Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras IX: Proceedings of the 23rd and 24th International Colloquium Organized at the University of ... and 2016 (Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta) 9042936312, 9789042936317

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O R I E N TA L I A L OVA N I E N S I A A N A L E C TA Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras IX

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P E E T ERS

EGYPT AND SYRIA IN THE FATIMID, AYYUBID AND MAMLUK ERAS IX

ORIENTALIA LOVANIENSIA ANALECTA ————— 278 —————

EGYPT AND SYRIA IN THE FATIMID, AYYUBID AND MAMLUK ERAS IX Proceedings of the 23rd and 24th International Colloquium Organized at the University of Leuven in May 2015 and 2016

K. D’HULSTER, G. SCHALLENBERGH † and J. VAN STEENBERGEN (eds.)

PEETERS LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT 2019

A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. © 2019, Peeters Publishers, Bondgenotenlaan 153, B-3000 Leuven/Louvain (Belgium) All rights reserved, including the rights to translate or to reproduce this book or parts thereof in any form. ISBN 978-90-429-3631-7 eISBN 978-90-429-3843-4 D/2019/0602/1

In memory of Urbain Vermeulen (1940-2016) and Gino Schallenbergh (1965-2017)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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IX

Programme of the International Colloquia at the University of Leuven . – Twenty-Third Colloquium (May 20, 21 & 22, 2015) . . . . . – Twenty-Fourth Colloquium (May 19 & 20, 2016) . . . . . .

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Preface .

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L. RICHTER-BERNBURG “Caesarea’s Mosque with Sea-View and Other Amenities in the Fatimid and Crusader Periods” . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Gino Schallenbergh (1965-2017): Bibliography .

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Fatimids 1.

Zengids and Ayyubids 2.

3. 4.

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Z. ANTRIM “The Discourse of Place in Ayyūbid and Mamlūk Syria: A Politics of Scale” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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J.-CH. DUCÈNE “Constantinople chez Abū l-Makārim (m. ap. 1209)” .

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K.A. GOUDIE “Manipulating Dreams: Ibn ῾Asākir’s Use of Dream in His Biographical Notice of Ibn al-Mubārak” . . . . . . . . . .

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D. NICOLLE “From Aght’amar to ῾Ayn Dīwār: Evidence for a Heavily Armoured Elite in the 10th-12th Century Middle East” . . . . . . . .

81

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M. PIANA “The Castle and Town Walls in Syria in the Time of Nūr al-Dīn: The Evidence from the Manuscript BnF arabe 2281 (564/1168-69)” 133

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M. ZOUIHAL “Imāms et soufis andalous et maghrébins à Kallāsa (fin du XIIᵉ siècle et début du XIIIᵉ siècle)” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191

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Mamluks 8. 9.

O. ABDEL BARR Second-Hand Building Material on Mamlūk Construction Sites .

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P.-V. CLAVERIE “Bertrand Du Guesclin avait-il les moyens de vaincre l’Égypte mamelouke? Essai d’uchronie raisonnée” . . . . . . . . . 237

10. P.-V. CLAVERIE “Une enquête pour sacrilège menée contre des Juifs d’Alexandrie sous le règne d’al-Nāṣir Muḥammad” . . . . . . . . . . 251 11. N. COUREAS “Captives from the Mamlūk Lands in Cyprus: 1250-1324” .

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12. G. LELLI “The Meaning of “Beauty” (Jamāl) in the Muqaddima of Ibn Khaldūn” 275 13. B. MARTEL-THOUMIAN “AscensusBarcoch (1416): Une hagiographie laïque?” .

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14. A. POST “A Taymiyyan Sufi’s Refutation of the Akbarian School: ῾Imād al-Dīn Aḥmad al-Wāsiṭī’s (d. 711/1311) Lawāmi῾al-Istirshād” . . 309 15. TH.M. WIJNTJES “Queen in a Diplomatic Game: Ṭulunbāy, the Tatar Bride of Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327

PREFACE

It gives us great pride and pleasure that we may once again present proceedings for the international Colloquium on the History of Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras (CHESFAME), within he series of Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta. This is the ninth volume of CHESFAME’s proceedings, with contributions from the twenty-third and twenty-fourth meetings of CHESFAME, which were held at the University of Leuven (KU Leuven, Belgium) in May 2015 and 2016. This collected volume of fifteen contributions once again reflects the uniquely wide range of the research and debates that — as also stated in the prefaces of previous proceedings — have always constituted CHESFAME’S core business, ever since its first meeting in 1992. As always, many of these contributions again have little more in common than their geographical, chronological and historiographical links with the Islamic eastern Mediterranean world between the tenth and the fifteenth centuries CE. As always, also, these contributions represent in their diversity the crux of CHESFAME’s remit, the key to its success over many years and the unique essence of its scholarly identity: its organisational set-up around principles of multi-disciplinarity and of trans-cultural and trans-dynastic cross-fertilization, long before these became fashionable buzz-words in Western higher education and academia. In line with the tradition of CHESFAME meetings and proceedings, this ninth collected volume is once again divided in three dynastic sections (each arranged alphabetically by the authors’ surnames): first a condensed Fatimid section (1 chapter), and then two well represented sections on Zengid and Ayyubid times (6 chapters) and on the so-called Mamluk era (8 chapters). The Fatimid section represents an integrated approach to the rich intersection of literary narrative and material culture (Richter-Bernburg). The Zengid and Ayyubid section furthers this (Ducène, Nicolle, Piana), but also opens up towards the engagements with the history of ideas, of discourse, and of mentalities more in general (Antrim, Goudie, Zouihal). The Mamluk section finally similarly combines discussion of material culture (Abdel Barr) and literature (Lelli, Martel-Thoumian) with the history of ideas (Post) as well as with engagements with the highly diverse social worlds from East and West that connected in often surprising ways with the sultanate and its many agents (Claverie, Coureas, Wijntjes). With this collected volume, another phase in CHESFAME’s proceedings is yet again brought to a fruitful end. In fact, this publication may well mark the end of an era that started in the early 1990s and during which CHESFAME has been able to regularly play its role. In the eighth volume of proceedings, published

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PREFACE

in 2016, it was already announced that the format of the colloquium had to be adapted in order to remain a viable and attractive occasion for an ever-expanding field of scholarship and in the ever more complex and demanding institutional contexts of today’s academia. As a result, the colloquium moved back from Ghent University, where it had been organised for seven years in a row, to its place of origin, Leuven, where Gino Schallenbergh managed to successfully organise two more meetings, in 2015 and 2016. On 23 February 2016, however, as also announced in a postscript to volume eight, the colloquium’s founding father, professor Urbain Vermeulen, passed away. More recently, on 14 December 2017, we were equally confronted with the sudden and unexpected death of our beloved colleague Gino. As a result of these tragic events, and of the wider context that have made it much more difficult to organise CHESFAME, it appears unlikely that another meeting will be organised in the foreseeable future. More than ever, therefore, at the end of this preface some words of thanks are due, to the many people who have contributed in many different ways to making CHESFAME and its proceedings into an academically and socially valuable and rewarding experience. This obviously has to begin with the more than thirty participants to these final two CHESFAME meetings in Leuven; as ever, their many and inspiring contributions made CHESFAME’s meetings yet again worthwhile events, and the willingness of many of them to contribute to this last set of proceedings is much appreciated. As always we furthermore wish to express our gratitude for the support that these proceedings continue to receive from Peeters Publishers and from the series Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta. We are furthermore grateful for the financial support that CHESFAME has received from the KU Leuven faculty of arts. Sadly, our word of thanks has to end with those who are no longer among us, too many participants of old, including, unfortunately, now also CHESFAME’s founding father, Urbain Vermeulen. It were his scholarship, friendship, tenacity and hospitality that made CHESFAME’s longstanding and eventful history possible, that transformed it into a reputable and lasting contribution to the field, and that should never be forgotten. Sadly, our colleague and co-editor Gino Schallenbergh now also belongs to this list of those who are no longer among us; his initiative and dedication made it possible for CHESFAME to be organised in Leuven in 2015 and 2016, and the present volume is very much a fruit of the energy he devoted to continuing CHESFAME’s rich traditions. In this light, it is only befitting to dedicate this last volume of proceedings to the memory of both Urbain and Gino. Whereas the former was fortunate enough to have reached the old age that colleagues and former students conventionally celebrate with a Festschrift1, 1  ContinuityandChangeintheRealmsofIslam.StudiesinHonourofProfessorUrbainVermeulen, eds. Kristof D’hulster and Jo Van Steenbergen [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume CLXXI] (Leuven: Peeters, 2008), with the dedicatee’s bio- and bibliography on pp. xi-xxxvi.

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Gino did not live to see this day. Hence, we thought it appropriate to add a list of his publications to the present volume. While this bibliography hardly does justice to the boundless energy with which Gino engaged with the world beyond academic research, through teaching and public services first and foremost, it still bears testimony of his scholarly engagement with and profound understanding of the Sufi phenomenon and of the Taymiyyan school. Urbain and Gino, fala-tarqudānnibil-salām! K. D’hulster J. Van Steenbergen

PROGRAMME OF THE INTERNATIONAL COLLOQUIA AT THE UNIVERSITY OF LEUVEN

Twenty-ThirdColloquium(May,20,21&22,2015) Wednesday, May 20, 2015 Yaacov Lev (Bar Ilan University), “The Textile Consumption of the Fatimid Court and the Textile Industries of Medieval Egypt” David Nicolle (Nottingham), “From Aght’amar to ῾Ayn Dīwār: Evidence for a Heavily Armoured Elite in the 10th-12th Century Islamic East” Arie Schippers (University of Amsterdam), “A Poet from Sicily in Fatimid Egypt: ῾Alī al-Ballanūbī al-Ṣiqqilī (d. ca. 470/1078)” Giovanna Lelli (Ghent University), “The meaning of ‘beauty’ (al-jamāl) in the Muqaddima of Ibn Khaldūn” Thursday, May 21, 2015 Gordon Antrim (Trinity College, Hartford, Connecticut), “The Discourse of Place in Ayyubid and Mamluk Syria” Kurt Franz (Universität Tübingen), “Geographers in the Service of the Mamluks: Elements of a Literary Sociology” Yehoshua Frenkel (University of Haifa), “Damascus and its Hinterland: Reading in Mamlūk Chronicles and Biographical Dictionaries (1382-1516)” Jean-Charles Ducène (Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, Paris), “The World as Seen from the Mamluk Chancellery: The Example of al-῾Umarī” Johannes den Heijer (UC Louvain), “The InternationalCopto-ArabicHistoriographyProject (ICAHP) and Its Relevance for Fatimid Studies” Kenneth Goudie (St Andrews University), “Manipulating Dreams: Ibn ῾Asākir’s Use of Dream in His Biography of Ibn al-Mubārak” Gowaart Van Den Bossche (Ghent University), “A Sultanate to Excel All Others: Notes on the Narrative Construction of Ibn ῾Abd al-Ẓāhir’s Biography of Baybars” Helge Daniëls (KU Leuven), “The International Time Travels of a Mamluki Head: Saadallah Wannous Revisited” Caroline Janssen (Ghent University), “The Missing Prophet: Recasting Jesus of Nazareth” Mathias Piana (Universität Augsburg), “Conclusions Drawn from BnF Paris Ms. arabe 2281 on the Layout of Castles and Town Walls in the Time of Nūr al-Dīn”

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PROGRAMME OF THE INTERNATIONAL COLLOQUIA

Motia Zouihal (Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, Paris), “Al-Kallāsa de Damas aux XII et XIIIe siècles, la structure et ses occupants” Hani Hamza (Cairo), “The Identification of the Monument Known as Azdumur (al-Zumur) in the Northern Cemetery of Cairo Using a Multidisciplinary Approach” Friday, May 22, 2016 Pierre-Vincent Claverie (Assemblée Nationale, Paris), “Bertrand Du Guesclin avait-il les moyens de vaincre l’Egypte mamelouke? Essai d’uchronie raisonnée” Nicholas Coureas (Cyprus Research Centre), “Captives from Mamluk Lands in Cyprus: 1250-1324” Joseph Drory (Bar Ilan University), “Medieval Safed and Its Vicinity as Described by ῾Uthmānī” Jeroen Vanwymeersch (Ghent University), “The Qur᾿ānic Proof in al-Ṣārim al-Maslūl and its Relationship with Ibn Kathīr’s Tafsīr” Gino Schallenbergh (KU Leuven/Ghent University), “Ibn Taymiyya on the History of the Imāms in the Minhājal-Sunna” Arjan Post (Utrecht University), “Was Ibn Taymiyya a Sufi? An Answer from the Autobiography of ῾Imād al-Dīn al-Wāsiṭī” Koby Jozef (Bar Ilan University), “Some Remarks on Usages of Kinship Terminology During the Mamluk Sultanate and the Notion of the ‘Mamlūk Family’” Bernadette Martel-Thoumian (Université Pierre-Mendès-France), “Destin de femme, vie brisée: Le cas de la circassienne Asalbāy al-Jarkasiyya (morte en 1509)” Twenty-FourthColloquium(May19&20,2016) Thursday, May 19, 2016 Arie Schippers (University of Amsterdam), “Ibn al-Ḥaddād on Nuwayra” Giovanna Lelli (Ghent University), “Beauty and science in the Muqaddima of Ibn Khaldūn” Mathias Piana (Universität Augsburg), “The Fortifications of Tripoli (Ṭarābulus al-Shām) during the Mamluk Period” Omniya Abdel Barr (London), “Destruction and Reconstruction: Material Reuse in Mamluk Cairo” Saraa Saleh (KU Leuven), “The effect of war on the Syrian cultural heritage: The case of Ayyubid and Mamluk architecture” Joseph Drory (Bar Ilan University), “The Ayyubid who crossed the lines” Mohamed Maslouh (Ghent University), “Plagues as Normative tool in medieval Egypt (1000-1500 CE)”

PROGRAMME OF THE INTERNATIONAL COLLOQUIA

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Jean-Charles Ducene (Université Libre de Bruxelles), “La description de Constantinople chez Abū l-Makārim» (m. après 1208)” Friday, May 20, 2016 Jo Van Steenbergen (Ghent University), “Al-Maqrīzī’s History of the Ḥajj (al-Dhahab al-Masbūk) and Khaldūnian Narrative Construction: towards a macro-structural textual analysis of form and meaning” Kurt Franz (Universität Tübingen), “Rome to the Red Sea, Cairo to Mecca: The Reorientation of Ancient Roads towards the Hajj” Gino Schallenbergh (KU Leuven), “Defining Sainthood: an Apology of the Controversial in Sufism in the Rawḍat al-Rayāḥīn by ῾Abd Allāh Ibn As῾ad al-Yāfi῾ī (d. 1367)” Caroline Janssen (Ghent University), “Paradise Lost” Daisy Livingston (School of Oriental and African Studies - London), “Archives and Archival Practices in the waqf-related documents of Mamlūk Cairo” Tetsuya Ohtoshi (Waseda University Tokyo), “The City of the Dead as Reflected in Waqf Documents of Mamluk Egypt” Balázs Major (Pázmány Péter Catholic University Budapest), “Construction History and Functional Changes of Qal’at al-Marqab in Syria” Pierre-Vincent Claverie (Centre de Recherche Scientifique de Chypre), “Une enquête pour sacrilège menée contre des juifs d’Alexandrie sous le règne d’alNāṣir Muḥammad” Bernadette Marthel-Toumian (Université Pierre-Mendès-France), “Ascensus Barchoch (1416), Une biographie entre saga littéraire et récit historique”

GINO SCHALLENBERGH (1965-2017) BIBLIOGRAPHY

“Ibn Taymiyya on the Ahl al-Bayt”, in Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and MamlukErasIII, eds. U. Vermeulen and J. Van Steenbergen [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume 102] (Leuven: Peeters, 2001), pp. 407-420 “The diseases of the heart, a spiritual pathology by Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya”, inEgypt andSyriaintheFatimid,AyyubidandMamlukErasIII, eds. U. Vermeulen and J. Van Steenbergen [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume 102] (Leuven: Peeters, 2001), pp. 421-428 “Intoxication and ecstasy. Sufi terminology in the work of Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya”, in EgyptandSyriaintheFatimid,AyyubidandMamlukErasIV, eds. U. Vermeulen and J. Van Steenbergen [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume 140] (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), pp. 459-474 “The Sheikh al-Azhar’s authority contested, reactions of the state press to Ṭantāwī’s statement on France’s ban on the headscarf”, in Authority,PrivacyandPublicOrder inIslam, eds. B. Michalak Pikulska and A. Pikulski [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume 148] (Leuven: Peeters, 2006), pp. 81-93 “Plagiarism or borrowing: A literary dispute between Ibn Nubāta (d. 1366 AD) and Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn al-Ṣafadī (d. 1363 AD), in EgyptandSyriaintheFatimid,Ayyubid andMamlukErasV, eds. U. Vermeulen and K. D’hulster [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume 169] (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), pp. 511-524 “Ibn Taymiyya (d. 1328) on chess: Legal evidence for a prohibition”, in EgyptandSyria intheFatimid,AyyubidandMamlukErasV, eds. U. Vermeulen and K. D’hulster [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume 169] (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), pp. 525-537 “Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya on Sufi terminology: The concept of the spiritual path (ṭarīq)”, in ContinuityandChangeintheRealmsofIslam.StudiesinHonourofProfessor UrbainVermeulen, eds. K. D’hulster and J. Van Steenbergen [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume 171] (Leuven: Peeters, 2008), pp. 555-565 “The invocation of God (dhikr) and audition (samā῾) in the spirituality of Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 751/1350)”, in EgyptandSyriaintheFatimid,AyyubidandMamlukErasVI, eds. U. Vermeulen and K. D’hulster [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume 183] (Leuven: Peeters, 2010), pp. 355-369 “Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya’s manipulation of Sufi terms: fear and hope”, in Islamic Theology,PhilosophyandLaw:DebatingIbnTaymiyyaandIbnQayyimal-Jawziyya, eds. B. Krawietz and G. Tamer (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2013), pp. 784-795 “Review: Monica Corrado, Mit Tradition in die Zukunft, Der taǧdīd-Diskurs in der Azhar und ihrem Umfeld”, DerIslam 90 (2013): 412-414 “Review: Mirjam Shatanawi, Islam in beeld: Kunst en cultuur van moslims wereldwijd”, Manazine 6 (2013) “Review: Caterina Bori and Livnat Holtzman (eds.): A Scholar in the Shadow: Essays in the Legal and Theological Thought of Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya. (Oriente Moderno XC.)”,BulletinoftheSchoolofOrientalandAfricanStudies 76/2 (2014): 306-307 “Review: De aantrekkingskracht van het kalifaat: de islamitische staat”, Streven: CultureelMaatschappelijkMaandblad 2015: 784-795

CAESAREA’S MOSQUE WITH SEA-VIEW AND OTHER AMENITIES IN THE FATIMID AND CRUSADER PERIODS

During the past half century, archaeological research at Caesareamaritima1 has yielded substantial results and gone a long way towards clarifying the history of the site during the past two millennia. Nor have written sources been neglected. However, if two truisms may yet be restated here, just as archaeological evidence is at times difficult to decipher, textual witnesses can be irritatingly brief or opaque, or plain careless, in this way presenting their own challenges to solid interpretation. The given case, Islamic Caesarea, provides ample illustration, at the level of archaeology as well as of secondary, narrative testimony. The task is not made any easier by the comparative — and if regrettable, easily comprehensible — neglect that the period under discussion, the centuries from the Arab conquest to the eve of the Crusades, 640-1100, was long held in by archaeologists of the Holy Land. Fortunately, this has fundamentally changed during the past few decades; physical remains of some consequence, which throw into relief the written testimony, have been discovered either by systematic exploration2 or occasionally even by happy accident.3 The point of departure for the present study was, so to speak, a “negative” or void, namely the vanished congregational mosque of Fatimid Caesarea, so 1 For the sake of convenience, the Latin form will here be used although on historical grounds first the Greek, (παράλιος, viz.Παλαιστίνης) Καισάρεια, and later its Arabic adaptation Qaysāriyya would commend themselves. — Just in order to be doubly clear: the Arabic termination does represent the nisba pattern, i. e. the vowel preceding /y/ is to be transcribed as /iy/ or alternatively with a macron, /ī/; accordingly correct Donald Whitcomb, “Qaysāriyah as an Early Islamic Settlement”, in ShapingtheMiddleEast:Jews,Christians,andMuslimsinan AgeofTransition400-800C.E., eds. Kenneth G. Holum and Hayim Lapin [Studies and Texts in Jewish History and Culture, volume 20] (Bethesda, MD: University Press of Maryland, 2011), pp. 65-82. 2 For handy reference see the bibliography in Jean Mesqui, Jocelyn Martineau etall., Césarée Maritime: Ville fortifiée du Proche-Orient (Paris: Éditions A. et J. Picard, 2014) and Kenneth G. Holum’s to date latest contributions: “Caesarea in Palestine: Shaping the early Islamic town”, in LeProche-OrientdeJustinienauxAbbassides:peuplementetdynamiquesspatiales, ed. Antoine Borrut [actes du colloque “Continuités de l’occupation entre les périodes byzantine et abbasside au Proche-Orient, VIIe – IXe siècles”; Bibliothèque de l’antiquité tardive, volume 19] (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), pp. 169-86; “Caesarea in Palestine: Shaping the Early Islamic Town”, in Shaping, eds. Holum and Lapin, pp. 167-84. 3 One of the latest of these was the find by amateur divers of a purse of (mostly) Fatimid dinars, half and quarter dinars on the sea floor off Caesarea in February 2015; the shipwreck which caused the loss of these, plausibly governmental, funds must have occurred not long after 427/1036, the latest mint date in the assemblage (in addition to a number of web pages, see ArtifaxMagazine [Institute for Biblical Archaeology, New Brighton, MN], Spring 2015).

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evocatively, if all too sketchily, outlined by Nāṣer-e Khosrow;4 in the absence of safely identifiable remains on the ground, the only “echoes” left are precisely, to the best of my knowledge, four all too brief narrative references to this structure. The earliest is found in Nāṣer-e Khosrow’s notional predecessor al-Muqaddasī;5 Abū l-Ma‛ālī b. al-Murajjā6 will be seen to provide a connecting link between them, while an epilogue is furnished by the Genovese Caffaro’s record of the mosque’s demolition by the crusading conquerors and replacement by a cathedral.7 It stands to reason that among historians and archaeologists of Caesarea the two better-known authors al-Muqaddasī and Nāṣer-e Khosrow have continually been quoted and figuratively speeking, squeezed for information. Only recently, Jean Mesqui, aware of the vagaries of existing, inevitably interpreting translations, tried to ascertain the import of al-Muqaddasī’s scant and loosely structured entry on the basis of a new version;8 Mesqui also paraphrases Nāṣer-e Khosrow, whose wording presents fewer problems.9

4 Safarnāme, ed. Dabīrsīāqī (Teheran: Zavvār, 1363/19842), p. 32:5ff; for further references see Lutz Richter-Bernburg, “Grenzen der Verläßlichkeit: Nāṣer-e Ḫosrow als Zeitzeuge materieller Kultur”, in: DifferenzundDynamikimIslam.FestschriftfürHeinzHalmzum70.Geburtstag / DifferenceandDynamisminIslam.FestschriftforHeinzHalmonhis70thBirthday, eds. Hans Hinrich Biesterfeldt and Verena Klemm (Würzburg: Ergon, 2012), pp. 411-32. 5 Shams al-Dīn a. ‛Abdallāh Muḥammad b. Aḥmad “Ibn al-Bannā’ al-Bashshārī”, Aḥsan al-taqāsīmfīma‛rifatal-aqālīm, ed. Michael Jan de Goeje, DescriptioImperiiMoslemici [Bibliotheca Geographorum Arabicorum (BGA), volumina I-VIII], vol. III (Leiden: Brill, 19062). 6 al-Musharraf al-Maqdisī, Faḍā’ilBaytal-Maqdiswa-l-Khalīlwa-faḍā’ilal-Shām, ed. Ofer Livne-Kafri (Shafā-‛Amr/Shefar‛am [Shafra‛am]: Dār al-Mashriq, 1995). 7 Caffaro participated in Caesarea’s conquest in 1101; there is no reason to doubt his report on the consecration of churches there a few days later. The larger, subsequently cathedral, church occupied the place of the former mosque (pluresecclesiasinpredictaciuitateconsecrauit,maiorem scilicet, ubi muscheta erat, in honorem beati Petri, et ubi modo est episcopalis sedes; AnnalesIanuenses, eds. Luigi Tommaso Belgrano etall., AnnaligenovesidiCaffaroede’suoi continuatoridalMXCIXalMCCXCIII [Fonti per la storia d’Italia pubblicati dall’Istituto storico italiano; scrittori, secoli XII e XIII, volumes I-IV] (Roma: Palazzo dei Lincei/Genova: Istituto Sordo-muti 1890-1926), I: 12:29ff; cf. Mesqui, Césarée, pp. 85b, 259a. 8 Césarée, p. 80 with fns. 24 and 25; evidently, Mesqui’s primary concern is al-Muqaddasī’s representation of the town’s fortifications. He approvingly quotes Benjamin Michaudel’s fresh — if still erroneous — rendering: “Césarée a autour d’elle une forteresse imprenable et un faubourg très peuplé autour d’elle [delaforteresse]”. As an aside it may be noted that Mesqui did apparently not consult the — anyway unhelpful — English version by Basil Anthony Collins, The bestdivisionsforknowledgeoftheregions (Reading: Garnet, 1994), esp. p. 158: “An impregnable fortress guards it, and well-populated suburbs are protected by the fortress”. Mesqui comments: “... si on le [c.-à-d., le texte originel] lit mot à mot, il désigne sans aucune crainte d’erreur la ville, son enceinte urbaine, et sa périphérie directe”. Two earlier, at least partially correct translations might have pointed in the right direction, by Charles Henri Auguste Schefer: “son faubourg qui est très-florissant est aussi entouré d’une forte enceinte”, see Nāṣer-e Khosrow, Safarnāme, ed. & trl. Charles Schefer, SeferNamèh:relationdevoyagedeNassiriKhosrau [Publications de l’École des langues orientales vivantes; II série, vol. 1] (Paris: Leroux 1881), p. 61, n. 1; and Johannes Gildemeister: “An ihr ist ein festes Schloß und eine bevölkerte Vorstadt, die von der Mauer umschlossen ist”, see idem, “Beiträge zur Palästinakunde aus arabischen Quellen. 4, Muḳaddasī”, ZeitschriftdesDeutschenPalaestina-Vereins [ZDPV] 7 (1884), pp. 143-72, 215-30, 312, esp. 167. — See Appendices IV and V. 9 Ibid.,p. 81 with fn. 29.

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3

If the same ground, primarily al-Muqaddasī’s and Nāṣer-e Khosrow’s accounts of Caesarea, is covered here yet again, then evidently based on the conviction that their fresh examination will advance our textual understanding as well as grasp of extra-textual reality. In view of the past good century-and-a-quarter of translating efforts, the author readily admits that a captatiobenevolentiae behooves him well. In good chronological order, the committed Jerusalemite and by extension, Palestinian al-Muqaddasī takes precedence,10 although his account is, if brief, yet fraught with problems. For one, the author’s pride in his native town and country did not necessarily translate into a heightened sense of duty towards attentive autopsy and careful description; André Miquel, in an even more sceptical stance, took al-Muqaddasī’s account of Palestine largely for, perhaps somewhat updated, childhood and youth memories.11 Further, literary form and stylization are aspects to keep in mind as well. Thus the following observations about recurrent features in al-Muqaddasī’s work may not be out of place. Allowing for considerable flexibility of application, ad hoc sounding digressions, and repetitions, entries are articulated in a bi- or tripartite scheme which can be outlined as follows: the lemma (a), at times amplified by an explanatory phrase, introduces a section (b) of variously florid evocation12 in (b1) “praise” of “glories” or “excellence” and (b2) “blame” of “demerits” or “vices”13 — or viceversa; second or third, depending on the divisions of the evocative section, the entry may be concluded by (c) a more “prosaic” and circumstantial account of specific topographic or man-made features of the given place, and in some cases by (d) excursus on points of special import, such as outstanding monuments or narratives.14 10 By his own words, he decided on the composition of al-Taqāsīm in Shīrāz in 375/985 (p. 8f) — and terminated work on it after about three years (de Goeje, BGA IV, p. VI) —, but the time horizon of his Caesarea material remains uncertain (cf. Miquel, “al-Muḳaddasī”, in Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition [henceforth: EI2], volumes I-XII (Leiden: Brill, 19542004), VII [1991]: 492b-493b. 11 André Miquel, Al-Muqaddasī:Aḥsanat-taqāsīmfīma‛rifatal-aqālīm(Lameilleurerépartitionpourlaconnaissancedesprovinces[henceforth: Répartition]), traduction partielle, annotée (Damascus: Institut français de Damas, 1963), p. XVIII: il s’agit, à mon sens, essentiellement de souvenirs d’enfance [n. 1: Cf. § 90, 143, et le rôle des dictons, sur lequel nous reviendrons], qui, même s’ils ont pu être complétés par la suite, constituent la base de la documentation. 12 Waṣf (“evocation”), which often implies a writer’s laudatory intention vis-à-vis his subject (Albert Arazi, “Waṣf”, in 2EI, XI [2002]: 153a-158a), is more nearly neutrally “descriptive” in al-Muqaddasī’s usage — as is na‛t; this is not to deny altogether a eulogistic connotation (for either word, e. g., pp. 4:4f; 7:18; 9:10; 120:5; 199:10; 231:2; 261:10; 272:16; 276:2; 384:7f). 13 In al-Muqaddasī’s parlance, the unequivocal term “praise” (madḥ, pp. 36:9; 65:16) appears to qualify the utterances of others rather than his own (pp. 272:16; 317:12), whereas merits and demerits are frequently referred to generically: “glories” (mafākhir, e. g. pp. 193:5; 276:3; 390:13); “excellence” (faḍl, e. g., pp. 35:9 [of people]; 136:2; 137:3f; 193:5; 317:13; 420:16); “virtues” (faḍā’il, e. g. pp. 151:18; 293:8); “good” (khayr, pp. 65:17; 276:2); “faults” (‛uyūb, e.g. pp. 35:8 [of people]; 198:3; 276:3; 356:16); “evil” (sharr, pp. 65:17; 276:2). 14 For the overall structure of entries see the following examples: Ṣuḥār/‛Umān: (a) p. 92:6, (b1) ll. 6-8, (c) 92:8-93:2; al-Mawṣil: (a) p. 138:4, (b1) ll. 4-8, (b2) l. 8, (c) 138:9-139:1, (d) 139:1-3; al-Raqqa: (a/d) p. 141:6f, (b1) ll. 7-10, (b2) l. 10f, (d) l. 11f, (c) l. 12f; Ḥarrān: (a) p. 141:13f, (c) ll. 14-16; Ḥalab: (a-b) p. 155:6, (c) ll. 6-11;

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The “evocative” and “reportorial” sections are also stylistically distinguished; in the former, strings of adjectival attributes (or predicates) and “improper annexations” (iḍāfātghayrḥaqīqiyya), often rhymed or assonant, create a fastpulsed rhythm, whereas in the concluding section or sections, both nominal and verbal sentences tend to be longer and more leisurely paced.15 The just-noted prose rhyme (saj‛) does not invariably coincide with semantic structure.16 Evidently, and superfluous to add, al-Muqaddasī cannot compare stylistically to the likes of “the two Ṣād”, al-Ṣābī (a. Isḥāq Ibāhīm b. Hilāl) and al-Ṣāḥib (a. l-Qāsim Ismā‛īl b. ‛Abbād), or al-Jāḥiẓ (a. ‛Uthmān ‛Amr b. Baḥr) before them. To return to his main entry on Caesarea, it may be parsed like this:17 (a) Qaysārīya — (b1) laysa ‛alā baḥri r-Rūmi baladun ajallu wa-lā aktharu khayrātinminhā, tafūruni‛aman,18 (version B) wa-tandafiqukhayrāt,19ṭayyibatul-sāḥa,

(version C) ṭayyibatul-sāḥa,ḥasanatul-fawākih,

Dimashq: (a) p. 156:20, (c) 156:20-157:1, (b1) 157:1-4, (c) l. 4f, (b2) ll. 5-7, (c) l. 7f, (d) 157:7160:9; al-Ramla: (a) p. 164:6, (b1) ll. 6-13, (b2) 164:13-165:1, (c) 165:1-4, (d) ll. 4-11; Bayt al-Maqdis: (a) p. 165:12f, (b1) 165:13-167:2, (b2) 167:2-9, (c) 167:9-168:5, (d) 168:5-171:10; Bayt Jibrīl: (a) p. 174:1, (b1/c) l. 1f, (b2) l. 2f; ‛Asqalān: (a) p. 174:6 (b1/c) ll. 6-8, (b2/c) l. 8f; Arīḥā: (a) p. 174:18f, (d) l.19, (c/b1,2) 174:19-175:2, (b1) l. 2f; al-Iskandariyya: (a) p. 196:16, (b1/c) 197:1-4, (c) l. 4f; al-Fusṭāṭ: (a) p. 197:8f, (b1) 197:9-198:3, (b2) 198:3f, (c) 198:4-199:10, (b1) 199:10-200:1, (b2) 200:1-6, (c) ll. 6-11; Tinnīs: (a) p. 201:11f, (b1) ll. 12-14, (b2) ll. 14-16, (c) l. 16f; Dimyāṭ: (a) p. 201:17f, (b1) 201:18-202:3, (c) 202:3-5; Samarqand: (a) p. 278:4, (b1) ll. 4-9, (b2) ll. 9-11, (c) 278:11-279:3; al-Dāmghān: (a) p. 355:10, (b2) 355:10f, (b1) 355:11, (c) 355:11-356:4; Āmul: (a) p. 359:5, (b1) ll. 5-11, (b2) ll. 11-15; Hamadhān: (a-b1) p. 392:3-5, (c) ll. 5-7, (b1) l. 7f, (b2) 392:8-393:2, (b2/c) 393:2-4, (d) ll. 4-9; Shīrāz: (a) p. 429:7, (b2) ll. 7-18, (b1) 429:18-430:6, (c) ll. 6-16. For variations in the “presentation” cf. also Āmid, p. 140:13ff; Ardabīl, p. 377:17; Sīrāf, p. 426:12. 15 Examples in the preceding note. 16 e.g. pp. 198:2ff (al-Fusṭāṭ); 310:13 etc. (Marw); 315:7f (Īrānshahr). 17 p. 174:13ff; de Goeje’s apparatuscriticus will also be quoted. However, he relegated there not only scribal lapsus of MSS B and C, but also the variants of the latter which altogether rather represent an alternative text; see de Goeje, BGA IV, p. VI seq., Miquel, Répartition, pp. XXVXXVIII, and idem, La géographie humaine du monde musulman jusqu’au milieu du XIe siècle —Géographieetgéographiehumainedanslalittératurearabe(desoriginesà1050) [Université de Paris, Faculté des Lettres et Sciences Humaines; thèse pour le doctorat ès lettres] (Paris – La Haye: Mouton & Co., 1967), esp. pp. 316-20. Following Miquel, the two redactions will here be given side by side, but against his and earlier, de Goeje’s relative dating, the Berlin version (B) will precede the other, Constantinopolitan (C). Given that the time differential between the two texts is minimal in any case, their precise chronological sequence can here be left out of account, although their material divergence calls for closer scrutiny; reduction to a linear sequence in time may well turn out to be too simple. 18 If the full i‛rāb has been observed here, this is not to prejudge al-Muqaddasī’s actual usage; his loose syntax, which will instantly be in evidence in either version, would rather indicate a certain slippage. 19 The repetition of khayrāt in close order, while not elegant, is not unusual in al-Muqaddasī — e.g. pp. 116:12-117:3 (al-Kūfa: khafīfa/balad mukhtall); 140:13, 16 (Āmid: [ḥiṣn] ḥaṣīn); 174:6, 8 (‛Asqalān: maḥāris); 282:19f (Nasaf’s rabaḍ); 377:1, 2, 6 (Dabīl: [al-]ḥiṣn). Such reiterations were no doubt facilitated by the author’s way of sectioning his entries. Caesarea’s “gushing forth with produce” recalls what is said about Ascalon just shortly before: wa-khayruhā

CAESAREA’S MOSQUE WITH SEA-VIEW AND OTHER AMENITIES

ḥasanatul-fawākih.(c)‛Alayhāḥiṣnun manī‛;wa-rabaḍun‛āmirunqadudīra ‛alayhi20l-ḥiṣn.Shurbuhumminābārin wa-ṣahārīj,wa-lahājāmi‛unḥasan.

5

wa-ma‛dinulabanil-jāmūs,khubzabyaḍ; wa-jāmi‛ḥasan.(c) La-hāḥiṣnunmanī‛un wa-rabaḍun‛āmirunqadudīra‛alayhi l-ḥiṣn.Shurbuhumminābārinwa-ṣahārīj.

Caesarea: no town21 on the “Roman” Sea exceeds it in consequence22 or outnumbers it in crops; it surges with riches — (B) and gushes forth with produce;23 its territory is pleasant, and its fruits are beautiful. An impregnable enceinte encompasses it;25 there is a flourishing suburb26 which the enceinte has actually been carried around.28 The inhabitants’ drinking water comes from wells and cisterns. [The town] has a beautiful mosque.

(C) its territory is pleasant,24 and its fruits are beautiful; [it is also] the source of white buffalo-cheese, [and its] white bread [is in demand]. 27 [There is] a beautiful mosque. It has an impregnable enceinte and a flourishing suburb which the enceinte has actually been carried around. The inhabitants’ drinking water comes from wells and cisterns.

dāfiq (p. 174:12; cf. wa-khaylwa-rajlwa-māldafīq, about Samarqand, p. 278:7; these appear to be the only occurrences of the root dfq in al-Muqaddasī). 20 MS B ‛alayhā. 21 Mirroring al-Muqaddasī’s self-consciously broad usage of balad(p. 7:17f), the translation is to denote any urban settlement regardless of size or legal status; thus it includes amṣār and qaṣabāt or, as here, refers to the territory of a given urban agglomeration (e.g. pp. 47:9, 13, 140:18, 155:6ff, 156:13, 16f, 226:13f, 271:9, 277:8, 278:4, 282:12, 392:6). Further, it stands in contrast to villages (e.g. p. 118:11), or may denote the urban center of a given city (e.g. the earlier Ḥīra in relation to al-Kūfa, p. 116:14; Ḥulwān, p. 123:16). Needless to add, the alternative meaning of balad, “country”, also occurs in the text (e.g. pp. 124:9, 147:12, 184:23, 226:13, 232:10, 284:15 [bilādal-Rūm]). 22 See Appendix I for a discussion of the term. 23 See Appendix II on khayrāt in al-Muqaddasī. 24 The translation here follows Ibn Rusta’s lead (fa-idhānazalūbi-sāḥatiqawminlamyanṣarifū ‛anhum...: “and when they invade a people’s territory, they don’t withdraw from them...,” BGA VII: 146:14f); the term plausibly suggests the urban area extramuros nor otherwise built up; in the single other passage with sāḥa, the term forms part of an elaborate pun or tajnīs (paronomasia) in an extended, appropriately reverent evocation of the Arabian Peninsula: wa-hiyaamaddu l-aqālīmmisāḥawa-afsaḥuhāsāḥa [ilkh] (“and it is the most extensive of provinces by measure and their most spacious in expanse”, &ct., p. 67:13). Apparently stress is laid on the stretch of the terrain rather than its levelness — sahl in contrast to jabal — or its “emptiness”, which would be faḍā’regardless of surface relief. Miquel, rightly rejecting “place”, thinks of the quality of the soil (Répartition, pp. 204, § 184, and 401, s.r. swḥ), which fits the present context, but not really the description of the Peninsula. 25 See Appendix III on ḥiṣn. 26 See Appendix IV on rabaḍ. 27 On the question of buffalo laban, whether ‘milk’ or ‘white cheese,’ see n. 80 below. The author frequently comments on the quality of bread at a given place; that of al-Ramla, al-ḥuwwārā, which would seem to be synonymous with abyaḍ at Caesarea, is accorded near-proverbial status, even though in al-Fusṭāṭ it was not merely the common, but the only type produced, and very cheap at that (pp. 151:20, 164:9, 199:11f; cf. BGA IV: 220, s.r. ḥwr, on the formations al-ḥuwwārā and al-ḥuwwārī). The syntactically rather free enumeration is al-Muqaddasī’s habitual “shorthand” (more on this instantly); on the “Friday mosque” see below. 28 See Appendix V for a discussion of fortified “suburbs”.

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The apparent lack of structure and loose syntax are as typical of al-Muqaddasī’s “evocation” of a given locality’s salient features in rapid rundown,29 as is his juxtaposition of different categories of predicates; material or physical attributes may be directly coupled with immaterial or moral qualities.30 The author’s tendency to repeat himself has also been noted. Any analysis of al-Muqaddasī’s account of Caesarea will have to consider the Syro-Palestinian frame of reference. In engaging openness he declares his attachment to the town and country of his birth and remains beholden to them, yet what might be called his authorial ethic compels him to apply the same standard to them as to other regions and localities in listing defects along with merits.31 Nor does his Palestinian sense of identity blind him to the reality of Egypt’s superior potential; al-Shām is but its rural district (rustāquh) and the inhabitants of al-Ḥijāz are its dependents (‛iyāluh).32 In the Berlin version, praise of Egypt and its capital is even more fulsomely worded,33 but the two versions materially agree.34 Yet in the framework of al-Muqaddasī’s grand scheme of balancing dualities — “East” and “West”, “Arab” and “Non-Arab”, Two Seas, etc. — it would seem that Egypt and Syria vie for precedence. Their respective rank as attested in revelation and religious tradition figures most prominently in the introductory “evocations” of the two “climes”, with Syria outdoing its rival,35 but elsewhere the author locates the Koranic “isthmus” (barzakh) between the Two Seas in Egypt between al-Qulzum and al-Faramā.36 The Godgiven central position which Egypt occupies between “East” and “West” also favors trade and commerce; in the author’s slightly hyperbolic diction, al-Fusṭāṭ was the destination of naval traffic from the “Chinese” and the “Roman” seas37 — nor was there anywhere in Islam a greater concentration of vessels than by its riverside.38

29 This is in evidence throughout; in addition to the passages cited in n. 11 see, e.g., the entries on Tinnīs (p. 201:11-16), Samarqand (p. 278:4-14), aṣ-Ṣaghāniyān (p. 283:4-15, esp. 9-12), and Zaranj (p. 305:7-12). Apparently a nominal sentence with the locality’s name for subject often serves as default structure; however, this is interlaced with nominal clauses which can be construed as predicates in subjectless sentences (khubzabyaḍ above; parallels as just cited). 30 Parallels abound — see e. g., in addition to previous note, his entries on al-‛Irāq as a province (iqlīm), p. 113:7f, on Mossul, p. 138:4-8, on Aleppo, p. 155:6-11, or on Marw, p. 310:13 etc. 31 p. 152:4-8. 32 p. 193:8; here as so often and as noted by Miquel, MS. C offers the better wording. Cf. p. 195:10-14 on Bilbays. 33 See esp. pp. 193:8-10 with app., 198:9-15 with app., 199:10 with app. 34 See esp. pp. 197:8-198:4, 199:10f. 35 pp. 151:4-18, 193:2-9. 36 p. 16:11-13; Koran LV:19f. With some exegetical strain in order to reconcile scripture and geography, the “meeting” (yaltaqiyān) of the Two Seas is said to have been effected by the Nile (p. 18:1-10). 37 p. 199:13f. 38 p. 197:15.

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The Koranic “Congress of the Two Seas”, which al-Muqaddasī grants Syria as a title of glory, refers but to the Sea of the “Romans” in his translation of the image into actual geographical terms;39 al-Zamakhsharī’s Kashshāf, to name just one example from the massive tafsīr corpus, reflects the exegetical conundrum the verse presented.40 Three different locations are suggested, of which the author prefers “the junction of the Seas of Persis and the ‘Romans’ in the area adjoining the East” — which betrays stunning disregard of the geographical knowledge common in or at least available to, his milieu; the other two suggestions are Tangier and Ifrīqiya.41 However, to return to extra-scriptural, earthly geography, al-Muqaddasī does strive to bolster Syria’s position between the two seas; in addition to seaborne trade in the Levant, he emphasizes the function of today’s Gulf of Aqaba as a mercantile shipping route.42 Ottoman and modern al-‛Aqaba’s predecessor town of Ayla — or as he would have it, Wayla — is hailed as Palestine’s seaport and storehouse of the Ḥijāz and regularly figures in the network of overland routes.43 Its palm groves moreover produced one of eight irreplaceable varieties of dates.44 The town’s portrayal stands in marked contrast to that of al-Qulzum — “one of the privies of this world” —, notwithstanding the latter’s function, braving contrary winds, in provisioning the holy cities and as terminus for the passage to Mecca.45 As for naval traffic on the Mediterranean, al-Muqaddasī again appears to vacillate between Syria and Egypt; of Egyptian coastal towns, he especially praises the island of Tinnīs as a lesser Baghdad and as an East-Western emporium.46 For urban amenities and a yearly feast of frontier-guards, he is even more effusive about Dimyāṭ,47 whereas al-Faramā is qualified as a hub of overland roads.48 Alexandria’s location right on the shore is reflected in its strong 39

pp. 19:3-6 (Koran XVIII:60[59]f), 151:9, 16f. Maḥmūd b. ‛Umar, al-Kashshāf ‛an ḥaqā’iq ghawāmiḍ al-Tanzīl [ilkh], eds. W[illiam] Nassau Lees, Khadim Hosain [Khādim Ḥusain], ’Abd al-Hayi [‛Abd al-Ḥayy], volumes I-II (Calcutta: W. Nassau Lees, 1856, 1859), I: 806:3f, -6f [=Cairo: al-Maṭba‛a al-sharafiyya, 1307 (1890), volumes I-II, I 574:-12ff]. 41 The latter tradition might possibly be reflected in al-Muqaddasī extolling Qayrawān as “the emporium of the two seas” (matjaral-baḥrayn), p. 225:2. 42 In his enumeration of Syria’s non-scriptural merits, he speaks of the Mediterranean merely as “the sea”; it “stretched” on Syria’s Western part and regularly carried vessels to its shore, while the China Sea adjoined its “remotest edge” (p. 152:1f). Beyond basic agreement, emphasis on the commercial importance of the Gulf of Aqaba appears to be more marked in the Berlin version (pp. 10:9ff, -4f; 11:9f, -6f). 43 pp. 178:10-13 (main entry); 109:7; 112:5, 6; 192:-8; 215:5; 249:1, 10, 11, 12, 14; 252:14; 253:5. 44 p. 470:11. 45 pp. 195:13-196:8 (main entry); 11:15; 12:2-6; 17:6, 11; 18:17f; 213:14f; 211:6; 214:6; 215:1, 4, 18f, -8f, -4. 46 p. 201:11-17. 47 pp. 201:17-202: 5. 48 p. 195:3-6. 40

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fortification.49 Its elaborate water storage facilities are duly acknowledged as is the rich produce of its considerable rural district.50 From incidental observations in the context of the critically noted heavy taxation in Egypt, it would appear that along the Mediterranean coast, Alexandria, Tinnīs, Dimyāṭ and al-Faramā operated as ports — in addition to towns along the Nile and alQulzum on the Red Sea; Alexandria served “the West” (al-gharb) and alFaramā Syria.51 In the Levant, apart from generally emphasizing the liveliness of its seaborne trade,52 al-Muqaddasī knows of three good harbours; in addition to Tyre and Acre with their chain-secured basins he singles out Jaffa as conduit to the capital al-Ramla and Palestine’s storehouse, which functions belie its small size.53 ‛Asqalān’s poor (radī’) port is the only other one mentioned in the Levant, but since almost all coastal towns are expressly said to be fortified, the implication is that they were approachable by sea and thus potential targets of naval attacks.54 Further, the author speaks of garrisoned forts (ribāṭāt) along the coast as destinations of Byzantine vessels carrying prisoners for ransom. The Berlin version here adds a list of venues of such negotiations: Ghazza, Mīmās, ‛Asqalān, Māḥūz Azdūd, Māḥūz Yubnā, Yāfa, Arsūf. 55 Caesarea is conspicuously absent, although it had figured a good half century earlier, in Qudāma b. Ja‛far, as a “maritime border fortress” along with Acre and Tyre in the north and Arsūf, Jaffa, Ascalon and Gaza further south; Qudāma’s focus on gathering and approvisioning craft for naval raids would seem to suggest that Caesarea did have embarkation facilities.56 In view of Aḥmad b. Ṭūlūn’s concern for the port of Acre,57 it would be tempting to credit him with similar work at Caesarea, but the evidence of his stray foundation inscription, found on the seafloor off the fortezza, is just too 49 p. 196:16; in his main entry on Alexandria, he does not even mention the lighthouse. Later, in the section on the “wonders” (‛ajā’ib) of Egypt, the Pharos does not figure either in its erstwhile, authentic function, rather it is cited for its original, magically telescopic mirror and for its talismanic power against destructive floods (p. 211:7-17). 50 p. 197:1-5. 51 p. 213:4-15. 52 p. 152:1f; b. Ḥawqal attributes active maritime trade specifically to Beirut, 2p. 176:7. 53 pp. 163:11, 164:1f (cf. b. Ḥawqal, 2p. 339:11f), 174:9ff. 54 pp. 156:18, 160:13f, 174:3-15; cf. Moshe Sharon, “Arabic Inscriptions from Caesarea Maritima: a Publication of the CorpusInscriptionumArabicarum Palestinae”, in CaesareaMaritima:aretrospectiveaftertwomillennia, eds. Avner Raban and Kenneth G. Holum (Leiden, etc.: Brill, 1996), pp. 401-442, esp. 406-409. 55 p. 177:2-12, esp. 11f; see Mesqui, Césarée, p. 78a, for criticism of al-Muqaddasī’s lack of precision: neither had he distinguished between different categories of “bases” — ports, towns, forts, etc. — nor was his list exhaustive. However, without denying his lapses or negligence, here his focus is on the actual ransoming of prisoners, not on the coastal fortifications as such. 56 BGA VI: 255:7 etc., esp. 10f; Mesqui, Césarée, p. 79a, also calls on Qudāma’s witness (and mis-dates al-Ya‛qūbī). 57 al-Muqaddasī, p. 162:12ff; cf. Moshe Sharon, CorpusinscriptionumArabicarumPalestinae, [to date] volumes I-V, Addendum [Handbuch der Orientalistik, Abt. 1, 30, 1-5, Addendum] (Leiden, etc.: Brill, 1997-2013), II [1999]: 275f, no. 8.

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slim.58 In any case, since, as we will see, in the 5th/11th century Caesarea appears to have had regular naval traffic, al-Muqaddasī’s silence calls for comment; however, the contradiction may be one of appearance rather than substance. Ships might simply have been beached, unless they anchored offshore and lightered their cargoes.59 In contrast to the unremarkable maritime role al-Muqaddasī appears to assign to Caesarea, in the overall scheme of his geography it does occupy a prominent place. For one, the analogical duality of the Two Seas requires a Western or “Roman” pendant to whatever the China Sea is said to excel in. And his Palestinian bias is sufficiently strong for such to be located in al-Shām rather than in Egypt — regardless of what he writes about Alexandria and its rich district.60 Thus Ṣuḥār, the metropolis of ‛Umān, is called the currently most “considerable” urban settlement on the China Sea; the author waxes eloquent in describing it as a flourishing, commercially active town, rich in produce and, significantly, pleasant (nazih).61 As such, a refreshing seaside promenade, he includes it in his list of lociamoeni, manāzih, of Islam, which he purportedly derived from a book in ‛Aḍud al-Dawla’s splendid library in Shiraz; Ṣuḥār’s pendant on the other sea is none other than Caesarea.62 Neither here nor in the other laudatory list that 58 Mesqui, Césarée, pp. 79 (and fig. 88), 95a, with a very judicious assessment (cf., more boldly, Sharon, as in n. 57, and id., “Arabic Inscriptions”, esp. p. 424ff). 59 According to al-Idrīsī apud Abū l-Fidā’, Taqwīmal-buldān, eds. Joseph-Toussaint Reinaud and William MacGuckin de Slane, LaGéographied’Aboulféda (Paris: Imprimerie Royale, 1840), p. 239, Caesarea’s “anchorage” (marsā) could accomodate only a single vessel. 60 pp. 196:16-197:5. 61 pp. 92:6-93:2 (cf. 67, app. crit. l); note his opening sentence: Ṣuḥār — hiya qaṣabatu ‛Umān, laysa ‛alā baḥri l-Ṣīni l-yawma baladun ajallu minhu—‛āmirun[ilkh], which his presentation of Caesarea echoes almost verbatim. 62 pp. 258:19-259:13, esp. 259:9. Al-Muqaddasī claims to quote a rhymed passage (faṣlan ... musajja‛an), which, ending in -ān, necessitated his substituting ‛Umān for Ṣuḥār. Ibn Khurdādhbih transmits an earlier version of the list on the authority of unnamed “savants” (al-ḥukamā’; Kitāb al-masālikwa-l-mamālik [BGA, vol. VI], pp. 171:7-172:10). It also features Naṣībīn with the attraction of the river al-Hirmās (ibid., p. 172:1), which name is but a slightly distorted Arabization of the Syriac neharmashe/ī, “the river Masius”, to quote the Latinized form (Ernst Honigmann, “Naṣībīn”, in 1EI III (1936): 926b-929b, esp. 927a; C[lifford] E[dmund] Bosworth, “Naṣībīn”, in 2 EI VII [1992]: 983a-984b, omits this information). Owing to the freer treatment of the rhyme, al-Hirmās is permitted to stand alone, whereas in al-Muqaddasī the addition of Jerusalem may by his own testimony be attributed to him (wa-Īliyāwa-lahā [B l-Buq‛a wa-]Māmās: Aelia with the “Swath” and Māmās, p. 259:6). The “open country” around Jerusalem plausibly refers to the arable area southwest of the medieval town, whereas Māmās baffled de Goeje and has to date remained unresolved. Al-Muqaddasī neglected to mention the place or district elsewhere, which again points to the unfinished state of his work, but even granting the exigencies of rhyme he would hardly have undercut the encomium of his home town by an incomprehensible term. Whatever the exact referent of Māmās may have been for al-Muqaddasī and his intended audience, the name at least has survived within Jerusalem’s territory as outlined by him (southward, it stretched approximately to the latitude of Beersheba; p. 173:9); northwest of Ḥalḥūl, close to the Roman road from Jerusalem to Hebron, a “ruin” is thus known to this day (P[alestine] G[rid] 159/111; cf. Claude Reignier Conder and Horatio Herbert Kitchener, The Survey of Western Palestine [SWP], volumes I-X [London: Palestine Exploration Fund, 1881-88], III: 359, and Map, Sheet XXI:

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features Caesarea as a desirable place of residence63 do constraints of rhyme come into play; therefore al-Muqaddasī’s praise cannot easily be dismissed as a mere flight of rhetoric. The conclusion would seem unavoidable that Caesarea’s attractive — and fertile — environs decided the matter. Al-Muqaddasī was no exception among his contemporaries in his enthusiasm for enumerations and tabulated arguments; for handy reference, he supplemented the list of his unnamed predecessor, which he came across in ‛Aḍud al-Dawla’s library. In the other cited passage, he ranks places on the basis of the gradient from worldliness to other-worldliness. Whereas Mecca was the given place for men of exclusively spiritual bent and Jerusalem for those of religious as well as temporal interests,64 people with solely earthbound pursuits, of wealth, possession, affordability and fruits, might settle anywhere; however, the author singles out three pentads of preferable habitations for them, from among capitals (amṣār),65 cities (mudun) and cantons (nawāḥī).66 Among cities, Caesarea shares the distinction with Bā‛aynāthā, Khujanda, al-Dīnawar, and Bāniyās.67 The productiveness of Caesarea’s territory, which contributed to the town’s “consequence”,68 is further underscored by the existence of flourishing semiurban villages under its jurisdiction, Kafr Sallām69 and Kafr Lāb.70 Al-Muqaddasī’s Kv; now the site is also marked on a satellite view, see The Israeli-Palestinian Archaeology Working Group at http://digitallibrary.usc.edu/cdm/landingpage/collection/p15799coll74 [accessed 6 Oct 2016]). Phonetic considerations do not militate against the topographically plausible identification of this Māmās as the crusader casaleMeimes which figures in a deed of 1136; see Hans Eberhard Mayer, Jean Richard, DieUrkundenderlateinischenKönigevonJerusalem, volumes I-IV [MGH; Diplomata regum latinorum hierosolymitanorum, partes I-IV] (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 2010), I: 310-14, esp. 312:16-24, 313:9, no. 135 (cf. p. 346, no. 159), IV: 1663a; cf. Revised Regesta Regni Hierosolymitani Database at www.crusades-regesta.com, no. 350; Reinhold Röhricht, RegestaRegniHierosolymitani(MXCVII-MCCXCI) [RRH] (Oeniponti [Innsbruck]: Libraria Wagneriana, 1893; Additamenta, ibid., 1904), no. 164. Further on Māmās see Appendix VI. 63 pp. 34:18-35:8 (with app.!), esp. 35:3f. 64 repeated p. 166:12, surely also on account of al-Muqaddasī’s partiality to his birthplace. 65 Damascus (p. 156:20 etc.), al-Baṣra (p. 117:9 etc.), al-Rayy (p. 390:13 etc.; cf. 385:5 etc.), Bukhārā (p. 280:3 etc.; cf. 259:10, 266:9 etc., 270:11 etc.), and Balkh (p. 301:3 etc.; cf. 259:8); cf. BGA IV for complete refs. in al-Muqaddasī (and see modern reference works). 66 As in previous note, only selective references will be given. The author’s preferred nawāḥī are al-Ṣughd (p. 261:13f; cf. 259:8, 266:3-8), al-Ṣaghāniyān (p. 283:4 etc.; cf. 236:2, 262:1), Nihāwand (p. 393:17 etc.; cf. 51:13f, 259:8), Jazīrat ibn ‛Umar (p. 139:14ff; cf. 136:9, 137:11f, 145:9f), and Sābūr (p. 424:1-7; cf. 259:11, 420:14ff, 421:1f, 443:1-4). 67 p. 35:-8 (n. f); here Bāniyās, as in C, has been adopted instead of Nūqān, ibid., l. 4, from B. Bāniyās, said to be more comfortable and congenial (arkhā wa-arfaq) than Damascus, qualifies much better (p. 160:9-13, 20-23) than Nūqān (in the district of Ṭūs), which even in B does not elicit a glowing report (p. 319:8ff). For the other three “cities”, see pp. 139:16f, 272:15f, 394:2-6; cf. Bosworth, “Khudjand(a)”, in 2EI V [1979]: 45a-46a, and id., “Dīnavar”, in Encyclopædia Iranica [henceforth: EIr], [to date] volumes I-XVI (London: Routledge, [...,] New York: Encyclopædia Iranica Foundation, 1982- ), VII [1995]: 416f, and www.iranicaonline.org/articles/dinavar [update XI 2011]. 68 cf. p. 228:10. 69 See Appendix VI on Kafr Sallām and other lesser towns and villages under Caesarea’s jurisdiction. 70 Kafr Lāb, to the north of Caesarea near the coast, is one the numerous villages al-Muqaddasī did not feel obliged to record systematically. Ibn ‛Asākir, whose limited geographic interest would

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repeated emphasis on the density of Palestine’s population and the size of its almost urban villages cannot simply be dismissed as boastful — as witness al-Iṣṭakhrī’s concurring observation.71 Further, the distance of either village from Caesarea itself, c. 15 km and a day’s journey, resp., of Kafr Lāb and Kafr Sallām, points to another, even more basic component of the town’s strength: the extent of its territory, which apparently but continued late Roman administrative divisions.72 Reference to Caesarea’s size in later authors may also reflect its actual territorial extension,73 rather than merely echoing the futūḥ tradition seem to lend his incidental remarks special credence, adds the welcome detail of its belonging to Caesarea’s domain; Ta’rīkhDimashq, volumes I-LXXX (Dimashq: Dār al-Fikr, 1415-21/19952001), LII: 293:15f. Yāqūt plausibly attributes its foundation to Hishām b. ‛Abd al-Malik (r. 10525/724-43), Mu‛jam al-Buldān, ed. Ferdinand Wüstenfeld, Jacuts geographisches Wörterbuch, volumes I-VI (Leipzig: Brockhaus in Komm., 1866-73), IV: 289; Guy Le Strange, Palestine undertheMoslems (London: Watt, 1890), p. 470; Hugh Kennedy, Crusadercastles (Cambridge UP 1994 [reprint 1995]), p. 18f; Mesqui, Césarée, pp. 73 (with fig. 82 and refs.), 78a, 95a (and cf. 147a). 71 pp. 155:3f, 165:12f, 176:16 – 177:2, 228:10, 259:11; al-Iṣṭakhrī, Kitābal-Masālikwa-lmamālik [BGA, vol. I], p. 58:6f (=b. Ḥawqal, 2p. 172:14-17), notes that in spite of its small size, Filasṭīn, belonging with the most fertile regions (bilād) of al-Shām, has more than twenty Friday mosques (minbar). In al-Muqaddasī, reflecting Scripture exactly like b. Ḥawqal, Palestine’s, including its coastal plain’s, fertility features recurrently; cf. pp. 164:6f, 166:16, 173:10ff, 174:1f, 6ff. As for the semi-urban settlements, apart from their size and revenue-generating economic base, the existence of a Friday mosque underlined their urban character, but since they did not enjoy the prestige of towns proper, al-Muqaddasī reluctantly hewed to his line of following reigning convention and by and large excluded them; for the term ā’īn (“prestige”) — contrasted with khumūl (“obscurity”, p. 176:17f) — cf. BGA IV: 175, q.v., and Miquel, Répartition, pp. 208, §192, and 386, s. r. ’yn. Al-Muqaddasī’s hesitancy in this matter comes across in somewhat contradictory pronouncements; cf. pp. 155:3f and 228:10f with 176:16 etc. and the inclusion of large villages in lists of stage-posts, 191:2f, 192:2, 13f, but ultimately he bows to customary usage (ta‛āruf) and preference (istiḥsān), as he formulates his principle more than once (pp. 32:11, 115:6-116:11, 155:4f, 156:8-12, 228:8ff, 272:7ff, 310:7-12, 314:7-10, 387:21ff). 72 B. Khurdādhbih’s list of kuwar in Palestine clearly reflects pre-Islamic administrative divisions (pp. 78:16-79:8); al-Idrīsī [for ref. see following note] incongruously copied this, p. 376:10ff; cf. J[ohannes] Gildemeister, “Beiträge zur Palästinakunde aus arabischen Quellen. 5. Idrīsī”, ZeitschriftdesDeutschenPalästina-Vereins[ZDPV] 8 (1885), pp. 117-45, esp. 139). The continuity between Roman provincial units and caliphal ajnād has repeatedly been pointed out; cf. Gustav Beyer, “Das Gebiet der Kreuzfahrerherrschaft Caesarea in Palästina siedlungs- und territorialgeschichtlich untersucht,” ZDPV 59 (1936), pp. 1-91, esp. 70ff. The question of the precise extent of Caesarea’s territory under Roman, Arab, and Crusader rule cannot be engaged here. If a bold guess be hazarded, it is tempting to read the synagogal inscription of Reḥov/Farwāna (just south of Scythopolis/Baysān) as including in the “county” of Caesarea Dor and Kafr Sābā along with three unidentified places, Ṣuwarnā, the inns (punduqā) of Ṭabhīthā and ‛Amūdhā; cf., with refs., Chaim Ben David, “The Rehov inscription: a Galilean Halakhic text formula?” Halakhahinlight ofepigraphy, eds. Albert I. Baumgarten, Hanan Eshel etal. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011), pp. 231-40; Fanny Vitto, “Rehob”, in TheNewEncyclopediaofArcheologicalExcavations intheHolyLand[NEAEHL], ed. Ephraim Stern, volumes I-IV (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993), IV: 1272-74; http://synagogues.kinneret.ac.il/synagogues/rehob/ [accesssed 5 November 2016]). 73 a. ‛Abdallāh Muḥammad b. Muḥammad al-Idrīsī, Nuzhatal-mushtāqfīkhtirāqal-āfāq, eds. Alessandro Bombaci et al., al-Idrīsī Opus geographicum, fasc. I-IX (Neapoli-Romae: Istituto universitario orientale di Napoli 1970-84), p. 365:1, § 77; a. l-Fidā’, al-Buldān, p. 239; cf. again Mesqui, Césarée, p. 79a.

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of its pre-Islamic prestige and prolonged siege.74 In sum, the author’s preference of Caesarea over towns such as Acre,75 Tyre,76 or Ascalon77 may be anything but capricious. Permanence of Caesarea’s “county” borders is also suggested by the names of the Crusader seigneurie’s appurtenances as they occur in a number of deeds.78 Al-Muqaddasī captures the agricultural wealth of Caesarea’s extended territory in three categories of produce, ‘fruits’, white bread, and buffalo ‘milk’. As noted above, and unsurprisingly, good quality bread frequently serves him as a marker of affluence.79 Tree fruits have a similar function. What stands out uniquely, even if only in the Constantinopolitan version, is buffalo “milk”;80 in either version, this specialty solely figures in a list of Palestine’s outstanding regional products.81 However, there, in the survey section of the Syrian “clime”, it does not, in contrast to many other regional specialties, carry a specific provenance.82 To date, 74 cf. al-Balādhurī, Aḥmad b. Yaḥyā b. Jābir, Futūḥ al-buldān, ed. Michael Jan de Goeje, Liberexpugnationisregionum (Leiden: Brill, 1866 [reprint ibid., 1986]), pp. 141:10-142:14; al-Ya‛qūbī, BGA VII 329:2ff. 75 pp. 162:11-163:13, although the author’s interest is exclusively focussed on his grandfather’s ingenious construction of the harbour moles rather than on urban life. 76 p. 164:3, with emphasis on specialized Tyrian manufacture. 77 p. 174:6-9. 78 see Appendix VI. 79 see n. 23 above. Rice (aruzz) falls into the same category, see pp. 160:-7 (Bāniyās),180:13 (Baisān), 201:6 (al-Fayyūm; cf. 208:19), 318:17 (Isfarā’īn), 405:1 (as-Sūs; cf. 416:6). 80 In view of the risk of spoilage, although less than for cow’s milk, it is tempting to include curds (or yoghurt) and white cheese, as supra, n. 10. Buffalo laban was officinally prescribed, for external application, in the Umayyad period (al-Balādhurī, Ansāb al-ashrāf, I, 1-2, Yūsuf al-Mar‛ashlī, ed., Bairūt: al-Ma‛had al-almānī li-l-abḥāth al-sharqīya/Berlin: Klaus Schwarz 2008 [BibliothecaIslamica; 28a,1-2], p. 1211, [khabar] no. 679); yet again, its excessive consumption was reported to have caused severe digestive problems to Aḥmad b. Ṭūlūn at Antioch (apud b. a. Uṣaybi‛a, ed. August Müller, vols. I-II (Königsberg i. Pr.: privately printed [& Cairo: al-Maṭba῾a al-Wahbiyya], 1882-84], II: 83:10f, -7f). Fortunately, we have a disinterested, thus trustworthy, witness for the use of “soured milk” (acrumlac) in St. Willibald (c. 700-778), who shortly before his death, in a dictated account of his life related his experiences in Palestine in the mid-720s (see Appendix VII for ref. to his Hodoeporicon). – For fresh buffalo milk in cooking, even though far removed geographically as well as chronologically, cf. b. Baṭṭūṭa, who even claims to have tasted the ‘porridge’ thus prepared (Tuḥfat al-nuẓẓār fī gharā’ib al-amṣār wa-‛ajā’ib al-asfār, ed. Beirut: Dār Bayrūt/Dār al-Nafā’is 1418/1997), p. 409:4-7. 81 p. 181:11f; both manufactured and agricultural goods figure in this section, pp. 180:12181:14 (Répartition, p. 219ff; Le Strange, Palestine, p. 16). Palestine’s favorable climatic and geographical conditions are reflected in a wide, and by al-Muqaddasī’s assertion, as such unique selection of produce, although of its 36 items only seven are unique to Palestine: pine nuts, quinces, and five specifically named sorts of fruits: two of raisins, one of plums, two of figs (ibid.); a further seven are rare elsewhere, and of the remaining 22, buffalo “milk” among them, only their combined occurrence is a Palestinian distinction. Yet the Berlin version does not meet the reader’s expectation to encounter buffaloes elsewhere in the text, and in the other version, their only further mention occurs, as just noted, à propos of Caesarea. Al-Muqaddasī’s reticence, whether for ignorance or negligence, is exasperating. 82 Similarly, the areas of citrus cultivation are left unspecified, whereas Nāṣer-e Khosrow noted predecessors, as it were, of latter-day Jaffa oranges around Caesarea (see below).

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no archaeological traces of buffalo husbandry in the area have been unearthed,83 but ample circumstantial evidence from unmarked contexts corroborates al-Muqaddasī’s witness; while he, committed Palestinian that he was, might not be deemed entirely impartial, attestations of buffaloes in the region cover a period of more than a millennium, from the 7th to the 20th centuries.84 Al-Muqaddasī’s entry on Caesarea has long been found problematic for its express mention of a fortified rabaḍ and concomitant neglect of whatever urban center or madīna this “suburb” was related to. Archaelogical examination of the preserved medieval enceinte has conclusively proved its Islamic, more precisely late Umayyad, origin.85 In the absence of any other urban agglomeration nearby, al-Muqaddasī’s “suburb” has to be accepted as the Islamic town of Qaysārīya. Fortunately, a few decades after al-Muqaddasī, a disinterested witness, the religious scholar and traditionist a. l-Ma‛ālī al-Maqdisī, confirms the existence of a mosque elevated on substructions in Caesarea’s rabaḍ.86 It stands to reason that the mosque thus identified is none other than Caesarea’s Friday mosque as described by Nāṣer-e Khosrow in 438/1047 — and replaced by the Crusader cathedral.87 Its position in the South-West corner of the erstwhile Temple Platform allowed Nāṣer, sitting in the mosque courtyard, to enjoy a view of the sea and the vessels riding it.88 Abū l-Ma‛ālī, an incidental visitor and unencumbered by parochial loyalties, in localizing the raised mosque terrace within the “suburb”, notably suggests an entirely different — and much reduced — urban make-up of medieval Caesarea than what seems to be implied by a Samaritan account of the Arab conquest of the city.89 Further, a. l-Ma‛ālī’s 83 Kind communication from Carole Cope, courtesy of Kenneth Holum, who also points out the buffalo-friendly habitat around the Crocodile River. 84 see n. 80 above and again, Appendix VII. 85 see Mesqui, Césarée, esp. pp. 94f and passim. 86 B. ‛Asākir (TārīkhDimashq [as above, n. 80], LVIII 205f, no. 7447, esp. 205:15f) records a ḥadīth lecture by this scholar, al-Musharraf b. al-Murajjā al-Maqdisī, in Tyre in 438/1046-47, in which al-Musharraf read out for transmission the account of a session in Caesarea in 348/95960. B. ‛Asākir’s version basically agrees with al-Musharraf’s own report, notwithstanding the addition or omission of certain details; for one, the date is specified as Dhū l-ḥijja 348/begun 7 February 960 (Faḍā’ilBaytal-Maqdis, as n. 5 above, p. 64f, no. 52, esp. 64:17f); further, alMusharraf omits the mention of Tyre, but indicates the locale of his own study: in Caesarea fī l-masjidil-mu‛allaqil-ladhīfīr-rabaḍ. His wording calls attention to structural peculiarities of the building — its elevation on substructions — as well as to its noteworthy, as it were, peripheral location. Any further inference would be mere speculation. 87 for Nāṣer, see below; for possible remains of the mosque in the cathedral area, see now Mesqui, Césarée, esp. pp. 256-59a. 88 see below. 89 In this tradition, the “Temple Platform” would seem to be referred to as “upper market” in contrast to a “lower market” (al-sūq al-suflānī/al-fawqānī) and their relationship described as “one city above the other” (li-annahākānatmabnīyamadīnafawqamadīna); see Milka LevRubin, trl., annot., The Continuatio oftheSamaritanchronicleofAbūl-Fatḥal-Sāmirīal-Danafī [Studies in late antiquity and early Islam, vol. X] (Princeton, NJ: Darwin Press 2002), pp. 52f (and corresponding reproduction of the Arabic ms.).

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reference to the “suburb” contravenes Mesqui’s suggestion that the Temple Platform represented the “urban core” within the walled “suburb”.90 Even if in 1101 the desperate inhabitants used the retaining walls of the esplanade as a second line of defense against the Crusader storm, it did not function as a citadel, least of all after the collapse of the northern section of the vaulted substruction in 749.91 Evidently, the question still remains of where Caesarea’s “urban core” with the title of “city” is to be looked for, if the walled town merely qualified as “suburb”.92 “Suburb” it was, as can be learned from al-Musharraf, not just for al-Muqaddasī, whose fluid use of the term was commented on earlier; what is more, the name clung to it even — well-nigh — throughout the Crusader period. In 1251, Louis IX of France is reported to have fortified the forborc with walls, moat and sixteen towers93 — which is to say, he used the pre-Crusade and pre1187 city walls as foundation. At that time the suburb’s implied referent was the “citadel” on the cliffs to the south of Herod’s erstwhile harbor. Over more than three decades, the crusaders, apparently concentrating their attempts at Caesarea’s refortification on the citadel,94 had successively strengthened its defenses; its 90

Villefortifiée, pp. 87b-89, 102b-103a. Mesqui himself refers to the earthquake damage (ibid., p. 103a). This is not to deny Caffaro’s testimony as to an “intermediate” wall (ciuitasenimpermediummurataerat, and admurummedium), which is echoed in a more dramatizing mode by Albert of Aachen or his interlocutor: aliudmunimen urbis, quod muro spaciosissimo ac robustissimo ciuitatem diuidebat introrsum uersus mare; idem, HistoriaIerosolimitana, ed. and trl. Susan B. Edgington, AlbertofAachen, Historia Ierosolimitana: historyofthejourneytoJerusalem (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2007), p. 566:3ff, vii. 56). However, Caffaro’s very same account points to the weakness of this position, when he has the townsfolk retreat into the mosque as a last resort (Annali, pp. 11:23f, 12:5f, 12-23). Fulcher of Chartres mentions a second attempt at defense by the inhabitants after the attackers had scaled the enceinte, without precise reference to an internal wall: [...] cumSaraceni [...] urbemiamabeiscaptamviderent,ubidiutius vivere putaverunt, illuc perpropere fugerunt, sed nec hic, nec illic delitescere potuerunt[...]; idem, Historia Hierosolymitana, ed. and trl. Heinrich Hagenmeyer, Fulcheri Carnotensis Historia Hierosolymitana1095-1127(Heidelberg: Winter, 1913), p. 402, II, ix 5; cf. Fulcher of Chartres, Ahistory oftheexpeditiontoJerusalem1095-1127, trl. Frances Rita Ryan [Sisters of St. Joseph], introd. & ed. Harold S. Fink (Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press, 1969), p. 154. Al-Idrīsī’s composite entry on Caesarea will be discussed below (with notes 130-33). Numerous subsequent crusader mentions of Caesarea concern attempts at re-fortifying the site after it had been razed by Saladin and his nephew al-Malik al-Mu‛aẓẓam (Mesqui, Césarée, pp. 106b-109b, 110); see here presently. 92 The fact that al-Muqaddasī does not expressly speak of Caesarea as a madīna, but as a balad, does not detract from its urban quality; for references see n. 18 above. 93 Apresceschoses[...]liroizassemblasesgenzets’envintatoutsonostaCesaireen Palestine,quisietseurmer,etselojaetfistfermerleforborcdemurzetdefossezetde.xvi. torz; ContinuationdeGuillaumedeTyr,de1229à1261,ditedumanuscritdeRothelin [Recueil des historiens des croisades (RHC), Historiens occidentaux, II] (Paris, 1859), p. 627f, ch. LXXIV, s. a. 1251; cf. Janet Shirley, CrusaderSyriaintheThirteenthCentury:TheRothelinContinuation of the History of William of Tyre with part of the Eracles or Acre text [Crusade texts in translation; 5] (Aldershot, etc.: Ashgate 1999), p. 111, ch. 74; she translates “He [...] had the town enclosed with ramparts, ditches and sixteen towers.” Cf. Mesqui, Césarée, p. 110b. 94 Al-Malik al-Kāmil’s reference, of fall 625/1228, to the Franks rebuilding merely “part of Caesarea” (ba‛ḍ Qaysāriyya) in contrast to, implicitly, the entire enceinte of Sidon, can here 91

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impressive Eastern front faced the recently dug canal which with scarp and counterscarp served as its moat. In this way, the island citadel was separated from the urban enceinte on the mainland or more precisely its south-west corner.95 As the citadel’s remains appear to date entirely from the crusader period, they cannot readily be identified as the previous Islamic town’s “urban core” — however much topographic proximity might suggest such a reading of the evidence. Apart from the citadel, the only other site in Caesarea’s territory possibly to have carried the title of city would seem to be the fortezza, in spite of its distance from the “suburb”. B. Ṭūlūn’s building inscription would provide welcome documentary evidence — if it had not been discovered in the sea, thus devoid of any monumental context; given its find spot, off the shore by the Fortezza, it may well have belonged with this structure, but under the circumstances, this is just speculation.96 Regardless of whether the inscription read burj (“tower” or “fort”) or thaghr(“fortress” or “fortified port”),97 to attribute it to work on the Fortezza raises the question of the suitability of the shore in front as anchorage, let alone as port; it was not, after all, in any case inaccessible, but potentially vulnerable, stretches of coastline that called for defences.98 Apart from such conjecture, the Fortezza may indeed have a certain claim on embodying Islamic Caesarea’s searched-for “urban core”. As the state of preservation of its walls indicates, they were in good repair well past the conquest and may have commended the structure as a military installation and governor’s residence. If the Fortezza thus preceded the growth of the subsequently walled town, the latter’s designation as “suburb” might plausibly have survived its urban consolidation. To return to b. Ṭūlūn’s inscription, which highlights his efforts at strengthening seaboard fortifications, it would make equally good sense in either of the three conjectural locations, the site of the subsequent Crusader citadel, the Fortezza,99 or the “suburb’s” enceinte. be cited in support (quoted by Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmilfīl-ta’rīkh, ed. Carolus Johannes Tornberg, Ibn-el-Athirichroniconquodperfectissimuminscribitur, voll. I-XIV [Upsaliae: C. A Leffler & Lugduni Batavorum: Brill, 1851-76], XII: 313:14). In a preceding paragraph (ibid., p. 311:-3f), Ibn al-Athīr had already mentioned the Franks’ restoration of Sidon’s defenses (... wa-sūruhā kharāb fa-‛ammarūhā); the verb he uses in either place, ‛mr II, is precisely rendered (“have rebuilt”) in Donald Sidney Richards’s translation, idem, TheChronicleofIbnal-Athīrforthe Crusading Period from al-Kāmil fī’l-Ta’rīkh [sic]. Part 3 — The Years 589-629/1193-1231: The Ayyūbids after Saladin and the Mongol Menace [Crusadertextsintranslation, vol. XVII] (Aldershot [etc.]: Ashgate 2008), p. 292. Regrettably, Mesqui cannot quite bring himself to lay to rest the inexact older translation (“ils ont peuplé”); also, al-Kāmil here addressed his brother al-Ashraf, not his nephew al-Nāṣir Dā’ūd b. al-Mu‛aẓẓam (Mesqui, Césarée, p. 109b and fn. 52). 95 Mesqui, ibid., pp. 107b-111 for a historical survey, and 240-55, esp. 240, 243a, 255b, for an review of the monumental remains. 96 Mesqui, as ns. 58 and 85 above. 97 Sharon, as n. 57 above, esp. p. 425f, no. 7; Mesqui, Césarée, p. 79. 98 See below on Caesarea’s suitability as a harbor or anchorage. 99 cf. Holum, “Shaping”, as in n. 2 above, esp. p. 173.

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Nāṣer-e Khosrow, who in 438/1047 in early spring passed through Caesarea en route to Jerusalem,100 does not advance the issue of citadel or Fortezza vs. “suburb” either; however, his brief entry on the “town” (shahr) does contain a few valuable observations. It reads as follows:101 Vaazān-jābe-shahrīrasīdīmkeQaysārīekhwānand,vaaz‛Akketāān-jāhaft farsang būd; shahrī nīkū bā āb-e ravān, va nakhlestān va derakhtān-e nāranj vatoronj,vabārū-yeḥaṣīnvadar-eāhanīn;vačashme-hā-yeāb-eravāndar shahr, va masjed-e ādīne-ye nīkū čonān-ke čon dar sāḥat-e masjed neshaste bāshandtamāshāvatafarroj-edaryākonand;vakhom-īrokhāmīnān-jābūdke ham-čosofāl-ečīnīān-rātonokkardebūdandčonān-keṣadman(n)ābdarān gonjad.

From there [i.e., a stretch of coast south of Kanīseh] we arrived at a town, which is called Caesarea — there from ‛Akke it was seven parasangs. It is a comely town with flowing water; date-palm groves, orange and lemon trees; strong walls and an iron gate. There are springs of flowing water within the town, and a Friday mosque notably beautiful in that people can view and gaze at, the sea when they sit in the mosque courtyard; a marble jar is to be found there that has been wrought as thin as Chinese pottery so that it holds a hundred mann of water.102 As for the overall reliability of his Travelogue, his high position in the Fatimid-Ismaili missionary organization (da‛wa)103 has often been used injudiciously to discredit him.104 While there is no question of his loyalty and concomitant tendency to present his cause in a positive light, this fact can in no way serve as peremptory criterion; even matters conceivably of ideological bearing should first be examined on merit, before resorting to an alleged authorial parti pris. On the other hand, if it be permitted to belabor the obvious, just like any other “source’s”, Nāṣer’s testimony should only be accepted upon careful scrutiny. Among other factors, apart from the unsatisfactory textual transmission of his Travelogue, the view he presents is repeatedly narrowed by some “blurring around the edges”.105 100 He first hit the coast between ‛A/Irqa and Tripoli and basically followed it southward to Caesarea before turning inland toward al-Ramla via Kafr Sābā (and Kafr Sallām first?); on his erroneous identification of the two as one “town” see above and Appendix VI. 101 Safarnāme, as n. 4 above. 102 Depending on the fluctuating standard of weights and measures, the mann also varied; perhaps here 80-100 liters are a viable approximation (cf. Eliyahu Ashtor, “Makāyil”, 2EI VI [1986]: 117a-121a, esp. 119a, 120a, 121a; for such large marble jars from Fatimid domains cf. RichterBernburg, “Grenzen”, esp. p. 430f, with n. 80. 103 He officiated as supreme authority (ḥujja) in the Eastern diocese (jazīra); see, e. g., Leonard Lewisohn, “Hierocosmic intellect and universal soul in a qaṣīda by Nāṣir-i Khusraw”, Iran 45 (2007), pp. 193-226. 104 In “Grenzen” (as n. 4 above, esp. p. 420f), I have tried to circumscribe the range and limit of his credibility. 105 cf. “Grenzen”, esp. pp. 412-20.

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After situating Caesarea on his itinerary,106 Nāṣer immediately pays it tribute for its comeliness — to avoid the stronger term beauty107 —, which praise he does not bestow indiscriminately; Caesarea shares it, among “cities”, with Qazvīn, Arzan, Aleppo, Tinnīs, and Isfahan.108 Certainly the semantic range of the adjective chosen, nīkū, encompasses, other than a pleasing appearance, also “properness” or “quality”.109 Evidently, such beauty admits of degrees; thus Nāṣer extols Isfahan as the most beautiful city he ever saw in the entire Persophony.110 Conforming to a discernible, but not strictly observed pattern in reviewing places of habitation, Nāṣer immediately refers to the source of Caesarea’s water supply; of obviously vital concern in (semi-) arid climates, hydrology regularly figures in geographical literature.111 The desirability of “flowing water” over wells or cisterns may also be reflected in Nāṣer’s stating the same fact twice in short order. In the context of the entire Travelogue, such a reading would seem to appear more likely than to posit two distinct referents, first the rivers and streams in Caesarea’s environs and second intra-urban springs.112 106 Here I will concentrate on those of his comments which were not discussed in “Grenzen”. His remark on citrus groves in the environs, cited above, n. 79, agrees nicely with subsequent Crusader reports; cf. “Grenzen”, esp. p. 429, n. 78 (without pretension to completeness). Continuing his journey southward from Caesarea toward al-Ramla, he noted, after a sandy stretch of a parasang, fig and olive trees continuing beyond Kafr Sābā (p. 32:8). 107 Schefer, Relation, p. 61f, elegantly switches from agréable for the town to bel(édifice)for the mosque. 108 pp. 5:8, 11:6, 16:3, 64:7, 167:5. 109 As a predicate of human beings, nīkū (or nīk) denotes physical features as well as social graces and goodness or “propriety” of character and action (pp. 8:3, 9:5, 24:8f, 28:4, 38:9, 61:6, 117:2, 156:4, 166:13; a “proper” suit of clothes, p. 140:3). Intellectual, artistic, and artisanal production may also be qualified as nīkū (poetry, p. 9:5; calligraphy, p. 166:13; papermaking, p. 21:4; gilt brass-work, p. 44:12; rugs, p. 51:12; woven mats, p. 58:12; spun thread, p. 93:14; kerchiefs, p. 150:1;) — as well as horticulture (p. 79:11), hydraulic engineering (mosque lavatories, p. 14:15f) and architecture, from richly appointed detail (Roman lapidary work, p. 22:15f; marble pavement, p. 49:1; gates/doors, pp. 38:16f, 40:8, 41:7; miḥrābs, pp. 40:15, 53:3,6, 58:6) to individual structures (“buildings”, p. 166:1; “hermitage”, p. 31:3; caravanserai, p. 166:7; colonnade, p. 41:2; funerary monument, p. 148:4;dome, p. 41:2; mosques, pp. 21:11 [those erected by Shiites “everywhere”], 43:5; 64:1, 122:14f; 146:10, 163:4; 166:2) and urban complexes (bāzārs, pp. 11:6, 20:14, 24:5, 35:13f, 64:1,8, 117:14). Mosques or bazars might also be nīkūārāste (“richly decorated”), whether permanently or temporarily (pp. 20:14,16, 23:12; cf. 51:12). Generally, material circumstances, working conditions of man-made objects, meteorological conditions affecting food supplies, produce, and water itself may be “good” (pp. 43:1, 71:5, 96:10, 144:8, 148:13, 174:7). 110 darhame-yezamīn-epārsīgūyān, p. 167:4. 111 A telling illustration is al-Muqaddasī’s regret that al-Ramla did not have a perennial supply of flowing water (pp. 36:12-15; 164:6, 14ff; 259:11; cf. Nāṣer on al-Ramla’s dependence on rain-water, p. 33:1); pertinent passages in al-Muqaddasī as well as in al-Iṣṭakhrī and b. Ḥawqal or precisely Nāṣer are too numerous to be quoted (cf. these few examples from the latter: fortress of Qalamūn [south of Tripolis], p. 21:16f; Qaryat al-‛inab [west of Jerusalem], p. 43:1; Mahrūbān, p. 163:4; fortress of Raqqe, p. 170:1f; Tūn, p. 170:6). 112 The entry on Isfahan, pp. 165:12-166:1, may be considered atypical, but cf. the reprise in the Jerusalem entry, pp. 35:11f, 45:7-46:8.

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Nāṣer’s comments, which stand in contrast to al-Muqaddasī’s exclusive mention of cisterns and wells, have rightly elicited archaelogists’ interest, even if they at the same time illustrate his at times annoying imprecision. Whether it was misperception on the spot or careless note-taking afterwards, it jarringly offsets his elsewhere demonstrated awareness of different sources of water supply and types of hydraulic installations; his obvious interest in these is reflected in often quite specific descriptions.113 Concerning Caesarea, however, he appears to have confused springs and fountains. Although no remains have as yet been identified, fountains probably did exist intramuros, fed by clay pipes such as those discovered along the South-West section of the medieval city walls.114 Such fountains with flowing water may have misled Nāṣer into linking them with springs instead of merely a tapped elevated water-table.115 Similarly, his singling out of the “iron gate” in the city walls can be justified only as shorthand; either he meant to refer exclusively to the gate through which he entered or to emphasize the distinction of one of the gates to the neglect of the others.116 Yet urban fortifications as such are a staple feature not merely in the Safarnāme. Now to pass on to the Friday mosque, its attraction for Nāṣer was the view of the sea from its courtyard. As noted earlier, the mosque’s location in the southwest corner of the “Temple Platform” could on principle easily permit a seaview — provided the view was not blocked by solid walls. For comparison, it is tempting to think of the panoramic view from the esplanade of the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem; al-Muqaddasī’s and Nāṣer’s silence about the vantage it offered would appear to be too casual to serve as an argument either way. As regards Caesarea, the western edge of the Temple Platform, above the Roman vaults, might have been considered a clear enough delimitation of the mosque to dispense with a high enclosing wall. In Jerusalem, though, al-Ḥaram al-Sharīf — by its later name — is too peculiar a case to be blithely introduced as parallel. For one, it is well to remember that the mosque al-Aqṣā with its numerous doors, as vividly decribed by Nāṣer, did not offer a view of the surrounding countryside, even if the doors were not curtained, but at most of the adjacent court against the background of the parapet. However, al-Muqaddasī’s older contemporary b. Ḥawqal obligingly weighs in with an evidently neutral, matter-of-factly observation about the Friday mosque at al-Maṣṣīṣa; somebody sitting in it had 113 Cf. Āmid, p. 14:1f, 14; Tripolis, pp. 20:17-21:3; Tyre, p. 24:5; al-Ramla, p. 33:1f; Arrajān, p. 164:8-11. 114 Yosef Porath, “The water-supply to Caesarea: a reassessment”, in: The Aqueducts of Israel, eds. David Amit, Joseph Patrich, Yizhar Hirschfeld [Journal of Roman Archaeology (JRA), Supplementary Series, vol. XLVI) (Portsmouth, RI: JRA, 2002), pp. 104-29, esp. 127ff; cf. Holum, “Shaping”, p. 174b with n. 23. 115 Thus also Porath’s, the excavator’s conclusion (as in preceding note), even if his handling of the Arabic and Persian texts — at one remove, by way of translations — is not entirely assured. 116 But cf. adcustodiendosmuroset portam ciuitatis, Albert of Aachen, Historia, p. 566:26f, vii. 57.

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a view over the fertile plain stretching out in front of him toward the sea.117 Admittedly, given the southerly direction of the qibla from al-Maṣṣīṣa, it probably was from the mosque’s prayer hall rather than courtyard that people could look out, but b. Ḥawqal’s remark suggests that the large, low-silled “windows” in the qibla and side walls of Mamluk and Ottoman mosques — not to mention the portico walls of the forecourts118 — continued a much earlier practice. From beylik Anatolia, Isa Bey Camii at Ayasoluk (classical Ephesus and modern Selcuk), which was built in 776/1374, may be adduced for comparison; both the prayer hall and forecourt have large floor-level windows opening onto the surrounding countryside.119 If Nāṣer’s words apropos of the mosque at Caesarea are taken at face value, his specific mention of the mosque courtyard should imply that in contrast to the prayer hall, it did allow a panoramic view of the sea, whether through large openings or, in the absence of a surrounding wall, in “landscape” format. Always provided that the orientation of the crusader church, which curiously deviates from the axis of the structures underneath, roughly corresponds to that of the preceding mosque, it calls for comment on the qibla or the mosque’s alignment to the Meccan sanctuary. Studies such as those by David A. King have shown that especially in the early period, the direction of prayer was determined by folk astronomy or the contingency of local conditions; religious scholarship granted wide latitude to well-intentioned, even if in the light of later astronomical advances, erroneous approximations.120 In the event, Caesarea’s qibla, notably diverging from the southerly direction conventionally adopted in Syria, was much closer to the “actual” — as constrained by medieval geographical coordinates — azimuth of Mecca. 117 idem, KitābṢūratal-arḍ (BGA, vol. II), 2p. 183:3ff: ‛alānashzinminal-arḍiwa-sharafin yanẓuruminhāl-jālisufīmasjidijāmi‛ihāilānaḥwil-baḥriarba‛atafarāsikhaka-l-buq‛atikānat bainayadaihikhaḍiratannaḍira [ilkh]; for a quotation cf. Ernst Honigmann, “al-Maṣṣīṣa”, 2EI VI [1989]: 774a-779b, esp. 778b (cf. idem, “Miṣṣīṣ”, 1EI III [1936]: 599a-606a. 118 Üç şerefeli cami in Edirne might be a fairly early representative of a type continuing in the grand metropolitan constructions later on. At Córdoba, the multiple gates in the south wall of the great mosque would seem to be too narrow — if they were not anyway curtained — to have a more than functional purpose. The courtyard front of the prayer hall originally opened in a row of wide arcades, but mutatismutandis, here also holds what was noted above for al-Muqaddasī’s al-Aqṣā; there is no question of a view beyond the outer enclosure. 119 See http://archnet.org/sites/4020/media_contents/40525 and http://www.akg-images.fr/ C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=2UMESQ85IV50I&SMLS=1&RW=1366&RH=606 [accessed 16 January 2016] for photographs. 120 The mathematically correct determination of the azimuth of Mecca — always on the basis of the then-received geographical coordinates — by Islamic scholars from the 3rd/9th century onward did eventually have an impact on actual architecture; see David A. King, “The orientation of medieval Islamic religious architecture and cities”, Journal for the History of Astronomy [JHA] 26 (1995), pp. 253-74, esp. 263-66. In the later 4th/10th century, al-Muqaddasī and his peers had distinct, if regrettably unspecified notions of a “correct” (ṣaḥīḥa) qibla with which the Khūzistānī was at variance. His Baṣrī friends jokingly told him to make up for the prayers the deviant Khūzī qibla had rendered invalid (p. 415:1-3/ Collins, p. 368; in the Berlin version only).

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Nāṣer’s account of the mosque in Caesarea would seem to suggest that he personally experienced what he described, that he also sat down in its courtyard for a while and enjoyed the view of the sea. The formulation he uses, a Persian-Arabic hendiadys — tamāshāvatafarroj — denotes an intentional act,121 which immediately elicits the question of what it was that captivated his interest. Above, “vessels” were freely conjectured, because it would seem more likely that human activity held his attention than just the immensity of the sea. After all, by the time he arrived at Caesarea, he had repeatedly had occasion to take note of the sea, as well as of maritime traffic, along the Syrian littoral.122 However, caution might be in order: if he does mention that most of the coastal town had ports, he specifically refers to commerce only at Tripoli.123 Caesarea’s function as port or anchorage may not have been important, but it was not entirely negligible. In al-Bakrī, a disinterested compiler in far-away al-Andalus, or more precisely his unnamed authority, Caesarea figures as a port-of-call along the shipping route from Alexandria to Antalya;124 from around 1060, there is precious testimony by a wealthy merchant about Caesarea’s disembarkment facilities. After weathering a frightful rainstorm, the vessel he sailed in could safely be brought ashore in Caesarea and its cargo unloaded and spread out to dry, which was most important for him.125 In the following century, al-Idrīsī is said to have estimated Caesarea’s port or anchorage capacity at one single vessel.126 Materially, al-Idrīsī’s assessment does not diverge far from William of Tyre’s dismissive remark about Caesarea lacking a port — unless William, 121 The only other two occurrences of the Arabic word also imply the action of intentional gazing; in Cairo, roof-gardens are places or occasions for it (tafarrojgāh-hā, p. 79:12f), and in a remote Arabian desert fort, the forlorn inhabitants gaze in astonisment at the calligraphy Nāṣer applied to a wall in their mosque (p. 145:4f). 122 In his words, it was at two parasangs from ‛Arqa toward Tripoli that he first encountered the sea (p. 20:; on Caesarea Arca from antiquity onward, see Pauly-Wissowa, Realenzyklopädie, II,1, col. 1117f; S[erena] M. Cecchini, “Tell ‛Arqa”, Enciclopediadell’ArteAntica, 1997 [= http:// www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/tell-arqa_%28Enciclopedia-dell%27-Arte-Antica%29/ (accessed 24 june 2016)]). Nāṣer notes the proximity of the sea for Tripoli, Jubayl/Byblos, Ṣaydā/Sidon, Ṣūr/Tyre, ‛Akkā/Acre, Ḥayfā/Haifa (pp. 20:8ff, 21:8ff, 22:2f, 23:10, 23:17 – 24:3, 25:7-10, 31:9ff). 123 pp. 25:8, 21:8-11. 124 a. ‛Ubayd ‛Abdallāh b. ‛Abd al-‛Azīz, Kitābal-Masālikwa-l-mamālik, eds. Adrien P. van Leeuwen & André Ferré, vols. I-II [with continuous pagination] (Tūnis: al-Dār al-‛arabiyya li-lkitāb & al-Mu’assasa al-waṭaniyya li-l-tarjama wa-l-taḥqīq wa-l-dirāsāt “Bayt al-Ḥikma” 1992), II: 761:7-18, § 1276. 125 Gil, Palestine, III: 267f, no. 507; the sender, Ya‛qūb b. Salmān al-Ḥarīrī, was on his way to al-Ramla via Jaffa; in Caesarea, for want of accomodation, he and his soaked-through wares were put up for five days in the town synagogue. 126 Apud a. l-Fidā’,al-Buldān, p. 239, not to be identified in al-Idrīsī’s Nuzhatal-mushtāq, see al-Idrīsī, Opus geographicum, pp. 357, 355, 356, 365, 376. Giuseppina Igonetti, rebutting the hypothesis of a second geographical treatise by al-Idrīsī, argues in favor of a misattribution by a. l-Fidā’, whether because of a memory slip or in order to give the information more cachet; eadem, “Le citazioni del testo geographico di al-Idrīsī nel Taqwīm al-buldān di Abū ’l-Fidā’”, StudiMagrebini 8 (1976), pp. 39-52, esp. 49 and 52. Cf. Mesqui, Césarée, p. 106a.

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in a gibe at Herod’s harbor-building ambition, overstated his point.127 Such a reading finds support in the repeated Crusader initiatives to refortify the site, both citadel and “suburb”, during the first half of the 13th century,128 and in incidental, thus all the more credible, archival evidence.129 In al-Idrīsī’s genuine work, “The Book for Roger”, the section on Palestine is a mosaic of separate, unattributed quotations which span a period of some three centuries, but cannot all be securely dated.130 Thus Caesarea is included in a list of “counties” (kuwar) lifted, as noted above, from b. Khurdādhbih,131 but al-Idrīsī’s focal statement appears to echo, if perhaps indirectly, al-Muqaddasī.132 Again, the similarity was not lost on Mesqui, but did not make him ponder possible implications.133 More credence is due Benjamin of Tudela’s eyewitness record of c. 1170; his impression of “a comely and proper town” cannot be said to derive from either a religious or a political bias.134 127 [Locus...]portucarens,quamvisdeeodemHerodelegaturquod,multissumptibusetcura diligentiore,inutilitertamenelaboraverit,uttutamibialiquamnavibuspraeberetstationem; X, XIV(XV): 5-10; Mayer’s assessment: (“apparently never became viable as a port”) sounds like an echo of William’s; see Mayer, “The origins of the county of Jaffa”, IsraelExplorationJournal 35 (1985), pp. 35-45, esp. 37. 128 see above, with ns. 93f. 129 In April 1166, king Amalric issued a deed in confirmation of Templar privileges and holdings; in Caesarea they included aliamdomumiuxtaportum (Mayer, Urkunden, II: 550-53, no. 316, esp. p. 553:3f; Röhricht, RRH, Additamentum, p. 25f, no. 422a, esp. 26:5 offers a variant wording, domumqueportuivicinam). 130 see Gildemeister, as above, n. 71. 131 ibid. 132 “Caesarea is a big, impressive town; it has a flourishing suburb and an impregnable, beautiful enceinte” (Wa-Qaysāriyyabaladkabīr‛aẓīm,la-hūrabaḍ‛āmirwa-ḥiṣnmanī‛ḥasan; p. 365:1). 133 Mesqui, Césarée, p. 106a with n. 29. 134 ‛iryfhw-ṭovh; ed. Marcus Nathan Adler, TheitineraryofBenjaminofTudela (London: H. Frowde 667 [1907] [reprint New York: Philipp Feldheim s. d. (1966)]), p. Hebr. 21:16-19 [=p. 32]/Angl. 20. Mesqui (ibid., p. 106a, with n. 32) also quotes a phantasmagoric evocation of “Saracen” Caesarea as a, meanwhile vanished, terrestrial paradise between “Babylon and Babylonia, i. e. Baghdad in Persia and Memphis in Egypt” (interBabilonemetBabiloniam,idest BaldachinPersideetMenfiminEgipto) and preferred burial ground of the noble and powerful (ibique nobiles et potentes sepeliebantur; see [Anonymus, c. 1150] Descriptio de situ urbis Jerusalemetdelocissanctisintraipsamurbemsivecircumiacentibus, in: Melchior de Vogüé, LeséglisesdelaTerreSainte (Paris: Didron, 1860), pp. 412-33, esp. 430f, and, trl. James Rose Macpherson, Fetellus, Description of the Holy Land [Library of the Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society (PPTS), vol. V] (London: PPTS, 1896), pp. 1-54, esp. 46ff). Mesqui does concede its legendary features, relating them to a vague memory of the orchards devastated by the Crusaders in 1101 (for which see Caffaro, Annali, p. 9:20-23, and Albert of Aachen, Historia, p. 564/565, vii 55; but in a “Saracen”, i. e. presumably Muslim, frame of reference, paradisal associations and elite burials would belong with Jerusalem. Apart from erroneous dating and a misleading reference to Rorgo Fretellus, Mesqui gives entirely too much credence to the — but spottily educated — Anonymus. Rorgo’s Descriptiodelocissanctis of c. 1137 soberly concentrates on Caesarea’s pre-Christian and Christian history in antiquity (P[etrus] C. Boeren, RorgoFretellus de Nazareth et sa description de la Terre Sainte [Kgl. Nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschapen, Afd. Letterkunde, Verhandelingen, N. R.; CV] (Amsterdam: North Holland Publ. Co., 1980), esp. pp. 42, c. 74, and 43, app. in c. 75). The Anonymus cannot even correctly copy his source(s), as his entry on Caesarea nicely demonstrates, instead he enlarges on them in a récit

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Caesarea’s further destiny need not detain us here. It has been discussed extensively by others. Like many other sites in the Levant, its remains have suffered tremendously from resettlement and ever increasing population pressure since the later 19th century, and recently also from “development” or differently put, commodification.135 APPENDICES I The key term jalīl, in the entry on Caesarea represented by the negated elative, is one of al-Muqaddasī’s very favourite qualifiers, a “one-size-fits-all”, which he plausibly took over from his — more discriminating — predecessors al-Iṣṭakhrī and b. Ḥawqal;136 the entire gamut of its applications can be reduced to the notion of “consequence, substantiality, prestige”, which is conveniently predicable of a wide variety of objects, living beings, and notions. Well-nigh all geographical units, whether natural or manmade, may qualify as such: rural estates137 and districts,138 villages,139 towns,140 cities,141 border fortresses,142 “counties”,143 “territories”,144 provinces,145 or mines (ma‛ādin),146 mountains,147 and islands.148 Terms from the sociocultural, political, and religious spheres can be thus qualified as well — revenue,149 ceremonials,150 or individuals,151 such as jurisconsults,152 “leading religious scholars”,153 and “princes”.154 succulentettrèsdéveloppé, as Boeren aptly puts it (ibid.); the crocodiles allegedly living in the neighboring river exert a particular, if conventionally worded fascination on him. 135 Graphically, or precisely, photo-graphically demonstrated, see Mesqui, Césarée, passim. 136 This is not to imply that it had not been in use earlier on, but in the present context it may suffice to point to al-Muqaddasī’s two immediate precursors; cf. al-Iṣṭakhrī, pp. 59:8 ([Dimashq] ajallmadīnabi-sh-Shām — cf. 125:7 [Katha] minajallal-mudun [ilkh]), 125:11 (varia lectio: [khiṣb] al-mudunal-jalīla); Ibn Ḥawqal, 2pp. 174:1 (nawāḥīl-‛Irāqal-ḥasanaal-jalīla), 174:6 ([Dimashq] ajallmadīna bi-sh-Shām[cf. al-Iṣṭakhrī], 492:13 (masākinjalīla), 497:13 (wālījalīl), 500:14 (ahl-hāajall), 504:18f ([Khadīsar] ajallribāṭ). 137 ḍiyā‛ (e.g. pp. 174:2, 193:15, 299:18); ‛aqārāt (e.g. p. 431:5). 138 rasātīq (pp. 160:13, 164:7, 228:11, 260:6, 278:8, 299:18, 317:10, 423:3). 139 qurā (pp. 122:11, 152:1, 155:3, 176:16, 259:11, 295:1, 307:2, 385:5). 140 balad (pp. 47:12, 84:11, 92:6, 120:5, 138:4, 166:7, 11f [here Jerusalem termed balda], 278:4, 314:11, 390:13). 141 madīna (pp. 123:16, 274:14). 142 thaghr/thughūr (p. 140:18). 143 kūra/kuwar (e.g. pp. 68:8, 284:6, 15, 296:6 [MS B]). 144 a tentative rendering of ḥudūd, p. 67:7f, possibly also applicable to buq‛a, p. 67: app. ad 14 (MS C); cf. pp. 252:19, 259:6. 145 iqlīm/aqālīm (pp. 33:1, 57:13, 67:14 [al-Yaman al-jalīla] 124:12 [al-‛Irāq as a balad]). 146 p. 439:8. 147 p. 162:6: Tiberias is of consequence because of the two mountains within its jurisdiction, Jabal‛Āmila and JabalJarash. 148 Sicily, p. 232:13f. 149 dakhl (p. 152:1). 150 rasm (p. 436:1). 151 ajilla as a noun (pp. 33:2, 355:11). 152 jalīlat [meaning jalālat] al-fuqahā’ (p. 126:5). 153 a’imma (p. 448:17). 154 al-Shâr (ruler of “Gharj al-Shār” or Gharjistān, p. 310:6), mulūk (p. 404:8).

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II In an attempt to reflect the indeterminacy of khayrāt, which occurs twice in close order in al-Muqaddasī’s entry on Caesarea, it is alternatively translated as “crops” and “produce” (cf. p. 166:15ff, where bananas, figs, fresh dates, walnuts and almonds exemplify khayrāt; often it is coupled with other agricultural terms: (al-)fawākih (e.g. pp. 92:17 [yasārwa-tujjārwa-fawākih ...], 224:2 [wa-l-a‛sāl], 284:5, 409:7, 466:4); al-ḥubūb(pp. 56:2 [wa-l-tumūril-radī’a wa-l-‛asalil-kathīr], 226:20, 436:8 [wa-l-rummānwa-l-khayrāt]); al-tīnwa-l-zaytūn (pp. 227:7f, 229:14, 421:12f [al-nakhīl wa-l-tīnwa-l-zaytūnwa-l-dakhlwa-l-khayrāt]); al-biṭṭīkh (p. 414:7); al-ma‛āṣirwa-lmazāri‛wa-l-shajarwa-l-fawākih ... (284:15f); mazāri‛al-arzāzwa-l-rukhṣwa-l-khayrāt (p. 408:12f). It may form part of longer or shorter phrases (not necessarily restricted to agriculture) and provide a convenient rhyme: kathīratal-qurāwa-l-basātīnwa-lkhayrātwa-ma‛dinal-ṣābūnal-jayyidwa-l-zaytūn (p. 141:8); lātas’al‛anṭībatihimā wa-‛imāratihimā wa-khayrātihimā (p. 279:16); dhāt utrunj wa-zaytūn wa-‛unnāb wa-tīnghazīratal-anhārkathīratal-basātīnlahārustāqjalīlwa-l-khayrātbihākathīr (p. 354:3f); wa-l-baḥrwa-l-buḥayrātwa-l-bābwa-l-ribāṭāt,wa-l-dīnwa-l-khayrāt (p. 373:10f, plausibly alluding to the Koranic usage “blessings/good deeds” [see concordance]); dhātrustāqwāsi‛wa-sūqkabīrwa-khaṣā’iṣwa-khayrāt (p. 412:10f); bihā aswāq‛āmirawa-khayrātkathīrawa-jāmi‛bahī (p. 413:11); kathīral-khayrātwa-ma‛din al-tijārāt (p. 421:3); iqlīm al-dhahab wa-l-tijārāt wa-l-‛aqāqīr wa-l-ālāt wa-l-fānīdh wa-l-khayrāt,wa-siyāsātwa-bihīkhaṣā’iṣwa-fawā’idwa-biḍā‛āt (p. 474:2f). In the formulaic kathīr(at)/aktharal-khayrāt the term either stands alone (pp. 116:12; 166:9, 15; 388:8; 425;2) or is joined to a parallel phrase, such as shadīd(at)al-‛imāra (p. 283: 4f). The overview here presented (without pretension to completeness) expresses a wider range of meaning than indicated by the quoted selection of Palestinian produce and suggested by BGA IV 231, s.r. khyr.

III The term ḥiṣn, above rendered as “enceinte”, has for long been a cause of confusion and misunderstanding; in nominal sentences of the present pattern, with ḥiṣn in predicative position following a preposition for subject (mubtada’) — here li- or ‛alā —, the term ḥiṣn in al-Muqaddasī regularly, albeit not exclusively, denotes a “fortification”, walls, etc., around a city, rather than a “castle” or “citadel” (see again Mesqui, Césarée, as in n. 8; even Michaudel, hélas, got it wrong). The problem of how to square his wording with the actual archaeological evidence at Caesarea was dealt with above; here his usage of ḥiṣn will be traced. Obviously, in this as in other matters al-Muqaddasī built on his predecessors; thus al-Iṣṭakhrī differentiates the various meanings of the word with respect to the situation in Fārs: there were (1) “cities fortified with walls” (mudunā muḥaṣṣanabi-ḥiṣn); (2) “fortresses within a city surrounded by suburbs” (ḥuṣūndākhil al-madīna wa-ḥawālīhā arbāḍ); (3) “citadels within cities” (quhandizāt fī mudun); (4) “impregnable mountain fortresses, isolated from [other] building, standing alone” (ḥuṣūn fījibāl manī‛a,mufrada‛anal-binyān,qā’imabi-anfusihā; p. 116:1ff; cf. 125:12). In the following list of places, al-Iṣṭakhrī exemplifies his categories: ḥiṣn is a fortified town, which may in addition have a citadel (quhandiz: “old castle”) within and suburbs without, madīna referring either to the walled “center” or to the entire urban territory; e.g., Jūr (later: Fīrūzābād) is said to “be encompassed by an enceinte, without a suburb” (‛alayhā ḥiṣn wa-laysa bihā rabaḍ; ibid., l. 6f). Al-Muqaddasī’s usage of muḥaṣṣan(a) — or ḥaṣīn(a) — and ‛alayhi/-hā ḥiṣn, as just noted, does not differ from al-Iṣṭakhrī’s;

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a few examples will suffice (pp. 140:21 [Jināb (?)]; 141:13f [Ḥarrān]; 156:18 [coastal towns in the Levant], 21 [Dimashq]; 229:11 [Fās]; 273:9 [Khūrlūgh], 11 [Arsubānīkath]; 291:6 [Tirmidh]; 305:18 [Zaranj]). Further illustrative examples are provided by the “city walls” or ḥiṣnof al-Raqqa, in that they are wide enough for two horsemen abreast (p. 141:6), Damascus’ new walls of mud-brick, which al-Muqaddasī saw go up (p. 156:21), or those of Jaén; although its ḥiṣn had fallen into ruin, the town’s location on a hilltop rendered it impregnable (qadkharuba ḥiṣnuhāghayraannahāmanī‛atunbi-l-jabal, p. 234:9f). IV At first sight, it would appear that rabaḍ denotes, as Gil pointedly, if confusedly, remarks, the suburb extramuros.155 Yet al-Muqaddasī’s usage is, as it were, pliable; on the one hand, in his entry on Jerusalem, he calls Silwān a hamlet (maḥalla) in what apparently denotes the city’s extramural area (fī rabaḍi l-madīna, p. 171:11), on the other hand, al-Rāfiqa, “sister” city of al-Raqqa, the capital of Diyār Muḍar, simply figures as its rabaḍ(p. 141:12), although of its urban quality there can be no doubt; cf. Ibn Ḥawqal’s description of al-Raqqa and al-Rāfiqa as well-nigh contiguous cities (madīnatānka-l-mutalāṣiqatayn) and being but “many cubits” apart (bā’ina…biadhru‛kathīra; p. 225:22f). First al-Muqaddasī includes al-Rāfiqa in the introductory list of cities (mudun) in the district (p. 137:13), and even though he then places it in al-Raqqa’s extraurban area, after the even closer declining and ruinous al-Muḥtariqa, al-Rāfiqa’s (as well as al-Muḥtariqa’s) position in the account is that of a madīna. Indeed, its and alRaqqa’s Friday mosques are compared for location, the former in the goldsmiths’ sūq and the latter in the mercers’, although yet again, al-Muqaddasī neglects to record al-Rāfiqa’s fortification, which is documented in actual fact.156 Al-Jibāl (or al-Jināb?, name uncertain), a lesser city in the region, may present a similar case; as such it is qualified as “fortified” (ḥaṣīna), endowed with a “citadel” (bi-hāqal‛a) and a rabaḍ where the Friday mosque is located (p. 140:21) . Regardless of the differences in urban lay-out and spatial organization between cities in the Fertile Crescent and in Iran, especially greater Khorāsān and Transoxiana, Iranian cities also offer instructive examples. Their arbāḍ were not as a matter of course unfortified; examples are Ūzkand (yuḥīṭubi-rabaḍihāḥā’iṭ, p. 272:2f); A/Isbījāb (qaṣaba with madīna, and“its ‘suburb’ is surrounded by an enceinte”: wa-‛alā rabaḍihā ḥiṣn, p. 272:17-273:4); Binkath (with two walled “suburbs” (rabaḍān ‛alā kulli rabaḍ ḥiṣn, p. 276:1, 9). Conversely, as seen above (n. 21) Jūr in Fārs was expressly noted as having an enceinte, but no rabaḍ (al-Muqaddasī omits this fact, p. 432:7etc.). V Al-Muqaddasī appears to stress (qad udīra) the fact that Caesarea’s fortification runs around the rabaḍ; for this construction of dwr IV cf. the “unmarked” parallels pp. 73:2f, 157:11 (wa-udīra ‛alā ṣaḥnihī/ṣ-ṣaḥn arwiqa thalātha/muta‛āliya: porticoes around 155

Moshe Gil, Ereṣ-Jiśra᾿elba-tequfahha-muslemitha-rishonah:(634-1099), volumes I-III: (I) ‛Iyyunimhisṭoriyim, (II) Ketubimmig-GenizatQahir, (III) Ketubimmi-GenizatQahir:mafteḥot [Publications of the Diaspora Research Institute, volumes XLI, LVII, LVIII] (Tel Aviv Univ., 1983), [vol. I] trl. Ethel Broido, AhistoryofPalestine,634-1099 (Cambridge &ct: CUP, 1992), esp. Engl. p. 218ff, n. 96 /Hebr. I: 179f, n. 330 (the English version smoothes over the original). 156 Michael Meinecke, “al-Raḳḳa”, 2EI VIII [1994]: 410a-414b, esp. 410b-411a, 412b.

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the court of the Meccan sanctuary and the great mosque of Damascus), and 300:4f (... anyudāra‛alāl-baladikullihīl-ḥā’iṭ: a sarcastic suggestion to build a wall around the entire territory of Naysābūr). Further, his somewhat fluid usage of rabaḍ would seem to suggest that the status of madīna, and plausibly of rabaḍ, was not solely contingent on the existence or non- of such markers as an enceinte or a Friday mosque or relative location, but was ultimately ascribed, i. e. socially constructed. Convergent testimony on Caesarea as a fortified town is extant in a Geniza document from around 1025 CE (Gil, Palestine, I: 218 [Engl.]/179[Hebr.], II: 81f, no. 48). The letter in question is addressed to “the entire holy congregation residing in the fortified city of Caesarea” (le-kolha-qahalha-qadoshha-darimbe-mibṣarḤaṣor). Mibṣār, as it does here, frequently denotes fortified towns rather than “fortresses”.157 In a later letter, from the 1090s, Ḥaṣor also figures as a medinah (Gil, ibid., III: 430:1f). For the medieval identification of Caesarea as Ḥaṣor see primarily Tanḥum ha-Yerushalmi (d. 1291) on Joshua XI 13, where he glosses ḤaṣorbyhiyaQaysāriyya.158 VI As noted above, footnote 62 was not to posit the identity of the present site of Khirbat Māmās as the place al-Muqaddasī had in mind, but merely the survival of the name in an area within the then perimeter of Jerusalem’s territory. It would not have served the author’s purpose to refer to a site far beyond the Jerusalem city limits, such as Māmās by Caesarea, at the southern foot of Mt. Carmel. Under the Roman Empire, this country town in Caesarea’s territory159 boasted a remarkable urban infrastructure and may for some time have functioned as a spa of sorts,160 if, as appears plausible, the site can be identified as the Bordeaux Pilgrim’s (mons) Syna; its spring was reported to induce pregnancy in women bathers.161 The name Māmās has persuasively been interpreted as 157 See TheDictionaryofClassicalHebrew, ed. David J. A. Clines, volumes I-IX (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993-2016), V [ed. David M. Stec, 2001]: 128 a-b, s.v. mbṣr 158 Here quoted from Gil, Palestine, I: 219f/180, and Hans-Georg von Mutius, Der JosuaKommentardesTanchumbenJosefha-Jeruschalmi, neu herausgegeben, übersetzt und mit ausführlichen Erläuterungen versehen [Judaistische Texte und Studien, Band 9] (Hildesheim, Zürich, New York: Olms, 1983), fol. 21b:9f. 159 The inscription (Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum [CIL]III, Suppl. II, no. 12082), which permits this conclusion has repeatedly been published and more often quoted; see Karl Zangemeister, “Inschrift der Vespasianischen Colonie Caesarea in Palästina”, ZDPV 13 (1890), pp. 2530; Eberhard Graf von Mülinen, “Beiträge zur Kenntnis des Karmels (Fortsetzung), ibid. 31 (1908), pp. 1-258, esp. 240ff (photographs!); for more, though not complete references see Jens Börstinghaus, SturmfahrtundSchiffbruch[Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, Reihe 2, vol. 274] (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), p. 328f (with fns and ill. 7.1; the granite column, which bears the inscription, is at its present location, the Jerusalem Rockefeller Museum, inventoried under no. 32.2894). — Mülinen’s stricture against the spelling Māmās and preference of Miamās is otiose (ibid., p. 240); on the other hand, the place-name he mentions as current, al-Shūna, appears to be troublingly close to the Bordeaux pilgrim’s Syna. 160 Elie Shenhav, “Le théâtre romain de Shuni rival de celui de Césarée”, Le monde de la Bible 67 (1990), 58-60; Emmanuel Friedheim & Shimon Dar, “Some historical and archaeological notes about paganism in Byzantine Palestine”, Revuebiblique 117 (2010), pp. 397-409, esp. 405-07, ns. 27f, 37f. 161 ItinerariumBurdigalense, ed. Otto Cuntz [Itineraria Romana, volumen I] (Stuttgart: Teubner 1929 [reprint 1990]), p. 94b, 585:8-586:2; cf. Denys Pringle and Peter E. Leach, Thechurches oftheCrusaderKingdomofJerusalem, vols. I-IV (Cambridge UP 1993-2009), I: 122a-b, no. 58,

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derived from (Semito-) Greek Maïoumas (Μαϊουμᾶς), in which an aquatic, not exclusively marine, connotation appears to have been present for a long time; thus as a place name it was not restricted to seaside settlements such as the ports of Gaza and Ascalon.162 Nor did it only serve as a toponym; in late antiquity it may even more often have denoted certain vernal festivals in which water had a central role.163 This elegantly fits Caesarea’s Māmās with its hydraulic structures and where an original name (“Syna” for the Bordeaux pilgrim) might have been replaced by that of the popular celebrations.164 In Arabic letters, it was, other than the Jerusalem enthusiast al-Muqaddasī would have it, not the Māmās he claimed for Aelia (Īliyā), but Dayr Mīmās, a monastery in the vicinity of Ḥimṣ, which gained some notoriety as a locusamoenus; its name allegedly was taken from a river close by.165 During the crusader period, the name where a note of scepticism is sounded concerning an identification of Mamas with the crusader casale Bethalla. 162 Karl Preisendanz, Felix Jacoby, Gustav Hölscher, “Maïumas”, in Pauly-Wissowa, Realenzyklopädie, XIV (1930), coll. 610-13; Glen Warren Bowersock, “Maioumas”, in LateAntiquity: a guide to the post-classical world, eds. idem, Peter Brown, Oleg Grabar [Harvard University Press reference library] (Boston, MA, and London: Belknap/Harvard UP, 1999), p. 553; C. Detlef G. Müller, “Maiuma”, in ReligioninGeschichteundGegenwart, ed. Hans Dieter Betz [4th ed.], vols. I-IX (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998-2007), V [2002]: 695f. Of the two port towns, by Gaza and Ascalon, only the former appears, as Mīmās, in Arabic; see b. Ḥawqal, pp. 165:14, 167 top; al-Muqaddasī, pp. 155:1 (omitted in the parallel passage, p. 54:15f), 174:5f, 177:11 (only in B); al-Bakrī, al-Masālik, II: 761:12. In an apocryphal tradition about ‛Umar’s campaign in Palestine, ‛Abdallāh b. Mas‛ūd is said to have named the coastal towns of Gaza, Mīmās and Ascalon as goals after the occupation of Jerusalem; Muḥammad b. ‛Abd al-Mun‛im al-Ḥimyarī, al-Rawḍ al-mi‛ṭār, ed. Iḥsān ‛Abbās (Beirut: Maktabat Lubnān, 1975), p. 510a:-13ff. 163 Konstantina Mentzu-Meimare, “Der ‘ΧΑΡΙΕΣΤΑΤΟΣ ΜΑΙΟΥΜΑΣ’”, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 89 (1996): 58-73; Nicole Belayche, “Pagan festivals in fourth-century Gaza”, in ChristianGazainLateAntiquity, eds. Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony and Arieh Kofsky [Jerusalem studies in religion and culture, volume III] (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2004), pp. 5-22, esp. 14-16; Friedheim & Dar, “Paganism”. 164 Parallels of such dual or alternative place-name are attested on the Madaba map, as in ΒΗΤΟΜΑΡΣΕΑ Ή ΚΑΙ ΜΑΪΟΥΜΑΣ, between the Dead Sea and Karak; Friedheim & Dar, “Paganism”, esp. p. 405, n. 27. 165 a. l-Faraj ‛Alī b. al-Ḥusayn al-Iṣbahānī, Kitābal-Aghānī, vols. I-XXIV (Cairo: Dār al-kutub al-miṣriyya, 1927-94 [also reprint, 1993]), XIV: 51-68 (Dīk al-Jinn), esp. 61:3-62:1; Yāqūt al-Ḥamawī, al-Khazal wa-l-da’al bayn al-dūr wa-l-dārāt wa-l-diyara, vols. I-II, eds. Yaḥyā Zakariyyā’ ῾Abbāra and Muḥammad Adīb Jamrān [Iḥyā’ al-turāth al-‛arabī, vol. CVI] (Damascus: Wizarāt al-Thaqāfa, 1998), II: 223-25, no. 252; Aḥmad b. Yaḥyā “b. Faḍlallāh al-‛Umarī”, Masālik al-abṣārfīmamālikal-amṣār, vols. I-XXVII, ed. Aḥmad Zakī Bāshā [vol. I only] (Cairo: Maṭba‛at Dār al-kutub 1342/1924), I: 330:7-331:6 (= ed. Fuat Sezgin, 27 in 24 vols. with indices vols. XXVIIIXXX [Frankfurt a. Main: Institute for the History of Arabic-Islamic Science, 1988-2001], I: 242f). Al-Ashja‛’s verses on a. Nuwās spiritedly reciting his own and others’ poetry at Mīmās are not included in the collection of fragments by Khalīl Binyān al-Ḥassūn, Ashja‛al-Sulamī (Beirut: Dār al-masīra, 1401/1981). As so often reflected in Arabic (and Persian) poetry, the monastery also served as a tavern. Generally for the two poets quoted, see Reinhard Weipert, “Ashja‛” and “Dīk al-Jinn”, EI3, 2009-3, pp. 117b-118a, and 2011-4, pp. 137a-138b. — During the Byzantine campaigns in the area in the later 10th century, Bardas Phocas payed a pious visit to the church at Mīmās in 372/983; Ḥamza b. Asad b. al-Qalānisī, DhaylTa’rīkhDimashq, ed. Henry F. Amedroz (Leiden: Brill, 1908), p. 29:7. According to the editors of Yāqūt’s al Khazal (see above), in present-day Ḥimṣ Mīnās is the name of a promenade along the Orontes, whereas the memory of a homonymous monastery has vanished entirely.

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Mimas or Meimes — either one explicable on the basis of imāla166 — most prominently denoted a casale by Acre;167 an otherwise not identifiable Mimarcium has been related to one or the other of two places named Mīmās in present-day South Lebanon.168 VII In al-Muqaddasī, Kafr Sallām figures regularly among populous and “considerable” (jalīla) villages with Friday mosques.169 To predicate the “substance” (jalāla) of a given town (balad) on that of its dependencies, as here suggested, draws but a parallel to the author’s correlation of the “substance” of a “county” (kūra) to that of its rural districts (rasātīq) rather than to the mere number of its “cities” (mudun, p. 228:10ff).170 Yet the prosperity alluded to by al-Muqaddasī did not last. Whenever the settlement fell waste, whether as early as the mid-11th century or only during the Crusader period, it has completely vanished from sight, nor has it been possible to identify it on the ground.171 Following al-Muqaddasī’s seemingly straightforward account, it was situated, at about a day’s distance, on the “highway” (jādda) from Caesarea to Nāblus,172 which places it considerably further north than Kafr Sābā, where the highway from al-Ramla and Ludd (Lydda) bifurcated, one branch going to Caesarea and the other, in the direction of Damascus, to Qalansuwa (p. 192, n. g [MS C], cf. 176:21). Thus it would seem that regardless of medieval Kafr Sābā’s precise location in relation to its present-day namesake, it succeeded classical Antipatris as a relay station.173 Unfortunately, the examined texts, primarily al-Muqaddasī, Nāṣer-e Khosrow and Yāqūt, in addition to the even less precise western sources, present partially confused and contradictory evidence. Thus al-Muqaddasī indiscriminately applies the unit of a 166

See n. 177 below. See Mayer, Urkunden, IV (Namenregister): 1664b; idem in: Montjoie: StudiesinCrusade HistoryinHonourofHansEberhardMayer, eds. Bejamin Z. Kedar, Jonathan Riley-Smith and Rudolf Hiestand (Aldershot, Hampshire: Variorum/Ashgate, 1997), p. ix; Revised, s.v. Mimas. 168 Mayer, ibid., s.v. Mimart, and Revised, s.v. Mimar. 169 See pp. 155:3f; 176:16; 177:1 (kabīraāhila); 192:2 [B]/-10f [C], 13; 228:11. 170 Cf. Gideon Avni, TheByzantine-IslamicTransitioninPalestine:anarchaeologicalapproach (Oxford UP, 2014), p. 289, fn. 480. 171 See here below and Reginald Denys Pringle, TheRedTower(al-Burjal-Ahmar):settlement intheplainofSharonatthetimeoftheCrusadersandMamluks,A.D.1099-1516 [British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem, Monograph Series No. 1] (London: British School of Archaelogy in Jerusalem, 1986), pp. 9, 11, 12, 41, 72, and esp. 33f — in the present discussion not unquestioningly reproduced). Miquel, Répartition, map VIIa (before p. 161) localizes it alternatively along the road to al-Lajjūn, which a review of al-Muqaddasī’s two versions does not necessarily support. Kafr Sallām might have to be sought either with Pringle (ibid., pp. 10, 34a) to the west or, given al-Muqaddasī’s “stage” from Caesarea, to the east of the intersection with the NābulusCaesarea road. Cf. also Gustav Beyer, “Das Gebiet der Kreuzfahrerherrschaft Caesarea in Palästina siedlungs- und territorialgeschichtlich untersucht”, ZDPV 59 (1936), pp. 1-91, esp. 46 (critically towards Yāqūt, but leaving the question undecided). 172 pp. 177:1, 192:7, 9; this highway is not as a matter of course to be identified as his “Damascus highway”, p. 176:21. 173 Al-Muqaddasī pointedly notes it as a post-stage (barīd), pp. 191:3, 192:15 (MS C). For Antipatris in the same function see ItinerariumBurdigalense, p. 600. Present-day Kafr Sābā is west of and close by, Qalqīliya. Josephus’s at first sight baffling statement that the “plain” where Antipatris was to be built went by the name Kapharsabâ would permit its fluid application to several agglomerations throughout history (Antiquitates XVI 142f vs. XIII 390). 167

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day’s journey (marḥala) to vastly differing distances within the same region, in the given case, Palestine.174 The sketch given above is an attempt at a plausible reduction, based in part on al-Muqaddasī’s positing four roads departing from Caesarea, north to al-Kanīsa, roughly east-south-east to Kafr Sallām, southeast to Kafr Sābā, and south to Arsūf (p. 192:13f), but again, it would seem that the term “stage” could be applied to variant distances. Kafr Sallām may have been noticeably closer to Caesarea than the other three towns.175 Now as for Nāṣer-e Khosrow, if the extant text be trusted (p. 32:811), he conflated the two villages, Kafr Sallām and Kafr Sābā, whether in the quick notes he jotted down along the way or only later in writing them up. However, considering the distances he, ever the attentive traveller, covered between Caesarea and al-Ramla altogether and between Kafr Sābā and al-Ramla, resp., eight and three parasangs, it is clear that he spent the night at Kafr Sābā instead of making what would have amounted to a detour via Kafr Sallām. Yāqūt, finally, would seem to locate Kafr Sallām correctly — at least in agreement with al-Muqaddasī — at four parasangs from Caesarea on the road to Nābulus (IV 288:15f), whereas he erroneously assigned Kafr Sābā a place nearby (ibid., 12), as Miquel noted.176 As noted above, and quite plausibly so, the Latin “Capharsala” or “Carvasalim”, attested for 1065 in contemporary accounts, cannot be more precisely located than somewhere off-road between Caesarea and ar-Ramla.177 While its “castle” was said to have been abandoned, the place can hardly have been entirely deserted. In a deed of 1131, Cafarsalem — which, considering imāla in Palestinian Arabic,178 can pass as a close approximation of Kafr Sallām — is included among possessions of Gautier Granier, the lord of Caesarea.179 Its position on the list temptingly suggests locating it, very roughly, 174 He may have copied from earlier authors, such as Ibn Ḥawqal (2pp. 186:15-187:2) or relied on approximative oral reports; for discrepancies, see pp. 191-92. 175 See Pringle, Tower, pp. 33b, 34a and p. 10, fig. 3. 176 Répartition, p. 292f. 177 See Pringle, Tower, p. 33b;AnnalesAltahensesmaiores [SS rer. Germ. ... ex Monumentis Germaniae Historicis (MGM) recusi, IV] (Hanoverae: Bibliopol. Hahn., 21891), p. 68f, and Marianus Scottus [MGM, SS V] (Hannoverae: Bibliopol. Hahn., 1844), p. 559; cf. Lampertus Hersfeldensis [SS rer. Germ ... ex MGM recusi, XXXVIII] (Hannoverae: Bibliopol. Hahn., 1894), pp. 93:22-94:22, with notes; the editor, unwittingly following Nāṣer-e Khosrow, erroneously identified the site as Kafr Sābā, whereas Charles Schefer (SeferNameh, p. 62f, n. 1) does keep the two places apart; however, for want of data on Kafr Sallām, which he wrongly locates on the coast, he digresses on Kafr Sābā (cf. Le Strange, Palestine, p. 472). Apparently all three Latin accounts, a critical review of which will have to wait, were based on oral reports by eyewitnesses. However, the reported time and place of the marauders’ attack on the pilgrims can only with difficulty be reconciled with Kafr Sallām, allegedly a day’s journey distant from Caesarea, although the non-Latin, exotic toponym Carvasalim cannot be easily dismissed. 178 For Crusader period evidence on imāla see, by way of example only, Arabic place-names and male names in a deed of 1178 by Baldwin IV (Hans Eberhard Mayer, Jean Richard, DieUrkunden der lateinischen Könige von Jerusalem, volumes I-IV [MGH; Diplomata regum latinorum hierosoymitanorum, partes I-IV] (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung 2010), II:688-91, no. 405, esp. 690:22 [Latinized toponym “Sileta”, P. G. 167/191], 690:37-691:20 [male names]; cf. generally, Aryeh Levin, “’Imāla”, in Encyclopedia of Arabic language and linguistics, vols. I-V, gen. ed. Kees Versteegh (Leiden, etc.: Brill 2006-09), II (2007): 311a-315a, esp. 312b, iii. 179 See http://crusades-regesta.com/database?search_api_views_fulltext=Cafarsalem&field_ institution_recipient=&field_grantor=&field_recepient=&field_year_1=&field_year=&field_ term_type_field_term_title= [accessed 26 oct 2016], based on Joseph M. Delaville le Roulx, Cartulairegénéraldel’ordredeshospitaliersdeS.JeandeJérusalem, vols. I-IV, (Paris: Leroux, 1894-1906), I: 83-84, no. 94, and Reinhold Röhricht, RegestaRegniHierosolymitani(MXCVIIMCCXCI), (Oeniponti [Innsbruck]: Libraria Wagneriana, 1893 [RRH]; Additamenta, ibid., 1904), p. 35, no. 139; cf. Beyer, “Gebiet”, esp. 46, 50.

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between Qāqūn and Qalansuwa, which would also nicely agree with a location along the road from Nābulus to Caesarea.180 Yet precisely in contrast to Qāqūn and Qalansuwa — not to mention other places in Caesarea’s domain — Cafarsalem was attested just this one time; provided the name did refer to the same place as castellumvacuumCarvasalim in Marianus Scottus, it may simply have fallen waste earlier than at first glance intimated by Yāqūt’s, possibly derivative, entry. On the other hand, it may be asked whether with increasing Frankish settlement in the Crusader kingdom, it assumed a new identity under a Latin or old French name; at this point, the question will have to remain undecided.181 VIII Concerning buffalo husbandry in the region, the above-mentioned St. Willibald (see n. 80) is an indispensible, if long-known, witness;182 regrettably for our purposes he did not take the via maris, but en route from Damascus to Jerusalem passed through the Jordan valley and, plausibly around Lake Huleh, encountered and unequivocally described buffaloes.183 The Arabic sources preserve the memory of the relatively recent introduction of water buffaloes into the region; provided that Mu‛āwiya’s (r. 41-60/66180, here 49 or 50/669-70) resettlement of Zuṭṭ from al-Baṣra to the littoral (as-sawāḥil) and Antioch is taken to include maintenance of their traditional source of livelihood, buffalo husbandry, this would provide the earliest date transmitted.184 Reports about Zuṭṭ deportations to al-Shām and its northern border region (al-thughūr) during the Marwānid period (al-Walīd I, 86-96/705-15, and Yazīd II, 101-5/720-24)185 usually mention them as tenders of buffaloes, whether they came from the swamps of al-Kūfa, where they had been settled since before Islam, or from al-Sind, following the campaign of 93/711.186 Due to the sources’ emphasis on military expansion, the border regions of northern Syria and neighboring coastal Cilicia figure more prominently than 180 This is not to dismiss Pringle’s observations, Tower, pp. 33b-34a. Cf. C[laude] R[eignier] Conder and H[oratio] H[erbert] Kitchener, MapofWesternPalestinein26sheets, London: The Committee of the Palestine Exploration Fund 1880, sheet XI, Jm and Jn, resp.; iidem, SWPII: Samaria [1882], pp. 195, 199. 181 For the Crusader seigneurie of Caesarea and its borders cf. Beyer, “Gebiet”, esp. the sketch map, pp. 7-8, now to be verified with reference to the following: RevisedRRHDatabase (http://crusades-regesta.com/); Mayer, Urkunden, IV, “Namenregister” (pp. 1612b, 1623b, 1624a, 1628b, 1629b, 1633a, s. vv. Aree, Cacco, Cafarlet, Calanssun, Cossie, Daidonum, Fieissa, and unidentified sites, e.g., Aldie, p. 1609b, Beledam, p. 1618b; Bethalla, p. 1620b; the casalia Alemanni, p. 1625b; Rubeum, ibid.; Sancte Anne, ibid.; Templi, ibid.; Galilea, p. 1635a-b; Gedesa, p. 1637b; Turris Salinarum, p. 1690b); Geneviève Bresc-Bautier, LecartulaireduChapitreduSaint- Sépulcre de Jérusalem [Documents relatifs à l’histoire des croisades, vol. XV] (Paris: Geuthner, 1984), “index locorum”. For place-names formed with “buffalo” see below, Appendix VII. 182 Hodoeporicon [Monumenta Germaniae Historica (MGH), SS XV,1] (Hannoverae: Bibliopol. Hahn., 1887), pp. 86-106, esp. 96:10-13. 183 Cf. Carl Ritter, DieErdkundevonAsien VIII,2,2,1, Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1850, p. 228f, with refs.; relating to the Mandate period: Sandra Marlene Sufian, Healingthelandandthenation: malariaandtheZionistprojectinPalestine,1920-1947, Chicago: U of Chicago Press, 2007, pp. 159, 301). 184 al-Balādhurī, Aḥmad b. Yaḥyā b. Jābir, Futūḥal-buldān, ed. Michael Jan de Goeje, Liber expugnationisregionum (Leiden: Brill, 1866 [reprint ibid., 1986]), pp. 162:5-9, 368:8ff. 185 cf. Le Strange, Palestine, p. 376. 186 al-Balādhurī, ibid., pp. 167:17-20, 167:20-168:1, 168:1-5, 373:20-374:5, 376:8ff; cf. al-Mas‛ūdī, Murūjal-dhahab PARIS III 28:8-11=PELLAT II 124, §§ 869-70, K.al-Tanbīhwa-lishrāf[BGA, VIII], p. 355:6-16.

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other parts of al-Shām; whereas the littoral is mentioned in general terms, the Jordan valley, for which there is Willibald’s precious witness, is passed in silence. As for the area around Caesarea, the swampy grounds along the Crocodile River to the north would have provided an appropriate habitat (cf. n. 72), as Victor Guérin reported for the 1860s.187 According to creditable tradition, uncontrolled flooding around Caesarea, which resulted from the degradation of the hyraulic works north of the town in late antiquity, was already noted critically by Caesarea’s conqueror Mu‛āwiya.188 If according to al-Jahshiyārī’s account Mu‛āwiya thus took cognizance of climatic and environmental conditions in Palestine, his above-mentioned resettlement of buffalo-herders may well have included the Palestinian in addition to the North-Syrian littoral. Concerning the coast between Tyre and Caesarea, an incidental report from the mid-second/eighth century mentions a ‘wild bull’ (thaurwaḥsh) as welcome prey of a starving band of wayfarers.189 Additional evidence for buffaloes in Palestine is provided by — mostly — Latin sources from the Crusader period. A careful interpretation of narrative texts, such as exist about the first Crusade, has to consider the respective authors’ education and idiosyncracies in addition to ideological and literary constraints effective supra-individually. Thus in Gesta Francorum, which is based on participants’ accounts, it is only buffalo hides which figure as water skins during the siege of Jerusalem in the summer of 1099, and a year earlier, at Antioch, where the besieged and starved Franks boiled them for food.190 At first sight, the mention of buffaloes, their meat and hides, by authors of greater literary ambition and writing at a remove from the scene, may appear less trustworthy; however, a writer such as Albert of Aachen cannot be as easily dismissed. His interest in regional, novel specialties also comes across in his detailed account of sugar production.191 There is, thus, no good reason to doubt Albert’s repeated references to buffaloes; first, they figure among the animals in the booty of Dorylaeum (July 187 Descriptiongéographique,historiqueetarchéologiquedelaPalestine, partie I,1-3, II,1-2, III, 1-2 (Paris: Challamel aîné/Imprimerie impériale/nationale, 1868-80), II,2 [1875], p. 339; about 25 minutes on horseback to the Northeast of the medieval enceinte, dans une belle plaine he encountered water-buffaloes with their herders, who were even known by their animals as jāmūsīya; cf. ibid., p. 341. 188 Muḥammad b. ‛Abdūs al-Jahshiyārī [d. 331/942], Kitāb al-wuzarā’ wa-l-kuttāb, eds. Muṣṭafā al-Saqqā, Ibrāhīm al-Abyārī, ‛Abd al-Ḥafīẓ Shalabī (Cairo: Muṣṭafā al-Bābī al-Ḥalabī, 1357/1938), p. 26:9f: “droughty al-Dārūm ... regularly flooded Caesarea” (bi-l-Dārūmil-mijdāb ... bi-Qaysāriyyatal-mighrāq); cf. Amikam El‛ad, “The Coastal Cities of Palestine during the Early Middle Ages”, The Jerusalem Cathedra: Studies in the history, archaeology, geography and ethnographyoftheLandofIsrael (Jerusalem: Yad Iẓḥak Ben-Zvi Institute and Detroit: Wayne State University Press) 2 (1982): 146-67, esp. 151f; Whitcomb, “Caesarea”, p. 69f. 189 apud b. ‛Asākir, Ta’rīkh Dimashq, vols. I-LXXX (Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 1415-21/19952001), VI: 329:3-10, no. 365: Ibrāhīm b. Adham. 190 Gesta Francorum, ed. Heinrich Hagenmeyer, Anonymi Gesta Francorum, Heidelberg: Winter, 1890), pp. 460:1-5 and 352:3ff, capp. XXXVIII, 8, and XXVI, 5, resp.; ed. Rosalind Hill, ThedeedsoftheFranksandtheotherpilgrimstoJerusalem, London: Nelson 1962 [repr. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972 & 1979]), pp. 89 and 62; generally on the Gesta see ThedeedsoftheFranks andotherJerusalem-boundpilgrims:theearliestchronicleofthefirstcrusade, ed. and trl. Nirmal Dass (Lanham, Md and Plymouth: Rowman & Littlefield, 2011), esp. p. 6. 191 HistoriaIerosolimitana, ed. and trl. Susan B. Edgington, AlbertofAachen, Historia Ierosolimitana: historyofthejourneytoJerusalem (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2007), pp. 386-89, V 37); cf. the less circumstantial report by the eyewitness Fulcher, HistoriaHierosolymitana, ed. and trl. Heinrich Hagenmeyer, Fulcheri Carnotensis Historia Hierosolymitana 1095-1127 (Heidelberg: Winter, 1913), pp. 329, 355ff, I, xxxiii, 10; II, i, 5.

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1097): buflos, boves et arietes, camelos, asinos, equos et mulos — as compared to equosetasinos,camelos,oves,etbovesetplurimaaliaquaeignoramus in the Gesta Francorum.192 Then again in contrast to the Gesta, he included buffaloes in the livestock captured in August 1099 on the plain north of Ascalon.193 But evidence on Palestinian and even, so to speak, Caesareensian buffaloes from the Crusader period is not limited to narrative sources. Exactly for its casualness, the incidental testimony of archival documents, often of unrelated focus, can command more credence than narrative texts. A “buffalo business”, if buflaria can be thus approximated, existed in Jerusalem in 1163,194 but more to the point, the seigneurie of Caesarea included a “buffalo hill”195 as well as a “buffalo village”, of which besides Latin and Latinized names an apparently more common old French name, deBufles, is also attested;196 its name and site have been taken to survive in modern Khirbat Bablūn.197 In Crusader society an awareness of buffaloes is not least reflected in the adoption of bubalus, along with other animal-names, as a distinguishing moniker of namesakes.198 192

Hist.Ierosol., pp. 136-39, II 43; Gesta, ed. Hagenmeyer, p. 204/Hill, p. 20, IX, 9. Gesta, ed. Hagenmeyer, pp. 490, 499/Hill, pp. 94, 97, XXXIX 10, 20; Albert, Hist.Ierosol., pp. 456-9, 470f, capp. VI 42, 50. 194 RevisedRRHDatabase, no. 712 (anteBuflariam; Sebastiano Paoli, Codicediplomaticodel sacromilitareOrdinegerosolimitanooggidiMalta, vols. I-II [Lucca: Marescandoli, 1733, 1737], I: 235f, no. 190; RRH, no. 483); cf. Meron Benvenisti, “Bovaria – babriyya: A Frankish Residue on the Map of Palestine”, Outremer — Studies in the history of the Crusading Kingdom of Jerusalem presented to Joshua Prawer, eds. B[enjamin] Z[e’ev] Kedar, H[ans] E[berhard] Mayer, R[aymond] C[harles] Smail (Jerusalem: Izhak Ben-Zvi Institute, 1982), pp. 130-52, esp. 132 (“cattle market...called buflaria”). 195 PertoroneBufali, in 1166 mentioned as delimiting a property, RevisedRRHDatabase, no. 761 (Delaville le Roulx, Hospitaliers, I: 243f, no. 350; RRH, no. 426). 196 In 1145, Casale...deBufles, RevisedRRHDatabase,no. 454 (Bresc-Bautier, Saint-Sépulcre, p. 150f, no. 59; RRH, no. 237); in 1152, a Godardus de Bufles officiated as witness to a legal act, Revised, no. 523 (Delaville le Roulx, Hospitaliers, I: 155ff, no. 202; RRH, no. 274; cf. one Godardus de Buslus in 1150, Revised, no. 502 [Delaville le Roulx, Hospitaliers, I: 149f, no. 192; RRH, no. 257]). The other variants are casaleBubalorum in 1166 and 1213, Revised, nos. 765 (BrescBautier, Saint-Sépulcre, pp. 271f, no. 139; RRH, no. 425) and 1692 (Delaville le Roulx, Hospitaliers, II: 159, no. 1414; RRH, no. 866); casal[e] de Buflis in 1148, Revised, no. 489 (de Marsy, “Fragment d’un cartulaire de l’ordre de Saint-Lazare, en Terre Sainte”, Archivesdel’Orient latin 2 B [1884]: 121-57, esp. 125ff, no. 5; RRH, no. 252); casale de Bufalis in 1201, Revised, no. 1483 (Paoli, Codice, I: 288f, no. 9; RRH, no. 768). 197 The identification may have originated with Conder, who refers to a”Crusading account of the district round Bablûn (CastellumBubalorum), at the foot of Carmel”, Palestine Exploration Fund, Quarterly Statement for 1903, p. 99; cf. Conder and Kitchener, SWP II: 57, 69, and Map, Sheet 8, J k; an “artifical mound with surface pottery and press” is noted at “Abu Hamâd, Kh. (Bablun, Kh.)”, “Schedule of historical monuments and sites”, Supplement No. 2 to the Palestine Gazette Extraordinary, No. 1575 (24th November 1944), p. 1221, [Palestine Grid] 149.212; Denys Pringle and Peter E. Leach, ThechurchesoftheCrusaderKingdomofJerusalem, vols. I-IV (Cambridge UP 1993-2009), IV: 242a. Benvenisti terms the crusader derivation of the present name merely “possible” (“Bovaria”, p. 131, without refs.). 198 The best known Crusader knight with this by-name was Henricus Bubalus, a son of Guy de Milly; see Revised, nos. 545, 566, 567, 568, 643, 656, 659, 670, 706, 733, 744, 1065, 1258; Mayer, Urkunden, IV (Namenregister): 1645a-b, q. v.; Eracles [Recueil des historiens des croisades (RHC), Historiens occidentaux, II] (Paris:, 1859), p. 51:5 (cf. RRH, no. 309). Other bearers of the nickname were Balduinus Bubalus, a vicecomes of Nābulus, Revised, nos. 502 (here Baldoinuslo Bufles), 514, 621, 626; Johannes Bufle, Revised, no. 550; Boamundus Bubalus, Revised, no. 948. 193

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To conclude this brief sketch, a glance at maps of Palestine from the later 19th century, before the violent changes of the following period, reveals the well-nigh ubiquitous presence of the water-buffalo, jāmūs, in traditional nomenclature. “Buffalo stream” (wādīl-jāmūs) was recorded in several places,199 as was a “buffalo pool” a short distance ESE from al-Ramla.200

LUTZ RICHTER-BERNBURG Tübingen

199 SWP, Sheets 5 Ki, 6 Qg, 11 Km, 16 Hs, cf. Index, p. 154a, s. v. W. el Jamus; also see Guérin, Description, II: 226, in the vicinity of Ta‛annuk, valley of Jezreel. 200 SWP, Sheet 13 Ir; cf. Beyer, “Caesarea”, pp. 21, 30, 34. Looking further afield, archeologists have found buffalo bones along with those of other domestic animals along the middle Euphrates; see Andrew Watson, review of: Sophie Berthier, Peuplementruraletaménagements hydro-agricolesdanslamoyennevalléedel’Euphrate,fineVIIe–XIXesiècle (Damas: IFÉA, 2001), JESHO 46,4 (2003), pp. 543-46.

THE DISCOURSE OF PLACE IN AYYŪBID AND MAMLŪK SYRIA: A POLITICS OF SCALE

Syrian Muslim intellectuals writing in Arabic in the sixth/twelfth century joined a “discourse of place” that had been thriving in the Islamic world for at least three hundred years. I have defined the “discourse of place” elsewhere as a conceptual framework that brings together a wide variety of texts committed either wholly or in large part to the representation of places.1 This is intended to prompt readings across genre, purposefully juxtaposing works that have traditionally been classified separately as world geographies, literary anthologies, urban topographies, and religious treatises to illuminate their intertextuality and similar strategies of representation. The discourse of place in and about Syria reached maturity in the second half of the sixth/twelfth century with the monumental Ta᾿rīkh Madīnat Dimashq (History of the City of Damascus) by Abū l-Qāsim ῾Alī ibn ῾Asākir (d. 571/1176). From this point, representations of the cities of Damascus, Jerusalem, and later Aleppo proliferated. These city-centric representations were joined by representations of Syria as a coherent region in the late seventh/thirteenth century, exemplified by ῾Izz al-Dīn ibn Shaddād’s al-A῾lāqal-KhaṭīrafīDhikrUmarā᾿al-Shām wa-l-Jazīra (Treasure Trove on the Subject of the Princes of Syria and Upper Mesopotamia). In the first half of the eighth/fourteenth century, however, Ibn Faḍl Allāh al-῾Umarī’s Masālikal-AbṣārfīMamālikal-Amṣār (Routes of Insights into the Realms of Metropoles) proposed the idea of a super-region made up of the combined territories of Egypt, Syria, and the Ḥijāz. Thus, the transformations in the discourse of place in this period can be described as scalar — moving from city to region to super-region. These shifts in discourse paralleled the political and ideological history of the period. In fact, the concept of place was an ideal vehicle through which to lodge political and ideological claims out of a theoretically universal body of knowledge without abandoning aspirations to or assumptions of such universality. One of the best strategies for accomplishing this was through what I will call, drawing from the field of political geography, a “politics of scale”. Different scales were useful for making different kinds of claims, and the discourse of place as it had evolved from the third/ninth to the sixth/twelfth centuries offered ample material that could be deployed at different scales to different effects.

1 See Zayde Antrim, Routes and Realms: The Power of Place in the Early Islamic World (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012).

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Before giving some examples of the politics of scale, it is first important to establish the issue of toponymy. Al-Shām, which I translate as “Syria”, shorthand for “Greater Syria”, was the toponym most often used to invoke a regional scale in this literature. In contrast to modern usage, the toponym al-Shām was only rarely a synonym for Damascus, and in fact it was often used in clear contradistinction to the toponym Dimashq or to other words for cities in the discourse of place. Frequent references to the borders of al-Shām made its regional scale clear, whether the gloss “minal-῾Arīshilāl-Furāt” (from al-῾Arīsh to the Euphrates) for the Qur᾿ānic “land that God blessed”, which is often equated with al-Shām, or more detailed descriptions, such as this one from Ibn Shaddād: “[Syria’s] southern border is al-῾Arīsh, in the direction of Egypt; its northern border is the territory of the Byzantines; its eastern border is the desert from Eilat to the Euphrates; and its western border is the Mediterranean Sea”.2 Other works indicate the regional scale of al-Shām by enumerating its constituent cities, as in the title of this anonymous treatise from the seventh/thirteenthcentury: Faḍā᾿ilal-Shāmwa-Faḍā᾿ilMudunihiwa-Baytal-Maqdiswa-῾Asqalān wa-Ghazzawa-l-Ramlawa-Arīḥāwa-Nābuluswa-Baysānwa-Dimashqwa-Ḥimṣ… (The Merits of Syria and the Merits of its Cities Including Jerusalem, Ascalon, Gaza, al-Ramla, Jericho, Nablus, Baysān, Damascus, and Homs…).3 The encyclopaedist Yāqūt (d. 626/1229), in characteristically thorough fashion, combines a description of the borders of al-Shām with an enumeration of its cities: As for its borders, they are from the Euphrates to al-῾Arīsh, adjacent to the Egyptian lands, and as for its breadth, it is from the Ṭayyi᾿ mountains in the direction of the qibla to the Mediterranean and what is north of that in the way of countries, and it has such major cities as Manbij, Aleppo, Ḥamā, Homs, Damascus, Jerusalem, and al-Ma῾arra, and on the coast Antioch, Tripoli, Acre, Tyre, Ascalon, and others…4

These quotes and many others like them establish the general rule that the toponym al-Shām was used intentionally to evoke a scale that is substantially larger than that of a single city, even a city and its hinterland, in the discourse of place between the sixth/twelfth and eighth/fourteenth centuries. In what follows, I argue that the scales of city and region were useful in staking different kinds of political and ideological claims and that shifting attention from one scale to the other was a strategy for innovating, or for inserting an agenda into an otherwise conventional undertaking related to the centuries-old 2 ῾Izz al-Dīn ibn Shaddād, al-A῾lāqal-KhaṭīrafīDhikrUmarā᾿al-Shāmwa-l-Jazīra, vol. 1/ pt. 1, ed. Dominique Sourdel (Damascus: Institut Français de Damas, 1953), p. 8. 3 Ms. Tübingen M.a. VI. 26, fol. 97b-122 (copied 741/1340-1341). See also Isaac Hasson, “The Muslim View of Jerusalem: The Qur᾿ān and Ḥadīth”, in TheHistoryofJerusalem:The EarlyMuslimPeriod638-1099, ed. Joshua Prawer and Haggai Ben-Shammai (New York: New York University Press, 1996), pp. 349-385, esp. p. 372. 4 Yāqūt al-Rūmī, Mu῾jamal-Buldān, volumes I-VII (Beirut: Dār Ṣādir, 1995), III: 312.

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discourse of place. I will give three examples of this politics of scale — particularly stressing the political and ideological reasons for the scalar shift toward the region and super-region in this period — before concluding with a general call to think further about scale as a representational strategy in the discourse of place. 1. THE

REGIONAL SCALE WAS A WAY OF AVOIDING OR DISTRACTING ATTENTION

FROM JERUSALEM BUT STILL TAPPING INTO ISLAMIC SACRED HISTORY TO CELEBRATE OR PUSH FOR THE DEFENSE OF

SYRIA.

Arabic literature in praise of Jerusalem has received a lot of scholarly attention over the last two decades, and there is no doubt that while the sacred merits (faḍā᾿il) of Jerusalem were well-established among Muslims prior to the Crusades, the reconquest of Jerusalem by Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn al-Ayyūbī in 583/1187 gave a new burst of energy to this form of literature.5 However, my focus here is on two major examples of the regional scale being used to distract attention from Jerusalem or to project Jerusalem’s merits onto al-Shām as a whole. The first is the introduction to Ibn ῾Asākir’s Ta᾿rīkhMadīnatDimashq, which, as I have argued elsewhere, is startlingly silent on the topic of Jerusalem outside of an apocalyptic context.6 Instead, it uses the regional scale as a way of accumulating traditions that emphasise the early Islamic period and as a way of avoiding the kind of legendary and para-Biblical material used in the earlier discourse of place to praise Syria as the “land of the prophets” (arḍal-anbiyā᾿) by highlighting its cities, most notably Jerusalem, and its destinations for pious visitation (ziyāra). By contrast, in his representation of the city of Damascus Ibn ῾Asākir indulges in a wider variety of sources, including legendary, local, and partisan traditions, and assembles a ritual topography that juxtaposes shrines to pre-Islamic figures in the Ghūṭa with the Islamic built environment of the city, including 14 mosques, 3 madrasas, 2 canals, 2 baths, and 2 gates all endowed, renovated, or expanded at the behest of his Zangid patron Nūr al-Dīn.7 Avoiding Jerusalem by using the regional scale may have reflected his reluctance to 5 See, for examples, Hasson, “The Muslim View”; Suleiman A. Mourad, “The Symbolism of Jerusalem in Early Islam”, in Jerusalem:IdeaandReality, ed. Tamar Mayer and Suleiman A. Mourad (New York: Routledge, 2008), pp. 86-102; and Carole Hillenbrand, TheCrusades: IslamicPerspectives (New York: Routledge, 2000), esp. chapter 4. 6 See Zayde Antrim, “Ibn ῾Asakir’s Representations of Syria and Damascus in the Introduction to the Ta᾿rikhMadinatDimashq”, InternationalJournalofMiddleEastStudies 38/1 (2006): 109-129. 7 Abū l-Qāsim ῾Alī ibn ῾Asākir, Ta᾿rīkh Madīnat Dimashq, ed. Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn al-Munajjid, volumes I-II (Damascus: al-Majma῾ al-῾Ilmī al-῾Arabī, 1951-1954), II: 62, 63, 68, 70, 74, 76, 77, 78×2 (mosques inside walls); 81, 87, 90×2, 91 (mosques outside walls); 154, 155 (canals); 74 and 162, 162 (baths); 186×2 (gates); 74, 76, 77 (madrasas); and idem, LadescriptiondeDamas, ed. and trans. Nikita Elisséeff (Damascus: Institut Français de Damas, 1959), pp. 103, 104, 116, 120, 131, 136, 137, 138, 139 (mosques inside walls); 146-147, 160, 167×2, 168 (mosques outside walls); 258, 259 (canals); 130 and 278, 279 (baths); 299, 300 (gates); 131, 136, 137 (madrasas).

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use para-Biblical material that would seem inclusive of Christian claims to the land in the context of the Crusades; at the same time it allowed him to highlight his own hometown of Dimashq and the political headquarters of his patron as the center of al-Shām. Coming as it does at the beginning of the period under study, Ibn ῾Asākir’s work suggests both the usefulness of the regional scale for establishing an exclusively Islamic pedigree and the importance of the city, in this case Damascus, as a political symbol as well as a category of belonging. Over a century later, however, another participant in the discourse of place, Taqiyy al-Dīn ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328), rejected the scale of the city completely, both for written representation and for physical visitation, but allowed himself to celebrate place at a regional scale as a way of promoting a political agenda.8 Ibn Taymiyya’s general criticisms of ziyāra and his specific exhortations against certain ritual or devotional practices in Jerusalem and other sites in Syria have received plenty of scholarly attention.9 Moreover, as Niels Henrik Olesen has established, Ibn Taymiyya was reluctant to endow any place with permanent faḍā᾿il. According to Ibn Taymiyya, faḍā᾿il reside in people, not places, and at any given time the faḍā᾿il of a locality may only be expressed in terms of the faḍā᾿il of its inhabitants.10 Despite this reluctance to attribute merits directly and indefinitely to places, he seems to have made an exception for al-Shām. In an essay entitled “FaṣlThabatali-l-Shāmwa-AhlihiManāqibbi-lKitābwa-l-Sunnawa-Āthāral-῾Ulamā᾿” (On the Virtues Attached to Syria and its People in the Qu᾿rān, the Sunna, and Scholarly Traditions), Ibn Taymiyya starts by claiming that “blessings reside in [Syria]” (al-barakafīhi).11 This is a remarkably unqualified statement for Ibn Taymiyya to make, and he justifies it on the basis of an exegesis of five Qur᾿ānic verses (7:137, 17:1, 21:71, 21:81, 34:18), each of which contains some variation on the phrase “the land that [God] blessed” (al-arḍallatībāraknāfīhā).12 In doing this, he departs from his For more on Nūr al-Dīn’s architectural patronage, see Nikita Elisséeff, “Les monuments de Nūr ad-Dīn”, Bulletind’EtudesOrientales 13 (1949-1950): 5-43. 8 For more on this, see Zayde Antrim, “The Politics of Place in the Works of Ibn Taymīyah and Ibn Faḍl Allāh al-῾Umarī”, MamlūkStudiesReview 18 (2014-2015): 91-111. 9 See for examples, C. D. Matthews, “A Muslim Iconoclast (Ibn Taymiyyeh) on the ‘Merits’ of Jerusalem and Palestine”, JournaloftheAmericanOrientalSociety 56/1 (1936): 1-21; Muḥammad ῾Umar Memon, ed. and trans., Ibn Taymiya’s Struggle against Popular Tradition (The Hague: Mouton, 1976); Christopher S. Taylor, IntheVicinityoftheRighteous (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1999), pp. 168-218; and Josef Meri, The Cult of Saints among Muslims and Jews in Medieval Syria (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), pp. 125-140. 10 Niels Henrik Olesen, CultedessaintsetpèlerinageschezIbnTaymiyya (Paris: Paul Geuthner, 1991), pp. 206-208. 11 Taqiyy al-Dīn ibn Taymiyya, Majmū῾ Fatāwā Shaykh al-Islām Aḥmad ibn Taymiyya, ed. ῾Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Muḥammad ibn Qāsim al-῾Āṣimī al-Najdī al-Ḥanbalī and Muḥammad ibn ῾Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Muḥammad al-῾Āṣimī al-Najdī al-Ḥanbalī, volumes I-XXXVII (Riyadh, [19611966]), XXVII: 505. 12 Ibid., XXVII: 505-506. See also the essay entitled “Mas᾿ala: Hal Tufaddalu al-Iqāma fī l-Shām῾alaGhayrihiminal-Bilād?” in ibid., 27: 41.

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usual stance on faḍā᾿il and uses the regional scale to justify reproducing material already well-known in the discourse of place (and, ironically, often used to encourage ziyāra) to promote a pressing political agenda. The key to this agenda can be found at the opening of this essay where he states outright that “these [virtues] are among the things I depend on in my inciting the Muslims to fight the Mongols and commanding them to stay in Damascus and prohibiting them from fleeing to Egypt and calling upon the Egyptian army to come to Syria and to strengthen Syrians in this”.13 Written in the wake of the Mongol invasion of 699/1299, this statement suggests that Ibn Taymiyya was willing to risk a little inconsistency for the greater cause of motivating the defense of Syria. He may have found the regional scale more palatable for this purpose because it could be distanced from practices of ziyāra, which were usually site-specific (a mosque, shrine, cemetery, or cave) or associated with particular cities, like Jerusalem, rather than regions. Although he does mention Jerusalem in the essay, it is one among many examples of the blessings conferred upon Syria as a whole, blessings that made it particularly worthy of protection in an era of insecurity. 2. THE REGIONAL (OR SUB-REGIONAL) SCALE WAS A WAY OF TAPPING INTO ISLAMIC SACRED HISTORY FOR A CITY THAT DOES NOT APPEAR IN THE SCRIPTURAL RECORD. One of the most unusual uses of a regional scale in the Syrian discourse of place is that invoked by Kamāl al-Dīn ibn al-῾Adīm (d. 660/1262) in his Bughyat al-ṬalabfīTa᾿rīkhḤalab (Everything Desirable about the History of Aleppo).14 The introduction to this multi-volume biographical dictionary bears structural similarities with and reproduces material from the introduction to Ibn ῾Asākir’s Ta᾿rikhMadīnatDimashq, its century-old predecessor. However, just as Aleppo merits little mention in Ibn ῾Asākir’s introduction, Damascus merits little mention in the corresponding volume of Ibn al-῾Adīm’s work. In fact, with the exception of one chapter in the middle of the volume giving a much abridged summary of Ibn ῾Asākir’s faḍā᾿il treatment for al-Shām, the notion of Aleppo as part of a broader region that includes Damascus hovers only on the edges of 13 Ibid., XXVII: 505. Although this essay is not dated, it seems clear that it was composed at some point after the Ilkhān Ghāzān’s first invasion of Syria in 699/1299. Olesen argues in general that few of Ibn Taymiyya’s writings regarding the faḍā᾿il can be dated with precision, but that they display considerable consistency and it is likely their numbers increased toward the end of his life; see Olesen, Culte des saints, 11. For a recent discussion of his attitude toward the Mongol invasions and those of his writings that directly address them, see Denise Aigle, “The Mongol Invasions of Bilād al-Shām by Ghāzān Khān and Ibn Taymīyah’s Three ‘Anti-Mongol’ Fatwas”, MamlūkStudiesReview 11/2 (2007): 89-120. 14 For more on this, see Zayde Antrim, “Becoming Syrian: Aleppo in Ibn al-῾Adīm’s Bughyat al-ṬalabfīTa᾿rīkhḤalab”, in GroundedIdentities:TerritoryandBelongingintheMedieval andEarlyModernMediterraneanandMesopotamia, ed. Steve Tamari (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming).

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the Bughyatal-Ṭalab.15 At the same time, Ibn al-῾Adīm’s introductory representation was not conceived at the scale of the city or even at the scale of a city plus its hinterland, as was frequently the case in the discourse of place.16 Rather, what concerned Ibn al-῾Adīm was, to use David Morray’s term, a wide “catchment area” surrounding Aleppo to which the subjects of his biographical entries and the prestige of his hometown could be tied.17 This “catchment area”, it is implied in several places in the introduction, was part of the region of al-Shām, but was clearly being singled out as an identifiable sub-region with its own distinctive merits. The town-by-town, fortress-by-fortress, river-by-river, and mountain-by-mountain inventory that dominates the introduction to the Bughyatal-Ṭalab indicates that this sub-region not only extended beyond Aleppo’s immediate hinterland, but also extended beyond the control of the Ayyūbid principality of Aleppo. Many of the towns Ibn al-῾Adīm describes lay, during his lifetime, in the hands of foreign powers or, in the case of Ḥamā for instance, in the hands of other Ayyūbid princes. In fact, the combined sections on Qinnasrīn, a city that had fallen into ruins by the fourth/tenth century, and on Antioch, the seat of a Crusader principality until 666/1268, exceed in length the sections on the city of Aleppo itself.18 What prompted this unusual scale? Even though Ibn al-῾Adīm draws from much of the same Ḥadīth material used in faḍā᾿il treatises on Syria and Syrian cities up to his time, it is striking that the toponym for Aleppo (Ḥalab), does not occur in any of the traditions he includes. This absence may explain Ibn al-῾Adīm’s decision to celebrate Aleppo through the representation of a wider “catchment area”, since available Ḥadīth material could only be associated with Aleppo in terms of nearby towns that had been more prominent in the early Islamic period, such as Dābiq, Qinnasrīn, and Antioch. The associations between the sacred past and the region of al-Shām, especially as laid out by Ibn ῾Asākir, were too powerful to ignore completely, but Ibn al-῾Adīm deploys 15 Kamāl al-Dīn ibn al-῾Adīm, Bughyatal-ṬalabfīTa᾿rīkhḤalab, ed. Suhayl Zakkār, volumes IXII (Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, n.d.), I: 335-345. 16 For instance, faḍā᾿il literature on Jerusalem usually addressed an area encircling Jerusalem along a relatively short radius and rarely presented material specific to other towns, with the occasional exceptions of Hebron and Bethlehem. Similarly, faḍā᾿il literature on Damascus usually covered the walled city, the suburbs, and the surrounding oasis, consisting of the Ghūṭa and Mount Qāsiyyūn. Though faḍā᾿il treatises on both Jerusalem and Damascus often included sections dealing with al-Shām, they rarely engaged with plots of land at an intermediate scale, and when they did it was only in the form of brief mentions of toponyms, such as al-Sāḥil for the Mediterranean coast. See, for examples, Abū l-Ma῾ālī al-Musharraf ibn al-Murajjā al-Maqdisī, Faḍā᾿ilBaytal-Maqdiswa-l-Khalīlwa-Faḍā᾿ilal-Shām, ed. Ofer Livne-Kafri (Shafā ῾Amr: Dār al-Mashriq li-l-Tarjama wa-l-Ṭibā῾a wa-l-Nashr, 1995); and ῾Alī ibn Muḥammad al-Raba῾ī, Faḍā᾿il al-Shām wa-Dimashq, ed. Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn al-Munajjid (Damascus: Maṭba῾at al-Turqī, 1950). 17 David Morray, AnAyyubidNotableandhisWorld:Ibnal-῾AdīmandAleppoasPortrayed inhisBiographicalDictionaryofPeopleAssociatedwiththeCity (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994), p. 6. 18 Ibn al-῾Adīm, Bughyatal-Ṭalab, I: 39-68 (on Aleppo); 69-104 (on Qinnasrīn and Antioch).

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them selectively so as to distract attention from Damascus and keep the focus on his hometown of Aleppo, seat of one of the most stable and prosperous Ayyūbid principalities, and its northern Syrian surroundings. Ruled by a direct succession of three Ayyūbid princes in a seventy year period, Aleppo enjoyed continuities of policy and patronage virtually unknown in the rest of Syria at the time.19 Given the decentralized politics of the Ayyūbid confederation, it made sense to represent Aleppo at a scale that conveyed both a greater sense of regional belonging and a northern Syrian particularism. 3. THE

REGIONAL OR SUPERREGIONAL SCALES WERE USED TO CELEBRATE THE

UNIFICATION MADE POSSIBLE BY A POWERFUL REGIME, BUT THE SCALE OF THE CITY REMAINED USEFUL AS A WAY OF PROVIDING CONCRETE EVIDENCE OF THE REGIME’S BENEFICENCE, EFFICACY, OR LEGITIMACY.

The multi-volume historical topography, al-A῾lāqal-KhaṭīrafiDhikrUmarā᾿ al-Shāmwa-l-Jazīra, composed by the Aleppan scholar ῾Izz al-Dīn ibn Shaddād (d. 684/1285), marked a major shift in the discourse of place by representing the region of Syria through topographies of both of its major cities, Damascus and Aleppo, not as rivals, but as complementary urban nodes.20 In fact, Ibn Shaddād was one of the first authors in the discourse of place to use the terms bilād al-Shām and al-bilād al-shāmiyya, as well as the simple toponym al-Shām, regularly, underscoring his preoccupation with the regional scale. Furthermore, by organizing the work in terms of the region’s six traditional subdivisions or “districts” (jund, pl. ajnād — Aleppo, Homs, Damascus, Palestine, Jordan, and al-῾Awāṣim wa-l-Thughūr) and then inventorying towns, villages, citadels, and shrines for each, his approach is different from those of Ibn ῾Asākir, Ibn al-῾Adīm, and Ibn Taymiyya, whose politics of scale depended on a relatively vague delineation of the boundaries and contents of al-Shām.21 This organisation allows Ibn 19 For more on this period in Aleppan history, see Morray, An Ayyubid Notable; Yasser Tabbaa, Constructions of Power and Piety in Medieval Aleppo (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1997); and Anne-Marie Eddé, Laprincipautéayyoubided’Alep(579/1183658/1260) (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1999). 20 For more on this, see Zayde Antrim, “Making Syria Mamluk: Ibn Shaddād’s al-A῾lāq al-Khaṭīrah”, MamlūkStudiesReview 11/1 (2007): 1-18. 21 For two different views on the origins of the ajnād, see Irfan Shahid, “The Jund System in Bilād al-Shām: Its Origin”, in Bilādal-Shāmfīl-῾Ahdal-Bīzanṭī, vol. 2, ed. Muḥammad ῾Adnān al-Bakhīt and Muḥammad ῾Aṣfūr (Amman: University of Jordan/Yarmouk University, 1986), pp. 4552; and John Haldon, “Seventh-Century Continuities: the Ajnād and the ‘Thematic Myth’”, in TheByzantineandEarlyIslamicNearEast, vol. 3, States,ResourcesandArmies, ed. Averil Cameron (Princeton: The Darwin Press, 1995), pp. 379-423. No manuscripts survive of Ibn Shaddād’s chapter on the jund of Homs, and it may never have been completed, but mention of it occurs in the table of contents supplied at the beginning of the volume on northern Syria. See ῾Izz al-Dīn Ibn Shaddād, al-A῾lāqal-KhaṭīrafīDhikrUmarā᾿al-Shāmwa-l-Jazīra, vol. 3/pt. 2, ed. Yaḥyā Zakariyyā ῾Abbāra (Damascus: Manshūrāt Wizārat al-Thaqāfa, 1978), p. 7; and idem, DescriptiondelaSyrieduNord, trans. Anne-Marie Eddé-Terrasse (Damascus: Institut Français de Damas, 1984), p. 1.

40

Z. ANTRIM

Shaddād to balance his lengthy descriptions of Aleppo and Damascus with systematic attention to the “in-between” spaces that make a region coherent. This scalar strategy was enabled by, and should be seen as a celebration of, the military victory of the Mamlūk Sultan Baybars (r. 658/1260-676/1277) over the Mongols at ῾Ayn Jālūt and his subsequent efforts to consolidate administrative control over Syria and to rehabilitate its sacred landscape.22 Though Ibn Shaddād was from Aleppo and had Ibn al-῾Adīm’s recent work from which to draw in bringing developments in northern Syria up through 674/1275, his treatment of southern Syria reflects an even more recent perspective, due to the fact that Ibn Shaddād was active in Baybars’ retinue in this area through 678/ 1279, and highlights the attention the Sultan lavished in particular on the ajnād of Palestine and Jordan.23 In addition, Ibn Shaddād’s topographies of the cities of Aleppo and Damascus each include examples of renovations or building projects sponsored by Baybars, though in these cities the Ayyūbids are represented even more prominently as patrons of the built environment and urban religious life. Indeed, the combined monumental and infrastructural projects of the Ayyūbids emerge from this work as a necessary first step towards the rehabilitation and unification of the region of al-Shām completed by Baybars. In dedicating the work to Baybars as “Master of the Egyptian lands and the Syrian realms and the Mesopotamian countries, Guardian of the two Noble Sanctuaries” (Ṣāḥibal-Diyāral-Miṣriyyawa-l-Mamālikal-Shāmiyyawa-l-Bilādal-Jazariyya, Khādimal-Ḥaramaynal-Sharīfayn), Ibn Shaddād displays his awareness of and support for Syria’s membership in a broader confederation ruled from Cairo, but his focus in the work is on representing al-Shām alone, the region in which he lived and about which he might report on the basis of his own activities, recent memory, and the well-established sources used by his predecessors in the discourse of place.24 A half century later, another Syrian-born servant of the Mamlūk Sultanate, Ibn Faḍl Allāh al-῾Umarī (d. 749/1349), performed another major scalar shift in the discourse of place — this time from region to super-region.25 Like Ibn Shaddād, he dedicates his Masālikal-AbṣārfīMamālikal-Amṣār, a voluminous work combining geography, biography, and history, to a Mamlūk Sultan, al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ibn Qalāwūn (r. 709/1310-741/1341), whom he lauds with a litany of titles, including “King of the Two Seas, Guardian of the Two Sanctuaries, 22 On this see, Yehoshu῾a Frenkel, “Baybars and the Sacred Geography of Bilādal-Shām: A Chapter in the Islamization of Syria”, JerusalemStudiesinArabicandIslam 25 (2001): 153-170. 23 For one example, see ῾Izz al-Dīn Ibn Shaddad, al-A῾lāqal-KhaṭīrafīDhikrUmarā᾿al-Shām wa-l-Jazīra:Ta᾿rīkhLubnānwa-l-Urdunnwa-Filasṭīn, ed. Sāmī al-Dahhān (Damascus: Institut Français de Damas, 1963), p. 237. 24 For the dedication, see ῾Izz al-Dīn ibn Shaddād, al-A῾lāq al-Khaṭīra fī Dhikr Umarā᾿ al-Shāmwa-l-Jazīra, vol. 1/pt. 1, ed. Dominique Sourdel (Damascus: Institut Français de Damas, 1953), p. 1. 25 For more on this, see Antrim, “The Politics of Place”.

THE DISCOURSE OF PLACE IN AYYŪBID AND MAMLŪK SYRIA

41

Protector of the Two Qiblas” (Malikal-Baḥrayn,Khādimal-Ḥaramayn,Ḥāmī al-Qiblatayn).26 These titles explicitly construct his sovereignty in terms of geography, both its great extent (encompassing the “Two Seas”, the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean) and its sacred sites (Mecca and Medina as the “Two Sanctuaries”, and Mecca and Jerusalem as the “Two Qiblas”). Moreover, framing the first part of his work (books 1-4 out of 27) as a world geography, but in fact dedicating the majority of his geographical description to the “realms of Islam” and, even more specifically, to those lands under Mamlūk rule, he emphasises the importance of the Mamlūk Sultanate as the center of the realms of Islam, which are themselves the center of the world.27 He opens his section on Egypt, Syria, and the Ḥijāz (book 3, chapter 6) by defining these lands as “a single realm” (mamlakawāḥida).28 He continues: “It is a large, prosperous realm, and its seat of government is the Citadel of the Mountain [in Cairo] and then Damascus”.29 In so doing, he completes the discursive arc that begins with the rivalry between Aleppo and Damascus that can be inferred from the politics of scale in Ibn al-῾Adīm’s work, to the unification of Aleppo and Damascus as complementary urban nodes at the regional scale of al-Shām in Ibn Shaddād’s work, to the unification of Cairo and Damascus as first and second cities of a super-region coterminous with the extent of Mamlūk power in the Masālikal-Abṣār. One of al-῾Umarī’s scalar strategies was to include apt quotations from another Syrian-born bureaucrat who spent most of his career serving a ruler in Cairo, al-Qāḍī al-Fāḍil (d. 596/1199), the senior chancery official under Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn over a century earlier.30 These quotes are not only consistent with al῾Umarī’s interest in administrative matters more generally, but are also effective in evoking a parallel between the joint administration of Egyptian and Syrian lands past and present. Another scalar strategy was to combine an appreciation of the holy sites in Egypt, Syria, and the Ḥijāz, as in this introductory statement: 26 See Ibn Faḍl Allāh al-῾Umarī, Masālikal-AbṣārfīMamālikal-Amṣār, 27 vols., ed. ῾Abd Allāh b. Yaḥyā al-Sarīḥī (Abu Dhabi: al-Majma῾ al-Thaqāfī, 2003), 1: 32-33. 27 He divides the work into two parts, the first (books 1-4) on “the earth and what it comprises” and the second (books 5-27) on “the inhabitants of the earth”. For a complete list of contents, see the volume of indices published as Ibn Faḍl Allāh al-῾Umarī, Masālikal-Abṣārfī Mamālik al-Amṣār, vol. 28, ed. Fuat Sezgin (Frankfurt am Main: Institüt für Geschichte der Arabisch-Islamischen Wissenschaften, 2001). 28 Ibn Faḍl Allāh al-῾Umarī, Masālik al-Abṣār fī Mamālik al-Amṣār: Mamālik Miṣr wa-lShāmwa-l-Ḥijāzwa-l-Yaman, ed. Ayman Fu᾿ād Sayyid (Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 1985), p. 11. 29 Ibid. 30 Indeed, his biographers tend to compare him to al-Qāḍī al-Fāḍil. See Khalīl ibn Aybak al-Ṣafadī, Kitābal-Wāfībi-l-Wafayāt, ed. Aḥmad al-Arnā᾿ūṭ and Turkī Muṣṭafā, volumes I-XXIX (Beirut: Dār Iḥyā᾿ li-l-Turāth al-῾Arabī, 2000), VIII: 163; and Muḥammad ibn Shākir al-Kutubī, Fawātal-Wafayāt, ed. Iḥsān ῾Abbās, volumes I-V (Beirut: Dār al-Thaqāfa, 1973), I: 158.

42

Z. ANTRIM

[This realm] is among the most sublime of the realms because of what it encompasses in the way of revered districts, such as the holy land (al-arḍal-muqaddasa), and the mosques on the strength of which was established the [ḥadīth of] the three mosques to which alone you may saddle up your riding beasts, and the tombs of prophets, may God bless them, and Mount Sinai, and the Nile and the Euphrates, which are both [rivers] of paradise.31

This brief sacred geography serves to emphasise the great extent of the realm as well as its shared sources of sanctity. By mentioning the Euphrates, al-῾Umarī is not only gesturing to its recurrence as an eastern boundary in the corpus of representations of Syria in the discourse of place up to his time, but also suggesting its parallelism with the Nile, two rivers of symbolic and practical importance that together, like Cairo and Damascus, structure, and bring distinction to, the new Mamlūk super-region. Nonetheless, it is to Jerusalem in particular that al-῾Umarī assigns the majority of the realm’s religious virtues in terms both familiar from the faḍā᾿il literature that had proliferated in the discourse of place up to that point and specific to his political context, such as the many notable endowments, building projects and infrastructural renovations ordered or financed by the Mamlūk elite.32 This kind of investment suggests the symbolic and economic importance of Jerusalem as a destination for ziyāra to the realm as a whole. Moreover, he stresses its attractions for pilgrims, including Christians and Jews, coming from all “the corners of the earth and the limits of the sea”.33 This reinforces an image of the centrality of the Mamlūk Sultanate in the “realms of Islam”, as well as in the inhabited world more broadly, and downplays the close association of Jerusalem with the region of Syria in the discourse of place up to that point.34 Al-῾Umarī’s politics of scale, therefore, stress a Mamlūk superregion within which the region of al-Shām was subsumed and its particularism muted.

31

al-῾Umarī, Masālikal-Abṣār, ed. Sayyid, p. 11. This also applies to the first section of the work as a whole, in which he lays out the divisions of the world and describes their contents, including prominent mosques and other loci of devotion, though Damascus comes in a close second. See al-῾Umarī, Masālik al-Abṣār, ed. al-Sarīḥī, 1:130-166 (on the Ka῾ba and holy sites around Mecca), 167-179 (on the Prophet’s Mosque and holy sites around Medina), 180-230 (on al-Masjid al-Aqṣā and holy sites around Jerusalem), 231-271 (on the Umayyad Mosque and holy sites around Damascus), 271-274 (on the mosque of Cordoba). 33 al-῾Umarī, Masālikal-Abṣār, ed. Sayyid, p. 64. For more on the pilgrimage to Jerusalem in this period, see Amikam Elad, MedievalJerusalemandIslamicWorship (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1999). 34 Part of the emphasis on Jerusalem as the major source of Mamlūk prestige may also have been the fact that the holy cities of the Ḥijāz, Mecca and Medina, were not as fully under Mamlūk control as the regime, or al-῾Umarī, would have wished; see al-῾Umarī, Masālik al-Abṣār, ed. Sayyid, p. 65. 32

THE DISCOURSE OF PLACE IN AYYŪBID AND MAMLŪK SYRIA

43

CONCLUSION Thinking about scale as a representational strategy sheds light on the ways in which authors worked within the bounds of the conventional sources and methods dominant in the discourse of place to say something new. In this paper, I argue that the regional and superregional scales allowed particular flexibility in communicating activist political or ideological agendas. Nonetheless, the scale of the city was never fully supplanted, and, indeed, it had its own uses and was often combined with representations of the region. The overall trajectory, however, toward the regional and superregional scales in this period reflected the real effects of political unification and stability made possible by certain Ayyūbid and Mamlūk leaders — an optimism or confidence among Syrian intellectuals who started to see themselves as part of something bigger, perhaps even, as Dorothea Krawulsky has argued, a revived Dāral-Islām.35 ZAYDE ANTRIM Trinity College (Hartford, CT, USA)

35 Ibn Faḍl Allāh al-῾Umarī, Masālik al-Abṣār fī Mamālik al-Amṣār: Dawlat al-Mamālīk al-Ūlā, ed. Dorothea Krawulsky (Beirut: al-Markaz al-Islāmī li-l-Buḥūth, 1986), p. 31.

CONSTANTINOPLE CHEZ ABŪ L-MAKĀRIM (M. AP. 1209) I. INTRODUCTION Au sein de la littérature arabe chrétienne d’époque ayyoubide, le ta’rīkhd’Abū l-Makārim occupe une place singulière. L’ouvrage a été édité partiellement sous le titre de TheChurchesandmonasteriesofEgyptpar Butler et Evetts1 en 1895 sur le manuscrit partiel conservé à Paris (Bnf, Arabe 307). Quasi un siècle plus tard, le manuscrit du dernier quart de l’ouvrage est acquis en 1978, par la BayerisheStaatsbibliothek. Ce manuscrit du 13e siècle, de provenance égyptienne, est aujourd’hui conservé à Munich sous la cote cod. Arabe 2570. Rapidement, grâce notamment aux travaux d’Ugo Zanetti2 et de Johannes Den Heijer3, le rapprochement entre les deux œuvres a été réalisé et l’attribution de tout l’ouvrage à Abū l-Makārim fermement établie, quoique sa composition reste encore difficile à comprendre. Ses parties se succédant sans guère de transition, la chronologie des informations recueillies étant variable, on a l’impression d’avoir affaire à une compilation d’informations glanées au cours de lectures plus qu’à une synthèse mûrement réfléchie et organisée. Entre-temps, en 1984 est parue en Egypte une édition complète de l’ouvrage due au père Samuel al-Suryānī 4, mais qui d’un point de vue philologique est à revoir. Il apparaît ainsi que le Ta’rīkhd’Abū l-Makārim n’est pas une chronique mais plutôt une topographie historique qui mentionne les lieux en Egypte, en Méditerranée et en Inde où le christianisme s’est implanté. D’ailleurs, depuis la publication du père Samuel des études particulières concernant le mont Sinaï5, Alexandrie6,

1 B. T. A. Evetts, ThechurchesandmonasteriesofEgyptandsomeneighbouringcountries attributedtoAbûṢâliḥ,theArmenian(Oxford, 1895). 2 U. Zanetti, “Abū l-Makārim et Abū Ṣāliḥ”, Bulletin de la société d’archéologie copte 34 (1985): 85-138. 3 J. Den Heijer, “The composition of the History of the Churches and Monasteries in Egypt — some preliminary remarks”, in D. Johnson (éd.), Acts of the Fifth International CongressoftheCopticStudies,Washington12-15August1992, vol. 2, Part 1 (Roma, 1993), pp. 209-219. 4 Ṣamū’īl, Ta’rīkhAbūl-Makārim, s.l., s.d., 4 volumes. 5 J. M. Mouton et A. Popescu-Belis, “Une description du monastère Sainte-Catherine du Sinaï au XIIe siècle: le manuscrit d’Abū l-Makārim”, Arabica53/1 (2006): 1-53. 6 M. Martin, “Le Delta chrétien à la fin du XIIe s.”, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 63 (1997): 181-199 et “Alexandrie chrétienne à la fin du XIIe siècle d’après Abū l-Makārim”, in E. Dècobert (éd.),Alexandriemédiévale(Le Caire, 1998), pp. 45-49; N. Y. Youhanna Nessim, “Melkites in Egypt according to Abū l-Makārim”, Parole de l’Orient 34 (2009): 251-279 et “A contribution to the episcopal list of the Coptic Church”, Paroledel’Orient37 (2012): 1-28.

46

J.-C. DUCÈNE

Edesse7 ou encore Antioche8 ont été publiées. Il en ressort que l’auteur a réalisé un ouvrage de compilation mais en ayant à sa disposition des sources d’époques diverses et de valeur historique hétérogène, le récit historique côtoie ainsi la légende et l’hagiographie. Maurice Martin9 a attiré l’attention sur le fait que la majorité des événements auxquels l’auteur est contemporain se situe entre 1160 et 1190, mais que quelques notes, dont celle où l’auteur se dit contemporain de l’occupation latine de Constantinople sont datées des années 1204-1209, ces derniers éléments seraient pour Maurice Martin des ajouts ultérieurs à l’œuvre originale. Il est évidemment difficile de croire à une aussi longue activité dans le chef d’un même individu, mais dans l’attente d’une édition complète de l’ouvrage, il est impossible de résoudre unanimement le problème de la chronologie et des intervenants dans la rédaction de cet ouvrage. Dans cette contribution, nous nous sommes attaché à l’édition10 de la notice consacrée à Constantinople, à partir du manuscrit de Munich, ff. 171-180. Cette notice se situe entre celle d’Ephèse et celle de Rome.

7

K. Ciggaar and C. Ten Hacken, “The description of Edessa in Abu al-Makarim’s History of the Churches and Monasteries of Egypt and some Neighbouring Countries”, in K. Ciggaar and V. van Aalst (eds.), EastandWestintheMedievalEasternMediterraneanII.Antiochfrom the Byzantine Reconquest until the end of the Crusader Principality (Leuven: Peeters, 2013), pp. 201-218. 8 C. Ten Hacken, “The description of Antioch in Abū al-Makārim’s History of the churches and monasteries of Egypt and some neighbouring countries», in K. Ciggaar and D. Metcalf (dir.), EastandWestinthemedievaleasternmediterranean, vol. I: Antiochfrom theByzantinereconquestuntiltheendofthecrusaderprincipality(Leuven: Peeters, 2006), pp. 185-216. 9 M. Martin, “Alexandrie chrétienne à la fin du XIIe siècle d’après Abū l-Makārim”, in E. Dècobert (éd.), Alexandriemédiévale(Le Caire, 1998), p. 46, mais Ugo Zanetti est d’un avis contraire, U. Zanetti, “Abū l-Makārim et Abū Ṣāliḥ”, pp. 122-125. 10 Cette édition est aussi le résultat du séminaire que nous avons donné à l’Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, en 2015-2016, avec la participation de tous les auditeurs que nous voudrions remercier ici.

‫‪47‬‬

‫)‪CONSTANTINOPLE CHEZ ABŪ L-MAKĀRIM (M. AP. 1209‬‬

‫‪II. TEXTE ARABE11‬‬ ‫]‪ُ [١٧١‬‬ ‫القسطنطي َن ّية واسمها قبل ذلك َبوزن ََط ّية وانما ُعرفت بهذا الاسم لما ظهر بها‬

‫والروم وبنا َسور بوزنطيه هذه وسماها‬ ‫اليونانين‬ ‫تنصر من ملوك‬ ‫قسطنطين‪ 12‬الملك وهو ا ّول من ّ‬ ‫َ‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫قسطىطينية والسبب في ذلك انه خرج عليه من قاومه وبدأ ُيعانده‪ّ 13‬‬ ‫ففكر في نفسه اي‬ ‫ُ‬ ‫المذاهب انتصر به على المعايد لي ورفع وجهه الى السماء وهو مفكر في هذا اذا هو يرى‬ ‫في السماء في نصف النهار مثال الصليب وهو من نار موهجة فدهش لذلك المنظر‬

‫‪14‬‬

‫وهو‬

‫ُمتعجب ما هذه الاشارة التي ظهرت في السماء في نصف النهار ولما دنا الليل بات وهو مفكر‬ ‫ومتعجب فراى في تلك الليلة سيدنا يسوع المسيح في شكل نوراني مذهل وبيده اشارة‬ ‫الصليب تلمع كضيا الشمس عند اشراقها وهو يقول له بهذه الاشارة وهذا المثال تغلب اعداك‬ ‫فلما برزله مللك اراد ان ياخذ ملكه منه فخرج لملاقته واظهر علامه الصليب على اعلامه‬ ‫فانتصر بمعونه الله له وظفر بعدوه واكسر جيشه وعاد وهو مظفرا مسرور فامن بالمسيح وتنصر‬ ‫وخلص المعترفين بالمسيح من السجون ]‪١٧١‬ظ[ واهلك الله دقلاديانوس الكافر وملك مملكته‬ ‫الملك البا ّر قسطنطين واعمر البيع واهدم البرابي وبيوت الاصنام واقام منار دين المسيح وامنوا‬ ‫بعده ملوك الروم وعادوا يظهرون اشارة الصليب في حروبهم وينتصرون على اعدائهم وكان‬ ‫قسطنطين متزوج إبنة يوقليطينوس‪ 15‬وهو ا ّول من لعب بالشواهن والجوارح من الطيور المنسوبة‬ ‫منسا ملك‬ ‫لتعلم الصيد‪ .‬هذه المدينة بناها يورس الملك في السنة الثانية والثلاثين من ملك‬ ‫ّ‬

‫يهودا وخسف الله بها ومن بعد تسعمائة وسبعين سنة من بنيان يورس‪ 16‬هذه المدينة جدّ دها‬ ‫قسطنطين واحاط بها سور مانع وسميت باسمه واوسع بلاطها كثيرا وملاعبها وحيطانها ورتب‬

‫شوارعها وقسطنطين اظهر فساد الثورية وما قصده حان وقايافا من ابطال ُمجيء المسيح‬ ‫‪11‬‬ ‫‪L’orthographe du texte arabe manuscrit présente des altérations au niveau de l’écriture qui‬‬ ‫‪appartiennent soit à l’économie de l’écriture comme l’absence de point sous le bā’, sous le jīmou sur‬‬ ‫‪le ẓā’, soit à des modifications phonétiques comme la disparition des interdentales, par exemple le‬‬ ‫‪dhā’est écrit sans point comme un dā’, al-lādīpour al-lādhī, le tā’est mis à la place du thā’, thumma‬‬ ‫‪devient tumma. Mais l’absence ou la présence de points est parfois très aléatoire, f. 176r, lignes 14 et‬‬ ‫‪ est‬جزائر ‪15, tafsīrest écrit une fois avec ses points, l’autre fois sans aucun. Cette économie fait que‬‬ ‫‪. La hamzan’est pas écrite, lu’lu’devient lūlū. La ḍammaest souvent‬يحى ‪ devient‬يجيء ‪ et‬حراير ‪écrit‬‬ ‫‪écrite et nous l’avons gardée dans l’édition. A noter que pour Ṣufiyadu nom de l’église Ἁγία Σοφία‬‬ ‫‪.‬صافيا ‪le timbre de la syllabe est rendu par un alīfd’allongement et une ḍamma:‬‬ ‫‪ُ La syntaxe présente‬‬ ‫‪souvent des asyndètes avec la juxtaposition des propositions plutôt que leur coordination. Les accords‬‬ ‫‪grammaticaux ne sont pas systématiquement respectés; les déclinaisons ne sont pas employées de‬‬ ‫‪manière régulière; un duel peut être rappelé par un pronom au pluriel. L’accord du nom de l’objet‬‬ ‫‪compté avec le numéral est irrégulier. La particule lam n’est pas toujours suivie de l’apocopé‬‬ ‫‪. Nous sommes en présence de moyen arabe, et pour‬لم يرى ‪notamment avec le verbe ra’ā, l’on a ainsi‬‬ ‫‪cette édition, nous avons rétabli la graphie des lettres mais n’avons pas corrigé les fautes d’accord‬‬ ‫‪grammatical.‬‬ ‫‪12‬‬ ‫‪.‬قسطىطن ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪13‬‬ ‫‪ُ .‬يعاىذه ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪14‬‬ ‫‪.‬المىطر‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪15‬‬ ‫‪.‬ىوقلىطىاىوس ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪16‬‬ ‫‪.‬ىىىاں ىورس ‪Ms.:‬‬

‫‪48‬‬

‫‪J.-C. DUCÈNE‬‬

‫ووضعوا اسم قينان ابن ارفخشاد ابن سام ابن نوح وكان ملك قسطنطين الملك بعد َمجيء‬ ‫المسيح له المجد ثلاثمائة وخمس سنين وكان بقسطنطين برص فلما ان تعمد طهر منه فقوي‬ ‫تنصرت ]‪١٧٢‬و[ َهيلنة والدته بعده‬ ‫انّما لما سقط البرص عن جسده مثل قشور السمك ثم‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫وحجت الي اورشلم وكان كسرى نوشروان قد حاصر ُ‬ ‫سطنطينية مدّ ة اربعة عشر سنة ونال‬ ‫الق‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫اهلها منه شدّ ة شديدة واخرب ُ‬ ‫القدس واخرب مصر واسكندر ّية واخذ عود الصليب من‬ ‫ً‬ ‫كثيرا‪ 17‬وكاتبه هرقل ملك الروم يقول انني اقوم اليك‬ ‫خلقا‬ ‫القسطنطينية وقتل من النصارى‬ ‫ً‬

‫بمهما الزمتني به من المال وأنصرف عني الى بلادك فكتب اليه كسرى ان اردت ذلك فاحمل‬

‫فضة والف جارية بكر والف فرس‬ ‫الى الفدية عنك وعن بلادك الف قنطار ذهب والف قنطار ّ‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫‪19‬‬ ‫‪18‬‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫الى‬ ‫ذلك‬ ‫بحمل‬ ‫وتعجل‬ ‫سنة‬ ‫كل‬ ‫في‬ ‫عليك‬ ‫جارية‬ ‫الفدية‬ ‫هذه‬ ‫وتكون‬ ‫ديباج‬ ‫ثوب‬ ‫والف‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫الساعة فدية هذه السنة عاج ًلا وكان كسرى هذا قد تنصر وتزوج مريم إبنة موريق ملك الروم‬ ‫لما نصره على عدؤه بهرام جور‪.‬‬ ‫فصل في سنة عشرين وتسعمائة للشهداء الابرار فتحها الفرنج وملكوها وصارت بيدهم ولم‬ ‫تقدر نقولا بطرك الملكية عند قسمته بمصر والاسكندر ّية ان يمضى‪ 20‬الى القسطنطينية على‬ ‫جاري عادة من تقدّ مه ونهبوا ]‪١٧٢‬ظ[ الفرنج واخربوا وحضر منها للاسكندرية من الالات‬ ‫وفضة وتواصل‬ ‫المحكة الصنعة وانية البيع شيء كثير ذهب‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫والعدد والكساوي والقون المذهبة ُ‬ ‫‪21‬‬ ‫كثيرا وعوضهم عوضة من البضائع ما اختاوه ملؤوا‬ ‫ذلك في مملكة العادل واتباع منهم شئ‬ ‫ً‬

‫‪22‬‬

‫منه المراكب وحمل الى اخر تسطير هذه السيرة في سنة تسعمائة وخمسة وعشرين للشهداء‬

‫الابرار الرخام الملون وكانت الى هذا التاريخ بيد الفرنج وليس للروم الملكية بها ُملك ولا كلمة‬ ‫ولا امر ولانهى التجار يسافرون اليها والى ثغر‪ 23‬الاسكندر ّية على العادة الجارية واخربوها الفرنج‬ ‫عظيما‪ 24‬لم يري مثله قط‪.‬‬ ‫خرا ًبا‬ ‫ً‬ ‫فصل وبها بيعة مارت ُصافية انشاءها يسطانيانوس‬

‫‪25‬‬

‫الملك وصفتها على ما حكاه من‬

‫شاهدها وكتب حليتها معه في ورق الدفتر وتسفير ُصافية القديسة الحكيمة وكان هذا في‬ ‫بطركية تاوضوسيوس‪ 26‬على الاسكندرية وهو الثالث والثلاثين في العدد وهذه القديسة صافية‬ ‫استشهدت وثلاث بنات لها استشهدوا في مملكة دريانوس ملك الروم وفي بطركية‪ 27‬اوماىىوس‬ ‫السابع في العدد ]‪١٧٣‬و[ وفي هذه البيعة عظام يوحنا الذهبي اللسان شهد باتريخ المنبج انها‬ ‫‪.‬خلق كثير ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬توب ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬تعحل ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬يمصى ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬شيء كثير ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬ملو ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬تعر ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬خراب عظيم ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬بسطاسيانوس ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬ىاوضوسيوس ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬ىطرىركبه ‪Ms.:‬‬

‫‪17‬‬ ‫‪18‬‬ ‫‪19‬‬ ‫‪20‬‬ ‫‪21‬‬ ‫‪22‬‬ ‫‪23‬‬ ‫‪24‬‬ ‫‪25‬‬ ‫‪26‬‬ ‫‪27‬‬

‫‪49‬‬

‫)‪CONSTANTINOPLE CHEZ ABŪ L-MAKĀRIM (M. AP. 1209‬‬

‫ُحملت في بطريكية كيرلس ُمعلم المسكونة وهو الرابع والعشرين في العدد ُحمل جسد‬ ‫ارقديوس ابن تدوس الملك الكبير من المكان الذي كان نُفى اليه واجساد ُصافية وبناتها الثلاثة‬ ‫الشهيدات العذارى وا ّمهم في مغارة مرقس الانجيلي في دير اسفل الارض بمدينة الاسكندرية‬ ‫مع اجساد جماعة كثيرة من القسيدين‪.‬‬ ‫العدرى الطاهرة انشاها ملوك الروم وهى عظيمة جدّ ا وحملوا‬ ‫بيعة‬ ‫السيدة مرت مريم ُ‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫‪28‬‬ ‫التوابيت من جسمانية باكفافهم من خارج مدينة ُ‬ ‫القدس ووضعوهم في هذه البيعة ولم يبق‬ ‫من الاجساد وهى بها موضوعة ليتبارك بها‬

‫الجسمانية سوى الصفاة المنقورة الخالية‬ ‫في‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫بشر الله به زكريا وجعله‬ ‫ايضا فيها جسد يوحنا ابن زكر ّيا‬ ‫المعمدان الذي ّ‬ ‫الناس‪ .‬كنيسة بها ً‬ ‫َ‬ ‫‪31‬‬ ‫‪30‬‬ ‫كاروزا في الناموس ومعرفا لبني اسرائل بمجيء المسيح المنتظر وانه ياتي بعده حمل الله‬ ‫‪29‬‬

‫الذي يحمل خطايا العالم كما شهد يوحنا وقال عنه الذي ياتي‪32‬بعدي وهو كان قبلي وانا لا‬ ‫استحق ان احل سيور حدايه‪.‬‬ ‫فصل وجدت في نسخة ]‪١٧٣‬ظ[ قطمارس ان عظام يوحنا المعمدان وجدت في الثاني من‬ ‫بؤونة‪ 33‬وانها ُحملت الى السكندر ّية مع عظام اليشع النبي ودفا في الكنيسة التي انشاها تاوفيلس‬ ‫البطرك وهو في العدد الثالث والعشرين وكان نقلهما اليها في بطركية اتياسيوس وهو العشرين‬ ‫في عدد البطاركة‪.‬‬ ‫بيعة مارى تاما بالجزيرة المجاورة للقسطنطينية وهى في وسط البحر الذى يسمى ببطس‬ ‫الذي ولد بيلاطس البنطي في علو ساحل هذا البحر وفيها ُقتل مخنائل ملك الروم بيد احد‬ ‫خواصه وملك بعده‪.‬‬ ‫بيعة انشاها اندراس اخو بطرس رئيس التلاميذ ودفن جسده الطاهر بها‪.‬‬ ‫بيعة فيها صورة السيدة العذرى وهى حاملة المسيح في قونة ومن هذه الصورة تكلمت‬ ‫السيدة لبعض الملك وافا اليها مختفي من جزيرة بعيدة وصلى قدّ امها وسألها ان ترشده لما‬ ‫فيه خيرته فخاطبته‪ 34‬من الصورة جواب ما سأل عنه بما فيه خيرته وانه عاد الى ارض مملكته‬ ‫وكان تصل من جهته في ّ‬ ‫كل وقت لبيعة السيدة خيرات كثيرة‪ 35‬وهدايا وتحف حتى كثر مال‬ ‫الكنيسة وحسن حال كهنتها وكان لهذه البيعة وكهنتها ]‪١٧٤‬و[ مرتّب واوقاف كثيرة وبيعة ثانية‬ ‫ويعيد لهما في ّ‬ ‫كل يوم الثلاثا‬ ‫فيها صورة بطرس وبونس مما جميعه تصوير لوقا الانجيلي بيده‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫كل جمعة وتحمل القونتين‪ 36‬الى ّ‬ ‫من ّ‬ ‫كل بيعة في القسطنطينية ويجمع اليها خلق كثير‪.‬‬

‫‪.‬حملواتوابيت ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫َ‬ ‫‪.‬خالية ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬المنتطر ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬ىاىى ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪Ecrit au dessus de la ligne.‬‬ ‫‪.‬بوونه ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬حاطبته ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬كىىر ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬القوىىں ‪Ms.:‬‬

‫‪28‬‬ ‫‪29‬‬ ‫‪30‬‬ ‫‪31‬‬ ‫‪32‬‬ ‫‪33‬‬ ‫‪34‬‬ ‫‪35‬‬ ‫‪36‬‬

‫‪50‬‬

‫‪J.-C. DUCÈNE‬‬

‫دير في جزيرة قريبة من القسطنطينية كان ياوي اليه يوحنا ابن عبدون بطرك انطاكية عند‬ ‫الملكية شدّ ة وكانت بناحيته في النفي‬ ‫ابعاده اليه ملك الروم المخالف الحلقدوني وناله من‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫‪37‬‬ ‫تضمنت سيرة المتقي لله في تاريخ ثابت ابن سنان‬ ‫سنة سبعمائة وسبعة واربعين للشهد الابرار‪.‬‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫في الجزء السادس منه في سنة احد وثلاثين وثلاثمائة هجرية ورد كتاب ملك الروم يلتمس فيه‬ ‫منديل كان المسيح مسح به وجهه فصار صورة وجهه فيه وانه اذا انُفذ اليه اطلق من الاسارى‬ ‫‪38‬‬ ‫الرها وانه‬ ‫ُ‬ ‫المسلمين الذين في يده عدد كثير ذكره في كتابه وان ذلك المنديل كان في بيعة ُ‬ ‫لما عرض الكتاب على المتقى‪ 39‬ل ّله من يدّ ابي‪ 40‬الحسين على ابن ُمقلة الوزير تقدّ م باحضار‬

‫الفقهاء والقضاء واستفتاهم ليعمل بما يفتون به واحضروا ابا‪ 41‬الحسين على ابن عيسى ]‪١٧٤‬ظ[‬ ‫والوجوه من اهل الحضرة فمنهم من افتى وقال ان بقا المنديل بيدّ المسلمين اولى‪ 42‬ومنهم من‬ ‫افتى بحمله اليه وتسليم الاسارى منه واستوذن على ذلك فامر به وحمله اليه وخلص منه‬ ‫الاساري جماعة‪.43‬‬ ‫فصل وعادة ّ‬ ‫كل ‪ 44‬من ملوك الروم ان نعته الملك العظيم الضابط لكونه ملك الروم المولود‬ ‫‪45‬‬ ‫على التوقير من نسل مناويل ُ‬ ‫القمنس وهو جنسه وعادتهم ان يت ّوح كل منهم بتاج الملك في‬ ‫بيعة اجيا ُصافية فوق ُ‬ ‫الانبل وسط البيعة بحضور جماعة من البطاركة والكهنة والشمامسة‬ ‫ووجوه الاكابر من ُجند الملك وصفة التاج وهو ان يكون من الذهب الخالص المحكمة‬ ‫الصنعة وهو شبه القلنسوة وهو مك ّلل بالجواهر الفاخرة والاحجار الكريمة وبين عينيه‪ 46‬حجر‬ ‫ياقوت بهرمان احمر شفاف مضيء يظهر وميضة‪ 47‬وضياه حوله تيلالا به وجه الملك عند ما‬ ‫يوضع التاج على رأسه وفي وسط التاج مما يعلو رأس الملك صليب من الياقوت الاحمر ُمك ّلل‬

‫بالليالي للكبار الصافية البياض على اربعة جهات الصليب في ّ‬ ‫كل جهة جوهرتان‪ 48‬العدّ ة ثمانية‬

‫جواهر يض ّوئ‪ 49‬كضياء الشمس على صفحات المياه وبين يدي الملك ]‪١٧٥‬و[ منارة ذهب‬ ‫ُمحكمة الصنعة وباعلاها حجر ياقوت من ذلك النسبة يضىء على ما حوله ويكون في حال‬ ‫جلوسة في البلاط المعروف بقسطنطين الكبير وهو ا ّما على المنبر العالى الذي هو منصوب في‬ ‫بلاط الملك او على جهة اخرى معتد له مع الارض لاجل البطاركة والكهنة الذين حوله عند‬ ‫جالوسة والتاج على رأسه وعند ما ُي َعقد التاج على رأس الملك في البيعة او ًلا كما تقدم القول‬ ‫‪.‬التقي ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬الدى ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬التقي ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬ابو ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬ابى ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬اولا ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪Ecrit au dessus de la ligne.‬‬ ‫‪.‬من تملك ‪Ecrit dans la marge:‬‬ ‫‪.‬القَ ىىمس ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬عيناه ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪Ditto.‬‬ ‫‪.‬جوهرتين ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬يضو ‪Ms.:‬‬

‫‪37‬‬ ‫‪38‬‬ ‫‪39‬‬ ‫‪40‬‬ ‫‪41‬‬ ‫‪42‬‬ ‫‪43‬‬ ‫‪44‬‬ ‫‪45‬‬ ‫‪46‬‬ ‫‪47‬‬ ‫‪48‬‬ ‫‪49‬‬

‫‪51‬‬

‫)‪CONSTANTINOPLE CHEZ ABŪ L-MAKĀRIM (M. AP. 1209‬‬

‫العلا وعلى الارض‬ ‫يقلول البطاركة والكهنة من فم واحد بالرومي ما تسفيره عربيًّا المجد ل ّله في ُ‬ ‫السلام وفي الناس المسرة وبعد ظهوره من البيعة وجلوسة في بلاط الملك الكبير قسطيطين‬ ‫يجتعون البطاركة والكهنة حوله ويرتلون بالتسائج‪ 50‬والالحان الشجية ويتبهلون الى ال ّله بالدعا‬ ‫الصالح ان يويده ويصلح نقية ونيصره على من يعاده ويحرسه بملائكته المقربين ويجري‬ ‫الخيرات على يديه والامن والسلامة في ايامه وبعد ذلك ينتقلون البطاركة والكهنة والاراخنة‬ ‫الى وليهة الملك المعدّ ة لهم خاصة فيأكلون ويباركون ويفرحون ويسرون وكذلك يبسط‬ ‫]‪١٧٥‬ظ[ سماط الملك للجيوتس والعساكر بما يلائمهم ثم بعد ذلك يجلس الملك وينعم‬ ‫بالمواهب‪51‬والعطايا الجزلة لرؤساء‪ 52‬الشعب الحاضرين ولخواص مملكته ومن يتلوهم ثم يحمل‬ ‫الى بيعة ال ّله من العطايا يصلح به حال البيعة وخدام البيعة‪.‬‬ ‫‪53‬‬ ‫المقدّ سة ان يفرش بلاط الملك جميعه‬ ‫فصل وعادة ملوك الروم ايضا في يوم عيد القيامة ُ‬

‫مرسين اخضر وترتيب الرياحين المل ّونة باحسن ترتيب ويعلق الستور الديباج المذهبة وتوزر بها‬ ‫جميع حيطان بلاط الملك ويفرش البسط المحكومة الصنعة لجلوس الحاضرين ويجلس الملك‬ ‫على سرير الملك المصفح بالذهب على نقى العاج المنقوش والابنوس وتلبس تاج الملك‬ ‫وتوضع بين يديه‪ 54‬المنارة الذهب المقدم ذكرها ويجلسون حوله من الكهنة ووجوه دولته من‬ ‫اسرة حول سرير الملك بما يلايم كل طبقة منهم في‬ ‫المدعوين وجميعهم على‬ ‫يختار من‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫‪55‬‬ ‫المقدّ سة‬ ‫طقوسهم ثم يبتدون الكهنة بالتسبيح والتمجيد والابتهال والفرح والسرور بيوم القيامة ُ‬ ‫وياكلون ويفرحون ويشربون ويسرون ]‪١٧٦‬و[ في ذلك اليوم العظيم بحضرة الملك بادب‬ ‫وسكون والملك جالس وبيده قضيب الملك العجيب المنظر ومنقوشة على ظاهر القضيب‬ ‫صلبان بالذهب مكللة بالجواهر واللؤلؤ الساطع البياض والمكتوب على القضيب المجد ل ّله في‬ ‫‪56‬‬ ‫المسرة وعليه مكتوب ايضا الشكر ل ّله الذي انعم علينا‬ ‫العلاء وعلى الارض السلام وفي الناس‬ ‫ُ‬ ‫ّ‬

‫والسلطان ورفع منار الدين الصحيح بقوة صليب سيدنا المسيح‬ ‫بحقيقة الايمان وا ّيدنا بالملك‬ ‫ُ‬ ‫المحيط ومناصبها فله المجد‬ ‫واقام ملوك المؤمنين في مشارق الارض ومغاربها وجزائر البحر ُ‬ ‫والعظمة والاكرام على سبوغ هذه الانعام مكتوبا على قضيب الملك بقلم الرومي ما هذا شرحه‬ ‫اليمنى وبيده اليسرى شمعه مذهبة تقد ثم‬ ‫وتفسيره ويكون هذا القضيب المذكور بيد الملك ُ‬ ‫يجيء ّ‬ ‫كل واحد من الحاضرين ويقول بلسان الرومي احرسطوس انستو الذي تفسيره المسيح‬ ‫اليمنى‬ ‫قام يقول الملك اليتوس احرتي وتفسيره‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫بالحق ظهر ثم يقوم ويخرج والقضيب بيده ُ‬ ‫اليسرى فيلقاه من وجوه جنده وعساكره ]‪١٧٦‬ظ[ فيجلس في‬ ‫على كتفه الايمن والشمعة بيده ُ‬

‫ويقبلون الارض بين يديه‬ ‫زمرا‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫زمرا ً‬ ‫المقطع الا ّول من البلاط فيقبلون جميعهم على طبقاتهم ً‬ ‫‪.‬ىالتساىح ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪Le mot est répété et barré.‬‬ ‫‪.‬لرووسا ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪Le mot est répété et barré.‬‬ ‫‪Ecrit au dessus de la ligne.‬‬ ‫‪.‬ىبتدوا ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪ barré.‬الايمان ‪Ms.:‬‬

‫‪50‬‬ ‫‪51‬‬ ‫‪52‬‬ ‫‪53‬‬ ‫‪54‬‬ ‫‪55‬‬ ‫‪56‬‬

‫‪52‬‬

‫‪J.-C. DUCÈNE‬‬

‫ّ‬ ‫النصرانية‬ ‫صف اليمين احد ملوك‬ ‫ورسل الملوك قائمين قدامه عن يمينه وعن يساره ويكون ا ّول‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫صف اليسار رسول خليفة مصر ويتلوا بعضهم بعض على قدر درجاتهم‪.‬‬ ‫وا ّول‬ ‫فصل وذكر ان ُمعدل ما ُيحمل الى خزائن الملك في ّ‬ ‫كل يوم من المال ثمانية وثلاثين قنطار‬

‫وفضة ولم يذكر التفصيل وان عدّ ة ما يذكا بها في ّ‬ ‫كل يوم من الغنم الضان ستة الاف‬ ‫ذهب‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫للرسل الوافدين اليها من ّ‬ ‫كل الاقاليم وعدّ ة الحمامات‬ ‫رأس غير ما ُيصرف عليها في الاقامة‬ ‫ُ‬ ‫الدائرة بها اربعة الاف حمام والصيارف بهذه المدينة سبعة الاف صيرفي وطول مدينة‬

‫القسطنطينية مثل من رأس الطابية الطاهرة الى مثل دير الطين ببركة الحبش بظاهر مصر‬ ‫وقسطنطينية آخر جزيرة الاندلس وهى مثل الكرنيب ومبلغ القنطار الرومي سبعة الاف ومائتى‬ ‫مثقال‪.‬‬ ‫القسطنطينية يشربون الخمر بالماء الحار ولا يقدرون على شرب الماء البارد لبرد‬ ‫فصل واهل‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫ستمرا ابدا وجميع اليهود يسكنون في جزيرة م ّتسعة قبالة القسطنطينية ويعدون‬ ‫البلاد ]‪١٧٧‬و[ ُم‬ ‫ّ‬

‫اليها للتسبب في معائشهم ثم يعودون الى الجزيرة في المراكب ولا يبات احد منهم بالمدينة‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫وكل من ملوك الروم اذا عقد له الملك ولبس التاج تحضر اليه جميع‬ ‫بالجملة الكافية ابدا‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫الرخام ومع ّ‬ ‫كل منهم لوح رخام من لون رخام جهته ملون من افخر‬ ‫سكان الضياع التي بها ُ‬ ‫ما يكون من الرخام ويعرض جميع الرخام على الملك فيختار من الالوان المحضرة ما يختاره‬ ‫ويستحضر الذين حضر ذلك الصنف صحبتهم ويامرهم ان يهتموا بجمع ذلك الصنف قدر ما‬ ‫يشير لهم به ولا يك ّلفهم ان يصرفوا عليه من جهتهم بل يامرهم بالاحتراز التام في تحصيل ما‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫لكل ملك عفيف يسلك طريق العدل والاتضاع ومسيرة‬ ‫يوافق راى الملك وهذا القول ُيقال‬

‫ّ‬ ‫شماس كامل او بودياقن‬ ‫بلادها خمسة عشر شهرا‬ ‫وكل ملك يقوم منهم يقدم كاهنا ا ّما قس او ّ‬ ‫حتى لا يتقدمه احد بعد الكاهن في تناول ُ‬ ‫القربان الطاهر وايضا انه يجعل يده على راس‬

‫البطريك عند تقدمته وبعده الكهنة‪.‬‬ ‫وبالقسطنطينية المسجد الذي كان عمر ابن الخطاب سأل الملك بانشانه‬ ‫فصل ]‪١٧٧‬ظ[‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫بها في ابتداء خلافته على المسلمين بقدر جلد ثور واستحلف الملك على تمكينه من عمارته‬ ‫فحلف له على ذلك فعمد الى الجلد فقده رقيقا فصار منه اذرع كثير فانشأه على هذا القياس‬ ‫وذكر ان خارجي من خوارج الروم خرج على ولد ملك الروم فانبسطت يدّ ه وانه قتل من الفرنج‬ ‫خلقا كثيرا‪.57‬‬ ‫فصل وفي بيعة مارى ُصافية المقدّ م ذكرها المنديل الذي فيه طبع الآية الذي ظهر في المنديل‬ ‫المتقي لله فدية لخلاص‬ ‫الرها لما حمله اليه ُ‬ ‫لما مسح سيدنا المسيح به وجهه انتقل من بيعة ُ‬ ‫عدّ ة كبيرة من اسرى المسلمين في سنة احدى وثلاثين وثلاثمائة هجر ّية وفيها الهدايا التي‬ ‫‪58‬‬

‫والم ّر واللبان‪.‬‬ ‫قدمتها المجوس في ميلاد المسيح بالجسد من العذرى‪ 59‬الطاهرة وهى الذهب‬ ‫ُ‬ ‫‪.‬خلق كثير ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬لحلاص ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬العددى ‪Ms.:‬‬

‫‪57‬‬ ‫‪58‬‬ ‫‪59‬‬

‫‪53‬‬

‫)‪CONSTANTINOPLE CHEZ ABŪ L-MAKĀRIM (M. AP. 1209‬‬

‫فصل وفي بلاط الملك ُقسطنطين في البيعة فيه مضافا الى غيرة البلاطة الرخام التي كفن‬ ‫نيقاديموس جسد المسيح عليها كانت نُقلت من القدس الى افسس ومنها الى القسطنطينية‬ ‫وهى طول قامته‪١٧٨] 60‬و[ وارتفاعها ذراع في عرض ذراع وفيها عصاة موسى النبي وهى ُمش ّعبة‬ ‫وقرون كبش‪ 61‬ابراهيم الذي فدى به اسحق وجرن رخام الذي يعمد‪ 62‬فيه ُقسطنطين الملك‬ ‫والجرن الذي غسل فيه المسيح ارجل تلاميذه وسرير‬ ‫الكبير الاول فيه اثر الماء الذي تعمد فيه‬ ‫ُ‬ ‫الملك وبها في مغارة كتب السرائر لاقليمس في تابوت واسماه تابوت العهد الثاني وهذه‬ ‫ُ‬ ‫سيدنا متزرا به في وقت غسله لارجل تلاميذه في‬ ‫الكتب جميعها ملفوفة بالمنديل الذي كان ّ‬ ‫بالسبتية التي كانت على راسه في القبر وفيها‬ ‫ُعلية صهيون في يوم الخميس الكبير وجللها‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫الاكفان التي كانت على المسيح مع الثوب التي وضعت عليه والثوب الاحمر والاسفنجة التي‬ ‫غمست بالخل والمرارة والحبل الذي ربط به على الخشبة والخشبة والقصبة التي نُقف بها‪.‬‬ ‫ذكر في نُسخة اخرى ان جميع ما ذكر نُقل من ُ‬ ‫القسطنطينية الى رومية‪ .‬تضمن تاريخ الطبري‬ ‫توجه وم ّلكه‬ ‫ان موريق ملك الروم قتلوه الروم‪ 63‬وان ولده التجأ الى كسرى ملك الفُ رس وانه ّ‬ ‫على الروم وانفذ معه ثلاثة من اصحابه وخواص جنده ليسلموا اليه المملكة على الروم وان‬ ‫احدهم وجهه ]‪١٧٨‬ظ[ الى الشام وانتهى الى فلسطين ثم الى مدينة بيت المقدس وانه اجتهد‬ ‫في طلب خشبة الصليب فوجدها قد وضعت في تابوت من ذهب وطمر التابوت في بستان‬ ‫وزرع فوقه مبقلة وانه كشف الارض عن التابوت الذهب وبعت به الى كسرى في السنة الرابعة‬ ‫وعشرين من مملكته ثم ملكت بوران‪ 64‬ابنة‪ 65‬كسرى انوشروان ابن هرمز ابن كسرى انوشروان‬ ‫رد بها على ملك الروم صحبه جاثليق من اصحابه‪.‬‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫بيعة على البحر المالح فيها صليب الصلبوت المعظم في تابوته الذهب وهو تام في الطول‬ ‫منصوب في شاق هذه البيعة‪ .‬وبها ايضا الماء والدم اللذان خرجا من جنب السيد على الصليب‬ ‫في اناء بلور محفوظ في قمطرة ذهب مرصعة بالجواهر الكريمة وذكر لي ابا الحاطي صفريانوس‬ ‫توجهه في الخلافة العاضد ّية الى القسطنطينية انه شاهد الدم في مدهنه‬ ‫بطريك‬ ‫الملكية عند ّ‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫‪66‬‬ ‫بلور وهو د ّم مايع غير جامد وتلك المدهنة في محفظة ذهب مك ّللة والمسامير التي سمر بهم‬ ‫فضة سد الملك سارمر الفرنجي وشهد تاريخ محبوب ابن‬ ‫في قمطرة ذهب في ضمن قمطرة ّ‬ ‫قسطنطين ان هذه المسامير وجميع ذلك انتقل الى رومية‪١٧٩] .‬و[ اكليل الشوك الذي جعلوه‬ ‫السيد محفوظ في غلاف ذهب والحربة التي طعن بها محفوظ في‬ ‫اليهود الملاعين على رأس‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫الذخيرة ُمغلفة بالذهب وان هذه السرائر والذخائر يظهرون في بيعة رومية ثلاثة ا ّيام في السنة‬ ‫المجيد وثانية وثالثة ويكون لظهورهم مجد عظيم وفرح‬ ‫وهى يوم الاحد الذي هو الفصح ُ‬ ‫‪.‬قامه ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪Ecrit au dessus de la ligne par une autre main et repris dans la marge gauche.‬‬ ‫‪Ecrit au dessus de la ligne par une autre main.‬‬ ‫‪Dittographie barrée.‬‬ ‫‪Dittographie barrée.‬‬ ‫‪.‬ابنت ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬دما مايعا ‪Ms.:‬‬

‫‪60‬‬ ‫‪61‬‬ ‫‪62‬‬ ‫‪63‬‬ ‫‪64‬‬ ‫‪65‬‬ ‫‪66‬‬

‫‪54‬‬

‫‪J.-C. DUCÈNE‬‬

‫وسرور وابتهال يفوق الوصف وعند توجه الملك المؤمن للغزاة يأخذ صحبته شيء من بعض‬ ‫هذه الذخائر فينتصر على اعداه وفي قصر قسطنطين الملك الا ّول بيعة لصلاة الملك في ّ‬ ‫كل‬ ‫يوم وفي الليل‪.‬‬ ‫فصل ذكر ان ُقسطنطين الملك المؤمن لما اجتهد في ا ّيام ملكه وجد في طلب هذه الذخائر‬ ‫المقدسة واسخرجها من ذخائر الملوك ومن الاماكن المخفية بالحيلة والاجتهاد وحمل‬ ‫والآثار ُ‬ ‫جميعها الى قصر مملكته جعل ّ‬ ‫كل شيء منهم مهما يناسبه في خزانة محكومة الصنعة ُمز ّينة‬ ‫بالعاج النقي والابنوس والرخام المل ّون وتلك الذخيرة في محافظ ذهب مك ّللة بالجواهر الثمينة‬ ‫وقدّ ام ّ‬ ‫كل خزانة منهم قناديل وشمع يقد في النهار والليل في البيعة التي في قصر الملك‪.‬‬

‫فصل ان عدّ ة الديارات التي هناك الى آخر سنة ست وثلاثين وخمسمائة عربية‪ 67‬وهى السنة‬ ‫الحافظية خارجا عن البيع فانها لا تحصى بل الاديرة‬ ‫الحادية عشر من ]‪١٧٩‬ظ[ الخلافة‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫‪68‬‬ ‫والرهبانات ثلاثة الاف دير في القسطنطينية واعمالها وذكر ان‬ ‫بالرهبان ُ‬ ‫القائمة البناء العامرة ُ‬

‫عدّ ة ما في المدينة خاصة ثلاثمائة دير وخمسون للرهبانات وكنائس عامرة بالشعب الكثير‬

‫والكهنة سبعة الاف داخل سور المدينة وخارجا عن السور قريب منها يخرجون اليهم اهل‬ ‫المدينة ّ‬ ‫السيدة‬ ‫كل وقت ويحضرون للصلاة والقداسات ويعودون واكثر هذه البيع على اسم‬ ‫ّ‬

‫العذرى مرت مريم‪.‬‬

‫فصل صفة كنيسة ُصافية المقدّ م ذكرها ذات الثلاثمائة س ّتة وس ّتين باب المشهور ذكرها‬ ‫في المدن والاقاليم منها بابان‪ 69‬يفتحان الى جهة الغرب على ّ‬ ‫فضة جافية‬ ‫كل منهما زوج ابواب ّ‬ ‫قبة عالية جدّ ا محمولة على‪ 70‬اركان معقودة محكومة الصنعة في البناء‬ ‫بغير خشب وفي وسطها ّ‬ ‫القبة مائة وستين باعا وهى عالية جدّ ا لم يرى في المدن‬ ‫والهندسة ذكر ان سعة ذيل فتح هذه ّ‬ ‫القبة ثمانين طاق في ّ‬ ‫كل طاق منها طبق لطيف‬ ‫والاقاليم مثالها في سعتها وارتفاعها ودائر هذه ّ‬ ‫فضة ومنقاط حرير‬ ‫فضة بحلقة ّ‬ ‫فضة وضمنه زبد ّية بلور وذلك معلك بثلاثة ]‪١٨٠‬و[ سلاسل ّ‬ ‫ّ‬

‫وفي ضمن الزبد ّية جلاس وفيه فتيلة تقد والمذبح داخل الاسكنا وهو لوح ذهب خالص‬ ‫فضة اربعة اعمدة وكسوة المذبح ديباج فاخر‬ ‫مبسوط على قدر المذبح محمول على عمد ّ‬ ‫مك ّلل جميعها بالؤلؤ الوافر الساطع البياض واللميع وخارج الاسكنا اثنا عشر صحن كبار بلور‬ ‫معلقة توقد في الاعياد الكبار وعلى مكان فيه صورة السيدة والملاك ميخائل والملاك غبريال‬ ‫مرصع بالجواهر الكريمة والخزانة‬ ‫عن يمين الصورة ويسارها قدام هذه الصورة لوح ذهب كبير‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫والفضة ومن‬ ‫التي فيها الاوني التي للبيعة من الكاسات والصواني والادراج والقرائب من الذهب‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫الصلبان والمجامر لا تحصى له قيمة ولهذه الخزانة عدّ ة ذهاليز موقودة بالضوء وداخل هذه‬ ‫فضة وفيه ساعد الشهيد بندالاوس ودمه في‬ ‫الخزانة صندوق ذهب لطيف ُمحكم الصنعة بقفل ّ‬ ‫فقاعة زجاج عند استشهاده خرج من عنقه دم وماء اخذه بعض المؤمنين وجعله في الفقاعة‬ ‫‪Ecrit au dessus de la ligne.‬‬ ‫‪.‬والرهبابانات ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪ .‬بابين ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪Dittographie barrée.‬‬

‫‪67‬‬ ‫‪68‬‬ ‫‪69‬‬ ‫‪70‬‬

‫‪55‬‬

‫)‪CONSTANTINOPLE CHEZ ABŪ L-MAKĀRIM (M. AP. 1209‬‬

‫وجعله مع ساعده في ضمن الصندوق و ُيعيد له في السابع والعشرين من شهر تموز يخرج ذلك‬ ‫]‪١٨٠‬ظ[ الصندوق ويفتح ليتباركون الزوار بذلك الساعد ونقلوه ويحملوا اليه النذور والكساوى‬ ‫توجهه من‬ ‫مما اخبرنا به صفرونيوس بطريك‬ ‫الملكية بالاسكندر ّية عند ّ‬ ‫الحرير وغير ذلك وهذا ّ‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫مصر الى ُهناك‪.‬‬ ‫وذكر ايضا ان فيها الاثنا عشر زنبيلا التي جمع التلاميذ فيها فضلات الكسر وقيل ان مسيرها‬ ‫من قسطنطينية خمسة عشر يوما وبمدينة القسطنطينية عامودان‪ 71‬رخام ابيض منقورة لم يرى‬ ‫حفرهم ينزل لهم بدرج وفيهم حبسان‪ 72‬في ّ‬ ‫كل عامود حبس احدهما في شرقي الكنيسة‬ ‫غربيها والجبل الذي قبالتها يقطع منه الرخام الابيض وفي بيعة اجيا ُصافيا يتوج‬ ‫والآخر في‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫الملك الذي يملك على الروم فوق الانبل الذي هو منبر الكنيسة العظمى وهو منصوب وفي‬ ‫وسطها وعند كمال الصلاة عليه ولباس التاج يقول الكهنة روميا ما تفسيره عربيا المجد لله‬ ‫المسرة‪ .‬بيعة الرسل التلاميذ الثنى عشر وتسمى الفرحة‬ ‫في العلا وعلى الارض السلام وفي الناس‬ ‫ّ‬ ‫وفيها قبر قسطنطين الملك المؤمن في ناووس صوان مانع احمر بغطاه مثله ُمحكم الصنعة عالى‬ ‫ظاهر على وجه الارض ]‪١٨١‬و[ وحواليه قبور الملوك بعده وصاروا الملوك الآن ّ‬ ‫كل منهم يعمر‬ ‫له دير ويعمل له فيه مقبرة كما يختار ويجري عليه جاري يقوم بما يحتاج اليه من يقيم بالدير‬ ‫وبما يحتاج اليه الدير من العمارة والوقيد والقرابين وقيام صورة من يخدمه‪.‬‬ ‫قبتها ثمانية عمد رخام جافية منقوشة بواريق واشجار‬ ‫بيعة ابلاطن بيعة كبيرة رحبة تحت ّ‬ ‫لاعبة واحياط مختلفة النقوش لاعبة في بعضها بعض وهذه البيعة حرقت في سنة ستين‬ ‫وخمسمائة هلالية في جملة ما حرق منها ثم اعيدت لما كانت اولا من العمارة‪.‬‬ ‫‪III. TRADUCTION‬‬ ‫‪[171r] Constantinople. Elle était connue antérieurement sous le nom de Byzance,‬‬ ‫‪mais elle prit ce nom lorsque Constantin le roi s’y révèla. Il est le premier des rois‬‬ ‫‪des Grecs (al-Yūnāniyyin) et des Byzantins (al-Rūm) à s’être converti au chris‬‬‫‪tianisme. Il édifia la muraille de Byzance et la nomma Constantinople. La raison‬‬ ‫‪est qu’un adversaire partit en guerre contre lui et se rebella. [Constantin] réfléchit‬‬ ‫‪en lui-même: «Quel moyen me donnera la victoire contre ce rebelle?». Il leva‬‬ ‫‪la tête vers le ciel en y réfléchissant et voilà qu’il y vit, au plein milieu de la‬‬ ‫‪journée, quelque chose ressemblant à une croix. Elle était d’un feu flamboyant.‬‬ ‫‪Il fut troublé par cette vision, s’émerveillant que ce signe apparut en plein ciel à‬‬ ‫‪la mi-journée. Lorsque la nuit fut venue, il s’endormit tout en y pensant avec‬‬ ‫‪étonnement. Il vit cette nuit-là notre Seigneur Jésus sous une forme lumineuse‬‬ ‫‪stupéfiante. Il tenait en main le signe de la croix qui était lumineux comme le‬‬

‫‪.‬عامودين ‪Ms.:‬‬ ‫‪.‬جيسين ‪Ms.:‬‬

‫‪71‬‬ ‫‪72‬‬

56

J.-C. DUCÈNE

soleil à son lever. Il lui dit «Ce signe et cette forme vaincront tes ennemis!». Et quand un roi apparut voulant lui ravir son pouvoir, [Constantin] sortit à sa rencontre et il affichait le symbole de la croix sur ses étendarts. La victoire lui revint, avec l’aide de Dieu, il défit son ennemi et écrasa son armée. Il revint victorieux et heureux. Il mit sa foi dans le Christ et se convertit. Il libéra des prisons ceux qui avaient avoué être chrétiens. [171v] Dieu détruisit Dioclétien l’impie et le roi pieux Constantin règna sur son empire. Il fit construire des monastères, fit démolir des temples et des sanctuaires à idoles. Il établit un phare (manār) de la foi dans le Messie. Les rois byzantins gardèrent la foi après lui. Ils prirent l’habitude de montrer la croix comme signe dans leurs guerres et de triompher de leurs ennemis. Constantin avait épousé la fille de Yūqlīṭīnūs, le premier à jouer avec des faucons et des oiseaux de proie apparentés pour leur enseigner la chasse. Cette ville avait été construite par le roi Yūras, en l’an 32 du règne de Manassé, roi des Juifs (2. Rois 21, 1). Dieu la fit disparaître sous terre; neuf cent soixante-dix ans après sa construction par Yūras, Constantin la restaura. Il l’entoura d’une muraille inexpugnable et lui donna son nom. Il agrandit considérablement son palais, ses cirques, son enceinte, et il ordonna ses rues. Il dévoila l’aspect gâté de la Torah et les intentions d’Anne et Caïphe73 (Jean, 18, 12) de rendre inopérante la venue du Christ et de mettre dans [sa généalogie] le nom de Kaïnam, fils d’Arphaxad, fils de Sem, fils de Noé (Luc, 3, 36). Le règne du roi Constantin — à lui la gloire — eut lieu trois cent cinq ans après la venue du Christ. Constantin avait la lèpre. Lorqu’il fut bâptisé, il en fut purifié. Il se fortifia. La lèpre tomba de son corps comme des écailles de poisson74. Ensuite, [172r] Hélène, sa mère, se convertit après lui et elle fit le pélerinage à Jérusalem. Chosroès Anūširwān avait assiégé Constantinople durant quatorze ans et la population endura la terrible épreuve. Il ravagea Jérusalem, l’Egypte et Alexandrie. Il s’empara du bois de la croix à Constantinople (?). Il tua une foule de chrétiens. Héraclius, l’empereur byzantin, lui écrivit en ces termes «Je t’apporterai tout ce que tu exigeras de moi comme argent, je m’en déchargerai au profit de ton pays». Chosroès lui écrivit: «Tu désires cela, alors apporte-moi un tribut pour toi et ton pays qui s’élève à mille qinṭārd’or, mille qinṭārd’argent, mille jeunes filles vierges, mille chevaux et mille étoffes de brocart. Ce tribut t’est imposé annuellement. Dépêche-toi de m’apporter promptement le montant de cette année!». Ce Chosroès s’était converti au christianisme et avait épousé Mariam, la fille de l’empereur byzantin Maurice, lorsque celui-ci lui avait apporté son aide contre son ennemi Bahrām Jūr. En l’an 920 de l’ère des Martyrs, les Francs conquirent la ville et s’en emparèrent. Elle est entre leurs mains. Le patriarche melkite Nicolas, lors de son ordination en Egypte, à Alexandrie, n’a pu se rendre à Constantinople, à l’habitude 73 74

Agapius de Manbij, Kitābal-‘unwān, A. Vasiliev (éd.), Paris, 1909, I, pp. 88-90. Agapius de Manbij, Kitābal-‘unwān, pp. 83-86.

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57

de ses prédecesseurs. Les Francs [172v] pillèrent et ravagèrent la ville. Ils firent parvenir à Alexandrie des instruments, des ustensiles, des vêtements, des icônes dorées magnifiquement réalisées ainsi que de la vaisselle d’église, de grandes quantités d’or et d’argent. Tout cela arriva sous le règne d’al-‘Ādil (m. 1218). Ils en vendirent beaucoup. Ils l’échangèrent aussi contre des biens qu’ils avaient choisis. Ils en remplirent des bateaux. On transporta, à la fin de l’écriture [de ces lignes] en 925 de l’ère des Martyrs (soit 1209 ap. J-C), du marbre coloré. La ville est jusqu’à cette date aux mains des Francs. L’empereur byzantin n’y a ni pouvoir, ni mot à dire, ni ordre ni interdit [à prononcer]. Les commerçants s’y rendent puis reviennent au poste frontière d’Alexandrie, comme d’habitude. Les Francs ont dévasté la ville [de Constantinople] comme cela ne s’était jamais vu. [A Constantinople], se trouve l’église de Sainte-Sophie75 dont l’érection est due à l’empereur Justinien (Yusṭāsyānūs). Je la décris d’après ce que quelqu’un qui l’a vue a raconté et a détaillé de sa décoration dans les pages d’un cahier. L’explication de Ṣofiyaest «sainte sagesse». A l’époque du patriarcat de Théodose à Alexandrie — il s’agit du trente-troisième patriarche — cette sainte Sophie a connu le martyre. Et ses trois filles connurent le martyre sous le règne de l’empereur romain Hadrien (Diryānūspour Hadrianus), sous le patriarcat d’Eumenes (Ūmānyūs), le septième patriarche. [173r] Dans cette église, on trouve aussi les ossements de Jean Chrysostome (al-dhahabī al-lisān). On témoigne dans l’histoire de Manbij que [ses reliques] furent translatées sous le patriarcat de Cyrille, l’enseignant de l’humanité, qui fut le vingt-quatrième [patriarche]. Furent transportés le corps d’Arcadius, fils de Théodose le grand roi du lieu où il était enseveli à Alexandrie, [ainsi que] les corps de Sophia et de ses trois filles martyres et vierges. Ils furent dirigés (amma-hum?) dans la grotte de Marc l’Evangéliste, dans le monastère de la basse terre76, à Alexandrie, avec les corps d’une foule d’autres saints. 75 R. Janin, Lagéographieecclésiastiquedel’empirebyzantin.I. (Paris, 1953), pp. 471-485. L’église est bien dédiée à la “divine sagesse” et n’a pas de lien avec la légendaire martyre de 126. 76 L’église Asfalal-arḍétait située dans la partie d’Alexandrie appelée “Bucolies”. Elle était consacrée à Saint Marc et elle était à proximité du martyrium de l’apôtre. Selon Saleh Hamarneh, cette église souterraine aurait été une partie du Caesareum, converti à l’époque chrétienne. Mais suivant McKenzie «According to them [the Acts of St Mark], a church (ekklesia) was built in the area beside the sea under crags called Boukolou, and after St Mark was killed by the pagans his remains were deposited ‘in a place (topos) hewn out the rock and held in esteem’ which was ‘located in the eastern part [of the city]’». Al-Harawī au XIIe siècle distingue l’église des tombes de martyrs anonymes. Abū l-Makārim confond parfois le monastère avec le martyrium. Celui-ci était situé à Qamga, en dehors de la ville, à l’est, à proximité du rempart au bord de la mer. Il est détruit en 1218, mais sa description nous est donnée par Abū l-Makārim. Ses ruines sont visibles jusqu’au début du XVIIe siècle. A. Bernand, AlexandrielaGrande(Paris, 1966), p. 210; A. J. Butler, Arab ConquestofEgypt(Oxford, 1902), p. 372; S. K. Hamarneh, “The ancient monuments of Alexandria according to accounts by medieval arab authors”, FoliaOrientalia13 (1971): 77-110, stt. p. 81; J. McKenzie, J., The Architecture of Alexandria and Egypt, 300 BC – AD 700, p. 240; AlHarawī, Guidedeslieuxdepèlerinage, tr. J. Sourdel-Thomine (Damas, 1957), p. 117; M. Martin, “Alexandrie chrétienne à la fin du XIIe siècle d’après Abū l-Makārim”, in Chr. Décobert (dir.),

58

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L’église de Dame Sainte-Marie la pure vierge. Son édification est due à des empereurs byzantins. Elle est excessivement grande. On y a transporté de Gethsémanie des cercueils avec leurs linceuls, depuis l’extérieur de Jérusalem, et ils furent déposés dans cette église. Ne subsiste à Gethsémanie que le rocher creusé, vide des dépouilles. Il y a aussi un endroit que les gens visitent pour en recueillir la grâce. Il y aussi [à Constantinople] l’église de Jean-Baptiste77, fils de Zaccharie, que Dieu annonça à Zaccharie. Il est un prêcheur (kārūz) de la Loi (nāmūs) et un avertisseur (mu‘arrif) pour les Israélites de la venue du Messie attendu, et [il annonça] que viendrait après lui l’agneau de Dieu qui enlèverait les péchés du monde, comme en témoigne Jean (I, 26-30) disant de lui «Il est celui qui viendra après moi, mais il était avant moi. Je ne suis pas digne de défaire les courroies de ses sandales». J’ai trouvé dans un manuscrit [173v] du καθηερινος (Q.ṭmāros, lectionnaire utilisé dans l’église copte)78 que les os de Jean-Baptiste avaient été découverts le 2 du mois de ba‘ūnaet qu’ils avaient été transportés à Alexandrie avec ceux d’Elisée le prophète. Ils furent ensevelis dans l’église que Théophile, le vingttroisième patriarche, avait fait construire. Leur translation à cet endroit eut lieu sous la patriarcat d’Athanase, le vingtième patriarche. L’église de Saint-Thomas79 se trouve dans une île proche de Constantinople, elle est au milieu de la mer que l’on appelle le Pont, en haut des rives de laquelle Ponce Pilate80 vit le jour. C’est là aussi que l’empereur byzantin Manuel fut assassiné par un de ses proches, qui lui succéda81. Il y a également l’église construite par André82, le frère de Pierre, le chef des disciples, où sa dépouille pure est enterrée.

Alexandriemédiévale 1 (1998), pp. 47-48; H. E. Tzolas, “Underwater archeological survey of the Greek mission in the coastal area of Ramleh (1998-2008)”, in L. Ferro (ed.), Alessandriad’Egitto (Boves, 2009), pp. 61-62. 77 R. Janin, Lagéographieecclésiastiquedel’empirebyzantin.I., pp. 423-457, trente-quatre églises, dont juit monastères furent consacrés à saint Jean-Baptiste. 78 R.-G. Coquin and Basilios, “Lectionary”, in S. A. Atiya (ed.), The Coptic Encyclopedia (New York, 1995), V, pp. 1435-1437. 79 Il y a vait plusieurs églises et monastères dédiés à saint Thomas à Constantinople et sur la côte asiatique, il est difficile d’esquisser une identification plus précise, R. Janin, Lagéographie ecclésiastiquedel’empirebyzantin.I.LesiègedeConstantinopleetlepatriarcatoecuménique, tomeIII.Leséglisesetlesmonastères(Paris, 1953), pp. 257-261. 80 Il s’agit d’une étymologie populaire qui rapproche la forme Pontios (“Ponce”) du terme grec, Πόντος, désignant la mer Noire. 81 Abū l-Makārim fait ici allusion à Manuel Ier Comnène (m. 1180), à qui succéda son fils Alexis II Comnène, mais Manuel meurt de maladie à Constantinople le 24 septembre 1180, Niketas Choniates, DieKronederKomnenen, Fr. Grabler (über.) (Graz, 1958), pp. 270-271. 82 Si plusieurs églises et monastères ont été dédiés à saint André, évangélisateur supposé de la ville, aucune, semble-t-il, ne possèdait une telle relique, R. Janin, Lagéographieecclésiastiquede l’empirebyzantin.I,Paris, 1953, pp. 31-36; mais les corps d’André et de Luc auraient été conservés à l’Apostoleion, H. A. Klein, “Sacred relics and imperial ceremonies at the Great Palace of Constantinople”, Byzas5 (2006): 79-99, spc. p. 82.

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Il y a une église où se trouve une représentation de Dame la Vierge, et sur l’icône elle [est représentée] portant le Messie. La Vierge parla par cette icône à un certain roi qui était venu la voir secrètement depuis son île lointaine. Il pria devant elle et il lui demanda qu’elle le guide sur le droit chemin. Elle lui répondit positivement par l’image. Il retourna dans son royaume et il fit envoyer de sa part régulièrement beaucoup de biens, des présents, des cadeaux de sorte que la richesse de l’église augmenta et la situation du clergé fut excellente. Cette église et ce clergé ont [174r] une organisation et beaucoup de biens de mainmorte. Il y a une autre église où se trouve une image de Pierre et de Jean qui y ont été réuni par la peinture (taṣwīr) de Luc l’Evangéliste. Ils sont fêtés tous les deux le mardi de chaque semaine et les deux icônes sont transportées dans toutes les églises de la ville, avec un grand concours de personnes. Il y a un monastère dans une île à proximité de Constantinople où Jean [III] ibn ‘Abdūn, le patriarche d’Antioche s’est réfugié lorsqu’un empereur byzantin anti-chalcédonien l’y avait exilé. Il garda son orthodoxie. La lamentation à propos de son exil eut lieu en 747 de l’ère des Martyrs /1031. La biographie (sīra) d’al-Muttaqī li-lāh relate, dans la sixième partie de l’Histoirede Thābit ibn Sinān83, qu’en 331/942 fut envoyée une lettre de l’empereur byzantin demandant la serviette avec laquelle le visage du Christ avait été essuyé et sur laquelle son visage se trouvait. Lorsque cela lui aurait été envoyé, il libérerait les prisonniers musulmans qu’il avait en grand nombre entre ses mains, ainsi s’exprima-t-il dans sa lettre. Cette serviette était dans une église à Edesse. Lorsque la lettre fut montrée à al-Muttaqī li-llāh de la part d’Abū l-Ḥusayn ‘Alī ibn Muqla84, le vizir, il fit venir des juristes et des cadis, et il leur demanda un avis juridique afin d’agir selon celui-ci. Ils firent venir Abū l-Ḥusayn ‘Alī ibn ‘Īsā85 [174v] et des personnalités de la cour. Parmi ceux-ci, certains donnèrent un avis juridique selon lequel la serviette devait rester prioritèrement aux mains des musulmans, d’autres considérèrent qu’elle devait être envoyée et les prisonniers libérés. La permission lui en fut demandée. Il l’ordonna et la serviette fut renvoyée et [l’empereur] relâcha tous les prisonniers. Il est de coutume pour tout empereur byzantin que sa titulature soit «Roi puissant et ferme86» (al-malikal-‘aẓīmal-ẓābiṭ) parce que l’empereur actuel est, avec vénération, de la descendance de Manuel Comnène et il est de sa famille. 83 L’historien Thābit ibn Sinān (m. 365/975) est surtout connu comme médecin, et son histoire est perdue. Elle commençait vers 299/911 et arrivait à l’époque de l’auteur. Le passage concernant le mandylion se trouve dans la chronographie d’Elie de Nisibe et a été traduit en allemand par von Dobschütz, E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder.UntersuchungenzurChristlichenLegende (Leipzig, 1899), p. 215* 84 Abū l-Ḥusayn ‘Alī ibn ‘Īsā est le fils du vizir Muḥammad ibn ‘Alī ibn Muqla (272/885-6 – 328/940) 85 ‘Alī ibn ‘Īsā (245/859 - 334/946), bien que déjà très âgé, est nommé par al-Muttaqī comme responsable des maẓālim, c’est donc normal qu’il soit ici convoqué pour donner son avis sur une question de justice. 86 La formule correspond grossomodoà la titulature de l’empereur byzantin: βασιλεύς αὐτοκράτωρ σεβαστός.

60

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Il est habituel que chacun d’entre eux soit couronné d’une couronne impériale à Sainte-Sophie, au dessus de l’ambon87 (al-anbal), au centre de l’église en présence de tous les patriarches, du clergé, des prêtres et des grands de l’armée. Description de la couronne: c’est une couronne en or pur, parfaitement réalisée, elle ressemble à un bonnet pointu, elle est rehaussée de joyaux précieux et de pierres de prix. Entre ses yeux, [pend] un rubis vif (bahramān), c’est-à-dire rouge, translucide, lumineux, irradiant, purifié (mīḍa, pour mīḍa’a?), illuminant de son éclat le visage de l’empereur lorsque celui-ci porte la couronne sur la tête. En son centre, au sommet de la tête de l’empereur, se trouve une croix en rubis, rehaussée de grosses perles pures et blanches; sur chacune des quatre faces de la croix, il y a deux joyaux, pour un total de huit. [Cette croix] donne une lumière pareille à celle du soleil à la surface des eaux. Devant l’empereur [175r], il y a un luminaire d’or, parfaitement réalisé, qui supporte un rubis de la même sorte qui illumine ce qui l’entoure. [L’empereur] est aussi présent lors des séances qui se déroulent dans le palais connu à Constantinople comme «le Grand [palais]». Il est soit sur une haute chaire installée dans le palais impérial, soit au niveau du sol pour les patriarches et le clergé qui l’entourent lors de ces séances. Il porte la couronne. Et quand il est ceint de la couronne impériale dans l’église antérieurement, comme nous en avons présenté l’acte, les patriarches et le clergé prononcent en [grec] byzantin d’une seule bouche ce qui peut être traduit en arabe par «Gloire à Dieu dans les cieux, paix sur la terre, et que l’allègresse soit parmi les hommes!». Après son apparition dans l’église et sa séance dans le palais de Constantin le Grand, le patriarche et le clergé se réunissent autour de lui et ils lisent des louanges ainsi que des chants émouvants. Ils implorent Dieu en une saine prière lui demandant de fortifier [l’empereur], de purifier ses intentions, de le faire triompher de celui qui lui fait la guerre; que ses anges familiers le protègent, que les biens coulent d’abondance dans ses mains, et que la paix et la concorde marquent son temps. Après cela, les patriarches, le clergé, les archontes se déplacent vers le banquet impérial préparé spécialement pour eux. Ils mangent, invoquent la bénédiction de Dieu, se réjouissent et sont heureux. De la même manière, [175v] l’empereur organise un repas (litt. étend une nappe, simāṭ) pour ses troupes et ses armées de sorte qu’il puisse les régaler. Ensuite, après cela, l’empeur siège et gratifie de cadeaux et de libéralités importants les chefs du peuple présents ainsi que ceux attachés à l’Empire et qui les suivent. Il apporte ensuite à l’église de Dieu les dons afin d’améliorer sa situation ainsi que celle de ses serviteurs. Il est de coutume également aux empereurs byzantins, le jour de la fête de la sainte Pâques (al-qiyāmaal-muqaddasa), de recouvrir tout le sol du palais impérial de myrte (marsīn) verte, d’arranger des plantes odoriférantes colorées de la plus belle manière qui soit, d’accrocher des tentures de brocart doré et 87

G. Dagron, Empereuretprêtre(Paris, 1996), pp. 74-75.

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d’en recouvrir tous les murs du palais impérial, et d’étendre des tapis parfaits pour les séances de ceux présents. L’empereur s’assied sur le trône impérial, qui est décoré d’ébène et d’ivoire pure rehaussé d’or. Il porte la couronne impériale et on dépose devant lui le luminaire d’or précédemment mentionné. Des membres du clergé et des grands de l’Etat, choisis parmi les invités, s’installent sur des sièges autour du trône impérial selon ce qui convient, chaque groupe d’entre eux selon son rang (fīṭuqūsihim). Ensuite, le clergé entame la louange, la glorification, l’imploration, la joie et l’allègresse du jour de la sainte résurrection. Ils mangent, ils se réjouissent, ils sont pleins de joie. Il se réjouissent [176r] en ce grand jour en présence de l’empereur, avec politesse et calme. Le souverain est assis et il a en main le sceptre de la royauté, magnifique à voir. Sont gravées à l’arrière du sceptre deux croix en or, incrustées de pierres et de perles brillantes de blancheur. Il est écrit sur le sceptre «Gloire à Dieu dans les cieux, que la paix soit sur la terre et le bonheur parmi les hommes.» Il est aussi écrit: «Reconnaissance à Dieu qui nous a gratifiés de la véritable foi, qu’Il nous renforce dans la souveraineté et le pouvoir. Il a élevé le flambeau de la vraie foi par la force de la croix de notre Seigneur le Messie. Il a établi les souverains des croyants à l’occident et à l’orient de la terre, dans les îles de la mer océane, ainsi que leurs fonctions. A Lui la gloire, la grandeur et les honneurs pour l’abondance de ces grâces». Il est écrit sur le sceptre de l’empereur en style byzantin ce qui vient d’être expliqué. Ce sceptre est dans la main droite du souverain et dans la gauche, il tient une bougie dorée qui brûle. Puis chacun de ceux présents vient et dit en grec aḥirsṭūs an.s.tī(Χριστός Ανέστη) ce qui signifie «Le Messie est ressuscité». Et l’empereur répond alītūsaḥ.tī(Αληθώς Ανέστη), ce qui signifie «En vérité, il est apparu». Il se lève ensuite et sort. Il a le sceptre dans la main droite et sur l’épaule du même côté et [il tient] le cierge dans la main gauche. Les grands des troupes et de l’armée viennent à sa rencontre. [176v] Il s’assied dans la première salle du palais. Tous s’avancent selon leur rang, groupe par groupe. Ils baisent le sol devant lui, les ambassadeurs des rois se tenant debout devant lui, à gauche et à droite. Le premier de droite est un roi chrétien et le premier de gauche est un envoyé du calife88 d’Egypte, d’autres les suivent selon l’importance de leur rang. Paragraphe. On prétend que la moyenne de ce qui est transporté dans les magasins du roi, quotidiennement, monte à trente-huit qinṭārd’or et d’argent, sans que l’on en donne le détail. On rapporte aussi que le nombre d’ovins égorgés chaque jour est de six mille hormis ce qui est dépensé pour la réception des envoyés dépêchés à Constantinople. Le nombre de bains en fonctionnement est de quatre mille. Les changeurs s’élèvent sept mille. La longueur de la ville de Constaninople équivaut à celle qui va de la pointe de Ṭābiyaal-ṭāhira89jusque 88

L’expression situe l’événement sous les Fāṭimides. Littéralement “pure terre damée”, lieu-dit au Caire que nous n’avons pu localiser avec précision, v. al-Maqrīzī, Al-mawā‘iẓwa-l-i‘tibārfīdhikral-khiṭaṭwa-l-athār, A. Fu’ad Sayyid (éd.) (London, 2002), IV, p. 557. 89

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vers le monastère d’al-Ṭīn90, à l’étang (birkat) al-Ḥabash91, à l’arrière de Miṣr. Constantinople est l’extrémité de la péninsule de l’Andalus, elle est comme une gourde (karnīb) par sa forme92. Le qinṭār byzantin vaut sept mille deux cents mithqāl. La population de Constantinople boit le vin avec de l’eau chaude, ils ne peuvent pas boire de l’eau froide à cause du froid [177r] permanent de leur pays. Tous les juifs habitent dans une vaste presqu’île (jazīrat) qui fait face à Constantinople et ils ne font la traversée que pour des raisons liées à leur subsistance. Ils retournent ensuite dans leur presqu’île à l’aide d’embarcations, pas un ne passe jamais la nuit en ville93. Lorsqu’un souverain byzantin est fait empereur (malik), il porte la couronne, en présence de tous les habitants des régions où se trouve du marbre. Chacun d’eux porte une plaque de marbre de la couleur de celui qu’il a chez lui. Le coloré est le plus splendide qui soit. Tous les marbres sont montrés au souverain et il y choisit la couleur qu’il désire. Il fait venir ceux qui apportèrent cette sorte de marbre et il leur ordonne de rassembler avec soin cette sorte selon la quantité qu’il leur indique. Il ne leur impose pas de faire des dépenses pour cela de leur côté mais il leur ordonne d’être d’une vigilance totale dans la réalisation de la demande impériale. Cette anectode (al-qawl) est rapportée pour chaque souverain chaste, qui s’avance sur la route de la justice et de l’humilité. La largeur de leur pays est une distance de quinze mois [de marche]. Chaque souverain se fait précéder par un clerc, un prêtre ou un diacre complet ou un sousdiacre (būdyāqanpour hypodiakonos/υποδιάκονος) de sorte que personne ne le précède outre le clerc dans la réception de la pure eucharistie, de même qu’il pose la main sur la tête du patriarche lors de sa présentation, alors que le clergé est derrière lui. [177v] A Constantinople, il y a une mosquée dont ‘Umar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb demanda la construction au début de son califat pour les musulmans, de la grandeur d’une peau de taureau. Il força l’empereur de jurer de le faire selon ce principe, ce qu’il accepta. Il prit exprès une peau qu’il coupa très finement pour atteindre un grand nombre de coudées de longueur, et la mosquée fut construite à cette dimension94. 90 Le dayr al-Tin était aussi connu comme le monastère de Mar Ḥannā ou Mār Yūḥannā, J.-C. Ducène, “Les monastères égyptiens dans les sources artabes médiévales”, Cahiersd’Etudes coptes13 (2015): 137-152, spc. p. 143. 91 Cet étang était au sud du Caire, J. Maspero et G. Wiet, Matériauxpourserviràlagéographiedel’Egypte(Le Caire, 1919), p. 38. 92 En considérant que l’Andalus désigne non seulement la péninsule ibérique mais toute la péninsule européenne, son extrémité orientale est bien Constantinople. 93 M. N. Adler, TheitineraryofBenjaminofTudela(London, 1907), p. 14; D. Jacoby, “Les quartiers juifs de Constantinople à l’époque byzantine”, Byzantium 37 (1967): 175-189. Leur quartier était situé à Péra, plus exactement en contrebas de la coline du même nom. Il disparaît lors d’un incendie en juillet 1203, provoqué par les croisés suite aux combats qui visent à s’emparer de la tour de Galata. 94 Cette ruse est identique à celle de Didon pour la fondation de Carthage, et se retrouve en particulier également à propos de la mosquée de Constantinople dans l’épopée de Dhū l-Himma.

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On prétend qu’un rebelle byzantin s’opposa à un descendant de l’empereur byzantin, mais il fit preuve de libéralité (litt.: «sa main s’ouvrit») et il tua un grand nombre de Francs. Paragraphe. Dans l’église de Sainte-Sophie précédemment mentionnée il y a le voile (mandīl) sur lequel s’imprima le signe, celui qui apparut sur la serviette avec laquelle notre seigneur le Messie s’essuya le visage. Il fut transporté de l’église d’Edesse lorsque al-Muttaqī li-llāh l’envoya en rançon pour la libération d’un grand nombre de prisonniers musulmans en 331/942. On y trouve aussi les offrandes que présentèrent les mages lors de la naissance du Messie par le corps de la Vierge pure. Il s’agit d’or, de myrrhe et d’encens. Paragraphe. Dans le palais de l’empereur Constantin, dans une église95, on trouve entre autres choses, le marbre sur lequel Nicodème enveloppa d’un linceul le corps du Messie (Jean, 19, 39-42). Il fut transporté de Jérusalem à Ephèse et de là à Constantinople. Il a la longueur d’un corps [178r] pour une hauteur et une largeur d’un coudée. Il y a le bâton de Moïse le Prophète, il est fourchu; il y a aussi les cornes du bélier avec lequel Abraham racheta Isaac (Genèse, 22, 2), et le bassin de marbre dans lequel le grand souverain Constantin fut bâptisé où se trouve encore un reste d’eau. On y trouve aussi le bassin dans lequel le Messie lava les pieds de ses disciples, ainsi que le trône du roi. Il y a aussi une grotte où sont les livres des secrets de Clément (Aqlimus) [d’Alexandrie], dans un coffre. Leur appellation est (ismā’hu?) «l’arche de la seconde alliance». Tous ces livres sont enveloppés dans l’essui avec lequel notre Seigneur s’essuya (mutazarran), au moment où il lava les pieds de ses disciples dans la salle des festin de Sion, le Grand jeudi (soit le jeudi saint). On enveloppa les livres du bandeau (sabtiya) qu’il avait sur la tête dans le tombeau. On y trouve aussi les linceuls qui étaient sur le Christ ainsi que le vêtement qu’on avait mis sur lui, de même que le manteau de pourpre et l’éponge qui fut trempée dans le vinaigre et le fiel (Marc, 15, 17 et 36), les cordes qui le lièrent au bois [de la croix], le bois et la lance (qaṣaba) avec laquelle on le brisa. On prétend dans un autre manuscrit que tout ce qui a été mentionné ici a été transporté de Constantinople à Rome. L’histoire d’alṬabarī96 précise que l’empereur Maurice fut tué par les Byzantins et que son fils se réfugia chez Chosroès, l’empereur iranien. Il le renvoya et le remis sur le trône. Il dépêcha avec lui trois de ses compagnons et des membres proches de son armée afin qu’il lui conserve la royauté sur les Byzantins. L’un d’entre eux [178v] fut envoyé en Palestine puis à Jérusalem. Il fit des efforts dans la 95 Il s’agit de l’église de la Théotocos du Phare, C’est Manuel Comnène qui y amène, à la fin de la sa vie, la pierre de Nicodème, mais elle est déplacée après 1180 pour être réinstallée dans le monastère Pantocrator, près du tombeau de l’empereur, comme témoignage de sa foi, R. Janin, Lagéographieecclésiastiquedel’empirebyzantin.I., pp. 241-245. 96 Al-Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh al-umam wa-l-mulūk (Beyrout, 1992), I, p. 466. Le découvreur de la Vraie croix chez al-Ṭabarī s’appelle Ramyūzān. L’envoi de la cette relique à Constantinople par Būrān provient aussi d’al-Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, loc. cit.

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recherche du bois de la croix. Il le découvrit. Il avait été déposé dans un coffre d’or, celui-ci enfoui dans un jardin et on avait semé dessus un potager. Il dégagea la terre du coffre d’or et l’envoya à Chosroès en l’an 24 de son règne. Règna après lui Būrān, fille de Chosroès Anūshirwān, fils de Hurmuz, fils de Chosroès Anūshirwān. Elle l’envoya à l’empereur de Constantinople en compagnie d’un catholicos, choisi parmi ses compagnons. Il y a une église97 au bord de la Méditerranée où se trouve la croix de la crufixion (ṣalībal-ṣalbūt), illustre, dans un reliquaire d’or. Elle est complète en longueur, [le coffre] est planté dans une anfractuosité de l’église. On y trouve aussi l’eau et le sang qui sortirent du flanc du Seigneur sur la croix, ils sont dans un récipient en cristal, conservé dans un reliquaire en or, rehaussé de pierres précieuses. Abū l-Ḥāṭī Sophronios (Ṣufrūniyus) (m. 1171), le patriarche melkite, m’a rapporté, lors de son voyage à Constantinople98, sous le califat d’al-‘Āḍid (m. 1171), qu’il avait observé le sang dans un flacon. C’est un sang liquide, qui n’est pas solidifié. Ce flacon se trouve dans un coffret d’or, rehaussé de pierreries. Les clous avec lesquels ils furent cloués (sic) sont dans un reliquaire en or, à l’intérieur d’un coffret en argent, [maintenant] en possession du roi Sārmar al-Faranjī (?). La chronique de Maḥbūb ibn Qusṭanṭīn (m. ca942) témoigne que ces clous et tout cela ont été transportés à Rome. [179r] La couronne d’épines que les maudits juifs mirent sur la tête de notre Seigneur est conservée dans un étui en or, et le fer de lance avec lequel il fut frappé est gardé dans le trésor, enveloppé d’or. Ces objets mystérieux et ces trésors sont montrés dans une église byzantine (bī‘a rūmiya) trois jours par an, le premier étant le jour glorieux de Pâques et les deux suivants. Leur exposition donne lieu à une grande gloire, à de la joie, à de l’allègresse et des invocations qui dépassent la description. Lorsque le souverain fidèle part en expédition militaire, il prend avec lui certains de ces trésors et remporte la victoire sur ses ennemis. Dans le palais de Constantin Ier, il y a une chapelle pour la prière quotidienne et nocturne du souverain. Paragraphe. On rapporte que Constantin, l’empereur fidèle, lorsqu’il s’évertua, à l’époque de son règne, à redécouvrir ces trésors et ces reliques sacrés. Il les fit sortir des trésors royaux et des lieux cachés avec astuce et acharnement. Il fit transporter le tout au palais royal. Il plaça chaque objet, quelle qu’en ait été la nature, dans un reliquaire parfaitement réalisé, décoré d’ivoire pur, d’ébène et de marbre coloré. Ce trésor était dans des écrins dorés, rehaussés de pierres précieuses. Devant chaque coffret, il y a des lampes et des cierges qui brûlent jour et nuit dans la chapelle à l’intérieur du palais impérial.

97 Il s’agit de l’église de la Théotocos du Phare, R. Janin, La géographie ecclésiastique de l’empirebyzantin.I., pp. 241-245. 98 Sophronios III est à Constantinople à la fin de l’année 1161 puisqu’il y assiste au mariage, le 25 décembre 1161 de Manuel Comnène avec al fille du duc d’Antioche, Raimond, U. Zanetti, U., “Abū l-Makārim et Abū Ṣāliḥ”, p. 123.

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Paragraphe. Le nombre de monastère que l’on trouve là, à la fin de l’année 536/1141, qui est la onzième année [179v] du califat d’al-Ḥāfiẓ (r. 1130-1149), sans compter les églises, est innombrable. Mais les monastères utilisés et habités par des moines et des moniales sont au nombre de trois mille à Constantinople et dans ses provinces. On rapporte que le nombre [de monastères] en ville spécialement est de trois cents et cinquante pour les femmes. Il y a des églises fréquentées par une grande foule et des prêtres au nombre de sept mille à l’intérieur des murs. A l’extérieur des murs, à sa proximité, la population de la ville sort vers eux à chaque moment. Ils assistent à la prière et aux eucharisties et ils retournent [à la ville]. La majorité des églises est dédiée à la Vierge Marie. Paragraphe. Description de l’église de Sophie que nous avons déjà évoquée elle possède trois cent soixante portes, dont les mentions sont célèbres dans les descriptions géographiques (fīl-mudunwa-l-aqālīm). Il y en a notamment deux qui s’ouvrent vers l’ouest, et sur chacune, il y a une double porte en argent massif, sans [aucun morceau] de bois. Au centre de l’édifice, il y a une très haute coupole soutenue par des pilliers construits avec des voûtes, d’une construction parfaite au regard de la réalisation et de l’architecture. On rapporte que le grandeur de la partie basse de cette coupole fait cent soixante brasses. Elle est très élevée et on n’en voit nulle pareille en grandeur et en hauteur ailleurs dans le monde. Le cercle de la coupole repose sur quatre-vingt arcs qui possède chacun une poutre [recouverte] d’argent. A l’intérieur se trouve une cuvette (zubdiya) en cristal. Le tout est suspendu par trois [180r] chaînes d’argent à un anneau du même métal et des ceintures (minqāṭ?) de soie. A l’intérieur de la cuvette, il y a des lampes avec une mèche qui brûle. L’autel est à l’intérieur de la partie centrale (askanā, pour σκηνη, «tabernacle, scène»?). C’est une plaque d’or pur, étendue sur tout l’autel, supportée par quatre colonnes d’argent. La nappe de l’autel est un brocart précieux, tout incrusté de nombreuses perles brillantes, blanches et bigarrées. A l’extérieur de l’askanā, il y a douze grandes cuvettes en cristal suspendues que l’on allume lors des grandes fêtes. A cet endroit, on voit une représentation de la Dame; à droite et à gauche, sont les anges Michaël et Gabriel99. Au devant, se trouve une grande plaque d’or, incrustée de pierres précieuses. Il y a aussi une sacristie (al-khizāna) où est conservée la vaisselle qui appartient à l’église, comme les coupes, les coupes en porcelaine, les crédences, les calices (qarārīb?) en or, en argent, des croix ainsi que des encensoirs inestimables. Cette pièce a un certain nombre de couloirs illuminés artificiellement. Cette sacristie possède également un élégant reliquaire en or remarquablement réalisé, avec une fermeture en argent. Il recèle l’avant-bras du martyr Bandālāws, et son sang est 99 La représentation de Marie en Théotokos, correspond à la mosaïque de la Vierge à l’enfant qui se situe dans la demi-coupole de l’abside, tandis que les deux archanges étaient représentés sur la béma.

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dans un flacon (fuqqā‘a) de verre depuis son martyre. Du sang et de l’eau sortirent de son cou, et des croyants en mirent dans un flacon et placèrent l’avant-bras à l’intérieur du reliquaire. Sa fête tombe le 17 juillet (tammūz), [180v] moment où on sort le coffre et on l’ouvre afin que les pélerins captent des bénédictions de cet avant-bras. On lui portent notamment des ex-voto et des tissus de soie. C’est ce que m’a rapporté Sophronios (Ṣufrūniyūs) (m. 1171), le patriarche melkite d’Alexandrie, lors de son voyage d’Egypte à Constantinople. On mentionne également qu’il y a les douze paniers que réunirent les disciples où se trouvait le surplus du partage [des pains] (Math., 14, 20-21; Marc, 6, 42-44; Luc, 9, 15-17; Jean, 6, 14). On dit que l’étendue (masīrahā) de Constantinople est de quinze jours [de marche]. Se dressent à Constantinople deux colonnes de marbre blanc creusées, dont on ne voit pas le travail de perforation. On y descend par des marches et on y trouve deux prison (ḥabs). Dans chacune d’entre elles, il y a une. Une colonne se situe à l’est de l’église, l’autre à l’ouest. On extrait le marbre blanc de la montagne qui est en face de la ville. C’est dans l’église de Sainte-Sophie qu’est couronné le souverain qui régne sur les Byzantins, au-dessus de l’ambon, qui est le minbar de la Grande Eglise. Il est installé en son milieu. Lorsque la prière est achevée et que la couronne est ceinte, le prêtre dit en byzantin ce qui se rend en arabe par «Gloire à Dieu dans les cieux et que la paix soit sur la terre, et la joie parmi les hommes». L’église des douze apôtres, que l’on appelle al-Faraḥa, contient le tombeau de Constantin le roi croyant dans un vaisseau de granite inviolable pourpre, avec un couvercle identique, parfaitement réalisé et il est élevé au-dessus du sol [181r]. Tout autour se trouvent les tombeaux des souverains qui lui ont succédé. IV. PLAN ET NATURE DE L’INFORMATION Il est évident que le matériel réuni est hétérogène et ne se développe pas de manière réfléchie, il n’y a pas de transition d’une thématique à l’autre. L’auteur a juxtaposé des éléments réunis au cours de ses lectures, voire de conversations. On pourrait dire qu’il compile des fiches. Il aborde ainsi successivement grossomodola fondation de la ville par Constantin et son siège sous Chosroès Anūshirwān, la conquête latine de la ville en 920 de l’ère des Martyrs/1204 et son pillage. Suit une énumération d’églises dont le choix est dicté par les légendes, les miracles dont elles furent le théâtre ou les reliques qu’elles possèdent, en commençant par celle de Sainte-Sophie. L’aspect compilatoir de l’ouvrage est ici flagrant car Abū l-Makārim revient plus loin sur le même sujet et, en outre, alors qu’il sait que Sofia désigne la sagesse de Dieu, il relie cette église avec le martyre de Sophie et ses filles. Si le matériel rassemblé est hétéroclite, on perçoit néanmoins comme dominante que la ville est chrétienne et

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le siège d’un pouvoir chrétien — certes pour l’instant affaibli — qui se montre dans un apparat luxueux. Abū l-Makārim va chercher ses notices au sein de trois types de sources, chronologiquement distinctes. Il y d’abord les sources écrites anciennes comme la chronique de Maḥbūb ibn Qusṭanṭīn (Agapius de Manbij), l’Histoirede Thabīt ibn Qurra, celle d’al-Ṭabarī. Toujours comme source écrite mais concernant l’hagiographie, il y a le qaṭāmaros, καθημερινος, ou lectionnaire de l’église copte. Quand il décrit Sainte-Sophie, il fait allusion à une description écrite, laissée par un témoin oculaire. Ensuite, l’auteur se réfère à plusieurs reprises à des éléments datés ou datables du XIIe siècle, comme le nombre de monastères à Constantinople en 536/1141, ce que le patriarche melkite Sophronios (m. 1171) a dit à son retour de Constantinople à propos des reliques. Toujours datables de l’époque fatimide est la mention de la présence d’un envoyé du calife d’Egypte lors du couronnement et à des cérémonies présidées par l’empereur à Constantinople. Enfin, il y a cette allusion extraordinaire à la prise de Constantinople par les Francs et à son pillage dont une partie des biens volés se retrouvent en Egypte, du fait même des Latins, mais qui tranche tellement avec la tonalité «impériale» du reste du texte qu’elle pourrait être effectivement un ajout d’un copiste ultérieur. L’aspect chrétien de la ville se marque par le nombre de monastères et d’églises, avec en premier lieu Sainte-Sophie, qui l’emporte par sa grandeur et sa magnificence, mais d’autres sanctuaires plus modestes sont notés pour leur histoire, leur fondateur ou leur icône miraculeuse. Cependant le sacré se matérialise surtout par le nombre remarquable de reliques, avec en premier lieu celles qui touchent directement au Christ, comme la Vraie croix ou le mandylion. A ce propos, Abū l-Makārim est l’un des rare à nous transmettre la notice extraite de l’Histoire perdue de Thābit ibn Sinān (m. 365/975) sur la provenance du mandylion, mais il hésite en revanche sur son lieu de conservation, situé à Sainte-Sophie et au Palais. Or, on sait que le mandylion fait son entrée à Constantinople en 944 pour être placé d’abord à la Chalkè et puis à l’église du phare100. Les énumérations101 de reliques d’Abū l-Makārim peuvent être mises en rapport avec celles de Robert de Clari et d’Antoine de Novgorod, car elles leur sont contemporaines. Abū l-Makārim situe à Sainte-Sophie: – le mandylion, – les offrandes des mages; 100

P. Magdalino, “L’église du phare et les reliques de la passion à Constantinople (VIIe/VIIIeXIII siècles)”, in J. Durand et B. Flusin (éds), ByzanceetlesreliquesduChrist(Paris, 2004), p. 24; H. A. Klein, “Sacred relics and imperial ceremonies at the Great Palace of Constantinople”, p. 92. 101 R. Janin, Lagéographieecclésiastiquedel’empirebyzantin.I, p. 244; Robert de Clari, La conquêtedeConstantinople, p. 62 et pp. 68-69. e

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à la chapelle du Palais: – – – – – – – – –

la pierre de Nicodème102, le bâton de Moïse, les cornes du bélier d’Abraham, les fonds baptismaux de Constantin, le bassin dans lequel le christ lava les pieds de ses disciples, le trône de l’empereur, l’essui utilisé par le Christ lors du lavement des pied, le bandeau de tête, les linceuls, le manteau de pourpre du Christ, les cordes et le bois de la croix, l’éponge et la lance mentionnés lors de la passion;

à la chapelle du Phare: – – – – –

la Vraie croix, une ampoule avec le sang du Christ, les clous, la couronne d’épines, la lance.

Les répétitions et les doublons suggèrent qu’Abū l-Makārim s’est servi de sources d’époques différentes et n’a pas tenté d’harmoniser le résultat final. Des témoignages contemporains montrent cependant que le foisonnement de reliques était réel et que cela allait de paire avec un flottement dans les localisations et les identifications que l’esprit de dévotion entretenait malgré lui. Néanmoins, les énumérations d’Antoine de Novgorod103 tombent en gros d’accord avec celles du religieux égyptien. Il situe également les vases contenant les cadeaux des mages à Sainte-Sophie, les reliques plutôt vétérotestamentaires comme le bâton avec lequel Moïse ouvrit la mer Rouge et les cornes du bélier d’Abraham dans l’église palatine, et finalement les reliques de la passion ainsi que le mandylion dans la chapelle de la Sainte Mère de Dieu, du Phare. Quant à Robert de Clari104, il précise que la Sainte chapelle du palais de «Bouche de Lion» (soit le palais du Boucoleon) recelait deux morceaux de la croix, le fer de la lance qui perça le Christ, deux clous de la croix, une fiole de son sang, la tunique dont le Christ se dévêtit lorsqu’il monta au calvaire, la couronne d’épines, ainsi qu’un habit de la Vierge Marie et la tête de Jean-Baptiste. Robert de Clari mentionne aussi un reliquaire suspendu contenant une «toile» 102

P. Magdalino, “L’église du phare et les reliques de la passion à Constantinople (VIIe/VIIIeXIII siècles)”, p. 25, la pierre de la Déposition aurait été déposée à l’église du Phare en11691170 par Manuel Ier Comnène. 103 M. Ehrhard, “Le livre du pèlerin d’Antoine de Novgorod”, Romania58 (1932): 44-65, stt, pp. 49-60. 104 Robert de Clari, LaconquêtedeConstantinople, p. 62 et pp. 68-69. e

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qui portait les traits du Christ mais dont l’origine était différente du mandylion puisque le Christ était apparu à un homme et lui avait demandé un tissu pour s’essuyer le visage, et l’homme était reparti avec le tissu qui se révéla miraculeux. Cependant, il situe dans le monastère Sainte Marie des Blachernes le «sydoines (soit le «suaire») là où notre Sire fu enveloppés» et qui tous les vendredis était montré et où on pouvait voir le visage du Christ, mais il ajoute «ne ne seut on onques, ni Grieu ne François, que cist sydoines devint qaunt la ville fu prise», le mandylion ou le suaire disparut donc. Enfin, il localise dans l’église de l’Apostoleion la pierre sur laquelle il fut étendu à la descente de la croix. Selon Abū l-Makārim, ces objets sont exposés trois jours, à partir du jour de Pâques, mais il sait que certaines reliques ont été emmenées par les Latins105, à moins que cette remarque soit aussi à mettre sur le compte d’un copiste ultérieur. Le pouvoir est ici chrétien, et cela depuis la fondation même de la ville qui est présentée comme l’acte d’un converti zélé, Constantin, et depuis lors ce pouvoir fort et chrétien se montre publiquement dans un faste à la hauteur de ses prétentions impériales. En effet, Abū l-Makārim s’arrête sur sa titulature, dont la traduction arabe, al-malikal-‘aẓīmal-ẓābiṭ, trouve un parallèle étonnant avec le grec, Basileusautokrator. Mais le titre sans le couronnement et les insignes106 du pouvoir n’est rien, et l’auteur de s’arrêter sur la cérémonie qui a lieu à SainteSophie et qui nous montre l’empereur couronné par le patriarche sur l’ambon. De la description, il apparaît que des trois couronnes portées par les empereurs, à savoir le diadème, la couronne et la tiare, il s’agit bien ici de la couronne du couronnement. S’ensuit un banquet au Grand Palais. L’empereur préside aussi au Grand palais une cérémonie le jour de Pâques où il trône portant la couronne et ayant en main un sceptre, dont les inscriptions gecques nous sont données en traduction, alors que les formules échangées sont correctement retranscrites en arabe. Son interlocuteur lui dit aḥirsṭūsan.s.tīpour Χριστός Ανέστη «Christ est rescucité» et l’empereur répond alītūsaḥ.tīpour Αληθώς Ανέστη, «En vérité, il est apparu». Toutefois, si cette ville est principalement chrétienne, les juifs et les musulmans s’y retrouvent aussi, les juifs sont cantonnés à un quartier alors que les musulmans disposent d’une mosquée107, mais dont la fondation nous est relatée sous la forme de l’anecdote. 105 G. Majeska, “The relics of Constantinople after 1204”, in J. Durand et B. Flusin (éds), ByzanceetlesreliquesduChrist(Paris, 2004), p. 184; B. Flusin, “Les reliques de la sainte Chapelle et leur passé impérial à Constantinople”, dans J. Durand et M.-P. Lafitte (éd.), LetrésordelaSainte Chapelle(Paris, 2001), p. 20-33. 106 G. Dagron, Empereuretprêtre(Paris, 1996), p. 74-75, p. 112-116 et p. 224. 107 Gl. D. Anderson, “Islamic spaces and diplomacy in Constantinople (tenth to tirthteenth centuries C.E.)”, MedievalEncounters15 (2009): 86-113.

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V. CONCLUSION Quoique la notice d’Abū l-Makārim manque de cohérence, elle est riche d’une information qui reflète les intérêts de l’auteur et sans doute de l’église melkite d’Egypte du début du XIIIe siècle. Constantinople apparaît ainsi aux yeux d’Abū l-Makārim comme une ville où s’incarne le pouvoir byzantin et ceci depuis Constantin, bien que le texte en l’état témoigne que les Francs viennent de conquérir et de piller la ville, et y exercent encore le pouvoir. Cet aspect contemporain est cependant noyé dans l’évocation de rituels impériaux byzatins. L’empereur nous est montré couronné à SainteSophie et fêtant Pâque avec éclat. Quant à la ville de Constantinople, c’est avant tout comme ville chrétienne qu’elle apparaît par sa fondation, par ses églises et ses monastères, ainsi que par la présence de nombreuses reliques. Comparée à d’autres descriptions arabes108 de la ville, celle d’Abū l-Makārim met naturellement l’accent sur les aspects qui étaient en adéquation avec son appartenance religieuse, communautaire et sociale, plus que politique. Al-‘Umarī109, par exemple, qui écrit un siècle plus tard, se focalise sur le reliquat symbolique de la puissance politique de Constantinople, alors qu’il faut attendre Ibn alSabbāḥ110 pour que des reliques conservées à Sainte-Sophie soient mentionnées par un auteur musulman. JEAN-CHARLES DUCÈNE EPHE

108 A. Berger, “Sightseeing in Constantinople: Arab travellers, c. 900-1300”, in R. Macrides (ed.), TravelintheByzantineWorld(Aldershot, 2000), pp. 179-194. 109 Al-‘Umarī, Masālikal-abṣārfîmamālikal-amṣār(Abū Ẓābī, 2003), III, pp. 396-412. 110 Al-Ḥāj ‘Abd Allāh ibn al-Ṣabbāḥ, Ansābal-akhbārwa-tadhkiraal-akhyār, M. Bensharīfa (éd.) (Rabat, 2008), pp. 207-209.

MANIPULATING DREAMS: IBN ῾ASĀKIR’S USE OF DREAM IN HIS BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF IBN AL-MUBĀRAK Within his voluminous Ta᾿rīkh madīnatDimashq, Ibn ῾Asākir (d. 1176) lavishes attention upon the eighth-century ascetic and ghāzī, the Khurāsānī ῾Abd Allāh b. al-Mubārak (d. 797).1 Aside from the basic quantitative information — onomastic, chronological, geographical, etc. — Ibn ῾Asākir includes a great deal of additional material of a more subjective and anecdotal nature, which may be termed “qualitative material”. This material ranges from praise statements attributed to other prominent eighth- and ninth-century scholars — which are essentially generic — through descriptions of Ibn al-Mubārak’s piety, his learning, and his military ability, and concluding with a series of dreams. Ibn ῾Asākir was by no means the first to write a biographical notice of Ibn al-Mubārak. The biographical tradition of Ibn al-Mubārak dates from the ninth century onwards, and is particularly expansive: whilst the edition of the Ta᾿rīkh madīnatDimashq lists only an additional eleven sources in which Ibn al-Mubārak appears, Muṣṭafā ῾Abd al-Qādir ῾Aṭā’s edition of the Ta᾿rīkhBaghdād lists some forty-four sources in which Ibn al-Mubārak is mentioned.2 Although some of these notices provide no biographical information, the vast majority of them do: even discounting those which provide no information, this list is still too great to be meaningfully discussed here. In any case, many of the shorter notices, particularly those from the ninth century, tend to be perfunctory and provide only the barest of information, which is essentially the same across all of them: his kunya was Abū ῾Abd al-Raḥmān, he was a mawla of the Banū Ḥanẓala, and he died in the year 797.3 The notable exception to this is found in the Kitāb ṭabaqātal-kabīr of Ibn Ṣa῾d (d. 845): “῾Abd Allāh b. al-Mubārak: his kunya is Abū ῾Abd al-Raḥmān. He was born in the year 118/736 and pursued knowledge, relating many narrations. He composed many books on the categories and classes of knowledge, which people related from him, and people wrote them down from them. He composed poetry about asceticism and 1 Ibn ῾Asākir, Ta᾿rīkh madīnat Dimashq, ed. Muhibb al-Dīn Abī Sa῾īd ῾Umar b. Gharāma al-῾Amrawī, volumes I-LXXX (Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 1995-2001), XXXII: 396-484, no. 3555. 2 Al-Khaṭīb al-Baghdādī, Ta᾿rīkhBaghdādawmadīnatal-salām, ed. Muṣṭafā ῾Abd al-Qādir ῾Aṭā, volumes I-XXI (Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-῾Ilmiyya, 1997), X: 151-52. 3 See for example: ῾Alī b. ῾Abd Allāh al-Madīnī, Kitāb al-῾ilal, ed. Muḥammad Muṣṭafā al-A῾zamī (Beirut: al-Maktab al-Islamī, 1972): 40; Khalīfa b. Khayyāt, Kitābal-ṭabaqāt, ed. Akram Ḍiyā᾿ al-῾Umarā (Baghdad: Maṭba῾at al-῾Ānī, 1967): 323; al-Bukhārī,Kitābal-ta᾿rīkhal-kabīr, ed. Muḥammad ῾Abd al-Mu῾īd Khān, volumes I-IV (Hyderabad: Maṭba῾at Jamī῾at Dā᾿irat al-Ma῾ārif al-῾Uthmāniyya, 1942-1972): III: 212.

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encouragement for jihād. He went to Iraq, the Ḥijāz, al-Shām, Egypt and Yemen; he heard a great amount of knowledge. He was trustworthy and a reliable imām, an authority of many ḥadīth. He died at Hīt whilst departing from the ghazw in the year 181/797; he was sixty-three years old.”4

In this way, Ibn Ṣa῾d was the first to stress Ibn al-Mubārak’s reputation as both an ascetic and ghāzī. Beginning in the tenth century, these two aspects of his persona became subject to increasing development through the incorporation of additional qualitative material.5 That this qualitative material begins to enter the biographical tradition only in the tenth century raises methodological problems, not the least of which is the extent to which the historical reality of Ibn al-Mubārak is recoverable. This can be assuaged by discussing the notices within the context of the biographical tradition as a literary phenomenon independent from the objective facts of a person’s life, and capable of its own independent development. By approaching the biographical tradition from a later perspective the historical Ibn al-Mubārak may recede, but this approach reveals not merely how Ibn al-Mubārak came to be regarded after his death, but also the self-perceptions of later generations and how they sought to shape and create their group identities through the manipulation of the images of their forebears. Although the biographical tradition of Ibn al-Mubārak has been discussed before, most notably by Roberta Denaro,6 Ibn ῾Asākir’s treatment of him has been curiously absent from these discussions. In the case of Denaro’s work, she explores two themes — Ibn al-Mubārak as the prototype of the ‘pious merchant’, and Ibn al-Mubārak as a hajji and as a mujāhid — and argues that it was his jihād activities which were most lauded.7 The absence of Ibn ῾Asākir’s notice from her discussion, however, necessarily distorts her conclusions: although as she notes the first independent report about Ibn al-Mubārak’s practice of jihād 4 Ibn Ṣa῾d, Kitābṭabaqātal-kabīr, ed. ῾Ali Muhammad ῾Umar, volumes I-XI (Cairo: Maktabat al-Khānjī, 2001), IX: 376. 5 Between Ibn Ṣa῾d and Ibn ῾Asākir, there are five longer notices of significance. See Ibn Abī Ḥātim, Kitāb al-jarḥ wa-l-ta῾dīl, volumes I-V (Hyderabad: Maṭba῾at Majlis Dā᾿irat alMa῾ārif al-῾Uthmāniyya, 1952), I: 262-281; and II: 179-180; Ibn Ḥibbān, Kitāb al-thiqāt, ed. Muhammad ῾Abd al-Mu῾id Khan, volumes I-IX (Hyderabad: Matbu῾at Majlis Da᾿irat al-Ma῾arif al-῾Uthmaniyya, 1973-1983), VII: 7-8; Abū Nu῾aym al-Iṣfahānī, Ḥilyatal-awliyā᾿, volumes I-X (Cairo: Maktabat al-Khānjī, 1932-1938), VIII: 162-190; al-Khaṭīb al-Baghdādī, Ta᾿rīkhBaghdād, X:151-168; and Al-Qāḍī ῾Iyāḍ, Tartībal-madārikwa-taqrībal-masālikli-ma῾rifata῾lāmmadhhab Mālik, ed. Aḥmad Bakīr Maḥmūd, volumes I-II (Beirut: Dār Maktabat al-Ḥayāt, 1967), I: 300309. 6 Roberta Denaro, “From Marw to the Ṯuġūr: Ibn al-Mubarak and the Shaping of a Biographical Tradition”, EurasianStudies 7/1-2 (2009): 125-144. See also Michael Bonner,AristocraticViolenceandHolyWar:StudiesintheJihadandtheArab-ByzantineFrontier (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1996), pp. 119-122; and Deborah Tor, ViolentOrder:ReligiousWarfare,Chivalry, andthe῾AyyārPhenomenonintheMedievalIslamicWorld (Würzburg: Ergon Verlag, 2007), pp. 5160. 7 Denaro, “From Marw to the Ṯuġūr”, 138.

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does appear in the notice compiled by al-Khaṭīb al-Baghdādī (d. 1071),8 it was not until Ibn ῾Asākir that this side of Ibn al-Mubārak would be explored in greater detail, through Ibn ῾Asākir’s incorporation of hitherto unattested jihād material. In this way, Ibn ῾Asākir sought to re-frame Ibn al-Mubārak as an exemplary mujāhid. This is made readily apparent at the beginning of the notice: after providing basic biographical information about Ibn al-Mubārak (his name, his connection with Damascus, and his most prominent teachers and students), Ibn ῾Asākir begins the notice proper by quoting two aḥādīth. The first stresses the importance of intention over action: “It used to please us when a Bedouin would come to question the Messenger of God (ṣ). So a Bedouin came and asked him: ‘O Messenger of God! When will the Hour be established?’ Salat was called, and he stood to perform salat, and when he finished his salat, he said: ‘Who is the questioner?’ He said, ‘I am, O Messenger of God.’ He said: ‘And what have you prepared for it?’ He said: ‘I have not prepared much in the way of salat or fasting, but I love God and his Messenger.’ So the Prophet (ṣ) said: ‘A man is with those whom he loves.’ He [Anas b. Mālik] said: ‘I did not see the Muslims be happy with anything after Islam which made them happier than it.’”9

The second, which Ibn ῾Asākir quotes from Ibn al-Mubārak’s Kitābal-jihād, states the following: “The Messenger of God (ṣ) said: ‘There is no soul which dies in a good position with God which would return to the world, having the world and all which is in it, except the martyr who, on seeing the merits of martyrdom, wishes to return so that he might be killed again.’”10

As Fred M. Donner notes, the aḥādīth with which Ibn ῾Asākir opts to begin his biographical notices are often instructive, for these are the first statements provided in khabar form (that is, having both an isnād and matn).11 Donner notes that by placing these aḥādīth in “an especially prominent position, they may serve almost as a motto for the whole biography to follow”.12 This is evidently the case in Ibn ῾Asākir’s notice of Ibn al-Mubārak: these two aḥādīth act as a summa of Ibn al-Mubārak’s conception of jihād, stressing as they do the key point that jihād culminates with martyrdom, and that the intention behind both acts dictates their worthiness.13 By impressing upon his audience 8

Ibid., 135. Ibn ῾Asākir, Ta᾿rīkhmadīnatDimashq, XXXII: 398. 10 Ibid. XXXII: 398; and Ibn al-Mubārak, Kitāb al-jihād, ed. Nazīh Ḥammād (Jedda: Dār al-Maṭbū῾at al-Ḥadītha, n.d.), p. 74. 11 Fred M. Donner, “῾Uthmān and the Rāshidūn Caliphs in Ibn ῾Asākir’s Ta᾿rīkh madīnat Dimashq: a Study in Strategies of Compilation”, in Ibn῾AsākirandEarlyIslamicHistory, ed. James E. Lindsay (Princeton, N.J.: Darwin Press, 2001), pp. 44-61, p. 51. 12 Ibid., 52. 13 See Kenneth A. Goudie, “The Reinvention of Jihād in Twelfth-century al-Shām”, PhD Thesis, University of St Andrews, 2016, pp. 50-69. 9

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the jihād ethos which Ibn al-Mubārak expounds in his Kitābal-jihād: the implication is that Ibn al-Mubārak embodies it. In addition to these two aḥādīth, Ibn ῾Asākir emphasises Ibn al-Mubārak’s role as a mujāhid by incorporating additional jihād material, which can be divided into three types: accounts of Ibn al-Mubārak’s fighting; a jihād poem attributed to Ibn al-Mubārak; and dreams wherein Ibn al-Mubārak posthumously stresses the importance of jihād. It is this last category of material, which will be the focus of the following discussion. Ibn ῾Asākir concludes his notice of Ibn al-Mubārak by quoting a series of twelve dreams. None of the dreams requires special interpretation: they are literal, not symbolic. With the exception of the twelfth dream, Ibn al-Mubārak appears and discusses his fate in the afterlife with various dreamers. Invariably, Ibn al-Mubārak has been afforded a privileged position, which is made abundantly clear in the first four dreams. For instance, in the first dream Ibn al-Mubārak tells the dreamer that: “Muḥammad (ṣ) gave this key to me, and said: ‘I am visiting the Lord, so be my amīn [trusted representative] in Heaven as you were my amīn on the earth’”.14 Likewise, the next two dreams express the near identical sentiment that Ibn al-Mubārak resides “in the ῾Illīyūn [the uppermost heaven], and is one of those who enters [the presence] of God twice daily”.15 The fourth dream merely states that Ibn al-Mubārak was pardoned for his sins.16 Such statements about Ibn al-Mubārak’s high status in the afterlife — including the bold claim that he substituted for the Prophet — serve as a preamble to the subsequent seven dreams, wherein Ibn al-Mubārak explains why he has been rewarded: he explicitly connects his rewards in the hereafter to his earthly deeds. These seven dreams can be divided into two categories: in dreams five to eight, Ibn al-Mubārak tells the dreamers that it was due to his activities on the Muslim-Byzantine frontier that he was absolved his sins and rewarded. In dreams nine to eleven, it is due to his travels: these last three dreams are essentially identical, for in each of them Ibn al-Mubārak simply states that he was forgiven for “his travels”.17 Consequently, the following discussion will focus on dreams five to eight, each of which will be discussed in sequence. a) Dream Five 1. Ibn ῾Asākir ← Abū al-Qāsim Zāhir b. Ṭāhir ← Abū Bakr al-Bayhaqī ← Abū ῾Abd Allāh al-Ḥāfiẓ ← Abū ῾Abd Allāh al-Ṣaffār ← Abū Bakr b. Abī al-Dunyā ← Muḥammad b. ῾Alī b. al-Ḥasan ← Ibrāhīm b. Shumās ← Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ:

14 15 16 17

Ibn ῾Asākir, Ta᾿rīkhmadīnatDimashq, XXXII: 480-481. Ibid., 481. Ibid., 481-482. Ibid., 483-484.

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2. Ibn ῾Asākir ← Abū al-Ḥasan ← Abū al-Najam ← Abū Bakr al-Khaṭīb ← Abū al-Ḥusayn b. Bishrān ← al-Ḥusayn b. Ṣafwān ← Abū Bakr b. Abī al-Dunyā ← Muḥammad b. ῾Alī b. al-Ḥasan ← Ibrāhīm b. alAsh῾ath ← Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ: 3. Ibn ῾Asākir ← Abū Muḥammad b. Ṭāwūs ← Abū al-Ghanā᾿im b. Abī ῾Uthmān ← Abū al-Ḥusayn b. Bishrān ← al-Ḥusayn b. Ṣafwān ← Abū Bakr b. Abī al-Dunyā ← Muḥammad b. ῾Alī b. al-Ḥasan ← Ibrāhīm b. al-Ash῾ath ← Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ: I saw Ibn al-Mubārak in a dream, and so I said to him: ‘Which deed (in the ḥadīth of Ibn Ṣafwān: ‘deeds’) do you find best?’ He said: ‘The matter in which I was engaged.’ I said: ‘Ribāṭ and jihād?’ He said: ‘Yes.’ I said: ‘So what has He done with you?’ (in the ḥadīth of al-Ṣaffār: ‘what has your Lord done with you?’)’ He said: ‘He pardoned me for sin after sin (in the ḥadīth of Ibn Ṣafwān: ‘and subsequent sins’), and a woman from the People of the Garden spoke to me, or a woman from the ḥūr al-῾ayn.’18 Ibn ῾Asākir provides three asānīd for dream five, through which he simultaneously transmits two variants: these may be described as the ḥadīth of Ibn Ṣafwān (d. 951) and the ḥadīth of al-Ṣaffār (d. 951) respectively. Both of these scholars were students of Abū Bakr b. Abī al-Dunyā (d. 894), who serves as the common link for all three asānīd. The second and third asānīd both branch with Abū al-Ḥusayn b. Bishrān (d. 1024), who transmitted to al-Khaṭīb al-Baghdādī and Abū al-Ghanā᾿im b. Abī ῾Uthmān (d. 1071). The ḥadīth of Ibn Ṣafwān is found verbatim in the Ta᾿rīkhBaghdād,19 and also in Abū Bakr b. Abī alDunyā’s Kitābal-manām, which survives in a unique manuscript: it is in this work that the earliest written record of Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ’s dream of Ibn al-Mubārak is preserved.20 Ibn Abī al-Dunyā’s version of the dream is closest to that of his student Ibn Ṣafwān, which suggests that Ibn Ṣafwān’s is the most accurate transmission. Regardless, the differences between the two variants are essentially semantic, and have no impact on the content or meaning of the dream. The dream is unsophisticated and requires no special interpretation to understand its meaning. It serves the dual function of impressing upon the dreamer (and subsequent recipients of the dream) the otherworldly rewards for which a pious man may hope, and of offering the dreamer advice as to the deeds or actions he should perform to attain those rewards. In the latter, it conforms to a type of dream wherein the dead answer the questions of the living, which 18

Ibid., 482. Al-Khaṭīb al-Baghdādī, Ta᾿rīkhBaghdād, X: 166. 20 Abū Bakr b. Abī al-Dunyā, Kitāb al-Manāmāt ed. ῾Abd al-Qādir Aḥmad ῾Aṭā (Beirut: Mu᾿assasat al-Kutub al-Thaqāfiyya, 1993), pp. 53-54, no. 72. 19

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are commonly variants of ‘what deed have you found most preferable?’21 In this dream, through dialogue, Ibn al-Mubārak reveals that the best deeds are jihād and ribāṭ, and for his performance of them he has been forgiven his sins and rewarded with a woman in the afterlife. The motif of women as heavenly rewards is much like the closeness to God mentioned in the earlier dreams, a common one within Islamic eschatology: indeed, it also appears in Ibn al-Mubārak’s own Kitābal-jihād.22 The women of the ḥūral-῾ayn, also known as ḥawrā᾿, are beautiful women distinguished by their eyes. The imagery here connotes large black eyes like those of gazelles or cows. Perhaps the closest English synonym would be ‘doe-eyed’. The promise of a doe-eyed woman is repeated in dream six. b) Dream Six Ibn ῾Asākir ← Abū al-Qāsim Zāhir b. Ṭāhir ← Abū Bakr al-Bayhaqī ← Abū ῾Abd Allāh al-Ḥāfiẓ ← Abū al-Qāsim al-Ḥasan b. Muḥammad b. Ḥabīb al-Mufassar ← Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. Muḥammad b. Yaḥyā ← Muḥammad b. Isḥāq al-Thiqafī ← Ibrāhīm ← ῾Abd al-Raḥmān b. ῾Affān ← Muḥammad b. b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ: I saw Ibn al-Mubārak in a dream, and so I said to him: ‘O ῾Abd Allāh b. al-Mubārak, what has your Lord done with you?’ He said: ‘He pardoned me for sin after sin.’ I said: ‘Why?’ He said: ‘For my recitation of the Qur᾿ān.’ And he made a sign with his hand meaning the ghazw. He said to me: ‘O Muḥammad, verily a ḥawrā᾿ spoke to me today in the Garden.’23 Whilst dream six is obviously closely related to the first dream, it represents an independent tradition: Abū Bakr b. Abī al-Dunyā does not appear as a transmitter, and both the form and content differ. In this dream, Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ asks Ibn al-Mubārak about his fate before he finds out why Ibn al-Mubārak was pardoned: the spiritual reward, ḥūral-῾ayn, appears here almost as an afterthought, being separated from the main body of the tradition by the phrase “qālalī”. Additionally, Ibn al-Mubārak indicates that he was pardoned first for his recitation of the Qur᾿ān, and then merely indicates with a gesture that his activities as a ghāzī played a role: it is implied rather than stated. Dream six does not appear elsewhere in the written record, though it is related through a prestigious isnād: Abū al-Qāsim b. Zāhir b. Ṭāhir (d. 1138) transmitsthe sixth dream to Ibn ῾Asākir from Abū Bakr al-Bayhaqī (d. 1066) from Abū ῾Abd Allāh al-Hākim al-Ḥāfiẓ (d. 1014), both of whom were lauded scholars in their own right. The differences between dreams five and six can 21 For a fuller discussion, see Leah Kinberg, “Interaction between This World and the Afterworld in Early Islamic Tradition”, Oriens 29/30 (1986): 301-302. 22 See for example Ibn al-Mubārak, Kitābal-jihād, 144-145, no. 149. 23 Ibn ῾Asākir, Ta᾿rīkhmadīnatDimashq, XXXII: 483.

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perhaps be understood as accidental errors which entered the tradition due to its oral transmission: the absence of Abū Bakr b. Abī al-Dunyā may suggest that the basic report was in circulation from relatively soon after the death of Ibn al-Mubārak. c) Dream Seven Ibn ῾Asākir ← Abū ῾Abd Allāh al-Ḥusayn b. Aḥmad b. ῾Alī and Abū al-Qāsim Zāhir b. Ṭāhir ← Aḥmad b. Manṣūr b. Khalif ← ‘Abū Bakr al-Jawzaqī ← Abū al-῾Abbās al-Daghūlī ← Muḥammad b. Naṣr b. Hajjāj ← al-Ḥasan b. al-Rabī῾ ← ‘Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ: I saw Ibn al-Mubārak in a dream, and so I said to him: ‘What has He done with you?’ So he said: ‘Goodness.’ So I said to him: ‘Which of the deeds do you find best?’ He said: ‘My purpose: this is in which I died.’ He said: ‘I said: ‘In ḥadīth?’ He said: ‘Ḥadīth are found blameworthy.’”24 With dream seven, the basic form established with the fifth dream and modified by the sixth dream begins to undergo substantial reworking. As with the sixth, this dream is independent from the fifth dream; in terms of form, it is closest to the sixth. Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ asks about Ibn al-Mubārak’s fate and is here told only that God has done ‘goodness’ with him.25 Upon asking which deeds Ibn al-Mubārak finds best, he is informed that the best deed is the one which Ibn al-Mubārak died whilst doing. It is here that the dream makes a significant departure: no explicit reference is made to fighting, only to Ibn al-Mubārak’s final deed. Ibn ῾Asākir, and indeed every biographer of Ibn al-Mubārak, makes clear that he died while he was returning from the ghazw. Hence, anyone with familiarity of Ibn al-Mubārak, upon hearing this dream, would know that Ibn al-Mubārak means fighting. Yet instead, the dream becomes a harsh criticism of ḥadīth, which Ibn al-Mubārak rebukes and finds blameworthy. Both the form and the chain of transmission indicate that it is related to the other dreams. The other dreams transmitted by Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ all allude to fighting, but it is clear that at some point the dream was reworked into a criticism of ḥadīth. When and why this reworking occurred is unclear. d) Dream Eight Ibn ῾Asākir ← Abū Muḥammad b. Ṭāwūs reported ← Abū al-Ghanā᾿im b. Abī ῾Uthmān ← Abū al-Ḥusayn b. Bishrān ← al-Ḥusayn b. Ṣafwān informed ← Abū Bakr b. Abī al-Dunyā ← al-Ḥusayn b. Maḥbūb: 24

Ibid., 483. Lane indicates that “khayr” may be used in an absolute sense to mean “what is desired in all circumstances and by every person”. See Edward Lane, AnArabic-EnglishLexicon, volumes I-VIII. (Beirut: Librairie de Liban, 1968), II: 829. 25

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I heard [from] some of our companions that Ibn al-Mubārak was seen in a dream, and it was said to him: ‘What did your Lord do to you?’ It was said: ‘He pardoned me.’ It was said: ‘For ḥadīth?’ he said: ‘No! For the mountain path, the mountain path.’ He means the mountain path of Byzantium.26 Dream eight makes the most dramatic departure in terms of form, though Ibn Abī al-Dunyā is listed as a transmitter and it is included within his Kitāb al-manām.27 In this dream, however, Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ does not appear, and the matn is transmitted in the passive voice. In keeping with dream seven, Ibn al-Mubārak is asked if it was because of ḥadīth that he was absolved his sins. Although lacking the pejorative tone of dream seven, Ibn al-Mubārak is quick to specify that it was not for ḥadīth but for ‘the mountain path,’ which is explained as referring to the mountain path into Byzantium: Ibn al-Mubārak’s reference to the mountain path can thus be understood as signifying his involvement in raids into Byzantine territory. Before discussing the content of these dreams together, attention should be paid to their asānīd, on the basis of which it can be proposed that dreams five, six, and seven all ostensibly originated with the son of a companion of Ibn al-Mubārak. These dreams are all attributed to Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ, about whom little is known. The longest notice, which is provided by Ibn Ḥibbān, provides only his full name, which was Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ b. Mas῾ūd al-Yarbū῾ī al-Tamīmī, and states that he transmitted from his father, and that Ibrāhīm b. al-Ash῾ath transmitted from him.28 On the basis of onomastic similarity, however, it is possible to identify his father as Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ, whose full name was Abū ῾Alī Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ b. Mas῾ūd b. Bishr. According to his own biographical tradition, Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ was born in Samarqand, was known as “al-Khurāsānī”, “al-Yarbū῾ī”, and “al-Tamīmī”, and taught Ibn al-Mubārak.29 Additionally, Ibn al-Mubārak is praised by Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ in his notices, and Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ by Ibn al-Mubārak in his. Amongst his numerous kunyas, Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ was known as “al-Zāhid”, and his biographical tradition stresses his association with renunciant practices and the performance of the hajj.30 That Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ b. Mas῾ūd was known Ibn ῾Asākir, Ta᾿rīkhmadīnatDimashq, XXXII: 483. Ibn Abī al-Dunyā, Kitābal-Manāmāt, 127, no. 273. 28 Ibn Ḥibbān, Kitābal-thiqāt, IX: 76. 29 See for example Ibn Abī Ḥātim, Kitāb al-jarḥ, III: 73; Ibn ῾Asākir, Ta᾿rīkhmadīnatDimashq, XLVIII: 375-453; al-Dhahabī, Siyara῾lām al-nubalā᾿, ed. Shu῾ayb al Arna᾿ūṭ et al, volumes I-XXV, 11th ed., (Beirut: Mu᾿assasat al-Risāla, 1996), VIII: 421-442. 30 Deborah Tor argues that Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ came to represent the ascetic wing of the protoSunnīs: where Ibn al-Mubārak was the exemplary mujāhid, Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ was the exemplary hajji. For her discussion, see Deborah Tor, “God’s Cleric: al-Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ and the Transition from Caliphal to Prophetic Sunna”, in Islamic Cultures, Islamic Contexts: Essays in Honor of 26 27

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as “Abū ῾Alī” need not weaken the conclusion that he was the father of Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ unduly: Muḥammad may have been a less prestigious son. This would not be the first instance of one of Ibn al-Mubārak’s companion’s sons transmitting about him: in another tradition within the notice, Ibn ῾Asākir explicitly describes Ibrāhīm b. Mahdī as the son of ῾Abd al-Raḥmān b. Mahdī, another of Ibn al-Mubārak’s companions.31 More importantly for the present discussion, it was to Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ that Ibn al-Mubārak sent a jihād poem, quoted by Ibn ῾Asākir: Ibn ῾Asākir states that the poem brought Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ to tears, and caused him to acknowledge the superiority of jihād over his own renunciant practices.32 By having the pre-eminent hajji acknowledge the superiority of jihād, Ibn ῾Asākir seeks to arrogate for Ibn al-Mubārak the religious prestige of Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ. In this context, it seems unlikely that it was a coincidence that both father and son are named in the transmission of the bulk of the jihād material which Ibn ῾Asākir includes. Like the jihād poem, the dreams of Muḥammad b. Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ are attempts to claim for Ibn al-Mubārak the religious prestige of Fuḍayl b. ῾Iyāḍ, in this instance through the praise of his son. Turning to the content of the dreams themselves, it is evident that their thematic unity is somewhat lacking. Only dream five makes explicit reference to fighting: dreams six to eight are more circumspect, to the extent that dreams seven and eight do not mention fighting. It is possible even to argue that dream six is more concerned with the importance of qur᾿ānic recitation, with fighting almost an afterthought: it is only through a gesture that Ibn al-Mubārak’s activities as a ghāzī are indicated. Likewise, dreams seven and eight can be seen more as criticisms of ḥadīthstudy than they are endorsements of fighting: it is only through external knowledge that they can be understood as referring to fighting. The dreams therefore serve as an example in miniature of the importance of juxtaposition to the biographical notice at large. Ibn ῾Asākir’s manipulation is evident in the order in which he presents them: he is the first to gather all of these dreams together, and uses dream five to provide context for the others in order to encourage his audience to understand them all as championing fighting. In doing so, he seeks to impress the importance of fighting on his audience. Ibn al-Mubārak tells the dreamers and, by extension, Ibn ῾Asākir’s audience, that fighting is rewarded with the remission of sins, doe-eyed women, and closeness to God. Dream twelve, with which Ibn ῾Asākir concludes the notice, states that whosoever desires salvation should look to the books of Ibn al-Mubārak:33 given the context, it is likely that Ibn ῾Asākir had in ProfessorPatriciaCrone, eds. Behnam Sadeghi, Asad Q. Ahmed, Adam Silverstein, and Robert Hoyland (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2014), pp. 195-228. 31 Ibn ῾Asākir, Ta᾿rīkhmadīnatDimashq, XXXII: 424. 32 Ibid., 449-450. 33 Ibn ῾Asākir, Ta᾿rīkhmadīnatDimashq, XXXII: 484.

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mind Ibn al-Mubārak’s Kitābal-jihād, a text which Ibn ῾Asākir himself recited in Damascus during the Second Crusade.34 These dreams act as a capstone for Ibn ῾Asākir’s notice of Ibn al-Mubārak, re-emphasising at its conclusion the same point with which Ibn ῾Asākir began his notice: Ibn al-Mubārak was an exemplary mujāhid. Ibn ῾Asākir emphasises Ibn al-Mubārak’s jihād credentials in order to re-frame him as a suitable model for his own contemporaries. It is no coincidence that the first biographical notice of Ibn al-Mubārak to emphasise his military exploits and to present him as the exemplary mujāhid appeared during the so-called Muslim counter-crusade: Ibn ῾Asākir’s re-framing of Ibn al-Mubārak is an example of one of the ways in which Ibn ῾Asākir sought to encourage jihād. KENNETH A. GOUDIE University of St Andrews

34 Ibn ῾Asākir states in his biographical notice of ῾Izz al-Dawla ῾Alī b. Murshid (d. 1151), the older brother of Usāma b. Munqidh (d. 1188), that ῾Izz al-Dawla attended one of his lectures in Damascus, at which Ibn ῾Asākir read part of an unidentified kitābdalā᾿ilal-nubuwwa alongside Ibn al-Mubārak’s Kitābal-jihād. Following the reading, ῾Izz al-Dawla rode to Ascalon where he was martyred in 1151. See ibid., XLIII: 239.

FROM AGHT’AMAR TO ῾AYN DĪWĀR: EVIDENCE FOR A HEAVILY ARMOURED ELITE IN THE 10TH-12TH CENTURY MIDDLE EAST

There is still a widespread impression, not only in the popular imagination but also in parts of the academic world, that Muslim warriors at the time of the Crusades were lightly armoured and in most cases virtually unarmoured. Such troops are presented as standing in contrast to the fully armoured “Crusader knight” who was, it is supposed, almost invariably able to overcome his Muslim opponent in close combat. By extension it is also widely assumed that the ability of Muslim armies to defeat Crusader armies in battle must therefore be due to a superior use of archery, thus fighting “at a distance”, or because sophisticated Muslim tactics were better suited to local climatic conditions. Meanwhile superior Muslim numbers was only true in the sense that Middle Eastern rulers were able to draw upon larger numbers of barely trained auxiliaries. While these three assumed causes contain elements of truth, they have been greatly exaggerated. Furthermore they ignore the existence of fully armoured, well-equipped, highly trained, professional soldiers in most Middle Eastern Islamic states. Such troops formed military elites, which, though small in proportion to the overall size of most Middle Eastern Muslim field armies, had been firmly established in this area long before the arrival of the European Crusaders. It is the purpose of this article to look at evidence for the sort of armour that this elite used, where their tradition of armour originated and how it changed from the 9th to the start of the 13th centuries. In addition to the documentary and archaeological evidence, it will focus upon four important pictorial sources from a frontier region stretching from the eastern marches of the Byzantine Empire, through the disputed territory of Armenia, to Muslim frontier zones in the Jazirah region of what are now north-eastern Syria and northern Iraq. The military role and military-technological traditions of the professional cavalry elite in early Islamic civilization had their origins in the pre-Islamic era, largely in Sassanian Iran and in pre-Turkish, Sughdian Central Asia, but also in the Romano-Byzantine Empire and amongst the more sophisticated Turkish states of the Eurasian steppes. This heritage was consolidated and refined during the early centuries of Islamic history, resulting a highly effective and distinctively Islamic military tradition by the 9th and 10th centuries. This is generally referred to as the ῾Abbāsid military heritage, which continued to play a major role amongst successor states such as the Fāṭimid Caliphate, the Buwayhid sultanates and the minor powers of the Fertile Crescent. It would underpin the military power of the Turkish Seljuq Sultanate and its more fragmented successors, including in the Ayyūbid and Mamlūk Sultanates. By then a Turkish Central

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Asian military tradition had been added to the earlier heritage but was, I believe, less important than is generally believed. In practice later medieval Turco-Mongol military influence was much more obvious in certain frontier regions than it was in the Islamic heartlands of Egypt and the Fertile Crescent. Indeed it can be argued that the resulting post- ῾Abbāsid, Ayyūbid and Mamlūk military heritage provided a foundation for virtually all aspects of the “military cultures” of the Middle Eastern heartland, even of the post-medieval Ottoman Empire — at least until the Ottomans’ attempts at European-style modernisation from the 18th century onwards. DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE Written evidence for fully armoured or “heavy” cavalry in early Islamic armies, including those of the Umayyad Caliphate, is circumstantial rather than direct. Although there are abundant references to the wearing of dir῾ mail armour or hauberks, there are fewer references to the jawshan lamellar cuirass though it was reportedly worn by some Sassanian defenders of Iraq at the time of the Muslim conquest.1 It was also regarded as both expensive2 and being particularly associated with Sughdian Central Asia.3 More problematical is the tannūr, a word stemming from the tanūrigh “oven like” armour of Sassanian asvārān heavy cavalry.4 This form of rigid or barely flexible iron cuirass, worn alone or with a dir῾ hauberk or tijfāf soft armour,5 was reserved for heavily armoured men or for officers, and is mentioned in the context of the mid-7th to mid8th centuries.6 Writing in the later 10th century al-Tha῾ālibī regarded the tannūr minḥadīd or “iron tannur” as a primitive armour used before the invention of the dir῾ mail hauberk.7 Meanwhile descriptive terminology can be equally revealing. One example is al- Balādhurī’s use of the word mudajjaj, “heavily 1 Al-Balādhurī, Kitāb Futūḥ al-Buldān, ed. Michael Jan De Goeje (Leiden, Brill, 1866) pp. 362-3; al-Balādhurī, KitābFutūḥal-Buldān, trans. Philip Khuri Hitti and Francis Clark Murgotten, TheOriginsoftheIslamicState (New York: Columbia University Press, 1916-1924) I: 416. 2 Al-Ṭabarī, Tārīkh al-Rusūl wa-l-Mulūk, ed. Michael Jan De Goeje (Leiden, Brill, 18791901) II: 256, 1889; Nicolaus Fries, DasHeereswesenderAraberzurZeitderOmaijadennach Tabarī (Tübingen: G. Schnürlen, 1921) p. 62. 3 Al-Ṭabarī, Tārīkh, ed. De Goeje, II: 1889. 4 Maurice Lombard, Les Métaux dans l’ancien Monde du Ve au XIe siècle (Paris: Mouton, 1974) pp. 33-4. 5 Al-Ṭabarī, Tārīkh, ed. De Goeje, II: 958, 1406-7, 1517; Fries, DasHeereswesen, 42 & 61. 6 Al-Ṭabarī, Tārīkh, ed. De Goeje, I: 5, II: 2014, also III: 1777 which, though in a 9th century context, seems to refer to earlier period. 7 Thacālibī, al-, Laṭā’if al-Macārif, ed. Ibrāhīm Ibyārī and Ḥasan Kāmil Ṣayrafī (Cairo, Dār Iḥyā᾿ al-Kutub al-ʻArabīya, 1960) p. 8; Thacālibī, al-, Laṭā’if al-Macārif, tr. Clifford Edmund Bosworth, TheLaṭā’ifal-Macārifofal-Thacālibī (Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1968) p. 40.

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armoured” or “slow walking”, when describing armoured troops under Sassanian command in 7th century Iraq.8 Interestingly, ῾Imād al-Dīn al-Iṣfahānī used the same word to describe armoured raiders sent by Saladin in the late 12th century.9 One of the most problematical items of early medieval Islamic armour is the kaff. It was clearly to protect the arm and would presumably only have been worn by fully armoured men. The kaff may have been a gauntlet for the hand, and was said to have been worn together with suwā῾ad (pl. of sā῾ad) vambraces plus a dir῾ mail hauberk by a mythological pre-Islamic King of Yemen according to al-Hamdānī. He was, however, writing in the 10th century.10 Al-Jāḥiẓ of Basra (776-868/9) had earlier claimed that the kaff was unknown to, or was not used by, the pre-Islamic Arabs.11 Perhaps this was due to their relative poverty as well as their traditional reliance on a combination of light cavalry and infantry archery. In one case the kaff of a Syrian cavalryman was described as being of iron but nevertheless being cut off by a sword blow.12 What confuses matters further is the fact that the 12th or 13th century Georgian kap’hi, which was almost certainly a comparable item of protection, is normally translated as an upper arm or shoulder protection; in other words a rerebrace or a pauldron.13 During the 9th and 10th centuries, Greek and Arabic sources agree on the notable degree of similarity between armoured elites on both sides of the frontier between the Byzantine Empire and the ῾Abbāsid Caliphate or its fragmented successor states. Al-Jāḥiẓ of Basra (776-868/9) listed the bāzīkand as an item used by the so-called Khurasanis and supposedly by none of the other military groups he described. These Khurasanis would form an elite within the 9th century ῾Abbāsid army and are generally thought to have been descendants of the Arabs who settled in eastern Iran and neighbouring areas in the wake of the initial Arab-Islamic conquest. The bāzīkand itself may have been an early form of, term for, or mistranscription of, the later bāzūband vambrace lower arm protection.14 Elsewhere al-Jāḥiẓ repeated the claim that the Arabs did not know of, or had at the time of the Prophet Muhammad not known of, either the jawshan 8 Al-Balādhurī, KitābFutūḥal-Buldān, ed. De Goeje, 351; al-Balādhurī, KitābFutūḥal-Buldān, trans. Hitti and Murgotten, 403. 9 ῾Imād al-Dīn al-Iṣfahānī, Al-Fatḥal-Qussīfī-l-Fatḥal-Qudsī, ed. Carlo de Landberg, ConquêtedelaSyrieetdelaPalestine (Leiden: Brill, 1888) p. 14; ῾Imād al-Dīn al-Iṣfahānī, Al-Fatḥ al-Qussīfī-l-Fatḥal-Qudsī, trans. Henri Massé, ConquêtedelaSyrieetdelaPalestine (Paris: Librairie orientaliste Paul Geuthner, 1972) p. 15. 10 Al-Hamdānī, Al-IklīlVIII,ed. Al-Karmalī al-Baghdādī and Anistās Mārī (Baghdad: Catholic Press, 1931) pp. 255-7. 11 Al-Jāḥiẓ, Al-Bayānwa-l-Tabyīn, ed. Ḥasan al-Sundūbī (Cairo: Maktabat al-Khānjī, 1947) p. 15. 12 Al-Ṭabarī, Tārīkh, ed. De Goeje, II: 1402. 13 Rust’haveli, Shot’ha, Vepʻxistqaosani, trans. Marjory Scott Wardrop, TheManinthePanther’sSkin (London: Royal Asiatic Society, 1912), verses 426, 998 & 1392. 14 Al-Jāḥiẓ, Rasā’ilal-Jāḥiẓ, ed. ῾Abd al-Salām Muḥammad Hārūn (Cairo-Baghdad: Maktabat al-Khānjī, 1965), p. 646.

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cuirass or the suwā῾ad (pl. of sā῾ad) vambrace.15 Furūsīya cavalry training literature of the Mamlūk era is largely based upon furūsīya literature of the ῾Abbāsid late 8th to early 10th centuries, much of which has been lost in its original form. Therefore it should not be dismissed as a source of information about ῾Abbāsid armour. For example the Nihāyatal-Su᾿l noted that the sā῾ad vambrace arm protection was useful in warding off blows,16 and that it could be partially untied to hang by straps while shooting a bow.17 Such information may have been taken directly from a source written several centuries earlier. Meanwhile Emperor Leo VI, known as The Wise (r. 886-912), described the “nation of the Saracens that is presently troubling our Roman commonwealth” in the Taktika attributed to him. Here Leo wrote that; “...their cavalry uses bows, swords, lances, shields and axes. They wear full armour, including both body armour (lorikia), cuirasses (klibania), helmets (kassidas), shin guards (podopsella), gauntlets (chairopsella), and all the rest in the Roman manner”, by which he means the current Byzantine manner.18 Earlier Leo described the chairopsella as gauntlets (chairomanika) made of iron,19 which suggests that they might have been plated rather than simply being of mail construction. Elsewhere he suggested that chairopsella or manikellia could be made of wood.20 However, a generation later the invention or adoption of manikia or manikellia shoulder, upper arm or elbow protections made of, or padded with, silk and cotton, was attributed to the Emperor Nicephoros Phokas (r. 963-9).21 Such documentary evidence, when combined with the pictorial and archaeological evidence, hints that the cheiropsellon and chairomanikon were actually vambraces or lower arm protections with or without extensions for all or part of the hands. In contrast the manikia or manikellia protected the upper arms and shoulders. Taken as a whole, this Byzantine information about their Muslim or “Saracen” foes is remarkably consistent with contemporary Arabic and slightly later Persian sources. Though writing several decades after the event, al-Mas῾ūdī (c. 896–956) stated that the so-called Khurasani cavalry who attacked Baghdad early in the 9th century, wore jawshan lamellar cuirasses with dir῾ mail hauberks, sā῾ada arm protections and tijfāf. The latter could either have been soft armour worn 15

Al-Jāḥiẓ, Al-Bayān,16. Abul Lais Syed Muhammad Lutful-Huq, “A Critical Edition of Nihayat al Su᾿l”, PhD thesis, London University, 1956, p. 18; David Nicolle, “The Reality of Mamluk Warfare: Weapons, Armour and Tactics” (partial translation of Nihāyat al-Su᾿l wa᾿l-Umnīya fī Ta῾līm A῾māl al-Furūsīya)”, Al-Masāq 7 (1994): 82, 101. 17 Lutful-Huq, “A Critical Edition of Nihayat al Su᾿l”, 322; Nicolle, “The Reality of Mamluk Warfare”,84. 18 Leo VI [Emperor], Taktika, ed. and trans. George T. Dennis, TheTaktikaofLeoVI (Washington: Dumbarton Oaks, 2010) pp. 476-9. 19 Ibid., pp. 84-5. 20 Ibid., pp. 92-3. 21 Peter Schreiner, “Zur Ausrüstung des Kriegers in Byzanz, im Kiewer Russland und in Nordeuropa”, ActaUniversitatusUpsaliensis,Figure, New Series, 14 (1981): 221-2. 16

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beneath hauberks and cuirasses, or was more likely quilted horse armour.22 Writing several generations later, but still in Iraq and drawing upon earlier sources, Ibn Miskawayh stated that elite ῾Abbāsid cavalry parading for a Byzantine embassy earlier in the 10th century wore “full dress and complete armour (al-silāhal-tāmm)”.23 Ibn Miskawayh’s book is, in fact, an unexpected mine of military information concerning the Middle Eastern Islamic heartlands and frontier provinces with the Byzantine Empire. For example in 955, during in a battle between rival forces within the Buwayhid state, one leader was a large and particularly strong man. Ibn Miskawayh stated that “I have myself seen his cuirass (jawshan), which was very weighty; it was suggested to the strongest of the Dailamite champions to put it on, but they all refused; it was too heavy for their hands”.24 A decade later in 974-5, Ḥamdān Ibn Nāṣr al-Dawla was attacking some elite ghulām “slave recruited” troops of Turkish origin when his horse was injured. He dismounted but was unable to mount a replacement horse because of the weight of his armour; “He rose to mount another but being clad in iron (ḥadīd) could not do it, and was recognised by the Turks who belaboured him with their clubs (actually dabābīs maces)”.25 Thirteen tumultuous and wartorn years later in 987-8 an ῾Uqaylid Arab force was fighting rival Kurds; Ibn Miskawayh noting that “They (the Banū ῾Uqail) were more lightly mounted and swifter in their movements than the Kurds who horses were slow and whose equipment (probably their armour) was heavy”.26 Other 10th and early 11th century sources confirm the importance of substantial armour in these regions, and especially in confrontations between the Byzantine Empire and Islam’s now weakened frontier states such as that of the Ḥamdānids in northern Syria. Whereas Ḥamdānid troops largely relied upon traditionally Arab dir῾ mail hauberks, a very interesting passage by Ibn al-῾Adīm, stated that armour for men and horses was stored in the strategic frontier city of Tarsus and included “Tibetan” cuirasses. Whether these were a distinctive style of jawshan cuirasses or were actually imported from Tibet is unclear.27 Not far away Miṣṣīṣa was another vital ribāṭ or frontier strongpoint popularly known as Little Baghdad because its garrison included so many religiously motivated frontier ghāzīs from Iraq. Here military equipment was manufactured as well as stored. According to al-Muhallabī, describing the period of the Fāṭimid Caliph 22 Al-Mas῾ūdī, Murūjal-Dhahab,ed. and trans. Charles Adrien Casimir Berbier de Maynard and Pavet de Courteille, LesPrairiesd’Or (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1861-77), VI: 453. 23 Ibn Miskawayh, Tajārib al-Umām, ed. and trans. David Samuel Margoliouth and Henry Frederick Amedroz, TheEclipseofthe‘Abbasidcaliphate (Oxford: B. Blackwell, 1921), I: 54. 24 Miskawayh, Tajāribal-Umām, II: 161. 25 Miskawayh, Tajāribal-Umām, II: 336. 26 Miskawayh, Tajāribal-Umām, III: 144. 27 Marius Canard, “Quelques Observations sur l’introduction géographique de la Bughyat at’Taleb de Kamāl ad-Dīn ibn al ῾Adīm d’Alep”, Annalesdel’InstitutOrientalesdelaFacultédes Lettresd’Alger 15 (1957): 49.

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al-῾Azīz (975-996) the mah᾿zūz “perforated iron” used in siege warfare was made in Miṣṣīṣa. This obscure term may have referred to scales or lamellae for more substantial forms of cuirasses worn during siege warfare.28 Perhaps the most abundant and detailed information about armour worn by cavalry elites around this time is found in Firdawsī’s epic Shāhnāma. Though written in eastern Iran and Transoxania for rulers of Turkish origin, and describing heroic pre-Islamic events in these regions, the technical information found in Firdawsī’s huge text is probably just as relevant to western Persian-speaking territories, as well as Kurdish and Arab-Armenian regions and probably most of the frontier zone facing the Byzantine Empire. Some verses highlight the extent to which a man was covered or protected by his armour. For example he might be unrecognisable because covered in iron,29 or being dressed “head to foot” in iron.30 Elsewhere the length of the armour was highlighted, being “bright upon a man’s thigh” while riding,31 or having divided dāman “skirts” that had to be tied one to the other when fighting on foot.32 The terminology of the Shāhnāma also makes a clear distinction between various types of body armour. The jawshan lamellar cuirass was sometimes specifically of iron and was closely associated with close-combat cavalry. It could be an “enveloping” jawshanbipūsh,33 or be notably heavy,34 or opening wide when taken off,35 or was worn over a zirih mail hauberk.36 The term kamarband referred to more than a waist waist-wrapping or belt. It was, of course, worn around the abdomen,37 but the literary contexts make it clear that this kamarband could be made of steel elements,38 be made of the same elements as, or be worn in association with, a jawshan,39 and could be worn over a mail hauberk.40 Taking such information together, the kamarband appears to be comparable to a limited form of jawshan lamellar cuirass, which covered only the front and back of the abdomen and chest. Such armour appears in many pictorial sources from the 9th or 10th centuries until the end of the medieval period. The term khaftān could apply to a piece of civilian costume 28

Canard, “Quelques Observations”, 46. Firdawsī, Shāhnāma [Shāhnāmāh], ed. Johann August Vullers (Leiden: Brill, 1877-80) p. 69; Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, trans. Arthur George Warner and Edmond Warner, TheShahnamaof Firdausi (London: Kegan Paul, 1905), I: 167. 30 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers,809; trans. Warner and Warner, III: 52. 31 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 1238; trans. Warner and Warner, IV: 103. 32 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 1221; trans Warner and Warner, IV: 85. 33 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 253; trans. Warner and Warner, I: 347. 34 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers,289; trans. Warner and Warner, I: 380. 35 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 174; trans. Warner and Warner, II: 504. 36 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 953; trans. Warner and Warner, III: 184. 37 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 263; trans. Warner and Warner, I: 354-5. 38 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 270; trans. Warner and Warner, I: 361. 39 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 430; trans. Warner and Warner, II: 115. 40 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 368-8, 1177; trans. Warner and Warner, II: 72, IV: 45. 29

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and to a form of cloth covered protection, the same word probably being used because both had the same shape and external appearance. The armoured khaftān usually seems to have been a form of quilted soft armour, or perhaps it was just more thickly quilted than the medieval civilian khaftān. It was often worn with, or more correctly beneath, other forms of metallic or rawhide armour, mail or lamellar, but could itself contain iron elements. As such it was probably an early form of the mail-lined and quilted or padded kazāghand (see below). In Persian the zirih was a mail hauberk, and was said to have first been made by the ancient iranian ruler Jamshid.41 In its most extensive form the zirih could supposedly leave no part of the body exposed, could be worn beneath a jawshan or a kamarband, and needed to have its skirts gathered together when fighting on foot. The mail aventail of a helmet could also be tied to the upper part of a zirih, thus giving greater protection to the wearer’s neck, throat and perhaps face, as shown in fragmentary 10th (figs. 36a-b) and sadly lost 12th century (fig. 43) wall paintings from Iran.42 I also believe it likely that the Persian word zirih and the Arabic word dir῾, both meaning a mail hauberk, had a common root. More surprisingly perhaps, the Persian word bāzūband for a vambrace or arm protection seems not to appear in the Shāhnāma although it would become common from the 11th or 12th centuries onwards, even being adopted in some Arabic speaking parts of the Middle East. Instead the Shāhnāmauses the Arabic word sā῾ad.43 According to the Central Asian Shi’a pilgrim Nāṣir-i Khusraw, the armoured elite of the 11th century Fāṭimid Caliphate in Egypt relied upon mail armour for themselves and for their horses, while jawshan lamellar cuirasses were only used by a small elite of cavalry.44 This was presumably because Fāṭimid traditions of arms and armour were still rooted in North Africa with a possible influence from al-Andalus and Mediterranean Europe. If so, then this could be seen as further evidence that the military elites of Mediterranean and Western Europe still used lighter armour than their rivals in the Middle East. The earliest mention of the mail-lined, quilted and cloth-covered kazāghand was in a late 10th century Syrian context, where it was described as the yellow coloured armour of a leading ghulām or professional soldier. However, this text was written by al-Qalānisī several centuries after the event, though almost certainly basing his work upon earlier and perhaps contemporaneous sources.45 The kazāghand was known and in widespread use by the late 11th century and 41

Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 23; trans. Warner and Warner, I: 132. Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 818; trans. Warner and Warner, III: 61. 43 Firdawsī, Shāhnāma, ed. Vullers, 301; trans. Warner and Warner, II: 13. 44 Nāṣir Ibn Khusraw, Safarnāma, ed. and trans. Charles Henri Auguste Schefer, SeferNameh: RelationduVoyagedeNassiriKhosrau (Paris: E. Leroux, 1881), p. 46 (Farsi), p. 137 (trans.). 45 Ibn al-Qalānisī, DhaylTārīkhDimashq, ed. Henry Frederick Amedroz,HistoryofDamascus (Beirut: Catholic Press of Beyrut, 1908), p. 18. 42

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certainly in the 12th century. Mentioned by Usāma Ibn Munqidh in his memoirs on a number of occasions,46 it had already been said by Mārḍī Ibn ῾Alī Mārḍī al-Ṭarsūsī to have been invented by the descendants of “those who became Arabs”, meaning the indigenous Semitic people of the Fertile Crescent.47 Then there are the Agulani who so impressed the First Crusaders outside Antioch. They formed part of the Seljuq army, which the Crusaders believed they defeated solely as a result of Divine intervention. Clearly a heavily armoured elite, these Agulani were subsequently described by the anonymous author of the Gesta Francorum in some detail: “Et Agulani fuerunt numero tria milia, qui neque lanceas neque sagittas neque ulla arma timebant, quia omnes erant undique cooperti ferro et equi eorum”.

This passage was translated by Rosalind Hill as: “The Agulani numbered three thousand, they feared neither spears nor arrows nor any other weapon, for they and their horses are covered all over with plates of iron”.48

In fact the word Agulani was almost certainly a corruption of the Arabic term ghulām (pl. ghilmān) meaning professional soldiers of supposedly slave recruited origin, who are also called mamlūks. Here these Agulani or ghilmān were clearly wearing full lamellar cuirasses and rode horses, which were also barded with lamellar. ARCHAEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE Archaeological evidence is rarer than the documentary and pictorial sources. Yet is tends to support, if not directly confirm, the presence of many heavily armoured troops. A few fragments of Syro-Roman, late Parthian and early Sassanian mail armour were found during excavations of the Roman frontier fortress of Dura Europos on the Middle Euphrates, which fell to the Sassanians in 257. The sizes of the individual links or rings vary and come from several armours (figs. 2a-d) but the most substantial amount of mail came from the hauberks 46 Usāma Ibn Munqidh, Kitābal-I῾tibār, ed. Philip Khuri Hitti (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1930), pp. 46, 66, 85; Usāma Ibn Munqidh, Kitāb al-I῾tibār, trans. Philip Khuri Hitti, MemoiresofanArab-SyrianGentleman (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1929), pp. 74, 95, 114. 47 Murḍā [Mārḍī] Ibn ῾Alī Murḍā [Mārḍī] Ṭarsūsī, Tabṣirat Arbāb al-Lubāb, ed. and trans. Claude Cahen, “Un traité d’armurerie composé pour Saladin”, Bulletind’ÉtudesOrientales 12 (1947-8): p. 116 (Arab.) & p. 138 (trans.). 48 Anon., Gesta Francorum et aliorum Hierosolimitanorum, ed. and trans. Rosalind Hill, TheDeedsoftheFranksandtheotherPilgrimstoJerusalem(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962), p. 49.

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worn by a fully armoured Sassanian and also by defending soldiers killed during mining operations in the 257 siege. The Sassanian’s hauberk had short or midlength sleeves and reached his thighs. Thus it was essentially the same as the hauberk worn by the armoured rider on a partially armoured horse in the famous early 7th century rock-cut grotto at Ṭāq-i Bustān (figs. 24a-b). There is then a death of archaeological evidence until the 12th or early 13th century. It is from this latter period that the abundant but as yet barely studied “Euphrates Hoard” of military equipment dates. It probably came from the castle of Qal῾at al-Raḥba overlooking the Euphrates valley in eastern Syria, and is now held by the Qatar Museums Authority in Doha. Two probably complete hauberks were found during unauthorised excavations of a collapsed structure, probably the south-eastern tower (figs. 14a-c). Although both are fused into lumps of corroded iron, their weights are known, as are the measurements and character of their mail links, which are remarkably similar to those of the heaviest style of mail from nearby but much earlier Dura Europos. This points to a persistent regional tradition in the making of mail. The abundant and varied fragments of bronze scale and bronze lamellar armour from Dura Europos were almost certainly of Syrian or Roman origin rather than Sassanian or belonging to the Parthian refugee community resident in this area (figs. 3a-b, 4 and 5a-b). An isolated bronze scale from Oman remains an enigma. It is thought to be pre- or very early Islamic in date, having been found on the edge of a seasonal watercourse where it may have been washed down from immediately a preIslamic gravesite on the hills above (fig. 7). Unfortunately these supposedly preIslamic graves or tumullae also contained Islamic material, which has tentatively been explained by the persistence of some pre-Islamic burial practices amongst some highly unorthodox Muslim communities of the medieval Omani mountains. Easier to date, but still either immediately pre-Islamic Sassanian or very early Islamic, are fragments of mixed iron and bronze lamellae from Qaṣr-i Abū Naṣr in south-western Iran (figs. 8a-b). In practice it hardly matters whether these fragments of a cuirass were very late Sassanian or very early Islamic as other evidence points to a continuation of armour forms and styles in this region, as elsewhere. Returning to the “Euphrates Hoard”, we see various forms of lamellar armour, mostly of rawhide (figs. 16a-b) but in some very distinctive cases made of iron or steel (figs. 15a-c). The latter seem to be unique in this region, though in one case (fig. 15a) having parallels in later medieval Central Asia and Siberia so that a Mongol date or origin could be indicated. The precise purpose of the second object (figs. 15b-c) remains a mystery but might either be one of the uppermost rows of lamellae across the wearer’s chest or perhaps part of an upper arm protection. The only other surviving fragments of medieval Middle Eastern iron lamellar armour from this period that I am aware of came from Tower 4

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of the Citadel of Damascus (fig. 18). Probably dating from the late 12th to early 14th century, judging by other items from the same location and from a carbon dating test on one such item, they are similar to lamellae found across much of Central and Inner Asia and other parts of the Eurasian steppes. They are also similar to the earlier lamellae from Qaṣr-i Abū Naṣr but are distinctive in retaining evidence of gilding. In contrast, the handful of iron lamellae found in the Byzantine Grand Palace in Istanbul (Constantinople) and dating from the 12th century (fig. 13) are very different in shape and method of assembly. Sadly these Byzantine fragments appear to have been lost since their excavation immediately prior to the Second World War. Paradoxically, a greater amount of rawhide or (less likely) hardened leather lamellae have been found. This perhaps reflects the fact that redundant rawhide armour was either tossed aside or was piled in the corner of an armourer’s workshop as a source of “spare parts”, while more valuable metallic lamellae were promptly reused. The fragments of rawhide lamellar armour from the “Euphrates Hoard” are fragmentary, though still shedding light on the lacing system used in their construction (figs. 16a-b). In contrast the fragments of rawhide lamellar cuirasses from Tower 4 of the Citadel of Damascus (figs. 19a-b) are substantial enough for a tentative reconstruction to be attempted. Here I want to draw attention to the experimental archaeology undertaken by Russell Mitchell, a specialist in leather armour, who proved that rawhide is much more effective than treated or hardened leather in resisting arrows and other thrusting weapons. In these respects it is also far superior to mail.49 Finally there are the remarkably sophisticated gauntlets from the area of Amlash on the Caspian coast of Iran (fig. 10), which are believed to date from the very late Sassanian period. Like other survivals from this period they may actually date from during or shortly after the 7th century Arab-Islamic conquest of Iran, especially as the Muslim conquest of Gilan took hundreds of years. Might these be the elements of a kaff as mentioned in early Islamic sources? Their similarity with gauntlets illustrated in 15th century Persian manuscripts is also notable, perhaps pointing to an otherwise unsuspected continuation of a regional tradition of hand and wrist protecting gauntlets. Finally there are fragmentary but astonishingly advanced, leg, shoulder and arm protections from Khazar territory just north of the Caucasus Mountains and from the western end of this range (figs. 11a-e). Though currently believed to be of Khazar Turkish origin, it seems possible that some were actually made inside the neighbouring Islamic Caliphate or Byzantine Empire, or reflected a shared military technology seen on both side of this mountainous frontier.

49

Russell Mitchell in private correspondence in 2003 and subsequently.

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PICTORIAL EVIDENCE This article will focus upon a handful of particularly important pictorial sources before looking more briefly at others from both sides of the frontier between the Muslim and Christian worlds from the 8th to very early 13th centuries. The first and in some ways the most unusual of these is a relief carving of the Philistine giant Goliath on the exterior of the Church of Gagik on Aght’amar island just off the southern coast of Lake Van in eastern Turkey (figs. 20a-d). It is also one of the carvings which was unaffected by recent restoration, with no differences being visible in photographs taken before (fig. 20a) and after this work (figs. 20b-d). At the time when the carving of Goliath was made (915921), Aght’amar was one of the centres of medieval Armenian civilisation. Given the artistic traditions of the period, Goliath would almost certainly have been portrayed with military equipment and costume associated with the “infidel” Muslims. Furthermore, early 10th century Armenia’s geo-political and cultural position makes it highly likely that this particular Goliath offers an accurate representation of the fully armoured military elite of Islam’s Middle Eastern heartlands. As far as his armour is concerned, several features are worth noting. These include his long-hemmed lamellar cuirass with similarly constructed upper arm protections (probably in the form of flaps from the shoulders rather than real sleeves). The fact that this lamellar cuirass seems to go no higher than Goliath’s upper chest brings to mind a fragment of wall painting showing a presumed guardsman from the middle of the dome in the harem area of one of the ῾Abbāsid Caliphal palaces at Samarra (fig. 34b). It dates from 836 to 839 and illustrates a very different armour from that worn by another presumed guardsman in the wall paintings from the Jawsaq al-Khāqānā palace (fig. 34a). Goliath also has mail over his shoulders, neck and upper body, as well as seemingly laminated vambraces around his lower arms. The structural similarity between the latter and those shown in even greater detail on 7th to early 9th century wall paintings in Central Asia is remarkable (figs. 26c and 27) although another picture of a fully armed horseman with vambraces from a 9th century shield from Muslim dominated Transoxania (fig. 28) lacks the detail which would indicate the precise construction of such vambraces. The likelihood of the artist who designed the Goliath at Aght’amar being aware of a significantly earlier tradition of wall paintings in Transoxania is vanishingly remote, so one is bound to assume that the laminated vambraces shown at Aght’amar were based on a real and probably current form of armour. Furthermore it was an item of armour associated with the Islamic world to the east and south rather than with the Byzantine Empire to the west. The likelihood of such “current realism” is almost confirmed by the remarkable similarity between the hilt of Goliath’s sword and the bronze hilt of a

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similarly double-edged sword found in the wreck of a 10th or early 11th century merchant ship, probably of Islamic origin, excavated off Serçe island (Serçe Liman) near the south-western coast of Anatolia (fig. 12).50 Goliath’s headgear is also worthy of note as it brings to mind the quilted hats or hoods worn by stucco statuettes of armoured guards in the early 8th century Umayyad palace complex at Khirbat al-Mafjir outside Jericho (fig. 30d) and by soldiers, probably again elite guardsmen, on mid-8th century carved ivory plaques excavated at Ḥumayma in southern Jordan but probably made in Khurasan (fig. 33). Made only a generation later than the carving at Aght’amar, wall paintings in the rock-cut so-called Dovecote Church at Çavusin in Cappadocia are believed to date from 963-969. Their subjects include significant military figures,51 two representing the Emperor John Tzimiskes and Saint Melias (Melito the Martyr) (figs. 21a-b) as armoured horsemen. Another shows the Forty Martyrs symbolised by four armoured men with swords (fig. 21c). Both the mounted figures wear knee-length, short-sleeved cuirasses of lamellar or scale construction, coloured brown and thus probably indicating rawhide or, less likely, bronze. In each case the sleeves are probably flap-like extensions attached to the shoulders and are unlikely to have covered the insides of the arms and certainly not the armpits. On the figure of John Tzimiskes (fig. 21a) this cuirass is worn over a mail hauberk, the slightly longer sleeves of which are visible above his elbow. The hauberk may also be visible between the hem of the cuirass and the rider’s knee, although the painting is very damaged at this point. The hem of a presumed mail hauberk is clearer on the figure of Melias (fig. 21b), but is not visible at his elbow. Both men wear turban-like head cloths, which go around their necks and shoulders, thus obscuring the upper parts of any mail hauberks, which might otherwise have been visible here. The four standing figures representing the Forty Martyrs each have different forms of armour but where it is possible to interpret the structure of these cuirasses all seem to be of lamellar or scale construction (figs. 21c). In three cases these armours have features in common with the archetypal Byzantine warrior saint, though none are wholly within this increasingly conservative artistic tradition. One figure wears a cuirass that looks like those of the two horsemen while a second appears to wear the upper part of a similar cuirass though with a different form of skirt. All four cuirasses are divided across the abdomen to show other forms of clothing or armour beneath, and in each case there is also a narrower 50

Joseph Karl Schwarzer, “Arms from an Eleventh Century Shipwreck”, Graeco-Arabica 4 (1991): 331-4, fig. 10; Joseph Karl Schwarzer and Emile C. Deal, “A Sword Hilt from the Serçe Liman Shipwreck”, MASCAJournal 4 (186): 50-59. 51 David Nicolle, “No Way Overland? Evidence for Byzantine Arms and Armour on the 10th11th Century Taurus Frontier”, Graeco-Arabica 6 (1995): 230-3.

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knotted cummerbund around the waist. I suggest that that these wide separations between the upper and lower parts of the cuirasses, visible on the standing figures but not on the horsemen, were to enable the cuirasses to flex at the waist when riding in a relatively deep saddle but with relatively bent knees. In two or possibly three cases the men seem to wear mail hauberks, which are visible at their waists but nowhere else. One of the standing figures (fig. 21c centre) wears a distinctive form of seemingly rigid greaves to protect his shins and what might be quilted protections over his thighs, while another (fig. 21 c left) may have mail over his thighs and knees, perhaps extending over his lower legs beneath textile “gaiters” like those worn by other figures. Two hundred years later and on the other side of the religious frontier, a relief carving of a fully armoured horseman riding sidesaddle and holding a severed head is not entirely different in artistic style (figs. 22a-c).52 This figure appears on one of the carved limestone panels of the ruined and perhaps never completed Tigris bridge at ῾Ayn Dīwār. It represents Mars (al-Mirrikh) who, in Islamic astrology, had been conflated with Perseus and thus held the severed head of Medusa. A comparable figure, though this time seated, appears on a coin of Ḥusām al-Dīn Yülük Arslan, the Artuqid ruler of nearby Mardin, which was minted between 1184 and 1204. On the coin the man wears a more limited form of lamellar cuirass (fig. 46). The horseman carved on a limestone panel on the bridge at ῾Ayn Dīwār also rides side-saddle, recalling similar images which are usually either of desert peoples, or Saracens, or perhaps early medieval Muslims and sometimes specifically Arabs. Such seemingly strange images surely deserve greater study. Or perhaps such a position at ῾Ayn Dīwār merely enabled an artist to fit the normal astrological image of Mars onto a horse. This carved panel also includes a ram representing Aries upon which Mars himself would ride in some later medieval Islamic astrological images. In several respects the artistic style of the ῾Ayn Dīwār panel has similarities with wall paintings in the Dovecote Church at Çavusin, perhaps reflecting the fact that the population of this part of the northern Jazīra region was still largely Christian, though Monophysite rather than Orthodox, at the time it was carved.53 The bridge at ῾Ayn Dīwār is almost certainly attributed to the Zangid wazir Jamāl al-Dīn Muḥammad al-Iṣfahānī and dates from no later than 1164. In fact it was probably never completed due to this man’s death in that year.54 52 David Nicolle, “The Zangid bridge of Ǧazīrat ibn ῾Umar (῾Ayn Dīwār/Cizre): a New Look at the carved panel of an armoured horseman”, Bulletin d’Études Orientales 62 (2013): 22364. 53 Carole Hillenbrand, “The History of the Jazīra, 1100-1250: A Short Introduction”, in OxfordStudiesinIslamicArt,ed. Julian Raby (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), I: 13 & 15. 54 Nicolle, “The Zangid bridge”, 228; Estelle Jane Whelan, The Public Figure: political iconographyinmedievalMesopotamia (Sawbridgeworth: Melisende, 2006), p. 38.

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The horseman’s armour makes this carving very important in the history of Islamic military equipment. Most significantly he wears a long-sleeved, long hemmed mail hauberk or dir῾ beneath a long-hemmed lamellar cuirass or jawshan. He also has a head-covering mail coif or mighfar, or perhaps a mail aventail hanging from the rim of a small helmet. The long-sleeved, long hemmed mail hauberk is popularly associated with a western European knightly elite rather than Islamic or even Byzantine cavalry, but it had certainly been in constant use in the Middle East since late Roman times That was also true of the mail coif although the latter seems to have been less widespread than the hauberk. Two fine examples of late 12th or early 13th century ceramics from Egypt or Iran offer parallels with the armours shown at ῾Ayn Dīwār. One in the Museum of Islamic Art in Cairo shows a guard attending a ruler. He wears both mail across his shoulders and a long hemmed lamellar cuirass with what might be flap-like lamellar upper arm protections (fig. 44). The second ceramic plate is in the Toledo Museum of Art, Ohio, and shows a seated figure, perhaps a ruler’s companion or guard, wearing a long-sleeved mail hauberk beneath a sleeveless garment. In a medieval European context the latter garment would be regarded as a surcoat (fig.45). The next example of pictorial evidence for fully armoured cavalry in the pre-Mongol Middle East is found on a superb inlaid brass or bronze candlestick base, which is currently in the possession of the Qatar Museums Authority. I still refer to this as the “Costa candlestick” because it was purchased by my friend Prof. Paolo Costa in Sana’a in Yemen and remained in his possession for many years. I believe the dedicatee to have been a short-lived and far from prominent ruler of Mosul, Mas῾ūd Ibn Arslan Shāh al-Malik al-Qāhir ῾Izz al-Dīn (Mas῾ūd II), r. 1211 to 1218.55 He was the eldest son of Arslan Shāh of Mosul and his designated successor though, being very young at the time of his father’s death, he had Badr al-Dīn Lu᾿lu᾿, a senior mamlūk and commander of Mosul’s army, as a very powerful advisor. During the decade that followed the death of Mas῾ūd II, Badr al-Dīn Lu᾿lu᾿ gradually usurped authority but continued to emphasise his loyalty to the memory of his legitimate predecessor. I have therefore suggested that the candlestick, which was almost certainly made in Mosul around this period, was commissioned by Badr al-Dīn Lu᾿lu᾿ for Mas῾ūd Ibn Arslan Shāh al-Malik al-Qāhir ῾Izz al-Dīn’s mausoleum. Nine cavalrymen in combat or military training ride around the candlestick base. They might, in fact, shed an interesting light on furūsīya military training 55 David Nicolle, “The Iconography of a Military Elite: Military Figures on an Early ThirteenthCentury Candlestick”, MamlūkStudiesReview 18 (2014-15): 66.

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techniques during this period.56 However, it is their armour, which concerns us now. Seven of the nine figures seem to wear lamellar or laminated armour (figs. 23a-d and f-h), each of which can be interpreted as a jawshan of the short form which may, at the time the Shāhnāma was written and in Persian speaking regions, have been called a kamarband. Although the perhaps 13th century Nihāyatal-Su᾿l military training from early Mamluk Egypt was critical of this short or limited lamellar cuirass, it did admit that the short form was more suitable for a horse-archer.57 Unfortunately the figures on the Costa Candlestick have lost most of their precious metal inlay, so it is not possible to state with certainty whether any of them wears a dir῾ mail hauberk. However, four figures do seem to have mail coifs or aventails protecting their necks and varying amounts of their faces (figs. 23a, b, d, i and j). Only one of these figures (fig. 23i) retains enough of its silver inlay to be able to see the way in which the mail is actually represented and even so it is clearer in a detailed drawing than in the photograph (fig. 23j). In one case this seems to be worn without a helmet and should therefore be identified as a head-covering coif (fig. 23a). The others probably represent mail aventails hanging curtain-like from the rim of a helmet. Only one horseman might be wearing a form of arm protection (fig. 23d), which may be of splinted construction, and this same figure is also the only man to be fighting with a sword. None of the horsemen have identifiable leg defences. DAVID NICOLLE Honorary Research Fellow Institute for Medieval Research, Nottingham University

56 David Nicolle, “The Iconography of a Military Elite” (part 2), MamlūkStudiesReview 19 (forthcoming): 57 & passim. 57 Nicolle, “The Reality of Mamluk Warfare”, 82-4.

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Fig. 1. Mail shirt or hauberk found during the excavation of Hatra in northern Iraq, Kingdom of Araba, probably 2nd century (Archaeological Museum, Mosul; author’s photograph).

a

b

c

d Fig. 2a-d. Fragments of mail from Dura Europos, some showing traces of copper alloy, either Syro-Roman, late Parthian or Sassanian, mid-3rd century. In one example (2d) the mail is enclosed in unidentified but apparently padded material (Yale University Art Gallery, Newhaven; author’s photographs).

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a

b

Fig. 3a-b. Fragments of large bronze scale armour from Dura Europos, perhaps from a horse-armour rather than a cuirass, Syro-Roman or late Parthian, mid-3rd century. One fragment is still attached to its coarse textile backing while the other retains part of its leather edging (Yale University Art Gallery, Newhaven; author’s photographs).

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Fig. 4. Fragment of a cuirass from Dura Europos, perhaps Syro-Roman, mid-3rd century. It is made of very small bronze scales on a coarse textile backing (Yale University Art Gallery, Newhaven; author’s photograph).

a

b Fig. 5a-b. Fragment of stapled bronze lamellar armour from Dura Europos, exterior (5a) and interior (5b). Syro-Roman or late Parthian, mid-3rd century (Yale University Art Gallery, Newhaven; author’s photographs).

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a

c

99

b

d Fig. 6a-d. Large sheets of rawhide lamellar armour from Dura Europos. These may have been thigh protections for a horseman, or the sides of a crinet to protect a horse’s neck. Probably late Parthian rather than Syro-Roman, mid-3rd century (Yale University Art Gallery, Newhaven; author’s photographs).

Fig. 7. Copper or bronze scale, perhaps from an armour, found at the edge of a wādī south of Nizwa, Oman, having perhaps been washed there by floodwater from a nearby area of immediately pre-Islamic graves (via Capt. E. Roe).

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Fig. 8a-b. Alternating iron and bronze lamellae from a fragmented cuirass excavated at Qaṣr-i Abū Naṣr, as found (8a) and as separated lamellae (8b), mid-7th century late Sassanian or very early Islamic (Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York).

Fig. 9a-b. Fragments of an iron lamellar cuirass from the late Sassanian fortress of Tsibillium, Abkhazia in the western Caucasus, 6th-early 7th century; as found (9a) and separated (9b) (after Gorelik).

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Fig. 10. Bronze gauntlet from Amlash, late Sassanian or very early Islamic 7th century (Römisch-Germanisches Zentralmuseum, Mainz; A. Kubik photograph).

Fig. 11a-e. Armour fragments from Khazar graves in the northern Caucasus; (11a) part of an iron shoulder guard from a cemetery near Verhniy Chiryurt, Khazar or early Islamic manufacture, 7th-8th centuries; (11b) iron shoulder guard from the Borisovkiy cemetery, Gelendjik near Tuapse, Khazar or Byzantine manufacture, 8th-9th centuries; (11c) splinted iron vambrace from Mount Beshtau, near Pyatigorsk, Khazar, 9th-10th centuries; (11d) iron greave from Mount Beshtau, near Pyatigorsk, Khazar, 9th-10th centuries; (11e) iron greave from the Borisovkiy cemetery, Gelendjik near Tuapse, Khazar or Byzantine manufacture, 8th-9th centuries (after Gorelik).

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Fig. 12. Bronze sword hilt from the wreck of an eastern Mediterranean, probably Islamic, ship off the island of Serçe (Serçe Liman), Middle Eastern Islamic or Armenian, 10th-early 11th century (Castle Museum, Bodrum; author’s photograph).

Fig. 13. Iron lamellae found in a 12th century context in the Byzantine Great Palace complex, Istanbul (reportedly no longer in the Archaeological Museum, Istanbul, present whereabouts unknown; G. Brett photograph).

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a

b

c Fig. 14a-c. Mail from the middle Euphrates valley, probably from Qal῾at al-Raḥba, Syria, Islamic 12th or early 13th century. Complete mail hauberk before restoration (a-b) and a fragment of mail after partial cleaning (c) (Qatar Museums Authority, Doha; author’s photographs).

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a

b

c Fig. 15a-c. Iron lamellae from the middle Euphrates valley, probably from Qal῾at al-Raḥba, Syria, Islamic 12th or early 13th century: (a) strips of stapled lamellae with leather edging, reassembled into a larger sheet in modern times; (b) front and back of a leather edged strip of stapled lamellae of a very distinctive shape, function unknown (Qatar Museums Authority, Doha; author’s photographs).

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a

b Fig. 16a-b. Fragmentary strips of laced rawhide lamellae, probably from Qal῾at al-Raḥba, Syria, Islamic 12th or early 13th century (Qatar Museums Authority, Doha; author’s photographs).

105

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a

b Fig. 17a-b. Fragment of scale lined armour, perhaps from a horse armour rather than from a cuirass, probably from Qal῾at al-Raḥba, Syria, Islamic 12th or early 13th century (Qatar Museums Authority, Doha; author’s photographs).

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Fig. 18. Only five isolated iron lamellae, four of which have a distinctive “toothed” edge, were found amongst a varied hoard of redundant Islamic military gear in Tower 4 of the Citadel of Damascus. They are probably 12th or 13th century judging by a carbon dating test on an associated object (National Museum Conservation Department, Damascus; author’s photograph).

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a

b Fig. 19a-b. Numerous fragments of rawhide lamellae with a few metallic and textile elements, probably from two or more cuirasses, were also found in Tower 4 of the Citadel of Damascus, Islamic probably 12th or 13th century (National Museum Conservation Department, Damascus; author’s photograph).

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a

c

109

b

d

Fig. 20a-d. Low relief carving of Goliath on the exterior of the Church of Gagik, Aght’amar island, Armenian 915 to 921: (a) the carving photographed in 1974 prior to recent restoration, note that the photograph was damaged by a publisher; (b) the carving as photographed in 2013 (insitu Aght’amar Island, Lake Van; author’s photographs).

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a

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b

Fig. 21a-c. Wall paintings in the “Dovecote Church” at Çavusin in Cappadocia, in provincial or “frontier” Byzantine style, 963-69, showing John Tzimiskes as Emperor or frontier governor (a) and wearing a full-length cuirass of rawhide or perhaps bronze scale or lamellar construction. Melias the Martyr also wears a full-length cuirass of rawhide or perhaps bronze scale or lamellar construction (b). Among military figures representing the Forty Martyrs (c), the central figure again wears a cuirass of rawhide or perhaps bronze scale or lamellar construction but with a division across the abdomen apparently showing a mail hauberk beneath (insitu Dovecote Church, Çavusin; author’s photographs). c

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a

b

c Fig. 22a-c. Carved stone panel showing the astrological figure of Mars (al-Mirrikh) holding the severed head of Medusa, Zangid before 1164. The horseman wears a long lamellar cuirass over an even longer and long sleeved mail hauberk. He also rides sidesaddle and appears to have a mail coif, perhaps beneath a close-fitting helmet (in situ Tigris Bridge at ῾Ayn Dīwār; author’s photographs).

a

b

c

d

e

f

g

h

i.1

i.2

Fig. 23a-i. Nine horsemen in combat or involved in furūsīya cavalry training exercises on the base of a silver-inlaid bronze candlestick, Mosul c.1220 (Qatar Museums Authority, Doha; author’s photographs).

a

b Fig. 24a-b. The rock-cut statue of a very late Sassanian ruler in the grotto at Ṭāq-i Bustān wears a full mail hauberk and a face-covering mail aventail. He also rides a partially armoured horse, early to mid-7th century (insitu Ṭāq-i Bustān; south-western Iran; author’s photographs).

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Fig. 25. Wall painting of the Sun or Moon deity wearing a mid-length mail hauberk beneath another waist-length garment, from the excavated ruins of a Buddhist in Fondoqistān, 6th-7th centuries (Archaeological Museum, Kabul).

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b a

c Fig. 26a-c. Wall paintings from the immediately pre-Islamic Sughdian Palace at Pandjikent, late 7th or early 8th century: (a) one warrior in a full length mail hauberk bends over a fallen opponent; (b) other warriors in combat have full-length lamellar cuirasses; (c) a hero-warrior wears a lamellar cuirass plus a hinged, laminated vambrace (Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg; (a) author’s photograph; (b) ex-Raspopova); (c) after ex- A.M. Yelenitskii & Y.Y. Piotrovskii).

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Fig. 27. Another hero-warrior with a multi-layered lamellar cuirass with hinged laminated vambrace and greaves appeared on a wall painting in the Usrūshana palace, Uzbekistan, Sughdian late 9th century under Islamic ῾Abbāsid suzereinty (from N.N. Negmatov 1973).

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Fig. 28. Fully armoured cavalryman with a long lamellar cuirass and vambraces painted on a shield from the castle of Mug, Takijistan, Sughdian early 8th century, probably under Islamic Umayyad suzerainty (State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg).

Fig. 29. Stucco relief of a horse-archer, largely dating from the 7th or early 8th century Iran. Though inaccurately restored, this horseman nevertheless wears a short-sleeved mail hauberk or shirt similar to that on the wall painting from a Buddhist monastery in Afghanistan (fig. 25) (Metropolitan Museum of Art [withdrawn from public display], New York).

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a

b

c

d Fig. 30a-d. Stucco statuettes of military figures from the Umayyad Palace at Khirbat al-Mafjir (so-called Hisham Palace), near Jericho, Umayyad early to mid-8th century. One figure in eastern rather than Romano-Byzantine or Mediterranean costume (a-b) wears a coat that could be interpreted as a simplified representation of mail or as scale lined or quilted. It is similar to a near contemporary ivory plaque made in eastern Iran (fig. 33). The second military figure (c) retains some of its painted surface and wears what could be interpreted as a lamellar cuirass in Romano-Byzantine style. The third guardsman (d) also retains sufficient of its colouring to identify a series of spots on his chest and left breast, perhaps representing a mail hauberk, while his quilted hat or cloth-covered helmet again recalls the ivory plaque from Ḥumayma fig. 33) (Rockefeller Museum, East Jerusalem; (a-c) author’s photographs).

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Fig. 31. A military figure on a coin minted in the name of Yazīd Ibn al-Muhallab, an Umayyad governor of Khurasan, dated 84/703-4. He wears what is almost certainly a full-length mail hauberk, plus a helmet whose elaborate finial recalls a magnificent but as yet unpublished Islamic 10th century helmet from Afghanistan (location unknown).

Fig. 32. Another figure in a probable long mail hauberk apparently wears a pointed cap or hood (see figs. 30c and 33). It appears of an embossed ceramic ewer from the Hamadān area of western Iran and probably dates from the late 7th century (ex-Demotte Collection; present whereabouts unknown).

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Fig. 33. A partially burned ivory plaque, one of a pair showing armoured guard figures found at Ḥumayma in southern Jordan. While dating from the very late Umayyad mid-8th century, the palace complex at Ḥumayma was closely associated with the ῾Abbāsid family and the style of this carved ivory strongly suggests that it came from Khurasan. The warrior wears a quilted or perhaps scale or mail-lined coat and probably a mail coif (Archaeological Museum, Amman).

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a

b Fig. 34a-b. Fragments of wall paintings from the Jawsaq al-Khāqānī palace in Samarra, Iraq. The first (a) wears what could be interpreted as a lamellar cuirass, or a quilted, scale or mail-lined coat, while the second (b) has what appears to be a lamellar cuirass reaching to his upper chest (Museum für Islamische Kunst, Berlin).

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Fig. 35. Detail from an embossed and partially gilded plate showing an attack upon a castle, Sughdian 9th or 10th century, perhaps made in the Semirechye region south of Lake Balkash. The besiegers wear a variety of lamellar, mail and perhaps quilted or scale-lined armours. The lower figure also rides an armoured horse (State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg).

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a

b Fig. 36a-b. These heads on fragmentary wall painting from the Sabz Pūshān palace in Nishapur, 10th century, are often misinterpreted as those of “demons”. In reality they show fully armoured guards and in both cases the men have mail aventails attached to their helmets, covering their faces except for their eyes (a: Museum of Islamic Archaeology, Tehran; b: Metropolican Museum, New York, author’s photograph).

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a

b

c

d

e Fig. 37a-e. Although highly stylised, the painted ceramics from late 9th to early 11th century Nishapur are an invaluable source of information about military equipment in the eastern regions of the Islamic world before the arrival of the Seljuq Turks. These examples show the short form of lamellar cuirass (a, c and d), as well as mail hauberks which are usually long sleeved (b, c and e) though in one case seemingly having only one sleeve (e). More unusual is the representation of a mail coif (b) (a: Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto, author’s photograph; b: Reza Abbasi Museum, Tehran, author’s photograph; c: Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, author’s photograph; d: David Collection, Copenhagen; e: Museum of the Istituto di Studi Medio Oriente, Rome, author’s photograph).

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Fig. 38. St. Menas shown as a horseman wearing a long mail hauberk in a Coptic hymnal dating from the 6th to 8th centuries. His lack of stirrups suggests a date before the 8th century (John Rylands Library, Manchester).

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Fig. 39. St. Eustace on a carved stone altar screen from Tsebelda Church, Georgia. The stirrups and long rounded saddle flap suggest a 9th or 10th century date. The saint wears a turban with a long trailing end and carries his sword from a baldric, both of which suggest strong Arab-Islamic influence, while he might also be wearing a very short-sleeved mail hauberk over a quilted garment (S.N. Djanashiya State Museum, Tblisi).

Fig. 40. Guards sleeping outside Christ’s Sepulchre on a silver-gilt Georgian icon, 1050-1100. They probably wear short lamellar cuirasses with upper arm protections of the same construction (Georgian State Art Museum, Tblisi).

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Fig. 41. One of a pair of confronted horsemen clasping hands above the litter of battle on a fragment of painted paper from Fustat, Fāṭimid, probably 11th or early 12th century. Lamellar armour is clearly visible on his arms and upper chest, though it seems to be worn beneath another garment. Mail also seems to be visible around his throat (Keir Collection, London, on loan to the Museum für Islamische Kunst, Berlin).

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Fig. 42. This well-known fragment of painted paper from Fustat is generally agreed to show a late Fāṭimid garrison emerging from a fortification to defeat an attacking Crusader force. The armour of the falling knight at the bottom of the picture dates it to the early or mid-12th century while the armoured men on both sides wear the same sort of long sleeved, long hemmed mail hauberks (Department of Oriental Antiquities, British Museum, London).

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Fig. 43. Detail of a damaged wall painting showing an armoured man, probably wearing a long sleeved mail hauberk, perhaps over a small lamellar, and clearly with a mail aventail across most of his face. Dating from 12th or early 13th century Seljuq Iran, this lost wall painting is said to have disappeared during the Second World War.

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Fig. 44. Armoured guardsman attending upon a seated ruler on a ceramic place, 12th to early 13th century Iran or late 12th to 13th century Egypt. This man wears a lamellar cuirass, apparently with long flap-like arm protections, over an apparent mail hauberk which is visible on his shoulder (Museum of Islamic Art, Cairo; author’s photograph).

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Fig. 45. A ruler’s companion wearing a long-sleeved mail hauberk beneath a sleeveless garment, on a ceramic bowl from Iran, late 12th to early 13th century (Museum of Art, Toledo, Ohio).

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Fig. 46. Coin of Ḥusām al-Dīn Yülük Arslan, the Artuqid ruler of Mardin, 1184-1203, probably showing Mars (al-Mirrikh) with Medusa’s head (New York Numismatic Society, New York).

Fig. 47. Stucco panel from Iran showing confronted horsemen wearing lamellar cuirasses, Seljuq late 12 or early 13 century. The man the right also has arm protections while the man on the left does not (Art Museum, Seattle).

THE CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS IN SYRIA IN THE TIME OF NŪR AL-DĪN: THE EVIDENCE FROM THE MANUSCRIPT BNF ARABE 2281 (564/1168–69) “[Nūr al-Dīn] rebuilt the walls of all towns and castles of Syria, such as Aleppo, Hama, Homs, Damascus, Bar῾īn, Shayzar, Manbīj, and other fortified places. These repair works were executed in a solid manner and took such large amounts of money that one’s mind barely gets an idea of it.”1

Among the Islamic dynasties on the political stage in twelfth-century Syria after the establishment of the Crusader states in the Levant, the Zankids are considered the most successful. Their rise to power is characterized by the successful formation of their own state and a progressive territorial expansion. Its founder, ῾Imād al-Dīn Zankī (r. 1127–1146), united Mosul and Aleppo under his rule and subsequently enlarged his domain by adding Syrian cities such as Ḥarrān, Manbīj, Hama, Homs, Ba῾rīn, and Baalbek2. His greatest success was the capture of Edessa, thus decisively reducing the correspondent Crusader state and, what is more, depriving it of its capital. The takeover of Damascus, however, was left to his son and successor, Nūr al-Dīn Maḥmūd (r. 1146–1174), who inherited Aleppo and Northern Syria/Mesopotamia west of the River Khābūr.3 After his appointment as atabeg of Aleppo in 1146, he turned against the Crusader states, in particular the Principality of Antioch, against which he dealt a decisive blow in the Battle of Ināb in 1149. Moreover, he seized a large part of the remnants of the County of Edessa, thus pushing the boundaries of his realm further to the west. In this same year he became overlord of Mosul and with the taking of Damascus in 1154 he controlled large parts of Syria with only the Crusaders left as his major opponents. The apogee of Nūr al-Dīn’s reign is marked by his acquisition of Egypt, which took place in 1169, after his military commander Asad al-Dīn Shīrkūh succeeded in driving off an invading Crusader force.

1 Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkhal-Bāhirfil-Dawlaal-Atābikiyya, ed. and tr. W. McGuckin de Slane, HistoiredesAtabecsdeMosul, RHC Hist. or. II.2 (1876), p. 309. 2 For a better readability, common personal names and toponyms are used in their romanised form, i.e. Damascus instead of Dimashq etc. 3 The major work on Nūr al-Dīn’s life and career is still N. Elisséeff, Nūrad-Dīn.Ungrand princemusulmandeSyrieautempsdecroisades:511-569H./1118-1174, volumes I-III (Damas, 1967).

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Nūr al-Dīn’s reign is well documented in literary sources.4 Upon his death in 1174, several eulogies were issued, stressing his efforts to improve the infrastructure of the state and to promote public building works. Defence was a task of vital importance in this regard. It was not only the threat posed by Crusader, Armenian or Byzantine neighbours, but also the struggle with Islamic opponents that led Nūr al-Dīn to pay particular attention to the maintenance and reinforcement of the fortifications in his domain. On the other hand, the Zankids — much more than their predecessors — strongly relied on fortifications for the exercise of power and authority. Castles and fortified towns were the backbone of Nūr al-Dīn’s governance and their possession was of primary importance, not only for defensive purposes or for strategic reasons,5 but also as symbols of sovereignty and might. Nūr al-Dīn often inspected the building works in person and he even had an inspector general of fortresses at his command.6 Although we are fairly well informed about Nūr al-Dīn’s building activities,7 the layout and the size of the fortifications during the period of his reign are in fact often poorly documented. This is due chiefly to a later rebuilding in the Ayyūbid and Mamlūk periods. In a number of cases, however, they were demolished or abandoned.8 THE MANUSCRIPT BNF

ARABE

2281

There is one unique source providing first-hand information on the fortified sites in Nūr al-Dīn’s empire, an Arabic text forming part III and IV (fols. 57r – 62v) of the manuscript BnF arabe 2281, with a date of 564/1168–69.9 On the beginning of part IV (fol. 58r) it bears the title “The surface area of some cities located in the kingdom of the just king Nūr al-Dīn Abū al-Qāsim Maḥmūd bin Zankī bin Āqsunqur, may Allah have mercy on him and illuminate his tomb, in the year 564” (Fig. 1). It provides data on the circumference of the most important castle and town walls in Nūr al-Dīn’s state, gives particulars as to their layout, and lists distances between towns and road stations there. Its nature is 4

Elisséeff, Nūrad-Dīn, I: 1-85. Moreover, Nūr al-Dīn secured the main roads by erecting caravanserais and watchtowers: Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkh, 311. 6 Zayn al-Dīn ῾Alī Küçük, who was supreme commander of the troops at Mosul: Elisséeff, Nūr ad-Dīn, II: 399. 7 N. Elisséeff, “Les monuments de Nûr ad-Dîn: Inventaire, notes archéologiques et bibliographiques”, Bulletind’ÉtudesOrientales 13 (1949-51): 5-44; A.A. Al-Tabbaa, “The Architectural Patronage of Nur al‐Din (1146‐1174)”, PhD Thesis, New York, 1982. 8 For example Qūris, the ancient Kyros/Cyrrhus, which was destroyed by Nūr al-Dīn after the imprisonment of Count Joscelin II of Edessa in 1150, and obviously never resettled again: Ibn Shaddād, Al-A῾lāqal-KhaṭīrafīDhikrUmarā’al-Shāmwa-l-Jazīra, tr. A.-M. Eddé-Terrasse, ῾Izz al-DīnIbnŠaddād:DescriptiondelaSyrieduNord (Damas, 1984), p. 279. 9 Baron (W. McGuckin) de Slane, BibliothèqueNationale,DépartementdesManuscrits:Cataloguedesmanuscritsarabes (Paris, 1883-1895), pp. 399-400. 5

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Fig. 1: Title at the beginning of part IV of the manuscript (fol. 58r) (BNF Paris, Ms. arabe 2281)

that of a report in the sense of a technical document containing a compilation of data. The collective character becomes apparent not only by the duplication of some data, but also by an inconsistent style of writing and by the existence of a separate part (part III), which bears no title and seems to have been added later. The whole is a compilation of six texts from different periods, which was bought in Aleppo in 167310 and added to the private library of Jean-Baptiste Colbert, the French Minister of Finances.11 Later, this library came into the hands of Colbert’s grandson, the Count of Seignelay, where the manuscript was found by the abbot Eusèbe Renaudot who analysed it for the first time.12 In his book, however, Renaudot provides merely a translation of the first two parts of the manuscript, ninth-century travel accounts of Arab merchants to China and India, referring to parts III and IV only very briefly. Moreover, he did not specify the source he had used. This was rediscovered, in a sense, in 1764 by Joseph de Guignes in the “ancien fonds arabe” of the Royal Library (no. 597),13 into which it had been incorporated together with other Arabic manuscripts in 1732.14 The first edition of the Arabic text of the manuscript was prepared by Louis-Mathieu 10

Note on fol. 148v by the librarian Étienne Baluze. Catalogued as “Colbert 6004”. 12 E. Renaudot, AnciennesrelationsdesIndesetdelaChine,DedeuxVoyageursMahometans, quiyallèrentdansleneuviémesiecle;Traduitesd’Arabe (Paris, 1718), in particular p. iij. 13 J. De Guignes, “Lettre”, JournaldesSavants (Nov. 1764): 718-725. 14 McGuckin de Slane, Catalogue, p. II. 11

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Langlès in 1811,15 to be published in 1845 by Joseph-Toussaint Reinaud.16 However, they both left out part III of the text and did not provide a translation of parts III and IV.17 Although Reinhold Röhricht had listed the manuscript in his geographical bibliography published in 1890,18 it does not seem to have been used by scholars until fifty years later.19 Tevfik Buyukasik has recently presented a new critical edition of the Arabic text combined with an English translation,20 making this fundamental text now more accessible. Albeit occasionally quoted by scholars, up to now the bulk of data contained in the manuscript has hardly been exploited and is far from being sufficiently explored. One crucial impediment lies in the fact that the length of the main measurement unit used, the Qāsimī cubit, has not been determined yet. As the knowledge of its dimension is an indispensable prerequisite for the assessment of the sites mentioned, it shall be one of the objectives of this study. THE REASONS FOR THE

CREATION OF THE MANUSCRIPT

Jean Sauvaget has already pointed out that the reason for the composition of the manuscript was the commencement of restoration works following the earthquake of 552/1157.21 Ibn al-Athīr gives the most detailed account of the action Nūr al-Dīn has taken:22 “In Rajab this year [9 August – 7 September 1157] there were many strong earthquakes in Syria which destroyed many towns and which caused the extinction of a 15 L.-M. Langlès, LachaînedeschroniquesouRelationdesvoyagesfaitsparlesArabesetles Persansdansl’IndeetàChinedansleIXesiècledel’èrechrétienne (Paris, 1811), pp. 149-164. 16 J.-T. Reinaud, RelationdesvoyagesfaitsparlesArabesetlesPersansdansl’IndeetàChine dansleIXesiècledel’èrechrétienne.Textearabeimpriméen1811parlessoinsdefeuLanglès (Paris, 1845). 17 In the following part III and IV will be referred to as “the manuscript”. 18 R. Röhricht, Bibliotheca geographica Palaestinae. Chronologisches Verzeichniss der auf dieGeographiedesHeiligenLandesbezüglichenLiteraturvon333bis1878undVersucheiner Cartographie (Berlin, 1890), p. 45 no. 112. 19 C. Cahen, LaSyrieduNordàl’époquedescroisadesetlaprincipautéfranqued’Antioche (Paris, 1940), pp. 92-93 n. 1, 112 n. 5, 114 n. 19-21, 116, 139 n. 7; J. Sauvaget, Alep.Essaisurle développementd’unegrandevillesyrienne,desoriginesaumilieuduXIXesiècle, 2 vols (Paris, 1941), I: XX, 116 n. 365, 117 n. 374, 119 n. 383. 20 T. Buyukasik, “A Survey of the Measurements of the Castles, Villages and Cities that are Situated in the Kingdom of the Just King Nūr al-Dīn Abū al-Qāsim Maḥmūd ibn Zangī ibn Āqsunqur in the Year 564/1168-9, as described in MS Arabe 2281 (BN Paris)”, in EastandWestin theMedievalEasternMediterraneanII:AntiochfromtheByzantineReconquestuntiltheEndofthe CrusaderPrincipality.ActaofthecongressheldatHernenCastle(theNetherlands)inMay2006, eds. K. Ciggaar and V. van Aalst (Leuven, 2013), pp. 79-200, in particular 108-116 (translation), 191-198 (edition of the text). 21 Sauvaget, Alep, I: XX n. 27. 22 Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Kāmil fī l-Ta’rīkh, ed. and tr. W. McGuckin de Slane [RHC Hist. or. I] (1872), p. 503-504.

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countless number of people. Hama, Shayzar, Kafarṭāb, Afāmiya, al-Ma῾arra, Homs, Ḥiṣn al-Akrād, ῾Arqa, Latakia, Tripoli and Antioch were totally ruined. All over Syria, even there where the damage was not total, the greater part was ruined. The walls of the towns and the castles burst. Nūr al-Dīn Maḥmūd dealt with this adequately. He feared for the lands of the Muslims because of the Franks and as the city walls had been destroyed. He assembled his soldiers and tarried on the frontiers of his land, attacking the territory of the Franks, while working on the walls in the rest of his lands. He kept this up until he had completed all the walls of the country.”

Ibn al-Athīr further stated that Nūr al-Dīn personally commanded the works and adduced that he spent incalculable sums of money on this undertaking.23 Apart from the fact that it was not only a single event but a long series of seismic shocks stretching over a period from 1156 to 1159,24 this is certainly one of the most plausible explanations. On the other hand, the large-scale fortification works executed by Nūr al-Dīn during the late 1150s and 1160s not only comprised rebuilding measures but also reinforcements, as at the city wall of Damascus and elsewhere. As the measurements could only be taken at fortifications with an uninterrupted wall ring, the manuscript may rather be read as a physical inventory of reconstructed fortifications.25 It is therefore something along the lines of a closing report, indicating the completion of the bulk of work which had to be carried out.26 It should, however, be noted that not all the fortifications which were repaired after the series of earthquake, are listed in the manuscript. Among those omitted are for example Afāmiya, Kafarṭāb and Bar῾īn, which had reportedly been damaged by these earthquakes. Although it is documented that their walls were rebuilt or reinforced by Nūr al-Dīn, it is not known to which extent this was accomplished and at which particular time. The earthquake hypothesis, however, does not explain the quoting of distances between the major localities of the state, with a listing of road stations in between. Like the fortifications they were part of a public infrastructure, vital for the security of the state, due to their significance for the movement of troops and for internal communication. Therefore, the manuscript represents a report on the situation of the state’s defensive capabilities, most probably issued by the 23

Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkh, 262. N. Ambraseys, “The 12th century seismic paroxysm in the Middle East: a historical perspective”, AnnalsofGeophysics 47 (2004): 745-751; id., EarthquakesintheEasternMediterranean and the Middle East. A Multidisciplinary Study of Seismicity up to 1900 (Cambridge, 2009), pp. 298-315. See further M.R. Sbeinati, R. Darawcheh and M. Mouty, “The historical earthquakes of Syria: an analysis of large and moderate earthquakes from 1365 B.C. to 1900 A.D.”, Annalsof Geophysics 48 (2005): 347-435. 25 A lacuna in the manuscript on fol. 60v, where one would expect the figure for the length of the city wall of Homs, attests to this hypothesis. Obviously, the works there were not yet completed by 1168–69. 26 So, too, McGuckin de Slane, RHC Hist.or. I, p. 606 n. 1. It is certainly not an inventory compiled prior to the repair works, as alleged by Buyukasik, “Survey”, p. 92, who further confounds it with the earthquake of 1170 which occurred after the creation of the manuscript. 24

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inspectorate general of the troops, which was in charge of the teams that executed the surveying. The analysis of the sites and routes quoted in the manuscript does not provide any indications to doubt the dating to 564/1168–69. It is confirmed by other sources that all these were in Nūr al-Dīn’s hands at that time, except for Amman, for which there is no such reference. It is nevertheless in some way plausible that Nūr al-Dīn controlled Amman’s citadel at that time, as the Templar occupation there in the 1160s was in any case short-lived, due to its exposed position (see below). The phrase “may Allah have mercy on him and illuminate his tomb” in the title is a literary topos and does not necessarily hint at Nūr al-Dīn’s passing away.27 Moreover, a technical report like this with such tangible information would certainly not have been dedicated to a ruler upon or after his death. THE CONTENT OF THE MANUSCRIPT To give an overview of the content of the manuscript, it will be useful to list all entries in the text for which dimensions are provided: fol. 57r: A῾zāz, castle and city walls,28 the distance to Tall Bāshir; Tall Bāshir, castle and city walls, the distance to ῾Ayntāb. fol. 57v: ῾Ayntāb, castle walls, the distance to Ra῾bān. fol. 58r: Aleppo, castle and city walls, the Green Hippodrome. fol. 58v: (Aleppo), the Hippodrome of the Gate of Qinnasrīn, the Hippodrome of the Gate of ῾Irāq, the Grand Mosque, its southern and eastern houses, its minaret, its staircase, the houses north and west of it, the distances to A῾zāz, Tall Bāshir and Ḥārim. fol. 59r: (Aleppo), the distances to Manbīj, Buzā῾a, al-Ma῾arra, Hama; the distances Ḥāḍir Qinnasrīn – Tall al-Sulṭān – Tumna῾ – Duwayr Ṣawwarān – Hama; the distances Aleppo – Sarmīn, Tall Bāshir – ῾Ayntāb – Ra῾bān – Kaysūn; Manbīj, city wall. fol. 59v: (Manbīj), distances to Qal῾at Najm and Baddāyā; al-Ma῾arra, city wall; Shayzar, castle and city walls. fol. 60r: (Shayzar), city walls, the distance to Hama; Hama, city and castle walls, the Green Hippodrome of the castle, the distances Hama – Jisr alRastan – Homs. 27

For a discussion of this issue see Buyukasik, “Survey”, p. 85. The majority of the urban settlements in the text is referred to as madīna, which for convenience is translated here as “city”, although some of them are merely suburbs, attached to castles, such as A῾zāz. For a definition and discussion of the term see A. Raymond, “Madīna”, in EI2, XII: 551-554. Furthermore, there is no distinction made between castles and citadels, both labeled as qal῾a, which is always translated as “castle” here. 28

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fol. 60v: Homs, castle and city walls, the distance to Damascus; Damascus, castle and city walls, the Grand Mosque, the Hippodrome of the Pebbles. fol. 61r: (Damascus), the Hippodrome of the Pebbles, the Big Green Hippodrome, the Little Green Hippodrome, the distances to Dārayyā and Homs, the latter in particular: Damascus (Bāb Tūmā) – Ḥarastā – al-Quṣayr – Nahr Yazīd – bifurcation of the road to Quṭayyifa – Jubb al-Qaṣtal – Nahr al-Nabk – Khān bi-Qārā – Burj al-Ghasūla – Khirbat al-Qiblī – Shamsīn – Kafrayyā – Homs. fol. 61v: (Damascus), the distance to Bānyās; Bānyās, castle and city walls, the distance Damascus – Ṣarkhat; Ṣarkhat, castle walls and two ponds; the distance Damascus – Bosra, in particular Damascus – al-Kiswa – alJubb – al-Ṣanamayn – al-Faqī῾ – al-Fawwār – Bosra; Bosra, castle wall and three ponds. fol. 62r: (Bosra), one pond; Amman, castle wall; Baalbek, city wall, the Green Hippodrome, the distance to Damascus, in particular Damascus – al-Zabadānī – Baalbek; Edessa, castle and city centre. fol. 62v: (Edessa), distances to Qal῾at al-Sinn and Sarūj, the distance Sarūj – Qal῾at Najm; Ḥarrān, city and castle walls; al-Rāfiqa, city wall. The sites listed in the text cover the area of Nūr al-Dīn’s state, with only few of the more important places left out. Those not mentioned were either not much affected by the series of earthquakes in the years 1156–1159, or destroyed and abandoned. THE DEFENCE OF NŪR

AL-DĪN’S STATE ACCORDING TO THE MANUSCRIPT

The text provides some new evidence regarding the border zones of Nūr alDīn’s realm during the 1160s and the policy pursued by him in defending these borders. Although the literary sources allow for a rough delineation of its territorial extent, there are large zones on the fringes for which more precise information is lacking. Therefore, data from a contemporary source with a high degree of reliability, like those given in the manuscript, are of great value in this regard. The listing of place names provided there, in particular of those on the territorial fringes, results in a well-based perception not only of the actual extension of Nūr al-Dīn’s state but also of its border zones. Together with evidence from other sources, it enables one to draw a much clearer picture of the policy Nūr al-Dīn pursued to secure the boundaries of his state (Fig. 2). Furthermore, it adds new aspects to the discussion on the role of strongholds in the defence of borders.29 29 R. Ellenblum, Crusader Castles and Modern Histories (Cambridge, 2007), pp. 105-186, maintaining that fortresses not only acted as centres of power but also defined regions.

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Fig. 2: The border zone of Nūr al-Dīn’s state during the 1160s according to the manuscript and other sources, as expressed by its frontier strongholds (image source: Google Earth)

Elisséeff has stated that Nūr al-Dīn’s efforts in this regard were a straightforward, offensive policy against his enemies entailing the establishment of defensive lines along the boundaries of his realm, formed by a chain of fortifications.30 This is, however, oversimplifying the issue of how Nūr al-Dīn organized the defence of the borders of his state. It is certainly true that he pursued an aggressive and dynamic policy, which added much to the security of his realm, but it is also true that these actions were not sufficient to defend a territory with such elongated border zones against multiple threats.31 Nūr al-Dīn’s external policy also comprised alliances with neighbouring rulers such as the Artuqids 30

Elisséeff, Nūrad-Dīn, III: 705. A case in point is Nūr al-Dīn’s campaign of 1159 against Seljuk territory in the north. While he conquered land and fortifications there, King Baldwin III (r. 1152–62) raided and heavily plundered the south of his domain between Bosra and Damascus: William of Tyre, Chronicon XVIII 27, ed. R.B.C. Huygens, WillelmiTyrensisArchiepiscopiChronicon.GuillaumedeTyr,Chronique, volumes I-II (Turnhout, 1986), II: 850-851. 31

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in the northeast, and treaties, which he likewise concluded with the Crusaders.32 An instructive example is Bānyās, a strongpoint on the road from Damascus to Tyre and Acre. The place was fought over fiercely between Nūr al-Dīn and the Crusaders in 1157 and again in 1164. Nūr al-Dīn in both cases sought to conclude treaties. He had no success in 1157,33 but in 1164 his efforts concluded in an arrangement to share the revenues of all areas under the administration of Tiberias (a῾mālṭabariyya),34 in fact the Principality of Galilee, in particular the areas east of the River Jordan. By contrasting the places and routes of the manuscript with evidence from literary sources, it becomes explicit that after the unification with Damascus in 1154 Nūr al-Dīn had developed a clear concept concerning the borders. His aim was to consolidate his new state within clearly defined boundaries. It is in this context that we have to view the truce arranged with the Crusaders in 115535 and his eagerness to get a hold on Baalbek in the same year.36 His campaign in 1159–60 against the Sultanate of Rum must likewise be put in that context. He sought to create a well-defendable border zone in the north through this campaign, defined by a rationally organized array of fortifications. This becomes evident in monumental inscriptions in which, among other epithets, Nūr al-Dīn is praised as “defender of the thughūr”.37 The latter term originally meant the points of entry into the lands of Islam and was later used for the line of defences protecting them.38 Fortified places were a means to secure those borders since the late Umayyad period. It is interesting to notice that Nūr al-Dīn resorts to this term, thus drawing on earlier traditions. One of the main elements of Nūr al-Dīn’s concept — besides the line of frontier fortifications — was the establishment of buffer zones, in particular to the north and west of his realm, more precisely on the border with his most formidable opponents. One the one hand he benefited from topographical conditions, as he could take advantage of extended plains such as the Orontes Valley or the 32

M.A. Köhler, AllianzenundVerträgezwischenfränkischenundislamischenHerrschernim VorderenOrient.EineStudieüberdaszwischenstaatlicheZusammenlebenvom12.bisins13. Jahrhundert (Berlin, New York, 1991), p. 243, stating that this period is marked by an alternation of raids and treaties. 33 Ibn al-Qalānisī, DhaylTa’rīkhDimashq, tr. H.A.R. Gibb, TheDamascusChronicleofthe Crusades (London, 1932), p. 338. 34 Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Kāmil, 540-541; Kamāl al-Dīn, Zubdatal-ḤalabminTa’rīkhḤalab, tr. E. Blochet, Kamâlal-Dîn,Histoired’Alep (Paris, 1900), 33. 35 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 322. The truce was renewed in 1156: ibid., 327. 36 Ibid., 322-323. 37 Inscription on the north façade of the al-Nūrī Mosque in Hama, dated 558/1162–63: N. Elisséeff, “La titulature de Nūr ad-Dīn d’après ses inscriptions”, Bulletind’ÉtudesOrientales 14 (19521954): 160 no. VIII. 38 M. Bonner, “The naming of the frontier: ῾Awāṣim, Thughūr and the Arab geographers”, BulletinoftheSchoolofOrientalandAfricanStudies 57 (1994): 17-24; C.E. Bosworth, “Al-Thughūr”, in EI2, X: 446-447.

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Beqaa Valley stretching along the western fringes of his realm, not unlike a moat in front of a fortification wall. This policy implied the destruction of the fortifications in these zones, a measure whose underlying rationale was twofold. On the one hand, these isolated fortifications could hardly be permanently maintained and garrisoned. On the other hand, Nūr al-Dīn deprived his enemies thereby of places where they could entrench themselves or which they could use as siege forts or strongpoints from which raids could be launched. Instead, he built “towers on the roads and [on the borders] between the land of the Muslims and the Franks”, which could be used to warn of an approaching enemy by the use of pigeon post communication.39 Elissèeff has maintained that the northern line of defence is formed by the places Manbīj – Tall Ḫālid – Tall Bāshir – ῾Ayntāb – Burj al-Raṣāṣ – Dulūk – Mar῾ash.40 The manuscript, however, tells us that the border zone in the 1160s has to be located considerably further to the northeast. Accordingly, the line of border fortresses was thus (from east to west):41 al-Rāfiqa (fol. 62v) – Ḥarrān (fol. 62v) – Edessa (fol. 62r) – Qal῾at al-Sinn (fol. 62v)42 – Kaysūn (fol. 59r). The area northeast of the line al-Rāfiqa – Ḥarrān – Edessa – Kaysūn was under the control of Artuqid rulers, in particular Ḥusām al-Dīn Timurtāsh (r. 1122–1154) and Najm al-Dīn Albī (r. 1154–1167), both rulers of Mardin, and Fakhr al-Dīn Qara Arslan of Ḥiṣn Kayfa (r. 1144–1167). They were formally vassals of the Zankids, in fact rather allies, and the latter two cooperated with Nūr al-Dīn in military operations against the Crusaders.43 Further to the west, that is west of Ḥiṣn Manṣūr, Nūr al-Dīn created precedents when he seized a number of places from the Sultanate of Rum in 1159–60. These were Kaysūn, Ra῾bān, Mar῾ash, and Bahasnā, which were all part of the former Crusader County of Edessa. The latter two, however, were too exposed, for which reason Nūr al-Dīn decided to raze their walls.44 The reason may be seen in topographical conditions. Bahasnā would have been the northernmost point of his realm; on the other hand it is located only 13 km to the north of Kaysūn as the crow flies. Kaysūn, however, was a safer place, as its governor subjected himself to Nūr al-Dīn’s rule and supported him in the conquest of Bahasnā. 39

Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkh, 311. Elisséeff, Nūrad-Dīn, III: 705-706. 41 Further east, the Euphrates defined the border, where the castle of al-Raḥba (not in ms.) has to be added, which has been repaired by Nūr al-Dīn after the earthquake of 1157. 42 “Al-Sinn is a castle in the Jazīra near Sumaysāṭ. It is also known as Sinn Ibn ῾Uṭayr. The latter is a man from the Numayr family”: Yāqūt, Mu῾jamal-Buldān, ed. F. Wüstenfeld, Jacut’s geographischesWörterbuch, volumes I-VI (Leipzig, 1868), III: 169. According to the manuscript, the distance between Qal῾at al-Sinn and Edessa is 4.858 parasangs, equal to 29 km. Therefore, it should be located somewhere between Sumaysāṭ and Edessa. 43 G. Väth, DieGeschichtederartuqidischenFürstentümerinSyrienundderǦazīra’l-Furātīya (496-812/1002-1409) (Berlin, 1987), p. 108-111. 44 Gregory the Priest, tr. A.E. Dostourian, ArmeniaandtheCrusades:TenthtoTwelfthCenturies.TheChronicleofMatthewofEdessa (Lanham, 1993), p. 276-277; William of Tyre, Chronicon XVIII 27, II: 850. 40

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Mar῾ash was a bone of contention between Nūr al-Dīn and Sultan Qilij Arslān II (r. 1156–1192), changing hands many times. In the beginning of 1160, during his campaign against Seljuk territory in the north, Nūr al-Dīn took it and destroyed its walls.45 Moreover, in 550/1155–56 he destroyed Dulūk, located just north of ῾Ayntāb, to such an extent that thereafter it did not emerge as a fortified place any more, only as a little village.46 A straight line of strongholds to the southwest of Kaysūn, namely Kaysūn – Ra῾bān (fol. 59r) – Barzamān (not in ms.) – ῾Ayntāb (fol. 57v) – Burj al-Raṣāṣ (not in ms.) – Rāwandān (not in ms.), marks the northwestern angle of Nūr al-Dīn’s state, as from here the line continues to the south. The region to the northwest of that line, the Kurd Mountains (Kurd Dağı), circumscribed by the River ῾Afrīn (Afrin Çayı), is bordered at its western flank by the plain of İslahiye. Both areas were devoid of fortifications in the Middle Ages, in fact a no man’s land, and thus constituting an ideal buffer zone. The next strongholds of the enemy were as far away as Hārūniyya and Sirfandakār in the Amanus Mountains (Nur Dağları), both held by the Armenians at that time. To the south the line of border fortresses continued thus: Rawandān – A῾zāz (fol. 57r) – Bāsūṭā (not in ms.) – ῾Imm (not in ms.) – Ḥārim (fol. 58v) – Salqīn (not in ms.) – Tall ῾Ammār (not in ms.) – Burj Hāb (not in ms.) – Ināb (not in ms.) – Qasṭūn (not in ms.) – Afāmiya (not in ms.) – Shayzar (fol. 59v) – Ba῾rīn (not in ms.) – al-Rastan (fol. 60r) – Homs (fol. 60v) – Baalbek (fol. 62r) – al-Zabadānī (fol. 62r)/Majdal ῾Ayn al-Jarr – Bānyās (fol. 61v) – Bosra (fol. 61v) – Amman (fol. 62r). The north section from Rawandān to Ḥārim is dotted with fortifications. They were taken by Nūr al-Dīn in 1147 for the first time and finally after the Battle of ῾Ināb (June 1149), from then on defining the western border of his realm in that area. The southern ranges of the Kurd Mountains are located to the west of the ῾Afrīn Valley, bordering the Plain of Kırıkhan, i.e. the northern extension of the Amuq Plain. There are some fortified places in frontline position on the western foothills of the Kurd Mountains, which were in the hands of Nūr al-Dīn since 1147: Kūmīth, Shīkh al-Ḥadīd, Yaghrā, Ḥiṣn Bātrika and Artāḥ.47 However, it is not certain that they were all maintained in this period.48 45

Gregory the Priest, 277. Nūr al-Dīn kept it until 1166 or 1167, when he passed it back to Qilij Arslān II: Cahen, Syrie, p. 411. In 1173, however, he took it again and ceded it to Lord Mleh of Armenia who supported him in this campaign: Abū Shāma, Kitābal-rawḍataynfīakhbāraldawlatayn, ed. and tr. C. Barbier le Meynard, Le Livre des Deux Jardins ou Histoire des deux règnes,celuideNoured-DînetceluideSalahed-Dîn, RHC Hist. or. IV (1898) p. 159. 46 Ibn Shaddād, Al-A῾lāq, 278. 47 Artāḥ was conquered by Nūr al-Dīn in 1147 and subsequently pillaged: Kamāl al-Dīn, Zubdat, 7; Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Kāmil, 461. It was taken again two years later by Nūr al-Dīn’s military commander Shīrkūh who received it as an iqṭā῾. It seems to have lost importance in this period, for in 1177 it merely emerged as a rather squalid place: Cahen, Syrie, p. 134. 48 For Shīkh al-Ḥadīd a condominium between the Principality of Antioch and Nūr al-Dīn is reported for the period prior to 1181: Kamāl al-Dīn, Zubdat,69.

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The Amuq Plain, stretching from ῾Imm to the outskirts of Antioch, formed an ideal buffer zone, as in the Middle Ages it was marshland with a lake in its centre. The opposing Crusader castles, Ḥajjar Shughlān (Cr. Roche-Guillaume), Darbasāk (Cr. Trapesac), and Baghrās (Cr. Gaston), were located further west, beyond the Amuq Plain in the Amanus Mountains. An additional defensive measure taken by Nūr al-Dīn in this period was the settlement of Turkmen around Artāḥ.49 A place of utmost strategic importance was Ḥārim (Cr. Harenc), as it not only commanded the entire south section of the Amuq Plain from an elevated position, but also enabled one to control the main road from Aleppo to Antioch, as well as the access to the Jabal al-A῾lā and the Jabal Barīsha. For the Crusaders, Ḥārim constituted a frontier fortress protecting Antioch to the east, whereas for Nūr al-Dīn it formed the cornerstone of his realm in this section. Therefore, it is hardly surprising that it was heavily fought over between the Crusaders and their Islamic opponents, finally taken by Nūr al-Dīn in 1164.50 To the south the line is continued by Salqīn and Tall ῾Ammār in the Jabal Duwaylī, as well as Burj Hāb and ῾Ināb, both in the Jabal Zāwiya. These fortifications, all in Nūr al-Dīn’s hands since 1149, were certainly of minor importance. On the other hand, this section is marked by favourable topographical conditions. In its northern part, the mountain ranges of the Jabal Barīshā and the Jabal Duwaylī formed a natural barrier, while in its southern part the wetland area of the Rūj Basin served the same purpose.51 In addition, there were only minor fortifications on the Crusader side, to the north the cave fortresses Darkūsh, Shaqīf Dubbīn and Bazmashān/Shaqīf Talmīsh, to the south Tall Kashfahān and Arzghān, all of these lined up along the River Orontes, which served as an informal border in this area. Tall Kashfahān and Arzghān were located on either side of the river, immediately north of the ancient bridge at today’s Jisr al-Shughūr. They controlled an important hub on the routes from Aleppo to Latakia and from Antioch to Afāmiya.52 Therefore, their possession was of vital interest for the Crusaders and Nūr al-Dīn alike. Both places were a bone of contention from 1149 onwards, with Arzghān’s castle finally being completely destroyed by the latter in 1162.53 This measure casts a light on Nūr al-Dīn’s border policy, which was driven by a penchant to utilize natural conditions, with a predilection of mountain ranges as natural barriers with extended plains in front of them. 49

Cahen, Syrie, p. 407. On this struggle see now A.D. Buck, “The Castle and Lordship of Ḥārim and the FrankishMuslim Frontier of Northern Syria in the Twelfth Century”, Al-Masāq 28 (2016): 113-131. 51 Jacques Besançon and Bernard Geyer, “La cuvette du Ruǧ (Syrie du Nord). Les conditions naturelles et les étapes de la mise en valeur”, Syria 72 (1995): 307-355. 52 For the twelfth-century road system in that area see B. Major, MedievalRuralSettlements intheSyrianCoastalRegion(12thand13thCenturies) (Oxford, 2015), pp. 120-129. 53 Gregory the Priest, 279. There is no information on the fate of Tall Kashfahān in this period, though it may have been destroyed as well. Saladin pitched camp here in 1188, before conquering the twin fortress al-Shughūr-wa-Bakās nearby. 50

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These lowlands could easily be kept under surveillance and were used as a deployment zone for troops. Thus it is comprehensible that Nūr al-Dīn preferred to destroy outlying places than to keep them, even if they could have been of strategic importance.54 In this regard, Tall Kashfahān and Arzghān were located beyond the hypothetical frontline, too much exposed to nearby Crusader fortifications such as Burzayh and Shughūr-Bakās. Further south, the fortifications of Qasṭūn, Afāmiya, and Shayzar, with Kafarṭāb and Laṭmīn to be added, formed a line which exactly follows the western edge of the Jabal Zāwiya, just as if they would frame the mountain range on its west side, with the large plain of the Ghāb to the east. The Ghāb Plain, watered by the River Orontes, was marshland until it was drained in the 1950s, thus acting as a natural moat in front of the Jabal Zāwiya. Nūr al-Dīn spent much effort on the upkeep of these frontline fortifications. The earthquake damages of 1157 were rapidly repaired55 and the fortifications kept well-garrisoned, as indicated by the unsuccessful attack of Crusader forces in that same year on the CastrumRugium,56 identified with the fortification on the tell of Qasṭūn.57 Another case in point is Shayzar (fol. 59v–60r), a hub on the Orontes River dominating the south section of the Ghāb Plain, a site which comprised a citadel, a walled suburb and a fortified bridge (ḥiṣnal-jisr).58 Nūr al-Dīn seized it immediately after the earthquakes of July/August 1157, which caused the death of the ruling family, and set out to repair its walls, fearing an attack of the Crusaders.59 The latter took advantage of Nūr al-Dīn’s severe illness in October this year and besieged the city which they took.60 The loss of Afāmiya to Nūr al-Dīn in 1149 deprived the Crusaders, in particular the Principality of Antioch, of the key position for the control of the Ghāb Plain, which in addition decisively weakened their ability to control the area of the Ismā῾īlīs, a quasi-autonomous territory in the Jabal al-Anṣāriyya. 54 This policy was already pursued by Nūr al-Dīn’s predecessor ῾Imād al-Dīn Zankī, when he destroyed places such as al-Athārib and Raqqa: T. El-Azhari, ZengiandtheMuslimResponseto theCrusades:ThepoliticsofJihad (Abingdon, 2016), p. 143. 55 Abū l-Fidā’, Al-MukhtaṣarfīAkhbāral-Bashar, ed. and tr. W. McGuckin de Slane [RHC Hist. or. I] (1872), p. 504; Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 340-341. 56 William of Tyre, Chronicon XVIII 17, II: 835. 57 J.-P. Fourdrin, “Qasṭūn et Chastel de Ruge”, Syria 72 (1995): 415-426. 58 Fol. 59v: burj al-jisr; further Usāma ibn Munqidh, Kitāb al-I῾tibār, ed. H. Derenbourg, Ousâma ibn Mounḳidh, un émir syrien au premier siècle des Croisades (1095-1188), Deuxième partie:Textearabedel’autobiographied’Ousâmapubliéd’aprèslemanscritdel’Escurial (Paris, 1886), pp. 63, 67, 108, 110, 158, 161, 162. 59 On the works of Nūr al-Dīn at Shayzar see C. Tonghini, ShayzarI.TheFortificationof theCitadel (Leiden, 2011), p. 35-36, 71-75, 76-79; C. Tonghini, “The fortification works of Nūr al-Dīn at the citadel of Shayzar”, in GuerreetpaixauProche-Orientmédiéval,Xe-XVesiècle (in print). 60 William of Tyre, Chronicon XVIII 18, II: 836-837. The citadel, however, withstood the assault, which implies that it had been in a defendable state of repair. The Crusaders were finally driven away by a host of Ismā῾īlīs: Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 342.

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The latter acted as a buffer zone, especially for Hama, for which reason Nūr al-Dīn may have seen no need to build fortifications between Shayzar and Ba῾rīn. The region to the south of this area was less well defended, as there were no fortifications of significance west of Homs. The Orontes Valley with the Lake of Homs (Buḥayrat Qaṭṭīna) was left unfortified,61 turning Homs itself into a border fortress. This is especially notable, as the opposing area around the Gap of Homs, a natural passage between the Jabal Anṣāriyya and Mount Lebanon, was dotted with fortifications of the Crusaders, with Ḥiṣn al-Akrad (Crac des Chevaliers) as the key fortress of the area, although the castle from before 1170 was much less fortified than the present one.62 Nevertheless, it was the starting point for raids against Homs and Hama,63 with its commander regarded “as a bone in the gullets of the Muslims”.64 The vulnerability of Homs, a station on the Damascus-Aleppo road of considerable importance, may have led Nūr al-Dīn to renew its walls, as indicated in the manuscript (fol. 60v).65 As at Aleppo and Damascus, this renewal entailed a considerable enhancement of the fortifications. The vulnerability and exposed nature of the city is also attested to by the frequent raids Nūr al-Dīn undertook against fortified places along the Gap of Homs, in order to keep his major opponent at bay.66 A place of comparable significance was Baalbek, the central hub of the Beqaa Valley. Its location on the foothills of the Anti-Lebanon Mountains facilitated control of the vast plain, which served as a natural trench of separation between Crusader and Muslim spheres of influence throughout the entire Crusader period. It was a place of vital importance for the security of Damascus, for which reason any ruler of that city was eager to get a hold on it. Accordingly, Nūr al-Dīn tried to take possession of Baalbek after his conquest of Damascus in April 1154. He succeeded in this not until more than one year later, on 9 June 1155, due to the reluctance of its wālī, Ḍaḥḥāk al-Biqā῾ī, to surrender the city to him.67 The 61 Except some towers such as Burj Balqīs on the northern end of the dam of the Lake of Homs: B. Major, “Muslim Towers in the Medieval Syrian Countryside”, in ContinuityandChangeinthe RealmsofIslam.StudiesinHonourofProfessorUrbainVermeulen, eds. K. D’hulster and J. Van Steenbergen (Leuven, 2008), pp. 429-430. This may have been one of the towers “between the lands of the Muslims and the Franks” erected by Nūr al-Dīn: Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkh, 311. 62 J. Zimmer, W. Meyer and L. Boscardin, Krak des Chevaliers in Syrien. Archäologie und Bauforschung2003bis2007 (Braubach, 2011), pp. 246-249, 345-351. 63 Ibn Jubayr, Riḥla, ed. W. Wright, TheTravelsofIbnJubayr,editedfromams.intheUniversityLibraryofLeyden (Leiden, 2nd ed. 1907), pp. 255, 258. 64 Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Kāmil, 571-572. Literally “grief” (shājā), certainly a pun on the preceding shajā῾a (bravery) in the text. 65 However, the entry for the perimeter of the renewed city wall (al-sūr al-mujaddad) is followed by a lacuna in the text, which may indicate that the works were not yet finished by 1168–69. 66 Against Arima/῾Arayma in 1148, 1152, 1167 and 1171, against Chastel Rouge/Qal῾at Yaḥmūr in 1152 and 1167, against Chastel Blanc/Ṣāfītā in 1152, 1167 and 1171, against Archas/῾Arqā in 1167 and 1171, against Crac/Ḥiṣn al-Akrād in 1162, and against Gibelacar/῾Akkār and Albe/Ḥalbā in 1167. 67 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 322-323. The year 552/1157–58, related by Abū l-Fidā’, Al-Mukhtaṣar, 32, and Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Kāmil, 508, may rather refer to a visit of Nūr al-Dīn in April 1157 “in

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significance of Baalbek is underlined by the mention of the route from Damascus to Baalbek in the manuscript (fol. 62r). Although a garrison stationed there would have been efficient enough to control the Beqaa Valley, Nūr al-Dīn nonetheless sought to improve his sway over this vast area. Therefore, by taking advantage of the imprisonment of Raymond III of Tripoli in 1166, he occupied the castle of Munayṭira,68 a sentinel at the high-lying pass on the road from the Beqaa Valley to Beirut, located opposite Baalbek in the Lebanon Mountains.69 The key position of this castle may be perceived from the fact that there were no other Crusader fortifications in that area, with even the coastal hinterland between Beirut and Tripoli being almost devoid of significant strongholds.70 There was only one castle from which the Beqaa Valley could be harassed, ῾Akkār or Gibelacar, as it was called by the Crusaders, which Nūr al-Dīn took one year later.71 The south section of the Beqaa Valley was commanded by another important castle, that of Majdal ῾Anjār. The site, a former Roman temple, had been transformed into a veritable castle, which was conquered by Nūr al-Dīn’s father Zankī in 1137. Its location on the foothills of the Anti-Lebanon Mountains is comparable to that of Baalbek, as well as its strategic importance. East of this stronghold lay al-Zabadānī, mentioned on fol. 62r of the manuscript as a road station on the route from Damascus to Baalbek. A second route branched off here, leading via Majdal ῾Anjār to Beirut, more or less following the modern Damascus-Beirut road. East of this area, Nūr al-Dīn benefited from the settlement of the Buḥturids and other tribes by the Būrid Atabegs of Damascus in the aftermath of the Crusader conquest of Beirut in 1110. Before the reunification of Syria, these tribes played an ambiguous role, establishing quasi-autonomous dominions in regions south of Beirut such as the Gharb, the Shūf and the Kharrūb, and even controlling the coast between Sidon and Beirut. Their most powerful leader, however, the Emir of the Gharb, Zahr al-Dawla Karāma ibn Buḥtur, favoured Nūr al-Dīn, the new ruler of Damascus, and in return received the Gharb, areas in the Beqaa Valley and the Wādī al-Taym as an iqṭā῾ in 1161.72 It is indicative in this context that two of these villages, Tha῾labayyā opposite Shtūra, on the aforementioned road order to investigate its condition”, certainly due to reports of earthquake damages, “and attend to the organization of the garrison troops in it”: Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 330. 68 Kamāl al-Dīn, Zubdat, 33-34; Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkh, 235-236; Ibn Wāṣil, Mufarriǧ al-KurūbfīAkhbārBanīAyyūb, ed. J. al-Shayyāl, volumes I-III (al-Qāhira, 1953), I: 148. 69 The Zankid occupation of that place was albeit short-lived, as it appears again in Crusader hands after Nūr al-Dīn’s death. 70 There was a castle at Buissera (Bsharrī) in the Qādīshā Valley which, however, was not a very strong one. 71 Elisséeff, Nūrad-Dīn, I: 240. It was, however, retaken by the Crusaders in 1170. 72 K.S. Salibi, “The Buḥturids of the Ġarb. Mediaeval Lords of Beirut and of Southern Lebanon”, Arabica 8 (1961): 74-97, esp. 79-82.

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from Damascus to Beirut, and Ḍahr al-Aḥmar, on the road between the Beqaa Valley and the Wādī al-Taym, were important road stations at key routes on the fringes of Nūr al-Dīn’s realm. Nonetheless, the fact that al-Zabadānī is mentioned as the westernmost road station in the manuscript clearly indicates that in this period the line Majdal ῾Anjār–Bānyās marked the western extension of Nūr al-Dīn’s dominion, the more so as the southern section of the Wādī alTaym was dominated by the Crusader castle at Ḥāsbayā, which came into Zankid hands only in 1172 when the Bānū Shihāb took it over and received the whole Wādī al-Taym as an iqṭā῾. Further south lies the town of Bānyās (fol. 61v), which was of a high strategic relevance for the security of Damascus, not unlike Ḥārim which acted as a forward post of Aleppo. Both may be regarded as cornerstones of Nūr al-Dīn’s dominion, their possession being of vital importance for the protection of the urban centres of the Zankid state, as well as for the communication along arterial roads. This importance is underlined by providing its distance to Damascus in the manuscript (fol. 61v). Vice versa, the place was of comparable importance for the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, being not only a hub on the road from Damascus to Tyre and Acre, but also a bulwark against inroads from Damascus and a forward base for attacks against that city. Additionally, its possession made it possible to benefit from the crop yield generated in the Huleh Plain, which was well cultivated in that period.73 Accordingly, Bānyās was one of the places most fought over between the Crusaders and their Muslim opponents. Nūr al-Dīn attacked it in 1153, 1157 and 1164. Although in 1157 his troops took and destroyed the town and even launched a second attack later this year, the citadel withstood the assault. Only in 1164 was he finally able to capture the town and its citadel, which he both rebuilt.74 Three years later, Nūr al-Dīn used Bānyās as a base to conquer Hūnīn (Cr. Chastel Neuf), located on the opposite side of the Huleh Plain, only 14 km to the west of Bānyās as the crow flies. This he did despite the fact that the vast and well cultivated area between the two places was covered by a treaty with the Crusaders, in which the splitting of the revenues was stipulated.75 However, his objective was rather to prevent the enemy from menacing his border fortresses from fortified places nearby than to benefit more from the revenues. By the complete razing of the walls of Hūnīn he pursued the same policy as at places such as Mar῾ash, Bahasnā, Dulūk and Arzghān in the north, which were all destroyed or had their fortifications razed. Nūr al-Dīn already acted in that way in the attack on Bānyās in 1157, during which he located troops before Hūnīn 73

Ibn Jubayr, Riḥla, ed. and tr., RHC Hist. or. III (1884), p. 446. William of Tyre, Chronicon XIX 10, II: 876-877, misdated to 1176; Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkh, 233-234; Michael the Syrian, Maktbānútzabne, tr. J.-B. Chabot, ChroniquedeMichelleSyrien, patriarchejacobited’Antioche(1166-1199), 4 vols (Paris, 1905), III: 326. 75 Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Kāmil, 541. 74

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to fend off advances from there. In the case of Hūnīn, he also sought to remove an impediment on the key route to the coast. The territories further south, such as the Golan Heights and the hilly area between the Yarmūk Valley and the River Zarqā’, comprising the historical regions al-Sawād (Cr. Terre de Sueth) to the north and Jabal ῾Awf to the south, were almost devoid of fortified places.76 The reason for this may be that these areas were regarded as common ground, administrated as condominia (munāṣafāt),77 with their revenues being shared from the early twelfth century onwards.78 According to a later record the above mentioned treaty concluded in 1164 after Nūr al-Dīn’s conquest of Bānyās comprised an even larger area, the district of al-Salṭ, the Balqā’, Jabal ῾Awf, al-Ḥayāniyya, al-Sawād, the Golan and the Hauran.79 During Nūr al-Dīn’s reign the Crusaders only held three fortified places there, the northernmost being the cave castle of al-Ḥabīs Jaldak (Cr. Cave de Sueth) above a tributary of the River Yarmūk 18 km north of Irbid.80 Although it was primarily an outpost, dedicated to enforce the collection of duties,81 it marks the extension of the Crusaders’ sphere of influence in this area.82 Therefore, the Zankid border zone in this section is defined by the fortified places of Ṣanamayn (fol. 61v),83 Jabal ῾Awf is the territory of ῾Ajlūn. For a different view see C. Devais, “A Seigneury on the Eastern Borders of the Kingdom of Jerusalem: The TerredeSuète”, in StudiesintheArchaeologyoftheMedievalMediterranean, ed. J.G. Schryver (Leiden, 2010), pp. 71-91. However, the Crusader presence there was rather ephemeral, not comparable to the lordship of Oultrejourdain further south. It was a demilitarized zone where no larger fortifications were allowed to be built and for which the current agreements provided that one party had to notify the other about military activities: William of Tyre, Chronicon XVI 8, II: 724. Furthermore, there is a clear statement that the town of Gadara (Umm Qays) on the east side of the Jordan Valley marked the border between Crusader and Islamic territories in 1147: ibid., XVI 13, II: 733. 78 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 113, for the first of a series of similar arrangements, concluded in 1111. See further Köhler, Allianzen, pp. 110-111, 316-317, 331. 79 Abū Shāma, Kitābal-Rawḍatayn, 277, citing ῾Imād al-Dīn here. 80 P. Deschamps, “Deux positions stratégiques des Croisés à l’est du Jourdain: Ahamant et el-Habis”, Revuehistorique 172 (1933): 42-57; id., “Une grotte-forteresse des Croisés au delà du Jourdain: El Habis en Terre de Suète”, Journalasiatique 227 (1935): 285-299; D. Nicolle, “῾Ain al-Ḥabīs. The Cave de Sueth”, Archéologie médiévale 18 (1988): 113-140. A second Crusader outpost further east, Adhri῾āt (now Dar῾ā), the Adratum or Cité de Bernard d’Estampes of the Crusaders, had been finally lost by 1147: William of Tyre, Chronicon XVI 10, II: 728. 81 For an overview of villages in that area which were tributary to the Crusaders see G. Beyer, “Die Kreuzfahrergebiete Akko und Galiläa”, Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 67 (1945): 222-224; S. Mittmann, BeiträgezurSiedlungs-undSozialgeschichtedesnördlichenOstjordanlandes (Wiesbaden, 1970), pp. 246-255; H.-E. Mayer, DieKreuzfahrerherrschaftMontréal (Šōbak):Jordanienim12.Jahrhundert (Wiesbaden, 1990), pp. 249-253. 82 In 1158 an attempt by Nūr al-Dīn to take it was driven back: William of Tyre, Chronicon XVIII 21, II: 841-842. 83 In 1126 Ṣanamayn was called castrumSalome by Fulcher of Chartres, HistoriaHierosolymitana III 50, ed. H. Wallon, RHC Hist. occ. III (1866), p. 477, and in 1217 Magister Thietmar saw “a destroyed town, which nevertheless featured many towers that were all constructed in a plain but admirable way, without cement or any other adhesive”: Thietmar, Peregrinatio III 12, ed. J.C.M. Laurent, Mag.Thietmariperegrinatio.AdfidemcodicisHamburgensis (Hamburg, 1857), p. 9. 76 77

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Muzayrīb, Adhri῾at/Dar῾a,84 and Bosra (fol. 61v), which was one of the reasons why Nūr al-Dīn strengthened the ancient theatre of Bosra with new fortifications (see below). The two other fortified places of the Crusaders in this area were located in the Balqā’, which in fact was part of the lordship of Oultrejourdain.85 One was an unidentified cave castle, conquered by them in 1139 and again in 1157, after it had been lost shortly before.86 The other one was Amman, where the acropolis of the Roman city had already been fortified as a citadel by the Umayyads. As a fief of the lordship of Oultrejourdain it was in Crusader hands at least since the 1130s, as it had already been part of the barony of Pagan the Butler (1130/31 – c. 1150).87 Amman had been entrusted to the Templars by Philip of Nablus, at the very day of his accession to this order at the end of 1165 or the beginning of 1166, together with half of his possessions in the Balqā’.88 The establishment of the Templars in the Balqā’ during the 1160s has a parallel in the location of the Hospitallers at Kerak in 1152. These measures followed a common trend observable in all Crusader states, aiming at the enhancement of defensive capabilities and an improved protection of the areas under their dominion. Hitherto, it was assumed that the Templars had lost Amman prior to 1170.89 The manuscript, however, provides us with new evidence. Accordingly, the citadel of Amman must have been taken by Nūr al-Dīn before 564/1168–69 and used as a fortification, a fact which had been overlooked heretofore.90 Nūr al-Dīn, or better Shīrkūh, the commander of his standing army, may have ousted the Templar garrison from Amman already by 1166, immediately after their installation, together with the above mentioned cave castle in the Balqā’, which Shīrkūh took from the Templars during the

84

For Muzayrīb and Adhri῾āt/Dar῾ā see: G. Schumacher, AcrosstheJordan:BeinganExplorationandSurveyofPartofHauranandJaulan (London, 1889), pp. 146, 165. Their fortifications were nonetheless weak, in the case of the latter the main device of protection consisted of an extended underground “city” beneath the Karak hill, in which people sought shelter in the event of an attack: ibid., p. 136-146; William of Tyre, Chronicon XVI 10, II: 728, relating this for 1147. 85 Its northern border was the River Jabbok (Nahr al-Zarqā’): RRH no. 366 from 1161. 86 William of Tyre, Chronicon XV 6, XVIII 19, II: 681-684, 838. It was located in finibus AmonitarumiuxtaMontemGalaad, specifying the region south of the River Jabbok (Nahr al-Zarqā’). It is tempting to assume that this was the cave castle east of Jordan, held by the Templars, which had been taken by Nūr al-Dīn’s general Shīrkūh during the third year of the reign of King Amalric I of Jerusalem (1165/1166): ibid., XIX 11, II: 879. Its identification with the cave of al-Raqīm or Ahl al-Kahf (Cave of the Seven Sleepers) 7 km southeast of Amman’s city centre, mentioned by Mayer, Kreuzfahrerherrschaft, p. 162, remains doubtful, as its setting contradicts the topographic features provided by William of Tyre. 87 RRH n° 366; Mayer,Kreuzfahrerherrschaft, pp. 110-114. 88 J.M. Delaville Le Roulx, “Chartes de Terre Sainte”, Revuedel’Orientlatin 11 (1905-1908): 183-185 no. II. 89 Mayer, Kreuzfahrerherrschaft, p. 162. 90 On fol. 62r, where its dimensions are given, indicating that it ranked among the fortified places of the Zankid state.

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“third year of King Amalric’s reign” (18 February 1165–17 February 1166).91 Nūr al-Dīn’s motives behind this are quite clear. On the one hand, he was eager to prevent such a powerful enemy from establishing himself on the south flank of his state. On the other hand, he cared about the safety of the roads, in particular the Ḥajj route, the main artery in this region, for which Amman served as an important traffic hub.92 With the conquest of Amman, Nūr al-Dīn had not only pushed the borders of his state further south, providing it with a new “cornerstone”, but had also established a bulwark against the Crusader dominion of Oultrejourdain.93 SURVEYING IN THE

PRE-AYYŪBID PERIOD

Surveying was highly developed in the Arabic world of the Middle Ages, ranking among the sciences (῾ilmal-misāḥa) and comprising a wider range of aspects than the modern term “geodesy” implies.94 It was closely interrelated with other disciplines such as geometry, mathematics and astronomy. Indeed, from the ninth century onwards, there was a rich body of treatises and writings on all subjects related to land surveying and the measurement of distances. They indicate that one of the main reasons for this was the collection of land taxes, calculated according to the size of landed property. Surveys were conducted on a regular basis and surveying was a highly professional discipline. According to al-Makhzūmī (d. 585/1189), they were executed by a team consisting of an inspector (mushārif), an administrator (῾āmil), a surveyor (māṣih) who directed the assistants (qaṣṣāb), and attestors (shāhid).95 Practically, measurements of lengths were performed by using different types of measuring rods (qaṣaba, Pl. aqṣāb), 91 William of Tyre, Chronicon XIX 11, II: 879. The fact that it is mentioned at the end of the events in that year supports this assumption. 92 This is explicitly stated for Nūr al-Dīn’s campaign against Crusader Kerak in 1170: Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Kāmil, 570; id., Al-Ta’rīkh, 260. 93 Other key places in the region such as ῾Ajlūn, Salṭ, Tall Ḥisbān etc. were obviously, as far as is known, not used as fortified places by the Crusaders. During the Ayyūbid and Mamlūk periods they were furnished with new fortifications: M. Milwright, “Central and Southern Jordan in the Ayyubid Period: Historical and Archaeological Perspectives”, JournaloftheRoyalAsiatic Society 16 (2006): 1-27. 94 H. Schirmer, “Misāḥa, ῾Ilm al-”, in: EI2, VII: 135-137. See further H. Minow, “Der Beitrag der Araber zur Entwicklung des Vermessungswesens im Mittelalter”, DerVermessungsingenieur 28 (1979): 50-57; J.-C. Ducène, “Mesure de distances et arpentage dans le monde musulman médiéval: entre théorie et pratique”, in Mesure et histoire médiévale. XLIIIe Congrès de la SHMESP, ed. Société des historiens médiévistes de l’Enseignement supérieur public (Paris, 2013), pp. 281-292; id., “Méthodes d’arpentage en Égypte ayyoubide et mamelouke”, inEgyptandSyria intheFatimid,AyyubidandMamlukErasVIII, eds. U. Vermeulen, K. D’hulster and J. Van Steenbergen (Leuven, 2016), pp. 187-196. 95 Al-Makhzūmī, Kitāb al-minhāǧ fī ῾ilm ḫarāǧ Miṣr, ed. C. Cahen and Y. Raghib (Cairo, 1986), p. 61.

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as well as knotted cords or chains of definite lengths. There existed a measurement unit of Babylonian-Persian origin, the “cord” or “chain” (ashl), which measured 60 Hāshimī cubits, equal to 39.9 m.96 For long-distance measurements there were also sighting instruments, although no specific devices are recorded.97 The results and necessary calculations were then written down in a record called qundāq. The prosaic character of the content of the manuscript, which in fact is nothing but a plain listing of survey data, indicates that it represents a compilation of such records. Just like the regular surveys for the collection of data for fiscal purposes, the data contained in the manuscript must have been obtained on an official mission, most probably on behalf of Nūr al-Dīn himself. That these data were the result of professional surveying is attested to by the high degree of accuracy which can be inferred from the figures given in the manuscript for the dimensions of buildings, for the circumferences of fortification walls and for distances between places, often using fractions of larger units. This is corroborated by several indications in the text, for example at the citadel of Homs (fol. 60v), where it is specified that the length of both the main wall and the outer wall were measured on the wall-walk (mamshā). This suggests that the manuscript has to be regarded as an official record in which survey data from all the listed objects were compiled. The specification of data of various kinds, that is circumferences of castle and town walls, dimensions of prominent public buildings and distances between places, implies that at least two different types of survey teams were employed. Those concerned with long-distance measurements were land surveyors while those measuring the dimensions of public buildings were probably affiliated to the armed forces of the state. THE MEASUREMENT UNITS OF THE

MANUSCRIPT

As in earlier periods of history, the Arabic world made use of standardized units of measurement for all kinds of surveying and for staking out plots of land or foundations of buildings. A considerable amount of studies has been published on the subject.98 It has been demonstrated that the principal unit for the latter was the cubit (al-dhirā῾), variants of which are of different descent and for which different dimensions are recorded.99 The cubit was commonly divided 96 H. Sauvaire, “Matériaux pour servir à l’histoire de la numismatique et de la métrologie musulmanes: Quatrième et dernière partie. Mesures de longueur et de superficie”, Journalasiatique VIII. sér. 8 (1886): 479-536, esp. 481-482. 97 Ducène, “Mesure de distances”, p. 286; N. Prouteau, “Mensuratorescastrorum. Les arpenteurs militaries au Moyen Âge”, in ChâteauxetMesures.Actesdes17esjournéesdecastellologiede Bourgogne23-24octobre2010,châteaudePierreclos, ed. H. Mouillebouche (Chagny, 2011), p. 66. 98 Seminal works on Arabic measurement units are Sauvaire, “Matériaux”, and W. Hinz, IslamischeMasse undGewichteumgerechnetinsmetrischeSystem, Leiden 1955. 99 Sauvaire, “Matériaux”, pp. 489-514; W. Hinz, “Dhirā῾”, in EI2, II: 231-232.

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into 6 palms (qabaḍāt) or 24 fingerbreadths (aṣba’an). In the pre-Ayyūbid era there were three main types of the cubit, the “legal” cubit (al-dhirā῾al-shar῾iyya), the “royal” or “king’s” cubit(al-dhirā῾al-malik) and the “black” cubit (al-dhirā῾ al-sawdā’). The legal cubit measured 49.875 cm, while the king’s cubit, which was also called “Hāshimī” cubit (al-dhirā῾ al-Hāshimiyya), comprised eight palms, instead of six, of the former, thus being 66.51 cm long. For the black cubit, different dimensions are recorded. One of them, probably derived from geodetic measurements during the ῾Abbāsid period, had a length of about 49.3 cm. The Nilometer in Cairo, in its present state tracing back to a reconstruction by the ῾Abbāsid caliph al-Mutawakkil in 863, features a black cubit of 54.04 cm, adopting ancient Egyptian traditions in measurement.100 The manuscript features four different units of measurement: • • • •

al-dhirā῾, “the” cubit, without further specification al-dhirā῾al-Qāsimī, the Qāsimī cubit al-dhirā῾bi-l-yad, the “hand” cubit al-farsakh, the parasang

The latter two are well known: The (Egyptian) hand cubit was equal to the legal cubit, thus measuring 49.875 cm. The parasang is a measurement unit of Old Persian origin which was widely used in the medieval Arab world, in particular for long distance measurements. It is usually divided into 3 Arabic miles (mīl, Pl. amyāl) of 4,000 legal cubits, thus amounting to 5,985 m.101 The length of the unspecified (common) cubit has yet to be assessed, although there is a good case to believe that it represents one of the known cubit measures. For its evaluation, some specifications given in the manuscript can be adduced: 1. City wall of al-Rāfiqa (fol. 62v): The wall, which was erected on behalf of the ῾Abbāsid caliph al-Manṣūr in 155/772, is distinctly traceable still today.102 Therefore, it is an ideal example for a counter-check of the specifications quoted in the manuscript. According to the latter, its circumference measured 9,033 cubits. Furthermore, 132 towers are mentioned but not the citadel, which was attached to the westernmost section of the south wall.103 In 1983, in the course of restoration 100 H. Prell, “Die Schwarzen Ellen der Araber”, ZeitschriftderDeutschenMorgenländischen Gesellschaft 110 (1960): 26-42. 101 Sauvaire, “Matériaux”, pp. 520-524; Hinz, Islamische Masse, p. 62; id., “Farsakh”, in EI2, II: 812-813. 102 F. Sarre and E. Herzfeld, Archäologische Reise im Euphrat- und Tigrisgebiet, 4 vols (Berlin 1911, 1920), I: 156-161, II: 356-359; Creswell, EarlyMuslimArchitecture, II: 39-45; M. al-Khalaf, “Die ῾abbāsidische Stadtmauer von ar-Raqqa/ar-Rāfiqa”, DamaszenerMitteilungen 2 (1985): 123-131. 103 On which, see: S. Heidemann, “Die Zitadelle von ar-Rāfiqa”, in RaqqaIII.Baudenkmälerund PalästeI, ed. V. Daiber and A. Becker (Mainz, 2004), pp. 49-55; id., “The Citadel of al-Raqqa and Fortifications in the Middle Euphrates Area”, in MuslimMilitaryArchitectureinGreaterSyria.From theComingofIslamtotheOttomanPeriod, ed. H. Kennedy (Leiden, 2006), pp. 122-150. The citadel, which was rebuilt during the Ayyūbid period, may have fallen into disuse in Nūr al-Dīn’s time.

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works the walls were subjected to a survey.104 Accordingly, the (main) wall was determined to have a circumference of c. 4,580 m. Nūr al-Dīn’s surveyors, however, most probably performed the measurements on the wall-walk as at other sites, for which reason a slightly lesser length of the wall, which is nonetheless 6.20 m thick, may have resulted. Hence the relevant circumference is about 4,510 m, which leads to a length of the unspecified cubit of 49.93 cm.105 2. City wall and citadel of Ḥarrān (fol. 62v): The city wall had a circumference of 7,612 cubits, according to the manuscript. Its course was not changed since the early Islamic period and is still fairly well traceable.106 Excluding the citadel at its south-east section,107 the circumference of the wall amounts to 3,798 m, thus resulting in a length for the unspecified cubit of 49.89 cm. The citadel had been rebuilt by Nūr al-Dīn after the earthquake of 1157. The extension of the citadel in this stage was determined by an earlier survey, for which reason it may be adduced as well (Fig. 3).108 According to the manuscript its circumference measured 528 cubits. The sections attributed to Nūr al-Dīn amount to a perimeter of 263 m, leading to a length of the cubit of 49.85 cm. 3. Bosra, Birkat al-Ḥajj (fol. 62r): In the manuscript, the following dimensions are quoted for “the outer birka outside the castle”:109 “west to east 320 cubits, south to north 250 cubits, its circumference 1,142 cubits”. The huge open cistern still exists but has rarely been studied.110 It is of Roman origin, which is corroborated by its outer dimensions.111 Nūr al-Dīn’s surveyors, however, seem to have measured the inner width, most probably for an assessment of the capacity of the basin. The latter is not exactly rectangular, with the inner dimensions 104

Ibid., 130-131. The converse argument that the circumference of 4,580 m, which refers to a measurement at the base of the wall on the field side, should be used to define the dimension of the cubit, does not lead to a suitable result, as the cubit would thus have a length of 50.7 cm, a dimension for which no source reference exists and which cannot be associated with the known Islamic measurement units. 106 S. Lloyd and W. Brice, “Harran”, AnatolianStudies 1 (1951): 77-111. A section on the southwest side has recently been exposed. 107 That the citadel was not included in the survey of the circumference is not explicitly stated in the manuscript. From the case of Damascus (fol. 60v), however, it can be deduced that this was common practice. 108 H. Hanisch, “Die Zitadelle von Ḥarrān”, in Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid andMamlukErasIV, eds. U. Vermeulen and J. Van Steenbergen (Leuven, 2005), pp. 185-310, esp. 266. 109 There is no doubt that this refers to the Birkat al-Ḥajj, as the other birka east of the city has a square outline. 110 M. Meinecke, F. Aalund, Bosra.IslamischeArchitekturundArchäologie (Rahden, 2005), pp. 87-90. See further R.E. Brünnow, A. von Domaszewski, Die Provincia Arabia auf Grund zweierindenJahren1897u.1898unternommenenReisenundderBerichtefrühererReisender beschrieben, volumes I-III (Strassburg, 1904-1909), III: 42-43. 111 The north and south sides are c. 163 m long, equal to 550 Roman ft, the west side c. 126 m (425 Roman ft) and the east side c. 133 m (450 Roman ft). 105

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Fig. 3: Ḥarrān, citadel, green line representing rebuilding by Nūr al-Dīn (plan: Hanisch 2005, 190 Abb. 3)

differing for each side. Additionally, the calculated circumference is 1,140 cubits, not 1,142, as quoted. Therefore, the surveyors seem to have documented the mean value for the two directions. The east-west extension measures 159.5 m, the south-north extension 123.5 m, and the circumference c. 566 m. The calculated values for the cubit used are thus 49.84 cm, 49.40 cm and 49.56 cm. The evidence from all these examples is striking as the figures do not differ much. As the length of the unspecified cubit coincides quite accurately with that of the legal cubit, it is reasonable to assume that is identical to the latter.

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THE QĀSIMĪ CUBIT,

A SPECIFIC UNIT OF MEASUREMENT

The key measurement unit for the evaluation of this source is the Qāsimī cubit, as this is the unit used in the specification of almost all the castle and town walls quoted. It was introduced in the beginning of the eighth century and named after al-Qāsim bin Ziyād bin Bakr who was administrator of the Ghūṭa of Damascus. In his Ta’rīkhmadīnatDimashq Ibn ῾Asākir dedicated an entry to him:112 “Al-Qāsim bin Ziyād bin Bakr: To him the Qāsimī cubit is ascribed. Under ῾Umar bin ῾Abd al-῾Azīz [r. 717–720] he was governor of the Ghūṭa of Damascus, which he remained until the days of Hishām bin ῾Abd al-Malik [r. 724–743]. He is the one who had separated the streams of Damascus [i.e. organized the distribution of water] during the caliphate of Hishām.113 He gave account of Umar bin ῾Abd al-῾Azīz. Yaḥyā bin Hamẓa [d. 799], the qāḍī of Damascus, referred to him. Abū l-Ḥusayn al-Rāzī [d. 958]114 reported that the house [near the] house of Umm al-Banīn to the west of the church of St. John and the so-called ḥammām of Qāsim and the house, which partially belonged to the Banī Shu῾ayb and others, in the Qaḍiyya outside of the Bāb al-Farādīs,115 belonged to al-Qāsim bin Ziyād, the geodesist (ṣāḥib al-masāḥa). I was told that he had lived to 115 years of age.”

The earliest reference to the use of the Qāsimīcubit was made by Ibn ῾Asākir, who reported that in the surveying works associated with the construction of the Great Mosque of Damascus, which were commissioned by caliph al-Walīd I in 87/706, the Qāsimīcubit was employed.116 Due to its rare appearance in the sources it seems to have been used predominantly in Damascus and its territory. Its frequent mention in the manuscript reveals that it must have been an official unit of measurement in Nūr al-Dīn’s state, used primarily for urban surveying and the construction of buildings. When the Ayyūbids came to power they introduced new surveying standards, abandoning previous ones, for which reason the Qāsimīcubit does not feature any more in the sources of this period.117 For the assessment of the length of the Qāsimīcubit, specifications of existing structures described in the manuscript may be adduced: 1. Distance Dārayyā – Damascus (fol. 61r): The 10,500 Qāsimīcubits quoted in the manuscript correspond to about 7.5 km measured from the historic town centre of Dārayyā to the Bāb al-Jābiya in the southwest section of Damascus’s Ibn ῾Asākir, Ta’rīkh Madīna Dimashq, ed. A. Shīrī, volumes I-LXXX (Bayrūt, 1997): XLIX: 56 no. 5654. 113 N. Elisséeff, LadescriptiondeDamasd’Ibn῾Asākir(HistorienmortàDamasen571/1176) (Damas, 1959), pp. 250-252. 114 The works of Abū l-Ḥusayn Muḥammad bin ῾Abd Allāh al-Rāzī were one of the sources used by Ibn ῾Asākir: ibid., pp. XL-XLI. 115 The church referred to is the former Byzantine church of St. John, now the Jāmi῾ al-Sādāt al-Zaynabiyya: ibid., p. 152 no. 22. 116 Ibid., p. 37. 117 The Qāsimī cubit seems to have been employed for the last time in the surveying of Cairo in 567/1171–72: ibid., p. 37 n. 5. 112

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city wall. This would result in a length of the Qāsimīcubit of about 71.4 cm. As the point in Dārayyā from which the surveyors started is open to question, and as the distance is rather short, the reliability of this evaluation is limited, providing only a rough estimation. 2. Citadel of Homs (fol. 60v): The manuscript provides a circumference of its wall, “[measured] from the inside”, of 960 Qāsimīcubits, and that of its outer wall (faṣīl) of 1,606.75 Qāsimīcubits. The citadel of Homs was destroyed in the 1830s, for which reason only ruins are left today. In the framework of the 1995–2001 Syrian-British campaign to explore the ancient tell, these remains were recorded.118 In total, three concentric enceintes were determined, with the outer one surrounding the castle hill at its base. An intermediate enceinte further up, of which some remains are still discernible, including two of its D-shaped towers, predates the stone-lined glacis which once covered the slopes of the castle hill. It was thus interpreted as “early Islamic”, which is, however, misleading in some way. Nevertheless, it represents the pre-Ayyūbid building phase and has to be interpreted as the forewall of a double wall scheme, an arrangement often found at comparable fortifications of the period.119 The manuscript does not provide its dimensions, which may have been due to its destruction by the earthquake of 1157,120 with only the main wall having been rebuilt by Nūr al-Dīn.121 That the latter was in a defendable state of repair can be derived from the remark in the manuscript (fol. 60v) that the measures were conducted “on the wall-walk (mamshā)”. Although the extant structures are primarily attributable to the Ayyūbid and Mamlūk periods, there is no doubt that the line of the castle’s main wall, which is clearly traceable along the contour of the edge of the tell, has not changed since its foundation, most probably in the tenth century. Its circumference measures roughly 690 m, thus resulting in a length of the Qāsimī cubit of 71.9 cm. 3. City wall of Damascus (fol. 60v): According to the manuscript, the circumference of the wall measured 5,700 Qāsimīcubits. Moreover, the lengths of seven sections of the wall are quoted, starting from the southwest corner of the 118 G.R.D. King, “The Excavations at Homs Citadel, 1997-2001”, Bulletin of the Max van BerchemFoundation 15 (2001): 7-8; id., “Archaeological Fieldwork at the Citadel of Homs, Syria: 1995-1999”, Levant 34 (2002): 39-58; id., “The Homs citadel excavations”, Lesannalesarchéologiquesarabessyriennes 45-46 (2002-2003): 415-417. 119 For example at the citadels of Aleppo, A῾zāz (see below), Maṣyāf, Afāmiya (Qal῾at al-Muḍīq), Bikisrā’īl, Ḥārim, Qal῾at Ja῾bar and the like. See further: M. Piana, “Frühe Zwingerund Vorbefestigungen an Burgen der Kreuzfahrerzeit”, in ZwingerundVorbefestigungen.Tagung vom10.bis12.November2006aufSchlossNeuenburgbeiFreyburg(Unstrut), eds. H. Müller and R. Schmitt (Langenweißbach, 2007), pp. 53-62. 120 Michael the Syrian, Maktbānútzabne, III: 316: “The people of Emesa were stricken with fear; they left the town for safety reasons. Their houses and the citadel were destroyed.” 121 The rebuilding of the defences by Nūr al-Dīn is well documented: Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 340-341; Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Kāmil, 503-504; Kamāl al-Dīn, Zubdat, 21-22.

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citadel and then continuing from gate to gate, with their dimensions given in “cubits” without further specification. Surprisingly, their addition amounts to 7600 cubits, evincing a ratio of 3:4 compared to the figure given for the overall length. Hence these cubits cannot have been those of the Qāsimī type. Before evaluating these specifications, the modifications of the city wall during Nūr al-Dīn’s reign have to be regarded.122 Soon after he had taken over Damascus in 1154, Nūr al-Dīn launched a programme for the rehabilitation and reinforcement of the fortifications of the city. On the occasion of the Crusader siege of 1148, it is reported that the wall had not been very strong, as it was partly built of mud bricks.123 Nūr al-Dīn not only rebuilt these sections in stonework but also added new gates at the north wall. Due to monumental inscriptions it can be stated that the course of the wall during Nūr al-Dīn’s time is to a considerable extent the same as it is today. Only at the northwest section was it located 20–50 m further south than the extant one, following the river front of the Nahr ῾Aqrabānī at that time (Fig. 4)124. The inner section of the present-day Bāb alFaraj, called Bāb al-Khandaq, still attests to it, as the latter represents the Bāb al-Faraj of Nūr al-Dīn’s time. The importance given by him to this project is reflected in a fatwā, issued after having consulted a group of ῾ulamā’, allocating surplus income from pious endowments to the maintenance and reinforcement of the walls.125 By the time of the creation of the manuscript the works were not finished yet, as monumental inscriptions from later years indicate. Nonetheless, as large stretches of the wall from this period still exist and as the remaining sections are quite clearly traceable, the length of the city wall can be determined with a high degree of probability. It measures about 4,100 m, irrespective of different courses of the northwest section. Given this, the dimension of the Qāsimī cubit would amount to 71.93 cm. 122 On the walls of Damascus see M. Braune, “Die Stadtmauer von Damaskus”, Damaszener Mitteilungen 11 (1999): 67-85; J.-M. Mouton, J.O. Guilhot, and C. Piaton, “Nouvelles interprétations sur le tracé et la chronologie de l’enceinte de Damas”, Comptesrendusdeséancesdel’AcadémiedesInscriptionsetBelles-Lettres (2012): 91-107; H. Saad and C. Benech, “Nouvelles données sur le plan antique de Damas”, in Archéologiedel’espaceurbain, ed. E. Lorans and X. Rodier (Tours, 2013), pp. 109-120. For the period of Nūr al-Dīn see Elisséeff, “Les monuments”, 18-19, 21-24, 26-28; id., LadescriptiondeDamas, pp. 297-301. 123 William of Tyre, Chronicon, XVII 5, II: 766: “... at the opposite side of the city, facing south and east, there were no protecting orchards and neither moat nor river to prevent someone from approaching the wall to attack it. Likewise the wall, they assured, was low and built of mud bricks, and could hardly sustain the first attack”; The mud brick walls were already mentioned in 985 by al-Muqaddasī, Aḥsānal-TaqāsimfīMa῾rifatal-Aqālīm, ed. M. Makhzūm (Bayrūt, 1987), p. 137. 124 The topographical assessment follows the results of the survey of the historic city 1975– 1980: D. Sack, “Damaskus, die Stadt intramuros. Ein Beitrag zu den Arbeiten der Internationalen Kommission zum Schutz der Altstadt von Damaskus”, DamaszenerMitteilungen 2 (1985): 207-290. 125 Abū Shāma, Dhayl Kitābal-RawḍataynfīAkhbāral-Dawlataynal-Nūriyyawa-l-Ṣalāḥiyya, eds. M. Ḥilmī and M. Aḥmad, volumes I-II (al-Qāhira, 1956), I: 43.

Fig. 4: Damascus, conjectured course of the city wall (red line) in the period of Nūr al-Dīn (map source: Sack 1985)

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These three examples may suffice to illustrate that the length of the Qāsimī cubit must have been roughly 72 cm.126 As all the standard Islamic measurement units can be deduced from three basic ones, it is likely that this is the case here as well. Several specifications given in the manuscript indicate that the Qāsimī cubit is divisible by eight (fol. 60r, 60v, 61r). This leads to the assumption that it was a “greater” cubit, consisting of eight palms (qabaḍāt) instead of six, just like the Hashemite cubit (al-dhirā῾al-Hāshimiyya), which is two palms larger than the legal cubit. There is indeed one base unit which perfectly accords with this, the black cubit of 54.04 cm, of which eight palms amount to 72.05 cm. Hence, the unspecified cubits provided for the sections between the gates with their 3:4 ratio compared with the overall length are black cubits. The causes for the quoting of two different units may have been two different surveying reports from different workgroups which were amalgamated in the manuscript. On the other hand, the total may have been back-calculated into Qāsimī cubits, as was done in other cases. The exact correlation of the figures points to this assumption. The supposed dependence of the Qāsimī cubit on the black cubit raises another issue, that of the origin of the latter, hitherto thought to have been introduced by the ῾Abbāsids, though not by the caliph al-Ma’mūn (r. 813–833) as is often stated.127 Hinz has argued that the emergence of the black cubit of 54.04 cm is closely related to the measurement unit of the nilometer on the Island of Rawḍa in Cairo.128 The present-day nilometer was constructed during the caliphate of al-Mutawakkil in 247/861. There were, however, two predecessors, with the first one built during the caliphate of al-Walīd (r. 705–715) and the second one in 97/715–16 under his successor Sulaymān. As the Qāsimī cubit is already mentioned during the caliphate of al-Walīd, the emergence of the black cubit of 54.04 cm has likewise to be assigned to this period. It is thus plausible to assume that the first nilometer already featured the black cubit with this length. It is certainly derived from that of the pharaonic nilometers, for which the Egyptian king’s cubit of a similar length (52.3 cm) was used as measurement unit.129 DISTANCE MEASUREMENTS AND THE

ROAD SYSTEM

The second group of data given in the manuscript comprises specifications of distances between major towns, fortified places and road stations. It reflects the efforts of Nūr al-Dīn to establish a network of routes and relay stations, in 126

Another example may be seen in the circumference of the citadel of Hama (see below). Prell, “Die schwarzen Ellen”, pp. 37-39; Hinz, “Dhirā῾”, p. 232. 128 Hinz, IslamischeMasse, p. 55. On the nilometer see in particular K.A.C. Creswell, Early MuslimArchitecture, volumes I-III (Oxford, 1969), II: 290-307. 129 L. Borchardt, NilmesserundNilstandsmarken (Berlin, 1906). 127

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order to facilitate circulation and communication within his realm, not least for military and strategic purposes. The wealth of data provided by the manuscript gives a good picture of the road system in mainland Syria in the twelfth century, with new and more detailed information as to the routing and the road stations in this period. The latter differs from that in the Mamlūk era, as under Baybars and his successors the system of routes in the Levant was rearranged to a considerable extent, not least owing to the fundamentally changed political landscape resulting from the expulsion of the Crusaders from the coast. The distances are provided in most cases in cubits and additionally in parasangs. A possible explanation for this could be that the data were collected by different work groups, one of which certainly consisted of professional land surveyors who commonly used the parasang as the major unit of measurement. This may have caused some inconsistencies between the data expressed in either unit and when comparing them with the distances on the ground. They were probably caused by scribal or transmission errors. The distance between Hama and Homs (fol. 60r) may be adduced as an example. It is divided into two sections. The northern one, which spans from Hama’s Gate of Homs to the bridge of al-Rastan,130 measures “2.5 parasangs approximately, 30,605 Qāsimī cubits”,131 the southern one measures “2.5 parasangs and a quarter and a quarter of one eighth, 33,365 Qāsimī cubits”. The overall distance is given in Qāsimī cubits only (70,050).132 If we compare the parasang figures in relation to those of the cubits, it becomes obvious that these in fact seem to be hand or legal cubits. This is supported by the fact that the parasang could be expressed in legal cubits, with the latter being something like a subunit of the former.133 The specification given for the south section is 2.5 + 0.25 + 0.03125 parasangs, expressed in legal cubits: 30,000 + 3,000 + 375 = 33,375. The deviation from the 33,365 cubits in the manuscript is possibly due to a scribal error.134 If we subtract them now from the overall distance of 70,050 cubits we get the number of 36,675 cubits, instead of the 33,365 cubits of the manuscript, which would better correspond to “3 parasangs approximately”, instead of 2.5 given for the northern section. However, all these data are in no way consistent with the real distance between Hama and Homs. The route is easily traceable as it has hardly changed since the Roman period. The location of the gates mentioned is known as well, although both of them no longer exist. The distance on the ground amounts to 46 km, 130 Rastan, the ancient Arethousa, is located halfway between the two cities, an important crossing point of the River Orontes with an ancient bridge north of the present-day town. 131 The reading differs from that of Buyukasik, “Survey”, pp. 112, 122. 132 The reading of this figure is confused in the manuscript. It fits best to sab῾ūn, whereas Buyukasik’s reading of sab῾asittīn (Buyukasik, “Survey”, p. 195) cannot be deduced from the manuscript. 133 One parasang equals 3 miles or 12,000 legal cubits: Hinz, IslamischeMasse, p. 62. 134 On the other hand, the specifications given for the distances in the original text are not always clear to decode.

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equalling 7.7 parasangs or c. 92,000 legal cubits or c. 64,000 Qāsimī cubits. The latter differs little from the addition of the distances given for the two sections: 30,605 + 33,365 = 63,970. Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that the distances were originally measured in Qāsimī cubits, and then back-calculated into parasangs on the basis of legal cubits, which may be explained by the fact that the parasang was always associated with the legal cubit, not with the lesser known Qāsimī cubit. Nevertheless, other distance measurement data in the manuscript correspond well, such as the distance between A῾zāz and Tall Bāshir (fol. 57r), which is 60.848 km (10.167 parasangs) according to the manuscript, and 60.3 km measured on the ground. Another example is the distance between Manbīj and Qal῾at Najm, which is 4.833 parasangs (28.927 km) according to the manuscript (fol. 59v), compared to 28.9 km on the ground. An example, where the error is easily traceable, is the distance between Tall Bāshir and ῾Ayntāb, which is specified in the manuscript (fol. 57r) as being “4 parasangs and one third of one eighth parasang”, that is 4.04167 parasangs, equal to 24.189 km. On the ground, however, the route, which does not deviate much from the beeline between these places, is 27.1 km long. On the other hand, adding 0.5 parasangs would lead to the well-matching result of 27.182 km. It is tempting to assume that this fell victim to a transcription error. A similar example is that of the distance between Homs and Damascus (fol. 60v, 61r), for which “24 parasangs and one third” are quoted. On fol. 61r the road stations along the route are listed, which are all clearly identifiable and which all line up along the modern DamascusHoms road, following the old route to a large extent.135 The course of the latter is clearly traceable on aerial photographs and on the ground, allowing for its assessment with a high degree of accuracy. Its distance from city wall to city wall amounts to 157.5 km. Here, too, there is an inconsistency, as the 24.33 parasangs of the manuscript equal 145.63 km, which is in every respect too short. On the other hand, adding two more parasangs to the distance given leads to a perfect match, as then it amounts to 157.6 km. Once more it appears that in the compilation of the manuscript slight mistakes may have slipped in. Therefore, while all distance measurement data in the manuscript are not doubtful per se, they should always be checked against the real conditions. With this in mind, and by taking into account the road stations quoted, it is nonetheless possible to determine the medieval routes in central and northern Syria with a high degree of certainty, underlining the great value of this source.

135 The stations were (starting from Damascus): Ḥarastā, al-Quṣayr, Nahr Yazīd, Quṭayfa, al-Qaṣtal, al-Nabk, Qārā, Burj al-Ghasūla (near present-day Ḥasyā), Khirbat al-Qiblī, Shamsīn, Kafrayyā.

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CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: ALEPPO, DAMASCUS, ῾AYNTĀB, SHAYZAR The city walls and the citadel of Aleppo and Damascus will be treated in a separate publication. This will make it possible to discuss the findings in a broader scope and embed them more thoroughly into the historical and architectural context. ῾Ayntāb and Shayzar are more elusive cases, as the structures mentioned are barely identifiable today. Future archaeological investigations may make it possible to assess the specifications quoted in the manuscript. CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: AMMAN The short entry on Amman is a paramount example of hitherto neglected evidence from the manuscript, casting new light on obscured periods of the history of places.136 Amman was not known previously to have played a major role in the history of the Zankids, as it does not appear in any other source, save a short note concerning the stay of Nūr al-Dīn’s troops there prior to the siege of Kerak in 1170.137 It indicates that Amman, more specifically its citadel, was used as a base from which attacks could be launched. The entry in the manuscript, however, reveals that it counted among the fortifications of Nūr al-Dīn’s state and was thus certainly kept in a defendable state of repair by this time. Archaeological investigations have revealed the site’s major phases of occupation.138 Accordingly, a fortification existed there since the Middle Bronze Age, which was renewed during the Iron Age and the Hellenistic periods. Later, a Roman temple, the so-called Northern Temple, was erected on top of the former acropolis, with its substructure constituting the north section of the presentday citadel. During the 160s, the Temple of Hercules was built within the south section, and the entire complex surrounded with a curtain or temenos wall. During the early eighth century, the Umayyads renewed the fortification walls and erected a palace at the site of the then ruined Northern Temple. The former Roman gate near the south-east corner of the complex was transformed into a semicircular gate tower which was entered via a walled barbican. This fortification was rebuilt by the ῾Abbāsids during the second half of the eighth century, in the aftermath of the earthquake of 129–30/747–48. A further occupation phase is documented for the tenth and early eleventh centuries, followed by another 136 It reads (fol. 62r): “The castle of ῾Ammān. Its perimeter is 2,283 hand cubits”. Buyukasik, “Survey”, pp. 115 and 126, erroneously reads 1,283 cubits, whereas the manuscript clearly has alfān (two thousand) here. 137 Abū Shāma, Kitābal-Rawḍatayn, 154, citing ῾Imād al-Dīn here. 138 On the fortification of the citadel see A. Northedge, “The Fortification of Qal῾at ῾Amman (῾Amman Citadel): Preliminary Report”, AnnualoftheDepartmentofAntiquitiesofJordan 27 (1983): 437-460; J. Wood, “The Fortifications”, in StudiesonRomanandIslamic῾Ammān,vol. I:History,SiteandArchitecture, ed. A. Northedge (Oxford, 1992), pp. 105-127.

Fig. 5: Amman, citadel, hatched area representing sections used by Nūr al-Dīn (plan: Northedge 1992, Fig. 165)

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earthquake, most probably that of 1068. The subsequent period could not be assessed more precisely, although there were pottery finds “largely paralleled by Crusader and Middle Islamic pottery of the 6th/12th century”, predating the well-documented Ayyūbid phase of the thirteenth century.139 Due to the evidence from the manuscript and from Crusader sources, these may now be attributed to the Crusader/Zankid occupation of the citadel. Furthermore, the dimensions given in the manuscript allow to define the parts of the citadel used during the twelfth century. Its circumference of 2,283 hand cubits according to the manuscript equal 1,138.65 m, which coincides perfectly with the circumference of the Upper Citadel of c. 1,135 m.140 It is therefore obvious that the so-called “Lower Citadel”, the long section adjoining the south part of the Upper Citadel at its east side, was abandoned in that period. The Crusader/Zankid citadel thus consisted of a main ward following the classical castrum design with corner towers, in fact the former Umayyad palace, and a large outer ward to the south of it, likewise furnished with corner towers, except at the southeast corner, where the well-fortified gate tower next to it took over this function. This gate featured as the main entrance to the citadel, to which a path led up from the little suburb below. Another gate, a twin-towered one, was located at the west side, with its north tower constituting the south corner tower of the main ward (Fig. 5). CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: A῾ZĀZ A῾zāz was and still is a little town north of Antioch which had been a bone of contention between Muslim rulers and the Byzantines during the tenth and eleventh centuries and the Crusaders thereafter.141 Nūr al-Dīn conquered it in July 1150 benefiting from the imprisonment of Count Joscelyn II of Edessa. Its strategic importance lay not only in the fact that it was a place on the frontier of Nūr al-Dīn’s state but also because it was located at the crossways of two major routes. One of them connected Edessa with Antioch via al-Bīra and Tall Bāshir, the other one Aleppo with Kaysūn via ῾Ayntāb and Ra῾bān. Both routes appear in the manuscript with their distances given.142 The manuscript provides many features concerning the fortifications of the town, of which nothing has remained. Therefore, the particulars reported here are highly valuable, the more so as there is no other source providing such a level of detail. The castle, in fact a citadel attached to a walled town, was located on the still existing tell in the centre of the present-day town. The manuscript 139

A. Northedge, “The Development of the Citadel”, in: ibid., p. 160. The medieval surveyors must have included the towers in their measurements here. 141 For the history of the site see: Ibn Shaddād, Al-A῾lāq, pp. 46-57. 142 A῾zāz–Tall Bāshir (fol. 57r), Aleppo–Tall Bāshir (fol. 58v), Aleppo–A῾zāz (fol. 58v), ῾Ayntāb–Ra῾bān (fol. 57v, 59r), Ra῾bān–Kaysūn (fol. 59r). 140

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Fig. 6: A‘zāz, citadel, hypothetical reconstruction of wall lines based on data from the manuscript (image source: Google Earth)

mentions three different enceintes, of which the inner one (sūral-qal῾a) had a circumference of 255.5 Qāsimī cubits (184.1 m) and was furnished with 25 towers. It was surrounded by a “middle bailey” (al-ḥawshal-wusṭā) whose wall had a circumference of 316.125 Qāsimī cubits (227.8 m) and 21 towers. Furthermore, there was a lower bailey (al-ḥawshal-suflānī) with a circumference of 510 Qāsimī cubits (367.5 m), studded with 21 towers as well. To gain a better idea of the layout of the fortification, the three enceintes are projected true to scale as polygonal chains onto satellite images of the tell (Fig. 6). Although their shape is not known exactly, even by considering topographical conditions, the given dimensions nonetheless provide a revealing picture. There was a main wall on top of the tell, surrounded by an indubitably weaker forewall and a walled lower or outer ward. The present-day tell is deeply eroded but its principal structure is preserved, indicating that the main part of the outer ward may have been located at its south side. The fact that the citadel of A῾zāz had a concentric double wall, is documented as early as 1068,143 and neither the Crusaders nor Nūr al-Dīn seem to have significantly modified the design of the castle. Although Nūr al-Dīn has proclaimed an abatement of community taxes 143

Michael Attaleiates, Istoria, ed. I. Bekker, MichaelisAttaliotaeHistoria, Bonn 1853, p. 117.

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(maẓālim) for several Syrian cities including A῾zāz,144 this does not necessarily mean that these had suffered heavy damages to their public infrastructure.145 The multitude of towers implies that they were rather small, an assumption which is supported by some still existing examples of the period at the city wall of Damascus. Their width certainly did not exceed 5 Qāsimī cubits (3.60 m), as in that case the curtain wall/tower ratio at the main wall would have been equal, an arrangement which was not uncommon at that time. The odd values of the circumferences indicate that these walls were originally not staked out by making use of the Qāsimī cubit, as the latter may have been used predominantly in Damascene territory. The measurement unit used in its construction seems to have been the black cubit of 54.04 cm, resulting in 340, 421.5 and 680 cubits for the length of the three enceintes. Therefore, the walls seem to have been those constructed after the devastating earthquake of 1114,146 which implies that the Crusaders only repaired the pre-existing walls after their demolition in the siege of 1125.147 Additionally, there was a town wall, which had a length of 543.5 Qāsimī cubits (391.6 m), equal to 725 black cubits, with no towers mentioned. As it has vanished entirely its layout and shape cannot be assessed, although it seems likely that it had been linked to the citadel in some way. CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: BAALBEK Baalbek, the most important strongpoint of the Beqaa Valley, is already described as a fortified town by the historians of the ninth and tenth centuries,148 whereas the citadel is mentioned as early as 1100.149 Although it seems that the series of earthquakes of the years 1156–1159 did not inflict major damage to 144 The rate for A῾zāz was 10,000 dīnārs: Abū Shāma, Kitābal-rawḍatayn, 39. See further: Elisséeff, Nūrad-Dīn, III: 804. 145 Y. Lev, “The Social and Economic Policies of Nūr al-Dīn (1146–1174): The Sultan of Syria”, DerIslam 81 (2004): 218-224, here 228, argues that the motivation behind those deeds was predominantly religious. 146 Kamāl al-Dīn, Zubdatal-Ḥalabminta’rīḫḤalab, ed. and tr. C. Barbier de Meynard [RHC Hist. or. III] (1884), p. 607. 147 According to Matthew of Edessa, Zhamanakagrut῾iwn, ch. 102, tr. A.E. Dostourian, Armenia andtheCrusades:TenthtoTwelfthCenturies.TheChronicleofMatthewofEdessa (Lanham, 1993), p. 235, the citadel was “razed to its foundations, ruined, and about to fall” after the siege by al-Bursuqī and Ṭughtakīn. 148 The most detailed work on the Islamic architecture of Baalbek, outreaching all previous studies, is H. Lehmann, BaalbekinnachantikerZeit.UntersuchungenzurStadtbaugeschichtevom 5. bis zum 20. Jahrhundert (Rahden, 2015). See further: D. Krencker and H. Winnefeld, “Die Stadtmauer”, in Baalbek. ErgebnissederAusgrabungenundUntersuchungenindenJahren1898 bis1905, ed. T. Wiegand, volumes I-III (Berlin, 1921), I: 17-21. For the history of Baalbek during the Middle Ages see: M. Sobernheim, “Abriß der Geschichte Baalbeks im Mittelalter”, in ibid. (1925), III: 3-11. 149 Theodorus Palidensis (Theodor of Pöhlde), NarratioProfectionisGodefridiDucisadJerusalem [RCH Hist. occ. V] (1895), p. 196: “castrum, quod dicitur Baldach”.

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Baalbek,150 it is recorded that Nūr al-Dīn has renewed its city wall and the citadel.151 A monumental inscription from the former Damascus Gate indicates that Nūr al-Dīn ordered the building of the appurtenant section of the city wall in 563/1167–68.152 Recent archaeological investigations at the Bustān Nāṣṣīf, the area south of the ancient sanctuary and later citadel (qal῾a), where the remains of the Damascus Gate and related sections of the city wall are located, have shed light on the building sequence.153 It could be demonstrated that the entire section was built during the twelfth-century, using ancient structures but not those of the ancient city wall, which was located further to the west, as indicated by specific remains there. It defined, however, the southeast section of a new wall, enclosing an urban area significantly smaller than that of the ancient city. The course of the new wall could be determined precisely, due to the evidence from further remains at other locations and from Late Ottoman survey plans and photographs. In the manuscript (fol. 62r) it is specified that the circumference of the city wall of Baalbek measured 7,940 hand cubits, equal to 3,960 m, without mentioning towers as in other cases. This, however, does not accord with the length of the new wall in its latest stage, as determined by the investigators, amounting to c. 3,135 m without including the citadel. Although the northernmost identifiable section of the new wall ends near the southwest corner of the citadel, a junction with the latter could not be determined at the time.154 Therefore, it is possible that the wall once continued further to the northwest, running along the west side of the citadel in the manner of a forewall,155 and linked to the stretch of the ancient wall west of the north gate.156 Even in that case, the perimeter would amount to just c. 3,565 m. On the other hand, the dimension quoted in the manuscript cannot have referred to the ancient city wall in its full extension. Although its southern sections could not be assessed at the time, the extant remains and the topographical conditions permit one to determine roughly the minimum dimensions it must have had, amounting to a length of about 4,500 m. Therefore, it is plausible that the surveyors recorded an intermediate status, which 150 The earthquake of 15 July 1157 had an estimated local magnitude (ML) of 6.1: Sbeinati, Darawcheh and Mouty, “Earthquakes of Syria”, 373. 151 Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Kāmil, 606. 152 M. Sobernheim, “Die arabischen Inschriften”, in Baalbek, ed. Wiegand (1925), III: 1314 no. 2; Elisséeff, “Les monuments”, 17. At the end of the nineteenth century, the inscription was still in situ on the Damascus Gate: M. Alouf, HistoiredeBaalbek,parundeseshabitants (Beyrouth, 1890), pp. 135-136. 153 Lehmann, Baalbek, pp. 58-61, 66-68, 169-171. 154 At the southwest section of the citadel no indication for a junction with the new wall was found: Ibid., p. 130. 155 According to the records of the Baalbek project, this area was never subjected to archaeological investigations: Ibid., Tafel 34. 156 The course is probably identical with a dashed line branching off from the ancient northwest wall at a point c. 400 m west of the north gate, depicted by Gottlieb Schumacher in his survey map of Baalbek from 1904. From here it runs to the southeast for some 150 m towards the central west section of the citadel. For the map see Lehmann, Baalbek, Tafel 3.

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Fig. 7: Baalbek, city wall, dashed green line marks conjectured state of wall in 567/1168–69 (map source: Lehmann 2015, Taf. 159a)

comprised a still larger part of the ancient wall than the extant new wall does.157 This is further confirmed by the inscription from the Damascus Gate, indicating that the works began in 563/1167–68, only one year before the manuscript was issued (Fig. 7). It certainly took several years to complete the new wall, a process which, moreover, was interrupted by the earthquake of 1170, which had severely hit Baalbek.158 The subsequent repair works, to which a later inscription from Muḥarram 569/August–September 1173 mentioned by the seventeenth-century 157 It is tempting to assume that the southwest section of the new wall was continued to the southeast to link to the ancient wall. 158 Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkh, 262; Sbeinati, Darawcheh and Mouty, “Earthquakes of Syria”, 374: estimated local magnitude (ML) of 7.9.

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traveller al-Nābulusī alludes to,159 finally resulted in the course of the new wall which is known today. The specification given in the manuscript leads thus to the hypothesis that by the time it was issued only the southwest section of the new wall had been finished. This reflects a statement already made by the early explorers of Baalbek, that the new wall was not erected in a single campaign but step by step in connection with the old wall.160 The archaeological investigations in the Busṭān Nāṣṣīf further comprised a stretch of the city wall with a tower, located some 80 m northwest of the Damascus Gate.161 They revealed that the tower, which was 6.8 m wide projecting 4.4 m from the alignment of the wall, was a secondary addition.162 According to the archaeological evidence and to findings at other sections of the wall,163 there was a Mamlūk rebuilding phase during the early fourteenth century.164 The towers may have been added at that time or during the repair works implemented after the damage inflicted by the Mongol siege of 1260.165 This and the lack of any mention of towers in the manuscript leads to the assumption that the new wall of Nūr al-Dīn did not feature towers, except those of the gates and presumably some at the corners of the city wall. CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: BĀNYĀS Bānyās was probably fortified already during the Fāṭimid period.166 The place was bitterly fought over between the Crusaders and their Muslim opponents. On the occasion of the capture of Bānyās by Shams al-Mulūk of Damascus in 1132, the citadel was mentioned for the first time.167 After Nūr al-Dīn had finally taken 159 Al-Nābulusī, Al-tuḥfaal-Nābulusiyyafīl-Riḥlaal-Ṭarābulusiyya, ed. H. Busse, DieReise des ῾Abd al-Ġanī an-Nābulusī durch den Libanon (Beirut, 2003), p. 103. The inscription was attached to the “Bāb al-Madīna” which could not be located at the time. 160 Krencker and Winnefeld, “Die Stadtmauer”, p. 19. 161 Lehmann, Baalbek, pp. 66-68. 162 The dimensions of the tower point to a Mamluk origin, as it seems that a long variant of the Hashemite cubit was employed here, which was used particularly in Mamluk Syria and which had a length of 68 cm. Expressed in these units, the tower measured 6.5 × 10 cubits. 163 Another tower was exposed in the Busṭān Zayn, immediately north of the east section of the citadel, which likewise had a width of 6.8 m: Lehmann, Baalbek, p. 144. 164 Lehmann, Baalbek, p. 171. 165 They are mentioned for the first time prior to 1341: H. Gaube and A. von Gladiss, “Säulen unter dem arabischen Halbmond”, in Baalbek.ImBannrömischerMonumentalarchitektur, eds. M. von Ess and T. Weber (Mainz, 1999), p. 74. 166 For an overview of the history and archaeology of Bānyās see Z.U. Ma῾oz, “Banias”, in TheNewEncyclopediaofArchaeologicalExcavationsintheHolyLand, ed. E. Stern, volumes I-V (Jerusalem, 1993, 2008), I: 136-143, esp. 142-143, V: 1587-1594. For a compilation of the literary sources see: J.F. Wilson, “The Literary Sources”, in Paneas,VolumeII:SmallFindsandOther Studies, eds. V. Tzaferis and S. Israeli (Jerusalem, 2008), pp. 195-231. 167 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 217. It may have been built by the Ismā῾īlī leader Bahrām in 1127 (ibid., 187) or by the Seljuks in the preceding period.

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Fig. 8: Bānyās, fortifications of medieval town in the period of Nūr al-Dīn, dashed line signalling assumed line of north wall (map source: Tzaferis and Israeli, Paneas II 2008, 236)

the town in 1164 he launched a refortification campaign.168 Although the site of ancient Paneas or Caesarea Philippi, the larger predecessor of the medieval town, is fairly well explored, the medieval remains still lack thorough investigations. The principal layout is nonetheless known, as the walls and towers of the east and south sides are preserved in remains, which were exposed during the late 1980s and early 1990s.169 The ground walls of the southwest tower were excavated in 2001.170 The extant walls roughly form a trapezium, furnished with towers at the corners (Fig. 8). They comprise an area of 5.73 ha with a square-shaped 168 Michael the Syrian, Maktbānútzabne, III: 326; Bar Hebraeus, Maktbānútzabne, ed. and tr. E.A.W. Budge, The Chronography of Gregory Abû’l Faraj, the Son of Aaron, the Hebrew Physician,CommonlyKnownasBarHebraeus,BeingtheFirstPartofHisPoliticalHistoryof theWorld, volumes I-II (Oxford, London, 1932), I: 289. 169 For a summary see Ma’oz, “Banias”, I: 142-143. See further: V. Tzaferis, “The Site: Stratigraphy and Architectural Remains”, in Paneas,VolumeI:TheRomantoEarlyIslamicPeriods.ExcavationsinAreasA,B,E,F,G,andH, eds. V. Tzaferis and S. Israeli (Jerusalem, 2008), pp. 36-44, 48-53. 170 M. Hartal, “Banias, the Southwestern Tower”, HadashotArkheologiyot.Excavationsand SurveysinIsrael 119 (2007) 16/4/2007.

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Fig. 9: Bānyās, citadel, view on array of vaults on its west side

citadel (area G) in its centre. The western wing of the latter consists of an array of twelve vaults (area C), once associated with a Roman palace to the west of it attributed to King Agrippa II (r. 50–90) (Fig. 9). The manuscript (fol. 61v) quotes a circumference of 560 hand cubits for the “castle” (279.3 m) and of 1,910 hand cubits (952.6 m) for the city wall,171 without mentioning towers. The dimensions for the castle coincide almost perfectly with that of area C, an additional proof of the accuracy of the data in the manuscript. For the city wall it may be assumed that the extant walls and towers, undeniably Ayyūbid constructions,172 were built along the lines of earlier predecessors.173 This is corroborated by the dimensions of the pre-Ayyūbid northwest and southwest towers, which are apparently of early Islamic origin due to the measurement unit used in their construction.174 Applying the circumference 171 The figure of the latter is difficult to decipher, due to the abbreviated spelling used by the writer, sometimes according to Koranic notation. In accordance with the archaeological findings, however, it is more likely to be read as tis῾mi’a than as sab῾mi’a, as with Buyukasik, “Survey”, pp. 114, 124, 197. 172 J.F. Wilson and V. Tzaferis, “Historical and Archaeological Summary”, in Paneas I: 180-181. 173 The northernmost section of the east wall (between areas H and B) predates the adjacent towers and was thus attributed to Fāṭimid or Crusader builders: Tzaferis, “Stratigraphy”, p. 3637. 174 At the southwest tower, two building phases were identified: a smaller tower, measuring 10.6 × 15.7 m, was incorporated into a much larger one during a later phase. The latter was identified

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quoted in the manuscript to the latest plans of the site results, however, in a slightly smaller size of the area. In that context, it must be kept in mind that the course of the town wall in the northern section could not yet been assessed.175 As the lines of the west, the south and the east walls are determined, the evidence from the manuscript suggests that the north wall must have been located further south than hitherto assumed. In this regard, the bastion at the northern end of the east wall may have been a corner tower, not the south tower of a gate as suggested by the excavators.176 CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: BOSRA Another notable example is Bosra, where already during the ῾Abbāsid period the Roman theatre at the south side of the ancient town had been used as a fortification.177 The building phases prior to the period of Nūr al-Dīn comprise towers over the staircases at either side of the parodoi of the theatre (tower I and II), dated to the eleventh century,178 and a third one (tower III), erected by the atabeg of Damascus, Mu῾īn al-Dīn Unur, at its southwest side in 542/1147–48.179 None of the studies concerned with the citadel of Bosra hitherto have addressed a building phase attributed to Nūr al-Dīn, owing to later rebuilding in the Ayyūbid period and the lack of monumental inscriptions.180 The manuscript, however, provides new evidence, casting light on the development of the citadel, which had already been studded with more towers in the pre-Ayyūbid period than had been thought previously. According to the manuscript the circumference of the castle measured 730 hand cubits (364.1 m) and was furnished with six towers. These specifications are highly valuable, as they provide evidence for a further development of the fortification during the period prior to 1168–69. as a Crusader construction, the former as an Islamic one (eleventh or early twelfth century): Hartal, “Banias”, p. 1. The measurement unit employed seems to have been the black cubit of 54.04 cm (20 × 29 cubits). The same is true for the northwest corner tower, a solid construction measuring 11 × 13.5 m (Ma῾oz, “Banias”, p. 142), amounting to 20 × 25 black cubits. 175 Tzaferis, “Stratigraphy”, p. 36. 176 Ibid., pp. 40-41. 177 On the citadel of Bosra see in particular: A. Abel, “La citadelle eyyubite de Bosra eski Cham”, Annales archéologiques de Syrie 6 (1956): 95-138; S. ῾Abd al-Ḥaqq, “Maṣraḥ Buṣrā wa-qal῾atuhā”, AnnalesarchéologiquesdeSyrie 14 (1964): 5-22; F. Aalund, VernacularTradition andtheIslamicArchitectureofBosra (PhD, Copenhagen, 1992), pp. 45-57; C. Yovitchitch, “La citadelle de Bosra”, in LafortificationautempsdesCroisades, eds. N. Faucherre, J. Mesqui and N. Prouteau (Rennes, 2004), pp. 205-217; Meinecke and Aalund, Bosra, pp. 21-54; C. Yovitchitch, “Bosra: Eine Zitadelle des Fürstentums Damaskus”, in BurgenundStädtederKreuzzugszeit, ed. M. Piana (Petersberg, 2008), pp. 169-177. 178 According to an inscription from 481/1088, associated with tower II: Meinecke and Aalund, Bosra, p. 28 n. 30. 179 Ibid., p. 29 n. 33. 180 Only Meinecke and Aalund postulated a building phase (IIb) dated to the second half of the twelfth century: ibid., p. 54.

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Fig. 10: Bosra, citadel, green line representing conjectured course of wall in the period of Nūr al-Dīn, according to specifications provided by the manuscript (map source: Meinecke and Aalund 2008, Abb. 6)

At first sight it is not clear whether these changes had already been made by the Būrids, who held Bosra until Nūr al-Dīn took it in 1154, or by the latter after this date. As the earthquake of 1152 with an assumed magnitude of VII severely hit Bosra,181 it seems more likely that it was the work of Nūr al-Dīn, who had reinforced all the major fortified places in his empire. This is also corroborated by the fact that the dimension of the circumference (364 m) indicates that the Roman theatre must have been surrounded by an outer wall at that time, as the circumference of the theatre proper measures only 305 m. As seen in other examples, the addition of a forewall was a common measure of Nūr al-Dīn’s fortification programme. This has already been proposed by Abel who identified earlier remains at the underground casemates in the curtain walls of the west and south sides (Fig. 10).182 On the other hand, Meinecke and Aalund have identified previous structures on the ground floor of the northwest tower (tower IV) which they attributed to an earlier building, which was defended by loopholes 181 182

Sbeinati, Darawcheh and Mouty, “Earthquakes of Syria”, 371. Abel, “La citadelle”, 118-120.

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blocked subsequently and which must have formed the northwest angle of the fortification at an earlier period.183 They also conjectured that the northeast tower (tower X) was likewise built upon previous structures.184 The vaulted passage connecting both towers could thus have been the fighting gallery of a former forewall. A blocked loophole at the eastern end of the related wall corroborates this hypothesis. A perimeter line with these findings taken into account tallies well with the length quoted in the manuscript. It implies, however, that there were no projecting towers at the outer wall on the side of the cavea, or, if they had existed, they were excluded from the survey.185 Due to the number of six towers given, it is more probable that there was a pendant to tower III on the southeast side of the cavea than a third tower at the central north side, which was less exposed to attacks.186 The possibility that the clearly discernible smaller predecessors of the towers VI and VIII already existed at that time is less probable. The assessment of their measurement system reveals that the Ayyūbid construction cubit (al-dhirā῾al-baladiyya), introduced during the sultanate of Saladin, matches perfectly when compared to other ones such as the legal cubit, which cannot be completely ruled out in this case.187 The real conditions may be assessed one day by new excavations, for which the manuscript provides a sound rationale. CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: EDESSA (AL-RUHĀ) Edessa, today called Şanlı Urfa, was a place that frequently changed hands throughout the entire medieval period. The extant remains of its city wall go back to 812, when it was completely rebuilt following a previous destruction.188 In 1144, the city was conquered by Zankī who subsequently repaired the walls 183

Meinecke and Aalund, Bosra, pp. 30-31. Ibid., p. 54. 185 At most of the sites quoted in the manuscript the surveying did not encompass smaller towers, which may have been solid mural towers in most cases. 186 The lack of a predecessor of tower VII at the central north side may be taken as a proof of this assumption. The tower may have been constructed by the Mamluks in any case: Abel, “La citadelle”, 115; Yovitchitch, “Bosra”, pp. 176-177. 187 The predecessor of tower VI measured 9.9 × 14.6 m (17 × 25 Ayyūbid construction cubits), the predecessor of tower VIII measured 11.6 × 17.5 m (20 × 30 Ayyūbid construction cubits). For the Ayyūbid construction cubit (al-dhirā῾al-baladiyya), the principal unit of measurement used in Ayyūbid constructions, see H. Hanisch, “Islamische Maßarten und Maßsysteme, dargestellt an der Zitadelle von Damaskus. Ein Beitrag zur islamischen Metrologie”, Architectura (1999): 12-34. 188 The fortifications of Edessa are poorly explored. The most detailed studies are C. Tonghini, “Şanlıurfa Kalesi: Stratigrafik Analizlerin İlk Sonuçları”, Araştırma Sonuçları Toplantısı 33 (2015): 427-442; T.A. Sinclair, Eastern Turkey. An architectural and archaeological survey, volumes I-IV (London, 1990), IV: 8-15. See further H. Hellenkemper, BurgenderKreuzritterzeit inderGrafschaftEdessaundimKönigreichKleinarmenien.StudienzurhistorischenSiedlungsgeographieSüdost-Kleinasiens (Bonn, 1976), pp. 31-37. 184

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which had been damaged during the siege. Two years later Count Joscelyn II recaptured the city but was driven away shortly afterwards by Nūr al-Dīn.189 According to Ibn al-Athīr, Nūr al-Dīn subsequently destroyed and depopulated the city.190 The citadel, located on a ridge at the southwest angle of the city wall, was not affected. It is supposed to have been erected at the same time as the city wall, although the site may have been settled earlier, thought to have accommodated the acropolis of the ancient town. The present-day remains comprise an enceinte running along the edge of the ridge and a rock-cut ditch on its south and west sides. The extant walls have been attributed to the late and post-medieval periods, while there is a consensus that the principal layout of the fortification did not change over time. The entry for Edessa in the manuscript does not mention the city wall, which leads to the assumption that it had not yet been rebuilt after the destruction of the city in 1146. Only the circumference of a “centre” or “headquarters” (markaz) is given, amounting to 185 (unspecified) cubits (92.3 m). The citadel, however, was well fortified, comprising three different fortified units. The circumference of the inner fortification (al-qal῾aal-dākhilī), which was furnished with 14 towers, measured 460 cubits (229.4 m). The circumference of the central one (al-qal῾a al-wusṭā), featuring seven towers, measured 414 cubits (206.5 m), and that of the outer one (al-qal῾aal-khārija), with 16 towers, measured 670 cubits (334.2 m). Although the existence of three different “castles” might seem unusual, there is a notice in the anonymous Syriac chronicle from 1234 related to Zankī’s conquest of Edessa in 1144, speaking of “two forts”, one of which denominated as the “upper fort”.191 We can only speculate why 25 years later three different walled compounds are present, although castles with several fortified units were not uncommon in the period, as examples such as Alanya, Anavarza, Latakia, Shughūr-Bakās, Burzayh etc. indicate. These units were commonly spatially separated from each other, often with an intermediate ditch, constituting different self-contained fortifications.192 There is no doubt that the specifications given all relate to fortifications on top of the ridge, where the present-day citadel only features one enceinte, due to the many alterations it underwent during subsequent centuries. Given a cubit length of 49.875 cm, the three different “castles” can be positioned clearly along the ridge (Fig. 11). The inner one undoubtedly occupied its east section, with the central one adjoining it, and the outer one following it to the west. The latter 189

Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkh, 156; Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 274-275. Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkh, 156. 191 Maktab zabnē d-῾al-sharbē ῾ōlmōnōyē w-῾edtōnōye ῾adamō la-shnat 1234 la-Mshiḥō, tr. A.S. Tritton, “The First and Second Crusades from an Anonymous Syriac Chronicle”, Journal oftheRoyalAsiaticSociety 92 (1933): 285. 192 An intricate example is the citadel of ῾Aynṭāb, where the manuscript (fol. 57v) lists five different walled units, each fortified with towers, with further spaces to be added. 190

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Fig. 11: Edessa (al-Rūha), citadel, supposed extension of the three fortified units mentioned in the manuscript (image source: Google Earth)

may have been the “upper fort” of the chronicle of 1234, as there the level of the ground is significantly higher. Although it might be debatable whether there were spaces between each fortified unit or not, their sizes given in the manuscript rather supports the former arrangement. There is additional proof on site for the partition of the citadel: Exactly on the line between the inner and the central fortification the remains of a cross-wall are visible on the ground, dividing a lower area to the east of which from an elevated terrain to the west. This discovery needs to be proven, however, by excavations. At least the masonry indicates that the wall might be older than the late and postmedieval walls on the edge of the ridge. Additionally, the west section stretches as far as the great bastion on the north side, where the city wall once adjoined the citadel. The small prow-shaped tower at the centre of the east section of the south side seems to have been a corner tower of this outer castle, being one of the 16 towers mentioned in the manuscript. It fits well into the scheme of the towers attributed to Nūr al-Dīn, which were predominantly small-sized, solid constructions. The supposed arrangement, which coincides reasonably well with the topographical conditions, entails the supposition that the western part of the presentday citadel, projecting beyond the line of the former city wall, was abandoned during the time of Nūr al-Dīn.193 In fact, all the walls there are attributed to the 193 The earlier building history of this section is still not clear yet. At the time of Nūr al-Dīn it apparently did not exist in the present form. For a first assessment of the stratigraphy see Tonghini, “Şanlıurfa Kalesi”, 431-432, 435-437.

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Mamlūk, the Ak Koyunlu and the Ottoman periods.194 It may be surmised that the cubits mentioned here may not have been legal cubits but those of a larger dimension such as the Qāsimī cubit, although not specifically mentioned, in order to achieve a full coverage of the area of the present-day citadel. This in fact functions well for the inner castle (circumference of 331.4 m), roughly covering the east section of the citadel up to the conjectured cross-wall mentioned above, and an intermediate section from here to the great bastion at the north wall (circumference of 298.3 m). This assumption would leave a perimeter for the remaining part to the west of about 350 m, which, however, by no means matches with the 670 cubits (482.7 m) given in the manuscript. Therefore, the dimensions and the size ratio fit best with the solution presented initially, implying that the unspecified unit was in fact the legal cubit. Nevertheless, future research will be required to substantiate this hypothesis. CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: HAMA Nūr al-Dīn inherited the city of Hama from his father Zankī when he came to power in 1146.195 The 1157 earthquake led to a total destruction of the citadel and the town,196 which were both rebuilt in the subsequent period by Nūr al-Dīn.197 Of the citadel, almost nothing remains today. After its destruction by the Mongols in 1400, it was left in ruins. The latter were still visible until the seventeenth century but no longer at the beginning of the nineteenth.198 During the excavations of 1937 on the citadel mound a stretch of the outer enceinte with two rectangular towers was exposed at the southeast edge of the tell.199 The towers turned out to be Late Roman constructions dated to the fourth century, which were later reinforced according to specific findings from the twelfth century. It is tempting to assume that this was the work of Nūr al-Dīn, though it could also date from the early Ayyūbid period, as al-Malik al-Muẓaffar I of Hama (r. 1178– 1191) is also credited with a refurbishment of the walls.200 According to the 194

Sinclair, EasternTurkey, pp. 10-11. On the history of Hama see D. Sourdel, Ḥamāt, in EI2, III: 119-121; P. Pentz, Hama: fouillesetrecherchesdelaFondationCarlsberg1931-1938,IV/1:TheMedievalCitadelandits Architecture, volumes I-II (Copenhague, 1997), I: 23-24. 196 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 339; Michael the Syrian, Maktbānútzabne, III: 315. See further: Ambraseys, Earthquakes, pp. 300-315. 197 Elisséeff, “Les monuments”, 31. 198 Jean de la Roque, VoyagedeSyrieetduMont-Liban, 2 vols (Paris, 1722), I: 242 (visit in 1689); R. Walpole, Travels in various countries of the East; being a continuation of Memoirs relatingtoEuropeanandAsiaticTurkey (London, 1820), p. 324 (visit in 1802). 199 Pentz, Hama, pp. 27-33. For the Danish archaeological mission to Hama during the 1930s see J.P Riis, Ḥamā:danskearkæologersudgravningeriSyrien1930–1938(Copenhague, 1987). 200 Pentz, Hama, pp. 24, 27, 29, 31, 197-198. 195

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manuscript (fol. 60r), the circumference of the citadel measured 1,185 Qāsimī cubits, equal to 853.8 m. This corresponds roughly to the 800 m quoted for the circumference of the plateau of the citadel mound, coinciding with the length of the medieval enceinte in its last stage.201 For an evaluation of the length given in the manuscript, it has to be taken into account that in the rebuilding campaign of al-Malik al-Muẓaffar I, which must have been launched not long after 1178, a portion of the south section of the tell had been cut away.202 Therefore, the specifications given in the manuscript are plausible, for which reason the example of the citadel of Hama may be regarded as a further proof of the correctness of the length defined for the Qāsimī cubit. According to the archaeological findings Nūr al-Dīn seems to have merely repaired the Byzantine walls and towers, whereas the stone-lined glacis at the slopes of the citadel hill were attributed to the Ayyūbid period. The city walls of Hama are a more complex issue. According to the manuscript (fol. 60r), there was the “higher city” with a wall measuring 3,705 Qāsimī cubits (2,669.5 m) “from the Ibn al-Thaqafī Gate to the Gate of the Blind (Bāb al-῾Umyān)”, as well as a “lower city”, with its wall measuring 2,205 Qāsimī cubits (1,588.7 m) “from the Gate of the Saw (Bāb al-Minshār) to the Ibn alThaqafī Gate”. The topography of the twelfth-century town is best explained by Ibn Jubayr who visited it in 1185. Accordingly, the two cities, together with the citadel, were located west of the Orontes, with the lower city lying below the citadel, conterminous with the river and with no wall on this side. The upper city occupied an elevated area to the west of the citadel and the lower city.203 It is thus identical with the section of the Old Town west of the citadel, comprising the present-day al-Madīna quarter, where the Great Mosque (Jāmi῾ al-Kabīr) is located, the Bāb Qiblī quarter and the south part of the Jarājma quarter. Due to the topographical conditions, the lower city may be identified approximately with the al-Bāshūra quarter south of the citadel, to which the area between the citadel and the river — and possibly the citadel as well — has to be added, accommodating the al-Ḥasanayn Mosque, founded by Nūr al-Dīn immediately after the 1157 earthquake,204 and the al-Nūrī Mosque, completely rebuilt by Nūr al-Dīn in 558–559/1162–1164 (Fig. 12).205 Although the lengths of both walls can be deduced from the manuscript, the exact course of the walls and the location of the gates remain open to future investigations.

201 202 203 204 205

Ibid., p. 30. Ibid., p. 29. Ibn Jubayr, Riḥla, ed. Wright, 255-257. Elisséeff, “Les monuments”, 31. Ibid., 32.

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Fig. 12: Hama, location of the two “cities” and of significant monuments from the time of Nūr al-Dīn (image source: Google Earth)

CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: HOMS In addition to the remarks on the citadel of Homs mentioned above, the case of its outer wall (faṣīl) remains to be discussed. According to the manuscript (fol. 60v), it had a circumference of 1,606.75 Qāsimī cubits, equal to 1,157.7 m. Drawing a circle of that circumference around the citadel hill, roughly equidistant on all sides to the base of the tell, the result will be a line that is only a few metres beyond the modern road that encircles the mound (Fig. 13). As the road was built upon the backfill of the former moat, it is clear that the outer wall of the period of Nūr al-Dīn was built on a rampart beyond the moat, with its counterscarp forming the inner flank of the former. Although this feature is known from other sites such as the citadel of Aleppo, Qal῾at Jindī (Sinai) and some thirteenth-century Crusader castles, the case of Homs is noteworthy as a further example of the kind.206 The rampart fits well into the topography of the site, as the former moat was about 18 m wide,207 while the average distance between the 206 It does not, however, seem to be identical with the third wall mentioned by King, as that one was located on the base of the mound: King, “Fieldwork”, 49. This might have been an earlier wall which had lost its function when the outer wall mentioned in the manuscript was built. 207 Ibid., 47.

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Fig. 13: Homs, rampart around citadel moat and wall of the “new city” of Nūr al-Dīn, dashed line signalling course of abandoned “old city” wall (image source: Google Earth)

base of the present-day mound and the line of the outer wall amounts to 40 m. This layout of the citadel base is reflected in an eighteenth-century pictorial representation drawn by Louis François Cassas in May 1785 (Fig. 14).208 The picture, a view on the citadel from the west, clearly shows the moat and the rampart, as well as a twin-towered gate at that level. The gate may have already existed from the beginning, as after the building of the new city wall that part of the citadel was located extramuros. The lacuna left in the manuscript (fol. 60v), where the specification of the new city wall should have been quoted, is probably due to the fact that the latter was still under construction. Therefore, the erection of the new wall, certainly the one which is preserved in remains,209 has to be attributed to Nūr al-Dīn. The old city wall does not seem to have met the defensive requirements any longer, which is easily explicable in view of the frontier position of Homs and the permanent 208

L.-F. Cassas, VoyagepittoresquedelaSyrie,delaPhœniciedelaPalæstine,etdelaBasse- Ægypte, volumes I-III (Paris, 1799), III: no. 20. 209 For the most detailed description of the wall, which was furnished with seven gates and a forewall, probably from the time of Nūr al-Dīn, see A. von Kremer, MittelsyrienundDamascus. Geschichtliche,ethnografischeundgeografischeStudienwährendeinesAufenthaltsdaselbstin denJahren1849,1850u.1851 (Wien, 1853), pp. 220-221.

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Fig. 14: Homs, citadel, view from west showing moat, rampart and citadel gate at rampart level (Cassas III 1799, no. 20)

threat from the nearby Crusader territory. The citadel was therefore the only fortification of significance and thus paramount for the security of the Zankid state in this area prior to the building of the new city wall. This wall, which enclosed an area of 98 ha located north and northeast of the citadel, was linked to the northwest and the northeast side of the rampart surrounding the citadel mound (Fig. 13). It had a length of c. 3,665 m excluding the section of the rampart facing the new city. Interestingly, the Great Mosque, which was refurbished by Nūr al-Dīn to such an extent that it was named after him, was integrated into the wall circuit, with its north section abutting on the wall.210 The length of the old city wall measured 9,150 Qāsimī cubits (6,592.6 m) according to the manuscript. There is evidence that the east wall of the new city coincides with a section of the east wall of the previous enceinte. Although no (other) part of the latter is preserved, its course can roughly be traced along topographical lines, resulting in an urban area of c. 333 ha, given the length quoted in the manuscript. In all probability, this must have been the ancient city wall of the Roman or Byzantine period. In the same manner as at Baalbek 210 On the mosque see R. Badrī, “Jāmi῾ al-Nūrī bi-Ḥimṣ”, Lesannalesarchéologiquesarabes syriennes 31 (1981): 167-176.

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Nūr al-Dīn reduced the urban area and enclosed it with a new wall adapted to modern fortification standards, thus rendering it more defensible due to its compactness. CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: MANBĪJ According to contemporaneous accounts, Manbīj was a large city in the medieval period, surrounded by an extended wall and furnished with a citadel separate to it to the north.211 Both are attributed to the Byzantines, for which reason we may assume that in the Middle Ages the walls erected by Justinian I in the 530s still existed at that time. Nūr al-Dīn had inherited the town from his father Zankī, although in 1167 he had to assert his authority when the new holder of the iqṭā῾, Ghāzī ibn Ḥassān, rebelled against him. Nūr al-Dīn had to lay siege to it after he was able to take it over again.212 Thereafter, in 563/1168 the walls were rebuilt.213 Nowadays almost nothing of these walls exists save some stretches of an embankment northwest of the town centre, indicating the course of the former walls and a moat linked to it. Considerable remains were nevertheless still to be seen during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The fullest account of the fortifications is given by Pococke who visited Manbīj in 1741.214 According to him, the walls were studded with towers at a distance of 50 paces and furnished with four gates and a surrounding moat. The manuscript provides a circumference of the city wall of 9,062 hand cubits (4,519.7 m) and the number of 101 towers, without making mention of the citadel, which must have existed in this period due to references from 1176, the year in which Saladin took it.215 Maundrell, who visited Manbīj in 1697, noticed that the wall “cannot be less than three miles in compass”, which coincides fairly closely with the dimension quoted in the manuscript. Arithmetically speaking, there must have been a tower at every 45 m, which accords with the distance of 50 paces between them, as stated by Pococke. Although there is a nineteenth-century plan roughly delineating the course of the walls,216 the exact determination of their line, in particular on the south and east sides, remains a desideratum. 211 For an overview see G. Le Strange, PalestineundertheMoslems.ADescriptionofSyria and the Holy Land from A.D. 650 to 1500. Translated from the Works of Medieval Arabic Geographers (London, Boston, New York 1890), pp. 500-501. 212 Kamāl al-Dīn, Zubdat, 35; Ibn al-Athīr, Al-Ta’rīkh, 241. 213 Elisséeff, “Les monuments”, 33; id., Nūrad-Dīn, III: 709. 214 R. Pococke, ADescriptionoftheEastandsomeotherCountries, vol. II.1: Observationson PalæstineortheHolyLand,Syria,Mesopotamia,Cyprus,andCandia (London, 1745). 215 Abū Shāma, Kitābal-Rawḍatayn, 182. 216 E.G. Rey, Rapportsurunemissionscientifiqueaccomplieen1864-1865danslanordde laSyrie (Paris, 1867), Pl. X.

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Fig. 15: Ṣalkhad, citadel, conjectured wall lines of the concentric fortification in the time of Nūr al-Dīn (image source: Google Earth)

CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: ṢALKHAD The citadel of Ṣalkhad, also referred to as Ṣarkhad or Ṣarkhat, has never been properly surveyed and its fabric has never been investigated thoroughly.217 It was founded in 466/1073–74 when the place was in the hands of the Fāṭimid Caliph al-Mustanṣir (r. 1063–1094). There are no references to building works until the Ayyūbid period, nor were there any damages reported caused by the earthquakes of the 1150s, although it may be assumed that Nūr al-Dīn had spent some effort on reinforcements, as at neighbouring Bosra. During the Ayyūbid period extensive reconstruction works are recorded leading to the castle’s present-day appearance. According to the manuscript (fol. 61v) the circumference of the castle’s main wall measured 625 (unspecified) cubits (311.7 m), whereas that of the forewall (faṣīl) measured 767 cubits (382.5 m).218 Notwithstanding 217

For an overview of the history of the town see M. Meinecke, “Ṣalkhad, exemple de villeforteresse islamique”, in LeDjebelel-῾Arab:histoireetpatrimoineaumuséedeSuweidā’, eds. J.-M. Dentzer and J. Dentzer-Feydy (Paris, 1991), pp. 93-100; id., “Ṣalkhad”, in EI2, VIII: 994996. 218 Due to the abbreviated spelling the figure of the latter could also be read as 967 cubits (482.3 m). This dimension may be related to the rampart beyond the moat that surrounds the

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the ruinous state of the castle, the concentric fortification on top of the volcanic cone, upon which the walls were erected, is still clearly discernible. The indication in the manuscript documents that the double wall scheme already existed in Nūr al-Dīn’s time (Fig. 15). As the ongoing deterioration of the site has laid bare pre-Ayyūbid structures, it is easily perceivable that the Ayyūbid reinforcements were built on pre-existing lines. The circumferences of both the main wall and the forewall quoted in the manuscript fit well into this scheme. CASTLE AND TOWN WALLS: TALL BĀSHIR According to the findings gained in the course of archaeological investigations from 1996 to 1998,219 which were directed at the medieval occupation of the site, the tell was fortified for the first time during the tenth century. After several changes of ownership, the site, then dubbed “Turbessel”, was an important fief of the Crusader County of Edessa (1097–1150).220 During this period the old mud brick wall was rebuilt in stonework. Tall Bāshir was incorporated into Zankid territory after it had been conquered in 1151 by the emir Ḥassān al-Manbījī, a commander of Nūr al-Dīn’s troops.221 It seems to have suffered some damage on account of the 1157 earthquake, although no specific repair works are recorded.222 The comparatively high tax relief of 21,000 dīnārs conceded by Nūr al-Dīn to Tall Bāshir in that year was not targeted but conceived as a general support for the populace.223 This, and the fact that the place remained under Nūr al-Dīn’s personal authority until 564/1168–69 adds to the importance attached to it. After Nūr al-Dīn’s death it remained as an iqṭā῾ with Badr al-Dīn Dildirim who refurbished its fortifications and added a suburb.224 Until its destruction by Sultan Baybars in 1263, the tell was crowned by an enceinte enclosing an area of 1.4 ha, which in its latest stage seems to have had 19 towers, including volcanic cone. Such a wall can be seen on ancient photographs, although its construction reveals that it was built in the Ottoman period. Given this, the moat must have been narrower than the extant one, leaving a distance of 10–12 m to the base of the cone. 219 M.-O. Rousset and R. Ergeç, “Tell Bāšir 1996”, AnatoliaAntiqua 5 (1997): 343-348; id., “Tell Bashir (Tilbeshar) (9/05 - 19/06/1997)”, Anatolia Antiqua 6 (1998): 343-347; id., “Tell Bashir (Tilbeshar 9/05 - 18/06/1998)”, AnatoliaAntiqua 7 (1999): 253-264; M.-O. Rousset, “Projet de travaux archéologiques à Tilbeshar (ancien Tell Bashir), Turquie”, 2006 (https://halshs. archives-ouvertes.fr/halshs-00359766). 220 Hellenkemper, Burgen, pp. 38-43; H.-P. Eydoux, “Le château franc de Turbessel”, Bulletin monumental 139 (1981): 229-232. On the history of the site see in addition Ibn Shaddād, Al-a῾lāq, 61-67; E. Honigmann and D.W. Morray, TallBāshir, in EI2, X: 167. 221 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl, 309; Abū Shāma, Kitābal-Rawḍatayn, 73. 222 Ambraseys, “Seismic paroxysm”, 749. 223 Abū Shāma, Kitābal-Rawḍatayn, 39. 224 Ibn Shaddād, Al-A῾lāq, 65.

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those of a twin-towered gate on the south side.225 The gate features a bent entrance with a doorway in the flank of the east tower, a characteristic feature of Ayyūbid fortifications.226 According to the manuscript, the castle (qal῾a) had a circumference of 300 Qāsimī cubits (216.15 m) and was furnished with 15 towers. The circumference of the “[wall of the] bailey” (al-ḥawsh) measured 925 Qāsimī cubits (666.5 m), featuring 12 towers. The circumference of the “city wall” (sūral-madīna) measured 622 Qāsimī cubits (448.15 m), with no towers mentioned. The circumference of the enceinte established by the abovementioned investigations amounts to c. 575 m,227 which is by far less than the dimensions given in the manuscript for the “castle” or the “bailey”. It seems to refer to another, larger enceinte, of which a small section was excavated during a further campaign in 1999.228 At the southwest slope of the tell an angled section of a c. 2.5 m wide wall was exposed (sondage E), most probably part of a tower, consisting of mud bricks and based on a stone foundation. The dimension of this enceinte would fit more closely to that of the “bailey”, not to that of the “castle”, which must have occupied only a part of the platform of the tell, due to the dimension quoted. It is tempting to assume that this was the east section, as remains of buildings of a residential character were excavated there, although these were attributed to later periods.229 Surprisingly, when placing the “castle” here by using the line of the later enceinte, established by the 1996–1999 investigations, the resulting cross-wall will be in line with interior structures exposed in 1999 (sondage F1).230 Their eastern part may thus be interpreted as a gate with an adjoining section of the cross-wall. The “city wall” must thus have occupied the remaining area on top of the tell. On the supposition that the course of this wall likewise coincides with that of the Ayyūbid enceinte in this section, the result will be a cross-wall, which, given that it ran parallel to that of the “castle”, will be c. 22 m distant from the latter. Furthermore, this arrangement lets the eastern tower of the gate on the south side emerge as a corner tower of the “city wall”, 225 The gate was completely exposed and documented in 1996/97: Rousset and Ergeç, “Tell Bashir” (1998): 344 Fig. 1. 226 Hanisch has attributed the construction of the gate to the Crusaders who employed an Armenian workforce, exemplified by the use of the Armenian foot of 32.06 cm as the principal unit of measurement: H. Hanisch, “Über einige Tore und Türme an der Nordgrenze des fāṭimidischayyūbidischen Reiches. Ein Beitrag zur Kenntnis des armenischen Bauhandwerks”, in Egyptand SyriaintheFatimid,AyyubidandMamlukErasVIII, eds. U. Vermeulen, K. D’hulster and J. Van Steenbergen (Leuven, 2016), pp. 15-19, 40. However, this does not rule out an Ayyūbid rebuilding, as Ayyūbid builders often employed Armenian masons and architects for their construction campaigns, as indicated by Hanisch for several other sites. 227 Rousset and Ergeç, “Tell Bashir” (1999): 254 Fig. 1. 228 C. Kepinski-Lecomte and H. Ahlan, “Tilbeshar, site du sud-est anatolien, de la fin du quatrième au milieu du second millenaires av. J.-C.”, AnatoliaAntiqua 9 (2991): 207-214. 229 Rousset and Ergeç, “Tell Bashir” (1999). 230 Ibid., 253-258.

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Fig. 16: Tall Bāshir, fortifications on the tell according to the manuscript (map source: Rousset 2006)

with its internal doorway leading directly into the zone between the two crosswalls postulated (Fig. 16). The solution presented here as a working hypothesis, which needs to be substantiated by further research, consists of a layout of the site as follows: The east section of the platform on top of the tell was occupied by a citadel (qal῾a), fortified with 15 towers, enclosing an area of c. 3,000 m². It is separated by a c. 22 m wide ditch from a further walled area, the “city” (madīna), with no towers mentioned and covering an area of c. 10,000 m² on the western part of the platform. The access to these two precincts was provided by a gate tower at the southeast corner of the wall of the “city”, leading to a ditch from which gates in either cross-wall could be reached. The entire platform was surrounded by a further enceinte, the wall of the “bailey”, in fact a forewall, fortified with 12 towers turning the place into a heavily fortified stronghold. The dimensions quoted in the manuscript for the walled areas do not apply to one of the two external suburbs, which were established by the investigations. They may nevertheless have been settled throughout the medieval period. The suburb north of the tell, fortified prior to the larger southern one, was enclosed by a wall which was at least 900 m long. It may have been the one established by Badr al-Dīn Dildirim during the late 1170s, according to Ibn Shaddād.231 231

Ibn Shaddād, Al-A῾lāq, 65.

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Crusader sources equally suggest that only the tell itself was fortified and that the “city” was located on top of the tell.232 Therefore, neither the Crusaders nor Nūr al-Dīn seem to have modified the general layout of the site.233 During the Ayyūbid period, the separation between citadel and “city” was abandoned and the wall around the edge of the tell rebuilt as a continuous enceinte, with fewer but stronger towers. As the suburbs provided additional protection the outer wall seems to have been redundant and was thus levelled. CONCLUSION The part of the manuscript BnF arabe 2281 dealing with the dimensions of castle and town walls, as well as with distances along major routes within the state of Nūr al-Dīn about five years before its disintegration, is a unique source. Due to its specific data and the date given, the year 564/1168–69, it is a mine of information for historians and archaeologists engaged in studies on the topography, the history of places, the urban development, the fortification history and archaeology, and the history of metrology in the medieval Middle East. Its character is that of a technical report containing data from different surveying teams which were employed all over the country. It may well be read as a final report on works commissioned by Nūr al-Dīn to improve the security and the infrastructure of his state. Therefore, it may be assumed that at all the sites quoted Nūr al-Dīn had reinforced the fortifications, all the more so given that most of them were affected by the series of earthquakes that had afflicted Syria during the 1150s. Although in Islamic sources there are several examples of the quoting of dimensions, which were likewise obtained by professional surveying, there is no other text containing such a comprehensive set of specific data. It is an embodiment of the strong interest in mathematical and metrological issues, bearing witness to the high standard of Islamic science and technology in the Middle Ages. 232 William of Malmesbury, Degestisregumanglorum, lib. IV, ed. W. Stubbs (London, 1889), II: 435: “oppidum natura munitum”, which cannot refer to a location of the oppidum on flat ground; William of Tyre, Chronicon X 23 (24), I: 483: “opidum munitissimum”; Albert of Aachen, HistoriaHierosolymitanaeexpeditionisIII 17, ed. M.P. Meyer [RHC Hist. occ. IV] (1879), p. 350: “civitate cum arce praesidii”. These sources refer to the pre-Crusader status. 233 A comparable example is Afāmiya (Qal῾at al-Muḍīq) in Syria, where the medieval town occupied the platform of a tell, equally divided into a smaller residential quarter to the east and an urban area to the west, with a ditch in front of the cross-wall and a surrounding enceinte on the edge of the tell top: P. Dangles, “La refortification d’Afamiyya — Qal῾at al-Mudiq sous le sultanat ayyoubide d’Alep (fin XIIe - mi XIIIe siècles)”, in LafortificationautempsdesCroisades, eds. N. Faucherre, J. Mesqui and N. Prouteau (Rennes, 2004), pp. 189-204; id., “Afāmiya — Qal῾at al-Muḍīq. Die mittelalterliche Wiederbefestigung der antiken Zitadelle von Apamea am Ende des 12. bis Mitte des 13. Jahrhunderts”, in BurgenundStädtederKreuzzugszeit, ed. M. Piana (Petersberg, 2008), pp. 221-233.

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The manuscript was available in archives of Paris from the seventeenth century onwards, although despite its availability it was edited only in the middle of the nineteenth century. Up until now it has been used only by very few scholars dealing with the medieval topography of Syria. This may have been due to one of the key issues to be handled when evaluating the data contained, namely the assessment of the measurement units used. Only two of them, the hand cubit (al-dhirā῾aal-yad), and the parasang (farsakh), are well known. The length of the other two, both of much more relevance for the assessment of the sites than the former, had not been determined as yet. One of them is only designated as “cubit” (al-dhirā῾a), without further specification, while the other one is labelled as Qāsimī cubit (al-dhirā῾aal-Qāsimī). With the utilization of buildings still standing, it was possible to determine their length. The unspecified cubit turned out to be identical to the well-known legal cubit (al-dhirā῾aal-shar῾iyya) whereas the Qāsimī cubit must have been derived from the black cubit (al-dhirā῾aal-sawdā’) by adding two further palms (qabaḍāt), amounting to a length of 72.05 cm, or eight sixth of the black cubit of 54.04 cm. This unit was introduced in the early eighth century, during the caliphate of al-Walīd (r. 705–15), by the geodesist alQāsim bin Ziyād bin Bakr who was later governor of the Ghūṭa of Damascus. It was used predominantly in Damascus and its dependent territories, although only until the end of the Zankid period. Its dependency on the “Egyptian” black cubit casts new light on the emergence of the latter. This likewise may have been introduced by al-Walīd when he built the first nilometer on the Island of Rawḍa in Cairo. With the assessment of the length of these units, it was possible to evaluate not only the circumferences of the walls of major fortifications in the state of Nūr al-Dīn, but also to obtain new evidence concerning their layout. Although some of the figures quoted in the manuscript were not easy to decipher, the data referring to the castle and town walls turned out to be of a high degree of reliability. The evaluation of the distances between places, however, revealed a considerable incidence of inaccuracies, which may be explained by scribal or transmission errors. Nonetheless, they provided a sound basis which allowed for a more profound investigation of the policy of Nūr al-Dīn concerning the borders of his state and their protection. The analysis of each section along its northern, western and southern boundaries revealed that Nūr al-Dīn ingeniously shaped a well-defended border zone, with key fortresses along the foot of mountain ranges. Extended plains in front of them, such as the Orontes Valley, the Ghāb Plain, and the Bekaa Valley, acted as demilitarized buffer zones, where fortifications were destroyed to prevent them from being used by the enemy, where Turkmen groups were settled and which were covered by treaties signed with neighbouring powers. The most relevant new insights obtained on castles and town walls in that period concern the citadels of Amman and A῾zāz, the town walls of Baalbek,

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the citadel and town wall of Bānyās, the citadels of Bosra and Edessa, the urban layout of Hama, the citadel of Homs, the urban topography of the latter and of Manbīj, the citadel of Ṣalkhad, and the town wall and citadel of Tall Bāshir, which, interestingly enough, must have been both located on top of the tell. Nevertheless, many open questions remain. The conclusions drawn from the manuscript, however, provide a sound basis for future research into the public infrastructure of Nūr al-Dīn’s state in Syria. MATHIAS PIANA

IMĀMS ET SOUFIS ANDALOUS ET MAGHRÉBINS À KALLĀSA (FIN DU XIIᵉ SIÈCLE ET DÉBUT DU XIIIᵉ SIÈCLE)

Nous soutenions dans un article sur al-Zāwiya al-Gharbiyya de Damas que les institutions religieuses damascaines de l’époque médiévale sont connues grâce notamment à leurs occupants (enseignants, shaykh, muḥaddith,imāms... Etc), ceux qui les ont utilisées pour diverses activités ou qui les ont simplement fréquentées. Les données biographiques restent donc d’une grande utilité pour compenser l’absence d’informations précises sur les waqfsde ces institutions1. A Damas, les structures religieuses entourant la grande Mosquée ont connu une activité diversifiée. Kallāsa2 qui jouxtait le portique nord-ouest de la grande mosquée fait partie de ces fondations. Elle n’a cessé de se réinventer un rôle religieux nouveau grâce notamment à cet emplacement3. De nombreux textes la considèrent comme une madrasa shāfi῾īte, mais des études contemporaines proposent d’autres appellations. De nouveaux textes, majoritairement maghrébins, viennent nous apporter des éléments nouveaux sur le rôle de cette fondation ou plutôt de son imām Abū Ja῾far al-Fanakī un soufi et muqri᾿(lecteur) de renom. Les certificats d’audition constituent aussi une matière riche en informations, indispensable à une analyse qui repose essentiellement sur les données biographiques. 1. ABŪ JA῾FAR AḤMAD B. ῾ALĪ AL-QURṬIBĪ UN SOUFI — MUQRI᾿ ANDALOU À DAMAS La présence à Damas d’hommes de religion maghrébins remonte au moins à l’époque bouride. C’est le cas d’al-Faqīh Ḥujjat al-Dīn Yūsuf b. Ḍūnās alFandalāwī l-Maghribī (m. 543/1148) mort à Nayrab près de Damas lors de la deuxième croisade. Il est connu pour avoir dirigé la ḥalqa malikite à la grande mosquée de Damas4. En plus de cette ḥalqa, Kallāsa connut à son tour une 1

Concernant les fondations pieuses, de nombreuses informations figurent dans les notices biographiques des fondateurs ou celles des occupants de ces fondations. Voir notre article: «La Zāwiya al-Gharbiyya de Damas de la fin du XIᵉ siècle au début du XIIIᵉ siècle, de Zāwiya à Madrasa», dans EgyptandSyriainthefatimid,ayyubidandMamlukeras VIII, éds. Urbain Vermeulen, Kristof D’hulster et Jo Van Steenbergen [Orientalia Lovaniensia analecta, volume 244] (Leuven-ParisBristol: Peeters, 2016), pp. 231-247. 2 Sera utilisée ici la forme «Kallāsa». 3 Voir: Konrad Hirschler, MedievalDamascus,PluralityandDiversityinanArabicLibrary: TheAshrafiyaLibraryCatalogue, (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2016), pp. 1-132. 4 Voir à ce sujet: Ibn al-Qalānisī, DhaylTārīkhDimashq, (Beyrouth: P. Jésuites, 1908), p. 293. Ibn al-Athīr, al-KāmilfīlTārīkh, éd. Muḥammad Yūsuf al-Daqqāq, (Beyrouth: Dār al-Kutub

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activité religieuse soutenue à partir du milieu du XIIᵉ siècle et vit l’arrivée de nombreux soufis et hommes de religion originaires de l’Andalus et du Maghreb5. La présence à Kallāsa de ces populations, appelées par les auteurs orientaux al-maghāriba, fut favorisée par l’arrivée au pouvoir à Damas de Nūr al-Dīn (m. 569/1174) et de son successeur Saladin (m. 589/1193). L’année 570/117475 marque le début d’une présence andalou-maghrébine soutenue au sien de cette fondation. Elle correspond en effet à l’arrivée d’Abū Ja῾far Aḥmad b. ῾Alī b. Abū Bakr b. Ismā῾īl al-Qurṭūbī (m. 596/1200) à Damas et à son installation à Kallāsa. Pour comprendre le rôle de ce personnage et celui de sa communauté, il convient de revenir sur son parcours à la fois de soufi et de muqri᾿. 1.a. Première formation Né à Cordoue en 528/1134, Abū Ja῾far s’intéresse dès son plus jeune âge au Ḥadīth et aux lectures coraniques (al-qurā᾿āt). Il fréquente d’abord, en compagnie de son père Abū l-Ḥasan ῾Alī, le cours d’Abū l-Walīd b. ῾Abd al-῾Azīz al-Dabbāgh: un spécialiste du Ḥadīth proche d’Abū Zakariyyā b. Isḥāq b. Ghāniya al-Masūfī (m. 579/1184), gouverneur almoravide de Cordoue à cette époque6. Abū Ja῾far se rend aussi auprès d’Abū Bakr b. Muḥammad b. Ja῾far b Ṣafī al-Jiyyānī pour apprendre al-qirā᾿āt,selon la méthode des sept lectures, et pour s’initier aux règles de cette discipline7. Cette étape andalouse, qui s’effectue à Cordoue, s’achève vers 556/1161 par un départ en direction de l’Orient. Abū Ja῾far part accompagné de son père parfaire ses connaissances et faire un séjour de pèlerinage et de mujāwara à La Mecque. Leur premier arrêt, sur lequel des informations parviennent jusqu’à nous, a lieu à Fès. Prospère dans la ville maghrébine, en ce début de la seconde moitié du XIIᵉ siècle, une activité religieuse qui se déroule essentiellement dans les mosquées. Cette activité tourne essentiellement autour de l’enseignement des qirā᾿āt. Les deux grandes mosquées de la ville, al-Qarawiyyīn et al-Andalus, la mosquée AbūJa῾far et la mosquée de Zuqāqal-Mā᾿ abritent à cette époque des soufis que l’on qualifie de mu῾allim. Cette appellation, ils la doivent à leur rôle dans l’enseignement du coran destiné à de «jeunes lecteurs». Fès devenue une ville almohade, commence à voir aussi un retour progressif mais sous contrôle d’un al-῾Ilmiyya, 2002), IX: 353 et al-Dhahabī, Tārīkh al-Islām, éd. ῾Umar ῾Abd al-Salām Tadmurī (Beyrouth: Dār al-Kitāb al-῾Arabī, 1997), XXXVII: 13. 5 Il faut citer l’étude pionnière de L. Pouzet, «Les Maghrébins à Damas au VIIᵉ/XIIIᵉ siècle» Bulletind’étudesorientales 28 (1975): 167-169. 6 Ibn al-Abbār, al-Takmila li Kitāb al-Ṣila, éd. ῾Abd al-Salām al-Harrās (Beyrouth: Dār alFikr, 1994), III: 204. 7 Ibn al-Abbār, al-TakmilaliKitābal-Ṣila, éd. Bashār ῾Awād Ma῾rūf (Beyrouth: Dār al-Gharb al-Islamī, 2011), I: 184.

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courant mystique représenté par des soufis actifs dans ces mosquées8. Abū l-Ḥasan Ibn Ḥirzahem (m. 559/1164), Abū Khuzar al-Awrabī (m. 572/1176), Abū Muḥammad Yaskar (m. 598/1201) et Abū Madyan (m. 595/1199) en sont les principaux représentants9. D’après al-Tamīmī, Abū Ja῾far al-Fanakī arrive à Fès au début de la seconde moitié du XIIᵉ siècle et intègre ce milieu qui compte déjà de nombreux soufis andalous. C’est au sien de cette communauté de mystiques pratiquant à la fois al-qirā‘a et al-taṣawwufqu’il trouve refuge à Fès10. La trace de la présence d’Abū Ja῾far al-Qurṭubī à Fès nous est suffisamment connue grâce à al-Tamīmī qui le rencontre une première fois à Fès et une seconde fois à La Mecque une vingtaine d’années plus tard. La notice biographique qu’il lui consacre, la seule en notre possession à donner des informations sur cette étape de Fès, le décrit comme étant très attaché à «la lecture du coran» et à la maîtrise de ses règles. Al-Tamīmī le qualifie aussi de «jeune pieux» et le classe parmi les ascètes qui ont fréquenté la ville et dont les noms figurent dans son ouvrage intitulé: al-Mustafādh11. Il parle de lui et de sa voix prodigieuse, lors des récitations, en disant: «wastawṭanabimadīnatfāsma῾aabīhiwahuwa idhdhākaṣaghīr.Wabihāqara᾿aal-qur᾿ānal-῾aẓīmwakānawasīmanḥalīman waqūranmujtahidanfīl-῾ibādatiminṣigharihtallā᾿anlilqur᾿ānḥasunal-ṣawt bihi12. 1.b. Pèlerinage et formation en Orient Le séjour du père et du fils à Fès prend fin au milieu de l’an 560/1160. Attirés par la mujāwara, Abū Ja῾far et son père quittent Fès pour prendre la direction de La Mecque. La trace du père, on la perd ici sans que l’on sache s’il meurt en Orient ou s’il retourne à Cordoue après son pèlerinage13. Abū Ja῾far s’installe quant à lui en Orient pour toujours. Entre 560/1165, date à laquelle il serait arrivé à La Mecque, et 570/1174-5, date à laquelle il s’installe à Damas, il semble se consacrer à la mujāwara et à des séjours studieux en Iraq. On peut parler d’une période de formation qui tourne autour des mêmes disciplines: le Ḥadīth et les 8 Al-Tamīmī, al-MustafādhfīManāqibal-῾Ubbād, éd. Muḥammad Cherif (Tétouan: Publications de la Faculté des Lettres et des sciences humaines-Tétouan, 2002), II: 15-28, 97-100. Voir à ce propos l’analyse de Mohamed Chérif, al-Mustafādh, I: 201-243. 9 Al-Tamīmī, al-Mustafādh, II: 15-28 et 97-100. 10 Voir à ce sujet notre article: Motia Zouihal, «Les milieux mystiques de Fès et de ses environs entre le milieu et la fin du XIIᵉ siècle: formation et évolution», dans éd. Claude Briand-Ponsart, Centresdepouvoiretorganisationdel’espace—Xᵉcolloqueinternational,Caen,2009—HommageàYvesModéran (Caen: PUC, 2014), pp. 605-612. 11 Al-Tamīmī, al-Mustafādh, II: 155-156. 12 Al-Tamīmī, al-Mustafādh, II: 155-156. 13 Ibn al-Abbār, al-Takmila, III: 204.

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lectures coraniques. Il rencontre à La Mecque deux érudits du Ḥadīth qui lui transmettent des connaissances approfondies dans ce domaine. Le premier est Abū Ḥafṣ ῾Umar al-Mayānishī (m. 581/1186). On le qualifie de muḥaddithmakka pour ces grandes connaissances dans ce domaine. Le second, Abū l-Ma῾ālī ῾Abd al-Mun῾im al-Farāwī (m. 587/1194) est un spécialiste des chaînes de transmission. Les sources lui donnent le surnom de musnid Khurasān14. Abū Ja῾far a également l’occasion de fréquenter à La Mecque un spécialiste de lectures selon la méthode d’al-tilāwabi-l῾ashar, un certain ῾Abd al-Kāfī15. Son séjour à La Mecque le met aussi en contact avec des soufis. Le témoignage d’Abū ῾Alī al-Ṣadafī, soufi andalou mort après 572/1175, nous permet de voir en Abū Ja῾far un «ascète». Abū ῾Alī al-Ṣadafī rencontre en effet Abū Ja῾far et parle de lui dans son ouvrage intitulé: al-Sirral-Maṣūmfīmāukrima bihil-mukhlaṣūn. Il le qualifie de: akbaral-῾ubbādwaafḍalal-zuhhād16. Sur sa présence parmi les soufis, il signale son rôle de «serviteur des pauvres» venus faire la mujāwaraà La Mecque: «qadwaqafanafsahu῾alākhidmatal- fuqarā᾿wal-munqaṭi῾īnraghbatanwamatāban»17. Al-Ṣādafī relate aussi deux anecdotes concernant Abū Ja῾far et signale d’une part son intervention pour secourir une femme pieuse malmenée lors de sa circumambulation (ṭawāf) par un magasinier/gardien de marchandises (aḥadal-khazana). Il signale aussi le soutien qu’apporte Abū Ja῾far à un pèlerin en détresse qui venait de perdre son escarcelle. L’information que donne al-Ṣadafī sur la première intervention se limite à une invocation prononcée par Abū Ja῾far contre cet agresseur. La seconde raconte en détail la façon dont Abū Ja῾far a aidé le pèlerin à trouver son escarcelle. Abū Ja῾far aurait alerté le cadi et ce dernier par ses moyens finit par retrouver l’objet du pèlerin18. Al-Ṣadafī nous informe également sur le rôle d’Abū Ja῾far comme imām. Selon lui, ce dernier se serait en effet fait connaître du cadi, des pèlerins et des mujāwirīn, nombreux à se rendre à la mosquée où il dirige la prière, par sa pratique régulière de la lecture et par la récitation du coran. al-Ṣadafī dit à ce propos: «rajulun…qayyimunbikitābAllāhal-῾azīz,qadwaqafanafsahū῾alāiqrā᾿ihi ḥtisāban19». Des déplacements d’Abū Ja῾far en Iraq, on retient son passage par Mossoul qui semble être une étape marquante dans son itinéraire oriental. Il s’y rend rencontrer le célèbre Abū Bakr Yaḥyā Ibn Sa῾dūn (m. 567/1172) dont la réputation dans le domaine des lectures coraniques fut remarquable. Cet érudit de 14

Riḍā Kaḥḥāla, Mu῾jamal-Mu᾿allifīn (Beyrouth: Mu᾿assasat al-Risāla, 1993), II: 325. Ibn al-Abbār, al-Takmila, éd. al-Harrās, III: 204. 16 Al-Ṣadafī, al-Sirral-MaṣūnfīMāUkrimaBihil-Mukhlaṣūn, éd. Ḥalima Farḥāt (Beyrouth: Dār al-Gharb al-Islāmī, 1998), pp. 144-145. 17 Al-Ṣadafī, al-Sirral-Maṣūn, 144. 18 Al-Ṣadafī, al-Sirral-Maṣūn, 144-145. 19 Al-Ṣafadī,al-Sirral-Maṣūn, 144. 15

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la langue coranique que les sources appellent shaykhal-Mūṣul fut originaire lui aussi de Cordoue et avait trouvé refuge dans la ville zankide devenue alors un centre religieux prospère grâce à ses nouvelles madrasas20. Abū Ja῾far s’installe enfin à Damas pour se rendre auprès d’al-Ḥāfiẓ Ibn ῾Asākir (m. 572/1176). Les cours du savant damascain lui permettent de consolider ses connaissances concernant le Ḥadīth et de maîtriser les différentes chaînes de transmission (sanad) authentifiées par ce maître shāfi῾īte connu pour ses nombreuses riḥla en direction debilādal-῾Ajamet par ses contacts avec les shaykh khurasāniens de cette discipline. La formation d’Abū Ja῾far auprès de ce savant de renom devait achever un parcours consacré en grande partie aux lectures coraniques, mais aussi aux disciplines du Ḥadīṭh et du Taṣawwuf. La majorité des auteurs qui s’intéressent à sa vie le mentionnent aussi comme un shafi῾ite. Mais son appartenance à ce madhhabsemble se produire à Damas grâce aux liens qu’il réussit à nouer avec les shāfi῾ītes damascians, mésopotamiens et iraniens très présents à cette époque dans les madrasas de Syrie et d’al-Jaẓīra. Enfin, on ne peut passer sous silence cette information sur l’un de ces ouvrages. Car il aurait rédigé en effet une description des lieux de pèlerinage avec des recensements précis des objets qui y se trouvent. Son texte, on le sait grâce à Ibn Jubayr, servit à la description faite par ce dernier d’al-Masjid al-Ḥaram, ses colonnes et ses mesures qui sont des mesures maghrébines — comme al-murja῾ — peu connues des orientaux à l’époque. Ibn Jubayr utilise le texte d’Abū Ja῾far pour rectifier ses informations sur le nombre de colonnes d’al-Ḥaram et pour décrire ses dimensions. Il dit à ce sujet: «waalfaytubikhaṭṭil-faqīhl-zāhidalwari῾abīja῾faral-fanakīal-qurṭubī...»21. Et dans un autre passage: «wawajadtu bikhaṭṭil-faqīhabīja῾faraḥmadb.῾alīal-fanakīal-qurṭubī» 22. 2. ABŪ JA῾FAR IMĀM

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Dans son article intitulé «Saladin’s Pious Foundations in Damascus: Some New Hypotheses», Anne-Marie Eddé évoque la question du rôle exact de Kallāsa. L’article apporte de nouvelles réponses à cette question et souligne le problème de la confusion que provoquent les divers noms de cette structure appelée tantôt madrasa tantôt mosquée dans les sources23. Aujourd’hui dispa20 Voir sur ce personnage et son rayonnement: al-Dhahabī, SiyarA῾lāmal-Nubalā᾿ (Beyrouth: Mu‘assasat al-Risāla, 2001), XX: 547-548. 21 Ibn Jubayr, Riḥla (Beyrouth-Alep: Dār al-Sharq al-῾Arabī, sans date),pp. 58, 70. 22 A notre connaissance aucune étude n’a été faite à ce jour sur notre personnage et ses écrits. Al-Dhahabī signale brièvement dans la notice biographique qu’il accorde à Abū Ja῾far ne parle pas du texte auquel fait référence Ibn Jubayr dans sa riḥla. Al-Dhahabī, Tārikhal-Islām, XLII: 230-231. Nous ne connaissons pas d’autres informations sur ce «livre» ou ces «notes» rédigées par Abū Ja῾far. 23 Anne-Marie Eddé, «Saladin’s Pious Foundations in Damascus: Some New Hypotheses», dans LivingIslamicHistory:StudiesinHonourofProfessorCaroleHillenbrand, éd. Yasir Suleiman(Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2010), pp. 62-75.

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rue, cette structure aurait joué des rôles multiples ce qui semble être derrière cette confusion. Néanmoins, Kallāsa aurait été un lieu où se déroulait la prière et de manière simultanée des séances d’enseignement. Certains savants damascains ont enseigné à Kallāsa dans le cadre d’un waqf qui leur a été octroyé par le pouvoir. Un waqf destiné non pas à la structure mais à l’enseignant qui délivre l’enseignement. Néanmoins, en la seconde moitié du XIIᵉ siècle Kallāsa semblait compter une salle de prière et de nombreuses pièces appelées parfois maqṣūra, darābzīna ou bayt destinées à accueillir un savant, des dignitaires, des bibliothèques et des résidents qui pouvaient être très souvent des soufis. Ces pièces pouvaient être des lieux dans lesquels on récite le coran et on étudie le Ḥadīth, à l’instar de Zāwiya d’al-Ḥadīthal-Ashrafiyya qui tire son nom de celui de son fondateur al-Ashraf Ibn al-Qāḍī al-Fāḍil24. Les ouvertures dans le mur nord de Kallāsa, appelées shubbāk, devaient relier «spirituellement» ce que l’on construira autour, notamment les turba ayyoubides, à l’édifice central où des lecteurs récitent le coran. 2.a. Kallāsa: une mosquée très fréquentée Si l’on ne peut réfuter le fait que les interventions de Nūr al-Dīn et de son successeur Saladin prévoient de l’enseignement au sein de Kallāsa -Abū Shāma parle de madrasatihi bi l-Kallāsa lorsqu’il évoque l’endroit où donne cours Muḥyī l-Dīn al-Qurashī- l’histoire de cette structure est marquée par la présence d’Abū Ja῾far al-Fanakī et de ses descendants d’une part et celle de soufis, d’autre part. Ibn jubayr décrit en effet Kallāsa dans sa Riḥla et l’aborde à partir du portique nord de la grande mosquée. Sa description très succincte ne s’intéresse qu’à la cour centrale et sa fontaine qui fait jaillir de l’eau25. La salle de prière, il la qualifie de majestueuse (masjid kabīr) mais sans donner de détail. C’est pour parler d’Abū Ja῾far et de l’enthousiasme que suscite sa présence auprès des Damascains, nombreux à venir prier derrière lui, qu’il évoque cette structure. Et il faut toutefois souligner que le séjour d’Ibn Jubayr à Damas se déroule en 580/1184 et Kallāsa semble devenir à cette époque un lieu où se réunit un nombre important de fidèles. Ibn Jubayr le mentionne clairement en disant: (wa yatazāḥamual-nās῾alāl-ṣalātifīhikhalfahultimāsanlibarakatihiwastimā῾an liḥusnīṣawtihi)26. On peut alors penser que l’installation d’Abū Ja῾far al-Fanakī à Kallāsa, au poste de imām, a permis l’essor de cette structure. La présence d’Abū Ja῾far aurait certes rendu attractive cette structure, mais le climat de tension entre les représentants des différents madhhabprésents au sein de la grande 24 Abū Shāma, Dhayl al-Rawḍatayn ou Tarājim al-Qarnayn al-Sādis wa l-Sābi῾, éd. ῾Izzat al-῾Aṭṭār al-Ḥasanī (Beyrouth: Dār al-Jīl, 1974), p. 159. 25 Ibn Jubayr, Riḥla,207-206. 26 Ibn Jubayr, Riḥla, 207.

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mosquée aurait en revanche rendu très difficile leur cohabitation au sein de celle-ci ce qui aurait favorisé le départ de nombreux fidèles vers Kallāsa. Durant le XIIᵉ siècle de nombreuses activités, dont l’enseignement et le prêche hebdomadaire (al-khuṭba), se déroulèrent au sein de la grande mosquée. Les ḥalqaqui représentaient l’espace où l’on délivre un enseignement lié un madhhab servaient aussi des lieux de prière pour les adeptes du même madhhab. Les affrontements entre les partisans des différents madhhabdevinrent alors inévitables27. Les plus récurrents opposaient les Shāfi῾ītes et les Ḥanbalites comme le signale Abū Shāma dans la longue notice biographique qu’il consacre à l’éminent savant shāfi῾ite Fakhr al-Dīn ῾Abd al-Raḥmān Ibn ῾Asākir (m. 620/1222). Ce dernier, pour se rendre à la Maqṣūrad’al-Ṣaḥāba (lieu où il passa l’essentiel de son temps en attendant ses rendez-vous d’enseignement) et à la Qubba d’alNaṣr(lieu où il enseigna le Ḥadīth), il devait contourner le Riwāq des Ḥanbalites (lieu où se tenait leur ḥalqa et leur prière) afin d’éviter d’éventuelles confrontations avec les partisans de ce madhhab. Selon Abū Shāma, Ibn ῾Asākir ne jouissait pas d’une grande popularité auprès des Ḥanbalites de Damas qui voyaient en lui un adversaire idéologique, pour son ash῾arisme. C’est lui que l’on voit faire sa prière à Kallāsa avant de se rendre au lieu de son cours à la grande mosquée28. Les rivalités entre les deux madhhab atteignirent leur apogée à la fin du XIIᵉ siècle où le grand cadi Muḥyī l-Dīn Muḥammad b. ῾Alī b. Muḥammad b. Yaḥyā al-Qurashī (m. 598/1202), shāfi῾īte, qui avait aussi la responsabilité de superviser les waqfs de la grande mosquée en même temps que celle de l’enseignement, à plusieurs endroits dont Kallasa, se prononça pour l’éloignement de la grande mosquée du savant ḥanbalite al-Ḥāfiẓ ῾Abd al-Ghanī al-Maqdisī (m. 600/1204). Ce dernier dirigeait alors la ḥalqa ḥanbalite à la grande mosquée. Si le cadi échappe à des représailles, ses relations avec les adeptes de cette ḥalqa ne s’améliorent pas, d’autant plus que le savant ḥanbalite sera obligé de quitter Damas après l’intervention de Ṣārim al-Dīn Buzghash al-῾Ādilī (m. 608/1211), alors gouverneur de Damas, dans cette polémique29. Ces rivalités entre les grandes figures des différents madhhab présents à Damas s’expriment comme le montrent ces témoignages au sein de la mosquée et la question de la prière se retrouve elle aussi au cœur de ces tensions. On sait par exemple que la destruction de la ḥalqa ḥanbalite survenue après la suppression du cours de ῾Abd al-Ghanī al-Maqdisi empêchera l’organisation de la prière dans ce lieu. De nombreux d’autres épisodes de ce type ont rythmé la vie des 27 Voir à ce sujet la description que fait Ibn Jubayr des différentes activités présentes au sein de la grande mosquée: Riḥla, 210-212. 28 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 138. 29 Abū Shāma,Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 46-47.

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partisans des madhhab au sein de la grande mosquée durant le XIIᵉ siècle. À l’époque bouride déjà, et plus précisément en 528/1134, un conflit entre deux groupes rivaux éclata concernant la question de la prière. Les détracteurs de Faḍā᾿il Ibn Ismā῾īl al-Badlīsī (m. 535/1140), alors imām à la grande mosquée, mirent en cause sa probité et le poussèrent à quitter son poste. Suite à cet événement, on imposera à tous les fidèles un imām issu uniquement du madhhab shāfi῾īte, ou le cas échéant, du madhhab ḥanafite. Il s’agissait au fait de rendre la imāma au madhhab majoritaire à Damas (le madhhab shāfi῾īte) ou celui soutenu par le pouvoir (le madhhab ḥanafite) 30. Kallāsa qui échappe à ces tensions voit ainsi sa population augmenter. 2.b. Abū Ja῾far imām à La Mecque Al-Tamīmī qui se rend à son tour à La Mecque en 576/1180, revoit au mois de ramaḍān 576 (janvier 1181) Abū Ja῾far31. Ce dernier, même après son installation à Damas, continue de se rendre régulièrement à La Mecque pour la mujāwara. Il s’y rend, selon al-Tamīmī, accompagné de son ami Abū l-Ḥasan Ibn al-Sakkāk, un soufi originaire de Fès installé à Alep32. al-Tamīmī signale aussi que le rôle d’Abū Ja῾far à La Mecqueétait de diriger la prière et de lire à haute voix le coran à la mosquée de Bāb Banū Shayba, une des principales mosquées de La Mecque où se réunissent mujāwirūn et soufis33. Ibn Jubayr qui accomplit le pèlerinage en 579/1183-84 rencontre lui aussi Abū Ja῾far à La Mecque et signale que cinq imāms étaient chargés de diriger les prières nocturnes des mujāwirīn durant le mois sacré. Abū Ja῾far assurait ce rôle en étant le troisième, dans l’ordre, des cinq imāms, une place qui semblait faire de lui le meilleur du groupe. Ses déplacements réguliers à La Mecque, dont parlent ces deux auteurs maghrébins, permettent de constater que sa réputation ne se limite pas uniquement à Damas. Elle s’étend désormais à l’ensemble de l’espace califal et notamment au Ḥijāz. Nous ne savons pas en revanche si cette charge de diriger la prière lors des périodes de ῾umra (petit pèlerinage), était effectuée dans un cadre officiel ou s’il s’agissait d’une démarche privée. On sait 30 Ibn ῾Asākir, TārīkhMadīnatDimashq, éd. Muḥibb al-Dīn al-῾Amrawī (Beyrouth: Dār al-Fikr, sans date), LXXI: 308-309. 31 Cette date correspond à celle du départ d’al-Tamīmī d’Alexandrie vers La Mecque. Il quitte en effet précipitamment Alexandrie suite à la mort, la même année, d’al-Ḥāfiẓ al-Silafī. Al-Tamīmī, al-Mustafādh, I: 103-108. 32 Al-Tamīmī, al-Mustafādh, II: 154. Sur Ibn al-Sakkāk et son activité comme soufi à Alep voir également: Ibn al-῾Adīm, Bughyatal-ṬalabfīTārīkhḤalab, éd. Suhayl Zakkār (Beyrouth: Dār al-Fikr, 1989), VIII: 4239. Ibn al-῾Adīm affirme que la tombe de ce soufi de Fès se trouve à Maqbarat Bāb al-Arba῾īn à Alep où sont enterrés de nombreux saints dont les maghrébins: al-Ḥāfiẓ Abū al-Ḥasan ῾Alī b. Sulaymān al-Murādī et al-Shaykh ῾Abd al-Ḥaqq al-Maghribī et un soufi qui occupait le poste deshaykhal-shuyūkh à Mossoul. Ibn al-῾Adīm, Bughyatal-Ṭalab, I: 446. 33 Al-Tamīmī, al-Mustafādh, 156.

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en revanche que l’année 579/1183 et aussi celle où le prince ayyoubide Ṭūghtukīn (m. 599/1202), arrive à La Mecque, depuis l’Égypte lors d’un voyage qui devait le conduire au Yemen pour y prendre le pouvoir34. On sait aussi, grâce à des certificats de pèlerinage, que des personnalités religieuses remarquables se rendaient à La Mecque pour effectuer la῾umra et offrir ensuite leur acte de piété au souverain35.

3. ABŪ JA῾FAR LECTEUR LORS DES

CÉRÉMONIES ET

RÉUNIONS RELIGIEUSES DES ÉLITES

Le parcours d’Abū Ja῾far à Damas ne se déroule pas uniquement à Kallāsa. En plus de ses déplacements à La Mecque pour assurer les prières durant la période du pèlerinage, il participe aussi à des événements religieux importants à Damas. Deux événements retiennent notre attention. Sa présence à la citadelle de Damas, à la mort de Saladin et sa présence à Ribāṭ Khātūn où il participe plusieurs fois à des séances du Ḥadīth données par deux soufis-muḥaddith venus de Bagdad, à savoir: Abū l-Faraj Yaḥyā b. Maḥmūd al-Asfahānī (m. 583/ 1187) et le shaykh al-shuyūkh de Bagdad, Ḍiyā᾿ al-Dīn ῾Abd al-Wahhāb Ibn Sukayna (m. 607/1210). 3.a. Abū Ja῾far et la mort de Saladin La mort de Saladin le mercredi 27 ṣafar 589 / 4 mars 1193 est un moment marquant dans la vie d’Abū Ja῾far. Bahā᾿ al-Dīn Ibn Shaddād, décrit la mort du souverain ayyoubide qui a lieu après douze jours de maladie. Cet auteur précise qu’«au soir du douzième jour, al-Malik al-Afḍal interpelle, al-Qāḍī al-Fāḍil, le grand cadi Muḥyī l-Dīn Ibn al-Zakī et Ibn Shaddād pour leur demander de passer la nuit à la citadelle au chevet de son père». Mais pour éviter d’éventuelles troubles dans les rangs de la population damascaine, al-Qāḍī l-Fāḍil s’opposera à cet avis et conseillera de faire venir à la citadelle le imām Abū Ja῾far al-Fanakī. Ce dernier sera le seul à être autorisé à rester auprès de Saladin, la nuit pour lui prodiguer des prières et lui faire entendre des versets du coran36. La présence d’Abū Ja῾far à la citadelle de Damas à la mort de Saladin montre la place qu’occupe désormais cet homme auprès des hommes de pouvoir. Il 34

Ibn Jubayr, Riḥla, 106-111. Jean-Michel Mouton, Dominique Sourdel et Jeanine Sourdel-Thomine, Gouvernance et libéralitésdeSaladin,d’aprèslesdonnéesinéditesdesixdocumentsarabes (Paris, L’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 2015), pp. 63-71. 36 Ibn Shadād, al-Nawādiral-Sulṭāniyyawal-Maḥāsinal-Yūsufiyya, SīratṢalāhal-Dīn, éd. Jamāl al-Dīn al-Shayyāl (Le Caire: Maṭba῾at al-Kānjī, 1994), pp. 367-369. 35

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s’agit de l’unique fois où l’on voit le imām de Kallāsa se rendre à la citadelle car aucune autre information ne nous a été signalée à ce propos. Néanmoins, un autre événement, celui de l’enterrement de Saladin près de Kallāsa, attire aussi notre attention. On sait qu’après un premier enterrement à la citadelle, le corps du souverain ayyoubide trouvera une sépulture dans une turba ou qubba construite en face de Kallāsa, dans sa partie nord. Ce transfert, effectué sous l’autorité du fils de Saladin, al-Malik al-Afḍal, a lieu au début de l’an 592/1196. Abū Ja῾far occupe encore Kallāsa, à cette date et on peut légitimement y voir une volonté de la part des successeurs du sultan ayyoubide de maintenir le défunt dans l’environnement de Kallāsa et celui de son imām Abū Ja῾far. Cette hypothèse trouve, en effet, tout son intérêt dans ce que disent les sources sur ce tombeau (ou qubba) et en particulier sur son shubbāk (fenêtre/ouverture) qui semble relier la turba de Saladin à Kallāsa. Abū Shāma signale l’existence d’al-shubbākal-ṣalāḥī et de shubbākal-kallāsa, qui semblent désigner deux ouvertures, l’une dans le mur de Kallāsa l’autre dans le mur de la turba. Les deux shubbāk se feraient face37. Ibn Khallikān visite lui aussi cette qubba et parle d’une porte qui donne sur Kallāsa. Il l’emprunte d’ailleurs pour accéder à la turba reliée également à la madrasa al-῾Azīziyya, construite plus tard par al-Malik al-῾Azīz38. On sait également que Kallāsa, par le biais de ses différentes pièces, était elle aussi devenue un lieu où s’installent des hommes de pouvoir. Ibn Shaddād qui nous informe sur la présence d’Abū Ja῾far à la citadelle de Damas la nuit du décès de Saladin précise d’emblée que derrière cette idée se trouvait al-Qāḍī al-Fāḍil (m. 596/1120). Cette figure de la chancellerie de Saladin fréquente régulièrement Kallāsa à cette époque et occupe l’une de ses maqṣūra (petite pièce) où il établit sa bibliothèque. C’est sans doute cette pièce qui deviendra en 628 une zāwiya d’al-Ḥadīth dont parle Abū Shāma et dans laquelle se tenaient des réunions de samā῾ (audition du Ḥadīth) sous l’égide d’al-Ashraf Ibn al-Qāḍī l-Fāḍil (m. 643/1244)39. On sait aussi qu’al-Malik al-Muḥsin Aḥmad — fils de Saladin — (m. 634/1236) possédait lui aussi une pièce (bayt) à Kallāsa. Ce bayt occupé auparavant par un muḥaddith nommé Ibn al-Dimyāṭī (m. 619/1221) et sa bibliothèque, deviendra un refuge pour des soufis maghrébins jusqu’au 37 Abū Shāma parle du «shubbākal-ṣalāḥī».Il se trouve, selon lui, face (qubālat) al-Kallāsa. Voir: Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 32. Il s’agit de l’endroit où le cadi Muḥyī l-Dīn al-Qurashī détruit devant des témoins des ouvrages de philosophie. Ce même auteur parle dans un autre endroit de «shubbākal-kallāsaal-muḥādhīliturbaṣalāḥiyya». Cet endroit fut le lieu où se tenaient les audiences du cadi Shams al-Dīn b. Sunnī al-Dawla (première moitié du XIIIᵉ siècle). Ibn Kathīr, parle également de «shubbākal-Kallāsa». Il le situe en face de la turba de Saladin, près de la porte de la Ghazāliyya.Al-Bidāyawal-nihāya, éd. ῾Abd Allāh b. ῾Abd al-Muḥsin Turkī (Riyād: Dār ῾Ālam al-Ḳutub, 2003), XIX: 82-83. 38 Ibn Khallikān, Wafiyātal-A῾yān, éd. Iḥsān ῾Abbās (Beyrouth: Dār Ṣadir, 1972), VII: 206. 39 La maqṣūra et la zāwiya disparaîtront pour laisser place à laTurbatal-Ashrafiyya (où sera enterré al-Malik al-Ashraf Ibn al-῾Ādil). Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 159. Sur la présence de bibliothèques à Kallāsa, voir: Hirschler, MedievalDamascus,102-132.

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début de l’époque mamelouke, au moins40. Al-Malik al-Muḥsin transmit en effet la pièce à un soufi originaire de Dukkāla (au Maroc) nommé, ῾Abd al-Ṣamad al-Dukkālī qui était à la recherche d’un abri pour lui et ses disciples. Al-Malik al-Muḥsin, connu dans les sources pour être un amateur du Ḥadīth, aurait été par sa présence régulière à Kallāsa en contact avec de nombreux muḥaddith, de passage à Damas pour enseigner cette matière. On sait grâce à Ibn al-῾Adīm que c’est lui qui fait venir d’Erbil à Damas un muḥaddithnommé Ḥanbal b. ῾Abd Allāh al-Ruṣāfī (m. 604/1207)41. Grâce à la présence Abū Ja῾far à Kallāsa, un réel bouleversement semble se produire dans cette structure en cette fin du XIIᵉ siècle. Celle-ci réunit désormais des hommes de religion, des personnalités appartenant à la dynastie ayyoubide et des personnalités qui représentent le pouvoir. 3.b. Abū Ja῾far lecteur à RibāṭKhātūn et dans d’autres structures damascaines Grâce à des certificats d’audition, on sait aussi qu’Abū Ja῾far était présent dans certaines structures d’accueil de Damas notamment à RibāṭKhātūn, Dāral- Ḥadīth al-Nūriyya et à la grande mosquée. Il participa à l’organisation des cours du Ḥadīth par la lecture de textes de cette matière ou par la rédaction de certificats d’audition actant les séances qui ont lieu dans ces structures connues de Damas. Nous présentons et analysons ici les données de trois certificats rédigés par Abū Ja῾far. a) Le premier certificat concerne une séance du Ḥadīth qui a lieu: le lundi 9 ṣafar de l’an 583. Cette séance est organisée par un soufi originaire d’Ispahan et nommé Majd al-Dīn Abū l-Faraj Yaḥyā b. Maḥmūd b. Sa῾d al-Thaqafī, (m. 583/1188)42. Le certificat conserve les noms d’onze auditeurs présents à cette séance: − Muḥyī al-Dīn Abū l-Ma῾ānī Muḥammad b. ῾Alī al-Qurashī (grand cadi de Damas) − ῾Anbar (ghulām au service du grand cadi) − Abū ῾Abd Allāh al-Ḥusayn ῾Abd al-Raḥmān b. ῾Abdān − Abū ῾Abd Allāh Muḥammad b. al-Marzubān b. Amīrak al-Jāwnī − Abu Bakr b. Ḥirz Allāh b. Ḥajjāj − Abū l-Khayr b. al-Mu῾ammar b. Ismā῾īl al-Tabrīzī − Abū l-῾Abbās Aḥmad b. Ibrāhī b. Abī al-῾Alā᾿ al-Azdī − al-Muṭahhar b. Muḥammad b. al-Muṭahhar al-Kalbī − Muḥammad b. ῾Abd al-Wahhāb b. Binān b. Sālim 40

Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 131. Voir à ce sujet: Ibn al-῾Adīm, Bughyatal-Ṭalab, 2979. Voir sur le passage de Ḥanbal par Kallasa: Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 62. 42 Abū Ja῾far al-Fanakī, Certificatd’audition (MS Dār al-Kutub al-Ẓāhiriyya 110, Damas), fol. 53. 41

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− Abū l-Ḥasan Muḥammad b. Aḥmad b. ῾Alī al-Qurṭurī (fils d’Abū Ja῾far âgé alors de 8 ans) − Abū Ja῾far Aḥmad b. ῾Alī al-Qurṭubī (rédige le certificat et le volume regroupant les textes du Ḥadīth enseignés par Majd al-Dīn Abū l-Faraj Yaḥyā al-Thaqafī, al-Asfahānī) b) Deux autres certificats nous renseignent sur le passage par RibāṭKhātūn à Damas du shaykh al-shuyūkh Ḍiyā᾿ al-Dīn ῾Abd al-Wahhāb Ibn Sukayna (m. 607/1210). Ils nous renseignent sur le thème de ces séances d’enseignement: al-Ghaylāniyyāt, un volume du Ḥadīth réuni par ce personnage et mis à disposition des auditeurs présents avec Abū Ja῾far dans cette structure. Les deux certificats couvrent une période d’enseignement, relativement longue car elle va du 4 rabī῾ I 585 à fin ṣafar 585. Les séances réunissent apparemment les mêmes auditeurs, ce qui aurait permis à Abū Ja῾far de ne noter que les informations qui concernent les dates, le lieu et les noms du muḥaddith — shaykhal-shuyūkh Ḍiyā᾿ al-Dīn Ibn Sukayna — et du possesseur Tāj al-Dīn Ibn Ḥammuwayh al-Juwaynī (m. 642/1242)43, deux personnalités connues des dictionnaires biographiques44. Les notices biographiques des deux enseignants et celle de Tāj al-Dīn nous permettent de constater les éléments suivants: – Majd al-Dīn al-Thaqafī est qualifié de soufi par les sources. La notice biographique que lui consacre l’historien damascain al-Dhahabī parle de sa formation qui se déroule en Iran où accompagné de son père, il effectue des nombreuses riḥla. Muni d’un recueil réunissant les textes du Ḥadīth collectionnés grâce à ses déplacements dans le Khūrasān, Majd al-Dīn se rend à Mossoul, à Alep et à Damas pour enseigner. Majd al-Dīn meurt à Hamadhān au retour de ses voyages qu’il effectua comme muḥaddith. Ce soufiapparaît surtout comme un connaisseur des réseaux des ribāt et des khanqāh, ce qui lui aurait permis de se déplacer entre les différentes villes zankides et ayyoubides sans se fixer dans un lieu précis. C’est en effet dans ce cadre qu’il arrive à RibāṭKhātūn à Damas. Cette pratique semble être courante chez les adeptes du Ḥadīth qui vivaient de ce type de voyage où ils pouvaient être en contact direct avec les élites locales45. La présence à son cours du grand cadi Ibn al-Qurashī donne une idée claire sur sa renommée à Damas auprès des savants damascains. 43 Abū Ja῾far al-Fanakī, Certificat d’audition (MS Dār al-Kutub al-Ẓāhiriyya 103, Damas), fol. 73. 44 Tāj al-Dīn est un jeune soufi lors du passage dushaykhal-shyūkh Ibn Sukayna à Damas. Il deviendra le shaykhal-shyūkh de Damas au début du XIIIᵉ siècle. Al-Malik al-Mu῾aẓẓam (m. 624/ 1226) nommera un autreshaykhal-shyūkh appelé Sadr al-Dīn al-Bakrī al-Nīsabūrī. Mais Tāj al-Dīn retrouvera ce poste après la mort d’al-Mu῾aẓẓam. Selon Abū Shāma, Tāj aurait aussi rencontré Majd al-Dīn al-Thaqafī à Damas en 583 — le muḥaddith du premier certificat —, mais son nom ne figure pas parmi ceux des auditeurs de ce certificat. Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍātayn, 174. 45 Voir à ce sujet le passage que consacre Abū Shāma à deux muḥaddith Ḥanbal et Ibn Ṭabarzad: Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 62.

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– Le shaykhal-shuyūkh Ibn Sukayna est quant à lui un soufi originaire de Bagdad issu de la famille des shaykh al-shuyūkh (al-Nīsābūrī). Son arrière grand-père maternel, Abū Sa῾d Aḥmad al-Sūfī al-Nīsābūrī, était le premier à s’installer à Bagdad pour fonder le Ribāṭ du Shaykhal-Shuyūkh et superviser la construction de la madrasa Niẓāmiyya en 457/1064. Cette mission lui aurait été confiée par Niẓām al-Mulk (m. 485/1092). Il est également le neveu du shaykh al-shuyūkh Ṣadr al-Dīn ῾Abd al-Raḥīm (m. 580/1184) connu pour son rôle du premier ambassadeur du calife al-Nāṣir et pour s’être rendu plusieurs fois auprès de Saladin à Damas46. Ibn Sukayna rencontre plusieurs fois, à La Mecque et à Damas, Abū Ja῾far et arrive à RibātKhātūn en 585/1189 envoyé lui aussi par le calife al-Nāṣir (m. 622/1225). Les sources le présentent comme étant le représentant de l’école shāfi῾īte auprès du calife. Ce dernier lui aurait confié en effet une ijāza et donné comme mission de diffuser, en son nom et dans l’ensemble du territoire califal, les textes du Ḥadīth cités dans cette ijāza 47. Les séances décrites par Abū Ja῾far dans les deux certificats d’audition se déroulent sous la responsabilité de Ḍiyā᾿ al-Dīn Ibn Sukayna et semblent faire partie de ses nombreux déplacements qui le conduisent pour la même raison au Ḥijāẓ, en Égypte et en Syrie. – Tāj al-Dīn Abū Muḥammad Ibn Ḥammuwayh est, quant à lui, le fils du premier shaykhal-shuyūkh de Damas: Abū Ḥafṣ ῾Umar Ibn Ḥammuwayh alJuwaynī (m. 576/1180). Il est aussi le frère du shaykhal-shuyūkh Ṣadr al-Dīn Ibn Ḥammuwayh al-Juwaynī qui meurt en 617/1120, à Mossoul, où il se rend sur ordre d’al-Malik al-Kāmil, demander aux Zankides de défendre Damiette qui venait de tomber aux mains des croisés48. Formé à Damas, Tāj al-Dīn fit un séjour à Marrakech auprès des Almohades entre 594/1198 et 600/1203-04. Ses liens avec les soufis et les savants maghrébins semblent se consolider davantage après ce séjour au Maghreb qui lui permis de faire connaissance avec de nombreuses personnalités religieuses et littéraires. C’est à lui que s’adresse Ibn Jubayr, depuis Alexandrie pour lui demander de fournir à un soufi maghrébin arrivé à Damas vers le début du XIIIᵉ siècle, une place dans l’une des structures d’accueil que compte la ville syrienne. La lettre d’Ibn Jubayr est très courtoise envers le shaykh Tāj al-Dīn et vante ses mérites. Elle permet aussi de mesurer son pouvoir sur les structures d’accueil et les milieux religieux de la ville: «li l-shaykh al-ṣāliḥ...an ynzala ma῾a l-ṣūfiyya -nafa῾a Allāh bi bakarātihim- aw yurattabafīimāmatimasjidifīhādhal-shahral-sharīf ...»49. 46 Sur ce personnage, voir: notre article, «Les missions diplomatiques des soufis aux XIIᵉ et XIIIᵉ siècles, organisation et aspects matériels», danse Actesducolloqueinternational: Culture Matérielle et Contacts Diplomatiques entre L’Occident Latin, Byzance et L’Orient Islamique (XI e-XVI eS.), Liège28-29avril2015, (Leyden: Brill, sous presse). 47 Al-Dhahabī, Tārīkhal-Islām, XLIII: 252-256. Et Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn,69-70. 48 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 174. 49 Ce passage d’Ibn Jubayr apparaît dans l’une de ses lettres conservées par Ibn al-Sha῾ār, poète du XIIIᵉ, originaire de Mossoul. Ibn al-Sha῾ār al-Mawṣilī, Qalā᾿id al-Jumān fī Farā᾿id Shu῾arā᾿ Hādhāl-Zamān, éd. Kāmil Salmān al-Jabbūrī (Beyrouth: Dār al-Kutub al-῾Ilmiyya, 2005), VI: 95.

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Outre ces informations biographiques qui donnent une idée claire sur le profil de ces personnalités présentes dans l’entourage d’Abū Ja῾far et sur la qualité de ces séances d’enseignement, ces certificats d’audition parlent du Ribāṭ Khātūn comme lieu où se déroulent ces activités. Il s’agit en effet d’un ribāṭ fondé par ῾Iṣmat al-Dīn Khātūn (épouse de Nūr al-Dīn et de son successeur Saladin) dans al-Sharfal-Qiblī à l’extérieur de Damas, à l’ouest de celle-ci, en 572/117650. En plus de ce que nous rapportent les certificats, ce ribāṭ semble devenir, sous Saladin, un lieu de rassemblement de soufis de renom, venus généralement de Bagdad et ou des villes iraniennes. On peut citer le nom de ῾Abd al-Wāḥid Ibn ῾Abd al-Wahhāb Ibn Sukayna (m. 608/1211) qui n’est autre que le fils du shaykh al-shuyūkh Ibn Sukayna qui nous a occupé précédemment. ῾Abd al-Wāḥid devient, d’ailleurs, le shaykh de ce ribāt où il choisit de séjourner pour fuir une situation contraignante à Bagdad51. On peut également citer un certain ῾Abd al-Laṭīf Ibn Ismā῾īl (m. 592/1196) qui est également un proche des Ibn Sukayna (oncle du shaykhal-shuyūkhḌiyā᾿ al-Dīn Ibn Sukayna). Il occupe le ribāṭ jusqu’à sa mort à Damas en 596/120052. On peut enfin citer le nom du shaykhal-shuyūkh Shihāb al-Dīn al-Suhrawardī (m. 632/1234) qui occupe lui aussi ce lieu lors d’une mission. Venu à Damas comme envoyé du calife al-Nāṣir, il se livre à son tour à l’enseignement dans cette structure d’accueil53. En plus du RibāṭKhātūn, Abū Ja῾far figure dans le même rôle dans d’autres lieu comme Dāral-Ḥadīthal-Nūriyya où il rédige un certificat d’audition en présence d’un dignitaire turc nommé Lu᾿lu᾿ al-῾Adilī. Il est aussi présent à la grande mosquée pour le cours d’Ibn ῾Asākir54. Sa présence dans ces trois fondations religieuses, en même temps que des soufis de renom venus de Bagdad et proches du calife et des personnalités issues de l’entourage des princes de Damasne laisse aucun doute sur la place à Damas. Lecteur d’exception, il est sans doute le meilleur dans ce rôle non seulement à Damas mais dans l’ensemble du territoire ayyoubide à cette époque. 3.c. Les fils d’Abū Ja῾far, ses successeurs à Kallāsa Tāj al-Dīn Abū l-Ḥasan Muḥammad (m. 643/1244) et Burhān al-Dīn Abū l-Ḥasan Ismā῾īl (m. 631/1233) succèdent tous les deux à leur père Abū Ja῾far au poste de imām de Kallāsa. Cependant, ils n’ont pas le même parcours. 50 Al-Nu῾aymī, al-DārisfīTārīkhal-Madāris, éd. Ibrāhīm Shams al-Dīn (Beyrouth: Dār alKutub al-῾Ilmiyya, 1990), II: 113-114. 51 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn,79. 52 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn,17. 53 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn,63. 54 Voir: S. Leder, Y. M. al-Sawwās et M. al-Ṣaghargī, Mu῾jam al-Samā῾āt al-Dimashqiyya, LesCertificatsd’auditionàDamas,550-750/1155-1349 (Damas: IFEAD, 1996), II: 46. Et Ibn ῾Asākir, TārīkhMadīnatDimashq, XLI: 300-301 (note de bas de page 3).

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– Tāj al-Dīn Abū l-Ḥasan Muḥammad est qualifié de musnidwaqtihi dans les sources pour ses connaissances dans le domaine du Ḥadīth. Cette discipline l’intéresse très tôt car on le voit accompagner son père à La Mecque, en 579/1184, à l’âge de cinq ans. Il rencontre aussi les deux muḥaddith du Ribāṭ Khātūn à Damas: Majd al-Dīn al-Thaqafī et Ḍiyā᾿ al-Dīn Ibn Sukayna, cités précédemment. Tāj al-Dīn succède à son père au poste de imām de Kallāsa où il se consacre aussi à l’audition du Ḥadīth. Il meurt à Damas en 643/124555. – Son frère Burhān al-Dīn est né en 579/1184. Il est qualifié d’ascète car il vit retiré dans le minaret est de la grande mosquée de Damas (al-Manāra al-Sharqiyya). Au début du XIIIᵉ, celle-ci est fortement fréquentée et accueille principalement des soufis. Burhān al-Dīn en fait partie car il y occupe une pièce où son père Abū Ja῾far avait vécu avant lui56. Autour de lui, d’autres soufis dont al-shaykh ῾Abd al-Raḥmān al-Yamanī (m. 620/1222) semblent être présents également. Ce dernier est connu pour ses liens peu apaisés avec les ayyoubides. Il leur reprocha le manque d’ambition dans la contre croisade57. On trouve également parmi ces soufis, Sa῾d Allāh Abū l-Fatḥ al-Ṭā᾿ī al-Manbijī (m. 651/ 1252-53). D’abord proche d’al-Malik al-Ashraf (m. 635/1237), ce soufi formé à Alep par Ibn al-Sakkāk — un ami d’Abū Ja῾far al-Fanakī — se retire dans ce minaret pour vivre comme un ascète. C’est l’incendie du minaret qui le poussera à trouver refuge à la Maqṣūrad’al-Ḥanafiyya, dans la grande mosquée58. Plus tard, Fakhr al-Dīn Muḥammad b. ῾Umar al-Ḥimyarī occupera la même pièce où il restera jusqu’à sa mort en 643/124459. Mais en plus de ces soufis du minaret est, on trouve autour d’Abu Ja῾far et de ces deux fils des soufis venus d’al-Andalus et du Maghreb. 4. LES AUTRES MAGHRÉBINS DE KALLĀSA La présence de nombreux soufis et muqri᾿ andalous et maghrébins à Damas a souvent été liée à celle d’Abū Ja῾far à Kallāsa. Cette institution semble jouer un rôle crucial dans le développement du réseau de cette population en Syrie60. Abū Shāma nous permet de mesurer l’importance de la présence de la population maghrébine lorsqu’il évoque le tremblement de terre qui frappe la Syrie et 55

Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 176. Abu Shāma parle du bayt Abū Ja῾far lorsqu’il évoque cette pièce. Abū Shāma, Dhayl al-Rawḍatayn, 177. Voir également al-Dhahabī, Tārīkhal-Islām, XLVI: 54-55. 57 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 136. 58 Ibn al-῾Adīm, Bughyat al-Ṭalab, 4239-4240. Sur cet incendie, voir: Abū Shāma, Dhayl al-Rawḍatayn, 182. 59 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 177. 60 Voir sur le développement de cette communauté: Pouzet, «Les Maghrébins à Damas», 167-182. 56

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Damas au mois de shā῾bān de l’an 598 (avril 1202). Il parle en effet des dégâts de cette catastrophe et signale que l’effondrement du minaret [nord] de la grande mosquée sur une partie de Kallāsa, celle qui jouxte la grande mosquée, fait un mort parmi les Maghrébins présents dans cette structure. Le nombre n’est indiqué, mais il est possible de penser qu’ils étaient assez nombreux à s’y rendre. C’est d’abord Abū l-Ḥasan ῾Alī Ibn al-Sakkāk, un compagnon d’Abū Ja῾far originaire de Fès qui semble résider à Kallāsa ou dans le minaret est au début de la seconde moitié du XIIᵉ siècle. Ce dernier fait la mujāwara à La Mecque et retourne à Damas avec son ami de Cordoue. Il finit par s’installer à Alep dans l’une de ses khānqāh61. C’est lui qui forme Abū l-Fatḥ al-Ṭā᾿ī al-Manbijī qui, nous l’avons vu, faisait partie des soufis de ce minaret62. A la fin du XIIᵉ siècle Kallāsa devient le foyer des soufis maghrébins le plus important à Damas. On y distinguent un groupe de soufis originaires de Dukkāla et de Maṣmūda comme: al-shaykh ῾Abd al-Ṣamad al-Dukkālī, Abū l-Barākāt Maymūn alZammūrī (m. 641/1243) et Abū l-Ḥasan ῾Alī l-Maṣmūdī63. Les disciples du shaykh ῾Abd al-Ṣamad y seront encore nombreux au milieu du XIIIᵉ. L’ascétisme et la vie spirituelle auxquels ils se consacrent se mêlent à la pratique de la lecture du coran64. On les trouvent enterrés dans deux cimetières à Damas: le cimetière des fuqarā᾿ maghrébins (MaqbaratFuqarā᾿al-Maghāriba), situé près de la Maghārat al-Dam (la grotte du sang) à Qāsyūn et dans Maqbarat Khalīl Ibn Zuwayzān, situé au sud du cimetière des soufis au sud-oeust de Damas. Ce cimetière a été constitué waqf par ce dignitaire65. On trouve également à Kallāsa deux personnalités dont le parcours ressemble à celui d’Abū Ja῾far. Il s’agit de Zakī l-Dīn Abū ῾Abd Allāh al-Birzālī (m. 636/ 1238) et d’al-Faqīh Muḥammad al-Murādī al-Sabtī (m. 626/1229). – Zakī l-Dīn Abū ῾Abd Allāh al-Birzālī nous laisse de nombreuses mashyakha qui réunissent les noms de nombreux shaykh orientaux et des textes de samā῾ (certificats d’audition) rédigés de sa main. Il occupe le poste de shaykh de Mashhad῾urwa , une pièce dans la grande mosquée transformée en bibliothèque par al-Malik al-Mu῾aẓẓam66. Cette pièce accueillait des livres constitués waqf et venus des différentes structures d’accueil entourant la grande mosquée. al-Mu῾aẓẓam aurait cherché par cette démarche à éviter la dispersion des livres des petites bibliothèques, des bibliothèques éphémères et des armoires des ḥalqa 61

Al-Tamīmī,al-Mustafādh, 154. Sur Ibn al-Sakkāk, voir: al-Tamīmī, al-Mustafādh, II: 154. 63 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 157. 64 Pouzet, «Les Maghrébins à Damas», 167-199. 65 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-rawḍātayn, 153. Voir sur les fuqarā᾿à Damas à cette époque: JeanMichel Mouton, Dominique Sourdel et Jeanine Sourdel-Thomine, «A propos de la «pauvreté» à Damas à l’époque ayyoubide: deux documents inédits», ArchivfürPapyrusforschung 57/1 (2011): p. 99-108. 66 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 128. 62

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de la grande mosquée67. Al-Birzālī finit par quitter ce poste pour une riḥla du Ḥadīthqui dura plusieurs années et qui l’amena au Khurasān. Il occupera à son retour à Damas le poste de imām à la mosquée Fulūs. Une mosquée située près de Maydān al-Ḥaṣā à Damas68. – Muḥammad al-Murādī al-Sabtī est quant à lui un imām qui fréquente Kallāsa et Zāwiya al-Gharbiyya de Damas pour l’audition du Ḥadīth. Il se distingue par ses initiatives envers les soufis de sa communauté et envers les fondations religieuses qui les accueillent. On lui reconnaît son rôle dans la restauration, par ses propres moyens, d’une mosquée située près de Dār alRakwa69. Proche du shaykh ῾Abd al-Ṣamad al-Dukkālī et des membres de sa communauté qui croyaient en sa sainteté, al-Murādī aurait permis l’installation d’autres soufis à Damas. Il fut inhumé à Qāsūn dans le cimetière des Maghrébins également70. CONCLUSION Le traitement des données biographiques présentées dans cet article, celles qui proviennent des dictionnaires biographiques, des sources hagiographiques et des certificats d’audition, permettent de tirer deux conclusions essentielles. La première concerne le rôle de ces Andalous et Maghrébins. Ces derniers, connus pour la maîtrise des règles des lectures coraniques comme l’avait constaté L. Pouzet, semblent participer à la mise en pratique de ces règles par différents moyens. Les prières quotidiennes en tant que imām, les prières occasionnelles et la récitation lors des réunions de pèlerinage à La Mecque sont les moyens les plus courants. Mais en plus de ces activités liées à leur rôle de imām, ces muqri᾿ sont aussi des muḥaddith qui participent à faire de la qirā᾿ une pratique qui s’étend aussi au Ḥadīth. Leur présence active et quasi-systématique aux séances d’audition du Ḥadīthpermet clairement de voir cet aspect. Abū Ja῾far, imām reconnu devient aussi lecteur des occasions religieuses, des cérémonies et des célébrations officielles. Celles qui réunissent à la fois les élites religieuses et les gouvernants. La seconde concerne le rôle précis de ces fondations où se croisent différentes activités. Décrites maintes fois dans les sources qui recensent les lieux religieux (al-Nu῾aymī, al-Dāris, par exemple), ces fondations apparaissent complexes via les données biographiques de leurs occupants. Elles semblent remplir différents 67

Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍatayn, 105-106. Al-Dhahabī, Tārīkhal-Islām, XLVI: 307-308. 69 On trouve aussi inscrit «masjid al-sabtī» dans le recensement d’Ibn ῾Abd al-Hādī des mosquées damascaines. Ibn ῾Abd al-Hādī, Thimāral-MaqāṣidfīDhikral-Masājid, éd. Muḥammad As῾ad Ṭalas (Beyrouth: IFEAD, 1983), p. 99. 70 Abū Shāma, Dhaylal-Rawḍātayn, 157. 68

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rôles qui disparaissent et réapparaissent au gré des époques et des situations. Le rôle central de Kallāsa est de réunir les fidèles pour la prière car il s’agit d’une mosquée. Mais elle est aussi un lieu d’enseignement et une structure d’accueil pour les soufis. Elle compte plusieurs bibliothèques et accueille des muḥaddith. MOTIA ZOUIHAL Ingénieur d’études — Collège de France

SECOND-HAND BUILDING MATERIAL ON MAMLŪK CONSTRUCTION SITES ABSTRACT The close observation of Cairo’s Mamlūk architecture reveals a frequent use of secondhand building material, previously removed from other buildings and sites. These reused architectural fragments were exploited from Ancient Egyptian, Greco-Roman and Byzantine-Coptic sites, but also from Fāṭimid, Ayyūbid and very often from other Mamlūk sites. This paper highlights these activities and focuses on the reemployment of marble, an expensive and rare material highly in demand.

1. INTRODUCTION The medieval architecture of Cairo owes its singularity and its distinctive identity to the ambitious building projects undertaken by the Mamlūk sultans and elites (1250-1517). These men, and women, invested in religious institutions, funerary complexes, palatial residencies and commercial edifices, but also offered service buildings to the population. This construction fever is not new, the Egyptian capital has, at all time, provoked the desire to mark the territory with architecture. The city inherited by the Mamlūks is already endowed with strong building traditions. The Ayyūbids built two citadels and a network of madrasa-s to restore the teaching of Sunnism, and when the Mamlūks seized power, the city intra-muros was already very urbanized.1 Cairo’s expansion plans were higly encouraged, allowing the creation of new ceremonial avenues and palatial neighborhoods.2 Under the Mamlūks, the medieval city metamorphosed to become the traditional city we know today. As the construction fever intensified, walking in the streets of Mamlūk Cairo must have been very chaotic and noisy: streets were hindered, dust invaded houses, voluminous materials generated traffic jams (medieval!), and very often demolitions occurred in preparation for a new construction site.3 To initiate a new construction site, the sultan designated one of his amirs or high bureaucrats to 1

André Raymond, LeCaire(Paris, Fayard, 1993), pp. 122-140. To the north with Ḥusayniyya and Lūq, to the south with Ṣalība, Midān al-Rumīla and Tibbāna, to the west with Azbakiyya and Nāṣiriyya after the Nile’s withdrawal, and to the east with the Cemeteries. 3 On the acquisition of land see Omniya Abdel Barr, «Art Urbain du Caire Mamlouk», PhD thesis, Aix-Marseille University, 2015, pp. 109-125. 2

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supervise the work.4 A plot of land was secured and cleared from old structures, a date was set to initiate the work and an avant-projet was conceived. Skilled and unskilled labor were hired, artisans were solicited and assistants were appointed. With a prosperous economy secured by an active international trade, providing financial resources was usually possible to initiate new construction projects.5 The real challenges on Mamlūk sites were primarily; a quick delivery and the procurement of building material.6 In other words, speed and quality were highly required. The local market offered a good variety of stones, bricks and granite, but it did not provide good quality marble nor sufficient wood.7 Both materials were largely imported.8 The supply chain of building material required precision to avoid discontinuity and delays on site. This explains the care put into securing building material, as they were not always available in sufficient quantity nor quality on local market. In my opinion, the first concern of Mamlūk builders was securing building material, and it could have even preceded hiring the workforce. If one needs speed on his construction site, it was essential to calculate in advance the time required to purchase, transport and prepare construction material in situ and in workshops. It was equally important to stock sufficient quantities. To accelerate the construction, Mamlūk builders, like their predecessors, were given the excuse to look for second-hand building material from ancient ruins, abandoned buildings and unfinished projects. The rich architectural heritage of Egypt, spanning form Ancient Egyptian, Greco-Roman and Byzantine-Coptic times, presented lucrative architectural opportunities, offering a full shopping list with a variety of architectural elements and fragments ready to be reintroduced and refitted into new structures, and carved to satisfactory dimensions: such as marble columns and panels, stone-blocks, bricks, bronze doors and windows, wooden beams and other woodwork, ceramic tiles, metalwork etc. The market value of these retrieved pieces should not be underestimated. Dismantling building material was not limited to pre-Islamic or Christian structures. It was also implemented on religious and secular buildings erected 4 This amir was usually holding the title of Shaddal-῾amā᾿iral-sultāniyyaorsuperintendent of the works. This responsibility later fused with the title of mu῾allimal-mu῾allimin which was connected to a high ranking Egyptian bureaucrat who became in charge of supervising the royal construction works. See D. Behrens-Abouseif, CairooftheMamlūks (Cairo: AUC Press, 2007), p. 47, and «Muhandis, Shād, Mu’allim - Note on the Building Craft in the Mamlūk Period», Der Islam 72 (1995): 293-309. 5 André Raymond, LeCaire(Paris, Fayard, 1993), p. 119. 6 For information on the cost of construction sites during the Mamluk period see Doris BehrensAbouseif, CairooftheMamluks (Cairo: AUC Press, 2007), pp. 45-48. 7 For more information on building material used on Mamlūk construction sites see Philipp Speiser, «Building Materials and Construction Methods», in Doris Behrens-Abouseif, Cairoof the Mamluks, pp. 101-105. See also Omniya Abdel Barr, «Art Urbain du Caire Mamlouk, manières de faire et enjeux sociaux», pp. 365-382. 8 Edmond Pauty, Catalogue général du musée arabe du Caire: Les bois sculptés jusqu’à l’époqueayyoubide (Cairo: Ifao, 1931), pp. III, IV.

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under the Mamlūks and other predating Muslim dynasties. In addition, spolia-s retrieved from Crusaders structures were reused as war trophies and reinstalled within Bahri Mamluk monuments. The identification of these architectural fragments, found in Cairo, and the understanding of their political, religious and symbolic meaning was first reported and examined in Mamlūk sources. Some ancient Egyptian spolia-s were documented in publications from the eighteenth century and later in the Descriptiondel’Egypte.9 At the beginning of the twentieth century, detailed inventories were made by Egyptologists, who deciphered the inscriptions and traced the pieces to a location and a dynasty. However, they rarely mention details on the medieval locations where these pieces were found.10 Pre-Islamic and Crusader spolia-s have also been examined by historians, architects and archeologists. K.A.C. Creswell (1879 – 1974) mentioned ancient stone blocks when identified within a monument, like in Bāb al-Futūh (c. 1087) with the lintel showing the god Amen-Rā and a cartouche of Thotmes IV.11 He also carefully studies the Crusader spoliafound at the entrance of the madrasa of Sultan Ḥasan (c. 1356)12, which was also examined by Herz Pasha (1856-1919) in his monograph on the monument.13 In 1955, Ḥasan ‘Abd al-Wahāb (18981867) published an accounts identifying the manqūlāt or the transferred architectural fragments found in Egypt’s Islamic architecture.14 Although he observed the reactions generated out of this practice, often stating a dissatisfaction, he does not explore the motives behind this use. Viktoria Meineke-Berg focused on spolia from pre-Islamic and Crusader sites and suggested that every Mamluk building has a recycled piece from an older site.15 She also considered the motives behind using second-hand material, whether for a practical use or to seek magical properties. Lately, Doris Behrens-Abouseif engaged with this same context and argued beyond their purpose as quarry for building material. She explored the talismanic use of fragmentsfrom Pharaonic times and the exotic touches and

9 See per example Richard Pococke (1973), Carsten Niebuhr (1762) and Description de l’EgypteparlesSavantsdel’ExpéditionFrançaise (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1812). 10 See further references on Daressy, and Porter and Moss. 11 K.A.C. Creswell, Muslim Architecture of Egypt, Ayyubids and Early Bahrites Mamluks, A.D.1171-1326, volumes I-II (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1959), II: pl. 71b. 12 K. A. C. Creswell, EarlyMuslimArchitecture, IkhshidsandFatimids,A.D.939-1171,volumes I-II (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1959), I: p. 85. 13 Max Herz, LamosquéedusultanHassan auCaire (Cairo: Ifao, 1899), p. 24. Creswell and Herz Pasha had different interpretations on the origins of these spolia-s as well as the motive behind its use. 14 Hasan ‘Abd al-Wahab, «al-Āthār al-manqūla wa’l-muntaḥala fī’l-‘imāra’l-islāmiyya», Bulletindel’Institutd’Egypte/Majallatal-Majma‘al-‘ilmīal-Miṣrī38, no. 1 (1955-1956): 243253. 15 Viktoria Meinecke-Berg, «Spolien in der mittelalterlichen Architektur von Kairo», in Ägypten DauerundWandelSymposium, Cairo1981 (Mainz: v. Zabern, 1985), pp. 131-142, and «Die verwendung von spolien in der Mamlukischen Architektur von Kairo», Voträge XX (1980): 530532.

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emotions created with the use of Crusader spolia.16 Furthermore, the recent restoration projects revealed more second-hand pieces mostly hidden and reused in construction. Few have been published and studied, as with al-Ṣāliḥiyya complex, which was extensively examined by Nairy Hampikian. In her conclusion, she mentions the concept of reuse of material and provide details which could have not been observed by the simple visitor. 17 In this paper, I am revisiting the topic of second-hand building material, especially the marble, and the refitting of these older architectural element in the context of the construction site. I also present the despoliation of buildings contemporary to the Mamlūks, as less attention has been given to them. Furthermore, as looting and destructions are still taken place in Historic Cairo18, and monuments are not sufficiently monitored nor maintained, I am providing photographs and descriptions on ancient spolia-s previously identified, in case these vestiges are lost in the future. In addition, other fragments recently uncovered are added. 2. SPOLIATION OF PRE-ISLAMIC MONUMENTS AND SITES It is interesting to note that nineteenth century guidebooks urged their readers to search for trilingual inscription on reused stones in Cairo’s mosques.19 Even today, finding hieroglyphic carving on block stones or a cross on a byzantine column within the monuments of Historic Cairo is very amusing to visitors. Many of these stone blocks, mostly used as threshold, were sold by the house owners once they realized their market value.20 At the beginning of the twentieth century a French Egyptologist, Daressy21, published two reports on Ancient 16 Doris Behrens-Abouseif, «Between Quarry and Magic. The Selective Approach of Spolia in the Islamic Monument of Egypt», in DalmatiaandtheMediterranean.PortableArcheology andthePoeticofInfluence, ed. Alina Payne (Leiden: Brill, 2014), pp. 402-425. 17 The monument was subject to two restoration projects conducted by the German Institute of Archeology in Cairo (DAIK) in collaboration with the Supreme Council of Antiquities (SCA), between 1989 and 1995. For more information see Nairy Hampikian, al-Ṣāliḥiyya Complex Through Time [Abhandlungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Kairo, Islmamische Reihe, Band 9] (Cairo: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 2004). 18 Since 2011, the looting in Cairo’s Islamic monuments have exacerbated. I have accumulated a report on IdentifyinganddocumentingtheftinHistoricCairo,2011-2017. 19 Donald Malcom Reid, Whose Pharaohs? Archeology, Museums, and Egyptian National IdentityfromNapoleontoWorldWarI (University of California Press, 2002) p. 82. 20 Budge, E. A. Wallis, ByNileandTigris:anarrativeofJourneysinEgyptandMesopotamia onbehalfoftheBritishMuseumbetweentheyears1886and1913(London: Murray, 1920), p. 86. 21 Georges Émile Jules Daressy (1864-1938) is an Egyptologist and a member of the French archeological mission in Egypt. He is the author of Atlasarchéologiquedel’Égypte.He held the position of assistant curator at the Egyptian Museum and he supervised the move of the collection from the Bulaq to Giza and then to the current building in Tahrir square. He was part of excavation mission in several parts in Egypt and has published extensively. See http://data.bnf.fr/13005339/ georges_daressy/

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Egyptian stones found in the historic city.22 Only one out of the eleven locations was found in a Mamlūk mosque, today demolished.23 Three decades after, two British Egyptologists, Porter and Moss24, published an inventory on identified re-used blocks from Ancient Egyptian sites found in Cairo.25 From the fiftyfive fragments mentioned, ten can be traced to Mamlūk buildings: three thresholds (madrasa of al-Bulqīnī, madrasa of Sultan Ḥasan and Mosque of Qanī Bāy al-Rammāḥ), two columns (Mosque of al-Turkumānī and Mosque of alGhamrī), one standing niche (Mosque of Baybars al-Jashankīr), two sarcophaguses (Mosque of Sanjar al-Jāwlī and Mosque of al-Ashraf Barsbāy), a stela (Mosque of Shaykhū) and two small obelisks (Mosque of al-Nāṣir Muhammad in the Citadel). Today, none of these pieces are present on site and most of the fragments were removed to museums.26 The most celebrated of these spolia are two black siltstone obelisks, adorning today two corners of the Great court of the British Museum. Both obelisks belong to King Nectanebo II and they once stood in the doorway of the Temple of Thot at Hermopolis Parva.27 A print by Luigi Mayer in his ViewsofEgypt shows a mosque in the Citadel,28 with a very similar fragment carved in hieroglyphic inscriptions and used as a threshold, looking very much like the Nectanebo II obelisks.29 The Mamlūk sources confirm as they 22 Georges Daressy, «Inscriptions hiéroglyphiques trouvées dans le Caire»,Annalesduservice desantiquitésdel’Égypte4 (1903): 101-109 and «Notes sur des pierre antiques du Caire», Annales duservicedesantiquitésdel’Egypte9 (1908): 139-140. 23 The monument is the madrasa of Shaykh Sirāj al-Dīn al-Bulqīnī at Bayn al-Sayarij, which was built in 1389 under the rule of Sultan al-Ẓāhir Barqūq. The stone was used as a threshold and it was a quartzite block with the name of Ramses III. It might have been originally from the temples of Heliopolis. Unfortunately, the Mamlūk mosque was demolished and replaced with a modern structure. 24 Bertha Porter and Rosalind Moss (1890-1990), were working with Francis Griffith, the first Professor of Egyptology at Oxford, who made the idea of this bibliography of Egyptian monuments arranged topographically a reality, by providing financial support and the resources of his private library. For more information see http://www.griffith.ox.ac.uk/topbib.HTML. 25 Bertha Porter and Rosalind Moss, «Monuments and Re-used Blocks Found in the City». The study is included within a larger publication known today as the Scotland Yard of Egyptologists: Bertha Porter and Rosalind Moss, TopographicalBibliography ofAncientEgyptianHieroglyphicTexts,ReliefsandPaintings (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1934), pp. 69-73. 26 Porter and Moss reported where the pieces were removed: the threshold of Mosque of Qānī Bay al-Rammah is at the Louvre, the sacrophagus of the Mosque of Salar al-Jawli is at the British Museum and parts are at the Egyptian Museum. The sarcophagus of al-Ashraf Barsbāy, the stela from the mosque of Amir Shaykhu and the Basalt column of the Mosque of al-Ghamri are at the Egyptian Museum. They do not mention if the threshold from the madrasa of Sultan Hasan and the niche from the mosque of Baybars al-Jashankir were removed. But, both pieces are no longer found in the monuments. 27 King Nectanebo II of Egypt, Thirtieth Dynasty, about 350 BC. Hermopolis is today in Minya. 28 Mayer, Luigi, ViewsinEgypt,Pl. 3. The plate is captioned: Ruins in the Castle of Cairo, near the Joseph’s hall. 29 The obelisks were part of the group of Ancient Egyptian spolia (including the Rosetta stone) confiscated from the French after their surrender to the British and the Treaty of Alexandria in 1801. One of the obelisks was seen in 1737 by the British traveler, Richard Pococke, reused in a

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Figure 1. Obelisk of Nectanabo II, at the Great Court of the British Museum (EA 524)

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Figure 2. Plate 3 in Views in Egypt by Luigi Mayer

report that Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad gave orders to remove large granite columns from temples in upper Egypt and al-Ashmunim (Hermopolis) in Minya to reuse them in his buildings.30 In 1955, the Egyptian archeologist Hasan ‘Abd al-Wahab, published an article on the monumental fragments reused in Islamic architecture. He presented other architectural elements such as marble columns and panels, wooden friezes and beams as well as bronze windows and doors.31 He identified the presence of eleven ancient stones used as thresholds, seven of which are in Mamlūk buildings32. ‘Abd window somewhere in the Citadel. See Richard Pococke, DescriptionoftheEastandSomeother Countries,ObservationsonEgypt (London, 1743), Vol. 1, pp. 33-34. Both were seen in the Citadel by the Danish mathematician Carsten Niebuhr when he visited Cairo in 1762. He also published a plate with the hieroglyphic inscriptions visible on two sides from each obelisk, and mentioned that one was used as a threshold in one of the mosques. See Niebuhr, Carsten, VoyageenArabie, pp. 166-167, Pl. XXXVI. Both fragments were published by the scientists of the French expedition in their Descriptiondel’Egypte.See Descriptiondel’Egypte, Vol 5, Antiquités V, Pl. 21 and pl. 22. For further information on the Nectanabo II obelisks, see Radwa Zaky “ Aḍwā’‘alāal-āthār al-fir‘awniyyaal-manqūlailāal-‘amā’iral-islāmiyyabi-madinatal-Qāhira”, in Dirasātfīathār al-waṭanal-‘arabī16, pp. 420-422. 30 Ibn Taġrī Bardī (d. 1470), Al-Nujūmal-zāhirafīmulūkMiṣrwa-l-Qāhira,volumes I-XVI (Cairo, Dār al-Kutub al-miṣriyya, 1963-1972) IX: 56. 31 Hasan ‘Abd al-Wahab inventory includes the Islamic monuments in Cairo and other Egyptian cities, see Hasan ‘Abd al-Wahab, «al-Aṯār al-manqūla wa-l-muntaḥila fī al-aṯār al-islāmiyya», p. 256. On the same subject see V. Meineke-Berg «Spolien in der mittelalterlichen Architektur von Kairo», pp. 131-142. 32 the khanqāh of Faraj b. Barqūq, the mosque of Mithqāl, the maq‘ad of al-Ghawrī, the mosque of Āl Malik al-Jukandār, the mosque of Khayrbak, the mosque of Aqsunqur al-Nāsirī and the wikāla of Qawṣūn al-Sāqī

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al-Wahab did not publish any photographs, nor did he add details concerning the hieroglyphic inscriptions visible on the stone-blocks. The following are photographs of the remaining mentioned thresholds.33 The first threshold is from the khanqāh of Sultan Faraj b. Barqūq,34 and the inscription might refer to Nectanebo I (380-362 BCE), and can be read as (Kheper-Ka-Ra). The second is from the mosque of Amir Mithqāl,35 the inscriptions are fading but one might suggest the presence of the form of the God Anubis to the left. The third is from the mosque of Amir Khayrbak36 and it shows a cartouche from queen Hatshepsut (Maat-Ka-Ra). Then the threshold of the mosque of Amir Aqsunqur al-Rūmī37 (the blue mosque) which reads (n- ti hs s), and probably means: to glorify it or to favor it. This can be for a goddess, a queen, or maybe a tomb or a temple. The last is with no doubt the most magnificent and is the threshold of the wikāla of Amir Qawṣūn. Today the wikāla is demolished and only the entrance gate survives. It was slightly moved from its former location and is now overlooking the Jamīliyya street but standing in isolation. An old photograph from the Comité’s38 photographic archive shows how the lower part of the gate used to be buried.39 This explains why it was not mentioned in Porter and Moss’s inventory. The granite block dates to the reign of Ramses II and it is considered the most important ancient Egyptian spolia used in Islamic architecture in Cairo. Most likely it is from Heliopolis.40 There are two other thresholds found in key monuments in Cairo which were not included in ‘Abd al-Wahāb’s inventory. The first is in the khanqāh of Sultan Baybars al-Jashankīr (r. 1309-1310) in Jamāliyya street. This stone is interesting as it is probably representing king Ramses II and it might be from Heliopolis.41 The second is the threshold of the mausoleum of Sultan al-Ṣāliḥ Najm 33

I was unable to photograph the threshold of the mosque of Āl Malik al-Jukadār as it was buried under a pile of garbage, and I failed to locate the threshold in the maq‘ad of al-Ghawrī. I would like to thank Daniele Salvoldi and Mahmud Marzouk for helping me with the hieroglyphic inscriptions. 34 Index No. 149. 35 Index No. 45. 36 Index No. 248. 37 Index No. 123. 38 Usually known by its French title, Comitédeconservationdesmonumentsdel’artarabe, and abbreviated to ‘the Comité’. It was established in December 1881 by a khedivial decree as a technical bureau within the Egyptian Ministry of Endowment, to create an inventory for monuments and oversee their restoration and maintenance. 39 Nicholas Warner, The Monuments of Historic Cairo, a Map and Descriptive Catalogue [ARCE Conservation Series] volume I (Cairo, New York: AUC Press, 2005), p. 81. 40 For more information on the provenance of the block, see David Lorand, «A block of Ramesses II reused as a threshold in the wikāla of Qawṣūn», JournalofEgyptianArchaeology 99 (2013): 270-272. 41 Louis Hautecœur and Gaston Wiet, LesmosquéesduCaire (Paris: Librairie Ernest Leroux, 1932), p. 138. Three persons are visible on this stone: the first to the left is the king on his knees giving offerings to the gods. The two others can be the high priest and another can be his crown prince.

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Figure 3. Threshold of the khanqāh of Sultan Faraj ibn Barqūq

Figure 4. Threshold of the mosque of Amir Mithqāl

Figure 5. Threshold of the mosque of Amir Khayrbak

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Figure 6. Threshold of the Mosque of Amir Aqsunqur al-Rūmī or Blue mosque

Figure 7. The threshold of the wikāla of Amir Qawṣūn

al-Dīn (r. 1245-1249), showing a procession of royal or divine figures. The later was mentioned by K.A.C. Creswell but no photograph was published.42 Two other stone blocks were unearthed in 2004 during the restoration project of the madrasa of Umm al-Sultan Sha῾bān in Bāb al-Wazīr.43 The stones were 42 43

K.A.C. Creswell, MuslimArchitectureofEgypt, II p. 101. Index No. 125.

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Figure 8. The framing of the pavement infront of madrasa of Umm al-Sulṭān Sha῾bān

Figure 9. The threshold of the khanqah of Sultan Baybars al-Jashankir

Figure 10. The threshold of the Mausoleum of Sultan al-Ṣāliḥ Najm al-Dīn

used in the framing of the pavement infront of the drinking-trough of the madrasa, leading to the entrance portal. The stone block show traces of two knees, the first to the left belongs to a king as the trail of his dress is visible.44 44 These stone blocks were documented by the restoration project but never published. For more information on the restoration works see Dina Bakhoum, «The Madrasa of Umm al-Sultan Sha‘ban before and after Creswell», in CreswellPhotographsRe-examined,Newperspectiveon IslamicArchitecture,ed. B. O’Kane (Cairo: AUC Press) pp. 99-119. I would like to thank MarieLys Arnette for identifying the meaning of the drawings found on the stones.

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Figure 11. Red Granite columns at the mosque of Amir Altinbughā al-Māriḍānī

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Figure 12. A red granite column standing in Abusir

It is interesting to note that none have mentioned the lintel of the portal of the khanqāh of Amir Shaykhu (c. 1355) in Ṣalība which is very visible to any passerby. A magnificent granite architrave placed majestically in the entrance portal of the monastery. It contains a line of hieroglyphs and could have once been part of a naos. It is believed that this piece was used for apotropaic purposes, and it is the only example seen in the city.45 Other than thresholds and lintels, another clever installation, visible to the eyes but not easily identified, is the red granite framing refitted on both sides of the monumental entrance portal of the funerary mosque of Sultan al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh (r. 1412-1421).46 It is the only surviving example in Cairo today. In addition, marble and granite columns were widely recycles, coming mostly from churches but also from ancient Egyptian sites. This has been the case long before the Mamlūk sultanate. Columns have been largely identified and studied previously.47 Some are kept with their capitals like the ones used to hold the dome 45 It is first mentioned by Viktoria Meinecke-Berg, «Die verwendung von spolien in der Mamlukischen Architektur von Kairo», Voträge XX (1980): 530-532, p. 532. And later in Doris Behrens-Abouseif, «Between Quarry and Magic. The Selective Approach of Spolia in Islamic Monuments of Egypt» in DalmatiaandtheMediterranean.PortableArcheologyandthePoetic ofInfluence, ed. Alina Payne (Leiden: Brill, 2014), pp. 402-425, p. 409. 46 Viktoria Meinecke-Berg, «Spolien in der mittelalterlichen Architektur von Kairo», p. 135. 47 See Marianne Barrucand, «Les chapiteaux de remploi de la mosquée al-Azhar et l’émergence d’un type de chapiteaux medieval en Egypte», in AnnalesIslamologiques36 (2002): 37-75.

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Figure 13. Red granite columns at the sanctuary of the funerary complex of Sultan al-Ẓāhir Barqūq ©Tariq al-Murry

in the sanctuary of the mosque of Altinbughā al-Maridānī (c. 1339-40). Others lost their capitals, like the ones holding the wooden ceiling of the sanctuary of the madrasa of Sultan al-Ẓāhir Barqūq (built in 1384-6). These columns have the same characteristic in material, shape and size. They are also very similar to the ones still standing today in the site of the temples of Abusir in Giza. 3. RECYCLING MATERIAL FROM CONTEMPORARY BUILDINGS The very first building despoiled under the Bahri sultans was the citadel of their own Ayyūbid master: sultan al-Ṣāliḥ, located on al-Rawḍā island. Despite its eloquent architecture, it was not spared from destruction and the Mamlūk sultans did not hesitate to demolish it to recuperate its building material.48 The citadel itself was built with reused material. Al-Ṣāliḥ brought marble and granite columns from ancient sites,49 and he demolished residential and religious And Viktoria Meinecke-Berg, «Spolien in der mittelalterlichen Architektur von Kairo», in Ägypten DauerundWandelSymposium, Cairo1981 (Mainz: v. Zabern, 1985), pp. 131-142. Also see Doris Behrens-Abouseif, «Between Quarry and Magic», pp. 402-425. 48 Maqrīzī (d.1442), al-Mawā‘izwa-l-i‘tibarfīḏikral-khiṭaṭwa-l-aṯār, volumes I-II (Cairo, Būlāq, 1853), II: 183. 49 Idem.

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structures, including al-Hawdaj, a Fatimid citadel build by al-Hakim on the island, to provide space and material for his new citadel.50 After transferring the seat of power from al-Ṣālih’s citadel to Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn’s on the Muqattam hills, Sultan Aybak ordered the demolition of his old master’s citadel. The building material retrieved was reused in the construction of his madrasa in Fustat.51 A good quantity of wood and marble remained and was put on sale in the local market.52 Later, Amir Sanjar al-Shujā῾ī and Qadi Fatḥ al-Dīn acquired bricks, roofs and windows for the construction of their residential palaces.53 An attempt was made by Sultan al-Ẓāhir Baybars (r. 1260-1277) to repair the damage made to al-Ṣāliḥ’s citadel with the intention to lodge his amirs. Though, he later gave up and went back to occupy the Citadel of Ṣalāh al-Dīn.54 The last traces of al-Ṣālih’s citadel were eliminated by sultan al-Manṣūr Qalāwun (r. 1279-1290) and his son al-Nāṣir Muḥammad (r. 1st 1293 –1294, 2nd 1299-1309, 3rd 13101341). The father used the columns, thresholds and marble in his funerary complex in Bayn al-Qaṣrayn. The son used the remaining columns in the īwān he built at the Citadel and in his first religious foundation built to the North of Fustat, al-Jāmi῾al-Nāṣirīal-Jadīd.55 Constructions made by one group of Mamlūk disappeared entirely and became quarries for the buildings of another group. Though, rarely did the Mamlūk spoil a Muslim Foundation.56 Cairo’s medieval architectural heritage lost a Bahri Mamlūkmadrasa to this practice. The madrase belonged to a very unlucky sultan, assassinated at a young age. Sultan Al Ashraf Sha‘bān (r. 1363-1377) was only ten when he ascended to the throne. Twelve years after, he launched the project of his future madrasa. He placed it next to the Citadel and in front of the madrasa of Sultan Ḥasan (r. 1st 1347-1351, 2nd 1354-1361); his uncle.57 Maqrizi calls it al-madrasaal-kubrā and adds that the īwān surpassed in height the one of Sultan Ḥasan.58 Ibn Taghrī Birdī states that the architecture of Sha῾bān’s madrasa was at the same level as his uncle’s, which implies that it was as monumental and lavishly decorated.59 During the construction, a huge 50

Idem. Ibn Duqmāq (d.1406), Kitāb al-intiṣār li wāsiṭaṭ ‘aqd al-amṣār, ed. K. Vollers (Cairo: Imprimerie Nationale, 1893-96), IV: 97; Maqrīzī al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 183. 52 Idem. 53 Ibn Duqmaq, Kitabal-intiṣār, IV: 97. 54 Nasser Rabbat, TheCitadelofCairo, AnewinterpretationofRoyalMamlukArchitecture (Leiden: Brill, 1995), p. 102. 55 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 184. 56 This was pointed out to me by Prof. Doris Behrens-Abouseif, who will be discussing the topic in her forthcoming paper. 57 Sultan Ḥasan is the paternal uncle of Sultan al-Ashraf Sha’bān. 58 Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-sūlūk fī ma‘rifat dawlit al-mulūk, ed(s). Muḥammad Muṣtafā, Ziyāda Sa‘īd al-Fatāḥ Ašūr, volumes I-IV (Cairo: Dār al-Kutub, 1934-1958, 1970-1973), III: 251. 59 Ibn Taġrī Bardī, Nujūm, XIII: 123. 51

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fire took place causing tremendous damage.60 Two months later, Sha‘bān was assassinated and then buried in the funerary madrasa of his mother, Khawand Baraka in al-Tabbāna street in Bāb al-Wazīr.61 His madrasa was never completed and for many years, the ruins were used as quarries for new construction sites. Its disappearance accelerated under the reign of al-Nāṣir Faraj (r. 1st 1399-1405, 2nd 1405-1412). The remains of the madrasa were demolished in 1400. The building material retrieved must have been stored on site for future use, as we know that in 1415, a minaret was built in al-Azhar mosque with reused stones from the madrasa.62 Jamāl al-Dīn al-Ustadār, Faraj’s ruthless tax-collector, removed the marble panels from Sha‘bān madrasa to reuse in the Duhaysha he built for the sultan in front of Bāb Zuwayla. He also purchased, at a very low cost, bronze windows and doors inlaid with silver and gold to reuse in his own madrasa. Maqrīzī highlights the fine craftsmanship of these architectural elements and specifies that the price was a steal as it was at least ten times less than the actual value.63 Later, Faraj dismantled Sha῾bān’s madrasa entirely and used the stones in the construction of his funerary khānqāh in the Northern Cemetery.64 The remaining stones were left for the public use. It seems that the entrance portal was the only structure standing on site.65 After Faraj’s assassination, the site of the madrasa was acquired by his successor, al-Mu᾿ayyad Shaykh, to erect his bīmāristān. Mu’ayyad Shaykh picked this strategic location, seventeen months before the inauguration of his funerary mosque with its two imposing minarets on Bāb Zuwayla and opposite to Faraj’s Duhaysha, to fulfill his grand desires in dominating Cairo’s skyline with monuments bearing his name.66 It is most likely that the bīmāristānwas constructed over the old foundations of the madrasaas the orientation of the central hall is following the direction of the qibla.67 Maqrīzī mentions that the bīmāristān’s entranceis in the same location where once stood the madrasa’s entrance.68 It is possible that the old portal of the madrasa was reintroduced and refitted within the new structure of the bīmāristān. Al-Jawharī reports that the part next to the entrance is surviving from the madrasa.69 Today, the bīmāristān is partially demolished and it was perhaps one of Cairo’s most attractive medieval 60

Maqrīzī, Sulūk, III: 271. Maqrīzī, Sulūk, III: 282. 62 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 276. 63 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 401. 64 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 408. 65 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 408. 66 See Nairy Hampikian, «Mu’ayyad Shaykh and the landscape of power», AnnalesIslamologiques 49 (2012): 195-214. 67 Doris Behrens-Abouseif, CairooftheMamluks, p. 245. 68 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 408. 69 Doris Behrens-Abouseif, CairooftheMamluks, p. 245. 61

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ruin.70 The impressive structures surviving from the bīmāristāngive an idea on the monumentality of the lost Bahri madrasa, recycled and converted into Circassian foundations. The references given in the sources, make it possible to trace some architectural and decorative element to their original locations. For instance, the marble panels decorating the walls of Faraj’s Duhaysha are probably originally from the madrasa of Sultan Sha‘bān as mentioned above. Or else, the entrance bronze door of the madrasa of the Qadi Abū Bakr Ibn Muzhir (d. 1488) was initially the entrance door of the house of Amir Aqūsh al-Rūmī’s.71 For the construction of his madrasa(c. 1479-1480), the qadi purchased the residence of Amir Aqūsh al-Rūmī located in Ḥārat Barjuwān, to demolish it and reuse its land for his new construction. Naturally he recycled the building material and architectural fragments into his construction site. Another bronze door, part of the collection of the Museum of Islamic Art in Cairo, was found in the mosque of sultan alAshraf Barsbāy (r. 1422-1438) built in the Khanga in 1437. The door previously commissioned to the palace of one of Qalāwūn’s amirs: Shams al-Dīn Sunqur al-Manṣūrī as per the surviving inscription band.72 The door is a fine example of intricate geometric patterns interlaced with animal figurative decoration. Another well-known reused architectural element from a contemporary Mamlūk structure, is the bronze door of the madrasaof Sultan Ḥasan, purchased by al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh when the madrasa was closed, and refitted in his funerary mosque.73 The bronze door was still inscribed with Sultan Ḥasan’s name before it was looted twice, in the late nineteenth century then in the late twentieth century.74 It seems that both Mu’ayyad Shaykh and Barsbāy were more interested in acquiring pieces with high-level of craftsmanship, then altering it with their names. Perhaps, it was also a sign of prestige and power, to embellish their Circassian foundations with Bahri Mamlūk pieces. Restoration projects uncovered interesting use of recycled material, but in this case, hidden to the single eye. Wooden beams carved with figurative scenes, clearly from a secular context, and dating from the eleventh century, were found 70

Since 2010, the restoration project of the bīmāristān conducted by the Ministry of Culture (today the Ministry of Antiquities) was put on hold. The work resumed in 2017 and the monument was reopened to the public in 2018. 71 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 54. 72 Hasan ‘Abd al-Wahāb, «al-Aṯāral-manqūla», p. 267. 73 Ibn Iyās (d. 1524), Badā’i‘al-zuhūrfīwaqā’i‘al-duhūr. ed. Muḥammad Muṣtafa [Bibliotheca Islamica, volume II] volumes I-V (Cairo: Frank Steiner, 1961). p. 20. 74 The inscription band with Sultan Ḥasan’s name is visible in a photograph taken by Bonfils probably around the 1880’s. In another photograph by Béchard, taken around the same time, the left side of the inscription with the sultan’s name is missing. It reappears again on a photo taken by K.A.C. Creswell in the 1920’s, suggesting a possible restoration by the Comité. The inscription is also mentioned by Hasan Abdel Wahab in the 1950’s. Later, in the 1980’s the left side went missing. The entire inscription band is today lost since in 2012, when the right side of the band was looted.

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Figure 14. Mihrab of the Duhaysha of Sultan Faraj b. Barqūq, built by his ustadar Jamāl al-Dīn

Figure 15. Bronze door of the madrasa of Figure 16. Bronze door of Sultan Ḥasan in qadi Abū Bakr b. Muzhir the funerary mosque of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh

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Figure 17. The bronze door of Amir Shams al-Manṣūrī in the Museum of Islamic Art in Cairo. Museum no. 2389-2076

in four monuments in Baynal-Qaṣrayn. Theses beams, were undoubtedly made for the Fatimid palaces. They were later reused in roofs and their decoration was concealed. During the restoration works of the Comité in the 1930’s, some of these beams were found in the ceilings of the palace of Amir Bashtak (c. 1335-39), the funerary complex of Sultan al-Manṣūr Qalāwūn (c. 1285), his bīmāristān75 and the complex of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad (c. 1304). 76 They were subsequently relocated to the Museum of Islamic Art in Cairo and some are now exhibited in the galleries.77 Thirteen other similar Fatimid panels, were discovered at the entrance ceiling of the madrasa in al-Ṣāliḥiyya complex during 75

One of the panels found in the bīmāristān is now in the Musée du Louvre, Inv. No. 4062. See Elise Anglade, Cataloguedesboiseriesdelasectionislamique—MuséeduLouvre(Paris, Réunion des musées nationaux, 1988), fig. 32. 76 See the Comité’s 669th technical report on the 11th of February 1933, p. 260. Also see Bernard O’Kane, TheTreasuresofIslamicArt(Cairo: AUC Press, 2006), p. 65. 77 Hasan ‘Abd al-Wahāb, «al-Athār al-manqūla», p. 246.

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Figure 18. Wooden panel of sycamore wood reused in the mausoleum of Shajar al-Durr

Figure 19. Wooden panels of sycamore with figurative decoration dating back to the eleventh century, today at the Museum of Islamic Art in Cairo78

its restoration.79 The wooden panels were reused as ordinary planks and the decorated sides were turned and painted over to form the new ceiling under the minaret.80 These fragments were too sent to the Museum.81 Furthermore, panels were found in a fifth monument, this time not in Bayn al-Qaṣrayn, but on its 78 See Edmond Pauty, CataloguegénéraldumuséearabeduCaire,lesboissculptésjusqu’à l’époqueayyoubide, Pl. LI/Détails 3, n°3472, p. 50. 79 Nairy Hampikian, al-ṢāliḥiyyaComplexThroughTime, p. 153. 80 Nairy Hampikian, al-ṢāliḥiyyaComplexThroughTime, p. 125. 81 Idem.

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extension south. During the recent restoration project of the mausoleum of Shajar al-Durr (c. 1250) more panels were uncovered. It is most likely that these panels, also came from the Fāṭimid palaces, since the mausoleum was built during the period of their destructions and holds already similar panels. In addition, the resemblances with the sycamore panels at the Museum of Islamic Art is very striking.82 These Fatimid woodworks are considered a remarkable example of illustrated scenes on wood.83 They have been reused in five different monuments, built in the span of more than eighty years. 4. THE PROCUREMENT OF MARBLE,

A

RARE MATERIAL HIGLY IN DEMAND

Marble is a precious and valuable building material. It was widely found in Egypt’s medieval architecture as columns and panels. Yet, marble is scares in Egypt and mostly imported. Polychrome marble is required to add richness and wealth to interiors: to embellish a prayer niche, to garnish walls and to decorate floors. In the thirteenth century marble was mainly imported from Syria.84 Later, and during the reign of Sultan al-Zahir Barqūq (r. 1382-1389), the purchase of marble shifted to Genoa and Venice.85 Apart from imported marble, the local market provided pieces to be recycled from older buildings and sites. The marble occupies an important position and its procurement is often stated. Mamlūk sources mention many incidents related to construction sites and the procurement of building materials. In my opinion, it is the most mentioned building material in the sources. When Baybars al-Jashankīr, still a high-ranking amir and not yet a sultan, initiated the construction on his khanqāhin Jamaliyya quarter in 1306, the Amir Silāḥ Nāṣir al-Dīn son of Amir Biktāsh al-Fakhrī approached him, and revealed a secret location where marble can be found.86 An underground cave was discovered under Amir Bikṭāsh’s palace containing many marble panels of very high quality, probably stored from the time of the Fatimids, which the amir was happy to give to the Jashankir. Some of the marble was reused in the khanqāh, the mausoleum and the residence of the Mamlūk amir, who was extremely pleased.87 The rest was possibly stored in the khanqāh.88 So, providing 82

Based on my observation with Dr. May al-Ibrashi, director of the restoration project, when I visited the site in the summer of 2015. 83 Anna Contadini, FatimidArtintheVictoriaandAlbertMuseum(London: V&A Publications, 1998), p. 112. 84 Michael Rogers, «The Stones of Barqūq, Building materials and architectural decoration in late fourteenth century Cairo», Appollo 4 (1976): 307-313, p. 308. Maqrīzī mentions that the marble of the mosque of Ulmās al-Hājib was brought from Syria, but also from sea islands (I am assuming the Mediterranean) and from Italy. Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 307. 85 Idem. 86 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 417. 87 Idem. 88 Idem.

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marble was a nice gesture and a good favor, to become appreciated by a highranking amir. In other incidents, marble was discovered by pure stroke of luck. In 1375, two huge marble columns were uncovered in the remains of the palace of princess Tatar al-Ḥijāziyya, which used to be located on the site of the Fatimid palace: Qaṣr al-Zumurrud89. It was probably an ancient spolia. This discovery coincided with the on-going construction of the madrasa of Sultan al-Ashraf Sha‘bān, who seized the opportunity, and demanded the transportation of the columns to the site of his new religious foundation. Moving such heavy and immense elements, proved to be a very difficult task. An expert in geometry was contacted to find the proper technical means to facilitate the transportation of the two columns, from the heart of the city in Raḥbat Bāb al-‘Īd, to the site of the madrasa overlooking Midān al-Rimāya next to the Citadel (almost three kilometers). The population gathered for several days to witness this exceptional event. Later, Cairenes composed songs to describe the operation. In addition, a textile fabric from Alexandria was named jarr al-῾amūd or “pulling of the column”, after this incident.90 Today, the madrasahas disappeared as explained above, and the sources no more mention the two columns. Perhaps they were left on site, hidden under the debris of the madrasa. In these two fortunate events, the marble discovered was not wasted and it was immediately reemployed in new constructions. Though, Mamlūk builders’ luck was not always as fortunate. To acquire marble, very often unjust despoliations and confiscations took place. Ancient buildings and archeological sites have always been a good source for procurement. But, there was always the problem of time and transportation. This led to confiscating marble from structures within the city. The Mamlūk historians underline how marble, in the form of tiles, columns and panels, was ripped off from walls and floors of private houses to be reemployed in the new buildings of Mamlūk sultans and amirs. When the palace of Amir Qawṣūn, one of the most powerful amirs of Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad, was attacked and looted, Maqrīzī stated how the palace was reduced to ruin, and how it’s ceilings, marble and doors were looted91. The historian also reports that when the Amir Ulmās al-Ḥājib (d.1333) was executed, all the marble, of outstanding quality, used in his house was taken out.92 The fact that the historian specifically mentions marble and single it out from all other building material, shows its great value and importance. It also proves how it was highly on demand. Ibn Iyās recalls how the construction of the funerary mosque of Sultan alMu’ayyad Shaykh (c.1415-1420) ruined numerous residential units for the sole 89 90 91 92

Maqrīzī, Maqrīzī, Maqrīzī, Maqrīzī,

al-Sulūk, III: 251. al-Sulūk, III: 252. al-Sulūk, II: 592. al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 307.

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Figure 20. The wall of the sanctuary with the rich marble ornamentation

purpose of acquiring its marble. The historian describes how the sultan himself went down with the murakhimīn93in the small alleys of the city, to the houses of civil workers and state officials, to tear off the marble from their reception halls without their approval nor contentment.94 Ibn Iyās criticized severely the act of the sultan and used strong words such as kabasa (press) or yahjum(attack), to describe the scene95. Maqrīzī, who served in the sultan’s court96 and often criticized him97, surprisingly uses a soft verb ṭalaba(order).98 He reports, indifferently, that when marble columns and panels were ‘ordered’ they were taken 93 94 95 96 97 98

Craftsmen specialized in the work of marble. Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘,II: 20. Idem. Nasser Rabbat, «Who was al-Maqrīzī», MSR7/2 (2003): 1-19, p. 15. Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘,II: 62. Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 329.

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Figure 21. The Marble Cenotaph of Sultan al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh

from houses and mosques, without adding further comments.99 Religious foundations were not spared. The two columns of the mihrāb were originally brought from the mosque of Amir Qawṣūn,100 and some thresholds and other marble panels were taken from mosques in Fusṭāṭ.101 Even the sultan’s own cenotaph is made of a reused piece, decorated with foliated ornamentation and Kufic inscription. Its original location is not specified. However, the type of decoration and style suggest it to be Fatimid.102 Perhaps it was taken from an earlier mausoleum in the Southern Cemetery.103 These marble panels and columns, confiscated from older structures, served their purpose well as they have greatly contributed to the fine quality of the mosque’s ornamentation, making it one of the most lavishly decorated of its time.104 Marble confiscations also reached high dignitaries, working for the Mamlūk court. Under Sultan Qanṣūh al-Ghawrī (r. 1501-1516), orders were given to dismantle the marble from private residencies for its reemployment in the decoration of al-Baysariyya and al-Duhaysha, two reception halls he built at the Citadel.105 99

Idem. Hasan ‘Abd al-Wahab, «al-Athāral-manqūla», p. 252. 101 Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘,II: 20. 102 Based on a conversation during a site visit with Professor Tarek Swelim, an expert on Islamic art and architecture, who is currently preparing a publication on the mosque of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh. 103 Also see Bernard O’kane, TheMosquesofEgypt(Cairo: AUC Press, 2016), p. 165. 104 Doris Behrens-Abouseif, CairooftheMamluks, p. 244. 105 Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘,IV: 91. 100

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This time, two high-ranking bureaucrats, the kātibal-sirr 106Abū Bakr Muzhir and the nāẓiral-jaysh107 Shihāb al-Dīn Aḥmad, were affected. Holders of such titles were known for their power and extreme wealth. They had the privilege of being in direct contact with the sultan. But their high positions did not exempt them from confiscations once they fell out of favor. Muzhir’s marble was taken from his reception halls, which once stood near his mosque in Harat Barjwān.108 The qadi will later die in the sultan’s prisons due to these confiscations.109 Shihāb alDīn was given the instructions from the sultan to pull off the marble panels from his father’s qā’a known by Niṣfal-Dunia.110Ibn Iyās mentions that the marble was of great quality and describes this operation as being the ugliest of acts.111 In addition, poetry was composed stating how the sultan has ruined Niṣfal-Dunia, famous for its splendor.112 Ironically, after al-Ghawrī’s defeat and the Ottoman’s conquest of Egypt in 1517, his monuments were stripped too from their marble. Sultan Selim I (r. 15121520) removed all the marble found in the reception halls of al-Baysariyya, alBaḥr, al-Duhayshā and the grand Īwānat the Citadel.113 Furthermore, he ordered a group of craftsmen to dismantle the marble from Cairo’s buildings, and from Bulāq’s.114 This time, Shihāb al-Dīn Aḥmad’s own reception hall overlooking Birkat al-Raṭli was subject to despoliation, along with palaces of Mamlūk amirs, and houses of traders, civil servants and awlād al-Nās.115 All this marble was shipped to Istanbul.116 After his victory, Selim I wanted to build in the capital of his empire, a religious foundation to compete and surpass al-Ghawrī’s madrasa117. Building materials are not the only thing Cairo will lose to the Ottomans. Confiscations will reach Cairo’s known and treasured written heritage. Rare manuscripts and important books will also be shipped along with the marble to Istanbul. In some cases, a single marble piece was reused more than once. After the arrest of ‘Alam am-Dīn ῾Abdallah b. Zanbūr, his treasury was confiscated.118 His 106 Kātibal-sirr is the royal confidential scribe. He is one of the high ranking civil administrators who headed the Chancery Bureau. See al-Qalqašandī, (d.1418), Ṣubḥ al-a‘shā fī ṣinā‘at al-inshā., volumes I-XIV (Cairo: Dār al-kutub al-Miṣriyya, 1922), I: 137. 107 Nāẓiral-Jayshis the supervisor of the army bureau and its financial expenses. This was one of the positions of the Men of the Turban in the Mamluk state. See al-Qalqašandī, Ṣubḥal-a‘šā, V: 465. 108 Hārat Barjwān is a street in Jamalliyya quarter, opposite the street of al-Darb al-Asfar. 109 Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘,IV: 80, 91. 110 Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘,IV: 68. 111 Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘, IV: 91. 112 Idem. 113 Michael Meinecke, «Mamlukische Marmodekorationen in der osmanischen Türkei», MDIK 27.2 (1971), 207. 114 Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘, II: 179. 115 Awlādal-Nās is an expression used to designate the sons of Mamlūks. 116 Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘, II: 179. 117 Idem. 118 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ,II: 405.

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Figure 22. The sanctuary of the madrasa of Amir Ṣarghitmish, showing the location of three different reused marble panels

monetary assets were taken, and many objects of value were seized, along with all the marble he possessed in his house.119 Amir Ṣarghitmish (d. 1358), one of the amirs who enjoyed supreme authority during the reign of Sultan Ḥasan, acquired the marble to reuse in the decoration of his madrasa in Ṣalība (c. 1356)120 and his house in Bi’r al-Waṭāwīṭ.121 Six decades after, some marble panels were pulled out from the madrasaand reused in the decoration of the miḥrāb wall of the mosque of Amir Qanībāy al-Muḥammadī (c. 1413)122 overlooking the same street. Other wall panels were reused as pavement in the mosque, and lost gradually their engraving and carving.123 One of these panels, originally from Dār b. Zanbūr, was dismantled from Ṣarghitmish’s and reused in Qanībāy’s. It was later removed and is now placed in the garden of the Museum of Islamic Art in Cairo. Three marble panels, beautifully engraved, are still adorning the wall of the miḥrāb in the Madrasa of Amir Ṣarghitmish. At least one can be originally traced to Dār b. Zanbūr, but suggesting to be of late Fatimid or Ayyubid carvings.124 The style of the decoration on the other two is different and not of the same quality. One is a marble medallion composed with acanthus leaves set in a larger marble square. The other has a central carving and an engraving with the amir’s name, but the inscription can be a later addition. 119 120 121 122 123 124

Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk, II: 918. Index No. 218. Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 74. Index No. 151. Hasan ‘Abd al-Wahab, “al-athāral-manqūla”, p. 253. Bernard O’Kane, TheMosquesofEgypt(Cairo: AUC Press, 2016), p. 120.

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Figure 23. Marble panel from Dār ibn al-Zanbūr, in the sanctuaryof the madrasa of Amir Sarghitmish

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Figure 24. Marble panel from Dār Ibn al-Zabūr, in the garden of the Museum of Islamic Art in Cairo

Another building practice discovered during the restoration project of al-Ṣaliḥiyya complex shows practical solutions adopted by Mamluk builder to overcome the difficulty of procuring enough marble for their construction site. When the marble floor of the mausoleum of al-Sāliḥ was dismantled it revealed that the majority of the floor tiles are originally columns split into two or three parts then cut to the dimensions of the flooring tiles.125 5. A DESTRUCTION FOR

THE

PROFIT

OF A

RECONSTRUCTION

A building can be ruined with time, especially when its surrounding becomes vacant and depopulated. Yet, it is important to underline that a state of ruin was not always naturally reached. Some buildings, even mosques, were ruined and 125

Nairy Hampikian, Al-ṢāliḥiyyaComplexThroughtime, p. 193.

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not restored deliberately for the reuse of their, much anticipated, construction material. Many pre-Islamic buildings, mostly Coptic, were subject to a deliberate ruin, with a law prohibiting restoration.126 Unfinished buildings were threatened as they were considered precious quarries. This was the main reason why the founders were keen to speed up the construction, while still in office. It was essential to guarantee the prosperity of the building, as well as the security of the founder’s family and descendants. The waqf deed were established, and a Friday prayer was held, usually before the end of the construction works. Furthermore, a building dies when its waqf is disrupted.127 Many dilapidated buildings were the result of the loss of waqf. With no revenues to pay for maintenance and restoration, life escapes it and the building is left to die. Occasionally, buildings were not abandoned, looted, confiscated or ruined, but they were still demolished. Usually, this took place to clear enough land for a new construction. But in many other cases, destructions took place on abundant structures as well as ruins as they provided building material which can be reused, or sold for profit. Maqrīzī brings the case of the Mosque of Ibn al-Maghrabī, which used to overlook al- Khalīj al-Nāṣirī. Its debris were sold like many others (kamābī῾atanqāḍghayrihi).128 It seems that it was a common practice to demolish structures, to sell and reuse their debris. The value of debris, was certainly much less than the actual cost of preparing new material. When the Midānof Siryāqūs went out of use under the reign of Sultan al-Zāhir Barqūq, the royal palaces and houses located in the vicinity of the khanqāh of Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad were sold, to be demolished for their wood and windows.129 The price paid was insignificant; only 100 dinars.130 Maqrīzī’s disapproval on such destructions is felt beneath the lines.131 The historian might have wished for these buildings to be spared, as they form part of the city’s collective memory. But how can a vulnerable structure stop ambitious promoters, eager to transform it into a profitable use? Under such economic pressures, these buildings failed to survive.132 126

Louis Hautecœur and Gaston Wiet, LesmosquéesduCaire, p. 136. For the subject of the ruin in Cairo and its surrounding during the Mamlūk period and the degradation of the urban fabric of the city at the beginning of the fifteenth century, see Julien Loiseau, ReconstruirelamaisonduSultan1350-1450,Ruineetrecompositiondel’ordreurbain duCaire [Etudes Urbaines 8/2] volumes I-II (Cairo: Ifao, 2010). 128 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 328. 129 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 200. 130 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 200, 328. The construction of the funerary mosque of Sultan al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh costed more than 40,000 dinars. The construction site is contemporary to the demolition of the palaces, which gives an idea on how the price paid for the palaces was significantly low. 131 Nasser Rabbat, «Al-Maqrīzī’s Khitat, an Egyptian Lieu de Mémoire», in TheCairoHeritage,EssaysinHonorofLailaAliIbrahim,ed. D. Behrens-Abouseif (Cairo: AUC Press, 200), pp. 17-30, esp. 23. 132 Such challenges are still facing the medieval city today, see Galila El-Kady and Omniya Abdel Barr, “Patrimoine hors guerre en Egypte, du vide sécuritaire au vide patrimonial”, to be published in the proceedings of the conference Heritage at war in the Mediterranean region, 2017, Beirut. 127

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As speed on Mamlūk construction sites was a constraint, such demolitions provided an efficient and quick way to secure building material. Therefore, some buildings were bought, then demolished, for this specific reason. To provide building material for the construction of his khanqah, Baybars al-Jashankīr purchased three houses; one in Fustāṭ (Dār al-Afram) and two in al-Qāhira (Dār al-Wazīr al-Fā’irī and Dār al-Anmāḍ). All houses were demolished and their architectural elements and building materials were recycled in the construction of his khanqāh.133 Another house, Dār al-Zarrāq134, probably built in the 1340’s, and known to be a fabulous structure, disappeared for the same reason.135 The house survived for seven decades, but was subsequently demolished in 1415, after outliving for over a decade its ruinous surroundings. The main reason for its demolition was to acquire its precious debris (anqāḍihaal-jalīla), which might have been reused in the construction of the funerary mosque of Sultan al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh, since the work started in the construction site in May 1415.136 6. CONCLUSION Today, the heart of Cairo still belongs to the Mamlūks, who succeeded to acquire it from their predecessors, and gradually transform it through series of destructions and reconstructions. The patronage of Mamlūk political and civil classes played an inevitable role in this transformation. To demonstrate their wealth and power, the Mamluk sultans and amirs competed and excelled with ambitious building projects. However, in order to construct or reconstruct, it was essential to demolish and destruct. As a response to the need in building material, it was acceptable to recycle from pre-Islamic sites. Yet, recycling material from contemporary buildings was not highly appreciated. Historians report how a structure can disappear to obliterate the name of its founder from the city, or to erase a certain memory that brings pain and injustices. Most of the reused material came from neighboring sites, in Heliopolis, Memphis and rarely from Tanis in the Delta. In addition, Cairo’s abandoned buildings and unfinished project were looted and despoliated. Transportation must have influenced the choice of the location of the sites. Yet, occasionally imported building material from around the Mediterranean was shipped to Cairo, as with the Crusader spolia transported from Syria. Second-hand building material were generally used for practicality but other different purposes can be suggested for this practice: To 133

Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 416. This is the house of Amir ‘Izz al-Dīn Aydumur al-Zarrāq, one of the amirs of al-Manṣūr Qalāwūn who died in Aleppo during the reigh of al-Nāṣir Ḥasan. See Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 44. 135 See Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 44, 120. 136 Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ, II: 328. 134

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protect the new foundation and incorporate a threshold or a lentil with hieroglyphic inscriptions to recall magical powers of an ancient civilisation. To step over these pagan symbols and strengthen one’s faith, as an act of trampling on idolatry. To evoque a victory and exhibit a fine craftsmanship by installing a trophy of war, like the Gothic portal at the entrance of the funerary madrasa of Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad, previously seized from a church in Acre after the last battle with the Crusaders. To show strength, superiority and wealth, by using high quality and expensive material. In addition, to give a second life to a dying piece, eloquently crafted in past time, by dismantling it from an abandoned building or ruin and reusing it in a new construction, and positioning it in an attractive location to recall the glories of past times. OMNIYA ABDEL BARR

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L’uchronie est une discipline en plein essor qui réexamine le cours des événements en fonction de la modification d’un ou de plusieurs paramètres. C’est ainsi que des études récentes ont tenté de démontrer que la papauté avait les moyens d’organiser lors de la première croisade un transbordement maritime en direction de la Terre sainte. L’ouvrage le plus provocateur reste Le feld-maréchal von Bonaparte, dans lequel Jean Dutourd considère que la République de Gênes aurait pu vendre la Corse aussi bien à l’Autriche qu’à la France en 1768. S’en suit une réécriture de la Révolution française et de la carrière que Bonaparte aurait pu remplir au service des Habsbourg dans les Balkans. La présente communication se veut plus sobre dans son propos et moins iconoclaste. Elle soumettra les projets de croisade développés par Bertrand Du Guesclin au XIVe siècle au spectre de la critique historique. Nombre d’historiens ont en effet relayé sans la moindre nuance les propos du poète Cuvelier à l’égard des velléités antiislamiques de Du Guesclin. Des documents d’archives permettent cependant de cerner les projets développés par le capitaine breton durant les années 1360. On ne saurait apprécier leur degré de pertinence, sans évaluer préalablement le début de carrière de Du Guesclin et son engagement en faveur de la croisade, un demisiècle après la perte d’Acre1. 1. LA JEUNESSE DU «DOGUE NOIR»

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Bertrand Du Guesclin a laissé le souvenir dans l’imaginaire français d’un chef de guerre rusé qui affronta les Anglais durant la Guerre de Cent Ans. Il passe pour être né vers 1320 dans le château de La Motte-Broons, situé à une vingtaine de kilomètres au sud-ouest de Dinan (Côtes-d’Armor). Il appartient à la petite noblesse bretonne et présente dès son plus jeune âge un physique disgracieux qui aurait poussé ses parents à regretter sa naissance. Telle est la version du trouvère Cuvelier qui a composé vers 1385 une chanson dont les différents manuscrits oscillent entre 18 000 et 24 000 vers. Siméon Luce a été le 1 John H. Pryor, «A View From a Masthead: the First Crusade From the Sea», Crusades 7 (2008): 87-152; Bernard S. Bachrach, «Papal War Aims in 1096: The Option Not Chosen», dans InLaudemHierosolymitani.StudiesinCrusadesandMedievalCultureinHonourofBenjamin Z.Kedar, éd. Iris Shagrir, Ronnie Ellenblum et Jonathan Riley-Smith (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), pp. 319-343; Jean Dutourd, Lefeld-maréchalvonBonaparte (Paris: Flammarion, 1996).

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premier à souligner les contradictions émanant des différents manuscrits et la dimension thuriféraire de LachansondeBertrandDu Guesclin. Si l’aversion de ses parents relève probablement du mythe, sa laideur est confirmée par le gisant d’un mètre cinquante de long dont le roi de France, Charles VI, ordonna l’exécution en 1397. Les sculpteurs Thomas Privé et Robert Moisel utilisèrent pour le réaliser un masque mortuaire qui avait été appliqué sur le visage de Du Guesclin en 1380. Cette effigie prête une tête ronde à Du Guesclin et un nez camus que l’on retrouve sur une statue anicienne du XIVe siècle. Cuvelier rapporte que le futur comte de Longueville avait une démarche gauche, la peau foncée et les yeux verts. Le mépris de ses parents l’aurait rendu agressif au point d’imposer son droit d’aînesse à ses frères cadets par la force à l’âge de six ans2. Son goût pour la bataille ne se démentit pas avec le temps au vu des combats qu’il organisa pour les enfants du village de Broons à partir de huit ans. Son père s’y opposa comme il put, allant jusqu’à l’enfermer dans une pièce du château familial afin de lui éviter des blessures inutiles. Le jeune homme échappa à ces mesures coercitives en 1336 pour se réfugier chez l’un de ses oncles, établi à Rennes. L’année suivante, un tournoi organisé dans la cité bretonne lui donne l’occasion de terrasser une quinzaine d’adversaires, avant de s’incliner en finale face à son père... Quoi que cette anecdote soit improbable, elle témoigne de la qualité de l’entraînement de Bertrand au sortir de l’adolescence. Cuvelier prétend d’ailleurs que Bertrand avait vaincu, peu de temps auparavant, un champion de lutte bretonne. La simplicité de ses mœurs explique en tout cas l’aura qu’il exercera sur ses compagnons d’armes au cours des décennies à venir. La jeunesse de Du Guesclin fut remplie d’autres joutes avant le déclenchement en 1341 de la guerre de Succession de Bretagne. La famille Du Guesclin embrasse rapidement le parti de Charles de Blois qui conteste les droits d’un demi-frère du défunt duc Jean III au nom de son épouse Jeanne de Penthièvre. C’est à ce titre que Bertrand dirige des partisans dans la forêt de Brocéliande à partir de 1342, tout en participant à la défense de Rennes, menacé par un corps expéditionnaire anglais. Notre bouillant écuyer signale de la sorte son attachement à la Couronne de France qui a élevé la Bretagne au rang de duché-pairie en 12973. Les débuts de Du Guesclin comme chef de guerre furent modestes à la tête d’une soixantaine de combattants mal équipés. Les Anglais établis en Bretagne 2 Jean-Claude Faucon, LachansondeBertrandduGuesclindeCuvelier (Toulouse, Éditions Universitaires du Sud, 1990), I: 6-9; Siméon Luce, HistoiredeBertrandduGuesclinetdeson époque (Paris: Hachette, 1882 [2e édition]), pp. 1-11; Paul Deschamps, «Le tombeau des entrailles de Du Guesclin à l’église de Saint-Laurent du Puy», Comptesrendusdel’AcadémiedesInscriptionsetBelles-Lettres 88 (1944): 503-504. 3 Faucon, La chanson, I: 9-24; Luce, Histoire de Bertrand, 11-39; Clément VI, Lettres closes, patentes et curiales se rapportant à la France, éd. Eugène Déprez, Jean Glénisson et Guillaume Mollat (Paris: Albert Fontemoing, 1901), I: n° 1636 (bulle d’absolution du 10 avril 1345).

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ne tardent pas cependant à le qualifier de «dogue noir de Brocéliande». Son premier grand succès survient lors de la prise du château du Grand-Fougeray en 1350. Le jeune capitaine s’empare de la forteresse avec une trentaine de compagnons déguisés en bucherons pendant l’absence de son châtelain. Cette ruse est caractéristique du pragmatisme de Du Guesclin qui usera d’un subterfuge analogue pour se rendre maître en 1364 de la ville de Mantes-la-Jolie. Sa situation est, pour l’heure, inconfortable en raison de la captivité en Angleterre de Charles de Blois à la suite d’une défaite subie à La Roche-Derrien. Le duc de Bretagne ne sera élargi qu’en 1356 contre la promesse du versement d’une rançon de 700 000 florins. L’armée française subit, un mois plus tard, l’un de ses revers les plus cuisants à Poitiers où le roi Jean le Bon est capturé avec 2 000 combattants. Le duc de Lancastre conduit dans la foulée un corps expéditionnaire en Armorique. Il soumet la ville de Rennes à un siège de neuf mois qui offre à Du Guesclin la possibilité de s’illustrer. Le capitaine breton harcèle les assiégeants, avant de détourner vers la ville un convoi de vivres. Séduit par ses faits d’armes, le duc de Lancastre essaye de le débaucher, en lui promettant la ceinture de chevalier en cas de ralliement à la cause anglaise. Du Guesclin décline l’offre et profite d’une sortie de la garnison pour incendier un beffroi anglais. Ces exploits lui vaudront d’être adoubé par Charles de Blois durant l’été 1357 et de recevoir la capitainerie de La Roche-Derrien à titre de récompense4. Du Guesclin devient dans les mois qui suivent un officier de la Couronne de France, qui lui sait gré d’avoir protégé le comté de Rennes des velléités du duc de Lancastre. Le dauphin Charles lui accorde une rente viagère de 200 livres tournois, avant de lui confier la capitainerie générale de Pontorson et du MontSaint-Michel. La garnison dont il prend le commandement en décembre 1357 s’élève à soixante hommes d’armes et autant d’archers. Du Guesclin mène avec ces effectifs des opérations de guérilla contre les Anglais implantés dans l’ouest de la France. Dans les années qui suivent, il est capturé à deux reprises par les capitaines Robert Knolles et Hugh Calveley, dont il a sous-estimé la bravoure. Sa seconde rançon s’élève en 1361 à 30 000 écus avancés généreusement par l’abbé Jean de La Roë. Malgré ces revers, Du Guesclin est maintenu à son poste par le dauphin Charles et le duc Philippe d’Orléans, qui en fait son lieutenant dans les territoires compris entre la Seine et la Bretagne. Des compagnies de mercenaires infestent la région depuis la signature du traité de Brétigny entre la France et l’Angleterre en mai 1360. Du Guesclin recrute 400 hommes afin de participer à leur élimination systématique dans le comté d’Alençon, avant de rejoindre Charles de Blois dans le nord de la Bretagne en 1362. Il prend la tête de ses troupes pour enlever une demi-douzaine de places hostiles, comme 4 Faucon, La chanson, I: 24- 52, 83-85; Luce, Histoire de Bertrand, 69-93, 121-204; Jean Lemoine, «Du Guesclin armé chevalier», Bibliothèquedel’EcoledesChartes 56 (1895): 8489.

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Carhaix et Saint-Paul-de-Léon. Dès le printemps 1363, il regagne toutefois la Normandie pour traquer les routiers navarrais qui terrorisent la vallée de la Vire5. L’année 1364 le voit gagner un procès devant le parlement de Paris pour parjure dans les derniers jours de février. À l’occasion des débats, il côtoie le roi de Chypre, Pierre de Lusignan, qui tente d’organiser une croisade en vue de libérer les Lieux saints. Le dauphin Charles lui confie, par la suite, le soin d’éradiquer les compagnies qui pillent le Vexin et perturbent les communications entre Paris et Rouen. Ces mercenaires étrangers agissent pour le compte du roi de Navarre, Charles II, qui complote contre la sécurité du royaume avec l’appui du roi d’Angleterre. Du Guesclin reçoit le commandement d’un millier d’hommes à la fin du mois de mars 1364. Il s’attèle sans tarder au siège de Rolleboise, avant de prendre la route de Mantes-la-Jolie dont il s’empare par ruse le 7 avril. Le château de Rolleboise capitule peu de temps après et le site est rasé afin de n’offrir aucun point d’appui aux routiers. La ville de Meulan-en-Yvelines est prise dans la foulée malgré la résistance prolongée de son donjon. Du Guesclin reçoit le titre de chambellan de France et une gratification de 1 400 francs au moment où la nouvelle de la mort de Jean le Bon parvient à Paris6. Le dauphin enterre son père tandis que débarque à Cherbourg un corps expéditionnaire navarrais, commandé par le captal de Buch, Jean III de Grailly. Ce dernier tente d’empêcher le sacre du dauphin à Reims, en se portant à la rencontre de l’armée de Du Guesclin. Le 13 mai 1364, le capitaine breton met en déroute ses 6 000 hommes avec une troupe deux fois moins nombreuse à Cocherel, près d’Évreux. Si cette victoire facilite le couronnement de Charles V, la chance abandonne durant l’automne 1364 Du Guesclin qui est capturé lors de la bataille d’Auray qui clôt l’épuisante guerre de Succession de Bretagne (13411364). Le roi de France doit reconnaître le triomphe des montfortistes après la mort de Charles de Blois et se trouve contraint de débourser 40 000 florins afin de racheter la liberté de son chambellan. L’année 1365 permet toutefois au monarque d’élaborer un plan habile afin de se débarrasser des compagnies qui menacent la sécurité du royaume à l’issue des hostilités avec la Navarre. Charles V envisage de les engager en Espagne où le roi Pierre IV d’Aragon mène une guerre acharnée depuis 1356 contre son voisin castillan, Pierre le Cruel. Le pape Urbain V consent à participer au financement de l’expédition à hauteur de 100 000 florins en raison de sa dimension antimusulmane7.

5 Faucon, La chanson, I: 71-73; Michael Jones, Letters, Orders and Musters of Bertrand DuGuesclin,1357-1380 (Woodbrige: The Boydell Press, 2004), n° 1-29 pp. 1-9; Luce, Histoire deBertrand, 203-344. 6 Faucon, Lachanson, I: 81-92; Luce, HistoiredeBertrand, 360-387; Richard Vernier, The FlowerofChivalry:BertrandduGuesclinandtheHundredYearsWar (Woodbrige: The Boydell Press, 2003), pp. 64-80. Jean II était mort à Londres, le 8 avril 1364, à l’âge de 44 ans. 7 Faucon, Lachanson, I: 92-164; Luce, HistoiredeBertrand, 389-412; Vernier, TheFlower ofChivalry, 81-92.

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2. L’ESPRIT DE CROISADE DE DU GUESCLIN On pourrait croire que la Guerre de Cent Ans avait éteint l’intérêt que les Français portaient à la reconquête de la Terre sainte, subjuguée par les mamelouks en 1291. Il n’en était rien bien que l’Occident ait basculé après 1302 dans un mythe de croisade qui devait perdurer cinq siècles. Divers acteurs s’ingéniaient à rappeler aux Européens leurs obligations morales à l’égard de la «terre parcourue par les pas du Christ». La papauté accordait des décimes aux princes promettant de secourir l’Orient latin, exposé aux assauts des beylicats turcs d’Anatolie et des mamelouks. La littérature courtoise célébrait les exploits des héros de la première croisade qui avaient surmonté leurs rivalités pour reconquérir «l’héritage du Christ». En outre, des projets de croisade tentaient de révéler les points faibles des mamelouks et les itinéraires à privilégier afin de reprendre Jérusalem sans difficulté. Si le dauphin Humbert de Viennois était parvenu à arracher Smyrne aux Turcs en 1344, l’on attendait un souverain capable d’enflammer les cœurs et de porter la guerre en Orient. L’Europe crut avoir trouvé le candidat idéal au début des années 1360 en la personne du roi de Chypre, Pierre Ier, qui venait d’enlever à l’émirat de Teke la place d’Antalya avec le soutien de l’ordre de l’Hôpital. À l’occasion de sa venue à la Curie, le roi de France, Jean II, prit la croix le vendredi 31 mars 1363 avec le roi de Danemark, Valdemar IV, et le comte Amédée VI de Savoie qui séjournaient en Avignon8. Le roi de France souhaitait honorer le vœu de son père Philippe de Valois et conduire hors de France les compagnies démobilisées après la paix de Brétigny. Sa mort ajourna ces projets, bien que Charles V ait envisagé un temps d’organiser une expédition à travers la Hongrie en 1365. L’affaire capota malgré la promesse de l’empereur Charles IV (1355-1378) de participer au financement de la croisade durant trois ans. Le roi de France songea alors à confier la direction des routiers à Du Guesclin, qu’il avait pourvu du comté de Longueville à la veille de la bataille d’Auray. Restait à trouver un théâtre d’intervention idoine et la somme de 100 000 livres tournois exigée pour la libération du Breton. La chronique de Froissart nous apprend qu’Urbain V régla une partie de la rançon avec le prétendant au trône de Castille, Henri de Trastamare, qui résidait en France. Dès le 8 mai 1365, le pape écrivit au Prince Noir et à Jean de Grailly afin qu’ils accueillissent avec bienveillance le comte de Longueville qui souhaitait engager «contre les perfides Agarènes» les «détestables compagnies» qui avaient ravagé le sol français. Un exemplaire de la lettre fut adressé au connétable d’Aquitaine, John Chandos, qui avait capturé Du Guesclin sur le champ de bataille d’Auray. 8 Alphonse Dupront, Lemythedecroisade (Paris: Gallimard, 1997), volumes I-IV; Charles Samaran, «Projets français de croisade, de Philippe le Bel à Philippe de Valois», dans Histoire littéraire de la France 41 (1981): 34-72; Joseph Delaville le Roulx, La France en Orient au XIVe siècle.ExpéditionsdumaréchalBoucicaut (Paris: Ernest Thorin, 1886), pp. 11-120.

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Aussi élogieux qu’il soit, ce document ne présente nullement le comte de Longueville comme un croisé, mais «un homme puissant et dévoué qui a pris en charge une affaire utile à Dieu, au Saint-Siège et aux hommes de bonne volonté et par là même à l’ensemble du peuple chrétien9». Ce témoignage contredit la chanson de Cuvelier qui prétend que «le preux et courtois Bertrand» s’engagea à prendre la croix après que les rois de France et de Navarre eurent signé une trêve en mars 1365. Le trouvère picard commet plusieurs erreurs factuelles, en plaçant à Vernon la signature de cette paix négociée en Avignon et en évoquant la prise concomitante d’Alexandrie par la marine chypriote. Rien n’est plus faux, car le sac d’Alexandrie survint sept mois plus tard. Pierre de Lusignan n’avait pas regagné ses bases au printemps 1365 en raison des recrutements qu’il opérait en Europe en amont de l’expédition. Les imprécisions de Cuvelier s’expliquent par la rédaction tardive de sa chanson et sa volonté de présenter Du Guesclin comme un croisé idéal. Ce leitmotiv apparaît dès le prologue de la chanson où Du Guesclin est comparé à Alexandre le Grand, au roi Arthur et à Godefroy de Bouillon. Lors de sa révolte à l’âge de six ans, une prophétesse n’hésite pas à annoncer qu’il surpassera en bravoure ses ancêtres et qu’il recevra tant d’honneurs de la Maison de France qu’on parlera de lui jusqu’à Jérusalem... Cuvelier perpétue un modèle ancien qui fait du chevalier idéal un défenseur obligé de la Terre sainte. Une version de la chanson affirme même que Du Guesclin promit lors de son adoubement à Rennes de défendre la chrétienté sans relâche et d’aller un jour défier les «païens outremer». Cette reconstitution est totalement fictive, Cuvelier évoquant dans la foulée les projets de Bertrand à l’encontre de l’Empire mamelouk et des nasrides de Grenade10. Peut-on dès lors parler d’esprit de croisade pour décrire les projets du comte de Longueville à l’orée de l’année 1365? Cuvelier clame qu’il aurait spontanément proposé à Charles V d’amener les grandes compagnies en Orient afin de soutenir l’action de Pierre de Lusignan. La chose n’est pas impossible, car les deux hommes s’étaient rencontrés au début de l’année 1364 et Du Guesclin, malgré son caractère emporté, aimait la religion. Nous savons qu’Urbain V l’avait autorisé à posséder un autel portatif en campagne dès l’été 1363. Ce privilège fut reconduit au mois de décembre 1365, le comte de Longueville obtenant le droit de pouvoir écouter la messe avant le point du jour. Son pointillisme l’amena à 9 Émile Molinier, «Étude sur la vie d’Arnoul d’Audrehem, maréchal de France (130.-1370)», Mémoiresprésentéspardiverssavantsàl’AcadémiedesInscriptionsetBelles-Lettres, deuxième série, 6, part. I (1883): 169-170; Vernier, TheFlowerofChivalry , 86; Maurice Prou, Étudesur lesrelationspolitiquesdupapeUrbain VaveclesroisdeFranceJean IIetCharles V(1362-1370) (Paris: F. Vieweg libraire-éditeur, F. Bouillon et E. Vieweg, successeurs, 1888), n° LIII, p. 128. 10 Faucon, Lachanson, I: 151, 5, 16 et 45; Delaville le Roulx, LaFranceenOrient, 123-129. On notera que le même portrait idéalisé se retrouve dans l’histoire du maréchal d’Angleterre, Guillaume de Pembroke, composée au XIIIe siècle (cf. Georges Duby, GuillaumeleMaréchalou lemeilleurchevalierdumonde [Paris: Fayard, 1984]).

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réclamer la levée de l’excommunication de ses hommes et un indult afin de pouvoir célébrer des offices dans les terres placées sous interdit. Ce privilège découle de la censure ecclésiastique qui frappait les possessions de Pierre le Cruel depuis l’année 1357. Le monarque affichait alors l’image d’un souverain despotique et hérétique qui se maintenait au pouvoir grâce au soutien des populations mudéjares et juives de son royaume. Son demi-frère Henri de Trastamare se plaisait à le présenter comme un renégat entouré d’une garde maure. Aussi n’eut-il aucun mal à convaincre Du Guesclin de la sainteté de la cause que ses soudoyers s’apprêtaient à défendre sur le sol ibérique. Henri promit en outre au capitaine breton son soutien logistique pour conquérir le royaume de Grenade après l’éviction du trône de son demi-frère11. Un esprit critique pourrait objecter que Du Guesclin n’avait pas les effectifs suffisants pour conquérir l’émirat de Grenade, adossé à la Sierra Nevada et la Méditerranée. C’est oublier que Pierre le Cruel avait renversé en 1362 l’émir Muḥammad al-Aḥmar avec quelques centaines de mercenaires occidentaux. Son successeur Muḥammad al-Ghanī redoutait tellement une intervention chrétienne qu’il n’hésita pas à requérir l’aide des mamelouks en 1365 afin de renforcer les frontières du royaume nasride. Ce partenariat échoua et Du Guesclin put promettre aux combattants anglais de son armée le quart des profits réalisés en Espagne. Par un pacte en date du 16 février 1366, il céda à Hugh Calveley la totalité des places mérinides que ce dernier pourrait conquérir sur le littoral andalou, en échange de la possession du royaume de Grenade. Bien que ce projet n’aboutît jamais, Henri de Trastamare proclama Du Guesclin roi de Grenade après la débandade des troupes de Pierre le Cruel. Un simulacre de couronnement eut même lieu à Burgos, le 29 mars 1366, devant les 12 000 compagnons du capitaine breton. Cet honneur n’abusa pas Du Guesclin qui attendait une récompense plus substantielle de la part du nouveau roi de Castille. Henri II lui conféra de bonne grâce le titre de duc de Trastamare avec l’ensemble des apanages qu’il possédait en Castille avant 136012. Ce fut singulièrement la pusillanimité de Pierre le Cruel qui eut raison des projets de Du Guesclin à l’encontre du royaume de Grenade. Henri II ne garda en effet qu’un millier et demi de lances à son service lorsqu’il s’empara de l’Andalousie à l’été 1366. En outre, l’émir de Grenade s’empressa de négocier une trêve qui pût sécuriser ses possessions. Il semble qu’il ait été horrifié par 11 Faucon, Lachanson, I: 136; Urbain V, Lettrescommunes, éd. Marie-Hyacinthe Laurent et Michel Hayez, volumes I-XII (Paris: E. de Boccard, 1954-1989), n° 5 567 et 16 985-16 987; Georges Daumet, Innocent VIetBlanchedeBourbon (Paris: Albert Fontemoing, 1899), pp. 68-69. 12 Kenneth Fowler, «Deux entrepreneurs militaires au XIVe siècle: Bertrand du Guesclin et Sir Hugh Calveley», dans ActesdescongrèsdelaSociétédeshistoriensmédiévistesdel’enseignement supérieur public. 18e congrès, éd. Jean-Claude Hélas (Montpellier, SHMES, 1987), pp. 247, 251 et n° I pp. 254-255; idem, MedievalMercenaries (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2001), I: 329-331; Roland Delachenal, HistoiredeCharles V (Paris: Auguste Picard, 1916), III: 281 et 348.

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les massacres commis par les troupes de Du Guesclin à Borja, Briviesca et Burgos. Le Breton avait eu vent de la prise d’Alexandrie réalisée par Pierre de Lusignan le 10 octobre 1365. Aussi obtint-il du roi d’Aragon en février 1366 la promesse d’armer trois navires au mois de mai 1367 afin d’aller affronter «outre-mer les ennemis de la sainte chrétienté». Pierre le Cérémonieux s’engagea concomitamment à armer vingt galères afin de permettre le transbordement en Orient des hommes d’Hugh Calveley. Les deux escadres avaient vocation à stationner au Levant jusqu’au mois de septembre 1367, si la guerre avec la Castille venait à s’achever rapidement. Une clause prévit de réduire, dans le cas contraire, l’escadre d’Hugh Calveley à une dizaine de galères défrayées durant deux mois par le Trésor royal. Ces conventions montrent que les deux capitaines envisageaient de s’associer aux opérations militaires de Pierre de Lusignan en cas d’impasse dans la péninsule Ibérique. Reste à évaluer la pertinence de leurs projets cautionnés par le roi de France selon une chronique dionysienne contemporaine13. 3. DES PROJETS

DÉMESURÉS CONTRE L’EMPIRE MAMELOUK?

Nicolae Iorga a été le premier à signaler l’intérêt de Du Guesclin pour la Terre sainte dans ses recherches sur la croisade au XIVe siècle. Il est probable que le Breton avait été impressionné par la fougue de Pierre de Lusignan qui avait participé à un tournoi de chevalerie à Paris en 1364. Il est toutefois abusif de prétendre que le vainqueur de Cocherel se serait investi dans «le voyage de Castille et de Grenade» par dépit, en apprenant la signature d’une trêve entre mamelouks et Chypriotes. Non seulement ce traité ne fut signé qu’à l’été 1368, mais le comte de Longueville envisagea un transbordement en Orient après son entrée sur le sol espagnol en 136514. Le Levant représentait un théâtre d’opérations à la hauteur de ses aspirations chevaleresques. Il avait en effet obtenu du pape Urbain V des lettres expectatives pour plusieurs clercs bretons et l’absolution de ses péchés à l’article de la mort. Restait à troquer les croix blanches arborées par ses soudoyers pour des croix rouges susceptibles de lui attirer une gloire éternelle! La chrétienté vibrait aux clameurs de l’Orient latin après que le pape eut incité les princes européens à secourir les îles de Chypre et de Rhodes, menacées par les «Sarrasins et la nation néfaste des Turcs». Le Saint-Siège sollicita l’aide de l’épiscopat en octobre 1366 afin d’exhorter le maximum de 13

Delachenal, Histoire de Charles V, III: 354-356; Fowler, «Deux entrepreneurs militaires au XIVe siècle», 251-252; Henri Moranvillé, ChronographiaregumFrancorum (Paris: Librairie Renouard, H. Laurens, successeur, 1893), II: 384. 14 Nicolae Iorga, PhilippedeMézières,1327-1405,etlacroisadeauXIVesiècle (Paris: Émile Bouillon, 1896), pp. 306-307; Roland Delachenal, ChroniquedesrègnesdeJean IIetCharles V (Paris: Librairie Renouard, H. Laurens, successeur, 1916), II: 4.

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fidèles à rejoindre l’armée de Pierre de Lusignan. Une rumeur prétendit même au début de l’année suivante que la flotte chypriote avait opéré une seconde descente à Alexandrie, le 5 décembre 1366, pour occuper la cité durablement15. C’est dans ce contexte que Du Guesclin convergea vers l’ouest de la Catalogne en janvier 1367 avec les mercenaires qu’il avait sous ses ordres. Il souhaitait obtenir des subsides de la part du roi d’Aragon et préparer son passage en Orient selon les modalités définies l’année précédente. Pierre le Cérémonieux sonna le branle-bas de combat de peur de voir les soudoyers français tenter un coup de main contre la cité de Lérida et l’Aragon. Après d’âpres négociations, les deux hommes parvinrent à trouver un terrain d’entente le 27 février. Le roi s’engagea à verser 40 000 florins d’Aragon à Bertrand Du Guesclin, en échange de l’abandon de ses prétentions financières ainsi que de deux seigneuries du royaume de Valence qui lui avaient été cédées en 1366. Le monarque confirma ses intentions d’armer quatre grandes nefs et deux galères afin de permettre le passage en Orient de Du Guesclin à partir du mois de mai 1367. Le Trésor royal s’acquitterait du nolis de la moitié de l’escadre pendant six mois à condition que les mercenaires français acceptent de faire une halte de quinze jours en Sardaigne. Cette escale devait permettre de soumettre par les armes le juge d’Arborée, Mariano IV, qui rejetait l’autorité des Catalans sur l’île depuis une douzaine d’années. Bien que l’accord ne mentionne aucun effectif précis, nous savons que Du Guesclin disposait d’un millier de lances au début de l’année 1367. Parmi ces combattants figurait son cousin Olivier de Mauny qui partageait ses rêves de grandeur et qui avait amené des renforts de France en juillet 136616. Essayons maintenant de définir le nombre de combattants groupés autour d’une «lance» au XIVe siècle. Bien qu’un spécialiste du mercenariat établisse une adéquation entre le nombre de combattants de l’unité et son chef, il semble que le ratio ait tourné autour de trois combattants à l’époque des compagnies soldées. Chaque cavalier était alors accompagné d’un valet et d’un coutilier armé d’une dague et d’une lance. Ce n’est qu’à partir de 1445 que les compagnies d’ordonnance françaises compteront six combattants par «lance». Il est donc probable que Du Guesclin disposait en 1367 de 3 000 hommes susceptibles de rallier le Levant au passage de la Saint-Jean. Pierre de Lusignan possédait à cette époque près de 8 000 hommes selon le témoignage du poète Guillaume de Machaut. Ce dernier signale toutefois que seuls 700 combattants pouvaient prétendre au rang d’hommes d’armes lors du raid lancé sur Alexandrie en 1365. 15 Leontios Makhairas, Chronique de Chypre, trad. Emmanuel Miller et Constantin Sathas (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1882), p. 95; Urbain V, Lettrescommunes, n° 116, 134, 246, 274, 288, 289, 360, 374, 387, 470-473, 493 et 12 911; idem, Lettressecrètesetcuriales(relativesàlaFrance), éd. Paul Lecacheux et Guillaume Mollat (Paris: E. de Boccard, 1902-1955), n° 2416-2418; Fowler, «Deux entrepreneurs militaires», 251; Delachenal, ChroniquedesrègnesdeJean II, II: 27. 16 Pierre-Vincent Claverie, «Bertrand Du Guesclin et les murailles de Barcelone», Domitia 13 (2014): 115; Fowler, MedievalMercenaries, I: n° 3 pp. 313-315.

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L’apport d’un millier de soudoyers expérimentés aurait donc doublé le potentiel offensif de son corps expéditionnaire au-delà de la contribution fournie par les goujats des différentes compagnies17. Venons-en maintenant à un état des lieux des forces mameloukes à la veille du passage en Orient de Du Guesclin. Une ordonnance, ou rawk, d’al-Nāṣir Muḥammad avait fixé en 1315 les effectifs de l’armée égyptienne à 24 000 hommes, dont 9 000 soldats appartenant à la ḥalqa et 15 000 mamelouks d’origine kiptchak. Le sultan disposait au sein de ces derniers combattants de «mamelouks royaux», dont le chiffre fut porté à 12 000 hommes vers 1340. Il est évident que le sultan al-Ashraf Sha῾bān ne disposait pas d’une pareille garde en 1367 du fait de sa jeunesse. L’armée mamelouke était en outre parcourue de divisions à la suite de l’assassinat de l’émir Yalbughā al-῾Umarī le 12 décembre 136618. Le vice-régent avait pourtant secouru Alexandrie en 1365 et pris des mesures énergiques pour décourager les chrétiens de tenter un nouveau débarquement. Des pierres avaient été coulées dans le port occidental de la cité et un fossé creusé au pied de ses murailles côtières après l’obturation du port de commerce avec une chaîne. De plus, Yalbughā avait pris l’initiative d’installer dans la ville un corps de 200 cavaliers et d’armer une armada de cent navires, qui avait descendu fièrement le Nil le 28 novembre 1366. Son assassinat fut suivi d’une période d’instabilité profonde en Égypte d’où émergea au mois de juin 1367 l’émir Asandamur al-Nāṣirī. Ce dernier parvint à se maintenir au pouvoir quelques mois avec le soutien des 3 000 mamelouks recrutés par Yalbughā durant son hégémonie. Leurs excès poussèrent cependant le sultan al-Ashraf Sha῾bān à organiser une purge où une centaine d’émirs trouvèrent la mort le 14 octobre 136719. Il est clair que Du Guesclin aurait pu tirer profit de cette période d’anarchie pour s’associer aux opérations menées par la flotte chypriote le long du littoral syrien. Pierre de Lusignan songea un temps opérer une nouvelle descente à Alexandrie, en ayant appris que ses ambassadeurs à la cour du Caire étaient 17 Fowler, Medieval Mercenaries, I: 329-331; J. de La Chauvelays, La tactique dans les guerresduMoyenAge (Paris: L. Maretheux, 1893), pp. 154 et 218; Sophie Hardy, ÉditioncritiquedelaPrised’AlexandriedeGuillaumedeMachaut, Thèse en Lettres modernes de l’Université d’Orléans, Orléans, 2011, p. 71. Il convient à ce titre de réduire de moitié les effectifs que nous avons prêtés à Du Guesclin à l’été 1367 dans une étude récente (cf. Claverie, «Bertrand Du Guesclin», 114). 18 David Ayalon, «Studies on the structure of the Mamluk Army-III», dans Muslims,Mongols andCrusaders, éd. Gerald R. Hawting (Abingdon: Routledge, 2005), pp. 110-111 [70-71]; Amalia Levanoni, «The Ḥalqahin the Mamluk Army: Why Was It Not Dissolved When It Reached Its Nadir?», MamlūkStudiesReview 15 (2011): 48 et 52-54. 19 Étienne Combe, «Le texte de Nuwairi sur l’attaque d’Alexandrie par Pierre I de Lusignan», FaroukIUniversity.BulletinoftheFacultyofArts 3 (1946), p. 105; David Ayalon, «Studies on the structure of the Mamluk Army-II», dans Muslims,MongolsandCrusaders, éd. Gerald R. Hawting, p. 79 [459]; Jo Van Steenbergen, «On the Brink of a New Era? Yalbughā al-Khāṣṣakī (d. 1366) and the Yalbughāwīyah», MamlūkStudiesReview 15 (2011): 117-152.

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retenus en captivité. Guillaume de Machaut prétend que les émirs Asandamur al-Nāṣirī et Aqbughā al-Aḥmadī al-Jalab souhaitaient les mettre à mort pour tirer vengeance du sac d’Alexandrie. Al-Ashraf Sha῾bān préféra les laisser regagner Chypre avec des propositions de paix exorbitantes. Pierre de Lusignan en profita pour armer une flotte de cent quarante navires qui prit Tripoli d’assaut, le 29 septembre 1367, pendant l’absence de son walī. Les croisés ne se risquèrent pas toutefois à occuper la place et reprirent la mer pour dévaster les ports de Tortose, Valénie et Lattaquié. La flotte chypriote termina sa course devant L’Ayas, dont Pierre de Lusignan souhaitait entamer le siège avec l’aide du roi Constantin IV d’Arménie. Malgré un débarquement victorieux dans le port, le roi décida de regagner Famagouste le 5 octobre, après avoir constaté l’absence de son allié et l’épuisement de ses troupes. Il y a fort à parier que les compagnies de Du Guesclin l’auraient aidé à enlever les fortifications de la ville qui permettaient aux baḥrites de menacer la plaine cilicienne depuis trois décennies20. Malheureusement pour les Latins, les projets de croisade de Du Guesclin avaient pris une tournure inattendue au printemps 1367 à la suite du retour de Pierre le Cruel en Espagne. Le capitaine breton avait dû rejoindre l’armée castillane pour affronter un corps expéditionnaire conduit au sud des Pyrénées par le Prince Noir. En dépit de sa force, l’armée castillane avait rapidement lâché pied et permit aux Anglais de capturer Du Guesclin le 3 avril. Sa libération n’intervint que le 17 janvier 1368 après le versement d’une rançon de 100 000 doublons. Le comte de Longueville s’investit durant l’été suivant dans des combats en Provence qui lui valurent une excommunication du Saint-Siège, le premier septembre 1368. Il regagna peu après l’Espagne avec 1 200 lances et 300 archers pour s’atteler à la reconquête du royaume de Castille pour le compte d’Henri de Trastamare. Les deux hommes triomphèrent de Pierre le Cruel le 14 mars 1369, à la frontière de la Castille et de l’émirat de Grenade. Du Guesclin envisagea, après cette victoire, de passer en Sardaigne durant l’été 1369 en compagnie d’un corps expéditionnaire catalan. À cette date, il n’était plus question de croisade pour le Breton qui était redevable de 70 000 pièces d’or au roi de France et peinait à solder ses troupes. Aussi se contenta-t-il de conquérir le duché de Molina, à la lisière de l’Aragon et de la Castille, avant de rentrer en France à l’été 137021. La fin des aventures ibériques de Du Guesclin pose la question de la sincérité de son engagement en faveur de l’Orient latin. La chanson de Cuvelier évoque 20 Hardy, EditioncritiquedelaPrised’Alexandrie, 189-205; Leontios Makhairas, Chronique deChypre, 111-117; Albrecht Fuess, VerbranntesUfer.AuswirkungenmamlukischerSeepolitik auf Beirut und die syro-palästinensische Küste (1250-1517) (Leyde: Brill, 2001), pp. 185-186 (avec la mention d’un raid avorté sur Gibel). 21 Claverie, «Bertrand Du Guesclin», 115-116; Urbain V, Lettressecrètesetcuriales(relativesàlaFrance), n° 2839; Fowler, MedievalMercenaries, I: n° 5 pp. 315-318; Léopold Delisle, MandementsetactesdiversdeCharles V(1364-1380) (Paris: Imprimerie nationale, 1874), n° 851 pp. 437-439 (remise de dettes en date du 19 janvier 1371).

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à cinq reprises son intention de se porter au secours du roi de Chypre qui fut un ennemi acharné des musulmans et le meilleur souverain que la terre ait porté depuis cinq siècles! Le trouvère place dans la bouche de son héros des regrets à l’annonce de l’assassinat de Pierre de Lusignan par des familiers en janvier 1369. Le fait que Cuvelier situe cet épisode en 1365 n’est pas nécessairement la preuve d’une forgerie, le poète ayant composé sa chanson une quinzaine d’années après les événements. Si l’on n’a nulle trace d’une correspondance échangée entre Du Guesclin et Pierre Ier, un passage de la chanson prétend que les mamelouks redoutaient le passage en Syrie du comte de Longueville. Faut-il y voir une fiction littéraire ou la preuve de la réputation grandissante du futur connétable de France? La prudence nous empêche de trancher la question définitivement, Cuvelier affirmant tenir l’information de deux pèlerins gascons de retour de Jérusalem. Une version des GrandeschroniquesdeFrance assure, pour sa part, que Du Guesclin avait commencé à rassembler des troupes en 1365 afin de prendre part à la croisade d’Alexandrie. Ce projet aurait évolué vers une intervention en Castille à l’instigation de Charles V, qui souhaitait venger l’assassinat d’une parente par Pierre le Cruel. Cette thèse semble crédible, car le comte de Longueville ne s’engagea à gagner l’Espagne avec ses troupes qu’au mois d’août 1365. Nous savons, de plus, qu’il rencontra durant sa captivité le roi de Chypre qui était venu recruter des combattants anglais en Aquitaine22. Ces éléments permettent de comprendre les offres de transbordement proposées à Du Guesclin par la Couronne d’Aragon en 1366 et 1367. Si le comte de Longueville avait peu de chance de conquérir Alexandrie en 1367 avec le millier de lances qu’il commandait, ses troupes auraient sans doute pu contribuer à la reconquête de L’Ayas et des villes de la plaine cilicienne. Encore eût-il fallu recevoir une aide efficace de l’armée arménienne qui se terrait dans les montagnes du Taurus. L’établissement d’une tête de pont en Syrie aurait été plus aventureux malgré l’anarchie politique qui régnait en Égypte. Il est probable que les mamelouks auraient affrété sans mal une partie de la flotte armée par Yalbughā en 1366 afin de déloger les chrétiens de leurs positions. Le seul port susceptible de faciliter un retour des chrétiens en Syrie était Tyr, qui avait résisté à Saladin après la déroute de Ḥaṭṭīn. On sait que les Latins l’avaient occupé temporairement en 1300 et que Pierre de Lusignan avait demandé une autorisation aux mamelouks en 1359 pour s’y faire couronner roi de Jérusalem. Le problème serait venu essentiellement des renforts que les croisés auraient été en mesure d’attendre de l’Occident. Les Vénitiens s’ingéniaient en effet à empêcher le 22

Faucon, LachansondeBertrand, I: 45, 151, 163, 166, 169, 171 et 321-324; Denis-François Secousse, Recueil de sources servant de preuves aux mémoires sur les troubles excités en FranceparCharles II,ditleMauvais,roideNavarreetcomted’Evreux (Paris: Durand, 1755), p. 669; Jones, Letters,OrdersandMusters, n° 108-109 pp. 40-42; Amos Barbot, «Histoire de La Rochelle», ArchiveshistoriquesdelaSaintongeetdel’Aunis 14 (1886): 187.

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transbordement de combattants à partir de leur cité, après avoir assuré Yalbughā de leur neutralité à grands renforts de présents23. La situation était différente en 1365 et l’on n’ose imaginer ce que les vingtcinq compagnies du comte de Longueville auraient pu accomplir sur le sol égyptien aux côtés de l’armée chypriote. À ses 9 000 hommes, il convient d’ajouter les 3 000 routiers qu’Hugh Calveley souhaitait transférer en Orient avec le concours de la marine catalane. Avec ces effectifs, Pierre de Lusignan aurait été en mesure de se maintenir à Alexandrie, malgré le détournement de plusieurs milliers de combattants vers les Balkans. La conjoncture aurait étrangement ressemblé à celle de la septième croisade qui avait abouti à l’avènement des mamelouks en 1250. Le régime baḥrite aurait pu succomber à cet assaut ou remporter une nouvelle victoire au nom de l’islam. Nul doute que Du Guesclin aurait gagné une sépulture au Saint-Sépulcre en cas de reconquête de la Terre sainte. Ses ossements reçurent un traitement non moins favorable en 1380, en rejoignant la basilique de Saint-Denis à l’initiative du roi Charles V. Le Breton entra de la sorte dans le panthéon français, bien qu’il ait souhaité être inhumé en Bretagne au milieu des siens selon l’usage du temps24. PIERRE-VINCENT CLAVERIE Centre de Recherche Scientifique de Chypre

23 P-V Claverie, L’ordreduTempleenTerresainteetàChypreauXIIIesiècle, volumes I-III (Nicosie: Centre de Recherche Scientifique, 2005), I: 207-208; Combe, «Le texte de Nuwairi sur l’attaque d’Alexandrie», 102; Louis de Mas Latrie, Histoiredel’îledeChypresouslerègnedes princesdelamaisondeLusignan, volumes I-III (Paris: Imprimerie impériale, 1852-1861), II: 282289. 24 Aimé Chérest, L’Archiprêtre: Épisodes de la guerre de Cent Ans au XIVe siècle (Paris: A. Claudin, 1879), pp. 304-324. Il est à noter que Cuvelier prête dans sa chanson au roi de Chypre le désir de se faire couronner roi de Jérusalem au Saint-Sépulcre après la libération des Lieux saints.

UNE ENQUÊTE POUR SACRILÈGE MENÉE CONTRE DES JUIFS D’ALEXANDRIE SOUS LE RÈGNE D’AL-NĀṢIR MUḤAMMAD

L’histoire de la Méditerranée est faite depuis l’Antiquité d’échanges ininterrompus entre ses rives orientales et occidentales, bercées par une culture commune. C’est fier de ce constat qu’Urbain Vermeulen s’est employé durant trois décennies à rassembler des chercheurs susceptibles d’éclairer l’histoire du Proche-Orient à partir de problématiques variées. La présente communication s’inscrit dans le sillage des vingt-quatre colloques qu’il a organisés avec le soutien de ses collègues et des Universités de Louvain (KUL) et de Gand (UGent). Des recherches au sein des archives barcelonaises nous ont permis de retrouver un singulier document sur une enquête pour sacrilège menée en 1302 contre un groupe de marchands juifs en provenance d’Alexandrie. Cette affaire éclaire aussi bien l’histoire du commerce méditerranéen au Moyen Âge, que la diplomatie développée par la municipalité de Barcelone au XIVe siècle. Le document est d’autant plus précieux qu’un incendie ancien nous prive des exemplaires du LlibredelConsell, antérieurs à l’année 1301. Afin de saisir la portée de l’enquête, il semble nécessaire de présenter la nature des relations catalano-égyptiennes à l’orée du XIVe siècle, avant d’étudier le déroulement de l’affaire qui plongea la communauté juive de Barcelone dans l’effroi. Une édition du document viendra clore cette notice dédiée à la mémoire d’Urbain Vermeulen qui toute sa vie a recherché la vérité dissimulée derrière les faux-semblants, sans céder aux sirènes du consensus et aux jugements de ceux qui pensent détenir la vérité1. 1. L’ÉGYPTE ET LA CATALOGNE AU DÉBUT DU XIVe SIÈCLE Divers auteurs ont souligné à la suite d’Aziz Atiya les points communs unissant les Empires mamelouk et catalano-aragonais sous les règnes d’al-Nāṣir Muḥammad et de Jacques le Juste. Ces deux puissances méditerranéennes avaient noué une alliance contre nature en 1290, justifiée par leur isolement sur la scène internationale. La Maison de Barcelone se confrontait alors en mer Tyrrhénienne aux souverains angevins de Naples qui ambitionnaient de reconquérir la Sicile, perdue à la suite d’une insurrection. Les mamelouks baḥrites subissaient de leur côté l’hostilité prolongée des Ilkhans de Perse qui rêvaient d’unifier le monde 1 Pierre-Vincent Claverie, «Un siècle et demi de relations barcelono-chypriotes (1291-1435)», Επετηρίδα του Κέντρου Επιστημονικών Ερευνών 36 (2013): 109-132; infra Document 1. Cette recherche a été effectuée avec un financement de l’Université de Chypre au titre de l’année 2011.

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musulman, tout en se présentant comme des alliés des chrétiens lors de leurs négociations avec la papauté et les puissances occidentales. Le traité du 24 avril 1290 assura aux Catalans la possession d’un fondouk à Alexandrie ainsi que la liberté de commercer en Égypte sur un pied d’égalité avec les républiques italiennes qui les avaient devancés sur place. Le roi d’Aragon devait en contrepartie approvisionner l’Égypte en matériaux stratégiques et assurer la sécurité des marchands syro-égyptiens qui viendraient à traverser ses États. Le traité impliquait également la libération des captifs déportés en Catalogne et en Sicile où régnait le futur Jacques II d’Aragon. La disparition de son frère aîné, Alphonse III, l’amena à monter en 1291 sur le trône de Barcelone, tandis que son frère cadet, Frédéric, lui succédait en Sicile. Ce dernier s’investit dans une guerre prolongée contre les Angevins, malgré la volonté de Jacques d’aboutir à une solution négociée. Les deux hommes ne tardèrent pas à se brouiller et à s’affronter par le biais de leurs flottes de guerre respectives. Grâce au soutien de mercenaires catalans, Frédéric III parvint à contenir un débarquement angevin en Sicile en 1299, puis à briser les sièges des villes de Messine et Sciacca. L’enlisement de la situation amena Charles II d’Anjou à lui reconnaître le titre de roi de Trinacrie le 31 août 1302, en espérant pouvoir unifier les Couronnes de Naples et de Sicile à sa mort2. La situation de l’Égypte mamelouke était à cette époque non moins précaire en raison des coups d’état qui avaient écarté le sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad du pouvoir en 1295 et 1297. Il est vrai que le fils de Qalāwūn avait été porté au pouvoir à l’âge de huit ans en 1293. Une faction d’émirs le rétablit sur le trône en janvier 1299, après avoir éliminé le sultan Lājīn à l’issue d’une réforme agraire désastreuse. Al-Nāṣir devait jouer encore le rôle de sultan nominal pendant une dizaine d’années, la réalité du pouvoir appartenant aux émirs Salār al-Manṣūrī et Baybars al-Jāshnakīr. La situation se raidit en 1299 à l’occasion d’un raid de la flotte chypriote sur Beyrouth et d’une expédition en Syrie de l’Ikhan Ghazan à la tête de 100 000 hommes. Il infligea aux mamelouks, le 22 décembre 1299, une cuisante défaite sous les murs de Homs, qui permit à ses troupes de ravager la Syrie-Palestine avec le soutien des Druzes de la montagne libanaise. La situation aurait pu tourner au cauchemar pour les baḥrites si Ghazan avait poursuivi les fuyards de leur armée. «Ce fut là une grâce divine, écrit al-Maqrīzī, car si ce prince avait continué sa marche, tous les soldats égyptiens eussent péri jusqu’au dernier». Le départ de Ghazan pour l’Euphratèse entraîna la réoccupation de la majeure partie de la Syrie au mois de mai 1300. Un corps d’armée imposa un tribut de 200 000 dirhams aux cheikhs druzes qui 2 Aziz Surya Atiya, «Egypt and Aragon: Embassies and Diplomatic Correspondence between 1300 and 1330 A.D.», AbhandlungenfürdieKundedesMorgenlandes 23-7 (1938): 1-73; Peter M. Holt, EarlyMamlukDiplomacy,1260-1290: TreatiesofBaybarsandQalāwūnwithChristian Rulers (Leyde: Brill, 1995), pp. 132-140; Agnès Vinas, Robert Vinas, Lacompagniecatalaneen Orient (Pollestres: TDO Éditions, 2012), pp. 14-25.

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avaient harcelé l’armée égyptienne après la défaite du Wādī al-Khazindār. Malgré cette reprise en main, un contingent chypriote s’établit sur l’îlot de Rouad en novembre 1300 afin de collaborer avec l’armée de Ghazan lors de son retour en Syrie. L’opération fut ajournée à deux reprises pour le plus grand bonheur des mamelouks qui purent conquérir l’île le 26 septembre 1302, en capturant cent-vingt chevaliers du Temple esseulés3. Une lettre d’al-Nāṣir Muḥammad qualifie de malfaiteurs et semeurs de troubles les frères du Temple engagés dans la reconquête de la Terre sainte. La papauté avait prononcé à la suite de sa perte en 1291 un embargo sur les marchandises occidentales à destination de l’Empire mamelouk. Ces interdits n’avaient pas contrarié les marchands catalans aussi longtemps que la Couronne d’Aragon défiait ouvertement l’autorité du Saint-Siège. Pierre III d’Aragon avait été en effet excommunié en 1282 pour avoir accepté la Couronne de Sicile à l’issue des Vêpres siciliennes et son royaume avait été offert au prince français, Charles de Valois. Les choses changèrent radicalement lorsque Jacques II d’Aragon signa la paix d’Anagni avec le pape Boniface III en 1295. Les marchands catalans durent solliciter dès lors l’autorisation du monarque pour pouvoir commercer avec l’Égypte mamelouke, où une dizaine de nefs barcelonaises accostaient chaque année. Un système d’amendes absolutoires fut instauré au profit du Trésor royal, malgré l’hostilité de la papauté à toute transaction avec les Alexandrini. On a pu estimer à 22 332 livres de Barcelone les sommes acquittées par les marchands barcelonais entre 1302 et 1334 afin d’éviter des poursuites civiles et criminelles. Ce montant ne représente qu’un dixième des échanges réalisés avec l’Égypte mamelouke durant la période considérée si l’on se fie au taux d’imposition appliqué par la Couronne d’Aragon. Les négociants catalans essayaient de limiter les amendes, en prétendant revenir de Chypre ou transporter les biens de marchands étrangers. Les officiers royaux n’étaient pas pour autant désarmés, le trésorier Bernat de Sarrià étant parvenu à identifier en mai 1301 une cinquantaine de commandes barcelonaises à bord d’une nef revenant d’Alexandrie4. Les registres de la Couronne d’Aragon font état du paiement en 1302 de 5 367 livres, 2 sous et 7 deniers de Barcelone par une vingtaine de marchands en relation avec l’Égypte mamelouke. Les sommes les plus importantes furent 3 Willem Flinterman and Jo Van Steenbergen, «Al-Nasir Muhammand and the Formation of the Qalawunid State», dans PearlsonaString:ArtintheAgeofGreatIslamicEmpires, éd. Amy Landau (University of Washington Press, 2015), pp. 88-89; Al-Maqrīzī, Histoiredessultansmamlouks de l’Egypte, trad. Étienne M. Quatremère, volumes I-II (Paris: Oriental Translation Fund, 1845), II/4: 126-196. 4 Maximiliano A. Alarcón y Santón, Ramón García de Linares, LosdocumentósárabesdiplomáticosdelArchivodelaCoronadeAragón (Madrid: E. Maestre, 1940), n° 149 p. 363; Damien Coulon, Barceloneetlegrandcommerced’OrientauMoyenÂge (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2004), pp. 88-89; Heinrich Finke, Acta Aragonensia, volumes I-III (Berlin: Waltehr Rothschild, 1908-1922), I: n° 56 p. 80 et 65 p. 94, II: n° 7 p. 916.

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versées par les marchands Guillem Sabastida, Bernat Terrós (ou Terrió), Bernat Isern et Jaume Carbó qui appartenaient aux familles montantes de l’oligarchie barcelonaise. Le commerce avec le Levant était si lucratif que Bernat Isern parvint à se faire élire conseiller de Barcelone en 1306 et Jaume Carbó à cinq reprises entre 1305 et 1333. La chronologie des paiements suggère le retour d’Alexandrie de six navires entre le premier mai et le 9 décembre 1302 à raison d’un navire toutes les six semaines. Les équipages des navires concernés semblent avoir participé au négoce avec le monde musulman au vu du versement de 500 sous par les marins de la nef des frères d’Usall, qui revint d’Égypte en novembre 1302. Eimeric et Pere d’Usall sont restés célèbres pour avoir conduit en 1305 une ambassade auprès d’al-Nāṣir Muḥammad afin d’obtenir la libération de prisonniers chrétiens détenus au Caire. Bien que l’affaire ait capoté lamentablement, leurs hommes d’équipage profitèrent de l’opportunité pour commercer en Égypte avec une quinzaine de marchands catalans et trois négociants juifs de Barcelone. Les tables de l’année 1302 mentionnent, pour leur part, cinq marchands juifs de retour d’Alexandrie aux mois de juin et de décembre. Les Israélites apparaissent jusqu’en 1311 associés étroitement aux échanges avec l’Empire mamelouk, avant de disparaître durablement des registres d’imposition aragonais5. Les Juifs subirent en Égypte diverses mesures discriminatoires au cours du printemps 1301 en tant que dhimmī. Les chroniqueurs mamelouks attribuent ces décrets humiliants à l’intervention d’un vizir maghrébin qui aurait été choqué de voir le Copte Amīn al-Mulk parader à cheval dans les rues du Caire. Salār al-Manṣūrī et Baybars al-Jāshnakīr auraient accédé à ses protestations, en soumettant au sultan un rescrit en vue d’imposer le port d’un turban bleu aux chrétiens et celui d’un turban jaune aux Juifs. Aucun dhimmī ne pourrait dorénavant monter des chevaux ou des mules, ni porter d’armes. Il devrait se contenter au mieux d’un âne et céder le passage au musulmans qu’il croiserait dans les rues égyptiennes. Les constructions des dhimmī ne devaient pas non plus dépasser en hauteur celles des mahométans. Les chrétiens renoncèrent aux processions du Dimanche des Rameaux et aux célébrations impliquant l’usage de cloches. Le patriarche copte, Yohannis VIII, et le grand rabbin du Caire durent promettre de n’entreprendre aucune conversion de musulmans, ni tolérer d’achats d’esclaves agarènes par les fidèles de leur communauté. Le rescrit punit de peine de mort tout Juif ou chrétien qui lierait des relations charnelles avec une musulmane. Ces mesures exclurent également les dhimmīde l’administration mamelouke, en exigeant qu’aucun d’entre eux ne propose de travail pénible à un 5 José Trenchs Odena, «De Alexandrinis: El comercio prohibido con los Musulmanes y el Papado de Aviñon durante la primera metad del siglo XIV», AnuariodeEstudiosMedievales 10 (1980): 274, 275, 276, 277 et 279; Carme Batlle i Gallart etalii, El«LlibredelConsell»dela ciutatdeBarcelona.SegleXIV:leseleccionsmunicipals (Barcelone: ConsellSuperior d’Investigacions Científiques, 2007), pp. 347-349, 402, 411, 410, 416, 425, 432, 435, 438, 447, 458 et 463.

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musulman. La proclamation de l’ordonnance eut lieu, le premier avril 1301 (20 rajab AH 700), dans un contexte agité. Plusieurs églises et synagogues du Caire furent démolies, avant que le cadi Ibn Daqīq al-῾Īd ne sanctuarise les lieux de culte édifiés avant l’introduction de l’islam en Égypte. Les exactions perdurèrent durant de nombreux mois après qu’un nouvel édit eut promis aux fidèles les biens et épouses des chrétiens qui refuseraient de porter un turban bleu. Des troubles dans le sud de l’Égypte furent réprimés tout aussi impitoyablement au début de l’année 13026. La situation était tout aussi tendue en Aragon où une conjuration nobiliaire s’était opposée en avril 1301 aux aides réclamées par la Couronne. Le 13 septembre suivant, le roi Jacques II voua à un exil de un à cinq ans les chefs du complot, dont une partie des fiefs fut amalgamée au domaine royal. En Catalogne, une guerre féodale opposait le vicomte Ramon Folc VI de Cardona aux officiers du roi à propos de la dévolution de la baronnie de Montcada et Castellvell à un rival du comte de Foix, Gaston Ier. Les conseillers de Barcelone s’alarmèrent des conséquences préjudiciables du conflit sur l’activité commerciale de leur cité. Ils se plaignirent également auprès du roi d’Aragon de la volonté du roi de Majorque de taxer les marchandises barcelonaises transitant par les Baléares à hauteur de trois deniers par livre. Ils chargèrent le nonce Ramon Fiveller d’exhiber au roi une franchise de son aïeul Jacques le Conquérant, avant de dépêcher une ambassade à la Cour de Majorque sous la conduite du juriste Pere Comte. Le 19 décembre 1301, les édiles de Barcelone démarchèrent Jacques d’Aragon afin d’obtenir réparation du Génois Rosso del Finario qui avait pillé des marchands catalans au large du Cap de Creus. Ils tancèrent au mois suivant le comte d’Empúries qui tardait à restituer au marchand Guillem de Sala dixhuit paniers de poivre, saisis arbitrairement. Ils dénoncèrent également les abus du leudier de Cadaqués qui avait placé sous séquestre une cargaison de cannelle en provenance d’Orient et de Sardaigne. Le 19 janvier 1302, l’aide du roi d’Aragon fut requise derechef afin d’accélérer le dénouement de l’affaire7. Cette chronique urbaine nous amène à évoquer deux documents célèbres du commerce levantin. Il s’agit des missives expédiées par les conseillers de Barcelone à l’émir de la douane d’Alexandrie et au consul des Catalans de la même ville, le 5 février 1302. Dans le premier de ces courriers, Tomàs Grony, Pere Mallol, Guillem Pere d’Usall, Jaume Ferrer de la Sala et Guillem de Mirambell évoquent la conservation à Alexandrie depuis 1287 de marchandises 6 Ibn Abī l-Faḍā᾿il, «Histoire des sultans mamelouks», PatrologiaOrientalis XX (1929): 38-40; al-Maqrīzī, Histoire des sultans mamlouks de l’Egypte, II/4: 177-190; Li Guo, Early Mamluk SyrianHistoriography,Al-Yūnīnī’sDhaylal-Mir’ātaz-Zamān (Leyde: Brill, 1998), I: 177-179. 7 Jerónimo Zurita, Anales de la Corona de Aragón, volumes I-VIII (Saragosse: Institución «Fernando el Católico», 1967-1977), II: liv. 5, chap. 51-54 pp. 608-619; Barcelone, Arxiu Històric de la Ciutat de Barcelona (désormais abrégé en AHCB), 1B.I-01, fol. 9 v°, 10 r°, 11 r°, 12 r°-12 v°, 14 r°-14 v°.

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appartenant au défunt marchand, Guillem de Banyoles. Ce dernier avait confié à l’émir de la douane locale un stock d’antimoine et d’étoffes qu’il n’avait pas été en mesure d’écouler avant son retour en Catalogne. Une captivité inattendue compromit son retour en Égypte au même titre que la récupération des marchandises. Aussi son fils Guillem le Jeune espère-t-il pouvoir compter sur l’appui de l’administration mamelouke pour rentrer en possession de ces biens. Les conseillers de Barcelone n’hésitent pas à invoquer le patronage du roi d’Aragon pour appuyer cette requête formulée en catalan. Un second courrier fut adressé, le 5 février 1302, au consul Pere Rovira afin d’obtenir son intervention auprès de «l’honorable émir de la douane d’Alexandrie» au nom de ses prérogatives et de son attachement viscéral à la cité de Barcelone. Cette requête constituait jusqu’à présent le plus ancien document disponible sur le commerce alexandrin au sein des archives municipales de Barcelone. La raison tient à l’oubli d’un document important annexé à une lettre des conseillers de la cité, le 8 juin 13028. 2. L’AFFAIRE

DU MONASTÈRE D’ALEXANDRIE

C’est en dépouillant les vingt-neuf volumes du LlibredelConsellde Barcelone que nous avons découvert une protestation adressée au roi d’Aragon au sujet des excès de zèle de plusieurs de ses officiers. L’épître relate les abus des scribes Pere Boïl et Bertran Desvall qui ont arraché aux Barcelonais de plus de soixantequinze ans la promesse de servir dans l’ost comtal (exercitusBarchinone) avec la complicité du messager Pere de Súria. Les trois hommes ont également contraint les infirmes et nécessiteux de la cité à gagner la ville de Montfalcó au mépris des privilèges et franchises de la capitale catalane. Ils ont en effet appliqué à l’ensemble des citoyens présents et absents le soixante-huitième article des UsagesdeBarcelone qui prévoit une levée en masse de la population lorsque la personne du roi se trouve menacée. Les conseillers ne doutent pas de la bonne foi du monarque qui a déclaré à Cervera n’avoir jamais souhaité que les vieillards et indigents de Barcelone prennent les armes. Ils l’invitent toutefois à réfréner les officiers royaux qui outrepassent ses ordres afin de respecter les coutumes et constitutions de la cité, héritées de ses prédécesseurs. La lettre du 8 juin pourrait s’arrêter sur ces considérations et saluer respectueusement «l’excellentissime et puissantissime prince, messire Jacques, par la grâce de Dieu roi d’Aragon, de Valence et de Murcie, ainsi que comte de Barcelone, gonfanonier, amiral et capitaine général de la sainte Église romaine»9. 8 Barcelone, AHCB, 1 B I-1, fol. 15 r°-15 v°; Antoni de Capmany i Montpalau, Memorias históricassobrelaMarina,ComercioyArtesdelaantiguaciudaddeBarcelona, volumes I-IV (Barcelone: Cámara Oficial de Comercio y Navegación, 1962 [2e édition]), II/1: n° 68-69 pp. 100-101. 9 Barcelone, AHCB, 1 B I-1, fol. 43 v°.

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Il n’en est rien, car les cinq conseillers de Barcelone évoquent à la suite une sordide affaire qui est remontée à leurs oreilles. Des marchands de retour d’Alexandrie sont allés trouver le bayle de Barcelone, Guillem Llull, pour dénoncer les crimes dont se seraient rendus coupables en Égypte des Juifs catalans. Les marchands ont accusé les Israélites d’avoir profané un monastère melkite ou copte d’Alexandrie à l’occasion des mesures antichrétiennes décrétées par le gouvernement mamelouk. Les conseillers de Barcelone qualifient dans leur missive de «chrétiens de la Ceinture» les fidèles de l’Église copte qui portent depuis le XIIe siècle un zunnār discriminant. Une lettre de l’inquisiteur Joan de Llotger permet d’identifier le sanctuaire qui aurait souffert des impiétés des marchands Santó Desforn, Salomó Bonsenyor et Mossé Toros Gracià. Il s’agit de l’église du Saint-Sauveur (qualifiée en arabe d’al-Sutīr ou al-Muḫalliṣ) que le patriarche copte, Christodule, avait consacrée en 1047 au lendemain de son intronisation. Un des desservants de l’église semble avoir accusé les Israélites d’avoir lapidé une icône de la Vierge, en crachant par terre en signe de mépris. Ce sacrilège incita le bayle Guillem Llull à appréhender les négociants juifs en provenance d’Égypte avec l’appui du viguier de Barcelone, Guillem IV d’Erill i de Castellvell, qui dirigeait l’appareil judiciaire de la cité depuis le 27 novembre 130110. Devant la nature de l’affaire, les deux hommes décidèrent de désigner une commission d’enquête pour faire la lumière sur les événements qui s’étaient produits à Alexandrie. Un notaire public fut assigné au juriste Arnau Roig afin de remplir cette mission avec l’aide du bayle général de Catalogne, Romeu de Marimón, et du prud’homme barcelonais, Pere Ier de Santcliment, qui avait exercé la charge de conseiller municipal en 1288. Pere de Santcliment passait pour un homme avisé et Romeu de Marimón pour un fin connaisseur de l’Égypte mamelouke où il avait conduit une ambassade aragonaise au tournant des années 1292-1293. C’est le moment que choisit le vice-procureur de Catalogne, Bernat de Fonollar, pour se mêler de l’affaire. Ce dernier intervenait en tant que lieutenant de l’infant Jacques d’Aragon (1296-1334) que les Corts de Catalogne venaient de reconnaître comme héritier de la Couronne à l’âge de cinq ans. Bernat de Fonollar ne démit pas officiellement Arnau Roig de ses prérogatives dans un premier temps. Il adjoignit à sa commission deux juges royaux répondant aux noms de Ramon de Sales et Ramon de Tellà dans l’espoir de suivre la procédure au plus près. Si l’on se fie au témoignage des conseillers de Barcelone, cette solution lui parut rapidement insatisfaisante. Bernat de Fonollar s’accapara alors la direction de l’enquête, en révoquant tous les commissaires qui avaient été désignés depuis la dénonciation des marchands juifs auprès du bayle Guillem Llull11. 10 Barcelone, AHCB, 1 B I-1, fol. 11 r°; infra Document 1; Christian Décobert, Alexandrie médiévale (Le Caire: IFAO, 2002) II: 90; Finke, ActaAragonensia, III: n° 49 pp. 111-112. 11 Infra Document 1; Batlle i Gallart etalii, El«LlibredelConsell»delaciutatdeBarcelona, 328-329. Bernat de Fonollar avait été nommé vice-procureur de Catalogne, le 22 avril 1302, en remplacement de Bertran de Canyelles. Malgré ses excès, il devait occuper sa charge jusqu’en 1311.

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Le procureur général de Catalogne décida de procéder de manière discrétionnaire avec l’assistance du chancelier Pere de Monells et du curialiste Ramon de Besalú qui appartenait au corps diplomatique aragonais. Les conseillers de Barcelone l’accusent de n’avoir recueilli aucune déposition écrite par le biais d’un notaire assermenté. Il aurait également méprisé les droits de la défense en décidant de soumettre à la question les suspects, sans avoir écouté leurs explications. Santó Desforn, Salomó Bonsenyor et Mossé Toros Gracià furent en effet torturés au mépris du droit civil et des privilèges exonérant les Barcelonais de pareilles procédures. Il apparaît en outre que Bernat de Fonollar n’a tenu aucun compte des appels formulés par les conseillers de Barcelone auprès de la Couronne afin d’écourter le calvaire des marchands. Aussi les édiles implorent-ils le roi de le désaisir de l’affaire pour en confier l’instruction à un juge respectueux des privilèges, statuts et coutumes de leur cité. Ils déclarent au passage avoir appris d’autres marchands alexandrins la vanité des accusations portées contre les commerçants juifs, dont les demeures ont souffert de l’hostilité des musulmans autant que celles des chrétiens lors des persécutions orchestrées par les mamelouks12. Cette version est confirmée par le rapport de l’inquisiteur Joan de Llotger, adressé au roi d’Aragon le 11 juin 1302. Le dominicain invoque comme preuve de l’innocence des Juifs le témoignage de marchands qui ont assisté à Alexandrie à l’audition du prêtre copte à l’origine de la rumeur. Ce dernier a avoué au consul Pere Rovira avoir monté l’affaire de toutes pièces pour se venger des Israélites qui ont tenu des propos injurieux en passant devant son sanctuaire. Ces paroles durent exaspérer le prêtre qui avait assisté à la démolition de deux églises alexandrines l’année précédente, sans pouvoir s’y opposer13. Quoi qu’il en soit, son faux-témoignage provoqua une série de réactions en chaîne d’une rare intensité. La lettre de Joan de Llotger nous apprend que l’inquisition se saisit de l’affaire, en plus des justices comtale et royale qui se disputaient le droit d’interroger les marchands juifs. Le dominicain catalan mena une contre-enquête rigoureuse avec l’élu de Barcelone, Ponç de Gualba, à qui plusieurs marchands avaient dénoncé le fond de l’affaire. Les deux hommes enregistrèrent le témoignage des marchands qui avaient assisté à la déposition, puis à la rétractation du prêtre à l’origine du scandale. Joan de Llotger décida d’écrire au roi d’Aragon pour blanchir Santó Desforn, Salomó Bonsenyor et Mossé Toros Gracià. Il justifia son intervention par la nécessité de combattre le vice de la dissimulation (vitiumdetraccionis)qui consiste à occulter ce qui est vrai et notoire, plus qu’à proférer des contre-vérités. L’archidiacre Hug de 12

Infra Document 1; Stéphane Péquignot, Aunomduroi:Pratiquediplomatiqueetpouvoir durantlerègnedeJacques IId’Aragon(1291-1327) (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2009), p. 63. 13 Finke, ActaAragonensia, III: n° 49 p. 111-112; al-Maqrīzī, Histoiredessultansmamlouks, II/4: 180. La position de Joan de Llotger tranche avec l’hostilité habituelle des inquisiteurs à l’égard de la perfidie supposée des Juifs au Moyen Âge(cf. Bernard Gui, Manueldel’inquisiteur, éd. et trad. Guillaume Mollat, volumes I-II (Paris: Belles-Lettres, 1964 [2e tirage]), II: 7-19).

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Cardona prit également la plume pour réclamer l’élargissement des marchands torturés par Bernat de Fonollar. Son courrier prit la route de Jaca en même temps qu’une ambassade barcelonaise, forte de huit ciutadanshonrats et du docteur ès lois, Pere Comte. La taille de cette délégation s’explique par la volonté de Jacques II d’obtenir des explications sur les protestations qui lui étaient parvenues après l’arrestation des marchands juifs. Les Barcelonais y inclurent à dessein deux juristes, le prud’homme Bertran de Seva appartenant au corps des savisendret de la cité. D’autres questions devaient être abordées par l’ambassade conduite par les conseillers Tomàs Grony et Guillem Pere d’Usall d’après la lettre de créance qui fut rédigée le 7 juin 1302. Cette dernière prie Jacques II de croire tout ce que les nonces de la cité lui rapporteront, en veillant à leur témoigner ses faveurs habituelles14. L’intercession des conseillers de Barcelone s’explique par la volonté de défendre des concitoyens diffamés et torturés au mépris de leur qualité. Cette conception politique était partagée par le roi Jacques II de Majorque qui défendit en 1306 ses sujets juifs victimes de proscriptions dans le Midi de la France. Les conseillers de Barcelone adressèrent, pour leur part, deux injonctions en 1302 aux officiers et consuls des royaumes d’Aragon et de Valence qui souhaitaient taxer des marchands juifs domiciliés à Barcelone. Ils commencèrent par prendre la défense le 14 août de l’ancien Fésien, Omer Maïmon, qui s’acquittait des tailles, impôts et contributions levés dans la capitale catalane. Le marchand séfarade bénéficiait de ce fait des exemptions de péage accordées aux citoyens de Barcelone au sein de la Couronne d’Aragon depuis le 12 avril 1232. Un nouveau courrier fut rédigé le 24 octobre 1302 en faveur du Barcelonais Haïm Abenquis, qui était originaire de la ville navarraise de Tudèle. Dans les deux cas, les conseillers de Barcelone reproduisirent intégralement les privilèges de Jacques Ier et Jacques II d’Aragon, qui accordaient une franchise douanière aux citoyens de Barcelone en récompense des services qu’ils avaient rendus à la Couronne depuis le XIIe siècle. Il ressort de ces éléments que les Barcelonais défendaient le principe du droit du sol dans un système monarchique fondé sur la juxtaposition de communautés (universitats) confessionnelles et urbaines. Il leur arrivait à ce titre de délivrer fréquemment des brevets de citoyenneté aux nouveaux habitants de la cité15. La municipalité de Barcelone entrenait des relations privilégiées avec le roi d’Aragon qui souffrait de l’hostilité d’une partie grandissante de la noblesse catalano-aragonaise. Aussi les ambassadeurs barcelonais n’eurent aucun mal à 14

Barcelone, AHCB, 1 B I-1, fol. 61 v°-62 r° (infra Document 2); Finke, ActaAragonensia, III: n° 49 p. 111-112; Batlle i Gallart etalii, El«LlibredelConsell»delaciutatdeBarcelona, 412, 416 et 425. 15 P.-V. Claverie, «Vers un réexamen de la condition des Juifs sous les rois de Majorque», dans Perpignan:l’HistoiredesJuifsdanslaville(XIIe-XXesiècles) (Perpignan: Archives communales, 2003), pp. 91-98; Barcelone, AHCB, 1 B I-1, fol. 53 r°-54 r° et 63 v°-64 v°.

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prouver l’innocence des marchands emprisonnés par Bernat de Fonollar. Le 24 juin 1302, Jacques II leur concéda une lettre de rémission qui reconnut la tenue de propos et gestes excessifs dans l’église Saint-Sauveur d’Alexandrie. Santó Desforn, Salomó Bonsenyor et Mossé Toros Gracià furent absous de leurs fautes et blanchis de toute action et peine criminelle et civile, engagées contre leurs personnes. Des mandements furent adressés aux bayle et viguier de Barcelone, ainsi qu’au procureur Bernat de Fonollar, afin de stopper les poursuites et d’élargir les intéressés. Les trois marchands juifs durent néanmoins verser au Trésor une amende absolutoire de 6 000 sous «pour les excès commis» lors de leur séjour à Alexandrie. La notification du paiement fut signifiée par Jacques II au trésorier Pere Boïl, le 25 juin 1302, par voie officielle. Le scandale le poussa à interdire dès le 16 juin à ses sujets de commercer avec l’Empire mamelouk. Le roi justifia cette prohibition par le respect dû à ses ordres antérieurs et par l’offense commise par les Alexandrini à la face de Dieu et de l’Église romaine. Des crieurs publics furent chargés de répandre la décision du souverain à travers la cité de Barcelone et les ports de Catalogne et de Valence, en relation avec l’Orient. Un exemplaire du courrier fut délivré à Bernat de Fonollar dans le but de saisir les personnes et biens des négociants qui oseraient s’aventurer en Égypte16. L’interdiction de Jacques II d’Aragon n’eut qu’une portée limitée à l’instar des précédentes. Une quinzaine de marchands barcelonais revinrent d’Alexandrie dans la seconde partie de l’année 1302. Ce chiffre se maintint en 1303, avant un fléchissement significatif en 1304. Les Juifs ne désertèrent pas le delta du Nil à l’instar de Mossé Toros Gracià qui rapporta 150 livres de marchandises d’Alexandrie en août 1303. Ses compagnons d’infortune ne prirent pas le risque de remettre les pieds en Égypte après le scandale de l’église Saint-Sauveur et les tortures qui leur avaient été infligées en retour. Salomó Bonsenyor avait pourtant effectué un voyage à Alexandrie dès l’année 1299 avec ses coreligionnaires Vides Jucef, Bolax Jassua, Mossé Isaac et Samuel Jucef. Il tenait sa parfaite connaissance de l’arabe de son père Astruc qui avait officié de longues années comme drogman du roi Jacques le Conquérant (1213-1276). Les registres du notaire Pere Portell nous apprennent que les commerçants juifs avaient voyagé en 1299 à bord d’une escadre de sept nefs barcelonaises à destination du Levant. Le destin de Santó Desforn demeure aussi obscur en dépit de sa mention dans une grâce de l’infant Pierre d’Aragon, émise en 129117. 16 Moshe A. Shaltiel, The Shaltiel Manuscripts: Catalunya 1061-1481 (New York-LincolnShangai: iUniverse, Inc., 2004), n° 48 pp. 71-72; Finke, ActaAragonensia, III: n° 49 p. 112 (extrait donné en fin d’acte); Martín Fernández de Navarrete, «Disertacion histórica sobre la parte que tuviéron los españoles en las guerras de Ultramar ó de las cruzadas y como influyéron estas expediciones desde el siglo XI hasta el XV en la extension del comercio marítimo y en los progresos del arte de navegar», MemoriasdelaRealAcademiadelaHistoria 5 (1817): n° XX pp. 180-181. 17 Trenchs Odena, «DeAlexandrinis», 274-275; Agustí Duran i Sanpere, Barcelonailaseva història, volumes I-III (Barcelone, Curial, 1972-1975), II: 472-474; David Romano, Dehistoria

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Malgré ses limites, la documentation barcelonaise jette un éclairage original sur les tensions religieuses qui secouèrent l’Égypte au début du XIVe siècle. La familiarité des Catalans avec les chrétiens d’Orient transparaît des dépositions récoltées par l’Inquisition et les conseillers de Barcelone, qui obtinrent la levée d’écrou des marchands suspectés de sacrilège. On ne peut manquer de s’interroger sur la légalité des procédures intentées par la justice aragonaise pour un crime perpétré dans un pays étranger. Il en va de même de l’incompétence théorique de l’Inquisition à juger une offense commise à l’encontre de chrétiens schismatiques, voire hérétiques. L’Église copte n’avait noué aucun rapport officiel à l’époque avec la papauté romaine à la différence du patriarcat orthodoxe d’Alexandrie qui était associé aux conciles œcuméniques organisés en Europe. Aussi les Coptes passaient-ils dans l’Occident chrétien pour d’ardents monophysites, bien que leur dogme fût teinté de miaphysisme. Ces subtilités échappèrent à la justice et à l’Inquisition aragonaise qui ne retinrent que la nationalité des suspects et l’horreur du crime qu’on leur imputait. Les deux juridictions semblent s’être érigées en défenseurs des Coptes à l’instar du roi Jacques II, dont un courrier du premier juin 1303 plaide la cause auprès du sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad au nom de la tolérance religieuse qui s’exerce en Aragon. Cette démarche contribuait au rayonnement diplomatique du roi qui entendait se saisir des questions orientales en tant qu’amiral et capitaine général de l’Église romaine18. PIERRE-VINCENT CLAVERIE Centre de Recherche Scientifique de Chypre

judíahispánica (Barcelone: Edicions Universitat Barcelona, 1991), p. 79; Jean Régné, History of the Jews in Aragon: Regesta and Documents, 1213-1327 (Jérusalem: Magnes Press, 1978), n° 2426 p. 453. 18 Ángeles Masiá de Ros, LaCoronadeAragónylosestadosdelNortedeÁfrica (Barcelone: Instituto Español de Estudios Mediterráneos, 1951), n° 25 p. 290.

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DOCUMENT 1 1302 Juin 8

Barcelone

Les conseillers de Barcelone implore le roi Jacques II d’Aragon de confier à un officier respectueux de leurs privilèges l’enquête menée contre des Juifs catalans, que l’on soupçonne d’avoir commis des crimes dans un monastère alexandrin. A. Minute en latin insérée dans le premier volume du LlibredelConsell de la municipalité de Barcelone: Barcelone, Arxiu Històric de la Ciutat de Barcelona (AHCB), 1B.I01, fol. 43 v°-44 r°. Excellentissimo et potentissimo principi, domino Jacobo, Dei gratia regi Aragonum19, Valencie et Murcie, comitique Barchinone ac Sancte Romane Ecclesie vexillario, ammirato et capitaneo generali, consiliarii [et probi homines civitatis Barchinone]20 ipsos se et sua semper flexis genibus manuum pedumque oscula veneranda. [...]21 Vestre etiam dominationi sciri facimus quod fuit nobis dictum per aliquos quod bajulus Barchinone ad denunciationem ei factam cepit et captos tenuit aliquos Judeos Barchinone qui venerant de partibus Alexandrie et qui fuerunt inculpati quod commiserant aliqua crimina in civitate Alexandrie in quodam monasterio Grecorum sive Christianorum dela sentura et quod idem bajulus simul cum vicario Barchinone, Arnaldo Rubei, jusperito ad hoc inquisitore, per dictos bajulum et vicarium assignato et quodam notario publico et etiam simul cum Romeo de Marimundo, bajulo generali Cathalonie, et Petro de Sancto Clemente et aliis probis hominibus Barchinone, ut est assuetum procedere, intendebant et processerant ad inquirendum contra dictos Judeos de predictis criminibus inculpatos. Et superveniente in ipsa inquisitione, venerabili Bernardo de Fonollario, tenente locum procuratoris, idem locum tenens processit simul cum omnibus supradictis et etiam adjuventis Raymundo de Salis et Raymundo de Teylano, judicibus Curie vestre, in dicta inquisitione, prout faciendum erat. Postquam dictus locum tenens totam predictam inquisitionem ad se advocavit, obmissis Raymundo de Salis et Raymundo de Teylano et aliis omnibus supradictis, et tam modo cum Petro de Munellis et Raymundo de Busuldone, de novo ad hoc per eum assumptis, processit sine notario publico et nondum inquisitione completa nec publicata nec auditis eorum deffensionibus et sine ratione cognitione aliquos ex predictis Judeis questionibus posuit seu tormentis ultra modum licitum et a jure taxatum contra jura, privilegia et statuta [per vestram] regiam majestatem et per predecessores vestros civitati Barchinone et toti terre Cathalonie concessa, non obstantibus apellationibus per nos ad vestram regalem magnificentiam interjectis. Unde cum dicti Judei capti in predictis de quibus fuerint accusati non sint culpabiles, prout asseritur per aliquos qui venerunt de dictis partibus Alexandrie, ideo vestro misericordie et fonti justitie humiliter suplicamus quod dictum negotium alii commitatur, qui observet privilegia et statuta nostra et consuetudines Barchinone, injungendo dicto locum tenenti et aliis officialibus ut in posterum privilegia, statuta nostra et consuetudines Barchinone observent et observare teneantur, non obstantibus frivolis excusationibus dicti locum tenentis que sunt, ut officialis vocabulo procurator non debeat comprehendi, licet vocabulo vicarius et bajulus [qui] primo fuerit nominatus22, cum in contrarium in curia Barchinone fuerit intellectum. Creator cunctorum vobis tribuat vitam longevam, prosperam et felicem. Datum Barchinone, sexto idus junii, anno Domini millesimo trecentesimo secundo. 19 20 21 22

Ces deux derniers mots figurent en interligne dans le registre à la suite d’une lacune. La fin de la titulature est abrégée dans le manuscrit en «etc». Nous omettons à dessein l’édition de la première partie de la lettre qui traite d’une autre affaire. Ms.«nominatum».

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DOCUMENT 2 1302 Juin 7

Barcelone

Les conseillers de Barcelone recommandent au roi Jacques II d’Aragon les ambassadeurs qui s’apprêtent à rejoindre sa cour pour évoquer des sujets d’actualité. La délégation conduite par les conseillers Tomàs Grony et Guillem Pere d’Usall comprend les citoyens Guillem de Llacera, Ramon Ricard, Galceran de Nàgera, Pere de Vilafranca, Bertran de Seva et Jaume de Montjuïc, en plus du juriste Pere Comte. A. Minute en latin insérée dans le premier volume du LlibredelConsell de la municipalité de Barcelone: Barcelone, Arxiu Històric de la Ciutat de Barcelona (AHCB), 1B.I01, fol. 61 v°-62 r°. EDITION PARTIELLE: Antoni Riera Mielis, LaCoronadeAragónyelReinodeMallorca enelprimercuartodelsigloXIV.Lasrepercusionesarancelariasdelaautonomíabalear (1298-1311)(Madrid et Barcelone: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1986), I: n° 27 p. 292. Magnifico et potentissimo principi, domino Jacobo, Dei gratia regi Aragonum, Valencie et Murcie, comitique Barchinone ac Sancte Romane Ecclesie vexillario, ammirato et capitaneo generali, consiliarii et probi homines civitatis Barchinone se ipsos semper et sua cum omni subjectione et23 pedum ac24 manuum devotissimos osculamen. Ad vestram regiam magestatem mitimus25 juxta mandatum a vestra excellentia vel litteratorie nobis factum octo probos homines, videlicet Thomam Grunni et G[uillelmum] P[etrum] Duzay, consiliarios civitatis Barchinone in hoc anno26, et G[uillelmum] de Lacera, R[aymundum] Ricardi, Gaucerandum de Nagera, P[etrum] de Villafrancha, Bertrandum de Seva et Jacobum de Monte Judayco, cives venerabiles27 civitatis Barchinone, ac etiam P[etrum] Comitis, legum doctorem. Quibus28 placeat vestra serenitas credere in omnibus que ex parte dicte civitatis vestre altitudini duxerint referenda, ipsos benigne de pietate solita admitendo. Creator cunctorum vobis tribuat vitam longevam et prosperam et in vestris negotiis prosperitatem et victoriam, ut cupitis et obtatis. Datum Barchinone, septo idus junii, anno Domini millesimo trecentesimo secundo.

23 24 25 26 27 28

Suivi Suivi Suivi Suivi Suivi Suivi

de de de de de de

«humile», biffé. «ad», biffé. «et», biffé. «videlicetThomamG.», biffé. «Barchinone», biffé. «si», biffé.

CAPTIVES FROM THE MAMLŪK LANDS IN CYPRUS: 1250-1324

The second half of the thirteenth century as well as the early part of the fourteenth witnessed intermittent warfare between the Lusignan kingdom of Cyprus and the newly founded Mamlūk sultanate of Egypt and Syria. The kings of Cyprus sent aid to their co-religionists in Latin Syria to prevent the Mamlūk re-conquest, begun under Sultan Baybars in the 1260s and successfully completed under his successors, Qalāwūn and al-Ashraf by 1291, when the Muslims besieged and stormed Acre and then took Tyre without resistance. In the early fourteenth century the Mongols and the kings of Cyprus and Cilician Armenia tried to co-ordinate attacks on the Mamlūk sultanate, although with limited success. This warfare, including the conduct of naval raids by Cypriot fleets against the coastlines of the Mamlūk lands, resulted in the taking of captives by both Mamlūks and Latin Christians. In this paper the instances where persons were captured by the enemy as well as the fate of the captives, when this can be ascertained, will be discussed. Numerous captives were taken during the unsuccessful naval attack Sultan Baybars organized against the coastal town of Limassol, at the time the chief port of Lusignan Cyprus, in June 1271. The purpose of this raid was probably to divert King Hugh III of Cyprus, whose forces had landed at Acre with those of Prince Edward of England. The sources differ on the number of ships taking part but agree that the fleet in question, apparently painted black and with crosses on the sails to as to deceive the Cypriots, ran aground on the shoals before Limassol, although according to some sources a small number of the ships managed to escape. Around 1.800 captives were taken from among both the soldiers and sailors according to the Muslim accounts of al-Yūnīnī, a near contemporary source, and the fifteenth century al-῾Aynī. On learning of this disaster, apparently from a letter King Hugh III wrote to him, Sultan Baybars made light of the news, comparing the loss of his ships as being of little account when compared to the numerous fortifications he had taken from the Franks in Syria. Unlike fortifications and cities, ships could be replaced with relative ease.1 Sultan Baybars also expressed views on the Mamlūk soldiers and sailors 1 Chypre dans les sources arabes médiévales, trans. Tahar Mansouri (Nicosia: Cyprus Research Centre, 2001), pp. 50-51, 56-58, 61, 81-82 and 113; The‘TemplarofTyre’PartIII ofthe‘DeedsoftheCypriots’, ed. Paul Crawford (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2003), p. 67, §377; George Hill, A History of Cyprus, volumes I-IV (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1940-1952), II: 167; Peter Thorau, TheLionofEgypt:SultanBaybarsIandtheNear EastintheThirteenthCentury, trans. Peter M. Holt (Harlow: Longman Group UK Ltd, 1987), pp. 207 and 218 note 111.

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captured in Cyprus, but the various Muslim and Coptic accounts differ on how he viewed their capture. The contemporary thirteenth century Coptic chronicler Mufaḍḍal ibn Abī l-Faḍā᾿il states that in his response to the news of his fleet’s capture he responded “Praises be rendered to Allah who has redeemed my army by the loss of the equipment and the divers…”. This statement by a great Mamluk general and strategist reflects the low opinion held not only by him but also by the Mamlūk military elite, consisting of cavalry, with regard to sailors and seamen in general. It is noteworthy that none of the commanders captured, including those of Damietta, Alexandria and Rosetta, the three biggest Egyptian ports, were Mamlūks, who bore Turkish names, in contrast to the Arabic names of those captured.2 The relatively unimportant military and social status of the Muslims captured also explains why, as will be seen below, they were not ransomed speedily. On the contrary, those liberated, who were but a small proportion of the total captured, secured their freedom after considerable delay and without any ransom being paid for them. The Muslim writer Ibn Shaddād al-Ḥalabī, also of the thirteenth century, illustrates further the sultan’s dismissive attitude towards the captured Muslims. He states that the Mamlūks captured in Cyprus were sent to Acre to be exchanged, but that Sultan Baybars refused to give men or money in exchange for them, stating “I no longer have any need of them, I have already replaced them by others”. He also wrote to the Muslim commanders in captivity prohibiting them from arranging their own release in exchange for others, threatening those doing so with hanging. This situation lasted several years, with some of the Muslims dying in captivity and others managing to escape. Finally, however, the sultan resolved to assist the remaining prisoners to escape. He wrote to the emir in charge of the citadel of Ṣafad, ῾Izz al-Dīn Aybak al-῾Alā᾿ī, telling him to find a solution for freeing those still captive. The emir duly wrote to a Frank resident in Acre promising him a reward of 1,000 dinars if he found a way to secure their release. The Frank in question, whom Ibn Shaddād names Jafrin, arranged for saws and files to be smuggled into the gaols of the captives Muslims, thereby enabling them to saw off the bars of a window in the fort where they were imprisoned. Dressed as Franks, the exited the port of Acre by night and boarded a boat that had been readied for them, and next sailed to the bank of a river where they disembarked at a prearranged point and mounted the horses nearby. Changing their clothes and wearing masks they rode to Ṣafad, whence the emir ῾Izz al-Dīn arranged for them to go to Egypt, with their faces still masked so that none might recognize them.3 2 Chypre dans les sources arabes, 51; David Ayalon, “The Mamlūks and Naval Power: A Phase of the Struggle between Islam and Christian Europe”, ProceedingsoftheIsraeliAcademy ofSciencesandHumanities, 1 (1965): 5. 3 Chypredanslessourcesarabes, 54-55.

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Ibn Shaddād al-Ḥalabī, whose contemporary account of the Muslims’ capture and the subsequent return to Egypt of those fortunate enough to take part in this dramatic escape is the most detailed, provides the names of the Muslim commanders who escaped, as well as of those who died in captivity. Two commanders and the brother of one of these two managed to escape and return to Egypt, while the number of commanders dying in captivity was no less than eight. The liberated commanders arrived in Egypt at a time when Sultan Baybars was absent in Karak, but on his return he had them brought into his presence and began berating them for their negligence, presumably in allowing his fleet to run aground on the shoals before Limassol. At this juncture one of the commanders, named Shihāb al-Dīn, told the sultan that “Allah’s will cannot be avoided by any ruse”, presumably an oblique reference to the painting of the ships and the placing of crosses on their sails. The sultan then relented, offering the escaped commanders robes of honour. Ibn Shaddād also refers to the fate of those captives of lower rank. Speaking of the ordinary sailors, he states that Allah facilitated the escape of some, while others remained in captivity on Cyprus.4 Other accounts of the captives’ fate dated to the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries have points of similarity and divergence to that of Ibn Shaddād. Baybars al-Manṣūrī, a fourteenth century Muslim writer who served the Mamlūk sultans in a variety of administrative posts, states that Sultan Baybars never ceased scheming to have the captives free, alternately threatening and promising until such time as he was able to free them. This author depicts the sultan as exhibiting a far more positive attitude than that recounted by Ibn Shaddād. He states that those returning safe and sound numbered six “among the finest captains and most senior commanders of the fleet”, a number greater than that given by Ibn Shaddād, although they are not named. The writer al-Nuwayrī, a fourteenth century administrator who served in various posts, including that of the head of finances (nāẓiral-dīwān) states that the commanders and archers captured on Cyprus were kept in custody, but that the Franks exchanged a number of them for their own prisoners. He adds that six of the commanders were retained in captivity, including those of Alexandria and Damietta, until 1274. Sultan Baybars, wishing to ransom them, assigned this task to his chamberlain, the emir Fakhr al-Dīn al-Maqqarī, “but the Franks demanded a very high price”. He recounts how their escape was subsequently arranged, essentially giving the same account as Ibn Shaddād but in summary fashion.5 Turning to fifteenth century accounts of the capture and escape of the soldiers and sailors in Sultan Baybars’ expedition against Cyprus one sees how al-῾Aynī, already mentioned above, states how the king of Cyprus had the commanders imprisoned and then sent to Acre, where they were imprisoned in the 4 5

Chypredanslessourcesarabes, 55. Chypredanslessourcesarabes, 56 and 61-62.

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citadel. He states nothing as regards the lower ranks. Like al-Nuwayrī he states that the sultan offered to ransom the commanders and that the Franks asked for a very great sum. He then narrates how six of them escaped, repeating in summary form the account given by Ibn Shaddād. Al-Maqrīzī, perhaps the most distinguished among fifteenth century Mamlūk historians, repeats the story that the Franks asked for a very high price for the senior commanders when the sultan offered to pay their ransom, but states that some of the archers and other commanders were sent to certain persons who exchanged them for prisoners whom the sultan had released, something first found in the fourteenth century account of al-Nuwayrī. His account as regards the escape of the prisoners and their return to Egypt has the same information in summary form as that offered by Ibn Shaddād and al-Nuwayrī.6 Overall, one observes that the negative attitudes Sultan Baybars allegedly had over ransoming or exchanging the prisoners are not found, or found in a highly attenuated form, in those accounts postdating the thirteenth century. The anonymous sixteenth century Italian chronicle of the history of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem and the Lusignan kingdom of Cyprus known as “Amadi” after the name of its last owner, a Venetian nobleman, contains several references to Muslim captives in Latin Syria and on Cyprus. It recounts how Sultan Baybars agreed to an exchange of captives with Count John of Jaffa, who granted his Muslim slaves in exchange for the Christians held captive by the sultan. The sultan then concluded a truce with the count of Jaffa, leaving his lands in peace. This episode refers to Baybars’ arrival in Syria in the spring of 1263 at the head of an army with the aim of taking possession of the fortress of Karak. It was in the course of this expedition that he received the envoys of the count of Jaffa, who had, however, liberated his Muslim captives in 1261. Regarding Cyprus, the chronicle recounts how in the course of a raid against Egypt conducted by a Cypriot fleet consisting of 16 galleys and saete as well as six panfletti this fleet seized a Muslim ship off Alexandria, which had been journeying there from Alaya, a port in southern Asia Minor. After seizing the 30 men on board the men of the fleet burnt the captured ship. There can be little doubt that the captured crew were brought to Cyprus and sold as slaves.7 The chronicle has two specific references to Muslim slaves on Cyprus for the period prior to 1324. The first of these is to a Turkish slave woman who belonged to Margaret of Ibelin, the abbess of the Benedictine nunnery of Our Lady of Tyre and the daughter of John of Ibelin, the titular count of Jaffa. This slave was seized and imprisoned when the abbess was accused of harbouring the murderer 6

Chypredanslessourcesarabes, 81, 83 and 113-114. “Chronique d’Amadi”, in Chroniques d’Amadi et de Strambaldi, ed. René de Mas Latrie, volumes I-II (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1891-1893), I: 206 and 236-237; Thorau, LionofEgypt, 143 and 145. 7

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of Amaury the lord of Tyre after the latter’s murder in 1310, in consequence of which her abbey was pillaged by his supporters. The second reference is to the Saracen slaves of Kyrenia who buried Walter of Bethsan and other adherents of Amaury, who had been seized and imprisoned in the dungeons of Kyrenia after the restoration of his brother King Henry II to the throne in 1310. The fact that the ethnic origins of the above mentioned Muslim slaves are specified enables one to conclude with certitude that the designation “Saracen” in the chronicle refers to Muslims originating from Egypt or Syria, the lands of the Mamlūk sultanate, as opposed to Anatolia, the Muslim inhabitants of which the chronicle called Turks.8 Captive slaves originating from the Mamlūk territories and resident on Cyprus were not necessarily employed in menial tasks. A salient example is that of a certain Hassan. Almost certainly of Muslim origin, also possibly a Syrian Christian, he was designated as a royal slave and worked as the chief of the royal arsenal in Famagusta, where ships were constructed and repaired. During the time when he was employed in building the supply ships known as tafforesiae, constructed to help bring men and other supplies to the embattled kingdom of Cilician Armenia, he was paid a salary of one bezant per day, the same rate of pay as that given to a master carpenter. In addition, he had two other slaves working under him, and worked for a total of 21 days on building these ships during the months of October and November 1325. A person named Nicholas Hassan and his son Perrot are also mentioned in the documentation, with Nicholas getting paid one bezant per day for his work in the Famagusta arsenal. Nicholas Hassan is probably another person, for Hassan was a common name used by both Muslims and Christians originating from Syria. Nicholas Hassan moreover, is not specifically mentioned as a slave of the king, and so was in all likelihood a Syrian Christian.9 Another Muslim captive on Cyprus employed in an even more responsible capacity was Ḥusām al-Dīn Abū l-Faḍā᾿il, son of the judge Tāj al-Dīn Abī l-Mafākhir. According to the Muslim writer al-῾Aynī, whose account is also found with minor differences in the writings of Abū l-Maḥāsin Ibn Taghrībirdī, both Muslim historians of the fifteenth century, he was born in 1233 and allegedly captured by the “people of the Mountain”, perhaps an oblique reference to the Assassins. Subsequently sold to the Franks, he became a physician following 8 “Chronique d’Amadi”, 351 and 397-398; Nicholas Coureas, The Latin Church in Cyprus 1195-1312 (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 1997), p. 190. 9 Jean Richard, “Les comptes de l’évêque Géraud de Paphos et les constructions navales en Chypre”, in ChypresouslesLusignans:DocumentschypriotesdesarchivesduVatican(XIVeet XVesiècles), ed. Jean Richard (Paris: Librairie Orientaliste Geuthner, 1962), pp. 40 and 43-44; Sarah Arenson, “Ship Construction in Cyprus. 1326-6”, in TropisII2ndInternationalSymposium onShipConstructioninAntiquity, ed. Harry Tzalas (Delphi: Hellenic Institute for the Preservation of Nautical Tradition, 1987), p. 20.

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his arrival in Cyprus. It was reported that when the king of Cyprus fell ill Ḥusām looked after him, and he recovered. Prior to his recovery the king had promised, were he to get well again, to grant him his freedom and to send him back to Muslim territory. By tragic irony, however, Ḥusām himself fell ill with diarrhoea following the king’s recovery, dying after a few days in the year 1270 and so never acquiring his freedom. If this story is true, the Cypriot king he had healed was Hugh III (1267-1284). That Muslim doctors were practising on Cyprus in the second half of the thirteenth century is borne out by the regulations of the Latin archbishopric of Nicosia promulgated under Hugh of Fagiano in a provincial synod held between the years 1252-57, with the fourteenth ruling prohibiting Christians from visiting Muslim or Jewish physicians. This prohibition was reiterated in the tenth ruling passed at the provincial synod held under his successor Archbishop Ranulf in around 1283. Nevertheless, this rule was perhaps honoured more in the breach than the observance.10 The fortunes, or misfortunes, of the Muslim captives living in Cyprus excited the attention of Ibn Taymiyya, a Ḥanbalite jurist and theologian from Syria whose life (1263-1328) spans practically the whole period under discussion in this paper. Between the years 1303-1304 he wrote a letter to a Latin lord resident in Cyprus following the loss of all Latin territories in Syria to the Mamlūks by 1291. In it he asks him to ensure that the Muslim captives in Cyprus awaiting ransom should be treated well. The lord in question was probably John II the titular lord of Jubail, although it has also been suggested that the letter’s recipient could have been either King Henry II of Cyprus or William de Villaret, the master of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem. The Muslims alluded to in the letter had probably been captured during Christian raids along the coasts of Syria and Palestine between the years 1299 and 1303, when the Mongols ruling Persia and Iraq invaded Syria several times. The raid recounted above in the chronicle of “Amadi”, in the course of which 30 Muslims on board a ship sailing from Alaya to Alexandria were captured, is a case in point.11 Turning to the letter itself, one sees that the treatment of the Muslim captives is addressed in the second part, the first part explaining the superiority of Islam and the historical corruption of Christianity according to its author. Ibn Taymiyya recounts how he himself helped secure the release of Christian captives held by the Mongols Ghazan and Qutlushāh. When moreover, the Mongol commander Muhlay informed him that he had released Muslim captives but not Christians brought back from Jerusalem Ibn Taymiyya responded that they too should be released. He relates how Christian captives in Muslim hands are treated with 10 Chypre dans les sources arabes, 83 and 88; The Synodicum Nicosiense and other DocumentsoftheLatinChurchofCyprus, ed. Christopher Schabel (Nicosia: Cyprus Research Centre, 2001), pp. 96-97 and 130-133. 11 Diego Sarrio Cucarella, “Corresponding across Religious Borders: The Letter of Ibn Taymiyya to a Crusader in Cyprus”, Islamochristiana 36 (2010): 187-212.

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compassion and beneficence in accordance with the injunctions of the Prophet Muhammad, something that also applied to Christians living under Muslim rule. How then, he asked rhetorically, could the Christians inflict treatment on Muslim prisoners that violated the principles of humanity and religious belief? Ibn Taymiyya is careful to add here that this accusation is not directed against the recipient of the letter and his household, but rather against the Christians subject to him in general.12 Further on in the letter, he states that many of the Muslim captives had been seized dishonourably, without stating exactly what he meant by this, although perhaps it is an oblique reference to Christian naval raids against the Mamlūk coastal areas. He goes on to ask, once again rhetorically, how one could lawfully make oneself master of people seized dishonourably. Recounting how formidable the Muslims are in battle, as proven by their victories over both Latin Christians and Mongols, Ibn Taymiyya enjoins the letter’s recipient to ensure that his subjects treat the Muslim captives well and to assist in their deliverance, meaning their return to Muslim territory. Expressing astonishment over the fact that the Christians have captured Muslims, either honourably or dishonourably, and even non-combatant Muslims, despite injunctions in their own faith about turning the other cheek, he states that the more Muslims prisoners the Christians have the greater will be God’s anger and that of His servants. Given the exertions Muslims had undertaken to secure the freedom of those Christians seized by the Mongols, how could they keep silent over the fate of their own captives on Cyprus, especially when these captives were mostly poor and weak persons, having no one to make an effort on their behalf? By way of an example he cited the Muslim ascetic Abū l-῾Abbās, whose ransom following capture had been secured only with difficulty.13 Ibn Taymiyya concludes by observing that God would reward the ruler and recipient of his letter if he secured the release of the captives. He also remarks, however, in overtly threatening language, that more than any other people the Muslims could punish wrongdoers as well as reward benefactors. Woe betided those making war on them, for even when fewer the Muslims had defeated the Christians on numerous occasions. Finally, Ibn Taymiyya pointed out that the Christians held captive in Muslim lands were more numerous and more valuable on account of the high social status some of them had than the Muslims held captive in Cyprus, a reference to the numerous Christians captured at the fall of Acre in 1291, but also more recently when the Mamlūks captured the Templars on the island of Ruad in 1304, taking 120 Templar knights, 500 archers and 400 men and women captive. The Templar knights made captive were sent to 12 Ibn Taymiyya, Lettreàunroicroisé(al-Risālatal-Qubrusiyya), ed. and trans. Jean R. Michot (Louvain-la-Neuve: Tawhid - Lyon: Bruylant Academia, 1995), pp. 174-175 and 185-186. 13 Lettreàunroi, 186 and 193-195.

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Egypt. Al-Maqrīzī recounts how a Christian captive released in around 1303-1304 following a written request from the King of Aragon delivered by an embassy of his to Cairo was subsequently seized anew and kept in custody because another prisoner told the sultan that the person released could have commanded a ship filled with gold as a ransom.14 Whether Ibn Taymiyya’s letter had any effect on the treatment or release of Muslim captives held in Cyprus is not known. It is noteworthy, however, that his assertion that Christians held captive by the Muslims were treated humanely is confirmed by a contemporary of his on Cyprus, and one none other than King Henry II of Cyprus himself. He compared the harsh conditions of confinement following his overthrow in 1306 by his brother Amaury the lord of Tyre and the nobles and clergy supporting him to the generous treatment the Muslims had accorded Christian rulers captured by them: “He then recounted to them the cases of three kings who had been captured in battle and in feats of arms and who had not been subjected to such restrictions as he had been but were free to ride and to come and go hunting, which he was not able to do. When the king of Armenia was captured by the Saracens, who were infidels, they did not hold him in such miserable conditions, but kept him with others; they honoured and esteemed him, doing as many favours as they could for him, allowing him to ride and go hunting whenever he wished and permitting him to take such delights as he could take to his own land, and they provided for his expenses abundantly. The Saracens acted similarly towards the king of France, who had caused much damage and ill will and had come from his country to Syria expressly in order to destroy and annihilate the lands of the pagans and use his forces to recover the Holy Land, where he was captured by the infidels. Likewise a great count from Germany was captured by the sultan Baybars, and the sultan allowed him to have his own chaplain and his cook and his whole household to serve him after his own fashion and according to the custom of the Christians. “And the same was done for the king of France when he was captured, and he was granted more generous expenses than you have granted me who was not taken in battle; rather, you have deprived me of my rule and my treasure out of your malice”.

In the above passage, King Henry II was referring in the first instance possibly to the captivity of King Leo II of Cilician Armenia in 1266, prior to becoming king, in the second instance to King Louis IX of France, taken captive in Egypt in 1250, and in the third instance possibly to Lord Henry I of Mecklenburg in Germany, taken captive in 1273 and not released until 1297.15 All the examples cited by the king fall well within the period under discussion and concern Christian kings or nobles held in captivity by the Mamlūks. Ibn Taymiyya referred 14

Lettreàunroi, 196-202 and note 133. “Chronique d’Amadi”, 317-318; Angus D. Stuart, TheArmenianKingdomandtheMamluks: WarandDiplomacyduringtheReignsofHet‘umII(1289-1307) (Leiden: Brill, 2001), pp. 48-49; Hans E. Mayer, “Two Crusaders out of Luck”, Crusades 11 (2012): 159-71. 15

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to none of them in his own letter to Lord John II of Jubail. Nonetheless, he would probably have agreed with the sentiments expressed by his royal Christian contemporary, from whom he was separated geographically by only a short stretch of water. NICHOLAS COUREAS Cyprus Research Center Nicosia

THE MEANING OF “BEAUTY” (JAMĀL) IN THE MUQADDIMA OF IBN KHALDŪN

My purpose is to analyse the meaning of the word jamāl (beauty) in the Muqaddima of Ibn Khaldūn (d. 1406). Two years ago, on the occasion of the 2013 edition of this colloquium I gave a presentation on “The Philosophical Basis of Ibn Kaldūn’s Poetics”1. Afterwards I broadened my analysis to the aesthetic views expressed by Ibn Khaldūn in the Muqaddima. At this stage it would be premature to draw general conclusions on the esthetics of Ibn Khaldūn. The purpose of the present article is the description and analysis of what Ibn Khaldūn intends by jamāl. In which sense do I use the word “aesthetics”? By aesthetics I do not intend a theory of art but more generally a sufficiently systematic reflection on sensible and intelligible beauty, including its tight relationship with the notions of “good”, of “true”, of “existing” and “real”, that is to say with ethics, philosophy, crafts and sciences, with sensual, rational, immanent and transcendent knowledge. For a long time it was believed that the Middle Ages did not have aesthetics. Indeed aesthetics was established as an autonomous discipline in the 18th century by Alexander Baumgarten (d. 1762)2, who, however, by doing so, drastically narrowed its borders. In the mid-twentieth century the works of Edgar de Bruyne3, Umberto Eco4, Władysław Tatarkiewicz5 and others on Western medieval aesthetics showed that “it is not the Middle Ages that did not have aesthetics. It is the modern world that has a too narrow one”6. From the nineties of the twentieth century a number of works on the medieval aesthetics of the Arab and Islamic world have also been published. The studies of Gianroberto 1

Giovanna Lelli, “We come from afar. The Philosophical Basis of Ibn Khaldūn’s Poetics”, in EgyptandSyriaintheFatimid,AyyubidandMamlukEras, eds. Urbain Vermeulen, Kristof D’hulster and Jo Van Steenbergen [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume CCXLIV] (Leuven: Peeters, 2016), pp. 429-440. 2 Alexander Baumgarten, Aesthetica, trans. Salvatore Tedesco, L’EsteticadiAlexanderBaumgarten (Palermo: Università degli Studi di Palermo, 2000). Incomplete work composed between 1750 and 1758, in Latin. Alexander Baumgarten, Methaphysica, trans. Courtney D. Fugate and John Hymers, Metaphysics (London – New Delhi – New York – Sidney: Bloomsbury, 2013). In Latin. First Latin edition 1739. 3 Edgar De Bruyne, Etudesd’esthétiquemédiévale, volumes I-III (Brugge: De Tempel, 1946). 4 Umberto Eco, IlproblemaesteticoinTommasod’Aquino (Milano: Bompiani, 1982). This work appeared as a master dissertation in 1954, and was first published in 1956. 5 Wladyslaw Tatarkiewicz, Storiadell’estetica, volumes I-III (Torino: Einaudi, 1979-1980). First Polish edition published between 1960 and 1967. 6 Eco, IlproblemaesteticoinTommasod’Aquino, 22.

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Scarcia7, Doris Behrens-Abouseif8, Valérie Gonzales9 and Oliver Leaman10, although with different approaches and focuses, all benefitted from the enormous progress previously made in the field of Western medieval aesthetics. Therefore they no longer needed to justify the legitimacy and relevance of the Arab-Islamic medieval aesthetics as a field of enquiry11. In the Muqaddima of Ibn Khaldūn the word jamāldoes not occupy the semantic field of “beauty” alone, which is filled by a number of other terms, like khayr and ḥusn, to quote only the most evident ones. Jamāl is rather a rare word. It occurs only eight times in the whole book. Khayr and ḥusn are much more often used in reference to beauty. The peculiarity of jamāl is that, unlike ḥusn and khayr, itrefers exclusively to sensual beauty. Therefore I believe that its analysis is the most concrete starting point for the study of the aesthetic views of Ibn Khaldūn in theMuqaddima. Jamāl produces pleasure (ladhdha) to the ears through music, to the eyes through forms and colors, to the smell through fragrances and to the taste through flavors. Sensual beauty exerts a great attraction upon man. Its effects can be positive or negative. Therefore it can be dangerous. It has a strong impact on the human soul and pushes man to act in an uncontrolled and unusual manner. Sensual beauty needs to be regulated by the criteria of proportion and harmony (talā’um, tanāsub), conformity and convenience (muṭābaqa). Beauty needs a good purpose (gharaḍ, qaṣd) and must not exceed the borders of moderation (qaṣd, tawassuṭ i‘tidāl). Otherwise it becomes a source of error and perdition religiously, ethically and philosophically. Ibn Khaldūn employs the word jamāl in the following four contexts: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Referring to lust and heretical behaviors. Referring to dynasties losing their splendor in their way to inevitable decay. Referring to harmony and proportion in music. Referring to rhetoric embellishments of speech (‘ilm al-badī‘)

1. SENSUAL BEAUTY (JAMĀL) AS REFERRED TO LUST AND HERETICAL BEHAVIORS Ibn Khaldūn mentions the irresistible attraction of the beauty of the female body and the splendor of material luxury as a dangerous temptation to lascivious and heretical behaviors. This theme appears for instance when he considers 7 Gianroberto Scarcia, IlvoltodiAdamo.Laquestioneesteticanell’altrooccidente (Venezia: Il Cardo, 1995). 8 Doris Behrens-Abouseif, BeautyinArabicCulture (Princeton: Markus Wiener Publishers, 1999). 9 Valérie Gonzales, BeautyandIslam.AestheticsinIslamicArtandArchitecture (London New York: I. B. Tauris Publishers, in association with the Institute for Ismaili Studies, 2001). 10 Oliver Leaman, Islamic Aesthetics. An Introduction (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2004). 11 Francesco Gabrieli, Gustave von Grunebaum and other orientalists of previous generations had already analysed Arab and Islamic literary aesthetics.

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various types of false historical information (kadhib) that occurs in those historical sources that attribute impious behaviors to Arab personalities of the highest moral and religious integrity, like the caliphs Hārūn al-Rashīd (d. 809) and al-Ma’mūn (d. 833). In this respect Ibn Khaldūn strongly rejects the reliability of the historian Ibn ‘Abdrabbih who reported that al-Ma’mūn one night was walking down the streets of Baghdād, then seated himself in a basket let down from one of the roofs, was taken up into a chamber luxuriously furnished (jamāl ru’yatuhu) and there spent a night with a woman of extraordinary beauty (rā’iqat al-jamāl). A similar reported event, known as the story of the basket, is totally unlikely and unreliable if one takes into account “the circumstances” (ḥāl, pl. aḥwāl) of the personality of al-Ma’mūn. “A similar story is the one about the basket reported by Ibn ῾Abdrabbih, author of the ῾Iqd,in explanation of how al-Ma᾿mūn came to be al-Ḥasan b. Sahl’s son-in-law by marrying his daughter Burān. One night, on his rambles through the streets of Baghdād, al-Ma’mūn is said to have come upon a basket that was being let from one of the roofs by means of pulleys and twisted cords of silk thread. He seated himself in the basket and grabbed the pulley, which started moving. He was taken up into a chamber of such-and-such a condition. Ibn ῾Abdrabbih described theeye andsoul-fillingsplendorofitscarpets,themagnificenceofitsfurnishings,andthe beautyofitsappearance.Then,awomanofextraordinary,seductivebeautyissaid tohavecomeforthfrombehindcurtainsinthatchamber.Shegreetedal-Ma᾿mūn andinvitedhimtokeephercompany.Hedrankwinewithherthewholenightlong. Inthemorninghereturnedtohiscompanionsattheplacewheretheyhadbeen awaitinghim.Hehadfallensomuchinlovewiththewomanthatheaskedherfather forherhand. How does all this accord with al-Ma᾿mūn’s well-known religion and learning, with his imitation of the way of life of his forefathers, the right-guided (῾Abbāsid) caliphs, with his adoption of the way of life of those pillars of Islam, the (first) four caliphs, with his respect for the religious scholars, or his observance in his prayers and legal practice of the norms established by God! Howcouldit becorrectthathewouldactlike(oneofthose)wickedscoundrelswhoamusethemselvesbyramblingaboutatnight,enteringstrangehousesinthedark,andengaging innocturnaltrystsinthemannerofBedouinlovers! And how does that story fit with the position and noble character of al-Ḥasan b. Sahl’s daughter, and with the firm morality and chastity that reigned in her father’s house!”12 ‫و من أمثال هذه الحكايات ما نقله ابن عبد ربه صاحب العقد من حديث الزنبيل في سبب إصهار‬ ‫المأمون إلى الحسن بن سهل في بنته بوران و أنه عثر في بعض الليالي في تطوافه بسكك بغداد‬ ‫في زنبيل مدلى من بعض السطوح بمعالق و جدل مغارة الفتل من الحرير فاعتقده و تناول المعالق‬ ‫فاهتزت و ذهب به صعد ًا إلى مجلس شأنه كذا و وصف من زينة فرشه و تنصيد ابنته و جمال‬ ‫رؤيته ما يستوقف الطرف و يملك النفس و أن امرأة برزت له من خلل الستور في ذلك المجلس‬ ‫رائقة الجمال فتانة المحاسن فحيته و دعته إلى المنادمة فلم يزل يعاقرها الخمر حتى الصباح و‬ ‫رجع إلى أصحابه بمكانهم من انتظاره و قد شغفته حب ًا بعثه على الإصهار إلى أبيها و أين هذا كله‬ 12 Ibn Khaldūn (d. 1406), Muqaddima, trans. Franz Rosenthal, TheMuqaddima.AnIntroductiontoHistory, volumes I-III (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1967), I: 39-40. Italics are mine.

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‫من حال المأمون المعروفة في دينه و علمه و اقتفائه سنن الخلفاء الراشدين من آبائه و أخذه بسير‬ ‫ أحكامه فكيف‬،‫الخلفاء الأربعة أركان الملة و مناظرته العلماء و حفظه لحدود ﷲ تعالى في صلواته‬ ‫تصح عنه أحوال الفساق المستهترين في التطواف بالليل و طروق المنازل و غشيان السمر سبيل‬ ‫عشاق الأعراب و أين ذلك من منصب ابنة الحسن بن سهل و شرفها و ما كان بدار أبيها من‬ 13 ‫الصون و العفاف‬

The purpose of Ibn Khaldūn in this passage is not to speak about beauty, but to criticise erroneous historiographical reports relying upon imaginary “stories”, elsewhere defined as khurāfāt and qiṣaṣ. His purpose is to affirm the value of his own “new” (mustaḥdath, mustanbaṭal-nash᾿a) historical method, scientific and demonstrative, relying upon the accordance (muṭābaqa) of every event (ḥādith) with its specific circumstances and conditions (al-aḥwāl). However, as a matter of fact, Ibn Khaldūn provides us with important information on his aesthetic views. Sensual beauty can be a dangerous temptation inducing man to lascivious and heretical behaviors. Sensual beauty and its effects are opposed to religion (dīn), learning (῾ilm), nobility and honor (sharaf), morality (ṣawn) and chastity (῾afāf). Those who attribute such behaviors to personalities well known for their moral integrity, do so because they are themselves inclined to such forbidden behaviors. “The incentive for inventing and reporting them is a (general) inclination to forbidden pleasures and for smearing the reputation of others. People justify their own subservience to pleasure by citing men and women of the past (who allegedly did the same things they are doing). Therefore, they often appear very eager for such information and are alert to find it when they go through the pages of (published) works. If they would follow the example of the people (of the past) in other respects and in the qualitiesofperfection that were theirs and for which they are well known, it would be better for them, if they would know.”14 ‫أمثال هذه الحكايات كثيرة و في كتب المؤرخين معروفة و إنما يبعث على وضعها و الحديث بها‬ ‫الانهماك في اللذات المحرمة و هتك قناع المخدرات و يتعللون بالتأسي بالقوم فيما يأتونه من‬ ‫طاعة لذاتهم فلذلك تراهم كثير ًا ما يلهجون بأشباه هذه الأخبار و ينقرون عنها عند تصفحهم لأوراق‬ ‫الدواوين و لو ائتسوا بهم في غير هذا من أحوالهم و صفات الكمال اللائقة بهم المشهورة عنهم‬ ‫ و لقد عذلت يوم ًا بعض الأمراء من أبناء الملوك في كلفه بتعلم‬.‫لكان خير ًا لهم لو كانوا يعلمون‬ ‫الغناء و ولوعه بالأوتار و قلت له ليس هذا من شأنك و لا يليق بمنصبك فقال لي أفلا ترى إلى‬ ‫إبراهيم بن المهدي كيف كان إمام هذه الصناعة و رئيس المغنين في زمانه فقلت له يا سبحان ﷲ‬ ‫و هلا تأسيت بأبيه أو أخيه أو ما رأيت كيف قعد ذلك بإبراهيم عن مناصبهم فصم عن عذلي و‬ 15 ‫أعرض و ﷲ يهدي من يشاء‬

13 Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, ed. Khalīl Shaḥāda, Muqaddima Ibn Khaldūn (Beirut: Dār alFikr, 2001), pp. 26-27. 14 Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, trans. Rosenthal, I: 40. Italics are mine. 15 Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, ed. Shaḥāda, 27.

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These passages confirm that In the Middle Ages, East and West, “the aesthetical battle was fought to demonstrate that the beautiful is not something different from the good (exactly the opposite of what the Moderns would do)”16. 2. SENSUAL BEAUTY (JAMĀL) AS REFERRED TO DYNASTIES LOSING THEIR SPLENDOR ON THEIR WAY TO DECAY

A second case in which Ibn Khaldūn employs the word jamāl is when he refers to dynasties losing their “pomp and beauty” (al-abhawal-jamāl) on their way to decay (khalal), according to his naturalist and organic view of history. Civilizations, like the human body, are born, grow, flourish, decay and perish. Jamāl in this context refers to the luxury and the sensual beauty that, sooner or later, inevitably corrupt all civilizations and extinguish their vigor and strength, until they fall under the domination of aggressors, or “continue to dwindle and finally disappear like the wick of a lamp when the oil is exhausted, and it goes out”17. “At this stage, the tax collectors in the dynasty have acquired much wealth, because vast revenues are in their hands and their position has widened in importance for this reason. Suspicions of having appropriated tax money, therefore, attach to them. It becomes common for one tax collector to denounce another, because of their mutual jealousy and envy. One after another is deprived of his money by confiscation and torture. Eventually,theirwealthisgone,andtheyareruined.Thedynasty losesthepompandmagnificenceithadpossessedthroughthem. After their prosperity is destroyed, the dynasty goes farther afield and approaches its other wealthy subjects. At this stage, feebleness has already afflicted its (former) might. (The dynasty) has become too weak to retain its power and forceful hold. The policy of the ruler, at this time, is to handle matters diplomatically by spending money. He considers this more advantageous than the sword, which is of little use. His need for money grows beyond what is needed for expenditures and soldiers’ salaries. He never gets enough. Senilityaffectsthedynastymoreandmore. The people of (other) regions grow bold against it. At each of these stages, the strength of the dynasty crumbles. Eventually, it reaches complete ruin. It is open to domination by (any) aggressor. Anyonewhowantstoattackitcantakeitawayfromthosewho supportit.Ifthisdoesnotoccur,itwillcontinuetodwindleandfinallydisappear likethewickofalampwhentheoilisexhausted,anditgoesout.God owns all things and governs the whole creation. There is no God but Him.”18 ‫أموال الرعايا من مكس أو تجارة أو نقد في بعض الأحوال بشبهة أو بغير شبهة و يكون الجند في‬ ‫ذلك الطور قد تجاسر على الدولة بما لحقها من الفشل و الهرم في العصبية فتتوقع ذلك منهم و‬ ‫تداوى بسكينة العطايا و كثرة الإنفاق فيهم و لا تجد عن ذلك وليجة و تكون جباة الأموال في‬ ‫الدولة قد عظمت ثروتهم في هذا الطور بكثرة الجباية و كونها بأيديهم و بما اتسع لذلك من‬ 16 17 18

Eco, IlProblemaesteticoinTommasod’Aquino, 31. Translation is mine. Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, trans. Rosenthal, II: 124. Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, trans. Rosenthal, II: 123-124. Italics are mine.

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‫ بعضهم من بعض للمنافسة‬،‫جاههم فيتوجه إليهم باحتجان الأموال من الجباية و تفشو السعاية فيهم‬ ‫و الحقد فتعمهم النكبات و المصادرات واحدا واحدا إلى أن تذهب ثروتهم و تتلاشى أحوالهم و‬ ‫يفقد ما كان للدولة من الأبهة و الجمال بهم و إذا اصطلمت نعمتهم تجاوزتهم الدولة إلى أهل‬ ‫الثروة من الرعايا سواهم و يكون الوهن في هذا الطور قد لحق الشوكة و ضعفت عن الاستطالة و‬ ‫القهر فتنصرف سياسة صاحب الدولة حينئذ إلى مداراة الأمور ببذل المال و يراه أرفع من السيف‬ ‫لقلة غنائه فتعظم حاجته إلى الأموال زيادة على النفقات و أرزاق الجند و لا يغنى فيما يريد و يعظم‬ ‫الهرم بالدولة و يتجاسر عليها أهل النواحي و الدولة تنحل عراها في كل طور من هذه إلى أن تفضي‬ ‫إلى الهلال و تتعوض من الاستيلاء الكلل فإن قصدها طالب انتزعها من أيدي القائمين بها و إلا‬ ‫بقيت و هي تتلاشى إلى أن تضمحل كالذبال في السراج إذا فني زيته و طفئ و ﷲ مالك الأمور‬ 19 ‫و مدبر الأكوان لا إله إلا هو‬

3. SENSUAL BEAUTY (JAMĀL) AS REFERRED TO IN HARMONY (TANĀSUB) AND PROPORTION (TALĀ’UM) IN MUSIC Ibn Khaldūn mentions the word jamāl in the most extensive way when he deals with singing (ghinā’) and music (mūsīqā). Music is harmony of sounds. Harmony produces pleasure (ladhdha) and exerts attraction. Not only harmony of sounds, but also harmony of forms, colors, tastes and flavors are pleasant and attractive. This is because the human being is naturally (bifiṭratihi) attracted by what is harmonious and proportionate. Proportionate objects are in harmony with the soul that perceives them. There is “correspondence” and “harmony” (talā’um, tanāsub) between the human soul and harmonious objects. “Beauty means” (“the meaning of beauty”, ma῾nā al-jamālwal-ḥusn) the harmony of forms (ashkāl, takhāṭīṭ) of a sensual object that conforms to its specific matter (mādda) in a perfectly proportionate way. The reason why the soul is attracted by beautiful objects is that they are in a relationship of harmony and proportion with it. The following two passages of the Muqaddima are a good example of how Medieval Islam assimilated at once the Pythagorean, the Platonic and the Aristotelian notions of beauty, then digested synthetized and reinterpreted them through the filter of Neo-Platonism and Sufism. “If an object of vision is harmonious in the forms and lines given to it in accordance with the matter from which it is made, so that the requirements of its particular matter as to perfect harmony and arrangement are not disregarded that being the meaning of beauty and loveliness whenever these terms are used for any object of sensual perception that (object of vision) is then in harmony with the soul that perceives (it), and the soul, thus, feels pleasure as the result of perceiving something that is agreeable to it.”20 19 20

Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, ed. Shaḥāda, 366-367. Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, trans. Rosenthal, II: 397-398.

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‫و أما المرئيات و المسموعات فالملائم فيها تناسب الأوضاع في أشكالها و كيفياتها فهو أنسب‬ ‫ فإذا كان المربي متناسب ًا في أشكاله و تخاطيطه التي له بحسب مادته‬.‫عند النفس و أشد ملاءمة لها‬ ‫بحيث لا يخرج عما تقتضيه مادته الخاصة من كمال المناسبة و الوضع و ذلك هو معنى الجمال‬ 21 ‫ كان ذلك حينئذ مناسب ًا للنفس المدركة فتلتذ بإدراك ملائمها‬.‫و الحسن في كل مدرك‬

This is why, continues Ibn Khaldūn, lovers want to unite with the beloved one and the “[Neo-Platonic] philosophers” (al-ḥukamā᾿ al-ilāhiyūn) say that all beings want to unite with the “Principle” (al-mabda᾿) and the “Universe” (al-kawn). “For this reason passionate lovers express their love as their desire to melt their soul in the beloved’s soul. It is a mystery that only lovers understand, that is to say the identity with the Principle. If you look carefully around you, you see that there is an identity in the beginning between yourself and all things, which is a clear sign that we all are one with the universe. In other terms all of existence participates in being, as the philosophers say. Therefore everyone wants to melt with something in which he sees perfection, in order to become one with it. The soul wants to get rid of chimeras in order to attain Truth, which is the identity between the universe and its Principle.”22 ‫يعبرون عن غاية محبتهم و عشقهم بامتزاج أرواحهم‬ ّ ‫و لهذا تجد العاشقين المسته ِترين في المحبة‬ َ ْ ‫كنت من أهله و هو اتحاد المبدأ و‬ ْ ‫سر تفهمه‬ ‫إن كان ما ِسواك إذا‬ ‫إن‬ َ ّ ‫ و في هذا‬.‫بروح المحبوب‬ ً ‫ يشهد لك به اتحاد كما في الكون و معناه من‬.‫البداءة‬ ‫في‬ ‫ا‬ ‫اتحاد‬ ‫بينه‬ ‫رأيت بينك و‬ ‫نظرت َُه و تأ ّمل َت ُه‬ َ َ ٍ ‫بمشاهدات فيه‬ ‫ ف َت َودُّ أن تمتزج‬.‫وج ٍه آخر أن الوجود يش ِرك بين الموجودات كما تقوله الحكماء‬ ٍ ‫حينئذ الخروج عن الوهم إلى الحقيقة التي هي اتحاد المبدأ و‬ ‫ بل ُتروم النفس‬،‫الكمال لتتحد به‬ 23 ‫الكون‬

The beauty and harmony of music also has a positive sense when it acts irrationally on the human soul and generates virtue in man. It generates courage in the warriors who become eager to die (istamāta) when they hear their poets singing verses. “But the truth is that listening to music and sounds no doubt causes pleasure and emotion in the soul. The spiritual temper of man is thereby affected by a kind of drunkenness, which causes him to make light of difficulties and to be willing to die in the very condition in which he finds himself. This (state of affairs) exists even in dumb animals. Camels are influenced by the driver’s call, and horses are influenced by whistling and shouting, as everyone knows. The effect is greater when the sounds are harmonious ones, as in the instance of music. It is known what happens to people who listen to music. The non-Arabs, therefore, take musical instruments, drums or trumpets, onto the battlefield with them. Singers with instruments surround the cavalcade of the ruler and sing. Thus, they move the souls of brave men 21

Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, ed. Shaḥāda, 536. The free translation of this passage is mine. See Ibn Khaldūn,Muqaddima,trans. Rosenthal, II: 398. 23 Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, ed. Shaḥāda, 536. 22

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emotionally and cause them to be willing to die. In the wars of the Arabs (in northwestern Africa), we have seen persons in front of the cavalcade sing poetical songs and make music. The minds of heroes were stirred by the contents of the songs. They hurried to the battleground, and everybody went forth eagerly to meet his rival. The same was the case with the Zanāta, one of the nations of the Maghrib. A poet went in advance of the battle lines and sang. His music was such as to move firmly anchored mountains and to cause men who would otherwise not think of it, to seek death. That music is called tazugait [tāṣūkāyit] by (the Zanāta). The origin of it all is the cheerfulness created in the soul (through music). It leads to bravery, just as drunkenness leads to (bravery), as the result of the cheerfulness, which it produces. And God knows better.”24 ‫و الحق في ذلك فهو أن النفس عند سماع النغم و الأصوات يدركها الفرح و الطرب بلا شك‬ ‫فتصيب مزاج الروح نشوة يستسهل بها الصعب و يستميت في ذلك الوجه الذي هو فيه و هذا‬ ‫موجود حتى في الحيوانات العجم بانفعال الإبل بالحداء و الخيل بالصفير و الصريخ كما علمت‬ ‫و يريد ذلك تأثير ًا إذا كانت الأصوات متناسبة كما في الغناء و أنت تعلم ما يحدث لسامعه من‬ ‫مثل هذا المعنى لأجل ذلك تتخذ العجم في مواطن حروبهم الآلات الموسيقية لا طبل ًا و لا بوق ًا‬ ‫فيحدق المغنون بالسلطان في موكبه بآلاتهم و يغنون فيحركون نفوس الشجعان بضربهم إلى‬ ‫الاستماتة و لقد رأينا في حروب العرب من يتغنى أمام الموكب بالشعر و يطرب فتجيش همم‬ ‫الأبطال بما فيها و يسارعون إلى مجال الحرب و ينبعث كل قرن إلى قرنه و كذلك زناتة من أمم‬ ‫المغرب يتقدم الشاعر عندهم أمام الصفوف و يتغنى فيحرك بغنائه الجبال الرواسي و يبعث على‬ ‫الاستماتة من لا يظن بها و يسمون ذلك الغناء تاصو كايت و أصله كأنه فرح يحدث في النفس‬ 25 ‫فتنبعث عنه الشجاعة كما تنبعث عن نشوة الخبر بما حدث عنها من الفرح و ﷲ أعلم‬

Because of its irrational effects on the soul, the beauty of music can play a positive but also a negative role. It depends on its purpose. Music can lead to a loss of consciousness, similar to a state of drunkenness and joy, and “joy and gladness are due to expansion and diffusion of the animal spirit (al-rūḥ al-ḥayawānī)”26. This physical phenomenon is facilitated by heat, as the emotionalism and feeling for music of the Negroes show. “Negroes are in general characterized by levity, excitability, and great emotionalism. They are found eager to dance whenever they hear a melody”27. The beauty of sounds plays a dangerous role in the case of the psalmody of the Qur᾿ān. In this case it must not be called “music”. The melodious reading of the Qur᾿ān is so sweet that people may be seduced by its beauty, forget their fear of God and take the Qur᾿ān as music for parties and banquets. This is why “Mālik disapproved of the use of melodies in reciting the Qur’ān, and al-Shāfi῾ī permitted it”.28 24 25 26 27 28

Ibn Ibn Ibn Ibn Ibn

Khaldūn,Muqaddima, Khaldūn, Muqaddima, Khaldūn,Muqaddima, Khaldūn,Muqaddima, Khaldūn,Muqaddima,

trans. Rosenthal, II: 48-49. ed. Shaḥāda, 319-320. trans. Rosenthal, I: 174. trans. Rosenthal, I: 174. trans. Rosenthal, II: 399.

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“Thus, melodious music can, by no means, be combined with the pronunciation under consideration in connection with the Qur᾿ān. As regards the difference of opinion (among authorities as to the permissibility of melodious music for the recitation of the Qur᾿ān), the thing (the authorities) have in mind is the plain music to which nature guides the person who is musical (miḍmār), as we have stated. Such a person arranges his sounds in certain harmonious cadences, which those who know about singing, as well as others, perceive (as music). This is the point about which the difference of opinion (revolves). The obvious (fact) is that the Qur᾿ān is (to be) kept free of it, (exactly) as the imam (Mālik) thought. The Qur᾿ān is something that causes awe, as it reminds (man) of death and what comes after it. It is not an occasion to give pleasure in the perception of beautiful sounds.”29 ‫فلا يمكن اجتماع التلحين و الأداء المعتبر في القرآن بوجه و إنما مرادهم التلحين البسيط الذي‬ ‫يهتدي إليه صاحب المضمار بطبعه كما قدمناه فيردد أصواته ترديد ًا على نسب يدركها العالم‬ ‫بالغناء و غيره و لا ينبغي ذلك بوجه و إنما المراد من اختلافهم التلحين البسيط الذي يهتدي إليه‬ ،‫ فيردد أصواته ترديد ًا على نسب يدركها العالم بالغناء و غيره‬،‫صاحب المضمار بطبعه كما قدمناه‬ ‫ و الظاهر تنزيه القرآن عن هذا كله‬.‫ هذا هو محل الخلاف‬.‫و لا ينبغي ذلك بوجه كما قاله مالك‬ ‫كما ذهب إليه الإمام رحمة ﷲ تعالى لأن القرآن محل خشوع بذكر الموت و ما بعده و ليس مقام‬ 30 ‫التذاذ بإدراك الحسن من الأصوات‬

Indeed the beauty of music can be associated with lascivious and heretical behaviors, with parties, wine and illegitimate love, as it is the case for the before-mentioned “story of the basket” attributed by Ibn ῾Abdrabbih to the caliph al-Ma᾿mūn. 4. SENSUAL BEAUTY (JAMĀL) AS REFERRED TO RHETORICAL EMBELLISHMENTS OF SPEECH (AL-BADĪ‘) The last case in which Ibn Khaldūn mentions the word jamāl is when he refers to the rhetorical embellishments of style (al-taḥsīnwal-tazyīn), characteristic of that branch of Arab rhetoric called the “science of badī῾” (‘ilm al-badī῾). Such embellishments give “brilliance to speech and pleasure to the ear, and sweetness and beauty, all in addition to indicating the meaning”31 (wa jamāl kulluhā zā’ida ῾alā al-ifāda)32. Arab literary rhetoric comprehends the “science” of bayān and the “science” of badī῾. The definition of these two sciences differs from according to the authors. For Ibn Khaldūn the badī῾ refers mainly to figures of speech and the bayān to figures of meaning. In any case they are tightly associated. Ibn Khaldūn says that the badī῾ is found represented 29 30 31 32

Ibn Ibn Ibn Ibn

Khaldūn,Muqaddima, Khaldūn,Muqaddima, Khaldūn,Muqaddima, Khaldūn,Muqaddima,

trans. Rosenthal, II: 400. ed. Shaḥāda, 537-538. trans. Rosenthal, III: 402. ed. Shaḥāda, 801.

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in the inimitable speech of the Qur᾿ān (al-kalāmal-mu῾jiz), as in the first two verses of “Sūratal-Layl” (The Night): “By the night when it covers and the day when it reveals itself”33. Here again beauty is dangerous. Badī῾ figures occurred also in pre-Islamic Arab poetry, but “spontaneously and unintentionally” (῾afuwanminghayrqaṣdwalāta῾ammud). Among the early Muslim poets, like Abū Tammām and al-Buḥturī, they occurred “both spontaneously and intentionally” (῾afuwanwaqaṣdan), producing marvels and wonders (῾ajab, ῾ajā᾿ib)34. Ibn Khaldūn warns against the rhetoric and stylistic analysis of the Qur᾿ān in terms of badī῾ and bayān figures. This kind of analysis may be used by unorthodox commentators to deviate people from truth. For instance the great Qur᾿ān commentator al-Zamakhsharī (d. 1144 ca.) used the rules of al-bayān to justify his Mu῾tazilite belief and innovations. Only those who have a solid and unwavering faith can read al-Zamakhsharī without being deviated from the orthodox belief of the Sunna. “This discipline is needed most by Qur’an commentators. Most ancient commentators disregarded it, until Jār Allāh al-Zamakhsharī appeared. When he wrote his Qur’an commentary, he investigated each verse of the Qur᾿an according to the rules of this discipline. This brings out, in part, its inimitability. It gives his commentary greater distinction than is possessed by any other commentary. However, he tried to confirm the articles of faith of the (Mu῾tazila) innovators b deriving them from the Qur’an by means of different aspects of rhetoric (balāgha). Therefore, many orthodox Muslims have been on their guard against his (commentary), despite his abundant knowledge of rhetoric (balāgha). However, there are people who have a good knowledge of the orthodox articles of faith and who have some experience in this discipline. They are able to refute him with his own weapons, or (at least) they know that (his work) contains innovations. They can avoid them, so that no harm is done to their religious beliefs. Such persons do not risk being affected by the innovations and sectarian beliefs. They should study (as Zamakhsharī’s commentary), in order to find out about certain (aspects of) the inimitability of the Qur᾿ān.”35 ‫و أحوج ما يكون إلى هذا الفن المفسرون و أكثر تفاسير المتقدمين غفل عنه حتى ظهر جاز ﷲ‬ ‫الزمخشري و وضع كتابه في التفسير و تتبع آي القرآن بأحكام هذا الفن بما يبدي البعض من‬ ‫إعجازه فانفرد بهذا الفصل على جميع التفاسير لولا أنه يؤيد عقائد أهل البدع عند اقتباسها من‬ ‫ فمن‬.‫ و لأجل هذا يتحاماه كثير من أهل السنة مع وفور بضاعته من البلاغة‬.‫القرآن بوجوه البلاغة‬ ‫أحكم عقائد السنة و شارك في هذا الفن بعض المشاركة حتى يقتدر على الرد عليه من جنس‬ ‫كلامه أو يعلم أنه بدعة فيعرض عنها و لا تضر في معتقده فإنه يتعين عليه النظر في هذا الكتاب‬ 36 ‫ و ﷲ الهادي من يشاء إلى سواء السبيل‬.‫للظفر بشيء من الإعجاز مع السلامة من البدع و الأهواء‬

Qur’ān 92: 1-2 (  َّ‫ والن ََّها ِر إِ َذا ت ََجل‬2 ‫ والل َّْي ِل إِ َذا َيغْ َشى‬1). Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, trans. Rosenthal, III: 402-403. The word badī῾ itself properly means “marvelous, wonderful, new”. 35 Ibn Khaldūn,Muqaddima, trans. Rosenthal III: 338-339. 36 Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima, ed. Shaḥāda, 762-763. 33 34

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CONCLUSION The purpose of my analysis was to describe the meaning of the word jamāl (“beauty”) in the Muqaddima of Ibn Khaldūn. I have gone through the meaning of beauty in four different contexts: lust and heretical behaviors, dynasties on their way to decay, music and literary rhetoric. Jamāl occurs only eight times in the whole book, but it occupies a large semantic field. Although it would be premature to draw general conclusions on Ibn Khaldūn’s aesthetics, we can undoubtedly affirm that the word jamāl opens a window with a large view on the aesthetics of the author of the Muqaddima and on the aesthetics of the culture to which he belonged. GIOVANNA LELLI Ghent University

ASCENSUSBARCOCH(1416): UNE HAGIOGRAPHIE LAÏQUE?

Personnage phare de la période mamlouke, le sultan Barqūq (r. 1382-1389, 1390-1399) est considéré à tort comme le premier souverain circassien, le premier étant al-Malik al-Muẓaffar Baybars al-Jāshnakīr (r. 1309-1310)1. Si sa vie et son règne sont objet de longs développements dans les sources historiques mamloukes, le siennois, Beltramo de Mignanelli lui a consacré une monographie intitulée AscensusBarcoch2,ouvrage qu’il est nécessaire de mettre en perspective avec ceux des auteurs arabes de la période3, voire ultérieurs, mais également avec les Viaggi, récits de voyages de trois pèlerins italiens, Lionardo Frescobaldi, Simone Sigoli et Giorgio Gucci4. C’est lors d’un séjour à Constance en Germanie, alors qu’il assiste au Concile en 1416, qu’à la demande de ses amis B. de Mignanelli s’attelle à la rédaction d’un récit dédié au sultan Barqūq5. Mignanelli avait sans doute évoqué ses séjours en Orient ainsi que sa (ses) rencontre (s) avec le souverain mamlouk6. Cette œuvre 1 Cf. Ibn al-Ṣuqā‘ī (m. en 1326), Tālī kitāb wafayāt al-a‘yān, éd. et trad. J. Sublet (Damas: Institut Français de Damas, 1974), texte arabe, pp. 57-8, n°87, trad. pp. 74-5, n°87; Ibn Taghrī-Birdī (m. en 1470) affirme qu’il était d’origine circassienne (“ Kānajarkasīal-jins ”), Al-Nujūmal-zāhira fīmulūkal-Miṣrwa-al-Qāhira, éd.Muḥammad Ḥusayn Shams al-dīn, volumes I-XVI (Beyrouth: Dār al-kutub al-‘ilmiyya, 1992), VIII: 183; Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Manhalal-ṣāfīwa-al-mustawfī ba‘dal-wāfī, éd. Muḥammad Muḥammad Amīn et al., volumes I-XIII (Le Caire: Dār al-kutub, 1956-2009), III: 467-73, n°718; Ibn Iyās (m. en 1524), Badā’i‘al-zuhūrfīwaqā’i‘al-duhūr, éd. Muḥammad Muṣtafā, volumes I-V (Le Caire: Al-hay’a al-miṣriyya al-‘amma li l-kitāb, 1982-1984), I/1: 423-31. 2 Walter Fischel, “AscensusBarcoch. A latin biography of the mamlūk sultan Barqūq (D. 1399) written by B. de Mignanelli in 1416. Rendered into English with an Introduction and a Commentary”, Arabica 6 (1959) I: 68-71, II: 152-72; Nelly Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’Oriente e la Curia. Beltramo di Leonardo Mignanelli e le sue opere [Nuovi Studi Storici, 91] (Rome: Instituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 2013), AscensusBarcoch, texte latin, pp. 341-78 ainsi que des passages traduits en français par Nicolae Iorga, NotesetExtraitspourServirl’Histoiredes CroisadesauXVesiècle (Paris: E. Leroux, 1899), Appendice II, pp. 329-542. 3 Cf. plus particulièrement Sami G. Massoud, The chronicles and annalistic sources of the earlymamlukCircassianperiod [Islamic History and Civilisation, vol. 67] (Leiden: Brill, 2007) et “Al-Maqrīzī as an Historian of the Reign of Barqūq”, MSR 7/2 (2003): 119-136 ainsi que Jo Van Steenbergen, Orderoutofchaos.Patronage,ConflictandMamlukSocio-politicalCulture 1343-1382 [The Medieval Mediterranean, vol. 65] (Leiden: Brill, 2006). 4 Pour les biographies respectives des trois pèlerins, cf. Antonio Lanza, Marcellina Troncarelli (éds), Pellegrini scrittori. Viaggiatori toscani del Trecento in Terrasanta (Florence: Ponte alle Grazie, 1990), pp. 24-5. Lionardo Frescobaldi est l’auteur du ViaggioinTerrasanta, Giorgio Gucci du ViaggioaiLuoghiSanti, et Simone Sigoli du ViaggioalmonteSinai. 5 Il avait auparavant écrit une VitaTamerlani ou Ruina Damasci. Walter Fischel, “A new Latin source on Tamerlane’s conquest of Damascus (1400-1401) (B. de Mignanelli’s “Vita Tamerlani” 1416)”, Oriens 9 (1956): 201-32. 6 Ce dernier étant donné comme un chrétien renégat, doit-on voir dans cette demande un rapport avec son origine confessionnelle?

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est par ailleurs à replacer dans une période où les récits de voyage commencent à fleurir, bien des pèlerins montrant un intérêt croissant pour les régions qu’ils traversent. Ainsi des informations politiques, sociales et économiques trouventelles leur place dans leurs Viaggi; elles voisinent avec les habituelles évocations des visites aux divers bâtiments religieux (églises, monastères). De passage au Caire en 1384, Frescobaldi, Sigoli et Gucci, à l’instar de Mignanelli, évoquent dans leurs Viaggi respectifs, Barqūq l’homme fort de l’État mamlouk. Le point commun aux quatre récits réside dans l’évocation plus ou moins détaillée du parcours de ce dernier jusqu’à son accession au trône en 1382 au Caire. 1. DES ITALIENS DANS L’ÉTAT MAMLOUK – Brève rencontre: Mignanelli et Barqūq à Damas (1394) Beltramo de Mignanelli est né à Sienne en 13717. Après des études classiques, il se destine au commerce8. Il arrive à Damas en 1393 ayant probablement mis à profit ses divers voyages dans le Dār al-islām pour apprendre l’arabe9. Quand le sultan Barqūq et le commerçant italien B. de Mignanelli se sont-ils rencontrés et à quelle occasion? Apparemment uniquement à Damas en 1394, alors que le souverain se trouvait en Syrie pour combattre Tamerlan. Giacomo della Croce, l’ambassadeur du duc de Milan Gian Galeazzo Visconti, avait obtenu une audience. Barqūq le reçut et Mignanelli fit office d’interprète. Il traduisit les lettres envoyées par le duc en arabe ainsi que la réponse du sultan à ce dernier en latin. Gian Galeazzo Visconti demandait à Barqūq la permission de restaurer la basilique de Bethléem ainsi que la protection des frères du Mont Sion à Jérusalem. Comment expliquer la présence de Mignanelli au camp? Si on se fie à ce qu’il écrit, c’est le souverain qui aurait fait appel à ses services. Il a donc accompagné l’ambassadeur au camp sultanien; toutefois, il est curieux que ce dernier n’ait pas eu un traducteur attaché à son service. Il est donc possible que, outre sa connaissance de l’arabe, les relations du Siennois avec des émirs mamlūks aient plaidé en sa faveur. Cette hypothèse n’est pas à écarter, car ses occupations commerciales le mettaient en rapport avec de nombreuses personnes. De plus 7 Pour la biographie de B. de Mignanelli, voir l’introduction de Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 57-63; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.BeltramodiLeonardoMignanelliele sueopere,pp. 3-87 et Iorga, NotesetExtraitspourServirl’HistoiredesCroisadesauXVesiècle, pp. 529-32. 8 Gian Mario Anselmi, Marta Guerra, “Culture et éducation des marchands (XIIe-XVe siècle)”, dans Culturesitaliennes (XIIe-XVesiècle), éd. Isabelle Heullant-Donat (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2000), pp. 333-42. 9 Cf. Angelo Michele Piemontese, “La lingua araba comparata da Beltramo Mignanelli (Siena 1443)”, ActaOrientaliaAcademiaeScientiarumHungaricae48/1-2 (1995): 155-70.

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Mignanelli connaissait les fils de l’émir Manjak al-Yūsufī (m. en 1375), l’ancien gouverneur de la ville au service duquel Barqūq avait été10. Toutefois, l’entretien s’est-il borné aux traductions? Il est peu probable qu’il se soit déroulé à huis clos, que les deux hommes aient discuté en tête à tête et aient eu le loisir de converser sur des sujets personnels (les origines du sultan, son parcours, son accession au trône). Fait troublant qui vient corroborer ce qui vient d’être dit, Mignanelli n’a pas accompagné l’ambassadeur Giacomo della Croce au Caire, car il ne figurait pas au nombre des interprètes prévus au départ. En conséquence, hormis cette mission ponctuelle de traducteur, il est difficile en l’état d’en dire davantage sur les relations entre Barqūq et Mignanelli. De plus, lorsque ce dernier passe par Le Caire après 1400, le sultan étant décédé depuis environ une année, c’est son fils Faraj qui détient le pouvoir. Faute d’éléments tangibles, on peut difficilement abonder dans le sens de N. Iorga qui affirme que les deux hommes se connaissaient bien ou du moins que Mignanelli avait une bonne connaissance de la vie de Barqūq11. Cette assertion est reprise par W. Fischel qui écrit: “he knew Barqūq personally”12. Le Siennois est en pèlerinage à Jérusalem lorsque Tamerlan attaque la Syrie et la dévaste en 1400. Il retourne à Sienne en mars 1403 et y décède le 26 janvier 1455 à l’âge de 85 ans. – AscensusBarcoch Le titre de l’ouvrage que l’on peut traduire par L’ascensiondeBarqūq laisse supposer que ce n’est pas toute la carrière de l’homme qui va être retracée, mais ses débuts. Or ce n’est pas le cas. L’auteur relate la jeunesse du futur sultan, un temps mamlūk de l’émir Yalbughā al-‘Umarī al-Khāṣṣakī, puis après l’assassinat de ce dernier en 1366, sa vie au service du gouverneur de Damas, l’émir Manjak al-Yūsufī13 pendant deux ans. Il enchaîne ensuite avec son retour au Caire en 1373, son ascension sociale et son arrivée au pouvoir en 1382, suivie quelques années plus tard par la révolte de l’émir Mintash entraînant sa déposition et son emprisonnement en 1389 et enfin son retour sur le trône en 1390. La biographie se clôt sur la mort du sultan en 139914. Ainsi l’auteur ne se limite-t-il pas à la vie 10 Mignanelli mentionne qu’il les connaît, mais il ne les nomme pas (Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 65; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.BeltramodiLeonardoMignanelliele sueopere, texte latin, p. 342). 11 D’après Iorga: “Elle [la biographie] renseigne parfaitement sur les détails de la vie de Barkouk, que Mignanelli connaissait très bien.” Iorga fait-il allusion au sultan ou à sa vie? (Iorga,Noteset ExtraitspourServirl’HistoiredesCroisadesauXVesiècle,p. 531). 12 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 60. 13 Pour Sayf al-dīn Manjak al-Yūsufī al-Nāṣirī al-Turkī al-Silāḥdār (m. en 1375), cf. Van Steenbergen, Orderoutofchaos.Patronage,ConflictandMamlukSocio-politicalCulture.13431382, Appendix II, EffectivePowerHoldersBetween1341and1382,p. 183, n°19. 14 Cf. Th. Maritha Koornwinder-Wijntjes, “Sultan al-Ẓāhir Barqūq as seen by his contemporaries Ibn Khaldūn and Bertrando de Mignanelli”, dans EgyptandSyriaintheFatimid,Ayyubid

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d’un Barqūq jeune, ayant connu l’esclavage, devenu émir, puis sultan, même si la fin de son règne est peu développée. Par ailleurs, cette monographie ne comprend aucun repère temporel, elle ne recèle aucune date. Elle est rédigée en latin, probablement pour permettre aux érudits occidentaux d’avoir un plus large accès au texte que ne l’eût permis l’italien15. Afin que l’œuvre qu’il ambitionne de mener à bien séduise le lectorat, Mignanelli doit lui offrir un dépaysement qui sera à la fois intelligible et plausible, d’où la nécessité de lui proposer quelques repères politico-religieux, géographiques et économiques. Pour faciliter la compréhension du lecteur, de temps à autre le Siennois établit des parallèles avec les pratiques gouvernementales occidentales. Ainsi, lorsque ‘Alī le jeune fils du sultan al-Ashraf Sha‘bān reçoit un émirat, l’auteur compare cette situation avec celles du dauphin en France ou du duc de Calabre à Naples16. Quand il évoque la cérémonie d’investiture de Barqūq au sultanat, à laquelle il n’a pas assisté et qu’il ne décrit pas, mais dont il a probablement entendu parler, il note qu’elle “s’apparente à celle de notre empereur quand il a été élu à Aixla-Chapelle17”. Lorsque le grand émir Barqūq envisage de s’emparer du trône, Mignanelli évoque la réunion du parlamento (parlement), en fait il s’agit de la shūrā (le conseil)18. Enfin, lors de la conversion du jeune esclave à l’islam, plutôt que d’employer le terme musulman, Mignanelli opte pour agarenus (agarène), alors que Frescobaldi emploie saracino (sarrasin), deux termes qui renvoient au vocabulaire utilisé par les auteurs occidentaux19. Les références métriques ou monétaires font systématiquement référence aux pratiques italiennes, voire florentines. Mignanelli signale que la Qubbat al-Naṣr “est située à deux miles italiens hors du Caire20.” Les sommes d’argent sont and Mamluks Eras—VI, éds. Urbain Vermeulen et Kristof D’hulster [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, volume 183] (Leuven: Peeters, 2010), pp. 386-7: “Biography of Barqūq in a nutshell”. 15 Mahmoud Helmy remarque: “PerilMignanelli,illatinoeralasolalinguadellacultura, della litteratura e della conoscenza” (Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, pp. 122-3). Il faut toutefois reconnaître qu’il s’agit d’un latin médiéval mâtiné d’italien, et on peut se demander si tous les érudits ont compris le texte. 16 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 67; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 344. 17 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 74; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 353. 18 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 73; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 352. 19 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 64; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. Beltramo di Leonardo Mignanelli e le sue opere, texte latin, p. 341; Frescobaldi, Viaggio in Terrasanta, p. 181. 20 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 69, 74; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, pp. 347, 353. Cet édifice est évoqué à deux reprises, la Qubbat al-Naṣr était située au nord-est de la Citadelle, cf. Aḥmad b. ‘Alī al-Maqrīzī (m. en 1442), al-Mawā‘iẓ wa-al-i‘tibār bi-dhikr al-khiṭaṭ wa-al-āthār, volumes I-II (Beyrouth: reprint), II: 433; William Popper, Egypt and Syria under the Circassian sultans,

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mentionnées en ducats, exceptionnellement en besants (?) et la galette de pain qui apparaît en rêve à Barqūq est une focàccia21. Par ailleurs, l’équilibre entre la réalité et la fiction nécessite un habile dosage, d’où la nécessité pour l’auteur de prouver de temps à autre la véridicité de ses propos. Après avoir évoqué le “rêve de la focàccia” - qui peut sembler pure affabulation au lecteur - il s’empresse de noter que l’ermite, qui avait fait le même songe que Barqūq, d’après ce qu’on lui avait dit “était encore vivant quand je me trouvais à Damas22.” Des dialogues ponctuent les principales étapes de la vie de Barqūq, rompant la monotonie du récit. Le premier met en scène la rencontre du vieil ermite et de Barqūq suite à leur rêve commun23. Mais c’est la lutte entre ce dernier et Baraka, son frère d’armes devenu son ennemi qui a fasciné Mignanelli. Les échanges verbaux entre les deux hommes animent quelques scénettes, en particulier leur discussion enflammée à propos de leurs relations et de leurs statuts réciproques24. Toutefois, les sources arabes ne s’en font pas l’écho. Les auteurs de ces dialogues sont sans doute des conteurs populaires, et Sigoli dans son Viaggio donne également la parole à Barqūq à deux reprises25. Par ailleurs, Mignanelli s’introduit dans son récit lors des moments-clés. Il interpelle le lecteur à l’issue du combat entre Barqūq et Baraka qui se solde par l’incarcération de ce dernier en ces termes: “Notalectorastuciamcumcolore/ note lecteur l’ingéniosité de la manœuvre26.” Il use du même procédé lorsqu’il conclut son long discours sur l’élimination d’Ibn ‘Arrām et des 4000 esclaves de Baraka. Il l’apostrophe avec un vigoureux: “utvidetis/comme tu le vois [lecteur]”, l’invitant par cette injonction à faire corps avec le récit27. Quant à la forme, AscensusBarcoch, s’apparente de temps à autre à une vita, à une hagiographie laïque mâtinée de légendes urbaines dans laquelle Mignanelli 1382-1468,SystematicNotestoIbnTaghrîBirdî’sChroniclesofEgypt, volumes I-II (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1957), I: 33 et carte 9 (Northeast Cairo), 72. 21 Les références monétaires sont mentionnées en ducats, à une exception près, en besants, Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 67, 69; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.Beltramo diLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, pp. 345, 346. Dans le cas des ducats, Mignanelli donne la somme correspondant à un grade émiral: 6000 ducats pour un émirat de 10, 40 000 ducats pour un émirat de 40 et 200 000 ducats pour un émirat de cent. Les voyageurs florentins notent également les sommes en ducats, cf. Sigoli, ViaggioalmonteSinai, p. 265. 22 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 66; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 343. 23 Ibid. 24 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 69; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 347. 25 Barqūq s’adresse à Baraka, il s’engage “à partager la seigneurie entre eux” (Sigoli, Viaggio almonteSinai, pp. 232, 233). 26 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 70; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 348. 27 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 73; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. Beltramo di Leonardo Mignanelli e le sue opere, texte latin, p. 351. Al-‘Aynī en répertorie 3000, ‘Iqdal-jumānfīta’rīkhahlal-zamān, éd. Islām Yusha‘ Bīnū (Amman: Dār al-Yazurī, 2012), p. 102.

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exprime dès le court prologue son admiration pour le souverain, un homme parti de rien: “L’ascension de Barqūq qui fut vendu comme esclave puis devint sultan d’Égypte et de Syrie sous le nom d’Abū Sa‘īd Barqūq al-Malik al-Ẓāhir, décrit et édité par moi Beltramo de Mignanelli… 28”

Quoi qu’il en soit, cette biographie écrite environ dix-sept années après la mort de Barqūq et environ quatorze ans après le retour de son auteur en Occident n’est pas sans susciter la question de ses sources écrites et orales. Par ailleurs, hormis son héros Barcoch/Barqūq, Mignanelli n’identifie que Iolboga/Yalbughā, Barche/Baraka, Mengek ou Mengeck/Manjak et Bel Horham ou Benharram/Ibn ‘Arrām, des émirs ayant eu un rôle de premier plan dans l’épopée barqūquienne29. Les sultans al-Ashraf Sha‘bān (r. 1363-1377), al-Manṣūr ‘Alī (r. 1377-1381) et al-Ṣāliḥ al-Ḥājjī (r. 1381-1382) jouent les faire-valoir de Barqūq et sont rejetés dans l’anonymat, seule la veuve de Sha‘bān et mère d’al-Ḥājjī, Bagaded ou Baldacha a droit de cité. Il est vrai que c’est elle qui en s’unissant à Barqūq lui permet en 1381 de se rapprocher du trône, lui offrant par le biais de cette union le statut de tuteur du jeune sultan al-Ḥājjī30. Quant aux califes abbassides, alMutawakkil et al-Wathīq, ils sont tenus pour quantité négligeable, étant probablement aux yeux de l’auteur des personnages peu intéressants: le premier pour avoir osé s’opposer à Barqūq, le second pour avoir tenté de le soudoyer afin d’obtenir la place de son parent31. Le traitement réservé aux fils de Manjak, Ibrāhīm, ‘Umar et Faraj, est similaire, Mignanelli se vante de les avoir connus, mais contrairement à leur père, ils n’ont aucune place dans l’histoire, il est donc inutile d’en dire plus à leur sujet32. – L. Frescobaldi, S. Sigoli et G. Gucci, trois pèlerins florentins au Caire (1384) En octobre 1384, trois Florentins, Lionardo Frescobaldi, Simone Sigoli et Giorgio Gucci séjournent au Caire avant de se rendre en Terre Sainte et font connaissance avec l’Orient. Les pèlerins ne parlant pas l’arabe, leur unique source 28 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 64; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 342; Iorga, NotesetExtraitspour Servirl’HistoiredesCroisadesauXVesiècle,p. 532. 29 D’après Mignanelli, le seul rival sérieux, par ailleurs anonyme, de Barqūq arguera de son âge pour lui laisser la place (Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 73; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’OrienteelaCuria.BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 352). 30 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 73; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 351. Les autres épouses de Barqūq ne sont pas mentionnées. 31 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 74; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, pp. 352-353. 32 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 65; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 342.

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d’informations reste leur turcimano (interprète) ainsi qu’un certain Simon de Crète que Sigoli a probablement rencontré lors de ses déambulations dans la ville. Simon est un marchand vénitien chrétien installé au Caire. Ce personnage, qu’il est le seul à mentionner, a acquis sa confiance, il le considère comme un témoin crédible33. Les trois Florentins ont rédigé chacun un ViaggioetGucci a terminé la rédaction du sien le 4 octobre 1390. Cette information est capitale, car le manuscrit peut avoir voyagé et Mignanelli en avoir eu connaissance. Environ vingt-six années séparent l’écriture du ViaggioaiLuoghiSanti de la rédaction d’AscensusBarcoch. Les trois hommes arrivent donc au Caire en octobre 1384, soit deux ans après l’accession au trône de Barqūq ainsi que se plaît à le mentionner Frescobaldi34. Ils ne verront jamais le sultan ni ne pourront entrer dans la Citadelle35. Par ailleurs, en 1384, le calife abbasside est al-Wathīq36. Toutefois, les pèlerins n’identifient pas nommément les différents protagonistes de la vie politique mamlouke. L’anonymat est de mise dans leurs récits, qu’il s’agisse du sultan ou du calife, constamment mentionnés comme ilsoldano et ilcaliffooualcaliffo37.

2. BARQŪQ DANS L’ŒIL DE L’AUTRE OU QUAND L’HISTOIRE PRISE EN DÉFAUT… – Des écrits présentant un fond commun Les grandes lignes de la vie de Barqūq avant son accession au pouvoir sont présentes dans AscensusBarcoch et dans les trois Viaggi; toutefois, on observe quelques variantes qui renvoient aux dates d’arrivée des protagonistes en Orient. En effet, si les trois Florentins sont au Caire en 1384, Mignanelli arrive à Damas environ une dizaine d’années plus tard. Les trois voyageurs éprouvent un intérêt particulier pour le parcours singulier de Barqūq. En effet, il est inenvisageable en Occident qu’un esclave étranger, converti au christianisme puisse accéder au trône. Toutefois, tous les quatre s’accordent pour rappeler que Barqūq n’était qu’un jeune garçon quand il fut enlevé, puis vendu au marchand d’esclaves ‘Uthmān 33

Bernadette Martel-Thoumian, “Le sultan circassien Barqūq d’après les relations de voyage de trois pèlerins florentins (1384)”, dans OrientauxetItaliens.ItaliensetOrientaux. Présentation Georges Sidéris et Alessandra Stazzone, Cahiersd’étudesitaliennes 25 (2017): 2-3 . C’est le seul voyage qui comporte une date de fin de rédaction. 34 Frescobaldi, ViaggioinTerrasanta, p. 181. 35 Gucci, ViaggioaiLuoghiSanti, p. 270. 36 Pour la nomination d’al-Wathīq, cf. Jean-Claude Garcin, “Histoire, opposition politique et piétisme traditionnaliste dans le Ḥusnal-muḥāḍarade Suyūṭī”, AnnalesIslamologiques 7 (1967): 59-60. 37 Martel-Thoumian, “Le sultan circassien Barqūq d’après les relations de voyage de trois pèlerins florentins (1384)”, p. 3.

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al-Musāfir qui le céda au grand émir Yalbughā al-‘Umarī al-Khāṣṣakī38, ce dernier l’incorpora dans ses recrues. Le terme mamlūk n’est employé dans aucun des textes, les Florentins privilégient le mot schiavo39 et Mignanelli ceux de servi, sclavorum ou encore sclavos40. Si les pèlerins n’ont pas retenu le mot mamlouk, ce que l’on peut aisément comprendre, comment le Siennois qui a fréquenté le milieu militaire damascain peut-il l’ignorer? En effet, il a vécu suffisamment longtemps à Damas pour faire la différence entre un esclave domestique (‘abd)et un esclave militaire (mamlūk)41. S’agit-il d’un artifice littéraire pour faciliter la compréhension du lectorat, chacun en Occident identifiant immédiatement le statut d’un homme qualifié d’esclave? Cet épisode de la vie de Barqūq et de son émir (armiragio, ammiraglio) est repris en chœur par les Florentins42. S’il y a un point qui fait consensus dans les quatre récits, c’est le statut de renégat (rinnegato) de Barqūq. Tous s’accordent pour voir en lui un chrétien, même si l’Église à laquelle il aurait appartenu et son origine géographique font débat. Barqūq fut-il un chrétien de Grèce ou un Grec chrétien de Circassie43? Pour appuyer ses dires, Mignanelli le mentionne gardant les cochons de son père en Circassie, fonction qu’un musulman ne pouvait exercer en vertu de l’interdit coranique44. Si le Siennois fait de Barqūq un porcher, les auteurs arabes pratiquent le non-dit. En effet, les diverses notices qui lui sont dédiées débutent par: “Kānamamlūkanli-amīrYalbughā(C’étaitunmamloukdel’émirYalbughā…)” 38

Pour Yalbughā al-‘Umarī al-Khāṣṣakī, cf. Aḥmad b. ‘Alī al-Maqrīzī (m. en 1442), Kitāb al-sulūk li-ma‘rifat duwal al-mulūk, éds. Muḥammad Muṣtafā Ziyadā et Sa‘īd ‘Abd al-Fattāḥ ‘Āshūr, volumes I-IV (Le Caire: Dār al-kutub, 1957-1973), III/1: 136-7; Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Nujūm al-zāhirafīmulūkal-Miṣrwa-al-Qāhira, XI: 39-40; Muḥammad b. ‘Abd al-Raḥmān al-Sakhāwī (m. en 1497), Wajīzal-kalāmfīdhayl‘alāduwalal-islām, éds. ‘Awwād Ma‘rūf, ‘Iṣṣām Fāris al-Ḥarastānī et Aḥmad al-Khaymī, volumes I-IV (Beyrouth: Mu’asasat al-risāla, 1995), I:153-5, n°307; ‘Abd al-Bāsiṭ ibn Khalīl al-Ẓāhirī (m. en 1514), Naylal-amalfīdhaylal-duwal, éd. ‘Umar ‘Abd al-Salām Tadmurī, volumes I-IX (Beyrouth: Al-Maktaba al-‘aṣriyya, 2002), I: 390-2 39 Martel-Thoumian, “Le sultan circassien Barqūq d’après les relations de voyage de trois pèlerins florentins (1384)”, p. 3. 40 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 64, 71; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, pp. 341, 348. 41 La servitude du mamlouk est un état transitoire, le temps de le transformer en un militaire s’identifiant à sa nouvelle patrie et à sa nouvelle religion. 42 Martel-Thoumian, “Le sultan circassien Barqūq d’après les relations de voyage de trois pèlerins florentins (1384)”, pp. 3-4. 43 Bernadette Martel-Thoumian, “Portrait du sultan mamlouk Barqūq (784-791/1382-1389; 792-801/1390-1399) en chrétien renégat”, dans Contact and Interaction. Proceedings of the 27th CongressoftheUnionEuropéennedesArabisantsetIslamisants,Helsinki2014, éd. Jaakko Hämeen-Anttila, Petteri Koskikallio et Ilkka Lindstedt [Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, vol. 254] (Leuven: Peeters, 2017): pp. 324-5. 44 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 64, ce dernier indique qu’il gardait des cochons sans plus de précision; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.BeltramodiLeonardoMignanelli elesueopere,texte latin, p. 341; Iorga, NotesetExtraitspourServirl’HistoiredesCroisades auXVesiècle, p. 532 et Martel-Thoumian, “Portrait du sultan mamlouk Barqūq (784-791/13821389; 792-801/1390-1399) en chrétien renégat”, pp. 327-8.

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Le seul à évoquer sa vie d’avant est Al-‘Aynī dans le ‘Iqd.D’après lui, Barqūq travaillait comme garçon de bain dans un hammam de Madīnat Qrim45. Or bon nombre des éphèbes exerçant dans ces établissements se prostituaient à l’occasion. Si ce renseignement est exact, on comprend que les auteurs arabes taisent la jeunesse de Barqūq avant son arrivée sur le sol de l’État mamlouk, ce passé peu conventionnel ne servant pas l’image du personnage. Quant aux pèlerins, ils sont muets sur le sujet. – Des récits comportant des erreurs Le texte de Mignanelli recèle un certain nombre d’erreurs que l’on retrouve dans les Viaggi des Florentins, ce qui sous-entend qu’ils ont probablement bénéficié des mêmes sources d’informations. D’après al-‘Aynī, Yalbughā al-‘Umarī al-Khāṣṣakī aurait acheté Barqūq en 1362-1363, mais quel âge avait ce dernier? Il est difficile de répondre à la question, d’autant que Barqūq s’attribuait en 1396 l’âge de 57 ans, il était donc né en 1339-134046. Il avait donc 22, 23 ans lors de son acquisition par Yalbughā; or le système privilégiait les jeunes garçons et les adolescents. De plus, Yalbughā ayant été assassiné en décembre 1366, cela signifie que Barqūq avait été son mamlouk un peu plus de trois ans. Il avait 26, 27 ans à la mort de son patron et ce dernier l’avait auparavant émancipé (ā‘taqahu). Si cet âge est proche de la réalité, pourquoi Mignanelli affirme-t-il qu’il était trop jeune pour avoir été impliqué dans l’assassinat de son patron? S’agit-il d’un artifice pour l’innocenter du meurtre de Yalbughā, d’un moyen pour rejeter la responsabilité sur ses frères d’armes plus âgés? Il est vrai que l’argument lui permet de justifier le retour de Barqūq au Caire des années plus tard47. Quant aux Florentins, ils répètent ce qu’on leur a raconté. Ainsi Frescobaldi mentionne-t-il qu’il était un fanciullo(un enfant, un jeune garçon) lorsque Yalbughā l’a acheté48. C’était vraisemblablement la version qui circulait au Caire, car Aḥmad b. Yūsuf al-Qaramānī (m. en 1610) la reprend à son compte49. 45 Martel-Thoumian, “Portrait du sultan mamlouk Barqūq (784-791/1382-1389; 792-801/13901399) en chrétien renégat”, p. 328. 46 Al-Maqrīzī, Kitābal-sulūkli-ma‘rifatduwalal-mulūk, III/2: 476; al-‘Aynī, ‘Iqdal-jumān fīta’rīkhahlal-zamān, p. 101; Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘al-zuhūrfīwaqā’i‘al-duhūr, I/2: 318. Sigoli passant par Le Caire en 1384 mentionne que le sultan a peut-être 45 ans (Sigoli, Viaggioalmonte Sinai, p. 230). 47 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 65; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 342. 48 Al-Jawharī al-Ṣayrafī (m. en 1495), Nuzhatal-nufūswa-al-abdānfītawārīkhal-zamān, éd. Ḥasan Ḥabashī, volumes I-IV (Le Caire: Al-hay’a al-miṣriyya al-‘amma li l-kitāb, 1970-1994), I: 497; Frescobaldi, ViaggioinTerrasanta, p. 181. 49 Aḥmad b. Yūsuf Al-Qaramānī (m. en 1610) note: “Lorsque Yalbughā mourut, il était parmi ses mamlouks les plus jeunes (huwaminṣighārmamālīkihi)” (Aḥmad b. Yūsuf Al-Qaramānī, Akhbār al-duwalwaathāral-uwal, éd. Aḥmad Ḥaṭyuṭ, volumes I-III [Beyrouth: ‘Ālam al-kutub, 1992], III: 293).

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Lorsque Barqūq part pour Le Caire à la demande du sultan Sha‘bān en 1373, le Siennois écrit que ce dernier n’a qu’un seul fils ‘Alī. Or prétendre que le mamlouk a été retenu pour servir le jeune prince, par ailleurs successeur de Sha‘bān, permet à l’auteur de présenter à nouveau Barqūq sous un jour favorable, c’est un homme compétent et digne de confiance. Cet “oubli” est une posture, car d’après Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Barqūq est affecté au service des fils du sultan (fīkhidmatawlādihi)50. D’ailleurs, le Siennois mentionne quelques années plus tard al-Ḥājjī, successeur et frère de ‘Alī. Les Italiens assimilent le calife au pape, même si Mignanelli signale que le premier n’a pas autant de pouvoir que le second51 et tous livrent la même version quand ils évoquent les démêlés de Barqūq avec le calife. À ce dernier incombait la tâche de faire prêter serment au nouveau prétendant au sultanat, la bay‘a ne pouvait être valide sans sa présence. Les Florentins se sont renseignés sur le déroulement de cette formalité et Sigoli le rappelle quand il note: “Avant que quelqu’un soit confirmé sultan, il faut que le calife lui ait fait prêter serment à haute voix [et devant témoins]52”. L’accession au pouvoir de Barqūq aurait toutefois provoqué l’opposition du calife al-Mutawakkil. D’après Mignanelli, le motif est politique; ce dernier aurait accusé Barqūq d’être trop ambitieux, ce qui aurait conduit à sa destitution et à son remplacement53. Pour les Florentins, le prétexte est religieux. En effet, d’après Frescobaldi, al-Mutawakkil aurait argué que le père de Barqūq était chrétien, or le nouveau souverain devait être musulman et fils de musulman54. Ces informations sont erronées, car le calife al-Mutawakkil a présidé la bay‘a de Barqūq le 26 novembre 138255. Il ne fut donc pas jeté en prison pour avoir refusé d’appliquer une loi qui n’existait pas et il ne fut pas ainsi que le prétendent Sigoli et Mignanelli remplacé par un de ses parents. Si al-Mutawakkil fut effectivement destitué en août 1383, c’est parce qu’il était suspecté de tremper dans un complot contre le sultan Barqūq56. Ce dernier nommera un frère de l’ex-calife al-Muta‘ṣim qui prendra le nom d’al-Wathīq, 50 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 67; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.Beltramo diLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 345; Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Manhalal-ṣāfīwa-al- mustawfība‘dal-wāfī, III: 286. 51 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, II: 159; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.Beltramo diLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 367; Frescobaldi, ViaggioinTerrasanta, p. 181; Sigoli, ViaggioalmonteSinai, p. 232. 52 Sigoli, ViaggioalmonteSinai, p. 232. 53 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 74; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.Beltramo diLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 353. 54 “Le calife avait dit qu’il ne pouvait pas le confirmer parce que la loi veut que celui qui est sultan soit sarrasin et fils de sarrasin alors que son père était chrétien.” Frescobaldi, Viaggioin Terrasanta, p. 181. 55 Al-Maqrīzī,Kitābal-sulūkli-ma‘rifatduwalal-mulūk, III/2: 477. 56 Ibid., 493-6.

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avant de réintégrer al-Mutawakkil dans la fonction en 138957. Et d’ailleurs, quand Mignanelli arrive en Syrie, c’est ce personnage qui occupe la fonction califale, il la conservera jusqu’à sa mort en 1406. Par ailleurs, si pour accéder au pouvoir le sultan devait être musulman, la religion de ses ascendants ne constitua jamais un critère discriminant. Quoi qu’il en soit, tous évoquent les évènements qui précèdent l’accession de Barqūq au pouvoir, même si leur argumentation diffère légèrement. Le mamlouk a donc su patiemment attendre son heure, sachant pertinemment qu’il devait rallier suffisamment d’appuis pour finaliser ses ambitions. Les émirs ont, ainsi que le note Mignanelli, préféré un homme mature issu de leurs rangs à un enfant58. Barqūq n’a donc pas eu besoin d’agir selon les dires de Sigoli: “Il [Barqūq] fit arrêter les fils de l’autre sultan [?], il les emprisonna et agit de la même manière avec tous leurs parents59.” Quant à Gucci, il a une autre approche de l’accession au pouvoir de Barqūq. En peu de mots il résume et analyse finement la situation, il lui reproche de s’être emparé du pouvoir par la force, la duperie et la trahison60. Enfin, Mignanelli attribue la construction de la Qubbat Yalbughā à la mauvaise personne. En effet, ce n’est pas l’émir Yalbughā al-‘Umarī al-Khāṣṣakī qui a construit cet édifice, mais l’émir Yalbughā al-Yaḥyāwī al-Nāṣirī, un des gouverneurs de Damas. Il avait lancé la construction en 1346, cette dernière fut achevée après sa mort survenue en 134761. – Des récits entre omissions et ajouts D’après Frescobaldi, Barqūq aurait donné l’ordre à des Chrétiens d’enlever son père Anaṣ et de le conduire au Caire. Anaṣ dut se convertir à l’islam, il fut circoncis ce qui provoqua son décès62. Migannelli tait cet épisode, probablement afin de ne pas nuire à l’image de Barqūq. Toutefois, cette omission est d’autant 57 Al-Maqrīzī, Kitābal-sulūkli-ma‘rifatduwalal-mulūk, III/2: 603-4. Garcin, “Histoire, opposition politique et piétisme traditionnaliste”, 59-60. Lorsqu’al-Wathīq décède en 1386, son frère al-Muta‘ṣim est de nouveau calife jusqu’en 1389, date à laquelle Barqūq le démet et rappelle alMutawakkil. 58 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 73; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.Beltramo diLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 352-3. Il semble bien qu’ici l’argument soit repris d’Ibn Khaldūn, cf. Van Steenbergen, Orderoutofchaos.Patronage,ConflictandMamluk Socio-politicalCulture.1343-1382, p. 120. On peut toutefois douter que Barqūq se soit fait prier pour accepter le trône ainsi que le note Mignanelli. 59 Sigoli, ViaggioalmonteSinai, p. 232. 60 Gucci, ViaggioaiLuoghiSanti, p. 266. 61 Ibn Qāḍī Shuhba (m. en 1448), Tā’rīkhIbnQāḍīShuhba, éd. ‘Adnān Darwish, volumes I-IV (Damas: Institut français de Damas, 1977-1997), II: 538; Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Nujūmal-zāhira fīmulūkal-Miṣrwa-al-Qāhira, X: 146-7. 62 “Barqūq avait convaincu des mauvais chrétiens de Grèce de lui amener son père par la ruse. Il contraignit ce dernier à renoncer à la foi du Christ et il le fit circoncire selon leur loi; si bien

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plus singulière que les auteurs arabes célèbrent les retrouvailles entre les deux hommes, allant même jusqu’à les comparer à celles de Jacob avec Joseph. Anaṣ est arrivé en Égypte le 5 mars 1381, néanmoins, il est difficile de déterminer l’intervention d’éventuels Chrétiens, car c’est le marchand d’esclaves ‘Uthmān al-Musāfir qui avait amené Barqūq en Égypte en 1362-1363 qui se chargea de lui. La conversion du personnage à l’islam est mentionnée dans les sources arabes, mais elle n’est assortie d’aucun commentaire. Néanmoins, il est difficile de se prononcer sur ce point ainsi que sur la religion originelle de l’individu. Qui plus est, Anaṣ étant octogénaire ou nonagénaire, il décéda le 2 janvier 1382, soit quelques mois avant l’avènement de son fils63. De la même manière, Mignanelli ignore l’emprisonnement des Yalbughāwī au nombre desquels figuraient les deux amis, alors qu’Ibn Taghrī-Birdī en fait état dans une notice qu’il consacre à Barqūq64. Peut-être l’auteur craignait-il que le futur sultan ne soit assimilé à un meurtrier, du moins à un complice? Si les Florentins évoquent le harem et les nombreuses femmes du sultan65, Mignanelli relate uniquement le mariage de Barqūq avec Bagaded, veuve d’al-Ashraf Sha‘bān. Or celui-ci ne figure dans aucune source arabe. Qui lui a transmis cette information? Enfin le Siennois ne livre aucune description physique de Barqūq alors que Sigoli qui ne l’a pas rencontré esquisse un portrait des plus flatteurs66. Le physique du sultan est abordé uniquement lors de l’épisode de la focàccia. Lorsque Barqūq fait part de son rêve à l’émir Manjak, ce dernier décide de convoquer des astrologues afin qu’ils étudient la corpulence du jeune homme, selon le principe de la physiognomonie, et son horoscope, probablement d’après sa date et son lieu de naissance67. Mais si Barqūq pouvait dire qu’il était originaire de Circassie, comment pouvait-il fournir avec certitude le second renseignement? Quoi qu’il en soit, d’après Mignanelli, ces deux méthodes permirent aux savants de vérifier, puis d’attester le brillant avenir qui attendait le mamlouk. Peut-être doit-on également voir dans cette affaire, l’intérêt de l’auteur pour cette science68. Par ailleurs, si le Siennois évoque l’éducation militaire de Barqūq, il ne dit rien sur son affranchissement alors que Sigoli le mentionne69. que le père mourut peu de temps après de peine et de douleur.” (Frescobaldi, ViaggioinTerrasanta, p. 181). 63 Martel-Thoumian, “Portrait du sultan mamlouk Barqūq (784-791/1382-1389; 792-801/13901399) en chrétien renégat”, pp. 330-2. 64 Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Nujūmal-zāhirafīmulūkal-Miṣrwa-al-Qāhira, XI: 183. 65 Sigoli, ViaggioalmonteSinai, p. 230; Gucci, ViaggioaiLuoghiSanti, p. 270. 66 Sigoli, ViaggioalmonteSinai, p. 230. 67 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 66; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.Beltramo diLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 344. 68 Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.BeltramodiLeonardoMignanelliele sueopere, “Astrologo,scrittoreearabista:unabiografiaculturale.Gliscrittidiastronomia”, pp. 113-8. 69 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 64-5; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.Beltramo diLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 342; Sigoli, ViaggioalmonteSinai, p. 232.

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Proposer au lectorat quelques jalons comparatifs de manière à ce qu’il puisse suivre un récit s’avère indispensable, surtout quand celui-ci se déroule outreOccident. Toutefois, pour retenir son attention et surtout pour éviter qu’il ne se lasse, il est bon d’y introduire habilement quelques éléments fantastiques et héroïques et surtout de typer les personnages. 3. …EST RATTRAPÉE PAR LE ROMAN ÉPIQUE ET LA MYTHOLOGIE URBAINE Mignanelli écrit pour un public occidental lettré dont la connaissance de l’Orient est bien souvent livresque ou orale. Cet espace géographique est l’objet de bien des phantasmes, qui plus est, qu’un ancien esclave étranger, converti de surcroît puisse un jour accéder au trône, est improbable en Occident. Il faut donc pour donner du relief à la relation y ajouter une intervention divine, du moins quelques événements s’y apparentant. – Deux histoires abracadabrantesques Après avoir évoqué brièvement le passé du jeune Barqūq, il est temps pour Mignanelli d’introduire un peu de merveilleux dans son récit. Le premier épisode met en scène Barqūq et un lion sur la route menant d’Alep à Damas; le roi des animaux, à demi-sauvage et enchaîné, s’agenouille au passage du mamlouk, lui manifestant du respect. Doit-on voir dans cette scénette une référence à l’emblème de Baybars gravé sur un mur de la Citadelle de Damas, à une réminiscence biblique, Daniel dans la fosse aux lions ou plus simplement un emprunt à l’histoire de Gouffier de Lastours et à son lion “apprivoisé”70? Le deuxième épisode est tout aussi curieux: Barqūq se repose dans la Qubba érigée par Yalbughā al-Nāṣirī. Il rêve qu’une galette de pain (focàccia) arrive du paradis et flotte dans l’air au-dessus d’une foule, mais lui seul parvient à l’attraper, car elle s’est positionnée au-dessus de sa tête. Il la dévore. Un vieil ermite y voit un présage: Barqūq est un élu, un devenir fabuleux l’attend. Averti, le gouverneur Manjak al-Yūsufī est bouleversé et il comprend que le jeune homme connaîtra un 70

Je remercie P-V. Claverie pour cette référence. Cf.Lerireduprédicateur:récitsfacétieuxdu MoyenÂge. Textes traduits par Albert Lecoy de la Marche, présentation, notes et annexes Jacques Berlioz (Turnhout: Brepols, 1992). Gouffier de Tours ou de Lastours délivre un lion aux prises avec un serpent. Reconnaissant le fauve s’attache à sa personne, “Un lion au service d’un croisé”, pp. 80-81. Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 65-6; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, pp. 342-3. Cf. également Nasr al-dīn Naamoune, “La “modernisation” de la vie de Baybars au XVe siècle”, dans Lecturesduroman deBaybars, dir. Jean-Claude Garcin [Parcours méditerranéens] (Marseille: Éditions Parenthèses/ MMSH, 2003), pp. 143-51 et Clément Onimus, “Les émirs dans le sultanat mamelouk sous les sultans Barqūq et Faraǧ (784-815/1382-1412). Restauration sultanienne et conflits émiraux”, thèse EPHE, Paris, 2013, p. 187, en cours de publication.

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destin exceptionnel. Il demande à des astrologues et autres mages de se pencher sur l’affaire, afin d’avoir confirmation de son pressentiment71. Mais plus que les deux histoires, c’est la construction littéraire qui attire l’attention. Le prologue de la première permet de faire connaissance avec Baraka al-Jūlbānī décrit comme un individu corpulent, à la voix grave et doté d’un tempérament très impulsif. Si les données physiques peuvent sembler anodines, le caractère emporté, voire violent du frère d’armes de Barqūq constitue un prélude à la suite des évènements. Même s’il est présent, les deux hommes cheminant ensemble, le lion ne connaît ou ne reconnaît que Barqūq. Cet épisode, dont il est le héros, est suivi de commentaires élogieux sur son caractère et sur ses manières comme autant d’antonymies à ceux de Baraka. En effet, l’auteur amorce dès lors une série de remarques flatteuses qui vont par la suite ponctuer son récit. Toutefois, si Barqūq est décrit comme un homme travailleur, à l’esprit vif, intelligent et généreux, ces compliments n’émanent pas de l’auteur lui-même, mais de l’émir Manjak qui avait de l’affection pour lui. Mignanelli se contente de faire remarquer qu’il n’en dit pas davantage sur le sujet par souci de brièveté. Dans un second temps, “l’affaire de la focàccia” vient renforcer la reconnaissance du roi des animaux. L’auteur effectue alors une mise au point, en effet si Barqūq a pris l’habitude d’aller se reposer dans la Qubbat Yalbughā, c’est que le lieu est agréable; il est attiré par la beauté du sol de l’édifice et par la brise venant de l’est. La suite de l’épisode n’établit aucun lien avec le fondateur du bâtiment, car c’est avec un ascète, un homme coutumier des rêves et apte à les décrypter que le jeune homme partage le sien72. Si l’épisode du lion est bref, constituant en quelque sorte un prélude à l’affaire de la focàccia, cette dernière est développée, remarquablement mise en scène et argumentée, Miganelli y déploie un véritable talent de conteur. C’est quasiment l’annonce faite à Barqūq. Quelle est l’origine de ces deux récits? W. Fischel note qu’ils ne figurent dans aucune source arabe73. Il est peu probable que les fils de Manjak les aient racontés à Mignanelli. Seraient-ils du fait de l’auteur? Cette hypothèse est envisageable, car dans un contexte occidental chrétien, le lion peut renvoyer à l’épisode de Daniel dans la fosse aux lions et celui de la focàccia à la scène de la multiplication des pains. Toutefois, on peut également se ranger à l’opinion de Th. Koorwinder-Wijnjes qui préconise un “reservoir of stories and rumours that circulated in Damascus and Cairo74.” Un fait est certain, quelle que soit la valeur religieuse et/ou symbolique que l’on attribue à ces deux histoires, 71 Cf. Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellie lesueopere, “Raccontinelracconto:sognipremonitorieprodigi”, pp. 195 et suiv. 72 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 65-6. 73 Ibid., I: 66, n. 1 et 65, n. 7. 74 Koornwinder-Wijntjes, “Sultan al-Ẓāhir Barqūq as seen by his contemporaries”, p. 389.

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elles ont contribué à la légende urbaine de Barqūq et il n’est pas exclu que leur diffusion ait été le fait de conteurs populaires. – Des portraits contraires Le récit que livre Mignanelli des relations complexes entre Barqūq et son frère d’armes Baraka s’apparente à un drame shakespearien. Que certains faits semblent dupliqués du ‘Ibard’Ibn Khaldūn, ainsi que le font remarquer W. Fischel et Th. M. Koornwinder-Wijntjes75, n’a rien d’exceptionnel; en effet, les chroniqueurs arabes relatent avec plus ou moins de détails le conflit qui opposa les deux hommes et qui se solda par la victoire de Barqūq, suivi de l’assassinat de Baraka. Même les trois Florentins évoquent cette affaire qui était encore fraîche dans les mémoires et qui répondaient sans doute à leur question: “Comment le sultan est-il arrivé sur le trône?” Dans cet épisode sanglant qui mit aux prises deux amis devenus rivaux, ce ne sont pas les affrontements et leurs conséquences qui retiennent l’attention, mais l’art de la persuasion déployé par Mignanelli pour faire de Barqūq un homme à part. Mamlouks de Yalbughā al-‘Umarī al-Khāṣṣakī, Barqūq et Baraka partagèrent un temps le même destin. Ils fuirent ensemble en Syrie suite à l’assassinat de ce dernier par leurs frères d’armes, connurent cinq années d’emprisonnement, puis ils trouvèrent refuge auprès du gouverneur de Damas, l’émir Manjak al-Yūsufī au service duquel ils entrèrent pendant deux ans. Même si Baraka est peu présent au début du récit, Mignanelli assure que les deux jeunes gens étaient liés par une profonde amitié76. Néanmoins, dès leur séjour à Damas, le Siennois donne le ton, dressant un tableau contrasté de leurs caractères et de leurs comportements. Rien d’étonnant alors que Manjak, sensible aux qualités de Barqūq et probablement à la belle carrière qui lui est promise (il lui demande de ne pas oublier ses fils), lui donne une lettre de recommandation à l’attention du sultan Sha‘bān, des vêtements de rechange afin qu’il soit présentable ainsi qu’un pécule de 6000 besants pour couvrir ses frais77. Et cette opposition va aller crescendo au cours des années. Désormais, les dés sont jetés et les rôles répartis, si Barqūq devient une référence, Baraka incarne son contraire.

75 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 58, 62-3; Koornwinder-Wijntjes, “Sultan al-Ẓāhir Barqūq as seen by his contemporaries”, pp. 387-93. 76 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 68; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 345. 77 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 67; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 344. Il est curieux que dans ce cas précis, Mignanelli évoque des besants (monnaie d’or ou d’argent byzantine) et non des ducats. S’agit-il de besants sarrazinois (monnaie d’or), auquel cas la somme allouée à Barqūq équivalait à 6000 dinars.

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Cependant, la belle histoire fraternelle se gâte lors du retour au Caire alors qu’ils entrent au service de ‘Alī, le fils du sultan al-Ashraf Sha‘bān. D’après Mignanelli, dans la capitale, si Baraka dilapide son temps à la chasse et dans des plaisirs futiles, Barqūq qui a en mémoire “le rêve de la focàccia” tisse sa toile, multipliant les liens avec les autres émirs78. En 1377, le sultan al-Ashraf Sha‘bān est assassiné, ‘Alī lui succède, soutenu par Barqūq et Baraka, dont les ambitions se sont fortifiées au cours du temps. En effet, après avoir obtenu les premiers grades émiraux, ils espèrent décrocher l’émirat de cent. Le nouveau sultan exerce leurs souhaits, en 1377, puis en 1378 il fait de Barqūq un atābak (maréchal) et de Baraka un ra’snawbakabīr(grandcapitaine de la garde)79. Leur carrière est fulgurante, il ne leur a pas fallu plus de cinq ans pour arriver au faîte de l’État. Toutefois, l’auteur oublie de mentionner un troisième comparse, l’émir Aytamish al-Bajāsī80 qui remplace Barqūq dans le poste d’amīr akhūrkabīr(grand émir des écuries). D’après Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, le duumvirat se transforme alors en triumvirat, il qualifie les trois hommes de niẓāmal-mulk, tout en précisant que Barqūq a la préséance81. Néanmoins, le souverain est âgé de huit ans, et les deux frères d’armes estiment que leur moment est venu82. Or tous deux visent le même trône. Pendant un temps, ils se contentent de jouer les protecteurs du jeune ‘Alī, profitant de leurs positions respectives pour éloigner les grands émirs susceptibles de contrarier leurs desseins. Arrivé à ce point de son récit, Mignanelli fait une incursion dans le monde de la Bible, comparant Baraka à Esaü et de facto Barqūq à Jacob. Les relations entre les jumeaux de la Genèse, fils d’Isaac et de Rébecca, sont d’après l’auteur en adéquation avec celles des deux frères d’armes. Certes, il ne dit pas si à l’instar d’Esaü, Baraka a vendu son droit d’aînesse à Barqūq contre un plat de lentilles, mais il décrit ce dernier détenant tous les pouvoirs tandis que Baraka dépense son temps dans les distractions83. Mignanelli reprend ici le thème des frères ennemis, thème récurrent dans les écrits bibliques et dans la littérature médiévale. Or ce tableau ne correspond en rien à la réalité. En effet, 78 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch,I: 68; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.Beltramo diLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 345. 79 Ibid. 80 Pour Aytamish al-Asnadamurī al-Bajāsī al-Jirjāwī (m. en 1400), cf. Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Nujūm al-zāhirafīmulūkal-Miṣrwa-al-Qāhira, XII: 266-7. 81 D’après Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, la fonction de rā’s nawba kabīr n’existait plus à son époque, Al-Nujūm al-zāhira fī mulūk al-Miṣr wa-al-Qāhira, XI: 133. Pour les principales étapes des carrières de Baraka et Barqūq, cf. Van Steenbergen, Orderoutofchaos.Patronage,Conflictand MamlukSocio-politicalCulture.1343-1382, Appendix II, EffectivePowerHoldersBetween1341 and1382, p. 181, n°12, 13 et pp. 44-5. 82 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 68; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.Beltramo diLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 345. 83 Comprendre l’héritage familial, car c’était l’aîné qui héritait (Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I:69; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesue opere, texte latin, p. 346).

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Barqūq et Baraka ont œuvré de concert pour se débarrasser de ceux qui les gênaient, mais le Siennois n’en a cure car cela ne sert pas son discours84. – Le maître du jeu Le duumvirat fut de courte durée et la rivalité latente entre les deux frères d’armes s’exacerba pour atteindre son point d’orgue en 1380. L’affrontement devint alors inévitable. Les dialogues proposés par l’auteur sont significatifs et permettent au lecteur de visualiser les relations entre les deux hommes. Si l’on en croît Mignanelli, la jalousie et l’envie furent le facteur déclencheur, Baraka ayant pris ombrage de l’importance croissante de Barqūq dans les affaires courantes. Or l’auteur mentionne que le premier était à la main droite du sultan et le second à la gauche85. Certes, la droite et la gauche sont des dispositions corporelles, mais doit-on y déceler un sens politique, voire religieux86? Quoi qu’il en soit, Barqūq n’a d’autre option que de recourir à la ruse pour éliminer son ami. Si on compare la version de Mignanelli et celles données par les auteurs arabes, on ne le peut suivre complètement dans son descriptif de la situation. En effet, il opère un véritable réagencement de l’Histoire. Dans un premier temps, il y a un différend entre les deux hommes suite à l’attitude de l’émir Aytamish al-Bajāsī qui aurait pris les armes avec ses mamlouks et dont Baraka avait demandé, sans l’obtenir, l’arrestation. Aytamish aurait semblet-il été suivi par des émirs liés à Barqūq. Une médiation menée par des religieux apaise les tensions, mais permet à Barqūq d’obtenir les pleins pouvoirs. Dès lors, il endosse le rôle de sultan, même s’il n’a pas encore le titre, le jeune sultan ‘Alī étant politiquement inexistant. Toutes les décisions politiques lui reviennent et Baraka est de facto écarté. Maître du jeu, il n’attend qu’une occasion pour éliminer celui qu’il considère désormais comme son principal rival et meilleur ennemi. D’après al-Maqrīzī, le déclencheur des hostilités est une confidence d’un émir de Baraka, Sarāy al-Rajabī al-Ṭawīl à Barqūq. Lors d’un banquet donné en l’honneur de la naissance du fils de ce dernier, l’homme lui apprend que son khushdāsh veut profiter de la prière pour l’assassiner87. Comprenant qu’il détient l’opportunité de se débarrasser de ce dernier, Barqūq décide de passer à l’attaque et 84 Van Steenbergen, Order out of chaos. Patronage, Conflict and Mamluk Socio-political Culture.1343-1382, Appendix III, StruggleforPowerBetween1341and1382, pp. 195-6, n°6473. 85 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 69; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 347. 86 «Il mettra les brebis [les justes] à sa droite et les boucs [les mauvais] à sa gauche.» Matthieu 25/33. À moins de faire une lecture inversée, Baraka appartenait-il aux bons et Barqūq aux mauvais? Il est toutefois possible que Mignanelli fasse allusion au cérémonial aulique. 87 Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Nujūm al-zāhira fī mulūk al-Miṣr wa-al-Qāhira, XI: 142, 143. Les deux hommes ne communiquent plus que par personnes interposées. Quand Baraka envoie une

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demande à la populace à piller les biens de Baraka88. Le Caire et en particulier la mosquée du sultan Ḥasan sont le terrain des affrontements entre les partisans des deux hommes, avant qu’ils ne se déplacent à la Qubbat al-Naṣr. On dénombre de nombreux morts et des deux côtés, on appelle au meurtre de l’autre89. Finalement, une partie des troupes de Baraka fait défection et ce dernier est arrêté90. Cet événement a marqué les esprits, d’autant que les portes du Caire avaient été fermées trois jours durant, que la population avait souffert du manque de pain, informations que Mignanelli oublie de signaler. Le règlement de compte entre les deux frères d’armes était encore présent dans les esprits quand les Florentins sont passés par Le Caire. Aussi les langues se sont-elles déliées, d’autant que d’après Ibn Taghrī-Birdī et contrairement à ce qu’affirme Mignanelli la population appréciait Baraka (kāna muḥabbabān li l-ra‘īya)91. Barqūq a certes géré la crise, sur ce point le Siennois est dans le vrai; par contre, il se garde de mentionner que Barqūq n’a pas pris part aux combats, qu’il est resté chez lui92. Par ailleurs, il induit le lecteur en erreur quand il note que l’émir n’était animé par aucun esprit de vengeance à l’égard de son ex-khushdāsh. Dès que Baraka est emprisonné à Alexandrie, il s’empresse d’attribuer son iqtā‘à son fils nouveau né93. Par ailleurs, lorsqu’il promulgue des grâces pour la libération d’émirs détenus dans les geôles d’Alexandrie, son ancien frère d’armes n’est jamais concerné94. Toutefois, pour Barqūq le temps presse, car s’il a réussi à éloigner Baraka, il sait que l’humeur sultanienne est changeante, que des émirs peuvent intervenir pour solliciter sa grâce. Il faut désormais l’éliminer physiquement. Et le candidat idéal existe. L’ancien gouverneur d’Alexandrie Ibn ‘Arrām rêve de réintégrer son poste, aussi est-il prêt à bien des concessions. Barqūq lui propose de retrouver son ancienne fonction en échange d’un service sans en préciser la nature. Prudent, il refuse le pot-de-vin que lui propose Ibn ‘Arrām95. Les auteurs estafette s’enquérir de la situation, Barqūq lui fait répondre qu’il doit quitter l’Égypte, ce qu’il refuse, ibid., 144. 88 Barqūq ordonne à la populace d’incendier la maison de Baraka, al-Sakhāwī, Wajīzal-kalām fīdhayl‘alāduwalal-islām, I: 248-9. 89 Puis l’ordre suivant fut donné à la populace: “Quiconque s’empare d’un mamlouk de Baraka aura ses biens, si nous avons sa vie.” Al-Maqrīzī, Kitābal-sulūkli-ma‘rifatduwalal-mulūk, III/2: 382. 90 Ibn Ḥajar al-‘Asqalānī, Inbā’al-ghumrbi-anbā’al-‘umr, éd. Ḥasan Ḥabashī, Volumes I-IV (Le Caire: Lajnat iḥyā’ al-turāth al-islāmī, 1969-1998) I: 210-1; ‘Abd al-Bāsiṭ ibn Khalīl al-Ẓāhirī, Naylal-amalfīdhaylal-duwal, II: 165-6. 91 Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Nujūmal-zāhirafīmulūkal-Miṣrwa-al-Qāhira, XI: 145. 92 Al-Maqrīzī, Kitābal-sulūkli-ma‘rifatduwalal-mulūk, III/2: 385. 93 Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, al-Nujūmal-zāhirafīmulūkal-Miṣrwa-al-Qāhira, XI: 146. 94 Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Nujūm al-zāhira fī mulūk al-Miṣr wa-al-Qāhira, XI: 148; Onimus, “Les émirs dans le sultanat mamelouk sous les sultans Barqūq et Faraǧ (784-815/1382-1412). Restauration sultanienne et conflits émiraux”, p. 416. 95 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 71; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 349.

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arabes ne s’étendent pas sur le sujet, mais on peut estimer que la version donnée par Mignanelli est proche de la réalité, d’autant que l’homme avait déjà accepté de payer pour se maintenir au gouvernorat d’Alexandrie96. Aussi lorsque Barqūq lui demande la tête de Baraka, Ibn ‘Arrām n’a-t-il d’autre choix que de passer à l’acte. Fin connaisseur du milieu mamlouk dont il est issu, personnage ayant traversé bien des épreuves, Barqūq a anticipé la réaction des mamlouks de Baraka ainsi que leur refus d’adhérer à la version de la mort de leur patron qui leur serait présenté. Il savait également qu’ils réclameraient la restitution du corps afin de l’enterrer au Caire, dans son tombeau97. Confronté à un cadavre portant des traces de coups d’épée, ils n’eurent de cesse de demander la tête d’Ibn ‘Arrām. Ce dernier put toujours arguer que Barqūq lui en avait donné l’ordre, son cas était perdu d’avance, que pouvait-il faire contre un manœuvrier de cette stature98? L’entêtement des mamlouks de Baraka réclamant vengeance malgré l’interdiction du sultan ‘Alī (?) permit à l’ingénieux émir de faire d’une pierre deux coups, il se débarrassa d’un Ibn ‘Arrām devenu gênant99 et des mamlouks indésirables de Baraka100. Par la suite, le Siennois excelle dans sa description de la vraie-fausse modestie de Barqūq, ses nombreuses hésitations destinées à donner le change à ses interlocuteurs, ses minauderies estimant qu’il n’est pas digne du pouvoir alors qu’il espère de tout cœur que ses pairs vont le lui proposer. Son challenger va jusqu’à s’estimer trop âgé et désigne Barqūq. S’agit-il d’un choix délibéré comme le laisse entendre Mignanelli ou sous la contrainte? Barqūq inspire la crainte, et pour les 96 Le sultan Sha‘bān lui avait pris 1 000 000 dirhems (alfalfdirham) pour le reconduire dans le poste de gouverneur d’Alexandrie en 1376. Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Manhalal-ṣāfīwa-al-mustawfī ba‘dal-wāfī, V: 264. 97 Ibn ‘Arrām déclara qu’il avait trouvé Baraka mort dans sa cellule. Or l’exhumation du cadavre permit de constater qu’il avait été enterré avec ses vêtements, que la toilette mortuaire n’avait pas été effectuée et que la prière n’avait pas été dite. Qui plus est, il portait des coups d’épée à la tête. Al-Maqrīzī, Kitābal-sulūkli-ma‘rifatduwalal-mulūk, III/2: 382; Ibn Ḥajar al-‘Asqalānī, Inbā’al-ghumrbi-anbā’al-‘umr, I: 215; al-Sakhāwī, Wajīzal-kalāmfīdhayl‘alāduwalal-islām, I: 248-9. 98 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 72; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, pp. 350-1. Pour calmer les esprits, mais également pour prouver son innocence, Barqūq diligenta une enquête qui fut confiée à Yūnūs, son dawādār. Celui-ci se rendit à Alexandrie, Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘al-zuhūrfīwaqā’i‘al-duhūr, I/2: 274-5. 99 Ibn ‘Arrām fut battu et promené dans Le Caire et on fit savoir que “c’était le sort réservé à celui qui tue un émir sans la permission du sultan”, Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘al-zuhūrfīwaqā’i‘al-duhūr, I/2: 274. 100 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 72-3; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, pp. 349-50. Quand il évoque les mamlouks de Baraka, Mignanelli utilise la mise en abyme, ils sont à l’image de leur maître. Ce dernier était un mamlouk de Yalbughā qui avait un nom barbare et qui mourut égorgé de la main de ses esclaves, l’auteur établit une filiation entre tous ces personnages basée sur les thèmes de la barbarie et de l’atrocité, cf. Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 64-5; Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 341-2.

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présents, il est sans doute préférable à ce moment-là de se rallier à sa candidature que de subir le sort de Baraka et d’Ibn ‘Arrām. Tous savent désormais qu’il n’hésite pas à recourir au meurtre s’il sert ses desseins. De plus, ils ont en mémoire les différents conflits dont il est sorti vainqueur. La comédie du vraifaux refus n’a qu’une finalité, que tous le prient d’accepter le trône. Le phénomène de contagion des sentiments semble avoir miraculeusement opéré, car aucune voix discordante ne semble s’être élevée. Barqūq peut être fier de sa manipulation, il a obtenu le consensus sur son nom, balayant d’un revers de main les velléités d’éventuels rivaux101. Hypocrite, il va même s’excuser auprès de son beau-fils al-Ṣāliḥ al-Ḥājjī de lui avoir ravi le trône102. Toutefois, si le monde émiral s’est rallié à lui, un personnage se permet de faire de la résistance, le calife al-Mutawakkil. D’après Mignanelli, Barqūq est furieux de cette opposition qui n’est guère significative, d’autant qu’il peut destituer le calife et en nommer un autre à sa botte. Mais apparemment il tient à l’acquiescement du religieux et il va jusqu’à le menacer physiquement en lui appliquant la pointe de son épée sur le ventre. La scène a-t-elle réellement eu lieu ou Miganelli met-il un peu de suspense dans cette passation de pouvoir apparemment consensuelle? Quant aux Florentins, ils ne sont pas dupes et dénoncent la conduite du sultan Barqūq, ce qui signifie que bien des rumeurs circulaient au Caire et que ses agissements étaient loin de faire l’unanimité. On leur a raconté comment il s’était débarrassé de son ami et ce qu’il advint d’Ibn ‘Arrām, jugé seul responsable de l’assassinat de Baraka103. Ils sont horrifiés par un tel comportement que valide sans état d’âme un Mignanelli admiratif devant tant de rouerie. Paradoxalement, le comportement de Baraka lui valut un oubli nécrologique alors que son meurtrier Ibn ‘Arrām est passé à la postérité comme une victime, un crédule dont le seul tort fut d’avoir accordé sa confiance à un Barqūq manipulateur104. Baraka ibn ‘Abd Allāh al-Jūbānī est le grand perdant de l’affaire, tant d’un point de vue politique qu’historique. Seul Ibn Taghrī-Birdī semble avoir eu le souci de donner une autre image du personnage qu’il qualifie de “rafīq 101 Peut-être s’agit-il de l’émir Sūdūn al-Shaykhānī (m. en 1386) ainsi que le suggère Fischel, I: 73, n. 4. 102 Fischel, Ascensus Barcoch, I: 74; Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. BeltramodiLeonardoMignanellielesueopere, texte latin, p. 352. 103 Les sources arabes sont prolixes sur le sujet, d’autant que l’affaire était connue de tous. D’après Ibn Iyās, Ibn ‘Arrām aurait dit: “Je ne l’aurais pas tué sans un marsūm de l’atābak Barqūq, on me l’a volé. Entre vous et moi, il y a Allāh le Très Haut.” (Ibn Iyās,Badā’i‘al-zuhūr fīwaqā’i‘al-duhūr, I/2: 274). Sigoli donne quasiment la même version (Sigoli, Viaggioalmonte Sinai, p. 233). 104 Pour Ṣālaḥ al-dīn Khalīl ibn ‘Arrām, cf. Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-sulūk li-ma‘rifat duwal al-mulūk, III/2: 408; Ibn Qāḍī Shuhba, Tā’rīkhibnQāḍīShuhba, I: 44-5; Ibn Ḥajar al-‘Asqalānī, Inbā’al-ghumrbi-anbā’al-‘umr, I: 223, n°12; Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Manhalal-ṣāfīwa-al-mustawfība‘dal-wāfī, V: 263-268, n°1006; ‘Abd al-Bāsiṭ ibn Khalīl al-Ẓāhirī, Naylal-amalfīdhayl al-duwal, II: 169-70, n°603; Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘al-zuhūrfīwaqā’i‘al-duhūr, I/2: 275-6.

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al-Malik al-Ẓāhir Barqūq wa khushdāshuhu wa gharīmuhu (compagnon d’alMalik al-Ẓāhir Barqūq, son frère d’armes et son ennemi).” La formule synthétise parfaitement les rapports entre les deux hommes. Ibn Taghrī-Birdī décrit un homme courageux (qualité que lui reconnaissent Ibn Ḥajar al-‘Asqalānī et Ibn Qāḍī Shuhba), généreux, affable, même s’il inspirait un respect mêlé de crainte, qui aimait les ‘ulamā’et les fuqahā’, qui distribuait des aumônes et l’auteur après toutes ces louanges d’énumérer les constructions de Baraka à la Mecque105. CONCLUSION AscensusBarcoch est certes un important témoignage occidental des mœurs politiques dans l’État mamlouk, toutefois, cette œuvre présente bien des similitudes avec les Viaggi plus concis de Lionardo Frescobaldi, Simone Sigoli et Giorgio Gucci. Le problème épineux de sa conception se pose ainsi que celui des sources utilisées par Mignanelli. Ainsi que le fait remarquer W. Fischel: “It is to be regretted that the author nowhere indicates the sources from which he drew his information106.” Outre l’ouvrage d’Ibn Khaldūn, voire d’autres œuvres, peut-être a-t-il eu entre les mains la biographie qu’Ibn Duqmāq (m. en 1429) a consacrée à Barqūq107? Par ailleurs, comment expliquer les erreurs et les omissions, voire les nondits qui parsèment cet ouvrage? Par une mémoire sélective, voire infidèle? Par une connaissance partielle du monde mamlouk? Ou plus simplement par le désir de Mignanelli de livrer une œuvre intelligible à un lectorat occidental? Si le Siennois argue s’être mis à l’écriture pour répondre à la demande d’amis, que leur avait-il raconté pour que ces derniers lui suggèrent de relater ses relations vraies ou supposées avec le sultan Barqūq? Car si un autre point fait problème, c’est celui-là. Si les notices des chroniques ou des dictionnaires biographiques sont souvent répétitives aussi bien sur la forme que sur le fonds, une monographie ne peut 105 Pour Zayn al-dīn Baraka ibn ‘Abd Allāh al-Jūbānī al-Yalbughāwī, cf. Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-sulūkli-ma‘rifatduwalal-mulūk, III/2: 396-8; Ibn Qāḍī Shuhba, Tā’rīkhibnQāḍīShuhba, I: 42-3; Ibn Ḥajar al-‘Asqalānī, Inbā’ al-ghumr bi-anbā’ al-‘umr, I: 222, n°7; Ibn Taghrī-Birdī, Al-Manhal al-ṣāfī wa-al-mustawfī ba‘d al-wāfī, III: 251-5, n°661; ‘Abd al-Bāsiṭ ibn Khalīl al-Ẓāhirī, Naylal-amalfīdhaylal-duwal, II: 169, n°602; Ibn Iyās, Badā’i‘al-zuhūrfīwaqā’i‘ al-duhūr, I/2: 273-5. 106 Fischel, AscensusBarcoch, I: 62. 107 J. Pedersen, “Ibn Duḳmāḳ”, Encyclopédie de l’Islam, Nouvelle édition, volumes I-XII (Leiden: Brill, 1954-2004), III: 779. J. Pedersen note qu’Ibn Duqmāq a écrit une biographie de Barqūq “intitulée ‘Iḳdal-djawāhirfīsīratal-Malikal-ẒāhirBarḳūḳ, abrégée par la suite sous le titre Yanbū‘al-maẓāhir(Ḥādjdjī Khalīfa, II, 102, VI, 230, VI, 514). D’après Ḥādjdjī Khalīfa, ses ouvrages historiques furent largement utilisés par al-‘Aynī et al-‘Asḳalānī (I, 442, II, 118)”. On n’a pas trouvé trace de cette œuvre.

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obéir aux mêmes règles, car elle ne s’adresse pas systématiquement au même public. Mignanelli n’avait sans doute pas pour but de réaliser un ouvrage historique, il désirait uniquement relater l’histoire extraordinaire du mamlouk Barqūq devenu sultan. La présence de dates, qu’il était sans doute dans l’incapacité de restituer ne présentait probablement pas à ses yeux un grand intérêt108. À partir d’un canevas historique, il a développé un récit s’apparentant à une vita laïque qu’il a déroulé sur le mode du roman de mœurs et du roman de cape et d’épée transposés en Orient. En effet, l’auteur y a habilement inséré de l’action grâce aux divers combats, du drame par le biais des assassinats, du sentiment par l’évocation de la belle amitié de Barqūq et de Baraka et sa fin tragique, des historiettes s’apparentant à des fables et enfin des touches d’exotisme à travers des lieux aux noms enchanteurs, Damas et Le Caire. Cet exercice réussi lui a permis de mettre en avant un réel talent de conteur. Les éléments biographiques ayant été soigneusement choisis et agencés, AscensusBarqūq ne comprend aucun temps mort et se lit comme un conte politique, une peinture de la vie agitée de l’État mamlouk au cours de la deuxième moitié du XIVe siècle. Et malgré les erreurs et les approximations historiques, c’est un récit vivant, qui met en scène des bons et des méchants, procédé permettant de maintenir le lecteur en haleine, de capter son attention. Par sa prose enlevée, même si son latin n’est pas exempt de nombreuses scories, il sait que ce dernier ira jusqu’au bout de l’histoire, voire qu’il la relira. Qui plus est, en héroïsant le sultan Barqūq, alors que ce rôle revenait traditionnellement aux auteurs arabes, Mignanelli devint par ricochet un personnage important. Il fut probablement considéré comme un fin connaisseur du monde arabo-musulman, une autorité es Dār al-islām de son époque, ainsi qu’en témoignent ses deux brefs traités contre les Musulmans, InformatioBeltramicontrainfideleset Liber Machometi et opinioperfidaiudeorum109. BERNADETTE MARTEL-THOUMIAN Université Grenoble Alpes

108 Mahmoud Helmy, TraSiena,l’OrienteelaCuria.BeltramodiLeonardoMignanelliele sueopere, “Iltempodelracontoelamemoriapersonale”, pp. 198-299. 109 InformatioBeltramicontrainfideles, pp. 379-87 et LiberMachometietopinioperfidaiudeorum, pp. 389-94 dans Mahmoud Helmy, Tra Siena, l’Oriente e la Curia. Beltramo di Leonardo Mignanellielesueopere.

A TAYMIYYAN SUFI’S REFUTATION OF THE AKBARIAN SCHOOL: ῾IMĀD AL-DĪN AḤMAD AL-WĀSIṬĪ’S (D. 711/1311) LAWĀMI῾AL-ISTIRSHĀD

If one endeavours to delve into the history of Sufism in the Mamlūk period, the towering figure of Muḥyī l-Dīn Ibn ῾Arabī (d. 638/1240) cannot be overlooked. Indeed, the Andalusi shaykhal-akbar (the Greatest Master) has been called the most outstanding figure in Mamlūk Sufism.1 But to fully appreciate his impact on this epoch one must go beyond his own productive career as a Sufi scholar with a great corpus of sophisticated mystical writings on his name, and also take into account the formation of the school of thought that was connected to his person, now commonly referred to as the Akbarian school. It has been rightfully argued that while no such school or Sufi order was started by the shaykhal-akbar himself, it is nevertheless valid as a label to refer to the collective of mystics whose understanding of the Sufi way can be linked to his theoretical framework.2 This naturally includes the line of disciples that can be traced back to Ibn ῾Arabī himself through a spiritual, intellectual genealogy, but also those individuals who had no direct affiliation with him, but who were claimed by the school, so to speak, on the basis of their proximity to the principles of Akbarian mystical philosophy. Examples of the first category are Ibn ῾Arabī’s foremost disciple, Ṣadr al-Dīn al-Qūnawī (d. 673/1274), and the latter’s own disciples, such as ῾Afīf al-Dīn al-Tilimsānī (d. 690/1291), Mu᾿ayyid al-Dīn al-Jandī (d. 700/1300), Sa῾īd (or Sa῾d) al-Dīn al-Farghānī (d. 699/1300), and Fakhr al-Dīn al-῾Irāqī (d. 688/1289), all of whom continued to spread, elaborate upon, and add to Akbarian thought. Examples of the second category are the Andalusi Sufi philosopher ῾Abd al-Ḥaqq Ibn Sab῾īn (d. 669/1270) and the renowned Egyptian poet ῾Umar Ibn al-Fāriḍ (d. 632/1235).3 In spite of the absence of any formal organisational structure, William C. Chittick has shown * The current paper is based on the research I have conducted for my doctoral dissertation, which provides the first detailed study of al-Wāsiṭī’s life and thought. I would like to thank my former colleagues from the Arabic reading group at Utrecht University, the Netherlands, for their helpful suggestions regarding the translation of Lawāmi῾ l-istirshād. Needless to say that any mistakes or inaccuracies are completely my own. 1 Th. Emil Homerin, “Sufis and their Detractors in Mamluk Egypt”, in Islamic Mysticism Contested:ThirteenCenturiesofControversiesand Polemics, ed. Frederick de Jong and Bernd Radtke, pp. 225-247 (Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 1999), p. 228. 2 William C. Chittick, “The school of Ibn ῾Arabī”, in HistoryofIslamicPhilosophy:Part1, ed. Seyyed Hossein Nasr and Oliver Leaman (London/New York: Routledge, 1996), p. 510. 3 On the school of Ibn ῾Arabī, see: Chittick, “The school of Ibn ῾Arabī”, pp. 511-14, and see also: Th. Emil Homerin, FromArabPoettoMuslimSaint:Ibnal-Fāriḍ,HisVerse,andHisShrine (Cairo, Egypt: American University in Cairo Press, 2001), pp. 28-30.

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that there did exist a distinct group consciousness among the followers of Ibn ῾Arabī. Al-Qūnawī, for example, would sometimes refer to their group as “the school of verification” (madhhabal-taḥqīq).4 From their viewpoint, they were the elite of the Muslim community, distinguished by God through the gift of divine knowledge, ma῾rifa. That they were indeed different, not just from ordinary believers but also from the general Sufi populace, was certainly the sentiment shared by their detractors. In the years that followed Ibn ῾Arabī’s death in 638/1240 we find the first examples of reputable Muslim scholars who censured him and his followers, and composed refutations against specific doctrinal elements found in their writings. These polemics only increased in the century that followed. While it may be tempting to view this as a clash of “outward scholars” — represented mostly by the category of jurists (fuqahā᾿) — versus “inward scholars” — them being the Sufis —, such a simplification has since long been problematized, and rightly so. In the Mamlūk context there actually existed a considerable degree of hybridity between the two groups. The jurists ῾Izz al-Dīn Ibn ῾Abd al-Salām (d. 660/1261) and Quṭb al-Dīn al-Qasṭallānī (d. 686/1287), for example, were two of the earliest authorities to criticise Ibn ῾Arabī, with al-Qasṭallānī also attacking several members of his school. At the same time both of them were known to have been closely associated with Sufi sheikhs and were actively involved in Sufism.5 Even the most fierce of the Akbarians’ opponents, the Ḥanbalī shaykh alIslām Taqī al-Dīn Aḥmad Ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328), should not be viewed as a scholar who attacked them simply because they were Sufis. He himself had much admiration for the famous early masters of Sufism, and only took up his pen against specific interpretations of the spiritual way as set forth by later mystics. Sufism was in fact very much alive among his followers and students, as exemplified most clearly by the Ḥanbalī Sufi ῾Imād al-Dīn Aḥmad al-Wāsiṭī (d. 711/1311). The latter was not only one of Ibn Taymiyya’s foremost companions, but also a teacher of Sufism for several members of his circle.6 It is in fact in al-Wāsiṭī that we find what is perhaps the earliest, most clear-cut example of a Sufi sheikh who denounced the Akbarian school in fierce terms from a Sufi perspective. I would therefore argue that, rather than viewing the polemics against Ibn ῾Arabī and his followers in terms of superficial categories, such as the division Chittick, “The school of Ibn ῾Arabī”, pp. 510 and 521, note 1. This has been studied in some detail by Alexander D. Knysh, IbnʻArabiintheLaterIslamic Tradition:TheMakingofaPolemicalImageinMedievalIslam (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1999), pp. 44-85. 6 According to Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad Ibn ῾Abd al-Hādī (d. 744/1344), al-Wāsiṭī was the only of the great companions and masters of Ibn Taymiyya’s circle (min kibār aṣḥābihi wa-sādātihim) who passed away in Damascus while their shaykh stayed in Egypt, cf. al-῾Uqūdal-Durriyyamin ManāqibShaykhal-IslāmAḥmadb.Taymiyya, ed. Muḥammad Ḥāmid al-Fiqī (Beirut: Dār al-Kitāb al-῾Arabī, 2010), p. 306. 4 5

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of jurists and Sufis, which simply did not exist as such in the Mamlūk period, it would be useful to examine the phenomenon of different trends within Sufism itself that clashed. The current article aims to give a quintessential illustration of the way in which one particular interpretation of Sufism could claim legitimacy over the other through an English translation of Lawāmi῾al-Istirshādfī l-Farqbaynal-Tawḥīdwa-l-Ittiḥād (Flashes of Guidance to Differentiate Between Divine Unity and Monism). Written by the aforementioned Taymiyyan Sufi alWāsiṭī, the Lawāmi῾ aims to refute the Akbarian school for its supposed monist doctrine. Prior to the translation it will be useful to shed some light on the contextual background of the treatise and recognise some of the characteristic elements of al-Wāsiṭī’s formulation of Sufism that it contains. This will be followed up by some biographical details on his history with the Akbarians, and a brief discussion on the main argument he puts forth against them in the Lawāmi῾. * * * Somewhere in the last decennium of the seventh/thirteenth century al-Wāsiṭī entered Damascus, the Mamlūk capital of Shām, and thereby reached the final destination of his journey in search of spiritual guidance. Here he would come to the conclusion that the most pure form of Sufism must necessarily be anchored in the creed of the traditionalists (ahlal-ḥadīth), which was by far most vividly, but not exclusively embodied by the Ḥanbalī school.7 Some fifteen years earlier al-Wāsiṭī had left his homeland of Iraq, where he had studied in Wāsiṭ and Baghdad, and travelled to Mecca, Alexandria, and Cairo, accompanying scholars and Sufis along the way.8 But it was only in Damascus that he finally found the mentor he had been looking for throughout his journey, whom he recognised in the person of Ibn Taymiyya. Since Damascus had at that time replaced Baghdad as the main centre of Ḥanbalism, al-Wāsiṭī would have found himself in a context that had become intellectually and geographically defined by traditionalism. Although he was raised and trained as a Shāfi῾ī, he soon converted to the Ḥanbalī school under the influence of his newfound sheikh. This undoubtedly played a pivotal role in his effort to define and construct what we may label as traditionalist Sufism, a formulation of the spiritual way that was compatible with the context he had chosen as his final home. That he was successful in doing so appears from the fact that he eventually became a spiritual teacher (murshid) 7 On the definition of traditionalism, see for instance: George Makdisi, “Ash῾arī and the Ash῾arites in Islamic Religious History”, StudiaIslamica 17 (1962), p. 49, and Binyamin Abrahamov, IslamicTheology:TraditionalismandRationalism (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1998), p. ix. 8 See Zayn al-Dīn ῾Abd al-Raḥmān Ibn Rajab al-Ḥanbalī,al-Dhayl῾alāṬabaqātal-Ḥanābila, ed. ῾Abd al-Raḥmān b. Sulaymān al-῾Uthaymīn, vols. I-V (Riyad: Maktabat al-῾Ubaykān, 2005), IV: 382-3.

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himself for a group of disciples consisting of Ḥanbalīs and Shāfi῾īs with traditionalist leanings.9 But how did al-Wāsiṭī envision this traditionalist Sufism? Several of its essential elements can actually be found in the Lawāmi῾ and will be summed up briefly here. While the treatise is meant to reveal the primary flaw in the Sufi doctrine of the monists (ittiḥādiyya), the polemical label used to discredit the Akbarians, al-Wāsiṭī also presents us with several core points that he believed were essential to true, sound Sufism. It is important to note that he did not view himself as an innovator in that regard, for he actually considered the Sufism he taught as being rooted in the tradition of the early Sufis. Among them he counted such authorities as Sahl al-Tustarī (d. 283/896), Abū l-Qāsim al-Junayd (d. 297/298), al-Sarī l-Saqaṭī (d. 253/867), ῾Amr b. ῾Uthmān al-Makkī (d. 291/904), Abū Sa῾īd al-Kharrāz (d. 277/890 or 286/899), and Abū l-῾Abbās Ibn ῾Aṭā᾿ (d. 311/923), all of whom he credits in the Lawāmi῾ as members of “our community (ṭā᾿ifatinā)”.10 One of the first fundamental steps on the way towards God in al-Wāsiṭī’s thought is to believe in Him as He has described Himself in the revelations to His Prophets. A returning aspect of this approach that is also referred to in the Lawāmi῾ is to affirm all of God’s names and attributes (al-asmā᾿wa-l-ṣifāt) as found in the Qur’an and the Prophetic Sunna. One ought to believe, for instance, that God “is above the seven heavens on His throne”11 with a literal aboveness. This essentially comes down to close adherence to the traditionalists’ articles of faith, and reveals the influence of Ibn Taymiyya and the Ḥanbalīs on his formulation of Sufism. His creedal affiliation also constantly underlies his objection to those Sufis whose method of Sufism relies in any way on tenets of philosophy or speculative theology (῾ilmal-kalām), which in his overall polemics includes not only the monists, but also those Sufis who follow the Ash῾arī school in theology. Another core element of al-Wāsiṭī’s method in Sufism is what may very well be the earliest formulation of the concept known as the Muḥammadan path (al-ṭarīqa al-muḥammadiyya). According to al-Wāsiṭī, it is only through the Prophet Muḥammad that one can be guided unto the path towards God, and not by any Sufi shaykh: “If, my brother, you yearn for something of these realities of faith (al-ḥaqā᾿iq al-īmāniyya) and tastes of experiential knowledge (al-adhwāqal-῾irfāniyya), then think of yourself as if you are in the time of ignorance (al-jāhiliyya) and travel to the Messenger of God (God’s blessings and peace be upon him) so that you can meet him. Then believe in him and become Muslim at the hands of him.”12 9

Ibid. ῾Imād al-Dīn Aḥmad al-Wāsiṭī, “Lawāmi῾ al-Istirshād fī l-Farq bayna l-Tawḥīd wa-lIttiḥād”, in al-῾Imādiyyāt:Majmū῾fīhiRasā᾿illi-l-Imām῾Imādal-Dīnal-Wāsiṭīl-ma῾rūfbi-Ibn Shaykhal-Ḥazzāmiyya, ed. Muḥammad b. ῾Abd Allāh Aḥmad (Beirut: Dār al-kutub al-῾ilmiyya, 2010), p. 96. 11 Ibid. 12 Ibid., p. 94. 10

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What is implied by al-Wāsiṭī here is what Éric Geoffroy has already noted as a creative and characteristic aspect of his Sufism, which is to form a relationship with the Prophet by imagining him before you and connecting yourself to him.13 This, al-Wāsiṭī often stresses, is reached through a deep study of the Prophet’s biography (sīra) and the books of Ḥadīth. After the Prophet, the greatest example to be followed in terms of one’s spiritual state is that of his companions (ṣaḥāba). Al-Wāsiṭī describes them in the Lawāmi῾ as archetype Sufis by attributing to them spiritual qualities that we may recognize as typical Sufi terms. They were, in his view, the foremost in renouncing worldly life (zuhd), trusting in God (tawakkul), being content with His decree (riḍā), loving Him (ḥubb), longing for Him (shawq), being annihilated from the creation (fanā᾿), and reaching permanence in Him (baqā᾿). Due to their nearness to the Prophet, the source of the spiritual way, they were able to reach perfection in these states. Hence, they were always in control of their behaviour and never acted ecstatically, a notion by which al-Wāsiṭī subtly discredits those Sufis who would use Sufism to justify extravagant behaviour.14 The above examples from the Lawāmi῾ already give an insight into the implicit polemical nature of al-Wāsiṭī’s principles of Sufism. In his view, one’s failure to closely adhere to the traditionalist creed means that any spiritual experience that may be claimed will by definition be unsound, and by following a Sufi sheikh rather than the Prophet one will remain short of the most authentic spiritual guide. When we turn to al-Wāsiṭī’s explicit polemics, it becomes clear that his aim therein is above all to convey what Sufism is not, or rather, what has been wrongfully claimed to be a part of Sufism. And nowhere did he find a more evident case where the name of Sufism had been hijacked and connected to heretical teachings than among the members of Ibn ῾Arabī’s school. Al-Wāsiṭī’s first contact with Akbarian Sufism appears to have taken place in Cairo, where he stayed in several Sufi convents (sing. khānqah, pl. khanāqah) that also housed followers of Ibn ῾Arabī and al-Qūnawī. In an autobiographical statement he says: “While living in the convents I was confronted by a group who talk about mystical love and divine unity (tawḥīd), to which they refer by saying: ‘This one is a monotheist (muwaḥḥid), but that one understands nothing of divine unity’. They magnify their level of tawḥīd, saying: ‘Who has reached this?’ — and they name their own sheikhs, such as Ibn ῾Arabī and al-Ṣadr al-Qūnawī.”15

Éric Geoffroy, “Le traité de soufisme d’un disciple d’Ibn Taymiyya: Aḥmad ῾Imād al-Dīn al-Wāsiṭī (m.711/1311)”, StudiaIslamica 82 (1995): pp. 92-6. 14 Al-Wāsiṭī, “Lawāmi῾ al-Istirshād”, pp. 91-2. 15 Aḥmad ῾Imād al-Dīn al-Wāsiṭī, Riḥlatal-ImāmIbnShaykhal-Ḥazzāmiyyīn(657-711H.)min al-Taṣawwuf al-Munḥarif ilā Taṣawwuf Ahl al-Ḥadīth wa-l-Athar, ed. Muḥmmad b. ῾Abd Allāh Aḥmad (Konya: publisher unknown, 2005), p. 40. 13

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Al-Wāsiṭī’s account continues to state that he only became fully convinced of the heretical nature of Akbarian doctrine after studying ‘The Bezels of Wisdom’ (Fuṣūsal-Ḥikam) by Ibn ῾Arabī: “I thereby came to know the true nature of their objectives and I was worn out for a long time because of them”.16 In the end, his disappointment in the monist Sufis of Cairo convinced him to try his luck in Damascus, where he became Ibn Taymiyya’s companion for the remainder of his days. Besides the Fuṣūṣ, we know that he had access to Ibn ῾Arabī’s al-Amr al- Muḥkamal-Marbūṭ (The Perfectly Entangled Affair) and al-Futūḥātal-Makkiyya (The Meccan Revelations), both of which he appears to have viewed rather positively.17 He was also familiar with Ibn Sab῾īn’s Budd al-῾Ārif (Escape of the Gnostic) and al-Qūnawī’s Kitāb al-Fukūk (Book of Redemptions).18 We can thus safely say that he became well acquainted with the Akbarian school. It is unclear when exactly al-Wāsiṭī started to compose works of his own in the field of Sufism, but I suspect that he did not do so until after his meeting with Ibn Taymiyya. It was, after all, only then that he acquired the tools to formulate an interpretation of Sufism that was grounded in traditionalist theology. His refutations of the Akbarians were therefore most likely written during the Damascene period of his life. Besides the Lawāmi῾ he composed at least two more treatises that are solely concerned with denouncing them. These are: al- Bayānal-Mufīdfīl-Farqbaynal-Ittiḥādwa-l-Tawḥīd (The Beneficial Elucidation on the Differentiation between Monism and Divine Unity) and Ashi῾῾atal- NuṣūṣfīHatkAstāral-Fuṣūṣ (Rays of Statements to expose the Bezels).19 All three titles were possibly composed before 704/1304, the year in which Ibn Taymiyya wrote a patronising letter to Naṣr al-Manbijī (d. 719/1319) — a Sufi master and sympathiser of Ibn ῾Arabī — advising him to stay away from the works of Akbarian Sufis.20 In the letter, al-Manbijī is told that if he desires to uncover the true nature of the monists, Ibn Taymiyya can provide him with several sources: “I have written a book about it — perhaps it can be send to the shaykh [al-Manbijī] — and our master, sheikh ῾Imād al-Dīn [al-Wāsiṭī] has [also] written several epistles in that regard”.21 The epistles of al-Wāsiṭī referred to here by Ibn Taymiyya may very well have included the Lawāmi῾. 16

Ibid., pp. 42-3. ῾Imād al-Dīn Aḥmad al-Wāsiṭī, “Risālatuhu ilā l-Shaykh Aḥmad al-Maghribī”, in al-῾Imādiyyāt: Majmū῾ fīhi Rasā᾿il li-l-Imām ῾Imād al-Dīn al-Wāsiṭī l-ma῾rūf bi-Ibn Shaykh al-Ḥazzāmiyya, ed. Muḥammad b. ῾Abd Allāh Aḥmad (Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-῾Ilmiyya, 2010), p. 113. 18 ῾Imād al-Dīn Aḥmad al-Wāsiṭī, “Qā῾ida fī l-Farq bayna Mushāhadat al-ayyūmiyya wa-lTaḥaqquq bihā, wa-l-Farq bayna Mushāhadat al-Jam῾ wa-l-Taḥaqquq bihi”, in Qawā῾idfīl-sulūkilā Allāhta῾ālāaw:al-Sayr῾alāl-minhāj, ed. Muḥammad b. ῾Abd Allāh Aḥmad (Beirut: Dār al-Bashā᾿ir al-Islāmiyya, 2014), pp. 265-6. 19 Al-Wāsiṭī, “Risālatuhu”, p. 114. 20 Taqī l-Dīn Aḥmad Ibn Taymiyya, Majmū῾atal-Rasā᾿ilwa-l-Masā᾿il, ed. Muḥammad Rashīd Riḍā, vols. I-V (Cairo: Lajnat al-Turāth al-῾Arabī, 1976), I: 161. 21 Ibid., p. 170. 17

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To close our introduction we will briefly go through the main argument made against the Akbarians in the Lawāmi῾, which revolves around al-Wāsiṭī’s understanding of ‘the unity of being’ (waḥdat al-wujūd), the term that has become synonymous with Ibn ῾Arabī even though he himself never employed it.22 It must be noted that al-Wāsiṭī never provides any names of the individuals he means to attack in the Lawāmi῾. We can nevertheless be sure that his polemical description of the ittiḥādiyya is meant as a direct reference to the Akbarian school, since he places their origins in the beginning of the seventh/thirteenth century, roughly the time around which Ibn ῾Arabī started disseminating his teachings.23 Al-Wāsiṭī contends that the doctrine of waḥdat al-wujūd holds that nothing in existence has actual existence except God. According to his understanding, the Akbarians see God everywhere around them in the creation with His very essence, claiming that the true state of affairs is that all created things are manifestations of His existence. The danger in this doctrine, as repeatedly stressed in the Lawāmi῾, is that such a monistic approach of God entails the most extreme form of polytheism: “They set up everything as an associate to God, since they hold Him to be identical with everything (ja῾alūhu῾aynakullishay᾿)”.24 Ultimately, al-Wāsiṭī’s main problem with the Akbarians arises from a principle that we have already mentioned earlier on as a characteristic element of his formulation of traditionalist Sufism, which is to describe God in terms of how He has described Himself. It is here where they err, he says, because they exaggerate in their declaration of God’s oneness by holding that all that is not God has no existence. In doing so, they are going beyond the actual words of the Revelation. A final major concern he puts forth in the Lawāmi῾ is that monist Sufis may potentially deceive a great number of Muslims, because they cover up the reality of their beliefs by using terminology since long employed by the Sufis.25 In doing so, an otherwise marginal movement can take on the guise of what he considers mainstream “orthodox” Sufism, and lead people astray. * *

*

22 For a good, basic overview of the doctrine of Ibn ῾Arabī and several members of his school with regard to the unity of being, I refer the reader to the article of William C. Chittick, “A History of the Term Waḥdat al-wujūd”, in InSearchoftheLostHeart:ExplorationsinIslamicThought, ed. Mohammed Rustom, Atif Khalil, and Kazuyo Murata (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2012), pp. 71-83. 23 Al-Wāsiṭī, “Lawāmi῾ al-Istirshād”, p. 93. 24 Ibid. Note that I have rendered “῾ayn” as “identical” throughout the current translation, which is in line with Ibn ῾Arabī’s use of the word. On this translation, see: William C. Chittick, TheSelf-DisclosureofGod:PrinciplesofIbnAl-῾Arabī’sCosmology (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998), p. xxxviii and pp. 389-90, note 9. 25 In the Lawāmi῾, for instance, al-Wāsiṭī expresses his frustration at their use of the concept of union with God (jam῾). Note that while he argues that the spiritual state of jam῾ was never meant in a monistic sense, he does not present us with an alternative interpretation in the Lawāmi῾, cf. pp. 95-6.

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[The Translation:] Flashes of Guidance to Differentiate Between Divine Unity and Monism (Lawāmi῾l-Istirshādfīl-Farqbaynal-Tawḥīdwa-l-Ittiḥād)26 InthenameofGod,theCompassionate,theMerciful Praise be to God, the Possessor of majesty, generosity, bounty, benefaction, immense gifts, and mighty favours! He chooses for nearness to Him speciallydistinguished individuals from among His servants. He holds His friendship for the righteous alone, who drink with His cup from His pure love. He opens to them the gates of experiential knowledge (ma῾ārif) and ecstasy (wijdān) so that they become absent from created things through His being. He blots out from them all traces of themselves (rusūmahum) through the manifestation of His reality, and He effaces the remnants of their carnal souls (nufūs) through His holy attributes (ṣifātihi). He thus purifies and cleanses them of all things save Him. He takes them under His protection through His guardianship and enriches them. May His blessings be upon the Source of guidance, the Jewel at the centre of the pearl necklace of humanity, the Prophet of mercy, the Remover of affliction, who by being sent [by God] has unveiled the path to travel towards Him. Through him the way to right belief has been illuminated, upon which and towards which he is a guide. May God bless him and his chosen family and elected companions for the eternity of His perpetuity, through the course of His nights and days forever! To Proceed: O you who are looking into this book: May God place us and you among those whose natural intelligence is open to an understanding of the spiritual realities (al-ḥaqā᾿iq) and for whom the secrets of the [their] subtleties are unveiled! Contemplate this book with your intellect, look into it with the light of God, and depend on God alone with your innermost secret (sirr)! Know that God has servants to whom He has granted an opening into the unseen realms (al-ghuyūb), who by means of experiential knowledge of Him (ma῾rifa) have arrived unto all that they longed for. Removing the rust of desires and the dust of drives has opened their insight (al-baṣā᾿ir) to the subtleties of His actions, the preliminaries of His divine names and attributes, and the realities of the lights of His divine essence, whose property no expression would be able to describe and no allusion would be able to explain. And why shouldn’t it be so, since their existence has disappeared in His existence and the traces of their origins have extinguished in the radiance of His lights and manifestation! Their hearts have become attached 26 This translation is based on the edition referred to in the footnotes of the introduction; cf. al-Wāsiṭī, “Lawāmi῾ al-Istirshād”, pp. 89-97.

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to the throne (῾arshiyyat), their spirits elevated (῾ulwiyyat), and their carnal souls spiritual (rūḥāniyyat). This has intoxicated them so that they are unable to perceive their own existence. They are gathered in the presence of His eternal selfsubsistence (qayyūmiyyatihi), away from what their own volitions try to share in. As such, they have become by means of God, for God, and with God in their acts and affairs. The lights of Lordship (rubūbiyya) appear on them, which they have realised by having [them] imprinted in the outward forms of [their] servanthood (῾ubūdiyya). They have left the taste (dhawq) of their carnal souls in favour of being a servant of their Master entirely: {Thoseintrutharethebelievers,and theirsshallbeforgivenessandgenerousprovision}.27 Do not be astonished by this and do not reject it. Know that the gifts of God (mighty and majestic is He) are greater than whatever rational thinkers (al-῾uqalā᾿) could comprehend! His abundant graces (karāmāt) for those whom He loves and chooses /90/ are above anything that the people of reason (al-alibbā᾿ ) could imagine! He makes them drink of His love and clothes them with His light, so that they come to realise eternal life and everlasting happiness. May God place us among those who have realised the essential truth through their love [for Him], who follow their tracks unto their path, for it is He who has authority and absolute power over that! This speech is for people endowed with intellect and reason, who are not of those who follow their passions, but instead perceive the sound spiritual realities by means of their pure desires. God (exalted is He) says: {Yetnoneremembers, butmenpossessedofreason}28 and: {Surelyinthatthereisaremindertohim whohasaheart,orwillgiveearwithapresentmind}.29 O truthful brother, grave in respect of cleverness, intelligence, and smartness! — what is desired of you in what you are being told [here] is that you leave the rigidity of blind imitation (taqlīd) and that you remove fanaticism and blind imitation from your heart, because they cover the semblance of truth and swerve whoever follows them from the path of truthfulness. The one who follows his desire sees nothing else within himself, because it has confiscated his heart from him so that it preoccupies him. But if man removes this desire from his heart, only depends on God with his innermost secret, seeks refuge with Him with pure dependency and supplication, [and if he] asks [God] by His good grace to make the path of truth and guidance clear to him, and he remains prepared to seek this refuge — then guidance will come down from the heavens to his heart and all that was ambiguous to him of matters that are obscure and hidden will be unveiled. If you are granted success in this and you do [as we have mentioned], then know that God (exalted is He) sent the Prophets as bringers of good tidings and warnings, callers to Him by His leave, and guides, in order that they take those 27 Qur᾿ān 8:74. For citations from the Qur᾿ān I have relied on A.J. Arberry’s translation throughout the current article. 28 Qur᾿ān 3:7. 29 Qur᾿ān 50:37.

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who have gone astray from the right path out of the darkness of confusion and into the light. They guide them to the way of their [eternal] happiness, so that they obtain paradise on the Day of Judgment and Resurrection. The best of [the Prophets] was Muḥammad (God’s blessings and peace be upon him), who God sent to humanity as a bringer of glad tidings and warnings, a guide to God by His leave, and a light-giving beacon, in order to make clear to the people what has been revealed to them [by God], so that hopefully they would take warning. God sent him as a mercy for the Worlds, a healing for what is contained in the hearts, and a guidance and mercy to the believers: {Say:‘In thebountyofGod,andHismercy—inthatletthemrejoice;itisbetterthan that they amass’}.30 This was at a time when the unbelievers set up equals to God, such as partners, idols, things and forms. Instead of God, they worshipped statues, stones, stars, trees, and other similar vile objects of worship. /91/ They associated others with God in their worship of Him, such as inanimate or lifeless beings, who neither hear nor see: {Theyshallnevercreateafly,thoughthey bandedtogethertodoit;andifaflyshouldrobthemofaught,theywouldnever rescue it from him. Feeble indeed alike are the seeker and the sought! They measurenotGodwithHistruemeasure;surelyGodisAll-Strong,All-Mighty}.31 But God guided them through Muḥammad (God’s blessings and peace be upon him), taught them knowledge of Himself, and uncovered His noble countenance (wajh) (glorified is He) for them in the unseen (al-ghayb), so that they may know Him, worship Him, and ask Him for help. He informed them of His perfect attributes and timeless consummate qualities, and thereby perfected their religion for them. He completed His blessing upon them by teaching them the prescriptions of their religion, the articles of faith of their hearts, and their knowledge of Him (ma῾ārif), in order that they reach an exalted state through that in the outward forms of truthfulness in [their] actions. He thereby uncovered for them pure experiential knowledge (ṣarīḥal-῾irfān) and the realities of faith (ḥaqā᾿iqal-īmān, by which he conveyed to them what is required of them with regard to their [outward] deeds and their [inward] states. This is the utmost degree of perfection for the present and the future. God (exalted is He) has said: {TodayIhaveperfectedyourreligionforyou,andIhavecompletedMyblessinguponyou,andIhaveapprovedIslamforyourreligion}.32 This premise is agreed upon, its judgment is clear, and its proof vivid. It is through this Prophet that God guided his ignorant and blind community when they were uncouth, not knowing any truth nor guided upon any path. Appointed to them was someone who was optimally prepared and whose goal and aim was lofty, in order to verify the realities of the revealed law (al-taḥaqquqbi-ḥaqā᾿iqal-sharī῾a) and arrive unto the highest stations of the essential truth (al-ḥaqīqa). 30 31 32

Qur᾿ān 10:58. Qur᾿ān 22:73-74. Qur᾿ān 5:3.

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Furthermore, there emerged in his age (God’s blessings and peace be upon him) noble and notable people; They were the best of people after their Prophet, such as Abū Bakr, ῾Umar, the ten promised Paradise, and those who imitated their example and travelled on their path, such as Ubayy b. Ka῾b, Mu῾ādh b. Jabal, ῾Abd Allāh b. Mas῾ūd, Abū Dardā᾿, Salmān al-Fārisī, and others like them whose virtue is widespread and whose characteristics are widely known.33 They acted upon the realities of the revealed law and the subtleties of experiential knowledge while others did not. They came to realise the realities of divine love (maḥabba) and ecstatic experiences (mawājīd) while others after them did not ascend to this level. How could the intelligent person be ignorant of this? They drank from the cup of the Messenger and from its milk, acquired knowledge from his light, and pursued his ecstatic experiences. Those with intelligence will inevitably know that they were the most profound of people in religious sciences (al-῾ulūm), the most exalted of people in spiritual states (al-aḥwāl), and the people most deserving of experiential knowledge through realisation. They were the people most immersed in spiritual states, such as renunciation (zuhd), trust (tawakkul), contentment (riḍā), love (ḥubb), longing (shawq), annihilation (fanā᾿), and permanence (baqā᾿). But due to the strength of their faith and the exaltedness /92/ of their ranks, the effects of the intoxication (sukārā) that these states bring about were not visible on them. On the contrary, they were strengthened by the light of prophethood so that they applied these states in [their] deeds and strove on the path of God through long, dark nights. This is the utmost degree of perfection! Do not wonder at this as you would at someone who is sober and drunk at the same time, for the divine gift contains an abundance of Muḥammadan traits that continued through the elect of [the Prophet’s] companions, giving them spiritual strength and stability (al-quwwawa-l-tamkīn), and a state of separation while being united (al-farqfīl-jam῾), and of sobriety while being drunk (al-ṣaḥwfīl-sukr)! This is known by necessity from the gleams of their states and the subtleties of their words, their strength for the sake of God’s essence (dhāt), their holy war (jihād) against the enemies of God, and their pure love for God. Their spiritual states cannot be measured by those of others who disclose their ecstasy and reveal their [mystical] secret and are unable to hide their ecstatic experiences, to the degree that they sing and chant and disturb the peace when they drink. And when they drink a drop of the cups of the companions, they manifest rapture and dejection! So God’s blessing be with the Source of guidance and realities and the Fountainhead of their spring, and may God be pleased with his righteous, noble companions and make them be pleased! May He connect us to them and may He never turn us away from their path! May He guard us against deviation from their custom (sunna) and method (nahj), for He is the Munificent, the Generous! 33

All the individuals mentioned here belonged to the inner circle of the Prophet Muḥammad’s companions.

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It was from God’s decree and predestination that there came generations after them, consisting of both common and elite believers (῾umūmwa-khuṣūṣ). The commoners neglected the ritual prayers and followed their worldly appetites (shahawāt), and among the elite there were those who neglected the religious essentials (uṣūl) while being inclined to matters of secondary importance. Thus the fruits became corrupted, and with the passing of time religious works decreased and spiritual states weakened, until this matter led to the corruption of the articles of faith (῾aqā᾿id) and error in [the religion’s] sources and roots. This brought forth a group [of monists] in the seventh[/thirteenth] century on account of whom a peak was reached in neglecting the religious essentials and deviating from the spiritual way (sulūk) and the art of arrival [unto God] (wuṣūl). They referred to the spiritual realities with strange words in subtle allusions and profound expressions, in which the intelligent minds only become rightly directed after hard effort, and which hearts only comprehend after having become separated and united (ba῾datafarruqwa-ta᾿alluf). But the hearts love to have knowledge of what they do not know and take delight in solving what is dubious. Thus these falsities spread all over the land, and a lot of people of denominations and religions became lax on account of it. This resulted in exaggeration in the declaration of divine unity (tawḥīd), to the degree that they described the existents (kā᾿ināt) by the term “the unity of being (waḥdatal-wujūd)”. They thereby came to an extreme that is comparable to the one to which the polytheists were inclined — to whom the /93/ Messenger of God (God’s blessings and peace be upon him) was sent —, for they [too] exaggerated in associating others with God to the degree that they set up equals to Him. But the former [i.e. the monists] exaggerate when it comes to divine unity, so that they maintain what the polytheists have taken besides God. Even more so, [for to them] every created thing is a locus of manifestation in which the Real manifests with His very essence (bi-ḥaqīqatihi) and [in which] He discloses Himself with His actual being and “I”-ness (bi-wujūdihiwa-āniyyatihi). They thereby reach the essential meaning of polytheism. They set up everything as an associate to God, since they hold Him to be identical with everything (ja῾alūhu ῾aynakullishay᾿). According to their deceptive claim and futile corruption, He (exalted is He) is both identical with [created] existence and the only actual thing in existence itself. For them, no existent has existence, for existence belongs to the Real alone. Hence, the existence of the Creator of all things is identical with the existence of created things, or so they claim. Exalted is God above what these evil-doers profess, and free is He from what these corrupters ascribe to Him! Inspect three things — may God have mercy on you! First of all, how faith was distorted in the first place during the time of ignorance (al-jāhiliyya). [Then] how Islam made it straight, so that [the people] declared God to be one in terms of how God declared Himself to be one. They were sincere in worshipping

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Him, so that they did not set up any equal to Him. [Then inspect] how this matter ultimately ended up in such deviance, to the degree that it reached this aforementioned extreme [of the pre-Islamic polytheists], in such a way that both of them have become far extremes. It is crystal clear that the truth is in between them. Those upon whom God (exalted is He) has bestowed a sound natural disposition, true intelligence, and hearts in which the light of faith is resplendent, so that they contemplate the matter in its beginning, its middle, and its end — they understand that to remain stuck in the beginning is deviance (inḥirāf), that in the middle way is integrity (istiqāma), and in the end is religious laxity (inḥilāl). All of this is in accord with what has been reported [from the Prophet] (God’s blessings and peace be upon him): “You will follow the example of those who have come before you in the exact same way, in such a manner that were they to enter the lair of a lizard, you too would enter it”. His companions asked: “O Messenger of God, do you mean the Jews and the Christians?”, and he answered: “Who else”?34 While the Jews took ῾Uzayr as the son of God and the Christians took the Messiah as the son of God, there has happened something in this community (umma) that has not reached us from the People of the Book! For they have made every existent into a divinity that is identical with God, to such an extent that their whims tell them that the reality of each of them is God! This occurred in the beginning of the seventh[/thirteenth] century on the basis of the precepts that they decided upon and the disastrous things that they beautified. When someone who is clever and intelligent reflects on this, he will find that they have changed words from their places. After reflecting upon the matter, [he will see that] they consider that for which God censures the unbelievers to be an extolment, that they consider the Fire to be a Garden and the punishment to be sweet, that they consider /94/ [God’s] curse and anger to be nearness [to Him], and that the ruin and destruction that befalls the unbelievers is arrival [unto God]. All of this stems from the notion that the existence of all created things is identical with the existence of the Creator: their existence and His existence are one. But they twist the realities of the meanings (ma῾ānī) and distort the words from their places, which were tempered with in the same way by the Bāṭiniyya and the Qarāmiṭa.35 Greatly elevated is God above that which they assert! 34 For this ḥadīth, see for instance: Muḥammad b. Ismā῾īl al-Bukhārī, al-Jāmi῾ al-Musnad al-Ṣaḥīḥ al-Mukhtaṣar min Umūr Rasūl Allāh (ṣallā Allāh ῾alayhi wa-sallam) wa-Sunanihi wa-Ayyāmihi, ed. Muḥammad Zuhayr b. Nāṣir al-Nāṣir, vols. I-IX (Beirut: Dār Ṭawq al-Najāh, 2001) IV:169. 35 The Bāṭiniyya refers to the Isma῾īliyya, a Shi῾ī group that stresses the bāṭin, inward, meaning of the Islamic texts. Hence al-Wāsiṭī considers them to be forerunners to the mystical philosophy of the Akbarian school, which, in his view, likewise looks for meanings beyond the apparent. On them, see: Marshall G.S. Hodgson, “Bāṭiniyya”, in Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, vols. I-XII

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We have found most of those who submit to their school of thought to be either deficient of intellect and idle of thought, or extremely intelligent and reasonable, but with a love to detach themselves from the burdens of the revealed law by laxity (inḥilāl): {Say:‘MyLordhasonlyforbiddenindecencies,theinwardandtheoutward,andsin,andunjustinsolence,andthatyou associatewithGodthatforwhichHesentdownneverauthority,andthatyou sayconcerningGodsuchasyouknownot’}.36 O clever, reasonable, and intelligent brother seeking guidance, looking for the truth and embracing it: May God open your heart’s ears and eyes, and may He show you and us the truth as being truth and may He help you follow it! May He show you and us the false as being false and may He guide us all in avoiding it! Know that these disastrous things that they mention are only easily sold to someone who is inexperienced and does not know the magnitude of divine unity — notwithstanding his good intentions! Such a person desires the spiritual realities but does not taste anything of it. His heart does not taste the flavour of its purity, so he glorifies this discipline and looks at it from a distance. He loves it and stands up for its practitioners (ahlihi). What they beautify [with their words] is easily sold to him due to his inability to reach the spiritual realities. As for the one whose heart God opens to the contemplation of the lights of His eternal self-subsistence (mushāhadatanwāral-qayyūmiyya) and unto whose innermost secret He gleams a share of His unity and pure singularity: by the first beam therefrom he will know the hidden deviance to which [these monists] allude, which they proclaim with beautiful words! If, my brother, you yearn for something of these realities of faith (al-ḥaqā᾿iq al-īmāniyya) and tastes of experiential knowledge (al-adhwāq al-῾irfāniyya), then think of yourself as if you are in the time of ignorance and travel to the Messenger of God (God’s blessings and peace be upon him) so that you can meet him. Then believe in him and become Muslim at the hands of him. Your journey to him and meeting with him is [done through] your study of his biography (sīra) and all that has been narrated from him about his life and normative practice (sunna), and the biographies of his companions and the elite of his followers. Then you must reflect on the Book of God and understand what He says, by which you will come to know His divine names and attributes as mentioned in the Revelation that came upon [Muḥammad], the best of creation, and through his companions, who are the elite of this community and all who come after them. Hence, it is from what remains of their spiritual drink that those [who come after them] will have to drink, and on them that they have to rely for the (Leiden: Brill, 1954-2004), I: 1098-1100. The Qarāmiṭā are a branch of the Isma῾īliyya, see: Wilfred Madelung, “Ḳarmaṭī”, EncyclopaediaofIslam,NewEdition, IV: 660-665. 36 Qur᾿ān 7:33.

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spiritual realities. For they had a certain drink /95/ that they would take, and there [still] remain drops that quench the thirst of the people who follow them. Do not doubt this, lest you will be among those who arrogantly oppose necessary knowledge, which is established in the mind of the insightful person of reason and intelligence who has arrived [unto God]! If you are made suitable and you do [as we have mentioned], and you are led on the right way through God’s guidance, He will open between your heart and the experiential knowledge of Him an arch from which you will taste a share of His pure unity and true singularity. From this, there will be installed in your heart a share of the divine unity [as it was believed] by your predecessors (salaf), the companions of your Prophet. This will save you from your sorrows and fixations, so that you will remain with God from then on, through Whom you will hear, see, and talk!37 The Real will remain your vision at all times and He will take care of you through His providence. Thus, you will only see His act, only His light will inhabit your heart, and you will only be delighted by the tastes of His attributes. You are [then] in the presence of the Prophet (God’s blessings and peace be upon him), from whom you will not be separated, and amongst his companions, whose breaths will expand you even though they have passed away. Indeed, for those whose hearts are opened to their guidance, they are, in reality, alive with God! It is then that you will know that [the monists] are misled and do not know God through this Muḥammadan arch that He has made known. They do not travel towards Him through it, but rather through what their own egos tell them and what is established in their imaginations and minds. This is the outcome of either a corrupt understanding, or of seeking ease from the burden of [God’s] laws and the articles of faith through [the concept of] ‘waḥdatal-wujūd’ and their belief that existence is one. The result of this doctrine is that the existence of all things is made identical with the existence of their Creator. It is through His existence that effuses upon them that they are moulded into existence. Hence, their existence is identical with His existence. Whomever God grants understanding of this trickery and realisation of the true meaning of this nonsense, he knows what it is they allude to with regard to the levels of multiplicity (marātib al-kathra) and what it is they allude to with regard to the level of unity (martabatal-waḥda), and how they put forth these things in beautiful words — from the levels of multiplicity to the level of unity — until they render [waḥdatal-wujūd] into the essence of spiritual union 37

This is without a doubt in reference to the canonical ḥadīthoften cited by Sufis to describe the final stage on the spiritual path, mostly connected to the state of permanence (baqā᾿). According to the narration, the Prophet Muḥammad said that God told him: “My servant continues to draw near to Me with supererogatory deeds (nawāfil) until I love him. When I love him, I will be his hearing with which he hears, his sight with which he sees, and his hand with which he strikes…” Cf. al-Bukhārī, al-Jāmi῾al-Musnadal-Ṣaḥīḥ, VIII: 105.

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(῾aynal-jam῾). Indeed, they maintain that the essence of spiritual union signifies contemplating the existence of the Real as being identical with [created] existents. He [who is guided] knows that these disastrous things are confusing to the heedless, for you will find [the monists] referring to the essence of spiritual union while the realisers from among the Sufis (muḥaqqiqūl-ṣūfiyya) have [also] referred to this. [Furthermore, the heedless] finds that [the monists] allude to the Real as being identical with existents, while it is stated in the articles of faith (al-῾aqā᾿id) of the Muslims that existents do not exist by their own essences, but that they only exist because of God. Someone who is easily deceived will presume that what they mean by their declaration that the Real is identical with [created] things is exactly what the Muslims say about the existence of [created] things, namely, that they can only exist because of God. But this is only because [the monists] exploit the allusions (῾ibārāt) of the Sufis from the people of /96/ Islam (ṣūfiyyatahlal-islām)! Whoever verifies the knowledge of two schools will know that these are two [separate] ways, and he will know the procedure of both parties. The object of pursuit [here] is that your understanding rests on the realisation that they have deviated into an extremity that resembles the extremity into which the polytheists have deviated, as we have already mentioned above. If this becomes clear to you, you will know that the path of truth is the middle way between those who appoint associates and equals to God, such as stones and trees, and those who unify God to the point that they believe the existence of stones and trees to be identical with the existence of the Real. The method (ṭarīqa) of the people of truth is to seek experiential knowledge (ma῾rifa) of God from whence He has made Himself known to His servants. And that is through His Book and the Sunna of His Messenger, wherein mention is made of His divine names and attributes, the marvels of His actions, the greatness of His essence, and that His being is an essence that is His alone. He has pre-eternal existence (wujūd qadīm) by which He is distinguished from all other existents, and He has a reality by which He is distinguished from all others. He is above the seven heavens on His throne and all of His creation is brought into being in His dominion and grasp. They exist by His might, move by His volition (mashī᾿a), and strike by His express will (irāda). This is the way God has made Himself known to us in His Book, which He revealed upon the tongue of His Messenger whom [He has] sent to us. We, the people of reason, should not exceed the divine unity that [God] has made plain to us, but only seek experiential knowledge [of Him] by means of what He has revealed to us. We should not be greedy in seeking divine unity and adopt everything as a divinity, thus exaggerating in the confession of His unity. By acknowledging that only God has existence we would be making Him identical with everything. We would thereby fall into religious laxity and neglect the obligations, pertaining to what is forbidden and what is permitted, break

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down the barrier of the revealed law, and exceed the guidance of those who preceded us from our Prophet’s companions and the shaykhs of our Sufi community (ṭā᾿ifatinā), such as Sahl, al-Junayd, al-Sarī, ῾Amr b. ῾Uthmān, Abū Sa῾īd al-Kharrāz, Ibn ῾Aṭā᾿, and their generations. We would be introducing new things into the religion of God for which He has not given permission, on account of which we’d be misled and very far astray. We would be distantly removed from what we seek and hope for, which is to arrive [unto God] (wuṣūl)! Indeed, this is the school about which we know that there is no Muslim, Jew, /97/ Christian, or Rāfiḍī 38 who engaged in this affair except that his religion dissolved completely! He would get rid of the burden of outward obligations, and even if he established them outwardly, he would be relieved from them inwardly. That is because he would perceive God as everything — but who, then, is the one who worships and who is worshipped? Who is the one who witnesses and who is witnessed? It is like one of [the monists] said: Your beauty is vivid in each of the realities It has no veil, save Your Majesty You are manifest to the created things behind their veils Hence, they disclose What is surrounded by the veils

We hope — God willing — that there will be sufficiency and guidance in this measure for whomever God wants to grant insight and guidance. After all, the intelligent and fair-minded person is able to draw conclusions from little regarding the greater lot, from the endings regarding the beginnings, and from the objectives regarding the foundations. We ask God, the Generous, to guide us on the way of peace, to take us out of the darkness into the light, and to guide us to the differentiation between divine unity and monism (ittiḥād)! He is the Ever-Near, the Answerer of prayers. Praise belongs to God alone! Complete and abundant salutations of peace and blessings be upon our Master Muḥammad, his family, and his companions! ARJAN POST KU Leuven

38

I.e. the Shi῾ī’s.

QUEEN IN A DIPLOMATIC GAME: ṬULUNBĀY, THE TATAR BRIDE OF SULTAN AL-NĀṢIR MUḤAMMAD 1. INTRODUCTION Women were not very visible in the Mamlūk society, but sometimes it is possible to catch a glimpse, as in the case of Ṭulunbāy. She left the territory of the Golden Horde in Southern Russia and traveled to Egypt to marry Mamlūk sultan al-Malik al-Nāṣir Muḥammad. The traces she left in the sources do not give an impression of her as a person, but are sufficient to sketch an outline of her life. For her story a combination is made of the tales as told by Ibn Khaldūn in his Kitāb al-῾Ibar and by al-Maqrīzī in his Kitāb al-Sulūk1, with additions from the Riḥla of Ibn Baṭṭūṭa.2 The quotations from Ibn Khaldūn and from al-Maqrīzī are my own translations; those from Ibn Baṭṭūṭa are taken from Gibb’s translation. In these sources, the designations Mongol (or, more correct, Moghul) and Tatar are used without a clear distinction.3 Originally, the Tatars were a tribe living north of China, they were incorporated in the Mongol conglomerate under Genghis Khān, that included nearly all of Russia.4 But their name lived on, to the present day one of the republics of the Russian confederation is called 1 Ibn Khaldūn, Kitābal-῾Ibarwa-Dīwānal-Mubtada’wa-l-Khabarfī῾Ayyāmal-῾Arabwa-l῾Ajamwa-l-Barbarwa-Man῾ĀṣarahumminDhawīl-Sulṭānal-Akbar, vols. I-VII (Cairo: Būlāq, 1867); idem, Tārīkhal-῾ĀllāmatiIbnKhaldūn, vols. I-VII(Bayrūt: Dār al-Kitāb al-Lubnānī, 1968). The citations are from ed. Būlāq V: 430-2; ed. Bayrūt V: 924-9. Taqī al-dīn al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-Sulūk li-Ma῾rifat Duwal al-Mulūk, ed. Muḥammad ῾Abd al-Qādir ῾Aṭā, vols. I-VIII (Bayrūt: Dār al-Kutub al-῾Ilmiyya, 1997), III: 23-115, esp. 25-26, 109-110. 2 Ibn Baṭṭūṭa, Riḥlat Ibn Baṭṭūṭa (Bayrūt: Dār Bayrūt, 1960); I consulted two translations: Ibn Battūta, Voyages, Traduction de C. Defrémery et B. R. Sanguinetti. Introduction et notes de Stéphane Yerasimos, vols. I-III (Paris: François Maspero, 1982). This edition is based on Voyages d’IbnBatoutah, texte Arabe, accompagné d’une traduction par C. Defrémery et B. R. Sanguinetti, vols. I-IV (Paris: 1853-58); reprinted as: Voyagesd’IbnBattûta, texte arabe accompagné d’une traduction par C. Defrémery et B. R. Sanguinetti; Réimpression de l’Edition de l’année 1854 augmentée d’une préface et de notes de Vincent Monteil de l’Institut Fondamental d’Afrique Noire, vols. I-IV (Paris: éditions Anthropos, [1969]). And: TheTravelsofIbnBaṭṭūṭaA.D.1325-1354, transl., with revisions and notes from the Arabic text by C. Defrémery and B. R. Sanguinetti, by H. A. R. Gibb [Works issued by the Hakluyt Society] vols. I-V (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958-2000), I (Second Series No. CX, 1956); II (Second Series No. CXVII, 1959). 3 See for a discussion on this question Josephine van den Bent, “’None of the Kings on Earth is Their Equal in ῾aṣabiyya”: The Mongols in Ibn Khaldūn’s Works”, Al-Masāq 28/2 (2016): 171-186; p. 173 n. 8. 4 For the history of Russia I consulted George Vernadsky, AHistoryofRussia (New Haven and London: Yale Universtity Press, 1929; revised since 19623). For the cultural impact of the Mongol presence see Orlando Figes, Natasha’sDance.AculturalhistoryofRussia (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2002), especially chapter 6, Descendants of Genghiz Khan.

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Tatarstan, with Kazan as its capital, with a mixed population of Muslims and Christians.5 The Europeans changed the word Tatars into Tartars, to express the horror they felt for these invaders by connecting them with Tartaros, the underworld of the classical mythology. Concerning the spelling of the names of the main characters, I chose to use the most familiar forms for the Mongol names in the text. In the translations I added the Arabic form at their first occurrence. 2. HISTORICAL BACKGROUND When this episode took place, there were interactions between three major parties: the Mamlūk sultanate of Egypt and Syria that was ruled by al-Nāṣir Muḥammad (r. 1293-1294, 1299-1309, 1310-1341), and two Mongol-dominated sultanates, successors to Genghis Khān’s extensive empire. The Golden Horde was founded by Bāṭū and his brother Berke in Southern Russia with the capital Ṣarāy on the Wolga and was ruled by Uzbeg Khān (r. 1313-1341).6 The Īl-Khānate in Iraq, Persia and beyond was founded by Hülagü after he had conquered Baghdad in 1258 and was ruled by Abū Sa῾īd (r. 1316-1335). The sultanate of the Īl-Khānids shared a border with the Mamlūk sultanate and had been a constant threat to Syria. As these two Mongol sultanates of The Golden Horde and the Īl-Khānids had a shared border in Khorāsān, east of the Caspian Sea, the policy of the Mamlūk sultans had been to incite the Īl-Khāns to fight the Golden Horde in Khorāsān to keep them busy far away from Syria. But in this period the animosity between the Golden Horde and the Īl-Khānids had diminished (but not completely disappeared) as both the rulers had finally converted to Islam. Uzbeg Khān was first, the Īl-Khānids had for a long time hesitated between their original Shamanism, Buddhism, Nestorian Christianity and Islam, but Abū Sa῾īd had finally decided for Islam. And maybe because of their conversion, the Mamlūk sultan had started peace negotiations with the Īl-Khānids. That is the frame within which Ibn Khaldūn tells the story of Ṭulunbāy. 3. DIPLOMATIC

RELATIONS STRENGTHENED BY MATRIMONIAL BONDS

For the Mongol rulers of Central Asia it was common practice to strengthen the ties between the various parts of their empire and with other friendly or subordinate rulers by matrimonial relations. The Byzantine Empire used that strategy, 5 Richard Covington, “Kazan: Between Europe and Asia”, SaudiAramcoWorldSeptember/ October 2011: 24-33. 6 It took its name after the Mongol word for camp, ordū, Arabic sources call it the Kingdom of the North.

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too. To mention a few examples: Uzbeg’s uncle and predecessor Tokhta married a Byzantine princess, an illegitimate daughter of the emperor Andronikos II Palaeologus (r. 1282-1328). Uzbeg himself married an illegitimate daughter of emperor Andronikos III Palaeologus (r. 1320-1341, from 1320-1328 together with Andronikos II), the lady Bayalūn whose story will be told later.7 The Īl-Khānids had relations with the Mongol ruler of China, Kubilay Khān. Marco Polo told in the prologue of his BookofMiracles the story of the Īl-Khān Arghūn (r. 12841291). His wife, Queen Bulagan, of the clan of Kubilay Khān, had died and he had requested Kubilay Khān to replace her with a woman of the same clan. That enabled Marco Polo and his father and uncle to return to Europe after many years of service to Kubilay Khān as they were chosen to escort the new wife of Arghūn, called Kokachin, “of great beauty and charm”, and another lady, daughter of the vanquished emperor of Southern China. When they arrived in Baghdad, after almost two years of travel with a fleet of 14 tall ships, Arghūn had died and the lady was given to his son Ghazan (r. 1295-1304). What happened to the other lady has not been recorded.8 This happened in the years 1292-1294, some 25 years before the events that follow. So the case of the marriage of Ṭulunbāy to strengthen the ties between the Golden Horde and the Mamlūk sultanate was not exceptional. 4. THE MARRIAGE OF SULTAN

AL-NĀṢIR

A PRINCESS OF THE

MUḤAMMAD WITH ṬULUNBĀY, GOLDEN HORDE

Ibn Khaldūn relates the story in a short report: “When in 713 (1313) Uzbeg (Uzbak; corrected from Unbak) of the Banū Jochi (Dūshī) Khān became ruler of Ṣarāy, and Quṭlughmīr was representative in Bilād al-Rūm9, the envoys of Egypt were sent to him as usual, and then Quṭlughmīr proposed to them the marriage of sultan al-Nāṣir with a woman of their family, on condition that the sultan openly expressed his wish, and they took time to put it into effect. They said that this was the habit of their rulers and the sultan did as advised. During six years he sent envoys and gifts until that was arranged between them. And in 720 (1320) they sent him as his fiancée Ṭulubnāsh, the daughter of Ṭughājī b. Handū (?) b. Berke10 b. Dūshī, accompanied by a distinguished Mongol, who was authorized to take command, and a group of their emirs and Burhān 7 Ibn Battūta, Voyages,II, De La Mecque aux steppes russes, Introduction p. 41. See also the English Wikipedia s.v. Toqta and s.v. Öz Beg Khan (consulted on 5-9-2016). 8 TheTravelsofMarcoPolo. Translated and with an introduction by Ronald Latham (Harmondsworth: Penguin Classics L57, many reprints since 1958); 8-10. 9 With Bilād al-Rūm the Byzantine Empire must be intended, not Anatolia. In this period, what usually is called Bilād al-Rūm was under the domination of the Īl-Khānids, the enemies of the Golden Horde. But with the Byzantines the Golden Horde had friendly relations. See Shai Har-El, StruggleforDominationintheMiddleEast.TheOttoman—MamlukWar1485-91 (Leiden-Boston: Brill, 1995), p. 34. 10 Corrected from bkr.

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al-Dīn, the imām of Uzbeg. They passed through Constantinople, the emperor11 showed them excessive generosity, it is said that he spent 60,000 dinars on them, and they sailed from there to Alexandria. Then they travelled to Cairo with her, she was sitting in a carriage behind golden and silken curtains, drawn by a horse that was driven by two of her servants, in an ostentatious show of distinction and dignity. When they were approaching Cairo two deputies [of the sultan], Arghūn and Baktamur al-Sāqī, rode out to meet them with the troops, together with Karīm al-Dīn, the authorized representative of the sultan. They brought the lady to the citadel, and on the third day after her arrival the judges, jurisconsults and other people in order of their ranks were convened in the mosque of the citadel, and the envoys that had come to them were also present after they had been given ceremonial dresses. The marriage contract was concluded by the representatives of the sultan and of Uzbeg, and then that gathering dissolved. It was a memorable day.”

The version of al-Maqrīzī has more details: “In this month Rabī῾ al-awwal [of the year 720/1320] Her Highness Queen Ṭulunbāy (or Dulunbaya, or Ṭūlūnaya), the daughter of Ṭughāy b. Handū (?) b. Bāṭū b. Jochi (Dūshī) Khān b. Genghis (Djinkiz) Khān arrived. That was the result of the sultan’s request to Uzbeg to be engaged to one of the princesses of the house of Genghis Khān. But Uzbeg asked an exaggerated dowry, took a long time and set a great number of conditions, so that the sultan despaired of the betrothal and sent him the [required] gifts. Uzbeg had already selected the aforementioned [princess]. He summoned the merchants and borrowed 30,000 dinars from them, at their usual rate of six dirhems for the dinar. He gave her an escort of one of his emirs with 150 men, 60 girls and the judge of Sāray, and the usual gifts. They sailed to Alexandria, where they arrived on the 20th of Rabī῾ al-awwal. The emir Aqbughā ῾Abd al-Wāḥid went with a number of emirs and the barques to meet her, and Karīm al-Dīn al-Kabīr went out with Bedouins, Bactrian camels and mules. He pitched silken satin tents on the Mīdān. The princess was taken with the barques to the harbor of Cairo, and rode to the square in the carriage, with the officers walking before it. She stayed three days in the tents. On Saturday night, the last of the month, she was carried to the citadel in a dome shaped carriage, covered with brocade, drawn by pulleys.12 Arghūn the deputy, the emir Baktamar al-Sāqī and the judge Karīm al-Dīn al-Kabīr stood to her attendance. On the 22th of Rabī῾ al-ākhir the sultan convened the envoys. Their leader Bāynājar was present, he was lame and could not stand or walk but had to be carried. With him entered Aytghalī, Ṭaqbughā, Manghūsh, Ṭurajī and ῾Uthmān Khujā, and sheikh Burhān al-Dīn the imām of the Qān, and envoys of the Byzantine emperor. He made Bāynājar sit down and took Uzbeg’s letter from him. It said, after the presentation of greetings: “You contacted your brother Uzbeg asking for a daughter of the Great Qān. And as we did not send one, you were not pleased. But we did send you [one] from a high-class family. If she pleases you, take her, as you will be 11

Lashkarī, from the former Byzantine dynasty of the Lascaris. Maya Termonia and Jo Van Steenbergen, Caïro.VanArabischtentenkamptotstadvan Duizend-en-een-nacht (641-1517) (Leuven: Davidsfonds, 2010), on p. 282-3 description of the citadel of Cairo as it was in the time of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad. The technique for bringing up carriages to the citadel is not mentioned, but techniques for transporting water from the Nile to he citadel by means of oxen driven pump stations demonstrate a level of engineering that makes such a device possible. 12

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adorned with no beauty greater than hers. And if not, do as the word of Allah says: ‘Truly, Allah commands you to bring those entrusted to you to their family’ (Sura 4: 58)”. The sultan said: “We were not seeking beauty but we wanted [a share in] the fame of the house and proximity to our brother, for we and him, we are one”. Burhān al-Dīn adressed him also orally in the name of Uzbeg. The judge-in-chief Badr al-Dīn b. Jamā῾a drafted the contract, to the amount of 30,000 dinars, 20,000 thereof [to be paid] immediately, and 10,000 later. The sultan in person agreed with that, and the secretary ῾Alā’ al-Dīn ῾Alī al-Athīr wrote the contract in his own hand. It had after the greeting this form: “This is the dowry that the sublime sultan al-Mālik al-Nāṣir approved for the noble queen, daughter of my brother sultan Uzbeg Khān: Ṭūlū, daughter of Ṭughāy b. Berke13 b. Dūshī Khān b. Jinkiz Khān”. That day, the sultan distributed 500 ceremonial dresses; it was a memorable day. The same night he consummated the marriage with her, but she she did not comply with his wishes. In the morning he gave orders to Karīm al-Dīn Akram al-Ṣaghīr to go in the direction of Upper-Egypt and to Qūṣ to prepare for stays, he supplied gifts and presents to the envoys and sent them away, and he rode out to go hunting.”14

Both stories agree that it took a long time of negotiations before the marriage was arranged. Uzbeg was the one to be blamed for that, but seemed finally rather eager to make the deal, borrowed money for it (to the same amount as the dowry) and selected a suitable girl, not his daughter but a girl belonging to the clan. Her descent is given in both stories, but in the version of Ibn Khaldūn she was descended from Ghengis Khān through Berke, in al-Maqrīzī’s through Bāṭū. Both stories omitted how she with her escort travelled from the Wolga to Constantinople, a considerable distance and no easy going. That gap can be filled with a report by Ibn Baṭṭūṭa, who in 732/1332 covered the same distance under the protection of Bayalūn, the Byzantine princess married to Uzbeg, who went back to her father’s realm to give birth to the child she was bearing. Ibn Baṭṭūṭa’s story is too long to quote, but a summary will give an idea.15 Bayalūn was accompanied by far more people than Ṭulunbāy. They made use of 400 wagons, and 2000 horses, some 300 oxen and 200 hundred camels to draw them and for riding. And that was only part of her personnel; she had left most of her attendants with Uzbeg in the ordū. First they went down the Wolga to the Caspian Sea, then west to the Sea of Azof and the Crimea. “At every halting place in this land there was brought to the khātūn a hospitality gift of horses, sheep, cattle, dūgī, qumizz, and cows and sheep’s milk”. This treatment Ṭulunbāy might also have got, but on a lesser scale. Between the last town of Uzbeg’s kingdom and the beginning of the Byzantine territory was an uninhabited waste of 18 days traveling, on 8 days no water was available. That had to be carried in skins, together with the other provisions. When they had reached Greek territory, 13

See note 12. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 25-26. 15 RiḥlatIbnBaṭṭūṭa, 344-349; Gibb, TheTravelsofIbnBaṭṭūṭa, II: 498-504; Voyagesd’Ibn Battûta, II: 412-426; Ibn Battūta, Voyages, II: 236-245. 14

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they left the waggons behind and rode further on mules and horses. In 22 days they reached Constantinople, after a difficult crossing of the estuary of the Danube on the 16th day. After the crossing, the princess was welcomed by her brothers accompanied by many horsemen in splendid attire. At last they entered the city: “At dawn, the drums, trumpets and fifes were sounded, the troops mounted, and the sultan and his wife, the mother of this khātūn, came out with the officers of state and the courtiers”. Ibn Baṭṭūṭa’s story raises several questions; many of its details are impossible or even definitely wrong. But the essence of the voyage, about two months travelling in wagons or on horseback or mule, to cover the distance between Ṣarāy and Constantinople must have been the same for Ṭulunbāy. And the splendour of her reception in Constantinople, comparable to the reception of Bayalūn by her family, was worthy of a girl related to the rulers of the Golden Horde with whom the Byzantine imperial family not only had an alliance but were, then and later, also connected by family ties. That Byzantine envoys later were present at the wedding ceremony in Cairo also testifies that she was of importance to the emperor. 5. FESTIVITIES AT SULTAN

AL-NĀṢIR

MUḤAMMAD’S

COURT

Ibn Khaldūn reports the ceremony of drafting and signing the marriage contract, as does al-Maqrīzī, but neither of them mentions the wedding feast that normally follows when the formalities are over. Obviously there was no wedding-party. Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad went hunting the next day and prepared a visit to the south of Egypt, as al-Maqrīzī reports This is the more poignant if compared with the celebrations and parties that accompanied the weddings of his daughters a few years later, as described by al-Maqrīzī: “On Monday the 18th of Sha῾bān [of the year 723/1323] the wedding of the emir ῾ Alī b. Arghūn, the deputy, with the daughter of the sultan took place. The sultan had paid great attention to her furnishings, he had ordered to be made for her a four-poster bed with a mosquito-net, curtains and roundabout sofa’s of brocade to the cost of 80,000 dinars, and vessels of gold and silver for almost 10,000 dinars. The sultan had built for her a reception room with pillars, a new structure into which he had the furniture carried, and he occupied himself with the fixing of the furnishings. The wives of the emirs brought him their gifts, varying between 400 dinars — or its equivalent in pieces of cloth — and 200 dinars. Eight bands of singers from Cairo were present, and 20 bands of slave girls of the sultan and the emirs.”16

16 Concluding of the contract (722): al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 55; the wedding (723): al-Sulūk III: 65-66. In the contract Arghūn’s son is called Abū Bakr, in the report on the wedding ῾Alī. Ibn Baṭṭūṭa met him later in Mecca, and called him Abū Bakr.

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The wedding of another daughter in 727/1327 to the emir Qawṣūn was also a big affair: “The wedding lasted seven days, 5000 sheep, 100 cows, 50 horses and an uncounted amount of chickens and geese were slaughtered. For sweets and to sweeten food and drinks 11,000 sugarloaves were used, and the weight of the wax that the emirs supplied reached 311 qinṭārs. The gifts of the emirs to Qawṣūn amounted to 50,000 dinars. The emir Qajlīs made on the citadel a tower of gunpowder and naphtha, he was paid 30,000 dirhams.”17

Also at other occasions, such as the pilgrimage of a concubine and her return, no costs were spared, as we may conclude from al-Maqrīzī’s report: “On mid-Jumādā al-ākhira [721/1321] Lady Ṭughāy gave birth to a son to the sultan that he named Anūk. This Ṭughāy was a Turkish slave girl bought by Tankiz, the governor of Syria, from Damascus for 90,000 dirhams, and sent to the sultan. (...) The khātūn Ṭughāy was in the favour of the sultan; she was of outstanding beauty. When she had given birth the sultan’s action was exaggerated, he offered her a voyage to the Ḥijāz to make the pilgrimage. Karīm al-Dīn started the preparations and the emir Tankiz also asked for permission to make the pilgrimage, and was allowed to.”18 “Gifts from the governors of Syria arrived for the voyage of the khātūn Ṭughāy to the Ḥijāz. The emir Arghūn, the deputy, had ordered 8 carriages, as they are usual in the land of the Turks to be made for her to travel in, and drew them into the stable. The sultan liked them and rewarded him for them. The deputy and the chamberlains departed to the pilgrims’ pond to attend to her, she started travelling on Wednesday the 27th of Shawwāl [721/1321], accompanied by the leaders Ṣārūjā and Baktīsh, the sultan’s insignia were raised over her, the small drums were beaten behind her, herbs, greens and sweet basil sown in earth in pots were carried along. Never a voyage of a royal woman like her voyage has been witnessed.”19 “On Thursday the 21th [of Muḥarram of the year 722/1322] the judge Karīm al-Dīn al-Kabīr and the emir Qajlīs arrived accompanying the khātūn Ṭughāy. The sultan rode out to meet her at the pilgrims’ pond, gave a great banquet and presented to all the emirs, the household managers and stewards, like the mistress of the harem known as the mistress of the accounts, and to the wives of the emirs ceremonial robes and let them all go to their houses. It was a memorable day. A comparable pilgrimage was not heard of, seeing to the amount of its charitable deeds and the extent of the gifts. It is said that the sultan spent on the pilgrimage of Ṭughāy the amount of 80,000 dinars and 680,000 dirhams, exclusive of the hire of the litters, the cost of the camels and the expenses for wages, and exclusive of the gifts of the emirs of Syria and Egypt.”20

17

Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 101-102. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 48. The baby obviously soon died, for next year Ṭughāy gave birth to a son who was also called Ānūk, Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 61. This one lived until the year of his father’s death in 741, al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 324. 19 Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 48. 20 Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 53. 18

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6. ṬULUNBĀY’S LATER LIFE For political reasons that will be discussed in the next paragraph, it is clear that he marriage with Ṭulunbāy had lost every meaning, if it ever had any. But before the marriage contract was dissolved, she was obviously allowed to perform the pilgrimage. Ibn Baṭṭūṭa reported to have met her in Mecca in the year 726 (1326): “The date of my first ‘Standing’ [at ῾Arafā] was a Thursday, in the year [7]26, the commander of the Egyptian caravan at that time being Arghūn the dawādār, the lieutenant of al-Malik al-Nāṣir. In the same year, the daughter of al-Malik al-Nāṣir, wife of Arghūn’s son Abū Bakr, came on pilgrimage, and likewise the wife of al-Malik al-Nāṣir, called al-Khunda, she being the daughter of the exalted Sultan Muḥammad Uzbak, king of Al-Sarā and Khawārazm.”21

Ibn Baṭṭūṭa was not well informed about her name, al Khunda. It is misread by Gibb, it should be al-khawand, but it is not a name but a title and means lady. Ibn Baṭṭūṭa was also misinformed about her ancestry; obviously she was presented deliberately as daughter of Uzbeg, as in the marriage contract. In the company is another woman, the earlier mentioned daughter of the sultan, wife of Abū Bakr, the son of Arghūn, whose marriage was recorded by al-Maqrīzī. That Arghūn was in Mecca with his son is confirmed by al-Maqrīzī. It was his last performance as deputy and confident of the sultan, he fell victim to the jealousy of rivals. Al-Nāṣir Muḥammad had tried in vain to stop Arghūn’s travelling to Mecca, after his return to Cairo he fell out of favour, his belongings were confiscated and he was banished to Aleppo.22 But al-Maqrīzī says nothing about the presence of Ṭulunbāy, nor does he mention the daughter of the sultan. Ṭulunbāy’s marriage to al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ended two years later: “On the 29th [of Shawwāl of the year 728/1328] the marriage contract was concluded of queen Ṭulubāy, who had come from the land of Uzbeg, with Sayf al-Dīn Munkalī Bughā, the Swordbearer, after the sultan had divorced her and her legal period of waiting had expired. On the 8th of Dhū l-Qa῾da Sayf al-Dīn consumated the marriage.”23

Thereafter the sources are silent about Ṭulunbāy, the girl of the Golden Horde. But a few obviously false assertions are current. On the Internet, on many Wikipedia pages where she is called Tulunbuya, can be read that she died 8 years after marrying sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad, but that is in contradiction with al-Maqrīzī’s report. In the description of the mausoleum of Ṭūlūbāy, which is situated in the northern cemetery of Cairo, a story is quoted that she had been 21 RiḥlatIbnBaṭṭūṭa,170; Gibb, TheTravelsofIbnBaṭṭūṭa, I: 245; Voyagesd’IbnBattûta, I: 399-400; Ibn Battūta, Voyages, I: 347. 22 Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 92, 95-6. 23 Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 109-110.

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married to al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s son and successor al-Nāṣir Ḥasan (r. 13471351; 1354-1361), but with the conclusion that it must have been named after another woman of that name, who died in 1364.24 Al-Nāṣir Ḥasan married indeed a woman called Ṭūlūbāy and after his death she was remarried to the emir Yalbughā al-Khāṣṣakī. 25 7. THE PEACE TREATY

BETWEEN AL-NĀṢIR

MUḤAMMAD AND ABŪ SA῾ĪD

Already in 720, the year of the wedding, negotiations had started between al-Nāṣir Muḥammad and the Īl-Khān Abū Sa῾īd.26 Abū Sa῾īd was interested in making the pilgrimage, he sought the protection of the Egyptian sultan against the Bedouins who were the true masters of the desert, and he proposed cooperation. In 723 the peace treaty had been concluded and was formally confirmed by oaths of both the rulers. As al-Maqrīzī reports, there were repeated proposals for marriage bonds between the sultan and Abū Sa῾īd, but if that materialized is unclear.27 Uzbeg was not amused, of course, he had claimed the support of the sultan and did not get it, and was now passed by for Abū Sa῾īd. In the words of Ibn Khaldūn: “Between Coban (Jūbān) and Subūl, the ruler of Kwarizm and Transoxania, a feud reigned wherein Uzbeg played a role, he supported him (sc. Subūl) with troops. Uzbeg was master over most of Khorasān and after he and al-Nāṣir had become in-laws he demanded al-Nāṣir’s support against Abū Sa῾īd and Coban, and he had complied with it. But then Abū Sa῾īd requested peace, as we have told, and he preferred that and concluded a treaty with him. The report reached Uzbeg and the envoys of al-Nāṣir at his court, and he adressed them in rough words and blamed him. Al-Nāṣir offered him excuses, saying that they had only invited them to organize the rites of Islam, which he could not refuse, and he accepted that.”28

In later years the friendship between al-Nāṣir Muḥammad and Abū Sa῾īd became even closer by the struggle with their respective enemies, Qarāsunqur and Damurdāsh. That is a fascinating story in its own right; in short this is what happened. Al-Nāṣir Muḥammad hated the emir Qarāsunqur for the role he played in the murder of his brother and predecessor al-Ashraf (r. 1341-1342). 24

Termonia and Van Steenbergen, Caïro, 359. Jo Van Steenbergen, OrderOutofChaos.Patronage,ConflictandMamlukSocio-Political Culture,1314-1382 (Leiden-Boston: Brill, 2006), p. 96. Jo Van Steenbergen, “The Amir Yalbughā al-Khāṣṣakī, the Qalāwūnid Sultanate, and the Cultural Matrix of Mamlūk Society. A Reassessment of Mamlūk Politics in the 1360s”, JournaloftheAmericanOrientalSociety 131/3 (2011): 423-443, esp. 435. 26 Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 29-30, an enumeration of the conditions; 55, 61, 63. Also Ibn Khaldūn, Kitābal-῾Ibar ed. Būlāq V: 431 / ed. Bayrūt V: 929. 27 Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 74 (724), 88 (726). 28 Ibn Khaldūn, Kitābal-῾Ibar ed. Būlāq V: 431-2 / ed. Bayrūt V: 927; al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 48 (721), 53-4 (722). 25

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After he had tried to kill him, Qarāsunqur fled to the Īl-Khānids, where he was well received. But even there he was several times unsuccesfully attacked by murderers sent by al-Nāṣir Muḥammad. Damurdāsh was the son of Abū Sa῾īd’s dominating vizier Coban, who had sought protection in Egypt after his father and brothers had been killed by Abū Sa῾īd. In 728/1328 the culminating point was reached, Abū Sa῾īd and al-Nāṣir Muḥammad made a deal and became partners in crime. Abū Sa῾īd proposed to al-Nāṣir: I will send Qarāsunqur to you if you kill Damurdāsh. So al-Nāṣir Muḥammad did, or at least allowed the killing of Damurdāsh and sent his head to Abū Sa῾īd. Abū Sa῾īd did not succeed in sending Qarāsunqur who died that same year, by whose hand is not recorded, maybe he committed suicide when he had understood Abū Sa῾īd’s intention.29 8. CONCLUSION The marriage of Ṭulunbāy with al-Nāṣir Muḥammad was a failure from the start. It was insult upon insult. Uzbeg did not send the princess that was promised, and al-Nāṣir Muḥammad did not get what he desired from the girl that became his legal spouse. After all, she was only one of four legal spouses and had to share the sultan’s attention with a vast harem.30 He preferred his concubine Ṭughāy and other pleasure girls, as reported by al-Maqrīzī. In retrospect, the marriage came too late. The interest of a relation strengthened by marriage as a counterweight to the threat of the Īl-Khānids was no longer as vital as when the negotiations started. Uzbeg had simply waited too long, and why he, being aware of the change, did not cancel the agreement escapes understanding. And why the sultan accepted the inferior bride, although the pretention that she was a daughter of Uzbeg’s was upheld, is also a mystery. Both might have seen it as an insurance against worsening relations with the Īl-Khānids. TH. MARITA WIJNTJES31 Bussum

29

The story of Damurdāsh and Coban in al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk III: 82, 89, 105-111, 113-4. Termonia and Van Steenbergen, Caïro, 283, description of the living quarters of the legal spouses and the harem. 31 Author’s name of Th. M. Koornwinder-Wijntjes. 30

ORIENTALIA LOVANIENSIA ANALECTA 1. E. LIPIŃSKI, Studies in Aramaic Inscriptions and Onomastics I. 2. J. QUAEGEBEUR, Le dieu égyptien Shaï dans la religion et l’onomastique. 3. P.H.L. EGGERMONT, Alexander’s Campaigns in Sind and Baluchistan and the Siege of the Brahmin Town of Harmatelia. 4. W.M. CALLEWAERT, The Sarvangī of the Dadupanthī Rajab. 5. E. LIPIŃSKI (ed.), State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East I. 6. E. LIPIŃSKI (ed.), State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East II. 7. M.-C. DE GRAEVE, The Ships of the Ancient Near East (c. 2000-500 B.C.). 8. W.M. CALLEWAERT (ed.), Early Hindī Devotional Literature in Current Research. 9. F.L. DAMEN, Crisis and Religious Renewal in the Brahmo Samaj Movement (1860-1884). 10. R.Y. EBIED, A. VAN ROEY, L.R. WICKHAM, Peter of Callinicum, Anti-Tritheist Dossier. 11. A. RAMMANT-PEETERS, Les pyramidions égyptiens du Nouvel Empire. 12. S. SCHEERS (ed.), Studia Paulo Naster Oblata I. Numismatica Antiqua. 13. J. QUAEGEBEUR (ed.), Studia Paulo Naster Oblata II. Orientalia Antiqua. 14. E. PLATTI, Yahya ibn ῾Adī, théologien chrétien et philosophe arabe. 15. E. GUBEL, E. LIPIŃSKI, B. SERVAIS-SOYEZ (eds.), Studia Phoenicia I-II. 16. W. SKALMOWSKI, A. VAN TONGERLOO (eds.), Middle Iranian Studies. 17. M. VAN MOL, Handboek Modern Arabisch. 18. C. LAGA, J.A. MUNITIZ, L. VAN ROMPAY (eds.), After Chalcedon. Studies in Theology and Church History. 19. E. LIPIŃSKI (ed.), The Land of Israel: Cross-Roads of Civilizations. 20. S. WACHSMANN, Aegeans in the Theban Tombs. 21. K. VAN LERBERGHE, Old Babylonian Legal and Administrative Texts from Philadelphia. 22. E. LIPIŃSKI (ed.), Phoenicia and the East Mediterranean in the First Millennium B.C. 23. M. HELTZER, E. LIPIŃSKI (eds.), Society and Economy in the Eastern Mediterranean (1500-1000 B.C.). 24. M. VAN DE MIEROOP, Crafts in the Early Isin Period: a Study of the Isin Craft Archive from the Reigns of Išbi-Erra and Šu-Ilišu. 25. G. POLLET (ed.), India and the Ancient World. History, Trade and Culture before A.D. 650. 26. E. LIPIŃSKI (ed.), Carthago. 27. E. VERREET, Modi Ugaritici. Eine morpho-syntaktische Abhandlung über das Modalsystem im Ugaritischen. 28. R. ZADOK, The Pre-Hellenistic Israelite Anthroponomy and Prosopography. 29. W. CALLEWAERT, M. LATH, The Hindī Songs of Namdev. 30. A. SHISHA-HALEVY, Coptic Grammatical Chrestomathy. 31. N. BAUM, Arbres et arbustes de l’Égypte ancienne. 32. J.-M. KRUCHTEN, Les Annales des prêtres de Karnak (XXIe-XXIIIe dynasties) et autres textes relatifs à l’initation des prêtres d’Amon. 33. H. DEVIJVER, E. LIPIŃSKI (eds.), Punic Wars. 34. E. VASSILIKA, Ptolemaic Philae. 35. A. GHAITH, La Pensée Religieuse chez Gubrân Halil Gubrân et Mihâ᾿îl Nu῾ayma. 36. N. BEAUX, Le Cabinet de curiosités de Thoutmosis III. 37. G. POLLET, P. EGGERMONT, G. VAN DAMME, Corpus Topographicum Indiae Antiquae. Part II: Archaeological Sites. 38. S.-A. NAGUIB, Le Clergé féminin d’Amon thébain à la 21e dynastie. 39. U. VERHOEVEN, E. GRAEFE (eds.), Religion und Philosophie im Alten Ägypten. Festgabe für Philippe Derchain zu seinem 65. Geburtstag. 40. A.R. GEORGE, Babylonian Topographical Texts. 41. A. SCHOORS, The Preacher Sought to Find Pleasing Words. A Study of the Language of Qohelet. Part I: Grammatical Features.

42. G. REININK, H.E.J. VAN STIPHOUT (eds.), Dispute Poems and Dialogues in the Ancient and Mediaeval Near East. 43. C. TRAUNECKER, Coptos. Hommes et dieux sur le parvis de Geb. 44. E. LIPIŃSKI (ed.), Phoenicia and the Bible. 45. L. ISEBAERT (ed.), Studia Etymologica Indoeuropaea Memoriae A.J. Van Windekens dicata. 46. F. BRIQUEL-CHATONNET, Les relations entre les cités de la côte phénicienne et les royaumes d’Israël et de Juda. 47. W.J. VAN BEKKUM, A Hebrew Alexander Romance according to MS London, Jews’ College no. 145. 48. W. SKALMOWSKI, A. VAN TONGERLOO (eds.), Medioiranica. 49. L. LAUWERS, Igor’-Severjanin, His Life and Work — The Formal Aspects of His Poetry. 50. R.L. VOS, The Apis Embalming Ritual. P. Vindob. 3873. 51. Fr. LABRIQUE, Stylistique et Théologie à Edfou. Le rituel de l’offrande de la campagne: étude de la composition. 52. F. DE JONG (ed.), Miscellanea Arabica et Islamica. 53. G. BREYER, Etruskisches Sprachgut im Lateinischen unter Ausschluß des spezifisch onomastischen Bereiches. 54. P.H.L. EGGERMONT, Alexander’s Campaign in Southern Punjab. 55. J. QUAEGEBEUR (ed.), Ritual and Sacrifice in the Ancient Near East. 56. A. VAN ROEY, P. ALLEN, Monophysite Texts of the Sixth Century. 57. E. LIPIŃSKI, Studies in Aramaic Inscriptions and Onomastics II. 58. F.R. HERBIN, Le livre de parcourir l’éternité. 59. K. GEUS, Prosopographie der literarisch bezeugten Karthager. 60. A. SCHOORS, P. VAN DEUN (eds.), Philohistôr. Miscellanea in honorem Caroli Laga septuagenarii. 61. M. KRAUSE, S. GIVERSEN, P. NAGEL (eds.), Coptology. Past, Present and Future. Studies in Honour of R. Kasser. 62. C. LEITZ, Altägyptische Sternuhren. 63. J.J. CLÈRE, Les Chauves d’Hathor. 64. E. LIPIŃSKI, Dieux et déesses de l’univers phénicien et punique. 65. K. VAN LERBERGHE, A. SCHOORS (eds.), Immigration and Emigration within the Ancient Near East. Festschrift E. Lipiński. 66. G. POLLET (ed.), Indian Epic Values. Ramayana and its impact. 67. D. DE SMET, La quiétude de l’Intellect. Néoplatonisme et gnose ismaélienne dans l’œuvre de Hamîd ad-Dîn al-Kirmânî (Xe-XIe s.). 68. M.L. FOLMER, The Aramaic Language in the Achaemenid Period. A Study in Linguistic Variation. 69. S. IKRAM, Choice Cuts: Meat Production in Ancient Egypt. 70. H. WILLEMS, The Coffin of Heqata (Cairo JdE 36418). A Case Study of Egyptian Funerary Culture of the Early Middle Kingdom. 71. C. EDER, Die Ägyptischen Motive in der Glyptik des östlichen Mittelmeerraumes zu Anfang des 2. Jts. v. Chr. 72. J. THIRY, Le Sahara libyen dans l’Afrique du Nord médiévale. 73. U. VERMEULEN, D. DE SMET (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras I. 74. P. ARÈNES, La déesse sGrol-Ma (Tara). Recherches sur la nature et le statut d’une divinité du bouddhisme tibétain. 75. K. CIGGAAR, A. DAVIDS, H. TEULE (eds.), East and West in the Crusader States. Context – Contacts – Confrontations I. 76. M. BROZE, Mythe et Roman en Égypte ancienne. Les Aventures d’Horus et Seth dans le papyrus Chester Beatty I. 77. L. DEPUYDT, Civil Calendar and Lunar Calendar in Ancient Egypt. 78. P. WILSON, A Ptolemaic Lexikon. A Lexicographical Study of the Texts in the Temple of Edfu.

79. A. HASNAWI, A. ELAMRANI, M. JAMAL, M. AOUAD (eds.), Perspectives arabes et médiévales sur la tradition scientifique et philosophique grecque. 80. E. LIPIŃSKI, Semitic Languages: Outline of a Comparative Grammar. 81. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara I. Traduction. 82. C. EYRE (ed.), Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Egyptologists. 83. U. VERMEULEN, D. DE SMET (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras II. 84-85. W. CLARYSSE, A. SCHOORS, H. WILLEMS (eds.), Egyptian Religion. The Last Thousand Years. 86. U. VERMEULEN, J.M. VAN REETH (eds.), Law, Christianity and Modernism in Islamic Society. 87. U. VERMEULEN, D. DE SMET (eds.), Philosophy and Arts in the Islamic World. 88. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara II. Traduction. 89. G.J. REININK, A.C. KLUGKIST (eds.), After Bardaisan. Studies on Continuity and Change in Syriac Christianity in Honour of Professor Han J.W. Drijvers. 90. C.R. KRAHMALKOV, Phoenician-Punic Dictionary. 91. M. TAHTAH, Entre pragmatisme, réformisme et modernisme. Le rôle politicoreligieux des Khattabi dans le Rif (Maroc) jusqu’à 1926. 92. K. CIGGAAR, H. TEULE (eds.), East and West in the Crusader States. Context – Contacts – Confrontations II. 93. A.C.J. VERHEIJ, Bits, Bytes, and Binyanim. A Quantitative Study of Verbal Lexeme Formations in the Hebrew Bible. 94. W.M. CALLEWAERT, D. TAILLIEU, F. LALEMAN, A Descriptive Bibliography of Allama Muhammad Iqbal (1877-1938). 95. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara III. Traduction. 96. K. VAN LERBERGHE, G. VOET (eds.), Languages and Cultures in Contact: At the Crossroads of Civilizations in the Syro-Mesopotamian Realm. 97. A. CABROL, Les voies processionnelles de Thèbes. 98. J. PATRICH (ed.), The Sabaite Heritage in the Orthodox Church from the Fifth Century to the Present. Monastic Life, Liturgy, Theology, Literature, Art, Archaeology. 99. U.VERHOEVEN, Untersuchungen zur späthieratischen Buchschrift. 100. E. LIPIŃSKI, The Aramaeans: Their Ancient History, Culture, Religion. 101. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara IV. Traduction. 102. U. VERMEULEN, J. VAN STEENBERGEN (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras III. 103. H. WILLEMS (ed.), Social Aspects of Funerary Culture in the Egyptian Old and Middle Kingdoms. 104. K. GEUS, K. ZIMMERMANN (eds.), Punica – Libyca – Ptolemaica. Festschrift für Werner Huß, zum 65. Geburtstag dargebracht von Schülern, Freunden und Kollegen. 105. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara. Les fêtes d’Hathor. 106. R. PREYS, Les complexes de la demeure du sistre et du trône de Rê. Théologie et décoration dans le temple d’Hathor à Dendera. 107. A. BLASIUS, B.U. SCHIPPER (eds.), Apokalyptik und Ägypten. Eine kritische Analyse der relevanten Texte aus dem griechisch-römischen Ägypten. 108. S. LEDER (ed.), Studies in Arabic and Islam. 109. A. GODDEERIS, Economy and Society in Northern Babylonia in the Early Old Babylonian Period (ca. 2000-1800 BC). 110. C. LEITZ (ed.), Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, Band I. 111. C. LEITZ (ed.), Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, Band II. 112. C. LEITZ (ed.), Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, Band III. 113. C. LEITZ (ed.), Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, Band IV. 114. C. LEITZ (ed.), Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, Band V. 115. C. LEITZ (ed.), Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, Band VI. 116. C. LEITZ (ed.), Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, Band VII. 117. M. VAN MOL, Variation in Modern Standard Arabic in Radio News Broadcasts.

118. M.F.J. BAASTEN, W.Th VAN PEURSEN (eds.), Hamlet on a Hill. Semitic and Greek Studies Presented to Professor T. Muraoka on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday. 119. O.E. KAPER, The Egyptian God Tutu. A Study of the Sphinx-God and Master of Demons with a Corpus of Monuments. 120. E. WARDINI, Lebanese Place-Names (Mount Lebanon and North Lebanon). 121. J. VAN DER VLIET, Catalogue of the Coptic Inscriptions in the Sudan National Museum at Khartoum (I. Khartoum Copt.). 122. A. ŁAJTAR, Catalogue of the Greek Inscriptions in the Sudan National Museum at Khartoum (I. Khartoum Greek). 123. H. NIEHR, Ba῾alšamem. Studien zu Herkunft, Geschichte und Rezeptionsgeschichte eines phönizischen Gottes. 124. H. WILLEMS, F. COPPENS, M. DE MEYER, P. DILS, The Temple of Shanhûr. Volume I: The Sanctuary, The Wabet, and the Gates of the Central Hall and the Great Vestibule (1-98). 125. K. CIGGAAR, H.G.B. TEULE (eds.), East and West in the Crusader States. Context – Contacts – Confrontations III. 126. T. SOLDATJENKOVA, E. WAEGEMANS (eds.), For East is East. Liber Amicorum Wojciech Skalmowski. 127. E. LIPIŃSKI, Itineraria Phoenicia. 128. D. BUDDE, S. SANDRI, U. VERHOEVEN (eds.), Kindgötter im Ägypten der griechischrömischen Zeit. Zeugnisse aus Stadt und Tempel als Spiegel des Interkulturellen Kontakts. 129. C. LEITZ (ed.), Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, Band VIII. 130. E.J. VAN DER STEEN, Tribes and Territories in Transition. 131. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara V-VI. Traduction. Les cryptes du temple d’Hathor. 132. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara V-VI. Index phraséologique. Les cryptes du temple d’Hathor. 133. M. IMMERZEEL, J. VAN DER VLIET, M. KERSTEN, C. VAN ZOEST (eds.), Coptic Studies on the Threshold of a New Millennium. Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Coptic Studies. Leiden, August 27 - September 2, 2000. 134. J.J. VAN GINKEL, H.L. MURRE-VAN DEN BERG, T.M. VAN LINT (eds.), Redefining Christian Identity. Cultural Interaction in the Middle East since the Rise of Islam. 135. J. MONTGOMERY (ed.), ‘Abbasid Studies. Occasional Papers of the School of ‘Abbasid Studies, Cambridge, 6-10 July 2002. 136. T. BOIY, Late Achaemenid and Hellenistic Babylon. 137. B. JANSSENS, B. ROOSEN, P. VAN DEUN (eds.), Philomathestatos. Studies in Greek Patristic and Byzantine Texts Presented to Jacques Noret for his Sixty-Fifth Birthday. 138. S. HENDRICKX, R.F. FRIEDMAN, K.M. CIAŁOWICZ, M. CHŁODNICKI (eds.), Egypt at its Origins. Studies in Memory of Barbara Adams. 139. R. ARNZEN, J. THIELMANN (eds.), Words, Texts and Concepts Cruising the Mediterranean Sea. Studies on the Sources, Contents and Influences of Islamic Civilization and Arabic Philosophy and Science. 140. U. VERMEULEN, J. VAN STEENBERGEN (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras IV. 141. H.T. DAVIES, Yusuf al-􀆴irbīnī’s Kitab Hazz al-Quhuf bi-􀆴arh Qasīd Abī 􀆴aduf (“Brains Confounded by the Ode of Abu 􀆴aduf Expounded”). Volume I: Arabic text. 142. P. VAN NUFFELEN, Un héritage de paix et de piété. Étude sur les histoires ecclésiastiques de Socrate et de Sozomène. 143. A. SCHOORS, The Preacher Sought to Find Pleasing Words. A Study of the Language of Qoheleth. Part II: Vocabulary. 144. M.E. STONE, Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha and Armenian Studies. Collected Papers: Volume 1. 145. M.E. STONE, Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha and Armenian Studies. Collected Papers: Volume 2.

146. M. CACOUROS, M.-H. CONGOURDEAU (eds.), Philosophie et sciences à Byzance de 1204 à 1453. Les textes, les doctrines et leur transmission. 147. K. CIGGAAR, M. METCALF (eds.), East and West in the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean I. 148. B. MICHALAK-PIKULSKA, A. PIKULSKI (eds.), Authority, Privacy and Public Order in Islam. 149. E. CZERNY, I. HEIN, H. HUNGER, D. MELMAN, A. SCHWAB (eds.), Timelines. Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak. 150. J.-Cl. GOYON, C. CARDIN (eds.), Proceedings of the Ninth International Congress of Egyptologists. Actes du neuvième congrès international des Égyptologues. Grenoble, 6-12 septembre 2004. 151. S. SANDRI, Har-pa-chered (Harpokrates). Die Genese eines ägyptischen Götterkindes. 152. J.E. MONTGOMERY (ed.), Arabic Theology, Arabic Philosophy. From the Many to the One: Essays in Celebration of Richard M. Frank. 153. E. LIPIŃSKI, On the Skirts of Canaan in the Iron Age. Historical and Topographical Researches. 154. M. MINAS-NERPEL, Der Gott Chepri. Untersuchungen zu Schriftzeugnissen und ikonographischen Quellen vom Alten Reich bis in griechisch-römische Zeit. 155. H. WILLEMS, Dayr al-Barsha Volume I. The Rock Tombs of Djehutinakht (No. 17K74/1), Khnumnakht (No. 17K74/2), and Iha (No. 17K74/3). With an Essay on the History and Nature of Nomarchal Rule in the Early Middle Kingdom. 156. J. BRETSCHNEIDER, J. DRIESSEN, K. VAN LERBERGHE (eds.), Power and Architecture. Monumental Public Architecture in the Bronze Age Near East and Aegean. 157. A. CAMPLANI, G. FILORAMO (eds.), Foundations of Power and Conflicts of Authority in Late Antique Monasticism. 158. J. TAVERNIER, Iranica in the Achaemenid Period (ca. 550-330 B.C.). Lexicon of Old Iranian Proper Namesand Loanwords, Attested in Non-Iranian Texts. 159. P. KOUSOULIS, K. MAGLIVERAS (eds.), Moving Across Borders. Foreign Relations, Religion and Cultural Interactions in the Ancient Mediterranean. 160. A. SHISHA-HALEVY, Topics in Coptic Syntax: Structural Studies in the Bohairic Dialect. 161. B. LURSON, Osiris, Ramsès, Thot et le Nil. Les chapelles secondaires des temples de Derr et Ouadi es-Seboua. 162. G. DEL OLMO LETE (ed.), Mythologie et Religion des Sémites occidentaux. 163. N. BOSSON, A. BOUD’HORS (eds.), Actes du huitième congrès international d’études coptes. Paris, 28 juin - 3 juillet 2004. 164. A. BERLEJUNG, P. VAN HECKE (eds.), The Language of Qohelet in Its Context. Essays in Honour of Prof. A. Schoors on the Occasion of his Seventieth Birthday. 165. A.G.C. SAVVIDES, Byzantino-Normannica. The Norman Capture of Italy and the First Two Invasions in Byzantium. 166. H.T. DAVIES, Yusuf al-􀆴irbīnī’s Brains Confounded by the Ode of Abu 􀆴aduf Expounded (Kitab Hazz al-Quhuf bi-􀆴arh Qasīd Abī 􀆴aduf). Volume II: English translation, introduction and notes. 167. S. ARGUILLÈRE, Profusion de la vaste sphère. Klong-chen rab-’byams (Tibet, 1308-1364). Sa vie, son œuvre, sa doctrine. 168. D. DE SMET, Les Épîtres sacrées des Druzes. Rasa᾿il al-Hikma.Volumes 1 et 2. 169. U. VERMEULEN, K. D’HULSTER (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras V. 170. W.J. VAN BEKKUM, J.W. DRIJVERS, A.C. KLUGKIST (eds.), Syriac Polemics. Studies in Honour of Gerrit Jan Reinink. 171. K. D’HULSTER, J. VAN STEENBERGEN (eds.), Continuity and Change in the Realms of Islam. Studies in Honour of Professor Urbain Vermeulen. 172. B. MIDANT-REYNES, Y. TRISTANT, J. ROWLAND, S. HENDRICKX (eds.), Egypt at its Origins 2.

173. J.H.F. DIJKSTRA, Philae and the End of Ancient Egyptian Religion. A Regional Study of Religious Transformation (298-642 CE). 174. I. UYTTERHOEVEN, Hawara in the Graeco-Roman Period. Life and Death in a Fayum Village. 175. P. KOUSOULIS (ed.), Ancient Egyptian Demonology. Studies on the Boundaries between the Demonic and the Divine in Egyptian Magic. 176. A. KARAHAN, Byzantine Holy Images – Transcendence and Immanence. The Theological Background of the Iconography and Aesthetics of the Chora Church. 177. J. NAWAS (ed.), ‘Abbasid Studies II. Occasional Papers of the School of ‘Abbasid Studies, Leuven, 28 June - 1 July 2004. 178. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara. Le temple d’Isis. Volume I: Traduction. 179. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara. Le temple d’Isis. Volume II: Analyse à la lumière du temple d’Hathor. 180. M. ZITMAN, The Necropolis of Assiut. 181. E. LIPIŃSKI, Resheph. A Syro-Canaanite Deity. 182. C. KARLSHAUSEN, L’iconographie de la barque processionnelle en Égypte au Nouvel Empire. 183. U. VERMEULEN, K. D’HULSTER (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras VI. 184. M. IMMERZEEL, Identity Puzzles. Medieval Christian Art in Syria and Lebanon. 185. D. MAGEE, J. BOURRIAU, S. QUIRKE (eds.), Sitting Beside Lepsius. Studies in Honour of Jaromir Malek at the Griffith Institute. 186. A. STEVENSON, The Predynastic Egyptian Cemetery of el-Gerzeh. 187. D. BUMAZHNOV, E. GRYPEOU, T.B. SAILORS, A. TOEPEL (eds.), Bibel, Byzanz und Christlicher Orient. Festschrift für Stephen Gerö zum 65. Geburtstag. 188. J. ELAYI, A.G. ELAYI, The Coinage of the Phoenician City of Tyre in the Persian Period (5th-4th Century BCE). 189. F. HAGEN, J. JOHNSTON, W. MONKHOUSE, K. PIQUETTE, J. TAIT, M. WORTHINGTON (eds.), Narratives of Egypt and the Ancient Near East. Literary and Linguistic Approaches. 190. V. VAN DER STEDE, Les pratiques de stockage au Proche-Orient ancien du Natoufien à la première moitié du troisième millénaire avant notre ère. 191. W. CLAES, H. DE MEULENAERE, S. HENDRICKX (eds.), Elkab and Beyond. Studies in Honour of Luc Limme. 192. M. MARÉE (ed.), The Second Intermediate Period (Thirteenth-Seventeenth Dynasties). Current Research, Future Prospects. 193. I. JACOBS, Aesthetic Maintenance of Civic Space. The ‘Classical’ City from the 4th to the 7th c. AD. 194. H. KNUF, C. LEITZ, D. VON RECKLINGHAUSEN (eds.), Honi soit qui mal y pense. Studien zum pharaonischen, griechisch-römischen und spätantiken Ägypten zu Ehren von Heinz-Josef Thissen. 195. I. REGULSKI, A Palaeographic Study of Early Writing in Egypt. 196. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara XIII. Traduction. Le pronaos du temple d’Hathor: Façade et colonnes. 197. M. KUHN, Koptische liturgische Melodien. Die Relation zwischen Text und Musik in der koptischen Psalmodia. 198. B. SNELDERS, Identity and Christian-Muslim Interaction. Medieval Art of the Syrian Orthodox from the Mosul Area. 199. K. CIGGAAR, V. VAN AALST (eds.), East and West in the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean II. 200. E. LIPIŃSKI, Studies in Aramaic Inscriptions and Onomastics III. 201. S. CAUVILLE, Dendara XIV. Traduction. Le pronaos du temple d’Hathor: Parois intérieures. 202. K. DUISTERMAAT, I. REGULSKI (eds.), Intercultural Contacts in the Ancient Mediterranean. 203. F.S. JONES, Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana. Collected Studies.

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