It was in Syria that the Assassins perfected and professionalised their famous squads of elite killers – the fidais.
The Assassins were enemies to be feared and the best of their operatives were dedicated and highly skilled – the list of their victims reads like a Who’s Who of the medieval Middle East. They were described as fanatical and brainwashed by their enemies, or dedicated and skilful by their admirers – and, depending on your perspective, both simplistic characterisations were at least partially true. The Nizari fidais, or hand-picked elite, were extraordinarily focused and effective. They were the Ninjas of the twelfth century and the special forces of their own tiny but dangerous cult.
Then as now, there were many lurid descriptions of the Assassins as drugged-up, deluded fanatics, twisted men who were eager to die for a twisted cause. But this was all part of the illusion, an essential element in the ‘unstoppable death promise’ that lay at the heart of the Assassin brand.
Semper Fidais – The Assassin Elite
They were at the forefront of the Nizari Ismailis’ high-profile assassinations in Syria and it was they who have burnt a trail through legend and history – if you played Assassin’s Creed, you are probably, more strictly speaking, looking at an artist’s impression of a Nizari fidai. Inevitably, like all truly elite groups, they were only ever available in very small numbers. But, given the focused nature of Nizari ‘foreign policy’, this was usually enough.
They were trained to carry out dangerous missions on behalf of their leaders, often with only a slim chance of survival. Most of their attacks were on high-profile individuals, and took place in very public spaces. Every member of a fidais team had to be courageous and committed to the cause.
Dangerous or not, death was at the heart of what the Assassins had to offer. In a rare display of humour, Sinan, the Old Man of the Mountains in the 1170s, responded to a threat from one of his many Sunni enemies, a general commanding vast armies, with the retort: ‘Do you threaten a duck with the river?’
In this joke he encapsulated the core of the Assassins’ power and the menace of their fidais volunteers. Their enemies were afraid of death and they could not stop the Assassins from bringing it to them when they least expected it. That was the Nizaris’ power. But the Nizaris themselves were impervious to reciprocal threats. Their devotees were men who placed the needs of the sect above their own lives, and those of their families. If death was a river, the fidais were all too happy to swim in it.
Whether or not the fidais formed an official corps of ‘elite operatives’ is not entirely clear. It is likely that arrangements were more informal in the early years, becoming more structured as time progressed. Some operated as medium-term ‘sleepers’ in the households of their enemies, learning their religions and cultural mores as they insinuated themselves into places of trust and influence. Even here, however, it is not certain that they had specialist training for their roles, such as foreign languages or weapons skills, though common sense would suggest that these would be obvious areas to receive attention in the run-up to their mission.
The first attacks, such as that on the muezzin of Isfahan, do not seem to have been the result of a planned fidais hit, and what later became an elite core of killers probably did not formally exist at this stage in the sect’s history. Perhaps in the early days, all committed followers might be called upon to carry out such dangerous tasks. Only later did death become a specialised art.
Regardless of any moral judgments we might make, the fidais were not mindless fanatics. There was certainly a high level of personal motivation and, given the extreme dangers involved, this is not surprising – they believed that the act of murder on behalf of their sect was a pious, cleansing and holy act. But there is little evidence that they were promised an afterlife with ethereal virgins or any other pseudo-spiritual inducements. These accusations were probably later insults, invented by their many enemies and aimed at discrediting the nature of their commitment to the cause.
Similarly, wild rumours circulated about the nature of the training the fidais undertook, most of which are likely to be untrue. It is unlikely, for instance, that fidais were given drugs (such as the almost eponymous ‘hashish’) to numb their senses before they carried out a hit. In fact, on the contrary, their missions were so difficult and so elaborate that being under the influence of narcotics would have created far more problems than it solved. A skilled Assassin needed to have his wits about him.
Separating Myth from Reality
The truth was more prosaic. The fidais were an elite force and existed only in very small numbers. They did not want to die unless it was absolutely necessary. Far from being drugged and anaesthetised, they needed to be sharp and aware when they went on their missions. And when an attack was underway, participants were prepared for death, rather than eager for it. Even the most passionate members of the sect looked for exit routes as they made their elaborate plans for murder.
But, regardless of whether they died or not, death was a possibility that they accepted. Assassin squads were prepared to give up their lives in the pursuit of their prey – and it was this relentless focus which made them such formidable foes.
Assassin’s Creed Cosplay- photo by COM2021 A-2019 GR / Wikimedia Commons
Survival rates amongst the fidais when on active service were inevitably low. This was reflected in the honour which they were accorded within their communities. In much the same way as European villages contain poignant monuments recording the names of the glorious fallen, so too did Assassin castles – we know that they kept rolls of honour commemorating individual members of fidais teams and the missions that they had been sent on, and their memory was preserved in the chronicles of Alamut. They too shall not grow old.
Not all Nizari fighters were fidais, however. Despite a strong preference for working in the shadows, the sect also required larger bodies of men. Castle networks needed garrisons. Supplies and envoys needed escorts. And they occasionally needed to conduct larger military operations.
The acts of individual Assassins were sufficient for intimidation and inculcating a climate of fear. But that was never going to be enough to establish the sect in prime defensive locations, and particularly the Syrian mountaintop castles to which they most aspired. To capture these, much larger groups of fighters were sometimes required – and in gathering these additional groups of men together, there were unavoidable compromises in terms of quality.
In these circumstances they would call on other Nizari followers to fight – the militia would be summoned to temporarily boost their military capabilities, albeit at the cost of dramatically lowering the overall calibre of their fighting men. But the Assassins were always small in number. Their efforts to take part in more conventional fighting were inevitably far less impressive than the lightning strikes of their murder squads.
In 1100, for instance, a small army of Assassins (‘three hundred of their leaders and champions’) set out to attack a Turkic emir, Jawuli of Mosul. The attack went catastrophically wrong, however. A bloodbath ensued when battle was joined and ‘only three individuals escaped. They climbed a hill and fled. Jawuli took their horses, weapons and such like as booty’.
Interestingly, and in an ironic reversal of the usual tactics, this early defeat seems to have resulted from the presence of traitors in the midst of the Assassin army – we are told that the followers of Jawuli ‘sought out the [Nizaris], pretending to be with them and of their views. They remained with them until they were trusted’. Then, when the fighting started, and the Nizaris were fully committed, ‘Jawuli’s men in their ranks turned against them and put them to the sword.’
Extending the reach of the fidais by getting them to take militia volunteers under their wing, and to undertake more conventional military actions, was risky. It might work in Persia, where the population was largely on their side and the war against the Turks had the characteristics of a popular uprising – but it was far more difficult to do in Syria.
It was the fidais, small in number but high in impact, who were the stars of the sect – and it is they who remain the iconic figures at the heart of the Assassin legends.
Steve Tibble, an honorary research associate at Royal Holloway, University of London, has a new book out – Assassins and Templars: A Battle in Myth and Blood – from Yale University Press. It tells the true history behind the hugely popular video game Assassin’s Creed and the medieval world’s two most extraordinary organisations, tracing their origins, strategies, violent clashes, and enduring legacy in myth and memory.
You can get your copy of Assassins and Templars: A Battle in Myth and Blood through
By Steve Tibble
It was in Syria that the Assassins perfected and professionalised their famous squads of elite killers – the fidais.
The Assassins were enemies to be feared and the best of their operatives were dedicated and highly skilled – the list of their victims reads like a Who’s Who of the medieval Middle East. They were described as fanatical and brainwashed by their enemies, or dedicated and skilful by their admirers – and, depending on your perspective, both simplistic characterisations were at least partially true. The Nizari fidais, or hand-picked elite, were extraordinarily focused and effective. They were the Ninjas of the twelfth century and the special forces of their own tiny but dangerous cult.
Then as now, there were many lurid descriptions of the Assassins as drugged-up, deluded fanatics, twisted men who were eager to die for a twisted cause. But this was all part of the illusion, an essential element in the ‘unstoppable death promise’ that lay at the heart of the Assassin brand.
Semper Fidais – The Assassin Elite
They were at the forefront of the Nizari Ismailis’ high-profile assassinations in Syria and it was they who have burnt a trail through legend and history – if you played Assassin’s Creed, you are probably, more strictly speaking, looking at an artist’s impression of a Nizari fidai. Inevitably, like all truly elite groups, they were only ever available in very small numbers. But, given the focused nature of Nizari ‘foreign policy’, this was usually enough.
They were trained to carry out dangerous missions on behalf of their leaders, often with only a slim chance of survival. Most of their attacks were on high-profile individuals, and took place in very public spaces. Every member of a fidais team had to be courageous and committed to the cause.
Dangerous or not, death was at the heart of what the Assassins had to offer. In a rare display of humour, Sinan, the Old Man of the Mountains in the 1170s, responded to a threat from one of his many Sunni enemies, a general commanding vast armies, with the retort: ‘Do you threaten a duck with the river?’
In this joke he encapsulated the core of the Assassins’ power and the menace of their fidais volunteers. Their enemies were afraid of death and they could not stop the Assassins from bringing it to them when they least expected it. That was the Nizaris’ power. But the Nizaris themselves were impervious to reciprocal threats. Their devotees were men who placed the needs of the sect above their own lives, and those of their families. If death was a river, the fidais were all too happy to swim in it.
Whether or not the fidais formed an official corps of ‘elite operatives’ is not entirely clear. It is likely that arrangements were more informal in the early years, becoming more structured as time progressed. Some operated as medium-term ‘sleepers’ in the households of their enemies, learning their religions and cultural mores as they insinuated themselves into places of trust and influence. Even here, however, it is not certain that they had specialist training for their roles, such as foreign languages or weapons skills, though common sense would suggest that these would be obvious areas to receive attention in the run-up to their mission.
The first attacks, such as that on the muezzin of Isfahan, do not seem to have been the result of a planned fidais hit, and what later became an elite core of killers probably did not formally exist at this stage in the sect’s history. Perhaps in the early days, all committed followers might be called upon to carry out such dangerous tasks. Only later did death become a specialised art.
Regardless of any moral judgments we might make, the fidais were not mindless fanatics. There was certainly a high level of personal motivation and, given the extreme dangers involved, this is not surprising – they believed that the act of murder on behalf of their sect was a pious, cleansing and holy act. But there is little evidence that they were promised an afterlife with ethereal virgins or any other pseudo-spiritual inducements. These accusations were probably later insults, invented by their many enemies and aimed at discrediting the nature of their commitment to the cause.
Similarly, wild rumours circulated about the nature of the training the fidais undertook, most of which are likely to be untrue. It is unlikely, for instance, that fidais were given drugs (such as the almost eponymous ‘hashish’) to numb their senses before they carried out a hit. In fact, on the contrary, their missions were so difficult and so elaborate that being under the influence of narcotics would have created far more problems than it solved. A skilled Assassin needed to have his wits about him.
Separating Myth from Reality
The truth was more prosaic. The fidais were an elite force and existed only in very small numbers. They did not want to die unless it was absolutely necessary. Far from being drugged and anaesthetised, they needed to be sharp and aware when they went on their missions. And when an attack was underway, participants were prepared for death, rather than eager for it. Even the most passionate members of the sect looked for exit routes as they made their elaborate plans for murder.
But, regardless of whether they died or not, death was a possibility that they accepted. Assassin squads were prepared to give up their lives in the pursuit of their prey – and it was this relentless focus which made them such formidable foes.
Survival rates amongst the fidais when on active service were inevitably low. This was reflected in the honour which they were accorded within their communities. In much the same way as European villages contain poignant monuments recording the names of the glorious fallen, so too did Assassin castles – we know that they kept rolls of honour commemorating individual members of fidais teams and the missions that they had been sent on, and their memory was preserved in the chronicles of Alamut. They too shall not grow old.
Not all Nizari fighters were fidais, however. Despite a strong preference for working in the shadows, the sect also required larger bodies of men. Castle networks needed garrisons. Supplies and envoys needed escorts. And they occasionally needed to conduct larger military operations.
The acts of individual Assassins were sufficient for intimidation and inculcating a climate of fear. But that was never going to be enough to establish the sect in prime defensive locations, and particularly the Syrian mountaintop castles to which they most aspired. To capture these, much larger groups of fighters were sometimes required – and in gathering these additional groups of men together, there were unavoidable compromises in terms of quality.
In these circumstances they would call on other Nizari followers to fight – the militia would be summoned to temporarily boost their military capabilities, albeit at the cost of dramatically lowering the overall calibre of their fighting men. But the Assassins were always small in number. Their efforts to take part in more conventional fighting were inevitably far less impressive than the lightning strikes of their murder squads.
In 1100, for instance, a small army of Assassins (‘three hundred of their leaders and champions’) set out to attack a Turkic emir, Jawuli of Mosul. The attack went catastrophically wrong, however. A bloodbath ensued when battle was joined and ‘only three individuals escaped. They climbed a hill and fled. Jawuli took their horses, weapons and such like as booty’.
Interestingly, and in an ironic reversal of the usual tactics, this early defeat seems to have resulted from the presence of traitors in the midst of the Assassin army – we are told that the followers of Jawuli ‘sought out the [Nizaris], pretending to be with them and of their views. They remained with them until they were trusted’. Then, when the fighting started, and the Nizaris were fully committed, ‘Jawuli’s men in their ranks turned against them and put them to the sword.’
Extending the reach of the fidais by getting them to take militia volunteers under their wing, and to undertake more conventional military actions, was risky. It might work in Persia, where the population was largely on their side and the war against the Turks had the characteristics of a popular uprising – but it was far more difficult to do in Syria.
It was the fidais, small in number but high in impact, who were the stars of the sect – and it is they who remain the iconic figures at the heart of the Assassin legends.
You can get your copy of Assassins and Templars: A Battle in Myth and Blood through
Yale University Press website
Amazon.com
Amazon.ca
Amazon.co.uk
To learn more about Steve, please visit his website or follow him on Instagram
Top Image: Drawing of two warriors found in Fustat, Egypt, eleventh century. Ink on paper. Museum of Islamic Art, Cairo.
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