In 1126, a team of Nizari Assassins struck at the heart of Mosul, killing the powerful Seljuk commander al-Bursuqi during Friday prayers. The attack sent shockwaves through the Islamic world, revealing both the reach and the ruthlessness of the medieval Assassins.
By Steve Tibble
Nizari Ismaili missionaries were famously charismatic and persuasive. But as the sect was so unpopular amongst the wider Muslim community, they often had to act in secrecy. The senior Assassin leader in Syria, Abu Tahir, the ‘goldsmith’, had been executed as part of wider pogroms in Aleppo in 1114. A senior Persian Nizari named Bahram was chosen to succeed him. In the immediate aftermath of the pogroms, Bahram went underground. He ‘lived in extreme concealment and secrecy, and continually disguised himself, so that he moved from city to city and castle to castle without anyone being aware of his identity’. Eventually, however, he felt confident enough to turn his attention south towards Damascus.
Like many Nizari missionaries, Bahram was certainly not lacking in energy or focus. Ibn al-Qalanisi, the author of the Damascus chronicle, wrote that he ‘grew so formidable that he became a factor to be reckoned with in Aleppo and Syria…he appeared in Damascus…with a letter containing strong recommendations on his behalf.’ It is interesting to see that even at their weakest the Assassins were feared – Bahram, we are told, ‘was received with honour’, but only ‘as a measure of precaution against his malice and that of his organisation.’
He wasted no time in gathering new converts around him. He ‘moved about’, in the disapproving words of one Sunni commentator, ‘from place to place and gained a following among the ignorant and witless mob, and foolish peasantry, men lacking both intelligence and religion, who sought in him and his party a means of protecting themselves and injuring others.’ Even when seen through the lens of those who despised him, it is clear that Bahram was a man of powerful charisma.
The Assassination of al-Bursuqi 1126
The charm offensive worked – Bahram and his followers found favour with Tughtigin, the tough Turkic overlord of Damascus.
Perhaps not surprisingly, this favour was bought with more than just an engaging personality. The Assassins may (or may not) have already helped Tughtigin by killing his rival Mawdud in 1113. But, either way, Bahram continued to offer the support and blood of his followers – together, they made efforts to strengthen Tughtigin’s regime in the city and help see off his enemies.
Support came, for instance, from the Nizari militiamen who helped Tughtigin to fend off a crusader attack on Damascus. Ibn al-Qalanisi, despite his contempt for the Assassins, wrote that in January 1126, in the face of a Frankish threat, ‘there were assembled…a great host’ which included ‘the armed bands of the [Nizari], noted for courage and gallantry, from Hims and elsewhere.’ This support was greatly appreciated.
It also found expression in even more specific forms of bloodshed.
Ruler in Turkic dress (long braids, fur hat, boots, fitting coat), in the Maqamat of al-Hariri, 1237 CE, probably Baghdad – Wikimedia Commons
On 26 November 1126, extremely conveniently for Tughtigin, al-Bursuqi, the Seljuk-Turk lord of Mosul, was killed by a fidais team while attending prayers in the city’s Great Mosque.
Al-Bursuqi had been the replacement for Mawdud after he too had been killed by a fidais team in 1113. As the caliph of Baghdad’s generalissimo in charge of leading the jihad against the crusaders (and, they must have suspected, Nizari heretics), he had many enemies. As was so often the case, it is not entirely clear who ordered, or commissioned, the hit.
The Assassins themselves wanted him dead. They knew that the caliph of Baghdad, as the leader of Sunni orthodoxy, had been one of the main instigators of the shocking pogrom launched against them in Aleppo – being the sultan’s servant in Syria would have been more than enough to mark al-Bursuqi out for death. But the internal politics of the Seljuk empire were shockingly poisonous. He had many enemies of his own. Even at the time, no one could be entirely sure why the attack took place.
We may not know everything about the why, but we have a lot of evidence about the how. From a selfish point of view, we are fortunate that al-Bursuqi’s murder was so spectacular. It achieved a very high level of coverage in the local chronicles, Christian as well as Muslim. This has given us an unusual level of insight into several different aspects of what happened during a Nizari hit, and it is worth looking at these contemporary accounts in some detail.
Firstly, it is clear that the Assassins were determined to kill al-Bursuqi whatever the cost – their commitment was total, and they must have realised that the consequences would inevitably be similarly bloodthirsty.
The fidais were not to be squandered lightly. Although they did not seek suicide, their missions were intensely dangerous. Because their survival was not to be expected, hit squads typically consisted of around three men. That was usually enough to get the job done. The attack on al-Bursuqi was different, however. Up to ten fidais were deployed, of whom all but one were killed on the spot or tortured to death after the event.
Seljuk warrior figurine dating to the 12th century – The Walters Art Museum
The murder itself was savage and thorough. It had to be, if it were to have any chance of success – al-Bursuqi was heavily armoured and surrounded by professional bodyguards. Despite this, however, the fidais were able to separate him from his men for a few seconds, and it was perhaps the need to do so that dictated the unusually large size of their team. The chronicler Kamal al-Din wrote that as al-Bursuqi arrived ‘at the foot of the pulpit, eight men clad as dervishes attacked him, knives in hand … and [although he] was surrounded by a numerous bodyguard, the Assassins got ahead of his escort and riddled him with wounds, so that he died the same day.’
Armour was the other main problem. Al-Bursuqi’s chest and torso were heavily protected, and even his arms and legs, under his outer clothing, probably had some form of defensive covering. This still left two main areas of vulnerability, however, and it was on these that the fidais focused their attention. As al-Bursuqi was at a public event, his neck and face had to be on show. And because he was wearing trousers, a mail shirt could be expected to end just above the groin.
The Christian chronicler Michael the Syrian wrote that the initial dagger thrust did not harm al-Bursuqi since he was, very sensibly, wearing a breastplate or mail shirt. While the first Assassin was being hacked down, however, he cried out to his other companions to strike below his shirt, and they stabbed al-Bursuqi in the lower abdomen. The great man died humiliated, according to Michael, of wounds to the groin. Ibn al-Qalanisi, in his detailed account of the murder, wrote that other Assassins also shouted out ‘strike his head above’, presumably changing their target to his face and neck, and confirmed the kill.
The fidais had been correct in identifying the need to go in en masse. Quite apart from the wall of bodyguards who surrounded him, al-Bursuqi was a formidable opponent in his own right. He fought back against the Assassins and ‘with his own hand killed three of his attackers.’ He did not go down quietly.
As so often, hindsight sought a dramatic story to accompany a dramatic ending. The murder, it was later said, had been preceded by portents of death, covered in a suitably pious carapace of respectability. The evening before his death, some said, al-Bursuqi dreamt ‘that he was attacked by a troop of dogs of whom he killed three but was savaged by the others. Those of his household to whom he told this dream advised him to stay indoors and not to go out for some days, but he declared that he would not for anything miss Friday prayers.’
The fidais might be compared to a ‘troop of dogs’, but the job was meticulously planned. The hit squad had been in place for some time, waiting for the right opportunity to present itself. The shoemaker who had sheltered them eventually broke under torture and told the authorities that ‘they came to kill [al-Bursuqi] several years ago, but they had no opportunity until the present time.’
The northern crusaders, who had the closest relations with the Nizaris, may also have had advance warning of the hit through their intelligence networks. Ibn al-Athir mentions that ‘the lord of Antioch sent to [al-Bursuqi’s son] to tell him of the killing of his father before the news reached him [from elsewhere]. The Franks had heard it before him because of their intense interest in learning about Muslim affairs.’
The Price of the Kill
As usual, the aftermath of the affair was a bloodbath – the victim, the fidais, and scores of innocent civilians were all butchered. The consequences for the local Ismaili (and, more broadly, Shi’ite) community could also be profound. In the immediate aftermath of any attack, innocent bystanders who were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and particularly those who were unfortunate enough to ‘look Persian’, were habitually killed. In this instance, the blood flowed copiously. The chronicler Matthew of Edessa wrote that after the murder, ‘al-Bursuqi’s servants killed [the fidais] and others whom they found in the city dressed in the same manner – all in all eighty men.’
Even those who had been associated with the fidais were subjected to the most appalling tortures. According to Ibn al-Athir, ‘an enquiry about those [Assassins] and a full investigation into their background took place. It was said that they had been apprenticed to a cobbler in the Iliya Lane. He was summoned and promised generous treatment if he confessed, but he did not … His hands, his feet and his penis were cut off and he was stoned to death.’ For the Assassins, the collateral cost of the attack was appalling – but felt to be acceptable.
But there was one survivor of the raid – a young fidais who somehow managed to escape the carnage. A story was told, possibly apocryphal, probably defamatory, about how this Assassin was received by his loved ones when he returned home. ‘All those who attacked [al-Bursuqi],’ wrote the chronicler Kamal al-Din, ‘were killed except for one youth, who came from Kafr Nasih, in the district of ‘Azaz [a town to the north of Aleppo] and escaped unhurt. He had an aged mother, and when she heard that Bursuqi was killed and that those who attacked him were killed, knowing that her son was one of them, she rejoiced, and anointed her eyelids with kohl, and was full of joy; then after a few days her son returned unharmed, and she was grieved, and tore her hair and blackened her face.’
This is certainly unfair. The fidais were not suicidal. They were expected to escape if they could. But there may be a grim germ of truth to Ibn al-Athir’s hostile views. Having a reputation for an unswerving dedication to the death of their enemies was the Assassins’ main strength. It was the source of the fear upon which their political leverage was founded – the sect had every reason to encourage such extreme legends, whether they were literally true or (more likely) false.
Above all, they needed to be feared.
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
In 1126, a team of Nizari Assassins struck at the heart of Mosul, killing the powerful Seljuk commander al-Bursuqi during Friday prayers. The attack sent shockwaves through the Islamic world, revealing both the reach and the ruthlessness of the medieval Assassins.
By Steve Tibble
Nizari Ismaili missionaries were famously charismatic and persuasive. But as the sect was so unpopular amongst the wider Muslim community, they often had to act in secrecy. The senior Assassin leader in Syria, Abu Tahir, the ‘goldsmith’, had been executed as part of wider pogroms in Aleppo in 1114. A senior Persian Nizari named Bahram was chosen to succeed him. In the immediate aftermath of the pogroms, Bahram went underground. He ‘lived in extreme concealment and secrecy, and continually disguised himself, so that he moved from city to city and castle to castle without anyone being aware of his identity’. Eventually, however, he felt confident enough to turn his attention south towards Damascus.
Like many Nizari missionaries, Bahram was certainly not lacking in energy or focus. Ibn al-Qalanisi, the author of the Damascus chronicle, wrote that he ‘grew so formidable that he became a factor to be reckoned with in Aleppo and Syria…he appeared in Damascus…with a letter containing strong recommendations on his behalf.’ It is interesting to see that even at their weakest the Assassins were feared – Bahram, we are told, ‘was received with honour’, but only ‘as a measure of precaution against his malice and that of his organisation.’
He wasted no time in gathering new converts around him. He ‘moved about’, in the disapproving words of one Sunni commentator, ‘from place to place and gained a following among the ignorant and witless mob, and foolish peasantry, men lacking both intelligence and religion, who sought in him and his party a means of protecting themselves and injuring others.’ Even when seen through the lens of those who despised him, it is clear that Bahram was a man of powerful charisma.
The Assassination of al-Bursuqi 1126
The charm offensive worked – Bahram and his followers found favour with Tughtigin, the tough Turkic overlord of Damascus.
Perhaps not surprisingly, this favour was bought with more than just an engaging personality. The Assassins may (or may not) have already helped Tughtigin by killing his rival Mawdud in 1113. But, either way, Bahram continued to offer the support and blood of his followers – together, they made efforts to strengthen Tughtigin’s regime in the city and help see off his enemies.
Support came, for instance, from the Nizari militiamen who helped Tughtigin to fend off a crusader attack on Damascus. Ibn al-Qalanisi, despite his contempt for the Assassins, wrote that in January 1126, in the face of a Frankish threat, ‘there were assembled…a great host’ which included ‘the armed bands of the [Nizari], noted for courage and gallantry, from Hims and elsewhere.’ This support was greatly appreciated.
It also found expression in even more specific forms of bloodshed.
On 26 November 1126, extremely conveniently for Tughtigin, al-Bursuqi, the Seljuk-Turk lord of Mosul, was killed by a fidais team while attending prayers in the city’s Great Mosque.
Al-Bursuqi had been the replacement for Mawdud after he too had been killed by a fidais team in 1113. As the caliph of Baghdad’s generalissimo in charge of leading the jihad against the crusaders (and, they must have suspected, Nizari heretics), he had many enemies. As was so often the case, it is not entirely clear who ordered, or commissioned, the hit.
The Assassins themselves wanted him dead. They knew that the caliph of Baghdad, as the leader of Sunni orthodoxy, had been one of the main instigators of the shocking pogrom launched against them in Aleppo – being the sultan’s servant in Syria would have been more than enough to mark al-Bursuqi out for death. But the internal politics of the Seljuk empire were shockingly poisonous. He had many enemies of his own. Even at the time, no one could be entirely sure why the attack took place.
We may not know everything about the why, but we have a lot of evidence about the how. From a selfish point of view, we are fortunate that al-Bursuqi’s murder was so spectacular. It achieved a very high level of coverage in the local chronicles, Christian as well as Muslim. This has given us an unusual level of insight into several different aspects of what happened during a Nizari hit, and it is worth looking at these contemporary accounts in some detail.
Firstly, it is clear that the Assassins were determined to kill al-Bursuqi whatever the cost – their commitment was total, and they must have realised that the consequences would inevitably be similarly bloodthirsty.
The fidais were not to be squandered lightly. Although they did not seek suicide, their missions were intensely dangerous. Because their survival was not to be expected, hit squads typically consisted of around three men. That was usually enough to get the job done. The attack on al-Bursuqi was different, however. Up to ten fidais were deployed, of whom all but one were killed on the spot or tortured to death after the event.
The murder itself was savage and thorough. It had to be, if it were to have any chance of success – al-Bursuqi was heavily armoured and surrounded by professional bodyguards. Despite this, however, the fidais were able to separate him from his men for a few seconds, and it was perhaps the need to do so that dictated the unusually large size of their team. The chronicler Kamal al-Din wrote that as al-Bursuqi arrived ‘at the foot of the pulpit, eight men clad as dervishes attacked him, knives in hand … and [although he] was surrounded by a numerous bodyguard, the Assassins got ahead of his escort and riddled him with wounds, so that he died the same day.’
Armour was the other main problem. Al-Bursuqi’s chest and torso were heavily protected, and even his arms and legs, under his outer clothing, probably had some form of defensive covering. This still left two main areas of vulnerability, however, and it was on these that the fidais focused their attention. As al-Bursuqi was at a public event, his neck and face had to be on show. And because he was wearing trousers, a mail shirt could be expected to end just above the groin.
The Christian chronicler Michael the Syrian wrote that the initial dagger thrust did not harm al-Bursuqi since he was, very sensibly, wearing a breastplate or mail shirt. While the first Assassin was being hacked down, however, he cried out to his other companions to strike below his shirt, and they stabbed al-Bursuqi in the lower abdomen. The great man died humiliated, according to Michael, of wounds to the groin. Ibn al-Qalanisi, in his detailed account of the murder, wrote that other Assassins also shouted out ‘strike his head above’, presumably changing their target to his face and neck, and confirmed the kill.
The fidais had been correct in identifying the need to go in en masse. Quite apart from the wall of bodyguards who surrounded him, al-Bursuqi was a formidable opponent in his own right. He fought back against the Assassins and ‘with his own hand killed three of his attackers.’ He did not go down quietly.
As so often, hindsight sought a dramatic story to accompany a dramatic ending. The murder, it was later said, had been preceded by portents of death, covered in a suitably pious carapace of respectability. The evening before his death, some said, al-Bursuqi dreamt ‘that he was attacked by a troop of dogs of whom he killed three but was savaged by the others. Those of his household to whom he told this dream advised him to stay indoors and not to go out for some days, but he declared that he would not for anything miss Friday prayers.’
The fidais might be compared to a ‘troop of dogs’, but the job was meticulously planned. The hit squad had been in place for some time, waiting for the right opportunity to present itself. The shoemaker who had sheltered them eventually broke under torture and told the authorities that ‘they came to kill [al-Bursuqi] several years ago, but they had no opportunity until the present time.’
The northern crusaders, who had the closest relations with the Nizaris, may also have had advance warning of the hit through their intelligence networks. Ibn al-Athir mentions that ‘the lord of Antioch sent to [al-Bursuqi’s son] to tell him of the killing of his father before the news reached him [from elsewhere]. The Franks had heard it before him because of their intense interest in learning about Muslim affairs.’
The Price of the Kill
As usual, the aftermath of the affair was a bloodbath – the victim, the fidais, and scores of innocent civilians were all butchered. The consequences for the local Ismaili (and, more broadly, Shi’ite) community could also be profound. In the immediate aftermath of any attack, innocent bystanders who were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and particularly those who were unfortunate enough to ‘look Persian’, were habitually killed. In this instance, the blood flowed copiously. The chronicler Matthew of Edessa wrote that after the murder, ‘al-Bursuqi’s servants killed [the fidais] and others whom they found in the city dressed in the same manner – all in all eighty men.’
Even those who had been associated with the fidais were subjected to the most appalling tortures. According to Ibn al-Athir, ‘an enquiry about those [Assassins] and a full investigation into their background took place. It was said that they had been apprenticed to a cobbler in the Iliya Lane. He was summoned and promised generous treatment if he confessed, but he did not … His hands, his feet and his penis were cut off and he was stoned to death.’ For the Assassins, the collateral cost of the attack was appalling – but felt to be acceptable.
But there was one survivor of the raid – a young fidais who somehow managed to escape the carnage. A story was told, possibly apocryphal, probably defamatory, about how this Assassin was received by his loved ones when he returned home. ‘All those who attacked [al-Bursuqi],’ wrote the chronicler Kamal al-Din, ‘were killed except for one youth, who came from Kafr Nasih, in the district of ‘Azaz [a town to the north of Aleppo] and escaped unhurt. He had an aged mother, and when she heard that Bursuqi was killed and that those who attacked him were killed, knowing that her son was one of them, she rejoiced, and anointed her eyelids with kohl, and was full of joy; then after a few days her son returned unharmed, and she was grieved, and tore her hair and blackened her face.’
This is certainly unfair. The fidais were not suicidal. They were expected to escape if they could. But there may be a grim germ of truth to Ibn al-Athir’s hostile views. Having a reputation for an unswerving dedication to the death of their enemies was the Assassins’ main strength. It was the source of the fear upon which their political leverage was founded – the sect had every reason to encourage such extreme legends, whether they were literally true or (more likely) false.
Above all, they needed to be feared.
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
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Top Image: A 17th-century depiction of Mosul by Jacob Peeters – Wikimedia Commons
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