The Great Arab Conquests (46 page)

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Authors: Hugh Kennedy

BOOK: The Great Arab Conquests
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By 696 there was a new governor, Umayya, appointed by Abd al-Malik. He was a member of the ruling Umayyad family, easygoing, generous, peace-loving and, his enemies alleged, pompous and effeminate. He was to have a hard struggle keeping the unruly Arabs of Khurasan in order. The most effective way of doing this was to lead them in campaign across the river, to fill their minds with thoughts of Holy War and booty rather than tribal feuding and vengeance. Preparations were made for a major campaign against Bukhara. Umayya spent a vast amount of money on horses and weapons, money that he is said to have borrowed from Soghdian merchants.
25
The process reveals how complex relations were between the Arabs and the local people. Bukhara was situated in Soghdia, yet at least some Soghdian merchants were prepared to lend money to the Arabs who were trying to conquer their Soghdian homeland! For many Arabs too, the expedition was a speculative venture: we know of one man who borrowed money to equip himself to join the expedition but, when he decided not to go, was put in prison by his creditors and had to be bailed out by a rich friend.
26
Many of the Arabs in fact seem to have found themselves in financial difficulties, and they complained that the local landowners were left in charge of the tax-collecting, giving the conquered a certain authority over the conquerors.
27
For impoverished and discontented Arabs, a raid across the river with the prospect of serious booty was a very attractive proposition.
 
In the event, Umayya does not seem to have commanded the respect and confidence of his troops and the expedition was a fiasco. After he and his men had crossed the bridge of boats over the Oxus at Amul, his second-in-command refused to follow him any further, crossing back over the river with some of his men, burning the boats and heading back to take over Merv and establish himself as governor. Appeals to Muslim solidarity failed to move him and he shrugged off concerns about the fate of the Muslim forces under Umayya’s command, now cut off beyond the river, saying that they had numbers, weapons and courage and that they could go as far as China if they wished.
28
Umayya’s forces were surrounded and in desperate straits and he was obliged to make peace with the Bukharans ‘for a small payment’
29
and return to take control. Power politics and rivalries among the Arabs had clearly become more important than Holy War and the spread of Islam. And events showed clearly that the north-east frontier was no place for easygoing and peace-loving leaders: Umayya was soon withdrawn from the province.
 
Khurasan, and with it the command of the north-east frontier, was now given to the caliph’s right-hand man, the ruthless and effective Hajjāj b. Yūsuf, governor of Iraq and all the east and one of the architects of the early Islamic state. He in turn appointed a man called Muhallab to take command in Khurasan. Muhallab was a figure of almost legendary prowess on the battlefield and a man with a great reputation as a commander. His tribe of Azd, one of the most important and numerous in the east, revered him and his family as their greatest leaders and took care to keep his memory alive in myth and song. He had made his reputation fighting an Arab guerrilla insurgency in southern Iran, hard, unrewarding campaigning in difficult country. He was also credited with the introduction of metal stirrups into the Muslim armies.
 
Muhallab brought with him his son Yazīd. It was of course expected that the new governor would launch an expedition to Transoxania to provide an opportunity for plunder: neither the Azdi tribesmen he had brought with him from Iraq nor the longer-established Arabs in the province would expect anything less. He chose Kish as his objective. Kish, known since the fifteenth century as Shāhri Sabz, ‘the Green City’, was later famous as the birthplace of Tamerlane, the great conqueror. It lies in a fertile plain at the foot of the mountains that rise to the north and east. It was not one of the most important cities of Transoxania, but it was still a significant prize. Muhallab seems to have acted very cautiously. For two years he blockaded the city, refusing advice to bypass it and push further into Soghdia. In the end, he withdrew in exchange for a payment of tribute.
30
The cities of Soghdia were not going to be taken over easily.
 
The confusion and lack of direction left open opportunities to the more adventurous and unscrupulous and none was more adventurous or more unscrupulous than Mūsā, son of the old governor Abd Allāh b. Khāzim. He carved out a position for himself on the frontiers of the Muslim world, in the borderlands between the two worlds of the Arab conquerors and the old princes of the area. In some ways he resembles El Cid in eleventh-century Spain, operating on the margins, happy to make alliances with anyone who could help him, greedy for money and generous to his followers. Like El Cid as well, Mūsā inspired a biography, or rather a record of heroic deeds, and so his reputation has come down to us.
 
The saga of Mūsā b. Abd Allāh b. Khāzim was edited in the form we have it now by the great Madā’inī more than a century after the events. He obviously used earlier sources but he does not give the names of his authorities.
31
The story clearly has a basis in fact but there are many elements which seem to be fanciful, even mythical, but even these give us an insight into the frontier mentalities of the time and place. Unlike many early Arabic historical texts, the story is a linear narrative, uninterrupted by
isnād
s or alternative versions. It tells the tale of the adventures of Mūsā, his rule of the city of Tirmidh, his relations with Arabs and non-Arabs alike and his eventual downfall. Mūsā’s faults, especially the way in which he bowed to pressure from his Arab followers against his own better judgement, are not glossed over, but he clearly emerges as the roguish hero of the whole narrative. The saga makes it clear that Mūsā was supported by Arabs and non-Arabs, Muslims and non-Muslims alike and, at the same time, that many of his fiercest opponents were Arabs. The politics of his meteoric career are explained in terms of ethnic identities (Arabs, non-Arabs, Turks) and tribal rivalries. Religion is never mentioned. This was no
jihād
and Mūsā never claimed it as such. He may have built a mosque in Tirmidh and he may have worshipped in it, but, if so, it is never mentioned in the sources. In contrast to many narratives of the early conquests, enthusiasm for Islam and the rewards of the afterlife never figure. The values extolled are those of bravery in battle, of loyalty to kin and companions, of endurance and of cunning. This frontier world was a complex environment where alliances and allegiances shifted rapidly, where Muslims and non-Muslims made alliances against other Muslims and non-Muslims and where the
jihād
took second place to personal ambition and the desire for wealth and power.
 
Mūsā had taken over the fortress town of Tirmidh during his father’s lifetime. Tirmidh, where the swift-flowing Oxus swirls around the low cliffs and tawny mud-brick walls of the fortress, lay opposite an island in the river which made it an easy crossing place. Along with the impressive rectangular citadel
32
there was a walled town (
rabad
) outside. The Greeks had called it Alexandria on the Oxus and later under the Kushans a number of Buddhist stupas had been constructed around it. The site of the old town has been deserted since the Mongol invasions of the 1220s.
 
It was probably the strength of the citadel and the strategic position at the Oxus crossing which attracted Mūsā to the site. Here he established himself and defied all comers. He is portrayed as a flamboyant, larger-than-life figure who went into battle with a red silk bandana around his helmet, topped by a blue sapphire.
33
 
He had originally come to Tirmidh almost by accident. When his father’s fortunes were on the wane and he was losing support among the Arabs of Merv, his father had told Mūsā to take all his baggage and find a safe place for them. He was to cross the Oxus and take refuge with one of the local princes or find a suitable fortress and occupy it. He set off with 200 horsemen, but as he went on his party grew. By the time he reached the river crossing at Āmul he had been joined by a group of bandits (
sa‘ālīk
: it is not clear whether these were Arabs or Iranians) and some men of his own tribe. The band was now over four hundred. He now needed a base where he could settle with his men.
 
The first place he tried was Bukhara, but the prince of the city was, rightly, very suspicious of him and his intentions. ‘He is a murderer,’ he said, ‘and his companions are like him, people given to war and evil; I do not feel safe with him around.’ So he gave him some money, riding animals and a robe and sent him on his way. Next Mūsā tried the lord (
dehqān
) of a small town near Bukhara. Again he got a frosty reception, the lord saying that the local people were frightened of him and would not accept him. Nevertheless, he stayed for a few months before setting off once more to find a suitable prince or fortress.
 
He had more luck in Samarqand, where the local king, Tarkhūn, honoured him and allowed him to stay, presumably hoping to use his military abilities against his enemies. It was too good to last long. The story goes that in Soghdia there was a local custom according to which, on one particular day of the year, a table was set with a meat dish, bread and a jug of something to drink. This was the food of the ‘Knight of Soghdia’, and he was the only person who was allowed to eat it. If anyone else dared to take any of the food, he would have to fight the knight, and the table, and thereby the title, would belong to whichever of them killed the other. Needless to say, this was an invitation these tough and reckless Arabs could not resist, and one of Mūsā’s companions came and sat at the table, saying that he would fight the knight and himself become the new ‘Knight of Soghdia’. When the knight came he challenged him, ‘O Arab, fight a duel with me.’ The Arab readily agreed and slew the knight. At this point, however, the rules changed; it seems there could not be an Arab Knight of Soghdia. The king was furious and told Mūsā and his men to get out, adding that if he had not previously granted them safe conduct, he would have had them all killed.
34
 
Mūsā and his men were now complete outlaws and every man’s hand was against them. They crossed the mountains south to Kish. Here the local king took up arms against them and appealed to Tarkhūn of Samarqand for help. Mūsā and his 700 companions fought the kings for a whole day and many of his men were wounded. In the evening they began negotiations. One of Mūsā’s followers argued with Tarkhūn that killing Mūsā would be of no advantage to him; he would inevitably lose many of his own best men in the fighting and, besides, Mūsā was a man of high standing among the Arabs (a debatable point by this stage) and that if he killed him, the Arabs would certainly try to avenge him. For his part Tarkhūn said he was not prepared to allow Mūsā to remain in Kish, which was too close for comfort. So it was agreed that Mūsā and his men should set off on their travels once more.
35
 
In 689 they marched south to Tirmidh on the Oxus, which was to be Mūsā’s base for the rest of his life. Here he met one of the
dehqāns
of the Tirmidh shāh, who was on bad terms with his master and was prepared to give Mūsā advice on how to approach him. He told him that the shāh was a generous and extremely shy monarch and if he was treated kindly and given presents, he would let Mūsā into his citadel, ‘for’, he added, ‘he is weak’. At first, when Mūsā arrived at the citadel, he ignored the advice and simply demanded to be let in, but when this was refused he resorted to guile. He invited the unsuspecting shāh to come out hunting with him and went to great lengths to treat him kindly. When they got back to the city the shāh prepared a banquet and invited Mūsā and a hundred of his followers to have lunch (
ghadā
). When Mūsā and his men rode into the city, their horses started to neigh to each other and the people of the city saw this as an evil omen. Worried, they told Mūsā and his men to dismount. Then they entered the palace and had their meal. When they had finished, Mūsā reclined and settled in but the shāh and his men, now increasingly anxious, asked them to leave. Mūsā simply refused, saying that he would never find another palace (
manzil
) as nice as this and it would either be his home or his grave. Fighting broke out in the city. A number of the inhabitants were killed and others fled. Mūsā took control of the city and told the shāh that he could leave and he would not stand in his way. So the shāh left and went to seek support from the Turkish nomads. They dismissed him with contempt, mocking him for allowing a hundred men to expel him from his homeland. ‘Besides,’ they said, ‘we have already fought these men at Kish and we don’t want to fight them again.’ History does not record the fate of the shāh, now an exile, but Transoxania in the eighth century was clearly no place for a naive and trusting ruler like him.
 
Mūsā was now established as ruler of the fortress and the city, owing allegiance to no one. He already had 700 men with him and when his father, Abd Allāh, was ignominiously killed in battle as he attempted to come to join him there, 400 of his followers survived to join Mūsā. With this small band, he set out to acquire more followers and wealth and defend himself against his enemies.
 
There were plenty of those. Against the Turks he is said to have used a mixture of wit and bluff to avoid conflict. Some of the stories seem to belong to a genre of folklore in which one ethnic group is terribly clever and another terribly stupid, in this case ‘smart Arabs, dim Turks’. They may reflect jokes that were in circulation at the time. In one improbable anecdote a deputation of Turks arrives in the height of summer (when temperatures in Tirmidh can reach 50 degrees Celsius), to find Mūsā and his companions sitting round a fire in all their winter clothes. When asked what they were doing they explained that they found it cold in the summer and hot in the winter. The Turks concluded that they must be
jinn
, spirits, not ordinary men, and so they left the Arabs without fighting them.
36
In another tale the Turkish chiefs sent Mūsā a gift of arrows (to signify war) or the valuable perfume musk (to signify peace) and asked him to choose. Typically, Mūsā responded by breaking the arrows and throwing the musk away. At this the Turks concluded that they would not take on a man who was so clearly out of his mind.

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