THE ERA OF THE CALIPHATE

When 'ABD ar-Rahman III sat on the throne of the Umayyad emirate in the year 912,  the Arab presence in the Iberian Peninsula had entered it's third century.  During this time many a storm, especially during the reign of the last two emirs, had threatened to up-root the Umayyad rule and perhaps the Arab existence from the Iberian soil, and drown their accomplishments for ever.  It seemed then that nothing less than a miracle was likely to save the situation, and destiny seemed to have had something in store for the Umayyads, by providing them with yet another chance so they might be able to continue the roles played by 'Abd ar-Rahman I and 'Abd ar-Rahman II.  This other chance came in the person of 'Abd ar-Rahman III who was able to catch the throne just before crashing into the dark ditches of decay and disintegration, then lift it up to the pinnacles of glory,  and resume laying the bricks of a great civilisation, the offerings of which are still evident in many a sphere of knowledge, and the monuments of which still stand as proud reminders of an era in the history of mankind worthy only of veneration and respect.

But how did this miracle happen, and what was the secret of this man whose court,  as the Arab historian, Al-Maqqari said in his book  Nafh at-Teeb, 'hosted great kings and royal envoys, who willingly came to pay him homage,  and departed gratified and obliged'.

Unlike most of the rulers of Al-Andalus, 'Abd ar-Rahman's ascension to the throne was not contested by either friend or foe. The dangers surrounding the fragile throne were too immense, and the teeth of the wolves gnawing the ailing body of the central government were too sharp to confront.  Little kingdoms suddenly emerged in various parts of the Peninsula without being challenged by the central authority;  for the central authority ceased to have any authority more than what the various tiny kingdoms enjoyed.

'Abd ar-Rahman III was ushered to the Umayyad throne by destiny.  For it was destiny which seemed to have sieved off the rightful successors or possible contenders namely,  his father and his uncle and possibly Qasim, the uncle of his father, all of whom were killed in the circumstances described earlier. So when he took office, 'Abd ar-Rahman did not only know what to expect, but also what to do.  For unlike most young princes,  'Abd ar-Rahman spent his early days close to the ruler and thus was watching the pillars of the state fall one after the other, and he realised, only too well, when he sat on the throne at the age of twenty three, that if he and the Umayyad rule were to survive, a daring approach was called for, an approach that was different from that followed by his grandfather.  There would be no half measures, no compromises and no individual confrontations, since those were unlikely to bring about other than temporary and fragmentary answers to that complex problem.  There was need for a comprehensive approach that would address all the causes which had brought about the fragmentation and disintegration of the central authority.

ëAbd ar-Rahman's open personality had always kept him completely detached from tribal over sensitiveness and strict affiliations.  Since his inception, he had taken a decision to bring all the rebels in the country under the authority of the central government, and with an olive branch in one hand and a shining sword in the other, he invited those rebels to rally under the Umayyad banner.  To make sure the message came home to all concerned, he sent envoys  confirming his unshaken determination to make good his threats.  When the message was duly delivered, there was little hesitation on the part of the rebels and mini-state leaders and one after the other, they announced their submission to the government of Cordoba. There were two exceptions though: Ibn-Hafsun, the chronic rebel and al-Hajjaj, the master of Seville.

To make good his threats, 'Abd ar-Rahman lead his army towards the invincible Bobastro fortress, the refuge of Ibn-Hafsun, which he put under siege following the fall of the rest of his domain.  As to Seville, it's conquest proved not so difficult, thanks to the internal struggle for power within the ruling family following the death of it's head Ibrahim ibn al-Hajjaj in 913.  With this other major obstacle removed, 'Abd ar-Rahman was able to re-unify the country under the Umayyad  rule within one year of taking office, a thing his grandfather could not do in a life time.

Ibn Hafsun, on the other hand, remained isolated in his strongly fortified fortress, counting the remaining days of his long eventful life.  But when finally convinced of the uselessness of his resistance after three years of siege, he surrendered  and was granted  pardon.

Having pacified the country and re-united it under the Umayyad standard, 'Abd ar-Rahman turned to the more difficult task of patching up the ailing economy and the restoration of the administrative structure,  as well as re-enforcing the army with foreign elements whom he kept directly under his control.  But while busy putting his house in order, 'Abd ar-Rahman was closely watching the developments that were taking place in the world around him, and monitoring the political arena which was rapidly changing scenes both in the Occident as well as in the Orient.

For in the oriental part of the Arab empire, the Abbasid Caliphate was rapidly decaying and the real power increasingly shifting towards the army officers and palace guards who were mainly Turks and Daylamites, while in the occidental part, a new caliphate rule was proclaimed in north Africa by the Shiite Fatimids.  By proclaiming another Caliphate, the Fatimids broke the unwritten code which provided for one caliphate in the world of Islam, headed only by a descendant of the noble tribe of Qureish.

In the light of those rapidly changing circumstances, 'Abd ar-Rahman's priority shifted towards foreign affairs, and his brains acted more rapidly than the changing situations did.

The strategy that was taking shape in the mind of 'Abd ar-Rahman was based on filling the possible gap which was threatening the legitimacy of Arab supremacy in the world of Islam, and the eventual shift of the ultimate power and prestige from the rightfully entitled Arabs to undeserving entities  completely foreign to the noble tribe of Qureish, the tribe of Prophet Muhammad.  The other aspect of 'Abd ar-Rahman's strategy aimed at forestalling the consolidation process of the dangerously evolving shiite movement which, in the absence of an able legitimate challenger, was posing a Shiite threat, not only to Al-Maghrib and Al-Andalus, but to the whole Muslim world.  Besides, if there were to be an alternative to the Abbasid caliphate, the Umayyads were the most deserving.  Certainly not the Turks nor, for that purpose, the Shiites.

'Abd ar-Rahman was a strong believer in destiny.  For him, it was destiny which blinded the Abbasids from finding his great ancestor 'Abd ar-Rahman I, brought him across the north African desert to Al-Andalus, and enabled him to revive the Umayyad glory in the west after it had vanished in the east.  It was destiny that sifted him out of the whole family and offered him the throne which he was able to save when others failed.  Shouldn't he, under the developing circumstances,  create a shield to protect his accomplishments and repel the dangers threatening the very existence of the Umayyad rule, and perhaps restore the Umayyad right to the caliphate of Islam ?.

'Abd ar-Rahman had little hesitation as to what he should do.  So in the year 929,  he proclaimed himself Amir al-Mu'minin Al Khalifa an-Nasir li-Din-illah 'Abd ar-Rahman III.

This undertaking was, of course, destined to provoke the other two caliphates and render him vulnerable to a double-thronged onslaught, not to mention the ever present threat posed by the Christian kings in the north.  So 'Abd ar-Rahman's first priority turned towards strengthening his armed forces.  As a safeguard against the possible implication of his Arab generals in internal politics and tribal struggle for power, 'Abd ar-Rahman recruited Slav soldiers and promoted them to the higher ranks in the armed forces, a move which proved quite short-sighted if not fatal in the long run.

For although those foreign elements had indeed stayed detached from internal politics, their growing numbers and influence, especially in the higher ranks of the army, aroused discontent among both the Arab and the Berber officers, thus rendering the armed forces less homogeneous at both the higher and lower ranks. This state of affairs consequently contributed to the defeat of the Arab army under the leadership of the Khalifa himself in the year 939 by Ramero II, king of Leon, whose courage and extra-ordinary military ability,  added to his almost fanatic crusading spirit, sparked off both the religious and nationalistic sentiments of the Christians in the northern part of the peninsula, and kept the front between the Christian combined forces of Galicia, Castille and Navarre, on the one hand, and the Muslim forces on the other, in almost continuous state of combat throughout most of  'Abd ar-Rahman's reign.

However, upon the death of Ramero II, the internal struggle for power between his two sons lead to the deterioration of conditions within the kingdom of Leon to such an extent that 'Abd ar-Rahman was called upon by his enemies to settle the issue between the two Christian brothers.  The decision of 'Abd ar-Rahman was in favour of Sancho who was duly installed as the unchallenged ruler of Leon.

'Abd ar-Rahman, thanks to his admirable character, strong personality and unquestionable sense of justice, was able to win the respect and admiration of both his own people as well as that of his enemies.  However, perhaps more important than all this, 'Abd ar-Rahman was, by instinct, a very able and far sighted politician and, as the historian R. Dozi says, more of a modern monarch than one from the middle ages.

With the pacification of the country internally as well as externally, 'Abd ar-Rahman thought he would then be able to sleep with more tranquillity.  But the winds of insurrection in Al-Andalus never ceased blowing, and no sooner a storm subsided than a new one erupted,  and this time the storm was gathering force in Al-Maghrib and threatening to cross the straits to Al-Andalus.  But 'Abd ar-Rahman was not oblivious of the danger, and was able to confront the Fatimids courageously and forcefully,  and although he had protected the integrity of the state quite efficiently,  one important element had skipped his mind, namely, the importance of having a strong naval force. So now his priority shifted to that direction,  and within a relatively short period of time,  'Abd ar-Rahman was able to upgrade his naval force to a formidable standard,  although he eventually never needed to use it against the Fatimids, for their attention, by then, had shifted to the Muslim East where they managed to grasp power from Kafur al-Ikhshidi in Egypt, and establish a Fatimid caliphate there, with their interest focusing on the oriental part of the Islamic world.
 

Dome of the great mosque of Cordoba

Until then, both  'Abd ar-Rahman's hands were busy,  one carrying the sword and the other actively constructing. Once the Fatimid danger finally receded, he dropped the sword and resumed his construction activities with both hands.  The country soon looked like a great workshop.  Palaces, roads, bridges, irrigation canals, schools, hospitals, mosques and other public utilities were being constructed everywhere. A university was also established within the Great Mosque of Cordoba, where Muslim and Christian students from the Iberian Peninsula as well as other European countries were educated in various disciplines.

The great mosque of Cordoba was originally ordered built by Abd ar-Rahman I in the year 786 on the sight where a Gothic church stood.  It is said that Abd ar-Rahman I had paid one hundred thousand dinars as a compensation for that church.  It is quite evident, from the Umayyad style of the mosque, that Abd ar-Rahman I had employed engineers and builders brought over from Syria.  The similarity in architecture between this mosque and the Umayyad Mosque in Damascus as well as the Aqsa mosque of Jerusalem, also built by the Umayyads cannot escape attention.

Abd ar-Rahman I had spared no effort or resources to make out of the mosque a monument which excelled all other monuments in splendour and size. However he died before it's completion.   Another part was later added to the southern end by Abd ar-Rahman II in 833, while his son Emir Muhammad (852-886) renovated the older part adding, in the process, a chamber,  maqsurah', for the rulers to rest and meet with the 'ulama',  the clergy, after prayers.  A further addition was ordered by Emir Abdullah ibn Muhammad (888-912), in the form of a covered passageway linking the mosque with the Emir's palace. Another subscriber yet to the great mosque was Abd ar-Rahman III (912-961), who ordered the renovation of it's facade and the erection of a new tower, which became known as Manarat an-Nasir, replacing the one built by Prince Hisham I, son of Abd ar-Rahman I. It was square shaped with a two-way  staircase, and was crowned with three large spheres of gold and a fourth of silver which reflected the sun rays over a long distance.

The great mosque, as already mentioned had a dual role, religious and educational. It served as a mosque and as a university where  some of the greatest scholars and scientists of Al-Andalus had acquired their knowledge. The mosque often served another purpose, an administrative one, as it was in the great mosque where the bay'ah or the vow of allegiance to the ruler was offered and where important orders and decrees were announced from it's pulpit.

Cordoba, being the seat of government, had the greatest share in the construction effort.  In addition to the extension of the great mosque toward the river, and the erection of the new  minaret, the wall of Cordoba was completed and extended.  In fact Cordoba looked like a great bee-hive with thousands upon thousands of able bodied men  laying bricks day and night, as if they were racing with time.  For Cordoba had become the capital of a caliphate, and had to look like one.  In fact, it had to be greater than any other capital,  including Baghdad itself.  'Abd ar-Rahman was determined to accomplish this and more.  For it was he who had upgraded the status of the emirate to that of a caliphate, and it was he, the cultured khalifa, who had rallied the learned men around him, and established institutions to nurture the cultural and scientific advancement of his people,  and it was he, thanks to his refinement, who adorned his beautiful capital with master pieces of architecture.

There was, however, one other great plan  developing in his mind.  A new city, great and beautiful, that would crown all his activities.  A city that would house a great palace worthy of a great khalifa, and house all the government offices which Cordoba could no longer host after becoming too congested with more than half a million inhabitants.  'Abd ar-Rahman wanted a capital greater than Baghdad, greater than Cairo, in fact greater than any existing capital then.

So while the masons were busy laying rows of brick in Cordoba, another great bee-hive began forming up in 936 in the outskirts, with engineers, architects, masons, carpenters, blacksmiths and all types of artisans swarming in from the four corners of the world to participate in the construction of that new royal metropolis which is to be named  Madinat az-Zahra'.  It was estimated that some ten thousand people were involved day and night for nearly forty years in the construction of the city, while  'Abd ar-Rahman was supervising and pushing in the hope of completing his great majestic city before he was gone.  But 'Abd ar-Rahman's hopes vanished with his death in 961.

Historians have described it as one of the greatest architectural undertakings of it's kind at the time, and the most expressive in terms of luxury and grandeur. The walled city had 1500 gates and was adorned by 4313 marble columns brought in from Africa, Rome and Constantinople.

According to accounts given by historians, particularly al-Maqqari, this city, and especially the palace of Abd ar-Rahman III, which he called al-Mu'nis, were of indescribable beauty, elegance and luxury.  As the camera cannot take us back to this magnificent city before it was destroyed, we have to merely visualise it through the descriptions of historians and from the photographs made of the little that had so far been excavated and reconstructed.

The construction activities started with the erection of the caliphate palace which was made up of two wings, an eastern wing which housed the Caliph's private quarters.   Among the rooms described in much detail by historians was the Caliphs bathroom which included a large green marble bath tub brought in from Greece, around which were twelve bronze statues with inlaid precious stones representing a lion, a gazelle, a crocodile, a snake, an eagle, an elephant, a dove, a falcon, a peacock, a cock, a kite, and a vulture, all ejecting water from their mouths or beaks into the tub.

The western wing, which was named by Abd ar-Rahman as Majlis Adhahab,golden hall, was where Abd ar-Rahman received his guests and important personalities.  According to the account given by al-Maqqari in his book Nafh at-Tib, this wing was the essence of luxury and grandeur. The marble walls of the main reception hall were decorated with inlaid golden and silver designs.   The hall had eight doors bordered by coloured marble and pure crystal columns with crowns made of ivory and ebony decorated with gold and precious stones. When the sun struck those doors, al-Maqqari continues, '...the rays were reflected onto the frontal part of the hall and it's walls, making magnificent designs that captured the eyes of those present.  In the middle of the hall was a large golden pond presented to the Caliph by the Byzantine Emperor Constantine VII.  Abd ar-Rahman had the pond filled with mercury.  When he felt playful he signalled to one of his servants to stir the still mercury in the pond. The reflected sun rays falling on it caused havoc in the hearts of his visitors, who felt the hall was flying as  the mercury was moving'.
 
 

Between the two wings was an extensive hall which was used on important occasions or when ambassadors were received in great pomp. Al-Maqqari concludes, '...and no one entering the palace, among those coming from remote countries of different faiths, be they kings, emissaries or famous merchants, who normally are the knowledgeable people, ever claimed having seen or heard of anything similar, nor had even imagined anything like it...'.

The gardens of the palace also received a great deal of attention from historians who gave detailed descriptions of their beauty and splendour and of their wild exotic animal population including lions, panthers, elephants, giraffes, camels as well as wild and domesticated birds. There were also a number of pools, pergolas and fish ponds scattered around the immense gardens with golden lions ejecting water from their mouths.

 Not far from the palace, a great mosque was built as well as accommodation for the palace staff, government offices, market places, public baths and private homes built with government subsidies to encourage people populate the new city.

However, this magnificent city was subjected to destruction and vandalism by the Berbers, following the fall of the caliphate. Most of it's columns, precious metals and other art objects were stolen and sold out, while stones of the of the destroyed buildings were used for other purposes including the construction of churches, monasteries and the repair of the wall of Cordoba. Hence no effort, however great, as is being exerted at present, will ever succeed in giving a visual impression of what this great place ever looked like.

Madinat az-Zahra'' was destined to disappear, as will be seen, within a much shorter period of time than it took to build, and to remain buried under the sands of oblivion for centuries until it was excavated by a Spanish archaeologist in 1910.

Cordoba, in the meanwhile, attained the zenith of its glory during the days of 'Abd ar-Rahman III, when it shone on the whole world with pride for it's unparalleled accomplishments in the fields of science, literature and art, and boasted of its great library which was second to none, not even to Dar al-Hikma of Baghdad.  And while the masons were building, the rest of the population was participating, one way or the other, and happily earning.  As a result of all these avtivities, the economy was booming, while a rich middle class was evolving out of relative poverty.  This state of affairs naturally attracted a growing number of highly qualified people in almost every field from beyond the eastern shores of the Mediterranean,  particularly Baghdad which, as already mentioned, was witnessing it's rapid downfall.
 
 

This affluence, added to the spirit of openness prompted by the attitude of the ruler, as well as the peace and tranquillity which were then prevailing in the country, helped in changing the very nature of people's life, rendering it more relaxed and more creative.  As their basic needs were now being more adequately met, and their minds more at peace, they turned towards fulfilling other needs. They felt a growing need to reward themselves for the hard work they performed.  So at dusk, every night, when the hammers were dropped, and the sweat washed away, Cordobans reached their lutes and tambourines while hips twisted and singers sang the typical Andalusian muashshah, the influence of which is still evident in most types of Spanish folklore music.

As far back as those days, Cordoba was lit at night by fifty thousand street lamps, at a time when the capitals of Europe were submersed in almost complete darkness.  London and Paris remained without one street light for about seven centuries to come. In addition to all that, Cordoba boasted then of its 700 mosques, 300 public baths, 113,000 houses and 70 public libraries in addition to countless shops and palaces.

 Cordoba did not attract only  scholars, poets, and artists, but also diplomatic missions from the Byzantine empire during the days of the cultured emperor Constantine VII and from the Holy Roman Empire during the days of Otto I,  as well as from the kings of Germany, Italy,  France , Leon and Navarre.

 In that atmosphere of political stability, supported by a great military might and backed by a prosperous economy, a middle-aged khalifa ascended the glorious throne of Al-Andalus in the year 961 following the death of his father Abd ar-Rahman III.  Al-Hakam II, at the age of fifty was offered glory on a gold platter, to which he seemed quite indifferent.  The splendour of the throne did not really matter much to him, it offered him little novelty,  for splendour was his shadow since he was born.  The only thing new to the throne was that it was he who was then to sit on it and be its custodian.

There was something else that captured his interest and mesmerised his mind, books.  Companionship was restricted to scientists, historians, philosophers and men of letters.  When one of those came to him, his life was filled with bliss.  Whenever he sent an emissary or an ambassador to another country, he filled his pockets with money to buy whatever rare and interesting books he could find, and whenever an ambassador was to come to him the best present he hoped for was a valuable manuscript that would quench his thirst for knowledge, and when one of his ministers came to him with a problem, he referred him to his chief minister, Al-Mushafi, who was completely empowered to take decisions on any matter without referring to him.  For to al-Hakam there was no problem that might face that powerful state, which rested on the most solid of solid rock, which his chief minister could not handle.

But the bibliophile cultured khalifa, the companion of scientists, historian, philosophers and scholars, and the lover of books and manuscripts did not delegate the authority to anyone for defending the security and integrity of the state when it was threatened by the Christian kings in the north.  For as usual, they had thought that with the death of the strong man, Abd ar-Rahman, whose grip was always tight on his sword, it would be easy to sever the soft hand of his son, which was used to nothing but the touch of books and manuscripts.

The calculations of those kings proved, however, not quite accurate.  For when King Sancho of Leon, who owed his throne to Abd ar-Rahman moved against the new ruler, the quiet, cultured and docile khalifa put aside the book and drew his sword with his soft hand and personally led a campaign against the ungrateful king who, having consolidated his status among the other Christian kings, abrogated the treaty signed with Abd ar-Rahman and launched an attack against the outposts of the Islamic state.

Thus in the year 963, Al-Hakam led his army northward, sweeping, as he did, the forces of king Fernando of Castille and regained the fortresses captured by King Sancho as well as some fortresses captured by the forces of the king of Navarre.

The winds of danger, however, did not blow only from the north.  For although the direct threat of the Fatimids in Al-Maghrib had subsided with their emphasis shifting towards Egypt, their influence remained embedded in the Berber tribe of Sinhaja.  But the tribe of Sinhaja had a strong rival Berber tribe in Al-Maghrib called the tribe of Zinata.  The tribe of Zinata was,  in the fabric of politics, an ally of the Umayyads of Al-Andalus, and in the course of the struggle for power between those two major tribes, the Sinhaja tribe swept the strong holds of the Umayyads in Ceuta and Melilia while the Idrisids, who belonged to another Shiite sect captured Tangier. Al-Hakam quickly launched a campaign across the straits and regained the Umayyad strongholds there in the year 973.

But Al-Hakam died without resolving the issue of the struggle for power in the neighbouring land.  In fact he was quite oblivious to the need of nominating a successor to the great throne established by his father.  For as we have seen, apart from quelling immediate threats,  al-Hakam was more occupied with his books and manuscripts.  The great throne was to him a mere accessory he rarely ever remembered.  In fact he did not seem to realise its importance, nor was he aware of his real responsibilities towards it or towards securing it's continuity.  One important accomplishment of al-Hakam though  was the addition he made to the great mosque of Cordoba namely, the third  mihrab,niche, which is considered a masterpiece of art. The facade of the mihrab was made of gold and coloured mosaic presented to the caliph by the Byzantine emperor.

The mosaic pieces were brought in and fitted by technicians along the arabesque style.  Covering the mihrab area is a dome of indescribable beauty. It had often been described as one of the most beautiful works of art in the world.

Moreover, his books rendered him oblivious even of the function of reproduction, which his ancestors had practised with great diligence and promiscuousness and boasted about the scores of off-springs they had brought to the world.  So while Al-Hakam's library contained tens of thousands of books, his off-spring's were restricted to one called Hisham, whose mother was a Christian concubine named Subh (Aurora). Subh presumably had excelled herself and made the best use of her womanly endowments to arouse the desire in him at least once, with the hope of coming out with an heir to the throne who would guarantee for her the continuity of her influence in the palace when her master passed away.

That accomplished, Aurora's ever indomitable desires shifted towards a handsome, cultured, intelligent and well spoken young man who was, through those qualities, able to penetrate the walls of the palace, and make his way through to the second post in the state, and the first, in the heart of the fascinating and influential Christian concubine Subh, the mother of the only legal heir to the great throne of the Umayyad dynasty in Al-Andalus.

The man's name was Muhammad ibn abi 'Amir.  Having completed his studies in the great mosque of Cordoba, Ibn 'Amir, who came from a poor but respectable family , set up an office comprising, a low chair and a board which rested upon his knees, purchased the necessary equipment consisting of a pen, ink and writing paper, and so spent the early years of his life writing for the illiterates their personal letters and petitions, against a fee that served to keep him through life.

Having given birth to a son, the only son the khalifa was able to produce, the main concern of Subh was then to have that son formally designated as the only rightful heir to the throne. But the brother of al-Hakam, al-Mughira ibn Abd ar-Rahman was not to allow the son of a concubine to sit on the throne of the Umayyad state, certainly not one who was still a child.  With this setting, the strings of palace politics became quite entangled.  Two main groups began campaigning for the post of heir to the throne with the khalifa as he was approaching his end.  The brother, al-Mughira, backed by the palace Slavic guards and the army on the one hand, and the chief minister al-Mus-hafi, Ibn 'Amir and Subh, on the other.  The battle was finally won by Subh's group, who were able to convince the khalifa to designate Hisham as an heir to the throne, under the legal guardianship of a regency council consisting of both al-Mus-hafi and Muhammad ibn abi 'Amir.

When the khalifa died in the year 976, the allied trio carried the child, who was not yet ten, and sat him at the edge of the enormous throne, giving him the title Amir al-Mu'minin (Commander of the Faithful), al-Mu'ayyad Bi-llah, Hisham ibn al-Hakam.

Ibn 'Amir, however, did not believe in partnership.  The mace of power could not be held by two.  But before settling the issue of who was to hold the mace, there was one major threat that needed elimination.  The threat was posed by a possible contestant to the throne, Al-Mughira, the brother of the deceased khalifa.  An elimination plan had long been drawn in the mind of Ibn 'Amir.   Al-Mughira was first on the list. That was easy. He had him strangled.  The next was one he had to contend with, with great caution.   For al-Mus-hafi was a  man with unlimited powers and was well experienced in palace politics.  It was he who actually was running the affairs of the state while the khalifa was busy devouring one book after another.  Ibn 'Amir knew that very well.  He also knew that it would be difficult for him alone to overcome that man.  He needed an ally.

Who could be better than Ghalib, the enemy of yesterday, the strong man of the army who had backed the nomination of Al-Mughira, versus that of Hisham, the son of Subh.  How to turn yesterday's enemy into an ally, is normally a difficult endeavour;  difficult, but not impossible.  Not to Ibn 'Amir, the man who was able to climb from the status of petition writer outside the palace gates to the post of the second man in the state before he was even thirty.  To Ibn 'Amir, such an undertaking was not an impossibility.  He was simply not made to remain in the shadow of someone else.

Ghalib, the strong man of the army, was an experienced army commander with wide popularity.  He commanded a great deal of power.  He also had a daughter.  What could be a stronger seal than that of marriage.  Ibn 'Amir used all his intelligence to get cautiously closer to Ghalib,  and in little time was able to win his confidence and friendship, and before long Ibn 'Amir was able to crown that relationship by marrying his daughter.  No sooner had he placed the seal of marriage on this alliance than started preparing for the next step, namely, plucking the feathers off the wings of the chief minister, the strong man of the palace, as a prelude to his elimination.
 
 

The first step in that direction was the dismantling of the highly influential Slavic palace guards, which he did with the full approval of Al-Mus-hafi.   His thesis was that those guards were not to be trusted having supported the brother of al-Hakam against Hisham.  The move was hailed by al-Mus-hafi as being not only far sighted, but quite  brilliant.  Al-Mushafi had no doubts,  of course,  regarding Ibn 'Amir's intentions.  He did not realise that Ibn 'Amir was merely replacing them with his own men from the police force which was directly under his command, as commander of the force himself.

Before taking the next step towards the elimination of al Mus-hafi, Ibn 'Amir had his greatest strike of luck yet.  For as was always the case upon the death of the ruler, the Christian kingdoms in the north began moving against the Arab strong-holds to take what they could before the new ruler was able to adapt to the new developments and take the necessary measures for the normal running of the state. This time the move took place in Castille, where the Arab fortress of Rabah had been overrun and it's occupants massacred.

Throughout their presence in the Iberian Peninsula, the Arabs had never allowed a thing like that to happen without an immediate and devastating punishment. Following that the victorious leader returned always amidst jubilation and festivities, while poems glorifying him were recited in the streets and market places, and news of his victory announced from mosque pulpits throughout the land.

On this particular occasion, the chief minister's mind was focusing on security matters following the special circumstances that surrounded the ascension of Hisham to the throne.  When faced with this excuse, Ibn 'Amir, who had once commanded the Umayyad forces despatched to Al-Maghrib to quell the rebellion of the Berber tribe of Sinhaja, volunteered to lead the forces attacking the Castillian enemy.  Again the trick escaped al-Mus-hafi.  Ibn 'Amir returned victorious.  The psychological impact of the loss of Rabah fortress and the annihilation of the Arab contingent was rectified.  His name was glorified in poetry and in prose from the high mosque minarets, and further credit was added to his long list of qualifications.  He was now also a great military leader, a hero.

This, of course, was all at the expense of the prestige of al-Mus-hafi, the chief minister.   But ibn 'Amir needed more than one victory in order to consolidate his supremacy.  He needed another stunning action to instill the image an accomplished military leader in the minds of the people. This time he participated in a campaign against the Christian kingdoms under the leadership of Ghalib, his father-in-law and ally.  Again the campaign was a great success, and the two returned victorious, with Ibn 'Amir winning the admiration of the commander as well as that of the public.  But before the voices of praise subsided, Ibn 'Amir, in collaboration with Subh, the mother of the new khalifa, dismissed the governor of Cordoba, the capital, and installed himself in the post.  The deposed governor was no other than  the son of Al-Mushafi, the chief minister.

That accomplished, Ibn 'Amir began preparing for another military campaign against the Christian kingdoms of the north in collaboration with Ghalib, his father-in-law, and again returned victorious in the company of Ghalib whom he then appointed as a parallel chief minister on the same footing with al-Mus-hafi.  Before  the ink of the decree had dried another decree was promulgated dismissing Al-Mus-hafi from his post and sentencing him to imprisonment on charges of embezzlement of public funds.  Al-Mus-hafi did not last long in prison. He was found murdered in his cell.

No sooner had Ibn 'Amir settled the issue of al-Mus-hafi than he began putting the finishing touches to a plan for the elimination of the other obstacles which stood in his way towards unchallenged power and absolute rule. There were two other persons who still enjoyed a certain degree of influence in the running of the palace and  state affairs: Subh and Ghalib.  Subh was still useful. Through her, Ibn 'Amir extracted the legitimacy from her son the khalifa in every action he undertook, starting with the dismissal of the governor of Cordoba to the appointment of himself in the post, the appointment of Ghalib as a parallel chief minister, the dismissal of al-Mushafi and his imprisonment.  All this was done legally.  The decrees were issued in the name of the khalifa and carried his signature and his seal, and the seal of the khalifa was in the hands of his mother Subh.

Ghalib began having cold feet.  He realised that his son-in-law had little scruples and that his ambitions knew no limits.  He also felt he was becoming totally eclipsed by the glamour in which Ibn 'Amir had engulfed himself, even in his own field, the military field.  He had little doubts that his turn was coming up, and coming up soon; and both were now digging ditches for each other.

This time the initiative came from Ghalib who suggested that they both went on a routine campaign against the Christian kingdoms in the north.  One evening, during the campaign, the father-in-law invited his son-in-law to dine with him in his tent. After the banquet was over and the other guests had left, Ghalib invoked an argument which ended up with his sword falling on Ibn 'Amir, who, being dubious of his father-in-law's intentions managed to avoid the impact of the strike and escaped death with just a little wound.  Having failed in his endeavour to get rid of Ibn 'Amir,  Ghalib fled north where, it was said, he struck an alliance with the Basque against Ibn 'Amir, and recruited some Christian mercenaries to fight him.  When the forces of the father-in-law and those of the son-in-law finally came to grips in the battle field, Ghalib fell, leaving the arena completely to Ibn 'Amir.

The cloister of the great mosque of Cordoba

That done, Ibn 'Amir returned to Cordoba to wash his hands of the blood of his last rival, and to wash, from Cordoba, the remaining Umayyad presence with the exception of the caliphate which he allowed to continue for the sake of legitimacy.  The only reward he allowed himself, was the title of Al-Mansur (the Victorious), leaving the title of Khalifa to its legitimate owner, the child who was sitting in his mother's lap in a little corner of the big throne, the throne which he was destined never to completely fill.

So, in the year 981, Muhammad ibn Abi 'Amir, al-Hajib al-Mansur  became the un-crowned king of the Arab state of Al-Andalus, which henceforth became known as the 'Amirid state, after Ibn 'Amir.  Since then the legal tender of the state carried his name, and it was he who was then being glorified by the Imams from the pulpits of all the mosques throughout the land.

With the road clear for absolute rule, al-Mansur turned to normal life and the normal functions of the state. His first major action was the disposal of Arab aristocracy embodied in the Umayyads.  Al-Mansur then turned to fulfil his life long dream of leading, the life of the grand lord. He gathered the most famous scholars and poets around him and afforded them his protection and sponsorship.

But the grand lord, the un-crowned king of the great state of Al-Andalus deserved the pomp and luxury of kings.  And if An-Nasir ('Abd ar-Rahman III) had built Madinat Az-Zahra' , Al-Mansur shall build Madinat Az-Zahira.  And if Az-Zahra' gleamed with splendour and became a master piece of art, Az-Zahira would be a jewel no less glorious; and should Al-Mansur fail to procure as fine pieces of art as did An-Nasir, all he had to do was transfer those of Az-Zahra' to Az-Zahira.  After all, the distance between the two was not so great, and the difference between Az-Zahra' and Az-Zahira, and between An-Nasir and Al-Mansur was really marginal.  Consequently orders were issued to construct Madinat Az-Zahira which was also surrounded by walls and included a mosque and other public amenities and government offices.

Construction activities started in 979, and upon completion two years later Al-Mansur moved to Madinat Az-Zahira which soon attracted many of the dwellers of Madinat az-Zahra' , either because of their relations with the state administration or as a gesture towards the actual ruler. The boundaries of Az-Zahira soon extended towards Cordoba and the activities which az-Zahra'  had once enjoyed, were soon to transfer to Az-Zahira, where state functions took place in the new palace of Al-Mansur.

However the life of Az-Zahira was even shorter than that of az-Zahra'. For when al-Mansur passed away, his son Abdullah who took over died seven years later, to be succeeded by his brother Shanjul, who was soon killed by the Umayyads in the circumstances already described, and the city of his father pulled down to earth with nothing to testify to it's past.

Al-Mansur had by now become the absolute ruler of the Arab state of Al-Andalus.  He had no rivals, no one to contest his position. At least no one dared.  He had eliminated every possible danger.  He had consolidated the armed forces and re-enforced them with efficient elements who owed their allegiance to him personally, so that they would provide the necessary protection for him from any possible dangers whether emanating from within or from without.  He had by then established himself as a national hero, with a record of victories in more than fifty campaigns against the Christian kings of the north, including one against Barcelona in 985 which he left in flames and another against Leon in 988.  He had not lost one single battle.  His popularity in this field seemed to have blinded people to the oppressive nature of his rule.

Some sources say that Al-Mansur had spent his younger days sitting in one of the corners of the great mosque of Cordoba praying or studying, and that had instilled in him the faith which led him to wage the holy Jihad, in the name of God against the Christian kingdoms in the north, and set a record that no one before nor after him had ever matched in the long history of Al-Andalus.  According to those sources, it was his strong religious feelings that induced him also to enlarge the area of the great mosque of Cordoba by one third it's size then.  The extension took place eastward, and when completed in 987, the total number of columns had increased to 1417 and that of the chandeliers to 280.

Yet to the religious leaders,  al-Mansur was not religious enough. Their disapproval did not however emanate from a sense of compassion for his victims nor from a sense of disgust at his oppressive character and brutality. The clergy, who were always aspiring for a more influential role in the running of the state had always had a weapon to brandish against the ruler who was unwilling to accommodate their ambitions.

A campaign was launched to sow seeds of suspicion among the masses regarding his religious beliefs.  In his vulnerable situation as a 'usurper' of legitimacy, al-Mansur thought it perhaps more prudent to abstain from confrontation.  He concealed his rationalism under a cloak of piety and committed his greatest crime yet when he ordered the destruction of all books in the fields of philosophy, logic and science which his predecessor and benefactor al-Hakam II spent his life and money to acquire and copy.

Otherwise, al-Mansur did very little in the way of construction of public utilities, certainly nothing of any grand style.  This was probably in order to disassociate himself from the style of the Umayyads, and to appear as a man who was distant from pomp and glamour.  Consequently, the construction activity which was launched by 'Abd ar-Rahman III, declined noticeably, so did the festive social life and the intellectual enterprise which, for a long time, were encouraged and sponsored by many a ruler in Cordoba.  In fact, during the thirty years of Al-Mansur's rule, Cordoba had lost most of it's glamour, in-spite of the continuous economic boom enjoyed during this period as a result of political stability and military superiority.
 
 

When al-Mansur passed away in the year 1002, after thirty years of absolute rule, Hisham, the khalifa was already an adult, without, however, having enjoyed any powers except the power of signing the decrees drawn by al-Mansur.  Otherwise he was oblivious of what was happening outside the palace gates.  He was probably not even aware of the existence of another state outside the palace walls known as the Amirid state and that the succession of rule in that state had become hereditary.  For as long as he held the title of Emir al- Mu'minin, and enjoyed the power of signing the decrees prepared by al-Mansur, he was content and happy.

No one contested the ascension of 'Abdul-Malik ibn  Muhammad ibn Abi 'Amir, the son of al-Mansur, who assumed the title of al-Hajib al-Mudhaffar.  Like his father, 'Abdul-Malik resumed the jihad against the Christian kingdoms of the north, whose provocation was becoming increasingly aggressive since the disappearance of Al-Mansur.  But the arm of the son proved as strong and as long as that of the father, and when it struck the pain was felt for a long time.

If history did not rank 'Abdul-Malik on the same level as his father, it was probably due to the fact that he had spent only seven years in that post.  He died in the year 1009, while on his way to one of his routine campaigns against the Christian kingdoms in the north.  He probably did not realise, as he was struggling with death, that when he was to be lowered into his grave, a whole chapter, the chapter of the Umayyad caliphate would go down with him, and that the date of his death would mark the slide down of the Arab state in Al-Andalus towards the sunset of it's brilliant history.

Al Mudhaffar was succeeded by his brother Shanjul. His real name was Abd ar-Rahman ibn Muhammad ibn Abi' Amir.  Shanjul (Sanchuelo) was a nick-name he was given after his mother 'Abda who was the daughter of Sancho Abarca, the Christian king of Pamplona.  Shanjul did not inherit from his father any of the qualities that would qualify him to occupy the important post which his father and later, his brother filled brilliantly, and rendered it the real centre of power in the state.  Neither did he inherit from his father the great quality of farsightedness which guaranteed him the real power rather than the title, the pulp rather than the crust.

Shanjul was not interested in the exercise of his sovereign powers except to the extent necessary to provide him with the necessary luxuries and grandeur. And one of the prerequisites of grandeur was the title.  The holder of the real title was a mere dwarf still sitting on  his mother's lap, with no powers nor any authority whatsoever, except, as he knew very well, the power of signing decrees presented to him by the 'hajib,' the chief minister.  Whereas he, Shanjul, was the son of that great giant who had tamed his ferocious enemies, and whose fame had reached the four corners of the earth, and with his iron fist had moulded glory and made history.  And if it was imperative that the khalifa should stay on his throne, he, Shanjul, would be the heir to the throne.

The khalifa exercised his power once more.  He signed a decree prepared  by Shanjul designating him heir to the Umayyad throne. Shanjul carried the signed decree happily, unaware that what he carried so happily in his hand was no more than a pass ushering him towards his grave.  For the Umayyads, who still had some presence in the land, revolted under the leadership of Muhammad ibn Hisham ibn 'Abd aj-Jabbar ibn 'Abd ar-Rahman III and in collaboration with the enemies of the Amirids, captured Cordoba, while Shanjul was away, deposed Hisham, the khalifa, and proclaimed himself khalifa in the year 1009, assuming the title of Al-Mahdi, after having annihilated the Amirids including Shanjul.

The first indications were that al-Mahdi( divinely inspired leader awaited by the Muslims), who chose that title as an omen for the resurrection of the Umayyad dynasty, would restore to the caliphate it's prestige, to the Umayyads their glory and to their capital it's splendour and glamour.  But it was the Umayyads themselves, in a struggle for power who began digging the ditch underneath the new khalifa, thus encouraging other elements of the population to follow suit. The campaign against the new Khalifa was further strengthened by comparing  al-Mahdi with the great Umayyad caliphs like An-Nasir who had grasped the state just before sinking into the abyss and lifted it to the apex of glory.  But alas, great men are not born every day, and as long as the welfare and destiny of a system depended exclusively upon the personality of the ruler, the prospects for continuation after his death are normally dubious.

The Umayyads missed two opportunities when they were in a position to institutionalise the government and melt tribalism in a national melting pot.  Whether they had tried hard enough, is uncertain.  What is certain was that the inter-twining of that highly heterogeneous conglomeration of  people forming the so-called Andalusian society, added to the already fervent tribal fanaticism of the rulers, had rendered any such endeavour difficult, if not impossible, to materialise.

The Umayyad rule survived, however, for another quarter of a century.  Its only accomplishment was an increasing number of revolts and conspiracies, the further sharpening of tribal feuds, the falling of more heads and the creation of more caliphate titles.  A chief minister by the name of Abul-Hazm ibn Jahwar finally felt that the situation had deteriorated far enough.  He annihilated the Umayyads once and for all, buried the caliphate with their dead bodies in a deep grave, and inscribed on the grave stone the date of the end of the caliphate, the year of the lord, 1031, which date in fact marked the beginning of the long sunset which the Islamic state was to witness before the big curtain finally fell, turning that period of Arab existence in the Iberian Peninsula into just another era in the long pages of history books.