CHAPTER SIX
For a period of seven months, from December 1303 to July 1304, the Marīnid prince and Ghuzāh leader al-‘Abbās b. Raḥḥū served as commander of the Aragonese jenets, leaving in his wake a lengthy trail of Latin, Romance, and Arabic evidence in both archives and chronicles. Not only the paper chase that he initiated but also the moment that he chose to cross make al-‘Abbās the ideal case for understanding the motivations of the Aragonese jenets and their relationship to the Marīnid Ghuzāh. In March 1304, just after al-‘Abbās’ entry into its service, the Crown of Aragon entered into negotiations with Castile that would lead to the signing of the Treaty of Agreda. For the first time in two decades, since the emergency that first led King Pere II to recruit jenets in 1285, the Crown of Aragon and Castile entered into an alliance and called for a crusade against Muslim Granada.1 Although in earlier periods, as during the War of the Jenets (Guerra Jenetorum), jenets served the Aragonese kings while Ghuzāh raided Aragonese lands, where would the loyalties of the jenets fall in this moment?2
Born in Rebellion
In the century of collaboration between the kings of the Crown of Aragon and the Muslim jenets, it is the fact that these soldiers were recruited from and commanded by members of the Marīnid al-Ghuzah al-Mujāhidūn—holy warriors who had come to the Iberian Peninsula to defend Muslims and raiders who terrorized Christian villagers and incited Mudéjares to revolt—that is the hardest of swallow. Al-‘Abbās b. Raḥḥū was not a marginal figure among the Ghuzāh. In fact, he was a son of one of the three exiled Marīnid princes who founded this corps, and across the late thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, numerous members of his family, the Banū Raḥḥū, would serve both as leaders of the Marīnid Ghuzāh and as Aragonese jenets. What then was the relationship of the Ghuzāh to the jenets? In order to answer this question, it is worth standing back to consider the history of these holy warriors.
While Aragonese archival sources tell us little about the origin and nature of the Ghuzāh, the situation in Arabic chronicles is better but still problematic. Only two historians spoke of these Marīnid soldiers in any detail. The Andalusī polymath and politician Ibn al-Khaṭīb, who dealt directly with the leaders of the Ghuzāh at the Naṣrid court, left brief descriptions and biographies of them in his works. More substantially, Ibn Khaldūn devoted the final part of his Kitāb al-‘ibar to an account of the leaders of the Ghuzāh, whom he called “the princes (qarāba al-murashshaḥīn) of the family of ‘Abd al-Ḥaqq [the founder of the Marīnid dynasty] among the holy warriors (al-Ghuzāh al-Mujāhidūn) in al-Andalus who shared power with the Naṣrid ruler and distinguished themselves in the leadership of jihād.”3 Ibn Khaldūn’s history of the Ghuzāh is the only systematic record of them from their rise in 1262 to the imprisonment of their last leader in 1369.4 Thus, the limitations of Ibn Khaldūn’s history are also, to a great extent, the limitations for understanding the Ghuzāh.
The Ghuzāh were born out of rebellion in North Africa. Their first leaders, members of the Banū Idrīs and Banū Raḥḥū, two closely related branches of the Marīnid royal family, arrived as men banished from their homeland following an uprising against the Marīnid sultan Abū Yūsuf in 1262.5 This was not their first or last rebellion in North Africa. Nine years later, in 1271, a second uprising pushed more members of these princely families into al-Andalus. This second wave included Mūsā b. Raḥḥū, the first to receive the title of commander (shaykh al-ghuzāh) from the Naṣrid sultans and the man to whom Conrad Lancia and Samuel Abenmenassé held letters of introduction.6 In 1286, a third princely branch, the Banū Abī al-‘Ulā, known as the Fijos de Ozmín in Castilian chronicles, joined the Ghuzāh in exile.7
The Naṣrid rulers of Granada greeted these North African exiles with extensive privileges and placed them in command of the various soldiers along their frontiers with the Crown of Aragon and Castile. Ibn Khaldūn did question the motivations of the first Marīnid princes to arrive in the Iberian Peninsula: “They entered al-Andalus under the pretense of performing jihād (tawriyatan bi’l-jihād) but they were only seeking refuge, fleeing from his [the Marīnid sultan’s] authority (maḥallihi).”8 Nevertheless, military successes rapidly brought them tremendous authority and enthusiastic acolytes.9 Princes and soldiers from the kingdoms of North Africa crossed the sea to join the Ghuzāh, replenishing their ranks continually. Ultimately, these Marīnid princes commanded a motley crew of Zanāta and Arab soldiers as well as a mixture of salaried soldiers and ascetic warriors. These ascetic warriors were men who had devoted themselves voluntarily to holy war. The Ghuzāh resided both at the city of Granada, where they protected the Naṣrid sultans, and in frontier fortresses, which were simultaneously military and religious institutions from which they conducted raids into Christian territory.10 As Romance and Arabic sources confirm, the Ghuzāh played a decisive role the battles of Moclín (1280), Alicún (1316), de la Vega (1319), and Teba (1331), triumphs that resonated across the peninsula and the Mediterranean.
The extensive success of the Ghuzāh for a period of a century reflected not only their military strength but also the delicate balance of power in the western Mediterranean after the collapse of the Almohad Caliphate. For the Marīnid sultans in North Africa, the existence of the Ghuzāh served two purposes. First, this institution offered a tidy solution to the problem of royal succession at Fez. By banishing competitors, sending them across the sea, the Marīnid rulers aimed to free themselves from internal threats while nevertheless keeping these pretenders within reach. For instance, when the Marīnid sultan sent the powerful prince ‘Abd al-Ḥaqq b. ‘Uthmān to Iberia to join the Ghuzāh, he asked that the Naṣrids imprison ‘Abd al-Ḥaqq upon his arrival in Granada.11 This caution was wise: the prince escaped from prison; fled to “Christian territory (dār al-ḥarb)”; and ultimately returned to North Africa, where he continued to conspire against the Marīnids.12 Second, the Marīnid sultans’ creation of and support for the Ghuzāh demonstrated their commitment to jihād.13 From the Aghlabids to the Almohads, Islamic rulers in the North Africa and al-Andalus had employed holy war against not only Christians but also other Muslims to establish their temporal and spiritual authority, to gain approval from jurists and warriors.14 By choosing to call these troops “al-Ghuzāh,” these sultans may have also intended to draw a comparison between themselves and the Almohads, who maintained a homologous military division. In other words, in the eyes of the Marīnid sultans, the Ghuzāh were an important symbol of their claim to be the rightful heirs of these caliphs.15
For the exiled Marīnid princes, al-Andalus offered not only refuge but also opportunity. Their participation and success in jihād lent these princes an authority that came to rival that of the Marīnid sultan. For instance, with renewed prestige, Mūsā b. Raḥḥū was able to reconcile with the powers in Fez. He arranged for the marriage of his daughter to the Marīnid sultan Abū Ya‘qūb.16 Rather differently, ‘Uthmān b. Abī al-‘Ulā, who first commanded the Ghuzāh at Málaga in 1302, took advantage of a dispute between the Naṣrids and Marīnids over the port of Ceuta to declare his candidacy for the Marīnid throne. With Naṣrid support, he returned to North Africa, gathered a large following among his tribesmen, and besieged the Marīnids.17 Significantly, after his defeat in 1308, ‘Uthmān was welcomed back to Granada, where he would eventually become the most famous commander of the Ghuzāh, conducting some 732 raids into Christian territory.18
As the cases of ‘Abd al-Ḥaqq and ‘Uthmān demonstrate, from the perspective of the Naṣrids, the Ghuzāh provided a useful counterweight to the Marīnids, who were the most powerful Islamic force in the western Mediterranean. Although they had withdrawn many of their own forces after 1285, the Marīnids maintained a handful of fortresses on the Iberian Peninsula, the most prominent of which was the fortress at Algeciras, al-Binya, which served as a beachhead for troops arriving from their lands.19 Thus, while the Naṣrids relied upon Marīnid military assistance, they also worried that these North Africa sultans secretly planned to overrun them. In this sense, the Ghuzāh were ideal. They not only protected the Naṣrids but also chastened the Marīnids. Indeed, ‘Abd al-Ḥaqq and ‘Uthmān were not the only princes whom the Naṣrids supported in rebellion against the Marīnids. Fifty years later, ‘Uthmān’s son, Idrīs b. ‘Uthmān Abī al-‘Ulā also attempted and failed to seize the Marīnid throne. Idrīs sought refuge in Barcelona for a period of two years and then was recalled to Granada, where he took command of the Ghuzāh from 1359 to 1362.20
These Marīnid scions also proved beneficial to the Naṣrids in other, familiar ways. They served in the Naṣrid court as members of the sultan’s entourage, as his protectors, advisors, and ambassadors.21 By taking command of the salaried troops and volunteer warriors from North Africa along the weakened frontiers with the Crown of Aragon and Castile, they helped to secure the fragile kingdom of Granada. In addition to combatting external threats, the Ghuzāh also suppressed internal rebellions, a fact that occasionally drove a wedge between local Muslims and these North African arrivistes.22 In return, the Naṣrids compensated the leaders of the Ghuzāh handsomely, granting them a share of tax revenues and permitting them to retain all spoils and lands that they seized in battle.23 In short, the Naṣrids employed and compensated the Ghuzāh in almost precisely the same fashion as Crown of Aragon did its jenets.
Rivalries among the leaders of the Ghuzāh also emerged as a defining feature of their history, one that ultimately led their downfall. Across a hundred years, command of the Ghuzāh fell almost exclusively into the hands of one of two families, the Banū Raḥḥū and the Banū Abī al-‘Ulā.24 With one significant interruption, discussed below, the Banū Raḥḥū dominated this post until 1314. Mūsā b. Raḥḥū was succeeded by his brother, ‘Abd al-Ḥaqq, who was then succeeded by his son, Ḥammū.25 In 1314, however, a rebellion backed by ‘Uthmān b. Abī al-‘Ulā forced the Naṣrid sultan Naṣr (r. 1309–1314) to flee Granada with his protectors, the Banū Raḥḥū, and ultimately abdicate the throne in favor of Ismā‘īl I (r. 1314–1325).26 Once in command of the Ghuzāh, ‘Uthmān greatly expanded the authority of the post, provoking the jealousy and anger of the Marīnid sultan.27 He had his Berber competitors, the members of the Banū Raḥḥū, deported to North Africa.28 According to Ibn Khaldūn, he also arranged to have Ismā‘īl assassinated and replaced by a minor, Muḥammad IV (r. 1325–1333), effectively seizing direct control of the Naṣrid state.29 Although ‘Uthmān’s rivals at court managed to recall the Banū Raḥḥū from North Africa to challenge his position, ‘Uthmān clung to power and managed to pass command of the Ghuzāh to his son in 1330.30
The fortunes of the Banū Abī al-‘Ulā and Banū Raḥḥū reversed after the involvement of the Ghuzāh in the assassination of Muḥammad IV. Fearful of their growing power, the new Naṣrid sultan, Yūsuf I (r. 1333–1354), had the Banū Abī al-‘Ulā deported to Tunis and placed a member of the Banū Raḥḥū, Yaḥyā b. ‘Umar b. Raḥḥū, in command of the Ghuzāh in 1337.31 With the exception of a brief interruption in the reign of Muḥammad V from 1359 to 1362, when Idrīs b. ‘Uthmān b. Abī al-‘Ulā arrived from Barcelona to take command of the Ghuzāh, a member of the Banū Raḥḥū held this position from 1337 to 1367.32 The last commander of the Ghuzāh, who held the post until 1369, was from neither the Banū Raḥḥū nor the Banū Abī al-‘Ulā.33
For some time before 1369, however, the Naṣrids had grown tired of the machinations of the Marīnid princes. Ibn al-Khaṭīb, the chief minister (wazīr) at the Naṣrid court of Muḥammad V, resented the strong influence of these Berber princes.34 Taking advantage of the weakness of the Marīnids as well as the Christian Iberian kingdoms in 1363, he convinced Muḥammad to imprison Yaḥyā b. ‘Umar b. Raḥḥū and place a Naṣrid prince in command of the Ghuzāh.35 This initial attempt to suppress the Marīnid leaders of the Ghuzāh was rejected by their soldiers, and the Banū Raḥḥū clung to power. In 1369, Ibn al-Khaṭīb conspired again. This time, he forged letters implicating the Ghuzāh in a coup plot, which convinced the sultan to arrest the last known commander of the Ghuzāh and take direct control of these soldiers himself. With this act, the Ghuzāh ceased to be an independent institution. According to Ibn Khaldūn, the remaining Marīnid princes in Granada held only an honorific role at court.36 And in that same year, underscoring his shift away from dependence on North African military support, Muḥammad captured the fortress at Algeciras and dismantled its massive fortifications, an enduring symbol of Marīnid influence in Granada.37 The suppression of the Ghuzāh, however, did not end the trade in soldiers. In 1377, Muḥammad and King Pere III signed a bilingual truce, in which Granada promised to continue to supply the Crown of Aragon with soldiers, referred to simply as “knights” (fursān/caballeros) rather than jenets, so long as they were only used against mutual enemies.38
As a whole and across their history, the Ghuzāh were riven by tensions. They were caught between the motivations of the Marīnids and the Naṣrids, motivations that occasionally aligned and occasionally ran contrary to one another. They were also divided by the ambitions of their leaders, the members of the Banū Raḥḥū and the Banū Abī al-‘Ulā, who not only struggled among themselves for position at the Naṣrid court in Granada but also harbored desires to return to power at the Marīnid court in North Africa. Although Ibn Khaldūn made no mention of the fact that the Ghuzāh sold their services to the Crown of Aragon, he did tell us that these kinds of intra-Muslim tensions occasionally compelled leaders of the Ghuzāh, like Idrīs b. ‘Uthmān b. Abī al-‘Ulā, to seek refuge at the Aragonese court.39 Thus, he offered us one explanation and justification for the presence of Ghuzāh elites in the lands of the Crown of Aragon. These Marīnid princes were rebels (muradā’) against what they saw as the unjust authority of the Marīnids or Naṣrids.40 They understood their service for the Aragonese king as a temporary measure as they struggled to return to power. While a spirit of rebellion explains some cases, it does not explain them all. The Crown of Aragon also recruited its jenets in high-level and sweeping agreements with Granada and all of the kingdoms of North Africa.41 From the beginning, these rulers permitted their soldiers to fight for and live in a Christian kingdom. In other words, the Marīnid Ghuzāh and the Aragonese jenets were sometimes an inversion and at others an extension of one another. Given their ready willingness not only to fight other Muslims but also to fight for Christians, in what sense were the Ghuzāh really holy warriors, mujāhidūn? What did their commitment to jihād mean?
The Skeletonization of Fact
From the beginning of Islamic history, the meaning of jihād has been contested.42 Political leaders, jurists, and soldiers drew upon a variety sources—the Qur’ān, the Ḥadīth (the sayings of Muḥammad), and historical narratives of the early Islamic conquests—and developed competing and contradictory understandings of the term, which ranged from seeing jihād as an inward spiritual struggle to a code of conduct in war. The question of who defined jihād was as fraught as the question of against whom could jihād be directed. Did frontier warriors, jurists, or rulers lead these wars? Was jihād an individual or a collective responsibility? Could Muslims also be legitimate targets of jihād? Such questions highlight the fact that jihād was not a rigid and abstract ideology but rather a terrain of shifting ideals and practices. It cut to the very heart of struggles within in the Islamic world to define the relationship of divine to human authority. More particularly, in the context of thirteenth-century North Africa and al-Andalus, as Abigail Krasner Balbale has argued, jihād was central to the struggle to define and claim authority after the collapse of the Almohad Caliphate.43 Indeed, both the Naṣrids and Marīnids employed the Ghuzāh to assert their power over their Muslim and Christian rivals.
If the Ghuzāh were therefore a normative expression of jihād in this period, then can one say the same of the jenets? Surveying the opinions of Mālikī jurists—that is, jurists from the school of Islamic law that dominated Spain and North Africa in this period—one might quickly conclude that these soldiers’ actions were beyond the boundary. According to the Tunisian jurist Saḥnūn (d. 854), Mālik (d. 796), who founded this school of law, disapproved of Muslims even traveling to non-Muslim territory (dār al-ḥarb).44 Thus, it is not surprising that after the twelfth century, when greater numbers of Muslims found themselves under Christian rule in the Iberian Peninsula, a general consensus emerged among Mālikī scholars that emigration (hijra) was obligatory for all able-bodied Muslims in conquered territory. This was the legal opinion (fatwā) of the highly influential chief muftī (one who is authorized to issue legal opinions) of Fez, Aḥmad b. Yaḥyā al-Wansharīsī (d. 1508).45 Al-Wansharīsī’s al-Mi‘yār al-mu‘rib wa’l-jāmi‘ al-mughrib ‘an fatāwā ‘ulamā’ ahl Ifrīqiya wa’l-Andalus wa’l-Maghrib (The Clear Standard and Extraordinary Collection of the Legal Opinions of the Scholars of North Africa and al-Andalus) was a vast compilation of legal opinions from the year 1000 to around 1491. It was a standard reference work for Mālikī jurists. In this collection, al-Wansharīsi considered it impossible for Mudéjares, subject Muslims, to fulfill the basic requirements of Islam—prayer, alms, fasting, pilgrimage, and jihād—under Christian rule.46 In making this claim, he drew upon the precedents of the Andalusī jurists Ibn Rushd al-Jadd (d. 1126) and Ibn Rabī‘ (d. 1319), which is to say that his position was neither unique nor extreme, as has been occasionally argued.47
Most relevantly, all three of these jurists also spoke with some disdain of Muslim soldiers who served in Christian armies. For instance, in a section entitled, “Refusal of Jihād (Tamannu‘ al-Jihād),” Ibn Rabī‘ explained, “They [Muslim soldiers in Christian armies] boldly embark on the very opposite of it [jihād] (naqīdahu), by supporting their allies (awlīyā’ihum) against the Muslims, either physically or financially (immā bi-l-nufūs immā bi-l-amwāl), and thus, they become at that point hostile combatants (ḥarbiyīn) with the polytheists.”48 In explaining their views on the matter, both al-Wansharīsī and Ibn Rushd al-Jadd cited a legal discussion recorded by the Andalusī jurist al-‘Utbī (d. 869) regarding Muslims who remained in Barcelona after its conquest in 801:
I [Yaḥyā b. Yaḥyā] asked him [Ibn al-Qāsim] about [the case of] a Muslim from Barcelona who failed to move away from them [the Christian conquerors] after the year which had been set [by the Christians as the grace period] for their departure on the day it [the city] was conquered, and then attacked Muslims (aghāra ‘alā al-muslimīn), seeking to protect himself, because he feared being killed if he was defeated [by Muslims retaking the city]. He [Ibn al-Qāsim] said: I do not see his status as any different from that of the criminal or illegitimate rebel (al-muḥārib) who steals from Muslims in Islamic territory (dār al-Islām); this is because he remains within the religion of Islam.49
To these jurists, not only should no Muslim remain in conquered territory, but also those who did and allied themselves with Christians against Muslims had become enemies (ḥarbiyūn) or at best criminal and illegitimate rebels (muḥāribūn), whose lives and property could be legitimately seized.50 Given the circumstances that led some Ghuzāh to move to Christian courts, it should be underscored that al-Wansharīsī considered any rebellion that sought the aid of non-Muslims as illicit.51 In other words, the jenets seemed to have little room to stand on with respect to Islamic law.
Nevertheless, as others have amply demonstrated, these opinions were not fully representative of the Mālikī tradition in particular or Islamic law in general.52 As opposed to legal theory (uṣūl al-fiqh), these opinions were born out of practice and reflected specific social and historical circumstances.53 Rather than blindly enforcing tradition, jurists sought to reconcile precedents with the exigencies of the present.54 In the cases above—of Ibn Rushd al-Jadd, Ibn Rabī‘, and al-Wansharīsī—each scholar wrote in and responded to a particular moment of crisis and territorial contraction: the fall of Toledo, the fall of Murcia, and the Portuguese occupation of North Africa respectively.
Although al-Wansharīsī drew on earlier opinions, he in fact selectively cited and rearranged these arguments to suit his purposes and audience. For instance, he trimmed the words of al-‘Utbī, who qualified his view of Muslim soldiers in Christian armies, by adding: “If he [a Muslim soldier] was forced and commanded to do what he did (yukrih alayhi wa-yūmar bi-hi), and was unable to disobey his commander out of fear for his life, then I do not see that he is an enemy (ḥāriban), or that he should be killed if captured; nor is he punished, if it is clear that he was commanded to do this and feared for his life.”55 Leaders and not regular soldiers, in other words, bore the moral burden. Elsewhere, al-‘Utbī also considered the presence of Christian soldiers in Islamic armies licit under certain circumstances.56 He established rules, for instance, on how to share spoils of war with Christian soldiers.57 If he could permit this relationship within constraints, then could he have permitted the opposite—Muslim soldiers in Christian armies—in another context? Facing a Portuguese occupation, al-Wansharīsī was not interested in making such qualifications or even considering such possibilities.
It should be added, however, that although he appears rather categorical on the matter of Muslims living with Christians and serving in their armies, al-Wansharīsī did nevertheless make room for competing opinions elsewhere. For instance, he cited the opinion of the Mālikī jurist al-Māzarī (d. 1141), who considered it licit for Muslims to enter non-Muslim territory in hopes of guiding (li-rajā’ hidāya) those there or turning them away from error (naqlihim ‘an ḍalāla).58 In short, within the Mālikī school, there was room for debate and discussion. This was not a closed tradition.
Examining views beyond those of the Mālikīs reveals an even wider divergence on the questions of residence in Christian territories and jihād. Facing circumstances similar to the Mālikīs—the expansion of non-Muslims into Muslim territory—Shāfi‘ī and Ḥanafī scholars, which is to say, scholars from two of the other four orthodox schools of Islamic law, responded very differently.59 They held that any territory in which Islamic jurists continued to practice should be considered part of Islamic territory (dār al-Islām).60 And to cite one example relevant to this discussion, the Shāfi‘ī jurist Ibn Ḥajar al-Haytamī (d. 1566) urged Muslims to offer military support to any territory that allowed Islam to be performed fully and openly.61 In other words, he argued that one might correctly fulfill the obligation of jihād by defending a Christian territory. Could such distant opinions have influenced Muslims living in the Iberian Peninsula? As van Koningsveld and Wiegers have shown, Mudéjares did not limit themselves to the advice of Mālikī jurists.62 Some Iberian Muslims traveled as far as Egypt to seek legal opinions, which is to say that in practice, not only jurists but also individuals pursued interpretations of the law to suit their purposes.
In order to make moral determinations, Clifford Geertz argued, the law inevitably leads to “the skeletonization of fact.”63 Jurists must reduce the complexities of the veridical to the clarity of the instrumental.64 Nevertheless, the tension between legal theory and legal practice helps to reveal how contested questions of legitimacy were. When examining the Islamic legal traditions concerned with residence in Christian territories or the performance of jihād, one cannot speak simply and clearly of licit and illicit actions but rather competing norms and sensibilities. Thus, the case of the jenets cannot be summarily dismissed from court. There may be some room for them to stand on.
The treaties between Christian and Islamic rulers, which arranged for the exchange of Christian and Muslim soldiers, are exceptionally relevant in this regard.65 Precisely because these agreements received the approval of Islamic jurists who were trained the Mālikī tradition, they offer yet another perspective on legal practice.66 By regularly insisting that Muslim soldiers could be used only against Christians, these treaties suggest that jurists both responded and offered a creative solution to the repeated prohibition of Muslim soldiers voluntarily serving in Christian armies against other Muslims. These rulers and jurists attempted to accommodate the exchange of soldiers to existing norms and rules. Given these limits upon use, there is no reason to conclude that the jenets’ actions were illegitimate or, so to speak, beyond belief.
Rebels
The case of al-‘Abbās b. Raḥḥū offers us a closer look at the lives of the jenets in the lands of the Crown of Aragon and demonstrates that not only jurists but also soldiers struggled to reconcile their service for a Christian king with their beliefs and with their status as members of al-Ghuzāh al-Mujāhidūn. This final story weaves between Latin, Romance, and Arabic sources in archives and chronicles to reconstruct the history of a powerful Marīnid prince and the soldiers under his command.
A political tumult first swept al-‘Abbās into the lands of the Crown of Aragon. In April 1302, the Naṣrid sultan of Granada, Muḥammad II (r. 1273–1302), died suddenly and left the throne to his son, Muḥammad III (r. 1302–1309)—known to posterity as the Deposed (al-Makhlū‘). Despite a longstanding alliance with the Crown of Aragon, Muḥammad III decided upon his ascension to enter into negotiations with King Fernando IV of Castile (r. 1295–1312) and drifted away from King Jaume II. Fearful of this alliance, Jaume sent an ambassador to the Marīnid sultan Abū Ya‘qūb, promising Aragonese knights and ships for the sultan’s war against the ‘Abd al-Wādids but hoping, through this gesture, to repair their lapsed relationship.67 This series of events produced bafflement among their contemporaries just as it has among modern historians.68
Why did the Naṣrid sultan trade allegiances from the Crown of Aragon to Castile? Upon his ascension to the throne, Muḥammad III, in fact, faced an uprising by the commander of the Ghuzāh. In 1302, Ḥammū b. ‘Abd al-Ḥaqq b. Raḥḥū and other members of the Banū Raḥḥū revolted. They seized the fortress of Bedmar near Jaén and declared themselves independent of the new sultan. When Fernando’s ambassadors arrived at Muḥammad’s court in 1303, they offered to aid in the conquest of Bedmar; in other words, to protect Muḥammad from the rebellious Ghuzāh.69 Muḥammad’s decision to accept Castilian rather than Aragonese assistance at this moment only makes sense in light of the overlooked connection between the Marīnid Ghuzāh and the Aragonese jenets. Of course, neither the Aragonese, for whom this alliance threatened control of the Mediterranean straits, nor the members of the Banū Raḥḥū welcomed the alliance between Castile and Granada.
Events began to converge towards a new confrontation, a new crisis. As early as September 1303, Muḥammad complained to Jaume that Aragonese jenets were raiding Granadan and Castilian territory.70 In the same month, Jaume’s ambassador departed once again for the Marīnid court, from which he requested and eventually secured the transfer of another one to two thousand jenets specifically for use against Castile.71 Perhaps most tellingly, Bernat Sarria, an Aragonese ambassador, reported through a Muslim agent in Granada that some noblemen and knights (alguns rics homens e cavalers) were so displeased with Muḥammad’s recent alliance that they were willing to join the Crown against Castile.72 In other words, the Crown of Aragon had become a refuge for Muslim soldiers, not (or not merely) seeking profit but rather hoping to continue to fight against the sultan of Granada and the king of Castile. It was this climate of rebellion that motivated al-‘Abbās b. Raḥḥū—who was an uncle of Ḥammū and had also been held prisoner in Almería for his attempts to thwart a Granadan alliance with Castile—along with a handful of other prominent members of the Banū Raḥḥū to cross into the service of the Crown of Aragon.73 An Aragonese royal official reported to King Jaume: “Believe, my lord, that from what he says, al-‘Abbās and the others want to serve us and in this they are worth more than all other armed knights (quens hic valen mes que no farien atretans cavayls armats), and know, my lord, that throughout the frontier, your enemies tremble and have great fear of them.”74
Mutual Exception
On December 22, 1303, al-‘Abbās signed a contract for service and presented it to King Jaume II.75 He swore allegiance to the king on behalf not only of the other members of the Banū Raḥḥū in his entourage but also of all the jenets and corporals (cabos) of the jenets in Valencia and Murcia, suggesting that al-‘Abbās was now commander of these Muslim troops in the lands of the Crown of Aragon. Al-‘Abbās agreed to place hostages (rahenes) in the king’s charge in return for three Murcian castles—Negra, Lorquí, and Ceutí—which he would hold as a vassal of the king and from which he would collect income (map 5).76 Al-‘Abbās also agreed to seek permission from the king or his royal procurator before leaving the Crown’s service. Finally and most significantly, he promised to support the Aragonese king against all his enemies whether Christian or Muslim (si quiere Christianos si quiere Moros) and more particularly, against the kings of Granada and Castile, with whom the Banū Raḥḥū were in dispute. But in this final regard—his willingness to attack other Muslims—al-‘Abbās’ terms of service were all but unique.77 Al-‘Abbās appeared to place no limits on his service. He, the other members of the Banū Raḥḥū, and a handful of other Ghuzāh leaders in their company sealed this commitment by swearing on the Qur’ān: “And we swear in the presence of you, Lord King, by the Qur’ān that everything above will be held and completed by us in good faith and without trickery.”78
5. The Aragonese-Granadan frontier (1304). Courtesy Dick Gilbreath, Gyula Pauer Center for Cartography and GIS, University of Kentucky.
At the same moment al-‘Abbās presented Jaume with this agreement, the Aragonese king signed and returned his own, which offers an opportunity to see this alliance from the other perspective.79 Jaume promised to inform all his officials of al-‘Abbās’ new service as well as to establish the jenet as his vassal in the aforementioned castles. He promised al-‘Abbās and his troops ample food supplies.80 The jenets were guaranteed freedom of movement, except travel into enemy territory. They were allowed to keep the king’s quinta from all spoils as well as what was owed to the Crown by any Christian soldiers who raided in their company.81 The king also promised them the freedom to leave his service whenever they wished, an understanding slightly inconsistent with al-‘Abbās’. Nevertheless, to this point, Jaume’s terms seemed to be the same that he had offered other jenets.
Three final stipulations, however, throw their relationship into sharper relief. Rather than a moment of good faith and agreement, these terms expose a deep-seated mistrust at the heart of this contract. First, Jaume insisted that al-‘Abbās neither allow other jenets to enter his kingdoms nor hire new soldiers without the consent of the Crown. In short, he charged these jenets with policing the frontier and preventing raids from Granada.82 However paradoxical it may seem, Jaume’s use of these soldiers as border guards perfectly expresses their intertwined history: the service of the jenets for the Crown of Aragon only confirmed and achieved their exclusion from its communities. These boundary-crossers were also boundary-makers.
Second, Jaume consented that the jenets could retain any land or castles that they seized from the king of Granada, a fact that casts a different light on al-‘Abbās’ motivations and his willingness to attack Granada. Any raids into Muslim territory would ultimately benefit the Ghuzāh under the command of the Banū Raḥḥū and not the Crown. Thus, the strategic alliance against Granada did have its qualifications. Al-‘Abbās was not a servant of the king but rather served his own interests and those of the Ghuzāh who were loyal to the Banū Raḥḥū.
Finally and most curiously, the Crown requested that on raids against Christians, the jenets neither capture nor kill women because “it is not our custom (no es costumpne nuestra).”83 The specter of jenets’ taking Christians captive—more particularly, Christian women—one that was raised over and over in the circulating Miraculos romanzados of Pero Marín, brought to the surface an acute need for boundaries—even for the Aragonese king. In Jaume’s language, the jenets possessed a dangerous alterity. Thus, far from inviting community and shared interest, this alliance seemed deeply concerned with inscribing difference. These negotiations underscore the very complexity and instability of the bond that tied the jenets to the Crown of Aragon. The alliance between the Crown of Aragon and the jenets was fragile and grounded in a sense of mutual exception.
Conspirators
Although in theory the strategic aims of al-‘Abbās’ jenets and the Crown coincided well, in practice problems quickly mounted. While Jaume still hoped to avoid or delay an open confrontation with Granada, to maintain a semblance of peace, al-‘Abbās and his troops were less restrained. In January 1304, Jaume received a complaint from Muḥammad III that al-‘Abbās and his troops had attacked a Granadan ambassador near Guadix.84 A month later, Jaume wrote to al-‘Abbās to deal with yet another complaint.85 While praising the jenet for his service, Jaume explained that on a recent raid into the region of Cuenca, in Castile, al-‘Abbās’ soldiers had seized goods and captives from villages under the protection of Don Juan Manuel, who was, in fact, an ally of the Crown.86 Given that alliance, the king ordered al-‘Abbās to return the goods and captives. Jaume also informed the jenet captain that the Crown had signed a temporary truce with Castile, a truce that would ultimately lead to the Treaty of Agreda.87 For his part, al-‘Abbās wrote back not only to contest the charges against him but also to complain of mistreatment.88 He claimed that as his jenets returned from Castile, the local governor of Jarafuel (in Valencia) sent robbers in the middle of the night, who made off with their sheep and cows. At Játiva, where the jenets hoped to sell their remaining spoils, the residents sealed the town gates and armed themselves against the Muslim soldiers. The food supplies that were promised to al-‘Abbās and his soldiers by the Crown, moreover, were also never delivered.89 Separately, al-‘Abbās would also write to the king to complain that villagers on the lands that he held as a vassal refused to pay their rents.90 Thus, as in the case of Mahomet Abenadalil, Christian administrators and villagers continued to treat the jenets as enemies and outsiders. Despite these setbacks, the agreement between the king and the jenet commander remained intact. Jaume issued new orders to have supplies delivered to al-‘Abbās and his troops. They were ultimately delivered in April.91 Foreseeing war with Granada, Jaume also sent an ambassador along with a messenger from al-‘Abbās to Fez to seek approval for the jenets’ continued service.92 Abū Ya‘qūb responded with appreciation for the good treatment his soldiers had received from the Aragonese king.93 And al-‘Abbās consequently wrote to Jaume, agreeing to cease attacks against Castile and “obey [the king’s] command in all matters.”94
Private dispatches among the royal letters, however, reveal that the seeming good will between these parties masked a great deal. Bertran de Canelles, the procurator of Valencia, wrote to inform the bailiff of Valencia and the king that despite making several requests, he had failed to convince al-‘Abbās to return the goods belonging to Don Juan Manuel.95 To Canelles, however, the jenet commander’s refusal did not reflect greed but rather defiance of the king. Al-‘Abbās had not sold these goods and seemed to have no intention to do so. Moreover, Bertran reported that al-‘Abbās’ attitude had grown increasingly bad, particularly after receiving news of the king’s truce (la carta dels Seynor Rey de la treva) with Castile.96 And even more startlingly, Bertran reported that three jenets, bearing letters from the king of Granada, had visited with al-‘Abbās, which was a cause for great celebration (fort alegrats) among his soldiers. Thus, Bertran requested that Templar knights be sent to the kingdom for its protection. Seeing the jenets’ lack of loyalty to the Crown, Bertran warned the king that al-‘Abbās and his men were “the worst and the most evil men in the world (la pigor gent e la pus avol del mon).”
In a separate letter to the king, Bernat de Libia, the bailiff of Valencia, also reported that the situation in the kingdom had grown worse and potentially dire.97 Every day, he wrote, al-‘Abbās met with Valencian Mudéjares, who were pleased to see him. He had also heard rumors that after meeting the jenet commander, some of these subject Muslims sold their possessions and made preparations to leave the kingdom. Had the jenets convinced the Mudéjares that it was their duty to emigrate? Bernat also warned that since al-‘Abbās’ arrival, Muslim preachers (moradins) in Valencia had become more outspoken. “For certain,” he added, “to my understanding and that of others who know the Moors, they would not behave like this unless they were going to rise up like the other time [i.e., the revolt of al-Azraq].”98 This notice suggests coordination or collaboration rather than tension between the jenets and Mudéjar preachers. It gives a glimpse of the support that local religious leaders had for the jenets, something that legal sources from North Africa masked. In other words, in this case, the Mudéjares saw the jenets not as agents of the Crown or traitors but rather as their protectors. Bernat explained finally that he had spoken with al-‘Abbās extensively and that the jenet captain swore that he remained loyal to the Crown of Aragon but that many of his soldiers said that “they would do no harm to the king of Granada (que ells no farien mal al Rey de Granada).”
Thus, not only had the changing political climate affected al-‘Abbās and his troops but also the presence of the jenets had had a profound influence on the Mudéjar population. Nevertheless, Jaume’s response to the claims that the jenets were a threat was as equivocal as that of his predecessors. On the one hand, he ordered the arrest of a Muslim preacher by the name of Alhaig (al-Ḥājj), “the pilgrim,” for incitement.99 He also commanded the Templars to enter Játiva for its protection.100 On the other hand, he ignored al-‘Abbās’ conspiratorial behavior and passed over complaints that the jenets would not support the Crown against Granada in the coming war.
The Limit of Loyalty
The situation, however, could not hold. After several raids from Muslim Granada and pressure from the Templars, Jaume was forced to authorize reprisals, new attacks against Granada.101 It was in this context that in May 1304, the Templar knight Berenguer de Cardona issued a report on a five-day raiding mission that the Christian Templars conducted alongside the Muslim jenets into the Granadan marchland. Berenguer’s account, which is preserved among the king’s letters in the Archive of the Crown of Aragon, not only offers a detailed look into raiding but also self-consciously addresses the issue of the jenets’ loyalty to the Aragonese king.102 Would the jenets still fight against Granada?
On Thursday, May 15, the knights left Lorca, on the Granadan border of the kingdom of Murcia, in the company of al-‘Abbās as well as his cavalry, totaling in all 1,500 foot soldiers and 300 horsemen. They traveled night and day until they arrived at Zurgena (Sugena), near Almería, along the Almanzora River (map 5). Here, they “pillaged all the fields and did great damage (e aqui talam tota lorta e fem hi gran dan).” After Zurgena, the army turned towards Vera, along the coast of Almería. Near the hill of Nabez they were met by a messenger, who informed them that 350 horsemen from the cavalry of Vera were approaching. Al-‘Abbās’ jenets charged (algareyan) these troops, engaging them close to Vera, killing 13 horsemen and 30 foot soldiers and sending the rest into retreat within the city walls. The Templars and jenets consequently laid waste to the surrounding area, seizing all horses and burning the harvested wheat (cremam tot lo blat que havien cullit), and finally forced their way through the city gates of Vera. They turned next to Cuevas de Almanzora (Les Coves), where again they laid waste to its fields and spent the night. On the following day, Sunday, they moved on to Purchena (Porxena), burning mills and fields again. Their raid, however, took a turn for the worse as the soldiers laid siege to the castle of Huercal. Having surrounded the castle and set fire beneath its gates such that the men of Huercal could do nothing to defend themselves save throw stones (haviem mes foch a les portes del Castell e aportatz los homens del Castell a aço [que] no podien als fer sino que gitaven pedres orbes), the soldiers received a notice that the cavalry of the “King of Granada” was approaching. Deciding to abandon their siege, they gathered their horsemen, pack mules, and soldiers and turned to face the Granadan jenets (los genetz). Two hundred of al-‘Abbās’ men immediately charged (algareyan) and exchanged heavy blows with the Granadan cavalry (e aqui donaren se los uns abs los altres de grans colps). For their part, the Templars dispatched several armed horsemen and ordered their crossbowmen to discharge a volley of bolts. “Through the mercy of Our Lord,” Berenguer added, the Templars and jenets killed a hundred of the Granadan soldiers and pressed the rest into retreat within the castle of Huercal. The Templars suffered the loss of one foot soldier, and al-‘Abbās, of four to six men. All the soldiers returned to Lorca the following day. Two days later, on account of the honor and profit gained by the Temple through this mission (e los profit e la honor del Temple per aquesta raho vos scrivim aquestes novelles), Berenguer de Cardona addressed this report to Bertran de Canelles, the very same man who had called al-‘Abbās and his jenets the worst men in the world.
Berenguer’s report is striking not only for its substance but also for its import. In the former respect, it provides unparalleled detail. Here, one witnesses the quintessential border raid, the primary aim of which was to plunder and create chaos rather than conquer: the soldiers ransacked and burned mills, fields, and towns; they operated in a small, light company with several scouts but nevertheless engaged in the siege of a castle. The military skill of the jenets, moreover, was manifest. Al-‘Abbās’ cavalry served as a frontline, and consequently suffered the only significant losses. By contrast, the heavily armed Knights of the Temple lagged behind with only a few horsemen capable of keeping pace with the jenets. Perhaps more striking than this wealth of detail is the document’s import. First, the Templars, whom one readily associates with crusading, were riding alongside Muslim soldiers into Muslim territory, a fact that deepens the extent of Christian-Muslim military collaboration in this period.103 Second, among the hundreds of documents involving jenets, this is the only surviving record of Aragonese jenets fighting Ghuzāh soldiers from Granada.104 Despite the fact that al-‘Abbās’ jenets had refused to attack Granada when speaking with Bernat de Libia, it now appears that they underwent some change of heart.
In sharp contrast to the royal administrators, Berenguer de Cardona, who penned this report, appeared confident of al-‘Abbās’ loyalty to the Crown: “My Lord [Jaume II], know that al-‘Abbās acted well and faithfully in this raid, and we saw and know that he desires to serve loyally. . . . It should be certain to you, Lord, that he is essential to you in this kingdom [Murcia].”105 The Templars, it should be added, had strongly advocated a full invasion of Granada.106 And to the degree that al-‘Abbās’ presence furthered that end, in Berenguer’s eyes, this collaboration between Templars and jenets could convey “profit and honor.” While perhaps only rhetorical in intent, Berenguer unflinchingly invoked “the mercy of Our Lord” in the victory over the Granadan cavalry.
In an equally enthusiastic tone, Jaume wrote letters to congratulate both Berenguer and al-‘Abbās on their victory “by the grace and mercy of God” and to praise them for their service and fidelity.107 He urged them both to continue to defend his territory against its enemies. The king also acknowledged the losses that al-‘Abbās suffered during these battles and promised that further supplies would be sent to the jenets.
Did al-‘Abbās and his troops share the attitude that the raid was a matter of shared profit and honor? Did they see their actions as a legitimate? The consequences of the May raid must have troubled the jenets. Almost immediately, Granada launched a devastating sea attack on Valencia, causing panic throughout the kingdom.108 As before, the threat of a Muslim invasion had a direct and negative effect on the Mudéjar population. In June, Jaume wrote to Bernat de Libia, the royal bailiff of Valencia—who earlier had feared a Mudéjar uprising. On this occasion, the king ordered his bailiff to protect the Muslim population from local attacks and to reassure the Mudéjares that they would not be punished for any conspiracies (per raho daquels parlamens que avien hauts) that they had with al-‘Abbās. In offering this forgiveness, Jaume was hoping to divide the Mudéjares and the jenets and to defuse the potential for rebellion.109 In order to further appease the Mudéjares, Jaume ordered the release of Alhaig, the preacher he had earlier imprisoned for incitement.110 For his part, al-‘Abbās also worked to relieve the tension. He offered to free a Muslim captive that he had taken from Granada, presumably a valuable one, in exchange for 220 or more Christians recently seized by the Granadan army.111 Peace with Granada, however, could not be restored.112 Aragonese reinforcements arrived at the Valencian frontier in preparation to meet another massive Granadan assault. Al-‘Abbās’ raid alongside the Templars, in other words, became an excuse for violence between Muslims and Christians on every level. Collaboration produced divisive results.
With open war on the horizon, Jaume’s alliance with al-‘Abbās collapsed. In July, the procurator of Murcia, Pere de Montegut, who gathered al-‘Abbās’ hostages earlier, wrote to Jaume II.113 He informed the king that the Marīnid ruler, Abū Ya‘qūb, had sent messengers to al-‘Abbās, ordering him and his soldiers to return to Fez immediately.114 In spite of their strident independence, the Ghuzāh remained under the authority of the Marīnid ruler. The Marīnid sultan asked Montegut to retake possession of al-‘Abbās’ castles in Murcia and return his hostages, while al-‘Abbās would take his soldiers to Algeciras, where ships would be waiting. Upon receiving these instructions, al-‘Abbās immediately came with his troops “en semble” to seek Montegut’s advice. Montegut counseled the soldiers to go to the Aragonese king before taking a decision, advice consistent with the jenets’ contract. Al-‘Abbās replied that “he [al-‘Abbās] knew what was in his heart (ell se lo avia a coraçon).” Montegut continued, “The next day he [al-‘Abbās] returned and said . . . that nothing would make him go to you [King Jaume II], that his nephews and sons and other soldiers wanted to leave and nothing in the world would make them wait (Otro dia torno a nos, et dixo nos que ell por ren del mundo no poria ir a vos, que los sobrinos et sus fijos et la otra cavalleria se le querian hir se carrera et que por ren del mundo no lo atendrian).” With these lines, one finally strikes bedrock. Al-‘Abbās’ jenets rejected the possibility of continuing their service to the Crown of Aragon. In these circumstances, no stipend or salary could justify their remaining in Jaume’s employ. Although these soldiers were in open rebellion against Granada and had come into the lands of the Crown of Aragon of their own accord, they now invoked the same boundaries found in the sweeping treaties approved by Islamic jurists. They would not support a Christian king who threatened Granada. Their loyalty had its limits. Thus, Montegut consented to discharge al-‘Abbās on the king’s behalf, take possession of his lands, and return his hostages. Just seven months after entering the king’s service, al-‘Abbās and the other members of the Banū Raḥḥū departed for North Africa.
A month later, the Crown of Aragon and Castile signed the Treaty of Agreda, by which they agreed to divide Murcia between them and prepare a joint crusade against Almería. And what followed leaves little doubt as to the motivation behind the jenets’ sudden departure. In September 1304, Ghuzāh cavalry under the command of none other than al-‘Abbās b. Raḥḥū attacked Murcia and Valencia.115 Berenguer de Cardona and his Templar Knights were called to defend the kingdom from their former comrades.116 The invasion of the Ghuzāh had precisely the result that Bernat de Libia, the bailiff of Valencia, had feared the most: the Mudéjares rose up in large numbers to join the Ghuzāh.117 But the uprising failed.118 In some regions, entire Mudéjar villages were forced to retreat alongside these cavalrymen, abandoning their possessions.119 Other Mudéjares, including the young and the old, were imprisoned for their treasonous collaboration.120 Nevertheless, al-‘Abbās remained a staunch enemy of the Crown of Aragon and the subject of anxious royal correspondence for years to come.121 In 1309, during the crusade against Almería, the Marīnid prince and his soldiers fought valiantly and repelled the Aragonese and Castilian armies from Granadan lands.122 One of the worst men in the world, a seemingly faithless mercenary, had become a new al-Azraq and a champion of Islam.
Coda
Al-‘Abbās’ story did not end there. The fortunes of the Banū Raḥḥū in Granada were about to change. When in 1314 Ismā‘īl I seized the Naṣrid throne with support of the Banū Abī al-‘Ulā, the deposed sultan, Naṣr, fled to Guadix in the company of his protector, the Ghuzāh commander Ḥammū b. ‘Abd al-Ḥaqq b. Raḥḥū.123 During battles in which Ghuzāh soldiers loyal to Ismā‘īl fought Ghuzāh soldiers loyal to Naṣr, Ḥammū was captured and brought to Granada as a prisoner. At the Granadan court, Ibn Khaldūn reported, Ḥammū’s uncle, none other than al-‘Abbās b. Raḥḥū, pleaded for clemency for his nephew.124 Ismā‘īl begrudgingly agreed, and Ḥammū immediately fled to the safety of Christian territory.125 For his part, Ibn Khaldūn said nothing more about al-‘Abbās. Our villain or hero, depending on your perspective, disappeared from the Arabic record. But Romance letters lying in the Archive of the Crown of Aragon reveal that his history held one more chapter. In March 1317, Naṣr wrote the procurator of Valencia, indicating his willingness to send troops to support Jaume’s war against Ismā‘īl.126 And indeed, a month later, despite having invaded the lands of the Aragonese king a few years earlier, despite the deep mistrust they had for each other, al-‘Abbās sent a messenger with a letter to King Jaume II offering his service once again. “Beloved al-‘Abbās,” Jaume responded, “we are ready and willing to have you in our service and prepared to offer you every honor that you deserve.”127 The curious collaboration of the Aragonese kings with the Muslim jenets continued.