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The ransom of high-ranking captives, tributary relationships and the practice of diplomacy in northern Syria 442-522/1050-1128

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  20 December 2021

JAMES WILSON*
Affiliation:
Queen Mary, University of London jamesdavidwilson1990@gmail.com
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Abstract

This article examines how the introduction of western European crusaders and settlers to northern Syria from 490/1097 onwards impacted upon two important mechanisms of regional diplomacy; the ransom of prominent political prisoners and tributary relationships. Discussion begins with a comparison of the capture and ransom of high-ranking captives in northern Syria between 442-522/1050-1128, where it is argued that the establishment of the crusader states led to an increase in both the rate at which prisoners of elite status were ransomed and the financial sums involved in these interactions. This is followed by a reassessment of the various peace treaties, tributary arrangements and condominia or munāṣafa agreements concluded between the rulers of Antioch and Aleppo during the late fifth/eleventh and early sixth/twelfth centuries. Ultimately, this article seeks to place key features of northern Syrian diplomacy from the early crusading period within the context of regional norms in the decades preceding the crusaders’ arrival.

Type
Research Article
Copyright
Copyright © The Author(s), 2021. Published by Cambridge University Press on behalf of The Royal Asiatic Society

A diplomatic messenger (rasūl) sent by the Byzantine Emperor Michael VII (d. 470/1078) arrived at the ʿAbbāsid court in Baghdad during the early summer of 466/1074. The Byzantine emissary, who was accompanied by a representative of the Marwānid ruler of Mayafariqin, carried two messages, one each for the Caliph al-Qāʾim (d. 467/1075) and his Vizier. The messages were reportedly written in Syriac with golden ink, supplemented by an Arabic translation, outlining Constantinople's terms for a new peace treaty (hudna) with the Seljūq Sultan Malik Shāh (d. 485/1092).Footnote 1

This embassy consisted of a plenipotentiary in the service of a Greek-speaking Christian faction accompanied by an envoy from a Mesopotamian Kurdish dynasty, visiting the Sunnī Muslim ʿAbbāsid court, where Arabic and Persian were the dominant languages, with a message written primarily in Syriac.Footnote 2 Although the unnamed Byzantine envoy's mission was seemingly unsuccessful, the embassy itself is illustrative of the complex multi-lingual, cross-cultural nature of diplomatic interactions in the medieval near east, and their potential to obscure the religious delimitations that are generally presented as the key drivers of conflict.

Few regions or periods offer a more compelling political environment for the study of medieval diplomacy than northern Syria during the late fifth/eleventh and early sixth/twelfth centuries. Between 442-522/1050-1128 the region endured a string of military incursions from the east and west by the nomadic Seljūq Turks and European crusaders and settlers, further complicating the power dynamics in a frontier zone bordering Mesopotamia, Byzantium, Fāṭimid Egypt and eastern Anatolia. These developments precipitated a fluid political situation in Syria, evidenced by a succession of conflicts, contacts and alliances that bridged deep cultural, ethnic and ideological boundaries.

There is a broad range of detailed historical research covering this turbulent period of Syrian history from the Byzantine, Armenian, Seljūq, Fāṭimid and crusader perspectives.Footnote 3 However, with the exception of the seminal work of Cahen and the research of El-Azhari, very few studies focus explicitly on northern Syria during this timeframe. There is also a branch of historiography dedicated to the various diplomatic interactions between the Franks and their Muslim neighbours during the crusading period by Köhler, Dajani-Shakeel, Elisséeff, Friedman, Frenkel and Asbridge.Footnote 4 Köhler's work is particularly relevant to this article, as it demonstrated the importance of the development of what he labelled “des systems syrischer Staatswesen” or “the Syrian system of autonomous lordships” during the late fifth/eleventh century to the underlying political dynamics of the early sixth/twelfth century.

This article seeks to provide a nuanced understanding of how the arrival of western European crusaders and settlers impacted upon features of diplomatic interactions among northern Syrian political elites between 442-522/1050-1128. Focus will initially be placed on the ransom of high-ranking captives, examining whether the introduction of Frankish rulers altered how Syrian potentates sought to derive political and financial benefit from prominent prisoners.Footnote 5 Discussion will then move on to peace treaties and tributary relationships, where it will be asserted that aside from condominia or munāṣafa agreements, the Franks adopted many existing regional precedents from the pre-crusading period. The novelty and significance of the tributary relationship established between Antioch and Aleppo in the early sixth/twelfth century will also be called into question. Throughout this article, attempts will be made to place features of diplomatic interactions in northern Syria during the early crusading period within the context of regional norms from the decades preceding the crusaders’ arrival.

The ransom of high-ranking captives

The ransom or fidaʾ of prominent political prisoners and captives provides a useful framework through which to analyse the complexities of diplomatic contacts in northern Syria during the latter half of the fifth/eleventh and early sixth/twelfth centuries.Footnote 6 During this period, there were numerous examples of high-ranking military and political figures from various ethno-cultural backgrounds being imprisoned whilst their captors sought to exploit the situation for political and pecuniary gain.Footnote 7 The following part of the article will assert that the arrival of Frankish rulers in the region had a discernible impact upon regional practices relating to the capture and ransom of high-profile captives.

Table 1. Examples of the capture and ransom of prominent political and military prisoners and hostages in Syria 442-522/1050-1128

Much of the extant historiography on the treatment of captives has focused on the Byzantine and crusading periods.Footnote 8 Friedman wrote the definitive work on the process of captivity and ransom in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, placing her research within the wider context of Byzantine prisoner exchanges with Muslim rulers during the third/ninth and fourth/tenth centuries, emphasising the importance placed on the exchange and ransom of captives in the medieval Islamic world in the centuries prior to the First Crusade.Footnote 9 Hillenbrand has provided a detailed overview of the practice of Muslim rulers taking Frankish prisoners during the crusading period and the conditions in which prisoners from both the higher and lower-ranks of political society were detained.Footnote 10 Hillenbrand has also conducted a detailed analysis of the reports concerning the brutal killing of Gervase of Tiberias (d. 501/1107-08) by Ṭughtegīn of Damascus (d. 522/1128), arguing that the surviving accounts of this incident are evidence of the survival of pre-Islamic Steppe traditions in sixth/twelfth century Seljūq Syria.Footnote 11 Additionally, Asbridge has examined the events surrounding the ransom and release of Baldwin II (r. 512-25/1118-31) of Jerusalem in 518/1124.Footnote 12

The vast majority of the extant historiography has therefore focused on interactions between Byzantine and Frankish rulers and their Muslim rivals. Consequently, questions relating to how the arrival of the Franks in the Levant impacted upon the treatment of high-ranking captives by Arab and Seljūq potentates in the decades preceding 490/1097, or whether Muslim rulers captured or ransomed Muslim prisoners, have generally been overlooked. Discussion begins with an overview of late fifth/eleventh century precedents involving the capture and ransom of political and military captives in northern Syria, before analysing similar interactions from the early sixth/twelfth century. The final part focuses upon the killing of high-profile captives and the influence that the presence of Türkmen groups had upon the ransom of prisoners.

Political and military captives in late fifth/eleventh century Syria

In northern Syria during the late fifth/eleventh century, there were occasions when Byzantine, Fāṭimid, Seljūq and local Syrian-based rulers were taken captive for political reasons, but they were seldom ransomed for financial reward. On the rare occasions that ransom payments were made for prisoners of elite status, the figures quoted were typically lower than those demanded for Frankish captives in the early sixth/twelfth century.

The zenith of the conflict between Byzantine and “Arab” Muslim groups in Anatolia and Syria occurred during the course of the third/ninth and fourth/tenth centuries. Correspondingly, the third/ninth and fourth/tenth centuries saw a comparatively higher number of recorded prisoner exchanges, the ransoming of individuals or groups of people for financial and strategic gain and the widespread sale of captives into slavery.Footnote 13 Many of the references to monetary payments being made for the release of captives in northern Syria and its environs during the decades prior to the First Crusade occurred during the struggle for Asia Minor between the Byzantine Empire and Anatolian Seljūq or Türkmen rulers. The most conspicuous example involved the Byzantine Emperor Romanos Diogenes IV (r. 460-3/1068-71), who following defeat to the armies of Seljūq Sultan Alp Arslān (r. 455-64/1063-72) at the battle of Manzikert in 463/1071, was reportedly ransomed for the enormous figure of 1,500,000 dīnārs as part of a wider peace treaty (hudna) between the Great Seljūq Sultanate and the Byzantine Empire.Footnote 14 Romanos Diogenes IV died before he was able to repay anywhere near the agreed upon sum.

The four years following Manzikert saw Alexios Komenenos, who later became the Emperor Alexios Komnenos I (r. 473-512/1081-1118), and the inhabitants of Antioch, pay ransoms to Türkmen rulers on two occasions. The first involved Alexios’ younger brother Isaac Komnenos (d. 495-7/1102-04) in 467/1075, and the second for Roussel de Bailliol (d. 469/1077), the leader of a group of Norman mercenaries who had entered into rebellion against the Byzantine Emperor.Footnote 15 A similar episode was recorded by the chronicler Ibn al-Athīr (d. 630/1233), who claimed that the Georgian Prince Liaprit, a key Byzantine ally captured by Seljūq forces in 439/1048, was released by the Sultan Ṭughrīl Beg (r. 428-55/1037-63) following a request from the Byzantine Emperor Constantine IX Monomachus (r. 433-46/1042-55). Constantine IX Monomachus subsequently sent a series of lavish gifts to the sultan as a sign of gratitude.Footnote 16

Additionally, hostages were an important diplomatic mechanism for the maintenance and expansion of Byzantine influence in Syria during this period. Simeonova and Beihammer have shown how the fourth/tenth and fifth/eleventh centuries saw the ruling hierarchy in Constantinople forge alliances with “Arab” Muslim rulers in Syria and Mesopotamia through the bestowal of Byzantine titles and the acceptance of hostages.Footnote 17 As part of this process, Syrian potentates were encouraged to send family members to the Byzantine court as hostages of the Emperor. The first Mirdāsid ruler of Aleppo, Ṣāliḥ b. Mirdās (d. 420/1029), sent his son to Constantinople as a gesture of loyalty to the Byzantine Emperor in 406/1014-15.Footnote 18 This practice seemingly survived until the mid-fifth/eleventh century, as Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī claimed that the Mirdāsid ruler of Aleppo, Maḥmūd b. Naṣr (d. 468/1074-5), gave his son to the Byzantines as a “hostage” (rahīna) in exchange for financial backing in the late 450 s/mid 1060 s. Supposedly, Maḥmūd wrote to the Fāṭimid Caliph al-Mustanṣir explaining that this situation prevented him from following Cairo's orders to attack Byzantine territory.Footnote 19 Despite Mirdāsid rulers engaging in various military conflicts against Byzantine forces in northern Syria from 454/1062 onwards, the brief accounts of these encounters do not refer to the capture or ransom of prisoners of war.Footnote 20

Aside from these interactions with the Mirdāsids of Aleppo, the only other reference to a prominent political figure coming under Byzantine control occurred in 446/1054 when the Fāṭimid commander Ibn Mulhim (d. unknown) was captured whilst raiding Byzantine territory near the northern Syrian settlements of Latakia and Apamea.Footnote 21 According to al-Maqrīzī (d. 845/1442), negotiations between Cairo and Constantinople for a new peace treaty took place between 446-7/1054-5, and involved discussion of the exchange of all Muslim and Christian prisoners of war held by both parties, but the talks ultimately failed.Footnote 22 Although no details are provided in the source material, Ibn Mulhim's release was presumably negotiated between Cairo and Constantinople during this period, as he became the Fāṭimid ruler of Aleppo in 450/1058.Footnote 23 Seemingly with the exception of conflicts with Seljūq and Türkmen groups in Anatolia, political captives and hostages were mostly used for diplomatic reasons during interactions involving the Byzantines during this period.

Correspondingly, references to the ransom of Fāṭimid prisoners of war by the political elite of northern Syria during the late fifth/eleventh century are relatively scarce. Both failed Egyptian attempts to retake Aleppo in 440/1048 and 441/1049 occurred without the sources referring to Fāṭimid captives.Footnote 24 Accounts of the Mirdāsid victory at al-Funaydiq in 452/1060 do note that in the aftermath of the battle many of the Fāṭimid commanding officers were taken captive, including the governor of Damascus Nāṣir al-Dawla al-Ḥamdānī (d. 465/1073). According to Ibn al-ʿAdīm's account, Maḥmūd b. Naṣr “purchased” (ishtarāhu) Nāṣir al-Dawla after the battle from one his Bedouin allies in the Banū Kilāb for the strikingly small sum of 2,700 dīnārs, valuing the Fāṭimid governor of Damascus at a fraction of the figures paid for comparably prominent Frankish and Byzantine captives in Anatolia and Syria during the subsequent decades. Shortly afterwards, Maḥmūd returned Nāṣir al-Dawla, along with the other Fāṭimid military captives, to Egypt as part of the reconciliation process between the Mirdāsids of Aleppo and the caliph's court in Cairo.Footnote 25 The defeat at al-Funaydiq marked the end point of large scale Fāṭimid military campaigns into northern Syria.Footnote 26

The only other instance of prominent Fāṭimid captives coming under the control of Levantine based rulers occurred when the family of the Egyptian Vizier Badr al-Jamālī came into the possession of a Türkmen ruler named Shuklī (d. 467/1074), following the Fāṭimid loss of Acre to Shuklī's forces in Rabīʾa I 467/October 1074. According to Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī's account, Shuklī refused an offer from another Türkmen ruler and potential ally, Atsiz b. Uwaq al-Khwārizmī (d. 471/1078), to arrange a ransom with Cairo for Badr al-Jamālī's family. Shuklī instead elected to enter into an alliance with the Fāṭimids against Atsiz, and died in the subsequent battle. Although Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī did not provide any further details about the fate of Badr al-Jamālī's family, it seems probable that Shuklī released them in order to facilitate this military collaboration with the Fāṭimids.Footnote 27 In the few instances where Fāṭimid military figures were taken captive in Syria, they were typically released for political or diplomatic reasons, without their captors demanding financial remuneration.

There was also a series of conflicts between rival Seljūq military rulers in northern Syria in the 30 years prior to the First Crusade. However, despite the frequency with which battles between Seljūq amīrs occurred in late fifth/eleventh century northern Syria, there were few reported incidents of the capture or ransom of Seljūq prisoners. This can be partly attributed to the high casualty rates among military commanders of Turkish and Arab descent in the course of intra-Seljūq struggles during this period. For instance, the ʿUqaylid ruler of Aleppo, Sharaf al-Dawla Muslim b. Quraysh (d. 478/1085) was killed on a battlefield near the river ʿAfrīn in 478/1085-6.Footnote 28 The following year saw Sulaymān b. Qutlumush (d. 479/1086) killed in battle in 479/1086, whilst Tutush b. Alp Arslān (d. 488/1095) died outside Rayy in Iran whilst contesting control of the Sultanate with his nephew Berkyaruq (d. 498/1105) in 488/1095.Footnote 29 The high death rate among high ranking Turkish amīrs was a feature of the Seljūq political system, where internal disputes were often settled through armed conflict and military leaders, who's leadership credentials were dependent upon their martial abilities, regularly fought on the frontlines.Footnote 30

Even on the rare occasions that Seljūq political rulers survived skirmishes or battles, they seemingly failed to retain much political or financial value as prisoners. One such example involved the killing of the Türkmen ruler of Damascus, Atsiz b. Uwaq al-Khwārizmī by Tutush b. Alp Arslān in 471/1078. Tutush's forces marched to Damascus in order to relieve the city, which had been placed under siege by a Fāṭimid army. As the Seljūq force approached, the Egyptian forces withdrew and Atsiz, who had come out of the city to welcome the Tutush and the relief force, was swiftly arrested and executed.Footnote 31 There is some dispute in the sources as to whether or not Atsiz was killed immediately, or kept as a prisoner for a short time, but ultimately Tutush elected to kill Atsiz rather than keeping him as a captive. A similar fate befell both Qasīm al-Dawla Aqsunqur of Aleppo (d. 487/1095) and Buzān of Edessa (d. 487/1095) after they were defeated in battle near Buzāʿa by Tutush in 487/1094-5.Footnote 32 Aqsunqur was reportedly killed in the immediate aftermath of the battle.Footnote 33 Buzān survived only a short while longer as later that same year he was reportedly decapitated, after which his head catapulted over the walls of Edessa when the garrison refused to surrender to Tutush whilst Buzān still lived.Footnote 34

One possible explanation for Tutush's actions is that Turkish captors were unwilling to release their Seljūq rivals because of the threat they could pose once freed, particularly if the prisoner had prior claims to a captor's newly acquired territories. Tutush may have viewed Atsi̊z, Aqsunqur and Buzān, with their power bases in Syria, Palestine and Mesopotamia and personal ties to the Sultans Malik Shāh and Berkyaruq, as too dangerous to keep alive.Footnote 35 Atsiz was also presented by the chronicler Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī as a leading member of the nomadic Türkmen tribal group named the “Nāwakīya”, and it is possible that Tutush saw this as another potential obstacle to his territorial ambitions in Syria.Footnote 36 Another plausible motive for the killing of Atsiz can be found in the sixth/twelfth century Damascene chronicles of Ibn al-Qalānisī and Ibn ʿAsākir, both of whom suggested that Atsiz was not popular with the populace of the city.Footnote 37 Tutush's decision to execute Atsiz could potentially have been an attempt to curry favour with the inhabitants of Damascus. The killing of captives in this fashion can also be seen as representative of Seljūq political culture, where a proven history of martial success was an important requirement for prospective rulers. Consequently, commanders who had been defeated and captured may have been viewed as damaged or less valuable, and were therefore unable to secure large financial payments to purchase their freedom. The treatment that Atsiz, Aqsunqur and Buzān received was indicative of these wider sentiments, as they were ultimately judged to be more useful to their captor Tutush dead than alive.

This was not always the case. Kerbogha (d. 495/1102), who was taken captive by Tutush in the aftermath of the same battle as Aqsunqur and Buzān at Buzāʿa in 487/1094-5, retained some sense of residual value and was not killed. The Seljūq Sultan Berkyaruq (r. 485-98/1092-1105) had sent Kerbogha west to Syria to assist Aqsunqur and Buzān in their campaign against Tutush during the successions crisis that followed the death of the Sultan Malik Shāh in 485/1092. After Tutush was killed in battle against the Sultan Berkyaruq in 488/1095, his son Riḍwān b. Tutush (d. 507/1113) took control of Aleppo and inherited Kerbogha as a prisoner. In 489/1096, Kerbogha's release was negotiated between Riḍwān and the Sultan Berkyaruq as part of a prisoner exchange.Footnote 38 Upon his release Ṭughtegīn assumed the position of Atabeg to Duqaq of Damascus (d. 497/1104), and, considering the problems that Riḍwān experienced with his Atabeg Janāḥ al-Dawla (d. 496/1102-1103) early in his career, it is probable that Riḍwān negotiated Ṭughtegīn's release in order to inhibit the autonomy of his brother. Furthermore, Berkyaruq's willingness to release prisoners in exchange for Kerbogha suggested that he retained of some sense of residual worth to the sultan.

A partial explanation for Kerbogha's survival is provided by the Mosuli historian Ibn al-Athīr, who noted that Kerbogha was married to the daughter of a powerful Seljūq Amīr Unur (d. unknown), from whom Tutush hoped to gain support. Ibn al-Athīr also claimed that Tutush elected not to kill Kerbogha as “there was no land for him to take if he killed him, as there had been with the Amīr Buzān”.Footnote 39 This suggests that the Seljūq proclivity for killing Turkish captives was not merely a consequence of their approach to warfare or the ingrained culture of Amīral rivalry, but part of an established procedure for laying claim to newly captured territories. If accurate, it would indicate that Seljūq rulers in Syria derived obvious and immediate benefits from killing captured adversaries of Turkish heritage.

The exploitation of captives for financial gain during the early sixth/twelfth century

The establishment of Frankish polities in the Levant from 491/1098 onwards saw reported incidents of the ransom of prominent captives occur more frequently in the chronicles. This can be partly attributed to the existence of Latin source material, which provide historians with a new source base for the ransom of captives during the early sixth/twelfth century, although the majority of the examples discussed in this article were included in the medieval Arabic historiography. In addition, the works of Usāma b. Munqidh (d. 584/1188), who produced detailed reports of the ransom of prisoners, further enhances our understanding of this later period.Footnote 40 Finally, other key Arabic chroniclers, such as Ibn al-Qalānisī and Ibn al-Athīr, provided increasingly fuller accounts as the sixth/twelfth century progressed. However, this needs to be tempered with the knowledge that other vital chronicles do not become more comprehensive whilst detailing the events of the early crusading period. Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī's account of the late fifth/eleventh century is markedly more extensive than his description of the early sixth/twelfth century, whilst Ibn al-ʿAdīm gave roughly equal attention to both periods.

Aside from the increasingly detailed and varied source base, another contributing factor to the rise in references to the ransom of prisoners in the early crusading period was the capacity of the newly arrived Frankish rulers to retain financial value, even in the aftermath of military defeats. As outlined above, this contrasted with Seljūq practices in the late fifth/eleventh century, whilst prominent Fāṭimid and Byzantine captives had typically been used to achieve political and diplomatic goals, rather than the extraction of large monetary payments. Indeed, with the exception of the Byzantine Emperor Romanos IV Diogenes, the figures quoted for the ransom of high-ranking Frankish captives in the early sixth/twelfth century far exceeded the documented incidents involving Byzantine and Fāṭimid figures in the late fifth/eleventh century.

One of the earliest examples of a ransom being paid for a Frankish ruler occurred in 496/1103, after Bohemond I of Antioch (d. 504/1111) had spent three years in captivity under the Anatolian Türkmen ruler Ibn al-Dānishmand Ṭāylū (d. unknown). Bohemond had been taken prisoner after a battle near Marash in 493/1100, a settlement to the north of Antioch. Bohemond, or someone acting on Bohemond's behalf, was forced to pay a huge ransom of 100,000 dīnārs and also had to release the daughter of Yaghī-Siyān, the former Seljūq ruler of Antioch, in exchange for his freedom.Footnote 41 This is a number which far exceeded the ransom figure of 20,000 dīnārs quoted for Isaac Komnenos in 467/1075. In theory, Bohemond, as Prince of Antioch, should have been of comparable value to Isaac Komnenos, who held the Byzantine title of Dux of Antioch, and they were both ransomed by Türkmen rulers less than 30 years apart. Despite these similarities, there was a large discrepancy in the value of their reported ransom payments.Footnote 42

Matthew of Edessa suggested that the Armenian Prince Kogh Vasil of Kesoun and Raban (d. 505/1112) helped negotiate and finance Bohemond's release, with the latter's nephew Tancred (d. 505/1112) paying nothing.Footnote 43 This implied that Tancred, who assumed control of Antioch whilst his uncle was in captivity, was reluctant to pay Bohemond's ransom, indicating that even the value of high-ranking Frankish captives could vary greatly depending on individual circumstances surrounding each case. Additionally, 100,000 dīnārs does not appear to have been an outlier for Frankish captives, as Raymond III of Tripoli (d. 583/1187), Joscelyn III of Edessa (d. after 586/1190) and the Prince of Antioch Raynald of Châtillon (d. 583/1187) were ransomed for 80,000, 50,000 and 120,000 dīnārs respectively in the 570 s/1170 s.Footnote 44 The figure given for Joscelyn I of Edessa's (d. 525/1131) release in 500/1107 was 12,000 dīnārs.Footnote 45

The Franks also ransomed prisoners to augment their revenues. In 496/1103-4 the unnamed Walī of ʿAzāz launched a failed attack on the region of Antioch and was captured by Frankish troops. Riḍwān agreed a payment of 7,000 dīnārs and 10 horses in order for the Franks to release all of the Muslim prisoners that they had except for the amīrs.Footnote 46 Similarly, Usāma b. Munqidh reported that his father was forced to ransom one of his retainers for 1,000 dīnārs and a valuable horse from the nomadic Arab Khafāja tribe, following a skirmish against Antiochene forces near Shayzar during Tanacred's reign as Prince of Antioch.Footnote 47 According to Ibn al-Qalānisī (d. 555/1160), political figures were not the only target for ransom. When merchants from Egypt and north Africa were captured at sea by the Franks in 504/1110-11 their goods and money valued at 100,000 dīnārs were seized, and they were forced to ransom themselves with “all their deposits at Damascus and elsewhere”.Footnote 48

The extraction of financial payments for captives was not confined to Frankish rulers ransoming Muslims or vice versa. In 494/1102, Riḍwān made a payment of 8,000 dīnārs to Janāḥ al-Dawla of Homs to ransom his Vizier Ibn al-Mawṣul (d. 517/1124-5) and some other captives, who had been captured following a successful raid on Sarmin that year.Footnote 49 Whilst this example could be used to argue that Frankish approaches to the ransom of prisoners were being applied to intra-Seljūq conflicts, the incident involving Ibn al-Mawṣul was not directly comparable to the ransom of Seljūq military commanders, who posed more obvious threats to their Turkish captors.Footnote 50

Although Friedman was correct to advocate for a cautious approach to the ransom amounts quoted in the sources, the early crusading period saw a noticeable increase in both the frequency at which prominent captives, particularly those of Frankish heritage, were ransomed and the monetary amounts required to secure their release.Footnote 51 This development was seemingly linked to the capacity of the newly arrived Frankish rulers to retain financial value even after suffering military defeats, potentially a result of western European practices surrounding the ransom of high-ranking captives and the tradition of detained rulers retaining their right to power. It also probable that manpower shortages among the Franks contributed to increased importance being placed on military leaders in captivity, leading to a willingness to pay large ransoms. This was in contrast to Seljūq concepts of political leadership, whereby rulers typically lost influence in the aftermath of military defeats and were often killed out of fear, or as part of the process for establishing claims of rulership over new territories. Even on the rare occasions that Seljūq and Arab captives were ransomed, the sums quoted in the sources were significantly lower than those demanded for their Frankish counterparts.

The use of captives for political gain during the early sixth/twelfth century

Friedman has persuasively argued that it was more difficult to negotiate individual ransom agreements than prisoner exchanges, due to complications arising from the huge monetary sums involved.Footnote 52 Consequently, prisoners were occasionally used to serve their captors’ political ambitions. This was comparable to the use of Byzantine, Mirdāsid and Fāṭimid prisoners in the fifth/eleventh century discussed above, and the exploitation of captives in this fashion could lead to diplomatic interactions and alliances that spanned ethno-cultural and ideological divides.

The release of Baldwin II of Edessa (later Baldwin II of Jerusalem) in 502/1108 by the former of ruler of Mosul, Jawlī Saqoa (d. unknown), is a good example of this.Footnote 53 Baldwin of Edessa and Joscelyn of Tell Bāshir (d. 525/1131) were captured after a battle close to the River Balīkh, near Harran, on 9 Shaʿbān 497/7 May 1104. According to Ibn al-Athīr, the troops of the victors of the battle, Suqmān b. Artuq (d. 509/1115) and Jokermesh of Mosul (d. 500/1106), quarrelled in the aftermath of the engagement over who would take possession of Baldwin and Joscelyn, indicating a wider understanding of the value of prominent Frankish captives.Footnote 54 Jokermesh won the dispute over the prisoners, and whilst Joscelyn negotiated his way out of captivity, Baldwin was transported to Mosul as the amīrs’ captive. As Asbridge has demonstrated, the source material relating to Baldwin's release and the reported coalitions formed between Riḍwān of Aleppo and Tancred of Antioch against Jawlī Saqoa of Mosul, Baldwin, Joscelyn and the Armenian ruler Kogh Vasil, contain discrepancies relating to both the chronology and the nature of the alliances, and should therefore be treated with caution.Footnote 55

The fullest account of Baldwin's time in captivity and release is provided by Ibn al-Athīr. Although Ibn al-Athīr initially stated that Baldwin managed to ransom himself after the battle, he later claimed that Baldwin was held in captivity in Mosul for almost five years, before being released in 502/1108 in an agreement brokered by the Banū ʿUqayl of Qalʿat Jaʿbar.Footnote 56 To secure his freedom Baldwin was forced to pay an unspecified ransom, free all the Muslim prisoners he had in captivity, and pledge to “give aid (yanṣurhu) in person with his troops and money (to Jawlī), when that was wanted”.Footnote 57 The last element of this reported agreement seems remarkably similar to a khidma arrangement, the individual bonds of loyalty and service that underpinned the Seljūq political system.Footnote 58 The other accounts vary in almost every particular, with some reports claiming that Baldwin escaped without paying a ransom, and others that a partial payment and the acceptance of Joscelyn as a hostage was accepted by Jawlī before Baldwin's release.Footnote 59 It is also quite likely that tensions between Tancred of Antioch and Baldwin over control of Edessa played a role in the formation of this alliance.Footnote 60

In Ibn al-Athīr's description of events, Jawlī reportedly managed to use the ransom agreement, in addition to an offer to waive “the outstanding ransom money” (māl al-mufādāa), to persuade Joscelyn, Baldwin and some of their Armenian allies to supplement his forces in battle against the combined forces of Antioch and Aleppo at Tell Bāshir in Ṣafar 502/10 September-8 October 1108, where Jawlī's coalition was defeated. Jawlī's use of Baldwin II of Edessa in this way demonstrated that the value of Frankish captives was not purely financial. Under the right circumstances, Frankish prisoners could have enormous diplomatic and political significance and be hugely beneficial to their captors’ wider strategic goals in the region.

It also contrasted greatly with Jawlī's treatment of another non-Frankish captive. In the year 500/1106 Jawlī defeated his predecessor as ruler of Mosul, Jokermesh, in battle near Mosul and took him captive. Jawlī then ordered that Jokermesh “be watched and guarded”, and when he subsequently besieged Mosul, he “gave orders that Jokermesh should be brought out every day on a mule and that he should call upon his men in Mosul to surrender the city”. When the inhabitants elected not to surrender, Jokermesh became worthless to Jawlī. This can be inferred from the circumstances in which he was subsequently detained. During his captivity Jokermesh, who was 60 years old according to Ibn al-Athīr, was held “in a pit and men were assigned to guard him to avoid him being snatched away”. As a consequence of the harsh conditions Jokermesh was kept in “one day he was brought out dead”.Footnote 61

The disparity between Jawlī's treatment of Jokermesh and Baldwin of Edessa is stark. Jokermesh, who was of limited value, was left to die in a pit, whilst Baldwin was carefully cultivated into a useful ally to use against Riḍwān of Aleppo. Additionally, Jawlī found himself in a precarious position in 502/1108, with his powerbase in Mosul placed under siege on the orders of the Seljūq sultan. This may have forced Jawlī to release Baldwin, rather than ransoming the Frankish ruler for financial gain, facilitating a cross-cultural alliance which had the potential to furnish him with control of Aleppo. Additionally, the contrasting fortunes of Baldwin and Jokermesh provides perhaps the best insight into how Seljūq rulers who had been defeated could lose some of their value, while Frankish rulers retained their worth even after being placed in captivity.

Joscelyn was again taken captive in 515/1121-2 by the Artuqid ruler Balak b. Bahrām (d. 518/1124) following a skirmish near Edessa. Joscelyn reportedly offered a “substantial sum of money” for his release released, but Balak refused to accept this and demanded the surrender of his captive's territorial possessions. Ibn al-ʿAdīm claimed that Balak threatened to raid his lands until even “the camels would move to other lands”.Footnote 62 Balak was apparently prepared to forego a large financial payment in the hope of forcing Joscelyn to surrender the territory under his control, which as ruler of Edessa would obviously have been substantial. Joscelyn escaped from captivity in 517/1123, meaning Balak derived little material gain from his capture.Footnote 63

Balak also managed to capture Baldwin II of Jerusalem in another skirmish in Ṣafar 517/April 1123, the same individual who had been imprisoned in Mosul between 497-502/1104-8.Footnote 64 Following Balak's death during an attack on Manbij later that year, his cousin and successor as ruler of Aleppo, Timurtāsh b. Il-Ghāzī (d. 549/1154), negotiated Baldwin II's ransom in Jumādā I 518/June-July 1124, facilitated by the mediation of the Banū Munqidh of Shayzar. According to Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Baldwin agreed to “surrender” (taslīm) al-Athārib, Zardanā, al-Jizr, Kafar Ṭāb and ʿAzāz in addition to a separate payment of 80,000 dīnārs. As part of the agreement, the Amīr Abū al-ʿAsākir Sulṭān (d. 549/1154) of the Banū Munqidh of Shayzar “sent his children and the children of his brothers to Aleppo as security for Baldwin” whilst Baldwin sent “his daughter, the son of Joscelyn, other children of the Franks, and 12 soldiers” to Shayzar.Footnote 65 However, Baldwin II quickly reneged on the proposed agreement, claiming that he could not be expected to meet the obligations of an oath which had been made whilst in captivity, and launched an ultimately unsuccessful siege of Aleppo later that same year.Footnote 66 In 519/1125, the new ruler of Aleppo Aqsunqur al-Bursuqī (d. 520/1126) returned the hostages from the Banū Munqidh to Shayzar, and took the Frankish hostages that had been sent there as part of Baldwin II's settlement. Ibn al-ʿAdīm reported that Aqsunqur later released the hostages in exchange for 80,000 dīnārs.Footnote 67

Baldwin II's second release from captivity in 518/1124, much like in 502/1108, required a complex diplomatic agreement negotiated between various groups of Arab, Turkish and Frankish heritage, which has largely been looked at from the perspective of the crusader states. The settlement negotiated by Timurtāsh would have restored Aleppo's frontiers, with the added bonus of nearly matching the highest ransom payment of any Frankish captive in northern Syria, set by Bohemond in 493/1100. Ultimately though, Baldwin only paid 20,000 dīnārs for his initial release, and surrendered no territory. Additionally, the timing of his release enabled Baldwin to launch the most substantive attack on Aleppo by any Frankish ruler during the entire crusading period. One of the main reasons for this turn of events was that Timurtāsh did not even attempt to force Baldwin II to honour his agreement, electing instead to travel east to Mardin and assume control over the Artuqid heartlands, leaving Aleppo isolated and vulnerable. Timurtāsh's successor in Aleppo, Aqsunqur al-Bursuqī, eventually managed to extract 80,000 dīnārs from Baldwin II for the release of the hostages. This brought the total ransom amount to 100,000 dīnārs, exceeding the initial agreement by 20,000 dīnārs.

Whilst Baldwin's decision not to comply with the terms negotiated for his ransom calls into question the agreement's significance, it was actually a rare occurrence for parties to breach diplomatic agreements in such a cavalier fashion. As Friedman has outlined, this form of cross-cultural diplomacy was at least partly dependent upon the making and acceptance of oaths.Footnote 68 Indeed, nearly all ransoms involving prominent Frankish captives during the sixth/twelfth century were paid in full, and it is possible that Baldwin's non-compliance in 518/1124 contributed to this. Upon his release in 518/1124 Baldwin II had only spent a total of 14 months in captivity and was able to make a partial payment and use hostages to cover the deficit. In contrast, Bohemond I of Antioch, Raymond III of Tripoli, Joscelyn III of Edessa and Raynald of Châtillon were imprisoned for roughly three, eight, 12 and 16 years respectively. It therefore seems probable that as a consequence of Baldwin's actions in 518/1124, later Frankish captives were kept imprisoned until their captors could realise their ransoms in full.

Seljūq rulers also tried to use Muslim prisoners and hostages to achieve their political aims. In Dhu ʾl-Ḥijja 508/late April 1115 Aqsunqur al-Bursuqī took one of the sons of Il-Ghāzī hostage in order to force his father to participate in a campaign against the Franks. This eventually led to a battle later that year between Aqsunqur and Il-Ghāzī at an unspecified location somewhere between Mardin and Hiṣn Kayfa, which Il-Ghāzī emerged victorious from, leading to his son's release.Footnote 69 Il-Ghāzī was himself taken captive by Khīr Khān of Homs (d. 523/1129) in 508/1115. When Il-Ghāzī was released he was forced to give his son Ayāz b. Il-Ghāzī (d. 508/1115) as a hostage in his place, to make a marriage alliance with Khīr Khān, and promise to protect his captor against adversaries including Ṭughtegīn of Damascus. Il-Ghāzī swiftly broke these promises and besieged Homs in an attempt to rescue his son, but the arrival of the Seljūq sultan's army in 509/1115 forced him to withdraw.Footnote 70

Ultimately, the practice of trying to exploit captives for political gain was largely unsuccessful during the early sixth/twelfth century. Indeed, none of the attempts to use prisoners in this way actually provided long term benefits to any of their captors. However, in addition to potentially offering large financial rewards through negotiated ransom agreements, Frankish captives could also be used to extract huge diplomatic and territorial concessions or enable military alliances that crossed ethnic and cultural boundaries. The use of prominent Frankish prisoners in this way corresponded with Byzantine, Arab, Fāṭimid and Seljūq practices during the late fifth/eleventh century. Obvious parallels can be drawn between the Byzantine demands for hostages from the Arab Mirdāsid dynasty, the Türkmen ruler Shuklī's exploitation of the Fāṭimid Vizier Badr al-Jamālī's family from Acre in 467/1074 and Jawlī's use of Baldwin in 502/1108, reflecting both the unique opportunities that captives could provide for their captors under the right circumstances, and the volatile political environment present in northern Syria throughout this entire timeframe.

The killing of Frankish captives and the influence of Türkmen troops

Not all rulers saw the capture of high-ranking prisoners as an opportunity to derive financial or political gain. During the siege of al-Ṭūbān, northwest of Homs and south of Rafaniyya, in 495/1101-2 the Walī Ibn al-ʿArīḍ (d. unknown) took a high-ranking Frankish lord captive. Ibn al-ʿArīḍ refused to ransom his captive, despite being offered 10,000 dīnārs and the release of 1,000 Muslim prisoners.Footnote 71

The most prominent figure inculpated of killing Frankish captives was Ṭughtegīn of Damascus.Footnote 72 In 501/1107-8 Ṭughtegīn captured Gervase of Tiberias, the nephew of King Baldwin I of Jerusalem (r. 494-511/1100-18), after defeating his forces in battle at Tiberias. According to Ibn al-Athīr, Gervase was killed by Ṭughtegīn because he refused to convert to Islam following his capture. Gervase instead “offered 30,000 dīnārs and the liberation of 500 captives to ransom himself”, but “Ṭughtegīn was not satisfied with anything but conversion, and when he would not agree, killed him with his own hands”.Footnote 73 The Egyptian chronicler Ibn al-Furāt provided some grim details about how Ṭughtegīn reportedly executed Gervase. “He (Ṭughtegīn) hollowed out his skull while he was still alive and drank wine from it with the count watching him. He lived for an hour and then died”.Footnote 74

Ṭughtegīn supposedly acted similarly in 513/1119, when the Frankish lord of Zardanā, Robert fitz-Fulk the Leper, was captured following a skirmish in the aftermath of the battle of the Field of Blood. The Antiochene chronicler Walter the Chancellor claimed that Ṭughtegīn decapitated Robert and made his skull into a bejewelled drinking vessel, which is remarkably similar to the claims made by Ibn al-Furāt about Ṭughtegīn's treatment of Gervase.Footnote 75 In contrast, the Aleppan historian Ibn al-ʿAdīm simply stated that Il-Ghāzī “gave him (Robert) to the Atabeg Ṭughtegīn, and he killed him whilst he was a prisoner”.Footnote 76 Similarly, Joscelyn II of Edessa died in Aleppo as a prisoner of Nūr al-Dīn (d. 569/1174) in 554/1159.Footnote 77

According to the chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, the Byzantine governor of Antioch, Philaretos Brachamios (r. 469-77/1076-85), who was of Armenian heritage, was involved in a similar episode in the late fifth/eleventh century. Matthew claimed that in 464-6/1072-3 Philaretos, who was at that time in an alliance with a group of “Turks”, took the decapitated skull of T'oṛnik the Armenian lord of Sasun and “made it into a cup which he used for drinking wine”.Footnote 78 Although this report may indicate that non-Turkish individuals used the skulls of defeated rivals to drink wine, it seems more likely that the author is attempting to “Turkify” Philaretos, a figure who Matthew of Edessa had a very poor opinion of.Footnote 79 Matthew's report also increases the likelihood that examples of rulers drinking wine from the skulls of captured or defeated enemies were a literary topos or trope, employed to portray the brutality of Turkish peoples, drifting between texts. In the case of this story, it was viewed as sufficiently compelling and graphic to migrate between the Latin, Arabic and Armenian historiographical traditions.

Even if Ṭughtegīn did not kill Robert fitz-Fulk the Leper or Gervase of Tiberias in this manner, multiple sources indicate that he did kill them whilst they were in captivity. Usāma b. Munqidh wrote that Il-Ghāzī was unimpressed when he learnt of Ṭughtegīn's killing of Robert. “Il-Ghāzī sent a messenger to the atabeg to reproach him, saying, ‘we need every single dīnār to pay our Türkmen troops. And this man, who had set his ransom at 10,000 dīnārs, we sent him to you so that you could scare him and he might raise his ransom. And you killed him!’”.Footnote 80 Whilst reported speech such as this needs to be treated with some caution, especially from a source like Usāma b. Munqidh, who was prone to exaggeration and even invention, Il-Ghāzī's words are suggestive of a wider understanding of the potential financial value of high-ranking Frankish captives.

This excerpt also implied that prominent members of the Frankish elite in the Latin east were viewed as a potential means of financially rewarding nomadic Türkmen groups for their participation in northern Syrian military activity.Footnote 81 Persuading Türkmen troops to campaign in the region had historically proven difficult for Seljūq rulers. Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī claimed that the Sultan Ṭughrīl Beg's planned offensive against Syria in 477/1055 was disrupted by his Türkmen commanders, who raised questions about the suitability of the region's terrain for their lifestyle, complaining that: “this land (al-shām) is ruined, there is neither food nor fodder here…We cannot stay indefinitely on the back of our horses. What if our families, horses and beasts come, but our absence becomes drawn out?”.Footnote 82 In the late fifth/eleventh century, the opportunity for Türkmen groups to conduct extensive raids in territory controlled by Byzantine rulers of Antioch and the Mirdāsids of Aleppo helped to draw them to the region.Footnote 83 These attacks were facilitated by the porous nature of Byzantium's eastern frontier in Syria, Anatolia and Cilicia and ambiguity surrounding the Mirdāsid dynasty's ties to the Great Seljūq Sultanate.

These targets were no longer available to Türkmen groups in the early sixth/twelfth century, largely as a consequence of the firmer grip that the early Frankish rulers of Antioch maintained over the Principality's eastern frontiers compared to their Byzantine predecessors, but also due to the installation of rulers in Aleppo and Damascus with stronger ties to the Seljūqs.Footnote 84 The unsuitability of the region for extended campaigning by Türkmen groups and the dearth of sufficient targets for raiding meant that figures such as Il-Ghāzī and Ṭughtegīn had to find a new ways of attracting Türkmen groups to Syria. The potential income to be derived from the capture and ransom high-ranking Frankish prisoners seems to have provided some form of solution to this issue, suggesting that the influence of Türkmen groups may also have contributed to the increased rate at which Frankish prisoners were ransomed in the early sixth/twelfth century.

The reported actions of Ibn al-ʿArīḍ and Ṭughtegīn indicated that not all individuals sought to derive financial or political gain from the capture of Frankish captives, and, as discussed above, the killing of military captives, particularly those of Turkish heritage, was a fairly common feature of Seljūq military struggles. Even if the depictions of the gruesome killing of captives were literary tropes, Ṭughtegīn was still significantly crueller to his Frankish captives than most of his Seljūq contemporaries, and Hillenbrand is probably correct to assert that this his actions were influenced by the traditions of tribal steppe society. What makes these examples involving Ibn al-ʿArīḍ and Ṭughtegīn so exceptional is that they knowingly killed prominent Frankish prisoners, which reinforces the impression that prisoners of elite status who had ties to the crusader states were perceived as having a special value. Indeed, most Seljūq rulers seem to have viewed Frankish captives as a lucrative source of potential income, ideal for recompensing the nomadic Türkmen troops upon whose martial capabilities the minor Seljūq potentates of Syria relied during the formative years of the sixth/twelfth century.

The arrival of the Franks and the ransom of captives

Although ransom agreements were relatively rare, largely due to the huge financial sums involved, it is fair to conclude that there were more instances of captives being ransomed during the early crusading period than in the five decades which preceded it. Additionally, Frankish captives seemingly had the potential to deliver greater financial rewards to their captors than prisoners with ties to the Byzantines, Fāṭimids and Seljūqs. There were instances when the value of Frankish prisoners was specifically referred to in the source material, particularly as a means of rewarding Türkmen troops for campaigning in Syria.

There was a confluence of three factors which contributed to this increase in both the number of reported instances of ransom and the value of payments involved in these interactions during the early sixth/twelfth century. These included the ability of prominent Frankish prisoners to retain influence and rights to power in a way that many of their contemporaries from different ethno-cultural groups did not, Seljūq practices relating to the execution of Turkish captives, and the need for Syrian-based Seljūq rulers to attract Türkmen groups to campaign in Syria and financially recompense them for their service. Whilst Friedman was undoubtedly correct that norms and conventions of ransom during the crusading period were adapted from medieval Islamic society, and that there were long standing precedents for the ransom and exchange of captives in Syria in the centuries preceding 490/1097, the early sixth/twelfth century saw the practice of ransoming prominent prisoners become more commonplace in northern Syria when compared to the 50 years prior to the First Crusade. This represents a tangible difference that the arrival of the Franks had upon this form of diplomacy in the region, particularly among Seljūq rulers.Footnote 85

Peace treaties, tributary agreements and condominia arrangements

The following part of this article outlines how regional practices surrounding peace treaties and tributary agreements in late fifth/eleventh century northern Syria helped to shape diplomatic interactions between the crusader states and neighbouring potentates during the early sixth/twelfth century. Asbridge has provided a detailed analysis of the tributary arrangements between Antioch and Aleppo during the early sixth/twelfth century, whilst Köhler wrote the most comprehensive research on diplomatic contacts between the Franks and other polities in Syria throughout the entirety of the century.Footnote 86 Friedman, Frenkel, Dajani-Shakeel and Elisséeff have also analysed peace treaties and tributary agreements, and evidence of these forms of cross-cultural diplomacy have generally been used by crusade historians to raise questions about the religious motivations of Muslim and Frankish rulers, or to split the crusading conflict into different phases of development, shaping the narrative of when which side was in the ascendency.Footnote 87

Here, an attempt will be made to place the agreements involving the crusader states during the early sixth/twelfth century in the context of similar diplomatic interactions in Syria from the pre-crusading period. To this end, the relationship between peace treaties (hudna), tributary relationships (māl)Footnote 88 and condominia or munāṣafa agreements will be analysed in detail.Footnote 89 Although tributary relationships and condominia agreements were usually presented in the chronicles as component parts of negotiated peace treaties, there are subtle distinctions between how each of these diplomatic mechanisms were applied at a local level in northern Syria during this period. This is not only revealing in regard to regional power dynamics; it also provides insight into how the Franks’ arrival impacted upon regional approaches to diplomacy.

Peace treaties in Syria during the fifth/eleventh century

It is important to distinguish between peace treaties, tributary payments and condominia agreements. The Arabic term for peace treaty “hudna” is often used by medieval Arabic historians to designate both standard peace treaties and those including monetary payments, the granting of territory or the division of property rights. This is because these latter concessions could be negotiated as elements of broader peace treaties. In this article, a distinction will be drawn between peace treaties, tributary payments and condominia arrangements, with peace treaties referring to standard agreements to cease hostilities between two or more parties without an obligation to pay a monetary sum, cede territory or divide the revenue from specific areas.Footnote 90 As is discussed in detail below, nearly all recorded peace treaties between Syrian factions in the 50 years prior to the Franks’ arrival involved the payment of tribute from one party to another.

There are very few references to peace treaties and no descriptions of interactions resembling condominia agreements in the extant source material covering Syria during the late fifth/eleventh century.Footnote 91 Indeed, there is no reference to a peace treaty with or without tributary obligations between warring Seljūq potentates operating in Syria during the late fifth/eleventh century, despite intermittent periods of intense conflict. Nor is there a reference to a negotiated peace treaty between Syrian Seljūq rulers and the Shīʿī Fāṭimid Caliphate of Egypt during this time-frame.

Although it may be tempting to attribute this to the sectarian biases of the Sunnī authors of our sources, they did not omit references to other forms of diplomatic contact between Cairo and political figures of Turkish heritage operating in Syria during this time-frame.Footnote 92 Additionally, the chroniclers do mention peace treaties that the Byzantine Empire agreed with both the Fāṭimid Caliphate and the Great Seljūq Sultanate in the 440 s/1050 s and 450 s/1060 s, indicating a willingness on behalf of the ruling elites in Constantinople, Cairo and Baghdad to negotiate peace treaties across ideological boundaries. However, due to the declining influence of the former two factions in Syria during this period, these agreements were largely irrelevant to interactions between the polities and rulers operating on the ground in the region.Footnote 93

It is hard to make an argument from a negative. It is possible that more peace treaties, where two sides agreed to cease hostilities on neutral terms, did take place, and that the lack of detailed coverage for the late fifth/eleventh century in Ibn al-Qalānisī and Ibn al-Athīr, two sources vital for information concerning similar interactions in the early crusading period, may explain the discrepancy between the two periods. However, even Ibn al-ʿAdīm, who provided plentiful information on diplomatic contacts in the pre-crusading period, made very little reference to agreements to cease hostilities during intra-Seljūq conflicts in Syria, or between these same rulers and the Fāṭimid Caliphate. These omissions strengthen the impression that peace treaties were not a common feature of Seljūq diplomacy in late fifth/eleventh century Syria, and suggest that they were given a renewed emphasis in the region during the early sixth/twelfth century as a consequence of the arrival of the Franks.

Fifth/eleventh century precedents of tributary relationships

Our knowledge of tributary relationships in this period is almost entirely reliant upon evidence from a small selection of the Arabic source material. This problem is further exacerbated by the lack of clarity surrounding the terminology and details of these interactions, resulting from discrepancies between the few available sources of information. Despite these issues, there is evidence that tributary agreements between rival rulers were a relatively common feature of Syrian political contacts throughout the latter half of the fifth/eleventh and early sixth/twelfth centuries.

It is possible to distinguish between two different categories of tribute payments in Syria during this period. The first were one-time payments, whilst the second were the payments of an agreed sum on a yearly or annual basis, usually designated by the term “every year” (kul sina) in the Arabic chronicles. One-time payments were the more common occurrence, often caused by unique circumstances, such as opportunistic raids and battles that briefly altered the set dynamics between the polities in the region. The latter tended to be a result of longer-term trends that served to underscore the balance of power in these relationships. Often, a continuous succession of one-time payments, applying almost constant pressure to one party, could lead to the establishment of a more enduring system of annual tribute payments.

The impact and meaning of tributary payments were often highly subjective, with each case dependent upon individual circumstances and the perspective from which the agreements were viewed. Usually the payment of tribute is interpreted as an acknowledgment of inferiority from one side, and an indicator of superiority on the other, similar to what Fletcher described as a “protection racket” during the “Taifa” period of the fifth/eleventh century Iberia.Footnote 94 In the medieval world, where reputation and prestige were hugely important factors, no ruler in a position of strength would choose to pay a tribute. However, tributary relationships in Syria between 442-522/1050-1128 could simultaneously represent different things to all parties involved. There were occasions when from one point of view it represented an extension of one's zone of influence, whilst from the other side it could potentially facilitate a sense of continuing autonomy. An analogous example of multiple, contrasting interpretations of tributary agreements in Syria during this period can be seen in the Mirdāsids of Aleppo and their relationships with the Byzantine Empire and the Fāṭimid Caliphate during the fifth/eleventh century.

In 442-3/1050-1 the Mirdāsid ruler of Aleppo, Thimāl b. Ṣāliḥ (d. 454/1062), paid simultaneous annual tributes of 500,000 silver dirhams to the Byzantine Emperor, and 20,000 gold dīnārs to the Fāṭimid Caliph. In relation to the Byzantine tribute Yaḥyā al-Anṭākī (d. 458/1066) and Ibn al-ʿAdīm both refer to the figure of 500,000 dirhams per year as being negotiated as part of a “hudna” or peace treaty between the Byzantines and Mirdāsids in 422/1030-1. According to Yaḥyā al-Anṭākī, who provided the most detailed account of the terms of this treaty, 500,000 dirhams equated to roughly 8,000 dīnārs.Footnote 95 Yaḥyā al-Anṭākī also reported that a diplomatic mission to deliver the “tribute money” was sent from Aleppo to Constantinople in 423/1031-2, whilst Ibn al-ʿAdīm stated that in 435/1043-4 Thimāl b. Ṣāliḥ made a renewed commitment to make annual payments on the same terms as the 422/1030-1 treaty, and later sent the “decided upon annual tribute” to Constantinople in 443/1051-2.Footnote 96 There was presumably a suspension of payments to the Byzantines during the years 429-33/1038-42 when Aleppo was under Fāṭimid control, whilst the tributary agreement probably came to an end following a second Fāṭimid occupation of Aleppo in 450/1058.

In relation to the Fāṭimid tribute, Ibn al-ʿAdīm and al-Maqrīzī both stated that the Mirdāsid ruler Thimāl b. Ṣāliḥ sent a payment of 40,000 dīnārs, which the latter chronicler described as “tribute money for two years” (māl sinatayn), in the year 442/1050.Footnote 97 It is not clear how enduring this tributary relationship was after 442/1050, as there are no references to further payments prior to or following the second Fāṭimid occupation of Aleppo between 450-2/1058-60. Additionally, Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī reported that Maḥmūd b. Naṣr refused a demand from the Fāṭimid Caliph al-Mustanṣir to renew tribute payments to Cairo in 459/1066-7.Footnote 98

The notion of a city or faction simultaneously playing the role of tribute payer, and in Beihammer's opinion “vassal”, to two different factions at the same time seems to contradict the linear notion of vassalage.Footnote 99 Throughout the fifth/eleventh century the Mirdāsids of Aleppo were forced to navigate a careful path between the ruling hierarchies of Constantinople and Cairo, occasionally enduring periods of occupation by the Fāṭimids. Despite this, Mirdāsid acceptance of both Byzantine and Fāṭimid influence in Aleppo frequently enabled them to exploit the situation for their own benefit, requesting support from one side against the other and vice versa. This was comparable to the fluid political dynamics in Spain during this period. Some Iberian “Taifa Kingdoms”, such as Seville and Valencia, largely managed to exploit the chaotic circumstances in Spain during the fifth/eleventh century to increase their wealth and influence.Footnote 100

The Mirdāsid siege of Byzantine held Antioch in 454/1062 by ʿAṭiyya b. Ṣāliḥ (r. 454-7/1062-5), led to a first payment from Antioch to Aleppo in the fifth/eleventh century of an undisclosed amount.Footnote 101 Further attack on Antiochene territory by Mirdāsid forces led to paymenets of 50 dīnārs a day during a siege of Antioch in 457/1064-5, and 14,000 dīnārs and 100,000 dīnārs in 462/1069-70 and 469/1076-7.Footnote 102 An annual tribute of 20,000 dīnārs “every year (kul sina)” was agreed in 475/1082-3 between the Byzantine governor of Antioch “al-Fardūs”, better known as Philaretos Brachamios, and the ʿUqaylid ruler of Aleppo and Mosul Sharaf al-Dawla Muslim b. Quraysh, which lasted until the fall of Antioch to Sulaymān b. Qutlumush in 477/1084.Footnote 103 The sum of 20,000 dīnārs was important, as it is a figure which continued to be quoted in relation to similar agreements involving Frankish rulers in the sixth/twelfth century.

Additionally, Ibn al-ʿAdīm claimed that the Banū Munqidh of Shayzar made two payments to rulers of Aleppo during the fifth/eleventh century. In 478/1085-6 Sadīd al-Mulk ʿAlī (d. 475/1082) of the Banū Munqidh paid an unspecified sum to Sulaymān b. Qutlumush, amīr of Antioch in order to lift a siege of Shayzar, whilst in 481/1088-9 Nasr b. ʿAlī (r. 475-92/1082-98) “agreed a deposit or statement of friendship (istaqarrat al-wādʿa)” with Aqsunqur of Aleppo, following another siege of Shayzar.Footnote 104 Ibn al-ʿAdīm used a different formulation of words to express this last interaction, differentiating it from other agreements and treaties.

Peace treaties and tributary relationships in the early sixth/twelfth century

Diplomatic agreements between the Frankish Principality of Antioch and the Amīrate of Aleppo have been covered in detail by Asbridge and Köhler.Footnote 105 Asbridge focused on the role of tributary payments as a means of weakening Aleppan resistance. As discussed above, there was an established precedent of a tributary relationship between Aleppo and Antioch during the latter half of the fifth/eleventh century. This would indicate that the Franks did not import a new concept into Syria. Instead they revived an existing practice, which had been employed as recently as 477/1084-1085 between Antioch and Aleppo, only 12 years prior to the arrival of the armies of the First Crusade in the Levant. There is some discrepancy in the Arabic source material as to what payments were made by the rulers of Aleppo to the Frankish rulers of Antioch in the early sixth/twelfth century. Whilst many historians provide an overview of the source material, there has been little attempt to categorise the different forms of tribute payments during this period.

The earliest reference to a tributary payment was made by Ibn al-ʿAdīm, who claimed that Riḍwān b. Tutush “agreed to pay” unnamed Franks “7,000 dīnārs and 10 horses for the release of their prisoners” in 496/1103-4.Footnote 106 ʿIzz al-Dīn Ibn Shaddād (d. 684/1285) wrote that this developed into a peace treaty that required annual tributary payments, and for the Aleppans to install a bell and erect a cross on the citadel mosque.Footnote 107 The next reference to a peace treaty between Antioch and Aleppo came in 500/1106, when Ibn al-Qalānisī noted that “Riḍwān made this treaty with Antioch to help Jawlī besiege Raḥba with Il-Ghāzī”, notably omitting any mention of a tribute payment.Footnote 108

An entry in Ibn al-Qalānisī's chronicle under the year 503/1109-10, which stated that Riḍwān agreed to pay Tancred of Antioch 20,000 dīnārs “every year” and “10 head of horses” in exchange for a peace treaty, is largely seen as the starting point of the tributary relationship in modern historiography. Ibn al-ʿAdīm agreed with the figures involved, but did not employ the term “every year”. Ibn al-ʿAdīm also stated that Riḍwān had broken a previously agreed peace treaty at this time, which could be a reference to the 500/1106 treaty mentioned above.Footnote 109 Whilst the omission of the phrase “every year” may not seem very significant, Ibn al-ʿAdīm had used the term to refer to similar agreements during the fifth/eleventh century. Its omission raises doubts about whether this was an annual tributary arrangement, or a more fluid settlement.

To add to the confusion, Ibn al-Athīr claimed that Aleppo made a one-off payment of 32,000 dīnārs in 504/1110-11 in exchange for a peace treaty until “the ripening and harvesting of the crops” the following year (505/1111-12).Footnote 110 The amount mentioned by Ibn al-Athīr does not fit with the established precedent of the fifth/eleventh century, or the numbers given in the other Syrian based Arabic chronicles, although it does match those provided by Michael the Syrian.Footnote 111 Instead, the evidence presented in Ibn al-Qalānisī and Ibn al-ʿAdīm for 18 Jumādā I 506/11 December 1112, seems to fit better with the established precedent in the region. Ibn al-Qalānisī claimed that after Tancred died on 18 Jumādā I 506/11 December 1112, his successor Roger of Salerno (r. 506-19/1112-19), demanded that Riḍwān provide Aleppo's “settled” (al-mustaqirra) tribute, and Riḍwān sent 20,000 dīnārs and some horses.Footnote 112 Ibn al-ʿAdīm went into more detail, and disagreed about the amount paid. He claimed that shortly before Tancred's death in 506/1112, Riḍwān offered the ruler of Antioch “20,000 dīnārs and 10 horses” so that he would not attack the strategically important settlement of ʿAzāz, which Tancred rejected. When Tancred died a short time later, his successor, Roger of Salerno, informed Riḍwān that he would “take from him” the same amount that he had given to Tancred, and this was “10,000 dīnārs”.Footnote 113

To summarise, there is clear disagreement around the amount and frequency of payments being made between Aleppo and Antioch during the early years of the crusading period. The only references to an annual tributary arrangement were made by Ibn al-Qalānisī and ʿIzz al-Dīn Ibn Shaddād. When we consider that there is evidence of negotiations in 503/1109-10, 504/1110-11 and 506/1112 in various sources, it would seem safe to assume that there was a regular tributary arrangement. However, it also appears that the agreements or payments had to be renegotiated when the situation changed, rather than the Franks demanding a customary payment every year. Following the death of Riḍwān in 507/1113, Ibn al-ʿAdīm asserted that unspecified Franks demanded that his son and successor Alp Arslān b. Riḍwān (d. 507/113) cede them “the regions that belonged to them in Aleppo, and so he gave them a payment of money”.Footnote 114

Köhler and Asbridge have speculated that the gaps between the peace treaties and tributary payments in the Arabic source material were filled in by unmentioned treaties, largely based upon Ibn al-Qalānisī's assertion that payments were made by Aleppo to Antioch “every year”.Footnote 115 There is some reason to doubt this, largely because of its omission from Ibn al-ʿAdīm's more detailed account. Instead, it seems more likely that there were payments made by Riḍwān and his son Alp Arslān to rulers of Antioch in 503/1109-10 for breaking a peace treaty, in 506/1112 because of the death of Tancred, and in 507/1113 due to the death of Riḍwān, and that Ibn al-Qalanisī confused this for annual payments. This would fit well with the fifth/eleventh century precedent, where one-off events triggered tribute payments, rather than an almost instantaneous established protocol for annual payments between early Frankish rulers of Antioch and Riḍwān and his son Alp Arslān in Aleppo. Ultimately, there is some question as to whether an annual tributary agreement between Antioch and Aleppo existed during the early crusading period.

Condominia or munāṣafa arrangements 510-522/1116-1128

Much like tributary relationships, condominia or munāṣafa agreements are usually discussed as a feature of peace treaties (hudna) in the chronicles. Köhler has presented the most detailed overview of the introduction of condominia or munāṣafa agreements to Syria during the early sixth/twelfth century, citing evidence from within the Arabic chronicles that stipulated the equal division of specific territories and the agricultural produce or taxes of certain regions. The Arabic term “munāṣafa”, meaning “the reciprocal property-sharing by two co-owners, each of them holding the half of a one and undivided object” and other similar Arabic terms were utilised by Ibn al-Qalānisī and Ibn al-ʿAdīm in their descriptions of the agreements between early Frankish rulers and neighbouring potentates in Aleppo and Damascus in the early sixth/twelfth century. Köhler asserted that these agreements should be viewed as condominia agreements because they share many of the property division elements that were included in the more detailed seventh/thirteenth century “munāṣafa” treaties.Footnote 116 Basically, because the terms of these condominia or munāṣafa agreements far exceeded simple time-limited truces for the cessation of hostilities, or the payment of tribute, they merit their own category.

This following section will assert that condominia or munāṣafa agreements, coupled with demands for the surrender of territory, became a vital offensive tool for the rulers of Antioch against Aleppo in the early sixth/twelfth century. This was particularly relevant for the period between the battle of the Field of Blood in 513/1119 and the siege of Aleppo by Baldwin II of Jerusalem in 518/1124-5. Additionally, it will be argued that condominia arrangements increased in frequency from 512/1118 onwards due to the establishment in Aleppo of rulers who needed to negotiate peace treaties in order return east to Mardin or Mosul on a regular basis. Finally, it will also be asserted that these condominia agreements were far more impactful than the previous tributary payments, which have been the focus of much of the historiography to date.

As Köhler has outlined, the first reference to a condominium or munāṣafa agreement was made by Ibn al-Qalānisī under the year 502/1108 in relation to a peace treaty which divided the areas of the Sawād and the Jabal ʿAwf between the city of Damascus and the Frankish Kingdom of Jerusalem.Footnote 117 The Damascene chronicler provided more detail under the year 503/1109-10 writing that “the Franks should receive one third of the produce (istighlal) of al-Biqāʾ and that the fortresses of al-Munaīṭira and Ibn ʿAkkār should be delivered up to them” in addition to “the fortresses of Maṣyāf, Ḥiṣn al-Akrād” and that their inhabitants should “pay a stipulated sum every year” (mālān muʿaynān fī kul sina) to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. But he also noted that the Franks of Jerusalem did not keep to the treaty and that they “returned to their customary ravaging and destroying”.Footnote 118 Consequently, a new agreement was made the following year in Dhu ʾl-Ḥijja 504/July 1111, when it was decided that Baldwin should receive half (al-niṣf) the yield of the Sawād and the Jabal ʿAwf, “in addition to what he possessed, as well as those of neighbouring districts which were in the hands of the Arabs of al-Jarrāh”.Footnote 119 Ṭughtegīn tried to extricate Damascus from this agreement following the death of Baldwin I in 512/1118, but seemingly failed.Footnote 120

Although Damascus and Jerusalem had been involved in a condominia or munāṣafa agreements since 503/1109-10, the rulers of Antioch apparently did not seek similar arrangements with Aleppo until 510/1116-17 at the earliest. Ibn al-ʿAdīm wrote that in this year the temporary ruler of Aleppo, Yārūqtāsh (r. 509/1115), agreed a peace treaty with Antioch, where he “transported money” to Roger of Salerno, surrendered the fortress of al-Qubba, and arranged convoys to transport the “tax” (maks) to Antioch in 510/1116-17.Footnote 121 This is the first concrete suggestion of a condominium between Antioch and Aleppo, although it was far more limited in scope than those agreed between Damascus and Jerusalem. Another peace treaty was agreed between Aleppo and Antioch in 511/1117-18 in return for which “they (the notables of Aleppo) transported money and gifts to the lord of Antioch, and he returned the cargo and loads and others to them, and they did not receive a thing from him in return”.Footnote 122 Again, both of these examples suggested spontaneous settlements based on changing circumstances similar to the previous tributary agreements, rather than agreed upon annual payments.

The period from 514/1120-21 onwards, coinciding with Baldwin II's time in control of Antioch following the battle of the Field of Blood, saw a shift in the demands Antioch made of Aleppan rulers. After Il-Ghāzī b. Artuq followed up his victory at the battle or the Field of Blood in 513/1119 with a failed assault on ʿAzāz in 514/1120-21, he requested a peace treaty from Antioch so that he could return east to Mardin. Ibn al-ʿAdīm claimed that Il-Ghāzī was forced to concede “al-Maʿarrat (al-Nuʿmān), Kafar Ṭāb, al-Jubal and al-Bāra, and villages from the Jabal al-Summāq, with a tax (rasm) on Hāb, and villages from Laylūn and a tax (rasm) on Tell Aghdī, and villages from the region of ʿAzāz with a tax (rasm) on ʿAzāz”.Footnote 123

Asbridge argued that because Aleppo did not actually control settlements such as Maʿrrat al-Nuʿmān, Kafar Ṭāb and ʿAzāz at this time, the “concessions probably had more to do with legal rights than physical possession”.Footnote 124 However, as Köhler has identified, the detailed description of specific villages and regions provided by Ibn al-ʿAdīm in relation to the 514/1120-21 arrangement is reminiscent of Ibn al-Qalānisī's description of earlier condominia agreements between Jerusalem and Damascus from 502/1108 onwards.Footnote 125 This would suggest that the 514/1120-21 treaty referred to a specific arrangement for the cultivation of the agricultural areas on the frontier between Antioch and Aleppo or a detailed condominia arrangement similar to those agreed between Damascus and Jerusalem, rather than individual rights to the specific settlements. As King of Jerusalem Baldwin would have been familiar with Jerusalem's condominia agreements with Damascus, and he seemingly integrated them into diplomatic interactions between Antioch and Aleppo. Baldwin may also have been exploiting Il-Ghāzī's need to agree a peace treaty in order to return east to his other dominions, to force wider territorial concessions from the ruler of Aleppo.

In 515/1121-2 Il-Ghāzī ordered his son Sulaymān to negotiate a peace treaty with the Franks. According to Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Aleppo made further concessions surrendering Sarmīn, al-Jazar, Laylūn and the “regions to the north” in addition to “half (al-niṣf) of what was around Aleppo” and the “equal division (naṣafūhum) of the mill of the Arabs”. Supposedly, the Franks requested the surrender of the strategically vital fortress of al-Athārib, but Il-Ghāzī refused.Footnote 126 However, Il-Ghāzī's successor in Aleppo, his nephew Badr al-Dawla Sulaymān b. ʿAbd al-Jabbar (r. 516-17/1122-3), subsequently surrendered al-Athārib in exchange for a peace treaty with the Franks in 517/1123.Footnote 127

Although Köhler portrayed these treaties as marking a “slight Frankish predominance”, it is clear that in 511/1117-18 and especially in 514/1120-1, 515/1121-2 and 517/1123, the Frankish rulers of Antioch were able to demand huge territorial concessions from the rulers of Aleppo.Footnote 128 It is likely that these arrangements were initially facilitated by the need for Artuqid potentates to agree peace treaties in order to return to Mardin. This diplomatic mechanism, combined with the Frankish policy of intense raiding and the loss of several key settlements, led to food shortages in Aleppo, establishing the conditions necessary for Baldwin II's siege of Aleppo in 518/1124-5.Footnote 129 Consequently, the condominia or munāṣafa agreements were far more significant in weakening the city-state of Aleppo and a greater indication of Antiochene supremacy than the former tributary payments had been.

In 519/1125-6 the new ruler of Aleppo, Aqsunqur al-Bursuqī, agreed another peace treaty with the Franks.Footnote 130 The terms of the agreement were far superior to those negotiated prior to his arrival, as Ibn al-ʿAdīm claimed that the rulers of Aleppo and Antioch agreed to the equal division (nāṣafahum) of “the territories in the Jabal al-Summāq” and all other settlements under Frankish control. A renegotiation took place soon afterwards in which “the villages between ʿAzāz and Aleppo” were also “shared evenly” (munāṣafa).Footnote 131 This treaty, negotiated by a figure who controlled both Aleppo and Mosul, underlined just how vulnerable Aleppo had been in the years prior to Aqsunqur's arrival in 518/1125.

The Franks’ impact upon northern Syrian tributary relationships

This section has asserted that whilst the arrival of the crusaders may have triggered a revival in the use of peace treaties in northern Syria, peace treaties and tributary payments were not introduced to the region's political elite by the Franks. Indeed, some of the amounts quoted as payments, particularly the sum of 20,000 dīnārs, matched precedents from the fifth/eleventh century. Additionally, practices surrounding tributary relationships in the decades preceding the Franks’ arrival provide a new background for similar arrangements in the early crusading period, which have generally been portrayed as a debilitating imposition on Aleppo in much of the modern historiography.

Between 442-3/1050-1 Aleppan rulers made simultaneous payments amounting to roughly 30,000 dīnārs annually to both the Byzantine Empire and the Fāṭimid Caliphate, well in excess of most of the amounts quoted for the early sixth/twelfth century. Additionally, when Riḍwān b. Tutush died on 28 Jumādā II 507/10 December 1113, he supposedly left a treasury of 600,000 dīnārs in different items.Footnote 132 Although there is a need to view these figures with some caution, how was Riḍwān able to accrue such a fortune during his reign if Aleppo was seriously suffering from the burden imposed by the tributary payments? Furthermore, Ibn al-ʿAdīm claimed that the daily revenue of Aleppo in the late 470/1080 s and early 480 s/1090 s totalled 1,500 dīnārs a day, amounting to an annual figure of over 500,000 dīnārs.Footnote 133 Although these tribute payments were reflective of the wider political reality of Antiochene dominance over their Aleppan rivals, it is not clear that the tributary agreements imposed upon Aleppo by the rulers of Antioch in the early sixth/twelfth had a significant impact upon Aleppan finances.Footnote 134

The assertion that the Franks of Antioch were able to mandate an annual tribute in the early sixth/twelfth century has also been called into question. Although there are discrepancies in the source material, it is probable that the diplomatic agreements made between the rulers of Antioch and Aleppo in the early crusading period were the product of constant renegotiation, and were heavily influenced by the political context at the time in which they were negotiated. The flexible nature of these discussions subsequently enabled Frankish rulers of Antioch to later demand territorial concessions and condominia agreements, a practice that they seemingly did introduce into the region and one which played a significant role in weakening Aleppo in the period between Riḍwān's death in 507/1113 and Aqsunqur al-Bursuqī's occupation of the city in 518/1125.

Conclusion

Northern Syrian diplomacy during this period encompassed a wide range of practices and activities, of which just two occasionally inter-connected processes, the ransom of high-ranking captives and peace treaties, are analysed in this article. The introduction of Frankish potentates to northern Syria from 490/1097 onwards saw the adaptation and introduction of some novel diplomatic practices in the region, but, in the main, fifth/eleventh century conventions survived the violent upheaval occasioned by successive incursions by the Seljūqs and the armies of the First Crusade.

In terms of the treatment of prominent captives, continuity can be found in the repeated examples of high-ranking prisoners facilitating advantageous alliances and peace settlements that bridged ethnic or ideological divides. However, there is also evidence that prominent prisoners of Frankish heritage were ransomed at both an increased rate and for larger sums of money in the early years of sixth/twelfth century when compared to other ethnic groups operating in the region. This suggests that Frankish captives were perceived as possessing greater financial value than their Byzantine, Fāṭimid and Seljūq predecessors and rivals, whilst also indicating that the arrival of the Franks had a substantive impact upon this form of diplomacy in northern Syria.

In relation to peace treaties and tributary relationships, many of the existing Syrian, Byzantine and Fāṭimid precedents from the late fifth/eleventh, including some of the figures quoted for tributary agreements, continued to be employed during the early sixth/twelfth century in the treaties negotiated by the newly established Frankish potentates. This article has also built upon Köhler's research on condominia agreements, arguing that they represented a far more effective tool for weakening Aleppo between the years 510-22/1116-28 than the earlier tributary payments.

The repeated use of captives to forge cross-cultural alliances, coupled with the complexities and nuances surrounding tributary agreements outlined above, are demonstrative of the malleable power dynamics that were a constant feature of the political world of northern Syria between 442-522/1050-1128. Throughout the entirety of this period, military elites operating in the region were able to engage in diplomatic activity, which blurred the lines between allies and enemies, or client rulers and autonomous rulers, necessitating adaptable and idiosyncratic interpretations and analysis.

Footnotes

The original version of this article was published with an error in the title. A notice detailing this has been published and the error rectified in the online and print PDF and HTML copies.

*

I would like to thank Dr Thomas Asbridge for his help and advice in preparing this article, in addition to the anonymous reviewers for their insightful comments.

References

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5 All the monetary figures discussed in this article are subject to methodological issues outlined by Friedman concerning the changing values of the circulating currencies throughout this period, the risk that the quoted figures were literary tropes and potential discrepancies between the numbers quoted in the chronicles and the amounts that were actually paid. Although Friedman's research focused on captives and the figures involved in ransom payments, similar caution should also be applied to the figures provided for tributary arrangements in the source material, see Friedman, Yvonne, Encounter between Enemies: Captivity and Ransom in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem (Leiden, 2002), pp. 148-155CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

6 There are numerous Arabic terms employed by the chroniclers to designate the monetary payments involved in the release of prisoners from captivity. In addition to ransom “fidaʾ”, the terms to offer “badhala”, to purchase “ishtara” and to settle “ishtaqarra” are employed by the medieval Arabic chroniclers whilst describing the ransom of prisoners.

7 For a summary of the examples discussed in this article of the capture and ransom of prominent political and military captives in Syria between 442-522/1050-1128, see Table 1.

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10 Hillenbrand, Crusades, pp. 552-556.

11 Carole Hillenbrand, ‘What's in a name? Tughtegin: “the Minister of the Antichrist”?’, in Fortresses of the Intellect: Ismaili and Other Islamic Studies in Honour of Farhad Daftary, (ed.) Omar Alí-de-Unzaga (London, 2011), pp. 459-471. Morton and Mallett have also analysed Walter the Chancellor's account of his time in captivity under Il-Ghāzī (d. 516/1122) and Ṭughtegīn following the battle of the Field of Blood in 513/1119: see Nicholas Morton, ‘Walter the Chancellor on Ilghazi and Tughtakin: a prisoner's perspective’, Journal of Medieval History 44, 2 (2018), pp. 170-186; Alex Mallett, ‘The “Other” in the Crusading Period: Walter the Chancellor's Presentation of Najm al-Dīn Il-Ghāzī’, Al-Masāq 22, 2 (2010), pp. 113-128.

12 Asbridge, Thomas, ‘How the Crusades could have been won: King Baldwin II of Jerusalem's campaigns against Aleppo 1124-5 and Damascus 1129’, Journal of Medieval Military History 11 (2013), pp. 73-93Google Scholar.

13 Ramaḍān, ‘The treatment of Arab Prisoners’, pp. 155-194; Wierzbiński, ‘Prospective gain or actual cost?’, pp. 253–283.

14 Ibn al-Jawzī and Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī reported the ransom figure as 1,500,000 dīnārs, in addition to an annual tribute of 360,000 dīnārs and the surrender of key settlements on Byzantium's eastern frontier. Bar Habraeus (d. 685/1286), who claimed that his account was influenced by two unspecified manuscripts, one in Arabic and one in Persian, gave a different ransom figure of 10,000 dīnārs, but corroborated Ibn-Jawzī and Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī by noting that Romanos also committed to pay the same yearly tribute of 360,000 dīnārs and surrender the same settlements. ʿAbd al-Raḥmān Ibn al-Jawzī, al-Muntaam fī taʾrīkh al-mulūk waʾl-umam, (ed.) Muḥammad A. Ata et al. (Beirut, 1992), XVI, pp. 125-126; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XII, p. 484; Bar Habraeus, The Chronography of Gregory Abul Taraj Commonly Known as Bar Hebraeus, (trans.) Ernest A. Wallis Budge, vol. I (London, 1932), p. 222; Abū Yaʾlā Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, (ed.) Suhayl Zakkar (Damascus, 1983), pp. 167-168; Muḥammad b. ʿAlī al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, (ed.) Ibrāhīm Zaʾrur (Damascus, 1984), p. 348; ʿIzz al-Dīn ʿAlī Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, (ed.) Carolus J. Tornberg, vols. I–XII (Beirut, 1965-7), X, pp. 65-68; Michael the Syrian, The Syriac Chronicle of Michael Rabo (the Great): a universal history from the Creation (trans.) Matti Moosa (Teaneck, 2014), pp. 610-611; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, tenth to twelfth centuries: the chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, translation Ara E. Dostourian (Larnham, 1993), pp. 133-136. For more on the battle of Manzikert and the ransom of the Byzantine Emperor Romanos Diogenes IV, see Hillenbrand, Carole, Turkish Myth and Symbol: The Battle of Manzikert (Edinburgh, 2007)Google Scholar; Cheynet, Jean-Claude, ‘Manzikert: un désastre militaire?’, Byzantion 50 (1980), pp. 410-438Google Scholar; Speros Vryonis, ‘The Greek and the Arabic sources on the eight-day captivity of the emperor Romanus IV in the camp of the Sultan Alp Arslān after the battle of Manzikert’, in Novum Milennium. Studies on Byzantine history and culture dedicated to Paul Speck, (eds.) Claudia Sode and Sarolta Takács (Aldershot 2000), pp. 439-450.

15 The figure given for Isaac Komnenos's ransom was 20,000 nomismata. Isaac Komnenos, who whilst serving as Dux of Antioch, was captured after leading a sortie from the town against Türkmen forces. The ransom was reportedly paid by the inhabitants of Antioch. Some corroboration can be found in Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī's chronicle, who made note of a Türkmen attack on Antioch in 467/1075 and a payment of 20,000 dīnārs to the Türkmen by the inhabitants of the town, but made no reference to the capture and ransom of Isaac Komnenos. No figure is provided for Roussel de Bailliol, although the accounts of this latter episode by Alexios's daughter Anna Komnene and Nikephoros Byrennios make it clear that the agreed upon figure was not paid in full. See Nikephoros Byrennios, Nicephori Byrennii Historiarum libri quattuor translation Paul Gautier (Brussels, 1975), pp. 186-188, 204-206; Anna Komnene, The Alexiad, translation E. R. A. Sewter, (rev.) Peter Frankopan (London, 2009), pp. 10-15, 262; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, pp. 72-73; Cécile Morrisson and Jean-Claude Cheynet, ‘Prices and Wages in the Byzantine World’, in The Economic History of Byzantium: From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century, (ed.) Angeliki E. Laiou (Washington D.C., 2002), pp. 815-878, 845; Beihammer, Byzantium, pp. 207-215. For more detail on the various Türkmen groups operating in Anatolia during the latter half of the fifth/eleventh century and their relationship with the Byzantines and Seljūqs, see Alexander Beihammer, ‘Patterns of Turkish Migration and Expansion in Byzantine Asia Minor in the 11th and 12th Centuries’, in Migration Histories of the Medieval Afroeurasion Transition Zone, (eds.) Johannes Preiser-Kapeller, Lucian Reinfandt and Yannis Stouraitis (Leiden, 2020), pp. 166-192; Andrew C. S. Peacock, ‘From the Balkhān-Kūhīyān to the Nāwakīya: Nomadic Politics and the Foundation of Seljūq Rule in Anatolia’, in Nomad Aristocracies in a World of Empires, (ed.) Jürgen Paul (Wiesbaden, 2013), pp. 55-80; Beihammer, Byzantium, pp. 49-303; Peacock, Seljuk Empire, pp. 22-32.

16 Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 28. See, also, Alexander Beihammer, ‘Changing Strategies and Ideological Concepts in Byzantine-Arab Relations in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’, in Ambassadors, Artists, Theologians Byzantine Relations with the Near East from the Ninth to the Thirteenth Centuries, (eds.) Zachary Chitwood and Johannes Pahlitzsch (Mainz, 2019), pp. 85-100, 86-87.

17 Simeonova, Liliana, ‘In the depths of tenth-century Byzantine ceremonial: the treatment of Arab prisoners of war at imperial banquets’, Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 22 (1998), pp. 75-104CrossRefGoogle Scholar; Beihammer, ‘Muslim Rulers Visiting the Imperial City’, pp. 157-177. As Kosto has detailed, in the Middle ages there was a distinction between captives, typically detained during or following military engagements, and hostages, who were often depicted as being “given” to their captors, “even when compulsion is evident”. See Adam Kosto, Hostages in the Middle Ages (Oxford, 2012), pp. 1-23, 114-121, 166-170; Adam Kosto, ‘Hostages during the First Century of the Crusades’, Medieval Encounters 9, 1 (2003), pp. 3-31. In the medieval Arabic historiography, a distinction is usually drawn between a “captive” (asīr) and a “hostage” (rahīna).

18 Yaḥyā b. Saʿīd al-Anṭākī, Tāʾrīkh al-Anṭākī, (ed.) Umar A. Tadmuri (Tripoli, 1990), p. 322.

19 Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XII, pp. 449-450.

20 This included a battle at Artāḥ in 454/1062, two skirmishes during Romanos Diogenes IV's 461/1068-9 campaign into northern Syria, another minor engagement at Maʿrrat Miṣrīn in 463/1071 and direct Mirdāsid attacks upon the town of Antioch and the surrounding area in 457/1064-5, 462/1070 and 469/1076-7. Al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, pp. 347-348; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XII, pp. 398-399, 461-462, 481-485, XIII, p. 105; Kamāl al-Dīn Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab fī taʾrīkh ḥalab, (ed.) Sami Dahan, volume I-III (Damascus, 1951-4), I, pp. 286-287, 296, II, p. 13-14, 24-27, 56; Michael Attaleiates, The History, transdlation Anthony Kaldellis and Dimitris Krallis (Cambridge, MA, 2012), pp. 275-303; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, pp. 132-136.

21 Tāj al-Dīn Ibn Muyassar, Akhbār Miṣr, (ed.) Ayman F. Sayyid (Cairo, 1981), pp. 13-14; Taqī al-Dīn al-Maqrīzī, Ittiʾāẓ al-ḥunafāʾ bi-akhbār al-aʾimma al-fātimiyyīn al-khulafāʾ, (ed.) Muḥammad H. M. Ahmad, vols. II-III (Cairo, 1996), II, pp. 227-231.

22 Al-Maqrīzī, Ittiʾāẓ al-ḥunafāʾ, pp. 227-231.

23 Al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 343; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, I, pp. 274; al-Maqrīzī, Ittiʾāẓ al-ḥunafāʾ, II, p. 235.

24 Rifq, the Fāṭimid commander of the 441/1049 campaign was captured and taken to Aleppo, but subsequently died from injuries sustained during the expedition. Al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, pp. 338-340; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XII, pp. 232-233; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, I, pp. 251-260, 263-266; Ibn Muyassar, Akhbār Miṣr, pp. 6-7, 9-10; al-Maqrīzī, Ittiʾāẓ al-ḥunafāʾ, II, pp. 201-202, 208-210. For more detail, see Zakkar, Emirate, pp. 131-137, 141-148.

25 Al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 344; Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 150-151; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 12; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XII, pp. 377-379; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, I, pp. 276-280; Ibn Muyassar, Akhbār Miṣr, pp. 21-22; al-Maqrīzī, Ittiʾāẓ al-ḥunafāʾ, II, pp. 259-261.

26 Between the years 460-8/1067-76 Egypt was plunged into an extended period of civil war, after which the Fāṭimids prioritised expanding their influence into the Red Sea region and retaining control of the key mercantile hubs of Acre, Tyre and Tripoli along the Palestinian coastline. See Bramoullé, ‘Les villes maritimes fatimides’, pp. 93-116; David Bramoullé, ‘The Fatimids and the Red Sea (969-1171)’, in Navigated Spaces, Connected Places, (eds.) Dionisius Agius, John Cooper, Athena Trakadas and Chiara Zazzaro (Oxford, 2012), pp.127-136; Brett, Fatimid Empire, pp. 181-232.

27 Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, pp. 66-67, 72; Ibn Muyassar, Akhbār Miṣr, p. 41; al-Maqrīzī, Ittiʾāẓ al-ḥunafāʾ, II, p. 314. See, also, Beihammer, Byzantium, pp. 185-188.

28 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, p. 192; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh Ḥalab, p. 353; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 139-141; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, p. 165; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 91-92.

29 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 194-195, 211-212; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh Ḥalab, pp. 353-354; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 147-148, 244-245; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, pp. 182, 235-236; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 96-98, 118-119.

30 Peacock, Seljuk Empire, pp. 68-71, 126-132, 228-235; Lambton, Ann K. S., ‘The Internal Structure of the Saljuq Empire’ in, The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. V: The Saljuq and Mongol Periods, (ed.) Boyle, John A. (Cambridge, 1968), pp. 203-282, 218Google Scholar; Hillenbrand, The Crusades, pp. 33-42, 515-516, 518-521; Heidemann, Die Renaissance der Städte, pp. 310-315; Nicolle, David, Arms and Armour of the Crusading Era, 1050-1350: Islam, Eastern Europe and Asia (London, 1999), II, p. 102Google Scholar.

31 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 182-183; ʿAlī ibn al-Ḥasan Ibn ʿAsākir, Taʾrikh madīnat Dimashq, (ed.) ʿUbyad Gh. Al-ʿAmrawī, volumes I-LXXX (Beirut, 1995-8), VII, pp. 348-349; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 111; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, pp. 119-120; Aḥmad b. Muḥammad Ibn Khallikān, Kitāb Wafāyāt al-aʾ yān wa anbā abnā al-zamān, (ed.) Iḥsān Abbas (Beirut, 1997), I, p. 195.

32 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 207-208; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 356; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 232-233; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, p. 226; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 110-113; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, pp. 161-162.

33 There are various different versions of the events following this battle. According to Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Aqsunqur was briefly kept alive as a captive, whilst Buzān and Kerbogha managed to escape the battlefield and attempt an unsuccessful defence of Aleppo. Most of the other Arabic sources agree that Tutush killed Aqsunqur on the battlefield and according to Ibn Wāṣil, Tutush brought his decapitated head with him to Aleppo. Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 232-234; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, p. 226; Kamāl al-Dīn Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Bughyat al-ṭalab fī tāʾrīkh ḥalab, (ed.) Suhayl Zakkar (Beirut, 1988), IV, pp. 1956-7; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, p. 118; Jamāl al-Dīn Ibn Wāṣil, Mufarrij al-kurūb fī akhbār banī Ayyūb, edited by Jamāl El-Shayyal (Cairo, 1953), vol. 1, p. 26.

34 Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī is the only source who stated that Tutush “flung” Buzan's head over the walls of Edessa during the siege. Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, p. 226. Ibn al-ʿAdīm claimed that Zengī employed a similar tactic during an unsuccessful siege of Homs in 524/530. Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Bughyat al-ṭalab, VIII, p. 3847.

35 The alliance between Aqsunqur, Buzān and Berkyaruq against Tutush in the aftermath of Malik Shāh's death in 485/1092 is discussed below in reference to Kerbogha. For Atsiz's ties to Malik Shāh, see El-Azhari, Saljūqs, pp. 34-50; Beihammer, Byzantium, pp. 179-88; Peacock, Seljuk Empire, pp. 61-64, 128-129.

36 For more detail on the nomadic Türkmen tribal group, the Nāwakīya, see Peacock, ‘From the Balkhān-Kūhīyān to the Nāwakīya’, pp. 64-76; Beihammer, Byzantium, pp. 183, 205.

37 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 174-175, 181-183; Ibn ʿAsākir, Taʾrikh madīnat Dimashq, VII, pp. 348-349.

38 Ibn al-Athīr claimed that Berkyaruq simply ordered the release of Kerbogha without a prisoner exchange, but Ibn al-ʿAdīm (d. 660/1262) wrote that Berkyaruq released Ṭughtegīn and “a group of people…from among the entourage of Tāj al-Dawla (Tutush)”, in exchange for “Kerbogha and a group of people with him”. Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 232-233, 258; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 110-113, 121-122.

39 Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 258.

40 This was partly a consequence of the political and social milieus Usāma b. Munqidh inhabited in the course of a career which saw him pass through the court of nearly every single major Muslim power in the near east, see R. Stephen Humphreys, ‘Munḳidh’, in Encyclopaedia of Islam: Second Edition, (eds.) Peri Bearman, Thierry Bianquis, Clifford E. Bosworth, Emeri van Donzel, Wolfhart P. Heinrichs (2012) (first accessed online: 10 July 2017); Cobb, Paul, Usama Ibn Munqidh: Warrior-Poet of the Age of the Crusades (London, 2005)Google Scholar.

41 Ibn al-Athīr is the only Arabic historian who provides details of the settlement that enabled Bohemond's release. Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 223-224; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 360; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 300, 345; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, pp. 269-270; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 145-146; Ralph of Caen, ‘Gesta Tancredi in Expeditione Hierosolymitana’, in Recueil des historiens des croisades, Historiens occidentaux, volume III (Paris, 1866), pp. 704-705, 712; Ralph of Caen, The Gesta Tancredi of Ralph of Caen, edited and translated by Bernard S. Bachrach and David S. Bachrach (Farnham, 2005), pp. 156-157, 167; Albert of Aachen, Historia Hierosolymitana, translation Susan B. Edgington (Oxford, 2007), pp. 524-527; Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcheri carnoetensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, (ed.) Heinrich Hagenmeyer (Heidelberg, 1913), pp. 343-349, 457-460; Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the expedition to Jerusalem, edited and translated by F. R. Ryan and H. S. Fink (New York, 1973), pp. 134-136, 175; Michael the Syrian, The Syriac Chronicle, p. 622; Bar Habraeus, Chronography, p. 237.

42 According to Morrisson and Cheynet, one dīnār was roughly equivalent to one Byzantine nomisma prior to 485/1092, see Morrisson and Cheynet, ‘Prices and Wages in the Byzantine World’, pp. 816-817.

43 Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, pp. 191-192.

44 Michael the Syrian, The Syriac Chronicle, p. 710; Bar Habraeus, Chronography, p. 305; Friedman, Encounter between Enemies, pp. 151-160.

45 Michael the Syrian asserted that “people” from Tell Bāshir offered themselves as hostages for Joscelyn, and that the hostages later escaped, meaning that Joscelyn ultimately paid no ransom. The Anonymous Syriac Chronicle wrote that Joscelyn's initial ransom was set at 12,000 dīnārs, which required 12 hostages, who the author also claimed escaped. Usāma b. Munqidh, stated that Joscelyn was released without paying a ransom in exchange for an alliance against the rulers of Antioch and Aleppo. Usāma b. Munqidh b. ʿAlī, Lubāb al-Ādāb, (ed.) Aḥmed M. Shākir (Beirut, 1935), pp. 133-134; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 460; Michael the Syrian, The Syriac Chronicle, pp. 626-627, 638-639; Anonymous Syriac Chronicle, pt. 1: ‘The First and Second Crusades from an Anonymous Syriac Chronicle’, translation A. S. Tritton and Hamilton A. R. Gibb, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 65 (1933), pp. 69-101, 80-82; Ralph of Caen, ‘Gesta Tancredi in Expeditione Hierosolymitana’, pp. 710-11; Ralph of Caen, The Gesta Tancredi of Ralph of Caen, pp. 164-6; Albert of Aachen, Historia Hierosolymitana, pp. 750-755; Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcheri carnoetensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, pp. 468-481; Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the expedition to Jerusalem, pp. 177-181; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, p. 201.

46 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 147-148.

47 Usāma b. Munqidh b. ʿAlī, Kitāb al-Iʾtibār, (ed.) Phillip K. Hitti (Princeton, 1930), pp. 65-67; Usāma b. Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation Islam and the Crusades, translation Paul M. Cobb (London, 2008), pp. 77-79. Ibn al-Athīr reported that another Arab ruler of Aleppo and Mosul, Shraf al-Dawla Muslim b. Quraysh of the ʿUqaylid dynasty, sent a racing horse to the Seljūq Sultan Malik Shāh as part of a diplomatic charm offensive in 477/1084. Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 136-137.

48 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, p. 274.

49 Al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 361; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 145-146. For more detail on Ibn al-Mawṣul's career, see Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, p. 427.

50 Another similar example occurred in 524-5/1130-1, when Zenkī (d. 541/1146) took Sawinj (d. 528/1134), son of Būrī (d. 526/1132), the ruler of Damascus captive, and demanded a payment of 50,000 dīnārs to release him. Although Būrī reportedly agreed to pay this sum, the two parties later negotiated a prisoner exchange. Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 361-362, 367; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, pp. 383-384; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 246-249.

51 Friedman, Encounter between Enemies, pp. 148-157.

52 Friedman, Encounter between Enemies, pp. 75-81.

53 Although Köhler has discussed Baldwin II's release in detail, he attributed it to the specific political conditions in Syria following the death of Tutush in 488/1095, rather than a broader feature of Syrian diplomatic practices throughout the late fifth/eleventh and early sixth/twelfth centuries. See Köhler, Alliances and Treaties, pp. 59-66.

54 Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 373-375.

55 Asbridge, Creation, pp. 112-114.

56 At first, Ibn al-Athīr claimed that Baldwin paid a ransom of 35 dīnārs in addition to releasing 160 Muslim captives in the aftermath of the battle. This figure is probably an error. 35,000 dīnārs would be closer to the regional norms for a person of his stature, and be more consistent with the figures quoted in the Syriac and Armenian sources discussed below. Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 375.

57 Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 460, 464-466.

58 For more detail on the broad definitions of khidma in the medieval Islamic world, see Michael Chamberlain, Knowledge and Social Power in Medieval Damascus (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 116-118. For khidma in a Seljūq context, see Peacock, Seljuk Empire, p. 158; Paul, Jürgen, ‘Khidma in the Social History of Pre-Mongol Iran’, Journal of Economic and Social History of the Orient 57 (2014), pp. 392-422, 408-411CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

59 Michael the Syrian claimed that Jawlī initially wanted a ransom of 70,000 dīnārs for Baldwin, but ultimately accepted 30,000 dīnārs in addition to Joscelyn as a hostage, before later releasing Joscelyn without receiving further payment. Michael the Syrian also partially corroborated Ibn al-Athīr's account by describing alliances between Riḍwān and Tancred against Jawlī and Josceyln, and the defeat of the latter coalition in battle. Matthew of Edessa also mentioned the sum of “30,000 dahekans”, and whilst Usāma b. Munqidh corroborated Ibn al-Athīr's assertion that the Banū ʿUqayl were involved in negotiating Baldwin's release in 502/1108, he wrote that Jawlī decided to grant Baldwin his freedom without a ransom payment, despite initially contemplating demanding a ransom of 100,000 dīnārs. Michael the Syrian, The Syriac Chronicle, pp. 626-627, 638-639; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, pp. 193, 201; Anonymous Syriac Chronicle, ‘The First and Second Crusades’, p. 81; Usāma b. Munqidh, Lubāb al-Ādāb, pp. 133-134; Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcheri carnoetensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, pp. 468-481; Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the expedition to Jerusalem, pp. 177-81; William of Tyre, Willelmi Tyremsos archiepiscopi Chronicon, (ed.) Robert B. C. Huygens, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 63-63a (Turnhout, 1986), 63: pp. 506-507; William of Tyre, William of Tyre a history of deeds done beyond the sea, edited and translated by Emily A. Babcock and August C. Krey (New York, 1976), II, pp. 474-475. See Kosto, ‘Hostages during the First Century of the Crusades’, pp. 17-21; Kosto, Hostages in the Middle Ages, pp. 114-121, 166-170. For more detail on the Banū ʿUqayl of Qalʿat Jaʿbar, see Heidemann, Stefan, ‘Arab nomads and the Seljūq military’, in Shifts and Drifts in Nomad-Sedentary Relations, (eds.) Stefan Leder and Bernard Streck (Weisbaden, 2005), pp. 289-305, 296-297Google Scholar; Heidemann, Die Renaissance der Städte, pp. 266-270.

60 For more discussion on the relationship between Antioch, Edessa and the ‘co-fraternity’ of the Franks at this juncture, see Asbridge, Creation, pp. 104-111; Christopher MacEvitt, The Crusades and the Christian World of the East: Rough Tolerance (Philadelphia, 2008), pp. 56-57, 86.

61 Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 422-424.

62 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, p. 330; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 372; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 593; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, p. 427; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 205-206; Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcheri carnoetensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, pp. 651-653; Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the expedition to Jerusalem, p. 237; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, pp. 228-229.

63 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, p. 333; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, pp. 371-372; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 614; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, pp. 427-428; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 210-212; Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcheri carnoetensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, pp. 676-690; Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the expedition to Jerusalem, pp. 248-255.

64 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, p. 332; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 372; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 614; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, pp. 427-428; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 210-212, 217; Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcheri carnoetensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, pp. 690-693; Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the expedition to Jerusalem, pp. 252-255.

65 Al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 374; Usāma b. Munqidh b.ʿAlī, Kitāb al-Iʾtibār, pp. 120-121; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 221-222; Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcheri carnoetensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, pp. 749-756; Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the expedition to Jerusalem, pp. 272-275; William of Tyre, Chronicon, 63: 569-570, 603-606; William of Tyre, A history of deeds, II, pp. 21-22; Michael the Syrian, The Syriac Chronicle, pp. 635-636, 643; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, pp. 232-233.

66 For more information on the circumstances surrounding Baldwin II's release, and his subsequent siege of Aleppo, see Asbridge, ‘How the Crusades could have been won’, pp. 77-81: Kosto, ‘Hostages during the First Century of the Crusades’, pp. 17-21; Kosto, Hostages in the Middle Ages, pp. 114-121, 166-170; Jordan, Erin L., ‘Hostage, Sister, Abbess: The Life of Ivetta of Jerusalem’, Medieval Prosopography 32 (2017), pp. 66-86Google Scholar.

67 This would make the total ransom figure 100,000 dīnārs. Ibn al-ʿAdīm's account is partially supported by William of Tyre, who asserted that Baldwin “paid his ransom” with an unspecified “large sum of money” which was “collected in part” from the “spoils” gained from a victory over Aqsunqur al-Bursuqī's forces at the battle of ʿAzāz in 519/1125. Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 230-231; Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcheri carnoetensis, Historia Hierosolymitana, pp. 770-1; Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the expedition to Jerusalem, p. 281; William of Tyre, Chronicon, 63: 603-606; William of Tyre, A history of deeds II, p. 25; Kosto, Hostages in the Middle Ages, p. 167.

68 Yvonne Friedman, ‘Gestures of conciliation: Peacemaking Endeavors in the Latin East’, in In laudem Hierosolymitani: Studies in Crusades and Medieval Culture In Honour of Benjamin Z. Kedar, (eds.) Iris Shagrir, Ronnie Ellenblum and Jonathan Riley-Smith (Aldershot, 2007), pp. 31-48. The only comparable example in this period was the ransom of Roussel de Bailliol in the late fifth/eleventh century discussed above, as Alexios Komnenos only paid part of the required amount upfront.

69 Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 102-103.

70 Ayāz b. Il-Ghāzī, was subsequently killed during the 509/1115 campaign into the region by the sultan's army. It is not clear if this was the same son of Il-Ghāzī who had been used as a hostage by Aqsunqur al-Bursuqī earlier that same year. Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, p. 305; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 503-504; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XII, p. 354.

71 It is not clear what happened to the unnamed Frankish prisoner after the refusal of the initial offer. Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 344.

72 Hillenbrand and Morton have discussed Ṭughtegīn's treatment of captives in detail, see Hillenbrand, ‘What's in a name? Tughtegin’, pp. 459-471; Morton, ‘Walter the Chancellor on Ilghazi and Tughtakin’, pp. 179-185.

73 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 257-258; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 467; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, pp. 317-318.

74 Nāsir al-Dīn Muhammad Ibn al-Furāt, Taʾrīkh al-duwal wa'l mulūk, edited and translated Ursula Lyons and Malcolm C. Lyons as Ayyubids, Mamlukes and Crusaders (Cambridge, 1971), I, pp. 45-46; Hillenbrand, Crusades, p. 552. The Latin chronicler Albert of Aachen was the earliest source to report in detail on Ṭughtegīn's brutal killing of Gervase. Albert of Aachen, Historia Hierosolymitana, pp. 768-771.

75 Walter the Chancellor, Galterii Cancelarii bella antiochena, (ed.) Heinrich Hagenmeyer (Innsbruck, 1896), pp. 107-109; Walter the Chancellor, Walter the Chancellor's The Antiochene Wars: A Translation and Commentary, edited and translated by Thomas Asbridge and Susan B. Edgington (Brookfield VT, 1999), pp. 159-161.

76 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 192-193.

77 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 481-482; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, XI, p. 155; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, p. 311; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, pp. 258, 270.

78 Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, pp. 137-139.

79 According to various sources, Philaretos converted to Islam in around 478/1085, see Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 138-139; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, p. 131; Anna Komnene, Alexiad, pp. 169-170; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, pp. 152-153; Michael the Syrian, The Syriac Chronicle, p. 676. For more detail on Philaretos's career, see Yarnley, C. J., ‘Philaretos: Armenian Bandit or Byzantine General?’, Revue des études arméniennes 9 (1972), pp. 331353Google Scholar; Beihammer, Alexander D., ‘Defection across the Border of Islam and Christianity: Apostasy and Cross-Cultural Interaction in Byzantine-Seljuk Relations’, Speculum 86 (2011), pp. 597-651CrossRefGoogle Scholar; Beihammer, Byzantium, pp. 285-295.

80 Usāma b. Munqidh, Kitāb al-Iʾtibār, p. 120; Usāma b. Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, pp. 131-132.

81 Türkmen groups were not an official component of the Seljūq military structure. For the distinction between Türkmen groups and the Seljūq military, see David Durand-Guédy, ‘Goodbye to the Türkmen? The Military Role of Nomads in Iran after the Saljuq Conquest’, in Nomadic Military Power: Iran and the Adjacent Areas in the Islamic Period, (eds.) Kurt Franz and Wolfgang Holzwarth (Wiesbaden, 2015), pp. 107-136; Peacock, Seljuk Empire, pp. 221-225.

82 Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XII, p. 254.

83 Türkmen raiders targeted northern Syria in the years 457/1064-5, 460/1067-8, 461/1069-70, 467/1075 and 472/1079, see al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, pp. 345-346; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XII, p. 345, XII, pp. 72-73, 120; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, I, pp. 294-297, II, p. 9, 11-13, 16, 56, 67; Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades, p. 125, 143-144; Michael Attaleiates, The History, pp. 173-174, 215-219. See also: Zakkar, Emirate, pp. 166-168; Beihammer, Byzantium, pp. 110-111, 117-121, 144, 186-188.

84 Any Türkmen raiding of the areas surrounding Aleppo and Damascus therefore risked alienating potential allies. Türkmen groups did conduct raids in the region of Aleppo during the 505/1111 campaign ordered by the Sultan Muḥammad (r. 498-512/1105-18) and in Antiochene territory in the aftermath of the battle of the Field of Blood in 513/1119. For more detail on the frontiers of the Principality of Antioch in the sixth/twelfth century, see Asbridge, Creation, pp. 47-62, 65-67, 69-91; Asbridge, ‘The ‘Crusader’ community at Antioch’, pp. 305-325; Thomas S. Asbridge, ‘The significance and causes of the battle of the Field of Blood’, Journal of Medieval History 24, 3 (1997), pp. 301-316; Andrew D. Buck, The Principality of Antioch and its frontiers in the twelfth century (Woodbridge, 2017), pp. 1-20, 164-88; Andrew D. Buck, ‘The Castle and Lordship of Ḥarīm and the Frankish-Muslim Frontier of Northern Syria in the Twelfth Century’, al-Masāq 28, 2 (2016), pp. 113-131.

85 Friedman, Encounter between Enemies, pp. 147-160.

86 Asbridge, Creation, pp. 47-62, 65-67, 69-91; Asbridge, ‘The ‘Crusader’ community at Antioch’, pp. 305-325; Köhler, Alliances and Treaties, pp. 59-126, 312-320.

87 Friedman has identified over 100 treaties that were negotiated in the near 200-year history of the Latin east. Friedman, ‘Peacemaking: Perceptions and Practices in the Medieval Latin East’, pp. 229-257; Yvonne Friedman, ‘How to end Holy War: Negotiations and peace treaties between Muslims and crusaders in the Latin East’, Common Knowledge 21, 1 (2014), pp. 83-103; Frenkel, ‘Muslim responses to the Frankish Dominion in the Near East, 1098-1291’, pp. 27-54; Dajani-Shakeel, ‘Diplomatic Relations between Muslim and Frankish Rulers’, pp. 190-215; Elisséeff, ‘The Reaction of the Syrian Muslims’, pp. 221-233.

88 A literal translation of “māl” would be money or funds. There is no uniform terminology for tributary relationships in the Arabic sources and they were often negotiated as a component part of peace treaties, although terms such as “treaty money” (māl al-hudna) or “the decided upon money” (al-māl al-muqarrar) were utilised in the medieval Arabic historiography.

89 In relation to the crusader studies, the term condominia was applied by Köhler to “munāṣafa” agreements. The term “munāṣafa” is typically translated as the practice of reciprocal property-sharing between two co-owners. See Köhler, Alliances and Treaties, pp. 312-320; M. A. Köhler, ‘Munāṣafa’ in Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, (eds.) Peri Bearman, Thierry Bianquis, Clifford E. Bosworth, Emeri van Donzel, Wolfhart P. Heinrichs (2012) (first accessed online: 19 March 2019).

90 For more information on the legal, cultural and theological basis on which Muslim and Latin Christian rulers approached the process of peace-making during the crusading period, see Yvonne Friedman, ‘Learning the religious concepts of the Other Muslim-Christian treaties in the Latin East’, in Religion and Peace: Historical Aspects, (ed.) Yvonne Friedman (London, 2017), pp. 67-83; Yehoshua Frenkel, ‘Islam as a peacemaking religion: Self-image, medieval theory, and practice’, in Religion and Peace: Historical Aspects, (ed.) Yvonne Friedman (London, 2017), pp. 84-97; Betty Binysh, ‘Making peace with “God's enemies” The Muslim dilemma of treaty-making with Christians in the medieval Levant’, in Religion and Peace: Historical Aspects, (ed.) Yvonne Friedman (London, 2017), pp. 98-114; Benham, J., Peacemaking in the Middle Ages: Principles and practice (Manchester, 2011)Google Scholar.

91 It should be noted that Köhler convincingly argued that condominia or munāṣafa agreements were imported to the Levant as a consequence of the crusades. Köhler, Alliances and Treaties, pp. 316-320.

92 The most obvious example is the relationship between Ṭughtegīn of Damascus and the Fāṭimids in the early sixth/twelfth century, see Köhler, Alliances and Treaties, pp. 88-90, 105-106; Brett, Fatimid Empire, pp. 233-236, 240-245, 256-257, 259.

93 There are divergent views on the chronology surrounding the decline of Fāṭimid and Byzantine power in the region, with the Seljūq Sultan Alp Arslān's campaign against Aleppo in 463/1071 seen as highly important in the work of Brett and Beihammer. For more detailed discussion, see Brett, Fatimid Empire, pp. 197-206; Beihammer, Byzantium, pp. 133-198, 244-265; James D. Wilson, ‘Diplomacy, warfare and conquest: the political world of bilad al-sham prior to and during the early Crusading period 442-522/1050-1128’ (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Queen Mary University of London, 2019), pp. 56-115.

94 Richard Fletcher, ‘Reconquest and Crusade in Spain c. 1050–1150’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 5, 37 (1987), pp. 31–47; Eduardo Manzano Moreno, ‘Christian-Muslim Frontier in Al-Andalus: Idea and Reality’, in The Arab Influence in Medieval Europe, (eds.) Dionisius Agius & Richard Hitchcock (Reading, 1994), pp. 83–99; O‘Callaghan, Joseph F., A History of Medieval Spain (London, 1975), pp. 130-134, 193-214Google Scholar; Wasserstein, David, The Rise and Fall of the Party-Kings: Politics and Society in Islamic Spain 1002-1086 (Princeton, NJ, 1985)Google Scholar; Fletcher, Richard A., Moorish Spain (London, 1992), pp. 79-130Google Scholar; Kennedy, Hugh, Muslim Spain and Portugal: a political history of al-Andalus (Harlow, 1996), pp. 130-154Google Scholar; Cobb, The Race for Paradise, pp. 60-65.

95 As Heidemann has outlined, the collapse of the ʿAbbāsid Empire in the fourth/tenth century resulted in the decline in value of the silver dirham to a “debased copperish coin with no regulated finance or weight” of comparable value to anonymous Byzantine copper coins that were imported into northern Syria between 359-485/970-1092. This resulted in payments involving silver dirhams being “transacted by weighing the coins”. Yaḥyā al-Anṭākī stated that the terms of the negotiated settlement stipulated that 60 dirhams would equate to one piece of gold, which corresponds with the conversion rate of 50-67 Byzantine copper coins per gold dīnār outlined by Heidemann. This would roughly equate to 8,333 gold dīnārs per year, a number close to the “8,000 pieces of gold” provided by Ibn al-ʿAdīm in his account of the agreement. See al-Anṭākī, Tāʾrīkh al-Anṭākī, p. 422; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, I, p. 247; Heidemann, Die Renaissance der Städte, pp. 355-435, 446-447; Stefan Heidemann, ‘Numismatics’, in The New Cambridge History of Islam Volume I, (ed.) Chase Robinson (Cambridge, 2010), pp. 648-779, 661.

96 al-Anṭākī, Tāʾrīkh al-Anṭākī, p. 435; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, I, p. 262-263, 268.

97 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, I, p. 267; al-Maqrīzī, Ittiʾāẓ al-ḥunafāʾ, II, p. 213. According to Heidemann, the Fāṭimid dinār was the dominant currency of exchange for large transactions in northern Syria throughout the fifth/eleventh century up to the Seljūq conquest. Heidemann, Die Renaissance der Städte, pp. 369-435, 446-447.

98 Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XII, pp. 449-450.

99 Beihammer, Byzantium, pp. 53, 57-61.

100 Fletcher, ‘Reconquest and Crusade’, pp. 31–47; Fletcher, Moorish Spain, pp. 79-130; Kennedy, Muslim Spain and Portugal, pp. 130-154.

101 Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XII, pp. 398-9; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, I, pp. 286-287.

102 Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, p. 105; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, I, p. 296, II, pp. 14-15, 56.

103 Al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 352. Only Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī mentioned the terms of the treaty: Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, p. 139.

104 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 95, 105.

105 Köhler, Alliances and treaties, pp. 59-126, 312-320; Asbridge, Creation, pp. 49-50, 90-91; Asbridge, ‘The ‘Crusader’ Community at Antioch’, pp. 318-319, 321-324.

106 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab fī taʾrīkh ḥalab, II, p. 148.

107 ʿIzz al-Dīn Ibn Shaddād, al-Aʿlāq al-khaṭīra fī dhikr umarāʾ al-Shām wa-l-Jazīra, I/1, (trans.) Dominique Sourdel, La description d'Alep d'Ibn Šaddād (Damascus, 1953), pp. 40-41; Köhler, Alliances and treaties, p. 64.

108 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, p. 251.

109 Asbridge, Creation, pp. 65-66.

110 Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 482.

111 An earlier date is given by Michael the Syrian, who claimed that Riḍwān of Aleppo paid the Franks 32,000 dīnārs in 500/1106. This would correspond chronologically with Ibn al-Qalānisī's reference to a peace treaty in the same year. However, when we consider that Michael made no reference to the later agreements, it is difficult to place too much credence in this entry. Michael the Syrian, The Syriac Chronicle, p. 639.

112 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 292-293.

113 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, p. 163.

114 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, p. 169.

115 Köhler, Alliances and treaties, pp. 64-64, 67-68, 102-103; Asbridge, Creation, p. 65.

116 Köhler, Alliances and treaties, 312-320; Köhler, ‘Munāṣafa’, in Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. On a related note, Heidemann conducted a detailed study of references within the chronicle of Ibn al-Qalānisī to “al-fissa”. Heidemann suggested “al-fissa” was derived from the middle Latin term “fossa”, and referred to as a specific component of the tributary payments made by Damascus to the Frankish Kingdom of Jerusalem between the years 526-49/1132-54. Stefan Heidemann, ‘Financing the tribute to the Kingdom of Jerusalem: An urban tax in Damascus’, Bulletin of SOAS 70, 1 (2007), pp. 117-142.

117 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 263-264; Köhler, Alliances and treaties, pp. 86-90; El-Azhari, Saljūqs, pp. 171-229.

118 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 264-265.

119 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 277-278.

120 Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, pp. 542-543.

121 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, p. 179.

122 Al-ʿAẓīmī only mentioned a vague “peace treaty”, the detail is provided by Ibn al-ʿAdīm. Al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 368; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, p. 181.

123 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, p. 322; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 370; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, p. 196.

124 Asbridge, Creation, pp. 81-82.

125 Köhler referred to the sharing by halves of taxes of several border region between Antioch and Aleppo in his entry on munāṣafa in the Encyclopaedia of Islam. See Köhler, Alliances and treaties, pp. 111-115; Köhler, “Munāṣafa” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition.

126 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, p. 199.

127 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, p. 331; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 372; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 610; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, p. 210.

128 Köhler, Alliances and treaties, p. 112.

129 For detailed analysis of Baldwin II's siege of Aleppo in 518/1124-5 and the vulnerability of Aleppo at this time, see Asbridge, ‘How the Crusades could have been won’, pp. 73-93.

130 Al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 375; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 231-232.

131 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, pp. 231-232.

132 Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl taʾrīkh Dimashq, pp. 301-303; al-ʿAẓīmī, Taʾrīkh ḥalab, p. 366; Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fi'l taʾrīkh, X, p. 499; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Miʾrāt al-zamān, XIII, p. 347-348; Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Zubdat al-ḥalab, II, p. 164, 168-171. The use of the common formulaic qualifier of “it is said” in most of these sources indicated that they were not certain of the veracity of the information.

133 Ibn al-ʿAdīm, Bughyat al-ṭalab, IV, p. 1956.

134 With the exceptions of the aftermaths of the defeats suffered by Antiochene forces at Harran in 497/1104 and the battle of the Field of Blood in 513/1119, the rulers of Antioch enjoyed a dominant military and diplomatic relationship with Aleppo. For more detail, see Asbridge, Creation, pp. 47-62, 65-67, 69-91; Asbridge, ‘The ‘Crusader’ community at Antioch’, pp. 305-325; Asbridge, ‘The significance and causes of the battle of the Field of Blood’, pp. 73-93.

Figure 0

Table 1. Examples of the capture and ransom of prominent political and military prisoners and hostages in Syria 442-522/1050-1128