The people of Tabaristān had defeated earlier Muslim attempts to penetrate the narrow passes of their native mountains
38
and were determined to do so again. When the two armies met on the plains, the Muslims had the advantage, but as soon as they retreated to the mountains, the local people were able to make good use of the terrain to defend themselves: ‘as soon as the Muslims began their ascent, the enemy soldiers, who were looking down on them, opened fire with arrows and stones. The Muslim soldiers fled without suffering great losses because the enemy was not strong enough to pursue them, but the Muslims crowded and jostled each other so that many of them fell into ravines.’
39
This success emboldened the local people, there was an uprising against the small number of Arabs left as a garrison in Gurgān
40
and for a time Yazīd’s army was in serious danger of being trapped and destroyed. Only some clever diplomacy allowed him to make a peace deal, which could be portrayed as a success. In addition to some fairly large sums of money, the Ispahbādh of Tabaristān agreed to pay 400 donkeys loaded with saffron and four hundred slaves. Each slave was to be dressed in a cloak with a scarf on it, carrying a silver cup and a piece of fine white silk.
The silk and the silver cups could not disguise the fact that the massive campaign had ended in partial failure. The lowlands of Gurgān were brought under Muslim rule, but the people of Tab-aristān, protected by their mountains, had fought off the challenge. According to a local history of the area, written several centuries after the events but still preserving old traditions, Yazīd set about urbanizing Gurgān, which until then had not been a real city at all. He is said to have built twenty-four small mosques, one for each Arab tribe, most of which could still be identified in the author’s own day.
41
This marks the real beginning of Muslim rule in Gurgān, seventy years after the initial Arab conquest. Even then the Islamic community seems to have been confined to the newly established capital; it would take much longer for the new religion to penetrate the villages and nomad encampments.
42
The most determined resistance the Arabs faced in the lands of the Sasanian Empire came from the area of eastern Sistan, the Helmand and Kandahār provinces of modern Afghanistan. The campaigns in this area are also interesting because the harshness of the fighting provoked the only full-scale mutiny recorded among Arab troops at this time. The desert areas of southern Afghanistan are a difficult environment for any invading army. The scorching heat is very debilitating and the rugged hills provide endless points of shelter and refuge for defenders who know the area well. This was neither Zoroastrian nor Buddhist territory but the land of the god Zun, whose golden image with ruby eyes was the object of veneration throughout the area. The kings of this land were called Zunbīls, their title proclaiming their allegiance to the god, and they moved between their winter palaces on the plains by the Helmand river and their summer residences in Zābulistān, the cooler mountains to the north.
A Muslim force had raided the area as early as 653-4, when the Arab commander had allegedly poured scorn on the image of the god, breaking off one of his arms and taking out his ruby eyes. He returned them to the local governor, saying that he had wished to show only that the idol had no power for good or evil. The god, howoever, survived this insult and was still being venerated in the eleventh century, symbolizing the fierce resistance of the people of these barren hills to outside interference. The early Muslims were well aware that this area was a potential route to India, with all its riches, but the Zunbīls and their relatives, the Kabulshāhs of Kabul and their peoples, mounted a spirited and long-lasting resistance to the Arabs, making it impossible for Muslim armies to reach northern India.
It was into this fiercely hostile environment that Ubayd Allāh b. Abī Bakra led the ‘Army of Destruction’ in 698.
43
Ubayd Allāh himself was a typical example of a man of humble origins who had done very well out of the Muslim conquest. His father was an Ethiopian slave in the city of Tā’if near Mecca. When the Muslims were besieging the town in 630, two years before the Prophet’s death, he had proclaimed that any slave who came over to his side would be free. Abī Bakra had used a pulley to lower himself over the town walls and so acquired his nickname, the Father of the Pulley. He married a free Arab woman and their son, Ubayd Allāh, inherited his dark skin colour. His slave origins were exploited by satirists. The family moved to Basra when the town was founded and made large sums of money out of urban development by building public baths. Ubayd Allāh was able to build himself a very expensive house and to keep a herd of 800 water buffalo on his estates in the marshlands of southern Iraq. The conquest of Fars provided new opportunities for making money, and we have already seen him making vast sums from the confiscation of the assets of the fire-temples there. He was, in short, a man of obscure origins and little military experience who made a fortune out of the conquests.
Hajjāj b. Yūsuf, governor of Iraq and all the east, now appointed him to command a Muslim army against the Zunbīl, who was refusing to pay tribute, ordering him to go on attacking until he had laid waste the land, destroyed the Zunbīl’s strongholds and enslaved his children. The army was assembled at the Muslim advanced base at Bust. They then marched north and east in pursuit of the Zunbīl. Their enemies withdrew before them, luring them further and further into the rugged mountains. They removed or destroyed all the food supplies and the heat was scorching. Ubayd Allāh soon found himself in a very perilous position and began to negotiate. The would-be conqueror was forced to offer a large sum of tribute, to give hostages including three of his own sons and to take a solemn oath not to invade the Zunbīl’s land again. Ubayd Allāh was lavishly entertained by the monarch with women and wine.
44
Not all the Muslims were happy to accept this humiliation and some determined to fight and achieve martyrdom, arguing that Muslims should never be prevented from attacking infidels, and, much more practically, that Hajjāj would deduct the tribute from their salaries, leaving them without any rewards for the hardships they had endured during the campaign.
A few brave souls elected to fight and achieved the martyrdom they wished. Most followed their commander in a desperate retreat to Bust. Only a small number made it, the rest perishing from hunger and thirst. Of the 20,000 men ‘with their mailed horses and panoply of weapons’ who had set out, only 5,000 returned. It was widely believed that Ubayd Allāh himself was exploiting the situation by commandeering any grain and selling it on to his troops at vastly inflated prices. As the ragged remnants of the army approached Bust they were met by a relieving force bringing some supplies, but many of the starving wretches ate so fast that they perished and the survivors had to be fed slowly with small quantities. Ubayd Allāh himself reached safety but died very soon after. The poets were merciless in their criticism of his incompetence and, above all, of his greed and the way he had exploited his troops to make money.
You were appointed as their Amir
Yet you destroyed them while the war was still raging
You stayed with them, like a father, so they said
Yet you were breaking them with your folly
You are selling a
qafiz
g
of grain for a whole dirham
While we wondered who was to blame
You were keeping back their rations of milk and barley
And selling them unripe grapes.
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It was probably the most significant setback for Muslim arms since the Arab conquests had begun. Hajjāj in Iraq was determined to seek revenge and seems to have been genuinely afraid that the Zunbīl would attack areas already under Muslim rule: if he was joined by an uprising of local people all of Iran might be lost. He wrote to the caliph Abd al-Malik in Damascus, explaining that ‘the troops of the Commander of the Faithful in Sistan have met disaster, and only a few of them have escaped. The enemy has been emboldened by this success against the people of Islam and has entered their lands and captured all their fortresses and castles’.
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He went on to say that he wanted to send out a great army from Kūfa and Basra and asked the caliph’s advice. The reply gave him carte blanche to do as he saw fit.
Hajjāj set about organizing the army, 20,000 men from Kūfa and 20,000 from Basra. He paid them their salaries in full so that they could equip themselves with horses and arms. He reviewed the army in person, giving more money to those who were renowned for their courage. Markets were set up around the camp so that the men could buy supplies and a sermon encouraging everybody to do their bit for the jihād was preached.
47
The expeditionary force became known as the ‘Peacock Army’ because of the elegance of its appearance.
Despite these preparations, the expedition set in train the only military mutiny in the history of the early conquests, the only time an Arab army refused to go on fighting and turned on its Muslim political masters. All was not as straightforward as it looked. Hajjāj had been struggling for some years to force the militias of the Iraqi towns to obey him and the caliph in Damascus. Sending them on a long, hard campaign could be very advantageous: if they were successful they might become rich and satisfied and even settle in the area. If they were not, then their power would be broken. As commander, he chose one Ibn al-Ash
c
ath. Unlike the unfortunate Ubayd Allāh, Ibn al-Ash
c
ath came from the highest ranks of the south Arabian aristocracy, being directly descended from the pre-Islamic kings of Kinda. He was also a proud man who did not like being ordered about, and had become one of the leaders of the Iraqi opposition to Hajjāj. Putting him in charge was really offering him a poisoned chalice.
At first all went well. The Zunbīl, who seems to have been very well informed about the Muslim preparations, wrote to Ibn al-Ash
c
ath offering peace. He was given no reply and the Muslim forces began a systematic occupation of his lands, taking it over district by district, appointing tax collectors, sentry posts to guard the passes and setting up a military postal service. Then, sensibly, Ibn al-Ash
c
ath decided to pause and consolidate, before advancing the next year. He wrote to Hajjāj about this perfectly reasonable course of action and received a massive blast in return. Hajjāj accused the commander of weakness and confused judgement and of not being prepared to avenge those Muslims who had been killed in the campaign. He was to continue to advance immediately. Ibn al-Ash
c
ath then called for advice. Everyone agreed that Hajjāj’s demands were unreasonable and designed to humiliate the army and its leader. ‘He does not care’, one said, ‘about risking your lives by forcing you into a land of sheer cliffs and narrow passes. If you win and acquire booty he will devour the territory and take its wealth ... if you lose, he will treat you with contempt and your distress will be no concern of his.’
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The next speaker said that Hajjāj was trying to get them out of Iraq and force them to settle in this desolate region. All agreed that the army should disavow its obedience to Hajjāj. Ibn al-Ash
c
ath then decided to lead them west to challenge Umayyad control of Iraq and the wider caliphate, leaving the Zunbīl in control of his territory and the Muslim dead unavenged.
The mutiny was not a success. Ibn al-Ash
c
ath and his Iraqi followers were defeated by the Syrian Umayyad army and crushed. But the story is important in the annals of the conquests: a Muslim army had decided that asserting its rights against the Muslim government was more important than expanding the lands of Islam and that preserving their salaries was more valuable than the acquisition of new booty. We can see the conquest movement beginning to run out of steam.
The failure of Muslim arms in southern Afghanistan marked the end of the conquests in Iran. Only to the north-east, across the River Oxus, did wars of conquest continue. The partial and scattered nature of the Muslim conquest of Iran had an important cultural legacy. In Syria, Iraq and Egypt, the Muslim conquests also led to the triumph of the Arabic language, both as the medium of high culture and the vernacular of everyday life. This did not happen in Iran. For two centuries after the conquest, and longer in some areas, Arabic was the language of imperial administration. It was also the language of religious and philosophical discourse. But it was not the language of everyday life. When independent Iranian dynasties asserted their independence from the rule of the caliphs in the ninth and tenth centuries, the language of their courts was Persian. This ‘New Persian’ was written in Arabic script and contained numerous Arabic loan-words, but the grammar and the basic vocabulary were clearly Persian, an Indo-European language in contrast to the Semitic Arabic. It is worth considering how different this is to the position in Egypt. In Egypt in the year 600 nobody spoke Arabic; by the twelfth century at the latest, everybody spoke Arabic and in modern times Egypt is thought of as a prime centre of Arabic culture. In Iran in 600 nobody spoke Arabic; by the twelfth century they still did not. Arabic was established as the language of certain sorts of intellectual discourse, very much like Latin in medieval Europe. In modern times Iran is emphatically not an Arab country.