"This book sheds new light on an important but neglected aspect of Anatolian history in the Mongol period. By focusing on literary production in a dedicated region, northwest Anatolia, this book makes a significant contribution both to medieval Anatolian and to Persian literary cultural studies, bringing to light sources neglected by existing scholarship and showing the value of focused regional research both for literary and political history more broadly."

**Andrew Peacock**, *University of St Andrews, Scotland*

### **The Chobanids of Kastamonu**

This book provides a novel approach to the history of medieval Anatolia by analysing political, religious and cultural developments in the region of Kastamonu during the reign of the Chobanid dynasty (c. 1211–1309).

During the 13th century, the Chobanids consolidated a local dynasty in western Anatolia – a borderland between Islam and Christianity – becoming cultural actors patronising the production of religious, scientific and administrative works in the Persian language. These works, though surviving today in manuscript form, have received little attention in modern historiography. The book therefore attends to this gap in the research, incorporating a detailed study of texts by little-known authors from the time. The book explores the relationship between Islam and the Chobanid dynasty in the context of the wider process of Islamisation in medieval Anatolia, hypothesising that Turkmen dynasties played a fundamental role in this process of Islamisation and acculturation. *The Chobanids of Kastamonu*, then, offers an in-depth study of a Turkmen local dynasty that achieved political autonomy, financial independence and cultural patronage in medieval Anatolia vis-à-vis the main political powers of the time.

Attentive to religious diversity, state formation and processes of transculturation in medieval Anatolia, the book is key reading for scholars of Middle Eastern history and Islamic studies.

**Bruno De Nicola** is Research Associate at the Institute of Iranian Studies in the Austrian Academy of Sciences (Vienna). His main areas of research are the cultural history of medieval and early modern Eurasia, the Mongol Empire and the study of Islamic manuscripts.

**Routledge Studies in the History of Iran and Turkey** Edited by: Carole Hillenbrand, *University of Edinburgh*

This series publishes important studies dealing with the history of Iran and Turkey in the period 1000–1700 AD. This period is significant because it heralds the advent of large numbers of nomadic Turks from Central Asia into the Islamic world. Their influence was felt particularly strongly in Iran and Turkey, territories which they permanently transformed.

The series presents translations of medieval Arabic and Persian texts which chronicle the history of the medieval Turks and Persians, and also publishes scholarly monographs which handle themes of medieval Turkish and Iranian history such as historiography, nomadisation and folk Islam.

### **Turkish Language, Literature and History**

Travellers' Tales, Sultans and Scholars Since the Eighth Century *Edited by Bill Hickman and Gary Leiser*

#### **Zengi and the Muslim Response to the Crusades**

The Politics of Jihad *Taef Kamal El-Azhari*

### **The Mongols in Iran**

Qutb Al-Dīn Shīrāzī's Akhbār-i Moghulān *George Lane*

### **The Chobanids of Kastamonu**

Politics, Patronage and Religion in Thirteenth-Century Anatolia *Bruno De Nicola*

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/Routledge-Studies-in-the-History-of-Iran-and-Turkey/book-series/SE0697

# **The Chobanids of Kastamonu**

Politics, Patronage and Religion in Thirteenth-Century Anatolia

**Bruno De Nicola**

Published with the support of the Austrian Science Fund (FWF): PUB 1055P.

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN

and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158

*Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business*

© 2024 Bruno De Nicola

The right of Bruno De Nicola to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

The Open Access version of this book is available at www.taylorfrancis.com.

This publication is licensed, unless otherwise indicated, under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0) license (http://creativecommons.org/ licenses/by/4.0/), which permits use, sharing, adaptation, distribution, and reproduction in any medium or format, provided you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and source, link to the Creative Commons license, and indicate any modifications.

*Trademark notice*: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.

*British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data* A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

*Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data* Names: De Nicola, Bruno, author. Title: The Chobanids of Kastamonu: politics, patronage and religion in thirteenth-century Anatolia / Bruno De Nicola. Other titles: Politics, patronage and religion in thirteenth-century Anatolia Description: Abingdon, Oxon; New York, NY : Routledge, 2024. | Series: Routledge studies in the history of Iran and Turkey | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2023041391 (print) | LCCN 2023041392 (ebook) | ISBN 9781138494763 (hbk) | ISBN 9781032685373 (pbk) | ISBN 9781351025782 (ebk) Subjects: LCSH: Kastamonu (Turkey)–History. | Kastamonu (Turkey)–Civilization. | Turkey–History–To 1453. Classification: LCC DS51.K2 D465 2024 (print) | LCC DS51.K2 (ebook) | DDC 939/.317–dc23/eng/20231113 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023041391 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023041392

ISBN: 978-1-138-49476-3 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-68537-3 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-351-02578-2 (ebk)

DOI: 10.4324/9781351025782

Typeset in Times New Roman by Newgen Publishing UK

**To my wife Marta and our children Lara and Marco, with love**

### **Contents**


x *Contents*


*and his manuals for letter-writing 178 6.2.1 Teaching the art of letter-writing: The* Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil *as a manual for scribes 180*


*6.3 Personal letters: A unique view on the socio-cultural history of 13th-century northern Anatolia 189*


### **Figures**


### **Maps**


### **Tables**



### **Acknowledgements**

This book is the consequence of a series of fortunate accidents. Technically, it began to be written over seven years ago when I started work for the ISLAMANATOLIA project at the University of St Andrews. During my initial months in the job I came accros an anonymous manuscript described in the catalogue of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France as a 'traité sur les sectes hétérodoxes de l'Islam, par un auteur inconnu, qui l'a dédié à un grand émir, nommé Mouzaffer ed-Din Mas'oud ibn Âlbark'.1 It was the first time that the name of this local Turkmen ruler of Kastamonu came to my attention. The text sounded fascinating, I ordered a copy from the BNF and my research on the text resulted in a research article. That could have been the end of my relationship with the region of Kastamonu were it not for Professor Andrew Peacock, who told me, over tea at a cafe in Beyoğlu, about the existence of other manuscripts composed for this amir in the 13th century. That conversation was the starting point for this book and set me on a quest to reconstruct and examine the history of Chobanid Kastamonu from the surviving literary corpus produced in this region.

My deepest gratitude goes, therefore, to Andrew Peacock, who not only pointed me in the direction of writing this book but has been the key person helping me in my academic and professional development since I joined him as a postdoctoral researcher on his project back in 2013. He deserves a great deal of credit because he accompanied the research and writing process of these chapters by always making useful comments, suggestions and remarks that have clearly improved the outcome of this project. I am grateful for the support, knowledge and guidance provided throughout the years and I am glad that mutual academic collaboration has continued after the conclusion of the project. I would also like to express my gratitude to Sara Nur Yıldız and Zeynep Oktay, my fellow postdoctoral researchers on the ISLAMANATOLIA project, for their constant support and help during all those years visiting the great city of Istanbul. It has been an enjoyable and enriching experience working with all of them.

Other friends and colleagues have also played a crucial role in helping me during the research and writing of this book. I am grateful to Professor Scott Redford for his generosity and support especially during my many visits to Istanbul during the preparation of this research. I would like to thank especially Shervin Farridnejad and Mohsen Husseini for their help in reading some Persian passages. My appreciation goes also to Oya Pancaroğlu, İklil Selçuk and Niko Kontovas for their help with navigating and accessing Turkish sources. Eekaterini Mitsiou and Johannes Preiser-Kapeller have also been very helpful in introducing me to Byzantine sources that were new to me. I would like to express special gratitude to Alexey Khismatulin, who took the time to read parts of this book and made some very useful observations. I am also thankful to Isla Rosser-Owen and Allison McKechnie for proofreading and copy-editing the final version of this book. Finally, I would like to thank Professor Carole Hillenbrand for agreeing to publish this book as part of her book series at Routledge.

The book would also not have been possible without the financial support of various projects and institutions. Primarily, the research received funding from the European Research Council under the European Union's Seventh Framework Programme (FP/2007–2013) / ERC Grant Agreement No. 208476, 'The Islamisation of Anatolia, *c*. 1100–1500'. In addition, I would like to acknowledge other institutions that, in one way or another, have helped me in different stages of this project. Special thanks to the School of History at the University of St Andrews and my colleagues in the Middle East studies section. Further, my thanks to research and educational institutions based in Turkey such as ANAMED (Koç University) and the Orient-Institut in Istanbul. My gratitude also goes to the Süleymaniye Library and the Türkiye Yazma Eserler Kurumu Başkanlığı for allowing me to work with manuscripts while doing research in Turkey. Unfortunately, this last institution has denied permission for publication of some manuscript images for this book without providing the author an explanation for the denial. It is for this reason that, unfortunately, no images of manuscripts held in Turkish collections have been reproduced in this book. At the same time, I am deeply grateful to other institutions that has facilitated images and permissions for this publication. My thanks to the Bodleian Library (Oxford), Bibliothèque Nationale de France and three Iranian libraries: the National Library of Iran, the Malek Library and Museum and the Majlis Library.

More recently, I have also received support from different colleagues at the Institute of Iranian Studies at the Austrian Academy of Sciences. My special thanks to director Dr Florian Schwarz and all the staff of the Institute for creating a fascinating intellectual environment for my current research. The final stages of this research were also possible thanks to the support provided by the *NoMansLand* project (START prize: Y 1232 G30) financed by Der Wissenschaftsfonds (FWF, Austria). This book is also being published *in memoriam* of Professor Bert Fragner (1941–2021).

### xvi *Acknowledgements*

Finally, to my family, my son Marco, my daughter Lara and my wife Marta, my most sincere gratitude for their unconditional support during the preparation of this book.

### **Note**

1 E. Blocquet, *Catalogue des manuscrits turcs de la Bibliothèque Nationale*. Vol. 2 (Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale, 1933), p. 169.

### **Note on transliteration**

newgenprepdf

The transliteration style in this book has been done using the *IJMES* (*International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies*) guidelines for transliterating Arabic, Persian and Turkish. We have followed this style using diacritical marks and italics to reflect Arabic or Persian words and phrases using Latin script in cases of technical terms and direct quotes from a text. Diacritics and special characters are not included on proper nouns (names of places, people, organisations), titles of works, or terms that are now in such common usage that they are found in one of the standard English dictionaries. The exception to the no-diacritics rule are that the ayn and hamza markers were retained in order to avoid confusion with single quote marks. Where a standard 'English' version exists for a name, place or term, that spelling was generally used. Likewise, we have standardised use of Chobanid as opposed to Çobanoğlu or other form of the name. As a rule, I have followed *IJMES* in terms of which diacritical marks are used and how vowels are reflected.

The full IJMES transliteration guidelines can be accessed in the following link: www.cambridge.org/core/journals/international-journal-of-middle-east-stud ies/information/author-resources/ijmes-translation-and-transliteration-guide.

*Map 1* Political map of Anatolia in the 13th century.

Created by Fernando Llistosella. newgenrtpdf

*Map 2* The Ilkhanate in the 13th and 14th centuries.

Created by Fernando Llistosella. newgenrtpdf

### **Introduction**

In 1996 the British historian Clifford E. Bosworth published a reference book that offers a chronology of Islamic dynasties which updated a previous work published by him in 1967.1 Omitted in the first version of the work, the new edition listed among an extensive enumeration of Islamic dynasties the *Chobān Oghullarï* at number 123. The entry only includes a chronology of four rulers followed by a short text describing the campaign of the Turkmen Anatolian lord 'Husām al-Dīn Chobān' to Crimea in 1223. To my knowledge, this is the first specific reference to the Chobanids of Kastamonu in the English language in a major European publication acknowledging these Turkmen rulers as members of an Islamic dynasty. Although some general works on the history of Anatolia have made passing references to the Chobanids of Kastamonu, Western scholars have remained mostly unaware of (or uninterested in) this peripheral Turkmen dynasty.

The history of medieval Anatolia has attracted increasing attention in the last few decades. Scholars based in institutions across Europe, the United States and Turkey have been revisiting more traditional paradigms developed by scholars such as Köprülü and others during the 20th century. This new approach to the history of the Anatolian Peninsula in the period between the 12th and the 14th centuries is more in tune with the advice given by the French historian Claude Cahen some decades ago:

It is therefore important to study Asia Minor for itself, and only to allow the Ottoman point of view to be brought in step by step with the effective development of Ottoman influence in its history. That Asia Minor should be taken into account when studying the origins of the Ottoman Empire may, again with the appropriate precautions, be legitimate; but it does not follow that Asia Minor has to be studied as an introduction to the Ottoman Empire.2

This new approach to the history of Asia Minor in the centuries prior to the consolidation of the Ottoman dynasty in the Anatolian peninsula helped modern scholarship to break away from seeing this period as a mere precedent

> DOI: 10.4324/9781351025782-1 This chapter has been made available under a CC BY 4.0 licence.

### 2 *Introduction*

to the rise of the Ottomans, and to consider it a historical period in its own right. A re-evaluation of the period's historiography, archaeology and material culture has opened a new perspective on aspects of the political, economic and cultural history of the period. Our knowledge of the literary history of medieval Anatolia has increased dramatically in the last couple of decades. The publication and translation of the main historical chronicles of the period has provided a general narrative of the political history of the Seljuqs of Rum and their relationship with the Mongols of Iran (Ilkhanate) in the region after their conquest of Anatolia in the 1240s. Similarly, recent studies on manuscript production in medieval Anatolia have proven invaluable in understanding the region as a centre for the production, distribution and consumption of knowledge in the period. However, the picture we have of the political and cultural history of Anatolia is not homogeneous across the territory, and our knowledge of the historical development of the peninsula, especially in the 13th century, is rather unbalanced. While our understanding of the cultural and intellectual history of central and eastern Anatolia is advancing rapidly, the western and northern parts of the peninsula have received more modest attention from the scholarly world.

In this context, this book aims to contribute to the history of medieval Anatolia by looking at the developments of the region of Kastamonu under the reign of the Chobanid dynasty (r. 1210–1309). This work explores different aspects of the cultural history of the period while keeping two main objectives in mind. First, this study wants to explore the relationship developed between this peripheral Turkmen dynasty of north-western Kastamonu vis-à-vis the main political powers of the time (Byzantium, the Seljuqs of Rum, the Mongol Ilkhanate of Iran and the Golden Horde) and how it was integrated into the cultural and religious transformation that occurred in 13th-century Anatolia. We aim to explore whether an in-depth study of a peripheral dynasty such as the Chobanids of Kastamonu could serve as a useful case study to discuss mechanisms of state formation, dynamics of centrality and the periphery in Islamic empires and processes of Islamisation, transculturation and production of knowledge, that can be connected to the general context of the history of the Middle East. Second, this study is, to some extent, a methodological experiment that tries to confront the general tendency in Middle Eastern Studies that makes (ab)use of historical chronicles and narratives for the reconstruction of the past. As an attempt to challenge this tendency, this study aims to show that in the medieval Islamic world, our knowledge of the cultural history of a given time and place can be expanded by paying special attention to the literary works produced in this moment, even if they were not conceived as historical narratives.

Despite the increase of scholarly interest in medieval Anatolia in recent decades, certain aspects of the history of this period remain poorly understood. Among them is the functioning of the centre–periphery dynamics present in the Turco-Mongol states of medieval Eurasia. We know little about how the Seljuqs of Rum controlled the territory under their sway and how

different regions and populations across the peninsula interacted with the central court in Konya. How did the different Turkmen groups such as the Chobanids of Kastamonu, being both subjects of and rivals to the Seljuqs in different periods, interact with the sultanate court? How intertwined were they as representations of 'centre' and 'periphery', not only in terms of political domination and rebellion but also in terms of the cultural and religious transformation that was occurring in the region? Similar questions can be extrapolated into a larger historiographical context that includes the ways in which the Mongols ruled Iran and how Mongol rule was exercised once the Ilkhanate took control of Anatolia in the mid-13th century. From the point of view of the Ilkhanate, Anatolia became yet another territory ruled by a subject dynasty that acknowledged Ilkhanid overlordship but maintained different degrees of political, cultural and religious autonomy. Southern areas of the Ilkhanate such as Fars or Kerman were also ruled in this period by Turkic dynasties such as the Salghurids or the Qutlughkhanids respectively, but maintained a close political, cultural and dynastic interaction with the Mongol court.3 In comparison, the Seljuqs of Rum had their own particularities with regard to their institutions, political organisation and cultural background, but were similarly confronted with the shifting of gravitational power from Anatolia into the Ilkhanate. The study of the manifestations of these realities circumscribed to the region of Kastamonu offers the opportunity to explore the dynamics of peripheral power structures in a complex multi-layered system of political domination, and religious and cultural transformation in medieval Anatolia that can serve as a departure point for future in-depth studies of the regional history of the period.

The main period of enquiry of the book begins in the 13th century, when the Seljuqs, led by Rukn al-Din Sulayman II (r. 1197–1204), finally defeated the Saltuqids at Erzurum and forced Armenian Cilicia into vassalage. His reign inaugurates the pinnacle of the political, military and cultural development of the Seljuq sultanate of Rum that was characterised by the expansion of religious foundations, patronage of the arts and scholars, and the institutional development of the court. In parallel, a closer control of the border was implemented by assigning specific titles and privileges to some Turkmen rulers that possibly already controlled regions of western Anatolia. Among them was Husam al-Din Choban, who, according to the historian Ibn Bibi, received in 1211–12 the title of amir and was acknowledged as ruler of Kastamonu in north-western Anatolia. Mostly incorporated into the Seljuq political structure for the military capability of his tribesmen, the descendants of Husam al-Din would consolidate a local dynasty in north-western Anatolia that would endure into the first decade of the 14th century. In the course of the 13th century, the Chobanids (in Turkish, Çobanoğlu) managed to survive the Mongol invasions of Anatolia in the 1240s that diminished Seljuq power in the region by accommodating to the changing political dynamics of this border region. However, in the context of Mongol-dominated Anatolia, the Chobanid rulers did not content themselves with surviving constant political turmoil, but went

### 4 *Introduction*

one step further into commissioning literary works, financing architectural projects and promoting the spread of Islam in their territories.

### **The sources**

Many local dynasties across the Middle East exerted patronage and financed literary works in the 13th century, so the Chobanid dynasty of Kastamonu is hardly unusual in this respect. However, it is a particularly unusual case in that a relatively large number of the literary works connected to this peripheral dynasty (dedicated to the rulers or composed in the region during their reign) have survived to our day in various manuscripts that receive little or no attention at all in modern historiography.4 This offers a particularly interesting corpus of works ranging in topics from astronomy, administrative literature and religious accounts to manuals of letter-writing that offer a substantial amount of alternative information to the more standard historical narratives available for the period. In addition, while this book makes extensive use of this literary corpus, it does not disregard some of the main historical sources of the period. Because Kastamonu was a border zone between Islam and Christianity in the 13th century, references to the region can be found in sources from different origins.5 Historical accounts produced in Islamic Anatolia, Byzantium, the Ilkhanate and the Arab world make occasional and sporadic mentions of the history of Kastamonu. Although information is not abundant with regard to Kastamonu in any of these accounts, their infrequent references help to better contextualise some of the political events occurring in the region. More abundant – albeit far from comprehensive – information on Chobanid Kastamonu can be found in a group of local chronicles composed in Anatolia during the 13th and early 14th centuries that have traditionally been the core of the historical research on medieval Anatolia.6

Among this group of sources are the local chronicles composed in Persian by Ibn Bibi (d. after 1285), Aqsaraʾi and the chronicle of the Anonymous Historian(s) of Konya.7 The references to the Chobanids in these accounts vary according to the period in which they were composed and the political circumstances in which the authors found themselves at the time of writing. Ibn Bibi, for example, provides vivid accounts of the different military campaigns in which Husam al-Din, the founder of the Chobanid dynasty, participated. However, for the most part, his account fails to provide any meaningful information on the events occurring in the region after Husam al-Din returned victorious to his homeland after his campaign in Crimea. Ibn Bibi only returns to mention Chobanid rulers in the context of the intervention of Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek (r. 1280–91), grandson of Husam al-Din, to assist the future Sultan Masʿud II (d. 1308) against his brother and rival to the Seljuq throne, Rukn al-Din Kılıç Arslan.8 While Ibn Bibi provides details of the early Chobanid rulers, the remaining local chronicles are useful for the events occurring in the second half of the 13th century. Overall, this group of sources is useful for gaining a perspective of how Kastamonu was seen from the Seljuq court and the role that the Chobanids played in the larger political scenario of the peninsula. However, they only provide general accounts, mostly concerned with military campaigns, political alliances and rebellions against the central power, while offering very limited information on any aspect of the economic, social, or cultural life of 13th-century Kastamonu.

Because of the territorial proximity between Kastamonu and the Byzantine Empire in the 13th century one would expect that Greek sources would be particularly interested in the events taking place in the region across their borders.9 There are, for example, specific mentions to the town of Kastamonu in some narrative Greek sources, such as the letter by the priest Niketas Karantinos (fl. 13th century).10 However, Byzantine scholars have noticed that despite the long tradition of historical writing existing in the Byzantine Empire, only three main chronicles of Greek origin actually deal with the different Turkish groups that occupied Anatolia in the 13th and 14th centuries. The earliest of these accounts is the work of George Akropolites (d. 1282), a Nicaean nobleman who wrote a historical account of his time, but interrupted his narrative in the year 1261.11 Because of his origin, his main focus is the events concerning the history of the Empire of Nicaea (r. 1204–61), but he makes specific references to developments in the Seljuq court and the advance of the Mongols in the 1240s. In this context, this account specifically mentions Kastamonu during the 1250s, a particularly obscure period in the history of the region.

George Pachymeres (d. 1310) was a disciple of Akropolites and had a successful ecclesiastical career in Constantinople.12 His *Historical Relations* is possibly the most relevant historical work on Islamic Anatolia produced in Byzantium.13 This account, 'despite its difficult rhetorical style and tortuous syntax, is one of the most reliable sources for Byzantine-Turkish relations'.14 Pachymeres' history provides a unique description of the final decades of Chobanid rule in Kastamonu and is an important source – despite some confusing passages and a chaotic chronology of events – to reconstruct aspects of the revolt that precipitated the decline of the Chobanids.15 Nicephoros Gregoras (d. 1360) is a later author writing in the early 14th century, but whose work deals mostly with events in Byzantium during the 13th century and the early decades of the 14th century.16 He relies largely on both Akropolites and Pachymeres but offers some complementary accounts based on the use of contemporary sources, providing, for example, some alternative views on the last years of the Chobanids that add to Pachymeres' account.

In addition to contemporary Greek and Anatolian-Persian sources, there are a number of other sources that, although referring to the region of Kastamonu in passing, offer pivotal information on different aspects of medieval Anatolia. An example of this is the account of the Andalusian historian and geographer Ibn Saʿid (d. 1286), who passed through Anatolia on his way to Mecca and compiled a geographical account of the peninsula on his return to al-Andalus.17 Ibn Saʿid's description offers some interesting insights into the economic and social life of Anatolia during the early years of the Mongol conquest. He provides a particularly vivid description of the conflicts between

### 6 *Introduction*

Turkmen groups and Christians on the Byzantine frontier and highlights the importance of trade in the economy of different Anatolian cities. This includes the city and area of Kastamonu, where he not only confirms the wide establishment of Turkmen populations in the region, but also provides relevant information on the role of the city as a centre of the slave trade and was connected commercially with the port of Sinop on the Black Sea.18

A much richer description of the city is provided by Ibn Battuta (d. 1377), another traveller from the Western Islamic world who spent over 40 days in Kastamonu during the 14th century.19 His description of the city, although reflecting aspects of urban life in 14th-century Kastamonu – and consequently post-Chobanid – is useful to establish the existence of certain aspects of the economic and religious life of the city that might have remained in place from the 13th century. It allows us to infer, with caution, the permanence of certain characteristics of the city.20 Although considerably more modest in their description of the city and region, other works by authors for whom we have no record of them visiting Anatolia also mention Kastamonu. Among them, the geographical works of al-ʿUmari (d. 1348) and Hamdallah Mustawfi (d. 1349), the latter offering some limited information about the city of Kastamonu during the 14th century.21

Scattered references to the city of Kastamonu appear also in some hagiographic accounts such as the *Manaqib al-ʿarifin* of Shams al-Din Aflaki, the biographer of Jalal al-Din Rumi.22 Although these references are made only in passing, they help us to contextualise some of the original sources composed in Kastamonu that will be at the centre of this research. By making specific references to Sufi shaykhs living in early 14th-century Kastamonu, this hagiography is a good witness, for example, of the evolution of the Islamisation process that occurred in Kastamonu during the 13th century. In the same direction, other scarce but useful documents are the limited number of endowment documents (*awqāf*) and inscriptions that survive from the period.23 There are no records of coins being minted by the Chobanids of Kastamonu, but the earliest coins known to us date from the third decade of the 14th century made by the Jandarid (Candaroğlu) dynasty in the name of the Mongol Ilkhan of Iran Abu Saʿid (r. 1316–35).24 Although limited in their quantity and scope, these sources offer fundamental information that can, on occasion, serve as a point for validation or refutation of narrative sources. Finally, although general studies on Anatolian architecture often omit references to the region of Kastamonu, the archaeology and material culture of the region offers important information on political, religious and cultural aspects of the city of Kastamonu and its surrounding region.25

### **Historiography of medieval Kastamonu**

Chobanid Kastamonu occupies a marginal place in the historiography of medieval Anatolia, often overshadowed by the later expansion of the successor Jandarid dynasty and their political and military interaction with the early

Ottomans. With some honourable exceptions, the majority of the books covering 13th-century Anatolia focus mostly on central and eastern parts of the peninsula while leaving the western frontier out of the analysis or limited to a short, peripheral reference.26 The reason for this is, as we have seen, the limited attention that the Chobanids attracted from the main chroniclers of the period and the difficulty in reconciling their accounts with the Greek sources. In the mid-20th century, Turkish historiography began to explore source material coming from the region in an attempt to incorporate it into the larger context of sources of the Seljuq period. Osman Turan, for example, investigated some of the sources produced in Chobanid Kastamonu as part of a larger study on 'Official documents' (*Resmî vesikalar*) and published in 1953 a pioneering article on the unique manuscript of the work *Fustat al-ʿadala*. 27 These two are the earlier studies on the literary production of the region but containing only limited information on the historical context in which these works were produced. The contribution of Osman Turan in making these texts available and providing some initial interpretations on the material has been pivotal in facilitating research for this current study.

Perhaps prompted by the slow but steady surfacing of sources from the region encouraged by scholars such as Osman Turan, medieval Kastamonu generated a certain amount of debate among Western scholars during the 1970s.28 This was sparked by the famous French scholar Claude Cahen's publication of an article dedicated to the history of Kastamonu in the 13th century, in which he argues that the region has been marginalised from the main sources of the period because of its location in a remote place far from the centres of power.29 This idea was taken up by Greek scholar Elizabeth Zachariadou who, motivated by Cahen's statement, tried to find evidence on the region of Kastamonu in Byzantine sources.30 Mostly relying on the above-mentioned chronicle of Pachymeres, Zachariadou discusses the use of some Greek terminology (especially that of *amouriou*) in trying to shed some light mostly on the final decades of the history of Chobanid Kastamonu. Although her conclusions have been challenged, as we will see, by more recent scholarship in the field, these early contributions helped to visualise the political relevance of 13th-century Kastamonu in the larger Anatolian context and the difficulties that the source material available presents for the study of the region.

A much more comprehensive approach to the history of the region was carried out in the early 1990s by the Turkish historian Yaşar Yücel, who produced a two-volume work dedicated to the study of the different Anatolian beyliks.31 The first of these two volumes covers the two dynasties that controlled the region of Kastamonu and north-western Anatolia from the 13th to the 15th century. There is a clear imbalance in the length of the research when compared with the analysis that Yücel was able to do for each of these dynasties. The section dedicated to the Chobanids occupies only a fifth of the book and the entire political, social and literary history of the dynasty is described in 50 pages. Despite the limited scope of Yücel's analysis of the Chobanids, this section of the book was the most exhaustive and in-depth study of the history of the dynasty up to that time and remains a crucial work for the study of 13th-century Kastamonu. Unlike Turan, Yücel attempted to provide a more comprehensive political, economic and social analysis of the Chobanids vis-à-vis the textual evidence surviving from the period. Yücel's work is the first to engage in discussing the Turkmen origin of the dynasty, provides a chronological description of the deeds of Chobanid rulers and discusses the role of the dynasty as a pivotal part of the political dynamics of Seljuq and Mongol Anatolia. However, while Yücel mentions the role of some Chobanid rulers as patrons of literature and includes transcriptions of some of the works composed in Kastamonu, he does not use these texts to add to our understanding of the social history of the period. In other words, while he mentions the rulers' active role in financing the production of literary works, he fails to engage more deeply in the implications that the production of these particular texts had for the development of the administrative, religious and cultural history of Chobanid Kastamonu. Yücel's pioneering work remains, nonetheless, a reference work for the study of medieval Kastamonu and beyond, and a pivotal study from which the present study has benefited greatly.

Since Yücel's publication, general studies on the history of medieval Anatolia have relied on this work for referencing events occurring in 13th-century Kastamonu, and little has been added to this standard narrative.32 However, at the turn of the 21st century, a number of region-based studies appeared that began to challenge some of the ideas presented by previous research and opened new fields of research on the region's history. Among them, the study by Dimitri Korobeinikov focusing on the specific events leading to the 'revolt of Kastamonu' of 1291–93 challenged some of the statements made previously by Zachariadou and gave a different dimension to the role of the Chobanids in the history of medieval Anatolia.33 Korobeinikov manages to reconcile the terminology used by Pachymeres with the Islamic accounts to reconstruct a coherent narrative of the revolt.34 By using a larger spectrum of sources that include both Islamic and Byzantine accounts, Korobeinikov shifted the traditional perspective that viewed the Chobanids as marginal political actors and centred his attention on the political developments occurring in the region and the implications that this frontier had in our understanding of the history of both Islamic Anatolia and the Byzantine Empire in the 13th century. Further, Korobeinikov challenged the idea of considering the Chobanids as just another Anatolian beylik kingdom, suggesting that the characteristics of this particular dynasty set it apart from other Anatolian kingdoms that developed in the 14th century.35 A similar regional approach has been taken by Andrew Peacock in a group of articles dedicated to different aspects of the history of north-western Anatolia in the 13th century. Especially relevant for its contribution to our knowledge of the Chobanids of Kastamonu is the analysis of a particular 'letter of victory' (*Fatihnama*), in which the Chobanid ruler Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek is said to have invaded a pair of Byzantine castles on the Bay of Gideros on the shores of the Black Sea in 1284.36 Further, different research focusing on the history of Sinop, Cide and Kastamonu as a frontier between the Seljuqs and the Byzantine Empire has contributed greatly to enhancing the historical relevance of the region in understanding the complex political arena of 13th-century Anatolia and the region of Kastamonu.37

Finally, in recent years, Turkish scholars based in Kastamonu have also greatly enhanced the visibility of the Chobanids in Anatolian historiography. Although publishing extensively on the Jandarids as well, Cevdet Yakupoğlu has contributed a great deal in the last decade to the study of different aspects of the history of Chobanid Kastamonu. Particularly relevant are his contributions to the study of patronage, endowments and religion among the Chobanids in the 13th century.38 More recently, the publication of a monograph in collaboration with Namiq Musali has contributed greatly to our knowledge of *inshāʾ* literature under the Chobanids and has assisted considerably in the preparation of Chapter 6 of this book.39 However, despite this increasing interest and awareness of the relevant role that Chobanid Kastamonu played in the history of Seljuq and Mongol Anatolia, many newly published studies on the history of the period either omit this frontier region or reduce it to a marginal place in their general analysis. It is hoped that this study can counter this trend and promote further research on the contribution that local and regional history can make to our general understanding of the medieval Middle East.

### **The organisation of this book**

This study is divided into six chapters, each presenting different aspects of the political, religious and cultural history of the Chobanid dynasty that ruled over north-western Anatolia from *c.* 1211 to 1309. By focusing on a number of local sources and unique manuscripts, this research offers new perspectives on the development of a local political entity in Seljuq- and Mongol-dominated Anatolia. The book makes use of the case of this local dynasty to engage in broader topics affecting the cultural development of Anatolia and the Mongoldominated Middle East. The book initially offers a section (Chapter 1) that contextualises the emergence of this dynasty within the history of the peninsula from the arrival of the first Turkish groups in the late 11th century until the removal of the Chobanids at the hands of the new dynastic order of the Jandarids at the beginning of the 14th century. Once the historical context has been presented, the following chapter (Chapter 2) looks at a variety of original sources to suggest a historical reconstruction of a chronological political history of the Chobanid dynasty, from the earlier references we have in the sources until the demise of the dynasty in the early 14th century. The chapter compares and contrasts the political trajectory of the different Chobanid rulers vis-à-vis the Byzantine Empire, the Seljuqs of Rum and the Mongols of Iran, showing how the Turkmen rulers adapted to the always-changing political circumstances of 13th-century Anatolia, while shifting political alliances in order to consolidate their control over the region. Once Chobanid rule in Kastamonu became firmly established from the 1280s onward, the way was open for its rulers to set up a political agenda that promoted the production of different Persian literary works and facilitated the construction of secular and religious buildings in the region. A survey of the literary and architectural legacy is presented in Chapter 3, aiming to evaluate aspects of patronage, production and distribution of literary works and the financing of religious and secular buildings in the urban and rural landscape of the city of Kastamonu and its surrounding region during the 13th century.

The remaining sections of the book explore aspects of socio-cultural history of the region by focusing mainly on the evidence contained in texts produced in Chobanid Kastamonu. The composition of a work based on the classical Persian *Siyasatnama* (*Siyar al-muluk*) often attributed to the Seljuq vizier Nizam al-Mulk, offers a good opportunity to investigate how culturally Persian individuals used these texts as a way to obtain economic rewards and improve their career prospects at the court (Chapter 4). The author's alterations to the classical text to produce the new work dedicated to the Chobanid ruler is also part of the analysis of this section. The chapter suggests, by considering the arrangement of contents and chapter omissions in the new text vis-à-vis the original work, that this new composition reflects aspects of the religious, political and social history of Chobanid Kastamonu that are omitted in more traditional source material. A similar methodology of having a locally produced text at the centre of the analysis is implemented in the following section of the book (Chapter 5), which is dedicated to exploring aspects of religion under Chobanid rule. This section is based on the analysis of different unique accounts of the practices and beliefs of a group of antinomian Sufis (Qalandars) in a text dedicated to the Chobanid ruler Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek (r. 1280–91). The chapter explores the idea of 'orthodoxy', included in another section of the same text, by offering a complementary view between Hanafi and Shafiʿi interpretations of Islamic law. This chapter argues that by looking at this specific text composed for a Chobanid ruler, it is possible to suggest that a debate took place at the Kastamonu court on aspects of religious matters that are completely absent from the majority of the sources available from the period. Finally, a closing section (Chapter 6) engages with a number of little-known texts composed under the cultural patronage of the Chobanid dynasty to discuss different aspects of socio-political life in 13th-century Anatolia. The main focus of this section is the genre of *inshāʾ* (chancellery letters) and the art of letter-writing that, based on the relatively high number of texts of this genre produced in this region, became especially popular in 13th-century Kastamonu. These letters, written by Husam al-Din Khuʾi (d. *c*. 1309) and dedicated to the Chobanids, had not only a clear stylistic, but also a pedagogical, purpose that indicates an attempt to provide the Chobanid realm with a diplomatic apparatus, which suggests the Chobanids had a more elaborate conception of the state than previously assumed. This genre of letterwriting inspired the court and became popular among individuals of a literate Anatolian elite. A unique sample of personal letters produced in Kastamonu is also added to the analysis of this section as it helps to reconstruct a picture of the socio-economic conditions of north-western Anatolia in the 13th century from a personal perspective.

Overall, this book aims to offer a comprehensive explanation for the emergence and development of the Chobanid dynasty in Seljuq and Mongol Anatolia for a better understanding of the characteristics of the rule of this Turkmen dynasty, the patronage of Persian literature promoted by the court and the socio-religious transformation of this territory under their rule. We do not expect that this research will be the final word on any of the aspects developed in this book, but rather a useful contribution to the history of medieval Anatolia.

### **Notes**


## **1 A territory in transformation** The political and intellectual context of Anatolia in the 13th century

The first time a Turkmen ruler of Kastamonu appears in the historical records is in connection with a military campaign in which a local amir named Husam al-Din Choban comes to the assistance of the future Seljuq sultan Kayqubad in Ankara in 1211. The conflict and its aftermath are narrated by the court historian Ibn Bibi some 70 years after the events and we do not have any information about who this Husam al-Din was, how he came to power, or why he was assisting this particular faction of the Seljuq dynasty in this particular war of succession. There is silence in the sources about the Chobanids of Kastamonu before 1211 and it is unlikely – albeit that there is always hope – that any new sources might surface in the future that offer further information about this specific period in this local dynasty's history. In trying to minimise the historical lacuna about the Chobanids before this foundational event, but also in subsequent periods of the 13th century when we lack specific references to the Chobanids, this chapter attempts to offer a short survey of the political and intellectual context of Anatolia from the 11th to the early 14th century. Pivotal in contextualising Chobanid Kastamonu is to give an overview of the political history of the Seljuqs of Rum, the Mongol domination of Anatolia and the cultural transformations that occurred in the peninsula from the coming of the Turks in the late 11th century up to the fall of the Mongol Ilkhanate of Iran in 1335. It is relevant to offer an historical evaluation of the process of migration that brought groups of Turkmen people and many individual literati and religious leaders into the peninsula from the late 12th century. They came mainly – but not only – from Khurasan, Central Asia and the Levant, and made a clear contribution to the development of the intellectual milieu in which the Chobanids of Kastamonu came to power. Finally, the chapter closes with an overview of general aspects of the geography, economy and social organisation of Kastamonu to better contextualise the landscape which the Chobanids ruled in the 13th century.

### **1.1 Seljuq Anatolia before the Mongols**

The early history of the Seljuq domination of Anatolia is poorly documented, with many gaps and conflicting narratives of the events. The formative period of the sultanate of Rum begins with the initial Turkish incursions in the peninsula and concludes with the consolidation of Seljuq control at the end of the 12th century. The Battle of Manzikert in 1071 CE, in which the Seljuq Turks defeated the Byzantine army and the emperor Romanus IV Diogenes (r. 1068– 71) was captured by Alp Arslan, is often given as the foundational event that marks the starting point for the establishment of Seljuq supremacy in the peninsula.1 However, raid*-*like incursions by different Turkish groups have been documented especially in the eastern parts of the peninsula from at least four decades before the battle.2 The incapacity of the Byzantine Empire to militarily contain the Turkish advance meant that by the late 11th century, Turkish armed groups began to settle in the Anatolian Peninsula, establishing military control over different regions and eventually establishing the first Turkic dynasties in Anatolia. The Danishmandid and Saltuqid dynasties became political actors in the complex political situation of 12th-century Anatolia. The newcomers quickly integrated themselves in a fluid scenario that mixed military campaigns, alliances and diplomacy between a multitude of factions that included the remaining Byzantine Empire, the newly established Crusader states in the Middle East and the rise of Sulayman b. Qutlumush, generally considered the founder of the Seljuq dynasty of Rum.3

During the first half of the 12th century, the Seljuqs of Rum were just another piece in a mosaic of realms that occupied the Anatolian Peninsula. Central and northern Anatolia were in the hands of the Danishmandids, the eastern parts of the peninsula were under the control of the Saltuqids based in the city of Erzurum and the Artuqids ruled over Diyarbakır, Harput and Mardin. In addition to these Turkish principalities, a new Armenian kingdom consolidated in Cilicia while the Black Sea and the Mediterranean coast remained in the hands of the Byzantines. It was not until the mid-12th century when, under the reign of Masʿud I (r. 1116–56), the Seljuqs of Rum would begin to emerge as the most powerful Turkish state in Anatolia. Initially a vassal of the Danishmandid amir, Masʿud managed first to be a clever politician and exploit internal divisions among the Danishmandids in his own favour to increase his political influence in the peninsula. He also proved to be a skilful military commander. In 1146, he managed to defend the city of Konya from a Byzantine attack under the command of Emperor Manuel Comnenus (r. 1143–80) and only a year later he achieved a sound military victory against the Christian armies of the Second Crusade at the Battle of Dorylaeum.4

Kılıç Arslan II (r. 1156–92), son and successor of Masʿud, consolidated the territories gained by his father but was also challenged by other members of his family. The persecution of internal opposition drove Kılıç Arslan to expand his domains into central and western Anatolia, which, in turn, increased the concerns of the Byzantine emperor over the growing influence of the sultan. The emperor Manuel Comnenus launched an expedition against the Seljuqs and the armies met at the Battle of Myriocephalum in 1176.5 The Byzantine armies suffered a crushing and humiliating defeat that would put an end to any future aspirations of the emperor to recover central and western Anatolia from the Seljuqs. In the following years, Kılıç Arslan II would attempt to expand his influence further east, managing to overcome the rival Danishmandid dynasty by incorporating its territories into the sultanate, but he was unable to enter Syrian areas due to the rise of the figure of Salah al-Din (r. 1169–93) in those lands.

However, the successful military campaigns of Kılıç Arslan II and the consolidation of Seljuq control over large parts of Anatolia encountered some internal problems. The patrimonial understanding of the reign of the sultan meant that even before the end of his reign, he had divided his territories among his sons and relatives and assigned to them the title of malik, while reserving for himself the epithet of sultan. The different lords acted as autonomous rulers in their fiefdoms, fragmenting the political power of the sultanate and promoting rivalries and enmities among rulers of the different regions. This fragmentation of power may explain why in 1190 the armies of the Third Crusade managed to occupy and sack Konya over five days without the sultan being able to prevent it. Further, the central power vacuum made it possible for different Turkmen groups to range freely in border areas with Byzantium, while the sultan's direct authority was restricted to Konya and the major urban centres of the sultanate.6 These borderlands would remain in the hands of these Turkmen groups during the first half of the 13th century, when local rulers originally belonging to these groups, such as the Chobanids of Kastamonu, would attempt to expand their influence into urban areas and consolidate a local dynasty over these frontier regions.

At the turn of the 13th century, the fate of the sultanate shifted when Rukn al-Din Sulayman II (r. 1197–1204) became sultan, replacing his deposed brother Kaykhusraw I. He managed to bring most of the autonomous maliks under his control but suffered a humiliating defeat against the Georgians in the east of Anatolia.7 His brother remained among the rebel maliks opposing Rukn al-Din Sulayman's hegemony in the sultanate. Although Kaykhusraw was eventually defeated in battle by Rukn al-Din Sulayman in 1204, the rebel was fortunate in that the sultan passed away the same year. The deposed Kaykhusraw I (r. 1205–11) would reclaim the throne for a second time after removing the underage ʿIzz al-Din Kılıç Arslan III (1204–05) after a short time in office. The centralising efforts of Rukn al-Din Sulayman were reversed by Kaykhusraw, who would once again follow the policy of assigning his sons as maliks across the peninsula. Malatya was given to the eldest son Kaykaʾus I, Tokat was assigned to Kayqubad I, and the third son Jalal-al-Din Kayfaridun received Koyluhisar, the ancient city of Nicopolis in Lesser Armenia.8 Conflict between the brothers erupted as soon as the sultan died in 1211, culminating in the Battle of Ankara that same year where Kaykaʾus I (r. 1211–20) defeated his brother Kayqubad I, despite the latter receiving military support from the Chobanids of Kastamonu (see Chapter 2).

Kaykaʾus I managed to expand his territories by adding in 1214 the important port of Sinop on the shores of the Black Sea to the previous incorporation of the Mediterranean port of Antalya by his father in 1207.9 This allowed him to call himself 'sultan of the two seas' as an honorific title and reinforce the position of the Seljuq sultanate by increasing trade, opening possibilities for new military expansion and using the new economic bonanza to finance the patronage of literature and architecture.10 Despite this, the peak of Seljuq territorial expansion and royal prestige would come when Kaykaʾus died and his brother, the once defeated ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad I (r. 1220–37), ascended to the throne of the sultanate. As we will see, he would continue the military expansion initiated by his brother by commissioning the first and only maritime campaign to Crimea; he managed to control most of the peninsula (with the exception of the Empire of Trebizond and the limited lands of Byzantium east of Constantinople) and eliminated the Mangujakids, the only remaining Turkish principality that opposed Seljuq supremacy.

During the reign of ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad I, however, the indirect consequences of the Mongol advance in Central Asia began to be felt in Anatolia. The Khwarazmshah sultan Jalal al-Din (r. 1220–31), who had escaped the downfall of his father's empire in Khwarazm, became militarily active in eastern Anatolia during the early 1230s. From the Seljuq perspective, there was a benefit in the fact that Jalal al-Din's invasion of the Caucasus weakened their rival kingdom of Georgia. However, his presence in the area also attracted the attention of the Mongols to these western parts of the Islamic world. The sultan tried to ally first with the Ayyubids of Syria but this alliance failed and both parties met on the battlefield in eastern Anatolia. Eventually, the Seljuqs managed to drive the Ayyubids backs into Syria, but soon afterwards the Mongol general Baiju (d. 1259) invaded eastern Anatolia, sacking Erzincan and reaching the countryside of Sivas in 1232. With the Mongol threat on his doorstep, ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad nominally submitted to the Great Khan Ögetei (r. 1229–41), keeping Anatolia as a subject region but without real Mongol control over the area.11

The reign of ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad has been seen as a golden age in the history of the Seljuqs of Rum because of the cultural and artistic sophistication achieved in the sultanate. However, politically, control over the territory was not always in the hands of the sultan. Local rulers (amirs) such as Husam al-Din Choban ruled autonomously in certain regions of the peninsula while the sultan, like his predecessors, tried to distribute his sons in major cities around the sultanate to control the autonomy of these local rulers. Despite these efforts, there seemed to be centrifugal forces pulling power away from Konya and increasing the power of local amirs and members of the court. In this context, it is not surprising that after ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad died in 1237, the succession was decided by a powerful military and political elite that promoted his son Ghiyath al-Din Kaykhusraw II (1237–46), going against the wishes of the deceased sultan, who wanted to pass his throne to his other son ʿIzz al-Din Kılıç Arslan. The new ruler tried to continue his father's military expansion to the east but the Mongol presence in eastern Anatolia became more persistent. Different Turkmen revolts also erupted in various regions of the sultanate, contributing to the erosion of the sultan's prestige and military strength. The *coup de grâce* of Kaykhusraw's reign came at the Battle of Köse Dağ in 1243, when a Mongol army led by Baiju defeated the Seljuq army led by Kaykhusraw II, forcing the sultan to find refuge in Konya and leaving central Anatolia at the mercy of Mongol raids. The sultan sent an embassy to the court of Batu (d. 1255), ruler of the Golden Horde, whereby the Seljuqs submitted to the Mongols and agreed to pay a substantial annual tribute.

### **1.2 Anatolia under the Mongols**

The expansion of the Mongol Empire outside of the Mongolian steppes began in 1206 with the rise of a young Mongol leader, called Temüjin, who was acknowledged by his peers as Chinggis Khan (d. 1227). Subsequently, Eurasia underwent a political, economic and cultural transformation of unprecedented dimensions. The new ruler and his descendants built the largest continuous empire that had ever existed, ruling the region extending from the Korean peninsula to Anatolia and from Siberia to northern India. They not only gained control over the Eurasian steppes and the Turco-Mongol nomads living there, but also incorporated some of the larger sedentary-based civilisations of the time into their realm, such as the Chinese, the north-eastern domains of the Orthodox Christian kingdoms, and the eastern and central lands of the Islamic world. Ögetei Khan (r. 1229–41), son and successor of Chinggis Khan, continued his father's military expansion towards central and southern China in the East and into the Russian steppes in the West. The western front of the Mongol conquest defeated the Cumans and Qipchaq federations on the Volga River, subdued the principalities of Novgorod and Vladimir, and annexed the territories of the Rus Federation by sacking its capital Kiev in late 1240. Then, the Mongols continued into eastern Europe, defeating a fragmented Polish army before proceeding to invade Dalmatia, Moravia and Hungary. While the Mongols were preparing for the invasion of Austria, the princes leading the expedition heard the news that the Great Khan Ögetei had died and they turned for home to participate in the election of the new Mongol leader. In their return eastward, the Mongols sacked Bulgaria but the sudden death of the Khan saved central Europe from a more widespread Mongol invasion.

In the early 1230s, Ögetei Khan appointed Chormaqan as the leading commander of the western Mongol territories. He settled in Azerbaijan, from where he directed the pursuit of the fugitive Khwarazm sultan Jalal al-Din and sent his troops to raid Georgia, Armenia and eastern Anatolia on several occasions.12 The Mongol looting of these regions forced the Seljuq sultan ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad I to submit to the Great Khan but the sultan died; his successor Kaykhusraw II took some time to put together the embassy that would send gifts and confirmation of submission to the Great Khan. However, while the embassy of Kaykhusraw II was on its way, a number of deaths among the different participants in the agreement complicated the deal. In the years 1241–42, both Ögetei Khan and Chormaqan died and Baiju was appointed as his replacement on the western front.13 In the absence of his son Güyük (r. 1246–48), who was fighting in eastern Europe, the throne of the Great Khan was occupied by the widow regent empress Töregene Khatun (r. 1241–46).14 It has been suggested that the power vacuum caused by the death of Ögetei was used by Batu Khan (d. 1255) to incorporate the Caucasus into his domains to the detriment of other Chinggisid lineages. The death of Chormaqan, who was the major authority in the region, removed the opposition and favoured Batu's agenda, so that Batu managed to bring Baiju under his command.15 With the backing of Batu, Baiju decided to disregard the offer of submission of the sultan of Rum and moved westward to invade Anatolia from the east. He easily took Erzurum and occupied central parts of the peninsula.16 Kaykhusraw II tried to react to the invasion and directed his army to confront the Mongols. The two armies met at Köse Dağ on 6 Muharram AH 641 (26 June 1243).17

The outcome of the Battle of Köse Dağ was a clear defeat for Kaykhusraw II, who, after committing strategic mistakes on the battlefield, was forced to flee before the end of the conflict, abandoning his troops to find refuge first in Tokat before returning to Konya and then moving to his winter palace in Antalya.18 Unlike the previous incursions by the Mongols in Anatolia, the invaders did not retreat to Azerbaijan after the Battle of Köse Dağ. Instead, they took Kayseri and Sivas and then moved south-east to sack Harran, as well as peacefully acquiring Mardin.19 Baiju first directed his troops into Diyarbakır and the Jazira, and then into Syria and the Crusader principality of Antioch. In the face of the catastrophic defeat of the sultan's forces, Kaykhusraw seems to have removed himself from the frontline of the diplomacy of the sultanate, leaving the negotiation of a peace treaty with the Mongols in the hands of his court officials.20 This time, however, the embassy acknowledging Kaykhusraw's submission to the Mongols was not sent to the imperial capital in Qaraqorum in Mongolia but to the court of Batu Khan based on the lower Volga River. With this act, the Seljuqs of Rum entered into the sphere of influence of the Golden Horde and inaugurated a new political order in the region.21 Batu appointed Shams al-Din Muhammad al-Isfahani as governor of Rum, evidencing, for the first time, a direct involvement of the Mongols in the internal power dynamics of the sultanate. From that moment onwards, viziers such as Isfahani would increase their role in the administration of the realm by acting as regents for underaged sultans.22

In the 1250s, Hülegü (d. 1265), a grandson of Chinggis Khan, assembled a large army in Mongolia and advanced westward. Not encountering any serious military opposition, the Mongol military annexed the territories corresponding to present-day Afghanistan, Iran and eastern Turkey to the Mongol Empire and went further into the Arab world by conquering Damascus and advancing as far as Jerusalem. In the process, the Mongols added the newly conquered territories to their dominions and destroyed the hitherto impenetrable fortress of the Ismailis in Alamut, sacked the city of Baghdad and executed the Abbasid caliph in 1258.23 Hülegü's conquests led to the establishment of the Mongol Ilkhanid dynasty in Iran that ruled the region between 1260 and 1335. From the point of view of Mongol history, the newly added Mongol domain quickly became an autonomous political entity within the Mongol Empire that competed with other similar Mongol khanates of the Golden Horde and Chaghatai (Central Asia). But from the point of view of Islamic history, the Ilkhanate transformed the political borders of the previous Abbasid, Seljuq, Khwarazmian and Ayyubid dynasties, and provoked a profound change in the conception of rule in Iran, which for the first time in over 600 years was ruled by a non-Muslim ruler with seemingly omnipresent military power. The impact of the Mongol conquest on the cultural history of Iran has been addressed by scholars of medieval Islamic history and Iranian Studies to a certain extent. Especially in the last few decades, studies on the political, social and economic aspects of the Ilkhanate have been undertaken both in Iran and in the West.24 Abundant research has been done on some aspects of Mongol rule in Iran, exploring the role of the Ilkhans, their wives and some Mongol officials in the administration of Iran during the Mongol period.25

The establishment of the Ilkhanate with its capital in Tabriz also had a deep impact in Anatolia. Although since the submission agreement between Batu and the amirs of Kaykhusraw II the sultanate of Rum had fallen under the influence of the Golden Horde, in 1251 a *quraltai* (Mongol royal assembly) that elected Möngke as the Great Khan had granted Hülegü all the western territories of the empire.26 In Hülegü's interpretation of his orders, his brother would have included Iran, Iraq and the *tamma* (garrison) of Rum assigned originally to Chormaqan and Baiju. Consequently, when Hülegü's army, including members of all the different Mongol uluses (states), conquered Iran, sacked Baghdad and settled in Tabriz, Anatolia became a territory of conflict between the new Mongols of Iran and the Golden Horde. When Hülegü arrived in the Caucasus, he forced Baiju to switch alliance from the Golden Horde to the newly arrived Mongols and commanded him to immediately dispatch his soldiers to reconquer Anatolia in his name.27 A large army commanded by Baiju marched into the peninsula. The sultan ʿIzz al-Din Kaykaʾus II (r. 1246–60), grandson of Kaykhusraw II, tried to oppose the Mongols but was defeated at the Battle of Aksaray in 1256 and forced to flee to Nicaea.28 As Andrew Peacock has observed, the presence of the Mongol army in the peninsula had both political and cultural consequences. On the one hand, it pushed the Turkmen into the corners of the peninsula and into more peripheral areas such as Kastamonu. On the other hand, the Turkic background of the Mongols also contributed to the ongoing process of Turkicisation of Anatolia from a majority Greek-Christian area into a Turco-Muslim territory.

From this moment onwards, the fate of the Seljuq sultans would be decided neither in Konya, nor at the Golden Horde, but from Iran. Hülegü divided Anatolia between the two Seljuq contenders to the throne. He agreed to restore Rukn al-Din Kılıç Arslan IV (r. 1248–65) after he went to Iran to pay homage to the Mongol ruler, but the Ilkhan forced him to share his position with the

defeated Kaykaʾus II who, profiting from the absence of Rukn al-Din, had reconquered Konya with the help of the Byzantines. Hülegü's Solomonic decision would not be in force for too long because a new political figure was consolidating power in the peninsula. Muʿin al-Din Sulayman *Parvāna* (d. 1277), at the time a vizier of Rukn al-Din, plotted against Kaykaʾus II until the sultan was forced into exile in Byzantium first, and then obliged to find refuge in Crimea in 1262. This left Rukn al-Din IV as the sole ruler of the Seljuqs under the protectorate of the Mongols of Iran and the influence of the *parvāna*. However, conflict arose between the sultan and the governor due to the increasing influence of the latter in assigning land and positions to his own followers. Eventually, the sultan was assassinated and Muʿin al-Din, having full support of the Ilkhanate, appointed Ghiyath al-Din Kaykhusraw III (1265–84), the underage son of Rukn al-Din, as the sultan of a realm under the real control of the *parvāna*.

This opened an unstable political period in Anatolia marked by a weak sultan, powerful viziers, internal revolts and the involvement of foreign powers in the sultanate's affairs. While Muʿin al-Din Parvana increased his power, the Mongols demanded his military support for their war against the growing influence of the Mamluks in Syria. Anatolia acquired an increasing importance for the Ilkhans as a source of men and resources, which in turn made it a target of the Mamluk Sultan Baybars (r. 1260–77), who not only offered refuge to exiled members of the family of Sultan Kaykaʾus II, but also increased his influence in the politics of the Seljuq sultanate of Rum during the 1270s. Domestically, the sultanate was also subject to the constant rebellion of different Turkmen groups that, like the Chobanids of Kastamonu, began to consolidate their power in different areas of the peninsula. The most threatening of these revolts was that organised by Muhammad Beg (r. 1261–78), leader of the Qaramanids, who managed to bring different Turkmen groups under his command and to challenge both the Mongols and Seljuqs for political hegemony in the peninsula. Despite initial military gains, which included the conquest of Konya, Muhammad Beg was eventually defeated by a combined Seljuq-Mongol army and executed in 1278. Contemporary to these events, Baybars, the Mamluk sultan of Egypt (r. 1260–77), apparently allying with Muʿin al-Din Sulayman Parvana, invaded Anatolia in 1277. The Mamluks seem to have been betrayed by the *parvāna*, who never joined the Mamluk expedition, and the Ilkhan Abaqa (r. 1265–82) eventually managed to force the Mamluks to withdraw back to Syria. This turbulent period of the sultanate's history finished with the execution of Muʿin al-Din Parvana and the re-organisation of the sultanate by the Mongol envoy Shams al-Din Juwayni (d. 1284).29

During the last two decades of the 13th century, the Mongols returned to their policy of divide and rule in Anatolia. They first split the sultanate between Ghiyath al-Din Kaykhusraw III (1265–84) and Masʿud II (r. 1284–1308), and then Tegüder Ilkhan (r. 1282–84) commanded the execution of the former for treason and left the latter as the sole ruler of the sultanate. His successor Arghun (r. 1284–91) confirmed Masʿud II as sultan but simultaneously appointed his brother Geykhatu as governor of Anatolia, with the idea of establishing a more visible presence of Mongol rule in the peninsula. The new governor counted on the support of powerful officials such as the amir Mujir al-Din b. Muʿtazz and the vizier Fakhr al-Din Qazvini. However, when Arghun died in 1291, the appointment of Geykhatu as Ilkhan created a power vacuum in the peninsula that triggered the eruption of different Turkmen revolts, including that of Kastamonu in 1291–93, which would end the life of Muzaffar al-Din Choban.30 Geykhatu's departure from Anatolia initiated a chaotic period in the history of the peninsula that saw an increase in Qaramanid autonomy, and different revolts erupting against Mongol rule. Sultan Masʿud II sided with one of these revolts commanded by a certain Baltu in 1297, forcing the new Ilkhan Ghazan (r. 1295–1304) to remove Masʿud from office and appoint a nephew of Sultan ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad III (1298–1302). In trying to secure the loyalty of the sultanate, the Ilkhan made the unusual move of allowing Kayqubad III to marry a Mongol princess.31 However, only four years after his appointment, the new sultan was also involved in yet another revolt that was suppressed by Ghazan in 1302. This led to Kayqubad III's exile to Isfahan and the re-establishment of Masʿud II as sultan of Rum for a second and final term.

Our knowledge of the second term of Masʿud II is vague and generally omitted in the sources. Although some coins were minted at the beginning of his reign, we do not have any information about his deeds in the first decade of the 14th century and he seems to have vanished into thin air around 1308 without leaving any traces in the sources about the date of his death or any apparent heir to the throne. Incidentally, the disappearance of the Seljuq dynasty of Rum coincides with the end of the Chobanids in Kastamonu and the emergence of the Jandarid dynasty as the ruling Turkmen in the area. The disappearance of Masʿud II might be less of a mystery but yet another example of a political re-structuring within a more general policy of the Mongols carried out by the Ilkhan Öljeitü (r. 1304–16) and implemented across the Ilkhanate. In the 14th century, the Ilkhans decided to remove local dynasties from their territories and devised a more direct rule over those peripheral territories under their rule, such as southern Iran and Anatolia. It seems that after 50 years of Mongol rule in Iran and with the conversion of the Ilkhans to Islam, the Mongols could manage without the legitimacy provided by local Turkic rulers in these areas. The end of the Seljuqs of Rum is contemporary with the removal of the Salghurids of Fars and the Qutlughkhanids of Kerman, opening a period of direct Mongol rule across the Ilkhanate that would last until the end of the last Ilkhan of Iran, Abu Saʿid (r. 1316–35). The Seljuqs' disappearance, however, did not mean that Anatolia was unified under the Mongols. Instead, the 14th century is generally considered 'the beylik period', in which different principalities competed for power and territory in Anatolia until a supposed reunification took place under the Ottomans. Nevertheless, as we will see in this book, Anatolia was far from unified during the 13th century, with peripheral powers such as that of the Chobanids playing a fundamental role in shaping the history of Seljuq and Mongol Anatolia during the 13th and 14th centuries.

### **1.3 Anatolia, land of opportunities: Migrations and the Anatolian cultural revolution from the 12th to the 14th century**

The political history of Anatolia in the 13th century mixes armed conflict, political fragmentation and unstable rule, but simultaneously this was a period of rich cultural production that began in the 12th century, reached its peak during the reign of ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad I (r. 1220–37) and was maintained into the 14th century. This cultural process was not homogeneous through time, nor was it consistent across the peninsula. A quick look at this phenomenon highlights different stages in this cultural development that demonstrated different characteristics in terms of patronage, literary genres and language use that define different periods and regions in Seljuq and post-Seljuq Anatolia. In explaining the cultural and literary boom that tookplace in this period, scholars have highlighted a number of key factors that help to explain, even if only partially, why this region at the fringes of the Islamic world became a remarkable centre for cultural production in the 13th century, one equivalent to other areas where Islam had been rooted for longer than in Anatolia. Medieval Kastamonu was part of this phenomenon and the Chobanids played, as we will see, a crucial part in promoting culture in their realm. For this reason, it is relevant, even if in a schematic way, to present here some key aspects of the more general cultural context in which Chobanid rulers such as Muzaffar al-Din Choban lived and which inspired him to promote his own cultural initiatives.

Some of the characteristics shown in the development of literary production in Seljuq Anatolia are rooted in a model that had already been implemented during the reign of the Great Seljuqs (r. 1040–1220). Early Seljuq sultans such as Alp Arslan (r. 1063–72), Malik Shah (r. 1072–92), or Sanjar (r. 1117–57) actively financed poets, scientists and men of letters during their reign.32 The decentralised nature of the Great Seljuq Empire meant that patronage was not confined to a single place or restricted to the imperial court. The Seljuq sultans moved their court around their territories and selected different regions as their main dwelling areas. For example, Malik Shah would choose Isfahan as his capital, while Sanjar promoted patronage of literature in the Central Asian city of Marv. In addition, the decentralisation of the state meant that governors, local officials and royal family members would promote and finance literary production across Iran and Central Asia in areas like Hamadan in the West or Nishapur and Herat in the East. After the death of Sanjar, political instability grew in the empire and certain territories acquired further political autonomy from the Seljuq court. Regions such as Khwarazm, Kerman, Azerbaijan and Anatolia developed local dynasties related to the Seljuqs which, in turn, would carry out their own patronage activity.33

The extensive court patronage seen across the Seljuq Empire did not materialise in Anatolia immediately after the conquest of the peninsula in the late 11th century.34 We need to wait until the late 12th century for evidence of courtly patronage of men of letters at the court of the Seljuqs of Rum. This might be due to the fact that before this period, the Seljuq court in Anatolia might not have developed a 'complex bureaucratic apparatus' such as the one already existing at the court of the Great Seljuq Empire.35 Therefore, literary patronage began to emerge in Anatolia during the reign of Kılıç Arslan II (r. 1156–92), when the sultanate consolidated territorial expansion in Anatolia and began to shift its political and intellectual association less towards Byzantium and more into the Muslim world. This does not mean that the Greek culture vanished from Anatolia or that large parts of the peninsula's population ceased to be culturally Greek. Rather, it evidences that once they consolidated their political and economic power, the Seljuq sultans of Rum began to see themselves as part of the Islamic world's dynastic, religious and cultural tradition.

The reasons behind this burst in cultural activity in the Seljuq sultanate of Rum in the 13th century are multiple and complex. The transformation of Anatolia from a border-zone territory into a centre of literary production of the Islamic world certainly has political, economic and social roots. First, political circumstances such as the collapse of the Seljuq dynasty of Iraq with the death of Tughril III (d. 1194) left the Seljuqs of Rum as the only legitimate political descendants of the prestigious Great Seljuq Empire. This gave the Seljuq sultans a boost in confidence regarding the legitimacy of their court in Konya as the sole rightful heirs to the prestigious dynasty of the Great Seljuqs. Similarly, the Mongols' emergence in Central Asia and their conquest of the empire of Khwarazmshah shook the political balance in the Islamic world. The distance of the Seljuqs of Rum from the Mongol threat in the first half of the 13th century helped to further increase their prestige and consolidated their position in the Islamic world. Second, the Seljuqs of Rum enjoyed favourable economic conditions in this period thanks to prosperous trade relationships not only with Iran but also with Syria, and especially with the Black Sea after the conquest of city of Sudak in 1223 by Husam al-Din Choban.36 The peninsula itself also provided important revenues to the Seljuq court. The Seljuqs had incomes from the production of agricultural products such as wine and grain, from which they obtained important revenues for the royal treasury.37 Booty from raids and military campaigns in Christian territories in the form of slaves who were sold in slave markets was also an important source of income.38 Finally, these circumstances were accompanied by the social phenomenon of the migration of literati and religious men from different parts of the Islamic world. This migration was sometimes forced by political circumstances such as the Mongol invasions or regional instability, sometimes stimulated by the economic opportunities created in prosperous Anatolia, and often a consequence of both.

The migration of people into Anatolia from different parts of the Islamic world is a pivotal phenomenon to understand the socio-cultural and religious transformations that occurred in the peninsula from the late 11th century up to the mid-15th century. The arrival of people with Turkic, Persian, Arab and Mongol backgrounds during this period is one reason – albeit not the only one – that explains the long but steady process of Islamisation of Anatolia.39 Traditionally, it was understood that these groups occupied very specific roles in the social structure of Anatolia after the Battle of Manzikert. In this view, while Turkic groups became a military and political elite in the peninsula, those individuals having a Persian or Arabic cultural background would mostly be accommodated as members of the administration, involved in cultural and professional activities, or play a role in the region's religious life. Despite being a useful categorisation based on the view portrayed in historical sources, this division of society is rather arbitrary and does not reflect aspects of cultural hybridity, transculturation and multiculturalism that were certainly present in medieval Anatolia. In addition, these migrations have often been explained as the movement westward of an elite of literati and religious leaders fleeing the Mongol invasion at the beginning of the 13th century. However, the process was neither unidirectional, since, for example, some scholars such as the Iberian Ibn ʿArabi (d. 1240) came from the west, nor was it solely motivated by the Mongol invasions of Central Asia in 1218, since many Central Asian and Iranian migrants are documented arriving in Anatolia from at least the 11th century.40

The new political scenario seems to have 'engendered a new confidence in a court that explicitly sought to adopt sophisticated Persian cultural models, as signified by the sultans' use of regal names redolent of ancient Iranian legend as recorded in Firdawsi's *Shahnama*'.41 More recently, it has been suggested that the adoption of Persian names by the Seljuq Sultans might be also connected to the influence of Perso-Islamic Neoplatonism and mystical ideas permeating the court at the time of Kilij Arslan (d. 1192).42 This context of political reassurance, philosophical enlightment and economic benevolence certainly favoured the development of courtly patronage that would begin during the reign of Kılıç Arslan II (r. 1156–92) and would continue throughout the 13th century, when the patronage activity would be extended to courtly officials, local amirs and peripheral Turkmen dynasties such as the Chobanids of Kastamonu. The sultanate of Rum became a pole of attraction to people in search of a better future as a place where there was a prospect of financial reward and social promotion. Patronage played a fundamental role in attracting individuals and articulating personal interaction in the multicultural environment of medieval Anatolia. The peninsula became a land of opportunity for literate men who would compose, edit, or copy literary works in Persian and Arabic before dedicating them to Seljuq sultans, amirs, or officials in exchange for economic reward or a position at the court. For example, as early as during the last decades of the 12th century, Kılıç Arslan II was the dedicatee of the work *Kamil al-taʿbir*, 43 written by a migrant court physician Hubaysh al-Tiflisi (d. *c*. 1204), one of the early works produced in Anatolia dealing with the interpretation of dreams.44 In addition to the sultan, the maliks ruling regions of the peninsula also became active patrons of literature in this period. For example, just to mention some of them, the Central Asian-born Yahya b. Habash Suhrawardi (d. 1191) dedicated one of his works known as *Partawnama*45 to the ruler of Niksar, and the local ruler of Tokat was mentioned in a qasida written by the poet Zahir al-Din Faryabi (d. 1201).46

Literary patronage among the Seljuqs of Rum intensified during the first half of the 13th century, a period generally considered as the peak of political, economic and cultural achievement of the sultanate. Different works dedicated either to Seljuq sultans or members of the ruling elite were composed in this period in both Arabic and Persian.47 Some of these works reflect an increasing interest in a Perso-Islamic tradition that would be predominant at the Seljuq court of the 13th century. Many works composed for Seljuq sultans would be authored by migrants coming from the wider Islamic world, but, at the beginning of this century, local Anatolian writers would also contribute to the growing demand for literary works from the court. For example, Muhammad b. Ghazi of Malatya composed in 1201 the *Rawdat al-ʿuqul*, a Persian collection of fables, and dedicated it to Sultan Rukn al-Din Sulayman Shah.48 Then, in 1209, he would continue his literary production by composing the *Barid al-saʿada*, a work on political advice composed in Sivas for his student and future sultan of Rum ʿIzz al-Din Kaykaʾus I (r. 1211–20).49 In this early period, migrants continued to arrive in the peninsula and the Iranian-born Muhammad b. ʿAli Ravandi (f. 1202) dedicated his *Rahat al-sudur* to Ghiyath al-Din Kaykhusraw I (r. 1192–96 and 1205–11).50

This tendency for court patronage among the Seljuqs of Rum would reach its peak during the reign of ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad I (1220–37). A remarkable number of texts connected to the reign of this sultan have survived to our day. Perhaps the most popular is the *Mirsad al-ʿibad* written by the Iranian Sufi Najm al-Din Razi (d. 1256).51 This work is a Sufi mirror for princes dedicated to Kayqubad I during the period when Razi was living in Anatolia in the first half of the 13th century. However, as Peacock has noted, the wide circulation of this text was not in the version offered to the sultan but rather a less sophisticated edition made for a less royal Sufi audience.52 Even though the Persian language acquired great prestige in the Seljuq court during this period, Arabic remained an important literary language due to its long literary tradition and its status as the language of Islam.53 Hence, in addition to Persian texts, to Kayqubad was dedicated the Arabic work *al-Ajwiba ʿan ishkalat al-Imam al-Razi fi al-Qanun fi al-tibb*, composed by Najm al-Din al-Nakhjavani (active 13th century) as a commentary on a work on medicine by the famous Ibn Sina (d. 1037).54 Further, we know of other authors that were also under the financial patronage of Kayqubad during this period. The little-known Yahya b. Saʿid b. Ahmad (*fl.* 13th c.), the author of a mirror for princes in Persian entitled *Hadayiq al-siyar* composed possibly while in exile in Erzincan and Aḥmad b. Saʿd al-ʿUthmani al-Zanjani (d. *c.* 1227), author of the *al-Lataʾif al-ʿalaʾiyya*, are among those literati that enjoyed the financial support of the sultan.55

The arrival of the Mongols in the middle decades of the 13th century did not interrupt the literary production of Anatolia. In fact, Mongol domination

helped the integration of the sultanate into the broader Islamic world, opening the region to further migrations of scholars and religious leaders whose presence in Anatolia would increase in the second half of the 13th century.56 Mongol rule in Anatolia promoted a further influx of people into Anatolia, either directly, through the patronage of its own officials in the peninsula, or indirectly by forcing the migration westward of people. Mongol officials such as Shams al-Din Juwayni or Muʿin al-Din Parvana were active patrons of literature during the Mongol occupation of Anatolia. The former is credited for promoting the spread of Iranian culture in the peninsula by appointing men of Iranian origin into different positions in the administration of Anatolia.57 An active patron of literature, Shams al-Din Juwayni (d. 1284) appears in the dedication of works by poets such as Humam-i Tabrizi (d. 1314) and in two works by Qutb al-Din Shirazi (d. 1311), the famous scholar who Juwayni appointed as qadi of Sivas.58 Similarly, Muʿin al-Din appears as the dedicatee of the *Mashariq al-darari*, a Persian commentary on a Sufi poem written by the Central Asian migrant Muhammad b. Ahmad Farghani.59 It is in this context that local rulers and officials from across Anatolia would recognise the prestige that patronage could bring to their political aspirations and join Mongol officials in financially supporting the production of literary works. The same Qutb al-Din Shirazi dedicated works not only to a ruler of Chobanid Kastamonu, as we will see in Chapter 3, but also produced a Persian translation of a classical Greek work on mathematics by Euclid (*Tarjuma-yi Tahrir-i usul-i Uqlidis*) for Taj al-Din Mutʿazz b. Tahir, a bureaucrat in the Seljuq court whose father was brought to Anatolia when he acted as ambassador for his former lord Jalal al-Din Khwarazmshah during the 1220s.60

The migration process and the literary production in 13th-century Anatolia also had a special religious component. Islam in general and Sufism in particular appears to have been appealing in Anatolia to those local rulers in the lower layers of political influence. Many of those who found their way to the peninsula from Central Asia and Iran were religious scholars and Sufi masters who received the patronage of the Seljuq sultans, Mongol officials and local rulers throughout the 13th century. The better known of these Sufi leaders is the family of Jalal al-Din Rumi, who left their original homeland of Balkh in Central Asia to travel across Iraq and Iran to finally settle in Anatolia. Rumi's father, Bahaʾ al-Din Valad (d. 1231), was a Sufi thinker who initially tried to find residence in various Anatolian cities such as Sivas, Erzincan and Karaman (Larende) before eventually settling in Konya in 1227–28 under the patronage of Sultan ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad I.61 The close relationship with the court continued under Jalal al-Din Rumi (d. 1273), his son Sultan Valad (d. 1312) and their followers of the Mevlevi Sufi order.62 However, the case of Rumi's family was not unique and other Sufi personalities such as Abu Hafs ʿUmar Suhrawardi (d. 1234),63 Najm al-Din Razi (d. 1256)64 and Awhad al-Din Kirmani (d. 1237–8),65 just to mention a few examples, would play a fundamental role in the development of different Sufi ideas and practices in 13th-century Anatolia. Whether these Sufi migrants remained permanently in Anatolia or were only in transit, they all helped both to speed up the process of Islamisation in Anatolia and to integrate the territory further into the broader intellectual and religious networks of the Islamic world.66

Native and migrant Sufis also contributed to the prolific literary activity of 13th-century Anatolia. Sufi texts were patronised by rulers, circulated across elite circles and read by followers of these Sufi leaders across the peninsula.67 Sufis produced works on a variety of genres including doctrinal texts, poetry or hagiographies (lives of Sufi saints) which, like other works on astronomy, fiqh (Islamic law), or literature mentioned above, would compete for patronage, be copied by scribes and circulate in the hands of followers across the territory. However, manuscript evidence suggests that, with the exception of the works of Jalal al-Din Rumi, the literary production of 13th-century Anatolia had little impact in the intellectual production outside the peninsula. Instead, Sufi literature produced there would be highly influential in 14th-century Anatolia, and especially once the Ottomans consolidated their control of the peninsula from the 15th century onwards.

Migrant Sufis from Central Asia and Iran certainly promoted Persian as a literary language since a large proportion of the Sufi literature produced in Anatolia in the 13th century was in this language. Arabic remained a widely used literary language while Turkish would only begin to challenge Persian as the preferable vehicle of Sufi literature in Anatolia after the decline of Mongol rule there during the 14th century.68 Political, economic and social circumstances during the 12th and the 13th centuries transformed Anatolia from a peripheral borderland of Islam into a 'land of opportunity' for men of letters, fortune seekers, religious leaders and professionals from across the Muslim world. Their migration contributed to a literary revolution that saw a boom in the production, dissemination and consumption of knowledge in 13thcentury Anatolia. Although this phenomenon received important support from the court, it also extended into other areas of the peninsula. The Chobanids of Kastamonu are an example of how these practices initiated by the Seljuqs and the Mongols were continued by local Turkmen rulers, becoming an important source of income and prestige for migrants that arrived in Anatolia in search of a better future.

### **1.4 Medieval Kastamonu: A borderland between Islam and Christianity**

In terms of geography, Kastamonu is a region of hilly terrain dominated by forests and patches of agricultural land. The borders of this territory coincide broadly with the Byzantine province of Paphlagonia, overseen by one main urban centre. The town was among other urban centres in Anatolia such as Sinop, Trebizond, or Iconium (Konya) at the time of the Turkish invasion of the late 11th century, but functioned more as a military garrison rather than a centre of cultural life. The town of Kastamonu is situated in a narrow valley created by a small tributary river of the upper Gokırmak in the northwestern corner of the Anatolian Peninsula. In medieval times, the citadel

lay on the western bank of the river, crowned at the top of the hill by the Byzantine castle that still dominates the valley from its strategic location. It is surprising that despite the town having a privileged strategic position along the ancient Roman trade route into Anatolia, there is no mention of the city in any documents extant from the late Roman period and there are no references to the town in Byzantine sources until the 11th century. It is possible that the new town developed only in the 10th or 11th century out of a military garrison when other more important urban centres of the region such as Pompeiopolis (modern Taşköprü) began to decline.69 Different attempts have been made to explain the city's toponym, from its association with ancient towns such as Germanicopolis or Sora to try to connect the phonetic relation between the name of the city and the ancient Hittites.70 However, neither of these theories seems to be conclusive enough and it is generally accepted – albeit not convincing the majority of scholars in the field – that the name Kastamonu could be related to the extensive property that the imperial Comneni family had in the region.71

More concrete references to the town of Kastamonu appear in Byzantine sources during the early 12th century. The Byzantine princess Anna Comnena (d. 1153), author of the biographical and historical account of the Byzantine Empire known as the *Alexiad*, mentions in passing the town of Kastamonu when describing the time when her father Alexius Comnenus (d. 1118) was a military commander of the imperial troops during the late 11th century. She mentions that, after confronting a group of Turkmen soldiers in Amasya, her father was returning to Constantinople when he was ambushed by a different Turkmen group in the proximity of Kastamonu.72 She does not offer any description of the town or make any special mention of the relevance of this urban settlement for the fate of her father. However, according to Anna Comnena, in his retreat, the emperor found the whole region deserted by Greeks and occupied by Turks raiding freely in the area.73 Despite a short-lived reconquest of the region by the now-emperor John Comnenus in 1123 from the Danishmandids, the settlement of Turkic people in the area continued until, by the mid-12th century, Byzantine forces had retreated completely and groups of Turkmen seem to have established military control over the Kastamonu countryside. During the reign of the Seljuq sultan Rukn al-Din Sulayman Shah II (r. 1196–1204), the region of Kastamonu seems to have been closely bound to the Seljuqs of Rum, though maintaining an important degree of political autonomy. In the 13th century, Ibn Saʿid al-Maghribi, an Andalusian traveller who visited Anatolia, mentions that this was a 'stronghold of the Turkomans'.74

Byzantine Anatolia was the heartland of agricultural Byzantium at the time of the Turkish invasions. However, the mountainous terrain of Kastamonu makes this territory among the least fertile for extensive agriculture and the production of wheat, grapes, or olives, just some of the products cultivated on the peninsula during Byzantine times.75 The Pontic Range to the south and the Black Sea to the north are geographical features that determined land productivity and availability of crops in medieval Kastamonu. The Arab geographer al-ʿUmari (d. 1349) reports that the region's forests provided timber for ship construction for the port of Sinop.76 Ibn Battuta, who spent 40 days in the city during the 14th century, describes it as 'one of the largest and finest of cities, where commodities are abundant and prices low'.77 He describes different products available, including fat mutton and bread, and also local produce such as sweetmeats made of honey, walnuts and chestnuts.78 The abundant supply of wood meant firewood was extremely cheap in the region, something Ibn Battuta was grateful for, as he found the region extremely cold. Although Ibn Battuta's visit occurred during the early Jandarid period in the history of Kastamonu, there is no reason to believe that the availability of products in the city's markets differed greatly only a few decades earlier during the Chobanid rule of the city.

Not being a major centre of agricultural production, the main economic activity of the region seems to have been trade and a humble artisan production of at least some woollen products from local animals.79 This is reinforced by a passing reference in early 14th-century sources to the presence of an *akhī* (brotherhood) acting in the city of Kastamonu.80 An isolated mention of a certain Şeyh Ahi Şurve appears in a *waqf* (endowment) foundation dated Rabiʿ I AH 703 (October 1303), where he donates a number of properties for the foundation of a *zāwiya* (lodge).81 Although controversial and often disputed by scholars, the term *akhī* is generally used to describe the leaders of groups of unmarried Muslim men who congregated in communities generally referred as *futuwwa*. 82 These men organised in fraternities were not only devoted – often violent – religious individuals, but the majority of them were involved in commerce and trade or are described as craftsmen, artisans and merchants living in urban settlements.83 The presence of these individuals and the foundation of *futuwwa zāwiya*s in Chobanid Kastamonu is evidence of the consolidation of Islam in the city of Kastamonu (discussed further in Chapter 3), but also denotes the presence of an incipient wealthy urban class connected to trade actively participating in the development of Kastamonu at the end of Chobanid rule.

Unlike other Anatolian cities, Kastamonu's economic activity appears to have been oriented towards the north and west instead of the east. The influence of the Mongols of Iran seems to have been limited in Kastamonu in terms of commercial ties. Writing from the Ilkhanate, Hamdallah Mustawfi (d. 1349) mentions that although it was of similar size to other Anatolian cities, the revenues obtained by the Ilkhans from Kastamonu (15,000 dinars) were only a third of the dividends received from Niğde (45,000 dinars) and only a tenth of Niksar (187,000), both described, like Kastamonu, as medium-sized cities by the Persian historian.84 As their city was strategically located on the crossroads between the routes connecting the Black Sea with central Anatolia and Constantinople with the eastern parts of the peninsula, Kastamonu's rulers benefited from the commerce that passed through their territories.85 As a frontier zone, political tensions and military confrontations between Christian and Muslim armies on the border caused the occasional closure of trade routes and disruptions in commerce in the region.86 References to the 13th century are scarce but during the early 14th century we know that horses were bred in the region and later sold in markets as far away as Egypt.87 The apparent influx of Qipchaqs and Cumans into the region of Kastamonu in the mid-13th century might have favoured trade across the Black Sea, which became especially lucrative.88 Through the port of Sinop,89 which in different periods was under the command of Kastamonu's rulers, there was trade in slaves, grain and horses between northern Anatolia and the Crimean Peninsula under the protection of the Mongols of the Golden Horde in the mid-13th century.90 The slave trade seems to have been especially profitable, expanding its routes into the Mediterranean Sea where slaves captured in the region of Kastamonu are documented as being sold in the markets of the island of Crete to be shipped to Venice.91

Medieval Anatolia's political developments transformed Paphlagonia/ Kastamonu from a Byzantine province into a multicultural and pluri-religious borderland. The social composition of medieval Kastamonu is difficult to reconstruct with the available sources. However, we know that Turkic people arrived in Kastamonu in different waves.92 After the first wave of Turkic people that penetrated westward into Anatolia and ambushed Alexius Comnenus at the end of the 11th century, a new wave of Turkmen followed during the early decades of the 13th century and continued into the 14th century.93 The newcomers were being pushed westwards by the political instability created in Central Asia and Khurasan by the Mongol invasions.94 Groups of Turkmen arrived in the vicinity of Kastamonu around the 1250s and 1260s, when the concentration of Turkmen reached a peak around the border between the Seljuqs and the Empire of Nicaea.95 The Turkic population further increased in Anatolia after the arrival of Cuman Turks from across the Black Sea and the Mongol armies and officials that would settle in the peninsula from the second half of the 13th century onwards. The presence of these groups in Kastamonu is poorly documented but, as we will see in Chapter 2, there is evidence suggesting that one of the region's rulers in the 1250s was of Cuman origin. In addition to these Turco-Mongol groups, there is evidence that urban people of Iranian and Central Asian origin accompanied the Turkic migration from the very beginning. An inscription in the city of Nicaea suggests that these Persianised individuals were part of the contingent of people that invaded the region at the end of the 11th century.96 In Kastamonu, the presence of these urban Persian individuals is documented only from the 1260s onwards and becomes more visible after the 1280s.97 Finally, even less clear is the fate of the native Greek population that lived in Kastamonu at the time of the Turkmens' advance on the region in the 11th century. We cannot but speculate that some might have found refuge in other regions of the Byzantine Empire, but a proportion of this population might also have remained in the region. It is possible that Greek people remained the majority of the population of the town of Kastamonu and urban areas of the region until the 1250s, when we have the first architectural and documentary evidence of Turkmen presence in urban settlements in Kastamonu (see Chapter 3).

### 32 *A territory in transformation: Anatolia in the 13th century*

Like other parts of Anatolia, medieval Kastamonu was a region in profound transformation, where changing ways of living, shifting religious affiliation and mixed cultural identities were common among its inhabitants. There has been debate on to what extent a nomadic lifestyle remained among Turkic populations once they had settled in Anatolia after the 11th century. There is a general consensus, however, that a process of sedentarisation affected these Turkic people so that the majority of the Turkmen had abandoned their nomadic lifestyle by the mid-13th century, settling down more or less permanently in different regions across the peninsula.98 In the case of the Chobanids of Kastamonu, evidence of this process is poorly documented because we lack any specific reference to their way of life or precise place of dwelling until the 1280s. However, as we will see, one of the first references in the sources to Husam al-Din Choban is that he was appointed commander of the Seljuq fleet that attacked Crimea in the early 1220s (see Chapter 2). Commanding ships can hardly be considered a nomadic activity, suggesting that as early as the initial decades of the 13th century, the Chobanids might have begun to sedentarise in the region despite maintaining some nomadic characteristics, such as a preference for horse-riding and hunting, and the establishment of winter and summer camps within the area of their territory.99 A process of Islamisation also occurred in Kastamonu during the Chobanid period. The region shifted from being a Greek and Christian-dominated territory in the 10th century to a majority Muslim one at the time of the fall of the Chobanids in 1308. However, details of how this process occurred and how it affected local populations are poorly documented and we know almost nothing about the fate of the Christian communities that surely inhabited Kastamonu during this period.

We also know very little about the religious affiliation of the Chobanids before the 1270s. The foundation of mosques and shrines in rural areas of Kastamonu in the first half of the 13th century confirms an Islamic affiliation of Turkmen groups dwelling in the countryside, but they offer little information about the doctrines they followed.100 It is only after the 1270s that the Chobanid rulers' interest in Islam becomes more evident. The foundation of the Atabey Gazi mosque in the city of Kastamonu or the specific patronage of Muzaffar al-Din Choban (r. 1280–91) of literary works with clear religious components suggests that Islamisation in the region consolidated during the last decade of the 13th century. Similar difficulties can be found in trying to establish borders in the cultural or ethnic identity of the people living in Kastamonu. A broad distinction could be made between the Turkic origin of the Chobanid rulers, the Persianised identity of the people working as professionals, members of the court administration or religious classes, and a native Greek-Christian population that, for the most part, is absent from the available sources.101 However, these delimitations, although used across this book to categorise social groups, cannot be strictly followed. We do not have any reference to women in the Chobanid court and consequently we do not know if, like the Seljuqs, the Chobanid rulers married Christian wives. Similarly, although culturally embedded in Persian traditions and using Persian as his main choice for writing, we cannot rule out the possibility that Husam al-Din Khuʾi (d. *c*. 1308), who composed several works for the Chobanid rulers, was ethnically Turkish or had a strong Turkish identity. As with Islamisation, Turkicisation of the society also occurred and intensified in the 14th century when the Jandarid dynasty displaced the Chobanids from Kastamonu. However, during the 13th century, we should take into account the ambiguities and nuances involved when trying to in define social groups in medieval Kastamonu, both in terms of religious and ethno-cultural affiliation.

### **Notes**


### 36 *A territory in transformation: Anatolia in the 13th century*


*Islam*, Third Edition, online version; Shirazi dedicated a work on astronomy in Arabic (*Nihayat al-idrak fi dirayat al-aflak*) and another on Islamic jurisprudence (*Sharh al-fiqh*) to Juwayni. See M. Minuvi, 'Mulla Qutb al-Shirazi', in Vladimir Minorsky, Mujtaba Minuvi and Iraj Afshar (eds), *Yadnamah-yi Irani-yi Minurski* (Tehran: Danishgah-i Tihran 1969), pp. 165–205.


### 38 *A territory in transformation: Anatolia in the 13th century*

See Chapter 3. For a short account on the history of Pompeiopolis in late Antiquity, see Max Ritter, 'The End of Late Antiquity in Paphlagonia: Desurbanization from a Comparative Perspective', in Kristina Winther-Jacobsen and Lâtife Summerer (eds), *Landscape Dynamics and Settlement Patterns in Northern Anatolia during the Roman and Byzantine Period* (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag 2015), pp. 123–25.


### **2 A political history of the Chobanid dynasty**

By the time of the Battle of Manzikert in 1071, different groups of Turkmen people had been penetrating the Anatolian Peninsula for forty years. These territories could no longer be held by a Byzantine Empire submerged in internal turmoil and civil war.1 Only a few years after the battle, the region of Kastamonu (Byzantine province of Paphlagonia) saw the arrival of a group of Danishmandid Turks, who attacked the Byzantine emperor Alexius Comnenus when he was in the area in 1073–74. The emperor was taken by surprise by the mobile military capability of the Turks and was forced to flee from Kastamonu.2 The tradition of the Turkic settlement in the area attributes the conquest of the region to a general named Karatekin, who would have been responsible for also incorporating the cities of Sinop and Çankırı to the Danishmandid domains in 1084–85.3 Little is known about this period but it seems that the area remained in the hands of the Danishmandid dynasty, which persisted in its constant raiding of the coastal towns of the Black Sea.4

Sixty years after expelling the Byzantines from the region, the emperor John Comnenus (d. 1143) managed to retake the castle of Kastamonu in two occasions in 1132–33, from where the Byzantine troops advanced eastwards to occupy Çankırı before returning triumphantly to Constantinople in 1133.5 However, the military victory did not result in secure control over the territory. The death of both the Byzantine emperor and the Danishmandid ruler Muhammad within a few months of each other seems to have paved the way for the entrance of a third political actor in the region: the Seljuqs of Rum. Having their centre of power in the central parts of Anatolia, the Seljuqs appear to have incorporated Kastamonu into their domains at some point after 1143. It seems that after the conquest, the lands of Kastamonu were converted into an *iqṭāʿ* for the benefit of the sultan's family.6

Despite the nominal domination of the Seljuqs of Rum from the second half of the 12th century, an increasing number of Turkmen people of different origin settled in the region of Kastamonu.7 For this early period, little is known about these people, their social organisation, their religious affiliations, or their relationship with the Greek populations living in the area. It is assumed that they were nomads (or semi-nomads) and although the majority might have

#### DOI: 10.4324/9781351025782-3

This chapter has been made available under a CC BY 4.0 licence.

already converted to Islam before entering Anatolia, they were only slightly Islamised. Despite the uncertainty, it appears that rather than being a homogeneous group, these Turkmen possibly belonged to a variety of tribes and clans, as happened with other nomadic groups in pre-modern Eurasia, that formed confederations where their military capability acted as a common denominator.8 The ancestors of the members of the Chobanid dynasty that emerged in the 13th century arrived in the region in this period as part of the military contingent of Turkmen that began to operate in the border between Byzantium and the Seljuqs in western Anatolia.

It is difficult to be certain about the tribal origin of the Turkmen rulers who would start to become notorious in the 13th century. Most of the information we have for the period comes from later sources which see this poorly documented period as an ideal moment to fabricate the origin of their contemporary Turkish rulers.9 For example, the early Ottoman historian Yazıcızade Ali mentions that the founder of the Chobanid dynasty belonged to the Qayi (Kayı) tribe.10 It is interesting that there was a general perception in the early Ottoman court that Osman Bey (founder of the Ottoman dynasty) was also a member of the Kayı tribe.11 However, Wittek has questioned the veracity of these claims, suggesting that the connection between Osman and the Kayı tribe is only a fabrication of the Ottoman genealogists of the 15th century who were embedded in the 'romantic' movement in the court of Murad II (d. 1451) that was trying to connect the Ottomans to the principal line of the Oghuz Turks.12 However, both Wittek and Köprülü face the problem of having to base their opinions on references to a formative period that is poorly documented for both the building of later dynasties and about what constituted the borderland in the Seljuq sultanate.13

A similar fabrication of a myth of origin might have taken place in the case of the Chobanids, as the only reference we have on their tribal origins comes from Yazıcızade Ali in the early 15th century. However, unlike the case of the Ottomans, there was no specific political gain in making this attribution beyond the possibility of trying to connect both the early Ottomans and the Chobanids to a common origin.14 The moment when the ancestors of the Chobanids entered Anatolia is uncertain. References to upheavals among Turkmen and Kurdish tribes are recorded for the region of Mosul, but to what extent these conflicts displaced some of these groups westwards into Anatolia is unclear.15 Large numbers of Turkmen people settled in Anatolia in different waves from the 11th to the 13th century.16 As Peacock has shown, Greek sources mention only groups of Turkmen of between 2,000 and 10,000 people in the early period, but numbers had reached around 100,000 in southern Anatolia by the late 12th century.17 Ibn Saʿid mentions that in the mid-13th century there were 100,000 Turkmen tents distributed in the area of Kastamonu.18 Although numbers are unreliable, they at least offer an insight into the perception by these chronicles of Greek and Arab origin of the extensive populations of Turkmen that settled in the peninsula during this period.

### 42 *A political history of the Chobanid dynasty*

By the time Sultan Rukn al-Din Sulayman Shah II (r. 1196–1204) took control of the throne in Konya, the region of Kastamonu seems to have been closely bound to the Seljuqs of Rum, even though it maintained an important degree of political autonomy. From then onwards, the Turkmen's military capability became a fundamental force in securing the area politically and favoured a process of Islamisation, that would consolidate during the 13th century. Turkmen settlement in north-western Anatolia has often been connected with some decline in the productivity of the land and the vitality of trade in the area.19 However, these assumptions are mostly based on the accounts of Byzantine chronicles of George Pachymeres (d. 1310) and Nicephoros Gregoras (d. 1360), who wrote in the early 14th century. As we saw in Chapter 1, there was a boom in certain areas of trade during the 13th century.20 In fact, it appears that the economic problems that existed in the province of Paphlagonia began long before the Turkish arrival during the 11th century, with desertification of farmland, abandonment of rural areas and a collapse of urban life being documented from the 8th century onwards and increasing during the 11th century.21 In this context, the initial years of the 13th century witnessed the consolidation of Turkmen control in Kastamonu and the emergence of the first powerful individuals among the Turkmen communities.

### **2.1 The founding father: Husam al-Din Choban and the establishment of Chobanid rule in north-western Anatolia**

As is generally the case, when trying to trace the origins of the founders of medieval Islamic dynasties, historians are forced to move more in the terrain of speculation than fact. The case of Husam al-Din Choban, the founder of the Chobanid dynasty, is no exception. Some Turkish historians have suggested that he might have been connected somehow to the prominent military commander Amir Karatekin, mentioned above, who allegedly took Paphlagonia from the Byzantines in the late 11th century.22 However, these references appear not to be based on original sources but on speculation driven, perhaps, by the symbolic role played by Karatekin in Turkish historiography. In fact, by the mid-12th century, Karatekin had become a symbol and the point of origin for the Islamisation of the region, with his tomb being built in the castle of Çankırı in the second half of the 12th century.23 Similar speculation regarding the conquest of Kastamonu by the Chobanids are stimulated by references in early Ottoman literature and the connection of the region to the legendary Sufi saint Sarı Saltuk.24 The *Saltukname*, an epic account of the life of this Turkish hero, was compiled only in the 15th century by Abu al-Hayr Rumi (*fl.* 15th century) for an Ottoman prince. According to this mostly literary account, the father of Sarı Saltuk died as a martyr fighting the Byzantine armies during the conquest of Kastamonu led by Husam al-Din Choban in the early 13th century.25 Unconfirmed by any other sources of the period, this reference, like the attempt to link Husam al-Din with Karatekin, appears to be a way of portraying a certain continuity of Turkmen-Islamic presence in the area that cannot be validated with the available sources.

The only historical source we have for this early period of the Chobanid dynasty is the account of Ibn Bibi (d. not before 1282), who grants a high position to Husam al-Din in his narrative, possibly for his sympathies to Sultan Kayqubad I.26 In his account, Ibn Bibi refers to the Chobanid leader always as *malik al-umarāʾ* (king of amirs), an unspecific title that probably had more military than political significance.27 Although there should be only one 'king of amirs' in the sultanate, the name of Husam al-Din is mentioned together with that of Saif al-Din Amir Qizil, also described as *malik al-umarāʾ.* The title has been used often interchangeably with that of *beylerbey* (bey of beys), 'the two titles occur … indiscriminately in the texts [sources], or even in the same text [source].'28 It has been suggested that both versions of the title were meant to indicate the supremacy of one Turkmen leader over the other tribal chiefs.29 However, this suggestion is difficult to confirm when the surviving manuscripts dedicated to Chobanid rulers refer to Husam al-Din Choban simply as amir and not as *malik al-umarāʾ* (Figures 2.1a,b).30 Although the term appears, for example, in the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil wa faraʾid al-fazaʾil*, a work composed in Kastamonu and dedicated to a member of the Chobanid family in the mid-1280s as a manual for diplomacy, it provides no specific explanation of the title-holder's duties.31 With the scant information available, the use of titles in this period is unclear and inconsistent. As we will see, the titles used by the rulers of Kastamonu varied during the 13th century, suggesting that from a Chobanid perspective, the title was a distinction and a symbol of power while the actual duties attached to the post were not clearly delineated.

The first mention of Husam al-Din Choban in Ibn Bibi's account is in connection with the internal political upheavals that occurred in the Seljuq court at the beginning of the 13th century. When Sultan Kaykhusraw I (d. 1211) died on the battlefield of Alaşehir, the Seljuqs of Rum not only lost a battle against the Greek Empire of Nicaea, but the sultanate was submerged into a deep succession crisis.32 Three sons of the sultan claimed the throne, with Kaykaʾus (d. 1220) having the support of the Seljuq nobility and Kayqubad (d. 1237) challenging his brother thanks to the initial support of the king of Cilician Armenia and his uncle Mughith al-Din, who ruled autonomously over the region of Erzurum.33 Kaykaʾus moved more quickly, using diplomacy to bend the Armenian support of his brother towards his side first and defeating Mughith al-Din in battle later.34 Kayqubad was forced to withdraw westwards and barricaded himself into the fortress of Ankara in 1211 waiting for his brother's army to besiege him. At this point, Ibn Bibi mentions that *Malik alumarāʾ* Husam al-Din Amir Choban and *Malik al-umarāʾ* Sayif al-Din Amir Qizil, who were the highest men and allies (*aʿwān*) of the kingdom, and with their numerous servants (*kasrat-i atbāʿ*), followers (*ashyāʿ*), possessions (*māl*), men (*rijāl*) came to the assistance (*mustaẓhar*) of Kayqubad.35 Unfortunately for them, they could not withstand the siege by the superior forces against

*Figure 2.1* (a,b) Bodleian Library (University of Oxford), Ms. Laud or. 50, ff. 191b– 192a. Preface of the Husam al-Din Khu'i's *Nuzhat al-kuttab wa tuhfat al-ahbab* showing dedication to Muzzafar al-Din Choban and addressing Husam al-Din Choban as *amir* (folio 192a, line 14).

Ankara, and the city fell. Husam al-Din Choban had to move back to his territories in Kastamonu, Kayqubad was imprisoned and Kaykaʾus secured his ascension to the throne of the Seljuqs of Rum.36 The scarce information for the event in the sources offers an unclear picture of the motivation (or obligations) of Husam al-Din in taking Kayqubad's side in this struggle. However, his participation in the battle shows, for the first time, that this Turkmen chief was not only in command of troops and resources, but had also begun to play an active role in the internal politics of the Seljuq sultanate.

*Figure 2.1* Continued

Despite being on the losing side of the political struggle, Husam al-Din managed to expand his influence beyond the area of Kastamonu to include important urban centres such as Ankara and Gangras (modern Çankırı), two cities that were allocated to the Chobanids after their citizens revolted against Seljuq authority in 1214.37 The political authority of Husam al-Din and his followers in this period is difficult to establish. We can only speculate that these Turkmen exercised military supremacy and collected revenues in the area, but possibly had little impact on the political decisions concerning the urban centres under their protection.38 This military capability would reinforce the role of Husam al-Din in the Seljuq sultanate even further after the death of Sultan Kaykaʾus I in 1220, when his brother Kayqubad I (r. 1220–37), former ally of the Chobanids, was crowned as the new sultan of Rum. The military support given nine years earlier in Ankara to the new sultan finally paid off; Kayqubad not only confirmed Husam al-Din as ruler of north-western Anatolia but also asked him to command the only overseas expedition ever carried out by the Seljuqs, to invade the peninsula of Crimea.39

The main target of the military expedition was the city of Sudak, an important commercial port on the south-eastern coast of the Crimean Peninsula situated in an almost straight line directly across the Black Sea from the city of Sinop.40 In the early 13th century, the Seljuqs exercised a protectorate over the city, which was controlled by different Cuman-Qipchaq princes. The city-port played a pivotal role as a hub for commercial activities between different Rus principalities such as Kiev, Vladimir and Novgorod as well as Byzantium.41 The city was not only an important economic port exporting different furs (bear, beaver, squirrel, etc.) and slaves, but also had an important strategic position in terms of the expanding vision that Kayqubad had for the sultanate.42 The Mongol conqueror Chinggis Khan (d. 1227) had dispatched part of his Mongol army into Iran in pursuit of the fugitive Sultan Muhammad II Khwarazmshah (d. 1220).43 The army, led by the famous Mongol commander Jebe, advanced relentlessly across Khurasan, which bordered the Caspian Sea on its southern shore, but did not advance once Sultan Muhammad escaped to an island in the Caspian Sea. Instead, Jebe continued north via the Caucasus Mountains to invade southern Russia and Crimea in 1223 before returning to the Mongol base camp in Central Asia via the Russian steppes. When the Mongols left, the Rus retook the city of Sudak, which Kayqubad I saw as an opportunity to organise a maritime expedition to expel the new occupants and re-establish the Seljuq protectorate over the city.

Ibn Bibi, the main source we have on the campaign, mentions that the expedition was commanded by Husam al-Din Choban, who set sail at the head of his army from Sinop to Crimea in 1220s.44 The Turkish ships arrived in Sudak and the population of the city offered to recognise the sultan and to pay tribute.45 Messages were exchanged between Husam al-Din and the city rulers in an attempt by the latter to gain time until a Qipchaq army came to their aid. However, the Chobanid amir was informed of the advance of the enemy and managed to disembark his army from the ships. As narrated by Ibn Bibi, this was a clever move by Husam al-Din, because at dawn the next morning the Qipchaq army attacked their camp. They managed to repel the attack and won a great victory, which forced the Rus leader to accept the authority of the Seljuq sultan; the Rus were also forced by Husam al-Din to pay annual tribute.46 The tribute appears to have provided a large amount of booty and slaves that were sent back to Anatolia.

After coming to terms with the Rus ruler, Husam al-Din finally turned his attention to the city of Sudak, which despite new attempts by its inhabitants to pay tribute, offer loyalty and return the properties of Muslim merchants, was nonetheless invaded and sacked after a fierce battle.47 Before returning to Kastamonu, Husam al-Din took members of the respected (*muʿtabar*) families of Sudak as hostages and secured the city by leaving soldiers garrisoned there.48 Ibn Bibi dedicates a poem to the next decision taken by Husam al-Din Choban, which involved establishing sharia law in the city and declaring Islam as the official religion of the Sudak:

The land was stormed with the sound of *takbīr.* The air was filled with the feathers of the shining angel49 The religion of the Prophet was renewed [because] spreading religion is the kings' legacy [Even] to a place that no one knew The place of Islam in the Universe All voices were praising and celebrating God It was like an arrow was shot in the chest of unbelievers In this form, with majesty, elegance and strength the hero of the World came to the city.50

It is interesting how the Anatolian historian depicts the Chobanid amir as hero of the world (*jahān-i pahlavān*), giving him all the credit for bringing these Christian lands into the realm of Islam. However, as Andrew Peacock has suggested, it was a common Seljuq policy after the conquest of a city to declare Islam as the new religion of the place, but this did not necessarily imply the conversion of the population to Islam.51 Therefore, Ibn Bibi's depiction of Husam al-Din as a champion of Islam might be seen more as a formulaic description of the historian reflecting a common policy of the Seljuqs than a faithful representation of the conversion of Sudak's population to Islam.

After the campaign, Husam al-Din returned to Kastamonu, having gained enormous prestige as well as the favour of the sultan, and establishing favourable conditions for trade across the Black Sea.52 However, after his return, there is no record of any political, military, or economic activity involving Husam al-Din Choban.53 Since both Muslim and Byzantine chronicles are silent about the region of Kastamonu in this period, we do not know how the Chobanid leader was received back in his home town, or what was the fate of his family in the decades to come. The date of Husam al-Din's death is a mystery, but he probably died during the 1230s or the 1240s at the latest. It appears that in this period and up to the time of the Mongol invasion of Anatolia in 1243, the region of Kastamonu may have remained peaceful, or at least did not draw the attention of chroniclers.

Despite the historical uncertainty over the final years of his life, the figure of Husam al-Din would be pivotal in the development of north-western Anatolia during the 13th century. He became the first Turkmen chief to hold autonomous control over the region and be recognised as amir by the sultan. Further, he actively engaged militarily in Seljuq politics by taking sides in the internal political struggles of the 1211 between Kaykaʾus and Kayqubad, and, finally, successfully commanded the only overseas maritime military expedition of the Seljuqs to Crimea. Although his role as a promoter of Islam may have been exaggerated by Ibn Bibi, the idea of Husam al-Din Choban as a champion of Islam was rooted in the imaginary of the region (see Chapter 3). Those Turkmen rulers that succeeded him in the region would be either his relatives or, even those with doubtful blood connections to him, would claim a link to his figure.

### **2.2 Uncertain years: North-western Anatolia and the Mongol invasion**

The political development of north-western Anatolia in the decades that followed the Mongol invasion of the peninsula is characterised by a succession of changing alliances and wars between the Mongols and the Chobanid rulers. For the most part, the region of Kastamonu appears to have escaped the plunder of initial Mongol campaigns led by Baiju in the early 1240s, which sacked the cities of Kayseri and Sivas.54 However, this did not mean that in the coming years the interests of the Mongol rulers and their officials would not clash with the authority of Husam al-Din Choban's. During these years, the Chobanid line of succession becomes a blur, perhaps due to the difficulty that these Turkmen lords had in establishing their political authority from the arrival of the Mongols up to the 1280s.

It is unclear what happened after the death of Husam al-Din Choban in terms of succession. Although Yücel suggest that the authority of the region passed directly to Husam al-Din's son Alp Yürek, the events that followed the Mongol invasion of Anatolia in Kastamonu cast some doubt on this apparently smooth transition of power.55 This assumption is based on Ibn Bibi's *a posteriori* suggestion that first Alp Yürek and later his son Muzaffar al-Din held the province of Kastamonu based on a right of inheritance. However, during the 1250s and at least up to 1262, the person being recognised as *beylerbey* of Kastamonu was a certain Shams al-Din Yavtash (Tuvtaş), who held the position of guardian of the castle of Kastamonu until his death, possibly in late 1256.56 It has been suggested that by the root of his name (*Yav*) it is possible to identify Shams al-Din with a Cuman (Qipchaq) origin.57 If this is the case, it can be used as definitive proof of the suggestion made by Cahen that there was no blood connection between Husam al-Din Choban and Shams al-Din Yavtash.58 In addition, the high position acquired in the region by Cumans possibly from Crimea or the Russian steppes points towards a much more fluid transit of people across the Black Sea than previously thought.59 In fact, the emergence of a non-Chobanid leader like Yavtash as *beylerbey* of Kastamonu suggests that by the mid-13th century, Kastamonu and its surrounding territories (including Sinop) was not an autonomous region under the descendants of Husam al-Din Choban. Rather, it seems to have remained under the authority of the Seljuq sultan but more closely connected to the Mongols of the Golden Horde. The death of Shams al-Din Yavtash appears to be a turning point in the relationship between the Chobanids and the region under their military command. It was during this period when an administrative reform in the region was carried out by which the title of *beylerbey* became detached from the economic revenues produced in the region.

By 1256, it is possible that Husam al-Din Choban's son, Alp Yürek, might have received the title of *beylerbey* and some revenues associated with it, causing the confusion in Ibn Bibi about the Chobanid line of succession. However, we also know that after the death of Shams al-Din Yavtash, the economic revenues of the region of Kastamonu (*iqṭāʿ*) were granted not to a member of the Chobanid family but to Mongol-appointed vizier known as Shams al-Din Baba Tughraʾi, who, unfortunately for him, died only a few years later without ever visiting the region assigned to him.60 His death coincided with the resolution of a dynastic dispute among the Seljuqs of Rum when Sultan Kılıç Arslan IV (d. 1265), thanks to the support of the Mongols, defeated his brother ʿIzz al-Din Kaykaʾus II (d. 1280) in 1260 and forced him into exile in Crimea.61 To replace the deceased officer, a new vizier called Taj al-Din Mutʿazz was appointed by the victorious faction.62 He was granted the revenues of Kastamonu, confirming the establishment of an administrative separation between the person holding the title of *beylerbey*, with military and political attributions, and vizier, who would be the beneficiary of the economic produce of the region.63 This division apparently continued into the 14th century since, at the death of Taj al-Din Mutʿazz in 1277, his son Amir Shah received the *iqṭāʿ* of Kastamonu as a hereditary right that he would hold until 1309, incidentally the very same year in which Chobanid rule ended in the region.

The rights of Baba Tughraʾi first and later his son Taj al-Din Mutʿazz over the region's economic produce did not mean that they had any special political influence over these territories. In other words, it appears that political and economic influence over the region fell into different hands from this period onwards. On one hand, it is possible that after 1256, Alp Yürek might have become the *beylerbey*, perhaps retaining military authority over the Turkmen people of the region but having limited political authority over the urban settlements and the sedentary population. In this period, the role of the Chobanid family appears to have been relegated to lower layers of authority created by the new Mongol officials sent from the Mongol Ilkhanate based in Iran.64 This overlap can be seen in the fact that, although the nominal sovereignty of the region continued to rest on the Seljuq sultan, during the 1270s, the real authority in the region appears to have been the powerful pro-Mongol official Muʿin al-Din Sulayman Parvana (d. 1277), who acted as de facto ruler of Rum.65 Muʿin al-Din was eventually executed for treason by the Mongols, but his son Muʿin al-Din Muhammad Bey replaced his father. He continued to be the governor of north-western Anatolia until 1295, but his main residence was in Sinop. It appears that his influence also reached the city of Kastamonu until as late as 1299, but we only have evidence of him having visited the city twice during his entire time in office.66

Despite the seizure of political authority and economic benefits from the region by the Mongols and their officials, the Turkmen presence in the region did not fade away but rather intensified during the period. Alp Yürek seems to have lost and gained authority intermittently in the region from the time he took control of Kastamonu. Although he is never mentioned by name

in the sources, it is unlikely that he did not participate in any of the various conflicts that occurred between the Turkmen people settled in the region and the different powers – whether Mongol, Byzantine, or Seljuq – that competed for this border region. The Chobanids remained militarily active in the region. Only a decade after the Mongols invaded Anatolia, a group of Turkmen from the region of Kastamonu moved westwards and took the city of Tokat in 1250, which they controlled until 1257.67 At that moment, a combined military effort between the *parvāna*, the Seljuq sultan Rukn al-Din Kılıç Arslan IV and the Mongols managed to expel the Turkmen occupying force and established Muʿin al-Din Sulayman Parvana as the ruler of the city.68 It is perhaps this event that triggered the above-mentioned division of economic and political authority in Kastamonu. The allocation of the region's *iqṭāʿ* to the Mongol vizier Shams al-Din Baba Tughraʾi was done immediately after these events, suggesting that perhaps the allocation of this wealth to a Mongol could have been a punishment for the Turkmen conquest of Tokat. Further, even though the name of Alp Yürek is not mentioned as participating in the conquest of Tokat at any point in the sources, the implication that the Chobanid family was involved in the campaign cannot be discarded.

Their position in a border zone with the Christian Empire of Nicaea, a successor kingdom to a Byzantium under Latin control, meant that Turkmen groups from Kastamonu also had an active interaction with their western neighbours. As we will see, there was constant tension on the frontier between the Chobanid and the Greek empires throughout the second half of the 13th century. In the 1250s, the Turkmen of Kastamonu became involved in Anatolia's internal politics involving the Empire of Nicaea, the Seljuqs of Rum and the Mongols. From 1254, and in the name of the exiled emperor Theodore II Lascaris (r. 1254–58), a future Byzantine emperor, Michael VIII Palaeologus (d. 1282), was the governor of the province of Mesothynia and Optimatoi.69 These regions shared borders with the western territories of the Chobanid area of influence, separated only by the Sakarya River.70 Around 1256, the relationship between governor and emperor deteriorated, and the former was forced to escape and find refuge at the court of the Seljuq sultan Kaykaʾus II (d. 1280), where many of the exiled Palaeologus family were living.71 Despite being robbed by some Turkmen nomads from Kastamonu, Michael Palaeologus made it to the Seljuq court in Konya. The sultan welcomed him and assigned to the future Byzantine emperor a high military rank commanding the Christian troops who served the sultan. While Theodore II began to use classical Byzantine diplomacy to obtain a peace treaty with the new Mongol lord, confrontation between the Mongols and the Seljuqs became unavoidable. Michael Palaeologus commanded part of the Seljuq troops at the Battle of Aksaray against the Mongols in 1256.72 The Mongols defeated the sultan's army, forcing Michael to withdraw to the northwestern territories of the sultanate. The Byzantine historian Akropolites mentions that after the defeat in battle the future Byzantine emperor joined the commander-in-chief (*peklarpakis*) of the sultan of Rum when he returned to his home town of Kastamonu after the defeat.73 The title of *peklarpakis* has been established as a Greek translation for *beylerbey* and the person accompanying Michael Palaeologus as the above-mentioned Shams al-Din Yavtash (Tuvtaş).74

As we have seen, the *beylerbey* Shams al-Din Yavtash died possibly soon after arriving back in Kastamonu, which supports the idea, based on often conflicting accounts, of some scholars suggesting that Michael Palaeologus became, at least for a short period, governor of the city of Kastamonu and/or a beneficiary of the region's *iqṭāʿ.* 75 The presence of the Byzantine emperorto-be in the region as the representative of the Seljuq sultan might have been, as Andrew Peacock has suggested, motivated by the close relationships that Michael could have developed with the Turkmen of the region when serving as the governor of the other side of the Sakarya River only a few years earlier.76 He did not stay long in the region, as in 1257 the Mongol commander Baiju brought his army there, reconquering Tokat from the Chobanids, as mentioned above, and arriving at the doors of the castle of Kastamonu.77 According to the chronicle of Akropolites, the Mongol advance forced the Palaeologus family to flee from the city. However, the simultaneous death of the Nicaean emperor Theodore II in 1258 together with the ascension of his underage son John IV Laskaris, catapulted Michael Palaeologus to the position of regent of the empire first and emperor later when in 1261 the Nicaeans reconquered Constantinople from the Latins.78 From the Chobanids' point of view, these events show an involvement of the Turkmen of Kastamonu in the affairs of Anatolia throughout the 1250s, with an apparent opposition to the Mongols that can be observed both during the offensive over the city of Tokat and in the presence of the *beylerbey* at the Battle of Aksaray.

Anatolia's political scenario was transformed in the second half of the 1250s and early 1260s. The Seljuq defeat at Aksaray against the Mongols, the restoration of Byzantium under Michael VIII, the exile of Sultan Kaykaʾus II and the consolidation of Hülegü as Ilkhan of Iran were different factors contributing to the subjugation of the Seljuqs by the Ilkhanate. In Kastamonu, different Turkmen revolts erupted, led on occasion by rebels of Central Asian origin who had the now-exiled ʿIzz al-Din Kaykaʾus II as 'a symbol of resistance against the hated Mongols and viewed the sultan's defeat as their own'.79 Byzantium also played its cards and got involved in the region, first by sending military expeditions to counteract the Turkmen military presence in the area and simultaneously pursuing diplomatic ties with the Mongols.80

The Mongols not only signed a treaty with Byzantium and established a convenient sultan on the throne of Konya (forcing Kaykaʾus II into exile a few years earlier), but also placed Mongol officials in different parts of the peninsula to exercise closer control over the territory.81 Although many Turkmen supporters of Kaykaʾus II were forced to relocate on the European side of the Byzantine Empire, the Chobanids appear to have stayed in their territories despite their participation in the revolt against the Mongols.82 Notwithstanding some sporadic revolts in the region, it appears that the *parvāna* managed to control the region of Kastamonu in the 1260s and 1270s, with Turkmen upheavals moving south to the regions of Denizli, Khunas and Dakman during this period.83 Not even the appointment of Fakhr al-Din ʿAli (d. 1288), also known as Sahib ʿAta, as the new viceroy by the Mongols diminished the control that the *parvāna* had over Kastamonu, which became seen as a *marche* or military buffer zone on the border under the supervision of the already mentioned Taj al-Din Muʿtazz.84 The pro-Seljuq and anti-Mongol initiatives of the Chobanids that had characterised the region since the Battle of Köse Dağ changed during these years of Mongol officials' control over the region. The execution of the powerful *parvāna* Muʿin al-Din Sulayman in 1277 appears to have provided a new opportunity to the Turkmen of Kastamonu to adopt a new active role in the peninsula's politics. For starters, the Chobanids made a clear statement of their change of alliances when they participated in the defence of Sinop in the face of an attack launched by the Greek Empire of Trebizond in 1277.85 Although the Turkmen of Kastamonu might have assisted the city in defence of their own interests (Sinop had been under the authority of Kastamonu on many occasions during the 13th century), the battle placed them fighting side-by-side with the soldiers of the *parvāna*, a Mongol official.

Some Turkmen groups revolted against the Mongols and their officials and even attacked Konya on a number of occasions in the late 1270s. The invasion of the Mamluk sultan Baybars in 1275–77 finally precipitated the decline of the rule of the *parvāna* in the region.86 The Ilkhan Abaqa (d. 1281) sent his brother Kongurtay to suppress the Turkmen and exercise more direct control over Anatolia.87 While Turkmen groups from Tokat, Aksaray and Ermenek were defeated by the Mongol army, the Chobanids were spared and seen now as convenient allies in the borderlands.88 An even closer relationship between the Mongols, a pro-Mongol Seljuq line of descent and the Chobanids would become more firmly established in the 1280s, as we will see. However, the period between 1243 and 1280 remains rather obscure in the history of Kastamonu. Even though Alp Yürek, the son of Husam al-Din Choban, was present in the region and some sources suggest that he even died as a martyr (*shahīd*) (see Figure 2.2) on the battlefield,89 his capacity to exercise actual dominion over the region appears to have been limited. Although he may have retained some military authority, economic benefits and political autonomy within the region of Kastamonu, the fate of the region appears to have rested first in the hands of a non-Chobanid *beylerbey* such as Shams al-Din Yavtash and then passed to the influence of the *parvāna* and Mongol officials up to 1277. The military help provided by the Chobanids to the *parvāna* in Sinop might have served to prepare the ground for a new political scenario. The death of Alp Yürek in *c*. 1280 and the ascension of his son Muzaffar al-Din Choban brought Kastamonu, even if temporarily, to a new role in the political arena of 13th-century Anatolia.

*A political history of the Chobanid dynasty* 53

*Figure 2.2* Majlis 6398, f. 2b. Showing dedication to Muzaffar al-Din Choban by Qutb al-Din Shirazi and reference to Alp Arslan as Shahid (line 8).

### **2.3 An alliance with the Mongols: The reign of Muzaffar al-Din Choban, r. 1280–91**

If the life of Alp Yürek is difficult to trace and the history of the Chobanids is evasive until the end of the 1270s, this perception changes when in about 1280 Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek (d. *c*. 1291) emerged as the head of the Turkmen of Kastamonu.90 There is little doubt that he was the grandson of Husam al-Din Choban, since some early manuscripts dedicated to him and his son make clear reference to his line of descent.91 However, if his family ties offer no mysteries, his titles and ranks have generated some discord among Turkish scholars. As we have seen above, his grandfather (Husam al-Din Choban) was referred to by Ibn Bibi as *malik al-umarāʾ* and *beylerbey* by Turkish historiography. His father (Alp Yürek) is referred to as a *shahīd* but was never mentioned as having the title amir.92 To figure out the actual role occupied by Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek in the structure of Seljuq Anatolia from the point of view of his titles and ranks presents some challenges with the existing evidence. The historian Ibn Bibi, writing in around 1281, not only returns the title of amir to Muzaffar al-Din but adds to his titles the Persian rank of *sipahdār* (military commander) of Kastamonu.93 The 14th-century historian Karim al-Din Aqsaraʾi (d. *c*. 1320) confirms the attribution of the second title, but does not mention the title of amir. Instead, he refers to him as a *ṭarafdār*, a term commonly used to refer to a 'partisan', but in this case might be used to refer to royal status to imply the meaning of 'king' or 'prince'.94 However, it is interesting that the surviving manuscripts dedicated to Muzaffar al-Din or his son do not include any references to either of the two titles *sipahdār* or *ṭarafdār*. 95 This portrays a rather confusing image, with those historians writing about the Chobanid ruler from the Seljuq court addressing him more often with a title denoting a more military role (*sipahdār*) while those authors that received financial support from Muzaffar al-Din would address him as amir. This second term would imply, firstly, recognising that Muzaffar al-Din had real political control over the region, and secondly, it would help to legitimise his position as it would imply a clear hereditary dynastic connection with his grandfather Husam al-Din Choban.96

The early 1280s were unstable years in the history of Anatolia. The Mongols had to deal with a new Mamluk campaign led by Baybars' son Qalawun (r. 1279–90) in 1279–80 that was stopped only after the reinforcement of the Ilkhanid troops led by Abaqa's brother Möngke Temür. Further, the execution of the *parvāna* had left a power vacuum in the administration of Anatolia that the puppet sultan Kaykhusraw III could not fulfil. Finally, another internal dispute among different Seljuq princes emerged when Kaykaʾus II, the already mentioned sultan of Rum, who was forced into exile first in Constantinople and then in Crimea in the mid-1260s, died in AH 679 (1280–81).97 Two of his surviving sons (Masʿud b. Kaykaʾus and his brother Rukn al-Din) hurried to claim their rights to the Seljuq throne. This event shifted the role of Kastamonu in the region's politics, marking Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek as an important political agent in the historical records.

According to Ibn Bibi, after the death of Kaykaʾus II, it would have been Masʿud who would have the right to rule because his father allegedly nominated him as heir but instead, it was his brother who moved faster and travelled across the Black Sea to Anatolia to gain the upper hand over his brother.98 The same source mentions that Rukn al-Din arrived in Sinop from his exile in Crimea but shortly afterwards was captured by a group of soldiers from Kastamonu (*nauwāb-i qastamūniyya*) near Amasya and delivered to the *sipahdār* of the region, Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek, who imprisoned the prince in the city castle (*qalʿa*).99 Masʿud arrived in Anatolia shortly afterwards and the Chobanid ruler went to welcome him in the port of Sinop, where he pledged alliance to him and acknowledged Masʿud as the rightful Seljuq sultan.100 Initially, Masʿud seems to have intended to execute his brother but eventually pardoned him, apparently leaving Rukn al-Din as a prisoner in the castle of Kastamonu.101 Due to the proximity of the borderland, Byzantine sources also record these events with special attention, even though the information is at times confusing and not very accurate.102 Pachymeres, although occasionally mixing up the chronology of the events, offers an interesting complementary account. For example, he provides some important information on the political developments of the region between the Chobanids (possibly referred to as *amoirus*) and the deposed prince Rukn al-Din b. Kaykaʾus at the end of Muzaffar al-Din's time in office.103

Muzaffar al-Din's loyal service of Masʿud's cause granted the former a preferential position as ally of the new aspirant to the Seljuq throne. After securing the captivity of the rebel Rukn al-Din, both men went together to Tabriz, the capital of the Ilkhanate, to meet the Ilkhan in person and obtain Mongol support to crown Masʿud as sultan of Rum.104 On arrival at the capital, the Ilkhan Abaqa (d. 1282) welcomed the two allies and granted Masʿud control over Diyarbakır, Harput, Malatya and Sivas.105 However, while the two men were still at the court, Abaqa died and his brother Tegüder Ahmed (r. 1282– 84) became the new Mongol Ilkhan of Iran. Regarding Anatolia, Tegüder decided to continue the policy of divide and rule that characterised Mongol dominion in this period.106 Overlooking the different Seljuq contenders, he gave Kaykhusraw III the sultanate of Rum while granting Masʿud control over the Karamanid territories of eastern Anatolia's coastal areas. Aqsaraʾi mentions how Masʿud accepted the decision, moved to the assigned region and settled in Erzincan to begin his duties in collaboration with old officers of his father.107 By contrast, Ghiyath al-Din Kaykhusraw III was not satisfied with this decision. For that reason, when two simultaneous rebellions commanded by relatives of Tegüder (one in Khurasan led by his nephew Arghun and another in Anatolia by his brother Kongurtay/Qonqortai) erupted only a year after the coronation of the Ilkhan, Kaykhusraw III decided to join Kongurtay's aspirations against Tegüder.108 Having to decide between two open fronts, Tegüder first turned his attention to Rum and managed to suppress Kongurtay's revolt, capturing Kaykhusraw III, who was put on trial and eventually executed in March 1284.109

In view of these events, Tegüder reverted to his former decision and appointed Masʿud as Sultan of Rum. However, the Ilkhan's victory was short-lived and the eastern revolt commanded by Arghun managed to gain the support of the Mongol *noyans* (commanders) needed to confront Tegüder, who was eventually defeated in 1284.110 After the coronation of Arghun in 1284, he confirmed the appointment of Masʿud II as the Seljuq sultan and in turn granted Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek full control over the region of Kastamonu.111 The actual extent of the new Chobanid area of influence is unclear. Although sources generally suggest that Arghun gave Muzaffar al-Din his home region in north-western Anatolia, Niazi has suggested that Ibn Bibi's reference to Arghun giving Masʿud control over Sivas and Malatya should not be read literally. Instead, he thinks that actual political control over these cities might have been in the hands of Muzaffar al-Din Choban.112

It is unclear from the available sources how long Muzaffar al-Din spent at the Mongol court in Tabriz. However, since his confirmation as amir of Kastamonu did not arrive until Arghun became Ilkhan, it is possible that he remained in Tabriz from his arrival in late 1281 until late in 1284.113 The time spent in the Ilkhans' cultural capital might have made an impression in the mind of a provincial warlord such as Muzaffar al-Din. The interaction with the multicultural environment of 13th-century Tabriz and wealthy people at the court should be counted as one of the reasons that explains the interest and financial investment in literary works that characterised Muzaffar al-Din Choban's rule. It is plausible to suggest that either when he was in Tabriz, or if he really had political control over Sivas and Malatya, he might have come into contact with the famous scholar Qutb al-Din Shirazi (d. 1311), from whom he commissioned the composition of the astronomical work *Ikhtiyarati Muzaffari.*114 The acts of patronage witnessed in the Mongol capital certainly inspired Muzaffar al-Din, as we will see in Chapter 3, to continue the financial support of other authors not as internationally recognised as Shirazi, but with relevance to Kastamonu's political and religious situation, such as the *Fustat al-ʿadala* and the *inshāʾ* works of Husam al-Din Khuʾi.

Patronage also provided Muzaffar al-Din with a tool to promote an image of himself that superseded that of a simple local Turkmen warlord. The financial support of these works written in Persian reflects Muzaffar al-Din's intention to be part of similar patronage activities taking place in the important urban centres such as Tabriz and Konya.115 This peak in literary and architectural activity stimulated by the Chobanid court coincided with a period of political stability at the Mongol court during the reign of Ilkhan Arghun (r. 1284–91) and the deployment in Anatolia of the Ilkhan's brother and future Ilkhan Geykhatu (r. 1291–95).116 The appointment of the Ilkhan's brother as governor brought not only tightened the Mongols' military control over the peninsula, but also carried with it a number of administrative reforms destined to maximise the extraction from Anatolia for the benefit of Mongol officials.117 In this new approach to Anatolian matters taken by the Ilkhans, with Muzaffar al-Din as amir the Chobanid dynasty prospered culturally but did not abandon the military component inherent to the responsibilities of Turkmen rulers of the frontier.

In the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil wa faraʾid al-fazaʾil*, written by Husam al-Din Khuʾi in AH 684 (1285), one of the letters identified as *Surat-i fatihnama* (transcript of a letter of conquest) is included in the fourth section (*qismi chahārum*).118 Serving as an example of diplomatic letters, this particular missive contains a unique account of the conquest of the two Byzantine castles of Gideros (*Kidirūs*) by Muzaffar al-Din Choban and his Turkmen soldiers in Rajab AH 683 (September 1284).119 As Peacock has highlighted, the purpose of the letter was to be 'circulated within the ruler's realm to celebrate his conquest, and sometimes to other rulers as well'.120 Hence, the account is not free from exaggerations and sublimations of the pious character and military genius of the ruler. However, despite its bias, it is unique evidence of the active role played by Muzaffar al-Din Choban in the region after returning from his stay in Tabriz. The letter gives details of the development of the battle, stating that siege equipment was used by the Chobanid troops to throw rocks and naphtha (*naffāṭ*) over the inner-wall houses. Rocks eventually forced the collapse of the protective walls and the ensuing fire caused chaos among the people, who tried to escape by sea in boats, risking drowning rather than facing the certainty of being burnt to death.121 The castle eventually fell into the Chobanids' hands after a week of siege, and the surrounding area, including probably the city of Cide, was incorporated into the territories of the Kastamonu Turkmen.

The presence of Geykhatu in Anatolia during these years helped to suppress some attempts at rebellion. In one attempt, in Konya in 1290, the Mongol prince managed not only to stop a revolt and punish the rebel viziers but also made a name for himself – in spite of later developments – as a peacemaker by pardoning the city of Konya for revolting.122 In describing these events, the Anonymous Historian of Konya refers to a certain Khwaja Nasir al-Din b. Yavlak Arslan, one of Muzaffar al-Din's sons, as being the first appointment to office (*manṣib*) made by the Seljuq sultan Masʿud II back in AH 682 (1283).123 The presence of a son of Muzaffar al-Din in the Seljuq court is a testimony of the close relationship between the Chobanids, the Seljuq court and the Mongols in this period. Greek sources also mention that Nasir al-Din lived in Constantinople for a while before moving back to Anatolia to serve at the Seljuq court.124 He achieved the high position of *mustawfī*, being in charge of registering property, gardens, water sources and trade initiatives in Konya after the revolt, for the financial benefit of the triumphant Mongol prince.125 Geykhatu's peaceful handling of the aftermath of the Konya revolt has been the subject of some scholarly debate because of the inconsistency with which the same Mongol prince dealt with similar uprisings. In explaining the unique account of a peaceful settlement of the revolt by Geykhatu, Melville has suggested that the reason for this benevolent account might be that Nasir al-Din b. Yavlak Arslan could have been a patron of the Anonymous Historian of Konya.126 If the assumption is correct, the literary patronage activities performed by Muzaffar al-Din in Kastamonu were being mirrored by one of his sons in the Seljuq capital.

This period of literary patronage, political stability and territorial expansion lasted until 1291, when the politics of the Mongol court and Anatolia's difficult power balance would once again destabilise the Chobanid dynasty and its territories. The sudden death of Arghun Ilkhan placed Geykhatu as one of the major candidates to replace his brother on the Ilkhanid throne together with Baiju (d. 1295) and his nephew Ghazan (d. 1304).127 Geykhatu hurried to assemble his Mongol troops stationed in Anatolia and with the support of powerful amirs such as Amir Chupan (d. 1323) and Qurumshi (d. 1319?), he managed to overcome the other candidates and was crowned in Ahlat (eastern Turkey) on 24 Rajab AH 690 (23 July 1291).128 However, the removal of the Mongol troops from the peninsula uncovered old resentments across Anatolia that had remained submerged by the Mongol military superiority. The support of Muzaffar al-Din Choban for the Mongol overlordship of Rum and his close ties with the Seljuq sultan Masʿud II appears to have aroused some antipathy towards him, not only in foreign lands but also within the territories he controlled in north-western Anatolia.

Until recently, there has been debate about the events connected to the 'revolt of Kastamonu' that took place from about 1291 until 1293.129 The main problem has been the different and apparently contradictory accounts provided by the Islamic and the Greek sources. One problem has been the fact that Pachymeres claims that Malik Masour, the main instigator of the revolt, found refuge in Byzantium for a short period of time in 1290 at the beginning of the revolt.130 The similarity in the phonetics of the words Masour and Masʿud generated some confusion as to whether this name could be a reference to Sultan Masʿud II.131 To assume this would have discredited Pachymeres' account, because Aqsaraʾi clearly explains that Masʿud was an ally of both the Mongols and the rulers of Kastamonu who opposed the revolt.132 Recently though, Korobeinikov has suggested convincingly that Malik Masour stands for *malik al-manṣūr* (victorious king), a title used on several occasions on Seljuq coins, and that in this case it could be referring not to Masʿud II but to his brother Rukn al-Din b. Kaykaʾus II,133 who was imprisoned by Muzaffar al-Din Choban a decade before the revolt.134 Similarly, after some scholarly debate, some other terms that appeared in conflict between the sources have been settled and today there is little doubt that Pachymeres' Amouroi and his son Nastratios refer respectively to Muzaffar al-Din Choban and his son Nasir al-Din mentioned above.135 Consequently, both Greek and Islamic accounts echo the events of the revolt, providing a different description of the events but apparently agreeing on the personalities involved in the conflict.

Greek sources provide some further information on the political developments leading to the revolt, and they coincide with Islamic sources in the early stages of the uprising.136 Both Pachymeres and Gregoras are vague on the chronology of the events but recount the return of Malik Rukn al-Din (Malik Masour) to Anatolia after the death of his father in 1280, in agreement with the account provided in the Islamic sources mentioned above.137 However, instead of mentioning that Muzaffar al-Din captured him and supported Masʿud II, the Byzantine sources claim that Arghun gave Kastamonu to Rukn al-Din. Following Byzantine sources, the Ilkhan's decision was opposed by the Chobanid amir (Amouroi), who fought Rukn al-Din and forced him to seek refuge and support in Constantinople.138 Allegedly, the emperor refused to help and Rukn al-Din returned to Kastamonu just at a time when the situation had changed in the region, allowing him to kill Muzaffar al-Din Choban and all his sons except a certain ʿAli.139 The latter would oppose Rukn al-Din by fighting a guerrilla war against him until eventually the Chobanid leader managed to kill Rukn al-Din in battle.140 From here onward, the account is more centred on the story of ʿAli's warfare against Byzantium and does not provide any details on the Mongol or Seljuq reaction to the uprising.

Islamic sources offer a different succession of events but also centre the origin of the uprising in a group of Turkmen in the region of Kastamonu and Zalifre/Safranbolu who decided to back a revolt led by Malik Rukn al-Din b. Kaykaʾus II against his brother Masʿud II.141 The rebel faction had the initial upper hand when they met in battle the loyal army of Muzaffar al-Din Choban, who according to Aqsaraʾi, died (*fanā shud*) during the confrontation.142 In the face of the danger posed by the uprising, Mongol and Seljuq leaders mobilised to suppress the revolt. Masʿud II was ordered by Geykhatu to lead the Seljuq army, which was reinforced by non-turkic Seljuq infantry troops (*tājīk*) and 3,000 Mongol horsemen sent by the Mongol prince to support the expedition. When the army was approaching the Chobanid territories, it was surprised in an ambush in the hilly terrain near Kastamonu. The rearguard, with the sultan and his soldiers, was defeated, and Masʿud was taken to confinement in Kastamonu, in what might have seemed like sweet revenge in the eyes of Rukn al-Din (imprisoned by command of Masʿud's brother in the same place only a decade before). In the face of this, the Mongol officials sent by Geykhatu had different strategies. On one hand, the vanguard in command of the Mongol general Kuktay decided to abandon the campaign, but on the other hand Karay, another Mongol commander, organised the remaining troops, assaulted the Turkmen and freed the sultan from the rebels before returning to their base camp in the region of Osmancık.143 The Anonymous Historian of Konya's account is much less detailed than that of Aqsaraʾi, but he includes Nasir al-Din, the son of Muzaffar al-Din, among the officials that accompanied the Seljuq-Mongol army to Kastamonu. Similarly, as in his description of Geykhatu's benevolent treatment of Konya, this source places Nasir al-Din b. Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek as fundamental in the successful outcome of the mission. According to this source, it was Nasir al-Din alone who first managed to end the revolt in the city of Safranbolu by bribing the Turkmen in the region and then persuading the rebels to surrender Malik Rukn al-Din to him to be executed.144 Although the participation of Nasir al-Din in the campaign is plausible, the prominent role that he occupies in the narrative of the *Anonymous Chronicle* might be yet another case of sublimation of his role done to please the patron of the work.

Despite the attention that the revolt attracted in different contemporary sources, it is difficult to discern a clear picture of the events. Yet, all accounts highlight the fact that the bulk of the rebels were Turkmen people of the region, who saw in the figure of Rukn al-Din the possibility of opposing Chobanid leadership. The reasons for this discontent are unclear, but perhaps the close ties that Muzaffar al-Din had developed with the Mongols since his confirmation by Arghun Ilkhan as ruler of the region gained him enemies among different Turkmen groups on the frontier. Further, there is a clear involvement, even if subtle, of Byzantine diplomacy in the entire uprising. Despite the entente between the Mongols of Iran and Byzantium since the time of Abaqa Ilkhan, the Chobanids continued to attack Byzantine targets – such as the castles of Gideros – despite their good relationships with the Mongols. Therefore, some degree of support by Constantinople to the Turkmen rebels of Safranbolu (on the border with Byzantium) and to Rukn al-Din cannot be ruled out, as a way for the Byzantines to destabilise the uncomfortable neighbour that Muzaffar al-Din Choban of Kastamonu had proved to be over the years.145 Finally, the revolt also shows the dependence that the Chobanids had on Mongol support to maintain their supremacy over other Turkmen groups in the area. As soon as Geykhatu and his army left Anatolia in 1291 to claim the throne of the Ilkhanate, the opposing forces managed to kill Muzaffar al-Din and set in motion the decline of Chobanid rule in Kastamonu.

### **2.4 Mahmud Bey and the end of Chobanid rule in Kastamonu**

Although sources do not agree on the date for the death of Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek, it is possible that he died in battle during the initial clashes of the revolt of Kastamonu in about 1291. According to Aqsaraʾi the succession was straightforward and after his death, his son replaced him as amir of Kastamonu.146 However, either because he did not know the name of the heir or because it was obvious to his readers, Aqsaraʾi does not provide a name for the successor to the amirate of Kastamonu. As we have seen, one of the candidates to succeed Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek could have been Nasir al-Din, who was a *mustawfī* at the court of the Seljuqs in Konya and according to the Anonymous Historian came with Masʿud's army to Kastamonu during the revolt. Another candidate comes from a dedication of the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil wa faraʾid al-fazaʾil* of Husam al-Din Khuʾi to a certain Amir Mahmud, son of Muzaffar al-Din Alp 'Yuliq Arslan' (Figure 2.3).147 Finally, while Byzantine sources confirm the existence of a son called Nasir al-Din, they also bring a third candidate to the debate. Pachymeres claims that all but one of Muzaffar al-Din's sons were killed during the rebellion (including Nasir al-Din) – only ʿAli survived.148 The interest of Greek sources in this character is connected to the sustained warfare he carried out against Byzantium in the years after the revolt, but they also imply that ʿAli changed the policies of his father by abandoning the loyal attitude to the Mongols and Seljuqs, which regained the support of the Turkmen of Kastamonu.149

Hence, the succession of Muzaffar al-Din is rather confusing because the different sources do not agree on the fate of his sons. The most likely scenario is that when Muzaffar al-Din was killed, there were three of his sons who actively participated in post-revolt Kastamonu. We lose track of the first of his possible heirs, Nasir al-Din, after these events. Neither his death at the hands of Malik Rukn al-Din, as suggested by Pachymeres, or the opposite view given by the Anonymous Historian, in which Nasir al-Din bribed the Turkmen of Safranbolu and then executed Rukn al-Din, can be confirmed. There is a possibility that Amir Mahmud could be a title rather than a name and, as suggested by Yücel, Nasir al-Din became the *amīr maḥmūd* of Kastamonu.150 In this view, then there would be only two sons of Muzaffar al-Din. However, this is

*Figure 2.3* Malek National Library 1196, ff. 106b–107a. Showing dedication to Amir Mahmud (f. 107a, line 13).

unlikely since Ottoman sources actually mention Mahmud Bey as the ruler of Kastamonu in the first decade of the 14th century.151 Furthermore, the already mentioned reference to Amir Mahmud in the introduction of the *Qawaʿid alrasaʾil* composed in Rajab of AH 684 (1285) suggests that there was a son called Mahmud before the revolt began in 1291 (see Figure 2.3). Consequently, it appears that three sons of Muzaffar al-Din were alive when their father died. The successor as the political head of the Chobanids appears to have been Amir Mahmud, but it was his brother ʿAli who became an active military commander in the region.

The available information on the political and military history of the region of Kastamonu during the 1290s and 1300s is rather limited. Further, the borders of political influence between Mongol officials, local rulers and Turkmen groups are also blurred. For example, Muʿin al-Din Muhammad (d. 1297), the son of the *parvāna* Muʿin al-Din (d. 1277), received financial rights over Kastamonu from the Mongols in 1296, casting some doubt on where the influence of one ruler ended and the other began.152 However, it appears that even if parts of the economic revenues were shared with Muʿin al-Din Muhammad, political control over the region was in the hands of the Chobanids, who, under the command of ʿAli b. Muzaffar al-Din, attacked the Byzantine territories on the Sakarya River's western shores, especially from 1299 onwards. After a few years of confrontation, a peace proposal between the Chobanids and Byzantium was drafted in 1302.153 However, the treaty was rejected by the different Turkmen factions that made up the Chobanid army, explaining the participation of ʿAli Chobanid siding with Osman Gazi (d. 1323–24), when the founder of the Ottoman dynasty faced the Byzantine army at the Battle of Bapheus (1302).154 Finally, when the Mongols and the Byzantines signed a peace treaty, also in 1302, the potential strategic danger of being trapped in between the two new allies (Byzantium and the Mongols) forced ʿAli to make peace with Constantinople in 1304.155 The relationship between the Chobanids and Byzantium appears to have calmed down by the beginning of the 14th century and, due to the silence of the Greek sources about the fate of ʿAli Chobanid after the signing of the peace treaty, we known nothing further about his life.

The final years of the Chobanid dynasty are included in some early Ottoman sources such as the *Selçukname* of Yazıcızade ʿAli (*fl.* 15th c.), which, despite not being totally trustworthy in terms of historical accuracy, at least offers a reference to Mahmud b. Muzaffar al-Din ruling in Kastamonu during the first decade of the 14th century.156 By this time, the Chobanids had accumulated a century of experience in manoeuvring in the unstable political arena of Anatolian politics between larger political entities such as the Seljuqs of Rum, the Byzantines and the Mongols. However, the *coup de grâce* to the dynasty came from neither of these regional powers. Instead, it was an inner Turkmen revolt that originated within the Chobanid territories. In 1309, Sulayman Pasha Jandar (d. *c*. 1339–40), the son of Shams al-Din Yaman Jandar (*fl.* 1291), one of the local Turkmen chiefs subject to

the Chobanids during the time of Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek, rebelled in the small town of Eflani against Chobanid overlordship.157 From this small town located between Safranbolu and Kastamonu, Sulayman rapidly gained momentum and directed his troops towards the Chobanid capital. The new Jandarid (also called Isfandiarid) leader raided the city and besieged Mahmud inside the castle of Kastamonu until he was forced to capitulate.158 Mahmud Bey, the last Chobanid ruler, was captured and eventually executed some time before 1314, by which point, according to Aqsaraʾi, Sulayman Pasha was already fully established as ruler of Kastamonu.159 The new Turkmen ruler quickly expanded his domains and incorporated Sinop and Safranbolu into his territories, appointing his sons as governors in these towns.160 Like the Chobanid rulers before him, Sulayman Pasha recognised Mongol overlordship and declared himself a subject of the Ilkhan Abu Saʿid (r. 1317–35) to secure his rule over the region.161 The end of Chobanid rule in north-western Anatolia did not mean a decline in Turkmen control over the region. On the contrary, the Jandarid dynasty would dominate the region until the Ottomans managed to incorporate these territories into their domains in the second half of the 15th century.

### **Notes**


### 64 *A political history of the Chobanid dynasty*


### 68 *A political history of the Chobanid dynasty*


*in Honor of John E. Woods*, edited by Judith Pfeiffer and Sholeh A. Quinn (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2006), pp. 153–54.


### *A political history of the Chobanid dynasty*


### **3 Literary and architectural patronage under the Chobanids**

In the medieval Islamic world, patronage of the arts, literature and architecture was common practice. Rulers, queens and high officers in courts across the Middle East and Central Asia dedicated substantial amounts of money and resources to support the production of specific literary works and the construction of buildings in the cities under their command. The motivation of these elites in promoting art and architecture varied in individual cases. Although patronage activities served to fulfil a sense of transcendence of the patron and to satisfy their personal commitment to a particular institution or praise of a literary work, patronage also played a fundamental role in securing thepatron's political position and projecting the image of a learned ruler in the eye of allies and enemies alike.1 After the establishment of the Great Seljuq dynasty in the 11th century, the successive Turco-Mongol dynasties that ruled the Middle East and Central Asia up to the 15th century made special use of patronage. Some major dynasties ruling the Middle East from the 12th to the 15th century (Seljuqs of Rum, Ilkhans and Timurids) invested large sums in literary and architectural patronage once they conquered and settled in the region. Although it was often the grand imperial courts that led this patronage, local dynasties that were subject to these powers mimicked their practices and invested locally in securing their presence in the cultural milieu of the territories under their control.

In the course of the Chobanid dynasty's conflictive political history, its rulers managed not only to navigate political alliances in the ever-changing power balance of 13th-century Anatolia, but simultaneously left a rich cultural legacy that has survived to our day. This legacy comprises both a literary and an architectural heritage that was financially supported by different Chobanid rulers, especially during the second part of the 13th century. The commitment of this Turkmen dynasty to the support of cultural expression is not unique in the sense that other dynasties of Turkic origin patronised literature, art and architecture both before and after the Chobanids. However, the phenomenon continues to be, in my opinion, of remarkable historical relevance, as it is a clear manifestation of a process of acculturation and social approximation between rulers and subjects of different cultural backgrounds. This chapter is

> DOI: 10.4324/9781351025782-4 This chapter has been made available under a CC BY 4.0 licence.

dedicated to surveying the cultural legacy left by the Chobanids during their decades as rulers in the region of Kastamonu. The first part offers an account of some of the main literary works dedicated to Chobanid rulers, looking at their contents and aspects of literary production contained in the surviving manuscripts. The second part looks at some of the main buildings patronised by the Chobanids and that are still standing in the urban landscape of the city of Kastamonu and its surroundings.

### **3.1 The literary legacy of Chobanid Kastamonu**

All the surviving literary works by different authors dedicated to Chobanid rulers were composed in a period of 30 years from the beginning of the 1280s to the first decade of the 14th century. This is by no means a coincidence, since, as we saw in the previous chapter, these three decades correspond to a period of military expansion, political security and economic growth in the Chobanid territories. The literature patronised by the Chobanid dynasty is diverse from the point of view of the subjects covered, but there are also certain shared characteristics that give these texts a thematic coherence to the point of conforming to a small literary corpus for the period. The texts discussed below cover aspects of astronomy, religious sciences, hagiographic accounts, epistolary manuals (*inshāʾ*), mirrors for princes, dictionaries and examples of letter-writing. Of them, five works produced in this period can be clearly identified as dedicated to a ruler of Kastamonu and they include three different authors of Iranian origin. However, the number of texts produced in the region rises to ten if we include those that were not specifically dedicated to a ruler but were produced under Chobanid rule.

The main shared characteristic of this corpus is that all the works produced for the Chobanids are written in Persian.2 This prevalence of the Persian language is a distinct feature of this 13th-century dynasty, compared with the local dynasties that would occupy Anatolia from the early 14th century onwards.3 The reason for this preference for the Persian language over Turkish seems to be connected to the cosmopolitan and vernacular characteristics of the former, which culturally connected the Islamic world from Anatolia to India and Central Asia through Iran.4 Further, the absence of any patronage of Turkish literature by the Chobanids is consistent with the paucity of Turkish literature produced in 13th-century Anatolia.5 In this context, the rulers of Kastamonu in the 13th century would use Persian as the language of cultural patronage and only during the 14th century would other local dynasties of Anatolia begin to include Turkish as a literary language.6 In addition, the Iranian or Khurasanian origin of many of the men of letters that lived and worked in 13th-century Anatolia might also have contributed to make Persian the main written language of the Chobanids (see Chapter 1). Nonetheless, a personal inclination by the rulers of Kastamonu to patronise literature in Persian languages cannot be ruled out, since, although some of the authors patronised were able to write in Arabic, Chobanid patronage followed what seems to have been the common trend in 13th-century Anatolia of using Arabic for technical works while using Persian as the main vehicle for literary writing.7 This might allow us to speculate that at least the later Chobanid rulers and members of the royal family were proficient enough in Persian and had an actual interest in reading (or rather listening to someone reading) the texts they patronised.

Whether this was actually the case or not, these texts certainly served a more prosaic purpose. On the one hand, they could be presented as tangible proof of the ruler's wealth and helped to portray an image of a lord who, although retaining the military capabilities associated with his Turkmen origins, was also deeply interested in science and religion. On the other hand, some of these works have a clear didactic purpose – if not for the rulers themselves, at least for the incipient court that the Chobanids were trying to establish in north-western Anatolia from the late 1270s onwards. This is especially evident in the different manuals of diplomacy and dictionaries produced under the Chobanids that are discussed below.8 Finally, these texts' religious component and references to Islamic values, law and orthodoxy were also useful to reflect an image of a court deeply committed to Islam in an area that bordered the territories of Byzantium, over a region recently Islamised and by rulers of nomadic origin whose Islamic beliefs were often questioned by urban elites.

#### *3.1.1 The* **Fustat al-ʿadala fi qawaʿid al-sultana**

Judging by the number of manuscripts that have survived of this work, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* was not the most popular text produced for the Chobanid rulers. However, it is perhaps the one containing the richest information from the point of view of the period's political, religious and social history. Nowadays, the only copy of the work is in a manuscript at the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris.9 Perhaps due to a misleading cataloguing decision to place the codex under 'Turkish manuscripts' instead of Persian, the text received little scholarly attention, with only a handful of scholars showing interest in it. Among them, the famous Turkish scholar Osman Turan partially reviewed the text, adding a transcription of a section of the work to his article published in 1953.10 Most recently, Muhammad ʿAli Yusufi wrote a short overview of the text based on a microfilm version of the Paris manuscript that is held in the library of the University of Tehran (microfilm number 6541).11 My recent analysis of the manuscript is yet another contribution to the study of this littleknown text.12 In addition, Ahmet Karamustafa and Yaşar Ocak have made use of the text in their research on the antinomian Sufis in medieval Anatolia, but neither of them seems to have gone beyond the specific information on these dervishes contained in the text.13

The work includes a section on the practices and beliefs of the antinomian Sufis that is of paramount historical importance, as we will see in Chapter 5. However, the manuscript containing the *Fustat al-ʿadala* presents a number of particularities regarding the authorship, the date of composition and the patronage of the work that are worth mentioning here. One of this manuscript's complexities is that at some point it was bound back to front, with the last sections of the work appearing at the beginning of the manuscript and the earlier parts in the last folios of the codex.14 This misplacing of the text might be behind the confusion existing in the catalogue of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, which considers these two parts of the texts as different works.15 However, this mistake has already been pointed out by Turan, who – on the basis of linguistic similarities and cross-references in both texts – has suggested that both parts belonged to the same work.16 The confusion comes also from the fact that the contents of the two parts are different from one another. While the first part of the manuscript (second part of the original work) is a description of heresies in Islam and their historical development, the second part (first part in the original work) is mostly a transcription of the *Siyar al-muluk* (*Siyasatnama*), the famous mirror for princes by the Seljuq vizier Nizam al-Mulk (d. 1092).17

A more detailed analysis of the information contained in these two sections is provided in other chapters of this book. But in addition to the reversed binding of the work, the only extant manuscript of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* lacks the beginning of the original work and the section connecting the two parts of the manuscript. Consequently, the authorship of the work is not attributed anywhere in the text, suggesting that it might have been recorded in the original preface, now lost. Fortunately, there is an indirect way by which the name of the work's possible author can be suggested. A reference in the *Kashf al-zunun*, the bibliographical work written by Katip Çelebi (d. 1657) in the 17th century mentions the existence of a work very similar to the *Fustat al-ʿadala* in content, where the name of the author is given as Muhammad b. Muhammad b. Mahmud al-Khatib.18 This reference allowed some Turkish historians such as Turan and Köprülü to identify this person as the author.19 However, beyond this passing reference, the name of the author is, as far as I am aware, not mentioned in any other source of the period, leaving the manuscript Supplement Turc 1120 as the only available source to uncover aspects of the author's life and personality. Although the text offers no specific biographical information about the author, his writings suggest a good knowledge of Quranic verses and a familiarity with various hadiths. There is also a particular section where he shows a deep knowledge of both Hanafi and Shafiʿi legal traditions.20 Further, he makes extensive use of some classical Persian literature, such as the already mentioned *Siyar almuluk* and quotations from Firdawsi's *Shahnama*. 21 This evidence suggests that Muhammad al-Khatib (if that was the name of the author) might have been on the one hand an ʿalim *–* or at least had received some religious instruction – and, due to his knowledge of Persian classics and use of the Persian language, was possibly of Eastern Anatolian or Iranian origin.22

If the identity of the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* is elusive, the date of copying of the manuscript is clearly stated in f. 69a as the year AH 990 (1582) (see Figure 3.1).23 Despite this clear reference to the date of copying, Blochet suggests in his catalogue entry that this date should be taken as the date of composition and should be read as AH 690 (1291), and he suggests that the

*Figure 3.1* Bibliothèque Nationale de France MS. Supplément Turc 1120, f. 69a showing colophon and date of ms.

date in the manuscript is a mistake made by the copyist. However, this argument does not stand up in light of the clear early Ottoman *taʿlīq* script in which the manuscript is written, therefore Blochet's suggestion was categorically rejected by Osman Turan over half a century ago.24 Blochet's confusion might come from trying to reconcile the date he saw in the manuscript colophon with the historical reference to Masʿud Shah b. Kaykaʾus (f. 68a), who was also known as Sultan Ghiyath al-Din Masʿud II r. 1284–97 and 1303–08), last Seljuq sultan of Rum and ally of Muzaffar al-Din Choban.25 In relation to Sultan Masʿud, the author hopes (*umīd mi dāram*) that with the sultan's rise to power, the heretics that had been mushrooming in Islamic lands since the time of the Great Seljuqs would be annihilated (*maḥw gardānad*) (see Figure 3.2).26 It is this reference that might have tempted Blochet, when he catalogued the work, to try to accommodate the date of the copy of the manuscript (AH 990) to AH 690 within the first reign of Masʿud II.

The *Fustat al-ʿadala* is dedicated to Muzaffar al-Din Choban, whose name the author inserted in between some verses of a long and incomplete qasida originally included at the end of the work.27 In the text, the name appears as 'Mir Jahan Muzaffar al-Din ibn A.L.P.R.K', leaving little doubt about the connection with the Chobanid ruler.28 The qasida is not the original work of the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* but rather a well-known poem that was used as a poetic closure in Nizam al-Mulk's famous *Siyar al-muluk*. In fact, as pointed out by Alexey Khismatulin, this copy of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* is further evidence that the qasida was already considered part of the general work of Nizam al-Mulk by the end of the 13th century and that it might have accompanied the first redaction of the *Siyar al-muluk*. 29 With the aim of presenting sections of the *Siyar al-muluk* as his own compositions, the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* made some changes in the original poem to suit the work's new patron. He inserted the name of the dedicatee (Muzaffar al-Din) in the poem in the exact place where the original qasida had the name of the sultan of the Great Seljuqs, Malik Shah (r. 1072–92), who was allegedly the dedicatee of the original *Siyar al-muluk*, and removed Nizam al-Mulk's name from the qasida.30

Similar to other works dedicated to Muzaffar al-Din, such as that by Qutb al-Din Shirazi mentioned below, the author might not have lived in the region of Kastamonu and may instead have resided in another part of the Anatolian Peninsula.31 The description of the work in the *Kashf al-zunun* points to the possibility that it was composed in Aksaray, and therefore closer to the Seljuq centre of power in Konya.32 The Chobanids' capacity to patronise scholars and their works outside of their own area of influence in north-western Anatolia is an interesting aspect both of the expanding political, military and economic situation of the dynasty and the diversification of patronage in 13th-century Anatolia. In addition, the contents of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* make this source arguably the most relevant in the history of the Chobanids. Its original first part, paraphrasing and commenting on the *Siyar al-muluk,* and the second part offering a unique description of Qalandars in 13th-century Anatolia,

*Figure 3.2* Bibliothèque Nationale de France, MS. Supplément Turc 1120, f. 68b.

highlight interesting aspects of the peninsula's political and religious life. The religious factionalism, introduction to Hanafi and Shafiʿi schools of law and the intention to legitimise Seljuq rule over Mongol-dominated Anatolia are all present in the text. Despite its thematic uniqueness, this work cannot be understood in isolation but rather as part of a broader patronal policy of the Chobanids, possibly in search of knowledge but certainly looking for legitimacy in the fragmented political scenario of late Mongol Anatolia.

### *3.1.2 The works of Husam al-Din Khu*ʾ*i*

While we know little about the origin and whereabouts of the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, there is evidence that the most prolific author connected to Chobanid patronage actually lived in Kastamonu in the later 13th and early 14th centuries.33 His full name is Hasan b. ʿAbd al-Muʾmin Husam al-Din Khuʾi (d. *c*. 1308), and his *nisba* points towards the city of Khoy in the province of Western Azerbaijan in modern Iran as his birthplace. It is unclear when he found his way to Anatolia but some scholars have suggested that he might have been the son of the famous painter and illustrator ʿAbd al-Muʾmin Khuʾi (*fl.* 13th century).34 If so, his father's paintings can still be seen today in an illustrated manuscript copy of the *Varqah va Gulshah*, a *mathnavi* poem written by the Ghaznavi poet Ayyuqi and held at the Topkapı Sarayı in Istanbul.35 The images in this manuscript have been dated to the 13th century, and the fact that the text is in a Seljuq *naskh* style confirms this dating. Further, the name of the illustrator also appears, possibly together with that of his brother (ʿAbd Allah), as a witness in a *waqfnāma* document for the construction of a madrasa in Konya dated AH 649 (1251).36 It has been noticed that ʿAbd al-Muʾmin not only appears at the highest position in the signing ranking of the waqf, but his title of *al-naqqāsh* that appears in the signature of the illustration in the Topkapı Sarayı manuscripts was replaced by the title *al-shaykh* in the *waqfnāma*. These two elements might be an indication of ʿAbd al-Muʾmin's advanced age at the time of the signing of the waqf. If so, then the arrival of the Khuʾi family into Anatolia may have been during the first half of the 13th century and Konya may have been their initial place of residence.37

Husam al-Din Khuʾi was a scribe, poet and lexicographer, but we do not know where or how he received his training in these arts. He became a munshi for Muzaffar al-Din Choban and the most prolific writer in the Kastamonu court, leaving up to seven works written mostly in Persian.38 The oldest manuscript copy containing works of Husam al-Din Khuʾi that has survived to the present is Ms. Fatih 5406, held at the Süleymaniye Library in Istanbul, including three works by the author and copied in AH 709 (1309), only a year after the author's death.39 It is uncertain when Husam al-Din Khuʾi moved to Kastamonu but it must have been at some point before the 1280s due to the dedication of the *Nuzhat al-kuttab* to his patron Muzaffar al-Din b. Yavlaq Arslan (Alp Yürek) (d. 1291).40 The colophon of the version copied in Ms. Fatih 5406 states that the work was composed entirely during the month of Muharram AH 684 (March 1285).41 This date confirms the impetus given to patronage by Muzaffar al-Din when he was confirmed by the Ilkhan Arghun as the new *sipahsālār* of Kastamonu after his visit to the Mongol court in Tabriz.42 Husam al-Din Khuʾi states that he dedicates this work to the ruler with the hope that, when his majesty reads this work and reflects on it, he will remember his age-old servitor (the author), and he'll grant him (Husam al-Din Khuʾi) a great honour or favour.43

The *Nuzhat al-kuttab* is a work that, despite containing limited factual information, can be seen as an interesting testimony of the process of Islamisation taking place in the area. The work aims at explaining four different types of citations that can be used in the writing of letters. It is divided into four parts, each including 100 sample citations from different sources that can be used by scribes to enhance the cultural level of the letter when addressing rulers or important personalities.44 The first part includes 100 verses of the Holy Quran, and the second includes the same number of quotations from hadiths on different issues. Similarly, the third part contains 100 pieces of advice from caliphs and the fourth the same number of samples of Arabic poems with their Persian translations.45 The work is written in a somewhat artificial style with a clear pedagogical purpose: to bring classical Islamic text and poetry closer to the reader.46 In the same way that the above-mentioned *Fustat al-ʿadala* introduces Persian classics in its narrative to embellish the text and highlight the knowledge of the author, the *Nuzhat al-kuttab* features quotations from holy texts with the dual aim of providing the court with material to be used in letter-writing while also reflecting the author's proficiency in the management of sacred texts. These quotations could embellish royal correspondence but also might be signalling an inner attempt to bring closer to the Chobanid court and its subjects sacred texts from the Islamic tradition that might not have been popularly known among the recently Islamised Turkmen rulers or their subjects living on the border with Christian Byzantium.47

The other work by Husam al-Din Khuʾi containing a dedication to a ruler of Kastamonu is the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil wa faraʾid al-fazaʾil*. According to the author himself, the work was composed after he finished the *Nuzhat al-kuttab* with the aim of providing a set of rules for use in writing letters. It was written at the request of some of the author's friends (*dūstān*).48 He dedicated the work to the last Chobanid ruler Amir Mahmud, who assumed control of the region of Kastamonu after his father's death in battle in 1291.49 However, it appears the work was composed before Amir Mahmud's ascension to the throne, possibly in the month of Rajab AH 684 (1285).50 Only two copies of this work remain available in manuscript form, one being the already mentioned Ms. Fatih 5406 and the other held also in the Süleymaniye Library in Istanbul in the Esad Efendi collection, number 3369.51 The work is a good example of *inshāʾ* literature, with a detailed list of advice on how to write to rulers depending on their rank and the purpose of the letter, but it is also a guide for communicating eloquently outside the court.

The work is also divided into four sections (*qism*) dedicated to explaining different aspects in the production of letters. The first section entitled 'On the art of letters and the arrangement of correspondence' (*Fann al-rasaʾ̄il wa tartīb mukhat̄aba ̣ t̄*) includes samples on how to arrange epithets for prayers (*duʿā*), services (*khidmāt*) and salutations (*taḥāyā*), descriptions of passion (*sharḥ ishtiyāq*) and requests for meetings (*tamannā-yi mulāqāt*). Further, the section has subdivisions, explaining the appropriate way to address members of the court depending on their rank. The first of two different categories (*ṣanf*) of addressee (*mukhat̄aba ̣ t̄*) includes the higher ranks such as the sultan, wife of the sultan and women in the harem, senior dignitaries and military commanders, and lower ranks in the court administration such as the deputy governor, governor of the city, supervisor, and *muḥtasib* (supervisor of bazaars and trade). The second category (*ṣanf*) is divided into two further categories, with the higher reserved for judges, teachers, great scholars, *sādāt* (*sayyid*s, descendants of the Prophet Muhammad), preachers, ascetics, deputies of the judges, magistrates and protectors; the lower category is for commanders, physicians, astronomers, writers, secretaries and relatives (cousin, mother, sister, daughter and servants).52 The second section of the work deals with more structural aspects of the letter. For example, it suggests where the names of the sender and addressee of the letter should be placed, then provides a full explanation on the need for dating letters correctly, and on how to understand the dating of religious letters arriving from afar. Different examples of letters are provided using an ornate style, word play, inverted forms of speech, the rhythm of letters, and metaphors, and there are also examples of letters asking for favours.53 In the third section, the subjects of the letters are more mundane and restricted to a more domestic sphere. The examples provided deal with conversations between friends, including topics such as congratulation, inauguration, passion, intercession, condemnation, favour, gratitude and appreciation, complaint, visit and condolence. Finally, the fourth section deals with *taqrīrāt* (expression) and *khaṭābāt* (speech) and the important role the good implementation of these concepts has in clarifying the duties of government officials.54

These two works of Husam al-Din Khuʾi dedicated to rulers of the Chobanid dynasty share a common goal in providing the court with a more elaborate set of diplomatic tools in a decade when the rulers of Kastamonu were expanding their territories and consolidating their political position in the region. Especially in the case of the *Nuzhat al-kuttab*, the emphasis on religious quotation also appears to be a reflection of the need to transmit the idea of a fully Islamised dynasty in case there were any doubts among potential allies and enemies. The literary production of Husam al-Din Khuʾi did not stop there – he wrote two further works on related topics of administration which he did not dedicate to members of the royal dynasty. The first was the *Rusum al-rasaʾil wa nujum al-fazaʾil,* a work composed in AH 690 (1291) dealing again with rules for writing letters, but also including titles and ranks of imperial officials that needed to be used in the court according mostly to 11th-century Seljuq practices.55 The text includes brief explanations on the responsibilities and salaries of these officials and also some firmans (imperial decrees) to be used as examples for court dignitaries.56 The only surviving copy of this work is in the Nurbanu Sultan collection at the Hacı Selim Ağa Library (Üsküdar), nowadays part of the Süleymaniye Library in Istanbul. The colophon of this work mentions that the text was copied by a certain Muhammad b. Hajji Yaʿqub b. Musa al-Nakidi in AH 879 (1474).57

The remaining text on letter-writing by Husam al-Din Khuʾi is the *Ghunyat al-talib wa munyat al-katib*, 58 which deals with issues very similar to those described in the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil* – to the point that the former is almost an abridged version of the latter, with the exception of a few words.59 The composition of this work is given in the only surviving manuscript (Fatih 5406, ff. 72a–98b) as Rabiʿ II AH 709 (1309), which provides evidence suggesting not only that Husam al-Din Khuʾi lived at least until that date, but also that he continued writing prolifically during the early 14th century, when the Chobanids' political situation was rather different from the decades before.60 The dedication of this work, however was not to a ruler or prince but to a member of his own family. In the preface, Husam al-Din Khuʾi thanks his father (*vālid*) for inspiring the composition of the text, as he claims that it was from him that he acquired his knowledge on the styles of correspondence and rules of letter-writing. This mention might be the reason why Abbaszade, in his edition of the text, suggests that Husam al-Din Khuʾi's father was the dedicatee of the work.61 However, the same preface suggests that the work is dedicated to Nasr Allah, who both Yazıcı and Özergin identify with the author's son, Nasr al-Din b. Husam al-Din Khuʾi.62 The production of such a work for his own son also suggests an attempt to perpetuate his own family in the court at a time when the Chobanid dynasty was collapsing rapidly.

Katip Çelebi attributes to Husam al-Din Khuʾi another work of *inshāʾ* he refers to as *Kanz al-lataʾif*. 63 He describes this work as consisting of 50 letters but also mentions that the author of the work refers to himself as 'Ahmad ibn ʿAli Ahmad'. Consequently, it is possible that the Ottoman bibliographer was actually referring to the *munashaʾāt* of Ahmad b. ʿAli Ahmad al-Samarqandi (d. early 15th c.). This work, written in Persian like those of Khuʾi, became fairly popular from the 15th century onwards and several copies remain available in different collections.64 The use of Persian and the ornate style used might have confused Katip Çelebi in the attribution of this work, as he might have thought it could be another of the various compositions made by the munshi of the Chobanid court.65 However, while the text cannot be added to the corpus of *inshāʾ* literature produced by Husam al-Din Khuʾi, it reflects the reputation acquired by him as a key author in the composition of this literary genre well into the 17th century, when Çelebi was composing his famous bibliographical dictionary.

In addition to these manuals of letter-writing, Husam al-Din Khuʾi also wrote an Arabic–Persian vocabulary entitled *Nasib al-fityan*. The work is modelled on a previous work called *Nisab al-sibyan* written by Abu Nasr Farahi (*fl.* 13th century). Actually, it would be more accurate to say that Husam al-Din Khuʾi expanded, rather than composed, this work since he only added an interlineal Persian translation to the original Arabic work which, according to Farahi, was composed in order to 'facilitate the study of Arabic language and fundamentals of prosody by school children'.66 Husam al-Din Khuʾi's addition of a Persian translation of the vocabulary certainly served a similar pedagogic purpose in Kastamonu. The *Nasib al-fityan* became a useful book for learning Arabic not only among children, but also for adult officials of a court poorly versed in the Arabic language, such as that of the Chobanids of Kastamonu, and remained widely popular in the Ottoman Empire.67 In fact, this interest of Husam al-Din Khuʾi in bringing the Arabic language closer to his readers in Kastamonu is also evident in other of his works. For example, the abovementioned *Nuzhat al-kuttab wa tuhfat al-ahbab* includes numerous quotations taken from Arabic poetry that are rendered together with a Persian translation, making the original Arabic a more approachable language to Husam al-Din's audience, which was mostly literate in Persian.68

Another vocabulary connected to this author, albeit carrying far more controversy, is the *Tuhfa-yi Husam*, a Persian–Turkish dictionary often attributed to Husam al-Din Khuʾi.69 According to Tahsin Yazıcı, the only manuscript of this work used to be in the city of Mosul but it is now lost.70 However, making no reference to the Mosul manuscript, other copies supposedly of the same work found in Cairo and Berlin were used to produce an edition of the text that was first published in Baku, before being reprinted recently in Iran.71 The edition attributes the text to Husam al-Din Khuʾi and describes the text as consisting of 1,311 Persian words for 1,304 Turkish words, making a total of 2,615 words presented in 296 couplets.72 Husam al-Din's name does not appear in the original work used for the edited version, which has raised questions about the authorship of the text. Erdoğan Boz has recently suggested that the text included in this edition published in Iran by Sadikova and ʿAlyakbaruva is a misattribution to Husam al-Din Khuʾi.73 Instead, he suggests that the text edited is actually another copy of the extremely popular Turkish–Persian vocabulary known as *Tuhfa-yi Husami* (*Tuhfe-i Hüsami*) by Husam b. Hasan al-Qunawi, *fl. c*. 1400.74 The work was composed in AH 802 (1399–1400) and, according to Boz, manuscript number 1398 of the Haraççıoğlu collection held at the İnebey Library in Bursa has striking similarities with the text edited by Sadikova and attributed to Husam al-Din Khuʾi.75 If this is the case, then the *Tuhfa-yi Husam* was not written by Husam al-Din Khuʾi and its attribution is a result of its being confused with a Persian–Turkish vocabulary written by Husam al-Din Qunawi that was widely copied in the Ottoman Empire and of which several copies have survived to the present.76

The similarities found by Boz between the edited edition and the manuscript in Bursa are corroborated with other existing copies of Husam Qunawi's work consulted in the National Library in Ankara.77 However, mystery remains over the lost manuscript once held at the library in Mosul mentioned by Yazıcı. In his contribution to the *Encyclopaedia Iranica*, Yazıcı makes this attribution based on a catalogue he mentions, but does not refer to in full, as *Fihrist-i mahtutat-i Mawsil.* I found no publication with this title but in the similarly named work *Kitab mahtutat al-Mawsil*, there is a reference to a vocabulary that seems to be the one quoted by Yazıcı. The catalogue includes a *majmūʿa* listed as number 234 including three works and dated AH 889. The second of these works is described as 'a composition in verse (*manẓūmat*) divided into 20 sections (*qaṭʿat*) translating Persian words into Turkish and organised (*naẓm*) by Ḥusām b. Ḥasam al-Qūnavī'.78 Consequently, it appears that Tahsin Yazıcı has also misread the entry in the catalogue he used to attribute the Mosul copy to Husam al-Din Khuʾi and this lost copy of the work appears to have been yet another copy of the *Tuhfe-i Hüsami* of Husam Qunawi. There might still be debate about the attribution of this work or even the possibile existence of a Persian–Turkish vocabulary written by Husam al-Din Khuʾi. Perhaps the confusion comes from the fact that Husam Qunawi mentions that in composing his own vocabulary he found inspiration in the Arabic–Persian vocabulary (*Nasib al-fityan*) mentioned above and composed by Husam al-Din Khuʾi.79 This, and the fact that both individuals are called Husam, might have created some confusion and misattribution of Qunawi's vocabulary to Khuʾi in an attempt to prove the existence of a Persian–Turkish vocabulary already composed in Anatolia in the late 13th and early 14th centuries.80 We cannot fully disregard the fact that some other vocabulary, perhaps composed by Khuʾi, may have existed and served as a model for Husam Qunawi, but in view of the lack of available evidence, this remains mere speculation. Nonetheless, the circulation of dictionaries or vocabularies plus a clear interest in the translation of Arabic passages in the work of Husam al-Din Khuʾi are indications of the linguistic transformation that was occurring in Kastamonu, at least at court level. The multilingualism led to increasing need among local rulers to facilitate communication in the diverse environment of Mongol Anatolia.

Finally, like other men of letters in his time, Husam al-Din Khuʾi left some poetry in the Persian language compiled in a work known as the *Multamasat*, which is considered his *dīvān* of poetry.81 In the preface to this work, Husam al-Din states that it contains 100 *rubāʿī*s with different requests or supplications (*multamasāt-i mutafarraq*) made at court by companies (*maʿāshir*) and boon companions (*munādamāt*) of the sultan.82 The only copy of this work survived in a late (17th- or 18th-century) *majmūʿa* containing other works in Arabic, Turkish and Persian.83 The work lacks any dedication and the name of the sultan in question is not given in the text. However, together with the other works mentioned above, this work adds to the interest of Husam al-Din Khuʾi's literary production for affairs of the court and the state, placing his works at the centre of the construction of a political apparatus at the service of an incipient dynasty in north-western Anatolia.

#### *3.1.3 Qutb al-Din Shirazi and the Chobanids of Kastamonu*

The dedication to a ruler of Kastamonu of a work by the famous Qutb al-Din Shirazi (d. 1311) is perhaps the highest achievement of the Chobanid rulers in terms of prestige, and denotes the dynasty's growing political and economic influence in Anatolia during the 1280s.84 Born in Shiraz in 1236, he became famous during his lifetime as one of the finest scholars of his time. At a young age, he studied medical science to work initially a practitioner at a local hospital in Shiraz, but later he became more interested in discussing the works of the famous Ibn Sina (d. 1037).85 He left his home town at the age of 26 and, after spending some time in Baghdad, he reached the Observatory of Maragha in north-western Azerbaijan, founded by the Mongol Ilkhan Hülegü (d. 1265) and directed at the time by the famous Nasir al-Din Tusi (d. 1274).86 Under the tutelage of the latter, Qutb al-Din studied medicine, philosophy, mathematics and astronomy and worked as a scribe, copying several works by Tusi that survive to the present day.87 By 1274, he found his way to Konya, where he briefly studied with Sadr al-Din Qunawi (d. 1274) and obtained the position of qadi (judge) of Sivas and Malatya thanks to his proximity to the governor of Anatolia (Muʿin al-Din Sulayman, d. 1277) and the Mongol vizier Shams al-Din Juwayni (d. 1285).88 From the late 1270s, Qutb al-Din Shirazi settled in Sivas and began a prolific literary production of over 50 attributed works on themes including religion, medicine, mathematics and astronomy.89 His proximity to the Ilkhanid court might have brought Shirazi permanently to Tabriz in the 1290s, where he would live, apart from a short period away in Gilan, until his death in 1311.90

During his lifetime, Qutb al-Din Shirazi became a recognised astronomer thanks partly to the prestige gained by being a disciple of Tusi but also because of the quality of his works on this subject. While in Anatolia, Shirazi composed two astronomical works in Arabic. One was the *Nihayat al-idrak fi dirayat al-aflak* composed in Sivas in 1281 and dedicated to Shams al-Din Juwayni.91 This was his major work on astronomy up to that point and aimed to synthesise some of the astronomical theories he had learned while studying in Maragha.92 The second work was composed between Sivas and Malatya in 1285 and entitled *al-Tuhfat al-shahiyya fi al-hayʾa*, composed between Sivas and Malatya in 1285. Although similar in content to the *Nihayat al-idrak,* this work adds some additional material on astronomical sciences.93 Also written in Arabic, this work was dedicated to Taj al-Din Muʿtazz b. Tahir, a bureaucrat of the Seljuqs of Rum whose father acted as qadi for Jalal al-Din Khwarazmshah (d. 1231) before the family joined the rulers of Anatolia in the 13th century.94 Traditionally, it has been suggested that based on these two Arabic texts, Qutb al-Din Shirazi produced a Persian translation and summary that came to be known as the *Ikhtiyarat-i Muzaffari* (Selections for Muzaffar) in honour of the patron of the work, Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek, ruler of Kastamonu.95

The idea that the *Ikhtiyarat-i Muzaffari* is only an abridgement of the two other Arabic works has been questioned recently by Niazi.96 In his view, the *Ikhtiyarat* might have been completed some time before December 1284, which means that this Persian work would have been written before the *Tuhfat alshahiyya*. 97 In fact, there is a copy of the work currently held at the National Library of the I. R. of Iran with a colophon dating the copy of the manuscript on the 22 Jumada I 682 (23 August 1283) by a certain Muhammad b. Mahmud b. Abd al-Rahman Tabrizi (Figure 3.3).98 This reinforces Niazi's chronology of the composition of Shirazi's astronomical works and confirmed that the *Ikhtiyarat-i Muzaffari* must have been composed in the city of Sivas some time before Shirazi composed the *al-Tuhfat al-shahiyya fi al-hayʾa*. The *Ikhtiyarat*, together with the other two Arabic texts of the author, focuses on the study of the upper planets and contains a critique of certain Ptolomean principles.99 Although Arabic was a more conventional language for writing scientific literature, this work was written in Persian, which perhaps contributed to the popularity it achieved in medieval and modern times. A relatively high number of manuscript copies of the text were produced in Anatolia and other parts of the Islamic world (especially in Iran) that have survived to the present.100 The oldest copy held at Turkish libraries (Ms. Fatih 5302) was copied in Muharram AH 722(?) (1322) in the city of Antalya.101 The name of the copyist is hard to read, but it appears to be Muhammad al-Tustari, suggesting an Iranian origin for this presumably Anatolian resident.102 The manuscript bears seals from the libraries of the Ottoman sultans Bayezid II (r. 1481–1512) and Mahmud I (r. 1730–54), which, together with other copies dating from the 15th and 16th centuries, suggests that interest in this work was still high in early Ottoman times.103

To my knowledge, Shirazi never visited Kastamonu, so the dedication to Muzaffar al-Din was not the product of the astronomer visiting the Chobanid court. One possibility is that the dedication was done by Shirazi from his residence in Sivas through the mediation of a visiting dignitary from Kastamonu, or that the ruler visited Sivas when travelling, as described in Chapter 2, with Masʿud II to the court of Abaqa in Tabriz in the early 1280s. Another possibility is that, since based on the date of copy of ms. 13074 (Figure 3.3), the date of composition of the work must be prior to 1283 CE, then there may have been an encounter between the ruler of Kastamonu and Qutb al-Din Shirazi during the imprecise numbers of years that Muzzafar al-Din spent at the Ilkhanid court. Shirazi was a frequent visitor to the Mongol court in Tabriz during the time when he occupied his post as qadi of Sivas. Hence, it is not impossible that Muzaffar al-Din and Shirazi met at the Mongol court in Tabriz, with the latter dedicating the *Ikhtiyarat-i Muzaffari* to this emerging Turkmen leader who had become a Mongol ally on the western borders of the Ilkhanate.104

Niazi has suggested that when Ibn Bibi mentions that the Mongol Ilkhan gave Sultan Masʿud control over Sivas and Malatya, this should not be read as a literal assignment of the cities' control to the sultan, but rather that they were placed under his command. In his view, it is possible that the actual political control over these cities might have been given to Muzaffar al-Din of Kastamonu.105 Consequently, if this interpretation is correct, in 1284, Shirazi would have been the qadi of these cities under the control of the Chobanid ruler. Considering this historical context makes more reasonable this work being dedicated to a peripheral ruler like Muzaffar al-Din by a prestigious scholar such as Shirazi. Further, there seems to be a clear language distinction in the dedication of the works of Qutb al-Din Shirazi, who dedicated his Arabic works mostly to senior Ilkhanid and Seljuq dignitaries such as Shams al-Din Juwayni (d. 1284), the Seljuq prince Taj al-Din Muʿtazz b. Tahir, or Ghazan Khan's *ṣāḥib dīwān* Saʿd al-Din Muhammad Savaji (d. 1298), who would probably have had a good command of this language. However, the author had to compose a work on astronomy in Persian to satisfy the needs

*Figure 3.3* National Library of Iran (Tehran, I.R. of Iran), Ms. 13074, f 176a. (Colophon of the *Ikhtiyarat-i Muzaffari*).

of the Turkish-speaking Muzaffar al-Din, who, as suggested by all the texts patronised by him and his family, probably had a decent command of Persian at this time.

A brief final remark needs to be made about another possible work of Qutb al-Din Shirazi, of which the existence is somewhat uncertain. In his PhD dissertation and the edited version of it, Walbridge lists a work named *Intikhabi Sulaymaniyya*, which he translates as 'Salomon's Choice'.106 According to him, this would be an abridged version or summary of the famous *Ihyaʾ ʿulum al-din* (Revival of Religious Sciences), written by Abu Hamid Muhammad b. Muhammad al-Ghazali (d. 1111).107 The composition of such a work would be interesting as further evidence of Shirazi's concern with Sufi ideas and of his knowledge and interest in Ghazali's work. But what is further relevant for the purpose of this book is that Walbridge claims that this work was dedicated to Amir Mahmud b. Muzaffar al-Din (d. 1309), last ruler of the Chobanid dynasty. Unfortunately, Walbridge provides no manuscript evidence for the existence of this text and he only refers to Mujtaba Minuvi's article on Shirazi, where I found no references about this particular work.108 Contrary to Walbridge's claim, Uzunçarşılı makes a connection between the name of the work, *Intikhab-i Sulaymaniyya* and the first ruler of the Jandarid dynasty (Sulayman Pasha, d. *c*. 1340) who succeeded the Chobanids in northwestern Anatolia.109 However, Uzunçarşılı does not provide any references to existing or lost manuscript copies of the text to back up his assertion about the dedication of this work to Sulayman Pasha.110 The whereabouts of this work are still being investigated, but if it exists and was really copied for Amir Mahmud, it will provide yet more evidence of the concern with religion shown by the rulers of this emerging dynasty and the continuing patronage of Shirazi's works.

#### *3.1.4 Other works connected to the Chobanids of Kastamonu*

Literary production in the Persian language in north-western Anatolia during the 13th century was not limited only to those works composed specifically for the Chobanids or by authors working in their court. Other works were copied and circulated in the area, providing an even larger corpus that served to complement the general idea of the region's literary activity. Scattered evidence suggests that Chobanid patronage might also have extended to other regions outside Kastamonu, where these rulers had direct or indirect political influence. Sinop appears to be the place of the composition of a work by Muʾayyid al-Din al-Jandi (d. 1312–13), the *Nafhat al-ruh wa tuhfat al-futuh*, a Persian work composed not later than AH 704 (1303–04), in which the author tries to bring Sufism more accessible for non-Arabic speakers.111 Jandi mentions that he wrote this book for a pious noble lady of Sinop, descendant of a certain Zayn al-Dunya wa al-Din, which, as suggested by Peacock, could either be the name of a person or a royal title (it means 'ornament of the religion and the world').112

Following this suggestion, the title might have belonged to a descendant of the *parvāna* Muʿin al-Din Sulayman, who was the Mongol governor of Anatolia in the 1270s, or perhaps a member of the Chobanid royal family that controlled the city of Sinop in this period.113 Similarly, Melville has suggested the possibility that Nasir al-Din, a son of Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek, could be the patron of the anonymous *Tarikh-i al-i Saljuq*, one of the surviving chronicles of the Seljuqs of Rum.114 Although composed by different hands over a considerable period of time, the work reached its current form in Konya not before AH 741 (1341–42), offering therefore another example of the patronage of literary works by the Chobanids spreading beyond the borders of the region of Kastamonu to include other cities such as Sinop and Konya.115

The study of manuscript production in the Kastamonu area in this period is useful for uncovering a select group of people – possibly at the court and in literate circles – that consumed certain types of literary genres. There are not many manuscripts copied in north-western Anatolia that have survived to the present. In fact, manuscript production in Kastamonu seems to have begun at a much bigger scale under the Jandarid dynasty (1308–1461) and especially from the 15th century onwards, when manuscripts copied in Kastamonu become more available in Turkish libraries.116 In other areas dominated by the Chobanids, the situation was very similar to that of their capital. With the exception of one manuscript copied in Sinop apparently in AH 708, places like Çankırı, Tosya, Çorum and Samsun left no dated manuscripts until the Ottoman period.117

One remarkable exception to the lack of surviving manuscripts from the period is a copy of a Persian *majmūʿa* (compendium of works) preserved as manuscript Fatih 5406, mentioned above. It contains not only the oldest copy we have of three texts by Husam al-Din Khuʾi (including the only copy of his work *Ghunyat al-talib wa munyat al-katib*), but also holds other works bound in this codex that offer a window on the type of texts circulating in the region during the late years of Chobanid rule. The initial folios (ff. 1–32) of the manuscript correspond to the famous *Nasihat al-muluk*, which attribution to the above-mentioned Ghazali (d. 1111) has been contested.118 On this occasion, however, the theme of the work is rather different from that of the *Intikhab-i Sulaymaniyya* mentioned above and allegedly translated by Shirazi and dedicated to Mahmud Bey Choban. The *Nasihat* was probably composed in AH 499 (1105) although there are some questions regarding the dedication, date of composition and authenticity of the work.119 This is one of the classic texts belonging to the genre of mirrors for princes that became popular in the Persian-speaking world from the 11th century onwards (see Chapter 4).

The copy of Ghazali's work in this area of Anatolia in the 13th century and its inclusion together with works of Husam al-Din Khuʾi offers, in my view, some interesting connotations. First, part of the political theory contained in the *Nasihat al-muluk* makes an interesting point about the need for unity between religion (*dīn*) and kingship (*pādishāhī*) in a rightful ruler.120 This emphasis on the need for a ruler to embrace religion as a way to get closer to the ideal of government is a recurrent theme in all the surviving literature patronised by the Chobanids from the *Fustat al-ʿadala* to some of the works of Husam al-Din Khuʾi. Consequently, the inclusion of the *Nasihat* helps to reinforce this notion of the need for a commitment to religious matters from secular rulers that will be specifically highlighted in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* (see Chapter 5). Secondly, like some of Khuʾi's works included in this *majmūʿa*, the contested second part of the *Nizahat al-Muluk*, which might not have been written by Ghazali but circulated together with the uncontested first part, contains a detailed explanation of offices and chancellery practices dating from the time of the Great Seljuqs. Hence, there might be a practical purpose in the introduction of the *Nasihat* in this compendium, as a way to help the reader to contextualise some of the words, titles and concepts mentioned by Khuʾi in his works. Finally, although the circulation of this particular text in its original Persian language appears to have been rather limited since its composition, the version in Ms. Fatih 5406 was copied in its original language, emphasising once again the interest in this type of literature and the preference for Persian as a written language during the Chobanids' rule of Kastamonu.121

The fifth and last work included in the manuscript Fatih 5406 is of a different nature to all the others. The text (ff. 99–130) includes mostly personal letters written by a certain Saʿd al-Din Masʿud, a medical doctor, poet and scholar originally from eastern Anatolia or western Iran.122 He left up to seven letters that are referred to as 'aid letters' by Osman Turan in his description of the work.123 Chapter 6 discusses this work and the significance it might have for our understanding of Anatolia's social and cultural history in the 13th century. Yet, what is relevant to this section is that it was copied together with one work by Ghazali and three by Husam al-Din Khuʾi in the same codex. The letters were composed in northern Anatolia and describe various landscapes, impressions and personal feelings of the author in the territories controlled by the Chobanids. The text includes poetic descriptions of Sinop and accounts of the author's travels to the towns of Samsun, the region of Canik and even some references to the more distant city of Niksar.124 Beyond the historical value of these letters, I believe its inclusion at the end of the manuscripts reflects, as in the case of the *Nasihat,* the intention of the copyist/compiler of the manuscripts to complement the other texts in the compendium. The letters of Saʿd al-Din could serve as further examples of different types of letter-writing similar to those offered by Husam al-Din Khuʾi in his two works included in Ms. Fatih 5406. As seen above, both the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil* and the *Rusum al-rasaʾil* make special references to this topic.

It is hard to be conclusive on the full scale of manuscript production in 13th-century Kastamonu, when only one unique codex produced during this period in the region has survived until the present. However, when this unique copy is considered in conjunction with works patronised by the dynasty, it is possible to see some thematic commonalities that give us a more nuanced picture of the possible literary milieu of the period. The inclusion of Ghazali's *Nasihat al-muluk* and even the later addition of a section of the *Siyar*  *al-muluk* in Ms. Fatih 5406 seems to go hand-in-hand with texts patronised by the Chobanids.125 Like the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, on top of having an important religious component, it dedicates a large part of the work to commenting on the *Siyasatnama* of Nizam al-Mulk. Those works copied in the only surviving manuscript produced in the final years of Chobanid rule have a considerable thematic coherence. The literary production in this part of Anatolia in the 13th century shows a shared concern with aspects of kingship, rule and diplomacy. Consequently, even though no further manuscripts produced in the area have survived, the collective analysis of the literary genres produced under their rule demonstrates that Chobanid literary patronage was not a simple act of 'buying prestige', but was rather a coherent policy of literary production.

### **3.2 Architectural patronage in Chobanid Kastamonu**

The political fragmentation of Anatolia, due to the decline of the centralised patronage of the Seljuqs of Rum in the late 13th century and especially in the 14th century, has been seen as the reason for the diversification of architectural patronage and styles in different parts of Anatolia.126 In the case of Kastamonu and north-western Anatolia, the patronage of architecture was especially prominent under the Jandarid dynasty, with the construction of a number of mosques in the capital as well as other major cities of the realm such as Sinop.127 The architectural splendour of 14th-century Kastamonu surprised even the famous Ibn Battuta, who after spending over a month in the city, described it as among 'the largest and finest cities [of Anatolia]'.128 However, the architecture of Kastamonu began a deep transformation in the 13th century, when the Chobanid dynasty took control of the city and began to cement its power over the region.

It is a general tendency among Turco-Mongol empires that after taking control and settling in an area largely populated by native subjects, they used architecture as a way to alter the landscape of the conquered people.129 The patronage of architecture among these rulers served a double purpose. On the one hand, it was a way in which the conquerors could demonstrate their supremacy over the subjects, as they transformed the space of the defeated population, even if the rulers would dwell initially in rural areas and did not reside permanently in the cities they conquered. On the other hand, this patronage helped stimulate proximity between rulers and the urban nobility that generally was left with the task of collecting taxes and administering the towns and cities. There is no reason to doubt that, although on a lesser scale, the Chobanids followed patterns of architectural patronage similar to other dynasties with a nomadic origin before them. They mainly invested their financial support in the construction or restoration of mosques and rulers' graves, which functioned as key buildings that symbolised the dynasty's presence in religious and secular statements of power in the city.130

The building that dominates the landscape in the city of Kastamonu is the castle, situated at the top of a sandstone hill that rises 112 metres over the city

centre of the modern city.131 The castle was constructed by the Byzantines at the end of the 12th century as one of a number of fortifications in the still Greekdominated province of Paphlagonia.132 Although the castle was certainly used by the Chobanid rulers on different occasions, there is no evidence of any major financial involvement on the dynasty's part in repairing or expanding the fortress.133 The lack of evidence of any major construction works being carried out in the castle does not mean that the patronage of the Chonabids focused only on religious buildings. For example, the name of Muzaffar al-Din Masʿud b. Alp Yürek appears also in an inscription dated AH 729 (1328–29) as one of the founders of a public bath (hammam) in the region of Taşköprü, a few kilometres east of the city of Kastamonu.134 This suggest that the involvement of the Chobanid rulers in financing public buildings in the region went beyond the type of buildings we will describe in this chapter. However, this section aims only at providing a general overview of the main buildings still standing in the city of Kastamonu that received financial patronage from the Chobanid court and to connect that with the region's religious and political context in the 13th century. In doing so, we are cautiously leaving aside an important architectural heritage scattered in rural areas and small towns around the Chobanid territories.135 We hope further research on the architectural legacy of the dynasty in the region might complement the information provided in this brief section.

### *3.2.1 Patronage of Islamic institutions*

A decent amount of research has been done on the patronage of religious buildings among local Turkmen and Turco-Mongol dynasties in 13th-century Iran and Anatolia.136 This type of patronage has been a common phenomenon across the Middle East since the time of the Great Seljuqs' expansion in the 11th century. This act of patronage can be seen not only as a way in which a new dynasty was able to gain legitimacy over the conquered people, but also as a testimony of the gradual Islamisation of these new nomadic elites who had settled in Islamic lands. In Anatolia, the construction of mosques and the transformation of churches into Islamic buildings has been documented throughout the peninsula from the 11th century onwards.137 This transformation of the religious landscape did not mean a clear-cut substitution of Christian buildings for Islamic ones, but being a Muslim dynasty at the frontier between Islam and Christianity, the Chobanids played a role in the transformation of the religious landscape of 13th-century north-western Anatolia. Although the evidence is not always clear on the personal involvement of a particular ruler in the support of a given building, it was certainly in the 13th century when the regions of Kastamonu, Safranbolu, Sinop and Çankırı began to witness the construction of mosques and madrasas that would expand during the 14th century.138

The first example of Chobanid patronage of a religious building is generally thought to be the support of the dynasty's founder Husam al-Din Choban for the construction of a place of worship in the Akçasu neighbourhood in the town of Kuzyaka, a few kilometres south of the city of Kastamonu.139 The mosque is known as the Akçasu Camii and is said to have been founded before 1250. Little survives today of the building's original structure as renovations carried out during the 20th century appear to have changed its original shape.140 The external wall of the mosque has also been replaced and cleaned on different occasions, erasing any possible inscription that could have been made in the walls. The mosque shape is nowadays in a rectangular plan of 8 x 14 m, including a prayer hall and a minaret that are very similar to those found in other mosques in central Kastamonu. However, the centre of the mosque looks like a small replica of the Atabey Gazi mosque (see below), which confirms the Chobanid origin of this building (see Figure 3.4).141 The Akçasu mosque is a small building on the outskirts of Kastamonu and consequently may have had little impact on a city where, during the first half of the 13th century, there may still have been a large Christian population. However, this early construction might have served to provide a place of worship for the recently Islamised Turkmen people that accompanied Husam al-Din Bey into north-western Anatolia. Its location might also reflect the position of the royal camp at the times when the Chobanids stayed close to the city of Kastamonu.

It was not until the 1270s, around the same time that there was an upsurge in building activity throughout Mongol-ruled Anatolia, that the first mosque was constructed inside the city of Kastamonu by Chobanid initiative. The Atabey Gazi mosque is one of oldest of its kind in the city.142 Like the Akçasu Camii, it has a rectangular plan in a much larger scale (30.5 x 19 m) but it is located inside the city, a few metres downhill from the Byzantine castle. The mosque is also referred to as the Kırk Direkli Camii (Forty Columns Mosque) because of the pillars that support the roof of the building. The whole interior of the building is made of wood, making the mosque one of the few remaining examples of the wooden mosques built in medieval Anatolia.143 The mosque continued to be one of the major architectural references in the city throughout the Ottoman period, being the place of burial of Kastamonu elites up to the 19th century.144 Today the building is fully functional and is open for prayers after some major renovations were recently made.

The mosque takes the name of the legendary figure of Atabey Ghazi (Gazi), a hero-like figure who allegedly fought in the region against the Byzantines in the 12th century. The tradition around the mosque's foundation is embellished with jihadi connotations. Some sources mention that the original building was a Christian church that Husam al-Din Choban converted into a mosque on a Friday, after he took the city from the Byzantines. The new ruler allegedly expelled the Christian clerics while they were delivering a sermon and from that day onwards, the building became the congregation mosque where Friday prayers were conducted by Muslims.145 However, an inscription has survived on the wall of the mosque dating the construction of the building to the year 1273.146 The inscription places the construction of the mosque in a period of Kastamonu's history that, as we saw in Chapter 2, is rather obscure. Nonetheless, the inscription might be referring to a re-foundation of the mosque as an initiative of Alp Yürek (Yavlaq Arslan) (d. *c*. 1280), the son of Husam al-Din Choban. Consequently, the Atabey Gazi mosque is the product of the patronage of a second generation of Turkmen rulers, who now seem to have had not only the resources to build larger buildings, but to do it inside the city walls and close to the garrison castle that protected the town.

*Figure 3.4* Picture of the Atabey Gazi Mosque in Kastamonu.

### 96 *Literary and architectural patronage under the Chobanids*

The Atabey Gazi mosque was expanded a few years later by Alp Yürek's son Muzaffar al-Din, and became the main centre of Kastamonu's religious life. By the third decade of the 14th century, the Maghribi traveller Ibn Battuta visited the city of Kastamonu and had the chance to witness how the members of the Jandarid ruling dynasty of Kastamonu conducted Friday prayers in the mosque:

This mosque is a wooden building of three stories; the sultan, the officers of state, the *qāḓi* and the jurists, and the chief officers of the army pray in the lowest story; '*Afandī*'*,* who is the Sultan's brother, together with his entourage and attendants, and some of the townspeople, pray in the middle story; and the sultan's son and heir (he is his youngest son, and is called al-Jawad),147 with his retinue, slaves and attendants, and the rest of the population, pray in the top story. The Quran-readers assemble and sit in a circle in front of the *miḥrāb,* and along with them sit the *khaṭīb* and the *qāḓi*. The sultan has his place in line with the *miḥrāb.* They recite the *Sūra* of The Cave with beautiful intonations, and repeat the verses in a marvellous arrangement. When they finish the recital of this, the *khaṭīb* mounts the *mimbar* and delivers the address. He then prays, and after finishing this prayer, they perform further additional prayers. The reader now recites one tenth of the Quran in the sultan's presence, after which the sultan and his suite withdraw. The reader proceeds to recite before the sultan's brother; he also withdraws with his attendants at the end of this recital, and the reader then recites before the sultan's son. When he finishes this recital, the *muʿarrif* stands up and praises the sultan in Turkish verse, and praises also his son, calling down blessings on both, and retires.148

The expansion of the Atabey Gazi mosque was not the only contribution made by Muzaffar al-Din to the construction of religious buildings in the city of Kastamonu. He also financed the construction of another small mosque in a new neighbourhood of the city that began to be built in the 13th century downhill from the castle. Also known as the Soğukkuyu mosque, the building remained a place of worship until 1941, when it was sold and the land passed into the hands of the General Directory of Endowments (*Vakıflar Genel Müdürlüğü*).149 The mosque apparently also included a madrasa that provided religious education and contained a small collection of books. The school became relatively prestigious and was still running in the 15th century, when hagiographic literature of the Halveti Sufi order refers to the madrasa.150 Unfortunately, the building that hosted the madrasa survived only until 1963, when it was demolished and the collection of 125 books that formed its library were transferred to the Kastamonu İl Halk Kütüphanesi.151

The city of Kastamonu was not the only urban centre that received financial support for the construction of religious buildings from Chobanid rulers. Under the reign of Muzaffar al-Din, the town of Taşköprü, located some 45 km north-east of Kastamonu, became an alternative centre of power for the dynasty. The town developed close to the Roman city of Pompeiopolis, and Turkish populations settled in the area from the 11th century.152 However, in the 13th century, it acquired a more relevant strategic position as it became one of the stopping points in the route connecting Kastamonu with the port of Sinop.153

A passage in the book of travels of Ibn Battuta recalls that after spending some days in Kastamonu, he travelled to a 'certain village' where he lodged at a large *zāwiya.* He describes this hospice as 'one of the finest hospices that I saw in that country'.154 The Maghribi traveller mentions that the hospice was built by a great amir of the past whom he calls Fakhr al-Din. It is highly probable that Ibn Battuta is referring to the village of Taşköprü and that the actual name of the amir is Muzaffar al-Din Choban, the name of whom he might have confused by a slip of memory.155 Evidence of Ibn Battuta's visit to Taşköprü is even more compelling when the traveller adds that the same amir founded a bath house (hammam) and a bazaar, and made an endowment for the congregational mosque in the town. He also mentions that endowments were made to sustain poor Muslims who were coming from the Holy Cities, Syria, Egypt, Iraq, Khurasan and other parts of Rum, so they could eat and stay in the *zāwiya*.

In confirming some of Ibn Battuta's descriptions, Yakupoğlu has identified up to five different structures erected by the Chobanids in this town. In addition to the bath (hammam) mentioned above, which has been recently renovated and is currently in use by the modern inhabitants of the town, a fountain (*çeşme*) and a Sufi lodge (*zāwiya*) are also attributed to the Chobanid ruler's financial support.156 While the fountain, dated from the period 1279–91, was destroyed during a fire in 1927, the *zāwiya* is located outside the town, in the village of Tokaş. 157 The remaining two buildings are a mosque and a madrasa commissioned together by Muzaffar al-Din to be built side-by-side in the town of Taşköprü. Like the fountain, the madrasa was destroyed in the 1927 fire and a new mosque (Yeni Camii) was built in its place in the 1950s. However, accounts from the 19th century describe the place as an active school that educated around 20 students.158 Different pieces of documentary evidence (*awqāf*) confirm the successive endowments given to both the madrasa and the mosque by the Jandarid and the Ottoman dynasties that took over the town of Taşköprü from the 14th century onwards.159

These early examples of patronage of religious buildings in the Kastamonu area were the prolegomena for the larger expansion of Islamic institutions in the region in the 14th century and especially in the 15th century, during the peak of Jandarid influence in the area. However, some older mosques also remain in the region, dating from the first half of the 14th century and the early post-Chobanid period. One of them, located in the Ibn al-Najjar neighbourhood in Kastamonu, is known as the İbn-i Neccar Camii, built in AH 754 (1353) under the rule of Adil Bey Jandar (r. 1346–61). According to the inscription in *naskh* script found in the mosque, the building was founded by a certain al-Hajj Nasir b. al-Murad al-Mushtahir, known as Ibn Najjar, about whom there seems to be little information apart from the suggestion that he came from a family of carpenters (*najjār*).160 Other examples of early religious constructions in the 14th century are the Mahmud Bey Camii, built in AH 768 (1366–67) and a number of early 14th-century mosques built by this dynasty in Sinop, where patronage of mosques among the Jandarids started before that in Kastamonu.161

If compared with the expansion of construction in the 14th century, the Chobanids' patronage activity of Islamic architecture seems rather modest. However, the foundation of two mosques and a madrasa in the area is testimony to the gradual assimilation of this Turkmen dynasty into the religious and urban elites of Kastamonu. The early establishment of a mosque outside the city, the apparent expropriation of a church to be transformed into a mosque, and the later foundation of a madrasa exemplify how, in the course of three generations, the Chobanid rulers went from military protectors on the outskirts of town to central actors in supporting the Islamisation of Kastamonu in the 13th century.

#### *3.2.2 The expression of popular religion: Religious and secular mausoleums (***türbeler***)*

We need to emphasise the fact that Kastamonu was, in the 13th century, a frontier zone, far from the centre of the Islamic world but close to the weakened but still prestigious Christian empire of Byzantium. As such, the region underwent a long process of Islamisation throughout the 13th century in which the construction of mosques and madrasas was perhaps connected to a more orthodox Islam, represented by the ulama and the urban elites of Kastamonu that benefited from these places of worship and education. However, in parallel, there is always a less institutionalised Islam that is generally connected, although not exclusively, to the middle and lower ranges of society. In addition, the growing autonomy that the region of Kastamonu enjoyed in the 13th century, with the political fragmentation of first Seljuq and then Mongol political power, favoured the development of more popular types of religiosity in this border area of Anatolia. The newly Islamised Turkmen populations that migrated to the area appear to have favoured the proliferation of tombs (*türbeler*) of saints in the countryside and then also in the city, where they became part of the urban landscape from the second half of the 13th century onwards. These tombs grew in parallel with the mosques and madrasas generally more associated with the religious establishment.162 Yet, the more popular character of this form of spirituality does not mean that the secular powers, who constantly tried to please the upper classes, disregarded these alternative expressions of Islamic faith. On the contrary, both the Chobanids and the successor Jandarid dynasty supported the construction of shrines, encouraging pilgrimage to these sites that, in turn, produced not only economic benefits, but also played an important role in spreading Islam in a region that was far from homogeneous.163

One of these graves still standing in the region is the last resting place of a certain Aşıklı Sultan. According to tradition, he was a Seljuq commander who fell at the wall of the Kastamonu castle when the Seljuqs besieged the Byzantines in 1116. We do not know the name of the shrine's architect, or the exact date when the building was erected, but its styles leave little doubt about its 13th-century origin, marked also by some Seljuq symbols such as the eightpointed star carved in the rock that can still be seen on one of the walls of the shrine. The tomb was rebuilt in 2013 with the main entrance now covered with a door-size piece of glass that allows the visitor to see inside the tomb. In the interior, there are five sarcophagi containing the bodies of an unidentified martyr named Muhammad al-Maghribi, three anonymous saints and, in the middle, the coffin of Aşıklı Sultan.164 There is one particular feature of this site that illustrates the pilgrimage nature of the site and the type of religiosity of people who visited (and still visit) such places. The sarcophagus of Aşıklı Sultan has a glass-covered part at the bottom of the coffin. Through this little window, the modified feet of the saint can be seen emerging from the coffin in rather a good state of conservation, so that at least a part of the saint is made totally visible to pilgrims.165

In the same way that small mosques were being constructed outside the city of Kastamonu, tombs of Sufi shaykhs were also built in the countryside. An example of this type of building is the tomb of Şeyh Ahmet, located in the present district of Gölköy, around 12 km north of the city centre. The grave is attached to what seems to be the oldest mosque in the area and built in stone and rubble material, with the characteristic wooden roof of the period.166 An inscription mentions the date of 1206, but it has been suggested that the building could be even older and may have been constructed by the same Şeyh Ahmet who is buried there together with a Seljuq general that died in battle during the conquest of the region by Sultan ʿIzz al-Din Kılıç Arslan II (r. 1156–92). In addition, the modern building of the Nasr Allah mosque, in the centre of the city of Kastamonu hosts a grave that has been dated to AH 671 (1272). Apparently, the building functioned as a hospital in the 13th century, where Shaykh ʿAbd al-Fattah-i Wali (Abdülfettâh-ı Velî, d. 1272) used to reside and perform healing practices.167 The place became an important centre of pilgrimage in the 13th century and in later years, reinforced by the claim that the shaykh was a son of ʿAbd al-Qadir al-Jilani (d. 1166), the founder of the Qadiriyya Sufi order.

The construction of these *türbeler* not only served to glorify martyrs of past battles against the Christians or to venerate Sufi saints. During the Chobanid period, a shrine was constructed to bury the body of a religious scholar known as ʿAlaʾ al-Din. The sparse information available about him in the tomb suggests that he came from Central Asia (either Balkh or Bukhara) and was a famous commentator on the Quran, which granted him the title of *mufassir (müfessir*). As far as I am aware, no works by him seem to have survived, but we know of the existence of his *tafsīr* (commentary) thanks to a reference to the work mentioned in Aflaki's *Manaqib al-*ʿ*arifin*. According to the Mevlevi hagiographer Ulu ʿArif Çelebi, the grandson of Jalal al-Din Rumi carried a rather unusual copy of ʿAlaʾ al-Din's work with him while travelling in the vicinity of Tabriz. As a way to put an end to a discussion with Shihab al-Din Maqbuli-yi Qirshahri, ʿArif Çelebi exchanged his valuable copy for a rather ordinary copy of the *Bahr al-haqa*ʾ*iq*, a Quranic commentary by Shaykh Najm al-Din Razi (d. 1256).168 Aflaki portrays this as an act of generosity on the part of his spiritual leader, ʿArif Çelebi, and notes that the work of ʿAlaʾ al-Din of Kastamonu became known across Anatolia after this point.169 The tomb was constructed in 1289 by a Turkmen lord who at the time was in the service of the Chobanid dynasty – the future first ruler of the Jandarid dynasty Shams al-Din Yaman Jandar (d. early 14th century), about whom we have very little information.170

With the extensive construction of these *türbeler*, it is not surprising that the Chobanid rulers themselves had their own graves and mausoleums. Although none of them has survived in the city, it is suspected that the Karanlık Evliya Türbesi, constructed in clear Seljuq style in Kastamonu's Yavuz Selim neighbourhood, might host one of the Chobanid rulers. No inscriptions can be found on the building and no reference to the identity of the people buried in the tomb has come to light so far.171 Similarly, the Atabey Gazi Türbesi, the most emblematic tomb of the city, has mysterious origins (see Figure 3.5). Built in an octagonal form, it lacks any inscriptions that reveal any further details regarding the date of the building. Yet its construction is generally attributed to the time of Husam al-Din Choban himself, as part of the same tradition that connects him to the conversion of the Byzantine church into the Atabey mosque. Although this seems to be unlikely, the Atabey Türbesi is located next to the mosque in the building's south-east corner and contains three sarcophagi that have not been identified. Nonetheless, the fact that one of them is considerably larger than the others has encouraged speculation that it could have been the resting place of Husam al-Din Choban (see Figure 3.5).172

Some records suggest that a tomb dedicated to Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek was built in the city after his death. According to some accounts, it was located next to the mosque constructed by Muzaffar al-Din in the Sanat Okulu Street in the Saraçlar neighbourhood. Unfortunately, the tomb – and the mosque that stood next to it – was destroyed in the first half of the 20th century, but it would have been a few hundred metres south of the Atabey Gazi mosque in Kastamonu. In this place, a few tombstones can still be seen today poking out of the grass in a rather empty slot at the corner of two small streets. Scholars have argued that these stones share some characteristics of 13th-century Seljuq tombstones and believe that this might be the remains of the cemetery that surrounded the mosque.173 The names on the tombstones have not survived and therefore they cannot be clearly identified as tombs of Chobanid rulers, although it is believed that they might belong to Turkmen military commanders (such as Vehbi Gazi) of the Chobanid armies.174

Other lesser-known or unidentified personalities are buried in various different tombs across the city dating from the 13th century.175 The construction of these mausoleums/shrines expanded even further from the 14th century onwards with the arrival of the Jandarid dynasty, leaving the region from Sinop to Çankırı full of these small constructions dedicated to martyrs, Sufi shaykhs,

*Figure 3.5* Picture of the Atabey Gazi Türbesi.

newgenrtpdf

local rulers and local personalities. These shrines played different roles in the region's religious, political and economic development. They served to fulfil a popular need to express a type of religiosity different from that of the more institutionalised expression represented by the ulama. Simultaneously, they helped to spread Islam in both urban and rural areas of the region by planting these centres of worship in the landscape. In the case of the tombs of local rulers, their graves also served as propaganda to legitimise their rights over the territory and secure the dynasty's succession.176

The economic expansion of the Chobanids and the involvement of rulers in patronage of religious buildings, as seen in the previous section, meant that by the late 13th and early 14th century, more spaces of religious expression begin to appear in the region of Kastamonu. In this period, court patronage was no longer the only source of funding for Kastamonu's expanding architecture. Although relatively modest at this point, some private initiatives begin to emerge in this period that contributed to shape the landscape of the region's urban settlements. As we saw in Chapter 1, our knowledge of how trade was organised in the city of Kastamonu during the Chobanid period is very limited. The only solid account of the city's commercial vitality comes from the account of Ibn Battuta, who visited the region in the first half of the 14th century. As we have seen, he describes a variety of products produced and consumed in the area, together with a lively trade environment in the city. The proximity to the Black Sea shores and the strategic location of Kastamonu as a hub of different trade routes created a favourable environment for the presence of a particular social class of traders and artisans, generally known as *akhī*s, in medieval Kastamonu. This is a controversial term generally used to describe the leaders of groups of unmarried Muslim men congregated in communities often referred to as *futuwwa*. 177

As Sufi orders would do from the 14th century onwards, *futuwwa* organisations owned their own *zāwiya*s (lodges), were organised as brotherhoods and had an important religious component that united their members as a group. These fraternities were also dedicated to commerce, business and trade, as their members were often craftsmen, artisans and merchants living in urban settlements. During the late 13th and early 14th centuries, *akhī* lodges were founded in the region of Kastamonu thanks to the financial support of the rulers but also with the contribution of wealthy local landowners and traders. Ibn Battuta describes how he found accommodation in different *zāwiya*s during the time he spent in Kastamonu. He spent one night in the *zāwiya* founded by Muzaffar al-Din Choban in Taşköprü. Then, he left the town in the direction of Sinop, and on the way:

we spent a second night in a hospice on a lofty mountain without any habitations. It was established by one of the Young *akhīs* called Nizam al-Din, an inhabitant of Qastamuniya, and he gave it as endowment a village, the revenue from which was to be spent for the maintenance of wayfarers in this hospice.178

The presence of *akhī*s in the region of Kastamonu appears to have been widespread across the territory, including urban centres and rural areas. Ibn Battuta's observations are corroborated in other source material, some of which even precedes the time of the Maghribi traveller's visit. There are references to *akhī*s in medieval Kastamonu mainly contained in waqf (endowment) documents found today at the Vakıflar Archives in Ankara. Although most of these endowments date to the 15th century, two of them date from the period of Chobanid rule.179 An entry in the archive mentions that a certain Şeyh Ahi Şurve was the endower who donated the funds for the foundation of a *zāwiya* in the neighbourhood of Beyçelebi, located in Kastamonu, in the month of Rabiʿ I, AH 703 (October 1303).180 Apart from land for the construction of the lodge, the waqf lists a number of properties endowed by Şeyh Ahi Şurve in different towns around the city of Kastamonu (Hisarcık, Kuzyaka). Further, the *akhī* donated a farm in the coastal district of Karasu by the Black Sea, two gardens (*bahçe*) – one in the *zāwiya* itself and another in the centre of the city of Kastamonu – and hilly terrain that included a forest in a place given as Kızılca-viran.181 The properties were given in perpetuity to the lodge, with the condition that they could not be bought or sold, pledged, granted, or inherited, but only be used for the maintenance of the *zāwiya* and the community hosted in the property. The revenues of the properties were to be divided into three: one-third for the consumption and maintenance of the community, one-third to be managed by the endower, and a final third to be given to the poor.182

Ibn Battuta's account demonstrates that *zāwiya*s served to accommodate travellers, religious scholars and poor people, while providing distinctive religious spaces for brotherhoods of *akhī*s and Sufis in the region. The establishment of these hospices required major economic investment on the part of a private sector that seems not only to have been increasing its economic capacity, but also felt the need for alternative religious spaces from those patronised by the court. While the tombs scattered across the region of Kastamonu served as places of pilgrimage, playing an economic role in attracting pilgrims, donations and offerings to this distant corner of the Islamic world, *zāwiya*s provided the means to facilitate the movement of people in the area while offering alternative places of worship and religious interaction.

### **Notes**


### 104 *Literary and architectural patronage under the Chobanids*


### 106 *Literary and architectural patronage under the Chobanids*

Konya area and, based on the dating of this manuscript (AH 660 (1262)), that he might have been active in the first half of the 13th century. As Andrew Peacock has suggested in a personal communication, the family connection between Nasir al-Din and the family of Husam al-Din Khuʾi might be a possibility rather than a probability. Yet it certainly highlights the presence of quite a few individuals from Khuy active at the Seljuq court in the mid-13th century. See William C. Chittick, *Faith and Practice of Islam: Three Thirteenth Century Sufi Texts* (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1992), pp. 255–62; another person from Khuy named Najm al-Din Khuʾi is mentioned in a 13th-century template used in a Persian accounting manual written in 1363 known as the *Risala-yi falakiyya.* See Baki Tezcan, 'The Memory of the Mongols in Early Ottoman Historiography', in H. Erdem Cipa and Emine Fetvaci (eds), *Writing History at the Ottoman Court: Editing the Past, Fashioning the Future* (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2013), p. 36, fn. 28.


Cevdet Yakupoğlu and Namiq Musali*, Selçuklu İnşa Sanatı* (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu, 2018), pp. 117–68.


to thank Zeynep Oktay and Tulay Yurekli for their help in locating copies of these manuscripts.


was a common epithet used to refer to women members of royal houses. See Rustam Shukurov, *The Byzantine Turks, 1204–1461* (Leiden: Brill, 2016), pp. 203–04.


### 112 *Literary and architectural patronage under the Chobanids*

des études iraniennes, 2005); Bruno De Nicola, 'Pādshāh Khātūn (1256–1295): an Example of Architecture, Religious and Literary Patronage in the Ilkhanid Iran', in Michal Biran, Jonathan Brack and Francesca Fiaschetti (eds), *Along the Silk Roads in Mongol Eurasia* (Berkeley CA: California University Press, 2020), pp. 270– 89. For Anatolia, see Howard Crane, 'Notes on Saldjūq Architectural Patronage in Thirteenth Century Anatolia', *Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient* 36:1 (1993), pp. 1–57; more specifically, see Suzan Yalman, 'The "Dual Identity" of Mahperi Khatun: Piety, Patronage and Marriage across Frontiers in Seljuk Anatolia', in Patricia Blessing and Rachel Goshgarian (eds), *Architecture and Landscape in Medieval Anatolia, 1100–1500* (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2017), pp. 224–52; Patricia Blessing, *Rebuilding Anatolia After the Mongol Conquest: Islamic Architecture in the Lands of Rum, 1240–1330* (London: Routledge, 2016).


### 114 *Literary and architectural patronage under the Chobanids*

dynasty of Kastamonu, the work contains interlinear translation in Turkish and was produced in 14th-century Kastamonu according to Abdulkadiroğlu. See Abdulkerim Abdulkadiroğlu, 'Cevahirü'l-Esdaf'ın Müellifi veya Mütercimi Meselesim', in Kastamonu Yüksekokulu Koruma Derneği (ed.),. *Türk Tarihinde ve Kültüründe Kastamonu Tebliğler 19–21 Ekim 1988 Kastamonu* (Ankara: Ayyıldız Matbaası, 1989), pp. 35, 40; Ahmet Topaloğlu, 'Kur'an-ı Kerim'in ilk Türkçe tercümeleri ve Cevâhirü'l-asdâf', *Türk Dünyası Araştırmaları* 27 (1983), pp. 58–66.


## **4 A mirror for princes for the Chobanids** Re-interpreting the *Siyar al-muluk*

The literary genre generally referred to as 'mirrors for princes' or 'advice literature' became popular in medieval courts both in Christian and Muslim territories. On the one hand, these works were conceived to provide rulers, officials and members of the court with a description of moral and practical duties towards their subjects, the administration of the state and their desired conduct in the eyes of God. On the other, mirrors for princes also had a more pragmatic purpose for the authors. The majority of them were composed to serve as evidence of the authors' literary capability and used as a means to obtain positions in the court, or financial rewards, or to challenge political rivals. These works generally mix concepts of practical ethics with pragmatic issues that may arise during the reign of a ruler. The origin of this literary genre can be traced back to Antiquity, and the works of Aristotle, Plato, or Plutarch in ancient Greece or Seneca in Roman times would commonly be imitated in medieval times. Using some of these authors and adding early Christian traditions, different works on advice for rulers appeared in Europe and Byzantium from at least the 9th century, and the genre was consolidated at the end of the 10th and beginning of the 11th centuries.1

In the case of the Islamic world, these works generally include references to pre-Islamic kings, Greek and Hellenistic traditions and classic Islamic texts such as hadiths and the Quran.2 Deborah Tor has recently demonstrated that there seems to have been no incongruity, in the eyes of pious medieval Muslims, in incorporating different aspects of pre-Islamic Iranian traditions of kingship into their work; this was rather perceived as complementary to the Islamic understanding of rulership.3 Often, a sense of realpolitik can be clearly distinguished in the selection of topics covered by these works.4 The influence of a Persian bureaucratic tradition in the structure of Islamic states since the late Umayyad period pervades this type of literature. In addition to this political character, mirrors for princes in the Islamic world became a genre that acquired popularity and prestige for its literary style and historiographical value.5 The animal fables contained in *Kalila wa Dimna*, an Arabic translation/ adaptation made by Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ (d. *c*. 756) of the Indian work known as *Panchatantra*, is considered as the initial example of advice literature.6 Yet this

> DOI: 10.4324/9781351025782-5 This chapter has been made available under a CC BY 4.0 licence.

literary genre became popularised in the Islamic lands in the Persian language at the time when this language was undergoing a period of literary revival in Khurasan during the second half of the 11th century. It is in this period when fundamental works in this genre appear written in Persian prose, such as the *Qabusnama* (also *Nasihatnama*),7 the *Siyar al-muluk* (*Siyasatnama)* ascribed to Nizam al-Mulk (1018–92), or the *Nasihat al-muluk* attributed to Ghazali (d. 1111), among others.8 As suggested by Bosworth, the appearance of all these works in the Khurasan area in the space of four decades can hardly be a coincidence and possibly signals a shift in the balance of power in the Islamic world towards the east, marked by the rise of the Great Seljuq Turks from the 11th century onwards.9

In the 13th century, during the Ilkhanid period, advice literature gained even further popularity. Although popular also in Arabophone territories such as Ayyubid Syria, the phenomenon has been interpreted as a reflection of the acculturation of both Mongols and Turks to the cultural ethos of their Persianised subjects.10 Yet despite the fact that there was certainly a process of Persianisation of the Mongol rulers, the majority of these texts were dedicated to local rulers subject to the Ilkhans in Anatolia, Iraq and southern Iran.11 Particularly in Anatolia, a significant number of mirrors for princes were produced in the first half of the 13th century and dedicated to the Seljuq sultans of Rum before the Mongol invasion.12 In this period, advice literature shared some common features such as having the *Nasihat al-muluk*, often attributed to Ghazali, as the main reference work, or being composed by little-known scholars and courtiers. However, the Mongol invasion transformed not only Seljuq politics but also its intellectual culture, affecting also the composition of advice literature in post-Mongol Anatolia. In the second half of the 13th century, works such as the *Lataʾif al-hikma* of Siraj al-Din Urmawi (d. 1283), dedicated to Sultan ʿIzz al-Din Kaykaʾus II (d. 1280), would influence the production of subsequent works in the mirror for princes genre, including the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, dedicated to the Chobanid ruler of Kastamonu.13 Incidentally, Qutb al-Din Shirazi, who also dedicated a work or the Chobanids, borrowed substantially from the *Lataʾif al-hikma* for the composition of his *Durrat al-Taj*. 14

As we saw in Chapter 3, the inclusion of a copy in Persian of the *Nasihat al-muluk* in a *majmūʿa* composed in the Kastamonu region in the early 14th century attests to the influence that this work still had in the literary production of north-western Anatolia. The *Fustat al-ʿadala*, dedicated to Muzaffar al-Din Masʿud b. Alp Yürek and composed in 1284–85, is based not on the *Nasihat al-muluk* but on another of the classic Persian advice literatures of the 11th century, the *Siyar al-muluk* (*Siyasatnama*) (see Chapter 3). This chapter will briefly introduce the *Siyar al-muluk*, the questions about its authenticity, the dissemination of the work and the influence it had on medieval Persian literature. After this introduction, this chapter will look at the adaptations made in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* to the original text by looking at the arrangement of contents and chapter omissions in the Chobanid text vis-à-vis the original work. There follows an analysis of the additions made by the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* to his rendition of the *Siyar al-muluk* and what these additions might tell us about the particularities of the religious, political and social history of north-western Anatolia in the second half of the 13th century.

### **4.1 The** *Siyar al-muluk (Siyasatnama)*

The *Siyasatnama* or, as it was known in medieval times, *Siyar al-muluk* has been generally attributed to the famous Seljuq vizier Nizam al-Mulk (1018–92). He was born in the village of Radkan near the Khurasanian city of Tus to a family of officials in the service of the Ghaznavid dynasty (977– 1163).15 He is mentioned as having studied in Nishapur with the famous Shafiʿi scholar Hibat Allah al-Muwaffaq before he was forced to flee the region with his father after the Great Seljuqs removed the Ghaznavids from the area in 1040.16 Finding his first job in the Ghaznavid court just a few years later, he spent some time in the Khurasanian cities of Balkh and Marv before returning to the Seljuq court, where he quickly climbed the political ladder of Seljuq administration to become the main political advisor first in the court of Sultan Alp Arslan (r. 1063–72) and later in that of his son and successor Malik Shah (r. 1072–92).17 According to the preface of the work, it was at the request of the former that Nizam al-Mulk set out to write this work as a manual for government, administration and behaviour that, in fifty chapters, enumerates different virtues and practices to be used by rulers, kings, or emperors.18

There are several dates proposed for the compilation of the *Siyar al-muluk*, with the latest one being AH 500 (1107) if we question the ascription of the text to Nizam al-Mulk (d. 1092).19 The standard version consists of fifty chapters in which a variety of historical anecdotes are organised thematically for the ruler on different aspects of the arts of government. The text is a good source for the political history of its own time because it contains various attacks on the author's political rivals inside the court, such as Terken Khatun, the wife of Sultan Malik Shah.20 Further, the book is not only a manual of administration but also represents the magnanimous power that the institution of the vizierate achieved in the hands of Nizam al-Mulk, reaching unprecedented influence in the administration of the Seljuq Empire.21 More recently, it has been suggested that the book might have served a more prosaic purpose. According to Khismatulin, the work could also be seen as both a motivation letter and a job description in which the author exposed his ideas about ruling and how it should be done, but with the very clear goal of securing a position in the administration of the Seljuq Empire. Khismatulin observes that there is a similar intention in other mirrors for princes, such as the *Rahat al-sudur* of Ravandi, which may constitute a separate genre of administrative literature22 that follows a particular pattern in its composition and that was used to apply for a position at the Seljuqs' court.23 As we will see, a similar argument could be made for the Chobanid adaptation included in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* explored below.

### 118 *A mirror for princes for the Chobanids*

The textual history of the *Siyar al-muluk* is complex and elusive.24 When looking at different pre-modern manuscript versions of the work, it is apparent that they have significant differences from one another. It seems two main versions or redactions of the text exist: one made by a copyist named Muhammad Maghribi with an afterword on behalf of Nizam al-Mulk and a qasida appended to the main text. The other was made by an unknown medieval editor without the afterword and the appended qasida (see below).25 In recent years, this variation in the work's contents has raised suspicions about the originality of the text and even the attribution of the composition of the work to Nizam al-Mulk.26 Khismatulin has suggested that the Persian vizier probably only wrote a *muwduʿāt*, which is a short work agreement providing a description of official duties. Although his argument is not universally accepted because it does not explain the clear references to events in the life of Nizam al-Mulk in this section of the work, Khismatulin suggests that the agreement was later edited and commented on by other people and attributed to the famous vizier to provide legitimacy and authority to the text.27

The text in both versions became immensely popular in medieval times, influencing other advice literature in the Middle East, and was seen as a reference work for court literature in the Islamic world.28 Together with the other classic Persian mirrors for princes mentioned above, the *Siyar al-muluk* played an important role in the development of political thought in the pre-modern Islamic world that would reach its peak with scholars such as Nasir al-Din Tusi (d. 1273) or Ibn Khaldun (d. 1406).29 A number of the text's editions and translations have also been produced in modern times, with the most popular version in English being Darke's translation based on the Nakhjavani manuscript, copied in 673/1274 in Tabriz and representing the second version of the text.30 Darke's translation came after an early Persian edition of the first version of the text and a translation in French done by Charles Schefer in the late 19th century, which helped to popularise the text among European scholars in the 20th century.31 Finally, the book has been edited and published in Iran several times, with editions by Abbas Iqbal and Alexey Khismatulin being taken in the following section of this chapter as one of the references for comparison of the text's adaptation appearing in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*. 32

Despite their popularity in Iran, mirrors for princes in general, and the *Siyar al-muluk* in particular, seem to have had a much narrower readership in medieval Anatolia.33 In this context, the appearance of one of the text's two main versions ascribed to Nizam al-Mulk in the composition of a work dedicated to a local ruler of Kastamonu in the late 13th century is an interesting literary phenomenon that deserves special attention. How much of the original text was transmitted and how faithful the transmission was is relevant to understand not only the author's intentions of the author but also the potential literary taste of the work's patrons. The tailoring of its structure, the addition of specific elements and the removal of sections of the original text suggest a proper manufacturing of this work that goes beyond a simple transmission of a classical Persian text.

### **4.2 The** *Fustat al-ʿadala* **and the** *Siyar al-muluk***: Comparing chapters and structure**

The *Fustat al-ʿadala* is a unique work from the point of view of its contents and the singularity of the themes it covers. The only surviving manuscript of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* has two parts which were reversed from the text's original order.34 The work is divided in five chapters (*bāb*), each of which contains different sections (*faṣl*; pl. *fuṣūl*). Perhaps because of the uniqueness of the information contained in the first part of the work, scholars have omitted or disregarded the rest of the work as being simply a transliteration of the *Siyar al-muluk* with little historical relevance.35 While the text has been used on different occasions as a source for the Anatolia's religious history and the early development of antinomian Sufi movements in the region, it has never been analysed as a source for the political history of medieval Anatolia.

The second part of the manuscript, Supplement Turc 1120, which is in fact the first chapter of the work, occupies 45 folios and it contains mainly sections of the *Siyar al-muluk*. Yet, when one looks closely at the text, a number of features rapidly emerge that clearly suggest that this part cannot be easily labelled as a mere transcription of the other work, but is instead a more complex literary endeavour. A quick survey of the contents suggests that about 75 per cent of the text seems to have been taken from the *Siyar al-muluk*, but that it also introduces changes, as described below. Something in the area of 15 per cent of the text can be considered new stories, with only about 10 per cent or less of the remaining text totally unchanged from the original.36 Out of the five chapters of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, two chapters (*bāb* 1, ff. 73–118) and *bāb* 4, ff. 27–50) contain borrowings from the *Siyar al-muluk.*<sup>37</sup>

It has been pointed out by both Louise Marlow and Andrew Peacock that mirrors for princes can tell us something about the court in which they were composed.38 From this point of view, this particular literary genre can offer a unique insight into court life, helping us to uncover aspects of the political ideas, aspirations and representations of the Chobanid court that patronised the composition of this work. In the case of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, one of the main problems in situating and contextualising the work lies in the fact that the early part of the work, and consequently the preface, is missing. This is where any information on the context of the text's production could be found.39 This poses a problem, as we lack a description of the author's original intentions in composing this work. However, by comparing the surviving section of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* with various editions of the original text of the *Siyar al-muluk*, it is possible to reconstruct, even if only partially, the original contents of the work. Further, by looking at these omissions from the more standard version of the text, it is possible to suggest some of the author's intentions and uncover part of the agency of a text that, as has been suggested by Marlow, was generally produced to obtain a financial reward for their writing or to attain a high position at court – in this case, from the Chobanid ruler of Kastamonu.40

### 120 *A mirror for princes for the Chobanids*

As mentioned in Chapter 3, the two parts that divide the manuscript of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* have been reversed in the only existing manuscript of the work. The colophon of the text appears in folio 69a followed by a qasida poem that is left unfinished.41 The majority of European and modern editions do not include the poem in their editions and translations. This is because these scholars have often interpreted the fact that the colophons of the manuscripts used in their editions precede the poem as clear evidence of the poem being a later addition to the work.42 However, in his recent edition of the text in Russian, Khismatulin argues that the qasida was already present in the 12th-century version of the work that was originally used to copy the two manuscripts, which became the source for modern translators of the text.43 In fact, the inclusion of the qasida in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* (composed in 1284–85) supports Khismatulin's argument and suggests that the qasida was already present in the 12th-century version of the *Siyar al-muluk* used by the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* to compose his work. Further, the poem in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* is also located after the colophon, which suggests that placing the colophon before the poem could have been a common arrangement of the medieval rendition of the *Siyar al-muluk* and disproves the argument of the poem as a much later addition. Overall, the inclusion of the qasida as the closing element in the composition of the text also adds to the view that the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* was using the *Siyar al-muluk* as a template to produce a new text that he could present to his patron in Kastamonu.

Possibly unaware of its textual history, Muzaffar al-Din Choban would look at the *Fustat al-ʿadala* as if this was a new composition especially crafted for him. Nowhere in the surviving text is it mentioned that the *Siyar al-muluk* is being used as a source for the work. In fact, it makes sense to think about this as an intentional omission by the author, with the objective of receiving full credit from the patron for the composition of the book and/or increasing the author's prestige in the eyes of the ruler. The author's motivations in the composition of this work were not centred on transmitting or preserving a version of the *Siyar al-muluk*, but rather to convince his patron of his own literary skills and capabilities.

The grammar used in the text is simplified with regard to the already simple *Siyar al-muluk*. The author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* modifies some of the sentences from the original text, even changing very simple auxiliary verbs used in the *Siyar al-muluk*. The style of the text becomes more 'spoken', since the author in most cases omits the conjunction 'wa' between sentences or synonyms that grammatically require this word. The lexicon and formulation of the text are also altered when the author of the new work seems to have revised the original *Siyar al-muluk* sentence by sentence to insert synonyms, or reformulated the order of words and sentences.44 The reasons for this could be, firstly, an attempt to make the meaning of the text more accessible to his audience in northern Anatolia, whose exposure to classical Persian might have been limited. On the other hand, this modification of the language might be an attempt to further hide the original text from the eyes of his readers and, in this way, avoid being accused of plagiarism and thus be able to claim authorship of this work.45 In addition, the author selects specific chapters from the *Siyar al-muluk* and adds short stories and anecdotes from other sources, to present this work not only as an original composition, but also as proof of his value as a man of letters. In different places in the text, the author makes references to his wiliness and his availability to take up a position at the court. For example, the author makes explicit statements of his own at the end or the beginning of the stories presented in the work, emphasising that kings need to grant positions (*makān*) and offices (*maqām*) to those among scholars (ulama), men of grace (*fażl*) and religion (*dīndār*) and those that are devoted (*zuhd*) and who fear God (*taqwā*).46

Further evidence that the changes were made intentionally for the purpose of adapting an existing work to a new context can be found in some of the specific modifications made by the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* to the qasida that closes the original version.47 Table 4.1 shows how the poem was copied to be almost identical to the original but with some specific lines (*bayt*s) modified to obscure the text's origin. The *bayt*s including the name of Nizam al-Mulk in the original rendition of the qasida are removed and the dedication of the work made originally to the Seljuq sultan Ghiyath al-Din Muhammad b. Malik Shah (r. 1105–18) is replaced with the name of Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek, the work's Chobanid patron.48

In addition to the change in the name of the work's dedicatee, other variations in the qasida are worth mentioning. Firstly, there is a clear awareness of the author of the *Fustat* about titles used by the local rulers of Kastamonu. In the poem, wherever the original poem had the word shah (emperor), it is replaced with the title word (a)mir (ruler/governor) – more appropriate to the rank of members of the Chobanid dynasty, as we saw in Chapter 2. Further, there is an effort in using the formula of the original qasida in *bayt* 23 to reinforce Muzaffar al-Din's dynastic claim to the amirate of Kastamonu, used to legitimise his position as ruler by stating a clear hereditary dynastic connection with his grandfather Husam al-Din Choban (see Chapter 2).

Among different editions of the *Siyar al-muluk*, there is not a standard textual arrangement. While Darke and Schefer arrange the text in fifty chapters, Köymen's Turkish edition does not include all the chapters of the other two.49 The *Fustat al-ʿadala* makes its own arrangement of the sections (*fuṣūl*) borrowed from the *Siyar al-muluk* (ff. 73–118).50 The text in the initial section (73a–77a) in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* corresponds to the contents of chapter XIII of Darke's version of the *Siyar al-muluk*. From the numbering given to the sections in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, we can deduct that the initial section that has the beginning missing was section XII in the complete text. Hence, there is an almost exact correlation of section (*faṣl*) number and contents at the beginning of the text, suggesting that the missing initial part of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* may also have included the initial chapters of the standard *Siyar al-muluk*. It

*Table 4.1* Comparison of dedication in the final qasida of the *Siyar al-muluk* and the *Fustat al-ʿadala*


is at the end of this initial section (f. 77b) when we have the first titles written in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*. The text reads that this is section XIII, entitled 'On kings' boon companions and their manners',51 which corresponds to section XVII in the standard version of the *Siyar al-muluk*. From here onwards, the numbering of the sections stop matching but it is interesting to note that with the exception of the insertion of section XVII (*Siyar al-muluk* XL), the progression of sections and themes of the standard version of the *Siyar al-muluk* is mostly maintained in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*. That means that all the sections that survived in the part bound second in the Anatolian manuscript cover only those sections located between chapters XIII and XLII of *Siyar al-muluk*. 52

The themes of the sections (*fuṣūl*) from the original work included in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* are not selected randomly. When they are considered together, they reveal an inner coherence marked by a concern for aspects of the organisation of the court officials and agents. Firstly, some sections deal with the specific duties of some courtly agents, such as spies (section XII), boon companions (section XIII), experienced advisors (section XIV), ambassadors (section XV) and servants (section XVI). Secondly, slaves seem to be one of the text's main concerns since a group of sections deal with the appropriate measures that need to be taken to deal with slaves in the court (sections XVI and XIX), and provide instructions on how to serve a king in this regard (section XVIII). After these *fuṣūl*, the last few sections incorporated from the *Siyar al-muluk* are more concerned with the role of the king himself in dealing with his officials by advising him not to take hasty decisions (section XX), on having a clear knowledge of the titles and ranks of agents (section XXI) and on preventing assigning the same job to two different people (section XXII). It is important to highlight that all these sections belong to the first part of the *Siyar al-muluk*, which is believed to have been written by Nizam al-Mulk himself, and offer less doubts about authenticity than the second part.

However, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* includes one section (section XVII) from the last eleven of the *Siyar al-muluk* in this part of the work that were added to the original work after the assassination of the Persian vizier and that are imbued with a sense of pessimism over the challenge that Ismailism posed to the Seljuq court.53 This specific section corresponds to chapter XL in the standard version of the *Siyar al-muluk*, dealing with 'showing mercy for the creatures of God and the acts of bringing back the law and customs to its place'.54 The remaining sections originally added to the *Siyar al-muluk* after the assassination of Nizam al-Mulk are inserted in the second part of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, bound at the beginning of Ms. Supplement Turc 1120.55 This group of sections (corresponding to sections XLII–XLVII of the *Siyar al-muluk*) are grouped in chapter (*bāb*) 4 of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* and deal with the rise of different heretic groups such as Qaramatians, Mazdakis, Batinis, Khurramites and others.

Considered together, the order of the chapters in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* allows a few preliminary interpretations. The bulk of the sections included in the initial part of the work (second part of the manuscript) show a concern with providing the reader with elements to set up a court in accordance with Nizam al-Mulk's ideal view of an Islamic state. The context in which the *Fustat al-ʿadala* is produced – that is, in the early 1280s – means that the themes of these chapters are of a piece with the type of literature produced by, for example, Husam al-Din Khuʾi in this period for the same Chobanid leaders (see Chapter 6). Further, it is interesting to note the specific concern of the *Fustat*'s author to include sections related to slavery. The slave trade was active in Anatolia from the 13th century, with an intensive traffic of people from a variety of ethnic origins and religious affiliations, both genders and all ages.56 The Mongol presence in the Crimea and the Russian steppes and the conquest of Anatolia by Baiju in 1243 opened the region to an extensive trading network in the Black Sea that made the Anatolian Peninsula a strategic location for the lucrative slave trade between western Europe and the Russian steppes.57 We have no specific study on slavery in the Kastamonu region in the 13th century, but research has shown that both Sinop and Kastamonu (both regions under Chobanid influence) were important in the trade routes of slaves from the Black Sea to Europe in the 14th and especially 15th centuries.58 In addition, residents of Kastamonu were enslaved and sold to Christian traders even in the early 14th century, suggesting that this borderland region might have been an active area of slave capture.59 The extensive references to slavery in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* might be interpreted as a result of the need to deal with a possible large influx of slaves in the Chobanid court, precipitated by their conquests over Christian populations in the 13th century and the strategic location of their territories on the long-range slave trade routes between the Golden Horde and Italian merchants in the second half of the 13th century.

Finally, it needs to be mentioned that a group of sections included at the end of the *Siyar al-muluk*'s standard editions and translations are also reorganised in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*. In his translation of the *Siyar al-muluk*, Hubert Darke noticed that there was a change of tone in the topics covered in the text from sections XL onwards. He suggests that this is due to the later composition of these sections and to the fact that they were not seen by Malik Shah and were only added to the previous sections by a librarian after the death of the author.60 The majority of these sections are grouped in *bāb* 4 of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* and inserted in between *bāb* 3 and *bāb* 5 that do not belong to the *Siyar al-muluk*. 61 This is clearly an editorial decision by the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, who was motivated by a need to contextualise the emergence and spread of the Qalandars in his own time (described in *bāb* 5), and so takes a number of sections from the *Siyar al-muluk* and presents them as an original chapter of his own authorship.

### **4.3 Tailoring the** *Siyar al-muluk***: Added and omitted sections in the** *Fustat al-ʿadala*

In the same way that the inclusion of certain sections of the *Siyar al-muluk* unveils the agency of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, the omission of certain parts of the original work offers room for analysis. If we agree that the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* makes a conscious decision when including sections of the *Siyar almuluk*, then the omissions might also have been intentional. Between the initial two sections included in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, there is an omission of a section detailing the duties of 'courtiers' (section XIV in the *Siyar al-muluk*), another 'on being careful about messages in drunkenness and sobriety' (section XV) and finally one 'on the use of stewards at the court' (section XVI). Similarly, while sections XIV and XV in the *Fustat* are based on *Siyar al-muluk*'s sections XVIII and XXI respectively, it omits sections XIX and XX from the original work, which correspond to one section dealing with kings' guards or 'solitaries' (*mufradān*) (section XIX), their equipment, and on the provision and use of jewelled weapons (section XX).

Another part of the *Siyar al-muluk* including five sections (XXII–XXVI inclusive) is omitted. These sections could be seen as rather tedious for a reader who is looking for amusement in reading the *Siyar al-muluk*. They deal with subjects such as keeping fodder for animals ready in posting houses (XXII), troops' salaries (XXIII), bringing soldiers from different races into the army (XXIV), taking hostages in the court (XXV) and keeping Turkmen in the service of the court as pages (XXVI). All these chapters share the characteristics of being not only short in length, but also containing details that seems rather irrelevant or even offensive (section XXVI) to the Turkmen dynasty to which the *Fustat al-ʿadala* is dedicated. After the insertion of section XXVII (see below), the group of sections between XXVIII and XXXIV and XXXVIII– XXXIX are left aside. Like the previous group, they seem to have little to do with the Chobanid dynasty of Kastamonu, as they deal more with protocol or etiquette in affairs of state and have little practical advice for the rulers or interesting anecdotes to share.

In my view, both the inclusion and the exclusion of these sections share a coherent rationale when placing the *Fustat al-ʿadala* in the historical context in which the text was produced. Although by the 1280s the Chobanids were already established as regional rulers in Kastamonu, the official legitimation of their rule came with the acknowledgement of Ilkhan Arghun of Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek as *sipahsālār* of the region in 1284. The composition of this version of the *Siyar al-muluk*, being almost contemporary with this event, cannot but look like a premeditated act by which a copy of the most famous mirror for princes in the Persian tradition is tailored for the newly named ruler of Kastamonu. The work's author seems to be very aware of his patron's cultural and religious background. The omissions from the original text intentionally exclude those issues that might be less appealing to a local Turkmen lord at the far western corner of an empire. The *Fustat al-ʿadala* leaves out sections of the *Siyar al-muluk* that deal with imperial court matters, financial issues such as disposition of salaries, the organisation of military equipment for the army, or detailed instructions on the organisation of a court that could not be easily extrapolate from the court of the Great Seljuqs into the incipient Chobanid court. Similarly, some sections that could even offend Muzaffar al-Din are left out, such as section XXVI on keeping Turkmen as pages, although some that could have been useful for a ruler controlling a sedentary rural population were omitted, such as section XXXVII that deals mostly with the status of peasants. Finally, the inclusion of certain sections mentioned above proves to have both a potential applicability in the arts of government for the Chobanid court and a special concern for the moral background of the anecdotes contained in the work. Islamic morality, as we will see in the next section, is also a special concern of the author, who tries to adapt the text to provide a more up-to-date religious content suitable for the Chobanid court in the midst of the process of Islamisation.

Special mention should be made of the inclusion of a full section that, although the title can be equated with section XVIII of the original *Siyar al-muluk*, has clearly been modified by relying on other sources. Section XIV of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* is titled 'On consulting on the king's concerns', but although the theme of the section corresponds to the kind of title that can be found in many mirrors for princes, the contents of this chapter are very different in nature from the rest of the narrative. This short section (ff. 80b– 81b) contains a number of poems in Persian and Arabic and two anecdotes. While the verses try to emphasise to the king the importance of having reliable advisors, the prose stories offer a different perspective to the *Siyar almuluk*. The first anecdote is set up in the context of the early years of Islam. A man brings his wife to the presence of the caliph ʿUmar b. al-Khattab (d. 644), claiming that he has been with this woman for only six months and now she has given birth to a boy. The woman swears that the boy belongs to her husband and that she has never been with another man. Yet ʿUmar orders for her to be lapidated or stoned to death (*sangsār kardan*) for adultery because a pregnancy should last nine months. While she is being taken to the execution site, they come across the Prophet's son-in-law ʿAli b. Abi Talib (d. 661), who asks about the case and orders the executioners to return the woman to ʿUmar's chamber. In front of the caliph, ʿAli claims that the baby is the son of the woman's husband and hence the woman was telling the truth. ʿUmar asks how he knows, and ʿAli responds by quoting a verse of the Quran that states that a pregnancy lasts for 30 months when the 24 months of breastfeeding are included.62 In this way, ʿAli would have proved that there can be a six-month pregnancy and therefore saved the life of the faithful woman wrongly accused of adultery. The story also mentions that ʿUmar acknowledged his mistake and said that if it was not for ʿAli, ʿUmar would have perished (been ruined).

The story is well known in the Islamic world and is documented in numerous sources from both the Shia and the Sunni traditions.63 The quote has been highly controversial, as it has been interpreted by Sunnis as a simple statement of ʿAli being an advisor of Caliph ʿUmar and by Shias as proof of the higher knowledge of ʿAli about the Quran. The *Fustat al-ʿadala* makes no claim on the superior knowledge of ʿAli over ʿUmar, but includes the story as illustrative of an event in which wise advice saved the prestige of the ruler (ʿUmar). Hence, it would be risky to interpret the inclusion of this anecdote in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* as a Shia statement. However, within Sunni legal tradition, the story also appears in a number of Shafiʿi texts and was used widely among Shafiʿi authors in medieval times.64 Therefore, the intention of the story might be not to transmit Shia ideas to the author's patron, but only to incorporate an anecdote with similar connotations from the perspective of advice, but coming from the Islamic tradition. In this context, the proximity of the *Fustat*'s author to Shafiʿi ideas makes it possible that the selection of this story might have been taken from literature familiar to the author and incorporated into the work.65

The other story included in the section also has a caliph and an advisor as main characters, but in this case the plot is set in the early years of the Abbasid caliphate. The story deals with Caliph al-Mansur (d. 775) and his commander Abu Muslim (d. 755), both of whom also appear in the *Siyar al-muluk*. 66 The story of Abu Muslim, a freed slave who became the victorious commander of the early Abbasid armies that rebelled against the Umayyad caliphs and then became a dangerous alternative power in Central Asia and Khurasan in the eyes of the new caliph al-Mansur, is well known in early Islamic historiography.67 However, despite sharing the main characters, the stories are different. While the *Siyar al-muluk* makes reference to the two characters to speak about the rise of heresy in Khurasan,68 the *Fustat* focuses on the execution of Abu Muslim by the caliph. As in the other anecdote contained in this section, the story's main aspect is the role of the advisors. The story focuses on how, following the advice of his officials, al-Mansur managed to bring Abu Muslim from the east to Baghdad, where he was advised to execute him – an act that the caliph allegedly performed there on the spot.69 No references are made to the heretical movements that Abu Muslim apparently inspired in the eastern territories of the Abbasid caliphate, pointing towards the use of a source different from the *Siyar al-muluk* in the composition of this chapter of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*.

The inclusion of this new section in the work appears as a logical continuation of the previous ones. The section is also coherently constructed to continue with the tone of a mirror for princes and highlights the importance that advisors have in the decisions of the king, by using both prose anecdotes and verses in both Arabic and Persian. However, the sources used here are not the *Siyar al-muluk*, but stories brought from hadiths and the Islamic tradition. As we will see below, many of the additions to the *Siyar al-muluk* share with this section the Islamic background of the stories, as if the author of the *Fustat* was trying to match the advice given by the *Siyar al-muluk* with examples appearing in other Islamic sources with higher religious pedigree. The addition of this section is a clear indication of the direct intervention of the *Fustat*'s author in the composition of the text, as is the selections he made for the chapter arrangement, in terms of chapters included and omitted.

### **4.4 The making of a mirror for princes for Chobanid Kastamonu I: Religious references in the** *Fustat al-ʿadala*

In recent years, Marlow has suggested that medieval mirrors for princes can be categorised into two different groups. The first one includes those with a more 'secular' tone, appealing to traditional Iranian conceptions of kingship that include especially Sasanian and pre-Islamic reference models. The second one is defined as being more 'religiously charged', where the role of prophets and the ulama become more apparent in the narrative.70 Based on this paradigm, the first part of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* where the majority of the *Siyar al-muluk* is copied (ff. 73–118) would mostly fall into the first category, since the latter has a rather secular approach to kingship and enhances the role of secular rulers above that of the religious establishment. However, when this particular section is placed in the context of the whole work, the emphasis between the secular and the religious becomes more balanced and the categorisation of the work within this duality might not be that straightforward. As mentioned above, *bāb* 5 of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* includes those sections of the *Siyar al-muluk* dealing with religious heresies, and the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* often includes references to and anecdotes regarding Islamic traditions, the Quran and hadiths in different sections extracted from the *Siyar al-muluk*. Consequently, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* has an important religious component both in adapting the contents of sections copied from the *Siyar al-muluk* (ff. 73–118 and *bāb* 4), and when the author adds new content dealing with criticism of antinomian Sufis (Qalandars) and his claim of a complementarity between Shafiʿi and Hanafi legal traditions.71

Although based on a mirror for princes such as the *Siyar al-muluk*, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* is also an administrative text used by the author to seek the ruler's favour and a job at the court. The contents of the book, therefore, would be influenced not only by the taste of the ruler but also by characteristics of the position applied for and the background of the author.72 In view of this, the inclusion in the narrative of personalities and anecdotes with a relevant religious background suggests that the author of the *Fustat* might have been seeking a position with religious responsibilities in the Chobanid court. Offering religious advice to the rulers highlights an intention to add a religious component to the *Fustat* that is lacking in the original *Siyar al-muluk*.

One of these cases appears in section XIII of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*. The section begins with an anecdote that not only is unavailable in any edited version of the *Siyar al-muluk* but also appears to come from another source that has probably been lost. In the context of a section about boon companions (XVII) of the king, the author of the text inserts a story that firstly introduces a person called Kiyaharas, who is described as a knowledgeable scholar in science and religion, who was originally from the region of Tabaristan but has gained his knowledge in the region of Khurasan.73 During his travels, he meets some dignitaries from the court of the caliph in Baghdad, whose name is not given and, amazed by his knowledge, these officers bring Kiyaharas into the caliph's presence. After confronting Kiyaharas with a number of tests in the court, they all surrender to his knowledge, and the caliph compels him to join the court as boon companion (*nadīm*) of the leader of Sunni Islam. After a decade has passed, a messenger from Samarqand arrives in Baghdad. He is an eminent scholar who asks permission to have the honour of engaging in philosophical/religious discussion at the caliph's palace. Permission is granted and all the major scholars of Baghdad gather to listen to the Central Asian messenger. Kiyaharas sits next to the caliph as his main confidant (*nadīm*) and at some point asks for permission to engage in discussion with the Central Asian messenger and promises to put an end to the debate.74 Kiyaharas is granted permission, engages in the debate and comes out victorious, being awarded 7,000 dinars and expensive clothes by the caliph. Once he puts on the robes,

a mysterious voice comes through the trellis window (*shubbākāt*) ordering Kiyaharas 'to go to the Madrasa Nizamiyya' (*ilā Niẓāmiyya, ilā al-Madrasat al-Niẓāmiyya*).75 From that very moment, the caliph realises that he cannot hold on to his companion any longer and allows Kiyaharas to leave for the madrasa, where, according to the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, he becomes a follower of the teachings of Shafiʿi, abandoning his role at the caliphal court to pursue a full life as a religious scholar.

This short anecdote contains a number of interesting aspects that deserve our attention. The scholar mentioned only as Kiyaharas refers most likely to Shaykh ʿAli b. al-Hasan Kiyaharas al-Tabari (d. 1110), also known as al-Kiya al-Harrasi, a Shafiʿi jurist and Ashʿari theologian listed among some of the most famous scholars of Shafiʿi fiqh (Islamic law) with a special relevance to Quranic jurisprudence (*aḥkām al-Qurʾān*).76 At least one book of his authorship has survived until today and he was renowned for being one of the teachers in Islamic law in the Nizamiyya madrasa founded by the Seljuq vizier Nizam al-Mulk in Baghdad in 1065.77 Ibn al-Hasan Kiyaharas al-Tabari was initially appointed as chair of the institution by the vizier himself in AH 483 (1090–91) to be replaced by the famous scholar Ghazali (d. 1111) only 16 months later. When Ghazali left the institution in the year 487 AH (1094– 95), Kiyaharas al-Tabari was re-appointed as chair of the Nizamiyya madrasa until his death.78 The story of Kiyaharas (Kiya al-Harrasi), as included in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, is, therefore, plausible as far as the main characters and locations are concerned and it has a literary coherence in including this anecdote of a famous scholar in the madrasa founded by Nizam al-Mulk, to whom the *Siyar al-muluk* is attributed. However, the story is not historically accurate since none of the available Arabic or Persian sources confirm that Kiya al-Harrasi was ever at the service of a caliph. Instead, we know that he was invited to Baghdad by Majd al-Mulk al-Qummi (d. 492/1099), the vizier of Sultan Barqiyaruq b. Malik Shah (d. 498/1105), to serve as a qadi for at least two years (AH 490–92) at his court before being appointed as chief of the Nizamiyya.79

All these elements suggest that either the story was taken from another source that I was not able to identify, or it was constructed by the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* to incorporate some personal views in the narrative that he felt were lacking in the original *Siyar al-muluk*. For example, there seems to be a subtle but persistent emphasis on enhancing Shafiʿism in the anecdote. It might be mere speculation but I wonder if the narration of the religious debate between Kiya al-Harrasi and the Central Asian scholar could be read as a confrontation or argumentation between two different schools of law (*madhhab*). While the Shafiʿi credentials of Kiya al-Harrasi are established both by his origin (Tabaristan) and education, it is suggestive that the scholar who arrives in Baghdad to debate, and is subsequently defeated by Kiya al-Harrasi (Kiyaharas), is mentioned as being from Samarqand, a place which, although it had scholars from different schools of law, was generally considered mainly as a Hanafi territory.

### 130 *A mirror for princes for the Chobanids*

The *madhhab* to which the Central Asian scholar belonged is not mentioned in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, but the emphasis laid on the place of origin of both contenders (Tabaristan and Samarqand) and, especially, the exposition on both Shafiʿism and Hanafism made in *bāb* 5 of the text may suggest that the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* could be trying to portray the superiority of Shafiʿiism over Hanafism in this anecdote, represented by the Central Asian origin of Kiyaharas's dialectic rival.80 As the work is written for a Turkmen and possibly Hanafi patron in Kastamonu, the belief in the intellectual superiority of Shafiʿi scholars over Hanafi ones cannot be declared as an open statement. Therefore, the divine intervention of the voice that persuades the caliph to let Kiya al-Harrasi (Kiyaharas) go to Nizam al-Mulk's madrasa is used as a literary allegory of the divine preference for Shafiʿism, especially when it was well known that the Nizamiyya madrasa only accepted Shafiʿi scholars and students.81 However, what is less open to speculation is that the story had a more prosaic intention in the narrative of the *Fustat al-ʿadala.* As a work conceived as proof of the author's knowledge on a subject and credentials for acquiring positions at the court, the anecdote can also be read as a subtle but clear message to his patron, Muzaffar al-Din Choban. The inclusion in the narrative of this story's text, either created by the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* or taken from a source other than the *Siyar al-muluk*, aims to highlight how knowledge of Islamic law and religion could catapult the career of a scholar (namely, Kiyaharas) from the position of *nadīm* at the court to the leading scholar at the central Nizamiyya madrasa.

There is a clear concern in the additions made in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* to the original *Siyar al-muluk* text to raise the religious profile of the text and show the religious knowledge of the author by incorporating instructive anecdotes with religious content. In this respect, the story of Kiyaharas is not the only one that can be found in the text. For example, in section XVI (XXVII of the *Siyar al-muluk*), the majority of the text is retained, although abbreviated. The section in the original work contains a long account of the life of Sabuktegin (d. 997), founder of the Ghaznavid dynasty that ruled over eastern Iran, Afghanistan and northern India from the late 10th until the mid-12th century.82 Although the story of the ascension of Sabuktegin as narrated in the *Siyar al-muluk* should be taken with caution, the interest of the story in the context of mirrors for princes lies more in the legal status of the person than in the account's veracity.83 The main point of the story is to highlight the transition made by Sabuktegin from being a slave to becoming the founder of a new dynasty. Yet, towards the end of the chapter, Sabuktegin's son, Mahmud of Ghazna, is introduced to the reader as the ruler who would expand the empire created by his father. Based on the *Siyar al-muluk*'s reference to Mahmud's campaign to India, the *Fustat* makes the following statement:

And in India he [Mahmud] took Sūmāt84 (Somnath) and brought [from there] the [pagan idol] (*manāt*) and smashed (*bandākht*) it at the entrance (*āsitān*) of the congregational Mosque. He captured and killed many [pagan] kings of India and he seized (*basitad*) many places (*bisiyār wilāyat*) in India and converted them to Islam (*tā dār-i islām āvard*). And he [Mahmud of Ghazna] was the first king of Islam to be called 'Sultan'.85

Although the original *Siyar al-muluk* makes reference to the conquest of Somnath by Mahmud and the removal of the pagan idol from the temple, this reference is far less specific.86 On the other hand, the *Fustat* is not only more emphatic in its description of Mahmud breaking the Hindu idol, but it adds a specific reference to the spread of Islam by the Sultan of Ghazna. The addition seems to be a clear statement added by the author of the *Fustat* trying to highlight the sultan's role as an active agent of Islamisation. It seems to me that this particular phrase is a clear parallel made in the *Fustat* between what was done by Mahmud and what should be done in Anatolia at the time of the composition of the *Fustat.* As we will see in the next chapter, the *Fustat* has a clear concern with the spread of heresies in Anatolia and the anecdote about Mahmud of Ghazna offers a good opportunity to highlight the role of rulers in Islamising newly conquered territories. Hence, the added lines could be a clear message to the Chobanid patron of the work, who could see in the Islamisation of India a mirror of practices for the process of Islamisation taking place in western Anatolia in the late 13th century.

### **4.5 The making of a mirror for princes for Chobanid Kastamonu II: References to 13th-century Anatolia in the** *Fustat al-ʿadala*

Further evidence of the active intervention of the author in modelling the composition of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* using the *Siyar al-muluk* can also be observed in the insertion of section XL of the *Siyar al-muluk* into section XVII of the *Fustat al-ʿadala,* which interrupts the identical progression of sections between the two texts up to that point. This particular section accounts for a number of anecdotes in which different Muslim rulers made special acts of charity and were rewarded by God for their generosity to others, together with a unique anecdote in which a supposedly ancient ruler of Rum was particularly generous to scholars and religious leaders.87 At the centre of the plot in this added story there is a young prince, who succeeded his father to the throne of an unnamed kingdom to become a king of Rum. We are not provided with a name for either father or son, but are told only that the deceased king ruled peacefully for 60 years. When the new king was crowned, he was still very young and power was monopolised by his father's ministers. After a few years living in these circumstances, the young prince won the trust of his own servants (*ghulamān*), who eventually helped him to execute his father's ministers and take control of the kingdom. As a consequence, the new king freed his loyal servants and made them amirs of the kingdom.88 To close the story, the author states the pedagogical function of the anecdote. He advises the king to always ask advice from people who are knowledgeable

### 132 *A mirror for princes for the Chobanids*

about the past, to find out about the lifestyles of ancient kings, and familiarise himself with edicts and regulations used in the past. But, above all, the author makes a clear self-referential recommendation in which he advises the king to be generous to artists (*arbāb-i hunār*) and take into account the background and rank of each person at court to determine the appropriate economic provision (*kafāf*) they deserve.89

In addition, the author introduces a mention of the Prophet Muhammad, in whose times religious scholars (*ḥuffāẓ*),90 learned men (*sādāt*) and pious men (*parhzgār*) were highly valued and rewarded economically.91 Therefore, the author of the *Fustat* tries to complement, once again, the more secular view (looking at the actions of past kings, their edicts, etc.) with a religious counterpart that in this case is represented by taking an example from the time of the Prophet. In both settings, the importance of supporting, respecting and financing secular and religious learned men (like himself) is emphasised. This reference, it seems to me, places the *Fustat al-ʿadala* among those mirrors for princes described by Khismatulin that belonged to a genre that served not only to provide financial remuneration to the author but also served as written proof of his credentials in affairs of state to occupy a position in the administration of the kingdom.92

While sometimes the author of the *Fustat* makes additions, on other occasions the story is slightly modified from the original rendition of the *Siyar al-muluk* to emphasise a specific idea. An example of this type of textual intervention can be seen in section XX of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, where an anecdote is explained in the context of the court of the Seljuq sultan Alp Arslan (d. 1072). A case is presented to the sultan in which a courtier named ʿAbd al-Rahman Khal tries to steal the property of an old man by falsely accusing him of drinking at night and worshipping idols.93 The false accusation is dismissed when the sultan cleverly uncovers ʿAbd al-Rahman's lie and he is punished for lying. However, while in the *Siyar al-muluk* the story finishes with the confession of the accuser, in the *Fustat* the story is further developed to reinforce its pedagogical purpose. Hence, the former adds that after the liar has been uncovered, all the courtier's property was expropriated and given to the scholar as sign of respect from the sultan. Unsurprisingly, in a pious act, the wise scholar refuses to take the property of his accuser. This so impresses the sultan that he orders that expensive robes and 1,000 dinars be sent to the scholar from the royal treasury, and invites him to court where he treats him with affection.94 Hence, the anecdote, although present in the *Siyar al-muluk*, is modified to enhance the virtues of the religious scholar and the generosity of the sultan, which can once again be read as a self-reference from the author of the work trying to promote his patron's generosity.

In section XVII, as mentioned above, the author of the *Fustat* feels that he needs to not only add a more specific reference to the need to reward scholars, but he also makes an effort to give a religious reaffirmation to the main message in the story. In this case, a short story about the Prophet Muhammad is also added at the end of the chapter:

One day a group of people were sitting with the Prophet (peace be upon him), they asked him: 'O Messenger of God! Is it possible that a believer commit adultery (*zanā kardan*)?' He said: 'It might be possible!' They asked: 'Can [a believer] commit a robbery (*duzdī kardan*)?' He said: 'It might be possible!' They asked: 'Can [a believer] drink wine (*sharāb khūrdan*)?' He said: 'It happens'. Then they asked: 'Does a believer tell lies (*drūgh gūftan*)?' He answered: 'No!' The Prophet's companions asked him about the reason behind his reply. He referred them to Allah's words where He says: 'Those who forge lies aren't believers'. God the Glorious says: 'A liar doesn't believe in God and the Judgement Day'.95

The constant glorification of religious scholars and the need for the king to support them financially might be evidence not only of a genuine belief in the need for kings to support learned men for the benefit of the kingdom but also of some personal interest on the part of the author. As different scholars have suggested, many of the authors of mirrors for princes, especially when they were scholars themselves, would incorporate stories about the importance of patronage of religious sciences, expecting to obtain economic benefit from the king who is the addressee of the work.96 In the case of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, the evidence in other parts of the text suggests that the author might have been not only a religious scholar but perhaps a member of the ulama.97 Consequently, the author is actively intervening in the text not only to add religious justification to the more secular approach of the original *Siyar al-muluk*, but also seeking, through some of these anecdotes, to promote himself in the court or obtain greater economic benefit from his patron.

If one of the main effects of the additions made to the core text of the *Siyar al-muluk* is to enhance its religious pedigree, other added parts in the text are not religiously oriented, but make reference to political events and personalities relevant to the history of 13th-century Anatolia. For example, section XIV in the *Fustat* follows sections XVIII of the *Siyar al-muluk*. As the former paraphrases the latter on the importance of having reliable advisors at the court, the author suddenly mentions that this good custom has been maintained in Rum during the reigns of ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad I (r. 1220– 37) and ʿIzz al-Din Kaykaʾus II (1246–57) and in the Abbasid caliphate until the execution of Caliph al-Mustaʿsim by Hülegü in 1258.98 In addition, the text suggests that these practices emerged (*padīd āmadan*) with the arrival of the Mongols.99 However, the change in diplomatic practices brought by the Mongols is not described as a problem but rather as an improvement. The *Fustat* mentions that the Mongols had high regard for messengers (*rasūlān*) and since the Mongols' arrival, messengers were able to be dispatched from all corners of the world (*az aṭrāf-i ʿālam*). Further, it is noted that the hospitality (*nuzl*) for messengers improved under the Mongols, since there were always provisions in the kitchen of the *nuzl* such as halva made of walnuts and sweets, meat, bread, salt and garlic available for messengers, amirs, or court dignitaries who were travelling in the kingdom.100

### 134 *A mirror for princes for the Chobanids*

Apart from highlighting the improvement of infrastructure brought by the Mongols, it is interesting that the name of Ghiyath al-Din Kaykhusraw II (r. 1237–46), who ruled between the above-mentioned Seljuqs of Rum, is not mentioned by name in the *Fustat*, despite the fact that he was the one who was in office at the time of the Battle of Köse Dağ that gave control of Anatolia to the Mongols.101 The Mongol invasion of Anatolia and the defeat of the Seljuq ruler are both omitted from the narrative.102 As it was composed in 1284–85, when Masʿud II, son of Kaykaʾus II, began to rule over Anatolia with Mongol support, the omission of both the defeated grandfather of Masʿud and the Mongol invasion appears to be a way to avoid jeopardising the prestige of his patrons and to question the Seljuq loyalties to their Mongol overlords. A similar care in dealing with the Mongol invasion is shown in section XXI in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*. In this case, there is a specific mention of Sultan Muhammad II Khwarazmshah (d. 1220).103 In the section's opening lines, the following sentences are introduced:

Beware that the basis (*asās*) of previous kings were founded on solid and robust foundations (*bunyādī durust va muḥkam*) of kingdoms. And the rules and regulations (*qawāʿid va qānūn*) of government were followed as established by old kings. Until the reign of Muhammad II Khwarazmshah, whose kingdom fell in despair over the world [of Islam] and a new race (*qawm-i dīgar*) was born and the customs (*āyīn*) and faith (*kash*) were changed and this [despair] was spread to the other parts of the world.104

Hence, the *Fustat* holds the Sultan of Khwarazm responsible for the spread of the Mongols on the basis of his deviation from the customs and traditions of the Great Seljuqs. Levelling this accusation at Muhammad II is quite in keeping with the long enmity between the Seljuqs of Rum and the Khwarazmshah since the early 13th century, with both trying to portray themselves as continuations of the Seljuq Empire in the Islamic world. In this way, the author of the *Fustat* finds the perfect scapegoat in the Central Asian ruler to justify the Mongol invasion of the Middle East. He does not mention the defeat of the Seljuqs of Rum at Köse Dağ, and does not even blame the Mongols for their advance as other contemporary accounts do,105 but the responsibility rests upon Muhammad II, who abandoned the rules and regulations (*qawāʿid va qānūn*) of the Great Seljuqs to bring new races and faiths into the Islamic world. Simultaneously, however, the author not only puts the blame for the spread of the Mongols on an old enemy of the Seljuqs of Rum but avoids undermining the Mongols' legitimacy, who, after all, were the overlords of his patrons in Kastamonu.

Because we have no beginning or end of the text, we do not know if the author has warned the reader that the text is not a literal transcription of the *Siyar al-muluk*. But no specific efforts are made to highlight which chapters are taken from the original work and which were added from other sources. For that reason, it is apparent that the author did not present this work as a transcription of the *Siyar al-muluk*, but instead tried to present it as a new composition with the goal of obtaining monetary reward and perhaps a position in the court. This sort of rewriting was not uncommon among in the medieval Islamic World. Educated readers would have recognised such borrowings and a specific reference to th original author might have been redundant. However, would such a text be easily recognised by a Turkment ruler of Kastamonu? From the tailoring of the original work and the additions to the text, it seems that the author of the *Fustat* intended to go beyond being a mere copyist and aimed to introduce novel content to the text taken mostly from religious sources. It is also apparent that many additions to the text share an intention of adding to the original text a religious component. These additions generally refer to precepts in Islam, anecdotes of the Prophet Muhammad, praise for the ulama, or clear statements on the Islamisation of India. These newly incorporated elements make this work a hybrid between the 'secular' and 'religious' mirror for princes as categorised by Marlow. Also, these religiously oriented additions might be telling us something about the intention of the author to promote a religious orthodoxy among the Turkmen rulers of Kastamonu, while also trying to gain the favour of the rulers towards a religious class to which he possibly belonged. Although this is not evident at first glance, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* is simply an updated version of the *Siyar al-muluk* for a local Anatolian patron. It could be defined as belonging to the genre of administrative literature based on a mirror for princes that contains a strong element of traditional Iranian kingship, but incorporating elements of a religious character that possibly helped to promote its author in the court as a *khāṭib* (preacher), *muḥtasib* (supervisor of trade or accountant), qadi (judge), or a religious position, while proving his loyalty to his patron. All this without neglecting the important literary contribution of making the text more appealing to a dynasty on the frontier between Islam and Christianity.

#### **Notes**


*Future of Iran's Past: Nizam al-Mulk Remembered* (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), pp. 61–104. Information is also provided in the article on Nizam al-Mulk's 'nemesis' ʿAmid al-Mulk al-Khunduri by Carole Hillenbrand, 'The Life and Times of 'Amīd al-Mulk al-Khundurī', in Andrew C. S. Peacock and Deborah G. Tor (eds), *Medieval Central Asia and the Persianate World: Iranian Tradition and Islamic Civilisation* (London: I.B. Tauris, 2015), pp. 161–73.


discussion on the influence of mirrors for princes in the development of political thought in the Islamic world, see Charles-Henri de Fouchécour, *Moralia: les notions morales dans la litérature persane du 3e/9e au 7e/13e siècle* (Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations, 1986).


### 142 *A mirror for princes for the Chobanids*


## **5 Islam under the Chobanids** Between heresy and the ulama

The succession of Turkish invasions of Anatolia that began in the 11th century changed the political map of the peninsula forever. However, just as the Arab invasions did not wipe out Christianity from the Middle East in the 7th century, the Turks did not destroy Christianity in Anatolia.1 Although Islam would have cultural supremacy or a higher status provided by the fact that it was the religion of the ruling dynasty, which could have encouraged some people to convert to it, for a long time both religions coexisted, alternating between periods of conflict and peace. The presence of Christians in the area has generated debate among scholars. While Vryonis would portray a more conflictive interaction between religions after the Battle of Manzikert, others, such as Hasluck, have advocated for a more peaceful coexistence based on shared sacred places.2 However, modern approaches have also questioned this later view, suggesting a much more complex scenario in which conflict and coexistence depended on the context in which they took place.3

Nonetheless, there is agreement that by the second half of the 13th century, Islam had made its way deep into the peninsula because of its dominance among ruling elites and, although we do not have information about the numbers, Christians could have remained a numerical majority but mainly irrelevant in terms of political and cultural influence.4 Yet Islam in this borderland region was also far from homogeneous. Dichotomies between orthodoxy– heterodoxy, Sunni–Shia and a variation of mystical interpretations of Islam would mushroom across the peninsula from the 12th to the 16th century until the Ottoman Empire began a process of Sunni standardisation, which aimed to homogenise the Islamic diversity inherited from pre-Ottoman Anatolia.5

Since the beginning of the 20th century, scholars have suggested different explanations for the diversity of Islam in Anatolia. In Turkish academia, the dominating paradigm has been based mainly on the interpretations made by Mehmet Füat Köprülü who, based on 19th-century European modernist ideas, proposed a view of pre-Ottoman Anatolian Islam as fundamentally divided between 'high' and 'popular' religion. In this binary interpretation, the former was represented by members of the ulama, whose religiosity would be based in the development of classical Islamic institutions such as mosques or madrasas,

> DOI: 10.4324/9781351025782-6 This chapter has been made available under a CC BY 4.0 licence.

and supported by a Persian urban high culture of the Anatolian hinterland. The latter, by contrast, would be those religious classes attached to the rural and 'barbaric' territories, represented by ghazis and Turkish riders of the western frontier in Seljuq times, or the Balkans in the early Ottoman period. This dichotomy was also applied to particular interpretations of Islam. Sufism, in Köprülü's view, was divided between a conformist urban Sufi elite contrasted with an antinomian rural Sufism. A rigid division of Anatolian society between a 'high Persian–standard Sufi–urban' and a 'vernacular Persian–mendicant Sufism–rural' segment, as suggested by traditional Turkish scholars such as Köprülü or even, in a less schematic way, by I. Melinkof and A. Ocak more recently, is being revised nowadays and appears to be difficult to generalise.6 As we will see later in this chapter, the presence of mendicant dervishes has been documented as a well-established institution in urban settings, suggesting a less clear religious landscape for 13th-century Anatolia that cannot be simply explained as an urban–rural dichotomy.7

Although a strict binary approach to the topic does not fully stand the historical analysis, it creates a useful categorisation of some religiosities found in the region. The initially pagan Mongol overlordship of the Middle East in the second half of the 13th century and Anatolia's position as a borderland between Islam and Christianity seems to have facilitated the development of a variety of Islamic religiosities that competed and coexisted in this period. A more mainstream Sufism developed hand in hand with other forms of Sufism that included groups of dervishes and followers generally known as 'mendicant' or 'antinomian' Sufis. These people did not form a homogeneous group, and as Karamustafa has shown, different groups had different practices and a variety of beliefs, and targeted different sections of Islamic society.8 However, they all shared certain characteristics in the 13th century, such as a fiercely ascetic attitude to religion, a glorification of poverty and a tendency to question social and religious hierarchies. In addition, these mendicant groups, referred to generally as Qalandars, Haydaris, Shams-i Tabrizis and Jamis, spoke mostly vernacular Persian in the 13th century. Often, this linguistic characteristic has been interpreted as a reaction to the high Persian used by urban elite culture in 13th-century Anatolia, presenting themselves as representing the beliefs, frustrations and discontents of at least a part of the subaltern section of medieval Anatolian society. This point is further emphasised by the fact that, from the mid-14th century onwards, we begin to observe a growth in the use of Turkish, led by groups such as the Abdals of Rum, who also reacted to Persian urban mainstream Sufism by adding the Turkish language as an identity element of these subalterns in the 14th and 15th centuries.9

The appearance of antinomian Sufis in the Middle East was widely noticed, as was their conflictive encounter with the secular and religious authorities.10 For example, the Arab official Ibn Fuwati, who served under the Ilkhanid court in Baghdad, mentions an anecdote in which the Mongol ruler of Iran, Hülegü (d. 1260), encountered a group of Qalandars while in the company of his advisor Nasir al-Din Tusi (d. 1273), during a visit to the region of

Harran.11 Fuwati mentions that, surprised by the appearance of these people, the Mongol ruler asked his advisor who they were, to which Tusi replied that they were an 'excess of this world', after which Hülegü ordered their execution.12 The contrast between a mainstream and a subaltern Islam also becomes apparent in the territories of the Chobanid dynasty in the 13th century. The concern regarding mendicant dervishes is reflected in the description given of one of these groups (Qalandars) in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, where the author of the work makes an effort to highlight to the Turkmen ruler the growing danger that these groups pose for the stability of the realm and the faith of its subjects. In trying to uncover aspects of the religious life in western Anatolia under the Chobanid dynasty, this chapter looks at a number of religious aspects reflected in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, one of the most significant works produced under Chobanid patronage.13

The first part of this chapter explores a section of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* dedicated to providing its patron (Muzaffar al-Din Choban) with a description of the practices and beliefs of a group of antinomian Sufis that had been expanding in Anatolia in the 13th century. This unique account might raise some questions regarding its authenticity and the information it contains. For that reason, the second part of the chapter looks in detail at the similarities and differences between the description of the origin of the Qalandar movement in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* and the account contained in the 'official' hagiography of the Qalandars, *Manaqib-i Jamal al-Din Savi*, written in the 14th century by Khatib Farisi, a member of the Qalandar movement.14 The comparison offers the rare opportunity for historians of the period to obtain two descriptions of the same events from conflicting parts of society. Finally, the last part of the chapter explores the idea of orthodoxy offered by the *Fustat al-ʿadala* to its patron. This section considers the attempt of the author to offer his Turkmen patron a complementary view between Hanafi and Shafiʿi interpretations of Islamic law as a tool to tackle and confront the spread of the Qalandar 'heresy' in Anatolia.

### **5.1 Antinomian Sufis in 13th-century Anatolia: The** *Fustat al-ʿadala's* **view on the Qalandars**

The origin of the term 'Qalandar' is unclear, with theories ranging from suggesting a semantic origin in different Persian words to speculations on a possible Greek origin for the term.15 The first documented use of the word in Arabic script appears in a *rubāʿī* of Baba Tahir ʿUryani (d. 1029), but it became more widespread when used in the title of the *Qalandarnama*, 16 a short treatise written by ʿAbd Allah-i Ansari (d. 481/1088–89).17 This short text is the earliest reference we have to a set of practices that would later become associated with the extreme ascetic conduct, advocacy for poverty, mendicancy, itinerancy, celibacy, self-mortification, and the various eremitic and cenobitic practices of the antinomian Sufis.18 This approach to religion spread quickly among religious scholars from the 12th century onwards, influencing Sufi shaykhs generally considered mainstream such as Ghazali, who adopted this ascetic lifestyle for at least ten years after rejecting all his previous rational knowledge of Islam acquired in Islamic institutions.19 Similarly, influential Sufi masters that were present in Anatolia in the 13th century had close contact with antinomian Sufis. For example, Fakhr al-Din ʿIraqi (d. 1256) joined a group of antinomian Sufis with whom he travelled in northern India and Afghanistan before arriving in Anatolia.20 The inclusion of Qalandari elements in ʿIraqi's works also had an impact in spreading some of the antinomian ideas among poets of later years such as Hafiz (d. 1390) or Shah Daʾi Shirazi (d. 1465).21

Although the evidence is conflicting, traditional Turkish historiography also associates with these groups of antinomian Sufis Hacı Bektaş Veli (d. 1270– 71), one of the saints most venerated by later Sufi movements such as Alevism and Bektashism, which became highly influential in the Ottoman Empire.22 Hacı Bektaş was yet another Khurasani migrant to Anatolia, who became associated with Baba Rasul (executed in Amasya in 1240), a Turkmen rebel who has been linked with proclamations of Mahdism and connected to Shiism for leading a revolt in the peninsula in the early 13th century.23 However, in a recent study of the revolt, Peacock dismisses these allegations, suggesting that the uprising might have been connected more to 'the enduring appeal of a religiosity based on the power of prophecy and the *sunna* of the Prophet and the first Caliphs' than 'popular apocalypticism, Mahdism or Shiism'.24 According to Aflaki, Baba Rasul was disobedient of the sharia and a critic of Jalal al-Din Rumi's moderate practices, which, despite controversies, suggests that he might have belonged to one of the competing Sufi orders and antinomian groups that worried the Mevlevi hagiographer.25 Similarly, Shams-i Tabrizi (d. 1247), the spiritual guide of Jalal al-Din Rumi, had also been connected to some ascetic practices, subversive attitudes and antinomian behaviour.26 However, a close examination of Shams-i Tabrizi's work and the edition in the mid-20th century of Sultan Valad's description of Shams has shown that Tabrizi was not merely a folkloric character but rather had a deep knowledge of Islamic law and sciences.27

If some mainstream Sufis were close to antinomian Sufis during their lifetime, certain other famous contemporary Anatolian shaykhs firmly opposed them. The 13th century saw a slow but steady institutionalisation of Sufism that resulted in the emergence of *ṭuruq* (Sufi orders) in the 14th century with a more moderate view on the ascetic practices of their followers.28 For example, although not a founder of a tariqa himself, the influential Sufi Najm al-Din Razi (d. 1256) bluntly opposed the ascetic attitude of the Qalandars, condemning their attitudes and their contravention of the sharia.29 Similarly, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* offers a clearly hostile portrait of the Qalandars by including them as a part of the people that are described as *zindīq* (pl. *zanādiqa*), generally translated as 'innovators' or 'free thinkers' and associated in the Islamic tradition with heretical movements from the early Islamic period.30 The author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, however, does not use the term 'Qalandar' in any part of the text, but prefers to refer to the antinomian dervishes he is describing as *jawlaqīyān*, a term referring to the weighty sack-like woollen cloth used by the Qalandars in the 13th century.31 The section on the Qalandars covers the initial four sections out of the six sections that form chapter (*bāb*) 5 (ff. 50a–69b) of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*. 32

The first section (ff. 50–51a), titled 'The atheists of our time and the similarity of their behaviour to those who had gone before', is a general description of the *zanādiqa* (innovators) introducing some of their practices. The section is used by the author to directly criticise members of the religious establishment of his time (*rūzgār-i ʿulamāʾ*) and the secular powers for not acting to prevent the spread of these heresies.33 The second section (ff. 51a– 51b), named 'The conditions and affairs of *jawlaqīyān*', is short and rather repetitive with regard to the previous section but highlights the heretical nature of the mendicant dervishes' practices. Section three (ff. 51b–53b) is entirely dedicated to providing an account of the conversion of Jamal al-Din Savi (d. *c*. 1232–33), founder of the Qalandar movement*,* from mainstream Sufism to Qalandarism.34 Finally, the fourth section (ff. 53b–55a), exclusively dedicated to the *jawlaqīyān*, offers the reader a distinctive, yet somehow superficial, explanation of the beliefs of this sect's members.

This unique account of the Qalandars' origins, beliefs and practices does not respond to any anthropological interest on the part of the author, but rather aims to denounce the morally decadent state in which he believes 13thcentury Anatolia was submerged. In the words of the author himself:

The purpose of writing this chapter of the book is that any Muslim who reads and studies this book will benefit from the stories, news, advice, sermons and chronicles of prophets, caliphs and kings and their behaviour and conduct, and that he will draw a lesson from the stories of the *zindiq*s and heretics of previous ages [from which] people will take an example. As for such people (the *zindiq*s) who [live] in this age, he (the good Muslim) should regard them with contempt and loathing. And when he knows some of these stories from this book, he will easily understand their situation and comprehend their words. Some *zindiq*s and heretics of our day that have appeared know that their conduct and behaviour are deeds of innovation/ heresy. By heart, hand and tongue, he [the reader] must 'command what is right' and stay away from them, and he must have trust that God the King of the World, the Creator of Mankind, the Lord of the Heaven and Earth, who gives aid to His friends, who reduces and makes contemptible His enemies, just as He has fended off the enemies of religion in every age, will likewise do so in this age.35

As is clear from this passage, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* makes an effort to represent these mendicant dervishes as deviants from the right path and treats them as an obscure part of society that is dangerously expanding and gaining adepts in the late 13th century. In doing so, however, it offers some unique insights into the author's perception of the large-scale expansion of the Qalandars in the Islamic world, as well as detailing some of the beliefs and practices of these dervishes.

At the end of section three of the chapter dedicated to the *jawlaqīyān*, there is a particular passage claiming that the number of Qalandars in the Islamic world by the 13th century could be counted in the thousands (*hizārāni hizār*), extending their area of influence in regions such as East and West Turkestan (Bishbaliq),36 Iraq, Transoxiana (Mavaraʾ al-Nahr) and Khurasan, Azerbaijan, Egypt (Misr), Anatolia (Rum), the Levant and North Africa (Maghrib).37 Rather than being seen as factual information, this statement should be regarded as a way of expressing an idea of moral decay across the Islamic world and a way to vividly exemplify the wide expansion of this heretic movement.38 Yet, the exaggeration by the author of the work does not mean that he is making up the information he has collected on the dervishes. For example, the *Fustat* acknowledges the fact that the mendicant dervishes considered themselves to be Muslims, suggesting that the author relied on sources either close to the Qalandars or at least with a good knowledge of them when composing the *Fustat al-ʿadala*. Obviously, this self-identification made by the antinomian Sufis is quickly discarded by the author of the work, who invites his reader to consider them (the Qalandars) as clearly heretic in view of their ignorance of the Quran, their acceptance of innovation and because, with their acts and beliefs, they were 'turning Muslims against Muslims'.39

Like the majority of texts produced in medieval times describing the whereabouts of these antinomian Sufis, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* offers an unbalanced amount of information between the rather schematic description of the Qalandars' beliefs and the longer – rather colourful – description of these dervishes' heretical practices . The interesting point in terms of the antinomian dervishes' understanding of religion is that the *Fustat* suggests these people formed a rather heterogeneous group. According to the text, some Qalandar dervishes worshipped the planets or the firmament (*falak-parastī*), others would direct their prayers to the sun (*āftāb*), or the moon (*māh*).40 The idea of these dervishes worshipping celestial bodies might be suggesting a set of beliefs similar to those of shamanists, animists, or perhaps simply pre-Islamic Turco-Mongol traditions that were still shared in the 13th century across Eurasia.41 However, this is difficult to assert and another possibility is that the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* was trying to make a parallel to his Turkmen patrons in Kastamonu between the Qalandars' heretical nature and a set of pagan beliefs that perhaps were still present among the lightly Islamised Turkmen tribes living in Anatolia.42

In addition to highlighting non-Islamic beliefs among the Qalandars, the author of the *Fustat* stresses some contradictory views on *kalām* (theology) among its members. According to the account, some dervishes were inclined to support the Islamic notion of *taʿṭīl*, which negates the possibility of assigning any type of attributes to God. Yet, simultaneously, other Qalandar followers were openly advocating *tashbīh* (anthropomorphism) in a clear philosophical contradiction between the members of the group. Other classical philosophical

controversies of Islamic thought such as the belief in the free will (*ikhtiyār*) of human beings on Earth or the predetermination (*qadar*) of human fate are mentioned in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* as being shared by different Qalandar members.43 The general description of the Qalandars' evil nature closes the short description on beliefs:

They [the Qalandars] denied the robe of Islam and this *zanādiqa* people of these days, which bind themselves to the Muslim community, this libertarian people (*mubaḥiyān*), who claim poverty and behave like dervishes, have been found in this age and have exhibited heresy and innovation (*zanādiqa*). They have stirred Muslims from Islam. From the beginning they manifested themselves outside the law (sharia) … They have appropriated [people's] livestock for [them] and many people are made homeless and miserable. They don't perform *Commanding Good and Forbidding Evil*. 44 They do not fear the punishment of kings and are free from the [control] of the sheriffs (*iḥtisāb*-*i muḥtasibān*). And if a forbidding conduct was established for Muslims, this work/law (*kār*) will not last long. If the government of kings was firmly in accordance to religious jealousy, then heresy and disarray would be short-lived. Debauchery (*ibāḥatī*) is not apparent in Islam except when led by honourless kings, consenting ulama and the silence of common and noble people. These inferior people [the Qalandars] do not have any type of science such as astronomy, natural, philosophy, logic, arithmetic and others that attract people by means of knowledge. These ignorant people have set a trap to deviate [Muslims from the right path], and [those who were] vagrant, voluptuary, crafty, sinful and immoral have joined them. They are affected by the vain words and absurd acts of their dervishes. Their first step is sin.45

If on the one hand it might be possible that a variety of beliefs and philosophical ideas circulated among members of the Qalandar movement in this formative period of the 13th century, it is impossible to corroborate these claims with any contemporary source available. However, this portrayal of conflictive and contradictory Islamic beliefs among their followers might have served more of a narrative purpose by the author in representing this group as heretic and incoherent in the eyes of his patron, rather than being a precise description of the Qalandar set of beliefs in this period.

If the description of Qalandar beliefs is superficial, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* entertains itself further in describing some of the practices of these people. Ahmet Karamustafa has already suggested the inherent opposition between the sharia and the practices of these dervishes.46 The same opposition is stressed in the narrative of the *Fustat*, where the author not only denounces the Qalandar practices but also complains that Muslims are being easily influenced by the behaviour of these 'innovators'. There are a number of common practices enumerated in the *Fustat* to emphasise the Qalandars' heretical nature. Firstly, it is mentioned that they skip daily prayers (*namāz*). The narrative in the *Fustat*

dedicates a relatively long part of the text to the contravention of this practice, adding that when the Qalandars do pray, they do so in barns or stables. When they actually come to the mosque to pray, they openly ignore the queue for entry and step in front of other Muslims, creating a disturbance outside the mosque. In fact, this rebellious act of not queuing is emphasised in the narrative several times and seems to be of special concern for the *Fustat al-ʿadala*'s author. Certainly, this was one of the most evident practices of the Qalandars, as it surely provoked public tension between the dervishes and other members of the Muslim community when attending the mosque. Further, it reflects the subversive behaviour of these dervishes, who publicly confronted the norms of the imams and the hegemonic religious classes by demonstrating in this way an important component of the ideological individualism characteristic of all mendicant dervishes.47

The subversion of Islamic prohibitions and the profanation of sacred places is a recurrent *topos* in different accounts about the Qalandars. For example, it is mentioned that these dervishes used to break the fast during the month of Ramadan, drank wine (*khamr*) and used cannabis (*sabzak*) frequently.48 The second section of this chapter (ff. 51a–51b) claims that the Qalandars even consumed these substances inside the mosque and allowed dogs to wander in the holy places during their gatherings.49 Although perhaps exaggerated, unlike with the case of the suggested set of the Qalandars' beliefs mentioned above, it is interesting that the description of some Qalandar practices contained in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* can be corroborated with other sources. For example, references to the use of cannabis in the Islamic world during medieval times are not rare, as the substance was widely used by different Islamic communities across the centuries.50 The use of intoxicating substances and their spread in the region is one of the major concerns of the author of the *Fustat*. There is a short but specific argument made against the use of cannabis among Muslims, claiming that the Prophet Muhammad himself prohibited it and illustrating this point by offering a detailed description of the effects of this substance on the human body (dried nasal mucus, depression, strange illusions, amnesia, uncontrollable laughter and anger, among other symptoms).51 The preoccupation of the *Fustat*'s author in trying to prove the haram nature of cannabis seems to have been a response to a debate in Anatolia about the issue of intoxicating substances, use of which appears to have become widespread along with the mendicant dervishes. In the case of Anatolia, there is a reference to the use of hashish in *al-Walad al-shafiq* written by Ahmad of Niğde (*fl.* 13th century).52 However, more famous is the reference found in the account of the travels of Ibn Battuta (d. 1368–69), who mentions having seen people consuming cannabis in Sinop, close to the Chobanid domains, during his travels in the 14th century.53

References to the physical appearance of these dervishes is personified in the account of the conversion to Qalandarism of its founder Jamal al-Din Savi and his initial companions. We will look in more detail at this account later in this chapter, but it is interesting to highlight that the author of the

*Fustat* stresses the fact that they all shaved their hair, beard and eyebrows and began to wear the woollen cloth (*julaq*) characteristic of the antinomian dervishes.54 The act of removing all facial hair certainly created a visual impact in medieval society. In fact, this is one characteristic of the mendicant dervishes that was repeatedly documented by visitors to Anatolia in medieval and early Ottoman times when they encountered any of these antinomian Sufis. For example, Ibn Battuta describes similar practices among these mendicant dervishes in the 14th century.55 In addition, European visitors left records of their encounters with these dervishes, who attracted attention with their extravagant appearance and behaviour.56 In the early 15th century, Ruy Gonzales de Clavijo (d. 1412), the Spanish ambassador to the court of Tamerlane, encountered dervishes chanting near the city of Erzurum while en route to the Timurid court in Central Asia.57 Similarly, the Italian merchant Josaphat Barbaro (d. 1494), who visited the court of the Aq Quyunlu ruler Uzun Hasan (r. 1453–78), left a short anecdote of his encounter with a man in the city of Mardin, who, apart from a goatskin, was naked and fully shaved in the custom of the Qalandars.58

Overall, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* appears to reflect a faithful description of the Qalandars when the information is compared with other sources. The tone of the section is one of denunciation, condemnation and even concern regarding the beliefs and subversive practices of the Qalandars and their growing influence among people in Anatolia. The unique information provided by this text on these antinomian dervishes also serves the purpose of highlighting their total disrespect for the sharia, making their heretical practices evident to the reader of the work. As mentioned before, the Qalandar opposition to the rule of law was an inherent part of the antinomian practices, but the description of these practices is also used by the author to criticise the inaction of the religious and secular elites of 13th-century Anatolia. The religious establishment is accused of corruption and having a desire only to perpetuate themselves in positions of power. Hence, instead of fighting these heresies, the ulama are portrayed as solely concerned with obtaining high positions and status (*bi manṣab wa jāh mashghūl*), which they obtain by using gold (*bih zar kharīdand*).59 The religious classes and kings alike come in for criticism, because

… nowadays, [practising] commanding good and forbidding evil has completely disappeared [from society]. The kings neglect religious commands (*aḥkām-i dīn*) and stopped enquiring meticulously about people and their condition. It is worrying that the religious authorities and elders, who are supposed to guide us, are going in the wrong direction themselves. They have taken the path towards discord and hiding truth, [they] became ignorant, negligent of the faith and don't try hard for religion. If religious scholars and authorities had been there doing their duty in the correct way, like in previous times, religion would not be seen as now. It is happening that the *zindīq*s (heretics, infidels, unbelievers) publicly manifest themselves in the robe of infidelity and heresy. Neither the kings, elders and religious leaders

### 152 *Islam under the Chobanids: Between heresy and the ulama*

are concerned with this issue [anymore] and do not turn their attention (*iltifāt nimīkardand*) to what is happening.60

This pessimistic picture of a decadent religious and secular elite is mixed with specific instructions as to what the righteous king should do with regard to heresy. No specific reference is made to the rulers of Kastamonu, but a call for action for secular powers to get involved in protecting orthodoxy is introduced on different occasions throughout the text. For example, the author mentions that kings should not only know the sharia but also 'it is a must for kings to kill the person who abandons religion, because leaving religion is a huge crime against Islam'.61 Nonetheless, the negative picture given of the state of Islam in Anatolia is eventually reversed at the end of the work. The author makes a turn in his narrative to say that he is hopeful now, because Sultan Masʿud b. Kaykaʾus, ruler of the Seljuqs of Rum (d. 1308) has come to the region and has cleaned the earth of this ungodly (*bī dīn*) and hideous (*zasht*) innovative people (*zanādiqa*).62 This final accolade to Masʿud, recently appointed Seljuq sultan by the Mongol Ilkhan Arghun, together with a dedication to Muzaffar al-Din Choban in the poem at the end of the work, appear to be a last-minute change in tone to please the text's patrons. However, it also serves to overwrite the clear concern shown by the author across the majority of the work about the spread of the Qalandars, the lack of religious and secular enforcement of sharia and the corrupt nature of the Anatolian ulama.

The pessimistic account of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* is an early representation of a view on the antinomian Sufis from the perspective of a 13th-century, possibly Iranian, author with a certain degree of religious education.63 However, the role in society and their integration into the religious landscape of medieval Anatolia of these mendicant Sufis would undergo significant changes from the 14th and especially from the 15th century onwards. Antinomian Sufi groups such as the Qalandars, Haydaris, Abdals of Rum, or Shams-i Tabrizis would eventually produce their own literary corpus, organise their own internal hierarchies and standardise their practices to the point where they stopped being an oddity in the eyes of the secular rulers and orthodox religious classes. By the 15th century, they had become more or less amalgamated into the consolidation of the Bektashis, who, although keeping some antinomian rituals and ceremonies, were considered as the more official Sufi order of the Ottoman Empire.64 An analysis of the centralising process of the antinomian Sufis that occurred in the early Ottoman Empire is beyond the scope of this book, but perhaps it was this process of integration of these groups that made the contents of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* an appealing text to be copied in the 16th century.65

### **5.2 On the origin of the Qalandars: Complementary views from the** *Fustat al-ʿadala* **and the** *Manaqib-i Jamal al-Din Savi*

As part of his account of the *jawlaqīyān* (Qalandars) dedicated to Muzaffar al-Din Choban, the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* includes a section dedicated

to the life of Jamal al-Din Savi (d. *c*. 630/1232–33), allegedly founder of the Qalandar movement in Damascus.66 Although the movement's initiator was alive during the 13th century, and other groups of antinomian Sufis were active then, it would not be until the 14th century that the Qalandars would produce their own literary works.67 It was during this period that a member of the movement wrote a version of the Qalandar origin story, a moment that is generally seen as key in the process of forming a religious identity and self-identification for these antinomian Sufis. This origin story is a hagiography known as the *Manaqib-i Jamal al-Din Savi*, written by Khatib Farisi, an Iranian-born Qalandar originally from Shiraz.68 Like the section on the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, this work is also devoted to a description, although in versified Persian, of the life of Jamal al-Din Savi. The work was composed in AH 748 (1347–48) with the clear intention of narrating the spiritual conversion of Jamal al-Din Savi from the classical Sufi path to Qalandarism, and to provide details on the Qalandars' fate after the death of their spiritual leader.69

The first interesting aspect that emerges from a comparison between the account of the *Manaqib-i Jamal al-Din Savi* and the *Fustat al-ʿadala* has to do with the chronology of the two texts. Jamal al-Din Savi died in *c*. AH 630 (1232–33), over a century before the events narrated in Farisi's hagiography. The chronological distance between the composition of the text and the life of Savi might be surprising, but it is rather common in the production of medieval Islamic hagiographic literature. Authors generally lived two or three generations later than their protagonists, meaning that often they were not direct witnesses of the events they narrated but rather compilers of different anecdotes circulating both orally and in written form within the community of followers.70 The aspect that is less common when comparing the texts in question here is that the account of the life of Savi contained in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* precedes by half a century the official hagiography of the Qalandars written by Farisi.71 In this context, the availability of these two texts offers an interesting opportunity to contrast two different versions of how the Qalandar movement might have originated. In addition, the accounts offer conflicting perspectives on the subject: one (the *Manaqib*) being the official version of the movement produced within Qalandar circles in the 14th century, and the other (the *Fustat*) written by an author openly hostile to the practices and beliefs of these antinomian Sufis during the 13th century.

Despite their ideological and chronological distance, it is remarkable that both accounts are strikingly similar in the correlation of facts and events. In narrating Savi's early life of Savi, both the *Fustat* and the *Manaqib* agree that after leaving his hometown of Sadeh in Iran, Savi lived in Baghdad for a while before moving to Damascus.72 Although in different circumstances, as we will see below, in both accounts Savi's early spiritual life is connected to Shaykh ʿUthman-i Rumi, who will play a fundamental role in both narratives (see below). After spending some time living among mainstream Sufis, both texts coincide in mentioning that Savi went to visit the grave of the companion of the Prophet Muhammad, Bilal Habashi (d. *c*. 16–17/638–21/642)73 in the vicinity of Damascus in order to meditate alone and away from other community members.74 Both sources report that while in the cemetery he met an ascetic who would impress Savi so much that he would adopt the practices and beliefs that would become characteristic of the Qalandars. In both cases, this mysterious person inspires Savi to shave his head and eyebrows, adopt poverty and reject his previous life.

However, the similarities in the narration of the events that make up the backbone of the story have certain differences that reflect the opposing views in each text. For example, the more hostile *Fustat al-ʿadala* claims that in his meeting with the mysterious ascetic at the grave of Bilal Habashi, Jamal al-Din Savi shared cannabis and wine with his new companion, something omitted in the *Manaqib*. 75 Further, the name given to the ascetic is different in each account. While the *Fustat al-ʿadala* names him as Amrad Shirazi Garubad, the *Manaqib* identifies him as Jalal Dargzini. Neither name seems to appear in any other sources of the period.76 These two slightly different versions of the initiation to ascetism by Savi are complemented with yet another version that differs even further from these two and that appears to have circulated during the formative period of the Qalandars. Ibn Battuta was able to record, while travelling in Anatolia and Damascus in the 14th century, yet another version. According to him, the reason why Savi decided to shave was to appear physically unattractive to a certain woman who had been trying to seduce him and managed to trick him into entering her house. When the woman saw him with his head, beard and moustache shaved, she gave him some peace and he managed to escape from her. Savi interprets, then, that the idea of removing his facial hair was given to him by God as a way to show renouncement of sinful acts, and for that reason, he decided to stick to the custom and adopt an ascetic lifestyle.77

One particular character, Shaykh ʿUthman-i Rumi, emerges in these texts as playing an important role in the conversion of Savi to Qalandarism, albeit with variations in the narrative of each text. We know little about this shaykh, but he appears to have been well known and had a *khānaqā* in Damascus. He is mentioned in the hagiography containing the life of Awhad al-Din Kirmani (d. 1238), a controversial Iranian Sufi contemporary of Savi who lived most of his life in Anatolia.78 From the references in these accounts, ʿUthman-i Rumi appears to have been a clear representative of a mainstream Sufi in the early 13th century. However, Farisi seems to have a different chronology of the events. Instead of placing the life of Jamal al-Din Savi in the 13th century as other accounts do, he establishes the life of Savi between AH 382 (992– 93) and AH 403 (1070–71). This historical inaccuracy is not uncommon in a hagiographical work such as Farisi's, who was certainly more concerned with transmitting the deeds of the founder of the Qalandars than with providing an accurate chronology of events.79 Consequently, some initial discrepancies between the narratives of the works emerge in the characters that interact with Savi and their relationship to him. Farisi tells us that, when Savi was a young Sufi master, ʿUthman-i Rumi was sent to him by Bayazid Bistami (d. AH 261/

874–75, or AH 234/848–49), described as a companion of Savi.80 The chronology of the events in Farisi's account does not even match his own periodisation of the life of Savi. If Savi lived when Farisi tells us, Bistami would have been dead for over a century. Hence, it seems clear that the construction of the narrative in the *Manaqib* is more concerned with enhancing Savi's religious credentials during his early life by connecting him with Bistami than with a faithful reconstruction of the events. More confusion is added to this scrambled chronology when considering the sources used by Savi in his discussion. Karamustafa has pointed out that in his work, Farisi mentions Savi giving a sermon on the idea of ' "macrocosmos" and "microcosmos" in a totally predictable, conservative manner'.81 This suggests that Savi could be seen as a mainstream Sufi before becoming a Qalandar ascetic, since the sermon is based on the *Mirsad al-ʿibad min al-mabdaʾ ila al-maʿad* of Najm al-Din Razi (d. 1256–57), a mainstream Sufi disciple of Najm al-Din Kubra (d. 1221) contemporary with Savi.82 By contrast, the *Fustat* does not give any specific dates on the lifespan of Savi but suggests that Savi was a disciple of ʿUthman-i Rumi during his stay in Damascus.83 The idea that persists in both accounts is, though, that Savi began as a mainstream Sufi before he departed on his path to Qalandarism.

Although they agree on the main facts, the departure from the mainstream Sufi path and Savi's conversion to Qalandarism is presented in different ways in both texts. The *Fustat al-ʿadala* claims that after joining ʿUthman-i Rumi in Damascus and spending some time with his community in that city, one day, ʿUthman's followers

… were engaged in prayer (*ʿibāda*), solitude (*khalwa*), endeavour/struggle (*mujāhda*) and being constantly remembering [of God] (*mudāwamat-i ẕikr*) that was the path and tradition of ancient shaykhs. Jamal [al-Din] couldn't handle being with this group because a desire for innovation (*zandiqa*) was present inside him [*farāg̠ẖat dāshta zandiqa mi-kard*].84

The more benevolent narrative in the *Manaqib* obviously does not mention an internal desire for heresy as the reason for Savi's conversion. Instead, Farisi relates that after leaving Iraq, Savi decided to travel to different locations with forty of his dervishes (including ʿUthman-i Rumi). During these travels, on one occasion they all visited the Bab al-Saghir cemetery in Damascus.85 As in the *Fustat* version, it is in this cemetery where Savi finds the man (in this case, Jalal Dargzini) who by being totally naked, silent and motionless, impresses Savi deeply.86 He prays that he can be shown the right path and immediately Savi's hair falls out, by which he interprets that God has accepted him on the right path and he becomes a Qalandar.

Thus, while in the *Manaqib* account ʿUthman-i Rumi is demoted to the role of a follower of Savi, the *Fustat* represents him as a great shaykh in charge of a community of *murīd*s (disciples). In the final lines of the account of Savi's life, the *Fustat* mentions that ʿUthman-i Rumi was informed of the self-seclusion of Savi in the cemetery and how he had shaved his head and eyebrows.

Initially, ʿUthman-i Rumi sent some of his disciples to persuade Savi to return to his congregation, but the new Qalandar convert declined. Concerned by this, ʿUthman-i Rumi proclaimed that 'we must go and save [bring] him (*bāz āvarīm*) from that deviation (*ẓalālat*)'. Hence, he went to visit Savi with a group of his followers and after seeing him with his new physical appearance, the shaykh sat next to him. According to the *Fustat*, ʿUthman-i Rumi tried to persuade Savi of his wrongdoings by saying to him that 'this appearance (*shakl*) that you found (*paydā kardī*) is the appearance of devils [*shiyārīdan*] and a source of sedition (*fitna*) and evil (*sharr*) … Repent yourself! (*tawba kon*!)'. However, Savi did not abandon these practices and the shaykh's conciliatory tone changes dramatically.

In the face of Savi's refusal to abandon his ascetic practices, ʿUthmani Rumi

… took his sandal (*kafsh*) and hit [Savi] on the back of the neck hundreds of times, then said, 'Oh damned! (*ay malʿūn*!) You created sedition (*fitna*), evil (*sharr*), ugliness (*zishtī*) and innovation (*bidʿatī*) among people of the path (*ahl-i ṭarīq*). You started permissiveness/licentiousness (*ibāḥa*), unbelief (*kufir*) and aberration (*ẓalāla*); you [followed] Mazdak and Qaramtian religion'.87 The shaykh then banned his followers (*ṭarīq-i faqīr va darvīshān*) from him.88

The two opposing representations of Shaykh ʿUthman-i Rumi's reaction to Savi's conversion to Qalandarism mirror the tensions between different conceptions of Islam in 13th- and 14th-century Anatolia. On the one hand, the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, being composed by an author closer to the religious establishment – albeit critical of it – portrays Savi's religious transformation as a heretical deviation that should serve as an illustrative example of wrongdoings to the local Turkmen ruler of Kastamonu to whom the text is dedicated. Similarly, the mainstream Sufi shaykh ʿUthman-i Rumi is praised and elevated as being both compassionate at first and firmly anti-heresy later on, when he severely punishes Savi both physically by hitting him with his sandal and morally by excluding him from his community of Sufis. On the other hand, Farisi portrays ʿUthman-i Rumi as a simple follower, who recognises the greatness of Savi's commitment to poverty and ascetism. It is surprising that despite the alleged recognition of the shaykh, Farisi excludes ʿUthman-i Rumi from the group of Savi's companions that will spread Qalandarism in Anatolia (see below). Perhaps we can read this omission as an implicit recognition by Farisi of the mainstream nature of ʿUthman-i Rumi's religious background, against which Savi rebels by abandoning the material life and embracing an ascetic life.89 The contrast between the two sources' approach to the anecdote can be seen as a reflection of two different parts of 13th- and 14th-century Anatolian society, where tensions between a religious establishment that appears to have accepted mainstream Sufism is being challenged by a new form of religiosity represented by the Qalandars and other mendicant dervishes.

The information provided by the *Fustat al-ʿadala* opens another element of comparison with Farisi's *Manaqib* with regard to the consequences of Savi's conversion. In their own way, both texts document the rapid growth of the Qalandars in the Middle East. While as we have seen above, the *Fustat* mentions how 'thousands of thousands (*hizārān-i hizār*)' of *jawlaqīyān* have spread in the Middle East and Central Asia, the *Manaqib* narrates how Savi himself had to leave Damascus for Damietta in Egypt to escape from the large number of followers who were congregating around him.90 With Savi's departure to Egypt, a number of his early companions are mentioned by both accounts as being left in charge of the Qalandar dervishes. The *Fustat al-ʿadala* agrees with the work by Farisi that the direction of Savi's followers was left in the hands of Muhammad Balkhi, Muhammad Kurdi, Shams al-Kurd and Abu Bakr Niksari.91 The latter settled in Konya, spreading Savi's teachings in the capital of the Seljuqs of Rum and acquiring an important role in the religious life of the city in the 13th century.92 According to Aflaki's *Manaqib al-ʿarifin*, Niksari might have been close to Mevlevi groups in the city since he was one of only seven people in the city that received an ox as a present to commemorate the death of Mawlana Jalal al-Din Rumi in 1273.93 This reference not only suggests a permanent settlement of Qalandars in Konya during the 1270s, but also casts some doubt on the exclusive circumscription of the Qalandars to rural areas suggested by traditional Turkish historiography of the Köprülü paradigm. Instead, it appears that by the time the *Fustat al-ʿadala* was written, these mendicant dervishes were not only widespread in Anatolia but also much more integrated across different sections of society than previously anticipated.94

### **5.3 The ulama's reaction: A Hanafi–Shafi**ʿ**i dialogue in the** *Fustat al-ʿadala*

Although the appearance of mendicant dervishes created surprise and havoc among the religious establishment in Anatolia, they were only a noisy minority in a region where Islam was dominant in the 13th century. It is difficult to establish a clear-cut distinction between different Sufi groups when some antinomian Sufis such as Fakhr al-Din ʿIraqi (d. 1289) received support from powerful court officials, or some mainstream Sufis would carry out certain dubious orthodox Islamic rituals. However, it seems that mainstream Sufism was consolidating its structures around the personality of Sufi leaders such as Jalal al-Din Rumi and his descendants who, although having a mystical approach to Islam, were closer – unlike the antinomian Sufis – to the hegemonic powers than to challenging religious structures.95 Although there was a Shia minority in Anatolia, Sunni Islam consolidated in the region with the successive arrival of Sunni Turks and Persianised populations from Central Asia after the Seljuq conquest.96 Traditional approaches to the history of medieval Anatolia have generally connected the official affiliation of Turks in general, and the Seljuqs of Rum in particular, to the Hanafi school of law, as evidence of a predominance of this Islamic school in medieval Anatolia.97

By extrapolation, it has been assumed that Turkmen local rulers such as the Chobanids also followed the practice and precepts of Hanafi Islam. In a work mostly based on the study of the Jandarid dynasty, Cevdet Yakupoğlu suggests in passing that the Chobanid rulers such as Husam al-Din Choban or his descendants were Hanafis.98 He bases his argument on the fact that they supported the construction of Sunni mosques and madrasas and that the *Fustat al-ʿadala –* using only the section translated by Osman Turan – praises the Sunni-Hanafi Seljuq Sultan Masʿud II. However, looking at the whole text of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* dedicated to Muzaffar al-Din Choban, a more complex picture emerges. Although a personal affiliation to Hanafism by the Chobanid rulers is hard to prove in the absence of any description of their religious practices, the full contents of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* challenge the perception of a homogeneous medieval Hanafi Anatolia. Instead, the Shafiʿi school of law appears to have also been widely represented in Anatolia in the 13th century.

Based on the view that Hanafism was the madhhab of the Turks and the attested migrations of Hanafi 'ulama from Central Asia, there is an assumption among modern scholars that the Seljuq domination of Anatolia was dominated by Hanafi law.99 Ibn Battuta's description of 14th-century Anatolia – where he mentions that 'all of the people of this land belong to the school of Imam Abu Hanifa (God be pleased with him) and are firmly attached to the Sunna' – has been widely quoted as an eyewitness report of this homogeneity.100 No doubt, Hanafi fiqh (jurisprudence) was popular among Anatolian intellectuals in the late 14th and early 15th centuries, some of whom, like Hacı Paşa (d. *c*. 1425), even participated in a number of debates and intellectual arguments against Shafiʿi jurists while studying in Cairo.101 However, it seems that the idea of a majoritarian and well-defined Hanafi Anatolia in the 13th century is a rather *a posteriori* construction made from a religious reality corresponding to the early Ottoman period rather than Seljuq Asia Minor.102 Instead, some evidence suggests that in Seljuq- and Mongol-dominated Anatolia, the separation between Hanafi and Shafiʿi fiqh was less clearly defined. For example, Ibn Bibi never questions the adherence of the Seljuq rulers to Hanafi jurisprudence, yet he states that the sultan ʿAlaʾ al-Din Kayqubad I (r. 1220–37) performed his morning prayers according to the Shafiʿi tradition.103 Further, even if Anatolia was Hanafi in its majority, scholars of either Iranian or Syrian origin migrated in large numbers to the region during the 13th century, bringing with them their own set of Shafiʿi practices popular in their homelands.104 It has been suggested that among those migrant Shafiʿi scholars was Husam al-Din Khuʾi (d. not before 1309), the author of different works dedicated to the Chobanid rulers.105

The *Fustat al-ʿadala* is another example of the complex coexistence between these two Islamic schools of law in 13th-century Anatolia.106 The text dedicated to the Chobanid rulers of Kastamonu not only offers some unique insights into the origins, beliefs and practices of the Qalandar dervishes, but also dedicates a portion of its contents to the discussion of certain practices according to the interpretation of Hanafi and Shafiʿi fiqh. In the *Fustat*, section 5 of chapter 5, both the Hanafi and Shafiʿi legal traditions are quoted extensively to address different conflictive issues in the practice of Islam, becoming a manual of legal practices which appears to be addressed mainly at secular powers.107 Since this section was not transcribed by Osman Turan in his article describing this work, this part of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* has received very little attention.108 A closer look at this particular section can serve not only as an interesting testimony of the coexistence of both legal traditions in Anatolia but also of the acceptance of a number of Shafiʿi practices by mainly Hanafi Turkmen local dynasties such as the Chobanids.

In this section of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, the author does not fully abandon his concern with the heresies shown above but rather makes the narrative flow as a mirror for princes, mixing anecdotes with specific advice to the reader in a style attempting to resemble the adaptation of the *Siyar al-muluk* included in other parts of the text (see Chapter 4). Yet, the focus on Islamic law, advocacy for a more strict implementation by the ulama and the author's call to secular powers to enforce these precepts gives the section a different tone from the rest of the chapter.109 Broadly defined, this section is an enumeration of a number of Islamic precepts as they should be followed by both Hanafi and Shafiʿi legal traditions. The text is concerned again with the lack of enforcement by kings and the ulama to prevent people from living outside the law. The author includes anecdotes, quotations from the Quran and extracts from different hadiths in a pedagogical manner that illustrates the moral values of both Hanafi and Shafiʿi concepts; he presents them as ideological tools that provide rulers with the necessary advice to behave as orthodox Muslims, while simultaneously offering a set of standard practices that could help the secular powers to identify and prevent the spread of heresy in their territories.

The text's pedagogical tone text can be observed from the opening paragraph of the section which includes an explanation on the Islamic concept of *al-ʿamr bi al-maʿrūf wa al-nahī ʿan al-munkar* (commanding good and forbidding evil), highlighted as a principle given by God to all the prophets. In a direct address to the reader, the author explains that if the *ʿamr bi al-maʿrūf* (commanding good) is neglected, 'all religious laws (*hamaʾi shiʿār-i sharʿ*) become invalid/deteriorate (*bāṭil shud*)'.110 Using a tone that implies that the author is addressing someone with very little knowledge of Islamic doctrine, he explains how there is punishment in the sharia for not following this principle, as there is for other more mundane sins such as drinking wine (*khamr*), robbery (*duzdī*), adultery (*zināʾ*), or revenge (*qiṣāṣ*).111 Further, the text emphasises that to command good (*ʿamr bi al-maʿrūf*) is a duty (*ājab*) of every Muslim and he who does not obey will not be blessed by God. A Quranic verse is then quoted to exemplify this statement.112 The final lines of the paragraph leave aside any doubts as to who is ultimately responsible to fulfil this duty:

That means that a group from you [the king] must have the job to invite people to God and command good and forbid evil. And it is for this reason that commanding good is a duty. Nevertheless, it is enough that [the] king appoints a person for this job in city, town or country who is competent. If that person is worthy, there will be no uprising among the rest of the people in city, town or country. But if someone [is appointed who] neglects [commanding good], so it will [be] necessary for everybody from the people of God and from Muslims to enforce *ʿamr bi al-maʿrūf* and if they don't do it, all the people on earth will be named criminals and will be punished by God the Greatest.113

Following this call to the ruler to embrace 'commanding good and forbidding evil', the next paragraphs elaborate on the need to perform this duty by introducing a number of examples taken from the Islamic tradition. In this case, the *Fustat* brings together a common set of episodes narrated in the hadiths by which God punished members of a Jewish village by making them look like apes for going fishing and thus breaking the Sabbath.114 This episode is followed by a reference to the commitment to *ʿamr bi al-maʿrūf* of Hudhayfa b. al-Yaman (d. 656), one of the companions of the Prophet Muhammad. The *Fustat* quotes the exact lines in the Arabic original, which reads 'By the One in Whose Hand is my soul! Either you command good and forbid evil, or Allah will soon send upon you a punishment from Him, then you will call upon Him, but He will not respond to you'.115 These lines are attributed to Ibn al-Yaman in the *Jamiʿ al-Tirmidhi*, one of the major six hadith collections compiled between AH 250 (864–65) and AH 270 (884) by Muhammad b. ʿIsa al-Tirmidhi (d. 892).116 A similar narrative structure is used with quotations from other hadiths, such as the *Sunan Abi Dawud* of Abu Daʾud Sulayman b. al-Ashʿath al-Sijistani (d. 889),117 references to the sayings of Aisha, wife of the Prophet Muhammad, to illustrate different aspects of the doctrine of *ʿamr bi al-maʿrūf*. 118 It is worth mentioning that after each Arabic citation, there is an explanation of the quote's meaning in Persian. This suggests, on the one hand, a pedagogical purpose in the composition of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* that aims to improve the religious literacy of its audience. On the other hand, it is another example, like the composition of dictionaries and vocabularies by Husam al-Din Khuʾi, of the intended reader's lack of Arabic proficiency and the effort of these authors to make classical Arabic texts available to a mainly Persian-speaking audience.119

The text is far from homogeneous in the selection of quotes and anecdotes. In an interesting change of sources, the section begins to quote different sayings of Imam ʿAli, nephew of the Prophet, to re-introduce into the narrative aspects of heresy and disbelief. Yet, instead of simply narrating the deeds and beliefs of heretics, the text provides a guide to identify sin and to prevent oneself from committing it. ʿAli's commands are used to emphasise that a good Muslim might sin (*gunāh mikunīd*), but there is also the chance of repentance (*tawba … āz gunāh kardan*) when a sin is committed.120 Depending on their attitude to repentance, the author tries to explain in an easy way how to make a clear distinction between believers and unbelievers. He mentions that sin defines Muslims to the point where they are cut 'by a blade' (*tīgh*) into two groups. One group includes those who in the beginning were Muslims who 'fight people until they [unbelievers] say there is no god but God',121 and the other group includes those people that have set religion aside and need to be killed.122 This distinction is presented once again in terms of orthodoxy and heresy, with the advocacy for persecution and punishment of unbelievers circumscribed to the Muslim community. The division is made only between good and bad Muslims, but there is no mention of how Christians or Jews should be treated in this respect.

The kind of references used to enforce the points of the narrative shift halfway through the section, when the use of hadiths is abandoned and classical Islamic jurists are quoted instead. The concern to inform the reader about how to be a good Muslim is further exemplified in a new paragraph that lists 15 sins allegedly indicated by Abu Hanifa as those that good Muslims should avoid and punish:


These sins are not explained in great detail but they all share the characteristic of being very specific sinful practices, many of which could quite easily occur in daily life and need to be avoided. Although some of these practices refer to general sinful acts that could apply to all Muslims (sins number 2, 7, 14), others target situations more specifically connected to the lightly Islamised Chobanid territories; in particular, the two references on what to do with Christians and Jews willing to convert to Islam (sin number 11), or how to prevent converts of those faiths reverting to their former religion (sin number 12). Further, additional listed sins focus on regulating gender relations (sins number 3, 9 and 13) and the way in which the reader should behave vis-à-vis the invocation of the Prophet Muhammad and God in his daily life (sins number 1, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 and 15). While suggesting what proper Muslims should do about Jewish and Christian converts appears to be useful advice for new Muslims living on the border with Byzantium, the references to gender and religious misconduct evidence some tension between the religious establishment (represented by the text's author) and daily life practices in 13th-century Kastamonu. The use of Abu Hanifa as a source of authority for these rules is also an attempt by this religious class to bring the Turkmen rulers of Kastamonu and their recently Islamised subjects closer to a way of life acceptable to the moral standards of the religious ulama.

The author's concern with explaining sins to his readers does not stop here. After these 15 specific acts, the narrative in the text addresses other equally dangerous activities that need to be avoided. As has been observed, in medieval Anatolian sources, the consumption of wine is not particularly associated with non-Muslims, but is rather a Muslim concern.124 The prohibition of wine consumption in Islam is one of the main worries of the author. The text explains that Islam not only condemns the drinking of wine but also the person who squeezes the grape (*angūr mi-fishārd*), those who order others to squeeze grapes, the person who pours wine (*sāqī*), the person who sells wine (*firūshanda*), and so on.125 On this occasion, the rationale for this restriction is not based on Abu Hanifa. Instead, the prohibition of wine consumption among Muslims is justified by quoting the words of Shafiʿi, who according to the *Fustat al-ʿadala* dictates that drinking wine is *haram* in all circumstances for Muslims and if even a drop of wine falls in a well, then all the water in that well will be contaminated for Muslims.126 Shafiʿi commands are immediately corroborated by the inclusion of similar restrictions on wine consumption attributed to Abu al-Layth Samarqandi (d. 983), a prominent Hanafi jurist also popular among Shafiʿis.127 This parallel display of Hanafi-Shafiʿi law is equally used to explain the punishment that should be applied to those found guilty of drinking wine, with Abu Hanifa stating 80 lashes in preference to the 40 lashes suggested by Shafiʿi jurisprudence.128

The concern of the author about the use of wine will be resumed a few folios later in the manuscript of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* (in section 6 of the work) by including a number of anecdotes of the Prophet's companions.129 However, in section 5, the next sin occupying the author is adultery. As with the case of wine, the terms by which adultery becomes a sin are first explained, followed by a few quotes of the Prophet Muhammad and the Imam ʿAli on this matter, and finishing with the formula for punishing such a sin.130 If Samarqandi is mentioned to illustrate the Hanafi approach to wine drinking in the previous example, in the case of adultery the name dropped is that of Malik b. Anas (d. 795), the founder of the Maliki school of law and at the same time a disciple of Abu Hanifa, and teacher of Shafiʿi.131 However, it is interesting that Malik b. Anas is brought into the narrative as a witness of an experience of adultery, but not as a religious scholar in the way his teacher and student are mentioned. Once the story is explained, then the definition and corresponding punishment for adultery are given according to both Abu Hanifa and Shafiʿi, always in this order. A similar formula is used repeatedly in this section to address other sins such as a felony or a murder, but also on matters of family life such as the four conditions needed to constitute a valid marriage or regulations on rights of property.132

Throughout this section, the verdicts of both Islamic schools are presented one after the other in such a way that they always show agreement. It is never mentioned that one should be used in preference to the other, or that the sentences provided by each school for a particular fault should be applied only to Muslims following one of these schools. In contrast to the debates and disputes that will emerge in the Ilkhanate in the early 14th century, in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* both Hanafi and Shafiʿi jurisprudence are presented as complementary to one another, offering the executor of the penalties two apparently equal options to persecute sins in medieval Anatolia.133 This is an interesting feature of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, showing that either the interaction between jurists and qadis of both schools was common in western Anatolia, or that a given judge could use one of the two to dictate sentence for a crime.134 The main goal of the text is not, however, to provide a manual of Islamic law but, I suspect, to alert recently designated Turkmen rulers and their subject populations on the need to prevent heretical behaviours, written by an author who may have belonged to the ulama establishment.135 There is a clear effort on the author's part to reconcile both schools of law and present them as complementary legal tools that can be used together against the common enemy: the Qalandars. The text suggests that although the ruling dynasty of the Seljuqs of Rum and many Turkmen local rulers might have had a preference for Hanafism, this did not mean that Shafiʿism was not widely present among officials and Anatolian upper classes. The reason for the increase in popularity of Shafiʿism in medieval Anatolia is difficult to trace. However, it should not be surprising, considering that, in both Syria and Egypt, Shafiʿism was widely present during the 13th century.136 Similarly, the flow of Iranian migrants into Anatolia, one of whom might be the author of the text, may also have increased the presence of Shafiʿism in medieval Anatolia. Although it is occasionally overstated, some scholars have suggested such a close similarity in practices between an increasingly dominant Shiism and Shafiʿism in medieval Iran would have made them 'indistinguishable'.137 Therefore, in building a legal argument against heresy, the *Fustat al-ʿadala* is revealing not only a presence of Shafiʿism in a predominantly Hanafi Anatolian ruling class but trying to conciliate both schools in the eyes of the local rulers of Kastamonu.

The need felt by the author to provide an informative text on the righteous practices of Islam in the region is summarised in the final lines of this section:

Nowadays *Commanding Good and Forbidding Evil* has vanished. Kings are careless of religious doctrines. It is astonishing that the religious leaders who guide us are going on the wrong path … Now, the work of religion has become bad and abject. Neither the kings, messengers, scientists nor religious leaders have taken regard of the mentioned stories.138

In sum, this section of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* tries to offer a solution to the unstoppable spread of heresy described in previous sections of the work. The solution offered to the reader is presented in references to the Quran, exemplary anecdotes contained in hadiths and the need for strict implementation of Islamic law. In all of these topics, the author seems well versed and with access to a good number of religious and secular sources. Like other sections in this work, this part of the text serves as a testimony of the author's religious knowledge and capabilities. The inclusion of the *Siyar al-muluk* ascribed to an openly Shafiʿi author such as Nizam al-Mulk in other parts of the work (see Chapter 4) and the equation of Shafiʿi and Hanafi jurisprudence to the same level of authority might be suggesting a possible affiliation of the author of the *Fustat* to the Shafiʿi school of law. However, there is no attempt to promote one school over the other but rather to reconcile these two schools by showing only points of agreement between them in punishing sinful acts. Further, the author is aware of the scant knowledge of normative Islam among his audience, making the selection of topics in this section hardly aleatory. First is the emphasis on the doctrine of *ʿamr bi al-maʿrūf* as a clear way of showing the path to be a good Muslim, then to explain what constitutes a sinful act and finally to offer a legal solution to judge and punish sinners. The text is presented as a good literary tool which aims to engage with an audience that, although Muslim in its majority by the second half of the 13th century, was possibly receiving by the commission of this work their first direct interaction with doctrinal Islam.

### **Notes**


*Archaeology, Anthropology and Heritage in the Balkans and Anatolia: The Life and Times of F.W. Hasluck, 1878–1920*, vol. 3 (Istanbul: The Isis Press, 2013), pp. 245–62.


### 166 *Islam under the Chobanids: Between heresy and the ulama*


Bukhara and Samarqand, as well as Utrar, Kashgar and Khotan. According to Atwood, Besh-Baliq is today near modern Qitai. See Christopher Atwood, *Encyclopaedia of Mongolia and the Mongol Empire* (New York: Facts on File, 2004), p. 442, and map on p. 366.


### 170 *Islam under the Chobanids: Between heresy and the ulama*

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), pp. 991–1024; Otakar Klíma, *Beiträge zur Geschichte des Mazdakismus* (Prague: Academia, 1977). On its persecution under the Sasanians, see Michelangelo Guidi and Michael G. Morony, 'Mazdak', *Encyclopaedia of Islam*, Second Edition, Vol. 6, pp. 949–52. The Qarmatians were a branch of Shia Islam close to Ismailism that flourished mostly in the 9th century. See W. Ivanow, 'Ismailis and Qarmatians', *Journal of the Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society* 16 (1940), pp. 43–85. For a section on the history of these two religious movements as described in the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, see Supplement Turc 1120, ff. 27b–48b; De Nicola, 'The *Fusṭāṭ*', pp. 56–57.


### 172 *Islam under the Chobanids: Between heresy and the ulama*


### **6 Socio-political aspects of north-western Anatolia in the 13th century**

In previous chapters, the analysis of the available textual legacy of Chobanid Kastamonu was centred mostly on the role of rulers as patrons and how these texts reflected the intentions of some of their subjects in promoting religious and cultural values to their rulers. We have reconstructed the political history of the region of Kastamonu in the 13th century (Chapter 2) and investigated aspects of patronage and religion in the chapters that followed. However, the cultural life of the elite that produced this textual legacy and promoted these values remains largely unknown because it is often not included in the main narrative sources of the period. While these narratives speak occasionally of the military and political roles of the Chobanid rulers, they are silent about those men who established, adapted and managed the administration of the Chobanid territories. These men formed a cultural elite that played a fundamental role in the consolidation of specific cultural, religious and social values that governed 13th-century Anatolia.

We have mentioned already in this book how this elite played a role in promoting a Sunni Islam with elements common to Hanafi and Shafiʿi legal traditions, how they tried to influence their Turkmen rulers in supporting a religious establishment against antinomian Sufis and how they tried to disseminate classical Persian texts and tradition among their Turkic rulers. This social class, which we call the 'Persianised elite'*,* only for their preference for writing in the Persian language, was far from homogeneous and included learned individuals of mainly Persian origin who had migrated from Central Asia, Iran and historical Azerbaijan continuously since the 12th century.1 The study of this social group is elusive in medieval Anatolian sources. However, there is a relatively abundant number of texts, within the rich textual legacy of the Chobanid period, which have so far attracted only limited attention from researchers. These texts include both diplomatic and personal letters that, together with some contemporary language vocabularies, form a corpus that can shed some light on the articulation of this elite and the consolidation of an administrative apparatus in 13th-century Kastamonu.

> DOI: 10.4324/9781351025782-7 This chapter has been made available under a CC BY 4.0 licence.

The letters are part of a literary genre generally known as *inshāʾ* which, in medieval times, referred to 'any administrative and diplomatic material produced by scribes (*kātib*s) in a chancellery (*divān*) … [including] formal correspondence among sovereigns, princes, viziers, judges, and courtiers as well as mundane appointments, royal decrees, and diplomas of investiture'.2 However, as Jürgen Paul has noted, these collections were also composed with a literary purpose or to be used as templates for the instruction of officials in the administration.3 Consequently, these texts mix fictional, ideal and real facts, which makes the use of this literature a difficult task for those aiming to find in these texts an alternative to the lack of administrative documents that exist for certain periods of pre-modern Islamic history. However, while these sources can often be unreliable in their description of events or imprecise in their chronology or identification of historical characters, they often offer a window into the ideals of administration of the court in which they were composed and some insight into the concerns of a social stratum positioned between the rulers and their subjects.4

The surviving letters from 13th-century Kastamonu that we have been able to collect can be divided into two categories. On the one hand, there are the different collections of letters written by Husam al-Din Khuʾi, an official munshi (secretary) at the Chobanid court writing templates for both official and private correspondence. On the other hand, there is a collection of 24 letters written apparently by Saʿd al-Din al-Haqq, a physician who lived in north-western Anatolia in the 13th century. Unlike the previous ones, these missives can only be found in manuscript form and present a much more chaotic but also complementary depiction of the socio-cultural environment in which some Anatolian upper classes lived in the 13th century. Both collections offer a unique literary corpus for this period that this chapter will analyse in order to investigate aspects of the socio-political transformation that was occurring in 13th-century Kastamonu.

### **6.1** *Inshāʾ* **(chancellery) literature: The evolution of a literary genre**

The tradition of letter-writing in the Islamic world began to develop in the early years of Islamic expansion in the seventh century.5 The Umayyad Empire (r. 660–750) relied on previous Byzantine and Sasanian traditions of *epistolographía* or official letter-writing that served in the administration of empire. The institutionalisation of letter-writing was quickly incorporated into the caliphal administration when the Caliph Muʿawiyya I (r. 661–80) established the 'office of correspondence' *(dīvān al-rasāʾil)*, provided with different officials 'responsible for drafting letters and presenting them for comments and approval'.6 In the Umayyad and early Abbasid periods, letterwriting went beyond the sphere of the caliphal administration to become a literary genre among men of letters such as ʿAbd al-Hamid al-Katib (d. *c.* 750) or the famous Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ (d. 757)*.* 7 By the 10th century, catalogues and treatises on epistolography had become available in Arabic, marking the beginning of a literary style known as *inshāʾ* that would eventually emerge as a popular literary genre in the medieval and early modern Islamic world.8 Based on this existing Arabic corpus, the more common use of the Persian language in literature and administration from the establishment of the Great Seljuqs as a dominant political force in the 11th century favoured the emergence of *inshāʾ* literature in Persian.9

From this period onwards, *inshāʾ* literature played an important role in the instruction of bureaucrats who were part of the Great Seljuqs' administration.10 The genre expanded across both Iran and Central Asia in the 12th century, taking on more ornate prose as the production of letter compilations (*munashaʾāt*) increased. Some works produced in this period had a more idealistic character, in which letters are used as a means to demonstrate literary skills and artistic accomplishments. For example, the *Destur-i dabiri*, written by Muhammad b. Abd al-Khaliq Mayhani (*fl.* 12th century) includes letters that, in their complexity, appear to be examples of elaborate idealistic missives with little resemblance to those that actually circulated in the court of the time.11 The *Destur-i dabiri* might not be a work of factual historical value, but the author's emphasis in providing embellished letter samples suggests a more pedagogical and literary purpose for these.12 However, other 12th-century works would have a different intended use, with a clearer aim of reproducing official letters and edicts that could serve as models for the administration of the realm. The compilation of documents titled *ʿAtabat al-kataba* by Muntajab al-Din Badiʿ ʿAli b. Ahmad Juwayni,13 who was the head of the state chancery under Sultan Sanjar (r. 1118–57), has received the attention of scholars as an important source on the Seljuq administration.14 This work is divided into two parts: those documents officially issued by the sultan (part 1) and a compendium of personal correspondence (part 2).15 As noted by Jürgen Paul, scholars have often prioritised the first over the second part, which has often been dismissed as a useful source for the period because of its 'private character'.16 This division between 'official' and 'private' letters found continuity among authors of 13th-century Anatolia, who would often divide their works between these two types of letters. For example, the author Husam al-Din Khuʾi provides in his works produced in Kastamonu examples of letter-writing commonly used both at court and in daily life.17

The empire of the Khwarazmshah (*c*. 1077–1231) in Central Asia was also a centre of *inshāʾ* production at the turn of the 13th century.18 Different volumes of official letters were compiled in various *munashaʾāt* volumes that circulated in the court. Among these works, the *Kitab al-tavassul ila al-tarassul* of Baha*ʾ* al-Din Baghdadi (*fl.* 12th century) and two works, one in Arabic and one in Persian, by Rashid al-Din Vatvat (d. 1182) have come down to us.19 The latter became especially influential for future production of epistolary literature that, from the late 12th century onwards, made its way out to the western parts of the Islamic world.20 For example, before the arrival of the Mongols in Iran, the anonymous *al-Mukhtarat min al-rasaʾil* became a useful compilation of letters and documents concerning the regions of Isfahan and western Iran, offering insights into different aspects of local administration in the area that are not often found in narrative sources.21 Similarly, other compendia of letters from the 12th century were written in western areas of the Persianate world. A *munashaʾāt* written by the famous poet Afzal al-Din Khaqani Shirvani (d. bt. 1186–99) contains 60 letters composed during the life of the author in Greater Azerbaijan.22 The letters were written in an ornate prose, including abundant original metaphors and elaborate description.23 Unlike other contemporary works considered to belong to the *inshāʾ* genre, Shirvani's work is less concerned with aspects of administration or imperial decrees. Instead, it focuses on using poetic elements to construct an elaborate prose in letters dealing with the description of natural phenomena such as the dawn, the daybreak, or the shining of the sun, to display the author's mastery of his writing style.24 The coexistence between an administrative style and a poetic or personal one is a characteristic of this literary genre that was exported to 13th-century Anatolia.25

Perhaps stimulated by the migration of many Central Asian and Iranian literati who brought copies of *munashaʾāt* with them, Anatolia also became a centre for the composition of *inshāʾ* literature during the 13th century.26 Badr al-Din al-Rumi (*fl.* 13th century) composed the *al-Tawassul ila al-tarassul*, a collection of epistolary documents addressed to different sultans of Rum, Anatolian amirs and local personalities of Malatya, Konya, or Kayseri.27 The Central Asian and Iranian influence in Anatolian *inshāʾ* of the period is clear in his work. Not only are its contents conceived as an imitation of the above-mentioned work by Baghdadi of the same title, but the only surviving copy in manuscript form of the work is bound together with a copy of the work by the Central Asian author.28 This unique manuscript was copied in Antalya in 1286 by a certain Ibn al-Falaki al-Muharrar Munfiki and contains both works bound one after the other. The fact that no other copies of the text have survived suggests that Badr al-Din's work was not widely distributed in the peninsula; however, his *munashaʾāt* is a good testimony of how influential were the men and works that migrated from Iran and Central Asia to Anatolia and how they shaped literary tastes in the peninsula. In fact, the famous Central Asian migrant Sufi Jalal al-Din Rumi (d. 1273) was also part of this tradition and wrote several letters that have been compiled in the work known as the *Maktubat*. 29

As a Sufi leader, Jalal al-Din Rumi is often portrayed in doctrinal or hagiographical sources as a leader living a solitary life removed from the world, especially after the disappearance of his companion Shams-i Tabrizi.30 However, the letters reveal aspects of Rumi's life that cannot be found either in other of his works (discourses, sermons, or poetry) or among sources produced by his followers. The *Maktubat* portrays a Rumi concerned for the well-being of members of his family and community, a leader using his political influence at the Seljuq court to help his relatives in matters of economic and communal affairs. By writing recommendations and introductory letters, he facilitated the interaction between his closer followers and potential patrons (amirs, sultans and members of the court) that provided financial aid for members of his community and occasional protection from rival Sufi groups in Anatolia.31

The *Rawdat al-kuttab wa-hadiqat al-albab*32 is a selection of letters compiled in AH 677 (1278) by Abu Bakr b. al-Zaki (d. not after 1294–95).33 Unlike Badr al-Din's work, this 13th-century *munashaʾāt* produced in Anatolia circulated more widely in the territory. Information about the author's life is scarce and we only know about him from the preface of his work and the letters included in the compendium. We know that he was born or associated with the city of Konya as he is referred to often as *al-Qunawi*, and he explains that he studied under a certain Badr al-Din Yahya (*fl.* 13th century), an officer and translator at the court of ʿIzz al-Din Kaykaʾus II (r. 1246–57).34 In his work, Ibn al-Zaki often uses the title 'al-Mutatabbib' to refer to himself; an ambiguous title referring to someone who claims to be a physician. However, some scholars have suggested that the use of this epithet might have more to do with the political connections of Ibn al-Zaki and not to his skills in medicine.35 In particular, it may allude to a connection with the famous physician Akmal al-Din Nakhjivani, a prestigious figure who is mentioned in one of Ibn al-Zaki's letters and who also appears in some of the letters composed in Kastamonu at the time.36 His letters show that Ibn al-Zaki occupied a relatively prominent position in the Seljuq court and was considered a member of the influential Anatolian Persianised elite of the 13th century. The work includes a variety of letters, some written by the author's teacher Badr al-Din Yahya and others are exchanges between Ibn al-Zaki and different personalities of Seljuq Anatolia.37 According to the preface, the letters were compiled at the request of his friends (*dustān*) who, as in the case of the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil* written by the Kastamonu author Husam al-Din Khuʾi, requested the author to provide examples of different ways of congratulating personalities.38 The work has survived in four manuscripts, three of which belong to different libraries in Turkey and one in the British Library in London.39 The multiplicity of surviving copies and the temporal continuity in the reproduction of the text during the 15th and 16th centuries mark a more massive reception of this work in relation to the previous Anatolian work by Badr al-Din al-Rumi (*fl.* 13th century).

Letter-writing became popular during the Ilkhanid and post-Ilkhanid period of Iranian history.40 An early example of *inshāʾ* literature in Ilkhanid Iran has been recently analysed by Andrew Peacock, who investigated the sofar neglected poems and letters left by Nizam al-Din al-Isfahani (*fl.* 1230–70) and his connections to the influential Juwayni family.41 Further, a number of letters attributed to the Ilkhanid vizier Rashid al-Din Fadl Allah (d. 1317) have attracted scholars' attention and generated vivid debates about their authenticity.42 Due to the status of the alleged author as a high-ranking official in the Mongol administration of Iran, it is not surprising that the contents of the letters is circumscribed to edicts of the Ilkhans and administrative subjects.43 Although the inconsistencies found in these letters suggest that they might have been compiled or even reproduced in the Timurid period, they highlight once again this genre's literary and pedagogic value, since they were cited as examples of administrative writing from the 15th century onwards. The letters were published in Lahore by Muhammad Shafi as *Mukatabat-i Rashidi* and remain a controversial source for the history of the period.44

Less controversial in its authenticity – albeit less studied by scholars in the field – are the letters produced by Shams al-Din Juwayni, the Sahib Divan of Mongol Iran.45 He served under Ilkhan Abaqa and Tegüder Ahmed, but was executed by Arghun in October 1284. He played a relevant role in the political scene of Mongol Anatolia not only as a political player, but also as an active patron of culture and architecture.46 A number of letters attributed to Shams al-Din Juwayni, but also including missives by other authors, have survived in manuscript form and were briefly analysed by Jürgen Paul some time ago.47 The main manuscript, but not the only one, containing letters is Farsça 552, an undated manuscript held at the library of the University of Istanbul.48 Like those letters attributed to Rashid al-Din, this collection contains diplomatic letters or appointments of officials from the Mongol period, but with a special interest in the style of the prose and the composition of the letters. It has been suggested that the reason behind this collection might have been an attempt to form a family archive of the Juwaynis, that represents the high status acquired not only by Shams al-Din but also by his brother ʿAta Malik.49

The collapse of the Ilkhanate in 1335 did not stop the production of *inshāʾ* literature in Iran. For example, the *Dastur al-katib fī taʿyin al-maratib*, a work designed to guide court secretaries in composing diplomatic letters and chancellery documents, was composed by Muhammad b. Hindushah Nakhjivani (*fl.* 1328–53) during the reign of Sultan Shaykh Uways (r. 1356–74) of the post-Mongol Jalayir dynasty (1335–1432).50 This work shares this objective with some of the other *inshāʾ* compendia described in this section and with some of the works composed in Kastamonu only a century before Nakhjivani. In fact, *munashaʾāt* of chancellery letters would emerge with renewed strength during the 15th century in Iran during the Timurid and Akkuyunlu empires.51 In Anatolia, *inshāʾ* remained popular in the 15th century, but with the particularity that some of these manuals began to be composed in the Turkish language, such as the *Teressül* of Ahmed Dai (active 1387–1421).52 Finally, the consolidation of dynasties such as the Ottomans in Anatolia and the emergence of the Moghul Empire in India would give a new vitality to this literary genre in the Islamic world from the second half of the 15th century onwards.53

### **6.2 An administration for the Turkmen: Husam al-Din Khu**ʾ**i and his manuals for letter-writing**

Manuals of letter-writing form the majority of works from among the textual corpus that has survived from the Chobanid reign in Kastamonu. As mentioned in Chapter 3, of the six works that we know were composed by Husam al-Din Khuʾi, four are devoted to exploring different aspects of *inshāʾ* literature and are dedicated to rulers of Kastamonu. The patronage of local rulers certainly incentivised and conditioned the production of literature in the area but it does not explain the reasons why the authors of these books decided to compose these

specific works. It is often assumed that it was the rulers' literary taste that heavily determined the literary genre produced in a certain time and region. Certainly, in the case of letter-writing, the elaborate style of the prose and the refined language in some of these works might have influenced some rulers' preference for this genre. However, literary 'taste' cannot be the only reason explaining the production of these texts. For example, when the works of Husam al-Din Khuʾi are examined as a corpus, there also seems to be a strong element of pragmatic – even didactic – purpose in his writings. This section will explore how the life's work of this author living in 13th-century Kastamonu reflects not only the life of a skilful writer in search of patronage through the literary aesthetic of his work, but also how these works had a pragmatic function that reveals aspects of the political and social transformations occurring in this region.

The appearance of *inshāʾ* literature in Kastamonu did not take place in isolation but as part of a literary context that, although incipient in the 13th century, saw the composition of works of this genre appearing in different regions of the Anatolian Peninsula. The works of Badr al-Din al-Rumi and Ibn al-Zaki, mentioned above, are clear examples of this literary context and offer some useful points of comparison in terms of the distribution, purpose and impact of these texts among different courts in Anatolia. Based on the number of manuscript copies of each of these texts that survived, there is a clear disparity in the distribution and popularity of Husam al-Din Khuʾi. For example, the *Nuzhat al-kuttab* has survived in at least 17 copies in different manuscripts distributed in collections in both Iran and Turkey. This includes a copy from the early 14th century, when the author might still have been alive, and one exemplar from the 15th century. The work also circulated widely in 17thcentury Iran and continued to be copied during the 20th century.54 However, other works by Khuʾi did not have such a widespread reception. The *Ghunyat al-talib* and the *Rusum al-rasaʾil* have only come to us in a single copy as part of the early 14th-century collection of Persian works copied in north-western Anatolia.55 It is difficult to give definitive answers on the reasons behind this uneven distribution of his works, but perhaps the fact that the *Nuzhat al-kuttab* was not only the first work composed by the author but also the most elaborate in terms of style contributed to its popularity.

The *Nuzhat al-kuttab* is conceived as a collection of letters that does not follow the same structure as those explained in the previous section of this chapter. Instead of providing full letters as examples of letter-writing, Husam al-Din Khuʾi tells us in the preface that he is attempting to provide scribes with a variety of stylish quotations in Persian and Arabic that can be used by officers in the court when composing letters.56 The work is therefore divided into four parts: part 1 – a selection of 100 views (*aghrāẓ*) of the Holy Quran on different subjects followed by a Persian translation; part 2 – a selection of 100 quotations from hadiths; part 3 – 100 pieces of eloquent advice from the caliphs on different issues, and part 4 – 100 extracts of Arabic poems with their Persian translations, on various subjects.57 The work closes with a long qasida poem in praise of Husam al-Din Khuʾi's patron Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek and praying for the stability of his kingdom.58 A more in-depth identification of the Arabic poetry and a more comprehensive analysis of the ideas conveyed by Khuʾi in his selection of poems is still awaited. However, some scholars have already ventured to highlight some similarities between the work of this author in Kastamonu and the contemporary poet Saʿdi and his famous *Gulistan*. 59 The last chapter and the qasida are especially relevant in terms of the *Nuzhat al-kuttab*'s literary quality, and certainly an aspect that might have contributed to the popularity of the text. Nonetheless, a more prosaic aspect of the work might have also played a fundamental role in maintaining the demand for this book and motivating copyists to reproduce this text up to the 20th century.

In comparison with other works produced for the Chobanid rulers, Khuʾi's works suggest that the local rulers of Kastamonu might have had a special interest in the production of *inshāʾ* literature. Unlike other authors patronised by the Chobanid rulers, such as the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, when looking at the work of Husam al-Din Khuʾi, a more overreaching purpose emerges that goes beyond the personal economic reward. As seen in different sections of this book, the reasons behind the dedication of a particular work to the Chobanid rulers are varied. On occasion, the author's prestige or the book's topic certainly played a role in the interest of the ruler in paying for the composition, as in the case of the *Ikhtiyarat-i Muzaffari* of Qutb al-Din Shirazi (d. 1311). In other instances, as in the case of the *Fustat al-ʿadala*, it seems that the authors presented works to the ruler with a double motivation. On the one hand, the text contains a clear ideological or religious message, but simultaneously served as evidence for the knowledge of the author, who might aspire to enter into the service of the ruler.60

In the case of Khuʾi, the expectation of obtaining personal benefits in his career cannot be ruled out, but the prefaces of his works offer some extra information about his motivations. Two of the seven works attributed to Khuʾi that have survived were dedicated to a ruler of Kastamonu. One is the abovementioned *Nuzhat al-kuttab* and the other the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil wa faraʾid al-fazaʾil*, composed in 1285 and dedicated to Amir Mahmud, son of Muzaffar al-Din Choban. The latter enjoyed much less popularity than the former, with only three copies surviving in Turkish and Iranian collections.61 However, the author reveals to us that both texts were composed not for the ruler's amusement, but to satisfy the need for didactic material for the court. While the first work was conceived as an outline of quotations for court scribes, the latter was done at the request of 'friends' – possibly co-workers at the court – who needed templates of diplomatic letters for court secretaries.62 It is the specific design of these works as administrative manuals which sets the writings of Husam al-Din Khuʾi apart from other compositions in this genre.

#### *6.2.1 Teaching the art of letter-writing: The* **Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil** *as a manual for scribes*

The rulers' interest in certain stylistic and laudatory aspects of Khuʾi's work might be observed in the fact that from among the works of this author, only

those texts with the most elaborate prose and complex composition were financially patronised by Chobanid rulers. On the one hand, Quranic and poetic quotations included in the *Nuzhat al-kuttab* might have been appealing for their stylistic and religious value for rulers who used patronage to portray an image of a local court in transition from a military frontier amirate into a more complex Islamic dynasty. On the other hand, the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil* not only includes template letters that might be used as guides for scribes, but simultaneously praises the military and religious deeds of the Chobanid dynasty of Kastamonu. An example is the letter included in chapter 4 of the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil* and entitled *Fatihnama* (Victory Letter).63 The letter is a celebratory account of the conquest of the castles of Gideros by Muzaffar al-Din Yavlak Arslan from the Byzantines in Rajab AH 683 (October 1284).64 Containing specific references to how the castles were conquered and to jihad as one motivation behind the campaign, the letter offers some interesting insights into the role played by local Turkmen rulers such as the Chobanids in the expansion of Islam against the Byzantines in the later 13th century.65 The inclusion of this letter serves to enhance the patron's pedigree and perhaps copies of the missive circulated within the Chobanid territory to celebrate the conquest.

In addition to these laudatory representations of his patron, one chapter of the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil* is particularly useful to show that the work of Husam al-Din Khuʾi was not conceived only as literature for the ruler's amusement but had an important practical component in affairs of state. For example, the documents accompanying the *Fatihnama* deal with different aspects of the administration of the court that could be a useful tool in the administration of the realm. This chapter includes ten short documents that serve as templates with information on different posts in the administration, explaining the duties of the posts and why they are needed for the better functioning of the government. The first document is an exposition on the leader of the army (*taqrīr-i ziʿāmat lishkār*), which functions as a template for the appointment of a military general.66 Similar to the jihadi tone used in the previous letter, the document mentions that the realm cannot flourish (*bārvar*) without the help of the men of battle (*bī iʿānat-i mardān-i kārzār*), who bring victory to the supporters of Islam (*anṣār-i Islām*) and destroy the armies of the enemies of religion (*aḥzāb-i aʿdāʾ-yi dīn*).67 If this document makes a case for the importance of expanding Islam and the territories of the realm, the document that immediately follows is more concerned with its protection, as it is a template for the appointment of the office of the *kutvālī* or guardian of a castle.68 Unlike with the *Fatihnama*, no specific references to individuals or places are given. Instead, both documents share the characteristic of being prepared for customisation by a secretary or officer once the appointment is made. To that end, a full list of possible honorific titles given to the appointee and the name of places where the commander will be appointed (in the first document) or the castle (in the second) is left undefined and appears in the text with the term *fulān*. 69

The works of Khuʾi offer an insight into aspects of the government of Chobanid Kastamonu that reflect an attempt to articulate a complex administrative system that serves the needs of a territory undergoing political, economic and religious transformation. The remaining templates in this fourth chapter of the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil* deal with appointments that can be categorised as urban administration not generally associated with Turkmen rulers in 13th-century Anatolia. These appointments are divided into two groups: one considered to be of higher rank and including – in addition to the already mentioned leader of the army and guardian of the castle – the deputy of a city *(niyābat-i shahr*), the office of the governor (*iyālat*) and the appointment of administrator/chatelain (*kadkhudāyī*) and nobles (*ashrāf*).70 In the second group appear the office of teaching or instruction (*tadrīs*), the office of physicians (*ṭabībī*), the office of preachers (*khaṭābat*), office of the restorer of shrines (*iʿāda*)71 and the office of the succession (*tavālat*) in charge of endowments.72 Khuʾi gives a short description of each post and a brief enumeration of the characteristics held by the person appointed, and includes different formulas that highlight a growing need for administrators of urban settlements.

For example, those officials in the higher ranks such as the office of the *niyābat-i shihr* should make the city flourish (*vilayāt-i maʿmūr*), or that of the *iyālat*, who must protect both Muslims (*muslamān*) and non-Muslims (*ẕimmī*) in the city while setting straight corrupt (*ta'dīb mufsidān*) and sinful (*ashrār*) people.73 In the case of the lower ranks, the person appointed to the office of the *tadrīs* should use his knowledge of independent judgement (*ijtihād*) in the instruction of students (*ṭalibah-i ʿulūm*), while the head physician (*ṭabībī*), should cure (*maṣrūf dāshtan*)74 the sick (*marẓá*) by prescribing drug recipes (*nuskha-yi ādwiya*) based on the knowledge he obtains from books written by great men )*kitb-i ākābar*) and his wise predecessors (*ḥukamay-yi salaf*).75 The remaining three offices should, respectively, take care of the word of religion by delivering sermons, protect buildings of worship (mosques), and safeguard endowments left by people to religious institutions.76 The text highlights that the duty of the *khaṭābat* is especially important since preaching (*khaṭābat*) and taking the lead in religious matters (*imāmat*) is among the chief deeds (*muʿazzamāt-i umūr*) and great affairs (*jalīl-i ashghāl*) of the Hanafi people (*milat-i ḥanafī*).77

According to Colin P. Mitchell, *inshāʾ* literature can be defined as a 'hybrid vehicle of creative expression' that allowed the author to express his literary talents in the composition of state correspondence and personal missives while still remaining 'a vehicle of instruction for court secretaries and administrators'.78 This definition fits perfectly with the works of Husam al-Din Khuʾi, who in addition to a concern for stylistic features and elaborate prose, had a clear didactic and practical purpose in his composition. If the fourth part of the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil* includes letters of appointments already written down as templates, the first three parts of this work offer more practical information for the composition of different letters useful at court. This suggests that Khuʾi's work was conceived with his having in mind different

levels of instruction among the officials that could use this material. For example, part one (*qism aval*) includes a guide on rules for letter-writing and explanations on how letters should be arranged (*tartīb*).79 For that purpose, the work includes a list of different titles (*alqāb*) of potential addressees and the corresponding salutation (*duʿā*) required to be used depending on the rank of the letter's recipient. Further, a description of the wishes (*ishtiyāq*) behind the writing of the letter and a final request for a meeting (*mulāqāt*) concludes the explanation on how letters should be arranged. The list of titles (Table 6.1) from which the scribe can clearly identify the rank of the person to whom he is writing is organised in two categories (*ṣinf*). Each of these categories is further divided into different strata (*ṭabaqāt*) that comprise a hierarchical organisation of addressees depending on socio-political rank.80

The stratification of society in these ranks is not a reflection of 13thcentury Anatolia but the projection of an ideal model.81 This organisation of court ranks and epithets relies on a traditional Seljuq structure of government that was widespread in Anatolia not only in the 13th century but that remained popular later in the Ottoman court.82 Khuʾi uses these categories to introduce formulas and salutations useful for scribes at the court in Kastamonu, but these epithets should not be taken as a clear-cut reflection of the Chobanid administration's organisation.83 Instead, the work is a guide for teaching the art of letter-writing to scribes in Kastamonu. The first category includes those ranks with military, administrative and economic responsibilities, divided into two strata with different areas of influence. The higher stratum includes imperial ranks such as the sultan, his wife, or maliks, while the lower stratum includes those ranks with similar responsibilities but subordinated to the higher stratum and circumscribed to smaller territories or areas of the kingdom. The second category is reserved for lower ranks, with a higher stratum composed by religious authorities and a final stratum including professionals and those of 'the class of scholars, wise men, astronomers, poets, men of letters and their disciples'.84 The inclusion of family members in this category is also interesting because it confirms, as we will see in a later section of this chapter, that letter-writing was not circumscribed to members of the court but was a widespread activity among members of the 13th-century Anatolian elites. However, the fact that Khuʾi presented this organisation of the administration to the amir of Kastamonu offers an interesting insight into the influence that the classical Seljuq administration structure had in medieval Anatolia.

The first part of this work concludes with a detailed explanation on aspects more connected to the scholarly discipline of diplomatics (the analysis of historical documents), or to the conventions that need to be followed in the composition of letters. Examples include the location of titles (*al-minwānāt*), prayers (*al-daʿwāt*), or sections of the Quran (*al-maqāṭiʿ*) as well as explaining different aspects of the recording of dates (*tārīkh*) in letters.85 The second part of the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil* continues with the author's intention to provide resources for official scribes. He mentions that in part two he includes different

### 184 *Socio-political aspects of 13th-century north-western Anatolia*


*Table 6.1* Stratification of titles according to the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil*

pieces of art (*maṣnūʿ*), such as proverbs (*amṣāl*), couplets (*ābiyāt*) of poems and short letters (*riqāʿ*), so that the writer (*kātib*) will know (*maʿlūm kunad*) and use them for the writing of eloquent (*balāghat*) letters.86 Khuʾi includes couplets by poets such as Abu Najm Ahmad b. Qaws Manuchihri Damghani (d. 1041),87 Jamal al-Din b. al-ʿAziz,88 or Jamal al-Din Ismaʾil,89 mixed with couplets that can be used to refer poetically to the seasons of the year or short texts that offer examples of uses of metaphors (*istiʿārat*), word relations (*tanāsub*) and comparisons (*tashbīhāt*).

The third part also has a strong component of pedagogy and includes samples of letters that can be used in the composition of *inshāʾ*. However, in this case, Khuʾi mentions that he designed this section to help scribes who need to be 'in dialogue with friends' (*dar muqāvaẓāt-i ikhvān*).90 He includes ten letters with their corresponding replies on different topics, as they should be written between friends. The topics include aspects of daily life such as congratulation, inauguration, desire to see the other, intercession, condemnation, asking for favour, gratitude and appreciation, complaint, visit, or condolences. However, despite being ideal letters between friends, the language used in these letters is by no means colloquial. Instead, Khuʾi uses an elaborate prose that intertwines with couplets of poetry to illustrate the points made in the letter. In fact, as is common in *inshāʾ* literature, the display of stylistic literary style is more important in the letters than the actual transmission of a message.

#### *6.2.2 Theory into practice: Building a chancellery in medieval Kastamonu*

Apart from a few isolated records noting the establishment of *zāwiya* by *akhī*s in the early 14th century mentioned in Chapter 1, there are, to my knowledge, no administrative documents surviving from the period of Chobanid rule in Kastamonu. This opens a debate over whether the manuals of letter-writing of Husam al-Din Khuʾi were ever put into use during the 13th century. Surely, in the case of the *Fatihnama* letter describing the conquest of the Castle of Gideros, the missive was used to praise the victory of the Chobanid ruler and might have served as a diplomatic document to circulate in the court, or even to be sent to other courts in Anatolia. However, the fact that Khuʾi's works contains all these instructions on how to write letters does not prove that all this knowledge ever passed from theory into practice, in the sense that large numbers of diplomatic letters were produced in Chobanid Kastamonu. Nonetheless, even if the distribution of these letters was limited, the composition of this body of material acquires historical relevance not only for the works' contents, but also for the context in which they were created in 13thcentury Kastamonu.

Unfortunately, manuscript Fatih 5406, dated 1309 CE and possibly copied in the Kastamonu region, is the only written document that has survived to the present which can be traced back to Chobanid Anatolia. Like many other medieval Islamic manuscripts, this codex not only includes a main text at the centre of the page, but many folios include annotations on the margins that can occasionally be revealing about how the codex was used during its lifetime.91 The majority of manuscripts produced in medieval Anatolia use marginalia in three main ways. Firstly, they can include another work, often related in terms of subject, or a commentary on the main text or another work by the same author. Consequently, in this case, the margins have an economic value, where this part of the codex is used as a support in times when paper was an

expensive commodity. Secondly, marginalia might be used as a place to introduce corrections to the main text made by the copyist of the manuscript or a later owner of the book. Finally, this space has been used to include an interpretation (generally by a later reader) on aspects mentioned in the main text, offering proof that the text has been used and reflecting valuable information about the continuity and change of ideas in the period. However, in the case of Ms. Fatih 5406, many of the annotations are of a different kind. Instead of commenting on the main text, they offer alternative versions of paragraphs or sentences that are mentioned in the main text. These annotations are different from corrections done by copyists and suggest that the person writing in the margins was adding alternative ways of saying the same thing, or practising alternative formulas for writing letters. These annotations, however, are not in the same hand as the main text and, according to a note at the end of the manuscript, appear to have been written some 50 years after the text was published.92 This suggests, in accordance with the pedagogic purpose of *inshāʾ* literature, that the use made of this manuscript – and the texts included in it – exceeded the simple transmission of the main text and served as a source of inspiration and training to people 50 years after the main text had been copied. Similarly, this manuscript is a testimony of the continuity in chancellery practices in medieval Kastamonu, since a text composed at the peak of Chobanid cultural activity in the 1280s, copied during the transition period in the first decade of the 14th century, was still being used during the early decades of the Jandarid dynasty.

In attesting to what extent Khuʾi's texts were meant to be used in the administration and not remain only as a theoretical exercise, a more holistic approach to the complete work of Khuʾi might be revealing. Apart from the pedagogic and literary role played by *inshāʾ* literature in medieval Anatolia in training munshis and officials, the literary corpus left by Husam al-Din Khuʾi offers hints of the development of an incipient administration of Chobanid Kastamonu. Each of Khuʾi's works offers examples, terminologies, templates and instructions that serve different purposes for officials and students of the court. Yet, when looking at them as a group, it is clear that there is a supplemental element in each text, suggesting that they were meant to be used as complements to one another. For example, both the *Rusum al-rasaʾil* and the *Ghunyat al-talib* are abridged versions of the more elaborate *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil*. However, these shorter texts not only rely upon the more elaborated one, but also complement the information by introducing aspects such as alternative appointments (*taqrīr*) of government that seem to be more appropriate to the local administration of provincial areas such as 13th-century Kastamonu.93 For example, the *Rusum al-rasaʾil* contains specific models for distributing fiefs (*ziʿāmat*) among leaders and one specifically for members of the chancellery (*inshāʾ*), with a particular emphasis on the economic provision that these posts require.94 These abridged works were not composed for rulers, as were the more elaborate *Nuzhat al-kuttab* or the *Qawaʿid al-rasaʾil*. Instead, these shorter works were dedicated to the author's friends (possibly colleagues in the administration) and his son Nasr Allah, whom he might have been trying to promote within the Chobanid court (see Chapter 3). This suggests a demand for a more pragmatic and less complex manual for letter-writing, which relies more on local appointments and economic aspects of the posts, rather than a more elaborate and sophisticated work reserved for the ruler's library. Further, as Osman Turan has suggested, the models of letter-writing included in Khuʾi's abridged works of *inshāʾ* might have been created anew by the author. There is a possibility that the appointments were copied by Khuʾi from original documents, omitting the names of the appointees and the amount of their salaries, to be reused as models for new appointments.95 If so, this implies that administrative documents were already in circulation and were accessible in 13th-century Kastamonu at least before AH 690 (1291), when the earliest of the two abridged versions (the *Rusum al-rasaʾil*) was composed.

In addition to manuals of letter-writing for different audiences, Khuʾi wrote one (possibly two) vocabularies that deserve to be mentioned within the corpus because of the role they played in supporting scribes and members of the administration in writing decrees, appointments and diplomatic letters. These two works have a clearer practical purpose, which supports the idea that the manuals of *inshāʾ* were not composed only for their literary value. However, the two vocabularies are different to one another in terms of composition, structure and certainty about the authorship. One of these works, the *Nasib alfityan*, was conceived as a manual for teaching the Arabic language modelled on a similar vocabulary, the *Nisab al-sibyan* of Abu Nasr Farahi (*fl.* 13th century), in Arabic with interlineal Persian translation aimed at the instruction of children.96 The rendition of Khuʾi, instead, consists of 550 quatrains in Persian divided into 50 sections with titles in Arabic referring to the names of God, the Prophet and Imams, and other untitled poems.97 Khuʾi is clearly mentioned in all sources as the author of this work, but he only wrote the Persian part of the text, while the Arabic section was taken directly from Farahi's work. In other words, he only composed this book as a tool to teach Arabic to the reader and used the Persian terminology he considered appropriate for the readers in late 13th-century Kastamonu.98 The other vocabulary presents more challenges in terms of authorship. As we saw in Chapter 3, there is disagreement among scholars in attributing this work either to Husam al-Din Khuʾi or to Husam al-Din Qunawi (*fl.* 1400). Nonetheless, the work's significance is worth considering until further research is carried out and a definitive answer be given to the question of authorship. The *Tuhfa-yi Husam* is a Persian–Turkish vocabulary that, in a similar way to the *Nasib al-fityan,* is also presented as a poem but in each verse the Persian word is followed by its Turkish correlation or vice versa as in the way of modern dictionaries. For example:99

Sitārah **Ūlūz**100 (star) va Khūrshīd **Gunish**101 (the sun)102 Tabar **bāltā**, <sup>103</sup> **qīlīj** 104 shamshīr (axe) va tīr **ukh**105 (arrow) 106

As in these examples, words are not randomly grouped but they rather keep a thematic coherence that allows for an easier association of words. This

arrangement favours the educational aim of these poems, which in general have a lower stylistic quality than a poetic divan or other literary compositions. However, some authors have suggested that in the case of this work, the primary aim of presenting a correlation between, for example, Persian and Turkish words has been achieved without neglecting stylistic elements in the composition of the poems.107 Beyond the higher or lower stylistic value of these vocabularies vis-à-vis other works of their kind, neither of these two works by Khuʾi was designed for literary amusement. Instead, they were useful linguistic tools for a group of scribes in need of language proficiency in a developing administration, where Persian appears to have been the common denominator between the popular Turkish and the elevated Arabic.

Overall, Khuʾi's corpus served multiple purposes. The majority of his works were part of the *inshāʾ* genre that was widely patronised by rulers as a literary genre across Anatolia and Iran for centuries. In addition, some of his works were written in an elaborated prose to be appealing to the patronage of rulers who were invested in financing the production of Persian writings. These included laudatory letters portraying his patron as a victorious military commander in the face of infidel Christians, or featuring selected quotations from the Quran and classical poetry. But simultaneously, his works also fulfilled the more prosaic purpose of providing manuals of chancellery that were useful tools in the establishment of a courtly administration for the Chobanids of Kastamonu. This incipient court appears to have been diverse in terms of the preparation and skills of officials working for the Turkmen rulers of Kastamonu. On the one hand, some officials were able to benefit from ready-made templates where the word *fulān* could be replaced with the needed name or place, or lists of honorific titles, or examples of post salaries that were provided to facilitate the job of the scribes. Parts of Khuʾi's work suggests that some munshis were better prepared in the art of administration than others. The composition of abridged versions of his more elaborate works to be distributed among his colleagues suggests the possibility of a practical use of Khuʾi's work in the administration of the territory. Making use of these manuals, scribes might have been able to compose letters on their own by using these texts as a guide. They could have used the corpus to search for the meaning of certain titles or salutation formulas, guides on post remuneration, or the translation of specific terms using the vocabulary(ies) he composed.

Although none of these administrative documents from the Chobanid period have survived to this day, manuscript evidence suggests that Khuʾi's works were used effectively in the region and played a fundamental role in training officials during the 14th century. In their complexity, the works of Husam al-Din Khuʾi offer a window into how the chancery of the Chobanids might have worked and highlight that there was a need for material that could help in the instruction of new officials. They also show that there was a commitment to the training of scribes, secretaries and chancery scribes. His works have a thematic coherence where protocols of chancellery writing, decrees of appointments or aspects of financial administration were combined with elaborate poetry, quotations from the Quran and multilingual vocabularies upon which to build an administrative apparatus for a region that, in the 13th century, was a remote borderland in the far western corner of the Islamic world.

### **6.3 Personal letters: A unique view on the socio-cultural history of 13th-century northern Anatolia**

In Chobanid Kastamonu, letter-writing was a literary genre that transcended court and government circles to be used among wider groups in the society of medieval Anatolia. While munshis and court officials like Khuʾi or Zaki were composing manuals for letter-writing, there is evidence that letters were not only the way in which some individuals communicated with one another but were also used as a resource to express professional, religious and literary curiosities in medieval Anatolia. The compilation of personal letters (*munashaʾāt*) is well documented in the early Ottoman period and continued to be widely popular in Turkey into the 17th century.108 Although the availability of these sources is comparatively limited for 13th-century Anatolia, one surviving example of these compendia has survived in manuscript form.109 This work includes 24 letters mostly in Persian but with a widespread use of Arabic, and dealing with different topics mixing prose and poetry. The work was first mentioned by Osman Turan, who included a broad description of the text in his larger study on letter-writing in Seljuq Anatolia.110 After this initial description, the work remained largely neglected until recently.111 The only copy of the work can be found in the already mentioned Ms. Fatih 5406, bound together with copies of Khuʾi's works. Textual and codicological evidence suggests that this work was composed in northern Anatolia during the Chobanid period, making this compendium a unique source for our understanding of life under Chobanid rule. This *munashaʾāt*, containing material primarily of a literary and personal nature, gives us insights into the intellectual and political climate of the times while providing evidence about the social networks and habits of individuals – perspectives notably lacking in most bureaucratic and narrative sources.

We do not know the name of the compiler of the letters; nor is the identity of the copyist revealed in the colophon of the manuscript, which mentions only that the manuscript was copied in the year AH 709 (1309–10). 112 However, it is plausible that both the scribe and the compiler are the same person, who may have decided to include a copy of these more personal letters at the end of the manuscript to accompany the text of Khuʾi and a copy of the *Nasihat al-muluk* that opens the collection of works included in the codex. The production of the manuscript itself is an interesting aspect to take into account. This compendium of personal letters is bound together with three works on *inshāʾ* written by the above-mentioned Husam al-Din Khuʾi.113 Therefore, the production of the manuscript shows a thematic consistency when binding together four works containing letters by two local authors of northern Anatolia to accompany a copy of the famous *Nasihat al-muluk*, a mirror for princes composed almost 200 years before the production of the manuscript. However, as we saw in Chapter 4, mirrors for princes seem to have been highly popular not only in Anatolia but also in Kastamonu. Consequently, from the point of view of content, this manuscript presents a coherent selection of the type of literature that was popular in the Chobanid realm.

The specific inclusion of the *munashaʾāt* in the codex, however, might have served a dual purpose. On the one hand, it might have offered to the developing administration of the Chobanids further letter-templates that, with a more personal tone, complement in terms of structure and vocabulary those examples included in Khuʾi's works. On the other hand, although this is in the realm of speculation, personal agency on the part of the compiler/scribe cannot be ruled out. The compiler might have decided to include these writings to enhance the reputation of the author of the letters, whose name is given in the work as Saʿd al-Din al-Haqq. After his name, the anonymous compiler mentions that the author is a medical doctor by profession but also as a master (*mawlana*), teacher and someone knowledgeable of the world (*ustazna ʿallām al-ʿalam*).114 The use of these titles suggests that the author and the compiler of the letters might have had a close relationship, where the latter might have been a disciple or a follower of the former.115 Hence, this master–disciple relationship might also explain the inclusion of these letters as the final work in this manuscript. Although the copy of the text dates from the early 14th century, the descriptions offered in the letters and the identification of some of the characters included in the text suggest that the letters might have been composed around the middle of the 13th century, some fifty years before the manuscript was copied.116

The letters also offer some additional information about the character of the author and allow us to partially reconstruct aspects of his life. According to his own account in one of the first letters in the compendium, Saʿd al-Din was appointed to work as a physician in Zalifre (modern Safranbolu), a town around a hundred kilometres south-west of Kastamonu.117 Zalifre was a small town in the political orbit of Kastamonu and, for most of the 13th century, a border zone in permanent dispute between Byzantium and the Chobanids.118 Since the establishment of Turkmen groups in the area in the 11th century, the majority of the population might have lived in rural areas – whether they were Turkmen groups or Christian farmers – and the town of Zalifre might not have been more than a small fortress. In this context, Saʿd al-Din refers to this area as a desolate place (*mawtin-i nuzūl*), where he cannot find friends or companions (*jalis*) or a professional guild (*asnāf*) with whom to mingle. This rather unenthusiastic depiction of the location of his new job suggests that he was not only from a different region but that he was more accustomed to an urban lifestyle.119

In addition to a coherent thematic arrangement of works to explain the reasons why these more intimate letters might have been included in manuscript Fatih 5406, there seems to be a personal connection between the author of these letters and Husam al-Din Khuʾi, the author of three other works included in this manuscript. There has been some speculation recently over the possibility that some letters included in this *munashaʾāt* might have been directed to Husam al-Din Khuʾi himself.120 This assumption rests on the fact that some letters included in this compendium are addressed to a person named as Husam al-Din.121 The general reference to the name is not a clear indication of this person's identity, but one of the letters written in response to this Husam al-Din describes him as *al-shāʿir* (the poet). Most importantly though, the letter also refers to the addressee as *Malik al-shuʿarāʾ* (King of Poets), a flamboyant title clearly intended to elevate the status and perhaps flatter the recipient of the missive.122 Javad Bashari claims that the same title is used to refer to Husam al-Din Khuʾi in a couplet (*ʿarūẓ*) he saw in two manuscripts containing poetry compilations dated from the mid-14th and mid-15th centuries.123 If Bashari is correct, it would not be very surprising that Husam al-Din Khuʾi was the addressee of letters included in this *munashaʾāt*. After all, these letters were written in northern Anatolia by Saʿd al-Din, a person who was sent to Kastamonu, travelled in the Chobanid territories and might have been in touch with Husam al-Din Khuʾi, who was an established member of the Chobanid court apparatus and had been a prolific author since the beginning of the 1280s.

Further, additional evidence as to the identification of this Husam al-Din can be found in some other letters included in this *munashaʾāt*. Like the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* mentioned in Chapter 4, Saʿd al-Din uses these letters as a 'calling card' or the modern equivalent of a curriculum vitae to present to influential and powerful Anatolian personalities – the amirs, sultans and members of the court. He constantly tries to prove his literary and poetic skills to Husam al-Din by sending him poems in Persian and Arabic, revealing that although Persian was Saʿd al-Din's main literary language, he nonetheless had a good command of Arabic and a knowledge of the Quran, hadiths and classical Persian literature.124 For example, in one of the letters addressed to Husam al-Din, Saʿd al-Din includes a personal commentary on the *Marzbannama*, a work composed only a few decades before by Saʿd-al-Din Varavini (*fl.* 1210–25), who dedicated this work to Abu al-Qasim Harun, the vizier of the Eldiguzid Atabek Uzbek b. Muhammad (r. 1210–25) of Azerbaijan.125 In other letters, he makes an effort to demonstrate his acquaintance with the stories of mythical Persian kings such as Jamshid and makes references to the poem 'Khusraw and Shirin' and the *Shahnama* of Firdawsi, demonstrating a deep knowledge of these masterpieces of Persian literature.126 He also includes references to unidentified pieces of literature or uses the letters to share his own compositions in both prose and verse.127 Therefore, since Husam al-Din Khuʾi was the munshi of the Chobanid court, a well-known poet and writer and an influential member of the court administration, it is highly probable that this group of letters were addressed to him. Nevertheless, perhaps the definitive proof to certify the connection between the two men is the fact that Saʿd al-Din also wrote a letter to a certain Nasr Allah, who is mentioned as the son of

the Husam al-Din he addresses in the other letters.128 As we saw in Chapter 3, Husam al-Din Khuʾi dedicated his *Ghunyat al-talib wa munyat al-katib* to his son, named Nasr Allah.129 These are too many coincidences not to conclude that we agree with Bashari that the Husam al-Din of the letters is Husam al-Din Khuʾi and that there was a close interaction between him and Saʿd al-Din al-Haqq.

His uneasiness with the rural environment of north-western Anatolia, his command of Persian and Arabic, his knowledge of Islamic and Persian classical literature and his capacity to compose his own literary works suggest that Sa'd al-Din might have been a medical doctor by profession, but he also belonged to a distinctive social class widespread in medieval Anatolia. This was a class of urban Persianised men, migrants from Iran and Central Asia that included others such as Husam al-Din Khuʾi or the author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* mentioned in Chapter 5. But his contact with some of his peers did not prevent him from feeling somehow lonely in the rural environment of medieval Kastamonu. The solitude and isolation felt by Saʿd al-Din is among the reasons that encouraged him to travel in northern Anatolia on a journey that included visits to cities such as Kastamonu, Sinop, Niksar, Samsun and Bafra, which can be reconstructed based on the accounts included in the letters.130 His letters offer uneven descriptions of the places he visited. For example, he dedicates a few quatrains to the city of Sinop:


He adds that the city is such a wonderful place to visit because it is possible to find girls of different origins such as Rus, Alani, Rumi and Qipchaq, who are dressed in such elegant clothes that they look as if they were from Khalaj132 or Kashmir.133 However, the letters mention almost nothing about the other cities he visited on his travels, as it seems producing a description of Anatolian geography was not Saʿd al-Din's main concern.

His motivations for embarking on such a journey in northern Anatolia were of a different kind. On the one hand, the letters reveal an anxiety for professional recognition and favourable economic remuneration for his services. This includes his skills as a medical doctor, which, as mentioned above, was the reason why he was sent to the region of Kastamonu in the first place. However, other letters in the compendium narrate how during his trips, Saʿd al-Din received an assignment from the amir of Samsun,134 to go into Christian territories, referred to as the *dār al-kufr* (land ruled by infidels), in the nearby region of Canik to practise medicine.135 Like other Persianised members of medieval Anatolian society, Saʿd al-Din was employable not only for his knowledge of medicine but for his literacy, multilingualism and knowledge of religious sciences.136 For example, the compendium includes a number of letters sent by Saʿd al-Din to a certain Imad al-Din, whom Osman Turan identifies as Imad al-Din Zanjani (d. 1281–82), suggesting a close relationship between the two men.137 In one of these letters, Saʿd al-Din mentions that Imad al-Din offered him the position of *fuqahā'* (expert in jurisprudence) in the office of the Head of Religious Endowments (*Daftar-i dīvān-i awqāf*), presumably at the Seljuq court.138 Although he would politely turn the offer down, this is evidence of how either the court of the sultanate or an incipient administration such as that of the Chobanids was in need of literate men who, having professional training in a discipline such as medicine, could still be a valuable asset in various administrative posts. Certainly, Saʿd al-Din was not an isolated case, with many Persian-speaking migrants being documented as moving into Anatolia in search of patronage and better working conditions (see Chapter 1). Hence, in this context, we can see further evidence of the practical use that the manuals of *inshāʾ* literature composed by Husam al-Din Khuʾi could have had in facilitating the incorporation of men such as Saʿd al-Din into the developing local administration of Chobanid Kastamonu.

Although it might be part of a literary topos, reading these letters suggests that there was also a more personal motivation behind the author's travels. On different occasions, Saʿd al-Din expresses, generally in a poetic way, a need to be reunited with his friends (*dustān*) and master (*khudavand-i mushfiq*).139 In different missives, the author makes constant use of terms such as *firāq* (separation) and *wi*ṣā*l* (reunite) to express the constant feeling of estrangement and desire to rejoin his beloved companions (*dustdar*).140 This terminology is very similar to that found in other surviving Sufi texts produced in 13th-century Anatolia and documented among followers of Jalal al-Din Rumi (d. 1273).141 For example, Sultan Valad (d. 1312), the son of Jalal al-Din Rumi, uses the term *firāq* (separation) in a similar way as Saʿd al-Din, to describe the feeling of separation endured by his father when he was not in the company of his companion Shams-i Tabrizi (d. *c*. 1240).142 The vocabulary of love used in these letters is shorn of erotic connotations in this period and became common in communications between Sufis and spread into broader circles. There is no compelling evidence in the letters to state that Saʿd al-Din was a member of the Mevlevi order, or that he personally followed the teachings of Jalal al-Din Rumi. However, Saʿd al-Din lived at the same time as the Sufi master and we have evidence that they knew people in common who attended Sufi gatherings in Konya with Rumi.143 Hence, it seems fair to suggest that Saʿd al-Din shared, at least partially, the same intellectual-Sufi circles of 13th-century Anatolia that included Jalal al-Din Rumi and his early followers.

A look at the individuals mentioned in the letters reveals that the author belonged to a network of professional, literate and religious individuals in contact with one another. For example, well-known physicians that we know lived in medieval Anatolia are mentioned in some of the letters. At the beginning of the compendium, a number of letters are addressed to a certain Sharaf al-Din, who is referred to as a friend and master.144 This person has been identified, with a relative degree of certainty, as Sharaf al-Din Yaʿqub, a medical doctor in the service of Rukn al-Din Kılıç Arslan and Ilkhan Abaqa (d. 1282) during the mid-13th century.145 In these letters, the author reports to Sharaf al-Din, informing him that he has arrived safely at his destination in Kastamonu to take up his post as a doctor. This suggests that Saʿd al-Din, the author of the letters, might have been not only a disciple of Sharaf al-Din, but also someone whose job was assigned by the head physician of the Seljuq court. This is an interesting aspect because it reveals a closer interaction between the Seljuq court in Konya and border areas such as Kastamonu in the middle of the 13th century that is generally not mentioned in the main sources of the period. Further, in another letter, whose recipient is not mentioned by name but is addressed to a sultan (possibly Rukn al-Din) and asks for permission to join his court while travelling with the intention of meeting a certain 'Akmal al-Mulla va al-Din'.146 It seems clear that this person was Akmal al-Din Tabib Nakhjivani (*fl.* 13th century), who, as mentioned above, was a court physician in close contact with Abu Bakr b. al-Zaki (d. not after 1294–95), the author of the *Rawzat al-kuttab va hadiqat al-albab*. 147

Although there are indications in the letters that Saʿd al-Din was a migrant from Iran or Azerbaijan, we do not have enough elements to clearly categorise as belonging to a particular 'ethnic' or 'cultural' category using Iranian, Turkish, Persian, or any other anachronistic terminology. As seen in Chapter 1, ethnic and cultural divisions were fluid in medieval Anatolia. However, the letters reflect a close interaction between a professional doctor, with a strong knowledge of Persian and Arabic literature, and a range of local rulers in the peninsula. During his travels, Saʿd al-Din is dispatched by the amir of Samsun to practise medicine in Christian lands and was close to the inner circle of court physicians in the Seljuq court. However, these are not the only interactions with local rulers that emerge from reading these letters. For example, on one occasion, Saʿd al-Din mentions to a friend that he plans to continue in the service (*khidma*) of Amir Sharaf al-Din Mahmud.148 Another letter mentions that he received a job offer from Amir Majd al-Din of Erzincan, who invited Saʿd al-Din to come to that city to enter into his service, but the physician eventually had to respectfully decline the invitation.149 Further, in another missive, Saʿd al-Din might be appealing to Ali Bey b. Mehmet (r. 1262–77), the father of the founder of the Inanjid principality in south-western Anatolia.150 In this case, the letter explains Saʿd al-Din's frustration at not receiving a response to an offer of his services from the ruler.151 It is interesting, however, that the letters not only contain references to prestigious job offers and appointments, but show the occasional struggles that these individuals might have endured in searching for a position in medieval Anatolia. In my view, this might offer an idea about the intended reader of these letters. Some of the common topics in the letters, such as accounts of close interaction with local rulers and important personalities, narration of constant struggles to secure a job and constant references to the feeling of being uprooted and not being able to reunite with a spiritual community would be appealing for members of this Persianised social class living in Anatolia. Incidentally, they would also be the same people using Husam al-Din Khuʾi's works on letter-writing that accompany Saʿd al-Din's letters in manuscript Fatih 5406.

The letters are a rare testimony of an individual who had a close interaction with the Seljuq Sultan, local Turkmen amirs and influential members of the court. They reveal that behind letter-writing in medieval Anatolia, there was a social class of literate Persianised men whose professional capabilities were required across the territory and used their literary skills to obtain different posts both in the Seljuq court and at emerging administration of local dynasties in peripheral regions. Men such as Saʿd al-Din, Husam al-Din Khuʾi, Qutb al-Din Shirazi, or the anonymous author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* belonged to this class of culturally Persian migrants that saw in Anatolia a land of professional but also spiritual opportunity. These men were not only professionals that knew the arts of writing but, as shown by the letters of Saʿd al-Din, were closely connected to Sufi circles and engaged in literary and artistic activities. The letters produced by some of these individuals became popular in 13thcentury Anatolia and served as templates for training munshis and officials, were used as means for communication, and also used to express different artistic and spiritual curiosities. Together, these *inshāʾ* and personal compendia provide a unique insight into socio-cultural dynamics of the period that often are absent from era's main narratives.

### **Notes**


*and Munshīs Based on Original Documents* (Calcutta: Iran Society, 1971); Mansura Haidar (ed.), *Mukātabāt-i-ʻAllāmī (Inshā'i Abu'l Faẓl): Letters of the Emperor Akbar in English Translation* (New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research, 1998); Jürgen Paul, 'Anonyme arabische und persische inšāʾ Handschriften aus den Sammlungen der Süleymaniye-Bibliothek (Istanbul)', *Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft* 144 (1994), pp. 301–29; Ishtiyaq Ahmad Zilli, 'Development of Inshā Literature to the End of Akbar's Reign', in Muzaffar Alam, Françoise Nalini Delvoye and Marc Gaborieau (eds), *The Making of Indo-Persian Culture: Indian and French Studies* (New Delhi: Manohar Publishers & Distributors, 2000), pp. 309–49; a new project on the subject is being carried out by Stephan Popp at the ÖAW in Vienna, see www.oeaw.ac.at/en/iran/research/research-archive/inshaa-literary-history-of-persian-epistolary-prose-in-early-modern-south-asia/.


al-Din's compositions are scattered across different letters but the most remarkable are perhaps the two satirical letters at the end of the text. See Ms. Fatih 5406, ff. 126b–130b.


## **7 Epilogue** A 'proto-beylik' in 13th-century Kastamonu

The beylik period in the history of Anatolia is traditionally seen as starting during the last decades of the 13th century and lasting into the 15th century. This period has often been ill-defined as a time of political fragmentation characterised by the rise of Turkish as a literary language, the consolidation of Islam as the majoritarian religion and, especially for nationalistic Turkish historiography, as a period of consolidation of Turkic ethnical identity that would culminate with the rise of the Ottomans and their political unification of the Anatolian Peninsula.1 This periodisation and enumeration of cultural transformations have been used to define a clear historical line that connected an alleged period of centralised Seljuq control of the peninsula in the first half of the 13th century, followed by the external occupation of the Mongols that brought division and fragmentation (beylik) before the Ottomans managed to reunify the peninsula under their control.2 In other words, a lineal historical progression has been provided for pre-Ottoman Anatolia going from the 11th century to the fall of Constantinople in 1453 as a chain of events leading from the Battle of Manzikert to the restoration of Turkish political control under an Ottoman unification of the peninsula. However, this framework oversimplifies the rich and complex cultural history of medieval Anatolia.

Fortunately, more recently, this framework has been revisited, questioning not only this chronology but also the socio-political definitions attached to the beylik principalities.3 This book has been an attempt to contribute to this new approach to the history of medieval Anatolia that rejects simplistic narratives of cultural determinism. Instead, the study of the cultural history of northwestern Anatolia under Chobanid rule acknowledges the cultural diversity and historical complexity that characterise this period. We have centred our attention on a peripheral Turkmen dynasty of north-western Kastamonu, showing that during the 13th century, this region pivoted through different periods of political autonomy, undergoing profound cultural shifts and religious transformations. Despite their obscure origins, the Chobanids already emerge in the sources as well positioned in the political landscape of the peninsula by the early 13th century. In what is considered the peak of Seljuq power in the peninsula, Husam al-Din Choban seems to have acquired significant

#### DOI: 10.4324/9781351025782-8

This chapter has been made available under a CC BY 4.0 licence.

political capital by getting involved in a complex network of political alliances and rivalries that existed in the early 13th century. It was his political capability and military strength that was behind his success in the expansion of the Chobanid domination of Kastamonu and – although doing so in the name of the Seljuqs – he commanded the only maritime campaign ever undertaken by a Turkmen amir in this period.

The Chobanids' visibility diminishes from the main narrative sources after this foundational period. From the 1240s, like much of the peninsula, Kastamonu enters a new political era marked by the Mongol domination over the Seljuqs of Rum, the changing gravitational pole of this domination from the Golden Horde first and into Iran later, and the establishment of Mongol officials in the region that would complicate even further the power networks of north-western Anatolia. However, despite the uncertainty that covers this period, it appears that the Chobanids remained not only active military agents in the region but consolidated their presence in the territory. While written sources are silent about the whereabouts of the Chobanids from the expedition to Crimea until the early 1280s, surviving architecture from this period suggests that Turkmen populations experienced a slowly but steady process of moving into the territory and a settlement pattern that shifted gradually from rural areas into the city of Kastamonu. While this period is confusing in terms of the political alliances and loyalty networks of the Chobanid rulers, it also seems to be the period when these Turkmen consolidated a cultural and religious identity that would emerge in the literary production of the late 13th century. The surviving letters contained in manuscript form written by Saʿd al-Din al-Haqq (Chapter 6) document the presence in the 1260s or 1270s of individuals well connected to a larger network of Anatolian professionals, men of letters and incipient Sufi brotherhoods. The presence of these individuals, who were largely connected through family and education to the other regions of the Muslim world (especially Iran and Central Asia), evidences a closer integration of the Chobanids and Kastamonu into the larger cultural and religious milieu of the greater Islamic world in the middle decades of the 13th century.

These parallel processes of political, economic and cultural transformations would deepen under the reign of Muzaffar al-Din Choban (r. 1280–91), thanks to the political stability granted by a strategic alliance with the Seljuq sultan Masʿud II and the Mongols of Iran, and Muzaffar al-Din's political will to develop an active policy of political, cultural and religious transformation of the region. This political stability generated two decades of unprecedented literary and architectural development in Kastamonu. On the one hand, the survival of a unique literary corpus that includes a variety of works connected to the Chobanid rulers evidences the investment that these Turkmen rulers made in attracting men of letters, religious leaders and capable administrators to their region. On the other hand, the financial support of local religious and secular institutions in local urban centres such as Kastamonu and Taşköprü helped to transform the landscape of north-western Anatolia and might have contributed to consolidate an ongoing process of Islamisation in the region initiated over a hundred years earlier. The analysis of the texts produced for and during the reign of the Chobanids offers a variety of different insights into the cultural life of the period that challenge the linearity of the historical development in the formation of the beylik principalities. For example, surviving texts from this period suggest a clear preference towards Persian rather than Turkish as a literary language. The different works dedicated to Muzaffar al-Din are not only composed in this language but there seems to be an effort to establish Persian as the administrative, scientific and religious *lingua literata* of Chobanid Kastamonu.

The content of the surviving Chobanid literary corpus offers a different perspective on the cultural development in this region which is impossible to obtain by following the historical narratives of medieval Anatolia that form the basis of the historiography of the period. The comprehensive analysis of this corpus reflects how Muzaffar al-Din Choban and his successors were not satisfied any longer with exercising military control over the territory. Instead, they were interested in associating themselves with some of the era's most recognised scholars like Qutb al-Din Shirazi, and in financing the production of a Persian astronomical treatise that certainly elevated the prestige of the ruler by associating his name with that of the Persian scholar. In addition, other works reflect that the rulers of Kastamonu were integrated into the larger literary milieu of late 13th-century Anatolia. For example, advice literature, an important literary genre among the Seljuqs of Rum, also became part of the Chobanid literary interest. The first part of the anonymous *Fustat al-ʿadala* dedicated to Muzaffar al-Din Choban is an example of administrative literature based on a classic mirror for princes, such as the *Siyar al-muluk*, written by an author who does not simply transcribe the original work but, based on the original text, makes a conscious effort to adapt the text to his patron's taste while demonstrating his literary capabilities in the hope of gaining a position in the court administration. The author intervenes in the text to modify its contents, expands certain sections and accommodates the difficulty of the language to make the text more appropriate in the eyes of this Turkmen local ruler. The text is not limited to an edition of the original text, but incorporates one entire new chapter, modifies several anecdotes and stories and adds contextual information to make the text more appealing to his patron and enhance the potential employability of the author in the court.

The corpus also offers a unique insight onto the religious milieu of medieval Kastamonu and the complexities of a process of Islamisation that was under way during the reign of the Chobanids. The contents of the second part of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* evidence also a conflict between an undefined orthodoxy and a colourful heterodoxy that included antinomian Sufis, Turkmen tribesmen and recent converts trying to find a balance in the unsettled religious landscape of medieval Anatolia. The description of the *jawlaqīyān* (Qalandars), despite its critical and biased presentation, offers a unique insight into these antinomian dervishes, their practices, and attitudes toward them in 13th- and 14th-century Anatolia. The description is created by a member of the Anatolian upper classes who tries to alert the incipient local rulers to the spread of, in his view, a subversive and dangerous heresy that originated in Iran but is permeating Anatolia. Yet, in doing so, the text gives voice to a subaltern social group of antinomian Sufis, leaves a unique description of the Qalandars' practices and beliefs, and offers a testimony of a rather pessimistic religious establishment that seems to have lost its grip on the faith of its followers.

The similarities with the official hagiography of the Qalandars, given that it precedes it by over fifty years, offers an exceptional opportunity for comparison and to reveal more about the origin of these mendicant dervishes at an early stage of their identity formation, with a still undefined theology, a confrontational attitude towards the sharia and fierce opposition to mainstream Sufism. The final section of the work is presented as a solution to this chaotic religious landscape. The author of the *Fustat al-ʿadala* (possibly a Shafiʿi) offers a mutually complementary Hanafi–Shafiʿi tradition to the ruler of Kastamonu (possibly influenced by Hanafi practices), who financed the work, perhaps as a useful guide on how to be a good Muslim and combat heresy in 13thcentury Anatolia. On the one hand, this text helps to reinforce the idea that the *Fustat al-ʿadala* (possibly written by an ʿalim) offers some further insights into the interest of the Chobanids in religious literature; on the other, the text evidences that it was possibly composed not only with the expectation of economic reward but with a clear proselytising aim targeting the newly Islamised Turkmen rulers of Kastamonu to whom the work is dedicated.

Finally, the bulk of the Chobanid literary legacy corresponds to the works of Husam al-Din Khuʾi. The surviving texts of this author, all connected in one way or another to Chobanid Kastamonu, evidence a close connection between stylistic writing and pragmatic literature. In his manuals of letter-writing, it is possible to observe how a traditional literary genre such as *inshāʾ* attracted the patronage of Chobanid rulers not only for its elegant prose and sophisticated use of the language, but also because of the possibilities that these texts offered for the practical administration of the region. We have shown how some of these manuals were composed possibly with the goal of obtaining financial reward and professional promotion. However, these texts were also composed with the aim of becoming a useful guide for chancellery practices, secretarial offices and internal administration of state affairs in Chobanid Kastamonu. The emphasis on the description of a society based on the model of the Great Seljuq administration dating back to the 11th century denotes an attempt to find a suitable model or socio-political administration that could be applied to the Chobanids' court in 13th-century Kastamonu. In addition, the composition of vocabularies in this period and the evidence of the use of these manuals in surviving manuscripts offer further evidence of the pragmatic aim in the literary production of Husam al-Din Khuʾi.

Overall, these works comprise a group of texts that complement each other in an attempt to provide the foundations to establish a local administration in Kastamonu. Unlike the commission of the scientific *Ikhtiyarat-i Muzaffari* composed by Qutb al-Din Shirazi, which had the evident goal of elevating the prestige of the ruler, Khuʾi's works seem to play a more pragmatic role in a larger political and social transformation occurring in Kastamonu during the final decades of the 13th century. They appeal to Kastamonu's local rulers not only for their stylistic mastery but also as part of personal project of state formation that should be understood in the context of a political project that includes political stability provided by alliances with local powers, the Islamisation of the landscape and the establishment of a local administration to rule the territory under the reign of Muzaffar al-Din Choban.

The revolt of Kastamonu (1291–93), the death of Muzaffar al-Din and the new approach of the Mongols towards Anatolia under Ghazan Khan might have conspired against the consolidation of this model. The death of Mahmud Choban, the last of his line, coincides in time with the disappearance of Masʿud II, the last Seljuq sultan of Rum and ally of the Chobanids. The last Seljuq sultan seems to have vanished into thin air at some point around 1308 and neither Aqsaraʾi nor the Anonymous Historian of Konya records his death.4 The end of the Seljuqs of Rum, the later collapse of the Mongols of Iran and the slow but steady decline of Byzantium offer a different political, economic and cultural scenario for the region of Kastamonu and Anatolia in the 14th century. The Jandarids would replace the Chobanids in the region in what could be seen as a simple exchange of one Turkmen dynasty for another. But, although to a certain extent there is some continuity between Jandarid and Chobanid rule in Kastamonu, the political, economic and religious circumstances of Anatolia in the 14th century would be different.

For more than a hundred years, the Chobanids ruled the region of Kastamonu in north-western Anatolia. We have observed that documental and archaeological evidence indicates that during this period the Chobanids were part of the shift of political gravity in north-western Anatolia from being under the influence of Byzantium to the West to the Seljuqs and Mongols in the East. The Chobanid rulers and Persianised elite that migrated from the greater Islamic world contributed to the region's profound cultural transformation by consolidating a process of Islamisation in the area and making Kastamonu a modest, and yet unique, centre of cultural activity. As the political, economic and cultural elite in the region, these individuals left a rich literary legacy in the Persian language that emerges as a testimony of a multicultural and religiously diverse period in Kastamonu that has been left aside from the more traditional literary sources of the period. We hope this study has served to show that although the Chobanids might not have achieved the same political autonomy or territorial expansion of some of the classical beylik principalities in the 14th century, their rule over Kastamonu is a good reflection of a unique case study of the formative period of a Turkmen political entity during the 13th century. During this time, the Chobanids managed to build and maintain a political structure that reflects the articulation of regional powers within larger and confronting political structures such as the Ilkhanate, the Seljuqs of Rum, or even Byzantium. This was a period of deep cultural and religious transformation that saw these Turkmen people evolving from local warlords in the early 13th century to consolidate what could be considered as a protobeylik on the border between Islam and Christianity.

### **Notes**


### **Appendices**

### *Appendix 1* Genealogical table of Chobanid rulers.



### **The first part of current binding of Ms. Turc 1120, corresponding to the second part of the original codex.**


### 212 *Appendices*

#### *Appendix 2* (Continued)



(*Continued*)

### 214 *Appendices*

#### *Appendix 2* (Continued)



77b–80b).

(*Continued*)

### 216 *Appendices*

#### *Appendix 2* (Continued)



*Appendix 3* Dynastic family tree of the Seljuqs of Rum.

newgenrtpdf


*Appendix 4* Table of selected surviving manuscript of works dedicated to the Chobanids of Kastamonu.

newgenrtpdf

(*Continued*)

*Appendix 4* (Continued)

5.

4

6

7 Qawaʿid alrasa<sup>ʾ</sup>il wa Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Süleymaniye

Fatih

Esad Efendi

Main collection

Nurbanu Sultan

Fatih

Carullah 5406

3369

1196

122

5406

1685

[ff. 32–96]

[106b–232b]

[ff. 59–71]

709 [1309–1310]

896 [1490–1491]

Possibly 15th or

16th century

Rabi' II 879

[ff. 72–98]

17th or 18th

century

709 [1309–1310]

Amir Maḥmūd

al-Dīn (d.

Amir Mahmud

al-Din (d.

Amir Mahmud

al-Din (d.

Nasir al-Din ibn

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

ibn Muz

̣

̣

affar

affar

ibn Muz

1309)

1309)

̣

affar

ibn Muz

1309)

Library

(Istanbul)

Süleymaniye

Library

Library

Hacı Selim

(Istanbul)

Malek National

Ağa Library

(Üṣkudar)

Süleymaniye

Library

(Istanbul)

Süleymaniye

Library

(Istanbul)

faraʾid

al-fazaʾil

Rusum al-rasaʾil

Ghunyat al-talib

wa munyat

al-katib

Multamasat

wa nujum

al–fazaʾil


newgenrtpdf


*No.*

4. *Work Title*

Nuzhat al-kuttab

wa tuhfat

al-ahbab

*Author*

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

Husam al-Din Khuʾi

*Library*

Süleymaniye

Library

(Istanbul)

Süleymaniye

Library

(Istanbul)

Süleymaniye

Library

(Istanbul)

(University of

Oxford)

Hacı Selim

Bodleian Library

Ağa Library

Kütüphanesi

Kütüphanesi

Manisa Library

Ankara Milli

Süleymaniye

Library

(Istanbul)

Süleymaniye

Library

(Istanbul)

(Üṣkudar)

Fatih Millet

*Collection*

Reşid Efendi

Lala İsmail

Şazeli Tekkesi

Manuscripts

Manuscripts

Collection

Tokat İl Halk

Şehid Ali Paşa

Fatih

Kütüphanesi

Collection

Ali Emiri Farsça

Laud *Ms. Number*

[ff. 11–22]

978

644

147

50

931

641

2777

5406

2739

[ff. 33–58]

25

[ff. 192–203]

*Date of copying*

16th or 17th. c

prob. 18th c

16th or 17th

Dhu al-Ḥijja 999

[1591 CE]

16th or 17th

Undated

Undated

Undated

709 [1309–1310]

15th century *Dedicatee*

Muzaffar al-Din

b. Alp Yürek

Muzaffar al-Din

b. Alp Yürek

Muzaffar al-Din

b. Alp Yürek

Muzaffar al-Din

b. Alp Yürek

Muzaffar al-Din

b. Alp Yürek

Muzaffar al-Din

b. Alp Yürek

Muzaffar al-Din

b. Alp Yürek

(*Continued*)

*Appendix 4* (Continued)


newgenrtpdf

### **Note**

1 Magi of the sect of Zoroaster, a priest of the worshippers of fire; a pagan.

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### **Manuscripts**

Ahmad of Niğde, *al-Walad al-Shafiq*. Süleymaniye Library (Istanbul), Fatih 4518.


———, *Fustat al-ʿadala fi qawaʿid al-sultana.* University of Tehran, *Microfilm* 6541.

ʻAyyuqi, Zabih Allah Safa, *Varqah va Gulshah*. Topkapı Sarayı Muzesi, *Hazine Kitaplığı* 841.

Khuʾi, Husam al-Din, [References in Appendix 4: Table of Chobanid manuscripts].


———, *Ikhtiyarat-i Muzaffari*, Süleymaniye Library (Istanbul), Fatih 5302.

Suhrawardi, Yahya b. Habash, *Partawnama*. Süleymaniye Library (Istanbul), Fatih 5426, ff. 53a–80a.

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Aflaki, Shams al-Din Ahmad, *Manaqib al-ʿarifin*, ed. T. Yazıcı, 2 vols (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basimevi, 1959–61).

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*Ibn-Faḍlallāh al-ʿUmarī, Aḥmad Ibn-Yaḥyā, 1301*–*1349*. Translated by Klaus Lech (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1968).


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———, 'Les tribus turques d'Asie Occidentale pendant la période seljukide', *Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes* 51 (1948–52), pp. 178–87.

———, 'Le commerce anatolien au début du XIIIe siècle', in *Mélanges d'histoire du moyen âge dédiés à la mémoire de Louis Halphen* (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1951), pp. 91–101.

———, 'Qutlumush et ses fils avant l'Asie Mineure', *Der Islam* 39:1 (1964), pp.14–27/

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### **Index**

*Note*: *Italic* and **bold** pages refer to figures and tables respectively, and page numbers followed by "n" refer to notes.


Azerbaijan 18–19, 23, 36n48, 80, 86, 148, 176, 191, 194 Bafra 192 Baghdad 19–20, 86, 127–129, 141n102, 144, 153 Baghdadi, Baha*ʾ* al-Din 175–176 *Bahr al-haqa*ʾ*iq* 100 Baiju, Mongol general 17–19, 20 48, 51, 58, 123 Balkhi, Muhammad 157 Barbaro, Josaphat 151 *Barid al-saʿada* 26 Batu Khan, ruler of the Golden Horde 19 Baybars, Mamluk Sultan 21, 52, 54 Bayezid II, Ottoman Sultan 87, 109n103 Bektaş, Hacı 146 Bektashism 146 *beylerbey* 43, 48–49, 51, 54, 65n28, 202n134 Bishbaliq 148, 166n36 Bistami, Bayazid 154–155 Black Sea 6, 8, 15, 17, 24, 29–31, 38n85, 39n89, 40, 46–48, 55, 102–103, 123 Blochet, Edger 76, 78 Bosworth, Clifford E. 1 Byzantine empire (Byzantium) 5, 8–9, 28, 31, 50–51, 93, 99; *Alexiad* 29; Anatolia 29–30; armies 15–16, 41–42; Christian Byzantium 81, 98; Churches 100; civil war in 40; diplomacy 50; population 31; trade in the economy 6; Turkish relations 5 Cahen, Claude 1, 7 cannabis in Islam 150, 154 Çelebi, ʿArif 99–100

chancellery *(divān)* 10, 174

Chinggis Khan, ruler of the Mongol empire 18–19, 46, 141n103


Comnena, Anna, Byzantine princess 29 Comnenus, John, Byzantine emperor 29, 40 Comnenus, Manuel, Byzantine emperor 15–16 Constantinople 5, 17, 29–30, 40, 51, 54, 57, 59–60, 62, 63n5, 65n32, 168n65, 204 Crimea 1, 4, 17, 21, 31–32, 46–49, 54–55, 66n39, 123, 168n67, 205 Cumans 16, 18, 31, 48 Danishmandids 15–16, 29, 35n34, 40 *Dastur al-katib fī taʿyin al-maratib* 178, 198n50 *Destur-i dabiri* 175 Deveci Sultan Türbesi 114n175 Diyarbakır 15, 19, 55 Dorylaeum, Battle of 15 *Durrat al-Taj* 116 Egypt 21, 31, 97, 139n64, 148, 157, 163 *epistolographía* 174 Erzincan 17, 26–27, 36n46, 55, 108n92, 194

Euclid *(Tarjuma-yi Tahrir-iusul-i Uqlidis)* 27

*Fann al-rasāʾil wa tartīb mukhāṭabāt* 81 Farahi, Abu Nasr 83, 107n67, 187 Farghani, Muhammad b. Ahmad 27 Farisi, Khatib 145, 153–157 Fars 3, 22, 111n136 Faryabi, Zahir al-Din 26 *Fatihnama* 8, 57, 181, 185 *Fustat al-ʿadala* fi qawaʿid al-sultana 7, 68n91, 75–81, 91–92, 116–124, 127–131, 135, 145, 147, 149, 152–153, 155–156, 158, 160, 163–164, 211–217; added and omitted sections 124–127; chapters and structure 119–124; as mirror for princes 131–135; religious references in 127–131 *futuwwa* 30, 38n82, 102, 114n177 Gangras (modern Çankırı) 45 Geykhatu, Ilkhan 22, 56–60, 70n116, 70n122 Ghazali, Abu Hamid Muhammad 89, 91,


Ghiyath al-Din Kaykhusraw I, Sultan of Rum 16, 26, 43 Ghiyath al-Din Kaykhusraw II, Sultan of Rum 17–20 Ghiyath al-Din Kaykhusraw III, Sultan of Rum 21, 53 Ghiyath al-Din Masʿud II, Sultan of Rum 4, 21–22, 43, 57–58, 78, 87 Ghiyath al-Din Muhammad b. Malik Shah, Sultan of the Great Seljuqs 121 *Ghunyat al-talib wa munyat al-katib* 65n31, 83, 90, 179, 186, 192, 198n55, 200n80, 200n83, 203n152, **221** Golden Horde 2, 18–20, 31, 39n90, 48, 67n72, 124, 205 Great Seljuqs 3, 14–15, 73; domination of Anatolia 15–18; Seljuq structure of government 183 Gregoras, Nicephoros 5, 42, 58 Grigor of Akanc 34n16 *Gulistan* 180 Güyük, ruler of the Mongol empire 19 Habashi, Bilal 153–154 Hacı Bektaş Veli 146 *Hadayiq al-siyar* 26 hadiths 76, 81, 115, 127–128, 159–161, 164, 179, 191 Hafiz Shirazi, Shams al-Din 146 Harput 15, 55 Harran 19, 145, 165n11, 167n42 Hülegü, Ilkhan 19–21, 51, 67n72, 86, 133, 144–145 Husam al-Din Choban 3, 14, 17, 24, 30, 32, 42–48, 52, 54, 93, 95, 97, 121 Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ 115, 174 Ibn al-Yaman 160 Ibn al-Zaki 177, 179 Ibn al-ʿAlqami 141n102 Ibn Battuta 6, 30, 72n160, 92, 96–97, 102–103, 150–151, 154, 158 Ibn Bibi 3–4, 14, 34n17, 34n20, 43, 46–49, 54, 66n43 Ibn Fuwati 144, 165n12 İbn-i Neccar, mosque 97 Ibn Khaldun 118 Ibn Khallikan 140n76 Ibn Najjar 97 Ibn Saʿid 5, 29, 39n89, 41 Ibn Sina 26, 85, 108n85 Ibn ʿArabi, Muhyi al-Din 25, 140n76 *Ihyaʾ ʿulum al-din* 89


Islam under Chobanids 143–145; Antinomian sufis, 13th-century Anatolia 145–153; in the *Fustat al-ʿadala* 157–164


180–185; Atabey Gazi mosque 32; chancellery in medieval Kastamonu 185–189; crops in 29; economic and religious life 6, 30; geography 28; Husam al-Din Khuʾi and manuals for letter-writing 178–189; *Inshāʾ* (chancellery) literature 174–180; *iqṭāʿ* of 49; Islamisation 6, 32, 98; literary genre, evolution 174–178; personal letters 189–195; proto-beylik in 13th- century 204–209; revolt of 8, 56–62, 208; socio-cultural history of 13th-century northern Anatolia 189–195; socio-political transformation 173–174; Turkicisation 33; Turkmen control in 42, 178–189; Turkmen revolts 51 al-Katib, ʿAbd al-Hamid 174 Katip Çelebi 76, 83 Kayseri 19, 48, 176 Kerman region 3, 23 Khalaj 192, 202n132 Khaqani, Afzal al-Din Shirvani 176 *khāṭib* (preacher) 96, 135 al-Khatib, Muhammad 76 al-Khattab, ʿUmar b. 126 Khismatulin, Alexey A. 78, 117–118 Khurasan 14, 31, 46, 55, 74, 97, 116–117, 127–128, 146, 148, 212 Khuʾi, Hasan b. ʿAbd al-Muʾmin Husam al-Din 10, 13n32, 33, 56–57, 60, 65n31, 68n89. 69n95, 70n119, 90–91, 105n33, 105n37, 123, 158, 160, 174–175, 177–193, 195, 207; works of 80–85 al-Khuʾi, *ʿ*Amal-i *ʿ*Abd al-Muʾmin b. Muhammad al-Naqqash 105n34 Khwarazm region 17–18, 23, 134, 141n103 *Kitab al-tavassul ila al-tarassul* 175 *Kitab mahtutat al- Mawsil* 84 al-Kiya al-Harrasi 129–130 Konya 3–4, 15–21, 24, 27–28, 42, 50–52, 56–60, 70, 70n122, 78, 80, 86, 90,


Laskaris family 51 *al-Lataʾif al-ʿalaʾiyya* 26, 116 letter-writing 174–178, 197n25; teaching 180–185 literary legacy of Chobanid Kastamonu 73–75; Fustat al-ʿadala fi qawaʿid alsultana 75–80; Husam al-Din Khuʾi, work of 80–85; other works 89–92; Qutb al-Din Shirazi 85–89 Literature, in Turkish 74


mirrors for princes: Arabophone territories 115; Chobanid Kastamonu 127, 131; post-Mongol Anatolia 116; *Siyar al-muluk (Siyasatnama)* 117–124; *see also Fustat al-ʿadala* fi qawaʿid al-sultana

*Mirsad al-ʿibad min al-mabdaʾ ila almaʿad* 26, 155


Anatolia under 18–23; Kastamonu's economic activity 30; north-western Anatolia 48–53; Seljuq Anatolia 15–18; Sultan of Khwarazm 134; *see also* Chobanid dynasty mosques 32, 66n38, 93, 112n142–143, 150; Akçasu Camii 94; Atabey Gazi 32, 94–96, *95*; congregation 94; construction or restoration 92–93; distribution of 66n38 Muhammad, Prophet 82, 132–135, 150, 153, 160, 162 Muhammad al-Isfahani, Shams al-Din 19 Muhammad Beg 21 Muhammad b. Ghazi of Malatya 26 Muhammad II, Sultan of the Khwarazmshah 46 Mujir al-Din b. Muʿtazz 22 *al-Mukhtarat min al-rasaʾil* 175 al-Mulk, Nizam 10, 69n96, 76, 78, 92, 105n30, 111n125, 116–118, 121, 123, 129–130 *Multamasat* 85, **221** *munashaʾāt* 176, 197n26, **222** Murad II, Sultan of the Ottoman empire 41 al-Mushtahir, al-Hajj Nasir b. al-Murad 97 Mustawfi, Hamdallah 6, 12n21, 30, 57, 184 Mutʿazz, Taj al-Din 27, 49 al-Muwaffaq, Hibat Allah 117 Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek 10, 23, 32, 48, 52, 54–61, 68n89, 68n93, 78, 80, 93, 96, 102, 120, 152, 180, **219**–**220**, **222** Muʿawiyya I, caliphate 174 Muʿin al- Din Muhammad Bey 49 Muʿin al-Din Muhammad b. Sulayman*,* son of the *Parvāna* 62 Muʿin al-Din Sulayman*,* Parvāna 21, 26–27, 49, 52 Myriocephalum, Battle of 16 *Nafhat al-ruh wa tuhfat al-futuh* 89 al-Nakhjavani, Najm al-Din 26 al-Nakhjivani, Muhammad b. Hindushah 178 al-Nakidi, Muhammad b. Hajji Yaʿqub b. Musa 81 *namāz* 149 *Nasib al-fityan* 83, 85, 187, **219** *Nasihat al-muluk* 90–91, 110n118, 110n121, 111n125, 116, 188–190

Nasir al-Din b. Muzaffar al-Din b. Alp Yürek 57, 59 Nasr Allah b. Husam al-Din Khuʾi 83, 99, 186, 191–192 Nicaea, Empire of 5, 31, 43, 50, 65n32 *Nihayat al-idrak fi dirayat al-aflak* 86 Niksar 26, 30, 91, 192 Niksari, Abu Bakr 157 *Nisab al-sibyan* 83, 187 *niyābat-i shihr* 182 Nizam al-Mulk, Seljuq vizier 76, 78, 116–118, 129 Nizamiyya, madrasa 129–130 *Nuzhat al-kuttab wa tuhfat al-ahbab* 68n89, 80–82, 84, 106n46, 179–181, 186, 199n54, **220** Ocak, Ahmet Yaşar 75, 144 Ögetei Khan, ruler of the Mongol empire 17–19, 34n13 Öljeitü, Ilkhan 22, 171n106 Osman Bey, founder of the Ottoman empire 41 Ottoman Empire 1–2, 41, 84, 143, 146, 152 Pachymeres, George 5, 7–8, 42, 55, 58, 60–61 Palaeologus, Michael VIII 49–50 *Panchatantra* 115 *parhzgār* 132 *Partawnama* 26 Paul, Jürgen 174–175 Peacock, Andrew 8, 41, 47, 51, 57, 89, 119, 146, 177, 200 Plato 115 Plutarch 115 political history, Chobanid Kastamonu: al-Din Choban, Husam 42–48; al-Din Choban, Muzaffar *53*, 54–60; Bey, Mahmud and the end 60–63; Danishmandid domains 40; Islamisation process 42; north-western Anatolia and Mongol invasion 48–53 Ptolomean principles 87 *Qabusnama (Nasihatnama)* 116 Qadis 27, 86–87, 96, 129, 135, 163 qalandarism, origin of 152–157 *Qalandarnama* 145 Qaramanids 22

Qaraqorum 19

	- Shafiʿism 163
	- Shah Daʾi Shirazi 146
	- Shāhid- Bāzī 37n65
	- *Shahnama* 76
	- Shams-i Tabrizi 146
	- sharia 47, 146, 149, 151–152, 159, 207
	- Shaykh ʿUthman-i Rumi 153–156
	- Shia Islam 126, 143, 146, 163
	- Shirazi, Qutb al-Din 27, 56, 85–89, 116, 136n14, 180, 206
	- Shirvani, Afzal al-Din Khaqani 176
	- al-Sijistani, Abu Daʾud Sulayman b. al-Ashʿath 160
	- Sinop 6, 9, 13n37, 17, 28, 38n76, 40, 46, 48–49, 52, 55, 63, 67n64, 89–92, 97–100, 102, 110n117, 124, 150, 192, 202n133
	- *sipahdār* 54–55
	- Sivas 17, 19, 26–27, 36n57, 48, 55–56, 68n84, 86–87, 108n92
	- *Siyar al-muluk (Siyasatnama)* 10, 69n96, 76, 78, 91–92, 104n17, 105n27, 105n29, 111n125, 115–135, 139n52, 164, 211–217
	- slave trade 6, 31, 123–124
	- Sudak 24, 46–47, 66n43–44, 172n134
	- Sufism 6, 27–28, 89, 102, 144, 157; *see also* Antinomian Sufis
	- Suhrawardi, Yahya b. Habash 25
	- Sulayman, *parvāna* Muʿin al-Din 52
	- Sulayman b. Qutlumush 15
	- Sulayman Pasha 63, 89
	- Süleymaniye Library 80–82, 167n52, 199, 219–222
	- Sultanate of Rum (Seljuqs of Rum) 2–3, 9, 14–15, 17, 22, 24, 26, 42, 44, 48–49, 78, 92, 134, 152, 205; family tree *218*
	- *Sunan Abi Dawud* 160

*sunna* 146, 158 Sunni Islam 126, 128, 140, 143, 157–158, 173 *Surat-i fatihnama* 57 Syria 16–17, 21, 24, 63, 97, 116, 136, 158, 163, 213 al-Tabari, Shaykh ʿAli b. al-Hasan Kiyaharas 129 Tabaristan 128–130, 136n7, 140n73 Tabrizi, Muhammad b. Mahmud b. Abd al-Rahman 86 Taj al-Din Muʿtazz b. Tahir 27, 52, 86–87 *Tarikh-i al-i Saljuq* 90 *tashbīh* (anthropomorphism) 148 *al-Tawassul ila al-tarassul* 176 Tegüder Ahmed, *Ilkhan* 21, 55–56, 178 Temüjin *see* Chinggis Khan Terken Khatun 117 Theodore II, Byzantine emperor 49–51 al-Tirmidhi, Muhammad b. ʿIsa 160 Tokat 16, 19, 26, 50–52 Tor, Deborah 115 Töregene Khatun 19 Tughraʾi, Shams al-Din Baba 49–50 Tughril III, Sultan of the Great Seljuqs 24 *Tuhfat alshahiyya* 86 *al-Tuhfat al-shahiyya fi al-hayʾa* 86 *Tuhfa-yi Husami (Tuhfe-i Hüsami)* 84, **219** Turan, Osman 7–8, 75–76, 78, 159 Turco-Mongol dynasties 73, 93

Turkicisation 33 Turkmen dynasties 2, 11, 93, 98 Turkmen tribes in Anatolia 3, 41, 113n166, 148, 206 Tusi, Nasir al-Din 86, 118, 144 al-Tustari, Muhammad 87

al-ʿUmari, Shihab al-Din 6, 30 Umayyad Empire 174 Urmawi, Siraj al-Din 116 ʿUryani Baba Tahir 145 Uzunçarşılı, İsmail Hakkı 89 Uzun Hasan 151

Valad, Bahaʾ al-Din 27 *Varqah va Gulshah* 80 Vatvat, Rashid al-Din 175

*al-Walad al-shafiq* 150 Wali, Shaykh ʿAbd al-Fattah-i 99 *waqfnāma* 80

Yahya, Badr al-Din 177 Yahya b. Saʿidb. Ahmad 26 Yavtash, Shams al-Din 48–49, 51 Yazıcızade Ali 41, 62 Yücel, Yaşar 7–8, 48 Yusufi, Muhammad ʿAli 75

Zachariadou, Elizabeth 7–8 al-Zaki, Abu Bakr b. 177, 194 al-Zanjani, Aḥmad b. Saʿd al-ʿUthmani 26 *zāwiyas* 30, 97, 102–103