To a collector of Islamic coinage, there is a singular, breathtaking departure from tradition that occurs in the 13th-century Anatolian plateau. While most Islamic dirhams of the era are strictly calligraphic, adhering to the aniconic traditions of the faith, the silver issues of Ghiyath al-Din Kaykhusraw II break the mold with a poetic, celestial image: the Lion and the Sun. To hold a dirham of this Seljuq Sultan is to touch the final, tragic flowering of the Sultanate of Rûm, a moment when Persian culture, Turkish power, and a husband’s deep affection were struck into silver just as the Mongol storm was gathering on the horizon.
A Dynasty Under the Anatolian Sky
Kaykhusraw II was born into the zenith of the Seljuqs of Rûm, the son of the legendary Kayqubad I and his Greek wife, Mahpari Khatun. He grew up in a court that was a melting pot of Persian literature, Greek art, and Turkish military tradition. However, his path to the throne in 1237 was paved with dynastic blood. His father had originally designated a younger half-brother as heir, but Kaykhusraw, backed by a faction of powerful emirs, seized the Sultanate. In the ruthless logic of the era, he eliminated his half-brothers and their mother, Adila Khatun, to ensure his grip on the “Lycian” throne.
In the early years of his reign (1237–1246), Kaykhusraw inherited a vast, wealthy realm. From the turquoise coasts of the Mediterranean to the rugged interior of central Anatolia, the Sultanate was a hub of the Silk Road. For the numismatist, the coinage of Kaykhusraw II is arguably the most famous of all Seljuq issues. The “Lion and Sun” (Shir-u Khurshid) type was struck at the mints of Sivas and Konya, and its beauty is matched only by the romantic legends surrounding its origin.
The Gurju Khatun Legend
The most enduring story among numismatists and historians is that Kaykhusraw was so enamored with his wife, the Georgian princess Gurju Khatun (born Tamar), that he wished to put her portrait on his coins. When his advisors cautioned that a literal image of a living woman would spark a religious revolt, he allegedly compromised. He chose the Lion to represent his own royal power and the Sun to symbolize the radiant beauty of his queen.
Whether this romantic tale is strictly factual or a bit of numismatic folklore, the result was a masterpiece of medieval art. The sun is often depicted with a human face, peeping over the back of a powerful, walking lion. It is a symbol that would eventually become a national emblem of Iran, but its roots are here, in the silver of 13th-century Anatolia.
The Babai Uprising: The First Cracks
Kaykhusraw’s reign was not all celestial beauty. He faced a massive internal threat known as the Babai Uprising (1239–1241). This was a revolt of the nomadic Turkmen tribes, led by the charismatic Baba Ishak. The rebels were tired of the Persianized elite in the cities and the heavy taxes required to maintain the Sultan’s lavish court.
This civil war gutted the Seljuq military and drained the treasury. For a collector, you can sometimes see the stress of this period in the minting. While the “Lion and Sun” dirhams remained high in silver purity, the sheer volume of output tells the story of an emperor desperately paying to keep his world together. Kaykhusraw eventually suppressed the revolt with the help of his Christian vassals, but the Sultanate was left exhausted.
The Mongol Shadow: Köse Dağ
The ultimate tragedy of Kaykhusraw II arrived in 1241 in the form of the Mongol general Baiju. The unstoppable Mongol war machine, having already leveled much of Persia, turned its sights on the Anatolian plateau. Kaykhusraw attempted to form a grand coalition, calling upon Armenians, Georgians, and even Frankish Crusaders from Cilicia.
On June 26, 1243, at the Battle of Köse Dağ, the Seljuq world collapsed. Kaykhusraw’s army was routed by the superior tactics and horse-archery of the Mongols. The Sultan fled the field, barely escaping to the West. The independence of the Seljuqs of Rûm died that day. Kaykhusraw became a vassal of the Great Khan, forced to pay a humiliating annual tribute of gold, silk, and livestock.
The Fragmented Legacy: 1246
Kaykhusraw II died in 1246, reportedly from a broken heart or illness, leaving his kingdom to be divided among his three young sons. The Sultanate was essentially “minced” into smaller pieces, governed by Mongol overseers.
For the collector, the death of Kaykhusraw marks the beginning of the end for Seljuq numismatic art. The coins that followed became increasingly simplified as the central power faded. He was a ruler who lived in a gilded age and died in a dark one, a man who patronized poets like Rumi but could not outmaneuver the Mongol cavalry.
His “Lion and Sun” dirhams remain his greatest monument. They are the physical evidence of a sultan who tried to blend the fierce power of the Turkish lion with the radiant light of the Persian sun, only to be eclipsed by a storm from the East. When you hold one of these silver discs, you aren’t just holding currency, you are holding the last breath of a free Anatolia, struck in high relief.
