While browsing the March 1956 issue of Al‑Hilal magazine—published fifty‑nine years ago—my attention was drawn to an article on page eight titled “The Falcon of Arabia… Saud as I Saw Him,” narrated by Anwar Al‑Sadat, then Minister of State and Acting Representative. He wrote:
“We had just completed the rites of Hajj, and King Saud’s caravan was leading the pilgrims returning from Mecca to Jeddah after performing the sacred duty.
Suddenly, the King’s procession stopped, and the road was cleared so that people could continue their way. When our turn came to pass the point where the King had halted, I saw King Saud sitting on the sand with his entourage—not as a king, but as an ordinary Muslim. All were performing the Maghrib prayer, their foreheads pressed into the sand, without pomp or ceremony. Saud was among them, a Muslim fulfilling his duty. I said to myself: This is not the way of kings… this is the nature of the early Commanders of the Faithful, who stripped themselves before God, before religion, and before the people.”
King Saud adopted a daily way of life free from the trappings that kings usually surround themselves with—a way rooted in the pure Islamic nature, perhaps an extension of the era of the Rightly Guided Caliphs.
His day began with remembrance of God and the dawn prayer. He then attended to the affairs of his people—not in a royal palace, but in a modest Arab majlis in the heart of Riyadh, where people came to sit with Saud not as a king, but as a shepherd, a father, and a brother, in the manner of Arab tradition since the dawn of Islam: simplicity, freedom, and mutual trust between ruler and ruled, without formality or burden.
When the call to Dhuhr prayer was heard, Saud and those with him would rise to perform it. He would then return to his palace for lunch and a brief rest before rising for the Asr prayer. Once finished, he would head to Al‑Murabba‘—the palace of the late King Abdulaziz. There, one could feel the heroism and glory of Abdulaziz, despite the simplicity of the building.
I arrived in Riyadh after noon and was invited to meet the King after Asr. When I entered Al‑Murabba‘ Palace, Saud was—as always—smiling, welcoming, embodying the essence of Arab generosity. He seated me beside him, and I immediately began presenting my report on my mission regarding the Islamic Conference. To my surprise, he turned his attention elsewhere, for a religious lesson had begun. A scholar from Najd was speaking, citing Qur’an and Hadith about the duties of rulers toward their subjects. I had no choice but to listen until the lesson ended.
Then King Saud turned to me with warmth and said:
“This was the tradition of King Abdulaziz. At this very hour every day, he would sit in this majlis to listen to words of religion, truth, and goodness.”
The attendees were tribesmen who had come to Riyadh. Another tradition followed: those who came to the capital and attended this daily gathering with the King would eat at his table, for they were his guests as long as they remained in Riyadh. When the Maghrib call to prayer was heard and the King completed it, everyone—regardless of status—rose to the dinner table. Afterward, the King returned directly to his palace to rest, having performed the Isha prayer, ready to rise the next day to fulfill the rights of God and the rights of the people once again.
Saud treated his subjects as a Muslim—without pretension, without affectation, without ceremony. His nature in this regard was, as I said, the nature of the early Commanders of the Faithful: devoted to God in true worship, to religion in upholding its rites, and to the people in fulfilling their rights and duties.
— Ambassador Major General Saleh bin Mohammed Al‑Ghufaili