The Rise & Fall of Morocco’s El Badi Palace

Abd al-Malik’s brother, Ahmad al-Mansur, emerged triumphant, earning the title ‘The Victorious’. The battle’s spoils were immense. Portugal, humiliated and broken, paid a vast ransom to retrieve its captive soldiers, and al-Mansur, now known as ‘The Victorious’, funneled the wealth into a palace fit for an empire.

El Badi—‘The Incomparable’—rose in Marrakech, an architectural proclamation of Saadian dominance. Artisans and labourers worked tirelessly, drawing in the finest materials from across the known world. Italian marble, Indian onyx, Sudanese gold—these were just some of the materials lining the walls of the palace. The sprawling structure spread around a vast rectangular courtyard, at the heart of which was a glimmering pool. The air was thick with the scent of orange trees, their roots drinking from intricate channels of flowing water that glistened in the Moroccan sun.

It was a palace designed for spectacle. Guests entered a world of unparalleled grandeur, where walls shimmered with mosaics and gold leaf, and silk draperies softened the glow of lanterns. In its throne room—the Qubbat al-Khamsiniya—al-Mansur entertained emissaries and courtiers beneath a ceiling so richly adorned that it seemed to drip with wealth. Intricate zellij tilework spread across floors and fountains to catch the flickering light of oil lamps. Water, a precious commodity in the arid lands of Morocco, was harnessed not only for function but for beauty, cascading from ornate fountains and reflecting the sky in its still pools.

For over three decades, the palace symbolised Saadian power. Poets and musicians filled its halls, and banquets lasted for days. Al-Mansur, ever-conscious of his image, hosted gatherings where courtiers marveled at the sheer impossibility of its beauty. But time is unkind to monuments built on the shifting sands of political fortune. After al-Mansur’s death in 1603, the Saadian dynasty weakened, and power slipped from their grasp. In the late 17th century, a new ruler emerged—Moulay Isma’il of the Alaouite dynasty. He had no desire to let the ghosts of his predecessors linger.

Like a vulture stripping the bones of the fallen, Moulay Isma’il dismantled El Badi piece by piece. The Italian marble was carted away to build his own imperial city in Meknes. Gold and onyx vanished, repurposed for new ambitions. The palace, once so alive with music and feasting, became a ruin. What had taken decades to build was undone in a matter of years. Walls crumbled, fountains ran dry, and silence settled on the defeated palace.

Now, what remains is a skeleton of its former self. The vast courtyard still stretches beneath the open sky, flanked by weathered walls where the last traces of ornamentation cling stubbornly. The throne room is now roofless, exposed to the elements, its grandeur now imagined rather than seen. Storks nest atop its ramparts, their silhouettes stark against the horizon.

Yet even in ruin, El Badi is anything but forgotten. The palace remains a fixture of Marrakech, with its skeletal walls representing both a monument to past grandeur and a stage for the present. Cultural festivals bring echoes of life back into its vast courtyard, while visitors get a chance to wander through its corridors, tracing the outlines of what once was. In 2023, an earthquake sent fresh cracks through its stone, a reminder that even the remnants of empire are not immune to time. But restoration efforts began swiftly, and within weeks, the palace reopened—weathered but standing, its story still unfolding beneath the open sky