The age of the crusades

by James M. Ludlow

THE THIRD CRUSADE.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
WILLIAM OF TYRE—BARBAROSSA.

With the news of the fall of Jerusalem came William, Archbishop of Tyre (the chief chronicler for this time), to stir up Europe to avenge the great disaster. This man possessed powers of speech equal to those of his pen. He appeared before an assembly near Gisors, where were gathered the bravest knights of England and France under their respective kings, Henry II. and Philip Augustus. These monarchs had laid aside the arms they were bearing against each other, that they might hear the appeal to holier warfare. The presence of such royalty did not restrain the fiery and indignant eloquence of William of Tyre. He cried, “To meet you here I have traversed fields of carnage. But whose blood have you been shedding? Why are you armed with these swords? You are fighting here for the banks of a river, for the limit of a province, for transient renown, while Infidels trample the banks of Siloam. Does your Europe no longer produce warriors like Godfrey and Tancred?” Even the blood of Henry II., poisoned as it was with many sins, felt the ardor of the appeal. He embraced his foe, Philip Augustus, with tears, while they together put on the badge of the cross. Princes and nobles followed the royal example, foremost among them Richard, then Duke of Guienne. Upon those who did not enlist was imposed a tax of one tenth of the value of their property, to be annually continued in a tenth of their incomes. This, in attestation of the terror inspired by the arms of the Saracen, was called “Saladin’s tithe.” The appeals of William of Tyre were supported by the pastoral letters of Pope Gregory VIII., which promised to all who should “undertake the labor of this expedition ... plenary indulgence for their offences and eternal life; ... and no person is to make any claim against the property of which, on assuming the cross, they were in quiet possession; ... they are not to pay interest to any person if they have so bound themselves.” The Pope further ordered a Lenten fast on every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, to appease the wrath of Heaven for sins, adding that the papal household would also abstain from flesh on Mondays.

The entire ritual of worship became infected with militarism and fear of the common enemy beyond the sea. In 1188 the Pope ordained that prayer against the Saracens should be offered everywhere daily. In the Church of St. Paul a recognition of the distressful condition was introduced into the liturgy. On Sundays there was read the psalm beginning, “Why do the heathen rage?” On Mondays, “Save us, O God, by Thy name.” On Tuesdays, “O God, why hast Thou forsaken us?” On Wednesdays, “O God, why hast Thou cast us off forever?” On Thursdays, “O God, the heathen are come into Thine inheritance.” On Fridays, “God standeth in the congregation of the mighty.” On Saturdays, “O Lord God, to whom vengeance belongeth, show Thyself.”

The peace between Henry II. and Philip Augustus made under the crusader enthusiasm, like other sudden excitements of religious emotion, did not long continue. A believer in the doctrine of the perseverance of the saints would hardly expect to find its proof in the house of Anjou, save by its exceptions. The recklessness of Richard again embroiled his father and the French king in war. An attempt to restore the truce on the same “sacred field” of Gisors where it had been solemnly enacted failed, and Philip Augustus cut down the elm-tree under which they had sworn it, that nature might not taunt them with their perjury. Saladin’s tithe was first devoted not against the Infidels, but to the infidelity of Christians in warring with one another, and was ominous of much of the subsequent use of that treasure. Rome excommunicated Richard, who drew his sword upon the papal legate that announced to him the decree. Philip as quickly repelled the interference of the spiritual power with what he deemed the more sacred right of conducting his own quarrels. It required the opportune intervention of a thunder-storm to shake the worldly purpose of Henry II., who, in genuine terror at the voice of heaven, at length agreed to peace.

In the meanwhile William of Tyre had electrified Germany with his appeals. The old emperor, Frederick I., took the cross, together with many of his chief nobles, including his son, Frederick, Duke of Swabia.

Frederick I., called Barbarossa by his Italian enemies because of his red beard, was the most astute statesman, the most experienced general, and the most powerful of the crowned heads of Europe during the twelfth century. He had been thirty-seven years on the throne of Germany. Though not altogether successful in his strifes with the popes, he had been able to consolidate his empire and extend its prestige. Now, at sixty-seven years of age, the peace of his dominion offered him the most envied imperial honors and the quiet ending of his days; but his heroic soul forgot the fatigue of age; he spurned the enjoyments of his palace when he heard the call for new adventures. He was the first en route for Palestine; indeed, had completed his ill-fated expedition before the younger princes of the West were afield.

The array of Frederick reflected the dignity of its commander. It was under careful, even stringent discipline; camp followers were unwelcome; no women were allowed in the expedition. This was a grievance to many of the fair sex, whose love would have led them to accompany their husbands, or whose adventurous instinct prompted them to put on armor; but the order rid the army of the throng of immoral creatures who were accustomed to attach themselves to the crusading masses. The usual crowd of paupers who became soldiers only to better their condition, and bands of pilgrims who sought safe convoy to the sacred shrines, were ordered out of the ranks, only those being allowed to start who showed possession of sufficient money to maintain themselves for two years.

In true chivalric spirit, the veteran warrior of the West sent to Saladin his royal challenge before proceeding to battle. His letter was true to the times also in that it showed the customary bravado of the knight, entering the lists with self-laudation, and hurling scorn at the visor of his antagonist. “We, Frederick, by the grace of God, Emperor of the Romans, ever August, the Magnificent Triumpher over the enemies of the empire, to the Illustrious Saladin, Governor of the Saracens.... Thou hast profaned the Holy Land, over which we, by the authority of the eternal King, bear rule.... God willing, you shall learn by experience the might of our victorious eagles.” Then Frederick lists the nations in his following: “The towering Bavarian, the cunning Swabian, the cautious Franconian, Saxony that sports with the sword, the active Brabantine, the Lorrainer, unused to peace, the fiery Burgundian, the nimble mountaineer of the Alps, the Friesian, with his javelin and thong, the Bohemian, ever ready to brave death, Polonia, fiercer than her own fierce beasts,” etc. “And, lastly, also, you shall be taught how our own right hand, which you suppose to be enfeebled by old age, can still wield the sword.”

Saladin, in turn, outdid his challenger in courtesy if not in bravado. “To the Great King, his sincere friend, the Illustrious Frederick, ... in the name of God the merciful.... You enumerate those who are leagued with you, but if we wished to enumerate those with us, the list could not be reduced to writing. With us are the Bedouins, alone sufficient to cope with you; the Turkomans, unaided able to destroy you; our peasants, able to despoil and exterminate you; the warlike Soldarii, by whom we have already beaten you. These and all the kings of Islam are with me; Babylon, with its dependencies, the land of Damascus, and Jerusalem on the sea-coast, ... and the land of Sudia, with its provinces. If you wish for war, we will meet you in the power of the Lord; but if you wish for peace, we will restore to you the holy cross, and liberate all Christian captives, and permit pilgrims to come freely and do them good. And may Allah give us counsel!” A rumor was current, based, doubtless, upon the clemency of Saladin to the Christians, that he was himself contemplating conversion to the faith of Europe. His letter to Frederick was its sufficient refutation, even without its closing invocation, “May God save our Prophet, Mohammed!” He emulates the conceit of his antagonist by signing himself, possibly with a touch of sarcasm, “Saladin, Illustrious Lord, Victorious King, Adorner of the standard of truth, Corrector of the world,” etc.

This seeming bombast was not peculiar to these potentates. The Greek emperor, Isaac Angelus, styled himself “The Most Sublime, Most Powerful Emperor, the Angel of the whole earth.” Isaac, however, possessed no personal qualities worthy of commendation. He inherited, together with the conceit, the cowardice and treachery of the whole line of Greek monarchs. He wrote to Frederick, promising aid, and at the same time made alliance with Saladin. Nicetas, the Greek historian of this period, admits against his nation that Isaac broke the treaties, impeded the roads, and diverted provisions from his German allies. At Adrianople he laid ambush for their scouts. The veteran Frederick, incensed at this treatment, made a bloody retaliation upon a detachment of Greeks. This brought Isaac to terms. His friendship was measured by a flotilla of fifteen hundred ships and twenty-six galleys, which he prepared for the speedy transportation of the Germans beyond the Marmora and out of menacing distance of his capital.

Kilidge-Arslan had sent fifty Moslem knights to meet Frederick on the way, and to pledge his friendship, but when the army reached Iconium it was discovered that this had been only a device to delay the emperor. Frederick taught the Moslems that he was in no mood to be trifled with, by suddenly assaulting and capturing the city. Pressing onward, the Germans had daily to meet the guerilla attacks of the Infidels. Their provisions were destroyed as fast as gathered. Water was scarce, only the stagnant pools in fever-impregnated marshes affording palliation to thirst. The soldiers at times killed their horses and drank their blood. Yet the discipline was strictly maintained. No crime went unpunished. It was evident that a stronger hand was guiding the crusaders than had before been felt. The Armenian patriarch wrote to his friend Saladin, warning him of the extraordinary type of man with whom he had to deal. Christian and Turk awaited the issue of the campaign with respective hope and solicitude.

In spite of all obstacles, the Germans made a triumphant march almost to the borders of Syria. The pure water of the river Selef, which flows by the walls of Seleucia, tempted the conqueror to bathe. Seized with cramps, he was carried away by the hurrying current. At length he was dragged from the water, but was in dying condition. Tradition says that on a rock near this spot was carved this prediction: “Hic hominum maximus peribit.” If the omen be fabulous, the description is correct, for Frederick Barbarossa remains in history as one of the “greatest of men.” William of Tyre, in his eulogy, translates his spirit to heaven, while the Arabian historian, Omad, tells us with equal confidence that the angel of death carried his soul to hell.

The German host, now led by the feebler hand of his son, Frederick of Swabia, succeeded in reaching Antioch with less than seven hundred horse and five thousand foot, a retinue scarcely sufficient to do honor to the remains of the grand old hero, which they there buried in the Church of St. Peter.

In June, 1190, the English and French made preparation to follow their unfortunate forerunner. It was not, however, until a year later that they arrived in Palestine.

The movements of Saladin, in the meanwhile, engrossed the fears of the Christian world. After capturing Jerusalem he attacked Tyre. The bravery of the defence was supplemented by the timely arrival of Conrad, whose father, the Marquis of Montferrat, Saladin held prisoner. Conrad had already made his name famous for valor. For his assistance of the Greek emperor against seditions in Constantinople he had won the title of Cæsar and the hand of the emperor’s sister. Saladin endeavored to divert him by threatening to kill his father unless he relinquished the defence of Tyre. Conrad’s reply was noteworthy: “The life of my father is less dear to me and to him than the cause we both serve.” Saladin was forced to give up the siege. He turned against Tripoli. Aided by Admiral Margarit, whom the King of Sicily had sent with a fleet and who had won the titles of “King of the Sea” and the “New Neptune,” the Tripolitans successfully resisted. Saladin then assailed Carac, which was forced to yield to the Moslem chief. He granted its defenders their liberty, and restored to them their wives and children, whom, in an hour of deathly fear, they had sold as slaves to Saladin rather than see them the victims of such ravages as usually followed the capture by the common soldiery. King Guy of Jerusalem had been released from imprisonment by Saladin on condition that he would leave Palestine and return to Europe. Guy paid no respect to his oath, but, gathering the loyal remnant of his kingdom, laid siege to Ptolemaïs (Acre), there inaugurating a contest which, for its duration and the fame of the great chieftains engaged in it, was the most noted in the sad annals of the third crusade.

CHAPTER XXIX.
SIEGE OF ACRE.

The plain of Acre is surrounded by great natural defences. On the north is Mount Saron, the narrow pathway over which is called the “Ladder of Tyre”; on the south rises the bulwark of Mount Carmel, touching the sea; on the east lie the mountains of Galilee; on the west the plain is washed by the Mediterranean. Within this seemingly impregnable district lay the strongly fortified city of Acre. Its port rivalled those of Tyre, Sidon, and Jaffa. High walls, guarded by deep moats, bent in shape of a horseshoe from the crags on the north to a fortress on the south, which rose from a rock in the waves. With the water front these enclosed the place.

Into the plain beyond the wall Guy collected nine thousand men. The rapid arrivals from Europe augmented this force to eighty thousand, even before the kings of England and France had started from home. The Infidels already occupied the city, and when Saladin seized the mountains about, the besiegers were themselves besieged. By a sudden dash Saladin penetrated their hosts, entered Acre, and reconnoitred the Christian armies from the towers. Conrad hastened from Tyre; two fleets brought new bands of German and Danish crusaders. The Christians gave battle, and drove the Moslems from the field with such slaughter that Saladin was left almost alone amid the wreck of his forces. But he quickly recuperated his strength, and a few days later returned the assault. No fury of fight could blind the eyes of this commander. Ten times he cut through the Christian lines, leading in person his swift riders. By night the crusaders were driven back and huddled impotently in their camps. The morrow revealed the plain strewn with the débris of both armies.

Though Saladin had fully avenged his first discomfiture, he had learned more of the sharpness of the Christians’ swords, and was too wise to risk another immediate engagement. He therefore withdrew to his fastnesses in the rear of the Christian encampment. During the entire winter (1189-90) the Christians were unmolested, and prosecuted the siege unremittingly. More than once the city barely escaped becoming the prize of the Christians’ daring or stratagem.

In the spring (1190) Saladin returned. Every attack made upon Acre by the crusaders was foiled by a counter-attack by the Moslems upon their rear. Egypt sent ships to succor the city, and Europe sent ships to succor its soldiers. Masts bearing the cross and those flying the pennant of its adversaries seemed at times to be mingled in confusion over the bay. The Moslem and Christian armies often manned their fortifications and stood as spectators of naval duels, where they were impotent to help their coreligionists. The enthusiasm of the observers, not having sufficient expression in shouts and cheers, often found vent in supplementary fights in the field. In the battles which raged on land the Christians were ordinarily victors during the morning, the Saracens in the latter part of the day. This was due, doubtless, to the fact that the discipline of Saladin’s men was superior, and that the self-command of their great general patiently waited for the first ardor of the crusaders to spend itself, or for their cupidity to divert their attention from the foe to the plunder which they had already taken.

Saladin’s forces had been weakened at the time by the ravages of Frederick Barbarossa in Asia Minor, which we have described, and which drew off many of the Moslem leaders to defend their own possessions in that quarter. The Christians took advantage of this to give the foe what they hoped to be a decisive engagement. Their impetuosity could not be resisted; they broke through even to the tent of Saladin. As usual, they paused for the prey, and received the usual punishment for their greed. Off guard, they were massacred by thousands, even amid the camps they were looting. An Arabian writer says: “The Christians fell under the swords of the conquerors as the wicked will fall into the abode of fire at the last day. Nine ranks of dead covered the ground, and each rank was of a thousand warriors.”

The besieged in Acre sallied forth and gave the Christians a double defeat. Then came the news of Frederick Barbarossa’s death. In the deep depression wrought by these tidings, a treaty of peace with Saladin would doubtless have been at once concluded, had not the Christians’ spirit been raised by the timely arrival of European fleets. Frederick of Swabia’s appearance with the remnant of his father’s army was signalled by new adventures, only to be met with new failures. The Christians, having no support from the surrounding country, were reduced almost to starvation, feeding upon horses and making soup of their harness. The plain, inundated by the overflowing river, bred epidemic, which carried away multitudes, three or four hundred being buried daily. Frederick of Swabia, the heir of the German throne, sickened and passed away, and many of his men returned to the West.

Queen Sibylla of Jerusalem also died at this juncture, and the Christians were divided into the hostile camps of those who were seeking to possess themselves of the shadows of the kingship. Humphrey had married Sibylla’s sister, and put forth his claim to the throne. Conrad gained the favor of the bishop, who forcibly dissolved Humphrey’s marriage and gave his wife to Conrad, though that worthy had already a spouse, the sister of the Greek emperor. King Guy, however, maintained his own rights to the empty sceptre. A civil war, which would surely have brought the Christian cause to ruin, was diverted only by the expected arrival of the kings of England and France, to whom it was agreed that the dispute should be referred.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE COMING OF PHILIP AUGUSTUS AND RICHARD—FALL OF ACRE.

Richard I. was crowned King of England in September, 1189. In October there arrived in England a messenger from Philip of France, reminding the king of their mutual oaths to make the crusade. The adventurous spirit of Richard did not need this appeal. He drained the resources of his realm in gathering means. All the money left him by his father, Henry II., was first appropriated. He then sold the manors and prospective income of the crown. Next the chief offices of honor and responsibility went to the highest bidder who had ready cash. Thus Hugh de Puzas, Bishop of Durham, became chief justice of England for a thousand marks. Having abundant soldiery at his command, Richard then allowed any one to purchase the privilege of staying at home; he even declared that he would sell the City of London for a reasonable price. The vassalage of Scotland went for a thousand marks, together with the fortresses of Roxburgh and Berwick. When he had nothing more to sell he forced his richer subjects to make him loans, which they knew he never would repay. A plain-spoken preacher advised him, before he set out on an expedition in the name of religion, to dispose of some of his notorious vices, naming especially his pride, avarice, and voluptuousness. Richard replied, “You counsel well, and I hereby dispose of the first to the Templars, of the second to the Benedictine monks, and of the third to my prelates.”

Consigning the administration of England to Hugh, Bishop of Durham, and an unsavory Frenchman, Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, he left England, accompanied by a turbulent crowd of adventurers. He made his rendezvous with the French king at Vezelay (June, 1190). Here the monarchs swore fraternity and to sacredly respect each other’s domains during the crusade. They invoked upon themselves the curses of Heaven and the church if they should prove unfaithful. The joint armies numbered a hundred thousand men. Warned by the reverses experienced by their predecessors in crusading overland, they chose the sea route to Palestine.

Philip sailed from Genoa for Sicily. He entered the port of Messina, September 16, 1190. Richard sailed from Marseilles, hugging the Italian coast, according to the sea travel of the day, visiting port towns en route, and paying worship at the shrines of the various local saints. He reached Messina a few days later than Philip (September 23d).

The main English fleet, leaving England and Normandy, had gone southward along the coast of France and Spain. The lands they passed in sight of were strange to the navigators, so little was known of the geography of even the countries of Europe. At Lisbon they could not resist the temptation to help the Portuguese Christians in a war with the Saracens, nor of indulging a less laudable sort of prowess, which Hovenden describes: “Disembarking from their ships, they made their way into the city, and as they went through streets and lanes talked to the people, giving themselves airs and committing violence upon the wives and daughters of the citizens; they drove away pagans and Jews, plundered their property, and burned their houses. They then stripped their vineyards, leaving them not so much as a grape.” This faithful chronicler also narrates that during a storm at sea St. Thomas à Becket appeared to them and calmed the waves. “They passed the city of Silva(?), which was the most remote of all the cities of Christendom.” At Marseilles they missed King Richard, who already had departed; but they were compensated for their disappointment in being enabled to worship the identical “rods with which our Lord was scourged, the jaw-bone of Lazarus, and one of the ribs of Lawrence.” Approaching Sicily, they saw the marvellous fish of St. Agatha, the story of which they believed: how that the heat of the volcano of Mount Gebel (Stromboli?) once threatened the town of Catana; but the people took the veil of St. Agatha from her tomb, “carried it before them, facing the fire, on which the flames returned to the sea and, parching it, dried it up for nearly a mile, and scorched the fish, many of which were half burned; and there are to this day many fish there of the same kind.” But the marvels of that voyage are too many for our pages, if not for the credulity of the reader.

Richard himself remained six months in Marseilles, a delay that nearly caused the destruction of his enterprise. A quarrel was started with Tancred, ruler of Sicily, about certain rights of Richard’s sister Joanna, who was the widow of Tancred’s predecessor. Says the chronicler: “Quicker than priest could chant matins did King Richard take the city.” Philip resented Richard’s audacity and forced him to take down his standard. Richard had once solicited and gained from Philip the hand of the French princess Alice; but, his advantage now blowing from another direction, he preferred Berengaria, a princess of Navarre. Berengaria, through the connivance of Eleanor, was brought to Messina. Only at the entreaty of utmost piety and discretion could Philip be persuaded to lay aside his rage at this new insult. He sailed at once for the East.

Richard followed eleven days later (April, 1191), taking with him Berengaria and Joanna, ex-Queen of Sicily. Three ships of the English fleet were wrecked on Cyprus, and their crews imprisoned by the inhabitants. Isaac, the king of the island, refused to redress the wrong. Richard administered swift punishment. Within three weeks he conquered the entire country, and, binding its ruler in a chain of silver, took him along on an involuntary pilgrimage to Palestine. Richard had celebrated his prowess at Cyprus by his nuptials with Berengaria. The new queen took with her as companion the daughter of Isaac, whose constant presence is said to have disturbed the already uncertain marital habits of her husband.

The French welcomed the arrival of their English allies with great bonfires, which were designed to proclaim the joy of the Christians and to flash dismay to the Moslem camps. The plain of Acre was soon filled with the tents of a host which represented the strength of combined Europe. Peoples strange to one another in speech, manners, and arms were one only in their cause. It is not to be wondered at if, at times, these races more sharply accentuated their differences than their unity. The contention between Guy and Conrad for the kingship of Jerusalem, which was referred to Philip and Richard for settlement, only gave opportunity for renewed hostility between these monarchs, Philip declaring for Conrad, and Richard for Guy. The matter was finally settled by agreement that Guy should reign and that Conrad should be his successor.

The jealousy of French and English prevented mutual help in the battles daily occurring, wherefore it was agreed that but one army should fight at a time against the walls of Acre, while the other should guard against a rear attack by Saladin. Thus the honors were easy, as the tasks assigned were equally hazardous. The courtesies of the camp were more readily extended to their enemy than to one another. Saladin, during the sickness of both sovereigns, sent to them his own physicians, and such luxuries as the East provided. While they received these from their foe without suspicion, Philip and Richard each attributed his sickness to the poisoning of the other, and each accused his Christian associate with using Saladin’s favors with a view to treasonable alliance.

Often tournaments were arranged between Moslem and Christian in the sight of both armies. Knight and emir entered the lists, abusing each other with their tongues like twin Thersiteses, then fighting with the valor of Hector and Achilles. Women did not disdain rivalry for the palm in swordcraft, and bands of children from either side fought to the death in the presence of their parents. The Infidel played for the dance of the Christian, and the minstrel of Europe gave the rhythm to the feet of the Saracen. The table of Saladin was sometimes graced by the presence of the foremost European knights, and in turn emirs feasted at the board of those whom they most dreaded to meet on the field. Saladin so respected the courtesy and devotion of the true Christian knight that he willingly wore the decoration of Chivalry, while Richard rode into battle one of the two splendid steeds which were the gift of the sultan’s brother. The lowest vices of the East and the West became the open indulgence of the camps of both. But each party maintained the utmost outward reverence to the symbols of his own religion; Saladin pausing in the midst of battle to read a chapter of the Koran, and the King of Jerusalem advancing to fight with the Gospels borne aloft before him.

The besieged in Acre were reduced to extremities, the Christians completely investing the city on the land side in spite of the forays of Saladin from the hills, and their fleets cutting off all succor from the sea. At length, after two years of incessant fighting, during which nine great battles were fought, the standard of the cross was seen floating from the ramparts of the city (July 12, 1191). The besieged had capitulated upon condition that their lives should be spared, and that Saladin should pay their ransom in two hundred pieces of gold. In the original proposal it was agreed to surrender the wood of the True Cross, the possession of which by the Infidels was imagined to be the cause of all sorts of disasters to the Christian world; among the least of which, if we are to believe a chronicler of the time, was that all children born in Christendom since the capture of the cross at Hattîn had but twenty-two instead of thirty-two teeth. Richard was not religious enough to insist upon the restoration of this precious symbol.

Saladin, after the city had fallen, delayed in fulfilling the condition that the defenders of Acre had put upon him relative to their ransom money. Richard avenged this assumed breach of faith by massacring five thousand unarmed Moslems before the city wall. Philip, in disgust at this action, turned over his army to the Duke of Burgundy and returned to France.

Richard, thus left in sole command, crossed Mount Carmel and proceeded southward, keeping close to the shore that he might have timely assistance from his fleet. At every stream and sand-dune he met the omnipresent Saladin. The Christians’ march was under an incessant rain of arrows, which covered the frequent dashes of the Moslem squadrons. At the banks of the Arsur (Nahr Falik) the Christians encountered the entire army of their contestants (September 7, 1191). Though Richard led sixty thousand, the Oriental historian Omad, secretary to Saladin, says that the Mussulmans surrounded them as the eyelashes surround the eye. The cry “Allah! Allah!” was echoed by “Deus vult!” as the mighty hosts sprang upon each other. The Christian infantry, leading the assault, suddenly opened its ranks; the cavalry poured through and made the first attack. Richard followed with the main body. Nothing could withstand the fury of his onset. The Moslems were swept before him; but they as quickly gathered in his rear, compelling him to return and fight over again the battle he had already won. The plain was too small for the multitude to marshal in orderly array. The armies were intertwined as the many folds of two serpents of hostile breed. It is said that more than once Richard and Saladin tested each other’s qualities by personal encounter; the only doubt cast upon this story by Christian writers being from the fact that Saladin survived, the Arabic chroniclers rejecting it on the ground that Richard still lived.

At nightfall the Moslems extricated themselves from the mêlée and disappeared in the forests of Saron, the Christians being wary enough not to follow them. Had Richard pursued his advantage the Arabian historians admit that he might have secured Jerusalem; but the impulsive temper of this leader suffered from sudden reaction. He repaired to Jaffa with the women of his household, and there established a brilliant and festive court. One day while hunting he was surrounded by a troop of Moslems. When he was on the point of being captured a French knight cried out, “I am the king; spare me.” The Moslems, thus diverted, allowed Richard to escape, and brought the knight a captive to Saladin.

Richard soon tired of his rest, and even of revelry, at Jaffa, and projected the siege of Ascalon. Saladin, made aware of that enterprise, burned the city. Richard set about its rebuilding; his orders were disobeyed. Many echoed the words of Leopold of Austria, who declared that he was a warrior, but neither a carpenter nor a mason.

The resentment of this prince had been kindled against the Englishman by an outrage on the part of Richard in ordering the standard of Austria to be thrown from the walls of Acre, where Leopold had presumptuously planted it after the capture of that place. Conrad of Montferrat had also taken umbrage at Richard’s lordly treatment of him, and was detected in courting alliance with Saladin for the restitution of Acre. Richard foiled him with deeper play. He proposed to give his sister, the ex-Queen of Sicily, as wife to Malek-Ahdel, brother of Saladin, that there might be erected at Jerusalem a mongrel empire of Christians and Moslems. Saladin toyed with the proposition sufficiently to delay Richard’s attack upon Jerusalem until that city had been greatly strengthened. Thousands of Christian captives were set to work upon the walls and in the ditches, under threat of being massacred, as were the Moslems by Richard’s order at Acre. Realizing that his scheme of alliance with Saladin had failed, Richard endeavored to engage his antagonist in battle in the open country; but the astute Moslem was too discreet to risk his cimeters against heavy swords, except when necessary. He had also some less martial schemes on foot; he seduced Conrad at least from whole-hearted loyalty to the cross, by promising to defend him in permanent possession of whatever cities he might take from his fellow-Christians. Conrad was soon assassinated by two Moslems. Richard was quickly accused of being accessory to this deed. The suspicion grew in plausibility when he forced Isabella, widow of Conrad, to marry his nephew, the Count of Champagne, who thus, through Isabella’s rights as sister of Sibylla, became titular King of Jerusalem. King Guy was compensated for the loss of his throne by the gift of the government of Cyprus, where his descendants reigned for two hundred years, until the Moslem wave had ingulfed the entire eastern Mediterranean.

Saladin was also thought to have connived at the murder of Conrad. One of the murderers, however, confessed to having been the agent of the Old Man of the Mountain, the chief of the sect of Assassins, who also avowed himself responsible for the deed.

This sect, whose name has given to European languages their word for the most atrocious crime, is one of the many divisions of the Moslem peoples. Their sheik regarded himself as the lineal successor of Hassan, and thus the inheritor of the Imam or Holy Spirit, whose possession is the inner sign of the caliphate. Hassan, after various adventures, retired to Altamont, a strong castle in the mountains of Persia, whence his title, and that of his successors, of “Old Man of the Mountain.” He attempted to enforce his spiritual authority by inspiring universal dread of his vengeance. His successors and agents became adept in the use of poisons, the dagger, and all methods of secretly disposing of human life. So wide were the ramifications of this brotherhood that, not only throughout the Moslem world, but in Christian Europe, sudden death, otherwise unaccountable, was accredited to the Assassins, whose dusky forms were imagined to move unseen in the bedchambers of princes and to stand behind thrones. The name “Assassin” is apparently from “hashish,” the drug with which the murderer stimulated his courage when accepting the desperate commission from his chief.

Richard, thus relieved of his rival, Conrad, again showed his superior powers of command. With marvellous celerity he swept over the country, even to the southern extreme of Palestine, where he captured Dârôm, at the entrance to Egypt. Saladin was apparently forced to retire within the walls of Jerusalem. Richard pressed towards the sacred city (June, 1192). Rumors of Saracen destitution and fright came upon every wind. The crusaders were eager to pluck again the prize of Jerusalem, which Providence seemed to hang within their reach; but Richard was incredulous of the weakness of a foe he had always found as strong as himself, and whom he knew to be his superior in craft. He pointed out to his followers that at that very moment the Moslem armies, scattered everywhere among the Judean foot-hills, actually surrounded their own; that the roads to the city were in places but narrow defiles guarded by precipitous heights, from which a few could hurl destruction upon many. To carry siege apparatus through such a country, facing the menace of a Saladin, was to invoke certain disaster. If repulse should come, what relief could they find so far away from the coast? How could they ever hope to make good a retreat to their ships?

The council of knights to whom the matter was referred agreed with their chief. Richard, with undoubted affliction of his martial pride, if not of his pious spirit, gave one longing look towards the distant domes of Jerusalem. He then covered his face with his shield and turned away, declaring that he was unwilling to gaze upon that which he was unable to conquer.

The retreat from Jerusalem destroyed Richard’s prestige as a strategist and capable leader of great enterprises; but nothing ever lessened his lustre for personal bravery. The lion may be outwitted by the fox; and it is no deep disgrace to Cœur de Lion that he could not circumvent a Saladin. Richard vented his disappointment and rage upon many parts of the Moslem host. Like a wounded lion, he destroyed whatever came within his reach. One day he annihilated a squadron of seven thousand Infidels; another time he captured as many camels laden with provision.

Saladin had outgeneralled him at Jaffa and captured that city, with the exception of the citadel, which promised surrender if succor did not come within a day. Richard in turn outplayed his rival; he slipped from the harbor of Acre with a few galleys and surprised the garrison at Jaffa. Such was the celerity of his approach that the Moslems fled from the city without having time to strike another blow in its defence.

Having obtained all the glory that was possible from his Eastern adventure, Richard proposed peace with Saladin. His emirs, equally wearied with war, urged the reluctant Saladin to accede to the crusaders’ terms. These were that the Christians should possess all the coast, except Ascalon, which should remain unoccupied, and that Jerusalem should be free for the feet of all pilgrims. The compact was made in the presence of the Koran and the Bible, the silent witnesses of the oaths taken respectively in the names of Allah and Jehovah. It was to be faithfully observed, according to some chroniclers, for the space of three years, three months, three weeks, three days, and three hours—a suggestion that came from the crusaders’ reverence for the Trinity. The peace was celebrated by a friendly tournament between chosen Christian and Moslem champions, in which lances clave through armor and swords drew life-blood in mere play. The gates of Jerusalem were thrown open that the warriors of the cross might kneel at the spot where the symbol of their faith had stood when their God hung upon it, and so return to Europe having accomplished a holy pilgrimage, if not a successful warfare.

Thus ended the third crusade, marked by the loss of perhaps a half-million Europeans, the foremost of emperors, an inestimable amount of treasure, and the prestige of Christendom as against the onrolling power of the Moslem world.

Richard returned to Europe (October 9, 1192). He was led to this purpose not more by his evident inability to found a kingdom in Palestine than by the necessity of maintaining his kingdom at home. Philip Augustus was menacing his domain. When this fellow-crusader left Palestine he renewed his oath with Richard not to commence any hostilities against him during his absence. It is said that he applied to the Pope for a dispensation from this vow. If this was not so, his actions showed that its restrictions were irksome to him. Longchamp, whom Richard had left in charge of the English government conjointly with the Bishop of Durham, endeavored to exercise limitless control. Even the mandates of Richard were disregarded by him. Compelled to flee the country, Longchamp became the open promoter of Philip’s designs. Philip made war upon Richard’s possessions in Normandy, and seduced from his allegiance Prince John, the king’s younger brother, destined to be his successor on the throne.

Richard, not daring to pass through France lest Philip should lay violent hands upon his person, sailed up the Adriatic. He was shipwrecked near Aquileia, and in disguise made his way northward through Austria. But no need of caution could restrain the impulsiveness of Richard, either in war or in pleasure. Dressed as a pilgrim, he lived as a prince; his prodigality easily led to his identification. Duke Leopold of Austria, whose banner he had thrown into the ditch at Acre, now took occasion to avenge that insult. He arrested Richard and threw him into prison (1193). The German emperor, Henry VI., also claimed the royal captive, and secured his person by paying to Leopold sixty thousand pieces of silver. The chronicler remarks, in the spirit of that age: “Forewarnings of this calamity had appeared in unusual seasons, inundations of rivers, awful storms of thunder and rain, with dreadful lightning.”

England, through Richard’s mother, Eleanor, appealed in vain to the Pope to intervene, inasmuch as the holy see had guaranteed the humblest—and surely the noblest—crusader against any detriment from Christians. But the priests of Rome were politicians, and made no sign. Philip of France, now in league with Prince John, and relieved of his dread of Richard, boldly made war in Normandy, where, however, he was repulsed by Robert of Leicester, a crusader who, more fortunate than his king, had reached home. Prince John also made an unsuccessful attempt to seat himself on his brother’s throne.

In the meanwhile Richard chafed in a dungeon where he was loaded with irons. His perpetual incarceration, or his assassination, being fraught with too much danger to his captors, it was determined to bring him to judicial disgrace. He was therefore summoned before the Diet of the Empire at Worms, and formally accused of crimes of all sorts, such as having insulted the Duke of Austria, having assassinated Conrad of Montferrat, having concluded a disgraceful treaty with Saladin. The royal captive, with marvellous self-restraint for him, deigned to explain these matters; then he burst out into indignant denunciation of his captors. The princes of Germany were made ashamed of the ignominy that in their name had been thrust upon the foremost hero of the age. Even prelates at length remembered that Richard had remained alone in Palestine when others were wearied with the defence of the faith.

Henry VI. was forced to release his royal captive. Yet he managed to fix as his ransom a hundred and fifty thousand marks. This large amount it was difficult to raise. The churches of England melted their plate; prelates paid a fourth of their income, the lower clergy a tenth, and all ranks a commensurate tax. Queen Eleanor in person bore the sum thus collected to Mayence (1194). Henry, however, could not yet brook his victim’s escape. Having received the ransom, he ordered Richard’s rearrest; but the English ship that bore him slipped from the mouth of the Schelde before the officers could overtake it. Philip of France sent this ungraceful but timely warning to Prince John: “Take care of yourself; the devil is broken loose.” One chronicler notes that at the very hour in which the king landed in England there appeared “a brilliant and unusual splendor in the heavens, of a very white and red color, about the length and breadth of a human body.” He also observes that Duke Leopold of Austria was horribly punished for his cruelty to Richard. Infernal fires were kindled in his limbs, whose progress he in vain tried to stay by amputating his own foot with an axe, and at length expired in dreadful agony. Romance has invented a pleasing story of Blondel, Richard’s friend and minstrel, who discovered the place of his king’s imprisonment by singing in its proximity a familiar song, to which Richard responded. It is true to the times, but the historian cannot vouch for its basis in fact.

Before Richard reached his throne his great competitor for renown in arms, Saladin, had passed away (March, 1193). He had retired to Damascus. A year after the peace, feeling the approach of the last enemy, and realizing that a greater than Richard was upon him, he ordered that his burial shroud, instead of his usual standard, should be carried through all the streets of Damascus, while his herald cried, “This—this is all that remains of the glory of Saladin, who conquered the East.”

CHAPTER XXXI.
PALESTINE AFTER THE THIRD CRUSADE—HENRY VI.—SIEGE OF THORON.

After the death of Saladin his empire fell to pieces. Afdhal, his eldest son, secured the title of Sultan of Damascus; another son, Aziz, that of Sultan of Egypt; and a third, Dahir, that of Sultan of Aleppo; Malek-Ahdel, his brother, the rule over Mesopotamia. Afdhal warred upon Aziz, and Malek-Ahdel took advantage of the reverses of both.

The Christians also fought among themselves. The jealousies of Templars and Hospitallers were intense. These two orders had, since their founding early in the century, grown to be powerful organizations, not only in Palestine, but throughout Europe. They held valuable property in all lands. Princes, feudal lords, and high dignitaries of the church were enrolled in their membership. They were rivals everywhere for the repute of bravery, as well as in wealth and political influence. The Roman see exempted their members from secular taxation, and even from religious oversight, except by the Holy Father himself. Their grand masters were autocratic sovereigns within their orders. Naturally they became overbearing, intolerant of interference, amenable to no counsel but their own. Their power bred audacity, and ecclesiastical privileges fostered the conceit of saintship, which even their crimes could not tarnish. As they despised the rest of mankind, so the two orders hated each other as rivals.

The Pope appealed for a new crusade, but could not evoke any popular response. Richard of England and Philip of France had such mutual suspicion that neither would leave his domain to the depredations of the other; and they hated each other too cordially to again unite their arms in the common cause. A few listened to the Pope’s appeal, among them Simon de Montfort, afterwards known for his butchery of the Albigenses.

It was reserved for Henry VI., the contemptible persecutor of Richard, to represent the royalty of Europe in response to the call of the Holy Father. He emulated the fame of his father, Frederick Barbarossa, whose ambition he inherited with neither his character nor ability. Not content with issuing royal mandates, he himself became a preacher of the holy war (spring of 1195). An army under the Archbishop of Mayence, which was joined by Queen Margaret of Hungary, moved eastward by way of the Danube. Another, under the dukes of Saxony and Brabant, left the ports of the Baltic. Henry marched with a force for Italy, but had his eye rather on Sicily than Palestine.

The first army reached Acre, and began ravaging the Moslem lands in spite of the protests of the Christian inhabitants, who could not bring themselves to so shameful a breach of treaty. Instantly the divisions of the Infidels were healed. From Egypt, Damascus, and Mesopotamia, the Moslems rallied to Jerusalem. Assigning command to Malek-Ahdel, they took summary vengeance upon the invaders. Jaffa fell at once into their hands.

The second army of Christians, having made the voyage down the Atlantic and through the Mediterranean, landed at Beirut and inflicted a crushing defeat upon Malek-Ahdel, who had advanced from Jaffa to oppose its progress.

Henry VI. busied himself in Sicily until he had secured that country, and with it restored the imperial preponderance in the affairs of Italy. This he accomplished through the perpetration of barbarities from which the Turks would have recoiled, and in which the Greeks at Constantinople were his only competitors. He put out the eyes of the son of Tancred, ruler of Cyprus, and stole his daughters. With the instinct of a ghoul, he dug up the body of Tancred in order to strip from it the badge of dead royalty. When he had satisfied his remorseless ambition in this section, he allowed the remnant of his army to proceed to Palestine for the succor of their brethren. He engaged to keep a force of fifty thousand in the Holy Land for one year at his own expense. The third army was led by Conrad, Bishop of Hildesheim, chancellor of the empire.

Thus augmented, the Christians in the East were enthusiastic for the recapture of Jerusalem; but the coming of winter, the well-known strengthening of the fortifications about the Holy City, and, above all, the dissensions among the rival leaders, who cared more for the maritime cities, with their treasures, than for a place whose chief glory was its sacredness, led to the postponement of the enterprise until the spring.

An assault upon Thoron occupied them meanwhile. The fortress of Thoron, between the Lebanons and the Mediterranean, was the great menace to the ambition of the invaders. This stronghold was on the top of a mountain, and guarded from hostile approach by precipitous walls and deep ravines. Its seeming impregnability did not daunt the spirit of the crusaders; they bridged chasms and dug into cliffs, until they thoroughly undermined the masonry of the fortress.

The Moslems, realizing their extremity, proposed to capitulate on simply being guaranteed their lives. The proposition divided the Christian leaders, the majority being willing to accept this condition of surrender; but many, overcome by their passion for blood, voted to give no quarter. The attitude of this latter party in the conference convinced the Moslem deputies that the lives of their people would not be safe even under the sacredness of an agreement, an impression which was confirmed by the remembrance of past occasions when the Christians won the name of truce-breakers. Believing that they had nothing to hope for, the Moslems resolved to fight it out. In vain did the more moderate among the besiegers assure them of protection. The broken ramparts were repaired, or the gaps filled with solid ranks of soldiers who with upraised swords invoked the judgment of Allah. They countermined, and met their assailants in subterranean passages. The Saxon miners who entered these shafts often reappeared in the hands of captors upon the walls, whence they were hurled by the engines through the air, to fall dead in the camp they had left. The desperate valor of the Moslems depressed the hosts which but yesterday were waiting to bathe their victorious swords in the blood of the victims. The chiefs accused one another of cowardice and treachery. The miserable rivalry led them one by one to desert and retire to the coast. One day, when the orders for general assault had been issued, the various divisions found themselves without leaders and without plans. Disorder was followed by panic, augmented by the report that Malek-Ahdel had been joined by Aziz, the son of Saladin and Sultan of Egypt, and that soon this force would be upon them. A furious tempest swept over the mountain. Their superstition heard in the thunders the malediction of heaven, and saw in the freshets which obliterated the paths the vengeance of nature for their having turned aside from the conquest of Jerusalem. The Germans made a wretched flight for Jaffa; the Syrian Christians huddled themselves into Acre. Malek-Ahdel quickly assaulted Jaffa, and, though repulsed, left the dukes of Saxony and Brabant dead upon the field.

News soon came of the death of the Emperor Henry VI. (September 28, 1197). The German chieftains hastened their return to Europe in order to secure their individual interests with the successor to the imperial throne. In vain did the Pope protest against the desertion of the pious cause. A woman, Queen Margaret of Hungary, alone remained with her soldiers on the sacred soil. The remnant left at Jaffa were surprised during a roisterous and drunken celebration of the feast of St. Martin, and were massacred almost to a man by the Moslems.

Thus terminated what some writers denominate the fourth crusade, but which surely deserves no such designation. It was a European raid in which the religious motive scarcely evidenced itself except in the fact that it was proclaimed by a Pope. The thirty ounces of gold which Henry VI. promised to each of his soldiers seem to have been more influential over their minds than even the desire to pray at the Holy Sepulchre. The movement inspired new confidence in the prowess of the Moslems, confirming their own belief in the invincibility of their Prophet, and exciting a query throughout the Christian world, if Christ had not deserted His people because of their sins.