[1192-1194 A.D.]
An English Crusader, Third Crusade
A long captivity awaited Richard on his return to Europe. The vessel in which he embarked was shipwrecked on the coast of Italy, and fearing to pass through France, he took the route of Germany, concealed under the habit of a simple pilgrim. His liberality betrayed the monarch, and as he had enemies everywhere, he was seized by the soldiers of the duke of Austria. Leopold had not sufficient generosity to forget the outrages received from Richard at the siege of Ptolemais, and detained him prisoner.[67] The duke of Austria did not dare to detain his redoubtable captive in his own hands, and gave him up to the emperor of Germany. Henry VI, who had likewise insults to revenge, was rejoiced to get Richard in his power, and kept him in chains, as if he had made him a prisoner in the field of battle. The hero of the crusade, who had filled the world with his renown, was cast into a dark dungeon, and remained a long time a victim to the vengeance of his enemies—and they were Christian princes. He was brought before the German diet, assembled at Worms, where he was accused of all the crimes that hatred and envy could invent. But the spectacle of a king in chains was so affecting, that no one durst condemn Richard, and when he offered his justification, the bishops and nobles melted into tears, and besought Henry to treat him with less injustice and rigour.
Queen Eleanor implored all the powers of Europe for the release of her son. The complaints and tears of a mother touched the heart of Celestine, who had recently ascended the chair of St. Peter. The pope several times demanded the liberty of the king of England, and even excommunicated the duke of Austria and the emperor; but the thunders of the church had so often been launched against the thrones of Germany, that they no longer inspired fear. Henry braved the anathemas of the holy see; the captivity of Richard lasted another year; and he only obtained his liberty after engaging to pay a considerable ransom. His kingdom, which he had ruined at his departure for the Holy Land, exhausted itself to hasten his return; and England gave up even her sacred vases to break the chains of her monarch. He was received with enthusiasm by the English; his adventures, which drew tears, obliterated the remembrance of his cruelties, and Europe only recollected his exploits and his misfortunes.[c]
DEATH OF SALADIN; ARAB EULOGIES
In the year 589 (1193 A.D.), after the departure of the king of England, Saladin having no longer anything to fear from the Christians, resolved to pass some time at Damascus. This was always a favourite place of sojourn, and he hoped there to recover his health, for he was feeling severely the strain of so arduous a war. His plan, after resting a while in Damascus, was to go to Egypt, which he had not visited for ten years. He left Jerusalem and paid visits en route to Nablus, Tiberias, and other scenes of his recent conquests. At Berytus, Bohemond, prince of Antioch, came to pay allegiance. What most touched the sultan was that Bohemond came of his own accord, without distrust, without escort, without even having requested a safe conduct. As evidence of his satisfaction the sultan gave him a splendid welcome, and granted him several fiefs contiguous to his own principality. The lords who came with him also received presents. Saladin finally arrived in Damascus amid the acclamations of the populace. Great was the rejoicing, and poets exercised their art for the occasion. The sultan immediately took in hand the welfare of the inhabitants and reformed several abuses. In the meanwhile he betook himself with his brother Malik Adil to the pleasures of the chase. He was away a fortnight; his health seemed restored, and already he began to believe himself beyond all danger, when suddenly he fell ill of a bilious fever of which he died on the thirteenth day, March 5, 1193. Boha ad-Din, who at the time of Saladin’s death was in the city, relates that grief was universal. “That day,” he says, “was the most terrible that had ever dawned on Islam. The castle of Damascus, the city, the whole universe was struck with a sorrow that God alone could measure.”
Saladin was born at Tekrit, on the Tigris, and died at the age of fifty-seven lunar years, after having reigned twenty-four years over Egypt and nineteen over Syria. Arabian historians represent him as a most generous prince, who would ever willingly deprive himself of the necessaries of life. Boha ad-Din avows that finally his steward felt obliged, unknown to him, to put aside money in order to meet future emergencies; at his death they found in his treasury forty-seven silver pieces and one of gold. “This,” adds Boha ad-Din, “was all that remained of the revenues of Egypt, Arabia, Syria, and a part of Mesopotamia.”
It always happened that when Saladin took possession of a new province he performed deeds of great generosity in order to win over the people. When he entered Damascus after the death of Nur ad-Din, he did not take for himself any of this prince’s treasures, but distributed everything among the emirs. “Saladin,” says Abulfeda, “had gentle manners, he bore contradiction easily, and showed great indulgence to those who served him. If anything wounded his feelings he did not exhibit it. He was reserved in speech; and his example inspired the same thing in others. No one dared attack his neighbour’s honour in the sultan’s presence.