Jerusalem, the City of Herod and Saladin

by Walter Besant; Edward Henry Palmer

Arrived at Jerusalem, all the people, headed by the clergy, came out to meet the king, singing hymns and bearing tapers. Only the patriarch, Dagobert, chose to be absent and retired to Mount Zion, pretending to be in fear for his personal safety.

Baldwin did not immediately concern himself about the patriarch. Satisfied with the homage of the barons and clergy, and conscious that his crown could only be preserved by establishing respect for his prowess among his own men, and fear among the Mohammedans, he set out with a force of a hundred and fifty knights, and five hundred foot, and appeared before the walls of Ascalon. Here, however, he experienced a check, the garrison having been reinforced. Raising the siege hastily, he ravaged the country round the town, and then directed his march in a south-east direction, taking possession of the cattle everywhere and destroying the crops. At one place he found a large number of Arabs, robbers, we are told, who had taken refuge in caverns. Baldwin kindled fires at the mouth of the cave, hoping to drive them out by the smoke. Only two came. The king spoke kindly to them, kept one, dressed up the other in a magnificent mantle and sent him back. As soon as he was gone Baldwin killed the one who was left. Presently the messenger returned with ten more. Baldwin sent back one, as before, and killed the remaining ten. This one returned with thirty; one was sent back and the rest beheaded. The next time two hundred and thirty came out, and Baldwin beheaded them all. Then more fire was made, and the miserable wives and children were forced to come out. Some ransomed their lives, the rest were beheaded. Baldwin, after this wholesale slaughter, thence travelled down to the Dead Sea, to the great delight of his chaplain, who describes the places he saw, everywhere inspiring terror of his name, and driving the cattle before him. He returned to Jerusalem laden with booty, three days before Christmas, having succeeded in gaining the confidence of his new subjects. Dagobert, the patriarch, deemed it wisest to cease his opposition to the king, and the coronation of Baldwin took place at Bethlehem. Tancred at first refused to recognise his old enemy as king, but giving way, they were reconciled; moreover, he was no longer so much in Baldwin’s way, because in his uncle, Bohemond’s, captivity he was governing his principality of Antioch. The reconciliation, like that between Raymond and Godfrey, was sincere and loyal. By several small expeditions, such as that directed to the south, Baldwin established a terror for his name which served him in good stead. For the kingdom was in an unstable and dangerous condition; there were very few men with whom to form an army, and had it not been for the pilgrims who flocked to the city in thousands, it might have been lost many times over.

The Easter miracle of the Holy Fire served this year to revive the enthusiasm which was beginning to flag. To the astonishment and horror of the people it did not come as usual. For three days they waited. Tears, prayers, and lamentations were uttered. Then a solemn procession was enjoined, and king, clergy, and people marched barefooted round the church, weeping and praying. Suddenly a bright light filled the church. The flame had lit one of the lamps, it flew from lamp to lamp, and when in the evening Baldwin sat at dinner in the “Temple of Solomon,” i.e., the Jamí el Aksa, two lamps were miraculously kindled there also. We can have very little doubt, inasmuch as this impudent imposture is carried on to the present day, avowedly as an imposture, that Baldwin and the clergy devised the scheme as a means to arouse the flagging zeal of the pilgrims, and especially of certain Genoese and Pisans, who had a large fleet with them, the assistance of which he greatly desired.

To bring about this fraud, a reconciliation had been effected between Baldwin and the unworthy patriarch, Dagobert. For it was not long after the return of Baldwin from his first expedition when he discovered how Dagobert had endeavoured, by any means in his power, to prevent his accession. Doubtless he was informed by Arnold,[^[56]] the late chaplain to the Duke Robert of Normandy. Arnold, a priest of great ambition, was the heir to Bishop Odo of Bayeux, William the Conqueror’s half-brother, who had left him great wealth. The object dearest to his heart was the acquisition of the post of patriarch. After the siege he performed the duties temporarily, as a sort of vicar, but had been displaced on Dagobert’s appointment. His morals, we are told by William of Tyre, were so notoriously bad as to be the theme of rough verses among the soldiers. But William of Tyre, whose favourite name for him is “that first-born of Satan,” writes from the side of the Church as represented by Dagobert. The morals of the patriarch himself, too, appear to have been at least doubtful, even before his accession to his new dignity, as he is roundly accused of appropriating to his own purposes moneys and presents destined for the pope. But churchmen, when they talk of morality, always mean chastity and nothing else. As soon as Baldwin was informed of Dagobert’s opposition, he wrote a letter to Rome, accusing the patriarch not only of opposing the election of the lawful and hereditary king, but also of trying to procure his death on the road, and of exciting discord among the chiefs of the Crusade. The pope sent his own brother, Cardinal Maurice, to Jerusalem as his legate, with authority to suspend the patriarch until he should be able to purge himself of the charges brought against him. Maurice called a court composed of bishops and abbots directly he arrived in the city, and summoned the king to prove, and the patriarch to disprove, his accusations. Baldwin had, meanwhile, found another charge, no doubt invented by Arnold, as it bears all the marks of private malice, to bring against Dagobert. He had, it was said, purloined and concealed a piece of the wood of the Cross, in addition to his other offences; the king himself must have known well enough that in the eyes of the Church this offence would be far more serious than any of the others. To procure the death of a man would be venial indeed compared with the abstraction of a relic. Dagobert had very little, it would appear, to say, and an adjournment was granted, to give him time to call witnesses in his own defence.

[56]. His name is also written Arnoulf and Arnoul.

Came, meantime, the season of Easter, and that day, Good Friday, when the Holy Oil was wont to be consecrated for the use of the sick. In place of the patriarch, whom the king assumed to be deposed, but who was really only suspended, the cardinal undertook this duty, and was already on the Mount of Olives, the place assigned to this ceremony, when the patriarch, humiliated beyond all expression by this public degradation from his functions, went to the king and implored him, with tears in his eyes, to reinstate him for that day only. Baldwin refused. Dagobert urged him again not to inflict this punishment upon him in the face of so many pilgrims. But the king remained obdurate. Then the patriarch changed his line. Instead of entreating, he bribed. He offered Baldwin three hundred byzantines. The royal treasury was empty, the knights were clamouring for their pay, and the patriarch obtained his request.

After this some sort of peace was made up between the pope’s legate, Cardinal Maurice, and the patriarch; a peace founded, it would seem, on mutual interest, for we are told that they became so friendly that they were accustomed to spend the day and night together in retired places, secretly feasting, and drinking the wine of Gaza, no doubt in happy ignorance that the eye of Arnold—that first-born of Satan—was upon them, and that he was biding his time.

In the spring, at the same time as the memorable miracle of the Holy Fire, and the arrival of the Genoese and Pisan fleet, came emissaries from the Mohammedan towns of Ascalon, Cæsarea, Ptolemais, and Tyre, with presents and money, asking for permission to cultivate their lands in peace. Baldwin took the money and promised security till Pentecost. He also made a little more money by accepting the ransom of certain prisoners whom he had taken at Beyrout. With this capital of ready money he was able to pay his knights, at least, in part, and to ensure their service for the next campaign. He offered the Genoese, on condition of their granting him their assistance with the fleet, to give up to them a third of the booty in every town which he might take with their assistance, and to name one of the principal streets in it, the street of the Genoese. They agreed, and Baldwin made his preparations for an attack on Cæsarea. The patriarch, bearing the wood of the true Cross—all, that is, that he had not stolen—went with the army. When they arrived before the town, the people of Cæsarea, rich merchants, who desired nothing but to be left alone, and were a peaceful folk, sent deputies, who asked the patriarch the following question: “You, who are the doctors of the Christian law, why do you order your men to kill and plunder us, who are made in the image of your God?” The patriarch evaded the point. “We do not desire,” said he, softly, “to plunder you. This city does not belong to you, but to Saint Peter. We have no wish to kill you, but the Divine vengeance pursues those who are armed against the law of God.” It will be observed that the town was claimed, not for the Christian kingdom, but for the Church. “It belonged to Saint Peter.” Dagobert’s idea seemed to have been that the king was to be like Godfrey, only the Defender of the Sepulchre. Baldwin, however, thought quite differently. The city was taken with the usual form, and with the usual butchery. As some miserable Saracens had been seen to swallow coins, the Christians cut their prisoners in two to find the money, and burned their bodies to ashes, looking for the gold when the fire was out. And with a view to restoring his own to Saint Peter, they pillaged the whole city and divided the spoils, when they had killed all the inhabitants.[^[57]] As for the Genoese, they found a relic in their booty, precious indeed. It was no other than the Cup of the Holy Grail, which they bore away in triumph. How its authenticity was established does not appear, nor is there, so far as we know, any subsequent account of its fate. The Christians selected an archbishop. There was a poor and ignorant priest called Baldwin. He had tattooed his forehead with the sign of the cross, and made money by pretending that it was a miraculous sign. Everybody knew that he was an impostor, but probably because the pilgrims insisted on believing in his sanctity, and in order to conciliate this important element of the population, he was chosen to be the archbishop.

[57]. They kept the women, and made them grind corn all day with the handmills.

The Egyptian Caliph, whose plan of operation seems to have been to send constant reinforcements to Ascalon, and use that strong place as a centre from which to harass the Christians, gave orders to try, with the coming of spring, another incursion. Baldwin met the advanced guard of the Egyptian troops near Ramleh. He had got together three hundred knights and nine hundred foot. The Saracens were ten times as numerous. The king, tying a white banner to his lance, led the way, and performed prodigies of valour. And, as usual, the Mohammedans were seized with a panic and fled.