Jerusalem, the City of Herod and Saladin

by Walter Besant; Edward Henry Palmer

It was at this time that the wretched remains of the new armies of pilgrims arrived in Palestine. Their numbers were not large, as we have seen, but their arrival was the most opportune thing that could have happened for Baldwin. For, having seen the sacred places, they were preparing for their return home when the news arrived of the coming into Palestine of another vast army of Egyptians. They were, as usual, in the neighbourhood of Ascalon. Baldwin hastened to meet them with a handful of knights, among whom was the unfortunate Count of Blois and the Duke of Burgundy. They were all cut to pieces, Baldwin, himself, escaping with the greatest difficulty, and almost alone, to Ramleh. In the morning he found himself, with his little band, in a place without any means of defence, and surrounded by an enormous army, through which it was hopeless to think of cutting a way. And then occurred one of the most singular instances of gratitude on record. A stranger, a noble Mohammedan, was introduced to the king. “I am,” he said, “one to whom you have shown yourself generous. You took my wife prisoner. On the way she was seized with the pains of labour. You made a tent for her on the wayside, laid her in it, and left her provisions, water, and female slaves to help her. So her life was saved. Now, I know the roads which are not guarded. Come with me, but come alone, and I will take you safely through the midst of our army.”

Baldwin, who had really been guilty of this humanity to a poor Mohammedan woman, was constrained to accept the generous offer. He went away alone with his benefactor. The emir kept his word and escorted him to a place of safety, where he left him. All his companions at Ramleh were put to death before he had time to help them.

Meantime, the greatest consternation reigned in Jerusalem. The king was reported to be a captive; the great bell tolled; soldiers and knights gathered together; the gates were shut; and the priests and women betook themselves to prayer. The king, however, at Jaffa, collecting all the troops he could raise, prohibited any pilgrim from leaving the country, and went forth once more with all his force. Their war cry was, “Christ conquers, and Christ reigns, Christ commands,” in place of the old “Dieu le veut,” and “Dieu aide.” After a battle, which lasted a whole day—the spirit of the Egyptians had been raised by their temporary success—victory declared for the Christians, and the Mohammedans fled with a loss of four thousand men: the smallness of their loss shows that the victory was not one of the fights like that of Ascalon, where a panic made the Mohammedans absolutely helpless.

The story of this invasion is much confused, and told by the chroniclers in different ways, only one of them relating the gratitude of the Saracen. But we may fairly assume that another of the periodical invasions took place, which was repelled, though with difficulty, by the valour of Baldwin. The arms of the Christians were not, however, always crowned with success, and an ill-omened defeat took place at Harran, where Baldwin du Bourg and Jocelyn were taken prisoners. Bohemond, who had been released, was there with Tancred, and both escaped with great difficulty. It was evident that the Christian strength lay chiefly in the terror inspired by a long series of victories. Once defeated, the prestige of the conquerors was gone. And when the Mohammedans managed to recover their old self-confidence, the kingdom of Jerusalem was as good as lost, and its destruction was only a matter of time.

Baldwin’s chief difficulty was not in raising armies, for there were always plenty of men to be got among the pilgrims, but in paying an army when he had raised it. The pilgrims brought daily large sums in offerings to the Church of the Sepulchre, to which the patriarch acted officially as treasurer. To him the king went in his distress, and demanded that some of the money should be put into his hands to pay the soldiers with. Dagobert asked for a day’s delay, and then brought the king two hundred marks, with a polite expression of regret that he could do no more. Arnold, who was now Chancellor of the Holy Sepulchre, laughed aloud at the meagreness of this offering, and informed the king that immense treasures had been bestowed upon the church, which were all concealed if not appropriated by the patriarch. Baldwin thereupon urged again on the patriarch the necessity of his contributing towards the support of the army. Dagobert, relying on his friendship with the legate, disdained to take any notice of the king’s representation, and continued, with Cardinal Maurice, to use for his own festivals and private luxuries the riches of the Church. One day, when Baldwin was at his wits’ end for want of money, some one, probably Arnold, brought him a report of the dissolute and selfish life led by Dagobert. “Even at this moment,” he said, “the patriarch is feasting and drinking.” The king took some of his officers with him, and forcing his way into the patriarch’s private apartments, found him and Maurice at a table spread with all the luxuries of the East. Baldwin flew into a royal rage, and swore a royal oath. “By heavens!” he cried, “you feast while we fast; you spend on your gluttony the offerings of the faithful, and take no notice of our distress. As there is a living God, you shall not touch another single offering, you shall not fill your bellies with dainties even once more, unless you pay my knights. By what right do you take the gifts made to the Sepulchre by the pilgrims, and change them into delicacies, while we, who have purchased the city with our blood, who bear incessantly so many fatigues and combats, are deprived of the fruits of their generosity? Drink with us of the cup that we drink now, and shall continue to drink in these times of bitterness, or prepare yourself to receive no more the goods which belong to the church.” Upon which the patriarch, little used to have things set forth in this plain and unmistakeable manner, allowed himself to fall into wrath, and made use of the effective but well-worn text, that those who serve the altar must live by the altar. But he hardly, as yet, knew his man. The king, actually not afraid of a priest, swore again, in the most solemn manner, and in spite of the entreaties of the legate, Cardinal Maurice, that if the patriarch refused to help him he would help himself. There was, indeed, little doubt possible but that he would keep his word. Dagobert, therefore, gave way, and promised to maintain thirty knights. But he soon got into arrears, and, finally, after repeated quarrels with the king, and after being publicly accused of peculation—very possibly he stole right and left for the glory of the Church—he retired to Antioch, hoping that Bohemond would take up his quarrel. In this he was disappointed, for Bohemond had neither the power nor the inclination. Dagobert never returned to the city. Affecting to consider him deposed, the king put in his place a humble and pious monk of great ignorance, named Ebremer. He, however, was speedily displaced, and on the deposition of Dagobert, Arnold was, at last, promoted to the see. He died a year or two afterwards, and in his death William of Tyre sees a plainly marked indication of the Divine displeasure. By others it was read differently.

The career of Bohemond was drawing to an end. Shut up in Antioch, and attacked both by Greeks and Saracens, he could hardly defend himself. But his spirit was as strong as ever. Causing a rumour to be spread that he was dead, he was carried in a coffin on board a ship, and escaped thus through the Greek fleet. Arrived in Italy he went to the pope, and with all his rough and strong eloquence he pleaded his cause, which he represented as that of the Christians against the Greek emperor, the most flagrant of criminals. He went thence to France, with the pope’s express authority, to raise men for another Crusade, this time against Alexis. King Philip gave him his daughter, Constance, in marriage; the princes and knights enrolled themselves in his army; he crossed over to Spain, and thence to Italy, finding everywhere the same success, and awakening the same enthusiasm. His army assembled. He led them first to the city of Durazzo, which he attacked, but without success; the city held out; his troops, who discovered that they had enlisted under his banner solely to advance his personal interest and to gratify his blind and unreasoning hatred against the Emperor of Constantinople, deserted him; and the proud Norman had to return to Tarento no richer, except by Antioch, for all his conquests and ambitions. A treaty was concluded with the emperor, which gave him this city. He was preparing to break the conditions of the agreement when a fever seized him, and he died, greatly to the relief of Alexis.

About the same time died gallant old Raymond of Toulouse, still fighting at Tripoli. He was besieging the town with only four hundred men at his back, and with that heroic self-confidence which never deserted the first Crusaders, when either some smoke from Greek fire affected him, or he fell from the roof of a house, and so came to an end.

Tancred, the bravest, if not the best, of all, was to follow within a very few years, and Baldwin found himself for the last six years of his reign without a single one of the old princes, except his cousin, Baldwin du Bourg, to quarrel with, to help, or to look to for help. And, still more to complicate matters, the crusade, which the ambition of Bohemond had directed against the Greek Empire for his own purposes, had alienated the sympathies, such as they were, and the assistance of the Greek Empire, and deprived the Christian Kingdom of every hope from that quarter. Then Tancred and Baldwin du Bourg, as soon as the latter got his release from captivity, began to quarrel, and, turn by turn, called in the assistance of the Saracens. They were persuaded to desist by the exhortations of the king, who told Tancred plainly that unless he ceased to make war against Christians, all the Christians in the East would make common cause against him. The only resources left to the king were those derived from the constant influx of pilgrims, and therefore of fighting men, and the assistance he derived from the annual visit of the Genoese and Pisan fleets; these came, actuated solely by the desire for merchandise and plunder. In return for concessions and the chance of booty, they fought the Egyptian fleets, and co-operated with Baldwin in his operations against sea-side places. Thus, in 1104, after an unsuccessful attempt upon the town, Baldwin took advantage of the presence of sixty-six Genoese galleys to lay siege to Acre. He invited them to assist him in his enterprise, first, for the love of Christ, and secondly, in the hope of reaping a golden harvest out of victory. The Genoese consented, on the condition of receiving a third of the revenue, and perpetual rights which would be obtained by the capture of the place, and of a street being entirely given up to themselves, where they might exercise their own laws and justice. These conditions, exorbitant as they were, were accepted, and siege was laid in due form, Baldwin investing the place by land and the Genoese by sea. The time was almost gone by for unconditional surrender and capture by assault, and the Christians fought with machines and rams for twenty days before the enemy capitulated. And it was then only on honourable terms. The inhabitants were to take out their wives, families, and whatever they could carry. Those who preferred to remain behind were to be allowed to continue in the peaceful occupation of their homes, on condition of paying an annual tribute to the king. It will be seen that a short space of five years had already materially altered the relative positions of Christians and Mohammedans. The conditions were ill kept, for a large number of the Saracens were massacred by the unruly sailors, and Baldwin seems to have been powerless to interfere. This was, however, a most important position, and threw open a convenient harbour for the Genoese.

Year after year an army came from Egypt and attempted an invasion of Palestine, using Ascalon as the basis of operations and the depôt of supplies. But every year the attack grew more feeble and the rout of the Egyptians more easy.

The next important place attacked[attacked] by the help of the Genoese was Tripoli. After the death of Count Raymond, his affairs in the East were conducted by his nephew, William of Cerdagne, until Bertram, Raymond’s son, should arrive. He came in 1109, and immediately began to quarrel with his cousin, who called in the aid of Tancred. Baldwin, however, interfered and substituted a settlement of all the disputed points between them. By his arrangement William kept all the places he had himself conquered, and Bertram had the rest. Moreover, if either died without heirs, Bertram was to have all. A short time after, William was accidentally killed by an arrow in trying to settle a quarrel among his men at arms, and tranquillity among the princes was assured. Operations, meantime, had been going on against the little town of Biblios, which succumbed, after a show of resistance, on the same terms as those obtained by the people of Acre. The strong places which still held out were Tripoli, Tyre, Sidon, Beyrout, and Ascalon. Baldwin’s plan was to take them in detail, and always by the aid of the Genoese fleet. He joined his forces to those of Bertram, and the siege of Tripoli was vigorously taken in hand.