It illustrates the untrustworthy character of the materials from which a history of this kingdom has to be drawn that Albert of Aix, one of the most careful of the chroniclers, absolutely passes over the capture of this important place in silence. The inhabitants defended themselves as well as they were able, but seeing no hope of assistance they capitulated on conditions of safety. These were granted, but pending the negotiations, the savage Genoese sailors, getting over the wall by means of ladders and ropes, began to slaughter the people. “Every Saracen,” says Foulcher de Chartres, who has a touch of humour, “who fell into their hands, experienced no worse misfortune than to lose his head; and although this was done without the knowledge of the chiefs, the heads thus lost could not be afterwards put on again.” All the chronicles but one agree in preserving silence over a barbarism almost worse than the breaking of a treaty. It was this: the Christians found in Tripoli a splendid library. It had been collected in the course of many peaceful years by the family of Ibn-Ammar, who were the hereditary princes, under the Caliph of Cairo, of the place. It consisted of a hundred thousand volumes, and a wretched priest blundering into the place, and finding this enormous mass of books written in “execrable,” because unknown characters, called in the assistance of soldiers as ignorant as himself, and destroyed them all. The Tripolitans had, many years before, placed themselves under the protection of the Egyptian Caliph. They looked now for his help. In the midst of the siege a ship managed to put in with a message from the sovereign. He promised them no assistance, and encouraged them to no resistance. Only he recollected that there was in the city a beautiful female slave whom he desired to be sent to him, and asked for some wood of the apricot tree to make him lutes. After this, the people capitulated.
The next place to fall was Beyrout, and through the same assistance. But in this case the place was carried by assault, and a terrible carnage ensued, stayed only by the order of the king. And after the victory and the conquest of Sarepta, the Genoese retired, carrying with them very many of Baldwin’s best auxiliaries, and left him with his usually small force, barely enough for purposes of defence. But fortune favoured him again. The fame of the Crusades had taken a long time to travel northwards, but in time it had reached to Norway and kindled the enthusiasm even of the Scandinavians. Hardly had the Genoese left the shores of Palestine, when Sigard, son or brother of King Magnus of Norway, arrived at Jaffa with ten thousand Norwegians, among whom were a large number of English. He was a young man, says Foulcher, of singular beauty, and was welcomed by Baldwin with all the charm of manner which made him the friend of all whom he desired to please. The sturdy Norsemen, who desired nothing so much as to fight with the Saracens, met the king’s wishes half way. They were ready to go wherever he pleased, provided it led to fighting, and without any other pay than their provisions. These were better allies than the greedy Genoese, and Baldwin joyfully led them to Sidon, where for a little while they had fighting enough. The Sidonians seeing no hope of escape, endeavoured, says William of Tyre, to compass their own deliverance by the assassination of the king. Baldwin had a Saracen servant who professed extreme attachment to his person. He had apostatized to the Christian faith, and received the king’s own name at the font of baptism. To him the chiefs of Sidon made overtures. They offered him boundless wealth in their city, if he would contrive to assassinate the king. Baldwin the servant agreed to commit the deed, and would have done it, had it not been that certain Christians in the city, getting to know of the plot, conveyed information of it by means of an arrow which they fired into the camp. The king called a council. The unfortunate servant was “examined,” which probably meant tortured, confessed his guilty intentions, and was promptly hanged. This appears to be the first mention of an attempted assassination, a method which the Saracens, by means of the celebrated Ismaelite sect, the “Assassins,” introduced much later on. The story bears the impress of improbability. Moreover, immediately afterwards, we are told, that Baldwin granted the city easy terms of capitulation, with permission for the inhabitants to stay where they were, provided only they paid tribute. The conditions were faithfully observed, the Norwegians being either less bloodthirsty or more amenable to discipline—probably both—than the Genoese. They went away after this, and Baldwin, having made an unsuccessful attempt on Tyre, which was too strong for his diminished forces, retired to Acre. In the same year died Tancred, who recommended his young wife, Cecilia, to marry Pons, the son of Bertram, who was already dead, as soon as he should be of age. Roger, the son of his sister, was to hold all his states in trust for young Bohemond, and Pons.
During these contests on the seaboard, the Saracens inland had been quietly composing their differences and arranging for a combined assault upon the common enemy. In 1112 they had essayed an expedition against Edessa, but received a check serious enough to make them fall back in disorder. Next year, with a far larger force, they formed a sort of encampment south of the Lake of Tiberias, and overran the country, pillaging and burning as far as they dared. Baldwin hastily sent for Roger of Antioch and the Count of Tripoli, to come to his assistance. Meantime, with a small army, of about five thousand in all, he marched to meet them. With his usual impetuosity he charged into a small advance troop of cavalry which the Turks threw out as a trap. These turned and fled. Baldwin pursued, but fell into an ambuscade, whence he escaped with the greatest difficulty, leaving his banner, that white streamer which he bore at the head of his troops in every battle, behind him. The patriarch, now that same Arnold, “Satan’s eldest son,” who was with him, had too a narrow escape. In this disastrous day the Christians lost about twelve hundred men. Next morning came the king’s auxiliaries, and the Christian army, leaving their camp and baggage, retreated into the mountains, where they waited for reinforcements. This was the most serious check yet given to the victorious career of the Christians. The people of Ascalon, as usual, ready to take advantage of every opportunity, sallied forth and invested Jerusalem, now almost entirely without troops. But they do not seem to have attempted a regular siege, or, at least, were unsuccessful, and, after ravaging the country for miles round, they retreated to their own city. Probably their experience of Baldwin’s vigour was greater than their confidence in the success of their coreligionists, and they thought certain plunder was better than the dubious chances of a protracted siege.
Fortunately, it was now late in the summer. With the autumn came the first shiploads of pilgrims, and consequently reinforcements for Baldwin. The Saracens, satisfied with their victory, and fearing reprisals, judged it prudent to retire, and accordingly fell back on Damascus, where their general-in-chief, Maudúd, was murdered. It was well for the Christian kingdom that they went away when they did. For a universal panic had seized on all the cities, and it wanted but an unsuccessful engagement to put an end to the Christian power altogether. More misfortunes fell upon them. There was a terrible famine at Edessa and in Antioch; and an earthquake was felt through the whole of Syria, from north to south. Whole cities of Cilicia were thrown into ruins. Thirteen towns fell in Edessa; and in Antioch many churches were destroyed. In the famine which devastated Edessa, Baldwin du Bourg looked for aid from Count Jocelyn, but was disappointed. Moreover, when he sent deputies to Antioch, these were insulted by Jocelyn’s knights, who taunted them with the apathy and indolence of their lord. Baldwin du Bourg determined on revenge. Pretending to be sick he sent for Jocelyn, who came without suspicion, and was received by the other in bed. Then, reproaching him in the bitterest terms for ingratitude, he ordered him to be thrown into prison, loaded with chains, and deprived him of all his possessions. As soon as Jocelyn was free he went to join the king at Jerusalem, and seems, like an honest knight and good fellow, as he was, to have entirely forgiven his ill-treatment. Certainly he deserved it.
The next year saw another defeat of the Saracens. The Emir was accused of complicity in the murder of Maudúd, and a vast army was gathered together, against Damascus in the first instance, and the Christians in the second. Baldwin entered into alliance with the Emir, and though the Caliph’s army avoided a battle, so formidable a coalition sufficed to drive back the invaders. Nevertheless, the Christians looked with horror on an alliance so unnatural. Count Roger of Antioch at the same time dispersed the Turkish army in alliance with Toghtegin, and, for a time at least, Palestine was free from enemies on the north and east.
Baldwin was not, however, disposed to sit down in peace and rest. He employed what little leisure he could get in populating his city of Jerusalem by persuading the Christians across the Jordan to give up their pastures and meadows, and come under his protection. He founded the stronghold of Montreal, in Moab, on the site of the old city of Diban, and he made a second journey to the east and south of his kingdom, with twelve hundred horse and four hundred foot, penetrating as far, we are told, as the Red Sea, probably to Petra—Albert of Aix says Horeb, “where he built in eighteen days a new castle.” These affairs being settled, and there being every appearance of tranquillity in all directions, he turned his thoughts to the conquest of Egypt, and actually set off to accomplish this with an army of one hundred and sixteen knights and four hundred foot soldiers. They penetrated as far as Pharamia, near the ancient Pelusium, which the inhabitants abandoned in a panic. They found here food and drink in plenty, and rested for two whole days. On the third, certain of the more prudent came to Baldwin: “We are few in number,” they said; “our arrival is known in all the country; it is only three days’ march from here to Cairo. Let us therefore take counsel how best to get out of the place.”
The king, seeing the wisdom of this advice, ordered the walls to be thrown down, and all the houses of the town to be set on fire. But whether it was the heat of the day, or the effect of over-exertion, he felt in the evening violent pains, which increased hourly. To be sick in the East was then to be on the point of death, and, despairing of recovery, he sent for his chiefs, and acquainted them with the certainty of his end. All burst into tears and lamentations, quite selfishly, it would seem, and on their own accounts, “for no one had any hope, from that moment, of ever seeing Jerusalem again.” Then the king raised himself and spoke to them, despite his sufferings. “Why, my brothers and companions in arms, should the death of a single man strike down your hearts and oppress you with feebleness in this land of pilgrimage, and in the midst of our enemies? Remember, in the name of God, that there are many among you whose strength is as great or greater than mine. Quit yourselves, then, like men, and devise the means of returning sword in hand, and maintaining the kingdom of Jerusalem according to your oaths.” And then, as if for a last prayer, he implored them not to bury his body in the land of the stranger, but to take it to Jerusalem, and lay it beside his brother Godfrey. His soldiers burst into tears. How could they carry, in the heat of summer, his body so far? But the king sent for Odo, his cook. “Know,” he said, “that I am about to die. If you have loved me in health, preserve your fidelity in death. Open my body as soon as the breath is out of it, fill me with salt and spice, and bear me to Jerusalem, to be buried in the forms of the Church.”
They bore him along, still living. On the third day of the week the end came, and Baldwin died. With his last breath he named his brother Eustace as his successor, but if he would not take the crown, he gave them liberty to choose any other. Odo the cook executed his wishes; his bowels were buried at Al Arish, and the little army, in sadness and with misgivings of evil, returned to Jerusalem, bringing with them the king who had so often led them to victory.
It was on Palm Sunday when they arrived. They met, in the valley of Jehoshaphat, the people of the city all dressed in festival garb, and singing psalms of joy, to celebrate the feast. Joy was turned into mourning, and the procession of clergy which was descending the Mount of Olives met, “by express order of God, and an inconceivable chance,” the little troop which bore back the remains of the king. They buried him beside his brother: Baldwin du Bourg, the Count of Edessa, being the chief mourner, as he was his nearest relation.[[58]]
[58]. The epitaph on his tomb described him as