Jocelyn was the old enemy of Baldwin; he was supposed, but unjustly, to bear him a grudge for the ill-treatment he had received at the count’s hands; his advice, therefore, bore the more weight, as it seemed entirely disinterested. Arnold, the patriarch, seconded him, and Baldwin was chosen king unanimously. Whether Jocelyn’s advice was altogether disinterested may be doubted. At all events he received from the new king the investiture of the principality of Edessa, as a reward for his services. Baldwin was crowned, like his predecessor, in Bethlehem, on Ascension Day.
The new king, the date of whose birth is uncertain, was the son of Count Hugh of Rethel and his wife Milicent. He was the cousin of Godfrey, with whom he started for Palestine. He had two brothers, one of whom was the Archbishop of Rheims, and the other succeeded his father, but dying without children, the archbishop gave up his episcopate, and married, in order to continue the family. Baldwin himself was above the ordinary stature, wonderfully active, skilful in horsemanship, and of great strength and bravery. His hair, we are told, was thin and fair, and already streaked with grey. He was married to an Armenian princess, by whom he had several daughters, but no sons. He wore a long Oriental beard, but though he conformed in many respects to Eastern habits, he had not forgotten his early piety, and scrupulously obeyed the rules of the church, insomuch that we are told that his knees were covered with callosities, the result of many prayers and penances. He was already well-advanced in years.
Count Eustace, hearing in France of his brother’s death, set off at once to take possession of the kingdom which was his by right of succession. But on arriving in Apulia, he heard the news of Baldwin’s succession, and immediately turned back, content to spend the rest of his days in obscurity, rather than disturb the peace of Palestine by an unseemly rivalry.
The first year of the king’s reign was marked by the customary invasion of the kingdom from Egypt and the dispersion, this time without a battle, of the invaders. The next was a year of calamity. For Count Roger of Aleppo, with his little army, was utterly defeated by the Turks, the Count himself being slain, and a large number of his knights taken prisoner and treated with the greatest cruelty. Nor was this all. Ilgazi, the Prince of Aleppo, who had defeated Roger, died, and was succeeded by his much abler nephew, Balak, who made an incursion into the territory of Edessa, and captured Count Jocelyn with his nephew, Galeran, and sixty knights. Thus the two most important out-lying provinces were deprived of their rulers. Moreover, the whole country was afflicted with countless swarms of locusts and rats, which devoured every green thing, so that the Christians were threatened with famine. Baldwin called together a general council at Nablous, and the patriarch preached to the people on the sinfulness of their lives, pointing out that their afflictions were due to their own crimes and excesses, and calling on them to amend and lead better lives. After confession and protestations of repentance, the king and his army moved northwards to Antioch and defeated the Turks in their turn.
Certain small changes in the internal administration, only of importance as pointing to the decadence of the old ferocity against the Saracens, were introduced by the king in Jerusalem. For, besides remitting the old heavy dues on exportation and importation, so far as the Latins were concerned, Baldwin granted a sort of free trade to all Syrians, Greeks, “and even Saracens,” to bring provisions of all kinds into the city for sale without fear of exaction. His wise idea was to increase the population of the city, and therefore its strength, by making it the most privileged town in his realm, and the central market of Palestine.
But in 1124 a misfortune fell upon him which might have been fatal to his kingdom. For, after Jocelyn’s capture, he led his forces into Edessa, and there, marching one night in February, without taking proper precautions, his men being allowed to disperse[disperse] in various directions, he fell into an ambuscade, and was made prisoner himself by Balak, who sent him in irons to the fortress of Khortbert.
And now the country was without a ruler. In this emergency, the barons assembled at Acre and elected as Regent, Eustace Garnier, the Baron of Sidon and Cæsarea, who proved worthy of their confidence. The story of the king’s captivity is like a chapter of a romance. For while he was in fetters with Jocelyn at Khortbert, certain Armenians, fifty in number, swore a solemn oath to one another that the king should be released. Disguising themselves as monks,[[59]] and hiding daggers under their long robes, they went to the citadel, and putting on a melancholy and injured air, they pretended to have been attacked and robbed on the road, and demanded to be admitted to the governor of the castle, in order to have redress. They were allowed to enter, and directly they got within the walls they drew out their weapons, slaughtered every Saracen, made themselves masters of the place, and released the king from his fetters. But not from his prison, for the Turks, furious at the intelligence, which spread quickly enough, gathered together from all quarters, resolved to bar their escape till Balak could send reinforcements strong enough to retake the place. After a hurried council, it was resolved within the fort that Jocelyn should attempt the perilous task of escaping. Three men were deputed to go with him, two to accompany him on his road, and one to return to the king with the news that he had safely got through the enemy. Jocelyn took a solemn oath that he would lose no time in raising an army of assistance, and swore, besides, that he would neither shave his heard, nor drink wine, till the king was released. He then slipped out under cover of the darkness, and the king, resolved to defend the castle till the last, set to work on his fortifications.
[59]. This is William of Tyre’s account. He says that, according to others, they were disguised as merchants.
That night Balak had a fearful dream. He thought that he met the terrible Jocelyn, alone and unprotected, and that the Christian knight, hurling him to the ground, tore out both his eyes. Awaking with fright, he sent off messengers in hot haste to behead Jocelyn at once. They arrived too late. The castle was taken and the bird was flown. But the flight of the count was full of dangers. He got safely enough to the banks of the Euphrates, but here an unforeseen difficulty met him, for he could not swim. How to cross the river? They had two leathern bottles. These, inflated, they tied round Jocelyn’s body, and the other two men, who could swim, steering by the right and left, managed to get him across the water. Then they went on, bare-footed, hungry, and thirsty, till Jocelyn could travel no farther, and, covering himself with branches, in order to conceal himself, he lay down to sleep. One of the attendants, meantime, was sent off to find some inhabitant of the country, and either beg, buy, or rob provisions of some kind. He met an Armenian peasant loaded with grapes and wild figs, whom he brought along to his master. The peasant knew him. “Hail, Lord Jocelyn!” he cried, at sight of the ragged knight. “At these words,” says Foulcher, “which the count would fain not have heard, he replied, all in alarm but nevertheless with mildness, ‘I am not he whom you name; may the Lord help him wherever he be,’
“‘Seek not,’ said the peasant, ‘to conceal thyself. Fear nothing, and tell me what evil has befallen thee.’