Next he assembled his knights and rode to Antioch, thence to Jerusalem where he praised God and made an offering of the shackles he had worn in Balak’s dungeon, hanging them reverently upon Mount Calvary in recognition of his captivity and glorious liberation. One shackle was made of iron, the other silver.
After three days in the Holy City he set out to rescue his king. But when he reached Kharpurt he learned that Balak had stormed the citadel. King Baldwin du Bourg and Lord Galeran were once again captive and had been sent under close guard to the distant city of Harran. As to the Armenians who helped Joscelin escape, Balak cruelly tortured them, ordering them burnt, hanged, flayed, thrown from ramparts, buried alive, bound to stakes as targets. Balak’s harem was quartered at the citadel and by various accounts these brave Armenians, succumbing to allurements of the flesh, delighted in Balak’s women. God knows the truth. However it was, Lord Joscelin went mad with rage and devastated the countryside.
Sixteen months or more Baldwin du Bourg languished in chains while the Franks negotiated his release. Turks demanded a kingly ransom, eighty thousand gold dinars with certain lands belonging to Antioch. After twenty thousand dinars had been paid, King Baldwin was freed, leaving hostage his youngest daughter Joveta, aged five. Midsummer of that year 1124 he rode away from prison on the handsome charger he was riding when he decided to camp in a muddy field near the Euphrates. Turks had kept this animal well. Also, they lavished gifts upon him. Gold helmet, a rich robe, embroidered buskins. Accordingly he rode to Antioch like some Oriental sultan.
Bernard, who was patriarch in those days, pointed out that while Baldwin might be overlord and regent of Antioch he had promised to surrender land that was not his to give. The king heard this with great satisfaction and hastily notified the Turk that he would, as agreed, remit the full amount of gold. However, he could not lawfully cede the land. Documents assert that in reprisal the child princess Joveta was handled lasciviously. If so, we can but ask with others from ages past. Why thus, Lord God?
Joveta was at length ransomed, in due time after she had grown to womanhood becoming abbess of the convent of Saint Lazarus in Bethany. Therefore we note how the Creator determines each event from beginning to end.
Anon the heathen governor of Manbij, puffed with pride, thinking himself superior to Balak, decided to revolt. Soon enough here came Balak with five thousand horsemen, invited the governor to a conference outside the walls. Then what did Balak do but perfidiously take the governor’s life. So the people, believing their own lives forfeit, sought help from Christians. Lord Joscelin hastened out of Antioch. Fulcher tells how a desperate battle took place. Horses whinnied, asses brayed, camels grumbled. Fields and roads glistered in fresh blood. Three times did Lord Joscelin repulse the Turks. Three times they returned to fight. Thirty Frankish knights and sixty footmen who were driving sumpter beasts went to sleep with the Lord while three thousand advocates of the devil plunged bellowing into the fiery pit. So much according to Fulcher. Yet, as we in our day could attest, chroniclers are wont to praise their countrymen, by shameless mistruth exaggerating the number of enemies slain while misprizing their own. Be that as it may, here came a Turkish arrow from the ramparts of Manbij to strike Balak. Kamal al-Din relates that he wrenched out the shaft and spat with contempt, saying this would be the death of Islam.
Count Joscelin, fearing he had escaped, ordered Turkish corpses to be examined. By insignia on his armor they found him so his head was lopped off. The soldier who brought it to Joscelin got forty nomismata, which is to say forty pieces of gold. Joscelin despatched Balak’s head to Jerusalem as proof that he would trouble the Holy Land no further. And the squire who brought such joyful news found himself elevated to the rank of knight. And all who contemplated the bloody face in the sack gave thanks because a raging dragon that feasted on pilgrims had lost his appetite.
Archbishop William relates that Count Joscelin himself met the Turk, hurled him to earth and took his head. Through the mist of centuries what may be resolved? Only that Balak’s vision came true since he had dreamt of Joscelin scooping out his eyes and whoever cuts off a man’s head destroys his sight.
In the following year King Baldwin erected a castle near Beyrouth at a place called the hill of the sword, Mons Glavianus, because those condemned to death are brought here for execution. He did this to convince Saracen peasants they ought to pay taxes, which they had been reluctant to do. And when these unbelievers looked up from their fields at a castle bristling with Christian soldiers they amended their habit. Is not the coercion of a sword to be admired? Has not Almighty God so enjoined us? Thou shalt rule with a rod of iron.
Now in the year 1127 since the birth of our Savior, in the fifth indiction, a host of rats marched across the Holy Land. They were observed to seize an ox by its hindquarters and smother and eat him. They devoured seven powerful rams and numberless small creatures, then scurried up the mountain of Tyre to quench their thirst. Savage wind and rain drove them into the confinement of valleys where multitudes perished. For a long while those valleys stank with corruption. What is this, if not some allegory of our time?
Are not the articles of Christian faith described with pictures and with letters? Yet no man is able to describe the Trinity, nor the Holy Ghost, nor anything so vast because of many sins and evils we commit, which weigh down mortal life, which blind us to the sovereign light. Hence, disaster befell the Franks. Bohemond’s son marched along the river Jihan and proceeded carelessly. They say this prince was of great stature, tall, in aspect like his father, with an air of high breeding from his mother Constance. He expected to recoup Anazarbus, which was lost. But all at once Danishmend Turks surprised him and destroyed his army. He was slain because these Turks failed to recognize him, otherwise they would have made him captive for the huge ransom he would fetch. As it was, they embalmed the handsome blond head, fashioned a silver box, and presented this trophy to the caliph. Some argue that Prince Bohemond now wears a finer crown than any he might have worn on earth. Others say that if we but acknowledged the power of Jesus Christ, recognizing how we live beneath His feet, we should never do wrong.
One year later King Baldwin du Bourg lay dying. At his request he was borne to the house of the patriarch close by the Holy Sepulcher so that his spirit might bask in its radiance. He summoned the nobles, together with his eldest daughter Melisende and her husband Fulk d’Anjou, bidding all to honor them as sovereigns upon his dissolution. He requested the habit of a monk, which was put on him, and he was admitted a canon of the assembly. No more was this complete than the second crowned king of Jerusalem ascended to glory. Ibn al-Qalanisi, a misbeliever, took note, calling him an old man polished by time and bad luck, remarking that Frankish authority now descended to the inexperienced hands of Fulk d’Anjou who had but recently arrived.
That same year Count Joscelin gave up the ghost. While exploring the province he came upon a turret of sundried brick with enemies of the true faith inside. Therefore he instructed his men to dig at the foundation and most unwisely examined the shaft they dug. Now the body is a vulnerable, worthless master and when bricks dropped into the tunnel he was at once buried, bones cracked. They pulled him out half-dead and returned to the castle at Turbessel. Here for a long time Joscelin’s body lingered, detaining his spirit, which struggled to depart. Then all unexpected came a messenger. Turks on the northeast frontier were moving toward the fortress of Kaisun. Lord Joscelin told his son to call up the army but his son offered excuses, saying they had not enough men, saying this Turk, the sultan of Iconium, had brought a mighty host. With sorrow and bitterness the old count understood what sort of a man his son would be. Therefore he himself called up the army and directed that a litter be prepared, since he was unable to ride or march. It is said he traveled some distance on his litter when here came Geoffrey the Monk with news. These Turks, hearing that Count Joscelin advanced, conferred among themselves, lifted the siege of Kaisun and fled. So when he learned they were gone he had himsel
f lowered to the earth. He raised both arms to heaven and with tears and sighs he spoke. Lord God, I praise and give thanks as best I can that You have thus honored me, that You have been so merciful and generous that enemies flee at my approach, though I am nearly dead.
Having spoken, he commended his spirit to God and expired. Thus do men, like events, rise and fall, waves of an inland sea. Mortal crises reach their apex merely to decline. Others follow, each within the boundary of inimitable Providence. Therefore we rejoice at logic and natural succession.
The less than valiant son of Count Joscelin is said to have been of slight stature, dark face pocked like the Devil’s own, bulging eyes and a monstrous nose. Licentious, drunken, dissolute, this youth fell heir to the properties but governed foolishly, by reason of which he lost control. Although he bore that name, Archbishop William notes, he was not his father’s equal.
Similarly, disorder came to threaten Jerusalem. Fulk d’Anjou governed by virtue of marriage to the heiress Melisende. The marriage net could not hold. Queen Melisende grew enamoured of a cousin, Hugh Puiset. She lay with him. King Fulk understood, but meekly swallowed the bitter draft. Others would not. Lord Walter Garnier stood up in assembly to denounce Hugh Puiset, charged him with plotting to murder the king, which charge Hugh denied. It was thought best to adjudicate this matter through combat, according to Frankish custom. On the appointed day Hugh Puiset could not be found, having skipped away to Ascalon where he took refuge among Mahometans. While there he made some perfidious compact with God’s enemies, which was high treason. Still, Queen Melisende and the patriarch of Jerusalem counseled mercy. King Fulk obliged. Hugh Puiset would be pardoned after three years in exile, small payment indeed.
Hugh Puiset returned to Jerusalem while waiting for a ship that would carry him into exile. And one day as he played dice in the street of the furriers a Breton knight stabbed him. At once the crowd began muttering against King Fulk. How could this happen, said they, without knowledge of the king? Did not the king order it?
When Fulk heard this sentiment he moved to exonerate himself. He put the knight on trial. And there being no doubt of guilt the knight was sentenced to mutilation. First, his arms and legs were chopped off. However, King Fulk directed that his tongue be left in his mouth, which was shrewd. If the knight were unable to speak he could not make full confession, whereas with his tongue he might incriminate the king. But he did not. While life stirred in the bloody stump he declared that he stabbed Hugh Puiset in hope of gaining the king’s approval. In this way King Fulk acquitted himself. As for Hugh, upon recovering his health he sailed away despondent to live three years in Apulia.
This king of Jerusalem was by repute shorter than most men, affable, ruddy-faced like David whom the Lord found after His own heart, with a memory so exceeding poor he did not recognize his own domestics. Or if someone he had honored the previous day should arrive unannounced then he must ask the visitor’s name. It is said, too, that he was compassionate and generous, which traits are unusual with men of choleric hue. There was at court in those days some Genoese who had brought from Europe a large falcon and a bitch that was taught to hunt cranes. They worked together, the dog racing after the falcon, which would strike down a crane. Then the bitch would seize it. Emir Mu’in al-Din, when he visited King Fulk, greatly admired this falcon so the king took it away from the Genoese and presented it to the emir. Along the Damascus road, according to the chronicle of Usama ibn Munqidh, this fierce bird attacked gazelles. Although when they got back to Damascus it did not survive long enough to go hunting.
Be that as it may, King Fulk’s reign ended quickly during the year of our Lord 1143. This occurred in late autumn. Queen Melisende wished to go for a ride in the country, to the Springs of Oxen where once upon a time our father Adam found those beasts that enabled him to till the soil. Now as they rode along they startled a hare asleep in a furrow. The hare leapt up and bounded away, followed by shouts. King Fulk seized his lance to join the chase, urging his mount forward. However, God determined that his mount should stumble. King Fulk lunged headfirst to the ground, the saddle crushing his head so his brains gushed out from both ears and his nostrils. The king’s entourage, all overcome with horror, came rushing to his side but he was unable to speak or understand anything. And his queen felt pierced to the heart, shrieking, pulling her hair, tearing at her garments. She flung herself down beside him and embraced him. Crowds of people appeared, eager to behold this tragedy. Then the king was brought to Acre where he lived three days, unseeing, never moving. On the tenth day of November, during the eleventh year of his reign, King Fulk ascended. His remnant they carried from Acre to Jerusalem where he lies among his predecessors in the Church of the Sepulcher of our Lord at the foot of Mount Calvary, by the gate as one enters on the right.
He left two sons. Baldwin, aged thirteen. Amalric, seven. Thus it came about that a child was anointed and crowned Baldwin III, albeit during the minority of this child his mother ruled.
They say of Baldwin III that he was a graceful and slender youth, seemingly fortunate from birth, with a silky beard and a fresh vermeil complexion. He delighted in reading. History gave him pleasure so he would inquire of learned men about the deeds and character of kings from days past. Unlike his father, he remembered names, down to the lowliest servant. He did not trouble the endowment of churches, neither did he lie in wait for wealth of any sort, except games of dice at which he played more than was thought appropriate. Roiled by hunger of the skin, all too often he violated the marriage ties of others. Strangely, though, excessive food and drink disgusted him, calling such indulgence touchwood for the worst of crimes. Archbishop William of Tyre, who knew him in and about Jerusalem, since they were much the same age, said the youthful king’s hair was long and yellow and he behaved with infallible courtesy.
During the second year of his reign Edessa fell to unbelievers. This noble city had been among the first captured by Franks and so it remained for half a century owing to thick walls capable of withstanding bombardment. Mercenaries had been engaged to defend it because the citizens were Armenian and Chaldean traders, which is to say merchants not given to combat. As for Count Joscelin II, he did not live in the city but amused himself at Turbessel castle.
Zengi, atabeg of Mosul, appeared in November leading a host of vermin. His engineers dug under the walls of Edessa, buttressed tunnels with vertical beams and joists, smeared animal fat, sulfur, and naphtha in crevices to nourish the flame. Because the Franks had been guilty of intolerable sin a breach opened near the Gate of Hours on Christmas eve. A north wind pushed thick smoke into the eyes of defenders. Citizens fled to the citadel for protection but found the gate barred. This happened because Archbishop Hugh went out to organize a defense and instructed guards to admit no one until he returned. Thousands pressed against the locked gate struggling to breathe while the garrison followed orders. How many died is not known. They say the mound of corpses rode higher than the gate. Archbishop Hugh was slain. If he fell beneath a Turkish sword or smothered in the crowd has been argued to this day. Elsewhere in the city aged priests felt the Turkish blade while chanting prayers and holding up relics of martyrs. Zengi commanded his men to stop. He noticed an old bishop of the Jacobite church dragged around naked at the end of a rope, inquired who he was and learned this was Basil, a Syrian. Zengi reproached him for defending the city.
It is all for the best, said this aged bishop.
Why so? Zengi demanded.
You have gained what you wanted, the bishop answered, you have conquered Edessa. As for us, we have gained your respect.
Zengi gave Basil a robe and invited him to discuss how the city should be administered since the bishop was courageous and could speak Arabic. Further, he commanded his men to return what they had stolen, including a pubescent girl seized by one of his emirs. Through such clemency he expected to reassure Christian cities and persuade them to surrender. He razed every Frankish church in Edessa, but did not molest those belon
ging to Greeks and Armenians. He appointed a governor, garrisoned the citadel with Turks, and moved on to attack Saruj.
The siege of Edessa lasted four weeks, during which time the youthful Count Joscelin did not step outside his castle at Turbessel. Archbishop William denounced him for sloth and cowardice, yet others say he had not men enough to challenge the Turk. He sent word to Antioch and Jerusalem, but help arrived too late. So the pride of northern Syria was lost.
Muslims say of Zengi that when he paused at some hospitable city he would reject offers to sleep comfortably inside the walls but would choose a tent among his men. They say the honor of women concerned him and he was heard to remark that wives of soldiers ought to be sequestered during long absences to preserve them from corruption. Theological schools flourished while he was atabeg, schools that counseled against frivolous books, lewd jokes, cavorting on swings, and the wearing of satin robes. When this fierce Turk laid siege to Baalbek the garrison surrendered after he swore on the Koran to spare them. What did he do but crucify every man, selling wives and daughters into slavery. The governor he flayed and burnt. As the words of a madman are understood with difficulty, or not at all, how should Christians understand this Turk? Some think he was part Austrian. They believe his mother was Ida, that famously beautiful margravine captured alongside the river Eregli and secluded in the harem of Zengi’s father. What none dispute is that Yaruqtash, a eunuch of Frankish descent, murdered him. They say Zengi drank too much wine and fell asleep. Some noise wakened him and he saw Yaruqtash furtively sipping from the imperial goblet. Zengi cursed him, vowed to punish him on the morrow, rolled aside in drunken sleep. Then the eunuch thrust a dagger into his bowels and rode away to Jabar. Almost at once the second son of Zengi, Nur al-Din Mahmud, entered the tent, withdrew the ring of authority from his father’s hand and placed it on his own. What afterward became of the eunuch Yaruqtash, chronicles do not relate.
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