One year later while sojourning at Antioch he swallowed certain tablets, that being his custom when winter approached. He obtained these from a Saracen medicaster called Barac. On the advice of wives and daughters many Christian lords Outremer disdained the practice of Latin physics, submitting instead to the care of Syrians, Jews, Samaritans, or what pagan horse leech may be known only to Allah. Ushama ibn Munquidh speaks of one called Thabat who came to treat the abscessed leg of a Frankish knight. This Turk made a plaster and the leg began to heal. But here came a Latin who said Thabat did not know how to cure the cancer. Would you live with one leg or die with two? he inquired of the wounded knight. Certainly I prefer to live, the knight replied. So the Latin ordered his leg hacked off with a battleaxe, marrow spurted, and the knight went to sleep in God. Also there was a consumptive woman for whom Thabat prescribed refreshing food. But the Latin said a devil wanted her so he chopped off the woman’s hair. Then she went back to eating Frankish food with mustard and got sick. A devil has slipped into her brain, said the Latin. With a razor he drew a cross on her skull to expose the bone, which he rubbed with salt, whereupon she followed the knight to glory. This according to Ushama. It is possible that certain unbelievers have better knowledge of such matters than the shrewdest physicians in Europe, albeit I do not claim to know, nor avouch the truth of infidel writing.
Be that as it may, King Baldwin had no more swallowed these tablets than fever and flux attacked. Nothing could be found to alleviate his distress. When he perceived that he was failing he went to Tripoli where he rested several months. At length, knowing he must die, he had himself carried to Beyrouth and directed that lords of the realm and prelates of the Church be assembled. In their presence he acknowledged his faith, humbly confessed his sins. Having done so, he was mercifully released from this ephemeral flesh. Some think the medicine he got from Barac was poison. Certain it is that several tablets were put in bread and fed to a dog, which very soon died. Whatever the truth, his spirit ascended on the tenth of February, less than two years after his mother Melisende, during the twentieth year of his reign. Because he expired without issue he was succeeded by his brother Amalric.
The funeral cortege of King Baldwin traveled for a week between Beyrouth and Jerusalem, attended by frantic displays of grief. Not only Christians but Muslims felt saddened. In the Holy City he was entombed among his royal predecessors. When it was suggested to Nur al-Din that during this mournful time he might lay waste to Christian land he declined, saying the Franks had lost such a prince as could not be found elsewhere in the world.
Concerning Amalric, this much has been preserved. His greed was notorious, he intervened at courts of justice for his own profit and pocketed ecclesiastic benefices. Archbishop William of Tyre, who knew him, declares that he was egregiously fat so his breasts dripped down to his belly like those of an old woman. His blond hair receded. Storms of discordant laughter would course through him, which caused his fat body to shake and lessened his dignity. He wallowed in female flesh, seducing married women without guilt. Yet he displayed commendable taste, abjuring theatrical performances and gaming while delighting at the sweep of herons and falcons. Neither curses nor reproaches troubled him, even when uttered by contemptible men. He would listen eagerly while Archbishop William read to him about foreign customs or strange beliefs. Above all, he imagined himself king of Egypt.
One day in the citadel at Tyre, being feverish, he summoned the archbishop and for a time they conversed on various subjects. Then he asked whether, beyond the teaching of our Lord, there could be proof of resurrection.
At this Archbishop William felt perturbed, wondering that an orthodox prince should debate fixed doctrine or question it in the depth of his heart. He replied with much agitation that the teaching of our Lord should be sufficient. Plainly, he said, the Gospel teaches future resurrection. Beyond doubt He promised to come and judge the quick and the dead. To the elect will He give a kingdom prepared from the rudiment of the world. To the wicked will He consign everlasting fire. Without doubt the testimony of holy apostles and of ancient patriarchs suffices.
This I firmly believe, said King Amalric. Yet I search for a reason whereby these things might be demonstrated to skeptics.
Imagine yourself a man so afflicted, said William. Then let us peer into the matter.
Having thought about this, King Amalric consented.
Do you acknowledge that our Lord is just? William asked.
Nothing could be more true, said the king.
Do you acknowledge that good shall be met with good, evil with evil?
That is true, said the king.
In this life it does not often happen, said the archbishop. Many good people suffer inordinate distress while the wicked enjoy unlimited happiness.
Again the king said this was so.
Then, said the archbishop, retribution must occur in another life since it is impossible for God to act unscrupulously. If those who merit good shall be rewarded, while those who merit punishment shall be punished, there must be resurrection of the flesh.
This seems good to me beyond expectation, said King Amalric. You have withdrawn all uncertainty from my heart.
Now their discourse turned upon other subjects and King Amalric felt much refreshed, even as Emperor Charlemagne refreshed himself through conversation with the learned Alcuin.
During King Amalric’s sovereignty occurred an iniquitous act that would bring signal harm to the empire and to the Holy Church. In the diocese of Tortosa lived a community of sixty thousand pagans who chose their leader not as Franks do, by hereditary right, but according to his qualities. This leader was called simply the Old Man. And no matter what he commanded them to do, that would they do with utmost fidelity. If some prince, Muslim or Christian, incurred the wrath of this Old Man he would present a dagger to one of his subjects, perhaps to more than one. And they who had been so designated would hasten to murder the offending prince, whence they were called Assassins. These people for at least five centuries adhered to Saracen law with such rigidity that by comparison others seemed heretic. But during Amalric’s time they chose a leader of acute intellect who obtained and valued the books of our holy apostles. While reading these books he attempted as best he could to understand the wondrous precepts of our Lord. And as he pondered the noble doctrine espoused by Christians he could not but reject the false dogma of that despicable seducer Mahomet which he had swallowed along with his mother’s milk. So he came to abominate filthy works. He taught his people what he had learned of the true faith. He dissuaded them from loathsome habits, restored the eating of pork and drinking of wine, destroyed places where they were accustomed to kiss the toes of a noxious prophet, and in other ways sought to rescue his people from the bottomless pit where they had been cast by Mahomet. Next, desirous of advancing toward the infinite mysteries of Christian law, he despatched an emissary by name Boaldelle to King Amalric.
The king greeted Boaldelle courteously and found him to be not only wise but eloquent and sincere, anxious to form some bond. If this might be accomplished, said Boaldelle in the name of his master, Assassins would embrace Jesus Christ as their savior, would receive baptism and from that moment onward behave with brotherly kindness.
To this speech King Amalric listened with delight. And when Boaldelle made ready to go back to his people King Amalric provided an escort. They had gone beyond Tripoli, traveling incautiously since Boaldelle relied on the good faith of Christians, when certain knights of the Temple rushed at him with drawn swords and murdered him. The king was roused to anger since this brought infamy upon himself, imperiling the dignity of his throne, and by an atrocious act would that increase so pleasing to God be lost. Mad with rage he summoned his barons. Such wickedness merited retribution, all agreed. Then two high lords, Seiher de Mamedunc and Godescalous de Turout, went to confront the master of the Temple, Eudes de Saint-Amand. A one-eyed Templar, Walter du Maisnilio, was held responsible. Now the master, Eudes, sent word to
King Amalric that he had enjoined penance upon this guilty brother and would remand him to the pope. However this did not satisfy King Amalric who traveled to Sidon and found the culprit, had him dragged forcibly out of the house, dressed with chains and banished to prison at Tyre. Thus, Amalric contrived to exonerate himself in the eyes of the Old Man whose emissary was slain without cause. Yet the death of Boaldelle was but a harbinger of evil to come, as though in the eyes of God this matter stood unresolved.
Between watchful enemies His kingdom on earth lay at risk. To the north, Turks, Saracens, whose masters governed from Aleppo to Damascus. In the south, Egyptians. King Amalric decided to look for some alliance with Egypt that would guarantee safe passage for vessels to and from Europe. Also, Egyptians might then have little stomach for a pact with cousins to the north. He charged Hugh from Caesarea to go and carefully observe this degenerate land. With Lord Hugh went a Templar, Geoffrey Fulcher, to interpret.
From very ancient days it has been known how Egypt lies between two inhospitable deserts condemned to sterility, for which reason the land could produce no harvest were it not fertilized by the abundant Nile. This river seeks to expand itself and seasonally washes through adjacent regions. Hence it contracts or enlarges, bringing with this deluge the blessing of agriculture. Upper Egypt the people call Seith because long ago there was a city named Sais of which Plato makes mention. Lower Egypt they call in their language Phium, albeit no one could say why. At one time this region was called Thebiad because of opium cultivated there, a remedy physicians call Theban. And from top to bottom, where some assert the world ends in darkness, all agree that Egypt overflows with marvels. Here live horrific serpents and lizards, most fearful being the dragon, which makes a commotion in the air while slinking from its cave. Whatever the dragon grasps must die. Indeed, the elephant is not safe despite his monstrous bulk. They say the dragon inhabits Ethiopia or mayhap India where it lurks near footpaths used by elephants and ties them in knots to suffocate them. Yet we should remember that God creates all and what He is pleased to create should please us and we should render praise to Him. His manifold works exceed reckoning.
Scythia is the home of griffons, which are savage birds, mad beyond insanity. In Hyrcania live panthers marked by delicate spots. Also the beast leucocrotta, which surpasses others in speed, with the haunch of a stag, head of a badger, and cloven hooves. There is the mantichora, which exhibits the visage of a man with sparkling eyes, the body of a lion, and a spiked tail enabling it to sting like the scorpion. The voice of a mantichora is reputed to be musical and sibilant, causing listeners to think of a flute. There are skinks and lacertae, which do not experience passion unless hurrying in search of their mates. The amphisbaena, which vaunts two heads. The yale, whose two horns sway back and forth during battle. But who could account for the infinitude of animals, birds, and fishes? All being the handiwork of God must be marvelous. Yet infinitely more wonderful is He who imagined and composed them.
Latin parchment tells how Lord Hugh and Geoffrey the Templar were guided through Cairo by imperial attendants who displayed swords and made a huge noise, how they were escorted through the palace, each gallery more astonishing than the one previous, each guarded by Nubians with gleaming black skin. The Franks were amazed and did not know what to think. They saw water spouting from gold pipes, marble pillars, fish basins inlaid with carving. They walked across patterned floors, heard the warble of songbirds captured from all four corners of Africa. They saw the peacock spreading jeweled wings and creatures like those dreamt by men asleep. Quadrupeds glaring, howling, gibbering. Afreet. Gyascutus. Barghest. Wivern. Harpy. The fearsome basilisk whose body is striped white, who crawls on his lower half while his upper half stands erect, whose glance brings death and subordinate vipers tremble. Such wonders did Lord Hugh and Geoffrey the Templar behold, such prodigies cavorting through gardens, such curiosities chained or caged as would tempt a painter to represent or a poet to rhyme. Solinus who traveled through Egypt in very ancient days remarked similar things.
The sultan of Cairo led these Franks into a room boasting a silk curtain thickly encrusted with pearls, rubies, and emeralds. The sultan approached humbly, removed a jeweled sword dangling from a gold chain around his neck and placed it on the carpet. Twice he prostrated himself, exhibiting reverence akin to terror. Whereupon with astonishing rapidity the silk curtain flew aside. On a throne fashioned from gold, surrounded by eunuchs and counselors, sat the caliph. The sultan, after kissing one of his slippers, told the purpose of these Franks.
In those days Caliph al-Adid was no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, in the flower of youth, his skin very dark, his features girlish. Thrice yearly he showed himself in public for the adoration of citizens. They called him lord and thought the Nile must rise at his command. The number of his wives exceeded calculation. Each day he took a different woman, idling away his life in dissolute games, leaving the administration of Egypt to his vizier. What man is master of himself when shackled by chains of lust?
It is said that he listened cheerfully while the sultan explained provisions of the treaty and the urgent need addressed therein. To all of which the youth responded that he would accept and fulfill the stipulations, with a most liberal interpretation, out of regard for King Amalric.
The Franks sought reassurance. They asked Caliph al-Adid to confirm the pact with his own hand as was usual in the West, which horrified the counselors grouped about him. To them such a request was beyond understanding. Finally, urged by the sultan, after much deliberation, the caliph extended one hand draped with a veil.
Lord Hugh then addressed the caliph. Sire, in matters of trust there can be no deviation, since when princes bind themselves to one another they conceal nothing. Therefore, unless your hand is freely offered, we must think there is some lack of honesty on your part.
At last, much averse, yet displaying a faint smile that humiliated members of the court, Caliph al-Adid gave his bare hand to the Frankish knight. Then he repeated, syllable by syllable, each word spoken by Hugh, thereby promising that he would honor the stipulations without fraud or evil intent. Later he sent generous gifts to the ambassadors, which greatly recommended him, causing Lord Hugh and Geoffrey the Templar to depart for Jerusalem more than a little satisfied.
At that time no city was richer than Cairo. And being a nest of pagan intrigue, why should it not be annexed to consolidate Christ’s protectorate on earth? King Amalric marched out of Ascalon in October of the year 1168, a splinter from the True Cross hanging about his neck. Templars opposed this invasion, mindful that Lord Hugh and the caliph had reached accord. Also, they served as bankers to Italian merchants who dealt profitably with Egypt. However, knights of the Hospital joined Amalric and pledged everything they owned to equip the troops. Some think he offered the province of Bilbeis as their fief. Whatever the fact, a Muslim emissary found King Amalric marching across the desert and reproached him for perfidious conduct. But the king said he was justified and would not turn back, not unless Egypt paid heavy tribute.
The city of Bilbeis resisted with desperate fury. When at last it had been taken every inhabitant met the sword. This was to horrify and intimidate the people of Cairo and other cities. Yet according to the narrative of Ibn al-Athir, had King Amalric behaved magnanimously he would have taken Cairo with ease because the nobles had decided to surrender. The massacre at Bilbeis changed their minds. In the old part of the city they set twenty thousand jugs of naphtha afire, destroying markets, houses, stalls, mosques, whatever might be useful to invaders. And here came that same emissary, Shams al-Khilafa, to say they would burn up Cairo with all its wealth before they would deliver it to Frankish hands. And the caliph wrote hastily to Nur al-Din, enclosing a lock of female hair, explaining that he took this hair from one of his wives, all of whom beseeched Nur al-Din to rescue them from the Franks. Nur al-Din agreed to help. So the king, observing how these people in Cairo would do anything rather than submit, thinking he might be atta
cked from another direction by Turks, considered it prudent to withdraw. He demanded one million dinars in order to seem victorious, but did not wait for payment because of infidels gathering on the horizon. And most bitterly he reproached the Hospitalers for bad counsel.
The sea afforded clear passage to vessels from Europe while Egypt brought to the realm strange commodities. Further, moneys spent by unbelievers enriched the treasury and benefited private commerce. Now all was changed. Into what turbulence had immoderate lust for wealth plunged the Holy Land. William of Tyre laments that wherever one looked there was anxiety, fear, misfortune wrought by the cupidity of one man, Amalric, whose avarice clouded the serenity vouchsafed to Christian Jerusalem.
Perhaps the greed of Amalric did not exceed that of Nur al-Din. He, too, coveted the fabulous treasure that was Egypt. When the Franks threatened Cairo he despatched his most trusted general, Shirkuh the Lion, to defend the city, but also to obtain some purchase there. Shirkuh, they say, was blind in one eye, short and sturdy, given to howling rages, lowly born as was manifest in his features.
With the army went Shirkuh’s nephew, Saladin, whose name means Protector of the Faith. He was born in Mesopotamia of Kurdish descent and called Yusef, meaning Joseph, for these people bestow a Hebrew name when a boy is circumcised. As a youth he lived in a monastery where he studied and could recite the genealogies of Arab tribes. He knew the lineage of celebrated horses. Later in life he pondered curiosities and marvels so that whoever talked with him would learn things impossible to learn elsewhere. What he liked most to discuss was holy war.
He first became conspicuous by exacting tribute from Damascus whores, selling them licenses. Some palmist or haruspex, a Syrian whose name is lost, prophesied that he would one day be lord of both Damascus and Cairo. He was no more than twenty when he accompanied Shirkuh the Lion to Egypt. He went reluctantly, objecting, complaining that his heart had been pierced by a dagger. Were I granted the whole kingdom of Egypt, said he, I would not go. All the same, when Nur al-Din ordered him to take the road with his uncle, he obeyed.
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