None could forget how Isaac miraculously escaped death when the bowstring snapped, so this was pictured above the portals of numerous churches. Our Lord stands beside Isaac while Blessed Mary places a crown on his head, meanwhile an angel cuts the bowstring. On such occasions we note how providence invests good men with authority.
Chronicles relate that Isaac began to think about his brother Alexius who had fled to Syria and wondered if he might be alive. He learned that Alexius was held captive by Muslims who would not let him go except for a huge price. Out of love for his brother Isaac sent all the gold they demanded, and when Alexius returned to Constantinople the brothers joyously embraced. However, some at court persuaded Alexius that he was more fit to rule, flattered his ambition and pride until he agreed with all they said. Moreover, his wife told him she ought to be empress and would not share his bed unless he obtained the crown. Isaac scoffed at reports of conspiracy, so much did he love and trust his brother. According to Nicetas Choniates, Isaac consulted a diviner named Basilakios who poked out the eyes of a portrait and tried to knock off the painted cap. Still, Isaac would not believe.
From exemplary tales we learn how adversity like a dog licks the hand of a trusting master. Thus, when Isaac decided to go hunting he invited his brother. Alexius excused himself, pretending to be ill. And in the forest Isaac was attacked. Understanding at last, he got across the river Maritza and fled along the road but conspirators overtook him. They carried him off to a monastery, grabbed his hair and gouged out his eyes. The wicked brother now thrust Isaac Angelus into prison and told people that henceforth he, himself, would rule. Such are the Greeks. Do they not kick at the sweet yoke of Christ? Have more knavish Christians walked the earth since time began? What is the root of such evil? Yet we acknowledge the limitation of perplexity and complaint. Thou who art Creator of all creation, we would not question Thee nor doubt Thy intent.
We know that just as a man engulfed by raging water will be drawn to the bottom, so may he be sucked into the abyss of perversion. Thus, during the reign of Emperor Manuel a certain Reynauld de Chatillon arrived in the Holy Land. He was by all accounts a penniless rogue born to some Angevin family of slight estate. With no prospect in France he resolved to settle oversea, mayhap to enter the service of a puissant lord, by this or that to fill up his pocket. Simple by nature, brave enough, a feral dog, here came Reynauld de Chatillon. Turks called him in their barbaric language Brins Arnat.
What did this wretch do but quickly make himself a lord through marriage to the widowed princess of Antioch, Constance. They say she had been espoused at nine to a prince four times older and was little more than twenty when he departed to join the celestial host. Now, to the bewilderment of all, she took delight in rejecting suitors. Ralph de Merle. Walter de Saint-Omer. Yves de Nesle who was count of Soissons. A Byzantine noble whose veins leaked gold. None pleased Lady Constance. Why did she favor Reynauld de Chatillon? Chronicles do not explain save to call him handsome, the lady dazzled. This match pleased few in Antioch. All thought she demeaned herself. Emperor Manuel heard the news with little grace. In those days he was busy chasing Seljuk Turks.
The island of Cyprus thirty leagues offshore seemed to Reynauld worth pillaging. Therefore he approached the patriarch of Antioch for money to equip a fleet, but the patriarch looked at him with disgust. Reynauld cast him in prison. Still the patriarch would not unlock his treasury. Reynauld ordered him flogged and chained naked on the roof of the citadel, his bald head smeared with honey and no relief from a blistering sun but flies to suck his wounds. One day proved enough. The terrified patriarch agreed to pay for ships and troops. Thus furnished, Reynauld invaded Cyprus, not caring that it was subject to Byzantium. Fields burnt, villages looted, nuns ravished. Old men and women, being useless, forthwith got their throats cut. Greek monks and priests lost their private members and got their noses slit, after which Reynauld sent these mutilated clerics to Emperor Manuel. Truly does Abbot Guibert observe that one may in good conscience speak ill of a man whose wickedness transcends malediction.
Now being well supplied with captives, gold, jeweled icons stolen from churches, precious fabrics, animals, whatever he fancied, Reynauld de Chatillon embarked for the Holy Land. Among his captives was the governor, John Comnenus, nephew of Emperor Manuel.
Soon enough Manuel Comnenus marched toward Antioch. Reynauld hastily took himself to the emperor’s camp near Mamistra to ask forgiveness. They say the bishop of Lattakieh prevailed upon Manuel, allowing Reynauld to come before him as a suppliant in a wool tunic, feet bare, a rope around his neck, sword in hand. Holding the sword by its point, he offered the hilt. When it was accepted he flung himself down in the dust, awaiting his fate. He wept so abjectly that all who were present felt embarrassed. Emperor Manuel for a long time did not bid him get to this feet, but instead prolonged the degradation. At length he did raise up this knave, kissed his lips and forgave him. Many expressed disbelief at such gentle punishment.
Not long afterward the Saracens caught him stealing horses. Thus he entered Aleppo in grand style, bound to the hump of a camel. There he marked time in chains for sixteen years. Neither the king of Jerusalem nor Manuel Comnenus nor the citizens of Antioch seemed anxious to buy his freedom. During those years the lady Constance died.
No more was Reynauld out of prison than he contrived to wed Lady Étienne de Kerak, by which he acquired the vast and remote seigneury of Moab. He had long dreamt of capturing Muslim traffic on the Red Sea. Further, he wished to assault Mecca. So now with trees cut from the forests of Moab he transported five galleys, plank by plank, on the backs of camels, to the gulf of Akaba. Once they were assembled he went about doing what he liked best. Down the coast of Africa he went to sack Aidib, seized merchantmen from India, destroyed a pilgrim vessel bound for Jedda. Saladin’s brother, Malik, sent the admiral Husam al-Din Lulu in pursuit. Reynauld’s fleet was caught near al-Hawra. Certain of these Franks were beheaded in Cairo, others ceremoniously executed in Mecca. Reynauld himself escaped capture and traveled by land to the fortress of Kerak. It is reported that Saladin vowed to kill Brins Arnat with his own hands.
During the month of November a host of Turks surrounded Kerak. By chance they arrived when lords and ladies had gathered to celebrate a royal wedding. Humphrey, son of Lady Étienne, would marry Isabella, sister of the leper king. So there was dancing and feasting high in the keep when Saladin’s army appeared beneath the walls. Lady Étienne sent a message to let him know her son was marrying. And she reminded Saladin that when she herself was a child he had carried her in his arms. After such a long time who could avouch the truth of this? According to a Syrian Frank attached to the house of Ibelin, the Turk was for a while held captive at Kerak. However it may be, Saladin wished to know where the young couple would spend their wedding night and he forbade attacks against this turret. So the Lady Étienne sent out to him delicacies from the wedding feast, such as mutton, bread, wine, and roast beef. Meanwhile fighting continued along the ramparts, merriment within the castle.
By repute Humphrey was gentle and attractive, some said girlish, who got from his ancestors a talent for scholarship but little courage. He learnt Arabic with ease, interpreting if Turks and Franks needed to converse. Lord Conrad de Montferrat years after this marriage resolved to have Isabella for himself and Humphrey did not know what to do. They say that a champion of Lord Conrad, one Guy de Senlis, threw down a glove at Humphrey’s feet and the miserable husband did not dare pick it up. Much is made of Helen surreptitiously abducted in ancient days, yet some thought it more infamous that Lord Conrad took Isabella with her cowardly husband present.
Now as bombardment continued those who were defending Kerak lost hope. However, Saladin withdrew when the count of Tripoli approached. With this Frankish host was the dying leper king, mute, nearly blind, with neither hands nor feet, carried on a palanquin to celebrate the wedding of his sister. The curtains of his litter were drawn when they brought him through the gate, his flesh poi
soning the air. Those nearby held their breath.
From throughout the realm high barons arrived to await King Baldwin’s death. In our year of grace 1185 he went to sleep with God. They buried him between the Holy Sepulcher and Mount Calvary where kings of Jerusalem have been laid to rest since the days of Godfrey de Bouillon. Many wondered at the source of his leprosy. Some ascribed it to the incestuous marriage of his parents because his mother Agnes, a lascivious woman panting for men and gold, was third cousin to his father Amalric. Who shall decide? Are we not girdled by falsities of superstition?
Ibn Jubayr, a Spanish Muslim who traveled in those days from Andalusia to Damascus, observed with grave surprise how Arab caravans would pass unmolested through Frankish land, even as Christian merchants did business in Syria. Perhaps wiser than sovereigns, they went about buying and selling while armies surged to and fro. Unluckily, here was Reynauld de Chatillon. When he learned of a caravan passing not far away he rode out from Kerak and took it, an hour Christendom would lament because it carried the sister of Saladin. Woe to the Holy Land. Some assert that Reynauld de Chatillon by himself roused greater fury in the Saracen heart than one hundred years of war.
Now with the leper king in Paradise the crown of Jerusalem went to a foolish knight, Guy de Lusignan. Histories from those days account him skillful in the use of weapons, well versed at flattery, excelling at courtly gestures. Because of such attributes he caught the eye of Baldwin’s elder sister, Sibylla. She loved Guy de Lusignan and slept with him. How the leper king heard of this is not recorded, only that he knew. He had Guy de Lusignan tortured and would have stoned him to death but for certain Templars who counseled moderation. Then he granted life to Sibylla and to this knight she loved. And because no son or daughter would succeed him on the throne, he permitted them to marry. This ill suited noble and citizen alike. They despised Guy de Lusignan as much for the vacancy of his soul as the impoverishment of his mind. Therefore in the city of Nablus barons of high lineage gathered to consult, worried that a simpleton might be their governor. Next came word from Sibylla, commanding them to be present at her coronation. They refused. And since Nablus was but ten leagues distant, the gates of Jerusalem were shut. Patriarch Heraclius and the grand master of Templars did not like the sound of things. Then the obstinate lords instructed a sergeant who was born in Jerusalem to disguise himself as a monk and go there to spy on the ceremony.
Imperial regalia were kept safe in a coffer with three locks. The keys were held one each by the patriarch, by the master of Templars, and by the master of the Hospital, Roger. And when Roger was asked to produce his key, he would not. The patriarch and the Templar went to see him. But when he heard of their approach he concealed himself. Not until noon could he be found, clutching the key because he was afraid somebody might give it to the patriarch. They stood outside the Hospital wheedling and threatening until Roger flung his key out a window, but said he would not attend the coronation nor would any Hospitaler. So the master of the Temple and Heraclius proceeded to the treasury where they unlocked the coffer and got two crowns.
And when it came time for the ceremony Heraclius placed one crown on the altar. With the second he crowned Sibylla, Queen of Jerusalem. Lady, said he, because you are a woman it is not fit that you reign alone. Take this crown that you see beside you. Give it to such a man as you would have govern the kingdom.
Sibylla beckoned forth her lover, Guy de Lusignan. Sire, the queen addressed him, I would have you wear this. I do not know where better to bestow it.
Guy de Lusignan knelt and she placed the crown on his head. Then the patriarch anointed him. This occurred on a Friday in the merciful year 1186. Never had a king of Jerusalem been crowned on Friday, nor with gates to the Holy City shut.
Thus it happened that a piddling courtier with the mind of a goat was expected to contain Saladin.
King Guy ordered Reynauld de Chatillon to release the Muslim lord’s sister. Reynauld answered that by virtue of marriage to Lady Étienne he was master of Kerak and had made no pact with Saracens. By this insubordinate response, by refusing to acknowledge the sovereignty of Guy de Lusignan, it may be that he hastened the fall of the Holy City.
No one knew what Saladin might do next. King Guy despatched messengers to Count Raymond at Tiberias, since Raymond was highly experienced at warfare. While these messengers were en route it chanced that Saladin’s son, al-Afdal, requested leave for seven thousand mameluks to ride through the fief of Tiberias. Why they wished to enter Christian territory is much debated. Some think they were bent on pillage, others think they wished to vaunt their strength. Raymond gave permission, stipulating that they must not appear before dawn and must depart before sunset. And when these mameluks rode by Tiberias they found the gates closed, indicating that Count Raymond would respect the truce. However, news reached the castle of La Fève and ninety Templars with various other knights resolved to attack these enemies of Christ. But the Templars hesitated when they saw this multitude of Saracens watering their horses in a valley behind Nazareth. Jakeline de Maille, who was Marshal, advised retreat.
Gérard de Ridfort, who was Grand Master, challenged him. Do you so love your blond head that you wish to keep it?
Marshal Jakeline replied with disgust. I shall die a knight, but you will flee.
What the Templar prophesied came true. Gérard de Ridfort escaped.
Marshal Jakeline, seeing all around him dead or dying, faced the enemy by himself. The mameluks, admiring such valor, were filled with compassion. They shouted earnestly at him to give up his sword so they might spare his life. He would not. According to the narrative of Geoffrey de Vinsauf he was with difficulty slain, falling beneath a load of javelins, stones, and lances. Then his soul fled in triumph bearing the palm of martyrdom.
These Templars gained eternal bliss on a field that had been planted with corn and reaped, hence it was thick with stubble, and so many Saracens rushed to fight that the field was trampled to dust. Once the battle ended here they were sprinkling dust on the corpse of Marshal Jakeline, afterward sprinkling dust on their own heads to honor his courage. It is said that one chopped off the private member to keep, as though a poor scrap of flesh might generate a son of equal fortitude. And because Marshal Jakeline rode a white horse and dressed in white armor, Turks with knowledge of Saint Gregory boasted they had vanquished the greatest knight in Christendom.
Late that afternoon al-Afdal again rode past Tiberias, his knights exhibiting on lances the heads of Templars they had killed. They crossed the river Jordan before sunset, as agreed. But who would counsel peace after God’s enemies rode through Christian land flaunting the severed heads of Christian soldiers? Still, has not a sword two edges? Did not these Templars vex the Turk? How does our Creator adjudicate?
Now it became apparent that a decisive battle must take place, as the Bible foretells conflict on the plains of Armageddon. And the infidel lord, as if he were Antichrist spreading impenetrable darkness, called upon the armies of Damascus, Aleppo, Egypt, and Syria. Various in name or sect or birthplace, they assembled swiftly to annihilate the living army of God. Bedouin. Arab. Parthian. Cordian. Babylonian. Mede. According to the chronicle of Abu Shama, camel skin tents surrounded Lake Tiberias like the ocean. Muslim banners fluttered in the sunlight. Here or there stood pavilions of bright fabric embellished with verses from the Koran.
Soldiers of Christ assembled near Saphori close by Nazareth. Lords of the great fiefs arrived, leaving only a few knights and sergeants to defend each castle. Mercenaries hastily enrolled. Pilgrims. Mariners. Hospitalers and Templars gathered. Patriarch Heraclius, when invited to join the host, replied that he did not feel well enough to go but would send the True Cross. Some muttered aloud what others thought, that Heraclius preferred battle in the fragrant arms of Madame la Patriarchesse.
Geoffrey de Vinsauf relates how the king’s chamberlain had a vision. He dreamt of an eagle flying past the army, in its talons seven missiles and a ballista, and the propheti
c bird cried with a loud voice.
Woe unto thee, Jerusalem!
What is this if not fulfillment of Scripture? It is written how the Lord hath bent His bow and in it prepared the vessels of death. What are these missiles but seven sins by which the Franks should perish?
Saladin besieged Tiberias and stormed the lower town, which could not hold. Then the wife of Count Raymond, Eschiva, fled to the citadel. It is what Saladin expected and what he wished, believing in his heart that Count Raymond would try impetuously to save his wife. Indeed, when news reached the army that Countess Eschiva with her attendants had locked themselves in the citadel a huge cry went up. Templars, Hospitalers, sergeants, pilgrims, all demanded that they march upon Tiberias. Accordingly they proceeded to Saphori and bivouacked for the night. Although they found good water it is said the pack animals refused to drink and behaved like grieving men. Now a dispute arose between Count Raymond and King Guy.
Sire, I would give counsel, said Raymond, but you will not heed me.
Speak on, the king replied.
Let the citadel be taken. Tiberias is mine. The lady of Tiberias is my countess. Yet I would rather see Tiberias razed to the ground, my wife enslaved, my soldiers killed, than to know the Holy Land was lost forever. If we march against Tiberias we must be defeated. Here is why. Between us and Tiberias there is but one spring of water, at Cresson, which is by no means enough. So what will become of men and horses? They will go mad with thirst. And next day the Saracens will take us. For in the past I have seen many a Saracen army, but none so numerous or powerful as that which Saladin commands this day.
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