And now Philip Augustus, weary, desperate for the sight of France, resolved to quit this insalubrious land. Those who fought beneath his standard felt disconcerted and bewildered. Acre is a handsome prize, said they among themselves, yet does not the reconquest of Jerusalem matter more? Such was their resentment that many spoke of disavowing him as their lord. But he was ill and wished to go home. On the last day of July he departed, sailing to Brindisi, thence to France. In our year of grace 1223 he was at Mantes holding parliament during the feast of Saint Mary Magdalene when death saw fit to reach for him. He confessed, abjured past malfeasance, made his devises. To the Holy Land he bequeathed a third part of his treasure, to the indigent a third, to the Crown of France a final third in order that it might be governed and defended, whereupon he gave back his soul to God. Although he was blind in one eye, none that knew Philip considered him imperceptive. They thought him a skeptical monarch, shrewd enough. High barons and knights bore his remains to Saint Denys. At each resting place a cross was erected, the likeness of Philip carved in stone. Archbishop William Joinville himself laid King Philip away and chanted mass. The tomb is all gold and silver, very fine. On the four sides in relief stand forty-eight bishops with mitres on their heads, croziers in their hands.
After he had gone King Richard looked toward the restoration of Acre. It seemed advisable to fortify the walls and otherwise maintain the city as a lighthouse of Christianity, a beacon that would blind the Saracen eye, pierce and thwart the Saracen heart. He walked among the masons while they worked, exhorting them, since it was always his intent to recover God’s inheritance. However, a plethora of women and Syrian wine proved inimical to his purpose, debauching soldiers, making them slothful, complacent, oblivious. Ambroise relates in verse how these women cast their spell, how lechery, gluttony, every sort of vice conspired to vitiate and spoil the aims of conquest. This was because the diabolic agent of discord through stratagem and tricks, allurement, persuasion, seeks always to multiply the army of the damned.
When three weeks were up, this being the term fixed by Richard for payment and restitution of the Holy Cross, it appeared that Saladin was a transgressor who did not stand to his word and covenant. Often enough he would despatch envoys with artful words and gifts, arguing that he did not have the Cross but would do everything to find it. By such duplicity he hoped to extract more lenient terms. Richard therefore took counsel with the lords of the Christian host and they resolved to punish Saladin for wanton arrogance. Turks garrisoned at Acre, numbering almost three thousand, were roped and led to a field beneath Tel Keisen where they would be visible to Saladin’s army. Then at Richard’s command his soldiers leapt on this mass of flesh, striking unbelievers with sword and lance, slicing away heads, which mightily upset the Turks. Geoffrey de Vinsauf reports that these hostages were not put to the sword but hanged, as they deserved in the sight of God and man, excepting some few nobles who might be ransomed or exchanged for Christian captives. However these dark spirits fled, King Richard aspired to vindicate his faith by decimating the satanic horde, negating the false doctrine of Mahomet. Many of those slain were disemboweled because gall of a Turk makes good ointment. Thus were they chastised on Friday after the Assumption of Blessed Mary.
Some argue that Saladin was not at fault, considering that he needed more than three weeks to levy so much gold. As for the Holy Cross, they say it was carried to Damascus where furious pagans hacked it to splinters.
How many Christian soldiers ascended to Paradise during the siege of Acre? Those obtaining martyrdom included six archbishops, twelve bishops, forty counts, five hundred lesser nobles, innumerable priests, clerics, and humble palmers. Through combat or pestilence one hundred thousand gave up the ghost. Which is to say, not more than one of every two in the host survived. Acre basked in the hands of our loving and gracious Lord for eighty-three years. Then it suffered beneath the infidel yoke. But at last His will could not be denied.
At this siege my grandfather Geoffrey fell asleep in God. Neither day nor circumstance could I cite, yet I have honored him to the best of my authority with a tablet set in the church of Saint Laurent at Joinville castle. May he rest eternally in Your arms, Lord God.
Pilgrims now yielded to luxury and sloth because the cellars of Acre boasted choice wine and women stood at the corner. Men did not want to leave. They felt reluctant to forsake such delights and cross the river.
August had well advanced when the reluctant host moved south. Women were prohibited save good old dames such as toil and wash for armies, deft as apes at picking fleas. King Richard himself took the van, his standard borne on a wheeled cart decorated with rose-red spots. The post stood erect like the mast of a ship, solid timber-work neatly joined, sheathed in iron so it could not be splintered or burnt. About it like a wall rode Normans famous for courage since if the banner were seized, or the cart toppled, men might believe their lord overwhelmed. Few soldiers have strength to confront the enemy when they do not see who leads them, but even the timid feel empowered if his banner flies. Those who have been wounded are brought near it for comfort, making it a refuge, a beacon of certainty, a post of command. Hence the king’s emblem trundled down the road to Joppa, drawn by mules, able to pursue unbelievers or yield, according to necessity.
These pilgrims marching along the coast might look with enjoyment at the sea on their right, but on the left Saladin kept company. From mountainous heights the Turk watched over them. And at a narrow passage beneath a troubled sky here came Mahomet’s disciples scuttling down like vermin upon carts and sumpter beasts, attacking, plundering, quickly vanishing. Some Turk cut off the right hand of Everard who belonged to the bishop of Salisbury. Everard with his left hand snatched up the sword to defend himself. Now all was confusion. John Fitz-Luke galloped forward to notify King Richard. And the king returned full speed to help those under attack, slashing at Turks on either side, routing these infidels who fled as did the Philistines from Maccabeus, albeit quite a few remained since they were deprived of their heads. Yet here were many devout palmers sprouting twenty Turkish arrows.
Each night when they encamped it was the custom to depute some pilgrim who cried aloud in a strong voice. Help! Help! Help for the Holy Sepulcher! Everyone took up his cry, stretching their hands heavenward, weeping, calling for mercy. This lament they repeated a second time, a third time, after which all seemed much refreshed. Brown spiders that are called Tarantulas crept out of the ground at night, feeding on them. Pilgrims bloated like toads and complained until a rich man offered theriac to counter the venom. At length, seeing how these pests disliked loud noise, the army would make a discord at nightfall, clashing shields, helmets, buckets, beating on casques, basins, kettles, flagons, caldrons, or any implement to raise a tumult, and by the clamor sent these creatures hustling back into the earth.
By day they marched slowly. Numbers perished in the heat. King Richard caused those who were sick or disheartened to be transported on barges and smacks and galleys that accompanied the host. Flies no bigger than sparks would attack, fiercely biting hands, neck, cheek, or any part exposed, making the soldiers resemble lepers. They arranged veils for themselves, so it is said they looked comical while trudging across the sand. Very long ago the Romans brought stone from nearby hills to make a road between Acre and Joppa in order that chariots might roll easily up or down the coast but time had almost buried this antique road so it was no more than a trace through thorny brush.
When they got to Caesarea, halfway to Joppa, they expected to bivouac in comfort but found that Turks had destroyed whatever might be useful and had broken some of the towers and did not retreat until the army approached. Our Lord with His disciples often visited this city and here performed miracles. Close by is a stream where two Flemings went to bathe and were swallowed by crocodiles, hence it is known as the River of Crocodiles.
From Caesarea they proceeded with caution because of Turks who rode up to whistle and scream insults and launch arrows. These unbeli
evers carried only a light spear, a bow, or a mace with sharp teeth and by the quickness of their motion would come very near the ranks. Also there were black Muslims from Nubia who carried little round shields and scimitars and could whirl and flee with the agility of ghosts.
Two days out from Caesarea adherents of the devil swept down like a storm but left stretched on the field an emir of stupendous girth who was called Ayas Estoï because that was the name of his famous lance, heavier than two Frankish lances. This emir was reputed to be of such strength that no one could topple him. Now the Turks seeing their champion fall, his brawny arm at rest, his proud head rolling across the sand, yelped with grief and cropped the tails of their horses.
God’s army came next to the forest of Arsuf, which they thought infested with blackfaced misbelievers who would burn down the trees to roast them. In close order they marched through, prepared for battle, and marched by the mountain to open country, each expecting to lose his head because of Saracens rising on every flank. That day the Templars rode in front. Next came Angevins, Bretons, Normans, English, Hospitalers last. It is said the high lords rode so close packed that an apple could not be thrown without hitting man or beast. Those of a lineage rode together and the Christian host appeared so bound that no heathen force could rend it. Here was the count of Leicester who would not in any wise have been elsewhere. Alongside rode Huon de Gournai with others of equal renown, William Borriz who was raised in that land, and James d’Avesnes. They advanced almost at leisure, King Richard astride Fauvel, which he got on Cyprus, other valiants going before the host, in back, right or left, to watch for what the spirit of darkness might do.
Now all at once two thousand pagans came sweeping through the sunlit dusk launching arrows, others assigned no task but to pound drums or skip and screech. With these rode Duquedin, joined through blood to Saladin, whose astonishing standard flaunted a pair of breeches. Duquedin of all Turks most fiercely hated Christians. He rode up leading his squadrons trailing yellow banners, pennoncels of divers shape and color, with great speed and clattering hooves. And savage blackamoors, Saracens of the heath, hideous to face, blacker than soot, each with his bow and round buckler, nimble, swift, eager to strike those who believed in Jesus Christ. How thunderous were these pagan drums? One could not have heard God’s own thunder, sang Ambroise the jongleur. To fend off this devil’s pack the Hospitalers marched backward and shouted with clear voices to Saint George for help. Few in the host did not wish this journey ended, knowing how they stood on slippery points. Bearded Turks that dismounted to shoot would get their heads sliced off, so palmers and filthy Muslims bundled together on the hard ground thick as stooks at harvest. Banners falling down and the windrow of heathen dead stretched half a league. So many sharp swords could be gathered, so many darts, arrows, maces, bolts enough to load a score of wagons. And the misbelievers fled yelping, climbed trees to escape, screeched worse than goblins when Franks levied them out to chop off their heads. Many cast themselves shrieking from cliffs. Everywhere these misbegotten dogs that would not accept Jesus Christ fell wounded, groaned, lamented their fate, weltered in gore, expelled one last breath, which mightily pleased the Lord.
Yet among these bloody heaps was found the body of James d’Avesnes about whom they said he was superior to Nestor in counsel, to Achilles in valor, to Regulus in faith. Round about him fifteen slain Turks, though not until his face was bathed could he be recognized. And there narrowly grouped three from his household asleep in our Lord. On that day a mettlesome knight looked toward Paradise and chose a place beside Saint James the Apostle whom he held to be his patron. Never was heard more lament, such mourning, not on the death of any man since Adam bit the apple, for James d’Avesnes did serve his God right well.
And the sultan told of his choice troops scattered was wrathful. He summoned his emirs to upbraid them. Ho! said he, addressing them with contempt. How splendid, how marvelous the feats of this army! Have my comrades profited from defiant boasting? Behold the Christian host wandering about Syria as it pleases. You found the battle you lusted for, but where is the victory you trumpeted? How low have we sunk beneath our noble ancestors, who waged such war against Christians, whose deeds will not be forgotten. Beside them we are not worth an egg.
At this reproach his emirs stood silent.
Now the host came down to Joppa and here was a port engorged with scabby women from Europe as though to divert them from the journey, to roil them, foment lust, multiply misdeeds. Whores established pavilions, beckoned stray birds to the nest, exchanged smooth bodies for gold, hoisted their ankles above their ears and caught with little screams the horns of butting rams. Ah! Ah, mercy! cries the jongleur. Should our Christian faith be reclaimed by such naked weaponry?
In November at Joppa it happened that King Richard wished to take the air with his falcons and went hawking. He meant also to note the proximity of Turks, should there be any, and seize them if he could. Anon he dismounted to rest awhile, as did those in his small company, and he went to sleep. Some Turks having learned of it came down at full speed, but did not know which he was. Then, to save Richard, William de Préaux called out in Saracenic that he himself was Melech, which is to say Rex. Turks laid hands on this bold knight and led him off captive, exulting that they had caught the king. During this engagement Reynier de Marun ascended to glory, as did his nephew Walter, and Alan and Luke de Stabulo. King Richard rebuked himself for what occurred. Yet the hand of providence had interceded on his behalf, preserving him for greater things.
Now as he saw that his army lived less in fear of pagans and with God’s help could defeat them, Richard sent messengers to Saladin demanding the return of Syria and all that belonged to it, such as it was when last governed by the leper king. Also, he demanded tribute from Egypt together with dues and privileges that accrued to the kingdom of Jerusalem.
When this message had been read aloud Saladin was vexed. The bidding of your king, said he to the messengers, I find unreasonable. We cannot honorably consent. But I will agree, through my brother Malik al-Adil, to relinquish the land of Jerusalem from Jordan to the sea on condition that the city of Ascalon shall not be rebuilt, neither by Saracen nor Christian.
King Richard was bled only a little time previous when Malik al-Adil came to discuss this matter and did not feel strong enough. The business was postponed a day. At the king’s order Stephen de Torneham entertained Malik and supplied delicacies for his table. Next day Malik sent to King Richard a luxurious tent and seven camels. And when he entered the king’s presence, according to Ibn al-Athir, Richard announced his wish to hear the Muslim way of singing. Malik therefore caused a singer to perform, who accompanied herself on the guitar, all to the king’s delight. When this pleasantry was finished Malik reiterated the offer. King Richard gave it much thought. Considering the uncertainties and disturbances attendant upon war, the inherent benefits of peace, as well as the departure of Philip Augustus, it seemed expedient to accept. Yet many high lords began to argue and complain against him for defaulting, so the king would talk no further with Malik. Almost at once Saladin’s warriors rose up on every side and Richard went against them, taking pagan heads, twelve or twenty or thirty each day, depending on the number that fell in his path, to show how zealously he would persecute these monstrous enemies.
Soon enough, as expected, the rains of November came slanting down. Five leagues nearer Jerusalem the army halted. On the eve of Saint Thomas the Apostle it happened that Richard with a small retinue moved toward Blanchegarde, for what purpose is not known, perhaps to reconnoiter. Midway he paused, overcome with foreboding, and returned to camp. That same hour he learned that Saladin had despatched three hundred troops to Blanchegarde. What is this but divine intervention?
Now the earl of Leicester with a few knights essayed to punish an arrogant and boastful company of Turks passing by. The infidels fled, pursued by three knights on swift chargers. But in doing so the knights found themselves encircled. Then the earl of Leic
ester spurred forward to rescue them, followed by Henry de Mailoe and Saul de Bruil and others. Yet here came more Turks as though summoned by the Devil, flourishing reed lances tipped with steel. Garin Fitz-Gerald, toppled from his mount, was beaten almost to death with iron maces. Drogo de Fontenille Putrell was struck down, likewise Robert Nigel. The earl of Leicester was unhorsed, savagely beaten and came near drowning in the river. They say he was a little man, although not small in courage, for never did a man so slight perform such feats of bravery. Those at camp heard noise and charged toward the battle with King Richard in front, his gold crown flashing. Chronicles relate that some wished to dissuade him, fearing he would be killed, but he answered that he had sent the earl of Leicester forward and if these knights died alone he would not be called king again.
So the Turks, finding how unwise it could be to engage Richard Lionheart on the plain, retreated toward Jerusalem. The living host continued on its way. As they drew near the mountains it began to hail and rain fiercely. Horses drowned, tent pegs tore loose from the earth. Pork and biscuit spoiled, clothing rotted, armor rusted. Disconsolate pilgrims held up their hands. Yet in their hearts they felt joyous at the prospect of beholding Jerusalem and toward this end they comforted each other. Those on litters began to exalt God, praying only for a glimpse of the Sepulcher before they died. Turks lay in ambush for these caravans of the mortally sick, fell upon them like the wind, slaying those too weak to rise and all who carried them. Yet it is certain that our Lord, looking down, exchanged the brief agony of these pilgrims for eternal bliss.
Now began the Leap Year 1192, having D for its canonical letter.
On the third day after the circumcision of our Lord a company of Saracens attacked, slaying those Christians foremost in advance. Richard pursued God’s enemies and they, recognizing his banner, took flight. Eighty rode toward Mirabel but he caught up with them and by himself despatched two before his knights arrived.
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