Nay, said Cardinal Pelagius, we are better going now.
Nay verily, answered King John, it would be far worse. Nevertheless, I will not halt the plan.
Then let us move ourselves, said Pelagius. We will go to Babylon, assault it and take it.
How many Templars, Hospitalers, and valiant knights gave up the ghost at Damietta? Among others the noble Count Milo of Barsur-Seine with both of his sons, delivered from human grief in the shadow of these walls. This I know because my father Simon battled at their side for glory, as once he fought to crush faithless Albigenses at Béziers and Carcassonne.
Here also departed from life Barzella Merxadrus, ordinary soldier, citizen of Bologna. On the twenty-third day of December in the year 1219, feeling mortally ill, he dictated terms for burial and disbursement of his goods. Five bezants he left for the repose of his soul. Weapons, armor, and hauberk he bequeathed to the Hospital of Germans where he wished to be interred. One bezant to James of Ungine, notary. One bezant to the army common chest. To his companions in the tent, three bezants. To his wife Guiletta, rights and benefits of office oversea in this army and his share in the city of Damietta, or spoil therefrom, which in any form might accrue. To his wife, aforesaid Guiletta, his part in the tent with furnishings that she might enjoy fully and peacefully as she had heretofore. Such was the testament of Barzella Merxadrus, humble pilgrim, drawn up beside the walls. Some little note writ on parchment, a register of light account, nothing to inscribe on stone. And yet, what our Lord has created in His image, that does He embrace.
From Damietta to Cairo requires three days. Without bloodshed a route was found through Saramsah, which boasts a magnificent palace. Inhabitants who fled in terror from the mighty visage of God had scorched their fields. Still, the pilgrim host found vegetables, barley, straw, fruit hanging in the gardens.
Anon to that church where Blessed Mary paused with the child Jesus when she fled into Egypt and heathen idols toppled. From here is but half a league to that balsam garden where she drew water from a spring to wash the clothing of the Holy Infant. They say this garden is like a vineyard with plants growing after the fashion of willow. Sirobalsam is the name of this plant, which has a sparse leaf pointed like the licorice leaf. If a branch is cut or scratched a fragrant liquid seeps out and is caught in dishes. Afterward the balsam is poured into bottles that the sultan distributes as gifts to important princes. And in those days when God’s army marched against Cairo the master of the garden was Christian with infidel and Christian servants.
Throughout this demonic realm are Christians. Beyond Leemannia extends the broad land of Ethiopia, which is governed partly by devilish kings, partly by Christians. Here live the people of Nubia who signify the Cross with only one finger, arguing that two natures unite in the universal nature of Christ. Prester John, long thought to live in uttermost Asia, now rules as Negus, patiently waiting to deliver a blow for Christendom.
Soon enough the living host got sight of infidel Cairo, the vast extent of it, after which the lords took counsel with King John and Cardinal Pelagius and all agreed they should advance no further. Indeed, all thought it prudent to turn back at once. Now the sultan, who was full of wrath and exceeding shrewd, caused the river to be dammed and forced out of its bed. So it overflowed the isle where the pilgrims had encamped and near midnight they found themselves half afloat. The sultan could have drowned them, but did not. If he drowned them he would gain little because they had left Damietta strongly garrisoned. Therefore, keeping them in constraint, he made known they must withdraw and render up his port, else he would have the river submerge them to the last knight and mule and garbage rat. So the differing lords and Cardinal Pelagius and King John being overcome with distress, esteeming themselves fools, seeing what their case had become, fearful that none would survive this accursed land, reminded Sultan al-Kamil that both he and they might profit from the inestimable benefits of peace. And they made such agreement as they could, which altogether reflected the sultan’s will. Then he let loose those prisoners he held, requiring the presence of King John as hostage until his chastised army withdrew.
Thus, on the eighth day of September in that year 1221, Sultan al-Kamil got back Damietta while the Christian host embarked, gnawing their thumbs. Straightway did King John make for the city of Acre. Concerning the haughty and disagreeable legate, he fed himself with angry dreams, traveling north to carry out some directive from Honorius who was pontiff. Later he embarked to Europe. Honorius made use of him on various occasions. What the pontiff thought of this expedition I could not say, nor do chronicles report.
Guillaume le Clerc, a jongleur more adept at malice than craft, assaulted the Church with ugly verse. Because of Pelagius was Damietta lost through wicked folly! Let clerics recite psalms while knights give battle! Let the cleric pray for the knight, let him shrive the sinner! Ought not Rome be reproached for losing Damietta?
In Provence, drenched by heretic blood, Guillem Figueira sang out. Rome! False beyond compare, do you govern for aught but silver? Damietta was lost because of you! Child of an evil mother, privy to evil covenant! Rome! God punish you!
Yet here was Lady Gormonda de Montpellier defending the legate, charging the humiliation at Damietta to indiscreet and venal men. Peirol, troubadour and pilgrim, one of few that laid aside his instrument to confront unbelievers, sang furiously that Emperor Frederick was responsible for this defeat by virtue of hollow promises.
How shall crested men be checked? Frederick seemed reluctant to fulfill his vow. Albeit he took the cross in 1215, this grandson of Frederick Barbarossa found other matters more engaging. Nine years elapsed. Anon the balding little man with crooked back and sparse red hair saw fit to augment his empire through marriage to Princess Yolanda, age fourteen, heiress to Jerusalem’s throne. He sent her costly fabrics and jewels, handsome gifts to her uncles and other relatives. To the city of Tyre she was delivered in regal splendor where Archbishop Simon married her by proxy to Frederick and set the crown on her childish head. There ensued fifteen days of dances, tourneys, and feasting. This according to Philip de Novare.
That summer the tiny empress would embark for Brindisi, escorted by innumerable galleys. She was accompanied to shore by the queen of Cyprus and other highborn ladies, all weeping because they did not expect to see her again. Nor did they. One last moment she gazed upon the land and was heard to murmur. I commend you to God, beloved Syria.
At Brindisi the vows were celebrated afresh. However, Frederick soon took to bed a cousin of his bride. What grievance he held against Yolanda is not reported, but some time afterward he committed her to the harem he kept at Palermo. Here she gave birth to a son, Conrad, and one week later ascended to glory.
Frederick was by most accounts disposed to corpulence, solidly built, despite a skewed back by no means monstrous, with sensual lips and cold green eyes. What few hairs embellished his skull at age thirty was that distinctive reddish hair of the Hohenstaufen. They say he was fluent at Latin, French, Greek, Italian, and Arabic, his mind ravenous for knowledge, whether medical art, theology, science, music, or news of distant lands. For all this he could number his friends on the fingers of one hand since he was cruel, sly, selfish, vindictive, lascivious beyond understanding, and of such conceit he thought himself appointed viceroy to our Lord. Half-German, half-Norman, he sought the company of minnesingers and troubadours. He was himself a poet to some degree, artist, scientist who wrote at length on the anatomy of birds and the art of hawking. De arte venandi cum avibus. Stupor Mundi, so called by Matthew Paris. Indeed, who would not be astonished at a Christian emperor entranced by the wicked dogma of Islam? That he was born in Sicily might account for this. He spent much time there, child of an island half-Greek, half-Arab, compounded of West and East.
Al-Kamil directed Emir Fakhr al-Din to find out what sort of man this sovereign encyclopedia could be. So to Palermo came the emir and everything said about Frederick was true. He despised the barbaric West that was his home
and legacy. He spoke Arabic to perfection. His palace guard consisted of Arabs who bowed toward Mecca at times of prayer. The call of the muezzin sounded across his island.
Al-Kamil and this uncommon emperor began to exchange letters in which they considered such topics as immortality of the soul, the origin of the universe, and the logic of Aristotle. And when the sultan discovered that Frederick enjoyed studying the behavior of animals he shipped apes, bears, dromedaries, and elephants to Sicily. He felt greatly pleased to learn that Frederick disliked the persistent war between Muslim and Christian.
In our year of grace 1226 Frederick embarked for the promised land, taking but six hundred knights and not many sergeants as if he thought the expedition meaningless. Three days at sea Landgrave Louis of Thuringia succumbed to plague. Frederick quickly changed course to Otranto where he disembarked and hurried off to bathe in the springs of Pozzuoli. There he lingered until His Holiness Gregory excommunicated him. Such harsh treatment seemed to him unjust. He argued that he felt ill and vowed he would continue the journey. It is said the pontiff cursed him, accused him of poisoning Landgrave Louis. And those palmers in the expedition felt dismayed, thinking the emperor’s conduct disgraceful.
Once more he embarked for the Holy Land, accompanied now by seventy galleys as well as transports stuffed with knights and footmen. He put in at Cyprus, at Limassol where Richard Lionheart disembarked four decades earlier. To the lord of Arsuf, Jean d’Ibelin, who was then at Nicosia, he sent a courier.
I pray you and request you to come and dine with me, bringing your children and your friends, for I would honor and reward you.
Jean d’Ibelin willingly complied, traveling at once to Limassol where Frederick greeted him with every appearance of respect and called him Uncle. One favor was asked, that he with his retinue take off the black robes they wore in memory of Jean’s brother Philip who recently had died. Your pleasure at my arrival, said the emperor, ought to exceed the sorrow of your loss.
Jean d’Ibelin cheerfully acceded, whereupon Frederick gave him a scarlet cloak and some fine jewels. Jean responded with grace for he was half-French, half-Greek, assured in the labyrinth of diplomacy. My body, my heart, and my worldly goods I place at the disposition of the emperor, said he.
You shall be rewarded, Frederick answered. You shall be repaid amply and richly.
That night he ordered a postern in the wall adjoining the garden to be opened. Three thousand of his men were admitted through this gate, sergeants, arbalesters, mariners, who quartered themselves in stables, bedrooms, and elsewhere.
Next morning Frederick insisted that Jean d’Ibelin sit beside him at table and Jean’s two sons would serve, one with the cup, another with the bowl. Sir Anceau de Brie should carve, a muscular youth whose blotched skin, flat nose, and fierce expression made everyone think of a leopard. At Frederick’s table sat the king of Cyprus, the king of Salonika, the marquis of Lancia, and various high barons, all seated in such a way that they might watch the emperor when he spoke. Not until they had almost finished eating did Frederick announce the presence of his men. Here came almost an hundred, each gripping a dagger or a sword.
I require of you two things, said the emperor to his guest. First, you shall hand over to me the city of Beyrouth. Second, you have for ten years acted as bailiff of Cyprus since the death of King Hugh, therefore you must pay me what it is worth. That is, ten years of rent, which is my right according to German usage.
Sire, Jean d’Ibelin answered, I believe you mock me. Or it may be that some who hate me have counseled you to demand this.
Frederick touched himself on the head. I will have my way, said he. By this head, which often has worn the crown, I will have my way concerning these things I ask, else you are prisoners.
The lord of Arsuf stood up and spoke with great pride. Beyrouth do I have and hold as my rightful fief, since it was given to me by Queen Isabella, who was my sister on my mother’s side and a daughter of King Amalric. By the alms of Christendom and my own labor have I maintained and strengthened it. As for the regency and governance of Cyprus, I received no rent. Nor will I deny what I have said upon fear of death or threat of prison.
Your words are fine, the emperor said. But I will show you how subtlety of thought will not prevail.
Jean d’Ibelin answered. When I arranged to come here I was told by my council that you would do what you are now doing. I refused to believe it, yet I came fully aware. I should rather meet prison or death at your hands than have it thought or said that the worth of our Lord and the conquest of the Holy Land were neglected by me or by those of my lineage. I am prepared to endure all that might happen because of the love I bear our Lord who suffered death for us and who will deliver us. If it shall be His wish or design that I suffer death or imprisonment, then do I thank Him for it. In every way do I submit to Him.
Having said as much, Jean d’Ibelin sat down. Those at the table were astounded and afraid. They looked from him to the emperor. It is said that clerics intervened. So at last all agreed that the court of Jerusalem should decide. Meanwhile twenty Cypriot lords would be delivered up as hostage. By their selves, their goods, and their estates would they pledge Jean d’Ibelin to serve the emperor and warrant he should appear at court to prove his rights. Also, Frederick demanded his sons for hostage. These were Baldwin and Balian. The emperor had them trussed to iron crosses so they could not bend their arms or legs.
Afterward two lords came privately to speak with Jean d’Ibelin. Let us go with you to the emperor, they said. We will carry knives in our hose. We will stab him and our people will be on horseback at the door.
Jean d’Ibelin threatened to strike them, telling them that by such an act they would be disgraced. Throughout Christendom it would be said that traitors oversea had slain the Lord Emperor. Then must our right become wrong, the truth of our cause discredited. He is my lord, said Jean d’Ibelin to those who would assassinate Frederick, and I will keep my faith and honor.
After forty-three days on Cyprus the emperor embarked, whence he sailed to Acre and put ashore during the feast of Our Lady. Templars and Hospitalers dropped to the earth when he arrived and kissed his knees, thinking his appearance foretold the salvation of Israel. Citizens and clergy greeted him with respect but since he was excommunicate they did not confer on him the kiss of peace nor wish to join him at table. Most bitterly did Frederick rage against the pontiff, complaining that anathema was unjust.
Straightway he began cajoling and flattering Sultan al-Kamil because he coveted the throne of Jerusalem. He despatched ambassadors with fine gifts to Nablus where the sultan had encamped. Al-Kamil responded with gold, silver, jewels, racing camels, many wondrous things made of silk, and so forth. Anon they reached accord, which gave Frederick what he wanted. For a period of ten years, five months, and forty days there should be a truce enabling pilgrims to visit the Holy City. Nazareth, Bethlehem, Emmaus, Ramlah, Lydda, all would be restored to the kingdom. The road from Joppa would be secure. In exchange, Frederick vowed that his army would not threaten Egypt.
From Acre he marched south with eight hundred red knights and ten thousand foot soldiers to Joppa where it had been arranged for ships to victual the army. Now it may be the Lord God was furious because a storm blew up. Yet through His vast mercy, which permits no man to be tried beyond endurance, the wind abated, the sea abated. Then came a fleet to anchor with necessities. Rumors of this host gathering strength at Joppa disturbed the Saracens.
On the seventeenth day of March, in our year of grace 1229, Frederick entered Jerusalem. He requested the archbishops of Capua and Palermo to celebrate a coronation mass, but they would not, fearing the pontiff’s wrath. Nor would the patriarch of Jerusalem attend. Frederick went to the Holy Sepulcher on Sunday, lifted the crown from the altar and crowned himself. Hermann of Salza, Grand Master of Teutonic knights, read first in German, next in French, a proclamation justifying this arrogance.
Patriarch Gerold wrote in a missive to the faith
ful that it should be known how astonishing and deplorable was the conduct of this emperor to the great detriment of our Lord and Christianity, there being no common sense in him from the sole of his foot to the summit of his head. He came oversea excommunicate, impoverished, attended by not enough knights. He came first to Cyprus where most discourteously he seized Jean d’Ibelin and his sons who were invited to his table under pretext of discussion. And the king of Cyprus he retained almost captive. Thus through violence and fraud he got possession. Then to Syria, promising marvels, boasting loudly. Thither to Jerusalem on Sunday eve when Oculi mei is sung, which is the third Sunday of Lent. Without due ceremony he went next day to the chapel of the Holy Sepulcher, and to the manifest prejudice of honor and imperial dignity placed the diadem upon his own forehead. All this to the chagrin and bewilderment of pilgrims.
Once there had been cordial interchange, such as existed between King Fulk and the emir Mu’in al-Din. Or between Richard Lionheart and Saladin’s brother Malik al-Adil. But there lurked in the soul of this German some perverse and wicked taste for Mahometry. All knew he did not scruple to employ eunuchs as though he were a Muslim prince. All knew he bought Islamic girls for the harem. Yet he was not embraced by Saracen lords. He could not win their hearts. It was written in the Collar of Pearls that this balding emperor with weak eyes, smooth cheeks, and reddish body hair would not fetch two hundred dirhems at the slave market, did not in the least resemble those Christian paladins from long ago. Nor did Muslims think him religious in any way but an atheist, a skeptic who pretended.
During his first night in Jerusalem no muezzins called. Next day he consulted Shams al-Din, the qadi who guided him. Why did they not call the prayer? he asked.
Out of respect for your visit, said the qadi.
I am not pleased, said the emperor. If I spent this night in Jerusalem it was to hear the muezzins call.
Yet those he sought to flatter through egregious blasphemy mistrusted him. That he could disparage the faith to which he was born disquieted them. Christ, Mahomet, and Moses, said he to the Muslims, all three were imposters. And so they considered him void of faith.
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