The Dream and the Tomb

by Robert Payne

  The troops who marched back to Ascalon were luckier than the sailors who sailed back to Constantinople. Most of the fleet was wrecked in storms, and the bodies of drowned sailors cluttered the shores of Egypt and Palestine.

  In the following year, Jabala and Lattakieh on the coast were almost destroyed by earthquakes. Aleppo, Shaizar, Hama, Hims, and nearly all the fortress towns of Syria suffered. In June, Tripoli was struck with an earthquake so violent that nearly the entire population perished, and the huge fortress towers of Tyre crumbled and fell. Men came to believe that God was speaking to them out of the whirlwind, and for a few months there was a truce between the Christians and the Muslims, while the earth trembled and more towers fell. Then, in December, Saladin led his forces against Daron, a fortress near Gaza. The king succeeded in relieving Daron, whereupon Saladin attacked Gaza and massacred everyone in the city except the knights who had taken refuge in the fortress. Then Saladin marched back to Egypt, having shown that the southern defenses of the kingdom were more vulnerable than the king had believed.

  Once again the king turned to the emperor for help. He decided that the matter was so important that he would go himself to Constantinople to plead for the men, ships, and provisions he needed. He set out from Acre on March 10, 1171, and he was away from his kingdom for nearly a hundred days. The emperor entertained him royally, first at the Bucoleon Palace on the seashore, and then at the Blachernae Palace set in the northern corner of the city. There were urgent affairs to attend to; but Amaury went sightseeing.

  Various promises were made, various agreements were signed; and Amaury returned with the feeling that another massive expedition against Egypt with Byzantine help would be far more successful than the last. The documents have not survived, and we do not know what Amaury promised in return. Nor, for the moment, was there any need of Byzantine help. Saladin and Nur ed-Din had quarreled, and to this extent the kingdom was safe again, holding the balance of power between Damascus and Cairo. Nur ed-Din ordered an attack on Kerak of Moab, and Saladin obliged, then raised the siege when he heard that Nur ed-Din was leading his army out of Damascus. Saladin excused himself by saying that his father was dangerously ill in Egypt. This was true, but it was not the whole truth. Saladin by his ambition and scrupulous independence had incurred the enmity of Nur ed-Din. In the spring of 1174, Nur ed-Din died suddenly in Damascus; and in the summer, Amaury died in Jerusalem. The heir to the Crusader throne was a thirteen-year-old boy, the son of Amaury’s first wife, Agnes of Courtenay. The young boy stammered a little like his father. He had another defect which is rarely associated with kings: he was a leper.

  V

  THE YOUNG KING’S VALOR AND THE FALL OF JERUSALEM

  Baldwin IV:

  The Leper King

  HE was the bravest, the most intelligent, the most understanding of the kings of Jerusalem, and it is possible to feel for him a respect one has for none of the other kings. He was kindly and solicitous toward others, he understood exactly what was demanded of him, and he was learned about all the affairs of the Levant, but what was most important about him during his brief reign was a certain style, a way of looking at life with eagerness and grace. For most of his life he fought against terrible odds: his sickness, the declining energies of the kingdom, the quarrels within the royal family, the sense that the Arabs were acquiring the upper hand. Yet he knew at all times what he must do, and he was one of the very few who succeeded in cutting Saladin’s army to pieces.

  Baldwin IV was thirteen years old when he came to the throne, and it is worth noting that, in spite of the fact that Baldwin IV had been suffering from leprosy for at least four years, and this was known to all the nobles at court, there was not a single dissenting voice at his coronation in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. He was consecrated and crowned four days after his father’s death, and thereafter, as long as he was conscious, he commanded the loyalties of the kingdom.

  The historian William of Tyre, who was his tutor, had known the king as a boy, taught him his letters, instructed him in his religious duties, and superintended every aspect of his education. One day when the boy was about nine years old, William of Tyre was told of a strange incident that occurred when the prince was playing with noblemen of his own age. The boys were pinching each other’s arms and hands to see which one could bear the pain longest, and they realized to their astonishment that Baldwin could bear any amount of pain, not because he was brave, but because he was insensitive; he seemed to have no nerves in his right arm and right hand. William of Tyre immediately consulted the medical books and found in the works of Hippocrates some words that indicated that lack of feeling was an indication of a very grave and dangerous sickness. King Amaury had to be told, the best doctors were consulted, fomentations were applied, oils of various kinds were rubbed into his skin, and even more severe medicaments were given to him, including some that contained poisons. But nothing availed. The illness continued on its course, attacking especially the face and limbs. What made it all the more horrible was that the boy was handsome, gifted, and possessed a rare refinement and delicacy of manner. Fortunately, he also had an inner strength, which permitted him to endure his sickness without complaint. William of Tyre says that he resembled his father; even his way of walking and the tone of his voice were exactly like his father’s. He had very bright eyes, an aquiline nose, blond hair drawn back from his forehead and reaching to his shoulders, and he laughed quickly and sometimes explosively, his whole body shaking. His father was a man who measured his words; Baldwin IV measured them even more carefully either because he disliked attracting attention to himself or because he wanted to think carefully before he spoke, knowing that as a king his words would have special significance.

  The knowledge that the young king was suffering from leprosy made very little difference to the life of the court. It was as though they expected him to recover miraculously; meanwhile the disease was not to be talked about, it was not to be included in their plans, it did not exist. For a few years, until he came of age, he reigned but did not rule. A bailli, or guardian, was found. This was Miles of Plancy, the husband of Stephanie of Kerak, a man who relished his high position and had been very close to King Amaury, but was totally ineffective in directing the affairs of the kingdom. William of Tyre described him as a man so proud that he scorned all the other barons. He was lavish in high-sounding speech, and openly admitted that he relied on the advice of the commander of the citadel of Jerusalem to the extent that he blamed the commander for the errors he made himself.

  There were many who realized that Miles of Plancy’s ineffectiveness threatened the kingdom. One day, in the autumn of 1174, after being bailli for only two or three months, he was stabbed in a public street in Acre. The murder took place at dusk and the assailants got away, but not before the body of the proud nobleman had been submitted to terrible indignities. Since William of Tyre was in a position to know everything that could possibly be known about him, and could not decide whether he was assassinated because he was thought to be excessively loyal to the king or because he was himself attempting to seize the throne, the real reason must remain uncertain. What is certain is that Stephanie of Kerak, now twice-widowed, felt that the assassination had been ordered by Count Raymond of Tripoli, who succeeded her husband as bailli of the kingdom.

  Raymond of Tripoli was a far more impressive character, hard, reserved, efficient, and capable of prompt action. It was remembered of him that he could be generous to strangers when it served his diplomatic purpose, but was not in the least lavish toward his familiars. He possessed the gift of equanimity. In the feverish court of the leper king, which was full of intrigues, the gift of equanimity was especially valuable. The Arabs regarded him as the ablest Crusader of his time.

  Not that Raymond of Tripoli was a paragon, for he had many faults. He had foresight, but did not always see far enough. His relationship with the king was firm but not affectionate, and he could do very little to exorcise the dark spirits which
crowded round the head of the king, who knew he was dying even before he was raised to the throne. Raymond of Tripoli’s appointment to the guardianship augured well for the kingdom.

  It is one of the fictions of history that men gifted with foresight, intelligence, and sobriety will bend history to their will more effectively than those who are lacking in these virtues. They are men who can be relied upon to act decisively; they will not make terrible errors. Yet Raymond of Tripoli, always acting reasonably, with far more understanding of the real problems of Syria and Palestine than anyone else in his time, contributed as much as any man to the downfall of the kingdom.

  There was a moment shortly before Baldwin IV ascended the throne when Raymond of Tripoli made one of the greatest mistakes of his life. If he was aware of it, he thought it was something that could easily be repaired. A Flemish knight called Gerard of Ridfort, just arrived from Flanders, entered his service. He was strongly built, handsome, audacious, quite obviously one of those young men who would amount to something. King Amaury was also impressed with him. Here was someone who could be trained for high position, but needed a more or less prolonged period of discipline. In character he was exactly the opposite of Raymond, and this may account for the attraction between them. Since Gerard of Ridfort had no fortune, Raymond in an unguarded moment promised, or half-promised, him the first good marriage that would become available within his territory. Some months passed, and a certain Guillaume Dorel, Lord of Botrun, died, leaving a daughter by his first wife. Gerard asked for the hand of the daughter, who was an heiress and very beautiful. He was refused. It so happened that a certain merchant from Pisa, having recently arrived in Tripoli, became violently enamored of Lucia of Botrun and offered to pay her weight in gold in order to be permitted to marry her. Raymond accepted the offer, put her on the scales, watched as the merchant heaped ten thousand bezants in the other pan, and accepted the offer. In these feudal times, the property of the underlords at their deaths fell by right of inheritance to the overlords, and there was nothing remarkable in the fact that Lucia of Botrun should be sold in this way. But it would have been better for the safety of the kingdom if the merchant from Pisa and all his money had been thrown into the sea.

  For Raymond had made a mortal enemy of Gerard of Ridfort. Raymond was not himself a man who bore grudges, and it is possible that he knew nothing whatever about Gerard’s infatuation with Lucia, or very little. It was something that could be explained away; the young knight had asked for something quite impossible and easily forgotten. But Gerard of Ridfort swore vengeance.

  At about this time the affairs of the kingdom were no longer in the control of the king: the fate of the kingdom depended upon the decisions of Saladin, who, possessing both Cairo and Damascus, needed only Aleppo to make himself master of an Islamic empire. Accordingly he laid siege to Aleppo with a powerful army composed of troops from both Egypt and Damascus. He expected Aleppo to fall; so did many of its citizens. But the governor of the city called upon the Crusaders and the Assassins for help and their indirect intervention. The Assassins, in their headquarters at Masyaf, a fortress in the Nosairi mountains, belonged to a heretical sect which believed that murder was a legitimate political weapon. They were at this time ruled by a certain Sheikh Sinan, known as the Old Man of the Mountain, who possessed authority over perhaps a thousand men trained in political assassination. This word derives from hashish, and it was widely believed that the youthful Assassins were high on drugs when they committed murder.

  The Assassins sent out their cutthroats in disguise to attempt to kill Saladin, and the Crusaders attacked the fortress of Hims as a diversionary measure and forced Saladin to raise the siege. Gumushtekin, Governor of Aleppo, was so delighted with the assistance offered him by the king’s army that he released Reynald of Châtillon who had been languishing in a dungeon for sixteen years.

  The strange alliance between the Assassins and the Crusaders lasted a little while longer. Saladin attacked Masyaf but then thought better of it, being convinced that the Old Man of the Mountain possessed magic powers. Once an Assassin slipped into his tent while he was sleeping and would have killed him if Saladin had not been wearing chain mail under his turban. At another time, he found a poisoned dagger on his bed and was convinced that the Old Man of the Mountain had himself entered his tent. He conducted a correspondence with Sinan and made an accommodation with him: they agreed not to enter each other’s territory, to respect each other’s rights, and to negotiate such differences as might arise. Even so, Sinan continued to help the Crusaders as long as it served his purpose.

  While Saladin was besieging Aleppo, the combined armies of Raymond of Tripoli and the king converged on the Bek’aa, the fertile valley which leads to the city of Baalbek. The valley was being defended by Turanshah, the brother of Saladin, and here the Crusaders won a signal victory. Turanshah’s army was crushed, a vast amount of booty was taken, and the Christians returned to Tyre to divide the booty. The king had shown himself to be a very capable military commander.

  There followed a period of truce, while Saladin regrouped his forces and the young king set about strengthening his position by repairing his fortresses and by urging the princes of Europe to join the Crusade.

  Since it was obvious that Baldwin IV would not enjoy a long life, the question of the succession arose quite early in his reign. By the law of Jerusalem, his elder sister Sibylla would become queen at his death, and her husband would become king. It was, therefore, of the utmost importance that a husband worthy of kingship should be found for her. Sibylla was impetuous, with no understanding of royal responsibilities; she needed to be tamed. A suitable tamer was found in William Long-Sword, a son of the marquis of Montferrat, who had the reputation of being a good commander. He had a fierce temper, but could be very calm and judicious when it served his purpose. William Long-Sword was eminently a man who could control Sibylla and rule a kingdom.

  Unfortunately, three months after the marriage, William died of malaria, leaving a pregnant Sibylla. The succession was once more in doubt, and messages were sent all over Europe in the hope of securing another bridegroom. The king himself was very ill with malaria, and was expected to die at any moment. The choice of a new king therefore presented considerable urgency.

  Not long after the death of William Long-Sword, there arrived in Acre the very personable and illustrious Philip of Alsace, Count of Flanders. He was accompanied by an impressive retinue of knights, a considerable amount of wealth, and a reputation nearly as exalted as that of William Long-Sword. His father, Thierry of Alsace, Count of Flanders, had taken part in earlier Crusades and his mother, Sibylla of Anjou, was a notable benefactor of the Holy Land. Philip was met in Jerusalem by the king, who came hurrying up from Ascalon while still weak from his long bout with malaria. Deeply impressed by the count of Flanders, the king summoned an assembly, which included the patriarch of Jerusalem, the archbishops, bishops, abbots, priors, the chief members of the laity, and the masters of the Hospital and the Temple, and it was agreed that Philip should become regent “without restraint.” He was to be given full powers to administer the kingdom in peace and war, in internal affairs and in foreign affairs, and the treasury and revenues of the kingdom were to be placed at his disposal. The count rejected this royal gift, saying that he had come to Jerusalem not to seek power, but in order to devote himself to divine service. In fact, as he admitted later, the real reason for his coming was to marry off two of his cousins, Sybilla and Isabelle, to the sons of a nobleman called Robert of Béthune. The barons of Jerusalem were aghast when they heard that, and they said openly that they thought he had come for the sake of the Holy Sepulchre, not to act as the marriage broker of two young women. Philip, distressed by so many baronial admonitions, threatened to leave Jerusalem.

  This was a bad time for leaving, because the Emperor Manuel Comnenus, in a gesture that showed he had forgiven the loss of an entire fleet, was preparing to offer the king of Jerusalem another fleet for the conque
st of Egypt, but only on condition that Philip lead the expedition. Philip studied the situation and concluded that this new invasion of Egypt would be suicidal. He had evidently read reports by the captains of the previous invasion and talked to the survivors. He spoke a little too loudly. The emperor’s ambassadors heard of it, and William of Tyre, who acted as the chief negotiator, felt that Philip was being unnecessarily frivolous. Philip thereupon offered to obey the king in all things, even to leading the Egyptian expedition; but then he retracted the offer, saying that he had no interest in fighting but only in making pilgrimages.

  Having lost hope that Philip would serve in any notable capacity, and being desperately in need of a captain-general who would take command of the kingdom in the absence of the king or when the king was incapacitated by his illness, the barons with the king’s assent began to search for a new regent. Their choice fell on Reynald of Châtillon, the former prince of Antioch, who was described by William of Tyre as “a man of proven loyalty and remarkable steadfastness.” He became regent of the kingdom and commander in chief of the army, and it was declared that he would be assisted by Raymond of Tripoli, the implication being that Raymond would share the power with him. Power, therefore, was divided between three men: the king, Reynald of Châtillon and Raymond of Tripoli. This was an unworkable division of power, and in fact the power remained in the hands of the king, who recovered from his malaria, although his leprosy progressed apace.