The Crusader States

by Malcolm Barber

  Despite his fears, Baldwin recovered from his illness of the winter of 1116–17 and, characteristically, turned again to the problems posed by Tyre and Ascalon. Both had proved very difficult to take and both had been used as bases for Fatimid attacks. In 1117, the king decided to try to keep the inhabitants of Tyre pinned within the walls, in much the same way as Raymond of Toulouse had used Mount Pilgrim, by building a new castle about 5 miles away, which he called Scandelion.105 Ascalon had been particularly dangerous because, although no great armies had been landed since the early years of the reign, it still enabled the Egyptians to inflict regular damage on the southern part of the kingdom. At the beginning of 1111, Shams al-Khilafa, the governor of Ascalon, apparently impressed by Baldwin's recent capture of Sidon, allowed a garrison of Christian troops (probably Armenian) into the city, only for the governor and the troops to be killed while the king was away in the north helping Baldwin of Bourcq fend off a threat to Turbessel.106 Opportun-istic attacks from Ascalon therefore remained a problem. One such foray, in 1113, made while the king was preoccupied with Mawdud at as-Sennabra, had caused serious damage to the fragile agricultural infrastructure around Jerusalem, while in August 1115 an attempt had been made to take advantage of Baldwin's absence in the north to besiege Jaffa, initially in concert with an Egyptian fleet.107

  Baldwin therefore determined to take the war into Egypt itself, an idea he seems to have had in mind since the early years of the reign.108 Albert of Aachen says that he ‘decided to conquer the realm of Egypt itself’ which would prevent the city from being supplied, thus making it less ‘proud and rebellious’, a plan also alleged by a later Muslim observer, Ibn al-Athir.109 This seems unlikely, since the force of 216 cavalry and 400 infantry that Albert says accompanied him appears inadequate for such an undertaking; indeed, Albert himself calls it ‘a tiny army’.110 Nevertheless, it was a serious invasion, for an eleven-day march brought them to the eastern Nile Delta, where, on 22 March, the inhabitants of Farama (Pelusium) took flight, leaving Baldwin in possession of the town.

  Baldwin's vassals now urged him to strike at Cairo before the Egyptians had time to organise themselves, since they claimed it was only three days’ journey. However, while the king and his men were in the process of dismantling the defences of Farama, Baldwin once more became seriously ill, news that almost immediately drained the men of confidence. Baldwin was now fully convinced that his end was near and urged them to take him back to Jerusalem so that he could be buried next to his brother, Godfrey, and not be left in the land of the Saracens, where his grave would be ‘an object of mockery and derision’. Given the heat and the distance, it would be necessary for his body to be eviscerated and his internal organs discarded so that the rest could be preserved with salt, a task entrusted to Addo, his cook, who had sworn an oath to carry out his wishes.111 Fulcher of Chartres says that Baldwin's problem was ‘the renewal of pain from an old wound’.112 This probably refers to injuries sustained in July 1103, when, while hunting near Caesarea, he was struck in the back by a spear in a skirmish with forces from Ascalon.113

  The king survived until the forces reached al-Arish, where he died on 2 April; his remains were carried back to Jerusalem five days later, on Palm Sunday. He was buried in the Calvary Chapel, in the porch of the Holy Sepulchre next to Godfrey, as soon as the Palm Sunday service was completed, for his body was decomposing rapidly and it was considered unseemly to keep it any longer. The interment was notably dignified and splendid, perhaps reflecting the ceremonial that marked imperial burials both in Byzantium and the West.114 The mausoleum was, says Albert of Aachen, one fitting for kings, ‘of great and wonderful workmanship, and white polished marble, grander than the rest of the tombs’.115

  By coincidence Baldwin's body reached Jerusalem just as the Palm Sunday procession was descending from the Mount of Olives into the valley of Jehoshaphat, and therefore they were able to carry it through the Golden Gate on the eastern side of the city through which they believed Christ had entered in triumph a week before the Resurrection, and which was only opened on that day and on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.116 This provided an impressive setting, for it was an integral part of the liturgy of the Latin Church of Jerusalem. The patriarch had processed from Bethany accompanied by the guardian of the True Cross as well as the canons and monks of the monasteries of Mount Sion, the Mount of Olives and the valley of Jehoshaphat. When the procession arrived at the Temple, it was met by an assembly of clergy and people carrying palms blessed by the prior of the Holy Sepulchre.117

  In the twelfth century burials of this kind are closely linked to the development of dynastic cults, based on the assumption of hereditary succession. Albert of Aachen's description therefore lends credence to his account of Baldwin's arrangements for the succession, made in the presence of his vassals on 26 March while they were still in Egypt. ‘Baldwin resolved the kingdom should go to his brother Eustace, if by chance he would come. If indeed he was unable because of his age, Baldwin of Bourcq should be chosen …’118 In fact, Baldwin of Bourcq had the immense advantage of arriving in Jerusalem at almost the same time as the bier carrying the king's body, a circumstance that William of Tyre ascribes to coincidence but that must have owed something to an earlier arrangement, since Fulcher of Chartres says he had come to consult with the king.119 Albert of Aachen's version, that he had come to Jerusalem for Easter worship and knew nothing about the king's death, is not inconsistent with Fulcher's account, although William of Tyre's story that he speeded up his march when a messenger brought news of Baldwin's death sounds more realistic.120 Eustace, on the other hand, would take time to reach the East, nor would the prelates and nobles of Jerusalem have known whether he was willing to come, even after he had been informed of his brother's death. They were aware, of course, that he had been the only one of the brothers who had returned to the West after the crusade, which might suggest no particular enthusiasm for settling in Palestine.121

  A council was held and, according to both Fulcher of Chartres and Albert of Aachen, Baldwin of Bourcq was the general choice, and he was accordingly consecrated on Easter Day (14 April).122 Then, according to Albert, ‘on an appointed day’, all the leading nobles assembled at the royal palace in what the Latins believed had been the Temple of Solomon, and Baldwin ‘granted each his fief, receiving fealty and an oath of allegiance from them, and sending each back home with honour’. He then took a series of key places under his direct control, including Nablus, Samaria, Jaffa, Haifa, Hebron, Acre, Sidon and Tiberias, using some of the revenues to reward ‘his nobles’.

  The apparent smoothness of the succession is, however, deceptive, for there had been a vigorous debate, vaguely referred to by Albert of Aachen, but described in detail by William of Tyre, who says that some wanted to wait for Eustace and ‘not interfere with the ancient law of hereditary succession’, while others argued that, given the circumstances in which they lived, a leader was urgently needed. The decisive voices were Patriarch Arnulf and Joscelin of Courtenay, lord of Tiberias, the latter seeing an opportunity to fill the vacancy in the county of Edessa, although William claims that this ambition was not evident at the time. Certainly, Joscelin's voice gained added force from the fact that it was well known that Baldwin had previously deprived him of his fief at Turbessel, and it might therefore be thought that he would consequently have opposed him. Moreover, since his enforced transfer to the south in 1114, he had become ‘a man of very great influence in the kingdom’.123

  William describes the new king as ‘a just man, pious and God-fearing’, adding, with considerable exaggeration, that he was successful in all he undertook. Nevertheless, William had misgivings, for he felt that the legitimate heir had been fraudulently excluded, a view influenced both by his legal training and by his strong belief in hereditary succession. Indeed, he says that some ‘great nobles’ had been sent to offer the throne to Eustace, who had reluctantly agreed, only to turn back in Apulia when he heard of Baldwin's election. T
his supports William's view that there were two parties, although he admits he does not know whether the envoys had been acting on the wishes of Baldwin I, or whether they had been sent by ‘the princes of the realm’. William's doubts can be easily understood. Baldwin's relationship to his predecessor is by no means clear; there is no evidence that he was his cousin, as is sometimes said. Indeed, the families of his parents, Rethel and Montlhéry, were much more closely connected to the Ile-de-France than to Lotharingia, where they had spent much of their time in rebellion against the Capetians.124 In these circumstances the attitude of some sections of the Jerusalem nobility is understandable, for the whiff of opportunism was all too strong.

  However, this is a puzzling story in that William says that the envoys set off ‘on the death of the king’, which would imply a departure so rapid that they had left before Baldwin of Bourcq's election.125 Hans Mayer sees a debate that developed in two stages. In the first it was decided to send envoys to ask Eustace, but once they had departed a second meeting took place at which Arnulf and Joscelin convinced the others that they should elect Baldwin. This would have been easier than before as the main supporters of Eustace were no longer in the kingdom.126 That would explain Eustace's journey to Apulia, where news of the choice of Baldwin would have come as a surprise. This scenario is just about possible, but it presupposes an extremely tight timescale, for Baldwin was consecrated only a week after his predecessor's death. Moreover, it assumes that the supporters of Eustace were so incautious as to leave no powerful representatives to prevent what was, in effect, a coup d'état.127 It may be, of course, that the envoys had set off despite Baldwin's election, to which they were not prepared to accede, since William presents them as urging Eustace to continue on his journey even after he had learnt of Baldwin's election, which they describe as ‘contrary to law both human and divine’. Such strength of feeling had some basis. Eustace and his family were proud of his crusading feats, especially during the siege of Jerusalem, and both Guibert of Nogent, who was a contemporary, and William of Tyre rated his reputation as equal to that of his brothers. In these circumstances he must have seemed the logical choice to many of the nobles of the kingdom, although, of course, they were taking no account of Eustace's own concerns in the West.128 If the legitimists ‘were prepared to risk civil war’ at this point, then this may have been their attitude from the beginning.129

  William's account, put together many years later, unsurprisingly leaves loose ends, while those better placed to know, especially Fulcher of Chartres and Albert of Aachen, choose not to draw attention to the evident divisions among the kingdom's elite. Although Baldwin had been consecrated within a week of his predecessor's death, there was a delay of twenty months before his coronation, which took place in Bethlehem at Christmas 1119.130 Matthew of Edessa says that he had first refused the regency, but that he had agreed to wait a year for Eustace to appear, after which the throne would be his.131 This does not seem to be very plausible, as consecration, rather than crowning, was the determinant in making a king. Nevertheless, it is difficult to explain the delay entirely in terms of contingent events, such as the time taken to replace Arnulf, who died two weeks after the consecration and was not succeeded by Warmund of Picquigny until August or September, or, more importantly, the need to rush to the defence of Antioch after the defeat and death of Roger of Antioch near al-Atharib on 28 June 1119.132 Most likely, Baldwin wanted a joint coronation with his wife, Morphia, who was not in the kingdom at the time of his accession.133 Whatever the exact circumstances, however, Baldwin II was in a weaker position than his predecessor, and this helps to explain the discernible undercurrent of dissent that persisted throughout his reign and that had continued repercussions under his successor, Fulk of Anjou.

  CHAPTER 6

  Antioch and Jerusalem

  NAJM al-Din Il-Ghazi was the son of Artuq, the leader of the Turcoman tribe of the Oghuz that, in the course of the eleventh century, had joined the Seljuk migration from the region to the north-east of the Caspian Sea into Persia. In 1086, Artuq was made governor of Jerusalem by Tutush, brother of the sultan, Malik-Shah, and when he died, in 1091, the city was left under the control of his sons, Soqman and Il-Ghazi. In July 1098, a year before the arrival of the crusaders, they were besieged by al-Afdal, vizier of Fatimid Egypt, and forced to surrender, although al-Afdal allowed them to go free to Damascus.1 This gave them the opportunity to establish themselves elsewhere: by 1102, Soqman held Hisn Kayfa on the Tigris, north of Mosul, and in 1108 Il-Ghazi took Mardin, about 40 miles to the south-west. These fortresses were well away from the original Artuqid centre in Palestine, but they were much more likely to bring them into contact and conflict with the Franks in Edessa and Antioch. Soqman fought the Franks in the army of Kerbogha outside Antioch in 1098 and again at Harran in 1104, but he died in 1105, and it was Il-Ghazi who made the real impact in the second decade of the twelfth century.2

  Il-Ghazi was not amenable to outside control. Indeed, most of his career was spent in manoeuvring for power among other minor Seljuk rulers in Diyar Bakr in the Upper Tigris region to the north-west of Baghdad. This was an unstable world of raiding and looting, for Il-Ghazi could not function without satisfying the needs of the Turcomans who comprised his forces, and their chief interests were pasture and booty.3 Although he contributed to the coalition of Muslim forces led by Mawdud in 1110, he was not responsive to calls from the sultan to take part in the jihad and consequently was not present at the defeat of Bursuq by Roger of Antioch in 1115. Indeed, according to Matthew of Edessa, until 1119, Roger and Il-Ghazi were ‘very intimate friends’, but in that year they became enemies, a situation brought about by Roger's capture of the fortress of ‘Azaz, about 26 miles to the north-west of Aleppo.4 Roger was ambitious to extend his power, most importantly to the key city of Aleppo, which was situated about 66 miles to the east of Antioch and was desired by the Franks for obvious economic and strategic reasons. ‘Azaz was seen as Aleppo's ‘gate of entry and exit’.5

  By the early summer of 1119, Roger had placed such suffocating pressure on the city that it could no longer survive without outside help, for the Franks now controlled a semicircle of fortresses to the west of Aleppo which included ‘Azaz, Sarmada, al-Atharib and Zardana.6 The city itself was in a poor state, suffering from decades of misrule, compounded by the pervasive presence of the Isma'ilis, and economically undermined by the ravages of the Turcomans in its hinterland. Although he clearly preferred Mardin, in 1117–18 Il-Ghazi responded to a call for help from Aleppo, a move that brought him into direct confrontation with the principality of Antioch.7 According to the thirteenth-century Arab historian of Aleppo Kamal al-Din, ‘Messages were sent to all the kings of the oriental provinces and to the Turcomans asking for help’, for the Franks from al-Atharib were making incessant attacks upon Aleppo and the town was in despair.8 This atmosphere of crisis is confirmed by the contemporary witness of Ibn al-Qalanisi, who says that throughout the year 512 (April 1118 to April 1119) there had been many rumours that the Franks desired ‘to possess themselves of fortresses and cities’ and that this was 'owing to the neglect of Islam to make raids upon them and to prosecute the Holy War’.9

  In reaction to this, Tughtigin of Damascus and Il-Ghazi began to assemble forces and, by the spring of 1119, had gathered them at Aleppo ‘in vast numbers and manifest strength, as lions seeking their prey and gerfalcons hovering over their victims’.10 Kamal al-Din claims that Il-Ghazi had brought more than 40,000 men from beyond the Euphrates.11 When the news reached Antioch, Roger put together his own army, including a considerable number of Armenian troops whom he had used successfully in the past, and set out for Artah. Here he was counselled by Bernard of Valence, patriarch of Antioch, to remain, since, according to Walter the Chancellor, it was a place well supplied with food and drink, and difficult to approach from the east because of the hills of the Jabal Talat and the dense vegetation in the valleys and along the crags.12 Bernard must have known that Roger had sent for hel
p from King Baldwin of Jerusalem, at that time campaigning against the Damascenes in the Jordan valley.13 However, Walter the Chancellor says that Roger ‘was advised by certain barons, whose possessions the enemy was accustomed to lay waste every single year’, not to wait any longer.14 As it happened, Il-Ghazi had himself been delayed, for he was awaiting promised reinforcements from Tughtigin but, as Kamal al-Din puts it, ‘his emirs, tired of the immobility he had imposed on them, joined together and asked to march on the enemy at once’.15 On this occasion, the well-known military convention that direct confrontation should be avoided unless the outcome was certain was ignored by both leaders, each of whom was taking an immense risk.

  In the event, Il-Ghazi proved the better tactician. While Roger settled his army into its new camp at Balat, near Sarmada, on 27 June, Il-Ghazi began to besiege al-Atharib, a move that Walter the Chancellor saw as a diversionary tactic, but that may, in fact, have been a genuine attempt to capture the fortress.16 Both sides were now very close and well aware of each other's presence; indeed, cavalry skirmishes led Roger to decide to relieve al-Atharib the next day, and before daybreak the soldiers assembled for public confession and mass.17 In that sense the Antiochene army was not unprepared, but it was not until warned by his scouts that Roger realised that the Turks had already begun an encircling movement, having apparently reached their positions along routes the Christians thought to be impassable.18 An immensely fierce battle followed, but from Walter the Chancellor's description it is evident that the Antiochene army had not had time to organise itself properly and sections of it began to run away before others had even engaged the enemy. The turcopoles were apparently the first to take flight, but became entangled in Roger's own battle line as it moved forward. The confusion was increased by what Walter calls a ‘whirlwind’, which brought up huge clouds of dust. With his men being cut down all around him, Roger was killed by a sword thrust from below that ran though his nose and penetrated his brain, ‘and settling his debt to death in the name of the Lord, in the presence of the symbol of the Holy Cross he gave up his body to the earth and his soul to heaven’.19 Many had already fled by this time, anxious to escape over the Jabal Talat before it was too late. After Roger's death, says Walter, ‘the battlefield was so hemmed in and access and paths to the mountains and valleys so observed, that not a single person trying to escape was able to get through unscathed’.20