by Jeffrey Lee
When Prince Reynald who was in Kerak, saw how effectively they were filling the ditch, he ordered a sergeant to climb down the cliff and report to the King of Jerusalem on how badly the fortress was damaged and how the ditch was being filled.8
As the besiegers prepared to cross the ditch and storm the castle, the army of Jerusalem finally approached. Saladin was again forced to retire empty-handed, though his troops crossed the Jordan and sacked the towns of Nablus and Jenin on the way back to Damascus.
Oultrejordan had some strategic value, but Saladin’s focus on Kerak betrays his personal obsession with overcoming Arnat. Reynald’s provocations of the sultan were proving much more than irresponsible adventures; they benefited the Latin states by diverting Saladin’s efforts against the hated Prince of Kerak. The rising tide of Muslim power in the Levant was beating uselessly against the impervious walls of the great fortress of Moab.
This second relief of Kerak in 1184 was one of the last events recorded in the great history of William of Tyre. Not long afterwards the Archbishop died, excommunicate and in exile. With his political rivals in the ascendancy and the kingdom’s leadership bitterly divided, William’s last entries are very pessimistic:
We who used frequently to triumph over our enemies and bring home the palm of victory with glory, now in almost every conflict, being deprived of Divine grace, are the losers.9
Still, despite the growing power of Saladin, the jihad was making little real progress. Outnumbered and surrounded, the Latin states were proving doughty opponents. Somehow the sultan needed to weaken them further before being able to try another decisive blow. Luckily, fate and the Franks themselves would do much of his work for him.
* This may be the source of Reynald’s erroneous reputation for throwing prisoners over the ramparts.
Ascalon, Kingdom of Jerusalem, December 1183
The towering walls of Ascalon were lined with curious townspeople. They stared, transfixed, at the sandy ground before the gatehouse, where a strange and excruciating scene was unfolding.
Below them their ruler, the diseased King of Jerusalem, lay on a litter, attended by all the leading barons of his realm. At his arrival the city gates had not been flung open to welcome the monarch. They had been shut in his face. Now the litter was carried forward towards the bolted gates.
Summoning all his strength, the king struck the gate with what remained of his decaying hand. He called on the Count of Jaffa and Ascalon, Guy de Lusignan, to come forth.
Frozen in place by fascination and fear, the onlookers knew that deep political divisions in the kingdom had led to this. The king and the Count of Jaffa had a deep and ever-worsening loathing for each other. So far had Guy fallen from grace that the king wished to exclude him from any chance of inheriting the throne.
Guy was not going to risk arrest, nor would he allow access to his wife, Princess Sybilla, who was closeted with him in Ascalon. He knew the king planned to separate them and annul their marriage.
The gate remained firmly shut.
Twice more the king beat upon the doors and called on Guy. Twice more there was no response.
The king collapsed back onto his litter, and his entourage turned away from the gate of Ascalon and rode slowly away northwards across the dunes. As soon as he arrived at Jaffa, Guy’s other major possession, Baldwin seized the city from his rebellious brother-in-law.
With Guy and his clique out of favour, when the king finally weakened, it would be to Raymond of Tripoli that he would turn.
Reynald’s greatest rival would finally win power.
Chapter 17
THE ‘MANCHURIAN’ REGENT
The most considerable among the accursed Franks is the accursed Count, the Lord of Tripoli and Tiberias… He is qualified to be king and is indeed a candidate for the office. He was a prisoner of Nur al-Din’s… then ransomed himself by a payment of a great sum in the time of the first governorship of Saladin, to whom he admits his vassalage and emancipation.
Ibn Jubayr1
Poor Raymond… Made to commit acts too unspeakable to be cited here… by an enemy who had captured his mind and his soul…
Marco in The Manchurian Candidate2
King Baldwin IV did not long survive the superhuman effort of his struggle with his brother-in-law. In 1184 he received the shocking news that Guy had raided the Bedouin close to the Egyptian border. These nomads grazed their flocks under the king’s protection. Attacking them not only alienated useful allies of the Franks, but was also a blatantly rebellious affront to the king. The distress of this news was too much for the young man and he fell mortally ill.
Baldwin was now clearly dying and was determined to make provision for the succession, without including Guy. He summoned all the nobles of the realm and turned back the clock to the beginning of his reign, reappointing Raymond of Tripoli as regent. It is interesting that he did not turn to Reynald here, perhaps because the Lord of Kerak was so absorbed in defending his fief from the constant attacks of Saladin; less likely perhaps because, eight years on from Mont Gisard, the warrior prince, now around sixty, was regarded as too old. It is possible that the king’s dislike of Guy was so great that it extended to those who had supported him. We may also finally see Baldwin acting without the influence of his mother – Queen Agnes died around this time. Baldwin insisted that all the nobles again swear fealty to his nephew, Baldwin V, and to Raymond as regent. Apart from Guy de Lusignan, all the nobles obliged, even Reynald and Joscelin.
In the spring of 1185, the poor leper finally died. He was twenty-three years old. Despite his terrible disease he had bravely, and at the cost of great personal suffering, managed to maintain the kingdom intact against the menace of Saladin. Without his illness he might have been a great king. Only the example of his sacrifice and his royal charisma had kept the ambitious magnates of the kingdom from tearing it apart. On his death, the deep divisions that he bequeathed soon emerged. Reynald had been utterly loyal to the king throughout his reign, apart from a query over the doubtful episode of the caravan in 1182. After Baldwin’s death, he continued to follow the leper-king’s wishes, swearing to obey Count Raymond as regent. Many barons, though, including Reynald, remained very suspicious of Raymond; the count’s royal ambitions were common knowledge. As Ibn Jubayr wrote of his travel through the Holy Land in autumn 1184, the ‘shrewd and crafty’ Raymond was ‘qualified to be king and indeed is a candidate for the office’.3 And according to Ibn al-Athir, ‘The Franks had nobody more influential than him, none braver and more excellent in counsel… he was ambitious to be king.’4
Those magnates loyal to the legitimate royal line, like Reynald, could not countenance this outcome, so while they confirmed Raymond’s regency for the next ten years, they bound it with onerous conditions. These included the unprecedented step of placing all the royal castles under control of the Military Orders and so beyond Raymond’s reach. The most important and revealing clause mandated that the boy-king was not to be entrusted to his regent, but rather to the care of his great-uncle, the seneschal Joscelin of Courtenay. This would protect the young Baldwin V from any harm the regent might dream up. It also maintained the grip of the Courtenay faction on the crown itself. Raymond, however, was granted the valuable fief of Beirut, and at Baldwin V’s crown-wearing ceremony in Jerusalem, the pre-eminence of the count’s faction was driven home when the young king was carried into the Holy Sepulchre on the tall shoulders of Raymond’s closest ally, Balian of Ibelin.
Raymond’s most noteworthy act during his second regency was to negotiate a truce with Saladin. According to Ernoul, this was for four years. If true, this was a surprisingly long truce for the kingdom. Count Raymond is lauded for this agreement by the highly biased Ernoul, who claimed that the ‘Count of Tripoli was much loved and honoured by the people of the land for the truce he made with the Saracens.’
Raymond’s armistice helpfully covered a period of famine in the kingdom, but otherwise it was unfortunately timed for the Franks. At fir
st it gave Saladin a free hand to campaign against his Zengid rivals in Mosul. Then, later in 1185, Saladin became very ill. He lay close to death for months and was not out of danger until spring 1186. His empire suffered the predictable unrest, including widespread strife between Turcoman nomads and the Kurds of Mesopotamia and Anatolia. At a time when they would normally have taken advantage of their enemy’s indisposition to attack his leaderless lands, the Franks looked on impotently, held in check by the truce, or by Raymond’s reluctance to attack, or both. Certainly in the light of Raymond’s later behaviour with Saladin, it is worth raising the question of whether the count negotiated the truce on behalf of the Franks as a whole or with a view to maintaining his own authority for as long as possible; or, indeed, whether he was aware that a truce was in Saladin’s interest.
In the 1962 film of The Manchurian Candidate, a prisoner of war, Raymond Shaw, is brainwashed by his captors during the Korean War. He returns to his country and becomes part of a plot to seize power. All the while he is secretly under the control of the enemy. Away from the realms of movie fiction, it is tempting to wonder just how far Raymond of Tripoli’s long imprisonment affected his attitudes towards the crusaders’ enemies and shaped his views on the future of the Christian states in the Levant. As the modern historian Zoé Oldenbourg wrote:
During his captivity, Raymond had learned other things besides the Holy Scriptures. He loved and understood the Moslem world, and perhaps even admired it.5
Unfortunately, from the point of view of the crusader world, no Manchurian Candidate could have undermined Frankish strength as effectively as Raymond, who would later become – literally – a paid agent of Saladin. We are told that the count ‘performed dishonourable acts to the cost of his own religion, in order to obtain gifts more easily’. And in a startling indication of how far Raymond had moved from the Christian fold, the Muslim historian Imad al-Din claimed that: ‘The zeal of the count for the Muslims only grew, to the point where if he had not feared his co-religionaries, he would have embraced Islam.’6
Another unwanted side-effect of Raymond’s truce, from the Franks’ point of view, was that many crusading knights who had come to fight for the cross had to return home without striking a single blow against the Saracens. This not only wasted the latest crop of eager recruits, but was also damaging to the pipeline of fresh crusaders. Knights in Europe were reluctant to make the long voyage eastwards only to find the Latin states at peace with the heathen.
Safe from Frankish attacks during his illness, instead of suffering a break-up of his empire, Saladin actually saw his power grow. Most significantly, he received the homage of the last Zengid leader, Izz al-Din of Mosul. Izz al-Din promised obedience to Saladin and agreed to send troops for the Holy War when required. This submission confirmed Saladin’s hegemony over Syria and northern Mesopotamia at the same time as his close brush with death reinforced his commitment to the jihad. Imad al-Din wrote of Saladin’s malady: ‘That sickness was sent by God to turn away sins… and to wake him from the sleep of forgetfulness.’7
While Saladin was ill, encouraged by Al-Fadil, he vowed to God that if he recovered he would never attack Muslims again, but would devote himself to the jihad. The sultan also promised once again that if he captured Reynald de Chatillon, he would kill him. The Qadi also got him to add Raymond of Tripoli, for good measure – whether friend or foe, to Saladin, Raymond was expendable. Thanks to the truce, the Franks had missed an opportunity to attack Saladin when he lay sick and helpless. By the time he recovered they were faced with a man who had reached a natural limit to his wars with his own faith and was fervently set on the annihilation of the polytheists.
In the late summer of 1186, while Saladin was still convalescing, the Kingdom of Jerusalem suffered another body blow. The young King Baldwin V died. He was still only eight years old. This brought Raymond’s regency to an end, but the ambitious count was not keen to surrender power. He saw the chance to make a bid for the throne himself. The young king was to be buried in Jerusalem, and his mother Sybilla and her husband Guy went there immediately for the royal funeral. So too, from Kerak, did Reynald de Chatillon. His role was to prove critical to the succession struggle that was about to unfold. Rather than attend the funeral rites at Jerusalem, Raymond summoned a council of the barons in Nablus – a revealing location, as it was the power base of his Ibelin allies. Most of the leading nobles attended. Joscelin, the seneschal, remained on the coast to ensure control of the key port of Acre. He also seized the wealthy port of Beirut from Raymond. Critically, the other great magnate who definitely did not attend Raymond’s council was Prince Reynald. The stage was set for a showdown between Raymond and his long-standing opponents.
Raymond had the majority of the barons on his side. At Nablus he also had Amalric’s second daughter, Isabella, a potential heir to the throne, along with her husband, Humphrey of Toron. Raymond appealed to the web of oaths that the barons had sworn when he became regent. Some of these referred to a vague and unworkable scenario in which the next monarch of Jerusalem would be chosen by the Pope and a triumvirate of the King of England, the King of France and the German emperor. Actually this oath called for the crown to revert to ‘the most rightful heirs’ until such a process could be implemented. In the event, that is what happened. A successor was required immediately, so everyone simply ignored the more complex and unrealistic aspects of their oath, which might only have prolonged Raymond’s regency.
The faction in Jerusalem held the trump cards. The count’s old adversary, Prince Reynald, was one of these. He was the only man with the power, reputation and determination to stand up to Raymond. Patriarch Heraclius was on board as a long-time ally of the Courtenay faction and he provided critical Church support and spiritual authority. Also aligned with Raymond’s opponents was the Master of the Temple, Gerard de Ridefort. Beyond any dynastic disagreements, there was ‘malevolence and great strife’ between Gerard and Raymond. This old feud dated back to the time when Gerard first arrived in Syria. He had been a knight-errant like Reynald and had served the Count of Tripoli as a mercenary. Raymond III had promised young Gerard the hand of the widowed heiress, Stephanie of Botron. But before the marriage could be finalized, a rich Pisan merchant called Plivain offered Raymond the lady’s weight in gold if he could marry her instead. Raymond did not hesitate. He sold the heiress to Plivain. Soon afterwards Gerard joined the Order of the Temple and swore himself to celibacy. He never forgave Raymond, and in this succession dispute he gave full rein to his simmering hatred. Raymond’s opponents also had possession of Jerusalem, the Holy Sepulchre and the royal regalia. Most importantly, they had the best claimant to the throne: the eldest daughter of King Amalric, sister of Baldwin IV and mother of the recently deceased Baldwin V, Princess Sybilla.
With so much at stake, events unfolded at a desperate pace. The barons at Nablus sent a delegation of bishops and nobles to Jerusalem to prevent the coronation of Sybilla. Reynald and his cohorts rejected their arguments. Aware that a military attack could come from Nablus at any time, Sybilla’s supporters shut the gates of Jerusalem. It was a critical moment in the history of the kingdom. There was only a brief window in which to act.
At such a time Reynald de Chatillon could be relied upon to take the decisive step.
Hospital of the Order of St John, Jerusalem, 12 September 1186
The courtyard in St John’s Hospital echoed to the strident sound of voices raised in anger. These were not just lay brothers squabbling. They were three of the most powerful men in Outremer. The Lord of Kerak and the Master of the Temple, Gerard de Ridefort, had found the Master of the Hospitallers, Roger de Moulins, hiding in his headquarters and they were now struggling with him over a key.
Not just any key.
The royal regalia of Jerusalem was kept locked in the trésor of the kingdom. Three keys were needed to open this vault. One was held by the Patriarch of Jerusalem, the second by the Master of the Templars, the third by the Master of the Hospit
allers. Reynald and Gerard were demanding that third key.
The Master of the Hospitallers resisted as best he could, but few men could defy Reynald for any length of time. Thoroughly exasperated, Master Roger gave way and flung his key down into the courtyard. Reynald and Gerard retrieved it and, now with all three keys, proceeded to unlock the trésor and carry the royal crowns to Patriarch Heraclius, who awaited them in the Church of the Sepulchre.
There, in Christendom’s Holy of Holies, glittering with gold in the light of a forest of candles, it was Reynald de Chatillon who took charge.
He rose to speak to the assembly of knights, church and civic leaders crowded into the building. Behind him on the altar sat the two crowns, destined for the next King and Queen of Jerusalem. As he stepped up into the chancel, Prince Reynald, Lord of Oultrejordan, onetime Prince of Antioch, was reaching the apogee of his career.
‘Lords,’ he said, loud and clear, looking down on the congregation, ‘you know well that King Baldwin the Leper and his nephew, whom he had crowned, are dead. The kingdom has been left without an heir and without a ruler. Today, by your acclamation, we would crown Sybilla, who is here, for she is the daughter of King Amalric and sister of King Baldwin the Leper. She is the closest and the most rightful heir to the realm.’
With one voice, the congregation acclaimed Sybilla.
The Patriarch Heraclius solemnly placed the crown upon her head. She was now Queen of Jerusalem. Sybilla turned to her husband Guy, who knelt before her as she set the second crown upon his head.
Reynald de Chatillon was king-maker in Jerusalem in 1186. And his creation was King Guy I.