God's Wolf

by Jeffrey Lee

  For the Franks, the portents of 1187 had not been good. As Saladin prepared his war there were prophecies of famine, earthquake and doom.6 Meanwhile the kingdom was as divided as ever; its greatest vassal was in league with the enemy, and Saladin’s ‘knights, sergeants and bowman’ still occupied Tiberias. Saladin had promised Raymond that if Guy ‘attacked in the morning, rescue would come by evening. If he was attacked in the evening, he would be rescued in the morning.’ Under the protection of the sultan, Raymond remained in flagrant rebellion against the king. It was as though the Franks had a death wish, as Ibn al-Athir recorded:

  Thus their unity was disrupted and their cohesion broken. This was one of the most important factors that brought about the conquest of their territories and the liberation of Jerusalem.7

  All too aware of the Franks’ divided state, Saladin mustered troops from all parts of his empire to fight the jihad. They came from Mosul, Harran, Edessa, Irbil and from all over Syria and Egypt. There were siege engineers from distant Khorasan and fervent volunteers from as far afield as Morocco. But it was not until after Easter and the expiry of the truce that Saladin moved into Frankish territory. In April 1187, the sultan’s first attack was again aimed at his worst enemy. He moved his troops down into Oultrejordan and ravaged the lands around Kerak, cutting down ‘crops, vines and olive trees’. The lion was yet again forcing the wolf back into his lair.

  Meanwhile Saladin sent raiding parties into the kingdom, passing through the lands of his ally, Count Raymond, around Tiberias. Now Raymond’s treachery went beyond undermining Frankish unity and had direct and devastating military impact. Fatally, he gave permission to Saladin’s general, Kukburi, to lead a raid deep into Frankish territory. ‘These troops left in the dead of night, sneaking through the gloom’ and the count allowed them to pass unhindered through his fief of Galilee. But Galilee, as the frontier province, was normally the first barrier against Muslim incursion. The Frankish lands behind Galilee were unprepared for an attack. On 1 May 1187, when the Masters of the Temple and Hospital, who were at the nearby Templar fort of La Fève, heard that the Saracens had entered the kingdom and were ravaging the lands around Nazareth, they gathered all the knights they could find and marched to repel the invaders.

  It was a potent strike force – about eighty Templars, ten Hospitallers and forty knights from the royal garrison at Nazareth. Near the wells of Cresson, they came upon the Saracens. The Muslim army was many times larger, perhaps 7,000 horse. According to Ibn al-Athir, the ensuing battle was one ‘fit to turn black hair grey’. When the Marshal of the Temple, Jacques de Mailly, hesitated before charging the massed Turkish cavalry, his Master, Gerard de Ridefort, taunted him that he loved his blond locks too much to risk them. Jacques joined the other knights in a ferocious attack. The outnumbered Franks were all but annihilated, and Jacques de Mailly was beheaded. The Master of the Hospitallers was killed and all the royal knights captured. Only the badly wounded Master of the Temple and two other knights escaped. The Saracen raiders rode back across the Jordan dragging lines of yoked prisoners. The heads of the Frankish knights they skewered on their spear tips. The people of Tiberias could see their friends’ heads bobbing on the Saracen lances as they passed.

  The Muslims well understood the significance of the battle: Saladin rejoiced in the victory, which had dealt a body blow to the fighting strength of the kingdom. The Franks had lost an experienced senior commander in Roger de Moulins, and around 10 per cent of their knights – all of them among the best trained and most effective. ‘It was a great triumph,’ wrote Ibn al-Athir, ‘for the Templars and the Hospitallers are the Franks’ firebrands.’8

  As soon as he heard of the victory at Cresson, Saladin raised the siege of Kerak and moved north to join the rest of his army, camped close to the Jordan River. It was an impressive host. Saladin had gathered chieftains and their warriors from all over the Near East. Imad al-Din was amazed. He had never seen such a powerful, well-armed force, ‘so menacing for the infidels and so numerous’.9 It was:

  An imposing entourage of illustrious chiefs, in the middle of a massive, well-equipped army, a legion of invincible lions… our camp stretched for several leagues in all directions, covering the hills and plains.10

  Around 26 June 1187, Saladin led this monstrous force across the Jordan and into crusader territory at the south end of the Sea of Galilee. Imad al-Din described how ‘The army, like the ocean, enveloped the Lake of Tiberias, and the vast plains disappeared under the unfolding tents.’11

  Guy and Raymond had to settle their differences or the kingdom faced certain destruction. The pro-Raymond Frankish sources claim that King Guy reconsidered and decided to make his peace with Raymond. Islamic historians reveal the real reasons behind the rapprochement: Raymond had gone too far and had alienated many of his supporters. They resented the alliance with Saladin, and blamed Raymond for the disaster at Cresson.* The king sent a high-level delegation from Jerusalem to Tiberias and censured Raymond for his actions. ‘There is no doubt that you have become a Muslim,’ the delegation said, ‘otherwise you could not have endured what the Muslims did to the Templars and Hospitallers recently.’12 Raymond’s vassals agreed with the royal embassy, warning the count that they would throw off their allegiance unless he renounced his deal with Saladin. At the same time the patriarch threatened to excommunicate Raymond and annul his marriage. This was a potent threat – Raymond was only Prince of Galilee through his wife. Annulment would cost him his fief. ‘When the Count saw the seriousness of his position,’ the Muslim sources tell us, ‘he was fearful, made excuses, renounced [his recent course] and repented.’13

  Raymond offered his homage to King Guy. With the kingdom preparing to weather another great Saracen storm, Guy needed all his fighting strength. He was obliged to accept Raymond’s apology. At a staged and, no doubt, stilted ceremony near the castle of St Job, he received Raymond’s fealty and gave him the symbolic kiss of peace. In theory the kingdom’s great powers were now reconciled, but the public agreement only papered over the bitter divisions. The wounds of the succession battle were still fresh and the feud between the main factions, based on resentments old and new, still ran deep. Reynald de Chatillon, for one, was not convinced by Raymond’s show of remorse.

  While Saladin’s forces gathered, the Christian army mustered at Sephora as usual. The king issued the arrière ban, calling up all available men. He recruited visiting crusaders and hired as many mercenaries as he could. Those Templars and Hospitallers who had not been present at Cresson arrived in full strength, along with a contingent of knights from Antioch. The newly reconciled Count Raymond and his knights from Tripoli and Galilee were there, too. The True Cross trundled to Sephora from Jerusalem. Castles all over the land were emptied of their garrisons as the Franks assembled the biggest army in the history of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. This force offered a daunting challenge to their Muslim foes. ‘Their flags fluttered in ranks,’ wrote Imad al-Din, who accompanied Saladin on this campaign, ‘their banners deployed on the walls of Sephora, knights and infantry, lancers and archers assembled in great numbers.’14

  This army was paid for by treasure provided by Henry II of England, rather than by an income tax. He had donated the gold to help assuage his guilty conscience over the murder of his erstwhile friend and turbulent Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket. The fund was meant to cover Henry’s costs if and when he came on crusade, but the kingdom’s leaders judged that it was needed immediately.

  Once again Guy de Lusignan was in charge of a mighty host, a colossal 1,200 knights and perhaps 18,000 infantry. Again he needed to overcome doubts, divisions and discord. The two great antagonists, Reynald and Raymond, still led their two hostile factions, and their differences threatened to crystallize at a time of utmost peril for the entire crusader venture in the East.

  King Guy would have to find a way for them to work together, or even this great army risked disaster.

  * Attempting to exculpate Raymond, Ernoul sp
un a convoluted yarn about the battle of Cresson. Effectively he said the Muslim cavalry were on a peaceful sightseeing day-trip through Frankish territory and, if the foolish Templars had let them pass, everything would have been fine. Bizarrely, many historians have accepted this fable.

  Wells of Sephora, Galilee, late June 1187

  In the close summer night the encampment of the great Frankish army around Sephora sweated in a state of paralysis beneath the stars. Around them Saladin’s hordes roamed unchecked, plundering and burning across Galilee. As night fell, the crusaders looked out on apocalyptic vision. All the countryside was aflame, ‘like a sea of fire’.

  In the great brocaded tent of King Guy the arguments raged. Reynald, as ever, was at the centre of the storm. He was probably now in his sixties, and most men of his generation were dead or decrepit. Not Reynald. Endowed with an iron constitution and a vigorous mind, the prince had not lost his leadership skills. He was still the insatiable, aggressive man of action. A lifetime of warfare had left him in no doubt as to what strategy should be adopted.

  He urged Guy to seize the initiative and attack. Supported by the Master of the Temple and many others, Reynald counselled the king that he should not make the mistake he had made in 1183, sitting idly while Saladin ravaged and pillaged with impunity. Guy was new to the throne. He had to establish his authority.

  Reynald’s advice was simple: ‘Chase Saladin from the realm,’ he told the king, ‘or your kingdom is lost.’

  Predictably, the newly reconciled Raymond of Tripoli disagreed. As he had in 1183, when he undermined Guy’s regency, he suggested a defensive strategy.

  ‘Sire,’ he said, ‘I advise that you provide your cities and your castles with men, arms, provisions and anything else that is necessary… Once the heat of the summer has tired out Saladin’s forces, we will fall on the rearguard of his army and inflict such damage that, if God pleases, the realm will enjoy complete peace.’

  But Raymond’s rivals had not forgotten, or forgiven, his pact with Saladin. And Reynald perhaps remembered even further back; his doubts about Raymond’s sympathies may have arisen long before, in the prison pits under the white citadel of Aleppo. You can almost hear the snarl in Reynald’s voice down the ages as he turned on Raymond: ‘You can stop trying to make us frightened of the Muslims. There is no doubt that you are on their side and favour them, otherwise you would not have said this.’

  Along with the Master of the Temple, whose old dislike of Raymond had become a burning hatred since the slaughter of his Templar brothers at Cresson, Reynald dismissed the count’s advice as the words of Saladin in disguise.

  ‘This counsel,’ Prince Reynald said, ‘is mixed with the hair of the wolf.’

  ‘Tiberias is already as good as lost,’ Raymond pleaded with the king. ‘You must not move from here. Saladin has too many men.’

  Reynald scoffed at this. The victor of Mont Gisard had no fear of superior numbers.

  ‘They are indeed many,’ he said, ‘but the fire is not daunted by the size of the wood pile.’15

  Chapter 20

  APOCALYPSE

  About two years later, I passed by the site of the battle and saw the ground covered with their bones, visible from afar, some of them heaped up and others scattered about and this was apart from those that torrents had swept away or wild beasts in those thickets and hollows had taken.

  Ibn al-Athir1

  The arguments for an immediate attack were forceful. It might have appeared a riskier option, especially for the normally cautious Franks, but there was much to be said for it. The crusader army would have to face a numberless enemy, yes, but it had triumphed over great odds before. A bold strike might even inspire the host to valiant deeds. An attack could seize the initiative, win over Guy’s doubters and perhaps even weld together the disparate factions in his army. And Saladin’s men were not invincible. They had their fears and their doubts. Their army had its factions and its weaknesses. As Baha al-Din recorded, Saladin’s nervous host was far from believing that an easy victory was at hand:

  The Muslims were well aware that behind them was the Jordan and before them enemy territory and that there was nothing to save them but God Almighty.2

  But as the councils succeeded one another at Sephora, Guy paid heed to Count Raymond’s advice. The king waited. This was a hard strategy for Guy to carry off. It might have been tempting to wait at his safe, well-watered base until Saladin withdrew, but, as Prince Reynald and the Master of the Temple had reminded him, Guy was under great pressure to act. Even if his inaction at the wells of Tubaniya four years before had been militarily excusable, it had been a political disaster so seismic that it had cost him the regency. As a new king, a repeat fiasco would leave him irrevocably weakened. Furthermore, this great army had been hired at vast cost, emptying the coffers of the kingdom, including the hoard supplied by Henry of England. Not to exploit such a host would be a sin.

  While he hesitated, Saladin’s men ravaged the countryside, burning crops, sacking villages and looting the great monastery on Mount Tabor. For a week the Franks watched patiently from their base, immobile under their tents. Then Saladin forced Guy’s hand. On 2 July 1187, the sultan took the risk of splitting his army. He led a substantial force to besiege Tiberias. This might have been the best opportunity for the Franks to engage the invaders in a pitched battle – Reynald had exploited such a dispersed force to defeat Saladin in 1177 – but the sultan had judged his current opponent well. Guy and his army were rooted in their reactive strategy.

  If Tiberias held out, the Franks still had a number of options, including the tempting prospect of pinning the besieging force against the town. But, shockingly, within just an hour of the first, ferocious assault, Tiberias fell. Despite ample warning, and despite his own recommended strategy of defending the fortified places, Raymond had pitifully failed to garrison the city. It did not help that the Muslim forces knew its defences intimately. Thanks to Raymond’s alliance with Saladin, they had manned the walls of Tiberias until just a few weeks before. The same troops now turned on their erstwhile allies and sacked the town without mercy, killing, pillaging and enslaving. Raymond’s wife and children held out in the citadel. They sent the news to the king, just fifteen miles away at Sephora, begging for relief. The rank and file of the crusader army were infuriated by the news and cried out for the host to ‘go and rescue the ladies of Tiberias’.3

  The story given in some of the sources is that, despite the pleas of his family and the destruction of his fief, Raymond argued against going to the relief of Tiberias. It is hard to believe that any leader in that position, let alone a knight like Raymond, would abandon his family and his vassals to annihilation or enslavement. Other sources paint a more likely picture, with the Latin Continuation of William of Tyre recording that Count Raymond begged the king to go to the aid of his city.

  With Tiberias captured and its citadel besieged, King Guy could no longer remain inert. Finally the trumpets sounded and the great crusader army heaved into motion around the True Cross. It was an awesome sight to their Muslim foes. The Frankish host was like a range of mountains on the move, a succession of billowing waves of shining steel and coloured banners, with the holy, golden cross shining at its centre. But Guy had not decided on attack. He had chosen a third option – a fighting march to the relief of Tiberias. Presumably Reynald would have supported this option over complete passivity, but it was still not the pitched battle that he had argued for from the beginning of Saladin’s invasion. By waiting until Saladin had captured Tiberias, the Franks had handed him a great prize, a boost in morale and the initiative. Saladin had chosen the battleground.

  The marching battle was one the crusaders employed successfully on many occasions. The tactic gave the Franks the option of engaging directly, if the chance arose. If it did not, they could simply carry on marching. The typical formation was for the infantry and archers to form a protective curtain around their most potent weapon, the mounted knights. The cru
saders proved time and again that, if they maintained this formation, the Muslims could not beat them. They could march all day under the rain of arrows from the Turkish horse archers. The Frankish coats of mail were superior to the Muslim armour and were worn doubled, by those who could afford it. Inside, they were padded with thick jerkins. The crusaders would be so peppered with arrows after a day’s march that they were often described as ‘hedgehogs’.

  Baldwin III had marched for days across the bare desert during his retreat from Bosra in 1147. On that occasion the host had also been tortured by thirst and by the attacks of a far more numerous Muslim army. Under the undisputed leadership of King Baldwin, the Franks had held together and survived. In 1191, Richard the Lionheart would fight marching battles day after day against Saladin during the Third Crusade, with notable success.

  Through the sweltering 3 July the tactic proved itself again. Amidst clouds of dust and a constant storm of arrows that darkened the sky, the Franks marched steadily towards Tiberias. Despite the heat and Saladin’s vast host, the Franks were able to beat off any number of Muslim attacks, to the great frustration of their enemies, as the eyewitness Imad al-Din reported:

  The burning heat of the dog days beat down on these men encased in steel. The blazing sky inflamed their fury. One after another the cavalry sorties succeeded each other amid the shimmering haze of heat… Despite the terrible thirst that devoured them, they remained patient, stoic, arrogant, persisting in their attacks like dogs4

  After some hard fighting, rather than directly attacking the Saracens or pressing on to the lake and the relief of Tiberias, Guy called a halt. The Franks made camp by the hamlet of Meskanah.5 It lay on the barren plain below the Horns of Hattin, a bare, rocky outcrop with two low summits on either side of a saddle. The Estoire d’Eracles says the decision to stop was made on the advice of the Count of Tripoli. ‘The king accepted this advice, but it was bad advice. If the Christians had pressed home the attack, they would have defeated the Turks.’6