The Dream And The Tomb: A History Of The Crusades

by Robert Payne

  To celebrate the conquest of Messina, Richard ran up his own flag over the main gate of the city and around the walls, to the discomfiture of King Philip, who had watched the battle from the royal palace in Messina. Had they not formally agreed that all the spoils should be held in common? Richard was reluctant but he decided to order that the French flag be run up beside the flag of England. King Philip felt that the cause of friendship had been served by flying the two flags together.

  Richard distrusted and feared the people of Messina for good cause. How could he make sure that they would never desire to try to avenge themselves? Richard hit on a remarkable expedient. He had brought siege engines with him, and now he erected one of these huge towers with a drawbridge at the very summit close to the walls. This tower, which he called “Mategriffon” (“the Greek-killer”) had a profound psychological effect, for the tower overtopped the walls and appeared to be watching everyone in the city.

  On October 8, two weeks after his arrival in Messina, Richard invited Philip to attend a council of war, which would deal with all matters concerning the Crusade. They swore friendship over holy relics; each army would help the other; both in going and in coming they would defend each other; and they would observe the laws of the Crusade which had never previously been promulgated. There must be no gambling except by knights and clergy, no knight or clerk was permitted to lose more than twenty shillings. If they lost more, they must pay a fine of a hundred shillings. This law did not apply to kings. Sailors, soldiers, and common men, when found gambling, would be whipped naked through the army for three days or thrown into the sea on three consecutive mornings. No one was permitted to hoard goods; no one in the army might buy bread to sell for profit. The price of bread was fixed at a penny a loaf. The price of wine was regulated, profits on all sales must not exceed 10 percent, and there was an express injunction against the purchase of dough. The laws were harsh and probably unenforceable. Richard had amused himself at Chinon before setting out for Vézelay by drawing up a code of laws for his seamen. If a sailor murdered another, he was to be bound to the murdered man and hurled into the sea. If a sailor cursed, swore, or reviled another sailor, he must pay an ounce of silver. A sailor who stole would have his head shaven, boiling pitch would be poured over him, and chicken feathers would be shaken on the pitch, so that he could be recognized for what he was, and at the next port he would be cast ashore. Richard enjoyed punishing.

  By conquering Messina Richard forced Tancred, the King of Sicily, to come to terms over the matter of Joanna’s dowry. They met at Cefalù, a small seaport on the northern coast of Sicily graced with a magnificent cathedral possessing the finest Norman mosaics of the time, and once again there were protestations of friendship. Tancred offered Richard forty thousand ounces of gold, half of this sum to represent the dowry of Joanna and the other half as the dowry of one of Tancred’s daughters, whom he wished betrothed to Arthur, Duke of Brittany. Arthur was the son of Richard’s dead elder brother, Geoffrey, and at this time he was three years old. He had some claim to being heir to the English throne. Tancred seems to have been delighted at the idea of having a future queen of England among his daughters, and he was perhaps even more delighted by the possibility that he could play Richard against Philip and retain his throne, which had seemed only a few days before to be in great danger.

  The long winter was filled with diplomatic maneuvers, alarms and excursions. Richard was busy reorganizing his army, beaching his ships and examining them for dry rot and wormholes, conducting an interminable correspondence with the pope, the various crowned heads of Europe, and his own family. He also arranged to perform penance for certain sins of the flesh in the privacy of the chapel attached to his villa. The archbishops and bishops gathered in Messina were invited to watch the king, barefoot and wearing a simple shift, advance toward the altar, strip off his shift, and kneel before the assembled churchmen, while pleading for God’s mercy in his nakedness. “From that hour forward,” wrote the chronicler Roger of Hoveden, “he became a man and feared God, and abandoned what was evil and did good.”

  Although one may doubt whether there was a true conversion to a life of pure morality, there is no doubt that Richard was, for the first time in his life, turning to the comforts of religion. A certain Joachim of Floris, a preacher of great eloquence and the possessor of prophetic powers, was at this time abbot of the monastery of Corazzo in Calabria. Richard appears to have been fascinated by this visionary. He summoned Joachim to Messina and engaged him in a long discussion, a major portion of which had to do with the coming of the Antichrist. Joachim was sure that the Antichrist would take the form of a pope. Having brought a number of archbishops with him, Richard was able to argue the case in favor of an Antiochene or Babylonian Antichrist. But both felt he was so close that they could feel his breath, and he had to be reckoned with. Richard or Joachim—it is not clear from Roger of Hoveden’s account who is speaking—describes the Antichrist in chilling terms:

  He shall cause persecution in every clime against the Christians and all the elect, and he shall raise himself up against the faithful in three ways—by terror, by gifts and by miracles.

  To those who believe in him he will give abundance of gold and silver; those whom he shall not be able to corrupt by bribes he will conquer with terror; those whom he shall not be able to conquer by terror, he will be able to lead astray by signs and miracles; and those he cannot lead astray by signs and miracles, he will torment, and in the sight of all he will destroy them by a cruel death.

  Then there will come tribulations such as the earth has never seen since the time of the nations, and those who are in the field will flee to the mountains and none shall come down from the mountains into their houses to take what belongs to them.

  Although the tribulations were extreme and most men would perish in them, there was one saving grace: this time of trouble would last exactly three and a half years, and afterward the kingdom of God would be established.

  Richard’s conversation with Joachim of Floris was important because it revealed the apocalyptic strain running through the Crusades. The aim of the Crusade was not only to safeguard the Holy Sepulchre and the holy places but, in the eyes of many who took part in it, the aim was also to hasten the time of the establishment of God’s kingdom on earth. There, at Armageddon, or Antioch, or Babylon, or Jerusalem, the Christians would fight the final battle with the Antichrist and overthrow him. According to Joachim of Floris, speaking in the winter of 1190, a state of perfect blessedness would descend on the earth in about fifteen years, and Richard was expected to play an important role in the conquest of the Antichrist. His immediate task, however, was the conquest of Saladin, the sixth of the seven kings.

  Richard was well aware of his responsibilities, but Joachim’s voice was not the only one he heard. He heard claps of thunder louder and more terrifying than any he had heard in France, saw lightning flashes brighter than any he had ever seen, and he was puzzled and frightened by them. One of his ships was struck by lightning, split apart, and sank to the bottom of the sea. They were signs and portents of the coming war with Saladin and the Antichrist.

  Meanwhile, he attempted to placate his enemies and comfort his friends. He gave the people of Messina a charter, and, from being murderous, became kind to them. On Christmas day, he entertained King Philip at an immense banquet held outside the walls of Messina in the shadow of Mategriffon, the towering siege engine. He gave King Tancred a sword, which he claimed to be the original Excalibur worn by King Arthur of England. He seemed to be mellowing.

  Slow Boat

  to Acre

  THE winter season was coming to an end, but Richard remained in Messina. One of his most important affairs was to attend to the continuity of his line by marrying and having offspring. At the end of February 1191, news came that his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, was in the south of France on her way to Messina, acting as the duenna of Princess Berengaria of Navarre. Berengaria had so charmed Richard when s
he was young that now the king of Navarre had entrusted her to Queen Eleanor to prepare her for marriage.

  The coming of Eleanor and Berengaria to Messina might have presented difficulties. Richard was determined to keep the peace with Philip of France, who meant him to marry Aloysia. Unfortunately for Philip, Aloysia had been sent to the court of Henry II, and there was very little doubt that Henry had used his royal power to seduce the intended bride of his son. There was even some documentary proof of this, or so Richard seemed to believe. Philip was understandably dismayed when he was shown the evidence; but he was now convinced that the Crusade was more important than the fate of his sister, and he issued a proclamation in which he maintained, in the name of the holy and undivided Trinity, that he had no quarrel with Richard over Aloysia and that they had established a firm peace and friendship. Philip set sail for Acre on March 30 and Richard, according to custom, accompanied the French fleet a few miles out to sea.

  A few days later, Queen Eleanor arrived in Messina with the young Spanish princess, and a few days of festivity celebrated their coming. Then Queen Eleanor, having accomplished her mission, left for England, and the princess was given into the care of Joanna, the Dowager Queen of Sicily. It was too late to arrange a marriage ceremony; the fleet was about to sail for the East, and Berengaria and Joanna, with their servants and well-armed guards, were given a ship of their own.

  The fleet sailed out of Messina on April 10. Richard commanded a fleet of over two hundred ships of all sizes, from great men-of-war to cargo vessels, some with sails, some with banks of oars, and some with both sails and oars. We must not imagine that these sailing ships bore any resemblance to the clippers of the Victorian age. The art of sailing was still in its infancy. The admiral of the fleet, Robert of Turnham, gave orders by trumpet and the beating of a great drum, so that any ship out of earshot of the flagship might wind up in trouble. For this reason the ships were bunched together as much as possible.

  They were two days out of Messina when a violent storm sprang up and the ships were scattered. Twenty-five ships were lost without a trace. Richard prayed fervently on the main deck of his war galley; he was still praying when, suddenly, in the middle of the night, the storm abated.

  A week after leaving Messina, he anchored off Crete; there was no sign of the galley bearing his princess. It terrified him that she might have been drowned. The loss of the princess meant also the loss of his treasure, which had been stowed away on her ship. In fact, her ship had been blown far to the south with several other ships, and they were now making their way north.

  Two of these ships were shipwrecked; the survivors reached the shore and were captured near Amathus by the troops of Isaac Comnenus, the self-appointed despot of Cyprus. Some failed to reach the shore and were drowned; among them was Roger Malchen, Richard’s vice-chancellor, who carried the royal seal around his neck. His body and the seal drifted on shore, and Isaac Comnenus soon realized that the ships belonged to Richard’s fleet and that he was in a position to hold the survivors as hostages. He also learned that the third ship contained the princess. He did everything possible to induce the princess and her entourage to step on shore. He was aware that Richard had a very large fleet; it was advisable to have as many hostages as possible.

  He was still sending rowboats out to the princess’s ship, inviting her ashore, when Richard’s fleet suddenly appeared over the horizon. The princess was saved, but Isaac Comnenus had taken many shipwrecked sailors prisoner, and he had taken possession of the treasure that had been washed ashore.

  Richard sent envoys demanding the return of the prisoners and the treasure. When his demand was rejected three times, Richard decided to invade the island. Isaac Comnenus saw the attack coming, quickly threw up a barricade made of logs, beams, chests, and benches, armed his men as best he could, and waited for the attack. Richard was a far better strategist than Isaac Comnenus, and the Anglo-Norman army made a landing without any difficulty, with Richard, armed with an ax, among the first to reach the shore. The barricades were quickly torn down, the bowmen fired their arrows, and then it was the turn of the lancers, swordsmen, and mace-carriers to grapple with an enemy that had no stomach for fighting. In the late afternoon, as dusk was falling, the despot abandoned the city, taking his household troops with him. Richard, entering in triumph, found plentiful supplies of oil, wine, corn, and meat. About five miles away, Isaac Comnenus set up his tents in a thickly forested valley and waited for an opportunity to recapture the city.

  The news that Isaac Comnenus was hiding in a nearby secluded valley was brought to Richard in the middle of the night. Richard decided to destroy Isaac Comnenus’s camp and, if possible, capture him. He very nearly succeeded. There was a quick, bloody battle in the valley, all Isaac Comnenus’s horses, weapons, and treasure were captured, together with his splendid tents and his gold-embroidered battle-standard. The despot leaped naked from his bed and fled into the forest.

  Three days later, there arrived at Limassol a small fleet of well-armed galleys from Acre. On board was Guy of Lusignan, King of Jerusalem, and all his chief nobles. What they wanted, on any conditions whatsoever, was a clear declaration from Richard that he would immediately bring his vast fleet to the sorely pressed Holy Land. Richard demanded that they should all swear fealty to him, and they assented. He promised to bring his fleet to Acre as soon as he had taken care of several important matters.

  The first was the coronation of Berengaria, who was crowned Queen of England in the chapel of the castle of Limassol, with two kings in attendance, all Richard’s officers of state, and half the nobility of the Holy Land. The wedding ceremony was as long, complex, and spectacular as the coronation. There followed the inevitable feast, but as soon as it was over, Richard was on the march again, in search of Isaac Comnenus and the remnants of his army.

  Isaac Comnenus was in Nicosia, building up an army to recapture the city he had lost, hoping that Richard was in too much of a hurry to reach the Holy Land and would not waste time for him.

  Richard, however, wanted to fight him, but the master of the Hospital thought there were advantages in making him an ally. The master was so insistent that Richard finally agreed to a meeting with Isaac Comnenus on a field near Limassol. There he confronted Isaac Comnenus with an ultimatum. If he behaved well, the island and all its fortresses would be restored to him. But he must first convince Richard of his good intentions by swearing fealty and by sending five hundred of his knights to the Holy Land under Richard’s command. In addition, he must place all his castles and fortresses on the island of Cyprus at the king’s disposition and pay an indemnity of 3,500 marks for the men who had been plundered when they were shipwrecked on the island. Isaac Comnenus agreed to all this, feeling sure that Richard would soon leave and everything would be restored to him. Richard returned to him the ornamental tent that had been captured during the night foray and gave him the kiss of peace.

  The meeting came to naught. Isaac Comnenus fled to Famagusta, fearing that Richard would arrest him; he hoped that he could build up a large enough army to keep Richard at bay. Guy of Lusignan, King of Jerusalem, was placed in charge of the expeditionary force sent to hunt him down; Richard made his way to Famagusta by sea. Isaac Comnenus had vanished. There were thick forests nearby; the pathways were known to the Greeks; there were many castles where the despot might have taken refuge.

  Richard was sitting in a tent on the seashore at Famagusta when he saw a ship arriving from the east. When it came closer, he saw that it carried the flag of the Kingdom of Jerusalem: five black crosses on a white ground. On board were envoys from King Philip of France. Troops were needed for the siege of Acre, Philip’s messengers complained; why was Richard wasting his time in Cyprus? King Philip had already been in the camp outside Acre for a month, waiting for Richard. How many more months would he have to wait? Richard, who was not accustomed to anyone making peremptory demands on him, flew into a rage. He announced that the capture of Cyprus was necessary for the def
ense of the Holy Land, and they were fools who thought otherwise. He sent them away and turned his attention to Nicosia, where, according to his spies, Isaac Comnenus was mounting a large army. The spies also said Isaac was hoping Richard would march on Nicosia and fall into an ambush prepared for him somewhere along the road. Richard was pleased. It meant that there would be a battle, perhaps the one that would put an end to Isaac. So they marched out of Famagusta in battle order, with Richard in the rear, to guard against the ambush promised by the spies.

  There was no battle: only a series of skirmishes, intended to harass the army. Once Isaac Comnenus drew close enough to Richard to fire poisoned arrows at him. They did no harm, glancing off his armor; but when Richard discovered that the arrows had poisoned tips, his anger blazed up again, he dug his spurs into his horse, and went in pursuit. Isaac Comnenus had the fastest horse in Cyprus, a bay called Fauvel, which “bore him away with the swiftness of a stag straight to the castle of Kantara.” Wisely, Richard reined in his horse, returned to his army, and set out for Nicosia.

  There the people came out to meet him and to acknowledge him as their new sovereign lord, and he ordered the Greek nobles to shave off their beards as a sign that they were under a new dispensation. Isaac Comnenus, infuriated by the capture of Nicosia and by the order that everyone be beardless, tortured the few Anglo-Normans who fell into his hands, mutilating them, plucking out their eyes, or cutting off their noses.