The Crusades 1095-1197

by Jonathan Phillips

  The capture of Alexandria

  Shirkuh marched towards Cairo, but in March 1167 he moved south and was followed by the Franks. On 18 March the two armies met in battle at Beben, about 270 kilometres south of Cairo, and both sides inflicted losses on the other, although Shirkuh recovered quicker and regrouped to head north to Alexandria. The city surrendered to him immediately which compelled Amalric to follow him northwards and to begin a siege. Shirkuh soon withdrew and left his young nephew, Saladin, in charge of the defence of the city. Meanwhile a Pisan fleet joined the Franks. Ten galleys, a siege tower and various catapults intensified the blockade and the defenders seemed to be on the point of capitulating. Shirkuh reappeared with a relief force and the two sides began to negotiate a truce. In August Amalric and Shirkuh both agreed to withdraw from Egypt (thus the Franks fulfilled their arrangement with Shawar), with the treaty being triggered by the surrender of Alexandria to the Franks: Amalric’s standard flew from the Pharaohs lighthouse. Although, in accordance with the treaty, the Christians soon returned to Jerusalem, the very fact that Amalric — however briefly — had held one of the great cities of the Islamic world testified to the Franks’ military strength and the feasibility of their aim to exert some sort of power over Egypt. Such an episode would seem to indicate a full recovery from the disaster of the Second Crusade and showed that, regardless of the growing strength of his opponents, Amalric was an imaginative and resourceful leader. As the Franks left Egypt in the early autumn of 1167 it must also be remembered that there was still the possibility of a new crusade from the West and, as we will see now, the prospect of even closer relations with the Greeks.

  On 29 August 1167 Amalric married Maria, a niece of Emperor Manuel, in a splendid ceremony at Tyre cathedral. It is likely that the envoys who arranged this union had raised the possibility of Byzantine support for another invasion of Egypt. The Greeks also realised how vulnerable Egypt had become and it was suggested that the two Christian powers should share the kingdom if it were conquered. This solution would have guaranteed the military backing that Amalric needed and, with Greek input to bolster his own limited resources, it became feasible for the king to consider exercising authority of a more permanent nature there. For the Byzantines there emerged the possibility of greater wealth and also the chance to reclaim a part of their former empire. But as the Frankish envoys (who included William of Tyre) finalised this agreement with Manuel, Amalric invaded Egypt again. This appears a perplexing move. Some said that he was responding to allegations that Shawar was attempting to escape the previous year’s treaty with the Franks by allying with Nur ad-Din, others asserted that the Hospitallers lay behind this sudden aggression on account of their financial troubles (see above, p. 59).

  In October 1168, again with Pisan support, Amalric set out for Egypt. On 3 November he brutally sacked the northern city of Bilbais and, as promised, gave it to the Hospitallers. The atrocities at Bilbais alienated Shawar who (whether or not he had been negotiating with them earlier) sent to Nur ad-Din and Shirkuh for help. In the meantime the Franks advanced to Cairo where Shawar’s offer to pay them huge sums of money caused their invasion to stall outside the city. As the Franks awaited payment, Shirkuh approached. Amalric marched northwards in a vain attempt to intercept him, but when this failed Shirkuh was free to take up a position outside Cairo. Amalric saw the futility of remaining in Egypt and, on 2 January 1169, withdrew to his own lands. Within a month Shawar was assassinated and Shirkuh seized Egypt. The threat to the Franks from the south, the danger to their shipping from Muslim naval squadrons and the immense resources of the land that had, in part, helped the Franks over recent years, had all fallen to their enemies. William of Tyre noted that Nur ad-Din ‘could effectively shut in the realm and blockade all coastal cities by land and sea. . . . Still more to be dreaded was the fact that he could hinder the passage of pilgrims on their way to us’ (William of Tyre, tr. Babcock and Krey, 1943: 2. 360).

  The mission of Archbishop Frederick of Tyre

  In light of this new crisis in the Holy Land a further embassy was sent to the West. It was led by Archbishop Frederick of Tyre, the most senior churchman yet to travel to Europe on such a mission. Thus, as the situation in the Levant worsened, we see the settlers using envoys of increasing status to present their case. Letters were addressed to all the leaders of western Europe and Frederick visited the pope in the summer of 1169. These letters emphasised the danger to pilgrims — something of concern to all in the West — and highlighted the threat to the holy places and the suffering of the Christians in the East. Amalric noted the family ties between the settlers and their co-religionists in the West and stressed his personal concern for the welfare of pilgrims. In response to Frederick’s appearance and the letters that he carried, Pope Alexander issued a new crusade bull, Inter omnia, on 29 July 1169. The bull urged people to crusade in person, rather than simply sending money. Alexander observed that with the union of Egypt and Syria the fate of the Latin East lay in the balance and immediate action was needed.

  The main objectives of Frederick of Tyre’s mission were Louis VII of France and Henry II of England. The reasons why the French monarch was a target for the settlers have been discussed earlier (see pp. 73-4, 96), although on this occasion they resorted to a particularly sophisticated device to try to induce him to respond. Frederick offered the king the keys to the walled city of Jerusalem. The symbolism of this act would have been plain to Louis: the last time that a similar presentation took place was in 800 when a delegation from Jerusalem had given the keys of the city to Emperor Charlemagne. The Christians of the time looked to Charlemagne as the protector of Jerusalem and in 1169 Amalric was hoping that Louis would take on a similar role. The king and his advisors had chosen to replicate the offer of 800 because Louis and his Capetian court harked back to the heritage of Charlemagne as the greatest Christian ruler of Europe and were keen to associate themselves with his image in order to boost their own standing. For example, Charlemagne’s banner, the oriflamme, was kept in the abbey of Saint Denis, a church intimately linked with the Capetians and a place where the Carolingian tradition was preserved and nurtured. We also saw earlier that the crusading window of 1147 included an image of Charlemagne (see above, p. 66). With the offer made by the Frankish embassy in 1169 Louis was being given the chance to emphasise further his ties with the Carolingians while the settlers would gain an important lever in their attempts to secure outside help. In the event, Louis declined the proposal although he professed a willingness to act if the dissension between England and France could be resolved.

  Henry II ruled England and much of France. His crusading pedigree was impressive too: his ancestors included Robert Curthose, duke of Normandy, one of the heroes of the First Crusade, and his grandfather, Count Fulk V of Anjou had become king of Jerusalem in 1131. Amalric was, therefore, Henry II’s uncle. There had been rumours of Henry’s interest in the crusade prior to 1169, but the ferocity of his dispute with Thomas Becket, as well as simmering tensions with France, barred any progress. In the months before Frederick reached the West there had been a serious effort to resolve these issues and the need to help defend the Holy Land was often advanced as a prime reason for this. A contemporary lamented, ‘What will the expedition to Jerusalem profit if peace is not first restored to the Church?’ (John of Salisbury, 1979: 2. 632-3). Might not Archbishop Frederick’s news of Nur ad-Din’s capture of Egypt provide further impetus to this process?

  Frederick became closely involved in the diplomacy of the time and in July 1170 he was present when Henry and Louis settled some of their differences and also when the king of England and Archbishop Thomas made their peace. Contemporaries record the crusade as being a central part of these discussions; Frederick seemed on the verge of a major success and the settlers appeared poised to get the crusade they had so hoped for over recent years. Unfortunately for the Franks, and for reasons outside Frederick’s control, the political situation in the West turned against them. The
problems between Henry and Thomas resurfaced and culminated in the archbishop’s murder at Canterbury Cathedral on 29 December 1170 by knights acting at the king’s behest. Condemnation of Henry was universal and any hopes of a crusade evaporated. ‘There is a case for adding a lost crusade to the legacy of the archbishop’s murder’ (Phillips, 1996: 204), and Frederick was forced to return to the East, discontented and with nothing to show for his efforts.

  King Amalric’s embassy to Constantinople (1171)

  In early October 1169 a Byzantine fleet of 150 galleys, sixty horse transports and twelve large supply ships reached Acre. The Franks and the Greeks besieged Damietta on the northern Egyptian coastline, but the Christians were forced to withdraw. The promise of a Frankish-Byzantine alliance had accomplished little, although the relationship between the two powers was soon to develop further. After a year of relative peace, once more occasioned by a series of massive earthquakes, the Franks decided, yet again, to renew their quest for outside support. William of Tyre described a dramatic scene at the High Court in Jerusalem (see Document 15 i). Many of the nobles advocated the customary mission to the West. Others, including Amalric himself, observed that this had yielded little of worth, while, on the contrary, events at Damietta demonstrated that the Byzantines were prepared to commit substantial military resources to the Eastern Mediterranean. The pro-Byzantinists noted that Manuel ‘was much nearer to us [than the western Europeans], and besides far richer than the others and he could [thus] furnish the desired aid’. As the court debated who should be sent to the emperor, Amalric took the initiative and made a startling and controversial move. He claimed that no one other than he could undertake a mission of such gravity. In spite of protests the king was unmoved: ‘I am determined to go; no one can induce me to recall that decision’ (William of Tyre, tr. Babcock and Krey, 1943: 2. 377-8). We have seen how, in the aftermath of the Second Crusade, King Baldwin III had edged closer to the Greeks via a series of marriage ties, diplomatic manoeuvres and military cooperation. But through his willingness to travel to Constantinople in person Amalric was undertaking a journey that no previous king of Jerusalem had ever set out on. His purpose was plainly of the highest importance, yet, intriguingly, our main source for these events, William of Tyre, was silent on the nature of any agreements made between Amalric and Manuel. He provides a wonderfully vivid description of the splendours of Constantinople and the etiquette of the imperial court, but little more. A contemporary Greek source, John Kinnamos, offers the most likely explanation for William’s reticence. John wrote that Amalric obtained many things that he sought, ‘including his subjection to the emperor’ (John Kinnamos, tr. Brand, 1976: 209). In other words, Amalric had acknowledged the overlordship of the Byzantine ruler — a reflection of the king’s desperate need for help, the failure of the West to provide adequate support and the need to confront the threat of Nur ad-Din. William was probably reluctant to reveal this directly because his principal purpose in writing was to convince the people of the West that the settlers were worthy of help, but at the time he was doing the bulk of his writing (the 1180s), relations with the Greeks had become very hostile and, notwithstanding the earlier positive relations between Manuel and the settlers, William regarded it as imprudent to draw attention to Amalric’s subjection to the emperor.

  Alongside this dramatic development the king made two further attempts to secure help. First, he sent an embassy to the West in 1171, although this appeared to make little impact. Secondly, and in another example of Amalric’s breadth of vision in seeking assistance, he tried to establish a rapprochement with the Muslim sect known (even in the twelfth century) as the Assassins. This group lived in their fortresses in the mountains to the west of the Orontes valley. Their fearsome reputation was based upon their ability to murder those who crossed their path, be they Muslim or Christian. The Assassins were Shi’i Muslims which set them apart from the majority in Syria who were Sunnis. Even within the Shi’is the Assassins were a splinter group who believed that the true Imam (head of the Islamic community) included the seventh Imam, Ismail, who had been disinherited from the line in the eighth century. In the 1090s supporters of his claim returned to prominence in the Alamut mountains of Persia and a group of these believers settled in the Levant, led by the charismatic ‘Old Man of the Mountains’, a near-legendary figure shrouded in tales of intrigue and death. The Assassins’ status as Shi’is left them open to persecution by Sunnis such as Nur ad-Din, who sought to uphold orthodoxy. But the Assassins, whose name probably derived from the hashish (marijuana) they were said to use, had sufficient numbers to survive in their communities, based around the castles of Masyaf and Qadmus. They were also strong enough to resist the Franks, who soon learned to tolerate them if they paid regular tribute to the local lords and landowners, including the military orders. It seems that in 1171, with Nur ad-Din posing an increasing threat to their safety, the Assassins felt the need to seek closer relations with the Franks. One report mentioned that The Old Man of the Mountains suggested his sect would convert to Christianity if the Templars remitted the payment owed to them, but the order ruined this plan by killing the Assassin envoys. Nevertheless, the fact that Amalric was interested to pursue this project shows his flexibility in gathering outside assistance.

  Meanwhile, back in western Europe, there emerged the possibility of Henry II taking the cross after all. His absolution for the murder of Thomas Becket required him to provide 200 knights a year to serve with the Templars and that he should take the cross for three years departing before Easter 1173. Henry sent 2,000 silver marks per annum to the Levant (further reference to this money will be made later) and it appears that he had finally made a binding commitment to travel to the East. The king made various political and diplomatic moves that indicated that he was placing his affairs in order prior to departing for the Holy Land. Yet again, however, events in the West would break the settlers’ hopes. A rebellion by Henry’s heir, Henry the Younger, was supported by his brothers and encouraged by Louis VII of France. An uprising of this seriousness meant that there was no question of Henry leaving Europe and so the planned crusade collapsed. The king felt obliged to write to Amalric to explain the situation himself. For Henry to feel that he had to write such a letter shows clearly that Amalric expected him to arrive in the near future and demonstrates the seriousness of Henry’s intentions. This may be amplified further by noting the king’s remorse at Thomas Becket’s murder and the fact that the crusade formed part of his penance. Although some contemporaries had earlier expressed scepticism about his commitment to the crusade, the king would have been playing an extraordinarily dangerous game in 1173 if he had raised such expectations so high in Jerusalem; only a turn of events of the magnitude of a revolt could justify Henry not fulfilling his penance. A further mission from Jerusalem arrived in late 1173 to try to secure peace in the West. Pope Alexander granted the bishop of Lydda the status of papal legate (another new development in the settlers’ diplomacy) and issued letters to try to facilitate peace between Henry and Louis, but to little avail.

  The year 1174 was to see the deaths of both Amalric and Nur ad-Din. The Muslim leadership had recently experienced some serious divisions and the king was determined to exploit them. Saladin had grown increasingly autonomous in his government of Egypt (he had taken over after the death of Shirkuh in 1169), and had declined to join Nur ad-Din in an attack on Kerak in 1173. Two years previously Saladin had deposed the Shi’i caliph and had the name of the Sunni caliph of Baghdad inserted into public prayers. This was a major advance for Nur ad-Din as the champion of Sunni orthodoxy, although, unsurprisingly, it provoked some opposition and plotting against Saladin’s rule from discontented Shi’i factions. In light of these circumstances Amalric decided to plan another attack on Egypt and this time he secured help from the Sicilians. King William II had been among the targets of the embassies of 1169 and 1171 and, like the Italian seafaring cities, he could offer naval support. The Franks’ prospects increased
further in May 1174 when Nur ad-Din suffered a heart attack and died. William of Tyre described him as ‘a just prince, valiant, wise . . . and far seeing’ (William of Tyre, tr. Babcock and Krey, 1943: 2. 394). Muslim sources lamented the passing of their great leader. Ibn al-Athir, an Aleppan writer of the early thirteenth century, praised his military skills, his public works, his honour for men of religion, and his great personal humility. Justice and piety were the hallmarks of Nur ad-Din’s rule, but his greatest achievements were to unify Muslim Syria and Egypt and to provide the jihad with a real momentum which posed the settlers by far their greatest test to date.

  With the Muslim empire leaderless in Syria, with Egypt seemingly unstable and a Sicilian fleet at sea, Amalric’s prospects appeared bright. Fate was not to favour the settlers, however. On 11 July, aged only 38, the king succumbed to a violent attack of dysentery. William of Tyre described him as ‘a man of wisdom and discretion, fully competent to hold the reins of government in the kingdom’ (William of Tyre, tr. Babcock and Krey, 1943: 2. 396). Amalric had proven an energetic ruler who developed a strong hold over his nobles and had done much to counter the menace posed by Nur ad-Din. His successor was Baldwin IV, a 13 year-old afflicted with leprosy, and it was to be his need for a regent and the search for a successor that created many of the tensions that eventually made the kingdom so vulnerable to Saladin.