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THE FLAME OF ISLAM

OTHER BOOKS BY

HAROLD LAMB

THE CRUSADES;

Iron Mm and Saintf

GENGHIS KHAN

TAMERLANE

HOUSE OF THE FALCON

MARCHING SANDS

WHITE FALCON

BLESSING THE SWORDS OF THE CRUSADERS

FROM THE PAINTING BY GEORGES CLAIKIN

THE CRUSADE

Jflame of Mam

SALADIN, THE VICTORY BRINGER;

BAIBARS, THE PANTHER; RICHARD THE LION HEART;

SAINT LOUIS; BARBAROSSA

BY HAROLD LAMB

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS

DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY, INC.

GARDEN CITY iHC^WXX3C3 NEW YORK

Country Life Prfss, GARDEN CITY, N. Y., u. s, A.

BY HAROLD LAMB

FIRST EDITION

AUTHOR S NOTE

THIS BOOK is complete in itself. It tells the story of the first

Christian kingdom in the Moslem world, until its overthrow.

We are apt, all of us, to think of the crusades as a series of

armies marching to war in the East. The reality is otherwise.

Two separate movements made up the crusades. First the

conquest, the invasion of the East by our forefathers who

founded a kingdom there. With this movement the first

volume, Iron Men and Saints, deals.

The second movement began with the rousing of the

Moslem powers which brought about the hundred-year

struggle for supremacy that spread from East to West. With

this phase the present volume, The Flame of Islam, is con

cerned.

These two phases of the crusades are different in nature.

The first was a mass movement, a march of inspired multi

tudes. The second was a world conflict in which individual

leaders arose to take command on both sides.

And these leaders, from Saladin to De Molay, the last

master of the Templars, are fully revealed to us by the chron

icles and the letters of their day. They shaped, by their

efforts and sacrifices, the beginnings of the modern world.

H.L.

CONTENTS

PAGB

Author s Note v

PART I

CHAPTX*

I The Frontier 3

II The Land of the Arabs 6

III Islam ii

IV The Knights of the Prophet 16

V The Assassins M

VI The Kalifs Curtain 26

VII Saladin 31

VIII The Path of War 39

IX Exiles 46

X Saladin Pays a Visit 53

vii

viii CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

XI A King Is Crowned 63

XII Hattin 68

XIII Jerusalem 74

PART II

XIV The Army of Islam 85

XV The Gathering Storm 93

XVI Guy Marches to Acre 98

XVII The Siege Begins 104

XVIII Karakush Burns the Towers 1 1 1

XIX The Full Tide m

XX Richard at the Wall 131

XXI The Massacre 140

XXII Richard Takes the Field 149

XXIII The Barrier of the Hills 158

XXIV The Caravan 167

XXV Baha ad Din s Tale 173

XXVI Saladin Strikes 178

XXVII Richard s Farewell 188

XXVIII Ambrose Visits the Sepulcher 199

XXIX The Dream of the Hohenstaufen. An

Interlude 207

CONTENTS ix

PART III

CHAPTER PAGE

XXX Innocent Speaks 217

XXXI The Conspirators 226

XXXII The Doge Sails 231

XXXIII What Ville-Hardouin Saw 239

XXXIV At the Sea Wall 246

XXXV Byzantium Falls 257

XXXVI The Master of the World 269

XXXVII Innocent s Call to Arms 276

XXXVIII The Road to Cairo 283

XXXIX Mansura 290

PART IV

XL The Child of Sicily 299

XLI Frederick s Voyage 307

XLII Vae, Caesar! 315

XLIII At the Table of the Hospital 324

XLIV Beauseant Goes Forward 331

XLV The Black Years 33^

XLVI The King s Ship 34*

XLVII The Miracle 347

XLVIII Shrove Tuesday s Battle 353

x CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

XLIX St. Louis at Bay 363

L Joinville s Tale 370

LI Farewell to Palestine 382

PART v

LII The Tide Ebbs 391

LIII Hulagu and the Kalif 398

LIV The Panther Leaps 404

LV A Letter to Bohemund 412

LVI Asia Sends Forth Its Horde 421

LVII The Last Stand 426

Afterword 437

Selected Bibliography 471

Index 479

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Blessing the Swords of the Crusaders FRONTISPIECE

FACING PAGE

Trooping the Kalif s Colors 10

Mars in Sign of the Ram 1 1

Entrance Tower of Marghab 58

The Krak des Chevaliers 59

Richard L Coeur de Lion 146

Saladin Gains a Victory over Crusaders 147

Tomb of Saladin 202

Aleppo 203

Innocent III. 234

Moslem Chieftain Attacking Mongol Officer 235

St Louis 346

St, Louis Captive 347

Alamut, Citadel of the Assassins 402

Sultan Kalawun s Tomb 403

Letter of Ghazan Khan 438

LIST OF MAPS

PAGE

The Flame of Islam 26

Frontier of the Holy Land in 1186, when Saladin

Prepared for His Invasion 75

Acre, and Probable Position of the Crusaders Siege

Lines and Saladin s Army at Beginning of the

First Battle of Acre, October 4-11, 1189 107

Constantinople at the Time of the Crusades 247

PART I

WHEN the Sun shall be FOLDED UP, and when the

stars shall fall

And when the wild beasts shall be gathered together.

When souls shall be faired with their bodies , . .

And when the leaves of the Book shall be unrolled.

And when Hell shall be made to blaze y and when

Paradise shall be brought near

Every soul shall know what it hath produced.

And by the Night when it cometh darkening on.

And by the Dawn when it brighteneth . . .

Whither then are ye going?

Verily this is no other than a warning to all creatures :

To him among you who willeth to walk in a straight

path.

THE KORAN.

THE FRONTIER

rE year 1169 dawned upon a quiet East. Along this

frontier of Christianity nothing unusual was taking

place. Nothing ominous, that is. And in that part of

the East known as the Holy Land the crusaders went about

their affairs without misgivings.

There was, of course, no actual peace in the Holy Land

or in the rest of the world, at this time. And the harvest

had been bad. During the last summer the rains had failed,

and the wheat and barley crops in consequence had been

poor. The cattle had suffered, and the fruit yielded little. At

such times men often gave way to the temptation to harvest

a neighbor s crops across the border, sword in hand. Both

Christians and Moslems were accustomed to such raids.

For seventy years the Holy Land, around the city of

Jerusalem, had remained in the hands of the victorious cru

saders. They had settled here, and here they meant to stay.

They had built their little cathedrals on the sacred places

where Israel had prayed before them; they had crowned the

rocky summits of isolated hills with their castles, and they

were the lords of the land. Their sons knew no other land

4 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

than this, which they called Outremer Beyond the Sea.

And their grandsons were growing up here.

The Moslems accepted the presence of the conquerors as

one of the inevitable things ordained by fate. They mourned

the loss of Jerusalem, and they awaited the hour when the

wheel of fortune would turn again and the holy city would be

restored to Islam. Meanwhile, they were occupied with their

own concerns beyond the border.

No boundary post marked the invisible line where Chris

tianity ceased and Islam began. Only a watcher standing in

the bell tower of the church of the Sepulcher could look

toward the east, over the flat gray roofs of Jerusalem, over the

parapet of the massive wall, past the haze of the Jordan

gorge to the hard blue height of Moab s hills.

Beyond that line, he would be told, lay the lands of the

paynims, the men of Islam. If he rode down with the pilgrims

through the waste lands of clay and rock, to gather reeds at

the edge of the muddy Jordan, he would see a squat tower

with a stone corral around it, for the horses, and perhaps

some men-at-arms in the shade of the olive trees.

If he dared cross the ford by the tower and ride on toward

the east, he might come upon the stained black shelters of

a Bedawin tribe, with its sheep and dogs. Instead of a tavern

or hospice, he would find only the rough stone wall and cactus

hedge of a caravan serai, in which to spend the night.

Nowhere would he find any visible sign of the borderline.

It was invisible. But it lay, enduring and forbidding, be

tween the men themselves. It separated Nazarene from Mos

lem knight of the cross from the warrior of Islam. To cross

it in reality a Christian must become a renegade. He must

renounce his own faith to enter the world of Muhammad,

the prophet. And few were the renegades on either side.

At this time, late in the Twelfth Century, men lived by the

faith within them. To the wearers of the cross, the cross was

the visible sign of an everlasting truth. They were the chil

dren of God, striving to follow the Seigneur Christ. Upon

no other path would they set their feet.

To the Moslems, they were merely the People of the Book.

True, Muhammad had said that the Messiah Jesus was one

THE FRONTIER 5

of the prophets. But Allah was God indeed, and Muhammad

had been his prophet. Upon the day when all souls would be

weighed by the chains of judgment, they who believed would

taste of Paradise, and they who believed not would know

oblivion. No middle path existed the Moslems were fiercely

certain of that.

This gulf between Moslem and Christian could not be

bridged by any bridge. They might live together in friendship,

as many did live, but between them the breach stood as wide

as ever. Muhammad had admonished his people never to

make lasting peace with the unbelievers.

And th| crusaders had taken Jerusalem. They meant to

remain tlmre, to tend the Garden of Gethsemane and ^ to

guard witl their swords the Rock of Calvary over which

they had t|iilt their churches. Jerusalem was the spot to be

cherished afeove a ll others in the world.

But to the Moslems also Jerusalem was sacred. They called

it Al Kuds y The Holy, and they held only Mecca and Medina

in greater veneration. Muhammad s home had been in Mecca,

and once he had fled to Medina they dated the years of

Islam from that flight. From the rock in Jerusalem, they

believed, he had ascended from the earth, upon the back of

his steed Burak. Now the crusaders had built a marble altar

over the rock, and had placed a cross upon the dome that

sheltered it The Moslems waited for the turning of the

leaves of the book of fate.

They were not aware, nor were the crusaders aware, that

in this year 1169 events were shaping that would break the

long deadlock between them. The change came impercepti

bly, and it began out of sight of the frontier, within the depths

of Islam.

THE LAND OF THE ARABS

IE world of Islam was restless as wind-swept sand.

It stretched, in fact, over all the deserts and barren

ranges between Jebal at Tarik Gibraltar and the

great heights of central Asia. Its people for the most part

were nomads moving with their animals wherever grass

grew. Such were the Bedawins, who clad themselves in the

earners hair and wool woven by their women. The children

watched their flocks and black goats, while the women did

all the work, even kneading rings of camel dung to dry for

fuel. The men did the ploughing, with a wooden spike hitched

by long ropes to a camel, followed by a harrow drawn by

mules. These were the farming implements of Solomon s

day, and the Bedawin cared for no better, so long as Allah

sent rains from the sky. They knew every well of the waste

lands, and they plundered every stranger who came to the

wells.

To the common men of Islam, water was the veritable

giver of life. Grass failed when the rains did not come. At

such a time pools and cisterns became dry, or poisonous, and

the herds were thinned. Pestilence followed a dry season.

THE LAND OF THE ARABS 7

On the other hand abundant flowing water created a kind

of earthly paradise from the mass of date palms around an

oasis, to a hill garden fed by an underground channel. The

stone tanks of the great mosques served for washing and

drinking alike, and it was a poor palace that did not have

a fountain of some kind.

About the rivers such as the Nile and Tigris whole peoples

clustered, thriving in the flood periods, and sickening when

the waters sank low. To these folk of the desert, coming in

from the glare and the driven dust of the dry lands, the shel

tered shadow, the soft greenery and cool air of an oasis or

river gave relaxation and new life. Muhammad had assured

them that Paradise would be one immense garden, where

water miraculously never failed.

During the five centuries of Islam, the Arabs had become

the aristocracy of the Moslems the chosen people, dominant

over Bedawin and Berber, black Sudani and patient Tajik.

Victorious from Spain to China, they had held the lands and

trade of half Asia in their hands. And, like the Romans, they

had the pride of conquerors. Being both curious and adaptive,

they had learned much from the culture of elder Greece and

Persia. And as Latin had become the language of scholars

and kings in Europe, Arabic had become the speech of edu

cated men in western Asia. The Koran the Book To Be

Read could be copied into no other language.

But in five centuries the Arabs had changed from the

fanatical tribesmen who rode from Mecca under Khalid and

Muavia with no other possessions than their swords and the

memory of the exhortation of a dead prophet. As the Romans

had done before them, they settled down in the conquered

lands, to dispute fiercely among themselves. Unlike Rome,

Mecca changed little. It remained the sanctuary of Islam,

sheltering the great black stone, the Kaaba, and the sacred

well of Zem-zem the goal of the devout, where prayer

availed a hundredfold and even the barren stones were

blessed. In worldly splendor, however, the great cities of

Cordoba and Alexandria, Damascus and Baghdad outgrew

the desert city of the Prophet s birth. The Arabs had a taste

for splendor.

8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

In Damascus the descendants of Omar built a mosqae that

was a veritable wonder. An Arab traveler has described it as

it was at this time.

Nowhere else is such magnificence. Its outer walls are of squared

stones, and crowning the walls are splendid battlements. The col

umns supporting the roof of the mosque consist of black polished

pillars in a triple row. In the center of the building is a great dome.

Round the court are lofty colonnades above which stand arched

windows, and the whole area is paved with white marble. For twice

the height of a man the inner walls of the mosque are faced with

variegated marbles, and above this, even to the ceiling, are mosaics

of various colors and gold, showing figures of trees and towns and

beautiful inscriptions, all most exquisitely worked. The capitals

of the columns are covered with gold, and the columns around the

court are all of white marble, while the walls that enclose it are

adorned in mosaics.

Both within the mihrab and around it are set cut-agates and

turquoises of the size of the finest stones that are used in rings.

On the summit of the dome of the mosque is an orange and above it

a pomegranate, both in gold. Before each of the four gates is a place

for ablution, of marble, wherein is running water and fountains

which flow into great marble basins. . . . The Kalif al Walid spent

thereon the revenues of Syria for seven years, as well as eighteen

shiploads of gold and silver.

But within the mosque over a sealed entrance that had

been the door of the great Roman basilica upon the founda

tions of which the mosque had been built, remained an in

scription worn by time "Thy Kingdom, Christ^ is an

everlasting kingdom^ and thy dominion endureth throughout all

generations"

Indeed wealth flowed through the hands of the Arabs.

They had become heritors, by virtue of their swords, of the

vast palaces of Yazdigird and Samarkand; the sweep of their

conquest had brought to their feet all the riches stored in the

jeweled basilicas of Byzantium and the immense treasuries

of Egypt, Their kalifs the successors to Muhammad

lived in a golden haze of luxury. Haroun ar Raschid was

dead, but the new Commanders of the Faithful rode through

THE LAND OF THE ARABS 9

courtyards as wide as open fields, attended by regiments of

guards whose black-and-gold cloaks gleamed against the

blue of the sky, and the plumed heads of the horses were like

tawny wheat, tossing under the wind. And when the wind

blew, the bronze lions roared by the gates.

Lovely Zenobia lay in her tomb, but the Bedawin spread

their black tents within the white marble columns of her

theater, in the shadow of the temple of Balkis where the

palms nodded over the steaming sulphur springs.

Meanwhile wealth had changed the Arabs from single-

minded warriors to shrewd merchants. Many a Sindbad

sought his fortune in new lands. Caravans came down the

slow, long road from Cathay, the laden camels bearing sacks

of rhubarb, silk, or camphor and the musk of Tibet. Over the

barrier ranges of India came spices, cinnamon, and precious

stones. From the deserts of Arabia the caravans brought

incense and dates. Where the trade routes crossed, as at

Baghdad or Damascus, enormous markets exchanged the

furs of the North for the precious stuffs of the East, and

skilled workmen wrought fine fabrics damask, brocades,

or camelet.

In a single voyage a merchant made his fortune by bringing

porcelain from China to Byzantium; there he took ship with

a cargo of Greek brocade, for India. He sold this and bought

Indian steel, conveying it overland by caravan to Aleppo,

whence he took glassware to Yamen, going back to Persia

with embroidered stuffs.

Their long open boats with towering lateen sails drifted

down the wide rivers, and ventured overseas. The Arab

masters knew the trade routes, and had, besides, serviceable

maps and compasses at this time when European seamen

felt their way along the northern coasts from headland to

headland.

But in the last century a new power had entered Islam,

displacing the Arabs to a great extent. From that immense

reservoir of men beyond the heights of central Asia the pagan

Turks appeared with their women and children and cattle.

They had wolf heads on their standards, and a lust for war

io THE FLAME OF ISLAM

in their hearts. They were the brood of the steppes and the

lofty snow-filled valleys, and their strength was the untiring

strength of barbarians. Some of them, Hungarians and

Kazars, turned toward Europe; others wandered down the

rivers, dwelling for a time at Bokhara and Samarkand, then

pressing on to warmer lands. These, the Seljuks and Turko

mans of the White and Black Sheep, made themselves lords

of the eastern frontier of Islam. Under Mahmoud of Ghazni

they penetrated India, while other Seljuks drifted into the

service of the kalif of Baghdad.

Whereupon the race of Haroun ruled no more, and the

Seljuks rode on to the west, until they could look across the

waters at the walls of Constantinople. They became devout

Moslems, and this new wave of conquest touched Christian

ity so near that it helped launch the crusades to free Jerusa

lem from the yoke of Islam. Fortunately for the crusaders,

the last great sultan of the Seljuks, Malik Shah, had perished

before their coming, and Islam remained divided among a

dozen princes. In such a chaos the authority of the kalifs

went unheeded.

But the Turks had brought new blood into the thinning

veins of Islam; they made up the bulk of its armies. While the

Turkish sultans ruled, the Arabs remained the intellectual

class, with the threads of affairs under their capable fingers.

And for generations they had followed a new policy, of con

version instead of conquest. Their imams , leaders, and kadis >

judges, penetrated the Far East to make converts.

For the present this had no perceptible effect in the nearer

East, yet they had tapped the reservoir of the barbaric clans,

and had set new forces in motion. They had extended the

dominion of Islam over vast territories, and as far as the

guard posts of China the muezzins called the multitudes to

prayer.

f L^^e^Ul^

f*S * ** ^ x * **

j^fc*t^^

TROOPING THE KALIFS COLORS

A crude illumination of an early Thirteenth Century

Arabic manuscript

COURTESY OF BLOCHET LES ENLUMINURES DES MANUSCRITS ORIENTAUX

MARS IN SIGN OF THE RAM

Illumination from Arabic astrology, mid-Thirteenth Century.

Notice that Mars is the figure of a Mongol warrior.

Below, the figures of the planets Saturn, Mercury,

Venus, Mars, Jupiter.

Ill

ISLAM

the muezzin called from his balcony, hundreds

of thousands hastened to cleanse themselves and

kneel toward Mecca. "Allah is Almighty Allah is

Almighty ... I witness that there is no other god but Allah

I witness that Muhammad is his prophet . . Come to

prayer come to prayer . . . Come to the house of praise.

Allah is Almighty Allah is Almighty . , . There is no god

but Allah!"

Islam submission bound together the unruly multitudes

which had become Muslimin Moslems, as the Christians

called them those who had submitted. Islam fed their

cravings, and ordered the hours of their day. It put the sword

in their hands, and bade them use it against the unbelievers.

It made of them a gigantic brotherhood, apart from the

other men of the world.

They were all wanderers at heart why not, when God s

earth was wide, with so much for their eyes to see within it?

Islam enjoined upon them the duty of the pilgrimage, and

of hospitality to other Moslems. The visitor within the bonds

of Islam did not make a gift to his host; instead the master

12 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

of the house rewarded the guest. All property belonged to

Allah, and they were but the keepers of it.

Islam assured them that all happenings were written down

in the book of fate, even the hours of their deaths. But fatal

ism brought its anodyne. If the props of a weak dwelling

collapsed and the roof fell in, and perhaps someone was killed^

who could avert his fate? The house was rebuilt no stronger

than before. When pestilence visited them, and hundreds of

bodies were carried out of a single city gate in a day, the

survivors bore the dead upon their shoulders and sat down to

await what fate would bring them. It was all written, and

what was written would come to pass.

These men of the desert had a code as rigid as any Chris

tian law. The Bedawin who would club a stranger to death

on the road to take his horse would not lift hand against the

man who had eaten of his salt. Tribesmen who would rather

kill than loot and would much rather loot than eat would

pass without a glance the goods of another clan left for safe

keeping by the grave of a holy man.

Lying was an ancient art with them, but they would hold

with few exceptions to a spoken promise. "What is profit

without honor?" they said.

The brotherhood of Islam had a strange and restless free

dom within it. Its rulers were all autocrats, as the patriarchs

of the clans had been before them. The sultan or prince was

answerable only to Allah for his deeds, but his servants would

sit by his bed and worry him out of sleep if they disapproved

of his conduct. His deeds must be weighed in the scales of .

the Koran, and if the balance were against him, a venerable

kadi would appear to exhort him to better things.

A prince might seize the property of his followers, but if he

did they could haunt his doorstep and beg for charity. All

the goods and gear of the dead, indeed, went into his hands

by right; yet woe to the lord who did not provide for widows

and orphans. Like the baron of feudal Europe, he bestowed

grants of land and dwellings on his vassals who must come

at his summons after their fields were planted to serve

in his wars. In their turn, they must make annual gifts of

money, horses, weapons, or slaves to the prince. The spoil

ISLAM ij

taken in war was divided between the prince and his vassals.

Besides this levy of the vassals, the greater princes of Islam

had what may be called standing armies. Masterless warriors

enlisted in his pay, and ate of his salt. Sometimes he bought

n outright slaves trained to arms who were known as mamluks

L^ "the possessed." These mamluks were of Turkish origin,

^and since they were both loyal and formidable in arms, they

^became the flower of the armies. Usually they composed the

# bodyguards of the princes, and their sons succeeded to their

j-position and pay. Like the Cossacks of a later day, they could

^turn their hands to other work, training horses, building

bridges, or caring for falcons or messenger pigeons. They

followed the hunt as eagerly as their masters.

Already most of the reigning princes of this portion of Asia

j between the sands of the Sahara and the hill barriers of Persia

atabegs, Father Commanders Turkish captains of

who had first served and then displaced the powerful

L Arab families. Mahmoud of Ghazni had been born a slave.

^J Moslem slaves had little to regret. They could, of course,

be sold in the open market, and their lives rested upon the

pleasure of their masters. But the position of slaves was an

honorable one in this brotherhood of Islam, since the master

had the obligation to protect and care for his servitors, and

\ many a lord was ruled in reality by his domineering slaves,

especially if they were mamluks. Women and infidel slaves

were entitled to no more care than the beasts.

^ All this motley world of Islam came together in fellowship

upon the Hadj, the Pilgrim Road. Gaunt Turkomans in

sheepskins from the north sheathed their yataghans and

trotted quietly beside their feudal foemen the Kurds of the

hills. Black slaves from Egypt clad in flaming crimson

guarded the tall, swaying dromedaries that bore within

screened hampers the women of some amir or prince.

Learned kadis, sitting sidewise on donkeys under the para

sols held by their disciples, discoursed of the merits of the

road of salvation, and barefoot pilgrims thronged around to

listen. Somber warriors, shields swinging upon their shoulders,

stared through the dust at a passing cavalcade of merchants

in striped khalats with heavy purses swaying at their girdles

i 4 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

and forbore to plunder. Fly-infested beggars thrust out

their bowls unreproved.

Veiled women, as sturdy as the warriors, with all the pride

of poverty and suffering, tugged at the halter ropes of mules

upon which old grandsires clung, on their last journey to the

city of salvation. They all gathered together in the serais

at night to share fire and food and to watch the antics of the

dervishes who circled slowly and chanted to the thrumming

of the drums. Holy men with shaven skulls sat patiently in

the dirt and dung by the beasts, waiting to accept the leav

ings of the food. They were all sons of the road, and it was

good to be upon the road of salvation.

They could not go to Jerusalem, where the crusaders

barred the way, but they knew every tradition of that holy

city how lost souls wailed of nights in the Valley of the

Damned under the Golden Gate. How the white marble

height of the Noble Sanctuary 1 awaited the final day of

judgment, when the souls of the faithful would gather in the

Cavern of Souls under the rock of Muhammad s ascension,

and Solomon himself would sit in judgment before the chains,

with David and the Messiah Jesus at his side. They even

knew just where the chains hung, from the great arches.

They had built, before the coming of the infidels, a dome

over the sitting place of Solomon, in readiness for this ulti

mate event.

They cherished old customs, but their restless minds led

them off after new soothsayers and would-be prophets, for

they were as changeable as children. Credulous and impul

sive, they could be fired by an idea. A strong man could lead

them easily, but only a saint of Islam could restrain them or

hold them together for any time.

^he Haram, the quarter sacred to the Moslems in Jerusalem, lies above the

site of Solomon s temple. The rock from which they believed Muhammad ascended

is thought to have been the altar of burnt offerings of the Israelites. In the vaulted

chambers under the El Aksa mosque at the end of the Haram, remnants of Herod s

temple are still to be seen. Even to-day under British control, Christian visitors are

admitted to the Haram only upon sufferance. During the Arab- Jewish troubles in

August and September 1929, the Golden Gate and the underground chambers as

well as the Cavern of Souls were closed to visitors. The present writer was allowed

to inspect them by permission of the mufti of Jerusalem.

ISLAM 15

Ceaselessly they disputed among themselves about the

details of their faith, yet they were more than ready to tear

the limbs from a mocker of their faith. The only thing capable

of welding them together was war the holy war against

unbelievers. Muhammad had exhorted them never to fail

in the holy war, the jihad. At such a time all Islam would

unite, burning with the fever of martyrdom, and who could

stand against Islam ?

But, until now, they had found no one to lead a jihad

against the crusaders. For a time they had rallied to Zangi,

the atabeg of Mosul who captured Edessa from the Chris

tians and so brought down upon them the second of the

crusades. In their anger they had mobbed the pulpit of

Baghdad where the kalif behind his black veil remained im

potent against the crusaders. Yet the leader had not come

forth.

Now, in the year 1169, Nur ad Din, the great sultan of

Damascus, preached the jihad. Nur ad Din, however, was

old a man of sanctity incapable of forcing the issue against

the Christian knights. Another leader must be found.

THE KNIGHTS OF THE PROPHET

r s IN Christendom, the youth of Islam went to a hard

school. Boys grew up under rigid authority, taught

by khojas and hadjis^ sitting in the wide courtyards

of the mosques. For the aristocracy of Islam was one of

learning as well as the sword, and the Arab and Turkish

youngsters swayed in unison as they memorized the sonorous

verses of the Koran, even if they did not master reading.

Old mamluks taught them the use of the bow, handled

from the saddle, not from the ground. They practised in the

riding fields with slender bamboo lances, and became adept

at sword play the swift strokes of the pliant curved blades.

They raced their ponies and longed for the battle-wise thor

oughbreds of the stern lords their fathers. The richest of them

found diversion in the favorite game of mall^ in which the

riders drove a ball about the field with mallets the game

that is polo to-day.

Wine was forbidden them, and dalliance with women de

nied them until full manhood. Their teachers frowned upon

gaming, and even chess was a sport reserved for the elder

men. True, they could watch the exciting magic lantern that

THE KNIGHTS OF THE PROPHET 17

cast its shadow figures upon the wall, or a rare puppet show

in which the ageless Punch cracked obscene jokes and beat

his wife. Yet laughter touched them seldom and most of

them grew up somber, intent on the affairs of men.

They shared, of course, in the hunting that was half the

life of the Moslem nobles hunting with falcon, panther,

bow, or spear. One of them, Ousama, a son of the lord of

Shaizar, has left us a tale of his hunting in the beginning of

the Twelfth Century.

In the house of my father, by Allah, we had about twenty captive

gazelles, with brown coats and white coats. Also young gazelles,

born in his house, and stallions and goats. He would send his men to

far-off lands to buy falcons, even to Constantinople.

I have taken part in the hunting of great lords, but I have never

seen hunts like those of my father may Allah have mercy upon

him. He spent all his time during the day in reciting the Koran, in

fasting and in hunting; during the night he copied down the Book of

Allah the Most High. He made two copies written from one end

to the other in gold.

Now we had at Shaizar two places good for the chase one on the

mountain where partridges and hares were plentiful, the other by

the banks of the river where waterfowl, grouse, and antelope were to

be met.

Falcons became as common as chickens with us, and the servants

of my father may Allah have mercy on him were mostly fal

coners and saker keepers and men who looked after the dogs. He

taught his company of mamluks the art of caring for falcons.

As for him, he went out to hunt accompanied by his four sons,

and we ourselves brought along our esquires, our led horses and

weapons because we were not safe from encounters with the

Franks, 1 our neighbors. We brought more than a dozen falcons

with us each time, and pairs of men to look after the sakers, the

hunting leopards and the dogs. One man went with the greyhounds,

the other with the brach-hounds.

On the way to the mountain, my father would say to us, "Scatter.

Whoever has not yet finished his reading of the Koran, let him

fulfil his duty." Then we, his sons, who knew the Koran by heart,

^he crusaders. Ousama lived in the foothills near Hamah, and to the west of his

castle stretched the mountains. Two of the crusaders 1 citadels, the great Krak des

Chevaliers and Marghab, lay across this borderline, within raiding distance of

Hamah.

i8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

would separate one from another and would recite until we reached

the meeting place.

Then my father gave his orders to the squires who went off to

look for partridges. Still there remained with my father, between

his companions and the mamluks, forty horsemen, experienced

hunters. As soon as a bird took flight, or a hare or antelope stirred

up the dust, we were off after them, ready to loose the falcons at

them. So we arrived at the top of the mountain. The ride lasted

until the afternoon. Then we went back, after feeding the falcons

and let them down at the mountain springs where they drank and

bathed themselves.

Whenever we mounted our horses toward^ the place of waterfowl

and grouse, it was an amusing day. We left the hunting leopards

and sakers outside the reed beds, and only took the falcons with

us into the marshy ground. If a grouse flew, a falcon was after it.

If a hare jumped up we cast a falcon at it, which took it or drove it

toward the leopards. Then the keeper loosed a leopard at it. If a

gazelle jumped out toward the leopards, they were sent after it.

Often they captured it.

In these swampy reed beds, there were numbers of wild boars.

We rode at a gallop to fight and kill them, and then our joy was

intense.

One of the falcons, although still quite young, was large as an

eagle. The head falconer Gana im used to say, "This one called al

Yashur has not its equal among the falcons. It will not leave any

game without taking it." At first we doubted him.

Gana im trained al Yashur. It became like one. of our household.

In the hawking, it served its master, unlike other birds of prey that

pursue the quarry for themselves. Al Yashur livfed beside my father,

and was well able to look after itself. If it wished tfc> bathe, it moved

its beak in the water to show what it desired. Then my father or

dered a tub of water to be placed near it. When it came out, my

father put it on a wooden gauntlet made especially for it, and set

the gauntlet by a lighted brazier. Then the falcon was combed and

rubbed with oil, and they rolled up a fur cloak for it, on which it

settled down and slept. If my father wanted to go off to the women s

chambers, he would say, "Bring the falcon," and it would be

brought asleep as it was, and the cloak placed beside the bed of my

father may Allah have mercy on him.

In the winter, the waters flooded the ground near Shaizar, and

waterfowl gathered in the pools. My father himself would take al

Yashur on his, wrist and go up to the citadel to show it the birds.

The citadel lay to the east, while the birds were to the west of the

THE KNIGHTS OF THE PROPHET 19

town. As soon as the falcon had seen the birds, nay father let it go,

and it flew over the town until it reached the quarry and seized

its booty.

When the pursuit was lucky, the falcon came down again near us.

If not, it took shelter in one of the caves along the river we did not

know where. The next morning the falconer would go to look for it,

and would bring it back.

Mahmoud, lord of Hamah at that time, would send over every

year to ask for the falcon, which was sent to him with a keeper, and

was used in his hunting for twenty days.

But al Yashur died at Shaizar.

One morning I went to visit Mahmoud at Hamah. While I was

there, the readers of the Koran came into view, with mourners

crying, "Great is the Lord!" I asked who was dead, and they re

plied, "One of Mahmoud s daughters." I wanted to go with them

to the foneral, but Mahmoud forbade me.

They all went out and buried the body, and when they came back

Mahmoud asked me, "Knowest thou who the dead person was?"

I made answer, "It was told me one of thy children." He an

swered, "Nay, by Allah, it was the falcon al Yashur. When I heard

that it was dead, I sent for it and ordered a shroud and a funeral,

and buried it. Indeed, it was worth all of that."

One hunting leopard also lived in our house, in a shed built for

it with hay in it. A hole was made in the wall by which the leopard

could go in and out. This unusual animal had a servant to care for it.

Among the guests of our house at that time was the old and wise

Abou Abdallah of Toledo. He had been director of the House of

Science in Tripoli. When the Franks captured this town, my father

took the shaikh Abou Abdallah for himself. I studied grammar

under him for ten years.

One day I found him with the following texts in front of him

the Book of Sibawaihi, the Particulars of ibn Jinni, the Elucidation

of al Farisi, and also the Examples and the Flowers of Speech. I

said to him, "O shaikh hast thou read all of these books?" He an

swered, "Indeed I have read them, or rather, by Allah, I have

copied them out. Dost thou wish to be convinced? Choose any text,

open it and read to me the first line of the leaf."

I took up one of them; I opened it and read a line. He resumed

reading from memory until he had finished the part. That was a re

markable phenomenon. At another time I saw Abou Abdallah.

He had been hunting with this hunting leopard. He was mounted

on a horse, with his feet wrapped in bloodstained bandages. While

20 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

he had been following the leopard, thorns on the ground had torn

his feet. Yet he did not feel the hurt at the time because he had been

absorbed in watching the leopard seize the gazelles! 1

Men of letters like Abou Abdallah were welcome guests in

the houses of the nobles. "The ink of the learned" so a

proverb ran "is as precious as the blood of the martyrs."

And beside them sat the scientists, astronomers, physicians,

and engineers. Because the astronomers interpreted omens

and calculated fortunate days, they were important person

ages and usually received large salaries from the princes.

On the flat roofs of the palaces they had their spheres of

bronze, their zodiacs and horizons, carefully made. Already

they had set down in tables the orbits of the planets, and had

calculated the vagaries of the moon s motion six centuries

before Europeans did so. They had even worked out an

exact calendar, but the expounders of the Law would have

nothing that altered Muhammad s choice of the months of

the moon. They had translated the books of the Greeks, and

compared them with the Ptolemaic and Hindu theories, and

had learned much.

The Arabs had been wise enough to study the Roman

ruins that they found scattered through their conquests.

Dikes and aqueducts and hydraulic works seemed good to

these avid intellects of the dry lands, and they copied them

while Europeans made quarries out of them.

Someone translated Aristotle, and he became for better or

worse the ideal of Moslem philosophers. Natural law and the

dicta of logic he made clear to them.

Their mathematicians who were at home with algebra

and the decimal system worked out latitude and longitude.

And, having noted down the tidings brought by travelers

and seamen, made excellent maps. A certain Idrisi completed

a silver chart of the Mediterranean etched on a silver shield.

Cairo, as well as Baghdad, had its House of Science, with

an observatory and a library. A cool and quiet place the

the memoirs of Ousama, translated from the Arabic by M. Hartwig

Derenbourg "Souvenirs historiques et r Setts de chassepar un tmir syrien du douzilme

stick."

THE KNIGHTS OF THE PROPHET 21

library, with its manuscripts arranged in cubicles up the

walls, and its cushioned rugs where men of letters could sit,

reading the volumes on the stands in front of their knees and

sipping sherbet. In the cubicles lay Greek texts of Archimedes

and Galen.

Paper had been known to the Arabs for some time

paper made of cotton, at first in Samarkand, then in Damas

cus. The secret of making it had come from China over the

caravan road with many other things.

The Arab physicians had secrets of their own. They knew

of more than simple remedies, having studied a bit of chemis

try and the course of the blood. Most ills they treated by diet

and hygiene, while the Christians of Europe still searched for

malignant demons.

And a few years before, Nur ad Din, the enlightened sultan

of Damascus, had built a public hospital where physicians

made examinations and gave out drugs. Only in surgery

were the men of medicine deficient because the expounders

of the Law forbade them to cut or alter human bodies.

The keen minds of the Arab scientists probed into the

causes of things. They followed Aristotle into the mysteries

of Nature, and pondered. And out of their pondering grew

disbelief in religion. About the philosophers gathered groups

of doubters, invoking the mantle of Pythagoras. Mysticism

went hand in hand with scepticism.

A century before, the wine-loving court mathematician of

the last great Seljuk sultan had written:

Myself when young did eagerly frequent

Doctor and Saint., and heard great argument

About it and about; but evermore

Came out by the same door where in I went.

THE ASSASSINS

ECHO of Omar s plaint was heard within Cairo,

where the free-thinkers gathered together. Cairo

itself lay beyond the authority of the orthodox kalif

of Baghdad and the idlers in its courtyards dared mock at

Islam while they nourished secrets of their own. They were

known as Ismailites, and they built a lodge of their own,

sending out into the East their missionaries of unbelief*

And thereby hangs a tale so strange that, although the truth

of it was established long ago, it has the seeming of a myth.

The tale is of the Old Man of the Mountain, as the crusaders

called him.

During the lifetime of Omar lived one Hassan ibn Sabah,

a free-thinker, an Ismailite, and a man of consummate ambi

tion. This extraordinary soul was not content to be a mission

ary of scepticism; he dreamed of a new power. He said that

with a half-dozen faithful servants he could make himself

master of the world.

It is related that after he said this, one of his friends fed

him meals of saffron and a certain wine supposed to be

remedies for madness. Later, Hassan sent a message to this

friend: "Which of us is mad now?"

THE ASSASSINS 23

Because, in a way, he made good his prophecy. At least he

became the Old Man of the Mountain.

In the beginning, undoubtedly, Hassan possessed great

personal magnetism. The half-dozen allies that he desired

he acquired readily enough by his boldness. He preached a

very simple creed, "Nothing is true, and all is permitted."

And he gained attention by ridiculing some of the rather

absurd traditions of orthodox Islam.

He formed his followers into a secret order, divided into

preachers, companions, and fedawi devoted ones. These

became the real key of his success. They were the Assassins.

Garbed in white, with blood-red girdle and slippers, each of

them carried a pair of long curved knives. They were young,

and Hassan initiated them into the secrets of hemp eating

and the virtue of opium mixed with wine until they became

in reality the blind instruments of his will. He convinced

them that death was verily the door to an everlasting delight,

of which the drug dreams gave them only a foretaste.

To these youths Hassan appeared to be a prophet more

potent than any figure of Islam; to discontented souls he

presented himself as a liberator; only to the few subtle minds

of his order did the master reveal his real purpose to win

power by instilling fear, and wealth by upsetting the existing

order of things.

"Bury everything sacred," he explained, "under the ruins

of thrones and altars."

And he began a schedule of assassination, to create fear.

Usually three fedawis would be sent to kill the appointed

victim, often at the hour of public prayer in a mosque.

The first Assassin would leap at the condemned man and

stab him; if he failed, the second and third would make their

attempt in the ensuing confusion. Since they themselves

rather sought than avoided death, they rarely failed in their

mission. At other times they would disguise themselves as

servants, or camel men water carriers, anything. In the

crowded streets of Muhammadan cities such folk throng past

their betters.

His first victim was the wisest soul in Islam, Omar s patron

and his own benefactor, Nizam al Mulk, the minister of the

24 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

great Seljuks. Nizam s death hastened the break-up of the

Seljuk empire and Hassan profited from the chaos. He

dared assassinate Maudud, the ghazi of the North.

Shrewdly, he profited more from the fear caused by his

daggers than from the killings. Who cared to refuse him an

annual tribute to escape the daggers? Hassan was punctilious

about his word. If he promised a victim immunity, the man

went unharmed.

Naturally, many amirs and sultans made open war on him.

In whole districts the mulahid^ heretics as his followers were

called were searched out and slain. But Hassan himself

proved elusive. And other lords, who were afraid of the dag

gers, protected him. One influential teacher preached against

him, cursing him publicly, and before long an Assassin knelt

upon the chest of the too-daring preacher, in the seclusion

of his study. A long knife pricked the soft skin of his stomach.

After the fedawi had vanished, the preacher no longer cursed

the heretics, and his disciples asked him why.

"They have arguments," said the great man, who was not

without humor, " that cannot be refuted."

And then, again, an enemy of the order would awake to

find two daggers thrust into the carpet beside his head. The

resulting dread of overhanging peril would sap the courage

of a man who did not fear the open shock of battle. No one

was immune. A kalif of Cairo fell under the daggers.

But Hassan s greatest conception was his castles. Usually a

Moslem lord had his citadel on some height within a town.

The grand master of the new order of death sought out sites

upon the mountains overlooking a city. Existing castles he

bought or intrigued for, and in the wild mountain districts

he built strongholds of his own. These were of stone, and

almost impregnable so that a few men could hold them.

So Hassan came to be called the Shaikh al jebal the Old

Man of the Mountain. And no old man of the sea was ever

such a burden as he. To his strongholds flocked all unruly

spirits, and he made a place for all. Few cities in the hill

regions of Persia and Syria did not have a castle of the

Assassins to reckon with.

At the end of his life Hassan had managed to lay the foun-

THE ASSASSINS 25

dation for his strange new imperium. He ruled an empire of

his own, from Samarkand to Cairo wherever stood the

mountains. His plan after all was simple: he had laid the

governing powers under contribution, and enlisted the revolu

tionary powers of the people. Having established a perpetual

reign of terror and profited much from it, he died and

another grand master headed the order.

And at this time, paradise was built. Tales of it filled all

nearer Asia, and generations passed before the outer world

knew the secret of it.

Alamut the Eagle s Nest was the headquarters of the

order. Here, on the summit of an unclimbable mountain, a

walled garden had been built a garden filled with exotic

trees, with marble fountains that tossed wine spray into the

sunlight, with silk-carpeted pavilions and tiled kiosks. The

melody of invisible musicians hung upon the air, and all

men who entered were wrapped in the dreams of opium, or

yielded the bodies of beautiful girls.

And only the young Assassins could enter this paradise.

First, they were given a drug and carried in a coma to the

garden, where they awakened to every delight of the senses.

Then, after two or three days they were drugged again and

carried out into the castle of Alamut, where they were told

that, in reality, they had been allowed to visit the unearthly

paradise the place that awaited them at death. No island

of lotus eaters quite compared to the garden of the Eagle s

Nest. Above the entrance gate was written:

AIDED BY GOD

THE MASTER OF THE WORLD

BREAKS THE CHAINS OF THE LAW.

SALUTE TO HIS NAME !

Just how the Assassins managed to appear to be all things

to all men is one of the mysteries of elder Asia, wherein the

straight path often went roundabout, and prophets spoke in

parables, and sanctuaries were veiled, and men were led by

ideas instead of rules.

THE KALIF S CURTAIN

E Assassins were In fact very much like vultures,

perched in their rocky eyries, watching the move-

ments of human beings in the crowded valleys below.

No one knew in what place the shadow of the vultures wings

would fall although they were most often seen in the

mountain region of Persia far to the east, and in the hills

north of Lebanon that divided the crusaders and the Mos

lems. During the chaotic conditions of the last hundred

years they had risen to the height of their power. They were,

however, by no means supreme*

For one thing the kalifs still reigned in Baghdad no more

than specters of the early kalifs, but still with the black veil

and the mantle of the prophet upon them* North of Baghdad,

up the ancient Tigris and Euphrates, extended a network of

little dominions ruled by the atabegs the war lords whose

chief citadels lay in the gray rock of Aleppo above the red

wheat fields, and in mighty Edessa with its ruined churches

standing desolate. Still farther north the warlike Armenians

clung to their mountain villages in the barrier range of the

Taurus.

Beyond them lay Asia Minor, its lofty plateau a grazing

CONSTANTINOPLE

^CRUSADERS I ( MOSLEM

6 TOWNS TOWNS

CASTLES . A CASTLtS

dASCUS

SYR JAN

DESERT

FLAME

ISLAM

(ABIAN

)ESERT

THE KALIFS CURTAIN 27

ground for the sultan of Roum, Kilidj Arslan by name. He

was almost the only surviving prince of the Seljuk line, and

he was gradually pushing the Byzantines back, within the

shelter of the walls of Constantinople.

And one man was patiently tracing a pattern of order

through this kaleidoscope of the Near East. Nur ad Din, the

son of Zangi, had made himself supreme over the minor

chieftains and he ruled over the beginning of an empire,

from Edessa in the north to the Arabian desert in the south.

Light of the Faith, they called him a just man, rigorous

and devout, but too old to follow the path of war in the sad

dle. He had lieutenants more than willing to do this for him,

Shirkuh the Mountain Lion, and Ayoub his brother Kurds

who made a hobby of statesmanship and a pastime of war.

Nur ad Din reigned in Damascus, the Bride of the Earth,

and he was loath to leave its fruit gardens where lines of

willows and poplars kept out the desert dust, and swift

waters murmured under old bridges. He prayed in the great

mosque, with white turbaned hadjis sitting by the opened

windows of colored glass, ceaselessly intoning the verses of

the Book To Be Read. Beside the mosque clustered the tombs

of Islam s elder champions, in the rose gardens under the

dark mulberry trees. Through the four gates pattered the bare

feet of children hastening to a teacher s desk, and the limp

ing feet of the sick, and the firm feet of the lords.

He had brought peace to Damascus. Under the latticed

arcades of the alleys gray heads bent over chessboards of

inlaid ebony and ivory while bearded lips muttered the gossip

of the roads; at night upon the terraces stately figures scented

with civet knelt about the banquet cloth, sipping sherbet

while the pungent smoke of burning ambergris drifted up,

and Jutes wailed. Against the marble fretwork of balconies

overhead, fair faces pressed and dark eyes searched the shad

ows of the narrow streets, watching the torches of an amir s

cavalcade go by, or the plodding lantern of a drowsy donkey.

It was due to Nur ad Din, the son of the atabeg, that com

parative quiet prevailed in the Near East in this year 1169,

because, while he held the unruly north in rein, he had made a

truce with the crusaders.

28 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

These indomitable fighters lay within Islam but not of it

separated by the long natural barrier of Lebanon, beside

which the Jordan descended into the Dead Sea.

There was, however, a third power to be reckoned with,

in Cairo.

El Kahira, men called her, the Guarded. Others knew her

as the City of the Tents. She was mistress of the Nile, luxuri

ant and fecund and ageless. Toward her gates rode the mer

chants of all Asia, and from her port of Alexandria went forth

the ships of all the seas. Within her coffers lay wealth incal

culable.

But she was harassed and bereft. Too much blood had been

shed in the halls of her palaces by the great Gray Mosque;

the tombs of her mighty ones had fallen into neglect, and

down by the river the tents of the Bedawin stood among

smoke-darkened ruins. "The mark of the Beast," devout

Moslems said, "is upon her." For the kalif of Cairo was apart

from orthodox Islam, a schismatic, his adherents devotees of

Fatima, the daughter of Muhammad. He wore white instead

of traditional black and his unruly congregation believed

passionately in the coming of El Mahdi, the Guided One, who

would be a second Muhammad.

This Fatimid kalif lived in guarded seclusion. Sudani

swordsmen filled the corridors of the Great Palace, and paced

the mosaic floors of the antechambers, by the marble foun

tains where peacocks strutted and parrots screamed. The

audience hall glistened like a gigantic treasure vault with its

ceiling of carved wood inlaid with gold, and its inanimate

birds fashioned of silver and enamel feathers and ruby eyes.

But the kalif was hidden from the eyes of the curious by

a double curtain of gilt leather. Men said that he ate from

gold dishes and drank from amber cups he and the bevy

of his women. When he went from the city a pavilion

wrought of gold and silver thread accompanied him; when

he wished to enjoy the cooler air upon the river, a silver barge

awaited him.

Rumor said more than this. Within the foundation of the

palace, fair girls had been walled in, alive, as a sacrifice. A gilt

THE KALIFS CURTAIN 29

cage was kept in readiness to receive the kalif of Baghdad as a

captive, if the arms of Cairo should ever prevail over the

host of orthodox Islam. And up the river so rumor insisted

there was a hidden pleasure kiosk built in the semblance of

the sacred Kaaba of Mecca, and a marble pool filled with

wine, to mock the holy well of Zem-zem. Darker whispers

could be heard in the seclusion of the harim of a kalif who

had poisoned his son, and a wazir who had been cut to pieces

by the palace women.

The kalif ruled Egypt only in name, the real power in the

hand of his wazir, or minister. The kalif had become a figure

head, the wazir a dictator. Between them they had bought

off the enemies of Egypt for years, while the kalif amassed

new treasures. They had managed to play the invincible

Christian knights against the victorious armies of Nur ad

Din. Once they had paid the crusaders to beat off an attack

by Shirkuh, and then they had summoned Shirkuh to defend

the city against a foray of the king of Jerusalem.

A dangerous game, this of buying protection. The knights of

Jerusalem and the mamluks of Damascus had both tasted

the honey pots of the Great Palace, and had seen with their

own eyes the weakness of the men of Cairo. This taste only

whetted their appetite for more.

Amalric, king of Jerusalem, was a fighter and an aggressive

fighter. Clearly he saw that the capture of Cairo and the line

of the Nile would bring final triumph to the crusaders, and

would break the deadlock between Jerusalem and Damascus.

The possession of the kalif s treasures alone might do that,

but if the crusaders could hold Cairo and the narrow isthmus

of Suez (where the canal now lies) they would separate

the Moslem of the Near East from those on the African

coast.

And Shirkuh saw the situation just as clearly. He pointed

out to Nur ad Din that the crusader castles below the Dead

Sea made a salient that almost cut off Damascus from Cairo.

Moslem caravans had to feel their way through the desert,

to steal past the watchful eyes of the Christians. With Cairo

in his hands, Nur ad Din could pinch out this salient, and

then attack Jerusalem from two sides.

30 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Amalric started the race for Cairo as the year 1168 ended.

Having the shorter distance to go, he was first upon the

scene. But the fiery general of Nur ad Din was close on his

heels with a greater host, and Amalric, having failed to sur

prise Cairo, was forced to withdraw as quickly as he had

come, to his own lands. Thence he journeyed to Constan

tinople to beseech aid from the Byzantine emperor.

Not so did Shirkuh, He saw his chance and took it. Riding

triumphantly into the gates of Cairo, he boldly claimed the

reward of a rescuer and the kalif received him with outward

rejoicing and inward misgiving. At once the Mountain Lion

pounced upon the hapless wazir who had played the double

game of intrigue for so long, and the kalif agreed that it was

full time the wazir died. Whereupon Shirkuh was invested

in a robe of honor and duly declared wazir of Egypt.

It became apparent that Shirkuh meant to be dictator in

fact as well as in name. The swaggering Kurd overrode the

Fatimid officials and collected his own taxes, to the mingled

fear and admiration of the watching Cairenes. The kalif

stayed behind his curtain. Whether he was served by conve

nient poison or not, Shirkuh died almost in the moment

of his triumph.

His death left Nur ad Din s army without a head, and the

kalif without anything to protect him from the army. The

situation was precarious and the amirs of the army agreed

with the kalif that a new wazir should be chosen at once.

They debated among themselves and named Shirkuh s

nephew to win the loyalty of Shirkuh s mamluks a young

officer who was a general favorite. And the kalif agreed at

once, seeing in the officer a man too young to be experienced

an easier soul to deal with than Shirkuh.

So the kalif sent a new robe of honor out to the camp, with

an escort of kadis to salute the hitherto obscure officer and

to bestow upon him his name title El Malik en Nasr, the

Conquering King.

The officer was Saladin,

VII

SALADIN

HIRKUH S nephew thus became administrator of Egypt

at a time when the kaleidoscope of the Near East was

shifting in even more than its wonted fashion. He

discovered himself to be at once the wazir of a schismatic

kalif and the general of the orthodox army of Damascus; he

must be pacifier of an unruly country, and defender ex

traordinary against that veteran warrior, Amalric of Jerusa

lem. Some of the older amirs, jealous because a little-known

youth had been placed over them, left the army and went

back to Damascus with their men. Others remained expecting

that Nur ad Din would appoint someone else in his place.

It would be hard to conceive of a more trying situation.

Yet Saladin 1 emerged from it undisturbed. And in the

end he made a name for himself greater than that of the two

giants of, his day, Frederick Barbarossa and Richard the

Lion Heart.

Even in the beginning he had the gifts of patience and firm

x Salah ad Din. Moslems in general addressed him by his official title, Malik en

Nasr. The crusaders wrote down his name as Saladin and by this name he has been

known to Christendom for more than seven centuries.

32 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

determination. By birth he was a Kurd, of the northern hills

where the patriarchs still led the clans. Like the Scottish

Highlanders, the Kurds of that day knew the law of the sword

and of loyalty. They were like the Arabs but apart from

them. Lean and dark and passionate, they had all the pride

of the elder Greeks. The spoken word was their bond, and

he who had shared their salt was safe from harm at the hand

of the giver of the salt. All Kurds were soldiers by inclina

tion, and devout Muhammadans by tradition. But Saladin

strangely, in a Kurd had no love of fighting for its own sake.

Slight in body, subject to intermittent fever, he lacked

the energy that makes a sport of war. Courteous and shy

and self-contained, he avoided quarrels. He had a taste for

fine horses and rare wine, and books. He played polo well,

and he sought leisure rather than public honors.

He had not wanted to come to Egypt this time. "By

Allah," he had said, "if you offered me the kingdom of Egypt,

I would not go. I have suffered at Alexandria ordeals which

I will never forget/*

But go he did, at the request of Nur ad Din he who once

had held Alexandria for Shirkuh against the siege of the

crusaders for seventy-five days. Rumor has it that the

Christian knights esteemed him and welcomed him into their

company.

"No man may escape his fate," the jesters of the bazaar

pointed out. "Lo, here is this same Saladin now master of

Egypt."

Only this much is known of Saladin. The shadowy outline

is that of a recluse and a scholar more than a warrior. Yet

Saladin was sought after by the lords of Islam, and the men

of the army accepted his leadership. That he was able to

command he proved at once, when the throngs of Cairo

rioted, and he hung the worst of them. He defended Damietta

against the Byzantine fleet that came down later in the year.

He even struck a counter-blow at the Christians, raiding

with his mamluks across the sands, and plundering Amalric s

outposts. Still, he was not reconciled to Cairo and its endless

responsibility. When his father Ayoub a shrewd and im

petuous statesman, then governor of Damascus joined him

SALADIN 33

in the city, he offered to yield the wazirship to him. The old

Kurd refused.

"Am I," he said, "to alter what hath been done by fate?

Nay, thou art the wazir!"

Whereupon Saladin plunged into the task of creating an

orderly government in Egypt out of the prevailing chaos.

He had been chosen dictator and dictator he would be.

Cairo, blackened by fires, scarred by plague, rotted by bad

water, had not known a firm hand for generations. Only

the newer part of the city with its palaces and mosques lay

within the massive brick wall; the rest of it, between the

bare brown hills and the distant peaks of Ghizeh s pyramids,

was a half-ruined waste where Bedawins prowled and looted

dismantled tombs, when the mist hung over the river.

But the life of the bazaars went on apace, and wealth

gleamed amid the debris. Under the arches of the souk,

carpets were piled high and hemp bales pressed against

jars of olive oil colored lamps burned through the night

above chests of spices and pearls from the Indies watched

by swordsmen from Marghrab or Rayi. In this labyrinth

crowded a multitude of buyers and sellers; Jews in blue

robes bargained shrilly with Armenians and Venetians who

wore bells about their necks to show that they were despised

Nazarenes. If they rode donkeys they had to sit face to tail.

For this was the true city of the Thousand and One Nights,

sleepless, indolent, and very wise. Arab shaikhs in dark robes

strode among crimson-clad negroes; Circassian slaves, veiled

from forehead to toe, rode past in a cluster of black eunuchs

with their long staves. Fair and indifferent Greek girls stood

in the slave market under the insolent eyes of Turkish

officers. Mamluks in jeweled khalats built themselves palaces

of half-dried bricks in a month, and feasted on the carpets of

slain enemies.

From this tumult Saladin held aloof. While he displaced

the Fatimid officials with his own men and gave the vacated

palaces to them to plunder he lived in a small house near

the mosques. He discovered a great library within the city

120,000 volumes and while he had some of the manuscripts

sent to his own house, he entrusted the mass of them to a

34 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

distinguished man of letters, the kadi El Fadil, thereby

making one firm friend for life.

He gave up wine and sports, and settled down to a routine

of labor. At sunrise he rose from his mattress and washed his

face and hands before making the dawn prayer. After his

servants came in to salute him, the new wazir ate a little

fruit washed in clear water. His sleeping mattress was rolled

out of the way, and he held a morning /evee, listening to the

reports of his officers and the complaints of the mullahs and

merchants of the city. When they had taken their leave, the

young Kurd went out to make his daily inspection before

the heat grew too great.

At such a time he became a stately figure a slender man,

erect in bearing, with quiet, meditative eyes. He wore a

black tarbousky or long fez, wrapped round with a white

turban cloth, and a black cloak, its wide sleeves trimmed with

gold thread. Into his girdle was thrust a long Arab scimitar

with a gold or jade hilt. His horses were the best of the Arab

thoroughbreds, their reins and headstalls heavy with silver or

gilt coins. About him clustered his guards in yellow cloaks.

Before him went riders beating upon silver kettledrums, and

black Sudanis running barefoot, who cried,

" Way for the Conquering Lord, the favored of Allah!"

For the East demands splendor in its masters. And the

throngs that salaamed to Saladin or ran beside him to beg

would have drawn their knives to loot him if for one moment

he had relaxed the rein of authority.

But that moment did not come. Ayoub gave him wise

counsel, and Shirkuh s mamluks transferred their allegiance

to him. One of them, Karakush by name, knew all the arts

of fortification, and planned with him, after a devastating

earthquake, a new citadel on the spur of the overhanging

hills. They meant to run a wall from the city to the citadel,

and all the way down to the Nile.

All Saladin s kinsmen rallied to him Taki ad Din, his

nephew, a youthful and warlike soul, leader of the wild horse

men of the north, and Turan Shah, his brother, an expe

rienced man but uncertain and overrash.

And Nur ad Din, the sultan, sent him congratulations with

SALADIN 35

fresh troops and suggestions. The conquest of Egypt de

lighted Nur ad Din, who wished to have the kalif of Cairo

deposed, after which Saladin was to march to aid Nur ad

Din to overthrow the crusaders.

Saladin, however, did not obey at once. He knew that Nur

ad Din had one foot on the edge of the grave. If he left Egypt

to its own devices and joined the sultan, he would become

an officer of the army again, with others more than ready to

take his place. So Ayoub and Saladin played their parts in a

real comedy. When Nur ad Din was far in the north with his

army, the young Kurd would march against the salient of

the crusaders, raiding the castles of the knights down in

the desert. The sultan, hearing of this, would hasten back

joyfully to aid him, and Saladin upon one pretext or another

would decamp and recross the sands to Egypt.

The comedy did not long deceive the astute sultan, and

rumor said that he meant to come in person and dispossess

the young master of Egypt.

Saladin assembled his small council to discuss the situation

sitting down by Ayoub on a carpet with the leading amirs,

the officers of the mamluks, and his own kinsmen. He asked

them what they would do if the sultan, Nur ad Din, marched

on Egypt.

"When he comes/ cried Taki ad Din, "we will give him

battle andj drive him from the land."

The others assented, saying that they had eaten the salt of

Saladin. v But Ayoub lifted his gray head angrily. "I am thy

father," he said, "and here is Al Harimi thine uncle, and for

the rest, I am certain of their loyalty to thee. Who would

wish thee better than we?"

"I am sure of that," Saladin assented.

"Well," Ayoub went on, "by God, if I and thine uncle

should see the sultan Nur ad Din, we would lower our heads

and kiss earth before him. If he orders us to cut off thy head

with a saber stroke, be sure we will do it. That is how we are.

And these others if one of them saw the sultan Nur ad Din,

he would not dare to remain sitting in the saddle. He would

get down to kiss the earth. All this country is the sultan s

36 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

and if he wishes to name another in thy place > he will do it,

and we shall obey his commands!"

All the officers of the council cried assent, saying that they

were the slaves and mamluks of the sultan. Saladin dismissed

them, and Ayoub, when he sat alone with his son, said bit

terly:

"Thou art a fool, an idiot! To bring together all these men,

and tell them what thou hast at heart! When Nur ad Din

learns of thy plan, he will march to attack this land, and

thou wilt not have one of these men to defend it. Nay, more

some of them will write to him concerning thee. Write

thou also, saying, Why march against me, to bring me to

obedience? For that, it will be sufficient to take a towel and

pass it around my neck. When he reads thy letter, he will

put aside thinking of thee, and will occupy himself with the

more important matter of his kingdom so thou wilt gain

time. God is great and all-wise!"

Ayoub had spoken the truth. The Egyptian army was

loyal enough to the young Kurd, but the appearance of the

great sultan in the field would cause a general desertion.

Saladin realized this. He gave an order that took a good

deal of courage.

When the multitude gathered in the great mosque on the

following Friday for prayer, the mosque was as usual, the

unlit lamps hanging from the lofty ceiling, the carpets clean

and brushed, and the very shadows inviting meditation.

But when the preacher advanced from the alcove to the

carved wooden steps of the minbar, there was a turning of

heads and the sound of heavy breathing. Attentive eyes saw

that he was clad not in the customary white but in the black

of the orthodox preachers even his turban was black, and

about his hips a sword had been girdled, as in the days of

Muhammad and the Companions. Thrice he paused in his

ascent of the steps to strike the sword sheath upon the wood

for silence, but there was no need of that.

^ He lifted his long arms, and his voice echoed against the

high arches. "Blessed be the Companions, the Followers, and

the Mothers of the Faithful ... and the kalif Al Mustadi!"

The prayers went on, after an instant of amazement. For

SALADIN 37

the preacher had invoked the name of the kalif of Baghdad,

in the great mosque of Cairo, within an arrow s flight of the

palace where that other kalif, the Fatimid, lay behind his

curtains. Saladin had virtually dethroned the kalif of Cairo,

thereby making a host of new enemies for himself. But he

had made his own position clear. He was a follower of the

lawful kalif of Baghdad, and acknowledged no other lord.

By the same stroke Saladin gained possession of the kalif s

treasure gold and silver ingots ranged along the walls as

high as the ceiling, with caskets of matched pearls and

great, uncut precious stones almost beyond the counting.

As well as the famous enamel peacocks and a leopard made

of ebony spotted with pearls. With this trove in his hands,

he could set Karakush to work in earnest, taking massive

stones from the pyramids to build the new walls, and an

aqueduct to bring good water from the hills, and a dam to

keep out the stagnant river water. As Nur ad Din had done

in Damascus he planned an academy for the men of letters,

and a hospital.

He appointed over it [said an Arab from Spain, who saw it years

later] a man of knowledge with a provision of drugs. In the cham

bers of this palace couches have been set, with bed clothes and serv

ants who inquire into the condition of the sick morning and eve

ning. Opposite this hospital is another for the women. Adjacent is a

spacious court where the chambers have iron gratings for the con

finement of those who are mad. He himself investigates everything,

verifying what is told him with the uttermost care.

Meanwhile his court was growing. Moslems went rar to

seek out a man who had been fortunate. Fatalists, they be

lieved that achievement came only from the will of God,

and a man who had achieved much was beyond doubt fa

vored of God.

The kadi, El Fadil, was now administrator in general. New

figures appeared at Saladin s side a certain Hakhberi, an

old Arab jurist, and Aluh, the Eagle, who was poet, astrolo

ger, and debater in one. Saladin liked to listen to their talk.

But he was careful to send Turan Shah afield to search for a

38 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

place of safety into which they could retreat if the sultan

marched against them. Turan Shah rode up the Nile, only

to return disgusted with tales of half-naked blacks who

laughed when he spoke to them. He fared better when he

explored the Arabian desert.

But Saladin had no need of this pied a terre. Sturdy Ayoub

could counsel him no more the old Kurd, riding recklessly

through a gate of Cairo., was thrown from his horse and

killed. Amalric of Jerusalem followed him to the grave. And

in the act of preparing to invade Egypt, the sultan Nur ad

Din died.

This was in 1 174. The embryo empire of Damascus cracked

into fragments under the hands of the leading amirs of the

army. And Saladin, after a survey of the situation, took upon

himself the task of keeping the dominion intact, himself to

be the sultan. Undoubtedly he was the man most fit to suc

ceed Nur ad Din. And to this task he brought all his quiet

patience, as unbending as tempered steel.

VIII

THE PATH OF WAR

3r is clear that Saladin planned the jihad from the first

He knew that only in the jihad, the holy war, could he

unite the factions of the Near East. Turkoman, Kurd,

and Arab would follow the standards to war against the un

believers; the atabegs, of the north, the shaikhs of the

desert clans, and the amirs of Egypt .would ride to such a

summons given the sultan to lead them.

He wrote to the kalif of Baghdad, recalling the many times

in which he had opposed the crusaders, and pledging himself

to the holy war that would free Islam from the invaders.

He had already united Cairo to Baghdad; eventually he

would regain Jerusalem.

But twelve years passed before the victorious Kurd was

able to declare the jihad.

Twelve years of almost ceaseless campaigning and siege

and pacification. "Only a hand that can wield a sword may

hold the scepter," said the proverb of Islam. And Saladin

had need of all his tact and clear judgment to weld together

the fragments of Nur ad Din s dominion.

In this time he never rode willingly to war against Mos

lems, but he never failed to take up the sword when other

40 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

means failed. "Shed no useless blood/ he told his sons in a

later day, "for blood never sleeps. Win the affection of your

subjects."

Damascus opened its gates to him, but the atabegs of the

north deified him in his homeland, and the sultan of Mosul

in the east supported them. They were sturdy and fearless

the best of the Turkish horsemen. We find him surprised by

them in the prairies by the Horns of Hamah, and again

trouncing them in the red wheat fields within sight of Aleppo.

We see him throwing off the cloak of intrigue and openly

declaring himself sultan of Syria, The kalif acknowledged

him as sultan, and sent him the black war banners of Bagh

dad.

Meanwhile he roused against him a dangerous enemy,

In clearing out the underworld of Cairo, he annihilated the

lodge of the Ismailites, the free-thinkers who acknowledged

the authority of no sultan. When the Ismailites stirred up

the Sudanis to revolt, Saladin scattered the rebels and cruci

fied the leaders, nailing them to the city gates. This brought

down upon him the anger of the Assassins, and the order

went forth to slay him.

The first attempt failed, owing to the vigilance of his

guards. Saladin went his way undisturbed.

It was his custom to bar no one from his tent, and one day

he was visited by the veiled figure of a little girl, who revealed

herself as the daughter of Nur ad Din. Saladin greeted her

with his customary grave courtesy and asked what gift she

would have from him.

"The city of Ezaz!" she cried.

And the sultan bestowed upon her without hesitation a city

that had cost him a trying siege. Generosity was instinctive

with him, and a chronicler relates sadly that he would make

gifts of all the horses in his stables, until even the one he rode

was promised to someone else.

Here also Saladin, sitting alone in his tent, was visited by

other guests. Three Assassins gained the tent and flung them

selves at him. The rearmost of the three was swept from his

feet by the sword of an outer guard. The sultan warded off

the dagger of the first, and moved aside. A knife blade struck

THE PATH OF WAR 41

against the steel of his headpiece, wounding him slightly.

Before the drug-crazed youths could get in a deadlier blow,

the sultan s swordsmen were upon them. Thrown down and

disarmed, they were carried off to be tortured into confession

and then hewn apart.

"They were sent/ his soldiers told Saladin, "by the

Shaikh aljebai:^

This second attack was too much for the patience of the

sultan, or the endurance of his officers. The whole army was

mustered in ranks and every man who could not be vouched

for was dismissed. Then the army got into the saddle and

marched into the mountains of the Assassins, to the west of

Ousama s old home, between the long valley of Hamah and

the sea.

Here in the pine-darkened uplands the half-wild cattle

grazed among the sandstone ledges, and isolated on the

summits the castles of the shaikh loomed against the clouds.

Saladin s horsemen ravaged the valleys thoroughly, driving

off the cattle, and making their way down to the edge of the

foothills where stood a yellow castle with sixty-foot walls,

rising from an outcropping of solid rocks above the clay huts

of a village. This was Massiaf, the stronghold of the Assas

sins in Syria.

And the grand prior of the order in Syria was Ruckn ad

Din. It was said of him that he never left the walls of Massiaf

by day, and that he had the power of going and coming

through any obstacle. His followers believed that he was

more god than man, since he had never been known to eat,

drink, sleep, or spit.

The great stones of the castle, fitted together without

cement on the elevation of the rock, defied the sultan s siege

engines for a week. Accounts differ as to what happened then.

One version has it that Saladin awakened to find a dagger

thrust into the earth by him, and a scroll bearing this mes

sage:

" What thou possesses! shall escape thee In the end, and return

to Us.

nrhe master of the Assassins, called by the crusaders the Old Man of the Moun

tain.

42 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

" Know that We hold thee> and will keep thee until the account

be dosed"

Saladin s guards then surrounded his pavilion at night with

a solid ring of men, and scattered flour outside the tent cloth.

On the following morning the sultan was unharmed, and no

human visitor had been seen. But in the white flour lay the

mark of feet entering and leaving the tent feet that pointed

outward, coming and going.

By this time the sultan s officers were in a mood that

verged upon homicide and panic at once. They were not

reassured by a message sent down from Massiaf in quite an

earthly way, by a paper tied to an arrow,

" Knowest thou not that We go forth and return as before^ and

by no means mayest thou hinder C7>."

After that few slept the night in peace within the lines of

the sultan s army. Men whispered that Saladin would die if

he did not withdraw from Massiaf by the end of the week.

And, true to his promise, they beheld the master of Massiaf

depart from the castle in the night, through all of them.

A blue light glowed upon the dark battlements and de

scended to the rock, fading and springing up anew in another

place. Arrows were shot at it, and torches swung in vain.

Like a changing will-o -the-wisp, the blue light darted among

them and vanished at last toward the hills.

So runs the tale. All that is certain is that the grand prior

pledged Saladin immunity from the weapons of the Assassins,

and the sultan on his part withdrew from Massiaf at the

end of the week. Thereafter the men of the mountain did

not molest the sultan, nor did he invade their country

again.

Damascus saw in the son of Ayoub a protector and a

patron. The sultan had left El Fadil and Karakush in charge

of Egypt and spent much of his time in the gardens of the

river city, where the scholars flocked in a body to his sitting

place, and men rode in with petitions to offer. For the word

got about that Saladin would send no one away without a

gift. His officers defended him as best they could from the

beggars, but Saladin smiled.

THE PATH OF WAR 43

Once he noticed that his treasury was full, and ordered

Mukaddam the treasurer to give out money to the lords,

soldiers, and servants.

"I remember, O my Lord," Mukaddam observed, "when

Nur ad Din sat where you now sit, he also bade me empty

the coffers in gifts by fistfuls. Fill your hand/ he said. But

when I grasped the first fistful, he restrained me. So, if you

give do not give to all."

"Avarice," Saladin smiled, "is suitable in a merchant, not

a king. Give out the money with both fists."

When he was afield, Damascus listened to the tidings that

came in by camel rider and pigeon post. The city rejoiced

when Aleppo and the north yielded to him at last, and it

lamented loud when the sultan, crossing the lands of the

crusaders with his army, was assailed suddenly by the Chris

tian king while the men were getting over a stream. The brief

fight was deadly, and the Moslems, although much more

numerous, were broken by the charge of the mailed cavalry

only the devotion of his bodyguard saving the sultan, who

had to flee for hours at the full speed of his horse and make

his way back to Cairo in the rain and chill of winter.

It was a costly lesson, and Saladin did not venture again

impi-udently across the border. Damascus rejoiced when

word came in that he had avenged his defeat in battle with

the crusaders, taking seventy captives, among them some of

the great lords.

After this, in the year 1180, the sultan agreed to a truce

with the crusaders, while he arranged the affairs of his new

empire. He dreamed of a widespread peace between the

rulers of Islam himself and the sultan of Mosul and the

Seljuk sultan far to the north in Asia Minor. War, to him,

was a task that every ruler must undertake; but he had no

pleasure in war, and he looked ahead to a lasting peace.

To gain this, he meant to rally all his strength and move

against the Christian crusaders when the two years* truce

expired. He would drive them from the coast of Syria into

the sea and regain Jerusalem. This would be the jihad, the

holy war, and in it the men of Islam would find themselves

united.

44 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

During the Interval of quiet he assembled his forces. And

at this time, among the petitions that were pressed upon him

he found a salutation that was like a voice from the past

because it had been written by the aged hand of Ousama,

who had lost all his lands and lived now upon charity.

May Allah grant long life to our master Al Malik an Nasir Salah

ad Din, Sultan of Islam!

For his mercy made a way for me from the country where I lived

separated from him, no longer having fortune or children. He had

me brought to his noble court. In the greatness of his soul he raised

up the old man who, without him, would have been raised up by no

one.

Out of his generosity, he rewarded me for services to other princes

and so carefully did he take account of those services, he might

have been a witness of them. His gifts were sent to me, to my

house, while I slept, so that I need not rise to receive them. Now

have I honor again, that time had taken from me.

He, the sultan, has on his part restored the tradition of the great

sultans, and has built up the column of the dynasty. By his sword

the empire has become an impregnable fortress.

Glory be to Allah, Lord of the Two Worlds!

It was summer in Cairo, and the dust haze hung over the

gray river, when the sultan mounted his horse, and gave

the signal to lift the black banners. Ragged fakirs thronged

about his steel-clad mamluks, crying joyfully. And the mer

chants locked the bazaar gates to go and stare at the armed

men who were setting forth upon the jihad the Path of

God. They saw that a handsome Kurd, a nobleman, held

the stirrup of the sultan Al Adil the Just, the brother of

Saladin. Turan Shah lay in his grave, and Taki ad Din was

off in the north, gathering the contingents of war. Karakush,

disconsolate, came forward to kiss the stirrup and take his

leave for he would stay in Cairo, to raise the foundations

of the citadel now taking shape on the brown hill above

them.

The cool north wind breathed through the alleys and

stirred the black folds of the banner. The mamluks trotted

between the palaces, and drums echoed the murmur of the

THE PATH OF WAR 45

multitude. Saladin settled his yellow cloak upon his shoulders

and looked about him.

"O King/ voices cried, "O Bringer of Victory ... In your

shadow we live!"

A slender poet pushed his way to the sultan s stirrup, bent

his head and chanted a verse of salutation and leave-taking.

" Taste well the joy of the flower oj the Nejd" he sang. "For

after this night, no more will it flower for thee"

And the multitude was silent, hearing in these words an

omen, like the chill breath of the sea that crept into the

warmth of the sun.

EXILES

UN burned upon the gray stone roofs. The wind beat at

the stone walls, and the wind came from the desert.

In its dry touch lay fever and restlessness. It passed

over the city, over the hills of the Promised Land.

Men turned away from it, as if the desert wind had been

an enemy. The blood throbbed slow in their bodies and they

sought the shadows, away from the sun and the hot breath

of the sky. Only in the narrow Via Dolorosa some heedless

pilgrims knelt.

A horseman paced through the shadow of the covered

market street. He wore a long loose robe of white samite, and

a skull cap on his shaven crown; his rough beard fell to his

girdle, from which hung a long sword. On the breast of his

robe was embroidered the great red cross of the Temple.

A group of long-haired men-at-arms pushed past him, talking

loudly in Norman French and staring at the gold trinkets

in the booths. At a stand of perfumes a lady s page sniffed

and argued with an impassive Armenian over a copper coin.

Beside them a black-robed monk felt judiciously of a leg of

lamb and shook his head, while the bare-legged native boy

holding the basket behind him yawned.

4 6

EXILES

From a money changer s stall came a babble of voices,

Greek and Arabian, and the clink of gold coins being tested

by clever fingers. A cavalcade of black goats, on the way to

the Butchery, stopped to sample tempting sugar cane, and

galloped off under the legs of the Templar s charger, which

paid no heed to them.

Not until the shadows filled the streets of Jerusalem did

people venture out. Horsemen moved toward St. Anne s,

where by the sunken pool, under the sycamores, a wedding

party was assembling, and the bright satins of nobles mingled

with the softly gleaming silks of their ladies. They waited

by the dark green water that once an angel had troubled,

until bells chimed and a young girl passed between them,

her rigid head upholding a gold coronet, and her long train

of cloth-of-gold reflecting the last glow of the sun, raised

from the dust by the hands of solemn children. A turbaned

Moslem, a wayfarer from some unknown place, gazed at her

curiously, until she disappeared within the pointed arch of

the entrance. Bells chimed above the sycamores and the high

voices of children answered them. Alone by the water, the

wayfarer leaned on his staff, wondering perhaps at the strange

Nazarenes who never veiled the faces of their women.

Vesper bells rang out over the roofs from the tower by

the Sepulcher to the Basilica of Sion. Sheep crowded through

a narrow gate where spearmen idled. A boy passed among the

sheep, tugging at the hand of a bearded man, upon whose

shoulder lay the hand of another who led in turn a third and

fourth, their faces raised to the evening sky blind men

who had come to pray for a cure at the Rock of Calvary.

Not until the dusk deepened did the king come out upon

the open gallery of his manor, beside the Tower of David*

He was alone. And even so, he wore a veil over his head. He

moved like a man in pain, sitting upon a bench, his hands

hidden in his sleeves. Men waited within sound of his voice,

but he did not call them. For he was the son of Amalric,

Baldwin, by grace of God sixth king in the holy state of

Jerusalem. Young he was, and since childhood he had been

a leper.

4 8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Baldwin the Leper, they called him the last of the male

line of Godfrey and the first Baldwin. Valiant the spirit that

endured the growing pain, without respite or hope cherish

ing, like a dream, the memory of that day when he had been

still sightly, and had led out the Templars from Ascalon,

to fall upon the array of Saladin and drive the Moslems

before him. He had been sixteen, then. And^now, six years

later, he could not go to the wedding of his sister.

He would have no children. What then of Jerusalem? The

care of the future lay upon him, and his days were numbered.

For sixty and five years no foeman had dared march against

Jerusalem. The precious wood of the true cross rested within

its gold casing, safe in the sanctuary of the patriarch; the

crosses of pilgrims covered the rock of Calvary, where candles

burned by day and night, and the reading ^of the service of

the Lord went on without ceasing. Would it ever cease?

Baldwin had the pitilessly clear mind of the maimed. And

he loved Jerusalem. He knew every one of the gnarled olives

of Gethsemane, and the stones in the dry bed of Kedron;

he had watched the sunsets darken against the western height

while the bells tolled.

Jerusalem was still as it had been; the pilgrims thronged

with candles to the altars. But Baldwin dreaded the future,

and what might come to pass after his death. Why had the

great churches been so avid of land? They held fields and

villages, and every sacred place, and they drew tithes from

the men of the land, but they paid nothing in return. The

king himself had less than the abbot of Sion.

The pilgrims came, and prayed and went away. But the

lords of the Holy Land must protect Jerusalem, and last year

there had been a near-famine.

In Europe, so travelers said, they were building high cathe

drals, carrying stones on their backs by torchlight, while the

good people sang. The kings of Europe were growing in

power but where were they, and their men of arms ? They

did not come beyond the sea to aid the king of Jerusalem.

Why had the churches at home sent out guilty men, to do

penance by the voyage to Jerusalem? Criminals and felons,

adventurers and landless men came now beyond the sea.

EXILES 49

Italian merchants owned half the coast ports. All wore the

crusader s cross. But they did not come on crusade. Instead

they sought spiritual salvation, or profit for their purses.

And Baldwin, in his pain, was filled with a doubt and a

foreboding. He had ordered his sister Sibyl to marry, so

that there would be one to take his place upon the throne.

Alone he waited, listening to the distant bells. Alone, he

brooded, while the veils of darkness closed in upon the gallery

and its garden and his face that must never more be seen.

Spring came early to Galilee in that year of our Lord 1183.

Blue grass flowers covered the hollows, and the fishing boats

went out with their nets. Black cattle wandered down to

stand in the water and drink; white hibiscus bloomed in the

shelter of the walls. Light clouds drifted far up, above the

gleam of the lake sunk between the green heights.

To Raymond, third count of Tripoli and prince of Galilee,

it brought new care; for in that spring the truce with Saladin

expired, and Raymond was commander of the mailed host of

Jerusalem. He had come with his lady and his minstrels and

his knights to the great castle of Tiberias, above the shore of

the lake, the castle of black basalt seamed with cement.

An iron citadel, stretching forth its courtyards and towers,

down to the edge of the water where the fishing nets dried.

Raymond lingered at Tiberias, because here he could watch

the blue hills in the east, and the roads. Islam ruled the

East, and the road from Damascus wound south of the lake.

Over this road, guarded by Tiberias and the lofty castle, the

Star of the Winds, Moslem horsemen would ride before

long, he fancied.

His people had full joy of the green spring. Girls and es

quires rode afield, galloping over soft cotton fields, laughing

in the shade of the pomegranates, while troubadours sang the

new fable of Aucassin and Nicolette:

Nicolete o le gent cors,

Por vos sui venuz en bos . . .

They carried their falcons on embroidered gauntlets, over

the breasts of the hills, while men-at-arms clattered behind

5 o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

them. They rode under Tabor s round summit, seeking for

traces of fallow deer, while their dogs gave tongue. The

gray monks of Tabor looked down at them, and ragged

fellahis leaned on wooden hoes to watch. They were gay in

their long bright mantles, and they rode the Arab pacers with

a loose rein. For they were the youth of the land, the young

blood of Outremer. They had been weaned in Beyond the

Sea, where a dozen peoples served them. Merchants from

Baghdad brought them linen sewn with pearls, and jeweled

saddle cloths.

The hot sun had darkened their skin, but they cared not

for that. Among the girls were to be seen the brown eyes of

unknown Armenian mothers, and the broad, full cheeks of

other Greeks. But this was Beyond the Sea, not Normandy.

They had never seen the smoke-stained halls of Christen

dom, or the dark, damp woodlands where the sun was cold.

Embroidery stands, and dull Latin texts and heavy black

dresses would have amused them for they had scores of

Syrian girls to embroider for them, and courteous Arab

gentlemen to doctor them, and the wide fields to pleasure

them.

. . . Bel compaignet,

Dieus ait Aucassinet.

So the troubadours sang when the hunt was ended, and they

sat at meat on the terrace, outside the square castle keep.

Bright and fair was the starlight over Galilee. Raymond the

count sat in the high place, fondling the greyhound beside

him. The slim esquire leaned over his shoulder to fill the wine

goblet as soon as it was empty. He liked the strong red wine

of the country, or the full flavor of the Cyprus grapes. Greek

wines were better than mead or muddy ale. Impassive natives

held spluttering torches high, and the feasters could not see

the stars.

The elder ladies had been to the wedding at Jerusalem,

and had many a tale to tell. Who had ever heard of a wedding

in Paques, with barely a week s time to summon the nobility?

And in a small church instead of Sion ! The bride had entered

alone. Sibyl carried herself well no one could say nay to

EXILES 51

that. She had a man s daring, and Jaffa and Ascalon for a

dower. She knew her own mind although she had obeyed

the king, her brother.

fte Why had she made such a choice? With all the lords of

Outremer looking at her like amorous shepherds they did

hope to be the chosen one she took a newcomer for her

husband. A handsome fellow with an empty mind, a landless

knight of Poitou Guy, brother to Amalric of Lusignan who

is constable of Jerusalem, Amalric of Lusignan at least

had a sword; but Guy had only fine eyes and a manner. Was

it true that he had been banned from home for the slaying

of a duke?

Of course Guy had been devoted to the young countess, a

widow and comely. The women of Ascalon said that Sibyl

gave herself to him before now. She is young and most secre

tive.

And Amalric looked black as thunder. The poor king, of

course, is troubled, and would give much to undo what is

now done. . . .

So the talk ran on, for in Beyond the Sea it was a notable

event.

Raymond and his court sat long over their wine, in the

hot night when the torches had been sent away, and the

women had retired with their talk and their hidden fears.

So his ancestor, Raymond of Toulouse, had reveled in joyous

Provence a century ago, before the Provencals had taken the

cross and fared forth to Beyond the Sea. And the Provencal

men never loved brooding, or nagging cares. A song was bet

ter, wine was better.

For five years Raymond had been a captive of the Moslems,

and wine could not efface the memory of that. Raymond

hated inaction. He knew himself to be the most capable

leader of the mailed host of the Christians. He had the cour

age to strike, and the wisdom to avoid a trap and he knew

the Moslem method of fighting. But the Templars who held

the frontier castles disliked him, and now the sister of the

king had married a man who would be pushed forward by

his enemies.

He had feuds on his hands, with the reckless Reginald,

52 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

lord of Kerak, and the Templars. Here in the hot lands,

where the sun drained strength from them, the crusaders

turned to hazard and revelry to pass the long hours. Hard

riding and hard living shortened their years and tempers.

But they would rally, Raymond knew, to the king s summons

to war. If Baldwin had only been a whole man, or if Guy of

Lusignan had been a brave man!

What would Saladin do? Where would the wind blow next

or the wolves of Lebanon hunt? Raymond could do nothing

but wait, chained to his castle, pacing the rampart along the

lake, while his lady slept and the young girls and the esquires

dreamed of hunt and fable and shadow plays.

So there was no peace in the mind of Raymond, prince of

Galilee, who could not sleep in these fair nights of spring.

Tranquil were the waters of Galilee, and clear the star gleam

upon them. But over his head rose the mount with the ruins

of Herod s palace, above the caves where the hot sulphur

water trickled out of the ground. Beyond the broken palace

with the mosaic floors wound the road to Armageddon.

Raymond had emptied too many goblets in these hot

nights, and had looked too long into shadows. He, too, had his

dreams.

In the heights above the sunken lake a strange company

was gathering, to a ghostly trumpet call. Were there not

ghosts upon the ground of Armageddon? Surely the pavilions

of Holofernes swayed, when the desert wind breathed upon

the heights. The ghosts knew the death song of Saul, and

the rumbling chariot wheels of Pharaoh. They had heard the

thunder tread of the elephants of Antiocifius, and the steady

tramp of the mailed legions of Rome.

The road had known them all. And the beat of the hoofs

of the fierce horsemen out of Arabia. They were coming

again, these ghosts they were there now, waiting upon the

heights.

SALADIN PAYS A VISIT

rAT summer the worthy William, archbishop of Tyre,

wrote patiently in his chambers by the new cathedral

where the sea lapped ceaselessly against the walls.

Several pages he added to his Historia Rerum in Partibus

Transmarinus Gesfarum. He told how the Christian host

assembled slowly at the rendezvous near the village of

Saffuriya to meet the expected onset of Saladin, and how

Baldwin the king had himself carried thither.

It happened while our people waited at the wells of Saffuriya.

The king had a fever at Nazareth which grieved him much. Besides,

his leprosy so enfeebled him that his body could no longer aid him.

Sight left his eyes, and his hands and feet began to shred away. So

he could no longer govern the kingdom and attend to its needs.

Yet no one wished to bid him withdraw himself for, although

weak in body, he was great in courage and vigorous in enforcing

his will.

None the less when the fever gripped him so hard he made the

barons come before him, and named Guy of Lusignan, count of

Jaffa and of Ascalon, of whom I have spoken before who married

his sister he named him bailly 1 of the kingdom. But he insisted

^Governor.

54 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

that while he live, no one else should be crowned king, and he kept

for himself the city of Jerusalem.

Many were angered at this thing the king did, some because the

count was placed at the head of the lords of the land, others be

cause they despaired of the kingdom under his management.

Still others said that he would do well, and defend the kingdom.

Among the common people there was murmuring and complaint,

and a saying "Many men, many minds!"

This Guy began to act without wisdom and was very proud and

vainglorious of this bailly that he had; but he did not have long

joy of it, as you shall hear.

While this went on and the Christian host waited at the wells of

Saffiiriya, suddenly Saladin entered our lands with great companies

of his men, well mounted and armed. He passed below the sea of

Tiberias 1 into the plains of the Jordan and sent his foragers out on

all sides.

They came to Bethsan and found no one there. So they took all

the food and furnishings, then tore down the fort and went away.

Our barons heard where they were. Saddling their horses and

covering well their bodies with armor, the barons arranged them

selves for battle as had been agreed, and advanced with the true

Cross going before. If our Lord had not been angered at His people

for their sins our Christians would have made a great overthrow of

the enemy, for they had thirteen hundred knights and sergeants

well mounted. Of footmen there were fifteen thousand.

They passed the mountains where lies Nazareth, the city of our

Lord, and descended into a plain that was called in old time

Esdrelon, whence they hastened by rapid paces toward the well of

Tubania where Saladin was quartered with so many men that they

covered the whole country. They hoped to have a great contest with

the enemy, but Saladin broke camp and went away, and left them

the fountain. He waited, a thousand paces away.

One part of his horsemen arrived at Petit Gerin and took it by

force. Another sally of the Turks brought them to a castle called

Fprbelet, which they gained by force and took all that they found

within men, animals, and other things. The third company of

Saracens advanced directly toward the host of our men. They kept

so near to us that no one could go out upon the road for any need

without being slain. 2

iThe Lake of Galilee.

*Xhe army of Jerusalem had intrenched itself around the wells, lacking a leader

who could plan any course of action. It must be remembered that the Moslems

had perhaps six horsemen to one mounted crusader.

SALADIN PAYS A VISIT 55

Some of them climbed upon Mount Tabor and did that which

had not been done before; they demolished an abbey of the Greeks

who were of St. Helena, and took all that they found within. An

other company of Turks went off to the mountain where lies Naza

reth, and climbed to the heights from which they could look down

into the city below them. When the women and the children and

the weak people saw them so near a great many were frightened

and began to flee into the cathedral. The press was so great at the

entrance that some died there.

The host of our barons was so hemmed in on all sides by the

enemy that no one dared leave it, and no one could go to it with

provisions. From this it happened that a great famine began, and

many endured misery, especially the foot soldiers and the peasants

and the Genoese and Venetians and others from over the sea who

had left their ships in port and had come up to aid us, with the

pilgrims who were awaiting the October passage home.

When our barons saw the great suffering of the people, they took

counsel, and ordered the baillies in the neighboring castles to send

them in all the food that could be had. They did this willingly.

A large part of our knights went to escort the food. One party of

them foolishly wandered, and fell into the hands of the enemy.

These also had dire need of food, so that which they seized com

forted them the more.

It seemed to those of us who knew war that the Turks were well

on the way to suffer a great damage. But a hatred and a covert

envy came between the barons, who neglected the war. They had

such dislike of the count Guy of Jaffa, who was a stranger and

neither a wise man nor an able knight.

For eight whole days the Turks laid waste the land without hin

drance, while our men did nothing. On the eighth day Saladin led

his men back into their own land.

So William of Tyre wrote, and he did not add that for the

first time an army of crusaders had remained passive in the

presence of a weaker host of Moslems who had withdrawn

unmolested.

The discord in, the army convinced Baldwin, who had

wished to abdicate in favor of Guy, that he must find some

one else to take the reins of command. Pain-racked and soli

tary, he was still the king. He named Raymond of Galilee

regent of the kingdom, and called upon the patriarch of

Jerusalem to divorce Guy from his sister Sibyl.

56 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

This the patriarch would not do. Baldwin then cried that

he would summon Guy to trial for divorce, and when the

new count of Jaffa and Ascalon fled with his wife to his city

of Ascalon, the king had himself carried thither in a litter. .

But the gates of the city were closed against him by Guy s

order, and Baldwin, climbing from his litter in his gray robe

and veil, limped to the gate and beat upon it with his fists.

A voice called to him to go away, and the leper crawled back

to his litter. He could do no more.

William of Tyre censored the barons of the land with

harsh words. The men, he wrote, had become no better than

the infidels. "There is not a chaste woman in Palestine."

But the fault lay with the leaders, not with the men.

True, they had changed in the ninety years of their domin

ion. They had talked with the learned men of the Arabs; they

had lived within the throng of the priesthoods of elder Asia

the Nestorian hermits, and the silent Armenians, the Coptic

monks in their white cowls. Maronites and Jacobites had

come to pray at the Sepulcher once the way was clear.

The crusaders had learned that Antioch, not Rome, had

been Peter s city. They had wondered why the priests showed

them Calvary and the rock within the wall of Jerusalem, and

not upon a hill outside the walls. They had tilled the land of

Israel, to sow their barley and maize and lentils, and had

labored with the natives to ward off famine, while the

churches of the Holy Land lived upon the tithes they paid,

and the alms from Christendom. The churches, waxing

wealthy, had not the same influence as before.

William of Tyre knew that Heraclius, who was now patri

arch of Jerusalem, had a great treasure in his coffers, and a

hand greedy for gain. Heraclius was no scholar, and he was

given to lust, and men had made a song about his "Madam

Patriarch" who had been a tavern singer.

But these matters the good archbishop did not see fit to

write. He was well aware that the lands which did not belong

to the churches were passing little by little into the hands of

the great military orders, the Temple and the Hospital of

St. John. These servants of the Holy Land had become in a

way its masters. They held all the frontier castles except

SALADIN PAYS A VISIT 57

Tiberias and Kerak, and they were answerable only to the

pope, in Rome. Culprits against ecclesiastical law could take

refuge with them, and be safe.

With no able leader to meet the danger of a general Mos

lem war, the defense of Jerusalem rested upon the castles.

These, except for B any as, by the springs of the Jordan, and

Castle Jacob at a ford below Galilee, were intact. Some of

them had just been finished for the task of shaping the

great stones and hauling them to the heights took years.

And Saladin had stormed castle Jacob in a week.

The archbishop believed the castles would hold out. They

gripped the heights of the Holy Land, from Dan which was

Banyas below Beersheba. Their walls circled the towns.

Tyre itself was a citadel of the sea. These citadels lay within

a day s ride of each other some of them no more than walled

villages with a massive square tower, and others like the

great Krak of the Knights called the Flame of the Franks

by the Moslems circling, with huge double walls rising from

a great talus, the summit of a hill. Krak of the Knights was

the headquarters of the Hospitalers, up beyond Tripoli.

A thousand horses could be stabled in the corridors of the

inner work, and five thousand men could take shelter there.

Its round towers were citadels in themselves, with gates,

engines, covered passages, and lookouts a hundred feet in

the air. No siege machines could break through the sloping

talus built upon solid rock, and no siege towers could be ad

vanced to the walls because of the talus. The Hospitalers

had learned their art of fortification from the Byzantines,

and their Krak was twice the size of Coucy or Pierrefonds,

the largest castles of France.

Many of these citadels, standing like white monuments

upon the high crest of the ridges, could signal to the others

at night. All of them had water stored in cisterns, or a covered

way going down to a great reservoir. Unless surprised, they

would inevitably withstand a Moslem attack until the main

army of Jerusalem could come up to relieve them. For each

one had its scores or hundreds of men of arms, skilled in

raid br siege. And if the Moslems passed by the castles,

they must leave a greater force to watch the garrison.

58 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

No Moslem army would dare penetrate to Jerusalem leav

ing the network of castles intact behind it. Even Saladin, who

had struck glancing blows along the line from south to north,

could not hope to surprise the castles, which all had outpost

towers on the lower slopes, and guard posts along the roads.

William of Tyre wrote the last words in his history

troubled words. For Baldwin, the dying king, had asked him

for proof that life endured after death, and the shocked prelate

had replied with long and logical arguments* But Baldwin

had doubted, and so the leprosy had defied all the prayers of

the churchmen. And the archbishop William saw in the im

agined heresy of the knights the cause of the trouble that be

set Jerusalem the lack of sons in the royal line, and the

growing power of the Moslems. So the doctrine of his faith

had taught him to reason.

He put aside the parchment pages of his book, and said

farewell to Tyre. With other envoys he took ship for Christen

dom, to visit the courts of the kings of France and England,

to plead for aid for Jerusalem.

Beyond the blue haze of the gorge of the Dead Sea, beyond

the bare line of Moab s height, and far beyond sight of the

watchers in Jerusalem, lay the farthest castles. Kerak of the

Desert Stone of the Desert and the white walls of Mont

Real rising over the green of olive trees, and Ahamant stand

ing above the Valley of Moses.

Fertile was the earth here, with its groves of fig and pome

granate trees, and its shadowed springs. And the castles stood

guard at a kind of desert crossroads, where the Pilgrim Road

ran south toward Mecca, and the caravans from the east

turned off to go to Egypt. So these outpost castles had been

verily a stone in the throat of Islam. Nur ad Din gnawed at

them fretfully, and Saladin struck at them his swift, unseen

blows. But still they stood, and just now they housed a

wolf. The Arabs called him Arnat.

"Arnat was an old man most skilled in waging war, with

great fortitude of spirit/ they said.

In his youth, he had been Reginald of Chatillon-sur-Marne.

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SALADIN PAYS A VISIT 59

From there, he had followed the path of war with a heedless

daring of his own. Many a time had he awakened under a

burning roof, or set a torch to the roof beams of an enemy.

Faithless in most things, callous and indifferent to death, he

went his way in a grim fashion sword slayer, and brigand

when it suited him, with the single virtue of courage and

the gift of winning the loyalty of men. We first hear of him

stealing a bride and making himself lord of Antioch. But

Antioch, still splendid, had fallen under the influence of the

Byzantines, and when Reginald of Chatillon now of An

tioch attempted to seize the imperial island of Cyprus,

he was smitten down and forced to hold the bridle rein of a

Byzantine emperor. Then, in the Moslem war with Nur ad

Din, he was taken captive and held for fifteen years. When

the wolf became free at last, he was given the fief of the Stone

of the Desert, the barbican of the Holy Land and the point

of greatest danger.

Perhaps only Reginald, of all the souls of Christendom,

would have dared the unthinkable. No sooner had Saladin

announced the jihad than Reginald went off to attack

Mecca, to destroy the sanctuary of Islam.

He built ships on his mountain summit, in pieces, and

carried them on camel back, escorted by friendly and mysti

fied Arabs, across the sands to the northernmost point of the

Red Sea. He painted the galleys black and put them together

while he besieged the port of Aila; and his two galleys cruised

south, utterly unlooked for, down from one white-walled

sea village to another, taking rich spoil along the sea that

had been a Moslem lake for five hundred years and still is.

No chronicler has recorded the year-long jaunt of these

crusaders who appeared in their mantles and mail in the

track of Islam s pilgrims.

"It was like the coming of the last Judgment," an Arab

historian says. And for a space utter amazement paved the

way for the doomed men. They camped in mud villages

under palm groves, coming and going from their galleys while

the season s pilgrims scattered to the inland hills. Then

retribution overtook them. Saladin was in the far north,

60 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

but Al Adil, his brother, launched a fleet from the Egyptian

side, and pursued. How the battles were fought for long

weeks, we do not know.

Once the crusaders were within a day s march of the holy

city of Medina. And near there, they were cornered.

We pursued them, until not one of them was to be seen or heard

of. All that crowd of infidels was sent to hell. We made a hundred

and seventy prisoners.

At least two of the captives were sent to Mecca, to be slain

before a multitude on the day of sacrifice in the near-by hills.

Others were brought back in triumph to Cairo, bound upon

camels and donkeys, sitting face to tail.

The stories they told us of their hardships and exploits almost

burst our hearts with astonishment. . . . The sultan ordered all

of them to be beheaded. Not one man was left to relate again his

adventure or to point out to others the route of the Red Sea, that

impregnable barrier between the infidels and the sacred city.

But the Moslem chroniclers were mistaken. One man had

escaped, and Reginald of Kerak came back to his castle,

where he abode in quiet for a while, as a crippled wolf licks

his wounds.

His spirit had not altered, and he lost no time in raiding the

caravans that stole past his stronghold.

That year a wedding was held in the wolfs lair. The young

knight Humphrey of Toron son of the old Humphrey of

Toron, who gave the accolade of knighthood to Saladin, the

legends say, twenty years before at Alexandria took for his

bride Isabel, the younger sister of Baldwin the Leper. He

was a man of honor, born of the highest lineage of Jerusalem.

And she also was young and of a proud family. Only that

much is certain. Why they were married in that distant Stone

of the Desert, among the dour swordsmen of the lord of

Kerak, we do not know except that Humphrey was a

kinsman of the wolf of Kerak. Reginald summoned all the

minstrels from Beyond-Jordan, and killed a dozen sheep for

SALADIN PAYS A VISIT 61

the wedding feast. The Arabs of his village climbed to the

mountain, to watch the fires and to listen to the singing.

Before midnight the bride and the groom had been escorted

to the small tower in the center of the five-hundred-yard

enceinte when the darkness became alive with other sounds

the roaring of drums and the clashing of cymbals, the ringing

of steel against steel, and the battle shout " Yahla V Islam^

YaUa lIsIam!"

Saladin had come up, unseen during the feasting, to exact

retribution for the Mecca raid. His soldiers stormed the outer

wall, and drove the Christian swordsmen headlong through

the wide enclosure, past the magazine and reservoir to the

moat of the castle keep.

But the crippled wolf was not to be taken. Reginald and

the bulk of his men got across the drawbridge over the chasm

that divides the citadel from the outer work. Saladin stormed

the remainder of the enceinte and set up his siege engines

across the moat from the keep. But when he learned that he

had interrupted a wedding, and that the two lovers were

quartered in one of the towers of the keep, he ordered that

no stones be cast against their tower.

And Reginald sent out to him meat and wine from the

banquet board, and a message of regret that he had lacked

time to prepare more fitly for his distinguished, unbidden

guest.

Saladin s engineers settled down to work the engines and

pound at the isolated citadel. For a month or more Reginald

held good his keep until Raymond, his feudal enemy,

crossed the Jordan with the army of Jerusalem to his relief.

Then Saladin, who was not in strength, withdrew to the

north. But not before Raymond had come into his camp to

talk with him, and had agreed as the sultan also agreed

to a five-year truce.

The young prince of Galilee saw in the truce the best safe

guard of Jerusalem. Saladin wished it for a reason of his own.

He had subdued the restless north, but Mosul in the east

troubled him, and he had to keep Taki ad Din with an army

to safeguard Aleppo. This prevented him from using his full

strength against the crusaders, and he planned to extend his

62 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

rule over Mosul and the great mountain region of Irak before

making his real effort against the Christians. So he departed

from the frontier, early in the year 1184.

In the next year died Baldwin, king of Jerusalem, with

no one to succeed him.

A KING IS CROWNED

a year no one walked in the gallery, under the

Tower of David in Jerusalem. The crown of the king-

dom lay in the sanctuary of the patriarch, while

noblemen, priors, and grand masters came and went. And

the talk in hall and monastery grew hot and fierce. Many of

the peers claimed the regency for the young Raymond, while

others argued that he had made an unworthy truce with the

sultan.

The patriarch listened to them all, and especially to

De Riddeford, the master of the Temple. Sibyl had all

the pride of her birth, and a will that could overleap the

obstacle of a weak husband. She was the sister of the dead

king, and she claimed the throne by right by the old feudal

right.

Others opposed her, saying that Guy was not worthy

to wear the crown of Baldwin. Raymond of Galilee became

the leader of this party, who wished Isabel and Humphrey

of Toron to succeed to the throne. Many of the barons gave

allegiance to the young Isabel, but her husband respected the

64 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

old feudal right, and would make no move on his own behalf.

No one kept watch for Saladin, for the tale came down

from the north that he was sick unto death, and living or

not the pledge of his five-year truce would stand. Then

Reginald of Kerak rode in to Jerusalem, and armed Templars

sallied out from their quarters in the white palace that once

had been a mosque. A cavalcade of spears from Ascalon

entered the gates at night, and in the morning the gates of

the city were in the hands of Sibyl s supporters.

Heraclius, the patriarch, saw this, and agreed readily that

feudal right,, should be maintained. A procession formed

between curious throngs and climbed the narrow street to

the churche of the Sepulcher. The white surcoats of the

Temple and the gray coats-of-arms of Kerak surrounded the

pale Sibyl and the silent Guy, and the procession filed into

the door of the Sepulcher, into the deep shadows where can

dles flickered between marble columns, and black-clad priests

stood at the door of a closed tomb. By the altar Heraclius

in full robes lifted a vial of ointment and a crown, and his

voice echoed under the dome.

". . , Prelates, seigneurs, bourgeois, and you, the people

who are assembled in this place we make known to you

that we are here to crown queen the lady Sibyl, countess of

Jaffa and Ascalon, and we wish you to tell us if she is to be

truly the^queen of the kingdom."

Thrice the patriarch asked the question, and thrice the

murmured answer was "Yes." But when the ceremony

was at an end, and the time came for Sibyl to rise from her

knees, she lifted the crown from her head, and placed it upon

her husband s, saying, "Thus now do I, Sibyl, bestow upon

thee, my husband, the crown of the kingdom." And, taking

his hand, she led him to the high seat of the cathedral.

^ And Amalric, the constable, hearing of his brother s corona

tion, said, amazed, "Faith, if they have made him a king,

they should make me a god."

Isabel, the sister of Sibyl, cried out against it, but Hum

phrey of Toron, a good knight and a man of easy mind, would

take no stand in the matter, and men fell away from Ray

mond, who alone defied the authority of the new lord of

A KING IS CROWNED 65

Jerusalem. It was said that Raymond went then to Saladin

and did homage to the sultan.

Months passed, and Reginald of Kerak found the truce

irksome. Raymond had made the truce, not he, and the prince

of Galilee -was in disfavor. When the great Moslem caravan

from Cairo camped under his castle with its multitude of

slaves and tempting bales of goods, the master of Kerak

could not hold back his hand.

He led down his followers, and seized the caravan and held

it, in spite of Saladin J s instant message of protest, in which

the sultan claimed the caravan as his own, under the safe

guard of the truce. Reginald s answer was to sally out against

the long caravan of pilgrims coming back from Mecca, and

Saladin s patience snapped.

"If the Lord wills/ he cried, "I shall slay that man with

my own hand."

By now Saladin had recovered from his illness, and his

work beyond Mosul was done. For the first time he mustered

the levies of the far lands the distant Turkoman clans and

the Kurds of Irak.

"To fight for the cause of the Lord was with him a true

passion," his chronicler said. "He spoke of nothing else; he

thought of nothing but war and engines, and occupied him

self with nothing but his soldiers. He was content with the

shade of a single tent."

Something of his enthusiasm animated the new levies, who

marched with him down to the Jordan, while Taki ad Din,

with a corps of veteran cavalry, maneuvered about Antioch

to hold the Christian forces of that city aloof from the

gathering host of Jerusalem. Then, in June of the year 1187,

Taki ad Din hastened down to join his uncle, and the black

banners of the sultan crossed the Jordan at the ford just be

low the lake of Galilee. This time there would be no drawing

back, for Saladin was determined to break the strength of the

crusaders and drive them from the Holy Land.

It was the ban and the arriere ban the king s summons

for lord and vassal and peasantry, for the castle guards and

crews of the ships. They plodded along the roads toward

66 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Saffuriya. Gallants of Tripoli, adventurers from the sea, the

spears of Tyre, and the close-drawn ranks of the mailed

Templars young esquires from the halls, with flowers

in their mantles, and the memory of farewell smiles tugging

at their thoughts grim knights from the Watchers, and

brown, pagan Turcoples who wasted no thought on the

causes of war. Toward the meeting place they moved, through

the white dust of the dry season.

In the shade of the road shrines they sat by the wells; they

emerged from dry wadies, and filed out of cattle paths. They

slept in the churches or marched under the cool stars. Knights

of Jerusalem, escorting the gold standard of the cross, rode

by the black-garbed Hospitalers, climbing the slow road

around Carmel s height where the monks prayed, up to the

highlands, to Saffuriya where the wells were the last wells.

Beyond Saffuriya the bare plain rose to the hills of Galilee,

without river or well.

At the camp of Saffuriya the great lords waited in their

pavilions. Raymond found no sleep in the hot nights for

his wife and his castle of Tiberias lay down behind the hills

at the lake, where Moslem horsemen rode. Reginald of Kerak

chafed at the waiting. They had made up their quarrel at

the meeting place, for this was the rallying of the mailed

host in time of need, and personal quarrels must be put aside.

Humphrey of Toron was here, and the brave Balian d Ibelin,

with Amalric the Constable, and the quiet, stubborn officers

of the Temple.

The days passed and they waited, while scouts brought

in word of the Moslems. Saladin had led his last contingents

across the Jordan, and was camped along the heights by

Galilee, facing them, but fifteen miles away. Saladin had a

great host with him, twenty-five thousand horsemen, and

they were waiting also. Their pickets were within sight.

Saladin could not move upon Jerusalem while the Chris

tians watched at Saffuriya. He could not get past them, to

the coast. So the two armies rested, full in their strength,

alert and wary, while the days of June ended.

Then Saladin sent a division back, into the depths of the

lake shore, to attack Tiberias. The outer town was stormed

A KING IS CROWNED 67

in a day, and Raymond s wife with her scanty garrison

penned in the castle.

That night the lords of the Christian host gathered in the

pavilion of the king, to decide what they must do. Gravely

spoke De Riddeford, master of the Templars: "We can not,

in honor, hold back while the castle is taken, within our

reach."

Reginald of Kerak added his voice to the master s. They

looked then to the king. "I have no will to press the war,"

he said, with hesitation.

Raymond spoke then. "Can you not see what lies before

you? O my comrades, not little is the peril in which we stand

from this man Saladin."

And he explained that they would find no water in the

advance against the Moslems. It would be better to let Ti

berias fall, let his wife be taken, than to risk an advance.

If they held their ground, the Moslems must withdraw or

lose the advantage of position. Many agreed with him, while

the younger knights and the reckless lord of Kerak urged an

attack, reminding the council that Raymond had once made

a private treaty for peace with Saladin. In the end the council

decided not to march forward.

But that evening De Riddeford and Reginald of Kerak

went to the king s tent, and persuaded the irresolute Guy

to order an advance at dawn.

So the banners of the host moved out over the plain, and

the chivalry of Beyond the Sea went into battle for a point

of honor. 1

iThe Moslem chronicles relate that Saladin s amirs advised him at this time not to

risk a battle but to withdraw and lay waste the lands of the Christian lords until they

scattered. Saladin answered: "And when will such a gathering be gathered together

again in one place before us? Nay, be ready to lead your men. God will do what He

wills."

XII

HATTIN

rE Christian leaders marched at dawn, the second day

of July, hoping to reach the Moslem line at noon, and

break through before darkness. They knew the Mos

lems held the brow of the great descent toward Galilee, six

hundred feet below the level of the sea. If the Moslems could

be broken and thrown back, they would be hurled down the

descent upon the walls of Tiberias. As for the numbers of

the Moslems, the old wolf of Kerak laughed "The more

the wood the greater will be the fire."

The sun, however, held a fire of its own, and the marching

columns lagged. They were twenty thousand men of all

arms, and for the greater part experienced in war. They were

ready for battle. But most of them marched afoot, in mail

and carrying water. Under their feet the gray rock ledges

burned with the intolerable heat of the sky overhead, and

red dust choked their throats. Their feet climbed long slopes,

and stumbled down into brush-filled gullies. Although the

knights rode back to urge them on, they lagged.

When the sun went down they were still far from the

Moslem lines. The leaders called a halt and the men camped

HATTIN 69

and drank thirstily, and slept while mounted patrols watched.

But Raymond could not sleep, knowing that they had ven

tured too far, and yet not far enough. They could not turn

back, in the face of the Moslem horsemen; they had left the

springs of Saffuriya, and on the morrow they must reach

the water of Galilee.

"Lord, Lord!" he cried. "Already is the battle lost, and

we are dead men/

Before the first light the olifants sounded, the horses were

saddled, while the spearmen and archers looked to their

weapons and sought their ranks. As they pushed forward the

sun blazed red in their eyes, and when the heat struck into

their limbs they drank the last of their water, throwing away

the empty skins.

Ahead of them drums throbbed and cymbals clashed. They

saw dark masses of horsemen moving out to the flanks, under

the black banners and the green banners of Islam. The dry

earth burned their feet, and the chaff of trampled wheat

rose about them in the air that quivered with heat. Sweat

dried on their skin, and the iron weighed upon their shoulders.

The wild Arab clans surged through the veil of dust, and

the first arrows flashed while a roar of voices answered the

drums:

"Yahla IlslamYahla 7 Islam!"

The light of the sun glowed on the gold casing of the

cross, raised above their heads.

The sun set at last and dusk crept across the glare of the

sky. No wind breathed upon the dry breast of the earth, with

its trodden wheat and dusty, brittle tamarisks.

On knolls and rock ridges the crusaders sat or lay, without

light or water or food. A murmur went from mass to mass of

them, where hoarse voices whispered and cracked lips

prayed, and the wounded moaned in vain for water. The

saddles were not taken from the sweat-stained horses. Broken

spears lay upon the ground, and knights sat silent among

peasants.

They had fought through the day, knights and archers

and spearmen. They had moved forward a little. But they

70 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

had not broken the line of the Moslem horsemen. So they

waited in the hours of darkness by their dead, racked by

thirst and weariness and ebbing hope. The last of their

water was gone, and their leaders could do nothing more for

them.

"In that place," the Moslem chronicler says, "the Angels

of Death kept watch that night/*

Lights flickered and tossed around the mass of crusaders,

where the cavalry patrols hemmed them in. For Saladin had

extended his line to close them in. They heard the chanting

voices of the Koran readers, and the eager shouts of men who

had water to drink and hope for the morrow.

"Allaku akbarallah 7 allahu!"

With the dawn the Christians took up their weapons and

came on again. "They advanced/ the Moslem chronicler

adds, "as if driven toward certain death."

They did not move with raised lances and firm ranks, the

men on foot supporting the horsemen. Instead, they tram

pled through the dust clouds, pushing silently toward the

cool gorge of Galilee, clearly to be seen but beyond their

reach. For the fever of thirst raged in them, and on that

fourth day of July they fought like the specters of men,

toward the hope of water and life. The struggle raged in the

village of Loubiya under the rocky hillocks known as the

Horns of Hattin.

In this struggle, the foot became separated from the horse.

The knights, deprived of support, made vain charges into

the solid array of the Moslems, already tasting victory.

Horses fell under the deadly arrows, or sank exhausted, and

the chivalry of Jerusalem was forced to stand to defend itself,

drawing more and more into a dense circle, cut off from the

men-at-arms who scattered in groups on rising ground.

Only Raymond of Galilee was able to lead some scores of

riders in a desperate charge that broke through the Moslem

lines. He rode on a spent horse back to the coast.

By noon of this last day of the battle, the remaining lords

had gathered about the king and Reginald of Kerak on the

knolls of Hattin, where the gold cross gleamed. Surrounded

and ceaselessly beset by Saladin s cavalry, they held their

HATTIN 71

ground, wielding sword and battle ax, until the brush around

them was set on fire by the Moslems.

When the smoke thinned and drifted away, they threw

down their weapons, and sat down where they had stood,

without strength to do more. Their bleared eyes saw the

cross lowered by a Moslem hand.

"Of all who had come hither, only the captives were left

alive."

So the chivalry of Jerusalem came to its end, and the battle

of Hattin ceased.

Nothing remained of the army of the crusaders. 1 It had

been the ban and the arrfere ban. All the able-bodied strength

of their kingdom had marched out of Saffuriya, and had

ceased to be, there in the red fields above Galilee. Nothing

was left, except the dark bodies lying in clumps like fallen

stacks of wheat, while the Moslems stripped them of stained

and dusty weapons. Except the captives, in torn shirts and

bloodied leather jerkins, staring voicelessly at the Moslem

horsemen.

Perhaps a few scores of mounted Turcoples had found a

way from the battlefield, or some wearied stragglers still hid

in the gullies. Raymond reached his castle in Tripoli and

died there two weeks later of exhaustion and a broken heart.

That evening the last cavalry of Taki ad Din came in from

the pursuit, and dismounted in a tumult of rejoicing, where

the Turkish swordsmen were cutting the heads from the

Templars who had survived the battle some two hundred

of them. It was the rule of the Temple that no member of

the order might ransom himself. And the Moslems treated

them without mercy, except for the master, De Riddeford,

The grim warrior-monks knelt under the sword strokes

without protest or prayer for mercy. The law of Islam re

quired that before an unbeliever was put to death, he should

TOstorians, reading the pages of William of Tyre, have explained the disaster by

saying that these men of the army of Jerusalem were degenerates or weaklings com

pared to the earlier crusaders, and so were defeated where the others gained vic

tories. That is not so. These men did not lack courage, or experience. They were

badly led, and they were opposed by a united army of Islam superior in numbers,

and ably commanded by Saladin.

72 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

be offered the chance of acknowledging the faith of Mu

hammad, and if he accepted he should be spared. But the

Templars made no reply to the contemptuous question, and

the swords fell.

When the last wearer of the red cross lay on the ground,

Saladin rode to his camp where his servants were setting

up the great pavilions joyfully. He stopped where the kadis

were gathered about the gold casing of the cross, shining in

the torchlight. This was the emblem of the crusaders. It

had gone before them in battle from Ascalon to Hattin.

For nearly ninety years they had prevailed. Nur ad Din

had dreamed of their overthrow, but in two days Saladin

had put an end to them. What conqueror of Asia had tasted

such a victory? Not Xerxes and not Mahmoud. The Kurd

in Saladin exulted in the triumph of his clans; the scholar

in him pondered the meaning of the triumph; and the devout

spirit of the conqueror felt in this sudden, bewildering

achievement an omen of greater things. Unless God had

willed it, the fate of Hattin would not have befallen his ene

mies.

Before his tent Saladin listened to the exultation of his

officers. Courteous Adil, his brother, came forward to con

gratulate him; impetuous Taki ad Din chanted a song about

the battle, and the Arab chieftains beat their hands in re

sponse. Indeed and indeed, Saladin was the king, the Victory

Bringer.

What followed is related by the chronicler:

Saladin held an audience in the vestibule of his tent for it was

not yet put up. The warriors came to claim his favor, presenting

to him the prisoners they had made, and the chieftains they had

identified.

The tent was finally in order, and the sultan seated himself there

happily. He bade them bring in the king and his brother 1 and the

prince Arnat. Then he offered a sherbet of chilled rose water to the

king, who was overcome by thirst. He only drank a part, and offered

the goblet to the prince Arnat, The sultan said at once to the

*Guy and Amalric of Lusignan, who were the king and the constable of Jerusalem,

Arnat was Reginald of Kerak.

HATTIN 73

interpreter/ Remind the king that it is not I but he who gives drink

to this man/

For the sultan had adopted the praiseworthy and generous cus

tom of the nomads who granted life to a prisoner if he ate or drank

of that which belonged to them.

Then he gave order to lead the three to a place prepared for their

reception, and when they had eaten, he asked for them to be

brought in again. Only some servants were then with him. The king

he made to sit in the vestibule; he required the prince of Kerak to

come in, and after reminding him again of the words he had spoken,

he said, "I am he who will serve Muhammad against thee!"

He then inquired if the prince would embrace Islam, and on the

man s refusal, he drew his sword and struck him a blow which

severed the arm from the shoulder. At this the servitors sprang

upon the captive, and God sent his soul to hell.

They drew his body out, and cast it into the tent entrance. The

king, seeing in what fashion his comrade had been treated, believed

that he would be the second victim, and he shook in all his limbs.

But the sultan had him brought in and calmed his fears. "Kings,"

he said, "have not the habit of slaying kings, but that man yonder

had passed all limits."

XIII

JERUSALEM

HE citadel of Tiberias was surrendered by Raymond s

wife the next day, and Saladin placed his prisoners

under guard in that town. And he made ready to take

full advantage of the extraordinary situation.

His army was almost intact, the men eager to be led on.

Elsewhere the Christian strongholds were just beginning to

hear the terrible tidings of Hattin. More than that, the great

citadels were now held only by skeleton garrisons. Their

feudal lords almost without exception had been slain or

taken at Hattin. Saladin wasted not a day in deliberation.

He brought his army down to the coast, thus cutting the

lands of the crusaders in twain separating north from south.

He struck first at the strongest of the coast ports, Acre.

With what siege engines he had been able to carry on camel

and mule back, he prepared to attack the walls; but Acre,

with only a handful of soldiers, opened its gates and the sultan

was well pleased to grant it generous terms.

Then he divided his host since no army could possibly

be mustered to threaten the Moslems and sent the divisions

headlong over the country, under Al Adil, Taki ad Din, and

the other amirs. He himself cleared the mid-region between

FRONTI6R OF TH HOLY LAND

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7 6 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Acre and Galilee, taking possession of Haifa, Saffuriya,

Nazareth, and Caesarea to the south. Then he moved north,

and took the surrender of lofty Tibnin, while his advance

was preparing the siege of Beirut, at the foot of the red hills of

Lebanon. Sidon yielded to a passing summons, and Beirut

a walled city without a fortress surrendered after an eight

days siege.

Swiftly Saladin detached garrisons to hold the captured

places. The people of the towns he let go where they willed.

Without their fortresses the bulk of the Christians were

helpless, under the swords of his horsemen. His soldiers

snatched up all provisions and weapons and precious goods,

but the sultan would not delay for any seeking of spoil. He

wanted to add Tyre, lying behind its walls out in the sea

itself, to his conquests, but Jerusalem was his goal, and

thither he went on the heels of Malik Adil, who had stormed

Jaffa. Tyre could be attended to later.

By the last of July Saladin was camped in the sands before

the great wall of Ascalon, which had refused to surrender.

Ascalon, sheltered behind its twelve-foot curtains and square

towers, was the main port of the south, as Acre had been of

the center of the Holy Land. From it ran the caravan route to

Egypt. The Moslems called it the Bride of Syria, and

Saladin would not leave it unconquered. While he prepared

to besiege it, he sent for Guy of Lusignan, who had been its

lord.

When the captive king appeared, the sultan offered to

release him if he secured the surrender of the city. Guy was

led under the wall to talk to the garrison, but could not pre

vail upon the defenders to open their gates. So the Moslems

drew the siege lines tighter, and sent detachments to subdue

the country between there and Jerusalem.

Here the Christians still lingered in the little hill towns,

by their shrines and churches all of them who had not taken

refuge in Jerusalem. Down by the sea Gaza and Darum

yielded to the sultan s summons. Defense was hopeless, and

Ramlah gave up its keys, while the Moslem banners were

carried into the church over the tomb of St. George.

Within the foothills, the strong castle of Ibelin surrendered

JERUSALEM 77

after bargaining for the release of its beloved lord, young

Balian. Almost within sight of Jerusalem, the towns of the

monks yielded Bait-Jebrail, and Bait-Laim, that the cru

saders called Bethlehem* And, isolated, without hope of aid,

Ascalon asked for terms on the fourth of September.

In two months Saladin had swept through the whole of the

Holy Land that had taken the crusaders so many generations

of effort and bloodshed to subdue. True, in the east several

of the giants of the frontier still remained intact on their

heights. But the Moslems held all the country behind them,

and, cut off from the sea, their fate was only a matter of time.

They were summits that had escaped the sweep of the flood

and the men isolated within them could not venture out.

And Saladin s thoughts were bent on Jerusalem, where lay

the Al Aksa, the third sacred place of Islam, and the gray

rock from which Muhammad had ascended. Jerusalem

would be the fruit of his conquest the true reward of the

almost unbelievable good fortune that had befallen him.

On the twentieth of September his army camped on the

western height opposite the Gate of David.

A few days before, Balian d Ibelin had reined his horse

through the same gate. The young baron found himself the

only noble within the city of all those who had gone forth to

Hattin. The queen, Sibyl, waited there in the palace, with

her sister Isabel their quarrel forgotten in the calamity of

the kingdom. There too waited Heraclius and the abbots of

lost churches, with the refugees from a dozen towns. But no

knight skilled in arms until Balian came.

Anxious women thronged the narrow streets. Cattle

crowded the fields by the Butchery. Mules and led horses

filled the chambers under the Templars quarters, where the

chargers had been. Boys, gray priests, and Syrian Christians

long-robed merchants, haggard pilgrims, and voiceless

widows waited in the courtyard of the Sepulcher, while

prayers were uttered ceaselessly. Only a scattering of armed

men gathered on the tower summits, or walked moodily

through the alleys.

And they all besought Balian to take command of the de-

78 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

fense. They had not seen the red fields of Hattin. Their

thoughts could not grasp the reality that the armed host

did not exist any more. In some way a miracle would aid

them, and Jerusalem would not be taken from them, Balian

d Ibelin must show them how to defend the city!

He told them that he was no more than a prisoner released

on his oath never to bear arms against the sultan. He showed

them that he wore no sword. They pressed around him, and

would not leave him, and in the end he yielded to them. A

knight, raised to arms, could not stand apart while common

people fought.

All this he wrote in a despairing letter to Saladin, asking in

the same moment that the sultan would seek out and safe

guard his wife and children. In time the answer came, that

Saladin understood and would protect his family.

Meanwhile Balian did what he could. He assembled the

few score men trained in arms. He knighted, without cere

mony, some fifty youthful esquires and sergeants. With the

money of the churches he bought pikes and crossbows and

shields for the hundreds of peasants and pilgrims who were

able to handle them. He knew well enough that no miracle

would save the city by aid of such men, but he had cast in

his lot with them, and he did what he could. At least Jerusa

lem would not fall without a blow struck.

Meanwhile Saladin and his amirs had studied the western

wall, and found it too strong to be assailed. As the first cru

saders had done, eighty and eight years before, he moved his

camp to the high ground opposite the northeast angle of the

city. Here the siege engines were set up, and a barricade

raised along the ditch to protect the miners who set to work

to dig under the foundations of the wall.

The unskilled garrison had no proper engines to break

down the barricade, and their counter-mines fell in. They

manned the summit of the wall and plied their bows, but

the veteran mamluks and Turks made no attempt at first

to storm the gray stone rampart. Instead, the miners en

larged their tunnels, propping up the foundation of the city

wall as they dug beneath it until the props were burned and

a broad section of the wall cracked and fell in.

JERUSALEM 79

For this moment the Moslem swordsmen had waited, and

while the drums roared they swarmed up into the breach,

to be met by arrows and slingstones and javelins.

"I will take Jerusalem as the Christians took it," Saladin

had said, "sword in hand."

The Moslems gained the breach and held it, fortifying it

for their next effort. And that night a kind of miracle hap

pened. While the priests and women marched in procession

through the streets chanting the Miserere, the armed men,

led by the knights, surged out, with the battle cry of the

cross.

"God wills it."

They drove the besiegers from the breach, and when the

next day had passed with its din of weapons and outcry of

the wounded and the maddened men, they still held fast in

the breach, against the stones and shafts from the Moslem

engines.

And they sent out envoys to Saladin, saying in the exulta

tion of the hour that the men of Jerusalem had pledged them

selves not to survive the loss of the city. They would slaugh

ter the horses and cattle, and pile the furniture in the

churches. They would set torches to the wood and burn the

churches, with their altars and vestments and relics. Women

and children would be put to the sword, and then the men,

priests and warriors, would sally out to find death in their

turn.

While Saladin pondered their words, the patriarch Hera-

clius sought Balian d Ibelin within the city. "It is not well

to destroy ourselves thus," he said. "For every man of us

fifty women and children would be lost. Nay, it is better to

yield the city and betake ourselves to Christian soil."

Balian listened and talked with the leaders of the men.

The next day he went out under truce to confer with Saladin*

What the knight and the sultan said is not known. Both

were men of decision and they knew the plight of Jerusalem.

The enlightened Moslem had no wish to lay the city in ruins,

and he agreed to allow all the inhabitants to depart with

arms and all possessions except money that they could take

with them. But they must ransom themselves, paying ten

80 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

pieces of gold for every man, five for a woman, and one for a

child. He agreed to conduct them to the coast ports.

And Balian, who could not have hoped for such leniency,

accepted the terms.

The next days saw a strange sight. All the gates remained

closed except the Gate of David. From this a ceaseless caval

cade passed out. Women, in traveling cloaks, laden with

bundles, rode forth with their children, while servants

dragged cattle and herded sheep beside them. Sallow Ar

menians rode out on donkeys, followed by their women.

Barefoot monks came out, with lowered heads, marching

after their superiors. Behind them the bells of the Sepulcher

were tolling.

The men of Jerusalem came forth seneschal and hermit,

lord and beggar and peasant. Among her ladies, veiled before

the insolent eyes of the Moslem warriors, Sibyl the queen

appeared, with her sister and the widows of Hattin. Some

went down the road silent in their pride, but others sought

the sultan in a throng and fell on their knees to beseech that

their husbands, the captives of Hattin, be released. A strange

sight the noblewomen of Outremer kneeling before a sultan

of Islam. They did not beg in vain, for Saladin granted their

plea.

All of them paid their ransom coins to the watchful of

ficers, and Saladin, when the money was brought to him,

gave it out to the Moslem soldiers.

The black robes of the sad monks filed past him, and the

gray habits of the Augustinians. The patriarch Heraclius

went out, with his private treasure hidden in the sacks upon

his beasts. He carried out gold, although thousands of the

poor remained weeping in the city. It was Saladin who re

leased them and who forbade his men to lay hand on the

property of the patriarch by announcing that those who had

no money might pass out by the postern of St. Lazarus.

So the last of the exodus began, and the people of the

alleys, with their rags and their sick and clinging children,

passed across the stones of the Sepulcher courtyard, looking

up at the silent bell tower and the arched gateways with their

familiar stone figures. They looked back at the dome of the

JERUSALEM 81

Temple of the Lord, and as they left the gate, their hands

touched helplessly the gray stones.

Upon the road they stood without knowing what else to do,

until detachments of Moslem cavalry formed them into par

ties and set out with them toward the coast. No miracle had

saved the city, but a strange thing had happened. For the

Moslems had taken possession of it without blood being

shed. And this had been brought about by Saladin s mercy.

On the hill beyond the gate the people of Jerusalem saw

dark figures climb to the dome of the Sepulcher and wrench

from it the great gilt cross, casting it down to the ground.

A shout rose and swelled as surf beats against the rocks

of a shore.

" Allahu-akbar allah 7 allahu!"

It seemed to the world of Islam a portent and a sign from

the Lord. Hattin had ceased upon a Friday, and Jerusalem

had fallen upon a Friday while the true believers prayed.

Couriers rode to the distant lands, crying out their message:

"The praise to God, who hath overturned the pride of the

Nazarenes by the sword of the king, the Victory Bringer!"

Already the learned men of Damascus and Cairo were

assembling, with the kadis and the readers of the Law, to

make the first pilgrimage to Al Kuds The Holy. For that

was their name for Jerusalem.

The men of letters wrote a paean of victory, and people

made a song of the downfall of the Christians:

Their city!

Fallen is their city, into the hands of the true friends of the Lord.

Fearful is their spirit, beholding before them only the Sword and the

fire of Purgatory!

On the Temple enclosure thousands of hands were laboring

at the Al Aksa mosque that had been for so long the palace

of the Templars. The walled-up prayer niches were opened

again, and the altar torn from the chapel. Mosaics upon the

walls were whitewashed, and the heads smashed from marble

images since Muhammad had forbidden the worship of

images. The stones were washed, and sprinkled with rose-

82 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

water. And in the corner toward Mecca a slender pulpit of

carved wood was placed.

This had been fashioned by order of Nur ad Din, to be

kept until it could be placed in the Holy City. And Saladin,

remembering it, had sent for it from Aleppo. Around it clean

prayer carpets were spread, and men hastened to wash their

feet and kneel in this sanctuary redeemed from the infidels,

while the caller-to-prayer ascended the bell tower from which

the bells had been thrown.

Swarthy faces were lifted reverently, when the chant of

the muezzin sounded over the roofs. Mailed figures gathered,

shoulder to shoulder, and brother smiled at brother.

Dawn that has cast its shadows upon the unbelievers,

Shrouding them in eternal night!

Dawn that has brought new life to Is/am,

Shedding the radiance of everlasting day!

PART II

A SHIP sailed into the west. A black sail hung upon

the mast. Swift winds drove it over the deep water.

In the drowsy ports, it left a message behind it.

"Woe to Christendom! Jerusalem hath fallen.

The Cross is lost and the host of the Cross is slain"

Upon the roads of the west the message went forth;

swift horses clattered over bridges and over the sleepy

autumn fields. Past hostel and hall the hoof-beat

thundered.

Mien gathered at crossroads, and before cathedral

doors. In the twilight, over barren fields they came,

to the lights of tavern and castle. In the darkness

voices murmured, while the bells of the abbeys

tolled and clanged. Woe to Christendom, to the way

ward, the sinning. Woe to them who had lost Jerusa

lem, the glory of the world.

Beyond the sea the host of Anti-Christ had risen

up; the banners of Satan had come out of the east,

and the horsemen of Mahound had trampled the

Holy City.

The voices murmured where the men gathered,

and out of the voices grew other sounds, with the hush

of prayers half said, of restless horses saddled, and

unsheathing of sword blades and lifting of silent

trumpets sounds like the breaking of thunder far

off, or the surging of surf against rocks. It was the

voice of a multitude^ rising over the lands, and it did

not cease.

XIV

THE ARMY OF ISLAM

UHA AD DINT was in search of a new patron. He had

several gifts to offer. The whole of the Koran he knew

by heart; moreover he could quote it on all occasions*

Having been minister of Mosul, he could write messages of

state perfectly, in a beautifully ornate style.

He was in the prime of life and his manners were beyond

reproach. He wore a fur-trimmed khalat, with numerous

undervests, suitable to the dignity of a kadi. A constant

cough troubled him, and his legs failed him at times, but

he had a good saddle donkey and a nimble mind. He wished

for Saladin, for a patron having negotiated in the past

with the sultan on behalf of the princes of Mosul, and since

Mosul was now at peace with the lord of Damascus, Baha ad

Din sought his patron-to-be, with a propitiatory offering of a

lengthy treatise on all the traditions of holy wars in the past.

Looking for Saladin in Damascus, in this spring of the

year 1188, he did not find him. Saladin was afield again, up

in the hills, with his household army. Thither went Baha ad

Din on his donkey, and at the camp he sent in his treatise,

and waited.

86 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

A mamluk bade him come to the sultan s pavilion, and

the worthy kadi dismounted from his donkey where guards

in yellow cloaks stood by their horses. Behind them baggage

in hemp sacks and leather valises was piled, and bearded

Arab servants ran about like laden ants. A dozen pavilions

of heavy orange cloth, stained by sun and wind, sheltered a

large official family giant mamluk couriers, and tall secre

taries who walked with a swordsman s swagger, elderly

men in lawyers turbans, and men with the brooding eyes

of ascetics. Between the pavilion ropes sat, in voluminous

robes, harsh-featured shaikhs from the desert clans, watching

all that went on with shrewd eyes. White turban cloths of

pilgrims nodded beside the green turbans of sayyids who

boasted in full voices of the blood of Muhammad s descend

ants in their veins. Amirs in velvet kaftans and cloth-of-

silver girdles stood impatiently awaiting an audience, while

slaves bearing trays of fruit and sherbet hastened among

them.

Baha ad Din knew many of the faces young Aluh the

Eagle, who made poems out of victories, and Imad ad Din,

the great chancellor. He saw all kinds of men coming and

going with petitions, heard them argue with harassed officers

of the treasury. A noisy concourse, speaking all the tongues

of Islam, restless and expectant, and thronging about the

sitting place of the Victory Bringer. A mighty family, quar

reling about trifles, as children quarrel, and waiting for fresh

surprises and undertakings.

When his turn came, Baha ad Din was escorted into the

vestibule. Here sat Turkish mamluks, beside hooded falcons

on their perches. An old mamluk, sword bearer of the sultan,

stood guard over Saladin s mail and the pointed helmet

inlaid with gold arabesques. Another swordsman held back

the entrance curtain for the visiting kadi, who put off his

slippers and went forward over rich carpets. Reaching the

massive tent pole, he dropped to his knees to touch his fore

head to the ground, saying, "May God grant thee health,

O King and Victory Bringer!"

"And upon thee, O Kadi, be the peace,"

Saladin sat in the shadow of a small awning, with only a

THE ARMY OF ISLAM 87

physician and a cup bearer attending him. His thin face was

darker than the short beard, already turning gray. Years of

campaigning and sickness had taken toll from his body.

His full brown eyes looked directly at Baha ad Din.

On his knees he had the bound pages of the kadi s book

of the holy war, and of this he spoke asking simple ques

tions and listening with courteous pleasure to the answers

of the learned man. They talked of the campaigns of Muawia

and Khalid in the lifetime of the prophet, and of the meaning

of the Path of God. Saladin sent his cup bearer for fruit and

sherbet he drank no wine and so made Baha ad Din a

guest of his tent. And while he talked he paid no heed to the

din of voices outside the tent,

In this way began a friendship that lasted until the grave

separated them. Baha ad Din had found his patron indeed,

In his sultan he beheld a man patient and painstaking, slow

to make decisions, but inflexible in will. A man whose quie

tude was a mask for a fiery passion.

Baha ad Din understood the spirit that could rally ten

thousand men to a bloody charge, and in the next hour pore

over the accounts of a common soldier to make certain that

every dinar of the account was paid. Saladin obeyed literally

the law of Islam; he gave his possessions to those who served

him; he fought for the faith. His spoken word was inviolate,

in all circumstances.

Ailing in body, he forced himself to endure the hardships

of campaigning that tried the strength of healthy men. Un

able to bear arms in battle, he haunted the front line of

battle. The fear that he might, somewhere, fail in leadership

troubled him. He was fifty-one years of age, and the fire

that burned within him wasted him at the same time. Only

in the talk of men like Baha ad Din and in listening to the

reading of the Koran did he find respite. There was one

small boy whose reading pleased him especially and he kept

this boy near him at all times.

To the warriors of Islam he seemed to be an alchemist, at

whose touch victory came to them. But the observant Baha

ad Din saw how Saladin s steel-like will held together the

restless masses of men and gained the victories.

88 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

In the last autumn, after the fall of Jerusalem, Saladin

had led the army back to Tyre, saying, "Only this place,

Tyre, remains to the Franks on the shore. Here they can

rest. If we take this, they will despair and we shall be safe/

During the siege of Jerusalem, however, two things had

happened. A new leader had appeared among the crusaders,

sailing down from Constantinople, and putting in at Tyre

when he found Acre held by the Moslems the silent bells

and the disordered shipping at Acre arousing his suspicions.

"For," said Baha ad Din, "he was cunning as a wolf, and

redoubtable in war."

He was Conrad, son of the marquis of Montserrat. And

he had taken command at Tyre, strengthening the fortifica

tions and digging a wide ditch across the great mole that

joined the city to the shore.

Also, men had come to Tyre from the other places that sur

rendered to Saladin, who allowed the garrisons to depart

unharmed if they made terms. This policy of mercy had re

sulted in quick surrenders of the castles which might other

wise have been held to the last but it had enabled Conrad

to muster a strong force in Tyre.

And the great ramparts had withstood the battering of

the Moslem engines, until the rains had come in December

and Conrad s galleys had sunk five of the Egyptian ships

blockading the port. By then Saladin s amirs had become

discouraged. They had longed to go home with their spoil for

the winter months, and the spring planting customary with

the Moslem troops. They had fought without respite for

more than a year and Saladin had given them leave to go,

against his better judgment.

He had dismantled his engines, and retired to Damascus,

only to take the field again in the spring to menace the

castle called the Star of the Winds, and to press north toward

Tripoli with his household troops. These were the veteran

mamluks of Cairo, and the clans in his own pay. The regular

army, as it might be called, included also the warriors in the

pay of the treasury, Turks for the most part.

The greater part of his host was made up of the contingents

led in by the princes of outlying places the African coast,

THE ARMY OF ISLAM 89

Irak and the Aleppo, Mosul, and Hamah regions. These,

as well as the roving Arab and Turkoman clans who served

for the pleasure of fighting and the chance of plunder, could

only be called forth after the crops were planted. So, in June

of the year 88, Saladin had less than half his. host assem

bled, and contented himself with, raiding the districts of

Tripoli, without assaulting the mighty Krak des Chevaliers

that crowned the hills of the Tripoli road and was the key to

that city. From the double ramparts of the Krak, the black-

robed Hospitalers looked down on his tents die fortress

was their headquarters. They had not suffered as much as

the Templars at Hattin, but they did not dream of taking the

field against the sultan, even when the first fleet bearing

crusaders from over the sea arrived off Tripoli, under com

mand of William of Sicily.

And Saladin made one of the sudden moves that left his

enemies bewildered. Turning his back on Tripoli and the mid-

section of the crusaders lands, he hastened out to the coast

toward the city of Tortosa, held by the Templars.

Coming within sight of Tortosa, his men put on their armor

before the tents were up. "God willing/ the sultan said, "we

shall dine in the citadel this evening." They stormed the low

ramparts, sweeping over them in the first fierce rush. And

the servants who had been putting the camp in order left

their work to join in the pillaging. The little cathedral of

Our Lady of Tortosa was devastated, and the camp set up

anew within the walls.

North of the sands of Tortosa lay the rich hill country of

Antioch that had suffered not at all from the disaster in the

south. Saladin hastened through it as a reaper strides through

a field of ripe wheat Baha ad Din and the learned men had

to keep pace with the horses for the sultan took all his great

family along. They rode with the baggage, in the dust by the

endless strings of camels laden with tents and grain and the

parts of the siege engines. Before sunset they halted by

streams or wells, in the cool breeze from the sea, while the

animals were turned out to graze, and cavalry pickets went

to the heights around them.

Such marches were an old story to them. Rice or barley

9 o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

boiled with mutton sufficed them for a cooked meal, with the

fruit of the country, and they slept on quilts or robes spreac

in the sand. After the last prayer, while fires still blazed and

torches came and went, they sat together in talk or listened

to the wailing song of dervishes, and still they were up and

saddling their beasts before the first warmth of sunrise.

It was a fertile country, with figs and grapes to be plucked

and sheep to be driven in. They took the citadels almost in

their stride for now they were beyond the nests of the stub

born Templars and Hospitalers, and the men who faced

them fought without hope. They carried Jebala in a day, and

mocked the garrison that trooped away without its arms.

The fair city of Laodicea with its two castles by the sea

yielded in seven days, and the army took from it a new stock

of grain and animals and gold and silver.

Late in July, Saladin turned inland, climbing to the lofty

Sahyoun, and carrying the village in the first rush. His

soldiers ate the midday meal the Christians had abandoned

in the cooking pots. A few days later the citadel on the preci

pice yielded to his engines.

Bika followed Sahyoun, and Saladin s advance halted

before Borzia, overlooking the great inland river Orontes.

Saladin ordered his men to attack without respite, in three

reliefs, and the Moslems climbed the almost unclimbable

walls, sending the castellan and his kin to tell the news to

Antioch.

Down from the hills they swept, across the Iron Bridge,

and early in September Turbessel and Bagras fell to them

after a sturdy resistance, "I saw," said Baha ad Din, "how

when one Christian fell dead in the ranks another took his

place. They held together, immovable as a wall/

But they did not attempt to take Antioch, where the re

maining Christians had gathered. Saladin looked from a dis

tance at the immense gray ramparts of the northern strong

hold, and agreed to withdraw if all Moslem captives were

yielded up to him. He had taken possession of the surround

ing country, and drawn the teeth of Antioch. His garrisons

were posted now from Aleppo to the ranges of the Taurus,

and he did not wish to waste men in a long siege. Back to

THE ARMY OF ISLAM 91

Damascus he marched, down the broad inland valley, and

the lords of Moslem Hamah and Horns vied in entertaining

him.

Saladin was urged to disband his army and rest, in the holy

month of Ramadan. "Life is short, and fate is uncertain/

he said, and took the field again. This time he struck at the

obstinate south, at Safed in the hills above Tiberias. Arriving

under its walls in the evening, he rode off to inspect it, and

ordered siege engines to be set up at one place.

"I shall not sleep until these five mangonels are in place."

Safed fell. And Saladin moved on, to the Star of the Winds,

overhanging the dark gorge of the Jordan. Rains made the

slippery hill summit a mass of mud, and winds chilled the

laboring men. The sultan fasted with them since this was

Ramadan and moved his tent so close to the wall that

arrows and bolts fell into it. He would not withdraw and his

mamluks worked in a frenzy to take the castle and so to put

an end to the missiles. Covering the ramparts with a steady

barrage of arrows and shafts from the steel arbalests, they

drove the Christian bowmen back, and mined the wall.

"Rain fell without ceasing," Baha ad Din says with feeling,

" and it was as hard to walk in the mud afoot as on a horse.

We suffered from the wind."

On the fifth of January, 1189, the Star of the Winds sur

rendered. And the Moslems rejoiced to a man. Before then

they had heard that the great Kerak had fallen to another

army the black banners stood over the stronghold of the

old wolf of Kerak, and the caravans could go along the pil

grim road in peace.

Then Saladin consented to allow his men to rest. Except

for the Tripoli region, only Tyre and its supporting castle of

Belfort remained to menace him. And the task of rebuilding

the damaged strongholds and inspecting the garrisons con

fronted him. After a visit to Jerusalem and a few days prayer

in the Al Aksa mosque, he took to the road again with his

household troops.

Baha ad Din, now kadi of the army, went with him, but

the donkey of other years had been exchanged for a horse.

And the worthy counselor labored as he had never done be-

92 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

fore. Once he rode out alone with the sultan by the sea, and

Saladin, after a silence of meditation, faced the waters.

"InshaUah? he said. "If God wills, the infidels shall be

driven into the sea. Then I shall follow them, and in other

lands carry on the conquest that is ordained."

Baha ad Din, who had in common with men of the hills

a dread of setting foot on a ship, began to be afraid.

"That assuredly might be done," he responded. "Let thine

amirs lead the army over the sea, to what is ordained. But

thou, O my lord, art the staff and the prop of Islam. Do not

venture thy life upon the waters."

Saladin reflected. "Tell me this," he responded. "What

manner of death is most to be desired?"

"Verily, the death of a martyr in the holy war is beyond

all things to be sought."

The sultan nodded assent. "And so do I seek it."

Over the sea, many sails moved toward the east.

Gray sails clustered like gulls upon the blue waters.

Long oars flashed in the sun, over the sea border

into the east.

Upon the highways heavy horses paced. Shield

and spear and gray mail carried the riders. For the

iron men were riding again they were marching to

the east.

With uplifted crucifix the Hack priests rode.

Through the long valleys tossed the standards of

the kings. Between the hills resounded the olifants

of the princes and barons. From the snows of the

North the weapon men were marching, toward the

sun above Jerusalem. The host of Christendom was

taking up its arms, to aid the Holy City. "Aid for

Jerusalem" the black priests cried. "Strike down

the horns of Mahound, and the claws of Dracon!

Seek salvation in the city of the Lord."

They were passing down the Danube and through

the ports of Sicily; they were thronging toward the

border, to set Jerusalem free.

THE GATHERING STORM

3 MAD AD DIN and Baha ad Din found interesting letters

passing under their hands. Their master Saladin had

become the most powerful prince in near-Asia. Of

course Kilidj Arslan, off in Asia Minor, still defied him, but

after an overthrow in the field could no longer challenge him.

And the king of the Armenians, clinging like an eagle to his

mountain nests, yielded to Taki ad Din s cavalry. Envoys

came frequently from Baghdad, where the kalif had adopted

Saladin as his providential protector. And finally the rich

and anxious emperor in Constantinople sent ambassadors to

the moving court of the sultan, to present a missive of con

gratulation stamped with an image of pure and heavy gold.

And the emperor, Isaac the Angel, asked for an alliance.

To this missive the intelligent Arabs paid little heed, but

the emperor Isaac offered to build new mosques for them in

Constantinople, requesting them to send up the proper

readers and holy men to serve the mosques. It pleased Saladin

that his muezzins should call to prayers in the foremost city

of Christendom.

A letter came in from a greater man, Friedrich Barbarossa

Frederick the Red Beard by divine mercy emperor of

94 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the Romans, and Augustus, and lord of all the German

states and principalities. The Arab counselors puzzled over

the strange names in the letter Bavaria, Swabia, Saxony,

Franconia, Thuringia, Westphalia. And the names of other

men who served the emperor Lorrainers, Burgundians,

Swiss, Frisians, Italians, Austrians, and Illyrians.

The emperor threatened that if Jerusalem were not sur

rendered, he would come against the Moslems with all this

host. "Take warning by Pharaoh, and yield Jerusalem."

The Arabs knew very well who Barbarossa was the chief

sultan of the Franks, and the defender of Christendom. They

knew it because Isaac the Angel, who feared Barbarossa,

sent them these tidings, with appeals for aid. Saladin him

self answered Barbarossa.

"All that remains/ he said, "for us to do is to take Tyre,

Tripoli, and Antioch."

If, however, these cities were evacuated in peace by the

Christians, he offered to return the cross, release all captives,

and allow one priest to serve the altar of the Sepulcher. He

promised as well to permit the monks to return to the monas

teries they had held before the first Moslem conquest. Pil

grims to the Sepulcher might come and go in peace. In his

letter Saladin signed himself Guardian of the Two Noble

Sanctuaries.

The terms, from Saladin s point of view, were fair. Barbar-

rossa would not have them, and the Moslems heard that he

had set out upon the crusade in the spring of that year, 1 1 89.

More than that, Isaac the Angel wrote that the old emperor

led a host of a hundred thousand men-at-arms, and that the

duke of Austria was preparing to follow him. The French,

also, were mustering for the road, and their young king

Philip II, Augustus, had taken the cross with the king of

England from the hand of William, archbishop of Tyre.

Meanwhile the Venetian merchants who were trying to

preserve their trading posts in the captured areas brought

other tidings to the court at Cairo. The fleet of Norman

Sicily was anchored off the port of Tripoli, while the ships of

Pisa were already under way. And the sails of the northmen

had been seen off the coast of Granada.

THE GATHERING STORM 95

Saladin listened to the tidings, and sent couriers to Bagh

dad to relate to the kalif what was preparing. By pigeon

post and camel back he sent orders to all his Moslem vassals

to join him in the Holy Land. He commanded Karakush

to muster the forces of Egypt and hold them in readiness.

Watching the gathering storm, he knew that this would be

the real war. The Christian forces he had defeated in the

last two years had been no more than a fragment of these

new armies. The kings and princes of Frankland would merge

their men in a mighty host, greater than his own. Perhaps

he might face a quarter million of fresh foemen, under new

leaders. And he had never had fifty thousand warriors under

his banners at the same time.

On the sea, also, his Egyptian fleet would be confronted by

a greater armament, and he must be prepared to see the

Christians victorious on the water. They could, accordingly,

land at whatever point they wished while Barbarossa

marched down through Asia Minor and the mountain passes.

This would be, he understood, a new kind of war. The

armed hosts of Europe would converge on his coasts. It

would be a duel between the resources and the weapons of

the West, against the horsemen of the East, under his

command.

And he had little time to prepare. He could not await the

coming of all the Moslem clans, scattered from the upper

Nile to the mountains of Persia. Yet, before the Christian

armies set foot on the coast, he ought to clear the coast of

their last strongholds.

In May he heard that Mont Real,, the sister fortress to

Kerak, had fallen, thus giving the Moslems control of all

the Dead Sea region. There remained, along the coast, only

the mighty Krak des Chevaliers, guarding Tripoli, and Bel-

fort, standing in the hills above Tyre. While the sultan waited

for his eastern allies and prepared a joint attack against

Antioch and Tripoli, he settled his household troops to

besiege Belfort.

This was one of the massive citadels newly built by the

crusaders and planned with all the skill of their engineers.

It overlooked the summits of the lower Lebanon, and its

96 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

garrison could see on one hand the glitter of the sea, and on

the other the snow peak of giant Hermon.

The top of the Belfort height formed a long and narrow

plateau, with the reservoir at one end, and the castle at the

other. On the far sides, the walls of the fortress crowned the

very brow of a cliff too steep to assault. On the plateau side

it was protected by a gully over which rose a sloping talus,

surmounted by a thirty-five-foot wall, the corners strength

ened by great towers. The gully, being closed at the ends, was

filled with water. So Belfort was like an armored giant, with

his feet too firmly planted to be overthrown, his back guarded

by the precipice, and his breast shielded by his arms. And the

plateau was too cramped for a besieger to place his men

there without danger of being driven down the slope by a

sally of the garrison. The Moslems had left it unmolested for

two years.

When Saladin appeared under Belfort, the lord of the

castle went out to him in truce. Reginald of Sidon was scion

of an old family of crusaders, and he knew the Moslem mind

as well as speech. He lingered in the sultan s tent, discussing

the situation, and he agreed to yield Belfort in three months,

after he could safeguard his family on the coast. Saladin

assented, because an assault upon the castle would be both

long and costly, and he had all the captured citadels to

repair.

The time expiring, the sultan reappeared, and Reginald

went forth again, to ask for a new delay. He even remained

as the guest of the Moslems, until their suspicions grew to

certainty, and they understood that he was bargaining for

time. They seized him then, carried him to the ditch before

Belfort s wall, and bound him upon a crucifix. Saladin re

proached him with breaking faith, and told him that he

would be tortured until he called to his men to yield the

castle.

Reginald did call out at once, to the watchers on the wall.

He bade them under no condition give up Belfort. When the

Moslem soldiers, gathering the meaning of his words, would

have set upon him, Saladin restrained them, and ordered the

crusader to be taken down from the cross and sent to cap-

THE GATHERING STORM 97

tivity in Damascus. So Belfort, deprived of its lord, still

held out.

Nor were the cities of Tripoli and Antioch attacked. In

stead Saladin was obliged to hasten to a point unheeded

until then.

XVI

GUY MARCHES TO ACRE

E man who took the initiative at this critical moment

before the forces of the West came into full contact

with the Moslems was Guy of Lusignan, who had been

king by virtue of his wife of Jerusalem for a year. "A

simple man/ the chroniclers say, "and not wise."

Perhaps Guy did not lack personal courage, but he did

lack initiative. Banned from England, he drifted into the

service of Jerusalem where his younger and much more able

brother Amalric was constable. Chosen by the ambitious

Sibyl for her mate, he sat quietly enough on his throne

until it was wrenched from under him. When Saladin

keeping to the letter the promise he had made at Ascalon

released Lusignan from captivity, after the surrender of that

city, the former king sought out his wife in Tripoli.

With him other lords were freed. Humphrey of Toron

was ransomed by the surrender of Kerak. Amalric rode out

with his brother, and even De Riddeford was released. At

Tripoli they found the debris of the court, and newcomers

from the ships two fleets of crusaders having come in,

from Sicily and Pisa and the throng of them sailed down to

GUY MARCHES TO ACRE 99

join the other refugees at Tyre. And at Tyre the gates were

closed against them.

Conrad, lord of Tyre, ordered it. He was now marquis of

Montserrat his father,, a captive of Hattin, having died.

Conrad had the quick wit of the Italians^ and the easy con

science of an adventurer. Although rumor said that he had a

wife at home, he had married a Byzantine princess, sister to

Isaac the Angel. He spoke all languages and proved himself

equal to most situations.

He had, like the wolf of Kerak, the one virtue of skill in

war. His instant action on landing at Tyre had preserved

the city from Saladin. Nor had Conrad consented to yield it

to save the life of his father when the aged marquis was

brought before the walls he said his father had lived long

enough, in any case. Baha ad Din says he was a great person

age, wise and energetic, and other Moslems, while admitting

his bravery, call him worse than a wolf and meaner than a

dog. He had firm friends and bitter enemies. And his charac

ter shaped events in the Holy Land for two years.

When the refugees of Tripoli landed on the beach beside

Tyre, Conrad barred them out. No doubt his small city was

overcrowded, but he had no wish to admit the man who had

been overlord of Jerusalem to his walls. The strong adven

turer would not yield his place to the weak king. And so

Guy, uncertain what to do next, pitched his tents on the

shore.

It was a strange situation, and for a time there was hot

debate in the city and the camp. Guy was, after all, still king

in name and many in Tyre had pledged their faith to him.

The best of the surviving lords were with him the brothers

of Tiberias, the knight of Toron, and Amalric. There, too,

was the queen, Sibyl, and the stern master of the Temple.

Numbers of Pisans and Germans left Conrad to join Guy,

so that by late summer he had four hundred knights and

seven thousand others with him. Just what impelled him to

act will never be known.

Perhaps Sibyl demanded it, perhaps the Templars and the

knights persuaded him to it, or perhaps the hesitant Guy had

in this moment a flash of determination that never came to

ioo THE FLAME OF ISLAM

him thereafter. With the Moslems swarming around him,

and the Christian fleets drawing nearer, he set out from his

camp and marched on the great city of Acre.

"Never/ cries a chronicler, "did another show such audac

ity, and it is truly wonderful that he had the enterprise to

go to fight men who were a hundred to his four."

When released, Lusignan had given his word that he would

not bear arms against the Moslems. Now he broke his faith.

Of course the patriarch had insisted that he was king, and

so must go out again to the war. And the priests declared

that it would be a sin to keep a pledge that would harm the

Church. Guy appeased his conscience by a petty makeshift.

He did not wear his sword now; it was hung upon his saddle

peak instead of his girdle, so that he might say that he did

not bear arms. But the truth remains, that he broke his faith.

Saladin, when he heard of it later, made no protest. He

much preferred to have the harmless Guy in command of the

Christians, and he had released the king with that end in

view. Meanwhile the Moslem scouts reported to the sultan

who was then at Belfort that the king s small army was

marching down the coast, leaving Tyre behind it. Saladin

wished to march at once, and descend upon it from the hills.

But all his amirs advised him to wait, until the presumptuous

little army should reach Acre. Then the sultan could cut it

off and destroy it between his host and the garrison of Acre.

This was sound advice from a military point of view, and

Saladin yielded to it. And in yielding he made his greatest

mistake.

He was thinking of the north, listening for the approach

of Barbarossa and watching for the sails of the crusaders

fleets the fleets that might land anywhere from Constan

tinople to Cairo. By all the laws of warfare, Guy s seventy-

four hundred were doomed since Saladin s cavalry could

descend from the heights of Lebanon and surround them

before they could possibly return to Tyre.

So, for the time being, Guy s army was no more than a

pawn, moving out of its own accord to a vacant square with

out any protection. And it would be poor strategy for the

Moslem players to attack this pawn with their stronger

GUY MARCHES TO ACRE 101

pieces, while the enemy was preparing to attack elsewhere.

The game itself was at hazard, because the crowned heads of

Christendom were grouped about the chessboard.

The pawn moved. Down past the rocky shoulder of the

Ladder of Tyre, where it might easily have been cut off, since

here the hills jutted into the sea. And now it is necessary to

glance at the square of the chessboard lying before it.

The plain of Acre, they called it. A flat shore, stretching

south for twenty-odd miles, from the Ladder of Tyre to the

mass of Mount Carmel. A fertile shore, hot and green in this

month of August, extending roughly seven miles inland to

the foothills. Beyond the foothills in the northern part rose

the gray slopes of the higher ranges, with Hermon s bald

summit above them.

Midway along the shore a small, low promontory stuck out.

All this promontory was surrounded by a wall, and within

the wall lay the city of Acre.

South of Acre, a long shallow half-moon bay extended to

the point of Carmel. The shore here was sandy. Palm groves

clustered above the sedge grass. A small river, laboring across

the plain, debouched into a half-dozen streams that ended in

the sedge, forming a marsh. Such was the plain of Acre, and

upon it waited a destiny more terrible than the fate of Water

loo.

The army of crusaders should never have descended into it

from the rocks of the Ladder of Tyre. Having done so, they

should have been destroyed by the Moslems. So say the rules

of warfare. But the men and women who marched across the

plain of Acre were driven by an impulse more potent than all

the reasoning of warfare the perversity of human beings.

They were weary of waiting at Tyre; they wanted to open

the road to Jerusalem, and Acre was the first city upon their

way. In spite of everything, they decided to besiege Acre.

There were, however, wise heads among them, and instead

of camping under the walls they marched direct to a mound, or

rather a series of mounds above the orchards a half mile from

the sea. While the tents were pitghed on the high ground, the

men-at-arms labored at digging a ditch around the mounds.

All through the night they worked, and in the morning they

THE FLAME OF ISLAM

diverted the water from the nearest stream into the ditch

so that they had a fairly good moat around the camp. Then

they began to throw up an earth wall behind the ditch.

Naturally the Moslems in Acre took an interest in their

visitors, and sallied out to skirmish in the plain. Nothing

serious happened for a while because the Moslems were

waiting for Saladin to come down from his hills and erase this

audacious encampment, while the Christian knights knew

better than to venture far from their lines. They raided the

plain for supplies, and they did not lack for water.

They christened the new position the Toron, or the Hill.

And, realizing that they were cut off here, and would soon

be besieged, they began to turn anxious faces toward the hills.

Only a day s ride past Saffuriya to the east lay the great

plateau of Hattin, where even the ravens had long since for

saken the gaunt bones of the dead.

So they waited on the bare brown knolls, with the banner

of the cross planted by the queen s pavilion, and their horses

picketed down in the grass by the ditch.

What happened then is related by a minstrel of the court

named Ambrose who was there and saw it all.

They dared not linger in the groves below them; they stayed on

the heights. It was three days after our men arrived and settled

themselves on the Toron, where they kept under arms all night

against the attacks of the Saracens, that the troops of Salahadin 1

came Turks, Persians, and Beduins and occupied all the country.

The third day of the week Salahadin came himself, thinking that

he would soon have the heads of the Christians.

Do not be surprised if they, who defended their heads, were un

easy and anxious during the watches and labors on this Toron

where they had settled themselves. The Turks assailed them night

and day, and wearied them so much they could scarcely eat. There

Geoffrey of Lusignan spared himself nothing in defending the host.

Long had he been hardy and wise, but now he gained great renown.

From Monday to Friday they were all in this peril. But you will see

how God defended them.

While the king and all his men were in such fear that they

*So Ambrose has written Saladin, correctly. Geoffrey was the third of the Lu

signan brothers.

GUY MARCHES TO ACRE 103

watched the far-off sea and begged God to send them some aid,

behold there arrived a great fleet of barks with people in them.

It was James of Avesnes, from Flanders. I do not believe that Alex

ander or Hector was ever a better knight than he. It was James,

who had sold his lands and possessions to put his body in the service

of Him who died and arose again. He had with him fourteen thou

sand renowned men-at-arms. Then it was the fleet of Danemark

that came with many fine castellans, who had good brown horses,

strong and swift.

What had happened was that the Pisan, the Danish,

and Frisian fleets bearing the crusaders to the coast had

sailed down from Tripoli to Tyre. There they heard of the

king s sally to Acre, and came on to join him. Galleys and

ships were run up on the beach near the city, and the new

comers fought their way across the plain to the camp.

Conrad of Montserrat arrived from Tyre in his ships, to

join the gathering host. The Christians now numbered more

than thirty thousand and their ships blockaded the port of

Acre. They dared extend their lines on either hand, so that

the Toron camp became a semi-circle, isolating Acre from

the hills.

XVII

THE SIEGE BEGINS

ALADIN, seeing that the real force of the crusaders was

centering here, called in his divisions from the north

ern hills, leaving only a few companies to carry on the

siege of Belfort. His first effort in that month of September

was to provision and strengthen Acre, which had not been

prepared for a siege. Without much trouble, Taki ad Din s

cavalry broke through the camp of the Pisans which ad

joined the sea at the northern end of the semi-circle, and for

two days kept open this avenue of approach, while strings

of camels laden with grain and supplies were passed in, with

a whole corps of the army commanded by Karakush who

had been summoned from Cairo. The sultan and Baha ad Din

went in and walked along the walls, studying the lines of the

crusaders.

With the city thus strengthened, Saladin withdrew from it,

and took command of his army which had been increased

daily by new contingents. Moving down from the hills into

the plain, he surrounded the crusaders in his turn, and struck

at them with his horsemen.

Ambrose tells how, in this crisis, new masses of crusaders

arrived from the sea*

104

THE SIEGE BEGINS 105

A fortnight had not gone by, when the count of Brienne arrived

to join us, and with him his brother Andrew, son of a good father

and a goo dmother. There came also the seneschal of Flanders with

more than twenty barons, and a German landgrave bringing with

him good Spanish horses. And the bishop of Beauvais who was

neither aged nor infirm, with Count Robert his brother, a skillful

and nimble knight. And the count of Bar, as courteous a man as

you could find. Many others, valiant and wise, joined the host at

the same time.

But the more they came, the less the Saracens feared them. Night

and day they delivered attacks, and approached even to the tents.

Those in the city made sorties. Know well that they had not been

taken from plough and cart, those people in Acre. They were the

best of the infidels, to guard and defend a city.

The others outside grew in number every day, and filled the

whole country so that our people looked upon themselves as prison

ers.

At the end of September Saladin made his effort to break

the line the Christians were extending around the city. As

usual, he chose for the attack a Friday when the Moslems

all over the world would be at prayer. He was in the saddle

himself before daybreak, and without eating anything. "Like

a mother/ says Baha ad Din, "who has lost her child."

He launched his cavalry at different points of the line, to

break the close ranks of the stolid men-at-arms, and to

separate the divisions of the crusaders. But the issue was not

decided that day, nor for several days thereafter.

On a Friday of the month of September [Ambrose relates] I re

member that a dire and sad misfortune befell our people. The

Saracens attacked them without a day s respite. The Christians

armed themselves and arranged themselves in good order, in the

different commands that had been agreed upon. On one flank the

Hospital and the Temple held the river where numerous enemies

were it was they who always began a battle. In the center of the

army the count of Brienne and his men, the landgrave and the

Germans who formed a great company, remained by a deserted

mosque and cemetery. King Guy and the Pisans and other valiant

men were on the right, at the Toron, to watch the Turks.

The Saracens came on with spirit. You would have seen fine

regiments among them.

io6 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

The Templars and the Hospitalers charged, assailed the first

ranks, pierced them, threw them into disorder, drove them in flight

and pursued them. Then the other Christians charged also, and

the Saracens gave ground. But there was such a mass of them that

the Christians did not know where to turn. The Turks could not

rally themselves. They were drawing near the hills, when the Devil

mixed himself in it and caused the death of many of our men.

A horse belonging to a German ran away; its owner pursued it,

and his companions also ran after the horse without being able to

catch it. The horse ran toward the city. The Saracens believed our

men were fleeing, so they faced about and charged in their turn.

And they carried themselves so well that those who should have

directed our army were only able to defend themselves.

While the worthy Ambrose attributed the defeat to

Satan s power, the Moslems knew better, and Baha ad Din

wrote a clearer account of the battle.

It seems that the best of the Moslem generals, Taki ad

Din, commanded the strong right ving of Saladin s army.

The sultan himself led the center, which was made up of

their household troops. One of the older amirs, Meshtub,

had the left wing, with mixed divisions of Kurds, Arabs, and

mamluks, near the river.

When the Templars charged, Taki ad Din decided to draw

back his line to higher ground, and Saladin mistook this

maneuver for flight. The sultan sent his reserve cavalry

from the center to the retreating right wing. The commanders

of the Christian center noticed this weakening of the Moslem

center and charged point-blank at the sultan s standard.

Some Moslem regiments were broken and driven back, but

Saladin s mamluks retired a little without breaking ranks.

So by midday the Moslem right wing was swinging away

from the rest of the army, and the center was pivoting back

on the unbroken left. It was as if the crusaders had pushed

.apart double folding doors.

They poured through the gap, pursuing the scattered Mos

lem regiments some of which fled headlong until they

reached the bridge over the Jordan! until they sighted

Saladin s camp ahead of them. The guards of the camp rode

off, and the light-fingered Arab clansmen began to plunder

107

io8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the tents even when the crusaders were riding in. Some of

the knights penetrated as far as Saladin s pavilion before they

realized that they had advanced miles beyond their main

forces, and that the Moslems on either hand were making

ready to resume the battle. Then the too-venturesome cru

saders started back on tired horses, only to be struck and badly

mauled by Taki ad Din s and Saladin s horsemen on either

hand. They were thrown into disorder and lost heavily.

There was killed Andrew of Brienne [Ambrose resumes] may

his soul be saved and never died a knight so valiant and helpful.

The marquis of Montserrat was so hemmed in by his enemies that

he would have been left there if the king Guy had not aided him.

And here also was slain the master of the Temple he who spoke

that good word, learned in a good school, when all, brave and

fearful alike, called to him after the attack, "Come away, sir,

come away!"

He could have come, if he had wished it. "Please God/ he

answered them, "no one will see me again elsewhere, and no one

may reproach the Temple because I had been seen flying." And he

did not do it; he died there, for too many Turks cast themselves

upon him. And of the common men, five thousand died there

stripped and bare their bodies lay on the field.

When those others in the city heard of the defeat of our men,

they mounted their Arab horses, went out the gates and attacked

our men. with such fury that they would have done them great

harm if it had not been for their fine defense. But our men faced

them. The knights struck good blows; the king Guy did wonders,

and Geoffrey of Lusignan, who endured much that day, did likewise,

with that valiant James of Avesnes. So the enemy were beaten back

and driven within the city again.

So passed this day in which fortune went against us. The Sara

cens were so encouraged may God curse them as I curse them

that they began to vex and harass the Christians more than they

had done before. When the valiant men and the barons saw this,

they said, "Seigneurs, we gain no advantage at all We must resolve

upon something to protect ourselves against these offspring of

Satan who torment us every day and steal our horses in the night."

Here is the resolution they made. They dug a ditch, wide and

deep, and lined it with shields, mantlets, and beams from the ships.

Thus they divided the ground by the ditch. However, the Saracens

attacked them without ceasing, and left them no peace.

THE SIEGE BEGINS 109

Listen to a sad thing! At the end of the slaughter of which I

have spoken, and which was so grievous for the Franks the day

after the elite of the host had been discomforted and so many poor

people who had come there for God had found death Salahadin

had all the dead bodies taken up and sent back to us by casting them

into the river of Acre. This was an ugly shambles, for the bodies

drifted down the current until they arrived in the midst of the

army, and as the heaps of the dead grew, such an odor arose that

all the army had to go off far enough to be beyond it. And long

after they had been buried, we still kept away from the odor.

Meanwhile the Christians worked at the ditch which served them

as a rampart. They kept themselves behind it when the Saracens

came to attack it, as they did every day, hot or cold. This ditch

became the battle field of the people of God, and of these dogs,

Our men wished to dig it deeper and the others wished to destroy it.

You would have seen then . , . arrows. 1 They who dug the ditch

passed them up to those who defended it. You would have seen, on

both sides, men hardy and courageous. You would have seen the

fighters fall, rolling over, and cutting open bellies, and giving heavy

blows. Only the night separated them.

Even those of us who were most at ease endured fears and

watches and fatigues; they dared not take rest before finishing the

ditch.

On the eve of All Saints Day happened a great misadventure.

Those who were on the Toron watched the side toward Haifa, and

they saw a great fleet of galleys approach from Egypt. The fleet

drew near in good array, and the news spread swiftly throughout

the host. Some believed, although no one knew it for certain, that

these were vessels of Genoa, of Venice, of Marseille or of Sicily

that came to aid in the siege. While they gave themselves up to

wondering, the galleys came in, and they came in so well that they

entered the port of Acre and in doing so they carried off one of our

ships which had men and provisions on it. This ship was towed into

the city, the men were killed and the provisions taken.

Listen to what the Turks did. On All Saints Day, they hung on

the walls of Acre in defiance the bodies of the Christians they had

killed in the ship. So the souls of these dead shared, our preachers

said, in the great joy of the heavens that day.

This fleet of which I have told you guarded so well the port and

the coast that aid no longer arrived for the defenders of God. The

*A line of Ambrose s manuscript here is obscure, His narrative is in short, crudely

rhymed verses.

no THE FLAME OF ISLAM

winter came on, without bringing fresh provisions to them. They

had finished the ditch, but later on it was ruined in spite of them*

So Ambrose wrote, in blunt, awkward words. It is clear

that Saladin made every effort to break the line of the

Christian camp, and failed. While the crusaders had been

worsted and cut to pieces on the first day of the battle, they

held their ground thereafter. Saladin felt that the issue must

be decided now, and the attacks pushed home. Ill as he was

with malaria, he summoned his amirs to his tent, saying,

"Now we have before us the chance of victory. Our enemies

are few, but they will remain and more will come over the

sea. And the only aid we can look for is from Al Adil, in

Egypt. It seems best to me to attack/

But for the second time the amirs persuaded him to change

his mind. The autumn rains were beginning, with the holy

month of Ramadan, and they were eager to return to their

homes for the winter s planting. The sultan himself was ill,

and later, in the spring, Malik Adil would join them. So they

argued and Saladin, as at Tyre, consented to send the volun

teer levies home and to cease the battle, withdrawing himself

to his main camp in the hills. Arabs and detachments of

regulars were left in the foothills to watch the crusaders.

During the stormy season no new fleets could approach

the coast of the Holy Land, nor were the ships of the cru

saders long, unseaworthy galleys, or round tubs of cargo

vessels or open barks able to blockade the port of Acre.

Winds from the west drove a heavy, ceaseless swell upon the

shelterless shore, and the larger boats that could not be

drawn up on the beaches had to return to the northern har

bors or to Cyprus.

In mist and wind and beating rain the year 1189 ended.

The siege of Acre had begun. But the crusaders outside the

walls were hemmed in and besieged in their turn. Open war

fare in the outer country ceased for the time being, and in

the Acre plain a new kind of strife was born trench warfare.

XVIII

KARAKUSH BURNS THE TOWERS

EEN from a distance. Acre looked very much like a

clenched fist projecting out from the shore. A gray

and motionless fist that never changed. Its outer wall

made a right angle, stretching from the joint of the little

finger inland to the wrist bone. At this angle rose a square

bastion and a mighty tower that the crusaders christened

the Accursed Tower.

South from the Accursed Tower, along the other side of

the angle, the wall extended as far as the joint of the thumb,

where it reached the water. Then, like a massive thumb

crooked away from the clenched fist, the wall went out some

two hundred yards into the water, forming a harbor between

it and the city proper. It ended in a tower. Between this

tower and the city between the curved thumb and the first

finger of the fist an isolated tower rose from the water.

This, for good reason, was known as the Tower of Flies.

From it, a great chain ran to the end of the wall, just under

the surface of the water. The chain prevented enemy ships

from coming into the small harbor, and it could be lowered

to let a Moslem vessel pass*

ii2 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Within the large right angle of the outer wall stood a

smaller angle, the inner wall on higher ground. The broad

space between the two was occupied by the troops, the horse

lines, and markets. Rising over the inner wall could be seen

the watch towers of the Templars house, and the terraces

of the Hospital, and the poplars around the little cathedral.

(For Acre had been built almost entirely by the crusaders, and

the Moslems had only held it for two years.) The bell tower

of the cathedral was now surmounted by a muezzin s balcony,

and the call to prayer echoed among the kneeling throngs in

the courtyard below.

Many of the crusaders knew every stone of the great city

wall upon the summit of which four horsemen could pass,

riding in different directions with its square towers and

fortified gates. They knew that no scaling ladders planted in

the wide ditch would prevail against that wall. Nor would

the Moslems allow a convenient wooden horse to be trundled

through the gate.

To enter Acre the crusaders must build engines powerful

enough to open a breach in the wall. And nothing could be

done during the deluge of rains.

In the mud of the plain a strange city was growing up

within the camp of the besiegers. A city of tents and clay

walls, lying in a half circle beyond arrow shot of the battle

ments of Acre. Its walls were yellow clay and sand, its streets

were mud, and its gutters canals.

Under bending date palms clustered the drenched pavilions

of noblewomen, ladies of Beyond the Sea and the courts of

the West. When the sun struck through the clouds, they

rode out on their palfreys, long skirts hiding their feet, and

samite and velvet sleeves hanging from their shoulders. The

newest arrivals wore brave, embroidered crosses upon their

breasts. Around them thronged youthful esquires in heavy

mantles, and proud knights in girdled chapes and surcoats

lined with ermine or sable. Hunting dogs trotted after them.

They might ride along the white sand of the beach, at

either end of the intrenched city where naked fishermen

swam out against the surf, towing nets behind them. Or they

KARAKUSH BURNS THE TOWERS 113

might venture into the perilous plain, where Arab horsemen

watched for a chance to snatch loot or slay a Christian and

carry off his head. Mounted bowmen went out to hunt the

Arabs, and knights relieved the dull hours by coursing hares

and riding after gazelles toward the foothills.

Through the streets of the tent city surged a motley

throng burghers debating the price of corn and barley

stored in warehouses, valerets and masterless men seeking

the sheds where sheep were slaughtered and broiled over

glowing charcoal, gaunt men-at-arms in leather jackets.

Soft Provengal voices mingled with harsh German tongues;

blacksmiths hammers clattered with the swordsmiths forges;

carpenters axes tapped at the great ships timbers that were

being shaped into arms for the mangonels and sheds for the

rams.

Even the rain could not wash away their good humor. Soon

these mangonels would be casting darts at the infidels of Acre,

and the heads of the iron sows would be butting the great

wall yonder. Pilgrims labored to aid the carpenters in the

good work, and they sang together:

"Hear us, Christ our King,

Hear us, Thou Who art Lord of Kings,

And show us the way."

And the voices of barefoot monks made answer:

"Have pity upon us,

And show us the way. 9

At nightfall processions wound through the streets, carry

ing tapers, and throngs gathered in the chapels, between

walls of damp clay bricks, where the good bishops with their

golden crooks sat in their robes by the new altars, and the

swinging censers sweetened the stench of the mud underfoot.

At all hours men came to the churches for their needs

the sick to be sprinkled with holy water, babies to be chris

tened, troubled spirits to be confessed and relieved.

For the church was the life center of this multitude

ii 4 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

council chamber, and dispensary, and hospital. It was pleas

ant for tired eyes to watch the soft lights moving over the

altar and the gleaming vestments of the servants of God

it was good to hear the rise and fall of the old chants that

even the fishermen knew, the Ave Maria, and the Te Deum.

Here the shaggy jackmen were as much at home as the

valiant father bishop of Beauvais, who liked nothing better

than to don armor, and who dreamed of becoming a second

Turpin "If," as one man put it, "he could find a Charle

magne."

"Verily," said another, "here is the Frisian who hath left

his fish scales, and the Scotsman who hath left his fellowship

with lice."

True, they had no acknowledged leader, but they managed

well enough. And by early summer the valiant old emperor,

Red Beard himself, would come down out of the north with

the German host. While, men said, at home the young king,

Richard of England, had made up his long quarrel with Philip

king of the French, and the twain had taken the cross

from the hand of William, archbishop of Tyre. Soon they

would be upon the sea, with their armies.

Meanwhile the artisans of the tent city were finishing three

mighty towers built upon rollers and strengthened by heavy

timbers and covered with fresh hides nailed to the wood

to protect them against fire. These three towers tapered to

summits higher than the wall of Acre, and when they could

be rolled against the wall then the good work would begin.

The rains diminished, the muddy water dried in the ditches,

and fresh winds cleared the sky, so that the sun beat down

again on the damp walls of Acre and on the dark tent city

of the plain. Soft green covered the sand and clay, and spread

to the distant summits of the hills. The sound of running

water ceased, and the ground all at once became hard under

foot. Along the beaches, the heavy pulse of the swell dwindled.

Sails moved over the motionless sea.

Horses and sheep were taken out to the plain to graze,

under guard, and men wandered about restlessly. Spring

had come to the shore of the Holy Land, and the war began

again. Rusted mail was washed and cleaned with oil bows

KARAKUSH BURNS THE TOWERS 115

spliced anew, and arrows sorted over. Men swarmed like

flies around the clumsy wooden engines, twisting ropes into

place drawing the engines out over bridges across the

ditch, into the no-man s land between the camp and the

walls. Sturdy arms carried mantlets giant wicker shields

covered with leather and set them up in a line within arrow

shot of the walls. Knights in armor led out their chargers and

stood by, to guard the new line of assault.

Meanwhile the galleys from Tyre came down, with the

Genoese fleet, and the crusaders thronged to the shore to

watch the daily skirmishing between their ships and the

Moslem galleys from the port. Men waited eagerly for their

turn to go out on the ships. The daring seamen even forced

their way into the harbor past the Tower of Flies and towed

out a Moslem vessel, landing their prisoners on the shore.

The joy was great [Ambrose explains] and you would have seen

our women approach, with knives in their hands, to seize the Turks

by the hair and tug at them with all their strength. Then they cut

off their heads and carried them away. At sea, by God s grace, we

had the victory for detachments of knights from the host, valiant

men and well armed who fought hardily, took turns upon the boats.

Our fleet drove the enemy galleys within the chain. From that day

the Turks shut up within the city could not receive any aid by sea

or land.

Slowly the three great towers creaked and swayed, drawing

nearer to the outer wall, while mangonels upon their sum

mits spewed iron darts upon the battlements. Large as moun

tains were the three towers, each with half a thousand men

within it. On one the banner of the landgrave stood, on an

other that of the king Guy, and on the third that of the mar

quis Conrad who had come back from Tyre for the assault.

From the embrasures of these moving pyramids crossbrows

snapped and their iron quarrels whirred over the parapet of

the wall. When the quarrels struck a man they tore^through

shield and mail and flesh and bone. From the barricade on

the tops of the towers skilled archers plied their shafts. Slid

ing over stone rollers, the towers drew nearer the moat of

Acre.

ii6 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Already columns of men waited, behind the shelter of the

mantlets, to run forward into the towers, when the draw

bridges should be lowered upon the wall and swordsmen

would rush forward.

Swiftly the Moslems labored, to destroy the towers before

they could approach too near. Engines on the walls, working

under the direction of Karakush, the mamluk who knew all

the arts of siege and defense, cast stones against them. But

they were built of solid beams joined together. The beams

cracked and yielded, without breaking. Other engines shot

out flaming timbers that struck down the crusaders on the

tops. But hides soaked in vinegar covered the wood, and

prevented the fire from catching.

While the throngs of men labored, a youth of Baghdad,

Ibn an-Nadjar by name, sought out Karakush, standing

among his amirs on the wall.

"I wish," said an-Nadjar, "to aid my master Saladin, and

burn these towers."

The veteran mamluk listened with half an ear. "And how

wilt thou do that?"

"I will prepare naphtha by a formula I know, and I will

cast it upon the towers. If they were steel, they would burn."

"Ah, well," Karakush looked at him. "Do the best thou

canst."

And he gave the young copper worker two hundred dinars

to prepare his materials.

Later in the day, an-Nadjar was ready. He returned to the

wall with soldiers who lugged three large copper cylinders

from which short tubes projected. These pots, as the Moslems

called them, were placed opposite the wooden pyramids,

and one of them was lifted into the arm of a stone caster.

The arm was drawn back, and released whirling the copper

bomb against the broken face of the tower opposite.

Flames roared from the bomb streams of fire shot into the

framework of beams. Within the tower the crusaders could

not go near the copper bomb, and the fire caught, soaring

up when the wind sucked at it. By sunset on that day the

three mighty towers lay in smoking embers.

The loss of the towers put an end to the attack, and the

KARAKUSH BURNS THE TOWERS 117

crusaders withdrew into their camp to plan new engines.

They had known of the terrible weapon of the Arabs that

they called Greek and wild fire, and they had heard that

it was compounded of sulphur or naphtha, but this was

the first time they had felt the effects of it.

They were too full of hope to be discouraged. Did not the

men from the ships say that the great kings of England and

France had put to sea with new hosts ? And rumors trickled

down through the mountains of the Armenians strange

stories of Barbarossa at odds with the treacherous Byzantines

prevailing over the Byzantines, and marching on and on,

over the barren lands, drawing nearer every day.

Spring was in the air, and they had food and plenty of

ships. Soon they would be ready again to face the minions

of Mahound, the very legions of Anti-Christ who had mocked

them from the wall.

Jackmen and axmen, valerets and peasants, seafarers and

bowmen they put their heads together, and decided to do

something on their own account. While the great lords lin

gered, they chafed at the waiting. They could not climb the

wall of Acre, that was certain. But off yonder they could see

the tents of the infidels, in the foothills, and they wanted to

strike a blow or two. Besides, there would be plunder in the

tents.

So they banded together, burly Flemings and shaggy

Danes, eager Provencals, and Pisans. Sergeants, ribalds, and

men-at-arms ten thousand of them marched off toward

the foothills without leaders, on the fete of St. James. "They

were," Ambrose says, "poor fellows, having great need and

driven by their suffering, for we were not at ease in the

host."

In orderly ranks they marched off, and later in the day

word came back that they had entered the tents. But they

did not appear with their spoil and presently some knights

went to look for them. That evening a few of the infantry

did come back, escorted by the horsemen, and without plun

der of any kind. The rest of them, seven thousand, lay dead

within the Moslem lines.

n 8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

But the daily conflicts in no-man s land, around the en

gines, went on without ceasing. Ambrose made note of them.

As the days passed, many things happened. Before and behind

the stone casters, which were numerous in the host, many men

came and went. I can not remember or relate all the adventures,

but here is one.

A Turk came out with his bow for a shot at our men, and would

not go away. A Frenchman, aroused by this obstinacy, went out

on his side. The Frenchman called himself Marcaduc he was no

son of a duke or a king and the Turk, hardy and powerful, called

himself Grayir. The one made ready to aim on the other the

Frenchman on the Turk, the Turk on the Frenchman.

Grayir demanded what country Marcaduc was from. "I am of

France/ he replied, "and thou art mad to come down here."

"Thou art no bad shot," the Turk said to him. "Wilt thou make

an agreement? I will shoot, and thou wilt stand the blow without

flinching, and if I miss, I will await thy shaft in the same way."

He talked so much, and begged so that the Frenchman agreed.

Then he shot, but his hand slipped and the arrow did not fly.

Marcaduc said to him, "My turn to shoot wait for me!"

"No," he said, "let me shoot again, and thou canst then try

twice at me."

"Willingly," said the Frenchman. But while the Turk was feeling

in his quiver for a good shaft, Marcaduc, who was all ready and

who did not relish the new arrangement, let go his own arrow and

shot him in the heart. "By Saint Denis, I will wait no more for

thee."

Another time, it happened that a knight was down in the fosse,

outside, on an affair of his own that no one can do without. As he

placed himself so, a Turk in one of the outposts to which he was

paying no attention separated from his companions and raced his

horse forward. It was villainous and discourteous to seek to sur

prise the knight while he was so occupied.

The Turk was already far from his own people, and was ap

proaching the knight with lance in rest to slay him, when our men

shouted,

"Run, sir run, run!"

He had barely time to get up. The Turk came up at a full gallop,

believing that he would be able to turn his horse and wheel back, if

he needed to do so, but by God s grace, he did not succeed. The

knight cast himself to one side, and took up two stones in his hands

KARAKUSH BURNS THE TOWERS 119

listen to how God takes vengeance! As the Turk checked his

horse to turn back upon him, the knight saw him clearly, and as

he drew near, struck him with one of the stones upon the temple.

The Turk fell dead, and the knight took his horse and led it off by

the rein.

He who told me this saw the knight mount the horse and ride him

off to his tent, where he kept him with much joy. . . .

Many of our people who were attacking the walls of Acre tried

to fill up the ditches. 1 Some gave it up, but others went on piling in

the stones they carried there. Barons brought them as well, on their

chargers or pack horses, and many women also found satisfaction in

carrying them. Among the others, there was one woman who took

great pleasure in it.

A Saracen archer, on guard upon the wall, saw this woman about

to cast down her burden from her neck. As she came forward, he

aimed at her, and struck her. The woman fell to earth mortally

wounded, and every one gathered round her. She was twisting her

limbs in agony, when her husband came to seek her. But she de

manded of all who were there valiant men and ladies that, on

behalf of God and their own souls, they should make use of her body

to fill in the ditch whither she had carried so many stones.

This was done, when God had taken her soul. Now there is a

woman who should be remembered!

Days went by, and the grass turned brown under the

scorching of the sun. The axes of the carpenters tap-tapped

along the beams; the forges of the smithies muttered and

purred. Riderless horses were seen galloping over the plain.

A dry wind stirred the brittle palms, and brought to the

camp the distant sound of weapons clashing and the hoarse

voices of laboring men.

Dust swirled around the tents, where women lay, waiting

or nursing the sick. By candlelight the barons of the host sat

in talk, anxious for news uncertain what to do next. The

water was growing bad, and they had seen the banners of

Saladin again on the hills.

One day there was a new sound. Drums thrumming in

the foothills and cymbals clashing. Horsemen in mail rode

HDutside the wall of the city. The great moat, or fosse, had to be filled in before an

attack could be made, and the common people of the crusaders* camp risked their

lives by carrying stones or dirt to the ditch, and dumping in their loads.

tao THE FLAME OF ISLAM

down, to wheel before the watching crusaders, and swing

their long sleeves over their heads. A few hours later the

city always seemed to know the tidings from the hills, al

though no man could pass through the crusaders lines, or

any ship through the blockade the excitement spread to

the wall. Turbaned heads appeared between the crenels, and

voices mocked the besiegers.

"Slain is your emperor! He hath come to his end and now

... it is as if he had never been."

Troubled were the barons of the host. The good Barba-

rossa dead! But what of his army, and the German princes?

Other crusaders came in ships to the shore Henry, count

of Champagne, a quiet man, kin to all the kings. And Thi-

bault of Blois, with the proud count of Clermont, and the

tall count of Chalons. The chivalry of France was assembling

anew in the camp, but they brought evil tidings.

Barbarossa was indeed dead. The old emperor had been at

the head of his army, within sight of the Armenian moun

tains, after many a desert march and struggle. At a ford,

where the freshet ran deep, his horse had stumbled, throwing

him, clad in his mail, into the water. He had been lifted out,

but the shock had weakened the old man and within a few

days he ceased to live. His son Frederick had taken command,

but many of his nobles had turned back. Others were at

Antioch.

The crusaders listened grimly, and after a council chose

Henry of Champagne to command them, and to assault

Acre without delay.

XIX

THE FULL TIDE

his base in the foothills, seven miles away, Saladin

watched and weighed events. He saw the steady

increase of the crusaders* host, and unseen messages

reached him hourly from Acre.

In the north the little garrison of Belfort had yielded at

last, and the mountain strongholds were all in his hands.

But the new leader of the crusaders, Count Henry, sallied

out to attack the camp of the Moslems, and Saladin was the

first in the saddle. He had with him then the armies of Da

mascus, of Egypt and Mosul, and his veteran horsemen beat

back the Christian onset, taking a heavy toll with their

swords.

It was like thrusting back the incoming tide. The water

could be dammed or turned aside, but the pressure of the

water never ceased more and more of it came in from the

sea. And the Moslems waited anxiously for word from the

far North, whither Taki ad Din had gone with the army of

Aleppo to check the advance of Barbarossa.

Saladin knew now that the great emperor was dead. A

letter came in from the Catholicos, the Christian bishop of

Ani who sent information to Saladin. The Catholicos said

121

122 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

that the son of the emperor still had forty-two thousand men,

somber and weary men wearing nothing but armor, marching

with rigid discipline and intent only on reaching the Sepul-

cher. The Armenians had withdrawn from them, and Kilidj

Arslan s Seljuks were attacking them.

Then the Catholicos sent down a spy, who told this story:

I took my stand on a bridge that they had to pass, to watch

them, and I saw many men pass by, almost all without mail

shirts and without lances. When I asked them the cause of this,

they replied, "Our provisions were gone and all our firewood, so

we were forced to burn a great part of our gear and furniture.

We had many dead. We were obliged to kill our horses and eat

their meat, and to feed the fire with our lances."

They were still very numerous, but growing more feeble, hav

ing almost no horses or supplies. The greater part of their bag

gage they carried on donkey back.

The third message came in from Taki ad Din. His cavalry

had met the marching columns of the Germans, and scattered

them along the plain of Antioch. Only five thousand survivors

escorting their sick prince reached the shelter of the city

where the Armenians and the lord of Antioch were scheming

to seize their treasure chests.

Saladin no longer needed to guard against the German

crusaders. He ordered the northern armies back to Acre

and the victorious Taki ad Din rode in with his son and the

lords of Baalbek and Shaizar, while his wild Kurds sang of

their deeds, and the drums of the Moslem camp thundered

a greeting to them. The sultan received his nephew in his

own tent, and feasted him with a full heart.

In these months Saladin had to force his fever-racked body

to keep to the saddle, and he leaned more and more upon the

strength of Taki ad Din who had once been a hare-brained

raider but who was now the most able general on either side.

Before long the Germans also reached Acre. But they

drifted down in ships, some two thousand of them with sixty

horses worn to skin and bones. Frederick of Swabia com

manded this remnant of the great host that had set out with

Barbarossa.

THE FULL TIDE 123

Saladin heard of them, and their condition, almost as

quickly as the crusaders who welcomed them. Twice a day,

the mamluks in Acre reported to their master in the hills, by

pigeon post. Messenger pigeons, released from the roofs of

the city, flew over the crusaders lines to the pavilions of the

sultan. On the minute scrolls of paper within the silver cylin

ders attached to their claws were written the details of the

siege the losses in fighting, the progress of the enemy s en

gines, and the amount of provisions on hand.

Just now at the end of the summer the crusaders were

closing in on the wall with grim determination. The battle of

the engines began again. The mightiest of the perriers on

either side were matched against each other, fighting gigantic

duels with boulders and tree trunks as missiles, until one or

the other was broken down. The pigeon reports told of a

Christian mangonel destroyed by a great iron arrow, its tip

heated red hot, shot from the wall.

The struggle went on at sea as well. The Pisans built a roof

over one of the galleys, and constructed platforms upon the

masts, with flying bridges that could be lowered from these

fighting tops. While other galleys bombarded the Tower of

Flies with missiles, this strange craft was laid alongside the

tower, and the seamen attempted to board the tower from

the bridges. The attack was beaten off, and the galley burned

by Greek fire.

What bothered the defenders most were two belters the

Moslems knew what the Christians called them built by

the bishop of Besanfon and the duke of Swabia: two moving

castles with framework of iron, and a kind of protective mat

of plaited ropes on the side facing the wall. Their tops were

fortified, and in the opening beneath one of them an iron

beast s head hung waiting to be swung against the lower

stones of the wall.

The belters went forward on wheels, while attacks were

made simultaneously at other points where the moat had

been filled in. Karakush and his men tried everything, to

find a vulnerable spot in the moving castles. When whole

marble columns shot from the largest stone casters failed to

break the iron framework, the Moslems cast out dry wood

THE FLAME OF ISLAM

in front of the betters setting fire to the heaped-up wood.

But the castles did not burn.

The Moslem engineers tried all their stock of flame weap

ons glass bombs filled with naphtha, and pots of burning

tar and sulphur, and cylinders of Greek fire. Still the strange

castles did not burn, and the iron beast came nearer.

But the constant pounding broke in the top of one of the

belters and the engineers on the wall hastened to drop their

bombs of Greek fire into the shattered part. This castle

went up in flames.

The other succumbed to different measures. It stood op

posite a gate, and the Moslems sallied out unexpectedly,

drove off the crusaders, and held their ground long enough to

set fire to the interior of the giant machine. Curiosity im

pelled them to attach chains and iron hooks to the b(lier> and

when they retreated, they drew it after them through the

gate, to inspect it at leisure. It took days to cool off, and they

estimated that the iron plates and frame weighed 10,000

pounds. Later, they managed to send the beast s head on the

ram around to Saladin.

This success encouraged them to try another sally. They

armed themselves with some kind of flame projectors, and

when the crusaders rushed at them, streams of fire were

turned on the armored knights burning through cloth and

skin, and shriveling the flesh beneath. While the Christians

rolled and twisted on the ground in agony, the Moslems

turned the flames against the line of mangonels, and burned

up many of the engines.

All this was reported to Saladin by the pigeon post.

For some reason no pigeons were available to sdnd messages

into Acre, but the resourceful Arabs found another way.

Volunteer swimmers went down to the shore at night, stealing

as near as possible to the crusaders lines. Stripping oflf their

mantles, they slipped into the water; floating past the an

chored boats of the blockade, they made their way into the

harbor with gold coins and letters sealed within their belts.

Some of them were killed, and others dropped out of the

, perilous service, but one man survived and made the trip

THE FULL TIDE 125

every other night swimming back in the alternate nights.

Always his safe arrival was announced by the first pigeon

of the morning. Until the day when the pigeon brought no

word of the swimmer. Several days later his body was washed

up on the beach within the harbor. He had been drowned,

but the belt and the sealed packages within it were intact.

"Never before/ says Baha ad Din, "did a man deliver

after his death a charge entrusted to him."

No longer did Saladin s armies range the countryside.

Instead, they settled down in the base camp up the river,

building themselves barracks and shops. A steady stream of

camel strings moved into the camp with grain sacks and oil

jars, cloth and weapons. Beside the caravans walked laborers,

slaves, kadis, and vagrant nomad clans.

Around the pavilions of the sultan grew up a third city,

with makeshift mosques and covered markets. Saddle work

ers sat in their booths beside coppersmiths and barber-

surgeons who proudly displayed the teeth they had pulled

but and the corns they had cut off. Barefoot cobblers squatted

in the shade of woven mats, stitching riding boots and

slippers, while their urchins fought in the street in front

of them.

The market was enormous [a visitor from Baghdad relates]. It

had 400 shops of farriers and veterinaries. I counted 28 kettles in

a single kitchen, large enough, each one, to hold an entire sheep.

There were 7,000 booths so long had the army remained in the

same place.

The Africans had charge of the baths. They dug down an arm s

length in the ground and found water; they made a tank and a wall

to enclose it out of clay; and they covered it all with a roof of wood

and matting. In the thickets around them they cut firewood, with

which they heated the water in kettles. It cost a silver coin, or a

little more, to bathe oneself.

This was a new kind of war for the Moslem troopers a

test of endurance. Spies were sent into the Christian camp,

unarmed peasants carrying fruit or meat to sell, and they

brought back surprisingly accurate information. Baha ad

126 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Din, writing his journal in the sultan s tents, knew as well

as Ambrose in the crusaders huts what happened each day

knew how food was failing and how the last ships of the au

tumn brought in the first English contingents led by a certain

archbishop of Canterbury, a warlike prelate.

Gangs of Arabs made nightly raids upon the crusaders

horse lines and seldom returned without trophies of some

kind. They even crept through the guards. Clad in black,

and moving as silently as animals, they stole into the huts

where men lay sleeping and awakened the sleepers with

knives at their throats. Holding fast their prisoners, they

explained by signs that an outcry would result in a slit throat.

Then they stole back with their captives through the lines.

As the autumn passed, the Christian leaders the arch

bishop and Count Henry and Conrad the marquis made

a sortie in force to get possession of a supply of provisions

the Moslems had left by the palm grove of Haifa, in the

shadow of CarmeL They crossed the river and marched in a

compact column between the swarms of Moslem horsemen,

the Templars and the English keeping the rear.

They were out in the open country for three days, and

Saladin, lying helpless in the grip of fever, fretted himself

with worrying because he could not take the saddle against

them. And after three days of fighting they cut their way

back again to the Christian camp without the provisions,

that the Moslems had had time to remove.

So the balance held even between the two hosts. If food

was scanty in the crusaders camp, it was still more so in the

city of Acre; if an epidemic swept through Saladin s open

camp, it raged more disastrously among the Christians.

The two sides were so accustomed to the sight of each other

[Baha ad Din relates] that the Moslem soldiers and the Prankish

soldiers sometimes ceased fighting to talk. The two throngs mingled,

singing and dancing together, after which they returned to fighting.

Once they said, "We have been fighting for a long time let us

stop a while and allow the boys of the camps to show what they

can do." So they matched two parties of boys, who struggled to

gether with great eagerness. One of the young Moslems, seizing a

THE FULL TIDE 127

young infidel, lifted him off the ground and threw him down,

making him a prisoner.

A Frank who was watching came forward and redeemed the

captive for two gold pieces. "He was your prisoner/ the Frank

said, to the victorious youth.

The rains began again, but brought no respite this time.

The chronicles yield glimpses of the good and ill fortune of

both sides the death of the duke of Swabia grain ships

coming from Egypt at sunset in a rising storm the ships

driven upon the shore by Acre, while Moslems and Christians

fought to carry off the precious cargoes. . . . Part of the weak

ened city wall falling, and the garrison building it up anew

under the swords of the advancing knights ... a surprise

attack upon the wall by a single ladder, that almost pre

vailed . . . Saladin, debating for long hours with his amirs,

and in the end deciding to relieve the garrison . . . The war

worn garrison taken off by the ships that brought fresh men

in under command of Meshtub, the Kurd, during the storms

. . . Karakush still in command. . . .

Even Ambrose, watching this struggle of unyielding mul

titudes, felt that something rather epic was taking place

before his eyes. He knew, it seems, the legends of antiquity

and the songs of the elder minstrels. He tried in his own

crude verses to make clear what he felt:

Seigneurs! Not of the death of Alexander

Whose passing made such direful clamor,

Not of Paris, nor of Helen,

Who had from their amour such pain,

Nor of Arthur s deeds, of Brittany,

Nor of his hardy company.

Nor of the stalwart Charlemagne

Whom jongleurs sing so merrily

Do I know the verity.

I can not say, *tis truth or lie.

But of what befell this host of Acre

The cold, the ills, the pain they suffer

All that I can relate indeed,

And good it is for you to heed.

128 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

In winter that brings the wind and the rain, it is then that the

little folk of the host of Acre had so much misery. Famine had come,

and day by day it grew greater. All went well enough, it is true,

until Christmas, but when the time of Christmas passed, the lack

of things was felt. A man could carry a cask of grain easily enough

within his elbow yet it weighed upon him greatly because it cost a

hundred besants. A single egg sold for six deniers.

Seigneurs, I say in all truth that they skinned good war horses,

and ate their meat voraciously. A crowd gathered around whenever

a horse was killed, and a dead horse sold for more than it had ever

been worth alive. Even the entrails were eaten. When the men who

had money wished to share provisions with others they could not,

because so many people came to demand food. Without the herbs

they had planted from seed and out of which they now made soup,

they could not have held out. You would have seen good sergeants,

and even nobles accustomed to wealth, watching the herbage

growing, and going out to crop it and eat it.

A sickness followed, and I will tell you about that. It was caused

by the rains that fell without ceasing, until all the host was

drenched with water. Every one began to cough, and their voices

became hoarse, while their heads and limbs swelled. 1 A thousand

died in a single day in the army. Because of the swelling, their teeth

fell out of their mouths. Many could not cure themselves because

they had no food.

Listen to a great evil and a pity! Some men, made by God in

His image, were forced by suffering to deny Him. The lack of food

was so great in the host that many of our people went over to the

Turks. They renounced their faith, saying that God could never

have been born of a woman the cross, and baptism, they re

nounced all that.

There were in the host two comrades, poor sergeants, who had

between them no more than one denier of Anjou, and nothing else

unless it was their armor and clothing. They debated how they

would use the denier what food they would buy with it, to suffice

for a day. They cast lots, by counting the hairs on bits of fur, and

finally they decided that they would buy beans. They got thirteen,

and in this number they found one that was hollow. To change it,

one of them had to go back more than seven acres, and then the

merchant would only change it after much discussion. The sergeant

*Baha ad Din says the epidemic came from intestinal fever. When Ambrose speaks

of sergeants he means the men-at-arms on foot.

THE FULL TIDE

129

returned, and they ate the beans, nearly mad with hunger. When

the beans were gone, their distress was twice as great.

Many men got along with a kind of locust bean and little nuts.

Those who were sick drank heavily of strong wine of which they

had a good supply but not having food to go with the wine, they

died by threes and fours at a time.

All the winter the famine lasted, and the men suffered, who had

come to aid God from Christmas to mid-Lent. I know this for

certain, and not by hearsay. There were provisions enough in the

host, but the merchants sold them dear.

Some men made a search for those who were most miserable the

count Henry did much good, and Sir Josselin of Montoire, who

ought not to be forgotten, the bishop of Salisbury, who did not

keep his hands closed, and likewise many others who feared God.

Supplies arrived at Tyre, but the marquis of Montserrat kept them

there and did not let them come to the host. Then they cursed the

marquis. No one knew what would happen, and people went about

without wishing to look at each other.

In spite of the famine and the general discouragement,

the siege was pressed. Before the end of Lent the first grain

ships appeared off the coast, to the delight of the common

folk who rejoiced in the fate of the Italian merchants who

had hoarded grain in the camp for still higher prices. Between

Saturday noon, when the ships arrived, and Monday, the

price of grain fell from a hundred besants to four.

In April of this year 1191 the second year of the siege

the army had new cause to rejoice. Six great ships came in,

one of them bearing the standard of France and the king,

Philip II, Augustus. With him landed a splendid group of

nobles the count of Flanders among them. The young king

had been long on the way, but he was here, and the whole

chivalry of western Europe gathered at last on the sands of

Acre.

Some of them saw a bad omen in the landing. A large white

falcon, a favorite of the king, escaped from its keeper and

soared up over the camp. The falcon came down on the wall

of Acre, to the satisfaction of the watching Moslems who

caught it at once. Later, Philip sent an envoy to Saladin to

i 3 o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

buy back the bird, but the sultan answered that it could

not be bought.

After this the French pushed the attack with new spirit,

pounding the crumbling wall with their engines. And at each

attempt, Saladin s horsemen, warned by the beating of

drums in Acre, swarmed to attack the outer line of the cru

saders camp.

Then early in June twenty-five galleys and ships sailed in

to the shore. At sight of them all work in the camp ceased,

and barons and men-at-arms thronged down to the sea.

The clamor of horns and uproar of voices greeted the leading

galley a red vessel bearing the banner of England.

That evening the tapers in the churches were lighted, and

bonfires blazed on the shore, while the crusaders sat over

their cups, or danced in the streets. And the Moslem spies

hastened to Saladin with word that Richard, king of England,

had landed.

A man [Baha ad Din explains] mighty in strength, vast in cour

age, and firm in will. Great battles had he fought, and dating was he

in war.

RICHARD AT THE WALL

E Lion Heart had reached the camp, but not the battle

line. On a pallet covered with leopard skins, under the

sun-scorched linen pavilion, he tossed and twisted in

the grip of fever, his lips and throat covered with sores. His

long, powerful arms quivered with weakness.

Yet Richard of England was in the prime of life, being

thirty-four years of age and the very figure of a king. Red

hair, with a tinge of gold, fell to his massive shoulders. His

forehead was smooth and broad, the dark eyes beneath set

wide apart. A short beard, close trimmed in the French

fashion, covered his chin.

A man he was, confident in his own strength, and intolerant

of weakness. He had a boy s generosity and love of display

a restless humor that found satisfaction in the bravery of a

tournament and the richness of a banquet board. He was

never so pleased as when he wielded lance and sword, or

tuned his own harp at a table. In every game he must have

a hand, and in war he must be the leader.

On the voyage hither he had lingered the best part of a

year to champion the quarrel of his sister with Tancred,

131

i 3 2 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

usurper of Sicily; he had exacted a treasure from Tancred,

and had made lavish gifts in return. His ships, scattered by a

storm, had been ill treated by the Byzantines of Cyprus,

and Richard had waded ashore to range the island, until he

held the Byzantine prince a captive in silver chains, and his

daughter a hostage. In the very cathedral of Cyprus he had

married Berengaria of Navarre, his betrothed. Straightway

he had embarked again with his bride, attended by his sister

and the girl princess of Byzantium, and with new treasure in

his coffers. His counselors knew not whether to rejoice in the

conquest of a rich island, or whether to bemourn the weeks

and the lives wasted in the gaining of it.

Richard himself cared not a jot for statecraft. His great

hands were shaped for sword hilt and lance shaft rather than

pen or parchment. Recklessly he had sold the royal preroga

tives in England to raise money for the crusade. He said he

would have sold the city of London, if he could have found a

chapman. In his veins ran the blood of Poitiers and Gascony

the hot blood of troubadours and errant princes and he

had lived a voluntary exile from his father s wrath at the

French court until the death of his father had brought him

the crown of England on the very eve of the crusade. Fastid

ious, overbearing, and utterly brave, he had lived until now

as a prince-adventurer. He had set out upon the crusade as

if it were a new and most joyous adventure.

And on the voyage he had mortally offended his careful

cousin, Philip, king of France a youth no more than twenty-

six years of age who had already reigned eleven years. A

patient and disillusioned soul, cowardly in the face of per

sonal danger, but unyielding where the welfare of his kingdom

was at stake. Peering into the future, pondering frontier

castles and new laws, even on the crusade, Philip was the

exact opposite of his errant cousin of England. Philip had

pledged a truce with Richard, but Richard knew that he

would break any pledge to gain an advantage. Philip be

grudged the crusade that put the careful scheming of years

to the hazard. While Richard exulted in the hazard, and

baited his timid comrade-enemy with no gentle words.

In these days Philip lingered moodily in his tent, out of

RICHARD AT THE WALL 133

joint with his surroundings, hearing uneasily that in this

Holy Land William the Good of Sicily had died, and Freder

ick duke of Swabia, and the reverend archbishop of Canter

bury. His cousin, the count of Flanders, lay dying, and even

Richard was touched by the plague. Out of twelve thousand

Scandinavians who had come in their ships, not two hundred

survived. He heard that here more men fell in a single battle

than in a year s campaigning in France. Outside the ditch

of the camp, crosses covered the clay knolls crosses as thick

as the stones in the field.

In spite of that the siege engines whirred and crashed

through the day and the night, and dust hung about the gray

wall of Acre. Great stones soared from the crusaders perriers,

falling upon the roofs within the city. From the Moslem

engines on the wall, projectiles buried themselves a foot in

the earth.

The crusaders had pushed a covered ram over the filled-in

fosse, against the base of the wall. And the Moslem engineers

cast out dry wood, covering the leather-bound roof of the

ram. They shot down Greek fire that caught in the dry wood

and burned the ram.

Then the crusaders rolled forward a new tower, higher than

the wall, and sheathed with copper. Upon this the Moslems

shot clay pots for hours. The pots broke and drenched the

structure with a fluid that did not burn. While the men

within the tower gibed at them, the defenders went on shoot

ing forth the pots until a flaming tree trunk was sent spin

ning through the air against the tower. In an instant, the

whole tower burst into flames, roasting alive the men within

it. The liquid in the pots had been naphtha,

" These Saracens shut up in the city," the veterans of

Acre said to the newcomers, " are people of great and marvel

ous haughtiness. If they were not miscreants, we would say

that we had never seen better men."

And the veterans spoke impatiently to the knights of

France and England. "Lord God, when will the assault be

given ? Here have come the most valiant kings of all Chris

tianity, and the most able in attacking. Let God s will be

done!"

134 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

While Richard threshed in a fever of eagerness on his

pallet waiting for the arrival of the bulk of his army with

the siege engines Philip-Augustus at length gave the order

to make a general assault.

In the morning [says Ambrose] every one armed himself, longing

to make the attack. You would not have been able to count all the

armed men, all the goodly hauberks, all the shining helms, all the

noble horses, all the white caparisonings, all the chosen knights.

We had never seen so many distinguished knights, so many pen

nons, so many ornamented banners. They took their posts and

advanced toward the wall and began to launch missiles, and attack.

Before them rumbled the standard of France a cart

drawn by mules, in the cart a staff as high as a minaret, bear

ing a white banner besprinkled with red, a gilt cross above it.

Around the standard pressed a chosen guard of swordsmen.

And that evening the standard rolled back again. The

wounded were carried back, and the dead. A great stretch

of the wall had been broken down, but smoke signals from

Acre had warned the army of Saladin of the attack, and fierce

counter-charges by the Moslem horsemen upon the camp

had forced the besiegers to turn to defend themselves.

"Good Lord God," the knights cried sorrowfully, "what a

poor blow we struck!"

And the harassed Philip-Augustus cried out to his men to

avenge him upon the Moslems. For he felt the heat of fever

in his veins, and his cousin the count of Flanders lay cold

and lifeless in his tent where candles burned and priests

watched.

Another fleet put in to the shore, with the last of the

French and those two captains of war, Robert earl of Leices

ter and Andrew of Chavigny, with the best of the English

men-at-arms and King Richard s engines. They went into

the battle without a day s respite.

For the besiegers, maddened by their losses^ fought now

without giving or expecting mercy. They numbered nearly

one hundred thousand and the broken wall was held against

them by no more than six thousand Moslems. Gone were the

RICHARD AT THE WALL 135

days of duels and truces. Newcomers in the camp burned

a Moslem prisoner alive within sight of the wall, and the

garrison retaliated by burning a crusader at the stake. Day

and night ^ the pounding of the engines went on, while the

English mined under the Accursed Tower, and the Moslems

drove a tunnel out to meet them. In the night Arab swimmers

carrying sacks of sulphur and Greek fire on their heads tried

to pass the blockading vessels to enter the city; they were

caught in fishing nets.

No more pigeons remained to carry news to Saladin, but a

swimmer brought out a letter from the weary Meshtub and

Karakush, commanders of the city.

"We are reduced/ the letter said, "to such weakness

that the city will be lost if you can not do something to aid

us by the morrow."

On that day, the second of July, the Christians advanced

again to attack. And Saladin came down from the hills with

all his strength his halka, the veteran guard in yellow cloaks,

the cavalry columns of ever-victorious Taki ad Din, the

mailed mamluks of Egypt led by Al Adil, his brother. On

the flanks rode the wild clans of the northern hills, Turko

mans armed with long curved blades and javelins, dark Kurds

of the east with their lances and painted shields. Beyond

them the Arab tribes hovered like birds of prey, ready to

swoop in and snatch up plunder.

Baha ad Din watched Saladin s setting out, at the first

dawn.

"This day," the worthy kadi said, "he would eat nothing,

and he only drank some cups of liquid when he was urged

by his physician. I did not assist at the battle, being kept in

my tent at Al Ayadiya by sickness; but from that place I saw

it all. Twice did Al Adil charge the enemy in person this day/

He saw Saladin leading the ranks down, as far as the dark

line of the Christian trench. He heard a new battle shout:

"Ho! Aid for Islam!"

The waves of cavalry swept against the line of the ditch

and the mud wall, and broke up into streamlets of men that

plied tiny arrows and dismounted to scramble up the glacis,

sword in hand. Dust rose over the struggling figures, and

136 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

other waves of horsemen trotted into the dust, to become

little black dots that swarmed forward where the green ban

ners flickered and the drums throbbed ceaselessly.

Al Adil charged and Taki ad Din, and the dervishes ran

between the horses, screaming, knives in lean hands, while

the imams watching in the hills intoned an endless prayer.

" This day men shall be like scattered moths > and the mountains

shall become like flocks of carded wool . . , when the Earth with

her quakings shall quake, and men shall say. What aileth her?

On this day shall she tell out her tidings. . . ."

Moslems were breaking through the trench line; they were

wielding their swords among the tents, under that veil of

dust. They were leaving their horses and breaking through.

Wounded warriors drifted back, dark with sweat and dry

ing blood, rocking in their saddles and shouting the tale of

their deeds while the fever of fighting was in them.

They told of Christian bodies filling the trench, so that the

horses could gallop upon them like a bridge. "A Frank of

enormous size mounted the rampart. His comrades passed

stones up to him from behind. He cast the stones down upon

us. We struck that man with more than fifty blows of arrows

of stones, but could not drive him from his work. He stood

against us, struggling, until one of our engineers threw a

glass pot of naphtha on him and burned him alive."

Baha ad Din listened to the tales. A veteran of the regular

army, an old man and intelligent, came up. He had pene

trated through the ditches of the unbelievers.

"Behind their wall/ he said, "there was a woman, covered

with a green mantle, who kept shooting arrows with a wooden

bow. She wounded several of us. She was finally overcome

by several men. We killed her and brought her bow to the

sultan. He was amazed at this happening."

Hours passed, and the trench line of the Christians held

fast. At twilight the Moslem cavalry withdrew from the

battle.

Not until night [Baha ad Din relates] did the sultan return to

his camp, after the last evening prayer. Broken by fatigue, and a

prey to grieving, he slept. But it was not a tranquil sleep. At

RICHARD AT THE WALL 137

daybreak he ordered the drum beaten again. On all sides the

soldiers began to form their squadrons and to take up their old

tasks.

Richard of England could endure idleness no more. He

ordered his attendants to pick up his pallet and to carry him

upon it, out to the battle. They carried it to a knoll in the

front line, where a hurdle stood, roofed over with wicker-

work. Through an opening in the wicker roof Richard could

watch the wall of Acre, and the battered summit of the

Accursed Tower at the angle where the English were attack

ing.

Raising himself on his elbow, the sick king listened to the

whir and thud of the great engines and the clang of iron darts

the rending of wood and the clatter of steel weapons. But

he could not lie there inactive while the assault went on.

Calling for his crossbow a weapon that he handled with rare

skill he began to speed his quarrels through the opening

of the bombproof.

That day the English fired the beams of the tunnel they

had thrust down, under the foundations of the square tower.

Smoke oozed up through the holes in the earth. Slowly the

tower inclined outward: it settled into the earth and leaned

toward the besiegers, but it did not fall.

Richard summoned a herald to him. "Two gold byzants

to the man who brings me a stone from yonder tower!" he

said, and the trumpeter proclaimed it from the knoll beside

him.

The men within hearing looked at the leaning tower, still

manned by Moslem archers, and hung back. The king offered

three and then four gold pieces for a stone, and groups of the

English dropped their arms to run forward with iron bars

and hammers, under the speeding arrows.

Some of them were shot down, and others fled; but several

pried stones from the tower s base and staggered back with

them to the king.

At twilight the Accursed Tower still stood. Through the

hours of darkness men labored around it like ghouls in a

great cemetery of stones. From the Christian lines they

138 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

crept forward to throw the bodies of their dead comrades

into the maw of the half-filled fosse. Thither they dragged

carcases of horses, beams, and rocks. With sword and ax

other shadows of men stood guard over them.

Peering into the haze of moonlight, helmeted archers on

the broken wall above them shot at the moving shadows.

From the yawning breaches of the wall barefoot Moslems,

wraiths tortured by hunger and lack of sleep, stole out and

felt their way along the darkness of the fosse. They carried

axes and long knives and when they came to the body of

a man or the stiffened cadaver of a horse they hacked at the

limbs until they could wrench them off and pass them back

to other laborers, who carried their burden back into the

alleys of Acre, and cast them into the sea.

So, under the impassive moon, shadows worked to fill up

the great ditch, while others toiled to clear it.

The Accursed Tower was down at last, in clouds of smoke

and drifting dust. A wide hole gaped in the angle of the gray

city wall. And, as ants swarm forth to mend a break in the

clay barrier of an ant hill, weary men thronged from the city

to tug stones into place, one upon the other to build a bar

ricade out of dismembered bodies and the broken beams of

engines; while other figures ran into the settling dust, to tear

apart the barricade. With them went the banners of Leicester

and Chavigny and the good bishop of Salisbury. Sword in

hand, they climbed over the stones, smiting and hacking and

pressing on. From straining throats came a hoarse cry:

" Christ and the Sepulcher ! "

Through the barricade they broke, stumbling and falling

under the arrows that sped down from the heights around

them. Back to back they stood in the welter of human bodies,

their long arms lashing around them. The banners rose in

the breach, and the distant watchers shouted:

"St. George for England !

One figure pushed ahead of the others. A knight, Aubery

Clement, had sworn that he would enter Acre or die that day.

And he went down under a counter-charge of desperate

RICHARD AT THE WALL 139

Turks, who fought with knives and broken swords to hold

the breach until others came up with flame throwers.

Sheets of flame licked out at the attackers, and burning

naphtha drenched them. Scorched and tortured, men who

would have stood their ground against steel fell back into

the debris of the fosse, or stumbled clear of the wall. So

were the English beaten back from the breach while the tired

Turks shouted in mockery.

But it was the last of the fire and almost the last of the

garrison s strength.

On Friday, the twelfth of July, a swimmer from the city

reached the outer shore and was brought to Saladin, with a

letter from the commanders in Acre.

The letter [Baha ad Din explains] showed that the garrison was

reduced to its last extremity too weak to defend the breach which

was very great. Only death awaited them, and they did not doubt

that all of them would be massacred if the city were carried by

assault. So they had made a treaty to surrender the place.

After reading it, Saladin summoned his officers at once to council

in the field. When they had talked together, the sultan called the

swimmer again and gave him a message disapproving the terms of

the treaty.

Saladin left the council without speaking to any one. That night

he remained sitting in troubled abstraction, when all at once we saw

fires lighted on the wall of the city and the banners and crosses

of the enemy. Their fires of joy lighted all the rampart.

Acre had fallen.

XXI

THE MAS SACRE

the surrender of the city a change came over the

survivors of the Christian host. Under the burning

midsummer sun the siege engines were left standing

unattended, like captive giants bound with ropes and chains,

and now at last permitted to repose in peace. And the men

who had labored for months without respite put aside their

armor and drank of idleness as a thirst-ridden traveler quaffs

deep of wine in the cool of the evening.

They took possession of their old quarters in the city,

and watched the throng of Moslem prisoners working with

brushes and pails of water, scrubbing the whitewash from

the walls of the cathedral that had been a mosque. Under

the white coating appeared the familiar mosaic figures of the

saints, as if they had been waiting there these four years to

welcome the Christians.

The great army of Christians felt the relaxation from the

strain; it slept fitfully at first and then heavily, dulling the

memory of pain and agonizing losses. It tried not to think

of the graves that covered the plain graves that held the

bodies of three reigning princes, six archbishops and patri-

140

THE MASSACRE 141

archs, forty counts, and five hundred men of noble rank.

And perhaps eighty thousand common men. 1 The price

paid for Acre had been too great, but the survivors of the

host felt that victory now lay with them, and that surely

now the way was open to Jerusalem.

Meanwhile, relaxing, the men who put aside their armor

became individuals again with ambitions and grievances of

their own. The men-at-arms settled old debts and went out to

look for taverns. Courtly dress appeared again in the streets,

where esquires rode in attendance upon their ladies. Other

women came down from Tyre, and of nights the tinkling

of gitterns, the clinking of cups, and the melody of the trou

badours could be heard.

And the leaders assembled in a great council to settle the

question of the kingship of Jerusalem that had divided them

into two factions. No idle question this for in the hand of

the king lay the authority of God.

In this council sat Philip-Augustus in his somber dress,

his young face prematurely lined. Beside him the long-

limbed Richard, in a rose-hued vest and hunting cap, his

great sword in its plain sheath linked to his girdle with silver.

He played with the staff in his hand, alert and amused

eager to have his say in the controversy. Behind him, the

quiet earl of Leicester, and Henry, count of Champagne

nephew of the two kings but a poor man. "Living from morn

ing to morning," the chroniclers say.

With the English sat the Templars in their white surcoats,

and the three brothers Lusignan Guy, the king in name;

Geoffrey, the warrior; and Amalric, the constable.

With the French were the dark-faced Pisans, and the

nobleman who had caused the quarrel, Conrad of Montserrat,

inscrutable, unyielding, and swift to seize upon any gain.

He had already scored a decisive advantage over the help-

accounts of the numbers involved and the losses vary widely. Moslem chronic

lers say that 120,000 Christians died at Acre. It is possible judging from the totals

given for the various contingents as they arrived that 150,000 landed at Acre.

From the heavy casualties among the leaders and well-known knights, it seems that

the losses amounted to one half the army. Such losses would be the equivalent of a

million men to-day. And they do not include the casualties of the German host in

Asia Minor.

THE FLAME OF ISLAM

less Guy. A year ago Queen Sibyl, the bride of Lusignan,

had died in the camp. By the ruling of the high court of the

barons in such a case, the younger sister of the dead woman

succeeded to the throne. But Isabel was married during

that stormy evening at Kerak to the mild and unkingly

Humphrey of Toron. Isabel, only twenty years of age,

insisted that she loved Humphrey, and she refused to be

separated from him. But her mother and Conrad s agents

beset her, troubling the girl s conscience by insinuating that

her marriage to Humphrey was no marriage because it had

taken place before her age of puberty. She yielded at last,

and the Church declared the marriage null. Whereupon

Conrad claimed her and wedded her and at once demanded

recognition of his right to the throne of Jerusalem, since

Isabel was now the queen.

There were ugly whispers that the marquis already had a

wife in Constantinople, with another at home in Italy. "In

reserve," explains Ambrose, who hated him. "And now he

married a third! That is why the good archbishop did not

fear to say that God was not present at such a wedding."

All these remonstrances the ambitious Italian brushed

aside. The daring Geoffrey, brother of Guy, cast down his

gauntlet before the marquis and Conrad ignored it. The

Templars insisted that Guy was the rightful king, but Conrad

gained the ear of Philip-Augustus even persuaded that

thoughtful monarch to claim half of Richard s conquest of

the rich island of Cyprus. (The careless Richard had accepted

Guy s side of the quarrel, and, while he gave up the half of

Cyprus, he opposed Philip-Augustus in the matter of the

kingship. The crusade had fanned the latent enmity between

the twain, and Richard openly sought the leadership of the

army.)

Now in the great council the cause was debated gravely

for the kingship of Jerusalem was perhaps the highest of

earthly honors and a compromise was reached.

Guy would have the kingdom during his lifetime, after

which it would fall to the marquis or his son. If Conrad died

first, King Richard would dispose of the kingdom as he

pleased, if he were still in the East*

THE MASSACRE 143

So they agreed. Two things are clear. The barons of Jeru

salem no longer had in their hands the choosing of the king,

as in the time of the first Baldwin; and the politics of the

West had crept into the East. Of all the high lords who sat

in that council, only Balian of Ibelin and Humphrey of

Toron belonged to the lineage of the first crusaders. The

Templars had great influence, but the leadership of the cru

sade now lay between the kings of France and England, sup

ported as they were by the powerful princes of Europe.

After the council Philip-Augustus announced his decision.

Richard s knight errantry had exhausted his patience, per

haps, but he longed to take advantage of the death of the

count of Flanders and to have the first hand in affairs at

home. Under the excuse of illness, he meant to sail back to

France at once.

Naturally, the French contingents protested, and the other

barons urged him to abide until the end of the war. The poli

tic king did consent to leave at Acre the bulk of his soldiers

under command of the duke of Burgundy. He would not

stay. So great was his desire to make haste that he begged

two swift galleys from Richard,

No protest came from Richard, although even that single-

minded warrior scented danger in the wind. Before the high

lords he made Philip- Augustus swear that he would keep

the faith he had pledged to him and would do no injury

to the vassals or the lands of England, while Richard was

absent.

The king of France took the oath readily, and broke it as

readily before the year was out.

"Instead of blessings/ says Ambrose, "maledictions fol

lowed him upon his departure/

Be that as it may, Richard Plantagenet was happy well

and hale once more, with no one to hinder him and all Pales

tine open to him. Alone Conrad dared question his acts, and

Conrad, following a policy of his own, saw fit to retire into

his citadel of Tyre, taking with him the Moslem hostages

who had fallen to the share of the French king; nor would he

emerge at the Lion Heart s summons.

For better or worse Richard became leader of the crusade.

144 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

His unbounded energy brought new spirit into the war, and

the first result of it was the massacre.

Acre had surrendered upon hard terms. To save their lives

Saladin s generals in the city had agreed to the surrender of

the place with all it held, to the payment of a ransom of

200,000 pieces of gold, to the release by Saladin of 1,600

Christian captives 100 knights selected by name among

them and to the return of the holy cross.

Saladin had been troubled when he learned the conditions.

The fulfilment of course rested with him, since some three

thousand of the garrison with the two commanders were held

as hostages by the crusaders. He had asked what time would

be allowed him to make the payment, and had been informed

that he would have three months one third of the conditions

to be met at the end of each month.

Now the first month had elapsed, and the crusaders were

eagerly awaiting the sight of the true cross, taken at the

battle of Hattin. Whenever Moslem parties appeared near

Acre, men ran out crying:

"The cross is coming!"

But it did not come. Instead Saladin sent a message, ex

plaining that he was ready to meet the first payment if the

Christians would give hostages on their part to guarantee

that they would release the prisoners at the end.

Richard, in refusing this, demanded that Saladin make

the payment without any conditions. 1 Days passed, and no

response came from the hills. We do not know what Saladin

thought, or what he was preparing to do. Doubtless he dis

trusted the crusaders, and probably he was waiting for the

arrival of some of the captives.

x Baha ad Din, who was in a position to know, but who was naturally prejudiced

against the crusaders, gives the following version of Saladin s response:

**Of two things, do one. Send back to us our comrades (the captives of the gar

rison) and receive the amount of the payment agreed upon for this term; then we

will give you hostages for all that is agreed upon for the following terms. Or accept

what we will make over to you to-day and give us hostages whom we will keep until

our comrades, held by you, have been sent out to us."

He says the Frank envoys answered:

"We will do none of that. Pay what is due now, and accept our solemn oath that

your people will be returned to you."

THE MASSACRE 145

But there is no doubt as to what Richard did. Calling a

council of the princes in Acre, he discussed the situation and

came to a decision. Twenty-six hundred Moslems of the

garrison were led out into the plain to a kind of enclosure of

blankets hung upon cords. Their hands were bound and they

were put to death by the sword or hung within sight

of the Moslem patrols watching from the hills. Of all the

hostages only the higher officers were spared.

In a frenzy of anger all the Moslem cavalry within sum

mons rode down at the crusaders, and before the execution

ended swords were clashing all over the plain. Eventually

the Moslems withdrew, to carry the tidings to Saladin.

Beyond doubt, he had not expected this. The massacre

depressed him deeply, and not for many a long day did he

show mercy to any crusaders taken captive. He did not,

however, retaliate by a slaughter of the Christians already

in his hands.

Richard s callous act roused intense feeling among the

Moslems. By the letter of the agreement he had the right to

act as he did. It must be remembered also that the crusaders

were still afflicted by their losses at Acre that the majority

of them, arriving on the coast during the tension of the siege,

still looked upon their enemies as infidels to be slaughtered

wherever met. Granting this, the fact remains that Richard

stained his name and honor by this needless cruelty, and

that Saladin did not retaliate except in the open war that

followed.

The slaughter had its afternote of comedy. The two Mos

lem commanders of Acre were held for individual ransom

Meshtub, chieftain of the Kurds, being kept for 8,000 pieces

of gold, while Karakush was thought by the crusaders to be

worth 30,000. It occurred to Meshtub to ask the figure

set for the ransom of his brother-in-arms, and his captors

told him.

"I am worth as much as he," Mesh tub protested. "By God,

Karakush will not bring 30,000 pieces if I bring only eight."

The knights laughed, and raised the old Kurd s ransom to

30,000 pieces.

Meanwhile Richard was preparing to march on Jerusalem.

146 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

By common consent the crusaders placed themselves under

his orders, although he had been on the coast for only two

months. As king of England he was of higher birth than the

remaining lords, and the command lay with him by right;

but Richard Plantagenet would have taken the lead of any

army in which he served.

It is no easy matter to perceive the real Richard, to sepa

rate him from the minstrelsy of the centuries. We would like

to know the exact nature of the man who was called the Lion

Heart, but the lines of portraiture are indistinct scarred

and dimmed by time. This much we know. Richard was born

late in life to Eleanor of Guinne, who had been the queen of

Louis, one of the leaders of the crusade of 1149 Eleanor

whose wilfulness preyed upon this monarch of the French

until Louis abandoned the crusade and divorced her. No un

toward fortune could dishearten the beautiful Eleanor, who

chose for her second husband Henry of Anjou, cunning,

passionate, and cruel. She could don man s garments and

go out against adversity; she dared rebel against her husband

after he had been anointed king of England. Henry, able

enough in all conscience, defied the Church of Rome, and

went to his death with his sons in arms against him and the

stigma of Herod upon him, after the murder of good Thomas

a Becket. The children grew up amid turmoil and the quarrels

of the courts, tasting of vice at an early age. John, weak and

covetous, inherited his father s nature, while Richard had his

mother s comeliness and dominant will. He was her favorite.

We have only glimpses of him, matching songs with the

troubadours of Poitiers, standing silent beside his father s

body, without a word of blame or promise of good-will to

the English barons who had fought against him. He plunges

into the crusade, as if longing to bury all this futile past in a

selfless venture; he desires Berengaria of Navarre for wife,

and yet sails from Messina on the very eve of her expected

arrival in the charge of Eleanor. And after their marriage he

avoids her places her with Joanna his sister, rescued from

Sicily, and the fair Byzantine girl, daughter of the Comnene,

held by him as hostage.

Seemingly he takes delight in the young Byzantine prin-

RICHARD I. COEUR DE LION

From the monument in Font-evraud.

SALADIN GAINS A VICTORY OVER CRUSADERS

The armor worn by the figures is of the Fifteenth Century, and

the artist has distinguished Saladin by a device

of the devil on his shield.

COURTESY OF DIE CHRONIK WES KR K UZFAHRK K KONICK RICHER

THE MASSACRE 147

cess perhaps makes her his mistress. Berengaria follows

him without protest, silent in her pride. The three women

shadows behind the resplendent figure of the crusader king

are housed with all splendor in the palace at Acre. They ap

pear at banquets, and Richard takes pleasure in gifting

them with luminous silks and rare Eastern jewels.

He is no whit dismayed by the losses at Acre or the deser

tion of Philip. The thing in hand engrosses him, and he exults

in the preparations for the march, buying new soldiery from

the French, inspecting the ships. He can order the slaying of

the Moslem hostages, and still send requests to Saladin for

food for his falcons. He is childishly disappointed that the

sultan will not meet him face to face in courteous talk before

the coming battle. Passing from hunting field to the banquet

table, jesting with men of all ranks, spurring on the laggards,

beating down all opposition such is the outward bearing

of the man, on the eve of the struggle.

At times he is moody, and over-tensed nerves give way

before little things. He has a Norman s canniness, and never

did crusader cast such stakes upon the board as Richard.

To come thus far, he has drained England and left his king

dom at hazard. He means no doubt to win such fortune and

glory in the Holy Land that he may return and mend matters

in the West. But he finds great powers opposing him at every

step, and he is impatient.

So for a moment the two adversaries gather their strength

for the coming struggle the champion of the West preparing

to go forth to meet the lord of the nearer East. In every

quality they are opposed: Saladin has the clear vision of age,

Richard the heedlessness of youth; Saladin is patient, Rich

ard impetuous; Saladin, unable to take part in person in the

fighting, relies upon generalship; Richard depends upon his

own prowess in battle. The sultan, a fatalist, will take long

chances he has men fit only for striking, not for defense;

the king must feel the ground before each new step, but he

has men equally effective in attack or defense.

Either of them would give his life to hold, or to take,

Jerusalem.

Richard made the first move, a wise one. Instead of seek-

i 4 8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

ing Saladin or marching inland, he started down the coast

with the fleet following after him, toward Jaffa, the port of

Jerusalem. A distance of some sixty-five miles as the crow

flies, rather more than a hundred along the trails. He set out

on August twenty-fifth of that year 1191 during the worst of

the heat when the streams were dry.

Saladin kept in touch with his movements by spies and by

mounted patrols. He ordered the walls of the three towns

between Acre and Jaffa dismantled, and the fortifications

of that seaport destroyed. And he marched south beside the

crusaders, out of sight within the hills.

XXII

RICHARD TAKES THE FIELD

FIRST the Christian army did not move smoothly.

In fact, it did not move at all. Acre sheltered a great

multitude, speaking different languages and following

different leaders. For weeks this multitude had rested in the

shade of the poplars and the palm groves.

"In the town/ Ambrose explains, "were good wines and

girls, many of whom were very fair. They gave themselves

up to the wine and the women until the valiant men were

ashamed of the others."

Richard had to pitch his tents by the sand dunes of the

river and send back his marshals to rout out the malingerers.

They emerged peevishly, overburdened with baggage. And

onsets of Moslem cavalry added to the confusion. For two

days the crusaders camped in the shadow of Mount Carmel

from the summit of which Saladin had been inspecting them

while the useless gear was discarded and the men formed

into companies. All women except hardy workers were sent

back, and each man was given ten days supplies of biscuit,

cereal, wine, and meat to carry in a pack. This done, the

great standard, an effigy of a dragon mounted upon an iron-

149

150 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

bound pole in a heavy cart, trundled forward within its

guard of Norman swordsmen. With the Templars leading,

the army crawled around the point of Carmel in close array.

Ambrose marched with them, delighted at the sight.

You would see there great chivalry,

The fairest younglings,

The chosen men, most proud.

That ever were beheld.

So many men, all confident,

So many fine armorings,

And old sergeants, hardy and proud,

So many swords fair seeming,

So many banners gleaming

You would see there a host afoot,

Greatly to be feared.

Burdened by the heavy packs, the army trudged through

the dry brush and thickets of the shore, surprised to see so

many animals scurrying away before it. Scorpions and snakes

worried the newcomers, and every day before setting out the

sun emerged from the ridge on the left hand, making a glaring

furnace of the sky, reflecting on the sand and even touching

the tranquil green sea with fire. The army clambered past the

limestone ledges of the Narrow Way, fearing that the Mos

lems would beset it.

But the sand and the brush lay empty before it, as far as

the ruins of Capernaum. The army advanced only a few

miles each day, halting at an early hour to camp. When the

men had eaten supper, and the sun had sunk beneath red

clouds into a purple sea, the air became cool and they could

sit at ease. Then one would arise, and call out the familiar

words:

"Holy Sepulcher, aid us!"

Others would take up the cry after him, repeating it as far

as the outer lines where the silent Templars kept watch in

mounted patrols. Ambrose said it refreshed them all as did

the sight of the stalwart Richard by day, mounted on

Fauvel, his bay Cyprian horse.

RICHARD TAKES THE FIELD 151

The army trudged on, down the silent coast where no sheep

grazed, and no wind stirred the dust, and even the thickets

were gray and salt and bitter. At the empty town of Caesarea

the fleet appeared, moving slowly under listless airs over the

tideless water. It brought supplies and the last laggards

from Acre.

The army [a chronicle relates] pitched its tents by a river called

the River of Crocodiles, because the crocodiles devoured two sol

diers who bathed in it. Caesarea is great in size, and the buildings

wonderful in workmanship. Our Savior with His disciples often

visited it and worked miracles there. But the Turks had broken

down part of the towers and walls.

Here the army turned a little inland for the line of the

menacing hills had receded, and the leaders decided to follow

the wells and cultivated land a few miles from the shore.

(And here, Baha ad Din relates, Saladin made a survey of

the country ahead of the crusaders and talked for a long time

apart with his brother Al Adil.)

On leaving Caesarea the Moslem cavalry appeared, skirm

ishing with the rear guard and harassing the crusaders with

arrows. But Richard or his advisers had hit upon a formation

that fairly baffled the eager foemen.

The crusaders marched in three columns. The one nearest

the hills and the Moslems was formed entirely of infantry,

in close order. Those in the outer files exposed to the Moslem

arrows carried bows and crossbows and wore shirts of felt

and mail. They worked their bows without halting, and their

armor shielded them from the hostile arrows. Within these

files, their comrades carried spears and swords in readiness

to stand and beat off a charge.

The second column, within the infantry screen, was made

up of the knights and horsemen, the real strength of the

army protected in this fashion from the arrows that would

otherwise have taken toll of the valuable horses.

Nearest the sea and remote from the Moslems marched

the third column with the carts and baggage and sick. These

men could take their ease a and a division of them changed

152 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

places every few hours with the infantry of the first column,

who could then rest in their turn.

The fighting of the first day ended at noon when both sides

wilted under the trying heat. The crusaders kept on, across a

barren stretch of sand dunes, and came to a narrow ravine,

a portion of which the Moslems had thoughtfully camou

flaged with a screen of branches to trap the horsemen of the

advance. But the Templars were not deceived, and after

testing the water and finding it good, they camped there.

The river they christened the Dead River.

On the next day [the chronicle continues] the army went on

slowly through a desolate country. The Templars had charge of the

rear that day and they lost so many horses through the attacks of

the Turks, they were almost reduced to despair. The king also was

wounded in the side by a javelin while he was driving the Turks.

Alas, how many horses fell pierced with javelins! This terrible

tempest kept up all day, until at twilight the Turks returned to

their tents.

Our people stopped near what was called the Salt River. A great

throng gathered on account of the horses which had died from

their wounds, for the people were so eager to purchase the horseflesh

that they even came to blows. The king, hearing this, proclaimed

by herald that he would give a live horse to whoever had lost his

horse and who distributed the flesh of it to the best men in his

command, who had most need of it.

On the third day our army marched in battle array from the Salt

River; for there was a rumor that the Turks were lying in ambush in

a forest, and that they meant to set the brush on fire. But our men,

advancing in order, passed the place unmolested where the ambus

cade was said to be. On quitting the wood they came to a large

plain and there they pitched their tents. Spies, however, brought

back word that the Turks lay ahead of them in countless numbers.

Saladin had inspected this plain with Al Adil, and had

chosen it for the hazard of battle. In the last two days his

horsemen had tried to coax the crusaders cavalry out of the

protecting mass of infantry, and had failed.

We had to admire [Baha ad Din says] the patience shown by

these people, who endured the worst fatigues without having mili

tary skill or any advantage on their side.

RICHARD TAKES THE FIELD 153

The Moslems, being all mounted, outnumbered the cru

saders horsemen at least five to one. Their purpose was to

induce the men of the cross to break their array to abandon

the hedgehog-like formation and to scatter over the country

side, in which case the charges of the Turkish cavalry might

overwhelm them. Richard, understanding this peril, had

ordered his men not to move out of ranks under any provoca

tion unless the signal was given to charge the simultaneous

blast of trumpets down the line.

So on that day of battle the Christians moved forward in

their dense column, like an armored giant drawing himself

painfully over the ground, heedless of the sting of missiles.

The Templars took the advance again, followed by the

Bretons and the knights of Anjou; King Guy led the men of

Poitou at their heels, and the Normans and English pressed

after with the standard. Bearing the burden of the attack,

the black-robed Hospitalers held the rear. At nine o clock,

when the crusaders were already drenched with sweat, the

two sides were engaged swarms of Bedawins and the negro

horsemen of Egypt assailing the rear.

King Richard and the duke of Burgundy with their ret

inues rode up and down the line, to steady the men.

The enemy [relates the chronicler De Vinsouf] thundered at their

backs as if with mallets, so that, having no room to use their bows,

they fought hand to hand, and the blows of the Turks, echoing

from their metal armor, resounded as if they had struck upon an

anvil. They were now tormented with the heat, and no rest was

allowed them. The battle fell heavily on the extreme line of the

Hospitalers the more so as they were unable to resist.

They moved forward with patience under their wounds, and the

Turks cried out that they were iron, and would yield to no blow.

Then about twenty thousand Turks rushed upon our men. Almost

overcome by their savage fury Gamier de Napes, one of the Hos

pitalers, suddenly exclaimed with a loud voice,

"O St. George, wilt thou leave us to be driven thus?"

Upon this the master of the Hospitalers went to the king and

said to him, "My lord the king, we are pressed by the enemy, and

in danger of eternal infamy; we are losing our horses, one after the

other, and why should we bear with them? *

154 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

"Good Master/ the king replied, "it is you who must sustain

their attack. No one can be everywhere at once."

On the master returning, there was not a count or prince who

did not blush for shame, and they said one to the other, "Why do

we not charge them at full gallop?"

Thereupon two knights who were impatient of delay put every

thing in confusion. They rushed at full gallop upon the Turks and

each of them overthrew his man, by piercing him with his lance.

One of them was the marshal of the Hospitalers, the other was

Baldwin de Carreo, a good and brave man and the companion of

King Richard. 1

When the other Christians observed these two rushing forward,

and heard them calling with a clear voice on St. George for aid,

they charged the Turks in a body with all their strength; then the

Hospitalers who had been distressed all day by their close array,

following the two soldiers, charged the enemy in troops so that

the van of the army became the rear and the Hospitalers who had

been the last became the first.

The count of Champagne also burst forward with his chosen

company, and James d Avesnes with his kinsmen, and the bishop

of Beauvais, as well as the earl of Leicester, who made a fierce

charge on the left, toward the sea. The Turks, who had dismounted

from their horses in order to take better aim at our men with their

javelins and arrows, were slain on all sides in that charge, for, being

overthrown by the horsemen, they were killed by the footmen who

followed.

King Richard, on seeing his army in motion, flew on his horse

through the Hospitalers, and broke into the Turkish infantry, who

were astonished at his blows and those of his men, and gave way

to the right and the left. Then might be seen numbers prostrate

on the ground, horses in swarms without their riders, and many

trodden under foot by friend and foe. Oh, how different is battle

from the speculations of those who meditate amid the columns

of the cloisters!

There the fierce king, the extraordinary king, cut down the

Turks; wherever he turned, he cut a wide path for himself, like a

J Baha ad Din saw this charge. "The enemy found himself more and more en

tangled, and the Moslems became expectant of victory. Then their cavalry formed in

a mass, and knowing that nothing could save them but a mighty effort, they charged.

... I saw, myself, these horsemen gathered in the circle formed by the infantry; all at

once they seized their lances and gave a great war shout; the line of infantry opened

to let them pass, and they cast themselves forward."

RICHARD TAKES THE FIELD 155

reaper with his sickle. The rest, warned by the sight, gave him wide

room.

For a long time the battle was doubtful. Oh, how many banners

might be seen, torn and fallen to the earth; how many swords of

proved steel covering the ground ! Some of the Turks hid themselves

in copses, others climbed the trees, and, being shot with arrows,

fell with a groan to the earth; others, abandoning their horses,

betook themselves to slippery foot paths. For a space of two miles

nothing could be seen but fugitives.

Our men paused, but the fugitives, to the number of twenty

thousand, when they saw this, recovered their courage and charged

the hindmost of our men who were retiring. Oh, how dreadfully

were our men then pressed! They bent, stunned, to their saddle

bows. Then you might have seen horses without saddles, and the

Turks returning upon our people. The commander of the Turks

was an admiral, 1 Tekedmus, a kinsman of the sultan; he had

seven hundred Turks of great valor from the household troops of

Saladin, each of whose companies bore a yellow banner. These men,

coming at full charge with haughty bearing, attacked our men so

that even the firmness of our leaders wavered under the weight of

the pressure. The battle raged fiercer than before the one side

labored to crush, the other to repel.

For all that, the king, mounted on a bay Cyprian steed, scattered

those he met, while helmets tottered beneath his sword. The enemy

gave way before his sword, and thus our men, having suffered some

what, returned to the standard.

They proceeded on their march as far as Arsuf, and there they

pitched their tents outside its walls. While they were thus engaged,

a large body of the Turks made an attack upon the extreme rear of

our army. King Richard with only fifteen companions rushed

against these Turks, crying out in a loud voice, " Aid us, Sepul-

cher!" When our men heard it, they made haste to follow him, and

attacked the Turks, putting them to flight.

Overcome with the fatigues of the day, our men rested quietly

that night. Whoever wished to plunder returned to the field of

battle, and those who returned thence reported that they had

counted thirty-two Turkish chieftains slain. The Turks also made

search for them.

But we had to mourn greatly the loss of James d Avesnes. On

Sunday the Hospitalers and knights of the Temple armed them-

1 An amir probably Taki ad Din.

156 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

selves and made anxious search, and at last found the body, its

face so covered with clotted blood that it was difficult of recogni

tion. Thus, having decently wrapped up the body, they bore it

back to Arsuf whence a great multitude of the soldiers came forth

to meet it.

So ended Saladin s attempt to break the array of the cru

saders in open battle. The sallying forth of two knights,

against Richard s orders, took the Moslems by surprise, and

the charge of the Christian chivalry swept all the Moslem

divisions back against the hills with heavy losses. In this

charge the men of Islam experienced for the first time the

astonishing might of the Lion Heart, and Malik Ric gained

for himself a place in Moslem legendry that endures even

to-day.

But counter-charges led by Taki ad Din and others made

the crusaders retire into their close order, and move on with

out delay to the sheltering gardens of the little seaport of

Arsuf. On the following day Saladin appeared, ready to

renew the action, while the crusaders did not take the

field.

This affair of Arsuf was hardly a battle, and certainly not a

decisive battle, as some historians have made it out, in the

past. It did prove, however, that the crusaders under Rich

ard s leadership could hold their own in ranged battle against

Saladin s forces, and it lowered the morale of the Moslem

soldiery. And it caused Saladin and his generals to change

their plan of campaign. Instead of hanging on the flank of the

Christians to draw them into action, Saladin retired to the

line of the hills and divided his forces, determined to play for

time.

To do this he destroyed instead of defending Ascalon, the

Bride of Syria. Ascalon, the southern key to Jerusalem and to

the caravan route into Egypt, was a great and fair seaport,

but the Moslem amirs were in no mood to shut themselves

up in another Acre, to defend it.

"I take God to witness," Saladin said, "I would rather lose

all my children than cast down a stone from its walls, but

it is necessary."

RICHARD TAKES THE FIELD 157

He drove his men to the grim work, recruiting an army of

workmen.

When these laborers entered the city [Baha ad Din relates] there

went up a great sound of grieving; for the city was pleasant to look

upon; its walls were strong, its houses beautiful. Its people began

at once to sell everything they could not bear away with them into

Egypt, even selling ten hens for one dirhem. They came out to the

camp with their wives and children, to sell their household things.

Some had to go off on foot, lacking money to hire beasts to carry

them. The troops, worn out with fatigue, spent that night in their

tents. This was a horrible time.

From early morning the sultan busied himself in the work of

tearing down. He gave all the corn stored in the city to the work

men. They set fire to the houses of the city. All the towers were

filled with wood and burned.

For two days the sultan was so ill that he could not ride or take

any food. He shifted the camp close to the walls, which enabled the

camel and ass drivers to share in the work. For he feared that the

Franks would hear of it and come down to forestall him.

XXIII

THE BARRIER OF THE HILLS

ICHARD S impetuous spirit was fired by the withdrawal

of the Moslems. "Seigneurs," he cried in the first

conference at Jaffa, " the Turks are destroying Ascalon

they dare not give battle to us. Let us go, to save this city."

But they did not go. The banners were planted in the olive

groves, swept by the dry north wind. The horses grazed hun

grily in the fertile fields by the canals, and the men ate eagerly

of the ripe grapes and fresh figs and almonds. They rested,

in Jaffa some of them even went back by boat to the flesh-

pots of Acre and debated what ought to be done. It seemed

to them that the wall of Jaffa must be repaired first.

And Richard, so skilled in battle, so certain of himself in

the face of the enemy, could not sway the minds of the coun

cil. Impatiently his thoughts turned to the great leaders of

the Moslems, off yonder behind the haze of dust that half

veiled the brown rampart of the hills. He sent an envoy for Al

Adil, the counselor and brother of the sultan. Al Adil came,

courteous and watchful, at the head of a brilliant cortege of

horsemen. Richard rode out to meet him, attended by Nor

man knights, with youthful Humphrey of Toron to interpret

for him.

158

THE BARRIER OF THE HILLS 159

"The war/ he said, "has lasted a long time between us.

On both sides a multitude of brave warriors have fallen. As

for us, we are come only to aid the Franks of this coast.

Make peace with them, and the two armies will retire, each

into its own country."

Al Adil was apt at this fencing with words. Quietly he

demanded upon what terms the Christians would make

peace, and Richard, perforce, answered saying that Jeru

salem must be yielded up, and the Moslems must retire be

yond the Jordan. With pride, Al Adil refused.

This meeting was reported at once to Saladin, and he wrote

to his brother, "Try to drag out matters longer with the

Franks and keep them where they are, until the Turkoman

reinforcements which are on the way have joined us/*

So Al Adil, summoned again by the English king, brought

a great pavilion with him, and gifts of camels and saddled

horses, and his cooks with a store of dainties. Not to be out

done in courtesy, Richard ordered forward his own tent, and

the two feasted therein the Moslem cooks fetching their

dishes into the crusader s quarters. Richard prepared the

feast with splendor and returned gift for gift.

Quite frankly he admired Al Adil, finding that this lord of

the pagans who could tell a merry tale or eat a whole sheep

at a sitting knew all the lore of hunt and falconry that his

pride was not less than Norman pride. Such a man could en

tertain the Lion Heart more than the wayward French

barons, or the monkish Templars who labored at the stones

of Jaffa. Thereafter Richard often sent to the Moslem chief

tain for sherbet or when fever settled upon him snow from

the distant peak of Hermon. Always Al Adil responded cour

teously, while he studied Richard.

Months later Richard was to make a friendly gesture in

recognition of Al Adil s courtesy. 1 He sent for the elder son

of the Moslem prince and knighted him with all solemnity

before the Christian lords. For the present, however, his

^The incident in Scott s novel, of Saladm*s visit in the disguise of a physician to

Richard s tent, is, of course, fiction, as it was meant to be. The king and the sultan

never met, in truce or on the field of battle. There is no evidence that Saladin sent

his physician to minister to the English king, but he did send gifts of fruit and snow

during Richard s illness.

i6o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

restless mind played with a new project that fairly took Al

AdiPs breath away.

It seemed to the English king that a marriage might mend

all the questions at issue the marriage of his sister Joanna

to the cultured and affable Al Adil. This done, he on behalf

of the crusaders and Saladin on behalf of the Moslems

would surrender their mutual holdings in the Holy Land to

the new couple and Jerusalem would be held in peace by both

sides, with pilgrims at liberty to come and go. The true cross

would be returned to the crusaders. So Richard suggested,

apparently with all sincerity. Al Adil was a little dazzled

when he reported the offer to his brother.

"Wilt thou accept?" Baha ad Din asked the sultan curi

ously.

"Yes, verily," Saladin said, thrice and smiled. He knew

the thing to be impossible, and eventually Richard had to

announce that his sister refused to marry a Moslem.

Not that Richard was idle. The skirmishing going on be

tween the horsemen of both sides gave full opportunity for

the individual combats that delighted him. He went out with

a small following to look for hostile patrols and ride them

down.

The king of England [Ambrose explains] went out to meet the

Saracens, hoping to surprise them, but once the thing turned out

badly. The king had too few with him, and it happened that he

went to sleep,

The Saracens were on their" guard, and approached so near that

he was barely awakened in time. Seigneurs, do not be surprised if

he got up in great haste for a single man beset by so many is not at

ease. But the grace of God enabled him to mount his horse: his

people mounted also, but they were too few. When the Turks saw

them in the saddle they turned and fled to their ambuscade, pur

sued by the king. Those who were hidden in the ambush rushed

out and tried to seize the king upon his horse Fauvel, but he drew

his sword.

All around him the Turks pressed each one wishing to put hand

on him but no one wishing to feel the blow of his sword. If they had

known who he was, they would have taken him. But one of his

knights, William of Priux a loyal man and proud, cried out, "I am

THE BARRIER OF THE HILLS 161

the malik" That is to say, the king. The Turks seized him at once

and carried him off to their army.

There were killed Renier de Maron, who had a valiant heart,

and his nephew. Alan and Lucas of the Stable were killed also

that is the truth. No one pursued the Turks, for they went away in

a great body, leading William a captive.

When God had thus spared the king, several, knowing his cour

age and being fearful for him, begged of him:

"Sire, for God, do not thus! It is not your affair to go on such

expeditions. You lack not brave men do not go forth alone on

such occasions, for all our lives depend upon you."

More than one valiant man took pain to beseech him. But he,

when he heard of a combat and very little could be hidden from

him he cast himself always against the Turks.

Once the Templars were guarding the foragers, when four squad

rons of Turks fell upon them with loose bridles. The combat was at

its height when King Richard arrived. He saw our people sur

rounded by the pagans. He had only a few with him, but valiant

men and chosen, several of whom said to him:

"In truth, Sire, you risk a great misfortune. Never can you bring

our people out of there, and it is better that they die than that you

perish with them."

The king changed color, and said, " I have sent them thither I

asked them to go. If they die there without me, may I never again

be called king 1 /

He gave his horse the spurs and loosened the rein; swifter than a

hawk he cast himself at the Saracens, and broke through them to the

center. He drove them back, returning on his track to strike them

again, severing their heads and arms. They fled like beasts. Many

who could not flee were taken or killed. Our men pursued them so

long that it was the hour to return to camp.

Some men, however, blamed him because of the presents he had

accepted from the pagans. But he would have delivered the Holy

Land if he had not been prevented.

October had passed, and November, while Jaffa was re

built and fresh contingents summoned up from Acre. The

orange groves around Jaffa were heavy with fruit, and the

feather grass blew brittle over the plain, under cloudy skies.

Along the line of the hills the dust veil whirled when the

north wind blew.

Little by little the crusaders had penetrated the plain,

162 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

quartering themselves in dismantled towers and riding into

the empty towns. They had gained the edge of the foothills,

and before them the road to Jerusalem ascended among

barren gullies twisting and turning around the shoulders of

the hills toward the Holy City, hidden from sight twelve

miles distant.

But they had delayed too long. Rain came on the heels of

the wind, and chilled the air. The bulk of the crusaders ex

pected to march forward to Jerusalem, while the leaders,

realizing the difficulties, had no plan at all, and Richard

could not think of one.

The days became cold [Ambrose relates]. The rain and the hail

beat against us, overturning our tents. We lost there, before and

after Christmas, many of our horses, while the storms rotted our

salt pork and melted the biscuits. The shirts of mail were covered

with rust, and many of us fell ill from lack of food.

But their hearts were joyous because of the hope they had, of

going to the Holy Sepulcher. Those who were sick at Jaffa and other

places had themselves placed in litters and brought out to the

camp. And in the camp gladness reigned they lifted their helmets

and tossed their heads, crying, "Our Lady, holy Virgin Mary, aid

us! O Lord, allow us to worship and thank Thee, and to see Thy

Sepulcher!"

Yet the high men and the captains decided that every one must

go back to Ascalon, and rebuild its walls. 1

When the news was known in the host, no one ever saw a host so

troubled and so sad. Their joy when they had thought to go to

the Sepulcher was not so great as this new grief. Some of them

could not hold their peace, and cursed the long halt and the camp.

All the host was discouraged. They did not know how to carry back

the supplies they had brought thither, because the pack animals

were enfeebled by the cold and storms. When they were loaded,

they fell on their knees, and men cursed them, consigning them to

the devil. Finally every one departed and that day we arrived at

Ramlah.

x The army was in no condition to undertake the siege of Jerusalem in the face of

Saladin s forces, during the rains. No such siege had been contemplated by the

leaders, although the French urged it. The camp had been pushed forward into the

foothills to gratify the mass of the crusaders who were impatient to see Jerusalem,

but this halfway measure only resulted in general discouragement.

THE BARRIER OF THE HILLS 163

At Ramlah was the host, and because of the discouragement, it

separated. Many of the French went away, with the duke of Bur

gundy. The king with his nephew the count Henry of Champagne

went on to Ibelin. The next day was worse than the one before.

A little after midday they reached Ascalon, which they found

broken down and destroyed they had to climb over d6bris to

enter it.

Saladin knew by his spies that our people had returned to the

shore of the sea; then he said to his Saracens that they could go

away to their country and rest until May, They went willingly,

having remained four whole years in Syria.

Although Richard labored at rebuilding Jaffa, the first

weeks of the new year 1192 saw the crusaders thoroughly

disorganized. The French, their supplies and money ex

hausted, besought the English king for a loan; the duke of

Burgundy went from Richard s side to talk with Conrad,

who was secretly negotiating with Saladin offering to make

open war on Richard if the sultan would pledge him more

of the coast cities. The Normans and English mocked the

French, saying that they held wine goblets instead of swords

in their hands, and that they filled the houses of the prosti

tutes in Acre so that their comrades had to break down the

doors to get in.

The Genoese and Pisans who had given sturdy aid from

the first now had time to covet the coast ports and to brood

upon their ancient feud, and they started a war of their own

in the streets of Acre, pulling the duke from his horse when he

tried to intervene. Richard rode in haste up to the rioting,

and managed to bring some order out of chaos.

He assembled all the captains in conference, and listened

to their grievances. And he had to taste the dregs of his own

failure to lead them. Because they explained that they were

weary of delay and of the figurehead of Guy, who could never

be a king in deed they thought the only man who could

make head against the Moslems was Conrad of Montserrat.

They wanted Conrad to bring the factions together and to

lead them as king of Jerusalem so they pleaded, on their

knees.

In silence Richard heard them. Like a bird of ill omen,

164 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

word had come over the sea from England. The prior of

Hereford had brought him a letter from William, bishop of

Ely, and he knew that his affairs in England went badly. His

brother, the earl John, had driven out his chancellor and

seized upon the exchequer.

He listened to the crusaders, and dismissed from his mind

his own quarrel with Conrad, giving his assent to the election

of Conrad and the retirement of Guy. To compensate the

unhappy Lusignan, Richard made over to him the island of

Cyprus.

Messengers were sent to Tyre to announce the decision of

the council, while the crusaders rejoiced, making ready their

scant robes of ceremony and furbishing their arms for the

coming coronation. But their rejoicing was silenced within a

few days, when a strange power from beyond the mountains

intervened in their affairs,

Conrad, riding home from a banquet at the house of the

bishop of Beauvais, was attacked by two young men without

cloaks and stabbed. The Assassins who once had menaced

Saladin struck down the marquis before his coronation. In

the general consternation, many tales were repeated of his

death, but the account of the Syrian scholar Abulfarag,

written years later, is the clearest.

Two men of the Ismailites clad in the habit of monks rushed

upon the marquis who was mounted on his horse. One of them

struck him with a knife; the other fled into a church, near by. In

truth, the wounded marquis was carried into this same church by

his companions. When the monk who was the companion of the

assassin beheld the marquis alive and speaking, he rushed out at

him in the middle of the church and struck him again, and straight

way he died.

These two Ismailites, seized and crucified and tortured by the

Franks, said that the king of England had sent them. And because

of the enmity which had been between thern, the Franks believed

the words of these cutthroats. However, it was manifest afterward

that the sidna y chief of the Ismailites, sent them. 1

Assassins were also called Ismailites. "Sidna" means simply "our lord"

and was one of the general tides of the master of the Assassins. Histories have de

voted many pages to the charge that Richard instigated the murder of Conrad.

THE BARRIER OF THE HILLS 165

The death of Conrad the one man Saladin feared healed

the long feud that had divided the crusaders. At Tyre the

French assembled to discuss the situation, and Henry of

Champagne, riding into the city by chance, was seized upon

by them as the man to take the crown awarded the dead mar

quis. Henry, young and amiable, had no enemies, and he was

nephew to both Richard and Philip-Augustus. They urged

him to marry the widowed Isabel at once,

Far in the south, Richard heard the news of Conrad s

assassination while he was boar hunting, and for a space he

was silent in astonishment.

"Sir Sergeants, this is my word let Count Henry take

the city of Acre and Tyre," he said at length, "and the

whole of the land, if it please God, for ever. As to his mar

riage with the widow, I have no advice to give, for the

marquis had her unlawfully. But tell the count in my name

to take the field as speedily as possible and bring the French

with him."

So, after Easter-tide, Henry married the youthful Isabel,

and the crusaders assembled around his standard. Conrad

had been removed from Saladin s path, but the Lion Heart

remained.

And the English king, determined but irresolute as always

when the responsibility of a campaign was laid upon him,

bethought him of sending envoys to Saladin.

"Greet the sultan," he instructed his messengers, "and

He was accused of it when he was taken prisoner later in Austria. Even so distin

guished a scholar as Von Hammer argues that Richard was guilty.

Baha ad Din and other Moslems after him say that Richard caused the murder.

But Baha ad Din clearly is repeating the gossip of the camps at the time. The state

ment of the two fedawis, the murderers, under torture is no evidence, and the curi

ous forged letter that appeared later supposed to have been written by the master

of the Assassins to absolve Richard is meaningless.

On the other hand, such a murder would have been utterly out of keeping with

Richard s character. There is no indication that he was ever near the country of

the Assassins, or that he had any dealings with them. The charge laid against him

is without evidence to support it.

Conrad is supposed to have come into conflict with the master of the Assassins,

who was a distant neighbor. The marquis was scheming at the time to get possession

of Beirut and Tripoli, two ports near the Assassins strongholds, and his election to

the kingship would have made him a formidable enemy of the order. There is no

reason to doubt the truth of the summing-up by Abulfarag, quoted above.

166 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

say that the Moslems and the Franks are reduced to the

last extremity, and the resources of the two sides in men

and material are exhausted.

"As for Jerusalem,, we are determined never to give it up,

so long as a single man remains to us. You must return the

land to us as far as the Jordan. As for the sacred cross, to

you it is a bit of wood without value; but in our eyes it has a

very great value. Will the sultan have the graciousness to

send it back to us?"

After consulting with his amirs, Saladin answered:

"Jerusalem is as much to us as it is to you, and has more

value in our eyes for it was the place of the Prophet s night

journey to heaven and will provide the place of assembly for

our people at the Judgment Day. Do not think that we will

give it up to you. The land was ours in the first place, and it

is you who have come to attack it.

"If you were able to take it once, that was only by surprise

and owing to the weakness of the Moslems who held it then.

So long as the war will last, God will not permit you to raise

stone upon stone there. As for the cross, its possession is a

great advantage to us, and we can not give it up except for

some gain to Islam."

And to his officers the old sultan spoke emphatically:

"If we make peace with these people down there, nothing

will guarantee us against their bad faith. If I were to die, it

would be difficult to get together such an army as this again.

The best thing to do is to carry on the holy war until we have

driven them out of the shore or until we are struck down by

death."

XXIV

THE CARAVAN

UMMER came again to the Holy Land the fifth summer

since the yellow banners of the sultan had been car-

ried across the Jordan. Green were the foothills, where

the sentinel poplars stood; clear the streams that wound be

tween dark cedars and shining rims of marl and red sandstone

down to the lush grass where the sheep grazed, and cloaked

figures watched. The herds fattened upon the good grazing

and there was a sound of bees in the warm air. Only the fig

ures of the men, alert in their watching, unwieldy in their

iron sheathing, were somber and intent upon the task of war

that had been begun long since by forgotten grandsires, but

had not yet been finished in this quiet land.

Upon them lay the burden of the war and they went on

with it, turning aside from the fields that awaited the plough

and the empty villages. It had become a part of them, as it

had been a part of the vanished men of Antioch, and the

ghosts of Hattin. It gathered them in the shadow of the high

walls and sent them forth at night where no roads led.

Down in the plain the crusaders said, one man to the other,

that a miracle had taken place in the Sepulcher that Easter

tide. Saladin had come to the Sepulcher, to sit before the

167

168 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

darkened tomb where the dark lamps hung and a hand in

visible had lighted the lamps before the eyes of the Moslems.

Surely the lighting of the lamps had been a sign and a portent.

Along the plain rode King Richard and his men. They

stormed the fort of Darum, and slew every Moslem within

the walls. They rode on, to the gardens of Gaza, among the

sand dunes. But there were whispers of messengers that

summoned him home across the sea. His followers talked of

a wrong-doing in England, of a composition between the

earl John and King Philip by which he would lose England.

Some said that he would go away, and others said that he

would remain in the Holy Land to the end of the war.

The crusaders talked among themselves and agreed that,

if he went, they would still go on to Jerusalem. They re

joiced at that. Only the king was troubled by his thoughts.

He meditated apart from his men, and flung himself alone

upon his cot when his tent was pitched. At such a time one

William of Poitou, a chaplain, beheld him. The chaplain

walked back and forth before the tent entrance, not daring

to speak to him, but weeping.

The king called him in and spoke. "By thy faith, what

grief makes thee weep?"

"Sire," said the priest, "will you pledge me that you will

not be angered if I speak?"

Richard pledged his word, and the chaplain mustered his

courage.

" Sire, they blame you. Through the host runs the rumor

of your return. May the day never come, in which you will

leave us. O King, remember what God hath done for you

for no king of this time hath suffered less harm. Remember

when you were count of Poitou, there was no neighbor so

powerful your arm did not overthrow him. Remember the

Braba^ons you discomforted so often, and that good adven

ture at Hautefort when the count of St. Gilles besieged it.

Remember how your kingdom came to you without need of

shield or helmet, and how you stormed the city of Messina,

and that fine exploit at Cyprus when you put an emperor

in chains and the capture of Acre. How often hath God

aided you? Think well, O King, and protect this land of God.

THE CARAVAN 169

All of those who love you say that if you leave it without aid,

it will be lost and betrayed."

Silence fell upon the tent, for those in attendance upon

Richard dared not open their lips, and the king uttered no

word. Chin on hand, the red-haired king meditated, and the

chaplain stole away. The next day the Lion Heart summoned

his herald and bade him go through the host, before the gates

of Ascalon, and proclaim that for no earthly quarrel or any

urging would King Richard leave the Holy Land until the

coming Easter. And that all should make ready to march

on Jerusalem.

And the host exulted, tumultuous as birds at the dawning

of day.

"Now, we shall see the Sepulcher!" men said.

The great lords hastened to put their equipment in order,

and the small folk made up packs holding a month s provi

sions. A long column set out upon the road, and through the

dust helmets gleamed above the shields emblazoned with

devices of lions or flying dragons. The marching men made

haste, to Blanche Garde and the ruined Toron of the Knights,

to the foothills and the hamlets of Beth Nable where they

were joined by the French, at the mouth of the ravine through

which winds the road to Jerusalem.

Perforce they halted there, for the Moslem cavalry beset

their patrols and attacked the baggage trains coming up from

the coast. While the earl of Leicester and the French engaged

the enemy horsemen, the host set to work shaping timbers

for siege engines. But Richard found something else to do.

Into the camp at Beth Nable rode three men in Turkish

dress three men born in Syria and speaking the language

like Moslems. They were the king s spies and they had come

from Egypt with news. The first great caravan of the summer

was on its way from Cairo into the East. They had watched

it winding, an endless stream of camels bound nose to tail,

of mounted warriors and laden donkeys, whole families with

slaves and goods, moving slowly across the dunes of the Jifar,

circling far from Ascalon. Thousands of laden beasts, hun

dreds of armed men, forging along the desert road down to

170 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the Dead Sea. By now they would be passing through the

bare spurs of the hills south of Hebron.

Richard lost not an hour in setting out. Choosing a thou

sand riders and another thousand men-at-arms to sit the

cruppers behind them, he mounted Fauvel that evening and

headed south. A full moon climbed over the bulwark of the

hills, and for a while they rode in the shadow of the heights

with a haze of light of the plain beside them. Solitary watch

towers gleamed white above them.

But they had been seen. Moslem couriers galloped to

Saladin, and the sultan ordered an escort to hasten down to

warn the men of the caravan and to lead it away from the

trail out into the blind breast of the desert. His officers out

stripped the crusaders, without sighting them since they

lay hidden in the ruined walls of a town during the next

day and reached the caravan. But, with no danger in view,

the Moslems of the caravan were reluctant to leave the road

and its wells. At the end of the afternoon they camped by the

well of El Khuweilfa, where the beasts were watered the

escort of warriors going out to pitch their tents a little in

advance of the multitude of the caravan that surrounded the

well.

At Khuweilfa there was a cistern beside the well, but even

with that, it took long hours to water several thousand ani

mals, and the caravan lay passive, after its commander gave

orders that no one was to start until the following morning.

All this was related to Richard by some friendly Bedawins

who had come to the ruined town with their tidings, that

evening. The English king thought they were lying, but he

decided to go to see for himself. Taking some Turcoples for

his only guard, and putting on an Arab head cloth, rings, and

khufieh, he bade the Bedawins lead the way to the well. 1

Ambrose does not say that Richard went with the Turcoples, but Baha ad Din,

who heard the stories of the survivors of the caravan, is quite clear that he did.

"When this was reported by some Arabs to the king of England he did not be

lieve it, but he mounted and set out with the Arabs and a small escort. When he

came up to the caravan, he disguised himself as an Arab and went all around it.

When he saw that quiet reigned in their camp and that every one was fast asleep,

he returned and ordered his men into the saddle."

Ambrose and De Vinsouf give the incident of the challenge by Moslem sentries.

THE CARAVAN 171

Cutting across the hills and riding swiftly avoiding the

watch towers on the trails they drew near El Khuweilfa

after dark but before the rising of the moon. They reined in

their horses and went forward slowly, and almost at once

they were challenged by Arabs on a hillock.

The Bedawins motioned Richard to be silent, and one of

them answered the outpost.

"We went toward Ascalon to see if it was God s will that

we should find plunder. Now, we go back to our place/

"Nay/ cried the voice from the darkness, "y e have come

out to look at us and your place is with the king of Eng

land."

"Yallah!" the Bedawins swore. "That is a lie."

They did not check their horses, moving on toward the

black shape of the caravan. Several men mounted and rode

after them, but lost them in the darkness wherein scores of

figures moved around the animals. Richard and his com

panions walked their horses around the bivouac, until they

made certain of the size and situation of the encampment.

Then they hastened back to the crusaders.

The raiders fed their horses and ate a little themselves; in

the clear moonlight they made their way out of the hills,

approaching El Khuweilfa in the murk before dawn. This

was an hour that warmed Richard s heart he divided his

men into companies, bade the French follow on his heels,

and the foot soldiers follow the knights. His herald went

among them, warning the dark groups not to pause for any

plundering.

Headlong they charged into the first tents, which happened

to be those of the armed escort, not the caravan. Egyptians

and soldiers alike tumbled out of their sleeping robes and

ran for their horses, to be cut down by the long swords of the

knights. Some of them were able to saddle their beasts, and

drew off toward a height where they held their ground.

Meanwhile it grew light and the crusaders sighted the

main caravan, turning their attention to it at once. The

plain became a chaos of swerving horses and running men,

frightened camels staggering up roaring, and women scream

ing. Richard s Bedawins snatched loot by the armful and

172 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the drivers joined forces with them. Through the confusion

moved the armored forms of the great English lords, the

earl of Leicester and the knights of Anjou for the fighting

went on stubbornly until the sun rose and the mounted

Moslems withdrew. They managed to take away under the

eyes of the crusaders two portions of the great caravan that

had camped elsewhere.

But the raiders found wealth under their hands. Mule

loads of spice and chests of gold and silver, with rolls of

brocade stands of weapons and any amount of pavilions

and fine cloths. They counted more than four thousand cam

els, and as many horses, and investigation yielded rare

things indeed suits of silvered mail, and chessboards,

medicines, and silver dishes. Most welcome of all was the

great stock of provisions barley, grain, and sugar.

They took five hundred prisoners, and made them lead

away the laden animals.

When they returned to the army at Beth Nable they were

greeted joyfully, but they heard ominous tidings. Spies re

ported that the Moslems had destroyed the wells and filled

up the springs around Jerusalem.

All the exultation of the raid left Richard, hemmed in

again by these multitudes of men praying to be led toward

Jerusalem, while the grim Templars shook their heads.

He fell moody again, watching through the hours of the nights

when the sluggish face of the moon reared above the black

ravine, and the cool night air stirred. Up yonder hidden eyes

watched in the shadows and death lay in wait. Up yonder

there was no water by the walls of Jerusalem white in the

moonlight. The very ledges of rock took shape in the night,

rising like battlements before him, inanimate and forbidding.

XXV

BAHA AD DIN-S TALE

VERY move of the crusaders was reported daily to

Saladin by his spies and scouts. He knew that they

were assembling at Beth Nable to besiege Jerusalem,

and he felt suspense growing among his own men, wearied

as they were by the ordeal of Acre and the rout at Arsuf.

Without respite he directed the work of preparation for the

decisive conflict. In the saddle before sun-up, he watched his

masons raising the walls; he divided the circuit of the walls

among his amirs, while gangs of laborers hauled up stones for

the engines. At times he even dismounted to go among them

and carry stones himself.

Every one knows [Baha ad Din relates] that in the land around

Jerusalem it is useless to dig wells to find drinking water, the ground

being nothing but a mountain of very hard rock. The sultan was

careful to cut off all the waters found around the Holy City, to

stop up the springs, to ruin the cisterns, and to break down the

wells. There remained not a drop of water fit to drink outside the

walls. He also sent the order into all the provinces to hasten troops

toward him.

173

174 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

On the Wednesday after the loss of the caravan the old

Kurd called his amirs into council to announce to them his

plan for the defense of Jerusalem. They thronged into his

pavilion and seated themselves about the carpet, whispering

together. Many faces were missing from the circle. Al Adil,

the shrewd and resourceful, had been sent to quell a revolt

beyond the Euphrates, and Taki ad Din, who had been the

sword-arm of the sultan, had been laid in his grave on the

eastern frontier when Saladin had held in his hand the let

ter announcing his death, he had sent away all the attendants

from the tent, and had wept, fingering the broken seals of

the missive. But El Meshtub, commander of the Kurds, was

back again, ransomed. At his coming who had cost Saladin

dear by the harsh terms of his surrender the sultan instead

of reproaching him had risen from his seat to take him in his

arms, saying that he had endured more than any of them at

Acre.

Meshtub was seated again with the newcomers Aboul

Heidja the Fat, who could barely move once he was down on

his heels, and the lean Turkomans from the east. Asad ad

Din, the veteran, was there, and Baha ad Din, who from his

master s side scanned the ring of faces intently.

Saladin, leaning toward the kadi, bade him speak for a

little on the war. And while the learned man was talking,

Saladin mustered his thoughts, knowing well that these

chieftains were balancing between zeal for his cause and

dread. For they feared that a siege of Jerusalem would be a

second Acre, and they longed to keep to the open country.

What followed is told by Baha ad Din.

The sultan remained silent some time in the attitude of a man

who reflects and we respected his silence. The amirs seemed to be

in the best of moods, but their inner feelings were very different.

They said to a man that the presence of the sultan in Jerusalem

would be no advantage, and might be a peril for Islam that they

would hold Jerusalem themselves while he kept the outer country

as at Acre, to surround the Franks. Then he spoke.

"The praise to God. To-day you are the only army of Islam.

Only you are capable of confronting adversaries such as we have

now before us. If you withdraw may it not please God the

BAHA AD DIN S TALE 175

enemy will roll up the country as you would roll up a leaf of parch

ment. On you alone depends the safety of the Moslems, every

where. I have spoken."

El Meshtub then took the word.

"By God, I swear that while I live, I will not cease to aid thee!"

Others answered likewise, and this cheered the spirit of the sul

tan. He had the customary supper served and after that every one

retired.

Thursday ended in great preparation and bustle. In the evening

we attended again upon our prince, and watched with him a part

of the night, but he was not at all communicative. We made the

last prayer, which was also the signal for all of us to retire. I was

going out with the others when he recalled me. So I sat down again

at his side, and he asked me if I had heard the latest news. I an

swered, no.

"To-day I have had a communication," he said, "from Aboul

Heidja. The amirs and mamluks held a gathering in his quarters,

and blamed us for wishing to shut ourselves up in the city. They

said that every one would undergo the fate of Acre, while all the

outer country would fall to our enemies. They think it would be

better to risk a ranged battle; then, if God gave us victory, we

would be the masters; if defeated, we would lose Jerusalem, but

the army would be saved."

The letter also contained this clause: "If you wish us to remain

in the city, stay with us or else leave a member of your family

for the Kurds would never obey the Turks, and otherwise the Turks

would no longer obey the Kurds."

Knowing by this that they did not intend to remain in the city,

the sultan had a grieving at his heart. He had for Jerusalem an

attachment that can hardly be conceived, and this message caused

him pain, I spent that night with him. It was the eve of Friday

in the dry season, and no person other than God made a third

with us.

We decided to place in the city his great-nephew, son of Ferrukh

Shah and lord of Baalbek. At first he thought of shutting himself

up in the Holy City. We watched and prayed together.

At daybreak he was still awake, and I begged him to take an

hour s rest. I went out to my quarters but had no sooner arrived

than I heard the muezzin call to prayer, and for a while I made

the necessary rinsings in water, since the day was beginning to

break. As I sometimes made the morning prayer with the sultan,

I went back to him and found him finishing his ablutions.

176 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

"I have not slept a single moment," he said to me.

"I know that."

"How could you know it?"

"Because I have not slept myself there was not time.

After making the prayer together, I said to him: "An idea has

come to me. May I submit it to you?"

He replied, "Speak!"

"O my lord, thou art overwhelmed with cares. To-day is Friday,

in which all prayer is three-fold effective, and here we are, in a most

suitable spot. Let the sultan make the ablutions, with bowings and

prostrations, and confide the keys of his problem to the hand of the

For the sultan believed sincerely in all the tenets of the Faith,

and submitted himself without misgiving to the divine wisdom. I

left him then, but afterward, when the hour arrived, I made the

prayer beside him in the mosque of Al Aksa^and I saw him make

two bowings and prostrate himself, murmuring in a low voice. I

saw the tears drip upon his grizzled beard and fall to the prayer

rug.

In the evening of the same day I resumed my usual attendance

upon him, and at that time a dispatch arrived from Djordic who

commanded the advance guard [confronting the Franks]. We read

these words:

"All the army of the enemy has just drawn up, mounted, on the

crest of the hill and then retired to its camp. We have just sent

spies to find out what is happening."

Saturday morning another dispatch came in, reading as follows:

"Our spy has just come back and tells us that a dispute divides

the enemy, some wishing to push on to the Holy City and others

intending to return to their own territory. The French insist on

marching upon Jerusalem. We have left our own knd, they said,

* to regain the Holy City, and we will not return without taking it.

"To that the king of England replied, From this point on, all the

springs have been destroyed, so there is no water left near the city.

Where, then, can we water our horses?

"Some one pointed out that they could have water at Tekou a,

a stream which runs about a parasang from Jerusalem.

" How, said the king, could we water our beasts there?

" We will divide the army, they replied, into two bodies, one of

which will mount and ride off to the watering place while the other

remains near the city to carry on .the siege, and every one will go

once a day to Tekou a/

BAHA AD DIN S TALE 177

<c< When one part of the army goes to drink with its animals, the

garrison of the city will sally out and attack the others who remain,

the king answered, and that will end it. 1

"They decided finally to choose among the best-known men three

hundred persons who would in turn pass on their powers to a dozen

individuals who would then choose three to decide the question.

And they spent the night waiting for the decision of the three."

On the next morning we received another message. The Franks

had broken camp and were on their way back to Ramlah.

Saladin had triumphed and Richard had failed, without

giving battle. And the reason for this was that the Lion Heart,

the mightiest man of them all in single combat, became

helpless when he took command of the army.

1 Ambrose gives this account of Richard s decision to turn back;

"The French urged him many times to lay siege to the Holy City. The king said,

* We are far from the sea, and the Saracens would come down to cut off our supplies.

Then the circuit of the city is so great that so many men would be needed . . . that

we could not keep the host from being attacked by the Turks. And if I should lead

the host, and if I should besiege Jerusalem under these conditions, and if misfortune

befell the host, I should be for ever blamed and dishonored. It is not to be done."

Richard then left the decision to the men selected by the council, who seem to

have been Templars and Hospitalers for the most part. Another chronicler, De

Vinsouf, says that if they decided to go on, Richard offered to go with them not as

leader but as a soldier in the ranks.

As to the final verdict, Ambrose says:

"Those who had sworn and determined not to go on explained their reason

that no water could be found for beasts or men, without great labor and danger.

It would be the season of great heat, and no water could be found without going two

leagues into a district filled with enemies."

XXVI

SALADIN STRIKES

E pliant steel of Saladin s patience had broken the

iron courage of the crusaders. As iron snaps asunder,

the army broke up into fragments once it had turned

its back upon the hills of Jerusalem* Angered past reconcilia

tion, the French went off to the north; the pilgrims and mas-

terless men trailed down to Jaffa, while the Italian soldiery

hastened to their citadels of trade along the coast, and only

the Templars and Hospitalers remained to guard the new

wall of Ascalon.

Richard went at once to Acre, as a man hurries from a

long ordeal. His thoughts he kept to himself. Beyond doubt,

4 he was impatient to embark for England where he was sorely

needed, and had only lingered this long because the crusaders

had insisted on marching to Jerusalem. So long as they turned

their faces toward the Holy City, the pride of the Lion Heart

would not let him forsake them.

Now, with failure accepted, his hands were free. As a boy

casts aside a once-cherished toy for a new plaything, he

started toward the sea. Not before he had done two mad

178

SALADIN STRIKES 179

things. In solemn conference he approved a plan to march

against Cairo, after his departure, promising the aid of some

three thousand English and Normans although even the

minstrel Ambrose saw the hopelessness of such a move.

And, impatiently, he sent envoys to find Al Adil and bid the

sultan s brother make terms for the crusaders.

Still, he clung to the hope of fair terms, saying that he

would not relinquish half-ruined Ascalon. And on his way to

embark after joining the queens at Acre he ordered his

own followers to make ready to take ship for Beirut to win

this fertile northern port for the crusaders. He paid no heed

to the gibes of the French, or to the song they sang in the

taverns. For they made up a song about a coward and a king

that stung the pride of the red-haired warrior.

So matters were, when Saladin seized his opportunity. He

roused his amirs, shook from them the inertia of the year s

defensive caution, and launched his horsemen straight down

from Jerusalem to Jaffa.

They came like a sword thrust out of the night, twenty

thousand mounted men with siege engines on camel and mule

back, and an exulting mass of Arabs clinging to their flanks.

They drove the surprised crusaders from the fields and sub

urbs and started to pound with rocks and iron javelins at the

gate of the wall toward Jerusalem.

Some five thousand Christian men-at-arms were penned

within the wall and in the tumult they manned their defenses

sturdily, while a ship sped to Richard at Acre with tidings

of the attack. The first rush of the Moslems was beaten back,

and the sharp check cooled the spirits of the Turkomans

who had no sympathy with sieges. It needed all Saladin s

urging to drive them to the assault, and for three days the

Sultan s mangonels gnawed at the gate until it was brot

down and a breach of two lance lengths opened in the?

beside it.

Then the Moslems scented victory, and flung themselves

at the gap under a storm of arrows, their long scimitars swing

ing and crashing into the close ranks of the crusaders. Climb

ing over bodies and broken stones, the exultant mamluks

forced the breach and drove the Christians through the

i8o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

streets, up the slope to the little citadel on a rocky height

above the sand of the shore.

After them swarmed the Turkoman clans and the Arabs

nearly maddened by the rich plunder around them in dwell

ings and shops. Beating in the door of a monastery, the Mos

lems fell to hacking the bodies of the monks, killing them

slowly to enjoy their torture. A church was ransacked and

burned, and smoke poured up from the alleys where the

looters snatched and screamed.

They were beyond all control of their officers. Finding wine

casks in the houses, they beat in the heads of the casks and

let the wine run underfoot; they forced captive women and

children to drive the herds of swine together in one place and

then left the bodies of the Christians strewn among the car

cases of the abominated swine.

Some of the fugitives climbed into boats drawn up on the

gray sand of the shore, while others struggled to launch the

boats. Alberic of Rheims, the commander of Jaffa, tried

to escape in one of these vessels, but his knights pulled him

back and led him up to a tower of the citadel. Few survived

here some two thousand it seems and their situation was

the more hazardous because the wall of the citadel had not

been entirely rebuilt before the Moslem attack. Alberic of

Rheims saw no hope for them. "We can do nothing here

except give up our lives," he said. The patriarch, a gigantic

man who had escaped the contagion of fear, had sterner stuff

in him. He rallied the people, reminding them that a ship

had been sent to Acre for aid three days ago. If the assistance

did not come, they could beg Saladin for terms.

Saladin tried to restore order among his looters, and to

launch a fresh attack on the gray stone wall of the citadel.

The soldiers would not obey him [Baha ad Din explains] al

though he did not cease urging them until a late hour of the night.

Then, perceiving that they were harassed by heat and fighting

and smoke to the point of stupor, he mounted his horse and re

turned to his tent which was pitched near the baggage trains. There

the officers who were on duty rejoined him, and I went to get some

sleep in my tent. But it was impossible to sleep I was so troubled

by misgiving.

SALADIN STRIKES 181

At daybreak we heard trumpets sound among the Franks, and

we thought that aid had come for them. The sultan sent for me,

and said:

"Reinforcements must have come for them by sea. But enough

Moslem troops are on the shore to keep any one from debarking.

Here is what must be done. Go and find the Malik el Dahir, 1

and tell him to place himself outside the southern gate. You will

enter the citadel with some men of your choice, and induce the

Franks to pass out. You will take possession of all valuables and

arms you find there."

I went off at once, taking Shams ad Din with me, and I found

the Malik el Dahir on the hill near the sea with the advanced guard.

He slept, in his coat of loose mail and mail hood, ready for combat.

When I woke him, he got up at once half asleep and mounted his

horse, while I accompanied him to the place where he was to await

the sultan s orders. There he made me explain what I planned to do.

With my men I then entered the town of Jaffa, and on reaching

the citadel we called to the Franks to come out. They replied that

they would do so and began making preparations.

Just as they started out Aziz ad Din remarked that they must not

be allowed out until we had removed the Moslem soldiers from the

town, or they would be pillaged. Djordic then tried to drive back

our men by great blows of his baton; but as they were no longer

under the control of their officers or in ranks he found it impossible

to make them go out. He kept on struggling with the mob against

my remonstrance until it was full daylight.

Seeing how the time had passed, I said to him, "Reinforcements

are drawing nearer to the Franks, and the only thing for us to do is

to hasten the evacuation of the citadel. That is what the sultan

insisted upon."

Then he consented to do what I asked. We went to the gate of the

citadel nearest the spot where the Malik el Dahir waited. Here we

managed to pass out forty-nine Franks with their horses and

women, and sent them away. 2 But then those who remained in the

citadel took it into their heads to resist us.

By now the relieving fleet had drawn near and every one could

of Saladin s sons. On hearing that ships were approaching, the sultan

granted terms to the garrison in the citadel.

2 As Baha ad Din had feared, the first crusaders to go out were seized and plun

dered and put to death. Saladin had agreed to grant them their lives and as much

property as they could carry off, on the payment of the usual small ransom for each

individual.

182 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

count the ships, and the garrison prepared to resume fighting we

saw them putting on mail and seizing their shields.

Seeing matters take this turn, I descended from my knoll near

the gate and went to warn Aziz ad Din who was posted below with

some troops. A moment later I was out of the town and with the

malik, who sent me to the sultan to inform him of what was hap

pening. He ordered a trumpeter to blow the call to arms. The

drums rolled the recall, and our soldiers hastened in from all parts

of the country to join in the conflict. They closed in on the town

and the citadel. The Franks of the garrison finding that no aid was

coming from the ships believed death inevitable.

King Richard was in command of the galleys that drifted

beyond the swell of the Jaffa beach. The galley bearing word

of the Moslem attack had reached the harbor of Acre in the

evening, while he was in his tent making the last preparations

for embarking with his followers for Beirut and then for

Europe. The messengers had come before him without cere

mony, crying that Jaffa was taken and a remnant of the

Christians besieged in the citadel, and that all would be lost

unless aid reached them at once,

"As God lives," Richard had answered, "I will go there!"

And go he did, in spite of obstacles for some of the army

was already at Beirut, and the French refused point-blank

to march again under his standard. The Templars and Hos

pitalers agreed to go to Jaffa by land, only to be held up on

the way by a Moslem ambush. Richard boarded his galleys

with the earl of Leicester, and those stalwarts, his constant

companions, Andrew of Chavigny and the Priux knights.

With some hundreds of men-at-arms and volunteers from

among the Genoese and Pisan bowmen, he put to sea, only

to be held back for two days by contrary winds off the Car-

mel headland. They reached the Jaffa beach in the night and

waited to see what story the dawn would tell.

When the mists cleared and the sun blazed above, the dis

tant hills they saw nothing to cheer them. The beach was

filled with Arabs and Turks, who were obviously settled

there. Above the line of the sand, smoke eddied from the low

gray wall of the city, half a mile from them. In the palm

SALADIN STRIKES 183

groves near the wall stood Moslem pavilions. Only Moslem

banners could be made out. No sign of any kind was visible

on the fortress, on its low bluff over the sand.

The galleys moved in closer. Richard, standing with his

knights under the red awning of the stem, scanned the line

of the shore, and turned to his companions.

"Sir knights," he said briefly, "what shall we do go

away, or land?"

To try to force their way ashore in the face of Saladin s

army seemed to them out of the question, and they said

so. They believed that all the people of the castle had been

killed. ^

At this moment the survivors of the citadel were actually

calling to them, but the sound of the voices was drowned by

the pulse of the swell and the taunting cries of the Arabs

"Allah akbar Allah r*Uahu." So Baha ad Din says.

Then a black figure dropped from the wall of the citadel

to the sand of the beach below. It fell but got up again and

ran through the Moslems to the edge of the swell. Plunging

into the water, it swam toward the nearest galley, which

moved in and picked it up. The swimmer proved to be a

priest of the garrison and he was taken at once to the long

red galley over which the king s banner floated.

Panting and dripping, the messenger flung himself on his

knees before the king. "Beau Sire, the people who await you

here are lost if you do not aid them."

"What!" Richard demanded. "Are any living yonder?

Where are they?"

"Some of them live, shut in the towers."

Richard looked at his companions. "Messires damned

be he who hangs back!"

He ordered his vessel to row in, while the half-naked sea

men on the benches looked each at the other askance. The

long oars rose and dipped, the red galley with the dragon-

head prow slipped into the line of the swell and the others

followed after. On the sideboards the English men-at-arms

buckled tight their belts, thrusting their arms through the

slips of the shields, and freed the swords in their sheaths.

1 84 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

The red galley was the first to grate upon the sand. It

lurched and rolled in the swell, while the Moslems yelled

their hatred and the swarthy Italian shipmen crossed them

selves and snatched up bows and axes. Richard gave no more

orders, and tarried not to bring any reason into the madness

of this landfall. He jumped over the side, waist deep in the

water. He still wore his ship slippers with no other armor

than a mail shirt and a steel cap. On his shoulder he gripped

a crossbow and his long sword hung at his side.

Wading through the swell, he began to shoot bolts at the

Moslems, with Peter of Priux and another knight beside him.

When they came out of the water they drew their swords,

lashing about them under the arrows that the shipmen plied

from the prow. Recognizing the king, the Moslems in front

of him gave back hastily, while the English hastened forward

to form a shield ring about him. Other galleys were running

up on the beach, the crews casting beams and benches ashore.

Men caught these up and carried them forward, lugging the

small skiffs and riff-raff of the beach into a barricade of

sorts.

But Richard was not within the barricade. Taking a shield

from a man, he ran across the beach to a postern gate in the

wall and a stair that he remembered led to the Templars

house.

With his knights clattering after him he leaped up the

stair and the Arab looters of the alleys yelled in amazement

at sight of the dripping figure that strode among them.

Richard cleared the alleys and pounded at a gate of the cita

del until the garrison became aware of him.

By then his galleys held the beach, and his men were

streaming up the Templars stair. His banner went up, on

the tower of the citadel. The knights of the garrison took new

heart at his coming; they sallied forth and began to drive

the disorganized Moslems toward the gates of the outer town.

Then [Baha ad Din relates] charging in a mass on our men, they

drove them out of the town. The gate was so clogged by the fleeing

that many lost their lives. A throng of pillagers who followed the

army had lingered in some churches, occupied with deeds that

SALADIN STRIKES 185

should not be mentioned. The Franks forced their way in and killed

them and made them prisoners.

This all happened under my eyes in less than an hour. As I was

mounted, I set off at a gallop to advise the sultan whom I found

with the two envoys 1 before him, and holding in his hand the pen

with which he was about to write the letter of grace.

I, whispered to him what had happened, and, without commenc-

ing~to write, he began to talk to them to distract their attention.

Some seconds later Moslems came up, fleeing before the enemy.

Seeing them, he cried out to his men to seize the envoys, and to

mount their horses.

Richard s quick action had wrought something like a mir

acle. On his heels the men from the galleys had been able to

break into the waterfront of Jaffa before the disciplined por

tions of Saladin s troops could come up to oppose them; the

rout of the Moslems in the streets had thoroughly disor

ganized the army outside, forcing Saladin to draw back in

haste to the nearest hills to take stock of the situation.

Richard and his crossbowmen pursued as best they could

with the three horses they managed to pick up in the town.

The bolts of the crossbows followed the Moslems for two

miles, and that night Richard pitched his tent where Saladin s

pavilion had been.

Word of the arrival of Malik Ric spread over the country

side, and when quiet had fallen around Jaffa in the evening,

some of the old mamluks and chieftains like Dolderim went

back to the Christian lines out of curiosity to see this king

who had dared land in the face of an army. They came in

peace, and were taken to the royal tent, where Richard cried

them a welcome.

They found him still in his mail shirt, seated on his pallet

amid a mass of arms and gear. Around the great tallow can

dles stood the tall figures of his knights. Wine goblets had

been emptied and filled again many times, while the ruddy

warrior king laughed at the happenings of the day.

Nothing could have pleased him more than the appearance

^he patriarch and the commander of the garrison who had come through thfe

fighting to beg for terms before the landing of the galleys.

i86 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

of the dark Moslem lords in armor and ceremonious khalats.

He greeted them, called them by name.

"Why did the sultan leave at my coming?" he demanded.

" By God, I did not come armed for serious fighting. Look, I

still have on no shoes but ship sandals."

Again he exclaimed, "By the great God, I did not think

he could take Jaffa in two months, and here he carried it in

two days ! "

After thinking a moment, he gave them a message for

Saladin.

"Tell him I have no wish to be a Pharaoh over this land.

Will he sacrifice all the Moslems to keep me out? I renounce

the claims I made to Al Adil. Let the sultan grant me but one

church, and I will return him the like."

To this upon the next day Saladin made grave response.

"The king has made himself master of all these cities, yet

he knows well that if he goes away they will fall into our

power. If it seems a simple matter for him to stay the winter

here, far from his own country, is it not more easy for me?

"I have around me my family and my children. Moreover,

I am now an old man, no longer having a taste for the pleas

ures of the world. I have renounced all such. As for my troops,

the men I have round me in the winter are replaced by others

in the summer. In the end, I believe that my actions will be

accounted as true devotion. And I shall not cease to hold to

this line of conduct until God grants the victory to him to

whom He is pleased to grant it."

Behind thesewords might be perceived a hope that Richard

would leave the coast, and a dread that he would stay.

Saladin s will to hold out was steadfast as ever, but he was

laboring with the disorganization among his men. Under no

other circumstances, perhaps, would he have agreed to the

plan to seize Richard that his men were now forming.

In the interval arrived Henry of Champagne with a single

galley and a few knights. He brought word that the rest

were checked by the Moslems holding the shore.

Richard had now at Jaffa some fifty-five knights with

several hundred men-at-arms and two thousand-odd bow

men, Genoese and Pisans among them. But he had no more

SALADIN STRIKES 187

than fifteen horses. With this semblance of an army he lay

outside Jaffa facing the Moslems.

He had landed on Saturday. It was Tuesday night that a

detachment of Turks from Aleppo and one of the Kurdish

clans started forth to penetrate his camp and carry him off.

XXVII

RICHARD S FAREWELL

k ARKNESS covered the earth, blurring the outlines of the

squat fig trees and the shaggy palms against the sky

where the stars were fading. Dogs barked from time

to time in the distance. Along the beach behind the camp the

swell sighed gently. Beside the tents a church tower loomed.

Among the tents men sprawled on cloaks, breathing heav

ily. There were no camp fires, and the young moon had

slipped out of sight long since. Sentries who had paced the

hard ground idly in the earlier hours of the night now leaned

on their spears or sat beneath the screen of the trees

where the water bags dripped, and tried not to snore. A

young Genoese got up from the ground, yawned and spat.

Stepping over the huddled bodies around him, he walked

between the tents, lifting his feet drowsily over the cords

that had been tightened by the dampness of the night.

He walked out into a trampled field in which tufted arti

chokes had been growing not long since. He squatted down,

blinking indifferently at the sky, now turning gray* Some

where horses moved with a shuffling sound, and he heard the

mutter of men s voices. But there were no horses afoot in the

1 88

RICHARD S FAREWELL 189

camp. Down in the murk toward the hills dull gleams ap

peared and vanished, and he watched them. Then he heard a

faint clinking of metal, and a cold chill passed over his skin.

The dim flashing yonder under the lightening sky came

from polished helmets, and men and horses were moving

toward the camp. The Genoese ran back toward the tents,

shouting: "Arms! Arms!"

Sentries called out questions, and the nearest sleepers

roused. The Genoese ran on, stumbling over the ropes, and

tall figures came from the tents to question him. An order was

given and a horn blared. Knights ran up, pulling mail coifs

over their heads and knotting sword girdles about their hips.

Some of them had not stopped to don breeches or hose, and

their legs shone white in the murk.

King Richard appeared among them in full mail, his

Danish ax swinging in his hand. A horse was led up and he

mounted hastily. The quiet earl of Leicester and his compan

ions followed his example without ado there were only

ten horses, and in the darkness a man took what he found.

Even these makeshift chargers, sorry nags some of them

which did not know a lance from a cart pole were better

than no horses.

The sky lightened in the east, with the first yellow of sun

rise. Men said that Moslems were advancing in squadrons,

slowly. Either they had heard the Christians rouse out, or

they did not like to charge until they could see something.

Beyond the church, on the other side of the town, the horns

of the Genoese and Pisans sounded.

Richard had Normans and English with him. Under his

sharp commands they ranged themselves in a half circle

spreading from the church to the shore. The men of the

outer rank went down on their right knees, holding their

shields slanting from the ground in their left hands. Their

right hands held their lances, the butts wedged into the

ground, the iron heads pointing outward. Between every pair

of lances a crossbowman took his place, with another standing

behind him to load an extra piece and pass it forward to him.

Along their rank rode King Richard, outlined against the

red dawn, and they heard his deep voice.

igo THE FLAME OF ISLAM

"Stand fast, valiant men. ... Do not give ground, for the

enemy are round us, and to flee is to die."

His voice went away, and the Moslems charged with a

sudden burst of sound and a trampling of hoofs on the hard

ground. They came direct for the red banner of the lion, and

the crossbows whirred in their faces. The horses crashed into

the spears, and the clatter of swords was heard.

The charge did not break the sturdy spearmen, and the

Moslems wheeled off. Other waves charged, but under the

sting of the iron bolts, they turned and galloped along

the front, plying their bows. Richard had not the patience to

endure this for long. He led out his ten horsemen against

the clans, with spears down. The heavier knights beat a way

through the Kurds, and Richard found himself beyond

them.

Looking around, he saw the earl of Leicester on foot, fight

ing with his sword. Richard galloped over to him, and covered

him until he could mount a riderless horse. The melee grew

thick about them, and some Turks overthrew and disarmed

the knight of Mauleon. They were carrying him off a prisoner,

when the king saw them and charged them, lashing about

him with his great ax until De Mauleon was free and among

his own men.

The Moslems drew off, and the sun flooded the plain with

light. For a while there was a pause while the two sides ranged

themselves anew. And in this quiet, an unarmed Turk rode

up, holding high his right arm and gripping in his left the

reins of two fine horses ready saddled. He was allowed into

the lines and led to the knights, to whom he explained that

the horses were a gift from Al Adil to the English king. The

sultan s brother had seen that Richard was poorly mounted.

"Sire," his knights cried, "do not ride either of them.

There is evil in this and they will bear you off to the Mos

lems."

For answer Richard swung himself into the saddle of one

of the chargers.

"If Satan sent me a good horse this day," he said, "I

would ride him."

And he ordered a purse to be given to the messenger*

RICHARD S FAREWELL 191

By mid-morning the battle was going badly for the Chris

tians. Saladin s mounted bowmen drove at them, first at one

place, then at another. The men-at-arms stood their ground,

but the galley men drifted back to the ships, away from the

missiles. Some of the Genoese ran into the town, and behind

them the Moslem horse penetrated the gaps in the city wall.

When Richard heard of this he rode back, into Jaffa, taking

with him two knights and a couple of archers. He dared not

withdraw more men from the thin line of the Normans and

English. Trotting through the narrow streets among the

fugitives, he came full upon three Turks who had bright

caparisoning on their horses. He dug his spurs into the Arab

charger, and struck down one of the Moslems with his

sword, knocking a second man from the saddle. The third

fled and the archers caught the two horses.

Seeing the king, some seamen trailed after him, and Rich

ard fairly cleared the streets with a growing queue of retain

ers behind him. This done, he seized the moment of quiet to

circle down to the beach, sending his new followers into the

galleys to rout out the malingerers. When the ships were

cleared he upbraided the throng, telling off five men to guard

each vessel. With the rest he went back into the city, muster

ing wounded and unarmed men to pile stones within the

breaches of the crumbling wall. Then he led the fugitives

out to the fighting line.

Here he dared not rest. The Moslems were still attacking.

With his dozen horsemen, Richard sallied out and broke up

a charge. Still, he pressed on, his great sword swinging over

his head. He left his companions and went forward, disap

pearing among the Moslems.

Some Turks closed around him and he beat them off. A

single officer charged him at a gallop, bending low in the

saddle, his round shield raised and his scimitar swinging.

As he came, he mocked those who hung back before the king.

"Make way," he shouted, "O dogs make way for a man."

Richard saw him and wheeled his charger, rising in his stir

rups to strike once with his sword. The long blade split the

light shield, and bit through the man s throat, turning

against the bones of his chest. With the head, the Moslem s

i 9 2 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

shoulder and arm flew off and his body dropped lifeless to the

ground.

Shouting their dismay, the others drew back before the iron

rider who could not be overthrown. They shot arrows at him,

and launched javelins as he passed among them, but one

man among so many is no easy mark.

From the whirling horses and the dust clouds Richard

emerged again into the view of his men, with javelins sticking

in his mail and the leather caparisoning of his horse pierced

with arrows.

No longer did the Moslems attack with spirit. Richard

seemed to them invulnerable, and to go against his sword was

surely death. They could not break the line of the Christians

again, and when Saladin gave the order for another onset, his

riders sat their horses motionless and sullen. Snatching up

his rein, the sultan rode among them, but their eyes were

elsewhere.

From the line of spearmen Richard had appeared anew.

Into the cleared ground between Christian and Moslem he

trotted, lance uplifted, and from left to right he rode slowly

down the Moslem front, and no man dared go out against him.

When Saladin cried to them again to charge, only the malik

his son responded. When the old sultan motioned him back,

some of the amirs laughed, and the brother of Meshtub

shouted, "Make your young officers charge! Call them forth,

who struck us the day of the taking of Jaffa, and stole the

loot from our men!"

Saladin looked about him and gave the order to retire,

riding off with his mamluks to his own tent.

Richard had saved Jaffa. But in the next days, over

wearied, he fell ill with many of his people. In the heat and

stench of the town that was little better than a shambles,

men died swiftly, and the king did not get back his strength.

They carried him up to Acre, where he ordered Count Henry

and the masters of the Temple and Hospital to his couch.

They came with grave faces. At Jerusalem, Saladin had

found new reinforcements, trained mamluks from Egypt.

The malcontents had been sent away, the army whipped

RICHARD S FAREWELL 193

into shape for a new blow against the weakening crusaders.

The French had moved south, but were camped at Caesarea,

determined not to fight under Richard s banner. The whole

line of the coast was open to attack, with no more than a

hundred knights to be relied upon to obey Richard. The king,

wasted by the fever, knew that he could not take the saddle

again for weeks.

"Bid Al Adil from me/ he said, "to make what terms he

can for us. Anything, but the surrender of Ascalon."

He had struck his last blow in the Holy Land. Humphrey

of Toron and the veteran lords of the land went to Saladin s

camp, and there agreed upon the terms of peace with Al

Adil for Saladin, still desiring final victory, knew that his

troops were weary of the war and that no gain could come by

fighting on.

"I fear to make peace," he said to Baha ad Din, "for I

know not what will happen if I die."

The terms were simple each side keeping, in effect, what

it held at the time. The Christians became acknowledged

masters of the coast, from Tyre to Jaffa, including of course

Acre. This meant that they kept also the neighboring villages

in the plain midway to the foothills. Ramlah on the pilgrim

road from Jaffa to Jerusalem was to be held mutually, and

no taxes were to be placed on merchandise going and coming

across the new frontier in this clause, and in the long dis

pute over Ascalon, the hand of the Italian merchants is to

be seen. Christian pilgrims were to be free to journey up to

Jerusalem without paying tribute, under the protection of

the sultan.

Richard had to yield Ascalon at least the fortifications

of the city were to be torn down and the place left open,

without being held by either side for three years.

And a truce was agreed upon for three years from the

coming Easter, which meant more nearly four years.

Al Adil rode down with the chieftains of the crusaders,

to hear the Christians take the oath at Acre. It was Wednes

day, the second of September, in this year 1192, that Count

Henry, Humphrey of Toron, Balian of Ibelin, and the mas

ters of the military orders gathered in the small stone-flagged

I 9 4 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

room beside the sick chamber of the king. Under Al Adil s

eyes a written parchment lay upon the table where candles

stood to give a better light than the dim embrasure. In their

court surcoats the Christian lords who were now to be mas

ters of this strip of coast came forward and signed the parch

ment or made their mark, and swore upon their faith to

keep the new peace.

Then the parchment was carried in to Richard, and a priest

began to read over the written words. The sick king, who

knew of the conditions, lifted his hand impatiently, bidding

the reader cease.

"I give my word and my faith," he said, and turned his

head away from them. He had sworn to them that when the

truce ended he would return to the Holy Land with new

forces, to renew the war.

The next day Saladin swore to the peace before his amirs,

asking only that Bohemund, prince of Antioch, and the count

of Tripoli agree also to the terms which they hastened to do

thereafter.

On that day Moslem officers rode into the streets and mar

ket places of Jerusalem and announced that peace was made

that Jerusalem was safe in the hands of Islam and that

Moslems could go where they willed among the Christians.

Drums beat by the gates and throngs sat in joyful talk.

Venturesome souls wandered down into the Christian camps;

warriors from the East left their outposts and rode among

the weary men-at-arms who had left Europe long months

before.

The men-at-arms were drinking wine, well content to hear

that the war had ceased. New faces appeared on the high

ways, and already the Christian priests and barons were

making ready to journey up to Jerusalem to visit the Sepul-

cher.

Richard would not go. He would not go as a pilgrim to the

Sepulcher that he had sworn to redeem with his sword.

What were his thoughts as he lay on his pallet, harkening

to the stir and bustle of his nobles making ready for the ride

to Jerusalem? Did he remember that his unbridled spirit had

RICHARD S FAREWELL 195

estranged the other leaders of the crusade, until, one after

the other, they left him ? He should have healed the quarrels,

not embittered them. And Jerusalem could he have taken

the Holy City if he had pressed on that last summer?

Under his leadership the crusade had failed. No man could

wield sword or lance so well as he, and surely he had not

spared himself hurt or hazard in this venture. But when he

took command of the armed host he became helpless even

the success at Arsuf had not been his doing. He had tried to

treat with Saladin when he should have advanced with the

army; and when, at long last, he stood at Beth Nable within

a ride of the Holy City, he might have treated to advantage,

instead of withdrawing,

He had failed. And yet long would the Moslems remember

Malik Ric, and never would minstrel or soldier forget how

Richard had waded ashore at Jaffa in the face of an army

or how thereafter almost single-handed he had held thousands

at bay, from the rising to the setting of the sun. Almost he

had won there with his sword the victory that he had for

feited by his feckless leadership. Almost . . .

Heedless and arrogant, lovable and utterly brave, the

Lion Heart lay on his pallet in Acre town, and thought of

this not at all. He played with his hawks, or listened to a

new lai of the minstrel Blondel impatient of Berengaria s

ministrations, eager only for the hour when he could put to

sea and set his face toward a new venture.

Such is the Richard revealed to us by the chronicles of his

crusade. Not the legendary Richard, ever victorious, and

not the Richard drawn by Scott, high-strung, dominant,

yet always hampered by the jealousy and treachery of the

princes his allies.

And still the portrait is not complete, and the riddle of his

actions remains to be explained. When Richard landed upon

the coast of Acre, it is clear that he was assured and confident

even to carelessness. He had so borne himself at Messina

and Cyprus; at Acre he chafed under delay, and he thrust

aside the other commanders deliberately, estranging them

or overruling them until he himself held sole command. He

196 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

sent jesting messages to Saladin, and ordered the massacre

of the Moslem captives who were actually hostages.

Between that massacre, on August twentieth, and his

first conference with Al Adil, on September fifth, his whole

bearing changed. The careless and confident warrior became

the cautious and moody king.

Consider his actions during those two weeks. He is in

unquestioned command at last, yet his march toward Jaffa

becomes slower and slower, owing to the testudo-like forma

tion in which he has placed his men; at Arsuf he forbids

irritably the Hospitalers to make a counter-charge yet when

that charge begins involuntarily, he throws aside all restraint

and gets to the head of it himself. But the next day he declines

to resume the battle. Although he had hoped to march on at

once to Ascalon, he delays at Jaffa, and delays again. He

fortifies Jaffa and indulges in magnificent but useless knight-

errantry while the months pass and he importunes the sultan

almost petulantly for terms. When the army itself twice

begins the march to Jerusalem, he is the first to insist upon a

retreat. He fortifies Ascalon, and garrisons every little hill

tower he can reach,

No general was ever more eager to intrench himself and

more reluctant to attack. His only hope of defeating Saladin

and gaining Jerusalem lay in taking the offensive. And this

he did not attempt. When the French nobles reminded him

that the sole purpose of the crusade was an advance upon

Jerusalem, Richard answered by pointing out the difficulties

in the way. He even insisted on them, in the last, bitter argu

ment. Why? What had changed the debonair Coeur de Lion

into the timid general ?

Not the disheartening tidings from England. Richard had

already twice hazarded the fortunes of his new kingdom, to

aid in the crusade once when he exhausted the resources of

England to outfit his expedition, and again when he remained

in Palestine after Philip sailed back to France and the

urgent appeal to return to England did not reach him until

April, 1192.

Modern historians, both French and English, have ob

served that Richard was unfit to hold high command. In-

RICHARD S FAREWELL 197

capacity alone, however, does not explain his actions. A fool

ish or ignorant commander may sacrifice his men, or throw

away his army, but he does not intrench and safeguard his

men and communications. Richard sacrificed the chance of

victory for minor successes until the last.

There is an explanation of the riddle of Richard s conduct.

In justice to the memory of a gallant man, it should be

brought forward.

Until he landed at Acre, the English king had been ac

customed only to the feudal warfare of France, with its raid

and siege carried on by the ill-disciplined and scanty feudal

levies of the princes. The moment he set out from Acre to

march to Jaffa at the head of a great army, Richard was con

fronted by the problems of the grande guerre the war of

armies maneuvering over open and strange country, with the

fate of the crusade hanging upon each battle. It seems to the

present writer that the English king realized then his unfitness

to command in such a war. He could not relinquish the com

mand. He had sought it deliberately at Acre; his reputation

and his exalted rank prevented him from yielding it to an

inferior; and there remained no man of princely rank to whom

he could have surrendered it even Conrad, the ablest com

mander of the allies, having withdrawn in anger to Tyre.

He was helpless to accomplish anything, but he could not

resign his leadership. Nor could he alter the intent of the

mass of the crusaders, who had their hearts set on Jerusalem,

blindly, at all hazards.

So Richard became afraid, not of personal peril, but of

disgrace and disaster. Unable to turn back, he must go on,

knowing that his unfitness to command made every move

ment hazardous. The antipathy of Conrad, the growing in

subordination of the French who realized his failing, and the

bad news from England, all made his position more intoler

able. And the blind devotion of the common soldiers who

looked upon him as a matchless leader only added to his

mental torment.

The proof of this may lie in his own words, in answer to

the French when the army was nearest Jerusalem, as given

by the chronicler De Vinsouf : "You will not see me as leader,

198 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

when it would be folly to press on, and disgrace to me.

If it please you to proceed to Jerusalem, I will accompany

you as comrade, but not as commander. I will follow, but I

will not lead you/

We will never know Richard s thoughts in this crisis. His

brief letters home only mentioned events such as Arsuf, and

he confided, apparently, in no one. Perhaps he never under

stood that he had ruined the chances of the crusade by his

refusal to content himself with the leadership of the English

contingent, and to cooperate with Philip and Conrad. But it

is significant that, at the end, he would not visit Saladin and

set foot within Jerusalem the two things that he had most

longed for after his failure.

What he decided to do, in his dilemma, is pitifully clear.

He determined to avoid battle with Saladin and to safeguard

the army at all costs, while he risked his own life in reckless

efforts to gain some advantage with a handful of men. Al

ways on such forays, he was in high spirits, while in the camp

he became moody and uncertain. He shunned his headquarters

deliberately, and kept himself as much as possible beyond

the protection of his own lines. It may have been that, realiz

ing his failure, he sought death under arms.

Only once did the need of the army fit in with his own

knight-errantry. That was when Saladin came down on

Jaffa. Richard s response was instant, and his almost childish

enthusiasm afterward was unmistakable.

The riddle of Richard puzzled Al Adil and Baha ad Din

at times, but Saladin understood the warrior-king. It was

with a two- fold meaning that the sultan said, "If I should be

fated to lose the Holy Land, I would rather lose it to Malik

Ric than to any other." He admired Richard s courage, while

he perceived his inability to command.

But Saladin was not to relinquish the Holy Land. All the

armed power of Christendom, with a sacrifice of nearly two

hundred thousand men, had won back only a fragment of

his conquests and not one of the holy places. Although he

did not realize it, the truce that Saladin had dreaded was to

be a safeguard for Islam, since his own days were numbered.

XXVIII

AMBROSE VISITS THE SEPULCHER

r LMOST before the treaty had been signed the first of

the pilgrims were on their way into the hills, under

the leadership of the hero Andrew of Chavigny.

They put aside their weapons and armor, and went in a body

hundreds strong an extraordinary risk, for the Moslems

who had fought against them a few days before were still

camped in the hills, and they had not yet received a safe-

conduct from Saladin,

Ambrose relates what befell them:

As they passed the plain of Ramlah in their journey, the barons

talked together and decided that they would send to tell Saladin

that they were coming to Jerusalem, with letters from the king of

England, to visit the Sepulcher.

Those who carried this message were wise and valiant men, but

all their prowess was rendered futile by their negligence. They rode

on horses across the plain of Ramlah, as far as the Tower of the

Knights, where they halted to search for El Adil. The truth is, they

went to asleep for so long that, long after they went on again they

saw in front of them Sir Andrew and the pilgrims marching in good

199

200 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

order into the hills. When these beheld the messengers coming

after them, they stopped bewildered. "Ah, Seigneur God," cried

the high men, "we are lost if the Saracens see us. Here are the

ones who should have carried the message of our coming. If we go

among them without warning them, they will attack us."

The messengers hastened on again, toward Jerusalem. They

found more than two thousand Turks camped outside the city.

After a long search they found El Adil and explained that our peo

ple were coming. El Adil reproached them bitterly, saying that it

was an insane undertaking, and that they valued their lives little

to march without a safe-conduct. Night fell as they spoke together,

and the main body of Christians came up, without arms or plans.

When the Saracens saw them, they confronted them with such

menace that even the boldest would have liked well to be back

at Acre then. They passed that night behind a wall.

The next day the Saracens went before Saladin, and begged that

he would let them avenge themselves on the pilgrims. But Saladin

at once summoned his officers and told them that the Christians

had his safe-conduct to go to the Sepulcher and make their pil

grimage.

Ambrose himself went with the second throng, that met

the first pilgrims coming out of the Holy City at dawn. By

then Saladin s guards were posted along the road> and the

crusaders felt safe.

We passed through the hills, and came to the joyous height, from

which Jerusalem can be seen. Then our hearts were glad. We knelt

as all those do and ought to do who come hither. We saw what

we could above all the tomb in which was placed the body of the

Lord after death. Some of us put offerings there, but the Saracens

snatched them away. After that we only gave silver to the captives,

men of Europe and the Syrian coast, who were in bondage there.

We gave them our offerings and they said, "God requite you!"

We went to the right, upon the mount of Calvary, there where

the Cross was planted, there where the rock had cracked asunder.

We came to this place, and we kissed it. From there we went to

the church of Mount Sion, all ruined. Then we hastened to see the

holy table where the Lord once seated Himself and ate, and we

kissed it also, but we barely stayed there for the Saracens were

seizing the pilgrims from our train and hiding them in caverns,

three or four at a time. . . .

AMBROSE VISITS THE SEPULCHER aoi

Then we went, much disturbed, to the grotto wherein was the

Lord when he was taken. Filled with pity and yearning, we kissed

this place and we shed hot tears for there were the stables and

the horses of these servants of the devil who defiled the holy

places and threatened the pilgrims. We left Jerusalem then, and

returned to Acre.

Saladin remained as generous in his hour of victory as he

had been before the stress of the war. When Richard wrote

to him requesting that the French who had not shared in

the drawing up of the treaty be forbidden to visit Jerusalem,

the sultan replied that he could not withhold his permission

from some of the crusaders after giving it to all. He bade the

worthy bishop of Salisbury who led the third contingent of

pilgrims ask a boon of him, and the bishop, after a night of

thought, requested that two Latin priests be allowed to

remain at the Sepulcher to perform Mass, morning and eve

ning.

When Richard announced that at the end of the truce he

would return and wrest the land from the Moslems, the sul

tan responded gravely that if he must lose the Holy Land

he would rather lose it to Richard than to any other man.

The English king had been convalescing at Haifa while

the survivors of the crusade took ship for the long voyage

through the autumn storms. Here he was joined by his queen

Berengaria who nursed him in his pavilion within the shadow

ot Carmel by the gardens of Elijah s tomb. She was to have

only this one month of quiet with the Lion Heart.

She had left her home to follow him upon the crusade, and

for a moment at the wedding in Cyprus she had come before

the eyes of the world. Thereafter, she is no more than a

name heard of from place to place in the footsteps of her

stormy warrior. Richard would not take her with him, and

she sailed from Acre to the shelter of the papal court in

Rome, where she lingered on learning that Richard had been

made captive.

For a while then she rested at the Plantagenet court, with

Queen Eleanor at Poitiers, but Richard did not seek her

there. A story is told that he sent for her on his death bed,

202 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

but it is only a story, and the name of Berengaria was heard

no more after his end.

She did not go back to her father s court of Navarre, nor

would the Plantagenets give her aid or countenance. It is

known now that she lived in obscurity for years in a town

within the hills of Anjou, her only visitor a passing cardinal.

Richard took ship early in October on a single galley with

a small escort. His homefaring was no simple matter, for by

now his brother John was settled in England, his own partisans

scattered, and nearly every reigning prince of Europe his

enemy. When he boarded the galley, he went to his cabin at

once, and the sail was hoisted. Not until the next dawn, when

the Syrian coast lay beyond sight, did he appear on deck.

How, untroubled by the dangers ahead of him, he turned

into the Adriatic, to try to pass through the German lands

in disguise, and how he was recognized by his royal bearing,

sought by the man he had offended at the siege of Acre

Leopold of Austria and held for ransom by the emperor, is

a tale that has been told often.

Saladin waited on the coast until it was known beyond

doubt that the English king had sailed. Then, in the Haram

of Jerusalem, he dismissed his officers and turned his thoughts

to the needs of peace. For three weeks he inspected the new

frontier with the conquered fortresses. He would have liked

to go back to Cairo, that he had not seen for ten years, but

he was troubled by lassitude and by the fasting which he

now undertook to make up for the Ramadan fasts that he

had been obliged to omit during the campaigning. When the

rains began, he went to the court at Damascus, hunting a

little and listening to the talk of learned men. Thither he

summoned his faithful kadi toward the end of February.

Baha ad Din found that the sultan had secluded himself

and would see no visitors, although many waited in the ante

rooms of the palace. When the kadi, however, was announced,

Saladin ordered him admitted and greeted him with genuine

pleasure, sitting in the garden beneath the bare poplars. A

tray of fruit and sweetmeats was brought out to them, and

Saladin only tasted the food, while he spoke of his greatest

TOMB OF SALADIN

In the garden beside the great mosque of Damascus.

-Q

o **

fcJO

S-l

AMBROSE VISITS THE SEPULCHER 203

wish to make the pilgrimage to Mecca in the coming spring.

The autumn pilgrims from the south, he said, were already

returning upon the Hadj road, drawing near to Damascus,

The next day [Baha ad Din relates] he sent for me, and I found

him seated on a bench in the garden, having around him the young

est of his children. He demanded if any people were waiting to see

him, and, hearing that envoys of the Franks were there as well as

the amirs and higher officers of the state, he gave orders to admit

the ambassadors to him.

One of his young children, the amir Abou Bakr of whom he was

very fond and with whom he was accustomed to make sport

began to weep at seeing these men who had shaven cheeks and

strange garments. Then the sultan excused himself to them, and

dismissed them without hearing what they had to say. In these

last days he had given up his receptions, explaining that it troubled

him to move about. Indeed he suffered from weariness and another

thing.

Many fasts had remained for him to undergo, since he had not

observed them during his frequent illnesses and the vicissitudes of

war. At Jerusalem he had commenced to make up the omitted

fasts, and this injured his health. His physician blamed him much

for doing as he did. The sultan would not listen, saying, "No one

may know what will come to pass." So he had continued to fast

until he had made up all that was lacking.

He asked if I had news of the [pilgrim] caravan.

"I met some of the travelers on the way hither," I answered. "If

it had not been for the mud, they would have arrived to-day. But

to-morrow they will enter the city."

He then said that he would go to meet them, and gave order to

mend the road and drain away the water for the season was still

rainy. After that I withdrew, noticing that he lacked his usual

vivacity.

Friday morning he went out, mounted. Leaving the servants, I

hastened to join him, and just at that moment he met the caravan.

In it were Sabah ad Din and Karadja 1 Yarouki whom he greeted

warmly, as was his habit with the older men.

It was a magnificent sight this day, the inhabitants of the city

coming out in a mass to meet the caravan and see the sultan. I

noticed for the first time that the sultan had not his quilted khalaf,

without which he never went forth on a horse. When I asked about

it, he had the aspect of waking from a dream, and demanded the

204 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

garment, but no one could find the master of the wardrobe. It

seemed strange that the sultan should be asking in vain for the

khalat that he was never without.

I asked if there was no way of returning to the city without pass

ing through the multitudes. He said yes, and took a by-path that

led through the gardens. We followed after him, but I felt oppressed

fearing for his health.

Coming to the citadel, he entered, crossing the drawbridge as

usual. It was the last time that he went out mounted. That evening

the sultan was troubled by extreme lassitude, and a little before

midnight he had an excess of fever.

Twelve days later, on the third of March, 1193, died the

Malik en Nasr Salah ad Din*

Although Baha ad Din and the sultan s companions had

expected it, they left the palace that day in profound grief.

Damascus mourned, the shutters drawn over the shops, and

the bazaars deserted. Beside the body of the man who had

led them for twenty years with unfaltering patience, the old

imams read from the leaves of the Koran.

When Saladin s son took the sultan s place at the head of

the carpet for the noon meal, the companions of the dead

sultan felt the stab of grief anew. When they called upon

the treasury for money to pay the expenses of the simple

funeral, they found almost nothing in the palace.

He who had possessed so much [Baha ad Din explains] and such

great riches, he did not leave in dying more than forty-seven dir-

hems and a single piece of Syrian gold. He left neither goods, nor

house, nor furnishing, nor village cultivated land, or any other

kind of property.

Saladin had sacrificed years of his life to keep the field

against the crusaders, and his spirit had been as simple and

fervent as that of any Christian crusader. He had kept in

violate his ideal of personal honor more exacting than the

Christian code of chivalry. He was a Kurd, ruling over Turks

and Arabs for the most part; the glorious first days of victory

were followed by the hard years of conflict with the crusaders

from overseas, and the Moslems had grown weary of the

AMBROSE VISITS THE SEPULCHER 205

long war. 1 Saladin s last months even when embassies

came from Constantinople and the Caucasus to felicitate him

were disturbed by revolt in the east. It was the irony of his

life that, at heart a scholar and a lover of peace, he had to

be at war without respite.

They buried his body in the garden tomb, beside the north

wall of the great mosque in Damascus, where the school

children patter by on their way to the teachers, and the

call to prayer echoes in the giant courtyard.

Above that courtyard, on the lintel of the sealed door, still

stood the inscription of forgotten years: "Thy kingdom,

Christ, is everlasting"

Neither Saladin s ability nor his zeal for the holy war de

scended to his three sons. They inherited variously Cairo,

Damascus, and Aleppo and soon became engaged in differ

ences with each other. As Saladin foresaw , his army was

never assembled again and when the thre eyears truce drew

near its end the prince of Damascus was well content to re

new it, while the crusaders on the edge of the Syrian coast

were too weak to make any new effort toward Jerusalem.

The Ayoubites as Saladin s successors came to be called

allowed trade to take its natural course with the coast ports,

and occupied themselves with fortifying their three citadels-

Cairo, Damascus, and Aleppo. They were tolerant and cul

tured men, little inclined toward war, and it became profita

ble to them to allow the Italian ships to put in to the ports

without let or hindrance.

Another man, however, had ambitions. Al Adil, a powerful

influence in Saladin s day, physically strong and energetic

he could finish off a whole lamb at a sitting, and was at fifty-

three still a great lover of women began to gather into his

capable hands the reins that death had taken from his

brother.

a The ideal of Moslems then and for long afterward was that of a conquering

despot. Such a man Saladin was not by nature. To-day, as a rule, the Moslems of

Syria remember his name only, his buildings, and his uprightness of character.

The mufti effendi of Jerusalem in a conversation with the author, said, "Tamerlane

fut la Urreur du monde y Salah ad Lin un gentilhomme." And an Arab cavalry

officer, on hearing his name mentioned, repeated, "Salah ad Din was a gentleman."

206 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

With large possessions of his own in the east, he waited

until actual conflict broke out between the new prince of

Cairo and the new sultan of Damascus. Whereupon he threw

his influence upon the side of Al Aziz, the stronger, in Cairo,

and became himself governor of Damascus. It was only

natural, then, that he should be appointed atabeg or war lord

of the two kingdoms when Al Aziz died, leaving an incapable

son on the throne of Egypt. Arabs, Turks, and Kurds alike

remembered the old patriarchal rule of the clans, by which

the eldest able-bodied kinsman became chief of the clan.

Thousands of Saladin s mamluks had kept together even

while serving in the various armies. They had eaten of the

salt of the dead sultan, and they favored Al Adil more than

any grandson.

"Is it not disgraceful," said the Malik Al Adil, "for me, an

old man, to be the atabeg of a child ? I should have succeeded

my brother the Malik an Nasr Salah ad Din. I gave up this

hope out of respect for my brother s memory/*

The words of the shrewd Kurd struck a responsive chord

in the veterans of the army, and Al Adil was acclaimed sultan

of Egypt* He had, of course, his old provinces to the east of

the Jordan, and the Damascus country. Swiftly he extended

his authority over much of Arabia and Jerusalem and south

ern Syria so that he held together the nucleus of Saladin s

small empire in the year 1198. The northern regions had

broken up among minor chieftains.

When the crusaders advanced again, they found a shrewd

and extremely capable sultan in command of the Moslem

forces. Two years before there had been discord among the

Moslems, but now Al Adil was master in his dominion.

XXIX

THE DREAM OF THE HOHENSTAUFEN.

AN INTERLUDE

3r is necessary now to look behind the scenes. The men

who have played their parts upon the battlefield are

engaged elsewhere, even Al Adil. They have returned,

it might be said, to their homes; they have put aside the

crusader s cross and have donned mufti, but they have not

laid aside their swords. Again, they play the natural roles

of life, and what they are doing is most important.

In these years from 1195 to 1199 the curtain is drawn upon

the theater of the war while there is truce in the Holy Land.

Yet in these years vital changes took place in the aspect of

the crusades. Old roles were cast aside some of them torn

up and new parts studied. Fresh ideas replaced old, and

the stage itself was enlarged. We must look at Europe as a

whole where the actors are at home.

The heavy losses of the years 1189 to 1192 did not dis

hearten the men of the cross. After all, the survivors had

gained some victories, and many had visited the Sepulcher.

They had stern stuff in them, and it seemed to them that

another effort would redeem the holy places. Besides, a new

generation was growing up, ready to take arms.

207

208 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Jerusalem, in their eyes, was the road of salvation. Defeat,

the priests told them, had been caused by their own sins. A

greater sacrifice, a more fervent attempt, rightly led, and the

Seigneur God would bless them by the restoration of His

city. The visible, actual Jerusalem was still the invisible

Eternal City through which they entered upon salvation.

No doubt about that. It was as certain as the water of bap

tism, or the wine of the sacrament.

Those who failed to redeem Jerusalem lay under the anger

of the Lord. The capture of Jerusalem would be a sign of the

forgiveness of the Lord, The masses of Christendom yearned

for this sign of victory. Preachers exhorted them, as once

Peter the Hermit had done, and they took the cross anew by

hundreds. Barons and valiant men, peasants and women

prayed in the new cathedrals for the restoration of Jerusalem.

The ribald and masterless serfs no longer appeared in the

groups of crusaders; there was no place for them.

In the hundred years since the first crusade, things had

changed. Undisciplined masses no longer hastened upon the

via Dei. The resistless torrent of the first days had become a

strongly flowing river guided into fresh channels. The first

crusaders had spoken of their comrades as the soldiers of

Christ. The popes, however, who had led the preparation for

the crusades, called them soldiers of the Church^

But by now unmistakably during the campaign of 1189-

1192 the kings and princes of Christendom had taken the

command. The popes still urged the war, but the monarchs

led it. The obligation of the crusade now lay^ upon the

crowned heads of the princes, and sons inherited it from the

fathers.

For one thing, the feudal isolation of a century before was

breaking up. The nests of the barons had been shaken down,

and nations were taking shape. England was still a patch

work of lands on both sides the Channel, under the restless

Normans King Richard, redeemed at last from captivity

by the last of the gold and silver, melted some of it ^ from

the vessels on the altars, was piecing together his dominion

warring with Philip-Augustus, who was making firm the

foundations of France.

THE DREAM OF THE HOHENSTAUFEN *o$

The pope urged both of them to embark again upon the

crusade, and both refused point-blank. And without the

leadership of powerful kings, no crusade could be undertaken.

The last hundred years had convinced the wiser heads

among the Christians that Jerusalem could not be plucked

out of the grasp of the Moslems by zeal alone. The Moslems

themselves must first be defeated. The stronghold of the

Moslems was Cairo the only stronghold accessible from the

sea. The sultan, Al Adil, reigned there. Even while Richard

was on the Syrian coast, the leaders had debated an advance

on Cairo. To capture Cairo, or a similar point, would be a

stepping stone upon the way to Jerusalem.

Also, after the loss of some three hundred thousand lives

in attempting it the Christians understood that the overland

road through Asia Minor was closed. The mightiest of them,

Frederick Barbarossa, had left his bones there in final proof.

Meanwhile the road over the sea had become more easy.

Ships had grown larger; the great pilgrim traffic had accus

tomed navigators to take whole fleets to and from the Holy

Land. And the stripling cities of Genoa, Pisa, and Venice

had developed into young and sturdy sea powers.

On the whole, these thriving republics had borne their

share of the labor of the crusades, but they had drawn profit

from it as well being Italian. Genoa and Pisa, barred in the

beginning from the East by the Byzantines and Moslem

pirates, had beaten a path for their ships in the track of the

first crusaders. Their fondacas sprinkled the Syrian coast,

and tapped the rich Asia trade.

They supplied the settlements of crusaders with the wool

and furs and wines of the homelands, while they carried back

the spiced fruits and silk and grain of the Syrian coast. But

the Asia trade was the mine from which they drew un

dreamed-of riches.

The growth of this trade was felt in all the eastern Medi

terranean. The Norman ports in Sicily and southern Italy

Palermo and Brindisi became important. The fine harbor

of Candia in Crete became a halfway point. But the real gate

of gold was Alexandria, the port of Egypt, in Moslem hands.

By enduring certain humiliations and paying well for the

aio THE FLAME OF ISLAM

privilege, the Italian seamen gained entrance to Alexandria.

And Alexandria was a port of Cairo.

Every one of these factors played a part in the events that

followed. It is well to see them clear the leadership of the

kings, instead of the Church; the closed road over the land,

the open road over the sea; the plan to break the military

power of the Moslems before advancing on Jerusalem; the

growing fleets of the Italian cities, and the necessity of using

them to transport the crusaders who had no fleets of their

own.

In this period of suspense, most of the princes of Europe

became crusaders, upon oath to aid in the holy war. The cry

"Aid for the Sepulcher" was heard from the fields of England

to the forests of Hungary. The only question was, who would

lead the new army, and where would it strike?

The aged pope of the day could do little but exhort. A

mightier figure came forward to take command, the son of

Barbarossa, Henry, by the grace of God king of the Romans,

and Augustus. The man who hoped, not without reason, to

draw upon his shoulders the mantle of the Caesars,

Henry VI, the emperor, was a true son of Barbarossa, and

a Hohenstaufen. Already head of the Holy Roman Empire,

he ruled from the Baltic to the Tiber. The heart of his empire

was the German Reich, the power in his hand, a multitude

of valiant German swords. He had married Constance,

heiress of all the Norman lands in southern Italy.

Out of that marriage came generations of strife. Yet, for

the present, it raised the emperor high indeed. It brought

him to the shores of the Mediterranean. At Palermo, in 1 194,

he was crowned king of Sicily. At the church of Bari the next

year he took the cross from the hand of the bishop of Sutri,

On this sun-warmed shore, the red Hohenstaufen dreamed,

with his eyes to the east.

Perhaps, in other years, Barbarossa had inspired this

dream. Certain it is that Henry turned his back upon the

north. Had not the wayward Richard of England done hom

age to him, while in captivity? Could not he crush the stub

born Philip-Augustus, if it became necessary to do so ? They

THE DREAM OF THE HOHENSTAUFEN an

were fighting with each other, for the nonce, and no one

dared disturb the mighty Reich that stretched from the

castles of Lorraine to the pagan hamlets of Prussia.

In the mountain citadels of Sicily he dreamed, looking

toward the east. To him journeyed Amalric of Lusignan,

now, by the death of his brother Guy, king of Cyprus. He

did homage to the emperor for the island; and a letter came

from Leon, king of Armenia, announcing himself the vassal

of the Hohenstaufen. So these two Christian states upon the

edge of the Holy Land were under Henry s rule henceforth.

There was nothing petty in the emperor s dream. He meant

to be, in fact, the Caesar of a new Rome.

He would extend his rule north from the hills of Sorrento

to the great Lombard plain, joining Sicily to the German

Reich. With all of Italy in his grasp, he could put to sea with

his Germans and Normans. With great fleets at his service,

he could retrace the frontiers of the Caesars. North Africa

would fall, if he captured Cairo. That could be done.

It could be done in the crusade. As to the Holy Land,

Henry had debated with his jurisconsults and they had

agreed startled, we may suppose with their lord. Until

then the conquests of the crusaders, held by various little

princes, had been looked upon as the redeemed property

of the Church. The Hohenstaufen conceived it otherwise.

As Caesar and Augustus in the West, by divine will, was he

not also the rightful lord of the East?

Whatever came into his hands in the East would be part

of his empire, himself the sole lord. The authority of Caesar

was not to be delegated to others.

There was, of course, an obstacle. In the East the ghost of

the dead Caesars confronted him Isaac the Angel lord of

Constantinople, wearer of the purple buskins, who held the

title of emperor of the Romans.

But Isaac was no more than a shadow, a Byzantine prince

who had seen his fleets dwindle and his frontiers recede to

the sea. For the present the Hohenstaufen contented himself

with marrying his brother, Philip of Swabia, to^the daughter

of Isaac the Angel, thereby establishing a claim for future

use. Not that he lacked sufficient excuse to attack Byzantium

212 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the Normans of Sicily, now his vassals, had determined to

do so, and his father Barbarossa had suffered injuries while

passing on crusade through the lands of the Byzantines.

So Henry dreamed of extending his power over the remnant

of the former Eastern Empire, himself a very Caesar, master

of Rome and the world. He would tread the road toward the

rising sun

"Thy dawn, O Master of the World, thy dawn !"

It was, indeed, an imperial ambition. And every particle

of it was fated to breed strife thereafter.

The first step the crusade. Henry dispatched a disci

plined contingent under Conrad, his chancellor, to Acre by

ship, while his archbishop anointed Amalric in the cathedral

of Cyprus, and Leon in Tarsus. Fired by enthusiasm and by

the memory of the dead Barbarossa believing that the old

hero would return to life to lead them to the Holy Land

multitudes of men took the cross to follow the Hohenstaufen

and Henry prepared his fleets at Bari and Sicily.

Conrad s forces with the knights of Syria occupied Sidon

and captured Beirut although Al Adil roused to meet them,

and took Jaffa on his own account. It was evidence of the

new plan of invasion that the crusaders were content to lose

the gateway of Jerusalem to gain the best harbor on the

Syrian coast.

The Germans advanced into the hills and sat down to

besiege the small castle of Tibnin. Here they delayed for two

months until Al Adil brought up a relieving army.

And then they heard that, months before, Henry had died

in Italy.

The death of the emperor broke up the crusade, and the

Germans sailed back. They left, however, a new military

order behind them, a German branch of the Hospital of St.

John: "Brothers of the German House." To distinguish

them from the Hospitalers, whose mantles were black with a

white cross, these wore white mantles with a black cross,

and they started to build a castle in the hills near Acre.

In these years, from 1197 to 1199, occurred events that

altered the whole scene of the crusades. It was as if an in-

THE DREAM OF THE HOHENSTAUFEN 213

visible hand passed over the stage, removing the old actors

and their cues, and bringing forward the new, to set the stage

for the coming century.

Richard of England, after making peace with Philip, be

sieged the castle of a vassal in a fit of anger over some gold,

and was struck down by a crossbow bolt granting life and

freedom to the man who shot the bolt before he died.

Henry VI, the mightiest of the emperors, died just before

Innocent III, the mightiest of the popes, entered upon his

pontificate.

Henry, once count of Champagne and now king of Jerusa

lem, fell from a window, dying of his injuries. Amalric of

Lusignan, now king of Cyprus, married his widow, Queen

Isabel thrice a widow at the age of twenty-six thus be

coming king of Jerusalem.

The civil war among the Moslems ceased when Al Adil

became sultan and transferred his capital to Cairo*

And in Constantinople Isaac the Angel was overthrown

by a kinsman, and cast in prison after being blinded.

So ended the Twelfth Century. And Baha ad Din, finish

ing his long history of his beloved master, wrote these words

that hold a prophecy in them: "So ended these years and

these men who lived therein; they have passed away like

dreams."

PART III

SNOW lay upon the hamlets y mantling the thatched

roofsy sliding from the whispering forest* Snow

covered the arms of the cross by the highroad- The

bells rang clear in the cold air.

Men were marching through the hamlets^ over the

frozen rivers. They were looking toward the east and

singing an old song. Loud and clear the song: Ave

Maria Stella maris!

They were marching away on the old road. Under

the arms of the forest they passed., treading over the

snow> with staff and pack and sword. They were

following the stars to the east.

But the bells had ceased and the stars grew dim y

and new voices summoned them. Through mist and

mere the voices called y and they followed with staff

and pack and sword.

The p&ad was lost in unknown lands > and the song

of the road grew faint.

Ave Maria . . .

XXX

INNOCENT SPEAKS

WINTER mist covered the gray Tiber and drifted through

the thick ilex trees by the brown basilica of St. Peter.

But the sun beat down upon the mist, and the throngs

of men and women could see clearly all that took place in

front of the bronze doors. They had stood there for a long

time, very patiently.

All their eyes were fastened on a slight figure seated under

the portico, sheltered from both the mist and the sun. It

was a small man, the face sharp and handsome, the gray eyes

set close together. Ordinarily this man moved quickly and

spoke, as they knew well, most eloquently. A few moments

ago he had been Cardinal Lothaire, of the familiar Roman

house of Conti. No more than thirty-seven years of age, and

a distinguished Christian gentleman, thoroughly versed in

matters of law and mysteries of the councils.

Now the episcopal miter had been taken from his head,

and the princely tiara put on him.

"Take the tiara," a voice from the red circle of cardinals

announced, " and know that thou art the father of princes

and kings, the ruler of the world, the vicar on earth of our

217

ai8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Savior Jesus Christ, whose honor and glory shall endure

through all eternity."

Other voices murmured a response. The crowd jostled and

peered, while the men-at-arms thrust them back, and horses

were led up. One of them was covered with scarlet trappings.

And when the figure rose from the chair and mounted this

horse, the crowd all saw that, without doubt, Cardinal

Lothaire had become the pope, Innocent III.

A priest bearing a cross took his place before the horse. The

white-and-gold standard of good St. Peter was lifted, while

twelve guards ranged themselves on either side the new pope.

Images of cherubim hung from their uplifted lances. Their

horses sidled and snuffled, pawing the earth under the folds

of the heavy embroidered caparisoning.

Behind the pope the nobles of Rome bearing their shields

of arms jostled and whispered as they took their places,

pushing ahead of rivals who were their feudal enemies on

ordinary days. Knights in armor brought up the rear of the

glittering cortege, and the watching crowd murmured its

delight at all this splendor. Suddenly the bells of St. Peter s

clanged and echoed.

The horses moved forward at a foot pace, while the high

voices of young boys soared against the clanging of the bells.

The choir marched in the procession. But the eyes of the

crowd fastened greedily upon a horseman in black velvet, a

gold chain about his neck. He was the chamberlain of the

new pope, and from time to time he would put his hand into

a stout wallet that hung from his saddle horn. Then he

would raise his hand and scatter coins among the straining

figures of the multitude. Ragged men struggled over the

silver coins, and the men-at-arms thrust them back.

When the procession passed the face of a low building of

dull wood the crowd roared with excitement and rage. An

old man in a purple robe came out of the strange building,

escorted by soldiers. His trembling hands held above his

square cap a roll of parchment covered with a veil.

The crowd knew that this was the rabbi of the synagogue,

bearing on his head the veiled roll of the Pentateuch. Before

the scarlet horse the old Jew bent his head. He was asking, as

INNOCENT SPEAKS 219

the rabbis had always asked, the mercy and protection of the

new pope; but in the shouting of the throng his voice was lost.

The young Father of the Church looked into the faded eyes

of the Hebrew, and uttered a few words of forgiveness. When

he opened his lips the crowd fell silent, and when he had done

voices shouted approval. The chamberlain tossed out coins

again, and men jostled the rabbi in the purple robe to get at

them. Leaning on their spears, the soldiers paid no more heed

to him.

Burning through the mist, the sun gleamed upon the

princely cavalcade as it reached the muddy bank of the river

and paced slowly across the marble bridge leading to the

island and the other shore.

An hour later Innocent III sat in state in his Lateran

palace. He wore now a red girdle. From the girdle hung two

heavy purple purses, smelling of musk. In the purses were

gold pieces and the twelve ancient seals of precious stones.

One after the other, the members of his new court and

council approached the pope sitting apart in his porphyry

chair. They knelt before him to kiss the ring upon his white

hand. And the face of Innocent was wan and tired before the

last had withdrawn at the hour of candle lighting, and he

could pray alone in the chapel of the popes, kneeling on the

mosaic floor.

Gone were the years of controversy and the feuds of Rome.

Gone were the ten years of struggling with the questions of

the papal council. Innocent was now solitary and apart.

Beyond the darkening embrasures of the Lateran, the

fortified towers of the nobles stood against the evening sky.

Brown and bare walls, on every height, above the hovels of the

commoners. Even the impassive Colosseum was a fortress.

Under the chapel and the walls of the gray Lateran soldiers

paced, and spear tips shone in the dusk. Alone, Innocent

meditated, in his hand the invisible key that could unlock all

gates. Now at last, at his command, was the dread authority

of the Church itself.

In the mind of the pope a new map was taking shape.

When he sat with his councilors of state the only maps they

220 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

looked at were queer round drawings upon parchment, with

a cross marked where Jerusalem lay, in the center of the

circle. The rest of the world was no more than scattered

names arranged around the Great Sea, with mountains

drawn between the names, and towers leaning this way and

that to represent cities. Round the circle angels and demons

clustered, intertwined with Leviathans out of the sea, and

pagan Turks.

But in his mind Innocent held a map of the world much

more accurate than this.

He knew the different peoples, and the roads that the mer

chants followed, and the lines of far-off frontiers. He knew

what fleets were built, and where and why and the numbers

of the pilgrims who sailed in them. All the structure of the

Church was clear to him, from the lands of the greatest bish

opric to the gardens of a solitary monastery. Everywhere

he had eyes that served him his legates at the courts of

refractory kings, and his messengers in the palaces of the

pagans.

Letters brought daily to the Lateran all conceivable tid

ings. Innocent knew as swiftly as horses could bring the re

port the fact that Philip of France had divorced his wife

Ingeborg, or that a new chapel had been built in Iceland.

He knew what the king of the savage Hungarians said at

table, off there in the east, and what merchandise the Vene

tians sold in Alexandria.

And in turn, letters went from his hand to all the corners

of the earth. Letters that told a bishop when to wear his

pallium, or advised the barons of unruly England to pay

scutage to his dear son John, their illustrious king. He con

demned the practice of usury in France in the same day that

he censored the extortion from the Jews of Spires,

In this map that lay within his mind, Innocent was shaping

an invisible empire. He meant to bring the lands of the earth

under papal authority. In other days St. Augustine had

written of the kingdom of God, and Hildebrand had dreamed

of the spiritual dominion that would rule even emperors and

kings*

INNOCENT SPEAKS 221

To a certain Acerbius, a prior in Tuscany, Innocent wrote:

"As God, the creator of the universe, set two great lights in

the firmament of heaven ... so He set two great dignitaries

in the firmament of the universal Church. . . . These digni

taries are the papal authority and the royal power. And just

as the moon gets her light from the sun, and is inferior to the

sun ... so the royal power gets the splendor of its dignity

from the papal authority."

He said that power lay with the two swords, the spiritual

and the temporal. One rested in the hand of the pope, the

other in the hands of the kings. And Innocent never doubted

that the spiritual sword must be raised above the temporal

mercifully but inexorably. Both swords belonged to the

Church, and the temporal weapon was bestowed by it, to

be used on its behalf. All power lay in the hand of the Church.

Innocent was sustained by an unswerving will, by inex

haustible energy. He had, moreover, the wide vision and the

swiftness of thought of a most able statesman.

Realizing that the Church itself must be mobilized to take

command, he was, if possible, more inexorable in reforming

the clergy than in punishing laymen. He was rigid in punish

ment. Forgiveness followed. The sword of authority was

never laid down.

"And so we order . . . the spiritual sword against all here

tics. , . . The indulgence of sins to all those who faithfully

and devoutly aid the Church."

Never did he fail to exact the last bit of retribution. When

a whisper reached his ears of a superstition and a questioning

that was rife among the hamlets of Gascony, he wrote to the

archbishop of Auch: "You shall exercise the rigor of the ec

clesiastical power against them. They may not appeal from

your judgments, and if necessary, you may cause the people

and the princes to suppress them with the sword."

An omen, here, of the terrible thing that was to come later.

Innocent forced every issue to its end, however bitter the

end might be. He said once, "Any evil may be endured to

gain a worthy result." When Philip of France refused to take

back Ingeborg having married again in the interval In-

222 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

nocent laid France under interdict until Philip was compelled

to remarry Ingeborg, although he kept her in prison there

after.

The sword of Rome glittered with a new splendor.

Of all the issues confronting Innocent, the crusade was the

most insistent. Jerusalem lost, the long-treasured cross held

by the far-off infidels, the crusaders clinging to the coast of the

Holy Land, with their backs to the sea. Throughout Christen

dom the cry for the relief of Jerusalem was ceaseless and clear.

Innocent could not close his ears to this cry. He could not

turn aside from the march to the tomb of Christ. The preach

ers of the Church had urged the war, and daily the alms boxes

in the churches were filled by the hands of people who gave

to the aid of the war.

And in the last century, Immense advantages had come to

the Church of Rome through the crusades. For one thing,

men who took the cross placed themselves under the protec

tion of the Church, which watched over their property dur

ing their absence; at such times, the crusaders were answer

able only to ecclesiastical courts, and for the time being they

became virtually subjects of the pope. They were expected to

make gifts to the Church, although they were freed from the

payment of other interest, and debts.

Innocent proclaimed this clearly at his first council:

"We decree that all who have taken the cross shall be

free from all collections, taxes and other burdens. As soon

as they take the cross we receive them and their possessions

under the protection of St. Peter and of ourselves. . . . And

until they return or their death shall be certainly known,

their possessions shall not be molested/

So, in addition to collecting the great tithes for the cru

sades which were cared for by the ecclesiastics until they

were paid out to needy crusaders by themselves or the Tem

plars and Hospitalers the papal officers had a voice in the

administration of bulks of lands, goods, and revenues. In this

way the papal courts could intervene constantly in the af

fairs of the feudal lords.

They also gained the right of requisitioning property, and

INNOCENT SPEAKS 223

of acting as mediators. In a crisis of the great conflict, the

papacy served as counselor and treasurer to fresh multitudes.

As the war flamed up, or died down, the prestige of the pap

acy with the common people rose and fell.

Innocent was not only obligated to champion the war, he

was led to do so by his own interests.

"I hold nearest my heart," he said in a great council, "the

delivery of the Holy Land."

There is no mistaking his earnestness. Victory in the war,

the recapture of Jerusalem, the restoration of the lost churches

these were the keystones of the arch of empire at which he

labored. And from the first this inexorable man threw himself

into the preparation for the new crusade. He spared no one.

A tax was levied, one twentieth of all the income of the cler

ics, and when the silver was slow in coming in, Innocent

contributed one tenth of his own wealth, and of his cardinals .

"Prodigal with others," he stormed at the clerics, "misers

with yourselves!"

He could be eloquent no doubt of that. "What! You will

not open your hands to aid the poverty of Christ! You would

leave Him to be struck, scourged, and crucified anew. You,

who preach to the laymen that they must sacrifice themselves

what do you give, besides words ? Words ! Where are your

acts? Already the laymen reproach you with squandering

the patrimony of Christ upon your dogs and falcons."

The barons who were occupied with their own troubles

and quarrels also drew down the lightning of his indignation.

"They no longer pay attention when the pagans insult us

and say to us, Where is your God? Look, we have profaned

your sanctuaries. In spite of you, we hold fast the cradle of

your fathers superstition. We have broken the lances of

the French. We have overthrown the efforts of the English,

the strength of the Germans, the heroism of the Spaniards.

We have massacred your people in such fashion as to put

their children in mourning for ever. Your kings and nobles

that we have driven long since from the Holy Land have

gone back to hide their fears in the dens they call their

kingdoms. They would rather fight each other than measure

themselves against us. Nothing more remains for us to do

224 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

but to invade in our turn your Christian land and destroy it,

even to the memory of your name/"

Upon the launching of the new crusade hinged most of

Innocent s plans. He spared no pains to learn the exact situa

tion in the East. His cardinals journeyed to the Syrian coast,

his grain ships sailed to the ports of the Holy Land; he cor

responded with Roupen, king of the Armenians, and Amalric,

king of Jerusalem ; he called for reports from the Templars

and Hospitalers, and even wrote personal letters to the

Moslem princes. Clear indeed was the outline of the East,

within the map of his vision.

And never had the prospects for a crusade been brighter.

Great strength of disciplined men waited in the castles of the

military orders; fleets lay in the harbors of the Italian repub

lics. Only an army of European crusaders was needed

twenty thousand more men, perhaps, would be enough.

For Saladin was dead Al Adil removed to Cairo and the

divided Moslems could not withstand such an army.

Innocent heard that great throngs listened to his preach

ers, who went from church to church. One Fulk, cure of

Neuilly, swayed the hearts of multitudes, as Peter the Hermit

had done more than a century before. The common people

followed Fulk about, and it was said that he wrought miracles

by the laying on of hands under his touch the blind saw

again.

Just before Christmas of the year 1x99 word came to the

Lateran that Fulk had preached at a gathering during a tour

nament in Ecry-sur-Aisne. Men opened their purses to him

although some doubting souls dared ask of him an accounting

of the silver. But the chivalry of northern France took the

cross, in the midst of the tournament.

The great count, Thibault of Champagne, took the cross,

and Louis, count of Blois, with the redoubtable Simon of

Montfort. Even the young damsels had gone among the

knights, offering crosses to them.

After the new year, Innocent heard that Baldwin, count

of Flanders, had pledged himself to the crusade, with Marie

his wife and Henry his brother. And before long the knights

of southern Germany took the cross at Bale* On the coast of

INNOCENT SPEAKS 225

Flanders a fleet was making ready. True, a worthy abbot had

said an awkward thing in Bale: "The promise of salvation

is certain, and the hope of gain in wealth is more certain."

But the crusade was launched, sufficient in numbers and

valiant in spirit. The flower of French knighthood chevaliers

who held honor high and scorned personal danger formed its

nucleus. Months later these same chevaliers made an open-

handed treaty with Venice for a fleet to carry them to the

Holy Land.

For the transport of 4,500 knights and their horses, 9,000

esquires, and 20,000 foot sergeants, they agreed to pay the

Venetians 85,000 silver marks, and to yield to the Republic

one half of all the land they conquered. It was a one-sided

bargain, but the Venetians would supply a number of war

galleys.

Innocent noticed that the treaty only stipulated that the

crusaders were to be transported beyond the sea, and that no

mention was made of the coast of the Holy Land. He ap

proved the treaty.

Then, in the winter of 1201, after the months of prepara

tion and the sudden death of the count of Champagne, a

visitor came to the Lateran. Boniface of Montserrat, brother

of the Conrad who had been master of Tyre, had been

elected leader of the crusade, to take the place of Thibault

of Champagne. Now he requested an audience of the pope,

and for hours he was closeted with Innocent.

What they said is not known. But the men of the Lateran

whispered afterward that Boniface had urged leading the

crusaders against Constantinople instead of to Jerusalem,

and Innocent had refused to consent.

XXXI

THE CONSPIRATORS

OOK for a moment into the East, with the watchful eyes

of the Lateran palace. The first thing visible is the long

barrier of the Adriatic, now fast becoming a Venetian

lake. The Lateran is on most friendly terms with the Vene

tians.

Above Venice lies the farther portions of the great German

marks the German marks that have been the worst foes

of the papacy* Just now, after the death of the Hohenstaufen

emperor, his brother Philip of Swabia has been acclaimed

emperor by some of the Germans, but is reluctant to take

the crown away from the infant son of the Hohenstaufen,

Frederick. So there is an interregnum in these German lands,

and Innocent will not mend matters for Philip because he

looks for no good from the hand of a Hohenstaufen espe

cially a Hohenstaufen whose mother was Constance of

Sicily, so that the son holds lands to the south of Rome as

well as to the north.

Instead, he is most amiable to the king of the half-pagan

Hungarians those horsemen who have come out of the East

to dwell above the winding Danube. For the Hungarian will

226

THE CONSPIRATORS 227

act as a check upon the Swabian, at need. But Innocent

looks more to the East, and he is sending his envoys among

the wild Vlachs and the Bulgars below the Danube. He is

extending toward these savage men the mantle of the papacy.

Meanwhile beyond the Adriatic and all the mountains of

Greece lies the dwindling empire of Byzantium, harassed

and tumultuous, its fleet vanished. The emperor of Byzan

tium is also basilei^s of the Orthodox Church that separated

from Rome long since, and now looks upon the popes as

usurpers. Years have been widening the breach between this

Eastern church and the West. One is Greek, the other is

Latin one upholds the sanctuaries of Constantinople, the

other the basilica of Rome.

Deftly and cautiously, Innocent is trying to cross the

breach, to bring Constantinople back into the communion

of Rome. The scholastic of the West is debating with the

theologist of the East, and honors are about even. For Inno

cent can not change the memories of the Byzantines who

still dress the stiff figures of their saints in cloth-of-gold.

Innocent is patient with the ghost of the Caesars. He is

eager to bring the churches of Byzantium under the rule of

Rome. But he threatens a little: the Venetians, having sucked

gold out of Constantinople, hate the Byzantines, and the

duke of Swabia has not forgotten the dream of the Hohen-

staufen; the Normans of Sicily are like wolves, ready to hunt

toward Byzantium.

"Think," Innocent bids this emperor in the East, "if the

duke of Swabia be victorious, crowned emperor, master of

Sicily what peril for Constantinople!"

The emperor does think, but he hides his thoughts behind

suave letters signed with red ink and adorned with an effigy

in raised gold. In reality, Innocent desires nothing less than

the conquest of Constantinople by the Hohenstaufen. That

would place his worst enemy squarely athwart the gateway

of the East. But he draws a sword halfway from its sheath,

allowing the glitter of steel to be seen by the Byzantines,

hoping that they will ally themselves to Rome.

This done, the void in his map of the East would be filled.

All the pagans and near-pagans of the borderlands Prus-

228 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

sians, Lithuanians, and Bulgars can be converted to Rome;

Byzantium can be induced to submit to Rome, and the

Moslems of Asia Minor and the Holy Land can then be

driven out by the crusaders, sent forth by Rome. The

united East would be under the yoke of the papacy.

"Thy Dawn, O master of the world, thy Dawn!"

Innocent dreamed as the Hohenstaufen had dreamed.

Meanwhile lesser human beings wrangled and suffered

and snatched at the power held by others, as they are apt to

do. In Constantinople the old emperor Isaac the Angel, who

built a mosque in his city because he was afraid of Saladin,

had been overthrown by a palace revolution, and blinded and

cast into prison. The new emperor called himself Alexis III,

and carried on the negotiations with Innocent. But the

son of Isaac, who was also named Alexis, managed to escape

from prison and fled across the seas to claim aid for his

father. He went, as it happened, to the court of Philip of

Swabia, the Hohenstaufen who had married the Byzantine

princess, Isaac s daughter.

The young Alexis appealed to Philip of Swabia for aid, in

the first months of the year 1201. But Philip s hands were

tied by the chaos in the German states. Alexis journeyed to

Rome with his shabby elegance and his small entourage of

Greek nobles; he gained an audience with Innocent, and

found that the great pope would not intercede for him. After

this Alexis returned to Philip s court.

He found there, awaiting him, a most able diplomat in a

friendly mood Boniface of Montserrat, who also had mar

ried one of the much-desired princesses of Byzantium. The

three of them discussed the situation, planning ways and

means to lead an army against Constantinople.

Philip would support such an undertaking, and would

profit by it, but could not share in it; Alexis would be the

figurehead of the invasion the son of the dethroned emperor

and Boniface was willing enough to have a finger in the

pie. They all knew the wealth of Constantinople, and the

weakness of its defenders. Here was a world prize ready for

the plucking! But how to go about it? How to raise an army?

THE CONSPIRATORS 229

How they pondered the question and what they said, we

do not know. We are certain only that they were there to

gether the luxury-loving Alexis, the swarthy, eager Boni

face, and the dour, silent Hohenstaufen. The Byzantine

prince would make any promise to be installed as ruler of

Constantinople his blind father could not rule again. All of

them had the same thought that an army was already

mobilizing near at hand. They were thinking, of course, of

the crusaders. Boniface had just been chosen leader of the

crusade.

If they could turn the crusaders aside to invade Byzan

tium, then Constantinople could be seized.

But two obstacles stood in their way. The crusaders them

selves would refuse to go anywhere but toward Jerusalem.

And Innocent could not consent to the invasion of a Christian

empire by the crusade.

It was at Christmas of 1201 that the three princes talked

together. Early in the spring Boniface traveled to Rome and

tried to gain Innocent s support in the venture, as has been

told above.

But, learning that the spirit of the pope [a chronicler relates]

was against this enterprise, he settled the business pertaining to

the crusade, and returned to his own country.

Just who thought of the Venetians first is unknown. It

might have been Alexis, or Boniface, or Philip, Or the Vene

tians themselves may have suggested the plan. But after

failing with Innocent, the conspirators turned to Venice.

The city of the lagoons had old quarrels with Byzantium.

Only a generation ago Venetian merchants had been massa

cred in Pera. The present doge of Venice, the old Dandolo,

had been almost blinded by the Byzantines. Above all, the

republic was gathering to itself little by little the islands that

once had formed the chains of the sea empire of Byzantium

while the Byzantines raged against them, calling them "sea

serpents."

Now the Venetians were to escort the army of crusaders

across the sea. What if they could lead the crusade toward

a 3 o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Constantinople, instead of to Jerusalem? What if they sent

the whole strength of their fleet to support the army ?

Envoys are dispatched from the court of Swabia to the

court of the doge, and men talk together behind guarded

doors. No chronicler relates their words, but Boniface and

Alexis are coming to an understanding with the doge.

The shrewd Venetian considers the problems. He weighs

the dangers ponders the anger of Innocent. He is all for the

Constantinople venture, that will yield new seaports, and

gold, and vengeance. After all, his treaty with the crusaders

only obligates him to transport them over the sea. A way

must be found to lead them into the Dardanelles.

Time is short. Already the first contingents of cross bearers

are entering the roads of Venice. They are crowding the

camps, and their leaders

A stroke of fortune favors the conspirators. It is soon ap

parent that the crusaders can not pay the full sum agreed

upon to Venice.

XXXII

THE DOGE SAILS

WAS then the end of summer the summer of 1202. An

unwonted bustle filled the canals, where the watermen

pushed at the long oars of barges and the slim gondolas

of the nobles slipped beneath the screened balconies of ram

shackle wooden houses. A damp breath came from the

mosquito-infested swamps, in the long evening hours when

the merchants of the Rialto closed their shops and gathered

upon the stone bridges where lanthorns hung and the air was

heavy with the scent of aromatics and cinnamon*

From the balconies women watched, veiled and painted

and guarded by eunuchs behind barred doors. For the lords

of Venice were half-Asiatic in their tastes, and they had

found women to their liking in the portsjrf Greece and the

mountains of Circassia.

The merchants on the bridges wore doublets and cloaks

of velvet and brocades of Damascus. They talked under

their breath of prices over the seas, in the slave market of

Tana, and in the silk souk of Alexandria. Some of them knew

the worth of furs in the land of darkness where the Hyper

boreans dwelt, but all of them held nearest their hearts

232 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the secret privileges of trade, and written treaties that no

court had ever seen.

For they were tasting a new and delightful power that had

been born of the sea.

By the stone edge of the Riva degli Schiavoni clustered the

shadows of ships, the high masts and the slanting yards

tipping drowsily from side to side under the pulse of the

swell. Bound thwart to thwart, the slender war galleys lay

moored to great painted piles. Grotesque dragon heads and

strange impassive women heads peered from the lofty prows

in the glimmer of the mooring lanthorns.

In the harbor of the arsenal lay new galleys, waiting like

inanimate sea serpents to be launched forth upon destruction.

Over them towered the dromonds, fitted with two banks of

oars and heavy square sails, with room in their depths for

five hundred men or more. These were the transports of the

soldiery. Giant busses attended them pot-bellied sailing

craft as high as the dromonds, some of them weighing all of

five hundred tons. They had two or three masts, and no oars.

Along their decks were ranged the timbers of siege engines

and the barrels and hemp sacks that held the stores.

Lesser craft lay moored around these giants of the sea

broad shallow craft to carry horses and fodder: flat-bottomed

barbotes^ or lighters, to land men and horses upon the shore.

Men had labored for months at the quays to outfit this

armada, which was great and strong indeed* For the first

time the Venetians were going to carry an army oversea in

their vessels, and it was whispered along the waterfront that

the fighting craft of the Republic would sail with the cru

saders.

Even at night the alleys and the canals were astir. Cru

saders in mantle and tunic strolled over the bridges, pausing

to enter a chapel to pray, or sitting down on the benches of a

wine shop to eye the veiled shapes of the passing women.

Wine cooled the blood, and made it possible to sleep in this

lifeless air. And presently there would be no more taverns,

and no more women,

By the doors of the palaces fiddles whined and beggars

pressed fprward to cry for alms whenever they caught sight

THE DOGE SAILS 233

of the broad shoulders and clipped beard and long ringlets of

a French lord.

In the open square in front of the domes of St. Mark s,

the crusaders lingered to make the most of the nights that

remained to them on shore. They strolled along the piazza,

staring into open doorways, hailing comrades from the valley

of the Aisne or the fields of Flanders. They wore light linen

mantles and long hose, for they had left their armor in the

barracks of St. Nicholas Island.

They talked impatiently of the long delays. Most of the

chevaliers had emptied their purses during the months on the

road, and had borrowed from those who still had silver in

their wallets. Only a few bought the rare embroidered silks

and the cleverly worked gold images of the Venetian shops,

to send back by courier or Jew to the girls at home.

They were all eager to be aboard ship and on the way to

the Holy Land. The Flemings who had departed long since

must be there by now, and many crusaders had failed to

appear at the rendezvous. The chevaliers did not wish to

wait any longer, because they felt assured that they the

chivalry of the Loire and the Rhine would be able to fight

their way to the Holy City.

So they idled through the warm nights of Venice, while

the ships rocked gently against the stone embankment, and

the bells of St. Mark s summoned them to the hours of

prayer.

One of them, the young castellan of Coucy, passed the

time in his quarters composing a song. Humming under his

breath, he traced words carefully upon a stiff parchment

for this was an important love song, to his wife:

Beau sire Dieu, how may I endure

To leave the comfort and the courtesy

Of my lady, whose sweet allure,

Made her my delight and belle amie.

He had all of a minstrel s skill, this Sieur de Coucy, and

he was very earnest in making this song.

234 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Beau sire Dieu, now must I complain

That she no more may comfort me,

Where I must go. No love will be

Like fierS) that may not be mine again,

At the same time an older man, one Geoffrey of Ville-

Hardouin, was writing down the happenings of the crusade.

He was a soldier, a simple mind, and a very honest gentleman.

He was, besides, marshal of Champagne, so that he sat in

the council of the leaders, and came to know of the bargain

that was made at this time in Venice.

So the count Louis [Ville-Hardouin wrote] and the other barons

went off to Venice, and they were received with a great fte and

great joy, and were lodged with the others in the Island of Saint

Nicholas. Fine indeed was the army and the valiant men; never

did any one ever see so many people, nor finer. And the Venetians

furnished them with a trading place good and sufficient where

everything could be bought for the horses and soldiery, and the

fleet that they had made ready was so rich and fine that no Christian

ever beheld better, with galleys and barges enough for three times

as many men as we had.

Ah, what a pity that the others who went to different ports did

not come there! Christianity would have been lifted up again, and

the Turks cast down. The Venetians had kept their agreement very

well, and now they bade the counts and the barons keep their part

of the agreement and pay the money, for they were ready to set sail,

So the passage money was sought in the army. There were many

who said that they could not pay their passage, and the barons took

from them what they were able to pay. When everything was

collected, they had only half the sum needed. Then the barons

talked together, and said:

"Seigneurs, the Venetians have kept their promise, and more;

but we are too few to make up the sum of money agreed on for our

passage. For God, then, let each of us give what he can, to make

good our promise. Because, if this army does not sail, the conquest

of Outremer must fail."

Then there was a great disagreement, for the larger party of the

barons said, "We have paid for our passages, and if they are willing

to take us, very well; if they are not willing, we will call quits and

INNOCENT III.

He sought world-dominion.

MOSLEM CHIEFTAIN ATTACKING MONGOL OFFICER

Notice in this imaginary duel, the horse armor of

the Moslem and the lariat.

COURTESY OF BLOCHET LES ENLUMINURES DBS MANUSCRITS ORIENTAUX

THE DOGE SAILS 235

go to some other port." And the other party said, "We would rather

put in all our wealth, and go ahead poor than to see the army

separate and break up."

Then the count of Flanders began to pay in all that he had and

all that he could borrow, and the count Louis did the same, and

the marquis and the count of St. Paul and those who held to their

view. You would have seen many fine vessels of gold and silver

carried to the house of the doge, to make up the payment. And

when all had paid thus, 34,000 marks of silver were still lacking of

the sum agreed on.

Then the doge spoke with his people, saying to them, "Sei

gneurs, these men can not pay more, and all that they have paid

belongs to us by the agreement. But our right to it would not be

recognized everywhere and we would be blamed we and our state.

So we ought to compromise with them.

"The king of Hungary has taken from us the great city of Zara,

in Slavonia 1 which is a most strong city, and never with all our

efforts will we be able to recover it from him, unless by the aid of

these men. We should demand that they aid us to conquer Zara,

and we will give them a respite for the 34,000 marks that they owe

us, until God permits us to gain it together we and they, together."

So the agreement was made. It was strongly opposed by those

who wished to divide the army, but soon the accord was made and

approved.

Then everyone assembled round the church of Saint Mark, It was

a very great fte. The people of the country were there, and the

larger part of the barons and pilgrims. Before the Mass began, the

doge of Venice, who was named Henry Dandolo, mounted the

lectern and spoke to his people, saying:

"Seigneurs, you are joined together with the best men in the

world in the highest undertaking that ever has been planned. I am

an old man, and feeble, and I have great need of repose, and I am

crippled in my body, but I see that not one of you knows how to

command so well as I, who am your lord. If you wish to have me

take the cross to safeguard and direct you, while my son remains in

my place and cares for the country, I will go forth to live or die with

you and with the pilgrims."

*Zara lay within Hungary, and it does not appear that the king took it from the

Venetians. Rather, the Venetians wished to take it themselves. Honest Ville-

Hardouin had no suspicion of the treachery of the Venetians at first, and after

wards he was involved himself.

236 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

When they heard that, they cried with one voice:

"We pray you, for God, to grant this and do it, and come with

us!"

Great was then the sympathy of the people of that country and

of the pilgrims, for this valiant man had the best of reasons to

remain behind. For he was old, and could scarcely see since he

had lost his sight from a wound on the head. He was of great heart.

He descended after that from the lectern, and knelt before the

altar. They clothed him with the cross, on the back of a great cotton

cloak for he wanted the people to see it. And the Venetians began

to take the cross in great numbers. Our pilgrims had joy and sym

pathy by reason of this cross that he took because of the wisdom

and prowess that he had in him.

Thus was the doge signed with the cross. Then they began to

make over the galleys and the barges to the barons. So much time

had passed that it was near to September.

Now listen to one of the strangest happenings and greatest

adventures of which you have ever heard.

In these times there was an emperor in Constantinople, named

Isaac; he had a brother named Alexis whom he had ransomed from

a Turkish prison. This Alexis seized his brother the emperor and

plucked the eyes out of his head, and made himself emperor instead

by this treason that you have just heard. He kept his brother

prisoner for long, with a son of his named Alexis.

This son escaped from the prison, and fled in a ship as far as a

city of the sea named Ancona. Thence he departed to go to the king

Philip of Germany who had married his sister; and he came to

Verona in Lombardy, and lodged in the city, and found there a

number of pilgrims and men who were going to join the army. And

they who were with him, who had aided him to escape, said:

"Lord, here is an army in Venice near us the best men and the

best knights in the world, who are going oversea. So do you cry

them mercy, that they may have pity on you and on your father,

so wrongfully disinherited. And if they wish to aid you, then you

will do all that they tell you. Perhaps they will have pity on you."

And he said that this counsel was good, and he would do it will-

ingly. He summoned messengers and sent them to the marquis,

Boniface of Montserrat who was chief of the army, and to the other

barons. And when the barons met them, they marveled much and

said to the messengers:

" We understand well all that you have said. We shall send a mes

sage to the king Philip and to your lord who is there, with him. If he

THE DOGE SAILS 237

is willing to aid us to recover the Holy Land beyond the sea, 1 we will

help to conquer his land for him, since we know it was wrongly

taken away from him and his father."

So the messengers were sent to Germany, to the heir of Constan

tinople and to King Philip.

Before this, that we have told you about, tidings came to the

army that made the barons and other men very sad. Messire Fulk,

the good, the holy man who first preached the crusade, came to his

end and died.

After this happening, a company of good brave men from the

German empire arrived, to the joy of the pilgrims. The bishop of

Halberstadt, the count of Catzenelnbogen, Thierry of Loos came

with many other good men.

Then the galleys and the transports were divided among the

barons. Ah, God, what good war horses were put in them. And when

the ships were loaded with arms and supplies, and knights and

sergeants, the shields were ranged along the rails and the sterns,

and banners hung out, many of them very fine. And know that the

ships carried perriers and mangonels as many as three hundred

and more, and all the engines that are used to capture a city. Never

did a fairer fleet sail from any port. They sailed from the port of

Venice as you have heard.

It was indeed a scene to satisfy the eyes of the veteran

Ville-Hardouin. The drifting vessels, bright with shields and

banners, covered the lagoons. On the stone embankment

throngs of Venetians waved and cried farewell. The heavy

anchors were tugged up, at the blast of a trumpet, and the

square sails hoisted.

Wind filled the sails, and spread the great red crosses out.

Again the trumpets sounded, and men began singing. Some

of them were weeping.

The red galley of the doge turned slowly, its prow pointing

out to sea. On the gilded stern-castle, under the flapping

banners, the doge sat beneath his pavilion of red satin, his

aged face intent.

l La Terrs d y outre-mer. The barons were interested in Alexis story, but only

replied that they would give Alexis aid after their Jerusalem campaign, if he would

join them in that campaign. It must be remembered that the barons were not under

the orders of Boniface. Several of them were equal in rank to the marquis; they had

elected him merely head of the council and treasurer-in-general.

This first offer of the conspirators was not made known to the common soldiers.

238 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

He was leading out a great power of men and ships, and

from that moment rested upon him the responsibility of the

fleet and the fortunes of Venice. He was sailing to the east,

yet his blind eyes were turned not to Jerusalem but toward

the Dalmatian coast and the city of Constantinople.

XXXIII

WHAT VILLE-HARDOUIN SAW

DANDOLO, doge of Venice, was an old man, and

he had reaped the harvest of his years. He had the

pride of a princely family, and the wariness of a

merchant-trader. He was past master of the finesse of in

trigue, and he was perfectly willing to break his word in a

good cause.

For the French crusaders on his ship, no doubt he had

tolerant contempt they knew almost nothing of this part

of the world, and took no pains to hide their ignorance.

Moreover, he held them in his debt. And he meant to use

them in every possible way before granting them quittance

of his debt.

The zeal of the crusaders stirred no enthusiasm in this

aged man, ripe with worldly wisdom. Dandolo served only

Venice. He was prepared to gamble hugely to gain his end,

which was not the destruction of the weakening empire of

Byzantium but the creation of new Venetian colonies from

the dbris of the empire.

And the doge was, as Ville-Hardouin observed, an unusu

ally brave man. Even Dandolo, however, would not have

239

2 4 o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

ventured to sail with his fleet direct to Constantinople instead

of to Jerusalem. Ignorant as the crusaders were, they would

know east from south; besides, he must bring them to Con

stantinople in a friendly mood, or nothing could be done.

Innocent, also, must be induced to give his approval to the

venture no easy matter.

So the council of Venice had hit upon the expedient of

Zara. If the crusaders could be led to capture Zara, they

would be smirched. They had vowed not to lift weapon

against Christians, and Innocent had warned them against

making war on Christians. They would then be obliged to

send to the pope for his pardon. If Innocent cast the weight

of his anger upon the crusaders, and excommunicated them,

the crusade would be broken up.

The Venetians did not believe Innocent would do this. And

if he pardoned the crusaders for Zara, they could expect that

he would be equally merciful in the case of Constantinople,

Meanwhile, time would be lost at Zara, and the autumn

storms would make the Jerusalem voyage difficult. The

Venetians themselves cared little for the papal interdict.

The council of Venice felt itself a match for the Curia of the

Lateran.

In one way or another, Dandolo managed to take a month

to sail down the Dalmatian coast to the break in the line of

hills where stood the walled port of Zara. There, matters

went well enough. True, a religieux, the stern abbot of Vaux,

presented himself before the barons, and exhorted them:

"Seigneurs, I forbid you, on behalf of the pope of Rome, to

attack this city, for it is a Christian city, and you are pil

grims."

And certain of the pilgrims, being out of sympathy with

the bargain, talked to the people upon the wall of Zara,

saying that they need fear no attack from the crusaders.

Dandolo put a stop to that at once.

"My lords," he reminded the leaders, "you have promised

that you will aid me to take this city, and now I ask that you

redeem your promise."

.. It was soon done. The fleet forced a way into the harbor,

breaking, the chain across the channel; the crusaders set tip,

WHAT VILLE-HARDOUIN SAW 041

their engines, began their bombardment, and mined the wall.

In five days the people of Zara made terms went out with

their lives, leaving the city abandoned to the invaders.

Dandolo asked that the crusaders occupy one half, and the

Venetians the other.

"My lords/ he explained, "winter is come, and the season

of storms. We shall not be able to move out of here until

Easter, because we can not obtain supplies along the way.

This city and country, however, is well able to supply what

we need."

To this the crusaders agreed without discussion, and as

Dandolo expected, they sent envoys to the papal court to

explain why they had turned aside to Zara. In time the re

sponse came. Innocent, when he heard the tale of the messen

gers, had been angered. "Instead of winning the Holy Land,"

he had exclaimed, "you have shed the blood of your broth

ers!" But he took no action against them, merely warning

them to keep together, and to hold to the crusade.

The next incident was the arrival of Boniface of Montserrat

who had lingered behind to watch events in Rome, and to

keep in touch with Philip of Swabia. 1 He was soon followed

by couriers from Germany, bearing a new offer from Philip.

The Hohenstaufen s missive began by reminding the cru

saders that they were at war on behalf of God against injustice,

and that the young Alexis had been the victim of injustice.

Now, Alexis could aid them to conquer the Holy Land.

If they aided Alexis to recover his empire the Byzantine

heir agreed to place Constantinople under obedience to

Rome. Since they had spent all their money, he agreed to

While Boniface was in Rome, the emperor Alexis sent envoys to the papal court

to protest urgently against the invasion of Constantinople by the crusaders rumors

of the undertaking having reached his ears.

Innocent hesitated, and discussed the matter with the council of cardinals.

Then, privately, he warned Boniface not to let the crusade go toward Constantinople

but publicly he responded to the Byzantine envoys that only by submission to the

Church of Rome could they gain his intercession in their favor. He tried to profit

from Alexis* fears to bring about the forced union of the churches.

Actually, either willingly or unwillingly, he paved the way for the conspirators.

Boniface, delighted, hastened to join the crusaders. From that time he and Dandolo,

knowing that Innocent had threatened Constantinople with the crusaders, played

their hands freely.

THE FLAME OF ISLAM

give them aoo,ooo marks of silver. And he would go with

them in person to the Holy Land, or send instead 10,000

men at his expense, for a year. More than that, he agreed to

keep 500 armed men in service at the Holy Land as long as he

lived.

Philip s envoys explained that they had full powers to

conclude the treaty. They added that so fine an offer had

never been made to any men before, and that the crusaders

would be lacking in spirit to refuse it.

This appeal was most cleverly worded. It challenged their

pride, and promised aid for the Jerusalem venture at the

same time; it offered an enormous amount of money and

most of the crusaders had had time to appreciate the humilia

tion of an empty purse. Moreover, it held out the bait of

winning Constantinople for the pope.

In their minds Constantinople was the queen city of the

earth, fabulously rich, filled with precious relics of the saints

and other wonderful things. What a feat of arms to conquer

this abode of emperors! And what spoil to be had! And how

well they were equipped for just such an enterprise. The

marquis favored it, the doge approved it, and all the Vene

tians were eager to set out.

Gravely the leaders of the army talked it over in council.

They talked it over, Ville-Hardouin remarks, in more than

one sense, because they could not agree. The dour abbot of

Vaux spoke for his party, pointing out that many of them

would not agree to go anywhere but toward Syria.

"Beaux Seigneurs" others answered, "in Syria you can

do nothing. The parties who have left us and gone on by

other ports have been able to do nothing. Only through Egypt

or the land of the Greeks can the Holy Land be recovered, if

it is ever recovered. If we refuse this agreement we shall be

shamed."

And the abbot of Loos preached to them, saying, "By

this agreement we can best regain the Holy Land."

At the end of the debate, the great lords cast their decision

for Constantinople, saying that they would be disgraced if

they did not go. Boniface of Montserrat, Baldwin of Flanders,

Count Louis, and Count Hugh went to the residence of the

WHAT VILLE-HARDOUIN SAW 243

doge and pledged themselves to go, by oaths and sealed

treaty* Only a dozen signed the treaty,

A large party of the crusaders could not be weaned away

from Syria. Renaud of Montmirail begged Count Louis for a

ship, and sailed to the south with his knights. Daily, men

went off, angered, in the vessels of the merchants who put

in with supplies. Five hundred managed to get a ship for

:Uemselves, and were caught in a storm off the coast, every

man being drowned. Another party dared journey by land,

t\d the remnants of it drifted back to Zara after fighting

with the Hungarians.

Hard-headed Simon of Montfort went off, with the abbot

of Vaux, after securing a safe-conduct from the king of the

Hungarians. A whole division of the army planned to with

draw, and was only restrained by a pledge that within two

weeks after the capture of Constantinople they would be

^iven ships to go to Syria.

Meanwhile Alexis appeared with a small following, to be

greeted ceremoniously by the doge, and paraded among

tiie curious crusaders. Dandolo had no wish to delay. Swiftly

the walls of Zara were dismantled and the ships loaded again

iind headed down the coast.

The Venetians had won the contest in the council chamber,

hut the open sea and the walls of Constantinople lay in their

path.

It was a strange fellowship that set forth in the spring of

the year 1203 toward the east. No one man held the com

mand, as in the good ship Argo; a band of men went together

into a common enterprise no heroes, certainly, but very

human beings. Boniface, the Jason of this voyage, might

indeed have been dazzled by the fleece of gold; yet his hard

and practical mind beheld only political advantage to be

gained. The blind Dandolo, intriguing for his city, dreaming

perhaps of personal vengeance, caught at every bit of land

that might build an empire in the seas. The weak Byzantine

prince, having promised what he never could pay, hoped to

wrest a crown for himself out of the delusion of others. And

the crusading barons, drifting from one entangling pledge

244 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

to another, understanding little, dreamed of a great victory

and glory to be gained.

They were entering the east, of which the minstrels had

sung whence the Magi had come with their gifts, and

whither Roland once had sought Cathay. And they beheld

new marvels with eager interest.

The galleys, the long oars swinging, drifted into the great

harbor of Corfu, overhung by gardens and forested hills.

For three weeks men and horses rested in fields where white

lilies grew and orange trees blossomed. Then all the ships

went forth again. "And the day/ Ville-Hardouin explains,

"was fine and clear, the wind fair and mild; they raised the

sails to the wind."

Along the rocky shore of Greece they coasted, over the

water that became clear and blue and tranquil as the days

passed. On the hills they saw the tiny domes of churches

and the terraces of vineyards. At the island called Andros

some of them landed with horses and arms, to climb the hot

hills and bring in the astonished Greeks to submit to the

young Alexis. Dandolo had seen to this.

Passing from one island to another, they crossed the

drowsy Aegean, putting in at evening to moonlit shores,

where they landed to search for water while the galleys lay

like sleeping ships upon the tideless inlets. And in these days

died Guy, the castellan of Coucy, who had made in Venice

the song to his wife. His body, covered with his shield, was

slipped into the sea. The minstrels, however, did not forget

his song.

Beau sire Dieu, now must I complain

That she no more may comfort me

Where I must go. . . .

In mid-June, when the evenings were long and tranquil,

they passed the brown peak of Lemnos and sailed in toward

the mainland. A narrow gut of water opened up before them.

On the left hand, a long gray spit of land appeared, and on

the right dark hills above a low shore. Sea gulls clamored

over the masts, swooping down to drift upon the troubled

water behind the ships.

WHAT VILLE-HARDOUIN SAW 245

Some of the crusaders knew that this strait was the Helles

pont, or Dardanelles, and that Troy had stood on the breast

of the right-hand shore. Most of them called it the Arm of

St. George, because the priests who were wisest in such shat

ters assured them that the tomb of the warrior saint was near

the water. At all events, it seemed to be a good omen.

They put in at a small town clustered around a cathedral,

beneath a clay bluff, and the people of the town came out to

submit to them. They christened the place Avie and waited

there eight days for lagging ships to come up.

Then they emerged from the strait with a strong wind, the

scattered vessels filling the stretch of water as far as a man

could see. They crossed the open stretch of the Marmora

under a cloudy sky, while fishing craft fled before them like

gulls. In the haze toward the east they made out a low shore,

and upon a point of the shore the gleam of white marble.

And then [Ville-Hardouin relates] the ships and the galleys came

into full sight of Constantinople. Yet you should know that they

looked long upon Constantinople, as those who had never seen it.

For they never thought that there could be in the world so rich a

city, when they beheld these high walls and strong towers by which

it was encircled, and these rich palaces and lofty churches, of

which there were so many that no one who had not beheld them

could believe it and the length and the size of this city that was

sovereign of all others in the world. And know that no man was so

hardy that his flesh did not crawl at the sight; and this was no

marvel, for never was so great an affair undertaken by men since

the beginning of the world.

XXXIV

AT THE SEA WALL

3T WAS, indeed, a great undertaking. No doubt about that.

As they rowed up and down before the city, the cru

saders felt awed by it. And they remembered that the

Arabs, Huns, and Bulgars had gone against it in vain. No

foeman had penetrated its walls in eight hundred years.

To their eyes, it loomed huge and forbidding, and they

gazed at it in a kind of fascination. Constantinople had been

built where the Marmora Sea narrowed to the Bosphorus

Strait. It was like a triangle, blunt at the point where the

great dome of the Sancta Sophia rose above the gardens of

the palaces. On the right-hand side of the triangle the city

wall faced the sea, so that the water washed against the dark

stones. On the left-hand side the wall curved around the

crook of the Golden Horn, which was the long, narrow harbor

of the city.

Along the base of the triangle, the wall faced the land.

Here a deep moat made approach difficult, and the great

towers of the inner wall covered the smaller, outer barrier.

These towers, square and solid, rose more than forty feet

from the ground; and they had arrow ports opening on every

246

AT THE SEA WALL

247

side. The crusaders had heard tales of the machines upon the

wall machines that cast forth the deadly Greek fire.

They saw that the narrow mouth of the Golden Horn was

barred by a great chain hanging between two towers. Behind

this chain clustered the Byzantine galleys and merchant

EUROPE

CONSTANTINOPLE AT THE TIME OF THE

CRUSADES

The palaces, except for the Blachernae, were at the point of

the city, marked III. In Ville-Hardouin s narrative Chrysopolis

is called Skutari.

ships. On the opposite side of the Golden Horn stood the

suburb of Galata on a steep height, with a round gray tower

brooding over it.

Dandolo and his Venetians knew the lie of the land very

well, and the doge did a wise thing. He advised the barons to

land for a while on the side of the Bosphorus opposite Con

stantinople, to rest and to forage for supplies in the open

country. Naturally, the emperor had gathered all his soldiery

in the city, and they would not be molested on this side of

the strait.

His advice proved to be excellent, for the crusaders took

possession of the suburbs of Chalcedony and Skutari, quarter-

248 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

ing themselves in the deserted palaces of the Byzantines

marveling much at the splendor of them and occupying

themselves with gathering in the nearly ripe harvest from

the fields, while they lingered on the heights and stared

at the domes and gigantic statuary of the city a league away.

To them the emperor sent an envoy, offering them a

treasure of gold if they would depart and leave his land.

Conon de Bethune rose and answered the envoy:

"Beau sire, you have said to us that your lord is amazed

because we, lords and barons, have entered his lands. Into

his lands we have not entered, for he gained them wrongly

and sinfully, and against God and right. They belong to his

nephew who is here with us the son of the emperor Isaac.

"But if your lord wishes to submit to the mercy of his

nephew, and surrender to him the crown and the empire,

we will pray him to pardon him.

"And if you do not return to us with this submission, do

not return again."

The envoy did not appear again, and the barons made

ready for their adventure. In Baldwin and his youthful

brother Henry they had experienced soldiers well able to

weigh the hazards they faced. The first thing they did was

to divide their small army into "battles," or corps, with

Baldwin and Henry in command of the advance corps. The

Burgundians, Lombards, and Germans formed the rear

corps, under Boniface.

Dandolo aided them but could no longer dictate to them,

for this was a matter of fighting, and the barons knew what

they were about. The Venetians wanted the attack to be

made upon the sea wall, pointing out that the crusaders were

not numerous enough to hold the open country against the

Greeks which would be necessary if they attacked from

the land side.

The barons answered that that was all very well, but they

had no skill at fighting upon the decks of ships; they were

accustomed to their horses and the feel of firm earth beneath

them, and they would fight in their own fashion, upon land.

So it was agreed that the Venetians would attack the sea

wall while the crusaders stormed the land wall.

AT THE SEA WALL 249

After sunrise of the day chosen for the crossing, the leaders

mounted and went to their commands, while the bishops and

clergy passed among the soldiers hearing their confessions

and taking their last testaments. The men did this readily, in

good spirits.

It was a fair morning, with little wind. The groups of

knights and esquires led their horses down to the waiting

barks. Everyone was in mail, the helmets laced; the horses

were saddled, and draped in heavy leather and iron mesh.

Men-at-arms filed into the transports, their shields slung on

their backs. Then the oared galleys were brought up, and

made fast to the heavier transports in order to cross the strait

more quickly. The young Alexis appeared with his grandees,

greeted the barons, and entered his ship. A trumpet sounded

and others answered down the shore. The fleet moved out into

the strait.

It did not make for Constantinople; instead it bore down

on the Galata shore, where a division of the Byzantine army

was encamped. The galleys made straight for the stone quays

and the gravel beach. With Greek arrows hissing around

them, knights leaped from the first transports, waist deep

into the water.

No one hung back. The sergeants followed with the arch

ers. Arrows sped back at the Greeks, and the crusaders

pressed forward with leveled spears. The Greek soldiery

gave way, retreated down to the Golden Horn. The crusaders

took possession of the abandoned camp, while others went to

look at the Galata tower.

They did not hurry. All the army was brought across and

quartered along the Galata shore, in the abandoned ware

houses of the Jews. The next morning the garrison in Galata

castle made a sally but did not manage to take the crusaders

unaware. Knights and men-at-arms fought hand to hand

with the Greek mercenaries, driving them back toward the

harbor, and following them so close that some of the knights

entered the tower itself. The hill and fortress of Galata were

now in their hands.

Meanwhile the Venetians forced the harbor. Some of the

war galleys were driven at the chain, and one of them,

THE FLAME OF ISLAM

equipped with a steel beak upon its prow, succeeded in

breaking the taut chain. The galleys rowed in, spreading

havoc among the Byzantine vessels along the Golden Horn,

until they held the whole stretch of water.

For four days the knights consolidated their new position,

repairing bridges that the Greeks had broken down and

gathering in fresh supplies. On the fifth day they moved

again, around the long crook of the Golden Horn, to the

land wall of Constantinople. They kept close to the water,

to have the support of the ships on their left flank.

Baldwin and his barons climbed to the top of a hill crowned

by an old abbey, and surveyed the wall in front of them, at

the corner where the land wall meets the wall of the harbor.

Here, behind round towers, rose the terraces and flat roofs

of one of the great palaces, the Blachernae in which the em

peror himself had his residence.

While the siege engines were brought up by the industrious

sailors, the crusaders built a palisade and ditch around their

new camp, and beat off sallies by the Byzantines who came

and went elsewhere at will out of the various gates of the

land wall.

The crusaders* camp only faced a single corner of the

mighty triangle of the city, and they were too wise to scatter

their men. Within the city there were perhaps a dozen men

of all sorts to one soldier outside. But the ranks of the Byzan

tines were filled by mercenaries, Norsemen of the famous

Varangian guard, Slavs and Saxons and Turks stalwart

warriors who fought for hire and kept faith with their masters

so long as they were well led. Greek noblemen and horsemen

from the provinces made up the cavalry, and the armed

rabble of the city helped man the wall. But the real strength

of the emperor lay in the mercenaries who alone were capable

of standing against the mailed swordsmen of the West.

Meanwhile the skillful Venetians had put their ships in

order for the attack on the sea wall. They set up engines on

the lofty fore and after decks of the galleys, and they erected

flying bridges at the crossyards upon the masts, attaching

ropes to the bridges so that they could be lowered at any

given moment by the crew below. By bringing their galleys

AT THE SEA WALL 251

alongside the towers, Dandolo s men hoped to be able to

lower the flying bridges against the summits of the towers,

and cross to the wall, covered by the missiles from the engines

and crossbows, of which they had a great number.

All this occupied ten days and not until the seventeenth

of July were the trumpets sounded for the assault. What

followed is related by Ville-Hardouin:

Four battle corps went to the assault, with the count Baldwin of

Flanders. Against the outer wall near the sea and this wall was

well manned by English and Danes they placed two ladders. The

attack was strong and good and hard. By sheer force some knights

and two sergeants climbed up the ladders and gained the wall.

Fifteen men in all got upon the wall and fought body to body,

with sword and ax. Then the garrison made a new effort, and cast

them back savagely, so that two were made captive.

Thus the attack was checked on the side of the French, with

many men wounded, and the barons very angry.

While this was happening, the doge of Venice had not neglected

the battle. Nay, he had arranged his galleys and ships into a line,

and this line was three crossbow shots in length. The ships drew in

to the shore 1 that lay under the wall and the towers. Then you

would have seen missiles fly from the mangonels of the ships, and

the bolts of the crossbows shoot up, and volleys of arrows. ^

Those within the wall defended themselves strongly, while the

ladders of the ships drew so near that in several places they were

hacked by swords and lances. The tumult waxed so great that it

seemed to engulf all the land and the sea. And the galleys did not

dare to lay themselves against the shore.

Now you will hear of a rare deed of bravery. For the doge of

Venice, who was an old man and almost blind, was all armed upon

the fore-deck of his galley, and he had the gonfanon of Saint Mark

held before him. He cried to his men to bring the galley against the

shore, or he would wreak punishment upon their bodies.

So they do this for the galley touches the shore, and they leap

out. They carry the gonfanon of Saint Mark ashore before the doge.

And when the Venetians see the gonfanon of Saint Mark ashore,

and the galley of their lord against the land, then each ; one deems

himself shamed and all make toward the shore. Those in the open

boats leap upon the embankment, and those from the great ships

^his was on the harbor side where the wall s^ood back a little from the water,

to give room for landing places and steps.

252 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

climb down into barges and gain the shore most swift and eager

in their rivalry.

Then you would have seen a marvelous and great assault. For the

banner of Saint Mark was seen rising over one of the towers, though

no one knows who carried it thither.

It was a rare miracle. Those within flee and abandon the wall,

and those outside enter in, swift and eager in their rivalry. They

take twenty-five towers 1 and garrison them with their men. And

the doge gets into an open boat, and he sends a message to the

barons, to let them know that twenty-five towers have been taken.

The barons are so joyous that they can hardly believe that this is

true.

When the emperor Alexis saw that they had entered the city in

this fashion, he began to send his men against them in great num

bers, so that it seemed as if they could not hold out. Then they cast

fire down between themselves and the Greeks, because the wind

was behind our men. The fire caught in the houses and spread so

that the Greeks Could no longer see our men, and had to retire.

Then the emperor Alexis of Constantinople went out with all the

forces of the city, by other gates which were all of a league distant

from our camp. He drew up his men in battle array in the plain, and

they rode toward our camp, and when our French saw them, they

ran to arms everywhere. But the count, Baldwin of Flanders, was

guarding our engines under the wall of the Blachernae.

Six of our corps of battle ranged themselves outside the palisade

of the camp, while the sergeants and esquires formed on foot behind

them, and the archers and crossbowmen behind them. And they

waited thus before the palisade, which was wise because if they

had sallied into the plain they would have been overwhelmed by

the numbers of the enemy who had forty battle corps to our six.

^ The emperor Alexis rode near enough for the archers on both

sides to begin to shoot. When the doge of Venice heard of this, he

made his men leave the towers they had taken; he hastened toward

the camp, and was himself the first to set foot to shore, to lead his

men to us.

Then the Greeks dared not cast themselves against our line,

while our men would not leave the palisade.

^ When the emperor Alexis understood this, he began to withdraw

his troops; and when the army of pilgrims saw that, they rode for

ward at a foot pace. The Greeks retreated within the wall.

^he towers of the Byzantine city were built within bowshot of one another.

The Venetians held nearly a mile of the wall.

AT THE SEA WALL 253

So the battle rested on this day, for it pleased God that nothing

more should happen. The emperor Alexis went off to his palace, and

the men of the army returned to their tents and disarmed, for they

were weary enough. They ate and drank only a little, for they had

little to eat or to drink.

The siege was not resumed the next day. For that same

night Alexis, the usurper emperor, took his daughter and a

thousand pounds of gold and slipped from the palace. Un

known to the city, he entered a boat with a few followers

and sailed into the Marmora, leaving his wife, the rest of his

family, and his people to face the situation.

Whereupon the Greek nobles naturally released the blind

Isaac from prison and carried him in state to the Blachernae

so that there would be at least the figure of an emperor

on the throne, and the cause of the war could be removed.

Messengers were sent out to the young Alexis, bidding him

enter the city to take his place in peace beside his blind father.

The crusaders were rather amazed at this sudden change

of front; but they did not trust the Greeks overmuch, and

sent envoys in to remind Isaac of their treaty that Con

stantinople was to be placed under the Church of Rome, that

200,000 marks of silver were to be paid them, and 10,000

Byzantines sent with them to the Holy Land.

The old Isaac had not been told of this, and it troubled

him. He replied that it was a great deal to do, but he would

agree to carry out the conditions.

The army of crusaders rejoiced. Now at last the way

was clear to Jerusalem. The matter of Constantinople had

been settled, the season was good for the voyage, and in a

month they might be off the coast of Acre. Some of them

escorted Alexis in to his father, and they made no objection

when they were requested to move back to the Galata camp

to avoid rioting between their men and the Byzantines.

A date was set for the coronation of Alexis, and the first

100,000 marks of silver half the sum agreed on were paid

them by Alexis. Of this, half went to the Venetians by the

agreement that the Italians were to divide evenly with the

westerners all that was gained on the crusade, and the

254 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

French lords paid up in addition the 34,000 marks that they

owed the seamen of the lagoons for their passage. 1

This done, they expected to sail. But Alexis appeared in

their camp, to ask for more time explaining that the empire

was in chaos, with the usurper in Adrianople, and he had no

means of raising the rest of the money. If they left, he in

sisted, he would have a civil war on his hands.

Behind the pleading of the weak Byzantine was the strong

will of Dandolo. The doge had no desire to take his fleet to

Jerusalem. He wanted to penetrate Byzantium, and at this

moment of mutual suspicion he was in his element. He

caused the crusaders to remember that the term of their

original treaty with him expired at the end of September.

It was now the end of July, and two months would not serve

to gain anything in the Holy Land. But if they would agree

to remain at Constantinople until spring, they could seat

Alexis firmly on his throne, collect the money due them,

and sail for Syria with all the summer before them. He would

agree to put the fleet at their disposal for another year.

The barons were fairly bewildered by this artful shifting

of the issue. It was perfectly true that they had only hired

the Venetians until St. Michael s day, about two months

distant. They had also sworn to aid Alexis to regain his

throne, and now it seemed that they would have to reconquer

all his empire for him. A deep anger stirred in them, but it

did not find a voice. Boniface, the marquis, understood very

well the intrigue that was sapping their will, but he kept his

own counsel, having his own game to play.

The barons withdrew to talk matters over. It seemed to

them that they were chasing a pot of gold beneath an elusive

rainbow yet the gleam of gold dazzled some of them who

: It needs a moment s reflection to appreciate the really brilliant profiteering of the

Venetians. They had now been paid the full amount of the 85,000 marks to transport

the crusaders to Syria, and besides had 50,000 tribute from the Byzantines. They

had Zara and several islands to boot. Yet the crusaders were not halfway to Syria,

and the Venetians had no intention of taking them.

Nor could Dandolo be taken to task by the letter of his agreements. He had obli

gated himself in the first place only to transport the crusaders "over the sea,"

which he had done. He had agreed to accept Zara as a "respite" for the balance

due him, and he had granted the respite.

AT THE SEA WALL 255

had seen the splendor of Constantinople. Others demanded

ships to sail at once to Jerusalem.

In the end [Ville-Hardouin explains] the affair was settled in

this manner: the Venetians made oath to keep the fleet here for a

year counting from Saint Michael s day; the emperor Alexis swore

to give them all that he could; the pilgrims swore to support him

and remain here for a year.

Dandolo now could afford to wait for the inevitable to

happen, and happen it did. While the barons were off on an

expedition to bring the northern country into submission to

the new emperor, rioting broke out between the crusaders

and Byzantines in Constantinople. During the rioting some

men set fire to the ramshackle wooden houses along the

harbor. It is not certain who they were, but they may well

have been the Venetians. The conflagration, fanned by a

high wind, spread to the heights and destroyed some of the

fine palaces and churches, even damaging the Sancta Sophia.

The barons, returning, were sincerely grieved by the havoc,

but the Byzantines were angered beyond remedy. Some of

them tried to destroy the Venetian fleet with fireships in

retaliation, and the sailors barely managed to save their

vessels.

By now the nobles of Constantinople were ready to be rid

of the young Alexis and his blind father. They chose a certain

Murtzuple for leader, and brought about one of the palace

revolutions that Constantinople had witnessed so often.

Alexis and his father were seized in their sleep, hurried out

of the Blachernae and into cells underground, where the

blind man soon died from poison. Alexis, surviving poison,

was strangled by assassins and ended his miserable life on

the first day of the new year 1204.

The gates of Constantinople were closed against the cru

saders, who, with two years of frustration gnawing at them,

were now enraged in their turn. Without hesitation they pre

pared to storm the city.

But Dandolo, with his opportunity at hand, was careful

to call them into conference and to have them agree that if

256 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

they took the city, a new emperor should be chosen by six

Venetians and six crusaders, and a quarter of the city allotted

to him. The other three quarters were to be divided equally

between Venetians and crusaders, and the outlying country

also.

The blind man was looking into the future with a vision

more clear than that of the barons, who had all their eyes to

see and yet saw not.

XXXV

BYZANTIUM FALLS

PRING had come to the Bosphorus, and the Judas trees

were in bloom again. The poplars of the palace gardens

thrust their green tracery against the white marble

walls, and sheep grazed in the meadows by the reservoirs.

It was Palm Sunday, but no procession of children carried

branches through the streets of the city. In the churches the

priests prayed in their robes of cloth-of-gold, lifting weak

hands toward the altars. Behind the priests veiled women

wept, and slaves stood ill at ease listening to the echoes of a

distant tumult. A north wind was blowing through the streets

of Constantinople, ruffling the dark water outside the wall.

And from the wall itself, borne by the wind, came the

roar of human conflict that had begun the day before and

had not ceased. Above the pulse of the swell that beat against

the embankment could be heard the splintering of the oars

of galleys, the crashing of the engines hurling rocks and

blocks of marble that soared briefly into the air and dropped

upon the decks of the barbarians without. The cries and

shouting of men rose and fell with the wind.

The barbarians, clad in iron, were attacking the wall,

climbing over the bodies of their dead, mad with the lust of

257

258 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

fighting. They had been cast back and broken, but they were

pressing on again.

So the veiled women prayed, stifling the fear that clutched

at them ladies of the court, wrapped in dark cloaks, prin

cesses born in the purple chamber, Greek slaves, pallid be

neath enameled head bands they vowed candles to the

shrines and offered jewels to the saints, if only the wall would

hold against that human tide.

They had been told that the engineers had built wooden

hoardings upon the parapet, to ward off the flying bridges

of the galleys, and that engines had been placed upon the

towers to keep the ships away. They had seen smoke rising

from the wall, and drifting over the city, like some huge ill-

omened bird with wide dark wings.

By the gates of the churches black slaves clustered around

the empty litters of the women. With a pounding of hoofs,

Greek youths galloped past, brave in gilded breastplates and

plumed helmets. Through the swirling dust came companies

of swordsmen, long-haired Norsemen marching with a steady

tread beside swarthy Armenians. Against the sky, their blue

shubas whipping in the wind, Jews stood on the housetops

watching the wall with anxious faces.

Only the wide forums were deserted except by bands of

restless dogs, and men who ran at times past the lines of

impassive statues. Long-dead emperors turned stony faces

to the tumult, poising scepters in uplifted arms. No one

heeded them. They belonged to the day when Constantinople

had been mistress of all the seas a city guarded by the

angels, indifferent to wars.

In the taverns by the harbor, slightly wounded soldiers

flung themselves down on benches, and shook their heads

over goblets of red Cyprian wine. They were silent, or they

talked hurriedly in varied tongues. Some said that the leader

of the Ducas family, the one called Murtzuple, who wore the

purple buskins of an emperor, had sallied out to meet the

Franks in the field, taking with him the stone figure of

the Virgin. And now the figure was bound upon one of the

masts of the crusaders galleys, for all to see. An evil omen,

that.

BYZANTIUM FALLS 259

And some had seen a galley driven by the wind against a

tower. From the bridge of the galley a Venetian sailor and an

armed knight crawled through one of the embrasures. The

Venetian was killed, but the knight still held out in the

tower.

But the Franks had been beaten once, and they would be

again, for twenty thousand men could never break through

the wall. Soon it would be dark, the fighting at an end.

So they talked, gulping their wine, while the smoke grew

thicker overhead. Voices clamored in the street, and a cry

went up:

"Four towers are taken by the Franks."

The roar of conflict upon the wall spread down into the

nearest alleys. A band of Varangians, their scarlet cloaks dim

in the twilight, marching toward the wall, was met by a

rabble of Greeks running without arms. The guardsmen

drew their swords and slashed a path through the fugitives,

stepping over the bodies. With a steady stride they went on,

until smoke swirled down and hid them and they came to a

line of burning houses whence women fled carrying bundles

in their arms.

The women clutched at the giant Norsemen, who had kept

order in the city since forgotten times. But the flames were

an enemy that no sword could deal with, and the officer in

command of the guards gave an order. The Varangians forced

their way out of the multitude toward the nearest palace.

Across the city by the reservoirs, a horseman emerged from

the cover of a garden. He wore gray iron mesh from his foot

to his chin, and the reins of his horse were iron chains. A round

steel cap was close-drawn upon his eyes. In his right hand the

crusader held a bare sword. Curiously, he glanced about him,

and urged his charger down into the wide avenue that led

toward the heart of the city. Other horsemen followed the

knight. They had cJome through the splinters of a postern

gate, and the only enemies they met were the deserted tents

of a Byzantine regiment and the grazing sheep.

Over the drifting smoke the red glow of sunset deepened

in the sky. Against the striped walls of the Blachernae dark

bodies of French archers assembled. Robed priests fled from

a6o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the little domes of the Pantokrator, and in the shadows some

women wailed. A crusader dismounted from his horse, and

went into the church. Before his torn and dusty surcoat, he

held his shield advanced.

But the basilica was empty lighted only by tapers that

fluttered at the wind s touch, beneath a holy picture. The

crusader looked at the altar on which silver boxes rested,

and at the stiff forms of mosaic saints. Turning on his heel,

he went out. When darkness had quite settled down a group

of spearmen with a lighted torch stamped into the church,

and snatched up the silver boxes.

Baldwin rode among his men, ordering them back into

ranks. Esquires carrying spluttering torches trotted behind

him, so that all could see the wedge-shaped helmet and the

shield bearing a rearing lion that marked the count of Flan

ders from the other lords. When he met groups of knights

he bade them dismount and go back to their men. He said

that three battle corps of the crusaders were within the wall,

but if they pressed on into the main city, they would be lost

in the labyrinth of streets. He ordered his standard planted

in an open square, and men-at-arms hastened up with

benches and planks to feed the great fires that lighted the

square. Around the fires crouched captives, gypsies and

Jewish hags, and wandering children for in these open fields

the gypsies and riff-raff had camped. Black goats galloped

aimlessly among the horses. The knights began to count the

palfreys and the mules their men had gathered in.

Beyond the light of the fires the darkness was filled with a

rustling and a pattering of feet. Shadowy forms slipped over

the roofs. Beyond this fringe of sound and movement lay

Constantinople, hidden and vast, with the domes of great

churches and the shafts of lofty columns standing upon the

heights against the stars. Here and there a cresset blazed,

fanned by the north wind, or a torch flickered and vanished.

The crusaders looked into the darkness drowsily, wonder

ing what new magic the artful Byzantines were concocting

against them, and what was happening to the treasure troves

that were secreted in this citadel of strange peoples and un

known tongues. They heard Venetian trumpets sound at

BYZANTIUM FALLS 261

intervals on the harbor wall, to their left. And messengers

came in from the marquis Boniface whose troops were quar

tered a little ahead of them, between them and the Venetians

-r-so that the invaders held this northern corner of the city.

All but the great Blachernae palace at the point of the corner,

where Varangians and slaves still guarded the gates. It

seemed to Ville-Hardouin that it would take months to cap

ture the citadels of this place.

Either the suspense proved too much for Boniface s Lom

bards, or they began to loot the houses around them. For

they set fire to the wooden tenements. The flames leaped the

narrow alleys, and licked their way under the roofs, soaring

beneath the blast of the wind, eating a path to the south,

with no one to check them. Soon the glow of the conflagration

could be seen from all the walls.

In the courtyard of the Bucoleon the Greek cavalry was

summoned by Murtzuple, and orders issued to form for an

attack upon the crusaders. Attended by his officers, the leader

of the Byzantines ascended the street that wound past the

deserted Hippodrome, and led through the small forum

where the giant statue of Constantine towered. Here they

waited a while, talking together in low voices, until Murt

zuple gave a word of command and the cavalry advanced at

a trot along the wide avenue that ran due east. Soon the

crusaders were far distant, on their right, but the officers

increased their pace, galloping into the enclosure of the

Golden Gate, where the bronze portals swung back at Murt-

zuple s command.

While the Varangians on duty at the gate watched grimly,

the cavalry, with Murtzuple in its midst, swept by them and

out into the country, abandoning the city to its fate.

When the nobles at the Bucoleon heard that Murtzuple

had fled, they gathered behind closed doors, and elected one

Theodore Lascaris emperor. But the fire was approaching

the center of the city, and the Byzantine grandees had no

heart for further fighting. They hastened to their house

holds, and, collecting their families, fled to the southern

harbors on the side away from the Venetian galleys. There

262 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

they entered ships and put out into the Marmora, the north

wind driving them toward the Asiatic shore.

At dawn, when a pall of smoke hung over the city, the

crusaders advanced again but found no one to bar their

way. A procession of bearded priests came out, bearing a

cross, to beg for mercy for the city.

As if by a miracle, Constantinople lay in the crusaders

power. At first the leaders were wary. Keeping the men in

ranks, they occupied the forums and sent mounted patrols

through the streets. Seizing the gates, they let in the Venetian

bands and the crusaders who had been guarding the camp.

It was soon clear that the armed forces of the Byzantines

had disbanded, except in the palaces. And while the leading

barons turned their attention to the palaces, the soldiers and

knights began to loot.

The fire was spreading over a portion of the city as large as

Rome, Venice, and Paris all put together, and the frightened

Byzantines were trying to drag their possessions from its

path. Sword in hand, the crusaders ran into the courtyards

of the nobles palaces, while frightened slaves fled before

them.

They snatched up silk carpets from the floor, and tore

down candelabra. Then they came to the sleeping chambers,

where unimagined luxury met their eyes. Red-faced Norman

peasants and stalwart Burgundians stared open mouthed at

walls covered with damask, at toilet tables of onyx and ebony

inlaid with ivory. While the Byzantine ladies hid their faces,

and eunuchs cowered in the corners, the soldiers tore open

cabinets emptying their bundles of poorer loot, to load

themselves anew with amber bracelets and jeweled combs.

Laughing, they poured the finest perfumes from crystal and

enamel jars. Pricking the robed eunuchs with their daggers,

they bade the stout creatures lead them on to greater treas

ures.

In the long corridors they met other men-at-arms carrying

gold-plated statues on their shoulders. They investigated

organs hidden in the ceilings, and shouted into whispering

galleries that had served the lords of Byzantium who wished

BYZANTIUM FALLS 263

to overhear the talk of guests or servants. And they poured

themselves goblets of heady Greek wines.

Some of them went back when the looting was done, to

seek out the handsomest of the women slaves. They had

never seen girls so fair and sweet smelling as these creatures

from the East dark-haired Persians, with fire in their blood,

and yellow-maned Circassians with tall strong bodies.

Fearfully, the women submitted to these uncouth men.

Elsewhere, Venetian merchant-warriors with more discern

ing taste hurried with their servitors into the galleries of the

Hippodrome where priceless statues of pagan gods stood

the handwork of Greek masters. Prying gold plates from the

wall, and guarding their trove with spear and ax, they

climbed to the courts of the Sacred Palace, to snatch down

tapestries woven with gold thread, and to pick up here an

ivory image, there a tissue of silk heavy with pearls.

Meanwhile a stranger ravaging was going on. Warrior-

priests of the army zealous bishops with their retinues

sought out the oldest of the churches and forced their way

into treasuries where, in gilt reliquaries, were kept the most

famous relics of the world. Long had Christendom heard of

the virtues of the heads of the Apostles, entombed beneath

the basilica by the Bucoleon; throughout the city were gath

ered the most precious tokens of the East the bones and

the wood and the hair that had been conveyed from the

sancta sanctorum of the elder East. And the eager prelates

and chaplains struggled to get into their hands these treasures

beyond price, to carry home in triumph to their own

churches.

The stout bishop of Halberstadt, taking advantage of the

absence of the marquis who was at the Bucoleon, made his

way into the imperial chapel and marched off with all the

relics.

We saw [relates Nicetas, a Byzantine court secretary who wit

nessed the downfall of the city] what shocks the ears to hear. Those

wicked and unfortunate men used on their tables the holy vases

and ornaments of the churches. It is not possible to hear with

patience what they did at the great church they seized the altar

264 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

table, a marvel of rare beauty, and divided it into several pieces

among the soldiers. Into the most secret parts of the churches they

led pack mules and saddled horses, so that dung and blood pro

faned the splendid floors.

Then a woman, weighed down with sin, an ambassadress of all

the furies, servant of evil spirits and priestess of black magic, sat

herself down in the patriarch s seat. Mocking CHRIST, she sang in a

broken voice, whirling around and leaping up and down!

They tried to force an entrance to the mighty Sancta

Sophia, where they had heard the very chains of St. Peter

were kept in a golden casket, and the gifts of the Magi in

alabaster vases, and the ancient crown of Constantine set

with jewels bestowed upon it by the angels when the great

barons checked them, and rode through the smoke-filled

streets to begin the struggle with the fire. Ville-Hardouin

relates what happened then:

The marquis Boniface of Montserrat rode along the shore,

straight toward the Bucoleon; and when he appeared there, the

palace was surrendered, those within being spared their lives.

There were found the greater part of the high-born ladies, who had

fled to the castle and the sister of a king of France, who had been

empress, and the sister of the king of Hungary, who also had been

empress.

^The Blachernae surrendered to Henry, brother of Count Bald

win. There also was found a treasure past reckoning, as in the

Bucoleon. Each of these lords garrisoned his palace with his own

men, and placed a guard over the treasure.

And the other men, scattered through the city, also won a great

deal^The booty was so vast that no one could count it the gold,

the silver, the vessels of precious stones, the satins, the silks, the

garments of vair and ermine.

Each one took up quarters where he pleased, and there was no

lack of places. Great was their joy in the victory that God had given

them, for those who had been poor were now full of riches and

delight. And they did well to praise our Lord, for with no more than

twenty thousand men they had taken captive four hundred thou

sand or more.

Then it was cried through all the army by the marquis Boniface,

who was chief of the army, and by the barons and by the doge of

BYZANTIUM FALLS 265

Venice that all this wealth must be brought and collected together,

as had been promised and pledged, under pain of excommunication.

And three churches were chosen as the places, and put under guard

of the most trustworthy French and Venetians. And then each one

began to bring in his trove and put it with the rest.

Some did it willingly, and some with an ill grace; for greed held

them back, and the greedy began henceforth to keep things back,

and so our Lord began to love them less. Ah, God, how loyally they

had borne themselves until this moment. And now the good suffered

on account of the evil.

The wealth and the booty was collected. The part belonging to

the churches was gathered together and divided between the

French and the Venetians, half and half, as they had agreed. And

do you know how the rest was divided? Two men-at-arms on foot

had the share of one mounted man-at-arms: two mounted men

shared with one knight. And know that not a single man, whatever

his rank or prowess, had more than that unless he stole it.

As to these thieves, the ones who were convicted, great justice

was done upon them, and plenty of them were hung. The count of

St. Paul hung one of his knights, shield upon his neck, who had

kept out something. You can know how great was the treasure,

not counting what was stolen or went to the share of the Venetians,

when it was reckoned at four hundred thousand marks of silver,

and ten thousand horses.

For the moment, the glitter of Constantinople dazzled

the eyes of the adventurers. Each man found himself with

more wealth than he could manage to take care of, and at

their feet lay the Queen City, violated and defenseless. Even

the clergy, exulting at their possession of the rival Greek

sanctuaries, applauded them:

"We say to you that the war is good and just. And if you

mean faithfully to conquer this land and bring it to obedience

to Rome, you will have the indulgence that the pope prom

ised you all those who die here confessed."

And that, Ville-Hardouin says, was a great comfort to the

barons and the pilgrims.

But Dandolo had no illusions. When they met to select

one among them as emperor of the new conquest, he would

not have his name put forward, and he instructed the Vene-

266 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

tians serving in the electoral college to oppose the name of

the marquis of Montserrat who was too politic and too

powerful a man to be acceptable to the Republic. So, when

the electors came to a decision the bishop of Soissons went

out to the waiting crusaders at midnight, and cried:

"Seigneurs, we are agreed, and we name for emperor, in

this hour of Easter-tide, Count Baldwin of Flanders and of

Hainault!"

A straightforward and simple soul. In the ensuing division

of lands among the leaders of the crusade, the Venetians and

Montserrat profited most. Baldwin himself was awarded

little more than half the city of Constantinople; the Vene

tians had the remainder, with the rich Sancta Sophia. Some

how or other Dandolo convinced the barons that two fifths

of the city must be put in possession of the Venetians before

dividing the outlying territory.

Montserrat got northern Greece, and the other lords re

ceived various cities, with the accompanying titles of duke

or seigneur. But these outlying cities were not yet conquered,

and most of them never beheld their new feudal lords. The

Byzantines, preparing to defend Asia Minor, and the Bui-

gars, pressing in from the north, waged war on the victors.

But the astute Venetians gleaned the following harvest

for themselves the district of Epirus in Greece, Acarnania,

and Etolia; on the Adriatic they gained the great city of

Durazzo, and smaller Arta, with the rich Ionian islands to

the south, Corfu, and the three keys to the gulf of Corinth,

Cephalonia, Zante, and Santa Maura. This gave them control

of the Ionian Sea, as well as the Adriatic. They received also,

in southern Greece, the port of Patras and other places. Out

in the Aegean, Naxos, Andros, and Euboea. They took the

peninsula of Gallipoli which controlled the Dardanelles, and

they claimed the trading centers of Rhodosto and Heraclea.

They took Adrianople, north of Constantinople, and Dandolo

squeezed in the island of Crete, by secret treaty with Boni

face.

Many of these points were never . captured, in the long

struggle with the Byzantines. But the Venetians gained more

than even Dandolo could have hoped for, and they laid

BYZANTIUM FALLS 267

thereby the foundations for their great sea empire. 1 For a

while the council of Venice pondered moving the Serene

Republic from the lagoons to Constantinople.

This done, they were more than ready to assist at the

coronation of Baldwin, who was to be, in their scheme of

things, the police power of their new conquests. The soldier

was to fulfill the duties of a soldier. For three weeks the

adventurers prepared robes and regalia for the ceremony,

and one Robert of Clari has left an account of Baldwin s

crowning in the vast Sancta Sophia, under the dome where

mosaic saints looked down through drifting incense with

incurious eyes.

When the day was come, they mounted their horses, and the

bishops and the abbots and all the high barons went to the palace

of Bucoleon. Then they conducted the emperor to the church of

Sancta Sophia, and when they arrived at the church they led the

emperor around it, into a chamber. There they took off his gar

ments and boots, and they shod him anew in footgear of vermilion

satin. Then they clad him, over the other garments, in a rich mantle

all charged with precious stones, and the eagles which were outside

were made of precious stones, and they shone so bright it seemed as

if the mantle were alight.

When he was thus nobly clad, they led him before the altar, the

count Louis carrying his imperial gonfalon, and the count of St.

Paul carrying his sword, and two bishops holding up the arms of

the marquis who carried the crown.

And the barons were all richly clad, for there was neither French

man nor Venetian who had not a robe of satin or silk. And when

the emperor went before the altar, he kneeled, and they lifted the

mantle from him.

When he was anointed, they put back the mantle on his shoul

ders. Two bishops held the crown upon the altar, then all the bish

ops went and took the crown and blessed it and made the sign of

the cross upon it and put it on his head. When they had crowned

him, they seated him upon a high chair, and he was there all the

Visitors to Venice will recall the trophies of this conquest, displayed by the

city the bronze horses atop St. Mark s, the group of porphyry kings at the corner

of the church, and the great paintings in the Ducal Palace, showing the storming

of Constantinople and the crowning of Baldwin by the hand of the doge, instead of

by the bishops who actually performed the ceremony.

268 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

time Mass was sung, holding in his hand the scepter and in the

other hand an apple of gold with a little cross atop it.

And then they led him out, to a white horse, and brought him

back to his palace of the Bucoleon, seating him in the chair of

Constantine. The tables were placed, and the emperor ate, and all

the barons with him, in the palace. When he had eaten, the barons

went away to their dwellings and the emperor remained alone in his

palace.

Apart from the people of the West, the young Baldwin

with his wife Marie sat on the throne of the East. But he was

never emperor in more than name. Like his namesake, the

first Baldwin who ruled Jerusalem, he spent his days in the

saddle, riding from one menaced point of his frontier to

another, with the Byzantines clutching at his back, and

his lords spending their lives in vain attempts to conquer the

fiefs he had bestowed upon them. The Roman clergy came

in and tried to reconcile the Byzantine priesthood to the

new order, but they could not. The patriarchs of Constan

tinople abandoned their churches rather than submit. And

the spoil taken from the half-desolate city was soon spent.

Hundreds of the adventurers went off to Syria, to redeem

their vows, and Baldwin himself died in battle against the

tsar of the Bulgars.

For two generations the barons of the West dwelt in the

half-deserted palaces along the Bosphorus, but their venture

had ceased to be a crusade. It became a feudal state, a colony

of the West, and in the end Constantinople drove them forth

again.

So, for the first time, by the treachery of the Venetians, a crusade

had been turned aside from Jerusalem. The great crusade-power had

been bridled and driven to other work.

XXXVI

THE MASTER OF THE WORLD

(EANWHILE a greater than Dandolo had passed judg

ment on the crusaders who turned adventurers. The

pope, Innocent III, had forbidden the enterprise

and then had heard that the fleet had gone against Con

stantinople; months later he was informed of the capture of

the city and the flight of the Byzantines.

Not until then did he display his anger and excommunicate

the Venetians. Papal authority had been slighted, and Inno

cent would never allow that to go unpunished. Yet, having

drawn the sword of retribution, he sheathed it. Verily, he

exclaimed, this conquest had been God s will, because no

man had intended it. He lifted the sentence of excommunica

tion, and gave amiable assent to Baldwin and his paladins

to remain in Constantinople. He even sent his legates thither,

with reinforcements of knights.

The crusaders had won the Byzantine empire for Rome.

A void in his map had been filled.

And no Caesar of Rome ever welcomed a new conquest

more eagerly. Innocent was establishing the papal authority

over far frontiers. He had gathered the bishops of Iceland

269

270 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

into his fold, and now his legate, the cardinal Pelagius, was

sent to Constantinople to force the submission of the Greek

clergy. As in the days of the Caesars, the East was united

again to the West.

By sheer will power and astute diplomacy, Innocent held

imperial power almost within his grasp. "We are estab

lished," he said, "by God above peoples and realms."

His Curia, his privy council, wrestled under his guidance

with the problems of consolidating the new realms. Kings

visited Rome as vassals. One such visitor, the monarch of

Aragon, swore allegiance in the basilica of St. Peter, placing

his scepter and diadem on the marble altar over the tomb:

"I confess with my heart and with my mouth that the

pontiff of Rome, successor to St. Peter, acts in the place of

Him who governs the realms of the earth, and who can con

fer the realms upon whomsoever seemeth good to Him.

"I, Peter, by the grace of God, king of Aragon, count of

Barcelona, and lord of Montpellier . . . offer my kingdom to

thee, admirable father and lord, sovereign pontiff Innocent

and . . . through thee to the most sacred Church of Rome.

And I make my kingdom tributary to Rome at two hundred

and fifty pieces of gold, to be paid by my treasurer every year

to the Apostolic See of Rome/

And the more powerful princes felt Innocent s hand. When

Philip-Augustus of France seized Normandy and the French

lands of the English king, Innocent cast the weight of his

influence with the weak John. But when John interfered with

Church property, the papal sword gleamed at once England

was laid under interdict in 1208, and the king himself ex

communicated the following year. In the end John became

the vassal of the pope at a tribute of one thousand pounds

a year. This roused the barons of England against their

vacillating monarch, and they forced the Magna Carta upon

John.

In the German realm, where Philip of Swabia and Otto of

Brunswick waged their long feud, Innocent followed a differ

ent policy, supporting the weaker of the twain until the

murder of Philip left Otto alone in the field and the powerful

German marched down to the Tiber to be crowned where-

THE MASTER OF THE WORLD 271

upon Innocent excommunicated him. With the exception

of the astute Philip-Augustus and the dour Otto, the kings

of Christendom were now tributary to the See of Rome.

And now, four years after the capture of Constantinople,

there came a change in Innocent s conception of the crusades*

At first he had thrown himself into the undertaking with

out hesitation Jerusalem must be redeemed. The popular

cry was still insistent for the liberation of the Holy Land.

But in the last few years the great pope had found that the

crusaders served his own more immediate needs. He had

allowed Walter of Brienne with a following of French knights

to aid him with their swords in Italy; he had kept the princes

of Hungary back from the crusade, to act as a check on

Philip of Swabia, and, without his planning it, Baldwin and

the Venetians had won Constantinople for him.

At the same time enormous prestige had surrounded the

papacy, from its leadership in the crusading movement.

Money flowed in continuously, and no accounting was asked

of it; the military orders of the Hospital and Temple thrived

upon the impetus of the war and they were vassals of the

pope. Moreover, the masses of crusaders taking their vows

to serve the Church had put themselves beyond the authority

of their feudal lords, the princes of Europe. So the interest

of the papacy was served by increasing the numbers and

the privileges accorded to the crusaders, and the authority

of the kings was weakened accordingly.

In these years the papal officials blossomed forth in true

worldly splendor, and Innocent s court became almost im

perial in its ceremonial and dignity.

Innocent may have dreaded disaster if a great movement

toward Jerusalem should fail; but almost beyond doubt, he

saw where his utmost advantage lay and seized upon it.

He kept the crusaders at home and used them for the needs

of the papacy. He granted them the same privileges that had

been accorded the crusaders faring to Jerusalem. And his

first blow was against the heretics.

In the south of France men lived pleasantly. They had

their orchards and fertile fields, and a warm sun above them.

272 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Outside the path of the worst feudal wars, and sheltered by

the bulwark of the Pyrenees, they kept to their homes con

tentedly enough. In their halls the troubadours sang, and

assembled courts of love around the fairest of the ladies.

They were Provencals and Gascons, with a deal of Moorish

blood in them, and they had learned much from the Moslems.

From their ancestors they had inherited a vague belief in

good and evil as the only two vital forces existing upon the

earth and affecting them.

Not all of them believed this, but the groups who did were

slowly forming a religion of their own. In their thoughts

they went back to the beginning of things, when Evangelists

had walked the earth, and the great edifice of the Church

had not been built. Undoubtedly they had listened to the

Arabic philosophers.

They were known as Cathars the pure. Like the first

hermits of Asia, they sought cleanliness from the lusts of the

body, living like ascetics, some of them refusing to eat meat,

or to touch women. Their real belief remains shadowy and

unknowable, because the Cathars and their teachings were

all destroyed, and the traces they left were obscured by their

oppressors.

A kindred sect, around Montpellier, was aroused against

the luxury-loving and worldly clergy of the Roman Church.

They denied the very foundations upon which the medieval

Church had been built the sacraments and the cult of

saints. Moreover, they preached their faith.

Some of their seigneurs became converts to the new belief

the count of Foix, the viscount of Beam, and finally

Raymond VI, count of Toulouse, descendant of the Raymond

who had been one of the leaders of the first crusade. Through

the drowsy squares of the villages and the halls of the nobility

the new faith spread.

In the eyes of the prelates of the Church, unbelief was

criminal, and open heresy denial of the doctrines of the

Church was the uttermost sin. A heretic became a rebel.

Better that he should be punished, even by torments, than

that he should exist like a mad, unreasoning dog, dangerous

to himself and society as a whole so the prelates argued.

THE MASTER OF THE WORLD 273

But the first measures taken against the Cathars were

lenient. A bishop and a monk, sent to investigate the con

tamination in the southland, saw too clearly the failings of

the orthodox clergy there and concluded that this was a case

for an antidote rather than a purge. Stripping themselves

of worldly goods, they went barefoot among the people to

show by their example that the servants of the Church were

capable of the sacrifices of the Cathars. The monk, zealous

and untiring, became known throughout Christendom there

after as St. Dominic.

What effect their labors had upon the Cathars is not clear;

but they antagonized the regular clergy who saw in their

sacrifices an attempt to discredit themselves. As a remedy

the higher prelates asked for more than a purge; they cried

for an operation that should sever the cancer of heresy. It

was better, they said, to burn away the cancer than to allow

the whole body to become affected. One of them, in the year

1206, demanded of the papal legate that he excommunicate

Raymond of Toulouse, and the following year this was done.

Thereupon a hot-headed esquire of the count assassinated

the legate of Rome. Word of the murder was carried to

Innocent.

When the pope learned that his legate had been killed, he put his

hand to his throat and in his mind he called upon the good Saint

Peter. And when he had finished his prayer, he put out the flame

of the candle beside him. At that moment the abbot of the Citeaux

was near him, with master Milon and a dozen cardinals. They sat

in a circle, and in that circle was taken the resolution by which so

many men lost their lives and so many women were stripped of

their garments.

Innocent called for a crusade against the heretics. They had

rebelled against the authority of the Church, they should be

suppressed by the soldiery of the Church. Indulgence from

sin was offered those who volunteered, and even the mer

chants and money lenders of the North hastened to donate

funds for which they were richly repaid with cloth and

wine and grain gathered from the plundered fields of the

South, The crusaders were the French neighbors of the

274 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Languedoc, the affected region. They wore bands of cloth-

of-silver about their chests, embroidered with gold crosses,

and they embarked upon the enterprise as if it were a huge

border raid, with unlimited liberty to plunder, and ecclesias

tical sanction for their efforts.

In vain Raymond of Toulouse protested that he had had

no hand in the murder. The army of invasion was formed

under such redoubtable and merciless spirits as Simon of

Montfort, and it moved south with bands of clerics who sang

Veni Creator. It made no distinction between Cathars and

others.

At Bezieres, it stormed the town, and in the Church of the

Madeleine, where women and children had taken refuge,

seven thousand were slain. It divided, quartering over the

countryside, at times fighting actual battles against the

desperate knights of the South, and at times devastating

everything with sword and fire. Captured knights were cruci

fied on the olive trees, or dragged at horses tails. The path

of the army became marked by pyres of human bodies, smok

ing and blackened heaps, and wells were choked by corpses.

Under the clashing of swords and the pounding of hoofs

the gay songs of the troubadours and the chanting of the

poets were stifled into silence.

Peter, king of Aragon, took the field against De Montfort s

crusaders, with the lords of Languedoc, but he was defeated

and routed and slain. This was in 1213 the war had lasted

for four years, and the ravaging continued long afterward.

Meanwhile Innocent had sanctioned two other enterprises

as crusades. In the far northeast the Teutonic Knights were

sent among the pagan Prussians to convert them sword in

hand. 1 And in Spain itself knights were summoned to a

crusade against the remaining Moslems from which they

emerged victorious after driving the men of Islam south to

the Granada region by the sea.

And to do away with the troublesome John Lackland in

England, the pope prepared for a crusade against the English

enterprise caused the Teutonic order to withdraw its headquarters from

Palestine to eastern Europe, and the order took little part in events in the Holy

JLand thereafter except to support its emperor Frederick II.

THE MASTER OF THE WORLD 275

a move that Philip-Augustus embraced with eagerness.

He had taken no part in the ravaging of Languedoc, but he

welcomed an excuse for the invasion of England.

From the years 1206 to 1213 Innocent availed himself of

the crusade-power to further his own policy from Con

stantinople to Granada. For the first time, in the south of

France, he had drawn the papal sword to exterminate here

tics. But it was not to be the last time. For more than five

bloodstained centuries other popes and monarchs would

follow his example.

So, for the first time, crusades were turned, by Innocent 9 s will,

against Europeans at home. The crusade-power had been harnessed to

papal ambition.

XXXVII

INNOCENT S CALL TO ARMS

5N THESE years Innocent had surrounded the Church of

Rome with terror. In such a short space of time he had

wrought miracles within the churches as well. 1 No man

of his century revealed such unbounded ambition or appalling

will power. But he had not been able to put his own house in

order. At his doorstep the unruly mobs of Rome still carried

on their feuds, the Orsini pausing now and then to gather

together against the pope who had in him the blood of the

antagonistic Conti. They fortified themselves anew in their

castles, making the streets a battleground when it pleased

them to do so, and when the pope built a tower of his own,

they forced him to flee the city.

And north of the city the Lombard communes the sturd

ily independent town-republics formed a bulwark against

With the internal changes created by Innocent, we are not concerned. He under

took administrative work that was fairly miraculous for that age, and the transac

tions of his councils affected history for generations. In his time transubstantiation

was first pronounced, and trial by ordeal forbidden. The genius of this great pope

was many-sided, and the wisest of the historians do not find it easy to strike the

total of his achievements, or his motives. We are concerned here only with his acts

affecting the crusades.

276

INNOCENT S CALL TO ARMS 277

the growing imperium of the papacy. Like the later Caesars

of elder Rome, Innocent advanced his frontiers but could

not be master in his imperial city.

He had to face as well a silent rebellion in the Church itself.

The growing worldliness of his prelates had estranged more

ardent and youthful spirits. Monks began to appear in the

countryside without the sanction of their superiors. Barefoot,

and clad in ragged habits, they begged their way and gave

their strength to the harsh, hard work of relieving common

suffering. They were high spirited, ready to chant a psalm

or wield a manure fork, or walk with the vagabonds of the

roads. They slept in ditches or haystacks and cared not a jot

for an idle thing like dignity. One of their leaders was the

man of Assisi, who laughed with the children and tended

lepers and lived in reality with the birds and the beasts. He

had not been dead two years before they called him St*

Francis.

His fellow wanderers were known as Franciscans, or some

times as gray friars. The people who were served by them

liked them better than the clerics and spoke of them as

"jongleurs of Christ." The begging friars grew in numbers,

and by their poverty they protested against the growing

wealth of the clerics who served the churches, not the people.

At this time, in the Easter season of the year 1212, the people

of Christendom were amazed by a strange happening. Down

from the mountains above Italy came throngs of children

marching with little wooden crosses, and singing hymns in

their high voices. When the good people asked them whither

they were going, they answered, "To God."

They had started out among the shepherd families of the

Vendome country, and others had joined them as they

marched. They were going down to the sea, to find a way to

the Holy Land to aid the Seigneur Christ. They were going

to recover the Holy City, and after that there would be

peace.

The children did not know just how they would do that,

but thousands of them were marching together of their own

will. And the people who saw them believed that this was

surely a miracle and a portent.

278 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

It seemed evident to the onlookers that the Lord was about

to do some great and new thing through these innocent souls

gathered together of their own accord. No one tried to stay

their path, and they emerged from the mountains, seeking

the roads to the Italian cities where, somehow, they hoped

to cross the sea.

With their crosses and staves and scrips they wandered

around the harbors. No path opened for them through the

waters, so that they could walk dry shod to the Holy Land,

They had no money and no protectors. And among them

came human wolves, making profit out of their misery, fol

lowing the fairer girls about.

At one city indeed ships were offered them without pay

ment, and the masters of the ships, when the children had

embarked joyfully, sailed to Moslem ports, selling the youths

and girls as slaves in the markets of Kairuwan and Alexan

dria. Another ship went down with the children near an island

of the sea.

When Innocent heard of the matter, he did not interfere,

but said, "The very children shame us, because they hasten

to gain the Holy Land, while we hang back/*

But the children who still were left alive had lost hope.

Wearily, without their crosses and songs, they drifted back

from the coast. In small groups, they tried to make their

way home again over the mountains, while the good people

who had aided them onward toward a miracle mocked them,

pointing scornful fingers at the girls who had been ravished,

saying that they had been about the devil s work, instead

of the Lord s.

And thus the march of the children came to its end. They

had gone forth spontaneously, driven out by hardships and

suffering at home, seeking not the distant city in Palestine

but that other Jerusalem that lies beyond all the seas of the

earth.

Innocent built a monument on the island where their ship

had gone down.

Whatever he thought about the lost crusade of the chil

dren, he was ready now for the crowning achievement of

his papacy. He ceased planning the European crusades, and

INNOCENT S CALL TO ARMS 279

prepared for a great crusade to liberate Jerusalem, And this

time there was no mistaking his purpose the conquest of

Jerusalem must be the vindication of his rule.

He no longer had an enemy to deal with at home Otto

having been overthrown by Philip-Augustus. He had just

seen a stripling crowned sovereign of the Holy Roman

Empire Frederick of Hohenstaufen, son of Henry VI, whose

mother Constance had yielded both the regency of Sicily

and the youthful Frederick to the guardianship of the pope.

And, of his own accord although Innocent may have in

clined him to it Frederick took the cross in the grotto

of Charlemagne at Aix-la-Chapelle, after his coronation. So

Innocent believed the long strife between empire and papacy

at an end, and the boy-emperor ready for the crusade.

In November, 1215, the great council assembled at the

Lateran, with bishops, abbots, and priors journeying thither

from the corners of Christendom. The patriarchs of Jerusa

lem and Constantinople were there, and all the splendor of

the majestic court surrounded Innocent as he sat enthroned

above the multitude. And he preached to them with all

his eloquence, saying that now was the time to make the

final passage and that he himself would go with them in spirit.

The new crusade was decreed for the first of June, 1217. To

aid it, the clergy would contribute one twentieth of their

incomes each year for three years, and the pope and cardinals

one tenth. For four years the Truce of God would be pro

claimed in Europe, and the Italian republics were to cease

trade with the Moslems.

Innocent felt assured of victory now. But before the prep

arations were more than begun, he died.

Innocent had been the greatest of the medieval popes.

When he assumed the tiara, the way to Jerusalem lay open,

with the forces of Christendom well prepared to venture upon

the road to the Sepulcher. Yet during the seventeen years of

his pontificate it would be more just to say his reign not a

single soldier from Europe landed on the Syrian coast to go to

Jerusalem.

In that time the Templars on the coast and King Amalric

28o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

from Cyprus made a raid or two on their own account, noth

ing more. Amalric s weakness in men made him welcome a

long truce with the ageing Al Adil, now sultan of Cairo.

The fragments of crusaders who detached themselves from

the Constantinople venture found Amalric unable to lead

them to war because of this truce. Left to their own devices,

they scattered some of them actually taking opposite sides

in a feudal conflict going on between the Armenian king and

the prince of Antioch.

The Flemish fleet arrived in due course, and found nothing

to do, although its leader managed to quarrel with Amalric

in a curious way. The lord of the Flemings was a certain John

de Nesle, and at the port of Marseille he had encountered

one of the waifs of the Acre crusade the fair and almost for

gotten Byzantine princess who had been carried off from

Cyprus by Richard of England and who had returned to

France with Berengaria. De Nesle married her, and on land

ing at Cyprus he claimed the sovereignty of the island by

virtue of this marriage with the exiled princess. The veteran

lord of Outremer gazed in astonishment at the uncouth

seaman from Flanders, and exclaimed, "Who is this wander

ing dog? Bid him begone swiftly, or he will be cast out!"

So these unhappy crusaders in search of a crusade had to

find their way home again as best they could even as the

waifs of the children s march had to retrace their steps with

out their songs and wooden crosses.

But the Constantinople venture had another effect, quite

natural and yet unexpected. When it was known along the

Syrian frontier that the great Byzantine city had fallen to the

French, the knights and adventurers began to turn their

eyes longingly to the north. They heard that castles and

whole provinces were being given away around Constan

tinople, and in Greece. Uncounted riches lay there, waiting

to be grasped, and the pope had promised the same indul

gence for crusaders to Constantinople as to the Holy Land.

Hundreds of the crusaders left the Syrian coast to seek the

golden rainbow hanging over the Queen City.

Meanwhile the Venetians had thrown off the mask of the

crusade. Spurred on by the rivalry of Genoa and Pisa, they

INNOCENT S CALL TO ARMS 281

were sweeping up the coasts of Greece, colonizing and fortify

ing Crete. Innocent might have fared better in his attempt to

reconcile the Greek clergy to Latin rule, if the Venetians

had not been so greedy in despoiling the Greek churches.

Not content with that, the Republic of the Lagoons was

making treaties with the Seljuk sultans in Asia Minor and

with Al Adil in Cairo. 1

So vastly profitable was the Asia trade becoming that the

interest of the Venetians now lay in preventing crusades,

which disturbed their trade. In this, they were directly op

posed to the papacy, which needed the crusades. In the tug-

of-war that followed, the Venetians held their own. Innocent

forbade all trade with the Moslems, but when the Venetians

sent an embassy to protest, he limited his ban to materials

of war iron, oakum, pitch, rope, weapons, and ships.

Innocent had changed the whole character of the crusades,

by launching them against the enemies of the papacy at

home. At the same time, he had so extended the temporal

rule of the papacy that it leaned more and more upon the

support of the crusading movement. During all his pontifi

cate he had sounded the clarions of the holy war, in spite

of the resulting slaughter. A hundred and twenty years ago,

Urban II had welcomed the first crusade, for the spiritual

leadership it brought him. Innocent made use of it as a means

to temporal dominion. He bequeathed it to the papacy as

a fixed policy. And the results of this policy, slow in mak

ing themselves felt, were as inevitable as the darkness that

follows sunset.

When he died, the papacy, deprived of his brilliant leader

ship, had greater need than ever of the prestige of the con

flict. Already Innocent s far-flung imperium was cracking

and crumbling in places the Armenians were throwing off

*A Christian ^chronicler relates: "The brother of Saladin sent to the doge of

Venice great gifts, and asked security and friendship, and that the Venetians do all

they could to turn the Christians aside from coming into Egypt. He gave them a

franchise at the port of Alexandria, and great treasure." ^

Al Adil s privileges granting rights of trade at Alexandria to the Venetians have

recently been found in the archives of Venice.

Innocent s attempt to limit the trade of the Venetians with the Moslems was

the first historical instance of contraband of war.

282 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

allegiance to Rome, the Byzantines were making head against

the Latin invasion of Constantinople, and the French were

still intent upon the graveyard of the Languedoc.

So Innocent s successors, whatever their own convictions

might be, were committed to preaching the crusade. They

dared not refrain.

In July, 1216, the cardinal Cencio Savelli, an old and peace-

loving man, assumed the tiara as Innocent s successor. That

same day he announced that he would carry on Innocent s

plans, and sent out letters summoning the young German

emperor Frederick II to the war, with the king of Jerusalem

and the French emperor of Constantinople, Frederick asked

for delay, saying that his own lands were too unsettled to

leave, but Andrew II, king of Hungary, whose army had

been held back until then by Innocent, was the first to take

the cross.

Aroused by the preachers of the crusade, men thronged

from all the corners of Europe Flemings, Scandinavians,

and Austrians to join the new army of the cross. This time

they felt assured they would take Jerusalem. But the road

led them to a different place.

XXXVIII

THE ROAD TO CAIRO

E path of the new crusade 1 led to Cairo, and to the

great test of strength of the years 1218-1221, when the

armed power of the West was locked in a clinch with

the armies of the East. And for the first time in nearly forty

years the crusaders held victory within their grasp.

It is best to look at this battle for it was an almost con

tinuous battle as a whole, rather than at the men who

fought in it or the machinations that went on behind the

scenes. In this way we can see the battlefield more clearly,

and the movements of each side for strategy played its part

here. The Crusade of Cairo, as it might be called, was the

climax of the conflict begun by Saladin thirty-six years be

fore. It was the ending of an old phase, and the forerunner

of a new. As Innocent s rule had foreshadowed a change in

the character of the crusades, this battle of Cairo marked a

change in the military conflict between Moslem and Chris

tian.

ijhe first Egyptian crusade, often called the fifth. The great Acre crusade of

1189-1192 is commonly called the third crusade, and the Constantinople venture of

1200-1204 the fourth.

283

284 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Fittingly enough, Al Adil, who had been Saladin s chief aid

years before, was now the leader of the Moslem side. Al Adil

more than seventy years of age, had lost none of his cunning.

He could still mount a horse and ride with his mamluks. It

was the irony of fate that this man who had always craved

peace should end his days in the stress of battle, with tidings

of calamity ringing in his ears.

The scene. Cairo lay a little more than a hundred miles

from the sea. Just below Cairo the wide Nile branched out

into a dozen channels which extended like the sticks of a fan

to the sea. One of the largest channels lay on the extreme

west and ended in the port of Alexandria, while the largest

eastern channel led to the port of Damietta. In this great

triangle between the arms of the Nile, known as the delta of

the Nile, the land lay flat and low and immensely fertile.

Irrigation cross-ditches cut it up into a checkerboard of fields

covered with crops. Every corner of this rich delta was filled

with peasants at work, with gray buffaloes and horses. Boats

of all kinds passed along the channels, their high lateen yards

towering over the flat roofs of the mud-walled villages. When

the Nile rose, the mud dikes on either side the canals were

strengthened to prevent the flooding of the land. Along the

tops of these dikes ran paths and roads over which moved

the two-wheeled carts of the natives. These dikes and these

roads were to prove important to the crusaders.

Damietta was thought by the Moslems to be impregnable,

because it was surrounded by a double wall of brick rising

from a deep moat, and because the back of the city, toward

the east, was guarded by a wide, shallow lake, while the front

rested upon the bank of the Nile. Opposite the city a huge

stone tower stood in the middle of the river, with chains

running from it to either bank. This Tower of the Chain

barred enemy ships from ascending the river.

The Moslem strength. A garrison of some twenty thousand

held Damietta, while the sultan at Cairo could assemble an

equal number of men in a few weeks. Al Adil had his standing

army of mamluks, veteran cavalry always under arms. Given

a month or two, he could count upon the Damascus army,

and at times upon the Turks of northern Syria. There were

THE ROAD TO CAIRO 285

also the usual Arab clans and Sudanis, useful in victory but

worthless in defeat, and only lightly armed. So, in a month s

time, he might assemble fifty thousand cavalry and a cloud

of irregulars.

The prelude of 1217. Instead of striking direct at Cairo,

the first crusaders to reach Acre made forays into the Holy

Land, gleaning harvests and moving toward Sidon on the

coast and the Galilee region. They were not strong enough to

risk battle with Al Adil s army when it came up, and they re

tired to spend the winter at Acre and on the island of Cyprus

that now served as the granary for the crusades.

The Christian strength. By May, 1218, the first wave of the

crusaders had reached the scene, some thirty thousand in all.

In quality they were excellent Hungarians, and giant

Scandinavians, Austrian ax wielders, and steady Hollanders.

These were nearly all infantry, but by now the infantry was

well protected by armor and accustomed to discipline. It

had more crossbows than in the Acre crusade and was cap

able of standing against the charges of the Moslems. More

over, it had new and more powerful siege engines. To these

newcomers were joined the veteran contingents of Templars

and Hospitalers, and the knights of Syria and Cyprus under

the king of Jerusalem. These, although few in number, were

mounted and well armed and accustomed to facing Moslem

tactics. The fleets serving as transports were Genoese with

some Pisan galleys the crews adept at sea warfare.

The plan. The leaders of the crusaders intended to land on

the delta of the Nile and storm Damietta, which was within

two or three days sail of either Cyprus or Acre. With the

port of Damietta in their hands they meant to wait for fur

ther contingents from Europe and then advance up that

branch of the Nile the fleet and the army moving together

to Cairo. If they could take this city, they felt that they

could hold it because the fleet would control the river. Even

if they did not manage to sek$ all the delta, they could

destroy Cairo, the citadel of Moslem power in the Near East,

and retire to Damietta.

The leaders. The duke of Austria, the Hungarian counts,

and the masters of the military orders placed themselves

286 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

under the command of John of Brienne, king of Jerusalem,

He was the son of the Brienne who died at Acre, and the

brother of Walter who had been held back in Italy to serve

Innocent. Upon his accession to the throne of Godfrey and

Baldwin there hangs a tale.

At the death of Amalric of Jerusalem and Cyprus there

had been no male heir to the crown of Jerusalem, and the

high court of the barons had decided that Marie of Mont-

serrat should be the heiress of the kingdom. But who was to

be her husband? The barons appealed to Philip-Augustus of

France to name one of his nobles to become king of Jerusalem.

They expected Philip to choose such a man as the count of

Champagne. Instead, Philip named an obscure knight, John

of Brienne, who lacked both wealth and rank, and who was

not even young.

Brienne considered the matter, and borrowed 40,000

crowns from the pope, on security of his lands, and a similar

amount from Philip on nothing at all; he assembled a hundred

knights and set sail for his future court, where the disconso

late barons attended in all ceremony his wedding to Marie.

"He was already old," a chronicler relates, "and poorly

endowed, but a true man of war, and wise."

A curious figure, this obscure and plain gentleman-

soldier. In him there appeared a certain obstinate determina

tion and a clear sense of honor that men of higher birth often

lacked. Whatever his failings as king, he proved himself one

of the ablest soldiers who ever wore the cross.

In May, 1218, Brienne and his army debarked on the coast

across the river from Damietta. They formed their camp

opposite the city and sent the Genoese galleys against the

Tower of the Chain that barred the channel. With Greek

fire and stones from the engines, the garrison of the tower

beat off the ships, disabling them.

Meanwhile Al Adil s army of cavalry moved down from

Cairo and camped on the Damietta side of the river. The

engineers of the crusaders went to work methodically. The

great tower being too far from the shore to reach by stone

casters, they built a floating fortress upon two dismantled

THE ROAD TO CAIRO 287

galleys, bound together by joists. It was really a floating

castle, sheathed with copper, and with engines on the sum

mit. A drawbridge could be lowered from an upper floor, and

three hundred men could take shelter in it.

The floating castle, towed forward by small galleys, took

the Moslems by surprise. They managed to prevent the

lowering of the drawbridge by covering the face of the cru

saders machine with blasts of flame. But two soldiers, driving

back the Moslems with thrusts of long lances, leaped from

the top upon the rampart of the Tower of the Chain. One of

them, a Fleming armed with an iron flail, beat a path through

the Arabs to the yellow banner of the sultan and cast it down

while the knights swarmed after him. The defenders dropped

into the lower level of the tower, but soon had to surrender.

The tidings of the capture of the Tower of the Chain were

carried to Al Adil at Cairo. The old sultan, already ill and

worn out with the campaigning of the last year, was stricken

by the misfortune and did not regain his strength. When he

died, no one but his personal attendants and his son were

informed, and Al Adil s body was embalmed and put into a

closed litter while his guards were summoned and his physi

cian announced that the sultan would journey to Damascus

to recover his health. By the time his death was known, his

son Al Kamil already in active command of the cavalry

at Damietta was in possession of the palace. Even after

his death, Al Adil had served the cause of Islam.

Al Kamil took the reins of authority at once. He was a

skillful leader, already a man of mature years, as astute as

his father had been. But some of the Ayoubite amirs con

spired against him, and for a space he had to leave the camp.

During this disorder the crusaders crossed the river and be

sieged Damietta on all sides.

Returning, Al Kamil threw a dike across the channel,

above the city. The Genoese galleys broke through this bar

rier, but the resourceful sultan sank some of his own galleys,

weighted down with stone, in the channel above the ruined

dike, and this time the crusaders were fairly blocked.

In the brief winter rains Al Kamil, deprived of part of his

army, could not risk battle against the invaders. And the

288 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

crusaders managed to clear another channel, around the

sunken galleys, so that their ships were able to pass up

the river at will and to pen the Moslems to the right bank.

They also built a bridge of boats across the river at Damietta.

So the spring of 1219 found the crusaders in trenches

around the beleagured city, cutting off all food and reinforce

ment from the Moslems within the walls. At the same time

fresh forces of French and English crusaders joined the siege,

bringing with them Cardinal Pelagius, the papal legate, and

numbers of priests and friars, with regiments of Lombard

soldiery.

Matters so far had been pretty much of a draw while the

crusaders had taken the Tower of the Chain, the city itself

had held out much longer than they expected. Some of the

contingents became war-weary and were on the point of

withdrawing, when the sultan s fleet, that had been held up

the river near Cairo, came down to try to clear the Christian

galleys from the river. The Genoese had all the best of this

encounter, and the Moslems retired up the river again.

Meanwhile the spirit of the crusader had been heartened by

the presence of the gray friar, Francis of Assisi, and his com

panions, and by the exhortations of Pelagius. The cardinal-

legate had wielded the lash of authority before now at Con

stantinople, and he grasped at the reins of command here.

Under his urgency attacks were made through the summer,

in vain. While Pelagius dominated the council, the gentle

friar of Assisi went about among the tents, sharing the tasks

of the soldiers, and tending the sick.

But by autumn the Moslem garrison was in the last throes

of starvation. In a storm, during the night of November

fourth, the crusaders made a surprise attack. They swarmed

up the ladders in silence and seized a tower. Some Templars

fought their way down to a postern gate, broke it down with

their axes and let in their comrades who were waiting outside

the wall.

Al Kamil, who was camped not far away, could do nothing

to aid the city because the flooded canals the Nile being

then at its height prevented him from moving forward.

The next day Damietta fell to the crusaders, with all the

THE ROAD TO CAIRO 289

wealth of its bazaars. Its cathedral mosque was converted

into a church by the zealous Pelagius, and enthusiasm ran

high among the Christians.

The Moslems, who had thought Damietta impregnable,

were thoroughly disheartened. Some of them fled back to

Cairo, crying that the crusaders were on the way to the city,

and for a while Al Kamil and his officers could do nothing

with the panic-stricken multitudes.

Pelagius urged an immediate advance on Cairo, on the

heels of the retiring Moslems an obvious move, tempting

enough to a layman. It would have been a decisive move,

without doubt, if the army could have been transported

intact to the gates of Cairo at once. But the crusaders had

suffered during the siege, and more than a hundred miles of

bottom land crisscrossed by flooded ditches and canals lay

between them and the city.

John of Brienne and the experienced soldiers advised first

putting Damietta in condition to defend, fortifying the outer

camp, resting the men, and waiting until the flood subsided,

when Frederick, the German emperor, had promised to

appear in Egypt. Only after a battle of wills did he gain the

cardinal s consent to this, and Pelagius did not forgive

him the struggle.

XXXIX

MANSURA

they waited, the crusaders stormed the fortress of

Tanis in the center of the near-by lake. But Freder

ick did not appear, although his departure for Egypt

was announced from time to time. And the crusaders did not

know that he had no intention of coming. After the summer

of 1220 John and the Syrian barons withdrew for a time to

Acre to attend to affairs there, leaving Pelagius in charge at

Damietta.

Meanwhile two very different things had happened else

where. Al Kamil s brother, the sultan of Damascus, fearing

that the crusaders would turn against Jerusalem after taking

Damietta, demolished the walls of the Holy City, except

for the Haram sanctuary and the Tower of David so making

Jerusalem an open city that could not be defended until it

was walled in again.

And far in the east began an upheaval that struck terror

into the heart of Islam, and turned all the eyes of the Mos

lems thither. For the present the crusaders knew nothing

about this.

So the remainder of 1220 passed, with the crusaders extend-

290

MANSURA 291

ing the Damietta lines and Al Kamil rebuilding his army at

Cairo* What the king of Jerusalem and the sultan might

have done next is uncertain. But Pelagius took the reins into

his hand.

Early in the summer of 1221 Louis, duke of Bavaria, landed

on the delta with a strong force, and Herman of Salza,

grand master of the Teutonic Knights, appeared with 500

swords and tidings that his lord, the emperor Frederick,

would sail for Egypt immediately. Whereupon Pelagius

ordered an advance upon Cairo on his own account.

Brienne and the Syrian lords heard of the decision and

hastened back to the Egyptian front. They opposed the ad

vance, until Frederick should arrive, knowing that Al Kamil

now had with him the armies of Damascus, Hamah, and

Baalbek the Moslems outnumbered the Christians three to

two. But the cardinal was supported by the Italian contin

gents and the newly arrived Germans. The march up the

Damietta branch of the Nile was begun, and King John

and his lords joined it, with their men. In all, the army

numbered about 1,000 knights, 5,000 cavalry, and 40,000

foot.

Whereupon Al Kamil did something quite unexpected;

he offered terms of peace. He had the upheaval in the east to

ward against, and the last thing he wanted now was a long

siege of Cairo. Moreover, the crusaders were so fortified in

Damietta that it would be a tremendous task to get them

out of there. So, if they would retire from Egypt and give up

Damietta, he offered them their ultimate objective, Jeru

salem.

With Jerusalem, he agreed to yield to them the surround

ing country, with Bethlehem and Nazareth and the inter

vening shore as far south as Ascalon, and the Galilee region

all the conquests of Saladin from the Jordan to the sea.

The offer came after the crusaders had gained a minor

success and were approaching the camp of the sultan s

army at Mansura, where the Nile branched again. It took

them by surprise, and the leaders debated it anxiously.

They soon divided into two parties, with King John, the

French seigneurs, the barons of the Syrian coast, and the

29 2 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

masters of the Temple and the Hospital urging acceptance

of the sultan s terms.

By those terms they could restore the old kingdom of

Outremer as it had been before the battle of Hattin, and the

line of the Jordan and the northern mountains could easily

be held. Above all, they would be masters of Jerusalem again.

Strangely, while these soldiers were eager to exchange

Damietta for Jerusalem, it was a churchman who opposed

them. Pelagius would not hear of it. He demanded that the

terms be refused, and the march to Cairo resumed.

Why he took this stand there is no telling. 1 The Genoese

faction was urgent to press the war in Egypt and to keep the

port of Damietta for to these merchants of the sea the

recovery of Jerusalem meant little, while the trade of Da

mietta and Cairo meant much. The other Italians and the

newly arrived Germans also supported Pelagius. But the

cardinal seems to have been obsessed with the thought of

victory in battle. He had wielded authority in Constantinople,

he had driven the soldiers to the assault of Damietta, and

now he had set his mind upon Cairo.

His word was final, because he was legate of the Holy See,

and he spoke with the authority of the pope himself. The

sultan s terms were rejected and the army moved forward

again*

Unknown to the crusaders and days before its time, the

Nile was also moving in flood down toward them.

Against his will, Al Kamil made ready to give battle at

Mansura The Victorious. For months he had been building

galleys at Cairo and sending them down the other branch

of the Nile to Alexandria, so that by now the Moslem fleet

*The march on Cairo would only have been justified if the crusaders had been in

far greater strength than the Moslems. On the contrary, Al Kamil had the larger

army, owing to the reinforcements that had just come in from the east. The Moslem

chroniclers say that he had 40,000 men without the Bedawin and Sudani levies.

They add that the Christians demanded more than the sultan offered at first

the citadels of Kerak and Mont R6al to be added to the Jerusalem concession

and that when the sultan granted this, they still demanded 500,000 dinars to be

paid for repairing the walls of Jerusalem. But the Moslem historians naturally

desire to make it appear that Al Kamil denied the Christian s request, and their

testimony does not alter the fact that the crusaders did not accept the sultan s

first terms.

MANSURA 293

was the stronger and, going around by sea from Alexandria

to Damietta, had driven the Christian ships away from

Damietta.

On the twenty-fourth of July, the crusaders advance

came to a stop. In front of them the river joined the Ashmoun

branch of the Nile, so that they were moving into a triangle

of land with rivers on both sides, while across the water on

slightly higher ground stood the Moslem fortified camp of

Mansura. All their efforts at forcing a crossing failed under

the missiles from the Moslem engines, and they were beset in

turn by clouds of Bedawin horse. Before long they were

obliged to entrench their own camp. Meanwhile the Nile

rose steadily, and the ships bringing their supplies ceased to

come up the river.

This was due to Al Kamil s galleys, which had taken pos

session of the Damietta branch in the rear of the Christians,

coming between them and Damietta. Apparently the galleys

accompanying the army could do nothing with the new

Moslem fleet. And with his ships in control of the waterways,

Al Kamil could move his forces about at will.

The first the Christians realized of the flood was when the

water appeared in their camp, ankle deep. Al Kamil then

took the desperate measure of breaking down some of the

river dikes, flooding the triangle in which the crusaders

were camped.

Only one narrow mule path remained open in the rear of

the Christians, and the sultan by throwing a bridge of

boats across the Ashmoun branch was able to place his

cavalry across this single road to Damietta. His archers

raked the crusaders tents with arrows, and King John,

faced with disaster, cast his knights through the flooded

region in an attack upon the Moslems. The heavy chargers

bogged down in the mud, and the Moslem archers swept the

men from the saddles with their arrows from the dikes.

Without food and almost without hope, the king burned

his tents and, with all the army, tried to cut his way back to

Damietta; but on the first day the retreat floundered in the

flooded ditches, and with his men helpless in the water, he

sent to the sultan to ask for terms of peace.

294 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

While his men, separated from their remaining ships, beat

off the Moslem attacks, King John was escorted under truce

to Al Kamil s tent, where he flung himself down, his head in

his hands.

"Why grievest thou?" the sultan asked.

"I grieve," John said, "for the men out yonder."

The crusaders, although unable to move, were still holding

off the triumphant Moslems, and Al Kamil had no inclination

to press the attack upon desperate men or to besiege

Damietta, which was held by a strong garrison, thereafter.

So he granted liberal terms, the prisoners on both sides to be

returned, Damietta to be given up and evacuated, and the

surviving crusaders to be allowed to depart in peace. A truce

was agreed upon for eight years, o,r until a new monarch

should come on crusade from Europe King John, still

expecting the arrival of the Emperor Frederick, did not feel

that he could bind the German monarch by his surrender.

So, in the gray mud of the Nile, ended the first Egyptian

crusade, in September, 1221.

The disaster had a double effect. Ever since Saladin s

capture of Jerusalem, the men of Europe had gone forth to

continuous war. Until now they looked forward hopefully

to the recovery of the Holy City, feeling that the burden

of their sins had caused defeat in the past, but that victory

lay ahead of them a conviction impressed upon them by the

preachers of the Church. After Mansura, the soldiers began

to lose this confidence.

On the other hand the Moslems, who had lost ground

steadily, though not decisively, since Saladin s first sweep

across the Holy Land, now regained confidence. Mansura

taught them that they could overthrow an army of the

dreaded knights. Saladin had fought against odds, but Al

Kamil found himself on even terms with the crusaders.

Thenceforth the Moslem power was to increase, although in a

way they little suspected.

The surrender at Mansura had its interlude. A slender

figure in a friar s habit, barefoot and hatless, appeared in the

Moslem camp, heedless of the mocking and menaces of the

MANSURA 295

warriors. St. Francis, the apostle of poverty and gentleness,

made an appeal to the sultan in his seat of war and luxury.

To Al Kamil, little understanding, it seemed to be an act of

madness, but he saw that this first missionary of peace suf

fered no harm.

Al Kamil had broken and driven back a general crusade,

but he still had to deal with Frederick of Hohenstaufen.

PART IV

WHEN KAISER REDBEARD took the cross and rode

to the east, he came not home again. He passed from

the sight of the men of the marks, and no one could

say where his grave was dug. But the dwarfs of the

forests knew, the trolls of the forests knew, and the

old men and minnesingers said, "In the abyss of

Kyfhauser he slumbers. Ay, the Redbeard sleeps

with his paladins, until the trumpets of Armageddon

shall sound, when he will ride again with his host-

he will ride again."

And the years passed, and the generations of men,

and Armageddon came. But the Redbeard slept with

his paladins, and one knows where his grave is dug.

THE CHILD OF SICILY

E court of Palermo had tasted of the lotus. It lay

apart from the roads of the world and the rumbling

of wars. Between the hills and the tranquil blue sea, it

thrived and invented pleasures of its own.

To these sun-warmed hills of Sicily had come Norman ad

venturers and German knights. They were glad to be free of

the thralldom of snow and ice, and they built their castles on

the heights overlooking vineyards and orchards and the

beaches filled with fishing craft and drying nets. They need

no longer prison themselves in during the winter 3 while

cattle grew lean in dark byres, and woodcutters shambled

through the dark forests under a leaden sky.

Instead they could ride out to the hawking at will, or

hold tournaments of arms in the palace grounds, sheltered by

rows of dark ilex and hibiscus bushes with dull red blossoms.

They had discarded the leather jerkins and wool tunics of

the North, and they clothed their limbs in silk and linen

surcoats embroidered with new colors. Instead of being

pent in the weaving rooms, the women went about with the

men, and sat by them in the banquets of the castle halls.

The nobles themselves no longer kept tally of cattle, and

299

300 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

hides and mead stored up, or the farming of the summer

fields. Here they had native peasants to labor with the

harvests, and Arab treasurers to keep faithful account of

monies.

Palermo had grown fine and sightly since the Normans

came. Stone cloisters had been built around flowering gardens

where the monks took their ease during the hot afternoons.

But fairest of all was the new cathedral of bright brown stone,

with twin belfries towers that soared against the drifting

white clouds, above the dust and the clamor of the streets.

Each year they added some chapel or arched portal to the

edifice, or a new bit of mosaic that shone like glass upon a

ground of gold. They had learned to love colors, these monks

who had seen the finer work of the Byzantine and Arab

artisans. With brush and gold-leaf they gilded carefully the

hair and the haloes of the figures of the saints.

They had done away with the gray, cold walls for the

walls of the cathedral were pierced with lofty pointed win

dows of real glass, in small pieces, leaded together. And upon

these pieces of glass were painted actual scenes from the days

of the Seigneur Jesus, with lilies growing in the fields. When

the sun struck fair upon these windows, the blessed figures

glowed with a lifelike color, and this was truly a marvel.

True, in the chapel of the palace, there were greater won

ders birds and beasts carved out of white marble, support

ing the pulpit and the heads of the columns. And skilled

Arabs had carved in the wood of the ceiling such crystalline

designs that it no longer seemed to be wood at all. But the

folk of the city visited the cathedral daily for their needs

carrying sick children or holy pictures to be .blessed. Or,

perhaps, being weary, they went in to hear the long chanting

of the choir.

And from the cathedral went out at Easter-tide the old

processional of the Crucifix, carried upon the shoulders of

the willing peasants, with lilies and poppies piled around the

feet of the well-known figures. They even had, borne upon a

platter for all to see, the knife with which the good Peter

sliced an ear from one of the persecutors of the Lord. And by

the knife lay the actual ear.

THE CHILD OF SICILY 301

The men of the cloisters did more than march in the pro

cessions. Some of them had studied Arab texts and others

had read the profane writings of the pagans, Virgil and

Horace. To be sure, they did not copy such writings in their

book of hours, but they talked about them.

The noble lords were not apace with the new learning of

the scholastics, for Latin and Greek are woundy matters for

the mind. Yet they had learned the art of the minstrels, and

they could match one good lai with another. They still

dreaded the spell magic might cast upon them, and in all evil

they saw the hand of Satan.

In doctoring their children, however, they favored the

Arab leeches who knew all the humors of the blood, rather

than the black priests who relied upon holy water, or the

beldames who croaked of the virtues of herbs boiled with

vital parts of snakes, toads, and lice. For one thing, the Arabs

drafts were pleasanter drinking.

The gray friars and the preaching friars had not yet come

to Palermo. The Sicilian lords, living apart from the bishop

rics of the North, had talked much with far-faring merchants

and Arab savants, and in their tournaments they made much

ado about the pageantry, the decking of the lists, and the

caparisoning of the horses, and the rules of courtesy that they

had gleaned from Moslem chivalry. So the tournaments were

delightful to the ladies, who had had little share in the bone-

breaking melees of the North in the old days.

And it was pleasant for the knights to join their love of

women with their allegiance to the Lord, Much pleasanter,

now, to have women their companions in field and hall, able

to cap their jests and yield a spice to the drinking. Already

they had forgotten the days of the old feudal manors, when

women bore children that often died, and went about, bur

dened with keys, from embroidery looms to the prayer closets

with their images of stiff and colorless saints.

As plants thrive in a sunny sheltered garden, these men of

Sicily gained warm-blooded vitality and sharpened, eager

minds that sought for new thoughts. It was whispered in

Rome that they were in a fair way to become a second court

of Toulouse, filled with the heretics of Languedoc. . . .

302 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

And the court found its very embodiment in the youth

who was its sovereign, Frederick Hohenstaufen, the son of

Henry VI and Constance of Sicily, but an orphan from the

age of three years. In appearance he was all Norman, stocky

and strong, with a keen, ugly face and intolerant eyes set too

close together, and a pride that was as instinctive as his

mordant humor. Was he not the heir of the Hohenstaufen,

descendant of Frederick Redbeard, who had been a Teutonic

Hannibal, and who had said, " By God s grace,, I am emperor

of Rome"?

Not that Frederick troubled his head about matters of

empire. He left all that to the Church, for Innocent had been

his tutor and the present pope his preceptor, and between

them they were administering Sicily for him. He was quite

willing to sign concessions to his friends in Rome while he

had other things to occupy him.

He loved the chase, and the training of falcons, and the

excitement of the tournaments. And the young prince had

the ability to do everything well. His quick mind seized upon

a new problem and mastered it whether it was the handling

of a lance, or the wheedling of a fair woman. In this last

Frederick found no difficulty, only a delight that changed

in a few years to amusement. He learned to play with his

passions, seeking some fresh sensation that he had missed.

His was a philosophic mind. A brilliant conversationalist,

and a stubborn arguer, he found food for interest in the de

bates of his prelates with the Arabs and Greeks of the court.

Straightway, his thoughts overleaped such dogmatic prob

lems, and played with stranger concepts. Something in him

was akin to the Justinian of other ages who had never been

content, even with pagan dreams.

Frederick once said that he would only believe what

could be demonstrated before him. But, in reality, he be

lieved whatever appealed to his fancy. His philosophy never

overcame his curiosity. And, for better or worse, Frederick

was launched upon a world that, in spite of the new learning

of the scholastics, was bound in all things by the rigid dogma

of the Church,

THE CHILD OF SICILY 303

While Innocent lived, Frederick remained on most affable

terms with Rome. If he was not devout, he was indifferent,

while he had his falcons and the fair Greek girls.

And then, with a sudden flash of decision, he rode north

almost unattended, to claim the German throne that his

father had held. On the way he presented himself before

Innocent and a bargain was confirmed between them. The

Lateran would support his candidacy, upon two conditions

that Frederick take the crusader s cross, and that never

under any conditions should the crowns of Sicily and Ger

many be united in one person. No matter how friendly the

emperor, Rome would not allow him to hold, as Henry

had tried to hold, the empire on the north and the kingdom

on the south. Rome itself held the regency of Sicily and

southern Italy now known as the Two Sicilies.

Frederick pledged himself to this in all sincerity. He had

grown up, amid neglect and conspiracy, as the ward of the

Church, and all that was chivalrous in him drew him toward

the crusade. It is significant of Innocent s knowledge of men

that he had misgivings after his meeting with Frederick.

And the bargain proved disastrous to the papacy.

This happened in 1215.

For a while the disorders in the German lands occupied all

Frederick s attention, and he dealt deftly with the problems

here although at first he could hardly speak German. The

lion cub was gaining both strength and cunning. And he

became aware of many things, among them that the papal

Curia was setting aside German rights in Italy. This drew

his eyes to the South for the greatest of the Hohenstaufen

was not the man to let others tread upon his privileges.

Moreover, he was never at ease in the somber burgs of the

North, and his love of Sicily never waned.

The papal court began to think that it had lost a good

friend to make a bad neighbor. And the robed men of Rome

decided that Frederick must carry out his vow to go on

crusade. But Frederick would not be drawn out of his new

stronghold, and on one pretense or another, he put off his

3 o 4 THE FLAME OF ISLAM .

departure finally requesting that before he went he should

be crowned in public at Rome, and this was done with all

ceremony.

Then the news of the failure of the Egyptian crusade and

the loss of Damietta reached Rome. It was decided to call a

conference of the various leaders to discuss the next crusade,

and to this assemblage at Ferentino in the year 1223 the

pope himself came, and Frederick, with Herman of Salza,

grand master of the Teutonic Order recently escaped from

Egypt. Thither also journeyed the grand masters of the

Temple and Hospital, with John, King of Jerusalem, and

other princes.

It was the stalwart Herman of Salza and no one knows

who inspired him to do so who rose and suggested that

Frederick marry Yolande, the young daughter of John, and

sole heiress to the kingdom of Jerusalem.

This naturally pleased John, the elderly gentleman-

adventurer, who had hardly dreamed of having a Hohen-

staufen for son-in-law. The pope, Honorius, assented, seeing

in this marriage a means of interesting Frederick in the

Holy Land. And Frederick himself agreed readily, seeing a

new gateway of conquest open to the East the very dream

of his father.

The matter was discussed by everyone save Yolande, who

was only eleven years of age. At least a year must pass before

she would be able to marry. And Herman of Salza agreed

that, of course, John would continue to hold the kingship of

Jerusalem so long as he lived. On his part, Frederick, in

trigued by the new project, swore that he would sail upon

his crusade in 1225.

But when the time of the wedding drew near, Frederick

did not sail to claim his bride in the Holy Land. Yolande

must needs come to the cathedral of Brindisi instead, with

her small entourage, and her bridal chests, and her girlish

pride in this great dignity, and her unspoken fears. For she

was only thirteen and the scion of the Hohenstaufen had

become the most exalted monarch of Christendom.

No chronicler relates her story. She knelt beside the Ger

man lord, her master, in all the splendor of the imperial

THE CHILD OF SICILY 305

court. She went forth into oblivion. Not a week had passed

before John found his daughter unattended and weeping in

the Brindisi castle. What she endured at Frederick s hand

was never known. The dry pen of history relates that she

died in giving birth to her first child,, Conrad.

Nor was her father happy in the marriage, because the

following day Frederick made sudden demand upon him to

yield the scepter of his kingdom, saying that Yolande by

her lineage was rightful queen of Jerusalem. Almost by force

the scepter was taken from the old adventurer and in the

eyes of the men of that time, authority passed beyond remedy

from the monarch who surrendered his regalia.

John protested, reminding Frederick of his pledge at

Ferentino that the kingship should remain with him until

his death. Frederick retorted that there had been no written

treaty. In the emperor s mind there was no question of broken

faith. John of Brienne was a man of obscure birth, to be

thrust aside from the path of majesty.

He could not thus lightly rid himself of the pledge to go on

crusade. Instead he swore anew, placing his hands between

the hands of the cardinal Pelagius, that he would sail, under

pain of excommunication, in two years with a fleet and a

strong army. But in those two years new projects took shape

in his mind and he determined to keep Sicily. The old life

at Palermo brought back all his love for the Southland. True,

he had promised Innocent to give up Sicily when he took

the German throne. It would be a delicate matter to reclaim

the South and a pretty bit of intrigue always fascinated

him.

The Lateran was well aware of the danger in this the

two grindstones of the North and South closing upon Rome

under a single powerful hand. The aged and gentle Honorius

died, and was succeeded by an equally aged but far more

dominant soul, Gregory IX. The first act of the new pope was

to send letters to Frederick demanding that he make good

his vow and sail.

So at last, in September, 1228, Frederick s malingering

came to an end and he embarked with his men for the East.

In the hot summer on the Brindisi coast, sickness had taken

3 o6 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

toll of the army and increased to such an extent aboard the

ships that Frederick put back to Otranto. There, at the end

of September, he was astonished to hear that Gregory had

pronounced him excommunicate because he had turned back,

and had launched upon him the great curse of the Church,

condemning him to solitude and freeing his subjects from

allegiance to him.

Undoubtedly Frederick was not prepared for this. Nor

was he minded to yield to the pope. And, when everyone

looked for him to hasten back to Germany to rally his forces,

he sailed instead to Jerusalem.

It must have stirred the dark humor in him, to set out at

last as a crusader, under excommunication.

XLI

FREDERICK S VOYAGE

E men who sailed with Frederick to the East he had

left the bulk of his army in Sicily were more troubled

by the excommunication than their master. Some of

the priests, fearful of what might befall, whispered that the

i emperor had held intercourse with strange powers, and that

at heart he was no better than a pagan. Others denied this,

saying that he had become emperor by God s will, and that

the Church of Rome had no right to lay such a ban upon the

anointed of God.

Old soldiers recalled the past, telling how one of Frederick s

ancestors had knelt in the snow in his shirt for days before

the closed door of the pope, to do penance for his sins, and

how Barbarossa had prostrated himself, to let the pope put

foot upon his neck. It was ill, they muttered, to go against

the Church; but what was done, was done.

It would be mended, the more ardent spirits pointed out,

if their master redeemed the tomb of the Lord from the in

fidels. That would be a penance!

But how could one accursed by the holy Father hope to

gain a victory where even the great cardinal Pelagius had

failed? And what fate would befall the army that he led?

307

3 o8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

To go against the infidel was right enough the clear duty of

Christian folk. But to draw sword against the powers of evil,

when the holy Father had cursed their leader, that was a

fearful thing. Besides, they had only half an army.

So the German liegemen talked among themselves, while

the ships crossed the blue Aegean and drew near the low

shore of Cyprus. The few foreign crusaders had dropped away

from Frederick, but the Teutonic Knights held to his side

and the bulk of the small army followed its lords obediently,

albeit with misgivings. When they landed on the sands of

Limassol, the Templars held aloof in the neighboring castle

of Colossi, and the nobles of Cyprus greeted the emperor with

constraint, although the duty of hospitality lay upon them,

to welcome him.

Frederick, however, was in high spirits. He bade his hosts

prepare a banquet, and at table he talked with them affably,

even while his liegemen came and ranged themselves about

the hall. To the veteran lord John of Ibelin, who was acting

as governor of the island, he turned suddenly.

"Messire John," he said, "I have two requests to lay be

fore you. If you will accord me them graciously you will do

well for yourself and will prove that you are, as men say, a

wise man."

Ibelin, who was also lord of Beirut, responded gravely:

"Sire, all that lies in the duty of a man of honor, I will do,

certainly."

Frederick glanced about the table and smiled. "The first

thing that I ask is the castle of Beirut, which is within the

kingdom of my son Conrad. The second is that you render

me account of the revenues of the Crown of Cyprus for the

ten years since the death of King Hugh; for to me belong the

fruits of the domain, after the laws and right of the German

Empire."

Hearing these words, some at the table fell amazed, and

others looked about them uneasily. For Frederick had de

manded no less than that the rich island and the fair port of

Beirut be yielded into his hand. He meant, it was clear, to

claim all the possessions of the Crown in the region of the

Holy Land, by virtue of Yolande s title and the homage that

FREDERICK S VOYAGE 309

had been done to his father* Yet at the very outset he found

before him a man who would not submit to blandishment,

or to a show of force.

"Sire/ said John d Ibelin, when he had considered his

response, "as to the city of Beirut, it is mine by right as I

took it from the Saracens." He stood up before his distin

guished guest. "As for the revenues of Cyprus, I will submit

them to the high court of the barons ; and now do I ask for trial

and judgment upon this matter that you have brought up

between us."

And, storm and laugh and threaten as he would, Frederick

could not shake the decision of the soldier. He had hoped to

sweep away opposition, and he was not minded to submit his

claim to court. But he left his bailiffs in Cyprus when he

crossed to the Holy Land, and he had not relinquished his

plan of drawing all the Near East into his empire.

He had need just then of all his nimble wit. Many Syrian

barons had taken warning from the case of Ibelin, and would

not join him. The Hospitalers kept to their castles. Frederick

had no more than thirty-five hundred horse and ten thou

sand foot with him, and the voyage had emptied his treasury.

Even while he landed with all his court at Acre, he borrowed

40,000 pieces from Syrian nobles.

With such a force he could not hope to fight his way to

Jerusalem, and he turned instead to diplomacy, knowing that

the Moslems dreaded his coming. He had taken pains to

notify Al Kamil at Cairo of his approach, and to salute the

sultan in most friendly manner. Now he wrote again:

"At the time of the siege of Damietta, you offered to grant

us all Palestine. Now, surely, you can not offer me less than

you promised the other Franks. If I had thought you would

not make this concession, I would not have come. It is not

to your interest to disappoint me."

This was really brilliant effrontery, and Al Kamil did not

know what to make of it. He had agreed to treat with Freder

ick, but had not mentioned Jerusalem. The great German

emperors had always been held in awe by the Moslem princes,

who looked on them as the true lords of Christendom. Al

Kamil did not wish to give up Palestine, yet he wished even

3 io THE FLAME OF ISLAM

less for war with Frederick. So he sent an envoy to flatter

the exalted invader.

And Frederick flattered the envoy, talking to him as only

the emperor could. He hinted at his liking for the Moslem

customs and religion mentioned his Arab subjects in Sicily

debated the philosophy of Averroes and promised to

prevent any other crusade being launched against Al Kamil.

He moved down to Jaffa, and fortified it, to be nearer the

negotiations, and gave the Moslems no time to ponder the

matter. Banquet followed banquet and his German barons

hunted over the foothills toward Jerusalem.

"I am thy friend," he wrote again to Al Kamil, "and soon

wilt thou know how high I am above all the other princes of

the West." Al Kamil yielded, and after his envoy brought

his consent Frederick had the treaty drawn up in Arabic

and French. With only a few witnesses present, he signed it,

and put away his own copy. Then he bade it be announced

in the camp that the Holy Land had been yielded to him.

It was years before the full terms of this unlooked-for

treaty were known. In reality, Frederick had conceded a

good deal, but he had traded promises for territory.

The treaty granted him all the city of Jerusalem, except

the Haram region with the Dome of the Rock and the Al

Aksa mosque, sacred to the Moslems. The Templars and

Hospitalers could return to the Holy City but not to their

castles outside it, although the neighboring villages went with

the city, and Bethlehem and Nazareth also. A kind of corridor

down to Acre, with the castles of Toron and Montfort, was

ceded, so that the Christians could come and go to the sea.

On his part, Frederick pledged the safety of Moslem pil

grims to the Haram, and agreed to a truce for ten years. In

this time he would give no aid to the Christian lords of north

Syria, and he would not allow a crusade to be formed in

Europe against Egypt. He also agreed not to rebuild the

walls of Jerusalem. 1

*The terms of this peace are not clearly known. For instance, one of the first things

Frederick did at Jerusalem was to prepare openly to rebuild the walls although

the other points of his agreement with the Moslems he tried to keep.

It is said also that Laodicea and Mount Tabor were yielded up by Kamil.

After the peace the crusaders held all the shore from Antioch to Ascalon, and

FREDERICK S VOYAGE 311

For a man harassed by the papal power, and with only the

nucleus of an army, this was a brilliant piece of diplomacy,

and Frederick made more effort to keep his pledges to the

Moslems than he had done with the Christians. But it was a

halfway measure, leaving Jerusalem divided between Mos

lem and Christian, and defenseless. It roused instant protest

from the Templars and Hospitalers, who had not been con

sulted, although they were bound by the terms of the truce.

And the Moslems railed against Al Kamil who had given

away Al Kuds, The Holy, for some promises from the Franks.

In vain the sultan said to them, " I have yielded nothing to

the Franks but churches and houses in ruins, while the

mosque remains as it is, and all the ritual of Islam will be

observed there, as before/

But kadis and readers who were forced to leave the aban

doned places journeyed to Cairo with their Korans and

prayer rugs and posted themselves outside the sultan s

gate, to wail and to scold him when he appeared.

The common folk among the Christians who had hoped

for the recapture of the Holy Land felt that the treaty was

ominous of evil to come, and they spoke of it among them

selves as " the bad peace/

Meanwhile, in the beginning of Lent of this year 1229,

the emperor made ready to enter Jerusalem.

It was to be his triumph in the Holy Land, and no doubt

he bethought him of the triumphs of the Caesars of elder

Rome. He rode gayly through the twisting valleys where

Coeur de Lion had struggled, and at his heels came a glitter

ing cortege of nobles. Although the sun was mild, and the hill

sides green after the rains, a shadow lay over the German

monarch and his men.

From Rome, the pope s legates had followed his journey,

warning the people against this antagonist of the Church.

The sacraments could not be administered to Frederick, nor

would any bishop bless his undertaking. Wherever he halted

many places in the foothills the Hospitalers had been fortifying their lands in

middle Syria but the Moslems kept the castles in the hills, and the line of the

Jordan, so the crusaders in Jerusalem were always open to attack.

3 i2 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

for the night, the papal envoy came and laid the interdict

of the Church upon the spot. No holy offices could be held

where Frederick had set his foot.

Without heeding, the emperor passed through the dis

mantled gate of Jerusalem, and took up his quarters in a

palace abandoned by the Moslems. A strange throng stood

in the alleys to stare at him bearded Greek priests and

swarthy Maronites, Jews in their shubas and palmers leaning

upon their staffs. Beside them crowded Moslem kadis, and

silent men wearing the white turbans of the hadj. Except for

these, Jerusalem lay deserted. No bells tolled joyfully and no

choir sang as Frederick dismounted at the courtyard of the

Sepulcher, looking up at the leaning belfry and the arched

portals marred by weather and neglect.

No one advanced to greet him, so that when his courtiers

had assembled, the emperor had to lead the way into the dark

church and to the white marble tomb under the cracked

dome, where the Greek priests followed, anxious and uncer

tain, like mothers who watch some stranger approach their

child.

The Germans all held tapers in their hands, and when they

had knelt before the closed tomb, Frederick rose and went to

the altar opposite. On the altar a gold crown had been placed,

and since there was no bishop to do the office for him, Freder

ick crowned himself. Lifting the gold circlet with his own

hand, he placed it on his head.

"In the name of the holy Trinity ... I, Frederick the

Second, by divine mercy emperor of the Romans, for ever

Augustus, and king of Sicily, announce that I am henceforth

king of Jerusalem. . . ."

He took his seat upon the raised chair, and a stalwart figure

in armor uprose, bearing his helmet upon his arm. It was

Herman of Salza, and he spoke to the listening knights and

priests first in German, then in French:

"Seigneurs, my lord the emperor hath made sacrifice to

journey hither, and now he hath redeemed for us this holy

city and this blessed Sepulcher. My lord the emperor is

ready to devote his strength and his revenues to maintain

and guard what he hath won for us ... and on your part,

FREDERICK S VOYAGE 313

you must e en give what you can from your revenues. . . ."

Leaving the church, Frederick made his way to the palace,

and held open court there. A banquet was prepared, and he

urged the Moslem amirs to attend, taking great satisfaction

in talking with them. This day, he told them, was the begin

ning of peace between Moslem and Christian, and he trusted

in the Holy Land their friendship would be as lasting as

in Sicily.

When the feasting was at an end, Frederick led the way

to the dismantled city wall, and with the Moslems at his side,

began with his own hand the trench that was to hold the

foundation of a new wall. This done, he confessed to a desire

to visit the sanctuaries of the Moslems. Whereupon the kadi,

sent by Al Kamil to attend upon the distinguished guest,

conducted him past the Via Dolorosa to the great wall of the

temple enclosure over which towered the gilt dome of the

Rock.

Frederick admired this much, and exclaimed over the

beauty of the wide Al Aksa portico where the delicate

columns erected by the first crusaders still stood in place.

He even climbed upon a marble minbar beside the fountain,

and as he did so his quick eye caught sight of a Christian

priest who had followed his knights and was now hastening

toward the entrance of the mosque that had once held the

chapel of the Templars. In his hand the priest carried the

Scriptures.

Frederick stormed at him angrily. " Knowest not that here

even we are only the vassals of the sultan Al Kamil? Not

one of you is to pass the limits fixed about your churches."

At sunset that evening he went to the roof of his palace to

listen to the muezzin s call to prayer. When he heard nothing,

he summoned the kadi to him the next day.

"Why," he asked, "did not the muezzins call the faithful

to prayer from the minarets?"

The kadi had been careful to forbid the call, for fear of

angering his illustrious and temperamental visitor. "Your

slave forbade them," he explained, "out of respect for the

emperor."

"You were wrong to do that," Frederick responded, "for

3 i 4 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

my chief purpose in coming to Jerusalem was to hear the

Moslem summons to prayer and their praise to Allah during

the night."

While the emperor remained in Jerusalem, the Christian

patriarch would not enter; and when he left, the black form

of the papal legate appeared in the Via Dolorosa, treading

where Frederick had trod, with the robed priests following

after. Upon the very stones, he proclaimed the interdict

of the Church, and so proclaiming, he passed into the court

yard of the Sepulcher. Even hardened men-at-arms, whose

souls were past all shriving, stared aghast and crossed them

selves as they listened to the measured chant of the papal

messenger. The words were whispered from hospice to hall,

and men grew pale at the whispers.

" Sancta Maria what has come upon us? He has laid the

ban upon the Tomb ! "

Then they feared that indeed evil would come of this

although many, traveling unhindered to Jerusalem, praised

Frederick as a victor and as a very Michael in armor pre

vailing over the forces of Satan.

Frederick put to sea at once, because tidings had reached

him that the papal forces had taken up arms against his

bailiffs in Italy. He called together the high court of the

barons before sailing and informed them that he appointed

Balian of Ibelin as his bailiff in Palestine, to administer the

lands until he could send out other officers. He embarked

with his army, taking on one of the galleasses the white ele

phant that Al Kamil had sent him as a gift. And some people

said he took fair Saracen girls upon his own galley. When he

pushed off from the quay at Acre, men standing in front of

the butchers quarter threw entrails and refuse upon his

courtiers.

Thus the emperor Frederick made use of a crusade to build an

empire. With him the politics of the West invaded the East.

XLII

VAE, CAESAR !

REDERICK S advent into the East had wrought only a

semblance of peace. True, he had made good his vow

to go on crusade. Yet he had used Jerusalem as a

prop to his empire.

To this giant of Sicily, at heart a pagan, such a dominion

appeared as the fulfilment of his destiny. Nations were only

beginning to exist then, and he looked upon humanity as one

body, a universal mass of men to be ruled by himself. Out

of such rule would come universal peace, as in the days of

the Caesars. By divine will, he was monarch of all peoples.

He did not scruple about laws because he was the law.

But he could not sail to the East again, and no second

miracle could be wrought there by his genius. Instead, for a

decade, he tried to establish his rule through his governors

bailiffs and in the end he failed*

While Balian of Ibelin held his affairs in charge, the barons

of the Holy Land accepted the new conditions. When an

astute Italian, Filangieri, marshal of the Empire, came out to

take command with Frederick s golden writ of authority,

matters did not go so well. Filangieri, affable at first, at-

315

3 i6 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

tempted to confiscate Beirut, and so estranged the high

court of the barons. When Frederick s marshal took up arms

to enforce his orders, the Ibelins and the barons rallied to

resist him, and open conflict followed, first in Cyprus, then

on the Syrian coast. The barons prevailed over the German

officers, and Frederick s liegemen had to withdraw into

Armenia or return to Italy.

Meanwhile Frederick took to himself the title of king of

Thessalonica, and espoused the cause of the Byzantine

nobles who were in conflict with the French adventurers in

Constantinople he even married one of his daughters to

the Byzantine emperor, and refused to allow reinforcements

to pass through his lands to the hard-pressed knights of

Constantinople.

He had no hesitation in saying that he looked for the

Byzantines to regain their city, or that they would become

his vassals. And he wrote frequently to Al Kamil, to maintain

the friendship between them.

Upon his return to Italy, the emperor was met by news

that must have amused him vastly. Willingly or unwillingly,

he had given the papacy, by his absence, rope to entangle

itself. And Gregory IX, aged and indomitable, had tried to

draw the sword against Frederick. While Frederick was away

on crusade, Gregory proclaimed a crusade against him, and

collected benevolences even in England to use against the

sacrilegious emperor.

The papal forces assembled in Italy, and made some head

way against Frederick s lieutenants. The outraged John of

Brienne was in command under the papal banner bearing the

crossed keys.

"Behold the ways of the Romans," said Frederick, on

landing.

His veteran soldiery, wearing the crusader s cross, was

more than a match for the small forces gathered by Brienne,

and all Gregory s wrath could not prevail against the general

ship of the Hohenstaufen. The crusader s cross went into

battle against the papal keys, and Frederick was victo

rious.

VAE, CAESAR! 317

Gregory was forced to lift the ban of excommunication and

grant a truce, favorable to his adversary, the emperor. And

so, in 1230, ended the first phase of their conflict, during

which a little good and much harm had been done to the

cause of the crusades. Frederick had made the Holy Land no

better than a pawn upon his gaming board of empire, and

Gregory had invoked a crusade against the greatest monarch

of Christendom. The mills of Fate were grinding slow, but

they were grinding small and sure.

The truce of the year 1230 during which the pope and

the emperor met in amicable and jovial talk, while they

measured and appreciated each other was only a makeshift,

and it ended as makeshifts do. And when it ended, something

titanic happened.

The struggle that had been going on between the Church

and the Empire for two hundred years became actual war

again, but this time without mercy or respite. Not a war of

ordered armies and marches and sieges. It changed into a

worse thing a war of extermination. And into it were drawn

men and resources from all the byways of Christendom.

It brought on again the murk of the Dark Ages, plunging

the lands into a twilight of the earthly gods. The emperor

who had the affairs of men and property in his hands was at

death grips with the Church that ministered to the souls of

men.

Not yet had nations emerged out of the welter, and not

yet had individuals found voices or convictions. Men still

thought of themselves as members of one universal family;

hemmed in by the masses of their fellows, they looked for

guidance to their two resplendent overlords, the emperor

anointed of God, and the pope, the Father of the Church.

Now these overlords were striking each other down.

The struggle centered around Rome.

St. Augustine had dreamed of a universal city that should

bring ultimate peace, and now others dreamed of emperors-

to-be who would restore the lost peace of the elder Roman

Empire.

In their thoughts the actual city of Rome played its part.

3i8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Here the Caesars had ruled and had been entbmbed; here,

without doubt, was the seat of universal empire. Pilgrims

visited the half-ruined city of the Tiber not only to pray at

St. Peter s but to behold with their eyes the Forum that had

seen the triumphs of Augustus and Trajan. To be sure, they

found thieves quartered in the cellars of the Forum, and the

mausoleums made into fortresses by the nobles of Rome.

But they still looked to see Rome restored to its former

grandeur.

Nearly a hundred years later, the exiled Dante would still

call upon the emperor of his day to enter upon the imperial

heritage. And still later Cola di Rienzi would cry to his master

Charles to rebuild the Empire from the wreckage of Rome.

To the men of Frederick s day Rome was the eternal city,

the fitting abode of the two masters of the world, and the

faubourg of the Eternal City that lay beyond life itself.

Frederick, passionately eager for personal glory and almost

sensuously delighted by conflict, did not begin the final

struggle wholly of his own accord. In his memory lingered

the trumpet blasts of Barbarossa and the challenge of his

father, Henry VI. Even less did Gregory seek the final de

cision. He no more than followed doggedly the path prepared

by the great Hildebrand, and paved by the ambition of In

nocent III. At some time the decision had to be reached

whether the pope or the emperor would become temporal

ruler of Christendom. Innocent had almost won this ulti

mate dominion for the papacy, but Honorius had lost ground

to Frederick.

The decision was now at hand, bringing with it the end of

the old dream of universal empire.

^The actual cause of breaking the truce was slight a

dispute over lands in Lombardy. It brought proclamations

from the two antagonists, confiscations by both sides, arming

of the liegemen, and finally open war. Frederick advanced

into north Italy to scatter the adherents of the papacy and

to put an end to the temporal dominion of Rome.

Even at war, his fertile mind played with new projects

a university in Naples, or imperial judges to be seated where

feudal lords and bishops had been the only law in the past.

VAE, CAESAR! 319

He could juggle with the Lombard League, while he did

away with the old feudal order building up state monop

olies on the Moslem plan. Sicilian Arab bowmen formed

his bodyguard. In a diet at Mainz he laid down a plan that

would bring about national law to replace ecclesiastical

courts, and do away with trial by ordeal; into Cremona he

marched in triumph with his white elephant Al Kamil s

gift drawing the car that held his standard, with the son of

a doge of Venice chained to the standard pole. To those who

beheld him he appeared an imperial messiah, or a viceroy of

Satan.

" By the authority of the Father, and by our own author

ity, we excommunicate and anathematize Frederick, the so-

called emperor, because he has incited rebellion in Rome

against the Roman Church for the purpose of driving the

pope and his cardinals from the apostolic seat. . . . We

absolve all his subjects from their oaths of fidelity to him,

forbidding them to show him fidelity so long as he is under

excommunication. In regard to the accusation of heresy

which is made against Frederick, we shall act upon it in the

proper time."

Thus Gregory, fully aroused to his peril. And he deposed

Frederick by papal edict.

"Was there ever such presumption?" cried the emperor,

when the news was brought to him. " Where are the chests

that hold my treasures?"

And when the caskets of his regalia were brought hastily

before him, he had them opened. "See now whether my

crowns are lost! The pope and all his synod shall not take

them from me. Has he dared depose me a prince who has no

equal? So much the better. Before this I was bound to obey

him, but now I am absolved from any obligation to keep

peace with him."

Against the popes themselves he railed with an eloquent

tongue: "These shepherds of Israel who are not the pontiffs

of the Church of Christ."

And Gregory, no mincer of words, announced that Freder

ick was like to the blasphemous beast of the Apocalypse,

the beast that arose from the sea.

320 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

It was about this time [the chronicler Matthew of Paris relates]

that evil reports became current which blackened the reputation

of the emperor Frederick. It was said that he was weak in the faith,

and was a heretic. What right have we even to repeat such things!

His enemies said that he believed more in Muhammad than in

Jesus Christ, and that he had Saracen women as concubines.

Among the people, there was a complaint that he had been allied

to the Saracens for a long time, and that he was more friendly with

them than with Christians. . . .

As to the truth of this, only He knows who knows all things.

Through the murk of conspiracy, and the tumult of com

bat, Frederick moved steadily toward Rome, as Barbarossa

had done. Through impalpable but destructive forces he cut

his way with the sword.

A priest of Paris [so the chronicler Matthew declares] was ordered

to pronounce the ban of excommunication against the emperor,

although he was unwilling. He said: "Listen all of ye! I have been

ordered to pronounce against the emperor Frederick, in the light of

candles and with the sounding of bells, a solemn sentence. I do

not know the cause of it, but I do know the gravity of it, and the

inexorable hate which divides the two adversaries. I know also

that one has wronged the other, but I do not know which it is.

As much as lies in my power, I excommunicate that one that one,

I say, who did wrong to the other. And I absolve the one who en

dured this injury, so harmful to Christianity,"

All Italy was under arms, while Frederick marched on

Rome with his trainbands.

Gregory prepared to defend his citadel. In solemn proces

sion he bore the rdics of the cross, brought hither from

Jerusalem, and the heads of the apostles that had been

carried hither from Constantinople. The procession wound

from the Lateran hill to the basilica of St. Peter. Within the

church, Gregory laid the relics upon the papal altar and

placed his tiara beside them. When he had prayed, he turned

to the assembled people and gave out with his own hand

crusaders crosses, for them to wear in the combat against

the emperor.

Even tidings of fresh calamity in the East could not turn

VAE, CAESAR! 321

his thoughts from the struggle with his antagonist. He

preached a crusade against Frederick, while the din of fight

ing echoed in the streets beneath him, where adherents of

the emperor had fortified themselves in the great baths of

Constantine and the mausoleum of Augustus.

Frederick advanced to the hills of Tivoli, where, through

the malarial mists of the plain, he could see the brown ram

parts of Rome. He was preparing for his final triumph when

victory was snatched from his hand.

The aged Gregory, worn out by the conflict, had died. So

the papal throne, in August, 1241, was vacant. No enemy

in human form confronted Frederick, and he marched away

from Rome.

For months the cardinals dared not elect another pope.

Frederick could not make war upon a papacy that lacked a

pope. He could not overthrow a deserted throne. Frustrated

and angered, he retired into his own lands. And even he, the

arch-jester, could not smile at the irony of the fate that had

rendered him helpless in the hour of success. 1

But he was occupied just then with a fresh peril that had

come out of the Far East. The storm that had brushed past

twenty years ago and had struck fear into the sultan of

Cairo now broke with all its force upon eastern Europe.

It swept over the steppes of Russia, ravaged the fields of

Poland, crossed the heights of the Carpathians, and pene

trated Silesia to the edge of Frederick s lands.

It came in silence, with smoke rising above it. It was made

up of dark masses of horsemen, and it was the Mongol horde.

A generation ago it had followed Genghis Khan out of the

Gobi Desert out of the limbo of things to sniff at the bor

ders of Christendom and draw back into its barren lands. 2

It moved with the swiftness of a storm-wrack driven

Baldwin of Constantinople patched up a peace between the two sides that was no

peace, because Frederick only awaited the advent of a new pope to resume the con

flict. He conceded the inviolability of the papal state, in exchange for exoneration

for himself and his followers. But public opinion, which had been in his favor after

the return from Jerusalem in 1229, was now turning against him.

2The author has described the life of Genghis Khan and the campaigns of the

Mongols in a previous volume. Space does not permit a dissertation here. Europeans

in the Thirteenth Century called the Mongols Tartars.

322 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

before the wind, and it crumpled armies in its path as wind

blows chaff from the threshing field.

Beholding the clouds of horsemen clad in leather and gold

and black lacquer, good people cried out that here were the

legions of Anti-Christ come to reap the last harvests. The

duke of Silesia went down before the horde with his Bava

rians and Teutonic Knights; and Ponce d Aubon, master of

the Templars who had volunteered to go against the pagans,

wrote to his young lord, St. Louis, in France: "Know, Sire,

that the barons of Germany and those in Hungary have taken

the cross to go against the Tartars. And, if they be van

quished, these Tartars will not find any one to stand against

them as far as your land."

But before this letter reached the hand of St. Louis, the

Hungarian host had been vanquished, and Ponce d Aubon

lay lifeless on the field of battle with all of his Templars.

In Frederick s lands the tocsins rang, and the people

prayed to be delivered from the fury of the Mongols. The

horde had been seen at Nieustadt. Frederick, who was then

-in 1241 marching toward Rome, offered a truce to the

pope Gregory, so that their armies could unite against the

Mongols, but Gregory would not hear of it. Frederick then

wrote to Henry III of England urging an alliance against the

horde, without result.

He was soon summoned by the horde to yield himself and

his people and to journey to the Gobi to become a subject of

the great khan, and fill whatever post might be offered him

at the court of Karakorum. To this Frederick answered good-

naturedly that he knew enough about birds of prey to qualify

as the khan s falconer.

While he awaited the approach of the storm, he observed

philosophically to Henry, "These same Tartars must be no

less than the punishment of God visited upon Christendom

for its sins."

Friar Roger Bacon wrote that they were verily soldiers

of Anti-Christ, marching toward Armageddon. Matthew of

Paris related in his chronicle that they were eaters of human

flesh who put women to death with strange ravishments.

But western Europe was spared such a fate. Tidings from

VAE, CAESAR! 323

the Gobi recalled the horde to its homeland the great khan

was dead. And the Mongol armies vanished for the second

time into the steppes.

A new power, unapproachable and irresistible, had ap

peared in the Western world, dwarfing even the sultan of

Cairo and the emperor Frederick and the popes of Rome.

Over the Holy Land this power cast its shadow.

XLIII

AT THE TABLE OF THE HOSPITAL

AIR was the coast of the Holy Land. Never had it been

more fair than in the years that followed 1 240. Pilgrims,

coming in the spring and autumn fleets, found here the

peace that was not known at home.

They did not find, it is true, the Kingdom of Jerusalem,

about which their grandsires had talked. Saladin had shat

tered that, and the great emperors had taken the crown to

add to their regalia.

The parts of the kingdom now had lords of their own

the beautiful island of Cyprus had its king and court, and in

the northern coast Antioch had become a city of the Greek

and Armenian lords. The coast of the Holy Land was held by

the strong hands of the Hospital and the Temple, although

the old crusader families clung to their fiefs.

Pilgrim galleasses now sailed often into the stone-walled

harbor of Chateau Pelerin. This was the stronghold of the

Templars that the Arabs called Athlit. Patiently it had been

built upon the black hard rock at the sea s edge. Half out

upon the sea, and half upon the land, its tawny limestone

walls towered skyward. Within its port, galleys were drawn

324

AT THE TABLE OF THE HOSPITAL 325

up on the sand, and within its outer barrier wall orange

groves and fig trees cast a welcome shade.

Here the pilgrims found unwonted comforts. In the castle

hospice they could store their belongings and sleep upon

clean pallets. They ate in the long refectory, cooled by the

sea air and the thick stone walls. The narrow embrasures of

the refectory looked out upon a terrace covered by a silk

awning, and here the officers of the Temple could be seen in

talk, wearing the somber mantles of the order. They had

the administration of the castle casals y or village lands, the

care and transport of the crops, the lading and discharging

of the cargo vessels now owned by the Temple. Moreover,

they had now to act as bankers, to discount bills of exchange

brought by Italian merchants, and to pay silver to the

pilgrims against the money orders brought from the com-

manderies of the Temple in France.

At matins and at vespers the pilgrims mingled with the

tonsured warriors, bearded and sun darkened, wearing the

red cross upon their weather-stained surcoats kneeling

against the carved benches of the white marble church that

had been built in the very shape of the Templum Domini at

Jerusalem.

The pilgrims found that Chateau Pelerin was hostel and

almshouse, port and monastery, bank and fortress. They

had never seen anything of the kind before. And they mar

veled much at the great stables built underground, from

which hundreds of horses were led out for the knights to

ride on patrol, or the voyagers to journey down the coast.

Some of them, perhaps, went north instead, to visit rever

ently the smoke-darkened cavern where Elijah had taught

his followers under the height of Carmel. If they journeyed

on, along the coast road, they came to embattled Acre with

its great warehouses and terraced palaces where of nights

the elder men and minstrels related the saga of King Richard

and the sultan Saladin.

Upon the dusty road they met Moslems in from the desert,

sitting sidewise on the leading camels while behind them

long strings of camels swayed slowly from side to side under

heavy bales that smelled of spice and wool and sesame. Even

326 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

when the pilgrims lay at night within roadside hostels,

listening to the gentle pulse of the sea, they heard the distant

clanking of the camel bells. When they asked how the Arabs

came to be free of Christian roads, they were told that the

Templars followed a policy of peace with the Moslems, and

that they were friends with the men of the sultan of Damas

cus.

If the wayfarers ventured farther north past the sandy

peninsula of Tyre where even the cathedral was dwarfed by

the clustering monasteries they found themselves in the

shade of the pine forests of Beirut. Other travelers walked

beside them, gray friars barefoot in the dust, wandering

cheerily from village to village and sleeping with the dogs

and all the fleas or thin, stately Syrians who knew more of

the Scriptures by memory than the priests stout Turks

riding small horses and followed by women that seemed to be

animated bundles of black veils. The women walked and

carried the burdens, for a true Turk would not burden his

horse.

Italian merchants, arrogant in black velvets, rode under

parasols upheld by slaves, while behind them guarded by

armed men appeared the mules and carts bearing their

goods. Parties of Jews came by as well, their earlocks shaking

under their wide hats clamoring in loud talk when no one

was near, but walking in discreet silence past the cavalcade

of a Christian knight.

And many cavalcades of crusaders came and went in the

Holy Land during these years. Thibault of Champagne and

king of Navarre landed with his vassals, going out to the

frontier with the valiant count of Bar. The English duke,

Richard of Cornwall, followed him, and went south to rebuild

the double walls of Ascalon, after driving off the Egyptian

"A If \

Moslems.

Some of the crusaders abode at the northern headquarters

of the Hospital, MarghabTht Watcher, as the Arabs called

it. This had just been completed, and to the crusaders it

appeared a very marvel of strength,

Marghab could be seen for leagues, since it crowned the

AT THE TABLE OF THE HOSPITAL 327

summit of a solitary hill, twelve hundred feet above the sea.

Built of black basalt, upon foundations that extended far

into the ground, its towers overhung the steep slopes of the

hill. Men pointed with pride to its Great Tower, outthrust

from the end of the citadel, mightier in girth than any

other tower built by human hands. Yet below the Great

Tower were outer walls and a separate donjon. One crusader

has left this description of the master work of the Hospitalers:

We climbed to Margat, 1 a vast castle and well fortified, having a

double circuit of walls strengthened by many towers that seemed

rather to have been shaped to hold up the sky than to add to the

defense of this place for the mountain on which the castle stands

is most high, and appears like Atlas to sustain the firmament. The

slopes of the mountain are well cultivated, and the crops of its lands

amount to five hundred loads each year. Often the enemy at

tempted to plunder these rich harvests, but always in vain.

This castle held in check the Old Man of the Mountain, and the

sultan of Aleppo, so much so that in spite of the many castles they

owned, they were forced to pay to it an annual tribute of two thou

sand marks, to keep the peace. Every night, to prepare for any

eventuality and to guard against treachery, four knights and

twenty-eight soldiers mounted guard. In time of peace besides the

ordinary habitues of the place, the Hospitalers keep there a gar

rison of a thousand men, and the citadel is provisioned with all

needful things for five years.

The Arabs said that Marghab was impregnable except

to the angels. And even to the end it was never taken by

assault.

There the Hospitalers kept open house. In the evenings

after vespers a varied company gathered about the supper

tables, where the knights sat in the black habit of the order,

and the youths served them with meat and wine and fruit.

x The crusaders called it Margat, and apparently the Arabs christened it with a

name similar in sound. In this part of Syria the hillsides are terraced for cultivation.

These terraces, in the Thirteenth Century, must have been down near the base of

the mountain, because the summit is very rocky. Marghab could not have lacked

for water, because even to-day there is a well at the summit, and the ruin of a

reservoir a little way down the slope. The present writer made an examination of

the place and believes that an underground passage led from the castle to the

reservoir.

3 a8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

They were all men of gentle blood, the sons of nobles, and

they had come from so many lands that they were divided

into different "tongues * German, Italian, French, and

Provengal, English and Catalan and Spanish.

The crusaders, their guests, seated by the officers, won

dered at the talk of Eastern princes and arts for the Hos

pitalers had read, some of them, the Arab poets and the

geographer Idrisi, and the philosopher Averroes, whose

works had been banned by the Curia of Rome. They knew

of the ambition of the emperor Frederick and rather sym

pathized with him, perhaps because the Templars opposed

him.

These same Templars, the knights of the Hospital said,

had become their hereditary rivals. For one thing, the

Templars were mostly French and mostly monks, while at

the tables of the Hospital sat the younger sons of all Europe s

nobility. For another thing, circumstances had made the two

orders rival landlords in the troubles of the last generation

the old families of Outremer had disposed of the castles

and villages they could no longer maintain or guard to the

rich military orders. So the Hospitalers collected a road toll

from the bands of Templars who rode past Marghab s hills

and in their turn the Templars charged the white-cross men

a high price for the salt that was mined near Chateau Pelerin.

Then, too, the Templars were strict and stubborn, and

obedient to the bulls of Rome.

The nobility of the Hospital and the barons of Syria

had grown weary of the exactions of Rome. They were toler

ant and curious, and friendly to the new knowledge. They

discussed openly the new silver map of the world that Idrisi

was etching at the court of Palermo; they had libraries of

Arabic works forbidden by Rome. They mentioned Mu

hammad lightly, without crossing themselves, and they ar

gued deftly with the priests who came out as pilgrims

the priests who still said that the Arabs were servants of

Mahound, to be hunted down and slain.

The nobles of the Hospital had found the Arabs cultured

gentlemen, very wise in matters of politics and medicine

the Hospital, which had its first-aid work to do, took a pro-

AT THE TABLE OF THE HOSPITAL 329

fessional interest in that and much better company than

the priests who talked of war. Of necessity, the Arab amirs

and the Hospitalers fought at times, but they did not carry

the war around with them.

Gay was the talk, and strong the red wine of Cyprus.

At any hour the men at the table might be called upon to

lead a foray across the border, and they made the most of

the hours that were left to them. Their master was captive to

the sultan of Cairo, and many of their brethren who had been

sent south with the count of Champagne had come back

lying under their shields, to be buried in consecrated ground.

And the drinkers knew that their time also would come, when

the stonecutters would carve their name upon stone.

They knew the secrets of the frontier how the friendly

sultan of Damascus had returned the castles of Safed and

Belfort to the Templars to gain the pledge of their aid.

Truly, the sultan should have bethought him of the Hospital!

And they mocked the luxurious life of the nobles in Cyprus

who had the sea between them and the enemy. The men of

Cyprus had made the island safe for trade, indeed. They

stained their hair red with henna like the women aye, and

their fingernails. They had so much money that after they

had built French cathedrals in the pine forests, they could

afford to marry Venetian wives. The Venetians were licking

their chops over the island, and some day they would gulp it

down.

Meanwhile the Hospitalers had to go hunting for the As

sassins in their hills, and follow venturesome pilgrims to see

that they did not come to harm.

Always the pilgrims were glad in the great church of Beth

lehem. At home they had visited the places of many relics,

undoubtedly wonder working, and splendidly encased in

$ilver and gold. But here they were treading the ground that

the Magi had trod, and they threw themselves down to kiss

the threshold. They went forward between marble columns

golden in hue, worn at the base by the pressure of countless

bodies.

Quiet and most seemly was this place to their eyes. Above

330

THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the twined leaves of the column heads glinted the mosaic

figures of the blessed saints that seemed to be floating up

ward. The sunlight, striking through windows of painted

glass, cast a mellow glow into every corner. Tears came into

the eyes of the wanderers, beholding such beauty in the place

that was, of all places, the most joyous.

"Ave Maria, gratia plena" their lips murmured.

They looked up at the soaring arches, hearing an echo of

their prayer in the space above them. They had cast off their

shoes; they had fasted, but heavy upon them they felt the

burden of the sins of life that they had brought with them to

this church of the blessed Mary. Some of them knelt by the

white marble barrier of the choir, not daring to go on.

They who ventured behind the choir passed between two

groups of slender twisted columns; they descended a stair

worn hollow by other feet before them until they came out

within a crypt where candles burned. They saw a gold star

set in the marble paving of the crypt. Beside the star stood a

man in armor, but wearing no sword. He did not move or

speak to them as they went to kneel at the side of the crypt

that opened downward into darkness.

In this spot the Magi had knelt, when the marble flooring

had been the earth floor of a stable, and, instead of a knight

in armor, an angel had stood guard over the birth of Mary s

Son.

The pilgrims went back into the golden light of the church.

"Lattart Regina Coeli" they sang. And they rejoiced as

they sang, because no man could visit this place, of all the

places on the earth, and not feel glad. They lingered in the

long nave, touching the walls with their hands, loath to go

out across the threshold again. When the light grew dim and

the echoes quickened in the arches above them, they went

forth.

They were the last to behold the church of Bethlehem as

the hands of the crusaders had built it.

XLIV

BEAUSEANT GOES FORWARD

3T HAPPENED with the swiftness of a storm in summer.

And it was over almost before the tidings of it had gone

across the sea.

The crusaders had had some warning. For the last three

years the Moslems of Damascus Arabs of Saladin s clans

had told the Hospitalers of the new scourge that had come

out of the East. From time to time the hoof beats of the Mon

gol horses passed near Aleppo, leaving destruction in their

tracks. In the summer of 1244 there was fighting where the

Turkomans tried to turn the riders of the horde from their

hills. But the Mongols themselves did not appear then in the

Holy Land.

Instead a smaller horde, fleeing before them, swam the

Euphrates and galloped headlong down to the southern des

ert where Gaza lay. The newcomers were Kharesmians

barbaric warriors of Turkish race, only less formidable than

the Mongols. They numbered more than ten thousand and

they had all the cunning and endurance of the nomads who

once hunted around Lake Aral. They had been driven far to

the west, to the sea itself, and now they looked around for

331

332 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

new lands and spoil as a wolf pack driven forth by a forest

fire looks for fresh hunting grounds.

In their path lay Jerusalem, dismantled of its walls. To

the Kharesmians the city was no different from others, and

it offered loot for the taking.

Over the ruined ramparts surged the horsemen of the

steppe, riding down the weak defense of the Christians who

took up arms against them. So suddenly had they come up

that the army of the Temple and Hospital had not time to

reach the city although, without walls to protect them, they

could have aided it little.

No chronicler has written the story of this destruction of

the city. It is said that seven thousand Christians, women

and children with the men, died there. The church doors were

beaten in, and the altars pillaged of their sacred vessels.

Torch in hand, the Kharesmians invaded the Sepulcher,

filling their saddle bags with the silver candlesticks and gold

ornaments. They broke open the tombs of Godfrey and

Baldwin, to search for jewels and gold. They smashed the

shrines, and when they left, the Sepulcher that had been

spared during generations of warfare was wrapped in flame

and smoke.

As swiftly as they had come, the horde departed. But on

their heels the Moslems of Cairo swarmed in, and the dese

crated Jerusalem was lost to the Christians.

The mamluks of Cairo saw in the advent of the pagan clan

a dangerous but a timely weapon. An army was sent from

Egypt to join forces with the Kharesmian khan, to advance

against Damascus and the lands of the crusaders. The com

bined strength of the invaders amounted to fifteen thou

sand horsemen, under command of a one-eyed mamluk

Baibars, the Panther. But the wild Kharesmian clansmen,

fresh from the central Asia wars, were more formidable even

than the mamluks.

Warned of the approaching peril, Sultan Ismail of Damas

cus assembled his forces and appealed urgently to the Tem

plars to make common cause with him pointing out that if

the Kharesmian horde took Damascus, the Holy Land would

suffer the same fate.

BEAUSANT GOES FORWARD 333

So the small armies of the Temple and the Hospital

always in readiness to take the field rode south, with the

patriarch of Jerusalem and the barons of the Holy Land.

They went as volunteers, for no king was there to summon

them to arms, and they went with full knowledge of the odds

against them they numbered some five hundred knights of

the Temple and two hundred Hospitalers, with perhaps ten

times as many men-at-arms of the two orders, and the liege

men of the barons. They found awaiting them, under com

mand of Al Mansur of Hamah, the Moslem cavalry of

Damascus, the army of the amir of Kerak. For the first

time the black and white banner Eeauseant of the Temple

and the cross of the patriarch were ranged beside the black

banners of Damascus. The crusaders had joined forces with

the great-grandsons of Saladin.

By mutual consent they rode south to give battle before

the Kharesmians and mamluks could invade their lands.

They descended from the hills into the dry brown plain that

led to the sandy waste and the salt marshes of Gaza. And

soon their scouts were in touch with the outposts of the mam

luks. A last camp, a grooming and saddling of the chargers,

and a moment of prayer in the half light before dawn, and

they got to horse, seeking their ranks.

The crusaders formed on the right of the allied army. In

their array, the Templars held the center, with the Hospital

ers and the barons under Walter of Brienne on either side.

In this order they advanced at a foot pace without sound,

while the drums and cymbals of Al Mansur resounded on

their left.

But it was the one-eyed Panther who struck the first blow

swift as a wolf to leap at an opening. He launched the dark

mass of Kharesmian horsemen against Al Mansur, in the

center of the allies. So devastating was the onset of the war

riors of the steppes, who plied their bows with deadly effect

as they came on before using their heavy, curved swords,

that the Damascus cavalry broke and gave way before them.

And the amir of Kerak, cut off on the far flank, could hold

his ground little longer.

In their first rush the Kharesmians had swept away two

334 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

thirds of the allied army, and now they advanced with the

mamluks, with a thunder of hoofs and a thrumming of ket

tledrums, against the men of the cross. Outnumbered and

nearly cut off, the crusaders stood fast. The mailed horsemen

of the Temple heard their master s horn resound. Beauseant

was carried forward, and the knights charged, with the deep-

throated chant:

"Lord, grant us victory not to us, but to the glory of

Thy holy Name."

Closing their ranks and casting away their spears, to use

their swords the others followed the familiar b^ack and white

banner into the mass of surging horses and exulting warriors

that pressed about them.

For hours they fought at bay, a hopeless fight. Beauseant

went down, not to be lifted again. Slain was the master of the

Temple. Around the lifted cross a desperate ring of men,

ahorse and afoot, with broken mail and bloodied weapons

fought, until silence fell over the battlefield and the riders

of the steppes flung themselves from the saddles to snatch

spoil from the dead.

Walter of Brienne was captive, with the master of the

Hospital. From the plain of Gaza only thirty-three Templars

and twenty-six Hospitalers and three Teutonic Knights es

caped that night, and of the nobles only the patriarch and

the seigneur of Tyre got away.

So was fought the Battle of Gaza, that lost Jerusalem and

the south of the Holy Land beyond remedy to the pagans

from mid-Asia.

The captives were driven in triumph to Cairo, with the

heads of their dead companions hanging from their necks.

But the Panther and his horde swept on. They ravaged

Hebron, ^and passed through Bethlehem, darkening the

streets with blood and stripping the great church of Mary

of its gold and ornaments. Damascus fell before their on

slaught, and the Egyptian sultan appeared, to take posses

sion of his new conquest.

With the war at an end, the Kharesmians no longer held

together. Scattering among the Moslem lords, they became

mamluks in their turn soldier-slaves, serving new masters.

BEAUSEANT GOES FORWARD 335

Most of them found their way into Egypt, to serve the mam-

luk general Baibars, who had come from the Tatars of the

Golden Horde, bringing with him the secret of victory.

But Jerusalem lay desolate, beyond reach of the crusaders

who had lost southern Palestine. Worse, the men of the cross

were no longer able to put an army in the field. The halls of

the Temple and the Hospital were stripped of half their men,

and the women of the crusaders castles mourned their dead.

As Hattin had destroyed the chivalry of the Kingdom of

Jerusalem, the Battle of Gaza crippled the defenders of the

Holy Land. While the knights of Chateau Pelerin and Acre

made ready to defend their strongholds they had tidings

from the North.

There the Mongols had appeared, after conquering the

Aleppo region, and Bohemund V, prince of Antioch and count

of Tripoli, knowing that resistance was useless, yielded to

them, agreeing to hold his lands as the vassal of the great

khan, and to pay a yearly ransom. This done, the Mongols

withdrew without wreaking destruction.

And the crusaders, clinging to the remaining strip of coast

between Marghab and Chateau Pelerin, sent appeal to

Europe for aid, while they prepared to defend their castles.

In these years from 1244 to I!2 47> the situation in the Holy

Land had changed as completely as when Saladin had swept

over it sixty years before. The military power of the crusaders

had been shattered, but more than that, the power of the

mamluks had grown, and the Mongol conquerors had ap

peared, to remain this time close at hand in the east.

The crusaders waited in suspense while two mighty

foemen marched and counter-marched across the hills of the

Holy Land. Without the support of a great crusade from

Europe, the Christians could not move from their castles.

XLV

THE B LACK YEARS

CNXIOUSLY the crusaders waited on the coast of Syria

for word from Europe. When a new ship came in, to

Acre or Chateau P&erin, they thronged down to the

shore to hear what tidings it might bring.

At first the news was encouraging. At last a new pope

had been elected the cardinal Sinibaldo Fieschi, who took

the name of Innocent IV, Now, surely there would be peace

and understanding between these long-antagonistic sover

eigns, the pope and the emperor! With Europe trembling

after the Mongol invasion, and with Jerusalem laid waste by

the other pagans, the two heads of Christendom would put

aside their quarrel and give aid! The Teutonic Knights at

Montfort said that the German emperor Frederick had of

fered to prepare and put himself at the head of a new crusade,

to confront these barbarians. But the robed priests shook

their heads, saying that this sacrilegious blasphemer was only

scheming for his own ends.

Then came startling tidings. Innocent IV had had to flee

from Rome, in the garb of a knight, to pass through Freder

ick s lines. He had taken refuge in France, summoning a

336

THE BLACK YEARS 337

council at Lyons. The crusaders waited eagerly to hear what

the council would do.

Gloomy tidings followed. The pope had declared a new

crusade, ordering tithes to be gathered in and indulgences

offered; but he had also deposed Frederick and had called

upon the German lords to elect another emperor. And Freder

ick had cried out against the papal court, "All the waters

of the Jordan will not wash away their thirst for power!"

Months passed, and the advance guard of the crusade did

not appear. Yet the tithes were gathered in, and taxes in

creased, and armed men were seen on all the roads of Europe.

Strange things were coming to pass, the travelers said.

Again the holy Father and the great emperor were at war, stir

ring up the men of the hamlets to take sides, seizing cities, and

thundering one against the other. Men who would have come

out to Syria found no ships to carry them for the Italian

merchants were on the side of the Church or the empire.

And throngs were taking refuge in convents and monaster

ies to escape the misery of the struggle that demanded taxes

of money from them, and took their goods, and menaced

them with purgatory or torture if they did not enlist in this

war of the pope and the emperor that stretched its arms into

every corner of the world. Heretics had been burned before

the Cathedral of Milan, and a priest had been seen standing

in the streets of Rome selling indulgences to crusaders who

passed through the city, relieving them of their vows to go

on crusade.

And weary souls by thousands were following after the

begging friars and the preaching friars who wandered through

the country, because it was better to live like the animals

under forest and sky and to leave their huts and fields than

to be burdened with the war. One man said he had seen thirty

heretics, women and men, burned before St. Mary s in Rome.

Others related that the churches were sending out judges

to investigate rumors of unbelief and heresy. These were

called inquisitors, and they were putting common people

and lords alike to the inquisition. It was whispered that Fred

erick had sought for peace, but Innocent would have none

of it because he was determined to crush Frederick, so that

338 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

he could raise the papacy over the ruins of the empire. . . .

Years passed, and the struggle grew more intense. No aid

came to Jerusalem, because all Christendom was divided

in the war, and no heed was paid to the few crusaders who

clung to the coast beyond the sea.

Innocent IV cast against Frederick all the manifold powers

of the Church. The benevolences of Scandinavian villages

and the taxes upon the nobles of Rome alike went to

strengthen the papal forces. From pulpit and monastery

doors, from legate and from canon, issued denunciation

of the emperor. Crusaders crosses were given to those who

served the papal side; those who opposed it were branded as

heretics.

Innocent wrote in secret to bishops in Germany, to check

the preaching of a general crusade while continuing to exhort

men to take up arms against the emperor. He ordered Frisian

crusaders held in Germany, when they were on their way to

the East. In May, 1249, he ordered William van Eyck to send

revenues collected for the Holy Land to the treasurers of

Rome. He spoke of Frederick as the great dragon who must

be overthrown before peace could be restored to Christen

dom, even while he refused the emperor s proffers of peace.

His agents turned Frederick s son against him.

The great emperor found himself striving against the re

sources of all Europe, collected through the demands of the

Church. Even in German towns tithes were gathered, to be

used against him. And Germany, weary of the Italian con

flict, was splitting up into factions and deserting him.

But more terrible than this was the ceaseless propaganda

that turned against him all the prejudices of Christians.

The masses of them began to look upon him with horror as

he went about among his soldiers; the bells of the churches

ceased ringing when he entered the towns. All his wit could

not do away with the black anger that was growing against

him in the hearts of men. He was outcast, accursed.

The faces of his officers became somber. Even in Palermo,

in the gardens of the palace, there was no respite. He was old,

now, and given to brooding.

THE BLACK YEARS 339

But he did not yield. In the beginning of Yule-tide, of the

year 1250, he died in the arms of his bastard son while the

Moslem archers of his guard stood about the chamber.

"The heavens are glad, and the earth rejoices!" cried

Innocent when the tidings reached him that the greatest of

the Hohenstaufen no longer opposed his will. In the next

years Frederick s son Conrad and his son were hunted from

their lands by the papal allies, until with fire and sword and

anathema every vestige of the Hohenstaufen was obliterated.

So did the Father of the Church abandon the crusaders, while he took

in his hand a sword to destroy his enemy.

But the fruits of victory turned bitter in the tasting. By

resorting to arms and refusing peace to his adversary,

Innocent had lost much of the allegiance of the common

people. The heavy taxes burdened them, and the general

disorder broke down old ties. Unrest grew, and took head.

The Italian cities, weary of the war, formed independent

communes and would no longer hear of Roman rule. Florence

shut its gates against the papal legates.

The French and English kings drew more apart from Rome

and the demands of the Curia. It was openly said that the

priests of Rome had pocketed the monies collected for the

last crusades, and men began to point in wonder and scorn

at the luxury of the papal court paid for by benevolences.

"By divers wiles the Roman Curia" said Matthew of

Paris, "strove to take their property from the simple people

of God, seeking nothing but their gold and silver/

And the German minstrel Walter von der Vogelweide made

a song out of it:

Little i methinksj of all this silver in God s cause is spent:

To part with a great treasure, priests are ill-content.

When Innocent at length would have gone about the

preaching of a Jerusalem crusade, there were murmurs of

anger and shrugs of indifference. In England men banded

together to protest against the levying of tithes for the

crusade. Even when Innocent offered indulgence of forty

340 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

days to be granted to all who would listen to a sermon on the

holy war, men turned aside. At Ratisbon the German burgh

ers, exhausted by the great war of the empire and the papacy,

announced that they would put to death anyone found wear

ing a cross upon his garments.

In the beginning, they said the golden pope Urban had

preached the first crusade to set Jerusalem free, and now

Innocent had declared a crusade against his own enemies.

Long ago the blessed Hildebrand had denounced the emperor

who had wished to make his own nobles churchmen; and

now Innocent wished to make his churchmen nobles.

The popes had called for the crusades, men exclaimed, and

they had gathered in money from the crusades money and

great power. But who had given an accounting of the money?

And who had answered for the defeats ?

In the hopeless years that followed, common people ceased

to trust in the old ideals. Instead of looking to Rome as the

seat of imperial power, they beheld the miasma of it, the fetid

courtyards of the feudal nobles, the assassinations, the

soul-sickness, the ceaseless wrangling over money that made

the once-proud city a spot of contamination for the Church

within it. After the last Hohenstaufen, they ceased to hope

for a superhuman emperor. No longer did they trust in the

imperium of the popes.

As plague and starvation had wrought upon the multitudes

just before the first crusade, the evils of the black years

stirred men anew. The slaughter of heretics, the fanaticism

of the wandering friars seeking the nepenthe of poverty, the

secret questioning of the inquisitors of the papal churches,

the terror that followed the advent of the Mongols, and the

exhaustion that came after the struggle between the emperor

and the papacy all these excited the common men, driving

them forth from their homes, as the children had been driven

forth by suffering and a craving for peace fifty years before.

In the winter-bound forests, groups of haggard people

wandered, crying like wolves, while the wolf packs preyed

upon deserted villages. Bands of men ran along the roads in a

kind of hopeless exultation. They abandoned churches to

seek the most fervent of the friars.

THE BLACK YEARS 341

A strange frenzy came upon the sufferers that winter.

The dance of death was beheld again in the world. Multitudes

rose up in the cities, to beat at the closed doors of the

churches.

"Peace peace!" they cried, "O Lord, give us Thy peace."

Some of them took refuge in the monasteries, eager for the

scourging and fasting that would torment their bodies in

the hope of calming the agony in their minds. Men called

them Flagellants.

Aged hermits were seen issuing from their cells and stum

bling upon weak legs toward the gatherings of the self-

tormentors. Over the frozen roads throngs marched at night,

barefoot, while priests among them raised high the crucifix.

From the forests emerged charcoal burners and woodcutters

and cowherds, stripping the upper garments from their gaunt

bodies men called them Pastorals.

Naked to the waist, with sacks thrown over their heads,

these men and women marched carrying lighted tapers in

their hands. Some of them flogged themselves as they went,

screaming with pain. Others flung up their arms toward the

dark sky, or cast themselves on the ground.

At times these marching bands closed around the churches

and sang the Black Mass. They broke into the prisons and

loosed thieves and condemned men. Again, they ran toward

the churches as if drawn by an irresistible power, and knelt

weeping before the altars.

They were marching on Rome. No one knew what drove

them on, or what they would do. They made their way

toward the great city, and when they swarmed through the

gates even the mobs of Rome were appalled. Terror reigned

in the city, and hardened men who had mocked all holy

things were struck by fear and hastened forth to scourge

themselves and bear their candles in the procession.

Thereafter, the popes had to flee from Rome to Avignon

for their long exile.

And out of the suffering and the wrongs of these genera

tions the seeds of the Reformation were sown.

The mills of fate had ground exceeding small and sure.

XLVI

THE KING S SHIP

^NE man had cometo the rescueof the Holy Land during

these dark years. He was Louis, king of France

that stubborn and debonair prince better known to

history as St. Louis.

The first day of June, 1249, when Frederick was making his

last stand against the papal power and the Flagellants and

Pastorals and the friars of Christendom were forming their

processions carrying black crosses, a great ship bearing the

crimson oriflamme ploughed through a tranquil sea, heading

south from Cyprus toward the flat shore of Egypt.

The ship, a galleass, bore within it a large and varied

company. Louis and his queen, Marguerite of Provence,

occupied the cabin of the after castle a space filled with

wooden chests and a sleeping pallet. Louis, who towered a

head above his courtiers, had to stoop and bend his knees to

enter it. Below this state cabin were cubicles filled with the

chests of the king s treasure and gear with guardsmen and

Marguerite s ladies.

On deck, rugs and canopies afforded the voyagers shade

and freedom of movement. By the mainmast an altar had

been erected, and the seamen had seen to it that a carved

34*

THE KING S SHIP 343

figure of St. Nicholas, patron of wayfarers, hung upon the

mast. From the after hatch smoke drifted up from the kit

chens, and the people on deck heard the clatter of pot lids

mingled with the clamor of the chickens and the pigs waiting

their turn for the pot.

Around the butt of the foremast clustered the passengers

who had marketing to do. Here the inevitable Armenians

had stacked their baskets of fruit with jars of olive oil and

piles of hard biscuit, rhubarb and vinegar and salt. They

had choicer things as well bits of oriental glass, rolls of

silk, and peacock feathers to catch the eyes of the women

pilgrims.

Beneath their feet on the main deck were the stables of the

war horses, and the cattle that provided both milk and meat

for the voyagers. Below the livestock in semi-darkness the

naked bodies of slaves moved back and forth monotonously

upon the long benches, swinging the heavy oars of the gal

leass, their hides smarting with salt cuts and maggots. But

each man guarded, under his bench, some small stock-in-

trade to be bartered at Damietta when he should be allowed

on shore. In the stench of sweat and bilge they breathed and

labored, their feet braced against timbers above the sand that

served as ballast and being cooled by the bilge water

cellar for the wine kegs of the great ship.

The weather held fair, and this was well. A storm, or even

a heavy swell, meant suffering for tlife men and beasts alike;

at such times the market place was deserted, the kitchens

became an inferno, and the passengers knelt in prayer to

St. Nicholas. But now the square sails painted with a crimson

cross flapped against the mast, or snapped out in a puff

of wind; gulls screamed round the mastheads, and flying

fish glittered fleetingly above the surface of the sea.

The galleass forged ahead with its king and its shrine and

its throngs of expectant souls peering into the haze of the

horizon for a sight of Egypt s shore. On either hand, as far

as the eye could see, other sails bore it company.

"A pleasant sight/ observed the young lord of Joinville,

"for it seemed as if the whole sea were covered with cloth,

from the great quantity of sails."

344 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

John, lord of Joinville and high seneschal of Champagne,

had an eager interest in everything that went on in the fleet

He shared one of the great ships with a knight of the Brienne

family. He admired very much a long galley painted with

shields of arms belonging to John of Ibelin, count of Jaffa.

Joinville himself was young and light of purse, and had not

been able to pay the travel expenses of his nine knights until

Louis took him into the royal pay and favor.

Like the other nobles and all the chivalry of France was

here upon the fleet with the king Joinville had entered upon

the crusade at the express wish of his sovereign. Like Louis,

he had donned a pilgrim s mantle, had paid all his debts at

home and borrowed what he could for the venture. Unlike

the king, the young knight had grieved frankly when he lost

sight of his lands and his wife. Joinville had in him a boyish

humor, and a blunt honesty of tongue that pleased Louis.

"I must say/ Joinville remarked once, "that he is a great

fool who shall put himself in danger of the sea having any

mortal sin on his conscience for when he goes to sleep in

the evening he knows not if in the morning he may find

himself under the sea."

"Better would it be/ the king observed, "to become a

leper than to have the guilt of a mortal sin."

"Thirty deadly sins would I rather commit/ the knight

said frankly, "than be a leper."

Louis shook his head in disapproval. The levity of his

nobles always troubled him, and a profane word angered

him. He had the face of a blond angel and the large un

troubled eyes of a child. He liked to clothe his tall, stooped

figure in somber camelet and woolen surcoat a friar s

habit would have liked him better. In fact he did carry a

pilgrim s staff and scrip at times, to the discomfort of his

officers. At table he ate patiently whatever was set before

him and turned the talk upon the teachings of the Fathers

when Joinville and the other courtiers would fain have jested

oHighter matters. Since the age of twelve he was now

thirty-fourhe had been king of France, and his marriage

to Marguerite had been a wedding of boyhood and girlhood.

The gentle tyranny of her husband s ideals weighed upon

THE KING S SHIP 345

the dark and willful girl of Provence. Louis argued gravely

that bright garments ill became his wife. Marguerite cher

ished her embroidered satins, but she did not wear them upon

the ship. When Louis once proposed that he should enter a

monastery and she should go to a nunnery, Marguerite

convinced him that they could do more good in the world

outside the cloister.

She had to contend as well with the jealousy of the queen

mother, the Queen Blanche, who was so watchful of Louis.

For the queen dowager [Joinville wrote] would not suffer her son

to accompany his lady, and prevented it as much as lay in her

power. When the king traveled through his lands with the twain,

Queen Blanche had him separated from his queen, and they were

never lodged in the same house. It happened one day while the

court lingered at Pontoise, that the king was lodged in the storey

above the apartments of his queen. He had given orders to the

ushers of his chamber that whenever he should go to lie with his

queen, and his mother was seen coming to his chambers or the

queen s, to beat the dogs until they cried out and thus gave warn

ing. Now one day Queen Blanche went to the queen s chamber,

whither her son had gone to comfort his lady for she was in danger

of death from a bad delivery. His mother, perceiving him, took

him by the hand and said,

"Come along you will do no good here."

Queen Margaret, seeing that she was to be separated from her

husband, cried aloud:

"Alas will you not allow me to be with my lord, neither when I

am alive, nor if I am dying ?"

Not until they fared forth on this ship did Marguerite

feel that she had her husband to herself although both she

and Blanche had dreaded the crusade. Louis had called for

the cross once when the strange illness, the fits of weakness

that came and went, was upon him. He had taken oath to do

battle for Jerusalem, and all the pleading of the women could

not turn him from his purpose.

To his devout and straightforward mind, the duty to

journey to the East and redeem Jerusalem was clear. 1

x He sailed to Egypt because his military advisers assured him that it was neces-,

sary to capture Cairo in order to move on Jerusalem.

346 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

He had tried vainly to make peace between pope and em

peror at the council of Lyons, and he had embarked finally in

spite of the opposition of both of them Frederick s open

ridicule, and Innocent s secret intrigue. While the pope re

strained crusaders in Italy from joining Louis, the emperor

wrote to the Egyptian sultan of his coming, and urged the

podesta of Genoa to delay outfitting the fleet, while he

prophesied the failure of the crusade.

But Louis of France had all the persistence of a friar and

all the ardor of the chivalry that was bred in the bones and

blood of him. And the proof of it was this fleet of eighteen

hundred sails moving over the quiet sea. He had the utter

faith of a Godfrey of Bouillon the faith that sometimes

works miracles.

And for once a great crusade was under a single command;

because even the legate of the papal court could not swerve

Louis from his course.

ST. LOUIS

King of France and leader of two crusades.

COURTESY OF MUS^E I,A VIGRRIE

ST. LOUIS CAPTIVE

St. Louis, captive of the Mamluks, offered the

Sultanate of Egypt.

FROM THE FRESCO BY CAB AN EL

XLVII

THE MIRACLE

the king s ship anchored off the beach of Da-

mietta, it seemed to the experienced Templars and

Syrian barons that a kindly providence watched over

the tall person of the first seigneur of France. Louis scanned

the shore his first sight of the lands of Islam and asked

who were the horsemen drawn up beyond the beach,

"Sire/ he was told, "they are Moslems/

Hearing this, Louis would have none of the advice of his

counselors who urged him to wait until the rest of the ships

came up. He ordered the oriflamme to be landed, and the

knights climbed down into the smaller galleys, running them

up on the beach and leaping out waist deep in the water.

The tall king stood with them when they beat off the charges

of the Moslem cavalry, forming in ranks with the points of

their shields in the sand and their lances braced against the

ground, Joinville heard the barons restrain Louis from riding

a course against the infidels alone.

The horses were landed, the chivalry mounted, the scarlet

banner of the oriflamme lifted, and Louis advanced to find

the shore deserted and the gates of Damietta standing open.

Even the French knights, who were wont to go forward first

347

34 8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

and investigate afterward, scented a trap in this. Scouts rode

into the gates and returned presently to report the houses

of Damietta empty, the streets littered, and only fugitives

to be seen, while the storehouses of the bazaars were burning.

The Moslem army and the garrison of Damietta had disap

peared. 1 The bridges of boats leading inland over the canals

were intact.

Louis commanded the prelates to sing a Te Deum, and

carried the oriflamme into the city that had withstood a

previous crusade for a year. It seemed to him that this was no

less than a manifestation of divine favor, but he was troubled

when the nobles plunged into looting and seized palaces for

their quarters.

"You could not throw a stone," he assured Joinville, "from

my house without striking a brothel kept by my attendants."

With Damietta thus miraculously placed in his hands,

Louis curbed the revelry of his vassals and waited until the

season of floods had passed. Then he called a council to dis

cuss what should next be done. Louis placed his trust alto

gether in providence; but he had passed many years in the

camp of war, and he relied upon the advice of his captains.

They were all at the council his three mighty brothers,

Alphonse of Poitiers and the reckless Robert, count of Artois,

and the silent Charles of Anjou, who had a giant s strength in

his limbs, who brooded over ambitions of his own, and slept

hardly at all. Daring soldiers sat beside them De Beaujeu,

constable of France, De Sonnac, master of the Temple, and

William Longsword, earl of Salisbury, leader of the English

swords. They were men of proved courage, victors in tourna

ment and battlefield, the very paladins of French chivalry.

The count of Artois would hear of nothing but an advance

on Cairo, where the Moslem army waited. "If you would

slay the snake," he cried, "strike first at the head."

The Moslems lost Damietta needlessly, by a sudden panic. The amir Fakhr

ad Din in command of the supporting army decided to withdraw from the shore

toward Cairo. Disturbed by this retreat, the officers of the Kanana clan, the gar

rison of ^the city, hastened to follow him after burning the arsenal, and a general

panic seized Damietta. The common soldiery and inhabitants fled from the walls,

leaving the gates open and all the bridges standing. The sultan at Cairo blamed

Fakhr ad Din severely and had fifty-one officers of the garrison strangled

THE MIRACLE 349

Other warier spirits argued for possession of the coast and

the capture of Alexandria. De Sonnac and the Longsword,

who were experienced in the warfare of the East, held their

peace. The opportunity was fair indeed they had 2,0,000

horse and 40,000 foot, fit and well armed. And the French

fought best in attack. Moreover, rumors had reached them

of the death of the sultan in Cairo and the disorder of the

Moslem army.

In fact it seemed to them as if fate had placed them in the

exact position of the first Egyptian crusade, when Brienne

and Pelagius had moved upon the city thirty years before.

But this time they had been careful to wait until Father Nile

had subsided.

Louis meditated and agreed with the opinion of his brother,

Robert, count of Artois.

So, leaving a strong garrison in Damietta, and placing

Queen Marguerite and the French noblewomen upon the

ships in the river, so that they should be secure from harm,

the army of France followed the oriflamme up the Nile.

They took the road of the other crusade, and the Moslems

again awaited the invaders at the fortified camp of Mansura

above the branch of the Nile.

Again the crusaders tents were pitched at the barrier of

gray water the slender barrier that must be bridged before

Mansura within sight of the barracks of the mamluks across

the river. The conditions, however, were not the same as

before. Louis had the greater strength in men; his armored

knights had been victorious in the skirmishing upon the road.

If he could throw his army across the river in good array,

the disordered mamluks could not stand against him.

He had only three obstacles to contend with the superior

battle craft of the professional Moslem soldiery, and their

war engines, and the river itself.

For weeks these three obstacles held back the oriflamme.

The French set to work to build a mole out into the river,

to effect a crossing. By wooden sheds and mighty stone

casters that they called chat-castels they protected the men at

work upon the mole.

But the, Moslems, while they dug away the bank on their

350 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

side opposite the mole, wrought havoc among the French

engines with their fire casters. It was Joinville s first sight of

the Greek fire, and he dreaded it mightily.

This Greek fire [he said] was like a great keg with a tail as

long as a spear. The noise it made was like thunder, and it re

sembled a dragon of fire flying through the air. At night it gave

so great a light that we could see objects in our camp as clearly

as in the day.

Joinville had reason to dread the flying fire that could not

be put out, even when it ran like an angry serpent along the

ground. He was on guard over the French engines in the night

and if the knights of the guard withdrew from the engines

they would be disgraced, while if they remained at their

posts within the great wooden machines they might well be

burned alive. Every time the Moslems shot a projectile over

the river he trembled. The French piled earth around the

engines and placed crossbowmen on the end of the mole be

hind a barricade to harass the Moslems; but in spite of their

efforts the mamluk engineers destroyed the king s machines

by a volley of projectiles launched at the same instant. It

happened during the day, when Joinville was off duty.

The count of Anjou was almost mad at seeing this [he said]

for the engines were under his guard. He wanted to throw him

self into the fire, while I and my knights gave thanks to God,

for if this attack had come in the night we must all have been

burned.

Louis had timbers brought up from the ships dismantling

a great part of his fleet to do so and the engines rebuilt.

To show that no blame attached to the count of Anjou, he

placed them again under his brother s command during the

day, and again the Moslems destroyed them first clearing

away the French soldiers by a barrage of missiles and arrows.

The feelings of the outraged lord of Anjou are not related,

but Joinville and his knights rejoiced frankly in their second

escape.

Then Louis called a council, and the engines were heard of

THE MIRACLE 351

no more. The Moslems had proved more than a match for the

French engineers, but De Beaujeu and the Templars had

hit upon another way of getting across the river. They had

found an Arab who swore that he would lead them to a ford

below the town of Mansura where mounted men could safely

gain the other bank. It was decided to make the attempt.

Meanwhile in Cairo there was whispering and fear. Sultan

Ayub, the grim and solitary, was no longer to be seen. He

had been the friend of the Prankish emperor Frederick; he

had tamed the Kharesmians; he had held the White Slaves

of the River reined in; for long he had been ailing, and now

his hour had come and he no longer appeared in divan or

garden court. The whispers said that he had died, but what

proof was to be had?

The mamluk lords still dismounted in his courtyards to go

into the Presence and receive their orders. Petitions were still

sent in, and official papers came forth signed. The Great

Palace held fast to its secret in this time of stress.

The lords of the mamluks knew, and the black eunuchs of

the sultan s chambers knew, and the Master of the House

hold knew but the mobs of Cairo did not: that the sultan

lay in his tomb, and a young slave girl sat in his sitting place.

She was Shadjar ad Darr Pearl Spray and she gave the

orders to the veteran mamluks, to Ai Beg the Kurd and to

one-eyed Baibars the Panther. She signed the official acts,

which were sealed with Ayub s seal. She smiled at the whis

pering, and cajoled the officers and filled the slaves of the

palace with dread of her anger.

She played at being a king, barkening to all the currents

of intrigue that filled the bazaars of Cairo. And by her wit

and daring she kept the palace quiet while the war went on

against the Franks. Ai Beg wooed her, and she promised to

wed him; Baibars watched her intently with his one good eye,

but she would not reveal to the Panther what she had said

to the Kurd. She gathered taxes and sold jewels secretly

to buy grain for the mamluks she matched treachery with

deeper guile, and before long the whispers greeted her, queen

of the Moslems.

THE FLAME OF ISLAM

In spite of the Prophet who had cried that a land ruled by

a woman was accursed, Pearl Spray ruled Cairo. No woman

since the Prophet s wife had ever held dominion over Mos

lems, but Pearl Spray ruled.

She could not go forth into the public gaze, of course, and

the French knights at Mansura dreamed of nothing less than

that they were making war upon a girl. Behind the screen of

the harim Pearl Spray sat with smooth brow, her henna-

stained fingers playing with documents of state and her

brown eyes meditative. Should the mamluks gain a victory

over the Nazarene knights, she might become indeed queen

of Egypt should her mamluks be overthrown, she would be

cast aside, like a girl slave who has lost her beauty.

So she waited until the day in February when a messenger

pigeon was caught at the Nasr gate and the message cried

at the palace doors, "Woe to Islam! The Franks are across

the river. They have slain Fakhr ad Din and have raised

their standards in the Moslem camp."

XLVIII

SHROVE TUESDAY S BATTLE

> EFORE dawn that day St. Louis and the peers of France

were in the saddle, full armed. They left the dark

camp under command of the duke of Burgundy and

the Syrian knights, and with De Beaujeu and the Arab

guide leading the Templars of the van, they trotted off

into the mist to seek the ford. With them went the bulk of

the cavalry the count of Artois with his knights treading

close on the heels of the Templars, along the slippery clay

bank of the river, and a regiment of horse archers following.

The king himself took command of the main body of the

attacking column.

They had agreed that the Templars and the count of

Artois were to advance across the ford, and scatter whatever

Moslems might be encountered on the other bank. Then they

were to hold their ground until the main force of the cavalry

with the king could cross .the ford and form in ranks. After

that they were to press on toward Mansura, while the in

fantry, left in the camp, worked to finish the mole and gain

contact with the cavalry at the town.

Such was the plan. And as at Damietta, fortune favored

353

354

THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Louis. The Arab had not lied. Mist still covered the river

when the leading horses splashed into the current, wading

through the muddy water that had concealed the ford from

them until now.

Not until the Templars had emerged on the far bank were

they seen by the Moslem outpost at that end of the ford.

Before the onset of the knights the Moslems only several

hundred strong broke and fled. So the Templars held the

bank, and the men of Artois hastened across with the English

under the Longsword. Some fourteen hundred horsemen

were now on the Moslem bank.

Then Robert of Artois acted on his own account. Seeing

the Moslem outposts fleeing toward the gardens of Mansura,

he gave order to his followers to go past the Templars and

pursue.

"Forward!" he cried. "Forward!"

His knights echoed the cry, when De Sonnac, master of

the Temple, rode up and grasped at his rein. "My lord," he

remonstrated, "bethink thee of the king s command! We

must hold to our ranks."

"Then abide where thou wilt," the French count exclaimed,

"but I shall not hold back from the enemy."

"My lord," said Longsword, the English earl, "the host

of the enemy lies yonder, and if we ride on, I warrant we

shall not ride back again."

The count s hot temper flamed. "Your crop-tailed English

are valiant laggards," he gibed.

The insult proved too much for the better sense of the earl

of Salisbury.

"No man may say," he retorted grimly, "that I dare not

set my foot where he will go!"

He called to his men, and De Sonnac at the same instant

ordered the Templars to advance. With the rash count of

Artois and the French knights leading, they all galloped

upon the Moslem tents and the streets of Mansura. And as

the other contingents of crusaders scrambled up the bank,

they hastened after the first comers, who by now were spread

across the plain in a headlong charge without formation

French, Templars, and English all striving to lead the way

SHROVE TUESDAY S BATTLE 355

into the Moslem tents. It was a very gallant and disastrous

charge.

For an hour it swept everything before it. In the town the

mamluks, swarming from their barracks, had no time to

draw up in ranks. Some of them mounted and fled, others

took refuge in the buildings. The amir, Fakhr ad Din, ran

from a bath house where a barber had been dyeing his beard,

and got to horse scantily clad. A group of crusaders bore down

upon him and killed him.

The charge slowed up in the avenues of tents from which

the Moslem archers were sending their shafts. Detachments

of the crusaders forced their way through the alleys of Man-

sura at the heels of the retreating mamluks and galloped on,

along the road toward Cairo. But the bulk of the cavalry

found its path blocked in the town, where the heavily armed

knights urged their powerful chargers through narrow alleys

that ended in blind walls or courtyards filled with aroused

Moslems. Above their heads and beyond reach of their spears

the swarthy mamluks appeared on the flat roofs of the houses,

launching crossbow bolts and javelins at them. Rocks and

massive jars dropped from above split the shields of the

knights and crushed in their helmets, while arrows took toll

of their horses. They had no infantry with them, and they

dared not dismount. They gathered into stubborn groups,

separated in the streets, and fought hand to hand against the

mamluks who knew every corner and gateway of the ^ town.

True to his word, William Longsword, earl of Salisbury,

pressed on as long as he could carve a way for himself, and

was slain with his men. The Templars held their ground

valiantly against odds, and without thought of retreat. Three

hundred of them perished in the alleys of Mansura with

almost all of the mounted archers.

Meanwhile the horsemen of the count of Poitiers had joined

in the fighting that extended over the plain beyond the town

and the camp. The battle became a kaleidoscope of individual

conflicts, one group hurling itself against another, with men

separated from their standards. Into this mlee the one-

eyed Panther hurled himself, coming up with his mamluks

who were known as the White Slaves of the River.

356 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

His counter-attack was in time to cut off the French

knights who were riding back from their pursuit up the

Cairo road. Some of them managed to reach Mansura again,

but could not pass through the town. Surrounded by Mos

lems, the count of Artois was slain, with the lord of Coucy.

Joinville, it seems, had followed the first wave of the at

tack. What befell him and the king of France he relates in

his own words 1 :

It chanced that my knights and I had passed quite through the

army of the Saracens, and saw here and there parties of them

about six thousand in all who had abandoned their quarters and

had advanced into the plain. On seeing that we were separated

from the main body, they attacked us boldly and slew Sir Hugues

de Trichatel, who bore the banner of my company. They also

made prisoner Sir Raoul de Wanon, whom they struck to the

ground. As they were carrying him off, we recognized him and

spurred our horses to hasten to his assistance. The Turks gave me

such heavy blows that my horse could not stand up under them

and fell to his knees, throwing me over his head.

I quickly pulled my shield over my breast and picked up my

sword, while the lord Errart d Esmeray whose soul may God

receive in mercy came toward me. He also had been struck from

his horse by the enemy. We went off together toward an old ruined

house to await the coming of the king, and as we did so I managed

to recover my horse.

As we were going toward the house, a large band of Turks came

upon us at the gallop; but they turned aside to a party of our men

close by. In passing, they struck me to the ground and snatched

my shield over my neck, and galloped over me, thinking that I

was dead and indeed I was very nearly so.

When they had gone my companion, Sir Errart, raised me up,

and we reached the walls of the ruined house. There we found Sir

Hugues d Escosse, Sir Ferreys de Loppey, Sir Regnault de Menon-

court, and several others, and there also the Turks came from all

sides to attack us. Some of them forced their way into the walls,

and thrust at us with their spears while my knights gave me my

horse which I took by the rein, lest he run away again.

When this book was written in Rome, the author could not obtain any text of

Joinville except the early translation in Bohn s Chronicles of the Crusades. He

edited and condensed this translation, and has since corrected the narrative from

De Wailly s edition of the medieval French of Joinville s chronicle.

SHROVE TUESDAY S BATTLE 357

Sir Hugues d Escosse was desperately hurt, having three lance

wounds in the face and body. Sir Raoul and Sir Ferreys were also

badly wounded in their shoulders, so that the blood spouted from

them like wine from a tun that is tapped. Sir Errart had been struck

in the face by a sword which had cut off his nose, so that it hung

down over his mouth.

"Sir," he said to me, "if I did not think you might believe that I

did it to save myself, I would go to my lord of Anjou, whom I see in

the plain, and beg him to hasten to your aid."

"You will honor and pleasure me, Sir Errart," I replied, "if you

go and seek aid for our lives for your own is also in great peril."

And I said sooth, since he died a little later of the wound he had.

All agreed that he should seek assistance, and he galloped toward

the count of Anjou. There was a great lord with the count, who

wished to hold him back from us, but the good Charles would not

listen. With his men following he galloped toward us, and the

Saracens drew off when they saw him.

A little after this I saw the king. He came up with all his attend

ants, in a clamor of trumpets. He halted on a rise of ground to say

something to his men-at-arms, and I assure you I never beheld so

handsome a man under arms. He towered shoulder high above his

company, and his gilded helm was crested with two fleur-de-lys,

and in his hand he bore a long German sword. At the sight of him

my knights and I, all wounded as we were, became impatient to

join the battle again with him. An esquire brought up one of my

Flemish war horses, and I was soon mounted and at the side of the

king whom I found attended by that experienced man, Sir John de

Valeri. Sir John advised him seeing that the king desired to enter

the midst of the fightingto make for the river on the right, where

he might be supported by the duke of Burgundy and the army that

had been left at the camp and where his men might have water

to drink, for the heat was very great. 1

As we were doing this, Sir Humbert de Beaujeu, constable of

France, came up and told the king that his brother, the count

d Artois, was hard pressed in a house at Mansura, and entreated

the king to go to his aid.

"Spur forward, Constable," cried the king, "and I will follow

you close."

x The French cavalry, which was all across the ford by now, had made a half

circle to reach Mansura, so it was now opposite its own camp and the mole that the

infantry was trying to throw across the last gap of the river, to advance to the aid

of the cavalry.

358 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

All of us now galloped straight to Mansura into the midst of the

Turkish army, where we were separated from each other at once

by the greater numbers of the enemy. I kept with the constable, and

soon a sergeant came to him, saying that the king was surrounded

by Turks and in great danger. Amazed and fearful for the king, we

looked around and beheld hundreds of the Turks between us and

him and we were only six in all. I said to the constable that we

could never make our way through them we must circle round

them. This we did, taking to a deep ditch by the road, so the Sara

cens who were occupied with the king s followers did not see us.

Perhaps they took us for some of their men.

We came out of the ditch at the river and saw that the king had

retired hither, the Saracens pressing after him. Here the Saracens

were striking with mace and sword, until our plight became miser

able indeed since some of our men tried to swim their horses over

the river toward the duke of Burgundy, but the horses were worn

out, and we saw shields, horses and men go down into the water.

You must believe me when I say that the good king performed

that day the most gallant deeds that I ever saw in any battle.

Wherever he saw his men distressed he forced himself in and gave

such blows with battle ax and sword, it was wonderful to behold.

A small bridge was close at hand, and I said to the constable that

we would guard it, so that the king might not be attacked from

this side. And we did so.

After some little time the count Peter of Brittany came to us as

we were guarding this bridge. The count was mounted on a short

but strong horse, and the reins had been cut through and destroyed,

so that he was forced to hold himself by his two hands round the

pommel of his saddle, so that he should not fall off in the path of

the Turks who were close behind him. He had been wounded

in the face and the blood came out of his mouth like water. He did

not, however, seem much afraid, for he turned his head frequently

and mocked the Turks.

"Ho!" he cried to us. "By God, have you seen these attendants

of mine?"

The constable told me to defend this bridge and not on any

account to quit it, while he went to seek for succor. I was sitting

quietly there on my horse, having my cousin Sir Jean de Soissons

on my right and Sir Pierre de Nouilly on my left hand, when a Turk

galloped up from where the king was, and struck Sir Pierre so

heavy a blow upon the back with his battle ax that it flung him

across the neck of his horse. Then the Turk crossed the bridge to his

SHROVE TUESDAY S BATTLE 359

own people, hoping that we would abandon our post and follow

him, so his companions might gain the bridge.

But we would not quit our post. In front of us were two of the

king s heralds, Guillaume de Bron and Jean de Gaymaches.

Against them the Turks led a rabble on foot, who pelted the

twain with large stones. At last they brought up a villainous 1

Turk who thrice flung Greek fire at them, setting the tabard of

Guillaume de Bron on fire. Once Guillaume de Bron caught the

pot of Greek fire on his shield, and good need had he for if the

flames had caught his clothing he must have been burned.

The stones and arrows of the Turks which missed the sergeants

hit us. Luckily I found on the ground near me a quilted coat of

coarse cloth that had belonged to a Saracen, and by turning the

opening inward I made of it a kind of shield which was of great

service to me. For I was only wounded in five places, while my

horse was hurt in fifteen. Soon after, one of my vassals of Joinville

brought me a banner with my arms on it and a lance head of which

I was in need. Then, when the Turkish villains pressed upon the

two heralds, we charged them, bearing the banner, and put them to

flight.

When we were returning to our post at the bridge, the good count

De Soissons rallied me about chasing such peasants. "Seneschal,

let the rabble brawl and bray," he said, "but by the Cresse Dieu,

you and I shall yet talk over this day s adventures in the chambers

of our ladies."

Toward sunset the constable returned, bringing with him some

of the king s crossbowmen on foot. They drew up in front of us,

while we horsemen dismounted behind them, and the Saracens

went away when they saw the crossbows. The constable then said

to me, "Seneschal, it is well enough here. Go off to the king and do

not leave him until he dismounts in his pavilion."

So I went to the king at the same moment Sir Jean de Valeri

came up. The king then took the road to return to his pavilion, 2

x The Christian knights had always held the use of Greek fire and projectiles to

be infamous. In this generation of St. Louis, the French chevaliers disdained to make

use of the crossbow or long-bow. The lance and sword seemed to them to be the

only honorable weapons. Joinville s narrative makes clear how the Moslems, unable

to stand against the onset of the heavily armed French riders, tried to trick them,

or disable them with missiles, or beat them from the saddle. The Moslems made full

use of the battle ax and iron mace, to break the heavy mail mesh of the knights.

It was a contest of gallant gentlemen against professional soldiers.

*St. Louis pitched his tents that night on the Moslem side of $e river, thus

separating his army into two parts.

360 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

and raised the helm from his head, so I gave him my round iron cap

which was much lighter than his helm, and cooler. We were riding

together across the river when the provost Henri came to him

and kissed his mailed hand. Then the king asked if he had tidings

of his brother, the count of Artois.

"Yes, certainly/ answered the provost, "I have heard that he

is now in paradise."

The provost thought to comfort him for the death of his brother,

and said, "Sire, no king of France has gained such honor as you

have gained this day."

" We should praise God for what hath come to us."

So said the king, and heavy tears began to run down his cheeks,

which many persons noticed. When we arrived at our quarters,

we found our pavilions half up; numbers of Saracens on foot had

seized some of the cords and were pulling with all their might, while

our servants pulled the other way. De Sonnac, master of the Tem

ple, and I charged this rabble and drove them off from the tent.

So ended this battle in which many men of grand manners had

fled over the river, leaving us few to fight alone. I could mention

their names but I will not, because they are dead now.

These Saracens, a powerful people called OBeda wins, were running

about the abandoned camp of the Turks* seizing and carrying off

whatever they could find. The Bedawins were subjects of the Turks,

but they always pillaged the side that was worsted in battle. These

Bedawins reside not in any town but live in the deserts and moun

tains; they lie in the fields, making themselves habitations by stick

ing in the ground poles joined to hoops like to what women use in

drying clothes and over the hoops they throw tanned sheepskins.

They wear cloaks of hair, and when it is cold or they wish to

sleep, they wrap themselves up in the cloaks. In the morning they

spread their cloaks in the sun to dry. Those of them who follow

the wars always keep their horses near them at night; otherwise

they do not arm themselves differently, for they say that no one

will die except in the hour appointed. In battle they wield a sword

curved after the Turkish manner, and clothe themselves in white

linen-like surplices. They are hideous to look at, for their beards

and hair are long and black. They live on the milk from their herds,

and their numbers are not to be counted for they dwell throughout

all the lands of the Saracens. . . .

That evening my people brought me from the main army a tent

which the master of the Templars had given me. I had it f^phed

in front of the engines we had won from the enemy, anjfafter

SHROVE TUESDAY S BATTLE 361

the king had posted a guard of sergeants by the engines we sought

repose, of which, indeed, we had great need, by reason of the

wounds and fatigue we had endured in the battle.

Before daybreak, however, we were aroused by cries of "To

arms to arms!" And I made my chamberlain who lay by my side

rise and go out to see what was the matter. He returned at once,

much frightened, and cried out, "My lord, up instantly! The

Saracens have defeated the guard and have entered the camp."

"By Saint Nicholas," I cried, "they will not stay here long!"

I rose at once, threw a quilted jacket on my back, and thrust my

iron cap on my head, and rousing my people wounded as they

were we drove the Saracens from the engines they were seeking

to recover. The king, seeing that scarcely any of us had proper

armor on, sent Walter of Chastillon, who posted himself between

us and the Turks.

Eight of the Turks, armed from head to foot, dismounted and

built themselves a rampart of large stones to shelter them from our

crossbows, and from this rampart they shot arrows that often

wounded our men. I took counsel with my men-at-arms as to how

we might destroy this rampart.

Now I had a priest called Jean de Waysy, who overheard our

talk, and did not wait for us to act. Alone, in quilted jacket and

iron cap, with his sword under his arm, the point dragging so

the Saracens would not notice it, he set out toward the Saracens.

He came near to them because they took no thought of one man

walking out alone. Then he rushed at them furiously, and gave

such blows to these eight captains that they could not defend them

selves, and took to flight. This astonished all the other Saracens.

My priest was well known thereafter to all our army, and men said

when they saw him, "That is the priest who, alone, defeated the

Saracens."

This happened during the first day of Lent, and that same day

the Saracens elected another chief in the place of him who had died

on Shrove Tuesday. The new chief found the body of the count of

Artois among the dead, and took the count s coat of armor, hoisting

it before the Turks and Saracens, saying that the king their enemy

had been slain.

Spies informed the king of this, and said that the enemy, be

lieving him dead, meant to attack us.

Stoutly had the chevaliers of France borne themselves in

this battle; long had they held their ground against odds;

362 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

fearlessly had St. Louis risked his body in the conflict.

They had gained a footing across the river, hard by the sham

bles of Mansura they had pushed the earth mole across the

river, and the king s pavilion was pitched on the far side.

They were ready now to advance again.

But they had been defeated. The rash onset of the count

of Artois had worked more woe than weal; the flower of the

chivalry had perished with the mounted archers in the streets

of Mansura. 1 Half of the French cavalry was dead, missing,

or wounded, and with the shattering of the cavalry, the army

lost its power to attack.

Like bees whose hive has been broken in, the mamluks

swarmed about Mansura. And the messenger pigeons flew

north to the palace of Cairo where Pearl Spray waited, with

tidings of victory. The feeling in the city changed overnight

from despondency to rejoicing. The streets were illuminated

musicians came forth to chant in triumph, and mamluks

riding through the streets were showered with the blessings

of the populace that had been ready to flee the day before.

*The Moslem annals give a clear account of the crisis of the battle:

"The whole cavalry of the French advanced to Mansura, and after forcing

one of the gates, entered the town while the Moslems fled to right and left. The king

of France had penetrated as far as the sultan s palace and victory seemed to be his,

when the Baharite slaves led by Baibars came forward and snatched it from his

hands. Their charge was so furious that the French were forced to retreat.

" During this time the French infantry had advanced as far as the bridge. Had

they been able to join the cavalry, the defeat of the Egyptian army and the loss of

Mansura would have been inevitable.

"At nightfall the French retreated in disorder, leaving fifteen hundred of their

horsemen on the field. They surrounded their camp with a wall; but their army was

divided into two bodies, the lesser camped on the branch of the Ashmun, the greater

on the large branch of the Nile that runs to Damietta."

XLIX

ST. LOUIS AT BAY

N THE evening before the battle of Shrove Tuesday,

Turan Shah, the son of the late sultan, had arrived at

the Mansura camp after riding from the far side of

Syria to take command against the crusaders. Turan Shah,

more cruel than the mamluks and even at the age of

twenty-five a prey to his vices, still had the instinct of leader

ship in war, and although he was practically a stranger to

the mamluks, his orders were obeyed in the crisis.

During the battle the crusaders, unknowing, had almost

taken him captive in one of the Mansura palaces; but as

soon as order was restored the sultan s son who was the

new chieftain mentioned by Joinville prepared to move

against the Christians. While he mustered his cavalry, he

dismantled a fleet of galleys at Cairo and had the timbers

transported on camel back down the river to a point below

the two camps of the crusaders, between them and Damietta.

But he did not wait for the galleys to be rebuilt before he

struck at the French king to drive him from the Mansura

side of the river. For this blow he found the veteran soldiers

under the Panther more than ready.

363

364 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Joinville, who had ample opportunity to make their ac

quaintance thereafter, explains the character of these soldier-

slaves recruited from every people and trained to lifelong

service in arms a kind of Foreign Legion that was, with the

Mongol army, perhaps the only professional soldiery of the

time.

It is needful to tell you how the sultan gained his men-at-arms

and how his army was made up. It is true that the greater part of

his chivalry was formed by foreigners 1 whom the merchants of the

sea had bought when young and whom the Egyptians purchased.

They came mostly from the east. The children born from these

captives the sultan supported and educated, and taught the use of

weapons and bows often watching them display their skill before

him.

As they gained strength, their small weapons were exchanged for

full-sized arms, and when their beards grew they became knights.

These youths bore the arms of the sultan and were called Bahairiz;

their emblazonments were like his of pure gold, save that, to distin

guish one from another, they added red bars with roses, birds,

griffins, or other devices. They were called the halka or king s

guard.

When the sultan wanted anything, he summoned the commander

of the halka, who mustered the guard by sounding clarions, trum

pets, and drums, and told to them the pleasure of the sultan

which they instantly obeyed. When the sultan went to war, he

appointed captains called amirs from the ranks of the halka to

command his other men-at-arms. And, as they displayed merit,

the sultan rewarded them more, so that every one tried to surpass

the other.

On Friday of that week Baibars and his White Slaves of

the River, the halka> the regiments of Cairo, and the Arab

clans assailed the lines of the Christians across the river.

*At this time the mamluks were recruited mostly from the Bulgars, the Khares-

mian Turks, Tatars of the Golden Horde and Turkomans. Many Georgian and

Circassian boys were also brought to Cairo. So the bulk of the mamluks were

white the Turks were a white race. They were brought up in the faith of Islam,

and many were volunteers from far Asia. For more than five centuries, unruly as

they were, they ruled Egypt only at times under the overlordship of Constanti

nople until the coming of Napoleon.

ST. LOUIS AT BAY 365

The roar of Allahu akbar and the mamluk drums drowned

the battle shout of Montjoie, St. Denis.

Through the stress of the battle moved the tall figure of the

French king, the fleur-de-lys gleaming on his helmet. Tran

quil and confident, he went among his knights, looking eag

erly for signs of the victory that would open the road to

Cairo. He watched the mamluks advance in separate squares

with infantry thrown before them to cast liquid fire at the

line of the crusaders. He saved the battalion of the count of

Anjou from rout, although the hide and tail of his own horse

were scorched by the flames.

He saw the Moslems burn the wooden barrier before the

line of the master of the Temple, and go through the fire

to rout the Templars, after De Sonnac, who had lost the

sight of one eye on Tuesday, was slain. He watched De

Malvoisin escape the fire projectiles and drive back the

Moslems. He heard that the count of Flanders held good his

ground, and that his brother, the count of Poitiers, had been

taken captive, and freed by a strange and unlooked-for rush

of the women and butchers and hangers-on of the Christian

camp, who assailed the Moslem horsemen with axes and

staves and knives. . . .

And at sunset the French still held their lines, when St.

Louis went among them, being weary himself but mindful

of their hurts for many a chevalier had died that day

and spoke with them. "My lords and friends, our Lord hath

shown us grace this day, for we have defended ourselves,

very many of us being without arms, while they were full

armed and on their own ground."

"This battle of Friday/ Joinville said ruefully, "was mar

velous sharp and severe."

It became clear to the king that he could not advance

toward Cairo; but he would not retire from his new position.

The Moslems were willing to grant him a respite while they

extended their lines to surround the Christian army, and

waited for their fleet to come into action down the river.

Three weeks passed, and ships ceased to come up the river

from Damietta to the Christian camp. Food became scarce,

and wounds festered in the airless, moist heat of the delta.

366 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

The crusaders could not go beyond their lines, nor could

they discover why the ships did not come to them with

supplies.

Meanwhile, something had happened to try the spirits

of the knights who had paid no heed to the mocking of the

mamluks who rode over to taunt them. Joinville witnessed it,

and told what befell thereafter:

After eight or ten days the bodies of the slain which had been

thrown into the Nile rose to the top of the water. It was said that

this always happens when the gall is burst. These bodies floated

down the river until they came to the small bridge that joined the

two portions of our army together. The arch of the bridge was so

low, it almost touched the water and kept the bodies from floating

underneath, so that the river became covered with them and the

water could not be seen a good stone s throw from the bridge

upward.

The king hired men who labored for eight days separating the

bodies of the Christians from the Saracens; the Saracen bodies they

thrust under the bridge by sheer force, floating them down to the

sea; but the Christians were buried in deep graves, one over the

other. God knows how great was the stench, and what misery it was

to see the bodies of such noble and worthy men lying so exposed.

I watched many hunting the bodies of their friends. They did

not find the bodies, but they themselves suffered from infection.

It was the time of Lent, and you should know that we had no fish

to eat but eels, which are a gluttonous fish and feed on decaying

bodies. From this, and the bad air of the country, the whole army

was affected by a disease that dried up our flesh and tanned our

skins as black as the ground. Eating such fish also rotted the gums.

This disease increased so much that the barbers were called

upon to cut the rotten flesh from the gums, so that their patients

could eat. It was pitiful to hear the cries of those on whom the

operation was being performed; they seemed like to the cries of

women in labor. Some of the afflicted men began bleeding at the

nose, and when that happened they died.

^ The Turks, who knew our plight, made shift to cure us by starva

tion, and I shall tell you how they did it.

They had drawn their galleys overland and launched them

again a good league below our army, so that those of us who had

gone down to Damietta for provisions never returned to our great

ST. LOUIS AT BAY 367

astonishment. We knew nothing of this until a small galley of the

earl of Flanders, having forced a passage through to us, related how

the Turks had their galleys below us, and had already captured

four-score of ours and killed the crews.

Because of this all provision was exceeding dear in the army,

and when Easter arrived a beef was sold for eighty livres, a sheep or

hog for thirty livres, a muid of wine for ten livres, and an egg for

a dozen pennies.

At this time I was confined to my bed, having been grievously

wounded in the battle of Shrove Tuesday. I had, besides, the camp

plague in my legs and mouth and such a rheum in my head it

ran through my mouth and nostrils. Moreover, I had a double

fever called a quartan, from which God defend us !

Even my priest had the plague, and one day when he was chant

ing the Mass he became so weak that I leaped out of bed without

breeches on, to support him. He finished his chanting but that was

his last Mass,

When the king and his barons saw that there was no remedy for

these ills, they withdrew the army from the Cairo side of the river

to the camp of the duke of Burgundy. It is true that they held some

parleys with the council of the sultan. But the Turks refused to

accept of any hostage other than the person of the king, and it were

better that we should all be slain than that we should give our king

in pawn.

Then the good king, Saint Louis, seeing the miserable condition

of his army, understood that he could no longer remain where he

was, and gave order to march on the Tuesday evening after the

octave of Easter, and return to Damietta.

He gave commands to the masters of the galleys to have them

ready to convey the sick and wounded to Damietta. He likewise

ordered Josselin de Corvant and the other engineers to cut the

cords that held the bridges between us and the Saracens; but they

neglected to do so, which was the cause of much evil befalling us.

Seeing that every one was making ready to go to Damietta, I

went on board my vessel in the afternoon with two of my knights

all that remained to me and the survivors of my household. When

it began to grow dark I ordered my seamen to raise the anchor, that

we might float down the current; but they replied that they dared

not, for the galleys of the sultan were between us and Damietta.

The king s seamen had made great fires on board their vessels

to care for the unfortunate sick. Many of the disabled were waiting

368 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

on the bank to be taken on the vessels. As I was urging my sailors

to make some little way I saw, by the light of these fires, the Sara

cens enter our camp and murder the sick. The sailors of the king s

ships were drawing in to the bank when they saw the Saracens kill

ing the sick who were waiting to be taken off, and they rowed back

to the larger galleys, cut the cables, and drifted down upon my

small bark. My men drew up the anchor and we began to move

downward. I expected that the galleys would sink me, but we

escaped and began to make way down the river.

Then the king appeared at the shore. He had the same illness as

the rest of us, with dysentery as well, which he might have pre

vented if he had been willing to live on his large galleys. That

evening he fainted more than once because of this dysentery he

had, and so often did he go off to perform his needs that they had to

cut away the bottom of his drawers. But he said if it pleased God

he would never leave his people. Now observing us make off, his

men began to shout to us to remain, and likewise shot bolts at us to

stop our course.

I will now tell you in what manner the king was made prisoner,

as he told me himself hereafter. He said that he had quitted his own

battalion, and with Sir Geoffrey de Sergines, had joined the bat

talion of De Chastillon who commanded the rear. 1 The king was

mounted on a small courser with only a housing of silk. De Sergines

alone attended him as far as a village, where the Turks beset them.

Thrice did Chastillon, sword in hand, charge the Turks, driving

them from the street of the village to the fields at the end. He was

bare of armor, having only the sword in his hand. As they rode

away from him they shot arrows back at him, and when they had

gone off, he drew the arrows from his body and his horse. Then

he came to the king, sitting on his horse, who extended his sword-

arm, crying:

"Chastillon sir knights where are my valiant men?"

But Chastillon, turning about, saw the Turks again and ran at

them.

I heard that Sir Geoffrey guarded his lord by taking his pike

under his arm and charging the Saracens every time they drew

near.

had planned to destroy the bridges behind him, to burn his tents and

baggage and place the disabled men in the boats, under guard of detachments of

knights. Then the able-bodied men were to make their way down the river beside

the galleys. But the bridges were not destroyed, the Moslems entered the camp in

the disorder of the retreat, and the fire enabled them to see exactly what was hap

pening. Only a handful of the army reached Damietta.

ST. LOUIS AT BAY 369

At the village, having dismounted, he entered a house and

laid the king in the lap of a woman from Paris, for he had no hope

that the king could pass that day without dying. Shortly after

arrived Sir Philip of Montfort, who told the king he had just seen

the amir of the sultan with whom he had formerly treated for

peace, and if it were the king s pleasure he would go back to him

and renew the parley.

The king entreated him to do so, and said that he would abide

by whatever terms they agreed upon.

Sir Philip went back to the Saracens, but just at that moment a

villainous sergeant named Marcel set up a shout to our people.

"Lords, knights, yield yourselves, for the king commands it!"

At these words all were thunderstruck, and thinking that the

king had indeed given the order they yielded their swords and

staves to the Saracens. Then the amir who had already lifted his

turban from his head and had taken the seal ring from his finger, to

show that he would grant the truce seeing the Saracens leading

in the king s knights as their prisoners, said to Sir Philip that he

would not agree to any truce, for the army had been made prisoner.

JOINVILLE S TALE

WHO had embarked on our vessels, thinking to escape to

Damietta, were not more fortunate than those who had

kept to the land, for we were also taken as you shall hear.

It is true that a wind rose up behind us, driving us down upon the

Saracens, and the knights fled who had been left by the king in

light boats to guard the sick. Toward daybreak we reached the

place in the river where the sultan s galleys lay. When they per

ceived us they set up a great noise and shot at us large bolts covered

with Greek fire, so that it seemed as if the stars were falling from the

heavens. The wind blew more than ever, and drove us toward the

bank of the river where we found the light boats of the knights who

had been ordered to guard the sick. On the opposite shore were

great numbers of our vessels that the Saracens had taken we could

see them plainly murdering the crews, and throwing the dead

bodies into the water, and carrying away the chests and arms. And

mounted Saracens shot arrows at us from the bank of the river.

I put on my armor, to keep the bolts from hurting me. Some of

my people called to me from the stern:

"My lord, my lord your sailors mean to run us on shore, be

cause the Saracens threaten them."

I was then very ill, but I rose at once, and, drawing my sword,

370

JOINVILLE S TALE 371

I swore that I would kill the first person who tried to run us on the

Saracen shore. The sailors responded that we could not go on, and

I must choose between landing on the shore or anchoring in mid

stream. I said to them that I would anchor in the river rather than

be carried to the shore where our men were being murdered. The

sailors then cast out the anchor.

It was not long before we saw four of the sultan s galleys making

toward us. I called to my knights to advise me whether to surrender

to the galleys of the sultan or those along the shore, and we agreed

that it would be better to surrender to the galleys that were coming,

for then we might be able to keep together. Then a cellarer of mine

who was born at Doulevant said:

"My lord, I do not agree to that."

I asked him why he did not agree, and he said, "I believe we

ought all to let ourselves be killed, because then we will all go to

paradise."

But we did not agree to that.

Seeing that we must surrender, I took the small casket contain

ing my jewels and relics, and cast it into the river. One of my sailors

said to me, "My lord, if you do not let me say that you are the

king s cousin, they will kill you and us with you." I bade him say

what he pleased.

When the first galley came athwart us and dropped anchor close

to our bow the people on it heard these words. Then God sent to

my aid a Saracen who was a subject of the emperor. 1 Wearing only

breeches of coarse cloth, and swimming straight over to my vessel,

he clasped my knees, and said:

" My lord, if you do not do as I bid you, there is no hope for you.

Leap into the river here, where you will not be seen by the men of

the galley who are thinking only of the spoiling of your bark."

He called to the galley then, and had a rope thrown across to us.

Holding the cord, I leaped into the water, followed by the Saracen.

I was so weak that I should have sunk, if he had not helped me to

the galley. They pulled me up to the deck of the galley, where I

saw some fourteen score Saracens. All the time the poor man held

me fast in his arms, and presently landed with me. Immediately

others rushed at me to cut my throat for he who slew a Christian

imagined that he gained honor thereby.

Twice they threw me to the ground, and once to my knees,

and then I felt the knife at my throat.

Yet this Saracen who had saved me from drowning would not

Evidently Frederick II, who had many Moslem subjects in Sicily and elsewhere.

372 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

quit hold of me, but cried out to them, "The king s cousin the

king s cousin!" And he was able to lead me to the castle where the

Saracen knights were gathered.

When I was brought before them they took off my coat of mail;

and from pity, seeing me so very ill, they flung over me one of my

own scarlet surcoats lined with miniver which my lady-mother

had given me. Another brought me a white leather girdle, with

which I girthed the surcoat around me. One of the Saracen knights

gave me a small cap which I put on my head; but I soon began to

tremble, as much from the fright I had had as from my disorder.

When I complained of thirst they brought me some water in a pot,

but when I drank a little it ran back through my nostrils. When

my own attendants saw this they began to weep. God knows what

a pitiful state I was in, with the disease that nearly closed my

throat.

The good Saracen asked my people why they wept, and when he

understood my sickness, he spoke of it to one of the Saracen knights

who bade him tell me to take comfort as they would give me some

what to drink that would cure me in two days. This he did, and I

was soon well, through God s mercy and the draft the Saracens

gave me.

Soon after my recovery the admiral 1 of the sultan s galleys sent

for me and asked if I were cousin to the king, as it was said. I told

him I was not, and explained why my sailors had said it through

fear of the Saracens. The admiral replied that they had advised

me well, because otherwise we would have been slain and thrown

into the river. He then asked if I had any blood-tie with the

emperor Ferrey [Frederick] of Germany. I answered truly that I

thought that Madame my mother was his second cousin. The ad

miral replied that he would love me the better for that.

On the Sunday after my capture, he ordered us all to be fetched

from the castle, down to the bank of the river. While waiting there

I saw Monseigneur Jean my chaplain dragged out of a hold of a

galley. On coming into the open air he fainted and the Saracens

killed him, flinging him into the stream before my eyes. His clerk

also, who was suffering from the common disorder of the army and

unable to stand, they killed by casting a heavy mortar on his head,

and flung him after his master.

In like manner the Saracens dealt with the other prisoners, post

ing themselves about the hold through which our men were drawn.

^oinville writes admiral for amir, or rather al amir. The word admiral originated

in this way with the crusaders.

JOINVILLE S TALE 373

When they saw any one weak or ill, they killed him and threw him

into the water.

I told them, through the interpretation of my Saracen who never

left me, that they were doing wrong. For it was against the custom

of Saladin, who said that no man should be killed who had eaten of

his bread and salt. The admiral made answer that they were

destroying men who were ill and of no use. And he had my own men

brought before us, saying that my men had all denied their faith.

I replied that I did not put much trust in them, for they would

forsake his faith as quickly as they had forsaken mine if the op

portunity offered.

The admiral assented to this, adding that Saladin had said that

a Christian never made a good infidel, nor a good Saracen a Chris

tian. Soon after this he made me mount a palfrey and we rode side

by side over a bridge to Mansura where Saint Louis and his men

were prisoners.

At the entrance of a large pavilion we found a secretary writing

down the names of the prisoners, and there I was made to declare

my name, which I no way wished to conceal, and it was written

down with the others. As we entered the pavilion the Saracen who

had never left me said:

"Sir, I will not go with you, for I can not follow you further. I

beg that you will never quit the hand of this young boy you have

with you, otherwise the Saracens will carry him off."

The boy s name was Bartholomew and he was a bastard of the

lord Montfaucon de Bar. The admiral led me and the little boy into

the enclosure where were the barons of France and more than ten

thousand other persons with them. They greeted me with pleasure

and joyful noise, for they had thought me slain.

Numbers of knights and other men were confined here in a large

court surrounded with mud walls. The guards of this prison led

them out one at a time and asked each if he would become a rene

gade. If they said they would, they were taken elsewhere, if they

refused they had their heads cut off. Shortly after I came, the

council of the sultan sent for the barons, and demanded of us to

whom they should deliver a message they had from the sultan.

We answered, all of us, by the interpreter, that the message should

be given to the count Peter of Brittany. This was the message:

"Lord, the sultan sends us to find out if you wish to be freed/*

"Yes," the count answered, "we do."

"And what price will you pay for your freedom?"

"Whatever we can, in reason."

374 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

"Will you give any of the castles of the Holy Land?"

"We cannot do that, because the castles belong to the emperor of

Germany."

The council then asked if we would not surrender some of the

castles belonging to the Knights Templars or the Hospital. The

count replied for us that this, also, was impossible, for the garrisons

of those castles had sworn on holy relics that they would yield

them to no man.

The Saracens then spoke together, and said to us that it did not

seem as if we much desired to regain our freedom, and that they

would send to us those who knew well how to use their swords

and who would deal with us. But they sent to us a messenger in

stead who assured us that we were to be freed, because our king

would ransom us.

In order to try the king, the sultan s council had made the same

demands of him as of us. But the good king, Saint Louis, answered

as we had done, although the council threatened to torture him.

The good king held all their menaces cheap, saying that since he

was their prisoner they could do with him as they wished. Finding

that they could not overcome him by threats, the council asked

him how much money he would give for his release in addition

to Damietta which was also to be surrendered. So the king engaged

cheerfully to pay 500,000 livres for the ransom of his army, and for

his own ransom to yield the city of Damietta since he was of a

rank in which bodily ransom could not be estimated in money.

When the sultan heard the good disposition of the king, he said:

"By my faith, the Frenchman is generous not to bargain about

so great a sum of money. He has agreed to the first demand. Go and

tell him that I make him a present of 100,000 livres, so that he

will only have to pay 400,000."

Unknown to the captive barons of France, revolt simmered

in the Moslem camp and the palaces of Cairo. The man who

was sultan in name, Turan Shah, who had granted terms to

the Nazarenes, had also deprived of their rank several power

ful mamluks 3 confiscating their wealth for his own officers

and turning against him the triumvirate that had carried

on the war against the crusaders that strange triumvirate

of Pearl Spray and the Turkoman and the Panther. 1 It was

^ The sultan had confidence only in a few favorites," the Egyptian historian

Makrisi relates, "to whom he gave the chief offices of the state, displacing the old

ministers of the late sultan his father. Above all, he showed dislike of the mamluks,

JOINVILLE S TALE 375

a perilous matter to brave the victorious mamluks in this

fashion; the war had virtually ended, and the mamluks saw

clearly that power could not be shared between them and

Turan Shah. One must yield to the other, and secretly the

mamluks conspired to slay the sultan, who was the last

descendant of Saladin s lineage to rule in Egypt. What

followed Joinville beheld in part, or heard related.

The conspirators held council with the admiral of the late

sultan who had been dismissed from his office, and they won over

to their plan the halka who have the guard of the sultan s person,

and prevailed upon them to slay the sultan, which they promised

to do.

They went to work with caution, for they ordered the trumpets

and drums to sound for the assembling of the army to know the

sultan s will. The admirals and their accomplices told the officers

of the army that Damietta had been taken, and the sultan was

marching thither and that he ordered them to arm and follow him.

At once the officers set off at a gallop toward Damietta. We were

frightened when we saw them go off like this, for we really believed

Damietta had been stormed.

We were then lodged in a galley anchored before the quarters

of the sultan a great enclosure of fir- wood poles covered with

painted cloth. A high pavilion had been pitched at the entrance

of this place, and within it a handsome gateway with a tower.

Within this was a fine garden wherein stood the sultan s lodgings,

with a great tower from which he could look out over the country.

From the garden an alley led to the river, and at the end of the

alley the sultan had built himself a summer house on the beach

where he bathed. This summer house was of trellis work covered

with Indian linen.

That day the sultan invited the knights of the halka to dine with

him in his quarters. After the dinner he had taken leave of his

admirals and was about to retire to his own chamber, when one of

these knights, his swordbearer, struck him with a sword. The blow

fell upon his hand, splitting it between the four fingers.

The sultan cried to his admirals, who had really been the instiga-

although they had gained the last victory for him. His debaucheries wasted the

revenues, and he forced the sultana Shadjar ad Darr to render him an account of

the riches of his father. The sultana implored the protection of the mamluks. These

slaves, already angered at Turan Shah, did not hesitate to take her part, and re

solved to assassinate the prince."

37 6 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

tors of the attack: "Witness ye that my men of the halka have at

tacked me look at my hand."

"We see," they responded, "and now surely you will slay us

so it is better that you should die."

Then the sultan, in spite of his wound, understood that they had

conspired against him. He fled to the high watch tower that I have

mentioned, near his chambers. Already the men of the halka were

destroying his other pavilions and surrounding his quarters. Within

the tower where he had hidden himself were three of his priests who

had just dined with him. They bade him descend, and he replied

that he would do so willingly, if they would answer for his safety.

But the men outside cried to him that they would fetch him out

by force. They cast some Greek fire into the tower, which being

made only of fir and cotton cloth, as I have said, began to blaze all

over. Never have I beheld a bonfire so fine, nor so sudden.

When the sultan saw the fire gaining ground on all sides, he

went down into the garden of which I have spoken and ran down

the alley toward the river. But as he fled one of the halka struck him

a fierce blow in the ribs with a sword. Then he flung himself, with

the sword hanging from him, into the Nile.

Nine other men pursued him in a boat and killed him beside our

galley,

One of these knights whose name was Faracatai, seeing the sul

tan dead, cut him in twain and tore the heart from his vitals. Then

he entered our galley and came before the king with his hands all

bloodied, saying, "What wilt thou give me, who have slain thine

enemy, who if he had lived would have put thee to death?"

But the good king Saint Louis made no answer whatever.

After this about thirty of them climbed into our galley with their

swords drawn and their battle axes on their necks. I asked Sir

Baldwin d Ibelin, who understood Saracenic, what they were say

ing. He replied that they said they were come to cut off our heads.

Soon after I saw a large group of our people confessing themselves

to a monk of La Trinite who was of the company of the count of

Flanders. But I could not think of any sin or evil I had done

only that I was about to receive my death.

So I fell on my knees, making the sign of the cross. Sir Guy

d Ibelin, constable of Cyprus, knelt beside me and confessed him

self to me, and I gave him such absolution as God may have

granted me the power of bestowing. But of all the things he said to

me, when I rose up I could not remember one of them.

We were led down into the hold of the galley and laid heads and

JOINVILLE S TALE 377

heels together. We thought this was so that they could make away

with us one at a time. For the whole night we lay bound in this

manner. I had my feet right in the face of the count Peter of

Brittany, whose feet in turn were beside my face.

On the morrow we were taken out of the hold, and the admirals

sent to us, to say that we might renew with them the treaty we had

made with the sultan. The king was to swear to give over to them

200,000 livres before he quitted the river, and the other 200,000

he should pay in Acre. 1

The oath to be taken by the king and the admirals was drawn up

in writing. On their part they swore that if they failed in their word

they would hold themselves as dishonored as if they had gone bare

headed on pilgrimage to Mecca, or had divorced their wives and

taken them back again, or had eaten pork. For according to the

law of Mahomet, no one could divorce his wife and take her back

again without first looking on while another man enjoyed her

after which he could take her back. The king accepted this oath of

theirs because Master Nicolle of Acre, who knew their customs

well, assured him they could not have sworn a greater oath.

After the admirals had sworn, they sent to the king a written

oath drawn up by advice of some Christian renegades they had

with them. The king swore first that if he failed to keep his word,

he would hold himself outcast from the presence of God. Then

they bade him swear that if he broke his word, he should be per

jured as a Christian who had denied God, and that in despite

of God he would spit on the cross and trample it underfoot. But

when the king heard this oath read, he said that he would never

take it.

Hearing the king had refused, the admirals were greatly dis

contented for that they had sworn, and he had refused to do so.

Master Nicolle told the king that he was certain that unless he

took the full oath, the Saracens would behead him and his people.

The king replied that they might do as they pleased. At that time

the patriarch of Jerusalem was with the king; he was eighty

x Two women played a great part in saving the French chivalry. The mamluk

rebels were half inclined to slaughter all the invaders, but Pearl Spray in Cairo,

through the high amirs, prevailed on them to hold to Turan Shah s treaty. And

Queen Marguerite, holding Damietta with its^garrison, made it clear that the city

would not be yielded except by order of the king. .

The death of Turan Shah marked the end of Saladin s descendants, and the rise

of the formidable mamluk slave-warriors. The disaster to the French king was the

beginning of Moslem supremacy.

378 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

years old or thereabout, and had persuaded the Saracens to give

him a safe-conduct, to join the king. Now the admirals said that it

was the patriarch who had influenced the king.

They seized the good patriarch and tied him to a post before the

king, and bound his hands behind his back so tight that they

swelled as big as his head, and the blood spouted out.

"Ah, Sire!" he cried out, from the sufferings he endured. "Swear

boldly for I will take the whole sin of it on my conscience!"

I know not how the oath was taken at last, but the admirals held

themselves satisfied at last with the oaths of the king and his

barons. They ordered their trumpets and drums to sound merrily

before the king s tent, and it was said that some of them wished to

choose him sultan, for the king was the proudest Christian they

ever knew. They said too that if Muhammed had allowed them to

suffer what God had caused the king to endure, they would have

lost faith in him.

The king asked me if I thought he should take the kingship of

Egypt if they offered it to him. And I said he would be a fool to do

so, since they had just killed their king. But he said truly he would

not refuse it.

You must know also that the good queen was not without her

share of persecution, and very bitter it was to her heart, as you

shall hear.

Three days before she was brought to bed with child, she was told

that the good king her husband had been made prisoner. This so

troubled her mind that she seemed at all times to see her chamber in

Damietta filled with Saracens ready to slay her, and she kept crying

out incessantly, "Help, help! "when there was no tan enemy near her.

For fear that the child in her womb should perish, she made a

knight watch at the foot of her bed all through the night without

sleeping. This knight was very old not less than eighty years or

perhaps more and every time she screamed, he held her hands,

and said:

"Madame, do not take fright like this. I am with you: rid your

self of these fears."

Before the good lady was brought to bed, she once ordered every

person to leave her room except this very old knight; then she cast

herself out of bed on her knees before him, and requested that he

would grant her a boon. The knight promised, with an oath, that

he would do so.

"Sir Knight," the queen then said, "I request on the oath you

JOINVILLE S TALE 379

have sworn, that if the Saracens storm this city and take it, you

will cut my head from my body before they seize it."

The knight replied that he would cheerfully do so, and that he

had thought of it himself, before then.

The day she was brought to bed it was told her that the Pisans,

the Genoese, and the common men in the town were about to fly,

and forsake the king. The queen sent for some of them, and spoke

to them:

" Gentlemen, I beg of you for the love of God, that you will not

quit this city. For well you know that if you do my lord the king

and his whole army will be lost without remedy. Have pity, at

least, upon this person who beseeches you, lying in pain."

They answered that they could not remain longer in a city where

they were dying of hunger. 1 She said then that they would not die of

hunger, because she would buy up all the provision in the name of

the king. This she was obliged to do, and all the provision that

could be found was bought up, at a cost of 360,000 livres, to feed

these people.

Shortly after, the queen was delivered of a son in the city of

Damietta, whose name was John and his surname Tristan because

he had been born in misery. The good lady was forced to rise before

she was fully recovered, and embark on the ships, for Damietta

was to be surrendered to the Saracens.

On the morrow of the feast of the Ascension of our Lord, at sun

rise, Sir Geoffrey de Sergines went to the city and delivered it to

the admirals, and instantly the banners of the sultan were displayed

on the walls. The Saracens entered the city and drank of the wines

they found there until the greater part of them were drunk. One

of the admirals who was against us in all things came to the bank

of the river and shouted out to those in our galley that they were to

take us back to Cairo.

We should have been delivered with the king at sunrise; but

they had kept us until sunset, and we had had nothing to eat. The

admirals also did not eat, for they were gathered together to dis

pute about us.

^There were provisions enough in the fleet. The Genoese and Pisans who had

ferried the French over were disgruntled by the offer St. Louis had made, in his

first attempt to negotiate a peace, to exchange Damietta for Jerusalem. This was

refused by Turan Shah. Now that the French crusaders had been decisively de

feated, the Italian merchant-mariners were quite willing to sail off, leaving the sur

vivors stranded in Egypt. It is doubtful if Queen Marguerite s plea would have

influenced them to remain, but the supplies she purchased at prohibitive cost from

them did induce them to wait.

3 8o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

"We shall kill the king and these lords/ one said, "and so for

forty years no more of them will come against us for their sons

are small, and we have Damietta."

"If we slay the king/ another Saracen said against this, "as well

as the sultan, it will be said that there is no faith in the Egyptians."

"In doing as we did to the sultan/ the first Saracen replied,

"we went against the command of Mahomet. Now listen to an

other command For the surety of the Faith, slay the enemies of the

Law! How dare we break two commands, and spare the greatest of

the infidels?"

However, as God willed it, the admirals consulted together at

sunset and agreed that we were to be released. So we were brought

to Damietta and our galleys moored close to the shore. We asked

permission to land, but they would not allow it until we had re

freshed ourselves for the Saracens said it would be a shame to the

admirals to send us fasting from our prison.

Soon after, they sent us provisions, that is to say loaves of

cheese that had been baked in the sun, with hard eggs, the shells of

which they had painted with colors to honor us. When we had eaten

some little, they put us on shore and we went toward the king,

whom the Saracens were leading from the pavilion where they had

detained him, toward the water s edge. They surrounded the king

on foot, with drawn swords.

It happened that a Genoese galley was on the river opposite the

king. Only one man could be seen on the galley, but when he saw the

king he whistled. Instantly fourscore crossbowmen with their bows

bent and shafts placed, leaped on the deck from below. The Sara

cens no sooner saw them than they ran away like sheep not more

than three or four staying by the king. The Genoese thrust a plank

on shore and took on board the king, his brother the count of

Anjou, Sir Geoffrey of Sergines, and the marshal of France and

myself. The count of Poitiers remained prisoner with the Saracens

until the king should pay the ransom, which he was bound to pay

before he quitted the river.

Then the count of Flanders and many other great lords came to

take leave of the king and to embark in their galleys for France.

With them was the count of Brittany, grievously sick, so that he

lived no more than three weeks.

The whole of Saturday and Sunday was taken up in paying the

money of the ransom by weight. Before it was all paid, some lords

advised the king to withhold a part until the Saracens should have

given up his brother; but he replied that since he had promised it he

JOINVILLE S TALE 381

would pay the whole before he had quitted the river. As he

said this, Sir Philip of Montfort told the king that the Saracens

had miscounted one scale weight which was worth 10,000 livres.

The king was angered at this and commanded Sir Philip on the

faith he owed him as liegeman to make up to the Saracens these

10,000 livres.

At this others entreated the king to go out to a galley that was

awaiting him at sea, to be out of the hands of the Saracens, and at

length prevailed on him to do so.

So at last we began to make some way at sea, putting a league

between us and the shore, without a word said for we were all

concerned for the count of Poitiers. In a little while Sir Philip,

who had remained to make good the payment of the 10,000 livres,

came out to us, calling to the king:

"Sire, Sire your brother the count is following in the other

galley."

The king then turned to those near him and said, " Light up,

light up!" And there was great joy among us all on the coming of

his brother. A poor fisherman having hastened to the countess of

Poitiers with the tidings, was given twenty livres of Paris. And then

each of us sought his own galley and we left Egypt

The king had no other robes than two garments the sultan had

caused to be made for him of black silken stuff lined with squirrel

skins. During this voyage to Acre I also was ill, and was always

seated near the king, and it was then he told me how he had been

taken and how he had ransomed us. At times he mourned for the

death of his brother the count of Artois.

One day it pleased him to ask what the count of Anjou was

doing for although he was in the same galley, the count had not

sought his company. The king was told that his brother was playing

at tables with Sir Walter of Nemours. Although he could barely

stand by reason of his long illness, he arose hastily and went stag

gering to where they were at play. Then, seizing the dice and tables,

he flung them into the sea, and was in a passion with his brother

for amusing himself by gaming, forgetful of the death of the count

of Artois and of the great perils from which the Lord had delivered

them. But Sir Walter was best paid, because the king tossed into

his lap all the coins of which there were a great pile on the

tables, and Sir Walter carried them all off.

FAREWELL TO PALESTINE

French chivalry had failed utterly in Egypt. Never

had crusaders suffered a defeat so disastrous as the

second battle of Mansura. With the collapse of the

expedition, St. Louis gave permission to his surviving broth

ers to return with the great lords to France. But he would

not accompany them.

He felt that the honor of the French arms and of Christen

dom had suffered at his hands on the Nile, and for four years

he lingered upon the coast of the Holy Land, hoping to strike

a blow for Jerusalem. He had made a ten years truce with

the mamluks, and he sought to gain by negotiation what he

had been unable to win by arms. But without an army he

could gain little. Only a hundred knights remained with him

of the twenty-eight hundred who had assembled at Cyprus,

and the survivors had brought the taint of the plague with

them from the Nile.

I was lodged [Joinville wrote] with the rector of Acre and was

most grievously ill. Of all my servants there WJLS but one who was

not confined to his bed with sickness like myself. The more to en-

382

FAREWELL TO PALESTINE 383

liven me I saw some twenty corpses pass my window daily for

burial, with the chant " Libera me Domine . . "

We seemed a subject for mockery on all parts, for we enjoyed

neither peace nor truce from the admirals. You must know that

we could never muster in our army more than about fourteen

hundred men-at-arms fit for service.

At that time John the Armenian, who was artilleryman to the

king, saw in the bazaar of Damascus an old man, very aged,

who called to him, asking if he were a Christian.

"Yes," he said.

"Great is the hatred among you," said the aged man, "and

far have you been brought down by your sins. For I myself

once saw your king, Baldwin of Jerusalem, who was a leper,

overthrow Saladin with no more than three hundred men-at-

arms. Now, we take you in the field as if you were wild beasts."

Yet they regained their health, and the determination of

the king accomplished much. He rebuilt the walls of the coast

towns, especially Jaffa, and made sallies inland as far as

Banyas; he received ambassadors from the Assassins of

Massiaf, and gave them presents. Joinville marveled much

at these strange envoys who, he said, carried in their hands

the death of kings. They complained of having to pay

tribute to the Templars and Hospitalers, because they could

not intimidate the soldier-monks with their daggers if one

master of the order was slain, another took his place at once.

Joinville heard the gossip of the great trade routes, and all

the legends of the nearer east. He thought that Prester John

ruled a Christian kingdom in the sandy wastes beyond Gog

and Magog, and that the "grand cham of Tartary " had made

war against Prester John. Good King Louis even sent richly

illuminated Bibles and a scarlet chapel tent fittingly em

broidered to the Mongol khans.

In return a gift from the Old Man of the Mountain was

presented to the king an elephant of crystal, and crystal

figures of men, set in pieces of amber bordered with gold.

When the casket containing this gift was opened, a strong

and sweet odor spread through the chamber.

Zealously the king gathered relics from the coast shrines

of the Holy Land, to bear back to France, where he had

384 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

built the Sainte Chapelle to honor the thorns and the frag

ment of the cross. This pleased him much and he said to

Joinville:

"Seneschal, I am grieved in my heart that I shall be forced

to quit such good and religious companions, to return among

such a set of wretches as make up the court of Rome."

The Moslems offered to allow him to visit Jerusalem in

safety, but he would not. He remembered Coeur de Lion s

words, and repeated them:

"Since I can not deliver Jerusalem, I pray that I may

never see the holy city."

To Queen Marguerite also the visit to the tranquil coast

brought respite, and Joinville, who escorted her from place

to place, found her in gay spirits. She had been delivered of

another child, a daughter this time, at Jaffa.

One day in the presence of the king, I asked his leave to make a

pilgrimage to Our Lady of Tortosa, which many others had done,

for it was said to have been the first altar erected in honor of the

Mother of God. Our Lady performed there many wonderful mir

acles, The king very readily gave me leave to make this pilgrimage,

and at the same time charged me to buy for him a hundred-weight

of different colored camlets 1 which he wished to bestow upon the

Cordeliers on his return to France. From this I guessed that it

would not be long before he set out on his return thither.

When I arrived at the end of my pilgrimage, I made my offering

to Our Lady of Tortosa, and afterwards bought the camlets as the

king had ordered. My knights, seeing me do this, asked what I

wished with so many camlets. I persuaded them that I meant to

gain a profit from selling them again.

The prince of that country, knowing that I had come from the

king s army, gave us a most honorable reception and offered us

some relics which I took to the king with his camlets.

You must know that the queen had heard that I had been on a

pilgrimage and had brought back some relics. I sent her by one of

my knights four pieces of the camlets which I had purchased. But

when the knight entered her apartment, she cast herself on her

knees before the camlets which were wrapped up in a towel.

The knight, seeing the queen do this, flung himself on his knees

also.

cloth woven of camel s hair.

FAREWELL TO PALESTINE 385

"Rise, Sir Knight," the queen, observing him, said, "it does not

become you to kneel, who are the bearer of such holy relics/

My knight replied that it was not relics but camlets that he had

brought as a present from me. When the queen and her ladies

heard this, they burst into laughter.

"Sir Knight," the queen cried, "the devil take your lord for

having made me kneel to a parcel of camlets/

Loath to leave the coast, the king lingered until tidings

reached him of the death of his mother, Blanche, who had

been regent of France during his six years absence. Even

then he hesitated, until a deputation of Syrian patriarchs and

barons waited upon him, and suggested that he depart-

The presence of a visitor of such distinction, at a loose end,

availed them nothing, and perhaps they had become weary of

the king s fervent disciplining.

"Sire, it is clear that your stay can no longer profit the

Kingdom of Jerusalem. We advise you to prepare to leave in

the coming Lent, so that you may have a safe passage to

France."

But the passage proved to be far from safe, as Joinville

observed.

On the vigil of Saint Mark, after Easter, the king and queen em

barked on their ship and put to sea with a favorable wind. On the

Saturday following we arrived off Cyprus. Near this island was a

mountain in the sea called the Mountain of the Cross. On that day

about vespers there came on such a thick fog from the land that

our sailors thought themselves farther from the land than they were

for they had lost sight of this mountain.

So they sailed on, and our ship struck a sand bank below the

water. A great cry rose in the ship "Alas!"

When I heard it, I rose from my bed, and went to the ship s

castle with the seamen. Brother Raymond, who was a Templar and

master of the sailors, said to one, "Cast the lead!" And he did so,

and cried out, "Alas, we are aground!" When Brother Raymond

heard that, he tore open his clothes to the girdle, groaning, "O me !"

Then the churl who had the lead threw it out again, and came to

Brother Raymond, saying that the ship was clear of the ground.

When daylight came we saw the rocks on which we should have

struck if it had not been for the sand bank. In the morning the king

386 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

sent for the chief seamen of the ship, who mustered four divers

fellows who dive naked to the bottom of the sea, like fish. The

captains ordered these divers to plunge into the sea, and they did

so, passing under the ship.

When they came up, on the opposite side, we asked each one in

turn what he had found. They all said that where our vessel had

struck the sand, three fathoms of its keel had been broken off

which very much surprised the king and all who heard it. The

king asked the mariners for their advice, and they replied:

"Sire, believe us, you must change from this ship to another. We

know well that if the keel has suffered such damage, all the ribs of

the ship must have started, and we very much fear she will be un

able to bear the sea, should any wind arise."

The king, having listened to what the mariners said, summoned

his council to decide what should be done, and they all agreed with

the mariners. But the king called the sailors to him again, and

asked them, on the faith they owed him, whether if the ship were

their own and full of merchandise they would quit it.

"Sire," they replied, "it would be needful to risk our lives, to

safeguard such a cargo and vessel."

"Why, then," asked the king, "do you advise me to quit her?"

"Sire," they made response, "you and we are nowise the same.

* For there is no sum that would compensate for the loss of yourself

and the queen and her three children."

"Now," said the king, "I will tell you what I think. If I quit the

ship, there are five or six hundred persons who will do likewise out

of fear, and they will remain on the island of Cyprus, losing hope

of returning to their own land. I will rather put myself and the

queen and the children under the good providence of God."

Yet after we were saved from this peril another befell us; for

there arose so great a storm that in spite of all our efforts we were

driven back toward the island long after we had left it. The seamen

cast out four anchors in vain, and the vessel could not be stopped

until they had thrown out the fifth, which held. All the partitions

of the king s cabin had to be taken down, and so high was the wind

that no one dared stay therein for fear of being blown overboard.

The queen came into the king s chamber, thinking to meet him

there, but found only Sir Gilles le Brun, constable of France, and

myself, who were lying down. On seeing her I asked what she

wished. She said she wanted the king, to beg that he might make

some vows to God, that we would be delivered from this storm

for the sailors had told her we were in great danger of drowning.

FAREWELL TO PALESTINE 387

"Madam," I replied, "do you vow to make a pilgrimage to my

lord Saint Nicholas at Varengeville, that we may reach France in

safety."

"Ah, seneschal/ answered she, "I am afraid the king would not

let me make such a pilgrimage."

"At least then, madam, promise the saint that if God brings

you safely to France, you will give him a silver ship of the value of

five marks. And for myself, I vow that I will make a pilgrimage to

his shrine barefoot."

Upon this she vowed the silver ship, and demanded that I would

be her pledge for the due performance of the vow, to which I as

sented. In a little while she came to us again to say that God, at the

intercession of my lord Saint Nicholas, had delivered us from this

peril. . . .

At the end of ten weeks we arrived at the port of Hieres, to the

great joy of the queen. She caused the ship to be made, as she had

vowed, and put within it the effigies of the king, herself, and the

three children, with the sailors all in silver, with ropes of silver

thread. This ship she sent me with orders to carry it to the shrine

of my lord Saint Nicholas, which I did.

In this way ended the second Egyptian crusade. The

beaux sabretcrs sought their homes in France, after casting

the gage of their courage against the finer weapons and su

perior generalship of the mamluks in vain.

And so in 1254 St. Louis came back to his native land. He

was so weakened by illness that more than once Joinville

had to carry him from horse to chamber in his arms. But the

saintly king bore himself in defeat with the same tranquillity

with which he had set out in command of his armada six

years before. He sought for no explanation of his overthrow.

It had been God s will.

He found France much in need of his governing hand, and

for the next years he was occupied in bringing about long-

cherished reforms the famous etablissements that, among

other measures, helped replace judicial combats by trials,

and granted to his people the right of appeal to their sover

eign over the will of their own seigneurs. He also drove the

first wedge that would in time separate the French Church

from Rome.

388 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Not so did his brother, the ambitious Charles of Anjou,

occupy himself. He cast his eyes to the east, and Rome be

stowed upon him the crown of the Two Sicilies, when he

became the right hand of the popes and the destroyer of the

last scions of the Hohenstaufen. This done, he plotted a

greater dominion, to embrace the holdings of the crusaders

in Greece and dominion of the sea. A taciturn and most

gifted adventurer, he chafed under the leadership of a

church-minded brother.

At Cairo the triumvirate ruled again, with Shadjar ad

Darr the guiding spirit. Now that truce had been agreed with

the French king, the mamluks released all Christian captives

of war 12,100 men, and 10 women. A certain poet, As-Sahib

Jamal ad Din ibn Matroub, composed in honor of the French

defeat the following verses:

Bear to the lord of the French, these words which are traced by the hand

of truth

" You thought to be master of Egypt you who are a drum filled with

wind.

" And you have left your warriors on the ground of Egypt, where the

tomb gaped open for them.

"Where are the seventy thousand, your men? Dead, wounded, and

captive!

"Ij you wish again to come to Egypt, know that the house of Lokman

still stands, with its chains and its eunuch awake!" 1

x The house in which St. Louis was imprisoned at Mansura, under guard of the

eunuch Sahil. The Moslem annals say that the king and his brother were put in

chains when first taken.

PART V

WHEN the stars set, and the old moon wanes;

When waters flow back to the lowlands

The men of the West will be faring

Homeward again.

Far have they gone for th, and their eyes have seen:

Magicians 7 towers y and beacons upon the hills>

where the black banners hang.

And the fire that flies , and wind that devastates

Earth that quivers and walls that crumble

Old stones shaped by forgotten men> and a city

That was not built by hands.

The men of the West will be riding home, with a

broken sword in its sheath.

LII

THE TIDE EBBS

St. Louis sailed from Acre in that year of 1254,

the remnant of the last great crusade left the shore of

the Holy Land. A change was taking place. The

crusaders who had settled on the coast would see no more

armies come out to them. They would be abandoned by

Europe, to defend themselves as best they could. This change

came about unheralded, because it took place in the minds

of men.

It happened in this way. A century and a half before, the

great tidal wave of enthusiasm had swept the first crusade

down to the conquest of Jerusalem; then for a generation

following waves had penetrated further into Asia, making

larger the conquest.

For half a century thereafter the tide, at its full, had not

moved forward or back, except a little here and there along

the new frontier, until the sudden surge under Saladin s

leadership had swept the crusaders back to the coast again.

Then, once more, the strong tides of men flowed out of

Christendom, down to the redemption of the Holy Land,

under Barbarossa and Coeur de Lion and others. But they

had broken, with only a little gain, along the coast,

391

392 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

And, while the spirit of the crusades still held firm in

Europe, other waves had been turned aside by popes and

princes, to Constantinople, to the Languedoc, and Spain.

One wave had lapped at Jerusalem, to serve the purpose of

the great emperor Frederick II, and another had spent itself

on the road of the Nile. And now St. Louis had failed again

at the Nile.

The barrier of the Moslem mamluks was growing and

extending, even without the leadership of a sultan such as

Saladin although the mamluks were soon to have such a

leader in Baibars. But more than that, the spirit of Christen

dom had changed.

A century and a half ago, every man had had a share of

some sort in the crusades, and the possession of Jerusalem

had brought to the hamlets of Europe a new horizon, an

assurance of salvation, and an outlet for pent-up spirits

harassed by the suffering of the Dark Ages and eager to

venture upon the new world conflict to aid the Seigneur

Christ.

Now, after the mid-mark of the Thirteenth Century, things

were different in Europe. Other matters engaged the atten

tion of progressive spirits at home. For one thing, the most

treasured relics had been brought out of the East, especially

out of Constantinople, and at least a dozen churches could

boast of guarding portions of the true Cross to which a

zealous man might make pilgrimage. And the preaching

friars held the interest of the communities. The great monas

teries of the previous century were beginning to disgorge their

inmates, to wander forth upon the roads.

Little heeded, Friar Roger Bacon was writing his Opus

Majus which set forth the marvels and facts of the world

in clear words, and mentioned a concoction of saltpeter and

sulphur and charcoal gunpowder. Already in the universi

ties that were growing up in the shadow of the cathedrals,

youths in threadbare robes sat huddled together for warmth,

or nibbled at their bread and cheese while they listened to

the long expositions of the masters, who debated the new

science of geography with the dicta of Albertus Magnus, and

the reasoning of Thomas Aquinas.

THE TIDE EBBS 393

Embryo scientists were testing the powers of the magnify

ing glass, and wondering how it might serve in the search for

the philosopher s stone. Others used Arabic numerals openly

in their calculations, and almost believed that the mariner s

compass of the infidel Arabs might not be, in reality, a work

of Satan to lead human souls astray.

The courts of the great princes were becoming gathering

centers for mathematicians as well as minstrels. The minstrels

on their part were singing romantic tales the legends of

King Arthur, and the fables of Alexander. They could tell,

as well, of Prester John who ruled beyond the sea of sand in

Asia.

Venice, enriched by the spoils of Constantinople and

thriving from its sea-borne commerce, was becoming a center

of the arts, wherein women appeared everywhere with men

and dyed their hair red. They were avid of luxury, and what

the Venetians lost in morality they gained in culture. At

least they had vases of colored glass, and leaded glass for

windows henna stain for their finger tips, and the perfumes

of Arabia and Cathay. They set a new fashion in Greek and

colored slaves, and their husbands profited from the slave

trade.

Merchant vessels well armed, of course plied the sea

lanes that the Norse dragon ships had terrorized two cen

turies before. In fact Venice required that its shipyards build

all vessels to standard measurements, so that they could be

converted into ships of war at short notice. These ships could

not be sold outside the Serene Republic, and at the end of a

voyage must be returned in good condition to the arsenal.

It was inevitable that Venice and Genoa should begin a long

conflict for supremacy, and this was now under way.

The great princes of Europe also had their personal quar

rels, in which men-at-arms were well paid, in addition to

loot. It was less profitable and much more hazardous to enlist

in a crusade.

In fact the crusader was growing out of joint with his time.

Evidence of that was not lacking. Even the late crusade

of St. Louis had been carried on in the face of some opposition

at home. The emperor Frederick had tried to head it off, and

394 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

on receiving tidings of the French king s capture at Mansura

had written to the sultan of Cairo, ostensibly offering to ran

som the prisoners, but actually to discover how long the

king and his vassals might be held in the hands of the Mos

lems. In England guards had been stationed at the ports to

keep would-be crusaders from embarking.

At Damietta St. Louis had almost been deserted by the

Italian fleet, and at Acre the Venetians and Genoese had

ignored him altogether to carry on their new war fortifying

themselves within their warehouses, and raiding each other s

shipping in the port. St. Louis had appealed in vain for rein

forcements from Europe.

And after his return men did not hesitate to protest against

the fruitless crusade.

I have heard many say [so Joinville wrote] that those who had

advised him to go upon this crusade had been guilty of a great

crime and a deadly sin. So long as he remained in his kingdom

of France, everything went well enough, and the people lived in

peace and security; but when he left the kingdom, matters went

badly.

Nor would Joinville, in spite of the love he bore St. Louis,

volunteer for another crusade, in 1270.

The king of France and the king of Navarre pressed me urgently

to take the cross and go upon a pilgrimage with them. But I replied

that when I went beyond the sea before on the service of God, the

officers of France had so grievously oppressed my people that I

found them in a state of poverty from which we only recovered

with difficulty. I saw clearly that if I were to undertake another

crusade, my people would be ruined.

In these generations the power of the feudal barons was

waning, and yielding place to the authority of the kings.

Two centuries before the kings had been only nominal over

lords of the barons overshadowed in turn by the supreme

authority of the emperor and the pope. Now that the con

cept of a single emperor had been shattered, and the prestige

THE TIDE EBBS 395

of the popes had suffered, leadership lay with the kings.

Nations had emerged from the welter of dukedoms and

counties; frontiers had solidified, more or less.

Especially in France, in Hungary, England, and Aragon,

with its twin Castile, the national mold had hardened.

Italian city-republics likewise were becoming self-contained

and independent. Where the crusades had passed continually

through southern Germany, commercial towns were taking

root. Charters were no longer a scrap of paper, and embryo

parliaments made themselves heard. The power of gold also

was felt, although not acknowledged. Bankers of Florence

sat in the council chamber of princes.

It was no longer possible to unite the princes, the prelates,

and bankers of Europe in a general crusade. And if a single

monarch took the cross and voyaged over the sea, his affairs

suffered and his neighbors took advantage of his absence.

A new crusade meant a decisive sacrifice, and monarchs

who had taken the vow to go managed to postpone the event,

or have their vows commuted.

Only the Church of Rome persisted tirelessly in agitating

for new crusades. Heedless of the loss of life, and the growing

list of lost battles, the papal court kept at its task. Since the

reign of Innocent III it had lost prestige, which it hoped to

regain by recruiting new armies of the Church. To do this, it

called upon the preaching friars, and organized bands of

preachers to visit all the towns.

Specimen sermons were copied out, as ammunition for

these sponsors of the war. Arguments, ready prepared, were

furnished them, to combat the inertia of their listeners.

These arguments, copied in numerous tracts, make curious

reading.

They mention Constantine, the emperor who championed

Christianity, and St. Helena, who was believed to have dis

covered the true cross, and Justinian and his wife, who found,

so it was said, a treasure hidden under a marble table bearing

the cross, and Archbishop Turpin, who fought so stoutly

against the Moors, and the leaders of the great first crusade

Godfrey of Bouillon and Raymond and Tancred who

396 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

by now appeared in saintly guise. The speech of Urban at

Clermont was combed over for stirring phrases.

As to personal arguments, the tracts set forth that men s

bodies were in reality the fief of God, to be risked for Him.

That it was necessary to avenge the injury done the Holy

Land by the infidels. That even the Saracens made pilgrim

ages to their holy places. That the crusades aided chivalry

and earned salvation for the cross bearers. As for the defeats

had not God since the beginning of the world suffered poison

ous weeds to grow among healthy plants ?

The Church of Rome never accepted responsibility for the

defeats, explaining that the military command in the crusades

had been held by princes and officers outside the Church.

Now the preachers laid greater stress than ever upon ma

terial and selfish gains to be had from the crusades special

indulgences of long duration remission of sins protection

of goods at home freedom from payment of interest and

tithes. And the preachers were told how to combat objections.

If a man was held back by love of his wife did not Eve

cause the first fall of man? If he would not leave his home,

was it not the vice of avarice or gluttony that restrained him ?

If he feared the peril of the sea, or sickness, was he not like a

palfrey that ambles about the countryside while the charger

goes forth to war? If he still refused to go, he might be roused

by taunts of "farm fowl" or "Flanders cow" supposed

to stay all the day attached to the house by a rope or " fresh

water fish" that turns tail and flees from the smell of salt

water.

These teams of preachers held services at altar and chapel.

The master preacher would deliver his sermon, to stir the

crowd. " Come, let not one of you refuse the cross, the cross

that is the investiture of the esteemed kingdom desired by

all men "

After that, hymns . . . Vexilla regls , . . "Now then, who

wishes the blessing of God? Who loves the society of the

angels? Who sighs for the crown incorruptible? Draw near,

that you may receive the cross and obtain everything!"

Then, the collection, to be forwarded to the officers of the

church. A time and place announced for the embarkation,

THE TIDE EBBS 397

under so-and-so as leader. The friar, now present, would be

there at the ship, to go with the cross-bearers over the sea.

So the black-robed preachers harangued the throngs, and

the people of the hamlets listened, troubled in mind but ob

durate. Old crusaders stood in the throngs and took no part

in the service. Sometimes youths volunteered to go, or men

with a burden of sin to be cleansed. But for the most part the

throngs would not yield to the persuasion of the preachers.

They looked stolidly on, while the women across the aisle

prayed that they would not go. They thought of other proces

sions, of black crosses carried in mourning, and the thin

groups of crusaders returning from Palestine poverty ridden,

the flesh wasted on their bones perhaps bearing the scars

of the plague.

Jerusalem yes, they would like to see Jerusalem. But

Saladin had swept away all the Holy Land in a single march,

in the day of their great-grandfathers. Even the mighty

Barbarossa and valiant Coeur de Lion and the saintly king

Louis had not won it back again. Where they had failed,

who could succeed?

Where had all the treasure gone, that had been poured

into the alms boxes of the churches these many years? What

had become of the crusaders who had never gained sight of

Palestine? What had been done with the children who went

off in the Italian ships?

And these Moslems, they were not servants of Evil as the

monks had related in other days; they were assuredly not

demons. Why attack them rather than Jews or Prussians?

They no longer crossed the sea to enter Christendom. What

good could come of going oversea to their lands? Let well

enough alone.

So the throngs listened to the preachers of Rome, and

turned away without response.

The next move came from the east, not from the west. It

was no orderly crusade, but a mad and strange march from

the limbo of Cathay. The Mongols rode to Jerusalem,

LIII

HULAGXJ AND THE KALIF

ATHER, the Mongols rode past Jerusalem. And at their

coming the whole scheme of things shifted. They had

appeared before, only to turn back to their deserts.

Now they came to stay, and where are the words to tell of

their coming?

A vast and elemental force, like the winds and the earth

shakings of the world a human power that could make its

way over the barrier ranges of high Asia, and cross the barren

plains an animal-like intelligence, heedless of human

suffering, avid of all that was new and precious impulsive

as a child, and still wise with the old wisdom of Cathay.

Behind the warriors who overturned city walls and changed

rivers in their courses, rode the mandarins who brought order

out of chaos.

Behind them other hordes, in the snows of Russia and in the

tiled courts of Cathay. Remote and redoubted, the Kha Khan,

master of the hordes, in his nomads court at Karakorum,

ruler of the known world from Venice to Korea. Thirty cara

vans a day bringing him tribute that he did not trouble to

count, and captive princes who prostrated themselves before

398

HULAGU AND THE KALIF 399

him. Couriers bearing his letters across the plains, two hun

dred miles in a day and as much in a night. Conjurers, jesters,

harlots, ministers, and hermits thronging round his guards

men to gain sight of him. A million soldiers obedient to his

commands.

The great khan had ordered his brother Hulagu to march

to the south and the east, to take possession of the lands of

Islam.

So, a little after St. Louis left Acre, the horde of Hulagu

Khan crossed the ranges and moved leisurely toward Bagh

dad, with its trains of ox carts creaking behind it, and strings

of camels threading across the plains. The Mongol horsemen

sat in their sheepskins upon saddles covered with cloth-of-

gold the nobles who commanded them wore sable robes

covered by silver-gray wolfskins, while their reins were

weighted with silver and the hilts of their weapons flamed

with precious stones. In the regiments, behind the horse-tail

standards or long blue banners, trotted stalwart Turks and

swarthy Kirghiz, and slender Uigurs nomad Christians

who had joined the hordes. Bearded Afghans and hawk-

nosed Turkomans followed the horde as jackals follow the

lion when he hunts. There was even a regiment of Chinese

engineers, to handle the pao yu, the artillery. 1

The horde moved slowly as a juggernaut car, but as surely.

It quartered itself in Khorassan and the mountain region of

Persia. And there its scouts discovered the citadels of the

Assassins, who had made the mistake of slaying a Mongol

general. Without haste Hulagu s officers studied the moun

tain strongholds and negotiated with the master of the As

sassins, who erred a second time when he tired to out-do

them in trickery. The end of it was that the master was sent

to the great khan, and was never beheld again, while Alamut

and his other eyries were besieged methodically and torn to

pieces.

The Mongols learned the use of gunpowder from the Chinese, who manufactured

it long before the Europeans. It is often said that the Chinese were aware of the

fusive effect of gunpowder, but not of its detonating properties. This is not the case.

They exploded powder in cumbersome bombs, and in a kind of mortar, to terrify

hostile cavalry. They also used it in mines. But they did not make serviceable cannon

until taught by Europeans three or four centuries later.

400 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

That was the last of the Old Man of the Mountain and his

order, in the mountains of Persia.

The horde settled down before Baghdad, and the last of

the kalifs penned himself behind his walls, closing his gates

against the pagan invaders. Baghdad was stormed and sacked

so remorselessly that all the peoples of Islam heard the tid

ings with terror.

The kalif was smothered to death under carpets, and

with him vanished the splendor of the court of Baghdad.

This done, the horde separated and overcame resistance

elsewhere. The amir of Mosul rendered submission to them;

the Seljuks were driven before them into the north of Asia

Minor and ceased to play a part in affairs thereafter. Damas

cus yielded, and Aleppo was stormed and its citadel dis

mantled.

Before this the Armenian king Haython had journeyed to

Mangu, the great khan, and not only made his peace but an

alliance with the pagans. Bohemund VI, prince of Antioch,

shared in this alliance, paying a small tribute to the Mongols.

Mangu, the great khan, heard Haython s appeal, and an

nounced that the Mongols would support the Christians in

Syria and Armenia. The khan added that he was sending his

brother Hulagu to cast down the kalif and to restore Jeru

salem.

Hulagu s secretaries sent a letter to St. Louis, saying:

"We have many Christians among our people. We are

come with authority and power to announce that all Chris

tians are to be freed from servitude and taxes in Moslem

lands, and are to be treated with honor and reverence. No

one is to molest their goods, and whatever churches have

been destroyed are to be rebuilt, and are to be allowed to

sound their plates."

When they entered Damascus, the Mongols turned over

to the Christians 1 several mosques that had once been

churches.

*It must not be forgotten that in nearly all the Moslem lands there were native

Christians Kopts, Syrians, Armenians, and Georgians. These were more or less

oppressed, and the Mongol inroad did more to free them than all the efforts of the

HULAGU AND THE KALIF 401

When they entered northern Syria in 1259, the year after

the fall of Baghdad, there was rejoicing among the native

Christians. An angered Muhammadan wrote:

"Every religious sect proclaims its faith openly, and no

Moslem dares disapprove. Every Chris tian, whether of the

common people or the highest, has put on his finest garments

and gone forth to sing."

A spasm of unlooked-for hope seized Europe. The terrible

horde had retired from the Danube a generation before, and

now the benevolent horde was approaching the Jordan.

This might be a new miracle.

Already Innocent IV and St. Louis had sent preaching

friars to the desert city of Karakorum in the Gobi, and the

Mongols had sent them back with scrupulous care. The

friars had not managed to convert the great khan, but they

had found him human and amiable. And they had found

besides throngs of Nestorian Christians converts of the

disciplies of the early days of Christianity who had held to

their faith although isolated for a thousand years in the

Far East. The great khan tolerated all religions, but he was

angered by the Muhammadans with whom he was then at

war, and friendly to the Christians. Moreover, he sent letters

to the pope, and asked for ambassadors and a group of

philosophers to visit him and teach him.

And now his brother, Hulagu, who had overrun the heart

of Islam, sought contact with the crusaders in the Holy Land.

The Armenians exulted in the alliance their king Haython

had made with the master of the horde; wild tales passed

from hamlet to hall that the kingdom of Prester John had

been discovered at last in the East that the magicians of

Cathay had appeared in fire and smoke.

The Venetians insinuated themselves into the good graces

of the conquerors, and the two elder Polos, Messrs Nicolo

crusaders. By this time there were also thousands of captive crusaders and their

offspring.

These lost crusaders seldom appear In the pages of history. Some were ransomed

by the military orders; some trickled back to Europe overland there is a highway

in the Caucasus known to this day as the Road of the Crusaders. But most of them

were submerged in the flux of the Near East and survive only in legends and tales

told to travelers. Several times the present writer ran across such legends in Syria.

4 o2 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

and MafFeo, prepared to set out to Cathay. Voyagers thronged

into the long road that led past Samarkand to the East. It

was a day of miracles in which anything could happen.

The Templars, watching events with appraising eyes,

begged the European courts urgently to make peace with

Egypt. In the crisis the three military orders buried jhzir

quarrels of the past and made common cause to defend them

selves on their strip of coast. They besought Rome to bring

about a binding military alliance with the Mongols.

But the papal Curia, involved in civil war and passing

from one interregnum to another, did nothing except to

send out two other preaching friars. The golden opportunity

was lost, and to make matters worse, Rome still sounded the

trumpet blast of war against the mamluks, thus neglecting

the Mongols, antagonizing Egypt, and sacrificing the cru

saders on the coast of the Holy Land.

Only the Mongols could have restored Jerusalem to the

Christians. And when Hulagu Khan was at the threshold of

Palestine in 1259 he had tidings of the death of the great

khan Mangu. By the old custom of the horde, he was forced

to return at once to Karakorum, taking his army with him.

Haython prevailed upon him before his departure to

leave a single division of 10,000 horsemen under Ketbogha,

to hold Syria. Either because the Armenians persuaded him,

or because Ketbogha wished to carry on the campaign him

self, this division of the horde rode down through Palestine,

past Jerusalem, driving the Moslems from Hebron and Bait-

Jebrail.

So, at the southern end of Palestine, the Mongols came

face to face with the outposts of the mamluks.

Before then the horde had sent an ominous message to

Cairo. "These are the words of Him who rules the earth

tear down your walls and submit. If you do so, peace will be

granted you. If you do otherwise, that will happen which

will happen, and what it is to be we know not. God alone

knows."

Cairo was divided between anger and fear of the Mongols.

Most of the mamluks favored submission, but Baibars called

for war himself a Tatar escaped from the Golden Horde.

ALAMUT, CITADEL OF THE ASSASSINS

Besieged by the Mongol horde. From a Fifteenth Century

Persian illumination.

COURTESY OF BLOCHET LES ENLUMINURES DES MANUSCRITS ORIENTAUX

SULTAN K ALA W UN S TOMB

Interior of Sultan Kalawun s tomb in Cairo. Erected with

plundered columns and splendid alabaster work,

mosaics, and wood carving.

HULAGU AND THE KALIF 403

When Hulagu departed for the Gobi, Baibars prevailed upon

the sultan to advance against Ketbogha. To make certain of

war, he had the Mongol envoys put to death.

There followed, in 1260, the Battle of Ain Jalut near Gaza.

The host of the mamluks met Ketbogha s division, and the

Mongols, without support of any kind, weakened by the

great heat and outnumbered, were broken and driven north,

out of Palestine, and through Syria.

Baibars, exulting in his victory, pressed forward without

respite. Ketbogha was slain, and the scattered horsemen of

the horde in their strange bronze breastplates and dark

enameled helmets, their horses weighted down by leather

housing, passed with their yak-tail banner beneath the walls

of Hebron, by the gray, deserted cathedral of Bethlehem,

through the gorge of the Jordan as the wrack of thorn-bush

and dust flies before the wind storm of the plains. Like the

whirling wind of the desert, they sped over the dry lands of

beyond- Jordan they swam the Euphrates, and vanished

before the black banners of the mamluks.

Baibars, in his pursuit, captured Damascus for his sultan,

and overrode the country as far as Aleppo.

For the first time since the triumph of Genghis Khan, the

Mongol horsemen had met their match. The real test of

strength between the riders of the Gobi and the slave-

warriors of Cairo was still to come; but in this lightning

rush of events in the year 1260, Hulagu had passed from the

scene, taking with him the hope of a Mongol conquest of

Jerusalem, and Baibars had appeared in his place. Jerusalem

now belonged to the mamluks.

And Baibars wrote finis to the year in his own fashion.

Expecting the province of Aleppo as reward for his victory,

he was disappointed by his sultan. Straightway he killed his

overlord, and was himself proclaimed sultan of Cairo,

Father of Victory and Pillar of the Faith.

It is time, and more than time, to look at Baibars, the

Panther, who had in this typically spectacular manner ar

rived at the summit of his ambition.

LIV

THE PANTHER LEAPS

T is strange that the character who comes out before the

curtain of this final act of the crusades should have been

a clown, A gorgeous and sinister Pagliacci, who sang his

own prologo and shook with inextinguishable laughter even

when he crept across the stage with dagger drawn.

No doubt he appears mad, but he is not. He plays the

tricks of a clown to amuse himself, but he is not a clown.

He is delighted because he has driven the horsemen of the

horde like wild mares across the stage at his entrance, yet it

pleases him better to disappear altogether from our sight.

He is quite capable of coming on again as a beggar or a

wandering crossbowman, or a solitary feaster at a banquet

and woe to the fellow player who gives his identity away.

He is, in brief, a true actor of the East that we have never un

derstood, and he is a great actor. One of his audience, the

friar William of Tripoli, said that, as a soldier, he was not

inferior to Julius Caesar, nor did he yield in malignity to

Nero.

Look at him in his natural person, and you will behold a

giant in stature, his hair red, his broad face sun darkened;

one eye blue, the other whitened by the scar that blinded it;

404

THE PANTHER LEAPS 405

all of his six feet clad in the colored silks, the velvet vest and

wide girdle cloth, the gold-inlaid armor pieces, the black-

and-gold khalat, the turban-wound helmet of a mamluk who

was also sultan. His left hand is his sword hand.

Consider his past a Tatar of the Golden Horde, a desert-

bred fighter, sold at Damascus for a slave at a price of about

ninety dollars and returned on account of the blemish in his

eye. He called himself the Crossbowman when he joined the

roistering White Slaves of the River and became a leader of

men who were intolerant of leaders.

Probably Baibars himself could not have named over the

full list of his battles. We know that he helped wipe out the

crusaders at Gaza in 1 244, that he was one of Pearl Spray s

triumvirate, and that his counter-attack at Mansura broke

the heart of St. Louis and overthrew the chivalry of France.

Alone, he set himself across the path of the great khan and

defeated a Mongol army. With his own hand he wounded one

sultan of Egypt and slew another. His soldiers spoke of him

as Malik Dahir, the Triumphant King.

But he is really the Commander of the Faithful, the good

kalif of the Thousand and One Nights. True, the name in the

tales is that of Haroun the Blessed; the deeds, however, are

Baibars . He, not the cold and cautious Haroun of two cen

turies before, feasted gigantically and passed his days in

disguise among his people; he appointed porters to be princes,

and made princes into porters to gratify a whim; he assem

bled the fairest girls of that part of the world, to add variety

to his harem. Eventually a Christian woman of Antioch be

came his favorite wife.

The real scene of the Thousand and One Nights is not

Baghdad but Cairo. 1 The river with its pleasure barges rowed

by slaves is the Nile, not the Tigris. The unruly slaves are

the mamluks.

*The origin of the tales known as the Arabian Nights is, of course, Indian and

Persian to a great extent. The name and some incidents of the life of Haroun ar

Raschid, kalif of Baghdad, have been added by the story tellers. But scholars have

made certain that the collection of the tales centered in Cairo, and that the deeds

attributed to Haroun are really Baibars for the most part. For one thing, the coarse

humor and the comedy are Egyptian, not Arabian. And the references to Christian

knights and crusaders belong to Baibars day.

4 o6 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Among the many roles played by Baibars that of the

sultan-in-disguise appealed most to the fancy of his people.

Incognito, with his cup companions, he would raid the public

baths to carry off the choicest women. Unattended, he would

mount his horse and go off, to appear the next day in Pales

tine on the fourth day in the Arabian desert. He had all a

Tatar s ability to ride far and fast. He played court tennis

at Damascus, and eight hundred miles away at Cairo

in the same week. He would ride in at the triple gate of

Aleppo s gray citadel when the garrison believed him feasting

on the Nile.

His counselors were not enlightened as to his plans or else

their noses were led to the wrong scent. For all his Moslems

knew, their sultan might be listening at their elbow, or at

sea a thousand miles away the building of a new fleet was

one of his pet projects. He might be a tall mamluk sitting his

horse under a gate, or a tall antelope hunter out with leopards

beyond the sheep pastures, or a tall stranger from Persia

rocking in prayer at the elbow of the kadi reading from the

Koran in the chief mosque. His people took pains not to

identify him, because Baibars, incognito, would cut off the

head of a man who salaamed to him or cried his name in a

moment of forgetfulness. They dreaded his coming, even while

they listened exultingly to the growing tale of his exploits

and shivered with terror.

Baibars was a sultan after their own hearts. The story

teller of the bazaar corner and the blind man sitting in the

sun of the mosque courtyard were his minstrels. Who could

relate the full tale of his daring? Or his zeal for Islam?

Or his championship of the holy war? The Thousand and

One tales grew up around him, but they did not relate the

whole.

He had Saladin s secret of victory, and he became as strict

a Moslem as the son of Ayub although in his private excur

sions he allowed himself license enough. He closed the wine

shops and burned the stores of hashish, but secretly he drank

the fermented mare s milk of the Tatars. What Saladin had

accomplished by will power, and Richard of England had

THE PANTHER LEAPS 407

achieved by nervous energy, the Panther surpassed by sheer

abounding vitality.

He joined in the archery tests of his mamluks, and outdid

them; he wielded his cane spear in the jousting field, and

overthrew them; he hastened to the polo field; he hunted

with leopards during a march, and his horses won the races.

He surrounded his gigantic person with all the splendor of a

conqueror with Viceroy, Master of the Horse, Lord of the

Drums, Grand Huntsman, Polo-bearer, Slipper-holder, Lord

of the Chair, and all the fellowship of the black eunuchs.

Horns and drums heralded his approach, when he played his

public role of sultan. To soldiers who caught his fancy, he

gave emeralds or Christian girls or estates in Damascus, as

the fancy struck him. At a suspicion of revolt he beheaded

1 80 lords of Cairo.

And yet he had a canny sense of finance. In the first days

of his sultanate he reduced all taxes, while he met his enor

mous expenditures by levies on conquered territory. He built

hospitals out of tribute paid by brothels, then he closed the

brothels although he kept boys around him for his own

amusement. He gleaned money for his fleet by raiding the

Italian merchantmen, and then forced Venice and Genoa he

delighted in playing one off against the other to pay high

for the privileges of the Egyptian ports.

He could be a most able administrator when he chose.

Letters brought to his headquarters were answered within

the day, and the answers dictated to his secretaries went out

swiftly by pigeon post, galloper, and fast galley. Language

was no barrier to this much-traveled tyrant; and when his

secretaries were brought to despair by one of his long ab

sences, he would be apt to dismount at his headquarters

and come in upon them unannounced, to work through the

night hours over communications in Greek, Arabic, Margra-

bian, Turkish. He exchanged letters and ambassadors with

Charles of Anjou and the Venetians, with the Spanish kings

and Conradin, the last of the Hohenstaufen.

By spies and merchants and friends among the Europeans,

he kept his finger on events, knowing that Germany was

4 o8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

divided in civil war, Italy prostrate after the long strife

between the emperor and pope, and the French crusaders

driven from Constantinople at last. He worked steadily

and effectively to isolate the crusaders in Syria from their

people in Europe.

The Panther had two ambitions to defeat the Mongol

khans, and to drive the crusaders out of the East. And, as

Saladin had done, he called for the jihad, the holy war against

the infidels.

Meanwhile for Baibars had too much common sense to

make war in haste he carried out certain preparations of

his own. To discourage another crusade by sea, he blocked

up the Damietta channel with rocks and moved the city

itself back up the river; he built signal towers along the coast,

organized a relay pigeon post between Cairo and Damascus.

To strengthen his frontiers, and to add to his treasury, he

seized Damascus treacherously, accusing its lord of allying

himself with the Mongols. Including the Armenians in this

accusation, he marched north and ravaged the hill castles

that had been secure even in Saladin s wars. With throngs

of captives, and an Armenian prince, and camel trains of

spoil, he left the mountain ranges and the ruins of the castles

smoking behind him. To impress Christian and Assassin

envoys who visited him during this march, he mutilated and

then put to death 500 Armenian captives.

To his men, on the eve of the jihad, he issued a proclama

tion that Napoleon might have given out before a new cam

paign:

"The king of the French, the king of England, the emperor

of Germany, and the Roman emperor have marched against

us aforetime. They have vanished like a storm chased by the

wind. May they come again! May he come, the king Charles,

and the Greek with him and even the Mongol. We will

enrich ourselves with their treasures, and will be glorified

as victors in the holy war."

In spite of this challenge, Baibars did not wish to call

down upon his head a general crusade. He kept his fingers

on the pulse of Europe through the Venetians, who now

frankly made alliances with the Moslems; and he kept an

THE PANTHER LEAPS 409

eye on the doings of the Mongols in Persia through his spies.

He had set his heart on clearing the crusaders from the coast

of the Holy Land which Saladin had not been able to

accomplish and he planned deftly to do this without rousing

Europe to a new crusade.

To march against the formidable knights who had been

strengthening their network of castles from Jaffa to Antioch

was a task calling for the utmost care and skill. Glory was to

be had, of course, in driving out the infidels, but hard knocks

and little spoil as well. Baibars did not underestimate his

foes in the slightest.

He wanted, of course, to round out his new empire by

clearing the coast. But, more than that, he looked upon this

task as a duty. Pagliacci had a soul, under all the paint and

pantomime.

During his peregrinations Baibars had examined most of

the crusader citadels, and he knew the ground thoroughly.

Some thirty fortified points confronted him, ranging from

huge Antioch, with its hundred thousand motley inhabitants,

to the Krak des Chevaliers, with its enormous walls and pop

ulation of soldiers, to small citadels of the sea like Tyre, and

isolated towers garrisoned by a few Templars or Hospitalers.

He understood that the crusaders were no longer able to

put an army in the field against him unless a new crusade

should be launched. So he made his plans to strike at the

citadels, one at a time, by swift thrusts that depended upon

surprise and weight of numbers and power of siege engines

for rapid success. Like Hannibal, he had a varied but devoted

host behind him, made up of trained mamluks, Berber and

Arab levies, with the negroes of the Sudan. Such a force,

even more than Saladin s, was formidable in victory but un~

dependable when checked for any time. And Baibars had all

a Tatar s instinct for secrecy and swiftness of action.

The crusaders knew when he led his army from Cairo for

the first blow in 1265. Baibars marched rapidly north from

Jerusalem, and they were watching for him around Acre

when his black standards suddenly appeared before the small

walled town of Caesarea in the south. His mamluks stormed

4 io THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the outer wall, and set up their siege engines brought

up in pieces on camel and mule back before the citadel

which held out for a week. The Panther turned over the

castle to his men to plunder, while he worked with his own

hands at razing the fortifications.

He had determined to destroy all the cities on the coast

which had been rallying points for the crusaders. While two

divisions of his cavalry overran Haifa and menaced Chateau

Pelerin just north of the lost Caesarea, Baibars turned south

with his infantry and siege engines and invested Arsuf.

The knights, watching from the parapet while the Moslems

set up their camp, noticed a solitary mamluk, a tall figure

in a long coat of mail that hung to his ankles and carrying

a shield, walking without haste between the lines. The Mos

lems did not point at the wanderer, or display any interest

in him while he inspected the foundation stones of the wall

and the gate towers. Nor did the knights observe that he had

one blue eye and one white eye.

They did see him presently, working the siege engines; and

when after a month Arsuf surrendered, they discovered him

to be the sultan. Baibars made the captives pull down the

walls stone by stone, and in spite of his promise to free

them paraded them in triumph into Cairo with their ban

ners reversed and broken crosses hanging from their necks.

It was his way of bringing the fruit of the jihad to Cairo.

And in the next year he had bloodier tokens to show for the

hill castle of Safed was beset, and when its weary Templars

surrendered they were put to death, all but one who turned

Moslem and one who was spared to carry the tidings of the

massacre to the remaining strongholds of the crusaders.

To the exulting mamluks, who had seen three citadels fall

to them, this was a sign of victory. The end of the unbelievers

was written in the Book of Fate, and what was written

would come to pass. They felt assured that they were the

instruments of fate, destined to reap with their swords the

final harvest of Christian lives that would atone for all the

past.

They did not realize that Baibars had blooded them care

fully upon three of the weakest strongholds, and by so doing

THE PANTHER LEAPS 411

had intimidated the other citadels. While the crusaders

appealed for armed aid from Haython, the Mongols, and

Europe, Baibars consented to take 15,000 pieces of gold

from Bohemund VI of Antioch, for a truce, while he went

north to punish Haython for daring to support the Mongols.

A tale is told that he wandered incognito into the far-dis

tant country of Asia Minor, where at a roadside pastry shop

he dismounted to eat fruit and cake. When he went out of

the shop, he left his ring on a table. After he rejoined his army

he sent a courier to the Mongol Il-khan, explaining that he

had lost his signet ring in a certain pastry shop belonging to

the khan and asking that it be returned to him.

Even on the path of war, Baibars would have his jest. He

was vastly amused, no doubt, the next year, when he heard

that the Venetians and Genoese their feud being then at its

height had fought a naval battle off the coast of the Holy

Land. But he heard also that St. Louis, informed of the

situation in Palestine, had taken the cross again and was

assembling his second great crusade.

A LETTER TO BOHEMUND

E news spurred Baibars to make his real effort in the

following spring 1268. In March he appeared without

warning before the gates of Jaffa, the only town re

maining to the crusaders in the south. He stormed it, tore it

down, and sent its marble columns back to Cairo to enrich a

new mosque, the Dahira. These massive marbles had been

shaped by skilled Greek hands in forgotten times; now, seized

by the eager hands of ragged fellahis, they were reared into

place within the courtyard of baked clay while the human

swarms of the alleys and the ragged watermen of the Nile

chanted in admiration of the work of the Triumphant King.

Baibars, with his armored horsemen, his creaking carts and

camel trains, with his silk-clad negroes herding captive cru

saders in chains, with frantic dervishes screaming an endless

song of victory, climbed to the cold Lebanon and set up his

engines before Belfort. The castle that had defied Saladin

held out for only ten days, and the sultan s eunuchs had new

captives to scourge along the road.

Then the army went down to graze its horses and to reap

412

A LETTER TO BOHEMUND 413

the harvest of the fields of Banyas where the waters of the

Jordan come to the surface of the earth beneath a red cliff.

And Baibars disappeared. 1

A day or so later a party of envoys from the sultan entered

the double gate of Tripoli s castle, and demanded speech with

Bohemund VI, whom they called the count. They were led

to the upper courtyard, where knights and men-at-arms

gathered round them, and Bohemund made his appearance

on a tower stairway. He had come down from his city of

Antioch that his ancestor, the first Bohemund, had wrested

from the Turks nearly two centuries before. And two cen

turies of luxury, surrounded by Greeks and served by Syrians,

had left their mark on the prince of Antioch who was Norman

only in lineage. He had bought a peace from Baibars, but

still, being fearful, he had journeyed south to Tripoli, his

other city, to watch events.

The leader of the Egyptian envoys spoke to him boldly,

addressing him as Count Bohemund, and accusing him of

breaking the terms of the truce.

But Bohemund still had something of Norman pride, and

he whispered to his chamberlain, who upbraided the envoys.

"Shape better your tongues or be silent. It is well known to

all men that my lord is prince of Antioch, and by that title

must you address him."

The mamluk who was leader of the envoys glanced about

him covertly and hesitated. Then he shook his head.

x The amazing speed of the Panther s movements, as well as his genius for decep

tion, rendered him invisible to the eyes of the harassed crusaders.

In this spring he was before Jaffa, 7 March then superintended the rebuilding

of Hebron with its great mosque at Belfort, 5 April Banyas, 25 April arranged

for a new patrol and courier system (a kind of mounted police and pony express

combined) to be carried out by the nomad Turkomans in Tripoli in disguise,

i May captured Antioch, 1 5 May.

Antioch is some 500 miles from Jaffa by road. Baibars took Jaffa in 12 hours and

Antioch in 30. Such maneuvering fairly outdid Saladin s greatest efforts. It took

Saladin months to reduce Belfort, and three days to capture the outer wall of Jaffa,

and he never ventured to besiege Antioch.

Baibars* rapidity of movement equaled some of the marches of Genghis Khan

and Tamerlane. It must be remembered that he had Tatars and central Asia Turks

under him he was one of the spectacular leaders of the new influx from mid-Asia

that overwhelmed the hard-fighting crusaders, and in the next century swept

over their lines into Europe itself.

4 i 4 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

"Thus was the message given me, to Al Komas y the Count.

And not otherwise may I say what was said to me/

The brow of the prince darkened, and he signed to his

men-at-arms to surround the Moslems and seize them.

As he did so one of them, a tall groom who had been holding

the horses, wandered over to the leading mamluk. In so

doing the groom touched the officer s foot, and the mamluk

spoke at once to Bohemund.

"Yah Brens Prince, content ye!"

The point was yielded by the Moslems, and their message

delivered. While the talk went on, the tall groom continued

his wanderings round the courtyard, staring up with his one

good eye at the walls, at the weapons of the garrison, and at

Bohemund himself. When the prince of Antioch dismissed

his visitors, the groom neglected to hold the stirrups of the

mamluks. He mounted a charger himself and rode off among

them. And outside the gate of the town, he rocked in the

saddle, roaring with laughter.

"To the devil with all countships and princedoms!" he

cried.

Baibars had added the part of a groom to his other roles,

and the experience amused him vastly. Perhaps it suggested

to him what followed, or perhaps he had already planned it

out. He disappeared again from the valley below B any as,

but this time he took the pick of his army with him.

Two weeks later, at the end of May, a letter arrived at the

castle of Tripoli for Bohemund. It was brought by an un

armed Moslem not the sultan in disguise this time who

disappeared after it was taken from him.

Bohemund, opening the missive, beheld at the foot of it

Baibar s heavy signature. And when he had read it through

he sat without moving or speaking, as if stunned by an un

seen blow. When his companions knew the contents of the

letter, amazement and sorrow kept them silent. The letter

was the masterpiece of the versatile sultan.

"Greeting to the Count," it began. "And commiseration

upon his misfortune, inflicted by Allah, who hath deprived

him of his princedom and left to him for consolation only his

countship. Know, O Count, thou who believest thyself to

A LETTER TO BOHEMUND 415

be prince of Antioch art not for WE are lord of Antioch,

thy rich and fruitful city.

"Sword in hand, we swept through thy city on the fourth

hour of Saturday, the fourth day of Ramadan. If thou hadst

seen thy knights rolled under the hoofs of our horses ! Thy

palaces trampled by the plunderers who filled their bags

with booty! Thy treasures weighed out by the heaviest

weights ! Thy fair women hawked in the streets at four for a

dinar and bought with thine own gold!

"If thou hadst seen thy churches broken in, their crosses

shattered, their lying gospels tossed from hand to hand in the

open under the sun, the tombs of thy noble forefathers

overturned, while thy foe the Moslems trod upon thy Holy

of Holies, slaughtering monks and priests and deacons like

sheep, leading out the rich to misery, and nobles of thy

blood to slavery!

"Couldst thou have seen the flames licking up thy halls

thy dead cast into the flames temporal while the flames eter

nal awaited them the churches of the Apostles rocking and

going down . . . Then wouldst thou have said, God, that I

were dust! y

"Since no man of thine hath escaped to tell thee the tale,

i TELL IT THEE!"

In this way the Panther ended the dispute as to whether

Bohemund was prince or count.

He had written only the truth. His horsemen surprised

the great city, and stormed the hastily guarded wall that

had been thought impregnable, and the gardens of the cru

saders were drenched in the blood of a fearful massacre. Eight

thousand souls crowded into the citadel on the height above

Antioch, and these were granted their lives. ^

The Moslems snatched from the burning city spoil almost

beyond counting gold was tallied by the vase-full, and

young girl slaves were handed about among the camelmen

for five dirhems a head. The blow had fallen like lightning

from a fair sky, and within a week Antioch was populated

only by swarms of merchants and thieves, grubbing in the

ruins and bargaining for spoil in the markets.

In the south, the crusaders heard the tidings with incredu-

4 i 6 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

lity. But except for the unfortunate Bohemund it affected

them little, since Antioch had grown apart from the Holy

Land generations before. They waited anxiously to learn

where Baibars would strike next he had lopped off the

extreme south and the north of their line of citadels that

year.

But in the next spring 1269 Baibars contented himself

with some grim maneuvers. He vanished for a while, allowing

the report to be sent forth that he was dead. Apparently he

had been criticized for his treachery in breaking his treaties

with the Christians, and wished in this way to trick them

into giving him cause for a fresh invasion.

Twice he failed to surprise the black stronghold of Mar-

ghab, held by the Hospitalers. Once he materialized without

armor and with forty horsemen on the summit of the hill

of the Krak, under the castle walls. He challenged the knights

to come out to individual combat, and rode off again. He

harvested the fields of the knights and staged a small triumph

ornamented with Christian heads in Damascus. But in reality

he was holding his army in readiness to meet the crusade of

St. Louis.

The energetic sultan, however, did more than await the

coming of the French king. On learning the numbers and

strength of the crusade which included the forces of Charles

of Anjou, the chivalry of Navarre, and a small contingent

of English led by their prince Edward he attempted to turn

it aside and succeeded.

At Baibars urging, the Moslem lord of Tunis wrote to

St. Louis that he was prepared to aid the crusaders against

the sultan, and inviting them to land upon the African coast

in his territory. He sent also a large sum of money to prove

his good faith. Just how the intrigue was carried out, and

how the king was induced to sail to Tunis, is not known. 1

*It is said that his brother, Charles of Anjou, then king of the Two Sicilies, per

suaded him to land at Tunis to conquer that coast for the French arms and to rid

the neighboring sea of the troublesome Moslem pirates. But it seems evident that

Charles joined the crusade reluctantly since it forced him to abandon his own plans

in the East. Many others embarked without enthusiasm, being constrained to join

the crusade by the devout king. It was purely a personal undertaking on the part of

St. Louis and was abandoned at once after his death.

A LETTER TO BOHEMUND 417

Suffice it that he went thither, as Baibars had desired, in

July, 127-.

Landing in that time of heat and dust, after the country

had been desolated by a famine, St. Louis found that the

amir of Tunis had betrayed him, and that the Moslems were

in arms against him. The crusaders pressed the siege of the

white-walled city, above the stagnant salt marshes, in spite

of the dust storms that swept through their camps, and the

bad water, and the harrying of the Berber clans who rode

down from the southern hills.

Beholding them so situated, a poet of Tunis recalled the

poem of victory sung at Cairo twenty years before, and he

wrote:

King of France, thou wilt find this land a sister of Egypt: prepare

theefor what fate hath in store for thee here.

Thou wilt find here the tomb, in place of the house of Lokman; and

thy eunuch here will be the Angel of Death!

Fate added the gift of prophecy to the wit of the Moslem

singer. Within a month the plague made its appearance in

the Christian host, and the king was afflicted with his son

who had been born in the stress of the terrible days at

Damietta and who was now entering manhood.

They carried the weakening St. Louis out to the shore,

near the hills where once Carthage had reared its walls. Here,

under the scattered eucalyptus and cedars, a breath of cool

air came in from the sea. The king and his son lay on blan

kets, stretched on the brown wisps of dead grass and poppies

under open pavilions.

The servants of the Church ministered to them, but could

not check the plague in the bodies weakened by dysentery.

The son died before the father. And the day came when the

thin form of the king turned on its side, and his voice was

heard:

"God have mercy on these, Thy people . . . lead them to

safety in their own land . . . O Jerusalem! Jerusalem !"

Within a week the height over the red bluff was deserted.

4 i 8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

The crusaders had left, taking with them the body of their

dead king.

The Arab shepherds and the brown sheep returned to the

shore, the muezzins called from the small towers in the white-

walled villages. The warriors of the tribes rode in, to look at

the remnants of the crusaders camps, and lean dervishes

pointed out the spot where St. Louis had died.

So the crusade came to its end in vain the last of the

great crusades.

Such were the tidings that reached Cairo, and filled Baibars

with infinite satisfaction. He himself had seen St. Louis in

chains at Mansura, and now thanks to the trap he had set

for him at Tunis the great king of the crusaders was being

carried to his tomb. The fire of the jihad seized upon the

men of Cairo anew, and Baibars decided to break down the

strongest outpost of the knights in the Holy Land.

In the spring, 1271, he led his terrible siege circus against

the Krak des Chevaliers, the headquarters of the Hospitalers.

For more than a century this square citadel of white stone

had crowned the bare hills at the edge of the Assassin coun

try. Unchallenged, even by Saladin, it had guarded approach

to the Templar s little town of Tortosa and Tripoli on the

coast.

Two weeks after Baibars set up his engines on the plateau

where the stone aqueduct runs into the southern bastions

of the Krak, the mighty citadel drew down its banners and

surrendered, the surviving knights being allowed to go forth

with their lives. 1

1 Baibars invariable success in these sieges was due to the Mongol siege tactics

he adopted. He had, of course, the best of engines, and from the moment of his arrival

on the scene the attack was pressed, the fanatical Moslems making assaults at all

hours while the engines opened a gap in the walls. The defenders were obliged to

remain under arms constantly, harassed by smoke bombs and flame throwers. No aid

could be expected from outside, and by now a sally was impossible in the face of

Baibars* numbers.

By 1270, the sultan s army had been modeled on the Mongol units, with adapta

tions of his own. His household mamluks, Bahriyah mamluks and halka (Guard)

of 10,000 each formed the regulars, and they were divided in turn into (a) expe

rienced cavalry (b) swordsmen on foot (c) reserve (d) recruits still under test.

His war levies consisted of the Nouwair Arabs, Bedawins, Arabs from Irak and

A LETTER TO BOHEMUND 419

Baibars repaired the damage done to the walls, and placed

an inscription with his name and the date of the capture upon

one of the towers. He intended to use the great fortress as a

base for future operations against the coast. And he wrote

to Hugh of Revel, commander of the Hospitalers, announcing

his achievement:

"To Brother Hugh. We will make clear to thee what God

hath just now done for us. Thou didst fortify this place, and

didst trust the guard of it to the choicest of thy brethren.

Well! Thou hast done nothing but hasten their deaths, and

their deaths will be thy loss/

The Panther was now the neighbor of his victim, Bohe-

mund, formerly prince of Antioch and now merely count of

Tripoli. With his mamluks, the sultan raided the fields of

Tripoli, gathering in crops and fruits and sugar cane.

Bohemund, shut up within his castle at Tripoli, made the

natural mistake of protesting that Baibars had broken the

truce for which the count had paid anew. Baibars was not at

loss for a reply.

"Nay, I have come only to gather in thy harvests, and the

vintages of thy vines. By God, I hope to pay thee a like visit

each year!"

Bohemund could do nothing but keep to the shelter of his

castle, and later in the summer he received a second message

from the Panther. The bearer of it brought also some heads

of game which he said were a gift from the sultan to the count.

The second message was brief as the first:

"The rumor runs that thou hast renounced the chase, and

Yamen about 40,000. And the Hawwarah of high Egypt 20,000 a division of

Turkomans from the Aleppo region, and Kurds 10,000.

Only a portion of the levies and the regular army were in the field as a rule.

The sultan s circus numbered perhaps two full divisions, but outnumbered the cru

sader garrisons ten to one. The wonder is not that the citadels fell so quickly, but

that they were defended at all. The Templars and Hospitalers, with a few Teu

tonic Knights, were the only military units now in the Holy Land; they were all in

garrison, and they could not have mustered between them 10,000 men.

Baibars could at need put nearly 100,000 men in the field. His successor, Kalawun,

in 1280, met a Mongol and Christian army of 80,000 with superior numbers.

After Baibars day, if not before, the military supremacy passed from the West

to the East, where the Mongols were now at home. It did not return to the West for

three centuries, and then largely by virtue of superior fire weapons.

4 2o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

darest not stir out of thy town. So we send thee these heads

of game to console thee/

Baibars, however, had not lingered near Tripoli. Swiftly

he marched south with his circus and captured Montfort,

the stronghold of the Teutonic Knights on the breast of the

hills within sight of Acre. After taking it, he decided to raze

it to the ground, and the stout walls were pulled down, the

stones scattered in the gorge.

Baibars captures, apparently haphazard, had been method

ical. First he had cleared the Palestine coast, as far as the

strong point of Chateau Pelerin; then he had swept over

north Syria, seizing Antioch and the rich cultivated lands

and the caravan roads to the coa k st. Then he had cleared the

crusaders from their last citadels in the line of the hills,

so that only narrow strips of coast at Acre and Tripoli re

mained to them, and they had, actually, their backs to the

sea. They could not ride inland for a half hour without com

ing among the Moslems. 1

still held Marghab, overlooking the sea, and Tortosa, Sidon, and Tyre,

with Chateau Pelerin the last three being actually built out into the sea. But

these were isolated, and Baibars left them to be dealt with later, when he had built

up his fleet. It happened that his ships of war were caught off Cyprus in a storm just

then, and destroyed.

Evidence of Baibars treatment of the captured strongholds remains to-day,

after seven centuries and a half. His plan was to destroy the coast ports, accessible

to the crusaders, and keep intact the hill citadels, to serve the Moslems. Of the

places he razed Ascalon, Caesarea, Arsuf, and Montfort hardly a trace of the

crusaders buildings remains. While the Krak, that he repaired, is almost intact and

his memorial tablet distinct to-day. Belfort also is half preserved.

The present writer, in his visit to Antioch, Aleppo, and Damascus, examined

the ruins of the majority of the crusaders* citadels. Their present condition is

explained in a note at the end of the book.

LVI

ASIA SENDS FORTH ITS HORDE

E man alone answered their appeals for aid. Edward,

prince of England, had taken the cross and, with a

few hundred adventurous knights and men-at-arms,

joined the crusade of St. Louis arriving at Tunis after the

death of the king, when the other lords were preparing to

sail home. This Edward would not do. Having taken the

cross, he meant to carry out his vow.

"By the blood of God," he swore, "I shall go to Acre if all

others leave me but Fowr my valet"

With his princess, Eleanor, and his small following, he

landed in the port of Acre in time to hear of the loss of the

Krak. Unable to take the field against the sultan, he had to

content himself with short raids inland, which troubled

Baibars enough to turn his attention to the young English

crusader.

In Edward s case, Baibars chose to draw the dagger, not

the sword and that treacherously. Either he enlisted the

aid of the Assassins, or he hired murderers from Jaffa who

passed themselves off as Assassins. They penetrated the

421

422 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

English camp with the usual throngs of hangers-on and

assailed the prince in his tent. Taken by surprise, Edward

defended himself valiantly, seizing and wrestling with the

Moslems, until aid came to him. He was wounded in the

arm and side, and the weapons of the murderers seem to have

been poisoned.

His wounds became infected, and he lay prostrate in his

tent, cared for by his youthful wife and apparently doomed

to a slow death by blood poisoning. No surgeon of that time

could operate in such a case, but Eleanor never ceased her

ministrations. The chronicle relates that when her husband

slept she lay by his side and licked the rankling wounds with

her tongue, until they closed. They who beheld her doing so

expected her to be stricken, but she received no hurt.

At the end of a year, in which all his efforts could accom

plish nothing, the English prince sailed home reluctantly.

He had tried to establish contact with the Mongols beyond

the Euphrates, and in 1274, when he was again in England

and occupied with affairs there, a Mongol embassy visited

Europe and reached the papal court. A letter carried by the

embassy was forwarded to Edward. It was written by the

Mongol khan Abaka, from Persia, and offered alliance to

the English prince, for the conquest of the Holy Land.

Edward, still cherishing hope of giving aid to Jerusalem,

felt unable to leave his own kingdom. "The resolution you

have taken," he wrote Abaka in response, "to relieve the

Holy Land from the enemies of Christianity is most grateful

to us, and we thank you. But we cannot at present send you

any certain news about the time of our arrival in the Holy

Land"

It is a curious turn in the tide of events the princes of

Christendom no longer in sympathy with the crusades, in

volved in their own quarrels and achievements at home, while

a Mongol lord prepares to enter the Holy Land in the face

of the Moslem power.

Baibars heard the rumble of the Mongol juggernaut from

afar, and exerted himself to ward off catastrophe. He had

been occupied in combing the Assassins out of their citadels

ASIA SENDS FORTH ITS HORDE 423

north of the Krak, and one by one he mastered the summits

of the dark hills in which they had lived isolated for so long.

Massiaf, the stronghold of the order which was now becom

ing a domesticated people without political ambition Kad-

mous and Kahf, the great cavern atop a precipice yielded

to him. He swept north and brought the Armenian mountain

eers to heel again. He pressed on into Asia Minor, but had to

turn back to watch the Mongols in 1275.

For weeks, with his scouts quartering over the Eastern

plains, and his divisions under arms in strategic points, the

Panther crouched alert. He never went to his tent to sleep

without fast horses waiting, ready saddled, at the entrance.

He slept in his clothes, even to his spurs.

The test of strength, however, did not come in his lifetime.

He did trounce a division of Mongols, 12,000 strong, and he

held Armenia safe. But the Mongols, discovering that the

crusaders could do nothing to support them, confined them

selves to ravaging and breaking up the dominion of the

Seljuks in Asia Minor.

Baibars was well content not to interfere with them. And

after the loss of his fleet with which he had planned to invade

Cyprus, he left the survivors of the crusaders unmolested

while he withdrew to Cairo to watch the building of his new

mosques and a great university. In the gateways of these

new structures he placed the columns of devastated Christian

churches. For once he deserted the saddle and the path of

war, because he had been wounded in the last conflict with

the Mongols, and from this wound he did not recover.

In his last years he saw the Sudan added to the new Egyp

tian empire, with the sheriffs of Mecca and Medinah. He

had rebuilt Saladin s empire to its borders and beyond, by

the time of his death in 1277.

He had been a fabulous and stormy figure the nemesis of

the crusades treacherous and murderous. He had filled

the slave markets of the Khan el Khalil in Cairo with Chris

tians, and had instilled into his people the certainty that the

crusaders were doomed. Probably this would have happened

in any case, because the Mongol upheaval in mid-Asia had

driven into the Near East hordes of the barbaric clansmen

4 2 4 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

from the steppes and the great ranges. Kharesmians, Cir

cassians, Eastern Turks, and Tatars, they had come to stay,

and they formed the bulk of the new and invincible armies.

A small tribe, unnoticed as yet, had aided the broken Seljuks

against the Mongol conquerors. They were the Othmans, or

Ottomans, destined to gain supremacy in the plateaus of

Asia Minor within a generation, and to sweep thereafter

over eastern Europe. And, in time, to become lords of Con

stantinople.

It has been said so often and too often that the loss

of the crusaders kingdom was caused altogether by the

weakening of the crusading spirit in Europe that it is well to

reflect upon this inroad of the clansmen of mid-Asia.

Beginning after the first invasion of Genghis Khan in 1220,

and ending with the growth of the three empires, the mamluk

dominion in Egypt, the Mongol khanate in Persia, and the

Ottoman empire in Asia Minor at the end of the Thirteenth

Century, this inroad defeated all the efforts of the crusaders.

Remember that the Kharesmians, out of the Caspian steppes,

wrested Jerusalem away the last time the Kharesmians

and the mamluks annihilated the Christian knights and

descendants of Saladin at Gaza after this loss of Jerusalem.

And the citadels of the crusaders were lost to the mamluks,

who were bred out of the debris swept before the Mongols

the Hungarians, Slavs, Georgians and Tatars and Turks.

These clansmen out of mid-Asia and north of the Black

Sea fragments of people cast up by the maelstrom of the

Mongol invasion became in time devout Moslems, and they

were tempered by the old Arab culture of Saladin s time.

By numbers, by their very vitality and zeal for the new

faith, they overwhelmed the crusaders. St. Louis and Edward

both landed at Acre with forces that might have prevailed

against the Moslem armies of the early days of the crusades;

but they were helpless in the face of the armies led by Baibars

and the Mongol Il-khans of Persia.

The ascendancy of the Moslems in zeal, in numbers,

and in military efficiency turned the scales against the cru

saders in the East, who no longer had support from Europe.

Christendom was not aware as yet of the change, but it was

ASIA SENDS FORTH ITS HORDE

now on the defensive. No longer could it invade the lands of

Islam with any hope of success.

The only chance left the crusaders, at bay with their backs

to the sea, was an alliance with the Mongols, who had gained

prodigiously in culture during the last half century. The

court of the Mongol Il-khan of Persia equaled that of Cairo

and surpassed the papal court at Rome in its knowledge and

enterprise. Painters, architects, astrologers, and historians

gathered around the seat of the Mongols.

But this chance was passing beyond reach. Already the

kadis and imams of Islam were assembled around the Il-khan,

and the Mongol nobles were being converted to the faith of

Islam. Soon, in 1305, this conversion would be complete,

and the Mongol conquerors would be merged in the great

melting pot of the peoples of Islam.

Baibars himself had managed to keep the remnant of the

crusaders apart from the Mongols. He alone had withstood

the armies of the horde and he had punished any prince who

allied himself with the conquerors Bohemund, for instance,

and Edward of England, and Hay thon of Armenia.

While he kept the invading horde from his new empire,

he so organized his state and army that it was able to endure.

His successor, Kalawun, took over a strong military state.

Upon Kalawun, as the Barca had bequeathed the obliga

tion of the Roman war to Hannibal, Baibars had imposed

the duty of driving the crusaders from their last strongholds.

The jihad must be fought to the end.

LVII

THE LA ST STA ND

TEP by step Kalawun prepared for his triumph. He

even renewed truces with the crusaders while he made

ready. The ambitious Charles of Sicily, who now

called himself king of Jerusalem, was glad to make an al

liance with the mamluk sultan, and the Genoese aided Kala

wun in secret, while the Venetians held aloof from the Holy

Land.

So the sultan could be certain that no relief would be sent

out from Europe to the crusaders. Christendom would not

interfere with his jihad. But someone else interfered.

As Hulagu had done a generation before, the Mongol II-

khan Abaka sent his army in motion toward Jerusalem, and

the Christian Georgians joined the standard of the horde,

while the Armenians flocked down again, and the knights

rode from Marghab to swell the army of the khan. Thirty

thousand Christians marched with the Mongols, down the

valley of Hamah, in the autumn of 1281.

And on the wide plain by the small lake of Horns the

Egyptian host gave battle to the invaders. For the first

time the mamluks were face to face with the full army of the

Il-khan and his allies,

426

THE LAST STAND 427

No one knows exactly what followed except that the

battle was sudden and devastating, and that the mounted

divisions of the Mongols and the mamluks scattered over

the plain in charges that carried them leagues from the camps.

The right wing of the Mongols crushed everything before it,

while Kalawun with his halka held firm in the center.

At the end of the day, Kalawun and his guard still held the

field, while the Mongol cavalry had split into two parts,

groping for each other, and the Christians the Armenians

and Georgians being infantry in the main were left stranded

by themselves. A Templar who observed the battle wrote to

Edward, now king of England, that the Mongols rode off on

the Moslem horses, which they preferred to their own.

Beyond doubt they withdrew from the field the next day, and

the Armenian and Georgian division was nearly annihilated

in the long retreat on foot toward the mountains in the north.

As Baibars had done, Kalawun had beaten off the Mongol

attack, and in the following years he avenged himself on the

knights of Marghab and Tripoli for their alliance with the

invaders from the East.

With irresistible numbers he isolated and laid siege to

Marghab, forcing his way up the steep mountain until he

could pound with his engines at the massive black walls.

For thirty-eight days the engines beat at the basalt walls,

until the knights assembled in the great satte of their eyrie

one morning, to decide between surrender and resistance

until the citadel should lie in ruins and their lives be lost.

From the crumbling parapet of the great tower, the sentries

could look down upon the blue line of the sea, where floated

the triangular sails of Moslem dhows, and over white chalk

hills where tiny caravans moved through the dust. Marghab

was cut off, without hope of aid, and that morning the master

of the Hospitalers surrendered the castle, while more than

one man brushed the tears from his eyes.

The mamluks, entering the gate tower, looked about them

and cried that the angels of Allah must have fought for them

and bestowed upon them such a citadel.

Four years later Tripoli fell to their attack, and with the

428 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

death of Bohemund VII, the line of the Norman princes of

Antioch ceased, after a reign of close to two hundred years.

Except for the small seaports, only Acre remained.

Kalawun had ordered the timbers cut for the siege engines,

and the sledges of rocks started on the road down from the

hills toward this city of the Christians, when he fell ill. Al

ready his armed host had marched forth, and the desert folk

were riding up from the plain the White Slaves of the

River rode stirrup to stirrup under the black banners, when

the sultan s litter was laid on the ground and he died.

But he gave command that he should not be placed in his

tomb until the unbelievers had been driven from Acre. The

kadis said he had been a martyr, in the war for the faith,

and his son, El Malik el Khalil, took the reins of command,

ordering the march resumed.

As they crossed the Gaza sands, the desert folk came in to

the host, and the mullahs watching from Hebron could see

the glow of the fires. By day the dust of their marching over

spread the plain like a veil, when the dervishes ran beside

the chargers, and the Arab women sang their exultation in

the spoil to be taken. They sang as they marched, and the

camel trains coming down from the hills cried a greeting to

them.

For this was the day appointed, the day for the casting-

out of the unbelievers, and the final reckoning, wherein the

faithful would taste of martyrdom or of honor and riches.

So the readers chanted to them, while the camels snarled

by the thorn bush, and the chargers stamped restlessly in the

lines beyond the fires.

"Lo! The day of Severance is fixed: the day when there shall

be a blast on the trumpet, and ye shall come in crowds . . . when

heaven shall open its portals . . . for the faithful, a blissful

abode gardens and vineyards . . . and damsels with swelling

breasts, and a full cup!

"On this day the Spirit and the Angels shall range themselves

in order, speaking no word.

" The sure day I The day on which a man shall see the deeds

THE LAST STAND 429

which his hands have sent before him, and the unbelievers shall

say,

"*Q would that I were dustl "

As the debris of a storm, washed down from the hills,

gathers in a pile on the plain, the remnants of the crusaders

filled the walls of Acre, and thronged the gardens of the sub

urbs, in that month of March, 1291.

Most of them had journeyed thither from the hill castles,

bringing what goods they could carry with them; the richest

of them owned palaces in the suburbs, surrounded by iron

grille work and ornamented with windows of colored glass.

Here dwelt the members of the great family of the Ibelin,

and the Lusignans, emigres from Palestine, with the prince of

Galilee, and the lords of Outremer.

In the streets of Acre, between the massive walls of the

buildings, all of one height and of the same yellowish stone,

rode the Templars and Hospitalers who had been driven from

their castles. Under silk awnings Syrian merchants had their

stalls, driving a brisk trade in fine carpets and precious stones.

For the emigres had brought wealth with them, and the

Genoese and Venetian merchants, guarded by their men-at-

arms, haggled over bargains avidly. Galleons crowded the

port, coming and going from Cyprus.

Some of the barons were sending their families out to

Cyprus, but most of them kept to their houses in Acre, un

willing to believe that the city was in danger. Curiously, the

streets were gay, the taverns thronged. Feasting kept up

far into the night. Gorgeous prostitutes were seen entering

the portals of the palaces, attended by black slaves. Syrian

and Greek girls filled the upper rooms of the wine shops, and

laughed from the windows at the brown-habited monks.

Acre was wakeful, alive with a feverish excitement bred of

uncertainty. Pavilions stood under the poplar trees of the

square between the cathedral and the Hospital. Here could

be seen the coat-of-arms of a constable of France, there the

shield of Otto of Granson, who had just arrived from Europe.

Rumors could be heard in every corner and courtyard, and

43 o THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the galleys coming in from the home ports brought new

tidings.

Men said that the pope, Nicholas, had sent out a fleet,

while others insisted that no more than a handful of Italian

soldiery had been sent, who had already become breeders of

trouble ____ The good friar Ricoldo of Monte Croce had gone

out among the Moslems, and perhaps since he was a holy

man by his aid a miracle might be wrought. ... It was true

that the sultan Kalawun had died, and this might be the

miracle. . . . There were not ships enough to transport a

quarter of all these people to Cyprus, if the Moslem host

appeared and laid siege to the city.

In the salle of the Hospital, under the carved stone arches,

the commanders of the city discussed other tidings. The

patriarch, the masters of the orders were in charge while

they awaited the coming of Henry, king of Cyprus, with his

small following of ships. They knew the peril in which they

stood, and saw only one chance of succor.

A certain Genoese, Buscarel by name, had brought letters

from the Mongol Il-khan, Arghun, to the pope. The Il-khan

said that he was about to invade the Holy Land, and that one

of his sons was a Christian. But he demanded an army from

Europe to cooperate with him and no such army was pre

paring. A converted Mongol, Chagan, had brought a second

missive, still more pressing, from the Il-khan. The only

response Nicholas had made was to urge Arghun to be bap

tized. Meanwhile, no one knew what the Mongols were

doing. 1 And the Moslem host was on the march.

King Henry arrived from Cyprus, and the muster roll of

the crusader families was complete. For these few days they

were united, in all the splendor of their small courts, in all

the careless indolence that had fastened upon them, genera

tion by generation.

With their wives and courtesans they gambled and feasted

anything to drown suspense and gnawing fear in the

moon-lit roof terraces where the breath of the sea tempered

the lifeless air. The whine of fiddles, the cries of jesters, the

waiting two years, Arghun began his preparations for the move against

Egypt, but he died in March, 1291, at the same time Acre was besieged.

THE LAST STAND 43 i

modulated voices of minstrels kept them from thinking of the

future. They fingered the dice cup and the wine goblet, and

let the hours pass uncounted.

Restless and quarrelsome they were degenerate, if you

will yet they kept to their trysting place. Lords and knights,

fair ladies and somber monks, mild nuns and insolent cour

tesans, bearded patriarchs and heedless minstrels, they

gathered for the last time in feverish gayety, to await death.

And it came.

It came in mid-May, after weeks of siege, with the thud

ding of fourscore engines, the cracking of bowlders against

crumbling walls, the flash and roar of exploding naphtha,

and the ceaseless summons of the drums. The drums on camel

back, scores of them, that dinned and thundered through the

hours.

Through the gardens of the suburbs, over the smoking

ruins of the outlying palaces, surged the host of Islam. Mara

bout and hadji y mamluk and negro roared in exultation.

The pavilions stretched to the hills. Oil, poured in the black

ened ground and fired by eager hands, sent a smoke screen

rolling toward the broken battlements, where the moat had

been filled in by columns of beasts of burden, driven forward

laden with faggots and slaughtered at the ditch. Beyond the

ruined moat a breach of sixty yards opened in the wall, and

weary swordsmen, blinded by the smoke, waited for the as

sault to come, while flights of arrows swept over them.

The Templars who stood there had regained the breach

after one onset, but there was no one to relieve them, and

they waited, listening to the diapason of the drums and the

songs of the dervishes behind the smoke.

Through the night the men of Islam made ready, muster

ing in four waves, the first carrying heavy wooden shields,

the second caldrons of oil and torches, the third bows, the

fourth short, curved swords. And behind them, the regiments

of horsemen. Among them, in the half light before dawn,

passed the white-robed dervishes carrying long knives,

who would lead the way. Verily, sang the dervishes, Allah

had paved the way and had shrouded them with a mantle

43 2 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

for a heavy mist lay along the shore and upon the line of the

wall, and the very sea had risen against the unbelievers, so

that it barred the unbelievers from flight, tossing their ships

in its grip, and delivered them to the swords of the faithful.

The drums pounded their summons, and the cymbals

clanged the dervishes began to scream and run through the

mist. After them advanced the first wave of the attack.

A roar of triumph sounded from the wall, and the oil flared

up through the mist, showing the leaping figures of men, and

the dark masses that surged toward the flames. The clatter

of steel sounded faint against the monotone of the drums

and fainter still as the swordsmen were driven from the

breach.

When the sun broke through the mist, the Moslems were

within the breach. And then the tumult, that had died down,

sprang up anew. The master of the Hospitalers with his

knights had charged the Moslem waves and thrown back the

attack.

Then, with a measured tread, the armored regiments of

mamluks advanced, over the ruined moat, over the piles of

bodies and the broken engines, pressing back the wounded

knights, forcing their way into the streets, surging around the

bands of Christians who tried to beat them off. And behind

the mamluks, the sultan s cavalry rode into Acre.

The drums ceased.

Acre had fallen, but for hours and days the crusaders

fought. . . . The master of the Hospital, begging his men to

set him down as he was carried off, wounded . . . The patri

arch, led on board one of the galleys that soon filled with

fugitives, until the heavy swell swamped the over-weighted

boat, and all within it went down . . . The Dominicans gath

ered together, singing Salve Regina as they were cut down . . .

The Templars, holding out in their house upon the sea, until

the last boats had got to sea or had been captured, and then

surrendering . . . The knights, disarmed, staring at the exul

tant mamluks and negroes who swarmed into the great for

tress, tearing the garments from young girls and laughing as

they befouled the altars until the knights, with their bare

hands, turned on the despoilers and slew them, throwing

THE LAST STAND 433

their bodies out of the embrasures, and closing the doors

against the Moslems without. And with their hands they

defended their house, until fire and steel overcame them, and

the last man ceased to breathe. . . .

It was the end.

By courier and pigeon post the tidings spread through the

land of Islam. Thirty thousand infidels had fallen to the sword

in a single day at Acre. The bodies of the Templars had

burned in the black towers. Elsewhere, in the little seaports,

the unbelievers were fleeing the mighty Acre had fallen,

and they were helpless and afraid.

Deserted were the halls of Chateau Pelerin the swords

men of Islam walked unhindered through its gates. The last

ships were leaving Tortosa where the cathedral stood empty

as a house that has lost its master, and the hymns of the

Nazarenes were heard no more.

The last ships had gone out to sea, and their sails had

vanished under the sky. So said the messengers of Islam, and

the camelmen upon the Baghdad road. And the kadis cried

to the multitudes that the jihad had triumphed.

Along the coast of the Holy Land, the bodies of the cru

saders lay drying in the sun-heated ditches, or in heaps of

charred bones. The only living crusaders were the captives,

sitting in rags on the rowing benches of the galleys, or limping

under burdens in the alleys of Cairo. Down in the lifeless air

of the Dead Sea, their bare feet stumble over the stones and

burning sand. If they raised their eyes, they beheld far above

them, remote under the blazing sky, the ramparts of Jeru

salem where once they had ruled as lords.

AFTERWORD

37 WAS the end of the crusades. The refugees gathered in

Cyprus were too weak to think of approaching the coast

again, and no further crusade came out of Europe to

seek Jerusalem.

Ironically, it was then that the Mongol host rode to the

Holy Land for the third time, under the Il-khan Ghazan.

An army of ninety thousand crossed the Euphrates in 1299,

and this time it was victorious.

Ghazan drove the mamluks in flight to the south, and was

in Damascus in the first days of the year 1300. The Mongols

waited out the winter in their camps from Gaza to Aleppo,

but saw no sign of the Christian knights. Aware of their ap

proach, the king of Cyprus raided the Egyptian coast with

his fleet, and a few ships of the Templars tried to make a

landing near Tortosa, without success.

Weary at last of holding his ground with heavy losses

against the warlike Moslems, and without aid from the

Christians, Ghazan who had received no response to his let

ters addressed to the pope withdrew from Syria in February,

1301, and with him vanished the last hope of the crusaders.

Ghazan died in 1304. He had been the ablest, if not the

437

43 8 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

most enlightened, prince of his generation, and, while he

inclined to the faith of Islam, he had followed the old Mongol

policy of religious tolerance in all his lands. He had sought to

establish the crusaders again in the Holy Land as a barrier

against the mamluks.

His successor became a true Moslem, and, curiously, with

this conversion the great power of the ^ Mongol empire in

Persia began to decline, as the dominion of the mighty

Kubilai tended to break up after the latter s conversion to

Buddhism in the Far East.

Before then, Marco Polo had wandered back from Cathay

and found no one to believe his tale of the court of the great

khan. He was taken captive in a sea battle between the

Venetians and Genoese, and had to content himself with

dictating the book of his travels to a scribe to while away the

hours in his prison.

With the breakdown of the vast machinery of the Mongol

empire, and the conversion to Islam of the Western Mongols

and Tatars, while the mamluk empire in Egypt grew in

power, the gateways of the East were closed to Europeans,

as they had been before the crusades. Only the neutral Vene

tian and Genoese merchants and isolated missionaries could

penetrate beyond Constantinople and Cyprus.

Meanwhile, in Europe itself, a very fever of activity began

with the pen instead of the sword. Geographers pieced out

the world that lay to the east, while schools were formed

to teach the oriental languages. Historians gathered together

all the chronicles of the crusades, and waged heated discus

sions as to why the great enterprise had failed.

Some of them at the courts of the kings blamed the

Church of Rome for its exploitation of the crusades, and

accused it of keeping in its treasure chests the wealth that

had been poured into its alms boxes during the last century.

Others historians of the Church blamed the ambitions

and rivalries of the European princes.

Most of them shook their heads over the avarice and

treachery of the Italian maritime republics, and added that

the quarrels of the crusaders themselves had resulted in the

loss of the Christian colonies.

LETTER OF GHAZAN KHAN

Conclusion of the Il-khan s letter in Mongolian--the Uighur

script to the court of Rome in 1302. The last known com

munication from the Mongols, seeking alliance with Europe,

before their conversion to Islam. Such an alliance would have

restored Outremer to the crusaders. But no heed was paid

by the papal court or monarchs of Europe to the Mongols

advances The original was identified recently by Monszg-

nor Tisserant among the Oriental manuscripts of the Vatican.

COURTESY OF THE APOSTOLIC LIBRARY, VATICAN CITY

439

440 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Much was written and little done in this generation be

tween the loss of Acre in 1291 and the affair of the Templars

in 1310. Both Edward II of England and Philip the Fair of

France took the pledge of the crusade, and raised money for

a new enterprise; but they found more pressing matters at

home to be paid for with the money.

And the theoreticians and amateur strategists poured out

plans for redeeming the great defeat. The old project of

Constantinople was revived in print. A landing on the

African coast and a march to Cairo was urged, again. Above

all, a complete reorganization of the leadership at home was

advocated control of the preparations to be taken out of

the hands of the prelates of the Church, and given to a kind

of league that would be above tampering with. The Temple

and the Hospital should be united in one order, and rivalry

between them eliminated. A fleet should be built to serve

the crusade, and the coasts of Islam blockaded.

So said the theoreticians, who did not know that the spirit

of the crusade had passed from the men at home. In this new

age of realism and commercial beginnings, the crusader had

no place.

Nor could any crusade now win Jerusalem from the rising

powers of Islam.

From the Golden Horde on the Volga, down through the

Ottomans in Asia Minor, through the Il-khans on the Euphra

tes, and the mamluks in Cairo, a ring of weapons had been

drawn about the Holy Land. And Europe s task thenceforth

would be to defend itself, and to fight for its very life against

the throngs of Islam. 1 Some of its expeditions would be

x ln the next two centuries we find the crusades changed in aspect. Adventurous

soldiers like Peter of Cyprus and Boucicaut lead forays against the oncoming Mos

lems. The "crusades" of Nicopolis and of Varna were attempts to turn back the

Moslem tide led by the Ottomans, who captured Constantinople in 1453. The

Europeans, placed on the defensive, are locked in the long conflict by land and sea

with the Turks, allied to the Tatars, Mamluks, and Corsairs the conflict that only

ends at the gates of Vienne, and the Gulf of Lepanto.

The expeditions of this great war are still termed crusades at times, but they are

actually purely military movements, to gain possession of seaports, fortresses, and

territory in Europe. The Hospitalers still serve -in them, but only as the political

organization of the Knights of Malta.

AFTERWORD 441

called crusades, but they would be only military movement

against the new forces of Islam.

The true crusades ended at Acre in 1291, when Jerusalem

was lost beyond doubt. Perhaps foreknowledge of this in

spired the doctrinaires in their plaint that something should

be done to redeem the disaster.

In this time of wordy argument and useless conjecture,

men turned their attention to the twin surviving units of

the crusades the Temple and the Hospital.

Both had been driven out of the Holy Land, and had lost

their strongholds beyond Cyprus. The Hospital the Red

Cross of the crusades kept on caring for the sick and aiding

travelers, while it prepared a new frontier post in the Island

of Rhodes. (Thereafter, its knights were known as the

Knights of Rhodes, until they retreated to Malta, when they

became the well-known Knights of Malta.)

Not so did the Templars. They had been the Transport

Corps of the crusades, with the duty of caring for pilgrims,

forwarding military units, arranging financing and shipping.

They had acted as guides, liaison officers, and shock troops

their banner Beauseant had always had its place in the van

of the Christian armies. They had gone into action knowing

that they could not retreat and that if they were taken cap

tive the Moslems would show them no mercy. More than

twenty thousand knights of the order had been killed in

action.

Now the Holy Land, their raison d fare, was lost. The

great organization was thrown back into Europe. It had its

frontier post in Cyprus, of course, and in Spain its command-

cries found occupation against the Moors. And it kept its

fleet in readiness.

Meanwhile it had grown vast indeed. European nobles,

often with sons in its ranks, had made a practice of willing

their property to the Temple. Matthew of Paris says that it

now held nine thousand houses in Christendom. Having

served not only as landowners but as bankers for the later

crusades, the Templars now administered huge amounts of

442 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

money, in trust. In Paris, they housed the royal treasury

of France, and kept its accounts. They guarded the treasury

of the harassed papal court, now in exile in Avignon.

Because the Temple owed allegiance to no lord, and be

cause its members were pledged to take no profit for them

selves, the order was entrusted with such treasures. Its forti

fied commanderies, guarded by the soldier-monks, were

proof against thieves or robber barons. Even the pope could

no longer influence its councils. In France it had a veritable

chain of strongholds, with lands and mortgages upon lands

uncounted. It was a state within a state. And once the king,

Philip the Fair, had run from an unruly mob in Paris to

sanctuary within its doors.

Good people shook their heads at sight of this growing

wealth, especially in hard times when the burly soldiers of

the Temple went about well fed and clad in linens and furs.

As defenders of the Holy Land, the Templars had been brave

and notable figures, but they were not favorites now, when

they rode afield to gather interest from a mortgaged hamlet,

or to claim farms bequeathed to them.

"They devoted their efforts/ said Matthew of Paris,

"instead of aiding the Sepulcher, to administering their

properties and even ruled whole districts, like kings."

Others blamed the Templars for the defeats in the East,

and whispered that they had been in league with the Sara

cens. Because the Templars held their meetings secretly in

the hours before dawn, men said idly that they must have

something to conceal no doubt some evil and unholy

ritual. But no one was prepared for what came to pass.

Europe crucified the Templars. Or rather, it made them

the scapegoats of the crusades, and burned alive the best of

them.

THE TRIAL OF THE TEMPLARS

, ON THE thirteenth of October, 1307, the royal officers in the

governments of France opened sealed orders from the hand

of the king, Philip the Fair, and found that they were to ar-

AFTERWORD 443

rest all Templars wherever found, and hold them to be ques

tioned. In the Paris house was seized Jacques de Molay,

grand master of the order, who had come up from Cyprus at

the bidding of the pope the year before.

Philip and his advisers had prepared this step with some

care. The wealth of the Temple, the imperium in imperio it

enjoyed within his own kingdom of France, and its growing

political influence placed a rein upon his ambition. As to

Philip, men said that he had the face of an angel, the eyes of

a falcon, the body of a giant, and the heart of a devil. Add

that he had the agile brain of a scholar, well versed in the

law of his day, and you have a man who is to be dreaded.

He had talked it over with the pope, Clement V, a weak

soul, an invalid, and now a refugee from Rome, at Avignon.

The Temple had outgrown its bounds it must be brought to

hand, separated from its possessions, placed under authority.

Had not its master, De Molay, refused to join the order to the

Hospital, and accept as its new master a son of the king

of France? Indeed, De Molay had refused. Clement, meditat

ing upon the great possessions of the Temple, agreed to an

investigation of the order. The king suggested that it would

be better if he should make the first move, and the pope

agreed.

Philip, working with Nogaret, the royal chancellor, and

with William of Paris, the inquisitor of France, had planned

more than he chose to confide to Clement. The royal officers

had brought to him informers members of the order who

had been punished and cast out for various offenses. From

them, the king had gleaned the testimony he needed. He

would charge the order with the sin of heresy.

Clement, who was making his own plans, did not know of

the sealed orders that required the royal officers to interrogate

the Templars immediately after their arrest at need^under

torture. And Philip s instructions to his officers contained a

full statement of the crimes with which the Templars were

to be charged:

". . . For long, upon the statement of persons worthy of

trust, made to us, it has been revealed that the brothers of

the order of the soldiers of the Temple, hiding the wolf under

444 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the semblance of a lamb, and casting despite upon the religion

of our faith, are crucifying anew in these days our Lord

Jesus-Christ, and are heaping upon Him injuries worse than

those He endured upon the cross. When, at their initiation

into the order, they are presented with His image what

must I say? They deny Him, thrice, and thrice spit upon His

face. Following this, stripped of their garments, and bare,

they are kissed by him who initiates them, first in the back

below the spine, then upon the navel, then upon the lips

to the shame of human dignity. . . . And afterwards they are

obliged by the vow they have taken and without dread of

offending human law, to yield themselves, one to the other

whenever required, in frightful lust. . . .

"These are, with other things, the deeds of that false fel

lowship a brotherhood that is mad and given to idol wor

ship . . ."

The arrest of all the Templars in France upon the same

day caused a clamor of amazement. The tidings traveled by

horseback from village to village, but before public opinion

could take definite shape, the royal officers were putting the

captives to the question even before the officers of the in

quisition appeared upon the scene. And the questions were

those indicated by the king s instructions.

"Did you, at your initiation, deny Christ? Have you

knowledge that others did so? All of them? Or the greater

part? Or a few? . . * Did you spit upon the cross? Did you see

others do so ? All of them ? Or the greater part ? Or a few. . . ? "

Monotonously, the long list of questions was read over to

each prisoner, separated from his companions. And then

again, when the prisoner was bound upon a wooden frame,

with ropes stretching, a little at a time, his wrists and ankles

away from his limbs. When the bones were pulled slowly

from their sockets, the questions were read again and again.

Or perhaps the man under question was seated in a

chair, bound fast to the back and arms, while an iron circlet

was drawn tight upon his temples and twisted into the skin,

against the bone, and the questions were read to him again.

Thirty-six Templars died under this torture.

If a man confessed to the charges, he was not put to the

AFTERWORD 445

torture. Some, who had listened to the screams from the

torture chamber, swore to the full confession without further

prompting. It was not necessary to take every man in hand,

because the confessions already sworn to before the examiners

involved all the commanderies in France. Three unnamed

Templars denied all the charges, and continued to deny them

under torture. Faced with the alternative of torture, few

were able to go through the ordeal without swearing that part

if not all the charges were true.

So, by the swift action of the royal examiners, the king was

supplied with the blackest testimony against the order, by

the Templars themselves. De Molay s confession was damag

ing, and it was said that he wrote to the other officers of the

order, advising them to swear to the charges.

Public opinion, at first astounded, and then curious, now

had the darkest scandal of Christendom to dwell upon.

The soldier-monks had indeed practised evil rites in their

secret meetings the very guardians of the Sepulcher were

servants of Mahound! Little wonder that they had waxed

rich and proud when the arts of the Evil One had aided them !

Still, opinion in general could not make certain of the

matter. The Templars had many friends, who were angered

as well as dismayed. And the Templars in other countries

denied the charges to a man. Could it be that these black

rites had been confined to France?

Philip wrote to the sovereigns of neighboring countries,

demanding that they arrest and question the Templars.

Clement, at first, had protested now he issued, in Novem

ber, a bull ordering other princes to arrest the Templars and

hold their goods in his name. He sent his cardinals to Paris,

to oppose the seizure of the property of the Templars in France

by the king. De Molay and Hugh of Pairaud, visitor of the

order, revoked their confessions. Informed of this, the pope

exerted his authority for the first time. It was more than

time, because the French king was swiftly overturning one

of the very foundation stones of papal authority.

The Temple was a religious order, and the king s officers

had exceeded their authority in putting its members to the

question. Philip, meanwhile, had appealed to the University

446 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

of Paris on this point, and the masters of theology ruled

against him. No secular authority had power to try the

Templars, a religious order, on a charge of heresy. Only

the pope had authority to judge the affair.

Reluctantly, the king and his advisers had to admit the

papal representatives to the accounting of the property of

the Templars. For a few months the whole thing hung in the

balance. In that time the persecutors of the Templars showed

their ingenuity.

A campaign of propaganda was begun, cleverly enough.

The text of the confessions somehow came to be circulated

among nobles and common people. "Disinterested" publi

cists appeared at the papal court, to speak indignantly against

the order. And it was whispered among the people that if

the Templars were found to be heretics, no one in their debt

need repay any money owed them. The Dominicans, leaders

of the inquisition, had long been jealous of the soldier-

monks, and now used their influence against the captives.

Men remembered that they had heard others say that drunk

ards "drank like Templars." And the houses of prostitutes

in Germany were they not called "Temple-houses"?

Details of the inventories of property found in the com-

manderies were given out to the curious public so many

silver candlesticks and an amber casket found in the chamber

of such an officer a saddle ornamented with silver so many

loads of grain owing to the chapel at Sainte Michele, and

not yet paid. . . .

One William of Plaisians, the mouthpiece of Nogaret,

addressed a series of arguments to the papal court, claiming

that the case against the order was already clear, and that

it was the duty of the papal consistory to punish the guilty

members. Plaisians arguments found their way into the

hands of the public. It is interesting to look at portions of

his summing-up.

"This victory is clearly established and indubitable:

"Because they have avowed in so many confessions the

notorious truth

"Because of the public outcry they have raised against

themselves

AFTERWORD 447

"And the incontestable testimony of a great and catholic

prince 1

"And the verdict of so many catholic pontiffs

"And the outcry of so many barons, and common people.

"Because, since time immemorial, people have reported

that in their secret initiation they were guilty of hidden evil,

and for that reason they were, truthfully, suspected by all

openly and notoriously.

"Because they have always held their chapters and meet

ings at night, which is the custom of heretics since those

who do evil hate the light.

"Because by the fruit of their deeds we can know them

it is said that the Holy Land was lost by their lapse.

" Because in many parts of the world they have fortified

their castles against the Church.

"From all this we must of necessity conclude that the

aforesaid deeds are notorious, clear and indubitable. . . .

And so the cause of our faith ought to be safeguarded by the

pontiff of Rome, who safeguards all laws, and is himself not

bound by any bond."

To bring pressure upon the pope, the persecutors of the

order held what might be called a public demonstration

against the Templars at Tours. Philip sent to the pope

seventy-two of the most damaging confessions. In these

years of 1308-1309, the confessions had been secured, but

the Templars had not been tried because the king and his

advisers unable to try the case themselves had so fright

ened the papal council which should have tried the Tem-

Wilip the Fair. Plaisians to the contrary, there was no general public feeling

against the Templars before Philip s action in arresting them. Plaisians argument

is that their confessions bear out the previous suspicion of the order, and that

these confessions render it obligatory for the pope to condemn them.

Yet his discours reveals that the confessions were gleaned by torture: "... After

the general and uniform confessions of all, others have spontaneously confessed to

enormities."

And again: ". , . It is not needful to disquiet oneself to know how, or before whom,

the truth was discovered, provided it be discovered, and less than any other should

the pontiff of Rome disquiet himselfhe who is bound by no bond."

The situation becomes clear enough when Plaisians, to force the pope to further

action, hints that otherwise the sins of the papal court at Avignon might be made

public, in the same manner as the crimes of the order of the Temple.

448 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

plars on the charge of heresy that the pope shrank from

taking the responsibility on himself.

Philip meanwhile carried on secret negotiations with

Avignon, and hit upon a compromise. Clement was to name

ecclesiastical commissions to hold inquests upon the testi

mony. The findings of the commissions were to be presented

to a papal council, to be held in Vienne, and at this council

the fate of the Templars would be decided. In the interval

the property of the order would be administered by royal and

papal officers, equally. And the Templars were kept in their

cells. Only a dozen members of the order had managed to

escape arrest.

So, the captives saw a ray of hope. At last they were to

have a public hearing! Nine members of the order drew up

a defense, which was read before a commission:

"In your presence, reverend Fathers, and commissioners

appointed by the sovereign lord pontiff, the undersigned

brothers of the order say in response . . .

"They protest that whatever the brothers of the Temple

have said to the discredit of the order while they were in

prison, constrained by requests and fear, is not to the prej

udice of the order and this they will prove when they are

at liberty. . . .

"Under terror and fear, lies will be uttered and the truth

withheld. The greater part of the brethren are so afflicted

by terror, that it should not astonish you that they lie, but

rather it should amaze you that any are found to uphold the

truth, when one knows the sufferings and the agonies that

they endure, and the menaces they undergo daily while the

liars enjoy comfort and liberty, and great promises are made

to them daily. It is amazing that more belief is given to the

liars who give testimony in the interest of their own bodies

than to those who have died under torture to uphold the

truth, and to the great majority who undergo the daily

ordeals in prison to uphold the truth. . . .

"They say that no one has found any brother of the Temple

outside of France who assents to these calumnies. That is be

cause only in France have the calumnies been rewarded. . . .

"Whoever enters into the order pledges four things to

AFTERWORD 449

obey, to remain chaste, to remain poor, and to devote all his

force to the conquest of the Holy Land of Jerusalem. He is

given the honest kiss of peace, and stripped of his old gar

ments and clad in the habit and given the cross which he

carries hanging on his breast thereafter . . And whoever says

otherwise, lies.

"That is why the detractors and corrupters . . . have sought

out apostates or brothers driven out of the order as sick

beasts are driven out of the herd, to concert with them these

calumnies and lies which are now falsely fastened upon the

brothers and the order.

"The brothers were forced to confess to these crimes be

cause the lord king, deceived by these detractors, informed

the lord pope of all that had passed, and thus the lord king

and the lord pope were tricked by false advice, . . .

"The brothers who have confessed such things would

willingly revoke their confessions if they dared. So they

beg that they be given a hearing, and enough security to

permit them to speak the truth without fear,"

The response to such defenses of the order was definite

and unmistakable. In the province of Sens, the archbishop

Philip of Marigny, a man attached to the royal interests,

condemned fifty-four Templars who had revoked their con

fessions as relapsed heretics. They were carted out at once

and burned alive.

With the pope subservient to them, the royal persecutors had

only one obstacle to face before the decision at Vienne and

that was the results of the arrest of the Templars elsewhere

than in France. These results had not been to their liking.

In Italy the affair had gone well enough. Under instruc

tions from the papal court, the mass of lay brothers had been

put to the question and adjudged guilty. Many had been

burned, and all property confiscated.

In England at first little attention had been paid to the

requests of Philip and Clement for a trial of the order. Then

a papal bull Pastoralis Solis obliged Edward to arrest the

members of the order, and later Clement advised that their

testimony be taken under torture. A case was made out

450 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

against them, and their castles seized in part, but there was

no general condemnation.

In Spain, the princes were friendly to the order, and saw

no advantage in allowing its property to be yielded up to the

papal officers beyond their borders. Besides, the Templars

there had taken up arms and made ready to defend their

castles rather than undergo trial The Spanish princes de

clared the Templars innocent.

Portugal was hostile to the persecutors of the Templars.

After interrogation without torture, the order was found

guiltless.

In Cyprus a curious thing happened. The Templars were

tried twice. The first time, under the king Amalric of Tyre,

their friend, they were found guiltless. Then Amalric died

and was succeeded by Henry of Lusignan, an enemy of the

order. Henry was instigated by the pope to try the Templars

again, and this time they were convicted of heresy and

treason their property forfeited and many of them burned.

In Germany, no trial was held. The lay princes rallied to

the support of the Templars, forcing the papal legates to

withdraw and freeing the captives. When a council assembled

to judge them, armed Templars forced their way into the

council hall bearing an indignant statement of their inno

cence. Thereupon the council rendered them public homage.

All this proved to be awkward for the papal Curia. The

order, held to be guilty in France, and found guilty in Italy,

and censorable in England, was at the same time innocent

in^Spain, and blameless in Portugal, not guilty and then

guilty in Cyprus, and publicly praised in Germany.

^Even to the agile minds of the papal jurisconsults, the

trial of the Templars was becoming a complex problem.

By now the pope, under pressure from Philip, had shown him

self urgent for the condemnation of the Temple. And this

circumstance might prove awkward in the extreme, since

the pope was the only individual in all Christendom entitled

to judge the order. So it became needful, in the interest of

the papacy itself, to condemn the order at the approaching

Council of Vienne. Better for Clement if he had never called

the Council of Vienne.

AFTERWORD 45 1

But there was another side to the problem: both the pope

and the king had laid their hands on the immense properties

of the Temple, wherever possible. And the main object in

the thoughts of the Curia and the royal court was the pos

session of the wealth of the Temple. They would not relin

quish that.

Such was the situation, when in the autumn of 1311 every

body took the road to Vienne.

Clement traveled thither, with the papal counselors.

Philip moved up to Lyons, and sent to the scene his group of

emissaries, among them Nogaret, Marigny, Plaisians. These

agents held daily conferences with the popes and the cardi

nals at Vienne. And, in spite of the burnings, some two thou

sand Templars appeared to defend the order.

Public opinion divided into two camps one party urging

the condemnation of the Templars and the cancellation of

all debts owing to the order the other championing the

order and demanding a hearing before the pope himself.

This was refused. Clement would not hear representatives of

the Temple. Seven of them, who persisted in seeking a hear

ing, were imprisoned.

But the party friendly to the Templars now held the ascend

ancy in numbers, and demanded whether the prisoners were

to be granted defenders in their hearing before the council.

Clement referred this important question to the council for

decision. And the answer was that the order must be granted

advocates in its trial.

This decision made matters worse for the persecutors^ If

defenders appeared in public with the privilege of offering

evidence in favor of the prisoners, the prosecution would be

deprived of its one prop the confessions.

For weeks the king s agents traveled back and forth be

tween Philip at Lyons and Clement at Vienne. Nothing but

the suppression of the order and the confiscation of its goods

would satisfy Philip. If Clement refused, Philip threatened

to charge the papacy with heresy. A solution must be found

by the papacy, and a solution was found.

Philip went himself to Vienne and talked with the pope.

452 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Two days later Clement announced his decision before the

grand commission of the council and the cardinals. He de

clared that the order of the Temple was suppressed. It was

abolished, Clement announced, "not by a definite sentence,

since it cannot be condemned under the law, but by means

of an apostolic act/

So the trial of the Temple was never held. The pope dis

solved it by his own act.

The reasons for this act, given out to the public, were: that

the order had been criticized, that it had become impotent

to aid the Holy Land, and that there was urgent need of a

decision in the case so that the property of the Temple might

not suffer more by neglect.

This property itself was awarded after payment of ex

penses to the king of France and to others to the Hospital.

But after twenty years of litigation and fighting the Hospital

ers managed to possess themselves of only a portion of this

great bequest. Most of it remained in the hands of those who

had seized it in the first place.

Public opinion showed itself hostile to the pope s act, and

Clement tried to justify himself in the bull Vox in Excels is

of the following spring. By this bull he returned the individual

Templars to the jurisdiction of their local tribunals.

By so doing Clement, after refusing the Templars trial

before his council, handed them back to the mercy of the

judges who had first extorted confessions from them. They

were punished in different ways, and so the impression left

upon the world at large was that the Templars, at least in

France, had been guilty as charged, and this impression

endured until modern times. Only the high officers of the

order imprisoned at Paris, Clement reserved for sentence by

three cardinals. The cardinals sentenced them to lifelong

imprisonment.

On the parvis of Notre Dame, before an assembled multi

tude, the sentence was read to the four officers. Two of them

heard it in silence, but Charnay and De Molay stepped

forward and protested, retracting their confessions in full,

and saying that they knew their only guilt had been in help

ing thus to injure an order that had been blameless.

AFTERWORD 453

The twain were taken under guard and hustled off to the

provost of Paris. Before anyone could intervene, Philip sent

an order to the provost. De Molay and Charnay were led

out at night to the island of the river. There, between the

garden of the king and the monastery of the Augustinians,

they were burned alive at the stake.

The Templars as an order had been innocent of the

charges made against them. 1 They had been disgraced, beg

gared, and imprisoned by unmistakable conspiracy. Hun

dreds of them had been tortured and scores of them burned to

death to satisfy the avarice of a prince of Christendom and

the policy of a Father of the Church and the jealousy of the

priests and the greed of the people at large. Unheeded at the

time, a wanderer upon the highroads, an exile from the city

of Florence, heard of their trial and wrote down a few lines

in a curious kind of book that placed the great figures of

history in an inferno, or a purgatory, or a paradise at the

author s whim:

I saw the new Pilate , so cruel,

That) unsatiatedy and unrighteous,

He carries into the Tern fie his miser s bags . . .

*For centuries the question of the guilt or innocence of the Templars has been

debated bitterly in Europe. Great interests hinged upon the question, which touched

the doctrine of papal infallibility, of the royal rights, of transmontanism, of the

Inquisition. Until modern times defenders of the order have had to tread gingerly.

For long the general opinion was that the order was guilty even in Scott s Ivanhoe

this belief is reflected. Now the consensus of opinion among scholars is that the

Templars were made the scapegoats of others sins, and were punished far beyond

their deserts.

The present writer, who held no brief for or against the order when he first studied

the evidence in the trial, believes without equivocation that the order of the Temple

was innocent, and its persecutors guilty. He was led to this belief by such circum

stances as the following:

I. The only evidence offered against the order was given by informers expelled

from the order for misconduct, a. These informers did not volunteer their evidence,

but were sought out by the king and the prosecutors as early as 1305. 3. The worst

batch of confessions in France are so similar that they must have been prepared in

advance apparently copied from the king s orders of arrest for the men under

torture to swear to. 4. No secret and blasphemous Rule of the Temple has been un

earthed, although interested scholars have searched for it diligently. 5. In the docu

ments of the prosecution there is internal evidence of a case made out in advance,

of haste, of pressure against the pope, and of downright conspiracy at every step.

454 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

So Dante, who was, in his way, a judge of character, sum

marized the action of the French king and the whole pro

ceeding against the Templars.

And it bore fruit, this trial of the order. With the passing

of the Templars, the ideal of the soldier-crusader vanished,

and the eastern frontier was left open to the Turks. While at

home the trial bestowed new power upon the inquisition and

sanctioned the wringing of evidence from men by torture.

While it left the common people seeking in all corners for

traces of witchcraft and dealings with Satan a search that

continued, horribly, for centuries.

It is curious that Europe should have burned at the stake

the last commanders of the crusaders.

THE RESULTS OF THE CRUSADES

So VAST was the crusading movement and so long did it

endure, that no man to-day may enumerate with certainty

its effects. We have no scales in which to weigh the gain or

loss of it. Nor have we words to describe the effect upon

civilization, when whole peoples were torn loose from their

isolation and set in motion, to behold new lands, to hear

strange languages, and to return with new ideas.

But we do know some of the results. For one thing, the

crusades brought back certain gleanings out of Asia; and they

caused certain changes in society in Europe, and in the end

they resulted in certain contributions to that society.

What the Crusades Brought Sack

There were other points of contact between Europe and

Asia than the conquests of the cross-bearers. Spain, chiefly,

and Sicily and Byzantium. So many of the gleanings from

the East entered through other channels; but during the two

centuries from 1095 to 1291 the crusades established the

great boulevard of communication between East and West.

In that time the years of conflict were few, the years of truce

AFTERWORD 455

many, and trade and intercourse practically never ceased.

During the crusades Europeans became familiar with the

finer cloths of the East cotton and muslin as well as damask.

They began to use cotton paper, and a few rare porcelains

from China. They learned something of the manufacture of

colored glass and mirrors.

Rhubarb and spices, rice, sugar, artichokes, and lemons

came out of the East, during the crusades, with other fruits

and foods.

Arabic words still surviving in our language give proof of

the new objects and ideas brought out of Asia. These words

meet us everywhere from admiral, alcohol, alfalfa, alkali,

algebra, and azimuth, through the alphabet to tariff and

zenith.

The first crusaders brought back the windmill with them,

and later they adopted much of oriental heraldry.

Christian scholars in Spain and Sicily as well as in the

colonies of the crusaders learned much from the Arab scien

tists. Especially in mathematics where Arabic numerals

and algebra simplified all calculation in medicine where

the orientals taught the study of disease as a natural phe

nomenon, to be treated by diet and hygiene and in astrol

ogy. Ptolemy s Almagest was eagerly read. Gradually the

Christians became acquainted with the Arab point of view

that knowledge comes from experiment and observation,

and not from a study of religion alone. In time the Christians

would have come to that conclusion of their own accord;

but the example of the orientals quickened their understand

ing. They discovered that a physician or a mathematician

need not be a priest.

The Arabs had long been disciples of Aristotle, and Euro

pean philosophers re-learned from them much of Aristotle

that had been lost in the Dark Ages.

Navigation became simplified by acquaintance with the

mariner s compass used by the Arabs a magnetized needle

bound to a straw or splinter of wood, floating in water.

This invention was crude enough at that time, and little

used for generations. But by the astrolabe of the Arabs,

456 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Christian mariners learned to calculate latitude after a

fashion. 1

The explorations of the crusaders and the study of Arabian

geography helped Europeans make useful maps for the first

time. The works of Ptolemy and Idrisi became known to

them. Returning pilgrims brought back more or less accurate

descriptions of all the nearer East, with fantastic tales of

what lay beyond. Sindbad was not the only merchant

seaman to write down his itinerary. Christians who had

thought Rome to be the center of the habitable world now

placed Jerusalem in the center of their maps and became

aware of distant seas, still unexplored.

In architecture, also, the crusaders had a hand. Their small

cathedrals and chapels were designed after those at home

in the style of northern France. But they learned by their

own experience, and by studying the Byzantine citadels,

how to build large and habitable castles. From them Euro^

peans learned the advantages of the double system of walls,

one commanding the other of barbicans or outworks, and

flanking towers, and master towers.

So skilled were the artisans of Outremer that Frederick II

brought back with him masons, painters, and mosaic workers

to ornament his buildings at Palermo- At that time Palermo

and Toledo and Constantinople all three on the frontiers

of the crusaders were the centers of culture in Christendom.

For two centuries the crusades were the talk of Europe,

and men who could write vied with each other in completing

chronicles of the great undertakings. At first priests, then

soldiers, and then intelligent observers wrote their narratives

of events known to them narratives besprinkled with mir

acles, with knightly heroism, and with fables. Minstrels added

their songs, and from this great outpouring historians like

William, archbishop of Tyre, began to put together con

nected records of events, sifting true from false. A few ardent

spirits studied the Arabic and Byzantine chronicles. The

x Such inventions lay dormant for a long time in Europe. The Church frowned

upon the new knowledge, and branded the mechanical contrivances .of the Arabs

as creations of the Evil Onealong with naphtha and Greek fire.

Not until the great period of the Renaissance did Europeans as a rule make really

practical improvements upon the simple inventions of the orientals.

AFTERWORD 457

threads of history, lost during the Dark Ages, were taken up

again during the crusades.

The Changes

Three portions of Christian society were altered during the

crusades. They would have changed in any event, but they

were quickened and remolded by the stress of the great

undertakings.

First, the feudal nobility. The barons pulled more than

their weight in the wars; the loss of life and the drain of

money fell most heavily upon them. For generations such

lineages as the counts of Flanders, of Blois, of Champagne

voyaged regularly into the East. Seldom were the lords of

Avesnes or Coucy or Brienne absent from the frontier. Some

families died out entirely, most of them lost their younger

sons, and the whole class yielded place especially in France

to the kings and the commercial class.

Second, the commoners. Many nobles, enlisting for the holy

wars, freed their serfs. The bourgeois,, who had little social

standing at first in Europe, found themselves members of

a new and respectable middle class in Outremer, because,

although inferior to the nobles, they were above the native

population. They owned dwellings and farms in the East,

and could seek justice in a court of their own. Seamen and

merchants thrived during the revival of trade overseas, and

artisans took advantage of the demand for labor. Many

peasants, bound to the soil, went off to work as craftsmen in

the cities.

Third, the Church. At first the universal Church of Rome

profited vastly from the crusades. After the capture of Jeru

salem in the Twelfth Century the popes assumed leadership

in Europe, until the policy of Innocent III, striving for ac

tual empire, diverted the crusades to serve his own ends.

By abandoning Jerusalem, by keeping for itself much of

the treasure raised for the crusades, and by calling upon the

crusaders to wage war against the heretics at home, the

Church of Rome sacrificed the Kingdom of Jerusalem. And

it lost the popular support that had come to it with the first

458 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

crusades. Men who enlisted under the papal banner as cru

saders against the Hohenstaufen or in the Languedoc lacked

the enthusiasm of the cross-bearers who had sought Jerusa

lem.

At the same time 3 the constant demands of the papacy for

money to carry on the holy wars, while nothing was gained

for Jerusalem and the Roman court grew more and more

luxurious, at last outwearied the people s patience. The sale

of dispensations at first only the money claimed from men

who had taken the cross and would not or could not go on

crusade changed gradually to the sale of indulgences

freedom from penance enjoyed by crusaders and sold to

others who were not crusaders and eventually to the out

right sale of pardons.

All this helped bring about the exile in Avignon, and in

time the Reformation. 1

The Contributions

The crusades themselves shaped the future of our civiliza

tion in several ways.

The great military orders endured, and played their part in

events, and left their traces in the fraternal orders of to-day.

Out of the needs of the crusades grew the first national

taxation. To pay the cost of the undertakings, a tithe was

levied on the wealth of those who remained at home.

A new economic scheme of things had to be devised after

the first crusade, which had been carried on by sacrifice and

*The crusades had a distinct effect upon the political fortunes of the different

nations. They enhanced the power and the territories of France; they fed the

fortunes of Venice; they extended the frontiers of Germany (to the east), Portugal,

and the Spanish kingdoms. Byzantium at first profited from the exploitation of the

movement, and then was crushed by the crusaders in 1204.

The effect upon the papacy has been well summarized by Dr. Ernest Barker.

"The papacy had grown as a result of the crusades. Through them the popes had

deposed the emperors of the West from their headship of the world, partly because

through the crusades the popes were able to direct the common Christianity of

Europe . . . without consultation with the emperors, partly because in the Thirteenth

Century they were able to direct the crusade itself against the empire. Yet while

they had magnified, the crusades had also corrupted the papacy. They became an

instrument in its hands which it used to its own undoing."

AFTERWORD 459

indomitable purpose alone. Little actual money existed then,

and almost no ^ gold coins. The crusaders needed gold coins

to carry on their journeys silver and the baser metals being

too weighty and these were minted for them.

As the throngs of pilgrims increased, and the armies of the

cross swelled in numbers, more property cattle, land, or

feudal rights was sold at home to be turned into money,

and spent all the way from the Loire or the Rhine to the

Jordan. Trading cities thrived along the roads of the way

farers, and trade grew brisker at home. Not only men, but

money and property, were put into motion by the great en

terprises.

The Templars took a step forward in international banking

when they arranged for voyagers to deposit money in Paris

and receive in exchange a letter on which they could draw

money again in Acre or Constantinople. The newly founded

Italian banking houses in Venice and Florence imitated

them, and embarked besides upon the new business of carry

ing pilgrims east and bringing back merchandise from Asia.

On the heels of the cross-bearers, trade routes extended

into the East, and merchants went freely to Aleppo, Baghdad,

and eventually to India and China.

With the quickening of commerce, the setting forth of all

the peoples of Christendom toward the East, the long isola

tion of the Dark Ages was broken. Fleets voyaged from

Scandinavia and England into the Mediterranean, whither

only venturesome dragon ships of the Vikings had gone be

fore them. Portugal became a port of call, and Sicily turned

into a veritable metropolis of the wayfarers.

Out of the Northern seas the Danes took ship, to en

counter Hungarians and Lombards in the streets of Jerusalem.

Far-wandering Scots argued with worldly wise Greeks in

the squares of Constantinople. Shrewd Venetian adventurers

steered their galleons into the Black Sea, and made the ac

quaintance of the ice-bound Slavs.

Ships were built larger to accommodate such throngs, and

made the voyage in fleets for greater safety. The Mediter

ranean shores became familiar ground. And voyagers returned

home with tales of new lands and wonders of the earth.

460 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Travel increased between the cities of Europe, and the long

stagnation became a thing of the past.

With the end of the crusades, and the closing of the Eastern

trade routes except such as the Venetians managed to keep

open the voyages did not end. As the gates of Islam were

closed against the Christians, seamen began to seek a way

around to the Indies and to Cathay as they called China.

In 1270 the Genoese sailed out to look for the Canary Islands,

and after the fall of Acre they tried to circle Africa to get

to India.

The voyages of the Portuguese navigators in the next

century were in reality an attempt to recover the African

coast by a crusading venture. And, two centuries later,

Columbus set out to find Cathay bearing the crusaders

cross upon his sails, trusting that his voyage would pave the

way for the recovery of Jerusalem. Instead, he happened

upon America.

THE CASTLES 1 1ST SYRIA

FEW of us realize that the castles of the crusaders in the

Near East are standing to-day, for the most part. Travelers

in familiar western Europe will find few vestiges of Twelfth

Century building and art, because more modern work has

replaced the medieval. But the voyager who is willing to

explore the Near East will find whole districts unchanged

since the medieval age.

The islands of the Knights Malta and Rhodes are well

enough known and often visited. Since the Italian govern

ment has repaired the citadel in Rhodes, a moonlight walk

around the ramparts yields the illusion of a return to the

Fourteenth Century when the "tongues" of all Europe

manned the walls. And over the half moon of Smyrna s bay,

the gray citadel of the Knights towers just now a wire

less station for the Turkish military.

But it is in Syria, at present under the French mandate,

that we find almost intact some of the scenes of the crusades.

AFTERWORD 461

Above the Syrian frontier there are still some vestiges of

the crusaders, whose cathedrals in Tarsus and Edessa have

been turned into mosques. Antioch, just within the border,

has been demolished by earthquakes and war, and rebuilt

where the old city stood by the river. Only a prostrate granite

column shows where the Normans built their Cathedral of

the Apostles; but on the heights above the city the medieval

wall still stands, half ruined, and the citadel with its founda

tions atop the gorge of the Iron Gate.

In the rugged mountains south of Antioch the small cru

sader castle of Sahyoun is crouched on its pinnacle of rock,

half preserved and overgrown with thorns.

On the coast below Sahyoun, the great black Marghab

stands, its upper walls partly broken down and its lower

corridors cluttered with rubble; but with two storeys of its

round tower intact, and its chapel undamaged. The tower

wall is badly cracked and will soon fall, while the chapel

roof has been repaired. A few Arab families, some twenty-

five people with the usual children, black goats, dogs, live

within the castle s outer circuit 1 and a small forest has grown

up in the reservoir.

Still farther south and on the eastern side of the mountains,

Massiaf stands guard over its village, but with Syrian in

fantry, not Assassins, quartered around it. The tawny outer

walls have not fallen in and the entrance tower the strong

point of an Arab-built castle is fairly clear. The interior

has collapsed in part since, as in most Arab castles of the

time, mortar was not used to hold the stones in place.

x The crusaders castles in Outremer were much larger than contemporary build

ings in Europe. Some of them are twice the size of Pierrefonds and Coucy, the largest

in France. Marghab s outer wall encloses an area of more than 320,000 square feet.

The Krak is 600 yards in circuit, and its sister, the Kerak of trans-Jordan-~which

is half preserved, since Baibars and the Moslems utilized it for so long is 3,000

yards in its outer circuit.

They were solidly built, as well. Two methods of construction were used small

stone, usually basalt blocks about a foot square cemented together, as in Marghab

and Tiberias large limestone blocks fitted together without mortar, as in Tortosa

and Banyas. Some of the stones in Banyas are seven feet square. Syria and Palestine

are rich in rock, and the crusaders learned to make good use of it. Saladin brought

it to Cairo and used it in his building there the construction under the Fatimids,

including the city wall, had been of brick.

462 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

Here begins the heart of the castle country, where one is

often within sight of the other. Tortosa, one of the strong

holds of the Templars, is overbuilt by a small Arab coast

village, but the lower courses of the great walls are standing,

and the Cathedral of Our Lady is deserted its twin towers

vanished near the Moslem cemetery.

Safita s massive and lofty tower is sound enough, but the

outer circuit has half disappeared under the Moslem village.

The mighty Krak des Chevaliers, standing aloof on the

summit of a round hill, has endured for eight centuries. The

Arab families have appropriated it, and its courtyards swarm

with sheep and camels and varied filth. The chapel, however,

has been kept clean and around the entrance to the salle

now dark and desolate enough the crusaders ornaments

in stone are still intact.

Out on the coast Raymond s castle of Tripoli they call it

that looks down on the modern alleys of the seaport. 1

It has been used for nearly everything, including a stable

and a Turkish prison, and has more than half fallen to pieces

from neglect. In France or Germany, the Krak would have

been a mecca for sightseers.

Below the modern resort of Beirut, the twins Sidon and

Tyre (now known as Saida and Sur) show more than remains

of the crusaders work, although the Turks overbuilt them.

Ruins of St. Louis castle, with a single enduring tower,

crown the land side of Sidon.

Inland, two other twins, Belfort and Banyas, are much

better preserved. In fact Belfort is a wonder, with its long

x The crusaders followed two plans in their fortifications. First, usually along

the coast and usually built by Templars, a lofty outer wall with massive square

towers behind a deep moat, depending for security on its height and on a donjon

within it. That was also the Arab plan, in general followed in Massiaf and Tripoli

and Tortosa.

Second, a citadel built on a hill summit apart from any town, and shaped to the

contour of the ground, with the strongest feature of the castle placed where the

hillside gave access to a besieger. This type is found along the inland roads, and was

often built by the Hospital as in the case of Marghab and the Krak. It was usu

ally triangular to fit the hill and reduce the number of corners with numerous

small round towers, and a low wall surmounting a sloping talus or base.

The great age of the crusaders fortification was from 1130 to 1200. Chateau

Plerin, the last great citadel to go up, was built in 1217.

AFTERWORD 463

corridors built into the rock, its embrasures peering out on a

seemingly bottomless gorge.

Across the border in Palestine stands the Acre region,

with its arc of protecting castles that sheltered Nazareth.

Turon, Montfort, and Safed lie in ruins, while the black

citadel of Tiberias traces its circuit through the drowsy

streets of the little town by Galilee. In the heart of Acre

itself the buildings of the crusaders are clearly visible

especially the quarters of the Hospitalers. South of Acre

the almost impregnable Khaukab al Hawwa (Star of the

Winds) and Chateau Pelerin are half ruined but impressive

still.

Of the churches and chapels of the crusaders, less remains.

Many were converted into mosques and overbuilt, while

Baibars and the Kharesmians destroyed the holy places of

the Nazarenes ruthlessly. Nazareth itself and Mount Tabor

that had been a fortified monastery with an abbey, and

had been besieged and captured and retaken many times

he destroyed stone by stone. In the Jerusalem region also

the mamluks wrought havoc. But Baibars, and all the Mos

lem conquerors, spared the church at Bethlehem. Saladin

preserved St. Anne s at Jerusalem. The work of the crusaders

is visible all through Jerusalem from the tiny marble altars

in the Cavern of the Souls, to the beautiful pointed arches

of the Sepulcher courtyard.

And throughout the region round the city their handwork

is to be seen from the small cathedral of Ramlah to the

great mosque of Hebron.

In Jaffa and Ascalon their handwork has almost been

obliterated.

Out in the island of Cyprus, however, their castles stand,

and their cathedral at Nicosia.

The crusaders castles in the East have passed from hand

to hand, and have been neglected for some seven centuries

they have been used as quarries when convenient, and as

robbers haunts, and tenements for wandering Arab villagers.

Few people know of them or visit them except in the cita-

464 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

dels of Rhodes and Malta, built after the crusades and,

although the French High Commission in Syria is discussing

measures to preserve the Krak, it is doubtful if any attempt

will be made to save the castles from final destruction.

They remain deserted in a half-deserted country, and the

very Arabs who live in their shadow know no more of them

than that they are there. The sheep graze on their mountain

slopes, the cactus climbs over the rubble beneath them, and

lizards scurry across their great stones when the sun is warm.

They look down on the same countryside as before, where

the camel strings pass and solitary horsemen go by in silence.

The cisterns are heavy with green scum, and wind blows

through the cracks in the towers. The land has not changed

but the men have gone from it.

They are old, these castles, and the hills are steep. Hot is

the sun at the desert s edge and heavy the rain. In time they

will crumble into the hills forgotten monuments of van

ished men.

WHAT WE MODERNS THINK

FOR two centuries of the thousand-year strife between

Islam and Christianity, the cross-bearers carried the war

into Asia. They fortified themselves beyond the sea,

making the valley of the Jordan the front line of Christen

dom. At the end of the two centuries they were driven out

of this front line, because they were left without support in

the face of the new Moslem forces drawn from central Asia.

Counter-attacks launched from Europe failed to recover

this ground, and in the next centuries the Moslem attack

swept on over the Mediterranean and into eastern Europe.

The crusaders sacrificed themselves in taking and holding

that front line. While they were on the Jordan, the rest of

Europe except in Spain, where the crusaders also appeared

before long was safe from Moslem aggression. And after

the crusaders were wiped out, the experience gained in their

wars, the new weapons and lessons learned in strategy and

in fortification, and especially the new fleets built up during

AFTERWORD 465

the crusades, aided in the preservation of Europe when Chris

tendom was placed on the defensive.

So, as a military venture in that long war, the crusades

gained much. The loss was in the sacrifice of lives and wealth

the gain in experience.

So says the soldier.

With all this the scoffer will not agree. And just at present

he is very much in fashion. He sees in the crusades a waste of

hundreds of thousands of lives, and uncounted wealth. He

reminds us that the first cross-bearers ate human flesh at

need and stained their swords by savage massacres. And that

later, adventurers and plunderers filled their ranks. It seems

to him that these men set out to be saints and ended by

being devils. He decries the whole thing as a failure.

The scoffer, however, is weighing men of the Twelfth

Century in scales of the Twentieth. If he had lived when the

crusaders lived, he would have known:

That other men as well had eaten human flesh at need.

That the crusaders ceased the massacres after the first

onrush, when they had settled in Outremer and thereafter

the mamluks, for example, equaled the worst of their deeds.

That the feudal and political wars of the peoples in Europe

went on continuously, while there was peace in Jerusalem

after the crusaders conquest for eighty years, and even truce

at home during the great crusades.

That the venturesome crusaders instead of looking for

fortunes in the East sold or mortgaged their property at

home in order to journey into the East, and gained little

thereby.

That instead of regarding themselves as saints, they were

usually men who set out on crusade to expiate their sins.

And so great was the peril of the venture that the Church

accounted it the most arduous penance of all.

That, so far from being a failure, the people of that time

looked upon the conquest of Jerusalem as a triumph, and

the relics brought back as more than compensating for the

losses. . . .

To-day the cynic is quite the vogue, and his voice outcries

466 THE FLAME OF ISLAM

the idealist. But there is, after all, something ignoble in be

littling a mighty and unselfish undertaking, and in defacing

the memory of men who sacrificed themselves. Nor does it

become us of to-day, who have seen our world plunged into

war for no apparent cause, to cast stones at those who fought

during two centuries for what they believed to be the greatest

of earthly causes.

We of to-day have rebuilt the forum of the Caesars and

many temples. But we cannot restore the Kingdom of Jerusa

lem, where our ancestors sought, beyond the sea, to dwell

beside the tomb of Christ in peace.

It is vanished, with the dream of Godfrey of Bouillon, and

the exhortation of Saint Bernard, the ambition of Coeur de

Lion, the pitiful seeking of the children, the devotion of

St. Louis. The city is lost, the kingdom a memory, the

chivalry of Outremer scattered, and the gardens and cathe

drals built so patiently beyond the sea stand deserted, or

house the new hordes of Asia.

And it will never return again. That day, when the cru

saders built their little crude paradise around the Sepulcher,

is past. When, after centuries, Christian pilgrims made their

way back slowly to Jerusalem, they found ruins ill tended by

the Moslems. They found the chapels of the crusaders, and

the Garden of Gethsemane. They watched the sunsets darken

over the Tower of David, and they stood by the pool where

once an angel had troubled the waters. But they saw these

things with changed eyes. They rebuilt the ruins, but not

the city of which Godfrey had dreamed.

No one can rebuild the lost city, wherein for eighty years

the faith of the crusaders lifted them out of the current of a

merciless age. . . .

So says the idealist.

Say what we will, the crusades will endure as a cherished

memory. We wonder at them perhaps we do not understand

them.

For to their own dark age the crusaders brought the fire

of unselfish purpose. Around this fire they drew men from

AFTERWORD 467

all lands centuries before the first alliance of peoples

in our modern world. And by this light they went out into

the unknown regions centuries before Europe could send

forth its colonists.

And this spirit of the crusades was not in the world before

they came, and it has not appeared again, after their passing.

No words of ours can alter what these men did the best

or the worst of them who followed a star. They drained

the cup of devotion, and if they tasted the dregs of shame,

they knew also the exaltation of victory. They reached the

summit of daring.

And the memory of that will endure long after our own

workaday lives are ended.

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

THIS book is based chiefly upon the original narratives or the annals

of the amir Ousama, the Christian archbishop William of Tyre, the

man of letters from Mosul, Baha ad Din, the Norman minstrel

Ambrose, the soldier Ville-Hardouin with the knight De Clari

and the Byzantine secretary Nicetas the Egyptian Makrisi, the

monk Ernoul, the lord of Joinville, and the Syrian Abulfarag.

With these, the following sources and modern works have been

found most useful:

PARTS I-II

SOURCES

Abou 1-feda, Annaks. Recueil des historiens des croisades His-

toriens orient aux L

Aly el Herewy. Voyage.

Ambrose. L Estoire de la guerre sainte. Ed., G. Paris Documents

inedits sur fhistoire de Prance. Paris, 1897.

Baha ad Din. La Vie du Sultan Youssouf (Salah ad Din). Recueil

Hist, orient. III.

Chronicon. Otto of Saint Blaise. Monumenta Germaniae Historica

Scriptores. XX, XXIII.

47i

472 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

Chronique de Michel le Syrien. Re cueil Documents armeniens. I.

Devizes, Richard. Chronicle. Bohn s Antiquarian Library, London

1871.

Epistulae. (Letters of Christians in Outremer to Europe.) Patrologia

Latina. CCL

Epistulae de Morte Imperatoris. Mon. Germ. Scrip. XX.

Haymar. De Expugnata Accone, Liber Tetrasticus. Ed., Riant.

Lyons, 1866.

Hoveden, Roger. Chronica. Ed., W. Stubbs, Rolls Series, 1871.

Ibn Athir. Histoire des atabegs de Mosul. Recueil Hist, orient. II.

Ibn Jubair. Extrait du voyage d Ibn Djobeir. Recueil Hist, orient

III.

Le Livre des deux Jardins (Histoire des deux regnes, celui de Nour ad

Din, et celui de Salah ad Din.} Recueil.

Nasiri Khusrau. (Diary of a Journey through Syria and Palestine.}

Trans., Guy le Strange.

Ousama. Souvenirs historiques et recits de chasse par un emir syrien

du douzieme siecle. Paris, 1895. Trans., H. Derenbourg.

Regesta Regni Hierosolymitani (MXCVII-MCCXCI) Ed., Roh-

richt. 1893.

William of Tyre. Guillaume de Tyre et ses continuateurs textepar

M. Paulin Paris. Paris, 1879.

MODERN WORKS

Du Cange. Les Families d* Outremer. Documents intdits sur Fhistoire

de France. 1869.

Enlart, C. Les Monuments des croises dans le royaume de Jerusalem

architecture religieuse et civile. Paris, 1928.

Hammer. Histoire de Fordre des Assassins. Paris, 1833.

Kohler, C. H. Melanges de f Orient latin et des croisades. Paris, 1900.

Lane Poole, S. Saladin.

History of Mediaeval Egypt.

Le Strange, G. Palestine under the Moslems. London, 1890.

Paris, G. La Legende de Saladin. (Journal des Savants. 1893.)

Rey, E. G. Etude sur les monuments de f architecture militaire des

croises en Syrie et dans file de Chypre. Doc. intd. sur I" hist, de

France. 1871.

Les Colonies franques de Syrie aux XII* et XI IP siecles.

Paris, 1883.

Schlumberger, G. Renaud de Chatillon, prince d dntioche. Paris,

1898.

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY 473

Stevenson. The Crusaders in the East A Brief History of the Wars

of Islam with the Latins in Syria during the Twelfth and

Thirteenth Centuries. Cambridge, 1907.

Vincent et Abel. Jerusalem Recherches de topographie, d archeo-

logie et d histoire. Paris, 1914.

PARTS III-IV

SOURCES

Chronic on Venetum. Muratori Scrip tores. XII.

De Clari, Robert. La conquete de Constantinople. Paris, 1924.

Exuviae Sacrae Constantinopolitanae. Ed., Riant. Geneve, 1877.

Gesta Innocentii Papae. Patrologia Latina. CCXIV.

Gestes des Chiprois. Eds. De Mas-Latrie et G. Paris. Recueil

Docum. Armen. II.

Historia Diplomatica Friderici Secundi. Huillard-Breholles. Paris,

1861.

Joinville. Chronicle. Bohn s Antiquarian Library. 1871.

Vie de Saint Louis. Ed., De Wailly, 1867.

Lettres inedites d* Innocent III. Biblio. Ecole des Chartes. XXXIV.

Muratori Rerum Italicarum Scriptores. VII.

Nicetas. Historia degli Imperatori Greet dal MCXVII fino al

MCCIIL Venetia, 1562.

Testimonia Minora de Ofytinto Bello Sacro e Chronicis Occidentalibus.

Ed., Rohricht. Societt de I orient latin. Geneve, 1892.

Ville-Hardouin. La conquete de Constantinople. Ed., De Wailly.

1872.

MODE RN WORKS

Blochet. Les relations diplomatiques des Hohenstaufen avec les

sultans d Egypte. Rev. Hist. LXXXI.

Brehier, L. LEglise et f Orient au moyen age les croisades. Paris,

1928.

Burger. Saint Louis et Innocent IV> etude sur les rapports de la

France et du Saint Stige. Paris, 1893.

De Mas-Latrie. Histoire de I He de Chypre, sous le regne des princes

de la maison de Lusignan. Paris, 1861.

Helfelc, C. Histoire des conciles. Tome V, 1152-1250. Paris, 1913,

Heyd, W. Histoire du commerce du Levant au moyen age. Trad. par.

Raynaud. Leipzig, 1923.

474 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

Lavisse. De Hermano Sahensi Ordinis Teutonici Magistro. Paris,

1878.

Luchaire. Innocent III: la question f Orient. Paris, 1907.

Riant. Innocent III, Philippe de Souabe et Boniface de Montferrat.

Paris, 1867.

Le changement de direction de la quatrieme croisade. Rev.

des Quest. Hist. 1878.

Segue. Histoire de Louis XL

PART V

SOURCES

Chronicon Syriacum y Gregorii Abulpharagii^ she Bar-Hebraei.

Lipsiae, 1789.

Chronique du Templier de Tyre. Ed., Raynaud. Soc. Or. lat. Geneve,

1887.

Deux Projets de croisades (XIH -XIV siMe). Ch. Kohler. Rev.

de I Or. lat. 1903-4.

Directorium ad Faciendum Passagium Transmarinum. Amer. Hist.

Rev. XII.

Hayton. Le Flor des estoires de la terre d Qrient. Recueil Doc.

Armen. II.

Historia orientalis* Jacques de Vitry.

Lettres de Ricoldo de Monte Croce. Rohricht. Trad, far M. Furey

Raynaud. Arch. Or. lat. II.

Makrisi. Histoire fEgypte. Trad, par Blochet. Rev. Or. lat. 1898-

1906.

Mar Yaballaha. History. Trans., James Montgomery. New York,

1927.

Marco Polo. Le Livre de Marco Po/o, citoyen de Venise. Charignon,

1928.

Marinus Sanutus. Secrets for True Crusaders To Help Them To Re

cover the Holy Land. Pal. Pilgr. Text Soc, 1921.

Matthew Paris. Chronica majora. Ed., Luard. 1872-83.

Peregrinatores Medii A em jjuatuor Bur char dus de Monte Sion:

Ricoldo de Monte Cruets: Ordoricus de Foro Julii: Wilbrandus

de Oldenburg. Ed., Laurent. Lipsiae, 1864.

Raschid ed Din. Histoire des Mongols de la Perse. Ed. et trad.)

Quatremer, Paris, 1836.

Rubruquis. Relation des voyages en Tartarie de Fr. Cuillaume de

Rubruquis> Fr. Jean du Plan Carpin. Paris, 1634,

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY 475

MODERN WORKS

Abul Ghazi Bahadur. Histoire des Mogols et des Tartares. Trad, far

le baron Desmaisons. St. Petersburg, 1871.

Backer, L. UExtreme Orient au moyen age apres les mss. d un

Flamand de Belgique, et d un prince d? Armenie. Paris, 1877.

Beazley, Ch. The Dawn of Modern Geography. London and Oxford.

1897.

Cahun, L. Introduction a Vhistoire de V Asie: Turcs et Mongols des

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Chambure, M. de. Rdgle et statuts secrets des Templiers. Paris, 1840.

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Delaville la Roulx. Les Hospitaliers en Terre Sainte et a Chypre.

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33.37.38, 41-

INDEX

(In long lists of references., the more important

are set in italic

Abaka, of Persia, 422, 426.

Abou Abdallah of Toledo, 19.

Abou Bakr, 203.

Aboul Heidja the Fat, 174, 175.

Abulfareg, 164.

Acarnania, 266,

Accursed Tower, Acre, in, 135, 137.

fall of, 138.

Acerbius, 221.

Acre, 149, 158, 161, 193, 409, 428, 429,

463.

fall to Moslems, 431-432.

fall to Saladin, 74.

fall to Richard, 139.

loss of Christians, 141, note 141.

massacre, 145.

siege by Guy, 100 et seq.

terms to Richard, 144.

admiral, note, 374.

Adrianople, 254, 266.

Adriatic Sea, 266.

Aegean Sea, 266.

Afghans, 399.

Ahamant, 58.

Ai Beg the Kurd, 351.

Ain Jalut, battle of, 403.

Al Adhil the Just, 44, 74, 76, no, 135,

151, 152, 159-160, 174, 179, 186,

190, 193, 198, 199, 200, 205-206,

212, 2/j, 280, note, 281, 284, 286,

287,

Al Aksa, note 14, 77, 81, 176, 310.

Al Ayidiya, 135.

Al Aziz, 206.

Al Kamil, 287, 309, 314.

Mansura, 291-295, note 292.

treaty with Frederick, 310, note 310.

Al Kama*, 414.

Al Kuds (see Jerusalem), 5.

Al Mansur of Hamah, 333.

Al Yashur, 18, 19.

Alamut, 25, 399.

castle of, 25.

Alan of the Stable, 161.

Alberic of Rheims, 180.

Albertus Magnus, 392.

Aleppo, 9, 26, 43, 61, 89, 121, 205, 331,

400, 403.

Alexandria, 7, 28, 209, 278, 284, 292.

Alexis III, Emperor of Constantinople,

228, 236, note 241, 252, 255.

Alexis, son of Isaac, 228, 220, 236, 241,

244, 249, 253, 255.

Almagest, 455-

Alphonse of Poitiers, 348, 355, 380, 381.

Aluh the Eagle, 37, 86.

Amalric, King of Jerusalem, 29, 30, 38.

Amalric of Cyprus, 280, 450.

Amalric of Lusignan, 51, 64, note 72,

o8> 141, 2ii, 212.

death, 286.

King of Jerusalem, 213, 224,

479

480

INDEX

Ambrose, ros, 104-6, 108-110, 115, 117,

118, 127, note 128, 134, 142, 143,

149, 150, 1 60, note 170, note 177,

199, 200.

Ancona, 236.

Andrew, 105.

Andrew II, King of Hungary, 282.

Andrew of Chavigny, 134, 182, 199.

Andros, 244, 266.

Ani, bishop of, 121.

Anjou, Knights of, 153, 172.

an-Nadjar (see Ibn an-Nadjar).

Antioch, 56, 65, <?p, 122, 324, 409, note

413, 461.

attack by Baibars, 414-415.

princes of, 280, 335, 413.

Arabia, products of, 9.

Arabian Nights (see Thousand and

One Nights) note 405.

Arabs, 4, 246, note 418.

Bai bars , 409.

inheritance from, 455, note 456.

intellectuals, 10, 20, 21.

position of, 7.

tradesmen, 9.

Aragon, 270, 274, 395.

Aral, lake, 331.

Archimedes, 21.

Arghum, 430, note 430.

Aristotle, 455.

Arm of St. George, Constantinople, 245.

Armageddon, 52.

Armenians, 26, 56, 93, 280, 281, note

400, 408.

Arnat (see Reginald of Chltillon), 55.

Arsuf, 155, 195, 410, note 420.

Arta, 266.

Asad ad Din, 174.

Ascalon, 4 8, 51, 76, 157, 169, 179, 193,

2 9*> 3 2 5 not e 420, 463.

destruction of, 156.

fall to Saladin, 77.

Asia, Central, 6.

Asia Minor, 26.

As-Sahib Jamal ad Din ibn Matroub,

388.

Assassins, the (see Ismailites, Old Man

of the Mountain), 23, 26, 164 note,

383, 4^1.

^ .

Athlit (see Chateau P&erin), 324-325.

Auberg, C16ment, 138.

Austria, duke of, 285.

Austrians, 94, 282.

Averroes, 310, 328.

A vie, 245.

Avignon, 448.

Ayoub, father of Saladin, 27, 32, 34, 35^

3 s ;

Ayoubites, 205.

Ayub, sultan of Cairo, 349, 351.

Aziz ad Din, 181-182.

Baalbek, 175, 291.

lord of, 122.

Bacon, Friar Roger, 322, 392.

Baghdad, 7, 20, 93, 399, 400.

markets of, 9.

Bagras, 90.

Baha ad Din, 85, 89, 91, 93, 99j IO4 -

105, 125, 126, note 128, 135, 136,

139, note 144, 151, 152, note 154,

157, note 165, note 170, 173-177,

180-182, 183, 198, 202, 203-204,

213.

Bahairiz, 364.

Bahriyas, note 418.

Baibars the Panther, 332, 335, 351, 355,

note 362, 364, 374, 392, 402, 404,

405, note 405, 406 et seq., 463.

army of, 418-419, note 418.

Bohemund VI, 414.

Damascus, 408.

death, 423, 425.

Jaffa, 412, 413, note 413.

Montfort, 420, 421-423.

sultan of Cairo, 405.

Bait-Jebrail, 77, 402.

Bait-Laim (see Bethlehem), 77.

Baldwin, count of Fknders, 224, 235,

242, 248, 250, 251, 252, 260, 271,

note 321.

coronation, 267, note 267, 268.

death, 268.

emperor of Constantinople, 266.

Baldwin de Carreo, 154,

Baldwin the Leper, 48, 53, 56, 62, 383.

Bale, 224.

Balian d lbelin, 77, 143, 193, 314, 315.

Balkis, temple of, 9.

Banyas, 57, 383, note 461, 462.

Bar, count of, 105.

Barbarossa (see Frederick Barbarossa)

Bari, 210, 212.

INDEX

481

Barker, Dr. Ernest, note 458,

Bartholomew, 373.

Basilica of Sion, 47.

Bavaria, 94.

Beam, count of, 272.

Beauvais, bishop of, 105, 114, 154.

Bedawin tribe, 4, 6, 7, 9, 28, 33, 153,

note 418.

customs of, 360.

Beirut, 76, 165, 179, 182, 212, 308, 462.

Belfort, 91, 95-96, 104, 121, 329, 412.

b Slier s, 123-124.

Berber, 7, 409.

Berengaria of Navarre, 132, 146, 195,

201.

Beersheba, 57.

Besancon, bishop of, 123.

Bethlehem, 291, 310, 334.

Beth Nable, 169, 172, 195.

Bethsan, 54.

Bezi&res, 274.

Bika, 90.

Blachernae, 250, 261.

Blanche, Queen, 345, 385.

Blanche Garde, 169.

Blondel, 195.

Bohemund, 114.

Bohemund V of Antioch, 335.

Bohemund VI of Antioch, 400, 411, 413,

414, 419, 425.

Bohemund VII, 430.

Bohn, note 356.

Bokhara, 10.

Boniface of Montserrat, 225, 228, 229,

236, 241, note 241, 242, 248, 254,

261, 264, 266.

Book of Sibiwaihi) 19.

Borzia, 90.

Bosphorus Strait, 246.

Boucicaut, note 440,

Brabazons, 168.

Bretons, 153.

Breienne, count of, 105, 108.

Brindisi, 209, 304.

"Brothers of the German House", 212.

Bucoleon, 261.

Bulgars, 227, 228, 246, 266, note 364.

Burak, 5.

Burgundians, 94, 248.

Burgundy, duke of, 153, 163, 353, 357,

35&> 367-

Buscarel, 430.

Byzantines, 27, 117, 266, 268, 282.

ranks of, 282.

Byzantium (see Constantinople), 8, 9,

227.

Caesarea, 76, 151, 193, 409, note 420.

Cairo, 20, 22, 25, 104, 169, 205, 284, 292,

note 292, 332, note 345, 365, 402^

412.

crusade to, 283 et seq.

retreat from, 293-294.

Calvary, 200.

camlets, 384, note 384.

Candia, 209.

Canterbury, archbishop of, 133.

Capernum, 150.

Cardinal Lothaire (see Innocent III),

217.

casals, 325.

Castile, 395.

Castle Jacob, 57.

Cathars, 272.

Cathay (see China), 9, 397, 402, 460.

Cathedral of Our Lady, 462.

Catholicos, 121.

Catzene Inbogen, count of, 237.

Cavern of Souls, Jerusalem, 14, note 14.

Cencio Savelli, 282.

Cephalonia, 266.

Chagan, 430.

Chalcedony, 247.

Chalons, count of, 120.

Charles of Anjou, 34.8, 350, 357, 365,

380, 388, 407, 416, note 416.

Children s Crusade, 277-278.

China (see Cathay), 9.

Chinese, 399 note.

Chronicles of the Crusades. By Bohn,

note 356.

Church, change of, 457-458.

effect of crusades, note 458.

lack of influence, 56.

of Rome, 395.

power of, 221 et seq,

war with empire, 317.

Circassians, 424.

citadels, construction of, 57.

City of Tents (see El Kahira), 28.

Clement V, 443, 445, 448, 450, 451,

452.

Clermont, count of, 120.

Cola di Rienzi, 318.

482

INDEX

Colossi, 308.

Columbus, 460.

Commanders of the Faithful, 8.

Conrad, 212.

Conrad of Montserrat, 88, pp, 103, 115,

126, 129, 141, 143, 1^3, 164, note

164, 197.

Conrad, son of Frederick, 305, 339, 407.

Constance, 210, 226, 279.

Constantine, 39$.

Constantinople (see Byzantium), 10,

93, 225, 240.

attack on, 245, 257.

division of treasure, 265.

emperor of, 266, 456.

fall of, 262.

riot of crusaders, 255, note 364.

terms to crusaders, 248.

treaty with crusaders, 253.

Connon de Be"thune, 248.

Conti, 276.

Coptic Monks, 56.

Cordoba, 7*

Corinth, gulf of, 266.

Coucy, lord of, 356.

Council of Vienna, 450 et seq.

Cremona, 319.

Crete, 266, 281.

Crusades, Acre, 100, 139, note 283.

Cairo, 285.

changes caused by, 457~458.

Constantinople, 245, note 283.

contributions of, 458-460.

effect on Church, 458 note.

first Egyptian, 283.

modern attitude, 464*466.

money, 459,

results of, 454 et scg.

second crusade of Louis, 41 1.

Crusaders, 207 et seg., 275, 280, 334, 335.

attack on Constantinople, 248 et $cq.

castles of, note 462*

churches, 463.

end, 441.

last of, 433.

remainder of, 400, note 401, 409.

spirit gone, 440, note 440.

strongholds, 420 note.

Curia, 270, 303, 328, 339, 409-

Cyprus, no, 164, 168, 285, 308, 324,

329, 429, 463.

king of, 437.

Dahira, 412.

Damascus, 7, 8, 204-205, 284, 400, 403,

408, 416.

attitude towards Saladin, 40, 42.

fall of, 334.

markets of, 9.

sultan of, 290.

Damietta, 32, 284, 363, 375.

capture by Louis, 348, note 348.

fall, 288.

Dandolo, Henry, 229, 235, 237, 239, 240,

note 241, 243, 244, 247-248, 251,

254, note 254, 255, 265-266.

terms to crusaders, 256.

Dante, 318, 454.

Dardanelles (Hellespont), 245.

Darum, 76.

fort of, 1 68,

De Beaujeu, 348, 350, 353, 357.

De Bron, Guillaume, 359.

De Chastillon, 368.

De Corvant, Sir Josselin, 367.

De Coucy, Sieur, 233, 244.

De Gaymaches, Jean de, 359.

De Loppey, Sir Ferreys, 356, 357.

De Mauleon, 190.

De Menoncourt, Sir Reginault, 356.

De Molay, Jacques, 443, 445> 45 2 ~453*

De Nouilly, Sir Pierre, 358.

De Riddeford, 63, 67, 71, 98.

De Sergines, Sir Geoffrey, 368-369, 379,

380.

De Soissons, Sir Jean, 358, 359.

De Sonnac, 348, 349, 354, 360, 365.

De Trichatel, Sir Hugues, 356.

De Valeri, Sir Jecun, 359,

De Valeri, Sir John, 357.

De Vinsouf, 153, note 170, note 177,

197.

De Wailly, note 356.

De Wanon, Sir Raoul, 356, 357.

De Waysy, Jean, 361.

Dead River, 152.

Dead Sea, 28.

D Escosse, Sir Hugues, 356, 357.

Derenbourg, M, Hartwig, note 20,

D lbelin, Sir Baldwin, 375.

D lbelin, Sir Guy, 376.

Djordic, 176, 181.

Dolderim, 185.

Dominicans, 432, 446,

Durazzo, 266.

INDEX

483

Ecry-sur-aisne, 224.

Edessa, 15, 26.

Edward II, 440.

Edward, prince of England, 416, 421,

422, 424, 425.

Egypt, 8.

El Aksa Mosque (see Al Aksa),

El Fadil, 34, 37-

El Kahira, the Guarded (see Cairo),

28.

El Khuweilfa, 170.

El Mahdi, the Guided One, 28.

El Malik en Nasr (see Saladin), 30.

Eleanor, 421, 422.

Eleanor of Guinne, 146, 201.

Elucidation of AlFarisi^ 19.

England, 395.

Epirus, 266.

Err at d Esmeray, 356, 357.

Esdrelon, 54.

Etolia, 266.

Euboea, 266.

Euphrates, 26.

Examples and the Flowers of Speech, 19.

Ezaz, city of, 40.

Fakhr ad Din, note 348, 352, 355.

Fatima, 28.

Faracatai, 376.

Fauvel, horse, 150.

fedawi, 23.

Ferentino, 304.

Ferrukh Shah, 175.

Filangieri, 315.

Flagellants, 341.

Flame of the Franks (see Krak of the

Knights).

Flanders, count of, 133-134-

Flanders, count of (see Baldwin).

Flanders, count of, 376, 380.

Flanders, earl of, 367.

Flemings, 282.

Florence, 395.

Foix, count of, 272.

Forbelet, 54.

France, 395.

Franconia, 94.

Franks, 17, note 17.

Frederick Barbarossa (Frederick the

Red Beard), 93.

death, 120.

warning to Saladbj 120.

Frederick II of Hohenstaufen, emperor,

226, 279, 282, 289, 290, 295, 302,

306, 371 note, 393, 456.

back to Italy, 314.

Cyprus, 308-309.

death, 339.

deposed by pope, 319.

excommunication of, 306.

king of Jerusalem, 312.

king of Thessalonica, 316.

march to Rome, 320.

Mongols, 321, 336, 337.

treaty with Al Kamil, 310.

war with Gregory IX, 316, 318.

voyage to Jerusalem, 307 et seq*

Frederick of Swabia, 120, 122, 133.

French, customs of army, note 139.

disease and famine, 366.

Frisians, 94.

Fulk, cur6 of Neuilly, 224, 237.

Galatea, 247.

Galen, 21.

Galilee, 49, 291,

Gallipoli, 266.

Gana im, 18.

Garden of Gethsemane, 5.

Garmer de Napes, 153.

Gate of David, Jerusalem, 77, 80.

Gaza, 76, 168, 331.

battle of, 334.

Genoa, 209, 280, 293.

Genoese, 163, 292, 379, note 379, 426.

Geoffrey of Lusignan, 102, note 102,

108, 141, 142.

Geoffrey of Ville-Hardouin, 234, 235,

239, 242, 244, 245, 251-253, 255,

261, 264.

Georgians, note 400; 426.

Germans, 248.

Germany, 395, 407.

Ghazan, 436.

Ghengis Khan, 321, 424.

Gibraltar, 6.

Godfrey of Bouillon, 395.

Gog, 383.

Golden Gate, Jerusalem, 14, note 14.

Golden Horde, 440.

Gray Moeque> 2#.

Grayir, 118.

Great Palace, 29.

Greek Fire, 116, 123, 135, 3^6.

4 8 4

INDEX

Greeks, 244, 249.

Gregory IX, 305.

death, 321.

deposition of Frederick, 319.

excommunication of Frederick, 306,

3*9-

war with Frederick, 316-317.

gunpowder, 392, note 399.

Guy of Lusignan, 57, 53~S5> note 72,

9$, 99> 105, 108, 115, 141, 153, 163,

164.

Acre, 100.

flight to Ascaion, 56.

Had], 13.

hadjis, 16,

Haifa, 76, 126, 2QI, 410.

Hakhberi, 37.

Halberstadt, bishop of, 237,

Mka, 135, 364, 375.

Hamah, note 17, 89, 91, 291.

Haram, note 14.

Harotm ar Raschid, 8, 10.

Hassan ibn Sabah (see Old Man of

the Mountain), 22-25^ note 41.

Hattin, 70-73.

Hautefort, 168,

Hawwarah, note 418-419.

Haython, king of Armenia, 400, 401,

402, 41 1, 4*5-

Hebron, 334, 402.

Hellespont (see Dardanelles).

Henri, 360,

Henry, brother of Baldwin, 248, 264.

Henry III, 322,

Henry VI of Hohenstaufen, 210, 212,

Henry, count of Champagne, 720, 121,

126, 129, /^r, 154, 165, 186, 192,

194, 213.

Henry of Anjou, 146.

Henry of Cyprus, 430, 450.

Heraclea, 266.

Heraclius, 56, 63-64, 77, 79, 8o f

Herman of Salza, 291, 304, 312,

Hermon, 96, 101.

Herod s Temple, note 14.

Hieres, 387.

Hildebrand, 220, 31 8.

Historia Rerum in Paftttus Trans-

mar in us Gestarum, 53.

Holy Land, 3.

Holy War (see jihad), 15, 44.

Horns, 91.

Honorius, 304, 305.

Horns of Hamah, 40.

Horns of Hattin, battle of the, 70.

Hospital of St. John, 56, 212,

Hospitalers, 57, 66, 105-106, 153, 182,

271, 3", note 3* i ,3*7, 333, 383,

409, 419, note 418-419, note 44 o,

441.

Hugh, Count, 242.

Hugh of Piraud, 445.

Hugh of Revel, 419.

Hulagu, 399, 4 oi, 402, 403.

Humphrey of Toron, 60, 64, 98, 142,

TT * 43, * 58, 193-

Hungarians, 10.

Hungary, 395,

Huns, 246.

Ibelin, castle of, 76.

Ibn an-Nadjar, n6.

Idrisi, 20, 328, 456.

Illyrians, 94.

Imad ad Din, 86, 93.

imams, 10.

India, products of, 9, 10.

Ingeborg, 220, 221, 222.

Innocent III, j>/j, 2/8 ft sq. t 281, 303.

attacks, 274,

attitude towards crusades, 222, 271.

Constantinople, 269-270,

death, 279,

heresy, 273.

Jerusalem, 279.

politics, 226-227, 240, 241, note 241.

preparations, 224.

Innocent IV, 336 ft scq^ 401.

Ionian Islands, 266,

Ionian Sea, 266,

Irak, 62, 89, note 41 8.

Isaac the Angel, 93-94, 211, 213, 228,

236.

death, 2 5 5.

treaty with crusaders, 253,

Isabel, 60, 64, 77, 142, 165, 213,

Islam, 4, 5, io.

boundaries, 6.

customs, n, 15,

eastern frontier, io.

Islamites (see Turks, Saracens, Mos

lems).

Island of St. Nicholas, 234.

INDEX

485

Ismail, sultan of Damascus, 332.

Ismailites (see Assassins), 22, 40.

Italy, 408.

Jacobites, 56.

Jaffa, 51, 148, 158, 161, 193, 212, 383,

412, 463.

battle of, 179 et seq.

James of Avesnes, 103, 108, 154, 155.

Jean, 372.

Jebal, 5.

Jebala, 90.

Jerusalem, 4, 5, 338, 456.

attacked by Turks, 53, 77.

attacked by Kharesmians, 332.

conceded to Frederick, 310.

description, 46, 47, 49.

discord in army, 55.

fall of, 80.

famine, 55.

kingship of, 142.

march by Richard, 149 et seq.

peace, 194.

visit to Sepulcher, 200.

jihad> i $,44.

Jifar, 169.

Joanna, 146, 160.

John, brother of Richard, 146, 164, 168,

270.

John de Nesle, 280.

John, lord of Joinville, 343, 344, 345>

350, 356 et seq., 364 et seq.> 370 et

seq., 382 et seq. y 394.

capture of, 371.

John of Brienne, king of Jerusalem, 286,

289, 290, 291, 293, 294, 304, 305,

316-

John of Ibelin, 308, 344.

John, son of Louis, 379.

John the Armenian, 383.

Jordan, 4, 28.

Josselin of Montoire, Sir, 129.

Justinian, 395.

Kaaba, 7, 29.

kadis y 10.

Kadmons, 423.

Kahf, 423.

Kairuwan, 278.

Kalawun, note 418-419, 4 2 5> 4^6, 4^7>

428.

Kalif Al Mustadi of Baghdad, 36-37.

Kalif of Cairo, 28, 29.

Kalif of Walid, 8.

Kanana Clan, note 348.

Karadja l Yarouki, 203.

Karakorum, 322, 398, 401, 402.

Karakush, 34, 44, 95, 104, 116, 123, 127,

135, 145-

Kazars, 10.

Kedron, 48.

Kerak, 57, 58, 91, note 292.

amir of, 333.

Kerak of Trans-Jordan, note 461.

Ketabogha, 402, 403.

Kha Khan (see Mangu).

khalats, 13.

Khalid, 7.

Khan el Khalil, 423.

Khankab al Hawwa (see Star of the

Winds).

Kharesmians, 331 et seq^ note 364, 424.

khojas, 1 6.

Khorassan,399.

Kilidj Arslan, sultan of Roum, 27, 93,

122.

Kirghiz, 399.

Knights of Jerusalem, 66.

Knights of Malta, note 440.

Kopts, note 400.

Koran, the, 7.

Korea, 398.

Krak des Chevaliers, note 17, 89, 95,

409, 416, 418, note 420, note 461,

462.

Krak of the Knights (Flame of the

Franks), 57.

Kubilai, 438.

Kurds, 13, note 418-419.

Lackland, John, 274.

Ladder of Tyre, 101.

Languedoc, 274, 282.

Laodicea, 90.

Le Brun, Sir Gilles, 386.

Lebanon, 28, 76.

Leon, king of Armenia, 211, 212.

Leopold of Austria, 202.

Light of the Faith (see Nur ad Din), 27.

Limassol, 308.

Lithuanians, 228.

Lokman, house of, 388, note 388.

Lombards, 248, 261.

Lombardy, 318.

4 86

INDEX

Longsword, William, 348, 349, 354, 355.

Lorrainers, 94.

Loubiya, 70.

Louis, count of Blois, 224, 234, 242, 267.

Louis, duke of Bavaria, 291.

Louis, king of France (St. Louis), 342^

314-3& 353> 357. 394> 4o, 401,

424,

arrival at Damietta, 347-348.

battle with Moslems, 349 ft stq*

birth of son, 379-381 .

castle of, 462.

death, 417.

defeat, 362, 369, 373.

Holy Land, 382.

ransomed, 374, 37^~37 8 -

rebuilds towns, 383-385,

return home, 385, 387, 388,

retreat, note 362, 367, note 368.

second crusade, 411, 416, note 416.

Lucas of the Stable, 161.

Magna Carta, 270.

Magog, 383.

Mahmoud of Ghazni, 10, 13.

Mahmoud, lord of Hamah, 19.

Mahomet, law of, 377.

Mahound, 117.

Mainz, 319.

Makrisi, note 374.

Malik Dahir (see Baibars), 405.

Malik el Dahir, son of Saladin, 181.

Malik Ric (see Richard Lion Heart).

Malik Shah, 10.

matt) 1 6.

Malta, 460.

mamfaks, 13, 29, note 364.

Mangu, 400, 402.

Mansura, battles of, 292 et seq.> 349 et

seq., note 362.

Marcaduc, 118,

Marcel, 369.

Marco Polo, 438.

Margat (see Marghab), note 327.

Marghab, Marghrab, note 17, 33*326-

327 , 416, note 420, 427, 461, note

4 6i. t

Marguerite of Provence, 342, 349, note

377> 3?8> 379> 384-387*

Marie, 224, 268.

Marie of Montserrat, 286.

Marmora Sea, 246.

Maronites, 56.

Massaif, 41, 461.

Matthew of Paris, 320, 322, 339, 441,

442.

Maudud, 24.

Mecca, 5, 7, 423.

Medina, 5, 423.

Meshtub, 106, 127, 135, 145, 174, 175.

Messina, 168.

Moab s Hills, 4 .

money, power of, 395, 459,

Mongols, 321, 322, 331, 402, 4 n, 422,

4^3> 43 6 -

battle with Moslems, 426 et seq.

dress of, 322, 399, 4 oo.

Islam, 438.

Jerusalem, 397.

Mont R6al, 58, 95, note 292.

Montfancon de Bar, 373.

Montfort, castle of, 310, 420, note 420,

463.

Moslems (Saracens etc.}, 4, 7, 153, 172,

284, 3* 1,402,^,430.

Mosul, 6 1, 89.

amir of, 400.

sultan of, 40.

Mount Carmel, 101, 149.

Mount Sion, 200.

Mount Tabor, 55, 463.

Mountain of the Cross, 385.

Muavia, 7.

Muhammed, 4, 5, note 14, 15.

Muhammedans (see Saracens, Moslems,

etc.).

Mukaddam, 43,

mulahid, 24.

Murtzuple, 255, 258, 261.

Muslimin (see Moslems), u.

nations, birth of, 394-395.

Navarre, king of, 394, 416.

Naxos, 266.

Nazarene, 4.

Nazareth, 54, 76, 291, 310, 463.

Nestorian hermits, 56,

Nicetas, 263.

Nicholas, 430.

Nicolle of Acre, 377.

Nicopolis, note 440.

Nicosia, 463.

Nienstadt, 322,

Nile, river, 7; flood, 293-294.

INDEX

487

Nizam al Mulk, 23-24, 29.

Noble Sanctuary, 14, note 14.

Nogaret, 443,451.

Normans of Sicily, 227.

Norsemen, 256.

Nur ad Din, sultan of Damascus, 75, 27,

34-35-

daughter of, 40.

death, 38.

Old Man of the Mountain (Hassan ibn

Sabah), 22, 327, 383, 399.

Omar, 8, 21.

Orontes, river in Borzia, 90.

Orsini, 276.

Otranto, 306.

Otto of Brunswick, 270, 279.

Otto of Granson, 429.

Ottomans (Othmans), 424, 440.

Ousana, 17, note 20, 41, 44.

Outremer (Beyond the Sea), 4, 50, 234,

292.

Palermo, 209, 299, 301, 456.

Palestine, 402, note 461.

Panto Krator, 260.

paper, making of, 21.

Particulars of ibn Jinni, 19.

Pastorals, 341.

Patras, 266.

Pearl Spray (see Shadjar ad Darr), 374.

Pelagius, 270, 288, 289, 290, 291, 292,

35-

People of the Book (see Christians,

crusaders, etc.), 4*

Pera, 229.

perricrS) 123.

Persia, 9, 13, 399.

Peter of Brittany, 358, 373, 377, 380.

Peter of Cyprus, note 440,

Peter of Priux, 184.

Peter the Hermit, 208.

Petit Gerin, 54.

Philip II, Augustus, 94, 114, 129, 132,

134, 141, 142, 143, l68 > 2o8 > 220 >

221, 271, 275, 286.

Philip of Marigny, 449, 451.

Philip of Montfort, 369, 381.

Philip of Swabia, 2//, 226, 228, 236,

241, 242, 270.

Philip the Fair, of France, 440, 442-443^

note 447, 44$, 4S 1 -

actions against Templars, 443 et seq,

Pilgrim Road, 58.

Pisa, 94, 209, 280.

Pisans, 163, 379, note 379.

Poitiers, 201.

Polo, Maffeo, 402.

Polo, Nicolo, 401.

Ponce d Aubon, 322.

Portugal, 459.

Prester, John, 383, 401.

Priux, Knights of, 182.

Provencals, 51.

Prussians, 228.

Ptolemy, 455-456.

Punch, 17.

quarrels, 115.

Ramlah, 76, 162, 193, 199.

Ratisbon, 340.

Rayi, 33-

Raymond, 385.

Raymond VI, count of Toulouse, 272,

^73, 274-

Raymond of Toulouse, 51, 395.

Raymond, third count of Tripoli, prince

of Galilee, 49, 57, 52, 61, 63, 64, 67.

attack on Moslems, 68-70.

death, 71,

Reformation, the, 341, 458.

Reginald of Chtillon-sur-Marne, lord

of Kerak, Arnat, 52, 58, 5p, 60,

6iy 70, note 72.

attack on Mecca, 59.

breaks truce with Saladin, 65, 67.

death, 73.

Jerusalem, 64.

war with Nur ad Din, 59.

Reginald of Sidon, 96.

Reich, 210.

Renaud of Montmirail, 243.

Renier de Maron, 161.

Rhodes, 460.

Rhodosto, 266.

Ricaldo of Monte Croce, 430.

Richard Plant agenet, Lion Heart, king

of England, 94, 114, 130, 137, 141,

142, 143, 144, I53> 154, I5 8 > l68 >

170, note 170, 176, note 177, 178,

179, 182, 183.

INDEX

Acre, 133 et seq., 182 el seg.

army, note 162.

attack on caravan, 171-172,

background, 146.

battle of Jaffa, 1 84 et seq.

characteristics, 131-132, 146-147,

195 et seq.

conference with Al Adhil, 159-160.

death, 213.

guilt of, note 164, 164.

homefaring, 201-202.

massacre, 145.

message to Saladin, 165-166,

Saladin, 144, note 159.

truce, 193-194.

war with Philip, 208.

Richard of Cornwall, 326.

River of Crocodiles, 151,

Robert, Count, 105.

Robert, count of Artois, 348-349, 353-

354, 356-357> 36o 3^.

Robert, earl of Leicester, 134, 141, 154,

169, 172, 182, 189, 190.

Robert of Clari, 267.

Rock of Calvary, 5, 47.

Rome, j>oj, 304, 317, 318, 341, 388, 402,

Church of, 395^396.

Roum, 27.

Roupen, king of Armenians, 224.

Rukn ad Din, 41.

Russia, 398.

Sabah ad Din, 203.

Safed, 91, 329, 410, 463.

Safita, 462.

Saffuriya, 53, 66, 76.

Sahara, 13.

Sahil, note 388.

Sahyoum, 90, 461.

Saida (see Sidon).

Saint Chapelle, 384.

Saint Nicholas, 387.

Sainte Michelle, 446,

Saladin (Salah ad Din), 30, note 31,

36-38, 85, 89, 92, 95, 96, TOO, 121,

122, 148, 151, 156, 157, 166, 170,

173, 177, 180, 181, 1 86, 198, 200,

201, 373, 463.

attack on Jaffa, 179 et seq.

attack on Jerusalem, 54 et seq., 77-81.

attack on Reginald, 61.

attack on Tiberias, 66.

attacked by Christians, 43.

Baha ad Din, 86-87.

battle of Hattin, 70-73.

characteristics, 31, 34, 87, i 47j 2O4 ,

note 205.

death, 204.

enmity of Ismailites, 40-41.

generosity, 40, 43, 44 .

illness, 126.

old age, 202 et seq.

plans for Holy War, 39, 43.

preparation against Christians, 95.

siege of Acre, 102 et seq., 135 et seq.

siege of Massaif, 41-42.

start of Holy War, 44.

sultan of Syria, 40.

tactics in Egypt, 35.

terms to Barbarossa, 94.

truce with crusaders, 43.

truce with Raymond, 61.

terms with Richard, 144-145.

truce with Richard, 193-194.

Turkomans and Kurds of Irak, 65.

Salisbury, bishop of, 129.

Salt River, 152.

Samarkand, 402.

palace of, 8-10.

Sancta Maura, Constantinople, 266*

Sancta Sophia, Constantinople, 243,

267.

Saracens (see Turks, Moslems, Beda-

wins, Islamites, etc.), 105.

Saxons, 250.

Saxony, 94.

Scandinavians, 133, 282.

Seljuks, 10, 400.

Sepulcher, church of, 4.

Shadjar ad Darr (Pearl Spray), ^57, 352,

note 374, 374, note 377, 388.

Shaikh al Jebal (see Old Man of the

Mountain), 24.

Shaizar, 17.

lord of, 122.

Shirkuh the Mountain Lion, 27, 29, 30.

Sibyl, 49, 63, 77, 98, 142.

Sicily, 212, 279, 299, 459.

fleet of, 94.

Sidna, note 164*

Sidon, 76, 212, 285, note 420, 462.

Silesia, duke of, 322.

Simon of Montfort, 224, 243, 274.

INDEX

489

Sinbad, 456.

Sinibaldo Fieschi (see Innocent IV),

33 6 -

Skutari, 247.

Slavonia, 235.

Slavs, 250.

Souvenirs histofiques et rtcits de chasse

paf un Imir syrien du douzieme

stick. M. Hartwig Derenbourg.

Note 120.

St. Annes, 463.

St. Augustine, 220.

St. Dominic, 273.

St. Francis of Assisi, 277, 288, 295.

St. Gilles, count of, 168.

St. Helena, 395.

St. Louis (see Louis of France), 322.

St. Paul, count of, 235, 265, 267.

Star of the Winds, 88, 91, 463.

Sudan, 423.

Sudani, 7, 40.

Sur (see Tyre).

Sutri, bishop of, 210.

Swabia, 94.

duke of, 123, 127.

Swiss, 94.

Syria, 8, 460.

castles of, 461, note 461, 462.

Syrians, note 400.

Tabor, 50.

Tajik, 7.

Taki ad Din, 34, 44, 61, 65, 71, 74, 93,

104, 106, 121, 122, 135, note 155,

156, 174,

Tamerlane, note 203.

Tancred, 131, 395.

Tanis, 29.

Tank, 6.

Tatars, note 364, 424.

Taurus, 26.

Tekedemus, note 155.

Tekon a, 176.

Templars, 51, 66, 71, 105-106, 150,

152, 153, 182, 271, 311, 328, 333,

35*> 3 8 3> 402, 409, 4io, 418, note

418-419, 432, 441, note 447, note

453, 459-

trial of, 442 et seq.

Temple, 56.

Teutons, 274.

Theodore Lascaris, 261.

Thibault of Blois, 1 20.

Thibault of Champagne, 224, 326.

Thierry of Loos, 237, 242.

Thomas a Becket, 146.

Thomas Aquinas, 392.

Thousand and One Nights, 405, note

405.

Thuringia, 94.

Tiberias, 57, 74.

castle of, 49, note 461, 463.

^sea of, 54.

Tibet, musk from, 9.

Tibnin, 76, 212.

Tigris, 7, 26.

Toledo, 456.

Toron (the Hill), 102, 169, 310, 463.

Tortosa, 89, note 461, 462, 463.

Tours, 447.

Tower of David, Jerusalem, 47, 290.

Tower of Flies, Acre, in, 123.

Tower of the Chain, Damietta, 286.

Tower of the Knights, Jerusalem,

199.

transubstantiation, note 276.

Tripoli, 88, 98, 165.

castle of, 462.

count of, 194.

fall of, 427.

Truce of God, 279.

Tubania, well of, 54.

Tunis, lord of, 416.

Turan Shah, 34, 37, 38, 44, j6j 9 374,

note 374, 375, 376.

Turbessel, 90.

Turkomans, 10, 13, 331, note 364, 399,

note 4! 8-41 9.

Turks (see Saracens, Islamites, Mos

lems, Arabs etc.), 9, 10, 109, 284,

note 364.

Turpin, archbishop, 395.

Tyre, 57, 76, 88, 99, 165, 193, 409, note

420, 462.

Uigurs, 399.

Urban II, 281, 396.

Valley of the Damned, Jerusalem, 14.

van Eyck, William, 338.

Varangians, 259, 261.

Varna, note 440.

Vaux, abbot of, 240, 242, 243.

490

INDEX

Venetians, 227, 234, note 235, 248, 253,

254, note 254, 255, 266, 280, 281,

329, 401, 408, 4 2 6.

Venice, 209, 229, 234, 393, 398,

excommunication of, 269.

gain of, 266.

treaty with French, 225.

Verona, 236.

Vienne, note 440.

Council of, 450 et seq.

Vilie-Hardouin (see Geoffrey of)*

Von tier Vogelweide, Walter, 339.

Von Hammer, note 165.

Walter of Brienne, 271, 333, 334,

Walter of Chastillon, 361.

Walter of Nemours, 381.

Watchers, 66.

Wazir, position of, 29.

Westphalia, 94,

White Slaves of the River, 355.

William, archbishop of Tyre, 53, 56,

5 8 > 59> 94, 45 6 -

William, bishop of Ely, 164.

William of Paris, 443.

William of Plaisans, 446, note 447, 453;.

William of Poiton, 168.

William of Priux, 160,

William of Sicily, 89, 133.

William of Tripoli, 404.

Wiachs, 227.

Yamen, 9, note 418-419.

yataghans , 13.

Yazdigird, palace of, 8,

Yolande, 304.

Zangi, atabeg of Mosul, 1 5.

Zante, 266.

Zara, 235, 240, note 254.

Zem-zem, sacred well, 7.

Zenobia, 9,

102 149