The global balance of power may well have been the reason why the treaty, which was condemned by both Christian and Muslim contemporary chroniclers because of its religious connotations, was kept for its whole ten-year duration, despite the criticism voiced in both camps.
To this point, we have looked at peacemaking efforts through the prism of the shifting balance of power between the adversaries over the two-century period of Holy War in the Latin East and the impact of economic and political factors, both local and international. It remains to examine the verbal and nonverbal means the parties to the conflict employed to bridge their cultural differences and reach agreements.
Diplomacy
Note, at the outset, the differing conceptions in the Muslim and Christian camps.
For the Muslims, negotiations were usually carried out by sending delegates to the enemy camp. For the Christians, the accepted mode of negotiating peace often took place at the highest levels, between the leaders themselves.51 The need to overcome the cultural gap between the parties enhanced the culture-bridging role played by diplomats, and the emergence of a class of diplomats with special privileges and safeguards comprises an important aspect of peacemaking in the Latin East. From the first encounters between the enemies, and until their conclusion, emissaries played a prominent part in preventing hostilities and achieving agreements. The initiation of negotiations by sending delegates to the enemy camp presupposed a state of immunity, like the Muslim aman. This safe-conduct was essential, and although it could often be a risky business to bring tidings or offers to the other side, the envoys usually returned to their own camp unscathed.
In the initial stages of drawing up an agreement, emissaries from each side engaged in preparatory talks, whose outcome often depended on their talents. In this case, too, there existed longstanding traditions of polyglot, skilled diplomats passing between the Muslim and Christian camps, some of them former captives, who learned the language and mores of the antagonist while in captivity; these 238
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could be either Christians or Muslims, depending on the circumstances. In the East emissaries were usually chosen from among persons with connections to the ruling elite, at times even members of the royal family. Thus the mediator became a kind of hostage, protected by the safe-conduct granted by the enemy and the assumption that the monarch who dispatched him would consider any injury to him a great loss. Therefore, by its very nature, engaging in a diplomatic mission was indirectly a sign of trust in the enemy who was being approached.
Moreover, the emissary’s rank also played a role in negotiations. Sending someone of high rank was a sign of honour; whereas sending somebody of lower rank could be seen as an insult. Perhaps the crusaders in Antioch thought Peter the Hermit a suitable envoy to Kerbogha of Mosul, who was laying siege to the city in 1098, along with the addition of Herluin as a translator. But a shabby hermit did not fit the other party’s expectations. Notwithstanding Peter’s report to the army that he had offered Kerbogha the option of converting to Christianity, which sounds very doubtful, his appearance alone was probably enough to persuade Kerbogha to refuse any offer.52 Perhaps his real mission was to suggest a trial by battle with twenty soldiers instead of a total war, or to discuss possible surrender, but it seems in this case that the cultural, rather than the linguistic, gap was the problem.53 Not surprisingly, the mission failed.
When Shirkuh, Saladin’s uncle, wanted to use his captive, Hugh of Caesarea, as a diplomat to Amalric, he described the prerequisites for a mediator: You are a great prince of high rank [ nobilis] and much influence
[ clarissimus] among your own people, nor is there any one of your barons to whom, if free choice were offered me, I would prefer to communicate this secret of mine and make my confidant . . . you are a man of high rank
[ homo nobilis es], as I have said, dear to the king and influential in both word and deed, be the mediator of peace between us.54
This flattering description was reported by Hugh himself, who was worried that as a former captive his own people might be suspicious that he ‘was more interested in obtaining his own liberty than concerned for the public welfare’. He therefore preferred that another captive, Arnulf of Turbessel, take this task upon himself; however, Hugh joined him for the later stages of negotiations and ‘put the final touches’ to the treaty.55
As one function of the diplomat could also be to identify potential weaknesses in the opposing side during his mission, astuteness in spying out trends in the enemy camp played a role in his selection. Prominent diplomats like Saladin’s brother al-Adil (Saphadin in Western sources) and the qadi Fahr-a-Din, who negotiated with Frederick II on behalf of al-Kamil, cultivated friendly relationships with the opposing side. A diplomat’s political judgement was taken into account, and his influence certainly surpassed that of a simple message bearer. Polyglot abilities were an advantage, but not a prerequisite. The envoy’s status and diplomatic skill and knowledge counted for more.
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A well-known instance of the extent to which diplomats could influence the pact-making process is the part played by al-Adil, Hubert Walter, Bishop of Salisbury, and Henry of Champagne (Richard’s relative) in the negotiations between Saladin and Richard I in August 1192. We may well disregard the tearful speech of love and admiration attributed to al-Adil by Richard of Devizes, as well as his chronology, but his description of the secret agreement reached without the sick king’s knowledge rings true in having al-Adil promise, ‘I shall arrange with my brother either for a perpetual peace for you, or at the least for a firm and lasting truce.’56 The king’s sudden recovery placed his ministers in a shaky position, as they had already arranged the treaty terms with al-Adil. Unaware of this agreement, Richard tried to organize an offensive while Hubert Walter and Count Henry did their best to sabotage mobilization of the army.57 When failure made the king willing to negotiate, this provided the opening the negotiators needed.
To their surprise, or so they claimed, they found that al-Adil, who was supposed to be in Jerusalem with Saladin, was in fact near by. Instructed by his colleagues on how to speak to Richard, al-Adil obtained a temporary truce ratified by the giving of hands and returned to his brother to arrange his part of the plot.
Baha al-Din’s description of the same encounter proves that al-Adil’s sudden appearance was no chance occurrence; he was in fact waiting to be summoned.
The Itinerarium peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi knows nothing of the devious part played by the mediators but agrees that the truce initiative came from the crusader side and that the king was presented with a written document of a truce obtained by al-Adil: ‘The terms were recorded in writing and read out to King Richard, who approved them’, presented there as the best terms for which Richard could have hoped.58
The important role of the diplomats finds corroboration in Baha al-Din’s detailed record of the same events. He noted that Richard was presented with a written draft of the truce as a fait accompli and referred the finishing touches, including some cardinal terms, to Henry and ‘the others’.59 Baha al-Din mentions that there was a delay in the oath-taking ceremony, attributed to the fact that the Christians ‘do not take an oath after eating’, and that they had already eaten that day. This too may have been the diplomats’ invention and a way of gaining time to convince Richard. The mediators were apparently successful in setting international policy behind the backs of the rulers who had sent them to negotiate in their name. Thus the messengers who were only supposed to go between the camps grew in importance and became independent policy-makers, using the power bestowed by their connections with the other side.
According to Baha al-Din, Richard had suggested a personal meeting with Saladin to discuss peace terms back in November 1191. Saladin refused, making the counter-proposal that he and Richard should send envoys instead. Although his explanation that it was unseemly for kings to fight after having met, and that the
terms ought to be settled by interpreters and messengers before such a meeting could take place, may have been a prevarication to gain time, it also exemplifies the above-mentioned difference in the diplomatic traditions of the two 240
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sides.60 Richard met Philip August for direct negotiations and treaty-making at Messina in March 1191,61 and a similar meeting took place between Gaillon and Le Vaudreuil in January 1196.62 Messengers were not unknown in the West but, apparently, relying on a long tradition of inter-religious diplomacy, the role of diplomats was more prominent in the East. In fact, Richard and Saladin never met except on the battlefield as commanders who did not really meet face-to-face, and it was their diplomats who finally made the treaty between them. Illustrations showing them fighting a duel belong to the realm of myth, not history.63
Gestures of conciliation
Another noteworthy aspect of the peacemaking encounters between enemies in the Latin East belongs to the nonverbal realm – gesture and ceremony. Some historians attribute the importance of gestures in the Middle Ages to the weakness of literacy in medieval societies. On the one hand, medieval culture greatly emphasized writing and reading because they were rare and used to spread Scripture; on the other, gestures publicly transmitted political and religious power and endowed legal actions with a living image. Gestures bound together human wills and bodies.64 This was true for both societies, but the encounter between them emphasized the need for gestures that could be immediately understood and seen by all. In its stress on visual images through television and the internet, modern culture may be closer to the medieval perception of the importance of body language and political rituals than former generations.65 Set conventions and conciliatory gestures were part of the cultural mechanisms that facilitated peacemaking, or prevented it in the cases where gestures were misunderstood by one of the sides. For effective, fruitful negotiations, a common cultural language had to be found. Some of these gestures of conciliation were learned by acculturation and became a common language; others remained specific to one of the sides and were never transmitted, whereas some were imposed on one side by the other, thus becoming part of the language of power.
Potentially, there could be several stages of peacemaking, each accompanied by its characteristic gestures. Thus, the capitulation of a city was signified by flying the conqueror’s banner. This gesture occurred in the early encounters between the enemies and was presumably known to both sides. But how did the losing side obtain the banner? This presupposes the holding of some negotiations at an earlier time. These negotiations are usually not spelled out in the chroniclers’ descriptions, perhaps because they were often carried out secretly, whereas the official submission had to be done publicly, for all to see. Nor did the problems end there.
As each military leader had his own banner, it was important to know whose banner to fly in order to avoid becoming the victim of internal rifts in the victors’
camp. Thus the anonymous Gesta Francorum claims that both Raymond of St Giles’s and Bohemond’s banners were flown at Antioch.66 At Tarsus the rivalry between Tancred and Baldwin over the city’s capitulation, which surrendered by flying Tancred’s banner in 1097, ended in bloodshed.67 And in August 1099
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crusader rivalry at the siege of Ascalon saved the city from surrender. Richard the Lionheart’s tactless behaviour in flying his banner at Acre after its surrender did not alter the city’s fate, but marred his relations with his partners during and after the Third Crusade.68 William of Tyre mentions signs given by the inhabitants of a conquered city spelling out their willingness to convert, but he does not explain what those signs were.69
Another self-explanatory gesture understood by both sides was presenting the victor with the key to the city. This is shown in illustrations such as that in the fourteenth-century Grandes chroniques de France, where the surrender of Acre to Philip Augustus and Richard I of England in 1191 is depicted by the offering of a disproportionately large key to the monarchs.70 Muslim sources recognized a similar significance in the transfer of keys. The chronicler al-Yunini (1242–1326) described the capitulation of Crac des Chevaliers to Baybars in 1271: ‘when Hisn al-Akrad [Crac des Chevaliers] was captured, the lord of Antartus (which belonged to the Templars) wrote to al-Malik al-Zahir [Baybars] to request the making of a truce and sent to him its keys’.71 This was a symbolic gesture, as the lack of keys did not usually prevent the victorious army from entering the city.
The letter to Baybars presumably included the request for a truce and its proposed terms, but the keys were the gesture of surrender.
The long list of cities that entered into treaties with the crusaders during the first years of their rule in the Levant, paying tribute and often retaining their former leaders as dependants of the new ruler, presupposes the holding of negotiations about which most chroniclers remain silent. It seems logical to assume that the vanquished side presented terms of capitulation, both because this was the usual practice in the East before the crusaders’ arrival, and because it would be easier for the victorious crusaders just to accept the favourable terms that had been suggested than to negotiate in line with terms unknown in the East.72 That perhaps explains the continuation of Eastern practices between the victor and the vanquished in the East, such as tribute, gifts and the like.
Just as we do not know exactly how the actual fighting on the battlefield ended, except in cases where the enemy was butchered to total extinction, it is not entirely clear what signalled a ceasefire. Elsewhere, I have shown that by 1150 there existed a gesture apparently known to both sides, namely the laying down of arms and clasping the hands, first on one side, then on the other. This is not the same as the modern gesture of capitulation by raising both hands, which signifies inferiority and even humiliation, albeit both gestures share the laying down of weapons as a first step. As opposed to the modern gesture, William of Tyre views the medieval gesture as showing reverence between military leaders and signalling a willingness to stop fighting, but not humiliation.73 In 1150 the protagonists knew each other beforehand from earlier diplomatic missions and the gesture served as the sign to end fighting and start negotiating. Other Eastern gestures were ineffectual when dealing with a Western Christian army. Thus, at the Battle of Ascalon, the vanquished Egyptians ‘threw themselves flat on the ground, not daring to stand against us, so our men slaughtered them as one slaughters beasts 242
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in a shambles’.74 Neither this gesture nor grasping the victor’s leg to beg for mercy evoked any pity in crusader hearts, and the chroniclers make no apologies for killing the vanquished enemy.75 At the Battle of Dorylaeum (July 1097) the Christian women employed a different gesture of surrender (women were not supposed to be on the battlefield but, during the First Crusade at least, the difference between soldiers and noncombatants was blurred):
Stunned and terrified by the cruelty of the most hideous killings, girls who were delicate and very nobly born were hastening to get themselves dressed up, they were offering themselves to the Turks so that at least, roused and appeased by love of their beautiful appearance, the Turks might learn to pity their prisoners.76
In contrast, the crusaders prided themselves on killing, but not raping, enemy women: ‘In regard to the women found in the tents of the foe [Antioch 1098], the Franks did them no evil but drove lances into their bellies.’77 The Muslim chronicler Imad al-Din al-Isfahâni clearly saw the conquest of women as part of victory and did not spare the reader any descriptive details of their fate.78 In this case, as in many others, the enemies had distinct cultural languages of war and peace; the vanquished had to learn the nuances of the other’s nonverbal language quickly in order to save their lives.
The conclusion of the actual battle was followed by the stage of initiating negotiations. One gesture involved was that of bowing. Bowing before the ruler is a liminal gesture: a means of introduction that brid
ges the gap of the unknown at a first meeting between sides.79 The lower the bow, the greater the humility shown. Koziol classifies bowing as a ‘natural’ gesture and therefore familiar to both sides:
To place oneself beneath another person is clearly a sign of inferiority.
Indeed this meaning is so widespread among social mammals that one
wonders if it does not have some common source, perhaps in their
perception of space or in the reinforcement of dependent, infantile
behavior. Nevertheless, the kind of inferiority a prostration represents is not inherent in the physical act. Still less does the act convey any information about the world. They are explained in the cultural framework through their analogies with similar liturgical gestures (as one knelt before God or saints).80
The only exception to this ranking according to height was the seated ruler: by standing before him, the messengers or captives showed deference, and the ruler’s immobility was a sign of his exalted position even though the standing petitioner was higher.
As Koziol has shown in detail for the West, there was a difference between a slight bow, kneeling on one knee or two, and the full-length prostration of a rebel 243
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