This is in contrast to Melisende’s younger son Amalric, who remained loyal to her in the conflict, and succeeded Baldwin III. Amalric’s succession was not undisputed and numerous oddities attended it. He was required to separate from his wife Agnes of Courtenay on the grounds they were too nearly related and he had not received the appropriate dispensation when they married in 1157, a condition that must have come from the Patriarch and suggests clerical opposition. However, their two children Sibylla and Baldwin were confirmed in their legitimacy, and Amalric had another daughter, Isabelle, from his second marriage. Amalric was then crowned ‘suddenly’ in the words of William of Tyre, as though his accession had to be pushed through against opposition. Nevertheless Amalric was also a fairly successful king, although his reign witnessed a new and fatal preoccupation with the conquest of Egypt, which had descended into chaos.76
Nur ed-Din was not idle while his enemies were distracted, and he continued to put pressure on the rulers of Damascus. This led to the Damascene alliance with the Christians being renewed, which simply alienated the ordinary citizens of the city. Nur ed-Din arrived before Damascus in 1154 prepared to begin a siege, but instead the city was delivered to him by residents who preferred to submit to his rule. He responded by promoting Sunni institutions like schools, mosques and courts and was swiftly recognized in the region as the model Muslim ruler, valiant in war and wise in peace. By creating a united Syria he also posed the gravest threat to the Crusader States yet seen.
One consequence of the great respect Nur ed-Din inspired in the Muslim world was that refugees from more chaotic regions sought his help. In 1163, after yet another vicious series of coups in Egypt, the losing claimant fled to Nur ed-Din and requested his intervention. Nur ed-Din had previously been reluctant to intervene in Egyptian affairs, but now Amalric invaded Egypt to take advantage of the chaos, and though his attack failed, Nur ed-Din must have feared an extension of Christian power into Egypt. One of Nur ed-Din’s most trusted vassals, Shirkuh, requested permission to launch an Egyptian expedition. Shirkuh was allowed to proceed, and may already have had in mind the creation of an independent Egyptian state for himself and his family.77 Shirkuh’s force, which included his nephew Saladin of whom we will hear so much shortly, occupied Egypt, provoking a response from Amalric.
Amalric, who had now married Maria Comnena, the great-niece of the Byzantine Emperor, and established what he thought would be an irresistible alliance, tried to conquer Egypt in 1168. Shirkuh repulsed Amalric’s attack, and in his position as the defender of the country definitively seized Egypt for himself. Shirkuh was fairly old by this point and died a few weeks later, leaving Saladin as the ruler of Egypt.78
Discussions of the Crusader States involve figures like Nur ed-Din, Saladin (or Saleh ed-Din, in its original form) and many others not mentioned here like Asad ed-Din, Shams ed-Din and Usul ed-Din, so it is worth a quick comment about their names. In fact, these are not names but Arabic titles. The ‘ed-Din’ portion means ‘of the faith’ and is preceded by various poetic terms – Nur ed-Din means ‘light of the faith’, Asad ed-Din means ‘lion of the faith’, Shams ed-Din ‘sun of the faith’, Usul ed-Din ‘pillar of the faith’ and Saleh ed-Din ‘righteousness of the faith’. This was a popular naming convention throughout the period, but only Saleh ed-Din became sufficiently famous to have had his title absorbed into Western culture today as Saladin.
As these were titles, all these rulers had personal and family names as well. Saladin’s name was Yusuf, and in the Arabic style he was also known as the ‘son of Ayub’. Ayub had been a trusted lieutenant of Nur ed-Din like his brother Shirkuh, and he joined Saladin in Egypt after the conquest. Saladin and his family’s success in conquering Egypt, Yemen and Jerusalem led to a relatively short-lived dynasty that is referred to as ‘Ayubbid’.
It is a commonplace of Crusader history to attribute the success of the First Crusade partially to the disunity of the Muslim world in the late 11th century, and then trace the rise of increasingly powerful Muslim rulers – Zengi, Nur ed-Din and Saladin – who united the region and reconquered most of the Crusader States. The progression usually also leads, either implicitly or explicitly, from Zengi, the local strongman who was murdered when drunk, to Nur ed-Din, a military hero and model of piety who inspired respect, culminating with Saladin, the legendary hero, Islamic scholar, paragon of chivalry and conqueror of Jerusalem.
Yet it is a mistake to assume that the Muslim world was inherently any more or less religious than the Christian, or that Muslim rulers as a group were any more or less eager to put aside their personal ambitions for religious reasons. When Nur ed-Din rose to power, Damascus, rather than throwing open its gates to him as a willing participant in a grand Muslim alliance, instead allied with the Christian King of Jerusalem to preserve its independence. Similarly, when Saladin took control of Egypt, tension immediately arose between him and Nur ed-Din precisely because Saladin was more interested in creating an Ayubbid state than joining Nur ed-Din to attack the Crusader States.
Saladin’s actions in Egypt were unequivocally dynastic. After restoring Egypt to the obedience of the Sunni caliph in Baghdad (who was conveniently remote), Saladin initiated military expeditions into Libya, Nubia and, most significantly, Yemen, where his brother Turan Shah conquered the region and set up another Ayubbid state. What Saladin did not do was attack the Crusader States. He participated in a few desultory campaigns against them in conjunction with Nur ed-Din, but each time he broke off operations on the basis that Egypt was still too insecure for him to remain absent. Relations between Nur ed-Din and Saladin deteriorated to the point where armed conflict seemed inevitable, but Nur ed-Din’s death in May 1174 spared Saladin this unpleasantness.79
Nur ed-Din was notable as the figure who united Syria and, more importantly, showed the power that could be unleashed if a strong military leader was also a respected religious figure. He was certainly known and respected by Christians not only in the Holy Land, but even in France: in Yvain, Chrétien de Troyes has Kay mock other knights by saying that when they are full of food and wine ‘each one is ready to slay Nor-adin’.80
Nur ed-Din’s death might have been welcomed by the Christians, but two months later Amalric died, leaving as king his thirteen-year-old son Baldwin IV. Worse, after his coronation it became clear that Baldwin had leprosy. The court quickly dissolved into factions, including one joined by the ubiquitous Lusignan brothers Aimery and Guy, who had been expelled from Poitou by Richard the Lionheart and were seeking their fortune in Outremer, with a success beyond their wildest dreams. Baldwin was unable to marry, so his sister Sibylla was now the focus of courtly intrigue. Sibylla had been married to William Marquis of Montferrat, but he had died leaving her with a posthumous son, the future Baldwin V.
With all major power brokers in the Holy Land, and many from elsewhere, putting forward candidates as Sibylla’s new husband, Baldwin IV feared he would be deposed, and decided to act decisively by marrying her to Guy of Lusignan. Guy quickly became one of the most powerful figures in the kingdom, and when Baldwin’s health deteriorated in 1183, Guy became regent, although he subsequently fell out with Baldwin and was removed from power. When Baldwin IV died in 1185 and the child Baldwin V died in 1186, the kingdom was thrown into crisis. The factions divided between Sibylla and Guy on one hand, and Isabelle, the daughter of Amalric and Maria Comnena, on the other. Sibylla was victorious, and after being crowned Queen of Jerusalem, she herself crowned Guy as king.81
In comparison with the chaotic situation in Jerusalem, Saladin had smoothly consolidated his authority after Nur ed-Din’s death. He occupied Damascus in 1174 and married Nur ed-Din’s widow in 1176, achieving recognition from the caliph in Baghdad as the ruler of Egypt and Syria. In 1176 another event favourable to Saladin took place, when the army of the Byzantine Emperor Manuel Comnenus was annihilated by the Seljuk Turks, and all of Anatolia fell to them. The Crusader States were now completely encircled by Muslim states at a time when th
ey lacked strong leadership.
Aleppo and Mosul remained in the hands of Nur ed-Din’s family, and Saladin directed his energy against them for the next ten years, further proving that the Muslim states were not monolithic and quite happy to fight against each other. This gave the Crusader States a brief breathing space during the political turmoil of Baldwin IV’s reign, but Saladin inexorably expanded his power, taking Aleppo in 1183 and allying with the Seljuks to bring Mosul into his political orbit by 1185. By 1187 he was ready to achieve his stated goal of retaking Jerusalem.82
After being provoked by Christian attacks on pilgrims travelling to Mecca and a raid on the coast of the Red Sea, Saladin gathered a large army from all his possessions and invaded the kingdom of Jerusalem. Guy of Lusignan managed to unite the Franks and raise a large force in response, and took the field to oppose him. The only sensible strategy would seem to be for the Christians to avoid a pitched battle and shadow Saladin’s force to minimize the damage it could do, until it inevitably broke up under the pressures faced by armies in all pre-industrial societies. In this respect, Guy had an advantage, precisely because Jerusalem was an embattled outpost with a relatively small Christian population; this meant his much smaller army was essentially professional, so if he could avoid a battle it could hold together longer than Saladin’s essentially feudal force. Saladin knew this and wanted to draw the Franks into battle, and contrary to the seemingly obvious delaying strategy, Guy marched through the arid Galilean hills to attack.
One of the reasons for Guy’s decision may have been related to, of all things, the murder of Thomas Becket. Since Becket’s murder in 1172 Henry II had transferred considerable sums to the Templars and Hospitallers, which he planned to use in a projected Crusade. However, Henry was clear that this money was not a gift and was to be kept for him until he used it or took it back, so none of it could be spent without his permission. In 1187 the Master of the Templars had used these funds to hire mercenaries for the army against Saladin, and it is possible that he and Guy were forced to seek an outright victory or face the disgrace of having stolen Henry II’s money.83
In the end, they faced a much worse fate. The army only managed to reach the two hills known as the Horns of Hattin before being surrounded by the Muslim forces. Guy and his army were trapped on the hills without water, and were forced on 4 July 1187 to attack and try to break free. With few exceptions, the Christian army was killed or captured by Saladin’s forces, leaving no one to protect the Crusader States. Saladin famously treated most of his captives kindly, courteously offering Guy a cool drink after the battle, but pointedly executing the Templars.84
This was a catastrophe for the Crusader States. Saladin was virtually unopposed as he took one town after another, and Jerusalem fell on 2 October. Only Tyre, Tripoli and Antioch remained of the Crusader States. If Becket’s death had shocked Europe, the loss of Jerusalem was worse, as it produced an effect equal and opposite to that which had greeted the success of the First Crusade nearly a century before.
Henry II’s Final Years: ‘Shame on a Conquered King’
A new Crusade was obviously required. Preachers began to cross Europe, some using visual aids showing a Saracen knight trampling on Christ’s tomb and crying out over the shame of this violation.85 Richard the Lionheart was the first prince north of the Alps to take the cross, and Henry II and Philip Augustus joined him, though Philip had already expressed his dissatisfaction that Richard was going on Crusade without having married his sister Alice. This ongoing conflict would be resolved in a quite unexpected way once the Crusade started.
Richard was also suspicious of Henry’s motives, not least because John had not taken the cross and there was a nagging suspicion that Henry might try to make John his heir to England, Normandy and Anjou. Henry was unwilling or unable to reassure Richard on this point and, if the story is true, still faithful to his mother’s advice to tease the hawk rather than let it eat. Henry even refused to confirm Richard as his heir. This proved to be his fatal mistake, because Richard was too forceful a character to tolerate this. Furthermore, Richard’s attempt to forge a feudal relationship with Philip that did not involve his father had been successful.
Skirmishing broke out in the borderlands between the Angevin Empire and France, with each side occupying territory claimed by the other or its allies. Philip made various offers to end the strife, but Henry and Richard, now with diverging interests, could not agree. Richard then approached Philip directly again and offered to have the dispute judged by the French court, a step that would mark the final break with his father. A new peace conference was arranged at Bonsmoulins in November 1188, but Henry II was shocked to find that Richard and Philip arrived together. Philip offered to return all the lands he had taken if Richard married Alice and Henry recognized Richard as his heir. Henry naturally refused to accept any interference from Philip in the way he managed his kingdom, but Richard now demanded that Henry publicly recognize him as his heir. When Henry once again refused to speak, Richard reportedly said, ‘Now at last I must believe what I had always thought was impossible.’86
Richard was now committed to taking the inheritance his father seemed unwilling to give him. He immediately performed homage to Philip for all the lands he held in Aquitaine, as well as Normandy, Anjou and Maine. Although a truce was agreed, Henry, Richard and Philip all began to prepare for war. When Henry held his Christmas court at Saumur many stayed away, preferring to pin their hopes on Richard. Henry fell ill and failed to attend a peace conference in January 1189, but his enemies believed he was stalling and proceeded to ravage his lands.
These continuing delays to the Crusade irritated the pope, who sent a legate to arrange another conference so the dispute could be judged by a panel of archbishops. When the meeting finally convened at La Ferté-Bernard near Le Mans, Philip and Richard had a list of demands: Richard must be allowed to marry Alice; Richard must be recognized as heir; and, most importantly, John must take the cross, as Richard refused to go on Crusade unless John went with him. Henry still refused, and the legate threatened to place France under an interdict unless Philip came to terms. Philip remained unmoved and the conference ended without result.87
Henry returned to Le Mans, but Philip and Richard suddenly attacked the castles of Maine and quickly captured part of the county, then marched on Le Mans itself. Henry, now in his last illness, retreated towards Normandy, but Richard pursued him and caught up with his rearguard, commanded by William Marshal. William later delighted in telling the story that when Richard, who had left his armour behind for the long ride, came up to threaten the king’s men, William turned and rode straight at him with his lance lowered. Richard suddenly understood his danger: ‘“God’s feet, marshal!” cried Richard with his wonted oath, “slay me not! I have no hauberk.” “Slay you! no; I leave that to the devil,” retorted William, plunging his spear into the horse’s body instead of the rider’s.’ Richard was left in the dust while Henry escaped.88
Henry now seemed to understand that he was dying, and he suddenly turned back to Anjou to die in his homeland. He went to Chinon with a few retainers and did nothing while Richard and Philip overran Maine, and Tours fell on 3 July 1189. With this proof that all was lost, Henry dragged himself to a last meeting with his son and Philip, who dictated severe terms including an indemnity of 20,000 marks, a requirement that all Henry’s vassals in England and the continent must swear allegiance to Richard and a condition that if Henry did not appear at Vézelay to start the Crusade by Lent 1190, all his vassals were to transfer their allegiance solely to Philip and Richard. Henry had no choice but to agree, but Gerald of Wales reports that when Henry was required to give Richard the kiss of peace to ratify the agreement, he whispered in his son’s ear, ‘May I only be suffered to live long enough to take vengeance upon thee as thou deservest!’89 It was not to be.
Henry was carried back to Chinon in a litter and died two days later, deserted by everyone except his bastard son Geoffrey. His tragic
death excited much commentary among contemporaries, and all chose to dwell on the fact that the once strongest ruler of Europe was brought low by his son – the biblical story of David and Absalom was frequently invoked – and died alone and friendless, thus forming the perfect example of how God could humble the mightiest. John’s role in the crisis gives an early indication of his character: despite the fact that his father’s difficulties were in large part due to his desire to provide for John, once it became clear who would win the conflict John deserted his father and joined Richard. The news that John had betrayed him was said to have caused Henry’s death; when he saw John’s name on a list of rebels, he was said to have cried, ‘Is it true that John, my heart, John, whom I loved more than all my sons, and for whose gain I suffered all these evils, has forsaken me?’ Then he turned to the wall and fell into a coma, dying the next day. This sounds like later commentary, but in a more realistic version, Henry’s last words are given as, ‘Shame, shame on a conquered king.’90
Henry’s body was carried to Fontevraud, where Richard went to see it. Roger of Howden claimed that when Richard entered the room, Henry’s body bled from the nose ‘as though his spirit was angered by his approach’, one of the earliest references to the idea that a body bleeds if its murderer approaches. This was a popular idea at the time, because it is also recorded by Chrétien de Troyes in his nearly contemporary romance Yvain, which is the first literary reference to the legend. There was certainly a feeling that Richard had caused his father’s death, and whether through guilt or simply to show proper respect to his own lineage, Henry seems to have been the first king to be buried in his royal regalia.91 His effigy at Fontevraud lies alongside those of Eleanor of Aquitaine and Richard himself, displaying an Angevin harmony in death that was decidedly lacking in life.
Angevin Dynasties of Europe 900-1500 Page 18
