‘or my section will not ride at all.’
‘Then you are a coward, Burgundy, and I shall proclaim you as such.’
‘And you, my lord King, are an altar of vanity. No proclamation is needed. It is common knowledge.’
An hour later the army had stood down, and all plans for an immediate advance were set aside.
* * *
They trotted abreast, King Richard, Robert of Breteuil, William des Barres, Balian and Humphrey. They had left the road some time ago and now moved across a range of undulating hills, populated by scrawny black goats and ridgeback pigs. Arab goatherds stood impassive, watching the metal men rise up, pass over the crest of a hill, then sink again below the skyline.
After a while the Crusaders saw Saracen horsemen, but the Ramieh were a dozen hills away and kept their distance. Robert suggested they turn back before they found themselves within arrow-range of the enemy, but Richard waved him down and they continued their aimless patrol.
Before long they had removed their helmets, pulled their hands free of their mail mittens and hung their shields from their saddles. They resembled not so much Crusaders at war, as neighbours inspecting some newly acquired fief. Richard changed direction for the twentieth time, and Humphrey glanced across at Balian.
‘If I’m right,’ he said, ‘we are heading for—’
‘I know.’
‘Do you think the king knows?’
‘If not, he’ll soon find out.’ He spurred his horse, and the Lords of Nablus and Toron moved ahead of the others. They descended into the next valley, urged their mounts up the opposite slope and reined-in, silhouetted on the crest of the hill. Ahead of them lay Jerusalem.
They gazed at the distant minarets, at the domes and rooftops, the orchards and gardens, at the trees on the Mount of Olives and at the high grey walls that encompassed the city. They could see the golden Dome of the Rock and the el-Aqsa mosque in the Temple enclosure, and, in the western wall, the Jaffa Gate and the Tower of David. What they could not see they imagined they could see: Gethsemane, Via Dolorosa, the Grain market, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Royal Palace.
Unable to contain his excitement, Humphrey turned and shouted into the valley, ‘My lord King! My lord of Leicester! Sir William! Come and see! We have Jerusalem in sight!’ Robert and William charged the hill. Neither of them had set eyes on Jerusalem until now. Humphrey guided them, using his sword as a pointer. ‘You see there, just beyond Tancred’s Tower? That’s the Hospice of St John, headquarters of the Hospitallers. And away to the right—
Balian said, ‘Where is the king?’
They swung round together. Richard was still in the valley. His face was streaked with tears.
‘My lord King? Will you not see this?’
In a low, lifeless voice he answered, ‘No, messires, I will not. I don’t care to view something I cannot have.’
It was the first time they had heard him make such an admission. It sent a chill through them, for they knew that if Richard Cœur-de-Lion could not take the city, it might never be taken.
Chapter Seventeen
Jaffa
July 1192
The Crusading army had lost all momentum. It was reported that, far from abandoning Jerusalem, the Saracens were strengthening it with fresh outer-works. The French continued to advocate an all-out attack on the city. Richard – plagued by letters from England, imploring him to return – was convinced that such an attack would fail, and he began to doubt the wisdom of remaining at Betenoble. Saladin’s Egyptian army was said to be moving in the direction of Ramleh and Lydda. If that was so, the Frankish supply lines could be cut, and the army trapped among ruined buildings and blackened fields.
They were too weak to go forward. They were too isolated to remain where they were. He put the problem to his barons and, on 4th July, the Crusaders began the withdrawal from Betenoble.
Ironically, the Saracen army was also demoralized and riven with dissent. Their usually reliable spies had exaggerated the size of the Christian force, and Saladin feared an imminent assault on Jerusalem. He thought it advisable to leave the city and re-form between Jericho and the Jordan River, but he was still debating the issue with his emirs when they heard that the Unbelievers were in retreat…
* * *
For a few days in mid-July, the refortified city of Jaffa housed King Richard, King Henry, Queen Berengaria, Queen Isabella, Queen Joanna and the Dowager Queen Maria. Richard was en route for Acre, a fresh project in mind. He had decided to launch a surprise attack against the Moslem-held city of Beirut. In this way he hoped to draw at least one of the Saracen armies away from Jerusalem. If that could be done, the Crusaders would be put aboard a fleet of waiting galleys and transported south again, ready for an eastward strike against the Holy City. The women were advised to pack their things and follow the army to Acre, where they would remain until they were summoned to Christian Jerusalem.
That was the plan and when Saladin heard of it he stole it wholesale. He had no intention of allowing the Infidels to lay siege to Beirut, nor to decoy his war-weary troops. The best way to prevent it, he reasoned, was to play them at their own game. He allowed the Crusaders to reach Acre, then led twenty thousand men to the walls of Jaffa. At the time he did not know that the four Frankish queens were still within the city.
* * *
The guards patrolled in pairs, two pairs to each of the four main walls. On the east wall, one pair moved from the south-east tower to the tower above the central gate, called the Jerusalem Gate, while a second pair came towards them from the north-east corner. As usual, the four men mounted the steps above the Jerusalem Gate and stood talking for a moment, blowing the pre-dawn chill from their cramped fingers. The guard sergeant toured the walls every hour, but so long as he did not catch his men asleep, or with a wine flask in their fists, he kept to his routine. Over on the west wall, he had come upon two of the guards playing dice, and they were now subjected to surprise visits. Their task, he had reminded them, was to watch for Saracen hutas, or Christian galleys, not the spots on an ivory cube. It was their first offence, so they had been fined a month’s pay. Next time they would be whipped through the streets of Jaffa. If there was a third occasion, they would be hanged.
Glad that the sergeant’s wrath had been directed elsewhere, the guards on the east wall approached the central tower, felt their way up the unlit steps and continued their conversation. It had been like this throughout the watch; a few moments respite in the Jerusalem Tower, then the long, cold walk along the walls, the turnabout at the corners of the city, the return and a few more exchanges about life and women, the course of the war and women, the vile local wine and women.
‘That Isabella, now there’s a prime piece. Two husbands, and who knows how many—’
‘Shut your mouth! You never got a woman yet you didn t have to pay for. You’re not one to talk about queens.’
‘The devil with queens, friend. Maria’s a footfall from sixty, and Berengaria’s a passive bundle. As for Joanna—
‘I agree with him. Stay shut about it.’
‘If you don’t want to hear my views—’
‘We don’t. You’re on the wrong level. Whores are your speciality.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Whores? Now-don’t-tell-me-you’ve-never-heard-of—’
‘No, out there, what’s that?’
The sky had lightened a little. It was not yet dawn, though they could discern the outline of—
‘Trees? Are they trees?’
‘Why not? That’s where the orchard—’
‘I saw something move. Oh my Jesus Sweet Son of God, look at that!’
There were men among the olive trees, and among the date palms, and among the ruined huts and stables beyond the wall. The guards threw themselves below the merlons of the tower. They stared at each other, aghast.
‘The ground’s crawling with them! How could they have got so close? How could they get so close!’
/> ‘Those trees – They’re damned catapults! They’ve brought their machines with them.’
‘How could they have got so close?’
‘Sound the bell.’
‘You’re nearest, you sound it.’ With that the guard scuttled across to the outer steps and slithered down, flat on his back, to the wooden tripod that supported the alarm bell. Lying so that only one arm was exposed above the battlements, he curled his fingers around the rim of the bell and pushed it away. It clanged once, then again, then caught the rhythm and swung back and forward, tolling the alarm. Other bells answered from the north and south walls, from inside the main gate, from the city squares. Jaffa awoke to a discordant carillon. They knew it was no practice alert. Practices were held at noon. This was reality.
In the north-east tower, Maria threw a cloak around her shoulders and hurried to the nearest arrow-loop. She leaned into the triangular recess and gazed at the empty plain to the north. Nothing out there. On the other side of the room Isabella murmured and came awake.
‘Mother? You’re up early. What is it?’
‘I think we’re under threat of attack.’
Without another word Isabella slipped from her bed and ran to the east window. ‘Down there,’ she said. ‘In their thousands. God! Take cov—’
An instant later they were on the floor, and stone dust was spurting through the window. The tower shook with the force of the blow. The bombardment had begun.
The corner towers contained five floors. Maria and Isabella were on the upper level, above Joanna and Berengaria. The commander of the garrison had thought it advisable to house the queens in one tower, so that he would know where they were in time of trouble. It was a sensible arrangement, but it relied upon an attack from the south, or from the sea. An assault from the east meant that the tower was a prime target.
The direct hit had confirmed it, and as Maria struggled to her feet she said, ‘This is no place to be. Go over there and dress. Do we still have those old hauberks, the ones Fostus found for us?’
‘They’re in the chest.’
Maria nodded, crossed the dust-choked room and lifted out the link-mail tunics. They pulled them on and hurried down the stone steps to the next level.
Joanna and Berengaria were already dressed. The quartet looked incongruous, two in court gowns, two in male armour. Maria could not resist telling them, ‘You should have taken my advice when we first came here. We may yet find something for you. Are you ready to leave?’
Joanna ran a comb through her glorious red hair, earning a grimace from Isabella. She asked, ‘Where are we going?’
‘We’ll report to the commander.’ Maria looked round at the younger women. ‘Remember, my ladies, we are of no value in the defence of this city. We will do as he tells us.’
Isabella nodded. Joanna worked the ebony comb through her hair. Berengaria stood quiet, wondering if Richard would trouble to rescue her. He did not like her, that much was clear, and it was cold comfort to accept that he did not like other women. But surely he would not allow her to be captured or killed without making some gesture in her defence. Anyway, there was his sister to consider. He was bound to come for her. Henry would come for Isabella – probably Henry and Humphrey - while Balian of Ibelin would do his utmost to rescue Maria. She sighed and decided to stay close to the other women. That way she might be saved as part of the group.
They reported to the garrison commander and he sent them to the keep, the strong square tower that overlooked the harbour. They were given a bodyguard of eighteen men, and a young priest who was overawed by the regal company.
The Christian army was in the very act of leaving Acre for Beirut, when they heard of the attack on Jaffa. The French and English fleet had already set sail, intending to take the Crusaders aboard the moment Beirut had fallen. But there were still a few cogs and busses in the port, and Richard loaded them with as many men as they could carry. However, when the ships weighed anchor, they contained less than four hundred men-at-arms, eighty knights and just three horses.
A second force would start overland, under the command of King Henry and the Grand Master of the Temple. This force was much larger, though it would take several days to reach Jaffa. Suspicious that Saladin might launch a similar attack on Acre, Hugh of Burgundy remained to run the defence of the city.
The fleet had hardly crossed the bay of Haifa when the wind dropped. The sweeps were run out, but the overloaded vessels would not respond. The 28th dawned, then the 29th, then the 30th. Skiffs came out from Haifa with news that Jaffa was in danger of being taken. Meanwhile, the land army was making slow progress, fighting its way through one ambush to the next. The seaborne Crusaders divided their time between prayer and invective…
* * *
In an exact repetition of the Frankish assault on Darum, the Saracens bombarded the walls of Jaffa. The north-east tower was broken open, so that, from the plain, the attackers could see the three upper levels. The south-east tower was also made untenable, and the manjaniks were directed at the main gate.
* * *
During the midnight hours of 30th July, the wind blew sluggishly from the north. The long oars were shipped, every inch of sail unfurled. Gradually the fleet gathered way.
Next day, the Jerusalem Gate was torn from its hinges. For once, Saladin was unable to keep discipline, and his troops swept through the citadel, cutting down the sick and civilians. He, himself, sent word to the garrison commander, warning him to remain in the keep until the situation could be brought under control. Almost a thousand Christians were jammed, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the square tower. They could not be given one meal apiece. The garderobes became noisome from constant use. The well water was reserved for children and the aged.
The commander discussed the situation with his regal charges, crowded in one of the upper rooms, then informed Saladin that if help did not arrive by the third hour of the following afternoon, he would surrender to Islam.
* * *
They saw the ruined north-east tower, and the Saracen banners fluttering on the ramparts. They saw the Saracen lines curved around the city, as the Christian lines had once curved around Acre. As the ships drew closer, they recognized the devices: Saladin’s scimitar, half-hidden by a five-studded shield; Takedin’s palm tree, set in a crescent of stars. In the leading ship, Robert of Breteuil caught Richard by the arm and pointed to an upper window in the keep. A figure was poised there, staring down into the harbour.
‘Aah, Christ,’ Richard moaned. ‘What are they doing to us? Must we kill ourselves to avoid their ways?’
Trembling in the window, the young priest who had been allocated to the queens thought much the same thing. As soon as the Frankish fleet had been sighted, he had approached Maria and told her that someone should get word to the king.
‘I am not sure of the time, but I would say we have less than an hour left to us.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Maria said. ‘The commander will not surrender now.’
‘With respect, my lady, he is an odd one. I’ve known him a long while. He’s not blessed with great intelligence, but he lives by his word. If the hour was due, he would surrender us with help an inch away.’
Maria frowned. ‘Then we had better do as you say. Could we shoot a crossbow bolt, with a message—’
‘We might hit someone aboard ship. I thought, since I can swim—’ He nodded at the window.
‘You would leap from there?’
‘Ordinarily, no, but the situation…’ His voice tailed away. Then he mumbled, ‘The Lord bless you, Majesties,’ and backed to the window. He was terrified, and twisted with embarrassment as the four women lowered themselves to their knees. Now he would have to go through with it. He clambered awkwardly on to the window ledge. Maria opened her mouth to call him back, but as she said, ‘Brave priest—’ he leapt from the tower. None of them dared go to the window to watch.
But he had an audience aboard the fleet. Oddly, he did not jump like a man seeking death
, but turned his body in flight and hit the water with his arms extended. It seemed that he would never surface, but eventually a head and a pair of thrashing arms emerged from the harbour.
‘Put out a boat!’ Robert yelled. ‘Pick up that man!’
The swimmer was hauled aboard the rowboat and transferred to the king’s ship. He staggered under the weight of his habit, and someone found a pitch cask for him to sit on.
‘Well, you are the hero,’ Richard grinned. ‘God forgive me, I had you marked for self-murder.’
‘And I…’ the priest gasped. ‘I misjudged the height… I thought I would swim down to Hell…’
‘Are there many left alive in there? My queen, and my sister Joanna; what of them?’
‘They are all alive… A thousand or more in the keep. But we are bound to surrender at any moment.’
‘Not now, cleric. Not in my presence. Captain, take care of this Christian fish. Robert, get the shout started. We’ll run the ships close in, and dispense with the skiffs.’ He pointed to the wide beach that formed the inner end of the harbour. A few fishing craft were drawn up on the sand, and the Saracens were already using them for cover. Richard gazed up at the window in the keep, then shook his head. He would rather take on the entire Moslem army than make such a jump. Anyway, he could not swim.
The clumsy vessels – poorly designed for such a landing – moved in through the harbour mouth. Once inside, they spread out, filling the enclosed space. The captains strove to keep the ships apart, but as the vessels advanced along the harbour they began to scrape, one against the other. As they neared the walled-in beach the Saracens let fly with arrows and slingshots. Men died in the wooden forecastles, or fell overboard, to be dragged down by the weight of their armour. The fleet moved closer. Then the leading ships grounded. Their bows rose and they heeled over, throwing the Crusaders off balance. Richard clung to the low wooden wall, straddled it, then leapt into the water. He landed well, kept a grip on his massive Danish axe and ploughed on to the beach. Snatching a glance left and right, he saw that many of the eighty knights had managed to keep abreast. The Christian archers now held their fire, for fear of hitting their leaders. The knights came out of the water and instinctively allied themselves with one or other of the proven warriors. They hacked their way between the fishing craft and went up the beach, a dozen iron wedges led by King Richard, William des Barres, Balian, Humphrey, Robert and the like.
The Kings of Vain Intent Page 22
