Saladin

by John Man

  Accounts of the Crusades give the impression that they were wholly masculine enterprises. Not so: many women were involved, as passing references in both Muslim and Christian sources testify. Aristocratic women accompanied their Christian husbands. Christian sources speak of washerwomen and women who helped fill in a ditch around Acre so that mangonels could be brought up close. Then there were the prostitutes. They were not mentioned in any Christian sources, which were almost all written by clerics not eager to publicize the lusty habits of their own side. But Imad al-Din is happy to record Christian immorality – their abominable treatment of women being proof of their barbarity – because it contrasts nicely with the civilized morality of the Muslims:

  There arrived by ship three hundred lovely Frankish women, full of youth and beauty, assembled from beyond the sea and offering themselves for sin. They were expatriates come to help expatriates, ready to cheer the fallen and sustained in turn to give support and assistance, and they glowed with ardour for carnal intercourse. They were all licentious harlots, proud and scornful, who took and gave, foul-fleshed and sinful, singers and coquettes, appearing proudly in public, ardent and inflamed, tinted and painted . . . selling themselves for gold, bold and ardent, loving and passionate, ink-faced and unblushing.

  How, I wonder, did he know? But even if it’s half true, what a story. Back in England, according to many accounts, women sent their men off with the sort of enthusiasm that marked the start of the First World War: Oh! We don’t want to lose you, but we think you ought to go. There was an eager female supply back in England, and a lusty male market in the Holy Land. The link between the two is a blank. Who did the supplying? How were these beauties recruited? Were they willing volunteers, or compelled, or bribed, or persuaded with honeyed words about how they would contribute to the zeal of the Crusaders? Who paid for their transport? What happened to them? And their inevitable children?

  Other women, as the two secretaries recorded, actually took up arms.59 There were many female knights, wrote Baha al-Din, who could not be told apart from the men until they were killed and their armour removed. Later, he recorded another instance, in July 1191, when the siege of Acre was still rolling on:

  Many of these details are from Helen Nicholson, ‘Women on the Third Crusade’; see Bibliography. She points out that both sides had an agenda in their attitudes to women as fighters: Muslim historians emphasized them as examples of Christian barbarism; Christian historians avoided mentioning them ‘to defend the Crusaders against charges of immorality.’

  One very intelligent old man . . . was amongst those who forced their way into the enemy’s trenches that day. ‘Behind their rampart,’ he told me, ‘was a woman wrapped in a green melluta [a kind of green mantle] who kept on shooting arrows from a wooden bow, with which she wounded several of our men. She was at last overpowered by numbers; we killed her, and brought the bow she had been using to the Sultan, who was greatly astonished.’

  Messages went back and forth between Acre’s Muslim inhabitants and their would-be rescuers, carried by pigeons or strapped to swimmers (a dangerous occupation, which led to several deaths). News of the German approach and the Anglo-French preparations exhilarated Christians and appalled Muslims. Saladin sent frantic messages to local emirs and the reluctant caliph urging support, and an apprehensive army gathered in northern Syria. When news came of Frederick Barbarossa’s death, it was the Christians who were appalled, the Muslims exhilarated.

  Still the double siege continued, the inhabitants of Acre always starving – with 200 a day dying – but always saved by some last-minute arrival. Once Saladin arranged for a ship in Beirut to be filled with food, in an incident described by Baha al-Din. A group of Muslims boarded the ship dressed like Franks. They shaved their beards, sewed crosses to the mast and positioned pigs – taboo to Muslims, of course, but favoured by Europeans – prominently on the deck. Then they approached Acre, cutting through the Frankish blockade. A Frankish ship accosted them. Officers ordered them to furl their sails and shouted at them, asking why they were heading for Acre.

  Our soldiers, feigning astonishment, asked, ‘Haven’t you taken the city?’ The Franks, who thought they were dealing with their own countrymen, replied, ‘No, we haven’t yet taken it.’ ‘Well then,’ our soldiers replied, ‘we will moor near the camp, but there is another ship behind us. You had better alert them so they do not sail into the city.’ The Beirutis had indeed noticed that there was a Frankish ship behind them. The enemy sailors headed towards it immediately, while our sailors unfurled all sails for a rush to the port of Acre, where they were greeted with cries of joy, for hunger was stalking the city.

  Now it was the spring of 1191. Enter Saladin’s European counterpart, the most awe-inspiring Crusader of them all, Richard ‘the Lionheart’, the recently crowned king of England, thirty-three years old, tall, strong, good-looking, with golden-red hair, seemingly the archetypal hero. But this often charming and courageous young man was also the product of a dysfunctional family, which was in an almost constant state of rivalry, rebellion, war and civil war. Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine, however, had been highly competent rulers, right up until Henry’s death two years previously,60 while Richard was prone to hot temper and impetuous action. He was both idealistic and mean, chivalrous and treacherous, a wonderful ally and a fearsome enemy, mercurial in turning from one to the other, a man equally in love with music and slaughter. With a will of iron and adoring followers, he was free to use his vast wealth – as king of England and ruler of Aquitaine, which was half of France – to indulge an urge for foreign adventures. In this case, he had personal reasons to do so: he was a relative of Jerusalem’s queen and King Guy’s dead wife, Sibylla. Retaking Jerusalem would be the perfect way to serve his religion, his kingdom and his family.

  Eleanor lived on until 1204.

  Richard, well financed by the Saladin Tithe, had some 6,000–8,000 men, whose transport he master-minded: 14,000 pig carcasses, for example, gathered from most of southern England, 60,000 horseshoes, arrows by the million, 150 ships, a complicated land–sea operation which had Richard crossing France (because he suffered from seasickness) and meeting his ships in Marseilles. Further complications followed, for Richard’s brilliant and imperious mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, was determined he should marry a Spanish princess in order to protect Aquitaine’s southern border. Queen Eleanor and the princess, Berengaria by name, pursued Richard all across Europe and caught up with him in Sicily. En route to the Holy Land, there was a storm. Berengaria was cast ashore on Cyprus. Richard rescued her, and captured the island. The two were married there, making Berengaria queen of England, not a happy position for her, given that Richard’s crusading zeal and his consequent absences (which we will get to shortly) would mean that her marriage was likely never consummated and she probably never set foot in the country of which she was queen.

  Richard joined his ally, the French King Philip, in Acre in early June, to the kindling of bonfires and the sounding of trumpets. Already Philip had built new mangonels, one named the Evil Neighbour, and another God’s Own Sling, which had been hammering at the walls. What was needed was energetic leadership, and Richard was the man for the job: he was not only a powerful figurehead but also an expert in the ‘arbelast’, or crossbow. His first move was an attempt to meet Saladin, to see if politics could replace warfare. Saladin refused, saying, ‘Kings meet together only after the conclusion of an accord.’ He agreed that his brother al-Adil could meet the English king, but sickness of some sort forestalled the summit.

  Both sides continued to build their forces, the Crusaders digging in behind earthworks, the Muslims receiving reinforcements from Egypt – fifty ships under the command of Lu’lu’, the hero who had ended Reynald’s raid in the Red Sea – and Mosul, the inhabitants of Acre continually re-shoring their much battered and undermined walls, the occasional Muslim ship breaking through the ring of Crusader vessels. Pigeons kept up a flow of information, but for the system to
work someone had to retrieve the birds once they had flown to their bases, and that sort of contact was rare. During the summer of 1191, the main messengers were commandos who swam back and forth, at great risk.

  Baha al-Din told the story of one of them, a Muslim swimmer named Isa, who used to dive under the Frankish ships at night and swim to the shore beneath Acre’s walls. He usually carried money and messages for the garrison, these being attached to his belt. The besieged soldiers would confirm his arrival by releasing a pigeon. One night, when he had dived down carrying three bags containing 1,000 dinars and several letters, he was seen and killed. Saladin’s officers guessed what had happened, because no pigeon arrived:

  A few days later, some inhabitants of Acre happened to be walking along the water’s edge and saw a body washed up on the shore. As they approached it, they recognized Isa the swimmer; the gold and wax with which the letters were sealed were still attached to his belt. Who has ever heard of a man fulfilling his mission in death as faithfully as though he were alive?61

  Adapted from Amin Maalouf, The Crusades Through Arab Eyes.

  Inside Acre, hope was dying, as Saladin heard from a message carried out by a swimmer on 7 July. There was nothing he could do. Five days later, the city capitulated, buying freedom by agreeing – in Saladin’s name, but as yet without his involvement – to hand over its population, contents, ships, military stores, 100,000 dinars (with another 10,000 for Conrad personally) and 1,600 anonymous Christian prisoners held by Saladin, 100 of them ‘men of rank’ who were listed by name. Saladin would also have to return the True Cross. Conrad would release his Muslim prisoners if Saladin kept the pledge. Another swimmer bearing another message brought the news to Saladin. Horrified, he was in the process of writing a reply forbidding this unilateral surrender, when he saw Frankish flags waving over the walls.

  It was over. Distraught ‘as a mother who has just lost her child’, he had no choice but to accept the deal.

  How could this reverse have come about? True, his forces were spread too thinly, fending off rivals to the east and north. But the main reason was that the caliph had sent no help, to Saladin’s distress. ‘Jihad is the personal duty of all Muslims,’ he wrote. ‘Yet your servant is left to bear that oppressive burden all alone.’

  The inhabitants trailed out, some 3,000 ordinary soldiers being taken prisoner, and the Franks moved in, along with a small contingent of Germans. There were four leaders – King Richard, King Philip, Conrad (who still claimed the kingship of Jerusalem over Guy) and Leopold of Austria (commander of the Germans following the death of Barbarossa’s heir, Frederick of Swabia). They squabbled over who would stay where. Richard seized the prize, the Royal Palace. But then Leopold claimed equality by raising his standard beside Richard’s, until English guards tossed it over the walls. Remember this, as Leopold did with bitterness, because there would be consequences for Richard when the Crusade was over.

  Acre was quickly re-Christianized, the churches reconsecrated, and the business of the kingship settled. Guy would keep the crown until his death, when it would pass to Conrad and Isabella and their line. That done, Philip, who was sickly and nervous that Richard was more rival than ally, sailed for home, leaving Richard in charge of dealing with Saladin.

  Saladin played for time. He needed two months, he said, to gather the cash and release his Christian prisoners. Richard’s officials demanded half the amount after a month, plus the True Cross and the prisoners. Yes, the True Cross was safe and sound in Saladin’s hands, as Baha al-Din witnessed: ‘It was shown to them, and when they saw it they displayed the most profound reverence, prostrating themselves on the ground till their faces were covered with dust, and humiliating themselves in adoration.’ Saladin agreed to the new terms, provided that Richard release his own Muslim prisoners; moreover, he would leave hostages as a guarantee that the high-rank Christians would be released. Richard’s men said they would release only the prisoners of their choice.

  With too many new conditions, trust was broken. The deal was off.

  Richard was keen to set off for Jerusalem, but could not leave while burdened by the 3,000 prisoners. His patience ran out, and he took a terrible decision. In his own words:62

  In a letter to the Abbot of Clairvaux dated 1 October 1191, quoted in Peter Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem and the Third Crusade.

  On Saladin’s behalf it had been agreed that the Holy Cross and 1,500 living prisoners would be handed over to us, and he fixed a day for us when all this was to be done. But the time limit expired, and as the pact which we had agreed was

  entirely made void, we quite properly had the Saracens that we had in custody – about 2,600 of them – put to death.

  They were roped together, led out to the open space before Acre, in full view of Saladin’s advance guards, and executed by Christian swordsmen, along with 300 of their wives and children, sparing only ‘prisoners of note and such as were strong enough to labour’. The watching Muslim troops rushed to stop the slaughter, but were repulsed. Bodies were left for relatives to recognize, bury and mourn.

  Two thousand six hundred: not many, perhaps, by the standards of a modern genocide, but a show of brutality far beyond anything done by Saladin. It is not a question of numbers. This was a political act, revealing the difference between personalities and between cultures. Richard might have released them; he might have made them slaves; but – according to Baha al-Din’s Christian sources later – he had intended to kill them anyway, proof to the Muslims that he was not to be trusted. What a difference between the generosity Saladin, as a Muslim, usually (not always) showed to his enemies and the ruthlessness that Richard, as a Christian, showed to his.

  ‘Jihad’ now has a dire reputation as a justification for indiscriminate violence against non-Muslims and Muslims, soldiers and civilians, men, women and children. But the original concept is more subtle than the superficial ideology of a suicide bomber. Jihad, as portrayed in the Quran, was a hard and unpleasant duty, which involved killing – when necessary and within limits. ‘Fight in the Way of Allah those who fight you, but transgress not the limits. Truly, Allah likes not the transgressors’ (2:190). Islam, spread by the sword, contains enough to justify tolerance; Christianity, spread by persuasion, contains enough to justify atrocity. There is much room for interpretation. What makes killing necessary? What are the limits? Choice is available. Saladin frequently chose tolerance; Richard chose atrocity.

  14

  The End of the Third Crusade

  TWO DAYS AFTER THE MASSACRE, ON 22 AUGUST 1191, Richard led his army out of Acre, shadowed by Saladin, looking for a chance to strike, but not seeing one. It was not a happy army, for the troops had indulged in a month of R&R, with good food and female company. On the march Richard’s will ruled. The only women allowed were elderly washerwomen – no ardent beauties. Since Saladin held the roads to the east, Richard headed south along the coast, with his ships tracking his progress a little out to sea, ready with food and water. His aim: to reach Jaffa, 130 kilometres away, then head inland another 65 kilometres to Jerusalem. It was brutally hot. Richard, well aware of the dangers of dehydration, ordered a slow pace – no more than 6 kilometres a day, resting in the afternoon. Even so, his troops, dressed in thick felt and chainmail to ward off Muslim arrows, began to suffer.

  Saladin was with him, marching in parallel, a few kilometres inland, looking for a place to attack, his light horsemen occasionally swooping in to seize some heat-stricken trooper. After questioning, all were killed – sometimes, as Baha al-Din says, ‘in the most cruel manner, for the Sultan was terribly angry at the massacre of the prisoners from Acre’.

  An anonymous Christian63 described Muslim tactics:

  In the Itinerarium Peregrinorum.

  The Turks were not loaded with armour like our men, and with their ease of movement distressed us so much the more severely; for the most part they were lightly armed, carrying only a bow or a mace bristling with sharp teeth, a scimitar, a light spear
with an iron head, and a dagger suspended lightly. When put to flight by a greater force, they fled away on horseback with the utmost rapidity, and they have not their equals for agility throughout the world. If they see their pursuers stop it is their custom to turn back – like the fly, which, if you drive it away, will go, but when you cease, it will return.

  Chivalry and generosity did not stand much of a chance now. At one point, a Frankish knight was captured, ‘evidently a person of consequence’, in Baha al-Din’s words; ‘Indeed, I never saw a man so well made, with such elegant hands and feet, and such a distinguished bearing.’ Through an interpreter, he was questioned about the price of provisions, which was rising daily as merchants exploited the shortage; and about the loss of horses since the Christians had left Acre. Answer: about 400 horses. At this point, Saladin ordered the man’s head to be cut off. The prisoner asked what the sultan had said, and on being told:

  he changed colour and said, ‘But I will give you one of the captives in Acre.’

  The Sultan replied: ‘God’s mercy, it must be an emir.’

  ‘I cannot get an emir set at liberty,’ answered the Frank.

  The interest shown in him by all present, and his fine figure, all spoke in his favour . . . The Sultan therefore postponed the execution of his commands, had him put in chains, and reproached him with the treachery of his fellow-countrymen and the massacre of the prisoners. He acknowledged that it was an abominable act, but said it was the King alone who had decreed and commanded it to be done. After the afternoon prayer, the Sultan rode out according to his custom, and on his return ordered that the prisoner should be put to death. Two other prisoners were then brought in before him, whom he likewise ordered to be put to death.