Some of the force of Richard I’s arrival was blunted when he fell ill with a scurvy-like affliction called arnaldia by contemporaries, which caused his teeth and fingernails to loosen and patches of hair to fall out. The Lionheart was confined to his tent for a number of weeks, but once he began to recover the king took to being carried to the frontline on a stretcher and used his crossbow to pick off Muslim troops on Acre’s battlements. At the same time, Saladin’s every attempt to overrun the crusaders’ trenches was driven back. One Muslim eyewitness, based in the sultan’s camp, observed that frustration at these repeated failures left Saladin overcome with ‘tiredness, dejection and grief’, while adding that ‘the defenders in the city had become very weak and the noose around them very tight’.4
The end was in sight after French crusaders managed to effect a minor breach in Acre’s western defences on 3 July. This small fissure proved difficult to exploit, but two days later Richard’s sappers brought down a larger section of the northern battlements. The Lionheart then took the extraordinary step of offering a reward of up to four gold coins – roughly equivalent to a year’s pay – to anyone brave enough to rush forward, through a torrent of Muslim arrows and crossbow bolts, and collect a stone from the damaged wall. The ploy worked, and by 11 July a substantial gap in the walls had been created. A path into the port now stood open. Despite Saladin’s last-ditch attempts to rally his troops, terms of surrender were agreed, and Acre’s beleaguered garrison capitulated on 12 July 1191. This victory proved to be the Third Crusade’s most important and enduring success in Palestine. Though built in part on the foundations laid by King Guy and other crusaders, the real credit for driving the siege on to its conclusion lay with Philip and, perhaps above all, Richard.
With Acre back in Christian hands, Philip announced his intention to return to Europe, and the task of reconquering the rest of the Holy Land fell to the Lionheart. In military terms, the next objective was to move the campaign on from Acre by pushing south into Palestine. Had a lesser general been at the helm, this phase of the crusade might well have ended in defeat for the Franks. Saladin’s prestige had been damaged by the fall of Acre, but he still commanded a large field army that was well placed to harass, hinder and most likely halt any invading force. Knowing full well that an advance would meet with stern resistance, Richard conceived of a masterful strategy that enabled the crusaders to forge a path through Muslim-held territory.
Rather than head inland – where the chances of being isolated and surrounded would increase – the Lionheart selected a coast-hugging route south, so that his army’s right flank could be protected by the sea. This approach also allowed the Latin host to be shadowed by a Christian fleet carrying supplies and reinforcements. Even more importantly, Richard focused on carefully regulating the speed of his march. This would be no lightning raid where confusion and disorder might leave the crusaders exposed. Instead of racing south, the Lionheart chose to move at a deliberate pace, enabling his troops to maintain strictly controlled formations, while relying upon the strength of their armour and sheer weight of numbers to resist aerial bombardments or direct assaults by Saladin’s troops. The plan was audacious and immensely risky. Should any crusaders break ranks – whether through fear, exhaustion or simple accident – the whole army might be exposed and readily overrun. Iron-fast discipline was the key, and it fell to the Lionheart to hold his troops in place. Marching in their midst, his vast banner visible for all to see, Richard aimed to be a constant, reassuring presence; drawing upon his own bloody-minded force of will, charisma as a leader and burgeoning martial reputation to inspire his men and compel obedience.
The crusaders left Acre on 22 August 1191. For the next two weeks, they inched their way southwards, while Saladin launched repeated skirmishing attacks, hoping to break open the Frankish lines. Muslim archers and crossbowmen peppered the Christian ranks with arrows and quarrels and yet they held firm. There were casualties, and even King Richard himself was struck by a missile on 3 September, though his armour saved him from injury, but nothing could halt the crusaders’ inexorable advance. On 7 September, with the Latins fast approaching the relative safety of the port at Jaffa, Saladin made a desperate attempt to stop them in their tracks. Drawing up the full weight of his field army on the plains of Arsuf, numbering perhaps 30,000 troops, the sultan tried to lure the Lionheart into a pitched battle.
The Western Christian eyewitness and crusader Ambroise – who composed a highly influential Old French account of the expedition, favouring Richard – argued that the Angevin king had always planned to face Saladin at Arsuf, and in the modern era most historians have followed this lead, maintaining that the Lionheart deliberately chose to seek battle on 7 September. Much has been made of this encounter, with one scholar even describing it as ‘the last great triumph of the Christians in the Near East’. The clash at Arsuf would turn out to be the only direct military confrontation between Saladin and the Lionheart, but the battle may not have been all that it seems. Ambroise’s version of events was written in the aftermath of the crusade, in full knowledge of the fact that Richard failed to reconquer Jerusalem. Hungry for opportunities to present his hero as a triumphant commander, the author seems to have deliberately sculpted a heightened account of the events at Arsuf, hoping to highlight this moment of untrammelled success. Other pieces of evidence, including the king’s own letters and eyewitness Arabic chronicles, suggest that the Franks were actually drawn into battle almost by accident and paint the Lionheart’s generalship as reactive rather than proactive.5
In reality, Richard’s first priority on 7 September seems to have been to continue forging a path southwards by maintaining the forward momentum of the crusaders’ fighting march. On this occasion, however, troop discipline in the army’s rearguard finally faltered. Facing unbearable pressure – with baying Muslim skirmishers racing forward and the sky darkened by a murderous hail of arrows – two Christian knights, humiliated by their enforced inaction, suddenly broke ranks and rode at full tilt towards the enemy. As the Lionheart looked back from his position in the centre of the army, large swathes of the rearguard and crusader left flank followed their lead. Richard may not have sought a battle, but one was now upon him.
Hesitation would have heralded disaster, but the Angevin king sprang into immediate action. Wheeling his horse, he led the remainder of his mounted troops in support of the crusader charge. This force had mown a devastating path across the plains of Arsuf, but – with its momentum spent – now stood to face the full brunt of a deadly Muslim counter-attack. The Lionheart’s arrival helped to repel this assault. One Latin eyewitness depicted the king’s fearsome martial prowess in epic terms, reporting that Richard’s ‘sword cleared a wide path on all sides … [cutting] down that unspeakable race … so that the corpses of the [enemy] covered the ground everywhere for the space of half a mile’.6
This may well have been a gross exaggeration, but Richard does seem to have played a central role in salvaging a partial victory for the crusaders at Arsuf. Saladin recognized that his chance to crush an isolated portion of the Latin army had passed, and hastily initiated a somewhat chastening retreat. Estimates suggest that he lost 32 emirs and a further 700 troops – a significant blow, but hardly crippling. The crusaders were able to regroup and continue their march, arriving at Jaffa on 10 September. In the past, historians have suggested that the Battle of Arsuf was the most important military encounter of the Third Crusade, and perhaps even of the Lionheart’s entire career. One prominent scholar described the victory as marking the ‘height of Richard’s fame’, while praising the king’s generalship as ‘masterful’.7 In fact, the outcome of Arsuf was far from decisive. This reversal, when combined with the humiliation of Acre’s fall, left Saladin stung, yet unbroken.
Close to a year later, King Richard’s decisive military intervention once again prevented a potentially calamitous reversal. By late July 1192, the war for the Holy Land was edging towards an inconclusive end. Neither si
de had been able to land a fatal blow. The crusaders retained control of a narrow strip of coastal territory, but had proved unable to conquer Jerusalem itself. As thoughts turned towards the possibility of a negotiated settlement, the Lionheart returned to Acre to ponder his next move. Perceiving an opportunity to reset the balance of power, Saladin led a sudden strike on Jaffa, the crusaders’ strategically vital beachhead on the Mediterranean coast. The fortified port managed to hold out against the sultan’s troops for three days, but on 31 July the outer walls were breached, and what was left of the Frankish garrison withdrew into Jaffa’s makeshift citadel. As Muslim troops ranged through the streets, pillaging and plundering at will, Saladin stood on the brink of a significant victory – one that might fracture the Latins’ foothold in Palestine.
At dawn the following day, however, blaring trumpets were heard, presaging the arrival of a crusader fleet. Once news of the assault on Jaffa reached Richard, he immediately sailed from Acre with a relief force and raced down the coast, arriving at the embattled port on 1 August. Facing terrible odds, the Lionheart spearheaded a daring beach assault – reportedly leaping waist-deep into the sea and wading ashore alongside a handful of his closest knights. Linking up with the remnants of Jaffa’s garrison, the king managed to retake the port and Saladin withdrew his forces, supposedly ‘more angry than a wolf [and] feverish with fear’.8
Richard’s troops were still dangerously exposed and heavily outnumbered. He established a camp outside Jaffa and set to work hurriedly repairing the town’s defences, but by 5 August Saladin was ready to launch a renewed assault. The Lionheart and his small force of indomitable crusaders demonstrated their remarkable bravery and skill at arms that day, repelling wave after wave of attack. A Christian chronicler likened their survival to ‘a great miracle at which all the world wonders’, and Arabic sources confirm that the hard-pressed Franks fought with remarkable ferocity. A member of Saladin’s own entourage even admitted that the Muslim troops ‘were frightened of them, dumbfounded by their steadfastness’, adding that when King Richard took the brazen step of galloping along the frontline – lance held aloft – to see who would challenge him, no one stepped forward. The crusaders held their ground, prevailing in what turned out to be the final military confrontation of the expedition.9
The victories at Acre, Arsuf and Jaffa stand as testament to the impact of Richard’s martial role in the war for the Holy Land. His incisive grasp of strategy and formidable qualities as a battlefield commander combined to earn the Third Crusade a number of notable military successes, while also helping to ensure that the expedition avoided potential setbacks. It seems clear that the Lionheart relished his role as a warrior-king and delighted in the chaotic thrill of hand-to-hand combat. In part this may have been linked to his fascination with contemporary notions of chivalric virtue. Not only was Richard willing to place himself at the heart of the action during major engagements, such as the relief of Jaffa, he also made repeated attempts to actively seek out opportunities to demonstrate his skill at arms, thereby earning glory and renown.
During a lull in hostilities through the autumn of 1191, he personally led a succession of raiding parties into enemy-held territory. These sorties gathered valuable supplies and intelligence, but they also helped to sate the Lionheart’s appetite for action. Not all of them went to plan. During one foray, on 29 September, Richard’s company was ambushed at night by a large Muslim force and drawn into a desperate, bloody skirmish. In the ensuing fracas, four Frankish knights were slain. The Lionheart himself was only saved from capture by the presence of mind of another of his companions, William of Préaux, who reportedly called out ‘Saracens, I am the king’ and allowed himself to be taken prisoner while Richard escaped.fn1 Even Ambroise, who generally portrayed the Angevin king in singularly glowing terms, saw fit to chastise the sovereign for taking such risks, acknowledging that the crusade would be doomed to failure should the Lionheart be lost.10
Of course, to some extent it comes as no surprise to learn that Richard the Lionheart made a pivotal military contribution to the Third Crusade. He has, after all, long been remembered as a medieval warrior-king par excellence, with even his most vocal modern detractors conceding that he was brutally effective in the business and practice of war. Less attention has been paid to Richard’s skills as a diplomat during his time in the Levant. This is perhaps in part because the surviving Western Christian accounts of the crusade provide little or no evidence of him actively pursuing this role. However, a rich vein of close Muslim testimony preserved in Arabic sources makes it clear that the Lionheart was actually a remarkably adept – and occasionally even devious – negotiator. By the time he arrived in the Near East, Richard understood the value of diplomatic engagement. Every successful European monarch recognized that direct negotiation afforded valuable opportunities to gather raw intelligence, sow disinformation or dissent, and assess enemy intentions. And, regardless of the fact that he would be dealing with supposed ‘heathens’ – those branded as ‘sons of the Devil’ by the papacy – the Lionheart had every intention of deploying these more subtle weapons of war during his crusade.11
Almost from the moment he arrived in Palestine, Richard looked to open a channel of communication with Saladin’s camp. The Lionheart’s first priority was to secure a face-to-face meeting with the sultan, probably in large part to gain some measure of his new opponent’s character and temperament. Saladin sidestepped these overtures, reportedly arguing that ‘kings do not meet unless an agreement has been reached’ and adding that ‘it is not good for them to fight after meeting and eating together’.12 In fact, there is no credible evidence to suggest that Richard and Saladin ever met in person. Instead, the sultan deputized his brother and loyal lieutenant, al-Adil, to speak on his behalf. Through the course of the Third Crusade, the Angevin king met al-Adil on numerous occasions and a degree of friendship seems to have developed between them. In time, their encounters came to be marked by the exchange of rare delicacies, and musicians would play for their entertainment even as the pair angled for advantage.
One of Richard’s opening gambits during the summer of 1191 was to issue repeated requests for gifts from the Ayyubid camp, including feed for his hunting birds and a supply of ‘fruit and ice’, the latter being a great luxury that probably would have been brought by courier from the Lebanese mountains almost a hundred miles away. The Lionheart seems to have been testing precisely how far he could press Saladin’s generosity, while also looking to gain a sense of his strength, resources and the morale within his army. A Muslim eyewitness conceded that the sultan entertained these approaches precisely because he too wished to learn more about his opponent.13
Richard also used diplomacy to wrong-foot his enemy. During the long and tortuous fighting march south from Acre to Jaffa, the Lionheart became concerned that Saladin was planning to ambush the crusaders as they passed through an area of thick woodland north of Arsuf. On the evening of 4 September, Richard made camp near the fringes of the forest and then despatched messengers to request urgent talks with al-Adil so that terms of truce could be arranged. The sultan let down his guard, imagining that a sustained period of serious negotiation would follow, but once the meeting began it quickly became clear that the Lionheart was in no mood for equitable discussion. Instead, he apparently presented al-Adil with a blunt ultimatum, stating that ‘the basic condition (of peace) is that you should restore all the lands to us (that you have conquered) and return to your own territories’. Not surprisingly, al-Adil was far from impressed by this demand for wholesale surrender and promptly broke off the talks. Richard then seized what seems to have been a carefully crafted opportunity, immediately ordering his army to march south through the Forest of Arsuf before Saladin’s forces had time to prepare for an attack. The crusaders faced no opposition that day and duly reached their evening camp unscathed.14
Both sides used diplomacy to cultivate suspicion and distrust with the enemy camp during the crusade. Saladin made
frequent contact with King Richard’s political rival in the Holy Land, Conrad of Montferrat – a recent arrival in the Near East, who had seized command of the Christian-held outpost of Tyre and wished to be proclaimed as the new Latin king of Jerusalem in place of Guy of Lusignan.fn2 In October 1191, Saladin even tried to persuade Conrad to launch a direct attack on the crusaders in Acre. That same autumn, while he was laying the foundations for an armed incursion inland from Jaffa towards Jerusalem, Richard reopened a channel of communication with al-Adil. In spite of their recent argument, the tone of their missives was generally convivial. The Angevin king even described al-Adil as ‘my brother and my friend’. Then, around 21 October, Richard made another outlandish proposal: the crusade would be called off if al-Adil married the Lionheart’s sister Joanne and Saladin agreed to grant them joint rule over Jerusalem and Palestine.15
It is impossible to know whether Richard ever seriously intended to follow through with this suggestion – and, in the end, the whole scheme came to nothing – but he must have understood that the mere prospect of such a settlement insinuated a seed of doubt into the heart of the Ayyubid camp. Had the plan gone ahead, al-Adil would have been gifted power, wealth and territory to rival that of his more famous brother. He certainly would have been marked out as a potential threat to Saladin’s eldest son and prospective heir, al-Afdal. Not surprisingly, al-Adil moved with extreme care when relaying Richard’s terms to the sultan, aware that any hint of overenthusiasm for the deal might ignite suspicions that he was seeking advancement or harbouring personal ambitions. On this occasion, Saladin was not taken in by the Lionheart’s ruse and continued to place his trust in his brother. It is perhaps worth noting, however, that just three years after the sultan’s death, al-Adil did indeed usurp power from his nephew, so perhaps Richard had accurately detected the first glimmers of a fracture within the Ayyubid dynasty.
Richard I Page 5
