The Dream And The Tomb: A History Of The Crusades

by Robert Payne

  Frederick was described as the beast who had torn the side of Mother Church, the cursed enemy of Christ, the most damnable enemy of mankind. With the solemn rites of excommunication performed, in the eyes of the church Frederick was a dead man. Not only was he cut off from the sacraments of the church, but no Christian could have any dealings with him. If he died he could not be buried in consecrated ground.

  Frederick protested that he still intended to take the Cross; he had been delayed by illness, nothing else. He offered to perform whatever penance the pope demanded of him. The pope continued to curse him, accused him of poisoning Louis of Thuringia, and refused under any conditions to lift the ban of excommunication.

  Frederick had wanted to lead the Crusade in August because he believed on the evidence of his correspondence with the sultan of Egypt that it would be possible by then to negotiate a treaty by which Jerusalem, or a large part of it, could be retained in Christian hands. He had his own bailli in the Holy Land, acting as viceroy. This was Thomas of Aquino, who was astute and forceful. He also had his own troops there, for the duke of Lemburg had sailed from Brindisi with eight hundred knights and ten thousand infantry. Frederick was already a presence, issuing orders, in command of armies, while the pope fulminated that he was a procrastinator who had never intended to set foot in Palestine.

  Frederick announced that he would leave Brindisi in May; he left in June. He had only forty ships with him, and they cruised close to the coast, past Corfu, Cephalonia, Crete and Rhodes. Three weeks after leaving Brindisi the imperial galleys put into the harbor of Limassol in Cyprus. Evidently, he wanted to add the kingdom of Cyprus to his possessions, which could take a few weeks. Then he would sail to the Holy Land.

  No one in Cyprus particularly wanted to come under the German emperor who was also king of Apulia, Sicily, and Jerusalem. Cyprus was then being ruled by John of Ibelin, Lord of Beirut, who acted in the name of the eleven-year-old King Henry of Lusignan. The boy’s mother, Queen Alix, was regent and had the enjoyment of the revenues. Frederick would have liked to sweep Queen Alix, King Henry, and John of Ibelin aside. It would not be easy, for John of Ibelin was one of those lords who walk with great assurance through the labyrinths of diplomacy and politics and are very calm at moments of great danger. He was half-French and half-Greek, and was also related to the young king, Henry of Lusignan. He was about fifty years old, and at the time of Frederick’s arrival on the island of Cyprus he was mourning the death of his brother Philip.

  From Limassol Frederick summoned the entire court to appear before him. The court was at Nicosia. There was a good deal of discussion about whether they should obey the summons of an excommunicated emperor who was bound to create trouble on the island and further trouble when he sailed off to the Holy Land. It was suggested that they should reply diplomatically to the emperor that they were too busy raising the army which would follow Frederick to Syria. John of Ibelin realized that Frederick was not likely to believe any of these arguments; the better course was simply to obey him and to use every kind of argument to prevent him from taking complete possession of Cyprus. Philip of Novara, who was a Crusading knight, a lawyer of some eminence, and at various periods John of Ibelin’s secretary, was present during these discussions and he remembered the words of the man who was commonly known as “the old lord of Beirut”:

  We have counselled loyally and lovingly together, but I prefer to be captured or slain and to suffer what God has in store for me rather than consent that anyone should say that through me and my house or through the people on this side of the sea there was any lack or delay in the service of God and the conquest of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

  For I do not wish to do ill to Our Lord, nor do I wish that people will say throughout the world: “The Emperor of the Romans came across the sea in great force and would have conquered everywhere he went but the Lord of Beirut and other disloyal men in Outremer loved the Saracens better than the Christians, and therefore they revolted against the Emperor and did not wish that the Holy Land should be recovered.”

  So they rode to Limassol, taking the young king with them. Frederick received them warmly at first, asking that as a favor to him they should remove the black gowns they wore in mourning for Philip of Ibelin. They granted him this favor and accepted the scarlet gowns and robes he had prepared for them. Frederick had taken over a palace that had formerly belonged to Philip of Ibelin, and invited them all to meet him there for a feast on the following day. During the night, sailors and armed men from his fleet came secretly to the palace. According to Philip of Novara, there were about three thousand men hidden in the stables and the guardrooms.

  The feast opened in great splendor, with all the nobility of Cyprus in their scarlet robes, and the emperor explained that it was his habit to appoint cupbearers and bowlbearers in his own court, and he therefore designated John of Ibelin’s two sons, Balian and John, to these high positions. He had also arranged that the tables were arranged in such a way that everyone had a clear view of the high table where the emperor sat next to John of Ibelin.

  Suddenly about a hundred armed men emerged from hiding, and every Cypriot found a sword or a dagger held against his back. No one moved. Frederick announced that he had two claims to make, and a wise man would hasten to accept them. John of Ibelin said, “I will obey you willingly, so long as I believe the demands to be just and honorable.” Frederick’s demands were simple: the lordship of Beirut must be given to him, together with all the revenues of Cyprus for the last ten years. John of Ibelin replied that he held Beirut because it had been granted to him by Queen Isabelle, “who was my sister through my mother and daughter of King Amaury,” at a time when the city was in ruins and the Templars and Hospitallers and barons of Syria had rejected it, and he had rebuilt the city with his own money, and all this was according to the laws of Jerusalem. As for the revenues of Cyprus, Queen Alix had disposed of them, as she was entitled to do according to the laws of the kingdom. The courts, not the emperor, must decide.

  Frederick, confronted with a lawyer’s brief, flew into a rage. He shouted that he had been told that John of Ibelin was well known for sweet words and cunning phrases. John of Ibelin answered that he had been told that Frederick was well known for his deeds and he had come to Limassol with the intention of sentencing him to death or to imprisonment. Frederick became incoherent; he might have executed John on the spot if some religious men had not pacified him. At last he agreed to abide by the laws, but only on condition that twenty of the most prominent nobles were given to him as hostages until such time as the courts could hand down their decision. Balian of Ibelin was one of the hostages. Characteristically Frederick told John of Ibelin, “I know that Balian is your heart, and as long as I have him I have you.” Even more characteristically he ordered the hostages to be trussed on an iron cross, so that they could move neither hands nor legs.

  John of Ibelin’s party had put up tents just outside the city. They had horses and arms; the emperor had no horses. John of Ibelin rode off to Nicosia during the night, and when a few days later Frederick brought his own army there, the royal family, John of Ibelin, and their troops raced to the north of the island and took refuge in the castle of Dieu d’Amour, 2,300 feet above Kyrenia. The castle was built on the two prongs of the mountain and across the valley between them, and resembled one of those romantic castles in children’s fairy stories. John of Ibelin had previously provisioned it, and he had the satisfaction of knowing that it was very nearly impregnable. On the northern flank there was a sheer drop of 1,500 feet.

  Winter was coming on. John of Ibelin remained at Dieu d’Amour, and Frederick stayed in Nicosia with the men of his fleet, which was still at anchor in the harbor of Limassol. John of Ibelin was advised that he had only to descend from his mountain stronghold with his army and he would be able to drive Frederick into the sea. He answered that there were better things to do than to wage war against an emperor. He would wait for a few weeks and see what happened, knowing t
hat Frederick was a man singularly lacking in patience.

  Frederick had to act quickly because the papal armies were invading Apulia, helped by King John of Brienne. He must also go to the Holy Land, because he had given the most solemn promise that he would do so. His relations with Sultan al-Kamil of Egypt were not faring well, and this was one more reason to hurry to the Holy Land. One of the more ridiculous aspects of the affair was that there were now three kings of Jerusalem: John of Brienne, the baby Conrad, and Frederick, who claimed the title both for himself and his son.

  At last what John of Ibelin had expected came to pass. Frederick sent ambassadors to Dieu d’Amour, virtually agreeing to everything that John of Ibelin had asked for. The hostages would be returned, the regency of Queen Alix would be confirmed, no one would be asked to perform an act of homage. Instead, they would swear an oath of fealty, which would create a lesser bond between them. Above all, they would swear to keep the peace and sail together to the Holy Land.

  John of Ibelin may have had second thoughts when his favorite son, Balian, was returned to him. Balian had been kept in prison and then made to work as a galley slave on one of Frederick’s ships. Similar treatment had been given to all the hostages. Balian, like his father, was a master of tact, and when the emperor asked him to become a member of his staff he readily agreed.

  At last on September 3, 1228, Frederick set sail for the Holy Land, having spent forty-three days in Cyprus. With all his wealth, his intelligence, and the regal panoply that surrounded him, Frederick seemed to be a man hounded by his demons. He reached Jerusalem, comported himself for a few hours like a conqueror, and then departed. What he would accomplish seemed grandiose in the extreme, but it is possible he knew in his heart that he accomplished nothing at all.

  Brief Victory

  FREDERICK’s showmanship stood him in good stead. He had announced that he was on his way to the Holy Land to take his part as the leader of the Crusade, and the Saracens were properly respectful. They knew him well and saw elements of themselves in him. They, too, were intelligent, sensual, capable of sudden changes of mood, loving panoply and showmanship. There were some who said he was more Arab than the Arabs, being a Muslim in disguise. Frederick was not the first to have been enchanted by the Muslim culture. The Kingdom of Jerusalem had been ruled by men with a talent for luxury and high living. They were in love with the refinements of life in the East and were deeply influenced by Muslim culture, so that we find them sitting cross-legged on carpets and leaning on cushions, wearing the same embroidered silk garments worn by the Turkish emirs and chieftains. The East had seduced them, and granted them a way of life totally dissimilar to anything found in Europe. The Arabs cultivated gentleness but they were never harder than when they appeared most effeminate. Ascetic priests arriving from northern France or Flanders were thrown off balance when they saw Crusaders imitating the morals of the Arabs. Frederick II was the prime example of this seduction.

  Frederick’s fleet, seventy ships strong, sailed into Acre with about a thousand knights and eight or nine thousand pilgrims of all kinds. His army looked formidable, for he was accompanied by his own retinue and most of the knighthood of Cyprus.

  At Acre Frederick was received with great ceremony, but there could be detected a curious sullenness among the people, who knew his reputation, feared him, and expected nothing good from him. The Pisans and Genoese generally favored him, the Venetians were neutral, the Templars and Franciscans were hostile.

  About the time that Frederick landed at Acre, two Franciscan fathers arrived with a papal declaration that anyone who assisted Frederick in any way—by attending his court, offering homage, bearing arms for him, or taking part in negotiations with him—would be rendered liable to excommunication. It was the pope’s duty to see that Frederick’s dominions should be taken from him and given to others who were more obedient to the Church. The pope’s declaration with its clear and implied threats meant that Frederick would have to act very quickly in order to acquire authority in the Holy Land.

  This authority could only come from Sultan al-Kamil, who had recently taken possession of Jerusalem and had gone on to invest Damascus. Al-Kamil was in a position of ascendancy. Now he did not need Frederick, but Frederick was in desperate need of al-Kamil, the old friend with whom he had exchanged many embassies.

  At this moment al-Kamil was encamped with his army at Nablus in Samaria. He had promised Jerusalem to Frederick if the emperor would help him take Damascus. But Frederick had come too late to the Holy Land, for Damascus had already been taken. He had nothing to offer al-Kamil except his friendship and some expensive gifts. If he had any use for Frederick at all, it would be as leader of the Christian army against a threatened invasion of the Khwarismian Turks. The Khwarismians had reached the Upper Euphrates. Al-Kamil was certain they would advance sooner or later into Syria; and sooner rather than later. He was therefore disposed to regard Frederick as an ally in the coming war with the Khwarismians, and if he had to surrender Jerusalem to the emperor, it would be for this reason and no other. Jerusalem would be returned to the Crusaders because armies of tribesmen were breaking out of central Asia, threatening the whole of the Middle East.

  Frederick made his temporary capital in Jaffa, where he fortified the castle and waited for supplies, which failed to come. Jaffa was close to famine. The Templars and Hospitallers refused to fight for him; the Cypriots could not be depended upon; only the Italians he had brought from Brindisi and the Teutonic Knights under the Grand Master, Hermann of Salza, would stand by him. He had a force of about six thousand knights and perhaps eight thousand foot soldiers; it was pathetically small when compared with the army of the sultan of Egypt.

  His real strength lay in the past, in the stream of letters and gifts he had exchanged with al-Kamil. Thomas of Aquino and Balian, Lord of Sidon, were sent as ambassadors to Nablus, and the learned Fakhr ad-Din came to Frederick’s camp outside Jaffa. One of Frederick’s letters to al-Kamil has survived in an Arab translation:

  I am your friend. You are not ignorant of how far I am above all the princes of the West. It was you who bade me come here. The kings and the pope know of my coming here. If I return empty-handed, I shall lose all respect in their eyes. After all, was it not Jerusalem that gave birth to the Christian religion. You have destroyed it, and it is now reduced to the utmost misery. With good grace give it back to me even in its present state, so that I may lift up my head before kings. I renounce in advance all the advantages I might gain from it.

  This letter from an emperor to a sultan begged too many questions to be entirely credible. He implied that the pope knew of his coming and approved of his mission. He implied, too, that Jerusalem was nearly worthless because the walls had been torn down. That he would renounce all the advantages he might gain from it was entirely beyond belief. Al-Kamil, in his reply, spoke of the inherent difficulties of surrendering Jerusalem: public opinion throughout the entire Muslim world would be aroused, there would be insurrections, his dynasty might be swept away. Nevertheless he sent Fakhr ad-Din on another embassy with an immense array of gifts—silks, jewels, Arab mares, racing camels, and elephants—to arrange an agreement, which was signed at Jaffa on February 11, 1229.

  This agreement was one of the most spectacular accomplishments of Frederick’s spectacular life, for it gave him nearly everything he wanted and seemed to ask nothing in return. Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Nazareth, together with Lydda, Ramleh, and Emmaus, were restored to the kingdom. The roads from Jaffa to Jerusalem and from Jerusalem to Bethlehem were surrendered to the Christians; a large slice of the Galilee, Sidon and Toron, the villages between Nazareth and Acre were also restored. In Jerusalem the Temple Area, including the Dome of the Rock, was reserved for the Muslims, who were to have their own courts. Franks might enter the Temple Area provided they showed proper respect for the dignity of the holy sites. No new fortresses were to be built by the Egyptians. Antioch and Tripoli were excluded from the treaty, and since they were in
the possession of Bohemond IV, Prince of Antioch and Count of Tripoli, Frederick seems to have hoped that al-Kamil might in his own good time take possession of them. Certainly the exclusion was deliberate. There would be a complete exchange and restoration of prisoners. The truce would last for ten years, five months, and forty days.

  The treaty was almost too good to be true. It was largely the work of Frederick and al-Kamil themselves, and it was therefore a personal document testifying to an enduring friendship. Frederick on behalf of the Christians renounced all efforts to conquer Egypt, and it was this aspect of the treaty that seemed in the eyes of the Christian clergy the most alarming. Gerold, Patriarch of Jerusalem, also objected strongly to the fact that the Muslims would be allowed to worship in Jerusalem. But these objections were a form of quibbling. What the pope objected to most of all was that an excommunicated emperor had succeeded where better men had failed. For the first time in forty-two years, Christians were free to make the pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre.

  Frederick now claimed the right to be crowned King of Jerusalem. On Saturday, March 17, he entered the Holy City, and all through that day and night preparations were made for the coronation. The archbishops of Capua and Palermo were by his side, but when he asked them whether they could perform a coronation mass they refused, being too fearful of the ban of excommunication. The coronation ceremony was very simple. The crown was laid on the altar; a thousand candles burned; Frederick, wearing his richly embroidered imperial robes, marched up to the altar, seized the crown was laid on the altar; a thousand candles burned; Frederick, wearing his richly embroidered imperial robes, marched up to the altar, seized the crown, and placed it on his own head. Thereupon Hermann of Salza read out a long speech in celebration of the event, in which God, David, Christ, and Frederick were mystically united. Frederick, who wrote part of the speech himself, declared that he had come to Jerusalem by divine intervention as a prince of peace. The same themes can be heard in a letter sent to all the sovereigns of Europe the same day.