by Jean Plaidy
The boy lowered his eyes; there was delight in the gesture. It was as though he feared to gaze at such a dazzling figure.
‘Come,’ said the King, ‘let us sing it together. You take the first verse and I will answer you in the next.’
The boy lost his nervousness when singing, and together they harmonised.
Richard patted the boy’s flaxen curls.
‘Tell me your name,’ he said, ‘that I may ask for you to come and sing to me when I wish it.’
‘I am Blondel de Nesle, Sire,’ answered the boy.
None who had taken part in the march from Acre to Jaffa would ever forget it. The heat was intense, being one hundred degrees Fahrenheit in the shade; armour became so heated by the sun that it burned the skin and gave additional torture to that suffered by the bites and stings of insects. The men’s dress was most unsuitable. The gambeson, a quilted garment made of linen, and sometimes leather, was padded with wool; over this was worn a hauberk with long sleeves and made of chain mail, attached to which was a hood which could be pulled up to cover the head. Beneath the hood a skull cap of iron was worn for protection and over this was a cone-shaped headpiece covering the wearer’s face with only a slit through which he could see. Beneath the armour was a long linen tunic, and in addition to these garments, the knight had his weapons to contend with. The sword, with its broad blade and square hilt, which was strapped to his side, was heavy; and very often in addition to his sword he would carry an iron hammer.
To march so accoutred added to the soldiers’ discomfort, and the watching Saracens were delighted to see the enemy so burdened that their speedy elimination seemed inevitable. In their own loose flowing robes, and accustomed to the weather as they were, they believed they were much better equipped for victory.
Richard, however, was not known as the greatest living general for nothing. He assessed the situation. His men would be protected in some measure by their heavy clothing and armour and if they marched but two miles a day and rested frequently they could endure the strain. He sent orders to the galleys containing food and other stores to sail along the coast keeping pace with the army. Thus what was needed would always be available during the journey.
No sooner had the march begun than the Saracens started their harassing tactics. To endure the terrific heat, the persistent thirst, the torment imposed on them by the insects would have been unbearable but for the courage of their leader who was always there to spur them on; and his knights seeking to emulate him were of great value to the King.
The Saracens tried to break the line but they could not do so. The fact that the army progressed so slowly enabled them to keep close together; and the constant stream of Saracen arrows, although they found their targets, could not penetrate the mail and many a footsoldier marched along with arrows protruding from him at all angles, giving him the look of a porcupine. These men then became reconciled to their heavy equipment because they realised its life-saving qualities.
By night they camped close to the sea where the galleys carrying food and ammunition were in sight to comfort them.
Richard, knowing that many of them would be thinking of the recent riotous living in Acre and perhaps losing heart because of it, arranged for the heralds to go through the camp shouting ‘Help us, O Holy Sepulchre!’ to remind them that they were on a holy crusade. When they heard the heralds call every man would stand to his feet and raise his hands together and cry to God to help him.
Each day the rising of the sun would remind the men that another day of discomfort and danger lay ahead before that blazing tormenter set again. But with the appeals to God ringing in their ears and the example of Richard and the knights and the belief that what they were doing would win Heaven’s approval, they were ready to march on. It might be, thought Richard, that their recent carousal in Acre would add zest to their days because they were in urgent need of a remission of their sins after the orgies in which they had indulged, so it could be said that the life they had led in Acre was a good thing after all.
There was one knight who won Richard’s special approval. Where the fighting was the fiercest that knight could always be seen; when the enemy circled about Richard he was there beside him and when the affray was beaten off Richard sent for him.
‘I want to thank you for your good work,’ said Richard. ‘I have seen you in action and that has given me comfort. You are an example to the men.’
The knight lifted his headpiece and when Richard recognised that face there was a moment of embarrassment as he recalled that incident of the canes when this man had torn his clothes and he had been unable to beat him.
‘So it is William des Barres,’ said Richard.
‘I fear so, Sire.’
‘Fear nothing,’ cried Richard. ‘But no need to tell you that. I know you fear nothing . . . not even the wrath of kings.’
‘I have always kept out of your way, Sire.’
‘Until today. You were close to me then.’
‘I was there as an unknown knight. I did not think you would discover me.’
‘You fight well,’ said Richard, ‘whether it be with sword or canes. Let me see more of your skill.’
Then he laughed aloud. He was pleased. The affair of the canes had always made him feel ashamed when he recalled it.
‘Let us bury our quarrel by becoming the best of friends,’ said Richard.
At Arsouf a battle took place. The crusaders were greatly outnumbered, there being but one hundred thousand of them to three times that number of Saracens. The fighting was fierce and at first it seemed that the victory would go to Saladin; but the crusaders stood so firm that it was not possible for the Saracens to break their ranks. The lightly clad Saracens were very vulnerable to the crusaders’ arrows whereas the heavy crusader armour continued to save Christian lives.
Saladin in the thick of the fight was amazed at the skill of the crusaders, while at the same time Richard could not help but marvel at the bravery of the Moslems.
Richard thought: We should not be fighting against each other, and wondered if that same thought might be in Saladin’s mind.
He hoped that Saladin was understanding why he had had the prisoners slaughtered. A promise had been broken and this must be avenged. He believed now that had he waited Saladin would have sent the ransom and he had encountered nothing but a little oriental prevarication. His impatience had cost so many lives that he was horrified to consider this.
But Saladin must understand that when a great king gave his word that he would do something, he must do it.
The fact was that however much respect the leaders had for each other this was war.
By sunset Saladin conceded victory to Richard and he retired leaving the town of Arsouf in Richard’s possession. It was a Saturday and Richard said they should spend the whole of Sunday resting there.
There was mourning in the Saracen camps when their losses were counted. Some seven thousand Saracens had fallen in the battle while the Christian losses were comparatively slight.
Saladin, retiring to the woods, went about his camps to comfort his soldiers. The humble ones had fought well and valiantly; it was the Emirs, the leaders, who had been no match for the Christians.
Saladin sent for his brother and his son and asked why they had failed.
‘It is Richard,’ answered Malek Adel. ‘There is something unnatural about him. He is there in the thick of the battle one moment, and then, where there is a weakness and we are about to break through, he suddenly appears. His men who are on the point of surrender fight like lions when he is seen to be there. He shouts to them abuse and encouragement and it is as though he gives them special powers. If he had gone home instead of the King of France we should have driven them into the sea by now. No one can stand against him.’
Saladin nodded understandingly. ‘I know this to be so,’ he said. ‘I wonder what we can do against such a man. He has the valour to subdue all lands. What can we do against such a mighty foe? I would that
he were our friend. But if I had to lose my land, then I would rather lose it to this King than any other.’
He could not eat. He sat brooding on his slaughtered ranks; and in his heart he was torn by his admiration for Richard now known as Coeur de Lion and his desire to drive him from the land.
He roused himself both from his melancholy and his preoccupation with the near divinity of his enemy.
‘Richard is but a man after all,’ he said to Malek Adel. ‘For the love of Allah do not let us see him as a god or we are indeed lost. We know him for the most formidable enemy who has ever come here. Very well, we must be shrewd. If he has bettered us on the battlefield perhaps there are other ways in which we can beat him. He will now march on to Jerusalem. Instead of harrying him on the way as we have been doing without great success let the main army ride on ahead of him. Raze to the ground the walls of the towns through which he must pass. Make sure that he cannot get supplies there. You may depend upon it he will make for Ascalon and attempt to cut off our supplies from Egypt. Let us be one step ahead of him.’
This seemed a good idea. No army could carry on without food and supplies. Saladin went on ahead to carry out the plan and thus Richard and his army reached Jaffa with comparative ease.
Although the walls had in places been razed to the ground, what comfort there was in Jaffa among the orange groves and the almond trees! Fruit, which they had sorely missed, abounded. Figs, grapes and pomegranates were theirs for the taking. To slake their thirst in such a pleasant manner seemed the height of bliss after the long hot marches.
But many of the company were sick of the adventure. They thought of the wily King of France who was on his way home. He was the wise one. They thought of weary journeys to come, and the chances of meeting death on the way. That they would go straight to Heaven had suddenly become a small compensation. The fleet was plying back and forth between Jaffa and Acre and under cover of darkness many of them slipped out of camp and stowed away in one of the galleys and so sailed back to Acre.
It was not long before it came to Richard’s ears that the Saracens were destroying the walls of the cities on the road to Jerusalem so that the Christian armies would find no shelter in the towns. Realising that this was the reason for the recent easy progress, Richard sent one of the galleys to Ascalon to discover whether this was true; when the galley returned with the news that it was, he decided that they should leave Jaffa and march immediately to Ascalon there to prevent the complete demolition of the city.
He knew that the men were restive. They had suffered more than soldiers should be asked to. There came a time when they were near breaking point, and having been among soldiers all his life Richard was well aware of this. He called a council consisting of the Dukes of Austria and Burgundy, Guy de Lusignan, and knights in whom he had great confidence such as William de Preaux and William des Barres.
He put to them the theory that they should march on in spite of the fact that the winter was almost upon them – and the winter could be as hard to bear as the heat of the summer. They should make for Jerusalem with all speed, he said, and once that city was in their hands they could fortify it and return home, the object of the crusade successfully achieved.
The Dukes were against it. The men were in need of a rest, they said. They were revelling in the fruits of Jaffa. They must have this respite. To march now after such a brief respite would mean that many would desert to Acre. The Duke of Austria who had never forgiven Richard for tearing down his flag from the walls of Acre hinted that he for one might do so and if he went, with him would go the German contingent. The ranks were depleted enough and Richard was aware that several of the men had slipped away.
He knew that he was right. He was supported by Guy de Lusignan but he recognised the signs of rebellion in the eyes of the Dukes and some of the knights and he said he would shelve the decision.
How restive was Richard at Jaffa! He longed to press on. He would get young Blondel to come and sing with him. He liked the boy to sit at his feet and he would caress his yellow curls as he sang. Blondel was quite a musician; he could compose both music and words. They wrote a ballad of a king and a minstrel and Richard said: ‘Sing this song to none other. Let us make it the song for us two.’
Blondel adored him and it seemed to Richard that there was a magic in those young fingers which could strum a lute to such perfection as to bring peace into the troubled days.
‘I want to march on to Jerusalem,’ he told Blondel. ‘The greatest moment of my life will be when I enter that city.’
But still he stayed at Jaffa.
Once he rode out on a hawking expedition. Like music the hunt brought him comfort; and as he rode along on his beloved Fauvel, he saw a party of Saracens and set chase. Fauvel could outpace all other horses and in a short time he had followed the Saracens into a wood. No sooner had he entered than he knew this was an ambush. They had deliberately set out to lead him here.
They might have taken him had not William des Preaux ridden up and shouted to him: ‘What do you here, knave? How dare you leave me! Because I allow you to ride my horse you do not take my crown as well.’
The Saracens many of whom could understand the language of the Franks which was spoken by most of the crusaders immediately believed that they had lured the wrong man into the woods and that William des Preaux was the King.
They started to chase him, thus giving Richard the opportunity to escape. William des Preaux also managed to elude them.
Afterwards Richard and William des Preaux laughed over the adventure which was such as the King loved; and he spent much time in the company of William des Preaux and William des Barres playing chess and mock jousting with them, riding out to hunt, but taking greater care in this than before, for daring as he was Richard saw that had he been captured that would have been a most ignoble end to the crusade.
During that stay in Jaffa he realised how many had deserted and that he had to contend with weary men and arrogant leaders such as the Duke of Austria. They were enjoying a period of peace but it was uneasy and could end at any moment. It must be that Saladin’s army was suffering in a similar fashion and it occurred to Richard that, since Saladin had once before shown himself amenable, this might be an opportune moment to come to some agreement, that they might have a temporary truce to give them both a little respite.
The idea of negotiating with Saladin excited him. He sent out feelers and discovered that the Sultan was as eager to make terms as he was.
Richard’s terms for peace were that Jerusalem with the territory between the River Jordan and the sea should be given to the Christians.
When Saladin heard this he raised his eyebrows. It was a big demand. Richard could not seriously believe it would be granted, but nevertheless Saladin would not reject it immediately. Both sides were weary of fighting. They needed a rest; discussions of terms of peace would be one way of getting it.
Saladin could not openly visit Richard. If they discussed terms they must eat and drink, and to sit down at a table together meant more to all Arabs than appeasing hunger and thirst. It was a symbol of friendship. No, they could not accept the fact that their great leader – as godlike to them as Richard was to crusaders – should sit down and eat with a Christian.
Saladin sent for his brother Malek Adel. ‘Go to Richard,’ he said, ‘discuss these terms with him. I do not believe for one moment that he wants peace. He wants to drive us out of Jerusalem that it may be restored to the Christians. It is a matter of religion with him. But what he needs and what we need is a respite from fighting. Go then and hear what he has to say.’
Malek Adel was eager to undertake the mission. He wanted to know more of this myth-like figure who had the power to strike terror into the hearts of Saracen warriors merely by appearing.
He went to Richard bearing rich gifts, among them seven valuable camels and an elaborate tent. They sat together and food was served to them and they treated each other with the utmost respect as they discussed
the possibilities of making a truce.
Each was impressed by the other. Malek Adel had a grace and charm only second to that of his brother; he was witty, astute and, Richard knew, courageous. Richard marvelled that these people whom he had in the past been led to believe were little better than savages could so please him with their company.
With adroitness Malek Adel skirted the subject. It never occurred to Richard, such was his forthright nature, that Malek Adel could be anything but in deadly earnest. He was led to believe that there was the greatest possibility of a peace treaty being signed.
They talked of music and Richard sent for his favourite minstrel, Blondel de Nesle, who sang for the delight of Malek Adel; then Malek Adel sent for Syrian dancers and musicians who performed for Richard’s pleasure.
It was a congenial meeting.
Malek Adel went back to report to Saladin who had now received overtures from Conrad de Montferrat hinting that he would be ready to negotiate with Saladin separately.
‘This man is a traitor,’ said Saladin. ‘Let us hear what he has to say. He hates Richard because Richard gave his support to Guy de Lusignan in the conflict between Guy and Montferrat. And see he promises me that he will take up arms against Richard if I guarantee him possession of Sidon and Beyrout.’
‘And will you?’
‘I would not trust him as I trust Richard. But we must see him, and, brother, let Richard know that Montferrat is negotiating with us. It will serve two purposes. It will make him anxious to come to peace with us and it will let him know that Montferrat is a traitor.’
Thus it soon reached Richard’s ears that Montferrat was visiting Saladin. This could only be for one reason. If he was conferring with the enemy he was no longer Richard’s friend. He never had been, of course, but at least he had recognised Richard as the leader of the crusade now that the King of France had gone home.
It was clear how Montferrat’s mind was working. He was furious because Richard had got Philip to agree to make Guy King of Jerusalem until his death. That could mean that it would be years before it came into Montferrat’s possession and perhaps it never would.
