In Distant Lands

by Lars Brownworth

  It wasn't long, however, before Frederick realized that al-Kamil was stalling. A show of force was clearly needed to grab his attention. The emperor abruptly cut off negotiations and began making obvious plans to march toward Jerusalem. The coastal city of Jaffa, which protected the approach to the Holy City, was fortified as if in preparation for a grand offensive, and the army began stockpiling food. The sultan got the message. While the emperor was still in Jaffa, delegates arrived asking for a truce.

  The negotiations were difficult, but Frederick was in his element. When the envoys arrived he greeted them in Arabic and regaled them with his knowledge of the Koran. The formative years he had spent in Sicily had equipped him with a subtle understanding of the Islamic mind. He knew exactly when to parry and when to thrust, when to take a hard line and when to compromise. In three months he managed to do with his tongue what the three previous crusades had failed to do with swords. The Holy City was regained.

  Victory in Defeat

  Appropriately enough, nearly every term of the treaty was a compromise. Both sides agreed to a ten-year truce, and Jerusalem – with the exception of its mosques – was restored to Christian control, along with Bethlehem, Nazareth, and a thin strip of land connecting them to the coast. The Holy City itself was to remain without walls or garrison, and Islamic pilgrims would have free access to the al-Aqsa Mosque, the Dome of the Rock, or any other site of worship. Additionally, all current Muslim residents could stay, and their communities would have their own officials and be under Sharia law. As a last stipulation, Frederick would remain neutral in any war between Islam and the other Christian states, and would assist the Muslims if any Christian broke the truce.

  When the first reports that Jerusalem had been retaken leaked out, a wild euphoria gripped Outremer. In a moment Frederick had been transformed from a conniving devil to the great hero of Christendom. Bells in every city rang, men wept openly in the streets and services of thanksgiving were held. As the details trickled out, however, joy turned to puzzlement and then horror.

  The city was barely in Christian hands at all. They would have no power over a large segment of the population, no control of numerous holy sites, and no ability whatsoever to restrict entry into the city. Even worse, the defensive walls couldn't be rebuilt and the city was strategically isolated. Its only connection to the rest of Outremer was a thin corridor of land that could be cut off at the whim of its neighbors. The terms of the treaty made Jerusalem completely indefensible. This was no great victory; it was a diplomatic sham.

  It didn't help matters that al-Kamil publicly boasted about his diplomatic triumph. He had diffused the crusade for the laughable sum of 'a few churches and ruined houses. All the sacred sites', he assured his audience, 'would remain in Muslim hands, and Islam would continue to flourish as before'. In any case, he finished, he would 'purge' Jerusalem of Christians the moment the truce expired

  It's hard to see what else Frederick could have done in his compromised position, but his treaty was the settlement of a man who was interested in a coronation, not the long-term stability of Outremer. He, at least, had gotten exactly what he wanted and he wasted no time planning a lavish ceremony in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.

  The Patriarch of Jerusalem, as expected, flatly refused to have anything to do with it. When Frederick ignored him and entered the city anyway, the Patriarch placed the entire city under interdict. Anyone who participated in the ceremony or supported it would join the emperor outside the church.

  What followed was one of the most bizarre episodes in crusading history. On the morning of March 18, 1229, Frederick II Barbarossa entered the city's holiest church to find it deserted. However tenuous the arrangement, he had single-handedly accomplished the stated objective of every crusade to liberate Jerusalem. Yet this great victory had only brought bitterness as both Christians and Muslims felt betrayed by their leaders. Frederick himself was a walking contradiction – an excommunicate enemy of the faith who was also the leader of a holy mission for the church that could offer remission of sins.

  There was no one to perform a coronation or even a simple mass, but Frederick wasn't to be denied. One more defiant gesture would only add to the legend. Flanked by the German soldiers who had followed him in, he donned his imperial crown and declared himself the King of Jerusalem. It was a joyless affair, made even more so by the obvious mutual contempt between the emperor and his new subjects. The next day he left the city never to return.

  By the time he reached Acre, he was in a foul mood. He hadn't expected gratitude from the citizens of Outremer, but he at least expected respect. The worst offender was the Patriarch of Jerusalem who had made no secret of his feelings. The insufferable man had beaten Frederick to Acre and rallied the nobility against him.

  The emperor was in no mood to deal with insubordination. He hauled the Patriarch in front of him and angrily demanded to be recognized as king. Equally furious, the Patriarch roared back that he didn't take orders from traitors. That was the last straw. Frederick seized the city, ordering his soldiers to evict anyone who wouldn't admit that he was the rightful King of Jerusalem. Those who protested with speeches were publicly flogged, and the Patriarch was put under house arrest.

  The only thing that prevented further escalation between imperial forces and locals, was Frederick's overwhelming desire to leave as soon as possible. In his absence from Europe, Gregory IX had been busy. He had recruited an army, quite fittingly under the command of John of Brienne, the dispossessed former King of Jerusalem and father-in-law of Frederick. The papal force had swept into Frederick's southern Italian territory and were on the verge of conquering it.

  On May 1, 1229, only ten months after he had arrived in the Holy Land, Frederick II sailed home. In a fit of spite – and to ensure that they didn't violate the terms of his treaty – he first destroyed every weapon or piece of siege equipment that he could find. For their part, the citizens left no doubt what they thought of the emperor. The walk to his flagship was more like a hasty retreat than dignified procession. The entire way he had to endure catcalls while being pelted with manure and rotting animal intestines.

  It was a suitable end to a bizarre crusade. On the surface, Frederick had been remarkably successful. Against the opposition of most of Christendom, Outremer, and Islam, he had somehow talked himself into Jerusalem, accomplishing what no other crusade but the first one had. Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Nazareth were once again Christian cities.

  In every significant sense, however, these victories were meaningless. The crusade had never been about anything other than Frederick's personal goals, and he had been reckless in his pursuit of them. He left Outremer – like Jerusalem – deeply divided and virtually defenseless.

  The coronation he had struggled so hard for is unlikely to have brought him much comfort. Within a year, the soldiers he had left behind to look after his interests were fighting a full-blown civil war. Within a decade, Jerusalem, and any trace of Frederick's influence, was gone.

  The experience did no favors for his reputation either. He had arrived in the Levant deeply mistrusted and left, as a contemporary chronicler put it, 'hated, cursed, and vilified.' He had done irrevocable damage to the Christian cause, and gained nothing for it.

  Chapter 19: The Seventh Crusade

  “…the king of the Franks went forth with a mighty collection of people… and the earth quaked at the sound of them...”

  – Syrian chronicler Bar Hebraeus137

  Outremer was saved from complete collapse by what had rescued it time after time – Muslim infighting. The urgency of resisting the infidel had greatly diminished now that Christian Palestine was clearly on life support. The Sultan of Cairo was far more interested in conquering Damascus than in finishing off the pitiful remnants of the crusader states.

  Nothing symbolized the almost careless attitude toward the jihad more than the fate of Jerusalem. The forces of the old sultan al-Kamil occupied it the moment the truce expired in 1239, and en
tered Damascus the following year. The sultan then died, and in the resulting civil war Jerusalem was handed back to the Christians in exchange for military support. Actual control, however, was only a mirage. The Holy City was nothing more than a bauble for its Islamic masters to pass around when convenient.

  This was made abundantly clear in 1244 when an Egyptian general named Baybers decided to take it back. Baybers was the leader of the Mamluks, a group of former slaves that made up the backbone of the Egyptian army. Smashing a desperate crusader army sent to stop him, Baybers swept into Jerusalem. The men who hadn't left were massacred, the women and children enslaved, and the city's churches – including Constantine's Church of the Holy Sepulcher – were torched. All that remained of Outremer was a tiny strip of the Levantine coast, and even that existed only at the whim of its Islamic neighbors.

  The wretched state of the crusader kingdoms induced the usual piously empty hand-wringing in Europe. Frederick II promised several massive crusades, but no one believed him since he was currently fending off a papal army and had been excommunicated for the second time to boot.138 Pope Innocent IV, meanwhile had called another crusade, but had advised that it be sent against Frederick II, the real enemy of the faith.

  In this atmosphere of cynicism and political backstabbing, where not even the pope would ride to the defense of the Holy Land, the King of France abruptly stepped forward to restore the tarnished ideals of crusading. Louis IX was as unlike Frederick II as one could get. A man of sincere and deep faith, the young king already had an unimpeachable reputation for integrity, even among his enemies. Less than three decades after his death he would be hailed as a saint, and remains the only French monarch ever canonized. Far more serious than Richard the Lionheart, he was equally chivalrous, and believed that the liberation of Jerusalem was the most worthwhile expression of Christian piety. Thanks largely to the work of his immediate predecessors – most notably Philip II – France was wealthy, stable, and one of the most powerful kingdoms in Europe. There was no better way to use these resources than to put them at the service of Christ.

  His enthusiasm was never in doubt. While the rest of Europe's monarchs found reasons to defer, he had taken the cross the year Jerusalem fell, despite being very ill at the time. The horrified queen mother successfully persuaded the pope to absolve the vow, saying her son was delirious, but Louis simply repeated his oath once he had recovered.

  Just because he was eager to get started, however, didn't mean that he was rash. This was a sacred calling, his highest responsibility as king. Nothing could be left to chance. The plans were meticulous, and the organization impressive. It took three years, but when he set sail on August 25, 1248, he led the most efficiently run, well-provisioned crusading force that had ever left Europe.

  His target, surprisingly enough, was Egypt. He had studied the Fifth Crusade extensively, and had come to the conclusion that the original plan of forcing Cairo to its knees before attending to Jerusalem was strategically sound. The Fifth Crusade had been plagued by bad leadership, had spent most of its time sitting around, and had still very nearly succeeded. He would make none of those mistakes.

  Since it was late in the campaigning season, the army wintered in Cyprus, while Louis IX gathered information about the current political situation in Egypt. What he heard was encouraging. Al-Kamil's dynasty was crumbling and the Mamluks would clearly soon have the upper hand. Now was the perfect time to exploit the divisions.

  The Egyptian Campaign

  The downside to wintering in Cyprus was that it gave the Egyptian sultan plenty of advance warning about Louis IX's intentions. When the crusaders reached Damietta, they found an Islamic army waiting for them. They were forced to disembark in waist-deep water and wade onto the beach in the teeth of furious opposition. Louis IX himself performed gallantly, forcing his way onto the sand in the middle of his men.

  Once they had established a beachhead, the struggle was mercifully short. An Egyptian charge was broken up by French lances, and fell back on the main army in disarray. Within minutes the Muslims were fleeing from the field, leaving Damietta to its fate.

  Louis IX at once gave orders to begin a siege, fully expecting a long resistance. The garrison of Damietta had stubbornly held out for more than five months during the Fifth Crusade, and they were undoubtedly better prepared this time. When he sent scouts to test the defenses, however, they discovered that the city was empty. Memories of the siege thirty-one years before had done the work for him. The citizens of Damietta had simply fled along with the garrison.

  The unexpected success presented something of a problem. They were only a day into the crusade and there was no longer a useful precedent to follow, only the mistakes of the Fifth Crusade to avoid. Louis IX's advisors were split about what exactly to do next. The ultimate goal of course was to regain Jerusalem, but how long should they remain in Egypt? Was Egypt an end to itself or merely a bargaining chip in the larger objective? In other words, should they drive on to Cairo and permanently break Muslim power in Egypt to ensure the long-term security of Outremer, or only keep up the pressure till the sultan surrendered Jerusalem? The former path risked repeating Pelagius' folly during the Fifth Crusade, and the latter risked missing a chance to stabilize the Holy Land for generations.

  Louis struggled mightily with the decision. Damietta could be held indefinitely thanks to his command of the sea, and there was no question that the sultan – who had already demonstrated his lack of mettle – would offer Jerusalem sooner rather than later. But he couldn't in good conscience ignore the long-term stability of Outremer. Reclaiming Jerusalem without ensuring its future safety would do no more good than Frederick II had done. The head had to be cut off the snake.

  After a few months planning, Louis advanced cautiously south, while ensuring that his supply lines were adequately protected. Within a month he had reached Mansoura, and made camp in the exact spot Pelagius had chosen three decades before.

  As if haunted by the ghosts of a failed crusade, a nightmare scenario began to play out. The Nile once again began to flood, and French attempts to build a causeway were repulsed by a Muslim army that had drawn up on the other side. Once again, a crusade that had started with such promise was stranded. Then, by a stroke of luck, the king's brother, Robert of Artois, discovered a local Egyptian who knew of a fordable spot upstream. Without waiting to confer with Louis, Robert plunged into the water with a few hundred knights and managed to get across safely. He immediately stormed the Muslim camp, which was taken completely by surprise.

  The stunning victory went completely to Robert's head. Mansoura was the only significant obstacle on the road to Cairo and had to be taken before the crusade could advance. He had already saved the army once, now here was the opportunity to cement his reputation. So instead of waiting till the main French army crossed over to join him, Robert burst into Mansoura, attempting to take the town by himself. Within minutes he and most of his men had been cut down in the twisting streets, depriving the crusade of some of its most experienced knights.

  Louis had no time to grieve. The moment his army had crossed the Nile, an immense Muslim army engaged them. The brutal fighting lasted for more than twelve hours and resulted in terrible casualties. The crusaders managed to prevail, but were too weakened to seriously threaten Mansoura, let alone Cairo.

  While the king agonized about what to do, the sultan was busy preparing a trap. The Christian army was a threat as long as it could be resupplied by the Nile, so he devised an ingenious solution to neutralize it. A fleet was constructed in Cairo and then dismantled and hauled by camels around the crusaders. A few miles downstream it was reassembled and rolled into the river, neatly cutting off Louis IX’s army from Damietta.

  Ironically, given the scale of Louis' preparations, he was in the exact same predicament as the Fifth Crusade. For three months he refused to give up, even as starvation and disease further weakened his army, but there was no real doubt that the crusade was finished. Finally, in
March he gave the order to retreat. The sick and wounded boarded transports and attempted to run the Islamic blockade while the army marched north.

  Though he was desperately ill, Louis IX refused to take a spot on the ships himself. His duty was with his army, and he wouldn't abandon them to their fate. As it turned out, this was just as well since all but one of the transports failed to make it past the Muslim navy. Most of the men were butchered, only those thought fit enough to recover were spared for the slave markets.

  Louis IX fared only marginally better himself. As the army dragged itself north, it was constantly harassed by the shadowing Muslim army. It rapidly became clear that with diminishing food and no ability to resupply, the effort was doomed. Less than half of the way back to Damietta, the king realized that they could go no further. Continued resistance would only add to the casualties before the inevitable surrender. In the interests of sparing his remaining men, the French king offered to surrender.

  To Louis’ horror, the sultan immediately ordered the massacre of anyone who couldn't pay a ransom. The sick or wounded were slaughtered along with the poor, the rest were taken into captivity. The sultan then proposed his terms. In exchange for the immediate evacuation of Egypt and a huge indemnity, the survivors would be allowed to ransom themselves. King Louis himself was to stay in captivity until at least half of the money had been paid.

  In a particularly cruel twist of fate, Louis accepted the terms only to watch as a long-simmering revolt by the Mamluks toppled the Egyptian sultan. If he had only stayed in Damietta a few months longer, or delayed his attack on Mansoura, Egypt would have been in no position to resist. Now, however, his position was decidedly worse. The new masters of Cairo had no intention of honoring any agreements with the infidels and intended to sell them all into slavery.