King Henry with his brother Amalric escaped to Cyprus. Few thought he should have remained since he could do nothing and would add his name to the roster of Muslim captives. Nicholas de Hanapé, aged patriarch of Jerusalem, was helped aboard a skiff that would carry him to a galley offshore. He would not leave by himself, insisting they wait for others, whereupon so many struggled into the skiff that it sank, all drowned. Jean de Villiers, Grand Master of the Hospital, was brought to the quai leaking blood, meanwhile protesting that he should not depart.
William Beaujeu, Grand Master of the Temple, who vainly attempted to warn the citizens, was struck by an arrow near three o’clock that afternoon. He turned away from battle and some pilgrims from Spoleto thought he had lost heart.
My Lord, they cried, if you desert us the city will be lost!
He answered with a loud voice that he was slain and they saw the arrow buried in his side beneath the armpit. He twisted his neck, hurled the dart to the ground and almost tumbled from his mount. They lifted him down, put him on a long shield they found in the street and carried him to the Temple where he ascended to our Lord.
By sundown all belonged to Ashraf Khalil except that great Templar fortress jutting out to sea, sheltering a multitude of terrified citizens. Waves crashed against the walls, hammered bronze lions glared from the towers. For nearly a week it defied the Muslim horde. During that time women, children, and men who were unable to fight embarked on the few available boats, which departed hastily for Cyprus. Piteous cries from those left behind followed them out to sea.
Ashraf Khalil offered to let all in the fortress depart for Cyprus or any port they wished, if the ward and its goods were surrendered. Such terms being acceptable, the gate opened to admit one hundred mameluks and before long a white banner flew from the central keep. However, these Turks took to molesting Christian women and boys so the Templars killed them, threw the sultan’s flag at the corpses and shut the gate.
Next day Ashraf Khalil invited Marshal Peter de Sevrey to come forth under guarantee of safe conduct to explain what happened. But when Peter de Sevrey approached the Muslim camp he was seized, trussed up, and beheaded. Now those in the fortress understood the situation and looked to their defenses.
Ashraf Khalil set miners to work digging at the foundation.
On the twenty-eighth of May the landward side of the Templar fortress cracked. Two thousand mameluks at once entered the breach, but Ashraf Khalil had not waited long enough. Stones began to fall. Now with a rush the central tower folded inward upon itself, crushing mameluk and Frank, pagan and servant of God. Not one escaped, as related by the Gestes des Chiprois.
Ashraf Khalil vowed that never again would Acre play host to Christian armies. Houses and markets were looted, burnt, watchtowers dismantled, broken walls left to disintegrate. It is said that people throughout the East grieved over this destruction in plaintive song as they are wont to sing over tombs of their dead, bewailing a grandeur none would see again.
Some leagues north the city of Tyre had twice withstood Saladin, but now it was lightly garrisoned. When those Franks noticed a shadow on the horizon they made haste to embark for Cyprus.
Further north at Saida the Templars prepared to defend themselves. For a month they saw nothing. Then came a host of unbelievers led by Emir Shujai so they retreated to an islet just offshore, whence the commandant embarked for Cyprus to levy troops but did not return. Those left to defend the islet fought valorously until Saracens undertook to build a causeway, whereupon they gave up hope and sailed further north to Tortosa.
One week later Shujai approached Beyrouth. He ordered the leaders out. When they anxiously complied he made them prisoner. At this the others fled, carrying off as many holy relics as they could. Shujai tore apart the walls. He tore apart the ancient castle of the Ibelin family. He made the wondrous cathedral of Beyrouth a mosque.
Not long after this Ashraf Khalil took Haifa. He burnt the monasteries on Mount Carmel, killed the monks.
What was left? Castles of Athlit and Tortosa. Neither resisted. Offshore from Tortosa half a league stood the isle of Ruad. Some few Templars clung to it a while as falcons might perch on a remote cliff looking toward the vanished kingdom.
Ashraf Khalil marched along the coast destroying and scattering anything the Franks might use if they returned. So the peasants watching vineyards devastated and fields scorched thought they must find a way to live in the mountains. Those with Frankish blood prudently denied their heritage because centuries of religious loathing had put out the flame of tolerance.
As for God’s servants who escaped the holocaust and got to Cyprus, what charity or love they met at first did not last long. Their presence on the island spoke loudly of Christian defeat. To this day old women on Cyprus wear black in memory of a lost kingdom oversea.
The sense of it, I, Jean de Joinville, do not presume to know.
