God's War: A New History of the Crusades

Despite being overruled by the council of leaders when he proposed an expedition to Ascalon in September, Richard understood his position. Whatever his instincts as a secular general, this was no ordinary war, at least in its objective if not conduct. If the army was to stay together and his leadership recognized, both prerequisites for the effectiveness of his continuing diplomacy with Saladin, he had to march towards Jerusalem. The manner in which he did so suggested a serious intent; what precisely that was appeared less obvious. After a brief trip by sea to Acre, on 31 October Richard set out from Jaffa on the Jerusalem road. It had taken the First Crusaders a week to march from the coast to Jerusalem. After two months, Richard’s vanguard had only reached Bayt Nuba, on the edge of the coastal plain, still twelve miles from Jerusalem. Along the way, as well as fighting off repeated Turkish attacks, the Christians had rebuilt the castles of the plain ruined on Saladin’s orders. A six-week stop at Ramla allowed for provisions to be stockpiled. Richard spent Christmas at Latrun, still only a day’s ride from Jaffa. To Saladin, the advance seemed worryingly inexorable in its measured pace, although the dreadful weather contributed to its glacial progress. By the beginning of January 1192, Richard had achieved mastery over the coastal plain between Jaffa and the Judean hills. This may have been the limit of his ambition. But such occupation was also crucial if a realistic attack on Jerusalem were to be attempted. Throughout these manoeuvres, Richard kept up his talks with al-Adil, although sticking to his demands for a complete return to the pre-1187 frontiers. Urgency was added when Reynald of Sidon was seen inspecting the skirmishing between the Turks and crusaders while out riding with al- Adil.³⁰ By November the discussions between al-Adil and Richard and their agents, and their friendly tone, were public knowledge, with open exchanges of gifts, mutual entertainment and feasting. This apparently contradictory behaviour for a warrior of Christ shocked many of Richard’s followers. To avoid the taint of appeasement and show that ‘he lacked not loyalty to God and Christianity’, when the negotiations faltered and fighting resumed, Richard compensated by eagerly slicing the heads off Turks and displaying them as trophies around the camp. Such bizarre turns of behaviour did not pass unnoticed even by Richard’s keenest fans.³¹

Having finally arrived at the feet of the Judean hills, the Holy City in normal conditions just a day’s march away, in the mud and rain of a bad Palestinian winter the crusaders reached the third crisis of the war. The decision over Jerusalem could be deferred no longer. For a week (6–13 January 1192) the fate of the crusade was fiercely debated by the high command. Their dilemma revolved around whether they should gamble all in advancing on the chance of rekindling the glory – and the good fortune – of 1099 or risk the disillusionment and disintegration of the army by adopting a more prudent line. The attitude of the local baronage and the military orders proved crucial. The grizzled veterans of the east argued that an immediate attack on Jerusalem was unwise; the weather was atrocious and worsening. The problem of retaining a captured Jerusalem remained unresolved. The locals advised marching to refortify Ascalon as a base to prevent Saladin reinforcing his army from Egypt and thus exerting a stranglehold on his operations in southern Palestine. This argument fitted exactly Richard’s earlier plan, as the king presumably knew it would. A contemporary Iraqi observer recorded that Richard presented the tactical reasons against a siege himself.³² Rash in battle, cautious in politics but expert in military science, on 13 January, Richard gave the order to withdraw.

Instantly the army’s morale collapsed. ‘Never since the Lord God made the world was such deep grief displayed’.³³ The leadership was cursed. Inevitable rumours circulated, telling of the parlous state of the Turks and how easily the Holy City would have fallen, if only… However, contemporary writers, Christian and Muslim, and not just his panegyrists, were, perhaps surprisingly, ready to explain and excuse Richard’s decision. Ibn Shaddad ignored the whole issue. However, pursuing the accountancy of tactics rather than the foolhardiness of piety fuelled divisions between Christian factions and interest groups. While Henry of Champagne remained with Richard, Hugh of Burgundy withdrew, although staying in southern Palestine. Others left for Acre or to join Conrad of Montferrat at Tyre: if diplomacy rather than force were to determine the crusade’s outcome and allocate the winnings, Richard was not the only player with a prospect of success. The retreat from Bayt Nuba also confirmed the flaw in Richard’s own strategy by demonstrating to Saladin the Christians’ military weakness and inadequate manpower. The collapse of his authority in Syria, still less the overthrow of his empire, no longer threatened. All the diplomatic talk from Richard was of condominium. As the crusaders slogged their way back through the rains to Ramla, Saladin gave his army home leave.³⁴

Defenders of Richard’s decision, then and now, praise his sagacity. Yet, alongside his acute understanding of the problems that confronted any attack on Jerusalem, Richard may also have lost his nerve or, rather, the confidence in his own ability to impose himself on events. Alternatively, if he had never intended to attack Jerusalem, and the manoeuvring around the coastal plain was merely to rattle Saladin while showing his own troops how impossibly difficult the project had become, then his cynicism was matched by his miscalculation. His limitations were exposed. Such a physically, politically and psychologically damaging exercise to achieve an abortive diplomatic advantage speaks poorly of his judgement. Assuming them not be wholly capricious, the best that can be said of Richard’s policies and decisions in the winter of 1191–2 is that they allowed him to retain as many options as possible for as long as possible. The verdict of Bayt Nuba closed many of these down and immediately began to restrict further expectations of future success. What would have happened had Richard pressed on up the road to Jerusalem is unknowable. Another Hattin or a repeat of 1099; both were possible. The failure to trust in righteousness probably forced not a few to wonder what, if anything, the westerners were now doing in Palestine. Whatever view is taken of the merits of the decision of 13 January 1192, whether it can be ascribed to shrewdness or loss of conviction at the ultimate test, its consequences reconfigured the contours of Holy War in the east, not just for the following nine months but for the next century and more.

Richard countered the gloom and disillusionment by action. The volte face at Bayt Nuba was portrayed as a tactical withdrawal, not a retreat.³⁵ Never were Richard’s personal qualities as a daring, or, as Saladin himself thought, foolishly rash knight more useful.³⁶ The stories of Richard’s exploits increased in inverse proportion to the overall military success of the expedition. By the end of January, Richard had arrived at Ascalon and had set his army to work rebuilding its fortifications on a grand scale, ‘making it the strongest fortress on the coast of Palestine’.³⁷ This strenuous outdoor relief engaged his depleted army for the next four months. But their labours did little to dilute the popular desire to spend their energies reclaiming the Holy Sepulchre. Arguably, all that was achieved was to confirm Richard’s place at the now rather crowded negotiating table by virtue of his command of a still formidable army, control of Jaffa and now Ascalon. Even that was endangered by ferocious fighting between the various factions in Acre, which required Richard’s presence between late February and the end of March 1192.

The absence of Turkish menace or Christian advance allowed free play of the competition for the lucrative port of Acre. Conrad of Montferrat, supported by the Genoese, the French under Hugh of Burgundy and elements of the Jerusalem baronage, contested the authority of Guy of Lusignan, backed by the Pisans and the de facto ruler of Christian Palestine, Richard himself. As Richard had pointedly reminded al-Adil, he too possessed a dynastic interest as King Amalric of Jerusalem’s great-nephew in the male line.³⁸ But he was already envisaging his own departure for his responsibilities in the west. At his camp at Ascalon in early April Richard had learnt of the deposition of his viceroy in England, William Longchamp, and the attempted coup by his brother John. Planning for the future became urgent. Not just the lordship of Acre but the succession of the crown of Jerusalem needed to be settled, especially as Conrad’s disaffection continued to vitiate Richard’s attempts to reach a negotiated settlement with Saladin. Richard’s bullying alone had little effect as Conrad’s support was powerful, obstinate and threatened to break up the crusade. Opinion was hardening that Guy could never provide the stability required to maintain the kingdom after the crusaders’ departure. On the advice of his own army council, Richard, willingly or not, was forced to agree. In mid-April he abandoned Guy and accepted Conrad’s claims to be king, a decision influenced perhaps by his learning that Conrad’s negotiations with Saladin were nearing a successful conclusion. Guy was amply compensated by the lordship of Cyprus transferred to him by Richard from the Templars.

No sooner agreed, the succession deal collapsed. In Tyre on the evening of 28 April, walking home after dining with the bishop of Beauvais, Conrad of Montferrat was stabbed to death by two Assassins. Circumstantial evidence implicated Richard as having bribed the Assassin leader, Rashid al-Din Sinan. Equally plausible cases could be made against Saladin or Sinan himself, uneasy at Conrad’s Lebanese pretentions.³⁹ Conrad’s death caused another brief intense spasm of conflict, with Hugh of Burgundy attempting to wrest Tyre from Conrad’s pregnant widow. However, a new candidate presented himself, literally, when Henry of Champagne arrived at Tyre from Acre. With the blessing of Richard, on 5 May, Henry, now a Holy Land veteran of two years, was married to the twenty-one-year-old Princess Isabella as her third husband (in the end she managed four). The