on the honour of all Muslims, the pride of the believers, the zeal of the faithful!
The Lionheart was moved by the Sultan’s rallying cry and immediately sent an emissary to ask for a meeting with him, accompanied only by interpreters. But the request was politely refused with a thoughtful comment.
It is not customary for kings to meet, unless they have previously laid the foundations of a treaty. For, after they have spoken together and given one another gifts, it is not seemly for them to return to making war on one another.
The King was impressed by the message.
‘I like this man; he is a worthy opponent.’
Saladin’s impassioned plea to the Muslim diaspora was soon answered. Devout warriors armed to the teeth came in droves. To the east, they came from Mesopotamia and from beyond the Tigris, as far away as India. To the west, they came from Muslim Spain – European crusaders, but for the Muslim cause. And from North Africa, they came from the furthest reaches of the Sahara, from Mauretania and the Kingdom of Mali, the realms of the Black Men.
Everyone in our camp saw the battles to come as the final Holy War between Christians and Muslims, lending credence to what Joachim of Fiore had said in Sicily. Even Alun, who had dismissed Joachim’s prophecies as pure theatre, admitted that the outcome could shape the future for generations to come. He spent long hours in prayer, and even persuaded the Lionheart to join him on occasion.
After Saladin’s rejection of his offer to meet, King Richard threw himself into the capture of Acre like a man possessed. He ordered the construction of two dozen ballista and three large canopies that he christened ‘moles’. They would allow his sappers to dig under Acre’s massive walls. While his catapults and archers bombarded the defenders, his ‘moles’ were wheeled into position. Made from heavy timbers and covered with hides soaked in vinegar to counteract Greek fire, they provided cover for the sappers to dig into the soft ground beneath the foundations of the walls. They worked night and day. When they opened a large enough space beneath the stones, they supported their work with wooden props until they had created a chasm large enough to undermine the wall above.
After an immense effort, one of the holes was ready. On the morning of 5 July, the King ordered the army to stand by. The sappers packed kindling and logs around their props and drenched everything in oil before igniting their handiwork. The timbers burned for over an hour before groans and cracks heralded the imminent collapse of a large section of Acre’s walls. When it came, a thunderous roar and a cloud of choking dust signalled the vital breakthrough. We all waited for the King’s order to attack, but it never came. The dust settled and an eerie silence replaced the deafening noise. A warm wind from the sea caressed our faces; men stood or sat on their mounts in quiet contemplation; pennons snapped in the breeze. I looked at the Lionheart; he was staring intently at the slowly dispersing cloud of debris where the wall had been. As if on cue, a figure appeared bathed in the glow of the morning sun behind us.
In a loud voice that echoed across the ranks of our army, he spoke in perfect Norman French.
‘I am Baha al-Din Qaragush, Atabeg of Acre. I will parlay with the King, the one called “Lionheart”.’
Without any bodyguards, the Atabeg of Acre then stepped over the ruins of his city’s walls and began to stride towards us. The Lionheart immediately jumped from his horse and went to greet him. The Muslim leader bowed deeply to the King, who returned the compliment with a short bow of his own.
Atabeg Qaragush was given a seat in the Lionheart’s tent where, with Philip Augustus, Henry of Champagne and the Duke of Austria in attendance, the King dictated his terms.
‘All Christian captives held by the Sultan Saladin must be released unharmed. A geld of 200,000 bezants is to be paid by the Sultan. Two thousand Muslim soldiers will be taken into my captivity. One hundred of the noblest citizens of the city, including you, my Lord, will be held as hostage. Finally, the True Cross is to be returned to us. All of the above must happen before the next new moon.’
The Atabeg blanched at the severity of the terms, as did everyone present. Qaragush stood and took a deep breath.
‘You are called “Lionheart”. But your heart is not that of a beast, but of stone!’
‘Those are our terms.’
The forlorn man looked around the tent appealingly, hoping for sympathy. He saw only unyielding faces, except for Abbot Alun’s. Disconcerted by the harshness of the demands, he turned his eyes downwards.
‘Your terms are agreed. But remember this, noble Christian kings, although you may not think so, Muslims and Christians worship the same God. I hope He forgives you for what you do today.’
The next day, the King ordered the army to form up on either side of the road out of Acre as a guard of honour for its surrendering garrison and citizens. Despite the months of hardship, they streamed out with dignity; their weapons, armour and clothing were immaculate, and their heads were held high. In all, 2,700 members of the garrison were immediately taken into captivity, while the civilians began their long trek to the safety of Saladin’s camp.
We thronged into Acre amidst scenes of jubilation; it was the most secure bridgehead we could have hoped for in Palestine. The Lionheart, Berengere and Queen Joan occupied the royal chambers in the citadel, while King Philip took charge of the Templars’ Palace in the north-east corner of the city.
That evening, Blondel unpacked his lute and sang the chansons of victory, including the ‘Ballad of Robyn of Hode’, said to be about Hereward of Bourne and his family, which was one of my favourites and hugely popular with the army. It was a memorable evening, one that lasted long into the night, with some revellers still celebrating at sunrise. Sadly, in the days ahead, there would be less cause for celebration.
Despite several visits by the Lionheart’s envoys to Saladin’s camp to demand the release of his prisoners, the payment of the gold and the return of the Holy Cross, none of these undertakings was fulfilled by the deadline of the next new moon. The King was furious and summoned Alun and myself to the Palace. When we arrived, he was pacing the room, with the Grand Quintet gathered around him and looking pensive.
‘I thought he was a man of honour!’
As usual, there was reluctance to challenge the King when his ire was rising, but William Marshal tried to soothe him.
‘The sum of 200,000 is a lot of gold; he has probably had to ask the Grand Caliph of Damascus for most of it. Also, if the rumours are true, the Holy Cross has been embedded in the steps of the mosque of the city, and the Caliph will need to give his permission for it to be removed.’
‘Damn it, William, I think he’s testing my mettle. I’ll tell him I’ll execute the prisoners if he doesn’t deliver on the terms within a week.’
Alun immediately intervened.
‘Sire, remember, Saladin was not privy to the terms and can only have heard of them after we had entered the city. He’s probably furious that Qaragush agreed to them and that he’s been presented with a fait accompli.’
‘That’s as may be, Alun, but a fait accompli is what it is. He
‘I agree, but think carefully; if you threaten to kill the prisoners and he calls your bluff, you will have no choice but to carry out your threat.’
‘I understand that; that’s why he must know it’s not a bluff.’
With that ominous thought, the Lionheart brushed aside all further entreaties, threw his goblet of wine into the empty fireplace and left the room.
I looked at Abbot Alun, who was as sombre as I had seen him.
‘Let’s pray that Saladin can raise the money and find the Holy Rood.’
Two days later, Alun persuaded the King to send one final demand to Saladin. But when no answer came back, he summoned me to see him. When I arrived in his quarters, he was standing in the window, looking out to sea. He did not turn round, and spoke in an unusually subdued voice.
‘Have the prisoners rounded up and tied together. They are to be taken on to the flat plain between our army and Saladin’s, close enough so that the Sultan can see what’s happening, and lined up in rows of a hundred