We are told by parchment from those days how King Baldwin meditated by the river Gihon while his knights who were deft with lances contrived to spear a number of fish. These they carried back to Pharamia for breakfast. But as King Baldwin arose from the meal he complained of distress in his belly. Also, an old wound began to stir. His spirit flagged. Then a herald was instructed to proclaim that all should at once make ready to depart for Jerusalem. The king was unable to ride so they placed him on a litter made from tent poles and traveled as far as the town of al-Arish where he lost hope. He asked that his body be carried to Jerusalem because he did not want infidels to dig him up and do him some dishonor, saying that he wished to be laid next to his brother Godfrey. Those attending him fell silent and he understood why they would not speak, because in such heat the corpse would putrefy. He told them he should be embalmed. I entreat you to open my stomach with a knife, said he. Take out my entrails. Rub my body with spices and balsam generously in the mouth, nostrils, and ears. Wrap what is left of me in a hide and carry it to Jerusalem for Christian burial. The nobles were hard put to restrain their grief. They answered that he placed on them a heavy burden. As you love me, said the king, or as you loved me when I was in fair health, you will not refuse this task. Then without delay he summoned his cook, Addo, and bound him with an oath to handle the business.
For two days King Baldwin lay motionless in his tent, but at last quit breathing. Then the cook Addo slit his body and took out the organs, which were salted and buried, the poor shell smeared with pungent oil and spices, sewn into a hide adorned with hangings, tied firmly to a horse. Mournfully yet cautiously, since news of Baldwin’s death might incite the pagans, they carried him to the Holy City.
By chance, which is the will of God, on that same day when it is customary to bring palm branches from the Mount of Olives the body of King Baldwin met a procession descending toward Jehoshaphat. And the dead king was brought up in the midst of their singing. So, rather than songs of joy and triumph, groans of sorrow could be heard throughout the valley. Even those Saracens who observed the cortege were seen to weep.
All agreed that since the body had been kept a long while and was stinking it should be given a funeral at once. Now King Baldwin lies in Golgotha alongside his brother Godfrey. The tomb is said to be wondrously crafted of polished white marble.
A cousin to these men, Baldwin du Bourg, ascended the throne. He was not first choice among the barons. By repute he owed much to Count Joscelin of Edessa. Valorous enough, displaying a full beard yet little presence, of such piety that his knees grew callused from kneeling in prayer. Withal he had a tight fist, his virtue tarnished by cravings for silver. Such was Baldwin du Bourg.
His advocate Joscelin was caught by Turks in our year of grace 1122. Joscelin and his cousin Galeran went riding with a small force when they dropped into the arms of Balak. This occurred on the thirteenth of September amid showers of cold rain. Frankish horses floundered in mud, hence the Turks rounded them up without difficulty. Joscelin, Galeran, and sixty knights were captured. Ibn al-Athir tells how Balak wrapped a camel skin around Lord Joscelin and sewed it tight and carried him off to the fortress of Kharpurt. Nor would Balak exchange him for ransom, demanding instead the city of Edessa.
King Baldwin du Bourg rode north in April of the following year to see how Count Joscelin might be liberated. Knights from Edessa guided him to a muddy field near the Euphrates, that same field where Joscelin was trapped. With little thought the king encamped. Next morning he resolved to enjoy some falconry, which art he had learned from Eastern nobles. But all unexpected, once again, here came Balak. Turks say the king of Jerusalem flung down his sword. Perhaps. However it came about, Baldwin du Bourg soon enough joined Count Joscelin in the wretched dungeon of Kharpurt. There they loitered miserably, bound with shackles, hidden from every light save that provided by our Lord.
Anon the count of Edessa contrived a plan to escape. Through promised rewards he got in touch with Armenian peasants and some time later here came fifty Christian Armenians disguised as pedlars with goods to sell, or disguised as monks or beggars, all carrying knives hidden in their clothes. One by one they drifted through outer gates of the citadel, day by day making themselves familiar to guards until they did not seem suspicious. One day while the officer in charge was playing chess they approached to complain about some pretended insult. And as they got close they stabbed him and took spears that had been left unattended and began killing other guards. More Turks rushed up but were likewise slaughtered. Now the captives were freed. Some, hobbled by chains, nevertheless climbed ladders and hoisted a Christian standard to the
