Having spoken, he commended his spirit to God and expired. Thus do men, like events, rise and fall, waves of an inland sea. Mortal crises reach their apex merely to decline. Others follow, each within the boundary of inimitable Providence. Therefore we rejoice at logic and natural succession.
The less than valiant son of Count Joscelin is said to have been of slight stature, dark face pocked like the Devil’s own, bulging eyes and a monstrous nose. Licentious, drunken, dissolute, this youth fell heir to the properties but governed foolishly, by reason of which he lost control. Although he bore that name, Archbishop William notes, he was not his father’s equal.
Similarly, disorder came to threaten Jerusalem. Fulk d’Anjou governed by virtue of marriage to the heiress Melisende. The marriage net could not hold. Queen Melisende grew enamoured of a cousin, Hugh Puiset. She lay with him. King Fulk understood, but meekly swallowed the bitter draft. Others would not. Lord Walter Garnier stood up in assembly to denounce Hugh Puiset, charged him with plotting to murder the king, which charge Hugh denied. It was thought best to adjudicate this matter through combat, according to Frankish custom. On the appointed day Hugh Puiset could not be found, having skipped away to Ascalon where he took refuge among Mahometans. While there he made some perfidious compact with God’s enemies, which was high treason. Still, Queen Melisende and the patriarch of Jerusalem counseled mercy. King Fulk obliged. Hugh Puiset would be pardoned after three years in exile, small payment indeed.
Hugh Puiset returned to Jerusalem while waiting for a ship that would carry him into exile. And one day as he played dice in the street of the furriers a Breton knight stabbed him. At once the crowd began muttering against King Fulk. How could this happen, said they, without knowledge of the king? Did not the king order it?
When Fulk heard this sentiment he moved to exonerate himself. He put the knight on trial. And there being no doubt of guilt the knight was sentenced to mutilation. First, his arms and legs were chopped off. However, King Fulk directed that his tongue be left in his mouth, which was shrewd. If the knight were unable to speak he could not make full confession, whereas with his tongue he might incriminate the king. But he did not. While life stirred in the bloody stump he declared that he stabbed Hugh Puiset in hope of gaining the king’s approval. In this way King Fulk acquitted himself. As for Hugh, upon recovering his health he sailed away despondent to live three years in Apulia.
This king of Jerusalem was by repute shorter than most men, affable, ruddy-faced like David whom the Lord found after His own heart, with a memory so exceeding poor he did not recognize his own domestics. Or if someone he had honored the previous day should arrive unannounced then he must ask the visitor’s name. It is said, too, that he was compassionate and generous, which traits are unusual with men of choleric hue. There was at court in those days some Genoese who had brought from Europe a large falcon and a bitch that was taught to hunt cranes. They worked together, the dog racing after the falcon, which would strike down a crane. Then the bitch would seize it. Emir Mu’in al-Din, when he visited King Fulk, greatly admired this falcon so the king took it away from the Genoese and presented it to the emir. Along the Damascus road, according to the chronicle of Usama ibn Munqidh, this fierce bird attacked gazelles. Although when they got back to Damascus it did not survive long enough to go hunting.
Be that as it may, King Fulk’s reign ended quickly during the year of our Lord 1143. This occurred in late autumn. Queen Melisende wished to go for a ride in the country, to the Springs of Oxen where once upon a time our father Adam found those beasts that enabled him to till the soil. Now as they rode along they startled a hare asleep in a furrow. The hare leapt up and bounded away, followed by shouts. King Fulk seized his lance to join the chase, urging his mount forward. However, God determined that his mount should stumble. King Fulk lunged headfirst to the ground, the saddle crushing his head so his brains gushed out from both ears and his nostrils. The king’s entourage, all overcome with horror, came rushing to his side but he was unable to speak or understand anything. And his queen felt pierced to the heart, shrieking, pulling her hair, tearing at her garments. She flung herself down beside him and embraced him. Crowds of people appeared, eager to behold this tragedy. Then the king was brought to Acre where he lived three days, unseeing, never moving. On the tenth day of November, during the eleventh year of his reign, King Fulk ascended. His remnant they carried from Acre to Jerusalem where he lies among his predecessors in the Church of the Sepulcher of our Lord at the foot of Mount Calvary, by the gate as one enters on the right.
He left two sons. Baldwin, aged thirteen. Amalric, seven. Thus it came about that a child was anointed and crowned Baldwin III, albeit during the minority of this child his mother ruled.
They say of Baldwin III that he was a graceful and slender youth, seemingly fortunate from birth, with a silky beard and a fresh vermeil complexion. He delighted in reading. History gave him pleasure so he would inquire of learned men about the deeds and character of kings from days past. Unlike his father, he remembered names, down to the lowliest servant. He did not trouble the endowment of churches, neither did he lie in wait for wealth of any sort, except games of dice at which he played more than was thought appropriate. Roiled by hunger of the
