Before long Nur al-Din rode by the very walls of Antioch, pillaging, burning, insolent, looking to the death of Christians. He attacked the monastery of Saint Symeon high up in the mountains, after which he rode down to observe and contemplate the sea, which was a new experience. He immersed himself in salt water and exulted, studied by the men of his army. Next he confronted and took the fortress of Harim. Christians everywhere now yielded to helpless fright because the flower of Latin knighthood was delivered to the palm of a Turk. Who in the country roundabout would govern them, protect them?
Next came the sultan of Iconium leading a powerful column across Syria to threaten Christian strongholds. So the land was dazed, sick with apprehension. He laid siege to the castle of Turbessel. Count Joscelin persuaded the sultan to depart by freeing every Turkish captive and giving him twelve suits of armor. Many believe the pigeonhearted son of Lord Joscelin met a worthy end. One day en route to Antioch he turned aside to empty himself and while going about the business was captured by Turcomans who led him to Aleppo dressed with chains. They blinded him and there he languished nine years before giving up the ghost. Or it may be as the pagan Sibt relates, he went to meet some Turkish girl. Syriac narratives claim a Jew pointed him out. Others think the limb of a tree knocked him senseless. Whatever the fact, this Joscelin did not stand as high as his father’s belt.
Now, with Antioch and Edessa deprived of leadership in that summer of grace 1150, Christian Syria weakened.
Divine providence roused the Holy Land from fatal apathy. Three leagues south from Ascalon stood one of ancient Philistia’s five cities, Gaza, with splendid churches and marble homes. For centuries it stood proudly, but at length fell apart. On that hill the servants of Christ erected a fortress and garrisoned it with Templars. By doing so they threatened Egyptians to the south who were in the habit of victualing Ascalon. Hence, some faint equilibrium prevailed.
But the lash of the Lord is restless. In the year of our grace 1153 here came Baldwin III with all the siege engines he could muster, accompanied by knights of the Temple and Hospital, by great lords of the realm, by the archbishops of Tyre and Caesarea and Nazareth and the bishops of Acre and Bethlehem. This mighty host encamped along the circuit of walls and Lord Gérard de Sidon made ready to blockade the port with fifteen beaked ships. Citizens of Ascalon looked to defend themselves. Every night they marched around the ramparts, which had been lighted bright as day since they put lamps with glass covers here and there.
One morning at sunrise after five months of bombardment a section of the wall came tumbling down with noise enough to rouse the army. Pilgrims seized their weapons and rushed joyously toward that place where fortune decreed they should enter. Bernard de Tremelay, Master of the Temple, got there first and occupied the breach so his people might have first chance at looting. Forty Templars pushed through, consumed by greed, but were hacked to pieces. And the Saracens patched the wall with great wood beams, dangled Templar bodies from ropes in full view, jeered, whistled, and boasted. This infuriated God’s servants who forgot all fear of death and hurled themselves against Ascalon until those inside could not mistake the terrible wrath of our Lord. Lamenting, groaning, they chose to surrender, at which a shout arose from the Christian host. Many wept, gave thanks, lifted up their hands and eyes to praise the Creator. Thenceforth, while His standard floated from the towers of Ascalon, that province of the Holy Land seemed secure. Had Turks in the north united with Babylonians in the south, how could Jerusalem survive?
The conquest of Ascalon brought grief and fear to Egypt. Caliph al-Adil despatched troops to the mouth of the Nile and with this army went his grandson, Nasr. Because these Mahometans record events as do Franks or Scots or Alemanni or Lombards, albeit using letters few servants of God understand, the cruelty, intrigue, malice, and corruption of their lives has been preserved. The youth Nasr wearied of garrison life and returned to Cairo, whereupon al-Adil ordered him to rejoin the army. What did this rebellious youth do but get into the harem and stab his grandfather. Afterward, he showed his grandfather’s head on the point of a lance.
At first a wheel turns slowly, yet the angle grows steeper. Twenty trays of gold, thirty saddled mules, forty camels loaded with grain and other gifts did the next caliph bestow upon Nasr. It is said they would disguise themselves and slip out of the palace at night to mingle with common people.
You must visit me, said the youth to his royal patron. You must visit my home in the bazaar of sword-makers.
The caliph accepted. But all at once here came assassins out of hiding. It is related that Nasr himself threw his patron’s body into a vault beneath the house. And a black slave, Sa’d al-Daula, who witnessed the crime was put
