None could forget how Isaac miraculously escaped death when the bowstring snapped, so this was pictured above the portals of numerous churches. Our Lord stands beside Isaac while Blessed Mary places a crown on his head, meanwhile an angel cuts the bowstring. On such occasions we note how providence invests good men with authority.
Chronicles relate that Isaac began to think about his brother Alexius who had fled to Syria and wondered if he might be alive. He learned that Alexius was held captive by Muslims who would not let him go except for a huge price. Out of love for his brother Isaac sent all the gold they demanded, and when Alexius returned to Constantinople the brothers joyously embraced. However, some at court persuaded Alexius that he was more fit to rule, flattered his ambition and pride until he agreed with all they said. Moreover, his wife told him she ought to be empress and would not share his bed unless he obtained the crown. Isaac scoffed at reports of conspiracy, so much did he love and trust his brother. According to Nicetas Choniates, Isaac consulted a diviner named Basilakios who poked out the eyes of a portrait and tried to knock off the painted cap. Still, Isaac would not believe.
From exemplary tales we learn how adversity like a dog licks the hand of a trusting master. Thus, when Isaac decided to go hunting he invited his brother. Alexius excused himself, pretending to be ill. And in the forest Isaac was attacked. Understanding at last, he got across the river Maritza and fled along the road but conspirators overtook him. They carried him off to a monastery, grabbed his hair and gouged out his eyes. The wicked brother now thrust Isaac Angelus into prison and told people that henceforth he, himself, would rule. Such are the Greeks. Do they not kick at the sweet yoke of Christ? Have more knavish Christians walked the earth since time began? What is the root of such evil? Yet we acknowledge the limitation of perplexity and complaint. Thou who art Creator of all creation, we would not question Thee nor doubt Thy intent.
We know that just as a man engulfed by raging water will be drawn to the bottom, so may he be sucked into the abyss of perversion. Thus, during the reign of Emperor Manuel a certain Reynauld de Chatillon arrived in the Holy Land. He was by all accounts a penniless rogue born to some Angevin family of slight estate. With no prospect in France he resolved to settle oversea, mayhap to enter the service of a puissant lord, by this or that to fill up his pocket. Simple by nature, brave enough, a feral dog, here came Reynauld de Chatillon. Turks called him in their barbaric language Brins Arnat.
What did this wretch do but quickly make himself a lord through marriage to the widowed princess of Antioch, Constance. They say she had been espoused at nine to a prince four times older and was little more than twenty when he departed to join the celestial host. Now, to the bewilderment of all, she took delight in rejecting suitors. Ralph de Merle. Walter de Saint-Omer. Yves de Nesle who was count of Soissons. A Byzantine noble whose veins leaked gold. None pleased Lady Constance. Why did she favor Reynauld de Chatillon? Chronicles do not explain save to call him handsome, the lady dazzled. This match pleased few in Antioch. All thought she demeaned herself. Emperor Manuel heard the news with little grace. In those days he was busy chasing Seljuk Turks.
The island of Cyprus thirty leagues offshore seemed to Reynauld worth pillaging. Therefore he approached the patriarch of Antioch for money to equip a fleet, but the patriarch looked at him with disgust. Reynauld cast him in prison. Still the patriarch would not unlock his treasury. Reynauld ordered him flogged and chained naked on the roof of the citadel, his bald head smeared with honey and no relief from a blistering sun but flies to suck his wounds. One day proved enough. The terrified patriarch agreed to pay for ships and troops. Thus furnished, Reynauld invaded Cyprus, not caring that it was subject to Byzantium. Fields burnt, villages looted, nuns ravished. Old men and women, being useless, forthwith got their throats cut. Greek monks and priests lost their private members and got their noses slit, after which Reynauld sent these mutilated clerics to Emperor Manuel. Truly does Abbot Guibert observe that one may in good conscience speak ill of a man whose wickedness transcends malediction.
Now being well supplied with captives, gold, jeweled icons stolen from churches, precious fabrics, animals, whatever he fancied, Reynauld de Chatillon embarked for the Holy Land. Among his captives was the governor, John Comnenus, nephew of Emperor Manuel.
Soon enough Manuel Comnenus marched toward Antioch. Reynauld hastily took himself to the emperor’s camp near Mamistra to ask forgiveness. They say the bishop of Lattakieh prevailed upon Manuel, allowing Reynauld to come before him as a suppliant in a wool tunic, feet bare, a rope around his neck, sword in hand. Holding the sword by its point, he offered the hilt. When it was accepted he flung himself down in the dust, awaiting his fate. He wept so abjectly that all who were present felt embarrassed. Emperor Manuel for a long time did not bid him get to this feet, but instead prolonged the degradation. At length he did raise up this knave,
