Your emperor is drowned! Your emperor is drowned!
The knighthood of Germany soon began to rot. Those Teutonic pilgrims felt the Savior cared little for them. Mourning occupied their hearts. Some, writhing between hope and dread, renounced the true faith to go and live among Turks. The wreath, they said, has faded from our brow. Some made their way to the siege of Acre. Some joined the garrison at Tyre. Others trudged toward Germany, broken, disconsolate, expiring as they walked. It is well known how Germans are fated never to reach the Holy Land.
Concerning Frederick, they soaked his corpse with vinegar. Perhaps, as many believe, the duke of Swabia carried what remained of his father toward Jerusalem, but it decomposed and was abandoned. Geoffrey de Vinsauf relates that Frederick was taken to Antioch where the flesh boiled from his bones was laid to rest in the church of the Apostolic see. His naked skeleton despatched to the city of Tyre, whence it should be conveyed to Jerusalem. If so, this must be a wonderful contrivance of God that the Holy Roman Emperor who contended gloriously for Christ might find repose in two paramount churches of Christendom, one rendered sacred by the burial of our Lord, one distinguished by the greatest of apostles.
Concerning Saladin, the drowning of Frederick seemed providential for it is widely understood that Germans without a leader have no idea what to do. Thus he might devote himself fully to the siege of Acre. And knowing how those inside the walls must be near death from starvation, he resorted to deceit. He ordered a huge vessel at the port of Beyrouth to be loaded with sheep, corn, onions, cheese, and other foods. The mariners he caused to shave their beards and outfit themselves like Franks. He directed that crosses be fixed to the mast and he caused a brood of pigs to be visible on deck. Thus disguised the Muslim ship went gliding among Christian galleys to the port of Acre where heathen troops greeted it with screams of joy.
So this was a fortuitous acquisition. Nonetheless, if oil is poured on the fire does it not bring forth a livelier flame? Of course. Does not the wheel, turning slowly at first, rise with increasing alacrity? Of course. So did word of Islamic success bring more and more to the cross, more and more who vowed to crush the serpent.
During the blessed year 1189, at Nonancourt in Normandy, King Philip Augustus and Richard Lionheart embraced like brothers. Richard now was king of England, his father Henry Plantagenet having lately surrendered the ghost. These monarchs intent on Jerusalem vowed to undertake the pilgrimage and live on cordial terms until at least forty days after they returned. They devised certain rules of conduct toward the prevention of disorder and gross turbulence. No man beneath the rank of knight should gamble for money since these games lead to quarrels and bloodshed. Nor were clerics, knights, or personal attendants of monarchs permitted to win or lose more than twenty shillings a day on pain of being whipped naked through the army. A pilgrim that struck another and drew blood should have his hand chopped off. Whoever slew another should be tied to the corpse and buried with it. If murder occurred at sea, the murderer drowned in the victim’s embrace. For sailors guilty of crimes such as theft, boiling pitch was poured on their shaved heads so all might know them and at the next port they were cast ashore. In regard to women, none should accompany the host save washerwomen who had reached the age of fifty. Although it is known that many young women defied the prohibition to follow men of their choice.
These monarchs further agreed that a tax should be levied, which they called Saladin’s Tithe, being the tenth part of each man’s property, landed or personal, enforced throughout Christendom against all who could not or would not make the journey. The lord of each fief being charged to raise this tithe. However those who took the cross would enjoy lenience since they could not be oppressed for malfeasance of any sort, debt, thievery, murder.
King Philip Augustus accepted his pilgrim staff and wallet from the abbot of Saint Denys in June of the year 1190. Richard Lionheart accepted his at Tours, but when he leaned on the staff to measure its strength it cracked. If he made light of such an omen, no chronicle reports.
Now proceeding fruitfully in their knowledge of God these sovereigns traveled from Vézelay to Mulins, afterward to Mount Escot, and continued south to Lyons on the Rhône. They hesitated at this river because of its violence, but at length crossed over and erected their pavilions on the meadow not far apart. Pilgrims lodged here or there in the fields as best they could. It is said their number exceeded one hundred thousand with more arriving.
King Philip soon departed with all his men to cross the Alps, having contracted with Genoese, famous sailors, to carry him as far as Messina. King Richard bade him farewell amid protestations of mutual friendship. They agreed that whichever put in first at Messina should await the other.
No more was Philip out of sight than the Rhône bridge began to crumble and one hundred soldiers tumbled in, crying loudly for help. All were rescued save two, which must be counted a miracle. King Richard then had boats drawn up side by side, enabling the rest of his people to cross over. Three days afterward he marched away from Lyons and that very day the bridge dropped into the river.
He came next to Dompas near Avignon, thence by Salus and Marignan to Marseille where he encamped three weeks. Since billowing waves turned Richard’s belly upside down he decided to proceed by land with a modest escort through Genoa, Pisa, and south along the coast, thinking he could endure a brief
