Richard’s army crossed a river of sweet water, marched without obstacle to Blanchegarde and pitched their tents on the plain. Within a small space of ground that first night a soldier and his arms-bearer died of serpent bites. Yet the Lord in whose service they perished looked down with mercy, granting absolution to their souls.
On the ninth of June the living host arrived at Latrun and that night caught fourteen Parthians who crept out of the mountains to plunder. Next day the king with his escort rode ahead to Arnald castle, pitching his tent on the high side. Thence to Beit Nuba five leagues from the Holy City where they stayed a while expecting Count Henry. On the morrow of Saint Barnabas a spy informed King Richard that Turks lay in ambush on the mountains so at daybreak he went looking for them, surprised them by the fountain of Emaus, slew twenty, caught Saladin’s herald, and put others to flight. His men captured three fine camels, mules, horses, beautiful Turcomans, various species of aloe, and similar costly things. Richard chased the fleeing infidels, striking them down right and left until he came into a valley where, having pierced another and cast the body aside, he looked up to behold shimmering at a distance the yellow walls of Jerusalem. Unable to contemplate the city of God, which he could not deliver, King Richard lifted his emblazoned tunic to hide his face.
Those inside Jerusalem were horrified when fugitives brought news of Richard’s approach. None wished to challenge him. Muslim documents assert that if he had moved forward at once he could have taken the city because one and all had fled. Saladin himself demanded the swiftest charger to escape, not anxious to see close up that English visage.
However it may be, in Richard’s army the lower order complained, as is their wont. Hitherto they had been ripe with eagerness, but now they muttered and spoke anxiously. O Lord God, what shall we do? How shall we hold out against Saladin? Lord God, how shall we accomplish the pilgrimage?
These doubts came to the notice of King Richard. Therefore he assembled the barons to discuss whether it would be expedient to go forward. If it please you to march toward Jerusalem, said he, I will not desert you. Yet that may be the height of imprudence, for Saladin’s spies lurk behind every tent. He is conscious of our weakness. That we are distant from the seacoast he knows quite well. If, when we lay siege to Jerusalem, the enemy comes down in force out of the mountains to the plain of Ramlah and defeats those who bring provision from the sea, what should we do? Then, too late, we should repent. Moreover, the walls of Jerusalem are said to be very great in circuit and our few troops judiciously deployed might well prove inadequate to surround the city. If, then, a host of Turks should attack, we would be at a loss. Do I therefore command this hazardous enterprise while misfortune overwhelms the Christian army, then should I be held accountable for blind infatuation. Wherefore, on such a dubious issue, I think it may be rash to advance without precaution. Further, since we are ignorant of this ground, little knowing defiles and roads, if we hope to attain with joy and triumph that success we have long anticipated I think we should take counsel of the natives. I think also we should ask the Templars and Hospitalers their opinion whether we should proceed on this course to Babylon or Beyrouth or Damascus. By so doing, we will not, as now, divide ourselves into quarreling parties.
With mutual consent and the king’s recommendation twenty men were sworn to advise. Five Templars, five Hospitalers, five nobles of France, five natives of Syria.
But while these twenty consulted and debated here came a spy born in Syria, Bernard, hastily returned from Egypt. He wore Saracen garments and with him two others in similar disguise who had no business except to keep watch on the Muslim host. None better resembled Saracens nor better spoke that tongue. To each King Richard had given three hundred silver marks when they departed. Now they mentioned caravans approaching Babylon and would lead him to them, which caused him to rejoice. He sent for the duke of Burgundy to bring the Franks and join him. To this the duke agreed, provided he might have one third part of the spoil. They mounted five hundred knights and with one thousand agile foot sergeants advanced to Castle Galatie. While they rested at this place a spy informed Richard of a caravan watering at the round cistern and he might capture it. However, Saladin learned of their intent and hurried up, so there were two thousand Saracen knights with the caravan, beside those afoot.
King Richard ordered barley given to the horses in the name of Saint George. And the men ate, after which they rode through moonlight until morning when they came to the round cistern and saw Turks fit for battle. The king was mounted on a tall charger conspicuous above the rest, we are told by musty parchment, and threw himself singly against these Turks, penetrating the foremost rank, pressing so hard that some fell aside with hardly a blow. And when his ashen lance shivered he drew his sword, cutting and hewing, splitting heads from skull to teeth. No sort of armor could withstand his blows. Very well also did the men of Poictou acquit themselves. Here were Angevins and Normans thrusting through eyes, through mouths, chopping off hands or feet, so many Turks dropping that pilgrims stumbled over heaps of bodies on the sand. Infidels scattered, saddles twisted, desperate for the mountains, leaving abandoned what they pledged to guard. Saracen herders now approached, stretching forth their hands in supplication, anxious to yield themselves captive, leading camels by the halter, mules and hinnies burdened with precious stuff, Greek textures, figured silk, samite from Damascus, quilted
