Forty-five Christians seized near Beyrouth were led into Saladin’s presence, among them a very old man with wobbly teeth, shuffling, decrepit. The sultan was astonished, wondering whence he came and what he wanted. The ancient replied that he had marched from his country in order to worship at the Holy Sepulcher. Saladin pitied him, lifted him up to the saddle of a horse and directed him to the Christian camp. That very same day, Beha al-Din reports, the sultan’s youngest children wished to behead a prisoner. The sultan would not consent. They are too young to know what is meant by infidel or faithful, said he. They are too young to trifle with other lives.
All who knew this strange prince agreed there was about him nothing low nor mean of spirit, nor was he tarnished with conceit. Throughout his life he exhibited that rare simplicity which marks those who do not feel compelled to inflate themselves. At some gathering of nobles he was overheard modestly asking for a sip of water, but no one troubled to fetch it. And not once during his life did he go on pilgrimage to Mecca, which seems unnatural since he was accounted most pious. Nor did fasting suit his temperament. How should such a riddle be chosen the instrument of God’s wrath?
According to the chronicle of Reims, there was a pagan lord imprisoned at Acre who claimed to be Saladin’s uncle, some old man with braided hair and a white beard hanging on his breast. King John ordered him up into the daylight and through an interpreter urged him to speak freely concerning the deeds of his nephew.
I will speak the truth, he answered. I will speak of a great marvel. My nephew pretended to be a Christian pilgrim with staff, wallet, and cloak that he might enter this hospital because he knew of its charity. Those who welcome sick folk laid him in bed, eased him, and asked what he would eat. Then did my nephew protest, saying that which he desired he could not have. Nay, ask boldly, replied the Hospitaler, for we have such commiseration that never did any man come short of his desire. The right forefoot of Morel is my wish, Saladin answered. I would see it cut off before mine eyes to make a bowl of soup. But that I cannot have since Morel is the Grand Master’s favorite steed. Now have you listened to my folly.
Then went the Hospitaler to speak with the Grand Master, who pondered and turned things about in his mind. Go, said he at last. Fulfill this pilgrim’s wish since it is better that mine horse should die than any man.
Straightway they led the animal to Saladin’s bed, cast it to the ground, and there stood a knave with a sharp axe. Seeing it thus, Saladin lifted one hand. My desire turns to other flesh, said he. Now do I crave mutton to eat.
So the Grand Master felt right glad, for he dearly loved this horse Morel. They gave the sick man what he wanted. Three days after, he called for his staff and cloak and took leave. Back went he to our people, but did not forget the good things that were done. He caused a charter to be drawn, sealed with his seal, which decreed that one thousand gold bezants each year should be left to the hospital for sheets and coverings to cover the sick, which should be taken in perpetuity from the revenues of Babylon. And each year from that day forward did the hospital receive one thousand gold bezants on Saint John’s Day.
More would I tell you of my nephew Yusuf, the old Saracen continued. One matter doth vex me. When he perceived that he must die he sent for a basin of water and asked that he be lifted until he was sitting. With his right hand he made the sign of the cross above the water. And having touched the basin in four places he spoke as follows. So far is it from this place unto this as from this unto this. After which he poured water on his head, uttering three words in the Frankish tongue that none of us understood. Thus he departed, the finest prince of our land, who was my nephew, and lies next to his mother. Above them stands a tower wherein a lamp filled with olive oil doth burn night and day.
So much is told by Robert, chronicler of Reims. Just as the carbuncle shining in darkness throws light upon dark places, does this cast light upon counterfeit faith. Yet the supremacy of God shall determine the good, judge the wicked. I have heard that pilgrims across the Holy Land lamented Saladin’s pagan birth and thought him almost worthy of conversion and wagged their heads and exclaimed. O God! What a Christian knight would he have made!
Saracens honor a custom not unlike our own whereby the patriarch of Jerusalem anoints and crowns each king. They appoint some high lord to march ahead of the man who will become sultan. He carries an embroidered saddlecloth that he displays, meanwhile instructing people to gaze upon their sovereign. That is what
