Yet, as Saladin prophesied, Malik wished to acquire the kingdom for himself. So when he and al-Afdal returned to the palace he requested an apple. He took from his belt a knife with a poisoned tip and cut a slice for himself with the blade, and cut another that he held out to his nephew on the point. No more did al-Afdal eat what his uncle offered than he could feel poison lacerating his body and knew he would die. Then Malik rode away from Damascus as fast as he could and went to Tekrit in the land of Medes where he summoned a vast army of Kurds and others. When he reappeared with soldiers at his back he was hastily acclaimed by the citizens of Damascus. That is how he got what he wanted. Concerning Saladin’s other children, I am told that al-Aziz who governed Egypt tumbled from his mount while chasing jackals near the pyramids and soon expired, a judgment proceeding from the severity of God. As to those others, our Lord by the ineffable strength of His hand brought to nothing the plans their malignity imagined.
Now when King Richard embarked for England he left behind a meager and threatened enclave along the shore. Still, it provided access to the sea. And soon enough here came merchants like dogs at the heels of war, sniffing the value of precious stuff. Traders from Genoa, Pisa, Venice, Marseille, and other cities, all intent on establishing principalities. Nor did the Church forget her mission. While decadent Romans gratified a taste for luxury in the mysterious lure of silk and took to bathing with aromatic oils as pagans do, His Holiness Innocent III renewed the urgent call. Some would charge that the pontiff slept, awakening to his obligation only because of a vulgar curate at Neuilly between Paris and Lagny-sur-Marne, by name Fulk. This curate spoke on God with assuredness, in a loud voice. Usury and lechery maddened him. Ardent, confident, he indicted clerics who kept whores in parish churches and pointed to strumpets in the crowd until those that listened to him preach did not know what to do. You must go and hear Fulk, they exclaimed. Listen to Fulk because he is another Paul! It is said he redeemed women as did Peter the hermit a hundred years before and got them settled at the convent of Saint Anthony, or got husbands for them, and dowries. Wherever he paused to storm at turpitude, penitents gathered. He gave sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, movement to the lame. Those who were sick traveled long distances to wait in his path and touch his cloak, as happens today.
It was not always thus. Old histories say that Fulk had scant learning, was coarse and depraved, unfit to be curate. His parishioners at Neuilly jeered. He therefore enrolled at the University of Paris and was tutored by Peter le Chantre and with much effort got his degree. Yet when he came back to Neuilly he found the congregation rude. For two years they interrupted the sermons, hurled insults. Then all at once he received the gift of influencing souls. Like sharp arrows his words pierced the hearts of men, driving them to their knees, weeping, repentant. Peter le Chantre brought the university masters to hear him preach at Saint-Séverin. He was urged to speak not only in Paris but throughout Flanders, Brabant, Picardy, Champagne, or where the spirit moved him. He performed miraculous conversions. A certain usurer, repenting, confessed where his treasure was hidden, but when they went to the place of concealment here were snakes. Also, a rich man invited Fulk to supper but when the covers were lifted from dishes, platters of toads.
Once he undertook to upbraid King Richard, exhorting him to disinherit his three daughters. To which Richard answered that he had no daughters.
Nay, said Fulk. Thou hast three. Pride. Gluttony. Sensuality.
Ah, said Richard, whose tongue was quick. I bequeath pride to the Templars, gluttony to the Cistercians, sensuality to the clerics.
His Holiness Innocent, told of Franks clamoring for this curate’s message, despatched an ambassador from Rome authorizing Fulk to preach a new crusade, authorizing him to enlist both white and black monks. Further, His Holiness provided an indulgence offering remission of sin for those who took the cross.
In the year of our Lord 1199, on the twenty-eighth of November, an illustrious crowd of nobles assembled at the tourney of Écri-sur-Aisne. They meant to exploit their courage in front of the ladies, to enjoy feasting, minstrelsy, and other delights. Tapestries draped the route of procession, standards unfurled in the breeze. Pennons fluttered from the tips of lances, argent, sable, purpure, vert, gules. Trumpets blared. But suddenly, with all prepared to joust, here came a priest into the lists and preached such a sermon that one by one the knights laid down their weapons, removed their helms of state. One by one they knelt before this curate Fulk and took the cross. Among these were Comte Tibald de Champagne, Comte Louis de Blois, and my father’s brother, Geoffrey de Joinville. With such men of rank committed, enthusiasm mounted like waves heralding a storm.
Some felt reluctant to make the journey for lack of funds. Yet is it not better to follow Jesus Christ despoiled than go upon Satan’s track with a mighty household? Some hesitated through precarious health, or fear. Some like domestic fowl preferred the roost at night. Some like fat palfreys wished to spend their lives at the stable. Others like Flemish cattle, each with a rope about its neck, would stand patiently beside the shed. Again, some were like river fish that turn back when they sniff the open sea, which is vast and fails to compromise. Yet be it said that each true knight looks toward the Holy Land as home, does
