Chapter XXVI: Battle of Tiberias—fall of Jerusalem

In the meantime Saladin had gathered into his hand the reins of Egypt and western Asia. In 1185 the Christians of Palestine sent an appeal for aid to all the courts of Europe. The imminence and magnitude of the danger led them to select the most important dignitaries as their messengers: Heraclius, the Patriarch of Jerusalem, together with the Grand Masters of the Hospitallers and Templars. The ambassadors offered the crown of Jerusalem to King Henry II. of England, presenting him with the keys of the Holy Sepulchre and of the tower of David. The appeal of the East was seconded by Pope Lucius, whose letter to Henry shows that Europe dreaded as much as it pretended to despise the new Moslem leader. The letter read: “For Saladin, the most inhuman persecutor, has arisen to such a pitch in his fury that, unless the vehement onset of his wickedness is checked, he may entertain an assured hope that all the Jordan will flow into his mouth, and the land be polluted by his most abominable superstitions, and the country once more be subjected to the accursed dominion of the most nefarious tyrant. By the sorrows thus imminent, we entreat your Mightiness with a palpitating heart,” etc. But neither King Henry’s conscience nor his hope of gaining a brighter crown in heaven was sufficient to lure him from projects nearer home.

Saladin quickly verified the Pope’s estimate of his ability. In May, 1187, he overthrew the Templars in a battle at Nazareth. With eighty thousand horse he then invested and crushed Tiberias on Galilee. The citadel of this place alone remained untaken. The Christians massed fifty thousand men on the plain of Hattîn, above the city, for one supreme endeavor. The boldest feared the result. The sight of the wood of the True Cross gave a martyr courage rather than hope of success. Raymond, whose bravery no man questioned, made an address to the assembled barons, counselling retreat. He said: “In this army is the only hope left to the Christians of the East. Here are gathered all the soldiers of Christ, all the defenders of Jerusalem. The archers of Saladin are more skilful than ours, his cavalry more numerous and better trained. Let us abandon Tiberias and save the army.” To lose that battle in the open plain would be, as Raymond foresaw, to lose everything. To retreat might force the enemy to fight against strongholds, when the advantage would be on the Christians’ side.

This discreet counsel of the veteran was derided by the Master of the Templars, who openly taunted Raymond with some secret alliance with Saladin. Raymond rejoined, “I will submit to the punishment of death if these things do not fall out as I have said.” The barons were for following the advice of the veteran, but King Guy, after various changes of mind, gave the fatal order for battle.

The day (July 4, 1187) was excessively hot. The Christians, worn out with the march, advanced to the fight, sustained chiefly by the desperation of their resolve. The Mussulmans occupied the vantage-ground on the hills which make the western shore of the Lake of Tiberias, and welcomed their adversaries’ approach with a furious discharge of arrows. Then suddenly, as lightning through a pelting storm, the white turbans and cimeters of the Saracen cavalry, led by Saladin in person, flashed across the field. In the language of the Arabic chronicler: “Then the sons of paradise and the children of fire settled their terrible quarrel. Arrows hurtled in the air like a noisy flight of sparrows, and the blood of warriors dripped upon the ground like rain.”

The True Cross, which had animated the Christians’ courage, was an occasion of their weakness; for, despairing of victory through their own valor, they sought the protection of the emblem of their religion. Saladin said afterwards that the Franks flew round the cross like moths round a light. Again and again the sultan drove his squadrons through the thickest ranks of his opponents, and would that day have sealed the Christians’ fate had not night given recess to the battle. During the darkness the Christians closed their ranks in dense array. The Saracens, having superior numbers, adopted the opposite plan and extended their lines, so that when morning broke they surrounded their antagonists on every side. The Christians in vain tried to break the cordon, which was steadily drawing closer and closer, limiting the space within it as one by one the doomed knights fell. The Saracens fired the grass of the plain. Swords flashed through the lurid smoke, and the bravest, whom arms could not daunt, dropped from suffocation. The Templars and Hospitallers maintained the battle all day long, rallying about the cross; but that symbol was ultimately taken. It was being borne by Rufinus, Bishop of Acre, when he fell, pierced with an arrow. Says a contemporary writer: “This was done through the righteous judgment of God; for, contrary to the usage of his predecessors, having greater faith in worldly arms than in heavenly ones, he went forth to battle equipped in a coat of mail.”

Guy was a captive, together with the Master of the Templars and many of the most celebrated knights, who had failed to find death, though they sought it. Raymond cut his way through the line of Saracens, who praised his amazing valor as they witnessed his exploit, while the Christians denounced him for connivance with the foe.

A scene followed which showed the temper of Saladin. The conqueror received King Guy and his surviving nobles in a manner to lessen, if possible, their chagrin for the disaster. He presented to the king a great goblet filled with drink, which had been cooled in the snows from the Lebanons. Having drunk from it, Guy passed the cup to Renaud, the man who had violated the truce in former years. Saladin could be magnanimous to a worthy antagonist. So great was his self-command that he observed the most punctilious etiquette even in the rage of a hand-to-hand fight. But to the false and treacherous he could show no mercy. The sight of the truce-breaker fired him with uncontrollable frenzy; he exclaimed, “That traitor shall not drink in my presence.” He gave Renaud the instant choice of death or acceptance of the religion of Mohammed. Renaud refused to subscribe the Koran. Saladin smote him with the side of his sabre, a mark of his contempt. At a signal a common soldier swirled his cimeter, and the head of Renaud fell at King Guy’s feet.

Towards the Templars and Hospitallers the sultan had conceived similar hatred from the conviction that they regarded their covenants with their enemies too lightly. As these knights of the white and the red cross were led past him Saladin remarked, “I will deliver the earth of these two unclean races.” He bade his emirs each slay a knight with his own hand. Neither the defenceless condition of the captives nor the protestation of his warriors against this cruelty produced any compunction in the breast of the resolute conqueror.

Four days later St. Jean d’ Acre fell under Saladin’s assault; but the people were spared and allowed to depart with all their movable property. The churches were converted into mosques, and resounded with prayers and thanksgiving to the Prophet. The yellow flag of Saladin soon floated from the walls of Jericho, Ramleh, Arsuf, Jaffa, and Beirut. Ascalon resisted for a while, in spite of the threats of the conqueror and the entreaty of his prisoner, King Guy, that the garrison should not prolong the useless conflict. The defenders of the city refused submission unless the victor should pledge the safety of the women and children and the liberty of the king. Saladin honored their bravery by acceding to these conditions, and Ascalon became his possession (September 4th).

Two weeks later (September 18th) his troops invested Jerusalem. Sending for the principal inhabitants, he said to them: “I, as well as you, acknowledge Jerusalem to be the house of God; I will not defile its sanctity with blood if I can gain it by peace and love. Surrender it by your Whitsuntide, and I will bestow upon you liberty to go where you will, with provisions in plenty and as much land as you can cultivate.” The reply of the Christians was valiant: “We cannot yield the city in which died our God; still less can we sell it to you.” Saladin then swore to avenge the slaughter perpetrated by the Christians upon the Moslems when, under Godfrey, the first crusaders had captured Jerusalem and massacred its inhabitants.

The assault was furious and met with equal valor. Within and without, the walls were fairly buttressed with the bodies of the fallen. It was not until the principal gate was undermined, the ramparts tottering, and the soldiers of Saladin occupying some of the towers, that Balian d’Iselin, the commandant, proposed to accept the conditions the Christians had rejected before the fight. “It is too late,” replied Saladin, pointing to his yellow banners, which proclaimed his occupancy of many places along the walls. “Very well,” replied Balian; “we will destroy the city. The mosque of Omar, and the mysterious Stone of Jacob which you worship, shall be pounded into dust. Five thousand Moslems whom we retain shall be killed. We will then slay with our own hands our wives and children, and march out to you with fire and sword. Not one of us will go to paradise until he has sent ten Mussulmans to hell.” Saladin again bowed to the bravery which he might have punished, and accepted the capitulation (October 2, 1187).

The Christian warriors were permitted to retire to Tripoli or Tyre, cities as yet unconquered by Saladin. The inhabitants were to be ransomed at a nominal sum of money for each. Many, however, in their poverty could not produce the required amount. The fact, reported to the victor, led to a deed on his part which showed his natural kindliness, together with the exactness of his rule. The ransom money could not be remitted; it belonged of right to the men whose heroism had been blessed of Allah in taking the city. Saladin and his brother, Malek-Ahdel, paid from their own purses the redemption money for several thousand Christians, who otherwise, according to the usages of war, would have become the slaves of their conquerors.

On the day for the evacuation of the city Saladin erected his throne at the Gate of David to review the wretched army of the vanquished as it passed out. First came the patriarch and priests, carrying the sacred vessels and treasures of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Next followed Queen Sibylla with the remnant of her court. Saladin saluted her with great courtesy, and added words of seemingly genuine consolation as he noted her grief. Mothers carried their children, and strong men bore the aged and sick in their arms. Some paused to address the sultan, asking that members of their families from whom they were separated might be restored to them. Saladin instantly ordered that in no case should children be separated from their mothers, nor husbands from their wives. He permitted the Hospitallers to remain in the city on condition of their resuming those duties which their order was originally instituted to perform, and committed to them the care of the sick who could not endure being removed. Many writers are disposed to analyze the motives of Saladin and to attribute his clemency to politic foresight in subduing the hatred as well as the arms of his enemies. But surely the annals of war are too barren of such acts of humanity to allow us to mar the beauty of the simple narration; and the virtues of Christians in such circumstances have not been so resplendent that they may not emulate the spirit of one who was their noblest foe.

The new lord of Jerusalem purged the sacred city of what to him was the taint of idolatry, the worship of Jesus. The mosque of Omar on the temple site was washed within and without with rose-water. The pulpit which Nourredin had made with his own hands was erected by the side of the mihrab, towards which the people prayed as indicating the direction of Mecca. The chief imam preached from it on the glories of Saladin, “the resplendent star of Allah,” on the redemption of Jerusalem, from which Mohammed had made his miraculous night journey to Mecca, and on the holy war, which must be continued until “all the branches of impiety should be cut” from the tree of life.

The joy of the Moslem world had its refrain in the wails of Europe. It is said that Pope Urban III., on hearing the news, died of a broken heart. The minstrels composed lamentations as the captives did by the rivers of Babylon. Courts and churches were draped in mourning. The superstitious saw tears fall from the eyes of the wooden and stone saints that ornamented the churches. The general gloom was described by one who felt it as “like the darkness over the earth from the sixth to the ninth hour, when Christ was crucified.”