Chapter XXVIII: William of Tyre—barbarossa

With the news of the fall of Jerusalem came William, Archbishop of Tyre (the chief chronicler for this time), to stir up Europe to avenge the great disaster. This man possessed powers of speech equal to those of his pen. He appeared before an assembly near Gisors, where were gathered the bravest knights of England and France under their respective kings, Henry II. and Philip Augustus. These monarchs had laid aside the arms they were bearing against each other, that they might hear the appeal to holier warfare. The presence of such royalty did not restrain the fiery and indignant eloquence of William of Tyre. He cried, “To meet you here I have traversed fields of carnage. But whose blood have you been shedding? Why are you armed with these swords? You are fighting here for the banks of a river, for the limit of a province, for transient renown, while Infidels trample the banks of Siloam. Does your Europe no longer produce warriors like Godfrey and Tancred?” Even the blood of Henry II., poisoned as it was with many sins, felt the ardor of the appeal. He embraced his foe, Philip Augustus, with tears, while they together put on the badge of the cross. Princes and nobles followed the royal example, foremost among them Richard, then Duke of Guienne. Upon those who did not enlist was imposed a tax of one tenth of the value of their property, to be annually continued in a tenth of their incomes. This, in attestation of the terror inspired by the arms of the Saracen, was called “Saladin’s tithe.” The appeals of William of Tyre were supported by the pastoral letters of Pope Gregory VIII., which promised to all who should “undertake the labor of this expedition ... plenary indulgence for their offences and eternal life; ... and no person is to make any claim against the property of which, on assuming the cross, they were in quiet possession; ... they are not to pay interest to any person if they have so bound themselves.” The Pope further ordered a Lenten fast on every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, to appease the wrath of Heaven for sins, adding that the papal household would also abstain from flesh on Mondays.

The entire ritual of worship became infected with militarism and fear of the common enemy beyond the sea. In 1188 the Pope ordained that prayer against the Saracens should be offered everywhere daily. In the Church of St. Paul a recognition of the distressful condition was introduced into the liturgy. On Sundays there was read the psalm beginning, “Why do the heathen rage?” On Mondays, “Save us, O God, by Thy name.” On Tuesdays, “O God, why hast Thou forsaken us?” On Wednesdays, “O God, why hast Thou cast us off forever?” On Thursdays, “O God, the heathen are come into Thine inheritance.” On Fridays, “God standeth in the congregation of the mighty.” On Saturdays, “O Lord God, to whom vengeance belongeth, show Thyself.”

The peace between Henry II. and Philip Augustus made under the crusader enthusiasm, like other sudden excitements of religious emotion, did not long continue. A believer in the doctrine of the perseverance of the saints would hardly expect to find its proof in the house of Anjou, save by its exceptions. The recklessness of Richard again embroiled his father and the French king in war. An attempt to restore the truce on the same “sacred field” of Gisors where it had been solemnly enacted failed, and Philip Augustus cut down the elm-tree under which they had sworn it, that nature might not taunt them with their perjury. Saladin’s tithe was first devoted not against the Infidels, but to the infidelity of Christians in warring with one another, and was ominous of much of the subsequent use of that treasure. Rome excommunicated Richard, who drew his sword upon the papal legate that announced to him the decree. Philip as quickly repelled the interference of the spiritual power with what he deemed the more sacred right of conducting his own quarrels. It required the opportune intervention of a thunder-storm to shake the worldly purpose of Henry II., who, in genuine terror at the voice of heaven, at length agreed to peace.

In the meanwhile William of Tyre had electrified Germany with his appeals. The old emperor, Frederick I., took the cross, together with many of his chief nobles, including his son, Frederick, Duke of Swabia.

Frederick I., called Barbarossa by his Italian enemies because of his red beard, was the most astute statesman, the most experienced general, and the most powerful of the crowned heads of Europe during the twelfth century. He had been thirty-seven years on the throne of Germany. Though not altogether successful in his strifes with the popes, he had been able to consolidate his empire and extend its prestige. Now, at sixty-seven years of age, the peace of his dominion offered him the most envied imperial honors and the quiet ending of his days; but his heroic soul forgot the fatigue of age; he spurned the enjoyments of his palace when he heard the call for new adventures. He was the first _en route_ for Palestine; indeed, had completed his ill-fated expedition before the younger princes of the West were afield.

The array of Frederick reflected the dignity of its commander. It was under careful, even stringent discipline; camp followers were unwelcome; no women were allowed in the expedition. This was a grievance to many of the fair sex, whose love would have led them to accompany their husbands, or whose adventurous instinct prompted them to put on armor; but the order rid the army of the throng of immoral creatures who were accustomed to attach themselves to the crusading masses. The usual crowd of paupers who became soldiers only to better their condition, and bands of pilgrims who sought safe convoy to the sacred shrines, were ordered out of the ranks, only those being allowed to start who showed possession of sufficient money to maintain themselves for two years.

In true chivalric spirit, the veteran warrior of the West sent to Saladin his royal challenge before proceeding to battle. His letter was true to the times also in that it showed the customary bravado of the knight, entering the lists with self-laudation, and hurling scorn at the visor of his antagonist. “We, Frederick, by the grace of God, Emperor of the Romans, ever August, the Magnificent Triumpher over the enemies of the empire, to the Illustrious Saladin, Governor of the Saracens.... Thou hast profaned the Holy Land, over which we, by the authority of the eternal King, bear rule.... God willing, you shall learn by experience the might of our victorious eagles.” Then Frederick lists the nations in his following: “The towering Bavarian, the cunning Swabian, the cautious Franconian, Saxony that sports with the sword, the active Brabantine, the Lorrainer, unused to peace, the fiery Burgundian, the nimble mountaineer of the Alps, the Friesian, with his javelin and thong, the Bohemian, ever ready to brave death, Polonia, fiercer than her own fierce beasts,” etc. “And, lastly, also, you shall be taught how our own right hand, which you suppose to be enfeebled by old age, can still wield the sword.”

Saladin, in turn, outdid his challenger in courtesy if not in bravado. “To the Great King, his sincere friend, the Illustrious Frederick, ... in the name of God the merciful.... You enumerate those who are leagued with you, but if we wished to enumerate those with us, the list could not be reduced to writing. With us are the Bedouins, alone sufficient to cope with you; the Turkomans, unaided able to destroy you; our peasants, able to despoil and exterminate you; the warlike Soldarii, by whom we have already beaten you. These and all the kings of Islam are with me; Babylon, with its dependencies, the land of Damascus, and Jerusalem on the sea-coast, ... and the land of Sudia, with its provinces. If you wish for war, we will meet you in the power of the Lord; but if you wish for peace, we will restore to you the holy cross, and liberate all Christian captives, and permit pilgrims to come freely and do them good. And may Allah give us counsel!” A rumor was current, based, doubtless, upon the clemency of Saladin to the Christians, that he was himself contemplating conversion to the faith of Europe. His letter to Frederick was its sufficient refutation, even without its closing invocation, “May God save our Prophet, Mohammed!” He emulates the conceit of his antagonist by signing himself, possibly with a touch of sarcasm, “Saladin, Illustrious Lord, Victorious King, Adorner of the standard of truth, Corrector of the world,” etc.

This seeming bombast was not peculiar to these potentates. The Greek emperor, Isaac Angelus, styled himself “The Most Sublime, Most Powerful Emperor, the Angel of the whole earth.” Isaac, however, possessed no personal qualities worthy of commendation. He inherited, together with the conceit, the cowardice and treachery of the whole line of Greek monarchs. He wrote to Frederick, promising aid, and at the same time made alliance with Saladin. Nicetas, the Greek historian of this period, admits against his nation that Isaac broke the treaties, impeded the roads, and diverted provisions from his German allies. At Adrianople he laid ambush for their scouts. The veteran Frederick, incensed at this treatment, made a bloody retaliation upon a detachment of Greeks. This brought Isaac to terms. His friendship was measured by a flotilla of fifteen hundred ships and twenty-six galleys, which he prepared for the speedy transportation of the Germans beyond the Marmora and out of menacing distance of his capital.

Kilidge-Arslan had sent fifty Moslem knights to meet Frederick on the way, and to pledge his friendship, but when the army reached Iconium it was discovered that this had been only a device to delay the emperor. Frederick taught the Moslems that he was in no mood to be trifled with, by suddenly assaulting and capturing the city. Pressing onward, the Germans had daily to meet the guerilla attacks of the Infidels. Their provisions were destroyed as fast as gathered. Water was scarce, only the stagnant pools in fever-impregnated marshes affording palliation to thirst. The soldiers at times killed their horses and drank their blood. Yet the discipline was strictly maintained. No crime went unpunished. It was evident that a stronger hand was guiding the crusaders than had before been felt. The Armenian patriarch wrote to his friend Saladin, warning him of the extraordinary type of man with whom he had to deal. Christian and Turk awaited the issue of the campaign with respective hope and solicitude.

In spite of all obstacles, the Germans made a triumphant march almost to the borders of Syria. The pure water of the river Selef, which flows by the walls of Seleucia, tempted the conqueror to bathe. Seized with cramps, he was carried away by the hurrying current. At length he was dragged from the water, but was in dying condition. Tradition says that on a rock near this spot was carved this prediction: “Hic hominum maximus peribit.” If the omen be fabulous, the description is correct, for Frederick Barbarossa remains in history as one of the “greatest of men.” William of Tyre, in his eulogy, translates his spirit to heaven, while the Arabian historian, Omad, tells us with equal confidence that the angel of death carried his soul to hell.

The German host, now led by the feebler hand of his son, Frederick of Swabia, succeeded in reaching Antioch with less than seven hundred horse and five thousand foot, a retinue scarcely sufficient to do honor to the remains of the grand old hero, which they there buried in the Church of St. Peter.

In June, 1190, the English and French made preparation to follow their unfortunate forerunner. It was not, however, until a year later that they arrived in Palestine.

The movements of Saladin, in the meanwhile, engrossed the fears of the Christian world. After capturing Jerusalem he attacked Tyre. The bravery of the defence was supplemented by the timely arrival of Conrad, whose father, the Marquis of Montferrat, Saladin held prisoner. Conrad had already made his name famous for valor. For his assistance of the Greek emperor against seditions in Constantinople he had won the title of Cæsar and the hand of the emperor’s sister. Saladin endeavored to divert him by threatening to kill his father unless he relinquished the defence of Tyre. Conrad’s reply was noteworthy: “The life of my father is less dear to me and to him than the cause we both serve.” Saladin was forced to give up the siege. He turned against Tripoli. Aided by Admiral Margarit, whom the King of Sicily had sent with a fleet and who had won the titles of “King of the Sea” and the “New Neptune,” the Tripolitans successfully resisted. Saladin then assailed Carac, which was forced to yield to the Moslem chief. He granted its defenders their liberty, and restored to them their wives and children, whom, in an hour of deathly fear, they had sold as slaves to Saladin rather than see them the victims of such ravages as usually followed the capture by the common soldiery. King Guy of Jerusalem had been released from imprisonment by Saladin on condition that he would leave Palestine and return to Europe. Guy paid no respect to his oath, but, gathering the loyal remnant of his kingdom, laid siege to Ptolemaïs (Acre), there inaugurating a contest which, for its duration and the fame of the great chieftains engaged in it, was the most noted in the sad annals of the third crusade.