War Crime or a Strategic Military Decision? The massacre at Acre, August 20, 1191

by Charlene Newcomb


Surely one of the saddest, most horrible, and notorious events of the Third Crusade occurred on August 20, 1191. When Acre surrendered to Christian forces in July 1191 after a two-year siege, negotiators from within the city agreed to terms that included the return of Christian hostages and a fragment of the True Cross - captured by Saladin at the Battle of Hattin in 1187 - and payment to secure the release of Muslim hostages. Saladin was not involved in the negotiations, and contemporary accounts provide no evidence that the Muslin leader actually agreed to the conditions set on his behalf. There is no doubt Saladin knew the terms and used delay tactics whether to better position his troops or to stall the Christians' march to Jerusalem. In the words of chronicler Geoffrey de Vinsauf, Saladin “sent constant presents and messengers to King Richard to gain delay by artful and deceptive words.” The deadline was extended in hopes Saladin would come through.

What is clear: the terms of the surrender were not met. Twenty-seven hundred hostages were executed under orders issued by Richard the Lionheart.

Richard’s decision has been a cause for debate for centuries. In today’s world, this would be a war crime of huge magnitude. In 12th century warfare, the execution of hostages was not uncommon, though in many situations, hostages were kept under house arrest – sometimes for years –  or sold as slaves.

Richard’s dilemma: where do you house 2,700 hostages? How do you keep them fed when you must feed your own army? How many guards would it take to ensure the captives would not escape? With the departure of King Philip of France, Duke Leopold of Austria, and many of their supporters that summer, Richard needed nearly every able-bodied soldier on the coming pilgrimage to secure Jerusalem.

Why didn’t Richard sell his hostages? That would take time. It was already mid-August. The army needed to begin the march to Jerusalem or else run the risk of being caught by winter storms.

Based on morals and the conduct of war in the 12th century, are these excuses or valid reasons to execute close to 3,000 prisoners?

I was surprised that contemporary observers had very little to say about the executions. It is incredible to read the accounts of wholesale slaughter generally described in such nonchalant terms.

Roger de Hoveden writes:

On the seventeenth day of the month of August, being the third day of the week and the thirteenth day before the calends of September, the king of England caused all the pagans who belonged to him from the capture of Acre to be led out before the army of Saladin, and their heads to be struck off in the presence of all . . .

De Hoveden does provide more detail than most chroniclers and further along that passage he describes what the Christians did to the bodies. It is horrific, and I won't repeat it here. He then continues:

On the twenty-first day of the month of August, after the slaughter of the pagans, the king of England delivered into the charge of Bertram de Verdun the city of Acre. . . On the twenty-second day . . . the king of England crossed the river of Acre with his army, and pitching his tents between that river and the sea, on the sea-shore between Acre and Cayphas, remained there four days.


The chronicler Geoffrey de Vinsauf writes:

. . . 2700 of the Turkish hostages [were] led forth from the city and hanged ; [King Richard's] soldiers marched forward with delight to fulfill his commands, and to retaliate, with the assent of the Divine Grace, by taking revenge upon those who had destroyed so many of the Christians with missiles and arbalests.

Ambroise writes:

Two thousand seven hundred, all

In chains, were led outside the wall,
Where they were slaughtered every one;
And thus on them was vengeance done.
For blows and bolts of arbalest.

Even Muslim contemporary writers have not provided us more than a few sentences about the event. Ibn al-Athir writes that Saladin and his emirs did not trust the Franks (the term used to denote the European Christians). Al-Athir felt that the crusaders intended 'treachery' and would not free the hostages even if Saladin met the demands. Al-Athir then notes:

On Tuesday 27 Rajab [20 August 1191] the Franks mounted up and came outside the city with horse and foot. The Muslims rode out to meet them, charged them and drove them from their position. Most of the Muslims they had been holding were found slain. They had put them to the sword and massacred them but preserved the emirs and captains and those with money. All the others, the general multitude, the rank and file and those with no money they slew.

The chronicler Baha' Al-Din writes:

Then they brought the Muslim prisoners whose martyrdom God had ordained, more than three thousand men in chains. They fell on them as one man and slaughtered them in cold blood, with sword and lance . . .

He is one of few contemporaries who comments on Richard's motives:

Many reasons were given to explain the slaughter. One was that they had killed as reprisal for their own prisoners killed before then by the Muslims. Another was that the King of England had decided to march on Ascalon and take it, and he did not want to leave behind him in the city a large number (of enemy soldiers). God knows best.

Richard justified his actions in a letter to the abbot of Clairvaux. This was war, and Saladin had not met his end of the agreement. Many of Richard's contemporaries and numerous scholars over the years have condemned the Lionheart for his decision. It was a brutal and unchivalrous act. Would Richard's reputation have suffered less if the besieged had chosen to fight to the bitter end? Those sieges did not end well for the losers: pillaging, burning, and killing. But the garrison at Acre had surrendered. Richard sought advice from his council, and seeing no alternatives if he intended to be at Jerusalem's gate before winter set in, he issued the orders.

Sources

Ambroise. The history of the holy war : Ambroise’s estoire de la guerre sainte. (Trans. by Ailes, M., & Barber, M.) Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2003.

De Hoveden, R. (1853). The annals of Roger de Hoveden, comprising the history of England and of other countries of Europe from A. D. 732 to A. D. 1201. (Henry T. Riley, Trans.). London: H. G. Bohn. (Original work published 1201?)

"Geoffrey de Vinsauf's itinerary of Richard I and Others, to the Holy Land" in Chronicles of the Crusades: contemporary narratives, compiled and edited by Henry G. Bohm. London: Kegan Paul, 2004.

Gillingham, J. (1978). Richard the Lionheart. New York: Times Books.

Ibn al-Athīr, ʻIzz al-Din. (2007). The chronicle of ibn al-athīr for the crusading period from al-kāmil fi’l-ta’rīkh. (Trans by Richards, D. S.) Aldershot ; Burlington, VT: Ashgate.

Ibn Shaddād, Bahāʼ al-Dīn. (2001) . The rare and excellent history of Saladin, or, al-Nawādir al-Sultaniyya wa’l-Mahasin al-Yusufiyya. (Trans by Richards, D. S.) Aldershot, Hants, England: Ashgate.

Siege of Acre By Blofeld of SPECTRE at en.wikipedia (Transfered from en.wikipedia) [Public domain], from Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ASiege_of_Acre.jpg

Richard the Lionheart Merry-Joseph Blondel [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ARichard_coeur_de_lion.jpg

"SaracensBeheaded" by Alphonse-Marie-Adolphe de Neuville - François Guizot (1787-1874), The History of France from the Earliest Times to the Year 1789, London : S. Low, Marston, Searle &

Rivington, 1883, p. 447. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:SaracensBeheaded.jpg#/media/File:SaracensBeheaded.jpg

This post was originally posted on English Historical Fiction Authors on Wednesday, August 19, 2015.

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Charlene Newcomb is the author of Men of the Cross and For King and Country, two historical adventures set during the reign of King Richard I, the Lionheart. For King and Country is an HNS Editors Choice, long listed for the 2017 HNS Indie Award. Men of the Cross was selected as an indieBRAG Medallion honoree in 2014..

Charlene is a member of the Historical Novel Society and a contributor and blog editor for English Historical Fiction Authors. She lives, works, and writes in Kansas. She is an academic librarian by trade, a former U.S. Navy veteran, and has three grown children.


Connect with Char: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon

Men of Harlech

by Judith Arnopp

copyright Judith Arnopp

Harlech castle stands proud on a rock on the edge of Snowdonia. It was raised by Edward I as part of his ring of fourteen stone strongholds to suppress and control the rebellious Welsh. Even now, some eight centuries later, the castle still reverberates with power.

copyright Judith Arnopp

By 1283 the Welsh were at last more or less conquered and Edward began to colonise the land with English. As his imposing castles went up, the native Welsh were evicted and replaced with English peasants, English tradesmen and English craftsman. Unsurprisingly Welsh resentment grew as strongly as the castles.

Rebellions followed, the first in 1287-8, in 1294, and another lasting from 1316-18. By the 1370’s the Welsh were still not totally vanquished but it was not until 1400 when the most serious revolt of all broke out. The leader of the revolt, Owain Glyndŵr, had previously led a conventional life, studying law at the Inns of Court in London, and serving with Richard II in France and Scotland.

In the late 1390s Glyndŵr’s neighbour, Baron Grey de Ruthyn, seized control of a parcel of land. Glyndŵr’s petition to the English parliament was ignored. In 1400 Lord Grey failed to inform Glyndŵr in time of a royal command to levy troops for Scottish border service, an act that put Glyndŵr at odds with the king. Lord Grey was a personal friend to Henry IV and Glyndŵr under no delusion as to the threat in which he stood.

 Ian West
CC-BY-SA-2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Glyndŵr, understandably fed up with the way he was treated, turned away from English authority and assumed his ancestral title of Prince of Powys. With a band of followers he launched an attack on Lord Grey’s territories.

Glyndŵr was declared an outlaw and his estates confiscated. In the years that followed the skirmishes grew into battles and outright war against the English crown. The Welsh grasped the opportunity to follow and serve a leader such as they’d been waiting for since the death of Llewellyn Fawr in 1240. Glyndŵr’s revolt spread until much of north and central Wales was in Welsh hands. The English king sent Henry ‘Hotpsur’ Percy to regain control of the country who issued an amnesty to all rebels with the exception of Glyndŵr and his cousins, Rhys and Gwilym ap Tudor.

In 1402 penal laws were issued by Parliament against Wales and the harsh anti-Welsh legislation, designed to establish English dominance, actually pushed even more Welshmen into revolt.

copyright Judith Arnopp

War is always brutal and the suffering of ordinary people is inevitable. The army burnt the towns around some of the castles to the ground and the death toll among the population was high. The battle of Stalling Down, reputedly lasting eighteen hours, resulted in defeat for the English. The English and Welsh armies met in a ravine and chronicles say that the blood was fetlock-deep.

In June the English force led by Sir Edmund Mortimer was defeated and Mortimer held hostage with Glyndŵr demanding a large sum for his safe return, but Henry refused to pay up. Mortimer retaliated against his king by forming an alliance with Glyndŵr and marrying one of his daughters.

By 1403 the revolt had spread right across Wales, and English resistance was reduced to a few isolated castles, walled towns and fortified manor houses. Welsh students at Oxford University abandoned their studies to join Glyndŵr; Welsh labourers and craftsmen resident in England abandoned their jobs and returned to Wales. Owain called on Welsh soldiers, seasoned by the English campaigns in France and Scotland, and Welsh archers and men-at-arms quit English service to offer support of their homeland. At this point Wales looked strong, the dream of an independent state within reach.

copyright Judith Arnopp

At the castles of Aberystwyth, Cricieth, Beaumaris, Caernafon and Harlech the English were caught in their own traps; the strongholds now isolated English outposts. After long sieges the castles fell into Welsh hands giving Glyndŵr control of central Wales, the run of the country.

Glyndŵr moved his family into Harlech and held court there, calling his first parliament (Cynulliard – gathering of all Wales) at Machynlleth. Tradition has it that he was crowned Prince of Wales at Harlech Castle in the presence of envoys from Spain, Scotland and France. He held two other parliaments, one in Dolgellau where he signed a treaty with France.

But by 1408 the dream began to fade. Some battles were lost in the east and south and Aberystwyth Castle fell, becoming the first British castle to be assaulted by the big guns.

Harlech was under siege again. The massive curtain walls were peppered with cannon balls; one canon named ‘The King’s Daughter’ is reported to have exploded. Today the castle gatehouse displays a number of stone cannon balls which are believed to date from this time.

Copyright Judith Arnopp

Ultimately Harlech was forced to surrender; Glyndŵr’s wife, daughters and grandchildren were taken prisoner. By 1410, Owain Glyndŵr was a fugitive, his dream of a free Wales shattered, his home and his family destroyed.  Glyndŵr himself faded from history. It is believed his last years were spent in Herefordshire near the manor of his daughter’s husband, Sir John Scudamore. Folklore has it that a horse was kept saddled day and night in case he needed to make a quick getaway.  He is believed to have died in 1416 but there is no burial site to mark his time on earth.

Today the name Owain Glyndŵr continues to resonate throughout Wales; there is hardly a town you can visit that does not bear his name, or his image. Every Welsh town, be it history or legend, has a story of Owain Glyndŵr.

There are many historical sites pertaining to the story of Owain Glyndŵr. A good starting point is the Owain Glyndŵr centre in Machynlleth: http://www.canolfanglyndwr.org/

The castles of Harlech, Aberystwyth, Beaumaris, Criccieth should not be omitted from any visit to Wales.

Judith Arnopp

By de:Benutzer:Rdb [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Judith Arnopp is the author of eight historical novels. Her early books Peaceweaver and The Song of Heledd are set in medieval Wales. She also writes novels set in the court of Henry VIII. For more information please visit the website: www.juditharnopp.com

The Last Lord of Deheubarth - Rhys ap Maredudd

by Judith Arnopp

Rhys was the son of Maredudd ap Rhys Gryg (d. 1271), Lord of Dryslwyn and Isabel, daughter of William (II) Marshal, Earl of Pembroke.

The gatehouse at Newcastle Emlyn
Judith Arnopp

The ruins of Newcastle Emlyn sit quietly on a pretty grassy hill on the edge of the market town. Surrounded by a loop in the river Teifi, fringed by trees, it is a favourite spot for picnickers, tourists and local teenagers. The flat land below that once rang with the sounds of battle is now the haunt of children, lovers, and dog walkers.

I have finished my lunch; I tidy away the wrappers, screw the lid back on to my flask and observe the other visitors to the castle mound. How many pause in their day to read the bright boards that tell the tale of the castle’s birth, the desperate battles that took place here for territory and control?

A few stop to read them, cast a quick eye across the landscape but only a minority detect the cries of battle, feel the fear, the strain of the trebuchet, the crash of stone on stone, steel on steel. The past is all around us, if you take the time you can still see it, you can hear it, you can almost feel it.

View from the castle: Stephen McKay
CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)
Wikimedia Commons

Newcastle Emlyn: Judith Arnopp

In 920 when Hywel Dda combined the former kingdoms of Dyfed and Seisyllwg under one rule, the kingdom of Deheubarth was born. After the Normans conquered Deheubarth in 1093 the descendants of the Welsh ruling family were allowed to hold some authority over Cantref Mawr and Ystrad Tywi, a truncated portion of the former kingdom. But in the 12^th century, during the time of Maredudd ap Gruffydd and Lord Rhys, Deheubarth briefly re-emerged.

In 1240 (or thereabouts) the king divided the lands around Emlyn and put them in the control of Maredudd ap Rhys Gryg and the Earl of Pembroke. The land to the west was to be controlled by the Earl from his castle at Cilgerran and, to defend his own territory, a ‘new’ castle was erected at Emlyn. Maredudd chose a good site on a steep sided hill where a loop in the river Teifi provided defence on three sides, access to the castle being a narrow strip of land from what is now the modern town of Newcastle Emlyn.

Unrest between the Welsh and supporters of the English crown continued to blight the area. Maredudd’s alliance with the English brought him into conflict with his fellow Welshmen, and in 1259 he was accused of treason against Llewellyn and imprisoned in Criccieth Castle for a time. After his death in 1271 the castle, along with Dryslwyn estates, passed to his son Rhys.

The gatehouse: Judith Arnopp

In 1277 Rhys submitted to King Edward, surrendering the castle of Dinefwr, but maintaining his control of Dryslwyn. In 1282 when Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffydd put forward ‘grievances’ on Rhys's behalf against the royal officers in West Wales, Rhys himself took no part in the revolt but gave assistance to Edward instead, collaborating on an attack on Llanbadarn and patrolling Ceredigion for the king. In return he was granted the homage of Welsh chieftains in north Carmarthenshire, but the peace was flimsy and not to last.

In June 1287 his relationship with the English soured and he revolted against King Edward. Rhys’ army ran amok, ravaging much territory in the west of Wales as far as Llanbadarn. In retaliation the English royal troops converged upon Rhys' other castle at Dryslwyn which quickly fell to them along with the new castle at Emlyn, but Rhys remained at large, harrying the English. Then, in a matter of months, in a surprise counter attack, he fell upon the 'new' castle and regained his hold on it.

Dryslywn Castle: Clare West
CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)
 Wikimedia Commons

The English swiftly assembled a large army at Dryslwyn and marched on the castle at Emlyn bringing with them a huge siege machine, a trebuchet hauled by sixty oxen. They also carried with them a supply of beach stones to hurl at the castle and bring it into submission. A siege ensued, but by the time they’d battered their way inside Rhys had fled and remained at large in the Welsh countryside for several years. He was finally captured and taken before the king at York where he was hung in 1292, ending native rule in Deheubarth forever.

The castle at Emlyn passed to the English crown and much of the surviving structure was erected in the early fourteenth century. Further improvements were made, including the addition of large windows by Rhys ap Thomas when the castle (along with many others) was gifted to him by Henry VII when he took the throne at Bosworth in 1485.

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Judith is the author of eight historical novels. Her early works Peaceweaver and The Song of Heledd are set in medieval Wales. She also writes novels set in the court of Henry VIII. For more information visit her webpage: www.juditharnopp.com.

Knocking Down the Walls - Catapulting Devices and the Trebuchet

 by Scott Higginbotham

There is a great crashing sound, preceded by a series of thuds, all sharp and bone-jarring.  Dust and loose mortar rain down on your exposed head, and you cough, hoping to clear your lungs.  Grit fills your eyes, and just when you gain your bearings and stumble to your feet the same sharp pounding repeats. 

Walls shift and glass shatters as the only world you know is bathed in a terrible hail of stones.  This couldn’t be happening.  It shouldn’t be happening.  Heavy blocks are loosened and fall onto tables and chests, and doors splinter as though the foundations of the earth are in peril.  The battlements are a storm of chaos and dust, but there is an unearthly moan just beyond bowshot.

Like a waking nightmare, giants groan in the morning haze.  Their long arms sweep and swivel on an axis, clawing huge stones from the earth to pummel your walls.  They never rest, and they never sleep.  They are immune to sword and arrow. Armored knights on their proud destriers have small chance at striking fear in the hearts of these wooden beasts.

The trebuchet was a medieval siege engine that could force a breach in a castle wall.  Fitted stone, no matter how stout doesn’t stand a chance under a determined assault.  If a siege tower or scaling ladder failed to give an army access to the battlements, and there were a host of factors that could affect that – terrain, weather, expendable soldiers – then a projectile-throwing device with a long range could make that a possibility.  A handful of engineers, a steady supply of stones, and patience are the main ingredients needed to topple a castle wall.

Trebuchet details - Public Domain from Wikimedia Commons

Other devices were used in siege warfare.  The ballista was similar to a giant crossbow and could fire a long, iron-tipped arrow over a long distance.  The sharp end could be wound with tow, soaked in pitch, and set ablaze to add to its destructive power.  However, it would be ineffective against a stone wall; rather, firing buildings within the walls would do the most damage.

A mangonel is a type of catapult fitted with a bowl-shaped cup on the end of a stout beam.  This beam would have been winched tight against rope having a certain amount of elasticity or by physically bending the beam.  This type of catapult had its energy stored in either the rope and/or the bend of the wood. As a result, the range was limited along with its lifespan.

By contrast, the trebuchet was different, owing to the fact that its range was longer and its energy was not stored in the curvature of the beam or the relative elasticity of the rope.  Rather, the potential is chiefly stored in the counterweight; the heavier the counterweight, the greater the force, velocity, and distance of the projectile.

A simplified description would depict a team of engineers winching the counterweight into the air and locking it into place while the payload would be deposited in the sling.  The projectile could range from heavy stones meant to punch through a wall or gatehouse, diseased animal carcasses or excrement for spreading disease or striking fear, or flaming pots of pitch for firing the bailey, thus causing a mass exodus and an opening of the gates.

The basics of this type of catapulting device are summarized as follows [1]
•    The machine is powered exclusively by gravity; most often directly by means of a counterweight, though sometimes indirectly (such as in a traction trebuchet).
•    Such force rotates a throwing arm, usually four to six times the length of the counterweight arm, to multiply the speed of the arm and, eventually, the projectile.
•    The machine utilizes a sling affixed to the end of the throwing arm, acting as a secondary fulcrum, to further multiply the speed of the projectile.

An intimate knowledge of a trebuchet’s inner workings and physics won’t necessarily help defeat a team of them that get wheeled or constructed outside of your walls.  In fact, knowing its raw power should cause you to shudder and perhaps sue for terms. Scott Higginbotham writes under the name Scott Howard and is the author of A Soul’s Ransom, a novel set in the fourteenth century where William de Courtenay’s mettle is tested, weighed, and refined, and For a Thousand Generations where Edward Leaver navigates a world where his purpose is defined with an eye to the future.  His new release, A Matter of Honor, is a direct sequel to For a Thousand Generations.  It is within Edward Leaver's well-worn boots that Scott travels the muddy tracks of medieval England.