Richard the Lionheart’s Peacemaker

by Helena P. Schrader

Richard the Lionheart's Tomb at Fontevrault, France

In an earlier entry, I wrote about Richard the Lionheart’s successes in the Holy Land, stressing his exceptional logistical planning, his battlefield bravery and his strategic competence. Not only did he transport an army 10,000 strong across vast distances in fragile wooden ships, he kept that army supplied and fed for nearly three years in the extreme weather conditions of the Holy Land. He may have alienated his fellow commanders, notably Philip II of France and the Duke of Austria, but he won the loyalty of the common soldiers and knights by his exceptional personal bravery and his willingness to build walls or dig ditches beside them. While he led from the front, he took the disheartening decision not to take Jerusalem — despite being in sight of the Holy City — not autocratically or alone but rather in council with representatives from every contingent in his motley army.

But when it was clear that all his bravery and all the sacrifices made by his soldiers was not enough to secure Jerusalem, Richard the Lionheart found himself trapped in a dilemma. News had already reached him that his own kingdom was at risk. His younger brother John was plotting with his arch-enemy, Philip II of France, to take England and the rest of the Angevin empire away from him. He knew he had to return home as soon as possible. But to just pack up and leave as Philip of France had done before him was to risk the loss of all he had achieved in the Holy Land. After all, he had not only re-captured the vital city of Acre, he had established Christian control of the entire coastline from Antioch to Ascalon. This Christian foothold in the Holy Land was vital if there was ever to be a chance of regaining Jerusalem for Christendom. While we may look back with the wisdom of hindsight and say this was a false hope, it was nevertheless a goal that Richard I clung to passionately. He left the Holy Land vowing to return and take up the fight again.

A 19th Century depiction of Richard I Embarking for the Crusades

What Richard the Lionheart needed after the second failed attempt on Jerusalem in January 1192 was a truce — a means to end the fighting while recognizing the status quo. Only this would enable him to return to the West to defend his birthright without endangering the fragile Christian states along the Levant. He had to convince Saladin, who could not defeat Richard on the battlefield but still had the vast preponderance of forces, not to take advantage of Richard’s departure to devour (for a second time) the Christian cities along the coast of the Mediterranean.  

Saladin held all the cards. He could afford to wait until Richard with his army of crusaders departed, and then defeat the remaining Christian forces. He knew both that Richard needed to return to defend his birthright and that his army was demoralized by the failure to take Jerusalem and eager to return home. It was obvious to him that the remaining Christian forces would be in a poor position to resist him. He had little incentive to negotiate at all.

Saladin as depicted in the 20th Century Fox Film "The Kingdom of Heaven"

It was at this moment that Richard turned to a man who had once before negotiated a life-saving agreement with Saladin when in an apparently hopeless situation: Balian d’Ibelin.  Balian was a native of “Outremer” — the land beyond the sea or what we know as the Holy Land. He had been born in the small and relatively insignificant barony of Ibelin around the middle of the 12^th century (the date is not recorded), the third son of the First Baron of Ibelin.  His elder brother Hugh inherited the small paternal inheritance and his other elder brother, Baldwin, inherited a much larger maternal inheritance to become Baron of Ramla, Mirabel and (at Hugh's death without children) Ibelin as well. Baldwin, however, was unable to reconcile himself to Guy de Lusignan's usurpation of the throne of Jerusalem in 1186. Baldwin chose to quit the Kingdom of Jerusalem, turning over his titles and lands to his son and naming his younger brother Balian the boy's guardian. Meanwhile, Balian had made a scandalously brilliant match, marrying none other than the Dowager Queen of Jerusalem and Byzantine Princess Maria Comnena. By this marriage he also become step-father to the youngest Princess of Jerusalem, Isabella.

With the departure of his brother, Balian was suddenly one of the most powerful barons in the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and he used this power to try to reconcile the usurper, Guy de Lusignan, with the most powerful baron in the Kingdom, Raymond of Tripoli, who at that point was refusing to do homage to Guy despite the clear and present danger posed by Saladin, who had declared jihad against the Christian kingdom. His efforts were successful, and Balian and Raymond both rallied behind Guy de Lusignan when he faced Saladin’s invasion of July 1187. Unfortunately, Guy led them and the entire Christian army to a disastrous defeat on the Horns of Hattin. Balian was one of the few Christian knights to lead a successful charge against the Saracens and effect a break-out.

Thirteenth Century Manuscript Illustration of Warfare

The destruction or capture of the bulk of the Christian army, however, left the Kingdom of Jerusalem undefended and Saladin followed up his victory at Hattin by capturing one city and castle after another until, by the start of September 1187, Saladin controlled the entire Kingdom of Jerusalem except some isolated castles, the city of Tyre and the greatest prize of all: Jerusalem. In Jerusalem were concentrated somewhere between 60,000 and 100,000 Christians; roughly 20,000 inhabitants and 40,000 to 80,000 refugees from the territories Saladin had just conquered. But there were no knights in Jersualem and no commander.  Saladin called a delegation from Jerusalem to Ascalon and offered to let those trapped in the city go free in exchange for the surrender of the city. The representatives of Jerusalem refused. According to Arab sources they said that Jerusalem was sacred to their faith and that they could not surrender it; they preferred martyrdom. Infuriated by their intransigence, Saladin vowed to slaughter everyone in the city if it defied him.

Among the refugees in the city of Jerusalem were Balian d’Ibelin’s wife, the Dowager Queen of Jerusalem, and his four young children. Balian had no intention of letting his wife and children be slaughtered, and so he approached Saladin and requested permission and a safe-conduct to ride to Jerusalem and remove his wife and children from harm. Saladin agreed on the condition that he ride to Jerusalem unarmed and stay only one night.

A Medieval Family

Balian had not reckoned with the reaction of the residents and refugees in Jerusalem. The arrival of a battle-tested baron was seen as divine intervention, and the Patriarch of Jerusalem no less than the citizens begged Balian to take command of the defenses. The Patriarch demonstratively absolved him of his oath to Saladin. Balian felt he had no choice. He sent word to Saladin of his predicament and Saladin graciously agreed to send 50 of his own men to escort Balian’s family to the County of Tripoli (still in Christian hands), while Balian remained to defend Jerusalem against overwhelming odds.

And defend Jerusalem he did.  After conducting foraging sorties to collect supplies for the population from the surrounding Saracen-held territory, he held off assaults from Saladin’s army from September 21 – 25 so successfully that Saladin was forced to withdraw and re-deploy his army against a different sector of the wall. On September 29, however, Saladin’s sappers successfully undermined a portion of the wall and brought down a broad segment of it. Jerusalem was no longer defensible.

 The breach occured to the east of this gate, now known as the Damascus Gate, then St. Stephen's Gate.

It was now that Balian proved his talent as a diplomat. With Saracen forces pouring over the breech and into the city, their banners flying from one of the nearest towers, Balian went to Saladin to negotiate. Saladin initially scoffed: one doesn’t negotiate the surrender of a city that has already fallen, he answered dismissively, pointing to his banners on the walls of the city. But at that moment the banners were thrown down and replaced again by the banners of Jerusalem, and Balian played his trump. If the Sultan would not give him terms, he and his men would not only kill the Muslim prisoners they held along with all the inhabitants of the city: they would desecrate and destroy the temples of all religions in the city, including the Dome of the Rock and the Al Asqa Mosque. Saladin gave in.  The Christians were given 40 days to raise ransoms of 10 dinars per man, 5 per woman and 2 per child. Although an estimated 20,000 Christians were still marched off into slavery at the end of the forty days, forty to sixty thousand Christians survived as free men and women thanks to Balian’s skill as a negotiator.

Richard of England needed those skills now, but he had a problem. On his arrival in the Holy Land, Richard had backed the claims of his vassal Guy de Lusignan to the throne of Jerusalem, while Balian staunchly defended the claims of his step-daughter and her husband Conrad de Montferrat. As a result, during the first two years of Richard’s presence in the Holy Land, Balian had been persona non grata in Richard’s court. In fact, he had served as an envoy for Conrad de Montferrat to the Sultan’s court — something Richard’s entourage and chroniclers viewed as nothing short of outright treason to the Christian cause.

Richard the Lionheart, however, was neither a fool nor a bigot. Knowing that only the barons and knights of Outremer could defend the territories he had conquered after he went home, and recognizing that Guy de Lusignan would never be accepted as King by the barons and knights of the Kingdom he had led to disastrous defeat, Richard dropped his support of Lusignan and recognized Isabella and her husband and the rightful rulers of Jerusalem in April 1192. By doing so, he also opened the doors to cooperation with Balian d’Ibelin. Soon thereafter, Richard employed him as a negotiator with Saladin, and in August Balian had successfully talked Saladin into a three year truce (neither side wanted peace for both were unsatisfied with the status quo) that provided for free access to Jerusalem for unarmed Christian pilgrims. Like the surrender of Jerusalem this was not a triumph, but it was also better than what might have otherwise been expected given the weakness of the Christian position. Most of all, it gave Richard what he wanted: an opportunity to return to the West to defend his birthright without the immediate loss of his gains in the Holy Land. And indeed his legacy in the Holy Land was to last not just three but 99 years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helena P. Schrader is the author of numerous works of history and historical fiction.  She holds a PhD in History from the University of Hamburg.  The first book of a three-part biographical novel of Balian d’Ibelin, who defended Jerusalem against Saladin in 1187 and was later one of Richard I’s envoys to Saladin, is now available for sale.  Read more at: http://helenapschrader.com or follow Helena’s blogs: Schrader’s Historical Fiction and Defending the Crusader Kingdoms.

A Biographical Novel of Balian d’Ibelin

Book I

A landless knight,

                A leper King

                                And the struggle for Jerusalem.

 Buy now in Paperback or Kindle format!

Richard I in the Holy Land

by Helena P. Schrader

A medieval depiction of Richard I of
England and King Philip II
of France during the Third Crusade

Richard I’s crusade to the Holy Land, 1190-1192, has often been criticized by historians.  First, it was hugely expensive, and Richard I resorted to a number of devious practices in order to finance it, including the sale of public offices and pressure that was little short of extortion.  Second, it took the king away from his kingdom for an extended period of time, during which his brother and the King of France plotted against him to the detriment of England and the rest of the Plantagenet territories.  Third, the rivalry and conflict over strategy during the crusade greatly exacerbated the tensions between Richard and Phillip of France, and Richard’s insult of the Duke of Austria led to the hostility of the latter that in turn resulted in Richard being held for ransom — again to great cost to Richard’s subjects. Thus, cumulatively, Richard’s crusade is viewed as being responsible for his long absence from his territories and a serious drain on the finances of his subjects.

To make matters worse, Richard singularly failed to achieve the objective of the crusade, which was the re-capture of Jerusalem and the restoration of the Holy City to Christian control. The fact that the crusading army came within just a few miles of Jerusalem only to retreat twice has further tarnished Richard’s reputation in history. In short, Richard sacrificed the prosperity of his own subjects and the security of his kingdom for “nothing.”

  The elusive goal: Jerusalem 

Aside from the fact that it is rather unfair to blame Richard for the treachery of his brother, the King of France and the Duke of Austria, his accomplishments in the Holy Land also need to be reassessed. As I pointed out in an earlier essay, Richard’s conquest of the Island of Cyprus enabled it to become the bread-basket and recruiting base of the remaining crusader states for a hundred years. Yet even more important, it protected the shipping lanes from Western Europe to the Near East, Egypt and Constantinople for more than 300 years. Cyprus was thus vital to the prosperity of the Italian city-states and played a major, if indirect, role in the flourishing of science, technology, philosophy and art that was to become known as the Renaissance.

But Richard’s accomplishments in the East did not end with the conquest of Cyprus. Richard’s role was decisive in re-capturing the critical port city of Acre from the Saracens. Acre had always been the principal gateway from the West to the Kingdom of Jerusalem and it was to remain the commercial heart of Western presence in the Holy Land for another hundred years.

The harbor of Acre as it appears today.

Nor did Richard’s accomplishments in the Holy Land end with the re-capture of Acre.  Within two years he had re-established Christian control over the entire coastline from Jaffa to Antioch. Although reduced to roughly ¼ of the territory held by the Latin Christians before the Battle of Hattin, the remnants of the crusader states in the Eastern Mediterranean kept the pilgrimage traffic alive and so fostered the exchange of goods and ideas and the development of naval resources so vital to Western economic prosperity and intellectual development — particularly for the Italian city-states.

So Richard I’s accomplishments in the Holy Land were far from insignificant economically and culturally. Nor should their pure military significance be under-estimated. Richard I transported an army of roughly 10,000 men across a vast distance in wooden ships powered by sail and oar. He then commanded a multi-national force composed not only of his own diverse subjects (English, Normans, Angevins, Gascons etc.) but of French, Flemish, Germans, Scandinavians and natives of the crusader kingdoms. He organized highly complex amphibious operations and logistical support for his forces in hostile terrain, and he beat the legendary Saladin in every single engagement in which they confronted each other. That is quite an accomplishment!

A medieval fresco depicting Richard
jousting with Saladin; although they faced
one another man-to-man, Richard was the
victor on every battlefield they contested.

It was largely Richard’s personal bravery in an almost endless series of engagements in the Holy Land that earned him his legendary fame, yet as David Miller points out in his sober analysis of Richard’s military capabilities, Richard the Lionheart: The Mighty Crusader, it was really Richard’s careful planning, exceptional logistical organization, and rational strategic thinking that set him apart from the bulk of his contemporaries. Richard I of England would never — never — have let his army march and camp without water nor have exposed his army to encirclement on a field of the enemy’s choosing as Guy de Lusignan did at the Battle of Hattin. Richard ensured that his troops — and his horses — always had enough supplies to be “fighting fit,” and he knew how to integrate infantry and cavalry so that the advantages of both could be utilized. Last but not least, he led by example, not just fighting at the forefront, but doing menial labor like building walls alongside the lowliest of his soldiers as well. That is what makes a great commander.

Without going into greater detail, it is fair to say that Richard was a superb soldier, a brilliant tactician, a sound strategist and a great military leader. He was also astonishingly adept at finance — as not only the financing of his extraordinary expedition across land and sea with 10,000 men shows, but the fact that he could convert his successes like Cyprus into cash as well. Richard remained solvent throughout the crusade, able to hire more men, mercenaries and even the knights of his rivals, while the latter went into debt.

Last but not least, Richard’s diplomatic skills should not be under-estimated.  Despite his ability to defeat Saladin militarily whenever he chose to fight, nothing could alter the fundamental imbalance of forces in the Holy Land. The decision not to capture Jerusalem was taken twice in council with representatives elected from all the contingents fighting under Richard’s command.  The decision was based on a sound assessment of the chances of holding Jerusalem once it had been seized.  Jerusalem was too far from the sea for Western naval superiority to be brought to bear, which meant that it could be cut off from supplies and reinforcements at any time. Richard argued, and persuaded his followers, that the capture of Jerusalem would be costly and short-lived because no sooner would the crusaders have gone home (as they all longed to do) than the city would fall again to the Saracens. Saladin knew this as well as Richard did, so it is a tribute to Richard’s skills as a diplomat that he managed to secure at least free, unmolested access to the Holy City for Christian pilgrims even after his departure.

In the final analysis, Richard may not be one of England’s greatest kings. Philip II, who could never match Richard in tactical and strategic competence much less courage on the battlefield, systematically defeated Richard and his heirs politically.  While Richard failed to expand his inheritance, John lost most of his father’s French territories to the Capets within a quarter century of Henry II’s death and even faced a French invasion of England in 1216.  It would be a century before an English King would again successfully lay claim to French soil under Edward III and his even more impressive son, Edward of Woodstock, the Black Prince. Yet Richard the Lionheart’s defense of the Holy Land and his success in stabilizing the situation and enabling a crusader presence in the Eastern Mediterranean until the 16^th century was a major contribution to the development of Western civilization as we know it.

Furthermore, while contemporary historians deride the notion of “Good King Richard” from traditional Robin Hood lore, medieval man did remember him with affection.  His example of military prowess combined with judicious leadership and good rapport with his common soldiers had an impact on English perceptions of “good governance” that should not be under-estimated even if they are no longer politically correct.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helena P. Schrader is the author of numerous works of history and historical fiction.  She holds a PhD in History from the University of Hamburg.  The first book in a three-part biographical novel of Balian d’Ibelin, who defended Jerusalem against Saladin in 1187 and was later one of Richard I’s envoys to Saladin, is now available for sale.  Read more at: http://helenapschrader.com or follow Helena’s blogs: Schrader’s Historical Fiction and Defending the Crusader Kingdoms.

Knight of Jerusalem
       A landless knight,

                   a leper king,

                              and the struggle for Jerusalem.

A Biographical Novel of Balian d’Ibelin

Book I

Buy now in Paperback or Kindle format!

Richard I’s Greatest Conquest

by Helena P. Schrader

Tomb of Richard I in Fontevrault

Richard I has gone down in history as the “Lionhearted” because of his military prowess, but most of his victories were ephemeral. The bulk of the Angevin Empire was lost in the reign of his brother and successor John, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem that Richard salvaged from obliteration in 1191-1192 was wiped off the map roughly a century after his death. But one conquest, an almost incidental conquest, proved enduring:  it was the conquest of Cyprus in 1191. In just four weeks, Richard I seized control of the entire island, and within a year he had established a Latin kingdom that endured almost four hundred years until the second half of the 16^th century.  

As so often with the Angevins, fact is far more dramatic than I would dare to make my fiction! Here is the story of how Richard came to conquer Cyprus.

In 1191, after a tempestuous winter on Sicily, Richard I of England and his assembled crusader army of vassals and mercenaries set sail for the Holy Land.  Philip II, also on crusade, had quarreled with Richard on Sicily and proceeded with his contingent of crusaders without the English/Angevin forces. Richard’s fleet set sail on April 1, but encountered a storm that blew the vessels off course and scattered the fleet.  

Richard’s galley eventually made safe harbor on the island of Rhodes on April 22, but the ship carrying his betrothed, Princess Berengaria of Navarre, and his sister Joanna, the widowed Queen of Sicily, was missing.  When Richard was well enough (he fell ill at Rhodes) and his ships were again seaworthy, he set out once more for the Holy Land collecting his fleet as he went.  He sailed deliberately for Cyprus, the largest of the islands in the eastern Mediterranean in the hope that many of his missing ships, including the one with his bride and sister, might have found refuge there.

And indeed they had, but their reception had been far from welcoming. The survivors of two large ships wrecked on Cyprus, far from receiving the charity expected of a Christian monarch (Cyprus was ruled at this time by a self-styled Byzantine “Emperor”) were – in Richard’s own words – “robbed and despoiled.”  

The ship carrying the royal ladies had avoided shipwreck, but in distress had taken refuge in the harbor of Limassol.  The knights aboard this vessel somehow received word of what had happened to their comrades, and Joanna of Plantagenet (a woman who deserves a novel of her own!) was clearly not buying the assurances offered by “Emperor” Isaac Comnenus about her safety.  She smelt a rat and stayed aboard her damaged vessel.

Thus when Richard sailed into Limassol harbor on the evening of May 5, he found his bride-to-be and sister in a precarious situation aboard an unseaworthy vessel running out of water but afraid of being held for ransom or worse if they went ashore.  Richard responded as could only be expected of the proud Plantagenet: he attacked.

The exact sequence of events varies according to which chronicle one follows.  One version has Richard order his galleys to break through a blockade of ships at the mouth of Limassol harbor and then storm ashore on foot, without waiting for horses to be off-loaded.  Another version claims he landed on a beach beyond Limassol harbor against opposition, and then took Limassol from landward, again without horses. 

In either case,  Isaac Comnenus was not captured with the city, and so the English King and the Byzantine “Emperor” faced off in battle at a location sometimes identified as Kolossi, the later site of a lovely Hospitaller commandery.

 The Hospitaller Commandery at Kolossi

Where ever the battle was, Richard put the forces of Isaac Comnenus to flight with no casualties of his own because, as at the earlier engagements, the self-styled “Emperor” enjoyed little support among the population.  He had been appointed (if at all) by a Byzantine Emperor, who had himself since been deposed.  Furthermore, his despotic rule had earned him only the hatred of the native population. In short, Richard the Lionheart did not need much of his vaunted military skill to win a victory here. 

After Isaac had surrendered to him, Richard returned to Limassol and on May 12 married Berengaria and had her crowned Queen of England. The exact location is unknown, and several churches in Limassol claim the honor.

This Templar Church in Famagusta is of a later date, but incorporated some architectural features typical of the Byzantine churches on the island.

Since Richard was in a hurry to get to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, where only the city of Tyre remained in Christian hands although a Christian siege of Muslim held Acre was underway, he probably would have sailed shortly after this happy event if Isaac Comnenus had not made the mistake of breaking his promise to sail with Richard on crusade. In fact, Isaac fled to the mountains in a transparent attempt to re-establish his rule of the island, and Richard responded by an all-out campaign of conquest – which again took little time or effort because of the hostility of the population to Isaac Comnenus. 

After landing at Famagusta, Richard marched on Nicosia, handily defeated Isaac’s mercenaries in the field and continued on to the capital where he also took custody of Isaac’s only child, a girl, who has remained nameless in history.  By the end of May, Isaac Commenus had surrendered to Richard a second time – despite having three unassailable castles in which he might have sought refuge.  Apparently, he could not trust the garrisons of these castle or muster enough loyal men to replace the existing garrisons.

The still dramatic ruins of the Castle of St. Hilarion, one of the three castles built by the Byzantines.

Isaac set only one condition to his surrender: that he not be placed in irons.  Richard therefore had shackles made of silver especially for him.  He was to die three years later in Syria trying to incite the Sultan of Konya to attack the Byzantine Empire. 

Richard was still in a hurry to get to the Holy Land (and join the siege at Acre before his rival King Philip II of France could claim credit for victory), but he also saw the strategic importance of Cyprus to the crusader kingdoms.  The port of Famagusta is only 118 miles from Tripoli, the closest of the crusader cities, and just 165 miles from Acre, the economic heart of the Kingdom.  Furthermore, Cyprus was (and is) a fertile island capable of producing grain, sugar, olives, wine and citrus fruits in abundance.  

Although Richard recognized that he could not possibly rule Cyprus himself, he wanted to secure it as resource for the crusader states and a base for operations against the Saracens.  So, although he left Cyprus on June 4, 1191, exactly a month after he arrived, shortly afterwards Richard sold the island to the Knights Templar for 100,000 pieces of gold.

Unlike Richard, who had come to an agreement with the Greek nobility on the island to let them retain their laws and customs, the Templars allegedly sought to impose Latin rites and tax the population at excessive rates. Within six months the island was in rebellion against them, and the Templars were forced to face the fact that they did not have the manpower to quell this rebellion and fight for the Holy Land at the same time; they returned the Island to Richard.

Richard promptly sold it a second time, this time to his vassal and former King of Jerusalem, Guy de Lusignan.  Guy de Lusignan had a long and colorful past -- which included seducing a Princess (Sibylla of Jerusalem) and losing a Kingdom (on the Horns of Hattin above the Sea of Galilee), but he was now a landless widower.  Guy came to Cyprus in the spring of 1192, probably accompanied by other knights and barons from the once proud Kingdom of Jerusalem who had lost their lands to Salah ad-Din.  Two years later he was dead, and Cyprus passed to his elder brother, Aimery de Lusignan, who founded a stable, Latin dynasty that lasted three hundred years.

The Latin Castle at St. Hilarion and the Premonstratensian Monastery of Bellapais founded by the Lusignans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helena Schrader is writing a series of ten novels set in the Age of Chivalry. For more information visit her website: http://tales-of-chivalry.com or watch the video teaser Tales of Chivlary. Helena also has a blog about the crusader kingdoms: Defending the Crusader Kingdoms.

Four of these are set in part in the Kingdom of Cyprus, including St. Louis' Knight :

A crusader in search of faith --

A lame lady in search of revenge --

And a king who would be saint.

St. Louis' Knight takes you to the Holy Land in the 13th century, and a world filled with knights, nobles, prophets -- and assassins.

 Buy now on amazon.com!

King Henry's Treasure and the Kingdom of Jerusalem

by Helena P. Schrader

Tomb of Henry II at Fontevrault

Henry II of England is one of England’s most colorful, fascinating and controversial kings.  He is usually remembered for forging the Angevin Empire, for his tempestuous relationship with his strong-willed and powerful queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, for the murder of Thomas Becket, and – among more serious scholars – for laying the foundations of English Common Law.

He is not remembered as a crusader. This is because, although he took crusader vows, he never actually went to the Holy Land. Indeed, most historians credit Henry II with disdaining crusading in preference to building an empire at home. Certainly, his refusal to accept the keys of the Holy Sepulcher from the Patriarch of Jerusalem in 1185, reflected a preference for holding on to what he had over seeking glory and salvation “beyond the sea” in “Outremer.”

Yet a focus on Henry’s legacy in the West obscures the fact that his ties to the Holy Land were much closer than is commonly remembered. First of all, his grandfather, Fulk d’Anjou, had turned over his inheritance to his son Geoffrey in order to go to the Holy Land and marry the heiress to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, Melisende. Geoffrey d’Anjou was thus the half-brother of Kings Baldwin III (reigned 1143 – 1162) and Amalaric I (reigned 1162-1174) of Jerusalem. This made Henry II first cousin to the ill-fated Baldwin IV of Jerusalem.

The Arms of the Kingdom of Jerusalem

Baldwin IV suffered from leprosy and could not sire an heir. As his condition worsened and the armies of Saladin drew stronger, he looked desperately for a successor capable of defending his inheritance. He did not see this either in his five year old nephew, or in the husbands of his sisters. It is with this incipient succession crisis in mind, with Saladin beating the drums of jihad at his doorstep, that the mission of the Patriarch of Jerusalem and the Grand Masters of the Knights Templar and Knights Hospitaller of 1185 must be seen.

Baldwin IV sent these emissaries to offer the keys to the Holy Sepulcher and the Tower of David first to Philip II of France and then to Henry II of England. By all accounts, Baldwin’s real hopes lay with Henry II – a powerful monarch, who had proved his abilities on the battlefield again and again. The Patriarch’s plea was for Henry II – or one of his sons – to come to Jerusalem and, implicitly, take the crown itself. Baldwin IV, many historians believe, wanted Henry II to end the succession crisis and restore the House of Anjou in the East.

Henry II, as I noted above, declined to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and surrender his hereditary lands for the Kingdom of Jerusalem. But he was far less indifferent to the fate of his cousin or the Holy Land than this decision suggests. As early as 1172, when Henry II reconciled with the Church for his role in the murder of Thomas Becket, he took the cross and started accumulating “large sums” of money in Jerusalem. This money, historian Malcolm Barber writes in The Crusader States, (Yale University Press, New Haven, 2012) was “intended for use when he eventually travelled to the East.” In 1182, Henry II made a will which left an additional 5,000 marks silver to both the Knights Templar and the Knights Hospitaller for the defense of the Holy Land, and another 5,000 marks was bequeathed for the general “defense of the Holy Land.” That is a total of 15,000 marks silver, an enormous sum, which he intended for the defense of the Holy Land.

Manuscript Illustration of a 12^th Century King

Since he did not die in 1182, this money never reached the crusader kingdom, but three years later, although Henry felt he dare not leave his kingdom (at a time when the French and his sons were trying to tear it apart), he did agree to a special tax (often referred to as the “Saladin Tax”) the proceeds of which were to go to the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

Finally, when the news reached him in 1187 of the fall of Jerusalem and the desperate straits of the Kingdom, Henry II again took a crusader vow. While many historians (and even more novelists) disparage this as a ploy, it is just as possible that he was sincere – so long as those who coveted his kingdom and threatened his crown, Philip II of France and his son Richard – went on crusade with him! We will never know how sincere his intentions were because he died before the Third Crusade got underway.

Meanwhile, however, his treasure had already played a crucial role in the history of Jerusalem. There are no figures for just how large King Henry’s treasure was, but it was undoubtedly more than the 15,000 silver marks mentioned in his will of 1182 because there had been money deposited prior to this, and the “Saladin Tax” that came afterwards.  Significantly, the money had been entrusted to the militant orders for safe keeping. This means that the money could be deposited in London, and paid out in Jerusalem through the networks of the Templars and Hospitallers.  Furthermore, based on the testament of 1182, it would appear that Henry carefully distributed the funds between the two militant orders, rather than favoring one over the other. This, unintentionally, resulted in his treasure having two very different uses.

In 1187, as Saladin prepared to launch an all-out offensive against the Christian kingdom of Jerusalem, King Guy had little choice but to call-up a levee en masse to put the largest force possible in the way of the invaders. Against a force of 45,000 including some 12,000 cavalry, King Guy could muster only about 1,000 knights, 4,000 light horse and some 15,000 infantry. In light of this, the Grand Master of the Templars, Gerard de Ridefort, handed over King Henry’s treasure to finance more fighting men. It is unclear from the sources whether these were mercenaries, light troops, or, as some say, the outfitting of 200 additional knights. In any case, Henry II’s money helped contribute to the army that marched out to meet Saladin – and was destroyed on the Horns of Hattin on July 4, 1187.

Medieval Warfare from a 14th Century Manuscript

The Grand Master of the Hospitallers, however, did not release King Henry’s treasure in advance of the Battle of Hattin. The money Henry II had deposited with the Hospitallers for the Holy Land was still in Jerusalem when the city surrendered to Saladin in October 1187. The terms of the surrender allowed the residents 40 days to raise a ransom of 10 dinars per man, 5 dinars per woman and 2 dinars per child. Those who failed to pay the ransom became slaves by right of conquest at the end of the 40 days.

At the time these terms were negotiated, the Christian defender of Jerusalem, Balian d’Ibelin, knew that there were some 40,000 (some sources say 100,000) Latin Christian refugees in the city.  He knew that many of these were destitute, having lost all they owned to Saladin already, and so were in no position to pay their ransom. He negotiated the release of 18,000 poor for a lump sum of 30,000 dinars.

Sources differ, however, on where this money was to come from. Some suggest that it came from King Henry’s treasure, but others suggest the initial sum was paid from the treasury of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, but that it soon became evident that there were more poor people in the city than Balian had estimated – or had the resources to ransom. (He’d lost all his lands to Saladin already too.) It was at this juncture, they say, that the Hospitallers handed over King Henry’s treasure to ransom as many of the poor as they could.

In the end, even Henry’s treasure was not enough and some 15,000 Christians were sold into slavery. Nevertheless, King Henry of England played an important role in ransoming thousands of Christians trapped in Jerusalem, minimizing the number sold into slavery. His son, of course, played an even greater role in rescuing the Kingdom from complete obliteration, but that is another story….

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Helena Schrader is writing a series of ten novels set in the Age of Chivalry. For more information visit her website: http://tales-of-chivalry.com or watch the video teaser Tales of Chivlary. One of these novels is set in the Holy Land during the crusade of King Louis IX of France.

A crusader in search of faith --

A lame lady in search of revenge --

And a King who would be saint.

St. Louis' Knight takes you to the Holy Land in the 13th century, and a world filled with knights, nobles, prophets -- and assassins.

Richard the Lionhearted and His Holy Grail

Richard the Lionhearted and His Holy Grail

By Christy English

Author of The Queen’s Pawn and

To Be Queen: A Novel of the Early Life of Eleanor of Aquitaine

Richard I, Eleanor of Aquitaine’s favorite son, is one of England’s most famous kings. In the fairy tales that surround Robin Hood, Good King Richard returns from the Holy Land to right the wrongs done by his nefarious brother, Prince John. Beyond the realm of fairy tales, Richard I is perhaps best known for leading the Third Crusade to the Holy Land.

King Richard I

Richard I was a brilliant military strategist. He found his only equal in Saladin in the Levant as both armies fought to a stand still in the effort to reclaim Jerusalem for Christian Europe. The goal of freeing Jerusalem was Richard’s dream for most of his adult life, and when he failed to bring that city under European control, like Moses before him, he refused to enter the promised land. Richard managed to negotiate safe passage for Christian pilgrims into the city that they might be blessed at the holy sites, but Richard refused to enter Jerusalem to obtain a blessing for himself. By failing to conquer Jerusalem, he failed to fulfill the duty he owed to his people and to his Church, and thus he felt unworthy to enter the city for which he had fought so hard.

Richard I: Old Palace Yard at Westminster

As a fan of Richard’s, I am sorry that he did not allow himself to enter Jerusalem. Though he had not managed to defeat Saladin, he had fought better any other general, Christian or Muslim, against a man who simply could not be defeated. Richard met his match in Saladin, both in military prowess and in honor. At the first battle of Jaffa, when Richard’s horse was killed beneath him, Saladin held his knights back from attacking the Christian king, and sent him two fine Arabian horses to replace the mount he had lost. Once Richard was mounted on one of these fine steeds, the battle resumed.

Though Richard did not succeed in his quest to reclaim Jerusalem, though the Holy Grail of a Levant united under Christian rule eluded him, he is remembered still in story and in song for his valiant effort.

The Ghosts of Minster Lovell Judith Arnopp

Day and night traffic roars along the A40 where it cuts through the serenity of the Oxfordshire countryside but should you stop your car just a few miles west of Oxford and turn away from the main road you will find yourself transported back into England’s past.

As the sounds of the twenty-first century are muffled by the sleepiness of Minster Lovell village you will find yourself relaxing and your pace slowing to that of an earlier time. Half close your eyes and, if you can, try to ignore the wheelie bins and imagine yourself back in the 15^th century. The layers of time are clearly visible, modern day living is only lightly superimposed upon the old and the ghosts of the past peer at you from every window and every nook.

Minster Lovell is a typical Cotswold village of thatched roofs and mellow stone. It runs alongside the meandering River Windrush, the quiet main street winding uphill toward St Kenelm church and the ruins of the Minster from which the village takes its name.

Although records only go back far enough to provide evidence of a house on the site since the 12^th century, the name ‘Minster’ suggests that perhaps there was once a Mercian hall there in the Saxon period, pushing the history of the settlement even further back in time.

The present house was built in the 1430’s by William, Baron of Lovell and Holand, who, at the time, was one of the richest men in England. The family were supporters of the Lancastrian faction until the reign of Richard the third when Francis Lovell broke with family tradition and became a close friend and supporter of the king. It was Richard that made Francis a Viscount.

Lovell, along with Richard’s other supporters, Richard Ratcliffe and William Catesby, was made famous by the rhyme below which is attributed to Lancastrian supporter William Collingbourne.

The Cat, the Rat and Lovell our dog,

rule all England under the hog.

Escaping both Bosworth Field and the wrath of Henry VII, Francis went on to join John de la Pole, the Earl of Lincoln in leading the Yorkist faction in an attempt to overthrow of the new, deeply detested Tudor/Lancastrian reign and replace Henry VII with pretender Lambert Simnel at The Battle of Stoke in 1487.

Some sources say that after escaping the battlefield Francis fled into Scotland but there is a legend that claims he managed to evade capture and return to Minster Lovell where he hid himself away in a secret room …never to emerge alive.

Only an old and loyal servant knew of Francis' whereabouts and was charged to provide him with food and water but the servant died suddenly and, unable to escape, Francis slowly starved to death.

When, more than two hundred years later, the mouldering skeleton of a man was discovered in a secret chamber at the Minster the legend took off. The story was given some credence by William Cowper, clerk to parliament, who wrote in 1737 that when a new chimney was being installed at Minster Lovell ‘there was discovered a large vault or room underground in which was the entire skeleton of a man, as having been sitting at a table, which was before him with a book, paper, pen etc.’

Some accounts embellish this tale with the skeleton of a small dog curled at his master’s feet but although this story is very appealing it is unlikely to be true. On his accession to the throne Henry VII made a gift of the manor to his uncle Jasper Tudor and as a Tudor holding, the house would not provide a likely hiding place for the Yorkist rebel, Francis Lovell. But some facts are stranger than fiction and I find myself wanting to believe it.

This mix of fact and legend is treasure indeed to any historical novelist and a visit to the atmospheric ruin persuades even a level headed cynic like myself that perhaps, just perhaps … there is something in it.

Another ghostly story attached to Minster Lovell is that of a young bride, who during a game of hide and seek took refuge in a lead lined box and, unable to free herself, suffocated. The family searched for weeks, but she was never found and eventually her husband died of a broken heart. Years later, when servants opened an old chest hidden in the attic they found inside a skeleton still dressed in a bridal gown.

When it comes to the paranormal I am a mostly a disbeliever but there are areas of Minster Lovell that are eerily evocative of its past. The timeless beauty, the sadness that lingers is the ruined buildings is redolent of forgotten lives and, for me, at Minster Lovell the past seems so close that it makes my scalp tingle.

I feel that on turning the next corner or ducking beneath the next lintel I might find myself in the midst of a 15^th century feasting hall overwhelmed by the festivities, jostled by serving wenches, entranced by the antics of tumblers and warmed by the great roaring fires of bygone days.

photo: woebleycastle © cherry wathall 2011