The Dream and the Tomb (33 page)

Knight's Hall of Belvoir fortress
(Bar-David Agency)

David's Tower, Jerusalem
(Bar-David Agency)

Lions' Gate, Jerusalem
(Bar-David Agency)

The ivory covers of the Melisend Psalter (1131-43) depicting a king performing acts of mercy. They are the only surviving works in ivory from the Crusader domains.
(The British Library Board, Ms. Egerton 1139)

An illustration of the adoration of the Magi from the Melisend Psalter.
(The British Library Board, Ms. Egerton 1139, f.2)

Crusader art eventually began to manifest a strong Islamic influence.
(Freer Gallery of Art, the Smithsonian Institution)

THE star of Saladin was in the ascendant, and the star of the king of Jerusalem was waning. For all his courage and intelligence, the young king of Jerusalem, now emaciated, his hands and face eaten away by his disease, could no longer dominate his affairs, while Saladin was in the prime of life.

Saladin was not his real name. It was a name he gave himself: Salah al-Din, meaning “Rectifier of the Faith.” His real name was Yusuf ibn Ayyub (Joseph, son of Job). He was a slender man of middle height, dark-bearded and dark-eyed, dark-complexioned, and given to dark thoughts. Saladin was learned in theology and liked nothing better than listening to theologians as they propounded the Koran, engaging in their discussions. He was not indifferent to the pleasures of life: it was simply that he viewed his responsibilities with the gravity that seemed to place him beyond corruption.

In this respect, he differed from nearly all the caliphs and sultans of the East. Even when they were perfectly aware that by being corrupt they endangered their power, they usually permitted themselves to be seduced. Hence their short-lived dynasties, and the fierce battles over the succession. Saladin detested the panoply of power, lived unostentatiously, and deliberately arranged his life so that he could die poor. In Egypt, for example, he lived in a house not very much larger than a cottage, although, if it had pleased him, he could have lived in sumptuous magnificence in a palace with four thousand rooms. Within the palace were storerooms full of jewels; he gave them away or endowed schools, colleges, and hospitals with them or used them to pay the army.

He was accessible to all men, listened patiently to petitioners, and saw that no one left his presence without satisfaction. He forbade flattery, saying it was a waste of time and an insult to the intelligence, and if by accident or design someone acted too freely toward him, he usually laughed it off.

From the stories told about him by his companions we receive a clear picture of him: gentle, kindly, compassionate. Yet this same man was capable of a blind bloodlust against Crusaders who fell into his hands; even though a moment later he might treat them with exquisite courtesy, remembering that they were men like himself. His detestation of the Crusaders, especially when they broke their promises and their oaths, was so deep-rooted that he threatened to pursue them back to their own cities. One day he told his friend Baha ad-Din: “I think that when God grants me victory over the rest of Palestine, I shall divide my territories, make a will stating my wishes, then set sail on this sea for their far-off lands and pursue the Franks there, so as to free the earth from anyone who does not believe in Allah, or die in the attempt.”

Baha ad-Din was not in the least astonished by the sultan's threat to wage war through Europe; what amazed him was the thought of Saladin sailing on a ship through mountainous waves. “You, who are the bulwark of Islam, should not risk your life on shipboard,” he told Saladin.

“Now,” said Saladin, “I shall put a question to you. What is the most noble death?”

“Death in the path of Allah.”

“Well then, the worst that can befall me is the most noble of deaths.”

This exchange is perhaps the most revealing of all the recorded conversations with Saladin. His passion and his motives are both revealed, and so is the intensity of his faith. In Saladin's eyes the glory was not so much in ridding the Holy Land of the Crusaders as in following them to their lairs beyond the seas and exterminating them. He failed to do this, but there is very little doubt that such was his intention.

Almost from the beginning, Saladin was pictured in the West under a dual aspect: the harsh conqueror, the man of mercy and chivalry. But because the medieval mind was rarely capable of believing that men were made up of contradictions, there were many Christians who believed that he was the perfect knight, the soul of chivalry.

Unlike Saladin, who came to power by killing the sultan of Egypt, Baldwin IV was never treacherous. And he was certainly as complex, as noble, as commanding as Saladin. When his face and features were no longer recognizable, when there came from him only halting whispers, and when he was carried on a litter because he could no longer walk, he was braver than any of his knights and more intelligent than any of his advisers.

There were, however, problems which could not be solved by intelligence alone. The problem of the succession weighed heavily on the barons; it also weighed heavily on the king. When the prince of Antioch and the count of Tripoli came to Jerusalem in 1180 to perform their private devotions in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, he suspected that their real intention was to depose him, and he had them watched carefully. His sister
Sibylla was the rightful claimant to the throne in the event of his death. Since her husband, William of Montferrat, had died, it became necessary to find a husband for her who would be at least as commanding and personable as William. While a search for a suitable husband was continuing among the courts of Europe, Sibylla made her own choice. She chose Guy of Lusignan, the younger son of the count of Lusignan, a lady's man accomplished in the arts of flattery, without experience in war or government. The king permitted the marriage to take place, although with extreme reluctance, and granted to his new brother-in-law the counties of Ascalon and Jaffa. Henceforth, until he became king, Guy of Lusignan was generally known as the Count of Jaffa.

To the barons of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, the coming of Guy to a position of prominence was a disaster scarcely to be tolerated. But Sibylla doted on him, and the king, who was slowly dying, and going blind, acquiesced sufficiently to hold out the hand of friendship to him.

The king had another half sister, Isabelle, who was described by the poet Ambrose as “exceedingly fair and lovely.” He decided to marry her to Humphrey of Toron, the grandson of the great Constable, and in October 1180 there was an announcement of the engagement of Humphrey and Isabelle, who was then eight years old. The marriage would take place three years later. Humphrey was a scholar of Arabic, and in later years he would be sent on embassies to the enemy camps, Saladin would compliment him on his use of Arabic, and he would become the translator of all the chief Arabic texts addressed to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. The barons appear to have despised him because he was not a soldier like his famous grandfather, and they accused him of effeminacy, of being “soft in gestures and fruitful of speech.” What is certain is that Humphrey was among the very small group of people who had access to the king and was in the king's trust, and that he exerted in his own way considerable influence on the course of events.

While Humphrey of Toron was always helpful, Reynald of Châtillon, formerly prince of Antioch and later Nur ed-Din's prisoner in an Aleppo jail, proved to be as unhelpful as it was possible to be. He had married Stephanie, the widow of Miles of Plancy and the heiress of the whole region of Oultrejourdain (Beyond the Jordan) stretching from Hebron to the Red Sea and including the two great castles of Kerak and Montreal and the lesser castles of Petra and Val Moysis. Embittered by his long imprisonment and exulting in his newfound power, Reynald defied the king's truce with Saladin. It occurred to him to invade Arabia, to destroy the tomb of Muhammad at Medina and to sack Mecca and raze to the ground the sacred Kaaba. In the summer of 1181, he attacked and captured a caravan that was traveling peacefully to Mecca, taking possession of all the pilgrims, their animals, provisions, and goods. Later in the year he embarked on a daring escapade against Medina and Mecca. Only about three hundred Franks and perhaps an equal number of renegade Muslims took
part in the disastrous expedition, but their depredations were out of all proportion to their numbers. They brought fire and sword to the Red Sea, which was hitherto a safe and protected region of the world. Saladin swore that if he could lay his hands on Reynald he would kill him.