Sometimes, too, the nights were made sleepless with prayers. It was the custom, once they had settled down for the night, to send one of the king's heralds among the tents with the cry, “Sanctum Sepulchrum, adjuva!” “On hearing these words,” says the chronicler, “the whole multitude would take up the cry, stretching out their hands to heaven and with copious tears praying God for aid and mercy.” Usually the herald would make the same cry three times, and there would be the answering cry from the thousands in the camp. But sometimes, especially at moments of grave danger, there would be cries and prayers all through the night.
The decisive battle took place on September 7, 1191, at Arsuf, not far from the half-ruined town of Caesarea, as the army wandered over the sand dunes in the direction of Jaffa, about thirty miles away. More than half the journey was done. Here at Arsuf the wooded hills came down to the sea, providing deep cover for the Saracens, who expected to burst upon the Christians and cut them to pieces. Richard was forewarned. He had studied the topography of the region, and he had long since regarded Arsuf as the place where he would expect to stand and fight. Although weary of skirmishing, he was in good spirits, and looking forward to battle. His men were perhaps less ardent, for a surprisingly large number were coming down with fever, and the Templars were complaining that so many of their horses were crippled by arrows that they could scarcely be expected to mount a charge.
That morning, Richard issued a proclamation throughout the camp that he expected to do battle during the day. He ordered the Templars in the vanguard; then came the Bretons and Angevins; then the Poitevins under King Guy; then the Anglo-Normans in the center around the cart bearing the royal standard; and the Hospitallers brought up the rear, the most dangerous position of all. The duke of Burgundy and some French knights rode up and down the line, to see that the troops maintained the positions assigned to them. Henry of Champagne was charged with the duty of keeping close to the hills, to watch for the moment when the Saracens would emerge, and to signal the rest of the army.
The Saracens came out of the woods with a noise like Doomsday:
clarions, horns, trumpets, gongs, cymbals, high-pitched yells, all intended to exalt their own spirits and terrify their enemy. This first attack came shortly before nine o'clock. The main charge was directed at the Hospitallers in the rear guard, but the whole army felt the weight of the attack. At first there were foot soldiers, Negroes, Nubians, and Bedouin, shooting arrows and hurling javelins, throwing themselves on the first line of infantry, who were shaken but held their positions with bolts from their crossbows as they protected the cavalry. Then it was the turn of the Saracen cavalry, armed with axes, swords, and lances. They raised a cloud of dust that obscured the sky. There came wave after wave of them, until there seemed to be no more room. “For the space of two miles,” writes the author of the
Itinerarium
, “you could not see as much earth as could be taken up in one's hand, so numerous were the Turks in that place.” The sheer weight of numbers on the narrow shore threatened to drive the Christians into the sea. All the time the Christians were pressing forward on their march to Jaffa. The hammering of the Hospitallers in the rear guard continued. Saladin's aim was to chop it to pieces or to halt its forward march, thus cutting it off from the main body of the troops. Once a gap was formed, the process of cutting up the army could be continued indefinitely. Richard was determined to keep the army in one piece at all costs. The crossbowmen in the rear guard fought while marching backward, their faces turned to the enemy. But men cannot walk backward at the same pace they march forward, and there was the danger that the rear guard, moving at an alarmingly slow pace, would open up a gap that could never be filled except by the enemy. The fighting here was at such close quarters that the sound of battle, according to the chronicler, was like the battering of countless hammers upon blacksmiths' anvils. The Hospitallers sent messengers to Richard, begging for permission to unleash their cavalry on the enemy, pointing out that there might not be any horses left unless they acted now, for so many of them had been brought down by enemy arrows. Richard refused to listen to the messengers. He wanted his cavalry intact until he would let them all loose.
It was a day of cloudless skies and terrible heat, and the Hospitallers were beside themselves with fear that the battle would be lost unless the cavalry mounted a charge. Gamier of Nablus, Master of the Hospitallers, was impelled to seek out the king. “My lord king,” he said. “We are being violently oppressed by the enemy and in danger of eternal infamy, if we lack the courage to answer them blow for blow! As it is, we shall soon lose all our horses! Why should we endure them any more?” “My good Master,” replied the king, “it must be endured, for we cannot be everywhere at once.” This exchange, recorded in the
Itinerarium
, has a truthful ring. For Richard, endurance was everything. He was still determined that the knights should hold back so that they could deliver the
coup de grâce
at a moment chosen by him.
In the Christian army orders were delivered by trumpet blasts. There were two trumpeters with the vanguard, two at the center, and two in the rear guard. The trumpet notes for a general charge by the cavalry were well known, and every cavalryman was listening for them. But they were not heard. Two of the Hospitallers, including the marshal and an Anglo-Norman knight called Baldwin of Carron, decided in a fury of impatience to act as though the trumpeters had already sounded the advance. They forced their way through the infantry, shouted “St. George!” at the top of their voices, and hurled themselves at the enemy.
At this particular moment, the lightly armed Saracen cavalry had dismounted so that they could aim more accurately at the infantry, and the knights plowed through them with swords and lances, while the infantry, coming after them, like modern foot soldiers with fixed bayonets following closely behind heavily armored tanks, cut off the heads of the unmounted cavalrymen. Richard's order to wait for the trumpet blasts had been disobeyed, but he showed no anger. He joined the Hospitallers. “Then the king, the fierce, the extraordinary king, cut down the Turks in every direction, and none could escape the force of his arm, for wherever he turned, brandishing his sword, he carved a wide path for himself.” Richard had a habit of throwing himself into the thick of battle with a recklessness rarely to be found in a commander in chief. He had an exceptionally long reach and that helped him to keep his adversaries at a proper distance. He was riding Fauvel, the famous bay horse that had once belonged to Isaac Comnenus, and he was riding it harder than he had ever ridden it before.
There were more charges and countercharges, but after the Hospitaller cavalry broke through the protecting wall of infantry, the issue was never in doubt. Seven thousand Saracens were slain; the Crusaders lost perhaps a thousand men.
The battle was won when the Saracens fled back into the woods. Some of them hid in the branches of trees, and the crossbowmen amused themselves by shooting them down. Yet the strategical advantages of the victory were few compared with the psychological advantages. Saladin's army remained intact; he could, and would, continue to harass the Christians. Baha ad-Din records that Saladin was deeply disturbed by his defeat, withdrawing into himself, keeping strangely silent, scarcely moving, sunk in prolonged meditations. He seemed not to hear his emirs when they attempted to comfort him.
The Christians reached the small seacoast village of Arsuf without any further fighting. There they rested for a whole day before setting out for Jaffa. The harassment by the light cavalry continued until they reached the walls of Jaffa; here, at last, the Crusaders could really rest. The Christian army encamped in an olive grove just outside the walls because the city of Jaffa had been destroyed by Saladin.
NEVER again would Richard score such a resounding victory over Saladin. From this height there would be only a downward passage. Richard would soon realize that a victory for him did not mean defeat for Saladin, who could call upon inexhaustible resources in men and treasure; Richard would realize, too, that all victories in the Holy Land were precarious.
Meanwhile, the Christian army fortified Jaffa, throwing up a new wall and digging a ditch in front of it. The city was partially rebuilt: Richard did not think it was worth rebuilding and argued with the Franks, saying that it was more important to attack the enemy at Ascalon than to pile brick upon brick. Yet there was no doubting the way the army felt. They wanted to stay in Jaffa, where there was an abundance of fruit, and where a man might stretch his legs a little leisurely, knowing that he was close to Jerusalem. Richard, who hated leisure, had other thoughts. He wanted action, and was continually on the move.
One day, with a small escort, he went out hawking, intending to fall upon any small group of Saracens he met on the journey. After a long ride, he dismounted and fell asleep. His companions also slept, and when the armed Saracens found them, Richard had enough time only to gird on his sword and mount Fauvel before the attack came. Richard rushed upon them, wielding his sword, and suddenly the Saracens took flight and the Christians went hurrying after them. An ambush had been skillfully prepared, and all the Christians fell into it. The Saracens thought they recognized the king and surrounded him. At this moment one of Richard's closest friends, William of Pratelles, shouted in their language, “I am the king! I am the
melech
!” The Saracens turned around, captured William of Pratelles, and rode off with him: for the king was worth a king's ransom. Four knights were killed in this engagement, and although Richard attempted to pursue the Saracens, they were already too far away by the time the Christian army could be summoned to go after them.
The nobles of the Kingdom of Jerusalem begged Richard never to go out again without a heavily armed escort. He listened to them politely and went on doing as he pleased.
What pleased him most was the thought of conquering Jerusalem. His plans were far advanced. He proposed to mount a massive attack on Jerusalem after transforming Jaffa into an impregnable base of operations. He had calculated the exact date of his arrival: January 13, 1192.
A LETTER FROM RICHARD I, COEUR DELION, KING OF ENGLAND, TO HIS FAITHFUL SUBJECTS, FROM JOPPA, OCTOBER 1, 1191.
RICHARD, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, KING OF ENGLAND, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, Earl of Anjou, to N., his dearly beloved and faithful subject, greeting!
Know that after the taking of Acre and the departure of the King of France, who so basely abandoned the purpose of his pilgrimage and broke his vow, against the will of God to his eternal shame and the shame of his realm, we took the road to Joppa. We were nearing Arsuf when Saladin swept down on us with a mighty host of Saracens. But by the mercy of God we lost no knights on this day save one. This was James of Avesnes, a man dearly beloved by the whole army, and rightly so, for he had proved himself during many years' service in the Christian army, a man of great valour, vigorous and devout in holiness and sincerity of the faith, so that he was like the mainstay and support of the whole army.
So, through God's will, we came to Joppa, which we fortified with a ditch and a wall, because it was our purpose to defend the interests of Christianity to the utmost of our power. On the second day, the Vigil of the Nativity of the Blessed Mary, Saladin lost an infinite number of great men, and being put to flight, in the absence of all help and counsel, he laid waste the whole land of Syria. On the third day before the defeat of Saladin, we were ourselves wounded on the left side with a javelin, but by the grace of God we have now recovered from the wound. Know also that with God's grace we hope within twenty days after Christmas to recover the holy city of Jerusalem and the Sepulchre of our Lord, and after this we will return to our own land.
Witness our own hand at Joppa, the first day of October.
Richard's letter to his subjects in England and France took the form of a brief war bulletin, sketchy and incomplete, with just enough information to whet their appetites. Once Jerusalem was conquered, he intended to
return to the West. The hope and the passion lay in the words, “We hope within twenty days after Christmas to recover the holy city.” He was giving himself a little more than three and a half months to conquer the city. By Easter his own Crusade would come to an end, and others would take over the command of the Christian army.
A war bulletin must be reasonably concise and factual, and there are usually important omissions and evasions. What Richard was really thinking was conveyed in a letter written on the same day to the abbot of Clairvaux, urging that the greatest possible aid be sent to the Holy Land, and hinting that unless the aid was forthcoming, the results might be disastrous. Here is the letter he wrote in a more chastened mood, full of Christian feeling and with obvious devotion to the abbot.
A LETTER FROM RICHARD I, COEUR DELION, KING OF ENGLAND, TO THE ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX, FROM JOPPA, OCTOBER 1, 1191.
RICHARD, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, KING OF ENGLAND, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, Earl of Anjou, to the venerable and most dearly beloved friend in Christ, the Abbot of Clairvaux, health and a succession of continued prosperity.
After the mournful and universally bewailed loss of the holy city of Jerusalem, the city of the living God, in favor of which His name was invoked, the earth was alarmed and trembled, because the King of Heaven had lost His own land, the land upon which His feet had trod. But the blessing of God being diffused from the Apostolic See throughout the whole earth, the friends of the Cross of Christ, as Your Holiness is not unaware, vying with each other, pressed onward to assume the sign of the Cross on their foreheads and on their shoulders, and to avenge the injuries done to the Holy Cross.