at Limasol, and crowned king and queen of Cyprus. The bride was simply
attired in a white lawn dress, but wore a splendid girdle of jewels; and
her flowing black tresses were adorned with a double crown. Richard wore
a rose-colored tunic of satin, belted with jewels. A mantle of silk
tissue, brocaded in silver crescents, fell from his shoulders, and on
his head was a scarlet brocaded cap. By his side hung a Damascus blade
in a silver-scaled sheath. Before the king was led his beautiful
Cyprian steed, Favelle, gorgeously caparisoned, and bitted with gold,
the saddle adorned with two little golden lions.
Not long after this grand ceremony, word came to Richard that Acre, a
city of Palestine long besieged by the Crusaders already in the Holy
Land, was about to surrender. Exclaiming, "Heaven grant that it be not
taken before I arrive!" Richard immediately set sail for that port.
When near Beyrout, the English fell in with a large Saracen ship, and
after a desperate but vain attempt to board the vessel, pierced its
sides with the iron beaks of their galleys. The ship sank, and its crew
were slain or drowned. Among the floating bodies that covered the sea,
were seen many deadly serpents, which the infidels "had destined to work
havoc among the Christians" besieging Acre.
Cheered by this victory, Richard and his men rejoiced still more when
the walls and citadels and the great "accursed tower" of Acre came in
sight. For long months this famous city, its walls lapped by the blue
Mediterranean, had been girt round by a vast host of Crusaders,--"men of
every Christian nation under heaven." Their camp was like an immense
city, with streets and walls, and strong fortifications, especially on
the landward side; for beyond this vast Christian camp, crowned by the
high tower from which floated the great white banner of the Crusaders,
lay a countless body of Turkish troops, swarming over the adjacent
plains and mountain-sides. Thus the besieging Christians were themselves
besieged.
The tents of the infidels were gay with colored devices and the yellow
ensigns of Islam. As Richard neared the shore, these hated emblems of
Mohammed and the famous black standard of Saladin, Sultan of the
Saracens, were plainly visible to him, and stirred him to deep wrath.
His anger burned the hotter when he recalled the stories told of the
terrible havoc wrought by these infidels on the Christian hosts
besieging the city. Night and day these fierce warriors of Saladin
swooped down on the Christian camp. Scores of bloody battles had taken
place. Almost beyond belief was the suffering that had been patiently
endured by the soldiers of the Cross. Battles, hunger, and disease had
thinned their ranks and sorely tried their souls. No wonder they hailed
with joy the arrival of that famous warrior, Richard Coeur-de-Lion,
for they believed that he would soon lead them to victory.
So amidst the din of drum and trumpet and clarion, and the deafening
shouts of exultant thousands, King Richard set foot upon the Holy Land.
And the red glare of huge bonfires and numberless torches carried the
alarming tidings to Saladin and his army.
The King of France and the many princes met Richard, and welcomed him in
a manner befitting his rank and his renown as the "most skilful warrior
among Christian men." The camp was that night a scene of rejoicing and
merriment. "Richard Coeur-de-Lion has come; Acre will soon be ours!"
was the universal cry.
But, alas! the hopes built on the arrival of Coeur-de-Lion were not
speedily realized. Richard fell ill of a fever, and could not lead the
assault. Then Philip also became sick; so that the two kings could not
lead their armies against the city at the same time. The feeling of
jealousy between them also prevented united action. When one king
undertook an assault, the other sulked in his tent. All the princes and
leaders were at this time disputing about the rival claims of Guy de
Lusignan and Conrade, Marquis of Montferrat, to the throne of the
Kingdom of Jerusalem. Philip favored the Marquis of Montferrat, but
Richard supported Guy de Lusignan. These disputes were made more bitter
by the haughty bearing of the King of England, who wished to rule in
camp and council, and treated with scant courtesy the princes who
presumed to oppose him. So discord reigned among the leaders, and
prevented the united action that might soon have reduced the city.
Nevertheless, the fighting went vigorously on. Battle after battle was
fought on the plain between the forces of Saladin and the Crusaders;
assault after assault was made by the Christians on the beleaguered
city.
Even during his illness, Richard had directed the making of
stone-casters, slings, rams, and wooden towers for assaulting the walls
of the besieged city. As soon as he was well enough, the king caused
himself to be carried near the city wall and placed under the shelter of
a kind of wooden hurdle. Seated there, he directed the movements of his
men, who were endeavoring to undermine and carry by storm a tower of the
fortifications.
As his soldiers rushed to the assault, Richard shouted that he would
give three goldpieces to every man who should detach a stone from the
tower wall. So the hope of reward, as well as the love of glory, led to
deeds of reckless daring. While some soldiers dug underground, trying to
sap the tower foundations, others plied the stone-casters and hurled
immense stones into the city,--at one time killing twenty Turks with a
single huge missile. Other bands of Christians strove to tear down or
scale the walls; while the Turks, equally valiant, strained every nerve
to hurl them back. The Christians "climbed the half-ruined battlements
as wild goats climb precipitous rocks, while the Saracens threw
themselves on the besiegers like stones unloosed from the top of a
mountain." Huge stones and Greek fire rained down on the Crusaders.
Meanwhile King Richard, weak though he was, plied his great cross-bow
vigorously and slew many Turks. One of the infidels was disporting
himself on the wall, clad in the well-known armor of Alberic Clement,--a
renowned and beloved Christian warrior, slain several days before by the
Turks, after he had fought his way into the city itself. Richard sent a
shaft through the very heart of this braggart Turk.
Now, when the tower had been almost battered down, other warriors from
the Christian camp gathered to the assault; but the watchers on the
city wall raised a cry of alarm, and all the Turkish warriors flew to
arms. Then followed a fierce hand-to-hand conflict. In spite of most
heroic efforts, the Crusaders were finally driven back. "Never," says
the Christian chronicler, "has there been such a people for prowess in
battle as these Turks."
Though wroth at this repulse, Richard continued to make frequent attacks
of the same sort, and kept his stone-casters and other engines of war
busy night and day until the defences of the city were much weakened.
The inhabitants, disheartened also by famine and other hardships,
finally sent envoys to Saladin, requesting permission to surrender the
city. After much parley about conditions, the city capitulated, and the
two Christian kings took possession. Soon the red-cross standard of the
Crusade, the oriflamme of Saint Denis, and the banner of Saint George
crowned the walls of Acre. The standard of Austria was also raised by
the Archduke Leopold; but not long did it wave. The haughty
Coeur-de-Lion flew into a rage on seeing the ensign of a mere duke
flying beside the banners of kings. With his own royal hands he tore
down the offending flag, and contemptuously ground it beneath his royal
heel. Nor did the outraged archduke dare to resent the insult, though he
cherished the memory of it in his heart, and well avenged himself at a
later day.
The kings of France and England divided the city between them. Philip
lodged himself in the splendid palace of the Templars,--a military order
of Christian knights; and Richard established his court in the royal
palace, with the two queens, Berengaria and Joan, and their ladies. Here
for some time the kings lived in luxury and splendor, while all the
Crusaders took their ease and rested from warfare.
But again quarrels arose over the kingship of Jerusalem. Finally it was
agreed among the princes that Guy de Lusignan should be recognized as
king, and the Marquis of Montferrat as his successor to the throne.
After this agreement, Philip fell sick, and actually suspected Richard
of having poisoned him. Weary of battle, exhausted by sickness, and
mortified by the knowledge that Richard's fame as a warrior far
surpassed his own, Philip resolved to return to France. As bound by
treaty, he requested the consent of the English king to his departure.
"Eternal shame on him and all France if for any cause he leave the holy
work unfinished!" cried Richard, when the messenger of Philip had
spoken. But finally he was persuaded to give a reluctant consent in
these words,--
"Well, let him go if his health require it, or if he cannot live without
seeing Paris."
So the King of France, abandoning the Crusade, gladly set sail for his
own country; but he left a large force under the Duke of Burgundy to aid
Richard in the conquest of Jerusalem.
Now, Saladin had failed to carry out the terms of the surrender of Acre.
At the time agreed upon, he had not delivered to Richard the stipulated
sum of money, the Christian captives, or the true cross, which was in
his possession. So the English king and the Duke of Burgundy led all
their Saracen prisoners outside the walls of Acre and put them to death.
After this massacre and a fierce battle with the outraged warriors of
Saladin, who in vain attempted to prevent the execution of their kinsmen
and friends before their very eyes, Richard and his army set out by way
of the coast for the city of Ascalon, the fleet accompanying them.
Saladin, frenzied with rage at the massacre before Acre, though he
himself was partly to blame, followed Richard, with vengeance in his
heart. At every favorable opportunity, the sultan attacked the
Christians and slew all who fell into his hands.
Never was there a more dreadful or fatal march. Countless arrows rained
down on the soldiers from the Turks on the mountain heights. The
scorching sun of Syria blazed upon their weary bodies by day, and deadly
tarantulas poisoned them by night. Ever and anon the Turks, mounted on
horses swifter than swallows, swooped down on the struggling ranks of
Christians and wrought bloody havoc among them, escaping vengeance by
the speed of their steeds. Thus tormented and harassed, it is little
wonder that when encamped at night, the distressed Crusaders should all
join with tears and groans and heart-felt fervor in the thrice-repeated
evening cry of the heralds: "Help us, O Holy Sepulchre!" Sorely did they
need divine help.
King Richard did all that valor and kindness could prompt for the
protection and aid of his people. He led the van and was ever in the
front of every fight, heedless of danger. In one of these battles he was
painfully wounded. In another combat that French knight, William des
Barres, who had incurred the king's displeasure at Messina,
distinguished himself so greatly by his valor that he was fully restored
to the favor and friendship of Richard. The king caused the pilgrims
who fell from exhaustion or wounds to be carried to the ships and thus
saved from death at the hands of Saladin.
When the exhausted Crusaders reached the plain of Arsur, Saladin, with a
vast host of Saracens, hemmed in and attacked the Christian army. Never
was there a more terrible battle. All day it raged, so furiously that
the old chronicler confesses that "in the stress and bitter peril of
that day, there was not one who did not wish himself safe at home with
his pilgrimage finished." At one time the Hospitallers who were
defending the rear, and who had been forbidden by Richard to charge the
enemy, were so harassed by the Turks that they sent and besought the
king's permission to attack the Saracens. But he forbade the move,
commanding them to close their lines and wait in patience. Finally these
tormented knights, stuck full of arrows, beaten with mallets, pierced by
lances, crushed by maces, became frenzied with rage and shame at their
inaction. They cried aloud, "Alas! we shall be convicted of cowardly
sloth and disgraced forevermore!" Then, suddenly, exasperated beyond
endurance, they faced about, and with a loud shout, "Holy Sepulchre aid
us!" charged furiously into the midst of the infidels. Hundreds they
slew, but their disobedient act threw the entire army into confusion.
Coeur-de-Lion, seeing this, put spurs to Favelle and galloped into the
ranks of the Hospitallers. Then he bore down upon the Turks, "thundering
against them, and mightily astonishing them by the blows that he dealt."
Right and left they fell. Pressing on furiously and alone, Richard cut a
wide path for himself through the Turkish ranks, brandishing his sword
and mowing them down like grass before the sickle. For half a mile the
ground was strewn with the bodies of those who dared to oppose the
irresistible warrior. At last the terrified Turks fled in every
direction before the attack of Richard. In vain Saladin strove to rally
the Saracens. In vain his brazen kettle-drums and trumpets called to the
flying infidels. The battle was lost, and the defeated sultan sadly
retreated before the exultant Christians.
After this famous victory, Richard marched to Jaffa, where the army
encamped in a fair olive orchard, and there abode some time in peace and
plenty. Richard sailed to Acre, where he stirred up slothful pilgrims
and entreated them to join his army at Jaffa for the march to Jerusalem.
On his return, he brought with him Queen Berengaria and Joan. While
waiting for recruits to the army, Richard occupied his time in
excursions around Jaffa, and met with many romantic adventures.
One day he rode out with his falcons and a few knights to hunt, and also
to spy on the Turks. When tired out by the chase, he lay down in the
shade and fell asleep. Some Turks, hearing that he was thus off guard,
rode swiftly up, hoping to take the dreaded king prisoner. Richard and
his knights, roused by the noise of the hoof-beats, had barely time to
mount their horses when the Turks were upon them. Coeur-de-Lion and
his comrades met the attack fiercely; and the Turks, making a pretence
of flight, drew the little band into an ambush, where it was surrounded
by a great number of the infidels. Richard, in spite of his prowess,
would certainly have been taken prisoner, had not one of his comrades,
William de Preaux, called out, "I am the king; save my life!" The
Saracens, knowing no better, quickly seized the generous knight and
galloped off, thinking they had captured King Richard. The king, thus
saved, returned to his camp, where he found the army in great distress
over his reported capture.
Every effort was made to rescue William de Preaux, but in vain, and
there was universal sorrow for the knight who had purchased the safety
of the king by the sacrifice of his own freedom and the risk of his own
life. "O fealty worthy of all renown! O rare devotion! that a man should
willingly subject himself to danger to save another!" exclaims the
chronicler. Surely there must have been much that was fine and lovable
in the character of a king who called forth such rare devotion in a
follower,--one who was not a vassal of his own.
As soon as possible, the grateful Richard ransomed his friend by
exchanging ten noble Turkish captives for the brave French knight.
The king's friends now tried to persuade him to be more prudent and not
to expose himself so rashly to danger. But Coeur-de-Lion delighted in
danger, rejoiced to be first in onset and last in retreat. He loved to
make the most perilous sallies against the Turks with but a few of his
followers, and whether "by reason of his valor or the divine aid," he
usually succeeded in capturing or slaying the infidels.
Meanwhile Richard was in communication with Saladin, trying to persuade
the sultan to deliver Jerusalem to the Christians. Saladin steadfastly
refused to surrender the city, but the two kings became friendly, and
frequently sent each other rich gifts. Though they had a sincere
admiration for each other, strange to relate, these warring kings never
met. Though often opposed in battle, a meeting did not take place on any
field; perhaps because Saladin, though personally brave, did not
consider it the province of a king to fight in person, as did Richard.
This Saracen sultan was a wise, just, and humane ruler,--a most
admirable character, and much loved throughout his vast empire, an
empire stretching from the Nile to the Tigris.
His brother Saphadin (Saf-ad-Din), a famous warrior, came often to visit
Richard, who became very fond of him. The English king proposed to
Saladin that Saphadin should marry Queen Joan, and the two be made
sovereigns of Jerusalem. But this projected union of heathen and
Christian was detestable to both nations, and the plan served only to
bring reproach on Richard, who was much blamed for his friendly dealings
with the unbelievers. All negotiations with Saladin came to nothing, and
Richard finally marched on toward Jerusalem, which had meanwhile been
strongly fortified by the sultan. When the army had reached Beit-Nuba,
about twelve miles from the Holy City, a council of the chief men
decided that it would be neither prudent to besiege Jerusalem at that
time nor possible to take it. The army was smitten with grief at this
decision, and it was a sad host that marched back to Ascalon.
This city had been destroyed by Saladin, and the English king thought it
necessary to rebuild the town as a base of supplies for his army when
the siege of Jerusalem should be undertaken. Richard and his nobles
worked with their own hands at rebuilding the walls. But many of the
French, unwilling to labor thus in menial fashion, left the army and
went off to Acre. Leopold, Archduke of Austria, refused to join in the
labor, and when reproached by Richard, replied sulkily, "I am not the
son of a mason." Richard, justly incensed, abused him in no gentle
terms, and even went so far as to strike the titled shirker. Whereupon
the archduke straightway left the camp and hied him back to his own
country.
Other bitter disputes broke out among the chiefs, and actual fighting
took place between the troops of different countries. Conrade of
Montferrat and Richard fell out again, and the marquis left the camp and
entered into a secret treaty with Saladin, who agreed to aid him in his
schemes of conquest.
Now, Richard, hearing that his brother John was conspiring against him,
thought at first that he must return to England. It was necessary to
have a leader in Richard's stead, and the council of chiefs elected
Conrade to be chief of the armies, and also declared him King of
Jerusalem. Richard consented to this choice, though he had no love for
Conrade. But shortly afterwards, ere the coronation could take place,
the marquis was murdered in the streets of Tyre. It is most probable
that he fell a victim to the hatred of "The Old Man of the Mountains."
This mysterious and dreaded personage was Sinan, the chief of a strange
and fanatical sect of robbers and murderers, called the Ismaelians. He
had many castles and strongholds in the mountains of Syria, and his very
name struck terror to the hearts of its inhabitants. For this Sinan held
despotic rule over his followers, and at his slightest word they were
ready to kill themselves or any one else. He was accustomed to send
these deluded disciples of his to assassinate any person who displeased
him, promising paradise to the murderers in reward for their deed.
This Sinan sent two of the assassins to murder Conrade, who had seized
goods from one of his followers. But some of the friends of the marquis
accused Richard of the infamous deed,--as if the bold King of England
would have stooped to rid himself of an enemy in that cowardly way. The
suspicion, though without any foundation, strengthened the enmity that
many of the chiefs felt for the English king, because of his
haughtiness.
When at last Richard had led them within a few leagues of Jerusalem the
second time, disputes arose about the advisability of then attacking the
Holy City. Many of the princes did not wish Richard to have the glory of
the conquest. Finally, the council of twenty knights, to which the
matter was referred, decided that the siege should not be attempted at
that time. So the order was given to retreat. It was sadly obeyed by the
soldiers, who groaned and wept at giving up their cherished hopes of
visiting the Holy Sepulchre.
One of these pilgrims, while the army was near Jerusalem, reached the
summit of a hill, and called to Richard in much excitement, "Sire, sire,
come hither and I will show you Jerusalem!" But the king, casting his
coat-of-arms before his eyes, wept as he cried out, "Fair Lord God, I
pray Thee not to let me see Thy Holy City, if so be that I may not
deliver it out of the hands of Thine enemies."
As sadly grieved as their king at thus leaving the Holy City in infidel
hands, the army marched despondently back to Jaffa, and thence to Acre,
the French and English mutually accusing each other of having been the
cause of the failure to take Jerusalem. The Duke of Burgundy vented his
spite by composing a scurrilous song about Richard, which was sung in
the French camp. The King of England, much annoyed, revenged himself in
a similar manner by writing a few stinging lines, in which he answered
these "_trumped-up scandals_ with a few plain truths" about the duke and
his other enemies. The singing of these princely satires did not add to
the harmony of the camp.
When Richard reached Acre, he began to make preparations to return to
England, for John was again conspiring to seize the throne. As the king
was about to embark, envoys came in great haste, and besought him to
come to the relief of Jaffa. They related that the town had been taken
by Saladin, and that only the citadel yet held out. The king cut short
the entreaties of the messenger by exclaiming, "God yet lives, and with
His guidance I will set out to do what I can."
The French refused to go with him, but some noble knights started to the
rescue by land, while the king and a few chosen comrades set out by
sea. When the galleys reached Jaffa, the Turks, by thousands, swarmed to
the shore, ready to destroy all who should attempt to land. The king's
friends said to him, "It will be vain to attempt a landing in the face
of so many enemies." But when a fugitive priest, leaping from the wall,
swam to the galley and told Richard that some of his fellow-Christians
were still alive and holding the citadel, Coeur-de-Lion exclaimed,--
"Then, even though it please God, in whose service I come hither, that
we should die here with our brethren, let him perish who will not go
forward with me." So saying, the king, with a shout of "Saint George!
Saint George!" leaped from his red galley into the water, with shield
hung round his neck and huge battle-axe in hand. Unheeding the countless
darts of the enemy, he gained the beach, followed by a few faithful
knights. There the redoubtable Richard actually put to flight the
thousands of Turks, dashed into the town, rescued the citadel, and drove
every infidel out of the gates of Jaffa.
The story seems incredible, but it is true.
Next day the generous Saladin, hearing that Richard had no horse,
exclaimed, "It is a disgrace that so great a king should lack a steed!"
So he sent one of his men with a charger to Richard. The king accepted
the gift and bade one of his men mount the beautiful Arabian.
Immediately the spirited steed took the bit between its teeth and
galloped back to the Saracen camp. "Right shamefaced was Saladin when
the horse returned," for he knew that some would suspect him of trying
to entrap Richard. He sent another horse to the king, and many apologies
for the bad behavior of the first. Richard, incapable of treachery
himself, had no suspicion of Saladin's good faith. He thanked the
messenger, and to show his confidence in the sultan, at once mounted and
rode the horse.
A few days afterwards, a large body of Turks unexpectedly attacked
Richard, who was encamped outside the walls of Jaffa with only fifteen
knights and a few thousand foot-soldiers. It was early morning, and a
soldier flew to Richard's tent, crying, "O king, we are dead men!"