Philippe Auguste, whose health was really much impaired, resolved
to return home, and sent a deputation to acquaint Richard with his
intention. They were so much grieved at their King abandoning the
enterprise, that, when admitted into Richard’s presence, they could not
utter a word for tears. “It will be an eternal disgrace to himself and
his kingdom,” said Coeur de Lion; “but let him go, since he is dying for
want of his fair court of Paris.” He accordingly parted, after taking an
oath to offer no injury to the English possessions in Richard’s absence,
and leaving Hugh, Duke of Burgundy, with the portion of his army which
remained in Palestine. There was a dispute, too, on the succession to
the crown of Jerusalem. Sybilla’s death transferred her rights to her
sister, Isabel, the wife of Conrade of Montferrat; but Guy de Lusignan
refused to give up the title of King, and the Christians’ camp was rent
with disputes.
At the end of August, Richard led his crusading troops from Acre into
the midst of the wilderness of Mount Carmel, where their sufferings were
terrible; the rocky, sandy, and uneven ground was covered with bushes
full of long, sharp prickles, and swarms of noxious insects buzzed in
the air, fevering the Europeans with their stings; and in addition to
these natural obstacles, multitudes of Arab horsemen harassed them
on every side, slaughtering every straggler who dropped behind from
fatigue, and attacking them so unceasingly, that it was remarked that
throughout their day’s track there was not one space of four feet
without an arrow sticking in the ground.
Richard fought indefatigably, always in the van, and always ready to
reward the gallant exploits of his knights. It was now that Guillaume
des Barres so signalized himself, that the King offered him his
friendship, and forgot the quarrel at Messina. Here, too, a young
knight, who bore a white shield in hopes of gaining some honorable
bearing, so distinguished himself, that Richard thus greeted him at the
close of the day: “Maiden knight, you have borne yourself as a lion,
and done the deeds of six _croisés_” and granted him a lion between
six crosses on a red field, with the motto “_Tinctus cruore Saraceno_”
tinted with Saracen blood, whence he assumed the name of Tynte.
At Arsoof, on the 7th of September, a great battle was fought. Saladin
and his brother had almost defeated the two Religious Orders, and the
gallant French knight, Jacques d’Avesne, after losing his leg by a
stroke from a scimitar, fought bravely on, calling on the English King,
until he fell overpowered by numbers. Coeur de Lion and Guillaume
des Barres retrieved the day, hewed down the enemy on all sides, and
remained masters of the field. It is even said that Richard and Saladin
met hand to hand, but this is uncertain.
This victory opened the way to Joppa, where the Crusaders spent the next
month in the repair of the fortifications, while the Saracen forces lay
at Ascalon. While here, Richard often amused himself with hawking, and,
one day, was asleep under a tree, when he was aroused by the approach
of a party of Saracens, and springing on his horse Frannelle, which had
been taken at Cyprus, he rashly pursued them, and fell into an ambush.
Four knights were slain, and he would have been seized, had not a Gascon
knight, named Guillaume des Porcelets, called out that he himself was
the Malek Rik, and allowed himself to be taken. Richard offered ten
noble Saracens in exchange for this generous knight, whom Saladin
restored, together with a valuable horse that had been captured at
the same time. A present of another Arab steed accompanied them; but
Richard’s half-brother, William Longsword, insisted on trying the
creature before the King should mount it. No sooner was he on his back,
than it dashed at once across the country, and before he could stop
it, he found himself in the midst of the enemy’s camp. The two Saracen
princes were extremely shocked and distressed lest this should be
supposed a trick, and instantly escorted Longsword back, with gifts of
three chargers which proved to be more manageable.
Malek-el-Afdal was always the foremost in intercourse with the
Christians; Richard knighted his son, and at one time had hopes that
this youth might become a Christian, marry his sister Joan, the widowed
Queen of Sicily, and be established as a sort of neutral King of
Jerusalem; but this project was disconcerted in consequence of his
refusal to forsake the religion of his Prophet. [Footnote: This is the
groundwork of the mysterious negotiations in the “Talisman” and of
Madame Cottin’s romance of “Matilde.”]
From Joppa the Crusaders marched to Ramla, and thence, on New-Year’s
Day, 1192, set out for Jerusalem through a country full of greater
obstacles than they had yet encountered. They were too full of spirit to
be discouraged, until they came to Bethany, where the two Grand
Masters represented to Richard the imprudence of laying siege to such
fortifications as those of Jerusalem at such a season of the year, while
Ascalon was ready in his rear for a post whence the enemy would attack
him.
He yielded, and retreated to Ascalon, which Saladin had ruined and
abandoned, and began eagerly to repair the fortifications, so as to be
able to leave a garrison there. The soldiers grumbled, saying they
had not come to Palestine to build Ascalon, but to conquer Jerusalem;
whereupon Richard set the example of himself carrying stones, and called
on Leopold to do the same. The sulky reply, “He was not the son of
a mason,” so irritated Richard, that he struck him a blow. Leopold
straightway quitted the army, and returned to Austria.
The reports from home made Richard anxious to return, and he tried to
bring the Eastern affairs to a settlement. He adjudged the crown of
Jerusalem to Conrade of Montferrat, giving the island of Cyprus and its
princess as a compensation to Lusignan; but Conrade had hardly assumed
the title of King, before his murder, by two assassins from the Old Man
of the Mountain, threw everything into fresh confusion; and the barons
of Palestine chose in his place Henry of Champagne, a nephew of
Richard’s, a brave knight, whom Queen Isabel was induced to accept as
her third husband.
It was not without great grief and many struggles that Coeur de Lion
finally gave up his hopes of taking Jerusalem. He again advanced as far
as Bethany; but a quarrel with Hugh of Burgundy, and the defection of
the Austrians, made it impossible for him to proceed, and he turned back
to Ramla.
While riding out with a party of knights, one of them called out, “This
way, my lord, and you will see Jerusalem.”
“Alas!” said Richard, hiding his face with his mantle, “those who are
not worthy to win the Holy City, are not worthy to behold it!”
He returned to Acre; but there, hearing that Saladin was besieging
Joppa, he embarked his troops, and sailed to its aid. The Crescent shone
on its walls as he entered the harbor; but while he looked on in dismay,
he was hailed by a priest, who had leapt into the sea, and swam out to
inform him that there was yet time to rescue the garrison, though the
town was in the hands of the enemy.
He hurried his vessel forward, leapt into the water breast-high, dashed
upward on the shore, ordered his immediate followers to raise a bulwark
of casks and beams to protect the landing of the rest, and, rushing up a
flight of steps, entered the city alone. “St. George! St. George!” That
cry dismayed the Infidels; and those in the town, to the number of three
thousand, fled in the utmost confusion, and were pursued for two miles
by three knights who had been fortunate enough to find horses.
Richard pitched his tent outside the walls, and remained there, with so
few troops that all were contained in ten tents. Very early one morning,
before the King was out of bed, a man rushed into his tent, crying out,
“O King! we are all dead men!”
Springing up, Richard fiercely silenced him. “Peace! or thou diest by my
hand!” Then, while hastily donning his suit of mail, he heard that the
glitter of arms had been seen in the distance, and in another moment the
enemy were upon them, 7,000 in number!
Richard had neither helmet nor shield, and only seventeen of his knights
had horses; but undaunted, he drew up his little force in a compact
body, the knights kneeling on one knee, covered by their shields, their
lances pointing outward, and between each pair an archer, with an
assistant to load his cross-bow; and he stood in the midst, encouraging
them with his voice, and threatening to cut off the head of the first
who turned to fly. In vain did the Saracens charge that mass of brave
men, not one-seventh of their number; the shields and lances were
impenetrable: and without one forward step, or one bolt from the
crossbows, their passive steadiness turned back wave after wave of the
enemy. At last the King gave the word for the crossbowmen to advance,
while he, with seventeen mounted knights, charged lance in rest. His
curtal axe bore down all before it, and he dashed like lightning from
one part of the plain to another, with not a moment to smile at the
opportune gift from the polite Malek-el-Afdal, who, in the hottest
of the fight, sent him two fine horses, desiring him to use them in
escaping from this dreadful peril. Little did the Saracen prince imagine
that they would find him victorious, and that they would mount two more
pursuers! Next came a terrified fugitive, with news that 3,000 Saracens
had entered Joppa! He summoned a few knights, and, without a word to the
rest, galloped back into the city. The panic inspired by his presence
instantly cleared the streets, and, riding back, he again led his troops
to the charge; but such were the swarms of Saracens, that it was not
till evening that the Christians could give themselves a moment’s rest,
or look round and feel that they had gained one of the most wonderful of
victories. Since daybreak Richard had not laid aside his sword or axe,
and his hand was all one blister.
No wonder the terror of his name endured for centuries in Palestine, and
that the Arab chided his starting horse with, “Dost think that yonder
is the Malek Rik?” while the mother stilled her crying child by threats
that the Malek Rik should take it.
These violent exertions seriously injured Richard’s health, and a
low fever placed him in great danger, as well as several of his best
knights. No command or persuasion could induce the rest to commence
any enterprise without him, and the tidings from Europe induced him to
conclude a peace, and return home. Malek-el-Afdal came to visit him, and
a truce was signed for three years, three months, three weeks, three
days, three hours, and three minutes--thus so quaintly arranged in
accordance with some astrological views of the Saracens. Ascalon was to
be demolished, on condition free access to Jerusalem was allowed to the
pilgrims; but Saladin would not restore the piece of the True Cross, as
he was resolved not to conduce to what he considered idolatry. Richard
sent notice that he was coming back with double his present force to
effect the conquest; and the Sultan answered, that if the Holy City was
to pass into Frank hands, none could be nobler than those of the Malek
Rik. Fever and debility detained Richard a month longer at Joppa, during
which time he sent the Bishop of Salisbury to carry his offerings to
Jerusalem. The prelate was invited to the presence of Saladin, who spoke
in high terms of Richard’s courage, but censured his rash exposure of
his own life.
On October 9th, 1193, Coeur de Lion took leave of Palestine, watching
with tears its receding shores, as he exclaimed, “O Holy Land! I commend
thee and thy people unto God. May He grant me yet to return to aid
thee!”
The return from this Crusade was as disastrous as that from the siege of
Troy. David, Earl of Huntingdon, the Scottish King’s brother (the Sir
Kenneth of the Talisman), who had shared in all Richard’s toils and
glories, embarked at the same time, but was driven by contrary winds
to Alexandria, and there seized and sold as a slave. Some Venetian
merchants, discovering his rank, bought him, and brought him to their
own city, where he was ransomed by some English merchants, and conducted
by them to Flanders; but while sailing for Scotland, another storm
wrecked him near the mouth of the Tay, near the town of Dundee, the
name of which one tradition declares to be derived from his
thankfulness--_Donum Dei_, the Gift of God. He founded a monastery in
commemoration of his deliverance.
The two queens, Berengaria and Joan, were driven by the storm to Sicily,
and thence travelled through Italy. At Rome, to their horror, they
recognized the jewelled baldric of King Richard exposed for sale; but
they could obtain no clue to its history, and great was their dread that
he had either perished in the Mediterranean waves, or been cut off by
the many foes who beset its coasts.
His ship had been driven out of its course into the Adriatic, where the
pirates of the Dalmatian coast attacked it. He beat them off, and then
prevailed on them to take him into their vessel and land him on the
coast of Istria, whence he hoped to find his way to his nephew Otho,
Count of Saxony, elder brother of Henry, King of Jerusalem. This was
the only course that offered much hope of safety, since Italy, France,
Austria, and Germany were all hostile, and the rounding Spain was a
course seldom attempted; so that it was but a choice of dangers for him
to attempt to penetrate to his own domains. Another shipwreck threw him
on the coast between Venice and Aquileia; he assumed a disguise, and,
calling himself Hugh the Merchant, set out as if in the train of one
of his own knights, named Baldwin de Bethune, through the lands of the
mountaineers of the Tyrol. The noblesse here were mostly relatives of
Conrade of Montferrat; and Philippe Auguste having spread a report that
Richard had instigated his murder, it was no safe neighborhood. He sent
one of his men to Count Meinhard von Gorby, the first of these, asking
for a safe-conduct, and accompanying the request with a gift of a ruby
ring. Meinhard, on seeing the ring, exclaimed, “Your master is no
merchant. He is Richard of England: but since he is willing to honor me
with his gifts, I will leave him to depart in peace.”
However, Meinhard sent intelligence to Frederic of Montferrat, Conrade’s
brother, through whose domains Richard had next to pass. He sent a
Norman knight, called Roger d’Argenton, who was in his service, to seek
out the English King; but d’Argenton would not betray his native prince,
warned Richard, and told Frederic that it was only Baldwin de Bethune.
Not crediting him, the Marquis passed on the intelligence to the Duke
of Austria; and Richard, who had left Bethune’s suite, and was only
accompanied by a page, found every inhabited place unsafe, and wandered
about for three days, till hunger, fatigue, and illness drove him to a
little village inn at Eedburg.
Thence he sent his servant to Vienna, a distance of a few miles, to
change some gold bezants for the coin of the country. This attracted
notice, and the page was carried before a magistrate, and interrogated.
He professed to be in the service of a rich merchant who would arrive in
a day or two, and, thus escaping, returned to his master, and advised
him to hasten away; but Richard was too unwell to proceed, and remained
at the inn, doing all in his power to avert suspicion--even attending
to the horses, and turning the spit in the kitchen. His precautions were
disconcerted; the page, going again to Vienna, imprudently carried in
his belt an embroidered hawking-glove, which betrayed its owner to be of
high rank; and being again seized and tortured, confessed his master’s
name and present hiding-place.
Armed men were immediately sent to surround the inn, and the Mayor of
Vienna, entering, found the worn-out pilgrim lying asleep upon his bed,
and aroused him with the words, “Hail, King of England! In vain thou
disguisest thyself; thy face betrays thee.”
Awakening, the Lion-heart grasped his sword, declaring he would yield it
to none but the Duke. The Mayor told him it was well for him that he
had fallen into their hands, rather than into those of the Montferrat
family; and Leopold, arriving, reproached him for the insult to the
Austrian banner, which indeed was far more dishonored by its lord’s foul
treatment of a crusading pilgrim, than by its fall into the moat of
Acre. He was conducted to Vienna, and thence to the lonely Castle of
Tierenstein, where he was watched day and night by guards with drawn
swords. Leopold sent information of his capture to the Emperor, Henry
VI., who bore a grudge to Richard for his alliance with Tancred, who had
usurped Sicily from the Empress Constance; he therefore offered a price
for the illustrious prisoner, and placed him in the strong Castle of
Triefels. Months passed away, and no tidings reached him from without.
He deemed himself forgotten in his captivity, and composed an indignant
_sirvente_ in his favorite Provençal tongue. The second verse we give
in the original, for the sake of being brought so near to the royal
troubadour:
“Or sachen ben, mici hom e mici baron,
Angles, Norman, Peytavin, et Gascon,
Qu’yeu non hai ja si pauore compagnon
Que per ave, lou laissesse en prison.
Faire reproche, certes yeu voli. Non;
Mais souis dos hivers prez.”
Or, as it may be rendered in modern French:
“Or sachent bien, mes hommes, mes barons,
Anglais, Normands, Poitevins, Gascons,
Que je n’ai point si pauvre compagnon
Que pour argent, je le laisse en prison.
Faire reproche, certes, je ne le veux. Non;
Mais suis deux hivers pris.”
This melancholy line, “Two winters am I bound,” is the burden of the
song, closing the recurring rhymes of each stanza. In the next he
complains that a captive is without friends or relations, and asks where
will be the honor of his people if he dies in captivity. He laments
over the French King ravaging his lands and breaking the oaths they had
together sworn while he is “_deux hivers pris_,” and speaks of two of
his beloved troubadour companions by name, as certain to stir up his
friends in his cause, and to mourn for his loss while he is “_deux
hivers pris_.”
He was right; the troubadours were his most devoted friends; Bertram de
Born was bewailing him, and Blondel de Nesle, guided by his faithful
heart, sang his King’s own favorite lays before each keep and fortress,
until the unfinished song was taken up and answered from the windows of
the Castle of Triefels.
The clue was found: Queen Eleanor wrote instantly to the Pope, calling
on him to redress the injury offered to a returning pilgrim, yet signed
with the Cross, and sent two abbots and the Bishop of Ely to visit him.
From them he learnt that his brother John and Philippe of France were
using every means to prevent his return; but this gave him the less
concern, as he said, “My brother John was never made for conquering
kingdoms.”
His ex-chancellor, William Longchamp, who had been expelled from England
for tyrannical government, thought to serve his cause by a forgery of a
letter in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, purporting to be from the Old Man
of the Mountain, exculpating Richard from the murder of Conrade. It ran
thus: “To Leopold, Duke of Austria, and to all princes and people of the
Christian faith, Greeting. Whereas many kings in countries beyond the
seas impute to Richard, King and Lord of England, the death of the
Marquis, I swear by Him who reigns eternally, and by the law which we
follow, that King Richard had no participation in this murder. Done at
our Castle of Shellia, and sealed with our seal, Midseptember, in the
year 1503 after Alexander.”
No one thought of inquiring what brought this confession from the father
of assassins, or why he chose Alexander for his errand, the letter was
deemed conclusive, gave great encouragement to Richard’s partisans, and
caused many of the French to refuse to take up arms against him.
Now that his captivity was public, Henry VI. sent for him to Hagenau,
where he pleaded his cause before the diet, was allowed more liberty,
and promised permission to ransom himself, after performing homage
to the Emperor, which probably was required of him to show the
subordination of the Royal to the Imperial rank.
Philippe and John tempted the avarice of Henry by the offer of twice the
sum if he would give them the captive, or 20,000 marks for every month
that he was detained. However, the free princes of Germany, stirred up
by Richard’s nephew, the Count of Saxony, were so indignant at their
master’s conduct, that he could not venture to accept the tempting
offer, and on the 28th of February, 1194, he indited this note to
his ally, the King of France: “Take care of yourself! The devil is
unchained; but I could not help it.”
Philippe forwarded the warning to his accomplice, John, who tried to
raise the English to prevent his brother from landing; but they were
rejoicing at the return of their own King, and even before his arrival
had adjudged John guilty of treason, and sentenced him to lose his
manors.
March 20th, Richard landed at Sandwich, and two days after entered
London, among the acclamations of his subjects, who displayed all their
wealth to do him honor, and caused the Germans who accompanied him to
say that, if their Emperor had guessed at half the riches of England,
his ransom would have been doubled.
John was soon brought to sue for the pardon so generously given, and all
ranks vied with each other in raising the ransom. William the Lion of
Scotland presented the King with 2,000 marks, and the first instalment
was sent to Germany; but before it arrived, Henry VI. was dead, and the
Germans were so much ashamed of the transaction, that they returned the
money.
Thus ended the expedition, in which Richard had gained all the glory
that valor and generosity could attain, conquered a kingdom and given
it away, fought battles with desperate courage and excellent skill,
and shown much fortitude and perseverance, but had marred all by his
unbridled temper.
CAMEO XXV. ARTHUR OF BRITTANY. (1187-1206.)
_Kings of England_.
1154. Henry II.
1189. Richard I.
1199. John.
_Kings of Scotland_.
1158. Malcolm IV.
1165. William.
_King of France_.
1180. Philippe II.
_Emperors of Germany_.
1152. Friedrich I.
1191. Henry VI.
_Popes._
1183. Clement IV.
1189. Celestine III.
1193. Innocent III.
The son of Geoffrey Plantagenet and Constance, Duchess of Brittany, was
born at Nantes, on Easter-day, 1187, six months after the death of his
father. He was the first grandson of Henry II., for the graceless young
King Henry had died childless. Richard was still unmarried, and the
elder child of Geoffrey was a daughter named Eleanor; his birth was,
therefore, the subject of universal joy. There was a prophecy of Merlin,
that King Arthur should reappear from the realm of the fairy Morgana,
who had borne him away in his death-like trance after the battle of
Camelford, and, returning in the form of a child, should conquer
England from the Saxon race, and restore the splendors of the British
Pendragons.
The Bretons, resolved to see in their infant duke this champion of their
glories, overlooked the hated Angevin and Norman blood that flowed in
his veins, and insisted on his receiving their beloved name of Arthur.
Thanksgivings were poured forth in all the churches in Brittany, and the
altars and shrines at the sacred fountains were adorned with wreaths of
flowers.
At the same a time a Welsh bard directed King Henry to cause search to
be made at Glastonbury, the true Avallon, for the ancient hero’s corpse,
which, as old traditions declared, had been buried between two pyramids
within the abbey. There, in fact some distance beneath the surface, was
found a leaden cross, inscribed with the words, “_Hic jacet sepultus
inclytus Rex Arthurus in insula Avallonia_” (Here lies buried the
unconquered King Arthur in the isle of Avallon). A little deeper was a
coffin, hollowed out of an oak tree, and within lay the bones of the
renowned Arthur and his fair Queen Guenever. His form was of gigantic
size; there were the marks of ten wounds upon his skull, and by his side
was a sword, the mighty Caliburn, or Excalibar, so often celebrated in
romances. Guenever’s hair was still perfect, to all appearance, and of
a beautiful golden color, but it crumbled into dust on exposure to the
air. The Bretons greatly resented this discovery, which they chose to
term an imposture of Henry’s, in order to cast discredit on Merlin’s
prediction.