KING FULKE. A.D. 1131-1144.
“I have touched the highest point of all my greatness,
And from that full meridian of my glory,
I haste now to my setting.”
_King Lear._
Fulke, Count of Anjou, born about the year 1092, was thirty-nine
years of age at the time when his father-in-law died, and he became,
with his wife Milicent, the successor to the throne. He was a man of
affable and generous disposition, patient and prudent rather than
impetuous, and of great experience and judgment in military
operations. He was of small stature—all the previous kings had been
tall men—and had red hair; “in spite of which,” says William of
Tyre, who regarded red-haired men with suspicion, “the Lord found
him, like David, after his own heart.” The principal defect in him
was that he had no memory. He forgot faces, persons, and promises.
He would entertain a man one day in the most friendly spirit
possible, making all kinds of offers of assistance, and giving him
to understand that he was entirely devoted to his interests. The
next day he would meet him and ask people who he was, having
meanwhile quite forgotten all about him. This was sometimes
extremely embarrassing, and “many men who reckoned on their familiar
relations with the king fell into confusion, reflecting that they
themselves, who wanted to show as protectors and patrons to other
people, required a patron with the king.”
The domestic relations of Fulke were somewhat complicated, but they
bear a certain special interest for English readers.[62] His father,
Fulke, the Count of Touraine and Anjou, was married three times, and
had one child from each marriage. His third wife, Bertrade, the
mother of King Fulke, ran away from him, and became the mistress of
King Philip of France, by whom she had three children. One of them
was that Cæcilia who married Tancred, and, after his death, Count
Pons. Fulke, by means of his mother’s influence, making a wealthy
marriage, was the father of that Geoffrey Plantagenet who married
Matilda of England, and produced the Plantagenet line. His daughter
Matilda was also betrothed to William, the son of Henry I., and, on
the drowning of that prince, she went into a convent, where she
remained. Another daughter, Sybille, married Thierry, Count of
Flanders. By his second wife, Milicent, Fulke had two sons, Baldwin
and Amaury, both of whom became, in turn, Kings of Jerusalem.
Footnote 62:
See Genealogical Table, p. 268.
In the first year of King Fulke’s reign died that stout old warrior,
Jocelyn of Edessa. His end was worthy of his life. In the preceding
year he had been besieging a fort or castle near Aleppo, and had
ordered a certain town to be undermined. While he was personally
superintending the works, the tower suddenly fell and buried the old
count beneath its ruins. They extricated him, but his legs and limbs
were broken, and he never walked again. He retained, however, his
power of speech and his lofty courage, and when, next year, the news
came that the Sultan of Iconium was besieging in force one of his
strong places, he sent for his son and ordered him to collect all
the men and knights he could, and march at once to the rescue. But
young Jocelyn, who was, like most of the Syrian-born Christians,
little better than a cur, refused flatly, alleging as an excuse the
disproportion of numbers. The old man, sorrowful at heart on account
of his son’s cowardice, and foreboding the troubles which would
surely come after his own death, ordered his litter to be prepared,
and was carried at the head of his own army to the relief of the
fort. The news reached the Saracens that old Jocelyn was coming
himself, and at the very mention of his name they broke up their
camp and fled. “And when he heard this, the count ordered those who
carried his litter to place it on the ground; then raising his hands
to heaven, with tears and sighs, he returned thanks to God, who had
visited him in his affliction, and had thus favoured him by
suffering him once more, and for the last time, to be formidable to
the enemies of Christ. And while he poured out his thanks to heaven,
he breathed his last.” There was now no one left of the old
crusading chiefs, and their spirit was dead.
Most of them had married Armenians, and their sons were degenerate,
sensual, and cowardly. Young Jocelyn, for instance, though married
to the most beautiful and the best woman in the East, the Lady
Beatrice, was so given over to all kinds of licentious excesses and
luxuries that he was, says the historian, covered with infamy. His
daughter married Fulke’s son Amaury, and the evil life of Jocelyn
bore its fruits in the leprosy of his grandson, King Baldwin IV.
Directly the Countess Alice of Antioch heard of her father’s death,
she began to plot and intrigue to break through the settlement made
in her daughter’s favour, and to get the town and principality for
herself. By means of gifts and promises, she drew over to her own
interests young Jocelyn of Edessa, and Pons, Count of Tripoli, and
the people of Antioch, alarmed for their future, sent hastily to the
king for assistance. Fulke went first to Beyrout, whence he intended
to proceed through the territories of the Count of Tripoli to
Antioch. But Pons, though his wife was the king’s own sister,
positively refused to allow him to pass. The king went by sea. Then
Pons followed him with a small army. Fulke, getting together some
troops at Antioch, went out to meet him, and an engagement took
place, in which Pons was defeated, and most of his knights taken
prisoners. After this the Count of Tripoli made his submission, and
was reconciled to the king, who confided the government of Antioch
to Renaud de Margat, and returned to his capital. But there was no
repose for a King of Jerusalem, and the news came that Zanghi, with
a large army, had passed the Euphrates, and was invading the
territory of Antioch. Once more the order for preparation was given,
and the king marched north. When he arrived at Sidon, he was met by
his sister Cæcilia, who told him how her husband was besieged in
Montferrand by the Saracens, and implored the king, with all a
woman’s tears and entreaties, to go first to his assistance. Zanghi
thought best to retire, and raising his camp, got back across the
Euphrates with all his plunder. But he only retired, “_pour mieux
sauter_”” and came back in overwhelming force. And then followed one
more, almost the last, of those splendid victories which seem to
have been won, unless the histories lie, against such fearful odds,
and entirely through the personal valour of each individual
Christian. The reputation of Fulke rose high by this victory, and he
had time to regulate some of his domestic matters. First it became
necessary to get a husband for little Constance of Antioch, in order
to save himself the trouble of perpetually interfering in the
troubles caused by Alice. He could think of no one so suitable as
Raymond of Poitiers. But there were difficulties in the way. Raymond
was in England at the court of Henry I. If deputies were sent
publicly, inviting him to Antioch, Alice would certainly use all her
influence with the Norman princes of Sicily, her late husband’s
cousins, to stop him on the way. A double deceit was therefore
practised. Alice was privately informed that Raymond was sent for to
marry her, not her daughter. Raymond was written to by a special
messenger, a Knight Hospitaller, named Gerard, and ordered to travel
to the East in disguise as a simple pilgrim. These precautions
proved successful. Alice, rejoiced at the prospect of another
gallant husband, ceased her intrigues. Raymond arrived safely in
Antioch, where Alice and the Patriarch were both waiting for him.
And then he was married without the least delay to Constance, a
little girl of eleven or twelve. The Countess Alice, who had been
deceived up to the very hour of the wedding, went away to Laodicea,
mad with rage and disappointment, and we hear no more of her. Fulke
had checkmated her.
His next trouble was on account of her sister, his own wife,
Milicent. At a council held in Jerusalem, one Walter, Count of
Cæsarea, son-in-law to Hugh, Count of Jaffa, rose and accused his
father-in-law of the crime of _lèse-majesté_. The accusation was
prompted by the king himself, who had, or thought he had, good
reason to be jealous of his wife’s relations with Count Hugh. And
accordingly he hated Hugh. The barons heard the charge, and summoned
Hugh to answer it in person, and to defend his honour, _en champ
clos_, against his accuser. On the appointed day Walter of Cæsarea
appeared in arms, but Hugh did not come. Whether that he was guilty,
or whether that he was unwilling to risk his honour and life on the
chance of a single fight, is uncertain. He was accordingly judged
guilty in default, and the king marched against him. But Count Hugh
was not so easily put down. He hastened to Ascalon, and made an
alliance, to the horror of all good Christians, with those
hereditary enemies of the faith, the inhabitants of that town. They
joyfully joined him, and engaged to harass the country while he
defended Jaffa. And then Hugh drew up his bridges, shut his gates,
and sat down, announcing his determination to hold out to the last.
There was no one in the kingdom with so great a reputation as he for
personal bravery; no one so handsome, no one so strong, and no one
of better birth. Moreover, he was the cousin-german to the queen,
which gave him a reason, or at least a pretext, for visiting her
frequently and privately.
But it could not be endured that civil war should rage so close to
the very capital of the realm, and negotiations were entered into
between the contending parties. Finally it was agreed that Hugh
should put away his unnatural alliance with the Saracens, and should
so far acknowledge the sentence of the barons by an exile of three
years. Hugh repaired to Jerusalem with the king, where he waited
till the preparations for his departure should be completed. One
day, while he was playing dice outside a shop in the street, a
Breton knight stabbed him with a sword, and Hugh fell apparently
dead. He was not dead, however, and was ultimately cured of his
wounds, but died in Sicily before the term of his exile was
completed. Everybody thought that King Fulke had ordered the
assassination, but the murderer stoutly declared, in the midst of
the keenest tortures, that he had no accomplices, and that he had
acted solely in what he thought obedience to the will of Heaven.
Fulke ordered his limbs to be broken and cut off one after the
other, all but his tongue, which was left free, in order that full
confession might be made. Queen Milicent’s resentment pursued those
who had compassed the exile of her lover. All who had been concerned
in it went in terror and peril, knowing, “furens quid fœmina
possit;” and even the king found it prudent to make the peace with
his wife, and henceforth, even if he should be jealous, to conceal
that passion as much as possible. But the count died in Sicily, and
the queen’s resentment died with him.
There was not, however, very much more glory awaiting the much
troubled Fulke. Pons, Count of Tripoli, was taken prisoner by the
Damascenes, and being recognised by certain Syrians, living in
Lebanon, was put to death. Evidently the historian is wrong here, as
the time was quite gone by for putting illustrious prisoners to
death. There must have been some special reason for this barbarity.
However, his son Raymond believed the story, and in order to avenge
his death, marched a force to the mountains and brought back to
Tripoli, loaded with irons, all those whom he could catch, as
accessories to the death of his father. There, in presence of all
the people, the poor creatures, who appear to have done nothing at
all, were put to death with different kinds of tortures, all the
most cruel, “in just punishment of their enormous crimes.”
And now the misfortunes of the Christian kingdom began fairly to set
in. The emperor John Comnenus, son of Alexis, was marching across
Asia Minor with the intention of renewing his father’s claims on
Antioch. Raymond sent hurriedly to the king for assistance. Fulke
went northwards again. He arrival in time to hear that Zanghi was
again on Christian soil, ravaging and pillaging. He went to meet
him, and the Christian army was completely and terribly defeated.
Fulke took refuge in the fortress of Montferrand. Raymond of Tripoli
was made prisoner. In this juncture an appeal was made to Jocelyn of
Edessa and Raymond of Antioch to come to their assistance, and the
Patriarch of Jerusalem was ordered to muster every man he could
find.
It was the most critical moment in the history of the kingdom.
Fortunately John Comnenus was too wise to desire the destruction of
the Latin Christians, and he contented himself with the homage of
Raymond of Antioch, and came to their assistance. But the Franks
quarrelled with the Greeks, and were suspicious of their motives.
John retired in disgust with his allies; a year afterwards he came
back again; was insulted by the people of Antioch; was actually
refused permission to go as a pilgrim to Jerusalem, except in
disguise, and was killed by a poisoned arrow, very likely by a
Frank. Thus the Latins lost all hope of succour from Constantinople,
at a time when succour from some quarter was necessary to their very
existence, when the old ardour of crusading which had kept their
ranks full was dying out in Europe, and when their chiefs, the
children of the old princes, were spending their days in slothful
luxury, careless of glory, and anxious only for peace and feasting.
Fulke’s own son-in-law, Thierry of Flanders, arriving at this time
with a large following, the king made use of his men to go across
the Jordan and clear away a nest of brigands which had been
established in a cavern on a mountain side. While they were occupied
in the regular siege of this place, the Turks took advantage of
their absence, and made a predatory incursion into the south of
Palestine, taking and plundering the little town of Tekoa. Robert,
Grand Master of the Templars, went in hot haste against them. They
fled at his approach; but the Christians, instead of keeping
together and following up the victory, dispersed all over the plain.
The Turks rallied, and forming small detachments, turned upon their
pursuers, and slaughtered them nearly all. Among those who were
killed was the famous Templar, Odo of Montfaucon. Fulke was sore
afflicted by the news of this disaster, but persevered in the siege,
and had at least the satisfaction of destroying his robbers.
One more military expedition King Fulke was to make. Allied with the
Emir of Damascus, he laid siege to the town of Baucas, which Zanghi
had taken. The legate of the pope, Alberic of Ostia, was with the
army, and exhorted them to courage and perseverance. After an
obstinate resistance, the town capitulated on honourable terms.
The legate had come from Rome to act as judge between the Patriarch
of Antioch and the bishops. It is not easy to make out how these
quarrels arose, nor is it edifying to relate the progress of
squabbles which were chiefly ecclesiastical. Alberic of Ostia had
been recalled, and a new legate, Peter, Archbishop of Lyons, sent
out in his stead. The charges against the patriarch were chiefly
that he refused to submit to Rome. William of Tyre gives the whole
story of the trial and consequent deposition of the patriarch. He
was taken to a monastery as a prisoner, and kept there for some
time, but succeeded in escaping to Rome, where he pleaded his own
cause, and was on the point of being reinstated, when he died of
poison.
In the last year of King Fulke three important fortresses were
built, that of Kerak in Moab, that of Ibelin, and that on Tell es
Safiyeh. The fortress of Ibelin, about ten miles from Ascalon, was
on the traditional site of Gath. The citadel built on Tell es
Safiyeh, about eight miles from Ascalon, and called Blanchegarde,
was made the strongest place in Palestine, and played an important
part in the subsequent wars.
One day in 1144, Fulke, walking with the queen in the neighbourhood
of Acre, put up a hare in the grass. Calling for a horse and a
lance, he rode after it; and the horse falling, brought him down
with such violence that he fractured his skull. He lingered four
days in a state of insensibility, and then died, leaving two sons,
of thirteen and seven years respectively, by his wife Milicent.
GENEALOGY OF FULKE.
FULKE LE RECHIN.
│
┌────────────────────┼───────────────┐
│ │ │
= Hildegarde = Hermengarde. │
│ (his first wife). │ │
│ │ │
Hermengarde. Geoffrey Martell. │
│
┌─────────────────┘
│
= Bertrade [= Philip K.
│ de Montford │ of France.
│ ┌────────┼────────┐
Fulke K. of │ │ │
Jerusalem. Florus. Philip. Cæcilia.
│ = Tancred.
│ = Pons of Tripoli.
│ │
│ Raymond.
│
┌─────┴──────────────────────┐
│ │
Ermentrade = = Milicent of
│ Jerusalem.
│ │
┌──────┼─────────┬───────┐ ┌──┴─────┐
│ │ │ │ │ │
│ Elie. │ Matilda.[63] Baldwin Amaury.
│ │ III. │
Geoffrey Plantagenet Sybille │
= Matilda of England. = Thierry C. of Flanders. │
│ │ │
│ │ │
Henry II. of England. &c. ┌──────────┬───┴───┐
│ │ │
Baldwin IV. Sybille. Isabelle.
Footnote 63:
Betrothed to the young prince William, son of Henry I. After his
death she went into a monastery.