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Title: Richard I

Author: Jacob Abbott

Release date: October 17, 2008 [eBook #26939]
                Most recently updated: January 4, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
        Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
        produced from images generously made available by The
        Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD I ***




Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)









 Makers of History

 Richard I.

 BY JACOB ABBOTT

 WITH ENGRAVINGS

 NEW YORK AND LONDON

 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS

 1902




 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight
 hundred and fifty-seven, by

 HARPER & BROTHERS,

 in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the Southern District
 of New York.

 Copyright, 1885, by BENJAMIN VAUGHAN ABBOTT, AUSTIN ABBOTT,
 LYMAN ABBOTT, and EDWARD ABBOTT.




PREFACE.


The author of this series has made it his special object to confine
himself very strictly, even in the most minute details which he
records, to historic truth. The narratives are not tales founded upon
history, but history itself, without any embellishment, or any
deviations from the strict truth so far as it can now be discovered by
an attentive examination of the annals written at the time when the
events themselves occurred. In writing the narratives, the author has
endeavored to avail himself of the best sources of information which
this country affords; and though, of course, there must be in these
volumes, as in all historical accounts, more or less of imperfection
and error, there is no intentional embellishment. Nothing is stated,
not even the most minute and apparently imaginary details, without
what was deemed good historical authority. The readers, therefore, may
rely upon the record as the truth, and nothing but the truth, so far
as an honest purpose and a careful examination have been effectual in
ascertaining it.




CONTENTS.


 Chapter                                                    Page

      I. KING RICHARD'S MOTHER                               13

     II. RICHARD'S EARLY LIFE                                35

    III. FAIR ROSAMOND                                       53

     IV. ACCESSION OF RICHARD TO THE THRONE                  66

      V. THE CORONATION                                      79

     VI. PREPARATIONS FOR THE CRUSADE                        89

    VII. THE EMBARKATION                                    101

   VIII. KING RICHARD AT MESSINA                            117

     IX. BERENGARIA                                         143

      X. THE CAMPAIGN IN CYPRUS                             160

     XI. VOYAGE TO ACRE                                     185

    XII. THE ARRIVAL AT ACRE                                196

   XIII. DIFFICULTIES                                       204

    XIV. THE FALL OF ACRE                                   211

     XV. PROGRESS OF THE CRUSADE                            229

    XVI. REVERSES                                           249

   XVII. THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAINS                       267

  XVIII. THE BATTLE OF JAFFA                                283

    XIX. THE TRUCE                                          297

     XX. THE DEPARTURE FROM PALESTINE                       305

    XXI. RICHARD MADE CAPTIVE                               312

   XXII. THE RETURN TO ENGLAND                              324




ENGRAVINGS.


                                                            Page

 MAP                                                         14

 PREACHING THE CRUSADES                                      19

 PORTRAIT OF KING HENRY II.                                  49

 VIEW OF WOODSTOCK                                           55

 FINAL BURIAL OF ROSAMOND                                    64

 PORTRAIT OF RICHARD I.                                      90

 RICHARD PURSUING HIS JOURNEY                               113

 THE BATTERING-RAM                                          137

 THE BALLISTA                                               139

 THE CATAPULTA                                              140

 THE LETTER                                                 152

 ROUTE OF RICHARD'S FLEET                                   164

 KING RICHARD'S SEAL                                        167

 RAMPARTS OF ACRE                                           189

 THE ASSAULT                                                207

 THROWING SHELLS                                            231

 SALADIN'S PRESENT                                          294

 CASTLE AND TOWN OF TIERNSTEIGN                             321




KING RICHARD I.




CHAPTER I.

KING RICHARD'S MOTHER.

1137-1154

Richard the Crusader.--A quarrelsome king.--Richard's
kingdom.--Union of England and Normandy.--England was a
possession of Normandy.--Eleanora of Aquitaine.--The
contemporaries of Eleanora.--Royal match-making.--The
conditions of the marriage.--Apparent prosperity of
leanora.--Eleanora's accomplishments.--The Crusades.--A monk
preaching the Crusades.--The reasons why Louis and Eleanora
undertook a crusade.--Amazons.--The power of ridicule.--The
plans and purposes of the female Crusaders.--Antioch.--Meeting
the Saracens.--Choosing an encampment.--The result of the queen's
generalship.--A quarrel.--The queen at Jerusalem.--A divorce
proposed.--The failure of the crusade.--Returning to France.--The
queen's new lover.--A divorce again proposed.--The motives of
Henry.--Controversy among historians.--The real motives in the
divorce.--A violent courtship and a narrow escape.--Geoffrey's
designs upon Eleanora.--Customs of old times.--Eleanora eluded
Geoffrey.--She is married to Henry.--Henry's expedition to
England.--His final coronation.--Eleanora Queen of England.


King Richard the First, the Crusader, was a boisterous, reckless, and
desperate man, and he made a great deal of noise in the world in his
day. He began his career very early in life by quarreling with his
father. Indeed, his father, his mother, and all his brothers and
sisters were engaged, as long as the father lived, in perpetual wars
against each other, which were waged with the most desperate
fierceness on all sides. The subject of these quarrels was the
different possessions which the various branches of the family held or
claimed in France and in England, each endeavoring to dispossess the
others. In order to understand the nature of these difficulties, and
also to comprehend fully what sort of a woman Richard's mother was, we
must first pay a little attention to the map of the countries over
which these royal personages held sway.

[Illustration: MAP]

We have already seen, in another volume of this series,[A] how the two
countries of Normandy on the Continent, and of England, became united
under one government. England, however, did not conquer and hold
Normandy; it was Normandy that conquered and held England. The
relative situation of these two countries is shown on the map.
Normandy, it will be seen, was situated in the northern part of
France, being separated from England by the English Channel. Besides
Normandy, the sovereigns of the country held various other possessions
in France, and this French portion of the compound realm over which
they reigned they considered as far the most important portion.
England was but a sort of appendage to their empire.

[Footnote A: History of William the Conqueror.]

You will see by the map the situation of the River Loire. It rises in
the centre of France, and flows to the westward, through a country
which was, even in those days, very fertile and beautiful. South of
the Loire was a sort of kingdom, then under the dominion of a young
and beautiful princess named Eleanora. The name of her kingdom was
Aquitaine. This lady afterward became the mother of Richard. She was
very celebrated in her day, and has since been greatly renowned in
history under the name of Eleanora of Aquitaine.

Eleanora received her realm from her grandfather. Her father had gone
on a crusade with his brother, Eleanora's uncle, Raymond, and had
been killed in the East. Raymond had made himself master of Antioch.
We shall presently hear of this Raymond again. The grandfather
abdicated in Eleanora's favor when she was about fourteen years of
age. There were two other powerful sovereigns in France at this time,
Louis, King of France, who reigned in Paris, and Henry, Duke of
Normandy and King of England. King Louis of France had a son, the
Prince Louis, who was heir to the crown. Eleanora's grandfather formed
the scheme of marrying her to this Prince Louis, and thus to unite his
kingdom to hers. He himself was tired of ruling, and wished to resign
his power, with a view of spending the rest of his days in penitence
and prayer. He had been a very wicked man in his day, and now, as he
was growing old, he was harassed by remorse for his sins, and wished,
if possible, to make some atonement for them by his penances before he
died.

So he called all his barons together, and laid his plans before them.
They consented to them on two conditions. One was, that Eleanora
should first see Louis, and say whether she was willing to have him
for her husband. If not, she was not to be compelled to marry him. The
other condition was, that their country, Aquitaine, was not to be
combined with the dominions of the King of France after the marriage,
but was to continue a separate and independent realm, to be governed
by Louis and Eleanora, not as King and Queen of France, but as Duke
and Duchess of Aquitaine. Both these conditions were complied with.
The interview was arranged between Louis and Eleanora, and Eleanora
concluded that she should like the king for a husband very much. At
least she said so, and the marriage was concluded.

Indeed, the match thus arranged for Eleanora was, in all worldly
respects, the most eligible one that could be made. Her husband was
the heir-apparent to the throne of France. His capital was Paris,
which was then, as now, the great centre in Europe of all splendor and
gayety. The father of Louis was old, and not likely to live long;
indeed, he died very soon after the marriage, and thus Eleanora, when
scarcely fifteen, became Queen of France as well as Duchess of
Aquitaine, and was thus raised to the highest pinnacle of worldly
grandeur.

She was young and beautiful, and very gay in her disposition, and she
entered at once upon a life of pleasure. She had been well educated.
She could sing the songs of the Troubadours, which was the
fashionable music of those days, in a most charming manner. Indeed,
she composed music herself, and wrote lines to accompany it. She was
quite celebrated for her learning, on account of her being able both
to read and write: these were rare accomplishments for ladies in those
days.

She spent a considerable portion of her time in Paris, at the court of
her husband, but then she often returned to Aquitaine, where she held
a sort of court of her own in Bordeaux, which was her capital. She led
this sort of life for some time, until at length she was induced to
form a design of going to the East on a crusade. The Crusades were
military expeditions which went from the western countries of Europe
to conquer Palestine from the Turks, in order to recover possession of
Jerusalem and of the sepulchre where the body of Christ was laid.

It had been for some time the practice for the princes and knights,
and other potentates of France and England, to go on these
expeditions, on account of the fame and glory which those who
distinguished themselves acquired. The people were excited, moreover,
to join the Crusades by the preachings of monks and hermits, who
harangued them in public places and urged them to go. At these
assemblages the monks held up symbols of the crucifixion, to inspire
their zeal, and promised them the special favor of heaven if they
would go. They said that whoever devoted himself to this great cause
should surely be pardoned for all the sins and crimes that he had
committed, whatever they might be; and whenever they heard of the
commission of any great crimes by potentates or rulers, they would
seize upon the occasion to urge the guilty persons to go and fight for
the cross in Palestine, as a means of wiping away their guilt.

[Illustration: PREACHING THE CRUSADES.]

One of these preachers charged such a crime upon Louis, the husband
of Eleanora. It seems that, in a quarrel which he had with one of his
neighbors, he had sent an armed force to invade his enemy's dominions,
and in storming a town a cathedral had been set on fire and burned,
and fifteen hundred persons, who had taken refuge in it as a
sanctuary, had perished in the flames. Now it was a very great crime,
according to the ideas of those times, to violate a sanctuary; and the
hermit-preacher urged Louis to go on a crusade in order to atone for
the dreadful guilt he had incurred by not only violating a sanctuary,
but by overwhelming, in doing it, so many hundreds of innocent women
and children in the awful suffering of being burned to death. So Louis
determined to go on a crusade, and Eleanora determined to accompany
him. Her motive was a love of adventure and a fondness for notoriety.
She thought that by going out, a young and beautiful princess, at the
head of an army of Crusaders, into the East, she would make herself a
renowned heroine in the eyes of the whole world. So she immediately
commenced her preparations, and by the commanding influence which she
exerted over the ladies of the court, she soon inspired them all with
her own romantic ardor.

The ladies at once laid aside their feminine dress, and clothed
themselves like Amazons, so that they could ride astride on horseback
like men. All their talk was of arms, and armor, and horses, and
camps. They endeavored, too, to interest all the men--the princes, and
barons, and knights that surrounded them--in their plans, and to
induce them to join the expedition. A great many did so, but there
were some that shook their heads and seemed inclined to stay at home.
They knew that so wild and heedless a plan as this could end in
nothing but disaster. The ladies ridiculed these men for their
cowardice and want of spirit, and they sent them their distaffs as
presents. "We have no longer any use for the distaffs," said they,
"but, as you are intending to stay at home and make women of
yourselves, we send them to you, so that you may occupy yourselves
with spinning while we are gone." By such taunts and ridicule as this,
a great many were shamed into joining the expedition, whose good sense
made them extremely averse to have any thing to do with it.

The expedition was at length organized and prepared to set forth. It
was encumbered by the immense quantity of baggage which the queen and
her party of women insisted on taking. It is true that they had
assumed the dress of Amazons, but this was only for the camp and the
field. They expected to enjoy a great many pleasures while they were
gone, to give and receive a great many entertainments, and to live in
luxury and splendor in the great cities of the East. So they must
needs take with them large quantities of baggage, containing dresses
and stores of female paraphernalia of all kinds. The king remonstrated
against this folly, but all to no purpose. The ladies thought it very
hard if, in going on such an expedition, they could not take with them
the usual little comforts and conveniences appropriate to their sex.
So it ended with their having their own way.

The caprices and freaks of these women continued to harass and
interfere with the expedition during the whole course of it. The army
of Crusaders reached at length a place near Antioch, in Asia Minor,
where they encountered the Saracens. Antioch was then in the
possession of the Christians. It was under the command of the Prince
Raymond, who has already been spoken of as Eleanora's uncle. Raymond
was a young and very handsome prince, and Eleanora anticipated great
pleasure in visiting his capital. The expedition had not, however,
yet reached it, but were advancing through the country, defending
themselves as well as they could against the troops of Arab horsemen
that were harassing their march.

The commanders were greatly perplexed in this emergency to know what
to do with the women, and with their immense train of baggage. The
king at last sent them on in advance, with all his best troops to
accompany them. He directed them to go on, and encamp for the night on
certain high ground which he designated, where they would be safe, he
said, from an attack by the Arabs. But when they approached the place,
Eleanora found a green and fertile valley near, which was very
romantic and beautiful, and she decided at once that this was a much
prettier place to encamp in than the bare hill above. The officers in
command of the troops remonstrated in vain. Eleanora and the ladies
insisted on encamping in the valley. The consequence was, that the
Arabs came and got possession of the hill, and thus put themselves
between the division of the army which was with Eleanora and that
which was advancing under the king. A great battle was fought. The
French were defeated. A great many thousand men were slain. All the
provisions for the army were cut off, and all the ladies' baggage was
seized and plundered by the Arabs. The remainder of the army, with the
king, and the queen, and the ladies, succeeded in making their escape
to Antioch, and there Prince Raymond opened the gates and let them in.

As soon as Eleanora and the other ladies recovered a little from their
fright and fatigue, they began to lead very gay lives in Antioch, and
before long a serious quarrel broke out between Louis and the queen.
The cause of this quarrel was Raymond. He was a young and handsome
man, and he soon began to show such fondness for Eleanora that the
king's jealousy was aroused, and at length the king discerned, as he
said, proofs of such a degree of intimacy between them as to fill him
with rage. He determined to leave Antioch immediately, and take
Eleanora with him. She was very unwilling to go, but the king was so
angry that he compelled her to accompany him. So he went away
abruptly, scarcely bidding Raymond good-by at all, and proceeded with
Eleanora and nearly all his company to Jerusalem. Eleanora submitted,
though she was exceedingly out of humor.

The king, too, on his part, was as much out of humor as the queen. He
determined that he would not allow her to accompany him any more on
the campaign; so he left her at Jerusalem, a sort of prisoner, while
he put himself at the head of his army and went forth to prosecute the
war. By-and-by, when he came back to Jerusalem, and inquired about his
wife's conduct while he had been gone, he learned some facts in
respect to the intimacy which she had formed with a prince of the
country during his absence, that made him more angry than ever. He
declared that he would sue for a divorce. She was a wicked woman, he
said, and he would repudiate her.

One of his ministers, however, contrived to appease him, at least so
far as to induce him to abandon this design. The minister did not
pretend to say that Eleanora was innocent, or that she did not deserve
to be repudiated, but he said that if the divorce was to be carried
into effect, then Louis would lose all claim to Eleanora's
possessions, for it will be recollected that the dukedom of Aquitaine,
and the other rich possessions which belonged to Eleanora before her
marriage, continued entirely separate from the kingdom of France, and
still belonged to her.

The king and Eleanora had a daughter named Margaret, who was now a
young child, but who, when she grew up, would inherit both her
father's and her mother's possessions, and thus, in the end, they
would be united, if the king and queen continued to live together in
peace. But this would be all lost, as the minister maintained in his
argument with the king, in case of a divorce.

"If you are divorced from her," said he, "she will soon be married
again, and then all her possessions will finally go out of your
family."

So the king concluded to submit to the shame of his wife's dishonor,
and still keep her as his wife. But he had now lost all interest in
the crusade, partly on account of his want of success in it, and
partly on account of his domestic troubles. So he left the Holy Land,
and took the queen and the ladies, and the remnant of his troops, back
again to Paris. Here he and the queen lived very unhappily together
for about two years.

At the end of this time the queen became involved in new difficulties
in consequence of her intrigues. The time had passed away so rapidly
that it was now thirteen years since her marriage, and she was about
twenty-eight years of age--old enough, one would think, to have
learned some discretion. After, however, amusing herself with various
lovers, she at length became enamored of a young prince named Henry
Plantagenet, who afterward became Henry the Second of England, and was
the father of Richard, the hero of this history. Henry was at this
time Duke of Normandy. He came to visit the court of Louis in Paris,
and here, after a short time, Eleanora conceived the idea of being
divorced from Louis in order to marry him. Henry was a great deal
younger than Eleanora, being then only about eighteen years of age;
but he was very agreeable in his person and manners, and Queen
Eleanora was quite charmed with him. It was not, however, to be
expected that he should be so much charmed with her; for, although she
had been very beautiful, she had now so far passed the period of her
youth, and had been subjected to so many exposures, that the bloom of
her early beauty was in a great measure gone. She was now nearly
thirty years old, having been married twelve or thirteen years. She,
however, made eager advances to Henry, and finally gave him to
understand, that if he would consent to marry her, she would obtain a
divorce from King Louis, and then endow him with all her dominions.

Now there was a strong reason operating upon Henry's mind to accept
this proposal. He claimed to be entitled to the crown of England. King
Stephen was at this time reigning in England, but Henry maintained
that he was a usurper, and he was eager to dispossess him. Eleanora
represented to Henry that, with all the forces of her dominions, she
could easily enable him to do that, and so at length the idea of
making himself a king overcame his natural repugnance to take a wife
almost twice as old as he was himself, and she, too, the divorced and
discarded wife of another man. So he agreed to Eleanora's proposal,
and measures were soon taken to effect the divorce.

There is some dispute among the ancient historians in respect to this
divorce. Some say that it was the king that originated it, and that
the cause which he alleged was the freedom of the queen in her love
for other men, and that Eleanora, when she found that the divorce was
resolved upon, formed the plan of beguiling young Henry into a
marriage with her, to save her fall. Others say that the divorce was
her plan alone, and that the pretext for it was the relationship that
existed between her and King Louis, for they were in some degree
related to each other; and the rules of the Church of Rome were very
strict against such marriages. It is not improbable, however, that the
real reason of the divorce was that the king desired it on account of
his wife's loose and irregular character, while Eleanora wished for it
in order to have a more agreeable husband. She never had liked Louis.
He was a very grave and even gloomy man, who thought of nothing but
the Church, and his penances and prayers, so that Eleanora said he was
more of a monk than a king. This monkish turn of mind had increased
upon the king since his return from the Crusades. He made it a matter
of conscience to wear coarse and plain clothes instead of dressing
handsomely like a king, and he cut off the curls of his hair, which
had been very beautiful, and shaved his head and his mustaches. This
procedure disgusted Eleanora completely. She despised her husband
herself, and ridiculed him to others, saying that he had made himself
look like an old priest. In a word, all her love for him was entirely
gone. Both parties being thus very willing to have the marriage
annulled, they agreed to put it on the ground of their relationship,
in order to avoid scandal.

At any rate, the marriage was dissolved, and Eleanora set out from
Paris to return to Bordeaux, the capital of her own country. Henry was
to meet her on the way. Her road lay along the banks of the Loire.
Here she stopped for a day or two. The count who ruled this province,
who was a very gay and handsome man, offered her his hand. He wished
to add her dominions to his own. Eleanora refused him. The count
resolved not to take the refusal, and, under some pretext or other, he
detained her in his castle, resolving to keep her there until she
should consent. But Eleanora was not a woman to be conquered by such a
method as this. She pretended to acquiesce in the detention, and to be
contented, but this was only to put the count off his guard; and then,
watching her opportunity, she escaped from the castle in the night;
and getting into a boat, which she had caused to be provided for the
purpose, she went down the river to the town of Tours, which was some
distance below, and in the dominions of another sovereign.

In going on from Tours toward her own home, she encountered and
narrowly escaped another danger. It seems that Geoffrey Plantagenet,
the brother of Henry, whom she had engaged to marry, conceived the
design of seizing her and compelling her to marry him instead of his
brother. It may seem strange that any one should be so unprincipled
and base as to attempt thus to circumvent his own brother, and take
away from him his intended wife; but it was not a strange thing at all
for the members of the royal and princely families of those days to
act in this manner toward each other. It was the usual and established
condition of things among these families that the different members of
them should be perpetually intriguing and manoeuvring one against
the other, brother against sister, husband against wife, and father
against son. In a vast number of instances these contentions broke out
into open war, and the wars thus waged between the nearest relatives
were of the most desperate and merciless character.

It was therefore a very moderate and inconsiderable deed of brotherly
hostility on the part of Geoffrey to plan the seizure of his brother's
intended wife, in order to get possession of her dominions. The plan
which he formed was to lie in wait for the boat which was to convey
Eleanora down the river, and seize her as she came by. She, however,
avoided this snare by turning off into a branch of the river which
came from the south. You will see the course of the river and the
situation of this southern branch on the map.[B] The branch which
Eleanora followed not only took her away from the ambush which
Geoffrey had laid for her, but conducted her toward her own home,
where, after meeting with various other adventures, she arrived safely
at last. Here Henry Plantagenet soon joined her, and they were
married. The marriage took place only six weeks after her divorce from
her former husband. This was considered a very scandalous transaction
throughout, and Eleanora was now considered as having forfeited all
claims to respectability of character. Still she was a great duchess
in her own right, and was now wife of the heir-apparent of the English
throne, and so her character made little difference in the estimation
in which she was held by the world.

[Footnote B: See page 14.]

From the time of her first engagement with Henry nearly two years had
elapsed before all the proceedings in relation to the divorce had been
completed so as to prepare the way for the marriage, and now Eleanora
was about thirty-two years of age, while Henry was only twenty. Henry
seems to have felt no love for his wife. He had acceded to her
proposal to marry him only in order to obtain the assistance which the
forces of her dominions might supply him in gaining possession of the
English throne.

Accordingly, about a year after the marriage, a military expedition
was fitted out to proceed to England. The expedition consisted of
thirty-six ships, and a large force of fighting men. Henry landed in
England at the head of this force, and advanced against Stephen. The
two princes fought for some time without any very decisive success on
either side, when at length they concluded to settle the quarrel by a
compromise. It was agreed that Stephen should continue to hold the
crown as long as he lived, and then that Henry should succeed him.
When this arrangement had been made, Henry returned to Normandy; and
then, after two or three years, he heard of Stephen's death. He then
went immediately to England again, and was universally acknowledged as
king. Eleanora went with him as queen, and very soon they were crowned
at Westminster with the greatest possible pomp and parade.

And thus it was that Eleanora of Aquitaine, the mother of Richard, in
the year eleven hundred and fifty-four, became queen-consort of
England.




CHAPTER II.

RICHARD'S EARLY LIFE.

1154-1184

The sons and daughters of King Henry.--Rebellions and family
quarrels.--The appearance of the Queen Eleanora in
London.--Illuminated portraits.--The queen's attire.--The king's
attire.--The palace at Bermondsey.--Scenes of festivity.--The
palace at Oxford.--Its present appearance.--An early
marriage.--The reason for marrying children four years
old.--Vice-regencies.--The rebellions of Richard.--Eleanora's
time of suffering comes.--The queen's flight.--The captivity in
Winchester.--The message from Henry.--His death.--Remorse.--The
agonies of a wicked man's death.--Affliction reconciles hostile
relatives.--Another quarrel.--Richard's long engagement.--The
sad death of Geoffrey.--Dividing the inheritance.--Portrait
of King Henry II.--Richard's resistance to his father's
plans.--Assistance from Philip.--King Henry's reproach of his
son John.--Lady Rosamond.


Almost all the early years of the life of our hero were spent in wars
which were waged by the different members of his father's family
against each other. These wars originated in the quarrels that arose
between the sons and their father in respect to the family property
and power. Henry had five sons, of whom Richard was the third. He had
also three daughters. The king held a great variety of possessions,
having inherited from his father and grandfather, or received through
his wife, a number of distinct and independent realms. Thus he was
duke of one country, earl of another, king of a third, and count of a
fourth. England was his kingdom, Normandy was his great dukedom, and
he held, besides, various other realms. He was a generous father, and
he began early by conveying some of these provinces to his sons. But
they were not contented with the portions that he voluntarily assigned
them. They called for more. Sometimes the father yielded to these
unreasonable demands, but yielding only made the young men more
grasping than before, and at length the father would resist. Then came
rebellions, and leagues formed by the sons against the father, and the
musterings of armies, and battles, and sieges. The mother generally
took part with the sons in these unnatural contests, and in the course
of them the most revolting spectacles were presented to the eyes of
the world--of towns belonging to a father sacked and burned by the
sons, or castles beleaguered, and the garrisons reduced to famine, in
which a husband was defending himself against the forces of his wife,
or a sister against those of a brother. Richard himself, who seems to
have been the most desperate and reckless of the family, began to take
an active part in these rebellions against his father when he was only
seventeen years old.

These wars continued, with various temporary interruptions, for many
years, and whenever at any time a brief peace was made between the
sons and the father, then the young men would usually fall to
quarreling among themselves. Indeed, Henry, the oldest of them, said
that the only possible bond of peace between the brothers seemed to
be a common war against their father.

Nor did the king live on much better terms with his wife than he did
with his children. At the time of Eleanora's marriage with Henry, her
prospects were bright indeed. The people of England, notwithstanding
the evil reports that were spread in respect to her character,
received her as their queen with much enthusiasm, and on the occasion
of her coronation they made a great deal of parade to celebrate the
event. Her appearance at that time attracted unusual attention. This
was partly on account of her personal attractions and partly on
account of her dress. The style of her dress was quite Oriental. She
had brought home with her from Antioch a great many Eastern fashions,
and many elegant articles of dress, such as mantles of silk and
brocade, scarfs, jeweled girdles and bands, and beautiful veils, such
as are worn at the East. These dresses were made at Constantinople,
and when displayed by the queen in London they received a great deal
of admiration.

We can see precisely how the queen looked in these dresses by means of
illuminated portraits of her contained in the books written at that
time. It was the custom in those days in writing books--the work of
which was all executed by hand--to embellish them with what were
called illuminations. These were small paintings inserted here and
there upon the page, representing the distinguished personages named
in the writing. These portraits were painted in very brilliant colors,
and there are several still remaining that show precisely how Eleanora
appeared in one of her Oriental dresses. She wears a close head-dress,
with a circlet of gems over it. There is a gown made with tight
sleeves, and fastened with full gathers just below the throat, where
it is confined by a rich collar of gems. Over this is an elegant outer
robe bordered with fur. The sleeves of the outer robe are very full
and loose, and are lined with ermine. They open so as to show the
close sleeves beneath. Over all is a long and beautiful gauze veil.

The dress of the king was very rich and gorgeous too; and so, indeed,
was that of all the ecclesiastics and other dignitaries that took part
in the celebration. All London was filled with festivity and rejoicing
on the occasion, and the queen's heart overflowed with pride and joy.

After the coronation, the king conducted Eleanora to a beautiful
country residence called Bermondsey, which was at a short distance
from London, toward the south. Here there was a palace, and gardens,
and beautiful grounds. The palace was on an elevation which commanded
a fine view of the capital. Here the queen lived in royal state. She
had, however, other palaces besides, and she often went to and fro
among her different residences. She contrived a great many
entertainments to amuse her court, such as comedies, games, revels,
and celebrations of all sorts. The king joined with her in these
schemes of pleasure. One of the historians of the time gives a curious
account of the appearance of the king and the court in their
excursions. "When the king sets out of a morning, you see multitudes
of people running up and down as if they were distracted--horses
rushing against horses, carriages overturning carriages, players,
gamesters, cooks, confectioners, morrice-dancers, barbers, courtezans,
and parasites--making so much noise, and, in a word, such an
intolerable tumultuous jumble of horse and foot, that you can imagine
the great abyss hath opened and poured forth all its inhabitants."

It was about three years after Eleanora was crowned Queen of England
that Richard was born. At the time of his birth, the queen was
residing at a palace in Oxford. The palace has gone pretty much to
ruin. The building is now used in part as a work-house. The room where
Richard was born is roofless and uninhabitable. Nothing even of the
interior of it remains except some traces of the fire-place. The room,
however, though thus completely gone to ruin, is a place of
considerable interest to the English people, who visit it in great
numbers in order that they may see the place where the great hero was
born; for, desperate and reckless as Richard's character was, the
people of England are quite proud of him on account of his undaunted
bravery.

It is very curious that the first important event of Richard's
childhood was his marriage. He was married when he was about four
years old--that is, he was regularly and formally affianced, and a
ceremony which might be called the marriage ceremony was duly
performed. His bride was a young child of Louis, King of France. The
child was about three years old. Her name was Alice. This marriage was
the result of a sort of bargain between Henry, Richard's father, and
Louis, the French king. They had had a fierce dispute about the
portion of another of Louis's children that had been married in the
same way to one of Richard's brothers named Henry. The English king
complained that the dowry was not sufficient, and the French king,
after a long discussion, agreed to make it up by giving another
province with his daughter Alice to Richard. The reason that induced
the King of England to effect these marriages was, that the provinces
that were bestowed with their infant wives as their dowries came into
his hands as the guardian of their husbands while they were minors,
and thus extended, as it were, his own dominions.

By this time the realms of King Henry had become very extensive. He
inherited Normandy, you will recollect, from his ancestors, and he was
in possession of that country before he became King of England. When
he was married to Eleanora, he acquired through her a large addition
to his territory by becoming, jointly with her, the sovereign of her
realms in the south of France. Then, when he became King of England,
his power was still more extended, and, finally, by the marriages of
his sons, the young princes, he received other provinces besides,
though, of course, he held these last only as the guardian of his
children. Now, in governing these various realms, the king was
accustomed to leave his wife and his sons in different portions of
them, to rule them in his absence, though still under his command.
They each maintained a sort of court in the city where their father
left them, but they were expected to govern the several portions of
the country in strict subjection to their father's general control.
The boys, however, as they grew older, became more and more
independent in feeling; and the queen, being a great deal older than
her husband, and having been, before her marriage, a sovereign in her
own right, was disposed to be very little submissive to his authority.
It was under these circumstances that the family quarrels arose that
led to the wars spoken of at the beginning of the chapter. Richard
himself, as was there stated, began to raise rebellions against his
father when he was about seventeen years old.

Whenever, in the course of these wars, the young men found themselves
worsted in their contests with their father's troops, their resource
was to fly to Paris, in order to get King Louis to aid them. This
Louis was always willing to do, for he took great pleasure in the
dissensions which were thus continually breaking out in Henry's
family.

Besides these wars, Queen Eleanora had one great and bitter source of
trouble in a guilty attachment which her husband cherished for a
beautiful lady more nearly of his own age than his wife was. Her name
was Rosamond. She is known in history as Fair Rosamond. A full account
of her will be given in the next chapter. All that is necessary to
state here is that Queen Eleanora was made very wretched by her
husband's love for Rosamond, though she had scarcely any right to
complain, for she had, as it would seem, done all in her power to
alienate the affections of her husband from herself by the levity of
her conduct, and by her bold and independent behavior in all respects.
At last, at one time while she was at Bordeaux, the capital of her
realm of Aquitaine, she heard rumors that the king was intending to
obtain a divorce from her, in order that he might openly marry
Rosamond, and she determined to go back to her former husband, Louis
of France. The country, however, was full of castles, which were
garrisoned by Henry's troops, and she was afraid that they would
prevent her going if they knew of her intention; so she contrived a
plan of disguising herself in man's clothes, and undertook to make
her escape in that way. She succeeded in getting away from Bordeaux,
but her flight was soon discovered, and the officers of the garrison
immediately sent off a party to pursue her. The pursuers overtook her
before she had gone far, and brought her back. They treated her quite
roughly, and kept her a prisoner in Bordeaux until her husband came.
When Henry arrived he was quite angry with the queen for having thus
undertaken to go back to her former husband, whom he considered as his
greatest rival and enemy, and he determined that she should have no
opportunity to make another such attempt; so he kept a very strict
watch over her, and subjected her to so much restraint that she
considered herself a prisoner.

The king had a quarrel also at this time with one of his
daughters-in-law, and he made her a prisoner too. Soon after this he
went back to England, taking these two captives in his train. In a
short time he sent the queen to a certain palace which he had in
Winchester, and there he kept her confined for sixteen years. It was
during this period of their mother's captivity that the wars between
the father and his sons was waged most fiercely.

At length, in the year eleven hundred and eighty-two, in the midst of
one of the most violent wars that had raged between the king and his
sons, a message came to the king that his son Henry was very
dangerously sick, and that he wished his father to come and see him.
The king was greatly at a loss what to do on receiving this
communication. His counselors advised him not to go. It was only a
stratagem, they said, on the part of the young prince, to get his
father into his camp, and so take him prisoner. So the king concluded
not to go. He had, however, some misgivings that his son might be
really sick, and accordingly dispatched an archbishop to him with a
ring, which he said he sent to him as a token of his forgiveness and
of his paternal affection. Very soon, however, a second messenger came
to the king to say that Prince Henry had died. These sad tidings
overwhelmed the heart of the king with the most poignant grief. He at
once forgot all the undutiful and disobedient conduct of his son, and
remembered him only as his dearly-beloved child. He became almost
broken-hearted.

The prince himself, on his death-bed, was borne down with remorse and
anguish in thinking of the crimes that he had committed against his
father. He longed to have his father come and see him before he died.
The ring which the archbishop was sent to bring to him arrived just in
time, and the prince pressed it to his lips, and blessed it with tears
of frantic grief. As the hour of death approached his remorse became
dreadful. All the attempts made by the priests around his bed to
soothe and quiet him were unavailing, and at last his agony became so
great that he compelled them to put a rope around him and drag him
from his bed to a heap of ashes, placed for the purpose in his room,
that he might die there. A heap of ashes, he said, was the only fit
place for such a reprobate as he had been.

So will it be with all undutiful children; when on their death-beds,
they reflect on their disobedient and rebellious conduct toward the
father and the mother to whom they owe their being.

It is remarkable how great an effect a death in a family produces in
reconciling those who before had been at enmity with each other. There
are many husbands and wives who greatly disagree with each other in
times of health and prosperity, but who are reconciled and made to
love each other by adversity and sorrow. Such was the effect produced
upon the minds of Henry and Eleanora by the death of their son and
heir. They were both overwhelmed with grief, for the affection which a
parent bears to a child is never wholly extinguished, however
undutiful and rebellious a child may be; and the grief which the two
parents now felt in common brought them to a reconciliation. The king
seemed disposed to forgive the queen for the offenses, whether real or
imaginary, which she had committed against him. "Now that our dear son
is dead and gone," said he, "let us no longer quarrel with each
other." So he liberated the queen from the restraint which he had
imposed upon her, and restored her once more to her rank as an English
queen.

This state of things continued for about a year, and then the old
spirit of animosity and contention burned up once more as fiercely as
ever. The king shut up Eleanora again, and a violent quarrel broke out
between the king and his son Richard.

The cause of this quarrel was connected with the Princess Alice, to
whom it will be recollected Richard had been betrothed in his infancy.
Richard claimed that now, since he was of age, his wife ought to be
given to him, but his father kept her away, and would not allow the
marriage to be consummated. The king made various excuses and pretexts
for the delay. Some thought that the real reason was that he wished to
continue his guardianship and his possession of the dower as long as
possible, but Richard thought that his father was in love with Alice
himself, and that he did not intend that he, Richard, should have her
at all. This difficulty led to new quarrels, in which the king and
Richard became more exasperated with each other than ever. This state
of things continued until Richard was thirty-four years old and his
bride was thirty. Richard was so far bound to her that he could not
marry any other lady, and his father obstinately persisted in
preventing his completing the marriage with her.

[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF KING HENRY II.]

In the mean time Prince Geoffrey, another of the king's sons, came to
a miserable end. He was killed in a tournament. He was riding
furiously in the tournament in the midst of a great number of other
horsemen, when he was unfortunately thrown from his steed, and trodden
to death on the ground by the hoofs of the other horses that galloped
over him. The only two sons that were now left were Richard and John.
Of these, Richard was now the oldest, and he was, of course, his
father's heir. King Henry, however, formed a plan for dividing his
dominions between his two sons, instead of allowing Richard to inherit
the whole. John was his youngest son, and, as such, the king loved him
tenderly. So he conceived the idea of leaving to Richard all his
possessions in France, which constituted the most important part of
his dominions, and of bestowing the kingdom of England upon John; and,
in order to make sure of the carrying of this arrangement into effect,
he proposed crowning John king of England forthwith.

Richard, however, determined to resist this plan. The former king of
France, Louis the Seventh, was now dead, and his son, Philip the
Second, the brother of Alice, reigned in his stead. Richard
immediately set off for Paris, and laid his case before the young
French king. "I am engaged," said he, "to your sister Alice, and my
father will not give her to me. Help me to maintain my rights and
hers."

Philip, like his father, was always ready to do any thing in his power
to foment dissensions in the family of Henry. So he readily took
Richard's part in this new quarrel, and he, somehow or other,
contrived means to induce John to come and join in the rebellion. King
Henry was overwhelmed with grief when he learned that John, his
youngest, and now his dearest child, and the last that remained, had
abandoned him. His grief was mingled with resentment and rage. He
invoked the bitterest curses on his children's heads, and he caused a
device to be painted for John and sent to him, representing a young
eaglet picking out the parent eagle's eyes. This was to typify to him
his own undutiful and unnatural behavior.

Thus the domestic life which Richard led while he was a young man was
imbittered by the continual quarrels between the father, the mother,
and the children. The greatest source of sorrow to his mother,
however, was the connection which subsisted between the king and the
Lady Rosamond. The nature and the results of this connection will be
explained in the next chapter.




CHAPTER III.

FAIR ROSAMOND.

1184

The mystery surrounding Fair Rosamond's history.--The valley
of the Wye.--The clandestine marriage.--The palace of
Woodstock.--Rosamond's concealed cottage.--The construction
of a labyrinth.--Deceptive paths.--How Rosamond's concealment
was discovered by the queen.--The subterranean
passage.--Uncertainties of the story.--Rosamond retires to the
convent of Godestow.--The world's sympathy with Rosamond rather
than with Eleanora.--The question of the validity of the
marriage.--Burial of Rosamond.--The bishop orders the remains to
be removed.--The nuns bring back the remains to the chapel
again.--Rosamond's chamber.--Restoration of the house.


During his lifetime King Henry did every thing in his power, of
course, to keep the circumstances of his connection with Rosamond a
profound secret, and to mislead people as much as possible in regard
to her. After his death, too, it was for the interest of his family
that as little as possible should be known respecting her. Thus it
happened that, in the absence of all authentic information, a great
many strange rumors and legends were put in circulation, and at
length, when the history of those times came to be written, it was
impossible to separate the false from the true.

The truth, however, so far as it can now be ascertained, seems to be
something like this: Rosamond was the daughter of an English nobleman
named Clifford. Lord Clifford lived in a fine old castle situated in
the valley of the Wye, in a most romantic and beautiful situation. The
River Wye is in the western part of England. It flows out from among
the mountains of Wales through a wild and romantic gorge, which,
after passing the English frontier, expands into a broad, and fertile,
and most beautiful valley. The castle of Lord Clifford was built at
the opening of the gorge, and it commanded an enchanting view of the
valley below.

It was here that Rosamond spent her childhood, and here probably that
Henry first met her while he was yet a young man. She was extremely
beautiful, and Henry fell very deeply in love with her. This was while
they were both very young, and some time before Henry thought of
Eleanora for his wife. There is some reason to believe that Henry was
really married to Rosamond, though, if so, the marriage was a private
one, and the existence of it was kept a profound secret from all the
world. The real and public marriages of kings and princes are almost
always determined by reasons of state; and when Henry at last went to
Paris, and saw Eleanora there, and found, moreover, that she was
willing to marry him, and to bring him as her dowry all her
possessions in France, which would so greatly extend his dominions, he
determined to accede to her desires, and to keep his connection with
Rosamond, whatever the nature of it might have been, a profound
secret forever.

So he married Eleanora and brought her to England, and lived with her,
as has already been described, in the various palaces which belonged
to him, sometimes in one and sometimes in another.

Among these palaces, one of the most beautiful was that of Woodstock.
The engraving on the opposite page represents the buildings of the
palace as they appeared some hundreds of years later than the time
when Rosamond lived.

[Illustration: VIEW OF WOODSTOCK.]

In the days of Henry and Rosamond the palace of Woodstock was
surrounded with very extensive and beautiful gardens and grounds.
Somewhere upon these grounds the story was that Henry kept Rosamond in
a concealed cottage. The entrance to the cottage was hidden in the
depths of an almost impenetrable thicket, and could only be approached
through a tortuous and intricate path, which led this way and that by
an infinite number of turns, forming a sort of maze, made purposely to
bewilder those attempting to pass in and out. Such a place was often
made in those days in palace-grounds as a sort of ornament, or,
rather, as an amusing contrivance to interest the guests coming to
visit the proprietor. It was called a labyrinth. A great many plans of
labyrinths are found delineated in ancient books. The paths were not
only so arranged as to twist and turn in every imaginable direction,
but at every turn there were several branches made so precisely alike
that there was nothing to distinguish one from the other. Of course,
one of these roads was the right one, and led to the centre of the
labyrinth, where there was a house, or a pretty seat with a view, or a
garden, or a shady bower, or some other object of attraction, to
reward those who should succeed in getting in. The other paths led
nowhere, or, rather, they led on through various devious windings in
all respects similar to those of the true path, until at length they
came to a sudden stop, and the explorer was obliged to return.

The paths were separated from each other by dense hedges of thorn, or
by high walls, so that it was impossible to pass from one to another
except by walking regularly along.

It was in a house, entered through such a labyrinth as this, that
Rosamond is said to have lived, on the grounds of the palace of
Woodstock, while Queen Eleanora, as the avowed wife and queen of King
Henry, occupied the palace itself. Of course, the fact that such a
lady was hidden on the grounds was kept a profound secret from the
queen. If this story is true, there were probably other labyrinths on
the grounds, and this one was so surrounded with trees and hedges,
which connected it by insensible gradations with the groves and
thickets of the park, that there was nothing to attract attention to
it particularly, and thus a lady might have remained concealed in it
for some time without awakening suspicion.

At any rate, Rosamond did remain, it is supposed for a year or two,
concealed thus, until at length the queen discovered the secret. The
story is that the king found his way in and out the labyrinth by means
of a clew of floss silk, and that the queen one day, when riding with
the king in the park, observed this clew, a part of which had, in some
way or other, become attached to his spur. She said nothing, but,
watching a private opportunity, she followed the clew. It led by a
very intricate path into the heart of the labyrinth. There the queen
found a curiously-contrived door. The door was almost wholly concealed
from view, but the queen discovered it and opened it. She found that
it led into a subterranean passage. The interest and curiosity of the
queen were now excited more than ever, and she determined that the
mystery should be solved. So she followed the passage, and was finally
led by it to a place beyond the wall of the grounds, where there was a
house in a very secluded spot surrounded by thickets. Here the queen
found Rosamond sitting in a bower, and engaged in embroidering.

She was now in a great rage both against Rosamond and against her
husband. It was generally said that she poisoned Rosamond. The story
was, that she took a cup of poison with her, and a dagger, and,
presenting them both to Rosamond, compelled her to choose between
them, and that Rosamond chose the poison, and, drinking it, died. This
story, however, was not true, for it is now known that Rosamond lived
many years after this time, though she was separated from the king. It
is thought that her connection with the king continued for about two
years after his marriage with Eleanora. She then left him. It may be
that she did not know before that time that the king was married. She
may have supposed that she was herself his lawful wife, as, indeed, it
is possible that she may actually have been so. At any rate, soon
after she and Eleanora became acquainted with each other's existence,
Rosamond retired to a convent, and lived there in complete seclusion
all the rest of her days.

The name of this convent was Godestow. It was situated near Oxford.
Rosamond became a great favorite with the nuns while she remained at
the convent, which was nearly twenty years. During this time the king
made many donations to the convent for Rosamond's sake, and the
jealousy of the queen against her beautiful rival, of course,
continued unabated. It was, indeed, this difficulty in respect to
Rosamond that was one of the chief causes of the domestic trouble
which always existed between Henry and the queen. The world at large
have always been most disposed to sympathize with Rosamond in this
quarrel. She was nearly of the king's own age, and his attachment to
her arose, doubtless, from sincere affection; whereas the queen was
greatly his senior, and had inveigled him, as it were, into a marriage
with her, through motives of the most calculating and mercenary
character.

Then, moreover, Rosamond either was, or was supposed to be, a lady of
great gentleness and loveliness of spirit. She was very kind to the
poor, and while in the convent she was very assiduously devoted to her
religious duties. Eleanora, on the other hand, was a very unprincipled
and heartless woman, and she had been so loose and free in her own
manner of living too, as every body said and believed, that it was
with a very ill grace that she could find any fault with her husband.

Thus, under the circumstances of the case, the world has always been
most inclined to sympathize with Rosamond rather than with the queen.
The question which we ought to sympathize with depends upon which was
really the wife of Henry. He may have been truly married to Rosamond,
or at least some ceremony may have been performed which she honestly
considered as a marriage. If so, she was innocent, and Henry was
guilty for having virtually repudiated this marriage in order to
connect himself with Eleanora for the sake of her kingdom. On the
other hand, if she were not married to Henry, but used her arts to
entice him away from his true wife, then she was deeply in fault. It
is very difficult now to ascertain which of these suppositions is the
correct one. In either case, Henry himself was guilty, toward the one
or the other, of treacherously violating his marriage vows--the most
solemn vows, in some respects, that a man can ever assume.

Rosamond had two children, named William and Geoffrey, and at one time
in the course of his life Henry seemed to acknowledge that they were
his only two children, thus admitting the validity of his marriage
with Rosamond. This admission was contained in an expression which he
used in addressing William on a field of battle when he came toward
him at the head of his troop. "William," said he, "you are my true and
legitimate son. The rest are nobodies." He may, it is true, have only
intended to speak figuratively in saying this, meaning that William
was the only one worthy to be considered as his son, or it may be that
it was an inadvertent and hasty acknowledgment that Rosamond, and not
Eleanora, was his true wife. As time rolled on, however, and the
political arrangements arising out of the marriage with Eleanora and
appointment of her sons to high positions in the state became more and
more extended, the difficulties which the invalidation of the marriage
with Eleanora would produce became very great, and immense interests
were involved in sustaining it. Rosamond's rights, therefore, if she
had any, were wholly overborne, and she was allowed to linger and die
in her nunnery as a private person.

When at length she died, the nuns, who had become greatly attached to
her, caused her to be interred in an honorable manner in the chapel,
but afterward the bishop of the diocese ordered the remains to be
removed. He considered Rosamond as having never been married to the
king, and he said that she was not a proper person to be the subject
of monumental honors in the chapel of a society of nuns; so he sent
the remains away, and ordered them to be interred in the common
burying-ground. If Rosamond was what he supposed her to be, and if he
removed the remains in a proper and respectful manner, he was right in
doing what he did. His motive may have been, however, merely a desire
to please the authorities of his time, who represented, of course, the
heirs of Eleanora, by sealing the stamp of condemnation on the
character and position of her rival.

But, though the authorities may have been pleased with the bishop's
procedure, the nuns were not at all satisfied with it. They not only
felt a strong personal affection for Rosamond, but, as a sisterhood,
they felt grateful to her memory on account of the many benefactions
which the convent had received from Henry on account of her residence
there. So they seized the first opportunity to take up the remains
again, which consisted now of dry bones alone, and, after perfuming
them and inclosing them again in a new coffin, they deposited them
once more under the pavement of the chapel, and laid a slab, with a
suitable inscription, over the spot to mark the place of the grave.

[Illustration: FINAL BURIAL OF ROSAMOND.]

The house where Rosamond was concealed at Woodstock was regarded
afterward with great interest, and there was a chamber in it that was
for a long time known as Rosamond's Chamber. There remains a letter of
one of the kings of England, written about a hundred years after this
time, in which the king gives directions to have this house repaired,
and particularly to have the chamber restored to a perfect condition.
His orders are, that "the house beyond the gate in the new wall be
built again, and that same chamber, called Rosamond's Chamber, be
restored as before, and crystal plates"--that is, glass for the
windows--"and marble, and lead be provided for it."

From that day to this the story of Rosamond has been regarded as one
of the most interesting incidents of English history.




CHAPTER IV.

ACCESSION OF RICHARD TO THE THRONE.

1189

The reverses of King Henry.--Negotiating a peace.--The
thunder-storm.--Henry's horsemanship.--The hard conditions of
peace imposed by Philip and Richard.--The sick king.--His
distress at the conduct of John.--The palace at Chinon.--The
imprecations of the dying king.--The heartless conduct of the
courtiers of the dead king.--Richard following the funeral train
to the Abbey Fontevraud.--Richard immediately secures the
succession to the throne.--Sorrow often results in
happiness.--Eleanora queen regent.--Her change of
character.--Richard's return to England.--Richard's proposed
crusade.--John's dissimulation.--A delusion.--The treasures of
the crown.--Circumstances alter cases.--Accomplices ill
rewarded.


Richard was called to the throne when he was about thirty-two years of
age by the sudden and unexpected death of his father. The death of his
father took place under the most mournful circumstances imaginable. In
the war which Richard and Philip, king of France, had waged against
him, he had been unsuccessful. He had been defeated in the battles and
outgeneraled in the manoeuvres, and his barons, one after another,
had abandoned him and taken part with the rebels. King Henry was an
extremely passionate man, and the success of his enemies against him
filled him with rage. This rage was rendered all the more violent by
the thought that it was through the unnatural ingratitude of his own
son, Richard, that all these calamities came upon him. In the anguish
of his despair, he cursed the day of his birth, and uttered dreadful
maledictions against his children.

At length he was reduced to such an extremity that he was obliged to
submit to negotiations for peace, on just such terms as his enemies
thought fit to impose. They made very hard conditions. The first
attempt at negotiating the peace was made in an open field, where
Philip and Henry met for the purpose, on horseback, attended by their
retainers. Richard had the grace to keep away from this meeting, so as
not to be an actual witness of the humiliation of his father, and so
Philip and Henry were to conduct the conference by themselves.

The meeting was interrupted by a thunder-storm. At first the two kings
did not intend to pay any heed to the storm, but to go on with their
discussions without regarding it. Henry was a very great horseman, and
spent almost his whole life in riding. One of his historians says that
he never sat down except upon a saddle, unless it was when he was
taking his meals. At any rate, he was almost always on horseback. He
hunted on horseback, he fought on horseback, he traveled on horseback,
and now he was holding a conference with his enemies on horseback, in
the midst of a storm of lightning and rain. But his health had now
become impaired, and his nerves, though they had always seemed to be
of iron, were beginning to give way under the dreadful shocks to which
they had been exposed, so that he was now far less able to endure such
exposures than he had been. At length a clap of thunder broke rattling
immediately over his head, and the bolt seemed to descend directly
between him and Philip as they sat upon their horses in the field.
Henry reeled in the saddle, and would have fallen if his attendants
had not seized and held him. They found that he was too weak and ill
to remain any longer on the spot, and so they bore him away to his
quarters, and then Philip and Richard sent him in writing the
conditions which they were going to exact from him. The conditions
were very humiliating indeed. They stripped him of a great portion of
his possessions, and required him to hold others in subordination to
Philip and to Richard. Finally, the last of the conditions was, that
he was to give Richard the kiss of peace, and to banish from his heart
all sentiments of animosity and anger against him.

Among other articles of the treaty was one binding him to pardon all
the barons and other chief men who had gone over to Richard's side in
the rebellion. As they read the articles over to the king, while he
was lying sick upon his bed, he asked, when they came to this one, to
see the list of the names, that he might know who they were that had
thus forsaken him. The name at the head of the list was that of his
son John--his darling son John, to defend whose rights against the
aggressions of Richard had been one of his chief motives in carrying
on the war. The wretched father, on seeing this name, started up from
his bed and gazed wildly around.

"Is it possible," he cried out, "that John, the child of my heart--he
whom I have cherished more than all the rest, and for love of whom I
have drawn down on mine own head all these troubles, has verily
betrayed me?" They told him that it was even so.

"Then," said he, falling back helplessly on his bed, "then let every
thing go as it will; I care no longer for myself or for any thing else
in this world."

All this took place in Normandy, for it was Normandy that had been the
chief scene of the war between the king and his son. At some little
distance from the place where the king was now lying sick there was a
beautiful rural palace, at a place called Chinon, which was situated
very pleasantly on the banks of a small branch of the Loire. This
palace was one of the principal summer resorts of the dukes of
Normandy, and the king caused himself now to be carried there, in
order to seek repose. But instead of being cheered by the beautiful
scenes that were around him at Chinon, or reinvigorated by the
comforts and the attentions which he could there enjoy, he gradually
sank into hopeless melancholy, and in a few days he began to feel that
he was about to die. As he grew worse his mind became more and more
excited, and his attendants from time to time heard him moaning, in
his anguish, "Oh, shame! shame! I am a conquered king--a conquered
king! Cursed be the day on which I was born, and cursed be the
children that I leave behind me!"

The priests at his bedside endeavored to remonstrate with him against
these imprecations. They told him that it was a dreadful thing for a
father to curse his own children, and they urged him to retract what
he had said. But he declared that he would not. He persisted in
cursing all his children except Geoffrey Clifford, the son of
Rosamond, who was then at his bedside, and who had never forsaken him.
The king grew continually more and more excited and disordered in
mind, until at length he sank into a raving delirium, and in that
state he died.

A dead king is a very helpless and insignificant object, whatever may
have been the terror which he inspired while he was alive. As long as
Henry continued to breathe, the attendants around him paid him great
deference, and observed every possible form of obsequious respect, for
they did not know but that he might recover, to live and reign, and
lord it over them and their fortunes for fifteen or twenty years to
come; but as soon as the breath was out of his body, all was over.
Richard, his son, was now king, and from Henry nothing whatever was
any longer to be hoped or feared. So the mercenary and heartless
courtiers--the ministers, priests, bishops and barons--began at once
to strip the body of all the valuables which the king had worn, and
also to seize and appropriate every thing in the apartments of the
palace which they could take away. These things were their
perquisites, they said; it being customary, as they alleged, that the
personal effects of a deceased king should be divided among those who
were his attendants when he died. Having secured this plunder, these
people disappeared, and it was with the utmost difficulty that
assistance enough could be procured to wrap the body in a
winding-sheet, and to bring a hearse and horses to bear it away to the
abbey where it was to be interred. Examples like this--of which the
history of every monarchy is full--throw a great deal of light upon
what is called the principle of loyalty in the hearts of those who
attend upon kings.

While the procession was on the way to the abbey where the body was to
be buried, it was met by Richard, who, having heard of his father's
death, came to join in the funeral solemnities. Richard followed the
train until they arrived at the abbey. It was the Abbey Fontevraud,
the ancient burial-place of the Norman princes. Arrived at the abbey,
the body was laid out upon the bier, and the face was uncovered, in
order that Richard might once more look upon his father's features;
but the countenance was so distorted with the scowling expression of
rage and resentment which it had worn during the sufferer's last
hours, that Richard turned away in horror from the dreadful spectacle.

But Richard soon drove away from his mind the painful thoughts which
the sight of his father's face must have awakened, and turned his
attention at once to the business which now pressed upon him. He, of
course, was heir both to the crown of England and also to all his
father's possessions in Normandy, and he felt that he must act
promptly, in order to secure his rights. It is true that there was
nobody to dispute his claim, unless it was his brother John, for the
two sons of Rosamond, Geoffrey and William Clifford, did not pretend
to any rights of inheritance. Richard had some fears of John, and he
thought it necessary to take decisive measures to guard against any
plots that John might be disposed to form. He sent at once to England,
and ordered that his mother should be released from her imprisonment,
and invested her with power to act as regent there until he should
come. In the mean time, he himself remained in Normandy, and devoted
himself to arranging and regulating the affairs of his French
possessions. This was the wisest course for him to pursue, for there
was no one in England to dispute his claims to that kingdom. On the
Continent the case was different. His neighbor, Philip, King of
France, was ready to take advantage of any opportunity to get
possession of such provinces on the Continent as might be within his
reach.

It was certainly a good deed in Richard to liberate his mother from
her captivity, and to exalt her as he did to a position of
responsibility and honor. Eleanora fulfilled the trust which he
reposed in her in a very faithful and successful manner. The long
period of confinement and suffering which she had endured seems to
have exerted a very favorable influence upon her mind. Indeed, it is
very often the case that sorrow and trouble have this effect. A life
of prosperity and pleasure makes us heartless, selfish, and unfeeling,
while sorrow softens the heart, and disposes us to compassionate the
woes of others, and to do what we can to relieve them.

Eleanora was queen regent in England for two months, and during that
time she employed her power in a very beneficent manner. She released
many unhappy prisoners, and pardoned many persons who had been
convicted of political crimes. The truth is that probably, as she
found herself drawing toward the close of life, and looked back upon
her past career, and remembered her many crimes, her unfaithfulness to
both her husbands, and especially her unnatural conduct in instigating
her sons to rebel against their father, her heart was filled with
remorse, and she found some relief from her anguish in these tardy
efforts to relieve suffering which might, in some small degree, repair
the evils that she had brought upon the land by the insurrections and
wars of which she had been the cause. She bitterly repented of the
hostility that she had shown toward her husband, and of the countless
wrongs that she had inflicted upon him. While he was alive, and she
was engaged in her contests with him, the excitement that she was
under blinded her mind; but now that he was dead, her passion
subsided, and she mourned for him with bitter grief. She distributed
alms in a very abundant manner to the poor to induce them to pray for
the repose of his soul. While doing these things she did not neglect
the affairs of state. She made all the necessary arrangements for the
immediate administration of the government, and she sent word to all
the barons, and also to the bishops, and other great public
functionaries, informing them that Richard was coming to assume the
government of the realm, and summoning them to assemble and make ready
to receive him. In about two months Richard came.

Before Richard arrived in England, however, he had formed the plan,
in connection with Philip, the King of France, of going on a crusade.
Richard was a wild and desperate man, and he loved fighting for its
own sake; and inasmuch as now, since his father was dead, and his
claim to the crown of England, and to all his possessions in Normandy,
was undisputed, there seemed to be nobody for him to fight at home, he
conceived the design of organizing a grand expedition to go to the
Holy Land and fight the Saracens.

John was very much pleased with this idea. "If Richard goes to
Palestine," said he to himself, "ten to one he will get killed, and
then I shall be King of England."

So John was ready to do every thing in his power to favor the plan of
the crusade. He pretended to be very submissive and obedient to his
brother, and to acknowledge his sovereign power as king. He aided the
king as much as he could in making his arrangements and in concocting
all his plans.

The first thing was to provide funds. A great deal of money was
required for these expeditions. Ships were to be bought and equipped
for the purpose of transporting the troops to the East. Arms and
ammunition were to be provided, and large supplies of food. Then the
princes, and barons, and knights who were to accompany the expedition
required very expensive armor, and costly trappings and equipments of
all sorts; for, though the pretense was that they were going out to
fight for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre under the influence of
religious zeal, the real motive which animated them was love of glory
and display. Thus it happened that the expense which a sovereign
incurred in fitting out a crusade was enormous.

Accordingly, King Richard, immediately on his arrival in England,
proceeded at once to Winchester, where his father, King Henry, had
kept his treasures. Richard found a large sum of money there in gold
and silver coin, and besides this there were stores of plate, of
jewelry, and of precious gems of great value. Richard caused all the
money to be counted in his presence, and an exact inventory to be made
of all the treasures. He then placed the whole under the charge of
trusty officers of his own, whom he appointed to take care of them.

The next thing that Richard did was to discard and dismiss all his own
former friends and adherents--the men who had taken part with him in
his rebellions against his father. "Men that would join me in
rebelling against my father," thought he to himself, "would join any
body else, if they thought they could gain by it, in rebelling against
me." So he concluded that they were not to be trusted. Indeed now, in
the altered circumstances in which he was placed, he could see the
guilt of rebellion and treason, though he had been blind to it before,
and he actually persecuted and punished some of those who had been his
confederates in his former crimes. A great many cases analogous to
this have occurred in English history. Sons have often made themselves
the centre and soul of all the opposition in the realm against their
father's government, and have given their fathers a great deal of
trouble by so doing; but then, in all such cases, the moment that the
father dies the son immediately places himself at the head of the
regularly-constituted authorities of the realm, and abandons all his
old companions and friends, treating them sometimes with great
severity. His eyes are opened to the wickedness of making opposition
to the sovereign power now that the sovereign power is vested in
himself, and he disgraces and punishes his own former friends for the
crime of having aided him in his undutiful behavior.




CHAPTER V.

THE CORONATION.

1189

The massacre of the Jews.--Their social position.--The history
of the commercial character of the Jews.--The persecution
of the Jews in France.--Conciliating the king.--A description
of the ceremony of coronation.--The ampulla.--The
coronation.--Presents.--Hostility and jealousy of the people.--An
altercation.--Hunting out the Jews.--The terrors of the
massacre.--Indifference of the king.--The mob unchecked.--The
impunity of the rioters.--King Richard's edict.


It was now time that the coronation should take place, and
arrangements were accordingly made for performing this ceremony with
great magnificence in Westminster Abbey. The day of the ceremony
acquired a dreadful celebrity in history in consequence of a great
massacre of the Jews, which resulted from an insurrection and riot
that broke out in Westminster and London immediately after the
crowning of the king. The Jews had been hated and abhorred by all the
Christian nations of Europe for many ages. Since they were not
believers in Christianity, they were considered as little better than
infidels and heathen, and the government that oppressed and persecuted
them the most was considered as doing the greatest service to the
cause of religion.

One very curious result followed from the legal disabilities that the
Jews were under. They could not own land, and they were restricted
also very much in respect to nearly all the avocations open to other
men. They consequently learned gradually to become dealers in money
and in jewels, this being almost the only reputable calling that was
left open to them. There was another great advantage, too, for them,
in dealing in property of this kind, and that was, that comprising, as
such property does, great value in small bulk, it could easily be
concealed, and removed from place to place whenever it was specially
endangered by the edicts of governments or the hostility of enemies.

From these and similar reasons the Jews became bankers and
money-lenders, and they are to this day the richest bankers and the
greatest money-lenders in the world. The most powerful emperors and
kings often depend upon them for the supplies that they require to
carry on their great undertakings or to defray the expenses of their
wars.

The Jews had gradually increased in numbers and influence in France
until the time of the accession of Philip, and then he determined to
extirpate them from the realm; so he issued an edict by which they
were all banished from the kingdom, their property was confiscated,
and every person that owed them money was released from all
obligation to pay them. Of course, a great many of their debtors would
pay them, notwithstanding this release, from the influence of that
natural sense of justice which, in all nations and in all ages, has a
very great control in human hearts; still, there were others who
would, of course, avail themselves of this opportunity to defraud
their creditors of what was justly their due; and being obliged, too,
at the same time, to fly precipitately from the country in consequence
of the decree of banishment, the poor Jews were reduced to a state of
extreme distress.

Now the Jews of England, when Henry died and Richard succeeded him,
began to be afraid that the new king would follow Philip's example,
and in order to prevent this, and to conciliate Richard's favor, they
determined to send a delegation to him at Westminster, at the time of
his coronation, with rich presents which had been procured by
contributions made by the wealthy. Accordingly, on the day of the
coronation, when the great crowds of people assembled at Westminster
to honor the occasion, these Jews came among them.

The ceremony of the coronation was performed in the following manner:
The king, in entering the church and proceeding up toward the high
altar, walked upon a rich cloth laid down for him, which had been dyed
with the famous Tyrian purple. Over his head was a beautifully-wrought
canopy of silk, supported by four long lances. These lances were borne
by four great barons of the realm. A great nobleman, the Earl of
Albemarle, bore the crown, and walked with it before the king as he
advanced toward the altar. When the earl reached the altar he placed
the crown upon it. The Archbishop of Canterbury stood before the altar
to receive the king as he approached, and then administered the usual
oath to him.

The oath was in three parts:

     1. That all the days of his life he would bear peace, honor,
     and reverence to God and the Holy Church, and to all the
     ordinances thereof.

     2. That he would exercise right, justice, and law on the
     people unto him committed.

     3. That he would abrogate wicked laws and perverse customs,
     if any such should be brought into his kingdom, and that he
     would enact good laws, and the same in good faith keep,
     without mental reservation.

Having taken this oath, the king removed his upper garment, and put
golden sandals upon his feet, and then was anointed by the archbishop
with the holy oil on his head, breast, and shoulders. This oil was
poured from a rich vessel called an _ampulla_.[C]

[Footnote C: The ampulla used now for anointing the English sovereigns
is in the form of an eagle. It is made of the purest chased gold, and
weighs about ten ounces. It is deposited in the Tower of London.]

The anointing having been performed, the king received various
articles of royal dress and decoration from the hands of the great
nobles around him, who officiated as servitors on the occasion, and
with their assistance put them on. When thus robed and adorned, he
advanced up the steps of the altar. As he went up, the archbishop
adjured him in the name of the living God not to assume the crown
unless he was fully resolved to keep the oaths that he had sworn.
Richard again solemnly called God to witness that he would faithfully
keep them, and then advancing to the altar, he took the crown and put
it into the hands of the archbishop, who then placed it upon his head,
and thus the coronation ceremony was completed.

The people who had presents for the king now approached and offered
them to him. Among them came the Jews. Their presents were very rich
and valuable, and the king received them very gladly, although in
announcing the arrangements for the ceremony he had declared that no
Jew and no woman was to be allowed to be present. Notwithstanding this
prohibition, the Jewish deputation had come in and offered their
presents among the rest. There was, however, a great murmuring among
the crowd in respect to them, and a great desire to drive them out.
This crowd consisted chiefly, of course, of barons, earls, knights,
and other great dignitaries of the realm, for very few of the lower
ranks would be admitted to see the ceremony; and these people, in
addition to the usual religious prejudice against the Jews, had many
of them been exasperated against the bankers and money-lenders on
account of difficulties that they had had with them in relation to
money that they had borrowed, and to the high interest which they had
been compelled to pay. Some wise observer of the working of human
passions has said that men always hate more or less those to whom they
owe money. This is a reason why there should ordinarily be very few
pecuniary transactions between friends.

At length, as one of the Jews who was outside was attempting to go
in, a by-stander at the gate cried out, "Here comes a Jew!" and struck
at him. This excited the passions of the rest, and they struck and
pushed the poor Jew in order to drive him back; and at the same time a
general outcry against the Jews arose, and spread into the interior of
the hall. The people there, glad of the opportunity afforded them by
the excitement, began to assault the Jews and drive them out; and as
they came out at the door beaten and bruised, a rumor was raised that
they had been expelled by the king's orders. This rumor, as it spread
through the streets, was soon changed into a report that the king had
ordered all the unbelievers to be destroyed; and so, whenever a Jew
was found in the street, a riot was raised about him, he was assaulted
with sticks and stones, cruelly beaten, and if he was not killed, he
was driven to seek refuge in his home, wounded and bleeding.

In the mean time, the news that the king had ordered all the Jews to
be killed spread rapidly over the town, and in the evening crowds
collected, and after murdering all the Jews that they could find in
the streets, they gathered round their houses, and finally broke into
them and killed the inhabitants. In some cases where the houses were
strong, the Jews barricaded the doors and the mob could not get in. In
such cases they brought combustibles, and piled them up before the
windows and doors, and then, setting them on fire, they burned the
houses to the ground, and men, women, and children were consumed
together in the flames. If any of the unhappy wretches burning in
these fires attempted to escape by leaping from the windows, the mob
below held up spears and lances for them to fall upon.

There were so many of these fires in the course of the night that the
whole sky was illuminated, and at one time there was danger that the
flames would spread so as to produce a general conflagration. Indeed,
as the night passed on, the excitement became more and more violent,
until at length the streets, in all the quarters where Jews resided,
were filled with the shouts of the mob, raving in demoniacal phrensy,
and with the screams of the terrified and dying sufferers, and the
crackling of the lurid flames in which they were burning.

The king, in the mean time, was carousing with his lords and barons in
the great banqueting-hall at Westminster, and for a time took no
notice of these disturbances. He seemed to consider them as of very
little moment. At length, however, in the course of the night, he sent
an officer and a few men to suppress the riot. But it was too late.
The mob paid no heed to remonstrances which came from the leader of so
small a force, but, on the other hand, threatened to kill the soldiers
too, if they did not go away. So the officer returned to the king, and
the riot went on undisturbed until about two o'clock of the next day,
when it gradually ceased from the mere weariness and exhaustion of the
people.

A few of the men who had been engaged in this riot were afterward
brought to trial, and three were hung, not for murdering Jews, but for
burning some Christian houses, which, either by mistake or accident,
took fire in the confusion and were burned with the rest. This was all
that was ever done to punish this dreadful crime.

In justice to King Richard, however, it must be stated that he issued
an edict after this forbidding that the Jews should be injured or
maltreated any more. He took the whole people, he said, thenceforth
under his special protection, and all men were strictly forbidden to
harm them personally, or to molest them in the possession of their
property.

And this was the terrible coronation scene which signalized the
investiture of Richard with the crown and the royal robes of England.




CHAPTER VI.

PREPARATIONS FOR THE CRUSADE.

1189

Richard was thirty-two years of age at his accession.--His
ardent desires for distinction in crusades.--Motives
of the crusaders.--A strange delusion.--The
preparations.--Navies.--Armies.--Accoutrements.--Customs of
old times.--Richard's reckless course.--Richard sold lands,
offices, and titles of honor.--Extortion under pretense of
public justice.--Creating a regency.--Richard's regents.--John's
acquiescence.--The time for sailing appointed.--Richard crosses
the Channel.--Fears of treachery.--The treaty of alliance between
Richard and Philip.--Completion of the preparations.


At the time of his accession to the throne, Richard, as has already
been remarked, was about thirty-two years of age. On the following
page you have a portrait of him, with the crown upon his head.

This portrait is taken from a sculpture on his tomb, and is
undoubtedly a good representation of him as he appeared when he was
alive.

[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF RICHARD I.]

The first thing that Richard turned his attention to, when he found
himself securely seated on his throne, was the preparation for a
crusade. It had been the height of his ambition for a long time to
lead a crusade. It was undoubtedly through the influence of his
mother, and of her early conversations with him, that he imbibed his
extraordinary eagerness to seek adventures in the Holy Land. She had
been a crusader herself during her first marriage, as has already been
related in this volume, and she had undoubtedly, in Richard's early
life, entertained him with a thousand stories of what she had seen,
and of the romantic adventures which she had met with there. These
stories, and the various conversations which arose out of them,
kindled Richard's youthful imagination with ardent desires to go and
distinguish himself on the same field. These desires had been greatly
increased as Richard grew up to manhood by observing the exalted
military glory to which successful crusaders attained. And then,
besides this, Richard was endued with a sort of reckless and lion-like
courage, which led him to look upon danger as a sport, and made him
long for a field where there were plenty of enemies to fight, and
enemies so abhorred by the whole Christian world that he could indulge
in the excitement of hatred and rage against them without any
restraint whatever. He could there satiate himself, too, with the
luxury of killing men without any misgiving of conscience, or, at
least, without any condemnation on the part of his fellow-men, for it
was understood throughout Christendom that the crimes committed
against the Saracens in the Holy Land were committed in the name of
Christ. What a strange delusion! To think of honoring the memory of
the meek and lowly Jesus by utterly disregarding his peaceful precepts
and his loving and gentle example, and going forth in thousands to the
work of murder, rapine, and devastation, in order to get possession of
his tomb.

       *       *       *       *       *

In preparing for the crusade, the first and most important thing to
be attended to, in Richard's view, was the raising of money. A great
deal of money would be required, as has already been intimated, to fit
out the expedition on the magnificent scale which Richard intended.
There was a fleet of ships to be built and equipped, and stores of
provisions to be put on board. There were armies to be levied and
paid, and immense expenses were to be incurred in the manufacture of
arms and ammunition. The armor and the arms used in those days,
especially those worn by knights and noblemen, and the caparisons of
the horses, were extremely costly. The armor was fashioned with great
labor and skill out of plates or rings of steel, and the helmets, and
the bucklers, and the swords, and all the military trappings of the
horses and horsemen, being fashioned altogether by hand, required
great labor and skill in the artisan who made them; and then,
moreover, it was customary to decorate them very profusely with
embroidery, and gold, and gems. At the present day, men display their
wealth in the costliness of their houses, and the gorgeousness and
luxury of the furniture which they contain. It is not considered in
good taste--except for ladies--to make a display of wealth upon the
person. In those days, however, the reverse was the case. The knights
and barons lived in the rudest stone castles, dark and frowning
without, and meagerly furnished and comfortless within, while all the
means of display which the owners possessed were lavished in arming
and decorating themselves and their horses magnificently for the field
of battle.

For all these things Richard knew that he should require a large sum
of money, and he proceeded at once to carry into effect the most
wasteful and reckless measures for obtaining it. His father, Henry the
Second, had in various ways acquired a great many estates in different
parts of the kingdom, which estates he had added to the royal domains.
These Richard at once proceeded to sell to whomsoever would give the
most for them. In this manner he disposed of a great number of
castles, fortresses, and towns, so as greatly to diminish the value of
the crown property. The purchasers of this property, if they had not
money enough of their own to pay for what they bought, would borrow of
the Jews. Some of the king's counselors remonstrated with him against
this wasteful policy, but he replied that he needed money so much for
the crusade, that, if necessary, he would sell the city of London
itself to raise it, if he could only find a man rich enough to be the
purchaser.

After having raised as much money as he could by the sale of the royal
lands, the next resource to which Richard turned was the sale of
public offices and titles of honor. He looked about the country for
wealthy men, and he offered them severally high office on condition of
their paying large sums of money into the treasury as a consideration
for them. He sold titles of nobility, too, in the same way. If any man
who was not rich held a high or important office, he would find some
pretext for removing him, and then would offer the office for sale.
One of the historians of those times says that at this period
Richard's presence-chamber became a regular place of trade--like the
counting-room of a merchant or an exchange--where every thing that
could be derived from the bounty of the crown or bestowed by the royal
prerogative was offered for sale in open market to the man who would
give the best bargain for it.

Another of the modes which the king adopted for raising money, and in
some respects the worst of all, was to impose fines as a punishment
for crime, and then, in order to make the fines produce as much as
possible, every imaginable pretext was resorted to to charge wealthy
persons with offenses, with a view of exacting large sums from them as
the penalty. It was said that a great officer of state was charged
with some offense, and was put in prison and not released until he had
paid a fine of three thousand pounds.

One of the worst of these cases was that of his half-brother Geoffrey,
the son of Rosamond. Geoffrey had been appointed Archbishop of York in
accordance with the wish that his father Henry had expressed on his
death-bed. Richard pretended to be displeased with this. Perhaps he
wished to have had that office to dispose of like the rest. At any
rate, he exacted a very large sum from Geoffrey as the condition on
which he would "grant him his peace," as he termed it, and Geoffrey
paid the money.

When, by these and other similar means, Richard had raised all that he
could in England, he prepared to cross the Channel into Normandy, in
order to see what more he could do there. Before he went, however, he
had first to make arrangements for a regency to govern England while
he should be away. This is always the custom in monarchical countries.
Whenever, for any reason, the true sovereign can not personally
exercise the supreme power, whether from minority, insanity,
long-continued sickness, or protracted absence from the realm, a
regency, as it is called, is created to govern the kingdom in his
stead. The person appointed to act as regent is usually some near
relation of the king. Richard's brother John hoped to be made regent,
but this did not suit Richard's views, for he wished to make this
office the means, as all the others had been, of raising money, and
John had no money to give. For the same reason, he could not appoint
his mother, who in other respects would have been a very suitable
person. So Richard contrived a sort of middle course. He sold the
nominal regency to two wealthy courtiers, whom he associated together
for the purpose. One was a bishop, and the other was an earl. It may,
perhaps, be too much to say that he directly sold them the office,
but, at any rate, he appointed them jointly to it, and under the
arrangement that was made he received a large sum of money. He,
however, stipulated that John, and also his mother, should have a
large share of influence in deciding upon all the measures of the
government. John would have been by no means satisfied with this
divided and uncertain share of power were it not that he was so
desirous of favoring the expedition in every possible way, in hopes
that if Richard could once get to the Holy Land he would soon perish
there, and that then he should be king altogether. It was of
comparatively little consequence who was regent in the mean time. So
he resolved to make no objection to any plan that the king might
propose.

Richard was now ready to cross to Normandy; but just before he went
there came a deputation from Philip to consult with him in respect to
the plans of the crusade, and to fix upon the time for setting out.
The time proposed by Philip was the latter part of March. It was now
late in the fall. It would not be safe to set out before March on
account of the inclemency of the season, and Richard supposed that he
should have ample time to complete his preparations by the time that
Philip named. So both parties agreed to it, and they took a solemn
oath on both sides that they would all be ready without fail.

Soon after this Richard took leave of his friends, and, accompanied
by a long retinue of earls, barons, knights, and other adventurers who
were to accompany him to the Holy Land, he left England, and crossed
the Channel to Normandy.

In such cases as this there are always a great many last words to be
said and a great many last arrangements to be made, and Richard found
it necessary to see his mother and his brother John again before
finally taking his departure from Europe. So he sent for them to come
to Normandy, and there another great council of state was held, at
which every thing in relation to the internal affairs of his dominions
was finally arranged. There was still one other danger to be guarded
against, and that was some treachery on the part of Philip himself. So
little reliance did these valiant champions of Christianity place in
each other in those days, that both Richard and Philip, in joining
together to form this expedition, had many misgivings and suspicions
in respect to each other's honesty. Undoubtedly neither of them would
have thought it safe to leave his dominions and go on a crusade unless
the other had been going too. The one left behind would have been sure
to have found some pretext, during the absence of his neighbor, to
invade his dominions and plunder him of some of his possessions. This
was one reason why the two kings had agreed to go together; and now,
as an additional safeguard, they made a formal treaty of alliance and
fraternity, in which they bound themselves by the most solemn oaths to
stand by each other, and to be faithful and true to each other to the
last. They agreed that each would defend the life and honor of the
other on all occasions; that neither would desert the other in the
hour of danger; and that, in respect to the dominions that they were
respectively to leave behind them, neither would form any designs
against the other, but that Philip would cherish and protect the
rights of Richard even as he would protect his own city of Paris, and
that Richard would do the like by Philip, even as he would protect his
own city of Rouen.

It is a curious circumstance that in this treaty Richard should name
Rouen, and not London, as his principal capital. It confirms what is
known in many other ways, that the kings of this line, reigning over
both Normandy and England, considered Normandy as the chief centre of
their power, and England as subordinate. It may be, however, that one
reason why Rouen was named in this instance may have been because it
was nearer to the dominions of the King of France, and so better known
to him.

This treaty was signed in February, and the preparations were now
nearly complete for setting forth on the expedition in March, at the
appointed time.




CHAPTER VII.

THE EMBARKATION.

1190

The plan of embarking the troops.--The English fleet.--The
French forces.--Richard's rules.--The origin of tarring and
feathering.--Command of the fleet.--The fleet dispersed
by a storm.--A delay in Lisbon.--The rendezvous at
Vezelai.--Devastation by the armies.--Richard goes to
the East in advance of his fleet.--The rendezvous at
Messina.--Joanna.--Richard's visit.--King Richard's
excursions.--Ostia.--A quarrel.--Why Richard quarreled with
the bishop.--Naples and Vesuvius.--The crypt.--Salerno.--Richard's
visit there.--The fleet.--Richard pursuing his journey along
the coast of the Mediterranean.--Richard's tyrannical
disposition.--Stealing the falcon.--Richard flees to a priory
to escape the peasants.


The plan which Richard had formed for conveying his expedition to the
Holy Land was to embark it on board a fleet of ships which he was
sending round to Marseilles for this purpose, with orders to await him
there. Marseilles is in the south of France, not far from the
Mediterranean Sea. Richard might have embarked his troops in the
English Channel; but that, as the reader will see from looking on the
map of Europe, would require them to take a long sea voyage around the
coasts of France and Spain, and through the Straits of Gibraltar.
Richard thought it best to avoid this long circuit for his troops, and
so he sent the ships round, with no more men on board than necessary
to manoeuvre them, while he marched his army across France by land.

As for Philip, he had no ships of his own. England was a maritime
country, and had long possessed a fleet. This fleet had been very much
increased by the exertions of Henry the Second, Richard's father, who
had built several new ships, some of them of very large size,
expressly for the purpose of transporting troops to Palestine. Henry
himself did not live to execute his plans, and so he left his ships
for Richard.

France, on the other hand, was not then a maritime country. Most of
the harbors on the northern coast belonged to Normandy, and even at
the south the ports did not belong to the King of France. Philip,
therefore, had no fleet of his own, but he had made arrangements with
the republic of Genoa to furnish him with ships, and so his plan was
to march over the mountains to that city and embark there, while
Richard should go south to Marseilles.

Richard drew up a curious set of rules and regulations for the
government of this fleet while it was making the passage. Some of the
rules were the following:

     1. That if any man killed another, the murderer was to be
     lashed to the dead body and buried alive with it, if the
     murder was committed in port or on the land. If the crime
     was committed at sea, then the two bodies, bound together as
     before, were to be launched overboard.

     2. If any man, with a knife or with any other weapon, struck
     another so as to draw blood, then he was to be punished by
     being ducked three times over head and ears by being let
     down from the yard-arm of the ship into the sea.

     3. For all sorts of profane and abusive language, the
     punishment was a fine of an ounce of silver for each
     offense.

     4. Any man convicted of theft, or "pickerie" as it was
     called, was to have his head shaved and hot pitch poured
     over it, and upon that the feathers of some pillow or
     cushion were to be shaken. The offender was then to be
     turned ashore on the first land that the ship might reach,
     and there be abandoned to his fate.

The penalty named in this last article is the first instance in which
any account of the punishment of tarring and feathering is mentioned,
and this is supposed to be the origin of that extraordinary and very
cruel mode of punishment.

The king put the fleet under the command of three grand officers of
his court, and he commanded all his seamen and marines to obey them
strictly in all things, as they would obey the king himself if he had
been on board.

The fleet met with a great variety of adventures on its way to
Marseilles. It had not proceeded far before a great tempest arose,
and scattered the ships in every direction. At last, a considerable
number of them succeeded in making their way, in a disabled condition,
into the Tagus, in order to seek succor in Lisbon. The King of
Portugal was at this time at war with the Moors, who had come over
from Africa and invaded his dominions. He proposed to the Crusaders on
board the ships to wait a little while, and assist him in fighting the
Moors. "They are as great infidels," said he, "as any that you will
find in the Holy Land." The commanders of the fleet acceded to this
proposal, but the crews, when they were landed, soon made so many
riots in Lisbon, and involved themselves in such frequent and bloody
affrays with the people of the city, that the King of Portugal was
soon eager to send them away; so, in due time, they embarked again, in
order to continue their voyage.

In the mean time, while the fleet was thus going round by sea, Richard
and Philip were engaged in assembling their forces and making
preparation to march by land. The two armies, when finally organized,
came together at a place of rendezvous called Vezelai, where there
were great plains suitable for the camping-ground of a great military
force. Vezelai was on the road to Lyons, and the armies, after they
had met, marched in company to the latter city. The number of troops
assembled was very great. The united army amounted, it is said, to one
hundred thousand men. This was a very large force for those days. The
great difficulty was to find provision for them from day to day during
the march. Supplies of provisions for such a host can not be carried
far, so that armies are obliged to live on the produce of the country
that they march through, which is collected for this purpose by
foragers from day to day. The allied armies, as they moved slowly on,
impoverished and distressed the whole country through which they
passed, by devouring every thing that the people had in store. At
length, after marching together for some time, they came to the place
where the roads separated, and King Philip turned off to the left in
order to proceed through the passes of the Alps toward Genoa, while
Richard and his hosts proceeded southward toward Marseilles.

When he reached Marseilles, Richard found that his fleet had not
arrived. The delay was occasioned by the storm, and the subsequent
detention of the crews at Lisbon. And yet this was very long after
the time originally appointed for the sailing of the expedition. The
time first appointed was the last of March; but Philip could not go at
that time, on account of the death of his queen, which took place just
before the appointed period. Nor was Richard himself ready. It was not
until the thirtieth of August that the fleet arrived at Marseilles.

When Richard found that the fleet had not come he was greatly
disappointed. He had no means of knowing when to expect it, for there
were no postal or other communications across the country in those
days, as now, by which tidings could be conveyed to him. He waited
eight days very impatiently, and then concluded to go on himself
toward the East, and leave orders for the fleet to follow him. So he
hired ten large vessels and twenty galleys of the merchants of
Marseilles, and in these he embarked a portion of his forces, leaving
the rest to come in the great fleet when it should arrive. They were
to proceed to Messina in Sicily, where Richard was to join them. With
the vessels that he had hired he proceeded along the coast to Genoa,
where he found Philip, the French king, who had arrived there safely
before him by land.

From Marseilles to Genoa the course lies toward the northeast along
the coast of France. Thence, in going toward Messina, it turns toward
the southeast, and follows the coast of Italy. The route may be traced
very easily on any map of modern Europe. The reason why Messina had
been appointed as the great intermediate rendezvous of the fleet was
two-fold. In the first place, it was a convenient port for this
purpose, being a good harbor, and being favorably situated about
midway of the voyage. Then, besides, Richard had a sister residing
there. Her name was Joanna. She had married the king of the country.
Her husband had died, it is true, and she was, at that time in some
sense retired from public life. She was, indeed, in some distress, for
the throne had been seized by a certain Tancred, who was her enemy,
and, as she maintained, not the rightful successor of her husband. So
Richard resolved, in stopping at Messina, to inquire into and redress
his sister's wrongs; or, rather, he thought the occasion offered him a
favorable opportunity to interfere in the affairs of Sicily, and to
lord it over the government and people there in his usual arrogant and
domineering manner.

After waiting a short time at Genoa, Richard set sail again in one of
his small vessels, and proceeded to the southward along the coast of
Italy. He touched at several places on the coast, in order to visit
celebrated cities or other places of interest. He sailed up the River
Arno, which you will find, on the map, flowing into the Gulf of Genoa
a little to the northward of Leghorn. There are two renowned cities on
this river, which are very much visited by tourists and travelers of
the present day, Florence and Pisa. Pisa is near the mouth of the
river. Florence is much farther inland. Richard sailed up as far as
Pisa. After visiting that city, he returned again to the mouth of the
river, and then proceeded on his way down the coast until he came to
the Tiber, and entered that river. He landed at Ostia, a small port
near the mouth of it--the port, in fact, of Rome. One reason why he
landed at Ostia was that the galley in which he was making the voyage
required some repairs, and this was a convenient place for making
them.

Perhaps, too, it was his intention to visit Rome; but while at Ostia
he became involved in a quarrel with the bishop that resided there,
which led him at length to leave Ostia abruptly, and to refuse to go
to Rome. The cause of the quarrel was the bishop's asking him to pay
some money that he owed the Pope. In all the Catholic countries of
Europe, in those days, there were certain taxes and fees that were
collected for the Pope, the income from which was of great importance
in making up the papal revenues. Now Richard, in his eagerness to
secure all the money he could obtain in England to supply his wants
for the crusade, had appropriated to his own use certain of these
church funds, and the bishop now called upon him to reimburse them.
This application, as might have been expected, made Richard extremely
angry. He assailed the bishop with the most violent and abusive
language, and charged all sorts of corruption and wickedness against
the papal government itself. These charges may have been true, but the
occasion of being called upon to pay a debt was not the proper time
for making them. To make the faults or misconduct of others, whether
real or pretended, an excuse for not rendering them their just dues,
is a very base proceeding.

As soon as Richard's galley was repaired, he embarked on board of it
in a rage, and sailed away. The next point at which he landed was
Naples.

Richard was greatly delighted with the city of Naples, which, rising
as it does from the shores of an enchanting bay, and near the base of
the volcano Vesuvius, has long been celebrated for the romantic beauty
of its situation. Richard remained at Naples several days. There is an
account of his going, while there, to perform his devotions in the
crypt of a church. The crypt is a subterranean apartment beneath the
church, the floors above it, as well as the pillars and walls of the
church, being supported by immense piers and arches, which give the
crypt the appearance of a dungeon. The place is commonly used for
tombs and places of sepulture for the dead. In the crypt where Richard
worshiped at Naples, the dead bodies were arranged in niches all
around the walls. They were dressed as they had been when alive, and
their countenances, dry and shriveled, were exposed to view,
presenting a ghastly and horrid spectacle. It was such means as these
that were resorted to, in the Middle Ages, for making religious
impressions on the minds of men.

After spending some days in Naples, Richard concluded that he would
continue his route; but, instead of embarking at once on board his
galley, he determined to go across the mountains by land to Salerno,
which town lies on the sea-coast at some distance south of Naples. By
looking at any map of Italy, you will observe that a great promontory
puts out into the sea just below Naples, forming the Gulf of Salerno
on the south side of it. The pass through the mountains which Richard
followed led across the neck of this promontory. His galley, together
with the other galleys that accompanied him, he sent round by water.
There was a great deal to interest him at Salerno, for it was a place
where many parties of crusaders, Normans among the rest, had landed
before, and they had built churches and monasteries, and founded
institutions of learning there, all of which Richard was much
interested in visiting.

He accordingly remained in Salerno several days, until at length his
fleet of galleys, which had come round from Naples by sea, arrived.
Richard, however, in the mean time, had found traveling by land so
agreeable, that he concluded to continue his journey in that way,
leaving his fleet to sail down the coast, keeping all the time as near
as possible to the shore. The king himself rode on upon the land,
accompanied by a very small troop of attendants. His way led him
sometimes among the mountains of the interior, and sometimes near the
margin of the shore. At some points, where the road approached so near
to the cliffs as to afford a good view of the sea, the fleet of
galleys were to be seen in the offing prosperously pursuing their
voyage.

[Illustration: RICHARD PURSUING HIS JOURNEY.]

The king went on in this way till he reached Calabria, which is the
country situated in the southern portion of Italy. The roads here were
very bad, and as the autumn was now coming on, many of the streams
became so swollen with rains that it was difficult sometimes for him
to proceed on his way. At one time, while he was thus journeying, he
became involved in a difficulty with a party of peasants which was
extremely discreditable to him, and exhibits his character in a very
unfavorable light. It seems that he was traveling by an obscure
country road, in company with only a single attendant, when he
happened to pass by a village, where he was told a peasant lived who
had a very fine hunting hawk or falcon. Hunting by means of these
hawks was a common amusement of the knights and nobles of those days;
and Richard, when he heard about this hawk, said that a plain
countryman had no business with such a bird. He declared that he
would go to his house and take it away from him. This act, so
characteristic of the despotic arrogance which marked Richard's
character, shows that the reckless ferocity for which he was so
renowned was not softened or alleviated by any true and genuine
nobleness or generosity. For a rich and powerful king thus to rob a
poor, helpless peasant, and on such a pretext too, was as base a deed
as we can well conceive a royal personage to perform.

Richard at once proceeded to carry his design into execution. He went
into the peasant's house, and having, under some pretext or other, got
possession of the falcon, he began to ride away with the bird on his
wrist. The peasant called out to him to give him back his bird.
Richard paid no attention to him, but rode on. The peasant then called
for help, and other villagers joining him, they followed the king,
each one having seized in the mean time such weapons as came most
readily to hand. They surrounded the king in order to take the falcon
away, while he attempted to beat them off with his sword. Pretty soon
he broke his sword by a blow which he struck at one of the peasants,
and then he was in a great measure defenseless. His only safety now
was in flight. He contrived to force his way through the circle that
surrounded him, and began to gallop away, followed by his attendant.
At length he succeeded in reaching a priory, where he was received and
protected from farther danger, having, in the mean time, given up the
falcon. When the excitement had subsided he resumed his journey, and
at length, without any farther adventures, reached the coast at the
point nearest to Sicily. Here he passed the night in a tent, which he
pitched upon the rocks on the shore, waiting for arrangements to be
made on the next day for his public entrance into the harbor of
Messina, which lay just opposite to him, across the narrow strait that
here separates the island of Sicily from the main land.




CHAPTER VIII.

KING RICHARD AT MESSINA.

1190

The triumphal entry into Messina.--The jealousy of the
Sicilians and the envy of the French.--The winter sets in
upon Richard and Philip in Sicily.--Winter quarters.--Tancred.--His
history.--William of Sicily.--Constance.--Oath of
allegiance.--Joanna's estates in the promontory of Mont
Gargano.--Tancred seizing the power.--A good
pretext for war.--Richard's demand.--Tancred's
response.--Reprisals.--Fortifying a monastery.--Soldiers'
troubles.--The army provokes a riot in Messina.--The intense
excitement.--The conference broken up.--Richard's uncontrollable
passion.--The attack on Messina.--Contest between Philip and
Richard.--A reconciliation.--Fortifying.--Richard brings
Tancred to terms.--What Richard required of Tancred.--The
final conditions of peace.--King Richard's league with
ancred.--The treaty signed.--Royal trustees are not
always faithful.--Extravagance of Richard's court.--Spring
approaching.--Repairing the fleet.--Battering-rams.--Modern
ordnance.--The methods of war in ancient
times.--Catapultas.--Ballistas.--Maginalls.--The religious
observances of tyrants.--Richard's penitence and penance.--Was
he sincere?


Although Richard came down to the Italian shore, opposite to Messina,
almost unattended and alone, and under circumstances so
ignoble--fugitive as he was from a party of peasants whom he had
incensed by an act of petty robbery--he yet made his entry at last
into the town itself with a great display of pomp and parade. He
remained on the Italian side of the strait, after he arrived on the
shore, until he had sent over to Messina, and informed the officers of
his fleet, which, by the way, had already arrived there, that he had
come. The whole fleet immediately got ready, and came over to the
Italian side to take Richard on board and escort him over. Richard
entered the harbor with his fleet as if he were a conqueror returning
home. The ships and galleys were all fully manned and gayly decorated,
and Richard arranged such a number of musicians on the decks of them
to blow trumpets and horns as the fleet sailed along the shores and
entered the harbor that the air was filled with the echoes of them,
and the whole country was called out by the sound. The Sicilians were
quite alarmed to see so formidable a host of foreign soldiers coming
among them; and even their allies, the French, were not pleased.
Philip began to be jealous of Richard's superior power, and to be
alarmed at his assuming and arrogant demeanor. Philip had arrived in
Messina some time before this, but his fleet, which was originally an
inferior one, having consisted of such vessels only as he could hire
at Genoa, had been greatly injured by storms during the passage, so
that he had reached Messina in a very crippled condition. And now to
see Richard coming in apparently so much his superior, and with so
evident a disposition to make a parade of his superiority, made him
anxious and uneasy.

The same feeling manifested itself, too, among his troops, and this to
such a degree as to threaten to break out into open quarrels between
the soldiers of the two armies.

"It will never answer," thought Philip, "for us both to remain long at
Messina; so I will set out again myself as soon as I possibly can."

Indeed, there was another very decisive reason for Philip's soon
continuing his voyage, and that was the necessity of diminishing the
number of soldiers now at Messina on account of the difficulty of
finding sustenance for them all. Philip accordingly made all haste to
refit his fleet and to sail away; but he was again unfortunate. He
encountered another storm, and was obliged to put back again, and
before he could be ready a second time the winter set in, and he was
obliged to give up all hope of leaving Sicily until the spring.

The two kings had foreseen this difficulty, and had earnestly
endeavored to avoid it by making all their arrangements in the first
instance for setting out from England and France in March, which was
the earliest possible season for navigating the Mediterranean safely
with such vessels as they had in those days. But this plan the reader
will recollect had been frustrated by the death of Philip's queen, and
the delays attendant upon that event, as well as other delays arising
from other causes, and it was past midsummer before the expedition was
ready to take its departure. The kings had still hoped to have reached
the Holy Land before winter, but now they found themselves stopped on
the way, and Philip, with many misgivings in respect to the result,
prepared to make the best arrangements that he could for putting his
men into winter quarters.

Richard did in the end become involved in difficulties with Philip and
with the French troops, but the most serious affair which occupied his
attention was a very extraordinary quarrel which he instigated between
himself and the king of the country. The name of this king was
Tancred.

The kingdom of Sicily in those days included not merely the island of
Sicily, but also nearly all the southern part of Italy--all that part,
namely, which forms the foot and ankle of Italy, as seen upon the map.
It has already been said that Richard's sister Joanna some years ago
married the king of this country. The name of the king whom Joanna
married was William, and he was now dead. Tancred was his successor,
though not the regular and rightful heir. In order that the reader may
understand the nature of the quarrel which broke out between Tancred
and Richard, it is necessary to explain how it happened that Tancred
succeeded to the throne.

If William, Joanna's husband, had had a son, he would have been the
rightful successor; but William had no children, and some time before
his death he gave up all expectation of ever having any, so he began
to look around and consider who should be his heir.

He fixed his mind upon a lady, the Princess Constance, who was his
cousin and his nearest relative. She would have been the heir had it
not been that the usages of the realm did not allow a woman to reign.
There was another relative of William, a young man named Tancred. For
some reasons, William was very unwilling that Tancred should succeed
him. He knew, however, that the people would be extremely averse to
receive Constance as their sovereign instead of Tancred, on account of
her being a woman; but he thought that he might obviate this objection
in some degree by arranging a marriage for her with some powerful
prince. This he finally succeeded in doing. The prince whom he chose
was a son of the Emperor of Germany. His name was Henry. Constance was
married to him, and after her marriage she left Sicily and went home
with her husband. William then assembled all his barons, and made them
take an oath of allegiance to Constance and Henry, as rightful
sovereigns after his decease. Supposing every thing to be thus
amicably arranged, he settled himself quietly in his capital, the city
of Palermo, intending to live there in peace with his wife for the
remainder of his days.

When he married Joanna, he had given her, for her dower, a large
territory of rich estates in Italy. These estates were all together,
and comprised what is called the promontory of Mont Gargano. You will
see this promontory represented on any map of Italy by a small
projection on the heel, or, rather, a little way above the heel of the
foot, on the eastern side of the peninsula. It is nearly opposite to
Naples. This territory was large, and contained, besides a number of
valuable landed estates, several castles, with lakes and forests
adjoining; also two monasteries, with their pastures, woods, and
vineyards, and several beautiful lakes. These estates, and all the
income from them, were secured to Joanna forever.

Not very long after William had completed his arrangements for the
succession, he died unexpectedly, while Constance was away from the
kingdom, at home with her husband. Immediately a great number of
competitors started up and claimed the crown. Among them was Tancred.
Tancred took the field, and, after a desperate contest with his
rivals, at length carried the day. He considered Joanna, the queen
dowager, as his enemy, and either confiscated her estates or allowed
others to seize them. He then took her with him to Palermo, where, as
Richard was led to believe, he kept her a prisoner. All these things
happened a few months only before Richard arrived in Messina.

Palermo, as you will see from any map of Sicily, lies near the
northwest corner of Sicily, and Messina near the northeast. In
consequence of these occurrences, it happened that when Richard landed
in Sicily he found his sister, the wife of the former king of the
country, a widow and a prisoner, and her estates confiscated, while a
person whom he considered a usurper was on the throne. A better state
of things to furnish him with a pretext for aggressions on the country
or the people he could not possibly have desired.

As soon as he had landed his troops, he formed a great encampment for
them on the sea-shore, outside the town. The place of the encampment
was bordered at one extremity by the suburbs of the town, and at the
other extremity was a monastery built on a height. As soon as Richard
had established himself here, he sent a delegation to Tancred at
Palermo, demanding that he should release Joanna and send her to him.
Tancred denied that Joanna had been imprisoned at all, and, at any
rate, he immediately acceded to her brother's demand that she should
be sent to him. He placed her on board one of his own royal galleys,
and caused her to be conveyed in it, with a very honorable escort, to
Messina, and there delivered up to Richard's care.

In respect to the dower which Richard had demanded that he should
restore, Tancred commenced giving some explanations in regard to it,
but Richard was too impatient to listen to them. "We will not wait,"
said he to his sister, "to hear any talking on the subject; we will go
and take possession of the territory ourselves."

So he embarked a part of his army on board some ships and transported
them across the Straits, and, landing on the Italian shore, he seized
a castle and a portion of territory surrounding it. He put a strong
garrison in the castle, and gave the command of it to Joanna, while he
went back to Messina to strengthen the position of the remainder of
his army there. He thought that the monastery which flanked his
encampment on the side farthest from the town would make a good
fortress if he had possession of it, and that, if well fortified, it
would strengthen very much the defenses of his encampment in case
Tancred should attempt to molest him. So he at once took possession of
it. He turned the monks out of doors, removed all the sacred
implements and emblems, and turned the buildings into a fortress. He
put in a garrison of soldiers to guard it, and filled the rooms which
the monks had been accustomed to use for their studies and their
prayers with stores of arms and ammunition brought in from the ships,
and with other apparatus of war. His object was to be ready to meet
Tancred, at a moment's warning, if he should attempt to attack him.

Soon after this a very serious difficulty broke out between the
soldiers of the army and the people of Messina. There is almost always
difficulty between the soldiers of an army and the people of any town
near which the army is encamped. The soldiers, brutal in their
passions, and standing in awe of none but their own officers, are
often exceedingly violent and unjust in their demeanor toward unarmed
and helpless citizens, and the citizens, though they usually endure
very long and very patiently, sometimes become aroused to resentment
and retaliation at last. In this case, parties of Richard's soldiers
went into Messina, and behaved so outrageously toward the inhabitants,
and especially toward the young women, that the indignation of the
husbands and fathers was excited to the highest degree. The soldiers
were attacked in the streets. Several of them were killed. The rest
fled, and were pursued by the crowd of citizens to the gates. Those
that escaped went to the camp, breathless with excitement and burning
with rage, and called upon all their fellow-soldiers to join them and
revenge their wrongs. A great riot was created, and bands of furious
men, hastily collected together, advanced toward the city, brandishing
their arms and uttering furious cries, determined to break through the
gates and kill every body that they could find. Richard heard of the
danger just in time to mount his horse and ride to the gates of the
city, and there to head off the soldiers and drive them back; but they
were so furious that, for a time, they would not hear him, but still
pressed on. He was obliged to ride in among them, and actually beat
them back with his truncheon, before he could compel them to give up
their design.

The next day a meeting of the chief officers in the two armies, with
the chief magistrates and some of the principal citizens of Messina,
was held, to consider what to do to settle this dispute, and to
prevent future outbreaks of this character. But the state of
excitement between the two parties was too great to be settled yet in
any amicable manner. While the conference was proceeding, a great
crowd of people from the town collected on a rising ground just above
the place where the conference was sitting. They said they only came
as spectators. Richard alleged, on the other hand, that they were
preparing to attack the conference. At any rate, they were excited and
angry, and assumed a very threatening attitude. Some Normans who
approached them got into an altercation with them, and at length one
of the Normans was killed, and the rest cried out, "To arms!" The
conference broke up in confusion. Richard rushed to the camp and
called out his men. He was in a state of fury. Philip did all in his
power to allay the storm and to prevent a combat, and when he found
that Richard would not listen to him, he declared that he had a great
mind to join with the Sicilians and fight him. This, however, he did
not do, but contented himself with doing all he could to calm the
excitement of his angry ally. But Richard was not to be controlled. He
rushed on, at the head of his troops, up the hill to the ground where
the Sicilians were assembled. He attacked them furiously. They were,
to some extent, armed, but they were not organized, and, of course,
they could not stand against the charge of the soldiers. They fled in
confusion toward the city. Richard and his troops followed them,
killing as many of them as they could in the pursuit. The Sicilians
crowded into the city and shut the gates. Of course, the whole town
was now alarmed, and all the people that could fight were marshaled on
the walls and at the gates to defend themselves.

Richard retired for a brief period till he could bring on a larger
force, and then made a grand attack on the walls. Several of his
officers and soldiers were killed by darts and arrows from the
battlements, but at length the walls were taken by storm, the gates
were opened, and Richard marched in at the head of his troops. When
the people were entirely subdued, Richard hung out his flag on a high
tower in token that he had taken full and formal possession of
Tancred's capital.

Philip remonstrated against this very strongly, but Richard declared
that, now that he had got possession of Messina, he would keep
possession until Tancred came to terms with him in respect to his
sister Joanna. Philip insisted that he should not do this, but
threatened to break off the alliance unless Richard would give up the
town. Finally the matter was compromised by Richard agreeing that he
would take down the flag and withdraw from the town himself, and for
the present put it under the government of certain knights that he and
Philip should jointly appoint for this purpose.

After the excitement of this affair had a little subsided, Richard and
Philip began to consider how unwise it was for them to quarrel with
each other, engaged as they were together in an enterprise of such
magnitude and of so much hazard, and one in which it was impossible
for them to hope to succeed, unless they continued united, and so they
became reconciled, or, at least, pretended to be so, and made new vows
of eternal friendship and brotherhood.

Still, notwithstanding these protestations, Richard went on lording it
over the Sicilians in the most high-handed manner. Some nobles of
high rank were so indignant at these proceedings that they left the
town. Richard immediately confiscated their estates and converted the
proceeds to his own use. He proceeded to fortify his encampment more
and more. The monastery which he had forcibly taken from the monks he
turned into a complete castle. He made battlements on the walls, and
surrounded the whole with a moat. He also built another castle on the
hills commanding the town. He acted, in a word, in all respects as if
he considered himself master of the country. He did not consult Philip
at all in respect to any of these proceedings, and he paid no
attention to the remonstrances that Philip from time to time addressed
to him. Philip was exceedingly angry, but he did not see what he could
do.

Tancred, too, began to be very much alarmed. He wished to know of
Richard what it was that he demanded in respect to Joanna. Richard
said he would consider and let him know. In a short time he made known
his terms as follows. He said that Tancred must restore to his sister
all the territories which, as he alleged, had belonged to her, and
also give her "a golden chair, a golden table twelve feet long and a
foot and a half broad, two golden supports for the same, four silver
cups, and four silver dishes." He pretended that, by a custom of the
realm, she was entitled to these things. He also demanded for himself
a very large contribution toward the armament and equipment for the
crusade. It seems that at one period during the lifetime of William,
Joanna's husband, her father, King Henry of England, was planning a
crusade, and that William, by a will which he made at that time--so at
least Richard maintained--had bequeathed a large contribution toward
the necessary means for fitting it out. The items were these:

     1. Sixty thousand measures of wheat.

     2. The same quantity of barley.

     3. A fleet of a thousand armed galleys, equipped and
     provisioned for two years.

     4. A silken tent large enough to accommodate two hundred
     knights sitting at a banquet.

These particulars show on how great a scale these military expeditions
for conquering the Holy Land were conducted in those days, the above
list being only a complimentary contribution to one of them by a
friend of the leader of it.

Richard now maintained that, though his father Henry had died without
going on the crusade, still he himself was going, and that he, being
the son, and consequently the representative and heir of Henry, was,
as such, entitled to receive the bequest; so he called upon Tancred to
pay it.

After much negotiation, the dispute was settled by Richard's waiving
these claims, and arranging the matter on a new and different basis.
He had a nephew named Arthur. Arthur was yet very young, being only
about two years old; and as Richard had no children of his own, Arthur
was his presumptive heir. Tancred had a daughter, yet an infant. Now
it was finally proposed that Arthur and this young daughter of Tancred
should be affianced, and that Tancred should pay to Richard twenty
thousand pieces of gold as her dowry! Richard was, of course, to take
this money as the guardian and trustee of his nephew, and he was to
engage that, if any thing should occur hereafter to prevent the
marriage from taking place, he would refund the money. Tancred was
also to pay Richard twenty thousand pieces of gold besides, in full
settlement of all claims in behalf of Joanna. These terms were finally
agreed to on both sides.

Richard also entered into a league, offensive and defensive, with
Tancred, agreeing to assist him in maintaining his position as King of
Sicily against all his enemies. This is a very important circumstance
to be remembered, for the chief of Tancred's enemies was the Emperor
Henry of Germany, the prince who had married Constance, as has been
already related. Henry's father had died, and he had become Emperor of
Germany himself, and he now claimed Sicily as the inheritance of
Constance his wife, according to the will of King William, Joanna's
husband. Tancred, he maintained, was a usurper, and, of course, now
Richard, by his league, offensive and defensive, with Tancred, made
himself Henry's enemy. This led him into serious difficulty with Henry
at a subsequent period, as we shall by-and-by see.

The treaty between Richard and Tancred was drawn up in due form and
duly executed, and it was sent for safe keeping to Rome, and there
deposited with the Pope. Tancred paid Richard the money, and he
immediately began to squander it in the most lavish and extravagant
manner. He expended the infant princess's dower, which he held in
trust for Arthur, as freely as he did the other money. Indeed, this
was a very common way, in those days, for great kings to raise money.
If they had a young son or heir, no matter how young he was, they
would contract to give him in marriage to the little daughter of some
other potentate on condition of receiving some town, or castle, or
province, or large sum of money as dower. The idea was, of course,
that they were to take this dower in charge for the young prince, to
keep it for him until he should become old enough to be actually
married, but in reality they would take possession of the property
themselves, and convert it at once to their own use.

Richard himself had been affianced in this way in his infancy to
Alice, the daughter of the then reigning King of France, and the
sister of Philip, and his father, King Henry the Second, had received
and appropriated the dowry.

Indeed, in this case, both the sums of money that Richard received
from Tancred were paid to Richard in trust, or, at least, ought to
have been so regarded, the one amount being for Arthur, and the other
for Joanna. Richard himself, in his own name, had no claims on Tancred
whatever; but as soon as the money came into his hands, he began to
expend it in the most profuse and lavish manner. He adopted a very
extravagant and ostentatious style of living. He made costly presents
to the barons, and knights, and officers of the armies, including the
French army as well as his own, and gave them most magnificent
entertainments. Philip thought that he did this to secure popularity,
and that the presents which he made to the French knights and nobles
were designed to entice them away from their allegiance and fidelity
to him, their lawful sovereign. At Christmas he gave a splendid
entertainment, to which he invited every person of the rank of a
knight or a gentleman in both armies, and at the close of the feast he
made a donation in money to each of the guests, the sum being
different in different cases, according to the rank and station of the
person who received it.

The king, having thus at last settled his quarrels and established
himself in something like peace in Sicily, began to turn his attention
toward the preparations for the spring. Of course, his intention was,
as soon as the spring should open, to set sail with his fleet and
army, and proceed toward the Holy Land. He now caused all his ships to
be examined with a view to ascertain what repairs they needed. Some
had been injured by the storms which they had encountered on the way
from Marseilles or by accidents of the sea. Others had become
worm-eaten and leaky by lying in port. Richard caused them all to be
put thoroughly in repair. He also caused a number of battering engines
to be constructed of timber which his men hauled from the forests
around the base of Mount Ætna. These engines were for assailing the
walls of the towns and fortresses in the Holy Land.

In modern times walls are always attacked with mortars and cannon. The
ordnance of the present day will throw shot and shells of prodigious
weight two or three miles, and these tremendous missiles strike
against the walls of a fortress with such force as in a short time to
batter them down, no matter how strong and thick they may be. But in
those days gunpowder was not in use, and the principal means of
breaking down a wall was by the battering-ram, which consisted of a
heavy beam of wood, hung by a rope or chain from a massive frame, and
then swung against the gate or wall which it was intended to break
through. In the engraving you see such a ram suspended from the frame,
with men at work below, impelling it against a gateway.

[Illustration: THE BATTERING-RAM.]

Sometimes these battering-rams were very large and heavy, and the men
drew them back and forth, in striking the wall with them, by means of
ropes. There are accounts of some battering-rams which weighed forty
or fifty tons, and required fifteen hundred men to work them.

The men, of course, were very much exposed while engaged in this
operation, for the people whom they were besieging would gather on the
walls above, and shoot spears, darts, and arrows at them, and throw
down stones and other missiles, as you see in the engraving.

[Illustration: THE BALLISTA.]

Then, besides the battering-ram, which, though very efficient against
walls, was of no service against men, there were other engines made
in those days which were designed to throw stones or monstrous darts.
These last were, of course, designed to operate against bodies of men.
They were made in various forms, and were called catapultas,
ballistas, maginalls, and by other such names. The force with which
they operated consisted of springs made by elastic bars of wood,
twisted ropes, and other such contrivances.

[Illustration: THE CATAPULTA.]

Some were for throwing stones, others for monstrous darts. Of course,
these engines required for their construction heavy frames of sound
timber. Richard did not expect to find such timber in the Holy Land,
nor did he wish to consume the time after he should arrive in making
them; so he employed the winter in constructing a great number of
these engines, and in packing them, in parts, on board his galleys.

Richard performed a great religious ceremony, too, while he was at
Sicily this winter, as a part of the preparation which he deemed it
necessary to make for the campaign. It is a remarkable fact that every
great military freebooter that has organized an armed gang of men to
go forth, and rob and murder his fellow-men, in any age of the world,
has considered some great religious performance necessary at the
outset of the work, to prepare the minds of his soldiers for it, and
to give them the necessary resolution and confidence in it. It was so
with Alexander. It was so with Xerxes and with Darius. It was so with
Pyrrhus. It is so substantially at the present day, when, in all wars,
each side makes itself the champion of heaven in the contest, and
causes Te Deums to be chanted in their respective churches, now on
this side and now on that, in pretended gratitude to God for their
alternate victories.

Richard called a grand convention of all the prelates and monks that
were with his army, and performed a solemn act of worship. A part of
the performance consisted of his kneeling personally before the
priests, confessing his sins and the wicked life that he had led, and
making very fervent promises to sin no more, and then, after
submitting to the penances which they enjoined upon him, receiving
from them pardon and absolution. After the enactment of this
solemnity, the soldiers felt far more safe and strong in going forth
to the work which lay before them in the Holy Land than before.

Nor is it certain that in this act Richard was wholly hypocritical and
insincere. The human heart is a mansion of many chambers, and a
religious sentiment, in no small degree conscientious and honest,
though hollow and mistaken, may have strong possession of some of
them, while others are filled to overflowing with the dear and
besetting sins, whatever they are, by which the general conduct of the
man is controlled.




CHAPTER IX.

BERENGARIA.

1190

Richard's betrothal to Berengaria--The obstacles which prevented the
marriage of Richard and Alice.--The first acquaintance of Richard
and the Princess Berengaria.--The fame of Berengaria.--Her
accomplishments.--Eleanora sent to King Sancho to ask his daughter
in marriage.--Berengaria's acceptance.--The expedition to meet
Richard.--Berengaria at Brindisi with Joanna.--The friendship
between Joanna and Berengaria.--Tancred receives a letter from
Philip.--Treachery.--Philip's letter to Tancred.--Richard's opinion
of it.--The etiquette of dueling.--Richard charges the letter upon
Philip.--Philip's reply.--Richard's declaration.--Richard and Philip
compromise their quarrel.--Re-embarkation.--Preparations for the
marriage.--Richard escorting Philip.--Why the wedding was
postponed.--Richard puts Joanna and Berengaria in charge of
Stephen.--The vow to conquer Acre.--Richard's present to Tancred.


While Richard was in the kingdom of Sicily during this memorable
winter, he made a new contract of marriage. The lady was a Spanish
princess named Berengaria. The circumstances of this betrothment were
somewhat extraordinary.

The reader will recollect that he had been betrothed in his earliest
youth to Alice, an infant princess of France. His father had thrown
him in, as it were, as a sort of makeweight, in arranging some
compromise with the King of France for the settlement of a quarrel,
and also to obtain the dower of the young princess for his own use.
This dower consisted of various castles and estates, which were
immediately put into the hands of Henry, Richard's father, and which
he continued to hold as long as he lived, using and enjoying the rents
and revenues from them as his own property. When Richard grew old
enough to claim his bride, Henry, under whose custody and charge she
had been placed, would not give her up to him; and long and serious
quarrels arose between the father and the son on this account, as has
already been related in this volume. The most obvious reason for which
Henry might be supposed unwilling to give up Alice to her affianced
husband, when he became old enough to be married to her, was, that he
wished to retain longer the use of the castles and estates that
constituted her dowry. But, in addition to this, it was surmised by
many that he had actually fallen in love with her himself, and that he
was determined that Richard should not have her at all. Richard
himself believed, or pretended to believe, that this was the case. He
was consequently very angry, and he justified himself in the wars and
rebellions that he raised against his father during the lifetime of
the king by this great wrong which he alleged that his father had done
him. On the other hand, many persons supposed that Richard did not
really wish to marry Alice, and that he only made the fact of his
father's withholding her from him a pretext for his unnatural
hostility, the real ends and aims of which were objects altogether
different.

However this may be, when Henry died, and there was no longer any
thing in the way of his marriage, he showed no desire to consummate
it. Alice's father, too, had died, and Philip, the present King of
France, and Richard's ally, was her brother. Philip called upon
Richard from time to time to complete the marriage, but Richard found
various pretexts for postponing it, and thus the matter stood when the
expedition for the Holy Land set sail from Marseilles.

The next reason why Richard did not now wish to carry his marriage
with Alice into effect was that, in the mean time, while his father
had been withholding Alice from him, he had seen and fallen in love
with another lady, the Princess Berengaria. Richard first saw
Berengaria several years before, at a time when he was with his mother
in Aquitaine, during the life of his father. The first time that he
saw her was at a grand tournament which was celebrated in her native
city in Spain, and which Richard went to attend. The families had been
well acquainted with each other before, though, until the tournament,
Richard had never seen Berengaria. Richard had, however, known one of
her brothers from his boyhood, and they had always been very great
friends. The father of Berengaria, too, Sancho the Wise, King of
Navarre, had always been a warm friend of Eleanora, Richard's mother,
and in the course of the difficulties and quarrels that took place
between her and her husband, as related in the early chapters of this
volume, he had rendered her very valuable services. Still, Richard
never saw Berengaria until she had grown up to womanhood.

He, however, felt a strong desire to see her, for she was quite
celebrated for her beauty and her accomplishments. The accomplishments
in which she excelled were chiefly music and poetry. Richard himself
was greatly interested in these arts, especially in the songs of the
Troubadours, whose performances always formed a very important part of
the entertainment at the feasts and tournaments, and other great
public celebrations of those days.

When Richard came to see Berengaria, he fell deeply in love with her.
But he could not seek her hand in marriage on account of his
engagement with Alice. To have given up Alice, and to have entered
instead into an engagement with her, would have involved both him and
his mother, and all the family of Berengaria too, in a fierce quarrel
with the King of France, the father of Alice, and also with his own
father. These were too serious consequences for him to brave while he
was still only a prince, and nominally under his father's authority.
So he did nothing openly, though a strong secret attachment sprang up
between him and Berengaria, and all desire ever to make Alice his wife
gradually disappeared.

At length, when his father died, and Richard became King of England,
he felt at once that the power was now in his own hands, and that he
would do as he liked in respect to his marriage. Alice's father, too,
had died, and her brother Philip was now king, and he was not likely
to feel so strong an interest in resenting any supposed slight to his
sister as her father would have been. Richard determined, therefore,
to give up Alice altogether, and ask Berengaria to be his wife. So,
while he was engaged in England in making his preparations for the
crusade, and when he was nearly ready to set out, he sent his mother,
Eleanora, to Navarre to ask Berengaria in marriage of her father, King
Sancho. He did not, however, give Philip any notice of this change in
his plans, not wishing to embarrass the alliance that he and Philip
were forming with any unnecessary difficulties which might interfere
with the success of it, and retard the preparations for the crusade.
So, while his mother had gone to Spain to secure Berengaria for him
as his wife, he himself, in England and Normandy, went on with his
preparations for the crusade in connection with Philip, just as if the
original engagement with Alice was going regularly on.

Eleanora was very successful in her mission. Sancho, Berengaria's
father, was very much pleased with so magnificent an offer as that of
the hand of Richard, Duke of Normandy and King of England, for his
daughter. Berengaria herself made no objection. Eleanora said that her
son had not been able to come himself and claim his bride, on account
of the necessity that he was under of accompanying his army to the
East, but she said that he would stop at Messina, and she proposed
that Berengaria should put herself under her protection, and go and
join him there.

Berengaria was a lady of an ardent and romantic temperament, and
nothing could please her better than such a proposal as this. She very
readily acceded to it, and her father was very willing to intrust her
to the charge of Eleanora. So the two ladies, with a proper train of
barons, knights, and other attendants, set out together. They crossed
the Pyrenees into France, and then, after traversing France, they
passed over the Alps into Italy. Thence they continued their journey
down the Italian coast by land, as Richard had done by water, until at
last they arrived at a place called Brindisi, which is on the coast of
Italy, not far from Messina. Here they halted, and sent word to
Richard to inform him of their arrival.

Eleanora thought that Berengaria could not go any farther with
propriety, for her engagement with Richard was not yet made public.
Indeed, the betrothal of Richard with Alice still remained nominally
in force, and a serious difficulty was to be apprehended with Philip
so soon as the new plans which Richard had formed should be announced
to him.

Eleanora said that she could not remain long in Italy, but must return
to Normandy very soon, without waiting for Richard to prepare the way
for receiving his bride. So she left Berengaria under the charge of
Joanna, who, being her own--that is, Eleanora's--daughter, was a very
proper person to be the young lady's protector. Joanna and Berengaria
immediately conceived a strong attachment for each other, and they
lived together in a very happy manner. Joanna was glad to have for a
companion so charming a young lady, and one of so high a rank, and
Berengaria, on the other hand, was much pleased to be placed under the
charge of so kind a protector. Joanna, too, having long lived in
Sicily, could give Berengaria a great deal of interesting intelligence
about the country and the people, and could answer all the thousand
questions which she asked about what she heard and saw in the new
world, as it were, into which she had been ushered.

The two ladies lived, of course, in very close seclusion, but they
lived so lovingly together that one of the writers of the day, in a
ballad that he wrote, compared them to two birds in a cage. Speaking
of Eleanora, he says, in the quaint old English of the day,

     "She beleft Berengere
     At Richard's costage.
     Queen Joanne held her dear;
     They lived as doves in a cage."

The arrival of Berengaria at Brindisi took place in the spring of the
year, when the time was drawing nigh for the fleets and armaments to
sail for the East. As yet, Philip knew nothing of Richard's plans in
respect to this new marriage, but the time had now arrived when
Richard perceived that they could no longer be concealed. Philip
entertained suspicions that something wrong was going on, though he
did not know exactly what. His suspicions made him watchful and
jealous, and at last they led to a curious train of circumstances,
which brought matters to a crisis very suddenly.

It seems that at one time, when Richard was paying a visit to Tancred,
the King of Sicily, Tancred showed him a letter which he said he had
received from the French king. In this letter, Philip--if, indeed,
Philip really wrote it--endeavored to excite Tancred's enmity against
Richard. It was just after the treaty between Tancred and Richard had
been formed, as related in the last chapter. The letter said that
Richard was a treacherous man, in whom no reliance could be placed;
that he had no intention of keeping the treaty that he had made, but
was laying a scheme for attacking Tancred in his Sicilian dominions;
and, finally, it closed with an offer on the part of the writer to
assist Tancred in driving Richard and all his followers out of the
island.

When Richard read this letter, he was at first in a dreadful rage, and
he broke out into an explosion of the most violent, profane, and
passionate language that can be conceived. Presently he looked at the
letter again, and on reperusing it, and carefully considering its
contents, he declared that he did not believe that Philip ever wrote
it. It was a stratagem of Tancred's, he thought, designed to promote a
quarrel between Richard and his ally. Tancred assured him that Philip
did write the letter, or, at least, that it was brought to him as
from Philip by the Duke of Burgundy, one of his principal officers.

"You may ask the Duke of Burgundy," said he, "and if he denies it, I
will challenge him to a duel through one of my barons."

It was necessary that the parties to a duel, in those days, should be
of equal rank, so that, if a king had a quarrel with a nobleman of
another nation, he could only send one of his own noblemen of the same
rank to be his representative in the combat. But this proposal of
sending another man to risk his life in maintaining the cause of his
king on a question of veracity, in which the person so sent had no
interest whatever, illustrates very curiously the ideas of those
chivalrous times.

Richard did not go to the Duke of Burgundy, but, taking the letter
which Tancred had shown him, he waited until he found a good
opportunity, and then showed it to Philip. The two kings often fell
into altercations and disputes in their interviews with each other,
and it was in one of these that Richard produced the letter, offering
it by way of recrimination to some charges or accusations which Philip
was making against him. Philip denied having written the letter. It
was a forgery, he said, and he believed that Richard himself was the
author of it.

"You are trying every way you can," said he, "to find pretexts for
quarreling with me, and this is one of your devices. I know what you
are aiming at: you wish to quarrel with me so as to find some excuse
for breaking off your marriage with my sister, whom you are bound by a
most solemn oath to marry. But of this you may be sure, that if you
abandon her and take any other wife, you will find me, as long as you
live, your most determined and mortal enemy."

This declaration aroused Richard's temper, and brought the affair at
once to a crisis. Richard declared to Philip that he never would marry
his sister.

"My father," said he, "kept her from me for many years because he
loved her himself, and she returned his love, and now I will never
have any thing to do with her. I am ready to prove to you the truth of
what I say."

So Richard brought forward what he called the proofs of the very
intimate relations which had subsisted between Alice and his father.
Whether there was any thing genuine or conclusive in these proofs is
not known. At all events, they made a very deep and painful
impression on Philip. The disclosure was, as one of the writers of
those times says, "like a nail driven directly through his heart."

After a while, the two kings concluded to settle the difficulty by a
sort of compromise. Philip agreed to give up all claims on the part of
Alice to Richard in consideration of a sum of money which Richard was
to pay. Richard was to pay two thousand marks[D] a year for five
years, and was on that condition to be allowed to marry any one he
chose. He was also to restore to Philip the fortresses and estates
which had been conveyed to his father as Alice's dowry at the time of
her betrothment to Richard in her infancy.

[Footnote D: The mark is about three dollars.]

This agreement, being thus made, was confirmed by a great profusion of
oaths, sworn with all solemnity, and the affair was considered as
settled.

Still, Richard seems to have been a little disinclined to bring out
Berengaria at once from her retreat, and let Philip know suddenly how
far his arrangements for marrying another lady had gone; so he
concluded to wait, before publicly announcing his intended marriage,
until Philip should have sailed for the East. Philip was now, indeed,
nearly ready to go; his fleet and his armament, being smaller than
Richard's, could be dispatched earlier; so Richard devoted himself
very earnestly to the work of facilitating and hastening his ally's
departure, determining that immediately afterward he would bring
forward his bride and celebrate his marriage.

It is not, however, certain that he kept his intended marriage with
Berengaria an absolute secret from Philip. There would be no longer
any special necessity for this after the treaty that had been made.
But, notwithstanding this agreement, it is not to be supposed that the
new marriage would be a very agreeable subject for Philip to
contemplate, or that it would be otherwise than very awkward for him
to be present on the occasion of the celebration of it; so Richard
decided that, on all accounts, it was best to postpone the ceremony
until after Philip had gone.

Philip sailed the very last of March. Richard selected from his fleet
a few of his most splendid galleys, and with these, filled with a
chosen company of knights and barons, he accompanied Philip as he left
the harbor, and sailed with him down the Straits of Messina, with
trumpets sounding, and flags and banners waving in the air. As soon as
Philip's fleet reached the open sea, Richard took leave, and set out
with his galleys on his return; but, instead of going back to Messina,
he made the best of his way to the port in Italy where Berengaria and
Joanna were lodging, and there took the ladies, who were all ready,
expecting him, and embarking them on board a very elegantly adorned
galley which he had prepared for them, he conducted them to Messina.

Richard would now probably have been immediately married, but it was
in the season of Lent, and, according to the ideas of those times, it
would be in some sense a desecration of that holy season of fasting to
celebrate any such joyous ceremony as a wedding in it; and it would
not do very well to postpone the sailing of the fleet until after the
season of Lent should have expired, for the time had already fully
arrived when it ought to sail, and Philip, with his division of the
allied force, had already gone; so he concluded to put off his
marriage till they should reach the next place at which the expedition
should land.

Berengaria consented to this, and it was arranged that she was to
accompany the expedition when it should sail, and that at the next
place of landing, which it was expected would be the island of Rhodes,
the marriage ceremony should be performed.

As it was not considered quite proper, however, under these
circumstances, that the princess should sail in the same ship with
Richard, a very strong and excellent ship was provided for her special
use, and that of Joanna who was to accompany her, and it was arranged
that she should sail from the port just before the main body of the
fleet were ready to commence the voyage. The ship in which the ladies
and their suite were conveyed was placed under the command of a brave
and faithful knight named Stephen of Turnham, and the two princesses
were committed to his special charge.

But, although Richard's regard for the sacred season of Lent would not
allow of his celebrating the marriage, he made a grand celebration in
honor of his betrothment to Berengaria before he sailed. At this
celebration he instituted an order of twenty-four knights. These
knights bound themselves in a fraternity with the king, and took a
solemn oath that they would scale the walls of Acre when they reached
the Holy Land. Acre was one of the strongest and most important
fortresses in that country, and one which they were intending first to
attack.

Also, before he went away, Richard made King Tancred a farewell
present of a very valuable antique sword, which had been found, he
said, by his father in the tomb of a famous old English knight who had
lived some centuries before.




CHAPTER X.

THE CAMPAIGN IN CYPRUS.

1190

The expedition is at last ready to sail from Sicily.--The grand
spectacle of the embarkation at Messina.--The order of
sailing.--Trenc-le-mer.--The storm.--Navigation in the twelfth
century.--Limesol in Cyprus.--The wrecked ships.--King Richard's
seal.--The wreckers.--Isaac Comnenus.--Law and justice.--Law is
not the creator, but the protector of property.--Joanna's
inquiries for her brother.--An alarm.--A retreat.--Richard's
vessel appears.--Richard's indignation on meeting Joanna's
vessel.--Richard's contest with King Isaac Comnenus.--The history
of the law of wrecks.--Richard having landed, Isaac asks
a truce.--Negotiating.--Richard was a Norman, not an
Englishman.--Preparing for war.--King Richard's battle-axe.--The
conquest of Limesol.--Signaling for the queen's galley.--The
terms of peace which Richard offered to Isaac.--How Richard
faithlessly took King Isaac a prisoner.--King Richard subjugates
Cyprus.--The miserable death of King Isaac.--Richard's wedding at
last.--A coronation.--The king's accoutrement.--Favelle.--The
appearance of Berengaria.--


The time at length fully arrived for the departure of the English
fleet from Sicily for the purpose of continuing the voyage to the Holy
Land. Besides the delay which had been occasioned to Richard by
circumstances connected with his marriage, he had waited also a short
time for some store-ships to arrive from England with ammunition and
supplies. When the store-ships at length came, the day for the sailing
was immediately appointed, the tents were struck, the encampment
abandoned, and the troops embarked on board the ships of the fleet.

The Sicilians were all greatly excited, as the sailing of the fleet
drew nigh, with anticipations of the splendor of the spectacle. The
harbor was filled with ships of every form and size, and the movements
connected with the embarkation of the troops on board of them, the
striking of the tents, the packing up of furniture and goods, the
hurrying of men to and fro, the crowding at the landings, the rapid
transit of boats back and forth between the ships and the shore, and
all the other scenes and incidents usually attendant on the
embarkation of a great army, occupied the attention of the people of
the country, and filled them with excitement and pleasure. It is
highly probable, too, that their pleasure was increased by the
prospect that they were soon to be relieved from the presence of such
troublesome and unmanageable visitors.

Never was a finer spectacle witnessed than that which was displayed by
the sailing of the fleet, when the day for the departure of it at
length arrived. The squadron consisted of nearly two hundred vessels
in all. There were thirteen great ships, corresponding to what are
called ships of the line of modern times. Then there were over fifty
galleys. These were constructed so as to be propelled either by oars
or by sails. Of course, when the wind was favorable, the sails would
be used; but in case of calms, or of adverse winds blowing off from
the land when the vessels were entering port, or of currents drifting
them into danger, then the oars could be brought into requisition. In
addition to these ships and galleys, there were about a hundred
vessels used as transports for the conveyance of provisions, stores,
tents, and tent equipage, ammunition of all kinds, including the
frames of the military engines which Richard had caused to be
constructed in Sicily, and all the other supplies required for the use
of a great army. Besides these there were a great many other smaller
vessels, which were used as tenders, lighters, and for other such
purposes, making a total number of nearly two hundred. In the order of
sailing, the transports followed the ships and galleys, which were
more properly the ships of war, and which led the van, in order the
better to meet any danger which might appear, and the more effectually
to protect the convoy from it.

Richard sailed at the head of his fleet in a splendid galley, which
was appropriated to his special use. The name of it was the Sea
Cutter.[E] There was a huge lantern hoisted in the stern of Richard's
galley, in order that the rest of the fleet could see and follow her
in the night.

[Footnote E: _Trenc-le-mer_, literally, _Cut the sea_.]

[Illustration: MAP ILLUSTRATING THE HISTORY OF KING RICHARD'S
CRUSADE]

The day of sailing was very fine, and the spectacle, witnessed by the
Sicilians on shore, who watched the progress of it from every
projecting point and headland as it moved majestically out of the
harbor, was extremely grand. For some time the voyage went on very
prosperously, but at length the sky gradually became overcast, and the
wind began to blow, and finally a great storm came on before the ships
had time to seek any shelter. In those days there was no mariner's
compass, and of course, in a storm, when the sun and stars were
concealed, there was nothing to be done but for the ship to grope her
way through the haze and rain for any land which might be near. The
violence of the wind and the raging of the sea was in this case so
great that the fleet was soon dispersed, and the vessels were driven
northward and eastward toward certain islands which lie in that part
of the Mediterranean, off the coasts of Asia Minor. The three
principal of these islands, as you will see by the opposite map, are
Candia, Rhodes, and Cyprus, Cyprus lying farther toward the east.

The ships came very near being wrecked on the coast of Crete, but they
escaped and were driven onward over the sea, until at length a large
portion of them found refuge at Rhodes. Others were driven on toward
Cyprus. Richard's galley was among those that found refuge at Rhodes;
but, unfortunately, the one in which Berengaria and Joanna were borne
did not succeed in making a port there, but was swept onward by the
gale, and, in company with one or two others, was driven to the mouth
of the harbor of Limesol, which is the principal port of Cyprus, and
is situated on the south side of the island. The galley in which the
queen and the princess were embarked, being probably of superior
construction to the others, and better manned, succeeded in weathering
the point and getting round into the harbor, but two or three other
galleys which were with them struck and were wrecked. One of these
ships was a very important one. It contained the chancellor who bore
Richard's great seal, besides a number of other knights and crusaders
of high rank, and many valuable goods. The seal was an object of great
value. Every king had his own seal, which was used to authenticate his
public acts. The one which belonged to Richard is represented in the
following engraving.

As soon as the news of these wrecks spread into the island, the people
came down in great numbers, and took possession of every thing of
value which was cast upon the shore as property forfeited to the king
of the country. The name of this king was Isaac Comnenus.

He claimed that all wrecks cast upon his shores were his property.
That was the law of the land; it was, in fact, the law of a great many
countries in those days, especially of such as had maritime coasts
bordering on navigable waters that were specially exposed to storms.

[Illustration: KING RICHARD'S SEAL.]

Thus, in seizing the wreck of Richard's vessels, King Isaac had the
law on his side, and all those who, in their theory of government,
hold it as a principle that law is the foundation of property, and
that what the law makes right is right, must admit that he had justice
on his side too. For my part, it seems clear that the right of
property is anterior to all law, and independent of it. I think that
the province of law is not to create property, but to protect it, and
that it may, instead of protecting it, become the greatest violator of
it. This law providing for the confiscation of property cast in wrecks
upon a shore, and its forfeiture to the sovereign of the territory, is
one of the most striking instances of aggression made by law on the
natural and indefeasible rights of man.

In regard to the galley which contained the queens, that having
escaped shipwreck, and having safely anchored in the harbor, the king
had no pretext for molesting it in any way. He learned by some means
that Queen Joanna was on board the galley; so he sent two boats down
with a messenger, to inquire whether her majesty would be pleased to
land.

Stephen of Turnham, the knight who had command of the queen's galley,
thought it not safe to go on shore, for by doing so Joanna and
Berengaria would put themselves entirely in King Isaac's power; and
though it was true that Isaac and the people of Cyprus over whom he
ruled were Christians, yet they were of the Greek Church, while
Richard and the English were Roman, and these two churches were
almost as hostile to each other as the Christians and the Turks.
Stephen, however, communicated the message from Isaac to Joanna, and
asked her majesty's pleasure thereupon. She sent back word to the
messengers that she did not wish to land. She had only come into the
harbor, she said, to see if she could learn any tidings of her
brother; she had been separated from him by a great storm at sea,
which had broken up and dispersed the fleet, and she wished to know
whether any thing had been seen of him, or of any of his vessels, from
the shores of that island.

The messengers replied that they did not know any thing about it, and
so the boats returned back to the town. Soon after this the company on
board the galley saw some armed vessels coming down the harbor toward
them. They were alarmed at this sight, and immediately got every thing
ready for setting off at a moment's notice to withdraw from the
harbor. It turned out that the king himself was on board one of the
galleys that was coming down, and this vessel was allowed to come near
enough for the king to communicate with the people on board Joanna's
galley. After some ordinary questions had been asked and answered,
the king, observing that a lady of high rank was standing on the deck
with Joanna, asked who it was. They answered that it was the Princess
of Navarre, who was going to be married to Richard. In the reply which
the king made to this intelligence Stephen of Turnham thought he saw
such indications of hostility that he deemed it most prudent to
retire; so the anchor was raised, and the order was given to the
oarsmen, who had already been stationed at their oars, to "give way,"
and the oarsmen pulled vigorously at the oars. The galley was
immediately taken out into the offing. The King of Cyprus did not
pursue her; so she anchored there quietly, the storm having now nearly
subsided. Stephen resolved to wait there for a time, hoping that in
some way or other he might soon receive intelligence from Richard.

Nor was he disappointed. Richard, whose galley, together with the
principal portion of the fleet, had been driven farther to the
eastward, had found refuge at Rhodes, and he set off, as soon as the
storm abated, in pursuit of the missing vessels. He took with him a
sufficient force to render to the vessels, if he should find them,
such assistance or protection as might be necessary. At length he
reached Cyprus, and, on entering the bay, there he beheld the galley
of Joanna and Berengaria riding safely at anchor in the offing. The
sea had not yet gone down, and the vessel was rolling and tossing on
the waves in a fearful manner. Richard was greatly enraged at
beholding this spectacle, for he at once inferred, by seeing the
vessel in this uncomfortable situation outside the harbor, that some
difficulty with the authorities had occurred which prevented her
seeking refuge and protection within. Accordingly, as soon as he came
near, he leaped into a boat, although burdened as he was with heavy
armor of steel, which was a difficult and somewhat dangerous
operation, and ordered himself to be rowed immediately on board.

When he arrived, after the first greetings were over, he was informed
by Stephen that three of the vessels of his fleet had been wrecked on
the coast; that Isaac, the king, had seized them as his lawful prize;
and that, at that very time, men that he had sent for this purpose
were plundering the wrecks. Stephen also said that he had at first
gone into the harbor with his galley, but that the indications of an
unfriendly feeling on the part of the king were so decided that he
did not dare to stay, and he had been compelled to come out into the
offing.

On hearing these things Richard was greatly enraged. He sent a
messenger on shore to the king to demand peremptorily that he should
at once leave off plundering the wrecks of the English ships, and that
he should deliver up to Richard again all the goods that had already
been taken. To this demand Isaac replied that whatever goods the sea
cast upon the shores of his island were his property, according to the
law of the land, and that he should take them without asking leave of
any body.

When Richard heard this answer, he was rather pleased than displeased
with it, for it gave him, what he always wanted wherever he went, a
pretext for quarreling. He said that the goods which Isaac obtained in
that way he would find would cost him pretty dear, and he immediately
prepared for war.

In this transaction there is no question that the King of Cyprus,
though wholly wrong, and guilty of a real and inexcusable violation of
the rights of property, had yet the law on his side. It was one of
those cases, of which innumerable examples have existed in all ages of
the world, where an act which is virtually the robbing of one man by
another is authorized by law, and is protected by legal sanctions.
This rule--confiscating property wrecked--was the general law of
Europe at this time, and Richard, of all men, might have considered
himself estopped from objecting to it by the fact that it was the law
in England as well as every where else. By the ancient common law of
England, all wrecks of every kind became the property of the king. The
severity of the rule had been slightly mitigated a few reigns before
Richard's day by a statute which declared that if any living thing
escaped from the wreck, even were it so much as a dog or a cat, that
circumstance saved the property from confiscation, and preserved the
claim of the owner to it. With this modification, the law stood in
England until a very late period, that all goods thrown from wrecks
upon the shores became the property of the crown, and it was not until
comparatively quite a recent period that an English judge decided that
such a principle, being contrary to justice and common sense, was not
law; and now wrecked property is restored to whomsoever can prove
himself to be the owner, on his paying for the expense and trouble of
saving it.

On receiving the demand which Richard sent him, the King of Cyprus,
anticipating difficulty, drew up his galleys in order of battle across
the harbor, and marched troops down to commanding positions on the
shore, wherever he thought there might be any danger that Richard
would attempt to land. Richard very soon brought up his forces and
advanced to attack him. Isaac's troops retreated as Richard advanced.
Finally they were driven back without much actual contest into the
town, and Richard then brought his squadron up into harbor and landed.
Isaac, seeing how much stronger Richard was than he, did not attempt
any serious resistance, but retired to the citadel. From the citadel
he sent out a flag of truce demanding a parley.

Richard granted the request, and an interview took place, but it led
to no result. Richard found that Isaac was not yet absolutely subdued.
He still asserted his rights, and complained of the gross wrong which
Richard was perpetrating in invading his dominions, and seeking a
quarrel with him without cause; but the effect was like that of the
lamb attempting to resist or recriminate the wolf, which, far from
bringing the aggressor to reason, only awakens more strongly his
ferocity and rage. Richard turned toward his attendants, and, uttering
a profane exclamation, said that Isaac talked like a fool of a Briton.

It is mentioned as a remarkable circumstance by the historians that
Richard spoke these words in English, and it is said that this was the
only time in the course of his life that he ever used that language.
It may seem very strange to the reader that an English king should not
ordinarily use the English language. But, strictly speaking, Richard
was not an English king. He was a Norman king. The whole dynasty to
which he belonged were Norman French in all their relations. Normandy
they regarded as the chief seat of their empire. There were their
principal cities--there their most splendid palaces. There they lived
and reigned, with occasional excursions for comparatively brief
periods across the Channel. They considered England much as the
present English sovereigns do Ireland, namely, as a conquered country,
which had become a possession and a dependency upon the crown, but not
in any sense the seat of empire, and they utterly despised the native
inhabitants. In view of these facts, the wonder that Richard, the King
of England, never spoke the English tongue at once disappears.

The conference broke up, and both sides prepared for war. Isaac,
finding that he was not strong enough to resist such a horde of
invaders as Richard brought with him, withdrew from his capital and
retired to a fortress among the mountains. Richard then easily took
possession of the town. A moderate force had been left to protect it;
but Richard, promising his troops plenty of booty when they should get
into it, led the way, waving his battle-axe in the air.

This battle-axe was a very famous weapon. It was one which Richard had
caused to be made for himself before leaving England, and it was the
wonder of the army on account of its size and weight. The object of a
battle-axe was to break through the steel armor with which the knights
and warriors of those days were accustomed to cover themselves, and
which was proof against all ordinary blows. Now Richard was a man of
prodigious personal strength, and, when fitting out his expedition in
England, he caused an unusually large and heavy battle-axe to be made
for himself, by way of showing his men what he could do in swinging a
heavy weapon. The head of this axe, or hammer, as perhaps it might
more properly have been called, weighed twenty pounds, and most
marvelous stories were told of the prodigious force of the blow that
Richard could strike with it. When it came down on the head of a
steel-clad knight on his horse, it broke through every thing, they
said, and crushed man and horse both to the ground.

       *       *       *       *       *

The assault on Limesol was successful. The people made but a feeble
resistance. Indeed, they had no weapons which could possibly enable
them to stand a moment against the Crusaders. They were half naked,
and their arms were little better than clubs and stones. They were, in
consequence, very easily driven off the ground, and Richard took
possession of the city.

He then immediately made a signal for Joanna's galley--which, during
all this time, had remained at the mouth of the harbor--to advance.
The galley accordingly came up, and Joanna and the princess were
received by the whole army at the landing with loud acclamations. They
were immediately conducted into the town, and there were lodged
splendidly in the best of Isaac's palaces.

But the contest was not yet ended. The place to which Isaac had
retreated was a city which he possessed in the interior of the island
called Nicosia. From this place he sent a messenger to Richard to
propose another conference, with a view of attempting once more to
agree upon some terms of peace. Richard agreed to this, and a place of
meeting was appointed on a plain near Limesol, the port. King Isaac,
accompanied by a suitable number of attendants, repaired to this
place, and the conference was opened. Richard was mounted on a
favorite Spanish charger, and was splendidly dressed in silk and gold.
He assumed a very lofty bearing and demeanor toward his humbled enemy,
and informed him in a very summary manner on what terms alone he was
willing to make peace.

"I will make peace with you," said Richard, "on condition that you
hold your kingdom henceforth subject to me. You are to deliver up all
the castles and strongholds to me, and do me homage as your
acknowledged sovereign. You are also to pay me an ample indemnity in
gold for the damage you did to my wrecked galleys. I shall expect you,
moreover, to join me in the crusade. You must accompany me to the
Holy Land with not less than five hundred foot-soldiers, four hundred
horsemen, and one hundred full-armed knights. For security that you
will faithfully fulfill these conditions, you must put the princess,
your daughter, into my hands as a hostage. Then, in case your conduct
while in my service in the Holy Land is in all respects perfectly
satisfactory, I will restore your daughter, and also your castles, to
you on my return."

Isaac's daughter was a very beautiful young princess. She was
extremely beloved by her father, and was highly honored by the people
of the land as the heir to the crown.

These conditions were certainly very hard, but the poor king was in no
condition to resist any demands that Richard might choose to make.
With much distress and anguish of mind, he pretended to agree to these
terms, though he secretly resolved that he could not and would not
submit to them. Richard suspected his sincerity, and, in utter
violation of all honorable laws and usages of war, he made him a
prisoner, and set guards over him to watch him until the stipulations
should be carried into effect. Isaac contrived to escape from his
keepers in the night, and, putting himself at the head of such troops
as he could obtain, prepared for war, with the determination to resist
to the last extremity.

Richard now resolved to proceed at once to take the necessary measures
for the complete subjugation of the island. He organized a large body
of land forces, and directed them to advance into the interior of the
country, and put down all resistance. At the same time, he placed
himself at the head of his fleet, and, sailing round the island, he
took possession of all the towns and fortresses on the shore. He also
seized every ship and every boat, large and small, that he could find,
and thus entirely cut off from King Isaac all chance of escaping by
sea. In the mean time, the unhappy monarch, with the few troops that
still adhered to him, was driven from place to place, until at last he
was completely hemmed in, and was compelled to fight or surrender.
They fought. The result was what might have been expected. Richard was
victorious. The capital, Limesol, fell into his hands, and the king
and his daughter were taken prisoners.

The princess was greatly terrified when she was brought into Richard's
presence. She fell on her knees before him, and cried,

"My lord the king, have mercy upon me!"

Richard put forth his hand to lift her up, and then sent her to
Berengaria.

"I give her to you," said he, "for an attendant and companion."

The king was almost broken-hearted at having his daughter taken away
from him. He threw himself at Richard's feet, and begged him, with the
most earnest entreaty, to restore him his child. Richard paid no heed
to this request, but ordered Isaac to be taken away. Soon after this
he sent him across the sea to Tripoli in Syria, and there shut him up
in the dungeon of a castle, a hopeless prisoner. The unhappy captive
was secured in his dungeon by chains; but, in honor of his rank, the
chains, by Richard's directions, were made of silver, overlaid with
gold. The poor king pined in this place of confinement for four years,
and then died.

As soon as Isaac had gone, and things had become somewhat settled.
Richard found himself undisputed master of Cyprus, and he resolved to
annex the island to his own dominions.

"And now," said he to himself, "it will be a good time for me to be
married."

So, after making the necessary arrangements for assembling his whole
fleet again, and repairing the damages which had been sustained by the
storm, he began to make preparations for the wedding. Berengaria made
no objection to this. Indeed, the fright which she had suffered at sea
in being separated from Richard, and the anxiety she had endured when,
after the storm, she gazed in every direction all around the horizon,
and could see no signs in any quarter of his ship, and when,
consequently, she feared that he might be lost, made her extremely
unwilling to be separated from him again.

The marriage was celebrated with great pomp and splendor, and many
feasts and entertainments, and public parades, and celebrations
followed, to commemorate the event. Among the other grand ceremonies
was a coronation--a double coronation. Richard caused himself to be
crowned King of Cyprus, and Berengaria Queen of England and of Cyprus
too.

The dress in which Richard appeared on these occasions is minutely
described. He wore a rose-colored satin tunic, which was fastened by a
jeweled belt about his waist. Over this was a mantle of striped silver
tissue, brocaded with silver half-moons. He wore an elegant and very
costly sword too. The blade was of Damascus steel, the hilt was of
gold, and the scabbard was of silver, richly engraved in scales. On
his head he wore a scarlet bonnet, brocaded in gold with figures of
animals. He bore in his hand what was called a truncheon, which was a
sort of sceptre, very splendidly covered and adorned.

He had an elegant horse--a Spanish charger--and wherever he went this
horse was led before him, with the bits, and stirrups, and all the
metallic mountings of the saddle and bridle in gold. The crupper was
adorned with two golden lions, figured with their paws raised in the
act of striking each other. Richard obtained another horse in Cyprus
among the spoils that he acquired there, and which afterward became
his favorite. His name was Favelle, though in some of the old annals
he is called Faunelle. This horse acquired great fame by the strength
and courage, and also the great sagacity, that he displayed in the
various battles that he was engaged in with his master. Indeed, at
last, he became quite a historical character.

Richard himself was a tall and well-formed man, and altogether a very
fine-looking man, and in this costume, with his yellow curls and
bright complexion, he appeared, they said, a perfect model of
military and manly grace.

There is a representation of Berengaria extant which is supposed to
show her as she appeared at this time. Her hair is parted in the
middle in front, and hangs down in long tresses behind. It is covered
with a veil, open on each side, like a Spanish mantilla. The veil is
fastened to her head by a royal diadem resplendent with gold and gems,
and is surmounted with a _fleur de lis_, with so much foliage added to
it as to give it the appearance of a double crown, in allusion to her
being the queen both of Cyprus and of England.

The whole time occupied by these transactions in Cyprus was only about
a month, and now, since every thing had been finished to his
satisfaction, Richard began to think once more of prosecuting his
voyage.




CHAPTER XI.

VOYAGE TO ACRE.

1190

The different names of Acre.--Order of St. John.--The
Hospitalers.--Knights of St. John.--Origin of the name of St.
Jean d'Acre.--The order.--A description of the town of
Acre.--Philip before Acre.--The siege.--Chasing a Saracen
vessel.--Desperation.--The terrible Greek fire which the Saracens
used.--The ship is taken.--A massacre.--Richard's defense.--King
Richard's cupidity.--The sinking ship.


The great landing-point for expeditions of Crusaders to the Holy Land
was Acre, or Akka, as it is often written. The town was originally
known as Ptolemais, and the situation of it may be found designated on
ancient maps under that name. The Turks called it Akka, which name the
French call Acre. It was also, after a certain time, called St. Jean
d'Acre. It received this name from a famous military order that was
founded in the Holy Land in the Middle Ages, called the Knights of St.
John.

The origin of the order was as follows: About a hundred years before
the time of Richard's crusade, a company of pious merchants from
Naples, who went to Jerusalem, took pity, while they were there, on
the pilgrims who came there to visit the Holy Sepulchre, and who,
being poor, and very insufficiently provided for the journey, suffered
a great many privations and hardships. These merchants accordingly
built and endowed a monastery, and made it the duty of the monks to
receive and take care of a certain number of these pilgrims.

They named the establishment the Monastery of St. John, and the monks
themselves were called Hospitalers, their business being to receive
and show hospitality to the pilgrims. So the monks were sometimes
designated as the Hospitalers and sometimes the Brothers of St. John.

Other travelers, who came to Jerusalem from time to time, seeing this
monastery, and observing the good which it was the means of effecting
for the poor pilgrims, became interested in its welfare, and made
grants and donations to it, by which, in the course of fifty years, it
became much enlarged. At length, in process of time, a _military_
order was connected with it. The pilgrims needed protection in going
to and fro, as well as food, shelter, and rest at the end of their
journey, and the military order was formed to furnish this protection.
The knights of this order were called Knights Hospitalers, and
sometimes Knights of St. John. The institution continued to grow, and
finally the seat of it was transferred to Acre, which was a much more
convenient place for giving succor to the pilgrims, and also for
fighting the Saracens, who were the great enemies that the pilgrims
had to fear. From this time the institution was called St. John of
Acre, as it was before St. John of Jerusalem, and finally its power
and influence became so predominant in the town that the town itself
was generally designated by the name of the institution, and it has
been called St. Jean d'Acre to this day.

The order became at last very numerous. Great numbers of persons
joined it from all the nations of Europe. They organized a regular
government. They held fortresses and towns, and other territorial
possessions of considerable value. They had a fleet, and an army, and
a rich treasury. In a word, they became, as it were, a government and
a nation.

The persons belonging to the order were divided into three classes:

     1. _Knights._--These were the armed men. They fought the
     battles, defended the pilgrims, managed the government, and
     performed all other similar functions.

     2. _Chaplains._--These were the priests and monks. They
     conducted worship, and attended, in general, to all the
     duties of devotion. They were the scholars, too, and acted
     as secretaries and readers, whenever such duties were
     required.

     3. _Servitors._--The duty of the servitors was, as their
     name imports, to take charge of the buildings and grounds
     belonging to the order, to wait upon the sick, and accompany
     pilgrims, and to perform, in general, all other duties
     pertaining to their station.

[Illustration: THE RAMPARTS OF ACRE.]

The town of Acre stood on the shore of the sea, and was very strongly
fortified. The walls and ramparts were very massive--altogether too
thick and high to be demolished or scaled by any means of attack known
in those days. The place had been in possession of the Knights of St.
John, but in the course of the wars between the Saracens and the
Crusaders that had prevailed before Richard came, it had fallen into
the hands of the Saracens, and now the Crusaders were besieging it, in
hopes to recover possession. They were encamped in thousands on a
plain outside the town, in a beautiful situation overlooking the sea.
Still farther back among the mountains were immense hordes of
Saracens, watching an opportunity to come down upon the plain and
overwhelm the Christian armies, while they, on the other hand, were
making continued assaults upon the town, in hopes of carrying it
by storm, before their enemies on the mountains could attack them. Of
course, the Crusaders were extremely anxious to have Richard arrive,
for they knew that he was bringing with him an immense re-enforcement.

Philip, the French king, had already arrived, and he exerted himself
to the utmost to take the town before Richard should come. But he
could not succeed. The town resisted all the attempts he could make to
storm it, and, in the mean time, his position and that of the other
Crusaders in the camp was becoming very critical, on account of the
immense numbers of Saracens in the mountains behind them, who were
gradually advancing their posts and threatening to surround the
Christians entirely. Philip, therefore, and the forces joined with
him, were beginning to feel very anxious to see Richard's ships
drawing near, and from their encampment on the plain they looked out
over the sea, and watched day after day, earnestly in hopes that they
might see the advanced ships of Richard's fleet coming into view in
the offing.

In the mean time, Richard, having sailed from Cyprus, was coming on,
though he was delayed on his way by an occurrence which he greatly
gloried in, deeming it doubtless a very brilliant exploit. The case
was this:

In sailing along with his squadron between Cyprus and the main land,
he suddenly fell in with a ship of very large size. At first Richard
and his men wondered what ship it could be. It was soon evident that,
whatever she was, she was endeavoring to escape. Richard ordered his
galleys to press on, and he soon found that the strange ship was full
of Saracens. He immediately ordered his men to advance and board her,
and he declared to his seamen that if they allowed her to escape he
would crucify them.

The Saracens, seeing that there was no possibility of escape, and
having no hope of mercy if they fell into Richard's hands, determined
to scuttle the ship, and to sink themselves and the vessel together.
They accordingly cut holes through the bottom as well as they could
with hatchets, and the water began to pour in. In the mean time,
Richard's galleys had surrounded the vessel, and a dreadful combat
ensued. Both parties fought like tigers. The Crusaders were furious to
get on board before the ship should go down, and the Saracens, though
they had no expectation of finally defending themselves against their
enemies, still hoped to keep them back until it should be too late for
them to obtain any advantage from their victory.

For a time they were quite successful in their resistance, chiefly by
means of what was called Greek fire. This Greek fire was a celebrated
means of warfare in those days, and was very terrible in its nature
and effects. It is not known precisely what it was, or how it was
made. It was an exceedingly combustible substance, and was to be
thrown, on fire, at the enemy; and such was its nature, that when once
in flames nothing could extinguish it; and, besides the heat and
burning that it produced, it threw out great volumes of poisonous and
stifling vapors, which suffocated all that came near. The men threw it
sometimes in balls, sometimes on the ends of darts and arrows, where
it was enveloped in flax or tow to keep it in its place. It burned
fiercely and furiously wherever it fell. Even water did not extinguish
it, and it was said that in this combat the sea all around the
Saracens' ship seemed on fire, and the decks of the galleys that
attacked them were blazing with it in every direction. Great numbers
of Richard's men were killed by it.

But the superiority of numbers on Richard's side was too great, and
after a time the Saracens were subdued, before the ship had admitted
water enough through the scuttlings to carry her down. Richard's men
poured in on board of her in great numbers. They immediately proceeded
to massacre or throw overboard the men as fast as possible, and to
seize the stores and transfer them to their own ships. They also did
all they could to stop the leaks, so as to delay the sinking of the
ship as long as possible. They had time to transfer to their own
vessels nearly all the valuable part of the cargo, and to kill and
drown all the men. Out of twelve or fifteen hundred, only about
thirty-five were spared.

When, afterward, public sentiment seemed inclined to condemn this
terrible and inexcusable massacre, Richard defended himself by saying
that he found on board the vessel a number of jars containing certain
poisonous reptiles, which he alleged the Saracens were going to take
to Acre, and there let them loose near the Crusaders' camp to bite the
soldiers, and that men who could resort to so barbarous a mode of
warfare as this deserved no quarter. However this may be, the poor
Saracens received no quarter. It might be supposed that Richard
deserved some credit for his humanity in saving the thirty-five. But
his object in saving these was not to show mercy, but to gain
ransom-money. These thirty-five were the _emirs_, or other officers of
the Saracens, or persons who looked as if they might be rich or have
rich friends. When they reached the shore, Richard fixed upon a
certain sum of money for each of them, and allowed them to send word
to their friends that if they would raise that money and send it to
Richard, he would set them at liberty. A great proportion of them were
thus afterward ransomed, and Richard realized from this source quite a
large sum.

When Richard's soldiers found that the time for the captured ship to
sink was drawing nigh, they abandoned her, leaving on board every
thing that they had not been able to save, and, withdrawing to a safe
distance, they saw her go down. The sea all around her was covered
with the bodies of the dead and dying, and also with bales of
merchandise, broken weapons, fragments of the wreck, and with the
flickering and exhausted remnants of the Greek fire.

The fleet then got under way again, and pursued its course to Acre.




CHAPTER XII.

THE ARRIVAL AT ACRE.

1190

The besieging army at Acre.--Motives of the Saracens.--Motives of
the Christians.--Envyings and jealousy among the besiegers.--King
of Jerusalem.--A common danger makes a common cause.--The
terrible loss of life in the siege of Acre.--The unwieldy armor
of the knights.--King Richard received by the besieging
army.--Berengaria a bride.--Philip's conciliation.


While Richard was thus, with his fleet, drawing near to Acre, the
armies of the Crusaders that were besieging the town had been for some
time gradually getting into a very critical situation. This army was
made up of a great many different bodies of troops, that had come in
the course of years from all parts of Europe to recover the Holy Land
from the possession of the unbelievers. There were Germans, and
French, and Normans, and Italians, and people from the different
kingdoms of Spain, with knights, and barons, and earls, and bishops,
and archbishops, and princes, and other dignitaries of all kinds
without number. With such a heterogeneous mass there could be no
common bond, nor any general and central authority. They spoke a great
variety of languages, and were accustomed to very different modes of
warfare; and the several orders of knights, and the different bodies
of troops, were continually getting involved in dissensions arising
from the jealousies and rivalries which they bore to each other. The
enemy, on the other hand, were united under the command of one great
and powerful Saracen leader named Saladin.

There was another great difference between the Crusaders and the
Saracens which was greatly to the advantage of the latter. The
Saracens were fighting simply to deliver their country from these
bands of invaders. Thus their object was _one_. If any part of the
army achieved a success, the other divisions rejoiced at it, for it
tended to advance them all toward the common end that all had in view.
On the other hand, the chief end and aim of the Crusaders was to get
glory to themselves in the estimation of friends and neighbors at
home, and of Europe in general. It is true that they desired to obtain
this glory by victories over the unbelievers and the conquest of the
Holy Land, but these last objects were the means and not the end. The
_end_, in their view, was their own personal glory. The consequence
was, that while the Saracens would naturally all rejoice at an
advantage gained over the enemy by any portion of their army, yet in
the camp of the Crusaders, if one body of knights performed a great
deed of strength or bravery which was likely to attract attention in
Europe, the rest were apt to be disappointed and vexed instead of
being pleased. They were envious of the fame which the successful
party had acquired. In a word, when an advantage was gained by any
particular body of troops, the rest did not think of the benefit to
the common cause which had thereby been secured, but only of the
danger that the fame acquired by those who gained it might eclipse or
outshine their own renown.

The various orders of knights and the commanders of the different
bodies of troops vied with each other, not only in respect to the
acquisition of glory, but also in the elegance of their arms, the
splendor of their tents and banners, the beauty and gorgeous
caparisons of the horses, and the pomp and parade with which they
conducted all their movements and operations. The camp was full of
quarrels, too, among the great leaders in respect to the command of
the places in the Holy Land which had been conquered in previous
campaigns. These places, as fast as they had been taken, had been made
principalities and kingdoms, to give titles of rank to the crusaders
who had taken them; and, though the places themselves had in many
instances been lost again, and given up to the Saracens, the titles
remained to be quarreled about among the Crusaders. There was
particularly a great quarrel at this time about the title of King of
Jerusalem. It was a mere empty title, for Jerusalem was in the hands
of the Saracens, but there were twenty very powerful and influential
claimants to it, each of whom manoeuvred and intrigued incessantly
with all the other knights and commanders in the army to gain
partisans to his side. Thus the camp of the Crusaders, from one cause
and another, had become one universal scene of rivalry, jealousy, and
discord.

There was a small approach toward a greater degree of unity of feeling
just before the time of Richard's arrival, produced by the common
danger to which they began to see they were exposed. They had been now
two years besieging Acre, and had accomplished nothing. All the
furious attempts that they had made to storm the place had been
unsuccessful. The walls were too thick and solid for the
battering-rams to make any serious impression upon them, and the
garrison within were so numerous and so well armed, and they hurled
down such a tremendous shower of darts, javelins, stones, and other
missiles of every kind upon all who came near, that immense numbers of
those who were brought up near the walls to work the engines were
killed, while the besieged themselves, being protected by the
battlements on the walls, were comparatively safe.

In the course of the two years during which the siege had now been
going on, bodies of troops from all parts of Europe had been
continually coming and going, and as in those days there was far less
of system and organization in the conduct of military affairs than
there is now, the camp was constantly kept in a greater or less degree
of confusion, so that it is impossible to know with certainty how many
were engaged, and what the actual loss of life had been. The lowest
estimate is that one hundred and fifty thousand men perished before
Acre during this siege, and some historians calculate the loss at five
hundred thousand. The number of deaths was greatly increased by the
plague, which prevailed at one time among the troops, and committed
fearful ravages. One thing, however, must be said, in justice to the
reckless and violent men who commanded these bands, and that is, that
they did not send their poor, helpless followers, the common
soldiers, into a danger which they kept out of themselves. It was a
point of honor with them to take the foremost rank, and to expose
themselves fully at all times to the worst dangers of the combat. It
is true that the knights and nobles were better protected by their
armor than the soldiers. They were generally covered with steel from
head to foot, and so heavily loaded with it were they, that it was
only on horseback that they could sustain themselves in battle at all.
Indeed, it was said that if a full-armed knight, in those days, were,
from any accident, unhorsed, his armor was so heavy that, if he were
thrown down upon the ground in his fall, he could not possibly get up
again without help.

Notwithstanding this protection, however, the knights and commanders
exposed themselves so much that they suffered in full proportion with
the rest. It was estimated that during the siege there fell in battle,
or perished of sickness or fatigue, eighteen or twenty archbishops and
bishops, forty earls, and no less than five hundred barons, all of
whose names are recorded. So they obtained what they went
for--commemoration in history. Whether the reward was worth the price
they paid for it, in sacrificing every thing like happiness and
usefulness in life, and throwing themselves, after a few short months
of furious and angry warfare, into a bloody grave, is a very serious
question.

       *       *       *       *       *

As soon as Richard's fleet appeared in view, the whole camp was thrown
into a state of the wildest commotion. The drums were beat, the
trumpets were sounded, and flags and banners without number were waved
in the air. The troops were paraded, and when the ships arrived at the
shore, and Richard and his immediate attendants and followers landed,
they were received by the commanders of the Crusaders' army on the
beach with the highest honors, while the soldiers drawn up around
filled the air with long and loud acclamations.

Berengaria had come from Cyprus, not in Richard's ship, although she
was now married to him. She had continued in her own galley, and was
still under the charge of her former guardian, Stephen of Turnham.
That ship had been fitted up purposely for the use of the queen and
the princess, and the arrangements on board were more suitable for the
accommodation of ladies than were those of Richard's ship, which being
strictly a war vessel, and intended always to be foremost in every
fight, was arranged solely with a view to the purposes of battle, and
was therefore not a very suitable place for a bride.

Berengaria and Joanna landed very soon after Richard. Philip was a
little piqued at the suddenness with which Richard had married another
lady, so soon after the engagement with Alice had been terminated; but
he considered how urgent the necessity was that he should now be on
good terms with his ally, and so he concealed his feelings, and
received Berengaria himself as she came from her ship, and assisted
her to land.




CHAPTER XIII.

DIFFICULTIES.

1191

Richard's arrogance produces dissension in the camp.--The
progress of the quarrel between Richard and Philip.--The English
and French armies no longer co-operate.--Preparations for an
assault.--A repulse.--Reflections.--Dangers of the army.--A
nominal friendship between real enemies.


It was but a very short time after Richard had landed his forces at
Acre, and had taken his position in the camp on the plain before the
city, before serious difficulties began to arise between him and
Philip. This, indeed, might have been easily foreseen. It was
perfectly certain that, so soon as Richard should enter the camp of
the Crusaders, he would immediately assume such airs of superiority,
and attempt to lord it over all the other kings and princes there in
so reckless and dictatorial a manner, that there could be no peace
with him except in entire submission to his will.

This was, accordingly, soon found to be the case. He began to quarrel
with Philip in a very short time, notwithstanding the sincere desire
that Philip manifested to live on good terms with him. Of course, the
knights and barons, and, after a time, the common soldiers in the two
armies, took sides with their respective sovereigns. One great source
of trouble was, that Richard claimed to be the feudal sovereign of
Philip himself, on account of some old claims that he advanced, as
Duke of Normandy, over the French kingdom. This pretension Philip, of
course, would not admit, and the question gave rise to endless
disputes and heartburnings.

Presently the quarrel extended to other portions of the army of the
Crusaders, and the different orders of knights and bodies of soldiers
espoused, some one side and some the other. The Knights Hospitalers,
described in a former chapter, who had now become a numerous and very
powerful force, took Richard's side. Indeed, Richard was personally
popular among the knights and barons generally, on account of his
prodigious strength and the many feats of reckless daring that he
performed. When he went out every body flocked to see him, and the
whole camp was full of the stories that were told of his wonderful
exploits. He made use of the distinction which he thus acquired as a
means of overshadowing Philip's influence and position. This Philip,
of course, resented, and then the English said that he was envious of
Richard's superiority; and they attempted to lay the whole blame of
the quarrel on him, attributing the unfriendly feeling simply to what
they considered his weak and ungenerous jealousy of a more successful
and fortunate rival.

However this may be, the disagreement soon became so great that the
two kings could no longer co-operate together in fighting against
their common enemy.

Philip planned an assault against the town. He was going to take it by
storm. Richard did not join him in this attempt. He made it an excuse
that he was sick at the time. Indeed, he was sick not long after his
arrival at Acre, but whether his illness really prevented his
co-operating with Philip in the assault, or was only made use of as a
pretext, is not quite certain. At any rate, Richard left Philip to
make the assault alone, and the consequence was that the French troops
were driven back from the walls with great loss. Richard secretly
rejoiced at this discomfiture, but Philip was in a great rage.

Not long afterward Richard planned an assault, to be executed with
_his_ troops alone; for Philip now stood aloof, and refused to aid
him. Richard had no objection to this; indeed, he rejoiced in an
opportunity to show the world that he could succeed in accomplishing a
feat of arms after Philip had attempted it and failed.

[Illustration: THE ASSAULT.]

So he brought forward the engines that he had caused to be built at
Messina, and set them up. He organized his assaulting columns and
prepared for the attack. He made the scaling-ladders ready, and
provided his men with great stores of ammunition; and when the
appointed day at length arrived, he led his men on to the assault,
fully confident that he was about to perform an exploit that would
fill all Europe with his fame.

But, unfortunately for him, he was doomed to disappointment. His men
were driven back from the walls. The engines were overthrown and
broken to pieces, or set on fire by flaming javelins sent from the
walls, and burned to the ground. Vast numbers of his soldiers were
killed, and at length, all hope of success having disappeared, the
troops were drawn off, discomfited and excessively chagrined.

The reflections which would naturally follow in the minds of Philip
and Richard, as they sat in their tents moodily pondering on these
failures, led them to think that it would be better for them to cease
quarreling with each other, and to combine their strength against the
common enemy. Indeed, their situation was now fast becoming very
critical, inasmuch as every day during which the capture of the town
was delayed the troops of Saladin on the mountains around them were
gradually increasing in numbers, and gaining in the strength of their
position, and they might at any time now be expected to come pouring
down upon the plain in such force as entirely to overwhelm the whole
army of the Crusaders.

So Richard and Philip made an agreement with each other that they
would thenceforth live together on better terms, and endeavor to
combine their strength against the common enemy, instead of wasting it
in petty quarrels with each other.

From this time things went on much better in the camp of the allies,
while yet there was no real or cordial friendship between Richard and
Philip, or any of their respective partisans. Richard attempted
secretly to entice away knights and soldiers from Philip's service by
offering them more money or better rewards than Philip paid them, and
Philip, when he discovered this, attempted to retaliate by endeavoring
to buy off, in the same manner, some of Richard's men. In a word, the
fires of the feud, though covered up and hidden, were burning away
underneath as fiercely as ever.




CHAPTER XIV.

THE FALL OF ACRE.

1191

The distress of the besieged city.--Famine.--Disappointed
hopes.--The various methods of warfare.--Undermining the
walls.--The effect on the walls.--A spy in the city.--The letters
which came on arrows.--A flag of truce.--Terms proposed by the
Saracens.--Richard's exactions and his threats.--The
convention.--Hostages.--The ransom of the captives.--Saladin's
assent.--Richard enters Acre in triumph.--The Archduke of
Austria's banner.--Philip in trouble.--Philip's secret
plans.--Title of King of Jerusalem.--Sibylla.--Guy of
Lusignan.--Isabella.--Conrad of Montferrat.--The positions of
Richard and Philip respecting the title.--One of Richard's
compromises.--Philip announces his return.--Richard's objections
to Philip's return.--Philip's oath to Richard.--Disapprobation of
King Philip's course.--Saladin is unable to fulfill his
promises.--Brutality of Richard.--The massacre of the Saracen
captives.--Richard's exultation.--Supernatural approval.


Although the allies failed to reduce Acre by assault, the town was at
last compelled to submit to them through the distress and misery to
which the inhabitants and the garrison were finally reduced by famine.
They bore these sufferings as long as they could, but the time arrived
at last when they could be endured no longer. They hoped for some
relief which was to have been sent to them by sea from Cairo, but it
did not come. They also hoped, day after day, and week after week,
that Saladin would be strong enough to come down from the mountains,
and break through the camp of the Crusaders on the plain and rescue
them. But they were disappointed. The Crusaders had fortified their
camp in the strongest manner, and then they were so numerous and so
fully armed that Saladin thought it useless to make any general attack
upon them with the force that he had under his command.

The siege had continued two years when Philip and Richard arrived.
They came early in the spring of 1191. Of course, their arrival
greatly strengthened the camp of the besiegers, and went far to
extinguish the remaining hopes of the garrison. The commanders,
however, did not immediately give up, but held out some months longer,
hoping every day for the arrival of the promised relief from Cairo. In
the mean time, they continued to endure a succession of the most
vigorous assaults from the Crusaders, of which very marvelous tales
are told in the romantic narratives of those times. In these
narratives we have accounts of the engines which Richard set up
opposite the walls, and of the efforts made by the besieged to set
them on fire; of Richard's working, himself, like any common soldier
in putting these engines together, and in extinguishing the flames
when they were set on fire; of a vast fire-proof shed which was at
last contrived to cover and protect the engines--the covering of the
roof being made fire-proof with green hides; and of a plan which was
finally adopted, when it was found that the walls could not be beaten
down by battering-rams, of undermining them with a view of making them
tumble down by their own weight. In this case, the workmen who
undermined the walls were protected at their work by sheds built over
them, and, in order to prevent the walls from falling upon them while
they were mining, they propped them up with great beams of wood, so
placed that they could make fires under the beams when they were ready
for the walls to fall, and then have time to retreat to a safe
distance before they should be burned through. This plan, however, did
not succeed; for the walls were so prodigiously thick, and the blocks
of stone of which they were composed were so firmly bound together,
that, instead of falling into a mass of ruins, as Richard had
expected, when the props had been burned through, they only settled
down bodily on one side into the excavation, and remained nearly as
good, for all purposes of defense, as ever.

It was said that during the siege Richard and Philip obtained a great
deal of information in respect to the plans of the Saracens through
the instrumentality of some secret friend within the city, who
contrived to find means of continually sending them important
intelligence. This intelligence related sometimes to the designs of
the garrison in respect to sorties that they were going to make, or to
the secret plans that they had formed for procuring supplies of
provisions or other succor; at other times they related to the
movements and designs of Saladin, who was outside among the mountains,
and especially to the attacks that he was contemplating on the allied
camp. This intelligence was communicated in various ways. The
principal method was to send a letter by means of an arrow. An arrow
frequently came down in some part of the allied camp, which, on being
examined, was found to have a letter wound about the shaft. The letter
was addressed to Richard, and was, of course, immediately carried to
his tent. It was always found to contain very important information in
respect to the condition or plans of the besieged. If a sortie was
intended from the city, it stated the time and the place, and detailed
all the arrangements, thus enabling Richard to be on his guard. So, if
the Saracens were projecting an attack on the lines from within, the
whole plan of it was fully explained, and, of course, it would then be
very easy for Richard to frustrate it. The writer of the letters said
that he was a Christian, but would not say who he was, and the mystery
was never explained. It is quite possible that there is very little
truth in the whole story.

At all events, though the assaults which the allies made against the
walls and bulwarks of the town were none of them wholly successful,
the general progress of the siege was altogether in their favor, and
against the poor Saracens shut up within it. The last hope which they
indulged was that some supplies would come to them by sea; but
Richard's fleet, which remained at anchor off the town, blockaded the
port so completely that there was no possibility that any thing could
get in. The last lingering hope was, therefore, at length abandoned,
and when the besieged found that they could endure their horrible
misery no longer, they sent a flag of truce out to the camp of the
besiegers, with a proposal to negotiate terms of surrender.

Then followed a long negotiation, with displays of haughty arrogance
on one side, and heart-broken and bitter humiliation on the other. The
Saracens first proposed what they considered fair and honorable terms,
and Philip was disposed to accept them; but Richard rejected them with
scorn. After a vain attempt at resistance, Philip was obliged to
yield, and to allow his imperious and overbearing ally to have his own
way. The Saracens wished to stipulate for the lives of the garrison,
but Richard refused. He told them they must submit unconditionally;
and, for his part, he did not care, he said, whether they yielded now
or continued the contest. He should soon be in possession of the city,
at any rate, and if they held out until he took it by storm, then, of
course, it would be given up to the unbridled fury of the soldiers,
who would mercilessly massacre every living thing they should find in
it, and seize every species of property as plunder. This, he declared,
was sure to be the end of the siege, and that very soon, unless they
chose to submit. The Saracens then asked what terms he required of
them. Richard stated his terms, and they asked for a little time to
consider them and to confer with Saladin, who, being the sultan, was
their sovereign, and without his approval they could not act.

So the negotiation was opened, and, after various difficulties and
delays, a convention was finally agreed upon. The terms were these:

     I. The city was to be surrendered to the allied armies, and
     all the arms, ammunition, military stores, and property of
     all kinds which it contained were to be forfeited to the
     conquerors.

     II. The troops and the people of the town were to be allowed
     to go free on the payment of a ransom.

     III. The ransom by which the besieged purchased their lives
     and liberty was to be made up as follows:

          1. The wood of the cross on which Christ was crucified,
          which was alleged to be in Saladin's possession, was to
          be restored.

          2. Saladin was to set at liberty the Christian captives
          which he had taken in the course of the war from various
          armies of Crusaders, and which he now held as prisoners.
          The number of these prisoners was about fifteen hundred.

          3. He was to pay two hundred thousand pieces of gold.

     IV. Richard was to retain a large body of men--it was said
     that there were about five thousand in all--consisting of
     soldiers of the garrison or inhabitants of the town, as
     hostages for the fulfillment of these conditions. These men
     were to be kept forty days, or, if at the end of that time
     Saladin had not fulfilled the conditions of the surrender,
     they were all to be put to death.

Perhaps Saladin agreed to these terms, under the pressure of dire
necessity, compelled as he was to assent to whatever Richard might
propose by the dreadful extremity to which the town was reduced,
without sufficiently considering whether he would be really able to
fulfill his promises. At any rate, these were the promises that he
made; and as soon as the treaty was duly executed, the gates of Acre
were opened to the conquerors, while Saladin himself broke up his
encampment on the mountains, and withdrew his troops farther into the
interior of the country.

Although the treaty was made and executed in the name of both the
kings, Richard had taken into his hands almost the whole conduct of
the negotiation, and now that the army was about to take possession of
the town, he considered himself the conqueror of it. He entered with
great parade, assigning to Philip altogether a secondary part in the
ceremony. He also took possession of the principal palace of the place
as his quarters, and there established himself with Berengaria and
Joanna, while he left Philip to take up his residence wherever he
could. The flags of both monarchs were, however, raised upon the
walls, and so far Philip's claim to a joint sovereignty over the
place was acknowledged. But none of the other princes or potentates
who had been engaged in the siege were allowed to share this honor.
One of them--the Archduke of Austria--ventured to raise his banner on
one of the towers, but Richard pulled it down, tore it to pieces, and
trampled it under his feet.

This, of course, threw the archduke into a dreadful rage, and most of
the other smaller princes in the army shared the indignation that he
felt at the grasping disposition which Richard manifested, and at his
violent and domineering behavior. But they were helpless. Richard was
stronger than they, and they were compelled to submit.

As for Philip, he had long since begun to find his situation extremely
disagreeable. He was very sensitive to the overbearing and arrogant
treatment which he received, but he either had not the force of
character or the physical strength to resist it. Now, since Acre had
fallen, he found his situation worse than ever. There was no longer
any enemy directly before them, and it was only the immediate presence
of an enemy that had thus far kept Richard within any sort of bounds.
Philip saw now plainly that if he were to remain in the Holy Land,
and attempt to continue the war, he could only do it by occupying an
altogether secondary and subordinate position, and to this he thought
it was wholly inconsistent with his rights and dignities as an
independent sovereign to descend; so he began to revolve secretly in
his mind how he could honorably withdraw from the expedition and
return home.

While things were in this state, a great quarrel, which had for a long
time been gradually growing up in the camp of the Crusaders, but had
been restrained and kept, in some degree, subdued by the excitement of
the siege, broke out in great violence. The question was who should
claim the title of King of Jerusalem. Jerusalem was at this time in
the hands of the Saracens, so that the title was, for the time being
at least, a mere empty name. Still, there was a very fierce contention
to decide who should possess it. It seems that it had originally
descended to a certain lady named Sibylla. It had come down to her as
the descendant and heir of a very celebrated crusader named Godfrey of
Bouillon, who was the first king of Jerusalem. He became King of
Jerusalem by having headed the army of Crusaders that first conquered
it from the Saracens. This was about a hundred years before the time
of the taking of Acre. The knights and generals of his army elected
him King of Jerusalem a short time after he had taken it, and the
title descended from him to Sibylla.

Sibylla was married to a famous knight named Guy of Lusignan, and he
claimed the title of King of Jerusalem in right of his wife. This
claim was acknowledged by the rest of the Crusaders so long as Sibylla
lived, but at length she died, and then many persons maintained that
the crown descended to her sister Isabella. Isabella was married to a
knight named Humphrey of Huron, who had not strength or resolution
enough to assert his claims. Indeed, he had the reputation of being a
weak and timid man. Accordingly, another knight, named Conrad of
Montferrat, conceived the idea of taking his place. He contrived to
seize and bear away the Lady Isabella, and afterward to procure a
divorce for her from her husband, and then, finally, he married her
himself. He now claimed to be King of Jerusalem in right of Isabella,
while Guy of Lusignan maintained that his right to the crown still
continued. This was a nice question to be settled by such a rude horde
of fighting men as these Crusaders were, and some took one side of it
and some the other, according as their various ideas on the subject of
rights of succession or their personal partialities inclined them.

Now it happened that Philip and Richard had early taken opposite sides
in respect to this affair, as indeed they did on almost every other
subject that came before them. Guy of Lusignan had gone to visit
Richard while he was in Cyprus, and there, having had the field all to
himself, had told his story in such a way, and also made such
proposals and promises, as to enlist Richard in his favor. Richard
there agreed that he would take Guy's part in the controversy, and he
furnished him with a sum of money at that time to relieve his
immediate necessities. He did this with a view of securing Guy, as one
of his partisans and adherents, in any future difficulties in which he
might be involved in the course of the campaign.

On the other hand, when Philip arrived at Acre, which it will be
recollected was some time before Richard came, the friends and
partisans of Conrad, who were there, at once proceeded to lay Conrad's
case before him, and they so far succeeded as to lead Philip to commit
himself on that side. Thus the foundation of a quarrel on this
subject was laid before Richard landed. The quarrel was kept down,
however, during the progress of the siege, but when at length the town
was taken it broke out anew, and the whole body of the Crusaders
became greatly agitated with it. At length some sort of compromise was
effected, or at least what was called a compromise, but really, so far
as the substantial interests involved were concerned, Richard had it
all his own way. This affair still further alienated Philip's mind
from his ally, and made him more desirous than ever to abandon the
enterprise and return home.

Accordingly, after the two kings had been established in Acre a short
time, Philip announced that he was sick, and unable any longer to
prosecute the war in person, and that he was intending to return home.
When this was announced to Richard, he exclaimed,

"Shame on him! eternal shame! and on all his kingdom, if he goes off
and abandons us now before the work is done."

The work which Richard meant to have done was the complete recovery of
the Holy Land from the possession of the Saracens. The taking of Acre
was a great step, but, after all, it was only a beginning. The army
of the allies was now to march into the interior of the country to
pursue Saladin, in hopes of conquering him in a general battle, and so
at length gaining possession of the whole country and recovering
Jerusalem. Richard, therefore, was very indignant with Philip for
being disposed to abandon the enterprise while the work to be
accomplished was only just begun.

There was another reason why Richard was alarmed at the idea of
Philip's returning home.

"He will take advantage of my absence," said he, "and invade my
dominions, and so, when I return, I shall find that I have been robbed
of half my provinces."

So Richard did all he could to dissuade Philip from returning; but at
length, finding that he could produce no impression on his mind, he
yielded, and gave a sort of surly consent to the arrangement. "Let him
go," said he, "if he will. Poor man! He is sick, he says, and I
suppose he thinks he can not live unless he can see Paris again."

Richard insisted, however, that if Philip went he should leave his
army behind, or, at least, a large portion of it; so Philip agreed to
leave ten thousand men. These men were to be under the command of the
Duke of Burgundy, one of Philip's most distinguished nobles. The duke,
however, himself was to be subject to the orders of Richard.

Richard also exacted of Philip a solemn oath, that when he had
returned to France he would not, in any way, molest or invade any of
his--that is, Richard's--possessions, or make war against any of his
vassals or allies. This agreement was to continue in force, and to be
binding upon Philip until forty days after Richard should have himself
returned from the Crusade.

These things being all thus arranged, Philip began to make his
preparations openly for embarking on his voyage home. The knights and
barons, and indeed the whole body of the army, considered Philip's
leaving them as a very culpable abandonment of the enterprise, and
they crowded around the place of embarkation when he went on board his
vessel, and manifested their displeasure with ill-suppressed hisses
and groans.

       *       *       *       *       *

The time which had been fixed upon for Saladin to comply with the
stipulations of the surrender was forty days, and this period was now,
after Philip had gone, drawing rapidly to a close. Saladin found that
he could not fulfill the conditions to which he had agreed. As the day
approached he made various excuses and apologies to Richard, and he
also sent him a number of costly presents, hoping, perhaps, in that
way to propitiate his favor, and prevent his insisting on the
execution of the dreadful penalty which had been agreed upon in case
of default, namely, the slaughter of the five thousand hostages which
had been left in his hands.

The time at last expired, and the treaty had not been fulfilled.
Richard, without waiting even a day, determined that the hostages
should be slain. A rumor was set in circulation that Saladin had put
to death all his Christian prisoners. This rumor was false, but it
served its purpose of exasperating the minds of the Crusaders, so as
to bring the soldiers up well to the necessary pitch of ferocity for
executing so terrible a work. The slaughter of five thousand
defenseless and unresisting men, in cold blood, is a very hard work
for even soldiers to perform, and if such a work is to be done, it is
always necessary to contrive some means of heating the blood of the
executioners in order to insure the accomplishment of it. In this
case, the rumor that Saladin had murdered his Christian prisoners was
more than sufficient. It wrought up the allied army to such a phrensy
that the soldiers assembled in crowds, and riotously demanded that the
Saracen prisoners should be given up to them, in order that they might
have their revenge.

Accordingly, at the appointed time, Richard gave the command, and the
whole body of the prisoners were brought out, and conducted to the
plain beyond the lines of the encampment. A few were reserved. These
were persons of rank and consideration, who were to be saved in hopes
that they might have wealthy friends at home who would pay money to
ransom them. The rest were divided into two portions, one of which was
committed to the charge of the Duke of Burgundy, and the other Richard
led himself. The dreadful processions formed by these wretched men
were followed by the excited soldiery that were to act as their
executioners, who came crowding on in throngs, waving their swords,
and filling the air with their ferocious threats and imprecations, and
exulting in the prospect of having absolutely their fill of the
pleasure of killing men, without any danger to themselves to mar the
enjoyment of it.

The massacre was carried into effect in the fullest possible manner;
and after the men were killed, the Christians occupied themselves in
cutting open their bodies to find jewels and other articles of value,
which they pretended that the poor captives had swallowed in order to
hide them from their enemies.

Instead of being ashamed of this deed, Richard gloried in it. He
considered it a wonderful proof of his zeal for the cause of Christ.
The writers of the time praised it. The Saracens, they maintained,
were the enemies of God, and whoever slew them did God service. One of
the historians of the time says that angels from heaven appeared to
Richard at the time, and urged him to persevere to the end, crying
aloud to him while the massacre was going on, "Kill! kill! Spare them
not!"

It seems to us at the present day most amazing that the minds of men
could possibly be so perverted as to think that in performing such
deeds as this they were sustaining the cause of the meek and gentle
Jesus of Nazareth, and were the objects of approval and favor with
God, the common father of us all, who has declared that he has made of
one blood all the nations of the earth, to live together in peace and
unity.




CHAPTER XV.

PROGRESS OF THE CRUSADE.

1191

Richard leaving Acre.--Modern warfare.--Contrast between modern
and ancient weapons.--Purifying the places of pagan
worship.--Revelings of the soldiery.--The object of the Crusades
was the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre.--Order of the march from
Acre.--Jaffa.--Trumpeters.--The evening proclamation in
camp.--The slow march.--Saladin's harassing movements.--The plain
of Azotus.--The order of battle.--The charge of Richard's
troops.--To retreat is to be defeated.--Saladin, defeated,
retires.--Richard at Jaffa again.--Sickness in the army.--Excuses
for delaying the march.--Lingering at Jaffa.--The judgment of
historians.--Richard's incursions from Jaffa.--Reconnoitring and
foraging.--Richard's predatory excursions.--Sir William's
stratagem.--Sir William's ransom.--Incident of the Knights
Templars.--Richard's feats of prowess among the Saracens.--The
Troubadours.--Negotiations for peace.--Saphadin.--A marriage
proposed.--King Richard offered his sister in marriage to
Saphadin.


The first thing which Richard had now to do, before commencing a march
into the interior of the country, was to set every thing in order at
Acre, and to put the place in a good condition of defense, in case it
should be attacked while he was gone. The walls in many places were to
be repaired, particularly where they had been undermined by Richard's
sappers, and in many places, too, they had been broken down or greatly
damaged by the action of the battering-rams and other engines. In the
case of sieges prosecuted by means of artillery in modern times, the
whole interior of the town, as well as the walls, is usually battered
dreadfully by the shot and shells that are thrown over into it. A
shell, which is a hollow ball of iron sometimes more than a foot in
diameter, and with sides two or three inches thick, and filled within
with gunpowder, is thrown from a mortar, at a distance of some miles,
high into the air over the town, whence it descends into the streets
or among the houses. The engraving represents the form of the mortar,
and the manner in which the shell is thrown from it, though in this
case the shell represented is directed, not against the town, but is
thrown from a battery under the walls of the town against the camp or
the trenches of the besiegers.

[Illustration: THROWING SHELLS.]

These shells, of course, when they descend, come crashing through the
roofs of the buildings on which they strike, or bury themselves in the
ground if they fall in the street, and then burst with a terrific
explosion. A town that has been bombarded in a siege becomes sometimes
almost a mere mass of ruins. Often the bursting of a shell sets a
building on fire, and then the dreadful effects of a conflagration are
added to the horrors of the scene. In ancient sieges, on the other
hand, none of these terrible agencies could be employed. The
battering-rams could touch nothing but the walls and the outer towers,
and it was comparatively very little injury that they could do to
these. The javelins and arrows, and other light missiles--even those
that were thrown from the military engines, if by chance they passed
over the walls and entered the town, could do no serious mischief to
the buildings there. The worst that could happen from them was the
wounding or killing of some person in the streets who might, just at
that moment, be passing by.

In repairing Acre, therefore, and putting it again in a perfect
condition for defense, nothing but the outer walls required attention.
Richard set companies of workmen upon these, and before long every
thing was restored as it was before. There were then some ceremonies
to be performed within the town, to purify it from the pollution which
it had sustained by having been in the possession of the Saracens. All
the Christian churches particularly, and the monasteries and other
religious houses, were to be thus restored from the desecration which
they had undergone, and consecrated anew to the service of Christ.

In the mean time, while these works and performances were going on,
the soldiers gave themselves up to indulgences of every kind. Great
stores of wine were found in the place, which were bestowed upon the
troops, and the streets, day and night, were filled with riotous
revelings. The commanders themselves--the knights and barons--and all
the other men of rank that pertained to the army, fell into the same
way, and they were very unwilling that the time should come when they
were to leave such a place of security and indulgence, and take the
field again for a march in pursuit of Saladin.

At length, however, the time arrived when the march must be commenced.
Richard had learned, by means of scouts and spies which he sent out,
that Saladin was moving to the southward and westward--retreating, in
fact, toward Jerusalem, which was, of course, the great point that he
wished to defend. That, indeed, was the great point of attack, for the
main object which the Crusaders proposed to themselves in invading
Palestine was to get possession of the sepulchre where Christ was
buried at Jerusalem. The recovery of the Holy Sepulchre was the
watchword; and among all the people who were watching the progress of
the enterprise with so much solicitude, and also among the Crusaders
themselves, the progress that was made was valued just in proportion
as it tended to the accomplishment of this end.

Richard set apart a sufficient number of troops for a garrison to hold
and defend Acre, and then, on taking a census of the remainder of his
force, found that he had thirty thousand men to march with in pursuit
of Saladin. He arranged this force in five divisions, and placed each
under the command of a competent general. There were two very
celebrated bodies of knights that occupied positions of honor in this
march. They were the Knights Templars and the Knights of St. John, or
Hospitalers, the order that has been described in a previous chapter
of this volume. The Templars led the van of the army, and the
Hospitalers brought up the rear. The march was commenced on the
twenty-second of August, which was not far from two months from the
time that Acre was surrendered.

The course which the army was to take was at first to follow the
sea-shore toward the southward to Jaffa, a port nearly opposite to
Jerusalem. It was deemed necessary to take possession of Jaffa before
going into the interior; and, besides, by moving on along the coast,
the ships and galleys containing the stores for the army could
accompany them, and supply them abundantly, from time to time, as they
might require. By this course, too, they would be drawing nearer to
Jerusalem, though not directly approaching it.

The arrangements connected with the march of the army were conducted
with great ceremony and parade. The knights wore their costly armor,
and were mounted on horses splendidly equipped and caparisoned. In
many cases the horses themselves were protected, like the riders, with
an armor of steel. The columns were preceded by trumpeters, who
awakened innumerable echoes from the mountains, and from the cliffs of
the shore, with their animating and exciting music, and innumerable
flags and banners, with the most gorgeous decorations, were waving in
the air. When the expedition halted at night, heralds passed through
the several camps to the sound of trumpets, and pausing at each one,
and giving a signal, all the soldiers in the camp kneeled down upon
the ground, when the heralds proclaimed in a loud voice three times,
GOD SAVE THE HOLY SEPULCHRE, and all the soldiers said Amen.

The march was commenced on the twenty-second of August, and it was
about sixty miles from Acre to Jaffa. Of course, an army of thirty
thousand men must move very slowly. There is so much time consumed in
breaking up the encampment in the morning, and in forming it again at
night, and in giving such a mighty host their rest and food in the
middle of the day, and the men, moreover, are so loaded with the arms
and ammunition, and with the necessary supplies of food and clothing
which they have to carry, that only a very slow progress can be made.
In this case, too, the march was harassed by Saladin, who hovered on
the flank of the Crusaders, and followed them all the way, sending
down small parties from the mountains to attack and cut off
stragglers, and threatening the column at every exposed point, so as
to keep them continually on the alert. The necessity of being always
ready to form in order of battle to meet the enemy, should he suddenly
come upon them, restricted them very much in their motions, and made a
great deal of manoeuvring necessary, which, of course, greatly
increased the fatigue of the soldiers, and very much diminished the
speed of their progress.

Richard wished much to bring on a general battle, being confident that
he should conquer if he could engage in it on equal terms. But Saladin
would not give him an opportunity. He kept the main body of his troops
sheltered among the mountains, and only advanced slowly, parallel with
the coast, where he could watch and harass the movements of his
enemies without coming into any general conflict with them.

This state of things continued for about three weeks, and then at
last Richard reached Jaffa. The two armies manoeuvred for some time
in the vicinity of the town, and, finally, they concentrated their
forces in the neighborhood of a plain near the sea-shore, at a place
called Azotus, which was some miles beyond Jaffa. Saladin had by this
time strengthened himself so much that he was ready for battle. He
accordingly marched on to the attack. He directed his assault, in the
first instance, on the wing of Richard's army which was formed of the
French troops that were under the command of the Duke of Burgundy.
They resisted them successfully and drove them back. Richard watched
the operation, but for a time took no part in it, except to make
feigned advances, from time to time, to threaten the enemy, and to
harass them by compelling them to perform numerous fatiguing
evolutions. His soldiers, and especially the knights and barons in his
army, were very impatient at his delaying so long to take an active
and an efficient part in the contest. But at last, when he found that
the Saracen troops were wearied, and were beginning to be thrown in a
little confusion, he gave the signal for a charge, and rode forward at
the head of the troop, mounted on his famous charger, and flourishing
his heavy battle-axe in the air.

The onset was terrible. Richard inspirited his whole troop by his
reckless and headlong bravery, and by the terrible energy with which
he gave himself to the work of slaughtering all who came in his way.
The darts and javelins that were shot by the enemy glanced off from
him without inflicting any wound, being turned aside by the steel
armor that he wore, while every person that came near enough to him to
strike him with any other weapon was felled at once to the ground by a
blow from the ponderous battle-axe. The example which Richard thus set
was followed by his men, and in a short time the Saracens began every
where to give way. When, in the case of such a combat, one side begins
to yield, it is all over with them. When they turn to retreat, they,
of course, become at once defenseless, and the pursuers press on upon
them, killing them without mercy and at their pleasure, and with very
little danger of being killed themselves. A man can fight very well
while he is pursuing, but scarcely at all when he is pursued.

It was not long before Saladin's army was flying in all directions,
the Crusaders pressing on upon them every where in their confusion,
and cutting them down mercilessly in great numbers. The slaughter was
immense. About seven thousand of the Saracen troops were slain. Among
them were thirty-two of Saladin's highest and best officers. As soon
as the Saracens escaped the immediate danger, when the Crusaders had
given over the pursuit, they rallied, and Saladin formed them again
into something like order. He then commenced a regular and formal
retreat into the interior. He first, however, sent detachments to all
the country around to dismantle the towns, to destroy all stores of
provisions, and to seize and carry away every thing of value that
could be of any use to the conquerors. A broad extent of country,
through which Richard would have to march in advancing toward
Jerusalem, being thus laid waste, the Saracens withdrew farther into
the interior, and there Saladin set himself at work to reorganize his
broken army once more, and to prepare for new plans of resistance to
the invaders.

Richard withdrew with his army to Jaffa, and, taking possession of the
town, he established himself there.

It was now September. The season of the year was hot and unhealthy;
and though the allied army had thus far been victorious, still there
was a great deal of sickness in the camp, and the soldiers were much
exhausted by the fatigue which they had endured, and by their exposure
to the sun. Richard was desirous, notwithstanding this, to take the
field again, and advance into the interior, so as to follow up the
victory which had been gained over Saladin at Azotus; but his
officers, especially those of the French division of the army, under
the command of the Duke of Burgundy, thought it not safe to move
forward so soon. "It would be better to remain a short time in Jaffa,"
they said, "to recruit the army, and to prepare for advancing in a
more sure and efficient manner.

"Besides," said they, "we need Jaffa for a military post, and it will
be best to remain here until we shall have repaired the
fortifications, and put the place in a good condition of defense."

But this was only an excuse. What the army really desired was to enjoy
repose for a time. They found it much more agreeable to live in ease
and indulgence within the walls of a town than to march in the hot sun
across so arid a country, loaded down as they were with heavy armor,
and kept constantly in a state of anxious and watchful suspense by the
danger of sudden attacks from the enemy.

Richard acceded to the wishes of the officers, and decided to remain
for a time in Jaffa. But they, instead of devoting themselves
energetically to making good again the fortifications of the town,
went very languidly to the work. They allowed themselves and the men
to spend their time in inaction and indulgence. In the mean time,
Saladin had gathered his forces together again, and was drawing fresh
recruits every day to his standard from the interior of the country.
He was preparing for more vigorous resistance than ever. Richard has
been strongly condemned for thus remaining inactive in Jaffa after the
battle of Azotus. Historians, narrating the account of his campaign,
say that he ought to have marched at once toward Jerusalem before
Saladin should have had time to organize any new means of resistance.
But it is impossible for those who are at a distance from the scene of
action in such a case, and who have only that partial and imperfect
account of the facts which can be obtained through the testimony of
others, to form any reliable judgment on such a question. Whether it
would be prudent or imprudent for a commander to advance after a
battle can be known, in general, only to those who are on the ground,
and who have personal knowledge of all the circumstances of the case.

While Richard remained in Jaffa, he made frequent excursions into the
surrounding territory at the head of a small troop of adventurous men
who liked to accompany him. Other small detachments were often sent
out. These parties went sometimes to collect forage, and sometimes to
reconnoitre the country with a view of ascertaining Saladin's position
and plans. Richard took great delight in these excursions, nor were
they attended with any great danger. At the present day, going out on
reconnoitring parties is very dangerous service indeed, for men wear
no armor, and they are liable at any moment to be cut down by a Miniè
rifle-ball, fired from an unseen hand a mile away. In those days the
case was very different. There were no missiles that could be thrown
for a greater distance than a few yards, and for all such the heavy
steel armor that the knights wore furnished, in general, an ample
protection. The only serious danger to be feared was that of coming
unwarily upon a superior party of the enemy lying in ambush to entrap
the reconnoitrers, and in being surrounded by them. But Richard had so
much confidence in the power of his horse and in his own prodigious
personal strength that he had very little fear. So he scoured the
country in every direction, at the head of a small attendant squadron,
whenever he pleased, considering such an excursion in the light of
nothing more than an exciting morning ride.

Of course, after going out many times on such excursions and coming
back safely, men gradually become less cautious, and expose themselves
to greater and greater risks. It was so with Richard and his troop,
and several times they ventured so far as to put themselves in very
serious peril. Indeed, Richard once or twice very narrowly escaped
being taken prisoner. At one time he was saved by the generosity of
one of his knights, named Sir William. The king and his party were
surprised by a large party of Saracens, and nearly surrounded. For a
moment it was uncertain whether they would be able to effect their
retreat. In the midst of the fray, Sir William called out that he was
the king, and this so far divided the attention of the party as to
confuse them somewhat, and break the force and concentration of their
attack, and thus Richard succeeded in making his escape. Sir William,
however, was taken prisoner and carried to Saladin, but he was
immediately liberated by Richard's paying the ransom that Saladin
demanded for him.

At another time word came to him suddenly in the town that a troop of
Knights Templars were attacked and nearly surrounded by Saracens, and
that, unless they had help immediately, they would be all cut off.
Richard immediately seized his armor and began to put it on, and at
the same time he ordered one of his earls to mount his horse and hurry
out to the rescue of the Templars with all the horsemen that were
ready, saying also that he would follow himself, with more men, as
soon as he could put his armor on. Now the armoring of a knight for
battle in the Middle Ages was as long an operation as it is at the
present day for a lady to dress for a ball. The several pieces of
which the armor was composed were so heavy, and so complicated,
moreover, in their fastenings, that they could only be put on by means
of much aid from assistants. While Richard was in the midst of the
process, another messenger came, saying that the danger of the
Templars was imminent.

"Then I must go," said Richard, "as I am. I should be unworthy of the
name of king if I were to abandon those whom I have promised to stand
by and succor in every danger."

So he leaped upon his horse and rode on alone. On arriving at the
spot, he plunged into the thickest of the fight, and there he fought
so furiously, and made such havoc among the Saracens with his
battle-axe, that they fell back, and the Templars, and also the party
that had gone out with the earl, were rescued, and made good their
retreat to the town, leaving only on the field those who had fallen
before Richard arrived.

Many such adventures as this are recorded in the old histories of this
campaign, and they were made the subjects of a great number of songs
and ballads, written and sung by the Troubadours in those days in
honor of the valiant deeds of the Crusaders.

The armies remained in Jaffa through the whole of the month of
September. During this time a sort of negotiation was opened between
Richard and Saladin, with a view to agreeing, if possible, upon some
terms of peace. The object, on the part of Saladin, in these
negotiations, was probably delay, for the longer he could continue to
keep Richard in Jaffa, the stronger he would himself become, and the
more able to resist Richard's intended march to Jerusalem. Richard
consented to open these negotiations, not knowing but that some terms
might possibly be agreed upon by which Saladin would consent to
restore Jerusalem to the Christians, and thus end the war.

The messenger whom Saladin employed in these negotiations was
Saphadin, his brother. Saphadin, being provided with a safe-conduct
for this purpose, passed back and forth between Jaffa and Saladin's
camp, carrying the propositions and counter-propositions to and fro.
Saphadin was a very courteous and gentlemanly man, and also a very
brave soldier, and Richard formed quite a strong friendship for him.

A number of different plans were proposed in the course of the
negotiation, but there seemed to arise insuperable objections against
them all. At one time, either at this period or subsequently, when
Richard returned again to the coast, a project was formed to settle
the dispute, as quarrels and wars were often settled in those days, by
a marriage. The plan was for Saladin and Richard to cease their
hostility to each other, and become friends and allies; the
consideration for terminating the war being, on Richard's side, that
he would give his sister Joanna, the ex-queen of Sicily, in marriage
to Saphadin; and that Saladin, on his part, should relinquish
Jerusalem to Richard. Whether it was that Joanna would not consent to
be thus conveyed in a bargain to an Arab chieftain as a part of a
price paid for a peace, or whether Saladin did not consider her
majesty as a full equivalent for the surrender of Jerusalem, the plan
fell through like all the others that had been proposed, and at length
the negotiations were fully abandoned, and Richard began again to
prepare for taking the field.




CHAPTER XVI.

REVERSES.

1191

Feuds in the Christian army.--The march in November.--The
army weakened by disease, mutiny, and desertion.--The return
to Ascalon.--Rebuilding the fortifications.--Saladin presses
upon the retiring army.--Skirmishing.--Contrivances of the
enemy to harass the army.--Difficulties which the king met
with in repairing Ascalon.--The troops unwilling to
labor.--Resentment of Leopold.--The present which Richard
made to Berengaria.--Intercession of Leopold.--Richard's
exasperation.--Richard expels Leopold from Ascalon.--The
work goes on.--Waiting for re-enforcements.--The Abbot of
Clairvaux.--The truce.--Courtesy of enemies when not at
contest.--Presents.--Saladin's present to Richard.--The Christian
army discouraged.--King Richard uneasy respecting the state
of England.--Selfishness, not generosity, was the secret
motive.--Saladin's reason for retaining Jerusalem.--A political
marriage.--The compromise was opposed by the priests.--The
scheme of joint occupancy of Jerusalem abandoned.


By this time very serious dissensions and difficulties had arisen in
the army of the Crusaders. There were a great many chieftains who felt
very independent of each other, and feuds and quarrels of long
standing broke out anew, and with more violence than ever. There were
many different opinions, too, in respect to the course which it was
now best to pursue. Richard, however, contrived yet to maintain some
sort of authority, and he finally decided to commence his march from
Jaffa.

It was now November. The fall rains began to set in. The distance to
Jerusalem was but about thirty-two miles. The army advanced to Ramula,
which is about fifteen miles from Jaffa, but they endured very great
hardships and sufferings from the extreme inclemency of the season.
The soldiers were wet to the skin by drenching rains. Their provisions
were soaked and spoiled, and their armor was rusted, and much of it
rendered useless. When they attempted to pitch their tents at night
at Ramula, the wind tore them from their fastenings, and blew the
canvas away, so as to deprive them of shelter.

Of course, these disasters increased the discontent in the army, and,
by making the men impatient and ill-natured, increased the bitterness
of their quarrels. The army finally advanced, however, as far as
Bethany, with a forlorn hope of being strong enough, when they should
arrive there, to attack Jerusalem; but this hope, when the time came,
Richard was obliged to abandon. The rain and exposure had brought a
great deal of disease into the camp. The men were dying in great
numbers. This mortality was increased by famine, for the stores which
the army had brought with them were spoiled by the rain, and Saladin
had so laid waste the country that no fresh supplies could be
obtained. Then, in addition to this, the soldiers, finding their
sufferings intolerable, and seeing no hope of relief, began to desert
in great numbers, and Richard finally found that there was no
alternative for him but to fall back again to the sea-shore.

Instead of going to Jaffa, however, he proceeded to Ascalon. Ascalon
was a larger and stronger city than Jaffa. At least it had been
stronger, and its fortifications were more extensive, though the place
had been dismantled by Saladin before he left the coast. This town, as
you will see by the map, is situated toward the southern part of
Palestine, near to the confines of Egypt, and it had been a place of
importance as a sort of entrepôt of commerce between Egypt and the
Holy Land. Richard began to think that it would be necessary for him
to establish his army somewhat permanently in the strong places on the
coast, and wait until he could obtain re-enforcements from Europe
before attempting again to advance toward Jerusalem. He thought it
important, therefore, to take possession of Ascalon, and thus--Acre
and Jaffa being already strongly garrisoned--the whole coast would be
secure under his control.

Accordingly, on his retreat from Jerusalem, he proceeded with a large
portion of his army to Ascalon, and immediately commenced the work of
repairing the walls and rebuilding the towers, not knowing how soon
Saladin might be upon him.

Indeed, Saladin and his troops had followed Richard's army on their
retreat from Bethany, and had pressed them very closely all the way.
It was at one time quite doubtful whether they would succeed in making
good their retreat to Ascalon. The Saracen horsemen hovered in great
numbers on the rear of Richard's army, and made incessant skirmishing
attacks upon them. Richard placed a strong body of the Knights of St.
John there to keep them off. These knights were well armed, and they
were brave and well-trained warriors. They beat back the Saracens
whenever they came near. Still, many of the knights were killed, and
straggling parties, from time to time, were cut off, and the whole
army was kept in a constant state of suspense and excitement, during
the whole march, by the continual danger of an attack. When, at
length, they approached the sea-shore, and turned to the south on the
way to Ascalon, they were a little more safe, for the sea defended
them on one side. Still, the Saracens turned with them, and hovered
about their left flank, which was the one that was turned toward the
land, and harassed the march all the way. The progress of the troops
was greatly retarded too, as well as made more fatiguing, by the
presence of such an enemy; for they were not only obliged to move more
slowly when they were advancing, but they could only halt at night in
places which were naturally strong and easily to be defended, for fear
of an assault upon their encampment in the night. During the night,
too, notwithstanding all the precautions they could take to secure a
strong and safe position, the men were continually roused from their
slumbers by an alarm that the Saracens were coming upon them, when
they would rush from their tents, and seize their arms, and prepare
for a combat; and then, after a time, they would learn that the
expected attack was only a feint made by a small body of the enemy
just to harass them.

It might seem, at first view, that such a warfare as this would weary
and exhaust the pursuers as much as the pursued, but in reality it is
not so. In the case of a night alarm, for instance, the whole camp of
the Crusaders would be aroused from their sleep by it, and kept in a
state of suspense for an hour or more before the truth could be fully
ascertained, while to give the alarm would require only a very small
party from the army of the Saracens, the main body retiring as usual
to sleep, and sleeping all night undisturbed.

At length Richard reached Ascalon in safety, and posted himself
within the walls, while Saladin established his camp at a safe
distance in the interior of the country. Of course, the first thing
which he found was to be done, as has already been remarked, was to
repair and strengthen the walls, and it was evident that no time was
to be lost in accomplishing this work.

But, unfortunately, the character of the materials of which Richard's
army was composed was not such as to favor any special efficiency in
conducting an engineering operation. All the knights, and a large
proportion of the common soldiers, deemed themselves gentlemen. They
had volunteered to join the crusade from high and romantic notions of
chivalry and religion. They were perfectly ready, at any time, to
fight the Saracens, and to kill or be killed, whichever fate the
fortune of war might assign them; but to bear burdens, to mix mortar,
and to build walls, were occupations far beneath them; and the only
way to induce them to take hold of this work seems to have been for
the knights and officers to set them the example.

Thus, in repairing the walls of Acre, all the highest officers of the
army, with Richard himself at the head of them, took hold of the work
with their own hands, and built away on the walls and towers like so
many masons. Of course, the body of the soldiery had no excuse for
declining the work, when even the king did not consider himself
demeaned by it, and the whole army joined in making the reparations
with great zeal.

But such kind of zeal as this is not often very enduring. The men had
accomplished this work very well at Acre, but now, in undertaking a
second operation of the kind, their ardor was found to be somewhat
subsided. Besides, they were discouraged and disheartened in some
degree by the results of the fruitless campaign they had made into the
interior, and worn down by the fatigues they had endured on their
march. Still, the knights and nobles generally followed Richard's
example, and worked upon the walls to encourage the soldiery. One,
however, absolutely refused; this was Leopold, the Archduke of
Austria, whose flag Richard had pulled down from one of the towers in
Acre, and trampled upon as it lay on the ground. The archduke had
never forgiven this insult.

Indeed, this rudeness on the part of Richard was not a solitary
instance of his enmity. It was only a new step taken in an old
quarrel. Richard and the duke had been on very ill terms before. The
reader will perhaps recollect that when Richard was at Cyprus he made
captive a young princess, the daughter of the king, and that he made a
present of her, as a handmaid and companion, to Queen Berengaria.
Berengaria and Joanna, when they left Cyprus, brought the young
princess with them, and when they were established with the king in
the palace at Acre, she remained with them. She was treated kindly, it
is true, and was made a member of the family, but still she was a
prisoner. Such captives were greatly prized in those days as presents
for ladies of high rank, who kept them as pets, just as they would, at
the present day, a beautiful Canary bird or a favorite pony. They
often made intimate and familiar companions of them, and dressed them
with great elegance, and surrounded them with every luxury. Still,
notwithstanding this gilding of their chains, the poor captives
usually pined away their lives in sorrow, mourning continually to be
restored to their father and mother, and to their own proper home.

Now it happened that the Archduke of Austria was a relative, by
marriage, of the King of Cyprus, and the princess was his niece;
consequently, when she arrived at the camp before Acre as a captive
in the hands of the queen, as might naturally have been expected, he
took a great interest in her case. He wished to have her released and
restored to her father, and he interceded with Richard in her behalf.
But Richard would not release her. He was not willing to take her away
from Berengaria. The archduke was angry with the king for this
refusal, and a quarrel ensued; and it was partly in consequence of
this quarrel, or, rather, of the exasperation of mind that was
produced by it, that Richard would not allow the archduke's banner to
float from the towers of Acre when the city fell into their hands.

The archduke felt very keenly the indignity which Richard thus offered
him, and though at the time he had no power to revenge it, he
remembered it, and remained long in a gloomy and resentful frame of
mind. And now, while Richard was endeavoring to encourage and
stimulate the soldiers to work on the walls, by inducing the knights
and barons to join him in setting the example, Leopold refused. He
said that he was neither the son of a carpenter nor of a mason, that
he should go to work like a laborer to build walls. Richard was
enraged at this answer, and, as the story goes, flew at Leopold in
his passion, and struck and kicked him. He also immediately turned the
archduke and all his vassals out of the town, declaring that they
should not share the protection of walls that they would not help to
build; so they were obliged to encamp without, in company with that
portion of the army that could not be accommodated within the walls.

But, notwithstanding the bad example set thus by the archduke, far the
greater portion of the knights, and barons, and high officers of the
army joined very heartily in the work of building the walls. Even the
bishops, and abbots, and other monks, as well as the military nobles,
took hold of the work with great zeal, and the repairs went on much
more rapidly than could have been expected. During all this time the
army kept their communications open with the other towns along the
coast--with Jaffa, and Acre, and other strongholds, so that at length
the whole shore was well fortified, and secure in their possession.

Saladin, during all this time, had distributed his troops in various
encampments along the line parallel with the coast, and at some
distance from it, and for some weeks the two armies remained, in a
great degree, quiet in their several positions. The Crusaders were
too much diminished in numbers by the privations and the sickness
which they had undergone, as well as by the losses they had suffered
in battle, and too much weakened by their internal dissensions, to go
out of their strongholds to attack Saladin, while, on the other hand,
they were too well protected by the walls of the towns to which they
had retreated for Saladin to attack them. Both sides were waiting for
re-enforcements. Saladin was indeed continually receiving accessions
to his army from the interior, and Richard was expecting them from
Europe. He sent to a distinguished ecclesiastic, named the Abbot of
Clairvaux, who had a high reputation in Europe, and enjoyed great
influence at many of the principal courts. In his letter to the abbot,
he requested him to visit the different courts, and urge upon the
princes and the people of the different countries the necessity that
they should come to the rescue of the Christian cause in the Holy
Land. Unless they were willing, he said, that all hope of regaining
possession of the Holy Land should be abandoned, they must come with
large re-enforcements, and that, too, without any delay.

During the period of delay occasioned by these circumstances, there
was a sort of truce established between the two armies, and the
knights on each side mingled together frequently on very friendly
terms. Indeed, it was the pride and glory of soldiers in this
chivalrous age to treat each other, when not in actual conflict, in a
very polite and courteous manner, as if they were not animated by any
personal resentment against their enemies, but only by a spirit of
fidelity to the prince who commanded them, or to the cause in which
they were engaged. Accordingly, when, for any reason, the war was for
a time suspended, the combatants became immediately the best friends
in the world, and actually vied with each other to see which should
evince the most generous courtesy toward their opponents.

On the present occasion they often made visits to each other, and they
arranged tournaments and other military celebrations which were
attended by the knights and chieftains on both sides. Richard and
Saladin often sent each other handsome presents. At one time when
Richard was sick, Saladin sent him a quantity of delicious fruit from
Damascus. The Damascus gardens have been renowned in every age for the
peaches, pears, figs, and other fruits which they produce, and
especially for a peculiar plum, famous through all the East. Saladin
sent a supply of this fruit to Richard when he heard that he was sick,
and accompanied his present with very earnest and, perhaps, very
sincere inquiries in respect to the condition of the patient, and
expressions of his wishes for his recovery.

The disposition of the two commanders to live on friendly terms with
each other at this time was increased by the hope which Richard
entertained that he might, by some possibility, come to an amicable
agreement with Saladin in respect to Jerusalem, and thus bring the war
to an end. He was beginning to be thoroughly discontented with his
situation, and with every thing pertaining to the war. Nothing since
the first capture of Acre had really gone well. His army had been
repulsed in its attempt to advance into the interior, and was now
hemmed in by the enemy on every side, and shut up in a few towns on
the sea-coast. The men under his command had been greatly diminished
in numbers, and, though sheltered from the enemy, the force that
remained was gradually wasting away from the effects of exposure to
the climate and from fatigue. There was no prospect of any immediate
re-enforcements arriving from Europe, and no hope, without them, of
being able to take the field successfully against Saladin.

Besides all this, Richard was very uneasy in respect to the state of
affairs in his own dominions, in England and in Normandy. He
distrusted the promises that Philip had made, and was very anxious
lest he might, when he arrived in France, take advantage of Richard's
absence, and, under some pretext or other, invade some of his
provinces. From England he was continually receiving very unfavorable
tidings. His mother Eleanora, to whom he had committed some general
oversight of his interests during his absence, was beginning to write
him alarming letters in respect to certain intrigues which were going
on in England, and which threatened to deprive him of his English
kingdom altogether. She urged him to return as soon as possible.
Richard was exceedingly anxious to comply with this recommendation,
but he could not abandon his army in the condition in which it then
was, nor could he honorably withdraw it without having previously come
to some agreement with Saladin by which the Holy Sepulchre could be
secured to the possession of the Christians.

This being the state of the case, he had every motive for pressing the
negotiations, and for cultivating, while they were in progress, the
most friendly relations possible with Saladin, and for persevering in
pressing them as long as the least possible hope remained.
Accordingly, during all this time Richard treated Saladin with the
greatest courtesy. He sent him many presents, and paid him many polite
attentions. All this display of urbanity toward each other, on the
part of these ferocious and bloodthirsty men, has been actually
attributed by mankind to the instinctive nobleness and generosity of
the spirit of chivalry; but, in reality, as is indeed too often the
case with the pretended nobleness and generosity of rude and violent
men, a cunning and far-seeing selfishness lay at the bottom of it.

In the course of these negotiations, Richard declared to Saladin that
all which the Christians desired was the possession of Jerusalem and
the restoration of the true cross, and he said that surely some terms
could be devised on which Saladin could concede those two points. But
Saladin replied that Jerusalem was as sacred a place in the eyes of
Mussulmans, and as dear to them, as it was to the Christians, and
that they could on no account give it up. In respect to the true
cross, the Christians, he said, if they could obtain it, would worship
it in an idolatrous manner, as they did their other relics; and as the
law of the Prophet in the Koran forbade idolatry, they could not
conscientiously give it up. "By so doing," said he, "we should be
accessories to the sin."

It was in consequence of the insuperable objections which arose
against an absolute surrender of Jerusalem to the Christians that the
negotiations took the turn which led to the proposal of a marriage
between the ex-Queen Joanna and Saphadin; for, when Richard found that
no treaty was possible that would give him full possession of
Jerusalem, and the letters which he received from England made more
and more urgent the necessity that he should return, he conceived the
plan of a sort of joint occupancy of the Holy City by Mussulmans and
Christians together. This was to be effected by means of the proposed
marriage. The marriage was to be the token and pledge of a
surrendering, on both sides, of the bitter fanaticism which had
hitherto animated them, and of their determination henceforth to live
in peace, notwithstanding their religious differences. If this state
of feeling could be once established, there would be no difficulty, it
was thought, in arranging some sort of mixed government for Jerusalem
that would secure access to the holy places by both Mussulmans and
Christians, and accomplish the ends of the war to the satisfaction of
all.

It was said that Richard proposed this plan, and that both Saladin and
Saphadin evinced a willingness to accede to it, but that it was
defeated by the influence of the priests on both sides. The imams
among the Mussulmans, and the bishops and monks in Richard's army,
were equally shocked at this plan of making a "compromise of
principle," as they considered it, and forming a compact between evil
and good. The men of each party devoutly believed that the cause which
their side espoused was the cause of God, and that that of the other
was the cause of Satan, and neither could tolerate for a moment any
proposal for a union, or an alliance of any kind, between elements so
utterly antagonistical. And it was in vain, as both commanders knew
full well, to attempt to carry such an arrangement into effect against
the conviction of the priests; for they had, on both sides, so great
an influence over the masses of the people that, without their
approval, or at least their acquiescence, nothing could be done.

So the plan of an alliance and union between the Christians and the
Mohammedans, with a view to a joint occupancy and guardianship of the
holy places in Jerusalem was finally abandoned, and Joanna gave up the
hope, or was released from the fear, as the case may have been, of
having a Saracen for a husband.




CHAPTER XVII.

THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAINS.

1191

The conquest of Jerusalem by Godfrey of Bouillon.--History of
the contest for the title of King of Jerusalem.--A delicate
question.--The Crusaders' motives.--How Richard and Philip took
sides in the quarrel.--The reason of the importance of the
quarrel.--The French maintain Conrad's cause.--Richard's bargain
with Guy.--Richard's reasons for acceding to Conrad's cause.--The
coronation of Conrad.--His assassination.--The Hassassins.--The
Old Man of the Mountains and his followers.--The reckless spirit
of the Hassassins.--Seizure of the murderers.--The torture as a
means of eliciting evidence.--Conflicting accounts.--Uncertainty
respecting the motive of Conrad's murder.--False and spurious
honor.--General opinion of Richard's conduct.--Suspicions of
Philip.--The events consequent on Conrad's death.--Appearance of
Count Henry.--He becomes king of Jerusalem.--The question at
rest.--Dissatisfaction.--The king's proclamation.


One of the greatest sources of trouble and difficulty which Richard
experienced in managing his heterogeneous mass of followers was the
quarrel which has been already alluded to between the two knights who
claimed the right to be the King of Jerusalem, whenever possession of
that city should by any means be obtained. The reader will recollect,
perhaps, that it has already been stated that a very renowned
Crusader, named Godfrey of Bouillon, had penetrated, about a hundred
years before this time, into the interior of the Holy Land, at the
head of a large army, and there had taken possession of Jerusalem;
that the earls, and barons, and other prominent knights in his army
had chosen him king of the city, and fixed the crown and the royal
title upon him and his descendants forever; that when Jerusalem was
itself, after a time, lost, the title still remained in Godfrey's
family, and that it descended to a princess named Sibylla; that a
knight named Guy of Lusignan married Sibylla, and then claimed the
title of King of Jerusalem in the right of his wife; that, in process
of time, Sibylla died, and then one party claimed that the rights of
her husband, Guy of Lusignan, ceased, since he held them only through
his wife, and that thenceforward the title and the crown vested in
Isabella, her sister, who was the next heir; that Isabella, however,
was married to a man who was too feeble and timid to assert his
claims; that, consequently, a more bold and unscrupulous knight, named
Conrad of Montferrat, seized her and carried her off, and afterward
procured a divorce for her from her former husband, and married her
himself; and that then a great quarrel arose between Guy of Lusignan,
the husband of Sibylla, and Conrad of Montferrat, the husband of
Isabella. This quarrel had now been raging a long time, and all
attempts to settle it or to compromise it had proved wholly
unavailing.

The ground which Guy and his friends and adherents took was, that
while they admitted that Guy held the title of King of Jerusalem in
the right of his wife, and that his wife was now dead, still, being
once invested with the crown, it was his for life, and he could not
justly be deprived of it. After his death it might descend very
properly to the next heir, but during his lifetime it vested in him.

Conrad, on the other hand, and the friends and adherents who espoused
his cause, argued that, since Guy had no claim whatever except what
came in and through his wife, of course, when his wife died, his
possession ought to terminate. If Sibylla had had children, the crown
would have descended to one of them; but she being without direct
heirs, it passed, of right, to Isabella, her sister, and that
Isabella's husband was entitled to claim and take possession of it in
her name.

It is obvious that this was a very nice and delicate question, and it
would have been a very difficult one for a company of gay and reckless
soldiers like the Crusaders to settle if they had attempted to look at
it simply as a question of law and right; but the Crusaders seldom
troubled themselves with examining legal arguments, and still less
with seeking for and applying principles of justice and right in
taking sides in the contests that arose among them. The question for
each man to consider in such cases was simply, "Which side is it most
for my interests and those of my party that we should espouse? We
will take that;" or, "Which side are my rivals and enemies, or those
of their party, going to take? We will take the other."

It was by such considerations as these that the different princes, and
nobles, and orders of knights in the army decided how they would range
themselves on this great question. As has already been explained,
Richard took up the cause of Guy, who claimed through the deceased
Sibylla. He had been induced to do so, not by any convictions which he
had formed in respect to the merits of the case, but because Guy had
come to him while he was in Cyprus, and had made such proposals there
in respect to a conjunction with him that Richard deemed it for his
interest to accept them. In a similar way, Conrad had waited upon
Philip as soon as he arrived before Acre, and had induced him to
espouse his, Conrad's, side. If there were two orders of knights in
the army, or two bodies of soldiery, that were at ill-will with each
other through rivalry, or jealousy, or former quarrels, they would
always separate on this question of the King of Jerusalem; and just as
certainly as one of them showed a disposition to take the side of Guy,
the other would immediately go over to that of Conrad, and then these
old and half-smothered contentions would break out anew.

Thus this difficulty was not only a serious quarrel itself, but it was
the means of reviving and giving new force and intensity to a vast
number of other quarrels.

It may seem strange that a question like this, which related, as it
would appear, to only an empty title, should have been deemed so
important; but, in reality, there was something more than the mere
title at issue. Although, for the time being, the Christians were
excluded from Jerusalem, they were all continually hoping to be very
soon restored to the possession of it, and then the king of the city
would become a very important personage, not only in his own
estimation and in that of the army of Crusaders, but in that of all
Christendom. No one knew but that in a few months Jerusalem might come
into their hands, either by being retaken through force of arms, or by
being ceded in some way through Richard's negotiations with Saladin;
and, of course, the greater the probability was that this event would
happen, the more important the issue of the quarrel became, and the
more angry with each other, and excited, were the parties to it. Thus
Richard found that all his plans for getting possession of Jerusalem
were grievously impeded by these dissensions; for the nearer he came,
at any time, to the realization of his hopes, the more completely were
his efforts to secure the end paralyzed by the increased violence and
bitterness of the quarrel that reigned among his followers.

The principal supporters of the cause of Conrad were the French, and
they formed so numerous and powerful a portion of the army, and they
had, withal, so great an influence over other bodies of troops from
different parts of Europe, that Richard could not successfully resist
them and maintain Guy's claims, and he finally concluded to give up,
or to pretend to give up, the contest.

So he made an arrangement with Guy to relinquish his claims on
condition of his receiving the kingdom of Cyprus instead, the unhappy
Isaac, the true king of that island, shut up in the Syrian dungeon to
which Richard had consigned him, being in no condition to resist this
disposition of his dominions. Richard then agreed that Conrad should
be acknowledged as King of Jerusalem, and, to seal and settle the
question, it was determined that he should be crowned forthwith.

It was supposed at the time that one reason which induced Richard to
give up Guy and adopt Conrad as the future sovereign of the Holy City
was, that Conrad was a far more able warrior, and a more influential
and powerful man than Guy, and altogether a more suitable person to be
left in command of the army in case of Richard's return to England,
provided, in the mean time, Jerusalem should be taken; and, moreover,
he was much more likely to succeed as a leader of the troops in a
march against the city in case Richard were to leave before the
conquest should be effected. It turned out, however, in the end, as
will be seen in the sequel, that the views with which Richard adopted
this plan were of a very different character.

Conrad was already the King of Tyre. The position which he thus held
was, in fact, one of the elements of his power and influence among the
Crusaders. It was determined that his coronation as King of Jerusalem
should take place at Tyre, and, accordingly, as soon as the
arrangement of the question had been fully and finally agreed upon,
all parties proceeded to Tyre, and there commenced at once the
preparations for a magnificent coronation. All the principal
chieftains and dignitaries of the army that could be spared from the
other posts along the coast went to Tyre to be present at the
coronation, the whole army, with the exception of a few malcontents,
being filled with joy and satisfaction that the question which had so
long distracted their councils and paralyzed their efforts was now at
length finally disposed of.

These bright prospects were all, however, suddenly blighted and
destroyed by an unexpected event, which struck every one with
consternation, and put all things back into a worse condition than
before. As Conrad was passing along the streets of Tyre one day, two
men rushed upon him, and with small daggers, which they plunged into
his side, slew him. They were so sudden in their movement that all was
over before any one could come to Conrad's rescue, but the men who
committed the deed were seized and put to the torture. They belonged
to a tribe of Arabs called Hassassins.[F] This appellation was taken
from the Arabic name of the dagger, which was the only armor that they
wore. Of course, with such a weapon as this, they could do nothing
effectual in a regular battle with their enemies. Nor was this their
plan. They never came out and met their enemies in battle. They lived
among the mountains in a place by themselves, under the command of a
famous chieftain, whom they called the _Ancient_, and sometimes the
_Lord of the Mountains_. The Christians called him the _Old Man of the
Mountains_, and under this name he and his band of followers acquired
great fame.

[Footnote F: The English word _assassins_ comes from the name of these
men.]

They were, in fact, not much more than a regularly-organized band of
robbers and murderers. The men were extremely wily and adroit; they
could adopt any disguise, and penetrate without suspicion wherever
they chose to go. They were trained, too, to obey, in the most
unhesitating and implicit manner, any orders whatever that the
chieftain gave them. Sometimes they were sent out to rob; sometimes to
murder an individual enemy, who had, in some way or other, excited the
anger of the chief. Thus, if any leader of an armed force attempted to
attack them, or if any officer of government adopted any measures to
bring them to justice, they would not openly resist, but would fly to
their dens and fastnesses, and conceal themselves there, and then
soon afterward the chieftain would send out his emissaries, dressed in
a suitable disguise, and with their little _hassassins_ under their
robes, to watch an opportunity and kill the offender. It is true they
were usually, in such cases, at once seized, and were often put to
death with horrible tortures; but so great was their enthusiasm in the
cause of their chief, and so high the exaltation of spirit to which
the point of honor carried them, that they feared nothing, and were
never known to shrink from the discharge of what they deemed their
duty.

The stabs which the two Hassassins gave to Conrad were so effectual
that he fell dead upon the spot. The people that were near rushed to
his assistance, and while some gathered round the bleeding body, and
endeavored to stanch the wounds, others seized the murderers and bore
them off to the castle. They would have pulled them to pieces by the
way if they had not desired to reserve them for the torture.

The torture is, of course, in every respect, a wretched way of
eliciting evidence. So far as it is efficacious at all in eliciting
declarations, it tends to lead the sufferer, in thinking what he shall
say, to consider, not what is the truth, but what is most likely to
satisfy his tormentors and make them release him. Accordingly, men
under torture say any thing which they suppose their questioners wish
to hear. At one moment it is one thing, and the next it is another,
and the men who conduct the examination can usually report from it any
result they please.

A story gained great credit in the army, and especially among the
French portion of it, immediately after the examination of these men,
that they said that they had been hired by Richard himself to kill
Conrad, and this story produced every where the greatest excitement
and indignation. On the other hand, the friends of Richard declared
that the Hassassins had stated that they were sent by their chieftain,
the Old Man of the Mountain, and that the cause was a quarrel that had
long been standing between Conrad and him. It is true that there had
been such a quarrel, and, consequently, that the Old Man would be,
doubtless, very willing that Conrad should be killed. Indeed, it is
probable that, if Richard was really the original instigator of the
murder, he would have made the arrangement for it with the Old Man,
and not directly with the subordinates. It was, in fact, a part of the
regular and settled business of this tribe to commit murders for pay.
The chieftain might have the more readily undertaken this case from
having already a quarrel of his own with Conrad on hand. It was never
fully ascertained what the true state of the case was. The Arab
historians maintain that it was Richard's work. The English writers,
on the contrary, throw the blame on the Old Man. The English writers
maintain, moreover, that the deed was one which such a man as Richard
was very little likely to perform. He was, it is true, they say, a
very rude and violent man--daring, reckless, and often unjust, and
even cruel--but he was not treacherous. What he did, he did in the
open day; and he was wholly incapable of such a deed as pretending
deceitfully that he would accede to Conrad's claims with a view of
throwing him off his guard, and then putting him to death by means of
hired murderers.

This reasoning will seem satisfactory to us or otherwise, according to
the views we like to entertain in respect to the genuineness of the
sense of generosity and honor which is so much boasted of as a
characteristic of the spirit of chivalry. Some persons place great
reliance upon it, and think that so gallant and courageous a knight
as Richard must have been incapable of any such deed as a secret
assassination. Others place very little reliance upon it. They think
that the generosity and nobleness of mind to which this class of men
make such great pretension is chiefly a matter of outside show and
parade, and that, when it serves their purpose, they are generally
ready to resort to any covert and dishonest means which will help them
to accomplish their ends, however truly dishonorable such means may
be, provided they can conceal their agency in them. For my part, I am
strongly inclined to the latter opinion, and to believe that there is
nothing in the human heart that we can really rely upon in respect to
human conduct and character but sound and consistent moral principle.

At any rate, it is unfortunate for Richard's cause that among those
who were around him at the time, and who knew his character best, the
prevailing opinion was against him. It was generally believed in the
army that he was really the secret author of Conrad's death. The event
produced a prodigious excitement throughout the camp. When the news
reached Europe, it awakened a very general indignation there,
especially among those who were inclined to be hostile to Richard.
Philip, the King of France, professed to be alarmed for his own
safety. "He has employed murderers to kill Conrad, my friend and
ally," said he, "and the next thing will be that he will send some of
the Old Man of the Mountain's emissaries to thrust their daggers into
me."

So he organized an extra guard to watch at the gates of his palace,
and to attend him whenever he went out, and gave them special
instructions to watch against the approach of any suspicious
strangers. The Emperor of Germany too, and the Archduke of Austria,
whom Richard had before made his enemies, were filled with rage and
resentment against him, the effects of which he subsequently felt very
severely.

In the mean time, the excitement in the camp immediately on the death
of Conrad became very strong, and it led to serious disturbances. The
French troops rose in arms and attempted to seize Tyre. Isabella,
Conrad's wife, in whose name Conrad had held the title to the crown of
Jerusalem, fled to the citadel, and fortified herself there with such
troops as adhered to her. The camp was in confusion, and there was
imminent danger that the two parties into which the army was divided
would come to open war. At this juncture, a certain nephew of
Richard's, Count Henry of Champagne, made his appearance. He persuaded
the people of Tyre to put him in command of the town; and supported as
he was by Richard's influence, and by the acquiescence of Isabella, he
succeeded in restoring something like order. Immediately afterward he
proposed to Isabella that she should marry him. She accepted his
proposal, and so he became King of Jerusalem in her name.

The French party, and those who had taken the side of Conrad in the
former quarrel, were greatly exasperated, but as the case now stood
they were helpless. They had always maintained that Isabella was the
true sovereign, and it was through her right to the succession, after
Sibylla's death, that they had claimed the crown for Conrad; and now,
since Conrad was dead, and Isabella had married Count Henry, they
could not, with any consistency, deny that the new husband was fully
entitled to succeed the old. They might resent the murder of Conrad as
much as they pleased, but it was evident that nothing would bring him
back to life, and nothing could prevent Count Henry being now
universally regarded as the King of Jerusalem.

So, after venting for a time a great many loud but fruitless
complaints, the aggrieved parties allowed their resentment to subside,
and all acquiesced in acknowledging Henry as King of Jerusalem.

Besides these difficulties, a great deal of uneasiness and discontent
arose from rumors that Richard was intending to abandon Palestine, and
return to Normandy and England, thus leaving the army without any
responsible head. The troops knew very well that whatever semblance of
authority and subordination then existed was due to the presence of
Richard, whose high rank and personal qualities as a warrior gave him
great power over his followers, notwithstanding their many causes of
complaint against him. They knew, too, that his departure would be the
signal of universal disorder, and would lead to the total dissolution
of the army. The complaints and the clamor which arose from this cause
became so great in all the different towns and fortresses along the
coast, that, to appease them, Richard issued a proclamation stating
that he had no intention of leaving the army, but that it was his
fixed purpose to remain in Palestine at least another year.




CHAPTER XVIII.

THE BATTLE OF JAFFA.

1192

The battle of Jaffa.--Richard gives the army
employment.--Uncomfortable news from England.--Richard's
resolution.--Account of the country through which the army
marched.--The approach to Jerusalem.--Hebron.--The prize in
sight.--Saladin strongly established in Jerusalem.--Richard's
self-reproaches.--A new expedient.--The proposed march upon
Cairo.--The hopeless condition of the army.--Saladin at
Jaffa.--Richard's measures to succor Jaffa.--His fleet arrives
there.--Landing.--The onset upon the Saracens.--Jaffa
retaken.--Both sides awaiting assistance.--The Saracens
defeated.--The story of Saladin's present of horses to his
enemy.--The romantic story of the treacherous gift.


When, at last, the state of Richard's affairs had been reduced, by the
causes mentioned in the last chapter, to a very low ebb, he suddenly
succeeded in greatly improving them by a battle. This battle is known
in history as the battle of Jaffa. It was fought in the early part of
the summer of 1192.

As soon as he had issued his proclamation declaring to his soldiers
that he would positively remain in Palestine for a year, he began to
make preparations for another campaign. The best way, he thought, to
prevent the army from wasting away its energies in internal conflicts
between the different divisions of it was to give those energies
employment against the common enemy; so he put every thing in motion
for a new march into the interior. He left garrisons in the cities of
the coast, sufficient, as he judged, to protect them from any force
which the Saracens were likely to send against them in his absence,
and forming the remainder in order of march, he set out from his
head-quarters at Jaffa, and began to advance once more toward
Jerusalem.

Of course, this movement revived, in some degree, the spirit of his
army, and awakened in them new hopes. Still, Richard himself was
extremely uneasy, and his mind was filled with solicitude and anxiety.
Messengers were continually coming from Europe with intelligence which
was growing more and more alarming at every arrival. His brother John,
they said, in England, was forming schemes to take possession of the
kingdom in his own name. In France, Philip was invading his Norman
provinces, and was evidently preparing for still greater aggression.
He must return soon, his mother wrote him, or he would lose all. Of
course, he was in a great rage at what he called the treachery of
Philip and John, and burned to get back and make them feel his
vengeance. But he was so tied up with the embarrassments and
difficulties that he was surrounded with in the Holy Land, that he
thought it absolutely necessary to make a desperate effort to strike
at least one decisive blow before he could possibly leave his army,
and it was in this desperate state of mind that he set out upon his
march. It was near the end of May.

The army advanced for several days. They met with not much direct
opposition from the Saracens, for Saladin had withdrawn to Jerusalem,
and was employed in strengthening the fortifications there, and making
every thing ready for Richard's approach. But the difficulties which
they encountered from other causes, and the sufferings of the army in
consequence of them, were terrible. The country was dry and barren,
and the weather hot and unhealthy. The soldiers fell sick in great
numbers, and those that were well suffered extremely from thirst and
other privations incident to a march of many days through such a
country in such a season. There were no trees or shelter of any kind
to protect them from the scorching rays of the sun, and scarcely any
water to be found to quench their thirst. The streams were very few,
and all the wells that could be found were soon drunk dry. Then there
was great difficulty in respect to provisions. A sufficient supply for
so many thousands could not be brought up from the coast, and all that
the country itself had produced--which was, in fact, very little--was
carried away by the Saracens as Richard advanced. Thus the army found
itself environed with great difficulties, and before many days it was
reduced to a condition of actual distress.

The expedition succeeded, however, in advancing to the immediate
vicinity of Jerusalem. Early in June they encamped at Hebron, which is
about six miles from Jerusalem, toward the south. Here they halted;
and Richard remained here some days, weighed down with perplexity and
distress, and extremely harassed in mind, being wholly unable to
decide what was best to be done.

From a hill in the neighborhood of Hebron Jerusalem was in sight.
There lay the prize which he had so long been striving to obtain, all
before him, and yet he was utterly powerless to take it. For this he
had been manoeuvring and planning for years. For this he had
exhausted all the resources of his empire, and had put to imminent
hazard all the rights and interests of the crown. For this he had left
his native land, and had brought on, by a voyage of three thousand
miles, all the fleets and armies of his kingdom; and now, with the
prize before him, and all Europe looking on to see him grasp it, his
hand had become powerless, and he must turn back, and go away as he
came.

Richard saw at once that it must be so; for while, on the one hand,
his army was well-nigh exhausted, and was reduced to a state of such
privation and distress as to make it nearly helpless, Saladin was
established in Jerusalem almost impregnably. While the divisions of
Richard's army had been quarreling with each other on the sea-coast,
he had been strengthening the walls and other defenses of the city,
until they were now more formidable than ever. Richard received
information, too, that all the wells and cisterns of water around the
city had been destroyed by the Saracens, so that, if they were to
advance to the walls and commence a siege, they would soon be obliged
to raise it, or perish there with thirst. So great was Richard's
distress of mind under these circumstances, that it is said, when he
was conducted to the hill from which Jerusalem was to be seen, he
could not bear to look at it. He held his shield up before his eyes to
shut out the sight of it, and said that he was not worthy to look upon
the city, since he had shown himself unable to redeem it.

There was a council of war held to consider what it was best to do. It
was a council of perplexity and despair. Nobody could tell what it
was best to do. To go back was disgrace. To go forward was
destruction; and it was impossible for them to remain where they were.

In his desperation Richard conceived of a new plan, that of marching
southward and seizing Cairo. The Saracens derived almost all the
stores of provisions for the use of their armies from Cairo, and
Hebron was on the road to it. The way was open for Richard's army to
march in that direction, and, by carrying this plan into execution,
they would, at least, get something to eat. Besides, it would be a
mode of withdrawing from Jerusalem that would not be quite a retreat.
Still, these reasons were wholly insufficient to justify such a
measure, and it is not probable that Richard seriously entertained the
plan. It is much more likely that he proposed the idea of a march upon
Cairo as a means of amusing the minds of his knights and soldiers, and
diminishing the extreme disappointment and vexation which they must
have felt in relinquishing the plan of an attack upon Jerusalem, and
that he intended, after proceeding a short distance on the way toward
Egypt, to find some pretext for turning down toward the sea-shore, and
re-establishing himself in his cities on the coast.

At any rate, whether it was the original plan or not, such was the
result. As soon as the encampment was broken up, and the army
commenced its march, and the troops learned that the hope of
recovering the Holy Sepulchre, and all the other lofty aspirations and
desires which had led them so far, and through so many hardships and
dangers, were now to be abandoned, they were first enraged, and then
they sank into a condition of utter recklessness and despair. All
discipline was at an end. No one seemed now to care what became of the
expedition or of themselves. The French soldiers, under the Duke of
Burgundy, revolted openly, and declared they would go no farther. The
troops from Germany joined them. So Richard gave up the plan, or
seemed to give it up, and gave orders to march to Acre; and there, at
last, the army arrived in a state of almost utter dissolution.

In a short time the news came to them that Saladin had followed them
down, and had seized upon Jaffa. He had taken the town, and shut up
the garrison in the citadel, whither they had fled for safety; and
tidings came that, unless Richard very soon came to the rescue, the
citadel would be compelled to surrender.

Richard immediately ordered that all the troops that were in a
condition to march should set out immediately, to proceed down the
coast from Acre to Jaffa. He himself, he said, would hasten on by sea,
for the wind was fair, and a part of his force, all that he had ships
enough in readiness to convey, could go much quicker by water than by
land, besides the advantage of being fresh on their arrival for an
attack on the enemy. So he assembled as many ships as could be got
ready, and embarked a select body of troops on board of them. There
were seven of the ships. He took the command of one of them himself.
The Duke of Burgundy, with the French troops under his command,
refused to go.

The little fleet set sail immediately and ran down the coast very
rapidly. When they came to Jaffa they found that the town was really
in possession of the Saracens, and that large bodies of the enemy were
assembled on the shore to prevent the landing of Richard's forces.
This array appeared so formidable that all the knights and officers on
board the ships urged Richard not to attempt to attack them, but to
wait until the body of the army should arrive by land.

But Richard was desperate and reckless. He declared that he _would_
land; and he uttered an awful imprecation against those who should
hesitate to follow him. He brought the boats up as near the shore as
possible, and then, with his battle-axe in his right hand, and his
shield hung about his neck, so as to have his left hand at liberty, he
leaped into the water, calling upon the rest to come on. They all
followed his example, and, as soon as they gained the shore, they made
a dreadful onset upon the Saracens that were gathered on the beach.
The Saracens were driven back. Richard made such havoc among them with
his battle-axe, and the men following him were made so resolute and
reckless by his example, that the ranks of the enemy were broken
through, and they fled in all directions.

Richard and his men then rushed on to the gates of the town, and
almost before the Saracens who were in possession of them could
recover from their surprise, the gates were seized, those who had been
stationed at them were slain or driven away, and then Richard and his
troops, rushing through, closed them, and the Saracens that were
within the town were shut in. They were soon all overpowered and
slain, and thus the possession of the town was recovered.

But this was not the end, as Richard and his men knew full well.
Though they had possession of the town itself, they were surrounded by
a great army of Saracens, that were hovering around them on the plain,
and rapidly increasing in numbers; for Saladin had sent orders to the
interior directing all possible assistance to be sent to him. Richard
himself, on the other hand, was hourly expecting the arrival of the
main body of his troops by land.

They arrived the next day, and then came on the great contest.
Richard's troops, on their arrival, attacked the Saracens from
without, while he himself, issuing from the gates, assaulted them from
the side next the town. The Crusaders fought with the utmost
desperation. They knew very well that it was the crisis of their fate.
To lose that battle was to lose all. The Saracens, on the other hand,
were not under any such urgent pressure. If overpowered, they could
retire again to the mountains, and be as secure as before.

They _were_ overpowered. The battle was fought long and obstinately,
but at length Richard was victorious, and the Saracens were driven off
the ground.

[Illustration: SALADIN'S PRESENT.]

Various accounts are given by the different writers who have
narrated the history of this crusade, of a present of a horse made by
Saladin to Richard in the course of the war, and the incident has been
often commented upon as an evidence of the high and generous
sentiments which animated the combatants in this terrible crusade in
their personal feelings toward each other. One of the stories makes
the case an incident of this battle. The Saracens, flying from the
field, came to Saladin, who was watching the contest, and, in
conversation with him, they pointed out Richard, who was standing
among his knights on a small rising ground.

"Why, he is on foot!" exclaimed Saladin. Richard _was_ on foot. His
favorite charger, Favelle, was killed under him that morning, and as
he had come from Acre in haste and by sea, there was no other horse at
hand to supply his place.

Saladin immediately said that that was not as it should be. "The King
of England," said he, "should not fight on foot like a common
soldier." He immediately sent over to Richard, with a flag of truce,
two splendid horses. King Richard accepted the present, and during the
remainder of the day he fought on one of the horses which his enemy
had thus sent him.

One account adds a romantic embellishment to this story by saying that
Saladin sent only one horse at first--the one that he supposed most
worthy of being sent as a gift from one sovereign to another; but that
Richard, before mounting him himself, directed one of his knights to
mount him and give him trial. The knight found the horse wholly
unmanageable. The animal took the bits between his teeth and galloped
furiously back to the camp of Saladin, carrying his rider with him, a
helpless prisoner. Saladin was exceedingly chagrined at this result;
he was afraid Richard might suppose that he sent him an unruly horse
from a treacherous design to do him some injury. He accordingly
received the knight who had been borne so unwillingly to his camp in
the most courteous manner, and providing another horse for him, he
dismissed him with presents. He also sent a second horse to Richard,
more beautiful than the first, and one which he caused Richard to be
assured that he might rely upon as perfectly well trained.




CHAPTER XIX.

THE TRUCE.

1192

Richard and Saladin agree upon a three years' truce.--Richard's
reason for this course.--The treaty.--The coast.--Ascalon to be
dismantled.--Pilgrims to Jerusalem protected.--Events consequent
upon the truce.--Visiting the Holy City.--Saladin restraining
the Saracens from revenge.--The visit of the bishop to
Jerusalem.--Saladin's just opinion of King Richard.--The
institution for the entertainment of pilgrims.


The result of the battle of Jaffa greatly strengthened and improved
the condition of the Crusaders, and in the same proportion it weakened
and discouraged Saladin and the Saracens. But, after all, instead of
giving to either party the predominance, it only placed them more
nearly on a footing of equality than before. It began to be pretty
plain that neither of the contending parties was strong enough, or
would soon be likely to be strong enough to accomplish its purposes.
Richard could not take Jerusalem from Saladin, nor could Saladin drive
Richard out of the Holy Land.

In this state of things, it was finally agreed upon between Richard
and Saladin that a truce should be made. The negotiations for this
truce were protracted through several weeks, and the summer was gone
before it was concluded. It was a truce for a long period, the
duration of it being more than three years. Still, it was strictly a
truce, not a peace, since a termination was assigned to it.

Richard preferred to make a truce rather than a peace for the sake of
appearances at home. He did not wish that it should be understood
that, in leaving the Holy Land and returning home, he abandoned all
design of recovering the Holy Sepulchre. He allowed three years, on
the supposition that that would be time enough for him to return home,
to set every thing in order in his dominions, to organize a new
crusade on a larger scale, and to come back again. In the mean time,
he reserved, by a stipulation of the treaty, the right to occupy, by
such portion of his army as he should leave behind, the portion of
territory on the coast which he had conquered, and which he then held,
with the exception of one of the cities, which one he was to give up.
The terms of the treaty, in detail, were as follows:

               STIPULATIONS OF THE TREATY.

     1. The three great cities of Tyre, Acre, and Jaffa, with all
     the smaller towns and castles on the coast between them,
     with the territory adjoining, were to be left in the
     possession of the Christians, and Saladin bound himself that
     they should not be attacked or molested in any way there
     during the continuance of the truce.

     2. Ascalon, which lay farther to the south, and was not
     necessary for the uses of Richard's army, was to be given
     up; but Saladin was to pay, on receiving it, the estimated
     cost which Richard had incurred in rebuilding the
     fortifications. Saladin, however, was not to occupy it
     himself as a fortified town. It was to be so far dismantled
     as only to be used as a commercial city.

     3. The Christians bound themselves to remain within their
     territory in peace, to make no excursions from it for
     warlike purposes into the interior, nor in any manner to
     injure or oppress the inhabitants of the surrounding
     country.

     4. All persons who might desire to go to Jerusalem in a
     peaceful way as visitors or pilgrims, whether they were
     knights or soldiers belonging to the army, or actual
     pilgrims arriving at Acre from the different Christian
     countries of Europe, were to be allowed to pass freely to
     and fro, and Saladin bound himself to protect them from all
     harm.

     5. The truce thus agreed upon was to continue in force three
     years, three months, three weeks, three days, and three
     hours; and at the end of that time, each party was released
     from all obligations arising under the treaty, and either
     was at liberty immediately to resume the war.

The signing of the treaty was the signal for general rejoicing in all
divisions of the army. One of the first fruits of it was that the
knights and soldiers all immediately began to form parties for
visiting Jerusalem. It was obvious that all could not go at once; and
Richard told the French soldiers who were under the Duke of Burgundy
that he did not think they were entitled to go at all. They had done
nothing, he said, to help on the war, but every thing to embarrass and
impede it, and now he thought that they did not deserve to enjoy any
share of the fruits of it.

Three large parties were formed and they proceeded, one after the
other, to visit the Holy City. There was some difficulty in respect to
the first party, and it required all Saladin's authority to protect
them from insult or injury by the Saracen people. The animosity and
anger which they had been so long cherishing against these invaders of
their country had not had time to subside, and many of them were very
eager to avenge the wrongs which they had suffered. The friends and
relatives of the hostages whom Richard had massacred at Acre were
particularly excited. They came in a body to Saladin's palace, and,
falling on their knees before him, begged and implored him to allow
them to take their revenge on the inhuman murderers, now that they had
them in their power; but Saladin would not listen to them a moment. He
refused their prayer in the most absolute and positive manner, and he
took very effectual measures for protecting the party of Christians
during the whole duration of their visit.

The question being thus settled that the Christian visitors to
Jerusalem were to be protected, the excitement among the people
gradually subsided; and, indeed, before long, the current of feeling
inclined the other way, so that, when the second party arrived, they
were received with great kindness. Perhaps the first party had taken
care to conduct themselves in such a manner during their visit, and in
going and returning, as to conciliate the good-will of their enemies.
At any rate, after their visit there was no difficulty, and many in
the camp, who had been too distrustful of Saracenic faith to venture
with them, now began to join the other parties that were forming, for
all had a great curiosity to see the city for the sake of which they
had encountered so many dangers and toils.

With the third party a bishop ventured to go. It was far more
dangerous for a high dignitary of the Christian Church to join such an
expedition than for a knight or a common soldier, both because such a
man was a more obnoxious object of Mohammedan fanaticism, and thus
more likely, perhaps, to be attacked, and also because, in case of an
attack, being unarmed and defenseless, he would be unable to protect
himself, and be less able even to act efficiently in making his escape
than a military man, who, as such, was accustomed to all sorts of
surprises and frays.

The bishop, however, experienced no difficulty. On the contrary, he
was received with marks of great distinction. Saladin made special
arrangements to do him honor. He invited him to his palace, and there
treated him with great respect, and held a long conversation with him.
In the course of the conversation Saladin desired to know what was
commonly said of him in the Christian camp.

"What is the common opinion in your army," he asked, "in respect to
Richard and to me?"

He wished to know which was regarded as the greatest hero.

"My king," replied the bishop, "is regarded the first of all men
living, both in regard to his valorous deeds and to the generosity of
his character. That I can not deny. But your fame also is very exalted
among us; and it is the universal opinion in our army that if you were
only converted to Christianity, there would not be in the world two
such princes as Richard and you."

In the course of further conversation Saladin admitted that Richard
was a great hero, and said that he had a great admiration for him.

"But then," he added, "he does wrong, and acts very unwisely, in
exposing himself so recklessly to personal danger, when there is no
sufficient end in view to justify it. To act thus evinces rashness and
recklessness rather than true courage. For myself, I prefer the
reputation of wisdom and prudence rather than that of mere blind and
thoughtless daring."

The bishop, in his conversation with Saladin, represented to him that
it was necessary for the comfort of the pilgrims who should from time
to time visit Jerusalem that there should be some public establishment
to receive and entertain them, and he asked the sultan's permission
to found such institutions. Saladin acceded to this request, and
measures were immediately adopted by the bishop to carry the
arrangement into effect.

Richard himself did not visit Jerusalem. The reason he assigned for
this was that he was sick at the time. Perhaps the real reason was
that he could not endure the humiliation of paying a visit, by the
mere permission of an enemy, to the city which he had so long set his
heart upon entering triumphantly as a conqueror.




CHAPTER XX.

THE DEPARTURE FROM PALESTINE.

1192

Richard's reasons for returning home.--Causes of internal
dissension in England and Normandy.--Longchamp's disguise.--His
escape from England.--Philip's oath broken.--Pretext for invading
Normandy.--Proposed marriage of John and Alice.--Richard's return
unannounced.--Sailing from Palestine.--Richard's apostrophe to the
Holy Land.


One of the chief objects which Richard had in view in concluding the
truce with Saladin was to be able to have an honorable pretext for
leaving the Holy Land and setting out on his return to England. He had
received many letters from his mother urging him to come, and giving
him alarming accounts of the state of things both in England and
Normandy.

In England, the reader will perhaps recollect that Richard, when he
set out on the Crusade, had appointed his brother John regent, in
connection with his mother Eleanora, but that he had also, in order to
raise money, appointed several noblemen of high standing and influence
to offices of responsibility, which they were to exercise, in a great
measure, independent of John. And, not content with appointing a
suitable number of these officers, he multiplied them unnecessarily,
and in some instances conveyed the same jurisdiction, as it were, to
different persons, thus virtually selling the same office to two
different men. Of course, this was not done openly and avowedly. The
transactions were more or less covered up and concealed under
different disguises. For example, after selling the post of chief
justiciary, which was an office of great power and emolument, to one
nobleman, and receiving as much money for it as the nobleman was
willing to pay, he afterward appointed other noblemen as assistant
justiciaries, exacting, of course, a large sum of money from each of
them, and granting them, in consideration of it, much the same powers
as he had bestowed upon the chief justiciary. Of course, such a
proceeding as this could only result in continual contentions and
quarrels among the appointees, to break out as soon as Richard should
be gone. But the king cared little for that, so long as he could get
the money.

The quarrels did break out immediately after Richard sailed. There
were various parties to them. There were Eleanora and John, each
claiming to be the regent. Then there were two powerful noblemen, both
maintaining that they had been invested with the supreme power by
virtue of the offices which they held. The name of one of them was
Longchamp. He contrived to place himself, for a time, quite at the
head of affairs, and the whole country was distracted by the wars
which were waged between him and his partisans and the partisans of
John. Longchamp was at last defeated, and was obliged to fly from the
kingdom in disguise. He was found one day by some fishermen's wives,
on the beach near Dover, in the disguise of an old woman, with a roll
of cloth under his arm, and a yard-stick in his hand. He was waiting
for a boat which was to take him across the Channel into France. He
disguised himself in that way that he might not be known, and when
seen from behind the metamorphosis was almost complete. The women,
however, observed something suspicious in the appearance of the
figure, and so contrived to come nearer and get a peep under the
bonnet, and there they saw the black beard and whiskers of a man.

Notwithstanding this discovery, Longchamp succeeded in making his
escape.

As to Normandy, Richard's interests were in still greater danger than
in England. King Philip had taken the most solemn oaths before he left
the Holy Land, by which he bound himself not to molest any of
Richard's dominions, or to take any steps hostile to him, while
he--that is, Richard--remained away; and that if he should have any
cause of quarrel against him, he would abstain from all attempts to
enforce his rights until at least six months after Richard's return.
It was only on condition of this agreement that Richard would consent
to remain in Palestine in command of the Crusade, and allow Philip to
return.

But, notwithstanding this solemn agreement, and all the oaths by which
it was confirmed, no sooner was Philip safe in France than he
commenced operations against Richard's dominions. He began to make
arrangements for an invasion of some of Richard's territories in
Normandy, under pretext of taking possession again of Alice's dower,
which it was agreed, by the treaty made at Messina, should be restored
to him. But it had also been agreed at that treaty that the time for
the restoration of the dowry should be after Richard's return, so that
the plans of invasion which Philip was now forming involved clearly a
very gross breach of faith, committed without any pretense or
justification whatever. This instance, and multitudes of others like
it to be found in the histories of those times, show how little there
was that was genuine and reliable in the lofty sense of honor often
so highly lauded as one of the characteristics of chivalry.

In justice, however, to all concerned, it must be stated that Philip's
knights and nobles remonstrated so earnestly against this breach of
faith, that Philip was compelled to give up his plan, and to content
himself in his operations against Richard with secret intrigues
instead of open war. As he knew that John was endeavoring to supplant
Richard in his kingdom, he sent to him and proposed to join him in
this plan, and to help him carry it into execution; and he offered him
the hand of Alice, the princess whom Richard had discarded, to seal
and secure the alliance. John was quite pleased with this proposal;
and information of these intrigues, more or less definite, came to
Richard in Palestine about the time of the battle of Jaffa, from
Eleanora, who contrived in some way to find out what was going on. The
tidings threw Richard into a fever of anxiety to leave Palestine and
return home.

It was about the first of October that Richard set sail from Acre on
his return, with a small squadron containing his immediate attendants.
He himself embarked in a war-ship. The queens, taking with them the
captive princess of Cyprus and the other members of their family,
went as they came, in a vessel specially arranged for them, and under
the care of their old protector, Stephen of Turnham. The queens
embarked first in their vessel and sailed away. Richard followed soon
afterward. His plan was to leave the coast as quietly and in as
private a manner as possible. If it were to be understood in France
and England that he was on his return, he did not know what plans
might be formed to intercept him. So he kept his departure as much as
possible a secret, and the more completely to carry out this design,
he gave up for the voyage all his royal style and pretensions, and
dressed himself as a simple knight.

The vessels slipped away from the coast, one after another, in the
evening, in a manner to attract as little attention as possible. They
made but little progress during the night. In the morning the shore
was still in view, though fast disappearing. Richard gazed upon it as
he stood on the deck of his galley, and then took leave of it by
stretching out his hands and exclaiming,

"Most holy land, farewell! I commend thee to God's keeping and care.
May He give me life and health to return and rescue thee from the
hands of the infidel."

The effect of this apostrophe on the by-standers, and on those to whom
the by-standers reported it, was excellent, and it was probably for
the sake of this effect that Richard uttered it.




CHAPTER XXI.

RICHARD MADE CAPTIVE.

1192

The returning Crusaders met by a storm.--Richard's sudden change
of course.--His route homeward.--King Richard traveling in
disguise of a pilgrim.--Richard's enemies in Germany.--Fancied
security.--Richard solicits a passport.--Maynard's answer.--The
alarm given.--King Richard's flight through Germany.--Richard
concealed near Vienna.--His messenger.--Torturing the
messenger.--The king a captive.--The archduke imprisons Richard
in Tiernsteign.--The emperor buys the prisoner.


It was now late in the season, and the autumnal gales had begun to
blow. It was but a very short time after the vessels left the port
before so severe a storm came on that the fleet was dispersed, and
many of the vessels were driven upon the neighboring coasts and
destroyed. The Crusaders that had been left in Acre and Jaffa were
rather pleased at this than otherwise. They had been indignant at
Richard and the knights who were with him for having left them, to
return home, and they said now that the storm was a judgment from
Heaven against the men on board the vessels for abandoning their work,
and going away from the Holy Land, and leaving the tomb and the cross
of Christ unredeemed. Some of the ships, it is said, were thrown on
the coasts of Africa, and the seamen and knights, as fast as they
escaped to the shore, were seized and made slaves.

Richard's ship, and also the one in which the queens were embarked,
being stronger and better manned than the others, weathered the gale.
After it was over, the queens' vessel steered for Sicily, where, in
due time, they arrived in safety.

Richard did not intend to trust himself to go to any place where he
was known. Accordingly, as soon as he found himself fairly separated
from all the other vessels, he suddenly changed his course, and turned
northward toward the mouth of the Adriatic Sea. He landed at the
island of Corfu.[G] Here he dismissed his ship, and took three small
galleys instead, to go up to the head of the Adriatic Sea, and thence
to make his way homeward by land through the heart of Germany.

[Footnote G: For the situation of this island, see the map on page
164.]

He probably thought that this was the safest and best course that he
could take. He did not dare to go through France for fear of Philip.
To go all the way by sea, which would require him to sail out through
the Straits of Gibraltar into the Atlantic, would require altogether
too long and dangerous a voyage for so late a season of the year. The
only alternative left was to attempt to pass through Germany; and, as
the German powers were hostile to him, it was not safe for him to
undertake this unless he went in disguise.

So he sailed in the three galleys which he procured in Corfu to the
head of the Adriatic Sea, and landed at a place called Zara. Here he
put on the dress of a pilgrim. He had suffered his hair and beard to
grow long, and this, with the flowing robes of his pilgrim's dress,
and the crosier which he bore in his hand, completed his disguise.

But, though he might make himself _look_ like a pilgrim, he could not
act like one. He was well provided with money, and his mode of
spending it, though it might have been, perhaps, very sparing for a
king, was very lavish for a pilgrim; and the people, as he passed
along, wondered who the party of strangers could be. Partly to account
for the comparative ease and comfort with which he traveled, Richard
pretended that he was a merchant, and, though making his pilgrimage on
foot, was by no means poor.

Richard knew very well that he was incurring a great risk in
attempting to pass through Germany in this way, for the country was
full of his foes. The Emperor of Germany was his special enemy, on
account of his having supported Tancred's cause in Sicily, the
emperor himself, as the husband of the Lady Constance, having been
designated by the former King of Sicily as his successor. Richard's
route led, too, through the dominions of the Archduke of Austria, whom
he had quarreled with and incensed so bitterly in the Holy Land.
Besides this, there were various chieftains in that part of the
country, relatives of Conrad of Montferrat, whom every body believed
that Richard had caused to be murdered.

Richard was thus passing through a country full of enemies, and he
might naturally be supposed to feel some anxiety about the result;
but, instead of proceeding cautiously, and watching against the
dangers that beset him, he went on quite at his ease, believing that
his good fortune would carry him safely through.

He went on for some days, traveling by lonely roads through the
mountains, until at length he approached a large town. The governor of
the town was a man named Maynard, a near relative of Conrad, and it
seems that in some way or other he had learned that Richard was
returning to England, and had reason to suppose that he might endeavor
to pass that way. Richard did not think it prudent to attempt to go
through the town without a passport, so he sent forward a page whom he
had in his party to get one. He gave the page a very valuable ruby
ring to present to the governor, directing him to say that it was a
present from a pilgrim merchant, who, with a priest and a few other
attendants, was traveling through the country, and wished for
permission to go through his town.

The governor took the ring, and after examining it attentively and
observing its value, he said to the page,

"This is not the present of a pilgrim, but of a prince. Tell your
master that I know who he is. He is Richard, King of England.
Nevertheless, he may come and go in peace."

Richard was very much alarmed when the page brought back the message.
That very night he procured horses for himself and one or two others,
and drove on as fast as he could go, leaving the rest of the party
behind. The next day those that were left were all taken prisoners,
and the news was noised abroad over the country that King Richard was
passing through in disguise, and a large reward was offered by the
government for his apprehension. Of course, now every body was on the
watch for him.

The king, however, succeeded in avoiding observation and going on some
distance farther, until at length, at a certain town where he stopped,
he was seen by a knight who had known him in Normandy. The knight at
once recognized him, but would not betray him. On the contrary, he
concealed him for the night, and provided for him a fresh horse the
next day. This horse was a fleet one, so that Richard could gallop
away upon him and make his escape, in case of any sudden surprise.
Here Richard dismissed all his remaining attendants except his page,
and they two set out together.

They traveled three days and three nights, pursuing the most retired
roads that they could find, and not entering any house during all that
time. The only rest that they got was by halting at lonely places by
the road side, in the forests, or among the mountains. In these places
Richard would remain concealed, while the boy went to a village, if
there was any village near, to buy food. He generally got very little,
and sometimes none at all. The horse ate whatever he could find. Thus,
at the end of the three days, they were all nearly starved.

Besides this, they had lost their way, and were now drawing near to
the great city of Vienna, the most dangerous place for Richard to
approach in all the land. He was, however, exhausted with hunger and
fatigue, and from these and other causes he fell sick, so that he
could proceed no farther. So he went into a small village near the
town, and sent the boy in to the market to buy something to eat, and
also to procure some other comforts which he greatly needed. The
people in the town observed the peculiar dress of the boy, and his
foreign air, and their attention was still more excited by noticing
how plentifully he was supplied with money. They asked him who he was.
He said he was the servant of a foreign merchant who was traveling
through the country, and who had been taken sick near by.

The people seemed satisfied with this explanation, and so they let the
boy go.

Richard was so exhausted and so sick that he could not travel again
immediately, and so he had occasion, in a day or two, to send the boy
into town again. This continued for some days, and the curiosity of
the people became more and more awakened. At last they observed about
the page some articles of dress such as were only worn by attendants
upon kings. It is surprising that Richard should have been so
thoughtless as to have allowed him to wear them. But such was his
character. The people finally seized the boy, and the authorities
ordered him to be whipped to make him tell who he was. The boy bore
the pain very heroically, but at length they threatened to put him to
the torture, and, among other things, to cut out his tongue, if he did
not tell. He was so terrified by this that at last he confessed the
truth and told them where they might find the king.

A band of soldiers was immediately sent to seize him. The story is
that Richard, at the time when the soldiers arrived, was in the
kitchen turning the spit to roast the dinner. After surrounding the
house to prevent the possibility of an escape, the soldiers demanded
at the door if King Richard was there. The man answered, "No, not
unless the Templar was he who was turning the spit in the kitchen." So
the soldiers went in to see. The leader exclaimed, "Yes, that is he:
take him!" But Richard seized his sword, and, rushing to a position
where he could defend himself, declared to the soldiers that he would
not surrender to any but their chief. So the soldiers, deeming it
desirable to take him alive, paused until they could send for the
archduke. The archduke had left the Holy Land and returned home some
time before. Richard, however, did not probably know that he was
passing through his dominions.

When the archduke came, Richard, knowing that resistance would be of
no avail, delivered up his sword and became a prisoner.

"You are very fortunate," said Leopold. "In becoming my prisoner, you
ought to consider yourself as having fallen into the hands of a
deliverer rather than an enemy. If you had been taken by any of
Conrad's friends, who are hunting for you every where, you would have
been instantly torn to pieces, they are so indignant against you."

When the archduke had thus secured Richard, he sent him, for safe
keeping, to a castle in the country belonging to one of his barons,
and gave notice to the emperor of what had occurred. The name of the
castle in which Richard was confined was Tiernsteign.

As soon as the emperor heard that Richard was taken he was overjoyed.
He immediately sent to Leopold, the archduke, and claimed the prisoner
as his.

[Illustration: CASTLE AND TOWN OF TIERNSTEIGN.]

"_You_ can not rightfully hold him," said he. "A duke can not
presume to imprison a king; that duty belongs to an emperor."

But the archduke was not willing to give Richard up. A negotiation
was, however, opened, and finally he consented to sell his prisoner
for a large sum of money. The emperor took him away, and what he did
with him for a long time nobody knew.

In the mean while, during the period occupied by the voyage of Richard
up the Adriatic, by his long and slow journey by land, and by the time
of his imprisonment in Tiernsteign, the winter had passed away, and it
was now the spring of 1193.




CHAPTER XXII.

THE RETURN TO ENGLAND.

1193-1199

Conjectures of Richard's friends.--Queen Berengaria in
Rome.--Richard in prison.--He is discovered by
Blondel.--Berengaria's distress at the loss of her husband.--The
people of England sympathize with Richard.--King Richard arraigned
before the German Diet.--The six charges against the
king.--Richard's ransom to be divided between the emperor and the
archduke.--Richard finally reaches England.--Flight of John.--The
expedition to Normandy.--Ill treatment of Berengaria.--Richard's
reckless immoralities.--A warning.--Sudden illness.--Recovery.--The
peasant's discovery of hidden treasures.--Videmar denies the
story.--Richard shot by Bertrand's arrow.--King Richard's
reign.--The character of the "lion-hearted."


During all this time the people of England were patiently waiting for
Richard's return, and wondering what had become of him. They knew that
he had sailed from Palestine in October, and various were the
conjectures as to his fate. Some thought that he had been shipwrecked;
others, that he had fallen into the hands of the Moors; but all was
uncertainty, for no tidings had been heard of him since he sailed from
Acre. Berengaria had arrived safely at Messina, and after remaining
there a little time she proceeded on her journey, under the care of
Stephen, as far as Rome, very anxious all the time about her husband.
Here she stopped, not daring to go any farther. She felt safe in Rome,
under the protection of the Pope.

The emperor attempted to keep Richard's imprisonment a secret. On
removing him from Tiernsteign, he shut him up in one of his own
castles on the Danube named Durenstein. Here the king was closely
imprisoned. He did not, however, yield to any depression of spirits in
view of his hard fate, but spent his time in composing and singing
songs, and in drinking and carousing with the people of the castle.
Here he remained during the spring and summer of 1193, and all the
world were wondering what had become of him.

At length rumors began gradually to circulate in respect to him among
the neighboring countries, and the conduct of the emperor, in seizing
and imprisoning him, was very generally condemned. How the
intelligence first reached England is not precisely known. One story
is, that a celebrated Troubadour, named Blondel, who had known Richard
in Palestine, was traveling through Germany, and in his journey he
passed along the road in front of the castle where Richard was
confined. As he went he was singing one of his songs. Richard knew the
song, and so, when the Troubadour had finished a stanza, he sang the
next one through the bars of his prison window. Blondel recognized the
voice, and instantly understood that Richard had been made a prisoner.
He, however, said nothing, but went on, and immediately took measures
to make known in England what he had learned.

Another account is, that the emperor himself wrote to Philip, King of
France, informing him of the King of England's imprisonment in one of
his castles, and that some person betrayed a copy of this letter to
Richard's friends in England.

It is said that Berengaria received the first intimation in respect to
Richard's fate by seeing a belt of jewels offered for sale in Rome
which she knew he had had about his person when he left Acre. She made
all the inquiry that she could in respect to the belt, but she could
only learn that Richard must be somewhere in Germany. It was a relief
to her mind to find that he was alive, but she was greatly distressed
to think that he was probably a prisoner, and she implored the Pope to
interpose his aid and procure his release. The Pope did interpose. He
immediately excommunicated Leopold for having seized Richard and
imprisoned him, and he threatened to excommunicate the emperor himself
if he did not release him.

In the mean time, the tidings in respect to Richard's situation
produced a great excitement throughout England. John was glad to hear
it, and he hoped most devoutly that his brother would never be
released. He immediately began to take measures, in concert with
Philip, to secure the crown to himself. The people, on the other hand,
were very indignant against the Emperor of Germany, and every one was
eager to take some efficient measures to secure the king's release. A
great meeting was called of the barons, the bishops, and all the great
officers of the realm, at Oxford, where, when they had assembled, they
renewed their oaths of allegiance to their sovereign, and then
appointed a delegation, consisting of two abbots, to go and visit the
king, and confer with him in respect to what was best to be done. They
chose two ecclesiastics for their messengers, thinking that they would
be more likely to be allowed to go and come without molestation, than
knights or barons, or any other military men.

The abbots proceeded to Germany, and there the first interview which
they had with Richard was on the road, as the emperor was taking him
to the capital in order to bring him before a great assembly of the
empire, called the Diet, for the purpose of trial.

Richard was overjoyed to see his friends. He was, however, very much
vexed when he heard from them of the plans which John and Philip were
engaged in for dispossessing him of his kingdom. He said, however,
that he had very little fear of any thing that they could do.

"My brother John," said he, "has not courage enough to accomplish any
thing. He never will get a kingdom by his valor."

When he arrived at the town where the Diet was to be held, Richard had
an interview with the emperor. The emperor had two objects in view in
detaining Richard a prisoner. One was to prevent his having it in his
power to help Tancred in keeping him, the emperor, out of possession
of the kingdom of Sicily, and the other was to obtain, when he should
set him at liberty at last, a large sum of money for a ransom. When he
told Richard what sum of money he would take, Richard refused the
offer, saying that he would die rather than degrade his crown by
submitting to such terms, and impoverishing his kingdom in raising the
money.

The emperor then, in order to bring a heavier pressure to bear upon
him, arraigned him before a Diet as a criminal. The following were the
charges which he brought against him:

     1. That he had formed an alliance with Tancred, the usurper
     of Sicily, and thus made himself a partaker in Tancred's
     crimes.

     2. That he had invaded the dominions of Isaac, the Christian
     king of Cyprus, deposed the king, laid waste his dominions,
     and plundered his treasures; and, finally, had sent the
     unhappy king to pine away and die in a Syrian dungeon.

     3. That, while in the Holy Land, he had offered repeated and
     unpardonable insults to the Archduke of Austria, and,
     through him, to the whole German nation.

     4. That he had been the cause of the failure of the Crusade,
     in consequence of the quarrels which he had excited between
     himself and the French king by his domineering and violent
     behavior.

     5. That he had employed assassins to murder Conrad of
     Montferrat.

     6. That, finally, he had betrayed the Christian cause by
     concluding a base truce with Saladin, and leaving Jerusalem
     in his hands.

It is possible that the motive which led the emperor to make these
charges against Richard was not any wish or design to have him
convicted and punished, but only to impress him more strongly with a
sense of the danger of his situation, with a view of bringing him to
consent to the payment of a ransom. At any rate, the trial resulted
in nothing but a negotiation in respect to the amount of ransom-money
to be paid.

Finally, a sum was agreed upon. Richard was sent back to his prison,
and the abbots returned to England to see what could be done in
respect to raising the money.

The people of England undertook the task not only with willingness,
but with alacrity. The amount required was nearly a million of
dollars, which, in those days, was a very large sum even for a kingdom
to pay. The amount was to be paid in silver. Two thirds of it was to
go to the emperor, and the other third to the archduke, who, when he
sold his prisoner to the emperor, had reserved a right to a portion of
the ransom-money whenever it should be paid.

As soon as two thirds of the whole amount was paid, Richard was to be
released on condition of his giving hostages as security for the
remainder.

It took a long time to raise all this money, and various
embarrassments were created in the course of the transaction by the
emperor's bad faith, for he changed his terms from time to time,
demanding more and more as he found that the interest which the
people of England took in the case would bear. At last, however, in
February, 1194, about two years after Richard was first imprisoned, a
sufficient sum arrived to make up the first payment, and Richard was
set free.

After meeting with various adventures on his journey home, he arrived
on the English coast about the middle of March.

The people of the country were filled with joy at hearing of his
return, and they gave him a magnificent reception. One of the German
barons who came home with him said, when he saw the enthusiasm of the
people, that if the emperor had known how much interested in his fate
the people of England were, he would not have let him off with so
small a ransom.

John was, of course, in great terror when he heard that Richard was
coming home. He abandoned every thing and fled to Normandy. Richard
issued a decree that if he did not come back and give himself up
within forty days, his estates should all be confiscated. John was
thrown into a state of great perplexity by this, and did not know what
to do.

As soon as Richard had arranged his affairs a little in England, he
determined to be crowned again anew, as if his two years of captivity
had broken the continuity of his reign. Accordingly, a new coronation
was arranged, and it was celebrated, as the first one had been, with
the greatest pomp and splendor.

After this Richard determined to proceed to Normandy, with a view of
there making war upon Philip and punishing him for his treachery. On
his landing in Normandy, John came to him in a most abject and
submissive manner, and, throwing himself at his feet, begged his
forgiveness. Eleanora joined him in the petition. Richard said that,
out of regard to his mother's wishes, he would pardon him.

"And I hope," said he, "that I shall as easily forget the injuries he
has done me as he will forget my forbearance in pardoning him."

Poor Berengaria was very illy rewarded for the devotion which she had
manifested to her husband's interests, and for the efforts she had
made to secure his release. She had come home from Rome a short time
before her husband arrived, but he, when he came, manifested no
interest in rejoining her. Instead of that, he connected himself with
a number of wicked associates, both male and female, whom he had known
before he went to the Holy Land, and lived a life of open profligacy
with them, leaving Berengaria to pine in neglect, alone and forsaken.
She was almost heart-broken to be thus abandoned, and several of the
principal ecclesiastics of the kingdom remonstrated very strongly with
Richard for this wicked conduct. But these remonstrances were of no
avail. Richard abandoned himself more and more to drunkenness and
profligacy, until at length his character became truly infamous.

One day in 1195, when he was hunting in the forest of Normandy, he was
met by a hermit, who boldly expostulated with him on account of the
wickedness of his life. The hermit told him that, by the course he was
pursuing, he was grievously offending God, and that, unless he stopped
short in his course and repented of his sins, he was doomed to be
brought very soon to a miserable end by a special judgment from
heaven.

The king pretended not to pay much attention to this prophecy, but not
long afterward he was suddenly seized with a severe illness, and then
he became exceedingly alarmed. He sent for all the monks and priests
within ten miles around to come to him, and began to confess his sins
with apparently very deep compunction for them, and begged them to
pray for God's forgiveness. He promised them solemnly that, if God
would spare his life, he would return to Berengaria, and thenceforth
be a true and faithful husband to her as long as he lived.

He recovered from his sickness, and he so far kept the vows which he
had made as to seek a reconciliation with Berengaria, and to live with
her afterward, ostensibly at least, on good terms.

For three years after this Richard was engaged in wars with Philip
chiefly on the frontiers between France and Normandy. At last, in the
midst of this contest, he suddenly came to his death under
circumstances of a remarkable character. He had heard that a peasant
in the territory of one of his barons, named Videmar, in plowing in
the field, had come upon a trap-door in the ground which covered and
concealed the entrance to a cave, and that, on going down into the
cave, he had found a number of golden statues, with vases full of
diamonds, and other treasures, and that the whole had been taken out
and carried to the Castle Chaluz, belonging to Videmar. Richard
immediately proceeded to Videmar, and demanded that the treasures
should be given up to him as the sovereign. Videmar replied that the
rumor which had been spread was false; that nothing had been found
but a pot of old Roman coins, which Richard was welcome to have, if he
desired them. Richard replied that he did not believe that story; and
that, unless Videmar delivered up the statues and jewels, he would
storm the castle. Videmar repeated that he had no statues and jewels,
and so Richard brought up his troops and opened the siege.

During the siege, a knight named Bertrand de Gordon, standing on the
wall, and seeing Richard on the ground below in a position where he
thought he could reach him with an arrow, drew his bow and took aim.
As he shot it he prayed to God to speed it well. The arrow struck
Richard in the shoulder. In trying to draw it out they broke the
shaft, thus leaving the barb in the wound. Richard was borne to his
tent, and a surgeon was sent for to cut out the barb. This made the
wound greater, and in a short time inflammation set in, mortification
ensued, and death drew nigh. When he found that all was over with him,
and that his end had come, he was overwhelmed with remorse, and he
died at length in anguish and despair.

His death took place in the spring of 1199. He had reigned over
England ten years, though not one of these years had he spent in that
kingdom.

Berengaria lived afterward for thirty years.

King Richard the First is known in history as the lion-hearted, and
well did he deserve the name. It is characteristic of the lion to be
fierce, reckless, and cruel, intent only in pursuing the aims which
his own lordly and impetuous appetites and passions demand, without
the least regard to any rights of others that he may trample under
foot, or to the sufferings that he may inflict on the innocent and
helpless. This was Richard's character precisely, and he was proud of
it. His glory consisted in his reckless and brutal ferocity. He
pretended to be the champion and defender of the cause of Christ, but
it is hardly possible to conceive of a character more completely
antagonistic than his to the just, gentle, and forgiving spirit which
the precepts of Jesus are calculated to form.

               THE END.




TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

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