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.



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.



"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

1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters errors, and to ensure consistent spelling and punctuation in this etext; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the original book.

2. The chapter summaries in this text were originally published as banners in the page headers, and have been moved to beginning of the chapter for the reader's convenience.

3. Footnote G has been changed to refer the reader to page 164, to correct a typesetter's error.

THE END