The Disaster at La Forbie I

Kingship in medieval times was a thing apart, remote from
ordinary human preoccupations, touched with divinity. A king did not walk or
talk like ordinary mortals; still less did he make decisions like them, for he
saw himself walking with God at his side. While the emperors of Byzantium were
most keenly aware of their divine power, even the kings of small states like
Cyprus believed they were especially blessed. As a consequence, the king stood
at the greatest possible distance from his subjects. He rarely knew what they
were thinking, and rarely cared.

From the very beginning the pope had hoped that kings would
lead the Crusade. Their splendor, their majesty, their semi-divine powers were
needed as much as their armies were for the final conquest of the Holy Land. Their
mystical armor preserved them from the arrows of the Saracens. In the
imagination of the Vatican, the kings always rode ahead of their knights and
infantrymen, and there was always a papal legate beside the king to warn, to
console, to bless, and to guide.

In 1234, at the midpoint of the truce arranged between the
Emperor Frederick and Sultan al-Kamil, Pope Gregory IX found himself once more
putting his trust in a Crusade of kings. He appealed to the kings of France,
England, Aragon, Castile, and Portugal. He wanted all of them to assemble their
armies in Italy and then to sail off to the Holy Land in order to secure the
Kingdom of Jerusalem finally and unalterably. The appeal was urgent, for the
principalities in Palestine were dangerously unstable, capable of drowning each
other in a sudden bloodbath. Bohemond V ruled over Antioch and Tripoli, but
without his father’s flair for vigorous government and legal scholarship.
Various members of the Ibelin family ruled over Beirut, Arsuf and Jaffa. In
Acre, the merchant colonies of Genoa, Pisa, and Venice elected consuls whose
administration extended over the greater part of the city, which was nominally
the capital of Richard Filanghieri, whom Frederick had appointed as his
viceroy. Tyre was in the hands of Philip of Montfort. The Templars and
Hospitallers also had their independent principalities, which consisted of vast
chains of fortresses dotted across the length and breadth of Palestine. The
Holy Land was fragmented, and its two kings, Conrad and John of Brienne, were
both in Italy.

The pope’s call for a Crusade of kings produced only one
king. This was Thibault IV, Count of Champagne, who became, in 1234, king of
Navarre. He was a faithful servant of the Church, (he burned heretics). He was
witty and improvident, generous to a fault, but without much talent as a war
leader. He had one virtue as a military commander: he was cautious not out of
cowardice, but because he wanted to save as many lives as possible.

Before taking part in the Crusade, the king of Navarre wrote
to the barons of the Kingdom of Jerusalem and asked some sensible questions. He
wanted to know whether they regarded the truce to be valid; whether the new
Crusaders would be welcomed; which were the best ports of departure; and
whether he would be able to find supplies in Cyprus. They answered that the
truce was invalid, for the Saracens attacked whenever they pleased; the best
ports were Genoa and Marseilles; there were plentiful supplies in Cyprus.
Moreover, once they reached Cyprus, they were in a position to strike at Syria
or Egypt according to the opportunities at the time of their arrival. He would
be warmly welcomed, and they hoped he would come soon.

The army reached Lyons in the summer of 1239. The muster
roll included some of the most prominent names of French chivalry, Hugh IV,
Duke of Burgundy, among them. The king of Navarre had planned to lead his army
across Italy and to set sail from Brindisi, but the pope and Frederick were
still quarreling bitterly and he had no desire to be caught in the middle. The
army, numbering about twelve hundred knights and eight or nine thousand foot
soldiers, marched down the Rhone Valley, some taking ship at Marseilles and
others at Aigues-Mortes.

All went well at the beginning. However, as they approached
the Holy Land, the ships were scattered by a sudden storm; some were blown onto
the shores of Cyprus, while others drifted all the way to Sicily. But the
portly figure of the king was seen stepping off his flagship at Acre on
September 1, 1239, with the walls streaming with banners and the crowds
cheering.

The Sultan al-Kamil had died in March, 1238. He had led his
army against Damascus in January, captured it, and then set about organizing
his empire, which stretched from southern Egypt almost to the Euphrates. But
the effort was too much for him. His death at the age of sixty precipitated
another civil war. A nephew, al-Jawad, seized power in Damascus, while his
elder son, as-Salih Ayub, marched against Damascus with the help of Khwarismian
tribesmen and quickly put an end to the rule of al-Jawad. As-Salih Ayub’s
younger brother, al-Adil II, formerly viceroy of Egypt, appointed himself
Sultan at the time of his father’s (al-Kamil’s) death. Enamored of a handsome
young Negro, al-Adil II surrendered most of his powers to the youth, which
would later bring about the enmity of the emirs and most of the population. In
May 1240 the tent of the sultan and the youth would be surrounded, and they
would both be killed. As-Salih Ayub, who would lose Damascus to his uncle,
as-Salih Ismail, would then become sultan of Egypt. With one as-Salih in Cairo
and another in Damascus, the civil war between the two branches of the family
would begin in earnest, complicated by the presence of marauding Khwarismian
tribesmen.

By dying, al-Kamil had made civil war inevitable; and by
inviting Khwarismians to enter his army, his elder son had made it inevitable
for those hordes of tribesmen to sweep across the country.

On the surface it might have seemed that the war between Damascus
and Cairo was favorable to the Christians. But the Christians were themselves
engaged in smoldering, haphazard civil wars, which flared up at intervals and
subsided quietly: between the followers of Frederick and the Frankish barons
who detested him, between the Temple and the Hospital, and between the local
principalities. The king of Navarre was not the powerful charismatic leader
capable of welding the kingdom into a single fighting force. The kingdom
resembled an animal with too many heads and too many legs. The Arabs could
survive their civil wars; it was becoming increasingly doubtful whether the
Christians could survive theirs.

In an unhappy time, the king of Navarre did his best. His
coming coincided with two events of considerable significance. Jerusalem fell
to al-Nasir Daud, King of Transjordania. This was believed to be the fault of
Richard Filanghieri, Frederick’s viceroy, who had neglected to fortify the city
or had done so only halfheartedly in the belief that the truce of Jaffa would be
maintained. That the siege lasted as long as twenty-seven days testified to the
determination of the garrison troops. That it took place at all testified to
the lack of leadership at Acre. No attempt was made to send a relief force. No
arms or provisions were sent. Al-Nasir allowed the Christians to go free but
none were allowed to remain in Jerusalem; and he dismantled the Tower of David.
The fall of Jerusalem seemed to take place in a strange silence, without anyone
being aware of it.

The second event which took place at this time was the fall
of Damascus to as-Salih Ismail. This was not an event that could possibly pass
unnoticed. As long as al-Kamil’s elder son remained alive, he could be depended
upon to stir up civil war. At this time, al-Adil II, degenerate and
luxury-loving, was still ruling Egypt. In these circumstances, the King of
Navarre, with his small council of advisers, had to decide whether to attack
Egypt or Damascus. The council consisted of the master of the Temple, the
patriarch of Jerusalem, the bishop of Acre, the master of the Teutonic Order,
and Gauthier IV of Brienne, Count of Jaffa, the nephew of John of Brienne, King
of Jerusalem. Gauthier, who was married to the daughter of Hugh I of Lusignan,
King of Cyprus, was coming into prominence as one of the leading barons of the
kingdom.

The decision of the council was to attack Egypt first and
Damascus second. An attack on Jerusalem was discussed briefly, and there was
even some talk of a foray against Safed, overlooking the Sea of Galilee. But
the general opinion was that an attack on Alexandria or Damietta would be most
profitable, since it was known that al-Adil II was unpopular with his people.
The former empire of al-Kamil was in ruins, but the various pieces of it were
still formidable. The king of Navarre was aware that an attack on Egypt
presented grave problems, and his most important task was to keep his army
intact. He would not, if he could possibly avoid it, permit any of his officers
to engage in reckless adventures. The lesson of Hattin had finally been
learned.

On November 2, the king’s army marched out of Acre with the
intention of attacking the Egyptian outposts of Ascalon and Gaza. The army
numbered about four thousand knights and about twelve thousand foot soldiers;
and although the foot soldiers were comparatively few, this was one of the
largest armies that had ever set out against the Saracens. Some of the local
barons took part; the Templars and the Hospitallers were also represented; the
army was well armed, but there were not enough horses, and many of the knights
were forced to walk; provisions were low, but spirits were high. To ride
against the enemy under a king was an experience the Crusaders had not enjoyed
for many years.

While they were marching on Jaffa, Peter of Dreux, Count of
Brittany, learned from a spy that a rich caravan was moving up the Jordan
Valley toward Damascus. Included in the caravan was a great herd of cattle and
sheep intended to provision Damascus in the event of a Crusader attack, which
as-Salih Ismail had been expecting for some time. The count of Brittany decided
that the herd could be put to better use by the Crusaders. Without asking
permission of the king of Navarre, he detached about two hundred knights from
the main army to form a raiding party. He rode off into the hills the same
evening, and at dawn found himself close to the castle where the caravan, which
was well guarded by bowmen and cavalry, had camped for the night. The spy had
given the count of Brittany an accurate report of the castle and the approach
roads, and it was therefore possible to set up an ambush. One of the approach
roads entered a narrow defile, and the count hoped that the caravan would pass
through the defile. He divided his troops, posted himself in the defile, and
gave Ralph of Nesles command of the alternate road. What was certain was that
the caravan would have to pass along one of those roads.

The caravan came along the road that led to the defile, and
here the count of Brittany pounced upon it. There was some savage hand-to-hand
fighting, during which the count of Brittany was nearly killed. The bowmen were
too close to the Crusading knights to be able to discharge their arrows, and
the knights were always at their best in close combat. There were probably fewer
than three hundred men in the raiding party, and only half of these were
attacking in the defile. The horn was sounded. Ralph of Nesles brought up his
troops in time to decide the battle. The enemy fled to the castle, pursued by
the knights, who seized the herds of cattle and sheep, killed many of the
defenders, and made others captive. For the rest of the day, and for two more
days, the Crusaders guarded the herds on the way to Jaffa.

Meanwhile the king of Navarre learned that the sultan of
Egypt had sent an army to Gaza. Al-Adil II was not witless; he had large armies
and was prepared to use them; and he was well aware of the threat posed by the
king’s arrival in the Holy Land. Some of the knights, dazzled by the success of
the count of Brittany’s raiding party, began to think of a raid on Gaza. Hugh
IV, Duke of Burgundy, was one of those who favored the raid, and his standing
among the knights was almost as high as that of the king of Navarre. When the
ever-cautious king of Navarre discovered this plan, he objected strongly. So
did the Templars and Hospitallers. But it appeared that there were only a
thousand enemy troops at Gaza and, according to the conspirators, it would be
easy to overwhelm them. Let them go forward, attack Gaza, and if the signs were
propitous, march into Egypt. The king of Navarre insisted that the army should
move forward as a single unit. The count of Brittany and the heads of the
military orders protested just as strenuously. The king reminded them that they
had all taken an oath to obey him as their military leader. They were
rebellious and refused to listen.