THE FIGHT THAT LOST JERUSALEM.

The winter of 1186-7 was a season of anxious forebodings. In Syria men do not willingly enter on campaigning before May, when the rains and snow are past and the roads are hardening after the winter sloughs. The Christians at Jerusalem, at Acre, Tyre, and Ascalon, and at the score of massive fortresses scattered over the Holy Land, had ample leisure to look forward and reckon up the chances of the struggle. For all knew that the crisis was impending. There was a truce, indeed, at the moment, but it had no stability. Two years before, the regent of the childking, Count Raymond of Tripolis, the descendant of the heroes of the first crusade, and now the longest-headed man in the State, had concluded a treaty with Saladin, which was to last four years. During that time the Christians were to abstain from provocation, and the Saracens were to keep to their own country on the further side of Jordan, and leave the Holy Land in peace. The terms were sure to be honourably observed by Saladin, for he was never known to break his word; but there was no such assurance on the side of the Christians, whose priests joyfully absolved every breach of faith with the infidels. The old crusading families, in whom custom and experience had bred some toleration, were glad enough to return to their former relations with their Moslem neighbours; but the more forward spirits, newcomers to the land, and the fighting Orders of the Temple and Hospital, ever zealous for the faith and for booty, murmured openly at Raymond's pact with the unbeliever. The younger party had now the upper hand. The child-king, Baldwin V., was dead, and an intrigue had enthroned Sibylla, a daughter of the royal house of Jerusalem, and she had shared her crown with her husband, Guy of Lusignan. Raymond had retired to nurse his discontent at his castle of Tiberias, on the lake of Galilee, and to cement his alliance with the Moslem Sultan of Damascus. In his fear of Guy's threatened chastisement he even accepted a guard of Saracens which Saladin sent to strengthen his garrison. The ex-regent was looked upon ns a traitor to the Cross and Crown.

Whilst the leaders of the Christians were at variance, the lems had never been so united. The genius of Saladin had

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knit together the different races and tribes of all the country between the Nile and the Tigris. From a subaltern in the army of Nur-ed-din, he had made himself Viceroy of Egypt, joined Syria to Egypt and Mesopotamia to Syria, until he had no rival west of the mountains of the Kurds; and the Caliph of Baghdad himself acclaimed him 'Sultan of Islam and of the Moslems.' In subduing his wide empire Saladin had kept steadily before his eyes the dearest hope of his life, the hope of waging the Holy War in Palestine and rescuing the Holy City from the

idolaters. To him Jerusalem was as sacred as to any crusader of them all. It was sacred by the memory of Jesus Son of Mary, whom all Moslems reverence; but it was even more holy as the spot whence the Prophet, 'upon whom be peace,' ascended to visit the mysteries of Paradise, and as the place where all the faithful must assemble at the Trump of the Last Day. To deliver it from the profanation of Christians, and to drive the 'polytheists' from the Holy Land, was the object nearest to his heart. He had prepared for the great conjuncture of his life during years of patient expansion and organisation; he would not strike till the blow could be dealt effectually; and now he knew that the time had come.

He had not long to wait for the provocation. Reginald of Châtillon was a born breaker of treaties, and he broke Raymond's truce, like all the rest. He had been a captive for many years in a Saracen prison, and the iron had eaten into his soul. He devoted the remainder of his days to revenge. From his eyrie in the Castle of Karak, in Outre-Jourdain, on the east of the Dead Sea, he swooped down upon peaceful caravans of merchants, scoffing at their safe-conducts and heedless of the remonstrances of his sovereign the King of Jerusalem. He had even dared to invade the most sacred spots in Arabia, and attempted to destroy Medina itself, where repose the very bones of Mohammed. In 1186 he repeated his unlawful raids. A rich caravan of merchants passed near his castle, journeying tranquilly towards Damascus, with no thought of danger, since of late the truce had been respected. Rumour said that no less a personage than Saladin's sister rode among the silken litters. Suddenly Reginald with his knights was upon them, aud when they protested that there was peace in the land and royal safe-conduct, he jeered: 'If they trusted in Mohammed, let Mohammed save them. He had bitter cause to regret his taupt a year later. On hearing of this

last outrage Saladin swore a great oath that the lord of Karak should die by his hand-and he kept it.

'The taking of that caravan was the ruin of Jerusalem,' says the Christian chronicler. The word went forth from Damascus, the tocsin sounded for the Jihad, and Saladin summoned the faithful to the Holy War. Messengers hastened to his allies and vassals, viceroys and governors, throughout Egypt, Syria, and Mesopotamia, to bid them assemble their feudal levies. Troop after troop hurried to Damascus, and each as it arrived was posted on the frontier against the Franks. On May 28, 1187, he set up his yellow standard on the plain of Ashtaroth, and marshalled his squadrons for the Armageddon of Islam.

Saladin had possibly looked for support from his friend at Tiberias; but close as was their alliance, the ties of country and knighthood, perhaps even of religion, proved stronger still. A mere episode, a skirmish, albeit a bloody one, recalled Count Raymond to his crusader's vow. His defection was a danger to Christendom, and his experience was needed in the royal council chamber; so it happened that in the spring an effort was made to appease the wrath of the sullen Achilles.

Balian of Ibelin, a noble distinguished alike by valour and discretion, was sent out with the Masters of the two military Orders on a mission of conciliation. Ernoul, Balian's squire, has left a graphic account of the journey. He tells how Balian was detained at Nablus, whilst the others pressed forward to La Fève; how he loitered again at Sabat, where he was fain to hear the good bishop say a mass; and how, when at last he reached the 'Castle of the Bean,' he found its gates wide open and the Masters and all their followers flown. Ernoul went shouting through the empty passages, but none answered. Two sick men were found at last, but they could not tell him what had happened. So Balian rode on towards Nazareth, and on the way a brother of the Temple met him, whom he eagerly questioned, 'What news?' 'Bad,' said the Templar, and he told how the Master of St. John, and all the Templars, save their own Master and two others, were slain, and that forty of the King's knights were prisoners in the Saracens' hands.

Raymond, it seemed, was the cause of this disaster. As lord. of that district he had given leave to Saladin's son to make an excursion into the Christian borders. The object remains a mystery. It may have been merely a sporting party-for the

Saracen princes were all keen huntsmen or it may have been a reconnaissance in force. The latter is the view taken by the Arabic chroniclers, who say the expedition numbered 7,000 men, and was commanded by two of Saladin's most experienced generals. Ernoul, on the other hand, describes it rather as a party of pleasure-as one might say, a Saracenic picnic. Count Raymond apparently thought so too, though he had his misgivings. He could not risk a breach with Saladin, his only protector against the King's party, and dared not withhold his consent; but he stipulated that the Saracens should cross and recross the Jordan in a single day, and molest neither town nor house on the journey. The conditions were accepted, and the Count sent messengers to warn all peaceable inhabitants to stay at home.

All would have been well but for the arrival of the two Masters at La Fève. Unluckily one of Raymond's messengers brought the news to the castle at the very time when they were resting there; and, full of righteous wrath, the Templars and Hospitallers summoned such small forces as lay in garrison near by and sallied forth to repel the invaders. They at least would have no pact with the infidel. The Saracens were quietly retiring to the Jordan. They had kept their word, and 'injured neither town, nor house, nor castle.' They were preparing to recross the river into their own country when the Masters overtook them. It was not the first nor yet the last time that the hot-headed zeal of the soldier monks brought about their own destruction. The Franks attacked at the Spring of Cresson, and were utterly cut to pieces. The Saracens continued their march in tranquillity, and as they passed by Tiberias Raymond could see Christian heads upon their spears. This was on Friday, the first of May, the Feast of St. Philip and St. James.

Horror and remorse for the disaster he had brought upon Christendom, we may well believe, overwhelmed all other resentments that Raymond had cherished. In presence of such a calamity to the great fighting Orders, and through them to the very kingdom itself, no man could think of private grievances. Raymond met Guy halfway, and the reconciled Count joined his King at the general muster of the crusaders by the Fountain of Saffurîa. There, on Thursday, July 2, at vespers, the news came which all had been expecting for weeks. The Countess Eschiva sent word that Saladin had crossed the Jordan, and was laying

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siege to her Castle of Tiberias. Her appeal for help was considered in earnest council; but one voice was strenuous in opposing the rescue: it was the voice of her husband. Whether Raymond even now was honest in his loyalty may be doubted; the first fresh impulse of his remorse may have been deadened by the slights and coldness and jealousies of his rivals in the camp; but his advice was that of a wise man and a soldier. The distance to Tiberias was indeed but fifteen miles; to the heights by Hittîn, where Saladin's main army was encamped, it was little more than ten; but Raymond urged the vital argument when he pointed out that between the two camps there was not a single stream or well. It was the height of a Syrian summer, and to march infantry across the waterless plain to meet an enemy fresh from the springs and gardens which abounded near Tiberias was madness. A flank march, to cut off Saladin's retreat by the bridges over the Jordan, was practicable; and the enemy's position, with his back to the steep descent, was hazardous in the extreme: he might be driven into the lake. Or, again, the crusaders might stand on the defensive, choose their ground, and force Saladin to attack at a disadvantage. But a direct attack in face, with an army parched with thirst and exhausted after a hot and harassed march, would be courting defeat. Such was Raymond's counsel. * Better,' he said, 'that my city of Tiberias fall, and my wife and all I possess be taken by the Saracens, than that the whole land be lost : and if you march that way it must be lost.'

The Count's advice prevailed with the royal council; but later in the evening Gerard of Rideford, the Master of the Temple, gained the King's separate ear, and convinced him that Raymond had only spoken like the traitor men held him : he could have nothing to fear from his Moslem ally, and his advice was in the interest not of Christendom but of heathenesse.' Guy was persuaded, and without further consultation gave a sudden order to break up camp. On Friday, July 3, the fatal march began.

Saladin's scouts had kept him well informed of what was doing at Saffurîa, and he was fully prepared. He had 12,000 well-armed horsemen with him, inured to war and 'with a stake in the country,' besides a vast crowd of zealous volunteers for the ' Path of God'—the Holy War, which ensured eternal privileges to its martyrs.' The numbers of the Christian army are variously stated. Ralph of Coggeshall puts them at 1,200 knights, 18,000 infantry, and several hundred · Turcopoles,' or light cavalry armed vith bows after the Turkish manner. The Itinerarium mentions

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