The Battle of Hattin: A Crushing Defeat of Christendom

 On July 4, 1187, the feudal army of the Kingdom of Jerusalem was defeated by the forces of Saladin.  It was one of the most significant disasters in medieval military history.  Christian casualties at the battle were so enormous that the defense of the rest of the Kingdom of Jerusalem became impossible. In consequence, the defeat at Hattin led directly to the loss of the entire kingdom including the city of Jerusalem itself. Today Dr. Schrader provides a short analysis of the battle and its significance.

Medieval Depiction of the Battle of Hattin, July 4, 1187

The importance of Hattin to contemporaries was not just the magnitude of the defeat, but the unexpectedness of it.  In retrospect, the Muslim victory seems inevitable. Muslim states had always surrounded the crusader kingdom (as they hem in Israel today) and the Muslim rulers had always been able to call on much larger military forces than their Christian opponents.  In the early years of Latin presence in the Holy Land, the divisions among the Muslim leaders, most especially the rivalry and hatred between Shiite Caliphate of Cairo and the Sunni Caliphate of Baghdad, had played into Christian hands.  However, once Saladin had managed to unite Syria and Egypt under a single, charismatic leader the balance of power clearly tipped to the Muslims. 

However, Christian armies under Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and Richard I of England defeated Saladin on the battlefield more than once.  Saladin was a powerful, charismatic and clever commander, who knew how to deploy his forces effectively and use terrain to his advantage — but he was not invincible. Indeed, he was dealt a defeat every bit as devastating as Hattin in November 1177 at the Battle of Montgisard. His invading army was annihilated, and he himself had to flee on the back of a pack-camel. In July 1182, the Christian army under Baldwin IV stopped another full-scale invasion by Saladin, forcing him to withdraw across the Jordan with comparatively few Christian losses. In June the following year, 1183, the Christian army confronted yet another invasion on an even larger force and again forced Saladin to withdraw — this time without even engaging in an all-out battle.

Despite these apparent successes, it was clear to the King of Jerusalem that Saladin was getting stronger with each new invasion attempt.  Saladin had increased his own power base from Cairo and Damascus to Aleppo, Homs, and Mosul, while the Christians had no new infusions of blood, territory or income. In consequence, in 1184 Baldwin IV sent a frantic plea to the West, begging for a new crusade and offering the Western leader — whoever he might be — the keys to the kingdom. The lack of response reflected Western complacency about the threat to Jerusalem and implicit confidence in the ability of Baldwin and his barons to continue to defeat Saladin’s attempts to push the Christian kingdom into the sea.

It was because of Baldwin’s earlier successes against Saladin, that the news of Hattin and the loss of Jerusalem shocked the West, allegedly causing the immediate death of Pope Urban III. How was it possible that a young and vigorous king, Guy I, could lead the same army to defeat that a youth suffering from leprosy (and only commanding his armies from a liter) had led to victory again and again?  

Rarely in human history has a defeat been so wholly attributable to poor generalship on the losing side as at Hattin. To be sure, Saladin set a trap for the Christian armies. The bait was the citizens and garrison of Tiberius under the command of the Countess of Tripoli, who were besieged in the citadel after the fall of the city on July 2. 

The Christian army was mustered at Sephorie, only some 15 miles to the west. The pleas for help from the Countess and Tiberius naturally evoked a response from the Christian army, most notably her four grown sons.  But the Count of Tripoli himself warned that it was a trap and opposed the decision to go to the aid of his wife and Tiberius. Tripoli’s reasoning convinced the majority of his peers and the council of war composed of the leading barons agreed to stay where they were and force Saladin to come to them. However, the Grand Master of the Temple went separately and secretly to King Guy after the council dispersed and convinced him to order the advance for the following day. In short, although warned, King Guy took the bait.

To relieve Tiberius, the Christian army had to cross territory that was at this time of year devoid of fodder for the horses and where water sources were widely dispersed. With Saladin’s forces already occupying the springs at Cafarsset on the southern route from Sephorie to Tiberias, the Christian had no choice but to follow the northern track. Intense heat and harassment by the enemy slowed the Christian march to a crawl, and by noon on July 3, the Christian army had advanced only six miles to the springs of Turan.  With nine miles more to go, it was clear the army could not reach Tiberius before nightfall and prudence alone should have dictated a halt at Turan, where men and horses could rest and drink. Instead, King Guy, against all reason, ordered the advance to continue. Immediately, Saladin sent his troops to occupy Turan, thereby not-only blocking the Christian retreat but harassing the Christian rear-guard and further slowing the rate of advance.

A depiction of the Christian army advancing toward Hattin carrying the “True Cross”

from the film “The Kingdom of Heaven”

When darkness fell on July 3, the Christian army was still six miles short of its objective and forced to camp in an open field completely surrounded by enemy forces.  The Christians had been marching and fighting for hours without water in the intense heat of a Palestinian summer. Men and horses were exhausted and further demoralized by the sound of Saracen drums surrounding them and the countless campfires advertising the enemy’s strength.

By morning, those fires were brush-fires intentionally set ablaze to windward of the Christian army in a maneuver that dried their already parched throats further while half-blinding them with smoke. Out of the smoke came volleys of arrows, and again “some of the Christian lords” urged King Guy to charge Saladin’s position at once, in an attempt to win the battle by killing the Sultan.  King Guy instead chose to try to march the entire army toward the springs of Hattin, still some three miles away and cut off by one wing of Saladin’s army.

While the Frankish cavalry tried to drive off the Saracens in a series of charges, the infantry stumbled forward until, half-blinded by smoke, constantly attacked by the enemy and near dying of thirst, their morale broke.  As casualties mounted, some of the infantry retreated up the slopes of the “horns” of Hattin, two steep hills that flanked the plane on which the army had camped and now marched. They refused to fight any more. 

Meanwhile, the Count of Tripoli with his knights and Lord Reginald of Sidon finally broke-through the surrounding enemy, charging east toward the Lake of Tiberius.  The Christian infantry that had not fled up the slopes tried to follow in the wake of the cavalry, but the Saracens under the command of one of Saladin’s nephews stepped aside to let the armored knights through and then closed ranks again, cutting off the Christian infantry that was cut down or taken captive.

By now it was late afternoon, and with the infantry either already slaughtered or refusing to come down from the hilltop, King Guy ordered his knights to retreat up the slope as well. At this stage, many of the knights were fighting on foot because their horses had been killed after the infantry cover was withdrawn.  It was probably at this point in the battle that the relic, believed to be a piece of the cross on which Christ was crucified, was lost. The Bishop of Acre, who had been carrying it, was killed. The loss of this most precious relic — believed to have brought victory in dozens of earlier battles — was devastating to Christian morale.

The final stages of the Battle of Hattin as depicted in the film “The Kingdom of Heaven”

But still, King Guy did not surrender.  The few knights who were still mounted made one (or two) last desperate charge(s) to try to kill Saladin, who was mounted and clearly identifiable among his troops.  One of these charges was probably lead by Balian d’Ibelin. One charge came close enough to Saladin for him to have to shout encouragement to his men.  While Ibelin and his knights were able to cut through the enemy, like Tripoli before them, they enemy rapidly closed ranks behind them.  They found they had no means of fighting their way back up-hill to relieve the infantry. Within minutes, King Guy’s last position was over-run and he along with most of his barons were taken prisoner.

Of the roughly 20,000 Christian soldiers who had set out from Sephorie, only an estimated 3,000 infantry managed somehow to escape into the surrounding countryside and eventually take refuge in the castles and walled towns then still in Frankish hands. Of the 1,200 knights and barons that mustered for the battle, only four barons, Tripoli, Sidon, Edessa, and Ibelin, escaped capture along with maybe 100 - 200 knights. The remainder including the King of Jerusalem, the Masters of the Temple and Hospital, the Constable Aimery de Lusignan, the Lords of Oultrajourdain, Toron, Gibelet, and others — effectively the entire nobility of the Kingdom of Jerusalem — were taken captive. While the majority of these lords and knights were held for ransom, the 230 Templars and Hospitallers that survived the battle were executed at Saladin’s orders. 

Medieval painting of prisoners being led away (here by a Christian king)

Hattin is a major episode in the second book of my Balian d'Ibelin trilogy, "Defender of Jerusalem." The ebook is on sale for just $4.99 through July 4, 2016.  Buy Now!

True Tales of the Knights Templar 6: The Battle of Hattin

+Real Crusades History+ is dedicated to remembering the real contribution of the Knights Templar to the history of the crusades. 

Dr. Schrader continues our fifteen-part series on the Knights Templar with the sixth of our "Ten True Tales of the Knights Templar."  Today's essay looks at the role of the Templar Master and the Knights Templar at the Battle of Hattin 1187.

The devastating defeat of the combined Christian army at the Battle of Hattin on July 4, 1187, was one of the most significant disasters in medieval military history.  Christian casualties at the battle were so enormous, that the defense of the rest of the Kingdom of Jerusalem became impossible, and so the defeat at Hattin led directly to the loss of the entire kingdom including Jerusalem itself.

However, there was nothing inevitable about this defeat. Saladin had invaded the Kingdom of Jerusalem four times previously ― and each time the feudal army of Jerusalem, commanded by King Baldwin IV, sent him back across the Jordan with a (figurative) bloody nose. Indeed, his first invasion in 1177 had resulted in a devastating and humiliating defeat (See: Ten True Tales ofthe Knights Templar 3: The Battle of Montgisard). To be sure, subsequent encounters had been less decisive and throughout the decade between 1177 and 1187 Saladin had consolidated his own power over Syria while retaining his hold on Egypt. In consequence, the invading army of 1187 was the largest Saladin had yet assembled, numbering an estimated 40,000 troops (France, p.82), but still it was not invincible. The Christians could field slightly over 20,000 men (France, p.81), and had often won battles with much more disadvantageous odds more than once in the past.

The primary difference between 1177 and 1187 was not the composition of the armies nor their numbers, but the leadership. On the Saracen side, Saladin remained but he had learned many lessons in the subsequent ten years of conflict with the crusaders; he was wily and determined, but not inherently unbeatable.  On the Christian side, however, Baldwin IV had passed away to be replaced by a usurper and parvenu, Guy de Lusignan.

Lusignan had demonstrated fatal indecisiveness four years earlier during the 1183 invasion by Saladin, when he had commanded the feudal army as King Baldwin’s regent during the latter’s illness.  Lusignan’s poor leadership had resulted in a revolt by the barons of Jerusalem, who flatly refused to submit to his military leadership again. King Baldwin IV had been forced to take up the reins of government, crown his nephew Baldwin as his co-king, and lay down a complicated procedure for electing the next king ― to prevent the unpopular husband of his sister (Guy de Lusignan) from becoming king in the event his nephew died without heirs.

In 1185 King Baldwin IV died and was succeeded by his eight-year-old nephew Baldwin V. But on the boy king’s death a year later, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar played a decisive role in helping the detested Guy de Lusignan and his wife Sibylla to usurp the crown of Jerusalem without the consent of the High Court ― a constitutional necessity.

The Grand Master at this time was a certain Gerard de Ridefort. Ridefort was a knight of Flemish or Anglo-Norman ancestry, who in 1179 had risen to the position of Marshal of the Kingdom of Jerusalem ― a secular title ― presumably due to the influence of Count Raymond of Tripoli.  A year later, however, he fell out with Tripoli, allegedly because the Count reneged on a promise to give him an heiress to wife. According to contemporary accounts, Ridefort was particularly insulted because the heiress in question went instead to a Pisan merchant, i.e. a  man of inferior social status, a class of men that Ridefort “despised as usurers and merchants.” (Barber, p. 110)  Whatever the reason, it was only afterwards that Ridefort joined the Knights Templar yet by 1183 he was already seneschal of the order. He was elected Grand Master in early 1185, and just over a year later, when Baldwin V died, Ridefort threw his weight behind Sibylla and Guy de Lusignan.  He allegedly sealed off Jerusalem with Templar troops to prevent the majority of the barons (who opposed Lusignan) from entering the Holy City with their men. He then bullied the Master of the Hospital into giving up the key to the royal treasury to enable a coronation to take place.

So Sibylla and Guy were crowned and anointed without the consent of the High Court of Jerusalem, making them usurpers.  Although the majority of the barons caved-in and were prepared to accept the fait accompli, two important barons refused. Baldwin, Baron of Ramla and Mirabel, preferred to abdicate his titles in favor of his small son and leave the kingdom rather than pay homage to Lusignan. Raymond of Tripoli likewise refused to do homage to Guy and withdrew to his wife’s lands of Galilee.  

According to Barber, Ridefort urged Lusignan to take up arms to force Tripoli to do homage.  Tripoli responded by concluding a defensive pact with Saladin.  This, of course, was outright treason, and Ridefort was more vocal than ever in urging Lusignan to attack Tripoli ― even though this meant civil war and would have invited a Saracen invasion (Barber, p. 111). It is hard to fathom from this distance in time how irritation over a broken promise could lead the Grand Master of the Knights Templar to be willing to put the Holy Land at risk merely in order to attack his former mentor.

Fortunately, due to the intervention of Balian d’Ibelin (Barber, p.111), it was agreed that, instead of confrontation, reconciliation between Lusignan and Tripoli should be attempted. The Grand Masters of the Hospital and the Templars along with the Archbishop of Tyre and Ibelin himself set out for Tripoli on a mission of peace.  Unfortunately, Tripoli had already given a safe-conduct to a reconnaissance patrol commanded by Saladin’s son al-Afdal. Although Tripoli warned the emissaries about the patrol and urged them to avoid it, Ridefort did the opposite.

Why? Was it a knee-jerk reaction to do the opposite of anything Tripoli suggested? Or did the Grand Master of the Knights Templar feel it was against his vows to allow a Saracen reconnaissance patrol unchallenged access to the Kingdom of Jerusalem? I find it easy to sympathize with the latter sentiment.

In any case, Ridefort called up nearby Templar garrisons who joined with the royal garrison from Nazareth to form a force of 140 knights, 90 of which were Templars. Just north of the Springs of Cresson, this small body of Franks made contact with the al-Afdal’s reconnaissance patrol. It is unclear just how large the Saracen force was. Some sources suggest it was 7,000 riders. Even if it was one tenth that, the Franks were hopelessly outnumbered.  The Hospitaller Grand Master Roger des Moulins and the Templar Marshal James de Mailly recognized that discretion was the better part of valor and advised against engagement. Ridefort responded with insults ― calling his fellow knights cowards. This had the “desired” effect of forcing the charge ― with the result that the entire Christian force was massacred. There were allegedly only three survivors. Unfortunately, indeed tragically, Ridefort was one of them.

 

Given the extreme shortage of knights in the Kingdom of Jerusalem. (At no time could it muster more than 1,200 knights), the loss of 137 knights was a disaster. If Ridefort had at least paid the price of his folly, the Templars would have been able to elect a new Grand Master, but Ridefort’s survival ensured that this embittered, hot-head remained in his position, commanding the unquestionable obedience of all Knights Templar.

Before the Templars could receive reinforcements to replace the men so callously sacrificed at the Spring of Cresson, Saladin invaded the Kingdom with an army roughly 40,000 strong and seized control of the city of Tiberias ― Tripoli’s city ― trapping the Countess of Tripoli in the citadel. King Guy dutifully called up the feudal army of Jerusalem. Significantly, the Count of Tripoli had reconciled with Guy and brought the largest contingent of secular troops to that muster. But the Kingdom remained desperately short of troops. Ridefort, in blatant violation of the Templar obligation to treat money deposited with them by third parties as inviolate, handed over money deposited with the Templars by King Henry II of England to Guy de Lusignan so he could hire mercenaries.

On July 2, 1187 the Christian army mustered at Sephoria and a council of war was held to determine the strategy for the campaign.  Sephorie was only some 15 miles to the west of Tiberius, and pleas for help from the Countess naturally elicited a response from the Christian army, most notably the Countess’ four grown sons, Tripoli’s step-sons.  But the Count of Tripoli himself warned that it was a trap and opposed the decision to go to the aid of Tiberius. Tripoli’s reasoning convinced the majority of his peers and the council of war composed of the leading barons agreed to stay where they were and force Saladin to come to them.

Ridefort, however, went separately and secretly to King Guy after the council dispersed and convinced Guy de Lusignan to order the advance for the following day. There were no surviving witnesses to that fateful conversation. We do not know what arguments Ridefort used ― or indeed why he was so set upon the advance, although various chroniclers have imagined what might have been said. One account suggests that Ridefort called Tripoli a traitor and suggested he wanted Lusignan to be “shamed” and so “lose the kingdom.” (Barber, p. 112) But other accounts suggest instead that Ridefort blackmailed Lusignan, threatening him if he did not act as Ridefort wanted, he would lose Templar support. According to Barber, one of the contemporary chroniclers wrote: “The King dared not contradict him, ‘for he [the king] loved and feared him [Ridefort] because he had made him king, and handed over to him the treasure of the King of England.” (Barber, p. 113.)

Lusignan’s motives seem clear. He feared to contradict Ridefort, feared that he would be shamed if he didn’t act (as he had failed to act in 1184 and been roundly condemned by his peers), and didn’t trust the Count of Tripoli. But why did Ridefort want to attack, when prudence suggested staying near water and forcing Saladin to operate at the end of his lines of supply?

Was this the same bravado that had inspired Ridefort to attack 700 (or 7,000) Saracens with a tiny force of 120 just two months earlier? Had he learned nothing from the slaughter of his brothers at the Springs of Cresson? Was this just fanatical determination to do the opposite of anything Tripoli suggested, even if it was madness? Was this a misconceived notion of “Templar” duty to attack, attack, attack ― regardless of the consequences or cost? Or did Gerard de Ridefort fear that if he failed to attack and win a great victory, the mighty King of England would have his hide for stealing his money? Did he need action (victory or death) to justify that theft?

We will never know.

What happened was a disaster. (For details see: Hattin) Of the roughly 20,000 Christian soldiers who had set out from Sephoria, only an estimated 3,000 infantry managed somehow to escape into the surrounding countryside and eventually take refuge in the castles and walled towns then still in Christian hands. Of the 1,200 knights and barons that mustered for the battle, only four barons, Tripoli, Sidon, Edessa and Ibelin, escaped capture along with maybe 100 - 200 knights. The remainder including the King of Jerusalem, the Masters of the Temple and Hospital, the Constable Aimery de Lusignan, the Lords of Oultrajourdain, Toron, Gibelet, and others — effectively the entire nobility of the Kingdom of Jerusalem ― were taken captive.

Yet the highest price was paid by Ridefort’s brothers. The men he was supposed to love and care for. Of the estimated 600 knights of the militant orders, 230 survived the two-day battle to be taken prisoner.  These men were then publically executed at Saladin’s orders in a spectacle that has rightly earned revulsion. Imad ad-Din writes:

…[T]he Sultan sought out the Templars and Hospitallers who had been captured and said: ‘I will purify the land of these two impure races.’ He assigned fifty dinar to every man who had taken one of them prisoner, and immediately the army brought forward at least a hundred of them. He ordered that they should be beheaded…With him was a whole band of scholars and Sufis and a certain number of devout men and ascetics; each begged to be allowed to kill one of them….There were some who slashed and cut cleanly…some who made fools of themselves.” (Gabrieli, p. 138.)

Thus the only Templar to survive Hattin was Ridefort himself.  And he, rather than honor the Templar Rule as his predecessor Odo de St. Amand had done, allowed himself to be ransomed! He would not die until he made yet another foolish and ill-advised charge (that again cost the lives of many of his brothers) during the siege of Acre.

No one, note even Guy de Lusignan, bears more blame for the catastrophe of Hattin than Gerard de Ridefort, but that should not obliterate the memory of the roughly 400 Templars who died for their faith and the Holy Land under his disastrous leadership.

Sources:

France, John. Hattin. Oxford University Press, 2015.

Barber, Malcolm. The New Knighthood: A History of the Order of the Temple.

Cambridge University Press, 1994.

Gabrieli, Francesco. Arab Historians of the Crusades. University of California Press, 1969.

The events leading up to and following the Battle of Hattin are described in detail in Defender of Jerusalem.

Dr. Helena P. Schrader holds a PhD in History.

She is the Chief Editor of the Real Crusades History Blog.

She is an award-winning novelist and author of numerous books both fiction and non-fiction. Her three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin won a total of 14 literary accolades. Her most recent release is a novel about the founding of the crusader Kingdom of Cyprus. You can find out more at: http://crusaderkingdoms.com

5 Epic Battles of the Knights Templar

Today on Real Crusades History, we’ll be exploring five of the most epic and noteworthy battles in the history of the Knights Templar.

#1: The Battle of Montgisard

In late November, 1177, a large Crusader army had accompanied Count Philip of Flanders on an expedition north of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, into Syria, to attack the Saracen fortress of Hama. Saladin, the powerful Sultan of Egypt and Damascus, took advantage of the Crusader kingdom’s reduced forces to invade with a large army some 26,000 strong. The King of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV, was only sixteen years old, and also stricken with leprosy. Nevertheless, the young King would not let Saladin’s attack go unchallenged, mustering a small army of just five hundred knights and four thousand infantry. The young leper King was joined by Raynald of Chatillon, as well as Odo of Saint-Amand, Master of the Knights Templar, accompanied by some eighty Templar knights.

            Saladin did not believe such a tiny force of Christians should be considered a threat, and so marched at his leisure on Jerusalem, allowing his army to spread out across the countryside and pillage the Kingdom’s farmlands. Meanwhile, King Baldwin, the Templars, and the knights of the Kingdom closed in on Saladin’s army, encountering the enemy at Montgisard, near the city of Ramla.

Saladin was taken by surprise; his forces were in a vulnerable position attempting to cross a river. The young King immediately ordered a charge, and the Templars were at the forefront of the attack. Odo of Saint Amand led the Templars in several charges, which smashed Saladin’s forces. The Templars’ skills as cavalry warriors proved highly valuable that day, as almost the whole of Saladin’s army was wiped out. Saladin himself barely escaped, having to flee for his life on a racing camel.

Montgisard proved to be one of the greatest defeats of Saladin’s life, and a shining moment for King Baldwin IV, the knights of Jerusalem, and the Templars.  

#2: The Battle of Hattin

On June 30, 1187, Saladin once again invaded the Kingdom of Jerusalem; his army was massive, numbering 30,000 men. To incite the Crusaders into a battle, Saladin attacked Tiberias.

            The King of Jerusalem, Guy of Lusignan, marched out with a smaller but considerable army of 20,000, including a large contingent of Knights Templar. Although the other high ranking men of the army advised against it, Guy listened to the advice of the Master of the Temple, Gerard of Ridefort, who suggested an immediate attack on Saladin. The Crusaders made a forced march across scorching dry territory toward Tiberias. But when they tried to reach the Springs of Kafr Hattin, Saladin’s army intercepted them, forcing them to lay camp on the arid plateau. By morning the Crusaders were entirely surrounded by Saladin’s army, and Saladin launched his attack. The Crusaders suffered heavy casualties from Saladin’s archers and cavalry. But despite being outnumbered, exhausted and thirsty, the Crusaders fought with incredible vigor, and several times the Christian knights threw back Saladin’s attacks. The Templars were instrumental in this resistance, and fought with fierce spirit and courage. Indeed, the Saracen chronicler Ibn al-Athir tells us that Saladin, watching the battle unfold before him, was very nervous, tugging at his beard with anxiety as he watched the Templars and the other Crusaders repeatedly hurl the Saracen troops back.

            Nevertheless, the superior numbers of Saladin’s forces finally prevailed and the Crusaders were defeated. It was a devastating loss for the Kingdom. Saladin was so afraid of the Knights Templar that he had every Templar prisoner captured at the Battle of Hattin executed immediately.

            Despite their defeat at Hattin, the Templars once again showed themselves to be brilliant warriors, who fought with fierce determination even in the most desperate of situations.

            For our next battle, we’ll move to the Iberian Peninsula, specifically Portugal:

#3: The Siege of Tomar

The castle of Tomar, built in 1160, was the headquarters of the Knights Templar in Portugal for many years. In the late twelfth century, a powerful Moroccan Berber dynasty, the Almohads, ruled over much of North Africa. They also controlled most of those portions of southern Spain still under Mohammedan rule.

            In 1190, the Almohad Caliph, al-Mansur, crossed the River Tejo and invaded the Kingdom of Portugal. The Almohads captured the castle of Torres Novas, then moved on Tomar, which they put to siege.

            Gualdim Pais, Grand Master, led the Templar garrison in defense of their fortress. Despite being impossibly outnumbered, the Templars held out for six days. Gualdim was around seventy years old at the time, and a long-time veteran of the Crusades both in Iberia and in the Holy Land. The Almohads made several assaults on the walls, but each time they were repulsed by the Templars. Finally, the Almohads managed to breach the fortress gates, but Gualdim led his knights in a counterattack, which devastated the Almohad troops. So heavy were the Almohad casualties during this attack that from then on the entrance to Tomar was known as “The Gate of Blood”.

            At this point al-Mansur gave up his attack, withdrawing his troops and abandoning the siege. Tomar remained in Christian hands. The valor and determination of Gualdim Pais and his Templars had won the day.  

            For our next battle, let’s return to the Crusades in the Holy Land:

#4: The Battle of Arsuf

Following Saladin’s victory at Hattin, Richard the Lionheart, King of England, led a Crusade to the Holy Land to beat back the Saracen advance. After recapturing the wealthy coastal city of Acre from Saladin in the summer of 1191, Richard marched his forces south down the Palestinian coast, placing the Knights Templar at the head of the army.

            Saladin was desperate to stop Richard’s advance, and so, as Richard’s army approached Arsuf on September 7th, Saladin attacked with full force. Once again, the Crusaders, with an army of under 12,000 troops, were outnumbered; Saladin had a host of 25,000. Nevertheless, Richard’s formation was solid and impenetrable. The Knights Hospitaller, who made up the rearguard, charged early, but Richard took advantage of the situation, and ordered a general charge, which crushed Saladin’s troops. The Templars, under their new Grand Master, Robert de Sable, played a key role in the battle, delivering some of the most devastating charges. Saladin was utterly defeated, losing thousands of troops. Richard and the Crusaders won the day, occupying Arsuf, and going on to take the important coastal city of Jaffa as well.

Once again, Templar cavalry tactics had proved very useful in the heat of battle.

            For our last battle, we’ll again head to Spain:

#5: The Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa

In the summer of 1212, the Almohad Caliph, Muhammad al-Nasir, gathered an enormous army of some 25,000 troops and marched north out of Seville, intent on invading the Christian Kingdom of Castile with its capital in Toledo. Meanwhile, Pope Innocent III had proclaimed a Crusade in Spain to counter al-Nasir. Christian knights from virtually every corner of the Iberian Peninsula gathered in Toledo under King Alfonso VIII of Castile, King Pedro II of Aragon, and King Sancho VII of Navarre. Included in this Crusader coalition was a considerable contingent of Knights Templar under their Grand Master, Gomes Ramires, who was Portuguese.

            The Crusaders marched south and the two armies met on July 14^th at Las Navas de Tolosa. On the morning of July 16^th, the battle began. The Templars and other military orders were in the front lines, and closed quickly with the Almohad troops. The fighting was fierce, and the Templars suffered some of the heaviest casualties on the Christian side. However, the Aragonese and Navaresse contingents, which made up the Christian right and left flanks, carried out a pincer movement that threw the Moors into disarray. A series of cavalry charges now shattered the Almohad army, and the Christian victory was total. Thousands of Almohad troops were slain, and the Caliph himself barely escaped with his life. The Templar Grand Master, Gomes Ramires, was one of the few Christina casualties, since he and his brother Templars had been among the first warriors to ride into battle; they died helping to win an incredible victory for the Iberian Crusade, which led to the collapse of Moorish power in Spain.

King Henry's Treasure

Henry II of England is one of England’s most colorful, fascinating and controversial kings.  He is usually remembered for forging the Angevin Empire, for his tempestuous relationship with his strong-willed and powerful queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, for the murder of Thomas Becket, and – among more serious scholars – for laying the foundations of English Common Law. But he is not remembered as a crusader. Today Dr. Schrader looks at Henry II's ambivalent relationship with the Crusader States.

Henry II's Effigy on his Tomb at Frontevralt.

Although Henry II took crusader vows, he never actually went to the Holy Land. Indeed, most historians credit Henry II with disdaining crusading in preference to building an empire at home. Certainly, his refusal to accept the keys of the Holy Sepulchre from the Patriarch of Jerusalem in 1185, reflected a preference for holding on to what he had over seeking glory and salvation “beyond the sea” in “Outremer.”

Yet a focus on Henry’s legacy in the West obscures the fact that his ties to the Holy Land were much closer than is commonly remembered. First of all, his grandfather, Fulk d’Anjou, had turned over his inheritance to his son Geoffrey in order to go to the Holy Land and marry the heiress to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, Melisende. Geoffrey d’Anjou was thus the half-brother of Kings Baldwin III (reigned 1143 – 1162) and Amalaric I (1162-1174) of Jerusalem. This made Henry II first cousin to the ill-fated Baldwin IV of Jerusalem. 

The Arms of the Kingdom of Jerusalem

Baldwin IV suffered from leprosy and could not sire an heir. As his condition worsened and the armies of Saladin drew stronger, he looked desperately for a successor capable of defending his inheritance. He did not see this either in his five year old nephew, or in the husbands of his sisters. It is before this incipient succession crisis, with Saladin beating the drums of jihad at his doorstep, that the mission of the Patriarch of Jerusalem and the Grand Masters of the Knights Templar and Knights Hospitaller of 1185 must be seen. Baldwin IV sent these emissaries to offer the keys to the Holy Sepulchre and the Tower of David first to Philip II of France and then to Henry II of England. By all accounts, Baldwin’s real hopes lay with Henry II – a powerful monarch, who had proved his abilities on the battlefield again and again. The Patriarch’s plea was for Henry II – or one of his sons – to come to Jerusalem and, implicitly, take the crown itself. Baldwin IV, many historians believe, wanted Henry II to end the succession crisis and restore the House of Anjou in the East.

The Tower of David in Jerusalem, Seat of the Kings of Jerusalem

Henry II, as I noted above, declined to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and surrender his hereditary lands for the Kingdom of Jerusalem. But he was far from indifferent to the fate of his cousin or the Holy Land. As early as 1172, when Henry II had become reconciled with the Church for his role in the murder of Thomas Becket, he had taken the cross and started accumulating “large sums” of money in Jerusalem. This money, historian Malcolm Barber writes in The Crusader States, (Yale University Press, New Haven, 2012) was “intended for use when he eventually traveled to the East.” In 1182, Henry II made a will which left an additional 5,000 marks silver to both the Knights Templar and the Knights Hospitaller for the defense of the Holy Land, and another 5,000 marks was bequeathed for the general “defense of the Holy Land.” That is a total of 15,000 marks silver, an enormous sum, which he intended for the defense of the Holy Land.

Manuscript Illustration of a 12^th Century King

Since he did not die in 1182, this money never reached the crusader kingdom, but three years later, although Henry felt he dare not leave his kingdom (at a time when the French King and his sons were trying to tear it apart), he did agree to a special tax (often referred to as the “Saladin Tax”) the proceeds of which were also to go to the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

Finally, when the news reached him in 1187 of the fall of Jerusalem and the desperate straits of the Kingdom, Henry II again took a crusader vow. While many historians (and even more novelists) disparage this as a ploy, it is just as possible that he was sincere – so long as those who coveted his kingdom and threatened his crown, Philip II of France and his son Richard – went on crusade with him! We will never know how sincere his intentions were because he died before the Third Crusade got underway.

Meanwhile, however, his treasure had already played a crucial role in the history of Jerusalem. There are no figures for just how large King Henry’s treasure was, but it was undoubtedly more than the 15,000 silver marks mentioned in his will of 1182 because there had been money deposited prior to this, and the “Saladin Tax” that came afterwards. Significantly, the money had been entrusted to the militant orders for safe keeping. This means that the money could be deposited in London, and paid out in Jerusalem through the networks of the Templars and Hospitallers. Furthermore, based on the testament of 1182, it would appear that Henry carefully distributed the funds between the two militant orders, rather than favoring one over the other. This, unintentionally, resulted in his treasure having two very different uses.

In 1187, as Saladin prepared to launch an all-out offensive against the Christian kingdom of Jerusalem, King Guy had little choice but to call-up a levee en masse to put the largest force possible in the way of the invaders. Against a force of 45,000 including some 12,000 cavalry, King Guy could muster only about 1,000 knights, 4,000 light horse and some 15,000 infantry. In light of this, the Grand Master of the Templars, Gerard de Ridefort, handed over King Henry’s treasure to finance more fighting men. It is unclear from the sources whether these were mercenaries, light troops, or, as some say, the outfitting of 200 additional knights. In any case, Henry II’s money helped contribute to the army that marched out to meet Saladin – and was destroyed on the Horns of Hattin on July 4, 1187.

There are even some historians who postulate that it was because the Templar Grand Master had taken King Henry's money without authorization that made the Master so urge King Guy to advance toward Tiberias rather than wait at the Springs of Sephorie. The reasoning is that if the Frankish army just waited at Sephorie, the Grand Master would find it difficult to justify his illegal misappropriation of funds, but if there was a glorious victory over Saladin, Henry II would either forgive him or not dare to criticize. It this thesis is correct, than it could be said that the theft of King Henry's funds by Gerard de Ridefort led to the disaster at Hattin. 

Leaving that speculation aside and turning to the second half of Henry's treasure, the Grand Master of the Hospitallers, however, did not release King Henry’s treasure in advance of the Battle of Hattin. The money Henry II had deposited with the Hospitallers for the Holy Land was still in Jerusalem when the city surrendered to Saladin in October 1187. The terms of the surrender allowed the residents 40 days to raise a ransom of 10 dinars per man, 5 dinars per woman and 2 dinars per child. Those who failed to pay the ransom, became slaves by right of conquest at the end of the 40 days.

At the time these terms were negotiated, the Christian defender of Jerusalem, Balian d’Ibelin, knew that there were some 40,000 (some sources say 100,000) Latin Christian refugees in the city.  He knew that many of these were destitute, having lost all they owned to Saladin already. They were in no position to pay their ransom. Ibelin therefore negotiated the release of 18,000 poor for a lump sum of 30,000 dinars. 

Sources differ, however, on where this money came from. Some suggest that it came from King Henry’s treasure, but others suggest the initial sum was paid from the treasury of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, but that it soon became evident that there were many more poor in the city than Ibelin had estimated – or had the resources to ransom. (He’d lost all his lands to Saladin already too.) It was at this juncture, they say, that the Hospitallers handed over King Henry’s treasure to ransom as many of the poor as they could. In the end, even King Henry’s treasure was not enough and some 15,000 Christians were sold into slavery. Nevertheless, King Henry of England played an important role in ransoming thousands of Christians trapped in Jerusalem, minimizing the number sold into slavery. His son, of course, played an even greater role in rescuing the Kingdom from complete obliteration, but that is another story….

Dr Helena P. Schrader holds a PhD in History.

She is the Chief Editor of the Real Crusades History Blog.

She is the author of numerous books both fiction and non-fiction, including a three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin.