King & Crusader: Richard the Lionheart

The Man & the Myth – The “Virtuous Pagan” –  Audita tremendi: The Third Crusade – Adventures in Sicily & Cyprus – The Siege of Acre – Eastern Politics – The Battle of Arsuf – Jerusalem Unconquered – The Battle of Jaffa – The Treaty of Jaffa – Richard in Chains – Brotherly Squabbles – War with France – The Archer at Chalus

King Richard I has gone down in history as “Richard the Lionheart,” a nickname won by his skill and knightly prowess in the Third Crusade. Though he has become the hero of numerous romantic legends, modern historians have been divided in their assessment of his kingship and person. One must not overlook his squabbles with his father and his sour treatment of his youngest brother John (when John had nothing and Richard everything, Richard vehemently opposed sharing land with his brother). As to his abilities as king, we must note that he spent only six months in England during his ten years as king: from the crusades to his imprisonment and then to war against France, he spent little time in his island kingdom. Furthermore, he likely viewed England as nothing more than a cash cow to fund his adventures. “I would sell London itself if only I could find a rich enough buyer,” he said, and he proved the mettle of his words in his neglectful treatment of England: in order to fund his part in the Third Crusade, he spent most of his father’s treasury, instituted the “Saladin Tithe”, and even freed William the Lion of Scotland from his allegiance to England for a measly 10,000 marks. 

Historians who harp upon his neglect of England paint him in a bad light, but other historians focus on his skill and renown in battle: he’d had training in the art of war when squashing a rebellion in Poitou in the 1170s and in his successful rebellion against his father on the eve of Henry II’s reign. His exploits in the Holy Land have garnished him remarkable praise; as historian Peter Tsouras notes, “Not since Alexander the Great had an army been led by a king who was without doubt the deadliest man in the entire host.” A modern composite of Richard might paint him as a clever, clear-sighted man with one goal in mind: to win fame and renown by bloodying his sword, and to use all his resources to accomplish that aim. His chief concern wasn’t securing the Holy Land but securing his name in history, and England wasn’t his to lead but his to exploit in order to achieve his self-centered ambitions.

Richard’s coronation took place on 3 September 1189 at Westminster Abbey, and when a bat zigzagged around his head, many saw it as an ill omen. He had grown up on the Continent, in England’s western French territories, and he didn’t even speak English—he wasn’t the oldest of his father’s sons, and thus he didn’t expect to take the English throne; what point would there be to learning a foreign language when his future lie in English-controlled France? He much preferred the French countryside to the climate of England, complaining that England was always “cold and rainy.” Chroniclers tell us that he was six feet four inches tall with long legs and an athletic build (though he would grow stouter in his later years). Having spent much of his life in Eleanor’s court, he had grown fond of poetry, music, and elegant clothing. He had gray eyes and, like the Plantagenets, red hair and a matching red temper. Many historians believe he was bisexual: he had a strained and much-absent relationship with his wife, Berengaria of Navarre, and the two didn’t have children (though he did sire at least one illegitimate son, Phillip of Cognac). Though this in itself doesn’t strike any bells, Richard contested against rumors of homosexuality throughout his life, and he once did penance for the sin of sodomy. 

Though he had rebelled against Henry II and made war against his supporters, upon taking the throne Richard gave respect and honor to those who had supported his father. He ordered his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, to be released from the captivity imposed upon her by her late husband, and he nominated his illegitimate brother Geoffrey to be Archbishop of York (the second highest archbishopric in England, after Canterbury). Geoffrey had been made Bishop of Lincoln in 1173 and had assisted in Henry II’s campaign against William the Lion; he resigned as bishop in 1182 and became his father’s chancellor. Geoffrey’s archbishopric wouldn’t be easy: he liked to excommunicate those he didn’t like, and he fell afoul with the Pope. When the disgruntled Pope summoned him to Rome, Geoffrey refused to go and was consequently suspended from office. Geoffrey looked to Richard for help, and though at first Richard patiently listened to his brother’s complaints, the king’s pride got the best of him when Geoffrey sidestepped into a brunt condemnation of Richard’s immorality and summoned him to repentance. Richard, enraged by Geoffrey’s breach of reverence, confiscated his estates and exiled him from his court. 

Salah ad-Din: a modern portrait

Before taking the throne, Richard had promised to fight in the Holy Land, and he began at once procuring the funds needed to get his army to Palestine. He instituted the aforementioned Saladin Tithe, drained England’s treasury, made backroom deals with England’s enemies, and sold sheriffdoms and other offices to those with the money and greed to buy them. Richard wasted no time, for time wasn’t something he had: the Holy Land was all but lost, due to an Ayyubid warlord named Yusuf who went by the honorific epithet “Salah ad-Din”, which means “Righteousness of the Faith”, and known to westerners as Saladin. Saladin, like Richard, has gone down in history because of his generosity and religiosity; many westerners have put this Muslim warlord on a pedestal, and Dante set him alongside Hector, Aeneas, and Caesar as a “virtuous pagan.” After gaining control of Muslim-controlled Egypt and being named vizier, Saladin was gripped by a life-threatening illness. Once he recuperated he decided to make good on his political propaganda as the champion of Islam and launched a campaign against the Christians in the Holy Land. Guy de Lusignon, the King of Jerusalem (who was king not only of Jerusalem but of all the crusader-held cities in the Levant) responded to Saladin’s movements by raising the largest army Jerusalem had ever fielded. Saladin baited Guy’s force into inhospitable terrain, surrounded them with his larger army, and annihilated them at the Battle of Hattin (4 July 1187), capturing Guy in the rout. Saladin sent messengers to all the Christian-held territories in the Holy Land, announcing that he was en route and giving the Christians two options: they could stay where they were and live in peace under Islamic rule, or they could take a 40-days grace period to pack their belongings and head west. Saladin’s proposal worked, and many crusader-held cities opened their gates to Saladin’s forces. In late September Saladin fell upon the queen jewel of the Levant, and after a 10-day siege Jerusalem fell; now Saladin’s territory stretched from the Nile to the Euphrates. Though the crusaders had slaughtered Jerusalem’s inhabitants after conquering the city in the First Crusade, Saladin showed leniency: he didn’t go on a killing spree, and he allowed the Jerusalem Christians to pay a cheap ransom for their freedom (10 denari for men, 5 for women, and 1 for children); nevertheless many of the poorer Christians couldn’t afford even that, and around 15,000 were put in chains. All of the Holy Land had capitulated to Saladin except for the city of Tyre, held by Conrad of Montferrat. Conrad’s resistance to Saladin’s overtures would be a thorn in the side of his ambitions—and a gateway for Christian re-conquest. Rumor has it that upon receiving word of the fall of Jerusalem, Pope Urban III died of heartbreak on 19 October 1187. His successor, Pope Gregory VIII, issued a papal bull called Audita tremendi, proposing a further crusade (later dubbed “The Third”) to oust Saladin’s forces from Jerusalem. 

Before going head-to-head with Saladin, Richard did all he could to make sure England would be safe in his absence. His biggest fear was that his youngest and only surviving legitimate brother John would continue their brotherly squabbles and attempt to usurp the throne. He decided to try and buy John off by making him the Count of Mortain. John’s holdings expanded greatly in August when he married Isabella, Countess of Gloucester (a marriage organized by Henry II); John received lands in Lancaster, along with the counties of Cornwall, Derby, Devon, Dorset, Nottingham, and Somerset. John found himself with a lot of wealth and territory in England, but as king Richard kept control of key castles in John’s fiefs so as to prevent his brother gaining too much political and military clout. Richard extracted a promise from John that he wouldn’t visit England for three years, giving Richard time to conduct his crusade and return home without having to fear his throne being seized (Eleanor later convinced Richard to allow John visitation to England). Richard placed control of England in the hands of two trusted co-justiciars, William Mandeville and Hugh de Puiset. Having secured England against John and from revolt from within, Richard now had to figure out how to keep France from taking advantage of his absence; here he convinced Philip II of France (known as “Augustus”) to join him on crusade. With the French king with him in the East, Richard needn’t fear any major attempts on England and his continental domains.

King Tancred of Sicily

In 1190 the English and their French counterparts departed for the Holy Land, but they stopped en-route to winter at the island of Sicily before continuing on to the Levant. Their winter stay would be far from uneventful: as it so happened, Richard’s sister Joanna, former Queen of Sicily, was being held captive by her widowed husband’s cousin Tancred, who had usurped the Sicilian throne. In 1189 Joanna’s husband, King William II, had died; as heir he had named his aunt Constance, who by marriage to the future Holy Roman Emperor Henry VI would unite the Kingdom of Sicily and the Empire. But William II’s cousin Tancred had a different future in mind: upon the king’s death, Tancred rebelled, seizing control of Sicily. He was crowned king early in 1190; the common Sicilians and the Pope favored his ascension, but the Sicilian nobles hotly opposed it. Tancred imprisoned the widowed Joanna and stole her inheritance. When Richard and his French allies landed in Sicily, he became privy to the events and demanded that Joanna be freed and given her inheritance. The common people, who supported Tancred, didn’t like foreign boots on their soil, and in October 1190 they staged a revolt in Messina and demanded that the foreigners evacuate. Richard was not to be swayed: he attacked and captured Messina on 4 October, looting and burning parts of the city before establishing it as his army’s headquarters. In March 1191 Tancred agreed to a tri-part treaty: (1) Joanna would be released with her inheritance intact, (2) Richard and Philip II would recognize Tancred as the legal King of Sicily and would vow to keep peace between their three kingdoms, and (3) Richard would make his four-year-old nephew Arthur of Brittany his heir to the English throne, with Tancred promising to marry one of his daughters to Arthur when the boy came of age. 

Though the Sicilian Debacle had come to an end, another conflict was arising, this one between Richard and Philip II. Richard had been betrothed to Philip II’s sister Alys since childhood, but word came about that Richard was breaking the engagement to marry Berengaria, the daughter of Sancho VI, King of Navarre. Philip II was furious, but there was nothing he could do. This was the first of many bones of contention that would sprout between the English and French monarchs during Richard’s reign. Richard packed his bags and set sail for the Holy Land, but strong storms forced him to bide his time on the island of Rhodes. Berengaria arrived in Sicily, joined up with Joanna, and the two of them set sail for the East with the intention of rendezvousing with Richard in the Levant. Their small fleet suffered the same setbacks as Richard’s, and a storm forced them to seek refuge on the Greek island of Cyprus. The Cyprians, under the leadership of Isaac Comnenus, the Emperor of Cyprus, besieged the stranded ships. Comnenus raided the beached vessels, claiming all the treasure onboard destined for the Holy Land. Richard received news of the predicament being endured by his fiancé and sister, and from Rhodes he sent a letter to Comnenus, urging him to backtrack from what he’d done. Comnenus made the fatal mistake of ignoring the English king, and Richard could not let this stand. He gathered his army and set sail from Rhodes with one goal in mind: to invade the Greek island, overthrow the emperor, and turn Cyprus into a supply depot and launching pad for his part in the Third Crusade. His fleet arrived in the port city of Lemesos (now Limassol) on 6 May 1191; he captured the city, and when Comnenus approached the city’s gates to oust the English, he realized his forces were vastly outnumbered and fled for Kolossi. Richard summoned the emperor to negotiations, but Comnenus broke the oath of hospitality and demanded that Richard evacuate the island. The two came to blows, and Richard spearheaded a victorious cavalry charge against Comnenus’ forces at the Battle of Tremetusia. Comnenus was sent fleeing yet again, and Cyprus’ scattered Roman Catholics (most Cyprians were Eastern Orthodox) and the island’s nobles allied with the English. Comnenus was able to lead a spirited resistance against the English from the castles of Pentadactylos, but he surrendered after being besieged in his Castle of Kantaras. After a six-day campaign, Richard was now the new ruler of Cyprus, and he inaugurated his reign by looting and massacring those who had resisted him. He turned Cyprus into a depot for the crusade, left a garrison to keep things in order, and placed the government of the island in the hands of Richard Kamvill. Before departing for the Holy Land he married Berengaria on 12 May 1191. 

Having won fame and renown at both Sicily and Cyprus, Richard could now turn his attentions to the biggest challenge—and adventure—of his lifetime: reclaiming the Holy Land for Christ and setting his teeth against Saladin. In June 1191 the English and French forces reached the Muslim-held city of Acre, a port city on the Gulf of Haifa that was protected by large double walls and towers. Crusaders held the city under siege, but the crusaders themselves were besieged by Saladin’s forces, resulting in a “double siege.” The arrival of the French and English forces was a turning-point in the Siege of Acre, which had already lasted for more than two years. Richard inserted himself into Saladin’s unfolding drama, and over the next two years he would deliver a stinging blow to Saladin’s aura of invincibility. 

Guy de Lusignan's defeat at Hattin

Remember: Saladin had captured Guy de Lusignon, the King of Jerusalem, at the Battle of Hattin in 1187, and he had brought all of the Holy Land under his control except for the crusader city of Tyre, which was held by the resolute Conrad of Montferrat. Failing to take Tyre by storm, Saladin turned to diplomacy, offering to exchange Guy for the city. Montferrat refused, for there was bad blood between him and Guy. Guy’s reputation had been spoiled after his defeat and capture at Hattin, but Conrad’s reputation had soared after his defense of Tyre. With Guy in chains, Conrad wanted to be King of Jerusalem (i.e. the Christian ruler of crusader territory in the Levant). Guy’s claim to the throne came through his wife Sibylla; born into the Frankish noble family of the House of Anjou, Sibylla was descended from Fulk V of Anjou, who had made peace with King Henry I of England in order to follow his crusading ambitions. Fulk V had done well in the Holy Land, and after becoming King of Jerusalem in the early 12th century he brought the crusader kingdom to its highest extent. Guy wasn’t willing to cede his claim to the throne, so Conrad lost no sleep in refusing his exchange. Saladin didn’t have much use for Guy after that point, so he released him anyways. Guy, with a ragtag band of forces, pitched camp outside Tyre and awaited European reinforcements answering Pope Gregory VIII’s call for the Third Crusade. The first reinforcements, sent by William II of Sicily and the Archbishop of Pisa, arrived outside Tyre in 1188-1189. These troops aligned with Guy, so Conrad refused to let them into the city. Guy turned his back on Tyre and led them to the Muslim-held port city of Acre, which he would use as a base to launch his counterattack against Saladin. Guy launched an all-out attack on Acre, despite being outnumbered two-to-one; the attack, unsurprisingly, didn’t break through. On 28 August 1189 Guy settled down for a siege, assisted by Sicilian ships blockading Acre’s seaward side. Guy’s besieging forces received trickling reinforcements from Europe, and the Sicilians were relieved by a Danish and Frisian fleet. 

vicious fighting at Acre

Despite being disconcerted over the news of Acre’s besiegement, Saladin didn’t feel the need to lend a helping hand; after all, Acre’s garrison was twice Guy’s size, and it was only a matter of time before the crusaders grew restless and broke off their siege. But when Conrad was moved to provide military aide to Guy’s siege, Saladin—respecting Conrad as a formidable opponent—threw his own cards into play. Saladin struck Guy’s besieging forces on 15 September, but the crusaders repulsed them. Saladin’s forces meandered around Acre, and on 4 October Saladin launched an all-out attack on the besiegers. The Battle of Acre was an inconclusive bloodletting, as he was unable to shove the crusaders out from under the city’s gates. Though victorious, Guy’s army had been all but crippled, and his spirits lifted when he received word that Frederick Barbarossa, the Holy Roman Emperor, was en route to the Levant with a vast army that would put Saladin’s to shame. Saladin knew he would have to dislodge Guy before the imperial reinforcements marched in, so he bolstered his forces and laid siege to Guy’s besiegers. Guy found himself trapped between Muslims in the city and Muslims at his rear, and on the Mediterranean outside Acre, Muslim vessels wrestled with crusader ships to purchase primacy on the water. Whoever controlled the seas around the city controlled the supplies: when the crusaders held sway, Guy received reinforcements and victuals; but when the Muslims had the upper-hand, Acre received supplies. On 5 May 1190 Guy’s forces attacked the city walls but didn’t make any headway. Saladin responded to this attack by launching a massive eight-day assault on the crusaders two weeks later. As Acre had repulsed the crusaders, so the crusaders repulsed Saladin—and all through the summer more reinforcements arrived from Europe to bolster Guy’s army.

But more soldiers and supplies weren’t the only things moving through the crusader camp: disease made its rounds, too. Corpses—both animal and human—poisoned the camp’s water supply. Guy tragically lost his two daughters, and to make it worse he lost his wife, Queen Sibylla, to the sickness. Sibylla’s death was a double blow, as it meant that Guy had lost his claim to the throne of Jerusalem; the legal claim passed down to Sibylla’s younger half-sister Isabella, but Guy would refuse to honor her claim. Conrad didn’t favor Isabella, either, and a succession debate rippled through the crusader camp. The crusaders became divided as the soldiers had to choose one faction—Guy or Conrad?—over the other. Weakened by sickness and dissent, the crusaders suffered another blow under a harsh winter from 1190-1191: bad weather kept supplies and reinforcements arriving by sea. Guy could tell the situation was starting to fall apart (long sieges were delicate things apt to collapse from within), so he launched desperate assaults on Acre on both 31 December 1190 and 6 January 1191. Neither altered the situation. A further blow to the crusader spirit came on 13 February when Saladin attacked the beleaguered besiegers, pushing through their lines and managing to fight his way through to the city walls. Saladin’s troops managed to breach the city and replenish the city’s garrison with fresh and battle-hardened troops. The crusaders managed to seal the break in the wall, but by the time they accomplished this Acre’s bolstered garrison was celebrating their renewed strength. This was the lowest ebb of the crusaders’ siege, but the advent of spring and summer shifted their fortunes: better weather allowed crusader ships to deliver supplies, and the reinforcements from the Holy Roman Empire arrived—though they were far less than promised.

Richard victorious at Acre

The imperial forces were led not by Frederick Barbarossa, as expected, but by Duke Leopold V of Austria. The Emperor had drowned while leading his army across the Saleph River, and much of the imperial forces disintegrated after his death. Duke Leopold took the reigns of the crusading army in the wake of Barbarossa’s death, but the force he brought to bear on the Holy Land was far less than Guy had hoped for. Leopold countered Guy’s disappointment by informing him that more men under King Philip II Augustus of France and King Richard of England were en route, too, and could be expected soon. This news didn’t disappoint: Philip II arrived outside Acre on 20 April. At once the French king ordered the construction of siege engines for assaulting Acre’s walls (the French were preeminent when it came to siege artillery). King Richard arrived on 8 June 1191 with 8000 men. Richard took over Guy’s siege. The siege engines pounded away at Acre’s walls, and a desperate Saladin launched diversionary attacks that gave Acre’s garrison brief windows of time to repair the damage wrought by the artillery. On 3 July the crusaders breached Acre’s walls, but their follow-through attack was spit back out. The artillery kept up its unrelenting work, and seeing no way out, Acre’s garrison opted to surrender on 4 July—but Richard refused their overtures, as he didn’t like the terms. Saladin made one last ditch effort to push the crusaders from outside Acre’s walls on 11 July, but his attack failed. Acre again offered surrender, bringing new terms to Richard. These Richard accepted, and after nearly two long years with numerous battles and skirmishes, the crusaders victoriously entered the city. 

Conrad ordered that the banners of the European rulers who fought so valiantly for the city be hung from the walls, and Acre’s walls were littered with the banners of Jerusalem, England, France, and Austria. Though the banners on the walls signified a coalition of united effort and purpose, inside the walls the European kings succumbed to the intrigues of politics of greed—and Richard was at the forefront of the mess. The European leaders fell out in disagreement over how to divide the spoils of Acre, and Richard ran afoul of the Duke of Austria when he tossed the duke’s banners from the city’s battlements. Enraged at Richard’s disrespect, the duke abandoned the crusade, leaving the French and English on their own. Philip II and Richard had inherited a general hostility between their two kingdoms, a hostility made worse by Richard’s rejection of Alys. The two found another bone of contention: “Who should be made King of Jerusalem?” Neither supported Isabella of Jerusalem, the actual claimant of the throne; as before, the choice came down to Guy de Lusignan or Conrad of Montferrat. The French king supported the latter while Richard supported Guy. To add salt to Philip’s wound, Richard was eclipsing him in the war effort, being hailed as the “Hero of Acre.” Infuriated and at his wits end, and knowing he could hurt Richard from back home, set sail for France on 3 August, leaving Richard as the only major European player in the Third Crusade. The re-conquest of Jerusalem, and the ousting of Saladin from the Holy Land, now rested squarely on Richard’s shoulders—and he took charge with ferocity. He and Saladin tried to negotiate the exchange of Acre’s prisoners, but when Richard became convinced Saladin was delaying the exchange, he ordered all his Muslim prisoners—2700 in all—to be slaughtered. Saladin responded in kind, massacring all his crusader captives. Richard’s slaughter of the prisoners would be a stain on his reputation, but he would more than make up for it in the months to come.

Richard's army nears Arsuf

On 22 August, two days after the execution of his prisoners, Richard departed Acre unencumbered, marching south along the coast to capture the Muslim-held port city of Jaffa. Once Jaffa was in his possession, he could use it as a supply depot for his strike on Jerusalem. Saladin shadowed Richard’s march, harassing his army. Saladin tried to lure the crusaders into an impulsive battle so that he could rip them apart as he had done with Guy at Hattin, but Richard took Guy’s lesson to heart and refused to let his forces respond to Saladin’s hit-and-run attacks. He marched only in the morning, when it was cooler, and pitched camp near water sources. His soldiers were kept in tight formation, and he placed the infantry on the landward side to protect the heavy cavalry and baggage train marching along the coast. On 30 August, near the biblical town of Caesarea, Saladin launched a vicious attack on the English rear. The crusaders became engaged, and they needed help extricating from their predicament. Saladin had hoped they would turn and fight, but seeing his plan spoil, he decided to make a stand near the town of Arsuf, just north of Jaffa. On 7 September 1191, he cemented his army in front of a two mile plain stretching to the coast; his left wing formed up on a line of hills to the south, and his right anchored against the Forest of Arsuf. He would thrust his mobile forces against Richard’s army as they neared Jaffa, striking hard enough to provoke them to counterattack. Once the English forces were engaged, Saladin would push the main body of his troops into the disarrayed crusaders, shoving them out to sea—where they would drown in the Mediterranean. The stage was set for the Battle of Arsuf.

The Knights Templar led Richard’s forces; a spattering of knights held up the center, and the Knights Hospitaller brought up the rear. From their overnight encampment to the plain in front of Saladin’s forces was a six mile stretch, and by 9 AM the two armies were in sight of each other. Saladin opened the first phase of his attack with clashing symbols and gongs, trumpets blasting and mixing with shrieking war-cries. Muslim horse archers darted forward, firing into the flanks of Richard’s army and retreating before the harried infantry. One chronicler reported, “In truth, our people, so few in number, were hemmed in by the multitudes of the Saracens, that they had no means of escape, if they tried; neither did they seem to have valour sufficient to withstand so many foes, nay, they were shut in, like a flock of sheep in the jaws of wolves, with nothing but the sky above, and the enemy all around them.” The horse archers were followed by Bedouin and Nubian missile infantry launching javelins and arrows into the English column before peeling away to give room for the horse archers to advance, loose their arrows, and wheel off to reload. Despite his losses Richard kept his army in tight formation; the town of Arsuf was directly ahead, and he hoped that by the time they reached the city, the Muslims would be worn out; Richard could build a defensive line before the city and lead a counterattack. 

an impulsive counterattack

Around 11 AM Saladin broke off the harassment of Richard’s flanks and focused on the Hospitallers in the rear. Crusader crossbowmen, protected by spearmen, traded volleys with the horse archers and Muslim javelin throwers. The Hospitallers kept up a return fire on their harassers while continuing the steady march towards Arsuf. By mid-afternoon the Hospitallers were dispirited and enraged at their losses, and so many horses had been slain that a number of knights joined the infantry on foot. The weakened rear guard began to lose its formation, and Saladin ordered an all-out attack on their disarrayed lines. The Hospitaller leader, Nablus, requested freedom to lead his knights against the juiced-up attack. Richard refused, but Nablus, hard-pressed and fearing his men would be torn apart before they reached the safety of Arsuf’s walls, mustered his forces and called for a counterattack with six blasts from a trumpet. He and another knight, Baldwin de Carron, lunged forward through the disorganized infantry, screaming “St. George!” and throwing themselves into the Muslim host. Their example inspired the beleaguered Hospitallers, and in one fell swoop the Muslims found themselves in the crosshairs of the knights. Had the horse archers, convinced that the knights wouldn’t attack, not have been dismounted to better aim their arrows, perhaps they could’ve withstood the onslaught; but Nablus’ timing was perfect, and they overran the dismounted horse archers and began driving back the Muslim right. 

Richard was furious that Nablus had blatantly disregarded his orders, but he knew he had to support the attack or risk losing the Hospitallers. Upon entering Arsuf and ordering a defensive position to be made, Richard ordered the Knights Templars, with the support of Breton and Angevin knights, to attack the Muslim left to keep them from reinforcing their right. The Templars were able to pushback Saladin’s left wing; Saladin ordered a counterattack and led it with his guard, but they were repulsed. The Muslim right and left were reeling back, and Richard led his remaining knights against Saladin’s center, shattering the Muslim line and forcing Saladin to retreat. The crusaders gave chase, but Richard called them back after a mere mile; he knew that zealous pursuits would play into Saladin’s hands. The English and Norman knights, who weren’t as tired as the Hospitallers and Templars who had engaged the Muslim right and left respectively, formed a defensive position upon which the wearied crusaders retired. Those who were too eager to refuse chase were soon isolated in small groups, easy prey for Saladin’s horse archers. With his forces regrouped, Richard led a second charge into the frazzled Muslim lines. The Itinerarium gives us a picture of King Richard in action:

“There the king, the fierce, the extraordinary king, cut down the Turks in every direction, and none could escape the force of his arm, for wherever he turned, brandishing his sword, he carved a wide path for himself; and as he advanced and gave repeated strokes with his sword, cutting them down like a reaper with his sickle, the rest, warned by the sight of the dying, gave him more ample space, for the corpses of the dead Turks which lay on the face of the earth extended over half a mile.”

The Muslims were pushed back for a second time, and again Richard refused to give chase. Saladin’s wearied forces began to come back together, but before they could form up Richard launched his third and final attack. This attack was the death-blow to Saladin’s army, and they scattered into the hills in all directions. Saladin gritted his teeth and retreated, outdone by the English king. Contemporary estimates of the forces involved the titanic Battle of Arsuf give both forces around 20,000 men. It’s estimated that the crusaders lost around 1000 men whereas Saladin suffered losses closer to 7000. 

Richard’s victory boosted crusader morale and extinguished Saladin’s reputation of invincibility. Richard would soon press on for the port of Jaffa, and after reforming his scattered forces, Saladin renewed his harassing attacks. Richard, ever intent on port city, refused to give battle, and upon sacking Jaffa, he spent the first half of the winter turning it into a supply depot for his march on Jerusalem. Leaving a garrison in Jaffa, Richard marched on Jerusalem, but by the time he reached the Holy City’s foothills on 3 January 1192, his army was exhausted, lacking supplies, and sickness was beginning to make its rounds through his ranks. Richard’s heart sank when he realized he couldn’t possibly take Jerusalem: his forces were not only weakened by disease and fighting at Acre and Arsuf, but he lacked support—both in manpower and material—from Austria and France, who had absolved themselves of the crusade. Determining that God had ordained that he shouldn’t be the one to retake Jerusalem, Richard refused to even lay eyes on it as he led his forces back towards the coast. He settled his winded forces in the coastal city of Ascalon and set about refortifying its walls. Even after all his efforts, the Kingdom of Jerusalem remained confined to a narrow strip of the Mediterranean coast from Acre to Jaffa, and Jerusalem remained in Muslim hands. Most of the European monarchs who had pledged their support to the crusade had backed out, and thus from a certain point of view, the Third Crusade had so far been a failure. At this point Richard and Saladin entered negotiations. Richard proposed that his widowed sister Joanna marry Saladin’s nephew, and that Saladin’s nephew take ownership of the Holy Land, this infusing Plantagenet blood into a new dynasty. Saladin readily accepted, but Joanna refused to marry outside the Christian faith. The negotiations thus went nowhere. In April 1192 Richard did an about-face and supported Conrad of Montferrat for the throne of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, naming Guy de Lusignon as overseer of Cyprus. Before Conrad’s coronation, however, he was assassinated in Tyre by two Muslim assassins. Rumors flew that Richard had a hand in the assassination, an accusation bolstered by the coincidence that Conrad’s replacement was Richard’s nephew Henry of Champagne. 

While Richard faced accusations of intrigue in the East, his brother John was unashamedly intriguing in the West. Richard had named Mandeville as co-justiciar of England in his absence, but when Mandeville died his place was taken by a man named Longchamp. Longchamp didn’t get along with the other co-justiciar, Puiset, and eventually Longchamp outright refused to cooperate, becoming unpopular with the English nobility and clergy. John exploited the rift, presenting himself as an alternative ruler. He even went as far as creating his own separate royal court with his own justiciar and chancellor, and he wasn’t shy about spreading propaganda about his place as the next English monarch. It wasn’t long before Longchamp and John came to blows, and by October 1191 Longchamp was enchained in the Tower of London and John had control over the city. He appeased the Londoners by promising them special benefits in return for their support of him as Richard’s heir presumptive, despite Arthur of Brittany having already been declared heir. When Richard received news of John’s scheming, he sent word for the Archbishop of Rouen—who was well respected in England—to cross the Channel from France to put John in his place. The archbishop was only a stopgap measure: Richard knew he would have to deal with John face-to-face. Richard decided to make one more march on Jerusalem, but when he realized he was still too weak to take it, he decided to prepare his return home to prevent John from turning England inside out. Saladin’s spies told him that Richard was preparing his departure, and Saladin decided it was time to act: he made a move on Jaffa.

Richard fights outside Jaffa

Saladin launched his attack on 25 July 1192, and his forces pushed their way into Jaffa despite the garrison’s stiff resistance. Once the Muslims were rushing through the city streets like sand through a sieve, most of the Christian garrison surrendered; the more hardhearted steeled themselves in Jaffa’s citadel. The Muslim troops scoured the city, slaughtering all the swine and hurling the crusader corpses into pits with the pigs. Word reached Richard of the city’s predicament, and he loaded 55 knights, several hundred men-at-arms, and 2000 mercenary crossbowmen onto seven ships and sailed for Jaffa. He reached the city’s port on August 1st and saw Muslim banners hanging from Jaffa’s walls. Saladin’s troops filled the shoreline outside the walls, daring Richard to face them. A courageous priest leapt from the citadel, plunged into the water, and swam to Richard’s flagship to inform him that not all had been lost: there were still holdouts. This was all Richard needed to hear, and he jumped into the surf with his shield over his shoulder and battle-axe in hand. The outnumbered crusaders, encouraged by Richard’s defiance of the Muslim troops onshore, followed his lead. Richard led the way to the city’s gates, the crusaders hacking their way up to the city. The Muslim troops panicked at the onslaught, and the crusaders who had surrendered to the Muslims now rose against their captors, seized weapons, and helped Richard through the gate. The Muslims abandoned the city, fleeing five miles from the walls before stopping to catch their breaths. Richard ordered the dead Muslims to be thrown among the slaughtered pigs, and he had the crusader corpses given Christian burials. 

Richard's counterattack against Saladin at Jaffa

Saladin couldn’t believe his ears when he heard the news, and he mustered a force of 20,000 light and heavy cavalry and approached Jaffa on 5 August. Richard sallied forth to meet him on the field of battle, placing his knights and men-at-arms in a single line, each man kneeling on one knee and thrusting the butt of his spear into the sand, thus presenting to the Muslims a “hedge of steel.” Between and behind the kneeling soldiers were crossbowmen working in pairs, one to fire and the other to reload, so as to achieve a high and unrelenting rate of fire. Saladin launched his cavalry against Richard’s hedge of steel, and before the horses could reach the spears many were slain by the crossbowmen. Those who made it to the spears were pushed back; horses, as a general rule, veer away from sharp points. Saladin launched wave after wave against the entrenched crusaders, but eventually his troops became so demoralized that they refused to attack. Now Richard countercharged with a mere fifteen mounted knights, and twice he personally rescued knights who found themselves overwhelmed. Richard’s horse was killed, so he continued fighting on foot. When Saladin saw Richard unhorsed, he declared that such a king shouldn’t fight without a mount, and he sent Richard two splendid horses to replace the one he’d lost. A pause in the fighting ensued, during which a number of Muslim soldiers slipped back into the city. Jaffa’s fresh crusader garrison retreated to their ships, and Richard was forced to ride back into the city and cut his way through the enemy until he reached the frightened men on the ships. He shamed them for fleeing and inspired them to join the fight, and they expelled the Muslims from the city and joined Richard’s hedge of steel just in time for a fresh wave of attacks. Richard led a spirited charge into the Muslim cavalry, penetrating so deeply into their ranks that the front line of dismounted men-at-arms couldn’t see him. A heavily-armed Muslim champion challenged Richard to fight one-on-one, and both sides stopped their fighting to watch. Richard cleaved his opponent through the neck and downward so that the head and right shoulder were tossed into the air as the Muslim champion’s blood-spurting body rode on. This so demoralized the Muslim attackers that they retreated. Saladin had no choice but to withdraw with them, leaving 700 dead soldiers and 1500 slain soldiers on the battlefield. Legend has it that Richard only lost two men in the Battle of Jaffa, but this is unlikely. 

Richard and Saladin met again at the bargaining table, at which they negotiated a three-year truce that retained Richard’s conquests and gave Christian pilgrims access to Jerusalem; in return Richard had the walls of Ascalon torn down. Having secured the so-called Treaty of Jaffa, Richard bid his farewell to the Holy Land and began his journey home in October 1192—and thus he began the next adventure in his life. Stormy weather forced him to seek shelter near Venice, and there he came face-to-face with an old nemesis: Duke Leopold V. The Austrian duke hadn’t forgotten his rough treatment at Acre, how Richard had disrespectfully hurled his banners off the city’s walls despite his assistance in the siege. Leopold wasn’t about to let bygones be bygones, and he captured Richard and imprisoned him in his castle at Durnstein. It was a comfortable imprisonment, but an imprisonment nonetheless. The duke sold him off to the new Holy Roman Emperor, Henry VI, and the emperor placed him in Trifels Castle and began negotiating his ransom with England. John’s popularity on the island had entered a decline thanks to the work of the Archbishop of Rouen, and John had turned to another of his brother’s enemies for help: Philip II of France. By allying with the French king, John hoped to receive titles to Richard’s land in France, including Normandy and Anjou. Eleanor of Aquitaine convinced him not to seek a formal alliance with Philip II, but when Richard didn’t return from the crusade, the English speculated about his absence. Before news of the king’s imprisonment reached the island, John began claiming that Richard had died or been permanently lost. Hoping that Richard was truly out of the picture, John went against his mother’s advice and forged an alliance with Philip II, agreeing to set aside his current wife Isabel and to marry Philip’s sister Alys. When news of Richard’s imprisonment reached England, Eleanor opened negotiations with Henry VI—and so did John and the French king. The latter offered to pay 80,000 marks for the emperor to keep Richard in chains so that John and Philip could ransack Normandy; but Eleanor agreed to pay a loftier sum of 150,000 marks, and in early 1194 Richard was granted his freedom. 

News of his release sent shockwaves through Europe, and John wisely broke his alliance with the French king and hurried his forces out of Normandy. Philip, knowing he wasn’t strong enough to seize Normandy for himself, retreated as well. When Richard returned to England, John’s supporters surrendered and pledged fealty to the king. John sought exile across the Channel in Normandy, but Richard hunted him down a year later. John, face-to-face with the king whom he had tried to usurp, no doubt feared the worst; but Richard did the unthinkable: not only did he forgive John for his schemes and machinations, he even went as far as to make him his heir rather than Arthur of Brittany (his nephew had been captured by Philip II). Richard said that his brother (at 27 years old) was merely “a child who has had evil counselors.” Though pardoned, John wasn’t totally off the hook: he lost all his lands with the exception of Ireland, which had been won by their father Henry II. Having, in the end, been granted promise of that which he craved—the throne of England—John would be loyal to his brother for the duration of his reign, and he would support Richard’s campaigns in France against Philip. 

the Chateau Gaillard in the early 13th century

With order restored in England, the warmongering Richard turned his attention to the French king who had used his imprisonment as a pretext for invading his lands. Richard crossed the Channel and landed in Normandy to wage war against France, and once he stepped onto his transport, his foot leaving English soil, he would never return. The last five years of his reign would be spent quarreling with Philip: the French king had laid his eyes on Richard’s flourishing Angevin Empire, yearning to regain these lands for France, and for that Richard vowed he would pay. The contested lands of the Vexin and Berry became shock-points in their struggle as Richard launched a campaign to regain, piece-by-piece, all those castles he had lost to Philip during his crusading years and subsequent imprisonment. Richard allied with the leaders of Flanders and Boulogne, and he even forged an agreement with his former captor, the Holy Roman Emperor, who applied pressure to France’s northern boundaries. Richard’s father-in-law, Sancho VI of Navarre, even entered the fray, launching raids on southern France. Richard won a number of great victories—the Battle of Freteval in 1194, the seizure of Evreux Castle in 1195, and the Battle of Gisors in 1198 (during which he adopted the motto, Dieu et mon Droit, “God and my Right,” which is still used by British monarchs today)—but his greatest achievement wasn’t a battlefield victory but the construction of one of the most impregnable castles of the medieval world: the Chateau Gaillard. Richard called it his “saucy castle” and positioned it on a high rock at Les Andelys. The site was expertly chosen, on a hundred-meter-high peninsula formed by a switchback curve of the River Seine. Construction was fast-paced, taking just a little over a year. Philip boasted that he would take Chateau Gaillard “if its walls were made of steel,” to which Richard replied that he would hold it “even if its walls were made of butter.” Richard’s steady campaign, met with successes all along the way, would come to a grinding halt on 26 March 1199, all thanks to an archer on the battlements of a run-of-the-mill castle at Chalus-Chabrol. 

King Richard struck by a crossbow bolt

In the spring of 1199 a peasant plowing a field in Chalus, near Limoges, discovered a horde of Roman treasure. The treasure was delivered to the lord of Chalus. Richard claimed the treasure to be his as overlord and demanded that it be delivered to him. When the treasure never came, he and his mercenary captain, Mercadier, besieged the lord’s castle at Chalus-Chabrol. On the evening of 26 March, while Richard was circling the castle and directing the siege, an archer using a frying pan as a shield fired a crossbow bolt from the battlements. Richard saw it coming but ducked too late, and the bolt struck him in his left shoulder. He attempted to remove the bolt, but the shaft broke, leaving the bolt embedded in his shoulder. A surgeon, working only by torchlight, fumbled in its extraction, making the wound far worse. Gangrene set in and Richard became deathly sick. The castle fell shortly afterwards, and the archer was rounded up and brought before the sickened king. Richard, knowing he would soon meet God face-to-face, forgave the archer, saying, “Live on, and by my bounty behold the light of day.” He issued orders that the archer should not only be set free but also given a hundred shillings. Richard’s mother Eleanor, now 77 years old, came to his son’s side, and Richard died in her arms on 6 April 1199. His wife Berengaria wasn’t even summoned. Despite Richard’s deathbed wishes, Mercadier had the archer arrested and sent to Richard’s sister Joanna, who promptly flayed him alive (a lengthy and torturous process) before having him pulled apart limb-from-limb by a team of horses. Richard was buried at Fontevraud, at the feet of his father, and his entrails were sent to Poitou and his heart entombed at Rouen in Normandy.