The fall of Jerusalem opened a new chapter in the history of the crusades: Saladin’s rivalry with Richard I of England, known as Richard the Lionheart. Richard arrived in the Holy Land in June 1191, and the following month Acre fell to the crusaders. In September Richard defeated Saladin at Arsuf but not decisively. With both sides’ resources depleted, the Lionheart could not take Jerusalem so they agreed a truce in autumn 1192. Richard won a partition of Palestine: the crusaders got a rump along the coast centered on Acre but he had lost the great game because Saladin kept Jerusalem and his empire of Egypt, Syria and Iraq. Saladin demonstrated his tolerance by agreeing to allow unarmed Christian pilgrims into Jerusalem. Richard left the Holy Land shortly afterward. Though the two never met again, and Saladin died the following year, the relationship between the two men passed into legend. Richard seems to have been genuinely struck by Saladin’s skill, tolerance and magnanimity as a ruler and battlefield commander.
There is no denying that Saladin could be merciless toward prisoners of war. Like Richard, he thought little of massacring them if the conditions of war demanded it. After Hattin, he slaughtered all the Knights Templar in cold blood. Such were the standards of medieval religious warfare. But chroniclers on both sides sang the praises of Saladin the lawgiver, just ruler and great prince. He could inspire men to take to the battlefield despite daunting odds, and he was usually courteous and chivalrous toward his Christian enemies.
After Saladin’s death, the Muslim chronicler Baha al-Din called him “one of the most courageous of men; brave, gallant, firm, intrepid in any circumstance.” Saladin, sultan of Egypt and Syria, left an Ayyubid empire to his brother Safadin and the family dominated until 1250. The preeminent Kurd in history, he became a symbol of Arab pride in the 20th century, with revolutionary Egypt, Iraq and Palestinian groups adopting his eagle symbol.
RICHARD THE LIONHEART & JOHN SOFTSWORD
1157–1199 & 1167–1216
Steven Runciman
Richard I was one of the most capable and glamorous of English kings; his youngest brother John was one of the most inept and unattractive. They were the sons of King Henry II and his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine, who together ruled England and half of France—the Angevin empire. Henry was to spend much of his reign repelling attacks by the ambitious Philip II of France, who was determined to extend his own borders.
Henry had four legitimate sons. The first—also Henry—was known as Young King after Henry II had him crowned while he himself was still alive, and who died in his twenties. The second was Richard, who ultimately succeeded to the throne as Richard I; Geoffrey became duke of Brittany and earl of Richmond; John was the fourth. The rivalry between the old king and his greedy, jealous and violent sons was so vicious that they were known as the Devil’s Brood. However, the overbearing and dominating Henry II, a swashbuckling royal titan, often favored John, perhaps because he was the weakest and least able—and therefore the lesser threat to his own power.
More legends have accrued around Richard I than any other English king. His chivalrous rivalry with Saladin during the Third Crusade was the subject of famous ballads and tales across Europe, as was his long, Odysseus-like journey home. Richard was the archetypal Angevin king. Like the rest of his family, he had a furious temper and could be irresponsible and impulsive. And, being an Angevin with huge European interests, he simply regarded England as another fiefdom to defend and a resource to fund his conquests.
Brash, tall, with red-golden hair, he adopted scarlet as his color, and wielded a sword he called Excalibur. Highly intelligent, energetic and flexible, he was capable of gruesome cruelty and ruthlessness. He massacred thousands of Muslim prisoners in cold blood outside Acre and, on another occasion, arranged the heads of executed Muslims around his tent—yet he also once stripped naked and whipped himself in church for his sins. He was not interested in women except as political pawns, though he did father at least one bastard (it is unlikely he was gay as claimed by some scholars). War was his ruling passion and outstanding talent.