WHATEVER INSTRUCTIONS Pope Urban II had given his legate with regard to the ultimate control and government of Jersualem, they had died with the good Bishop Adhemar of le Puy. Nor could the pope be consulted: He died only two weeks after the conquest of Jerusalem, before news of the Christian victory could reach him. The pontiff may have envisioned the Holy Land as a papal state, but now the secular Crusaders saw themselves as the victors to whom the spoils belonged.
The French nobles saw Jerusalem as the basis for a feudal kingdom, with the surrounding lands held in fiefdom in the same system they were familiar with at home. They decided to begin by electing a sovereign, but the priests among them objected. Even if a secular kingdom was called for, how could a king be chosen and crowned without the guidance of a patriarch of the Church? The clerics’ complaint was discussed politely and rejected totally.
The new king was to be selected from a group narrowed down to four great nobles. Of the eligible four, Robert of Normandy and Robert of Flanders declined to be considered, since they planned to go home as soon as Jerusalem was secure. Of the remaining two candidates, Raymond of Toulouse was thought by some to be the clear choice, in consideration of his age, wealth, and experience, but he was not popular among the Christian leaders. Raymond was a pompous, arrogant man, much taken with his own importance. His overbearing attitude had been a constant source of annoyance throughout the entire Crusade. Some condemned him for his unilateral decision to allow the Egyptian garrison to escape unharmed from the Tower of David. Most important, the nobles did not want a leader like Raymond, who would most certainly interfere in whatever plans they might have for themselves.
The fourth candidate was Godfrey de Bouillon, a man of a different stripe. A raging tiger on the battlefield, Godfrey was an intensely pious, humble creature at home. As some of the nobles sounded out Godfrey’s own people, they learned that even Godfrey’s own chaplains felt that he was overzealous in his piety. He spent hours at a time on his knees. He carried his prayers of thanksgiving to such tedious lengths that often his staff had to eat their meals cold or unappetizingly overcooked. Godfrey de Bouillon seemed the ideal choice: His ferocity in storming the walls of Jerusalem and his high birth and exemplary moral standards would make him an attractive leader to present to the Christian world, while his preoccupation with religious observances should keep him nicely distracted from the duties of government. That would be a very satisfactory state of affairs for greedy vassals who did not really want to be governed. Thus Godfrey de Bouillon, duke of Lower Lorraine, became the first ruler of the kingdom of Jerusalem, but not as king. True to the nobles’ evaluation of him, Godfrey accepted the authority and responsibility entrusted to him, but would not accept a royal title. No man, he declared, should be called a “king” in Christ’s own city. Nor should any man wear a crown of gold where Christ had worn a crown of thorns. Godfrey asked to be known as the Advocatus Sancti Sepulchri, Defender of the Holy Sepulcher.
With the secular government in place, the barons were prepared to address the leadership of the Church. They decided to select a patriarch for Jerusalem and bestowed the position on a man who must have been the least suitable candidate available. Arnulf Malecorne was a priest who had never held any position in the Church hierarchy, but he was well liked by the Normans and Lorrainers who now controlled Jerusalem. They considered him a good companion and easily overlooked Arnulf’s inability to resist the temptation of worldly pleasures, including attractive women. His departures from his priestly vows were so frequent and so flagrant that they had served as the inspiration for a number of lewd poems and songs in the army. The most concrete barrier to Malecorne’s advancement, however, was his illegitimate birth: Church law strictly forbade making a bastard a bishop.
In his favor, Arnulf was chaplain to Robert, duke of Normandy, and had been of service to Robert’s father, William the Conqueror. He had also acted as tutor to William’s daughter Cecilia, who had pressured her brother Robert into promising that one day he would make Arnulf a bishop. Best of all, Arnulf was not a man who would be likely to intrude into secular affairs.
Not that the new patriarch didn’t enjoy his power, but he was careful to exercise it only in ecclesiastical matters. The Latins applauded his action in forcibly ejecting the Greek Orthodox priests from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Those priests had hidden a major portion of the cross on which the Savior had died and would not reveal its hiding place. As Arnulf’s prisoners, they finally broke down when faced with the very real threat of hideous torture and took the patriarch to the section of the church wall in which they had sealed the holy relic. Arnulf triumphantly took possession of the True Cross, which instantly became the most valuable object in all Christendom.
What none of them realized yet was that just before he died Pope Urban II had appointed a replacement for the deceased legate, Adhemar of le Puy. He was Daimbert, archbishop of Pisa, and he was already on his way to the Holy Land, accompanied by a fleet of Pisan followers. Daimbert was a controversial figure. He had caused trouble wherever he was sent and had been the subject of serious accusations in Spain for liberally helping himself to Church funds. On the other hand, Daimbert was an excellent organizer, a champion of Church rights, and a strong advocate for papal supremacy. He had no doubts as to his new duties: The Holy Land belonged to the Church, and the pope had designated Archbishop Daimbert of Pisa to rule over it. His arrival would spell trouble.
Up to that point, the only troubling news came from the western frontier. The threat of an approaching Egyptian army had spurred the Crusaders to accelerate their efforts to take Jerusalem, and now word arrived that the Egyptian army was continuing its advance. Reports spoke of a host of over fifty thousand men under the personal leadership of al-Afdal, the vizier of Egypt.
A mounted troop under Godfrey’s brother Eustace was sent to reconnoiter from Jerusalem to the coast, to ascertain the location and strength of the enemy. Fortunately, Eustace managed to capture some of the vizier’s advance scouts, who were subjected to the usual painful interrogation process until they revealed all they knew. A messenger was sent to tell Godfrey that al-Afdal was apparently not alert for combat but was relaxing in camp, waiting for Egyptian ships to arrive with military supplies before his march on Jerusalem. Godfrey was urged to muster the Crusader forces for a surprise counterattack.
The Christian nobles had dispersed after Godfrey’s election, to look after the lands they had been given, but they recognized the common danger. It took them a few days to gather their followers and reassemble, but on August 11, less than four weeks after their victory over Jerusalem, the Crusaders were again ready for battle. About twelve hundred knights, with nine thousand men-at-arms and infantry, began their march to the coast to meet a Muslim army that outnumbered them five to one.
At dawn the next day the Christian scouts found the Egyptian army camped near the sea outside the walled city of Ascalon. Godfrey took the left wing, facing the city. Raymond of Toulouse commanded the right wing that would drive along the shore. The center was divided among the followers of Robert of Flanders, Bohemond’s nephew Tancred, and Robert of Normandy. Experienced now in working together, they took their positions with speedy efficiency and launched the charge as soon as they were in place. For the first time, the True Cross was borne in front of them to solicit God’s favor against the unbelievers.
For the unsuspecting Egyptians, many of whom were still asleep, the sudden onslaught was devastating. Scrambling out of their tents to see what the pandemonium and shouting were about, most of them had no time to don their protective armor or to reach their horses. Robert of Normandy rode right for the vizier’s magnificent pavilion and personally cut down the standard bearer who tried to stop him. Al-Afdal, shielded by his bodyguards, managed to gain the refuge of the city, but his army was lost. A large group of Egyptian soldiers sought safety in a dense grove of sycamore trees, which the Christians surrounded and set ablaze. Fugitives trying to escape the fire were hacked down with sword or ax, so none survived. Those fleeing along the shore were killed or driven into the sea to drown.
It was a resounding victory for the Christian army, and the loot was more than any of them had ever seen before. The chests brought on campaign by al-Afdal and his emirs were broken open to reveal hoards of gold coins, precious stones, and magnificent silk robes. There was so much plunder that the entire Christian army couldn’t carry it all. They loaded as much as they could of the most valuable treasure, then set fire to what was to be left behind.
The tragedy of the battle was that the victors missed the greatest prize of all, the city of Ascalon. It was a fatal error that would eventually be corrected only at the cost of thousands of Christian lives. Ascalon would have been a convenient port through which to bring pilgrims and supplies to Jerusalem. It would have provided protection for the Crusaders from further Egyptian incursions. It would have opened up the entire Palestinian coast to the Christians, and it was theirs for the taking, thwarted only by a side of Godfrey de Bouillon that no one had seen before.
The merchant leaders of Ascalon, much more inclined to be ruled by Latin Christians than by the antagonistic Egyptian Shiites, could foresee high potential for profitable trade. They agreed among themselves that they would turn their city over to the Crusaders, but they had to deal first with an overriding concern. They had heard vivid details of the senseless butchery at Jerusalem and dreaded the possibility of a similar madness being loosed on them. How could one trust such blood-crazy people? On the other hand, they had played host to the garrison that had been permitted to leave the Tower of David on the word of Raymond of Toulouse, who had gone so far as to send an escort of his own troops to guarantee their safe passage to the sea. There was one Christian noble, at least, whose word could be trusted.
An envoy came to the Crusaders, offering to surrender the city of Ascalon on the sole condition that such surrender would be made to no one other than Raymond of Toulouse, who would be asked to guarantee the safety of the citizens of the city. The condition was firm and not open to discussion or negotiation. The Christian nobles were delighted at the prospect of this valuable, bloodless victory that would give Jerusalem its own seaport. All, that is, except Godfrey de Bouillon, who took the condition as an unforgivable personal insult. The barons pleaded with him, only to learn that piety is no guarantee of humility. If Ascalon was to be a part of the kingdom of Jerusalem, that relationship must begin by recognizing the unquestioned personal supremacy of the Defender of the Holy Sepulcher. They must make their surrender only to Godfrey de Bouillon.
The citizens of Ascalon would not budge, nor would Godfrey. To make things worse, envoys came from the Muslim seaport city of Arsuf, to the north on the other side of Jaffa. The leaders of Arsuf also agreed to surrender to the Christians, but only to Raymond of Toulouse. Godfrey, offended to the point of rage, sent them home. Raymond of Toulouse was also enraged, but at Godfrey’s behavior.
The consequence of Godfrey de Bouillon’s obstinate pride was that Ascalon remained in Muslim hands for another fifty years. When it was finally conquered by military action, it took a dreadful toll in Christian lives, some of them represented by the headless bodies of Knights Templar hanging from the walls.
Robert of Flanders and Robert of Normandy agreed that Godfrey had aborted the whole concept of the Crusade. It should be for the glory of Jesus Christ, not for the glory of the impoverished duke of Lower Lorraine. To keep their own vows, they prayed at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, visited Christ’s birthplace at Bethlehem and bathed in the waters of the Jordan River. Their vows fulfilled in every part, they announced that they were going home and would take their armies with them. Raymond, who wanted no more to do with Godfrey de Bouillon, decided to head north with his forces, not homeward bound, but to carve out a principality of his own from the Muslim lands that the Crusaders had passed by in their push to get to Jerusalem. Godfrey’s cousin Baldwin of Le Bourg went with Raymond, seeing no future for himself at Jerusalem, not dreaming that he would one day sit on the throne that Godfrey had established.
Bohemond’s nephew Tancred stayed with Godfrey de Bouillon, but not for long. He was unhappy with his role at Godfrey’s court and had watched his uncle Bohemond and Godfrey’s younger brother Baldwin of Edessa carve out territories of their own. That was the route Tancred was determined to follow for himself. On that quest, he rode out of Jerusalem with just twenty-four knights, accompanied by a handful of mounted servants and men-at-arms. He headed up into Galilee, striking first at the city of Nablus.
Tancred’s raid was a masterpiece of unintentional good timing. He was riding into an area that had been cut off from Egyptian support by the defeat at Ascalon, while to the other side the emir of Damascus was fully occupied with internal troubles. Tancred’s small force took Nablus with ease, then turned to the larger city of Tiberias. The Muslim soldiers fled upon the news of Tancred’s approach. From Tiberias, which he was to make the capital of his new principality of Galilee, Tancred reached out to scoop up Nazareth and Mount Tabor, then one small town after another. He got word to Jerusalem that there was plenty of land and loot to share with knights who would join him. The opportunity to exchange boredom for booty was irresistible. Godfrey watched with growing concern as knights and men-at-arms left his capital to join Tancred, the new self-styled prince of Galilee.
Godfrey de Bouillon, who had conducted himself as all-powerful in the matter of the surrender of Ascalon, now had to face the humbling realities that were to plague the kingdom of Jerusalem throughout its two centuries of existence. Crusaders were militant pilgrims. They took a crusading vow, came to fight, and then went home. The armies that would successfully take over Muslim territory would leave behind a resident Christian community that might not be strong enough to hold the new lands against attack.
The other reality was the the Christian barons, when functioning without a strong ruler, would happily turn on each other for personal gain. Godfrey would have liked to be that strong ruler, but he found himself in command of a mere three hundred knights and two thousand soldiers. That was not a large enough standing army to provide any semblance of security. It was imperative that the Christian nobles work together. Godfrey prayed hard, but to the north Christians were already in conflict with each other.
The arrival of Archbishop Daimbert with the Pisan fleet at Antioch had appeared to be a genuine godsend to Prince Bohemond. He longed to take the nearby Greek coastal city of Lattakieh, which would give Antioch a much-needed port, but he could not take a city that could be supplied by sea and thus withstand a siege for years. He needed a navy to blockade the port, and here with Daimbert was just the fleet to do the job.
Bohemond quickly arrived at an agreement with the archbishop and the Pisans over the division of the anticipated spoils of Lattakieh, and the blockade was effected. Bohemond felt no guilt in breaking his oath to the emperor of Byzantium, while the archbishop felt completely justified in attacking any group that called itself Christian but rejected the true faith by refusing to acknowledge the supremacy of the pope.
A few days later, the homeward bound crusading leaders from Jerusalem arrived at the town of Jabala, near Lattakieh. They were appalled to learn that Bohemond was attacking fellow Christians and, still worse, doing it with the aid of an archbishop. Even more alarming, such a serious rift between the Latins and the Greeks might easily deprive the departing Crusaders of the help they needed from the Greek emperor to get back to their own lands in Europe, whether by land or sea. They sent for Archbishop Daimbert to explain himself.
Whatever pride Daimbert may have felt in his elevation to the rank of archbishop and to the lofty post of papal legate, he was now in the presence of real power. He found himself being angrily chastised by the count of Toulouse, the count of Flanders and the duke of Normandy, all men of great wealth and extensive lands and able to wield substantial influence in Rome. It was a situation calling for adaptability. Daimbert offered his accusers no argument, apologized profusely, and assured them that the Pisan blockade would be withdrawn immediately. With the blockade gone, and under threats from three angry noblemen with armies at their backs, Bohemond discovered that he, too, could adapt, and he abandoned his campaign against Lattakieh.
The city was relieved and grateful. The gates were opened to the three Crusader leaders and the banners of Flanders and Normandy were raised next to that of the Byzantine emperor, to show that Lattakieh was under their protection. To give substance to his gratitude, the Greek governor of Cyprus provided ships to take the two Roberts to Constantinople, where the emperor assisted them in their homeward journey.
Daimbert was anxious to move on to Jerusalem to assume his new power, and Bohemond decided to escort him. It was not good politics to continue to neglect his crusading vow, and besides, the kingdom of Jerusalem itself was a not unlikely reward. Godfrey de Bouillon had no children, and there were strong rumors of his rapidly failing health. His new friend, the papal legate, was certain to exercise considerable influence over the appointment of Godfrey’s successor. Bohemond announced his intention to travel to Jerusalem with Daimbert toward the end of the year, to attend Christmas services in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.
Off in Edessa, Godfrey’s brother Baldwin had heard those same rumors about Godfrey’s health, and he had a more direct connection to the royal succession. His older brother Eustace had returned to France, so now Baldwin was Godfrey’s closest relative in the Holy Land. No law decreed that the throne of Jerusalem was hereditary, but custom was strong. Baldwin informed Bohemond that he would be joining him in his pilgrimage to the Holy City.
The long passage through what was still Muslim territory was not easy, with shortages of food and water and with Muslim raiders picking off the stragglers, but the pilgrims finally reached Jerusalem on December 21. Godfrey was delighted to greet them, but the patriarch Arnulf was distressed by the arrival of a papal legate. His fears were justified just after Christmas when Archbishop Daimbert, with strong support from Bohemond, got the nobles’ approval of his assertion that Arnulf’s election had been illegal. Arnulf’s patron, Robert of Normandy, had gone home, so he had no strong backing of his own. Arnulf was deposed, and Daimbert of Pisa was unanimously approved as the true patriarch of Jerusalem. Godfrey knelt in front of the patriarch to pay his homage to the Church.
Bohemond also knelt before Daimbert, and Tancred, prince of Galilee, rode to Jerusalem to offer his homage as well. Archbishop Daimbert misunderstood their motives. Godfrey was truly recognizing the supremacy of the Church, while the two princes were asserting that they did not hold their crowns as vassals of Godfrey. Daimbert was disturbed that Baldwin of Edessa had not knelt before him. Did this Baldwin not recognize any power above his own? Did he not recognize the supremacy of Holy Mother Church? He was a man of proven ambition and would bear watching.
Daimbert saw the kingdom of Jerusalem as a papal province, with himself as the sole and proper ruler. Through the months ahead he spent every spare moment with Godfrey, continually making the point that Jerusalem was the city of Jesus Christ and should not have a secular government. Godfrey should surrender the kingdom to God and to Christ’s vicar on earth, whose legate was Daimbert of Pisa. Godfrey did not disagree with him, and with Daimbert’s help he changed his will to leave the kingdom to the patriarch of Jerusalem, who from then on watched Godfrey’s declining health with intense interest.
A fleet arrived from Venice, and arrangements were made to divide with the Venetians any conquests made with their help. The nobles agreed on Acre as the main target, to be assaulted on land by the forces of Godfrey and Tancred while the Venetian fleet would attack from the sea and blockade the port. By now Godfrey was confined to his sickbed in Jerusalem, too ill to accompany his army. Patriarch Daimbert went with the army in order to have a hand in the division of the plunder when the victory over Acre would come, so he was not in Jerusalem on July 18, 1100, when Godfrey finally succumbed to a quiet, painless death.
One of Godfrey’s vassals in Jerusalem, who was also a good friend of Godfrey’s brother, Baldwin of Edessa, moved quickly, probably through prearrangement. He sent men to occupy the Tower of David and dispatched messengers to Edessa to inform Baldwin of Godfrey’s death. He did not send any messengers to the army, which had changed its target from Acre to the smaller city of Haifa, and sent no message to Patriarch Daimbert.
A Venetian in Jerusalem sent the news to his own fleet, so the Venetian admiral took a galley to meet with Tancred and Daimbert, to see if Godfrey’s passing was going to alter their joint plans. Daimbert was convinced that no one in Jerusalem would contest Godfrey’s will, but just to be certain he sent a messenger to Jerusalem with instructions for his followers to take the Tower of David and hold it for Daimbert’s return. When word came back that Godfrey’s men had already taken the Tower and had sent for Baldwin of Edessa, Daimbert sent a letter to Bohemond at Antioch. He asked Bohemond to prevent any attempt by Baldwin of Edessa to come to Jerusalem, with open warfare if necessary.
Bohemond didn’t get the letter and wouldn’t get any for years to come. He had made one raid too many to increase his holdings at the Muslims’ expense and had just been captured. The only strong power capable of blocking Baldwin’s path to the throne of Jerusalem was now in chains in a Muslim dungeon.
When Baldwin was given the news in Edessa, he sent for his cousin Baldwin of Le Bourg, whom he invested as count of Edessa but as vassal to himself, as the expected king of Jerusalem. Baldwin set out for Jerusalem with a bodyguard of nine hundred knights supported by infantry, traveling through the Christian towns to rally support for his claim to the throne. In the lands in between, the Muslims repeatedly attacked him, resulting in some fierce battles with losses that cut his little force in half, but they did not stop Baldwin’s march to the holy city.
On November 9, 1100, Baldwin marched into Jerusalem to the cheers of the citizens, who greeted him as their new ruler. Two days later Baldwin, who did not share his brother Godfrey’s attitude toward titles, took the crown of gold and became King Baldwin I of Jerusalem. Daimbert, defeated in his bid for power, moved from his palace in Jerusalem to the monastery on nearby Mount Sion to engage in pious exercises while awaiting his fate. He was relieved to learn that, for the present at least, Baldwin I was quite willing that he continue as patriarch of Jerusalem. Baldwin agreed that with Prince Bohemond in captivity, Tancred should rule as prince of Antioch. As part of the arrangement Tancred relinquished his principality of Galilee to the kingdom of Jerusalem.
Baldwin I was the man the moment required. Without him, there might never have been any real kingdom of Jerusalem. His flamboyant but successful adventures during the First Crusade were well known, which gave hm the aura of a man to be respected, even feared. He was compulsively ambitious but predictable, a man who never made a frivolous or ill-considered threat or promise. As an aggressive, hands-on ruler determined to defend and to expand his kingdom, he spent as much time in the saddle as on the throne.
Baldwin knew the importance of the coast and of trade. Merchants meant income. They didn’t go home as soon as a fight was over, but took advantage of times between battles to strengthen their grip on trade and on their property. Baldwin eagerly made agreements with the merchants of Genoa and Venice, whose ships provided his kingdom with all the force of a substantial navy. With their cooperation he soon took the southern coastal cities of Arsuf and Caesarea, with his eye on additional Egyptian ports to the north.
Baldwin I did not permit encroachments on the landward side of his kingdom, but he led raids far to the east, into the land the French Crusaders called Oultrejourdain, “Across-the-Jordan.” On one such raid, he waited until nightfall to pounce on a sleeping caravan. He captured it easily, pleased with the extensive plunder. When he received word that one of the prisoners was the wife of an important sheikh, and in an advanced stage of pregnancy, King Baldwin visited her in person. He had a tent set up for her and had the richest carpets and cushions selected from the loot of the caravan. He ordered that she be provided with food, water, and attendants, with two she-camels to provide milk for the expected child. Preparing to leave, he took off his own rich royal mantle and draped it over the wide-eyed young woman.
When the Christians left, the despondent sheikh came to the site to look for his wife’s body. When he found her safe, saw the rich furnishings and provisions and even the king’s own robe, he was overwhelmed. He swore a sacred oath of gratitude to this chivalrous king. The sheikh’s loyalty to his solemn oath would later save Balwin’s life.
While King Baldwin of Jerusalem was occupied with building his kingdom, the Egyptians, as might be expected, were planning to tear it down. Early in the fall of 1101 an army of thirty thousand Egyptians marched past Ascalon on their way to Jerusalem. Informed too late to call in other forces, Baldwin had to defend the city with only the small force he had at hand, which meant the Christians were outnumbered twenty-five to one. Fortunately, all of the Christians were experienced in battle, while most of the Egyptians were not, having been drafted for this campaign. With the enemy close at hand, Baldwin made a brief speech to his men. As remembered by his chaplain, Baldwin summed up the life-and-death importance of the impending battle. In essence, he said, “Should you be slain, you will earn a martyr’s crown. Should you be victorious, you will win immortal glory. As for flight, forget it. France is too far away!” Baldwin led the charge himself, with Bishop Gerard bearing the True Cross. The fighting was fierce, and the Christian front was so small that many in the horde of Egyptians couldn’t get to it. Bloodied by the unrelenting strokes of the armored Crusaders, the Muslim front broke, and before long the entire Egyptian army was retreating at full speed to the safety of Ascalon. Baldwin, fully aware of the danger of having his small army spread out, shouted that death would be the punishment for any man who broke away in pursuit of plunder.
Eight months later the Egyptians came again, this time with an army of twenty thousand made up of Arabs and black Sudanese, both of whom were better fighters than the men of the first expedition. Baldwin rode out, again grossly outnumbered. This time the enemy was not massed, so that at Baldwin’s charge they moved around to trap him in a huge circle. Baldwin saw the trap coming and rode off the field to seek shelter in the nearby small walled city of Ramleh.
During the night a lone Arab approached the city wall and demanded that he be taken to Baldwin. Not fearful of one man alone, the guards opened the gate to him and summoned an escort to take him to the king. In response to Baldwin’s questioning look the Arab identified himself as the sheikh whose pregnant wife had been so chivalrously cared for by Baldwin during the raid into Oultrejourdain the prior year. In keeping with his vow of eternal gratitude, the sheikh had come to warn Baldwin that the Egyptian army was under orders to take up positions throughout the night, so that by dawn Ramleh would be completely surrounded. If Baldwin was to save his life, he must leave immediately, while there was still a chance to get through the Muslim lines.
It was good advice, which Baldwin followed promptly by ordering the saddling of his favorite horse, a magnificent Arabian called Gazelle, which was famous for its speed. Baldwin was spotted in the darkness galloping through the enemy lines, but none of the men who chased him was on a beast that could even approach the lightning speed of the king’s horse as he rode for his life.
The Egyptian wars had emptied Baldwin’s treasury, so he decided to get a loan from patriarch Daimbert. With revenues from lands and villages that had been given to the Church, gifts from Europe, and a steady stream of cash gifts from pilgrims, the Church appeared to be the primary place to which to turn for funds. The patriarch respectfully declined the king’s petition, asserting that the church treasury held only two hundred marks, which was needed for the maintenance of the clergy. The king was doubtful, but helpless. Then word came to him that an Italan nobleman, Count Roger of Apulia, had sent a gift of one thousand gold marks to the patriarch, designating that it be divided equally between the Church, the Amalfi hospital and the kingdom of Jerusalem. Patriarch Daimbert claimed to know nothing about the gift.
The deposed bishop Arnulf, happy for the chance to get back at his enemy Daimbert, did know about the gift, and told Baldwin where to look for that money, and a lot more. Investigation revealed that Daimbert had pocketed the entire sum. Further investigation produced a total of twenty thousand gold marks that the patriarch managed to skim off for himself out of Church funds. Archbishop Daimbert was removed as patriarch of Jerusalem.
Two years later the Egyptians came again, but by now Baldwin had outposts to warn of their approach, so had time to summon the knights and soldiers of Galilee to join him. They would still have been grossly outnumbered, but providence intervened in the form of two hundred ships arriving from Europe bearing thousands of pilgrims, whose numbers included knights from France, Germany, and England. They were delighted to have the opportunity to take up arms against the infidel, a chance for glory that they had not anticipated. In the battle that followed, the Egyptians were decisively beaten by a much larger army than they had been led to expect.
Not forgetting his plans for the coast, Baldwin sought an alliance with a Genoese fleet in 1104, and with its help took the important Egyptian port city of Acre. The other Christian ports were at points of relatively shallow water, but Acre boasted the best protected deepwater harbor on the coast. The extra benefit was that Baldwin now had the full support of Genoa, which established a major naval and trading base at Acre.
In August 1105 a new Muslim army entered the kingdom of Jerusalem, this time made up of Sunni cavalry from Damascus and Shiite infantry from Egypt, brought together by their common Christian enemy. Baldwin met them near Ramleh, the town from which he had escaped on his swift Arabian horse. The Muslim cavalry followed its usual tactic of riding in close, firing arrows into men and horses, then galloping off too quickly for the heavy horses of the Christian knights to catch them. Baldwin, seeing his knights falling, turned away from the infantry to concentrate all his efforts on the harassing Sunni cavalry. The horsemen finally broke and ran, with no thought for the safety of the Shiite infantry they were leaving stranded. The Muslims on foot were brave enough, but stood no chance against the massive horses and armored men who crashed into them again and again. Most of the Egyptians died in their ranks.
Baldwin’s success at Acre encouraged him to seek a similar naval alliance with the combined fleets of Genoa and Pisa for an attack on the great coastal city of Beirut, which was taken in May 1110. Six months later a similar alliance resulted in the capture of Sidon. Baldwin’s power now extended well to the north, and he had new, richer lands to distribute to those who would agree to come to the Holy Land to take service under his banner.
Raymond of Toulouse had not gone back to Europe, but during Baldwin’s reign had been the guest of the emperor of Byzantium at Constantinople. Still eager for a principality of his own in the Holy Land, Raymond returned with his army and managed to take the city of Tortosa, north of Tripoli. When Raymond of Toulouse died in 1109, his cousin Count William-Jordan took over the campaign and captured the inland town of Arqa, so that Tripoli was effectively surrounded. In July 1109 the Christians finally took the city of Tripoli and set up the last Crusader state, the county of Tripoli. Christians now effectively controlled the coast from Egypt to Cilicia (or Lesser Armenia, in modern Turkey).
In 1118 Baldwin took an expedition into Egypt itself to the great delta of the Nile. No Egyptian soldier had been able to bring him down, but the germ of an unidentified disease did it easily. The strange malady quickly took over his whole system and, a few weeks later, took his life.
His cousin Baldwin of Le Bourg of Edessa traveled to Jerusalem for the royal funeral. From the day he arrived he was hailed as the new king of Jerusalem. He was crowned King Baldwin II on April 14, 1118, following the Easter Sunday service. A few weeks later he would change the course of crusading history by giving his royal blessing to a new religious order of warrior monks, knights who took sacred vows to live and die for the True Cross.