Jerusalem. (Michael Fulton)
The era of the crusades is bookended by significant sieges, beginning with the siege of Nicaea in 1097, the first siege of the First Crusade, and ending with the Mamlūk siege of Acre in 1291, following which Frankish rule in the Levant effectively came to an end. For convenience, this period is often subdivided, split between events before and after the battle of Hattin in 1187 or Saladin’s death in 1193, between which the Third Crusade (1189–92) took place.
From the perspective of the Franks – the Latin Christians who settled or were later born in the Levant – the first period is characterized by the establishment of the Latin principalities and the subsequent rise and then decline of Frankish influence. In 1187, the Franks were soundly defeated by Saladin at the battle of Hattin, leading to a considerable loss of territory. Although their presence was saved by the Third Crusade and Saladin’s death shortly afterwards, the Franks were a side-line power through the following century. Crusades, essentially armed pilgrimages, would continue to bring periodic waves of large numbers of Europeans to the Holy Land, but the Franks were little more than a nuisance to their Muslim neighbours between these brief moments of greater influence.
From a Muslim point of view, the twelfth century saw the steady consolidation of power under the Zankids and then Saladin, under whom rule of Cairo, Damascus, Aleppo and Jerusalem was eventually united. From 1193, Saladin’s successors struggled with each other for control of the empire left to them until Ayyūbid rule in Syria was brought to an end with the Mongol invasion of 1260. Mongol rule lasted less than a year and was supplanted by that of the Mamlūks, a dynasty of slave soldiers who had taken control of Egypt in the 1250s. The Mamlūks defeated the Mongols at the battle of ʿAyn Jālūt, which allowed them to spread their authority across western Syria thereafter. Although the Franks were able to maintain their presence in the Levant alongside the feuding Ayyūbids, the consolidation of regional power under the Mamlūks led to their steady expulsion.
The East
Of the roughly 7 billion people alive today, more than half identify themselves as Christian or Muslim. Much as it did a millennium ago, Jerusalem holds symbolic importance to members of both faiths: it is the holiest city in Christendom, where the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus took place, and the most sacred city in Islam outside Arabia, the place traditionally associated with Muḥammad’s Night Journey, during which he ascended to heaven. Jerusalem was part of a Roman client kingdom during the life of Jesus and had become a part of the Roman Empire by the time Christianity was legalized and officially embraced by the empire in the early fourth century. Although the western part of the Roman Empire collapsed in the fifth century, Jerusalem continued to thrive as a Christian city under the eastern component, now commonly known as the Byzantine Empire. Following the birth of Islam, Jerusalem was captured by the Arabs in 638, less than a decade after the death of the Prophet Muḥammad. The meteoric success of the Muslim conquests brought Egypt, Palestine, Syria and Mesopotamia all under Muslim control by the middle of the seventh century.
Jerusalem continued to prosper under Muslim rule, although local power was concentrated elsewhere. It was also a fairly tolerant city during this period: Christians were permitted to continue their practices and Jews, who had been banned from the city since a failed uprising against the Romans in the second century, were once more allowed in. Many living in Palestine gradually converted to Islam over the following centuries, although numerous Christian communities remained. Further north, in areas where Byzantine influence was more prevalent, Christianity remained the dominant religion.
The founding of the Fāṭimid caliphate in the early tenth century, and its conquest of Egypt in 969, placed Jerusalem between rival Muslim powers: the Shiite Fāṭimids, who controlled Egypt and the eastern portion of North Africa; and the Sunni ʿAbbāsids, whose influence spread across Mesopotamia and greater Syria. Over the following decades a war was waged over not just Palestine but the entire Levant. In 969, the Byzantines, who retained an interest in Anatolia and western Syria, captured Antioch, which had fallen to the Arabs in 637. While Fāṭimid armies swept northward from Egypt from 970, acquiring territory at the expense of the ʿAbbāsids, a Byzantine army invaded from the north in 975, failing to reach Jerusalem before it was compelled to retreat. Testament to the regional, rather than religious nature of the conflict, Byzantine forces came to the aid of the emir of Aleppo in 995, then besieged by a Fāṭimid army. A relatively rare moment of extreme religious intolerance accompanied the reign of Fāṭimid Caliph al-Hakim, who, in 1009, ordered the destruction of Christian holy places in Jerusalem and elsewhere.
The caliphs, both Sunni and Shiite, could trace their lineage back to the family of Muḥammad, and many regional rulers and officials were similarly of Arab ethnicity. It was not uncommon, however, to find Turks, Armenians and members of other groups who lived along the borders of the Muslim realm in positions of influence in both ʿAbbāsid and Fāṭimid administrations. Some of these figures were mamlūks, non-Muslims by birth who were bought as slaves and raised as Muslim soldiers. Through the patronage of certain rulers, such individuals who displayed particular abilities and loyalty might be elevated to significant administrative positions later in life. For example, Badr al-Jamālī, a mamlūk of Armenian heritage, became Fāṭimid vizier in the late eleventh century, effectively ruling Egypt on the caliph’s behalf. He was followed in this paramount position of influence by a number of fellow ethnic Armenians, including his son, al-Afḍal Shāhinshāh, and grandson, al-Afḍal Kutayfāt, as well as Yānis and Bahrām, who was openly Christian.
To the east, the ʿAbbāsids had been the reigning caliphal dynasty since the eighth century, ruling from their capital of Baghdad. Through the tenth century, however, their authority over Syria began to decline. The northward migration of nomadic Bedouin communities upset the established agrarian administration, pitting farmers against herders for control of resources and trade, while pressure increased from both the Byzantines and Fāṭimids. The greatest threat to ʿAbbāsid power, however, was the Seljuk Turks, a conglomerate of semi-nomadic Turkish forces who loosely marched under the banner of the Seljuk family. Although they recognized the nominal authority of the ʿAbbāsid caliphate, the Turks came to assume practical control over most of greater Syria, Anatolia and Mesopotamia in the eleventh century.
From the steppes of western central Asia, the Seljuks had begun migrating into Persia in the tenth century, from where they continued to move westward. In 1055, Baghdad fell to the army of Ṭugril-Beg, grandson of Seljuk, the eponymous founder of the dynasty. Ṭugril took the title of sultan, thus becoming protector of the caliph and legitimizing his rule, which soon extended across much of Syria. Under Alp Arslān, Ṭugril’s nephew and successor, Seljuk authority continued to spread. In 1071, Alp Arslān defeated a large Byzantine army under Emperor Romanos IV Diogenes outside the town of Manzikert. This victory encouraged opportunistic Turkish forces, often acting fairly independently, to spread further into Anatolia. As the Byzantines were pushed back, almost to the walls of Constantinople, Seljuk forces captured Antioch in 1084.
In the same year as the battle of Manzikert, another independent Turkish force, under the renegade Atsiz ibn Uvaq, who had served (and betrayed) both the Seljuks and Fāṭimids by this point, besieged and took Jerusalem. Atsiz carved out a lordship for himself in Palestine at the expense of the Fāṭimids, taking Acre (ʿAkkā) and Damascus, which became his seat of power, before his advances were checked when he was defeated attempting to invade Egypt in 1077. Facing a counterattack from the Fāṭimids, Atsiz summoned Tāj al-Dawla Tutush, the young son of the recently deceased Alp Arslān and brother of the current sultan, Malikshāh. Tutush, who became the principal power in western Syria, assumed control of Damascus and delegated authority over Jerusalem to one of his supporters, Artuq, who was succeeded in 1091 by his sons, Īlghāzī and Suqmān.
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Jerusalem. (Michael Fulton)
With the death of Malikshāh in 1092, the semblance of unified Seljuk authority in Syria collapsed as his family members subsequently fought over the succession. When Tutush was killed in 1095, his sons Riḍwān and Duqāq continued the family tradition. Riḍwān inherited northwestern Syria, ruling from Aleppo, and Duqāq set himself up in Damascus. In a bid for greater power and autonomy, many regional rulers sided with whichever brother’s powerbase was further away: the Artuqid brothers in Jerusalem supported Riḍwān while Yaghī Siyān, who held Antioch, supported Duqāq; the allegiance of other regional powers was similarly divided between the brothers.
The fractured political landscape of regional rivalries meant that there was no unified or coordinated effort to confront the First Crusade, which crossed into Anatolia in the late spring of 1097 and arrived in northwestern Syria about five months later. One by one, forces sent from Aleppo, Damascus and Mosul were defeated or at least turned back by the Franks as they besieged Antioch through the autumn, winter and spring of 1097–98. Taking advantage of the situation and diversion of attentions caused by the arrival of the Franks, the Fāṭimids, under Vizier al-Afḍal, the son of Badr al-Jamālī, besieged and captured Jerusalem in August 1098. This victory, however, would be short lived, as the city fell to the crusaders less than a year later.
The West
In 1095, Pope Urban II delivered his famous sermon at Clermont, which set in motion the First Crusade. The pope’s call for action had come in response to a request for help made by the Byzantine emperor, Alexius Comnenus. With the Turks on the doorstep of Anatolia, civil war had broken out among the Byzantines in the mid-eleventh century. Although Seljuk interests were focused elsewhere through much of the 1070s, the factional fighting between Byzantine parties, many of whom recruited Turkish fighters, increased the number of Turks and their influence in the region. Alexius seized the imperial throne in 1081 and consolidated Byzantine power, but this did little to stem the westward spread of the Seljuks.
A consequence of the Byzantine infighting had been the granting of lands in exchange for Turkish support. This led to the establishment of the Seljuk sultanate of Rūm, founded by Sulaymān ibn Qutlumush (father of Qilij Arslān), an opponent of Sultan Alp Arslān and his sons. By the time Alexius dispatched his appeal for help to the pope, the Byzantines retained only a small foothold east of the Bosporus.
There was little new in the request issued by Alexius – the Byzantines had a long tradition of using contingents of foreign fighters, regardless of their ethnicity. The elite Varangian Guard, for example, was composed of northern Europeans and it was not uncommon for political refugees and adventurers from Latin Europe to find fulltime employment with the Byzantines; others simply lent assistance while on pilgrimage, as did Count Robert I of Flanders a decade before the First Crusade. By all accounts, it was a similar body of experienced fighters or mercenaries that Alexius had in mind when he wrote to Urban.
The pope, however, appears to have taken this opportunity to press another initiative then circulating in Europe: the Peace of God. Directing Europe’s necessarily militarized barons to fight non-Christians was seen as a way of reducing organized violence among Christians. In exchange for taking up this holy cause, the Church offered indulgences, granting forgiveness for sins and limiting the time that participants could expect to spend in purgatory when they died. This was not the first time that this had been attempted, but for some reason the combination of circumstances in this instance generated widespread popular support.
The accounts of Urban’s speech, provided by figures who might have been at Clermont in 1095, were all composed after the capture of Jerusalem in 1099. Accordingly, it is unclear how Jerusalem might have figured in the pope’s original plans. In the versions of the speech that have survived, the city is portrayed as suffering under Muslim rule; however, the last period of notable persecutions had taken place under Atsiz in the 1070s. Regardless of whether the ‘liberation’ of Jerusalem was part of Urban’s original speech, he seems to have been playing on more general sentiments of perceived Turkish or Arab barbarity – using these stereotypes to stir his audience into action.
The First Crusade.
A popular movement, known as the Peasants’ Crusade, set out in 1096 under the leadership of a charismatic figure known as Peter the Hermit. This first wave of crusaders, far from the military force that Alexius had desired, was soundly defeated later that year in western Anatolia by Qilij Arslān, the sultan of Rūm. The main crusade, which followed a few months later, was led by figures including Godfrey of Bouillon and his brother Baldwin of Boulogne, Raymond of St Gilles, count of Toulouse, Bohemond of Taranto and his nephew Tancred, Robert II of Flanders, and Robert II (Curthose) of Normandy. Although many of Europe’s leading barons took part, none of its monarchs joined the crusade. After assembling at Constantinople, the crusaders set out and successfully besieged Nicaea, Antioch and Jerusalem in turn between 1097 and 1099. The success of the First Crusade was a relative anomaly, due largely to the division among the Muslim rulers of Syria and the resolve and singular objective of the rank and file of the crusader army. A similar expedition that followed soon afterwards, known as the Crusade of 1101, was soundly defeated as it made its way through Anatolia.
Two of the eventual four Latin principalities, sometimes referred to as the ‘crusader states’, were founded before Jerusalem’s capture in 1099. A decade later, all four were established political powers. The Franks entrenched themselves in the region and, as one generation gave way to the next, their continued presence was noticeable – they were there to stay. What had been an expeditionary force that had taken up arms to recapture the Holy Land for Christendom, had turned into a significant political force. Although most participants of the First Crusade who had lived to see the fall of Jerusalem returned to Europe, others stayed and more followed, seeking religious, social or economic rewards in the East. The Franks carved up the landscape into a series of lordships, often following ancient boundary lines. Most local administrative structures were preserved, although a new ruling hierarchy was imposed and new laws governed the Latin ruling class. As Frankish rule became more established, so too did their influence increase at the expense of neighbouring Muslims. Although the balance of power shifted back and forth, most noticeably in the north, not until the establishment of Zankid rule in Aleppo can the tide be seen to turn gradually and consistently back against the Franks.
County of Edessa
There was a pre-existing tradition of fragmentary rule in the region of what became the county of Edessa. The predominantly Armenian lordships encountered by the Franks in the drainage basin of the upper Euphrates were based largely on kinship groups and centred on strongholds. Here, more than anywhere else, the Franks integrated themselves into the existing political system. Even before the county was established, the Franks benefited considerably from opportunistic alliances with some of these Eastern Christians, many of whom were relatively new to the region themselves. For example, a figure named Oshin, who had left the Armenian heartland in the 1070s and migrated to Cilicia, where he captured Lampron, a castle in the Taurus Mountains that was held by a force of Turks at that time, was among those who later offered assistance to the First Crusade as it passed through Cilicia.
The Frankish principalities at about their largest.
Before the siege of Antioch, Baldwin of Boulogne left the main army of the First Crusade and moved into the Armenian lands east of the Amanus (Nur) Mountains, where he began to accumulate territory. In early 1098, he travelled to the court of Toros, the Greek ruler of Edessa. In exchange for helping Toros against his Turkish neighbours, Baldwin was adopted as his son and successor, duly replacing Toros following his murder only weeks later. Under Baldwin I, the fledgling county of Edessa appears to have looked quite similar to those of his Armenian neighbours and Baldwin’s direct authority may have been limited to only a few strongholds. Following the succession of his cousin, Baldwin II, Frankish authority was solidified and the county expanded across parts of southeastern Anatolia and the western Jazīra. Frankish rule developed on a fairly ad hoc basis, exploiting the divisions among the region’s Armenian and Muslim rulers: allies were able to retain a significant degree of independence while opponents were typically replaced with Frankish supporters. Although Baldwin II was more aggressive than his predecessor, he was apparently a popular ruler.
Shortly after inheriting Edessa in 1100, Baldwin II created the county’s largest lordship for another cousin, Joscelin of Courtenay (later Joscelin I of Edessa), a survivor of the Crusade of 1101. The lordship was centred on the castle of Turbessel (Tell Bāshir) and consisted of the earliest lands acquired by Baldwin I west of the Euphrates. Yet another of Baldwin’s cousins, Galeran of Le Puiset, was given Sarūj (mod. Suruç) at some point after it was besieged in 1101.
Although Latin figures came to hold the most important positions, this remained a relatively Armenian polity, heavily dependent on the support of local communities. Most of the county’s strongholds had been established before the First Crusade and their Frankish lords would have made use of considerable bodies of Armenian defenders. Similarly, the county’s army almost certainly included more Armenians than Franks. Indicative of this, Usāma ibn Munqidh casually describes a group of hostages held at Shayzar by his father in the early twelfth century as ‘some Frankish and Armenian knights’.11 The apparent lack of a social divide is another indication that pragmatism trumped ethnic biases when it came to the county’s ‘feudal’ structure.
The willingness of Franks and Armenians to seek alliances for mutual benefit is clearly seen in the intermarriage between influential Franks and powerful Armenian families. The first three counts (Baldwin I, Baldwin II and Joscelin I) all married daughters of important Armenian nobles. Galeran of Le Puiset’s marriage, which probably took place in 1116, was a solution to a more immediate issue – it ended Baldwin II’s year-long siege of al-Bīra. The marriage, which involved the daughter of al-Bīra’s Armenian ruler, was essentially a term of the town’s surrender: al-Bīra became part of Galeran’s lordship, and thus the county of Edessa, while his new in laws were able to retain a measure of their previous influence.
Principality of Antioch
Bohemond of Taranto, who had orchestrated the capture of Antioch in 1098, went on to establish a principality around the city. Like the Armenian regions to the north, this area also contained a significant Christian population, in addition to a number of Sunni Muslims and a considerable Shiite community. Many of the leaders of the First Crusade had begun amassing territory in this region as the expedition stalled in the second half of 1098. Bohemond, who remained in Antioch, acquired many of these lands when the others continued on towards Jerusalem in early 1099, although some regions fell back into Muslim and Byzantine hands.
Under the regency of Tancred, Bohemond’s adventurous nephew, Frankish influence reached through the Sarmada Pass, towards Aleppo, and along the banks of the Orontes to the south. This set in motion the ebb and flow of a power struggle between Antioch and Aleppo as the frontier was contested and territory was traded back and forth over the following years. The strongholds on either side of the Sarmada Pass, which provided the easiest route through the Syrian Coastal Mountains between Antioch and Aleppo, were vital to controlling territory on the far side and securing lands on the near side from raids. Control of the Orontes Valley, south of Aleppo, and the plateau to the east, was similarly maintained through the possession of the region’s fortified towns and castles, which were entrusted to Frankish vassals.
Antioch, town walls as seen in the eighteenth century (from Voyage pittoresque, ed. Cassas).
Most urban defences and castles in the region had been built by the Muslims or Byzantines before the Franks arrived. In the Syrian Coastal Mountains, strongholds such as Saone (Ṣahyūn), Bourzey (Barziyya) and Balāṭunūs had been founded by the Byzantines, while Margat (Marqab) was first built under Muslim rule. Between Antioch and Aleppo, the defences of Ḥārim (Harrenc), al-Athārib, ʿAzāz and other strongholds, which were traded back and forth through the twelfth century, were almost certainly developed by both Frankish and Muslim rulers, as were those of Apamea (Qalʿat Mudīq), Maʿarrat al-Nuʿmān and many of the fortified urban centres between the Orontes Valley and the Syrian Desert to the east.
Kingdom of Jerusalem
Jerusalem naturally formed the centre of the most prestigious of the Latin principalities. Following the capture of the city, Godfrey of Bouillon, brother of Baldwin of Boulogne, now Baldwin I of Edessa, was elected its first ruler. Godfrey declined the title of king – it was unclear at this point how the city and surrounding region would be administered: should it be a secular lordship or an ecclesiastical one? Godfrey remained protector of Jerusalem until his death in 1100, at which point he was succeeded by his brother Baldwin I of Edessa, who had no qualms about becoming King Baldwin I of Jerusalem.
Jerusalem, Ramla and Hebron, which had been captured in 1099, formed the southern heartland of the kingdom, while Tancred’s acquisition of Tiberias provided a strong foothold in Galilee. Over the following decade, Frankish authority was extended along the Mediterranean coast through a series of successful sieges, often benefiting from Italian maritime support. By 1111, only Tyre, which was finally captured in 1124, and Ascalon, which did not fall until 1153, remained in Muslim hands. Further inland, the kingdom’s nominal authority had spread across Palestine within a year or two after the capture of Jerusalem; however, it was a longer process to establish effective rule over this region, which was home to many Muslim communities and was largely devoid of significant fortifications. The gradual imposition of Frankish authority accompanied the construction of castles and smaller administrative towers; the former were financed by the monarchy and wealthy barons, while the latter were often commissioned by lesser lords who may have ruled over no more than a little village and its associated farmland.
Beyond the traditional limits of Palestine, the kingdom stretched up the coast north of Tyre and down the eastern side of the Great Rift, south of the Dead Sea. Both extensions were restricted by geographical factors. To the north, the kingdom’s influence reached as far as Beirut but appears to have been restricted to the west side of Mount Lebanon, never seriously challenging the Muslim rulers of Baalbek for control of the Biqāʿ Valley. To the south, the Franks remained relatively confined to the arable land on the eastern side of Wādī ʿAraba. Beginning with the construction of Montreal (Shawbak) in 1115 and then Kerak (Petra Deserti) around 1142, these castles provided the Franks with a considerable degree of influence along this corridor between Syria to the north and Egypt and Arabia to the south.
The kingdom of Jerusalem had larger and somewhat more secure neighbours than the other Latin principalities. To the southwest, Fāṭimid Egypt launched a number of campaigns against the kingdom via Ascalon, the southernmost port on the Mediterranean coast of Palestine. To the east, Damascene lands beyond the Jordan became attractive targets for raids as Frankish control over Palestine increased. The Franks became such a threat, or nuisance, that a treaty signed in 1108 granted them two-thirds of the revenues of the Sawād and Jabal ʿAwf regions, east of the Jordan, south of Damascus. Compared to the principalities to the north, the borders of the kingdom of Jerusalem remained relatively fixed, having spread to incorporate the towns along the coast as they fell, and swaying at times over certain regions east of the Jordan.
County of Tripoli
The foundations of the fourth and smallest Latin principality were established by Raymond of St Gilles. Raymond had contested control of Antioch and built up considerable lands in the surrounding region in 1098. Eventually losing out to Bohemond, he seems to have set his sights on Jerusalem, although he found himself outmanoeuvred once more, this time by Godfrey of Bouillon. When he subsequently failed to gain a foothold along the Mediterranean coast, Raymond set off for Constantinople, where he joined the disastrous Crusade of 1101. Fortunate enough to survive, he returned south and his gaze eventually settled on the wealthy city of Tripoli. Although the city would not fall until 1109, four years after Raymond’s death, his efforts to blockade Tripoli and conquer the surrounding area led him to be regarded as the county’s founder.
The delayed establishment of the county of Tripoli probably contributed to its restricted size and influence. The county reached from Tortosa (Ṭarṭūs), which Raymond of St Gilles captured upon his return to Syria following the Crusade of 1101, down to Jubayl (Gibelet, anc. Byblos). Largely through the military orders, Frankish control was also extended through the Homs–Tripoli corridor, the natural gap between the Lebanon and Antilebanon Mountains to the south and the Syrian Coastal Mountains to the north. The Franks’ ability to retain control of this region, which saw regular raiding back and forth throughout the twelfth century and much of the thirteenth, was due in large part to their acquisition, construction and retention of a number of castles. Although the Franks are most often associated with the great castles in this area, and much of what remains of them today was built by Frankish masons, the earliest phases of many were commissioned by Muslim or Byzantine figures. The region’s most famous castle, Crac des Chevaliers (Ḥiṣn al-Akrād), was originally constructed in the eleventh century by a local Kurdish ruler, but was subsequently rebuilt by the Franks and developed further by the Mamlūks.
Crac des Chevaliers. (Courtesy of Denys Pringle)
At times, the counts struggled to assert their autonomy from the kingdom of Jerusalem. When Raymond died in 1105, William-Jordan, who various sources claim was Raymond’s cousin, nephew or illegitimate son, inherited his lands in the East and continued the blockade of Tripoli. William-Jordan’s claim was challenged in 1109 when Bertrand of Toulouse, Raymond’s son and successor in Europe, arrived in the Levant. Bertrand received the support of Baldwin I of Jerusalem, who helped him displace William-Jordan and capture Tripoli in July, from which point Baldwin claimed some sort of suzerainty over the county. When Baldwin II later assumed the regency of Antioch, following the death of Roger in 1119, he gained unprecedented power and authority – Joscelin of Courtenay, his vassal as lord of Turbessel and then Prince of Galilee, owed Baldwin his elevation to the county of Edessa, and Pons of Tripoli, Bertrand’s son and successor, was compelled to openly pay homage to the king in 1122. Fears that the kingdom’s hegemony would spread across the entire Latin East subsided in 1123 when Baldwin was captured and Bohemond II of Antioch came of age. Fears flared up again following the deaths of Bohemond II in 1130 and Baldwin II the following year. Fulk of Anjou succeeded Baldwin as king through his marriage to Melisende, Baldwin’s daughter, but when he rode north to sort out the regency of Antioch, his interference was opposed by Pons of Tripoli and Joscelin I of Edessa, resulting in an open battle. It may have been in part a reluctance to call upon the king of Jerusalem for support that led Pons’ son, Raymond II of Tripoli, to grant considerable lands to the military orders, choosing to rely on them rather than the kings to the south.
Military Orders
The military orders followed monastic rules that incorporated a militarized mandate. The Templars, established during the reign of Baldwin II with the mission of protecting Christian pilgrims in the Holy Land, were the first order to officially mix the roles of monk and knight. Not long after, the Hospitallers, an order centred on a hospital in Jerusalem, which had cared for pilgrims since the late eleventh century, also adopted a military function. Additional orders were subsequently created, but only the Teutonic Knights, a German order of hospitallers established during the Third Crusade and militarized in 1198, came to hold any sizeable castles.
The orders would become significant political forces in and of themselves. Brothers were born of the knightly class and raised in the tradition of arms, while people of lower ranks assumed lower positions. Kinship networks and the support they received from prominent secular and clerical figures, notably Bernard of Clairvaux, led to the rapid expansion of the orders’ wealth and power through the twelfth century. Much of the wealth the orders came to command was acquired in Europe, donated by secular lords who hoped this would limit their time in purgatory, while land in the Levant was increasingly gifted or sold to them. With this wealth, the orders could finance the construction and maintenance of significant strongholds. Answerable only to the pope, the orders were technically immune from local taxes and authorities, giving them considerable autonomy.
Both the Templars and Hospitallers came to hold castles in the kingdom of Jerusalem and county of Tripoli, while the Templars also acquired a number in the Amanus Mountains, which divided the basin around Antioch from Cilicia. Following their establishment, the Teutonic Knights focused their resources on acquiring the lands once held by Joscelin III of Edessa in Galilee, which the titular count amassed thanks in large part to the patronage of his nephew, King Baldwin IV. Montfort was the order’s greatest castle, but this was no match for the Templar strongholds of Safed (Saphet) and ʿAtlit (Castrum Peregrinorum), or Belvoir (Kawkab), Crac and Margat of the Hospitallers.
Fāṭimids
Although rich, Egypt struggled internally and Fāṭimid authority declined steadily through the twelfth century. When al-Afḍal, who had captured Jerusalem in 1098, died in 1121, a half-century struggle for power ensued between figures who attempted to become or stay vizier, and the caliphs, who sought to assert their own authority.
Fāṭmid Egypt was separated from the kingdom of Jerusalem by the Sinai Peninsula, an overland journey of 250km from Tinnis, at the easternmost branch of the Nile Delta, to Ascalon on the Palestinian coast. The seat of Fāṭimid power was Cairo, which was at this time two cities: the old town of Fustat and new Cairo to the north (founded in 969). Cairo was the better fortified of the two; in 1168, the Fāṭimid vizier, Shāwar, was compelled to burn Fustat, lest it fall to the invading army of Franks led by Amalric. Under Saladin (al-Nāṣir Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn Yūsuf), a new citadel was built between the two, and the construction of new town walls to connect them continued through the reign of his nephew, al-Kāmil.
Cairo was linked to the coast by the two main branches of the Nile Delta. Near the mouth of the eastern branch was the fortified town of Damietta and its infamous Tower of the Chain, which controlled access up the river. To the west, at the end of the other main branch, Rosetta, which figures little in events of the crusades, was also fortified to some extent. At the very western end of the Delta, the classical city of Alexandria was defended by strong town walls and remained a significant port, although it was connected to the main shipping lane of the Rosetta branch by just a shallow canal. One of the few strongholds between Cairo and the coast was Bilbays, a fortified town one-third of the way from Cairo to Tinnis along a minor eastern branch of the Delta. Due to its position, Bilbays was besieged twice by invading Frankish armies in the 1160s.
The Fāṭimids maintained a presence in the Levant, through the towns along the coast, until Ascalon was lost in 1153. Egypt relied on its field army for protection, but the Levantine towns were so far away and the army took so long to assemble that they were dependent on the Egyptian fleet for relief when threatened. While raids might originate from these outposts, larger campaigns had to be organized in Egypt. The independence and vulnerability of these towns was revealed as most fell one by one through the first decade of the twelfth century; at the start of 1111, only Tyre and Ascalon remained. Tyre was secured by its legendary walls, while Ascalon benefited from its proximity to the Fāṭimid navy and its strategic value as a foothold on the far side of the Sinai Desert.
Damascus
In the early decades of the twelfth century, the Būrid rulers of Damascus were the most powerful figures between the Jordan and Orontes Rivers to the west and Euphrates to the east. The Būrids were the descendants of Ṭughtakīn, who overthrew the young son of Duqāq ibn Tutush shortly after Duqāq’s death in 1104. Būrid rule was relatively stable and unchallenged until Zankī’s capture of Aleppo in 1128.
The emirate was sandwiched between the Franks to the west and the Syrian Desert to the east. Within this corridor it ruled a considerable expanse of territory, from the Biqāʿ Valley in the north, between the Lebanon and Antilebanon Mountains, to the broad fertile region to the south known as the Ḥawrān. The most significant settlement in the north was Baalbek, from which the Biqāʿ was administered. The classical temple complex, which had been fortified following the Muslim conquest of the city in the 630s, was developed in a number of phases through to the early Mamlūk period. To the south, the traditional capital of the Ḥawrān was Bosra, while the eastern section appears to have been administered from Ṣarkhad. The citadels of both towns were later developed under the Ayyūbids.
Towns of the Orontes and Euphrates
East of the county of Tripoli, the southern stretch of the Orontes was dominated by Hama and Homs, at times independent emirates but often dominated by Aleppo or Damascus. Between them were the fortified towns of Rafaniyya and Salamiyya, overlooked respectively by the hill of Baʿrīn, upon which the Franks developed the castle of Montferrand, and the ancient fortress of Shmemis, which was rebuilt by the Ayyūbid ruler of Homs in the late 1220s. Deep in the Syrian Desert, more than 140km east of Homs, Palmyra (Tadmor) remained a trading post for traffic moving through the desert. Originally a dependency of Damascus, Palmyra was transferred to Homs under the Zankids. It appears to have been Saladin’s nephew, al-Mujāhid Shīrkūh of Homs, who later built the castle overlooking the ancient town, which replaced the temple of Bel, fortified by the Būrids, as the town’s citadel.
North of Hama, a number of fortified towns, including Shayzar, Apamea and Maʿarrat al-Nuʿmān dominated the region east of the Syrian Coastal Mountains. When under Muslim control, these typically fell under the ruler of Aleppo, who claimed authority over a similar collection of towns, including ʿAzāz, Buzāʿa and Manbij, to the north. East of the Euphrates, Ḥarrān remained a base of Muslim influence south of Edessa. Although the town of Manbij and lands to the north of Qalʿat Najm were subject to periodic Frankish rule in the early twelfth century, Muslim forces maintained control of the major bases along the Euphrates between Aleppo and Ḥarrān. The fortified towns of al-Raḥba and Raqqa dominated the lower sections of the upper Euphrates, while a series of castles, including Qalʿat Jaʿbar, Bālis and Qalʿat Najm, did so further upriver. Even as many of these strongholds came more firmly under the authority of Aleppo, they retained their frontier significance along the Euphrates, the natural boundary between western Syria and Mesopotamia.
Apamea. (monumentsofsyria.com)
Aleppo
Aleppo was the main opponent of Antioch and a powerful adversary of the Frankish lords of Turbessel to the north. Riḍwān of Aleppo was a strong ruler who recognized that Muslim rivals across the Euphrates posed a greater threat to his position and autonomy than did the princes of Antioch, leading him to decline offers of support from Mesopotamian figures. Although Riḍwān found himself in an uphill struggle against Tancred, order and stability were maintained until his death in 1113.
Rather than the Franks, it was Muslim rulers based in the Jazīra who ultimately captured Aleppo during the chaos that followed Riḍwān’s death. Īlghāzī ibn Artuq, ruler of Jerusalem before the city was taken by the Fāṭimids in 1098, had returned to Mesopotamia and, after serving as prefect (shiḥna) of Iraq for a period, established himself at Mardin. A particularly radical figure, Īlghāzī fought alongside and against various Muslim and Frankish neighbours whenever it served his interests. In 1117, Īlghāzī gained control of Aleppo, and, after briefly turning his attention towards Mayyāfāriqīn, decisively defeated Roger of Salerno, regent of Antioch, in 1119 at the battle of the Field of Blood (Lat. ager sanguinis, known in Arabic as the battle of Balāt). The victory devastated the army of Antioch and left Roger among the dead, allowing Īlghāzī to gain considerable territory east of Antioch and relieve the pressure that had been mounting against Aleppo. Īlghāzī died in 1122 and his nephew, Balak ibn Bahrām, emerged as his eventual successor. Balak provided Aleppo with strong leadership until his own death in 1124.
In 1128, Aleppo once more came under the rule of a lord from the Jazīra. ʿImād al-Dīn Zankī, who had been raised by Karbughā of Mosul, himself became ruler of Mosul in 1127; he took control of Aleppo the following year. Zankī’s ambitions towards Damascus quickly became clear, with both Hama and Homs falling under his authority during the 1130s. In 1144, Zankī did what many Muslim commanders before him had tried but failed to do: he took Edessa. Although remnants of the county would remain in Frankish control until the start of the 1150s, and Joscelin III would retain the title of count despite being born after the city’s capture, the loss of Edessa essentially brought an end to the oldest, if shortest lived, of the Latin principalities in the Levant.
Assassins
Between the county of Tripoli and principality of Antioch, the Nizārī Assassins, an Ismāʿīlī group of Shiites, came to rule a region in the Syrian Coastal Mountains. The Nizārīs had their origins in Persia, where Ḥasan-i Ṣabbāḥ established the movement from the stronghold of Alamūt at the end of the eleventh century. They quickly faced opposition and persecutions were initiated by Sultan Barkyāruq in 1101; nevertheless, the movement spread and a faction took root in the region of Aleppo, where there was already a significant Shiite community. Despite failed attempts to capture Apamea in 1106 and Shayzar in 1109, the Assassins continued to flourish in the region around Aleppo, thanks in part to Riḍwān, who did little to inhibit their freedoms and in turn benefited from the disruption they caused among his neighbours. During the instability that followed Riḍwān’s death in December 1113, a wave of persecutions was unleashed in the name of his young son and a new wave of intolerance was ushered in under Balak following his acquisition of Aleppo in 1123.
In late 1126, the Nizārī Assassins gained control of Bānyās. Their leader, Bahrām, had cultivated a relationship with Īlghāzī, who had recommended him to Ṭughtakīn of Damascus. Bahrām appears to have gained followers in Damascus but also the enmity of many locals, who were overwhelmingly Sunni. To both alleviate pressure in Damascus and provide Bahrām and his followers a safe base, Ṭughtakīn gave them Bānyās. Bahrām was killed in a raid shortly after and leadership passed to a certain Ismāʿīl, while Ṭughtakīn also died around this time and was succeeded by his son, Tāj al-Mulūk. As had happened in Aleppo, the new ruler of Damascus caved quickly to popular pressure and a violent wave of persecutions was unleashed from September 1129. The surge of opposition led Ismāʿīl to offer Bānyās to the Franks, receiving their protection in exchange. This allowed the Franks to use Bānyās as an assembly point and from it a large force marched up to the suburbs of Damascus before the end of 1129. A Damascene force was able to intercept the Franks before they could reach the city, forcing a standoff that eventually ended with the retreat of the Frankish army. Aside from the Second Crusade, this was the closest the Franks came to besieging Damascus. Meanwhile, the Assassins resettled themselves in the Syrian Coastal Mountains.
The Assassins had bought the castle of Qadmūs during their brief tenure at Bānyās. To this they added Maṣyāf, which they captured from a mamlūk of the Banū Munqidh ruler of Shayzar in 1140 or 1141. Similar to their brothers in Persia, as well as the Armenians and Franks, who ruled similar mountainous regions, the Assassins found comfort in their isolated strongholds. Although frequently forced to pay tribute to their Frankish neighbours, they earned the respect of most Christians and Muslims.
The community’s trademark method of influencing political events around them through high-profile and often public murders has provided the modern term for someone who commits such an act: assassin. Over the years they killed a number of influential figures, including Janāḥ al-Dawla of Homs (1103), the Muslim ruler of Apamea (1106), Mawdūd of Mosul (1113), Aḥmadīl ibn Wahsūdān of Marāgha (1116), Āqsunqur al-Bursuqī of Mosul and Aleppo (1126), ʿAbbāsid Caliph al-Mustarshid (1135) and Raymond II of Tripoli (1152). An attempt to murder Tāj al-Mulūk Būrī of Damascus failed in 1131, although the wounds he sustained during this attack probably contributed to his death the following year. Assassins twice failed to kill Saladin, first in early 1175 during the siege of Aleppo and then the following year as he besieged ʿAzāz. Unsurprisingly, Saladin turned on the community, besieging Maṣyāf in August 1176. According to one version of events, the Assassins chose to threaten Saladin during the siege, perhaps to avoid another failed attempt to kill him. This, along with some persuasive words from one of his uncles, convinced Saladin to lift the siege. The Nizārī Assassins continued to rule in the mountains until they were subdued by Baybars in the thirteenth century, coinciding with the Mongols’ suppression of the Nizārīs in Persia.
External Parties
In the early twelfth century, armies were occasionally organized in Iraq and sent west under the banner of jihad (jihād). Not unlike the efforts by the papacy to decrease violence in Europe by reorienting aggression towards the Middle East, these campaigns redirected hostilities towards the Franks, brought dissenting figures into line and enhanced the authority projected from Baghdad. It was not uncommon for the leaders of these armies, who included figures such as Mawdūd ibn Altūntakīn Āqsunqur al-Bursuqī, Bursuq ibn Bursuq and Īlghāzī, to use these forces to suppress their own coreligionist rivals before engaging the Franks.
Unfortunately for the counts of Edessa, these armies frequently passed directly through their lands. Edessa and Turbessel were subjected to a number of sieges, but their ability to hold out, until 1144 and 1150 respectively, ensured the surrounding regions remained under Frankish rule after each army withdrew. Muslim rulers welcomed the arrival of these armies in different ways. Many, including Riḍwān of Aleppo, regarded them with particular suspicion and considered them a threat to their independence. For rulers of smaller territories, such as the Banū Munqidh of Shayzar, they posed less risk, as they were no more threatening than the other larger regional rulers, while good relations with these distant powers might provide support and economic opportunities. The Franks were compelled to muster their collective strength with the approach of these Mesopotamian armies, creating another unpredictable threat. In some instances, the Franks helped to protect the independence of local Muslim rulers; in others, they took advantage of their combined strength to undertake their own siege operations.
The Franks benefited more clearly from the waves of crusaders who arrived in the Holy Land seeking spiritual benefits and adventure. Although the largest waves of crusaders have been enumerated by historians, smaller armed pilgrimages were undertaken by many notable figures. Considering only the counts of Flanders: Robert I (r. 1071–93) visited Jerusalem a decade before the First Crusade and fought the Turks alongside Byzantine forces; Robert II (r. 1093–1111) led a contingent of the First Crusade; Thierry (r. 1128–68) made four armed visits to the Holy Land; and Philip I (1168–91) took up arms in the East twice, dying at Acre during the Third Crusade. The Franks also enjoyed the frequent support of Italian naval forces, who proved extremely helpful during sieges along the Mediterranean coast, and more generally secured the link between the Latin principalities and Europe.
Frankish influence stemming from Antioch was steadily checked as Aleppo fell under Artuqid and then Zankid rule, while the county of Edessa, the most exposed of the Frankish principalities, collapsed following Zankī’s capture of its capital in 1144. When Zankī died in 1146, his lands in Syria and the Jazīra were divided between his successors: Mosul went to his eldest son, Sayf al-Dīn Ghāzī, and Aleppo passed to his younger son, Nūr al-Dīn. Relations between the brothers were amicable, allowing Nūr al-Dīn to continue his father’s programme of expansion in western Syria. His eventual capture of Damascus in 1154, after a decade of applying unsubtle pressure, left him without any significant Muslim adversaries in the region, and for the first time the kingdom of Jerusalem became the main opponent of a major multi-regional power.
As power concentrated under Nūr al-Dīn, the Franks failed to keep stride. Fulk, a European outsider unpopular with some barons, died in 1143, leaving a minor to succeed him: his young son, Baldwin III. To the north, Raymond of Poitiers, prince-regent of Antioch, died in 1149, also leaving an infant son to succeed him. More stable rule came to both regions following the Second Crusade (1147–49), when Baldwin III of Jerusalem came of age and a competent, if controversial, regent for Antioch was found in Reynald of Châtillon. When Reynald was captured and Baldwin died about two years later in February 1163, the transition was smooth for a change: Bohemond II of Antioch came of age just in time and Baldwin III was succeeded by his brother, Amalric. The ensuing face-off between Nūr al-Dīn and Amalric was not fought in Syria, but rather in Egypt.
At the urging of his Kurdish general Asad al-Dīn Shīrkūh, Nūr al-Dīn agreed to send forces into Egypt to ensure that the gasping Fāṭimid regime, crippled internally, did not fall to the Franks, to whom it had begun paying an annual tribute. The struggle between Zankid and Frankish forces in Egypt lasted from 1163 until the end of 1169, and eventually brought Egypt under Nūr al-Dīn’s rule. Shīrkūh had established himself as vizier of Egypt after occupying Cairo in January 1169, but he died only weeks later, at which point he was succeeded by his nephew, Saladin. Tensions between Nūr al-Dīn and Saladin began to emerge as the latter showed signs of quietly asserting his autonomy. From Egypt, members of Saladin’s family also conquered parts of North Africa, Nubia and Yemen. Nūr al-Dīn’s death in 1174 prevented any chance of an open rift developing between Egypt and Syria, and allowed Saladin to step into the power vacuum – he took Damascus from Nūr al-Dīn’s young son, al-Ṣāliḥ Ismāʿīl, before the year was out. Saladin then spent most of the following decade fighting Zankid and other Muslim rulers for control of western Syria and the Jazīra.
Only after subduing or considerably weakening most of his Muslim rivals and extending his control over much of greater Syria did Saladin finally devote significant attention to the Franks. In the south, unsuccessful attempts were made against Kerak in 1183 and 1184, part of an effort to remove Frankish influence from the vital desert road between Cairo and Damascus. He was also frustrated in Galilee. Despite his defeat of the army of Jerusalem in 1179, allowing him to take and destroy the incomplete Templar castle at Jacob’s Ford (Chastellet, Qaṣr al-ʿAtra), subsequent invasions failed to draw the army of Jerusalem into the field. Although raiding forces inflicted economic damage, his inability to engage the main Frankish army directly denied him the opportunity to commit his forces to protracted siege efforts. In 1187, perhaps taking a page from Nūr al-Dīn’s book, Saladin divided his forces, leading one contingent south and once more besieging Kerak, while another gathered east of the Sea of Galilee (Lake Tiberias) under his son, al-Afḍal. When a scouting party of the latter made contact with a force of Templars near the springs of Cresson, Saladin returned north, joined his armies and invaded Galilee in force. He knew that the army of Jerusalem would assemble to counter him but may have hoped that the Frankish defeat at Cresson would demand satisfaction, encouraging them to take a less conservative stance than they had in previous years. To further provoke the Franks, he invested Tiberias.
From about the 1150s, the Franks became increasingly reliant on the support of crusading Europeans to launch significant offensives, and by the time Saladin turned his attention towards the Latin principalities, Frankish military actions had become almost exclusively reactive. Part of this Frankish weakness was due to internal issues. In 1174, Amalric had been succeeded by his teenage son, Baldwin IV, who suffered from leprosy, and who was succeeded in turn by his seven-year-old nephew, Baldwin V, who ruled for little more than a year between 1185 and 1186. Baldwin V was succeeded by Guy of Lusignan, who became king through his wife, Sibylla (daughter of Amalric, sister of Baldwin IV and mother of Baldwin V).
Since 1174, the kingdom, under young and sickly kings, had passed through numerous regencies. The lack of strong and stable rule had led to rivalries among the barons, who vied for influence. When Saladin invaded in 1187, Guy, whose reign was contested, faced pressure to act and demonstrate his strength. Having led the army and fractious baronage into Galilee, Guy bowed to pressure to relieve Tiberias and move away from Ṣaffūriyya (Saforie), where the Franks held a defensive position and were well provided with water from local springs. About 10km west of Tiberias, near an extinct volcanic hill known as the Horns of Hattin, the army of Jerusalem was soundly defeated by Saladin’s forces on 4 July 1187.
With the Frankish army destroyed, Saladin was free to lay siege to the kingdom’s strongholds. Most cities, with the exception of Tyre, were taken by the end of the year, and blockades were established around the kingdom’s large inland castles. The following year, Saladin renewed his offensive, turning against the principality of Antioch. Having assembled his forces near Crac des Chevaliers, he led the army unopposed through the county of Tripoli. Reaching the coast, he turned north and carved a path to Latakia, capturing the Frankish strongholds along the way, with the exception of the Templar’s tower at Tortosa and the Hospitallers’ castle of Margat. From Latakia, Saladin turned inland, striking into the Syrian Coastal Mountains and the interior of the principality of Antioch. The Muslims captured a number of castles in the region and, having secured Jisr al-Shughr, one of the principal crossings over the Orontes, they moved north into the Antioch Basin. As a contingent of the army took up a shielding position facing the city, the strongholds around the Syrian Gates north of Antioch were captured. With the campaign season of 1188 nearing its end, Saladin compelled Bohemond III to accept a humbling truce. Meanwhile, further south, the strongholds of Safed, Belvoir, Kerak and Montreal, which had held out since the battle of Hattin, fell during the winter and following spring. Beaufort (Shaqīf Arnūn), the last of the kingdom’s inland castles, surrendered in 1190.
Guy of Lusignan had been captured at Hattin, but was set free months later – his release had been a term of Ascalon’s surrender. The king found himself shut out of Tyre by Conrad of Montferrat, an adventurous character who had arrived in the Levant only weeks after the battle of Hattin. Conrad, who had commanded the defence of Tyre through November and December of 1187, Saladin’s only unsuccessful siege during his campaigns following the battle of Hattin, had no intention of turning the city over to the landless king. Left with few options, Guy made a daring move: taking what forces he had with him, he invested Acre in late the summer of 1189.
Acre had been one of the first cities to fall after the battle of Hattin, and Saladin subsequently commissioned some repairs, entrusting this work to Bahāʾ al-Dīn Qarāqūsh, who had recently overseen the construction of Cairo’s new citadel. Saladin, who was then blockading Beaufort, was unprepared when news arrived that Guy was moving towards Acre. Although he reached Acre only days after Guy, Saladin was unable to force the Franks to withdraw. After some initial engagements, both sides settled in for what would be the first of two winters, the Franks besieging the city and the Muslims besieging the Franks. The following year, Saladin’s army swelled as forces returned from Mesopotamia, but so too was Guy aided by the arrival of crusaders responding to the Franks’ defeat at Hattin and subsequent loss of Jerusalem. Another season of stalemate ensued and it was not until the early summer of 1191, and the arrival of Richard I of England and Philip II of France, that the balance was tipped and the city fell.
It was these waves of crusaders, collectively known as the Third Crusade, that were responsible for extending Latin rule along the coast of the Levant for another century. Had Guy been defeated at Acre in 1189, there would have been little to stop Saladin from investing Tyre and the remaining strongholds of the county of Tripoli during the following year. Although the Third Crusade failed to retake Jerusalem, it regained a stretch of the Palestinian coast and helped preserve what remained of the Latin principalities. The preoccupation of Saladin’s heirs in the years that followed allowed for a measure of Frankish recovery, but the Franks would never regain the influence they had enjoyed in the mid-twelfth century.
A new period followed the upheaval between 1187 and Saladin’s death in 1193. Saladin had intended for his son, al-Afḍal, to succeed him as sultan, but had divided his realm among multiple family members, placing two of his other sons, al-ʿAzīz and al-Ẓāhir, as well as his brother, al-ʿĀdil, in influential subordinate positions. The arrangement quickly broke down and, after nearly a decade of infighting, al-ʿĀdil, who appears not to have initially sought to replace his nephews as leader of the Ayyūbid realm, emerged the ultimate victor.
For most of the first half of the thirteenth century, there was peace between the Franks and their Ayyūbid neighbours. This was in large part because there was a fairly even balance of power; although the sultan, based in Cairo, remained the wealthiest and most prestigious Ayyūbid figure, the rulers of Damascus and Aleppo, along with an assortment of secondary powers in Homs, Kerak and similar regional administrative centres, were able to hold him in check. The Franks emerged as another player in this system. Although their offensive capabilities were fairly limited, they invested heavily in their fortifications. These defences were rarely challenged, in part due to their strength but also because Muslim rulers were wary of encouraging another crusade, as had been precipitated by Saladin’s victories in 1187.
The Franks twice regained Jerusalem in the first half of the thirteenth century and their authority reached as far as the Sea of Galilee in the early 1240s. Most of their significant territorial gains, however, came through treaties, and effective control over many interior lands, well beyond the walls of their principal strongholds, was similarly conditional on Muslim endorsement. The military orders, chief among them the Templars and Hospitallers, were the most professional and effective Frankish fighting forces in the Levant. Although they were able to extract tribute from some of their smaller Muslim neighbours north of Damascus, the orders’ independent offensive capacities were limited to raiding.
Despite the relative peace between the Franks and their Muslim neighbours, there were plenty of hostilities. The contest for power and authority among the Ayyūbids continued after al-ʿĀdil’s death, as his sons and their successors fought for supremacy or autonomy, while the Franks were equally divided. Frederick II, the Holy Roman Emperor, had shown an interest in the Latin principalities since the early thirteenth century. Frederick had pledged to go on crusade but repeatedly postponed his departure. This cost him papal favour and caused the Fifth Crusade to grind to a halt after taking Damietta in 1219; its participants refused to march on towards Cairo until the emperor, or a direct representative, arrived to lead them. In 1225, Frederick married Isabella (or Yolande) of Jerusalem, granddaughter of Conrad of Montferrat and his wife, another Isabella (daughter of King Amalric and half-sister of Baldwin IV). Isabella died in 1227, shortly after giving birth to a son, Conrad. Through his wife and then their infant son, Frederick claimed the throne of Jerusalem.
Frederick’s repeated delays in fulfilling his vow to go on crusade led to his excommunication in 1227, which had not been lifted when he finally arrived in Palestine the following year. Officially outside the Catholic Church, Frederick received little support from the kingdom’s baronage or the military orders, who reported directly to the pope. In a symbolic act of defiance, the Templars even denied him entrance to ʿAtlit. The Teutonic Knights, a predominantly German order, were among the few who supported the emperor. Although Frederick negotiated the return of Jerusalem to the Franks, this was overshadowed by opposition to his presence. Upon his departure, ending what is strangely known as the Sixth Crusade, open war quickly broke out on Cyprus, spilling over to the mainland, between imperialist figures loyal to Frederick and a local baronial faction championed by the Ibelin family.
Tensions continued through the following decades as the Italian merchant communities of Venice, Genoa and Pisa clashed, each supported by certain baronial parties. The Templars and Hospitallers, between whom there had been a rivalry since the late twelfth century, often used these feuds as proxy wars, managing to avoid direct clashes for the most part. Confined largely to the coast but relatively secure behind their impressive town and castle walls, the Franks were left to compete with each other. There was no longer the same sense of desperation and appreciation of their united strength, which had contributed to the success of the First Crusade, nor the strong leadership at the top which had harnessed these forces to march Frankish armies up to 1,000km to support a fellow Latin prince, as had happened on numerous occasions in the twelfth century.
The Mongol Invasion
The arrival of Mongol forces transformed the political landscape of western Syria. Eastern Persia had been subjugated by the Mongols in the early thirteenth century, during the life of Genghis Khan, but it was Möngke, a grandson and eventual successor of Genghis Khan, who looked towards the Middle East and sought the conquest of the ʿAbbāsid caliphate, in whose name the Ayyūbids continued to rule. Möngke entrusted this initiative to his brother, Hülagü , who captured Baghdad in 1258 and had led his forces across the Euphrates by the start of 1260. Although Mardin was subject to a long siege, Aleppo was the first and only stronghold to offer any significant resistance in western Syria. Mongol dominance was far from certain when Hülagü’s forces arrived at Aleppo. Mayyāfāriqīn, east of the Euphrates, had been under siege since the autumn of 1258, but unbeknown to anyone at the time, the town’s ruler would be cruelly executed for his opposition after the Mongols gained entry in April 1260, by which point Aleppo had fallen.
Aleppo was besieged for a week from 18 January and the citadel held out for another month before it too was taken. Strongholds to the south were then abandoned or captured after reasonably brief sieges. Although the Mongols relied on an army composed primarily of mounted archers – a light and mobile cavalry force with a nomadic tradition, not unlike the Turks – they were perfectly capable of mounting siege operations, employing both artillery and miners at Aleppo.
All of the Ayyūbid leaders had recognized the threat posed by the Mongols and reached out to them in some way before 1260. Some, notably al-Nāṣir Yūsuf of Aleppo and Damascus, fled at the approach of Hülagü’s army, while others, including al-Manṣūr Muḥammad II of Hama and al-Mughīth ‘Umar of Kerak, made sure to reiterate their submission before their lands could be overrun. Meanwhile, al-Ashraf Mūsā, who had been dispossessed of Homs, his patrimony, in 1248, had courted the Mongols more aggressively before their arrival, for which he was rewarded with the nominal title of ‘sultan of Syria’ in 1260. Bohemond VI of Antioch and Tripoli had also submitted to the Mongols before they arrived at Aleppo, following the lead of his father-in-law, Hethum I of Armenia, a strong Mongol supporter. Further south, the Franks of Palestine were less eager to recognize Mongol suzerainty.
Hülagü withdrew from western Syria only months after arriving, departing to address the Mongol succession following the death of Möngke. The small occupying force that was left under his leading general, Kitbugha, was decisively defeated by the Mamlūks at ʿAyn Jālūt on 3 September 1260. Al-Saʿīd Hasan, the son of al-ʿAzīz ʿUthmān ibn al-ʿĀdil, who had been dispossessed of Ṣubayba and imprisoned by al-Nāṣir Yūsuf, but subsequently freed by the Mongols, was among those who fought against the Mamlūks, for which he was executed after the battle. Conspicuously, al-Ashraf Mūsā of Homs abandoned his Mongol allies as the fighting commenced – the Mamlūks were the new source of power in the region and he knew it.
Fears of another Mongol invasion dominated Mamlūk foreign policy over the following decades. After withdrawing from ʿAyn Jālūt, the Mongols had regrouped but were again defeated in December 1260 at the first battle of Homs. A second significant invasion did not materialize until 1281. Although supported by Leo II of Armenia, son of Hethum I, the campaign was brought to an end when the Mongols were defeated by the Mamlūks at the second battle of Homs. In a third major battle, that of Wādī al-Khazindār (or the third battle of Homs), Mongol forces, under Maḥmūd Ghāzān, a great-grandson of Hülagü, supported by Armenians and Georgians, defeated a large Mamlūk army on 23 December 1299, by which point the Franks had been pushed out of the Levant.
In Egypt, the professional regiments of mamlūks, upon which the Ayyūbid princes had come to rely, had taken power for themselves in the 1250s. These regiments were typically loyal to a single prince or emir, leading to uncertainty and the potential loss or gain of influence when a ruler died, as the successor’s mamlūks would expect to rise with their owner. The Mamlūk ascendency accompanied Louis IX of France’s inva- sion of Egypt, an episode known as the Seventh Crusade, during which Sultan al-Ṣāliḥ Ayyūb of Egypt died. Facing the prospect of losing their influence, a group of al-Ṣāliḥ ’s mamlūks overthrew the new sultan, al-Muʿaẓẓam Tūrānshāh, seizing power forthemselves. Authority was initially held in the name of a young Ayyūbid prince but eventually al-Muʿizz al-Dīn Aybak took power in his own name, establishing a new line of rulers that came to be known by their social origins.
The legitimacy of Mamlūk rule in Egypt was rejected by the Ayyūbid emirs of Syria, who recognized al-Nāṣir Yūsuf of Aleppo as the rightful Ayyūbid sultan. Al-Nāṣir, however, had attempted to stand against the Mongols and his inability to halt their advance led to the collapse of Ayyūbid rule in Syria. News of Aleppo’s fall, which reached al-Nāṣir Yūsuf at Damascus, where he was assembling his forces, led to panic and the collapse of his army. Al-Nāṣir Yūsuf was captured during the following weeks and later executed after Hülagü learned of his army’s defeat at ʿAyn Jālūt.
The victorious Mamlūk forces had been led by Sayf al-Dīn Qutuz. Once a mamlūk of Aybak, Quṭuz had risen to a position of prominence by 1259; at this point, with the Mongols threatening to invade Egypt, he deposed Aybak’s young son and successor. Following the battle of ʿAyn Jālūt, the Mongols were pushed back across the Euphrates, allowing the Mamlūks to step into the power vacuum left following the acute political disruption. For the first time since Saladin’s death, Egypt and Syria were effectively united, bringing the considerable resources of this region under a single centralized administration. The Mamlūks also fielded a professional army, one trained in an institutionalized manner and with a degree of professionalism beyond the military traditions with which most Frankish, Turkish and Ayyūbid nobles were raised. In October 1260, less than two months after the battle of ʿAyn Jālūt, Qutuz was usurped by Baybars, who, like Aybak, had been one of al-Ṣāliḥ Ayyūb’s mamlūks. During Baybars’ reign (1260–77), the Mongols, rather than the Franks, remained the greatest threat.
The Franks had been marginalized since the battle of Hattin and only with the arrival of large armies of European crusaders could they upset the status quo, as occurred during the Third, Fifth and Seventh Crusades, and to a lesser extent during the Barons’ Crusade in 1239–41. The Seventh Crusade, however, was the last major crusade to reach the Levant. Louis IX planned a second crusade, the Eighth Crusade, but this ended in Tunisia, where the French king died in 1270. Prince Edward of England had planned to take part in this campaign but continued on to the Levant when he heard of its defeat, reaching Acre in 1271. The climax of the prince’s crusade, sometimes called the Ninth Crusade, was a failed attack against Qāqūn (Caco), a tower that had formerly belonged to the lordship of Caesarea. Although none of these thirteenth-century crusades brought significant gains, the threat of triggering a major crusade from Europe, as Saladin had done in 1187, acted as leverage and a deterrent to pressuring the Franks too hard. This became a less significant threat following the spread and solidification of Mamlūk authority, and even less of a threat after the death of Louis IX of France.
Only when the Mongols were preoccupied with matters elsewhere did Baybars turn against the Franks. Aside from these opportune campaigns, Mamlūk policy typically sought to preserve peaceful relations with the Latin lordships, concluding these agreements from clear positions of strength. In 1265, the collapse of a Mongol assault against al-Bīra allowed Baybars, whose army had been mobilized, to besiege Frankish Caesarea (Qaysāriyya) and Arsūf (Arsur). He followed up the capture of these coastal strongholds the next year by seizing Safed, an important administrative centre in eastern Galilee at a crossroads along one of the main routes through Palestine from Cairo to Damascus. Beaufort and Antioch were taken in 1268. The fall of the latter precipitated the collapse of the surrounding principality, leaving only a couple of outposts in the south. The next Mamlūk offensive against the Franks came in 1271 and targeted the major strongholds of the Homs–Tripoli corridor, the last significant inland projection of Frankish power. The capture of Crac des Chevaliers and ʿAkkār (Gibelacar) impaired the Franks’ ability to raid into the plain around Homs and removed the remaining obstacles that might interfere with a direct assault against Tripoli. The seizure of Montfort later in the year extended Mamlūk authority across western Galilee.
Ibn ʿAbd al-Ẓāhir: Baybars’ siege of Caesarea, 1265
On Thursday, 9 Jumādā I 663 [27 February 1265], Baybars reached Caesarea and immediately surrounded its walls. The Muslim troops then assaulted it, throwing themselves into the fosse and ascending on every side, climbing up by means of iron horse-pegs, their shackle-ropes and halters on to which they hung; standards were raised, the gates of the city were burned and its guards slain, the occupants fled to the citadel . . . Trebuchets were then erected against the citadel, which was one of the best and most strongly fortified . . . The King of France [Louis IX] had brought flint [granite] columns for it and built it so effectively that in the coastal territories there had never been seen a stronger citadel or one better fortified or of loftier construction than this. The sea encircled it and kept its fosse full; its walls could not be sapped because of the columns built into them, so that they would not fall even if undermined . . . Penthouses and siege machines were constructed and arrows brought from ʿAjlun were distributed, four thousand arrows to each leader of one hundred horsemen and the same for the ḥalqa* and the soldiers. The Sultan issued orders for the transportation of firewood and of stones for the trebuchets, bestowing robes of honour on the amīr jāndār, ʿIzz al-Dīn al-Afram, for his zeal with the trebuchets, and on the men who were in charge of them . . . Meanwhile, Baybars continued the siege and the fight, remaining in the church [of St Peter] with a group of archers, without visiting his tent, shooting and preventing the Franks from going to the top of the citadel. Occasionally he would mount one of the wheeled siege machines that were drawn up to the walls and on reaching them he would attack the breaches in person. One day he placed a shield on his arm and engaged in the fight, returning only when several arrows had become lodged in it.
On the night of Wednesday, 15 Jumādā I [5 March], the Franks fled, abandoning the citadel and its contents. The Muslims climbed the walls and burned the gates, entering from both its upper and lower parts, and the dawn prayer was called from its summit. The Sultan went up to the citadel and divided the town amongst his emirs, his attendants, his mamlūks and his ḥalqa, after which the citadel’s destruction was begun. He went down and, taking a pickaxe in his hand, began to destroy it in person; seeing him thus, the officers followed his example and did the work themselves.
* A Mamlūk regiment of mostly free-born troops.
(Adapted from Ibn ʿAbd al-Ẓāhir, trans. al-Khowayter, 2:555–7.)
Following the brief reigns of two of Baybars’ sons, another of al-Ṣāliḥ Ayyūb’s mamlūks, Qalāwūn, became sultan. Qalāwūn captured the last remaining strongholds of the principality of Antioch and county of Tripoli, with the exception of Tortosa, before his sudden death in 1290. He was succeeded by his son, al-Ashraf Khalīl, who lost no time executing the plan his father had been organizing at the time of his death, throwing the might of the Mamlūk war machine against Frankish Acre. Much as the Frankish siege of Acre in 1189–91 had extended Latin rule in the Levant, the Mamlūk siege in 1291 effectively ended the Franks’ tenure in the region. With the fall of Acre, the remaining Frankish strongholds were abandoned.
The history of the crusades is often cast as a binary conflict between European Christians and Middle Eastern Muslims. While this might be true in a very general sense, at least from a distant European point of view, the reality on the ground was far more complex. Less than a decade after the conclusion of the First Crusade, Muslims and Franks were fighting alongside each other against rival coreligionists in significant pitched battles and concluding peace agreements that led to the formal sharing of important regions. Far from anomalies, such examples of opportunistic cross-faith alliances and land-sharing arrangements can be found throughout the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Before his death around 1130, Fulcher of Chartres, one of the participants of the First Crusade who opted to remain in the Levant, summed up the Latin experience in the East:
For we who were Occidentals have now become Orientals. He who was a Roman or a Frank has in this land been made into a Galilean or a Palestinean. He who was of Rheims or Chartres has now become a citizen of Tyre or Antioch. We have already forgotten the places of our birth; already these are unknown to many of us or not mentioned any more . . .
People use the eloquence and idioms of diverse languages in conversing back and forth. Words of different languages have become common property known to each nationality, and mutual faith unites those who are ignorant of their descent. Indeed it is written, ‘The lion and the ox shall eat straw together’. He who was born a stranger is now as one born here; he who was born an alien has become as a native.12
To some extent, Fulcher’s utopian remarks were part of an effort to attract more Europeans to settle in the Levant; however, the degree of cohabitation, coexistence and even cooperation among the different cultural groups of the region should not be understated. The anecdotes of Usāma ibn Munqidh, which must also be taken with a grain of salt, speak to the level of interaction between Franks and Muslims through the twelfth century. When the Franks arrived and began to impose their rule over the areas they conquered, life probably changed little for most elements of society: farmers continued to farm; traders continued to trade.
Usāma ibn Munqidh: an encounter with Europeans in Jerusalem, mid-twelfth century
Anyone who is recently arrived from the Frankish lands is rougher in character than those who have become acclimated and have frequented the company of Muslims . . .
Whenever I went to visit the holy sites in Jerusalem, I would go in and make my way up to the al-Aqṣā Mosque, beside which stood a small mosque that the Franks had converted into a church. When I went into the al-Aqṣā Mosque – where the Templars, who are my friends, were – they would clear out the little mosque so that I could pray in it. One day, I went into the little mosque, recited the opening formula, ‘God is great!’ and stood up in prayer. At this, one of the Franks rushed at me and grabbed me and turned my face towards the east, * saying, ‘Pray like this!’ ...
The Templars grabbed him and threw him out. They apologized to me, saying, ‘This man is a stranger, just arrived from the Frankish lands sometime in the past few days. He has never before seen anyone who did not pray towards the east.’
* Whereas Latin Christians typically pray in an easterly direction, Muslims pray towards Mecca. In Jerusalem, this is an angle of about 157˚, or 23˚ east of south.
(Adapted from Usāma ibn Munqidh, trans. Cobb, p. 147.)
Parallel calls for crusade and jihad were issued through the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Following Urban II’s sermon and the popular response and development of a broader crusading movement in Europe, similar polemics directed against the Franks gradually became more prevalent among Muslims of the Middle East. ʿAlīibn Tā hir al-Sulamī, a Damascene jurist who died in 1106, appears to have been the first to present the arrival of the crusaders as an act of religious warfare and to call for a jihad (in an armed sense) against them. The rhetoric of intolerance, then as now, was typically strongest amongst those with minimal daily interaction with the groups they targeted, and gained the support of individuals equally far from the fighting. This is among the themes highlighted by Usāma ibn Munqidh, who had regular contact with the Franks and crusaders during the twelfth century.
Intrafaith Conflict
Fighting among coreligionists is a theme that runs throughout the period of the crusades. Elements of the First Crusade came to blows with Byzantine forces, attacking Constantinople at one point, and Tancred and Baldwin of Boulogne (later Baldwin I of Edessa and then Jerusalem) clashed in Cilicia later in 1097. Meanwhile, the sons of Tutush were feuding in western Syria, Karbughā of Mosul was in conflict with the Dānishmands, and al-Afḍal’s Egyptian forces took Jerusalem from Īlghāzī and his brother in 1098. This is perhaps less surprising when considering the broader context: the sons of Sultan Malikshāh were fighting with each other for control of the Seljuk Empire, and Europe’s greatest monarchs, King Philip I of France and Emperor Henry IV, were both in conflict with the papacy at the time. Baronial warfare was common in Europe, while periods of civil war had only recently ended in Byzantium and Fāṭimid Egypt.
Through the following decades, Frankish infighting often stemmed from the infrequency at which the Latin princes were succeeded by adult sons. In 1132, King Fulk’s efforts to interfere in the regency of Antioch led to an open battle with Count Pons of Tripoli, an event that did not escape the notice of neighbouring Muslims. A couple of years later, Fulk seems to have faced a revolt, led by the count of Jaffa, and, following Fulk’s death, a brief civil war broke out when his son, King Baldwin III, came of age and attempted to assert his right to rule independent of his formidable mother, Melisende. Deeper discord accompanied the reign of Baldwin IV, whose leprosy fated him to an early death without a natural successor. The polarizing politics of the succession crisis that followed foreshadowed the nature of the intraFrankish conflicts of the thirteenth century.
Meanwhile, Muslim rulers were far more regularly and obviously drawn into conflicts with coreligionist neighbours and subordinates. Although Nūr al-Dīn and Saladin both came to champion the cause of jihad against the Franks, this was at least in part a convenient means of building support and maintaining legitimacy while they dealt with rival Muslim powers – each spent the first decade of his reign fighting fellow Muslims more often than the Franks.
Intrafaith conflict became the norm through the first half of the thirteenth century: Saladin’s heirs fought with each other for power and influence while Frankish factions did likewise. Damascus was besieged no fewer than nine times by Ayyūbid armies between Saladin’s death in 1193 and 1246. Meanwhile, Frankish supporters and opponents of Frederick II fought openly at times and, as Louis IX was crusading in Egypt, the Pisans and Genoese turned Acre into a battlefield for a month in 1249. Tensions remained and the conflict among the Italian communities ultimately climaxed from 1256 in the War of St Sabas, pitting the Venetians and Templars against the Genoese and Hospitallers, each side drawing in supporters from the local baronage. By this point, the military orders had long been the Franks’ most effective fighting forces and, although open fighting between the orders was rare, they regularly backed opposing parties. As willing as both the Franks and Muslims were to fight members of their own religion, many were almost as prepared to fight alongside neighbours who held different beliefs.
Interfaith Cooperation
Seven years after a Fāṭimid army had taken Jerusalem from the Seljuks, Shiite Egyptian forces were join ed by Sunni Damascene troops at Ascalon and together they invaded the kingdom of Jerusalem in August 1105. A Damascene raid in late 1118 corresponded with another Fāṭimid invasion. As Frankish authority spread and significant populations of Muslims found themselves living peacefully under Frankish rule, Albert of Aachen claims that at least one group of Franks defected to the Muslims. At the siege of Sidon in 1107, he notes that a number of apostates originally from Provence, once part of Raymond of St Gilles’ party, were found among the town’s defenders.
The most famous and perhaps clearest episode of interfaith cooperation on the battlefield took place near the castle of Turbessel. In 1108, Tancred, as regent of Antioch, supported by Riḍwān of Aleppo, defeated Jā wulī Saqā o, who was joined by Baldwin II of Edessa, Josc elin of Courtenay and a force of Armenians. Rivalry and pragmatism were to blame for this peculiar episode. Jāwulī was tangled up in a broader conflict for control of the Jazīra and, having recently defeated Jokermish of Mosul and then Qilij Arslān, had gained possession of Baldwin II, a captive of Jokermish since 1104. Jāwulī ransomed Baldwin, gaining money and an ally in the process. In turn, Baldwin rallied the support of his cousin, Joscelin, and most of the local Armenians against Tancred, who had become regent of Edessa during Baldwin’s captivity but now refused to return the county. Like each of the other parties, Riḍwān was an opportunistic figure. Although he was often an opponent of Antioch, an alliance in this instance placated Tancred and kept Jāwulī’s influence out of western Syria. As one of the victors, Riḍwān was able to extend Aleppan authority overQalʿat Jaʿbar.
The situation in the north was more conducive to alliances that cut across religious lines because there were more potential players: a collection of smaller powers who were often willing to set aside longstanding rivalries to confront a greater threat. The Franks were similarly able to look past rivalries and grievances to offer mutual support when required. Campaigns organized from Baghdad had a particular ability to unite both Franks and Muslims. When Bursuq ibn Bursuq led such an army into western Syria in 1115, he found Baldwin I of Jerusalem, Roger of Antioch, Ṭughtakīn of Damascus and other Muslim leaders united against him.
In the south, the number of parties was limited; nevertheless, it was not unheard of for disgruntled or dispossessed figures to look to a traditional enemy for support. When the Franks moved out to confront the joint Fāṭimid-Damascene invasion of 1105, they may have been joined by Baktāsh ibn Tutush , the dispossessed brother of Duqāq of Damascus. When the Franks besieged Aleppo in 1124–25, they were joined by the adventurer Dubays ibn Sadaqa, who afterwards returned to Mesopotamia and eventually found his way intoZankī’s service. In 1111, fears in Egypt that Shams al-Khalīfa, the governor of Ascalon, might submit himself to Baldwin I were so great that it was deemed too risky to try to replace him. Similar fears among those in the town led to his murder within a few months. About twenty-three years later, when Hugh of Jaffa was accused of treason, he fled to Ascalon rather than meet his accuser, his stepson, Walter of Caesarea, in single combat. After gaining the support of the Muslim governor, he returned to Jaffa, where he was nearly besieged by Fulk before the patriarch intervened and organized a settlement that involved Hugh’s exile.
The death of Ṭughtakīn and Zankī’s acquisition of Aleppo in 1128 marked the beginning of a new dynamic in western Syria, one in which Aleppo would replace Damascus as the dominant power. In early 1135, Shams al-Mulūk, the grandson of Ṭughtakīn, attempted a coup against his own administration, threatening to surrender Damascus to the Franks unless Zankī took control of the city. This precipitated a revolt among his emirs and his murder. When Zankī moved against Damascus a few years later, following the succession of the young Mujīr al-Dīn in 1140, he was frustrated by the arrival of a Frankish force. Mujīr al-Dīn’s regent, Muʿīn al-Dīn Unur, had struck an agreement with Baldwin II, offering to help the Franks take Bānyās in exchange for their support. The combined Frankish-Damascene force went on to successfully besiege Bānyās. As it turned out, the governor of Bānyās, who had recognized Zankī’s suzerainty in late 1137, had been killed only days earlier during a raid towards Tyre, having encountered Raymond of Antioch as the prince marched south to join Baldwin II.
In 1148, Raymond II of Tripoli faced a threat to his authority when his cousin and rival claimant to the county, Bertrand of Toulouse, seized Arima (al-ʿUrayma). Lacking the strength to retake the castle himself, Raymond reached out to Nūr al-Dīn of Aleppo and Muʿīn al-Dīn of Damascus. Nūr al-Dīn seized the opportunity. He captured Arima, which he made no attempt to hold, and, to Raymond’s delight, Bertrand was taken away into captivity, destined to remain a resident of the Aleppan dungeons until 1159. Raymond’s son and namesake, Raymond III, would later engage in an equally scandalous alliance with neighbouring Muslims, permitting Saladin to send raiders through his lands on 1 May 1187.
In 1147, the ruler of Ṣarkhad, who had fallen out with Mujīr al-Dīn’s administration, offered the Franks Ṣarkhad and Bosra in exchange for adequate compensation, precipitating a race for control of the Ḥawrān. Muʿīn al-Dīn placed both strongholds under siege and Nūr al-Dīn, with whom he had recently made peace, moved south to help. Using the topography to their advantage and cutting off the Franks from sources of water and pasture, the Muslims successfully shielded their besieging forces, ultimately enabling Muʿīn al-Dīn to secure both strongholds. Despite this episode and the Second Crusade’s move against Damascus the following year, the relationship between Damascus and Jerusalem was not beyond salvaging.
Muʿīn al-Dīn died in 1149 and Mujīr al-Dīn took power in his own name. Although the young ruler had recognized Nūr al-Dīn’s nominal suzerainty in 1150, he appealed to the Franks for help the following year. Like his father a decade before, Nūr al-Dīn, having marched against Damascus to apply unsubtle pressure, was compelled to withdraw with the arrival of Frankish forces. On this occasion, however, the Franks were unable to collect their promised compensation, Bosra, as they had Bānyās in 1140. Not long after, Nūr al-Dīn concluded a new peace with Damascus before laying siege to Bosra himself. The town’s ruler had been able to govern fairly autonomously, using the balance of power between Jerusalem, Damascus and Aleppo to his benefit. But the era of small independent rulers was coming to an end, signalled by Nūr al-Dīn’s acquisition of Damascus in 1154.
The contest for Egypt, which dominated the 1160s, was triggered when Shāwar, vizier of Egypt, was challenged and forced to flee by a rival, Ḍirghām. After regaining his position with the support of Nūr al-Dīn and forces under Shīrkūh, Shāwar called on Amalric for assistance, hoping to play the Franks and Zankids against each other. Although the Franks installed a garrison in Cairo for a short period from 1167, Shīrkūh successfully asserted control over Egypt around the start of 1169. In a strangely similar parallel, a source sympathetic to Raymond III of Tripoli states that a Muslim force was stationed in Tiberias in 1186, ready to defend the count if attacked by Guy of Lusignan. Raymond was the leading opponent of Guy and an ally of Saladin, and it was his relationship with the latter that led Raymond to allow Saladin to send a party of raiders through the lordship of Tiberias (the principality of Galilee, which Raymond held in the name of his wife, Eschiva Bures) the following year. Although Raymond stipulated that the raiders should seize no property and return back across the Jordan the same day, he was nevertheless allowing a Muslim force to invade and scout the region, unknowingly setting in motion events that would lead to the battle of Hattin two months later.
Following their humbling in the late 1180s, the Franks were primarily observers of the Ayyūbid power contest. This changed in 1240, when the kingdom of Jerusalem joined an alliance led by al-Ṣāliḥ Ismāʿīl of Damascus against his nephew, al-Ṣāliḥ Ayyūb of Egypt. In return for their involvement, the Franks received considerable territory in northern Palestine, including the strongholds of Safed and Beaufort. The garrison of Beaufort, however, declined to give up the castle, compelling Ismāʿīl to besiege it himself. In the autumn of 1242, al-Jawād Yūnus, a one-time claimant to Damascus, joined the Franks on a raid around Nablus. Two years later, Frankish forces made up a significant component of the Syrian side at the battle of Forbie, where they were crushed by the Egyptian army. Aside from the Seventh Crusade, this defeat was effectively the last major field engagement involving Frankish forces.
In the second half of the thirteenth century, it was more often the Franks who sought the support of neighbours. Bohemond VI, as count of Tripoli, may have asked his Mongol allies for Baalbek following their capture of the city in 1260. In the years that followed, others called on the Mamlūks for support against their rivals. In the feud between Bohemond VII and his vassal Guy II of Gibelet, the latter is said to have offered to divide Tripoli with Qalāwūn in exchange for assistance taking the city. Guy’s attempt to take Tripoli failed in January 1182 and he was later executed at Nephin.
Hospitality and Diplomacy
It takes only a quick glance at the anecdotes provided by Usāma ibn Munqidh or Ibn Jubayr to appreciate the regularity with which Muslims and Franks interacted: diplomats were exchanged; pilgrimages were made; trade flourished. Military leaders were even entertained through the course of certain conflicts. Following the siege of Alexandria in 1167, Saladin was hosted for a time in the Frankish siege camp outside the city. In 1244, al-Manṣūr Ibrāhīm, who led the Muslim forces alongside the Franks at the battle of Forbie, was entertained in Acre ahead of the battle. In the days leading up to the battle of ʿAyn Jālūt in 1260, Baybars may also have visited Acre, while refugees from Damascus, fleeing the advancing Mongols, were welcomed into Tyre from around the end of 1259. As allies of al-Ṣāliḥ Ismāʿīl in the early 1240s, the Franks had a similar opportunity to visit Damascus, where they bought weapons and even siege engines. A decade later, Louis IX of France took advantage of a comparable peace, sending John the Armenian there to buy horn and glue for making crossbows. Diplomatic and intelligence networks had developed so quickly that, in 1126, ʿIzzal-Dīn Masʿūd learned about the death of his father, Āqsunqur al-Bursuqī, in whose name he was administering Aleppo, from a Frankish message sent from Antioch, which reached him before the official message, or even rumours, arrived from Mosul.
* * *
The period of the crusades was a dynamic one, in which parties from as far away as northwestern Europe and central Asia travelled to the Middle East to fight for control of the Levant. Although religion motivated many to take up the cause of crusade or jihad, driving them to travel hundreds if not thousands of kilometres, others fought to satisfy more worldly ambitions. For local figures, these conflicts were perhaps far less religiously motivated or dissimilar to those elsewhere than we might initially imagine – if we could peel away the religious rhetoric, the regional fighting between lords and emirs might look much like the patterns of conflict seen in other parts of the Middle East and Europe. To do so, however, seems impossible, because the religious rhetoric permeated contemporary language and considerations of faith influenced almost everyone to some degree.