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Saturday, August 30, 2025

The Templar Role in the Loss at Hattin

The devastating defeat of the combined Christian army at the Battle of Hattin on July 4, 1187, was one of the most significant disasters in medieval military history.  Christian casualties at the battle were so enormous, that the defense of the rest of the Kingdom of Jerusalem became impossible, and so the defeat at Hattin led directly to the loss of the entire kingdom including Jerusalem itself. The Templars share a significant portion of the blame for this catastrophe which was far from inevitable.


Saladin had invaded the Kingdom of Jerusalem four times previously ― and each time the feudal army of Jerusalem, commanded by King Baldwin IV, sent him back across the Jordan with a (figurative) bloody nose. Indeed, his first invasion in 1177 had resulted in a devastating and humiliating defeat (See: Ten True Tales of the Knights Templar 3: The Battle of Montgisard). To be sure, subsequent encounters had been less decisive and throughout the decade between 1177 and 1187 Saladin had consolidated his own power over Syria while retaining his hold on Egypt. In consequence, the invading army of 1187 was the largest Saladin had yet assembled, numbering an estimated 40,000 troops (France, p.82), but still it was not invincible. The Christians could field slightly over 20,000 men (France, p.81), and had often won battles with much more disadvantageous odds more than once in the past.


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

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



In 1185 King Baldwin IV died and was succeeded by his eight-year-old nephew Baldwin V. But on the boy king’s death a year later, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar played a decisive role in helping the detested Guy de Lusignan and his wife Sibylla to usurp the crown of Jerusalem without the consent of the High Court ― a constitutional necessity.
 
The Grand Master at this time was a certain Gerard de Ridefort. Ridefort was a knight of Flemish or Anglo-Norman ancestry, who in 1179 had risen to the position of Marshal of the Kingdom of Jerusalem ― a secular title ― presumably due to the influence of Count Raymond of Tripoli.  A year later, however, he fell out with Tripoli, allegedly because the Count reneged on a promise to give him an heiress to wife. According to contemporary accounts, Ridefort was particularly insulted because the heiress in question went instead to a Pisan merchant, i.e. a  man of inferior social status, a class of men that Ridefort “despised as usurers and merchants.” (Barber, p. 110)  Whatever the reason, it was only afterwards that Ridefort joined the Knights Templar.  Yet by 1183 he was already seneschal of the order. He was elected Grand Master in early 1185, and just over a year later, when Baldwin V died, Ridefort threw his weight behind Sibylla and Guy de Lusignan.  He allegedly sealed off Jerusalem with Templar troops to prevent the majority of the barons (who opposed Lusignan) from entering the Holy City with their men. He then bullied the Master of the Hospital into giving up the key to the royal treasury to enable a coronation to take place.

So Sibylla and Guy were crowned and anointed without the consent of the High Court of Jerusalem, making them usurpers.  Although the majority of the barons caved-in and were prepared to accept the fait accompli, two important barons refused. Baldwin, Baron of Ramla and Mirabel, preferred to abdicate his titles in favor of his small son and leave the kingdom rather than pay homage to Lusignan. Raymond of Tripoli likewise refused to do homage to Guy and withdrew to his wife’s lands of Galilee.  
 
According to Barber, Ridefort urged Lusignan to take up arms to force Tripoli to do homage.  Tripoli responded by concluding a defensive pact with Saladin.  This, of course, was outright treason, and Ridefort was more vocal than ever in urging Lusignan to attack Tripoli ― even though this meant civil war and would have invited a Saracen invasion (Barber, p. 111). It is hard to fathom from this distance in time how irritation over a broken promise could lead the Grand Master of the Knights Templar to be willing to put the Holy Land at risk for the sake of attacking his old mentor.


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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

We will never know.

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

Yet the highest price was paid by Ridefort’s brothers. The men he was supposed to love and care for. Of the estimated 600 knights of the militant orders, 230 survived the two-day battle to be taken prisoner.  These men were then publicly executed at Saladin’s orders in a spectacle that has rightly earned revulsion. Imad ad-Din writes:
…[T]he Sultan sought out the Templars and Hospitallers who had been captured and said: ‘I will purify the land of these two impure races.’ He assigned fifty dinar to every man who had taken one of them prisoner, and immediately the army brought forward at least a hundred of them. He ordered that they should be beheaded…With him was a whole band of scholars and Sufis and a certain number of devout men and ascetics; each begged to be allowed to kill one of them….There were some who slashed and cut cleanly…some who made fools of themselves.” (Gabrieli, p. 138.)
Thus the only Templar to survive Hattin was Ridefort himself.  And he, rather than honor the Templar Rule as his predecessor Odo de St. Amand had done, allowed himself to be ransomed! He would not die until he made yet another foolish and ill-advised charge (that again cost the lives of many of his brothers) during the siege of Acre.

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


Sources:

France, John. Hattin. Oxford University Press, 2015.
Barber, Malcolm. The New Knighthood: A History of the Order of the Temple.
Cambridge University Press, 1994.
Gabrieli, Francesco. Arab Historians of the Crusades. University of California Press, 1969.
 
"The Tale of the English Templar" is a fictional work that depicts the destruction of the Knight's Templar. 


An escaped Templar, an old knight, and a discarded bride embark on a quest for justice in the face of tyranny. 

 
 
The Knights Templar were at the height of their popularity in the late 12th century and appear in my novels set in this period. 


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"St. Louis Knight" is a novel set against the backdrop of the Seventh Crusade and St. Louis' sojourn in the Holy  Land. A Templar novice and King Louis are the central characters. 
It is now available in audiobook as well as paperback and ebook.

 
 A crusader in search of faith --
A lame lady in search of revenge --
And a King who would be saint.

St. Louis' Knight takes you to the Holy Land in the 13th century, and a world filled with knights, nobles, prophets -- and assassins. 
(Available in Audiobook)

Saturday, August 23, 2025

An Avoidable Defeat - The Battle of Hattin, July 4, 1187

 On July 4, 1187 the Sultan Saladin destroyed a Christian army in what has gone down in history at the Battle of Hattin. The victory was so complete that it led almost immediately to the loss of nearly the entire kingdom of Jerusalem. Yet there was nothing inevitable about that defeat. Below is a summary of the campaign.

 

On 27 June 1187 Saladin’s army crossed the Jordan. For his sixth incursion into the Kingdom of Jerusalem, the sultan had mustered a force estimated at 30,000 regular troops augmented by unknown numbers of volunteers motivated by jihad. The Franks fielded their entire feudal army of 1,200 knights, including about 600 knights from the militant orders and 50 knights from Antioch. Notably, this army included the full contingent of troops from Lusignan’s erstwhile insubordinate barons of Tripoli and Transjordan. The Frankish knights were supported by an equal or greater number of turcopoles and roughly 18,000 infantry.

The Frankish army mustered at the springs of Sephorie, which provided abundant water for the entire force. Saladin led his army along the west bank of the Sea of Galilee to besiege Tiberias. The city rapidly fell but the citizens and garrison withdrew into the citadel, which was held by Raymond of Tripoli’s wife and the hereditary heiress, Eschiva of Tiberias. She sent word to the feudal army requesting relief.

Lusignan called a council of war, as was customary in medieval armies, to discuss the strategy. Although the Lady of Tiberias’ four adult sons pleaded passionately for the army to lift the siege of Tiberias, the Lord of Tripoli recommended caution. He urged the king to send to Antioch for more troops and suggested that meanwhile the army should withdraw toward Acre. This, he argued, would lure the Saracens deeper into the kingdom and expose them to the frustrations of heat, thirst and living off the land.

Such a strategy was totally at odds with the traditions of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. The Franks had either taken the offensive or drawn up their lines of defense as close to the borders as practical. Tripoli’s strategy would also have exposed large swaths of the kingdom to enemy action. Unsurprisingly, the suggestion met with outraged rejection, particularly from Tripoli's inveterate opponents Reynald de Châtillon and the Templar Master Rideford. They called Tripoli a traitor and claimed his advice was designed to benefit Saladin. Consensus was found around a third option: staying at Sephorie and making Saladin come to them across the comparatively arid plateau between the Sea of Galilee and Sephorie.

During the night, however, the Templar Master persuaded Lusignan to overturn the consensus decision and instead to strike out across the barren plateau to relieve Tiberias. No chronicler was in the tent with Lusignan and Rideford. We do not and cannot know what was said or why.  However, we know Rideford was a rash man, who apparently knew only one  command: ‘attack’. Furthermore, he had stolen money deposited with the Temple by King Henry II of England in order to hire additional troops. While this initially gave him greater leverage over Lusignan, it also meant he risked retribution from King Henry. German historian Hans Eberhard Mayer argues: ‘[The theft] could be justified, and Henry’s wrath cooled, only by a spectacular success such as could not be achieved if the army simply sat it out at [Sephorie]….’[i] King Guy was receptive to the Templar’s advice because he had been severely criticized for failing to seek battle in 1183. He seems to have believed a major victory would bolster his fragile standing with his subjects while inaction would damage it further.

At dawn on 3 July 1187, Lusignan ordered the army to advance toward Tiberias. They  took the old Roman road to the springs of Turan, which they reached before mid-day. Military historian John France argues that at Turan the Franks would have been in an ‘unassailable position’ while yet able cut Saladin off, if he tried to move deeper into the kingdom. Had he stopped here, Lusignan would have been acting wisely and within the agreed strategic framework. Instead, he ordered the army to continue onto the plateau.

Saladin thanked Allah. In a letter, Saladin wrote: ‘Satan incited Guy to do what ran counter to his purpose.’[ii] Saladin rapidly sent light cavalry to cut the Franks off from retreat — and the water at Turan. In addition, mounted archers harassed the rearguard relentlessly, causing it to slow down. A gap opened between the main and the rear divisions. Tripoli urged Guy to press forward to reach water at Hattin six miles away. Guy, possibly influenced by the fact that Rideford was with the rearguard, opted to camp where he was — without water anywhere at hand.

During the night, the rearguard caught up to the main force, but no one had any water. Furthermore, they were now surrounded by enemy. The latter lit fires so that smoke tormented the Franks. By morning, morale was breaking and there were some desertions, but the bulk of the army resumed the march. Saladin’s army blocked their way to water whether at Hattin to the north, the Sea of Galilee to the east, or Turan to the West. Wisely, the sultan refrained from attacking until his enemies were further weakened by heat and thirst as the sun climbed higher.

The Franks needed to break through the Saracen encirclement in order to reach water, but all accounts agree Lusignan had no coherent plan for doing so. We know from Arab sources that the Franks undertook multiple charges, several of which were viewed as extremely dangerous and one of which came close to reaching Saladin. A charge led by the Count of Tripoli, possibly on orders from Guy, managed to tear open the Saracen ranks. However, only the Count and a few of his knights escaped before the Saracens closed the gap again, keeping the bulk of the army trapped. Another charge led by Ibelin enabled the escape of a couple hundred knights and maybe 3,000 infantry of the rearguard. Yet, none of these apparently uncoordinated Frankish charges were sufficient to enable the entire army to escape. Eventually, the Christian infantry broke and sought refuge on the slopes of the hills. The bulk of the knights were forced to follow up the slope — a hopeless position without water. Here, they were overwhelmed. The grueling battle had lasted many hours in the burning heat of a Palestinian summer and had been hard-fought, but Saladin’s victory was ultimately crushing.  

The king and almost all the barons of Jerusalem were taken prisoner, along with the emotionally and symbolically important relic of the True Cross. There were so many common prisoners that the price of slaves plummeted from Damascus to Cairo. The Christian dead left to rot on the field were so numerous that years later the field of bones still awed visitors. Yet the salient point about Hattin is that defeat was not inevitable. Nor was not caused by factionalism or treason. All the barons mustered and fought at Hattin. They gave their views in council, but they followed Lusignan’s orders. Once they engaged, a massive charge was the only viable option. The Franks made several. It was not ‘treasonous’ when Tripoli and Ibelin partially succeeded, but ‘heroic’ when Châtillon and others failed.

Yet the consequences of this defeat were catastrophic. Because the entire feudal army had followed Guy’s summons, the castles and cities of the kingdom were denuded of troops. Left behind were the elderly, women, children, invalids and clerics. These had no chance of defending cities, and the rules of war were clear: defiance justified slaughter, surrender enabled survival.

 Saladin wasted no time in following up on his victory. His army moved immediately for Acre, thereby cutting the kingdom in two. He obtained Acre’s surrender just four days after Hattin. Saladin then split his army in two, sending his brother south with half his forces and turned north himself. He by-passed Tyre as too hard a nut to crack quickly but obtained the surrender of Sidon on 29 July. Beirut resisted and was put the sword on 6 August. Meanwhile, in the south Saladin’s brother al-Adil captured Jaffa on 20 July after resistance, and the citizens were slaughtered or enslaved. Gaza, Hebron, Nazareth, Sebasta, Nablus, Bethlehem, Ramla and Ibelin fell in swift succession. By 4 September, Saladin had joined his brother before Ascalon and the city surrendered to him on terms. Only the great castles in Transjordan and the northern bastions of Belvoir and Safad held out, while just two cities remained in Frankish hands: Tyre and Jerusalem.

 



[i] Mayer, Hans Eberhard. ‘Henry II of England and the Holy Land,’ in Kings and Lords in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. [Farnham: Variorum, 1994] 737.

[ii] France, John. ‘Crusading Warfare in the Twelfth Century,’ in The Crusader World edited by Adrian Boas [London: Routledge, 2016] 77.

[iii] The Old French Continuation of William of Tyre. Chpt. 49, 55.

This entry is an excerpt from Dr. Schrader's comprehensive study of the crusader states.

The events leading up to the Battle of Hattin, the battle and the aftermath are described in fictional format in: 

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Altogether, Dr. Helena P. Schrader is the author of six books set in the Holy Land in the Era of the Crusades.

                         


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"The Tale of the English Templar" is a fictional work that depicts the destruction of the Knight's Templar. 



An escaped Templar, an intrepid, old crusader, and a discarded bride
embark on a quest for justice in the face of tyranny. 
 
 
"St. Louis Knight" is a novel set against the backdrop of the Seventh Crusade and St. Louis' sojourn in the Holy  Land. A Templar novice and King Louis are the central characters. 
It is now available in audiobook as well as paperback and ebook.

 
 A crusader in search of faith --
A lame lady in search of revenge --
And a King who would be saint.

St. Louis' Knight takes you to the Holy Land in the 13th century, and a world filled with knights, nobles, prophets -- and assassins. 
(Available in Audiobook)