An Irresistable Opportunity -- Cyprus Seized

The Crusader Kingdom of Cyprus endured two hundred years longer than its sister-states on the mainland, yet it had fallen into crusader hands more by accident than design (as described last week). Today I continue the story of Richard the Lionheart's strategic exploitation of an unexpected situation.

Cypriot Landscape

Had there been no storm, King Richard would have proceeded, as his fellow-crusader Philip II of France had done, without interruption all the way to Tyre/Acre. Only chance scattered his fleet, wrecked some of his ships on the shores of Cyprus and left his fiancé and sister stranded there.  Yet even that would not have resulted in a conquest had the ruler of Cyprus, the self-styled Emperor Isaac Comnenus, acted hospitably to Richard’s ship-wrecked men and ladies. Instead, Isaac plundered the ships, imprisoned the survivors, threatened the royal women, and insulted Richard himself (see The Conquest of Cyprus I: Chance and Passion). Richard’s response was to teach the Byzantine tyrant a lesson, which he did by storming ashore, capturing Limassol and then scattering Isaac’s army in a dawn attack. Yet it still would all have ended there if only Isaac had been willing to come on crusade with Richard. Instead, he fled to the interior. 

Richard responded not with rage but with hard-headed rationality. It was at this point that he appears to have conceived the plan of taking -- and holding -- Cyprus for the crusaders. He rapidly developed and executed a well-crafted strategic plan that made effective use of his large crusader force and fleet. First, he divided his army into three parts. He sent some troops overland to pursue and if possible capture Isaac. He sent part of his fleet to the west and took the bulk of the fleet eastward. Both parts of the fleet secured ports and castles along the coast as they advanced.

Richard consistently made excellent use of his English fleet, using it in diverse ways to support his land forces.

The latter continued to be easy and bloodless due to the unpopularity of Isaac. Even before he left Limassol, Richard had been receiving homage from many of the local elite, most notably the Italian merchants. But it wasn’t only the foreigners that evidently welcomed Richard. Many of the Byzantine nobility also appeared to prefer Richard to Isaac — perhaps because they believed he would not stay long and they would soon have the island to themselves.

Meanwhile, at Famagusta Richard disembarked his troops and advanced toward the inland city of Nicosia. Expecting an ambush, Richard personally commanded the rear-guard of his army. Isaac obliged. The Greek despot's army was handily defeated yet again by Richard’s superior troops and leadership. Isaac himself, however, escaped as he had on all the previous occasions, and this time he fled to one of the nearly impregnable mountain fortresses, either Kantara or Buffavento.

Above: approach to Kantara

These castles, perched on the top of a steep, rocky mountain ridge so narrow that it was not possible to build courtyards or wide halls, could be held with very small garrisons. Attackers had to climb near vertical slopes to reach them, continuously under fire from the defenders — or starve the defenders out with a siege. While a siege was by far the more rational military solution, sieges take time, and that was what Richard of England did not have. Isaac Comnenus clearly expected Richard to give up, continue with his crusade, and leave him to re-take his island at leisure. 

Mountain Fortress of St. Hilarion

He might even have gotten away with it, if Richard’s fleet (the part that had sailed west and reached the northern shore of the island) had not, in combination with the forces sent overland, captured the coastal city and castle of Kyrenia. As chance would have it, Isaac’s only child, a girl, was in Kyrenia.

The girl has remained nameless throughout history, referred to only as the “Maid of Cyprus” or as her father’s daughter. Fortunately for the crusader cause, her father, despite all his other faults, loved her. He loved her so much that despite his comparatively secure position in an all-but-unassailable castle, he abjectly surrendered on June 1. Isaac set only one condition: that he not be put in irons. According to legend, Richard of England agreed, only to have fetters made for him of silver.

If Isaac’s hope had been that surrender would enable him to be reunited with his daughter, it was a short-lived reunion. Isaac was handed over to the Hospitallers, who kept him in a dungeon in Marqub (Syria) until 1193 or 1194. The year after his release he was allegedly poisoned for trying to incite the Sultan of Konya to attack the Byzantine Empire. He was dead by 1196. As for his daughter, she was turned over to the care of Richard’s bride and sister and sailed with them first to Palestine and later to Europe. She was used (just like Richard's sister Joanna) as a diplomatic pawn by Richard, and eventually married to an illegitimate son of the Count of Flanders. (During the Fourth Crusade the couple tried to lay claim to Cyprus, but were rapidly sent packing without anyone taking them seriously.)

Thus, in less than a month and with the loss of only two men (according to the contemporary sources), Richard the Lionheart had taken complete control of the rich and strategically important island of Cyprus. The port of Famagusta is only 118 miles from Tripoli, the closest of the crusader cities, and just 165 miles from Acre.  On a clear day, it is possible to see the coast of Lebanon from Cyprus. Furthermore, Cyprus was a fertile island capable of producing grain, sugar, olives, wine and citrus fruits in abundance.  Its location made it an ideal staging place for future crusades and a strong base for ships to interdict any Saracen fleets intent on preying on the coast of the Levant. Cyprus was thus both a bread-basket and a military base for the existing crusader states.

Ruins of a 13th Century Sugar Mill at Kolosi, Cyprus

Richard of England profited immensely from his conquest. In addition to the plunder, he took on the battlefield (that included rich tents, gold plate, and armor according to tradition) he had also captured Isaac Comnenus’ treasury. Furthermore, he extracted a tax from the lords and burghers of Cyprus to support his crusade. All this replenished his coffers and enabled him to pursue the war for Jerusalem with sufficient resources to pay the men and purchase the material he needed.

Richard was not, however, interested in retaining control of the island indefinitely. It was too far from home (Aquitaine). Richard’s goal in capturing Cyprus was purely strategic, not dynastic. Rather than holding it for himself, he instead sold the island (thereby further strengthening his financial position) to the Knights Templar for 100,000 pieces of gold. The short and ironic history of the Templar rule on Cyprus is the subject of the next entry.

Cyprus is the setting of my most recent release: The Emperor Strikes Back

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Dr. Helena P. Schrader holds a PhD in History.

She is the Chief Editor of the Real Crusades History Blog.

She is an award-winning novelist and author of numerous books both fiction and non-fiction. Her three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin won a total of 14 literary accolades. Her current series describes the civil war in Outremer between Emperor Frederick andthe barons led by John d'Ibelin the Lord of Beirut. Dr. Schrader is also working on a non-fiction book describing the crusader kingdoms. You can find out more at: http://crusaderkingdoms.com

An Accidental Conquest: The Capture of Cyprus

The last and most enduring of the crusader states was established on the island of Cyprus at the end of the 12^th century. It lasted for over 300 years, thriving long after the Kingdom of Jerusalem had disappeared from the political map -- if not from memory. In a seven-part series, I will be looking more closely at the establishment of the Kingdom of Cyprus and its unique features. It all began by accident --

Richard's Tomb at the Abbey of Fontevrault

After a tempestuous winter on Sicily, the men of the Third Crusade led by the Kings of England and France were ready to sail for the Holy Land. The kings, however, had quarreled with one another and so departed separately. Philip II departed with his contingent of crusaders on March 30. He arrived off Tyre without incident three weeks later on April 20.

Richard was not so lucky. His fleet of a hundred ships did not set sail until April 10 — and almost immediately encountered a vicious storm. The fleet was scattered as the vessels, some large, some small, some oared and some pure sailing ships, each struggled to survive as best it could.  Richard’s galley with a portion of the fleet eventually made safe harbor on the island of Rhodes on April 22, but the ship carrying his betrothed, Princess Berengaria of Navarre, and his sister Joanna, the widowed Queen of Sicily, was missing.  

For the next ten days, Richard remained at Rhodes while ships scoured the seasto find and round-up the stragglers and damaged ships were made seaworthy again.   On May 1, with the ships he had collected, Richard set out in search of the remaining lost vessels and his bride. He made for Cyprus, the largest of the islands in the eastern Mediterranean. His hope was that many of his missing ships, including the one with his bride and sister, might have found refuge there.

And indeed they had! But their reception had been far from welcoming. Rather than receiving the charity expected from a Christian monarch (Cyprus was ruled at this time by a self-styled Byzantine “Emperor”), the crews of three ships wrecked on the coast of the island were –- in Richard’s own words –- “robbed and despoiled.”  The ship carrying the royal ladies had avoided shipwreck, but ir had taken refuge in the harbor of Limassol in a state of distress.  The knights aboard this vessel somehow received word of what had happened to their comrades, and Joanna of Plantagenet (a woman who deserves a book of her own!) was clearly not buying the assurances offered by “Emperor” Isaac Comnenus about her safety if she came ashore.  She smelt a rat and stayed aboard her damaged vessel.

Thus when Richard sailed into Limassol harbor on the evening of May 5, he found his bride-to-be and sister in a precarious situation aboard an unseaworthy vessel running out of water, but afraid of being held for ransom or worse if they went ashore.  Richard at once sent an envoy to Isaac Comnenus requesting that his men be set free, compensation paid for the property seized (from the wrecks), and permission to come ashore for water and provisions. According to all contemporary accounts, the envoy returned with a very rude reply.

Richard responded as could only be expected of the proud Plantagenet: he attacked.

The exact sequence of events varies according to which chronicle one follows.  One version has Richard ordering his galleys to break through a blockade of ships at the mouth of Limassol harbor and then storming ashore on foot.  Another version claims he landed on a beach beyond Limassol harbor against opposition, and then took Limassol from landward. Either action (and the latter appears the most likely) was extremely risky.

Indeed, an amphibious operation from small ships and boats against a defended shore is one of the most dangerous in warfare. Period. Think of the beaches of Normandy — and Gallipoli. Unlike the Allies on D-Day in WWII, Richard did not have protective artillery fire from big battleships hammering the shore with shells. Instead, Richard had to rely upon cross-bow men kneeling or sitting on boats bobbing up and down in the waves — not a good platform for accurate fire with any kind of small arm, let alone a bow and arrow! The enemy archers, in contrast, would have been firing their bows from solid earth. Furthermore, as Richard and his men approached the shore, he had to jump overboard into the sucking surf, not in combat boots but chainmail leggings. He then had to fight his way up the rolling stones of the beach in the face of both enemy fire and attacks. To put it simply: the fact that Richard pulled this off is remarkable and unquestionably heroic.

He was helped, however, by the fact that his opponent was highly unpopular with his own subjects and relying primarily upon mercenaries.

Cyprus, an integral part of the early Byzantine Empire, had become a target for expanding Islam in the mid-7^th century. Although it was not conquered and incorporated into the Muslim world, it was partially occupied, frequently raided, and forced to pay tribute to various Muslim overlords until 965, when Constantinople re-established control over the island. The three hundred years of turmoil had made it poor, and it remained a Byzantine back-water until the establishment of the crusader states following the First Crusade. Thereafter, Cyprus benefitted from the flood of Western pilgrims heading to the Holy Land and prospered from trade with the booming cities of the Levant. In 1126, the Venetians obtained trading concessions on the island and contributed to its commercial revival. After the death of Manuel I Comnenus, however, Constantinople drifted into chaos as first his son was murdered and then his son’s murderer was torn to pieces by a mob. Constantinople was too pre-occupied with this succession crisis to pay much attention to Cyprus, and into the vacuum stepped Isaac Comnenus.

A Portrait of Isaac's Great Uncle Manuel I

Isaac, a member of the Imperial family (a great-nephew of Emperor Manuel I), who had previously been governor of Byzantine Cilicia, arrived on Cyprus in 1182 or 1183. He claimed to have been appointed governor.  Some sources claim his letters of appointment were forged, but it is also possible he was indeed legitimately appointed by Manuel I’s son Alexus II or the latter’s mother and regent, Maria of Antioch. In any case, when Alexis II and Maria of Antioch were murdered and Andronicus Comnenus became Emperor in Constantinople, Isaac rebelled against Andronicus. He thereafter claimed Cyprus as his personal domain. Andronicus didn’t take this sitting down. He prepared a fleet to reclaim the island for Cyprus. Isaac responded by forging an alliance with Sicily, which sent a fleet. In a naval engagement, the Sicilians fighting for Isaac defeated the Byzantine fleet. By the time Richard of England arrived in 1191, Isaac had been in effective control of Cyprus for roughly 8 years. In that short space of time, however, he had so ruthlessly exploited, taxed and terrorized his subjects that they did not want to fight — much less die — for him. Lack of morale on the part of Isaac’s forces was probably the most decisve factor enabling Richard to successfully land his troops. 

Nevertheless, although Richard had taken the beach and then the city of Limassol, Isaac Comnenus still had his army largely intact. He had simply withdrawn with the bulk of his troops farther inland. This situation was obviously precarious, and Richard knew he had to eliminate this latent threat. So he off-loaded some of his warhorses, exercised them through the night so they could get back their land-legs, and then attacked Isaac Comnenus’ army at dawn the next day. The location is sometimes identified as Kolossi, the later site of a lovely Hospitaller commandery.

The Hospitaller Commandery at Kolossi as it looks today. (Photo by the author)

Richard’s early morning attack allegedly caused panic among the self-styled Emperor’s forces. Isaac Comnenus took flight again, and Richard’s men overran the enemy camp, capturing huge quantities of booty without casualties.  As at the earlier engagement, the self-styled “Emperor” had little support among the population or his mercenaries. 

Richard returned to Limassol and on May 12. Lent now being over, he married Berengaria and had her crowned Queen of England. The exact location is unknown, and several churches in Limassol claim the honor.

These churches for the Hospital (left) and Temple (right) built much later but incorporate many features typical of church architecture on the island. (Photo by the author)

At this point, Richard was still in a hurry to get to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. The crusader kingdom was in desperate straits, having been reduced to the city of Tyre after the defeat at Hattin.  Richard had taken the cross three and a half years earlier, and all sources attest to his burning and sincere desire to recapture Jerusalem from the Saracens. That it had taken him so long to get this far was more a function of prudent preparation and bitter politics than to lack of ardor. The urgency to continue now, however, was increased by the fact that his hated rival, Philip II of France, had already joined the Christian siege of Muslim-held Acre with his large contingent of troops.  Richard had every reason to expect these massive reinforcements of the Christian army would tip the scales and lead to the capture of Acre; Richard had no desire to see Philip take all the glory for a victory of this magnitude.

As a result, Richard accepted Isaac Comnenus’ surrender on comparatively mild terms. He made no claim to Cyprus at this point. He simply demanded reparations from Isaac’s treasury (a welcome infusion of cash to Richard’s war chest so he could finance his crusade for Jerusalem) and, significantly, 100 knights, 500 light cavalry(turcopoles), and 500 infantry from Cyprus for the crusade. Isaac was to accompany Richard on the crusade, surrender his only child as a hostage of his goodwill, and place his castles under the control of Richard’s lieutenants.

The Castle of Kantara, Cyprus (Photo by the author)

The terms might have been humiliating for a self-styled “emperor,” but they were a far cry from “unconditional surrender.” Nor did they constitute the conquest or confiscation of the island.  Instead, they were clearly intended to bolster Richard’s ability to re-capture Jerusalem. Richard had not lost sight of his primary goal and had Isaac complied with the terms of the agreement the last crusader kingdom might never have come into being.

But Isaac Comnenus reneged.  That same night he fled inland. On the sharp and narrow ridge that ran roughly east-west like a backbone through the island stood three impregnable castles. These offered refuge and defiance. Isaac was clearly not about to become a crusader and was banking instead upon Richard being in too much of a hurry to get to Acre to come after him. 

The Ruins of St. Hilarion Castle, Cyprus (Photo by the author)

Richard had to choose between letting him get away with this treachery and hurrying to join the siege of Acre or trying to take control of the entire island by force. Up to now, Richard had responded to unexpected developments, taking advantage of a situation that presented itself to him. What followed was far more calculating. Read more next week.

Cyprus is the venue for my latest release: The Emperor Strikes Back

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Dr. Helena P. Schrader holds a PhD in History.

She is the Chief Editor of the Real Crusades History Blog.

She is an award-winning novelist and author of numerous books both fiction and non-fiction. Her three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin won a total of 14 literary accolades. Her current series describes the civil war in Outremer between Emperor Frederick and the barons led by John d'Ibelin the Lord of Beirut. Dr. Schrader is also working on a non-fiction book describing the crusader kingdoms. You can find out more at: http://crusaderkingdoms.com

Hospitals for the Holy Land

It is widely believed that Arab/Muslim medicine was far superior to Western/Christian medicine, yet when Saladin captured Jerusalem in 1187, he was so impressed with the Hospital of the Knights of St. John that he allowed it to remain open for another year. Indeed a visitor from the West shortly before the fall of Jerusalem described it as a "palace" with beautiful buildings, "rich in the means of refreshing the poor."(1)

I want to first consider why hospitals are considered one of the greatest innovations of Outremer.

At the time of the First Crusade, Western Europe did not know hospitals in the sense of places where acutely ill patients received professional medical treatment. There were, of course, infirmaries in monasteries and convents to treat the sick members of the community, but they were not established for the benefit of the general public. Furthermore, the infirmarer and his assistants were first and foremost a monks/nuns, not trained doctors/nurses. There were also almshouses for the infirm and aging, hospices for the dying, and various forms of charitable institutions to look after the chronically and incurably ill such as lepers, the blind, and the seriously disabled. In general, however, if the rich got sick, they sent for a physician to treat them in their homes; if the poor got sick they treated themselves or sought the services of a barber or other informally trained medical practitioner.

 
Another feature of 11th century Western medicine was that all care was centered around religious institutions, and even in those cases where wealthy secular benefactors had taken the initiative to found or endow a house for the poor/sick/ aged/blind/leprous etc, care was almost invariably provided by members of the clergy (secular or monastic).  In addition, an important component of the “treatment” was hearing Mass and saying prayers regularly. While men and women patients were separated by a partition or by being housed on separate floors, there was little to no attempt to separate patients based on type of illness at this time.

The Byzantine tradition was quite different. Although initially care of the sick had been provided at monasteries, already by the 7th century AD most hospitals were both financially independent and employed paid, professional staff rather than relying on members of a monastic institution providing care and treatment of patients. Most Byzantine hospitals were small to modest in size, ranging from ten to a hundred beds, although there were larger hospitals which boasted a large and highly specialized staff. In the most prestigious hospitals in Constantinople, for example, physicians and surgeons (some of these further specialized by the type of operations they predominantly performed such as hernias, appendices, eyes, etc.), pharmacists, attendants (nurses), instrument sharpeners, priests, cooks, and latrine cleaners are all listed on the payroll. The administration of these institutions was in the hands of the senior medical staff, and the patients were divided up into wards based on both sex and medical condition. Notably, there is documentary evidence of a small number of female doctors as well as female nurses for the women’s wards.

Equally important, the medical staff worked in the hospitals for very small salaries, but only for six months of a year; presumably, they earned the bulk of their income from private practice in the alternating months in which they did not work in the hospital. This suggests that Byzantine hospitals, although no longer run by the Church, were nevertheless viewed as charitable places accessible it the middle and poorer classes. Furthermore, most junior doctors earned no salary at all since they were considered apprentices in their craft (the equivalent of modern interns). In the larger hospitals, however, there were libraries and teaching staff, making these the equivalent of modern “teaching hospitals.”

In the Muslim world, in contrast, there is no evidence of hospitals until the end of the eighth century. Furthermore, the idea of an institution dedicated to healing sick appears to have been inspired by contact with the Eastern Roman Empire following the conquest of Syria and the Levant. It soon became a matter of prestige, however, for Muslim rulers to establish and endow hospitals so that by twelfth-century most major cities in the Middle East boasted at least one and often more hospitals. The staff of these hospitals was all paid medical professionals and they could be drawn from any faith so that the doctors could be Muslim, Christian or Jewish. Although nursing staff for the women’s wards was female, doctors were invariably male. The famous Adudi hospital in Baghdad (and presumably other hospitals) was also a training institution with library and a staff that wrote medical texts as well. 

The administration of most hospitals in the Muslim world, however, was in the hands of a bureaucrat appointed by the ruler; in short, even in the age of the crusades, these hospitals were “public” in the sense of being state-run. The salaries were small, and again the doctors worked only half time (in the Muslim world, half-days rather than alternating months) in the hospital in order to be free to earn “real” money with private patients. (This practice is still common in Egypt today, by the way.) Hospitals in the Muslim world were large, often having several thousand beds. Perhaps because of this, it was also usual to divide patients up based on the diagnosis, so that there were separate wards for the mentally ill, people with fevers, stomach ailments, eye or skin conditions, etc. Patients were also segregated by sex, of course.

Possibly due to the nomadic past of both Arab and Turkish Muslims, the Muslim world appears to have been very progressive with respect to the establishment of mobile hospitals. These traveled with the Sultan’s armies as early as 942. They also provided care to outlying, rural areas not serviced by the large central hospitals in the urban centers of the Middle East. 

With the establishment of the crusader states in the Levant following the First Crusade, pilgrims from across the Latin West started flooding into the Holy Land on pilgrimage. The journey, whether by land or sea, was arduous and fraught with dangers from pirates and highway robbers to unfamiliar foods, snakes, scorpions, and accidents. Many pilgrims arrived in the Holy Land with injuries and/or in poor health. Being far from home, these pilgrims had no families, guilds or other networks of support; they needed assistance. Their plight sparked the foundation of one of the most important religious orders of the Middle Ages: the Hospitallers. (See separate entry.) But not just the Hospitallers. Pilgrims were coming from across Europe and they spoke different languages; they needed care-takers who could understand them. In consequence, a number of early hospitals were established by monks speaking the same language as the pilgrims, but most of these were later absorbed into the Hospitaller’s network as it became increasingly wealthy and powerful. A few, like the German hospital established during the siege of Acre in Third Crusade, evolved into independent orders. The German hospital became the Teutonic Knights, and the establishments for lepers were taken over by the Knights of St. Lazarus, to mention just two examples. Notably, all hospitals in the crusader states were run by religious/military orders; there were no secular hospitals in the Byzantine and Muslim tradition.


Furthermore, it is fair to say that the medical landscape of Outremer was dominated by the Hospitallers or Knights of St. John, and it is from this Order that we have the most complete information about care for the sick in the Crusader period. The hospitals of the Knights of St. John retained many features of Western medical institutions but adopted others from Byzantine and Muslim examples.

For example, being a religious order, the Hospitaller retained the Western emphasis on prayer as a means to recovery. The wards were usually situated to enable patients to hear Mass being read in an adjacent chapel or church.  Furthermore, patients were required to confess their sins on admittance to the hospital because it was believed that sin (and God’s displeasure) could cause illness. That said, however, eye witness accounts report that Muslims and Jews were also treated in the hospitals; we can only presume that they were exempt from confession at admittance.

Breaking with Western tradition, however, the hospitals run by the Knights of St. John employed professionally trained doctors and surgeons at least by the second half of the 12th century. There is at least one case of Jewish doctor being employed and taking the oath required of all doctors on the “Jewish book” rather than the bible. In contrast to both Byzantium and the Muslim world, the doctors of the Order of St. John were well-paid and worked full-time in the hospitals. The attendants or care-givers, on the other hand, were brothers and sisters of the Order of St. John, i.e. monks and nuns and as such neither salaried nor professionally trained, although they would certainly have rapidly gained extensive on-the-job training. The male care-givers are listed as “sergeants” in the records of the Order. The Rule of the Order of St. John required the nursing staff (male and female) to serve the sick “with enthusiasm and devotion as if they were their Lords.”

Following the Muslim more than the Byzantine tradition, the Hospitallers maintained very large establishments in major cities such as Jerusalem, Nablus, and Acre. The Hospital in Jerusalem had more than 2,000 beds, for example, and was divided into eleven wards for men and an unknown number of wards for women. (Our source for this information is male patients reporting on the hospital, who did not have access to the women’s wards.) Patients appear to have been segregated not only by sex but by type of illness, although this may not have been possible at smaller institutions in more provincial towns. The larger hospitals, such as that in Jerusalem, Nablus, and Acre, are described as very well-appointed by eyewitnesses that stressed there was adequate room for beds and for personnel to move between patients and adequate windows for fresh air and light. Archaeological evidence testifies to the Hospital in Jerusalem’s proximity to a major aqueduct and no less than five large cisterns providing ready water and a network of drains made it possible to flush out refuse and human waste.

Diet formed an important part of the treatment in Hospitaller establishments, possibly because so many of the patients were pilgrims suffering more from malnutrition than disease. Food poisoning and various forms of dietary problems were likewise also common. Furthermore, medieval medicine was based on the premise that illness resulted from an imbalance between the “humors” (e.g. blood, bile). Certain foods, notably lentils, beans, and cheese, were completely prohibited in the hospitals of St. John, but white bread, meat, and wine were daily fare. Patients also benefited from the wide variety of fruits available in the Holy Land: pomegranates, figs, grapes, plums, pears, and apples are all mentioned. 

 

The Hospitallers were able to provide such extensive and professional care to large numbers of patients because of the enormous endowments left to them ― often from former patients. Grants were also made in kind, for example, obligating a town or distant estate to provide set quantities of, say, sugar cane (used in medicines), almonds, or linen sheets on an annual or more frequent basis.

1) Susan Edgington, "Oriental and Occidental Medince in the Crusader States,"  The Crusades and the Near East: Cultural Histories, ed. Conor Kostick (London: Routledge, 2011)206.
Principal source: Medicine in the Crusades: Warfare, Wounds and the Medieval Surgeon, by Piers D. Mitchell, Cambridge University Press, 2004.

Throughout my Award-winning "Jerusalem" trilogy and my newer books lifestyle in Outremer is depicted as realistically as possible.

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Dr. Helena P. Schrader holds a PhD in History.

She is the Chief Editor of the Real Crusades History Blog.

She is an award-winning novelist and author of numerous books both fiction and non-fiction. Her three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin won a total of 14 literary accolades. Her current series describes the civil war in Outremer between Emperor Frederick andthe barons led by John d'Ibelin the Lord of Beirut. Dr. Schrader is also working on a non-fiction book describing the crusader kingdoms. You can find out more at: http://crusaderkingdoms.com