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.
"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.
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)
