HistoryExtrahttps://www.historyextra.comHome of Britain’s bestselling history magazine and award-winning podcast2026-10-18T10:31:03.000Zhourly12000-01-01T12:00+00:00This medieval king ruled a vast empire and inspired the pope. He also didn't existhttps://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/this-medieval-king-ruled-a-vast-empire-and-inspired-the-pope-he-also-didnt-exist/2026-10-18T10:30:11.000ZIn 1145, the German bishop Otto of Freising published his influential work of history and philosophy, the Chronica, in which he mentioned a Christian ruler of a domain far to the east. This priest-king had defeated the Muslims in battle and set out to capture Jerusalem, but had been unable to cross his army over the Tigris River.
This is the first-known written reference to Prester John, a significant figure in medieval Europe, despite the fact that he never existed.
The myth behind the man
Twenty years later, in 1165, a letter appeared at the court of the Byzantine emperor purporting to be from the mysterious man, the “supreme ruler of the three Indies”. In the lengthy missive, he introduced himself: “I, Prester John, am lord of lords and surpass, in all riches which are under the heaven, in virtue and in power, all the kings of the wide world.”
He was a devout Christian who served as both king and religious leader (the word ‘prester’ means priest) of a vast empire where 72 kingdoms lived in peace and all crime and vice had been eliminated. Riches abounded, with rivers literally flowing with precious gems, and mythical creatures such as the phoenix and cyclopes thrived.
Not only did the letter promise a Christian paradise on Earth that could be explored, but also the ally that Western Europe so badly needed to fight the Muslim forces in the crusades.
Why did people believe Prester John was real?
The letter was a fake written by a still-unknown author, yet it was widely circulated. Soon, the name and reputation of Prester John spread across Europe with many having no problem in considering him to be completely genuine. Pope Alexander III even sent an envoy to attempt to deliver a letter to this imperious king to the east.
Europeans had long believed that there had to be Christian kingdoms in the east, and not without reason. There were indeed huge Christian communities across Asia; it was thought that Prester John – who claimed to be a descendent of one of the Magi, the three wise men who visited Christ at his birth – may have belonged to a sect called Nestorianism.
Limited knowledge of geography beyond the Islamic world meant that Europeans simply did not know who lived there and what they were like, so why could there not be a Christian ruler of a vast empire? There were enough kernels of truth on which to grow Prester John’s image too: there were indeed non-Muslim peoples making their presence known in Europe, namely the Mongols.
Perhaps the most important factor in why Prester John’s existence was not questioned too strongly was that Europeans wanted to believe in him. They wanted to hold onto the possibility of an ally that would change the course of the crusades, to be evoked whenever the need was greatest.
Following the disaster of the Fifth Crusade, Jacques de Vitry, bishop of Ptolemais, wrote to the pope with words of optimism, explaining how the Muslims had been attacked by David, King of India and a descendent of Prester John. Historians have speculated that this account might have been inspired by Genghis Khan.
The move to Ethiopia
The story of Prester John inspired many travellers and missionaries over the years to head into the unknown and locate his near-magical kingdom, thought for some time to be in India. By the time Marco Polo went on his travels in the late 13th century nothing had been found, but he still referenced Prester John as a real figure in the region.
As it became increasingly clear, however, that there was no Christian empire of the size and power related in Prester John’s letter, the story shifted to place the king in Africa instead, specifically in Ethiopia, where a Christian community had existed since the fourth century.
From the 14th century, embassies from Ethiopia travelled to Italy and established a presence in Rome, and Europeans quickly jumped to the conclusion that their leader must be Prester John. Tales emerged of how his land contained the source of the Nile and he had the power to divert its course and wreak havoc in Egypt.
The Portuguese committed huge resources to their exploration of Africa – which led to Vaso da Gama’s world-changing voyage to India around the Cape of Good Hope from 1497-99 – fuelled in no small part by the aim of finding Prester John once and for all. They did find a Christian ruler in Ethiopia, but it was clear that this was not the all-powerful, fabulously wealthy king of the legend.
While belief in Prester John diminished, this mythical king had a very real legacy: it was the desire to find his empire that helped light the fires of European exploration in Asia and Africa.
]]>Inside the Maya storyworldhttps://www.historyextra.com/membership/inside-the-maya-story-world-podcast/2026-08-05T08:15:42.000ZThe Maya have a rich and varied storyworld shaped by diverse traditions and communities. In this episode, Mallory E Matsumoto tells Emily Briffett about her recent book, The Maya Myths, which explores tales of destruction and rebirth, people made of maize dough, and journeys into the underworld – revealing a living tradition that blurs the line between history and storytelling.
]]>The Fifth Crusade: triumph, disaster and the battle for Egypthttps://www.historyextra.com/membership/the-fifth-crusade-triumph-disaster-and-the-battle-for-egypt-podcast/2026-08-03T12:52:08.000ZIn 1217, crusaders launched an ambitious campaign to conquer Egypt, believing it held the key to reclaiming Jerusalem and securing the Holy Land.
Historian and author Thomas Smith tells Emily Briffett why the crusaders targeted Egypt, charts the dramatic naval assault that preceded the siege of Damietta, and explores how a promising campaign turned into one of the greatest missed opportunities in crusading history.
]]>It was medieval England's worst antisemitic massacre. Here's what happened nexthttps://www.historyextra.com/membership/it-was-medieval-englands-worst-antisemitic-massacre-heres-what-happened-next/2026-03-30T14:30:26.000ZOn a cold, grey January day in York, I climbed the steps to Clifford’s Tower, continuing all the way to the top to enjoy panoramic views across the city. This structure was for many years a notorious prison, and housed a royalist garrison before being taken by the parliamentarians during the Civil War. Long before then, though, it was the site of one of the worst antisemitic massacres of the Middle Ages.
Towards the end of the 12th century, peaking around the time of the Third Crusade, anti-Jewish hostility swelled in England. Antisemitic rioting broke out in London and across the east of the country. In spring 1190, as Jewish properties in York were looted or burned, concerned royal officers sheltered some 150 Jewish people inside a timber structure in York Castle that almost certainly stood on the current site of Clifford’s Tower, built perhaps 60 years later.
A mob surrounded the tower and prepared to attack. On the night of 16 March, many of the Jews inside – seeing no safe way out of the situation – took their own lives, having set their possessions on fire, which ignited the tower itself. One of the aggressors reputedly offered an amnesty to any Jew willing to convert to Christianity – but all who left the tower to do so were murdered.
However, that terrible incident did not mark the end of Jewish life in York. Within a few years, a new community was established, which endured in the city throughout the 13th century. Research from the University of York published in 2023 shows that a synagogue stood on Coney Street from 1205 to 1290 – the year when all Jews were expelled from England by order of Edward I. A commemorative plaque was unveiled at the site in 2024.
Today, Coney Street is a busy commercial thoroughfare – as it was in the Middle Ages, when it was home to a clothier, a leatherworker, a vintner, a goldsmith, a baker and an apothecary, along with important members of the medieval Jewish community. The 2023 research found that a branch of Boots stands on the site occupied by one Leo Episcopus; his son-in-law, Aaron, lived nearby at the spot where Next is today. Both inhabited homes built by Christian landlords and leased to Jews, who lived alongside prominent Christian citizens.
Leo and Aaron served as chief representatives of the entire Jewish community in England. In the 1230s and 1240s, Aaron was considered to be the richest man in the country. Charters from the Durham Cathedral archive show how Aaron co-operated with senior clergy of York Minster in purchasing the large stone building that became the city’s Guildhall. It also seems likely that Aaron worked with Minster authorities on the ‘Five Sisters’ window – previously known as the Jewish window – in return for land on which to extend the Jewish cemetery.
For so long, the Jewish history of York has been overshadowed by the horrors of what took place at Clifford’s Tower in 1190. Remembrance of this tragedy continues to evolve today: there are plans to redevelop the area around the tower, and proposals include a more formal memorial to the massacre. Each spring, daffodils bloom on the mound – flowers of a six-pointed narcissus variety whose shape echoes the Star of David, creating an annual reminder of the massacre.
- Read more | The assassins' reign of terror: how these 12th-century killers spread fear in the Middle East
It’s right that we mark such a horrifying event – but also that we remember the Jewish community which, in the decades that followed, lived largely harmoniously alongside Christian neighbours in one of the most high-status streets in York.
York’s Jewish history is complex – but the university’s research suggests strongly that, during the 13th century, Jews and Christians worked together for the common good, developing civic and religious sites that remain important in the city today. Serendipitously, the university’s findings were revealed just as York appointed its first resident rabbi since the expulsion of 1290 – the latest positive milestone in the city’s long Jewish history.
This article was first published in the March 2026 issue of HistoryExtra Magazine
]]>Who won the crusades? The causes, death toll, and number of medieval holy wars explainedhttps://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/crusades-causes-history-when-how-many-were-there-death-toll/2025-11-24T17:30:10.000ZThe crusades were a centuries-long sequence of era-defining medieval holy wars that transformed dynamics of power and religious ideas across Europe and the Middle East.
But who won the crusades, and just how many crusades were there?
Those are two of the questions answered by professor Rebecca Rist, an expert on the crusades and their broader medieval context. Speaking about the topic on an episode of the HistoryExtra podcast, Rist steps into the dust of medieval roads and the heat of besieged cities to explain why these campaigns erupted, what the major expeditions set out to accomplish, how those ambitions played out on the ground, and how the long arc of conflict finally came to an end.
Who won the crusades?
Overall, the Muslim forces won the crusades, and the Christians lost.
However, as Rist explains, while that was the final state of play, the granular details were far from that simple.
"The final bastions of the crusader states were lost in 1291 (having been founded originally in 1099) to Muslim forces. In that sense, obviously the Muslims won the crusades and the Christians were defeated.
"However, the crusades span a very long period of time, starting with the First Crusade in 1095 and ending with the loss of Acre in 1291. There were many individual crusades within that period, some of which were won by the Christians – by the Western Franks, like the First Crusade – and others by Muslims. For example, the Muslim forces were successful in the Fifth Crusade in capturing Damietta."
In other instances, Rist says there were greater degrees of complexity. "In some crusades, we have partial victories. If we take the Third Crusade, Richard the Lionheart was partially successful, in the sense that he was able to take and maintain Acre. But, of course, he didn't win back Jerusalem with a military victory."
How many crusades were there?
"There were eight crusades during the period from 1095 to 1291 in the Near East," says Rist.
However, Rist is careful to caveat this: it's a number that's subject to debate, as what precisely counts as a full-scale crusade is difficult to define.
Still, according to Rist, the eight major crusades were broadly as follows:
"The First Crusade (1095–99), is where the crusaders take Jerusalem and set up the crusader states. The Second Crusade (1147–50), is a subsequent response to the fall of the first crusader kingdom of Edessa (the crusader kingdom in the north). The Third Crusade (1189–92) is launched to try to win back Jerusalem and is perhaps the most famous because it involved Richard the Lionheart. The Fourth Crusade (1202–04) doesn't end up in the Holy Land at all, but the crusaders instead sack the town of Zara and then Constantinople. The Fifth Crusade (1217–21) is an attack that the crusaders make on Egypt, on the town of Damietta in particular (and this ends in failure). The Sixth Crusade (1228–29) is very interesting because it's not authorised by the papacy, but it’s a crusade where emperor Frederick II, goes out under excommunication. He has a lot of success and makes a truce with the sultan and gets Jerusalem back for 10 years. Finally, I like to think of the Seventh (1248–54) and Eighth (1270) Crusades, which are the two crusades of Louis IX, launched respectively at Egypt and at Tunis."
In addition to these eight core crusades, there were other conflicts that need to be recognised.
"There were also many more minor expeditions [with] small groups of fighters between these major crusades as well. So we can think of the Barons’ crusade of 1236, for example, or the crusade by Edward, prince of England, sometimes called the Ninth Crusade (1271–72). These little ventures are going on between these major responses [when] great papal calls are put out, and very large armies take up that call."
How many people died in the crusades?
The crusades' death toll likely came in at around 5-6 million, possibly reaching as high as 9 million, according to Rist.
But, once again, there are serious caveats to consider.
"It's very difficult to estimate [the crusades' death toll] because of the source material. We're dealing with very unreliable sources: medieval chroniclers are notoriously unreliable when they give figures of battles and losses."
Despite the problems with the sources, it's still possible to come to a very broad conclusion.
"There are figures ranging from 1 million to 9 million over the whole period from 1095 to 1291. John Robertson famously, in his Short History of Christianity – a very old but seminal book first published in the early 20th century – had that really huge figure of 9 million. But I've seen other historians estimate much lower numbers. When I'm giving these figures, I'm including Christians, Muslims and all those who followed the armies, not just the combatants.
"Historians generally prefer to try to give estimates for individual battles rather than for the crusades overall, and I think that gives us a better sense of the carnage and the losses. Regarding the overall estimates between 1 million and 9 million, certainly one million seems far too few to me."
She concludes, "I would go for a much higher figure: 5 or 6 million."
What caused the crusades between 1095–1204?
The motivations behind the crusades were a mixture of: "religious, political, social, and economic," says Rist.
"To highlight a few definite motivating factors: I think the papacy granting a ‘remission of sins’ in the 12th century is a driving force. People want to be free from their sins, to try to wipe the slate clean, and they know that crusading will assure them that spiritual privilege. There is another religious motivation: to help fellow Christians. The pope had called for the First Crusade to help the Byzantines in the east. The Byzantine emperor, Alexius Comnenus, had asked for help from the west because the Byzantines were struggling against the Seljuk Turks at this time."
But it was far from just religion that motivated the conflicts, as Rist explains.
- Read more | Did the crusaders fight for God or gold?
"There are many other non-religious motivations, such as the charismatic preaching that we see happening with these crusades. Take a figure like Bernard of Clairvaux on the Second Crusade. He preaches all over Europe drawing large crowds, and influences kings to ‘take the cross’.
"I think crusaders were also spurred on by the idea of the glory that can pertain to their families if they take part in these great expeditions. Certainly, kings and emperors think it will do their ‘PR’ no harm. They take the cross often when they become kings. Often, it's a way of showing that there is a new reign and that they’re different from their fathers.
"There's no doubt that there were also ideas of adventure. At the time of the First Crusade, there had been very bad harvests; there was famine in Europe, so people wanted something different and new. Of course, when they get out there, they didn't necessarily like it. But there were all kinds of romantic and adventurous ideas associated with the crusades."
Ultimately however, Rist stresses that the motivation behind crusades was neither singular, nor homogenous.
"An individual crusader doesn't just have to have one motivation. He can be conventionally very pious. He can also be hoping to be in favour with his lord. He can be hoping that there might be some land parcelled out to him. He can be inspired by charismatic preaching."
How did the crusades end?
The crusades ended in 1291 "when the Mamluks captured Acre," says Rist.
She concludes, "For decades, Acre had been the centre of what remained of the kingdom of Jerusalem – and so it was the most important city that was still left of the crusader states. It fell to the Mamluk Sultan Khalil in 1291. In the days that followed, the rest of the remaining crusader towns – Beirut, Haifa, Tyre, Tortosa – all fell in a domino effect."
The First Crusade
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]]>Saladin: a hero of Islam and scourge of the crusadershttps://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/saladin-who-crusades-life-rule/2025-02-28T10:19:35.000ZWho was Saladin?
A Sunni Muslim of Kurdish descent, Saladin was the founder of the Ayyubid dynasty (which ruled over modern-day Egypt and parts of Iraq, Syria, Palestine and Yemen) and was the first man at the time of the crusades to be sultan of both Egypt and Syria. Leading a confederation of territories, he inspired the Muslim military effort against the crusader states.
In 1187, Saladin both defeated crusader forces at the battle of Hattin and captured Jerusalem after nearly nine decades of the holy city being in the hands of the Franks. He then repelled the resultant Third Crusade.
- On the podcast | Jonathan Phillips details the astronomic rise of Saladin
Only six months after securing a truce with Richard the Lionheart, one of his most significant achievements, he died. Saladin was, and remains, a hero of Islam, and was praised by his enemies in the West for his military skills, his lack of vanity, and his generous and virtuous nature.
What was Saladin’s full name?
Saladin’s full name was Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub. He was known as Yusuf, a name he remained particularly fond of during his life since it had connotations to the Biblical figure Joseph (the Latinised version of Yusuf), who had been sent to Egypt as a slave but rose to be a powerful leader – a story that shared similarities to Saladin’s own career path.
The name Salah ad-Din (westernised to Saladin) was actually a title, meaning ‘righteousness of the faith’. Ayyub was his father’s name, hence ibn Ayyub, meaning son of Ayyub.
What was Saladin’s early life like?
Born in either 1137 or 1138 in the city of Tikrit (now in Iraq), Saladin was raised in a prominent Kurdish family, with his father and uncle holding prestigious positions in the ranks of the Muslim Syrian rulership.
As a boy, Saladin moved with his family to one of the great cities of the Near East: the wealthy and bustling Damascus, ruled over by the powerful Nur al-Din. With the growing sentiment of counter-crusade in the air, the young Saladin was thrust into an environment where the idea of jihad was prominent.
It was under his uncle Shirkuh, a stocky, grizzled warrior and arguably Nur al-Din's best general, that Saladin began his own military career and accompanied him on his campaigns in Egypt.
How did Saladin become a military leader and ruler?
During the 1160s, a struggle erupted between the Syrian Muslims and the crusader states over the control of Egypt. The region’s great wealth and declining rulership under the Fatimid Shi’ite Caliphate made it a tempting target.
Shirkuh, with a young Saladin in his ranks, seized control of the region in January 1169, but died just two months later from complications brought on by overeating. In his early 30s, Saladin was appointed commander of the Syrian forces and the new vizier of the Fatimids.
Despite facing revolts, assassination attempts and crusader aggression, Saladin’s rise continued apace. Two years later, he would abolish the Fatimid Caliphate and, at the head of the new Ayyubid dynasty, become the governor of Egypt.
“This was one of the most exciting moments in Saladin’s life,” says crusades historian Jonathan Phillips, speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast. “He was a Kurd at the head of a Sunni Syrian invasion army that had conquered Shiite Egypt. That rapid ascent from a relatively unknown position to having this authority was truly remarkable.”
How did Saladin draw together the Muslim Near East?
With Egypt under his control, Saladin was quick to learn the required skills of rulership. He took harsh punitive measures against those who tried to remove him from power, while surrounding himself with a stable and loyal group of administrators. To understand his new domain better, he commissioned a survey of Egypt's economy and a book of local etiquette.
All the while, he remained theoretically loyal to Nur al-Din, his patron in Syria, but that eventually fell apart. Saladin rejected all advances from Nur al-Din to plan a coordinated attack upon the crusader states, and in 1174 ordered the conquest of Yemen in the name of the Ayyubids (so-called for Saladin’s father, who died in 1173).
Nur al-Din recognised Saladin’s challenge to his authority and marched against him. Over the next few months, however, Saladin proved to be extremely lucky: Nur al-Din died, soon followed by the king of Jerusalem.
Saladin set about taking control of Nur al-Din’s empire. He returned to Syria with an army and secured Damascus; he married his former patron’s widow, Ismat al-Din (sometimes known as Asimat); and he announced his intention to rule over the Muslim territories of Egypt (now a Sunni regime), Syria, Mesopotamia and Palestine and to take the holy war to the crusader states.
It took 12 years, and the result was a fragile confederation rather than a fully united Muslim world, but Saladin had achieved his aim through force and diplomacy by 1186.
Was Saladin motivated by personal ambition or religious fervour?
Saladin was driven by both ambition and religious devotion. There was no question that he was out to build a dynastic empire for his family, the Ayyubids. Yet as the writers around him show, he was clearly a pious Muslim.
He actively extended Sunni control over Egypt, which had been ruled by Shiite Muslims under the Fatimids, and sponsored the religious classes considerably. His devotion shines through most clearly in his determination to recover Jerusalem, the third most holy city in Islam as the place the Prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven during his Night Journey.
What do we know about Saladin’s personality?
“Pious, merciful, generous, devoted – according to contemporary Muslim sources Saladin ticked all the boxes. If social media had been around in the 12th century, Saladin's entourage would have been all over it,” says Phillips. “They were great propagandists who wrote constantly about how great their frontman was, so Saladin has this strong, outward-facing PR profile.”
While his exaggerated image might appear to have elements of a literary confection conjured up by his admiring inner circle, Saladin certainly achieved many successes that earned him praise from both ally and enemy alike. “Examining sources written by Christian writers can be a good litmus test,” adds Phillips. “You might expect them to be negative about Saladin – and many of them are – but some provide us with a more nuanced picture.”
William of Tyre, a contemporary Christian historian and chronicler of the crusades, described how Saladin possessed three qualities to frighten any opponent: he was wise in counsel, valiant in war, and generous beyond all measure.
Saladin was regarded as a model of chivalric behaviour, a lover of poetry and hunting, modest in the way he presented himself (he reportedly refused to dye his hair when it turned grey), and his generosity saw him give away money in huge amounts. Incidentally, it was said that after he died his personal treasury was so empty that money had to be borrowed for his funeral. Such munificence to all came at a price though – unwavering loyalty.
What was Saladin’s relationship like with the crusader states?
Saladin’s ultimate aim was a holy war against the crusaders and to oust the Latin Christian forces, or Franks, from the states they had established after the First Crusade in 1099. These included the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
Yet securing his domain had to be achieved first, leading to years of fighting against his fellow Muslims and the seizure of important cities like Damascus, Aleppo and Mosul. Fighting against the crusader states was intermittent and, initially, unsuccessful.
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Saladin’s crushing defeat at the battle of Montgisard in 1177, near Ramla in modern-day Israel, was a severe blow and ended with him fleeing all the way back to Egypt. But gradually the tide turned in his favour: almost two years later, his forces besieged and captured a newly constructed castle at Jacob’s Ford, over the Jordan River.
As momentum built, Saladin set his sights firmly on Jerusalem and attempted a number of invasions between 1183 and 1184. The Franks who had controlled Jerusalem since 1099, however, adopted a frustrating but sensible response, according to Phillips. “They simply refused to engage in conflict. Saladin wanted and needed to fight them, but they always stayed out of range, like a boxer dodging out of the path of their opponent’s blows.”
It would not be until 1187 that he launched a full-scale attack. Utilising a Frankish attack on a Muslim caravan in the trans-Jordan area as a cause for war, he invaded the kingdom of Jerusalem with a huge force of troops gathered from across his domain, and laid siege to the crusader castle at Tiberias. This finally provoked the Franks into battle.
What happened at the battle of Hattin?
The Franks decided to relieve the besieged castle, sending a large army that was ultimately trapped and harassed by Saladin’s forces. “They hoped to march across about 32 kilometres of arid land in the middle of the summer while being bombarded,” explains Phillips. “Saladin had so much water, his men poured it onto the ground in front of the Franks, [and] set alight any dry brush to choke them with smoke.”
On 4 July 1187, the two armies met near an extinct volcano, known as the Horns of Hattin. Saladin outnumbered the crusaders, led by the king of Jerusalem himself, Guy of Lusignan, and secured a resounding victory.
So complete was the destruction of the Christian army at the battle of Hattin that Saladin’s troops were able to capture their great talisman, the True Cross, a large piece of wood encased in silver that was believed by the crusaders to be from the cross upon which Christ was crucified.
The victory had broken the military strength of the Franks. Over the next few months, Saladin captured many cities that had been in crusader control, such as Acre, Nazareth and Jaffa, but more importantly it opened the way to Jerusalem.
How did Saladin recapture Jerusalem?
In September 1187, Saladin took up position outside the strong walls of Jerusalem. If he captured the holy city, some expected him to avenge the massacre of the Muslim defenders in 1099. When the time came, though, he acted differently.
“The Frankish commander of the city did not have many cards to play, but he played them well,” explains Phillips. He gave Saladin two options: agree to their surrender or attack the city and face the consequences. With the fate of potentially thousands of Muslim prisoners and the holy shrines of Al-Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock on the line, Saladin chose the former.
Jerusalem was captured on 2 October with minimal bloodshed, after 88 years of Frankish control.
Saladin allowed those inside to be ransomed, often at low prices or, if they could not pay, for nothing at all. While Christian churches were converted into mosques, Saladin did permit Eastern Orthodox and Coptic Christians to remain in Jerusalem and he ensured the protection of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
“This is the moment where Saladin’s great reputation for mercy really comes to the fore,” says Phillips. “Rather paradoxically, he’s both stuck a stake in the heart of Christianity by capturing the city, and yet has shown great power in this unexpected act of mercy to those of the Christian faith.”
Saladin’s authority, and status in Islam, had never been greater. Yet the capture of Jerusalem simultaneously created an immediate problem, as Phillips explains. With much already in the balance in terms of preserving his large empire and safeguarding the Islamic faith, “he had essentially just pressed the starting button on what we now call the Third Crusade.”
What did Saladin do in the Third Crusade?
The news that Jerusalem had been lost shocked Christian nations in the West, and then rallied them. Pope Gregory VIII called for a crusade with the intention of reconquering the Holy Land and the call was answered by three mighty heavyweights of Western Europe: Philip Augustus of France, the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, and England’s Richard the Lionheart.
Saladin would have to face them all. To create a strong defensive position, he seized as much land from the crusader states as possible and called the Muslim people to action. He could do nothing to stop tens of thousands of Christian men and women, inspired by the loss of Jerusalem, from signing up to the cause and making their way from Europe. In 1188, the first of these crusaders landed on Saladin’s doorstep.
Yet the fact that Saladin had failed to capture the city of Tyre was significant, as the fortress on the coast became a rallying point for what was left of the Christian forces he had already defeated. From there, Guy of Lusignan laid siege to Acre (modern-day Akko).
This would be the great set piece of the Third Crusade, described by contemporaries as akin to the ancient Siege of Troy.
“Saladin was not expecting this, and he ended up besieging Guy, the man who was besieging Acre,” says Phillips. His attempts to break through the crusader ranks led nowhere, and a long and arduous siege dragged on. At one stage, a truce was decided upon due to the physical and mental exhaustion on both sides.
Saladin struggled to maintain morale amidst his own dire health. “Suffering from colic, he had terrible stomach pain and vomiting,” explains Phillips. “It was as if his immune system had packed in.”
Luck did strike once again, though: in 1190, while travelling through modern-day Turkey, Frederick Barbarossa drowned and his army broke up before getting anywhere near Jerusalem. But with the arrival of kings Philip Augustus and Richard I in the summer of 1191, the fate of Acre was sealed. With momentum and sheer number of troops, the siege was broken and the city fell into crusader hands.
Those inside were forced to surrender, but Richard did not treat them with the same understanding that Saladin had shown in Jerusalem. “In what can only be described as a war crime, Richard executed around 2,500 prisoners in cold blood,” says Phillips, “As well as a horrifying atrocity, this was something that humiliated Saladin. It showed he was incapable of looking after his people.”
Did the Third Crusade succeed in recapturing Jerusalem?
From Acre, Richard marched his army down the coastline and defeated Saladin at the battle at Arsuf in September 1191. Following a final defeat for the Muslim forces at Jaffa, in July 1192, the need for diplomacy was at an all-time high. Saladin was ill – as was Richard – and both were running out of money and morale.
While Richard seemed convinced that negotiations could get somewhere, Saladin refused to attend himself, noting that rulers only met once they had an agreement in place. Instead, Richard spent a lot of time talking with Saladin’s brother (and later, successor) Saphadin. Yet despite them getting on remarkably well, they failed to reach a truce at this point.
Richard had to deliver on the main goal of the crusade: he marched his army to Jerusalem. At such a long distance inland across both mountains and plains, and with the crusader forces depleted and tired, it would have been a monumental task to capture the city.
Saladin was able to stall Richard’s progress, forcing the crusade into the harsh winter of 1191. Facing appallingly bad weather and fears of being surrounded, Richard’s forces retreated from the idea of any attack on Jerusalem.
Then when a second attempt failed in the summer of 1192, Richard concluded that even if he could capture the city, he would not be able to hold it. “His justification was that he did not want to go down in the annals as the man who reclaimed Jerusalem and then lost it,” says Phillips. “It's a curious calculation, and one which devastated his army.”
he Third Crusade ended with a negotiated truce in September 1192. Saladin’s forces had been battered, yet he had held the mighty crusader armies to a draw, secured a three-year and eight months peace treaty and kept hold of Jerusalem. While it was agreed that Christian pilgrims could have access to the city and its holy sites, the ultimate aim of the crusade set out by the pope had been unsuccessful.
How did Saladin die?
Saladin died on 4 March 1193, just a matter of months after the Christian armies of the Third Crusade had left. He was in his mid-50s.
He had returned to his favourite city, Damascus, where he fell ill. Suffering from crippling stomach pain and vomiting, his physicians attempted to aid him using treatments like bleeding and emetics. These ultimately worsened his condition and likely, along with the toll of his many years as a warrior and leader, caused his death.
Jonathan Phillips is Professor of History of the Crusades at Royal Holloway, University of London. He was speaking to Emily Briffett about Saladin’s life and legacy on the HistoryExtra podcast.
]]>Leper Crusaders: how disease-stricken knights forged an army in the Holy Landhttps://www.historyextra.com/membership/leper-crusaders/2024-12-06T09:34:32.000ZIn the history of the Crusades, a number of military orders made their names with their exploits in the Holy Land. The likes of the Knights Templar, the Knights Hospitaller, and the Teutonic Order all formed in the 12th century, in the decades after the First Crusade (1095-99) had captured the holy city of Jerusalem from Islamic control.
Alongside the more prominent orders, however, was a small group called the Order of Saint Lazarus. Although formed with the sole purpose of caring for the sick, by the 13th century the Lazarites, adorned in white with a green cross, were among the ranks of crusader knights.
But they were no ordinary fighters: the majority of them suffered from the dreaded scourge of leprosy.
Rise of the order
The beginnings of the Order of Saint Lazarus can be found in a leper hospital in 12th-century Jerusalem, with the purpose of helping and caring for sickly pilgrims to the Holy Land. Leprosy appears to have been particularly prevalent in the Near East in the 12th and 13th centuries, at the same time as waves of Christian invaders descended on the region.
In 1142, Fulk, the Christian king of Jerusalem, conceded to “the church of Saint Lazarus and the convent of the sick who are called miselli, an estate… which is between the Mount of Olives and the Red Cistern on the road which leads to the River Jordan.” Miselli can be roughly translated to “little wretched ones” and referred to leprous beggars.
The land granted to this church was well situated, for it was on a key crossroads close to the Jordan, where those suffering from leprosy could bathe in its supposedly curative waters. Styling themselves ‘Lazarites’, the monks who cared for the afflicted were successful enough to buy more land two years later and expand their ministrations.
A living death
In the 21st century, it’s known that leprosy (also known as Hansen’s disease) is spread in humans by Mycobacterium leprae and Mycobacterium lepromatosis (leprosy bacteria). Symptoms include thickened and deeply furrowed skin, discoloured sores on the body, and numbness in the arms and legs.
If untreated, it can lead to severe facial disfigurement, paralysis, and blindness. The hands and fingers tend to wither and shorten. Non-healing ulcers can also develop on the soles of the feet, forcing many sufferers to shamble painfully as they walk. Though the disease itself is not fatal, complications arising from infection can often lead to septicaemia and death.
During the medieval age, it was often called a “living death”, for the sufferer would have looked – to the unscientific and unsympathetic eye – like a moving corpse.
Those suffering from leprosy were often viewed with horror and suspicion by a fearful population, especially in the wake of the Black Death. The classic image of the hooded leper, shunned by a society who assumed the disease was divine punishment from God, does hold much truth.
However, more recent scholarship is redefining the longtime perception of the medieval leper as an eternal outcast. At the time of the Crusades, many regarded the leper as suffering a type of purgatory on Earth, and so believed that they would ascend straight to heaven upon death.
Accepting donations from the nobility of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, the Lazarites continued to grow and gained more ‘lazar houses’ across the Crusader states, or Outremer. Pilgrims and penitents would come to pray and care for the lepers at these houses.
The most spectacular case of penance was that of a nobleman called Alberic, who “ate those things which the lepers had left, kissed each one daily after Mass, washed and wiped their feet, made their beds, and carried the weak on top of his shoulders.”
Alberic must have felt himself to have led a particularly violent and impious life prior to serving at the lazar house, considering that he whipped himself relentlessly and wore a goat-hair shirt (worn so the coarse hair would scratch the wearer). He even took the bowl used to wash the lepers and, though the blood and discharge within moved him to nausea, immerse his face in it.
For the first 50 years of its existence, the monks of the Lazarite Order only concerned themselves with tending to the sick. But this would all change after the great sultan Saladin recaptured Jerusalem for the Muslim world in 1187.
Men who are not afraid to die
One of the greatest problems faced by Crusader forces was manpower: they were almost always outnumbered by opposing Muslim armies. To combat this shortcoming, several orders took an active role in defending Outremer, including the aforementioned Knights Templar, Knights Hospitaller and Teutonic Order.
These military orders contained some of the most highly trained and motivated fighting men in the Christian world. But when a knight contracted the dreaded disease of leprosy, he would usually be ordered to live separately, or encouraged to report to a lazar house. Since leprosy in its early stages rarely renders the sufferer infirm, the Lazarites began to add to their ranks men who were the fighting elite of the Crusader states, and could still wield a blade.
In 1191, the Lazarites relocated their headquarters to the coastal city of Acre and built a fortress-hospice called l’Eglise des chevaliers de Saint Lazare, or House of the Knights of St Lazarus. Popes gave them similar dispensations and tax breaks to the ones bestowed upon other key military orders, while their knights began to combine military and medical duties.
At the beginning, the knights were likely all made up of lepers. It is definitely known that Walter de Novo Castro and Reynald de Fleury, two master generals after the order’s militarisation, suffered from the disease. In battle, Lazarite knights wore a green cross on a white background. It is likely that brothers with facial deformities or scarring would have wrapped up in white bandages. Though the group was small in number, they must have been a terrifying sight, especially given that their opponents may have believed that close combat ran the risk of contracting leprosy.
The ‘Leper King’?
The most famous sufferer of leprosy in the Crusader states was one of its greatest kings: Baldwin IV. King of Jerusalem from 1174 to 1185, it is likely he had an association with the Lazarites.
His father Almaric gave an annual rent of 50 bezants to the lazar house in Jerusalem, specifically for the support of one leper. This was in 1171, around the time he became aware of his son’s condition. By the time he ascended the throne at the age of 13, Baldwin’s leprosy had already caused one hand to wither. He was therefore taught to ride a horse using his knees. He became known as the ‘Leper King’.
In 1177, Saladin led a huge army of his Ayyubids against the Crusaders, and Baldwin elected to head up his forces in person. As one chronicler put it: “Everyone despaired of the life of the sick king, already half dead, but he drew upon his courage and rode to meet Saladin.”
In the subsequent battle of Montgisard, Baldwin achieved a spectacular against-the-odds victory, completely routing Saladin’s army. This was in large part down to Baldwin's daring leadership, not to mention horsemanship.
Yet by 1183, Baldwin was blind, had lost the use of both hands, and could not walk without help. Until his death in 1185, he forced himself to perform administrative duties. Though never an official member of the Lazarite Order, Baldwin was in every respect a leper knight.
How successful were the Lazarites?
Despite occasional battlefield successes, the tide opposing Christian forces in the Holy Land was unstoppable, and the position of the Crusader states grew ever more precarious as the 13th century ground on. At the battle of La Forbie in 1244, an allied army – made up of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, the military orders and breakaway Ayyubids – took on the Muslim forces of Egypt. While the Egyptians swept up much of the enemy, the knights – including the Lazarites – made a ferocious mounted charge, which nearly restored the situation.
Even when they pressed too far into the Egyptian ranks and became surrounded, they fought bravely until eventually be overwhelmed. Some Hospitallers and Templars cut their way out, but Robert of Nantes, Patriarch of Jerusalem, reported that “all the leper knights of the [Lazarite Order] have been miserably killed by the enemies of the faith.”
Further losses were to come in 1252, when the reformed Lazarites decided, on their own initiative, to launch a chevauchée near Ramla. This was a fast-moving raid aimed at civilian targets, during which cattle would be seized and crops burned, in an effort to spread terror.
In the end, things did not go so well for the Lazarites, as one French knight called De Joinville remembered: “After [the master of St Lazarus] had collected his spoils the Saracens attacked him, and so thoroughly defeated him that of all the men he had in his company no more than four escaped.”
The defeats at La Forbie and the Ramla raid crippled the already small Lazarite order. To replace their losses, it became necessary to accept healthy knights into the ranks. For those men, this was seen as an act of extreme piety and faith in God, for they risked contracting leprosy.
By 1255, Pope Alexander IV described the order as a convent “of active knights and others, both healthy and leprous, for the purpose of driving out the enemies of the Christian name.” And in 1260, it became official policy for a leprous Templar brother to transfer to the Lazarites.
Yet despite their (often-suicidal) courage, the tiny band of Lazarite knights could not hope to hold the Crusader states. Matters came to a head at the Siege of Acre.
The Siege of Acre
In April 1291, a large Muslim army from the Mamluk sultanate in Egypt surrounded Acre. To many, the fall of the city was inevitable, leading women and children to evacuate by sea, but most of the fighting men stayed – including the knights of Saint Lazarus.
By now the order had been so whittled away that it could only muster around 25 knights for the defence, with some backing from lighter armed retainers.
Tightening the ring, the Mamluks brought up siege engines to batter the walls. The night of 15/16 April saw a foray led by the Templars, which probably included Lazarite brethren. Though unsuccessful in burning the siege engines, they engaged over a thousand Mamluks and brought home valuable trophies.
Yet nothing could stop the fall of the city. On 18 May, the Mamluks attacked the entire length of the wall. Templars and remaining Lazarites had been given responsibility for defending the Montmusard wall. This constituted the short straw: a lengthy section with a small number of defence towers, built straight which meant that it lacked opportunities for crossbowmen and archers to provide covering fire.
When the ‘Accursed Tower’ fell on the other side of the city, the Templars scrambled to retake it, leaving the Lazarites to guard the wall. The Mamluks pressed Montmusard again with the Lazarites spread too thin. All the “military brethren” of the order fought to the death.
The fall of Acre represented the end of the Crusader presence in the Near East.
What happened to the Lazarites?
While the Lazarite cause in the Holy Land collapsed, the order was growing in Europe. During the Crusader period, they had built a network of lazar houses centred on the Castle of Boigny near Orléans in France, and Lazarite monks continued to care for the afflicted.
The next centuries would see the order survive papal disfavour, political revolutions, and two world wars. Today, the modern Order of Saint Lazarus boasts 4,500 members across five continents. And it still maintains its original mission of caring for the sick, with a special focus on the one to two million people still suffering with leprosy.
Matthew Doherty is a military historian, writer and teacher
]]>Should we stop talking about the crusades?https://www.historyextra.com/membership/crusades-podcast-william-purkis/2024-11-20T07:30:00.000ZWhen you think about 'the crusades', you probably think of a series of military campaigns in the Holy Land, representing a great battle between the forces of Islam and Christianity. But is this actually a helpful way to view the subject? Speaking to Emily Briffett, historian William Purkis opens the lid on historical scholarship to reveal the wide and complex reality of crusading fervour in the Middle Ages – and considers how, if we look at it from a different perspective, we might gain a truer insight into the medieval mindset.
]]>Dark knights and crusading criminalshttps://www.historyextra.com/membership/crusading-criminals-long-reads-podcast-steve-tibble/2024-09-09T06:30:02.000ZThe crusades sparked centuries of violence and chaos, and not just on the battlefield. This Long Read, written by Steve Tibble, examines the surge in criminality, from petty theft to cold-blooded murder, that accompanied the warring armies to the Holy Land.
HistoryExtra Long Reads brings you the best articles from BBC History Magazine, direct to your ears. Today’s feature originally appeared in the August 2024 issue, and has been voiced in partnership with the RNIB.
]]>Saladin: life of the weekhttps://www.historyextra.com/membership/video-saladin-life/2024-09-08T19:54:39.000ZThe name of medieval leader and military commander Saladin has gone down in history for unifying the Muslim Near East, capturing the holy city of Jerusalem and an iconic rivalry with Richard the Lionheart. But, is this extraordinary reputation just the product of his savvy PR team? Speaking to Emily Briffett, Jonathan Phillips charts the extraordinary rise of the Muslim leader, who usurped his patron before reaching dizzying heights – and questions how his legacy has changed across the centuries.