When Richard had arrived in Acre after leaving Cyprus, the French King, who had been eagerly awaiting his arrival, was overjoyed to see him. He made a significant gesture by wading out to the galley in which Berengaria had been sailing, lifting her in his arms and carrying her ashore so that she need not get her feet wet. That implied that all animosity over Alais was at an end.
The two Kings embraced affectionately. Now the conquest of Acre seemed certain. It had been inspiring to see the effect Richard had on the men. He looked magnificent, of course. They cheered him, the sick rose from their beds, and they cried: “Coeur de Lion is here. Now we shall be victorious.” There were men from Germany, Italy and Spain as well as from France.
Now the Kings of France and England conferred together and planned to march on Jerusalem once Acre had fallen. Philip Augustus warned Richard of the mighty Saladin. Moreover, the Saracens had a deadly weapon which they called Greek Fire. Richard knew of this: he had encountered it before. It was sulphur, wine and pitch mixed together with Persian gum and oil, which produced an almost inextinguishable fire. A mixture of vinegar and sand was the only substance that appeared to be of any use against it—and that not very successfully. Greek Fire had impeded progress considerably.
Richard had a new contrivance with him called Mate Griffon. It was a tower on wheels which could be run up against a castle wall, so that men on top could step onto the castle and take it. It was easier than battering the way in.
They planned the assault on Acre. Richard wanted to perfect his weapons before they began. There was a mangonel, a machine which threw stones high in the air so that they fell into a city, causing great damage. This was jocularly called “the Bad Neighbor.” The Saracens invented a machine to throw the stones back which they called the “Bad Kinsman.”
In the midst of these preparations Richard was attacked by the ague and fever. Anselm had no need to tell me of his frustration. He was really ill. Berengaria and Joanna nursed him. Berengaria was delighted to look after him, for when he was well she scarcely saw him and she was deeply enamored of him.
The King would have liked them to wait until he was well before they began the assault, but that was not possible. He could not, however, be prevailed upon to stay in his tent while the battle was going on. He ordered that a litter be brought and he was taken out on it; he shouted his orders to his men; but to see Richard the Lionheart in such a state robbed them of their spirit.
The battle ceased temporarily and the siege was still unbroken. The strangest thing happened then. Richard had heard a great deal about Saladin. His followers saw him and immediately believed in victory. It was the same as with Richard. But Richard was sick, and it was said that he was near to death.
The two men were very much aware of each other. Richard was eager to meet Saladin. He knew that he had a formidable enemy and that in his state he could not hope to compete with him. Richard’s view of Philip Augustus as a soldier was not great. He might score in diplomacy but the battlefield was another matter. Richard knew that Acre could not be taken with Philip Augustus in command.
He must meet Saladin and see if some terms could be arranged. Saladin was not only a great fighter but a man of honor. He was too fine a man to show meanness or pettiness, and he and Richard respected each other as one great leader did another. They instinctively knew certain things about each other because they were so much alike. Richard sent a messenger to Saladin’s camp asking if he would meet him.
Saladin’s reply was that he could not talk with the King of England except over food and drink, and if they ate together as friends, how could they fight each other?
The messengers were allowed to return to their camps unharmed.
Then this strange thing happened. Richard was in his bed, prostrate with fever, when one of the guards came to tell him that a messenger was without and wished to speak with him.
“Bring him in,” said Richard.
The guard did so and remained, suspecting treachery. Richard commanded him to leave.
The messenger leaned over Richard and touched his brow.
“You know who I am,” he said.
There was such accord between them that Richard had no hesitation in answering: “You are Saladin.”
“I am Saleh-ed-Din,” he said.
“Why do you come to me on my bed of sickness?”
“Because I have a talisman which can cure you.”
“We are fighting against each other.”
“You are my enemy on the battlefield. In the sickroom you are my friend.”
“Is it possible to be both?”
“We will prove it to be.”
He held a stone object in his hand. The King was helpless before his enemy but he had no fear. It might have been an assassin’s dagger which was held over him, but, helpless as he was, Richard believed that this man had come in friendship.
When the stone was laid on Richard’s brow, he was aware of a coolness sweeping over him. He felt a little better.
“You need chicken and fruit. You do not have them in your camp. They shall be sent to you.”
“This is beyond belief.”
“There is much that is beyond belief.”
“But why ... why?”
“You are a great warrior.”
“Better for your cause that I should die here miserably like this.”
“No. You may die in battle. So may I. That is what is intended for us. I want to face you out there. It is decreed that we shall be enemies. We might have been friends ... and for this night we are. You serve your God and I serve mine. Perhaps it was your God who sent me here tonight and my God who bade me come.”
He laid a cool hand on Richard’s brow.
“You speak strange words,” said Richard, “but I feel the fever going out of me.”
“So should it be.”
“You are a brave man to come through our camp.”
“Allah protected me.”
“I shall add my protection to his. You shall not be harmed when you go back. Shall we meet again?”
“It is in the hands of Allah and perhaps your God. And now I shall go. I believe you will find the fever is past.”
Richard called his guard and told him that the messenger was to be escorted from the camp, and if any harm came to him, whoever caused it would be answerable to him.
All were surprised when that very night Richard slept peacefully, and next morning the fever was gone.
He might have thought he had had a dream, but gifts began to arrive that day. There were grapes, dates and young chickens with the compliments of the Sultan Saleh-ed-Din.
When I heard that story, I was amazed. It seemed to me so strange. I could have believed that Richard had suffered a hallucination. But then Saladin was an unusual man, as Richard was. There was some bond between them. Richard had always been an admirer of his own sex. Perhaps there was some invisible rapport between such men. They were two of the great heroes of the day. One worshipped Allah, the other the Christian God. Perhaps the two were not so very far apart. If that were so, why this war? Why could we not sit down and come to terms about the differences? If the Saracens owned Jerusalem, why should not the Christians be able to visit the shrines in peace? And if the Christians owned it, why should they shut it to the Saracens?
However, that almost mythical meeting between the two leaders made me ponder. I must confess I doubted its authenticity, but the fact remained that from that time Richard began to recover.
Anselm’s story continued. The King of France also became ill. He had been less affected than Richard but made far more of his illness. In Anselm’s view he was getting very tired of the campaign. It was always thus with the crusades. People set out with such fervor, dreaming of the glorious deeds they would perform and the recognition they would get in Heaven; but when the reality was thrust upon them, it must occur to them that there were easier ways of earning eternal salvation.