WHILE Kelaoun was yielding up his breath at Cairo and Chalil was promising to execute his father's dying command, and imans were imprecating the curse of Mahomet on the Christians of the East, Acre was out of the impending peril, was astir and preparing.
The inhabitants of Acre were not without enc agement, so far as the sovereigns of Christendom were concerned, to present a brave front to the gathered foe. Henry de Lusignan, King of Cyprus, lai with hundreds of warriors to fight for the remnant of that kingdom which he claimed; John de G came from France to represent Philip the Fair; from England, Otho de Grandison, who had accompanied the great Edward in the last crusade, arr to intimate that, whenever the Conqueror of Eves could be spared from Europe, he would come to defend the city which he had formerly saved.
On hearing of Kelaoun's death, the Christians indulged in vague hopes of the danger passing over. At about the beginning of April, 1291, their delusions on this point were dispelled by the appearance of Chalil on that plain which a century earlier, had been occupied by Saladin. The army of the young Sultan presented a most formidable aspect. Two hundred thousand men, sixty thousand of whom were mounted, ranged themselves around the Sultan's banner; and, covering several leagues of ground, extended from Mount Carmel to the sea. "With them came three hundred machines of war, one of which was so large that a hundred chariots were scarcely sufficient for its transportation.
After the Grand Master of the Temple had made an ineffectual attempt to negotiate, and been accused of "treachery" for so doing, the Sultan roused the ardor of his soldiers; and, despatching his emirs to possess themselves of Tyre, Sidon, and the other Christian cities, he prepared to commence the siege of Acre. The inhabitants at first, exhibited high courage, and arranged themselves in four divisions. One of these was commanded by the Grand Master of the Templars; another by the Grand Master of the Hospital; a third, consisting of Englishmen and Frenchmen, was commanded by Otho de Grandison and John de Gresli; and a fourth, composed of the fighting men of Syria and the warriors from the isles of the Mediterranean, by the King of Cyprus. Each of these divisions was charged with the defence of certain towers and ramparts; the King of Cyprus taking his post at the tower and gate of St. Anthony, on the east of the city.
The siege at length commenced; and the Moslem warriors, fighting under the Sultan's eye, pursued the operations with incredible vigor, while the Christians conducted the defence in such a way as to inflict much loss on their assailants. The machines of the besiegers not only hurled fire-pots and leaden balls, but huge stones, which, when they fell, shook palaces and houses to their foundations; but the Christians retaliated with a vigor which cost many thousands of the besiegers their lives, and caused the Sultan grave doubts as to the issue of the conflict. United by a feeling of common danger, and not without hope of aid from Europe, the besieged hurled arrows, darts, and stones with destructive effect from the walls; and, ever and anon, made sorties with such skill and courage, as to carry carnage and confusion into the ranks of their adversaries.
The success of these adventurous sallies inspired the crusaders with a dangerous degree of temerity; and, on one occasion, carried away by enthusiasm, they penetrated into the Saracen camp. The exploit was fatal in its results. While some were repulsed with slaughter, others, encompassed by countless foes, were cut down; and the Moslem cavalry, fastening the heads of the slain round the necks of their horses, went to exhibit them to the Sultan as trophies of victory.
But though at first, the crusaders fought with the utmost ardor, their zeal, as weeks passed, began to cool. Their courage was exhausted by fatigue; their numbers rapidly diminished; the struggle gradually became more hopeless; and the attacks of the besiegers grew more frequent. Many, under such circumstances, began to despair; and, discouraging each other by sinister predictions, exhibited anxiety to leave a city which they could not defend. The quay was daily crowded with numbers eager to depart; and, to the evil of desertion, was added dissention among those in authority. There was no leader sufficiently elevated by genius and renown above the others to command general obedience, and there was only one man in Europe whose presence could have changed the fate of the East. At that time the King of England was too busily occupied with the consolidation of the empire of the Bretwaldas to reconquer the kingdom of the Baldwins; and every day brought the last refuge of the Christians of the East nearer its catastrophe.
The Sultan, having been a month before Acre, became impatient of further delay. He therefore announced his will that the city should be taken by storm; and, on the 1st of May, the signal was given for an assault. At daybreak the drums of the Saracens, placed on three hundred camels, sent forth a deafening sound; the most formidable of those machines of war which had been brought from Cairo, moved forward to batter the ramparts of St. Anthony, and the Moslem soldiers, planting ladders at the base of the walls, commenced the attack with the spirit of men resolute to conquer or die.
At this point the King of Cyprus commanded, and had the advantage of heading soldiers who recognized his authority. For the whole of that day he conducted the defence so gallantly, that the Saracens were kept at bay; and when night suspended operations, they retreated without having gained any advantage. Nevertheless, the King began to think more of saving himself and his army than the city, and resolved on getting away. Betiring in the evening, under pretext of taking repose, he promised to resume his post at daybreak; but, meanwhile, he embarked with all his soldiers, ordered his sails to be hoisted, and steered towards his insular dominion.
When morning dawned, and the desertion of the King of Cyprus became known, the crusaders loudly expressed their indignation. The Saracens, becoming aware of the circumstance, redoubled their exertions, and battered the walls with rams till a breach was made. A fearful conflict now took place; Christian and Saracen fighting hand to hand, and steel to steel. No quarter was asked or given; on all sides scenes of valor and despair were enacted; and when night closed over the city, two thousand crusaders had been added to the previous carnage.
Nevertheless, the Sultan felt as if the prize were about to elude his grasp. Acre appeared not one city, but a number of cities within one wall, all of which were defended by their inhabitants; and these, having been once more addressed by the Patriarch, were girding themselves up for a desperate effort. Moreover, the Templars and Knights of St. John were determined to struggle to the last, and were hourly performing prodigies of valor. William de Clermont, marshal of the Knights of St. John, won particular distinction, presenting himself wherever the danger was greatest, and leading on the Christians to the destruction of their foes. The Sultan, astonished at the obstinacy of the defence, began to lose hope; but, influenced by imans and renegades, he held to his purpose.; and, while threatening with the severest punishment all who should fly from the face of a Christian, promised high rewards to any one who should plant the standard of the Prophet, not on the walls, but in the heart of the Christian city.
Having thus endeavored to profit at once by the hopes and fears of his soldiers, Chalil, on the morning of the 4th of May, gave the signal for a decisive attack. Led by the Sultan, and animated by his presence, the Saracens stormed the gate of St. Anthony, now defended by the Templars, and, without regard to the loss they sustained, pushed on the attack with frenzied courage. The crusaders fought more fiercely than ever; but it was of no avail. The Saracens pursued the attack with an impetuosity that defied resistance, beat down the ramparts and rushed into the breach.
The Knights of the Temple were now in despair. Their valor, however, was proof against the peril they had to front. Resolving to attack the entmy's camp, they formed in order, and sallied furiously out with lances in rest. But it was rashly done. Encountered by superior numbers, they were driven back after a sanguinary conflict; and had scarcely reached the ramparts, when the Grand Master, struck with an arrow, fell mortally wounded in the midst of his knights. A few hundreds of warriors now remained to guard the gate; and these fell back before the press of a multitude of foes, fiery with fanaticism and lavish of blood.
The elements seemed to conspire with the Sultan to strike dismay and terror into the hearts of the Christians. As the day advanced, gloom spread over the sky, and gradually deepened into such darkness that men could hardly distinguish friends frdm foes. At the same time, a tempest burst with fearful violence on the city, adding to the consternation and confusion.
At this stage, when despair was in every heart, and when the destruction of Acre was inevitable, one man appeared to cherish hope. Rallying some fugitives, and shouting his battle-cry, William de Clermont, marshal of St. John, spurred towards the gate of St. Anthony, which had just been abandoned. With shouts of defiance, and almost alone, he couched his spear and penetrated several times into the ranks of the Saracens. Returning alive, he rode to the marketplace, and seemed bent on new adventures. But his steed, jaded and fatigued, stood still, unable to move; and the gallant Marshal, pierced with an arrow, sunk in the heart of the city of which he had been the bravest defender.
The Christians now perceived that the struggle was over; and, animated by the instinct of self-preservation, they crowded to the quay in the hope of escaping. But this was no easy matter. The ships in the port were too few to convey the multitude who rushed to embark; and the sea was so agitated by the storm, that the ships could not approach the shore. The consequence was a scene of unspeakable horrors. Everybody was imploring the aid, which few were in a position to render. Wives were calling on their husbands; mothers on their sons; children on their parents. Many, becoming desperate, threw themselves into the bay, and sunk in attempting to swim to the ships, or yielded to their fate, when beaten off from the sides. Noble ladies, whose brothers and sires had fallen during the siege, appeared on the quay, offering their diamonds and jewels to be saved, and even securing a passage from the sacked city by promising the mariners to become their wives, if carried beyond the reach of the infidels.
The Patriarch of Jerusalem had nobly done his duty during the siege, andappeared to regard calmly the prospect of dying amid the ruins of the city. The friends of the venerable man, however, carried him to the quay and placed him securely in his vessel. Unfortunately, the charity of the Patriarch moved him to receive on board all who implored his protection; and, the vessel sinking under its load, all on board found a watery grave. While this was occurring, m the Sultan's cavalry, galloping down to the harbor, chased the multitude into the water; and the weapons of the Saracens speedily despatched such of the Christians as hesitated to trust themselves to the waves of the sea.
By this time the conflict was deluging every street with blood. The Christian warriors disputed the ground foot by foot; and, on all sides, corpses lay in heaps. At every church, palace, and public edifice, the crusaders made a stand and when they saw these places taken, one after another, by the Saracens and given to the flames, they threw themselves, with desperate intent, into the castle of the Templars.
On learning the situation of the warriors who had escaped the swords of his soldiers, the Sultan caused the castle of the Templars to be besieged; and soldiers, instructed to put all within to the sword, surrounded the stronghold. For several days, the knights maintained themselves with desperate valor; and, driven to the tower of the Grand Master, attempted to resist their fate. But, the tower, having been undermined, was utterly insecure, and, while the Saracens were mounting to an assault, the structure gave way with a fearful crash. The Christian knights, their Moslem assailants, and many women and children, who had there sought an asylum, all perished beneath the ruins.
The long struggle was now at an end; and Acre in the hands of the Sultan. Destruction, however, was the policy of the Saracens in regard to all that the Christians had reared. Churches, towers, and ramparts, were demolished; palaces and public edifices were given to the flames; and everything was destroyed, likely to again attract the warriors of the West to the coast of Syria.
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From John G. Edgar
The Crusades and the Crusaders, 1860
