Why Richard the Lionheart’s Crusade Fell Just Short
The Sins of the Father Visited Upon the Son
In October of 1192, a crisis in England forced Richard the Lionheart to halt his legendary Crusade. Stunning victories against an overwhelming foe had brought Richard and his soldiers tantalizingly close to recapturing of Jerusalem. Yet despite these triumphs, the ultimate prize eluded them, and Richard was compelled to negotiate a three-year peace treaty with Saladin, the goal of which was buy himself time to attend to those urgent matters back home before returning to the Holy Land to finish what he started.
Of the many wild things one learns in studying the Third Crusade, perhaps the most subtly devastating is the role of Richard’s deceased father in those troubles that would recall Richard to England and thus doom the glorious enterprise. Henry II’s misdeeds lived on after his death. It’s a subject worth meditating on because it reveals just how far the consequences of our sins can reach.
Treachery
The urgent matter in England was the attempt of traitors to take Richard’s kingdom. As he had expected, his brother John would be up to no good, fomenting rebellion amongst unruly nobles. But John, nicknamed “Softsword,” probably couldn’t have done real damage had it not been for his sponsor and co-conspirator, Philip II of France.
Richard and Philip shared a complicated history. (And, no, it has nothing to do with the rumors invented by a reckless 20th century historian about their sexual proclivities.) Philip was supposed to be Richard’s brother in this campaign, taking Jerusalem together and dividing the glory and spoils of conquest evenly. Their fraternity, though, was not to last: not only did Philip abandon their Crusade, but he shamelessly exploited Richard’s absence from England despite taking vows to leave his lands alone while Richard was away.
There are many reasons why the King of France could talk himself into such a questionable course of action. When a man as ambitious as Philip comes upon a golden opportunity to weaken his stronger rival, an opportunity that might never come again, advantage can overwhelm honor; it’s all too human to, in frustration, deliver a cheapshot to a superior opponent. Replacing England’s lion with a house-cat like John would allow Philip to swipe continental lands held by the Plantagenets and aggrandize France. And to be fair, Richard was probably difficult to work with. One also suspects more than a little jealousy: a man as illustrious as Richard Coeur de Lion, the embodiment of heroic chivalry, likely inspired a good deal of insecurity in a lesser figure like Philip, who was not accustomed to being outshone.
A still deeper and more personal reason divided them as well. In addition to being brothers in campaign, they were supposed to be actual brothers in law. It had long been agreed that Richard was to marry Philip’s sister Alice, Countess of Vexin—but on his way to the Holy Land Richard wed Berengaria of Navarre instead. A self-respecting brother is honor-bound to take vengeance on behalf of his scorned sister, is he not?
The Sins of the Father
So why would Richard break an agreement that his family had with the Capets? He must have known he would make a dangerous enemy out of it.
Here’s where Richard’s father enters. About a decade before the Third Crusade, Henry II had an affair with the French princess, who had come to live in England as Henry’s ward. Rumor had it that she bore him a child. To make matters worse, Richard’s relationship with his father was literally combative. As a teenager he had participated in his brother’s rebellion against the king, who for his part had probably beckoned such unruliness in his sons by literally imprisoning their mother. For a man as proud as Richard to marry a woman so compromised by his father would have been disgraceful.
It’s almost difficult to imagine a more needlessly and selfishly vile thing for a man to do than bed his son’s betrothed.
With his little fling Henry put both Richard and Philip in impossible situations and assured their strife. Richard could not marry the woman his father deflowered, and Philip would not abide the disrespect to his family. Thus an almost straight line can be drawn from Henry’s licentiousness to his son’s failure. As the text goes, “The LORD is longsuffering, and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity and transgression, and by no means clearing the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.” Richard would still go down as one of the most renowned warriors not just of medieval Christendom but of all time—but that ultimate victory in taking Jerusalem might have put him in even rarer company.
The most tantalizing detail is this: if Richard could only have stayed in the Holy Land just six months longer an incredible opportunity would have presented itself. Soon after Richard’s departure, Saladin fell ill and died. Richard could have exploited the uncertainty and taken Jerusalem, had that ugly business back home with John and Philip not recalled him.
We all know our sins can come back to haunt us; what’s even more distressing—what this tragic history shows—is how our sins can haunt those dear to us, how they can cost one’s son Jerusalem.
I did not know about the particulars of this story. I read it a few times to try to understand the underlying tone and details. If only Richard had a crystal ball he would have had the benefit of making different decisions like marrying Phillips sister, or not returning to his kingdom so soon thus missing out on an opportunity for more greatness. There is no way to ever know sometimes how things will turn out. One must look at a situation and try to make the best decision that can be made in the present. “The Lord is long suffering, and also of great mercy” is what we have. Sometimes it’s a crapshoot, and sometimes we get it wrong. We are all mixed bags. None of us leave this world without a past with some mistakes. Destiny for a future generation is not definitively set in stone, we all have free will to change it. Maybe this is the wrong perspective. Thought provoking article.