Richard & John: Kings at War (86 page)

The ultimate assault on Richard’s reputation comes with the assertion that his military reputation has been absurdly exaggerated, that he was indeed no more than a journeyman warrior who made many bad, and sometimes egregious, mistakes. The
reductio ad absurdum
of this tendency comes in recent works purporting to cast doubt on the very idea of a ‘crusade’ or in the assertion that Richard’s fame was unjustified, since medieval battles were no more than a glamorised form of gangland warfare without strategy, with one pack of thugs attacking another.
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A more nuanced criticism accepts Richard’s talent, but then subjects his conduct of the crusades to a ferocious critique. Among the charges levelled at the Lionheart are that he unconscionably delayed the arrival of his forces in the Holy Land, that he directed campaigns for personal gain, alienated his allies by his arrogance, needlessly risked himself in personal combat, was an inadequate master of logistics and commissariat, and was conservative and circumspect in his strategy; the charge-sheet ends with the incontestable fact that he failed to take Jerusalem, the ostensible point of the crusade.
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The issue of arrogance has already been dealt with, and it might be added in passing that no ‘great man’ in any walk of life, whether soldier, statesman, banker, writer, actor, director could ever achieve anything without an above-average share of ego, which to their opponents is always construed as arrogance. As to Richard’s needlessly exposing himself to danger, the critics are on sounder ground. Certainly his captains thought the criticism valid and often reproached him with it - and Richard responded by boasting about how he had disregarded their advice .
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Whether his Saracen opponents, who came close to capturing him on several occasions because of his excessive daring, thought him rash and foolish in insisting on being in the thick of action, is far less certain.
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So, yes, Richard was reckless and heedless of his own safety but contingency pays no regard to actuarial probabilities; Frederick Barbarossa was not reckless, yet the German emperor perished before reaching the Holy Land and the English king did not.

The long period that elapsed between Richard’s taking the Cross and his eventual arrival in Outremer does, however, merit further consideration. Richard took his vows as a crusader in 1187 but did not land near Acre until four years later. Why was this? We must remember first of all the money that had to be raised - the Saladin tithe - and the meticulous military preparations necessary before a credible force could sail from England. The death of Henry II in 1189 further complicated matters, for Richard had to attend to the succession, have himself crowned and settle England before he could depart. It is worth pointing out that the very same people who accuse Richard of being an absentee king of England also charge him with being dilatory in departing on crusade, yet in logic both charges cannot be sustained simultaneously. The transfer of power on Henry’s death effectively meant that Richard departed a full year after Frederick Barbarossa. Thereafter the gap between the two could only widen, as the Germans proceeded overland while Richard went by sea. And at sea he proceeded slowly, both because he suffered from seasickness and because he was travelling with large numbers of troops; above all he did not want his transports scattered by the winds because he was crowding on sail.
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But here the critics have another string to their bow. Granted that Richard was making a difficult sea voyage, why did he have to pause so long in Sicily and Cyprus? Were not his conquests of those islands clearly self-serving actions?
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Here one is tempted to taunt the critics with the same kind of ignorance of the realities of sea power that bedevilled Napoleon. Both Philip and Richard made attempts to clear from Sicily after the conquest of that kingdom but were driven back by storms and high seas; in the days of primitive sailing ships, no rational commander would take a large fleet across the Mediterranean in midwinter.
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But what about Cyprus? Was this not a self-serving enterprise, as flagrant a diversion from the main purpose as Drake’s diversion from Howard of Effingham’s fleet during the battle with the Spanish Armada in order to loot the
Rosario
? The critics further allege that the conquest of Cyprus was contrary to the Pope’s directives, a bad precedent and act of grotesque irresponsibility because it delayed Christian reinforcements and thus jeopardised operations at Acre.
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Here the critics seem to forget that it was Isaac Comnenus who started the fighting. And so far from excessive delay, Richard wound up his business on the island in just six days after completing military operations. Moreover, Richard’s conquest of Cyprus contained clear benefits for the Third Crusade. Richard sold the island shortly after his victory there, gained extra funds for the Crusade thereby, and later used Cyprus to placate and remove his troublesome ally King Guy of Jerusalem. Moreover, Cyprus turned out to be a vital forward supply post, a crucial logistical asset - as Saladin had already recognised by his negotiations with Byzantium, aimed at stopping the crusaders using it. Even some of Richard’s most vociferous critics concede his strategic insights in the matter of Cyprus.
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It may seem almost preposterous, after the brilliant victories at Acre, Ascalon, Darum, Jaffa and, above all, Arsuf, that Richard’s calibre once landed in the Holy Land should be questioned, but the critics allege that Richard was over-cautious, to the point where he can be suspected of having a secret agenda, possibly a plot with the Templars to invade Egypt instead of taking Jerusalem. After all, it is said, it is a matter of record that Richard did not besiege Jerusalem even though the Pope’s instructions expressly directed him to that target.
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But Richard did not advance to Jerusalem, as a lesser captain would have done, because his acute military mind never lost sight of supply and logistics. Richard was a great leader precisely in his restraint and absence of mindless glory-seeking. He anticipated the very greatest leaders like Ernest Shackleton by turning back when almost within sight of his goal, because he realised that the so-called final goal was actually a bridge too far. Critics of Richard’s careful, systematic approach to the campaign in Palestine would presumably apply the same thinking to the cautious buildup for OVERLORD in 1944 and argue that the Second Front should have been opened in 1943. Richard may have been a Patton in temperament and sensibility but he was an Eisenhower when it came to down-to-earth concern for practicalities and the art of the possible. He knew that lack of careful preparations and poor supply lines had doomed the Second Crusade and severely impeded the First (they were also to cause the failure of the Fifth and Sixth), and he was determined not to fall into that obvious trap. As for Jerusalem, Richard made it quite plain that there was no point in expending blood and treasure on a target which would have to be abandoned soon after capture, simply because there were not enough permanent settlers from Christendom to make its permanent occupation feasible. The Third Crusade, conceived purely as an expedition to reclaim Jerusalem for Christianity, was doomed to failure before a single crusader left Europe, precisely because the Western nations were not exporting large enough populations to make permanent retention of Outremer practicable. For all that, Richard’s heroic endeavours in effect prolonged the life of Christian Palestine for another hundred years. He cannot be blamed for failing to solve a problem that was beyond any single person’s capacity.

If we except the case of the prisoners at Acre, most of the charges in the indictment against Richard, whether on political, administrative or military grounds, fail to convince. Although he was not the greatest general in the medieval era - that title clearly belongs either to Tamerlane or Genghiz Khan’s great commander, Subudei - he was almost certainly the greatest Western Christendom produced. Furthermore, it is worth remembering that he managed to avoid the head-on collisions with the papacy and the all-England primates that soured the reigns of both Henry II and John. If there is an equivalent of Henry’s Becket or John’s Stephen Langton in Richard’s reign, the only possible candidate is Hugh of Lincoln. Twenty years Richard’s senior, the only Carthusian monk who became a bishop in England, and famous for his pet swan, Hugh was notable for taking a Becket-like stance whenever he thought Richard was violating the Church’s rights. In 1197 at the Council of Oxford Hugh (wrongly in the opinion of most experts on feudalism) refused to provide knights for overseas service at a critical juncture of Richard’s struggle with Philip Augustus, on the grounds that none of his predecessors had ever made such a concession and he could therefore not commit his church to such a damaging precedent; the bishop of Salisbury joined him in this protest.
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In response Richard ordered the confiscation of the estates of the see of Lincoln. Hugh decided that the only solution was to go to Normandy to confront the king. He found Richard in his chapel at Château-Gaillard, hearing High Mass on the feast of St Augustine, with the two bishops of Durham and Ely at his side. According to his biographer, Hugh was encouraged to boldness by hearing the choir chant the words ‘Hail, renowned bishop of Christ’ when he reached the chapel steps. Adam of Eynsham takes up the story: ‘When the bishop greeted the king he did not reply, but frowned at him and after a little while turned his face away. The bishop said to him “Lord king, kiss me.” But Richard turned his head even further and looked the other way. Then the bishop firmly gripped the king’s tunic round his chest and shook it violently, saying again, “You owe me a kiss because I have come a long way to see you.” The king answered: “You deserve no kiss from me.” Hugh shook him more vigorously by the cloak, and said boldly: “I have every right to one,” adding, “kiss me.” After a while Richard, overcome by his courage and determination, kissed him with a smile.’
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After Mass Hugh and Richard discussed the reasons for the king’s anger. Hugh claimed he had never failed in duty to the king, and Richard rather weakly claimed that Hubert Walter had poisoned his mind against him (Hugh). Reiterating his stance, Hugh said: ‘Except for the honour of God and the salvation of my soul and yours, I have never till now opposed anything trivial which was to your advantage.’ Thoroughly won over, Richard sent Hugh presents and gave him a fine pike for his dinner. Pressing his advantage, Hugh next day moved into territory which a more cautious man would certainly have avoided. Describing Richard as ‘his parishioner’ he insisted on preaching to him about his sins. Richard blandly replied that his conscience was clear in everything except his hatred for his enemies. Hugh put it to him that he was not making a full confession, since it was widely known that Richard was unfaithful to Berengaria with other women (in view of the homosexual canard, it is most significant that Hugh does not accuse him of the sin of sodomy), and that he promoted men to high positions, and especially bishoprics because they were his personal favourites or because they gave him money. Richard listened attentively and respectfully, without any signs of the expected Angevin rage at such ‘impertinence’. The two men parted on good terms. Richard remitted the fines and confiscations he had levied on Lincoln (those on Salisbury remained, as Hugh’s colleague there had not had the wisdom to travel to Normandy).
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When Hugh had left, Richard told his courtiers: ‘If the other bishops were like him, no king or ruler would dare to raise up his head against them.’
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However, shortly afterwards Richard decided that he could not after all exempt the Lincoln canons from military service and that they should serve abroad in the ‘diplomatic service’ at their own expense and his own pleasure. This was a particular blow to Hugh, as he had handpicked his canons for their intellectual, moral and administrative qualities and regarded them as the apple of his eye. There was nothing for it but another trip to Normandy to plead in person once more. Perhaps Hugh need not have bothered, for already men feared his curses as the malediction of a truly holy man. It was said that Richard contemplated sending his fearsome mercenary captain Mercadier to seize the assets of Lincoln this time but that his counsellors, doubtless abetted by Mercadier himself, who did not relish the assignment, argued him out of it.
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There is no way of telling whether the second encounter between monarch and saint would have ended so happily, for Hugh was still on his way through France to see Richard when he heard of the king’s death. In spite of the danger from travelling through countryside riven by bandits and anarchy, Hugh insisted on completing the journey to Fontevraud. It was thus that he assisted at the funeral instead, comforted Berengaria and later, at John’s insistence, was one of the witnesses of the treaty of Le Goulet. Hugh explained to his followers that any other course of action would have been ungrateful, since, whenever they were together, Richard had always shown him the utmost kindness and respect.
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If Richard ultimately passes all the tests except that posed by the prisoners at Acre, John by contrast fails almost all those that can be legitimately set. As a ruler he lost Normandy through incompetence, became involved in a quite unnecessary conflict with the Pope, which ended in abject surrender, taxed his subjects to the point where they rebelled, bringing on a two-year civil war, and ended by losing his Crown jewels in the Wash. As a tyrant he murdered the young Arthur, by all laws of succession the true heir to the throne, murdered William de Braose’s family, executed twenty-eight Welsh hostages, brutally dispatched an eccentric hermit and his son, and was frequently prevented from further atrocities by the advice of his counsellors and even, incredibly, by his bloodthirsty mercenary captains. In the light of all this, it is unbelievable that he has had such a good press from modern historians, some of whom seem determined to prove that black is white in their protestation that John was a decent monarch. Although John ducked every significant military encounter, especially pitched battles, and was a percentage player as commander where Richard had been inspirational, we are still told that he was a competent military planner and strategist.
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He is often praised for his inspired military vision when attempting to relieve Château-Gaillard in 1203, but surely the crucial point is that John’s grand conception turned out to be a disastrous failure. Military talent does not consist in merely having bright ideas on paper, but in being able to think through every last detail of the planning necessary to bring them to fruition. This was precisely the quality Richard had in abundance; the irony is that because he had it and therefore did not attempt quixotic schemes, he has been criticised for caution and conservatism. A little more caution and conservatism, as opposed to bipolar bouts of lethargy and extreme, goalless, energy would have done John a lot of good during the campaign for Normandy.