The following year was marked by disasters of quite another kind. A great earthquake, or rather a succession of earthquakes, passed through Palestine, and by its violence and the frequency of its attacks, for it returned again and again during a space of three or four months, filled all men’s hearts with fear; hundreds perished in the ruin of their houses; grief and consternation spread everywhere. Antioch, with nearly its whole population, was entirely destroyed, even its strong walls and towers being all thrown down; Laodicea, Emesa, Aleppo, and Hamath shared the fate of Antioch. Tripoli presented the appearance of a heap of stones, and Tyre, more fortunate than the rest, had yet some of its towers overthrown. Amid these disasters there was no thought of war, and for some months, at least, there was peace. But in December, news came that Saladin was invading Christian territory in the south. Amaury hastened to Ascalon, and called all his chivalry together. They assembled at Gaza, and he found that he could muster two hundred and fifty knights and two thousand foot. Saladin was besieging the fort of Daroum, which the king had himself built. But leaving Daroum, Saladin advanced to Gaza. The Christian army fought their way through to the citadel, and Saladin, after pillaging the city, retired with his forces. Probably his object was to accustom his men by small successes with overwhelming forces for the greater efforts he intended to make when the prestige of the Christians should have sunk lower, and the dread which the Saracens still felt for the strong-armed knights in steel should have wholly, or in great measure, passed away.
Early in the following year Amaury called a council of his barons to deliberate on the precarious state of the kingdom. Every day the number of the enemy increased, every day their own resources diminished. There was, of course, but one way to meet the dangers which menaced them, the only way which the kingdom had ever known, the arrival of aid from Europe. It was resolved to send ambassadors with the most urgent letters to all the powers, and to Constantinople a special ambassador begging for instant aid. Who was to go? The king, after a short parley with his advisers, declared that he would go himself. The barons cried out, on hearing this announcement, that they could not be deprived of their king, that the realm would fall to pieces without him—to all appearance seriously alarmed at the prospect of being left alone, or else every man hoping himself to be appointed as ambassador. But Amaury terminated the discussion in a manner characteristic of himself. “Let the Lord,” he said, “defend His own kingdom. As for me, I am going.” It is tolerably clear that the sovereign who could permit himself to have doubts on the subject of a future world, might well have doubts as to whether a kingdom, so harassed as his own, so devoured by greed, selfishness, and ambition, so corrupted by lust and licence, was really the kingdom of the Lord. If it was, of course the Lord would look after His own; if not, why then Amaury’s hands were well washed of the responsibility. He went to Constantinople, where he was received with every demonstration of friendship, and William of Tyre exhausts himself in describing the favour shown to him. One thing is noticeable, that the splendour of the Greek emperor rivalled that of the caliph. On the occasion of the first interview of Amaury with the emperor, there were suspended before the hall of audience curtains of precious stuff and rich embroidery, exactly like what we are told of the Caliph of Cairo, and as soon as the king arrived the curtains were withdrawn and the emperor disclosed sitting on a throne of gold, and dressed in the Imperial robes. Great fêtes were given to celebrate the arrival of Amaury and his train; all the sacred relics, including the wood of the Cross, the nails, the lance—was this the lance found by Peter at Antioch, or another?—the sponge, the reed, the crown of thorns, the sacred shroud and the sandals, were shown to the Latins; games and spectacles were invented for their amusement, including choruses of young girls and theatrical displays, in which, says the Archbishop of Tyre, careful lest the king’s example should be taken as a precedent among his own flock, the greatest propriety was observed; and at last, treaties having been signed and promises made, Amaury departed, laden with valuable presents of gold and other valuables. Alas! it was not gold that he wanted, but stout hearts and strong hands, and of these he brought back none but his own.