October 4th, 1181 - Jerusalem
The great hall of the royal palace in Jerusalem was filled with the measured tread of boots and the murmuring voices of men who bore the weight of nations on their shoulders. The morning sun streamed through narrow arched windows, glinting on polished helms and the gilded hilts of swords. Baldwin IV, King of Jerusalem and Syria, Duke of Palestine, Defender of the Holy Sepulchre, and Defender of the Holy City, sat upon the carved oaken throne that had borne the weight of kings since the city's liberation nearly a century earlier. His hands rested calmly on the arms of the throne, his gaze steady as he surveyed those summoned to his side.
At his right hand stood Queen Constance, robed in deep green silk embroidered with golden thread, a presence that seemed both regal and unyielding. At his left stood Amalric de Lusignan, the Marshal of the realm, a man whose broad shoulders, scarred face, and iron composure embodied the hardened edge of war.
Around them gathered the leading commanders and advisors of the kingdom: Sir Godfrey of Ibelin, Justiciar of the realm, stern and deliberate in his manner; Martin of Palermo, the Treasurer, his thin face betraying a mind ever calculating provisions and coin; the Prior of the Hospitallers in Jerusalem, Brother Gérard, who represented his Order; and the Templar commander, Brother Raymond, a man of piercing eyes who spoke sparingly but with authority. Other lords and captains filled the chamber, summoned for what was to be a reckoning of numbers and strength.
Baldwin's voice, measured yet firm, opened the council.
"Lords and brothers, we are gathered to take account of the arms and men now sworn to our banners. With Syria newly added to our crown, with the Orontes valley secured, with Antioch and Tripoli brought under the cross, the strength of Outremer has grown. But as strength grows, so too do burdens. Today we must reckon what can be called forth in war—and what we may spare for the Emperor Alexios in his struggle against the Turks."
A rustle of assent passed through the chamber, and Baldwin gestured for Amalric to speak.
The Marshal stepped forward, unrolling a parchment on the council table, its surface marked with careful tallies of knights and men-at-arms.
"My lords, by His Majesty's command, I have taken account of all levies, feudal knights, and mercenaries that may be drawn upon. With Jerusalem alone, counting the barons of Judea and the coastal cities, we may call upon some fifteen hundred knights. These are mounted men of noble blood, each with squires and retainers."
He tapped the parchment with a thick finger, moving down the columns.
"Antioch contributes perhaps nine hundred knights, not counting the boy Raymond's household, which shall in time add more. Tripoli, though smaller, yields some nine hundred also. And now, with Syria—Damascus, Aleppo, Homs, Hama, and the valleys between—our estimates, once the feudal tenures are properly ordered, may add between twenty-two hundred and twenty-five hundred mounted knights. Some are already pledged, others will take time to muster, for the old Saracen system of iqta must be replaced with fiefs sworn to the crown. Still, they will come."
A murmur spread among the men. Even the most seasoned lords had not heard such numbers before.
"By this reckoning," Amalric continued, "our mounted host—the flower of knighthood—stands between five and six thousand strong."
Baldwin inclined his head, his pale face betraying the faintest shadow of a smile. To hear such strength named aloud was to taste the fruits of years of struggle.
"And the foot?" he asked.
Amalric moved down the parchment once more.
"The infantry are greater still. From Jerusalem and its ports and villages, some ten thousand. Antioch brings eight thousand, accustomed to mountain warfare and hardy in defense. Tripoli yields two and a half thousand. But Syria… Syria is a great basin of men. Damascus alone can raise several thousand militiamen and levy-spearmen, Aleppo another host. With the surrounding towns and villages, we may draw between ten and fifteen thousand."
The Marshal let the numbers settle before speaking the sum:
"In all, my lords, thirty to forty thousand infantry may be brought to the banners—pikes, bows, crossbows, and spears."
The Treasurer Martin of Palermo interjected, his thin voice cutting through the silence.
"And the Military Orders?"
Brother Gérard of the Hospitallers stepped forward.
"Our Order in Outremer may field some two hundred knights and near a thousand sergeants."
Brother Raymond of the Templars followed.
"The Temple fields three hundred knights in the kingdom, and near fifteen hundred sergeants and turcopoles, all bound to fight without fear or delay."
A low exhalation spread through the chamber. Amalric rolled up the parchment and set it aside.
"Thus, if all banners are called, if all Orders and cities yield their levies, we may command an army of near forty thousand souls. Never has Outremer seen its like. Not since the First Crusade has such a host been possible in these lands."
Baldwin leaned forward, his eyes intent.
"Then it is true. We are now stronger than any single emirate, even Damascus in its former glory. Stronger even than Saladin's Egypt, when counted man for man."
The Justiciar, Godfrey of Ibelin, frowned.
"Strength on parchment, sire. But to gather such numbers, garrisons would be stripped bare, borders left exposed. Raids from Egypt, ambushes from Bedouin, or even a sudden strike from Saladin could devastate us. Such full musters are rare, for they leave a kingdom hollow."
"True," Baldwin said. "And that is why we speak not of raising all, but of sending a portion. The question before us: how many men may we afford to send to Anatolia, should Emperor Alexios accept our terms, without endangering our borders?"
The hall grew hushed. The question lay heavy.
Amalric spoke again.
"My king, my queen—Jerusalem cannot be left naked. Syria is newly taken, its loyalties untested. The north is firm with Antioch and Tripoli, but Saladin yet lives, and though wounded, he remains dangerous. I counsel that no more than five thousand men be sent. Of these, five hundred must be knights and the rest infantry—pikes to hold ground, and crossbowmen to pierce the Turks' armor."
Some frowned, muttering that such a force was too small to aid an emperor. Others whispered relief that the kingdom itself would not be emptied.
Sir Godfrey of Ibelin added his weight.
"With garrisons to hold our castles, with men kept for watch on the frontiers, five thousand is a strain, but it may be borne. More than that, and I fear we would invite calamity."
Baldwin looked to Constance, who listened in silence, her eyes thoughtful.
Then he rose. His voice rang through the chamber with clarity:
"So be it. Five thousand men. Five hundred knights, the rest infantry of pikes and crossbows. They will march under the banner of our Marshal, Amalric de Lusignan, and fight beside the Greeks in Anatolia. And in return, if God grants it, Cyprus shall be ours—taken from Isaac, who styles himself a prince, yet is but a pirate with a crown."
The words carried a weight that silenced all murmuring. For a moment none spoke, until Brother Raymond of the Temple bowed his head.
"It is a wise balance, sire. A sword given, yet the shield retained."
Baldwin nodded. His gaze swept across the assembled men, many of whom now leaned toward assent, persuaded by the logic of necessity.
"Then let us begin our preparations. Let the rolls of knights and levies be taken. Let the stores of grain and coin be measured. If the Emperor accepts, Outremer shall march, but not to its peril."
And with that, the council broke, the captains and lords departing with a new sense of purpose.