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1 The succession of cousins
Counts Raymond I (1103–5), William Jordan (1105–9) and Bertrand (1109–12)
Introduction
On 28 February 1105, Count Raymond IV of Saint-Gilles and Toulouse – one of the greatest magnates in the kingdom of France and a leading figure on the First Crusade (1095–9) – died in dramatic circumstances, crashing through a roof into a burning building. He had been using this elevated position to survey a battle fought outside the gates of Tripoli, which he had been besieging in earnest for approximately two years. Although he never lived to see Tripoli in Christian hands, he has nonetheless received much of the credit for establishing the county of Tripoli, the fourth and final of the ‘crusader states’ to emerge in the Levant during and after the First Crusade. Raymond was the first crusader to call himself ‘count of Tripoli’ and it is from him that his successors are numbered in modern convention. The old count was the progenitor of the so-called ‘Toulousan dynasty’, who ruled the county for some eight decades. In this chapter, Raymond’s career and legacy as they relate to Tripoli specifically are put into better perspective. An aspect of this task involves clarifying his contribution to the establishment of the county vis-à-vis the achievements of his successors. Another facet is to question what historians have traditionally assumed about the development of the Latin East in the earliest period of its history. Jean Richard believed that the county of Tripoli owed its very existence to Raymond’s ‘action personnelle’, but the reality was far more complex than a question of individual agency.1
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Diplomacy and religion
At the time of Raymond’s death the siege of Tripoli was proving to be long and arduous, in part due to a complex local political legacy. The city had been governed by a local Twelver Shīʿa Muslim dynasty, the Banū ʿAmmār, ever since c.1070 when this family of qāḍīs (Islamic religious judges) had achieved de facto autonomy from the Ismāʿīlī Fāṭimid caliphate based in Cairo. The Fāṭimids had lost their grip on much of Syria at this time due to a series of so-called ‘calamities’, not least the military ascendancy of the Saljūq Turks.2 Yet the Saljūqs’ own hold on Syria was inconsistent. True, their achievement had been impressive: building a vast empire from Central Asia to Asia Minor that incorporated Persia, the wealthiest part of the Islamic world at the time in terms of both actual finances and ancient cultural legacy. Saljūq rule was legitimised through a blend of ancestral nomadic steppe traditions, the Perso-Islamic court culture of Baghdad and the often reluctant, inconstant support offered by the ʿAbbāsid caliph, complete with his genealogical ties to the Arab tribes from which Islam had originated. On a practical level, provinces were established and local governors were empowered centrally to enable the administration of this vast realm. Despite this, the Saljūq empire nevertheless remained a fundamentally decentralised territory, where ostensible titles and hierarchies were less important than the office-holders’ personal relationships to the sultan and where government varied greatly from region to region.3 Köhler has argued that, in the absence of consistent central authority, a ‘constellation of powers’ came into being in Saljūq Syria, with governance and power effectively devolved to the level of city-states – Tripoli key among them.4
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The political fragmentation of Syria has long been regarded as a crucial factor in the astounding success of the First Crusade. Just as interesting as the straight military victories were the lengths local rulers were willing to go in terms of using diplomacy to save themselves from the crusaders. In Tripoli, Jalāl al-Mulk bin ʿAmmār (r. 464/1072–492/1099) was quick to make self-serving alliances of convenience with the crusaders as soon as they arrived in the region. A Latin priest, likely in Raymond of Saint-Gilles’s entourage, named Ebrard arrived in Tripoli on a diplomatic mission as early as 1097.5 In fact the crusaders had sent diplomatic missions to other Muslim powers as early as 1095–6 (AH 489).6 Although the outcome of Ebrard’s mission is unknown, Latin chronicles report that Jalāl al-Mulk sent numerous envoys to the crusader armies bearing gifts, seeking desperate peace treaties and even offering the crusaders their own public market within Tripoli itself. In so doing, the qāḍī clearly hoped to retain Tripoli itself, together with a handful of neighbouring towns including ʿArqa and Jubayl.7 The most obvious indication of Jalāl al-Mulk’s underlying motives came when he offered the crusaders an old Muslim man, whose job was to guide them through the difficult mountain roads to the south towards Jerusalem and away from Tripoli.8
Latin chroniclers who were present on the expedition seized upon Jalāl al-Mulk’s somewhat obsequious diplomacy with enthusiasm, exaggerating it for political and religious aims. Raymond of Saint-Gilles’s chaplain, Raymond of Aguilers, claimed that the qāḍī had specifically requested his lord’s standards and seals to demonstrate his submission to the count and to gain him some protection against the other crusaders. As Jalāl al-Mulk erected the Toulousan banner over his city and castles, Raymond wrote proudly that ‘from that time the count’s reputation was such that it seemed to surpass the reputations of all who went before’.9 The story should not be taken at face value, as it was likely crafted deliberately to combat a humiliating passage in the Gesta Francorum, in which the commander of the Muslim forces at Antioch had allegedly asked for a crusader banner in the desperate hope of receiving protection. Upon learning that he had been sent Raymond of Saint-Gilles’s, he returned it and requested Bohemond of Taranto’s standard instead.10
Perhaps the most incredible claim regarding Jalāl al-Mulk’s diplomacy was recorded in the Gesta Francorum and by Peter Tudebode. Purportedly this Twelver Shīʿite qāḍī and heir to the Fāṭimid governors of old had offered to receive baptism and convert to Christianity if ...