Valiant Warrior: Knight of the Third Crusade

By Calvin J. Boal

Valiant Warrior: Knight of the Third Crusade is an adventure book of a young man, Sir Richard Fowler, who leads his bow men from Buckinghamshire, England, on crusade to fight with the Knights Templar; King Richard the Lion Heart; and other crusader armies against the powerful Saladin and the Muslim army to recapture the Holy Lands and Jerusalem.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490881485

Calvin J. Boal

Calvin J. Boal has a keen interest in history. He is the author of the historical novels, Last Run of the Whisperer, St. George’s Cross and the Siege of Fort Pitt, and Valiant Warrior, Knight of the Third Crusade. Boal currently resides in Vestal, New York.

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Copyright © 2015 Calvin J. Boal.

Cover idea by Abigail Zulkosky

Fowler Crest image by Sean Byrd

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-8149-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-8150-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-8148-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015908067

WestBow Press rev. date: 06/08/2015

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1 Sir Richard Fowler

Chapter 2 The Siege

Chapter 3 The Battle of Hattin

Chapter 4 The Crusader Fleet Sails

Chapter 5 Conquest of Messina

Chapter 6 Conquest of Cyprus

Chapter 7 The Siege of Acre

Chapter 8 The Fall of Acre

Chapter 9 The Battle of Arsuf

Chapter 10 Fall and Winter

Chapter 11 The March on Jerusalem

Chapter 12 The Battle of Jaffa

Chapter 13 Return to England

Chapter 14 The Death of King Richard

Chapter 15 The Death of Sir Richard Fowler

Afterword

Bibliography

Dedicated to the Fowler Family

FowlerCrestimage1.jpg

Acknowledgments

S pecial thanks to Cindy Daley for her assistance and dedication with helping to ensure this book was completed to high standards. I appreciate your hard work and sacrifice for me and my endeavors.

Introduction

T hroughout history, there have been many crusades to the Holy Land. There were at least nine crusades listed by historians as Christian armies were sent to the Holy Land to wrest control of Jerusalem and the holy sites from the Muslims. These Christian armies were sent by the main powers of Europe of the time, England, France and the Holy Roman Empire, usually by papal edict. They were sent to defend Christendom and defeat the Muslims. These nine major crusades occurred between the years AD 1096 and AD 1271.

Before, during, and after the nine major crusades, there were a number of minor crusades, as described by historians. Other countries and empires of Europe were trying to stem the tide of Muslim influence within their regions or the Holy Land. Battles, or crusades, were fought against the Muslims, or even other Christian factions, or between Christian countries.

Before the First Crusade, there was the Reconquista, where Spain and Portugal fought to push the Moors out of the Iberian Peninsula. There was the Sardinian Crusade, where the Pisans fought the Moors to prevent the island from falling into Muslim control. There also was the Mahdia Crusade, where the Pisa and Genoa fleets attacked the north African city to defeat Muslim pirates that were harassing Christian trade and cities.

There were crusades to remove Christian religious sects that were viewed by the Catholic Church as a threat, or that had fallen out of political favor. As an example of this was the Cather’s in southern France. These twenty-five small or minor crusades occurred between the years AD 722 and AD 1683.

The expenditure in both blood and treasure by the European nations and Christian armies, as well as by the Muslim nations over nine and a half centuries of conflict, is incalculable and staggering. Vast armies were sent to war by both the Europeans and Muslims. At times, some of these armies were defeated, and virtually every man was killed or enslaved. Additionally, cities that were besieged and eventually captured saw their civilian populations outright killed or sent into slavery. A thousand years of battle resulted in vast amounts of treasure lost and untold numbers of soldiers and civilians being killed or enslaved. The land was awash with the blood of Christians and Muslims.

An archer, a knight of the realm, appears in history on my family tree, Sir Richard Fowler, of old England, as you can imagine, many generations ago. My research about him indicates that he went on crusade with King Richard the Lionheart during the Third Crusade.

Sir Richard Fowler, at his own expense, took a number of bowmen with him on crusade. During the siege of Acre, Sir Richard prevented an attempt by the Muslims to assassinate King Richard.

Thus, you have the makings of this book.

Two books have been written dating back to the seventh century regarding the Fowlers and related families.

The first of these two books was The History of the Fowlers, published in 1950, which chronicles the Fowler family back to the seventh century.

It details the family stating, Henry I, surnamed the Fowler, and is believed to have been born about the year AD 876. The Franks and Saxons chose him king in 919 on the advice of King Conrad I. He died in 936. Henry the Fowler united the Franks and Saxons into what is now modern Germany. Some of his descendants were such renowned fighters that the king of France offered them Normandy to live in if they would fight his battles.

Later, some of these Fowler descendants fought with William the Conqueror to gain the throne of England. The Fowlers in England, accompanied by numerous bands of retainers and followers, went to England about a hundred years before the destruction of the Heptarch. This resulted in the union of the kingdoms of England into one under Egbert.

The Fowlers settled in Sussex and, according to an old chronicle, the Fowler family had a representative member from the eighth century until the present time of writing. Documented in the book The History of the Fowlers are the names of a number of individuals whom you would undoubtedly recognize as historically significant. During their time, these individuals helped shape the face of many countries.

The second book of note is A Memoir of the Forebears and Descendants of Henry L. Fowler and Emma L. Minkler, published in 1987.

This book documents that Sir Richard Fowler traveled during the Third Crusade with King Richard the Lionheart to the Holy Land.

The Fowler family was of great antiquity before the reign of King Richard I. In that warlike prince’s expedition to the Holy Land, Richard Fowler of Foxley, in the county of Bucks, served as a commanding officer in one of the holy crusades, circa 1190. Richard Fowler maintained at his own expense a certain number of British bowmen, all his own tenants, to serve likewise in the crusade. At the siege of Ptolemais, also called Acon, or Acre, the Muslims attempted to surprise the Christian camp with a night attack. Richard Fowler, through his extraordinary care and vigilance, happily prevented the attack. King Richard, his royal master knighted him in the field in honor of such eminent service. His crest, which, at the time was the hand and lure, was changed to the vigilant owl by King Richard. A second account of the attempted assassination of King Richard related that an owl disturbed Richard Fowler in the night. Investigating, he found a sentry had been silently slain near the tent of the king. Richard Fowler aroused the camp in time to save the life of the king and to meet the surprise attack of the enemy.

SAPIENS QUI VIGIL AT, translated, He is wise who watches!

CHAPTER 1

Sir Richard Fowler

AD 1225

Buckinghamshire Castle

S ir Richard Fowler, knight of the Third Crusade, lay dying in the upper chamber of his castle in Buckinghamshire, England. It was mid-July and unusually warm for the British Isles. Since the injury that felled Sir Richard, a dark sadness unseen in a generation hung over Buckingham and the entire shire.

The event seemed simple enough. Sir Richard had jumped the small stream on his steed a hundred times. This was no different, and yet for some unforeseen reason, the horse stumbled as it landed on the far side of the creek. So familiar with the jump and so unsuspecting was the lurch of his mount that Sir Richard was thrown from his saddle and both rider and horse crashed to the earth. All who ride know all too well that such events are inevitable, and most throws from the saddle result in bumps and bruises, or perhaps the occasional broken bone. But this was different.

The misstep by the horse caused it to crash to the earth, resulting in the animal breaking its right front leg. In the end, this would require the destruction of the animal. Sir Richard was considered one of the most experienced riders of all Buckinghamshire. He would have received only minor injuries from the fall. However, he was pinned by the horse against a rather large oak tree that was near the stream. The animal, writhing in pain from the broken leg, struggled to regain its footing. In its struggle, the twelve-hundred pound beast caused Sir Richard to be crushed against the tree. He sustained several broken ribs on his left side, which caused grievous injury to his lung. One of the broken ribs nearly stabbed his heart.

Sir Richard lay against the base of the tree trying to regain his breath. With each breath, excruciating pain enveloped his chest. He found he was only able to take short gasps of air into his one functioning lung. A trickle of blood ran out of his mouth and down the side of his cheek.

Sir Richard, Lord of Buckinghamshire, land baron, tenant of property and farms for miles in all directions, was well respected as a just and honorable man. He had treated those under him, those who served him, and those he oversaw with dignity and respect. His lands had flourished so that he was one of the wealthiest lords of the realm.

As Sir Richard realized that his injuries from his fall were serious, he tried to relax and slow his breathing to minimize his pain. He could hear his mount a short distance behind him struggling with its broken leg. It tried to maintain its balance on three legs as it snorted and whinnied in pain and suffering.

After what seemed to be an exceedingly long time in which Sir Richard had slipped in and out of consciousness, he began to hear voices in the distance. To his good fortune, two of his tenants were working in a not too distant field. Upon first hearing and then seeing the horse in some distress, they stopped their work to investigate. The men approached the horse as it continued to hobble about on three legs, snorting and in obvious distress.

What’s this? questioned the first man.

It appears to be the master’s horse, replied the other.

Look here, Peter, the first man stated with earnest as he grabbed the horse’s reins. It pulled away in great distress. The leg’s clean broke!

Aye, the master must be injured here about, Barrett, Peter answered as he began to look about.

Hearing bits of this conversation, Sir Richard, weakened from his injuries, tried to speak. He could only get out a mumbled grunt as he raised his right arm trying to signal his workers.

Peter, tying the reins of the horse to a tree branch, began to search with Barrett toward the creek for their master, whom they believed to be nearby and injured. The horse had left a clear indication of its short path from the creek bed. Slowly making their way in that direction, Peter and Barrett soon found their master lying at the base of the tree, badly injured.

Sir Richard! Peter exclaimed as he gently cradled his master’s head. What unfortunate mishap has befallen you?

Barrett quickly kneeled next to his master, holding his hand. Both men waited for Sir Richard to respond to Peter’s inquiry.

Strewn about the ground were Sir Richard’s arrows and his much coveted yew longbow that had served him so well for many years.

Never mind about what has happened now, Sir Richard faintly whispered. Peter, send Barrett to the castle for help. You wait here with me to give aid and comfort.

Aye, master, Peter replied. Barrett, be off with you and quickly now to the castle and return with Sir Richard’s sons and Master Cobbin!

Barrett was off in a flash running toward the castle over a mile away. Peter looked up and called after him, And bring a wagon; we’ll need a wagon! Peter didn’t know if Barrett had heard him or not, as he had started off at such a quick gait that he was almost out of earshot in a few fleeting moments.

Peter remained next to his fallen master and cradled his head gently between his knees as he wiped the trickle of blood from the side of Sir Richard’s mouth. Nothing was said between the two men for the longest time. Peter thought Sir Richard to be unconscious from his pain due to the lack of movement and words from his master.

Peter was anxious for the arrival of help from the castle and sensed that it was taking longer than expected for such help to arrive. Surely Barrett had run straight away to the castle, but the much needed help should be there by now.

Suddenly, Peter could hear the thundering of horses racing across the nearby meadow to where Sir Richard lay injured. Sir Richard’s sons, Richard II and William, jumped off of their mounts before they came to a stop and ran to their father’s side. They were quickly followed by several of Sir Richard’s men who also came to the aid of their fallen master.

Father! Richard shouted as he reached his stricken father’s side. His brother, William, who was some five years his younger was beside him, his brow deeply furrowed with signs of worry. As he looked upon his father, the trickle of blood appeared again at the corner of his mouth. How badly are you injured? Richard softly inquired of his father as those now gathered looked on.

Sir Richard never opened his eyes as he spoke, lying as peacefully as he could. He knew in his heart that his injuries were grievous.

I am sorely injured boys, Sir Richard replied softly to his son’s inquiry. The horse stumbled, and threw me off, then came crashing down upon me and pinned me against this tree as he flailed about trying to regain his footing. I can’t breathe. I fear my ribs are broken and have damaged me on my insides, Sir Richard explained as he paused to gather what breath he could and his thoughts. Is Cobbin with you? Sir Richard inquired faintly.

John Cobbin was Sir Richard’s oldest and most trusted friend. They had grown up together as boys in Buckinghamshire. As young men, they, along with Richard the Coeur de Lion, accompanied the combined armies of the Third Crusade to the Holy Land to reclaim the Holy City of Jerusalem. Upon their return from the Holy Land, Cobbin had remained loyal to his friend. He became the overseer of the lands and estate of Sir Richard’s vast holdings that surrounded the castle at Buckinghamshire. So close was their relationship that Sir Richard referred to his friend as Cobbin. Only when they were in the company of Sir Richard’s workers and tenants did John Cobbin refer to his master as Sir Richard. When alone, Cobbin referred to his friend as Richard, and they addressed and treated each other as equals.

Upon hearing his name come from the lips of his master, John Cobbin stepped forward and strongly stated, I am here, Sir Richard, at your side, as always.

He had been waiting patiently as Sir Richard’s sons came to his aid. Barrett, who had been sent to the castle by Peter to get help, returned to the site of the injured master with a much needed wagon. Several other hands of Sir Richard were riding on the wagon. The arrival of the wagon was none too soon, as Sir Richard was showing signs of great discomfort and blood continued to trickle from his mouth.

A blanket was secured from the back of the wagon. Sir Richard was slowly rolled onto his right side. He moaned in deep pain and discomfort, but his removal to the castle had to be done. The blanket was laid out under Sir Richard, and he was gently rolled back onto it.

Cobbin, Sir Richards’s sons, and the workers who came to Sir Richard’s aid stood at the corners and sides of the blanket so they could lift it as a makeshift litter. Cobbin was clearly in charge, as he knew what needed to be done.

Peter, you and Barrett place yourselves on the back of the wagon. When we get there with the blanket, grab on and slowly pull Sir Richard on to the wagon, Cobbin directed. Then, looking around at the faces of the men holding the blanket, Cobbin stated, Gently as you can, heave.

The men lifted in unison as the blanket holding Sir Richard rose off the ground. Sir Richard moaned deeply once again, but otherwise didn’t move. Half walking, half shuffling, the men slowly made their way to the back of the wagon, stopping several times as a couple of the men lost their footing and stumbled. On the wagon, Peter and Barrett grabbed the edge of the blanket and slowly pulled it and Sir Richard on to the bed of the wagon as the others supported the body of their injured master. Sir Richard’s longbow and arrows were recovered by Cobbin and carried by him back to the castle.

The ride in the wagon was over a mile long and was painful and slow for Sir Richard. There was no easy path or road to follow to the castle. Over meadow and hill, slowly the wagon made its way supported by several of the men. Sir Richard’s sons walked along side as Cobbin, on his mount, rode next to the wagon. Every rut and uneven mound encountered jostled the wagon, causing Sir Richard to moan painfully.

Cobbin had sent Peter on ahead to Buckingham to retrieve the doctor, a man of Sir Richard’s own age, by the name of Wilshire. Doctor Wilshire was of antiquity in Buckinghamshire, knowing everyone in town and the surrounding country. Cobbin hoped that Peter would have the good doctor at the castle by the time of Sir Richard’s arrival.

After what seemed to be an agonizing amount of time, the gate and portcullis of the castle came into view of the slow moving wagon. The rescuers and wagon were still a distance from entering the castle, but they could see great activity as the arrival of the injured Sir Richard had caused much commotion among the workers and staff.

As the horses began to cross the wooden drawbridge and the cobblestones of the inner courtyard of the castle, the sound of their hooves seemed unusually loud. All within the castle became eerily quiet as the soldiers guarding the gate, manning the towers, and on the walls all looked on. The workers and staff stopped what they were doing as they watched the wagon slowly make its way into the castle. Never before had there been such a complete silence within the walls of Sir Richard’s castle.

Barrett pulled the wagon up to the doors leading to the great hall. From there, Sir Richard could be taken up to his bedchamber, three floors up. The men gathered at the back of the wagon, and