THE LIFE OF SALADIN AND THE FALL OF THE KINGDOM OF JERUSALEM

CHAPTER XII.

  DAMASCUS.

1183-1186.

SALADIN stayed two months at Aleppo, ordering the government, awarding offices and fiefs, and regulating the various dependent cities and forts. On the 14th of August, 1183, he left for Damascus, which was to be his capital and head-quarters for the rest of his life. Much had happened during his long absence in the north. His brave viceroy Ferrukh Shah was dead, and the Franks had grown bolder. They had ravaged Busra and Zora and all the country, even to Darayya, a few miles from Damascus, destroying the crops and orchards, and laying everything waste. They had recovered the rocky fastness in the “Suhite” of which the Saracens had been so proud. Reginald of Châtillon had even conceived the daring project to invade Arabia, destroy the tomb of “the accursed camel-driver”  at Medina, and raze to the ground the holy Caaba at Mecca. He transported his ships in sections from Karak to the gulf of Akaba, and sending the fleet to sack the port of Aydhab on the African shore of the Red Sea, with two vessels he blockaded Elat. The Egyptian fleet was soon in hot pursuit, and Admiral Lulu, after easily relieving the blockade of Elat, came up with the main body of the expedition near al-Haura, a small port on the Red Sea, whence they intended to march on Medina. The sight of the Egyptian squadron drove them hurriedly on shore, and they made for the mountains. Lulu mounted his sailors on the horses of the Bedouins (=Bedawis), and catching the enemy in the Rabugh gorge cut them to pieces. Reginald escaped, but most of his men were killed; no quarter was given, except to a few prisoners who were sent to Mecca, to be slaughtered like goats in the valley of Mina at the annual sacrifice of the Pilgrimage. Thus should they expiate their intended sacrilege.

The Spanish Arab, Ibn-Jubeyr, was at Alexandria in May, 1183, when some of the prisoners taken from Reginald of Châtillon’s expedition were brought in, lashed on camels, their faces to the tails, amid the beating of drums and the shouts of the populace. Never, he says, had there been such consternation as when the news of the raid reached Egypt. People told each other, trembling, how the accursed lord of Karak had bribed the Bedouins to carry his ships across the desert to the Red Sea; how he had burnt sixteen Arab vessels, seized a pilgrim-ship off Jedda, landed at Aydhab and captured a caravan that had journeyed from Kos on the Nile, every soul of which was massacred; and how, after making prizes of two ships from the Yemen, laden with stores for the holy cities, he had crossed over to Arabia with the fell design of sacking Medina and dragging the blessed Prophet out of his grave! Never was such appalling news! Allah be praised, Lulu, the captain of the fleet, caught the miscreants with his swift vessels, manned by Moors from the Maghreb, and the catastrophe was averted.

1183. Engagement at La Fève.

Saladin's first object on his return to Syria was to punish the Franks for their temerity. He recalled the troops whom he had allowed to go home during his rest at Aleppo, and marching south by the desert route past al-Fawar, crossed the Jordan on the 29th of September, ravaged the fertile Ghaur, and finding Beysan deserted by its terrified inhabitants, sacked and burnt it. Advancing up the valley of Jezreel, he camped by the Well of Goliath (Ayn Jalud) at the foot of Gilboa. Hence his scouts, veterans from Nur-al-Din's armies, ravaged the country round, as far as Tabor and the hills above Nazareth, captured Forbelet, and encountering a body of Franks marching from Karak to join the main army at the Springs of Saffuriya, defeated them (30 September) with the loss of only one man. On this Guy of Lusignan, who commanded during the illness of King Baldwin, immediately broke up camp, crossed the hills of Nazareth into the plain of Esdraelon, and advanced to “the castle of the Bean”, al-Fula, (which the Franks called Faba and La Fève,) where Saladin gave battle.

“Never, so old men said, had Palestine seen so vast an array of Crusaders; there were one thousand three hundred knights, and over fifteen thousand well-armed foot; among them were great nobles from Europe: Henry, Duke of Louvain, and Ralf de Maleine from Aquitaine, together with the lords of the land, Guy de Lusignan, Reginald de Châtillon, Baldwin and Balian of Ibelin, Reginald of Sidon, Walter of Caesarea, and Joscelin de Courtenay”.

Nevertheless the battle was indecisive. It was a hand-to-hand fight, where “eye looked into eye”. Saladin’s vanguard of five hundred horse did much execution, but could not penetrate the serried ranks of the enemy’s spears; and eventually both armies encamped opposite each other, at Tubania and Goliath’s Well, scarcely a mile apart. Here an extraordinary delay occurred. For five days the Christian army lay motionless, whilst their leaders were wrangling amongst themselves, united only in one purpose, to defy the authority of Lusignan. Meanwhile Saladin had occupied the heights, and the Crusaders found themselves hemmed in and cut off from supplies. Their ranks were swelled by crowds of Italian merchants, Pisans, Lombards, Venetians, and Genoese, who had left their ships and hurried to join the army of the Cross, without taking thought for food, and unaccustomed to bear arms or endure privation. These were the first to feel the pressure of fatigue and want, and as no supplies could penetrate the close ring of the watchful Saracens, a grievous famine fell upon the camp. It was mid October, too, and the rainy season would soon be at hand. Saladin seems to have tried every device to bring them to the fighting point, but in vain: they contrived at last to escape, pursued by his arrows, and retreated in shame to Saffuriya,

1183-4. Two Sieges of Karak

In the same month of October the Sultan left Damascus to settle his score with Reginald of Châtillon at Karak; but all attempts to capture that crafty freelance or to gain an entrance into his fortress failed, though an Egyptian army under al-Adil co-operated in the siege. Their seven mangonels played in vain upon the stout walls, and when it was known that the royal forces were marching to its relief, Saladin drew off his army (4 December) and fuming at the repulse led it back to Damascus.

In the following summer (13 August, 1184) he made another effort to reduce the fortress, for there could be no peace so long as Reginald of Châtillon held it; but the siege—the fifth that Saladin had begun—ended like all the rest. At first, indeed, it seemed as if success were about to crown the perseverance of the Saracens. The town was in no mood for battle: it was full of dancers and musicians, making merry for the wedding of the King’s half-sister Isabella with the fourth Humphrey of Toron. The wedding feasts were like to be turned into funeral rites. Saladin and his mamelukes forced their way into the town, and Reginald retreated over the fosse into the castle. Even so he hardly escaped, and but for the valor of a solitary knight, who held the bridge like Horatius of old, whilst the garrison sawed it behind him, the fort must have fallen to the Saracens. In curious illustration of the chivalrous manners of the time, Reginald sent Saladin meat and wine,—as it were a piece of the bridecake,—to share in the feast; and in return the Sultan gave strict orders, proclaimed to the army, that the nuptial tower of the bride and bridegroom should be scrupulously respected by his archers and artillery.

Saladin found himself in possession of the town and suburb, and master of every sort of festal luxury and wedding cakes; but he was as far as ever from taking the castle. He began indeed to fill up the fosse and to set up his engines; and his faithful ally, Nur-al-Din of Keyfa, showed himself brilliantly in combats with the garrison. Nine mangonels bombarded the gate and burst it open, but the enemy held the breach. The fosse was so far filled that a prisoner was able to jump from the ramparts and escape. But it was labor thrown away: the rock defied assault. Meanwhile couriers had carried the news to Baldwin, and in September a relieving force stationed at al-Wala, without risking a pitched battle, supplied the castle with food and tired out the besiegers. Saladin abhorred a waiting game, and failing to draw the Christians from their entrenchments, soon decamped from his positions at Heshbon and Main, and went off to lay waste Samaria, pillage and burn Nablus (Shechem) with its famous olive groves and melons, and thence returned to Damascus on the 16th of September, 1184.

1184.Truce with the Franks.

After this there was peace between Saracen and Christian for a time. King Baldwin’s misery came to an end in the winter of 1184-5. The crown was now on the head of a child, and Guy of Lusignan and Raymond of Tripolis, the Regent of the infant Baldwin V, headed rival factions. It was no time for a Holy War, said the old Crusading houses; better to make a truce and at least wait till a favorable occasion. So thought the Prince of Antioch, the Counts of Tripolis and Sidon, and the brave brothers of Ibelin. So did not think the two great fighting Orders of the Temple and the Hospital; nor new-comers like Guy of Lusignan, though his only campaign had been a ridiculous farce; much less Reginald of Châtillon, who still felt, at his strong-hold of Karak, the iron of his unforgotten chains eating into his soul, and thirsted unquenchably for revenge. For the present the prudent policy prevailed, and at the Regent's motion a treaty was concluded with Saladin for four years. With Raymond himself it was more than a truce; it was an offensive and defensive alliance. Saladin was to support him in his designs on the crown, and Raymond in return set free all the Saracens he held captive in Tripolis, and even supplied Damascus liberally with food during the dearth of 1185. Nevertheless, whatever the amity of Saladin and Raymond, the truce was like the troubled sleep of a soldier, which might be broken in an instant by the call to arms. It was no real peace whilst the Patriarch Heraclius scoured Europe to beat up recruits, whilst English knights from the Cheviots to the Pyrenees took the Cross, whilst the two great Military Orders were burning to strike a blow for the faith. The Holy War was sleeping, but it was sure to awake.

1184] Damascus.

Saladin, meanwhile, made the most of his leisure to set the affairs of his realm in order. Once more Damascus had become the seat of sovereignty. Saladin used to say that Syria was the Root and Basis of Empire: Julian had called Damascus the Eye of the East. Before the beginning of history Damascus was a city. From the time when Abram took his servant Eliezar from among its citizens the ancient Syrian capital has been renowned. In the days of Ezekiel its commerce was famous, and to the port of Tyre it was written : “Damascus was thy merchant in the multitude of the wares of thy making, for the multitude of all riches”. In all the ancient empires of the East, Damascus has played its part, as the natural metropolis of its region, the meeting place of the people. Through its busy markets passed the trade of Babylonia and Persia and furthest India, borne from immemorial days by endless caravans, journeying from the Euphrates by Palmyra or Aleppo, and carrying their precious bales onward to the Mediterranean ports, or turning south to Egypt and Arabia. To Damascus came the wandering nation of the Bedouins in their countless tribes, who grazed their flocks in spring and winter on the light fodder of the desert, roaming every year between Arabia and the Great River along the familiar chains of wells ; a race of cattle-dealers and camel-drivers, carriers of other men's wealth and sellers of their own pastoral produce in exchange for the goods of the merchants.

Rich and populous, Damascus owed all to its central situation and its natural advantages. The Greeks called it “Most Beauteous”, and the Arabs named it “The Bride of the Earth”, “The Garden of the World”. And looking down upon the ancient city from the Dome of Victory which crowns the near range of Antilibanus on the west, one understands the pride of the Damascene in his earthly Paradise. The famed level plain, the Ghuta, richly fertile, though it forms part of the high Syrian plateau rising two thousand feet above the sea, gains in beauty by contrast with the brown desert and the girdling rocky hills, through which the Barada, well- named “Gold-streaming”  by the Greeks, forces its path, and spreading in seven streams over the plain gives it abundant life. A great green field stretches for miles from the mountains to the desert, and in its midst, in an emerald girdle of gardens and orchards, of orange and citron and jessamine, in a babel of gurgling brooks, rise the old Roman walls of the city, the yellow sea of its clay houses, a forest of minarets, and the great dome of the Omayyad Mosque, once the Church of St. John the Baptist, and before that, perhaps, the House of Rimmon. “Though old as history itself, thou art fresh as the breath of Spring, blooming as thine own rosebud, fragrant as thine own orange flower, O Damascus, Pearl of the East!”

Every age of its varied history has left its vestiges in Damascus:—Roman gates of polished red sand-stone, and doors plated with heavy iron; ancient walls fifteen feet thick and twenty high, built upon still older foundations of cyclopean masonry; square bastion towers, whence medieval archers drove back many a storming party by their flanking fire. The Via Recta, “the street which is called Straight”, still leads from the east gate, as it did in the time when St. Paul was yet Saul of Tarsus; and on a wall of the Arab Mosque the pilgrim to the tomb of Saladin may still read the inscription which overhung the lintel of the older Church, and which thirteen centuries of Moslem rule have not erased:

“Thy kingdom, O Christ, is an everlasting kingdom, and thy dominion endureth throughout all generations”

The city in Saladin’s time must have shown much the same mixture of colors and races as now. The dress and customs of the Moslems change very slowly, and the same peoples, clad in the same way for many centuries, must have thronged its bazaars, and dwelt in the exquisitely carved and painted rooms round the shaded courts of the houses. Then, as now, the city was divided into numerous walled quarters, closed at night by heavy gates, and occupied originally by members of a separate clan. Then, as now, the clear water of the Golden Stream flowed through a network of carefully planned channels, and was brought to every street and even to the poorest houses. But invasion and fire, Tatar vandalism and Ottoman neglect, have dimmed the splendor of the mosques and palaces; and now even the noble Omayyad Mosque, where the great Caliphs of the seventh century preached as leaders of the faithful, where Moawiya held up before the trembling congregation the bloody shirt of the murdered Othman, and pinned Naila’s severed fingers to the pulpit,— the mosque where Saladin worshipped the God of Battles, has been seared and ruined by a consuming fire. Its mosaics were the triumph of artists from Persia, India, and Byzantium, and exhausted the revenues of Syria for seven years, besides eighteen shiploads of gold and silver from Cyprus.

The Spanish Arab, Ibn-Jubeyr, who visited Damascus in 1184, when Saladin was living there, has left us a minute description of the wonders of this marvelous mosque, not least among which was the clock in which brazen falcons struck the hours, and a brass door shut for each hour past, whilst at night red lamps marked the time, measured by subsiding water. He mentions twenty colleges, two free hospitals, and many monasteries.

“Damascus”, he adds, “possesses a castle, where the Sultan lives, and it stands isolated in the modern quarter of the city, and in it is the Sultan's mosque. Near the castle, outside the town towards the west, are two Meydans that are like pieces of silk brocade rolled out, for their greenness and beauty. The river flows between the two Meydans, and there is a grove of poplar-trees extending beside them, most beautiful to behold. The Sultan is wont to go out there to play the game of Mall and to race his horses; and nothing can be pleasanter to see than this. Every evening the Sultan's sons go out there to shoot the bow, and to race, and to play Mall”.

The Spanish traveler gives us but a glimpse of the great Sultan, playing polo on the silky lawn of the Meydan, nor do Saladin's biographers and chroniclers tell us much more. We hear indeed of evenings spent in literary discussions, of Saladin's intimacy with the old warrior-poet Osama, of recitations of poetry, and of frequent games at chess, to which the Sultan was passionately devoted. But the echoes of these voices are faint indeed. To gain a picture of a Moslem ruler's life and occupations in Crusading times we must turn to the historian of the Mameluke Sultans, and see how Beybars, Sultan of Syria and Egypt, kept his state in the thirteenth century. He was a mameluke of Saladin's family, and he modeled his court upon the example set by his great predecessor.

1184. The Sultan's Duties.

The Sultan of those days enjoyed no sinecure; he was as hard a worker as his meanest subject. He sat in the Hall of Justice two days in the week to hear the complaints and right the wrongs of his subjects. His correspondence was immense, and though Saladin had indefatigable chancellors and secretaries in the Kady al-Fadil, Imad-al-Din, and latterly Baha-al-Din, he must have taken a large personal share in the dispatches. In Beybars' time there was “a well-organized system of posts, connecting every part of his wide dominions with the capital. Relays of horses were in readiness at each post-house, and twice a week the Sultan received and answered reports from all parts of the realm. Besides the ordinary mail, there was also a pigeon post, which was no less carefully managed. The pigeons were kept in cots at the various stages, and the bird was trained to stop at the first post-cot, where its letter would be attached to another pigeon for the next stage."

Fortunately we know something of Saladin’s chief secretaries who managed his vast correspondence. What al-Jawad was to the warlike Zengy, the learned judge, Kady al-Fadil, was to the wider imperial administration of Saladin. Al-Fadil was not a Turk or a Persian, like so many of the statesmen of that time, but a pure Lakhmy Arab, born at Ascalon, a member of a family of judges. His colleague in the Council, Aluh, extols his exquisite style — then considered a prime qualification in a Secretary of State — in his own inflated manner:

“Sovereign of the pen and lucidity, of eloquence and of style, his genius was resplendent, his sagacity profound, and his diction as novel as it was fascinating ... He was like Mohammed's law, which annulled all others and became the root of all knowledge. His thought was original, his ideas were new; he showered forth brilliance, and put forth the fairest flowers. He it was who led the empire by his counsels, and threaded discourse with the pearls of style”, and so forth.

In spite of fine writing, and much curious euphuism, the Qady was an admirable public servant, and Saladin frequently left him in supreme charge of the government in Egypt whilst himself absent on campaigns in Syria. Egypt, indeed, was his adopted country; there Saladin found him in the chancery office; and he was never happy away from his beloved Nile. “Bear me a message to the Nile”, he cries in one of his poems, written during a campaign in Mesopotamia; “tell it that Euphrates can never quench my thirst!”.

Another learned man, whose advice, it is said, Saladin never rejected, was al-Hakkary, the Arab jurist, who treated his master with an unceremonious familiarity which none other dared to use. His quaint figure, with the lawyer's turban surmounting a soldier's uniform, was seldom absent from the Sultan's councils. But Saladin's right-hand man in Syria, the counterpart of the Qady al-Fadil in Egypt, was the Secretary of State Imad-al-Din of Ispahan, commonly called Aluh (“Eagle”), — a poet, a master of style, a doctor learned in the law and deep in the mysteries of astrology, and a formidable gladiator in theological polemics. From being merely a professor at the college at Damascus to which he gave his name, “The Imadiya”, he became President of the Council of State and Chancellor of the Syrian kingdom. His admirable skill in conducting diplomatic correspondence in Persian and Arabic, in the turgid and inflated style admired by Orientals, added to his learning and sagacity, made him invaluable to the Sultan who finally gave him his entire confidence.

1184. State Ceremonies.

Besides necessary business, state ceremonies formed a heavy burden upon the Sultan. The medieval Muslim court was minutely organized, and the selection of officers to fill the numerous household posts, the allaying of their jealousies and quarrels, the rewarding of their services with robes of honor, titles, and fiefs, cost time and thought. Everybody, from the Commander-in-Chief to the Cupbearer, Taster, and Polo-master, wanted something, or envied someone else, and must be attended to, however summarily, in the interests of general good humor and loyalty.

Reviews of troops and state progresses were matters which involved much ceremony. The Sultan himself (at the time of Beybars at least) rode in the midst of the procession, dressed in a plain black silk tunic with large sleeves, a turban over his steel cap, a hauberk under his tunic, and a long Arab sword at his side. In front some great noble displayed the royal saddle-cloth, covered with precious stones and gold brocade; and the Sultan's head was shaded by the state parasol of yellow silk with gold embroidery, crowned with a golden eagle, and carried by a prince of the blood, whilst another noble bore the imperial standard. The royal horse was housed in yellow silk and red atlas satin, and the regimental colors of the escort were also of yellow Cairo silk, embroidered with their colonel's badge.

“Just before the Sultan rode two pages on white horses, with rich trappings; their robes were of yellow silk with borders of gold brocade, and a kuffiya or kerchief of the same. It was their duty to see that the road was sound. A flute-player went before, and a singer followed after, chanting the heroic deeds of former kings, to the accompaniment of a drum; poets sang verses antiphonally, accompanying themselves with the kemenga and mosil. Tabardars carried halberds before and behind the Sultan, and the state-poniards were supported by the polo-master in a scabbard on the left, while another dagger with a buckler was carried on the monarch's right. Close beside him rode the macebearer, who carried the golden mace aloft, and never withdrew his eyes from the countenance of his master. The great officers of the court followed with hardly less pomp.

"When a halt was called for the night, on long journeys, torches were borne before the Sultan, and as he approached the tent, which had gone on in front and been pitched before his arrival, his servants came to meet him with wax candles in stands inlaid with gold; pages and halberdiers surrounded him, the soldiers sang a chorus, and all dismounted except the Sultan, who rode into the vestibule of the tent, where he left his horse, and then entered the great round pavilion behind it. Out of this opened a little wooden bedroom, warmer than the tent, and a bath with heating materials was at hand. The whole was surrounded by a stockade, and the mamelukes mounted guard in regular watches, inspected periodically by visiting rounds, with Grand Rounds twice in the night”.

1184. Embassy of Baha-al-Din

We do not know how much of this state ceremonial was observed by Saladin, but, however simple his own tastes might be, no Oriental sovereign could afford to neglect those outward trappings which have always produced a vivid impression of power upon the popular imagination, especially in the East where symbolism is peculiarly studied. Saladin, though he dressed very simply in linen or wool, doubtless maintained all the usual state of a Mohammedan King, and would be careful to display the full court ceremonies when receiving embassies from foreign princes. It was on such an occasion that he first met Baha-al-Din, who afterwards became his secretary and biographer. Baha-al-Din was a resident at Mosul when Saladin invaded Mesopotamia, and had been employed by the Atabeg to carry an appeal for help to the Caliph at Baghdad. When Saladin was settled at Damascus, Baha-al-Din was again sent on a diplomatic mission. He was empowered by his sovereign, the Atabeg of Mosul, with the approval of the Caliph, to arrange terms of amity with Saladin. He arrived at Damascus on the 25th of February, 1184, accompanied by Bedr-al-Din, the “Sheykh of Sheykhs”, and was received by the Sultan with every mark of gracious hospitality. Although unable to come to any arrangement, he impressed Saladin so favorably that he offered him a post in his own service. Bedr-al-Din, as ambassador of a rival prince, could not accept the honor, and the mission departed on its return to Mosul on the 22nd of March.

Other embassies followed, from the Atabeg’s nephew, Sin jar-Shah of Jezira, and from the lord of Irbil (Arbela), who did homage as vassals of the Sultan. The Prince of Mosul naturally resented these defections and set about chastising the Irbil chief, whose appeal eventually brought Saladin again into the field. Crossing the Euphrates as usual at Bira, on the 15th of April, 1185, he was joined by Kukbury, and at Ras-al-Ayn he learnt that there was a general coalition of the eastern princes to defend the Atabeg of Mosul. Disregarding their threats, he marched onwards to Duneysir at the foot of the hill of Mardin, the troops of which joined him, and arrived before Mosul in June, 1185. In vain the Atabeg sent his mother and other great ladies to humble themselves before him and pray for peace. They were received with all deference, but no promise was given: Saladin was inflexible.

Prepared for the worst, the Mosilis exerted themselves with the strength of desperation, and the siege proved as fruitless as before. A dispute in Armenia furnished an excuse for withdrawing the exhausted army away to the cooler climate of Diyar-Bekr. Saladin occupied Mayyafarikin at the end of August, and then returned to the siege of Mosul. But now the rainy season had followed the burning heats of summer, and neither the general nor the troops were able to support the unhealthy climate. Saladin became seriously ill, and was forced to remove to Harran for change of air; scarcely able to sit his horse, he arrived nearly dead at his friend Kukbury’s castle. His brother al-Adil hastened from Aleppo with the court physicians, but for a long time Saladin lingered between life and death.

At one time the rumor spread that the end had come, and many a kinsman weighed his own chance of succession. Saladin himself gave up hope, and assembling his captains made them take the oath of fidelity to his sons.

1186. Treaty with Mosul

At last he began very slowly to recover, and by the end of February, 1186, he was able to receive an embassy from Mosul, headed by Baha-al-Din, who came to treat for peace. Too weak as yet to dream of a campaign, and softened perhaps by suffering and danger, Saladin consented to a treaty (3 March), by which he took all the country about Shahrzur, beyond the Zab, but left the Atabeg Izz-al-Din in possession of the territory he then governed, between the great rivers, subject to his fully acknowledging the Sultan's sovereignty in the prayers and on the coinage. By this treaty the whole of northern Mesopotamia and part of Kurdistan were joined to Saladin's empire, and the Atabeg of Mosul swelled the muster of his vassals.

Slowly returning from Harran to Damascus, Saladin paused at Emesa. He had lately given the city in fief to his cousin Nasir-al-Din, son of Shirkuh, whose kinship had been strengthened by marriage with one of Saladin's daughters. Nevertheless, during his cousin's illness, Nasir-al-Din had intrigued for the throne of Syria. Retribution followed swiftly; for retiring, full of wine and good cheer, on the Feast of the Victims (4 March, 11 86), the pretender was found dead in his bed next morning.  On his way to the city Saladin was met by the son, a boy of twelve, whom he had appointed to his father's fief; appropriating, however, for the purposes of State a large part of the father's treasure. It is related that Saladin was kind to the boy, and interested himself in his studies. But when he questioned him about his reading, and asked how far he had gone in the Koran, the child replied, “As far as the place where it is written. As to those who swallow up the goods of orphans unjustly; verily they shall swallow down fire into their bellies and burn at the Blazed”.  The Sultan marveled at the boy’s quickness, and did not rebuke his presumption. Leaving him in possession of Emesa, he went on to Aleppo and thence in April to Damascus, where he was welcomed with tumultuous rejoicings, like another Lazarus come back from the grave.