Over the years, the Templars have become associated, rightly or wrongly, with many arcane practices. But ‘training consultancy’ is not usually one of them.
But there were times when imparting the skills and knowledge of the order was of the highest importance in saving the Crusader States. And the Second Crusade was a horrific case in point…
Crusade as Train Crash
The two mightiest armies in Europe were on the march. But their path was full of horror.
These were skilled fighting men, but they were walking from Europe to the Holy Land, and encountering Turkic tactics for the first time—their experience counted for very little. In theory at least, they understood broadly what they would be facing. But the armies of the Second Crusade provide a case study in how not to conduct an orderly fighting march in face of the enemy.
Route of the Second Crusade – Wikimedia Commons
The German army of Conrad III had split up and been largely destroyed by the Seljuk Turks in October 1147, at the Second Battle of Dorylaeum. The French forces, led by King Louis VII, one of the West’s most prominent crusaders, were in imminent danger of following them along the same self-destructive trajectory. At the most basic level, they did not even know how to organise their march properly – and the Turks were not the opponents to let such sloppy behaviour go unpunished.
Luckily, there were Templar veterans present to try to instil some sense of ‘best practice’. But its practical application left much to be desired. The need for a strong force in the vanguard, and another in the rear, was understood, at least in theory. But the French army of the Second Crusade consistently underestimated the need for flank guards to protect the baggage train in the middle of the long, strung-out column.
Even more worryingly, the French king was inexperienced. Control was weak. What passed for discipline was lax in the extreme. There were far too many high-ranking nobles present, each with their own, loudly voiced, over-entitled and under-informed opinions. Orders were interpreted as suggestions—and suggestions were ignored. Decision-making on the march often looked more like a poorly moderated group discussion, rather than the expression of firm strategic direction that was so plainly needed.
The English commentator John of Salisbury, writing after the event, suggested that the French army had ‘neither military discipline nor a strong hand to dispense justice and correct faults, [and had] lost all hope of ordered strategy’. Everyone was wary of criticising an anointed king too overtly, but the experienced leadership that a successful fighting march required was clearly lacking. And the arrogant independence of some of the greater nobles would ultimately lead to near disaster.
Chaos and Crusade 1147–1148
As they approached Mount Cadmus in early January 1148, the vanguard was under the command of ‘a certain nobleman from Aquitaine called Geoffrey de Rancogne’, who, together with Count Amadeus II of Maurienne, King Louis’ uncle, petulantly decided that standing orders could be ignored. Not understanding, or not caring about the difficulties that the rest of the army would have in keeping up, he chose to press on in defiance of instructions.
As light began to fail the entire column became increasingly disorientated. Units jammed together in confusion. The army was hardly a shining example of the military arts even in daylight—at dusk, it rapidly began turning into little more than a disorganised mob. In the chaos that ensued, the king was almost killed, and elements of the French army routed.
15th-century depiction of the Battle of Mount Cadmus
Minds were focused by the imminence of destruction. They knew they might not be so lucky next time. As he should have done at the outset, the king decided to give tactical command of the army to those who had the best understanding of how to deal with Turkic harassment—the Templars.
The order was a small but elite task force within the army. They had contributed a contingent of some 130 men when Louis set off from Paris in 1147, presumably alongside larger numbers of their other retainers and hired troops. More importantly, they also brought their understanding of how to handle Turkic horse archers. Putting their battlefield experience into practice, the Templars had performed extremely well on the march. Unlike many of their brave but ill-disciplined colleagues, they were still in good fighting condition.
The Templars immediately put simple but effective organisational structures in place. They defined a clear chain of command. Sub-commanders were nominated and assigned clear roles in different parts of the marching column. Each was given standardised numbers of troops. Extraordinarily, and as a sign of just how desperate the situation had become, everyone in the army was forced, on oath, to become a temporary lay-brother of the Templars. An oath was not something taken lightly in the medieval world—all were now subject to their rules and their famously strict military discipline.
The reorganisation was accompanied by a crash course on how to deal with Turkic cavalry. The discipline of the French host was tightened up. Archers and crossbowmen were deployed where the Templars knew they were most needed. Flanks were more assiduously protected. But the very basic nature of the remedial action that was now put in place says much about how disorganised the French had been before the Templars took control.
The French looked ungainly and amateurish compared to the more rigorous approach of the warrior monks. The Templars had learnt their trade on the harsh training grounds of the Middle East, and it showed. The contrast was clear—a European army, however large and however prestigious its leaders, lacked the cohesiveness that was needed to fight large Turkic forces while on the move.
The Templars had made clear their willingness to die for the cause. William of Tyre wrote that it was under Pope Eugenius III (1145–1153), probably as a result of their discipline and service during the Second Crusade, that the Templars were given the right to wear a distinctive red cross on their surcoats—this simple symbol was given in recognition of their willingness to shed their own blood, and ultimately give up their lives, in the defence of the Latin East. Interestingly, James of Vitry, who lived in the Holy Land for many years, wrote of this red cross explicitly not just as a sign of bravery and sacrifice, but as a symbol of their acceptance of martyrdom.
This was a turning point in the military history of the crusades—and it was the moment when the Templars transformed themselves from a small group of absurdly ambitious ecclesiastical bodyguards into mounted martyrs, leading the fight for the Christian Middle East.
A New Knighthood for a New Army
Injecting higher-quality military practice was at the heart of what the Templars offered. This was particularly true in terms of the tactics needed to defeat light cavalry horse-archers—a supremely dangerous type of warrior almost unknown in western Europe. The military orders were not just making European troops better at what they already did. They used their new professionalism to change the entire way in which Europeans waged war in the Holy Land.
The poor performance of the armies of the Second Crusade was just one example of a much bigger problem. It was important to ensure that men on their way over from the West adapted as quickly as possible to the strange local conditions that they would meet when they arrived.
Templars depicted by Matthew Paris
One of the many benefits of having a Templar organisation in the West, as well as their more obvious presence on active duty in the East, was that the order could start to influence military best practice even before crusading forces arrived in the East. Painful experience showed that new troops from Europe, and particularly the knightly class, were overconfident—they were also woefully unprepared for the horrors that cavalry could inflict on a battlefield.
Crusaders were essentially tourists—however brave or skilled, they were still just passing through. Using crusading manpower for strategic purposes was difficult. Unhelpfully, their tactical use brought just as many problems. Faced with very different styles of warfare in the East, travellers from the West could not be expected to adapt fully during the few months they were on pilgrimage. The amateurishness of new arrivals could be an active embarrassment. And the lacklustre performance of new (ill-acclimatised and only temporary) crusaders was often repeated during the twelfth century.
The role of the new Templar troops should not be exaggerated. They were never a fully ‘professional army’ in the way that we would use the term. But they had better resources, and the more ‘corporate’ focus of the new warrior monks allowed them to take a longer view—at their best, they could rise above the compromises and complications of local issues.
The Templars also had the opportunity to develop and implement military best practice across large bodies of men—and this was a highly unusual luxury in the medieval world. They could identify the tactics that were most successful. They could, by their example and training, introduce these new tactical responses into the West’s crusader armies.
It is hard to be definitive about the key points in time when these innovations were put into practice—with the partial exception of the Rule of the Templars, there are no surviving strategy papers or planning documents. But whenever we see military innovation, we find the Templars at the forefront of change.
When radical new concentric castles with multiple layers of walls were being built in the Holy Land, it was the military orders who took the lead. As Turcopole horse-archers (Christian light cavalry) were recruited to deal with enemy horsemen, it was again the Templars who were in the forefront—they employed them in large numbers and created the senior position of ‘Turcopolier’ officers to command them. And as professional crossbowmen began to be recruited into Frankish armies during the twelfth century, so the order became a major employer of their services.
Famously, of course, whenever a determined and coordinated charge was called for, the Templars were those trusted to take the lead. They led by example—these were men who combined unit cohesion with bravery, and discipline with an aggressive spirit. Ironically, given their supposed fanaticism, whenever restraint was most called for, the Templars were there too. The command of the tail end of a fighting column, always the most dangerous position and the one most susceptible to severe provocation, came to be given almost invariably to the military orders—only they had the discipline needed for the task.
The military sophistication of the Templars, and the burdens being placed upon them, had clearly grown enormously over the previous two decades.
They were, at last, the champions of the Crusader States.
Steve Tibble, an honorary research associate at Royal Holloway, University of London, has a new book out – Assassins and Templars: A Battle in Myth and Blood – from Yale University Press. It tells the true history behind the hugely popular video game Assassin’s Creed and the medieval world’s two most extraordinary organisations, tracing their origins, strategies, violent clashes, and enduring legacy in myth and memory.
You can get your copy of Assassins and Templars: A Battle in Myth and Blood through
By Steve Tibble
Over the years, the Templars have become associated, rightly or wrongly, with many arcane practices. But ‘training consultancy’ is not usually one of them.
But there were times when imparting the skills and knowledge of the order was of the highest importance in saving the Crusader States. And the Second Crusade was a horrific case in point…
Crusade as Train Crash
The two mightiest armies in Europe were on the march. But their path was full of horror.
These were skilled fighting men, but they were walking from Europe to the Holy Land, and encountering Turkic tactics for the first time—their experience counted for very little. In theory at least, they understood broadly what they would be facing. But the armies of the Second Crusade provide a case study in how not to conduct an orderly fighting march in face of the enemy.
The German army of Conrad III had split up and been largely destroyed by the Seljuk Turks in October 1147, at the Second Battle of Dorylaeum. The French forces, led by King Louis VII, one of the West’s most prominent crusaders, were in imminent danger of following them along the same self-destructive trajectory. At the most basic level, they did not even know how to organise their march properly – and the Turks were not the opponents to let such sloppy behaviour go unpunished.
Luckily, there were Templar veterans present to try to instil some sense of ‘best practice’. But its practical application left much to be desired. The need for a strong force in the vanguard, and another in the rear, was understood, at least in theory. But the French army of the Second Crusade consistently underestimated the need for flank guards to protect the baggage train in the middle of the long, strung-out column.
Even more worryingly, the French king was inexperienced. Control was weak. What passed for discipline was lax in the extreme. There were far too many high-ranking nobles present, each with their own, loudly voiced, over-entitled and under-informed opinions. Orders were interpreted as suggestions—and suggestions were ignored. Decision-making on the march often looked more like a poorly moderated group discussion, rather than the expression of firm strategic direction that was so plainly needed.
The English commentator John of Salisbury, writing after the event, suggested that the French army had ‘neither military discipline nor a strong hand to dispense justice and correct faults, [and had] lost all hope of ordered strategy’. Everyone was wary of criticising an anointed king too overtly, but the experienced leadership that a successful fighting march required was clearly lacking. And the arrogant independence of some of the greater nobles would ultimately lead to near disaster.
Chaos and Crusade 1147–1148
As they approached Mount Cadmus in early January 1148, the vanguard was under the command of ‘a certain nobleman from Aquitaine called Geoffrey de Rancogne’, who, together with Count Amadeus II of Maurienne, King Louis’ uncle, petulantly decided that standing orders could be ignored. Not understanding, or not caring about the difficulties that the rest of the army would have in keeping up, he chose to press on in defiance of instructions.
As light began to fail the entire column became increasingly disorientated. Units jammed together in confusion. The army was hardly a shining example of the military arts even in daylight—at dusk, it rapidly began turning into little more than a disorganised mob. In the chaos that ensued, the king was almost killed, and elements of the French army routed.
Minds were focused by the imminence of destruction. They knew they might not be so lucky next time. As he should have done at the outset, the king decided to give tactical command of the army to those who had the best understanding of how to deal with Turkic harassment—the Templars.
The order was a small but elite task force within the army. They had contributed a contingent of some 130 men when Louis set off from Paris in 1147, presumably alongside larger numbers of their other retainers and hired troops. More importantly, they also brought their understanding of how to handle Turkic horse archers. Putting their battlefield experience into practice, the Templars had performed extremely well on the march. Unlike many of their brave but ill-disciplined colleagues, they were still in good fighting condition.
The Templars immediately put simple but effective organisational structures in place. They defined a clear chain of command. Sub-commanders were nominated and assigned clear roles in different parts of the marching column. Each was given standardised numbers of troops. Extraordinarily, and as a sign of just how desperate the situation had become, everyone in the army was forced, on oath, to become a temporary lay-brother of the Templars. An oath was not something taken lightly in the medieval world—all were now subject to their rules and their famously strict military discipline.
The reorganisation was accompanied by a crash course on how to deal with Turkic cavalry. The discipline of the French host was tightened up. Archers and crossbowmen were deployed where the Templars knew they were most needed. Flanks were more assiduously protected. But the very basic nature of the remedial action that was now put in place says much about how disorganised the French had been before the Templars took control.
The French looked ungainly and amateurish compared to the more rigorous approach of the warrior monks. The Templars had learnt their trade on the harsh training grounds of the Middle East, and it showed. The contrast was clear—a European army, however large and however prestigious its leaders, lacked the cohesiveness that was needed to fight large Turkic forces while on the move.
The Templars had made clear their willingness to die for the cause. William of Tyre wrote that it was under Pope Eugenius III (1145–1153), probably as a result of their discipline and service during the Second Crusade, that the Templars were given the right to wear a distinctive red cross on their surcoats—this simple symbol was given in recognition of their willingness to shed their own blood, and ultimately give up their lives, in the defence of the Latin East. Interestingly, James of Vitry, who lived in the Holy Land for many years, wrote of this red cross explicitly not just as a sign of bravery and sacrifice, but as a symbol of their acceptance of martyrdom.
This was a turning point in the military history of the crusades—and it was the moment when the Templars transformed themselves from a small group of absurdly ambitious ecclesiastical bodyguards into mounted martyrs, leading the fight for the Christian Middle East.
A New Knighthood for a New Army
Injecting higher-quality military practice was at the heart of what the Templars offered. This was particularly true in terms of the tactics needed to defeat light cavalry horse-archers—a supremely dangerous type of warrior almost unknown in western Europe. The military orders were not just making European troops better at what they already did. They used their new professionalism to change the entire way in which Europeans waged war in the Holy Land.
The poor performance of the armies of the Second Crusade was just one example of a much bigger problem. It was important to ensure that men on their way over from the West adapted as quickly as possible to the strange local conditions that they would meet when they arrived.
One of the many benefits of having a Templar organisation in the West, as well as their more obvious presence on active duty in the East, was that the order could start to influence military best practice even before crusading forces arrived in the East. Painful experience showed that new troops from Europe, and particularly the knightly class, were overconfident—they were also woefully unprepared for the horrors that cavalry could inflict on a battlefield.
Crusaders were essentially tourists—however brave or skilled, they were still just passing through. Using crusading manpower for strategic purposes was difficult. Unhelpfully, their tactical use brought just as many problems. Faced with very different styles of warfare in the East, travellers from the West could not be expected to adapt fully during the few months they were on pilgrimage. The amateurishness of new arrivals could be an active embarrassment. And the lacklustre performance of new (ill-acclimatised and only temporary) crusaders was often repeated during the twelfth century.
The role of the new Templar troops should not be exaggerated. They were never a fully ‘professional army’ in the way that we would use the term. But they had better resources, and the more ‘corporate’ focus of the new warrior monks allowed them to take a longer view—at their best, they could rise above the compromises and complications of local issues.
The Templars also had the opportunity to develop and implement military best practice across large bodies of men—and this was a highly unusual luxury in the medieval world. They could identify the tactics that were most successful. They could, by their example and training, introduce these new tactical responses into the West’s crusader armies.
It is hard to be definitive about the key points in time when these innovations were put into practice—with the partial exception of the Rule of the Templars, there are no surviving strategy papers or planning documents. But whenever we see military innovation, we find the Templars at the forefront of change.
When radical new concentric castles with multiple layers of walls were being built in the Holy Land, it was the military orders who took the lead. As Turcopole horse-archers (Christian light cavalry) were recruited to deal with enemy horsemen, it was again the Templars who were in the forefront—they employed them in large numbers and created the senior position of ‘Turcopolier’ officers to command them. And as professional crossbowmen began to be recruited into Frankish armies during the twelfth century, so the order became a major employer of their services.
Famously, of course, whenever a determined and coordinated charge was called for, the Templars were those trusted to take the lead. They led by example—these were men who combined unit cohesion with bravery, and discipline with an aggressive spirit. Ironically, given their supposed fanaticism, whenever restraint was most called for, the Templars were there too. The command of the tail end of a fighting column, always the most dangerous position and the one most susceptible to severe provocation, came to be given almost invariably to the military orders—only they had the discipline needed for the task.
The military sophistication of the Templars, and the burdens being placed upon them, had clearly grown enormously over the previous two decades.
They were, at last, the champions of the Crusader States.
You can get your copy of Assassins and Templars: A Battle in Myth and Blood through
Yale University Press website
Amazon.com
Amazon.ca
Amazon.co.uk
To learn more about Steve, please visit his website or follow him on Instagram
Top Image: Depiction of the Second Crusade – BnF MS Français 22495 fol. 154v
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