When the Crusades are mentioned today, it is almost always in the context of weary self-flagellation by Westerners searching for some ersatz virtue in denouncing their own history. Forgotten are the Muslim assaults on the Eastern Empire, the conquest of much of Iberia, the invasion of France, and even the attempted attack on Rome. For the modern post-Westerner, there is and can be only one narrative: imperialism! Lars Brownworth offers a far more interesting account—one in which the Western desire to redeem Christian cities from Turkish rule intertwines with Byzantium’s careful efforts to balance quarrelsome allies and uneasy truces with foes like the caliphate, which could not be defeated outright. Despite its brevity, In Distant Lands covers remarkable ground, tracing the course and consequences of each Crusade and showing how often their fate was decided as much by internal politics—among both Christians and Saracens—as by swords on the field.

Brownworth’s previous work into the Normans and Eastern Empire comes in handy here, especially when trying to cover the role played by the East in the crusades. I had previously heard of the Fourth Crusade as a malicious betrayal of Constantinople by the European powers passing through and deciding instead of capture the city: the truth is rather more complicated. From the First Crusade onward, Constantinople was in an unenviable position. While the Franks and Germans coming through with lusty cries of “DEUS VULT!” were brothers in Christ, their arrival would inevitably destabilize the peace the Eastern Empire had established with the Saracen powers who had taken much of the Middle East for Mohammad. Worse: when the Crusaders did make strides, Constantinople viewed this as their being helpful lads and returning the Empire’s cities to Christendom….and itself.

One example of this shows up early, when an increasingly bedraggled Crusader army woke up one morning to find that the city of Nicaea, which they’d been besieging for weeks, had suddenly thrown up Imperial colors. During the night, the caliphate’s forces had withdrawn and allowed Byzantine troops to march in. Now it was a Christian city again, safe within the Empire: no loot for you Franks and Germans, sorry. Time and again, the Empire’s need to act pragmatically toward powers who would still be there after the westerners had gotten bored and gone home would disrupt relations between the armies of Christendom. (The Empire and the Germans had especially terse relations, given that the Holy Roman Empire styled itself as the heir of Rome. Heir of Rome? Rome still exists — in Constantinople, with the real Emperor!) Not that they needed help — every single Crusade was disrupted by internal quarreling, most notably in the Third Crusade between Phillip II and Richard. Fortunately, the Saracens were also often divided, with Sunni and Shiia caliphates fighting amongst themselves, and civil wars happening within the caliphates. Still, as crusade after crusade went on — some under very capable leadership like France’s Louis IX — Europe began losing interest in saving Outremer. It didn’t help that Europe’s princes were more concerned with one another, and that the Pope had lost a lot of moral authority by targeting “crusades” against temporal enemies. By the book’s end, France had essentially captured the Papacy in Avignon, and many of the Middle East’s ancient cities like Antioch and Tyre had been wiped off the map by vengeful Saracens no less destructive than the Mongols.

This is impressive work, distilling a lot of drama and fighting into a volume scarcely more than 200 pages. It gave me a much better appreciation of the Empire’s delicate position during the Crusades, and an appreciate for the fickleness that is fortune: there were so many times when the tide was moving one way or another, only to suddenly break when something random happened. As much as I dislike the Normans, reading this makes me eager to read the last Brownsworth title I’ve not read: The Normans: From Raiders to Kings.