Guy, meantime, too weak for the position he held, had not been able to prevent Saladin’s ravages in Galilee, and when the sultan attacked the fortress of Kerak could not go out to the assistance of Renaud. Yielding to the pressure of his barons, the king deprived Guy of the regency, and associated his nephew, a child of five years old, with him on the throne, under the title of Baldwin the Fifth. Poor little Baldwin the Fifth died very soon after, however, and had very little enjoyment of his dignity. He was the son of William Longsword and Sybille. Baldwin then summoned Guy de Lusignan before him to answer for his many sins of omission. Guy refused to obey, and took refuge in Ascalon, of which he was count. The king, who was now quite blind, was carried to that city, and personally summoned him to surrender. The gates were closed. Baldwin, thinking they would not dare to refuse him admission, knocked at the gate with his own helpless hands. But no answer was given. Then the poor blind king, impotent in his rage, called Heaven to witness the outrage to his authority, and was carried back to Jerusalem, swearing to punish the audacity of Guy. All he could do was to deprive him of his dignities, and to hand the regency over to Raymond of Tripoli. In the desolated state of the country, nothing could be thought of but, as usual, to send to Europe for help. The patriarch Heraclius, the Grand Master of the Temple, and the Grand Master of the Hospitallers, were sent on an urgent embassy to ask for help. They went first to Rome. The pope had been driven out of Rome and was now at Verona, trying to re-establish peace throughout the whole of Christendom. With him was Frederic, Emperor of Germany. They next went to France. Philip Augustus received them with every kind of distinction, but would promise no help. He had only recently mounted the throne, and his own affairs required care. Next, and as a last resource, they went to England. Henry II. was full of domestic trouble at the time. He had taken, he acknowledged, an oath to defend the kingdom of Jerusalem, but he could not go now, it was impossible; he would, however, help them with treasure. The patriarch lost his temper at this, the last of the repeated refusals. “You were sworn,” he cried, “to take your army to the Holy Land. Ten years have passed without your doing anything to redeem your promise. You have deceived God: know you not what God reserves for those who refuse to serve him? I see,” he went on, “that I am exciting your wrath; but you may treat me as you treated my brother, Thomas of Canterbury; it is all the same to me whether I die in Syria by the hand of infidels, or whether I am murdered by you, more cruel than any Saracen.” Henry took no notice of these angry words, and declared his resolution not to abandon the kingdom, and allowed those of his subjects who wished to take the Cross. But the zeal for crusading had died out, and very few went to defend the Church of the Sepulchre.