As soon as Saladin heard of the advance of the christian army, he turned the siege of the citadel of Tiberias into a blockade, called in his detachments of cavalry, and hastened to occupy all the passes and defiles of the mountains leading to Tiberias. The march of the infidel host, which amounted to 80,000 horse and foot, over the hilly country, is compared by an Arabian writer, an eye-witness, to mountains in movement, or to the vast waves of an agitated sea. Saladin encamped on the hills beyond Tiberias, resting his left wing upon the lake, and planting his cavalry in the valleys. When the Latin forces had arrived within three miles of Tiberias, they came in sight of the Mussulman army, and were immediately assailed by the light cavalry of the Arabs. During the afternoon of that day a bloody battle was fought. The Christians attempted, but in vain, to penetrate the defiles of the mountains; and when the evening came they found that they had merely been able to hold their ground without advancing a single step. Instead of fighting his way, at all hazards, to the lake of Tiberias, or falling back upon some position where he could have secured a supply of water, the king, following the advice of the count of Tripoli, committed the fatal mistake of ordering the tents to be pitched. “When the Saracens saw that the Christians had pitched their tents,” says the chronicler, “they came and encamped so close to them that the soldiers of the two armies could converse together, and not even a cat could escape from the Christian lines without the knowledge of the Saracens.” It was a sultry summer’s night, the army of the cross was hemmed in amongst dry and barren rocks, and both the men and horses, after their harassing and fatiguing march, threw themselves on the parched ground, sighing in vain for water. During the livelong night, not a drop of that precious element touched their lips, and the soldiers arose exhausted and unrefreshed, for the toil, and labour, and fierce warfare of the ensuing day.