A Crusader Castle in Syria Tells its Own War Stories

Standing proudly in the sun on a high ridge in western Syria is the best-preserved crusader castle in the world. Built almost a millennium ago, Krak des Chevaliers sits on what was once known as the “Gap of Homs,” a trading route that connected Damascus to the sea.

The UNESCO-listed citadel was first built and held by Kurdish troops before being given to the Order of Knights of the Hospital of Saint John, Knights Hospitaller for short, by the count of Tripoli in 1142. It was expanded by, and remained under control of, the crusaders until it was reconquered by the Muslim Mamluk Sultanate in 1271.

Often overlooked in Western history classes, the crusades remain embedded into the fabric of the Middle East and is regularly the prism through which the Levantine Arab world still views Europe. Bashar al-Assad’s regime collapsed in December after almost 14 years of civil war, and tourists are once again flocking to the site.

“In 2010, the year before the civil war erupted, we had over a quarter of a million foreign tourists,” Hazem Hanna said between sips of his coffee in an ancient courtyard, now home to his office. “I have big hopes that the new government will take care of the castle. It’s a world heritage site and it belongs to the world.” 

During the conflict, most of the residents of Husn fled their homes and crossed the border into Lebanon. Many returned in recent weeks for the first time since Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham fighters took control of the country and forced former President Bashar al-Assad and his family to escape to Russia.

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Authoritative and softly spoken, the 50-year-old engineer and director of the castle explained that Krak des Chevaliers was lucky compared to most antique sites caught up in Syria’s bloody civil war. After seeing the destruction wrought by ISIS on the ancient Roman city of Palmyra in central Syria, Hanna was nervous. 

“Every stone has a story,” he said, sweeping his hand over the historical site, adding: “I was worried. There are over 4,000 bits of graffiti from across history. You notice new things every day.”

One of the stories, blasted into the cracks of Krak des Chevaliers, is that of its recent history and the Syrian civil war.

In 2011, an alliance of rebel groups, including the Free Syrian Army (FSA), commandeered the castle and the town of Husn below it. By 2012, Husn was empty of villagers and the strikes started. The opposition fighters fought off the regime for three years. As the rebels darted in and out of buildings and homes they had grown up in, Assad’s forces rained down artillery shells and bombs from fighter jets streaking overhead. 

The castle above took a direct hit from a shell in 2012, and two airstrikes in 2013, destroying part of the southwest tower, a staircase, and the priceless Hall of the Knights, with its intricately carved loggia. 

In 2013, UNESCO was forced to add Krak des Chevaliers to its list of World Heritage in Danger sites, in the hope of inspiring “corrective action,” citing “potential threats consequent to the armed conflict in Syria that started in March 2011.” However, very little was done to protect the castle from attack.

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Monia Adjiwanou, of UNESCO’s Heritage and Culture in Emergencies, hopes the new government will offer chances to preserve heritage sites and curb the theft of artifacts. “The ongoing political transition in Syria could offer new opportunities of engagement with cultural heritage professionals,” Adjiwanou said. “If context and the security situation allow, additional support could be envisaged for the protection of the country’s unique heritage and the fight against illicit trafficking and looting.”

On the morning of  March 20, 2014, the regime launched a surprise attack on Husn and the rebel fighters stationed there. 

Looking up at the castle above him Zakaria Ayash, a fighter with the FSA, recounted how he and his men fought off the regime with Ak-47s and local knowledge. Still, it wasn’t enough to withstand the Syrian Air Force’s bombing campaign.

“Being caught by the regime was a fate worse than death,” the 31-year-old fighter said, before adding, “that fear was the worst part of the fighting.”

Being caught by the regime was a fate worse than death.

Much like the crusaders before them, who thanks to a forged letter by the Mamluks claiming to be from the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller that caused the defenders to lay down their arms, the Sunni Muslim militiamen were forced to abandon their positions. Ayash was hit by a bullet and his men had to hide out behind enemy lines. 

Hezbollah, the Lebanese Shia Muslim military force loyal to the Assad regime, surrounded the FSA fighters. The Shia forces were so close the rebel fighters could hear them say “we’re going to kill you.” Under the cover of darkness, the FSA fighters slipped through Hezbollah lines and across the border into northern Lebanon. They eventually sought refuge in the predominantly Sunni city of Tripoli.

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Ayash maintains that he and his men never fought from inside the castle. According to him, they didn’t need to. They knew the terrain of their town and, in his words, they “didn’t want to destroy the castle” they loved. 

However, on March 21, 2014, just one day after the battle of Husn, journalists were escorted into the castle by Assad’s troops. The BBC reported that they had seen signs of a hasty retreat. Regime troops pointed to curtains hung up inside and an ancient room used to store weapons.

During the conflict, most of the residents of Husn fled their homes and crossed the border into Lebanon. Many returned in recent weeks for the first time since Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham fighters took control of the country and forced former President Bashar al-Assad and his family to escape to Russia.

Staring up at the strategic and well-maintained walls of the citadel, Rashad Mourad said that many residents refused to return for fear of being drafted into Assad’s army. Now that threat has been removed, some have recently returned to the town to check on their homes.

“I came back to my house and everything was stolen,” the castle ticket office administrator said, then listed what had been looted: “Doors, windows, everything. Locals know it was the regime.”

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In the shadow of Krak des Chevalier, another regime legacy remains. One of its darkest secrets. Stepping through an olive grove just a mile from where the battles at the castle unfolded, Wael Mouria came to a halt above a concrete slab lying on the ground.

With all his might he pushed it to one side, revealing the remains of at least 25 human skeletons in a pit below. “I think there are 100 more buried in the olive grove,” the softly spoken Syrian said, casting his eyes among the trees.

According to Mouria, after the FSA and its allies retreated, the Syrian Army put up a checkpoint on the road nearby. Over the years, anyone suspected of having links to opposition groups was detained at the barrier and then disappeared. Occasionally, regime forces whisked their family members away.

Mouria explained that a local shepherd boy had stumbled upon a scene of Syrian Army soldiers pushing lifeless bodies into a hole in the ground. The young man, who has learning difficulties, struggled to convince villagers to follow him into the fields and groves, but Mouria eventually relented. What he found was one of many mass graves being discovered across Syria.

Krak des Chevaliers now has another grim story.

Back among the castle’s hallowed walls, as the afternoon call to prayer floats up from the mosque below, Hanna mused on what the site, and the new Syria, meant to him, unaware of another dark chapter in the castle’s history: the graveyard below. 

“The Syrian people need psychological support, but when I walk inside the castle I feel like a new man. My problems disappear,” the director said, looking across his country from the highest tower. “I feel part of something now. Something bigger than stones.”