Chapter XV: Book II: A.d. 1096-1097 (3)

Scarcely had Godfrey, who, followed by fifty knights, had preceded his army, mixed with the combatants, when the sultan sounded a retreat and retired to the heights, where he hoped the Crusaders would not dare to follow him. The second body of the Christian army soon arrived on the plain smoking with the blood of the Christians. The Crusaders, recognising their brothers and companions stretched in the dust, became impatient to revenge their death, and with loud cries demanded to be led to the fight. Even the combatants who had been fighting from morning, now would not hear of repose. The Christian army immediately formed in order of battle. Bohemond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy, placed themselves on the left; Godfrey, the count of Flanders, and the count of Blois led on the right wing. Raymond commanded the centre, and the rear-guard, or body of reserve, was placed under the orders of Adhémar. Before the leaders gave the word, the priests passed among the ranks, exhorting the Crusaders to fight manfully, and giving them their benedictions. The soldiers and the leaders, drawing their swords, and threatening the enemy, cried with one voice, “_It is the will of God! It is the will of God!_” and this animating war-cry was repeated by the echoes of the mountains and the valleys. At length the Christian army advanced, marching full of confidence against the Turks, for whom the rocks and the hills appeared to be a sure place of refuge.

The Saracens remained motionless on the mountains, and had apparently exhausted their arrows. The nature of the ground did not allow them to perform their rapid evolutions or pursue their usual tactics. Neither were they animated by the hopes of victory; but, in an attitude which expressed fear, they awaited their enemies in silence. The count of Thoulouse, who attacked them in front, broke through their ranks at the first charge. Tancred, Godfrey, Hugh, and the two Roberts, attacked them on their flanks with the same advantage. Adhémar, who had gone round the mountains, directed his attack upon the rear of the enemies, and completed the disorder. The Saracens found themselves surrounded by a forest of lances, and became only solicitous to secure safety by escaping over the rocks and through the woods. A great number of emirs, three thousand officers, and more than twenty thousand soldiers, lost their lives in the battle and the flight.

The camp of the enemy, which was at two leagues’ distance, fell into the hands of the Crusaders. The conquerors there found abundance of provisions, magnificently ornamented tents, immense treasures, all sorts of beasts of burthen, and above all, a great number of camels. The sight of these animals, which were then unknown in the West, caused them as much surprise as joy. They mounted the horses of the Saracens, to pursue the remains of the conquered army. Towards nightfall they returned to their camp loaded with booty, preceded by their priests, singing hymns and canticles of thanksgiving. Both leaders and soldiers had covered themselves with glory in this great conflict. We have named the principal leaders of the army; historians point out many more, such as Baldwin of Beauvais, Galon de Calmon, Gaston de Béarn, Gerard de Chérisi, all of whom signalized themselves by exploits, says William of Tyre, the remembrance of which will never perish.

The day after the victory the Crusaders repaired to the field of battle for the purpose of burying the dead. They had lost four thousand of their companions, and they paid them the last duties in tears; the clergy offered up their prayers for them, and the army honoured them as martyrs. They soon, however, passed from funeral ceremonies to transports of the wildest joy. On stripping the Saracens, they quarrelled for their blood-stained habits. In the excess of their delight, some of the soldiers would put on the armour of their enemies, and clothing themselves in the flowing robes of the Mussulmans, would seat themselves in the tents of the conquered, and, with imitative gestures, ridicule the luxury and customs of Asia. Such as were without arms took possession of the swords and crooked sabres of the Saracens, and the archers filled their quivers with the arrows which had been shot at them during the fight.

The intoxication of victory, however, did not prevent their doing justice to the bravery of the Turks, who, from that time, boasted of having a common origin with the Franks. Contemporary historians, who praise the valour of the Turks, add, that they only wanted to be Christians to make them quite comparable to the Crusaders. That which, otherwise, proves the high idea the Crusaders entertained of their enemies, is, that they attributed their victory to a miracle. Two days after the battle, says Albert of Aix, although no one was pursuing them, the infidels continued flying, exclaiming as they went, “_It is the will of God! It is the will of God!_” After the victory, the Christian army invoked the names of St. George and St. Demetrius, who had been seen, as they said, fighting in the ranks of the Christians. This pious fable was accredited among both the Latins and Greeks. A long time subsequent to the victory, the Armenians erected a church in the neighbourhood of Dorylæum, where the people were accustomed to assemble on the first Friday of March, and believed that they saw St. George appear on horseback, lance in hand.

Whilst the Crusaders were felicitating themselves on their victory, the sultan of Nice, who did not dare again to encounter the Christians in the field, undertook to desolate the country which he could not defend. At the head of the wreck of his army, and ten thousand Arabs who had joined him, he preceded the march of the Christians, and laid waste his own provinces. The Turks burnt the harvests, pillaged the cities, the bourgs, and the houses of the Christians, and carried away in their train the wives and children of the Greeks, whom they detained as hostages. The banks of the Meander and the Caïster, Cappadocia, Pisidia, Isauria, and all the country as far as Mount Taurus, were given up to pillage, and entirely laid waste.

When the Crusaders resumed their march, they determined not to separate again, as they had done on entering Phrygia. This resolution certainly rendered them safe from surprise or hostile attack, but it exposed so numerous an army to the risk of perishing by famine and misery in a country devastated by the Turks.[81] The Christians, who marched without forethought, and were never provisioned for more than a few days, were not long before they felt the want of food. They found nothing on their route but deserted fields, and soon had no other subsistence but the roots of wild plants and the ears of corn which had escaped the ravages of the Saracens. By far the greater number of the horses of the army perished for want of water and forage.

Most of the knights, who were accustomed to look with contempt on foot-soldiers, were obliged, like them, to march on foot, and carry their arms, the weight of which was enough to exhaust them. The Christian army presented a strange spectacle—knights were seen mounted on asses and oxen, advancing at the head of their companies; rams, goats, pigs, dogs, every animal they could meet with, was loaded with baggage, which, for the most part, was left abandoned on the roads.[82]

The Crusaders then traversed that part of Phrygia which the ancients called “burning Phrygia.” When their army arrived in the country of Sauria,[83] they endured all the horrors of thirst, of which the most robust soldiers could not resist the terrible power. We read in William of Tyre, that five hundred perished in one day. Historians say that women were seen giving premature birth to their offspring in the midst of burning and open fields; whilst others, in despair, with children they could no longer nourish, implored death with loud cries, and, in the excess of their agony, rolled naked on the earth in the sight of the whole army.[84] The authors of the time do not forget to mention the falcons and birds of prey which the knights had brought with them into Asia, and which almost all perished under the burning sun. In vain the Crusaders called for a repetition of the miracles which God had formerly wrought for his chosen people in the desert. The sterile valleys of Pisidia resounded during several days with their prayers, with their complaints, and perhaps, likewise, with their blasphemies.

In the midst of these burning countries they at length made a discovery which saved the army, but which was very near becoming as fatal to them as the horrors of thirst.

The dogs which had followed the Crusaders had abandoned their masters, and wandered over the plains and into the mountains in search of a spring.[85] One day several of them were seen returning to the camp with their paws and their hides covered with moist sand, and it was judged that they had found water. Several soldiers observed their track, and discovered a river. The whole army rushed towards it in a mass. The Crusaders, famishing with heat and thirst, cast themselves headlong into the water, and quenched the inward heat without moderation or precaution. More than three hundred of them died almost immediately, and many fell seriously ill, and could not continue their march.

At length the Christian army arrived before Antiochetta, which opened its gates to them. This city, the capital of Pisidia, was situated in the midst of a territory interspersed with fields, rivers, and forests. The sight of a smiling and fertile country invited the Christians to repose for a few days, and made them soon forget all the evils they had undergone.

As the fame of their victories and their march had spread throughout the neighbouring countries, the greater part of the cities of Asia Minor, some from fear, and others from affection to the Christians, sent deputies to offer them supplies and to swear obedience to them. Thus they found themselves masters of several countries of whose names or geographical position they were perfectly ignorant. Most of the Crusaders were far from being aware that the provinces they had just subdued had seen the phalanx of Alexander and the armies of Rome, or that the Greeks, the inhabitants of these countries, were descended from the Gauls, who, in the time of the second Brennus, had left Illyria and the shores of the Danube, had crossed the Bosphorus,[86] pillaged the city of Heraclea, and founded a colony on the banks of the Halys. Without troubling themselves with traces of antiquity, the new conquerors ordered the Christian churches to be rebuilt, and scoured the country to collect provisions.

During their abode at Antiochetta, the joy of their conquests was, for a moment, disturbed by the fear of losing two of their most renowned chiefs. Raymond, count of Thoulouse, fell dangerously ill. As his life was despaired of, they had already laid him upon ashes, and the bishop of Orange was repeating the litanies of the dead, when a Saxon count came to announce that Raymond would not die of this disease, and that the prayers of St. Gilles had obtained for him _a truce with death_. These words, says William of Tyre, restored hope to all the bystanders, and soon Raymond showed himself to the whole army, which celebrated his cure as a miracle.

About the same time, Godfrey, who had one day wandered into a forest, was in great danger from defending a soldier who was attacked by a bear. He conquered the bear, but being wounded in the thigh, and the blood flowing copiously, he was carried in an apparently dying state into the camp of the Crusaders. The loss of a battle would have spread less consternation than the sad spectacle which now presented itself to the eyes of the Christians. All the Crusaders shed tears, and put up prayers for the life of Godfrey. The wound did not prove dangerous, but weakened by the loss of blood, the duke de Bouillon was a length of time before he regained his strength. The count de Thoulouse had likewise a long convalescence, and both were obliged during several weeks to be borne in a litter in the rear of the army.

Greater evils threatened the Crusaders. Hitherto peace had reigned amongst them, and their union constituted their strength. All at once, discord broke out amongst some of the leaders, and was on the point of extending to the whole army. Tancred and Baldwin, the brother of Godfrey, were sent out on a scouring party, either to disperse the scattered bands of Turks, or to protect the Christians, and obtain from them assistance and provisions. They advanced at first into Lycaonia as far as the city of Iconium;[87] but having met with no enemy, and finding the country abandoned, they directed their march towards the sea-coast, through the mountains of Cilicia. Tancred, who marched first, arrived without obstacle under the walls of Tarsus, a celebrated city of antiquity, which takes great pride from having been the birthplace of St. Paul. The Turks who defended the place consented to display the flag of the Christians on their walls, and promised to surrender if they were not speedily relieved. Tancred, whom the inhabitants, for the most part Christians, already considered as their deliverer, was encamping without the walls, when he saw the detachment commanded by Baldwin approach. The leaders and the soldiers congratulated each other on their reunion, and expressed the greater joy from having, reciprocally, taken each other for enemies.

But this harmony was soon troubled by the pretensions of Baldwin. The brother of Godfrey was indignant at seeing the colours of Tancred and Bohemond flying on the walls of Tarsus. He declared that as his troop was the more numerous, the city ought to belong to him. He demanded, at least, that the two parties should enter together into the place, and should share the spoils of the garrison and the inhabitants. Tancred rejected this proposition with scorn, and said that he had not taken arms for the purpose of pillaging Christian cities. At these words Baldwin broke into a rage, and bestowed the grossest abuse upon Tancred, Bohemond, and the whole race of Norman adventurers. After long debates, it was agreed on both sides, that the affair should be decided by the inhabitants, and that the city should belong to whichever they should choose for master. The assembled people at first appeared inclined towards Tancred, to whom they thought they owed their deliverance; but Baldwin made the Turks and the inhabitants sensible of the superiority of his numbers, and threatened them with his anger and his vengeance. The fear which he inspired decided the suffrages in his favour; and the flag of Tancred was cast into the ditches of the town, and replaced by that of Baldwin.[88]

Blood was about to flow to avenge this outrage, but the Italians and Normans, appeased by their chief, listened to the voice of moderation, and quitted the disputed city to seek other conquests elsewhere. Baldwin entered in triumph into the place, of which the fortress and several towers were still in possession of the Turks. He so much feared that his new conquest would be disputed, that he refused to open the gates to three hundred Crusaders whom Bohemond had sent to the assistance of Tancred, and who demanded an asylum for the night. These latter, being obliged to pass the night in the open field, were surprised and massacred by the Turks. The following morning, at the sight of their brethren stretched lifeless, and stripped of their arms and vestments, the Christians could not restrain their indignation. The city of Tarsus resounded with their groans and complaints. The soldiers of Baldwin flew to arms, they threatened the Turks who still remained in the place, and vowed vengeance upon their own leader, whom they accused of the death of their companions. At the first outbreak of this danger Baldwin was obliged to fly, and take refuge in one of the towers. A short time after he appeared surrounded by his own people, mourning with them the death of the Crusaders, and excused himself by saying, that he had bound himself by an oath that none but his own soldiers should enter the town. Thus speaking, he pointed to several towers which were still occupied by the Turks. In the midst of the tumult, some Christian women, whose noses and ears the Turks had cut off, by their presence added to the fury of the soldiers of Baldwin, and they immediately fell upon the Turks who remained in the city, and massacred them all without pity.

In the midst of these scenes of violence, Baldwin received an unexpected reinforcement. A fleet was seen approaching the coast full sail. The soldiers of Baldwin, who expected to have to deal with more infidels, hastened fully armed to the shore. As the fleet drew near, they interrogated the crew of the first ship. The crew replied in the Frank language. Soon they learnt that these, whom they had taken to be Mussulmans, were pirates from the ports of Flanders and Holland. These corsairs had for ten years cruised in the Mediterranean, where they had made themselves remarkable by their exploits, and still more frequently by their piracies. Upon hearing of the expedition of the Christians of the West, they had made sail for Syria and Palestine. On the invitation of the Crusaders, they joyfully entered the port of Tarsus. Their chief, Guymer, who was a Boulonnais, recognised Baldwin, the son of his ancient master, and promised with his companions to serve under him. They all took the cross, and with it the oath to share the glory and the labours of the holy war.

Aided by this new reinforcement, and leaving a strong garrison in the city of Tarsus, Baldwin resumed his march, following the route of Tancred, and soon came in sight of Malmistra,[89] of which the Italians had just taken possession. The latter, on seeing Baldwin, were persuaded that he was come to dispute their new conquest, and prepared to repulse force by force. When Tancred endeavoured to appease his irritated soldiers, murmurs arose against him. They accused him of having forgotten the honour of chivalry, his moderation being in their eyes nothing but a shameful weakness. The effect that such reproaches must have had upon a spirit like that of Tancred, may be easily imagined. The moment they suspected his courage, he no longer made an effort to restrain his anger, and swore to avenge his wrongs in the blood of his rival. He himself led the soldiers, and rushed out of the town at their head to encounter the troops of Baldwin. They at once came to blows. On both sides courage was equal; but the fury of revenge doubled the efforts of the Italians. The soldiers of Baldwin had the advantage in numbers. They fought with the animosity peculiar to civil wars; but at length the troops of Tancred were forced to give way; they left many of their companions in the hands of their adversaries and upon the field of battle, and re-entered the town deploring their defeat in silence.

Night restored calm to their excited spirits. The soldiers of Tancred had acknowledged the superiority of the Flemings, and believed, as blood had flowed, they had no longer any outrage to avenge, whilst the followers of Baldwin remembered that the men whom they had conquered were Christians. On the morrow nothing was heard on either side but the voice of humanity and religion. The two chiefs at the same time sent deputies, and in order to avoid an appearance of asking for peace, both attributed their overtures to the inspiration of Heaven. They swore to forget their quarrels, and embraced in sight of the soldiers, who reproached themselves with the sad effects of their animosity, and longed to expiate the blood of their brothers by new exploits against the Turks.

Tancred with his troop departing from Malmistra, passed in triumph along the coasts of Cilicia, and penetrated as far as Alexandretta, of which he easily took possession. In proportion as he made himself dreaded by his enemies, he made himself the more beloved by his companions. When he rejoined the Christian army covered with glory and loaded with booty, he heard all around him nothing but praises of his moderation and valour. The presence of Baldwin, who had preceded him, on the contrary, only excited murmurs, as they attributed to him the death of so many Christian soldiers. Godfrey loudly blamed the ambition and avarice of his brother. But caring little for these reproaches, Baldwin yielded to his rival, without pain, the suffrages of the army, and preferred a principality to the love and esteem of the Crusaders; and fortune soon offered him an opportunity of realizing his ambitious projects.

During the siege of Nice, an Armenian prince named Pancratius had come to join the Christian army. In his youth he had been king of northern Iberia. Driven from his kingdom by his own subjects, and for a length of time a prisoner at Constantinople, he had followed the Crusaders in the hope of re-conquering his states. He had particularly attached himself to the fortunes of Baldwin, whose aspiring character he understood, and whom he hoped to associate in his designs. He spoke to him continually of the rich provinces which extended along the two shores of the Euphrates. These provinces, he said, were inhabited by a great number of Christians, and the Crusaders had but to present themselves there to make themselves masters of them. These discourses inflamed the ambition of Baldwin, who resolved a second time to quit the main army of the Christians, and to go to the banks of the Euphrates, to conquer a country of such boasted wealth.

He had just lost his wife, Gundechilde, who had accompanied him to the crusade, and who was buried with great pomp by the Christians. This loss did not stop him in the execution of his projects. As he was not beloved in the Christian army, when he was ready to set out no leader was willing to join him, and several even of his own soldiers refused to accompany him. He could only take with him from a thousand to fifteen hundred foot-soldiers, a troop despised in the army, and two hundred horsemen, seduced by the hopes of pillage. But nothing could abate his ardour, and as the chiefs of the crusade had decided in a council that nobody should be allowed to withdraw from the standard of the army, he set out the day before this decision was published in the camp of the Christians.[90] At the head of his little army he advanced into Armenia, finding no enemy able to impede his march. Consternation reigned among the Turks, and the Christians, everywhere eager to throw off the yoke of the Mussulmans, became powerful auxiliaries to the Crusaders.

Turbessel and Ravendel were the first cities that opened their gates to the fortunate conqueror. This conquest soon produced a separation between Baldwin and Pancratius, who both entertained the same projects of ambition; but this difference did not at all delay the march of the brother of Godfrey. The Crusader prince opposed violence to cunning; he threatened to treat his rival as an enemy, and thus drove him away from the theatre of his victories, Baldwin wanted neither guide nor assistance in a country of which the inhabitants all flocked out to meet him. As he pursued his march, fame carried his exploits into the most distant places; the intelligence of his conquests preceded him beyond the Euphrates, and reached even the city of Edessa.

This city, so celebrated in the times of the primitive church, was the metropolis of Mesopotamia. As it had escaped the invasion of the Turks, all the Christians of that neighbourhood had, with their riches, taken refuge within its walls. A Greek prince, named Theodore,[91] deputed by the emperor of Constantinople, was the governor of it, and maintained his power by paying tribute to the Saracens. The approach and the victories of the Crusaders produced the most lively sensations in the city of Edessa. The people and the governor joined in soliciting the aid of Baldwin. The bishop and twelve of the principal inhabitants were deputed to meet the Crusader prince. They described to him the wealth of Mesopotamia, the devotion of their fellow-citizens to the cause of Jesus Christ, and conjured him to rescue a Christian city from the domination of the infidels. Baldwin readily yielded to their prayers, and immediately prepared to cross the Euphrates.

He had the good fortune to escape the Turks, who were waiting for him on his passage, and without drawing a sword he arrived in the territories of Edessa. As he had placed garrisons in the cities which had fallen into his power, he had no greater force with him than one hundred horsemen. As soon as he drew near to the city, the whole population came out to meet him, bearing branches of olive and singing hymns. It must have been a curious spectacle to behold so small a number of warriors, surrounded by an immense multitude, who implored their support and proclaimed them their liberators. They were welcomed with so much enthusiasm, that the prince or governor of Edessa, who was not beloved by the people, took umbrage, and began to see in them enemies more to be dreaded by him than the Saracens. In order to attach their chief to himself, and engage him to support his authority, he offered him great riches. But the ambitious Baldwin, whether because he expected to obtain more from the affections of the people and the fortune of his arms, or that he considered it disgraceful to place himself in the pay of a foreign prince, refused with contempt the offers of the governor of Edessa, and even threatened to retire and abandon the city. The inhabitants, who dreaded his departure, assembled in a tumultuous manner, and implored him with loud cries to remain among them; the governor himself made new efforts to detain the Crusaders, and to interest them in his cause. As Baldwin had made it pretty clearly understood that he would never defend states that were not his own, the prince of Edessa, who was old and childless, determined to adopt him for his son and nominate him his successor. The ceremony of the adoption was performed in the presence of the Crusaders and the inhabitants. According to the custom of the Orientals,[92] the Greek prince made Baldwin pass between his shirt and his naked skin, and kissed him as a sign of alliance and paternity. The aged wife of the governor repeated the same ceremony, and from that time Baldwin, considered as their son and heir, neglected nothing for the defence of a city which was to belong to him.

An Armenian prince, named Constantine, who governed a province in the neighbourhood of Mount Taurus, had also come to the assistance of Edessa. Baldwin, seconded by this useful auxiliary, and followed by his own horsemen and the troops of Theodore, took the field, in order to attack the nearest Turkish cities. He defeated the troops of the emir Baldoukh in several encounters, and forced them to retire into the city of Samosata. The Christians approached the place, pillaged the suburbs, and the houses of the neighbourhood, without meeting with the least resistance; but as they were engaged in dividing their booty, they were attacked unexpectedly by the infidels and routed. After having lost two thousand lighting men, they returned to Edessa, where the news of their defeat spread the greatest consternation.

Misunderstandings soon broke out between Theodore and Baldwin, who mutually reproached each other with their reverses. The Edessenians, who had declared for the Crusader prince, would not hear of any other master, and were not long in satisfying his impatience to reign. They forgot that Theodore, by his courage and skill, had maintained their independence in the centre of a country constantly exposed to the invasions of the Mussulmans. They accused him of having burdened his subjects with imposts, to satisfy the avidity of the Turks, and with having employed the power of infidels to oppress a Christian people. They formed, says Matthew of Edessa, a plot against his life, of which Baldwin was not ignorant. Warned of the danger which threatened him, Theodore retired into the citadel, which commanded the city, and placed no reliance on anything but force to defend himself against the seditious.

Upon this a most furious tumult was created among the people. The enraged multitude flew to arms, and pillaged the houses of the inhabitants who were suspected of being the partisans of Theodore. They swore to treat him as a declared enemy. They attacked the citadel, some beating in the gates, and others scaling the walls. Theodore seeing that his enemies were masters of one part of the ramparts, no longer endeavoured to defend himself, but proposed to capitulate. He agreed to abandon the place, and to renounce the government of Edessa, requesting permission to retire, with his family, to the city of Melitene. This proposition was accepted with joy; the peace was signed, and the inhabitants of Edessa swore upon the cross and the Evangelists to respect the conditions of it.

On the following day, whilst the governor was preparing for his departure, a fresh sedition broke out in the city. The factious repented of having allowed a prince whom they had so cruelly outraged, to live. New accusations were brought against him. It was said that he had only signed the peace with perfidious intentions. The fury of the people soon rose above all bounds, and a thousand voices demanded the death of Theodore. They penetrated, tumultuously, into the citadel, seized the aged governor in the midst of his family, and precipitated him from the heights of the ramparts. His bleeding body was dragged through the streets by the multitude, who prided themselves upon having murdered an old man as much as if they had gained a victory over the infidels.

Baldwin, who may, at least, be accused of not having defended his adoptive father, was soon surrounded by all the people of Edessa, who offered him the government of the city. He refused it at first, “but in the end,” says an old historian, “they combated his objections with so many reasons, that they forced him to consent, and established him instead of the other.” Baldwin was proclaimed liberator and master of Edessa. Seated on a blood-stained throne, and in constant dread of the fickle nature of the people, he soon inspired his subjects with as much fear as his enemies. Whilst the seditious trembled before him, he extended the limits of his territories. He purchased the city of Samosata with the treasures of his predecessor, and obtained possession of several other cities by force of arms. As fortune favoured him in everything, the loss even, which he had lately experienced, of his wife, Gundechilde, promoted his projects of aggrandizement. He espoused the niece of an Armenian prince, and by that new alliance he extended his possessions as far as Mount Taurus. All Mesopotamia, with both shores of the Euphrates, acknowledged his authority, and Asia then beheld a French knight reigning without dispute over the richest provinces of the ancient kingdom of Assyria.

Baldwin thought no more of the deliverance of Jerusalem, but gave all his attention to the defence and aggrandizement of his states.[93] Many knights, dazzled by such a rapid fortune, hastened to Edessa, to increase the army and the court of the new monarch. The advantages which resulted to the Crusaders from the foundation of this new state, have made their historians forget that they were the fruit of injustice and violence. The principality of Edessa served as a check upon the Turks and the Saracens, and was, to the period of the second crusade, the principal bulwark of the power of the Christians in the East.