Count Raymond, who expressed a wish to die in the Holy Land, advanced by way of northern Italy, thence to the Slavic wilderness. Ahead and behind, plotting to attack, lay companies of Petchenegs, Cumans, and other cruel savages. Brutish people fled like deer when the Provençals arrived but followed at a distance to rob and murder any who loitered. Raymond captured six of these brigands. While returning with them to the army he found himself endangered. To horrify and delay those who pursued him, beseeching the help of God to deliver him from that accursed place, he ordered the hands of his captives mutilated, their noses chopped off, eyes gouged out. By this stratagem he contrived to escape.
For many weeks these Provençals wandered across Sclavonia, marching through clouds so thick they could be felt and pushed aside. Finally they got down to the seacoast where they expected to be safe. Here they met envoys from Constantinople bearing assurances of hospitality but the Petchenegs and others refused to disperse. Indeed, while acknowledging the sovereignty of Emperor Alexius they continued to harry the Franks. Prince Rainard was slain and his brother fatally wounded, both noble princes. Bishop Adhémar, having ridden his mule some distance from camp to pitch a tent, was attacked by savages who dragged him from the saddle, brutally beat him and robbed him. His life was spared through the power of Almighty God because so great a leader was necessary to the pilgrimage.
At Thessalonika he fell ill so there he rested with several knights for protection while the host advanced to a fortified town called Russa. Because these citizens proved stubborn and difficult Count Raymond ordered his men to break through the wall.
Toulouse! Toulouse! they shouted, doing as they were bid, and quickly the town surrendered.
Next, at Rodosto, shouting the war cry, they slew many soldiers and took some booty. Here they met emissaries Raymond had despatched to Constantinople. Alexius welcomed them, pressed gifts upon them, and gladly awaited his arrival, said these emissaries. Also, he was urged to hurry forward because Count Robert of Flanders and other princes had need of his counsel. Raymond therefore advanced with a few men, leaving the army behind, and came to the honey-colored walls of Constantinople. Alexius greeted him with honor and requested him to swear allegiance, thus making Raymond a vassal.
Count Raymond answered that he would respect the honor and life of the emperor, but said he had not journeyed such a distance to fight on behalf of any lord save Jesus Christ.
Godfrey de Bouillon, duke of Lorraine, arrived fitly clad, his gold and purple mantle edged with ermine and marten and similar fur white as snow. Alexius greeted him with the kiss of peace, whereupon the proud duke with his yellow beard went down on one knee.
I hear thou art the mightiest prince of thy land, said Alexius. I hear thou art a man to be trusted utterly. Thus I take thee for my adopted son. In thee I place my trust.
Next came Bohemond from Taranto, leader of those Normans who in times past wrested Sicily from Muslim hands. Never had the Byzantine court beheld such a prince. He stood almost a cubit taller than other men, which excited both admiration and fear. It appeared to Princess Anna that he stooped somewhat, not through weakness of the spine but a slight malformation present from birth. The skin of his body she thought strangely white, his features mottled red, tawny hair clipped at the ears so it did not lap against his shoulders like that of other Franks, his chin shaved smooth as marble and his eyes Celtic blue, crested with passion. His dignity she thought half spoilt by the terror he inspired, his glance wild and hard. In the way he stood she found something obdurate, savage, his arrogance manifest. His laughter sounded like a threat. She called his mind supple and rich in subterfuge, his speech calculated, his rejoinders ambiguous like one who meant to seize an empire if he could. In him, she wrote, love and courage stood armed, anxious for combat. She judged the natural gifts of Bohemond superior to those of other men, surpassed only by her father.
She mentions a certain Count Raoul who boorishly sat on the imperial throne. Alexius afterward retained this haughty knight, by means of an interpreter asking who he was. I am a Frank, said he, of most high and noble lineage. In my country is a shrine at the crossroads where all betake themselves who would display valor in personal combat. There I went and for a long time waited, but none chose to measure swords with me. To which the emperor replied that he would have his chance. Indeed, this malapert noble soon bled out his life on Turkish soil.
Anna did not set down what she knew about these Franks until years afterward when she was an old woman locked in a convent at her brother’s command. I think with her husband Nicephorus Briennius she fomented some intrigue that was the cause of banishment. I have heard she tried clumsily to assassinate her brother. Whatever the fact, she was no more than fourteen when the Franks arrived. To her eyes they made up a violent host, impulsive, grasping, barbaric men followed by pale women, children, numberless animals, and quaint equipment. She named them Celts, albeit their homelands varied. Each leader she thought a count, whether duke or knight or baron or pilgrim of a different rank, confusing Longobards with Provençals or Flemings. She and other Greeks felt disdain mingled with hatred toward these intrepid servants of Christ who journeyed five hundred leagues.
As to the emperor, what sifts through ancient narratives? A man broad and squat, his curly beard glistening with oil, his gestures courtly, dark eyes alert with malice. Through some deficiency he could not quite enunciate the eighteenth letter, which is to say, R. He thought himself emperor of all Romans, paying homage to one who founded the city where he ruled, Constantine. Only when surrounded by torches did he expose himself to the people, gowned in the royal purple of dead Caesars. From the cross surmounting his crown dripped strands of jewels, from his shoulders loops of pearls to attest his radiance, attesting the radiance of Jesus Christ since he was Christo Autocrator. Yet he was bone and flesh and blood. During a game of polo an exceeding fat general, by name Taticius, fell against his leg. The injury did not seem important but later he got the gout. Owing to the abundance of my sins, he was heard to say, I deserve to suffer. And if he murmured with pain he quickly made the sign of the Cross. Wicked One, he would say, addressing the devil, a curse on you!
Turks made sport of his infirmity, believing it an excuse for cowardice. They thought it ripe for comic drama. Some would play at being servants or slaves while Kilij Arslan played physician. Shouting with laughter they would put the wretched emperor to bed and drunkenly attend his needs.
Nor did Franks show much grace. They petitioned him without respite, wanting this or that, nor limited their speeches by the water clock as did orators of times past. Shamelessly they invaded the palace trailed by subordinates, making a lengthy queue, each after something for his pocket. Alexius listened patiently to these requests. At dusk he would limp to his apartment. Still they followed, brisk with avarice.
Princess Anna wrote that he was expert at discerning the grain of a man, at penetrating secrets of the mind. Thus, when Bohemond arrived, Alexius inquired about the journey and had food brought to him. Bohemond gave the food to lackeys, neither tasting it nor touching it with a fingertip, and next day asked if any fell sick. Alexius tried him further. He ordered a room in the palace precincts set aside, stuffed with extravagant riches, brocade, silk, sumptuous clothes, hammered gold cups and urns. Jewels and coins so littered the floor that one could not walk through without trampling them. And the door opened suddenly. Ah! cried Bohemond. If I acquired such wealth I would be the lord of many lands! He was told that everything belonged to him, a gift from Alexius. Chronicles relate that he felt overjoyed but afterward changed his mind, claiming he was insulted. Then he regretted his pride, changing like a sea polyp. For this Princess Anna scorned him, writing that he as much surpassed in deceit all the Franks who visited Constantinople as he was inferior to them in wealth.
Fulcher de Chartres, who was present, declares that the emperor excelled at caution. We could not visit, says he, but in little companies of five or six, at hourly intervals. As one group of p
ilgrims emerged, another entered to pray in the churches. All because Alexius feared mischief.
What of those emperors who preceded him? Ghosts sunk in pravity. Here was Monomakh, surpassing fat, held upright in the saddle by slaves to either side, who bestowed his diadem and purple mantle on the jester, who endured the gout as did Alexius but called it an excellent thing since otherwise he would squander himself among women. He showed his mistress to the populace, gold serpents entwining her naked arms. Here also his aged consort Zoë wallowing on carpets in senile lust, clutching jeweled icons to her flabby breast. Here, too, Emperor Michael entranced by races at the hippodrome while a beacon winked ominous news from the Asian shore. When high office falls to decadent rulers who shall measure corruption? The city is called by some a mindless old hag eternally renewing herself, magically becoming a maiden lustrous with gems.
Why should not rude Franks be dazzled by Constantinople? Here lay the severed head of John the Baptist in a golden casket. Here was the rod of Moses. The crown of thorns. The cerement of our Lord. Five drops of His precious blood. These and other relics of high significance might be seen within the walls. Here were lamps of light for those who believe.
Toward the end of April in that year of providential grace 1097 orders were given to embark, to cross the Arm of Saint George. Taticius, whose clumsiness at polo caused the emperor’s gout, went with the Franks. He had lost his nose during some battle and thereafter, much ashamed, wore a golden nose. Or it may be as William of Tyre relates that his nostrils had been slit, sign of an evil nature, mangled in virtue, treacherous, chosen to serve as guide because he knew the land. The emperor would depend on his cunning. Taticius therefore accompanied the living host like a snake among eels, a goose among swans, reporting privately to Alexius.
In the legions altogether were six hundred thousand of both sexes afoot or mounted, one hundred thousand cuirassed knights.
They crossed the strait and proceeded to Nicomedia without opposition. From here they looked south to Nicaea, home of Kilij Arslan. By chance the Red Lion was two hundred leagues distant fighting insubordinate princes. When he learned of the Christian army he sent word to Nicaea, telling his people not to be afraid. These invaders have traveled so far, said he with contempt, that even their horses stumble.
Duke Godfrey put three thousand men to work with swords and hatchets because the road was narrow. These faithful servants of our Lord erected crosses of iron and wood to encourage those who would follow. Here and there on the plain, in the forest, they discovered little cemeteries where pilgrims of the hermit’s army lay buried, a fruitless end.
Duke Godfrey was first to view the walls of Nicaea. One by one here came the barons. Guy de Possessa. Bohemond. Tancred. Roger de Barneville. Robert the Fleming. Bishop Adhémar. They encamped, wondering how to attack Nicaea, which could not be surrounded because it stood at the edge of a lake. Nor could the inhabitants be stopped from going out to collect wood, fodder, grain, whatever they needed. But the city must be taken since it was situated between Constantinople and Jerusalem. Logs were hauled from the forest to make battering rams. Perriers, mangonels, ballistas, and similar engines were constructed.
When all seemed ready they undertook the siege. Stones flew at the wall and over the wall. Defenders answered with fire, stones, poisoned arrows. Men on both sides died groaning, pierced, crushed, bleeding, invoking their God. Count Raymond set a company of men to work burrowing at the foundation while archers defended them from Turks overhead. These miners pried out stones and dragged them away, replacing them with wood beams that were set afire. If Satan’s disciples managed to injure a pilgrim beside the wall they let down iron hooks to catch him and hoist him up where they would strip off his armor, mutilate him, and throw down pieces of his body at his friends.
Anon the wall crumbled but those inside hastily bolstered it. And here came enemies rushing from the gate with ropes to tie up captives. By the grace of God all were slain, their heads tossed back into the city. Now the wife of Kilij Arslan was at Nicaea and grew exceedingly terrified in the manner of women and thought to escape. Taking her children and her maids she embarked. However the Franks wisely had posted guards in little boats, so they caught her and brought her to the barons.
On the sixteenth of May during a sharp engagement many Turks were killed. Archbishop William of Tyre asserts that one thousand infidel heads were delivered to Emperor Alexius, a gift that heartily pleased him and moved him to reward the barons with silk garments and not a little money.
Day after day some Turk of gigantic stature stood insolently on the battlements. Using a bow of prodigious length he wrought havoc among the living host. Christian arrows launched toward him would drop at his feet, thus word spread that here was the Arch Fiend against whom no mortal could prevail. Duke Godfrey then took a crossbow and loosed a bolt at his heart. Without a cry the pagan fell dead. Anguished groans could be heard inside the walls. Shouts of vindication arose outside.
Deus adjuva! Deus adjuva!
Yet they were unable to subjugate Nicaea. They met in council, after which they sent to Emperor Alexius requesting ships. Presently here came a little fleet, which cast anchor at Civetot, two leagues distant. The Franks lashed wagons together according to the size of each vessel and with the help of ropes, using men and horses, drew them up on wagons and during the night hauled them to the lake. By this stratagem Nicaea was encircled and would have been forced to surrender. But just when the Franks prepared to attack they saw the blue and gold standard of Alexius floating above the city. Unknown to them, the emperor had made a pact with these Turks. Nicaea would submit to him if he spared the citizens. Alexius arranged this not for the inhabitants whose lives meant less to him than the lives of ten thousand cats, but to regain control of provinces along the coast. Further, when the wife of Kilij Arslan was delivered to him at Constantinople he released her. By doing so he ingratiated himself with the Red Lion. Which is to say, when the hour seemed ripe he might more easily call upon these Turks to battle the Franks. Was ever a more devious sovereign?
Those who had fought to capture the city felt betrayed. They wished to loot Nicaea and make bloody sport of the citizens. Alexius tried to placate them, saying he would give the barons equivalent treasure if they would return to Constantinople and receive it. Further, he said, those who had not sworn fealty might do so at that time. Count Raymond would not. He who vowed to fight for no lord save Jesus Christ chose to stay at Nicaea until the army might continue along the road to Jerusalem.
As for Tancred, he went reluctantly, seduced by the promise of wealth. Princess Anna saw him there and later wrote that he was a spirited, haughty youth. When asked to swear loyalty he pretended indifference. But then, glancing toward a pavilion behind the emperor, he said he would take the oath if he were given such a tent filled with money. Whereupon a member of the court, George Palaeologus, roughly shoved him. Tancred drew his sword. Alexius himself intervened, rising from the throne. Lord Bohemond also intervened, rebuking his nephew, saying it was improper to threaten a relative of the emperor. They say Tancred felt ashamed because he had acted like a man who was drunk. Then he took the oath.
Comte Stephen de Blois spurned the emperor’s request. This noble lord had married Adela, daughter of William the Conqueror, and observed in a letter to her that every prince excepting himself and Raymond hurried off to congratulate the emperor on a splendid victory. Alexius receives them with much affection, he wrote, and bestows upon them opulent mantles, jewelry, horses, gold and silver coins. When he learned that I remained at Nicaea to defend the city he was most grateful, esteeming my service more to be treasured than a mountain of gold. From Nicaea we march to Jerusalem in five times seven days unless the city of Antioch withstands us.
As things turned out, Stephen wrote better than he knew.
Before all had been settled, governance of Nicaea and other matters, the Turks let go some captives, including a nun from the convent of Saint Mary at Trier who claimed
she was with the hermit’s army. In bitter terms she lamented her fate, how she was abducted, forced into wicked union not only by a particular Turk but others all at once with scarcely a pause. Tearfully she appealed to the barons for help in purification. Bishop Adhémar counseled her and she gained absolution because the defilement was against her will. But who shall bridle a shiftless mind? Here came word from the Turk inflamed by this nun’s inestimable comeliness and he was full of coaxing, expert at cunning lewdness, imploring her to come back, offering gifts, vowing to become Christian himself if she would return. So what did she do but rush off to her filthy bridegroom and their abominable marriage. As to her reason, God knows, save that nothing but this Turk might slake her lust.
Toward the end of June, hearts set upon Antioch, the living host marched away from Nicaea. And since they had embarked on a holy expedition it seemed the Turks could not oppose them, for this would oppose the will of our Lord.
Anon they came to a marsh thick with reeds close by the city of Dorylaeum and there were Turks in ambush. Kilij Arslan had gathered three hundred thousand fighting men captained by such redoubtable emirs as Lachin, Caradig, Amirai, Boldagis, and Mirath. At sunrise here came these Turks down the hill chattering, whistling, launching clouds of javelins and poisoned arrows. As soon as the first rank of Turks emptied their quivers they made way for a second rank. Then another. Another. Various high lords had not arrived. Duke Godfrey, Count Raymond, and Hugh Vermandois were misdirected at a fork in the road.
Deus Lo Volt! Page 3
