It is evident that the sun, moon, and other planets with all their heavenly motion incite men to behave as they do. Yet these do not control or direct the will and desire of any man. Each is expected to chart and govern his course. But in extremity what shall he do? Radulph de Caen tells how starving pilgrims sliced meat from the buttocks of dead Turks as though they were oxen. Also, corpses dredged from the swamp, members chopped off to put in stewpots. Heathen children impaled on spits to roast. Albeit every man is expected to chart and govern his course, in extremity what shall he do? During the pontificate of His Holiness Innocent some pilgrim called Robert was caught by Turks. Anon, captives with children were told to butcher them for food. It is said this pilgrim, urged by hunger, did kill his child and eat the body. Anon, Turks bade him slay his good wife to eat. But with her flesh served up, Robert could not put it in his mouth. Afterward, having made his way to Europe, he sought absolution. Then did His Holiness Innocent assign penance, that among other deserts Robert the pilgrim should not remarry so long as he lived, nor again eat meat.
Now concerning Tafurs, abominable to man and God alike, these villains devoured human flesh not to assuage grumbling bellies but proclaimed it new manna that would sustain them till they entered the promised land of milk and honey. Therefore they sliced up pagan corpses to share with brethren a hideous sacrifice, thinking thus to reach the heavenly abode of God. And while the living host encamped at Maarat the bishop of Orange gained his just reward. So ended that providential year.
Before setting out to Jerusalem, for which they had pledged their lives, Count Raymond gave orders to burn Maarat. Raymond himself departed from Maarat barefoot, having vowed to approach the city of Jesus humbly.
Some few leagues south the host encamped by Hosn al-Akrad. And here came envoys from the learned emir of Tripoli, celebrated for prudence if not courage. He invited Count Raymond to discuss the conditions requisite for truce and friendship. He proposed that Count Raymond send ambassadors to make arrangements, bringing with them a banner of Toulouse, which might float above the city. This seemed good to Raymond, who sent three knights. But the magnificence of Tripoli addled the wits of these ambassadors. When they got back they counseled Raymond to besiege nearby Archas. By doing so, they explained, the emir of Tripoli will grow alarmed and will pay as much tribute as you wish.
Unwisely the host laid siege to Archas, which had been constructed by Aracaeus, son of Canaan, grandson of Noah. Because the pilgrims had grown proud they were unable to subjugate this stronghold. Sergeants proved indolent and useless. Many nobles relinquished the ghost, including Pontius of Balazun.
Lord Engelram, son of the Comte de Saint Paul, ascended to glory at Maarat, yet during the siege of Archas he manifested himself to Anselme de Ribemont.
How is it, Anselme wondered, that you whom I saw dying on the field of battle now stand before me filled with life?
You must know that those who fight in the name of our Lord do not die, said Engelram.
Whence comes this radiance surrounding you? said Anselme.
For answer the youth pointed upward. And when Anselme lifted his eyes he beheld a palace sparkling with crystal and diamond. There do I dwell, said Engelram. From that mansion derives the splendor that astonishes you. But a far greater dwelling has been provided for you. Tomorrow we shall meet. Farewell.
At these words Lord Engelram faded from sight. Anselme assured his comrades it was not a dream since he had been awake. They were amazed and speechless because they saw him unhurt, glorious in manhood. Next morning he sent for priests to confess his negligences and take the sacrament. Hours later the Turks sallied forth. Anselme de Ribemont went out from his tent to battle, sword in hand. A stone from a Turkish sling crushed his forehead. Thus perished a valiant knight holding up his gauntlet to God. His bones rest near Archas.
Now those suspicions concerning Bartholomew that took root in Antioch had surged beyond control, entangling adherents of Count Raymond with adherents of Bohemond. One believed in the holiness of the lance, another did not. Some argued openly what many privately thought, that Bartholomew had through sleight of hand buried and extracted a rusty bit of iron. All agreed that he who instigated the difficulty should put an end to it. Thus, Arnulf Malecorne, chaplain to the duke of Normandy, called upon the servant to undergo trial by fire.
I beg and wish that a large fire be made, Bartholomew replied angrily. I will pass through the flames while carrying the lance. I will pass through uninjured if this truly is the lance that wounded our Lord. If not, I will suffer.
It was thought this trial should occur on the day our Lord was pierced in the side. Accordingly two windrows of olive branches were heaped up stretching six times the length of a man’s body and a narrow passage between. On the appointed day countless pilgrims gathered, including numerous priests with bare feet. And when the fire blazed vehemently Raymond d’Agiles, who was chaplain to Count Raymond of Toulouse, held forth.
If Almighty God hath addressed this man, and if blessed Andrew hath revealed to him the lance, let him pass through unharmed. But if it be otherwise, let him suffer with the lance he carries.
Ancient documents say this olive wood burned so hot it scorched the air for thirty cubits. A bird flying overhead plunged headlong to death as testified by Ebrard the priest, by a son of William the Good, and by an esteemed knight from Béziers, William Maluspuer. Many others witnessed the falling bird. But then, as now, three credible witnesses suffice for any cause.
Bartholomew knelt before the bishop of Albara, calling upon God to verify that he had seen Jesus Christ face to face. When he was given the lance, wrapped in embroidered cloth, he stepped boldly toward the fire and entered without hesitation, pausing just once amid the flames, and emerged shouting with joy. Then a host of pilgrims rushed forward, each hoping to snatch a thread from his tunic. They overwhelmed him and trampled his backbone and he would have breathed out his soul but for a knight who pushed through the crowd to save him. This knight carried him to the house of chaplain Raymond. There he was asked why he paused in the fire, to which he replied that the Lord had met him, took him by the hand, and spoke.
Since thou wert afraid and doubted the finding of the lance when Saint Andrew first offered it, thou shalt not pass through unhurt. Neither shalt thou see hell.
Look therefore, Bartholomew admonished those attending him, and find how I am burnt.
They looked and observed one of his legs scorched. Others came to inspect his face and head and members, and when they found that he was whole they glorified our Lord. They marveled, saying to one another that an arrow could not pass through such a fire. They marveled to see the embroidered cloth undamaged. They said among themselves that the Lord who delivered Bartholomew would assuredly protect them from Saracens. The knight William Maluspuer avowed that he saw a man wearing priestly garb, save for a robe folded back across his head, advance into the flames as though leading Bartholomew. The pilgrims wondered at this. They snatched up glowing coals, fiery brands, ashes, and it is said that various good deeds worked through these relics afterward.
Concerning Bartholomew, although he had been vigorous and robust, twelve days later he succumbed and was buried at the place where he underwent trial, giving up his body to worms near the citadel of Archas. Some thought he died from the pernicious effect of fire while attempting to validate a falsehood, others that he died from injuries caused by so many pressing against him in a transport of devotion. As for the lance, Count Raymond ever afterward carried it about in a jeweled casket guarded by priests.
Now the emir of Tripoli, informed through spies of Frankish discord, thought to himself he would not pay tribute. Who are these Christians? he asked himself. How great is their strength? Behold, they camp but four leagues distant and do not assault me. Let them come hither. Let them demonstrate their skill. Why should I become tributary to those whose faces I have not seen, whose bravery I doubt?
This being reported to the host, they talked furi
ously. See what we have accomplished by quarreling! The emir of Tripoli blasphemes God while we are despised! Therefore all agreed that Tripoli should be attacked.
However, the people of this city are content to remain inside if threatened because they are nearly surrounded and protected by the sea while a capacious aqueduct delivers water from land. According to the Gesta, numerous Turks and Arabs discovered outside the walls were sent flying or quickly tasted the Christian blade. So much pagan blood flowed that water in the aqueduct turned red, frothed and bubbled with headless corpses of those who did not believe. Indeed, the cisterns of Tripoli changed color. We are told how the scornful emir, thinking his numbers adequate, sent forth his knights to confront the living host. Out from Tripoli they rode, thrusting from the gate like a stag thrusting his antlers, but our Lord cast fear against them. How many wicked lives ended sharply may not be known. They were choked by sinfulness.
This day, said the Frankish princes, have they met us and learned what we are. Tomorrow, because we have acquired knowledge of roads and fortification, the emir will learn to pay tribute.
Next day no Turk ventured outside, albeit the emir sent word. If the siege were lifted he would supply food, garments, horses, fifteen thousand gold coins, and he would provide a market and would release every Christian captive. This seemed good to the princes. Besides, all were anxious to pursue the journey.
According to chaplain Raymond, they inquired how best to reach Jerusalem and learned of three roads. Inland through Damascus was level, with food enough, but they would not find water for two days. They might go south through the mountains of Lebanon with safety, yet this was very hard on camels and sumpter beasts. Or they might proceed south along the coast but would find such narrow passes that fifty or a hundred Saracens might hold the road against all mankind. They learned also of Christians who lived among the mountains close by the city of Tyre, or as many call it Sur, whence they were called Surians. These people had managed the land for centuries until dispossessed by Turks. Now they were prohibited from observing Christian law. If by the grace of God one persisted he must give up his sons for circumcision or be killed and the mother of his child corrupted. These Turks riddled holy images with arrows, gouged out eyes, overthrew altars. If some true believer kept an image of our Lord in his home it was flung down into the dust, broken, mutilated. Christian boys were sold to brothels, their sisters exchanged for wine.
How shall we reach the Holy City? Count Raymond wondered.
In the gospel of Saint Peter, the Surians replied, it is written that if you are meant to take Jerusalem you will pass along the coast, however impossible that seems to us.
On the sixteenth of May, therefore, the living host marched south from Tripoli and came at length into Palestine, to Caesarea, in which city Saint Peter once preached at the house of the centurion Cornelius. Also in this city Herod Agrippa wretchedly gave up the ghost. And while they were encamped they saw a hawk attack a pigeon that dropped wounded to the earth. A silver tube had been fastened to one of its legs. Inside was a scroll with writing.
To the Lord of Caesarea the Emir of Akka sends greetings. A pack of quarrelsome dogs hath in disorderly fashion passed by here. As thou lovest Allah, send word to other citadels and fortresses that every injury be done to them.
Thus, God in heaven by means of the very birds had chosen to warn and protect these travelers during the arduous journey.
Until the thirtieth of May the host remained at Caesarea in order that Whitsun might be celebrated, after which they continued south to Ramlah, eight leagues from the Holy City. Ramlah they found deserted except for Samaritans. Advocates of the devil had fled after burning the White Mosque so it could not be torn apart and the timber used to make siege engines. Under the marble floor of this mosque lay the spotless body of Saint George who happily embraced martyrdom. The Franks purified this place of unholy worship, consecrated it anew, made it a bishopric dedicated to our Lord. Some now argued they should not proceed to Jerusalem but go instead to Egypt and capture Alexandria and Babylon and kingdoms all around. For if we besiege Jerusalem but do not have sufficient water, they argued, we will accomplish nothing. But others claimed it would be folly to venture toward unknown and distant regions since they had scarce fifteen hundred knights. Let us hold our way, they said. Let us trust the Messiah to provide for His servants. Accordingly they loaded up camels and oxen to continue marching. Yet of that multitude which besieged Nicaea two years earlier, less than thirty thousand remained.
Presently they reached the castle of Emmaus where a bold plan was conceived. Tancred and Baldwin du Bourg rode ahead. Before daybreak they passed Jerusalem and rode on to Bethlehem. Greeks and Syrians who lived there at first mistook them for Turkish cavalry, perhaps Egyptians who had come to defend the Holy City, but when it became clear from crosses on their mantles that here were Frankish knights the citizens of Bethlehem wept for joy. They held up rosaries and banners and crosses. They kissed the hands of Tancred’s followers and sang hymns, praying that the hour of deliverance had arrived when Christianity would prevail against those who threatened it.
These intrepid Franks made haste to visit the basilica of Our Lady where they offered supplications. They visited the place where Christ was born. Tancred by himself rode two leagues nearer Jerusalem and dismounted on a height from which he could see the Holy City. To his eyes and within his mind surely it appeared as it once appeared to Saint John the Divine, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of God, more luminous than crystal, within a mighty wall having twelve gates where angels waited. Chalcedony, amethyst, emerald, jasper, topaz, of such were the foundations garnished, all manner of precious stone, and twelve gates made of pearl. And the streets were gold. And the city had no need of the sun nor of the moon, for it was lightened by the glory of God. Tancred is thought by many to have stood on the Mount of Olives.
Before returning to join the Christian host Tancred set his banner above the church of the Nativity as though it were a lodging house, which moved some to anger.
Albert of Aix reports in his chronicle how the nearness of Jerusalem excited these pilgrims. Few could sleep. Indeed, rather than await the dawn they resumed the march shortly after midnight. And they saw the power of the Lord manifest because the moon sank into eclipse, foretelling the eclipse of the pagan crescent.
At sunrise they could see minarets, domes, towers, and white houses of the city that hitherto they had seen only in their hearts. Many knelt to pray. Others wept, screamed, hurled themselves face down with arms outstretched to kiss the earth. Jerusalem, they could see, did not compare with Constantinople or Antioch, but not for quotidian profit did they undertake this journey.
Eight days before the ides of June they encamped. And because they had need of wood to construct siege engines the barons despatched foraging parties. Tancred accompanied them, though ill with flux and often obliged to seek privacy. Once while voiding himself he looked into a cave and saw four hundred timbers, which seemed miraculous. He shouted to his companions. Now they were able to erect ballistas, mangonels, trebuchets, wheeled castles, wooden sows that they protected with hide, mantlets, and other devices. With tent rope, olive branches, and palm stems they assembled scaling ladders.
At last, hearing in its soul a thunderous command, the boundless army of God advanced. Count Robert of Flanders laid siege near the church where Saint Stephen was stoned to death in the name of Christ. Duke Godfrey laid siege from the west, a gold image of our Lord affixed to his catapult. Count Raymond attacked from the south near the church of Saint Mary. All this through the lawful covenant of things.
Arrows descended like hail from the ramparts of Jerusalem, yet no less terrible were those enemies long familiar to the host, starvation, thirst. By direction of Iftikhar, who governed the city, fresh water springs had been concealed or muddied, nearby cisterns poisoned. Shepherds were instructed to drive their flocks away. Christians whose families had lived for centuries in Jerusalem were exp
elled, told to scavenge what food they could and drink what water they found. It is related that some few inhabitants of Thecus or Bethlehem came to visit the host and led pilgrims to water, but there was not enough. The Pool of Siloam where a blind man regained his sight had not been poisoned, although Turkish arrows reached that far and the spring replenishing this pool flowed weakly. Once, they were told, the water flowed each Saturday yet otherwise lay stagnant, which could not be explained except that our Lord so commanded. People of the region used this water for washing clothes and tanning hides. The Franks in desperation crowded together, the strong thrusting aside the feeble as they fought toward a juncture in the rock whence trickled a salty liquid. Sick or dying pilgrims fell, unable to speak, mouths open, stretching out their hands. Beasts in the field stood like creatures made from stone, fell down and rotted. The smell of death corrupted day and night and a burning wind tormented all. The Gesta relates how pilgrims sewed ox hides together by means of which they carried fresh water several leagues. But the water putrefied, turned rank, fetid, loosened the bowels. And the watchful Turk, noticing how groups went unarmed to watering places among the hills, rose up to slaughter them and dismember the bodies. During this chastisement few felt mindful of the Lord nor took heed to beseech His grace, so in their agony they could not recognize God amid them.
Now all at once came news of two Genoese galleys anchored at Joppa, captained by the brothers Embriaco, and four English ships. Since the port lay half in ruins and the city desolate, these ships were endangered. Count Galdemar started at once with thirty knights and fifty sergeants, but while en route the Turk surprised him. Various Christian knights ascended to glory including two brave youths, Achade de Montmerle and Gilbert de Trèves. Albeit many pagans plunged shrieking into the depths Count Galdemar decided to withdraw. At this moment a rising cloud of dust was seen, stirred up by Raymond Piletus leading fifty mounted knights who called loudly upon the Holy Sepulcher and Jesus Christ. Then the Turks made haste to scatter, thinking an army approached, dreading in their hearts the fiery pit of Gehenna. Count Galdemar’s men pursued them a while, killing more, then paused to collect and divide the spoil before proceeding to Joppa, which is the oldest city on earth. According to Solinus it was founded prior to the Flood, and at Joppa one may see a rock bearing traces of the chains that bound Andromeda when she was exposed to a monster. Marcus Scaurus, when he was aedile, exhibited the bones of this terrible creature at Rome. They say each rib was eight times the length of a man.
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