In this situation, Yaghi Siyan was understandably disturbed by the news that a massive western European army was approaching his city. They were an unknown quantity so, although he commanded a formidable, well-provisioned garrison, he quickly decided to send his two sons - Shams ad-Daulah and Muhammad - on a series of diplomatic missions begging for military aid from Damascus, Aleppo and the city of Mosul in Mesopotamia. In the interests of safety, he also chose to expel some of the Christians living within the city's walls.
In fact, the crusaders themselves were at first unsure of how to deal with Antioch. In light of the city's international reputation and its location on the pilgrimage route to Jerusalem, the Frankish leaders had no doubt heard of its fame even before leaving Europe, and had probably learned something of its strategic significance and approximate strength from the Emperor Alexius. The princes seem to have decided that Antioch must be taken even before they set foot in northern Syria. But why, given that the crusade's ultimate goal, Jerusalem, lay to the south? More than a year later, when the expedition still had not moved on to the Holy City, ordinary crusaders began to ask the same question. The answer was dictated by strategic reality: Antioch exercised so potent a stranglehold over northern Syria that it would have been virtually impossible for the crusaders to continue their pilgrimage in safety if it had remained in enemy hands. Had they bypassed the city, their lines of communication to the west would have been cut, their forces isolated and surrounded. With Antioch secured, the way would be open for resupply and reinforcement by further waves of European crusaders and the Byzantine army, upon which the Franks were depending.3
So the question was not whether Antioch should be taken, but how. The matter was hotly debated in a council of leaders in mid-October 1097. Some advocated a cautious policy of distant investment, whereby the Franks would take up a fortified position north of the city, perhaps at Baghras, a former Byzantine stronghold that now lay in ruins. From this position, they could police the region in relative safety, harassing the Antiochene garrison, hampering their lines of supply but avoiding direct confrontation. Having sat out the approaching winter, and with their ranks swelled by expected reinforcements, the crusaders could move to tighten the noose, squeezing Antioch into submission. This policy was probably promoted by the Byzantine Taticius - a similar strategy had worked for the Greeks in 969 and he certainly recommended this approach in January 1098. In the end, however, those in favour of more direct and immediate action, including Raymond of Toulouse, won the day. Perhaps fearing that their army might break up during a long, inactive winter, the princes agreed to attempt a close siege of the city. Perhaps in the knowledge that this would be no easy task, they each swore an oath not to desert the siege.4
The princes actually showed considerable strategic foresight on their march south to Antibch, taking care to seize its key satellite defences to the north and south before the siege began. Raymond of Toulouse had earlier sent a contingent under Peter of Roaix to secure the Ruj valley, one of the two southern approaches to Antioch. From Baghras the main army could have taken a direct route south to Antioch, but instead they went east around the Lake of Antioch to secure the fertile plains north-east of the city. Robert of Flanders was dispatched with 1,000 troops to capture Artah, a fortified town that lay some twenty-two kilometres from Antioch, on the intersection of ancient Roman roads from Marash, Edessa and Aleppo. As one contemporary noted, Artah was 'the shield of Antioch' - the region s most important fortress - and no army could possibly hope to invest Antioch with impunity if Artah remained in enemy hands. As it was, no crusader attack was necessary. Robert's approach was enough to spark a revolt among the town's Armenian population, its Turkish garrison fled to Antioch and the Franks were welcomed.
To make their final advance on Antioch, the crusaders needed to cross the Orontes, the great Syrian river that divided the region north to south. This could be done with ease only about twelve kilometres north of Antioch, at the Iron Bridge. A contemporary who wrote about the crusade, but never visited the Levant, imagined that it was given this imposing name because of its remarkable metal construction: 'On each side of the bridge two towers overhung, made indestructible by iron and perfectly adapted for defence.' This sounds impressive, but in reality the name probably came from a distortion of the river's local moniker - the Farfar - that became, in Latin, Pons Ferreus (Iron Bridge). The crossing may have been defended by twin forts and the stone bridge itself was certainly strongly built - it survived intact until 1972. When the Franks arrived it was guarded by up to 700 troops, but they were soon overwhelmed on 19 October 1097 by a crusader vanguard of 2,000 men under Robert of Normandy. At last, the road lay open to Antioch itself.5
The crusaders were deeply shocked and intimidated by their first glimpse of the city. Stephen of Blois noted in a letter to his wife, ‘We found the city of Antioch very extensive, fortified with incredible strength and almost impregnable.' Another crusader believed that it could never be captured by outside enemies 'if the inhabitants, supplied with bread, wished to defend it long enough'. Having faced innumerable obstacles and travelled thousands of kilometres to reach this point, they suddenly realised that Antioch was virtually invulnerable. Visiting modern Antioch — now named Antakya — one can gain a real sense of the city's size and strength in the eleventh century, and the extraordinary nature of its topography and fortifications. At first sight the modern city, a bustling Turkish outpost on the disputed border with Syria, might seem unremarkable, but a careful eye and some dogged exploration can reveal its medieval magnificence. The city lies at the foot of two craggy mountains -Staurin and Silpius - and, until modern expansion, was hemmed in to the west by the Orontes river. In the sixth century these natural features were enhanced by a remarkable construction programme that enclosed the entire city within a massive defensive wall - almost five kilometres in length, two metres thick and up to twenty in height - running from the Orontes straight up Staurin's and Silpius' precipitous slopes. One Latin contemporary wrote that 'this wonderful city' was defended by walls 'built with most enormous rocks and towers, reckoned to number 360'. The whole defensive system was topped off by an imposing citadel, perched 500 metres above the city, near the summit of Mount Silpius. The mountain sections of these fortifications survive to this day. Following their line on foot requires determination and a head for heights, but drives home two important points: constructing them must have been an incredible labour; attacking them would have been virtual lunacy. Raymond of Toulouse's chaplain perfectly summed up the task facing the crusaders: 'This city extends two miles in length and is so protected with walls, towers and defences that it may dread neither the attack of machine nor the assault of man even if all mankind gathered to besiege it'
By the late eleventh century these defences may not have been in pristine condition, but they were still extremely formidable. Antioch had six main gates, each of which was given a nickname by the crusaders. The north-eastern road from the Iron Bridge entered Antioch at the St Paul Gate, near the apostle's shrine that had been built into the slopes of Staurin. Next, going anti-clockwise, stood the Dog Gate, the Gate of the Duke and, where the walls eventually reached the Orontes, the Bridge Gate. The latter was crucial because it controlled the only bridge over the river and, therefore, access to the roads from Alexandretta and the port of St Simeon. To the extreme south lay the St George Gate, giving access to the road to the major port of Latakia, and finally, to the east, in a narrow rocky canyon between Silpius and Staurin, stood the formidable Iron Gate, which is still standing today.6
This rather convoluted description is necessary because Antioch's complex geography directly shaped events over the next nine months, dictating Latin and Muslim strategy. The crusaders seem to have rapidly decided against any attempt at a direct assault. They had neither the materials nor the craftsmen to build the siege engines and ladders needed to overcome such a heavily fortified site. The obvious alternative was an attrition siege, which was becoming an increasi
ngly important staple of military confrontation across medieval Europe. For both aggressor and defender, this potentially long-drawn-out process was governed not so much by combat as by logistics and morale. In a classic situation, the besieging force would attempt to cut off their target city from any possible outside aid or avenue of supply, hoping to starve them into submission. The defenders, for their part, would strive to outlast their enemy, particularly if the besiegers7 lines of resupply were themselves weak. They might also hold out hope for reinforcement by a major force, leaving the besiegers trapped between two fronts. Demonstrations of cruelty and ruthlessness by both parties, designed to intimidate the enemy and sap their morale, were a further tactic in this slow, grinding process.7
Once we understand the nature of this style of warfare, and the extent of Antioch's fortifications, we can begin to appreciate the mammoth scale of the crusaders' task. The city had a sizeable Turkish garrison, perhaps numbering 5,000 men, plentiful stores of food and a ready supply of water. The sheer length of Antioch's walls meant that a full encirclement was virtually impossible. The north-western gates of St Paul, the Dog and the Duke could be invested with some measure of security, because forces might be placed before each and still maintain close contact with one another. The problem came with enlarging this cordon. If the Latins wanted to block the Bridge and the St George gates, they would have to cross the Orontes some
twelve kilometres upstream and, now separated by the river, face complete isolation from the main force should the Muslim garrison sally forth.
Investing the Iron Gate would have been even more dangerous. One Latin contemporary recalled that this 'gate was left free, since it was inaccessible to the besiegers because of the great height of the surrounding mountains, and the narrowness of its paths7.8 What no historian has noted to date is that the Iron Gate could have been approached. It is accessible via a twisting gorge that runs for more than a kilometre before reaching plains to the north of the city, but any force positioned outside this gate would have been entirely cut off from the rest of the crusaders, wholly exposed to Muslim counterattack. So it was that, even as the siege progressed and the Latin encirclement tightened, this sixth gate proved to. be too dangerous to blockade and continued to act as a crucial avenue of supply and communication for the Muslims.
THE SIEGE OF ANTIOCH BEGINS
The siege of Antioch began on 20 October 1097, with the arrival of the crusaders7 vanguard, led by Bohemond. One of his followers noted that on the 'next day, Wednesday 21 October, the main army reached Antioch about noon, and we established a strict blockade on three gates of the city, for we could not besiege it from the other side because a mountain, high and very steep, stood in our way7.
Realising from the start that they could not encircle the entire city, the crusaders concentrated their initial efforts upon its north-western quarter. This decision was both expedient - this was the first part of the city reached when arriving from the Iron Bridge - and strategically sound, since it allowed close contact between contingents. As might be expected, the crusaders divided into what could broadly be defined as 'national7 groups. Bohemond, with the bulk of his troops, took up position in front of the St Paul Gate, while the remaining southern Italian Normans, including Tancred, camped behind in support. Next, going anti-clockwise, were the northern French, including Robert of Normandy, Robert of Flanders, Hugh of Vermandois and Stephen of Blois. Raymond of Toulouse, Adhemar of Le Puy and the remaining southern French blockaded the Dog Gate, while Duke Godfrey of Bouillon camped before what became known as the Gate of the Duke. Finally, Taticius and the Byzantine contingent camped some distance from the walls, presumably to act as a reserve force.9
These initial dispositions may not have been solely dependent upon strategic concerns. The crusaders were accustomed to operating on the principle of'right by conquest', that is, whoever took possession of property first had the legal right to its possession. Even at the start of the siege, the Latins were probably aware that access to a major gate might allow rapid entry into the city, if and when it fell, and that this factor would determine the distribution of spoils and perhaps even title to Antioch itself. It is, therefore, no real surprise to find that Bohemond, whose ambitions regarding Antioch would soon become apparent, was the first to arrive at the city. Nor, perhaps, should we imagine that gallantry alone inspired his decision to undertake the potentially perilous blockade of the St Paul Gate, the most important of Antioch's portals to be invested at this stage. As in so many campaigns and wars, the protagonists probably harboured plans for the city's division, or even retention, long before its walls ever came into view.
The crusaders may have come prepared for immediate battle, but their arrival was actually followed by a surprising lull in events:
The hostile Turks within Antioch were so frightened that for almost fifteen days they did not harass any of our men. Soon we were ensconced in the neighbourhood, where we found vineyards everywhere, pits filled with grain, apple trees heavy with fruit for tasty eating, as well as many other healthy foods. Although they had wives in Antioch, the Armenians and Syrians would leave the city under pretence of flight and would come to our camp almost every day. They slyly investigated us, our resources, and our strength and then reported on all they had seen to the accursed Antiochians.10
In these first, tentative two weeks, Yaghi Siyan was probably trying to assess the crusaders' intentions - would they attempt a frontal assault, seek to blockade the city or simply wish to negotiate a safe passage south? He may also have been trying to buy time in which his appeals for aid might bear fruit. One crusader, Raymond of Aguilers, writing years later and in full knowledge of how difficult the siege would become, wistfully recalled these easy days: Those who stayed in camp enjoyed the high life so that they ate only the best cuts, rump and shoulders, scorned brisket, and thought nothing of grain and wine. In these good times only watchmen along the walls reminded us of our enemies concealed within Antioch.11
However, once it became clear that no concerted attack was imminent, the Turkish garrison soon began to adopt a policy of cautious harassment. A Latin eyewitness noted that, 'after the Turks had found out about us, they began to emerge gradually and to attack... wherever they could lay ambush for us'. These attacks took three main forms. First, the garrison would use the Iron Gate to access Mount Staurin, where, from an elevated position of impunity, they could rain down missiles upon the crusaders besieging the St Paul Gate; one eyewitness wrote that arrows often 'fell into my Lord Bohemond's camp, and a woman was killed by a wound from one of them'. The Muslims also made frequent use of the unblockaded Bridge Gate to gain access to the plains to the west of Antioch. Mounted archers would then bombard the crusaders camped on the opposite bank of the Orontes. Such troops were difficult to counter:
partly because they were lightly armed with bows and were very agile on horse-back, and partly because they could race back across their aforementioned bridge. Because of their encampment near the banks of the river, Raymond and Adhemar bore the brunt of the raids. These hit and run attacks cost the above leaders all of their horses because the Turks, unskilled in the use of lances and swords, fought at a distance with arrows and so were dangerous in pursuit or flight.12
One of Antioch's satellite fortresses, Harim, also remained in Muslim hands. From this fortification, perched on the edge of a spine of rocky hills known as the Jabal Talat, about fifteen kilometres east of the city, and commanding an excellent view of the road to the Iron Bridge, the Turks began to send out skirmishing forces to pick off any stray Latins. By the second week of November, with the initial abundance of food almost waning, the crusaders really began to feel the pressure of these harassing attacks. For their siege to succeed they needed to limit Muslim mobility, containing the garrison within the city's walls as far as possible, and to free up their own lines of supply. One of their first actions, designed to assert greater control over the Antiochene plain, was to fashion a makeshift bridge over the Oronte
s opposite the Gate of the Duke. Before this, 'they had crossed over from one bank to another on a sluggish boat, watching anxiously'. Now they gathered together all the small boats they could find and lashed them together with rope to form a rudimentary crossing point. This was not a perfect solution and, in particular, mounted knights found it difficult to negotiate this Bridge of Boats at speed. While rushing to one of the frequent skirmishes that took place on the plains, the knight Henry of Esch became so exasperated with the delay that he decided to try to swim his horse across the Orontes. Weighed down by his armour and shield, 'the very deep waters closed over his head. Nevertheless, with God protecting him he reached dry land alive and still sitting on his horse.'13
The Bridge of Boats may have been a rather ramshackle affair, but, as the siege continued, it gave the crusaders a crucial advantage: access to the sea. The crossing allowed them to set up a more secure line of contact with Antioch's nearest port, St Simeon, named in honour of the fifth-century Christian hermit who had for decades lived near Aleppo, in isolation atop a stone pillar. From this point onwards the Mediterranean proved to be a vital lifeline for the crusaders, a conduit of contact, supply and reinforcement. Overland the journey to Europe might take months; by sea, under the most favourable conditions, it could be completed in two weeks. Indeed, naval contact actually allowed crusaders to send letters back to their homelands. We know that the crusaders benefited enormously from naval aid - in fact one could argue that the expedition would have failed without it - but our sources seem strangely reluctant to discuss it in any detail. In strategic terms, St Simeon was certainly as important as either Artah or the Iron Bridge, yet we have no clear account of the port's conquest or occupation. The Provencal crusader Raymond of Aguilers tells of a fleet that left England as soon as 'news of the crusades launched in the name of God's vengeance' arrived. It 'dared to sail through the strange and vast surface of the Mediterranean [and] after great trials arrived at Antioch [St Simeon] and Latakia in advance of our army'. Unfortunately this story is not confirmed by any other source. An Anglo-Norman fleet may have seized both of these ports, or perhaps Raymond's account represents a garbled recognition that Anglo-Saxon mercenaries were employed in Byzantine fleets. St Simeon was certainly in Latin hands by mid-November, and this opened the possibility of regular maritime contact with Greek-held Cyprus, and from there access to the rest of the Byzantine Empire and even western Europe. Around this time, the papal legate Adhemar made contact with the Greek patriarch of Jerusalem, now in exile on Cyprus, and together they drafted a letter of appeal to the West. In the months to come Adhemar's policy of detente with the Byzantines bore fruit in the form of much-needed supplies.14
The First Crusade Page 18
