For the remainder of 1201 and into early 1202 preaching and preparations for the crusade gathered pace. The most intriguing—and potentially sinister—development took place at Christmas 1201 at the court of Philip of Swabia, king of Germany, in Hagenau. Boniface was visiting his relative when the king’s brother-in-law, Prince Alexius of Byzantium, arrived to seek help. This meeting has aroused considerable suspicion over the years: some have seen it as the foundation stone of an alleged agreement with Boniface that eventually led to the sack of Constantinople. A few years earlier, the prince’s father, Isaac Angelos, had been the victim of a coup led by his brother who now ruled Byzantium as Alexius III. Isaac was blinded and, along with his son, Prince Alexius, cast into prison. The young prince managed to escape and now he haunted the courts of Europe trying to persuade relatives to restore him and his father to their rightful position. While his pleas had some emotional leverage, the fact that the Angeloi family themselves had brutally removed the previous dynasty and that Isaac had allied with Saladin counted against his cause. In any case, the way events on the crusade developed was so unexpected and, in several cases, so far outside of the prince’s control that the idea of a plot hatched at Hagenau is not sustainable. Prince Alexius also visited Innocent, but the pope showed little interest in the case.24
THE CRUSADERS GATHER IN VENICE, 1202
During the late spring of 1202 the northern French crusaders set out on their great campaign. As they headed southward many traveled via the mighty waterways of the Seine and Saône, before they crossed the Alps and moved into northern Italy to assemble at Venice. Here, during the long, hot summer, the catastrophic miscalculation of the previous year’s treaty became apparent. Contingents of crusaders arrived in small groups: every so often the appearance of a senior noble would boost morale, but in essence only a fraction of the huge numbers of men promised actually gathered. Those waiting were stuck out on the Lido, an island seven miles from the main city, prudently housed there by the Venetians to ensure they could not cause any trouble. By August, only about twelve thousand of the stipulated 33,500 men had turned up. Dandolo began to fear the whole plan would collapse and all the sacrifices that he had induced the Venetians to make would be in vain. He appealed to the crusaders: “Lords, you have used us ill, for as soon as your messengers made the bargain with me I commanded through all my land that no trader should go trading, but that all should help prepare this navy. So they have waited ever since and have not made any money for a year and a half past. Instead, they have lost a great deal, and therefore . . . you should pay us the money you owe us. And if you do not do so, then know that you shall not depart from this island before we are paid, nor shall you find anyone to bring you anything to eat or to drink.”25 In desperation the leadership pooled their resources but still fell 34,000 marks short of the 85,000 owed to their hosts. Both parties here faced a deeply uncomfortable dilemma: the crusaders were aware they had made a contractual obligation and that any failure to fulfill it would entail a substantial loss of face. They might have to return home, ridiculed as the men who had reneged on their vows—in such a status-conscious society this was practically unthinkable. On Dandolo’s part, he had persuaded his people to make this huge effort and now it seemed as if it had been a terrible mistake. Not only would this ruin his own standing as doge but it would catastrophically compromise Venice’s finances. It would be an error, however, to view Dandolo as nothing other than a ruthless commercial operator. While the well-being of Venice was—rightly, given his role as doge—central to his actions, he had also chosen to become a crusader. His own father, grandfather, and uncle had taken part in the crusade of 1122–24: in the same way that the French were proud of their crusading ancestry, so was the Venetian.26 His age and blindness were, of course, immense barriers to his participation; at a ceremony in Saint Mark’s he cried out: “I am an old man, weak and in need of rest, and my health is failing,” yet he pleaded to be allowed to take the cross and “protect and guide” his people; the congregation bellowed their support: “We beg you in God’s name to take the cross,” and thus Dandolo bound himself even closer to the cause of the crusade.27
Religious sentiment aside, he needed to find a way forward for all concerned, and here we can see his ability to accommodate the seemingly contradictory demands of holy war and his place as ruler of Venice. By now it was September, and as the autumn weather drew in the chances of a safe journey to Egypt receded. Given the need to make good some of the Venetians’ losses, and the presence of a large morally and financially indebted military force, he proposed an assault on the Croatian city of Zara, 165 miles to the southeast. The Zarans had been former subjects of Venice but had broken free from its overlordship—this represented an ideal opportunity for Dandolo to regain control. There were, however, two serious catches to this scheme: the Zarans were Christians and their present overlord, King Bela III of Hungary, was a crusader. In theory, therefore, his lands were under the protection of the Church and should not be attacked—let alone by another crusading force. Aware of the acutely controversial nature of such a plan, the expedition’s leadership chose not to make an official announcement to the troops and simply gave the order to depart.
THE SIEGE OF ZARA AND THE ENVOYS OF PRINCE ALEXIUS
In October 1202 the Fourth Crusade set sail from Venice. After months of procrastination and disappointment the relief of finally starting their journey invigorated everyone. The fleet of almost two hundred vessels made a magnificent sight, at the head of the flotilla the winged-lion banner of Saint Mark fluttered and snapped above the vermilion galley of Doge Dandolo. The French crusaders hung their own brightly colored shields from the sides of their boats and everyone sang hymns to invoke divine blessing for their campaign. The eyewitness Robert of Clari was moved to describe the spectacle as “the finest thing to see that has ever been since the beginning of the world.”28
By this time, however, Pope Innocent had learned of the crusaders’ plan to go to Zara and he told his legate, Peter of Capuano, to forbid the assault and to threaten them with excommunication if they disobeyed. This was a major weapon in the Church’s spiritual armory—complete withdrawal from the community of Christians, including all church services and the sacraments; in other words, certain damnation. Yet Peter, who was with the army and could fully appreciate the crusaders’ terrible dilemma, chose not to prevent the fleet sailing to Zara and thereby gave a tacit endorsement of the plan: for him, of paramount importance was the need for the crusade to get going.
Within the ranks of the crusaders themselves, however, there was a huge split. One group of nobles, led by Simon de Montfort, opposed the diversion to Zara and strove to frustrate Dandolo’s scheme. He told the Zarans that none of the French crusaders would attack them and encouraged the defenders to turn down Venetian attempts to negotiate a surrender. The doge was disgusted by the actions of his French colleagues: “You made an agreement with me to help me capture it and now I call on you to do so.”29 From Simon’s perspective the decision to turn the crusade against his coreligionists—whatever the justification—was utterly unacceptable: “I have not come here to destroy Christians,” was his crisp assessment.30 Abbot Guy of les Vaux-de-Cernay, a churchman from Simon’s contingent, obtained a copy of the pope’s letter and read it out to the assembled nobles. At news of Innocent’s disapproval, a physical struggle ensued and Simon had to intervene to stop the doge’s men murdering the abbot. After such an open confrontation it was inevitable that the count would withdraw from the attack. On November 13, 1202, the siege of Zara began in earnest. The Venetian and French crusaders began to set up towers, catapults, and, most threateningly of all, mines. As the siege machinery bombarded the defenses the tunneling advanced well; the creation of such a lethal attacking device usually meant the end of any resistance and once the Zarans learned of its construction they agreed to terms of surrender.
By the end of 1202 the crusade was at least underway. Some progress had been made toward pay
ing off the Venetians, although to Innocent, the price of this was, in moral terms, far too high. He wrote to the crusaders at Zara in excoriating terms: “Behold, your gold has turned into base metal and your silver has almost completely rusted since, departing from the purity of your plan and turning aside from the path onto the impassable road . . . you should have hastened to the land flowing with milk and honey, you turned away, going astray in the direction of the desert.” He could not see how God would favor men who had behaved in such a fashion. To Innocent it was the Venetians who were to blame and he accused the crusaders of paying the Devil the first fruits of their pilgrimage and falling in among thieves (that is, the Venetians). He pronounced a sentence of excommunication against the crusaders as a punishment for their actions.31 Given the spiritually catastrophic consequences of such a decree many crusaders were deeply worried and a group of fearful churchmen made their way to the pope to beg for absolution. Innocent listened to their pleas and promised to consider the matter.32 The episode at Zara was a harsh lesson in just how limited papal control over crusading actually was. Firstly, Innocent’s own legate had ignored his orders, and then the bulk of the main army went completely against a clear directive. While the pope’s power to call a crusade and to care for souls was unchallenged, the practicalities of an ongoing military expedition relied on consent to ecclesiastical authority for any of the further levers to have an impact. The French crusaders’ contractual failure, coupled with the Venetians’ threat to withdraw their shipping, meant that it was pragmatism—wrapped up in an argument about being able to carry on the crusade in the first instance—that won the day. For a man such as Pope Innocent, whose belief in the power and sanctity of his office was absolute, this was an infuriating and horrifying development.
The crusaders spent the winter of 1202 encamped outside Zara. Just before the end of the year envoys arrived representing Prince Alexius. They made a carefully pitched proposal, artfully designed to appeal to the needs and interests of all involved in the crusade:
Since you have left home in the cause of God, right and justice, you should, if you are able, restore their inheritance to those who have been wrongly dispossessed. . . . If God permits you to restore Alexius to his inheritance, he will place the entire empire of Byzantium in obedience to Rome, from which it has formerly been cut off. Secondly, he understands that you have spent your own money and are now poor. Therefore, he will give you 200,000 marks of silver and provisions for the whole army, both the great men and the lesser. He will also go with you in person to the land of Egypt, accompanied by 10,000 men (or he will send them at his expense if you think that would be better). He will provide you with such service for one year. And throughout his life he will maintain 500 knights in the land overseas, supported with his own money.33
This brilliant piece of diplomacy seemed to offer advantages to everyone. For Innocent there was a prospect of the submission of the Greek Orthodox Church, something that popes had desired for centuries. The deal also enabled the crusade to continue—an obvious attraction to the pope and also, of course, to the expedition’s leaders. The problem of the debt to the Venetians would disappear and the Christians’ military resources would be dramatically enhanced. The shortfall of men at Venice would be canceled out and the prospect of a garrison force in the Levant answered another long-running need of the Latin East. The catch was, that in return for this, Prince Alexius wanted to be restored to the throne of Constantinople, something that might require the crusaders to fight their way into the city and install him by force.
Once again, the prospect of attacking a Christian city provoked huge controversy among the crusaders. The fact that Prince Alexius’s father had been illicitly dispossessed of his throne was, as the Byzantine envoys observed, an important point because the notion of regaining land wrongfully taken was a central element in the concept of crusading. Yet many in the rank and file experienced deep disquiet. Some felt that Dandolo’s enthusiasm for the plan was driven by financial motives and a desire to avenge the arrest and ill-treatment of Venetians in Constantinople in 1171. By the early thirteenth century, however, relations between the two powers were mended and due recompense had been made; this was not really, therefore, a relevant issue.34 The northern French crusaders, such as Baldwin of Flanders and Villehardouin, were determined to push through the plan and they tried hard to persuade their colleagues to consent. Given his earlier opposition to the siege of Zara it was inevitable that Simon de Montfort should dissent and he chose this moment to leave the main expedition and take his knights directly to the Holy Land. This did not deter the other nobles and they summoned the prince’s envoys to the doge’s quarters in Zara where they swore to the agreement.35 From this moment onward the crusade was heading for Constantinople.
Pope Innocent had released the French crusaders from the vow of ex communication on condition they perform penance for their sins, but the Venetians showed no contrition and therefore remained outside the Church. Innocent required an oath from the crusaders that they would behave correctly in the future, although the phrasing of his pronouncement created an ambiguity. The men would: “neither invade nor violate the lands of Christians in any manner, unless, perchance, they wickedly impede your journey or another just or necessary cause should, perhaps, arise, on account of which you would be empowered to act otherwise.”36 Intentionally or not, the clause “just or necessary cause” gave the crusaders a loophole to justify their future actions and for some—probably incorrectly—to infer papal support for their decisions.
THE FIRST SIEGE OF CONSTANTINOPLE, 1203
The expedition left Zara in late April and sailed down the Adriatic to Corfu where it was joined by Prince Alexius. After a few weeks the crusaders gathered themselves together and set sail for Constantinople on May 24, 1203. While many thousands of crusaders and merchants had seen Constantinople over the years, little could prepare the newcomers for its size and splendor. With a population of around 350,000 it was far in excess of anything in the West—Paris, Rome, and the Italian trading cities reached perhaps the fifty to sixty thousand mark. The three and a half miles of land defenses, fully double-walled and with a moat, were the greatest urban fortifications in Christendom; the rest of the city was guarded by the smaller sea walls while a chain protected the entrance to the inlet of the Golden Horn. Close to the waterfront lay the magnificent Bucoleon Palace, while behind it lay the massive bulk of the Hagia Sophia, arguably the greatest church in the world. Villehardouin noted some of the crusaders’ reactions:
Now you can be assured that those who had never seen Constantinople before gazed at it for a long time, barely believing that there was such a great city in all the world. They saw its high walls and mighty towers, with which the city was completely encircled, as well as the fine palaces and impressive churches, of which there were so many that none could believe it if he did not see it with his own eyes, and they could be seen the length and breadth of the city which is the sovereign of all others. Know that there was no man there so bold that his flesh did not tremble, which should come as no surprise for never was such a great project undertaken by as many men since the creation of the world.37
Only now did they realize the immensity of the challenge that lay ahead of them if Prince Alexius was not accepted back by his people. The crusaders made camp in the area of Scutari on what we now call the Asian side of the city. In early July a group of boats set out to parade Prince Alexius before the sea walls. The prince and his allies anticipated a tumultuous acclaim and the start of a peaceful and easy entry to the city: “Behold your natural lord,” they called out.38 Yet as the crusaders’ boats bobbed offshore, most of Constantinople remained utterly indifferent except a few who hurled abuse and taunts at the young man. Such a reception shattered the prince’s assurances that he would be welcomed by a grateful crowd, relieved to have respite from the cruel tyrant Alexius III. The emperor exploited over a century of tension between the Byzantines and the crusaders to encourage the idea
that the prince and his western allies intended to deprive the Greeks of their liberty and to subjugate them to the pope. The fact that Prince Alexius had never governed Constantinople, plus his youth and his recent lengthy absence from the city, were further reasons why he lacked a natural groundswell of support. The crusaders ushered their chastened ally away and despondently turned back for camp.
Their first point of attack was to be the suburb of Galata on the northern bank of the Golden Horn. The army divided into seven divisions according to regional identity, a move intended to preserve the coordination and discipline so vital in winning battles. On the night of July 3, 1203, the crusaders prayed for victory as they prepared to make the largest amphibious landing yet attempted in the medieval West. The fleet moved across the Bosporus and as the boats drew close to the shore, archers and crossbowmen sent a hail of fire toward the Greeks. Once the ships touched the shallows the horse transports opened their doors and disgorged the mounted knights, who surged ashore. Troops had gathered to resist the landing, but rather than confront the crusaders at this most vulnerable time they simply retreated.39
The following day brought more success for the westerners with the capture of the Galata Tower, the main defensive structure of the area and, more importantly, the breaking of the chain across the Golden Horn, which gave the Venetian fleet clear access to the Greek navy, a decrepit force that had been neglected for decades by successive emperors; it was duly routed.40 Control over the Golden Horn also provided safe harbor for the Venetian vessels, and the presence of their ships bobbing just opposite the city walls brought home to the Greeks the menace posed by the crusaders.
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