The Crusader States

by Malcolm Barber

  The human cost of the battle was immense. Both Walter the Chancellor and Matthew of Edessa assert that almost all the Frankish military force of Antioch was lost, killed or captured.21 If Walter's assessment of the size of the army is correct, this would mean 700 knights and 3,000 foot soldiers. Such an assessment may not be incompatible with Fulcher of Chartres's statement that there were 7,000 dead from Antioch, given that Roger appears to have gathered as many men as he could find when he heard news of Il-Ghazi's advance.22 Matthew of Edessa says his army consisted of 600 horsemen, 500 mounted Armenians, 400 infantry and what he calls ‘a rabble’ of about 10,000 men. In the twenty-four hours after the battle alone, Il-Ghazi slaughtered over 500 prisoners who were captured when they took refuge on a hill near the battlefield.23 Apart from Roger himself, the principality was shorn of its major leaders: Robert of St Lô and Guy Fraisnel disappear from the records and were probably killed, and Rainald Mazoir, later constable of Antioch, was taken prisoner.24 Robert fitz-Fulk, lord of Zardana, was captured when his fortress fell to the Turks in early August, and beheaded.25

  Roger's death was a huge shock to the Christians; no other Latin ruler in the East had, until then, fallen in battle.26 Walter the Chancellor is concerned to draw the moral that the defeat was the consequence of pride, which he expresses in general terms, but he does say that Roger himself had lived ‘steeped in worldliness’.27 Fulcher of Chartres, perhaps reflecting resentment in Jerusalem at the need to bail out Antioch, is much blunter, describing the Antiochenes as sunk in materialism and accusing Roger himself of many adulteries.28 Not surprisingly, both chroniclers believed that God had withdrawn his favour.

  Antioch was now very vulnerable. There were few Frankish defenders, and the city was dependent on the leadership of the senior clergy under Patriarch Bernard. At the same time the indigenous population, which Walter the Chancellor openly admits had been unjustly treated by the Franks, ‘wanted to return evil for evil’, raising the possibility of internal treachery, as had occurred during the crusaders’ own siege in 1098.29 This undercurrent of discontent may well be the reason why Matthew of Edessa describes Roger as ‘an arrogant and prideful man’.30 Il-Ghazi's army certainly terrorised the principality: Matthew says that the Turks ravaged the whole country from the Euphrates to the Mediterranean, ‘bringing bloodshed and enslavement’, while Walter the Chancellor describes how ‘he often sent thousands of soldiers throughout regions far and near who returned to him day after day refreshed and laden with spoils both of men and of other things’.31 The monastic communities established on the Black Mountain were especially easy targets and many of the monks were massacred.32 Il-Ghazi, however, did not attack Antioch, as its inhabitants clearly feared, but instead used the time before the appearance of King Baldwin – probably about a month – to take the Frankish fortresses of Artah and ‘Imm in the region to the west of Aleppo, and then, while the king was assembling his forces, al-Atharib and Zardana.33

  Baldwin, together with Pons, count of Tripoli, probably arrived in late July, having already encountered groups of Turcomans raiding the principality, some as far west as the coast. The one detailed account of what followed is by Walter the Chancellor, who must have put this together from witnesses and perhaps from his own archival research, since at this time he was almost certainly in captivity in Aleppo.34 Baldwin's first action was to establish his authority in the principality. He was accepted as prince until the rightful heir, Bohemond II, came of age, when he would marry Alice, the king's second daughter. However, all existing landholdings were to be protected, a provision apparently aimed at preventing any major redistribution of fiefs by Bohemond.35 This was a long-term commitment, since Bohemond was only about nine years old at this time and was living in Apulia. Uncharacteristically, Fulcher of Chartres rather grandiloquently says that ‘God conceded him [Baldwin] the length and breadth of the land from Egypt to Mesopotamia’, a power much greater than that of his predecessors, although it proved a heavy responsibility that was to cause the king much trouble throughout the 1120s.36

  There was no way that Il-Ghazi could now avoid another great battle if he were to keep the gains made after what the Franks called the ‘Field of Blood’. Baldwin assembled all the forces he could call on, including Edessene troops (apparently not present at Balat) and Alan, lord of al-Atharib, whose departure may well have enabled Il-Ghazi to take the fortress there. After a great show of penitence the combined army set out from Antioch, protected by the True Cross, which had been brought from Jerusalem. Baldwin encamped near Tell Danith, south-west of Zardana, apparently at the same place as Roger before his victory in 1115. By this time Tughtigin had finally joined Il-Ghazi, and further reinforcements had arrived under the local Bedouin leader, Dubais ibn Sadaqa.37 On 14 August, the Turks attempted to encircle the Christians, as they had done in June, but Baldwin was wary enough to prevent this from succeeding. Nevertheless, both sides suffered heavy casualties in what became a very confused battle. Evremar of Chocques, archbishop of Ceasarea, holding the True Cross, was hit by an arrow, and Baldwin's horse was wounded. In the end, Walter the Chancellor claims it as a Christian victory, although Matthew of Edessa is probably more accurate when he says that ‘neither side was defeated or was victorious’.38 Fulcher of Chartres says that Baldwin remained at Tell Danith for another forty-eight hours, waiting to see whether the Turks would return, and only departed when he was sure that the fighting had finished, which indicates that he believed that a substantial part of the Turkish army was still intact.39 Walter's view is nevertheless understandable, for the king had fought off the immediate threat to Antioch and was given ‘a victor's welcome’ by the patriarch and people when he returned to the city.40

  Although the leadership was decimated, the territorial losses of the principality were small in comparison with the aftermath of the battle of Harran in 1104.41 This accords with the views of Fulcher of Chartres and William of Tyre, both of whom emphasise the seriousness of the defeat at Harran in comparison with other battles.42 The main impact was along Antioch's eastern frontier, where Roger's aggressive attempts to threaten Aleppo had been negated, and the important fortresses of Sarmada, al-Atharib and Zardana, which formed an outer circle facing Aleppo, had fallen to the Turks. Il-Ghazi now also controlled most of the lands beyond the Orontes, including Artah, ‘Imm and Harim, as well as the approaches to the Iron Bridge, the key crossing of the river to the east of Antioch.43

  Map

  Losses of territory in the principality of Antioch after the battles of Harran (1104) and the Field of Blood (1119).

  However, the two most important contemporary chroniclers, Walter the Chancellor and Ibn al-Qalanisi, were, like modern historians, surprised that Il-Ghazi did not attack, after the Field of Blood, Antioch itself. According to Ibn al-Qalanisi, it was ‘left defenceless and bereft of its protectors and trusty men-at-arms, a prey to the attacker, and an opportunity to the seeker’. Part of the explanation is suggested by Ibn al-Qalanisi himself, who says that, although Antioch lay open, no one thought to take it, as Tughtigin was not there.44 This suggests that the answer lies in the flaws of Il-Ghazi's character, which were well known to both Muslims and Christians: he was easily incapacitated by wine, while he could be diverted from his goals by the pleasure he took in plunder and the sadistic treatment of prisoners.45 Muslim writers, who had their own agendas, liked to frame these campaigns in the language of jihad, but Il-Ghazi himself had never shown much interest in the wider aims of the Islamic world.46

  A longer perspective suggests that he appreciated the difficulty of taking and holding Antioch while Baldwin's relief army remained in the field.47 As the crusaders had found in 1097–8, it was not an easy city to overcome; even Saladin was baulked in 1188 after his crushing victory at Hattin. For Il-Ghazi, reliant on his Turcomans, it may have been too formidable to attempt. According to Ibn al-Athir, they never campaigned for long and Il-Ghazi himself did not believe that they were the equal of the Frankish cavalry. ‘Each of them would a
rrive with a bag of wheat and a sheep and would count the hours until he could take some quick booty and then go home. If their stay was extended, they would disperse.’48 Moreover, although Il-Ghazi was better able to control them than most other Turkish chiefs, there are signs that, towards the end of his career, his influence over them was waning, and that he himself was well aware of this.49 When Baldwin returned after the battle of Tell Danith, the citizens ‘wept from piety and sang for joy’, but perhaps they had not been in as much danger as they had imagined.50

  The affairs of Antioch were to play a major part in Baldwin's reign, but in 1119 he was not able to stay in the north indefinitely. It is likely that, during this period, he settled Edessa on Joscelin of Courtenay, as well as making the best arrangements he could for the maintenance of the Antiochene fiefs.51 According to Fulcher of Chartres, this meant ensuring that the lands of deceased nobles were received by the rightful heirs and finding husbands for the many widows.52 William of Tyre adds that the new husbands were of appropriate rank, although it is not clear how this could have been achieved after what had happened.53

  In Edessa, Joscelin inherited from his cousin a feudal structure similar to that in north-west France. As well as Turbessel, by 1104, there were Frankish lords of Marash, Saruj, Aintab, Duluk and Raban. Galeran of Le Puiset is known to have been lord of Bira by 1116. Two further lordships appear in the 1120s: Quris in the south-west of the county, and Gargar, on the Euphrates north of Edessa, recaptured from the Turks by Michael, son of Constantine, its Armenian lord, in 1123–4.54 Although the evidence is scanty, it seems that the counts ruled through their own court and officers, which included a chancellor, a constable and a seneschal, and adapted the Byzantine financial and monetary system to their own use.55 Under Joscelin, the ecclesiastical institutions implanted in the kingdom of Jerusalem began to establish themselves in the county; both the abbey of St Mary of Jehoshaphat and the Hospital received grants in the 1120s.56 Matthew of Edessa calls Joscelin ‘a brave and mighty warrior’, which appears to reflect the count's determined effort to conciliate the indigenous population. ‘Joscelin, abandoning his former cruel nature, now adopted a very humane and compassionate attitude towards the inhabitants of Edessa.’57 Some limited evidence of the existence of Armenian lordships and of administrators in Frankish employ suggests that Joscelin had indeed recognised the value of co-operation.58

  King Baldwin returned to Jerusalem later in the year, having sent the True Cross ahead of him (he was well aware that its removal from Jerusalem was always a matter of unease in the kingdom). At Christmas 1119, he, like Baldwin I, was crowned king at Bethlehem, together with his Armenian wife, Morphia,59 and then, once the Christmas period was over, he and the patriarch convened a general council in the city of Nablus.

  The council of Nablus was held on 16 January 1120. It is recorded by William of Tyre, writing over sixty years later, but not by Fulcher of Chartres, the contemporary chronicler most likely to have known about it.60 William places it in the context of what he calls a kingdom ‘tormented by many hardships’, the most damaging of which were constant enemy attacks and, for four successive years, the ruin of the crops by locusts and mice. These troubles he attributes to ‘our sins’, and he describes how the new patriarch, Warmund of Picquigny (a town about 10 miles north-west of Amiens), who had succeeded Arnulf of Chocques in the late summer of 1118, had opened proceedings with a sermon calling on people to assuage God's wrath by turning to a better life and by undertaking pious works. This took practical form in the promulgation of twenty-five articles, ‘ordained by communal judgement as having the force of law’, and intended to improve moral standards and discipline. William, however, does not incorporate the text of the articles, stating that they were easily available as copies were kept in the archives of many churches. This is confirmed by the surviving text from Sidon, which lists the same major participants as those set down in the archbishop's chronicle.61

  The list shows that this was not an ecclesiastical synod, but a general assembly involving all the leading clergy and secular lords of the kingdom, gathered together under the aegis of both the patriarch and the king. The council was attended by the former patriarch, Evremar, archbishop of Ceasarea, who had carried the True Cross in the recent Antioch campaign and was the second most important cleric in the kingdom, and the bishops of Nazareth, Bethlehem and Ramla. As this made up the entire episcopate of the kingdom at this time,62 it seems certain that the others listed also represent the elite. Thus there were two abbots from the monasteries of St Mary in the valley of Jehoshaphat and Mount Tabor, and three priors from the communities of the canons of the Temple, Mount Sion and the Holy Sepulchre. Apart from Pagan, the chancellor (1115–29), who at this time may or may not have been a cleric, there were four leading seculars, Eustace Grenier, lord of Ceasarea and Sidon (1110–23), William of Bures, prince of Galilee (1120–42), Barisan, constable of Jaffa, later lord of Ibelin (1141–50), and Baldwin, later lord of Ramla (died 1138), but who was probably the administrator or castellan of the fief at this time.63

  The first three clauses record a ‘concordat’, the central element of which was the confirmation of the Church's right to the tithes.64 Baldwin I, in constant need of money to pay his soldiers, had had little patience with patriarchs who did not deliver what he wanted. Arnulf of Chocques had survived because he understood this, but he had been shaken by the furore over the repudiation of Queen Adelaide and had been under pressure from the papacy for most of his period in office. It is therefore possible that he had attempted to ingratiate himself with the ecclesiastical authorities in Rome by extracting a promise about the restoration of tithes from Baldwin of Bourcq in return for his support in the struggle for the Crown.65 Evidently Baldwin I and other seculars, such as Tancred, had used the tithes for their own needs, although this was supposedly ‘an emergency measure’ rather than the norm. Tithes were, in theory, paid to bishops and chapters on all sources of income, and at Nablus it was established that they should be spent within the diocese in which they had been collected, preferably on parish churches where these had been instituted.66 In practice, the system was far from uniform. The papacy itself was responsible for granting exemptions, especially to monastic institutions on their demesne lands, and both the Hospitallers and the abbey of St Mary of Jehoshaphat used these privileges to help fund their much needed charitable activities in and around Jerusalem.67

  The largest group of canons lays down the punishments for sexual and marital misdemeanours: adultery (4–6), procuring (7), sodomy (8–11), sexual relations between Franks and Saracens (12–15) and bigamy (17–19). Canon 5, for example, decrees castration and expulsion from the kingdom for male adulterers and rhinotomy (cutting of the nose) for females. The last punishment was waived if the husband forgave her, but in that case both spouses were to be expelled. Sodomy was even more serious: canon 8 says that all adult offenders should be burned, although canon 9 imposes only a penance on a child or an adult who had lodged a legal complaint. As the prologue to the council shows, there is a clear appeal to God's mercy here: Sodom had been brought down by the sexual sins of its inhabitants, and the Latins wanted to make their penitence as overt as possible. One consequence of past laxity had been the defeat of Roger of Antioch, directly referred to in the prologue, and it may be no coincidence that Fulcher of Chartres ascribed this disaster to Roger's promiscuity. At the same time canons 12–15 display an anxiety to avoid miscegenation, whether for their own self-protection as a distinct Latin elite, or because they believed God disapproved, or both.68

  The final six canons refer to matters of more general importance, although one of them has a very specific relevance to the states in Outremer. Canons 20 and 21 deal with clerics who bear arms or abandon their ecclesiastical status, while canon 22 warns against false accusation and canon 23 sets out a scale of punishments for theft. Most startling is canon 20, the first part of which overtly contradicts normal practice in the rest of Latin Christendom: ‘If a cleric bear
s arms in the cause of defence, he is not to be held culpable.’69 Of course, clerics over the centuries had often disobeyed the prohibition on the carrying of arms, or tried to evade it on a technicality, but they were nevertheless in contravention of canon law. Here, however, where military crises were so common, there was no such reservation. When the need for action arose nobody was exempt from participation, for survival depended upon the ability of the Franks to beat off an enemy superior in both numbers and resources.70