This approach to war could be extremely intimidating, spreading fear and panic. The Turks sought to amplify this effect by shouting war cries, beating war drums, and blowing great trumpets to unnerve their enemies. As a later Muslim author once commented, “Let the [emir] terrify the hearts of the enemy by displaying banners, beating kusat (small drums) and sounding buqat (trumpets), along with the noise of tubul (large drums) and naqqarat (kettle-drums).”55
These maneuvers sought to maximize the Turks’ strengths (mobility and skillful archers) while minimizing their weaknesses (light armor and vulnerability in hand-to-hand combat). Their objective was to rout large, structured enemy formations, breaking them into smaller, poorly coordinated groups that could then be picked off singly.
The efficacy of these steppe tactics was demonstrated by the sheer scope of the Seljuk conquests in the eleventh century. Their approach to war proved adaptable to a range of military encounters with a host of different civilizations, proving its worth against enemies as diverse as war elephants in Persia and Viking mercenaries in Anatolia. By the end of the First Crusade, only the Egyptians and the Franks had shown any consistent ability to face them in battle (at least in the Near Eastern theater).
The Turks’ approach to war, like their broader culture, had not remained static during their incursions into the Muslim world, and by the time they faced Roger of Antioch in 1119, many decades separated them from their former lives on the steppe. In the intervening period they had conquered much of the Islamic world, and it is likely that many among them would have picked up better weapons or armor, either as plunder or from local craftsmen or traders. Their leaders may also have acquired stronger mounts through purchase, tribute, or conquest. The Turks used an array of weapons to supplement their consistent use of the bow, including lances and swords. They tended to favor either narrow, straight-bladed swords, on the pattern of the early Islamic weapons, or very slightly curved sabers,56 and they preferred blades manufactured in China, India, or western Europe.
The Turks were also learning to adapt themselves to Frankish tactics. The Franks had already demonstrated on several occasions that if the Turks could be caught unawares, or if they allowed their forces to cluster, they were vulnerable to the Frankish heavy cavalry, which would swiftly overpower their light cavalry in hand-to-hand combat. The Turks’ goal, then, was to provoke the Frankish knights into a charge that could easily be evaded and would exhaust their horses. The Turks could then close in on the tired soldiers and pick them off. The Turks also increasingly made use of maces in combat, bludgeoning weapons that shattered flesh and bone on impact. Maces were not intended to cut through chain mail; rather, they sent shock waves through metal armor, thus circumventing the Franks’ considerable defensive advantage.
Opposing Ilghazi was a substantially smaller Antiochene army. Later Muslim authors suggested that Roger had mustered twelve thousand to twenty thousand troops, and an Armenian author estimated about eleven thousand (including six hundred heavy cavalry).57 Antioch’s chancellor, Walter, who was present at the battle, said that there were seven hundred cavalry and three thousand infantry, along with auxiliary forces.58 The figure of seven thousand to eleven thousand, with a core contingent of perhaps four thousand Frankish troops, feels reasonable and tallies well with the armies the Antiochene Franks had deployed in previous encounters. Additional troops would have been made up of mercenaries, as well as a large troop of Armenian allies.
The most important contingent within any Frankish army in the Crusader States was their heavy cavalry. These troops, despite their small numbers, were the fighters who really mattered. A successful charge by these armored cavalrymen could scatter vastly superior forces, as they had done at Tell Danith four years before. This tactical reality was fully understood by all sides in the Near East, and one Muslim writer acknowledged it freely: “A thousand [Turkish] horsemen will not [ordinarily] withstand the charge of three hundred Frankish knights.”59
The great strength of these heavy-cavalry formations was their horses. Medieval warhorses were specifically raised for battle on stud farms where stallions and mares were selectively bred and reared to be powerful weapons. Stud farms had been used since the Roman era, and the warhorses they produced, known as “destriers” or “coursers,” were extremely valuable, prized possessions. In the melee, such mounts were trained to barge into, bite, and kick their enemies, smashing enemy battle lines apart. They were trained to charge in close formation so that a squadron of knights would break upon an enemy formation as a solid block.
Medieval knights were equally well trained, often having been raised from childhood to handle both horses and arms. They were almost always heavily armored, generally wearing a long chain-mail jacket known as a “hauberk,” which was essentially a shirt made up of thousands of interlinked metal rings (full plate armor was not common until the early fourteenth century). Chain mail had been used since the Roman era and had the advantages of being tough and flexible. It also covered all parts of the torso equally, leaving no weak points. Hauberks were usually worn over padded clothing, which was designed to reduce the impact of an enemy’s blow. The hauberk could be supplemented by other chain-mail garments, such as the “coif” (essentially a chain-mail balaclava), which protected the head, neck, and upper chest. Chain-mail armor was extremely effective; Usama ibn Munqidh tells the story of his cousin Hittan, who had once been surrounded by Frankish knights, all hacking at him, but survived thanks to his chain-mail armor.60 For additional protection, knights wore helmets, which were often conical in shape and supplemented with a nose guard. Shields would also have commonly been used, often so-called kite shields, which look like an inverted teardrop and whose long tail covers a rider’s leg.
A knight’s close-combat weapons were generally a lance, a sword, and a dagger, but other arms could also be employed. Lances were carried to enhance the shock effect of the cavalry charge, with the momentum of the charging horse and rider lending it force. They could be held above the arm, like a javelin, or couched under the arm. The latter style became more common over time. Swords were generally double-edged and broad-bladed, designed to impact heavily on armored enemies.
An infantryman’s arms were less sophisticated than those carried by a knight. This was a time when a warrior’s role in battle was determined by his wealth and social status, so foot soldiers necessarily possessed less expensive equipment. In battle, they provided protection for the cavalry squadrons, which could shelter their unarmored horses from enemy arrows behind the infantry’s locked shields until the time came for them to unleash the full force of their charge. Infantrymen could wear chain mail and/or padded jackets, and they would often bear spears designed to fend off enemy horsemen.
Some might also carry missile weapons, and during the Crusades there was a growing awareness that such weapons were essential when tackling mounted Turkish archers. These would have been either bows or crossbows. The crossbow was more powerful, but it also took far longer to reload. It was not a medieval invention, having been used by the ancient Greeks, Romans, and Chinese, but it did not become a common weapon in medieval Europe until the eleventh century. Crossbows were used throughout the Crusades, and they were feared for their power. They typically had a range of about 220 yards (about 200 meters) and could pierce a piece of wood to a depth of almost three inches (seven centimeters).61 They provoked such fear that in 1139 the Second Lateran Council banned their use against Christians.62
When Ilghazi’s Turks arrived on the field of battle, Roger’s Frankish army was already in full array. His infantry forces were formed up to provide a perimeter against enemy attacks, screening the cavalry. Banners flew above the Christian army, and the sound of trumpets resounded off the neighboring hills. At the army’s center was its great cross, a mighty standard that contained a sacred relic, a piece of the True Cross of the Crucifixion. Messengers darted back and forth among the Christian contingents, relaying Roger’s instructions. The army’s cavalry was div
ided into individual commands, each under the control of a senior nobleman. These leaders had been instructed to charge sequentially directly into the enemy ranks, the idea being to hit their foes in percussive succession, like waves beating on the shore. The first wave was led by the elite battle line of Saint Peter, and this cohort was succeeded by companies under the command of Geoffrey the Monk, Guy Fresnel, and Robert of Saint Lo, and finally by the Turcopoles, warriors, often of Turkish, Eastern Christian, or mixed descent, who fought alongside the Franks as light cavalry.
After the opening maneuvers, Roger unleashed his cavalry on his Turkish foes, who were initially scattered by the Christian charge. This was a promising start, but during the charge the knightly companies lost cohesion and started to hamper one another. The fleeing Turks regrouped and joined a second wave of Turkish horsemen who countercharged the Frankish cavalry, both shooting at them with their bows and engaging in hand-to-hand combat. Confronted with this renewed onslaught, the left wing of the Christian line, composed of Robert of Saint Lo’s contingent and the Turcopoles, began to buckle. Soon the Turks routed the entire wing, and the fleeing horsemen impeded the contingents led by Roger of Salerno.
The battlefield degenerated into a general melee of struggling men. In the midst of this churning bloodbath, a strong wind picked up the dry soil that had been kicked up by the horses’ hooves, filling the air with thick dust that got into the warriors’ eyes and limited their vision (1118 had been a very dry year and the ground was parched).
While the main battle was raging, another cavalry column under Rainald Mazoir engaged one of the Turks’ advancing columns and put it to flight. With this success he should have been able to double back and rejoin the main army, but he was badly wounded in the fighting, and he and his forces had to take refuge in a nearby tower.63
As the battle wore on, the Christians began to falter. They had played their strongest card, the cavalry charge, and it had failed. Their enemies had been temporarily driven back, but neither their ranks nor their morale had been broken. With the heavy cavalry now locked in a bitter melee and on the defensive, it was only a matter of time before the Turks’ vast numerical superiority asserted itself. Slowly the knights were ground down until they were locked in a defensive huddle surrounded by enemies. Roger was knocked from his horse, and soon afterward, the great standard of the cross toppled. The enemy surged forward, sensing their advantage, although the Antiochene author Walter the Chancellor—who may have been in that small huddle—tells us that several Turks were struck down as soon as they reached out to grasp the cross, crushed by divine power.64
Soon it became clear that Roger was dead; a sword thrust had caught him on the nose and pierced his skull.65 A later legend states that Roger was initially captured, not killed. He was surrounded by Turks, who stripped him of his chain-mail armor and attempted to wrest his sword from his grip. He resisted these efforts to disarm him, saying he would only yield his sword to an enemy commander. His Turkish captors accepted his statement and sought out an emir. This Turkish leader duly arrived and, taking off his helmet, demanded the Antiochene ruler’s sword. Roger responded defiantly by slicing off the emir’s head and was cut down immediately by his bodyguard.66 Whatever really happened, Roger was dead.
With the collapse of the knightly companies, the survivors and the remaining foot soldiers tried to make a last stand on a nearby hill, seeking to muster sufficient numbers to deter attack and to negotiate their escape. This was a vain hope, and they were torn apart. Very few from their ranks—or indeed, from the Frankish army as a whole—escaped. Many prisoners were taken, including an envoy from the Byzantine emperor who had come to negotiate a marriage alliance with Antioch. The envoy was later ransomed for fifteen thousand bezants and traveled south to discuss another marriage agreement with Baldwin II of Jerusalem.67 The captives (about five hundred) were tightly bound; the wounded were beaten to death with rods and scalped (a steppe custom).68
The Field of Blood was a brutal encounter in which the Turks realized the full advantage of their substantial numbers, while employing their maneuverability to outflank and surround their enemies. Their decision to attack in waves, with the first provoking and absorbing the Christian charge, helped them absorb the impact of the Frankish heavy cavalry, and their archers exacted a grim toll among the Frankish horses. A later Arabic author commented that after the battle, the Franks’ fallen steeds were so riddled with arrows that they looked like hedgehogs.69 There was nothing especially new about such tactics. They were the cultural norm for Turkish light-cavalry commanders, but they had been used to devastating effect. The Turks seemed to have worked well in concert, executing a simple but effective strategy, and this reflects well on Ilghazi’s ability to communicate a clear battle plan to a large mixed force of tribal Turkmen warriors.
From the Christian perspective, the initial cavalry charge was clearly a disaster. The knights allowed themselves to be drawn too far away from the relative security of their infantry lines. As they did in most battles, they relied on their mounted shock troops to negate their enemies’ substantial numerical advantage, but this time the horsemen failed to inflict sufficient trauma on their enemies to create a cascade reaction of panic.
With the almost complete annihilation of the Antiochene army, the principality was wide open. The Turkmen crisscrossed its hinterlands, pillaging everything within range and reaching as far as Antioch itself and even beyond to the Amanus range, where they killed a group of monks in the Black Mountain region.70 While Antioch’s estates were being systematically plundered, its strongholds along the Aleppan frontier were falling. Artah surrendered almost immediately. Al-Atharib’s citadel was taken, and its garrison, including some refugees from Aleppo, capitulated. Zardana also fell. Antioch’s crisis only deepened when Tughtakin arrived with his Damascene army, supplementing Ilghazi’s horde.71
Reflecting on this catalog of victories, the Muslim author Ibn al-Qalanisi expressed his exasperation that Ilghazi did not immediately attempt to conquer Antioch itself, ending the Frankish principality once and for all.72 The thought must surely have occurred to him, but the goal was probably out of his reach. He may have brought together a large company of Turkmen, but they were raiders. Many had simply drifted off after the battle to pillage the surrounding countryside. Moreover, the Turkmen existed in a world defined by movement and the search for pastureland, not by the geopolitics of agricultural societies. They may not have attached much importance to the capture and retention of a major urban center, lying so far from their homelands, nor would they necessarily have been keen to engage in a difficult siege, for which they were ill-suited. As for Ilghazi, he had only recently taken control in Aleppo, and his tenure in that city was far from secure. Acquiring a second major city, simmering with resentment and rebellion, would probably have seemed both overambitious and unappealing. Better to give the Turkmen the plunder they wanted and focus on securing Aleppo’s frontiers. Whatever his motives, Ilghazi did not move to besiege Antioch.
Another warning light appearing in Ilghazi’s strategic planning would have been the rapid advance of the king of Jerusalem from the south. Baldwin had responded quickly to Roger’s summons for help and had set out briskly along the coast road toward Antioch. En route he collected Pons, count of Tripoli, and their combined force arrived in Antioch in early August 1119, defeating a Turkmen raiding party during the final stages of their journey. He arrived in Antioch to find its people in a state of high alert. The patriarch had temporarily taken charge of the city and prepared its defenses for an attack. Baldwin relieved him of command and immediately began to lay plans that would ensure Antioch’s survival.
Baldwin’s first move was to hold a council to arrange for the succession. Bohemond’s son Bohemond II was the natural choice, but he was only a boy of eleven years, and so it was decided that Baldwin himself would govern Antioch until Bohemond II reached adulthood. The council also agreed that Bohemond II would marry one of Baldwin’s daughters, ceme
nting ties between their states.73
The king of Jerusalem then summoned Antioch’s remaining fighting strength, ordering the principality’s surviving warriors to gather at the capital. Messengers were also sent to the Edessans commanding them to dispatch their forces as soon as possible. Baldwin II of Jerusalem was still technically count of Edessa, having only recently become king, so he could issue this order directly. Once he had assembled this hastily formed army, Baldwin set out eastward to seek battle with Ilghazi. He made camp at Tell Danith, where Roger had triumphed back in 1115.
Ilghazi was well aware of this new threat, and he set out to meet Baldwin. At the crack of dawn on August 14, Baldwin deployed his army. It was not a large force. A Muslim chronicler suggests that it included only four hundred knights and additional infantry; a Christian author suggests a knightly contingent of seven hundred.74 Either way, they were substantially outnumbered, and the odds facing Baldwin were probably greater than those Roger had confronted at the Field of Blood. Ilghazi’s own position was exceptionally strong. Not only would his men have been ebullient in the wake of their earlier victory, but his ranks were supplemented by Tughtakin’s army and by several large contingents of Arab warriors; seemingly news of Antioch’s weakness had spread far and wide, and many had been drawn to the prospect of feasting on its bones.75
The Field of Blood: The Battle for Aleppo and the Remaking of the Medieval Middle East Page 12
