In Distant Lands

by Lars Brownworth

  The most enthusiastic of Peter's followers decided they couldn't wait any longer and split off from the main force. They were led by Walter Sans-Avoir, one of the few minor French lords who had followed Peter. Walter's surname is often rendered in English as 'Penniless'30 but he was far from poor. In fact, Walter was the lord of a region in the Île-de-France just to the west of Paris, who had started out with eight attending knights and a small company of foot soldiers.

  Leading a group by now several thousand strong, Walter followed the Rhine to the Danube and reached the Hungarian border by early May, 1096. He managed to keep good order among his followers and was granted safe passage and supplies by the king of Hungary. All went well until they reached Belgrade, the border between Hungary and the Byzantine empire. As they waited to be ferried across the river Save into imperial territory, sixteen of Walter's men tried to rob a bazaar in the neighboring city of Semlin, but were captured by the local militia. All things considered, they escaped lightly. Their weapons and clothes were hung on the walls as a warning, and the naked but unharmed men were sent back to Walter.

  That should have ended the affair, but instead it escalated it. The humiliated crusaders decided to pillage the countryside, and the annoyed locals decided to fight back. Walter's disorganized rabble had the worst of it, with several of his men being burned alive in a church where they had taken refuge. Thankfully, before tensions could escalate further, the Byzantine emperor hurried supplies to Belgrade along with a military escort to prevent further mischief.

  The emperor's generosity was motivated in part by the knowledge that Peter the Hermit's far larger group was only a few weeks behind. Their journey hadn't been easy. Peter's crusaders had failed to bring enough supplies with them, apparently under the impression that locals would be happy to contribute whatever they needed in view of their holy endeavor. When this generosity failed to materialize, the crusaders began to take what they wanted by force, moving from petty robbery to outright pillaging.

  Serious trouble began when Peter reached Semlin where the clothing of Walter's men still hung from the walls. The governor of the city tried to tighten up security but in the charged atmosphere an argument over a pair of shoes escalated into a pitched battle. After sacking the city thoroughly, Peter's army crossed into Byzantine territory and attacked Belgrade. This turned out to be a serious mistake. There were imperial forces in the area that had been tasked with escorting the crusaders to Constantinople. When Peter’s army attacked Belgrade, the Byzantine troops converged on them, easily scattering the disorganized crusaders.

  The disaster was nearly the end of the People's Crusade. Peter the Hermit fled with five hundred men up a nearby mountainside believing that everyone else had been killed. Only in the morning, when seven thousand survivors had straggled in, did he realize that the defeat hadn't been fatal.

  Thanks to a large imperial escort, and the lesson of humility that went along with losing both the treasury and a quarter of the men, the rest of the journey to Constantinople was without incident. The Byzantine guides kept them well supplied and under close watch, and thanks to their enforced good behavior, local attitudes became noticeably warmer. Many were moved to tears at the sight of the army – some of whom were in rags – and donated money, horses, or mules.

  Morale was improved when they reached Constantinople where they were rejoined by Walter Sans-Avoir's group and several other small groups that had trickled in. Their entrance into the city was closely restricted, but as a sign of imperial favor the emperor Alexius invited Peter to meet with him to discuss strategy in the imperial palace.31

  Constantinople

  The sight of the imperial capital must have been overwhelming for the crusaders. Unlike western cities that were relatively small, Constantinople boasted a population of nearly a million.32 It was the physical and spiritual center of the fabled Roman Empire, a still vibrant survivor of the ancient world. Its emperor was a direct successor of Augustus, and its citizens still roared to the delights of the Hippodrome as their ancestors had. It was, particularly to medieval eyes, a place of wonders.

  The great land walls, the most formidable defensive fortifications ever constructed, were crossed by nine main gates, the most famous of which was the ceremonial Golden Gate. It was a vast Roman triumphal arch with three large doors, white marble lined with bronze and gold and surmounted with statues of elephants pulling a victorious chariot. Everywhere the eye looked there were splendid mosaics and breathtaking works of art from the vanished world of antiquity. Far more impressive than the gleaming palaces and exotic wares, however, was the city's vast collection of relics. Nearly every church held the clothes or bones of a saint, and over the centuries pious emperors had collected an unrivaled collection of the venerated items of the Christian world. A pilgrim to the city could find anything from the mundane – the tools used by Noah to build the Ark and the swaddling clothes of Christ – to the more exotic – vials of Christ's blood or the Virgin's breast milk.

  The most precious of these were housed in a special palace chapel or exhibited in the city's greatest cathedral, the Hagia Sophia. There was no building like it in the world. In an age of dark, heavy architecture, the Church of Divine Wisdom rose in graceful, bright lines. A worshiper who entered through its enormous imperial door – a gateway encrusted with silver whose lintel was supposedly made from the wood of Noah's ark – would gaze in wonder at the walls made of multi-chromed marble imported from all over the Mediterranean world, and the vast interior space. The massive central dome rose eighteen stories above the ground, and the ceiling was covered with four acres of gold mosaic.33 Around the base of the dome, the builders had placed windows lined with gold. As light flooded into the building, this made it appear as if the dome itself were floating on a sea of light.

  There were few who could enter such a space and remain unmoved. When a visiting Russian delegation heard a mass inside the cathedral they famously wrote back to their monarch, "We knew not whether we were in heaven or on earth."34

  The emperor Alexius I was well aware of the power that the imperial trappings could inspire, and he made full use of it to both intimidate and flatter his guests. Peter was taken to the Great Palace – a sprawling complex of buildings covering more than four and a half acres – and there the impoverished itinerant preacher came face to face with the Eastern Roman emperor. As Peter entered the octagonal hall of the Chrysotriklinos – literally the 'golden reception room' – his eyes would have been drawn to the great imperial throne framed by a monumental icon of Christ as divine judge with his hand raised in a gesture of blessing or command. Equally impressive was a marvelous tree of gilded bronze with jeweled songbirds in its branches and two golden lions crouched at the foot of the throne. At the touch of a lever the birds would burst into song and the lions stand and roar, an effect that usually produced a mix of wonder and fear.

  Under normal circumstances, such surroundings would be intimidating enough, but Peter was particularly susceptible because he was uncertain of exactly what to do next. In France and Germany the immediate goals had been obvious. The 'great Christian army' would gather and march to Jerusalem. But the actual plans for getting to the Holy Land were still up in the air. Urban had issued no concrete details other than a vague instruction for everyone to meet at Constantinople. Peter either had to wait for more armies to arrive and risk frustrating his men or cross into enemy territory immediately.

  For his part, the emperor Alexius was less than thrilled with the arrival of the People's Crusade. When news had first reached him that a 'crusade' was on its way, he had been horrified. He had asked for some mercenaries to stiffen his armies, but now was facing a motley horde that was clearly not even under the control of its own leaders. After reports of the sheer numbers on the move, the emperor's daughter, the historian Anna Comnena wrote in alarm that 'all the tribes of the west... were moving in a body towards Asia'.

  The first sight of Peter's group did nothing to alleviate the emperor's
concern. Although apparently impressed by Peter's holiness, Alexius correctly realized that the rabble he had brought with him stood no chance against the Turks. Using his famous charm, the emperor convinced Peter that his only hope lay in waiting for the proper armies to arrive.

  This was sound advice, but unfortunately Peter's influence over the crusade had been waning for some time, and he no longer had effective control. The rank and file soldiers saw the wait in Constantinople as intolerable, a betrayal of their mandate to liberate Jerusalem. The obvious wealth around them seemed an additional insult. They were fighting the good fight on behalf of these soft eastern Christians, weren't they entitled to some sort of compensation? At first they were content with petty thefts but they quickly moved on to outright pillaging, breaking into the palaces and villas of the suburbs, and even stealing the lead from the roofs of churches. Within six days of their arrival, Alexius' patience was exhausted. The crusaders were given money and supplies, advised to stick to the coasts where the imperial navy could resupply them, and ferried across to Asia Minor.

  Disintegration

  Despite having landed in Asia, the crusaders weren't yet in enemy territory. Byzantium still owned a thin strip of the coast and the locals could reasonably be expected to act as advisors and guides. Peter, however, either failed to inform his soldiers of this or more likely simply couldn't control them. The only thing everyone could agree on was that they should go east, so the crusade began a disorganized march along the Asiatic shore, pillaging homes and churches as they went. The shambling advance thoroughly terrified the local Christians, who mostly tried to stay out of the way, and without guides, violent arguments started to erupt over which direction to go.

  Tensions reached boiling point when they reached the ruins of Nicomedia, present-day Izmit, an imperial city still deserted from a Turkish sack a decade and a half before. Here the crusade shattered along ethnic lines: the Germans elected their own leaders while the French – rather reluctantly – stuck with Peter the Hermit.

  At this point Peter finally began to show sensible leadership. While the Germans busied themselves in stripping the countryside of supplies, further poisoning relations with local Christians, Peter led the French south along the coast. His destination was a fortified village called Civetot roughly twenty miles from Nicomedia, which had been stocked with supplies by Alexius.35 Strategically located in a fertile plain on the Gulf of Nicomedia, it would provide safety and an easy access to the sea. There they could dig in and wait for reinforcements to arrive from Constantinople.

  Unfortunately this reasonable plan only served to undercut Peter's authority. Where had the fiery preacher who had blasted the nobility for their lack of faith gone? How had he become this trembling coward who bowed to emperors and kept urging caution? As if to confirm everyone's worst suspicions, within a few weeks Peter announced that he was returning to the capital to confer with the emperor about what to do next.

  In his absence, a competition began with the Germans to see who could gather the most loot. In the early fall, a group of French knights managed to get as far as the gates of Nicaea, present-day Iznik, the capital of the local Turkish emirate.

  Nicaea was an important city for Christians. Almost eight centuries before, it had hosted the first great gathering of the Church. Presided over by Constantine the Great, the Council of Nicaea had weighed in on matters as important as episcopal elections to setting the appropriate date to celebrate Easter. Even more symbolically, Nicaea was largely responsible for the statement of faith that every good crusader knew by heart.36

  Over the years the city had become wealthy, a condition that continued when it became the Turkish capital a decade before the First Crusade. When the French knights arrived, therefore, they found a rich countryside with a scattering of villages and towns outside the walls. Even better, Kilij Arslan, the Turkish emir, was away dealing with a rebellion at the other end of his territory. The crusaders weren't numerous enough to try a siege of the city, so they set to work plundering the countryside with appalling savagery.37 When the Turkish garrison of Nicaea sallied out to stop them, the crusaders managed to rout them.

  The French returned to Civetot brimming with loot and confidence, and were soon boasting about their exploits. The Germans, not to be outdone, marched further inland where they discovered an abandoned castle that could be used as a base for further raiding. At first, all went well. The Germans had marched with more care than the French, and by refraining from attacking the local Christians, had ensured less resistance.

  Unfortunately, however, news of the previous French attacks had spread to the emir and he had swiftly returned with his army. The Germans retreated to their castle, only to discover that they had made a serious miscalculation. Although they had plenty of food, the only water source was from a small stream, well outside of the walls of the fortress. The Turkish army immediately began a siege, and within a few days, the Germans were in agony.

  Desperate for water, the crusaders attempted to suck the moisture from clumps of earth. Others cut the veins of their horses and donkeys for the blood or drank each other's urine. After eight days of torment, the German commander surrendered on the condition that he would convert to Islam. His men were given the same choice. Those who converted were hauled off into slavery, the rest were slaughtered.

  Kilij Arslan made the most of his victory. He forged a letter to the French from the Germans boasting that they had taken Nicaea and captured a vast amount of loot. He then positioned his army just outside Civetot and waited.

  The letter had the desired effect, but before the French could go charging off to share in the glory, news of the real disaster trickled in. The excited atmosphere turned to panic, and for several hours there was chaos as no one figure could gain control. Eventually Walter Sans-Avoir managed to restore order, but opinion was split between waiting for Peter to return with reinforcements and marching out immediately to avenge the Germans. After several days of hesitating, the decision was made to advance.

  The crusaders left the camp with everyone who was able, leaving behind only the women and children to take care of those who were too sick or old to fight. They numbered close to twenty thousand, but were hardly an impressive force. They moved in a disorganized line, without an advance guard or even scouts to warn them of what was ahead. Three miles from Civetot they blundered into the Turkish ambush. The fight, if it can be called that, was over within minutes. Those who weren't killed outright, fled back to their camp.

  At Civetot, most of those remaining in the camp were still asleep. The few priests who had stayed behind were just starting the morning mass when a great cloud of dust was seen rising from the direction the crusaders had marched. Before most of the breakfast fires had been lit, a great mass of terrified refugees came screaming into the camp. On their heels was the Turkish army. In such conditions there could be no real resistance. The old and sick were slaughtered in their beds, the priests as they were saying their prayers. The most attractive boys and girls were spared, to be sent to the slave markets of Baghdad.

  The only survivors were three thousand knights who were able to reach an old castle on the shore. The doors and windows had decayed long ago, but the desperate crusaders managed to plug them with corpses and salvaged driftwood. Somehow – without food or water – they managed to hold out until word of the disaster reached Alexius. He immediately alerted the imperial navy and, at the sight of the warships sailing into Civetot's harbor, the besieging Turks fled.

  The pitiful remnants of the People's Crusade limped back to Constantinople where they found their one-time leader, Peter the Hermit, waiting for them. It must have been a poignant reunion. Most of those he knew – including Walter Sans-Avoir – lay among the unnumbered dead at Civetot. They had set out to conquer the Holy Land, assured that their passion would see them through. Now they lay huddled in one of Constantinople's harbors, at the mercy of a foreign monarch, all their grand dreams broken. Peter himself still had a part to p
lay, but the ultimate fate of his soldiers was fitting enough. The emperor Alexius generously gave them quarters in the suburbs of the great city and accepted them as citizens.

  First, however, he made sure to confiscate their weapons.

  Chapter 3: The Prince's Crusade

  “Not even Plato himself... could give an adequate account of (Alexius’) mind.”

  – Anna Comnena38

  As Peter the Hermit's army was being slaughtered in Civetot, the nobility of Western Europe were making their final preparations to depart. News of the disaster didn't reach them before the 'official' crusade began, but the failure of a peasant army wouldn't have come as much of a shock. If anything, it proved that without the proper planning, a military expedition to the Middle East was doomed. They would have been wise to heed that lesson, but inexplicably, despite their superior resources, the princes of Europe were nearly as disorganized as the peasants.

  The main reason for this was that there was no clear leader for the crusade. Pope Urban II had hoped that one of the great kings of the west – Philip I of France, Henry IV of Germany, or William Rufus of England – would take the cross, and had therefore avoided naming a commander-in-chief.39 None of those notables, however, was secure – or willing – enough to leave their thrones for an unspecified amount of time, and so declined the invitation. Eventually, four major princes of France and Italy had come forward, but they were of roughly equal rank, and were unwilling to follow each other.

  In an attempt to provide some unity, Urban appointed Adhemar, the universally popular bishop of Le Puy, as his personal representative. It was a superb choice. Adhemar, a middle-aged cleric from a noble family of France, was a gifted diplomat who was used to managing egos. Cultured, easygoing, and used to persuading rather than commanding, he was also an experienced traveler who knew well the difficulties of the road to Jerusalem. He would have made an excellent commander. Unfortunately, however, the realities of medieval power made his role as leader largely an empty gesture. He may have had charisma in spades, but he lacked even the illusion of feudal authority. Each individual crusader had taken an oath to God – not the Church – and beyond that they were under the control of their feudal lord. Adhemar could advise, but no one had to listen.