BATTLE OF DORYLÆUM—TARSUS—DEFECTION OF BALDWIN.
From Nicæa the Christians advanced (June 29, 1097) through Asia Minor
towards the Holy Land. Their march was over a roadless country,
threading the ravines and climbing the precipices of mountains, across
plains desolated by the retreating foe, under the burning heat of the
midsummer sun, and exposed to the guerilla attacks of a half-beaten
enemy, whose main army was rapidly recruiting and waiting with double
its former numbers to renew the battle.
In order to procure provisions, the crusaders divided their forces—one
band under Bohemond, Tancred, Count Hugh, and Robert of Normandy, the
other under Godfrey, Raymond, Adhemar, and Robert of Flanders. The
former had camped with confident security in a little valley near
Dorylæum in Phrygia. On the morning of July 1st sudden clouds of dust
appeared on the height above, and a storm of arrows and missiles
announced the attack of Kilidge-Arslan. Bohemond had scarcely arranged
his people for battle when the Turks were upon him. With their lighter
armor and swifter steeds, they circled about the Christians, delivering
volleys of arrows, and escaping before the assault could be returned, as
hawks might assail a lion. If a valiant band of Christians pursued them
they dispersed in every direction, only to form again in a circle and
repeat their murderous attack. Many of the most valiant Christian
knights fell without being able to return a stroke. The Turkish numbers
were being constantly augmented by new arrivals. Kilidge-Arslan, at the
head of a body of his braves, made a sudden raid upon the Christian
camp, massacring the men and children and carrying off the women for his
seraglios.
But a bitter vengeance was taken. Robert of Normandy, snatching his
white banner, drove through the densest ranks of the foe with the
watchword of “Deus vult!” followed by Tancred, who was made doubly
valiant by having seen his brother William fall, pierced with arrows.
The captives were rescued, but the crusaders were exhausted, and retired
in despair behind the stockade of their camp. At noon, however, the air
was rent with new trumpet-calls. The hilltop shone with the armor of the
knights under Godfrey. The charge of this redoubtable warrior and fifty
chosen comrades broke upon the Turks like a thunderbolt. The opportune
arrival of Raymond gave the crusaders fifty thousand fresh horsemen, who
pursued the now panic-stricken enemy over the mountain. Three thousand
Turkish officers and a measureless multitude of men were slain. The camp
of Kilidge-Arslan was taken, and the crusaders pursued their way, laden
with provision and treasures. Mounted on the horses of their foes, they
pursued the flying remnant. To complete the enthusiasm of victory, it
was alleged that St. George and St. Demetrius had been seen fighting in
the Christian ranks. For many generations the peasants of that
neighborhood believed that once a year St. George, on horseback, with
lance in hand, could be seen by the worshippers in the little church
which was erected on the spot to commemorate his timely apparition.
The crusaders marched from the field of Dorylæum to new terrors, against
which it was not the province of sword or lance to contend. The
scattered Turks devastated the country along the line of march. Neither
field nor bin was left to be plundered. The roots of wild plants were at
times the only food of the pursuers. The July sun, always terrific in
what the ancients called “burning Phrygia,” beat upon them with unusual
balefulness. Falcons, which the knights had brought along to relieve the
tedium of the journey, fell dead from their masters’ arms. Many women
gave untimely birth to offspring, which perished in their first efforts
to inhale the hot atmosphere. Five hundred of the hapless multitude died
between a sunrise and sunset. One day some dogs, which had wandered off,
returned with moist sand upon their paw’s and coats; they had found
water. Following the trail of the brutes, the soldiers discovered a
mountain stream. The men plunged into it and drank so abundantly that
the multitude became water drunk; thus three hundred perished with the
fever flush of new-found life.
Passing through Cilicia, the advance under Tancred captured Tarsus, the
birthplace of St. Paul. But Baldwin, brother of Godfrey, contested with
Tancred the honor of its possession and a share of its spoil. Tancred
refused to allow either his own men or those of Baldwin to loot the
place, saying that he had not taken arms to pillage Christians. His flag
was torn from the ramparts and flung into the ditch. By a display of
moral courage equal to his physical prowess, Tancred restrained his
resentment, that the Christian host might not be divided. Baldwin, left
in possession of a part of the town, refused admission to a company of
crusaders, who, thus left exposed without the walls, were massacred by
the Turks. Popular indignation ran high against Baldwin, which he
ultimately assuaged by taking a horrible vengeance upon the Turks
remaining in Tarsus, not one of whom he left alive.
The crusaders at Tarsus received reinforcements by the arrival of a
fleet of Flemish and Dutch pirates, who, by the bribe of expected spoil,
were induced to sew the cross upon their garments.
Leaving a garrison in this city, Baldwin followed eastward in the track
of Tancred, whom he overtook at Malmistra. The rage of the soldiers of
Tancred against him could not be checked by the mild counsel of their
leader, whom they taunted with weakness. For once the self-restraint of
Tancred gave way. He led his men against Baldwin. A pitched battle
ensued, followed on the morrow by the embrace of the leaders in the
presence of their troops, and vows to expiate their mutual offences in
fresh blood of the common enemy.
The popularity of Tancred ill suited the ambition of his rival. Baldwin,
seemingly stung by the withdrawal of the confidence of his brethren,
nursed the project of leaving the crusading army and setting up a
kingdom for himself. He offered his aid to Thoros, the Armenian Prince
of Edessa, in Mesopotamia, who was at that time warring on his own
account against the Turks beyond the Euphrates. None of the crusading
chiefs seconded Baldwin’s project. With eighty knights and one thousand
foot-soldiers, he traversed the deserts. Upon his arrival at Edessa, in
the strange custom of the country the aged Thoros and his wife pressed
the count to their naked breasts, thus acknowledging him as son by
adoption. The fable of him who had warmed a serpent in his bosom only to
feel its sting was repeated in this case. With Baldwin’s knowledge, if
not with his connivance, an insurrection was stirred against Thoros,
which resulted in his being flung from the wall of his own castle.
Baldwin, thus installed in chief authority, confirmed his hold upon the
people by marrying an Armenian princess. All Mesopotamia acknowledged
him, and a Frankish knight was seen reigning on the Euphrates over the
richest part of ancient Assyria.
The defection of Baldwin was not ultimately detrimental to the crusades,
since his kingdom made a barrier on the north and east against the
Turkish and Saracenic hordes, and prevented their interfering more
readily with the Christians’ march upon Jerusalem, of which Baldwin
himself was one day to be king.