THE FALL OF ANTIOCH.
After seven months of valorous assault and defence, Antioch at length
was gained. It fell, however, not as the prize of honorable conquest,
but as the price of treachery, disgraceful to both those within and
those without the walls. Phirous, an Armenian Christian, had abjured his
faith in order to secure promotion in the Turkish service. In reward he
was given position, and now commanded three of the principal towers.
Divining a similar, if not equal, unconscionableness in Bohemond,
Phirous made known to him his willingness to recant his new vows as a
Moslem and again betray his trust for larger reward in the Christian
ranks. Bohemond announced to the other chiefs his possession of a secret
by which Antioch might easily be taken, but refused to reveal it except
upon their agreement to assign to him the independent sovereignty of the
Syrian capital. The proposal at first met with the contempt and rage of
his fellow-leaders, which were expressed to his face in the hot words of
Raymond, who declared that Bohemond proposed to “repay with the
conquests of valor some shameful artifice worthy of women.” Bohemond was
as brazen as he was brave, and endured this insult. Reports became rife
that Kerbogha, Sultan of Mosul, was advancing to the relief of his
coreligionists. Bohemond, through his emissaries, magnified the alarm
until the besiegers anticipated the attack of an army of two hundred
thousand, whose cimeters were dripping with the blood of victory over
all the peoples west of the Euphrates. Under this menace the chiefs
chose the valor of discretion, and, not without lamentation at the
shameful necessity, yielded to the ambition of their comrade.
The scheme of Phirous came near miscarriage at the very moment of
execution. Accian, the commandant at Antioch, suspicious of treachery,
ordered all the Christians in the city to be seized and massacred that
very night. Summoning Phirous, he subjected him to severest examination,
but the shrewdness of the wretch completely veiled his duplicity.
Phirous tried to induce his own brother to join him in his treachery.
The man refused, and, lest he should reveal the plot, Phirous plunged
his dagger to his heart.
A comet, which had appeared in the early evening sky, was regarded as an
omen favorable to the scheme. The subsequent dense darkness of the night
and the roar of sudden storm shielded the forms and drowned the
footfalls of the plotters. At a given signal Phirous dropped from the
wall a ladder of leather, which was quickly mounted by one of Bohemond’s
men. As the traitor Phirous stood by the parapet conversing with the
intruders, he was startled by the glare of a lantern in the hand of an
officer making his round of inspection, but his ready tact diverted
suspicion. The agent of Bohemond descended the ladder and reported all
in readiness for the assault; but the Christians were held back by a
strange spell. Men who were accustomed to brave death without a question
at the command of their princes, could not be prevailed upon by either
threatening or promise to venture into this unknown danger. Moral
courage is the strongest stimulus to physical daring, and this
treacherous project failed to supply the heroic incentive. Bohemond
himself was compelled to set the perilous example; but no one followed
until he descended to assure them by his presence that he had not fallen
into some deadly trap. Then one by one the bravest knights, such as
Foulcher of Chartres and the Count of Flanders, emulated Bohemond’s
bravery. The parapet was overweighted by the assailants, who were massed
upon its edge, and gave way, precipitating many upon the lance-points of
those below them. But the thunders of the storm drowned the crash of the
falling masonry. Securing the three towers of Phirous’s command, the
crusaders opened the city gates to the dense ranks that waited without.
With the cry of “Deus vult! Deus vult!” the infuriated multitude poured
into the city. The Moslems, as they came from their homes and barracks
at the rude awakening, were slaughtered without having time for
resistance. Through all houses not marked by some symbol of the
Christian faith the crusaders raged; cruelty and lust knew no restraint.
The dawn revealed over six thousand corpses in the streets. Accian
escaped the Christian soldiers, only to meet a less honorable death at
the hands of a woodman while in flight through the forest. Phirous was
abundantly rewarded for his treachery, but two years later he reëmbraced
Moslemism in expectation of larger gains. In the anathemas of Christian
and paynim he was consigned to the hell in which both believed.