THE HOLY LANCE.
The elation of the crusaders over the possession of Antioch was of
briefest duration. Their three days’ license, in the enjoyment of what
they had so ingloriously won, was terminated on the fourth day by
fearful menace. Kerbogha was really coming. To his own veteran
experience he added the wisdom of the most redoubtable sultans and emirs
of Syria, Asia Minor, and Persia, who commanded an army of one hundred
thousand horse and three hundred thousand foot. So stealthily had they
approached that the news was conveyed to the Christians only by their
observing from the walls the advance of the mighty host as it dashed
through the camps but recently consecrated to the cross. Quickly the
Moslems completed their investment of the city. The Christians could
make no foray over the fields, and no provisions were allowed to reach
them from the port. To add to their fears, the citadel of Antioch had
not fallen into their hands with the rest of the city, and was still
occupied by watchful foes. They were thus assailed from without and from
within the walls.
The gay robes, costly gems, and arms which the Christians had taken were
no compensation for the lack of provisions. Godfrey paid fifteen silver
marks for the flesh of a half-starved camel. Knights killed for meat the
proud chargers they loved oftentimes more than they did their companions
in arms, who were now their greedy contestants for what scanty provision
remained. Common soldiers gnawed the leather off shoes and shields, and
some dug from the graves and devoured the putrid flesh of the Turks they
had slain. We might doubt this horrible deed were not similar acts of
cannibalism confessed by Godfrey and Raymond in a letter to the Pope,
written a year later. Every morning revealed the numbers of those who
had deserted during the night, among whom were some of the most famous
warriors, such as the counts of Melun and Blois and Chartres. In the
general despair even faith gave way. Men cursed the God who had deserted
them while they were defending His cause, and the priests hesitated to
perform the rites of religion among a people who had become as infidel
as the foe they sought to destroy.
The Greek emperor, Alexius, started out from Constantinople with an
army, but upon hearing of the desperate straits of the Latins returned,
leaving them to their fate. The Christians, it is said, offered to
capitulate to Kerbogha upon condition of being permitted to return to
Europe in abandonment of the crusades. Godfrey and Adhemar, the one in
the name of all that was valiant among men, the other as the
representative of the Pope, presumably speaking for Heaven, remonstrated
in vain. The refusal of even so much mercy by the Moslems alone
prevented the consummation of this disgrace. The warriors who had won
the applause of Europe then sat sullenly in their houses and could not
be prevailed upon to fight along the walls, believing that additional
wounds would only protract their woe without averting the final
catastrophe.
In this hour of abject despair the besieged were reinspirited by an
occasion which is as much the marvel of the psychologist as of the
historian. In the prostration of bodily nature through hunger and
disease, imagination often tyrannizes the faculties. Man becomes the
prey of unrealities; his dreams create a new world, generally of terror,
but often of hope. Then it is that the demons and angels of theory
materialize into seeming facts. Thus the emaciated men in the
beleaguered camp were ready to believe the story of a priest, who
related that Christ had appeared to him, denouncing destruction upon His
faithless followers, but that at the intercession of the Virgin Mary the
Lord was appeased, and promised immediate victory if the soldiers of His
cross would once more valiantly endeavor to merit it. At the same time
two deserters returned to the camp, relating how the Saviour had met
them and turned them back from flight. But the crowning miracle was
revealed to the priest, Peter Barthelemi. St. Andrew appeared to him and
said, “Go to the church of my brother St. Peter in Antioch. Near the
principal altar you will find, by digging into the earth, the iron head
of the lance which pierced the side of our Redeemer. Within three days
this instrument of salvation shall be manifested to His disciples. This
mystical iron, borne at the head of the army, shall effect the
deliverance of the Christians and shall pierce the hearts of the
Infidels.” For two days the people fasted; on the morning of the third
day twelve trusty knights and ecclesiastics dug at the appointed spot,
while the multitude remained in silence and prayer about the church. All
day long they waited. At midnight there was no response to their
expectation. As the twelve ceased their labors, and were bowed in
renewed petition around the excavation, Peter Barthelemi suddenly leaped
into the hole. In a moment he reappeared bearing a lance-head in his
hands. The news spread through the city as if shouted by angels. The
effect upon the desponding minds of the soldiers was like the revival of
life in the dead bodies of Ezekiel’s valley of vision. Some, it is true,
shook their heads, or, like Foulcher of Chartres, declared that the
lance had been concealed by Barthelemi in the designated place. Whether
really credulous, or shrewd enough to try any new expedient, the leaders
were loudest in heralding the discovery as miraculous.
Peter the Hermit was sent to announce to the Moslems the decree of
Heaven for their immediate overthrow. Sultan Kerbogha, however, proved a
match for the zealot in vituperative bravado and religious devotion. He
haughtily declared but one condition of his raising the siege, namely,
the acknowledgment by the Christians that “Allah is great, and Mohammed
is His prophet.” “Bid thy companions,” said he to Peter, “take advantage
of my clemency; to-morrow they shall leave Antioch only under the sword.
They will then see if their crucified God, who could not save Himself
from the cross, can save them from the fate I have prepared for them.”
With that he drove Peter and his band of deputies back to their walls.
The Christians ate that night what they deliberately called their last
supper in Antioch. With the remnant of bread and wine they celebrated
mass. At dawn the city gates were thrown open, and in twelve divisions
the host marched out, following the standard of the Holy Lance. The
clergy went first, as in the days of Jehoshaphat, singing their faith in
coming victory. The words of the psalm, “Let God arise, and let His
enemies be scattered,” seemed to be answered by invisible hosts on the
mountains, who took up the crusaders’ war-cry of “Deus vult!” Excited
imaginations saw the mountains filled with the chariots of the Lord, as
in the days of Elisha. But to the eye of flesh the Christian host
presented a sorry spectacle. Many limped with wounds or trudged slowly
from weakness; most were in rags, many were stark naked. The prancing
charger had been changed for a camel or ass, and many a knight was
reduced to the condition of a foot-soldier, and shouldered his spear.
Sultan Kerbogha haughtily refused to leave a game of chess he was
playing, to listen to what he supposed would be an entreaty for mercy
from the entire Christian army, that was coming to throw itself at his
feet; but he was soon undeceived. With sudden dash, Count Hugh attacked
and cut to pieces two thousand of the enemy who guarded the bridge
before the city. The main body of Christians formed against the
mountains and, thus shielded from a rear attack, advanced steadily upon
the foe. The surprise of Kerbogha did not prevent that experienced
soldier from seeing the advantage gained by his assailants. Under flag
of truce he proposed to decide the issue by battle between an equal
number of braves selected from either side. The enthusiasm of the
Christian host forbade such a limitation of the honor of attaining what
seemed to all a certain victory. Heaven gave manifest token of favor in
a strong wind, that sped the missiles of the crusaders, while it
retarded those of their foes. In vain did Kerbogha storm them in front,
while Kilidge-Arslan, having climbed the mountain, attacked their rear.
The Turks had fired the bushes to bewilder the Christians, but through a
dense smoke there appeared a squadron descending the mountains, led by
three horsemen in white and lustrous armor. These were recognized as St.
George, St. Demetrius, and St. Theodore, the same materialized spirits
that had been seen upon the plains of Nicæa. With a superhuman fury and
strength, the Christians broke upon the Moslems as a tornado upon a
forest, making through the opposing ranks a path of utter destruction.
When this breath of heaven had passed one hundred thousand Infidels lay
dead upon the field. Fifteen thousand camels, a proportionate number of
horses, immense stores of provisions, and priceless treasures enriched
the victors. The tent of Kerbogha, capable of covering over two thousand
persons, glowing like a vast gem with jewels and tapestries, was taken
and sent to Italy, where the sight of it inflamed the greed of new bands
of crusaders.
Those who are disinclined to believe in the heavenly portents that aided
the Christians may content themselves with the explanation which the
Moslem writers give of their defeat. They relate that the Arabs had
quarrelled with the Turks, and retired from the field before the battle;
that the latter pursued their coreligionists more bitterly than they
fought the common enemy. The credulity of the Christians also abated
when they discovered that the camps of Kerbogha were more adorned than
fortified. Then, too, they recalled the skill and courage of their own
assault, and listened to the thousand stories of the Christians’ exploit
from the lips of the performers. Pride, if not reason, triumphed over
superstition, and the Holy Lance fell into disparagement. A letter from
the leaders to Pope Urban, written from Antioch just after this battle
acknowledged that the divine weapon “restored our strength and courage”;
but the writers are more particular to tell how “we had learned the
tactics of the foe” and, “by the grace and mercy of God, succeeded in
making them unite at one point.” Later the Christian host was divided
into two parties, who contended violently for and against the
credibility of the miracle. Normans and the crusaders from the north of
France were rationalistically inclined, while the men from the south
adhered to the story as told by their geographical representative, Peter
Barthelemi, the priest from Marseilles, who had discovered the sacred
symbol. The veracity of Peter was finally subjected to trial by Ordeal.
A vast pile of olive-branches was erected. A passage several feet in
width was left through the middle of the heap. When the wood had been
fired, Peter appeared, bearing the Holy Lance. As he faced the flames a
herald cried, “If this man has seen Jesus Christ face to face, and if
the Apostle Andrew did reveal to him the divine lance, may he pass safe
and sound through the flames; but if, on the contrary, he be guilty of
falsehood, may he be burned.” The assembled host bowed and answered,
“Amen.” Peter ran with his best speed down the fiery aisle. The furious
heat impeded him. He seemed to have fallen, and disappeared amid the
crackling branches and smoke. At length, however, he emerged at the
other end of the flaming avenue amid the cries of his partisans, “A
miracle! a miracle!” Yet the test was indecisive, for, while Peter
succeeded in running the gantlet, he was terribly burned, and was
carried in mortal agony to the tent of Raymond, where a few days later
he expired. It is to be noted that from that time the Holy Lance wrought
no more miracles, even in the credulity of its most reverent adorers.