never been accomplished in any age. If some one cites the sons of
Israel and the miracles God performed for them, I shall offer
something more miraculous: an open sea filled with Gentiles; a cloud
of divine fear rising from a column among them; I shall point to the
light of divine hope offered to those whom Christ inspired, himself a
column of uprightness and strength, those who were comforted by the
food of the word of God only, like divine manna, when they had no
earthly hope. Those men spurned the heavenly food that they were
offered, and looked back in their minds and with their voices to the
Egypt they had left behind, but our men never looked back, but
instead eagerly embraced whatever poverty and suffering came upon
them. Certainly the steady, destructive starvation endured at
Antioch was also accompanied by noble scenes. In the midst of every
kind of poverty, than which nothing more painful had ever been
endured by men, how bravely did those men who did not refrain from
participating in this Christian drama perform. Those who were
present report that while the city was under siege, and the besiegers
and the inhabitants of the city were fighting hand-to-hand, it
frequently happened that, when the men withdrew on both sides, and
wisely and reasonably refrained from fighting, a contingent of boys,
some from the city, and some from our own camp, marched out and met
each other, to fight in a worthy manner. As we said at the beginning
of this history, when the expedition to Jerusalem spread throughout
the Western lands, fathers set out on the journey together with their
little sons. When it happened that the parents of some of them died,
the little boys continued to follow the army, and they grew
accustomed to the hardships. Their ability to tolerate privation was
in no way inferior to that of their elders. When they set up their
battle lines, they appointed leaders from among themselves, and they
called them Hugh the Great, Bohemund, the count of Flanders, the
count of Normandy, with different person playing each role. Whenever
they saw that their subjects were suffering from lack of food, they
went off to ask for food from the princes after whom they were named,
and these princes gave them enough supplies to nourish them properly
in their need. This remarkable army often challenged the city's
children, using long reeds as spears, weaving shields out of twigs,
and brandishing small arrows and missiles, according to what each
could do. As their elders looked on, both from the city and from the
encampment, the city children came out of the gates of the wall, and
our children came from the tents, to face each other in the middle of
the field. There one could see the shock of combat, the shouts on
both sides, and the bloody blows, delivered without mortal danger.
Often these preliminaries incited the hearts of the adults to go to
battle. For when they watched the souls burn within those weak limbs,
and they saw such frail muscles eagerly wielding arms, the adults
groaned at the sight of children on both sides being wounded, and
moved the children off the battle field, rushing forward themselves
to renew their usual fighting. Thus the Lord's army was scarcely
found at rest; every day some were practicing, while others were
fighting.
There was another kind of man in this army, who was bare-footed,
carried no arms, and was not permitted to have any money. Dirty,
naked, and poor, he marched in front of everyone, feeding on the
roots of herbs, and on the most wretched things that grow. A Norman,
well-born, said to have been formerly a knight, but now a
foot-soldier, he saw them wandering without a leader, and laid aside
his arms and the clothing he wore, wishing to declare himself their
king. He had himself called Tafur, a term taken from the barbarian
language. Among the pagans they are called Tafur whom we call, to
speak less literally, Trudennes, that is, men who kill time, that is,
who pass their time wandering aimlessly here and there. It was the
Tafur's custom, whenever the people he was leading arrived at a
bridge to be crossed, or at a narrow pass to be traversed, to rush
forward to observe very carefully, and if he saw that anyone of his
men possessed two deniers, he would quickly separate him from the
general group, order him to purchase arms, and assign him to the
section of the army that bore weapons. However, those in whom he saw
a love of the simple life, who had no impulse or desire to save money,
he made members of his inner circle. Perhaps some might think that
these men were not useful for the general good, and that he could
have fed others what he was uselessly giving to them. But no one can
describe how useful they were in carrying food, in collecting tribute,
in hurling stones during the sieges of cities. They were better at
carrying heavy burdens than the asses and mules, and they were as
good at hurling projectiles as the machines and launchers. Moreover,
when pieces of flesh were found among the pagan bodies at Marra, and
elsewhere, during a terrible famine, a hideous rumor (based on
something that had been done furtively and very rarely) circulated
widely among the pagans, that there were some men in the Frankish
army who eagerly fed upon the corpses of Saracens. To circulate this
rumor among them even more vividly, the men carried the battered
corpse of a Turk out in full view of the other Turks, set it afire,
and roasted it as if the flesh was going to be eaten. When they
learned what had happened, thinking that the charade was real, they
grew even more afraid of the fearlessness of the Tafurs than of our
other leaders. Like the ancient pagans, the Turks were tormented
more by unburied bodies than any Christian seems to be concerned with
his soul or fears damnation. To incite their wrath even more
fiercely, at the siege of Antioch the Bishop of Puy promulgated an
edict throughout the army, offering an immediate reward of twelve
deniers for every decapitated Turkish head brought to him. When the
bishop received the heads, he ordered them placed on long poles,
before the walls of the city, where the enemy could see them. When
they saw this, they squirmed in anguish. The bishop also did
something there, after consulting with our leaders, that I should not
pass over silently; when the inhabitants of the city understood that
our men were struggling because of the scarcity of food, our men
proceeded to yoke bulls to the plow, to dig up and seed the ground in
sight of the city. By this means the inhabitants of the city
understood that no cause could compel them to abandon the siege that
they had undertaken, since they were in the process of growing food
for the next year. These and other remarkable things were done on
this expedition, which we think can be described in their entirety by
no one. No one in any age has ever heard that any nation, without a
king, without a prince, departed from its own lands and that, under
God only, both the lowly and the great learned to carry the yoke, so
that the servant did not serve a master, nor did the lord claim
anything more than brotherhood from the servant. Thus, I say, we
cannot offer examples from the past to match this, nor do we think
that anything like this will occur in the future. Our argument is
based most of all on the fact that, after the capture of Jerusalem,
we saw so many Christian nations moving, so many people of great
dignity, so many battalions of noble knights, such a great number of
foot-soldiers setting out after those who had preceded them and
opened the way, that we understood that in wealth and in number we
might judge that this second movement was scarcely inferior to the
first. For who could describe how great a crowd of nobles, burghers,
and peasants, from Frankish lands alone (of the others I say nothing)
accompanied count Stephen, whom we mentioned earlier, and Hugh the
Great, brother of king Philip, when, later on, they again undertook
the journey to the tomb of the Lord? Not to speak of the count of
Burgundy, what shall I say of the count of Poitou, who brought not
only a large group of knights, but a crowd of young girls as well?
When his renown had been established everywhere, he came to
Constantinople and held a conference with the tyrant Alexis, the most
abominable of men. This wretched traitor informed the Turks by
letters of his arrival, before the count had left the royal city.
"Lo," he said, "the fattest sheep from France are moving in your
direction, led by a foolish shepherd." What more can I say? The
count went beyond the borders of the tyrannical prince; suddenly
before him stood an army of Turks, who scattered, preyed upon, and
conquered the disorganized foreigners. There Hugh the Great, struck
in the knee by an arrow, after a long illness died, and was buried at
Tharsa in Cilicia. They say that these things were done in the
province called Satyria.[248]
But count Stephen, with certain bishops of our kingdom, among whom
were Hugh of Soissons, William of Paris, fine, noble men, who were
splendid, accomplished young rulers, and Enguerrand of Laon--would
that he had been as preeminent in his religious belief as he was in
appearance and eloquence--together with many dignitaries of all ranks,
entered the city of Constantinople. The emperor summoned them into
his presence and rewarded their leaders with large gifts. They
consulted with him on whether they should follow the route of the
previous army, or some other, and he truthfully told them that they
did not have enough horsemen to take a route different from that of
the first expedition. However, thinking that they could do new
things and do them better than those who had preceded them, they
declared that they would go on to other regions. They also asked the
emperor to give orders that they might purchase supplies anywhere in
Grecian territory. He agreed, understanding that, in their insolence,
they were in effect bringing about their own ruin, which he foresaw
clearly, as he happily agreed to their error. They went into
Paphligonia, province unknown not only to pilgrims, but scarcely
mentioned in Scripture, where for some unknown reason they were
persuaded to enter the desert. The emperor urged them not to take
more than forty days worth of supplies, and discouraged them from
bringing more by promising that they could purchase supplies freely
anywhere for their entire journey through the land. Therefore,
having marched into these solitary depths, the mob foolishly moved
forward, without supplies, hoping that the opportunity they had been
promised to make purchases would come about, and they began to suffer
from terrible hunger, swelling up and dying, and the army, which was
following behind them, began to be annoyed by the stench of corpses
lying everywhere. At times, when the leaders of the starving
multitude castigated those in the rear for not more swiftly following
the knights in front of them, to avoid sudden attack by the Turks,
these men, driven by the pain of hunger, hoped and prayed that the
Turks would actually come. Now they had almost reached the borders
of Armenia, and the men were exhausted, and the animals dying of
starvation, when thousands of Turks suddenly attacked. But the
Franks, who seemed to be in charge of the front line, in spite of
their weariness, easily drove off the enemy forces. The next day,
when the Turks saw that the Franks had moved out of the front line,
and the Lombards, Ligurians, and Italians had taken their places,
alas, the enemy sensed the sluggishness of those in the front line
and attacked fiercely. Those who were in the vanguard and carried
the standards turned their backs shamefully, and the entire army,
already too weakened by hunger to flee, lay open to hideous slaughter.
Those who fled did not return in the direction whence they had come,
nor did they move in a single group, so that they might at least
form an organized retreat. Instead each turned his steps in whatever
direction appealed to him, clearly going to his death. This pursuit
and bloodshed continued steadily for almost eight days. In the army
there was an archbishop of Milan, who had brought with him the cope,
that is, the chasuble and alb (I don't know if he brought anything
else) of Saint Ambrose. It was adorned with gold and gems so
precious that nowhere on earth could anyone find its equal. The
Turks took it and carried it off, and thus the foolish clerk was
punished for having been insane enough to bring so sacred an object
to barbarian lands. Such a slaughter of Christians of both sexes
took place, so much money, clothing, gold and silver was taken, that
this one victory was enough to recompense the Turks for the losses
inflicted upon them by the first expedition. Of the 200,00--or more,
as some argue--Christians who were there, hardly 7000 remained alive.
Count Stephen, together with several other leaders, including Harpin
of Bourges, a splendid man, and Count Stephen of Beyond-the-Saone,
finally reached Jerusalem. When they arrived, the army of the
emperor of Babylon was at the city of Ramla, fighting Baldwin, who
was now the king. The above-mentioned Harpin urged the king to delay
battle until he could collect as many men as possible. The king said,
"If you are afraid, run back to Bourges." Having spoken, he rushed
unwisely into battle, lost all of his troops, was driven from the
city of Ramla, and escaped alone. Many of his men were captured, and
we still do not know what happened to many of them. Harpin was led
away captive, was finally released, returned to France, and become a
monk. Nothing certain is known about Stephen of Chartres, but he is
believed to have been killed, although we have no evidence.
Presumably he was shut up in a tower within Ramla, together with many
others, but we have not yet been able to determine from the sources
whether he was delivered into captivity or death, although we are
inclined to believe that he died, since he has never been found.
After victory, the Turks customarily decapitated the dead bodies, to
carry them as trophies of victory, and, with the heads removed, it is
difficult to recognize someone from his decapitated body. The same
doubt exists today about the fate of other great men. Meanwhile, the
king himself, who, as we said, was the only one to escape, was
mourned by his people, not only because they were threatened with
death themselves, but because his death had been announced mockingly
by the pagans. He himself, however, making his way through
terrifying mountains known to very few men, two days later, if I am
not mistaken, finally reached Jerusalem, which was expecting great
dangers with justifiable grief. When he had swiftly collected
whatever knights he could, together with the best foot-soldiers, he
prepared to fight against the temporarily triumphant pagans.
Therefore, at the moment that they thought the king was dead, he
suddenly appeared with new troops, and fought with greater authority
than before, driving them into flight, and piling up new carnage with
his sword.
Since we have not described the death of king Godfrey, Baldwin's
brother, because other material took precedence in the narrative, it
is fitting that we briefly tell how his life came to an end, and
where he is buried. They say that a certain neighboring pagan prince
sent him gifts dipped, as became clear, in deadly poisons. He
carelessly made use of them, thinking that he who had sent them was a
friend; he fell ill suddenly, and died very soon afterwards. Some
people, however, reject this opinion, and say that he died natural
death. He was, however, buried in accordance with the eternal
redemption that his faith and life testified he had deserved, next to
the very place of the Lord's Passion, thereby obtaining the monument
which he had liberated, and which he had defended from being trampled
and destroyed by the pagans. His remarkable humility and modesty,
worthy to be imitated by monks, added glory to his already exemplary
reign, for he would never wear the royal crown in the city of
Jerusalem, out of consideration for the fact that the general author
of all men's salvation, our Lord Jesus Christ, provoked human
laughter by wearing a crown of thorns. As we said earlier, he died,
and, believing him to be no less temperate and wise than his brother,
they brought Baldwin from Edessa, and set him up as king of the new
sacred Christian colony. In the brilliant nature of these men they
recognized and loved the peaceful and modest behavior, the relentless
courage, the fearlessness in the face of death, which exceeded what
might be expected of royal majesty, as well as the great self-control,
and an extreme generosity that exceeded their resources. Baldwin's
loyalty towards his people and disregard of himself can be inferred
from one event: in an expedition he was conducting against the
enemies, to save a certain foot-soldier, he put himself in great
peril, received a serious wound, and narrowly escaped death.
Meanwhile, there was something which very much frightened the many
people who surrounded them about attacking our small group, and it
frightens them no less today. The study of the stars, in which
Westerners have only the mildest interest, is known to burn more
brightly, because of its steady use and constant study, among the
Easterners, where it had its origin. The pagans admit that they had
received prophecy, and a long time before the present misfortune they
had predicted that they would be subjugated by the Christian people,
but they were unable, because of their limited skill, to determine at
what time the prophecies would be fulfilled.
Approximately twelve years before our leaders had gone on the journey
to Jerusalem, Robert of Flanders, the elder count, about whom we
spoke in the first book of this work, went to Jerusalem, with much
wealth, to pray. He remained in the city for some days, wishing to
see the holy places, and his generosity enabled him to learn
much--even about what went on among the pagans. One day, as I
learned from those who had accompanied the count, nearly all the
inhabitants of the city assembled at the temple of Solomon; they held
meeting throughout the entire day, and finally returned home in the
evening. The count was then received as a guest by an old, wise man,
who had led a virtuous life by Saracen standards, for which reason
they usually called him, "the Servant of God." When they returned to
his house, he asked him why they had sat so long in the temple, and
what was the nature of the difficult issues they had been disputing.
The man replied, "We have seen unusual signs in the comings and
goings of the stars, from which we have inferred that men of the
Christian belief would come to these regions and would conquer us by
means of steady and frequent victories in battle. Whether this
should happen in a later time or closer to our own time, is
profoundly uncertain. From this astronomical portent, however, it is
very clear that these men, whom celestial judgment has permitted to
conquer our people, and to drive us from our native shores, will, at
later time, be conquered by us, and will be driven by military force
from the lands which they usurped. This celestial sign is in accord
with a thorough and regular reading of the ancient texts of our faith,
which openly state what the celestial brightness has indicated in
veiled manner." The words of this noble man are in harmony with the
words of Kherboga's mother, which were given earlier. Nor do we at
all doubt that for the same reason that she discouraged her son from
fighting against the Christians, those who burned with desire to
destroy Jerusalem restrained themselves, lest they oppose what was
clearly a fatal decree by entering a battle. If at first they seemed
to attack us in many battles, now they fought less eagerly, since
they understood that they were not fighting against us, but against
God, who was exerting himself and fighting for us. However, if it
seems unbelievable to anyone that someone might be able to learn the
future through the art of astrology, this argument seems clear
evidence to us: the emperor Heraclius, through this kind of study,
foresaw that a circumcised race would rise up against the Roman
empire, but he was unable through this method to foresee that it
would not be the Jews, but the Saracens who would do this. Let us
also consider the Magi who, when they discerned by a swift inspection
of a star that a king would be born, and that he would be both God
and man, also knew over whom he would rule, although they could not
have known, by means of the method mentioned, had divine light not
pointed the way.
In this new battle of God against diabolical men, it will be
worthwhile considering the many apparent resemblances between what
happened and what happened to Gideon[249] Although everyone
considered the infinite number of our men sufficient for the
undertaking, they were tested by the waters, that is, pleasures and
delights. That is, those who loved following God did not yield to
the tortures of hunger and thirst, nor to the fear of various forms
of death. But those who placed God after the interest of their
bodies weakly submitted themselves to desires, symbolized by bent
knees. Those who drank by bringing their hands to their mouths are
those who, like Diogenes, heedless of all pleasures, intent on
serving God, satisfied nature in whatever way was available. Three
hundred were proven under Gideon, so that externally and internally
they carried the cross, which, by means of the letter Tau, signifies
the three hundred who were honored for their perseverance. Why did
many of our men depart like wretches from the Lord's army, if not
because they were in the grip of great, steady hunger, and because,
"Without bread and wine, Venus is cold."[250] Because their bodies
were so weak, none of them had the ability to perform sexually, and
even if they wanted to, no opportunity presented itself. Therefore
those who were found to be wise held trumpets in their hands, because
they offered divine speech, the only solace among so many hardships,
in their works. They hold vessels because, continually preparing for
battle, they restrained themselves from all the foulness of carnality.
Within the vessels they hold lamps, because, in the vessels of the
bodies the brilliant treasures of pious intention shine more brightly
than any light. That Gideon divided them into three parts may be
interpreted in the following ways: Christ draws some of them to the
crown when they pour out their own blood; others he brings to guard
the sacred city, to preserve the promised land, and through these few
men today, he resists the entire empire of the East; still others he
permitted to return to their native land as testimony to such a
victory, and to urge others to emulate their own pious exile.
Therefore when the vessels are broken the lamps shine forth, because,
when their bodies died, the spirits burning with divine love
emigrated directly to God. The frightened enemies were defeated,
because they rightly feared those men who, brave with the spirit of
eternity, embraced death more dearly than life. As the Apostle says,
[251] "For the bodies of those beasts whose blood is brought into the
sanctuary by the high priest are burned without the camp." Therefore
God suffered beyond the gate. Thus they went out of the camp to him,
that is, beyond the desires of the flesh, by carrying his shame, the
mortification of the cross, in the midst of sinful desires.
The value of taking up this great task, along with the emotion of
good will can be inferred from considering the one example that we
have offered on this topic, which we think clearly demonstrates how
much those who devoutly undertook the pilgrimage, after confession
and sincere repentance, profitted, if it did such great good for
those who were almost without penitence and confession, and if it
even struck terror into the heart of the devil.
A man of knightly rank, living on the shore of the sea, lost his
brother in the fighting. Hardly able to bear his death, he wore
himself out in inconsolable grief, since the man who had killed him
seemed so strong that the grieving man's hope of vengeance had been
entirely extinguished. Worn out by intolerable grief, his mind
dwelling at every moment and in every place upon his brother, the
pain of his irreparable loss increased each day; without hope of
solace, the poor man was tortured by the inescapable memory, until
the difficulty of obtaining vengeance increased his distress so
greatly that the devil, whose long experience had made him crafty,
shrewder by nature than any mortal, on the lookout everywhere for
occasions and motivations, smiled at the opportunity provided by his
excessive grief. Therefore, on a certain day, worn out by putrifying
internal anguish, gasping with the deepest weariness, he mounted his
horse and brought it to drink at a river, where he saw the devil
standing on the other side. He appeared in the guise of man with
crooked legs, whom he often used to see. He seemed to be a knight,
holding a sparrow-hawk in his hand, wearing his usual orange-yellow
tunic. After watching him from afar, and remembering the weakness
and the look of the man whom he thought he had known, he was struck
by the unexpected change, when the evil spirit, mindful of its
ancient effrontery, spoke first: "I am not who you think I am: know
that I am a Devil, sent to offer a remedy for the torment you undergo
every day. My master, who compassionately deigns to help all those
who suffer, if they submit to him, sent me to you. If you obey him,
just as I say, your relief will not be delayed. For since he is
generous, and possesses an infinite treasure of things to be
distributed to those with a desire for riches, he gives lavish and
incalculable gifts; to those in need he provides assistance beyond
their wildest hopes. Therefore you, who bitterly bewail an old
misfortune that remains ever new, if you have a complaint, share it,
certain in the knowledge that you will receive far more than you
might dare to ask for. In the case of your dead brother, you can
certainly hasten to take vengeance; if you want increased wealth, you
will be amazed to see your wish granted. Therefore ask for what you
want, and your ability will be equal to your wish." He had been
watching this truly unusual creature, stunned that the devil was
speaking, both attracted by the alluring offer and frightened by the
enormity of the one making the offer. However, finally carried away
by his desire for what he was being promissed, he said that he would
gratefully accept the Devil's offerings. "However," the Devil said,
"if the fruits of my offerings appeal to you, and the freely given
benevolence of my prince, who sent me to you, captivates you, when
you have truly experienced the results of what I have said, both
about avenging your brother and adding to your wealth, then my master
requires that you offer him homage, by promising to transfer your
allegiance from the Christian faith to cling indivisibly to him, and
by abstaining from those things that he forbids. There are certain
things that he wishes you to agree never to do: never enter a church,
or accept baptism from a sacred font." He also forbad a third thing,
which escaped the memory of the person who told me about this. The
man replied to him: "I can adhere to these prohibitions easily and
without delay, but I ask for a short delay on the subject of offering
homage." Since he had the free use of his rational faculty, the man
very much abhorred the execrable change of faith that was being
demanded of him, but he thought that it was more tolerable to abstain
from Christian practices than to lose the foundation of his belief.
Finally, without delay, the opportunity for taking vengeance for his
brother, following the suggestions of the Devil, was offered to him,
in such a way that the fondest wishes of the man were far surpassed
by his increasing good fortune. In this way, as the remedy grew more
effective, the bitterness of his grief gradually diminished, but
meanwhile he did not dare violate any of the Devil's prohibitions.
The ancient enemy of mankind continued to appear to him regularly,
not only, as he used to do, when he was alone, or in out of the way
places, but in the midst of a crowd of people he would suddenly make
an unexpected appearance, point out the benefits he had already
received, offer him better ones in the future, and insistently urge
him to transfer his faith to him. The man, however, extremely
grateful for the generosity he had received, promised eternal
obedience to the generosity of the prince, but in the matter of the
homage which was often demanded of him, he continually begged for
delays. Therefore, while he was being pressed insistently by these
appearances, even invisible ones in the midst of large crowds, news
of the journey to Jerusalem spread, by the will of God, throughout
the Latin world. Whoever felt that he was caught in sin was directed
thither, where God showed a new way to repent. Among them this man
chose to set out, although he had not confessed the foul pact he had
already almost entirely concluded with the Devil. Thus this man,
eager to emulate God, although not in keeping with doctrine, in that
he had not confessed his sins before beginning his good works, was
accompanied by such an abundance of the grace of God on the journey,
and his labor was so pleasing to God, even though his efforts were
not performed out of pure piety, that while traveling on this
expedition the grim overseer did not dare to harass him. Moreover,
as though he had no memory of the pact he had made, he never in any
way appeared to him in a vision. After the capture of Jerusalem,
when he was staying in the city with the others, one night, while he
was thought to be asleep, along with the other soldiers, he became
concerned about the horses that belonged to him and to his companions,
who were resting under the sky, as was the custom in that region,
and he went to look at them. Seeing the figure of man standing among
them, and suspecting that he was a thief, he got up and asked, in a
disturbed voice, who he was. In his usual manner, as though pious
and humble, he replied to him: "Don't you know me?" And he, as
though reminded of his old shame, replied with great severity: "I
know you." After this initial exchange, the one offered no further
questions, and the other added nothing to his reply. Although this
apparition seems to have been idle, we know that it is of no idle
significance to us, by God's dispensation; the Devil had not
forgetfully passed him by, but had announced, by his appearance, what
he wanted, and had indicated, by his silence, what he was unable to
ask for. What more should I say? He went home, but on his way home
the Devil never showed himself, or made any trouble. But a short
time after he arrived home, he who provides wretched men with wicked
counsel was aroused, so that the man had very few moments free from
admonishments of this kind; men may put some distance between
themselves and what they fear, and their rooms and walls may separate
them from their anxieties, but neither the presence of other people,
nor the locks on doors can protect them from their spiritual crimes,
no matter where they go. One day, the man who had undergone
excruciating, deadly suffering at the hands of the indivisible thief
happened to meet a priest of Christ, distinguished for his learning,
gentleness, and pious cheerfulness, whose name was Conon. When he
had described, in the little time available (each was concerned with
his journey), how much he had endured, the good man gave him whatever
comfort he was able to give, extracted the promise that he would
return, and sent him on his way. However the cruel beast did not
remain silent, but persistently continued to offer enticements. The
man soon grew weary of the burdensome and almost daily incursions,
and returned to the doctor, made a clean confession, eagerly
undertook penitence, and, once he had begun repentance, never again
saw his tormentor. By this example we can understand how valuable
the pilgrimage must have been for the pure in heart, since it offered
so much defense and support for the impure.
It is also significant that for good reasons kings were excluded from
participating in the grace to be earned from this journey, lest the
visible royalty seem to arrogate to itself divine operations.[252]
Therefore praise should be offered to the heavenly Lord, and utter
silence to the human being. No leader assembled so many soldiers, or
deserved so many triumphs. Regulus deserved praise for beating the
Phoenician rebels. Alexander, battling the Eastern kingdoms, worn
out with great battles, managed to acquire the name of the Great.
However, Count Stephen, who had been granted the leadership of the
holy army, like a man who had recklessly usurped those things that
properly belong to God alone, was rejected as though charged with
cowardice. And Hugh the Great, in effect, a man of royal name, was
put aside. Therefore, when the "shades of a great name"[253] were
rejected, and the power which had supported them was removed, the
little people remained, relying now on God's aid only. And when
things were decided, not according to birth, but according to God's
choice, the unexpected one wore the crown.[254] God, who makes
miracles, did not want the glory of his name given to another, for he
was the sole leader, he was the king, the chastiser, who brought
things from their beginnings to their conclusions, who extended his
kingdoms this far. Therefore he gathered into His, not their arms,
the lambs whom he had made out of wolves, raised them, children
filled with the joy of pious hope, to the protection of his bosom,
and he carried them to what they had longed to see.
As we were about to put an end to the body of the present history, we
discovered, with the aid of the author of the world, that a certain
Fulker, a priest of Chartres, who had for a long time been the
chaplain for Baldwin at Edessa, had spread word, in a manner
different from ours, about a few other things that were unknown to us,
and these were erroneous and in rough language. We decided to
include some, though certainly not all, of this material in these
pages. Since this same man produces swollen, foot-and-a-half-long
words,[255] and pours forth the blaring colors of vapid rhetorical
schemes, I prefer to snatch the bare limbs of the deeds themselves,
with whatever sack-cloth of eloquence I have, rather than cover them
with learned weavings. Unless I am in error, at the beginning of his
little work he says that some of those who set out on the journey to
Jerusalem arranged for boats and sailed across the sea that separates
Apulia and Epirus, and, whether because they committed themselves to
a sea that was unknown to them, or because the ships sank because
overloaded, it is reported that the ship carrying nearly 600 men was
dashed to pieces. After they were drowned in the roaring sea during
storm, and quickly washed up on shore by the force of the waves,
signs of the cross which they all wore on their cloaks, tunics, and
mantles were found on the skin of their shoulders. No one, that is,
of the faithful, doubted that the sacred stigma could have been
imprinted on their skin by God, to make their faith manifest, but the
man who wrote it, if he is still alive, had to think carefully about
whether it actually happened. For when the beginning of this journey
was announced everywhere among the Christian people, and it was
proclaimed throughout the Roman Empire in accordance with God's will,
men of the lowest social class, and even worthless women, laid claim
to this miracle in every way, in every part of their bodies. One man
scratched his cheeks, drew a cross with the flowing blood, and showed
it to everyone. Another showed the spot in his eye, by means of
which he had been blinded, as a sign that a heavenly announcement had
urged him to undertake the journey. Another, either by using the
juices of fresh fruits, or some other kind of dye, painted on some
little piece of his body the shape of a cross. As they used to paint
the area below the eyes with antimony, so they now painted themselves
green or red, so that, by means of this fraudulent and deceitful
exhibition, they might claim that God had showed himself in them.
The reader will remember the abbot of whom I spoke above, who cut his
forehead with iron, and who I said was made the bishop of Caesarea in
Palestine. I swear by God that I saw, when I was living in Beauvais,
in the middle of the day, clouds approach each other somewhat
obliquely, so that they scarcely seemed to form anything other then
the shape of a crane or a stork, when suddenly many voices from
everywhere in the city cried out that a cross had been sent to them
in the sky. What I am about to say is ridiculous, but has been
testified to by authors who are not ridiculous. A poor woman set out
on the journey, when a goose, filled with I do not know what
instructions, clearly exceeding the laws of her own dull nature,
followed her. Lo, rumor, flying on Pegasean wings, filled the
castles and cities with the news that even geese had been sent by God
to liberate Jerusalem. Not only did they deny that this wretched
woman was leading the goose, but they said that the goose led her.
At Cambrai they assert that, with people standing on all sides, the
woman walked through the middle of the church to the altar, and the
goose followed behind, in her footsteps, with no one urging it on.
Soon after, we have learned, the goose died in Lorraine; she
certainly would have gone more directly to Jerusalem if, the day
before she set out, she had made of herself a holiday meal for her
mistress. We have attached this incident to the true history so that
men may know that they have been warned against permitting Christian
seriousness to be trivialized by belief in vulgar fables.
Finally, the same author claims that God appeared to Pyrrus, the man
who betrayed Antioch, and commanded him in vision to betray the city.
This was easy to do for him who made himself audible to Cain and
Hagar, and made an angel visible to an ass. Certainly all those who
returned after the capture of the sacred city, and who sent to us
letters about the things that happened, particularly Anselm of
Ribemont, said no such thing. Anselm makes no mention of Pyrrus, but
reveals that it was betrayed by three men. According to the letter,
before the three leaders engaged in serious discussions about handing
over the city, they offered us a false peace, promising that they
would soon thereafter give up the city. The mutual confidence that
resulted was so great that they sometimes welcomed Franks within the
walls of the city, and their men often mingled with ours. But when
our army became less watchful and too comfortable, the Turks set
ambushes and killed some Franks, and themselves suffered losses.
There our men lost an excellent young man, who had been the constable
for the king of the Franks, and his name was Gualo.[256]
Fulcher denies the discovery of the Lord's Lance, claiming that the
man who discovered it was exposed as false, and punished by death in
the trial by fire which he undertook. Not only do recent testimonies
contradict him on this event, but the most pious ancient writers
stipulate that long ago, when they visited the Holy Places, before
the Turks invaded the kingdoms of the East and of Syria, they used to
worship and kiss this same lance in that city. Will the cleverness
of the priest Fulcher, who, while our men were suffering from
starvation at Antioch, was feasting at ease in Edessa, prevail over
the inspired work of the wise men who died at the time that it was
found? Baldwin, who ruled this Edessa after the previous Baldwin, in
his letter to Archbishop Manassa said that it was found by means of
the revelation of Saint Andrew, and that it instilled bravery and
faithful confidence in our men to battle the attacking Turks. Was
the worthy bishop of Puy so foolish as to have carried a lance of
questionable authenticity with such reverence when he went out to
fight Kherboga? A certain memorable event occurred there: when
Kherboga ordered the grass to be burned, the bishop saw that the
dense smoke was pouring into the faces and eyes of the Franks as they
rushed into battle, and he held the holy Lance in front of him, while,
with his pious right hand, he made the image of the cross in the
face of the rising smoke, tearfully imploring the aid of all-powerful
Jesus; then, swifter than speech, his piety sent the round mass of
foul smoke right back at those who had sent it. In addition, to
speak about the death of the man who found the Lance, who is said to
have died few days after undergoing the trial by fire, I shall say
how he died, although no one is certain whether he was harmed by the
flames, if they tell me why he who had received the gift of tongues
according to Gregory destroyed his limbs with his own teeth.
Furthermore, if I am not mistaken, he adds that, while they were
maintaining the siege of Antioch, a brilliant red light, like a fire,
shone in the night above the army, and it also unmistakably took the
form of a cross. Some of the wise men there related the fire to
future battles, and said that the appearance of a cross was a sign of
certain salvation and victory to come. We do not call this an error,
for many witnesses confirm this testimony. About this, I say, leaky
Parmeno should be able to keep silent.[257] Something like this
occurred at the beginning of the journey, which I happened to pass
over earlier[258] when I spoke of the movements of the eclipses and
shooting stars which were seen. One day during the summer, towards
evening, such a great fire appeared in the Northern sky that many
people rushed from their homes to find out who was the enemy
destroying their lands with such flames. All these events we firmly
believe to have been portents of the wars which were to come. And
now, having put aside the things that we thought might be treated
separately, let us return to the order of the narrative.
No one can express how courageously Jerusalem was defended by its
inhabitants during the siege. You would have seen how they had
learned to hurl stones at the ballistic machines, how to cover their
walls with timber and mats, and how to hurl what they called Greek
fire at the machines, since they knew that the greatest difficulty
for the besiegers was the lack of material. But the Franks, known
for their cleverness, quenched the raging fire by sprinkling vinegar
on it; in addition, they struck with sharp scythes anything found
hanging over the walls. The Saracens added iron hooks to their long
spears, with which they struck our men who, dressed in cuirasses,
were fighting from the tops of machines; drawing their swords, our
men made sticks out of their spears. But what best showed the
vehement commitment of the Saracens was the fact that when one of
them was struck by one of our men, the shield of the man who had been
struck was snatched up, quicker than speech, by another man, who took
up the place from which the first had fallen, so that none of our men
could have known that his blows had wounded any of them.
When the city was fortunately captured, Bohemund, who had won the
right to rule, by means of the hunger, cold, and loss of blood
suffered by the Franks, preferred to remain there, rather to go on to
trouble about liberating the tomb of Jesus Christ. And while he was
inappropriately fighting to win a house and small tower, he lost the
fruit and joy of all of his previous labor. What good would it have
done him to run, when he was unwilling to understand in which
direction to go? However, since he had until this time performed so
well for the army of the Lord, both in arms and in counsel, it is not
inappropriate to weave a few words into the text at this point, to
indicate how it came about that he went. When he sent a messenger to
Baldwin at Edessa, asking him also to come with him to look at the
tomb of the Savior, Baldwin held back from rushing off to besiege the
city, not because he was greedy, but because he had to look after his
own city. The city was filled with Christians, and often endured the
attacks of the surrounding Gentiles. After the man had promised to
go on the journey, both men gathered large numbers of knights and
foot-soldiers, since they feared not only those, but nearly everyone
in the surrounding territory, and they set off for Jerusalem. After
they had pitched their tents together, and nearly 20,000 men had
assembled, a terrible lack of food began to assail them, so that they
had nothing to put on their bread, and no bread on which to put
anything. The supplies of the provinces, drained by the constant,
various sieges, and the extended and lengthy expeditions that had
passed through them, were in no way sufficient to maintain so many
animals and men. Therefore the multitude, driven by the wretched
lack of food, again resorted to their earlier strategy of eating the
flesh of asses and horses, and they not desist from this practice
until they reached the longed-for city of Tiberias, famous for having
fed 5000 men under the Lord's guidance. There for a little while
their mad hunger was relieved by a plentiful supply of food, and then
they went on at last to Jerusalem, where they found a huge number of
stinking bodies, hacked to pieces, so that they could not breathe
without the stench penetrating their noses and mouths. They were
welcomed joyfully by king Godfrey, and they remained there because
Christmas was approaching. They celebrated Christmas at Bethlehem,
as the judgement of reason would dictate, not only because they had
come together there with a mutual purpose, but also because of the
unexpected victory granted in their own time, which aroused
unbelievable celebration among the Franks. After they left, each for
his own territory, Bohemund was attacked by a large Turkish force as
he was entering a certain city, and led away as a captive to a
distant region of Persia. When news of this event reached the
illustrious Tancred, he hurried as quickly as he could to occupy
Antioch, and to fortify Laodicia, since both were under Bohemund's
control. Robert, the count of Normandy, held Laodicea first, but
when the city's inhabitants could no longer bear the taxes levied by
this prodigal man, they drove the guards from the citadel, freed
themselves from his authority, and, out of hatred for him, abjured
the use of the coinage of Rouen. After some years in prison,
Bohemund's release was finally obtained by a treaty and a ransom.
Since much has been said earlier, my praise of Godfrey's great
knightly prowess can be brought to a conclusion by using the words of
the Baldwin whom I just mentioned, the son of count Hugo of
Rethel[259] When king Baldwin came to the throne he was put in charge
of Edessa, but, alas, a band of Turks attacked him[260] and he was
imprisoned by the pagans, and if he is alive, he is still there.
This is what he said, although clothed in my words, about Godfrey:
"It happened on the holiday of Saint-Denis. The king was returning
from a city called Morocoria, and 120 Turks lay in ambush, while he
was accompanied by only twenty knights. Fearlessly we awaited their
attack, gripping our arms, while they, because they had attacked
suddenly, thought that we would flee because we were so few. But we,
made more audacious by the aid we had continually experienced from
God, upon whom we relied spiritually, attacked the barbarians, and
wreaked such havoc upon them, that we killed eighty men and captured
ninety horses." Then he remembered, with a mocking smile, those who
had fled from Antioch, and those who, after they had carried out
their mission in Constantinople, had put off returning, and, to
inspire the Franks who had remained in France, he added the following
about his own fortune: "We have a vast fortune, and, not counting the
treasures that belong to others, ten castles that belong to me alone,
and an abbey pay me annually total of 1500 marks. And if God favors
my taking Aleppo, I shall soon have 100 castles under my command. Do
not believe those who have retreated, claiming that we grow weary
with hunger, but rather trust in my words."
When this king left his noble life for a more blessed future life,
the inhabitants of Jerusalem, mindful of his temperance and mildness,
and afraid of losing his nobility of lineage, sent ambassadors to his
brother, the duke of Edessa, to take control of the kingdom. He
lived in splendor in his realm; whenever he went out he had a gold
shield carried before him, which bore the image of an eagle, in the
Greek manner. Like the pagans, he went about in a toga, let his
beard grow, accepted bows from his worshippers, and ate on rugs laid
on the ground. If he entered one of his towns or cities, two knights
blew two trumpets before his chariot. Baldwin then yielded to the
ambassadors and set off for Jerusalem. But when the neighboring
pagans heard what he proposed to do, and saw him depart, they
embarked in their ships, with a favoring wind, although in vain,
since the duke was hurrying along the sandy banks of the sea,
accompanied by a small group of men, while they rowed furiously,
their prows plowing the waves, striving to intercept him, hurrying to
bring their ship to the shore. But the duke, with all of his mortal
strength gone,[261] in his great anguish called upon the Most High,
promising that he would always obey Him and that he would rule the
kingdom in accordance with Christian faith. And lo, the ships which
had been moving as though they had wings now stood still as though
stuck in mud, and the more each man struggled to sweep the sea with
his oars, the more the hope was ridiculed by the steady backward
movement of their boats. Thus the efforts of the unjust were
confounded, and the duke remained deservedly free, seeing in this
auspicious event a sign that heaven favored his assuming the purple.
I have omitted mentioning the fact that Daimbert, the bishop of Pisa,
had already set out for Jerusalem, together with group of his people,
accompanied by the bishop of Apulia, by Bohemund, and by this very
Duke.
After he accepted the kingdom, it is said that his first expeditions
were undertaken against the Arabs. When he reached the slopes of
Mount Sinai, he found a barbaric group of people, who resembled the
Ethiopeans. He spared their lives because of their untamed behavior
and ugliness. There, in the church which is called Saint Aaron,
where God had given his oracles to our fathers, he prayed, and the
army drank from the fountain of refutation, where, because Moses had
drawn a distinction with his lips, and did not sanctify the Lord in
the presence of the sons of Israel,[262] the Lord kept him from the
promised land. Here the opinion of my priest has faltered, for it is
is known that not Sinai, but the mountain Or, which forms the border
of the ancient city of Petra in Arabia, was the place where Aaron
lost his life, and water emerged from the depths of the rock which he
struck.
In that holy city of Jerusalem, an ancient miracle renewed itself,
and I call it ancient because the Latin world does not know when it
begun. Our conjecture is that it began when, after the city had
begun to be trampled by pagans, before our times, the Lord granted it
both to those who lived there, and to those who happened to be there
at that time. Every year, on the Sabbath of Easter, the lamp of the
Lord's tomb seemed to be kindled by divine power; it was the custom
in that city that the pagans went through everyone's house,
extinguishing every fire, leaving only ashes in the hearths; the
pagans made such a search, because they thought that the miracle was
the product of the fraud, and not of the faith of the faithful. When
Vulcan had been turned out by this means from the city, at the hour
at which our religion's law has determined that the Catholic people
are to be present at the service of the solemn resurrection and
baptism, you would have seen pagans moving throughout the basilica
with their swords drawn, threatening to kill our people. You would
also have seen those natives who worshipped our faith entrusting
their profound grief to God, both those whose prayers had drawn them
from the furthest reaches of the world, and those who had come
because of the miracle, all to pray singlemindedly for the gift of
light. Nor was there any unsuitable delay, but the passionate
request was granted swiftly. I have heard from some old men who went
there that the papyrus or wick (I don't know which of them was used)
was once removed by a pagan's trick, and the metal remained empty,
but, by means of a miracle from heaven, when light shone from the
metal, he who wanted to defraud the heavenly powers learned that
natural forces fight even against their own natures for their God.
In the year that Baldwin accepted the sceptre from his predecessor,
it is said that the miracle was obtained with such difficulty that
night was almost upon them before their prayers and tears were
answered. The priest mentioned above delivered a sermon to the
people, asking for sinners to confess; the king and the priest urged
them to make peace among themselves, and they promised to remedy
whatever was contrary to faith and to virtue. Meanwhile, because of
the urgency of the matter, so many hideous crimes were confessed that
day, that if penitence did not follow, it would have seemed correct
for the sacred light to have been removed without delay; however,
soon after the reproof, the lamp was lit. The next year, when the
time came for the celestial flame to make the tomb glorious, all men
lifted up their prayers from deep within. Greeks and Syrians,
Armenians and Latins, each in his own language, called upon God and
his saints. The king, the leaders, and the people, with penance and
grief in their hearts, marched behind the priests; all men were
racked with pain, because, since the day that the city was won by the
Christians, things had happened there that they had never heard of
happening under the pagans. Fulker of Charters, however, taking with
him the chaplain of the patriarch Daimbert, went to the Mount of
Olives, where the lamp of God used to appear when it did not come to
Jerusalem. When they returned, bringing nothing to please the ears
of the expectant Church, many sermons were delivered to the people,
which gave no solace to those who were suffering, but rather cause
for anguish. That day, when the miracle did not happen, everyone
returned home; there was a double night, with bitter sadness
tormenting their breasts. The next day they decided to make a
procession, with appropriate mourning, to the Temple of the Lord.
They went, without the joy of Easter, dressed no differently from the
day before, when suddenly, behind them, the keepers of the temple
proclaimed that the lamp of the sacred monument was lit. Why do I
delay? On that day such grace shone, augmented abundantly by the
delay, that the brilliance of God illuminated, although not
simulataneously, but sequentially, approximately fifty lamps. Not
only during the sacred mysteries, but even when the king, after
services were over, ate in the palace, messengers came frequently to
summon him to leave the table to see the lights newly lit. One
cannot describe how much grief was changed to relief when, on that
day, he agreed to what he never had consented to before, to be
crowned king in that city, in the house of the Lord, in
acknowledgement of the Lord's gift.
Then the Franks, who had redeemed the city with their blood, eager to
see their parents, sons, and wives, and perhaps confident in their
number and bravery, decided to return to their own sweet home by the
same land route they had taken when they came. Although they thought
that they would be able to pass freely through the land surrounding
Nicea, which they had seized earlier, the Turks, who had been placed
there by the emperor once the city had been turned over to him to
impede the Franks when the occasion arose, put up strenuous
resistance to them. Unless I am mistaken, my priest[263] says that
they cut to pieces 100,000 men, but I fear that the man is wrong in
offering such a number, because it is the case that he is eager to
offer such guesses elsewhere. For example, he dares to estimate that
those who set out for Jerusalem numbered 6,000,000.[264] I would be
surprised if all the land this side of the Alps, indeed if all the
kingdoms of the West, could supply so many men, since we know for a
fact that at the first battle before the walls of Nicea scarcely 100,
000 fully-equipped knights are reported to have been present. And if
he was concerned with including all those who had gone on the journey,
but who died, on land and on the sea, of sickness or hunger, in the
various regions through which they passed, they still would not
amount to such a great number of men. After the Franks, then, had
suffered hideous carnage, most of those who had survived returned to
Jerusalem, having lost what they owned. The generous king genuinely
commiserated with them, gave them many gifts, and persuaded them to
return to their homeland by sea.
But the prince of Babylon, less concerned with the loss of Jerusalem
than with the proximity of the Frankish settlement, set out to launch
a heavy offensive against the new king, often striving to attack the
port city of Acre. Count Robert of Normandy had besieged Acre when
the army of the Lord was advancing to besiege Jerusalem, but duke
Godfrey had brought him away, in expectation of a more successful
undertaking. The Babylonian then gathered a vast army and challenged
the Christian king to battle. He gathered his small band, to whom
the Lord said, "Fear not,"[265] and, setting his troops in order as
well as he could, he attacked the impious ones. Killing them swiftly,
like brute beasts, he scattered them, like a hurricane driving dust.
A second time he sent his 9000 knights forward, supported by 20,000
Ethiopean common foot-soldiers. The pious king assembled against him
scarcely 1000 knights and foot-soldiers, forming seven battalions out
of them, and he sent them with great confidence directly at the
thickest ranks of the enemy. When the prince saw far off a pagan
knight, he rushed at him with such force that he drove his spear,
together with its standard, into the man's breast, and when he pulled
the spear from the wound, the standard remained in the man's breast.
Frightened by the courage of the prince and his men, the enemy
retreated at first, but their courage returned, because of the
strength of their numbers, and they united to attack our men,
compelling them to think of fleeing. They said that this misfortune
had happened to them because, in their foolishness, they had not
brought the cross of the Lord to this battle. They said that, guided
by a Syrian or some Armenian, they found this cross, which, like the
Lance, had lain buried somewhere. They drew a lesson from this
incident, which was more blemish of a victory in the process of being
won than defeat, and when the army of the Babylonian prince, as
strong as the previous one, came forward to fight for the third time,
the splendid king, together with what forces he could gather,
deriving his confidence from God, went up against them. After he had
drawn up his troops as well as he could, the clash of men was so
great that, although the armies were unequal, both sides suffered
severe losses, as 6000 pagan soldiers, and 100 Christians, lay dead.
And because they had no prideful concern for banners with eagles and
dragons, they raised aloft the sign of the humiliating Crucifixion,
the Cross, and as praiseworthy conquerors drove their enemies to
flight.
When they had been driven off, as was right, he assembled as much of
a larger army as he could, and surrounded the extraordinary city of
Palestinian Caesarea, with no concern for the number of men, but
instead for their might. Siege engines were quickly built, many
ballistic machines were drawn up around the walls, and a beam with a
metal front, which was called a battering ram, was put in place.
Towers were prepared and moved forward at different times, whose
armed men not only rained down torrents of various kinds of missiles
on the Saracens who were standing on the battlements of the walls,
but who also struck and slew them with their swords. There you would
have seen catapults with huge rocks not only striking the external
walls, but delivering the weight of harsh blows to the city's lofty
palaces. As they smashed the building and walls, they also used
sling-shots to scatter sticks burning with liquid lead, to set the
town on fire. Meanwhile the battering-ram crashed against the walls;
as it began to open a hole in the lower part of the wall, all the
surrounding structures began to crack. Then, while the Franks
struggled to enter, and eagerness to attack drove the Saracens to
come forth, blood was shed on both sides. When one of our machines
fell, killing many of our men, both sides became more courageous, for
the Saracens, who do not like fighting in open combat, were
remarkably competent when on the defensive. On the twentieth day of
the siege, the king, supported by the best of his young knights,
attacked the inhabitants fiercely, suddenly leaping from an assault
tower, with one knight behind him, onto the wall, and driving the
enemy into flight. The Franks swiftly followed the king,
annihilating multitudes throughout the city, sparing no one, except
the young women who could become slaves. Treasure was sought
everywhere; they cut open not only chests, but the throats of the
silent Saracens. When they were struck by a fist, their jaws yielded
the besants that had been poured into them. They found pieces of
gold in the wombs of the women who had used these areas for purposes
other than the ones for which they were intended. A contingent of
Franks was promptly left to guard the captive city, and shortly
thereafter the king marched to Acre, wore it down with daily attacks,
until it submitted to his authority. He is known to have captured
many other cities, but since they were located in the middle of the
insane pagans, he could not be sure that our colonists would be safe
there. The series of battles and victories made the Saracens
increasingly contemptible to the Christians; For example, here is
something that we learned happened last year.
A certain knight,[266] whom the king had made prefect of the city of
Tiberias, behaved insolently towards the king. Angry at the man's
insolence, the king ordered him to leave the land he had been given.
He hastened to leave, taking with him as his retinue two armed
knights, and soon encountered a large troop of pagans. Putting his
trust not in the number of his own men, but in God, he tore his shirt,
which they call an undertunic, placed it as a banner on his spear,
and commanded his companions to do the same. They did so, cried out
loudly, spurred their horses forward, and charged headlong at their
enemies. Frightened by the sudden attack, and thinking that a large
army was following these men, they fled, leaving themselves mortally
vulnerable to these three men. Many were killed, and more booty was
taken than they could carry. Returning after this event, grateful to
God, he was moved to prostrate himself before the king and he
promised that he would faithfully obey him from that point on.
Once, when the king was suffering from a great lack of money, and did
not have enough to pay the monthly stipend to his knights, divine
mercy suddenly and miraculously granted aid. Things had become so
difficult that the servants and knights were thinking of leaving,
when the young men of Joppa, washing themselves, or rather enjoying a
swim in the sea, on a certain day found in the swirling sand and
water sacks filled with large amounts of gold, which the Venetians
had lost here in a shipwreck. Brought to the king, they offered
solace to everyone, an amazing miracle, both to the king, who had
been close to despair, and to the new Christian community.
But since the charge has been spread about that the king repudiated
his wife, here is what is said about it. His wife was descended from
the finest pagans in the land, and in obedience to him, she followed
her husband to Jerusalem, arriving by ship at the port of
Saint-Simeon. There she was transferred to a faster ship, in an
attempt to make the trip more quickly, but she was brought by
unfavorable winds to certain island inhabited by Barbars. The
islanders seized her, killed a bishop of her retinue, together with
some other officials, and, after holding her captive for some time,
finally released her. When she reached her husband, the king,
suspicious, and not unreasonably, of the Barbars' sexual incontinence,
banished her from his bed, changed her mode of dress, and sent her
to live with other nuns in the monastery of Anne, the blessed mother
of the virgin mother of God. He himself was glad to live the
celibate life, because, "his struggle was not against the flesh and
blood, but against the rulers of the world"[267]
Around the time of Easter last year, the knight I mentioned earlier,
whom we called the prefect of Tiberiad, and who had been victorious
in that battle, was involved in another encounter, less fortunate for
our men, in which he was captured, and brought alive by the pagans to
a city belonging to them. During I don't know which one of their
sacrilegious celebrations, they brought this knight out and urged him
to renounce and to abjure his own belief. Splendidly obdurate, he
rejected such criminal behavior, and was horrified even to hear such
a suggestion. This praiseworthy man was immediately seized, tied, as
they say, to a tree that stood in the middle of a field, and was torn
by a hail of arrows from all sides. The crown was then sawed from
his head, and the rest was made into the form of a cup, as though to
hold drinks for the king of Damascus, by whose orders these acts had
been done, to frighten our men. By dying to preserve the confession
of his faith, this knight made himself a martyr who would be known
for ages to come. His name was Gervais, of noble blood, from the
castle of Basilcas[268] in Soissons.
These are the things that, by the grace of God, we have found out
from entirely reliable men up to this day. If, in following the
opinions of other men, we have said anything false, we have not done
so with the intention of deceiving anyone. We are grateful to God,
the Redeemer of this holy City, through the efforts of our people.
For when the siege of the city began, He himself revealed, to an
anchorite living in Bethania, as the story has been reliably told to
us, that the city would be besieged furiously, but that it would be
entered on Easter day, at the hour at which Christ was brought to the
cross, to demonstrate that He again redeemed it from its afflictions
by the suffering of his own limbs. This anchorite then called
together some of our leaders, and told them these things, which were
all proven true by the manner in which the city was actually captured.
We thank God for having composed these deeds with his own spirit,
through our mouth. For the rest, if anyone thinks that we have not
laid things out as diligently as Julius Caesar and Hirtius Pansa[269]
did in the history of the Gauls, Spaniards, Pharsalians, Alexandrians,
and Numidians, he should carefully consider the fact that the same
people who waged the wars wrote them down. As a result, nothing
general or particular that happened is omitted from their accounts.
They tell how many thousands of men there were, how many from each
region, who the princes were, to whom power was delegated, who the
leaders and princes were on the other side, what the cavalry, what
the lightly armed troops did, how many shields were pierced by
javelins, and, if I may use their own words, "after the consuls and
their officers had sounded the retreat," how many men were missing
and wounded at the end of the battle. Since another profession
detains us who write this history, and our confidence is not
strengthened by what we saw, we have decided, in reporting what we
have heard, to exercise restraint. Observing the discipline of the
Julian Quirites,[270] the officers of the legions, the troops of
cavalry, the common soldiers, and the cohorts were compelled to rally
around their banners, and if the locations were favorable, and in
suitable places they set up their encampments, as though they were
towns or cities, with moats and towers. Before they set up battle
lines, they occupied the neighboring mountains, taking into account
the irregularities of the terrain, and they had large numbers of
servants, workers, and expensive baggage. Since almost nothing like
these arrangements and activities existed among our men, their deeds
were due, I shall not say to Frankish courage, but rather to their
strength and their aroused faith. Let those who wish say that I have
omitted more than I have written: I prefer being less to being more.
If anyone knows other things that were done, let him write what he
please. We thank God and such victors, who, when they had no grain,
learned to feed upon roots that they dug up. If anyone is in doubt
about the name of the Parthians, whom we have called Turks, or of the
Caucasus, let him read Solin on Wonders, Trogus-Pompeius on the
origin of the Parthians, and Jordanus the Goth on the Getae. May God
stand watch as this pious work comes to an end.--