The Siege of Antioch
_The faithful armies sang
"Hosanna to the Highest." ... Now storming fury rose
And clamour, arm on armour clashing brayed
Horrible discord._
MILTON: _Paradise Lost._
The city of Antioch, capital of Syria, towards which the faces of the
Crusaders were now set, was one of the most famous and beautiful cities
of the East. Behind it lay the rugged ranges of Lebanon; part of its
wide girdle of walls and turrets was washed by the river Orontes,
towards which sloped gardens fragrant with roses; and it was
intersected by a spacious street adorned with double' colonnades. But
it was yet more famous for its associations with St Peter, its first
bishop, and for having been the birthplace of St Chrysostom, "the
golden-mouthed" teacher of Eastern Christendom.
A few days after the march from Nicæa to Antioch had commenced, the
great army divided itself into two parts, one led by Raymond, Baldwin,
and Godfrey; the other by Bohemond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy.
This division suited the plans of the Sultan David, who, since the fall
of Nicæa, had been watching operations from the surrounding heights.
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No sooner was Bohemond's army seen to halt for rest and refreshment
beside a river, than, with a terrific uproar, thousands of Turks hurled
themselves upon them from the heights above. Hasty messages were sent
to summon the other army, and meantime the Crusaders fought with
desperate valour.
"Even the women were a stay to us, for they carried water for our
warriors to drink, and ever did they strengthen the fighters."
The numbers of the foe were overwhelming, however, and only the courage
and energy of the leaders prevented a panic-stricken flight. The tact
of Robert of Normandy, who, at a critical moment, snatched off his
helmet and cheered on his men in the thick of the fight, is said to
have turned the scale of victory. Even then success seemed hopeless,
but just as evening drew rapidly on, the second army came upon the
scene. Seeing this, the Sultan fled, and many of his followers with
him, but he left behind so rich a spoil of gold, jewels, silks, and
other luxuries, that it was with difficulty the victors were induced to
leave the booty and resume their march without too much encumbrance.
Such was the first pitched battle between the Crescent and the Cross,
of which one of the combatants writes: "Had not the Lord been with us,
and sent us speedily another army, not one of our men would have
escaped."
And now the Crusaders were free to pass on to Antioch, though the march
thither probably cost them more lives than did that battle of Dorylæum.
[Illustration: _Robert of Normandy at Dorylæum_]
The heat of the desert wastes during the month of July left many
prostrate by the wayside, never to rise again. Terrible thirst
tormented them, and the sight of {85} a welcome stream was the signal
for such excesses of drinking that both men and horses died by hundreds.
It was almost impossible to obtain food, for the son of Sultan David
had marched before the Crusading host, destroying all supplies and
leaving the towns upon the track empty and famine-stricken.
At length the fertile district of Cilicia was reached, and relief was
obtained from these woes. But here arose those unfortunate dissensions
which were a lamentable feature both in this and later Crusades.
Meantime Tancred and Baldwin with a part of the army had pushed on to
Tarsus. This city, the birthplace of St Paul, though held by a small
band of Turks, was largely inhabited by Christians, who eagerly claimed
Tancred as their protector and lord. Just as the Turks were about to
surrender to him, the forces of Baldwin, who had been exploring
elsewhere, appeared on the distant heights, and being mistaken by the
Turks for their allies, encouraged them to delay giving up the city.
The arrival of the new-comer before the walls gave rise to a quarrel
with Tancred, the heat of which was only intensified by the discovery
that the unscrupulous Baldwin was busy intriguing with the inhabitants
with the object of winning their allegiance.
In disgust, Tancred, the weaker but more upright of the two, left him
to take possession of the city and marched to Messis. But thither,
too, the grasping Baldwin followed, and the sight of his tents pitched
beneath the walls was the signal for a conflict between the two hosts
of Crusaders which reflects little credit on either side.
Finally, since reconciliation was impossible, Baldwin gladly accepted
an invitation from the famous Armenian {86} city of Edessa to take up
its cause against the Turks. The prince adopted him as his son, and
was ill rewarded by a rebellion of his people in favour of the
new-comer, which soon cost their ruler his life. Thus, while the main
army was pressing on to Antioch, Baldwin, married to an Armenian
princess, was busy in establishing in Edessa the first Latin kingdom of
the East.
On October 21st, 1097, the host of the Crusaders at length encamped
around the walls of Antioch and made their preparations in anticipation
of an early victory. The gates, however, were blocked by huge masses
of rock from neighbouring quarries, and it seemed an easier task to
break the walls than to force the gates.
But both proved to be impossible, even with the aid of a new instrument
of war, a huge tower, the outcome of great toil and expense, which,
full of troops, was wheeled against one of the gateways. This proved a
failure before the showers of Turkish arrows, and was burnt to ashes as
it stood.
Three months of fruitless effort passed, and the host of the Crusaders
began to suffer from lack of food. They dared not venture far to look
for it, for the Turks were always on the watch, and no man could with
safety leave his post.
Finding, moreover, that the Crusaders generally got the worst of it
when the Turks made a sally from the city, the native Christians of the
country transferred the provisions they had been wont to bring to the
former, to those from whom they now believed they would reap the
greater advantage in the near future.
Then hope began to fail the besiegers, whose camp, owing to the heavy
rain, had now become a fever-haunted swamp. One or two of the
meaner-spirited leaders {87} tried to get quietly away with their
troops; even Peter the Hermit lost heart, and would have deserted the
host had he not been forcibly turned back by Tancred.
Meantime the Seljukian Turks had been expelled by the Saracens from
Jerusalem and Tyre, and the Caliph of the latter now sent envoys to the
leaders of the Crusade, of whose evil condition he had been informed,
to express his surprise that the Christians, while rightly warring
against the fierce Seljuks, should desire to attack Jerusalem also. He
promised, moreover, to extend his protection for a whole month to any
peaceable pilgrims who should wish to visit the Holy City, on condition
that the Crusaders would acknowledge his supremacy in Syria; and he
warned them that if they refused his terms his whole power would
forthwith be directed against them.
The Caliph's envoys expected to find the camp in sorry plight; but, to
their surprise, they were entertained in lordly fashion, and found
every sign of prosperity and plenty. They were sent back with an
absolute refusal to relinquish the right of Christendom over the whole
of Palestine, and quite in ignorance of the terrible straits in which
the army really stood, in spite of its outward appearance of
prosperity. It was true that when the enemy attacked them in the open,
the Crusaders were more than able to hold their own; it was the
hopeless inaction, the dread of disaffection in the camp, and the pangs
of actual famine that were sapping the courage of the besiegers; and
now the news that an immense army, led by the Sultan of Persia, was
coming to the relief of the city was the last and most crushing blow.
At this crisis, Bohemond, whose movements had for some time been full
of mystery, assembled the leaders {88} and asked for a solemn oath from
them that the man who succeeded in taking the city should be its future
ruler. Very unwillingly they gave their consent, upon which Bohemond
revealed the fact that he had for some time past been in communication
with an officer of the city guard, who was in the full confidence of
the governor, and could obtain possession of Antioch whenever he wished.
So, on the 2nd of June 1098, nearly six months after the beginning of
the siege, a little band of Crusaders quietly approached the gate of St
George and gave their signal. A rope ladder was silently lowered from
the top of the wall, up which Bohemond promptly sprang. But at the
summit he found himself alone; for in their distrust of him, the rest
had waited to see what would happen. The sight of his safe arrival
gave them confidence, and about sixty swarmed up the ladder, which then
broke. Those at the top, however, undeterred by their isolated
position on the walls of a hostile city, found their way in the
darkness to a gate, and broke it open. In rushed the invading army
with their battle-cry of "Deus vult! Deus vult!" and the city, taken
quite unawares, was soon in their hands.
The sun rose on the third day of June upon a city red with blood, the
governor of which had paid with his head for his courage in holding out
so long. Dawn also revealed the blood-red banner of Bohemond floating
from the highest tower. Only the citadel, by a strange oversight on
the conqueror's part, was still in the hands of a small body of Turks.
The news of the fall of Antioch gave rise to general alarm throughout
the East. The followers of Sultan David, their former foe, joined with
those of the Sultan of Persia against the Crusaders, and led by the
famous {89} general Kerboga, flung themselves against the walls of the
city. Flushed with success, the victors had overlooked the fact that
there was scarcely any food within the gates, and also they had allowed
their means of access to the Mediterranean ports to be cut off. Within
a few days the besiegers were the besieged and in far worse plight than
before. Many, even of the nobles, were seized with panic, and letting
themselves down by ropes from the walls, fled to the sea-coast. Even
Stephen of Chârtres, son-in-law of William the Conqueror, who, through
illness, had retired before the city fell, and who was now entreated to
return with his troops to its aid, lost his nerve when he looked down
from the hills upon the sea of tents that lay before the walls. Not
only did he rapidly retreat, but meeting the Emperor Alexios marching
with an army to aid the Crusaders, he actually prevailed upon the
latter, not at all against his will, to retire from the hopeless
conflict.
With foes outside the walls, and foes holding the citadel within, the
unfortunate host of Crusaders was indeed in evil case.
"We who remained," writes one, "could not hold out against the arms of
those within the castle, so we built a wall between ourselves and them,
and watched it day and night."
Despair led to loss of nerve and discipline; many of the soldiers
refused to bear arms or even leave their abodes, and had to be "burnt
out" by the orders of Bohemond. The destruction of a great part of the
city to which this inadvertently led, did not improve matters.
The situation was relieved at this apparently hopeless juncture in a
most remarkable manner. Into the midst of the council at which the
chiefs were hurriedly {90} considering what could best be done to
prevent further demoralisation, appeared a certain priest, Peter
Barthelemy, chaplain to Raymond of Toulouse, who declared unto them a
marvellous dream or vision. He had, he said, been carried in his sleep
by St Andrew to the Church of St Peter within the city, and had been
shown there the head of the lance which had pierced the sacred side of
the Saviour. This, the saint had told him, if borne at the head of the
army, was certain to bring them success.
Great was the power of religious faith in those days. Whether the
story was true, or merely a device to drive out panic and awaken
enthusiasm, matters not; the effect remains the same. Marching in
solemn procession to the Church of St Peter, they made excavations at
the spot indicated, at first with no success. Then as the dusk began
to fall, Peter the priest himself descended barefooted and dressed only
in a tunic, and after digging for some time, declared with a joyful
shout that the sacred relic was discovered.
"At last," says the historian, "seeing that we were fatigued, the young
man who had told us of the lance leapt into the pit, all ungirt as he
was, without shoes, and in his shirt. He adjured us to call upon God
to render us the lance for our comfort and our victory. At last the
Lord, moved by such devotion, showed us the lance. And I, who have
written these things, as soon as ever the blade appeared above ground,
greeted it with a kiss, nor can I tell how great joy and exultation
then filled the city."
Such was the effect of this discovery, that, in their certainty of
victory, the Crusading chiefs forthwith sent a message to Kerboga,
offering him a chance of {91} withdrawal before he was utterly
demolished. Peter the Hermit was the chosen ambassador, who, in spite
of the courteous hospitality with which he was received, so disgusted
the leaders of the host of Islam by his haughtiness and insolence, that
no such peaceful arrangement could be entertained. "So much the
better," said the rank and file, who were now as keen to fight as they
had before been to escape. And so, very early on a perfect June
morning, the army marched out through the rose-scented air in twelve
battalions, according to the number of the twelve apostles, led by
Bishop Adhemar with the Holy Lance held on high.
Some say that Kerboga was taken by surprise, others that he welcomed
the opportunity, long hoped for, of drawing them into the open plain,
and that he had planned to surround them from the rear, and cut them
off from the city. However that may have been, a desperate struggle
now began, which, from the overwhelming numbers of the foe, must in the
ordinary course have gone against the Crusaders, weakened as they were
by want of food. But it was the old story of the victory of mind over
matter.
When Adhemar, deserted by Godfrey and Tancred, who had been summoned to
the aid of Bohemond, hard pressed by David the Sultan, found himself
surrounded by the dark face of the infidel, the sight of the Holy Lance
moved his handful of followers to fight with such desperate valour,
that for a moment the foe fell back. Raising his eyes to the
encircling mountains, the Bishop saw, or thought he saw, three radiant
figures riding upon milk-white horses to their aid.
"Behold, soldiers, the succour that God has provided for you!" he
cried, and at once a shout went up from {92} all parts that St George,
St Theodore, and St Maurice had come to their help.
"Deus vult! Deus vult!" they cried, and Islam shrank before the
extraordinary enthusiasm of their attack.
The story of the battle is a monument to religious faith, and
illustrates in a wonderful way what miraculous deeds of valour can be
wrought under its influence.
Ere long the Turks fled in confusion to the mountains, leaving the
ground strewn with the bodies of the slain.
"But us the Lord multiplied," says he who tells the tale, "so that in
battle we were more than they, and returning to the city with great
joy, we praised and magnified God, who gave the victory to His people."
It is a pity that the sequel of the story fails to preserve this high
level of enthusiasm and devotion. Had it been possible to march
directly to Jerusalem, such might have been the case; but the burning
heat of summer forbade such a course. Left idle in Antioch, the
soldiers grew mutinous, and their leaders quarrelsome. Bohemond
excited jealousy by his conquests of neighbouring cities. Hugh of
Vermandois deserted with his troops and returned home. A pestilence,
caused by the thousands of unburied bodies of the slain, fastened upon
the Crusaders, and claimed amongst its victims the good Bishop Adhemar,
the first to take up the Cross in the Holy War.
Not till January 1099 did the army march out towards the South, leaving
Bohemond behind as Governor of Antioch.
It was upon this journey that Peter Barthelemy once more became
prominent by reason of many new visions and dreams. But his master,
Count Raymond, was unpopular at that time, and the occasion was seized
by his {93} opponents to accuse him indirectly of fraud in the matter
of the Holy Lance. Whether this was true it is impossible to say; but
it must be remembered that Peter himself never ceased to affirm his
sincerity, and confidently offered to go through the terrible Ordeal by
Fire in proof of the latter.
"Make me the biggest fire you can, and I will pass through the midst
with the Lord's Lance in my hand. If it be the Lord's Lance may I pass
through unharmed; if not, may I be burnt up."
A vast crowd of Crusaders gathered to witness the ordeal early on the
morning of Good Friday. Peter, clad only in his tunic, passed
fearlessly through the midst of two blazing piles of dead olive
branches, a foot apart from one another. "God aid him!" cried a
thousand throats, and when he emerged, apparently unhurt, a thousand
hands were stretched out to feel his limbs and flesh. For the moment
faith again seemed to have triumphed, and the followers of Raymond
rejoiced. But presently it was seen that the unhappy priest was in
terrible suffering, some say from burns, others from the too eager
handling he had received from the crowd. He died a few days later,
confident in his honesty to the last, and leaving those who had scoffed
and those who had believed exactly in the same frame of mind.
Yet this much attacked and possibly deluded priest had done an
important work; for, as far as we can see, the Holy War would have come
to an abrupt end during the latter part of that remarkable siege of
Antioch, had it not been for the almost miraculous spirit of zeal and
devotion aroused by his alleged discovery.
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