Deus Lo Volt! Read online

  Having marched to the land of Alemanni they were scorned as country folk loosed by folly, striving after uncertainties in lieu of certainty, having left for naught the places of their birth. And the children spying some village or castle would ask if it might be Jerusalem.

  Easter Sunday they reached Cologne where again Peter stopped to preach. Some who felt impatient rode on, breeding disorder, looting, murdering. They assaulted a fortress but were hurled back. Some drowned while attempting to retreat. Others lost heart, withered by shame, and began walking toward Gaul, starved, penniless. Yet others sharply inveighed against a march on Jerusalem when all about lived those despicable enemies of Christ, Jews. Hence they searched out Jews, preceded by a she-goat and a goose. According to many, such creatures have been animated by God to identify unbelievers. Could this be the judgment of our Lord, or an egregious error of the mind? Israelites were led into captivity on account of numerous sins they committed, their term of deliverance fixed at one hundred years. Yet they had been held captive for centuries in divers places, which argues they have sinned past computation.

  By the coat of our Lord may Israel be understood. As Jacob’s coat was closer to him than any other garment, so at one time was the faith of Israel closer to God than any other. Yet the Jews tore apart His garment. Now, just as a furious man shreds his coat, throwing one shred this way, another that way, so did our Lord angrily cast aside the Jews, scattered them. While Christians labor to purify churches and establish truth, Jews look to wicked ritual, circumcision, abstinence from pork.

  Documents relate that Peter still preached at Cologne when Count Emich of Leisengen marched against Spier. A noble of low repute, a brigand, Emich burned a cross into his flesh. They say he felt inspired by the hermit. Also, he thought a display of religious fervor might put something in his pocket. However it was, at Spier he found the Jews sheltered by a Christian bishop. Nevertheless he rounded up ten or twelve, despatching them on the point of a sword since they would not gainsay their faith. Chronicles allege that a particular Jewess stabbed herself to avoid being taken by Germans. Later the bishop arrested several of Emich’s men and chopped off their hands. Did our Lord’s eye turn cloudy and dark?

  Next to the city of Worms. It is said these Jews not long previous had drowned a Christian and kept his body in a cistern, poisoning the water, so quite rightly they feared the arrival of Count Emich. Soon enough he came knocking at the gate. His soldiers abetted by townsfolk stormed the Judengasse, which is to say Jews’ Lane, butchered every Jew in sight, cutting them down like a reaper with his sickle, destroyed the synagogue, ripped apart rolls of the Torah to mock and litter the street. Meschulam bar Isaac snatched up his infant son, telling his wife he would offer the child to God. She implored him to kill her first. He would not. First he stabbed the child, then his wife. And a certain Isaac known as the son of Daniel was caught while leaving home, dragged to church, spitting, cursing, a rope around his neck. You may yet be saved, said Emich’s men. Do you accept Jesus Christ? He refused to speak, or could not because of the rope, and motioning with one finger told them to lop off his head, which they did. In that city one thousand perished.

  Count Emich moved north to Mainz. These Jews were terrified, knowing what happened at Spier and Worms. Two Israelites walking toward the synagogue heard ghosts praying, clear proof that all were doomed. They begged Archbishop Rothard to save them, slipped him two hundred silver marks and left Jewish treasure for him to protect. Therefore he shut the gates against Count Emich.

  Mysteriously the gates opened. So all at once the courtyard of Archbishop Rothard sparkled with German lances. Emich’s men hunted out those who crucified our Savior. Israelites draped fringed prayer shawls about their shoulders, huddled submissively, among them Rabbi Isaac ben Moses, renowned as a scholar, who was first to stretch out his neck, hastening to fulfill the intent of his Creator as if he did not wish to live another moment. Thus he met the blade. Willingly did these Jews accept the judgment of heaven and made no effort to escape, not while stones were flung at them, not while arrows struck. Those in the courtyard, one and all, took their final steps.

  Others less devout rushed toward the palace for safety, entrusted their lives to Archbishop Rothard. But he did not like the look of things since he had been their spokesman and took to his heels, fled to his villa near Rüdesheim.

  Emich’s men went about the business with clubs and fire and swords while Jews howled insults, shrieked that our precious Lord was a flimsy god of nothingness, bastard son of a whore. They hurled coins from palace windows to distract or appease the Germans, but when this had no effect they lost hope. There is none like God! shouted these Jews. We can do no better than sacrifice ourselves! So they began to cut the throats of their wives and children. Blood flowed into blood, blood of women mingled with the blood of men. Sisters, fathers, daughters, mothers, brothers. Narratives speak of some Jewess who had four children and beseeched a friend to kill them lest they be baptized. The blood of her youngest she caught in folds of her cloak. Next, two daughters. Her fourth child, Aaron, crept under a chest but she seized his foot, dragged him out, offered him to the god of Israel. Emich’s men found her weeping on the floor and put her to the sword. The husband, being told, stabbed himself. Mordechai the Elder slashed himself in the belly with a knife, his entrails gushed forth. Kalonymos, the principal rabbi, betook himself at full speed to Rüdesheim where he begged asylum at the archbishop’s villa. This seemed a favorable moment to save Rabbi Kalonymos from hell so Archbishop Rothard proposed conversion, but Kalonymos snatched a knife and sought to murder him, which straightway cost his own life.

  Documents relate that certain Jews were baptized through force but afterward, once Count Emich had gone, in defiance took up their wicked faith as dogs return to vomit. Isaac the Righteous, so called, led his son and daughter at midnight to the sacred Ark, slew them, sprinkled the pillars with their blood. This, said he, is reconciliation for the evil I have done. Next he set his mother’s house afire. Next to the synagogue with his torch, chanting madly. Christians held out a long pole for him to grasp, hoping to save this Jew they had converted, but he would not accept it and perished in the blaze. Nine hundred or more died at Mainz. Carts heaped high with corpses went trundling through the night, which is piteous. Yet one should inquire, as did the bishop of Cluny, if Jews be not more guilty than Saracens toward Jesus Christ.

  The bishop of Würzburg collected butchered Jews. Fingers. Thumbs. Feet. Hands. Severed heads. He anointed these bloody pieces with oil and buried them in his garden since it is the nature of a man to perform his office.

  Count Emich’s Jerusalemfarers marched along the Rhine to Cologne. Here, as elsewhere, Israelites scattered, disguised themselves. Some who were caught and refused to acknowledge the light of the world were slain, their synagogue wrecked, burnt.

  Nor did English Jews escape. Many in London ran shrieking to the devil. York. Stamford. Norwich. Throughout the realm Jewish bloodsuckers were despatched, this according to Richard of Devizes. Winchester alone, says he, ignored its worms.

  Count Emich marched toward Hungary. Why go to the end of the earth at huge expense, his soldiers asked, if those who deny our Lord live close at hand? Trier. Metz. Prague. Ratisbon. Nitra. How many Israelites tasted the blade? Coloman, sovereign of Hungary, would not grant permission for this army to continue and ordered soldiers to defend the bridge near Wiesselburg. For six weeks they skirmished, during which time Emich’s men laid siege to Wiesselburg fortress. But they lost heart, fleeing in all directions when Coloman himself appeared. Count Emich with some few knights escaped on swift horses and rode back to Germany, very far from Jerusalem. It may be this was punishment meted out by God for slaughtering the children of Israel. And yet, since Jews are proven enemies of God what happened could not be homicide but malicide. With Jews, as with Saracens, albeit they manifest good works and great penance it is of no use since those who do not believe are damned. If enemies of the Church meet no
resistance, how should Christianity survive? Therefore they must be bent with appropriate harshness, as the mad are shackled that the lucid may flourish. Christians who worship the Lord do not practice forbearance in false show.

  Regarding the hermit, from Cologne to Oedenburg he straddled his donkey accompanied by the music of creaking wagons, errant knights, rabble beyond counting. On to Belgrade whose inhabitants wisely vanished. Seven days through the forest to Nish. One week later at Sophia here came envoys from Constantinople, from Emperor Alexius Comnenus, who greeted the hermit with respect. Peter wept for joy.

  As rivers descend toward the sea, so did these pilgrims converge upon Constantinople, innocents looking to the Holy Land, crosses on their caps. It is said they were preceded by an army of locusts that ravaged vineyards but strangely ignored fields of grain. Soothsayers interpreted this to mean that Christians need not fear because they are symbolized by corn from which the bread of life is made. Saracens, however, would be annihilated because their nature is expressed by intermingling vines. Which is to say, Ishmaelites entangle themselves among the vices of Aphrodite, whom they call Chobar. They participate in orgiastic rites. Though they be circumcised their passion overflows. They copulate without shame like camels or goats. Is it not vindicable for servants of God to march against unholy pleasure?

  Toward the kalends of August here came Peter the hermit with his untidy host that would gather palm fronds on the banks of the Jordan, heralded by starving locusts. What awaited him at Constantinople? Italians. Ligurians. Lombards. These and more who did not feel strong enough by themselves to challenge the infidel.

  Emperor Alexius Comnenus warned them. Do not cross the Arm of Saint George, he explained. Do not cross the strait until your Frankish barons arrive, for the land opposite swarms with Turks. But these palmers, indifferent to his counsel, unaffected by the hospitality he showed, went about his city doing as they pleased and behaved with utmost insolence, affronting citizens. They set fire to public buildings, stole lead plates from the roofs of churches. So after a while Alexius changed his mind and ordered them to cross the strait.

  Nicomedia on the eastern shore marked the end of Greek authority. Pagans ruled the land beyond. For two months this rabble loitered about Nicomedia and the port of Civetot, daily expecting news of Frankish armies, stealing from houses, churches, orchards and fields. Alexius, to dissuade them from returning, despatched ships loaded with barley, oil, wine, corn, cheese, whatever they might need. Still they dreamt of Jerusalem. Capricious, dissatisfied, they explored valleys and slopes where they met shepherds whose language none could understand. They robbed the shepherds, drove flocks of animals to the coast for sale. Narratives relate that Peter admonished his pilgrims, but they were restless and tired of his leadership. Anna Comnena, the emperor’s favorite daughter, told how they invaded a Greek village because they thought it was Turkish, mutilated and killed the people, roasted the bodies of infants on spits. Those who followed the hermit had become arrogant. They were bloated with pride.

  Rainald de Broves led six thousand Alemanni through the countryside and took a fortress called Xerogord which they found stocked with provisions. But the instrument of God’s wrath approached, a host of Turks ordered up by Sultan Kilij Arslan who was called the Red Lion. At the head of these Turks, Elchanes. Rainald hid some of his men outside the walls near a fountain. Elchanes discovered the trap and cut them down, after which he laid siege. Xerogord perched on a hill, so the Alemanni were deprived of water. According to the Gesta Francorum, those inside Xerogord had no water for eight days. They sucked the blood of mules and horses, drank their own waste, dipped rags into latrines and squeezed filth into their mouths, smeared shit on their bodies. Priests comforted them, urged them not to yield. Be strong. Be strong in the faith of Christ, said the priests. Be not afraid of those who would persecute you. Be not afraid of them that kill the body yet cannot kill the spirit.

  After eight days Godfrey Burel, who was master of foot soldiers, vowed to fight alone against the Turks and rode forth to challenge them, spouting much brave talk. But instead of giving battle he bared his neck, miserably offering himself to these enemies of God. By certain accounts he agreed to surrender the fortress in exchange for his life. Whatever the truth, once the Turks occupied Xerogord they demanded to know which Christians would deny the Savior. Those who refused all at once sprouted arrows. Others marched into abject captivity like the animals they had stolen, marched away to Antioch, Chorosan, wherever their captors lived. These were the first pilgrims to suffer at infidel hands, the first to embrace martyrdom.

  Elchanes turned against the Christian camp near Civetot. He directed spies to go and pretend that Germans had captured the city of Nicaea which was very rich. This excited the Franks at Civetot who thought themselves entitled to share the plunder. Trumpets began to sound. Soon enough five hundred knights accompanied by twenty thousand men afoot pressed noisily into the forest toward Nicaea. Only those who lacked weapons or felt too weak to march remained at camp. It is said they advanced in six battle lines, each with an uplifted standard, boasting, shouting. Now here came the Red Lion himself, Kilij Arslan, leading his Turks through the forest. Hearing such tumult among the trees he paused to marvel. What is this? he wondered. Behold! he said. Are these not the Franks? Let us go back to the open field where we will meet them, where they have no refuge.

  So when the foolish pilgrims got out of the woods they saw a field thick with enemies and were amazed. They began to shout, to encourage themselves in the name of Jesus. But the Turks, skillful archers, unleashed flight upon flight of arrows. Fulk, a soldier famous in his own country, gave up the ghost. Walter the Penniless ascended to Paradise, ten or twenty darts piercing his chain mail. Walter de Breteuil fled through brambles and thickets. Godfrey Burel, according to some, did not bare his neck at Xerogord but turned from this battle and galloped back along the path to Civetot. God knows the truth. Now what remained of little Peter’s army rushed desperately through the forest, Turks rejoicing at their heels. And when these heartless pagans got into the Frankish camp they rode among the tents killing the old, the sick, the feeble. Some they caught naked, others asleep, women nursing infants, all butchered. They found a priest celebrating mass, cut him down where he stood at his altar. Delicate girls or young boys and nuns agreeable to the eye they led off to captivity. How often we approve the beginning of things yet do not guess their end.

  What of the hermit whose lugubrious face led thousands to this diabolic shore? He returned to France but never preached again, nor often spoke about what he knew. They say he brought back various holy relics and entered a monastery near Liège where he vanished in the depths of time.

  Later that year a priest who accompanied the Frankish barons noted heaps of skeletons bleached by desert sun along the gulf of Nicomedia, pyramids of severed heads. Princess Anna Comnena, when she came to look around, observed twenty thousand skeletons or more, by her account a mountainous testament to folly. And it is related that years afterward when Franks built new walls for Nicomedia they used the bones of little Peter’s soldiers in lieu of mortar, plugged chinks with Christian bones, made Nicomedia a tomb.

  Exploits in which he took no part were attributed to the hermit until his reputation exceeded that of Godfrey de Bouillon, descended from Charlemagne, who held the richest fiefs in Lorraine. Why does Godfrey de Bouillon walk in the shadow of a monk with bare feet? This great duke sold estates on the Meuse to equip his army. He sold the city of Metz to its inhabitants for one hundred thousand gold crowns. He pledged Bouillon to the bishop of Liège. He bequeathed the castle of Ramioul to the Holy Church. All this born of his need to serve our Lord. Some say he vowed to avenge Christ’s death with the blood of Jews during this pilgrimage. Concerning the truth of that, I have no knowledge.

  In the spring of 1096 these barons set forth, some with falcons riding on their wrists, trailed by hunting dogs. And since the needs of such a multitude would cripple the land it was decided t
hey should take different roads, converging and uniting at Constantinople. Those from the north, Lorraine and Brabant, as well as those who spoke Walloon, led by Duke Godfrey, would follow the route of Peter. Those from the south, led by Count Raymond, would cross Italy to the Dalmatian coast and proceed by way of Salonika to the court of Alexius. Yet another Frankish army would cross the Alps. And the Normans of Sicily, led by Bohemond with his nephew Tancred, would sail across the Adriatic to Macedonia.

  Auspicious signs heralded the departure. A comet was observed, its tail streaming brightly toward the west. Some priest declared that while in the forest he heard a noise as though weapons clashed, and looking up saw a Christian sword amid a whirlwind. A monk named Sigger, of good repute, watched two horsemen in the sky ride eagerly to combat and one with an uplifted cross defeated his opponent.

  When those who crossed the Alps entered Rome they went at once to pray in the basilica of Saint Peter, but were astonished by what they met. Advocates of Clement III, who was called Anti-Pope, clambering like monkeys or devils through the monastery rafters. Fulcher, an historian from Chartres who accompanied this army, relates how stones were flung at them while they lay prostrate in prayer. If this were not enough, Clement’s disciples lurked beside the altar, swords in hand, to snatch up offerings. This Anti-Pope had conspired to usurp the office of His Holiness Urban, compelling His Holiness to seek refuge in Lucca. Therefore two pontiffs claimed the title and good Christians felt bewildered, not knowing which to obey. Thus, while stones dropped on them as they prayed in the basilica these Franks felt aggrieved but did not exact vengeance, which is a prerogative of God.

  At Brindisi on the holy day of Easter this army was further tested. A vessel that had lain quietly at anchor rose up, cracked apart, and sank. Four hundred perished. Mules and horses swallowed by waves, chests of money lost. But when the corpses of the drowned had been recovered a very great miracle was observed. On the shoulder of each was imprinted a cross. Since they had fixed the cross to their garment in life it was God’s will that this emblem of faith should accompany them throughout eternity. Shouts of joyous praise went up. But certain pilgrims felt afraid. They quit the journey, declaring they would not entrust their lives to deceptive water.