Deus Lo Volt! Read online

  Now those trapped beside the reeds huddled like sheep in a pen fearing death at each moment while Turks rode jubilantly among the tents, slashing, butchering, disdaining pleas for mercy. Christians fell to earth groaning, weeping, confessing their sins.

  But all at once Hugh Vermandois charged into view. Next, Bishop Adhémar. So the beleaguered Franks thrust aside their doubts in order to challenge the enemy of God. Women followed, bringing water. All fought courageously, except one. Stephen de Blois could not be found.

  Kilij Arslan had thought the Christian army surrounded and he rejoiced. Then came Hugh Vermandois, Godfrey, Raymond, with Bishop Adhémar leading an army of southern Franks. So the Red Lion fled away to the east without stopping to gather his tents. Muslim chronicles say he asked himself what let slip such fury. Their lances sparkle like stars, said he to himself. Their shields gleam. The clash of their swords echoes more terribly than thunder. They lift their lances when they advance, silent as though they knew not how to speak. But when they draw close they loosen the reins and charge fiercely, thirsting for blood. They grind their teeth and shout. The wind itself would retreat from their cries.

  Until dusk God’s army pursued the green banners of these Turks, capturing many camels loaded with baggage, weapons, brocaded garments, silver and gold. They took innumerable oxen and sheep. Such was the victory at Dorylaeum at the end of June. Even so, four thousand Christians arose to glory in our Savior. Not least among them, Tancred’s noble brother William.

  Two days later they resumed the march. Thirst and hunger beset them. Inhabitants of the country vanished or would not sell food. They found little to eat but thorns whose branches they chewed for liquid. Salt marshes in the desert provided no water to drink. Cisterns had been destroyed by the Turk. Men staggered, dropped, gasped for air with open mouths. Women cast forth babies too soon. William of Tyre asserts that during the first days of July five hundred pilgrims gave up the ghost. Sumpter beasts which carried baggage, parched to the vitals, refused their usual obedience. Chargers with gleaming teeth that once gloried in their estate, that once took pride in tossing their heads, stumbled clumsily to their knees and would not get up. Falcons accustomed to soaring when their lord deigned to hunt now drooped and faded. Armored knights lurched on foot across the desert. Dogs, pigs, sheep, goats were saddled to carry baggage. Yet it is said that hardship brought the pilgrims together, this varied camp of Gauls, Normans, Aquitanians, Bretons, Armenians, Greeks, and others. They had come from divers lands speaking many tongues, but marched like brothers toward Jerusalem.

  They arrived at some desolate village whose people wondered why they traveled without waterskins. Here the pilgrims learned how to make them and gave thanks.

  Deeper in Saracen land they discovered a plant not unlike a reed that produced a sort of honey for which reason it was named canna mellis. They swallowed as much as they could, albeit this did not assuage their hunger. They killed donkeys to eat. They ate camels and dogs. Presently the autumn rain began to fall. Even as gold is thrice tried with fire and seven times purified, so were these servants of the Lord subjected to manifold torment. In their path stood a precipitous mountain, the route narrow and foreboding. None was anxious to go first. Pack animals were jostled or slipped and plunged screaming into the abyss. Those roped together dragged each other down. Valiant knights benumbed with cold lost hope and cast aside their shields.

  At length our Savior rescued them from adversity and brought them to Marash, a settlement of Armenians in a fruitful valley where they obtained food.

  It was here that Baldwin de Boulogne resolved to conquer Cilicia. They say he did not feel much need to visit the Holy Sepulcher but often spoke of governing a Turkish province. Therefore he commended his wife and children to the army of God, took five hundred mounted knights and two thousand sergeants afoot, and departed. Fifty leagues west he came to the city of Tarsus. But there he saw to his amazement the Norman banner of Tancred flying from every tower. Bohemond’s nephew with a small company of one hundred knights had captured the city. So, being furious, having more knights at his command, Baldwin charged Tancred to withdraw. Seeing the disadvantage and no help for it, Tancred led his knights away to besiege Adana. The monk Albert of Aix relates that during the night here came three hundred Normans expecting a welcome at Tarsus and Lord Baldwin did not unbolt the gate. He listened to every plea without hearing. Perforce these Normans camped outside the wall where Turks descended, cutting them to pieces. Many pilgrims held this against Baldwin.

  When he returned to Marash he learned that his children were dead of plague and his beloved wife Godehilde, an English lady of noble birth, lay dying. Truly does a certain order embrace all things and whatever deviates unjustifiably must fall back into order, conscious of the retribution it has earned.

  He found also that his brother Godfrey was gravely hurt while fighting a bear. Duke Godfrey had ridden into the woods for exercise and recreation when he heard someone cry for help and there was a pilgrim laden with firewood chased by the monster. Duke Godfrey rode to save him. Then the beast flung itself with teeth and claws against this enemy’s horse and clawed until it fell to the ground. Then with his left hand the duke clutched the bear and with the other hand plunged his sword hilt deep into the struggling animal, which roared and died. Yet it was a costly triumph, Godfrey stretched on the earth and blood leaking from horrible gashes. The pilgrim called for help so people came running. They put Godfrey on a litter and took him to camp where remedies were administered. Thus his life was saved, showing how the mercy of our Lord prevails.

  Baldwin stayed at Marash just two days following the death of his wife. He had in mind to visit Edessa, a fortified city governed by a prince of Armenia named Thoros. This prince was extremely old and afraid of Turks. Some say he invited Baldwin to visit because he heard that Kerbogha, the atabeg of Mosul, had levied a vast army. Chronicles relate that Thoros, who was childless and much in dread of Kerbogha, proposed to make the Frank his son and heir. Baldwin for his part thought Edessa well worth owning. The voluptuous ritual of adoption looked alien to Frankish eyes. Baldwin, having removed his blouse, was instructed to creep inside the flowing blouse worn by Thoros. Thus concealed they rubbed their bodies as if they were lovers and the prince kissed him. Baldwin next performed this duty with the old princess.

  Some conspiracy was hatched. Citizens objected that Prince Thoros failed to protect the harvest from brigands. Also, they said, they were taxed too much. By certain accounts Baldwin approved this revolt, seeing himself the legetary. However it was, Thoros came to him in great mistrust, saying he would escape with his old wife to Melitene. By the archangels and on the holiest relics Baldwin swore that his venerable head was not at risk, no matter if a crowd outside was howling for his death. Thoros abjectly offered his people the cross of Varak and the cross of Mak’enis, but they and the senators of Edessa shouted with one voice that he should not escape. He attempted to lower himself from the palace by a rope because he understood that nothing he might do would appease them. But the furious citizens shot him down with five hundred arrows and lopped off his head which they fixed on a spear to carry about the streets. That may be how it was. By other accounts the terrified old prince and his consort were each pulled apart, limb from limb, near the palace gate. Who can look through centuries of dust?

  Baldwin, finding himself now count of Edessa, married a rich and highborn lady called Arda because the union might prove advantageous. It is said her father Thatoul promised a dowry of sixty thousand bezants, then all at once rode away to the mountains, so much was he alarmed by this violent Frank. Beyond doubt Lord Baldwin was one of those who would have a fortune, no matter how. And where he finds it, that place would he call home. Many hold this up as rank ambition, believing it turns the iniquitous heart to evil. For myself, Jean, I do not pretend to know.

  Now, Antioch is the principal city of Turks and to it has been ascribed the third or perhaps the second seat of dignity, since there i
s much argument, after Rome itself. Antiochus, who succeeded Alexander of Macedon, gave it his name. Here may be found three hundred and sixty monasteries with a patriarch holding sway over one hundred and fifty-three bishops. Of such authority is Antioch that during its existence seventy-five kings have sat enthroned. At one time it was called Reblata. Here the king of Judah, Zedekiah, together with his sons came into the presence of Nebuchadnezzar who ordered the youths slain under their father’s eyes. Then the king, Zedekiah, was blinded.

  Here occurred the first gathering of true believers. Here also they adopted the name Christian. Prior to this they were called Nazarene. Eagerly and voluntarily did the city embrace this faith and disseminate the Name, a name diffusing fragrance like precious ointment. Therefore a new name was appointed. Theopolis. Hence, a city that had borne the name of a wicked man saw fit to honor Almighty God. By what means it reverted to Antioch, mistress of error, I have not heard.

  So thick are the walls of Antioch that wagons may be driven along the top and pass without touching. Four hundred turrets surmount these walls, which are the color of biscuit. Within their compass rise four mountain peaks. Antioch is magnificent to behold. It has been called a sister to Constantinople. It has been likened to a fabulous orchard blooming with myrtle and pine, enhanced by a multitude of flowers. Among its many wonders is a church dedicated to the apostle Peter who sat enthroned after receiving the keys to the kingdom of heaven from our Lord. Also, there are numerous public baths watered by ancient Roman cisterns and a theater paved with marble by King Herod. Villas and palaces of wealthy merchants embellish the hillsides.

  Antioch scornfully rejected the insidious dogma of Mahomet while Eastern lands shuddered, while millions breathed miasmic falsehood. Among errant or subjugated cities Antioch by itself sustained the true faith. But at last, enfeebled, distressed, unable to combat the wickedness of God’s remorseless enemies, Antioch surrendered. Nevertheless her citizens continued to worship the Lord, for which they were mistrusted. No Christian might have weapons. No Christian might participate in military exercise. None might hold high office. Nor could they leave their homes except at certain hours.

  Very often it happens that men know the bays for succulent fish or where to look for mollusc, or which strand is rich with pearl, yet in their blindness they do not know where to look for the good they seek. Thus, when the living host approached Antioch what did the governor do? He imprisoned the Christian patriarch, stabled horses in the cathedral of Saint Paul. If this were not enough, he drove impoverished citizens out of the city lest they become a burden. As for Christians he suffered to remain, they envied the lot of exiles. They carried beams of wood, cement, stones for catapults, labored to strengthen the walls. They got little rest, meager food. And in secret council the Turks resolved that on a particular night every Christian should feel the sword.

  Nevertheless, divine vengeance advances, step by step. Albert of Aix tells how the Frankish army marched toward Antioch with purple and gold banners unfurled, sunlight on their helmets, splendrous the painted shields. When they came out on the plain there was the gleaming river Orontes, which originates near Heliopolis and flows grandly past Shaizar. Beyond the Orontes they saw five principal gates to the city. Gate of Saint Paul by which one travels to Aleppo. Bridge Gate by which one crosses the river. Gate of Dogs. Gate of Saint George. Gate of the Duke among a nest of marshes.

  Antioch could not be taken from the opposite side because of precipitous slopes and ravines thick with laurel. Therefore the knighthood of Christ encamped on the plain. Here was a babble of voices. Flemings, Frisians, Bavarians, Allobroges, Iberians, Scots, Dacians, Greeks, Alemanni, with others of wonderful strangeness. Should a Breton or Teuton address me, writes Fulcher, I could no more respond than understand.

  Now the lords began to debate. Count Raymond urged immediate attack, arguing that by the mercy of God they captured Nicaea and should fear nothing. Others protested because they had no siege engines and to scale such a mighty wall would cost hundreds of lives. Others argued they must press forward because already they had spent one winter on the road to Jerusalem. Thus divided, querulous, they halted. Cattle and horses grazed nearby. Pigeons fluttered about the rooftops of cottages. Here was a lake roiling with fish, waterfowl swarmed in the reeds. Sheep were visible on the hills, orchards slung heavily with fruit. Thinking there could be no end to such abundance they stuffed their bellies on figs, quince, lotus fruit, white bread, wine, birds, and ate little of the animals they slaughtered, choosing only what fastidious appetites suggested. But all things obey their ancient law. So after a while, because these pilgrims succumbed to gluttony, famine succeeded exuberance and prodigality. They had nothing to put on their bread nor bread to put it on. These servants of the Lord munched thistles that pricked their lips, herbs unseasoned with salt, bean stalks, rats, dogs, camel hide, seeds picked from shit. Companies of soldiers explored the countryside, having vowed to share what they found, but on account of the gluttonous host not much remained. Anon the plump general Taticius departed, explaining that he would hasten to Constantinople and inform the emperor. Princess Anna recalled matters differently. Lord Bohemond, said she, coveting the city of Antioch for himself, would not honor his oath of allegiance, would not concede Antioch to the imperial representative, Taticius. Rather, he contrived a scheme. I am much alarmed for your safety, said Bohemond, I have heard of a plot to murder you. Do now as you think best. And upon these words Taticius hurried to the port and embarked for Cyprus. However it came about, the Greek slipped away.

  Bishop Adhémar wisely gave orders to plough and sow the fields, understanding how those inside Antioch expected the Christians to retreat. But if they saw grain being planted they must admit to themselves that nothing could dissuade these servants of Christ. Crops would be sown and harvested until Antioch was taken. It happened that during this time God’s enemies dangled a cage outside the wall. In this cage sat the patriarch for everyone to see and pity. Yet our God remains forever a wall of strength to those who trust in Him.

  Syrians are wont to speak of Antioch as a pissoir because rain so often falls. Now indeed the sky darkened and lowered. Marshes flooded. Armor rusted. Mud seeped through rugs and blankets, rotted tents. Bowstrings slackened. Next came pestilence creeping out of the marshes, bearing away the sick or discouraged. As many as one thousand died on a single day. Bodies putrefied, the air stank. At night here came archers through the Bridge Gate launching clouds of arrows. Muslim narratives tell how the citizens could hear Franks in their tents pray to God for mercy.

  Muslim spies reported to the governor, Yaghi Siyan. They said a Frankish baron lay ill with plague and twenty thousand soldiers had marched away in search of food. Yaghi Siyan ordered cavalry across the bridge, which surprised some Provençals who rushed back and forth not knowing how to escape. Only when Bishop Adhémar came to help did these Provençals regain their wits. During this skirmish the bishop’s standard with an image of Blessed Mary was captured. And the Turks, having stolen as much as they could, mutilated bodies and rode triumphantly back to Antioch. That night candles burning at the altars gave feeble reassurance. Pilgrims looked for signs, omens, and beheld visions that cheered or depressed them accordingly. A comet in the shape of a cross blazed overhead, which presaged victory. Yet a gust of wind blew apart the tents of puissant lords. The ground underfoot grew restless. Surely men are not granted the power to comprehend in thought, nor to expound in speech, the majestic course of our Lord’s divine work.

  Bishop Adhémar now wrote to his bishopric at Le Puy that the army of God had fought three battles, had marched from Nicaea to Antioch, and had stormed many fortified outposts. Although this army numbered one hundred thousand knights and sergeants it was threatened by infidels more numerous than locusts. Pray for us, Bishop Adhémar concluded. Pray for us.

  During Lent the barons considered a gate situated between them and the sea. Turks very often rushed out this gate to assault pilgrims going to the port of
Saint Symeon five leagues distant, or when they returned with supplies. It was decided to build a fort. Lords Raymond and Bohemond should go to Saint Symeon with knights and sergeants to fetch carpenters, mattocks, whatever materials might be required. So they departed. But the watchful Turks, who could not guess why these knights were going to Saint Symeon, guessed that in a little while they would come back and laid plans to intercept them. Narratives from those days tell how whistling chattering infidels surrounded the Christians. Some escaped, riding frantically out of sight, but those afoot or otherwise limited could not do much. According to the Gesta Francorum, one thousand knights and sergeants ascended to heaven gowned in white, clothed in the white robe of martyrdom. From the Gesta we learn how Bohemond rallied his followers, how they called upon Christ, how they armed themselves with the sign of the cross fixed on their foreheads and in their hearts, how they scattered the pagans, drove them across the narrow bridge. So frightened were God’s opponents that many leapt head downward to hell, yielded deformed souls to ministers of Satan. They succumbed howling to Christian steel, plummeted screeching into the river Orontes. If any wounded or drowning Turk sought to climb up columns of the bridge or struggled to gain the bank he was assaulted by servants of God who stood around waiting. Twenty Turks at least were struck with planks from the bridge until they sank and the water flowed red. Shrieks of anguish could be heard from the ramparts. But at windows in the wall appeared the faces of Christian women who lived in Antioch, who fed ravenously upon the spectacle, stealthily applauding with their hands this massacre of our Lord’s enemies.

  According to Raymond d’Agiles, the governor Yaghi Siyan ordered a host of Turks to defeat the Franks or perish, and shut the gate behind them. Now when they came against each other Ysoard de Ganges, sinking to his knees, called upon God for aid. Soldiers of Christ! he shouted. Soldiers of Christ! With no more than one hundred and fifty sergeants he attacked these Turks, who felt astounded by such audacity, horrified, and no longer wished to fight.