Godfrey’s band took the road through Hungary, already marked by the bones of the crusaders under Peter and Walter. The ghastly warnings everywhere about him encouraged him to treat with justice and kindness his coreligionists through whose lands he was journeying. He enforced strict military discipline against pillage, and appeased the wrath of the Hungarians by leaving his brother Baldwin in their hands as hostage for his good faith. But beneath the gentleness of Godfrey smouldered fiery indignation against all forms of injustice. When, therefore, he heard of the capture of Count Hugh he demanded of the emperor instant reparation, failing to receive which, he took summary revenge by laying waste the country about Adrianople. The emperor reluctantly pledged the release of Count Hugh. When the crusaders camped before Constantinople, Alexius refused to sell them provisions except on condition of their rendering homage to his throne. Several leaders had in their extremity yielded this point, but Godfrey replied by letting loose his soldiers to gather as they might; this brought Alexius to better terms.
Bohemond and Tancred crossed the sea to Durazzo and thence took the route eastward through Macedonia and Thrace. Hearing of the duplicity of Alexius, Bohemond urged Godfrey to seize upon Constantinople. Though Godfrey declined to divert his sword from the Infidels, the rumor of Bohemond’s proposal led the haughty Greek to seek closer alliance with his unwelcome guests. With stately parade, he adopted Godfrey as a son, and, in return for the formal bending of the knee at his throne, intrusted to him the defence of the empire. When Bohemond reached the Eastern court he was received with flattering protestations of friendship, which he repaid with equal adulation and as unblushing deceit. These two men at least understood each other, perhaps by that subtle instinct which leads serpents of a kind to come together.
Count Raymond had greater difficulties in leading his forces from northern Italy around the head of the Adriatic and over the mountains of Dalmatia, whose semi-savage inhabitants menaced his march. From Durazzo, he says, “right and left did the emperor’s Turks and Comans, his Pincenati and Bulgarians, lie in wait for us; and this though in his letters he spoke to us of peace and brotherhood.” The stern warrior inflicted cruel retaliation upon his assailants by cutting off the noses and ears of those he captured. On arriving at Constantinople, the irate veteran proposed to his brother chieftains to immediately sack the city. But, in spite of his severity, the blunt honesty of Raymond eventually won from Alexius more praise than did the apparent compliance of his brethren; for, says Anna Comnena, “My father knew that he [Raymond] preferred honor and truth above all things.”
The expedition of Robert of Normandy gave no credit to the crusading zeal. That chief, surnamed “Short-hose” and “the Fat,” chose the route through Italy, and justified his repute for indolence by spending the entire winter in that genial climate. Robert of Flanders and a few resolute kindred spirits shamed the lethargy of their brethren, and crossed the Adriatic in spite of wintry storms. Many others, disgusted with the general conduct of affairs, returned to their homes. It was not until after Easter in 1097 that Duke Robert and Count Stephen embarked at Brindisi.
All these armies were encumbered by the presence of women and children, since the crusading scheme proposed not only war against the Mussulman, but settlement in the lands that should be conquered. In some cases the entire population of villages and sections of cities tramped eastward, so that the movement took the character of a migration rather than that of a campaign.
The dealings of the Greek emperor with the crusaders were characteristic of the man. Alexius Comnenus had secured the throne in 1081 by successful rebellion and the capture through treachery of the capital, which he gave over to license and rapine. His subsequent policy as a ruler was in keeping with its beginning. The intrigues by which he acquired power were matched by the despotic cruelty with which he held it. His career has been depicted for us by the partial pen of his daughter Anna. Through her fulsome coloring we can detect the contemptible disposition of Alexius, and in her unblushing admissions, while purposing only to praise, we can also see much of the prevailing degeneracy of the Greek mind and conscience. Sir Walter Scott would temper our contempt for the man by the consideration that “if Alexius commonly employed cunning and dissimulation instead of wisdom, and perfidy instead of courage, his expedients were the disgrace of the age rather than his own.” But his wife, the Empress Irene, without doubt correctly summarized his personal character when, watching by his death-bed, she exclaimed, “You die as you have lived, a hypocrite.”
No doubt Alexius had reason to fear the proximity of the crusaders. In the strong figure of Gibbon, he was like the Hindu shepherd who prayed for water. Heaven turned the Ganges into his grounds and swept away his flocks and cottage in the inundation. Alexius was aware of the ambition of Bohemond to harm the Greek empire, and suspected all his comrades of similar designs. The rude manners of the invaders were also such as not to ingratiate them with the sycophancy of the court. Once, while the Franks were paying homage to the emperor, one of them unceremoniously placed himself beside his Majesty, remarking, “It is shocking that this jackanapes should be seated, while so many noble captains are standing yonder.”
Alexius was doubtless right in exacting from his visitors an oath of loyalty while within his dominions, and a pledge to turn over to him any Greek cities and fortresses they might recapture from the Turks. This was agreed to by all except Count Raymond, who declared that he would have no oath but to Christ, and invited the emperor to share with the crusaders the marches and battles against the Turks if he would divide the spoil. The ambition and cupidity of Bohemond were stayed with bribes. Thus Alexius one day introduced the Norman leader into a roomful of treasures. “Ah, here is wherewith to conquer kingdoms!” exclaimed Bohemond. The next day the treasures were transferred to his tent. The amazing request of Bohemond to be appointed Grand Domestic, or general of the Greek empire, was declined by Alexius, who had himself held that office and found it a convenient step to the throne. He, however, promised Bohemond the rule of the principality of Antioch in the event of his conquering it with his sword. Tancred, with a delicate sense of honor that shamed the truculency of his kinsman, fled the imperial lures by avoiding the city and keeping himself in disguise on the Asiatic side of the Bosporus. His example was not lost upon his fellow-chieftains, who felt the enervating influence of the daily vision of palaces, villas, gorgeous equipages, and, as the historian has fondly noted, the beauty of the women of the capital.
Alexius encouraged the virtuous purpose of the Latins to resume the crusade, from considerations of their menace to his own domain while encamped within it. With apparent magnanimity, he facilitated their crossing the Bosporus, and applauded the heroism of their start through the plains of Bithynia. In every way he fanned their enthusiasm against the Turk; but at the same time he informed the enemy of the movement of his allies, that their victories might not diminish his own prestige, and that, in the event of their discomfiture, he might profit by the friendship of the Infidel.