[A.D. 1100.] RAMULA BESIEGED.
But now, in the beginning of May, the Turks and Arabs laid siege to Ramula; recruiting the losses of their army in the former year, by making up its original numbers. The bishop of the city, prudently watching an opportunity, retired from the place and went secretly to Joppa. Baldwin had already gone out, relying on a false assertion that the enemy did not exceed five hundred; in consequence of which, he neither put his forces in order, nor called out his infantry, the trumpeters merely sounding for the cavalry to follow the king; though his friends earnestly advised him, to be on his guard against the subtlety of the Turks. The two Stephens, of Blois and of Burgundy, followed the king on horseback, that, instead of being branded as indolent and cowardly, they might return to their respective homes partakers of the credit of the triumph: far different, however, from their expectations, were the glory and the victory which the fates were preparing for them. For Baldwin, perceiving the multitude of the enemy and finding himself deceived in his opinion, filled with rage, and fierce in conscious valour, hesitated what was to be done. If he gave way, he contemplated the tarnish of his ancient glory; if he fought, the destruction of his followers. Nevertheless, innate courage prevailed, and fear had already yielded, when, swayed by the advice of his comrades, he acquiesced in a plan of retiring, through the midst of the enemy, into a castle. The rest, following with loud clamour, broke through the thickest ranks, consecrating their souls to God, and nobly avenging their deaths. The earls, too, so wearied with striking that their hands grew stiff upon their swords, yielded to fate. The king escaping to the fortress, had some few companions remaining out of the two hundred he had led forth; who entreating that he would deign to protract his life by flight, and observing that their danger was of little consequence to the world, while his life was of advantage to many, in as much as he would be an example of valour to every age, by his singular constancy of mind though in adverse circumstances, he esteemed himself worthy to live. Wherefore, accompanied by five knights, he eluded his assailants, and escaped to the mountains. One of the five was Robert the Englishman, as I said before; the others, from the great distance, report has not brought to our knowledge: he, with three more, was taken; the fifth escaped with the king. The Turks vented the whole of their fury on those who had retired to the castle, among whom was Hugh de Lusignan and Geoffrey de Vincennes: only three survivors told their mournful tale to the people of Jerusalem. The king, concealing himself during the day, and, at night, urging his jaded courser through untrodden paths, arrived at Azotus, by the singular and miraculous protection of God; as the Turks had but just departed, after having been plundering around the city for the space of two days. Coming thence by sea to Joppa, he despatched an account of the certainty of his being still living to the people of Jerusalem. The bearer of the epistle was a low Syrian fellow, who, even had he been discovered, would have deceived the enemy, from the meanness of his garb, and his using the common language of the country. Escaping the hands of the infidels by lone paths with which he was acquainted, he arrived the third day at Jerusalem. Upon this the cavalry who garrisoned the city, taking with them the bands of auxiliary infantry, and purposing to proceed to Joppa, took a route close to the sea; avoiding the inland districts. The rear, however, of the party, were cut off, by the Turks pressing on them; as they were left unprotected either by horse or foot. Thus collecting ninety horse from Jerusalem, and eighty from Tiberias, which Hugh, that most intrepid commander, had brought to their assistance, the attendants also, through necessity, were advanced to the rank of knights. The battle was delayed only till the next day, the Turks being now so ferocious as to prepare their engines, and to meditate an attack on the walls of Joppa. This was prevented by the activity of Baldwin, and by the cross of Christ preceding them, which had been wanting in the former battle. They then, with all the force of the kingdom, rushed eagerly on the enemy, and the contest was fierce: but they, after their usual custom, surrounding our troops, thought they had completely overcome the Christians, and shouted with cheerful cry: but the Lord Jesus was present; who, at length looked down from heaven, and showering courage on the Franks, put the enemy, driven from the field, to flight. It had happened in the preceding action, that, though frequently driven from their tents, they afterwards conquered through their numbers; but now, as the infantry wounded them from a distance with their arrows, and the cavalry close at hand with their lances, they placed all their hopes in swiftness, and continued their flight.
[A.D. 1113.] BALDWIN’S MARRIAGE.
He fought another battle in later years, in which our soldiers, pressed by the numbers of the Turks and compelled to fly, lost even their protecting standard. But after they had fled some distance they rallied; shame animating the timid to repel such ignominy. Then indeed the contest was strenuous; fighting foot to foot, and breast to breast. Our party recovered the cross, routing the enemy, and regaining the field. Many fell here with whom I had been acquainted; among these was Godfrey, Baldwin’s bastard-grand-nephew, who, from a boy, manifested valour in his countenance and truth in his soul. In the beginning, indeed, both retreats, as it may be said, were the source of ignominy; but, in the end, true food for glory; the one more celebrated, the other more advantageous. Finally, to repair his losses, and also to be united with him in marriage, the countess of Sicily came shortly after to Jerusalem, pouring such treasures into the royal palace, that it was matter of surprise, whence a woman could accumulate such endless heaps of precious utensils:[446] and at this time, indeed, he received her to his bed, but shortly after he put her away. It is said that she was afflicted with a cancerous complaint, which preyed upon her womb.[447] This, however, is well known, that the king had no issue; nor is it wonderful, that a man, to whom leisure was burdensome, should be averse to the embraces of a wife, as he passed all his time in war. By these exertions he effected, that his admirable and nearly godlike valour should operate as an incitement to the present race, and be matter of astonishment to posterity. He died, during an expedition into Arabia, in the month of April, and was publicly buried at Jerusalem, near his brother, as the fourth month was adding to the seventeenth year of his reign. He was a man who gained his reputation by repeated labours, and on whose fame envy hath cast no shade, except it be, that he was too sparing of his money; though there is a ready and well-founded excuse for such a fault, if it be considered, that the necessary largesses to such as remained with him, prevented him from purchasing the favour of those who departed.
He was succeeded by his kinsman, Baldwin, prince of Edessa, already celebrated for his former campaigns, whom he had, when dying, named as king. He bravely defended the kingdom for many years, and augmented it with the sovereignty of Antioch, which he obtained when Roger,[448] the son of Richard, was killed. He governed both countries with laudable conduct; with less presumptuous haughtiness, perhaps, but with great and consummate prudence, though there are some who wound his fair fame, accusing him of excessive parsimony. Wherefore, last year, when the Turks had taken him, while riding a short distance from Jerusalem, his people grieved but little for him, and for nearly a year it remained unknown, both to subjects and even to tale-bearers, whither he was taken, or whether or not he breathed the vital air. However, the people of Jerusalem, nothing discouraged on account of his absence, refused either to elect a king or to discontinue the order or command of the soldiers, till the certainty of the matter could be known. At last, the place where he lay captive being discovered, some knights of surpassing boldness, assuming the guise of merchants, and hiding weapons beneath their garments, entered the town, and rescued the king from jeopardy; protesting, that they did not act thus through respect for his niggardliness, but out of gratitude to Gozelin of Turbexhel,[449] who never hesitated to bestow all he possibly could upon the military. He has now lived long, a provident man, and subject to no other imputation.[450] The principality of Antioch pertains to the son of Boamund, of whom I proceed to speak.
[A.D. 1123.] BOAMUND.
[A.D. 1123.] BOAMUND’S MARRIAGE.
Boamund[451] was the son of Robert Guiscard by a Norman woman; he had another son named Roger, born of an Apulian, who was, by his father, surnamed “Purse,” because his paternal and attentive observation had discovered, that, from a mere child, he had pleasure in counting money. As to Boamund, who was somewhat older, he never could retain anything, but even gave away his childish presents. Roger, therefore, received Apulia, which seemed to belong to him in right of his mother: Boamund went with his father to the Durazzian war. And when the townspeople, through confidence of their walls, boasted, that the city was called Durachium,[452] because it could endure all sieges undismayed; and “I,” said Guiscard, “am called Durandus; and I will endure in besieging, until I take away the name from the city; so that, henceforth it shall no longer be called Durachium, but Mollucium.” The firmness of this answer so terrified them, that they immediately opened their gates. Thus, secure in his rear, he subdued, with the less difficulty, the other cities as far as Thessalonica. He had now arrived there, and had already, both by himself and by his son, taught Alexius that he might be overcome, when, beguiled by the treachery of his wife, he failed, by death, of a noble enterprise. Boamund, then, returning to Apulia, possessed some castles through his brother’s indulgence, and acquired many others by his own courage and prudence. Indeed the dukedom had fallen to his brother only in appearance; all the most warlike spirits following him. Nor was this of light importance: for, observant of his father’s purpose, he was averse to Guibert, and strongly espoused the cause of Urban; urging him, when hesitating, to proceed into France to the council of Clermont, whither the letters of Raymond earl of Provence, and of the bishop of Chorges, invited him. The council being ended, he readily embraced the opportunity, and transported his forces into Greece; and thence moving forward his army, he quietly awaited Raymond and Godfrey. Joining them on their arrival, he possessed great influence from his military skill and from his courage, which was never surpassed. But, as what he performed in company with others, only entitles him to a share in the general praise; and my former narrative has related how he had been taken prisoner; it may be proper to mention in what manner he rescued himself from captivity. When Danisman perceived that no advantage resulted to him, from detaining so great a man in confinement, he changed his intentions, and began sedulously to treat of terms of peace; for he was neither inclined to put him to death, lest he should excite the fierce hatred of the Christians against himself; nor would he set him at liberty,[453] without the hope of a lasting peace. Boamund, therefore, promising the infidel perpetual amity, returned to Antioch, bringing with him the silver fetters with which he had been confined; and being favourably received by his people, he took possession of Laodicea, and the other cities which Tancred, lest he should have been thought slumbering in indolence, whilst his uncle was sighing in prison, had acquired during his captivity. Not long after he came into France, offering up, in honour of St. Leonard, the chains with which he had been burdened; for this saint[454] is said to be so especially powerful in loosing fetters, that the captive may freely carry away his chains, even in the sight of his enemies, who dare not mutter a syllable. He then married one of the daughters of the king of France, and sending another to Tancred, went to Apulia, followed by the French nobility, who deserted their country in hope of greater advantages, as well as to be eye-witnesses of what could be effected by that energetic valour, which was so universally extolled by fame. Wherefore arranging his affairs in Apulia, he again burst forth against Alexius; alleging as a cause of attacking him, his cruelty to the crusaders, for which he was very noted. But being deceived by the subtlety of the emperor, who alienated his commanders from him by bribery, or took them off by poison, he had little or no success. Dejected at this, he returned to Apulia, where, in a few days, while purposing to proceed to Antioch, he died, not an old man, yet equal to any in prudence, leaving a son of tender age. He was a man firm in adversity, and circumspect in prosperity; for he had even provided himself an antidote, when apprehensive of poison. It was a knife, which, placed before him when eating, strange to tell, indicated, by the moistness of its handle, whenever poison was brought into the apartment. After him Tancred presided over Antioch; a nephew worthy of such an uncle. Tancred was removed from this world by an early death, and Roger the son of Richard succeeded. Though rivalling the fame of his predecessors in battle, yet he incurred the disgrace of being avaricious. In consequence of this, when the soldiery avoided him, he engaged the Turks with a trifling stipendiary, and a small native force, and fell nobly revenging his death: for being taken by them, stripped of his armour, and commanded to yield up his sword; he refused to deliver it to any but the commander, as he considered all present unworthy to receive the surrender of so dignified a character. The unhappy chief gave credit to his specious words, and taking off his helmet, stretched out his hand to receive Roger’s sword. When, indignant, and mustering all his remaining powers for the effort, he cut off the Turk’s head, and being immediately stabbed, escaped the disgrace of slavery by the act his courage had suggested. Baldwin the second, king of Jerusalem, revenging his death in a signal manner, faithfully reserved the dominion of the city, and his daughter, for Boamund the son of Boamund.
[A.D. 1119.] RAYMOND, EARL OF TOULOUSE.
Raymond was the son of the most noble William,[455] earl of Toulouse, who, being a man of enterprise and ability, rendered his country, which had been obscured through the indolence of his predecessors, illustrious by his own good qualities. His wife Almodis was repeatedly married to different persons, and had a numerous issue by them all; a woman of such sad, unbridled lewdness, that, when one husband became disgusting to her from long intercourse, she would depart and take up her abode with another: to sum up all, she had been first united to the earl of Arles; presently, becoming weary of him, she connected herself with William; and then after bearing him two sons, she lured the earl of Barcelona to marry her. Moreover, William, when at the point of death, gave to his son of his own name but not of his own disposition, the county of Toulouse, because, though he was of slender talents, the people of Toulouse would attempt no innovation against him, as they were accustomed to the government of his family. But Raymond, who was of brighter abilities, received Chorges, and increased it wonderfully by the addition of Arles, Narbonne, Provence, and Limoges. Again, he purchased Toulouse of his brother who went to Jerusalem many years previous to the grand crusade; but these things were achieved by a considerable lapse of time, and a life expended on the labour. Thus, ever engaged in war, he had no desire for a legitimate wife, enjoying himself in unrestrained concubinage. Finally, he condescended to honour with his adoption and inheritance, Bertrand, his son by one of his mistresses, as he, in some respects, resembled his father. To this son he married the niece[456] of Matilda the marchioness, a native of Lombardy, that by such affinity he might secure his possessions on that side. In the latter part of his life, too, he himself espoused the daughter of the king of Tarragona, covenanting for a noble dowry; namely, the perpetual peace of the adjacent provinces. Soon after this, on contemplating his grey hairs, he made a vow to go to Jerusalem, that his bodily powers, though decayed and feeble, might still, though late, enter into the service of God. The chief promoter of this was the bishop of Chorges, by whose especial exertions he had always been thwarted, and in one contest, had even lost an eye, which mark of deformity, so far from concealing, he was ever anxious to show, boasting of it as a proof of his gallantry. But now, leagued in mutual friendship, that they might employ their old age in religious services, they stimulated Urban, already inclined to preach the crusade, to pass the Alps and summon a council at Clermont, more especially as it was a city adjacent to their territories, and convenient for persons coming from every part of France. The bishop, however, died on his way to the council. To his influence succeeded the bishop of Puy, of whom we have before spoken: animated by whose advice, and protected by whose assistance, Raymond was the first layman who assumed the cross; making this addition to his vow, “that he would never return to his country, but endeavour to lessen the weight of his past offences by perpetual exertion against the Turks.” He had already given many proofs of his prowess on the way,—the first to labour and the last to rest; many also of forbearance, as he readily relinquished those places he had first occupied at Antioch to Boamund, and the tower of David to Godfrey. But at length, his patience being worn out by the unreasonable demands of certain persons, he departed from his usual practice on the subject of the surrender of Ascalon. For, on the first arrival of the Franks, the townspeople, examining the disposition of our several commanders, made choice of him for their patron; because many men, who had come thither before by sea, from Montpelier to trade, had extolled his sincerity and courage to the skies. In consequence, they delivered to him their keys, and compelled him to make oath that he would never give up the command of the city to any other of the Christians, should he himself be either unwilling or unable to retain it. A murmuring then arose among the chiefs, who required the surrender of the city to the king; saying that his kingdom was of little value, unless he could hold Ascalon, which would be a receptacle for the enemy and an obstacle to our party. The king, indeed, set forth the matter mildly, as he did everything else, with a placid countenance consistent with his manners; the others rather more violently. However, he paid little attention to their words, obviating their allegations by very substantial reasons; saying that all his associates had secured a place of retreat; part of them had returned home; part were occupying the provinces they had acquired; that he alone, having abjured his native country, could neither return thither, nor did he possess a place of refuge here; that he had yielded in other points, but they must allow him to retain Ascalon, under fealty to the Holy Sepulchre, as he had taken an oath not to give it up. On hearing this, all began to clamour, and to call him interested and faithless; indeed they could scarcely abstain from laying hands on him. The earl, indignant at this reproach, failed in the duty of a just and upright man, delivering the keys to the enemies of God, and compensating the fear of perjury by the blood of many a man in after time; for to this day that city has never been taken either by force or by stratagem.