Jerusalem, the City of Herod and Saladin

by Walter Besant; Edward Henry Palmer

At this time the joy of the soldiers was increased by the announcement made by a Christian inhabitant of Jerusalem that he had buried in the city, before the Crusaders came, a cross which contained a piece of the True Cross. This relic was dug up after a solemn procession, and borne in state to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where it was intrusted to the care of Arnold, who had been appointed to act in the place of the patriarch. The appetite for relics had grown en mangeant. Besides the holy lance, and this piece of the True Cross, every knight, almost every common soldier, had been enabled to enrich himself with something precious—a bone or a piece of cloth, which had once belonged to a saint, a nail which had helped to crucify him, or the axe which had beheaded him. And there can be no doubt that the possession of these relics most materially helped to inspire them with courage.

While the princes were still deliberating over the choice of a king, came the news that the Egyptian Caliph had assembled together a vast army, which was even then marching across the desert under the command of a renegade Armenian named Afdhal. He it was who had taken Jerusalem from the Turks only eleven months before the siege by the Crusaders. The army contained not only the flower of the Egyptian troops, but also many thousands of Mohammedan warriors from Damascus and Bagdad, eager to wipe out the disgrace of their defeats.

Tancred, Count Eustace of Boulogne, and Robert of Flanders, sent forward to reconnoitre, despatched a messenger to Jerusalem with the news that this innumerable army was on its way, and would be, within a few days, at the very gates of the city. The intelligence was proclaimed by heralds through the city, and at daybreak the princes went bare-footed to the Church of the Sepulchre, where they received the Eucharist before setting out on their way to Ascalon. Peter the Hermit remained in charge of the women and children, whom he led round in solemn procession to the sacred sites, there to pray for the triumph of the Christian arms. Even at this solemn moment, when the fate of the newly-born kingdom trembled on the decision of a single battle, the chiefs could not abstain from dissensions. At the last moment, Robert of Normandy and Count Raymond declared that they would not go with the army; the former because his vow was accomplished, the latter because he was still sullen over the decision of the electors. But by the entreaties of their soldiers they were persuaded to yield. The Christian army collected in its full force at Ramleh, attended by Arnold with the True Cross, whence they came to the Wady Sorek.

The battle took place on the plain of Philistia, that lovely and fertile plain which was to be reddened with blood in a hundred fights between the Christians and their foes.

The Christian army had been followed into the plain by thousands of the cattle which were grazing harmlessly over the country. The dust raised by the march of the men and beasts hung in clouds over these flocks and made the Egyptian army take them for countless squadrons of cavalry. Hasty arrangements were made. Godfrey took two thousand horse and three thousand foot to prevent a sortie of the inhabitants of Ascalon; Raymond placed himself near the seashore, between the fleet and the enemy; Tancred and the two Roberts directed the attack on the centre and right wings. In the first rank of the enemy were lines of African bowmen, black Ethiopians, terrible of visage, uttering unearthly cries, and wielding, besides their bows, strange and unnatural weapons, such as flails loaded with iron balls, with which they beat upon the armour of the knights and strove to kill the horses. The Christians charged into the thickest of these black warriors, taking them probably for real devils, whom it was a duty as well as a pleasure to destroy. A panic seized the Mohammedans; Robert Courthose, always foremost in the mêlée, found himself in the presence of Afdhal himself, and seized the grand standard. And then the Egyptians all fled. Those who got to the seashore fell into the hands of Raymond, who killed all, except some who tried to swim, and were drowned in their endeavours to reach their fleet; some rushed in the direction of Ascalon and climbed up into the trees, where the Christians picked them off with arrows at their leisure; and some, laying down their arms in despair, sat still and offered no resistance, while the Christians came up and cut their throats. Afdhal, who lost his sword in the rout, fled into Ascalon, and two thousand of his men, crowding after him, were trampled under foot at the gates. From the towers of Ascalon he beheld the total rout and massacre of his splendid army and the sack of his camp. “Oh, Mohammed,” cried the despairing renegade, “can it be true that the power of the Crucified One is greater than thine?” Afdhal embarked on board the Egyptian fleet and returned alone. No one has told what was the loss sustained by the Mohammedans in this battle. They were mown down, it is said, like the wheat in the field; and those who escaped the sword perished in the desert.

It is well observed by Michault, that this is the first battle won by the Christians in which the saints took no part. Henceforth Saint George appears no more. The enthusiasm of the soldiers was kindled by religious zeal, but it is kept alive henceforth by success. When success began to fail, religion could do nothing more for them.

Raymond and Godfrey quarrelled immediately after the battle about the right of conquest over Ascalon, which Raymond wished to take for himself, and Godfrey claimed as his own. Raymond, in high dudgeon, withdrew, and took off all his troops, like Achilles. Godfrey was obliged to raise the siege of Ascalon, and followed him. On the way Raymond attacked the town of Arsûf, but meeting with a more determined resistance than he anticipated, he continued his march, maliciously informing the garrison that they had no reason to be afraid of King Godfrey. Consequently, when Godfrey arrived, they were not afraid of him, and gave him so warm a reception that he was obliged to give up the siege, and learning the trick that Raymond had played him, flew into so mighty a passion, that he resolved to terminate the quarrel according to European fashion. Tancred and the two Roberts used all their efforts to appease the two princes, and a reconciliation was effected between them. What is more important is, that the reconciliation was loyal and sincere. Raymond gave up all his schemes of ambition in Jerusalem; ceded all pretensions to the tower of David, over which he had claimed rights of conquest, and so long as he lived was a loyal supporter of the kingdom which he had so nearly obtained for himself. But Ascalon remained untaken, a thorn in the sides of the conquerors for many years to follow, and a standing reminder of the necessity of concord.

The army returned to Jerusalem singing hymns of triumph, and entered the city with sound of clarion and display of their victorious banners. The grand standard and the sword of Afdhal were deposited in the Church of the Sepulchre; and a great service of thanksgiving was held for their deliverance from the Egyptians.

And then the princes began to think of going home again. They had now been four years away. Their vow was fulfilled. Jerusalem was freed from the yoke of the Mussulman, and they could no longer be restrained. Three hundred knights and two thousand foot-soldiers alone resolved to stay with Godfrey and share his fortunes. Among them was Tancred, almost as great a Christian hero as Godfrey himself. “Forget not,” those who remained cried with tears—these knights were not ashamed to show their emotion—to those who went away, “forget not your brethren whom you leave in exile; when you get back to Europe, fill all Christians with the desire of visiting those sacred places which we have delivered; exhort the warriors to come and fight the infidels by our side.”

So went back the Crusaders, bearing each a palm-branch from Jericho, in proof of the accomplishment of their pilgrimage. It was but a small and miserable remnant which returned of those mighty hosts which, four years before, had left the West. There was not a noble family of France but had lost its sons in the great war; there was not a woman who had not some one near and dear to her lying dead upon the plains of Syria; not even a monk who had not to mourn a brother in the flesh or a brother of the convent. Great, then, must have been the rejoicing over those who had been through all the dangers of the campaign, and now returned bringing their sheaves with them;—not of gold, for they had none; nor of rich raiment, for they were in rags—but of glory, and honour, and of precious relics, better in their simple eyes than any gold, and more priceless than any jewels. With these and their palm-branches they enriched and decorated their native churches, and the sight of them kept alive the crusading ardour even when the first soldiers were all dead.