The Great Sieges of History

by William Robson

These deeply-laid plans, however, were very near failing. At the moment the army left the camp, a report was circulated in Antioch that a plot was on foot. The Christians and newly-converted Mussulmans were suspected, and the name of Phirous was heard coupled with accusations of keeping up an intelligence with the besiegers. He was obliged to appear before Accien, who interrogated him sternly, with his eyes fixed upon him, to read his purpose in his countenance: but Phirous dispersed all suspicions by his self-possession. He himself proposed measures for detecting the traitors, if there were any; and advised his master to change the commanders of the principal towers. This advice was highly approved of, and Accien said he would follow it the next day. At the same time orders were issued to place all the Christians in the city in chains during the darkness of night. The renegade was then sent to his post, loaded with praises for his exactitude and fidelity. As night approached, everything appeared tranquil in Antioch, and Phirous, thinking his danger was over, awaited the Crusaders in the tower he had engaged to surrender.

As his brother commanded a tower next to his, he went to him, and endeavoured to draw him into the plot. “Brother,” said he, “you know that the Crusaders are gone to meet Kerbogha. When I reflect upon the miseries they have endured, and upon the death which threatens them, I cannot help entertaining a kind of pity for them. You are not ignorant that the Christian inhabitants of Antioch, after having suffered all sorts of outrages, are to be massacred by the orders of Accien. I cannot help pitying them, nor can I forget that we were born of the same religion, and were formerly brethren.” These words did not produce the effect Phirous expected. “I am astonished,” replied his brother, “that you should pity men who ought to inspire you with nothing but horror. Before the Crusaders arrived before Antioch, we were loaded with blessings. We have since passed our lives amidst dangers and alarms. May all the ills they have brought us recoil upon themselves! As for the Christians residing among us, don’t you know that they are almost all traitors, and only wish to deliver us to the swords of our enemies?” At these words he cast a threatening glance upon Phirous. The renegade saw that he was at least suspected. He acknowledged no brother in the man who refused to be his accomplice, and, as his only reply, plunged his dagger into his heart.

The decisive moment arrived. The night was dark, and a storm which had risen, considerably augmented the obscurity. The wind, which shook the roofs of the houses, together with the incessant peals of thunder, prevented the soldiers from hearing any noise round the ramparts. The sky looked inflamed towards the west, and the sight of a comet, which appeared above the horizon, seemed to announce to the superstitious minds of the Crusaders the moment destined for the destruction of the infidels. They awaited the signal with impatience. A Lombard, named Payen, sent by Bohemond, ascended the tower by a ladder of leather. Phirous received him, told him all was prepared, and, to convince him of his fidelity, pointed to the dead body of his brother. Whilst they were talking, an officer of the garrison came to visit the posts. He presented himself with a lantern before the tower. Phirous, without showing the least fear, concealed Bohemond’s messenger, and went forward to meet the officer. He received praises for his vigilance, and then hastened to send back Payen. The Lombard rejoined his comrades, and conjured Bohemond, on the part of Phirous, not to lose a moment.

But all at once a panic seized the soldiers: at the moment of execution, they perceived the full extent of the danger. Not one came forward to mount the ladder. In vain Godfrey and the prince of Tarentum employed by turns promises and threats: both leaders and soldiers remained motionless. Bohemond then ascended by a rope ladder, with the hope that his example would be followed by some of the bravest; but nobody felt it his duty to meet the risk. He arrived alone on the tower, where Phirous reproached him warmly for his tardiness. Bohemond redescended in haste, and told the soldiers all was ready to receive them. His words, but still more his example, at length revived the courage of the men. Sixty Crusaders prepared for the escalade. Encouraged by one Foulcher of Chartres, whom the historian of Tancred compares to an eagle conducting his young ones and flying at their head, they seized the ladder of leather and ascended the tower. Among these sixty was the count of Flanders, with many of the principal leaders. Sixty others soon followed the steps of the first, and these were followed by such numbers, and so precipitately, that the parapet to which the ladder was fastened gave way, and fell with a crash into the ditch. Those who were near the summit of the walls fell upon the lances and swords of their companions. All was confusion and disorder among the assailants; the leaders of the enterprise nevertheless looked on with a tranquil eye. Phirous, over the bloody body of his brother, embraced his new companions, gave up to their swords another brother who was with him, and put them in possession of the three towers confided to his command. Seven other towers soon fell into their hands. Phirous then called upon all the Christian army to advance; he fastened a fresh ladder to the rampart, by which the most impatient ascended, and pointed out to others a gate they could break in, and by which they entered the city in crowds.

Godfrey, Raymond, and the count of Normandy were soon in the streets of Antioch with their battalions. All the trumpets were sounded, and the four hills of the city resounded with the terrible cry, “Dieu le veut! Dieu le veut!” At the first report of the tumult, the Christian inhabitants of Antioch believed their last hour to be come, and that the Mussulmans were about to cut their throats. The latter, half-asleep, crawled from their houses to inquire the cause of the noise they heard, and died without knowing who were the traitors, or by what hand they were struck. Some, when aware of the danger, fled towards the mountain upon which the citadel was built; whilst others rushed out at the gates of the city. All who could not fly fell beneath the swords of the conquerors.

Notwithstanding the confusion, Bohemond did not fail to take possession of Antioch; and when day appeared, his red flag was seen floating over one of the highest towers of the city. At sight of this, the Crusaders left in charge of the camp uttered loud shouts of joy, and flocked to the city to partake of the new conquest. The slaughter of the Mussulmans was pursued with fury. The Christians, who had suffered much, exhibited their chains to their liberators, and increased their thirst for blood: the public places were covered with dead bodies, and blood flowed down all the streets. Every house and thing that was not marked with a cross was the object of their fury; all who did not pronounce the name of Christ were massacred without mercy.

In a single night, more than ten thousand of the inhabitants of Antioch perished; many who attempted to escape were brought back to either death or slavery. Accien, finding he was betrayed, and not daring to place confidence in any of his officers, resolved to fly towards Mesopotamia, and meet Kerbogha. After leaving the gates, he was proceeding without any escort, through forests and over mountains, when he fell in with some Armenian woodcutters. These men recognised the prince of Antioch, and as he was without a train, and bore upon his countenance the marks of depression and grief, they judged the city must be taken. One of them went up to him, snatched his sword from him, and plunged it into his heart. His head was brought to the new masters of Antioch, and Phirous was able to contemplate without fear the features of him who, the evening before, might have commanded his death. After having received great wealth as the reward of his treachery, the renegade re-embraced the Christianity he had abandoned, and followed the Crusaders to Jerusalem. Two years after, his ambition not being satisfied, he returned to the religion of Mahomet, and died abhorred by both Mussulmans and Christians, whose cause he had by turns embraced and betrayed.

When tired of slaughter, the Christians turned their attention towards the citadel; but that, being situated upon an almost inaccessible mountain, set their efforts at defiance. They satisfied themselves with surrounding it with machines of war and soldiers, and proceeded to indulge in all the intoxication inspired by their victory. The pillage of Antioch yielded immense treasures; and, although provisions did not abound, they gave themselves up to intemperance and debauchery.

These things took place in the early part of June, 1098; the siege had commenced in the month of October, the preceding year. After this success, for we cannot call it a victory, three days quickly passed away in rejoicings and festivity; but the fourth was a day of fear and of mourning.

A formidable army of Saracens approached Antioch. All the powers of the East were roused by the successes of the Christians, and Asia Minor seemed to be in arms to repel the attack of Europe. Kerbogha, sultan of Mossoul, commanded the Mussulman forces. This formidable leader had gained great experience in civil wars. Despising the Christians and confident in himself, the true model of the fierce Circassian celebrated by Tasso, he already considered himself the liberator of Asia. Three sultans, the governor of Jerusalem, and twenty-eight emirs, marched in his train. Animated by the thirst of vengeance, the Mussulman soldiers swore by their prophet to exterminate the Christians; and, three days after the taking of Antioch, the army of Kerbogha pitched their tents upon the banks of the Orontes. Their approach was announced to the Christians by the appearance of three hundred horsemen, who came under the walls to reconnoitre. Anxiety and alarm instantly succeeded to joy and excess; for they at once perceived that they had not provisions for a siege. Troops were sent to forage in all directions, but as the territory of Antioch had been ravaged for several months, they returned, to the consternation of their comrades, almost empty-handed. The moment the infidels arrived, they attacked the advanced posts of the Crusaders. In these early combats, the Christians had to lament the loss of some of their bravest warriors. Bohemond was wounded in a sortie. In vain Tancred and Godfrey performed progidies of valour; the Mussulmans drove the Christians into the city, in which they were now, in their turn, besieged.