Produced by Michael Pullen

The Deeds of God through the Franks by Guibert of Nogent

Copyright (C)1997 by Robert Levine

The Deeds of God through the Franks by Guibert of Nogent

translated by Robert Levine

(notes are at the end of chapter 7)

The four-year period (1095-1099) between the call for crusade by Pope Urban II at the Council of Claremont and the capture of Jerusalem produced a remarkable amount of historiography, both in Western Europe and in Asia Minor. Three accounts by western European eye-witnesses—an anonymous soldier or priest in Bohemund's army, Fulker of Chartres, and Raymond of Aguilers—provoked later twelfth-century Latin writers from various parts of what are now France, Germany, England, Italy, and the Near East, to take up the task of providing more accurate, more thorough, more interpretive, and better written versions of the events.

Very little is known about most of the earliest rewriters; Albert of Aix, Robert the Monk, and Raoul of Caen are little more than names, while Baldric of Dole is known to have occupied a significant ecclesiastical position, and to have composed other literary works. Guibert of Nogent, on the other hand, is better known than any other historian of the First Crusade, in spite of the fact that The Deeds of God Through the Franks, composed in the first decade of the twelfth century (1106-1109), did not circulate widely in the middle ages, and no writer of his own time mentions him. Guibert himself, in the course of the autobiographical work he composed in the second decade of the twelfth century (1114-1117), never mentions the Deeds, and it has never been translated into English.[1] What measure of fame he currently has is based mostly on his autobiography, the Monodiae, or Memoirs, an apparently more personal document, which has been translated into both French and English.[2]

Although the Memoirs contain a strong historical component—the third book, in particular, if used with discretion, offers rich material for a study of the civil disorder that took place in Laon 1112-111— the first book has attracted the attention of most recent scholars and critics because it offers more autobiographical elements. However, Guibert did not include among those elements the exact date and place of his birth.[3] Scholarly discussion has narrowed the possible dates to 1053-1065, although the latest editor of the Memoirs, Edmonde Labande, categorically chooses 1055. Among the candidates for his birthplace are Clermont-en-Beauvaisis, Agnetz, Catenoy, Bourgin, and Autreville, all within a short distance of Beauvais. No record of his death, generally assumed to have occurred by 1125, has survived.

In spite of the lack of exactitude about places and dates, the Memoirs provide an extensive account of some of the ways religious, psychological, and spiritual problems combined in the mind of an aristocratic oblate, who became an aggressive Benedictine monk, fervently attached to his pious mother, fascinated and horrified by sexuality, enraged at the extent of contemporary ecclesiastical corruption, intensely alert to possible heresies, and generally impatient with all opinions not his own.[4] The personality that dominates the Monodiae had already permeated the earlier, historical text. As cantankerous as Carlyle, Guibert reveals in the Deeds the same qualities that Jonathan Kantor detected in the Memoirs:

The tone of the memoirs is consistently condemning and not confiding; they were written not by one searching for the true faith but by one determined to condemn the faithless.[5]

Such a tone is clearly reflected in the Deeds, whose very title is designed to correct the title of the anonymous Gesta Francorum, generally considered to be the earliest chronicle, and possibly eye-witness account (in spite of the evidence that a "monkish scribe" had a hand in producing the text), of the First Crusade.[6] Throughout his rewriting (for the most part, amplifying) of the Gesta Francorum, Guibert insists upon the providential nature of the accomplishment; by replacing the genitive plural of Franks with the genitive singular of God, Guibert lays the credit and responsibility for the deeds done—though, not by the French—where they properly belong.[7]

Guibert also sees to it that his characters explicitly articulate their awareness of providential responsibility; in Book IV, one of the major leaders of the Crusade, Bohemund, addresses his men:

Bohemund said: "O finest knights, your frequent victories provide an explanation for your great boldness. Thus far you have fought for the faith against the infidel, and have emerged triumphant from every danger. Having already felt the abundant evidence of Christ's strength should give you pleasure, and should convince you beyond all doubt that in the most severe battles it is not you, but Christ, who has fought.

The Gesta Francorum, however, the text that Guibert sets out to correct, did not neglect the providential aspect of the First Crusade, although the surviving text contains no prologue making such an agenda blatantly explicit. Nevertheless, the anonymous author provides more than enough characters, direct discourse, and action to assure every reader that God looked favorably upon the Crusade. The warning given to Kherboga by his mother, for example,[8] indicates that even pagans were aware that God was on the side of the Christians; the appearance of the divine army,—led by three long-dead saints,[9] is another example of divine support. Perhaps the most vivid example is the series of visits Saint Andrew pays to Peter Bartholomew,[10] urging him to dig up the Lance that pierced Christ's side.

Redirecting, or redistributing the credit for victory, then, was not a radical contribution by Guibert. A far more noticeable correction, however, was the result of Guibert's determination to correct the style of his source:

A version of this same history, but woven out of excessively simple words, often violating grammatical rules, exists, and it may often bore the reader with the stale, flat quality of its language.

The result of his attempt to improve the quality of the Gesta's language, however, is what has distressed some of the modern readers who have tried to deal with Guibert's strenuously elaborate diction, [11] itself a part of his general delight, perhaps obsession, with difficulty. The utter lack of references to Guibert by his contemporaries may indicate that earlier readers shared R.B.C. Huygens' recent judgement that it is marred by an "affected style and pretentious vocabulary."[12]

Guibert seems to have anticipated such a response; at the beginning of Book Five of the Gesta he claims to be utterly unconcerned with his audiences' interests and abilities:

In addition to the spiritual reward this little work of mine may bring, my purpose in writing is to speak as I would wish someone else, writing the same story, would speak to me. For my mind loves what is somewhat obscure, and detests a raw, unpolished style. I savor those things which are able to exercise my mind more than those things which, too easily understood, are incapable of inscribing themselves upon a mind always avid for novelty. In everything that I have written and am writing, I have driven everyone from my mind, instead thinking only of what is good for myself, with no concern for pleasing anyone else. Beyond worrying about the opinions of others, calm or unconcerned about my own, I await the blows of whatever words may fall upon me.[13]

However, anyone who reads the conventionally obsequious opening of the dedicatory epistle to Bishop Lysiard would have difficulty accepting the claim that Guibert has no concern for pleasing anyone else:

Some of my friends have often asked me why I do not sign this little work with my own name; until now I have refused, out of fear of sullying pious history with the name of a hateful person. However, thinking that the story, splendid in itself, might become even more splendid if attached to the name of a famous man, I have decided to attach it to you. Thus I have placed most pleasing lamp in front of the work of an obscure author. For, since your ancient lineage is accompanied by a knowledge of literature, an unusual serenity and moral probity, one may justly believe that God in his foresight wanted the dignity of the bishop's office to honor the gift of such reverence. By embracing your name, the little work that follows may flourish: crude in itself, it may be made agreeable by the love of the one to whom it is written, and made stronger by the authority of the office by which you stand above others.

We do not know whether Lysiard shared Guibert's fascination with what is difficult, but the failure of any other medieval writer to mention Guibert implies a negative reception in general for the Gesta Dei.

Not every modern reader, however, has been alienated by Guibert's posture. Labande expresses some enthusiasm for "la virtuosité du styliste,"[14] and declares that Guibert's various uses of literary devices "mériteraient une étude attentive." Acknowledging the fact that Guibert's language is somewhat "alambique" and "tarbiscoté," Labande had argued in an earlier article, although only on the basis of the historical material in the Monodiae, that Guibert deserved to be appreciated as an historian, with some "modern" qualities.[15] Going even further than Labande, Eitan Burstein admires "la richesse et l complexité" of Guibert's diction.[16] One might also point out that Guibert was not the first to compose a text of an historical nature in a self-consciously elaborate, difficult style. A century earlier Dudo of Saint Quentin had used such a style for his history of the Normans;[17] Saxo Grammaticus' History of the Danes indicates that the acrobatic style did not die out with Guibert.[18]

Translating into English the work of a deliberately difficult writer, whose declared aspiration is to be as hermetic as possible, might become a quixotic task, if Guibert's passion and energy had been focused only on providing a performance worthy of Martianus Capella. [19] The abbot of Nogent, however, also provides additional material, excises or corrects stories that he considers inaccurate, or worse, and, as his corrective title indicates, alters the focus of the material. The results of Guibert's efforts certainly provide unusually rich material for those interested in medieval mentalité. In addition, since history was a branch of rhetoric during the middle-ages (i.e., it was a part of literature),[20] those interested in intertextual aspects of medieval literature will find a treasure trove, particularly since Guibert eventually sets about correcting and improving two earlier texts.[21]

A clear example of what Guibert means by improvement occurs in his amplification of the Crusaders' arrival at Jerusalem. Where the Gesta Francorum had provided:

We, however, joyful and exultant, came to the city of Jerusalem…

Guibert composes a veritable cadenza on the arrival:

Finally they reached the place which had provoked so many hardships for them, which had brought upon them so much thirst and hunger for such a long time, which had stripped them, kept them sleepless, cold, and ceaselessly frightened, the most intensely pleasurable place, which had been the goal of the wretchedness they had undergone, and which had lured them to seek death and wounds. To this place, I say, desired by so many thousands of thousands, which they had greeted with such sadness and in jubilation, they finally came, to Jerusalem.

Amplifications like this, magnifying the internal, psychological significance of the events, while simultaneously insisting upon the religious nature of the expedition, characterize Guibert's response to the Gest Francorum. His desire to correct is complicated by the competitive urges that emerge when he faces the other apparently eye-witness account of the First Crusade that became available to him, Fulcher of Chartres' Histori Hierosolymitana.[22] Where he had offered gently corrective remarks about the crudeness of the Gest Francorum, Guibert mounts a vitriolic attack on Fulker's pretentiousness:

Since this same man produces swollen, foot-and-a-half words, pours forth the blaring colors of vapid rhetorical schemes,[23] I prefer to snatch the bare limbs of the deeds themselves, with whatever sack-cloth of eloquence I have, rather than cover them with learned weavings.[24]

However, to convince readers of his superiority Guibert knew that stylistic competence was necessary but not sufficient, particularly because both Fulker and the author of the Gesta Francorum had convinced most readers, including Guibert himself, that they were eye-witnesses of most of the events in their texts.[25] Guibert then had to deal with the commonplace assumption passed on by Isidore of Seville:

Apud veteres enim nemo conscribebat historiam, nisi is qui interfuisset, et ea quae conscribend essent vidisset.[26]

Among the ancients no one wrote history unless he had been present and had seen the things he was writing about.

To overcome his apparent disadvantage, Guibert offers defense of his second-hand perspective several times in the course of his performance.

In the fifth book, immediately after acknowledging the fascination of what is difficult, Guibert provides two paragraphs on the difficulties of determining exactly what happened at Antioch. These paragraphs offer another opportunity to watch Guibert rework material from an earlier text. The author of the Gesta Francorum had invoked variation of the topos of humility,[27] just before giving his account of how Antioch was betrayed by someone inside the city:

I am unable to narrate everything that we did before the city was captured, because no one who was in these parts, neither cleric nor laity, could write or narrate entirely what happened. But I shall tell a little.[28]

When Guibert takes his turn at the topos, he is clearly determined to outdo the author of the Gesta Francorum, both stylistically and in terms of the theory of historiography:

We judge that what happened at the siege of Antioch cannot possibly be told by anyone, because, among those who were there, no one can be found who could have observed everything that took place throughout the city, or who could understand the entire event in a way that would enable him to represent the sequence of actions as they took place.

At the beginning of the fourth book of the Gest Dei, Guibert's defense of his absence is again intertextual, but openly polemic as well, as he declares the battle between modern Christian writing (saints lives and John III.32) and ancient pagan authority (Horace, Ars Poetica 180-181) no contest:

If anyone objects that I did not see, he cannot object on the grounds that I did not hear, because I believe that, in a way, hearing is almost as good as seeing. For although:

Less vividly is the mind stirred by what finds entrance through the ears than by what is brought before the trusty eyes.[29]

Yet who is unaware that historians and those who wrote the lives of the saints wrote down not only what they had seen, but also those things they had drawn from what others had told them? If the truthful man, as it is written, reports "what he has seen and heard," then his tale may be accepted as true when he describes what he has not seen, but has been told by reliable speakers.

Guibert then goes on to challenge those who object to do the job better.

Correcting the Gesta Francorum, castigating Fulker, and challenging his other contemporaries, however, do not absorb all of Guibert's competitive urges. He also attacks both the Graeco-Roman and Jewish texts upon which he also heavily depends.[30] His use of moderns to castigate the ancients begins in Book One:

We wonder at Chaldean pride, Greek bitterness, the sordidness of the Egyptians, the instability of the Asiatics, as described by Trogus Pompeius and other fine writers. We judge that the early Roman institutions usefully served the common good and the spread of their power. And yet, if the essence of these things were laid bare, not only would the relentless madness of fighting without good reason, only for the sake of ruling, would obviously deserve reproach. Let us look carefully, indeed let us come to our senses about the remains, I might have said dregs, of this time which we disdain, and we may find, as that foolish king said,[31] that our little finger is greater than the backs of our fathers, whom we praise excessively. If we look carefully at the wars of the pagans and the kingdoms they traveled through by great military effort, we shall conclude that none of their strength, their armies, by the grace of God, is comparable to ours.

Throughout the text Guibert relentlessly insists that the Crusaders outdo the ancient Jews; in the last book he attempts to strip them of every accomplishment:

The Lord saves the tents of Judah in the beginning, since He, after having accomplished miracles for our fathers, also granted glory to our own times, so that modern men seem to have undergone pain and suffering greater than that of the Jews of old, who, in the company of their wives and sons, and with full bellies, were led by angels who made themselves visible to them.[32]

Partisan outbreaks like this fill the Gesta Dei per Francos, perhaps more clearly distinguishing it from the earlier accounts of the First Crusade than Guibert's more elaborate syntax, and self-conscious diction.

His hatred of poor people also penetrates the text, often to bring into higher relief the behavior of aristocrats. In Book Two, for example, he offers a comic portrayal of poor, ignorant pilgrims:

There you would have seen remarkable, even comical things: poor men, their cattle pulling two-wheeled carts, armed as though they were horses, carrying their few possessions together with their small children in the wagon. The small childrne, whenever they came upon a castle or town on the way, asked whether this was the Jerusalem they were seeking.

In the seventh and last book, Guibert tells the story of the woman and the goose, again to ridicule the foolishness of the poor:

A poor woman set out on the journey, when a goose, filled with I do not know what instructions, clearly exceeding the laws of her own dull nature, followed her. Lo, rumor, flying on Pegasean wings, filled the castles and cities with the news that even geese had been sent by God to liberate Jerusalem. Not only did they deny that this wretched woman was leading the goose, but they said that the goose led her. At Cambrai they assert that, with people standing on all sides, the woman walked through the middle of the church to the altar, and the goose followed behind, in her footsteps, with no one urging it on. Soon after, we have learned, the goose died in Lorraine; she certainly would have gone more directly to Jerusalem if, the day before she set out, she had made of herself a holiday meal for her mistress.

Poor people, however, are not merely comic, but dangerous, to themselves, as Guibert's version of the story of Peter the Hermit indicates, and to others, as Guibert's version of the death of Peter Bartholomew emphasizes.[33]

The story of the goose, however, is a comic reflection of a persistently urgent problem on the First Crusade; Guibert addresses the problem of famine often, and expresses particularly warm sympathy towards aristocratic hunger:

How many jaws and throats of noble men were eaten away by the roughness of this bread. How terribly were their fine stomachs revolted by the bitterness of the putrid liquid. Good God, we think that they must have suffered so, these men who remembered their high social position in their native land, where they had been accustomed to great ease and pleasure, and now could find no hope or solace in any external comfort, as they burned in the terrible heat. Here is what I and I alone think: never had so many noble men exposed their own bodies to so much suffering for a purely spiritual benefit.

Furthermore, he bends over backwards to defend aristocrats towards whom other historians of the First Crusade were far less sympathetic. Guibert's description of the count of Normandy, for example, shows remarkable moral flexibility:

It would hardly be right to remain silent about Robert, Count of Normandy, whose bodily indulgences, weakness of will, prodigality with money, gourmandising, indolence, and lechery were expiated by the perseverance and heroism that he vigorously displayed in the army of the Lord. His inborn compassion was naturally so great that he did not permit vengeance to be taken against those who had plotted to betray him and had been sentenced to death, and if something did happen to them, he wept for their misfortune. He was bold in battle, although adeptness at foul trickery, with which we know many men befouled themselves, should not be praised, unless provoked by unspeakable acts. For these and for similar things he should now be forgiven, since God has punished him in this world, where he now languishes in jail, deprived of all his honors.

His defense of Stephen of Blois also shows a remarkably complex tolerance and sensitivity towards aristocratic failure:

At that time, Count Stephen of Blois, formerly man of great discretion and wisdom, who had been chosen as leader by the entire army, said that he was suffering from a painful illness, and, before the army had broken into Antioch, Stephen made his way to a certain small town, which was called Alexandriola. When the city had been captured and was again under siege, and he learned that the Christian leaders were in dire straits, Stephen, either unable or unwilling, delayed sending them aid, although they were awaiting his help. When he heard that an army of Turks had set up camp before the city walls, he rode shrewdly to the mountains and observed the amount the enemy had brought. When he saw the fields covered with innumerable tents, in understandably human fashion he retreated, judging that no mortal power could help those shut up in the city. A man of the utmost probity, energetic, pre-eminent in his love of truth, thinking himself unable to bring help to them, certain that they would die, as all the evidence indicated, he decided to protect himself, thinking that he would incur no shame by saving himself for a opportune moment.

Guibert concludes his defense of Stephen's questionable behavior with a skillful use of counter-attack:

And I certainly think that his flight (if, however, it should be called a flight, since the count was certainly ill), after which the dishonorable act was rectified by martyrdom, was superior to the return of those who, persevering in their pursuit of foul pleasure, descended into the depths of criminal behavior. Who could claim that count Stephen and Hugh the Great, who had always been honorable, because they had seemed to retreat for this reason, were comparable to those who had steadfastly behaved badly?

One of the functions of the panegyric he composes for martyred Crusader is to make Guibert's own rank clear, present, and significant:

We have heard of many who, captured by the pagans and ordered to deny the sacraments of faith, preferred to expose their heads to the sword than to betray the Christian faith in which they had been instructed. Among them I shall select one, knight and an aristocrat, but more illustrious for his character than all others of his family or social class I have ever known. From the time he was a child I knew him, and I watched his fine disposition develop. Moreover, he and I came from the same region, and his parents held benefices from my parents, and owed them homage, and we grew up together, and his whole life and development were an open book to me.

He is a spokesman not only for aristocrats, but for the French, in spite of his emphasis on per Deum in his title, regularly emphasizing, throughout his text, the significance and superiority of the French contribution. At the end of Book One, Guibert insists that Bohemund, the major military figure in his history, was really French:

Since his family was from Normandy, a part of France, and since he had obtained the hand of the daughter of the king of the French, he might be very well be considered a Frank.

In Book Three, when the Franks win a significant victory, Guibert insists that the defeated Turks and the victorious Franks have not merely common but noble ancestors, thereby melding his two political commitments:

But perhaps someone may object, arguing that the enemy forces were merely peasants, scum herded together from everywhere. Certainly the Franks themselves, who had undergone such great danger, testified that they could have known of no race comparable to the Turks, either in liveliness of spirit, or energy in battle. When the Turks initiated a battle, our men were almost reduced to despair by the novelty of their tactics in battle; they were not accustomed to their speed on horseback, not to their ability to avoid our frontal assaults. We had particular difficulty with the fact that they fired their arrows only when fleeing from the battle. It was the Turk's opinion, however, that they shared an ancestry with the Franks, and that the highest military prowess belonged particularly to the Turks and Franks, above all other people.

Having praised the West at the expense of the East in the first book, in the second he praises the French at the expense of the Teutons, recounting a conversation he recently held with a German ecclesiastic, to show himself an ardent defender of ethnicity:

Last year while I was speaking with a certain archdeacon of Mainz about a rebellion of his people, I heard him vilify our king and our people, merely because the king had given gracious welcome everywhere in his kingdom to his Highness Pope Paschalis and his princes; he called them not merely Franks, but, derisively, "Francones." I said to him, "If you think them so weak and languid that you can denigrate a name known and admired as far away as the Indian Ocean, then tell me upon whom did Pope Urban call for aid against the Turks? Wasn't it the French? Had they not been present, attacking the barbarians everywhere, pouring their sturdy energy and fearless strength into the battle, there would have been no help for your Germans, whose reputation there amounted to nothing." That is what I said to him.

Guibert then turns to his reader, and provides a more extensive panegyric for his people, recalling pre-Merovingian accomplishments:

I say truly, and everyone should believe it, that God reserved this nation for such a task. For we know certainly that, from the time that they received the sign of faith that blessed Remigius brought to them, they succumbed to none of the diseases of false faith from which other nations have remained uncontaminated either with great difficulty or not at all. They are the ones who, while still laboring under the pagan error, when they triumphed on the battlefield over the Gauls, who were Christians, did not punish or kill any of them, because they believed in Christ. Instead, those whom Roman severity had punished with sword and fire, French native generosity covered with gems and amber. They strove to welcome with honor not only those who lived within their own borders, but they also affectionately cared for people who came from Spain, Italy, or anywhere else, so that love for the martyrs and confessors, whom they constantly served and honored, made them famous, finally driving them to the glorious victory at Jerusalem. Because it has carried the yoke since the days of its youth, it will sit in isolation,[34] a nation noble, wise, war-like, generous, brilliant above all kinds of nations. Every nation borrows the name as an honorific title; do we not see the Bretons, the English, the Ligurians call men "Frank" if they behave well? But now let us return to the subject.

"Let us return to the subject," like the earlier injunction, "let us continue in the direction in which we set out," indicates Guibert's awareness of his tendency to perform "sorties."[35] At times he turns from the narrative to deliver a sermon, or to offer a biography of Mahomet, and, more than once, to lecture on ecclesiastical history. The apparent looseness of structure which results, a quality Misch attributed to the Memoirs as well, may be symptom of Guibert's Shandy-like temperament, or may be evidence that the remarks he made about his style in an early aside to the reader apply equally well to his structure:

Please, my reader, knowing without a doubt that I certainly had no more time for writing than those moments during which I dictated the words themselves, forgive the stylistic infelicities; I did first write on writing-tablets to be corrected diligently later, but I wrote them directly on the parchment, exactly as it is, harshly barked out.

Such a cavalier attitude towards the finished product was not characteristic of Guibert,[36] and seems to be in keeping neither with his declared penchant for difficulty, nor with his declared intention to raise the level of his style to match the significance of his subject:

No one should be surprised that I make use of style very much different from that of the Commentaries on Genesis, or the other little treatises; for it is proper and permissible to ornament a history with the crafted elegance of words; however, the mysteries of sacred eloquence should be treated not with poetic loquacity, but with ecclesiastical plainness. Therefore I ask you to accept this graciously, and to keep it as perpetual monument to your name.

The seriousness of purpose and the apparent looseness of structure may perhaps be reconciled by considering that the literal level of events was a less urgent concern for Guibert than the significance of those events. In addition, he imagined himself not so much as a recorder of events, but as a competitor in a rhetorical agon, as the implied metaphor that he uses in describing his activity as writer, in hujus stadio operis excurrisse debueram, "racing in a stadium," implies.

In fact, in the course of composing his explicitly corrective version of the First Crusade, Guibert participates in several contests simultaneously; he "mollifies" the style and corrects the substance of previous writers on the Crusades; he argues for some miracles and against others; he utilizes and attempts to transcend both the Graeco-Roman and the Judaeo part of the Judaeo-Christian past. As a rhetorical performance, in both prose and verse, the results are impressive, since the Gesta Dei per Francos simultaneously reflects historical reality, and provides some insight into the workings of the mind of gifted, early twelfth-century French cleric and aristocrat.

Summary of the Gesta Dei per Francos

Characteristically, Guibert opens the Gesta defensively, justifying his choice of a modern topic by insisting upon the exceptional nature of the Crusade, as well as the exceptional nature of the French. The entire first book is devoted to a selective history of the Eastern Church and a denunciation of heresies, concluding with an extensive invective against Mahomet, compounding sex, excrement, and disease. [37] Guibert then moves forward in time, to the generation before the First Crusade, to describe a complaint about Muslim lust made by the Greek Emperor to the elder Count Robert of Flanders. Guibert also complains about the Greek Emperor's own excessive interest in erotic motivation for warriors.

Book Two begins with an account that amounts to little more than a panegyric of Pope Urban II, admired by Guibert at least partially because he is French. Guibert then compliments the French for their long-standing loyalty to the Popes, and for their generally Christian behavior.[38] Guibert then proceeds to describe the rise of Peter the Hermit as leader of the poor people who misguidedly set out on the Crusade, a group whose lack of control outrages Guibert throughout the Gesta.[39] However, he quickly returns to giving an account of the aristocrats who took the cross, composing panegyrics for Godfrey, Baldwin, and Eustace of Bouillon, complimenting Godfrey in particular for his military victories in skirmishes with the Greek emperor. The second book ends with a description of some of the other leaders and their qualities.

In Book Three Guibert introduces Bohemund, describes the siege of
Nicea, the battle of Dorylea, and adds the story about Baldwin's
adoption by the ruler of Edessa (not to be found in the Gesta
Francorum).

In Book Four the Crusaders arrive at Antioch and take up the lengthy siege. Guibert again adds material not to be found in the Gesta Francorum: one story involves the false stigmata of an abbot, another the martyrdom of a man know personally by Guibert.

In Book Five Guibert describes the taking of Antioch, the capture of Cassian and his decapitation by Armenians and Syrians, the prediction of eventual Christian victory by Kherboga's mother, the Crusaders' themselves besieged in Antioch, the initial resistance to Peter's vision about the location of the Lance,[40] and the desertion of the Crusade by Stephen of Blois, whom Guibert defends with his characteristic loyalty to aristocrats.

Book Six offers the discovery of the Lance, a futile meeting between Peter the Hermit and Kherboga, the reported appearance of a celestial army, the Crusaders' defeat of Kherboga, and the lifting of the siege of Antioch. In addition, Ademar of Puy dies, the Crusaders attack Marrah, and Bohemund and Raymond of St. Gilles disagree about to whom Antioch belongs. The trial by fire of Peter Bartholomew (not to be found in the Gesta Francorum) differs significantly and with clear polemical intentions from the scene in Fulcher; Guibert attributes the skepticism about the authenticity of the Lance to the death of Ademar. The book ends with the martyrdom of Anselm of Ribemont, and mention of his letters, which Guibert will use later.

Book Seven is more than twice the length of any of the earlier books; in it the Crusaders reach Tripoli, negotiate successfully with its king, continue on through Palestine, reach Jerusalem, and begin the siege. As part of his extended panegyric of both brothers, Guibert now inserts the story of Godfrey cutting a man in half and wrestling with bear (not in the Gesta Francorum), which permits him, by association, to modulate to the story of Baldwin refusing to be saved by having a soldier killed and examined for similar wound, instead agreeing to substitute a bear. As he approaches the end of his task, Guibert loosens the structure of his narrative even more, providing a discussion of Near Eastern ecclesiastical politics, a description of some of the battles in which the Crusaders consolidated their control over Palestine, and a cadenza, dense with Biblical quotations and some allegorical exegesis, on the significance of the Crusade itself. After providing an anecdote about the way in which children's combat inspired the soldiers, Guibert provides a brief discussion of the Tafurs, and describes the betrayal by the emperor that led to the death of Hugh Magnus. Next Guibert describes Stephen's disastrous expedition to Paphligonia, offers conflicting versions of Godfrey's death, mentions his replacement by Baldwin, and provides a flashback to Robert of Flanders' visit to Jerusalem twelve years before the Crusade (at which time, according to Guibert, an astrological prediction of a later Christian victory had been made). Guibert now tells a story about a man who defeated the Devil, then attacks Fulker of Chartres for his style, for his story about Pirrus betraying Antioch, and for his rejection of the authenticity of the Lance.

Guibert's Other Works

None of the salacious verse Guibert confesses to have written in his youth has survived.[41] Instead, in addition to the Gesta Dei and the Monodiae, the following writings, entirely on religious topics, have survived, and have been published in vol 156 of Migne's Patrologia Latina:

Quo ordine sermo fieri debeat (Migne 21-32 and Huygens 1993 47-63).
Moralium Geneseos libri decem (Migne 32-338).

Tropologiae in prophetas Osee, Amos ac Lamentationes Jeremiae (Migne 337-488).

Tractatus de Incarnatione contra Judaeos (Migne 489-528).

Epistola de buccella Judae data et de veritate dominici Corporis
(Migne 527-538 and Huygens 1993 65-77).

De laude sanctae Mariae liber (Migne 537-578).

De virginitate opusculum (Migne 579-608).

De pignoribus sanctorum libri quatuor (Migne 607-680 and Huygens 1993 79-175).

The Translation

In diction, syntax, word order, and complexity of expression, Guibert's Latin is more difficult than that of any other Latin historian of the First Crusade. I have tried to preserve as much of the complexity of the syntax as is tolerable in comprehensible English sentences. Guibert's penchant for alliteration, rhyming clausulae, and pithiness must usually be sacrificed. A characteristic example of the sonic loss occurs in my attempt to translate the sardonic description of Arnulf's elevation to patriarch:

…dum vox magis quam vita curatur, ad hoc ut Iherosolimitanus fieret patriarcha vocatur. (RHC 4.233)

and since a man's voice is of more concern than the life he has led, he was called to the patriarchy of Jerusalem.

I have followed the paragraphs of the latest edition, often longer than those to which twentieth-century readers are accustomed, to allow readers to check the original more easily. Passages which Guibert composed in verse are translated into prose and indented. Guizot's early nineteenth-century French translation, although at times erroneous or misleading, was very helpful.

Notes

Annotating Guibert's text in a truly satisfying manner would have produced a prologomenon to a synoptic history of the First Crusade. [42] Instead, I have tried to limit myself to providing: (1) information necessary to understand and to clarify the translation; (2) sources for Guibert's Biblical and classical references; (3) modern names of cities and towns mentioned in the text;[43] (4) the names of the meters in which Guibert composes the portions of his text in verse; (5) representative illustrations of the intertextual nature of the Gesta Dei per Francos.

Acknowledgements

I am grateful to Jessica Weiss for reading through the entire translation and making useful corrections and suggestions, to Mark Stansbury for reading through parts of the translation and making useful corrections and suggestions, and to the staff of The Boston University Office of Information Technology for help in solving problems involving word-processing.

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Auerbach, Erich, Literary language and its public in late antiquity and in the Middle Ages, translated by Ralph Mannheim, New York, 1965.

Baldric of Dole, Historia Hierosolymitana, RHC.HO IV. pp. 1-111.

Benton, John, Self and Society in Medieval France, New York, 1970.

Boehm, Laetitia, Studien zur Geschichtschreibung des ersten
Kreuzzuges Guibert von Nogent, Munich, 1954.

Bréhier, Louis (ed. and tr.), Histoire anonyme de l première croisade,
Paris, 1924.

Bull, Marcus, Knightly Piety and the Lay Response to the First
Crusade, Oxford, 1993.

Burstein, Eitan, "Quelques remarques à propos du vocabulaire de Guibert de Nogent," Cahiers de civilisation médiévale, XXI (1978), pp. 247-263.

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Hagenmayer, Heidelberg, 1913.

Garand, Monique-Cecile and Etcheverry, Francois, "Analyse d'écriture et macrophotographie; les manuscripts originaux de Guibert de Nogent, Codices manuscripti I (1975), pp. 112-122.

__, "Le Scriptorium de Guibert de Nogent," Scriptorium XXXI (1977), pp. 3-29.

Grundmann, Herbert, Geschichtsschreibung im Mittelalters, Goettingen, 1965.

Guenée, Bernard, Histoire et culture historique dans l'occident mediéval, Paris, 1980.

Guibert de Nogent, Autobiographie, edited and translated by
Edmond-René Labande, Paris, 1981.

Guibert de Nogent, Gesta Dei per Francos, RHC.HO IV, pp. 115-263.

Guizot, F., Collection des mémoires rélatifs à l'histoire de France,
Paris, 1823-35, v. 9.

Hagenmeyer, Heinrich, Chronologie de la première croisade, Hildesheim, 1898-1901.

__, (ed.) Epistulae et chartae ad historiam primi belli sacri spectantes, Innsbruck, 1901.

Huygens, R.B.C., Guibert de Nogent: Quo Ordine Sermo Fieri Debeat; De
Bucella Iudae Data et De Veritate Dominic Corporis; De Sanctis et
Eorum Pigneribus, Turnholt, 1993.

__, La tradition manuscrite de Guibert de Nogent, The Hague, 1991.

__, (ed.), Guillaume de Tyre Chronique, Turnholt, 1986, I and II.

Knoch, Peter, Studien zur Albert von Aachen, Stuttgart, 1966.

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The letter of Guibert to Lysiard

Some of my friends have often asked me why I do not sign this little work with my own name; until now I have refused, out of fear of sullying a pious history with the name of hateful person. However, thinking that the story, splendid in itself, might become even more splendid if attached to the name of a famous man, I have finally decided to attach it to you. Thus I have placed a most pleasing lamp in front of the work of an obscure author. For, since your ancient lineage is accompanied by a knowledge of literature, as well an unusual serenity and moral probity, one may justly believe that God in his foresight wanted the dignity of the bishop's office to honor the gift of such reverence. By embracing your name, the little work that follows may flourish: crude in itself, it may be made agreeable by the love of the one to whom it is written, and made stronger by the authority of the office by which you stand above others. Certainly there were bishops, and others, who have heard something about this book and about some of my other writings; leaving them aside, my greatest wish was to reach you. In reading this you should consider that, if I occasionally have deviated from common grammatical practice, I have done it to correct the vices, the style that slithers along the ground, of the earlier history. I see villages, cities, towns, fervently studying grammar, for which reason I tried, to the best of my abilities, not to deviate from the ancient historians. Finally, consider that while taking care of my household duties, listening to the many cases brought to my attention, I burned with the desire to write, and, even more, to pass the story along; and while I was compelled outwardly to listen to various problems, presented with biting urgency, inwardly I was steadily compelled to persist in what I had begun. No one should be surprised that I make use of a style very much different from that of the Commentaries on Genesis or the other little treatises; for it is proper and permissible to ornament history with the crafted elegance of words; however, the mysteries of sacred eloquence should be treated not with poetic loquacity, but with ecclesiastical plainess. Therefore I ask you to accept this graciously, and to keep it as a perpetual monument to your name.

Preface to the book of the deeds of God by means of the Franks

In trying to compose the present small work, I have placed my faith not in my literary knowledge, of which I have very little, but rather in the spiritual authority of the history events themselves, for I have always been certain that it was brought to completion only by the power of God alone, and through those men whom he willed. Likewise, the story undoubtedly was written down by whatever men, even if uneducated, God willed. I am unable to doubt that He who guided their steps through so many difficulties, who removed the many military obstacles that lay before them, will implant within me, in whatever manner he pleases, the truth about what happened, nor will he deny to me the ability to choose the correct and fitting words. A version of this same history, but woven out of excessively simple words, often violating grammatical rules, exists, and it may often bore the reader with the stale, flat quality of its language. It works well enough for the less learned, who are not interested in the quality of the diction, but only in the novelty of the story, nor is it the case that the author should have spoken in a way that they do not understand. Those, moreover, who think that honesty nourishes eloquence, when they see that the words have been chosen less carefully than the narrative demands, and that the story is told briefly where the elaborate variety of mollifying[44] eloquence was appropriate, when they see the narration proceed bare-footed, then, as the poet says, they will either sleep or laugh.[45] They hate a badly performed speech, which they judge should have been recited in a much different way. The style of writers should fit the status of the events: martial deeds should be told with harsh words; what pertains to divine matters must be brought along at more controlled pace. In the course of this work, if my ability is equal to the task, I should perform in both modes, so that haughty Gradivus[46] may find that his lofty crimes have been represented in matching words, and, when piety is the subject, gravity is never violated by excessive cleverness.[47] Even if I have been unable to follow these standards, nevertheless I have learned to admire or praise for the most part what is done well by someone else. Therefore I confess that I, with shameless temerity, but out of love of faith, have run the risk of being criticized by judges whom I do not know because, when they find that I have taken up this project with a vow to correct a previous work, they may value the second less than the first. Since we see a passion for grammar everywhere, and we know that the discipline, because of the number of scholars that now exist, is now open to the worst students, it would be horrid thing not to write, even if we write only as we are able, and not as we should, about this glory of our time, or even to leave the story hidden in the scabbiness of artless speech. I have seen what God has done in these times—miracles greater than any he has ever performed—and now I see a gem of this kind lying in the lowest dust. Impatient with such contemptuous treatment, I have taken care, with whatever eloquence I have, to clean what was given over to neglect more preciously than any gold. I have not boldly done this entirely on my own initiative, but I have faithfully promised others, who were eager for this to be done. Some asked that I write in prose; but most asked that it be done in meter, since they knew that I had, in my youth, performed more elementary exercises in verse than I should have. Older and more responsible, however, I thought that it should not be done with words designed to be applauded, or with the clatter of verse; but I thought, if I may dare to say this, that it deserved being told with greater dignity than all the histories of Jewish warfare, if God would grant someone the ability to do this. I do not deny that I set my mind to writing after the capture of Jerusalem, when those who had taken part in the expedition began to return; but because I did not want to be importunate, I put the task off. However, because, with the permission (I do not know if it is in accordance with the will) of God, the chance to carry out my wishes came about, I have gone forward with what I had desired piously, perhaps only to be laughed at by everyone, yet I shall transcend the laughter of some, as long as I may occupy myself with the daily growth of my creation, no matter what objections others may bark. If anyone does laugh, let him not blame man who has done what he was able to do, whose intentions were sound; may he not instantly cauterize the fault in my writings, but if he utterly despises them, let him lay aside the war of words, rewrite what was badly done, and offer his own examples of correct writing. Furthermore, if anyone accuses me of writing obscurely, let him fear inflicting on himself the stigma of weak intellect, since I know for certain that no one trained in letters can raise a question about whatever I may have said in the following book.

In proceeding to offer a model to correct (or perhaps to corrupt) the history, I have first attempted to consider the motives and needs that brought about this expedition, as I have heard them, and then, having shown how it came about, to relate the events themselves. I learned the story, related with great veracity, from the previous author whom I follow, and from those who were present on the expedition. I have often compared the book's version of events with what was said by those who saw what happened with their own eyes, and beyond a doubt I have seen that neither testimony was discordant with the other. Whatever I have added, I have learned from eye-witnesses, or have found out for myself. If anything described is false, no clever critic may rightly accuse me of lying, I say, since he cannot argue, as God is my witness, that I have spoken out of a desire to deceive. How can it be surprising if we make errors, when we are describing things done in a foreign land, when we are clearly unable not only to express in words our own thoughts and actions, but even to collect them in the silence of our own minds? What can I say then about intentions, which are so hidden most of the time that they can scarcely be discerned by the acuity of the inner man? Therefore we should not be severely attacked if we stumble unknowingly in our words; but relentless blame should be brought to bear when falsity is willfully woven into the text, in an attempt to deceive, or out of a desire to disguise something. Furthermore, the names of men, provinces, and cities presented me with considerable difficulties; I knew some of the familiar ones were written down incorrectly by this author, and I do not doubt that in recording foreign, and therefore less known, names, errors were also made. For example, we inveigh every day against the Turks, and we call Khorasan[48] by its new name; when the old word has been forgotten and has almost disappeared, no use of ancient sources, even if they were available, has been made: I have chosen to use no word unless it were in common use. Had I used Parthians instead of Turks, as some have suggested, Caucasus and not Khorasan, in the pursuit of authenticity, I might have been misunderstood and laid myself open to the attacks of those who argue about the proper names of provinces. In particular, since I have observed that in our lands provinces have been given new names, we should assume that the same changes take place in foreign lands. For if what was once called Neustria is now called Normandy, and what was once called Austrasia is now, because of a turn of events, called Lotharingia, why should one not believe that the same thing happened in the East? As some say, Egyptian Memphis is now called Babylon. Instead of using different names, thereby becoming obscure or participating in polemics, I have preferred to make use of the common word. I was in doubt for a long time about the name of the bishop of Puy, and learned it just before finishing this work, for it was not in the text from which I was working. Please, my reader, knowing without a doubt that I certainly had no more time for writing than those moments during which I dictated the words themselves, forgive the stylistic infelicities; I did not first write on wax tablets to be corrected diligently later, by I wrote them directly on the parchment, exactly as it is, harshly barked out. I inscribed a name that lacks arrogance, and brings honor to our people: The Deeds of God through the Franks. Here ends the preface to the history which is called the Deeds of God through the Franks, written by the reverend Dom Guibert, abbot of the monastery of Saint Mary at Nogent, which is located near Coucy, in the district of Laon.—

BOOK ONE

Sometimes but not always incorrectly, certain mortals have developed the foul habit of praising previous times and attacking what modern men do. Indeed the ancients should be praised for the way in which they balanced good fortune with restraint, as well as for the way in which thoughtfulness controlled their use of energy. However, no discerning individual could prefer in any way the temporal prosperity of the ancients to any of the strengths of our own day. Although pure strength was pre-eminent among the ancients, yet among us, though the end of time has come upon us, the gifts of nature have not entirely rotted away. Things done in early times may rightly be praised because done for the first time, but far more justly are those things worth celebrating which are usefully done by uncultivated men in world slipping into old age. We admire foreign nations famous for military strength; we admire Philip for his merciless slaughter and victories everywhere, never without relentless shedding of blood. We commend with resounding rhetoric the fury of Alexander, who emerged from the Macedonian forge to destroy the entire East. We measure the magnitude of the troops of Xerxes at Thermopylae, and of Darius against Alexander, with the terrible killing of infinite numbers of nations. We wonder at Chaldean pride, Greek bitterness, the sordidness of the Egyptians, the instability of the Asiatics, as described by Trogus-Pompeius[49] and other fine writers. We judge that the early Roman institutions usefully served the common good and the spread of their power. And yet, if the essence of these things were laid bare, not only would their bravery be considered praiseworthy by wise men, but the relentless madness of fighting without good reason, only for the sake of ruling, would obviously deserve reproach. Let us look carefully, indeed let us come to our senses about the remains, I might have said dregs, of this time which we disdain, and we may find, as that foolish king said,[50] that our little finger is greater than the backs of our fathers, whom we praise excessively. If we look carefully at the wars of the pagans and the kingdoms they traveled through by great military effort, we shall conclude that none of their strength, none of their armies, by the grace of God, is comparable in any way to ours. Although we have heard that God was worshipped among the Jews, we know that Jesus Christ, as he once was among the ancients, today exists and prevails by clear proofs among the moderns. Kings, leaders, rulers and consuls, have collected vast armies from everywhere, and from among the so-called powerful of nations everywhere, have amassed hordes of people to fight. They, however, come together here out of fear of men. What shall I say of those who, without master, without a leader, compelled only by God, have traveled not only beyond the borders of their native province, beyond even their own kingdom, but through the vast number of intervening nations and languages, from the distant borders of the Britannic Ocean, to set up their tents in the center of the earth? We are speaking about the recent and incomparable victory of the expedition to Jerusalem, whose glory for those who are not totally foolish is such that our times may rejoice in a fame that no previous times have ever merited. Our men were not driven to this accomplishment by desire for empty fame, or for money, or to widen our borders—motives which drove almost all others who take up or have taken up arms. About these the poet correctly says:

Quis furor, o cives, quae tanta licentia ferri,

Gentibus invisis proprium praebere cruorem? (Lucan 1.8,9)

What madness was this, my countrymen, what fierce orgy of slaughter… to give to hated nations the spectacle of Roman bloodshed?[51]

and:

Bella geri placuit, nullos habitura triumphos.

It was decided to wage wars that could win no triumphs.[52]

If they were taking up the cause of protecting liberty or defending the republic, they would be able to offer morally acceptable excuse for fighting. Indeed, in the case of an invasion of barbarians or pagans, no knight could rightly be prevented from taking up arms. And if these conditions were not the case, then simply to protect Holy Church they waged the most legitimate war. But since this pious purpose is not in the minds of everyone, and instead the desire for material acquisitions pervades everyone's hearts, God ordained holy wars in our time, so that the knightly order and the erring mob, who, like their ancient pagan models, were engaged in mutual slaughter, might find new way of earning salvation. Thus, without having chosen (as is customary) a monastic life, without any religious committment, they were compelled to give up this world; free to continue their customary pursuits, nevertheless they earned some measure of God's grace by their own efforts. Therefore, we have seen nations, inspired by God, shut the doors of their hearts towards all kinds of needs and feelings, taking up exile beyond the Latin world, beyond the known limits of the entire world, in order to destroy the enemies of the name of Christ, with an eagerness greater than we have seen anyone show in hurrying to the the banquet table, or in celebrating a holiday.[53] The most splendid honors, the castles and towns over which they held power, meant nothing to them; the most beautiful women were treated as though they were worthless dirt; pledges of domestic love,[54] once more precious than any gem, were scorned. What no mortal could have compelled them to do by force, or persuade them to do by rhetoric, they were carried forward to do by the sudden insistence of their transformed minds. No priest in church had to urge people to this task, but one man urged another, both by speech and by example, proclaiming his determination, both at home and in the streets, to go on the expedition. Every man showed the same fervor; the chance to go on the trip appealed both to those who had little property, and to those whose vast possessions or stored-up treasures permitted them to take the richest provisions for the journey. You would have seen Solomon's words clearly put into action, "the locusts have no king, yet they march together in bands."[55] This locust made no leap of good works, as long as he lay in the frozen torpor of deep sin, but when the heat of the sun of justice shone, he leaped forward in the flight of a double (or natural)[56] movement, abandoning his paternal home and family, changing his behaviour to take on a sacred purpose. The locust had no king, because each faithful soul had no leader but God alone; certain that He is his companion in arms, he has no doubt that God goes before him. He rejoices to have undertaken the journey by the promptings of God's will, who will be his solace in tribulation. But what is it that drives a whole community unless it is that simplicity and unity which compels the hearts of so many people to desire one and the same thing? Although the call from the apostolic see was directed only to the French nation, as though it were special, what nation under Christian law did not send forth throngs to that place? In the belief that they owed the same allegiance to God as did the French, they strove strenuously, to the full extent of their powers, to share the danger with the Franks. There you would have seen the military formations of Scots, savage in their own country, but elsewhere unwarlike, their knees bare, with their shaggy cloaks, provisions hanging from their shoulders, having slipped out of their boggy borders, offering as aid and testimony to their faith and loyalty, their arms, numerically ridiculous in comparison with ours. As God is my witness I swear that I heard that some barbarian people from I don't know what land were driven to our harbor, and their language was so incomprehensible that, when it failed them, they made the sign of the cross with their fingers; by these gestures they showed what they could not indicate with words, that because of their faith they set out on the journey. But perhaps I shall treat these matters at greater length when I have more room. Now we are concerned with the state of the church of Jerusalem, or the Eastern church, as it was then.

In the time of the faithful Helen, the mother of the ruler Constantine, throughout the regions known for the traces of the Lord's sufferings, churches and priests worthy of these churches were established by this same Augusta.[57] From church history we learn that, for a long time after the death of those just mentioned, these institutions endured while the Roman Empire continued. However, the faith of Easterners, which has never been stable, but has always been variable and unsteady, searching for novelty, always exceeding the bounds of true belief, finally deserted the authority of the early fathers. Apparently, these men, because of the purity of the air and the sky in which they are born, as a result of which their bodies are lighter and their intellect consequently more agile, customarily abuse the brilliance of their intelligence with many useless commentaries. Refusing to submit to the authority of their elders or peers, "they searched out evil, and searching they succumbed."[58] Out of this came heresies and ominous kinds of different plagues. Such a baneful and inextricable labyrinth of these illnesses existed that the most desolate land anywhere could not offer worse vipers and nettles. Read through the catalogues of all heresies; consider the books of the ancients against heretics; I would be surprised if, with the exception of the East and Africa, any books about heretics could be found in the Roman world. I read somewhere that Pelagius, unless I am mistaken, was a British heretic; but I believe that no one has ever been able to compose an account of the mistaken people, or their errors. The Eastern regions were lands cursed on earth in the work of its teachers,[59] bringing forth thorns and prickly weeds for those working it. Out of Alexandria came Arius,[60] out of Persia Manes.[61] The madness of one of them tore and bloodied the mantle of holy Church, which had until then no spot or wrinkle,[62] with such persistence that the persecution of Datian[63] seemed shorter in time, and more narrowly confined in space. Not only Greece, but, afterwards, Spain, Illyria, and Africa succumbed to it. The fictions of the other, although ridiculous, nevertheless deceived the sharpest minds far and wide with its trickery. What should I say about the Eunomians, the Eutychians, the Nestorians, how can I represent the thousands of hideous groups whose frenzy against us was so relentless, and against whom victory was so difficult, that the heresies seemed to be beheaded not with swords but with sticks? If we examine the early histories of the beginnings of their kingdoms, and if we chatter about the ridiculous nature of their kings, we must wonder at the sudden overthrowing and replacing of rulers brought about by Asiatic instability. Anyone who wants to learn about their inconstancy may look at the Antiochi and Demetrii, whirling and alternating in and out of power; the man flourishing in power today may be driven tomorrow not merely from power, but from his native land, exiled by the fickleness of the peoples whom he had ruled. Their foolishness, both in secular behavior and in religious belief, has thrived until this day, so that neither in the preparation of the Eucharist, nor in the location of the Apostolic see do they have anything in common with us. But if making the sacrament out of leavened bread is defended with the apparently reasonable argument that using yeast is not harmful when it is done in good faith, and that the Lord had put an end to the old ways by eating lamb with unleavened bread, and celebrating the sacrament of his own body with the same bread, because there was no other bread, and he could not fulfill the law at that time in any other way, to them the use of unleavened bread, necessary at the time, did not seem a central part of the mystery, just as the dipping of the mouthful[64] was an indication not of the carrying out of the sacrament but of Judas' betrayal. If, I say, these things and others also can be proposed as either true or false, then what will they say about the Holy Spirit, those who impiously argue, in accordance with the vestiges of the Arian heresy, that He is less than the Father and the Son, and who disagree, both in thought and in many of their actions, with the ancient laws of the fathers, and with the holy ritual of the Western Church, they have added this increment to their damnation: they claim that God limps, having inflicted upon him an inequality of his own nature. For if one is baptized according to the teaching of the Son of God, "in the name of the Son and the Holy Spirit," it is for this reason, that the three are one God; arguing that any of the three is less than the other is to argue that he is not God. Therefore the herd of such bulls among the cows of the people now shuts out those who have proved themselves worth their weight in silver, since some of our countrymen, stirred by the debate with the Greeks, have published splendid books on the office of the Holy Spirit. However, since God places stumbling-block before those who sin voluntarily, their land has spewed forth its own inhabitants, since they were first deprived of the awareness of true belief, and rightly and justly they have been dispossessed of all earthly possessions. For since they fell away from faith in the Trinity, like those who fall in the mud and get muddier, little by little they have come to the final degradation of having taken paganism upon themselves; as the punishment for their sin proceeded, foreigners attacked them, and they lost the soil of their native land. Even those who managed to remain in their native land must pay tribute to foreigners. The most splendidly noble cities, Antioch, Jerusalem, and Nicea,[65] and the provinces, Syria, Palestine, and Greece, the seed-beds of the new grace, have lost their internal strength at the roots, while the aborted[66] Italians, French, and English, have flourished. I am silent about the fact that so many abuses have become customary in those worthless churches, that in many of these regions no one is made a priest unless he has chosen a wife, so that the apostle's statement that a man who is to be chosen should have only one wife be observed. That this statement does not concern a man who has and uses a wife, but does concern man who had a wife and sent her away, is confirmed by the authority of the Western church. I am also silent about the fact that, against Latin custom, people of the Christian faith, regardless of whether they are men or women, are bought and sold like brute animals. To add to the cruelty, they are sent far from their native country to be sold as slaves to pagans. Finally, worse than all these, it appears that imperial law among them generally sanctions young girls (a freedom permitted everywhere as though to be just) being taken to become prostitutes. An example: if a man has three or four daughters, one of them is put in a house of prostitution; some part of the smelly lucre derived from the suffering of these unhappy women goes to the wretched emperor's treasury, while part goes to support the woman who earned it in such a base way. Hear how the clamor ascends mightily to the ears of the Lord of Hosts.[67] Moreover, the priests who are in charge of celebrating the divine sacraments prepare the Lord's body after they have eaten, as I have heard, and offer it to be eaten by anyone who is fasting. While they wander in these and similar paths of evil, and while they "follow their own devices,"[68] God has set up over them a new law-giver, "so that the people may know that they are mortal."[69] And since they, more wanton than the beasts of the field, have knowingly transgressed the limits set by their fathers, they have become objects of opprobrium. But just let me tell something about the authority upon which the nations of the East rely when they decide to abandon the Christian religion to return to paganism.

According to popular opinion, there was a man, whose name, if I have it right, was Mathomus, who led them away from belief in the Son and in the Holy Spirit. He taught them to acknowledge only the person of the Father as the single, creating God, and he said that Jesus was entirely human. To sum up his teachings, having decreed circumcision, he gave them free rein for every kind of shameful behavior. I do not think that this profane man lived a very long time ago, since I find that none of the church doctors has written against his licentiousness. Since I have learned nothing about his behavior and life from writings, no one should be surprised if I am willing to tell what I have heard told in public by some skillful speakers. To discuss whether these things are true or false is useless, since we are considering here only the nature of this new teacher, whose reputation for great crimes continues to spread. One may safely speak ill of a man whose malignity transcends and surpasses whatever evil can be said of him.

An Alexandrian patriarch died, I'm not sure when, and the leaderless church was divided, as usual, into various factions; the more eagerly each argued for the person whom he favored, the more strongly he argued against the person whom he opposed. The choice of the majority was a hermit who lived nearby. Some of the more discerning men often visited him, to find out what he was really like, and from these conversations they discovered that he disagreed with them about the Catholic faith. When they found this out, they immediately abandoned the choice they had made, and, with the greatest regret, set about condemning it. Scorned, torn apart by bitter grief, since he had been unable to reach what he had striven for, like Arius, he began to think carefully how to take vengeance by spreading the poison of false belief, to undermine Catholic teaching everywhere. Such men, whose whole aim in life is to be praised, are mortally wounded, and bellow unbearably, whenever they feel that their standing in the community is diminished in any way. Seeing his opportunity with the hermit, the Ancient Enemy approached the wretch with these words, "If," he said, "you want certain solace for having been rejected, and you want power far greater than that of a patriarch, look very carefully at that young man who was with those who came to you lately—I shall recollect for you his clothing, his face, his physical appearance, his name—fill his vigorous, receptive mind with the teaching that lies near to your heart. Pursue this man, who will listen faithfully to your teachings and propagate them far and wide." Encouraged by the utterance, the hermit searched among the groups that visited him for the identifying signs of the young man. Recognizing him, he greeted him affectionately, then imbued him with the poison with which he himself was rotting. And because he was a poor man, and a poor man has less authority than a rich one, he proceeded to procure wealth for himself by this method: a certain very rich woman had recently become a widow; the filthy hermit sent a messenger to bring her to him, and he advised her to marry again. When she told him that there was no one appropriate for her to marry, he said that he had found for her a prophet who was appropriate, and that, if she consented to marry him, she would live in perfect happiness. He persisted steadily in his blandishments, promising that the prophet would provide for her both in this life and in the next, and he kindled her feminine emotions to love a man she did not know. Seduced, then, by the hope of knowing everything that was and everything that might be, she was married to her seer, and the formerly wretched Mahomet, surrounded by brilliant riches, was lifted, perhaps to his own great stupefaction, to unhoped-for power. And since the vessel of a single bed frequently received their sexual exchanges, the famous prophet contracted the disease of epilepsy, which we call, in ordinary language, falling sickness; he often suffered terribly while the terrified prophetess watched his eyes turning upward, his face twisting, his lips foaming, his teeth grinding. Frightened by this unexpected turn of events, she hurried to the hermit, accusing him of the misfortune which was happening to her. Disturbed and bitter in her heart, she said that she would prefer to die rather than to endure an execrable marriage to a madman. She attacked the hermit with countless kinds of complaints about the bad advice he had given her. But he, who was supplied with incomparable cleverness, said, "you are foolish for ascribing harm to what is a source of light and glory. Don't you know, blind woman, that whenever God glides into the minds of the prophets, the whole bodily frame is shaken, because the weakness of the flesh can scarcely bear the visitation of divine majesty? Pull yourself together, now, and do not be afraid of these unusual visions; look upon the blessed convulsions of the holy man with gratitude, especially since spiritual power teaches him at those moments about the things it will help you to know and to do in the future." Her womanly flightiness was taken in by these words, and what she had formerly thought foul and despicable now seemed to her not only tolerable, but sacred and remrkable. Meanwhile the man was being filled with profane teaching drawn by the devil's piping through the heretical hermit. When the hermit, like a herald, went everywhere before him, Mahomet was believed by everyone to be a prophet. When far and wide, in the opinion of everyone, his growing reputation shone, and he saw that people in the surrounding as well as in distant lands were inclining towards his teachings, after consulting with his teacher, he wrote a law, in which he loosened the reins of every vice for his followers, in order to attract more of them. By doing this he gathered a huge mob of people, and the better to deceive their uncertain minds with the pretext of religion, he ordered them to fast for three days, and to offer earnest prayers for God to grant a law. He also gives them a sign, because, should it please God to give them law, he will grant it in an unusual manner, from an unexpected hand. Meanwhile, he had a cow, whom he himself had trained to follow him, so that whenever she heard his voice or saw him, almost no force could prevent her from rushing to him with unbearable eagerness. He tied the book he had written to the horns of the animal, and hid her in the tent in which he himself lived. On the third day he climbed a high platform above all the people he had called together, and began to declaim to the people in a booming voice. When, as I just said, the sound of his words reached the cow's ears, she immediately ran from the tent, which was nearby, and, with the book fastened on her horns, made her way eagerly through the middle of the assembled people to the feet of the speaker, as though to congratulate him. Everyone was amazed, and the book was quickly removed and read to the breathless people, who happily accepted the licence permitted by its foul law. What more? The miracle of the offered book was greeted with applause over and over again. As though sent from the sky, the new license for random copulation was propagated everywhere, and the more the supply of permitted filth increased, the more the grace of a God who permitted more lenient times, without any mention of turpitude, was preached. All of Christian morality was condemned by a thousand reproofs, and whatever examples of goodness and strength the Gospel offered were called cruel and harsh. But what the cow had delivered was considered universal liberty, the only one recommended by God. Neither the antiquity of Moses nor the more recent Catholic teachings had any authority. Everything which had existed before the law, under the law, under grace, was marked as implacably wrong. If I may make inappropriate use of what the Psalmist sings, "God did not treat other nations in this fashion, and he never showed his judgements to any other people."[70] The greater opportunity to fulfil lust, and, going beyond the appetites of beasts, by resorting to multiple whores, was cloaked by the excuse of procreating children. However, while the flow of nature was unrestrained in these normal acts, at the same time they engaged in abnormal acts, which we should not even name, and which were unknown even to the animals. At the time, the obscurity of this nefarious sect first covered the name of Christ, but now it has wiped out his name from the furthest corners of the entire East, from Africa, Egypt, Ethiopia, Libya, and even the more remote coasts of Spain—a country near us. But now to describe how this marvelous law-giver made his exit from our midst. Since he often fell into sudden epileptic fit, with which we have already said he struggled, it happened once, while he was walking alone, that a fit came upon him and he fell down on the spot; while he was writhing in this agony, he was found by some pigs, who proceeded to devour him, so that nothing could be found of him except his heels. While the true Stoics, that is, the worshipers of Christ, killed Epicurus, lo, the greatest law-giver tried to revive the pig, in fact he did revive it, and, himself a pig, lay exposed to be eaten by pigs, so that the master of filth appropriately died a filthy death. He left his heels fittingly, since he had wretchedly fixed the traces of false belief and foulness in wretchedly deceived souls. We shall make an epitaph for his heels in four lines of the poet:

Aere perennius,

Regalique situ pyramidum altius:

(I have built a monument) more lasting than brass, taller that the royal site of the Pyramids…

So that the fine man, happier than any pig, might say with the poet:

Non omnis moriar, multaque pars mei

Vitabit Libitiam.

I shall not die entirely, a great part of me shall avoid Hell.

That is:

Manditur ore suum, qui porcum vixerat, hujus

Membra beata cluunt, podice fusa suum.

Quum talos ori, tum quod sus fudit odori,

Digno qui celebrat cultor honore ferat.

He who has lived by the pig is chewed to death by the pig and the limbs which were called blessed have become pigs' excrement. May those who wish to honor him carry to their mouths his heels, which the pig has poured forth in stench.

What if there is some truth in what the Manicheans say about purification, that in every food something of God is present and that part of God is purified by chewing and digesting, and the purified part is turned into angels, who are said to depart from us in belching and flatulence: how many angels may be believe were produced by the flesh eaten by these pigs and by the great farts they let go? But, laying aside the comic remarks intended to mock his followers, my point is that they did not think that he was God, but a just man and leader, through whom divine laws might be transmitted. They imagined that he had been taken up into heaven, with only his heels left as a monument for his faithful adherents, who visit them with great veneration, and condemn eating pork, because pigs consumed their lord with their bites.

After the pagan heresy had grown strong over a long time, and for many generations, the people whom we have mentioned above invaded Palestine, Jerusalem, and the Holy Sepulchre, and captured Armenia, Syria, and the part of Greece that extends almost to the sea which is called the Arm of Saint George. Among all the Eastern kingdoms, the Babylonian empire was from ancient times the most powerful, and ruled over many kingdoms. However, the kingdom of the Parthians, whom we, because of changes in the language, call the Turks, is pre-eminent in military matters, in horsemanship, and in courage, although it is a very small country. And so the Babylonian emperor occupied the areas we just mentioned with a large army, but in the course of time he lost them, as the Turks grew in number, and the Assyrians were defeated. More energetic, and in command of an astute boldness, they were attacking the empire of Constantinople and seemed about to besiege the city, when the emperor of the Greeks, frightened by their frequent and relentless incursions, sent a letter to France, written to the elder Robert, count of Flanders,[71] offering him reasons that might urge him to defend endangered Greece. He did not approach him because he thought that Robert, although extremely wealthy, and capable of raising a large force, could alone supply enough troops for the task, but because he realized that if a man of such power went on such a journey, he would attract many of our people, if only for the sake of a new experience, to support him. This count was truly as wise in military matters as he was perspicacious and discriminating in literary matters. He had once before gone to Jerusalem, for the sake of prayer, and, happening to pass through Constantinople on the way, had spoken with the emperor; as result, on the basis of the great feeling of trust he had developed for him, the emperor was impelled to call upon him for aid. Since inserting the letter itself in this little work would produce a tedious effect, I have preferred to offer some of what was said, but clothed in my own words.

He complained that, "after Christianity was driven out, the churches which the pagans held had been turned into stables for horses, mules, and other animals. It was also true that they had set up in them temples, which they called Mahomeries, and they carried out all kinds of filthy activity in them, so that they had become not cathedrals, but brothels and theaters. Moreover, there would be no purpose to my mentioning the slaughter of Catholics, since the faithful who died received in exchange eternal life, while those who survived led lives wretchedly bound by the yoke of slavery, harsher, I believe, than what those who died endured. They took virgins and made them public prostitutes, since they were never deterred by shame or feeling for marital fidelity. Mothers were violated in the presence of their daughters, raped over and over again by different men, while their daughters were compelled, not only to watch, but to sing obscene songs and to dance. Then they changed places, and the suffering, which is painful and shameful to speak of, was inflicted upon the daughters, while the filthy activity was adorned by the obscene songs of the unfortunate mothers. Finally reverence for all that was called Christian was handed over to the brothel. When the female sex was not spared (an action which might be excused since it is at least in accord with nature), they became worse than animals, breaking all human laws by turning on men. Their lust overflowed to the point that the execrable and profoundly intolerable crime of sodomy, which they committed against men of middle or low station, they also committed against a certain bishop, killing him. How can this urgent lust, worse than any insanity anywhere, which perpetually flees wisdom and modesty, and is enkindled more powerfully the more it is quenched, control itself among human beings, whom it befouls with couplings unheard of among beasts, actions to which Christians may not give name. And although, according to their own judgment, these wretches may have many women, that is not enough, but they must stain their dignity at the hog-trough of such filth by using men also. It is not surprising that God could not tolerate their ripe wantoness, and turned it into grief, and the earth, in its ancient way, cast out the excrement of such destructive inhabitants." Therefore, after he had expressed his great fears about the siege of Constantinople, which would follow the crossing of the Arm of Saint George by his enemies, he added, among other remarks, the following: "This great city is most deserving of every kind of help if for no other reason than to prevent the six apostles whose bodies are buried here from being burned by unbelievers, or buried in the swirling sea." And certainly nothing is more true. For that city, not only superior for its monuments of the saints, but also famed for the merit and renown of its founder, and particularly for the divine revelation which transformed it from a very old little town into a miraculous city and a second Rome, is worth of having the whole world come together to help it, if that were possible. Then, after speaking of the apostles, the emperor said that they had the head of John the Baptist, which (although it was not true) seemed to be covered with hair and skin, as though alive today. Now if this were true, one would have to investigate the head of John the Baptist that is glorified by the monks at Angers. Now we are certain that two John the Baptists did not exist, nor did the one man have two heads, which would be impious to say. In this matter, one should consider the frequent but not deadly error, which particularly assails the churches of France, regarding the bodies of saints: two different places claim to have the same martyr or confessor, but a single entity cannot occupy two spaces simultaneously. This mistaken contention arises from the fact that saints are not permitted to enjoy the peace of the permanent burial they deserve. And I do not doubt that their bodies are covered with silver and gold out of motives lower than piety; open and extremely foul avarice drives them to collect money by displaying bones and dragging around wagons. These things would stop if, as in the case of the Lord Jesus, their limbs were shut up in locked tombs.

However, setting these things aside, let us go on. The emperor added that if neither the prevention of such evil, nor the love of the aforementioned saints inspired them to perform this task, then at least greed for gold and silver, of which there was a plentiful supply in his region, might entice them. Finally he offered an argument that has no power over men with self-control, saying that they would be drawn by the pleasure of seeing the most beautiful women, as though the beauty of Greek women were so great that they would be preferred to the women of Gaul, and for this reason alone, the Frankish army would march to Thrace. While this foul tyrant was offering this argument, he should have kept in mind that for this very reason the most powerful adversity had descended upon him and his people; in well-known proclamation, he had issued an order throughout the land that families with several daughters give one of them up to prostitution, and place in his own treasury money gained from the disgusting experience. In addition, he had issued another edict, ordering families with several sons to have one castrated, thus rendering their bodies, deprived of virility, weak and effeminate, no longer fit for military service. Even worse, they were cut off from producing progeny for the future, who might have been looked for as aid against their enemies. Therefore he who had brought destruction upon himself was now compelled to seek help from foreigners. In addition, one should note that this emperor had received the purple not by legitimate succession, but because he had been one of the officers of the palace, under the ruler whose name, unless I am mistaken, was Michael, who had put him in charge of the larger group of Western soldiers, whose natural probity made them the best of the emperor's men, and the emperor's bodyguard. Gathering boldness from the men he commanded, he undertook a coup against his own prince. Invading the city of Constantinople, he captured his ruler, cruelly deprived him of his eyes, and placed him under close guard in a certain town. Then he usurped imperial power entirely without legal right. Compelled by necessity, as we said above, he sought the Franks. But after he saw such remarkable leaders assembled, distinguished both for their impeccable conduct and military ability, he envied the size of the forces, but envied their wisdom even more. When they successfully completed what they had set out to do, his envy of the ability of our men grew even greater; after the victory at Jerusalem, the emperor feared that they might turn their victorious arms against him, especially since they had learned that, among the nations in that area, he was their most powerful rival. We also heard, however, before the beginning of the journey had been announced, that the emperor's mother, a sorceress, had predicted that a man of Frankish origin would take his empire and his life from him. Judging by events, Bohemund tried to fulfill this oracle, attacking the emperor with such force, and compelling him so often to flee from battle, that a large part of the provinces fell into his hands. Since his family was from Normandy, a part of France, and since he had obtained the hand of the daughter of the king of the Franks, he might be very well be considered a Frank.

HERE ENDS THE FIRST BOOK OF THE DEEDS OF GOD AS PERFORMED BY THE FRENCH.

BOOK TWO

Pope Urban, whose name was Odo before becoming Pope, was descended from a noble French family[73] from the area and parish of Rheims, and they say, unless the report is in error, that he was the first French Pope. A cleric, he was made a monk of Cluny, after the abbot of glorious memory who aided Hugo;[74] not long afterwards he was made prior, and then, because of his abilities, he was appointed bishop of the city of Ostia, by order of Pope Gregory VII; finally, he was elected supreme pontiff of the Apostolic See. His greatness of spirit was made manifest when he urged that the journey be undertaken, because when he first showed how it was to be done the whole world was astonished. His death, resplendent in miracles, attests to the state of his mind. According to what the bishop who succeeded him at Osti wrote,[75] many signs were seen after he was dead and buried; a certain young man stood at his tomb, and swore by his own limbs that no sign had ever been given or might be given by the merit of Urban, who was called Odo. Before he could move a step, he was struck dumb, and paralyzed on one side; he died the next day, offering testimony to the power of Urban. This great man, although honored with great gifts, and even with prayers, by Alexius, prince of the Greeks, was driven much more by the danger to all of Christendom, which was diminished daily by pagan incursions (for he heard that Spain was steadily being torn apart by Saracen invasions), decided to make a journey to France, to recruit the people of his country. It was, to be sure, the ancient custom for pontiffs of the apostolic see, if they had been harmed by neighboring people, always to seek help from the French: the Pontiffs Stephen and Zacharias, in the time of Pepin and Charles,[76] took refuge with them; Pepin made an expedition to Ticinum to restore to the church its patrimony, and to place Stephen back on his throne.[77] Charles compelled king Desiderius,[78] by the mere threat of combat, to return what he had seized by force. More respectful and humble than other nations toward blessed Peter and pontifical decrees, the French, unlike other peoples, have been unwilling to behave insolently against God. For many years we have seen the Germans, particularly the entire kingdom of Lotharingia, struggling with barbaric obstinacy against the commands of Saint Peter and of his pontiffs.[79] In their striving, they prefer to remain under a daily, or even eternal excommunication rather than submit. Last year while I was arguing with a certain archdeacon of Mainz about a rebellion of his people, I heard him vilify our king and our people, merely because the king had given a gracious welcome everywhere in his kingdom to his Highness Pope Paschal and his princes; he called them not merely Franks, but, derisively, "Francones."[80] I said to him, "If you think them so weak and languid that you can denigrate a name known and admired as far away as the Indian Ocean, then tell me upon whom did Pope Urban call for aid against the Turks? Wasn't it the French? Had they not been present, attacking the barbarians everywhere, pouring their sturdy energy and fearless strength into the battle, there would have been no help for your Germans, whose reputation there amounted to nothing." That is what I said to him. I say truly, and everyone should believe it, that God reserved this nation for such a great task. For we know certainly that, from the time that they received the sign of faith that blessed Remigius brought to them until the present time, they succumbed to none of the diseases of false faith from which other nations have remained uncontaminated either with great difficulty or not at all. They are the ones who, while still laboring under the pagan error, when they triumphed on the battlefield over the Gauls, who were Christians, did not punish or kill any of them, because they believed in Christ. Instead, those whom Roman severity had punished with sword and fire, native French generosity encased in gold and silver, covered with gems and amber. They strove to welcome with honor not only those who lived within their own borders, but they also affectionately cared for people who came from Spain, Italy, or anywhere else, so that love for the martyrs and confessors, whom they constantly served and honored, made them famous, finally driving them to the glorious victory at Jerusalem. Because it has carried the yoke since the days of its youth, it will sit in isolation,[81] a nation noble, wise, war-like, generous, brilliant above all kinds of nations. Every nation borrows the name as an honorific title; do we not see the Bretons, the English, the Ligurians call men "Frank" if they behave well? But now let us return to the subject.

When the Pope crossed our borders, he was greeted with such great joy by crowds in the cities, towns, and villages, because no one alive could remember when the bishop of the apostolic see had come to these lands. The year of the incarnate Word 1097 was hastening to its end, [82] when the bishop hastily convoked a council, choosing a city in Auvergne, famous for the most learned of all bishops, Sidonius, although its name has now been changed to Clermont. The council was even more crowded because of the great desire to see the face and to hear the words of such an excellent, rarely seen person. In addition to the multitudes of bishops and abbots, whom some, by counting their staves, estimated at approximately 400, learned men from all of France and the dependent territories flowed to that place. One could see there how he presided over them with serene gravity, with a dignified presence, and, if I may use the words of Sidonius, with what peppery eloquence[83] the most learned Pope answered whatever objections were raised. It was noted with what gentleness the most brilliant man listened gently to the most vehemently argued speeches, and how little he valued the social position of people, judging them only by God's laws.

Then Philip, king of the French, who was in the thirty-seventh year of his reign, having put aside his own wife, whose name was Berta, and having carried off Bertrada, the wife of the count of Anjou, was excommunicated by the Pope, who spurned both the attempts by important people to intercede for the king, and the offers of innumerable gifts. Nor was he afraid that he was now within the borders of the kingdom of France. In this council, just as he had planned before leaving Rome and seeking out the French for this reason, he gave a fine speech to those who were in attendance. Among other things, which were said to exceed the memories of the listeners, he spoke about this project. His eloquence was reinforced by his literary knowledge; the richness of his speech in Latin seemed no less than that of any lawyer nimble in his native language. Nor did the crowd of disputants blunt the skill of the speaker. Surrounded by praiseworthy teachers, apparently buried by clouds of cases being pressed upon him, he was judged to have overcome, by his own literary brilliance, the flood of oratory and to have overwhelmed the cleverness of every speech. Therefore his meaning, and not his exact words, follow: "If, among the churches scattered through the whole world, some deserve more reverence than others because they are associated with certain people and places, then, because of certain persons, I say, greater privileges are granted to apostolic sees; in the case of places, some privilege is granted to royal cities, as is the case with the city of Constantinople. We are grateful for having received from this most powerful church the grace of redemption and the origin of all Christianity. If what was said by the Lord remains true, namely that "salvation is from the Jews," and it remains true that the Lord of the Sabbath has left his seed for us, lest we become like those of Sodom and Gomorrha, and that Christ is our seed, in whom lies salvation and blessing for all people, then the earth and the city in which he lived and suffered is called holy by the testimony of Scripture. If this land is the inheritance of God, and his holy temple, even before the Lord walked and suffered there, as the sacred and prophetic pages tell us, then what additional sanctity and reverence did it gain then, when the God of majesty took flesh upon Himself there, was fed, grew up, and moving in his bodily strength walked here and there in the land? To abbreviate a matter that could be spun out at much greater length, this is the place where the blood of the Son of God, holier than heaven and earth, was spilled, where the body, at whose death the elements trembled, rested in its tomb. What sort of veneration might we think it deserves? If, soon after our Lord's death, while the city was still in the possession of the Jews, the Evangelist called it sacred, when he said, "Many bodies of the saints that have been asleep here have awoken, and come to the holy city, and they been seen by many."[84], and it was said by the prophet Isaiah, "His tomb will be glorious,"[85], since this very sanctity, once granted by God the sanctifier himself, cannot be overcome by any evil whatsoever, and the glory of his tomb in the same way remains undiminished, then, O my dearly beloved brothers, you must exert yourselves, with all your strength, and with God leading you and fighting for you, to cleanse the holiness of the city and the glory of the tomb, which has been polluted by the thick crowd of pagans, if you truly aspire to the author of that holiness and glory, and if you love the traces that he has left on earth. If the Maccabees once deserved the highest praise for piety because they fought for their rituals and their temple, then you too, O soldiers of Christ, deserve such praise, for taking up arms to defend the freedom of your country. If you think you must seek with such effort the thresholds of the apostles and of others, then why do you hesitate to go see and to snatch up the cross, the blood, and to devote your precious souls to rescuing them? Until now you have waged wrongful wars, often hurling insane spears at each other, driven only by greed and pride, for which you have deserved only eternal death and damnation. Now we propose for you battles which offer the gift of glorious martyrdom, for which you will earn present and future praise. If Christ had not died and been buried in Jerusalem, had not lived there at all, if all these things had not taken place, surely this fact alone should be enough to drive you to come to the aid of the land and the city: that the law came from Zion and the word of God from Jerusalem. If all Christian preaching flows from the fountain of Jerusalem, then let the rivulets, wherever they flow over the face of the earth, flow into the hearts of the Catholic multitude, so that they may heed of what they owe to this overflowing fountain. If "rivers return to the place whence they flow, so that they may continue to flow,"[86] according to the saying of Solomon, it should seem glorious to you if you are able to purify the place whence you received the cleansing of baptism and the proof of faith. And you should also consider with the utmost care whether God is working through your efforts to restore the church that is the mother of churches; he might wish to restore the faith in some of the eastern lands, in spite of the nearness of the time of the Antichrist. For it is clear that the Antichrist makes war neither against Jews, nor against pagans, but, according to the etymology of his name, he will move against Christians. And if the Antichrist comes upon no Christian there, as today there is scarcely any, there will be no one to resist him, or any whom he might justly move among. According to Daniel and Jerome his interpreter, his tent will be fixed on the Mount of Olives, and he will certainly take his seat, as the Apostle teaches, in Jerusalem, "in the temple of God, as though he were God, "[87] and, according to the prophet, he will undoubtedly kill three kings pre-eminent for their faith in Christ, that is, the kings of Egypt, of Africa, and of Ethiopia. This cannot happen at all, unless Christianity is established where paganism now rules. Therefore if you are eager to carry out pious battles, and since you have accepted the seedbed of the knowledge of God from Jerusalem, then you may restore the grace that was borrowed there. Thus through you the name of Catholicism will be propagated, and it will defeat the perfidy of the Antichrist and of the Antichristians. Who can doubt that God, who surpasses every hope by means of his overflowing strength, may so destroy the reeds of paganism with your spark that he may gather Egypt, Africa and Ethiopia, which no longer share our belief, into the rules of his law, and "sinful man, the son of perdition,"[88] will find others resisting him? See how the Gospel cries out that "Jerusalem will be trodden down by the Gentiles, until the time of the nations will be fulfilled."[89]"The time of nations" may be understood in two ways: either that they ruled at will over the Christians, and for their own pleasures have wallowed in the troughs of every kind of filth, and in all of these things have found no obstruction (for "to have one's time" means that everything goes according to one's wishes, as in "My time has not yet come, but your time is always ready,"[90] and one customarily says to voluptuaries, "You have your time;") or else the "time of nations" means the multitudes of nations who, before Israel is saved, will join the faith. These times, dearest brothers, perhaps will now be fulfilled, when, with the aid of God, the power of the pagans will be pushed back by you, and, with the end of the world already near, even if the nations do not turn to the Lord, because, as the Apostle says, "there must be a falling away from faith."[91] Nevertheless, first, according to the prophecies, it is necessary, before the coming of the Antichrist in those parts, either through you or through whomever God wills, that the empire of Christianity be renewed, so that the leader of all evil, who will have his throne there, may find some nourishment of faith against which he may fight. Consider, then, that Almighty providence may have destined you for the task of rescuing Jerusalem from such abasement. I ask you to think how your hearts can conceive of the joy of seeing the holy city revived by your efforts, and the oracles, the divine prophecies fulfilled in our own times. Remember that the voice of the Lord himself said to the church, "I shall lead your seed from the East, and I shall gather you from the West."[92] The Lord has led our seed from the East, in that he brought forth for us in double manner[93] out of the Eastern land the early progeny of the Church. But out of the West he assembled us, for through those who last began the proof of faith, that is the Westerners, (we think that, God willing, this will come about through your deeds), Jerusalem's losses will be restored. If the words of Scripture and our own admonitions do not move your souls, then at least let the great suffering of those who wish to visit the holy places touch you. Think of the pilgrims who travel the Mediterranean; if they are wealthy, to what tributes, to what violence are they subjected; at almost every mile they are compelled to pay taxes and tributes; at the gates of the city, at the entrances of churches and temples, they must pay ransoms. Each time they move from one place to another they are faced with another charge, compelled to pay ransom, and the governors of the Gentiles commonly coerce with blows those who are slow to give gifts. What shall we say about those who have taken up the journey, trusting in their naked poverty, who seem to have nothing more than their bodies to lose? The money that they did not have was forced from them by intolerable tortures; the skin of their bones was probed, cut, and stripped, in search of anything that they might have sewed within. The brutality of these evil-doers was so great that, suspecting that the wretches had swallowed gold and silver, they gave them purgatives to drink, so that they would either vomit or burst their insides. Even more unspeakable, they cut their bellies open with swords, opening their inner organs, revealing with a hideous slashing whatever nature holds secret. Remember, I beg you, the thousands who died deplorably, and, for the sake of the holy places, whence the beginnings of piety came to you, take action. Have unshakable faith that Christ will be the standard-bearer and inseparable advance guard before you who are sent to His wars."

The superb man delivered this speech, and by the power of the blessed Peter absolved everyone who vowed to go, confirming this with an apostolic benediction, and establishing a sign of this honorable promise. He ordered that something like a soldier's belt, or rather that for those about to fight for the Lord, something bearing the sign of the Lord's passion, the figure of a Cross, be sewn onto the tunics and cloaks of those who were going. If anyone, after accepting this symbol, and after having made the public promise, then went back on his good intentions, either out of weak regretfulness, or out of domestic affection, such a person, according to the Pope's decree, would be considered everywhere an outlaw, unless he came to his senses and fulfilled the obligation which he had foully laid aside. He also cursed with a horrible anathema all those who might dare to harm the wives, sons, and possessions of those who took up God's journey for all of the next three years.

Finally, he entrusted the leadership of the expedition to the most praiseworthy of men, the bishop of the city of Puy (whose name, I regret, I have never discovered or heard). He granted him the power to teach the Christian people as his representative, wherever they went, and therefore, in the manner of the apostles, he laid hands upon him and gave him his blessing as well. How wisely he carried out his commission the results of this wonderful effort demonstrate.

And so, when the council held at Clermont at the octave of blessed Martin in the month of November was over, the great news spread through all parts of France, and whoever heard the news of the Pontiff's decree urged his neighbors and family to undertake the proposed "path of God" (for this was it epithet). The courtly nobility were already burning with desire, and the middle-level knights were bursting to set out, when lo the poor also were aflame with desire, without any consideration for the scarcity of their resources, and without worrying about suitably disposing of their homes, vineyards, and fields. Instead, each sold his assets at a price much lower than he would have received if he had been shut up in a painful prison and needed to pay an immediate ransom. At this time there was a general famine, with great poverty even among the very wealthy, since when even though there were enough things, here and there, for sale for some people, they had nothing or scarcely anything with which those things could be bought. Masses of poor people learned to feed often on the roots of wild plants, since they were compelled by the scarcity of bread to search everywhere for some possible substitute. The misery that everyone was crying out about was clearly threatening to the powerful people as they watched, and, while each man, considering the anguish of the starving mob to be of little importance, became fastidiously parsimonious, fearing that he might squander the wealth for which he had worked hard by spending money too easily. The thirsty hearts of the avaricious, who rejoiced that the times smiled upon their brutal rates of interest, thought of the bushels of grain they had stored through the fertile years, and calculated how much their sale would add to their accumulating mountains of money. Thus, while some suffer terribly, and others swiftly go about their business, Christ, "breaking the ships of Tarshish with a powerful wind,"[94] resounded in everyone's ears, and he "who freed those who were in adamantine chains" broke[95] the shackles of those desperate men whose hearts were ensnared by greed. Although, as I just said, hard times reduced everyone's wealth, nevertheless, when the hard times provoked everyone to spontaneous exile, the wealth of many men came out into the open, and what had seemed expensive when no one was moved, was sold at a cheap price, now that everyone one was eager for the journey. As many men were rushing to depart (I shall illustrate the sudden and unexpected drop in prices with one example of those things that were sold), seven sheep brought an unheard-of price of five cents. The lack of grain became surfeit, and each tried to get whatever money he could scrape together by any means; each seemed to be offering whatever he had, not at the seller's, but at the buyer's price, lest he be late in setting out on the path of God. It was a miraculous sight: everyone bought high and sold low; whatever could be used on the journey was expensive, since they were in a hurry; they sold cheaply whatever items of value they had piled up; what neither prison nor torture could have wrung from them just a short time before they now sold for a few paltry coins. Nor is it less absurd that many of those who had no desire to go, who laughed one day at the frantic selling done by the others, declaring that they were going on a miserable journey, and would return even more miserable, were suddenly caught up the next day, and abandoned all their good for a few small coins, and set out with those at whom they had laughed.

Who can tell of the boys, the old men, who were stirred to go to war? Who can count the virgins and the weak, trembling old men? Everyone sang of battle, but did not say that they would fight. Offering their necks to the sword, they promised martyrdom. "You young men," they said, "will draw swords with your hands, but may we be permitted to earn this by supporting Christ."[96]

Indeed they seemed to have a desire to emulate God, "but not according to knowledge,"[97] but God, who customarily turns many vain undertakings to a pious end, prepared salvation for their simple souls, because of their good intentions. There you would have seen remarkable, even comical things; poor people, for example, tied their cattle to two-wheel carts, armed as though they were horses, carrying their few possessions, together with their small children, in the wagon. The little children, whenever they came upon a castle or a city, asked whether this was the Jerusalem to which they were going.

At that time, before people set out on the journey, there was a great disturbance, with fierce fighting, throughout the entire kingdom of the Franks. Everywhere people spoke of rampant thievery, highway robbery; endless fires burned everywhere. Battles broke out for no discernible reason, except uncontrollable greed. To sum up briefly, whatever met the eye of greedy men, no matter to whom it belonged, instantly became their prey. Therefore the change of heart they soon underwent was remarkable and scarcely believable because of the heedless state of their souls, as they all begged the bishops and priests to give the sign prescribed by the above-mentioned Pope, that is, the crosses. As the force of powerful winds can be restrained by the gentle rain, so all of the feuds of each against the other were put to rest by the aspiration imbedded undoubtedly by Christ Himself.

While the leaders, who needed to spend large sums of money for their great retinues, were preparing like careful administrators, the common people, poor in resources but copious in number, attached themselves to a certain Peter the Hermit, and they obeyed him as though he were the leader, as long as the matter remained within our own borders. If I am not mistaken, he was born in Amiens, and, it is said, led a solitary life in the habit of a monk in I do not know what part of upper Gaul, then moved on, I don't know why, and we saw him wander through cities and towns, spreading his teaching, surrounded by so many people, given so many gifts, and acclaimed for such great piety, that I don't ever remember anyone equally honored. He was very generous to the poor with the gifts he was given, making prostitutes morally acceptable for husbands, together with generous gifts, and, with remarkable authority, restoring peace and treaties where there had been discord before. Whatever he did or said seemed like something almost divine. Even the hairs of his mule were torn out as though they were relics, which we report not as truth, but as a novelty loved by the common people. Outdoors he wore a woolen tunic, which reached to his ankles, and above it a hood; he wore a cloak to cover his upper body, and a bit of his arms, but his feet were bare. He drank wine and ate fish, but scarcely ever ate bread. This man, partly because of his reputation, partly because of his preaching, had assembled a very large army, and decided to set out through the land of the Hungarians. The restless common people discovered that this area produced unusually abundant food, and they went wild with excess in response to the gentleness of the inhabitants. When they saw the grain that had been piled up for several years, as is the custom in that land, like towers in the fields, which we are accustomed to call "metas"[98] in every-day language, and although supplies of various meats and other foods were abundant in this land, not content with the natives' decency, in a kind of remarkable madness, these intruders began to crush them. While the Hungarians, as Christians to Christians, had generously offered everything for sale, our men willfully and wantonly ignored their hospitality and generosity, arbitrarily waging war against them, assuming that they would not resist, but would remain entirely peaceful. In an accursed rage they burned the public granaries we spoke of, raped virgins, dishonored many marriage beds by carrying off many women, and tore out or burned the beards of their hosts. None of them now thought of buying what he needed, but instead each man strove for what he could get by theft and murder, boasting with amazing impudence that he would easily do the same against the Turks. On their way they came to a castle that they could not avoid passing through. It was sited so that the path allowed no divergence to the right or left. With their usual insolence they moved to besiege it, but when they had almost captured it, suddenly, for a reason that is no concern of mine, they were overwhelmed; some died by sword, others were drowned in the river, others, without any money, in abject poverty, deeply ashamed, returned to France. And because this place was called Moisson, and when they returned they said that they had been as far as Moisson, they were greeted with great laughter everywhere.[99]

When he was unable to restrain this undisciplined crowd of common people, who were like prisoners and slaves, Peter, together with a group of Germans and the dregs of our own people, whose foresight had enable them to escape, reached the city of Constantinople on the calends of August (July 30). But a large army of Italians, Ligurians, Langobards, together with men from parts of countries beyond the Alps, had preceded him, and had decided to wait for his army and the armies of the other Frankish leaders, because they did not think that they had a large enough army to go beyond the province of the Greeks and attack the Turks. By order of the emperor they had been granted permission to buy everything they wanted, and to conduct business in the city, but, on the advice of this prince, they were forbidden to cross the Arm of Saint George, which was the sea that provided border with the Turks, because he said that it was sure destruction for so few men to go up against so many. But they were not held back by the decency of the people of the province, nor were they mollified by the emperor's affability, but they behaved very insolently, wrecking palaces, burning public buildings, tearing the roofs of churches that were covered with lead, and then offering to sell the lead back to the Greeks. Disturbed by such foul arrogance, the emperor instructed them to delay their crossing of the waters of the Arm no longer. Once they had made the crossing, they continued to behave as they had on the other side; those who had taken a vow to fight against the pagans fought against men of our own faith, destroying churches everywhere, and stealing the possessions of Christians. Since they were not subject to the severity of a king, who might correct their errors with judicial strength, nor did they reflect soberly upon divine law, which might have restrained the instability of their minds, they fell to sudden death, because death comes to meet the undisciplined, and the man who cannot control himself does not last long.

When they finally reached Nicomedia,[100] the Italians, Lombards, and Germans, unable to bear the pride of the Franks, separated from them. For the Franks, as their name indicates,[101] were famous for their great energy, but, in large groups, unless they are restrained by a firm hand, they are fiercer than they should be. And so the people from beyond the Alps, having separated, as we just said, from the Franks, chose as their leader a certain Rainald, and entered the province which is called Romania.[102] Four days march from Nicomedia, they came upon a castle which its builder had been pleased to call Exorogorgum,[103] and which, since it had been abandoned by its inhabitants, lay open to the troops, who immediately rushed in. The inhabitants had fled out of fear of the invaders; desperate to save themselves, they gave no thought to carrying with them their goods, of which they had a considerable amount. Thus the troops found an abundance of food there, and they ate their full. When the Turks discovered that the Christians had occupied the castle, they laid siege to it with great force. In front of the entrance to the city was a well, and below it, not far from the city walls, another well, where their leader Rainald cleverly set an ambush, to keep an eye on the Turks. Soon the Turks who were being watched advanced towards the city, and on the day on which the memory of the blessed Michael was celebrated,[104] the duke and his retainers were attacked, and many of those who lay in ambush were killed, while others were forced to return in disgrace within the battlements. The surrounding Turks attacked so relentlessly that the Crusaders were prevented from drawing water. They became so thirsty that they drew blood from their horses and asses, and were compelled to drink the blood. Some, by dipping their belts and rags into a cistern, and squeezing the liquid into their mouths, seemed to find some relief. Others, horrible though it is to say, drank their own urine,[105] while others dug a hole and placed themselves in the hole they had dug, covering their parched breasts with the recently dug up earth, in the belief that they might relieve their burning insides with a bit of moisture. The bishops and priests who were present, and were themselves suffering in the same way, seeing that the dangers were hideous and human help unavailable, offered consolation, continuing to promise heavenly rewards. For eight days their suffering continued. While they all seemed to be subject to the same misery, they did not all hope for God's mercy in the same way; those who had been the leaders plotted treacherously to save themselves. Rainald, who lead them in prosperity, secretly and foully concluded a pact with the Turks, promising to betray to them all the soldiers he commanded. And so he marched out as though about to battle them, but while pretending to lead them in this way, he and many of his own men fled to the Turks, and he remained with them from then on; the others were captured. Some of the prisoners were challenged about their faith, and ordered to renounce Christ, but they proclaimed Christ with steady heart and voice, and were decapitated.

And now Christ will have new honors, like those he had long ago, ornamenting our age with new martyrs. How fragrant are the laurels on the brows of those who prepare to offer their throats to the swift blade! I shall call them happy who endure those few moments: their firm faith has brought them eternal life. Now the least of us need despair no longer, having dared what can scarcely be imitated.[106]

The Turks divided up among themselves some of the captives, whose lives they had spared, or rather reserved for a more painful death, and submitted them to dismal servitude at the hands of cruel masters. Some were exposed in public, like targets, and were pierced by arrows; others were given away as gifts, while others were sold outright. Those to whom they were given took them back to their own homes, bringing some of them to the region called Khorasan, and others to the city of Antioch, where they would endure wretched slavery under the worst masters imaginable.

They underwent a torture much longer than that endured by those whose heads were severed swiftly by the sword. A cruel master drives them, subjecting them to painful labor; everywhere the pious man serves the ungrateful man. The conscientious worker is flogged; the faithful man, who performs eagerly and competently, is punished. What he sees, what he hears, what he does during the day, because he resists doing evil, becomes foul torture. I have no doubt that their suffering was more excruciating than three days of torture on the rack.[107]

These were the first martyrs God made in the nearly desperate state of our modern times.

Meanwhile Peter, about whom we spoke earlier, often troubled by the folly of his retinue, disturbed by frequent losses, finally gave the reins of leadership over to well-born man, a powerful warrior from beyond the Seine, whose name was Walter,[108] in the hope that those whom he had been unable to control by warnings might at least be restrained by military authority. Walter hurried, together with his insane army, to reach Civitot,[109] a city that is said to be located above Nicaea.[110] When the Turks, who were keeping track of our movements, found out, they hurried to Civitot, eager to act out their great ill will. Half-way there, they met up with the above-mentioned Walter and his group, and they killed him and a great many of his men. Peter, called the Hermit, unable to restrain the insanity of the men he had gathered together, was afraid of being caught up in their undisciplined, improvident folly, and wisely retreated to Constantinople. The Turks attacked them without warning, and, finding some of them asleep, and others not only without weapons, but unclothed as well, immediately killed them all. Among them they found a certain priest performing mass, and they killed him in the very act of completing the sacrament; while he was sacrificing to God, they sacrificed him at the same altar.

What better host can be offered to God than the flesh of him who becomes a victim for his God. What prayer did he utter from the depths of his heart when the trumpets of battle sounded? The victors tore them to pieces, the clangor of arms resounded, and the wretched band of fugitives howled. The fine priest embraced the altar, holding the sacred host closely, "Good Jesus," he said,"you are here as my protection. Since I am holding you, let the hope of flight disappear. I shall enter into an eternal pact with you. I am killed, and you, God, shall carry out the sacred things we have begun."[111]

Those who were able to escape fled to the city of Civetot. The depths of the sea received some, who, unable to escape, preferred to choose their death rather than have it thrust upon them. Others sought out the mountains and hid among the rocks, while others hid in the woods. After they had captured or taken vengeance on those they found outside, the Turks quickly attacked those who were hiding inside the castle and they set up a siege, bringing wood to start fire. They lit fires for those who were being besieged, thinking that the fire would burn those inside the castle. However, in accordance with God's judgment, the whole force of the fire fell upon the Turks, and burned some of them, while none of it reached our men. They continued to attack, however, and the town was captured. Those whom they found alive they tied up and then, as had been done to the others before them, they were sent to the various provinces from which the enemy had come, to endure perpetual exile. These things happened in the month of October. When the treacherous Emperor was informed of the disaster that had befallen the faithful, the wretch was elated with joy, and ordered that the remaining troops be given permission to cross the Arm of Saint George, and to retreat to the nearer parts of Greece. When he saw them return to the territory over which he had power, he forced them to sell their arms to him. Such was the end of the group under the command of Peter the Hermit. We have followed this story without interrupting it so that we might show that Peter's group in no way helped the others, but in fact added to the audacity of the Turks. And now we shall return to the men we have passed over, who followed the same path that Peter did, but in a far more restrained and fortunate way.

Duke Godfrey, the son of count Eustace of Boulogne, had two brothers: Baldwin, who ruled Edessa, and succeeded his brother as king of Jerusalem, and who still rules there; and Eustace, who rules in the county he inherited from his father. They had a powerful father, who was competent in worldly affairs, and their mother was, if I am not mistaken, a learned Lotharingian aristocrat, but most remarkable for her innate serenity and great devotion to God. The joys she received from such exemplary sons were due, we believe, to her profound religious belief. Godfrey, about whom we are now speaking, had received a duchy in Lotharingia as his maternal heritage. All three, in no way inferior to their mother in honesty, flourished in great military deeds, as well as in the restraint of their behavior. The glorious woman used to say, when she marveled at the result of the journey and the success of her sons, that she had heard from the mouth of her son the duke a prediction of the outcome long before the beginning of the expedition. For he said that he wanted to go to Jerusalem not as a simple pilgrim, as others had done, but forcefully, with a large army, if he could raise one. In accordance with this divinely inspired intuition, fortune later smiled on his project. The three brothers, heedless of the great honors they already had, set out on the journey. But even as Godfrey was wiser than his other brothers, so he was equipped with a larger army. He was joined by Baldwin, Count of Mons, son of Robert, the paternal uncle of the young count of Flanders. With the splendid knightly ceremony and spectacle, the band of powerful young men entered the land of the Hungarians, in possession of what Peter was unable to obtain: control over his army. Two days before Christmas, the first of the French leaders to arrive, they reached the city of Constantinople, but their lodgings were outside the city. The treacherous emperor, frightened when he heard that the brilliant duke had arrived, offered formal, but grudging signs of respect, and offered him permission to dwell in front of the walls, in a suburb of the city. And so, after accepting the emperor's offer, the duke and each of his men sent their own squires to get straw and whatever was necessary for their horses from wherever they could. While they were thinking that they could go safely and securely wherever they wished, the foul prince secretly ordered the men around him to kill, without making any distinctions, all of the men who were carrying out the duke's instructions, wherever they found them. When Baldwin, the duke's brother, found out about this, he set an ambush; when he discovered the Turcopolitans violently attacking his own men, he forcefully attacked them, as was right. And with God's favor he won such a victory that he captured sixty of them; he killed some of them and handed others over to his brother the duke. When news of this event reached the impious emperor, he was filled with self-reproach. Made more cautious by this event, the duke left the suburb of the city where he had been staying, and set up camp outside of its borders. However, as evening approached, the emperor, unable to put aside his anger, hastily collected an army and began hostilities against the duke and his men. Forcefully accepting the challenge, the duke defeated them and drove them in flight back into the city, killing seven men. After this fortunate turn of events, the duke returned to his encampment, and remained there for five days, while he and the emperor negotiated a treaty. The frightened emperor asked that the duke cross the Arm of Saint George, promising in return that he would order to be brought to them supplies of whatever kinds of food were to be found in Constantinople and that he would give alms to their poor. And this was done.

Since we have spoken about the duke and his journey up to this point, I must return to the leaders of central France; I shall give a brief sketch of who they were, by what roads they traveled, and what the outcome of their efforts was. The Bishop of Puy, a man to be admired for his life, knowledge, teaching, and wisdom in military affairs, together with a large group of his countrymen, chose to set out through the land of the Slavs. Earlier I expressed my regret at not knowing his name, and for being unable to learn it from the history of which I seem to be the interpreter; finally, however, through those who knew him on that expedition, and who were familiar with him, I learned that this precious man's name was Aimarus.

Among the rest of the leaders, it seems to me that Hugh the Great, the brother of Philip the king of the Franks, must be dealt with first. Although others were wealthier or more powerful, he was second to none in birth or in the probity of his behavior. He was most justly celebrated for being forceful in arms, serenely secure in his noble birth, and, even more important, humble towards every sacred order, forthright and restrained. Certain leaders attached themselves to him, thinking that they would make him king if it happened that, after the Gentiles were driven out, the occupation of the land came about as a result of battle.

After him came Count Stephen, a man endowed with such power that, according to report, he controlled as many castles as the year has days. His generosity was unexcelled, his presence very pleasing, his performance in council sober, steady, and thoughtfully mature; he so excelled in his activities as a knight, that the entire holy army chose him as their chief magistrate and general for the duration of the battle against the Turks. His wife was the wisest of women, the daughter of King William the elder, who had conquered the kingdoms of the English and the Scots. If we wish to praise her wisdom, generosity, bountifulness, and opulence, I fear lest, by praising his wife, we cast shadow on the magnificent man, which he has earned now that he has been deprived of her. Robert the younger, son of Robert the elder, to whom the emperor had sent a letter, with great eagerness took charge of building up their forces; he gave up the county of Flanders, which he had ruled with great military skill, to become a fellow soldier on the journey with those who had chosen to become exiles for Christ. The rest of the present history will indicate how steadily he carried out what he had begun. Leaving behind their superb wives and their fine sons, they put aside whatever they felt great affection for, choosing instead exile. I say nothing about their honors and possessions, which are outside our concerns. But what surprises us most is the way in which loving husbands and wives, attached even more closely to each other by the bond of children, could be separated, when there was no present danger to either.

It would hardly be right to remain silent about Robert, Count of Normandy, whose bodily indulgences, weakness of will, prodigality with money, gourmandising, indolence, and lechery were expiated by the perseverance and heroism that he vigorously displayed in the army of the Lord. His inborn compassion was naturally so great that he did not permit vengeance to be taken against those who had plotted to betray him and had been sentenced to death, and if something did happen to them, he wept for their misfortune. He was bold in battle, although adeptness at foul trickery, with which we know many men befouled themselves, should not be praised, unless provoked by unspeakable acts. For these and for similar things he should now be forgiven, since God has punished him in this world, where he now languishes in jail, deprived of all his honors.

Each of the illustrious leaders was followed on the journey by many lesser princes, whom we shall not list at this point, because it might seem to be distracting, and we shall perhaps have better reason for naming them in the course of the narration. Who can count the masters of one, two, three, or four castles? There were so many that the siege of Troy could scarcely have brought so many together. At the time that this expedition was being undertaken by the magnates of the kingdom, and a meeting was being held by them with Hugh the Great, with Philip the king present, at Paris, in the month of February, on the eleventh day of the month, a lunar eclipse took place just before midnight. Little by little the moon turned to the color of blood, until it had turned completely and hideously blood red, but at dawn an unusually bright splendor shone around the circle of the moon. Soon afterward stars seemed to fall from the skies, like a heavy rain. This was so like a portent that many churches considered it to be one, and they instituted public prayers to avert the punishment that it might signify, and they wrote down the time of the event.

Soon after, in the month of August, on the eighth day, just before sunset, the part around the center of the moon turned black, and many people saw this happen. It should be said that, although the moon normally undergoes eclipses when full, nevertheless some of these changes of colors are manifestations of portents, and are customarily recorded in the pontifical books and in the deeds of kings. Other things were also seen, most of which we shall pass over.

Raymond, Count of Saint Gilles is placed last, not because he is of no worth, but to complete the list. Because he lived at the furthest edge of France, he has offered us less information about his activities; but he ennobles the telling of this history, from the beginning to the end, with the model of his great virtue and constancy. Having left behind his own son to rule his land, he brought with him his present wife and the only son he had had with her. Raymond was older than the other leaders, but his army was in no way inferior, except perhapsfor the Provencal habit of talking too much. When this large force of powerful knights, having traveled over the road which we customarily take to Rome, arrived in Apulia, they had contracted a great many illnesses, and many died, because of the great heat of the summer, the foul air, and the strange food. To cross the sea they gathered at different ports:

many went to Brundisi, pathless Hydrus (Otrante) received others, while the fishy waters of Bari welcomed others.[112]

Hugh the Great did not wait for his men and the knights of the princes who were his allies, but hastily and unwisely went to the port of Bari, and after a fortunate sea-journey, arrived at Dyrrachium.[113] He should have considered that at the prospect of so many men, such great numbers of knights and foot soldiers, all of Greece, as one might say, trembled to its very foundations. And although other leaders had greater repute among us than he, nevertheless, among foreigners, and particularly among the Greeks, who are the laziest of men, his unbounded fame as the brother of the king of France preceded him. Therefore, when the leader appointed by the emperor to govern that place saw such well-known man without a large retinue about him, he seized the opportunity to make something out of his isolation. He took the man and ordered him to be conducted carefully and respectfully to Constantinople, with one purpose in mind: that he might promise the frightened prince that he would not harm his life or honor. Thus what happened to this famous man weakened the courage of the great leaders who came after him, for the cleverness of the treacherous prince compelled the others, either by force, or in secret, or by imprecations, to do what he had done. But now the end of this book has come.

Book Three

When the vast army drawn from nearly all the Western lands approached Apulia, word of the arrival of that multitude reached Bohemund, son of Robert who was called Guiscard, a man of remarkable greatness. At that time he was engaged in besieging Amalfi. After the messenger had made his way through the crowd of people, he told Bohemund the reasons for the journey: they were hastening to free Jerusalem, the Lord's tomb, and the sacred places which were being abused there, from the power of the Gentiles. He also told him of the kind of people, of how many fine men, as I might say, left their honorable positions and were striving with unheard-of eagerness to join this expedition. He asked if they were carrying arms, packs, what insignia of this new pilgrimage they were wearing, and finally, what war-cries they called out in battle. He replied that the Franks were carrying their usual arms, and that they had sewn the sign of the cross on their shoulders or elsewhere, out of any material or rag they had at hand; they had renounced individual battle-cries as arrogant, and instead they all humbly and faithfully shouted in battle, "God wishes it." His heart was deeply stirred by these words, and, inspired by God, he was stung by conscience; he ordered that his most precious mantle be brought to him, and he had it cut up into little crosses; he put one on himself, and gave out the other crosses to be worn by those of his men who subscribed to the cause to which he had dedicated himself. The knights who had followed him to this siege also experienced a sudden change of heart, and set out on the same journey that their leader had chosen. Such a crowd of knights made this choice at that moment that Bohemund's brother, count Roger of Sicily, grieved deeply that he was robbed of nearly all of his retainers at this siege.

But I should say a few words about Bohemund's parentage, and about the steps by which he proceeded to this position of honor. Robert, whose surname we have given as Guiscard, was from Normandy, and was born to a family of no great distinction. He went from there to Apulia, but whether he left his native land voluntarily or was driven from it I don't know. There, by some means or other, he earned horses and arms to become a knight. He assembled, from various places, a group of thieves to help him in his endeavours, took over certain castles, with the aid of disgraceful treachery, occupied some other castles after wearing them down with frequent attacks, laid sieges to wealthy cities, and compelled them to surrender. To finish in a few words, this "new man" extended his power, conquering at will to such an extent that the verses on his epitaph read, "he drove him out whom the Ligurians, Rome, and Lake Leman recognized as king, "[114]that is, Henry Augustus, a man favored by fortune with innumerable, almost continual victories.

Parthia, Arabia, the phalanx of Macedonians did not protect Alexis, [115]

the prince of the Greeks, who has often been our concern. Having defeated him often, Robert, they say, would have worn the crown in the city of Constantinople in a few days, had draught of poison not suddenly snatched his life from him. Anyone who wishes today may see the power of his son Bohemund who, obliterating the low origin of his family, married the daughter of Philip, king of France, and tried to take by violence the empire of the above mentioned king Alexis. While his brother Roger returned to Sicily, unhappy that he had lost so many men of all ranks, that it seemed that the whole people was about to go off to Jerusalem, Bohemund collected the troops and supplies that were necessary for such an expedition, embarked with his army, and with a favoring wind easily reached the Bulgarian shore. His retinue was filled with many wise knights and great princes, among whom was Tancred, who was, if I am not mistaken, the son of a certain marquis and Bohemund's sister. Tancred's brother, whose name was William, had set out before him with Hugh the Great. In addition there was Richard of the First City,[116] a remarkably good-looking man, whom we saw perform the office of delegate to the king of the Franks, to ask for the hand of Constantia as wife for Bohemund. Then, when he and his men entered the land of Bulgaria, they found a great supply of every kind of food. When they arrived in the valley of Andropolitanus,[117] they remained there waiting for the rest of the fleet to finish the journey. When everyone had arrived, the leaders met, and Bohemund told his plan to his men, ordering everyone alike who was about to pass through territory inhabited by Christians to behave peacefully, to do no harm, and not to depopulate the land of those whose rights they had come to protect; they should take, as peacefully as possible, and after having paid for it, only the food that they needed. They went forward, and as they passed from city to city, from field to field, from camp to camp, they found abundant trade everywhere, until they arrived in the province called Castoria, and there they solemnly celebrated Christmas, remaining for several days. They asked the people of the province for permission to trade, but they refused to grant permission, fearing that our men, whom they considered warriors, not pilgims, wanted to destroy their land and crush them. Angered, their restraint now turned to fury, and they seized horses, cows, asses, and whatever else was useful. Then they left Castoria and entered Pelagonia, where they came upon a fortified town of heretics, which they attacked on every side, compelling them to surrender. They then burned it to the ground, together with its inhabitants. From there they went to the river called the Baudarus. [118] Bohemund moved forward with part of his knights and left the rest in the hands of a certain one of his counts. When the emperor's army, which was not far off, learned of this, it attacked the count, who was now without the aid of Bohemund, who had gone on ahead of him, and the count's men were thrown into confusion by the attack of the enemy. When brave Tancred heard of this, he swiftly turned back, leaped into the river mentioned above, and swam back to those who were being attacked. He then assembled the nearly two thousand men who swam behind him, found the enemy, who were fighting fiercely against his own men, and attacked them with equal fierceness, quickly overcoming them. Many of them were captured and brought before Bohemund in chains. To them the prince said, "Why do you pursue my people, the people of Christ? I am not trying to overthrow your emperor." They replied, "We do nothing by our own deliberation. We are soldiers who earn money by carrying out the orders of the emperor; whatever he tells us to do we do." When the splendid man heard this, he let them go, without punishment and without ransom. This battle took place on the fourth day of the week, which among Christians is called the beginning of the fast[119]

The emperor Alexis, when he heard of Bohemund's exemplary action, then sent for the councilor upon whom he most relied, and told him to lead the magnanimous duke, together with his army, through his own land, and into his own presence at Constantinople. While the army was passing through all the towns and cities of the empire, an imperial edict commanded all the inhabitants of these regions to see to it that Bohemund and his men had a supply of everything that could be bought. However, although the army was allowed to proceed through the provinces, none of Bohemund's men were permitted to enter the walls of any city. The knights were about to invade a certain fort that seemed abundant with supplies, but the illustrious man forbade it, partly out of respect for the laws of the land, partly to avoid offending the emperor, or rather, he did not want to break the pact he had just made with him through intermediaries. Angry at their foolish attempt, and particularly at Tancred, he forbade them to go on. This happened in the evening. The next morning the inhabitants of the fort came out, bearing the banners of the Cross before them, demonstrating their humility and religious belief to Bohemund. He greeted them affably and courteously, thanked them, and sent the contented people back to the town. Then they reached a city called Serra, where they pitched their tents, and successfully traded in the marketplace. Here Bohemund was reconciled with his two courtly prefects. In keeping with the recent treaty and with the law of the land, he ordered that everything which had been taken from the inhabitants be restored to them. Then they proceeded to the outskirts of city called Rusa,[120] where a crowd of Greeks, both aristocrats and commoners, rushed to greet the noble man, offering all kinds of merchandise. They made camp there three days before the feast of the Lord. Bohemund then left his retinue behind and set out for Constantinople, together with a few of his knights, to confer with the emperor. In the meanwhile Tancred was in charge of the army, and when he saw that food was difficult to purchase with empty purses, he decided to leave the major routes and move along the less frequented ones, where a greater supply of necessary items for everyone might be found. Therefore he lead them from the public way, out of consideration for the poor, and entered a valley abundantly supplied with different kinds of food. There the people piously celebrated Easter (April 5, 1097). When Alexis heard that Bohemund was coming to meet with him, he ordered that he be given the most respectful welcome, and that he be given quarters just outside the city wall.[121] When he arrived, he was invited to speak with the emperor; he went and was received in secret.

Meanwhile Duke Godfrey, together with his brother Baldwin and the count of Saint-Gilles, each leading a strong group of men, reached the outskirts of Constantinople. The perfidious Alexis, who once was thought to be eager for support against the Turks, gnashed his teeth in the bitterness of his anger, and pondered on a means to bring about the total destruction of the large army that was, as he thought, about to attack him. But God, whose force drove this pious army, watched over them so well that no occasion presented itself for the scoundrel to harm them; furthermore, cut off from all possibility of doing harm, the wretch was stricken with great fear. The people of Constantinople were disturbed at the sight of so many battalions assembling, and they held a meeting to determine what to do. Fearful that the city would be crushed by the great number of men who were arriving, and that the provinces would be taken over and devastated, they decided, after considering several alternatives, that their tyrant should demand an oath from the Franks that they would never harm him or his people. When our leaders learned of this, they showed great contempt and scorn. They understood clearly that if the initial army happened to deviate from this pact, it would be necessary for such a large army, stripped of all resources by poverty, to wage war against the perfidious prince, contrary to the oaths they had taken. "And certainly," they said, "Even if no fear of what might happen in the future weighed upon us, the fact that we had been compelled by the puny Greeks, laziest of all people, to swear an oath would be to our eternal shame. We cannot doubt that they would say that we, willy-nilly, had submitted to their rule." The emperor came to mighty Bohemund about this matter, and was ready to entice him whom he greatly feared with gifts, for Bohemund had often defeated him in battle; Alexis concentrated particularly on Bohemund, because he regarded him as his greatest rival. Therefore he offered him land the other side of Antioch, whose length would take fifteen days to cross, and whose width would take no less than eight days to cross. The great man's firmness was broken by this offer, and what Hugh the Great had promised, compelled by necessity and the enticement of money, Bohemund agreed to swear to on condition that if Alexis reneged on what he had agreed to, he himself would not have to carry out what he had sworn to. If anyone asks why he and the others relaxed their firmness by swearing oaths to the tyrant, he should understand that the leaders were helping their fellow soldiers in God out of necessity, for they would have been in dire poverty if they had been denied their pay. Alexis swore oaths also, stating, "that he would come with them, at the head of his own army, aid them on land and on the sea, and he would order that food be brought from everywhere for them to purchase; if they suffered any losses, he would indemnify them fully; finally, he would not wish or allow anyone on this expedition, to the extent that he had the ability, to be harassed, harmed, or killed."

The Count of Saint-Gilles had established camp in the outskirts of Byzantium before the entire army had arrived, and the tyrant sent a messenger to ask the count to do what the others had done, that is, offer him homage. The cleverness of the insolent tyrant demanded this, but the wisdom of the glorious count set about devising a way to take vengeance against the envy of the scoundrel. But the leaders, that is, Godfrey, Hugh the Great, and Robert of Flanders, and the others, said that they would never take up arms against someone who was considered to be a Christian. Bohemund added that if Raymond waged war against the Emperor, and thereby broke the oath he had given the Emperor, he himself would take the emperor's part. And so the count, after consulting with his closest advisors, swore to protect the life and honor of the impious Alexis, and that he would not for his own sake or to aid others work to destroy him. When they considered the clause about hommage, he said that he would rather undergo mortal danger than submit to such a proposition. Meanwhile Bohemund's army drew near to the towers of Constantinople. Having learned what oaths the emperor had exacted, Tancred, together with the men he was leading (almost the entire forces of Bohemund), quickly crossed the Arm of Saint George. The army of the Count of Saint-Gilles had scattered, setting up its tents at the edge of the city. Bohemund remained with the Emperor, so that he might more easily supervise the carrying out of the imperial edict which ordered the people beyond Nicaea to bring food from everywhere to his army. Duke Godfrey had gone ahead, together with Tancred, to Nicomedia, a city founded by Nicomedes, who, according to a poem, won a battle against Caesar, but did not triumph.[122] Each of them remained there with his troops for three days. The duke, considering that the roads were filled with obstacles, and that an army as large as theirs could not make its way along them, since the road that Peter the Hermit's men had used could not accommodate so many men, sent three thousand men ahead of him, with axes and hoes to widen the roads and make them passable as far as Nicea. The road was incredibly difficult, filled with sharp stones, and moving over steep mountains. Those who were in the lead widened the road by cutting up the rocks, and they placed crosses of iron and wood on tall stakes, so that our men, when they saw these signs aloft, would not wander from the road. Finally they came to Nicea, the central city of Armenia, and the chief city of Bythinia, famous for the synod of 318 fathers, but even more famous for the declaration of Omousion, and the condemnation of Arius. The next day was the sixth of May, and they pitched their camps in the area around the city, on the third day after they had left Nicomedia. Before the army of Bohemund arrived, they say that there was such shortage of bread that one loaf of bread cost twenty or thirty pennies. But when Bohemund appeared, he brought great quantity of food by land and by sea, and suddenly plentiful supply of everything necessary flowed.

On the day of the Ascension of Our Lord, they began to attack the city from all sides, to draw up machines, to erect ladders, prepare fire-bombs, and to fire at the ramparts of the walls and towers with their crossbows.[123] The siege of the city was undertaken with such sharp fervor that within two days they had undermined the walls. The Turks, who held the city, sent messengers to other cities, asking for them to bring help, and to enter without fear by the southern gate, since that part was not under siege, and presented no obstacle to those wishing to bring help. On that very day, however, the sabbath after the Ascension of Our Lord, the entrance of that gate was being guarded by the Count of Saint-Gilles and the Bishop of Puy. An event occurred there that was truly noteworthy. This same noble count, faithful to God, strong and competent in arms, surrounded by a no less competent army, found in front of him enemy reinforcements hurrying towards the town. Relying in his spirit upon divine assistance, he attacked and conquered the Turks, compelling them to flee, and slicing most of them to pieces. Hideously defeated, the Turks went about finding new forces with which they enthusiastically decided to go to battle again, carrying ropes with which they proposed to tie up our men and bring them back to Khorasan. Encouraged by this empty hope, they began, in single file and step by step, to descend from the top of the mountain that towered over the city. They were welcomed with pleasure by our men, as was fitting, and they left their severed heads as proof of our victory. After the Turks fled, our catapults and slings fired the severed heads into the city to terrify the Gentiles. However, the bishop of Puy of blessed memory and Count Raymond of Saint-Gilles, pressing forward to weaken the city, attacked a tower near their own camp by digging tunnels to undermine its foundations. After the miners were in place to carry this out, they were given protection by men with bows and crossbows, by men swinging balearic ropes, and by others defending the sappers. Thus the tower was undermined to the depths of its foundation, while the collapsing wall was held only with beams and poles; when the base of the foundation had been entirely demolished, they set fire to the beams:

When cloudy night brought quiet to both sides, the weakened tower fell in ruins, but because night is less appropriate for fighting, the Franks stopped, refusing to harm the Turks at night.[124]

The Turks, however, worried about their safety, very wisely got up, and, in the same place, rebuilt the wall so quickly and of such strength that the next day our men could find no way of doing them any harm. Meanwhile, two men arrived, the most celebrated for deeds of arms and the wealthiest counts, whom we have already mentioned, accompanied by many knights, whose arrival filled the whole army of the Lord with joy: Robert, Count of Normandy, and Count Stephen of Chartres.

Thus Bohemund besieged the city from the front, Tancred from the side, Duke Godfrey from a third position, the count of Flanders from a fourth, the count of Normandy from fifth, and the count of Saint-Gilles and the bishop of Puy from a sixth. They set about besieging it, so that none of the besieged could get in or out. There one could see gathered the flower of the armed force, or the wisdom, the nobility, of the fame of all of France, dressed in the breastplates and helmets of knights; those who were skilled at counting the number of people in an army thought that there were about 100,000 men. I do not think that anyone could count the whole crowd of foot-soldiers, or of those who attended knights. The latter group not only performed the tasks that servants and slaves normally perform for soldiers, but they took part in the siege, and in the battles themselves, like lions, with bravery like that of their betters, as though they were accustomed to wielding now arms, now tools of any sort, whether for war, or for any other task necessary.

No speech will be able to tell how much the integrity of those powerful warriors shone forth at that time. No land on earth will ever see soldiers of such nobility fighting together. If you wish, I shall relate the story of every kingdom, speak of battles done everywhere; none of these will be able to equal either the nobility or the force of these men. They left their paternal lands, abandoned conjugal bonds, their children were unattractive to them, remaining at home was punishment for them; in every knight the desire for martyrdom burns. When the mob is carried away by the promise of bloodshed, who can find anyone who is unmoved? Everyone is lion-hearted, pleased to see the walls of Nicea surrounded. The field shone with the reins of horses, and the shape and sound of their trappings gives pleasure to everyone. Their armor burns more brightly once it has drunk the sun's rays. Their helmets, shields with yellow bronze, and belts blaze. You would have seen them, like a storm, beating the walls down with their battering rams. The Frankish spears penetrated their hard limbs, and their sharp swords broke many of their bones. The wooden tower strove to drive the Turks from the lofty walls. The battle rages hand-to-hand, and spears were hurled on both sides; hardly any of them missed. Unexpected death laid some men low. Heavenly glory then made our men strong; they exposed their bodies to what was fated. They rejoiced in seeking rewards through death. Every weary man became bold and aggressive, driven by hope for a better life. The crimes of souls greedy of praise are far distant. Every man believed that, if war granted him a breath of fame, Christ was the one who gave it. No one who performed noble act took credit for it. We will not be able to compare the Scythian triumphs over Darius with these, nor could the great, manly efforts of Cyrus be known, which Tomyris had finished off with a bag of gore.[125] You would have mourned the outcome, good Pyrrus, looking upon Tarentum; you babble uselessly of taking on new wars with elephants. Once, twice, three times Hanibal's men cut down the Quirites like wheat, but they were at last defeated and left the city. Although under Caesar there was ten-year fight without loss, let it be clear that the sojourn in the fields of Gaul was harmful. The task took very little time, and was entirely successful. Since God was involved, everything turned out well in the end. Those who died as martyrs had a glorious fate, and those who did not judged that the suffering mitigated their sins.[126]

Part of the city was bordered by a long, broad, stagnant lake, upon which the enemy was seen launching boats, freely going in and out, carrying wood and fodder and other necessary items. Our leaders held a meeting about this activity, and they agreed to send a delegation to the prince of Constantinople, to urge him to send as many ships as possible to the city of Civitot, where there was a port, and to collect a great number of bulls to carry the ships over the mountains and through the forests until they reached the above-mentioned lake. The plan was discussed and carried out quickly, urged on by the prince; those who are called the Turkopoles, that is, the knights of his court, were sent on the expedition. When the boats were brought, in accordance with the emperor's orders, they remained still on the day that they were brought. That night, however, they put the boats on the lake, and the Turkopoles, very well equipped with weapons, got into them. In the morning the fleet assembled, and proceeded slowly towards the city, as though they were bringing tribute. The Turks, who were amazed at the sight of the ships, could not decide whether they were their own, or the emperor's. After they understood that what they were seeing was an enemy force, they grew weak with a fear of death, but the more they groaned and wept the more our own men were pleased and gave thanks to the Lord. This misfortune severely enfeebled the enemy, who now lost faith in themselves and their allies, and sent legation to the emperor, offering to surrender the city, if he could get permission from the Franks for them to leave with their wives, sons, and adequate provisions. The tyrant graciously favored their request, and not only granted it without punishing them, but, to bind them even closer to himself, brought them to Constantinople. He had one principal object in doing this: in case of a disagreement with the Franks, he would advantageously have men with whom to oppose them. The siege had lasted seven weeks and three days, and many of our men received the gift of martyrdom in that place. It is undoubtedly true that those who went to their death in defense of the true faith certainly may be numbered among those who are with God; having paid with their blood, they have earned celestial rewards. Those who died of starvation are certainly their equals, and a great number died there in that way. For if, according to the Prophet, speaking historically, "it was better for those killed by the sword than for those killed by hunger,"[127] since the latter undoubtedly were tortured to death by daily pain, they will not, it is right to believe, be deprived of the more noble crown of martyrdom.

After the city had surrendered, and the Turks had been brought to Constantinople, the tyrannical prince was extremely pleased to have regained the city, and he gave our leaders countless gifts; he also made substantial charitable contributions to all the poorest people. As a result, those who were neither powerful nor poor, whom his generosity had overlooked, grew envious and hostile towards the leaders. And, in a way, it was not unjust. They had fought the battles; they were the ones who had carried out the entire siege, hauled the engines of war, fired the catapults; to conclude briefly, I say that they carried, "the burden and heat of the day."[128] On the day that they left the captured city they reached a bridge in whose vicinity they remained for two days. On the third day, at the first feeble glimmerings of dawn, they arose, moved about blindly in what little light there was, and went down two separate roads, forming two groups. For two days they marched in two separate divisions. One contained Bohemund, Robert of Normandy, and Tancred, together with a large contingent of knights; the Count of Saint-Gilles, Duke Godfrey, the bishop of Puy, Hugh the Great, and the count of Flanders were leading the other group through pathless territory. On the third day, an innumerable, terrible, and nearly overwhelming mass of Turks suddenly rushed upon Bohemund and his men. You would have seen them speaking melodramatically about the fear that they expected our men, frightened at their unexpected attack, to feel as they shouted their war-like battle-cry in the horrible tones of their language. Under attack by an immense force, the extraordinary man was not frightened into acting unwisely, but immediately ordered everyone to halt, unroll the tents, and establish camp quickly. Before his orders had been carried out, he addressed his own knights: "If you keep in mind the expedition that you joined, having considered why it was necessary, then go forward; attack them like men, defend your honor and your life, and you, foot soldiers, pitch the tents carefully." When he had finished, the Turks attacked suddenly and swiftly, hurling javelins, and fighting in their usual fashion by fleeing as they fired arrows into the breasts of their pursuers. Aware of what they had promised, mindful of their vaunted strength, the Franks clearly understood that they were numerically overmatched, but they fought with energetic bravery against their furious enemies. The count of Normandy, properly mindful of his father's military valor and noble ancestry, performed mighty deeds of arms, fighting off the enemy, and offering a fine example of resistance to our momentarily frightened army. God was also present, so that the women who had accompanied them stood by their men, constantly bringing water to refresh the knights. Indeed, their encouragement and advice did more to make the men more tireless and inventive than the water did to refresh them. But when Bohemund became troubled by the extreme inequality of the contest, he sent a messenger to those who had gone off separately, Raymond the Count of Saint-Gilles, Duke Godfrey, Hugh the Great, the bishop of Puy, and others of their retinues, telling them to come very quickly, because battle was imminent. Thus they say:

If they would like to see the beginnings of battle with the Turks, what they want is now here: come quickly.[129]

And so Godfrey, worthy of the title of duke, a model warrior, accompanied by Hugh the Great, who took after his father in military ardor, courageous as befitted one descended from kings, like a leopard, I might say, together with his retinue, raced to the battle as eagerly as to feast. Then the Bishop of Puy,

strengthened the army not only with his shining arms, but with his counsel and sacred prayers; if they had been hesitant, he ignited the army.[130]

Then the Count of Saint-Gilles, older and wiser with experience and very reliable in council, surrounded by his Provencal soldiers, burst forth. When our men saw the enemy army face-to-face, they wondered where in the world such an infinite number of people had come from. Turks, Arabs, and Saracens stood out among the others, both in number and in nobility; there was a smaller number of auxiliaries and people from less illustrious nations. There you would have seen the heights of the mountains and the slopes of the hills grow dense with this profane mass, and all the plains were covered with countless throngs. And so our leaders exhorted their men, "If you have devoted to God the army in which you now serve, if you have given up your countries, homes, wives, children, and your bodies, and if these bodies have only survived to be offered for the glories of martyrdom, how, I ask, can you be terrified at this sight? The wisdom of one of you, derived from faith in God, is more powerful than the superstitions of this entire heap of rabble. If death is to be your lot, the heavenly kingdom and a joyful death await you; if you remain alive, and persevere in your faith, certain victory awaits you, and after victory, glory, and after glory, greater courage, and then great opulence from the enemy's treasures. Whatever happens, you will be secure, you have nothing to fear; no delay or doubt should stand in your way. Therefore surrender your minds and bodies to the faith of the Lord of the Cross, and take up arms against this pile of husks, these little creatures who are hardly men at all." Then they drew up their battle lines in an orderly fashion, with great-hearted Bohemund on the left flank, together with the count of Normandy, valiant knight, Tancred, and Richard who was called "of the first city." The Bishop of Puy, however, moving through the mountains from enemy territory, was surrounding the Turks; count Raymond rode on the left flank. On the right flank, Duke Godfrey, Robert of Flanders, Hugh the Great, and the other warriors, powerful because they took up their positions on behalf of Christ. Oh good God, who knows men's thoughts, how many tears were shed for you during these preparations! How much pious remorse and how many pious confessions rose up out of the minds of all of these men! Who could judge adequately how much sensitivity was in the hearts of all these men whose hopes were placed only in You? O Christ, with what grief did holiness and sinfulness cry out to you. They wept, and called upon pious Christ with their pious sighs, when, lo, all the soldiers crossed themselves; I do not say that they were as brave as lions, but, what is more fitting, brave as martyrs, bearing the banners against the enemy throng.

The Arabs, Persians, and ferocious Turks soon fled; the savage people showed their backs to the Christians. It was a rout, and the wretched army ran in all directions; the Arabs ran like rabbits. Prodigious was the slaughter of the fleeing army; we hardly had enough swords to do all the killing. Swords became dull with cutting so many limbs; they cut men down the way reapers cut wheat with scythe. Here they cut a head, here a nose, here throat, here a pair of ears; a belly is sliced open; everyone in their path dies. Hands become stupefied, arms grow stiff with gore. No one resists them and remains alive; lassitude overcomes the infidels. Their breasts blindly receive the baneful assault.[131]

The number of enemy defeated is said to have been 460,000, not counting the Arabs, whose number was too great to be counted.[132] At first, indeed, crying out in despair of their lives,

they ran in fear to their tents,[133]

where they seized what they could with their hands and fled. For a whole day our men pursued them very closely, piling up the spoils they took from the fleeing enemy; and so, after drawing considerable amounts of blood, they took comfort in the copious sums of money, in the precious garments, and in the herds of cattle which they took from the fleeing men. From the third until the ninth hour the destruction, or rather Arabian slaughter, of this battle raged. Two leaders of distinguished name, Geoffrey of Mont Scabieuse, and William, brother of Tancred, and many others whose names are entrusted to the notice of God alone, died there. Here we can clearly see the signs of Christian power; and if we marvel at the inequality of a battle between so few men and so many, we must attribute the results entirely to the aid of Christ. For if in the ancient text it is said of the Jews who had not yet separated from God, "one will pursue thousand, and two will put to flight ten thousand,"[134] then it seems to me no less true of this victory, since human understanding cannot hope to fathom how so many men could be defeated by so few. But perhaps someone may object, arguing that the enemy forces were merely peasants, scum herded together from everywhere. Certainly the Franks themselves, who had undergone such great danger, testified that they could have known of no race comparable to the Turks, either in the liveliness of spirit, or energy in battle. When the Turks initiated a battle, our men were almost reduced to despair by the novelty of their tactics in battle; they were not accustomed to their speed on horseback, nor to their ability to avoid our frontal assaults. We had particular difficulty with the fact that they fired their arrows only when fleeing from the battle. It was the Turk's opinion, however, that they shared an ancestry with the Franks, and that the highest military prowess belonged particularly to the Turks and Franks, above all other people.

While they were being defeated in this manner, and were fleeing day and night from the face of the Franks, the prince who ruled Nicaea, [135] frightened out of his mind, after the siege had ended, happened to meet a group of ten thousand Arabs, who said to him, "O least of men, why are you fleeing in miserable fright?" He replied, "I thought that I had destroyed and killed every last Frank, and I thought that I would deliver them to eternal captivity; I assumed that I would conquer them as they moved forward in small groups, and I would bind them and lead them away to distant lands. But a large army appeared, and the fields and mountains were covered with great numbers of them, and they seemed to occupy every inch of our entire land." The capture which he mentioned referred to the army of Peter the Hermit, and the multitude that followed to those who lately had subjugated Nicaea. "There, when we had seen an army of so many people, with divisions growing like wheat, against whom we judged correctly that we stood no chance of defending ourselves (for there was no safe place), we thought it best to escape imminent death by fleeing swiftly. Although we are now at some distance, nevertheless we are shaken by the terrible memory of those men whom we saw, and the momentary encounter has left us frightened of their ferocity. If you have any faith in my report of what happened, you will retreat from this place because, if their forces find you here, you will undoubtedly pay for your folly many times over." They decided that what they heard was credible, quickly reversed direction,[136] and scattered all over Romania.

Meanwhile our men were intent on pursuing the fleeing Turks, who, when they passed through cities and forts, boastfully proclaimed that they had conquered the Franks, thus deluding the inhabitants of the lands through which they traveled with lying words. "We have defeated the Christian armies," they said, "and deprived them of all desire for combat. Therefore let us into your cities, and welcome gratefully those who go to such lengths to protect you." Then they entered the cities, stripped the churches of their ornaments, carried off the wealth of public buildings, and set about carrying off gold and silver, various kinds of animals, and whatever else might be of use to them. For this purpose, they abducted the sons of Christians as slaves, and consigned to the flames other things that were less useful, constantly in fear of our coming up behind them. Afterward, in searching for the infidels through pathless solitudes, our men entered a deserted, pathless, waterless land, from which the pitiful men emerged scarcely alive. They suffered from hunger and thirst; nothing edible could be found, but the cruel deprivation seemed sometimes to be relieved by rubbing their hands with the spikes.[137] Certainly many noble knights died there, and the desert, to which they were unaccustomed, took the lives of many horses. The feeble succumbed to the relentless hardship. The great lack of horses and carts compelled them to use cattle, goats, rams, and what is more amazing, dogs, to carry whatever supplies were appropriate to their size. From there they moved on to a province rich in what they needed, and they reached the city of Iconia,[138]famous for its tolerance of Paul and his writings. Meanwhile, the inhabitants of this province urged our men to provide themselves with supplies, and to bring water in bags with them, because they would not be able to find any water on the entire next day's journey. They did so, and moved on until they reached the bank of a river, where they rested for two days. And so those who made up the vanguard reached Trachias, [139] where a large Turkish phalanx had assembled for the sole purpose of finding a way to trouble the army of Christ. When our men came upon them, they attacked them with their usual boldness. The enemy swiftly took flight, like an arrow launched from a cross-bow. [140]

Thus our men, now that the gate was open, entered the city and they remained there for four days. There Tancred, Bohemund's nephew, and Baldwin, Duke Godfrey's brother, left the encampment of the army, not out of a desire to avoid fighting, but because of the ardor of their spirits, and they entered a certain valley, which they call in that language Bothrentot. And so Tancred, uncomfortable with partner, separated from the duke's brother, and, together with his men, attacked Tarsus, renowned for the precious birth of the special apostle[141]. Turks from the city rushed out to battle our men as they approached, but, as they were about to join battle, they sought refuge in the city from which they had come. Tancred gave rein to his horse in pursuit of the enemy, and set up his camp in position that blockaded the gate of the city. Baldwin soon arrived to besiege the city, set up camp on the other side, and asked Tancred if he and his army might share in the taking of the city. Tancred angrily refused, since he wanted control of the city and the trophies of victory for himself alone. And so night fell, and the crowd of Turks, uncomfortable with the siege, and well aware of the strength and persistent nature of the besieger, fled in haste. When they had been forced out, those who remained in the city, the Gentiles of that land, which is to say those who were Christians, came out to our men during the night, and cried out, "Franks, hurry, enter the city, since the alien race has fled, so great was their fear of your strength." At dawn, the leaders surrendered the city, and when they learned that there was a fight about who should control the city, they said, "We choose to rule over us the man whom we saw yesterday battling so fiercely with the Turks." Baldwin instantly urged Tancred that they enter the city together, so that each might set about taking the spoils with all his might. Tancred wisely replied, "Our plan was to fight the Turks, not to rob Christians, particularly since they have voluntarily chosen me, and do not want anyone else." Although he had said this, Tancred took into account the fact that Baldwin's army was larger and better supplied, and yielded to him, willingly or unwillingly, for the moment. During his retreat two very fine cities, Athena[142] and Manustra,[143] yielded themselves to him, together with many castles.

Since no chance to talk about Baldwin may offer itself later on, I wish to insert a few details about how well things turned out for him. Near Edessa, a city in Mesopotamia, as we understand from reports of people who have been there, a certain man became leader[144] and ruled over the Christian province as a duke, protecting it from the incursions of Gentiles not by arms, but by paying protection money. Worn out with age and illness, with a wife as old as he, and without children, when he heard that the Franks were at the borders of Mesopotamia, he very much wanted to find someone from among the Frankish nobility to adopt, who, in exchange, would defend with arms and strength the land that he had defended only with money. One of the knights of his household, aware of his desire, happened to be speaking with Baldwin. When he aroused the hope of obtaining the dukedom if he permitted himself to be adopted by the above mentioned old man, the count believed him and, accompanied by the knight, he went to Edessa. Welcomed even more warmly than he had hoped, he was adopted as a son by both. The method of adoption, in accordance with the customs of this nation, is said to have been like this: the old man directs him to strip himself naked and put on linen inner garment, which we call a chemise, and he embraces him, and confirms the entire transaction with kiss; both the old man and the old woman do this. When this was finished, the citizens perceived that the old man had been stripped of the high honor, and they made a secret pact immediately to besiege the court in which he and Baldwin were staying. They remembered whatever harmful things the old man had done to them. And so during the siege, when his newly adopted son wanted to fight back with Frankish boldness, the old man, admirably faithful, prevented him, saying that he knew for certain that he could by no means be delivered from the hands of the mob, while Baldwin would be in great danger if he took up his defense. Thus after many imprecations he persuaded him not to fight back, and when tearful Baldwin said that he would prefer to die with him, the old man pushed him away, and pleaded with the besiegers to kill him if they wished, but to spare the new prince. And they did in fact kill him, but in the meantime Baldwin, with great effort, managed to hold on to the power he had gained by adoption and, mindful of the recent treachery, brought in Frankish knights and servants for his own protection, little later, at Christmas, another conspiracy was formed, to kill the new duke on that holy day. The attempt did not remain hidden from Baldwin, who told the members of his retinue who were Franks to appear in church wearing their cuirasses and helmets, as though prepared for battle; foot-soldiers were to bring their lances, swords, and battle-axes, and to move about everywhere in their gear. When this had been done, the inhabitants of the city understood that the ruler had been alerted, and he himself proceeded to the church with a large contingent of armed men, participated in the divine service, yet said nothing that day. But the next day he called the citizens of Edessa together and charged them with treason, compelled them by law to confess, and did not permit them to deny what they had proposed to do. And so, after the leaders of the entire city had been convicted, some had their feet cut off, some their hands, others their ears and noses, others their tongues and lips, and all of them were castrated and sent into exile in various distant places. Finally, when no one remained who might incite the crowd against him, Baldwin experienced the rewards and happiness of such a dukedom. Thereafter he led a prosperous and rich life, ruled several cities, among which Seleucia[145] stood out as the best known since antiquity. After the death of his brother Godfrey, who had ruled at Jerusalem, Baldwin moved from this dukedom to that of Jerusalem, but from this he derived no increase in earthly felicity, but only more blessed labor in the service of God—that is, continual battle against the Gentiles.

The Third Book of the Deeds of God by the Franks Ends.

BOOK FOUR

I think that no one can justifiably ridicule me for undertaking this task. For although I did not go to Jerusalem, and to this day am unacquainted with many of the people and places, I think that these conditions in no way hinder the general usefulness of what I do, if the things which I have written or shall have written have been taken from men whose testimony is endowed with truth. If anyone objects that I did not see, he cannot object on the grounds that I did not hear, because I believe that, in a way, hearing is almost as good as seeing. For although, "What has been thrust into the ears stirs the mind more slowly than those things which have appeared before reliable eyes,"[146] nevertheless, who doubts those historians who wrote the lives of the saints, who wrote down not only what they saw with their own eyes, but what they drunk up from what others have understood and told them? For if the narrator is reliable and, as one reads, "testifies to what he saw and heard,"[147] then stories told by those who speak the truth about events no one has seen are clearly acceptable as true. If there is anyone who objects, and who despises this undertaking, he has the option, if he wishes, of offering corrections. Whoever is displeased with what we have done may write his own version.

Thus the Lord's army, led by Raymond, Count of Saint-Gilles, Bohemund, Godfrey, and many others, entered Armenia, rejoicing at the possibility of Turkish attacks. On their way they took a fort which was difficult to approach, so that any attempt to attack it seemed futile. A pagan of that district, a certain Symeon, well known for having Christian surname, asked our leaders for control of that area, so that he could guard it against Turkish attacks. They did not refuse the favor he requested, and he remained there, intending to guard the land. Then our men moved on and reached Cappadocian Caesarea.[148]After they left the province of Caesarea, they reached a very lovely, wealthy city,[149] which the Turkish army had been besieging for three weeks before the arrival of our army. But their siege produced no results. When our men approached, the citizens voluntarily surrendered the city. A certain knight called Peter of the Alps asked that the leaders grant him the right to protect the region in the name of the emperor of the Greeks and of our own leaders. His request was willingly granted, since the meritorious fidelity of the petitioner was well known. As the day then drew to a close, Bohemund heard that a large but insignificant group of the enemies who had earlier besieged this city was moving ahead of our men. And so, taking with him only his immediate retinue, he set out in pursuit, but did not find those whom he sought. Now the army reached a town called Coxon,[150] where they found great abundance of useful supplies. The inhabitants of this place happily opened their gates to our men, and for three days fed them properly and well.

After the count of Saint-Gilles heard that the Turks, who usually supplied the garrison for the city of Antioch, had left the stronghold, he sent part of his army ahead to take possession of the city and to maintain control of it. He chose four men from among the leaders of his army, of whom three had the same name, that is, Peter, and the fourth was called William of Montpellier, a man well know among us for his feats of arms, and he gave them 500 knights to lead. And so, not far from the above-mentioned city, they entered valley and in that valley found a fort, and there they heard that the Turks, with a large army, were in control of the city of Antioch, and in addition they learned that the Turks were making great preparations of men and arms, to defend themselves against the French, in case they attacked. Therefore one of those Peters we named above, whose surname had been derived from a place called Roaix, separating himself from his companions, entered a valley of a town named Rugia, [151] where he found Turks and Saracens, with whom he fought. After killing many of them, he pursued the others. The Armenians took notice of this and, pleased with the man's bravery, and impressed by his unusual boldness against the Turks, surrendered voluntarily to his command. Quickly thereafter he was given control of a city named Rusa[152] when its inhabitants capitulated, and several other forts surrendered to him. The rest of the army departed from Coxon, the city we mentioned, and marched through high mountains along incredibly rocky paths so narrow that no one could pass the man in front of him, but each man had to proceed one step at a time, stepping carefully, in single file. A deep gulley lay beneath the narrow, rough path, so that if a horse happened to push up against another horse, he would fall to instant death. There you would have seen armed men, who, having just been converted by the hardship and starvation of the journey from knights into foot-soldiers, were suffering wretchedly, smashing their fists, tearing their hair, begging for the relief of death, selling their shields, helmets, and all of their arms, regardless of their true worth, for three or four, perhaps five cents. When they could find no buyer, they threw their shields and other fine equipment into the gulley, to disencumber their weakened, endangered bodies. When they finally emerged from these rocks and precipices, after unbearable suffering, they entered a town called Marasim,[153] whose inhabitants came forth joyfully to meet them, bring abundant supplies to sell to the soldiers. The rich earth replenished the exhausted men, until the presence of their leader Bohemund, who was following those who were waiting for him there, was restored to them.

Finally they arrived in the plains where the renowned city of Antioch was situated, whose particular glories, beyond those by means of which she flourished in this world, are those which grew out of her Christian fame. Pharphar was the name of the river on which she was located. When our men had reached a place near the bridge over that river, some of them, who had been assigned the task of forming the vanguard of the army, met up with a large force of Turks, who were well supplied with provisions, and were hurrying to bring aid to the besieged. When our men saw them, they charged with Frankish ferocity, and almost instantly defeated them and scattered them in all directions. Like charging rams, they tore them to pieces, and the Turks threw away the arms that only moments before had been able to inspire terror. The mass of foot-soldiers fled through their own lines, in their haste and confusion wounding and crushing their own allies. The madness of pride now felt humiliation, and the man who anticipated taking pleasure in heaping up destruction upon us was now happy if he could get himself out alive, even though dishonored. Those who had come to bring aid to the besieged were turned into instant, filthy piles of cadavers. The Almighty mercifully converted what they had brought to aid the besieged into gifts for the besiegers. Thus after they had been destroyed, like grain crushed by hail, great quantities of grain and wine fell into our hands, and the foot-soldiers acquired the valuable horses, camels, mules, and asses that remained. And so our men built camps on the shore of the above-mentioned river. Bohemund, together with 4000 of his best men, undertook blockade of the city's gate, and remained on guard all that night to prevent anyone from getting in or out. The next day, the twelfth calends of November,[154] the fourth day of the week, in the middle of the day, the army arrived, set up camp, and began a blockade of three of the city's gates; the fourth gate was left free, since it was inaccessible to the besiegers because of the great height of the surrounding mountains, and the narrowness of its paths. However, not only the inhabitants, but the Turks themselves who were inside the city were so frightened by us that none of them came out to fight us. No one put up any resistance, but instead they behaved as though we had come to the market, and this pretence of peace continued, as though a truce had been declared, for fifteen days. The city was surrounded by signs that augured well for beginning this siege; fresh abundance of everything necessary to sustain life was vividly present; I am surprised that at that time the crusaders found abundant grapes hanging on the vines everywhere, wheat shut up not in granaries, but in ditches and underground pits. The trees had plenty of apples, and whatever made their lives more comfortable was supplied by an extremely fertile soil. The Armenians and the Syrians, who formed the entire population of the city (except for the Turks, who, as I mentioned earlier, were not permanent residents), since they inhabited the city itself, and were titular Christians, visited us in great numbers, and told them whatever they had learned among us. They enticed the Franks with their deceptive, repeated lies, and, whispering in their ears, using the most flattering terms, they claimed that they shunned the Turks, although they did not allow their own wives to go beyond the city limits; when they left the Franks, and were back in the city, they reported to the Turks whatever news they had been able to gather about the weaknesses of the Christian side. Thus, informed by the Syrians about our plans, the Turks from time to time rushed out from the city to sneak up upon our men and attack them as they were searching for food, and they covered over the most used paths and made unexpected attacks upon them as they sought the mountains and the sea, never permitting them to rest from ambush or open attack. Not far off was a fort named Harenc[155] in which they had placed a garrison of the fiercest Turkish warriors, who made frequent raids upon the Franks when they were unprepared. Our leaders, unwilling to suffer such affronts, sent a large force of cavalry and infantry to find out where those who were doing so much harm to their men were concealing themselves. When they found their hiding place, they at first attacked them, but then, cleverly simulating flight, they permitted themselves to be brought to a position where they knew that Bohemund was waiting in ambush. At that point, two of our men died in pursuit of the Turks. Coming out of his hiding-place, Bohemund fell upon the enemy, leading the group who appeared to have turned their backs, delivering the punishment they deserved by attacking the Turks with all his forces. He killed many of them, made others prisoners, and brought those he had captured back to the gate of the city, where, to terrify the citizens who were watching, he ordered that they be decapitated. Some of the citizens, however, climbed to the top of this gate and wore out our men by discharging so many arrows that a cloud of missiles flowed in the midst of Bohemund's camp, and one woman died when struck by one of the arrows. Finally the leaders consulted with each other, and decided to set up a fort at the top of a mountain which they called Malregard, and which, as a formidable stronghold, might serve to drive away the Turks. Thus the fort was being constructed, and there you would have seen the greatest princes laboring at carrying rocks. There no poor man might complain that he had to endure hardships inflicted upon him by the power of great men, since those who were in charge would permit themselves no rest in bringing the work to completion. For they knew by the instinct of pious nature, even if they had not read it, what Marius, according to Sallust, said, "If you behave gently, but rule the army firmly, you will be a master, not an general."[156] And when the fort was built, the leaders took turns guarding it. Christmas was near, and the grain and other food for the body began to diminish severely, and throughout the army everything that was for sale was expensive. There was no energy to go even a moderate distance to seek food; within the territory held by those who called themselves Christians almost nothing to eat could be found; no one could go into the Saracen region without large military force. Therefore, compelled by hunger, the leaders held a meeting to discuss how to deal with the danger of such a large group of men starving unless something were done for them. Finally they decided to send part of the army to search everywhere for supplies, while the others maintained the siege they had undertaken. Bohemund then said, "If, O powerful soldiers, it seems prudent to you, I, with the support of the army of the count of Flanders, shall devote myself to the effort of procuring food." The offer was accepted gratefully by the younger men, since they were worn out by greater thirst and more urgent need for food. The day after the Lord's Nativity, which was the second day of the week, had been celebrated, with what emotion and energy they could muster, the two princes just mentioned, together with 20,000 foot-soldiers and cavalry, set out as swiftly and as energetically as they could to attack the Saracen provinces. Meanwhile the Turks, Arabs, Saracens, and other Gentiles, who had assembled from Jerusalem, Damascus, Aleph, [157] and other places, with one purpose in mind, to bring aid, hastened to Antioch in large numbers. They had heard that the Christians were coming into their own lands, to gather food and other supplies; as dusk fell, they moved in formation towards the place where they had learned our men were, with an eagerness that would soon be turned to grief. They divided themselves into two lines of battle, setting the first in front of us, and moving to position the other behind us. But the count of Flanders, trusting in divine power, with the sign of the Cross fixed to his heart and body, relying confidently on the excellent count Bohemund, attacked the enemy with the courage to be expected of such men. The battle began, but from the first moment of contact, the enemy turned in flight. The battle turned into victory, and many a sharp spear shattered in the bodies of those who had turned their backs to flee. The enemy's shields were battered by long ashwood lances that were struck with such force that they dwindled into slivers. No helmet prevented a head struck by the edges of the Crusaders' swords from being wounded; and they found the stitching of their so-called impenetrable cuirasses too fragile. Armor protected no part of the body; whatever the barbarians thought firm was weak; whatever the Franks touched shattered. The field was covered with innumerable corpses, and the thick pile of dead men disturbed the evenness of the grassy field. Everywhere the earth, sprinkled with the hateful blood of Gentiles, grew dark. Those who survived the carnage we inflicted saved their lives by their speed afoot, and were pleased to unburden themselves of their spoils, not out of generosity towards us, but to increase their speed. Our state of mind changed utterly: fear changed into courage, battle into victory, mourning into joy, hunger into plenty. He who was naked now had clothing, those who were on foot now had chariots, the poor man had money, the man who had been cast out now danced with gratitude and joy. While these things were going on, the fact that Bohemund and the count of Flanders were not present at the siege was not hidden from the Turks who were in control of Antioch. Made more confident by their absence, they came out, though cautiously, to challenge us in battle more often, trying to find out where the besiegers were weakest. Finally, seeing day, the third day of the week, that seemed apt for trying their courage, they made a sudden assault, and killed many of our foot-soldiers and knights, who were caught unaware. The magnificent bishop of Puy lost a mainstay of his court, the man who was his standard-bearer, who was among those who perished. Had not the the river upon whose banks their camp was pitched separated them, the carnage among the Christians would have been very great. Meanwhile, Bohemund was on his way back, having pillaged the Saracen provinces; he was traveling through the mountainous area in which Tancred was staying, thinking that there he might be able to find something to help the men besieging Antioch. Although some of our men had carried off whatever they could see, many found nothing at all, and returned empty-handed, that is, without anything that could be eaten. Bohemund, however, never without a plan, when he saw them wandering about unsuccessfully, spoke these words, "If you are looking for material with which to sustain life, if you want to provide adequately for the bodily needs dictated by hunger, then while you search for food do not risk your lives. Stop scurrying through the pathless mountains, since you know that your enemies are preparing hidden traps for you in these horrible, desolate places. Let the army move forward united, for each is made stronger by the presence of the other, so that if one part is attacked violently, the other may offer assistance. For even as a sheep, if it escapes from the shepherd's grasp, is exposed to the wolf's jaws, so the knight, if he wanders forth alone from the tents of his companions, invariably becomes a plaything for plunderers. Therefore remain together with each other and with your men, and rather eat very little food than feed upon rare delicacies in permanent captivity. To go out and come back together, to take pleasure in being together, to do nothing rash, these are the things that sensible men do; anyone who wanders away wishes to die." He spoke, and returned to his companions, without enriching the besiegers in no way by his return. But the clever Armenians and Syrians, when they saw that the army's food was running out, and there was nothing left to buy, traveled about among all the places that they knew, bought grain, and brought it back to the army that was suffering from a lack of supplies. They sold the grain at inordinate prices, so that the amount of grain a single ass could carry brought eight of their besants, which they called "purpled," approximately 120 sous. Clearly those who could not possibly pay such a price were in great danger of succumbing to a terrible crisis of hunger. And if the leaders were already becoming hard pressed to pay such price, what could he do who, for all his previous wealth, was now all but a pauper?

Great torture had come upon them lack of food was crushing them; the madness of hunger laid low the highest by exhausting their strength. Bread was far off, and they had neither the meat of cattle nor of pig: the hands of the indigent had torn up the grass far and wide. Whatever food they had finally had disappeared. Their limbs were weak, and they had lost heart. The skin of those who had nothing to eat was stretched with dreadful swelling. Without nourishment their strength ebbed, and they died. A brief torment delivered those who were killed in battle, but those who were hungry were tortured at length; therefore protracted death brought them a greater reward. Clearly angelic bread fed those who rejoiced in the finest reward for their sufferings, the more they bore the burden of agonies. Others fought, struggling to endure various misfortunes, and scarcely anything went in their favor; they preferred unhappiness to joy. Now they struggled to follow Christ, bearing a double cross, rejoicing that they had surpassed His commands, who had imposed upon them only one cross. Hideous hunger gnawed at their weak hearts, and their dried-up stomachs cracked open; suffering racked their bowels, and destroyed their thinking. Disease ate away at their minds, already attacked by the ferocity of battle, and both day and troubling night threatened slaughter. Their minds were sharp although their strength was slight; their illness refreshed the energy of the soul, and they did not fear to go forth to shed blood.[158]

Meanwhile, William, who was called the Carpenter, not because he was a craftsman in wood, but because he prevailed in battle like a carpenter, by cutting men down, and who was from beyond the Seine, powerful in words, but less so in action, magni nominis umbra, "the shade of a great name,"[159] a man who set out to do things too great for him, but finished nothing, who when he set out for Jerusalem took from his poor neighbors the little that they had to provide himself shamefully with provisions for the journey, this man, I say, unwilling to suffer hunger, while he could see others much needier than he remaining faithful, silently fled. His reputation in war was for boasting only, and not for deeds done. In Spain, when a Frankish expedition took place against pagans who had come from Africa, he, whose boldness was entirely confined to words, retreated like wretch, leaving countless men stranded by his flight. This probably took place by the will of God, so that divine judgment may show that those men whom public repute has made famous are worse than everyone else, and less capable of bearing difficulties. Nor is this evident in his case alone, but it is very clearly the case among others, whose names I shall pass over, that those whose reputation for martial ferocity among us had been pre-eminent became weaker than rabbits when they took their place in the Lord's army. The more their conduct deviated from the true path, the more contemptible it should be held. While they were here in France, fighting unjustly, making beggars with their criminal looting, they clearly should have been afraid that their souls would undergo certain damnation; but there, where they had every chance of eternal life, their sinful cowardice was evident.

Then, like the stars that, according to the Apocalypse (VI.13; VIII. 10; IX.1) were seen to fall from the sky, Peter, the celebrated Hermit about whom we spoke previously, also foolishly fled.

Why do you follow this plan, Peter? Why do you forget the meaning of your name? If Peter is originally "stone," which designates something solid, what do you mean by thinking of flight? Stone cannot easily be moved. Stay your steps and recollect your old hermitage, your earlier fasting. You should have joined your bones to your skin,[160] you should have stretched your stomach with the least roots, fed it with the grass eaten by cattle. Why do you remember immoderate eating? That is not the monastic rule, nor what you learned from the woman who gave you birth; or let your own teachings drive you. Even as you compelled people to go on this journey, and have made them into paupers, so you should go before them, carrying out the commandments that you have taught them. Once he abstained from grain, eating only fish and wine. For a monk, more pious food would be leeks, cress, turnips, cardamum, nuts, filberts, barley, lentils, and herbs, without fish or wine, but with crumbs of bread.[161]

And so the refugees from the pious siege and from the holy suffering were pursued by Tancred, a man steady in the pursuit of Christ's business, who followed and caught them; and, as was right, heaping abuse on them, he brought them back. He placed no faith in their promises to return until each had sworn on his faith to return to the sacred army and to submit to whatever judgment the leaders might make about their desertion. Therefore William, willing or unwilling, was compelled to return, and he was brought to the court of the magnificent Bohemund, outside of which he remained awake all night. The next day, at dawn's early light, he was led into the presence of this fine prince. To Peter, covered with the shame he had earned for himself, the leader said, "Although the name of the Frankish race, stands forth with regal majesty everywhere, and although France, the mother of virtue and resolve in accordance with God's will has sent forth men who until now have been the most morally unblemished, she bore you, you, useless babbler and most impure of all men, to her own disgrace and infamy, as though you were some kind of monster. O good Father of all things, what kind of Carpenter did we have, who, like construction worker with a pick axe, hacked away, with lances and swords, at the backs of the Gentiles? See how the craftsman has worn out a thousand swords with the strength of his blows, and single-handedly slain the pagan people while we merely rested. Where is that haughty firmness, that quickness with words that was nourished at the Loire and at the Seine, which has resulted in so little action, but in so much steady, thundering speech? Alone, he had been able to aid the laboring moon,[162] yet, foully sluggish, he has done nothing useful whatever. Certainly it is in accord with your great strength that the man who had betrayed the people of the Lord in Spain exert himself in Syria to achieve the full measure of honor. Let it be so. Certainly it suits you to do nothing else; in this way you will receive the most generous reward for behavior that has been so wretched." Now his derisory speech began to make the Franks who were standing there feel shame, and with difficulty they restrained the angry man from speaking. Tempering his severity, the illustrious man spared the wretch, and was content to exact from him the oath to continue the journey to Jerusalem, whether prosperity or penury attended them. And William promised that Tancred, who had prevented him from escaping, would henceforth be his friend, if he decided to behave in a manly fashion. After these words were spoken, they came to mutual agreement. A short time later, that remarkable Carpenter, who, when he was out of harm's way, once threatened to be executioner to the Turks, forgot his oath, and that profligate of fidelity did not hesitate to flee furtively again. However, let no one be surprised that the army, although pious, had suffered such want, since it is clear that, with the great crimes they had committed, they struggled against receiving the divine gifts which would have been theirs had they behaved properly. Such need afflicted them, and they were so horribly overcome by lack of food, that if any of our men happened to move any distance from the army, anyone else from the army who found him alone would kill him, even for the slightest gain. Such utter devastation raged among our men that scarcely thousand horses could be found in so great an army; everyone was in beastly agony from a lack of food, which did not prevent, but rather inspired some men to criminal actions. Tortured by divine punishment, many of them were brought to remember their true selves by repenting; despairing of their own strength, they were driven by hope for something better to rely on God alone, the only true support in such tribulation. Under these circumstances they learned increasingly that the more they watched their supplies diminish and their strength ebb away, the more they were taught to submit with appropriate humility to God, for whom they believed all things possible.

Moreover, one of the delegates of the tyrannical emperor, whose name, unless I am mistaken, was Tetigus, and who was present at this siege, was a man heavy with age; his nose had been cut on some occasion or other, and for this reason he had a golden nose. A skilled liar, compelled by fear of the Turks as well as driven by the danger of starvation, he addressed the leaders: "Necessity compels your excellency, O finest of leaders, to recognize how hard pressed we are by internal suffering, and how much we are goaded on by external fears. Since battle threatens us outwardly, while hunger insistently gnaws at us inwardly, there seems to be no refuge for us anywhere, no solace that would permit us to catch our breath. If in your wisdom it seems appropriate, grant me permission to go back to Byzantium, and I shall see to it that grain, wine, wheat, meat, cereal, cheese, and various other necessary items be brought here by a large fleet. I shall also see to it that constant commercial traffic in these items will be established by imperial decree. By land, all of Greece will send to you horses and whatever other animals and supplies may be useful. The emperor himself, who has not known of your great need until now, as soon as he hears of your distress, will provide aid to you in your great need. And I myself swear to carry out faithfully what I have promised; and when I have finished these tasks I shall certainly not be afraid to present myself here again to undertake the labors of this siege. If you fear that I am leaving your camp because of hunger, lo, my tents and my men shall remain here with you. Although I am leaving them for a while, I shall not be able finally to value them lightly." He spoke, and charmed the ears of the leaders with his smooth, elaborate speech. Then he left, not at all fearing what punishment his perjury might incur. Having fabricated a complete lie, he never afterwards gave thought to what he had promised.

The presence and strength of the enemy began to constrain us so greatly that none of our men presumed to leave his tents or the encampment for any business whatever. In addition, within the camp, famine, like a madness, plagued them. For if, as they say, "nothing does more harm than hunger wrung from the unwilling," what suffering do you think they endured, to what crosses were they constantly condemned, without a single, even false, consoling hope, as they laid siege each day to the impenetrable walls? The ordinary people, eaten away by poverty, wandered through various provinces; driven by the lack of food, some began to wander towards Cyprus, others to Romania, while others made their way to the mountains. But the frequent forays of the Turks had closed off the road to the sea. In short, there was no exit for our men.

When Bohemund heard that a very large army of Turks was approaching the Crusaders' camp, he called the other leaders together and said, "Since the very small part of our army that remains seems insufficient and too weak to fight single battle, nor can it be split into two parts to carry on two battles, we should consider, if we are going to fight the attacking Turks with whatever kind of army we can muster, which soldiers to leave to continue the siege of the city, and which to defend our tents. Therefore, if it seems reasonable to you, let us assign the best part of the finest infantrymen to guard the besieged city; in our judgment, the strongest knights should be put up against the madness of the Turks." He spoke, and none of the leaders spoke against his plan.

The enemy army now set up camp near the fort called Areg, which was close to the city, across the river Pharphar. The day was ending, and Bohemund, having summoned the entire army, came out of the camp and quickly set up camp between the river and the lake next to it. In the morning he swiftly instructed sentinels to determine the size of the Turkish forces, as well as what they were doing and where they were located, and then to report to him as quickly as possible. They had advanced a short distance and begun to search out the enemy, whose advance could be clearly heard, when they saw an infinite number of soldiers, divided into legions of two battalions, appear before them. They were followed by very large group of foot-soldiers. As soon as they saw them the sentinels returned: "The enemy," they said, "is at hand; see to it that they find you strong and prepared." Then, to stir up his brothers in Christ and fellow-soldiers, Bohemund said, "O finest knights, your frequent victories provide an explanation for your great boldness. Thus far you have fought for the faith against the infidel, and have emerged triumphant from every danger. Having already felt the abundant evidence of Christ's strength should give you pleasure, and should convince you beyond all doubt that in the most severe battles it is not you, but Christ, who has fought. In the face of any attack, what desperate folly can enter the mind of you who have thus far, with God's assistance, escaped harm greater than any men have ever encountered, and who have achieved triumphs impossible for mere human beings? I ask only that you place your trust in your own experience, so that at last no human force may now resist us. Fortify your minds, proceed carefully, and strive mightily to emulate Christ, who carries your banners, as he usually does, and call upon him." They responded by shouting that they would behave faithfully, energetically, and prudently, and they entrusted to him, because he was the most experienced in battle, the task of dividing up the army; Bohemund ordered each leader to collect his liege men and to draw them up into individual battle lines. Six lines were drawn up, as he had directed, each to attack the enemy in separate formations, and five of them cautiously marched forward. Bohemund followed behind with his own group, to offer help if needed. Drawn up in this manner, closely packed and filled with courage, our troops went forth to fight, each man encouraging the other by his close presence, so that no one, to the extent that it depended upon each individual, would allow the conflict to falter.

Swiftly the enemy came forth with curved spears; as their courage grew warm, they pricked their horses with their spurs, and the air was shaken with wild clamor on both sides. The battle-lines clashed, the Turks threw their javelins, the Franks thrust their weapons through the breasts of their enemies. Swords grew dull from striking blows, the collision of steel made a splitting noise. The swift right hand, thirsting for the filthy blood, inflicted sword wounds. Like a line of flying crows, like a countless flock of thrushes, thus the arrows blocked the celestial light, crowding and darkening the air with the hail of spears. Arms resounded, horses were caught up in the charge, bronze echoed. They grieved for the losses and rejoiced in the successes, making for wild discord.[163]

When the entire force of the army behind the vanguard poured into the hideous strife, the sharpness of our men began to grow dull under the fierce assault of the enemy; as their numbers grew, our men began to lose some of their previous ardor. When Bohemund, who was waiting in the rear with reinforcements, saw this, he gnashed his teeth in rage. He sent for his constable, Robert, the son of Girardus, and gave him the following directions, "Go, and make use of the courage which you should now show, and which is right for such a great task; keep in mind the purpose of this effort, and understand that our motive is to aid all of Christianity by redeeming Jerusalem for God and liberating his tomb. It is clear to you that to carry out this task divine rather than human aid is necessary. Go then, and offer your bravery for the suffering Christ, and do not let such an opportunity find you slow to act, for God may be preparing to give you great glory." Inflamed by these words, relying on God with his whole soul,

He sprung forward, and tore at the thick crowd of enemies with his sword, holding aloft the standards of the duke, which inspired such awe that wherever they appeared the spirits of our men were uplifted, and he raged like a lioness who, bereft of her cubs, kills anyone in her way. The sword carved a path, cut through the dense battalions, smashing everyone who got in the way, pointing the way for the soldiers who followed.[164]

When our men saw that the familiar standard of Bohemund was not faltering in the least, and the constable was raging with such eagerness against the Turks, they all took heart and attacked with such force that flight was the only protection the enemy could hope for. Our men fell upon the fleeing Turks, who were running at great speed, helter-skelter, and we did not cease cutting them down and decapitating their bodies all the way to the narrow bridges of the Pharphar, After such slaughter, the Turks entered the fort of Areg, which I mentioned above, looted it entirely, set it afire, and then fled, never to return to it. However, the perfidious Armenians and Syrians, who had awaited the outcome of the battle without taking sides, so that they could join the side to whom victory was granted, when they saw the Turks vanquished, moved forward and blocked the roads, killing the Turks as they tried to go by. The painful indigence of our men was somewhat alleviated with what was taken from the conquered enemy; horses and money provided relief, and even more so, our growing triumphs vitiated the Turkish reputation for fierceness. After the victory, they cut off the heads of one hundred of those who had fallen in battle, and hung them before the walls of Antioch for the besieged Turks to look at. It is, of course, the custom of the Gentiles to keep the decapitated heads and to display them as a sign of victory. While these things were going on, the Babylonian emperor sent ambassadors to the leaders of our army, congratulating them for what they had done to the Turks; in addition, he promised, although falsely, that he would become Christian, if our people would grant and restore to him what the Turks had taken from his kingdom. We had said earlier that the Babylonian empire was far more powerful than the other eastern kingdoms, but that the Turks, more ferocious in arms and in spirits, had usurped much of their territory. Those who had remained to maintain the siege of the city had fought bitterly with the inhabitants, not merely at one point, but at every gate of the city. This triumph occurred on the fifth day before the Ides of February,[165] the day before the beginning of the fast. It was right that on the day before Christians were to fast they grew fat on what they most desired, the blood of their evil enemies. The Franks, in their fervent victory celebrations, thanked God for granting them so many of their prayers, and went back to their camps, loaded with booty. The Turks, on the other hand, ashamed to be seen, would have made their way, if they could, through secret passages, back to their native lands.

Then the leaders of the army, considering the many humiliations they were suffering from the attacks of the besieged people, held a meeting and decided, to prevent the chance of any diminution of their forces, to build, at the gate of the city, where the pagan temple was located, a fort by means of which they could restrain, to some extent, the enemy's forays. All the junior officers assented to this plan. Then the count of Saint-Gilles was the first to speak: "I shall provide for and protect the fort; you must help build it only." Bohemund said, "If it please you, I promise to go with this count who has offered his services, to the Gate of Saint Simeon, where we shall both supervise those who do the work. Let the others continue the siege, and prevent the enemy from getting out of the city." And so the Count and Bohemund then proceeded to the Gate, as they had proposed. Those who had remained to build the castle began to work, but the Turks made a sudden, violent attack on the beginnings of the structure. With their sudden attack they compelled our men to flee, killing many of them, bringing a day of grief to the Franks. The next day the Turks learned that some of our leaders had left the siege and gone to the Gate of Saint Simeon. They prepared a large force and quickly moved to encounter those who were returning from the Gate. When they saw the count and Bohemund, together with a large military force, coming towards them, they began to shout and utter hideous noises. They surrounded our men on all sides, inflicting terrible wounds on them, hurling spears, firing arrows, and savagely killing them. Their attack was so severe that our men scarcely were able to escape into the nearby mountains, or wherever else escape seemed possible. Those who were, in manner of speaking, swifter than winged horses, escaped; anyone whom the swift pagans found slower, however, died. In this disaster, as it was considered, a thousand of our men perished; those who were found, because of their proven faith, to be acceptable, received glorious rewards after death for their sufferings. For those who needed to expiate their sins, the outpouring of blood alone was the most potent way to purge their guilt. In great anguish because of such a misfortune, and separated from his companions because he had taken a shorter road, Bohemund, with a few of his knights, whom he found banded together, returned to the siege. Driven to distraction by the death of so many of their own men, sobbing bitterly, crying out to Christ, they moved out against those who had inflicted such pain upon them, and reached the field of battle. Confident because of their recent victory, the cohorts of the enemy stood firm, expecting to perform exactly as they boasted they had performed against Bohemund and the count. Against these proponents of evil the loving God in his mercy arranged proper remedy for his suffering people. Therefore these famous men, moved by grief and compassion for their dead brothers, with the sign of the Lord's cross fixed on their foreheads and in their hearts, hurled themselves with all their strength against the enemy. As soon as they saw this, the enemy fled towards the Pharphar river, intending to cross the strait. In their hasty flight the mass of men was jammed together in the attempt to cross, and as the wedge of knights and infantry piled up in a very small space, struggling to pass each other, men knocked each other down. Our men watched all this very carefully, and when the crowd of fugitives seemed to thicken, a fall was more effective than a wound. If any man fell into the water and tried to get out either by hanging on to the columns of the bridge, or by swimming to dry land, our men located on the shore forced him back into the water to drown. The signs of carnage were so great that the Pharphar seemed to flow with blood, not with water. The sounds made there by the vanquished and the victors, by the dying and by those who were forcing them to die, were so terrible that the highest vault of the heavens seemed to resound with their shrieks. The air became clouded with arrows and other kinds of missiles, and the brightness of the solar globe was covered by a shower of flying spears. The women of the city who were Christian stood on the ramparts of the wall, feeding upon the sight; as they watched the Turks perish and submit to calamity they groaned openly, but then turned their faces away and secretly applauded the fortunate course events had taken for the Franks. The Armenians and Syrians, although they were Christian, were compelled to fire arrows at us; some even did so willingly. Twelve of the principal enemy leaders, called "satraps" in the Chaldean language, and "emirs" in the barbaric tongue, fell in battle on this occasion, as well as many others, amounting to perhaps 1500 of the wealthiest and most important people, upon whom the entire defense of the city rested. Those who survived the carnage no longer hurled their customary insults at our men; their boisterous, scurrilous chattering ceased. On that day their daily joy was turned into grief.

Then oncoming night separated the enemies; strength and arms dropped from their agitated minds.[166]

This victory for us resulted in an apparent dimunition of their strength and force, and their derisory remarks entirely ceased. Moreover, the short supply of many things whose lack pressed our men was amply replenished, thanks to God's benevolence. At daylight the next day, some of the Turks came forth from the city to collect the bodies of their dead; they found some, but others had disappeared, carried off in the bed of the river. They buried those they found in the temple called the Mahometry, on the other side of the Pharphar, near the gate of Antioch. In these tombs they buried cloaks, gold besants, bows and arrows, and many other utensils that I shall refrain from describing. When they heard about these funeral ceremonies, our men armed themselves and entered the cemetery, broke open the tombs, took out the bodies, heaped them up and dropped them into deep pit. Then they decapitated them and had the heads brought to their own tents, in order to calculate accurately the number they had killed, with the exception of the bodies that the ambassadors of the Babylonian emperor transported on the backs of four horses, as evidence of the victory won over the Turks. When the Turks saw this, they suffered more bitterly from the uncovering of the bodies than from the killings themselves. Now they did not restrain their grief with a few modest tears, but, putting aside all shame, they screamed in public agony. Three days later they began building the fort mentioned above, with the very stones they had taken from the tombs of the Gentiles that they had broken open. When the fort was finished, the besieged town began to suffer exceedingly, and their discomfort became even greater. Our own men were now free to go where they wished, and even the mountain paths, which previously had been treacherous, were now favorable for searching for food. With all the roads shut off to the Turks, one section near where the fort and the temple next to the fort were located, seemed to offer the possibility of entering and leaving the river. If we properly equipped this fort, which belonged to us, none of the enemy could have hoped to have found a way out. A meeting was held, and the leaders decided that they would choose one of our men to guard the fort, to fortify it carefully, and to defend it faithfully, so that the pagans might be kept from wandering through the mountains and fields, and might be cut off from entering or leaving the city. When they were looking for someone fit for such task, Tancred, who earned and still deserves the title of wise young man in the Lord's wars, unable to restrain himself, broke in at this point, saying:, "If I were to know what future advantages for me might result from the present hard task, then I might undertake, carefully and with the aid of my retinue, to strengthen this fort, and I shall try to block our enemies from moving along the roads they are accustomed to use." Pleased with his generous offer, the leaders immediately promised to give him 400 silver marks. Displeased with the offer, which seemed not to match the magnitude of the task, Tancred nevertheless agreed; and so, lest he be considered cowardly if he refused, he gathered his knights and clients quickly and resolutely, took charge of the fort, and cut the enemy off from the possibility of getting out through the city's gates. By this means he inflicted upon them the greatest scarcity of food for their horses, as well as a great dearth of wood and other necessary items. This outstanding man chose to remain there resolutely, cutting off all traffic, and he set about surrounding the city and setting up a vigilant blockade. On the very day on which he entered the fort, a large group of Armenians and Syrians came through the mountains, bringing supplies of all sorts to the besieged city. This superb knight, to ensure that the task he had begun would have positive outcome, intercepted them, compelled by God more than by his own boldness, and seized a great amount of grain, wine, oil, and other no less necessary supplies. The good man could no longer complain, that while he was carrying out such a holy task God was forgetful of him, but he had learned, for the first time, from this remarkable good fortune that he would never again lack bodily necessities, and that he would not lack eternal reward from God, after His earthly assistance. The Turks were entirely prevented from leaving the city or moving around outside the walls, but were compelled to make do with what they could find within the city walls, until Antioch was under siege.

In the course of this siege the strength of Christian law flourished greatly, and, if anyone was convicted of a crime, he submitted to the severe judgment of the leaders of the army. Moreover, sexual crimes were punished with particular severity, and this was just. Those who were surrounded by atrocious deprivations, who seemed to be exposed to the swords of the enemy every day, if God were not protecting them, should not have been at the mercy of lustful thoughts. And how could pleasure enter where the fear of death was ceaselessly present? So it happened that merely speaking of a prostitute or of a brothel was considered intolerable, and they feared dying beneath the swords of the pagans if they committed such a crime. If any of the unmarried women was found to be pregnant, she and her pimp were submitted to hideous punishments. A certain monk of the most prestigious monastery, who had fled from the cloister to go on the expedition to Jerusalem, moved not by piety but by whim, was caught with a certain woman, and convicted, if I am not mistaken, by a trial by fire. Then they were stripped naked and led, by order of the bishop of Puy and others, through all the nearby camps, and beaten in the cruellest fashion with whips, to the terror of the onlookers.

The above-mentioned bishop of Puy assiduously exhorted men to be more patient in their sufferings and more careful about their vices; he let no Sunday or holiday go by without preaching the authority of holy writ through every corner of the camp. He enjoined every priest, bishop, abbot, and cleric whom he met and who seemed educated, to do the same.

It seems to me worthwhile, since the word "abbot" has made its way into my work, to tell about a certain abbot who, when this journey was first proposed among our people, finding himself without sufficient funds for the pilgrimage, cut into his forehead by I know not what means the sign of the cross, which ordinarily was made out of some kind of material and affixed to clothing. It did not look as though it had been painted on, but as though it had been inflicted, like stigmata received in battle. After he had done this, to make the trick look authentic, he claimed that an angel had appeared to him in a vision and placed it there. His hopes were not disappointed; when the restless crowd, always avid for novelty, heard this story, the man was innundated with gifts, both from people in and from people outside of his own region. Such a trick, however, could not be hidden from the eyes of those who looked at him carefully, because a slimy liquid seemed very clearly to ooze from the forcefully inscribed lines that formed the cross itself. Finally he set out on the crusade, was present at the siege of Antioch, displayed what he had fabricated, although others had seen through it for some time, and did not hide his intention to gain money. He behaved well there, and was very useful in instructing the Lord's army. He wished to emulate God, but he did not do this the way a wise man would. He was so outstanding that after the capture of Jerusalem he was made abbot of the church of the blessed Mary in the vale of Josaphat,[167] and later was made archbishop of Caesarea, metropolis of Palestine. It is an indubitable fact that had the solace of the divine Word not been administered with great frequency to them, their patient perseverance would never have survived the hunger and hardships of war. Therefore we may say that those among them who were circumspect in their lives and endowed with wisdom were not less but more valuable than those who fought the enemy in hand-to-hand combat. He who provides encouragement that strengthens a wavering mind certainly is greater than the person to whom his exhortation provides strength, especially when the advisers and the advisees share the same suffering.

What shall I say finally about those who, on this same expedition, were sanctified in various places by becoming martyrs? They were not only priests, learned men, but warriors, and ordinary people, who had had no hope of confession, but were called to this glorious fate. We have heard of many who, captured by the pagans and ordered to deny the sacraments of faith, preferred to expose their heads to the sword than to betray the Christian faith in which they had once been instructed. Among them I shall select one, a knight and an aristocrat, but more illustrious for his character than all others of his family or social class I have ever known. From the time he was a child I knew him, and I watched his fine disposition develop. Moreover, he and I came from the same region, and his parents held benefices from my parents, and owed them homage, and we grew up together, and his whole life and development were an open book to me. Although he was already an outstanding knight, he was a singularly expert warrior, but entirely free from sexual vice. He was well-known at the court of Alexis, the emperor of Constantinople, for he often traveled in his service. To consider his manner of living: although he had been blessed with wealth by fortune, he was considered to be unusually generous in giving alms; he attended divine services so regularly that he seemed to lead a life more like that of a bishop than a knight. When I recall his steadfast prayer, his pious words, and his generosity in giving gifts, I am extremely pleased with his holy purpose, but also with my own good fortune in having known him. I witnessed him perform acts that entitled him to nothing less than a martyr's death. I certainly take pride, as all those who were able to know him may take pride, in having known him, since I do not presume to say that I was his friend. Whoever saw him knew without a doubt that he had seen martyr. Captured by the pagans, who demanded that he renounce the Christian faith, he asked these unbelievers to delay until the sixth day of the week. They readily agreed, thinking that his stubbornness would be altered, and when the day arrived, and the Gentiles in their madness pressed him to agree to their demand, he is reported to have said, "If you think that I have put off the sword hanging above my head because I wanted to enjoy a few more days alive, and not because I wanted to die on the day on which my Lord Jesus Christ was crucified, then it is fitting that I give evidence of how a Christian mind thinks. Get up, then, and kill me for the example that you want, so that I may restore my soul to him for whom I die, who on this day gave his own life for mankind." Having said this, he stretched his neck out to the sword that hung over him, and when his head was cut off, he was carried to God, whose death he had longed to imitate. His name was Matthew, as his name indicates, "given to God."

BOOK FIVE

In addition to the spiritual reward this little work of mine may bring, my purpose in writing is to speak as I would wish someone else, writing the same story, would speak to me. For my mind loves what is somewhat obscure, and detests a raw, unpolished style. I savor those things which are able to exercise my mind more than those things which, too easily understood, are incapable of inscribing themselves upon mind always avid for novelty. In everything that I have written and am writing, I have driven everyone from my mind, instead thinking only of what is good for myself, with no concern for pleasing anyone else. Beyond worrying about the opinions of others, calm or unconcerned about my own, I await the blows of whatever words may fall upon me. And so let us take up what we have begun, and calmly bear the judgements that men bark at us.

We do not think it possible for anyone to tell what happened at the siege of Antioch, because, among those who were there, no one can be found who could have seen everything that happened everywhere in the city, or who could have understood it entirely in the order in which it happened. Since we have already briefly touched upon the privations and misfortunes of war that they suffered, it now seems proper to pass on to how they managed to end the siege, and what the fruits of such labor were.

One of the Turkish leaders in the city was called Pyrrus; having become familiar with Bohemund by some means or other, he began communicating with him by frequent messengers, and they often informed each other about what was happening on both sides. As their friendship grew, kindled by their steady conversations, little by little Bohemund began to propose that the city, over which the Turk had significant power, be surrendered to the Christians, and that he accept Christianity. He promised him, if he did these two things, that he would receive greater wealth, along with greater honor than he had ever had. After these offers had been made not once, but many times, attracted by the reward, he consented, and wrote a letter like this, "I am in charge of three towers: I shall hand them over to you; at whatever hour you please, or whatever time is convenient, I shall gladly permit either you or whomever you wish to enter them." Hope now began to lift Bohemund's spirit greatly, and while he waited to enter the city, his handsome face shone with inward pleasure. Fearing that, at the moment the city was being betrayed, one of our leaders might seize control of the whole city for himself he cleverly called the leaders of the army together.

"It is no secret," he said, "O excellent peers, what starvation, what cold, what harsh vigils you have had to endure while besieging this city; clearly a deadly weariness, for which there is no known remedy, has descended equally on all of our people, the highest, the lowest, and those in between. I ask you to hold a meeting among yourselves, to consider whether you will give power over this city to one of us, if he is able to obtain its surrender. It seems to me right, if someone, whether by force, or in secret, or by bribery, manages to gain entrance, that everyone categorically agree to grant him rule over the city." The attitude of the leaders was very much at odds with Bohemund's; with angry frowns they said, "It is not right that, after the work and the fear have been shared by all, and undertaken without seeking the honor of reward, and when danger has hung in an equal balance over all, that rule over the city, struggled for so long and through so much pain, by so many great men, should be granted to any one man. For who does not think it just, that, since the struggle raged for everyone, the rest and his own share after the victory rightly belongs to everyone." Unhappy with these developments, weighing in his troubled mind what he had heard, Bohemund left. Suddenly, news came to the leaders that an innumerable army, formed from among the barbarous nations that were their enemies, was forming to come to the aid of Antioch. After a swift change of mind, they called a meeting, and said to each other, "Should Bohemund take the city by some trick, we might permit him to possess it, with this one condition: if the emperor supplies the help he has promised us, and carries out with matching generosity what he has offered and sworn to give us, we must ourselves hand over the city to the emperor's jurisdiction. Should he fail us, the entire city will be given over to Bohemund, as he requested." When he found out what they had said, the splendid man was reassured, and repeated his imprecations to Pyrrus every day, seducing him with promises and praise. "Lo," he said, "fine Pyrrus, you see that opportunity smiles in the working out of these matters. Therefore, I say, do not delay, lest you lose what we have labored together for, because it is discovered, God forbid, by someone." Pleased with Bohemund's message, Pyrrus promised that his efforts would in no way be delayed. And, lest the effect of the daily delay create anxiety in the noble man, Pyrrus secretly sent his own son to Bohemund, informing him that he faithfully looked forward to the surrender of the city. "Tomorrow," he said, "at the first light, collect the entire force of the Franks army, with horns blowing, and order them to proceed some distance from the encampment, as though they were going to make one of their usual raids on Saracen territory; but then bring them back immediately through the mountains on the right. I shall wait inside the city for your return, ready to admit immediately into the towers which seem to be under my control those whom you choose to send. Bohemund eagerly hastened to carry out the plan he had heard; summoning one of his retainers, he ordered him to carry out the office of herald, circulating throughout the Franks' camp, telling them to prepare themselves with the greatest care, as though they were proceeding into the land of the Saracens. Without delay, the wisdom of the servant carried out the command of the leader directly, nor did the men of France refuse to comply. At last Bohemund told the joy in his heart to duke Godfrey, to the count of Flanders, to the count of Saint-Gilles, and to the bishop of Puy; trusting the promises of Pyrrus, he said that Antioch would be surrendered to him that night. Therefore, when the army was drawn up in the order we have described, the knights were ordered to march through the plain; the band of foot-soldiers marched through the mountains. Throughout the night they marched, and before dawn offered its first rays, they stood before the towers over which the blessed traitor vigilantly stood watch.

When Bohemund got down from his horse, he spoke to the Franks with a tone of unusual authority, "Go forward, and breathe free of the anxiety which you have long endured; climb the ladder built for you; let me detain you no longer—seize the city you have been hoping for so long. Long under subjection to the Turks, it will now surrender, God willing, to your custody." The Franks reached the ladder, which was attached and very firmly tied to the walls of the city, offering a way to ascend to the sixty men who, when they reached the towers, were given authority over them. However, because so few Franks had climbed up, Pyrrus, waiting, and anxious, not for our men but for himself, as became very clear later, feared that the outcome of the betrayal he had undertaken would lead to his own destruction, and he cried out brusquely in Greek to those near him, "We have too few Franks." With these words he eagerly called upon Bohemund to proceed quickly, before the inhabitants knew that the Franks were assembling. But certain Lombard servant, understanding that Pyrrus was complaining about the absence of Bohemund, hastened as quickly as he could to the man who was being sought, "Why," he said, "are you behaving so foolishly? Why do you carry out such an arduous task so slowly? See how we now have obtained control of three towers; why do you watch the doubtful outcome of this affair from a distance? Wake up, move your forces, place yourself in the midst of the action." Very swiftly now he hastened with his men to the ladder, and he revived the hopes both of the good traitor and of those who had already climbed the wall. Immediately those who already occupied Pyrrus' towers, waiting for the Franks to assemble from all sides, began to shout with great joy, "God wishes it!" Those who were standing before the walls, about to climb up, shouted the same thing with all their might. With great competitiveness each tried to climb the wall first; once up the ladder, they took over the towers, and others, as quickly as possible. Whoever stood in their way was put to death; among those who died was Pyrrus' brother. Meanwhile a ladder broke, and the great crowd of our men below, and those who had preceded them, were sorely troubled; those on the top of the wall feared that they were cut off from aid, and those at the bottom feared that those who had climbed up could not receive support. But great effort quickly made a way. There was a hidden gate to their left; it was not remarkable that it could not be seen at night; even during the day it was hardly ever seen, since it was located in a place where there was little traffic. By tapping the wall, however, impelled by urgent need, they found it; immediately they ran up to it, and opened it by breaking the hinges and locks, making an entry for the Franks, who rushed in.

You would have heard the whole city shaken with terrible roar. While some rejoiced in the completion of such a task, others wept at the unlooked-for destruction of their prospects. Neither the victors nor the vanquished showed any moderation or self-control. Bohemund ordered his standard, easily recognized by the Turks, to be placed on top of a certain mountain, in full view of the citadel, which was still resisting, to make the city aware of his presence. Wailing and shrieking filled the city; while throngs pressed through the narrow streets, the brutal, bloody shouts of the victors, eager to kill, resounded. As they recalled the sufferings they had endured during the siege, they thought that the blows that they were giving could not match the starvations, more bitter than death, that they had suffered. The same punishment inflicted upon the hordes of pagans was justly meted out to the treacherous Armenians and Syrians, who, with the aid of the Turks, had eagerly and diligently pursued the destruction of our men, and our men were, in turn, unwilling to spare them painful punishment. And yet I say that they would have spared many of them, had they known how to make a distinction between the natives pagans and those of our own faith. In the confusion of the moment and of the action (it was night, and eagerness to capture the town and impatience with delay incited everyone), perhaps nothing permitted distinguishing foreigners by their clothing or beards. A terrible neglect covered the thinness of the weary cheeks of our men, who, continually prepared for battle, worn out by continual traveling, had stopped shaving their beards in the Franks' manner. The bishop of Puy noticed this, and to prevent mutual slaughter in case they confronted each other in battle, (each thinking the other a Turk because of the beard), ordered them to shave often, and to hang on their necks crosses made of silver or of some other material, so that no one, mistaken for a foreigner, would be struck down by a comrade. In the morning, those who had remained in the tents heard the tumult in the city, and came out. They saw Bohemund's standard fixed on the lofty mountain, in front of the walls of the citadel, which had not yet been captured. They quickly ran towards the gates of the city and broke in, cut down the Turks and Saracens whom they found there, while those, however, who had fled into the citadel, escaped death. Some of the Turks, having learned that the Franks had taken control of the city, escaped through other gates of the city. Within the city, however, no one was spared because of sex; young children were killed, and, since those weak with age were not spared, there can be no doubt about the ferocity with which those who were young enough to be fit for battle were killed.

Meanwhile, fearing capture by the Frankish forces, and wishing to purchase his life by running away, Cassian, who was in charge of the city of Antioch, together with several of his leaders, took refuge not far from Antioch, in an area occupied by Tancred. Exhausting their horses by the speed of their flight, unable to proceed any further, they turned aside and stopped at a small house. When the inhabitants of the mountains, Armenians and Syrians, found their greatest enemy hidden, at the mercy of fortune, in a poor hut, they recognized him at once, decapitated him, and brought the severed head as a gift to Bohemund, expecting that they would obtain their freedom from him in exchange for the unusual gift. His baldric and the scabbard of the sword they took from him were estimated to be worth 60 besants. These events occurred on Thursday, the fifth of June. Then you would have seen the city overflowing with bodies and with intolerable stench. Markets, public places, the porches and vestibules of homes, which once were adorned with beautifully polished marble surfaces, were now completely stained with gore. Infinite numbers of corpses heaped up everywhere, a horrible spectacle, and the savagery of the foul air, horribly infected both the eyes and the ears. The narrow streets were strewn with deep piles of stinking bodies, and since there was no way to carry off so many dead, and there was no escape from the smells, the constant sight and stink made men used to the horror. Thus habit led to audacity, and no one feared to walk down the streets filled with bodies.

Therefore Kherboga, the mayor of the palace or rather the leader of the troops of the king of the Persians, whom they were accustomed to call Sogdianus,[168] the name of previous king of the Persians (as the Romans are accustomed to call their leaders Caesars), while he was still within the kingdom of Persia, in the province called Khorasan (some say that this land derives its name by corruption from the name of the land around the Caucasus), was summoned by frequent messengers from Cassianus, the ruler of the city of Antioch, to bring help to him in his beleaguered position. Cassianus promised that, if he drove off the Franks, he would either turn over to him the liberated city, or provide him with a gift equal to his great labor. When the general, enticed by this promise, had put together a huge army, and had asked for and received permission to kill the Christians from the chief pontiff of their heresy (for even they have their Pope, in the likeness of ours), he quickly set off to relieve the siege of Antioch. The prefect of Jerusalem (whom they call in their barbaric language "emir") also immediately increased the invading forces with his own army, which was, in turn, augmented by the considerable forces of the king of Damascus. The pagans recruited by the infidel prince, in addition to the Turks, Saracens, Arabs, and Persians (who are already familiar to historians), bore new names: they were the Publicans, the Kurds, the Azimites, and the Agulani, together with innumerable others, who were by no means human, but monsters. Three thousand of those who were called Agulani were said to be present, and they were afraid neither of swords, lances, arrows, nor any kind of arms, because they and their horses were covered with armor everywhere. In battles the only weapons they used were their swords. Kherboga therefore, with the great arrogance of the pagans, strove to drive the Franks from Antioch. As the prince approached the city, the son of the dead Cassian, Sensadolus by name, met him, and, with great sadness, said to him, "Since your strength is widely renowned, and the victories of you and your people are everywhere judged to be incomparable, certainly my hope for your aid will not be disappointed, O most victorious of men. No one denies the worth of your judgements; because of the brilliance of your deeds, your power is worshipped everywhere; therefore I need not be ashamed of lamenting my misfortune in your presence. I know for certain that I am not begging in vain for the things for which I ask. Your excellency remembers that you received ambassadors from my father when Antioch was being besieged, and that, while you were deciding to come to his aid, you heard that the city had been captured by the Franks. Now my father is dead, and I am besieged in the citadel of the city, undoubtedly awaiting the same fate that overtook my father. If they have invaded Antioch, and have done the same to many cities and towns of Armenia and Syria, they undoubtedly intend to do the same thing to you and to others of our race. May your excellency carry out with all your force what you have undertaken against these vicious men, so that the usurpations intended by these most wretched of men may be thwarted. For me, in this crisis, you remain the last hope." In response to these laments, Kherbog replied, "If you want my help in these present dangers, turn over to me the city which you are defending and for which you are pleading, and after I have put my men in charge of the citadel, then you will find out what I shall do on your behalf." Sensadolus replied, "If you kill the Franks for me, and bring me their severed heads, I shall let you into the city; then I shall swear allegiance to you and as your liege rule the citadel." Corboran said to him, "You will not behave like that towards me, but will hand over the city immediately." What more? The demand of the infidel ruler prevailed, and the young man, surrendered control of the citadel to him who wrested it from him, but who would not long enjoy his power.

On the third day after the Franks had broken into Antioch, the vanguard of the Turks had appeared before the walls of the city, while the rest of their vast army set up their tents at the Pharfar bridge. First they attacked the tower closest to the bridge, and after they had captured it with very great effort, they killed everyone they found within in it, sparing only the commander of the tower, whom our men found, after a later battle against them, chained in irons. The next day the army hurried towards the city, chose a spot between two rivers for their tents, and remained there for two days. After capturing the fort whose commander, as I said, was put in chains, Kherboga summoned one of his officers, whom he knew to be wise and trustworthy, and gave him the following orders, " Go and defend the fort for me, with the fidelity that you owe me, and which I expect of you." He replied, "I shall have difficulty carrying out your command in this matter, but I shall carry it out on the condition that, if the Franks are victorious, you permit me to surrender the citadel to the victors." Kherboga replied, "I trust your discretion and your faithfulness in this matter, and shall firmly support whatever you choose to do." After the fort had been provisioned, the ill-fated prince returned to his camp, where some of his Turks, having stripped a poor foot-soldier of his arms, brought them to Kherboga to make sport of us. The sword was filthy with rust, the bow was black as soot, the dull lance was covered with the smoke of many years. Joking, they said to him, "Here are the weapons with which the Frankish army will defeat us." Smiling, Kherboga said to them, "Will they depopulate the East with with these shining, powerful arms? Will the far reaches of the Caucasus submit to these men? Will the unarmed Franks be able to take away from us the lands which the Amazons once held, and which our ancestors once claimed?" He spoke, called scribe, and said, "Write as quickly as possible the same letters on different pieces of parchment, so that they may be sent throughout the provinces of Persia, to our Pope, to the lord and king of our Persians, to the governors and to our military peers in the different areas." This is the tenor of what he wrote:

To the magnificent lord and king of the Persians, to the blessed Pope, and to all of those sworn to fight a holy war against the Christians, Kherboga, prince of his army, wishes health and victory. Fathers and lords, I am grateful that the supreme divinity continually provides us with good fortune, and offers us victory everywhere over the enemies of the people. We are sending you three weapons which we have taken from the Franks, so that you may see what with what equipment those who wish to drive us from our country fight. I would like you to know that I am besieging the Franks, who intend to destroy us, in the very city, Antioch, which they have just captured. I am in possession of the lofty citadel in the heart of the city. Since I can either put to death those who are shut up there, or place them in abject captivity, I do not want you meanwhile to be tortured with worry out of concern for us, but I want you to know that we are completely in control. Therefore give yourselves up to pleasures: in greater security than that to which you are accustomed, eat the finest foods; lie with multitudes of wives and concubines to propagate the race, so that the increasing number of sons may oppose the Christians, whose number now grows. I swear by the high Thunderer, that I, protected by the blessed Mahomet, will not appear before the eyes of your majesty until I have subdued the royal city, that is, Antioch, as well as neighboring Syria, the Greeks and the Epirites, whom they call the Bulgars, and I have conquered the Apulians and Calabrians as an additional ornament to your glory. Farewell.

Kherboga's mother, who lived in the city of Aleppo, came to him at this time, and sadly offered him counsel: "I would like to know whether what is said of you is true." Her son replied, "What is that?" She said, "They say that you are going to fight the Franks." He replied, "Absolutely true." She said, "Son, best of men, I dare to appeal to your native nobility not to fight them, lest you mar your reputation. Since the brilliance of your arms gleams as far as the furthest reaches of the Indian Ocean, and remote Thule resounds with your praise, why would you soil your weapons with the blood of poor men, whom it does not pay to attack, and from whose defeat you can gain no glory? Since you can compel distant kings to tremble, why harm wretched foreigners? My son, I say that you rightly despise them as individuals, but you should know for a fact that the authority of the Christian religion is superior. Therefore I beg you not to attempt something that you will later regret having undertaken." When he heard what she had to say, he looked at her with anger in his eyes and said, "Why do you weave these old wives' tales? You are raving, I suggest, insanely pouring forth words without understanding. All the men in their army do not amount even to the number of noble leaders from the cities who are fighting under my command. And do you, in your insanity, think that Christian presumption will obscure my power?" She said, "Oh most dearly beloved son, I place little value on the names of the people about whom we are speaking, but I beg you not to shun their leader, Christ. Perhaps they themselves do not have the power to fight you, but victory is certain for their God, if he wishes to prevail. He customarily defends his own men, though they be weak and ignorant, purely for his own glory, and watches over and protects them, whose shepherd, or rather redeemer, he says he is. Do you think that he who has looked after the empires of his faith, who has thus far granted them victory over us, is incapable at this very moment of easily overturning our efforts? For it was said to him by the Father, as though to a God about to rise again from the dead, 'Arise God, and judge the earth, for you will inherit it among the nations of men.'[169] Therefore, if he judges the earth, he sees and sets apart some from the mass doomed to destruction, while others he condemns, and he takes as his inheritance not all nations, but only a portion of the whole. May your foresight hear, my son, how severely he punishes those whom he permits to be ignorant of him. The prophet David says, 'Pour forth thy wrath against the nations that have not known thee, and against the kingdoms that have not cried out thy name.'[170] You do not condemn these Franks because they are strangers and you are gentiles; you do not reject them because their arms are humble or because they are impoverished; but rather you hate in them the name of Christ. Certainly He who is despised in them will fight for them, if necessary, with overflowing anger. If he has promised them with prophetic mouth that 'the name of God will be praised from east to west,'[171] for he is said to be exalted not over the Jews, but over all nations, and by the mouth of God himself it was said that the people who had not been his people were now his people, and those who had not been loved were now loved,[172] and what had been among the Jews was transferred to all nations by the grace of adoption, and among the rest of them the face of the God of the Jews was provided, then who except a madman would dare attack the sons of God? I predict that if you fight them, you will bring upon yourself great discomfort and shame. You will undergo certain military defeat, enrich the Christians with booty taken from you, and you yourself will run off in ignominious flight. Even if death does not wait for you in this battle, you may be certain that your life will end within a year. Their God does not take immediate vengeance when a crime is done, but defers the punishment until the crime itself has come to full fruition. For this reason, my son, I fear that you may be increasing the horror of your death by delaying it." Stunned by his mother's miraculous eloquence, pale and weakened by the announcement of his impending death, Kherboga replied, "And you, I would like to know how you came by this knowledge, how you have discovered that the Christian people will use its strength against us, that they are about to triumph in battle over us, that they will despoil us, and that I shall die a sudden death within the year." She said, "Son, we know that nearly one hundred years have gone by since it was discovered in certain secret books of a pagan sect that the Christian people would rise up against us in battle and subjugate us entirely, setting up their kingdom where we now exercise dominion, so that pagans would be subject to those of the true faith. But our knowledge was not clear in this respect: we did not know whether it would come about now or after a long time. I then diligently studied astronomy, examining innumerable possibilities, until, checking them against each other, I learned that we would inevitably be conquered by Christian men. For this reason I grieve for you with all my heart, because I have no doubt that I shall soon be deprived of you." And he replied, "mother, I would like you to explain some things about which I am uncertain." She said, "ask, so that you will not be in doubt. Whatever I know you will know immediately." He said, "Tell me whether Bohemund and Tancred should be considered gods or men, and tell me whether they will bring victory in battle to the Franks." She replied, "Son, Bohemund and Tancred are like us, subject to mortality, but because they fight for their faith, they have merited glorious renown, for God helps them. They declare that God is the Father, whose son, made into a human being, they worship in the same manner, and they believe that both are the same in the unity of the holy Spirit." He replied, "Since you testify, O mother, that they are not Gods, but merely human beings like us, no more doubt remains, and we may try our strength in battle."

Therefore, understanding that her son, intent on fighting with the Franks, was unwilling to heed her advice, the mother collected whatever supplies she could gather and, spurned by her son, retired to the above-mentioned city of Aleppo. And so, three days later, Kherboga took up arms, and a large group of Turks approached the city with him on the side where the fort they had recently captured and fortified was located. Our men, however, judging that they could resist them, set up lines of defense against them, but the number of Turks was so great that our men did not have the force or boldness to resist. Therefore they were compelled to retreat into the city, but, as they were entering the gate in crowded flight, the entrance proved too narrow, and many were crushed to death. It was the fifth day of the week, and some outside the city were attacking the gate, while others continued to battle the inhabitants inside the city until evening.

But because Christ knew once and knows now whom he has chosen, some men who, so to speak, were not of the kind by means of whom salvation would come to Israel,[173] when they saw that they were surrounded by the Turkish army,

and that the day's battle was scarcely ended when night came, they grew fearful and panic-stricken, aware only of their imminent death. Petrified, each saw his own life hanging before him, and in their frightened minds the men saw Turks already before them, about to strike them with deadly spears. Each lost faith in his own ability to fight, and therefore turned his mind to flight. Those who gave up hope in God made a filthy descent into the foul sewers, a worthy place for those who were giving such a bad example to the troops. The crawling cowards made their way to the sea, with the skin from their hands and feet torn away, and their bones stripped of flesh by the sharp rocks. Like Paul the doctor, who escaped from Damascus by means of a wall,[174] they showed that the sewers were fitting for them.[175]

Among those who retreated were a certain William of Normandy, nobly born, and his brother Alberic, sent to school early, who became a cleric, and then, out of passion for fighting, dropped away from the church and foully, like an apostate, became a knight. I would name the towns from which they came, were I not constrained by my close friendship with some members of their family to limit my remarks, thereby protecting them from shame. A certain Guido Trossellus, well known for his power and influence in cities across the Seine, and who was considered remarkable by the whole race of Franks, was the standard-bearer for the escape. There were other deserters from the holy army also, who, when they came back to their native land, were held in contempt and denounced as infamous everywhere. Some of them we do not know; others we know very well, but we prefer not to humiliate them.

They came to the port which is called the gate of Saint Simeon, where they found boats and sailors, and they asked the sailors, "Why are you waiting here, unhappy men? You should know that all those to whom you customarily bring food are about to die, for the city and those within it are besieged by an army of Turks, and we scarcely escaped from their onslaught with our naked bodies." Stung by the dire news, they hesitated, stunned for a long time, and then placed all their hope in flight.

They got into the ships and sought the depths of the sea.[176]

Almost immediately afterwards, as their prows began to move through the waves, the Turks arrived, killed everyone they found there, burned the ships they found riding at anchor, and despoiled the bodies of those whom they had killed. After those base men, fleeing from divine assistance, had escaped through the foul places we have mentioned, those who had chosen to remain were no longer able to withstand the enemies' weapons or onslaughts. Therefore they built a wall between themselves and their enemies, which they patrolled night and day. The suffering of our men was so great there that they were compelled to eat the foulest food, the flesh of horses and donkeys.

One day, when the leaders of the army were standing before the citadel they were besieging, and were gravely worried about the misery they were suffering, a priest presented himself before them, and said, "Leaders and elders, I shall relate a vision of your excellence which, if you give it credence, may offer you some consolation, as I hope. While I was asleep one night in the church of the blessed mother of God, the Lord Jesus Christ, together with his most blessed mother and the blessed leader of the apostles, Peter, appeared standing before me and said, 'Do you know who I am?' 'Not at all,' I said. He spoke, and lo in a cloud above his head a cross appeared, like those one sees in paintings. Again questioning me, the image of the Savior repeated, 'Now do you know whom you see?' I said, 'O lord, I can recognize your identity only because I see above your neck the figure of the cross, which customarily represents your image wherever it is painted.' He said, 'you are not wrong. I am he. ' Aware of how much we have suffered, I threw myself immediately at his feet and urgently begged him to relieve the suffering of those who were fighting for our faith. 'I have seen what you have endured, ' he said, 'and I shall not now hesitate to bring you help. At my instigation you vowed to undertake this expedition; you have captured the city of Nicea with my support; under my leadership you have won many victories; having brought you this far, I have grieved for the sufferings you endured in besieging the city of Antioch, and which you are suffering even now within the city itself. However, after I raised you up with so much help and with so many victories, and I granted you victory in the city, preserving you safe and unharmed, you have behaved badly towards Christians, and have entered into filthy relations with pagan women; you have raised a foul clamor to heaven.' At this point the Virgin of unconquerable piety, always the intercessor with God for the human race, and Peter, the heavenly gatekeeper, and the patron bishop of Antioch, threw themselves at the feet of the most merciful Lord, praying and asking that He grant relief to his people. The miraculous Peter himself said, 'Your majesty remembers with what shameful things the pagans desecrated my home in this city, insulting your divinity by filling your shrines with disgraceful actions and with murder. Since you at last showed pity and expelled them, bringing joy to the heavenly kingdom, will you now relent and permit their pride to regain its former position against you yourself?' Moved by these words, God said to me, 'Go and tell my people to return with all their hearts to me, and I shall eagerly restore myself to them; within five days I shall provide the greatest help. Let them recite litanies, and let each man sing this response from *Ecclesiastes*: Our enemies have joined against me, and they rejoice in their strength; destroy their strength, O Lord, and scatter them (add here the verse)."[177] The priest then added, "If you have any doubt about what I have said, I shall submit, in the name of truth, to whatever trial you wish, gladly undergoing trial by fire or by being thrown from a cliff. If I am harmed in the test, you may add to my injuries the worst punishment you can imagine." The bishop of Puy, always attentive to church law, ordered the bible and the Cross brought forward, so that the reliability of his words might be tested by oath.

When this had been done, the leaders, after consultation, mutually pledged that neither death nor life would compel them to abandon the defense they had undertaken, no matter how difficult the circumstances. Therefore first Bohemund, then the count of Saint Gilles, Hugh the Great, Robert of Normandy, duke Godfrey, and the count of Flanders, swore with equal vigor that they would never abandon the undertaking. But Tancred swore on this condition, that as long as he could rely on the support of forty knights he would not only refuse to retreat from the siege under which they presently labored, but he would not turn from the path to Jerusalem, unless death intervened. The news of these transactions fortified the hearts of the multitude.

Before Antioch was captured, a vision of the apostle Andrew appeared to one of the soldiers, whose name was Peter, and the vision said, "What are you doing?" Stunned, he did not reply, but asked who he was. He revealed that he was the apostle Andrew. "You should know, my son, that when the army of the Franks enters the city which God will open for them, you will go to the church of the blessed Peter, my brother and fellow apostle, and there in a certain place you will find the lance with which it is said the side of our Savior Jesus Christ was pierced." Saying no more, he departed. Peter wanted no one to know about the vision, nor did he think that it was anything more than one of those deceptive dreams to which we are all regularly subjected. But during his conversation with the apostle he had the presence of mind to ask him, "Lord, if I tell to our people what you have told me to do, what reliable evidence can I offer to overcome their doubts and to convince them to believe me?" In response, the glorious apostle took him and carried him in spirit to the basilica of his blessed brother, to the place in which the lance rested. After the city had been captured, when the people of God were subjected to the tribulations which we have described, the same memorable apostle who had undertaken to preserve in every way the elaborate beauty of the home of his famous brother again appeared to the man Peter, and said, "Why have you delayed carrying out my command? Since you see your people undergoing terrible hardships, attacked by the Turks, about to fall into the depths of despair, you should tell them what you learned from me, since they certainly should know that wherever they bear this same lance, they will have certain victory." After this second warning from the apostle, Peter began to relate to our people what he had seen in the vision. However, the people rejected his words, thinking them false, since they were surrounded on all sides by misfortunes, and could in no way conceive of any hope for their conditon. Firmly relying on the authority of what the apostle had said, Peter insisted that the apostle had appeared to him and had said to him twice in a vision, "Hurry, do not delay telling the imperilled army of God, as quickly as possible, to set aside their fears and cling to their firm belief in God, who will help them. Within five days the Lord will reveal things that will joyfully relieve their hearts. If they go into battle carrying this sign before them, their opposition will quickly be defeated and will submit to them." Peter's steady persuasiveness began to have an effect, and the Christians began to urge each other to have some hope, and they began to feel some relief. They said, "We should not be so stupid as to believe that God, who has thus far given us so many victories, would now permit us, besieged while defending the true faith, having placed our trust in Him, with our souls eagerly groaning for him, to be cut down by Turkish swords. Instead, we should certainly believe that, after our long suffering, He will shine the light of pity on us, and will cast fear of Himself upon the peoples who have not sought Him out."

Then the Turks who were guarding the citadel made sudden attack on our men, trapping three of our knights at fortification facing the citadel. Then the pagans stormed out of the citadel against our men with such force that they were unable to resist. Two of the men under attack were wounded and escaped, while the third continued to defend himself vigorously against the enemy, killing two of them on the top of the ramparts, having broken the shafts of their spears, while the Turks themselves had shattered three spears in their hands. The name of this knight was Hugh, nicknamed "the Madman," and he was one of the servants of certain Godfrey of Mount-Scabieuse.

Famed Bohemund, however, scarcely able to persuade some men to attack the citadel (for of those who hid in their homes, some suffered from lack of bread, while others were frightened by the ferocity and number of the pagans), driven by great anger, ordered that the part of the city around the palace of the now dead Cassian be burned. When they saw what was happening, they fled the conflagration, some towards the citadel, some towards the gate guarded by the count of Saint-Gilles, and some towards Godfrey; each fled towards the people to whom he most closely connected. Soon the suffering was increased by a very powerful storm, and the power of the wind was such that almost no one could walk upright. Meanwhile, when Bohemund saw that the city would be entirely destroyed by the conflagration, he was seized with anxiety about the fate of the church of blessed Peter and of the Holy Mother, and other churches as well. From the third hour until midnight the raging flames turned two thousand churches and homes into dust. In the middle of the night, the force of the raging fire abated.

Meanwhile those in the citadel cruelly attacked our men, who turned back into the city, worn out by hunger; they struck our men with steady effort, and by day and by night the two sides were separated only by the length of their swords and spears. When our men saw that they were caught in a non-stop battle, and had no opportunity at all to eat or drink, even if they had had a great supply of food, they built a wall out of cement and stone, and quickly surrounded it with many machines, so that they would have a feeling of greater security. In the citadel, a group of Turks remained who would, almost continually, come out to harass our men in battle, while other Turks remained in the field, facing the fortification. On the following night, a kind of fire appeared in the western sky, falling between the enemy camps. To both sides the sight of the falling fire seemed miraculous. In the morning, the Turks left the place in which the celestial fire had fallen as quickly as possible, and set themselves up in front of the gate that Bohemund was guarding. The portent which had appeared clearly before them announced the destruction that was obviously approaching them, had they understood it. The inhabitants of the citadel, who made frequent, relentless sorties against our army, their bows always stretched, inflicted wounds and death upon our men. The Turks who surrounded the city outside, and who occupied all the territory near the walls, vigilantly blocked every entrance to the city, so that the Christians were unable to leave or to enter, except at night, and even then only secretly. The enemy had assembled here in such great numbers and with such wealth, that everywhere one looked there were only men and tents, expensive furnishings, the brilliance of variegated costumes, flocks of cattle and sheep to be eaten, and women dressed as though they were, so to speak, temples. To add to this list of luxury, young women came with quivers full of arrows, looking like a new form of the ancient Diana; they seemed to have been brought here not to fight, but rather to reproduce. When the battle was over, those who were present asserted that new-born babies, born by women brought for this purpose on the expedition, were found thrown into the grass by these women, who, in their urgent flight from the Franks, could not endure the burden, and, more concerned for themselves than for the babies, heartlessly cast them away.

In the way in which we have described, then, with Turks everywhere preventing our men from getting out, and therefore unable to procure provisions from outside, the dangers of famine took hold of nearly the entire army, and the extraordinary lack of food particularly weakened the courage of the poor people. Since the Franks, at the time that they were besieging Antioch, had prevented the inhabitants from increasing their dwindling supply of food, when they captured the city they found very little to eat. After they had used up everything they could find, a mere piece of bread cost a bezant. The scarcity of produce and of spices resulted in great hardship, and many died, their bellies bloated with starvation. About wine I shall say nothing, since no one had any at all, and he who had nothing to eat would certainly drink fruit juice. Since there was no proper meat to eat, no one finally refused to eat the flesh of horses, and the small amount of donkey meat, sought for throughout the marketplaces and purchased at exorbitant prices, was a bitter resource for many crusaders. A chicken sold for fifteen sous, an egg for two sous, and a nut for penny. If many men assemble in a place where food is scarce, everything becomes expensive. They ate a mixture of figs, thistles, and grape leaves; fruit could no longer be found on the trees; out of the leaves they made a substitute for vegetables. Wealthy men ate the flesh of horses, camels, cows, and deer, but the poor prepared the dried skins of these animals, cut them into slices, boiled them and then ate them.

Among the ancient stories of besieged cities, where might we find people who, exiles from their native land, enduring such suffering, were able to persevere as steadfastly as these men? Even the ten-year siege of Troy was often interrupted by mutually beneficial truces, during which men might recover their strength, and the earth and the sea might offer them sustenance. And even if any besieged men had suffered similar dangers, certainly they suffered to preserve their own freedom, and the defense of one's own life and country is considered more important than all other things. The crusaders, however, were driven from their native soil by no desire for personal gain, but by the intention of working for God. To deliver the church from harm, they endured the hardships of famine, rough sleeping places, long watches during the night, cold, rain, and the torment of ceaseless fear, which exceeded that endured by anyone whose sufferings have ever been recorded. What must be recognized as even more of a miracle is the fact that these men, at home in their own native lands, could scarcely endure setting up their tents as part of the king's army for three days, even when they were not forced to venture beyond the borders of their own regions. In my opinion, none of those who risked such danger could remember all of the anxieties of mind and agonies of body they had been compelled to endure. For twenty-six straight days this punishment continued.

At that time, Count Stephen of Blois, formerly a man of great discretion and wisdom, who had been chosen as leader by the entire army, said that he was suffering from painful illness, and, before the army had broken into Antioch, Stephen made his way to a certain small town, which was called Alexandriola.[178] When the city had been captured and was again under siege, and he learned that the Christian leaders were in dire straits, Stephen, either unable or unwilling, delayed sending them aid, although they were awaiting his help. When he heard that an army of Turks had set up camp before the city walls, he rode shrewdly to the mountains and observed the amount the enemy had brought. When he saw the fields covered with innumerable tents, in understandably human fashion he retreated, judging that no mortal power could help those shut up in the city. A man of the utmost probity, energetic, pre-eminent in his love of truth, thinking himself unable to bring help to them, certain that they would die, as all the evidence indicated, he decided to protect himself, thinking that he would incur no shame by saving himself for a opportune moment. And I certainly think that his flight (if, however, it should be called a flight, since the count was certainly ill), after which the dishonorable act was rectified by martyrdom, was superior to the return of those who, persevering in their pursuit of foul pleasure, descended into the depths of criminal behavior. Who could claim that count Stephen and Hugh the Great, who had always been honorable, because they had seemed to retreat for this reason, were comparable to those who had steadfastly behaved badly? The results of the action for which they are blamed were so splendid, that surely one might praise them for what they did, while the behavior of the others embarrasses all good men. Let us look carefully at those who take pride in having been present at the capture of Jerusalem; we shall see that none permitted himself to be second to anyone else in committing crimes, betrayals, and perjuries. These two, however, were known for the nobility of their previous and subsequent behavior. The others, because they had seen Jerusalem and the Holy Sepulchre, thought that they could safely commit any crime, offering their own example as a reproach to holy men who had retreated, without considering how much they themselves should be blamed for the many stinking crimes they had committed. But laying these matters aside, let us continue in the direction in which we set out.

When he left Alexandriola, his own town, the count went to the town called Philomena.[179] The capture of Antioch had been made known to the tyrannical emperor, who had quickly set out in that direction with many troops, thinking that he would undoubtedly be given the town by the Franks. When he had met the greedy emperor, who asked him about the condition of the Christian army and of the betrayed town, the count told him that the town had been captured, but he also told him that the citadel was held by the Turks. "Alas," he said, "a second siege destroys the joy of winning the city, for those who had at first besieged the Turks are now, in a wretched reversal, surrounded by Turks. I do not know what happened between them after I left." This is what the count said in secret to the prince. When the emperor heard this, he became discouraged, and summoned Bohemund's brother Guido, a man conspicuous for his martial spirit, together with some others, and described the situation to them, although he exaggerated what the count had told him. "What do you think should be done? The Franks are surrounded by a terrible Turkish siege, and perhaps have already fallen before their swords, or have been led away to different regions under the yoke of perpetual slavery. Since we do not have the ability or occasion to provide them with aid, particularly since, if we went forward, we would have to fear being killed by the Turks we might encounter, we should turn back, if this is in accord with your judgement." Having said this, the traitor was undoubtedly pleased with himself, because he had heard that those whom he hated no less than the Turks had been killed.

But Guido, having heard of the danger in which his brother and the Franks found themselves, together with the entire Norman household, began to howl with grief, launching complaints self-righteously even against God himself; they said, "All powerful God, whose judgement never errs, who never permits the unjust to triumph over the just, why have you betrayed those who, out of love for you, have given themselves over to daily torment and death, who have left their relatives, wives, sons, the greatest honors, their native land, and why have you exposed them, without the aid of your protection, to be cut down by the swords of abominable men? If it becomes known that you have permitted profane hands to deliver them to a horrible death, whom will you find willing to obey your commands, since everyone will judge you unable to defend your own people? But so be it. It may be that you want them to die for you, and that you you will crown them with glory and honor, yet even if you bestow land one hundred fold on these people, you will have brought about eternal shame among nations for the people of your own faith. You have plunged the entire Christian world into the depths of despair and incredulity, and you have provoked the worst men to display relentless aggression against your people. From this day forth no man will expect anything great from you, since those who believed themselves dearer to you than all other mortals have been subjected to such an unworthy fate. Therefore, O most gracious one, from now on why should they call upon you, when your own people will expect such a death?" Thus they expressed their terrible grief and desperate anguish, so that for several days none of the astonished bishops, abbots, clerics or laymen in the entire army led by the tyrant dared to call upon God. Guido, remembering his love for his noble brother, going over in his mind the splendid qualities of the man, expressed his inmost anguish with many a groan.