The army now began to approach towards Antioch; and it was evident, that the task which the champions of the Cross had undertaken was becoming more and more difficult, as it drew near its consummation. The host was proceeding further and further from all resources; its enemies were gathering strength and falling back upon fresh supplies; multitudes of the invaders had died, and others were each day joining the dead: little hope of fresh reinforcements could be entertained, and the flame of enthusiasm was waxing dim, while fatigue, privation, and continual anxiety were gradually bringing disgust to the enterprise. The council of leaders,[308] well aware of the increasing dangers, now issued orders that in future no party whatever should absent itself from the main body; and all considerable detachments having rejoined it, they marched on to the valley of the Orontes. Over that river a stone bridge of nine arches was the only passage: this was strongly fortified, and closed with doors plated with iron, from which circumstance it had received the name of the iron-bridge. The Turks defended this formidable position with great valour against Robert, Duke of Normandy, who commanded the advance guard of the crusading army; but on the arrival of Godfrey and the other forces, the bridge was carried, the river passed, and Antioch invested.

In the vast plain situated at the foot of the mountains,[309] the Orontes wanders on towards the sea, skirting, during a part of its course, the steep boundary which closes in the plain of Antioch from the south. On one of the bendings of the river was situated the town of Antioch, which, climbing up the hills, took within the embrace of its massy walls three high peaks of the mountain, one of which standing towards the north is separated from the others by a steep precipice, and was then crowned by a high and almost impregnable citadel.[310] The town itself, which extended in length two miles, was so strongly fortified by art and nature, that none of the active means then known seemed likely to take it by assault. The walls of the city were not absolutely washed by the Orontes; for between them and that river was a space of level ground, the breadth of which Raimond d’Agiles estimates at an arrow’s flight; but, as the river turned in its course, it approached nearer to the town, and an antique bridge,[311] which the crusaders at first neglected to secure, gave infinite facility to the Turks, both in annoying their adversaries, and in procuring supplies. On the other side, spreading from the river to the foot of the mountains, was a marsh supplied constantly by some fresh springs. Over this also was thrown a bridge, which equally remained in the hands of the infidels.

The encampment of the crusaders was conducted without any degree of military science.[312] Various points were left open and unguarded; each chief seemed to choose his own situation, and form his own plan of attack; and the most scandalous waste and profusion from the very first laid the foundation of after want and misery.

Such were the obstacles which impeded the progress of the forces of the Cross, and which might, ultimately have rendered all their efforts abortive, had not other circumstances arisen to bring about an event that their own skill and conduct would never have accomplished. It is not necessary here to describe the position of the several leaders: suffice it, that Tatin, as he is called by the writers of that day, the commander of the troops of Alexius, took up his station in a spot detached from the rest. Three hundred thousand men capable of bearing arms,[313] sat down under the walls of Antioch; and such a profusion of provisions was found, even for this immense multitude, that the greater part of each animal slaughtered was wasted, the crusaders in the wantonness of luxury refusing to eat any but particular parts of the beast.[314]

Such was the formidable appearance of the city, however, that a council was held to consider whether it would be advisable to attack it at once, or, remaining beneath the walls, to wait and see if famine would spare the work of the sword, or spring bring fresh resources to the besiegers. This opinion was soon negatived, and the attack began; but the walls of Antioch resisted all efforts. Every means then known was employed by the crusaders to batter the heavy masonry of those mighty bulwarks, but in vain. Moveable towers, and catapults, and mangonels, and battering-rams, were all used ineffectually; while the besieged, in a variety of sallies, harassed night and day the Christian camp, and destroyed many of the assailants.

The consequences[315] of their first improvidence were soon bitterly visited on the heads of the crusaders. Famine began to spread in the camp; and pestilential diseases, engendered by unwholesome food and the neighbourhood of a large tract of marshy land, in the autumn and winter seasons, raged through the hosts of the Cross, and slew more fearfully even than the arrows of the enemy. Death in every shape grew familiar to their eyes, and the thought of passing to another world lost all the salutary horror which is so great a check on vice. Crimes of various descriptions were common;[316] and the sharp urgency of famine, joined with that horrible contempt of all human ties, which the extreme of mortal need alone can bring, induced many of the crusaders, deprived of other aliments, to feed upon the dead bodies of the slain.[317] At the same time, the Turks suffered not their miseries to pass without aggravation, but kept the unsparing sword constantly at their throats;[318] while, by a number of spies, dressed in the garb of Greeks and Armenians, the garrison became aware of all the movements and necessities of their besiegers.[319] To correct the crimes of the camp, a court was instituted, with full power to try and punish; while, to prevent the immorality which was growing too glaring for endurance, the women were separated from the general host, and provided for and protected apart.

At the same time, Boemond employed a somewhat savage mode of freeing the army from the spies by which it was infested. Having detected some Turks in disguise, he caused them to be slain and roasted in his presence; declaring, that famine knew no delicacies, and that in future he should feed upon such fare. Still, however, the mortality and the dearth increased; and though an excursion made by Boemond[320] and Robert of Flanders brought a temporary supply to the camp, yet that was soon improvidently wasted like the rest, and the scarcity became more rigorous than ever. Desertion of course followed.[321] Among such a multitude, there were many whose hearts were not of that firm and all-enduring mould which could alone carry on an enterprise surrounded by such horrors and distresses. Taticius,[322] the Greek, upon pretence of searching for assistance at Constantinople, retreated with the few troops he commanded; and his example was fatal to the resolution of many others. Various bodies of crusaders abandoned the army, and found refuge in the different Christian states that still subsisted in the neighbouring countries: many tried to tread their way back to Europe; and the Count de Melun,[323] a celebrated warrior, but a notorious plunderer, attempted to quit the host of the Cross, and seek some other adventure, where personal danger was not accompanied by famine and privation. Even Peter the Hermit himself,[324] no longer looked upon as a great leader or an inspired preacher, seeing misery, death, and horror pursuing the object of all his enthusiasm, and feeling himself, perhaps, less valued than his zeal merited, was abandoned by that ardour which had been his great support. Whereas, had he been still regarded as a prophet, or followed as a mighty chief, he would probably have borne the extremity of suffering without a murmur; now, told to endure want and wretchedness as a private individual, he yielded, like the weakest of those that surrounded him, and tried to flee from the pangs which he had no stimulus to endure. Both of these fugitives[325] were brought back by Tancred; and after undergoing a severe reprimand, were forced to vow that they would never abandon the enterprise till the army had reached Jerusalem.

In the mean while,[326] the camp of the crusaders received embassies from two different and unexpected quarters. Which arrived first, or at what period of the siege either arrived, is of little consequence, and impossible exactly to determine; for on this subject, as well as every other collateral circumstance, each of the contemporary authors differs from his fellows; and the historian may think himself fortunate when he finds them agreeing even on the principal facts. The news of the progress of the Christian host had spread even to Cairo;[327] and the calif of Egypt, from whose hands Syria had been wrested by the Turks, sent deputies to the leaders of the crusade, probably more with the intent of ascertaining their real condition, and the likelihood of their ultimate success, than for the purpose of binding himself to them by any formal treaty. His messengers, however, were charged to congratulate the Latins on their progress, and to offer the most advantageous terms of union, if they would consent to act in concert with the Egyptian power. They[328] detailed the mild and liberal measures which the calif had employed towards the Christians of their country, and they engaged the leaders to send back ambassadors to the court of their sovereign.[329]

After the siege had continued some time, a most welcome aid, both in men and stores, arrived at the little port of St. Simeon, situated at the mouth of the Orontes. This town had already, for many years, served as a seaport to Antioch, which, in its high prosperity,[330] had carried on considerable trade with the Italian cities of the Mediterranean; and to it the states of Genoa and Pisa now sent a large reinforcement of soldiers,[331] and several ship-loads of provisions.

The famished crusaders proceeded towards the spot in straggling crowds, and Boemond,[332] with the Count of Toulouse, at the head of some regular troops, marched down to escort their newly arrived brethren, and the supplies they were conveying, to the general camp of the crusaders. The Turks of Antioch, however, let no opportunity of vengeance and annoyance pass unemployed. Boemond, embarrassed with a multitude of rabble, and encumbered with baggage, was encountered, as he returned through the mountains, by a large body of Moslems, who, taking him unprepared, slew a great number of the people, and put the leaders and their knights to flight. Boemond arrived breathless at the camp, but the rumour of the battle had preceded him. Godfrey of Bouillon[333] was already in the saddle; and now, joined by Raimond and Boemond, together with Hugh of Vermandois, the Duke of Normandy, and Robert of Flanders, he advanced to the top of the hills, behind which the victorious Turks were winding onward, on their return to the city.

A skirmish took place for the position on the mountains, but the Christians obtained it with little difficulty; and thus cut off the enemy from the town.[334] The Turks were forced to fight once more; but they were opposed no longer by an undisciplined crowd; and the Chivalry of Europe never displayed that almost superhuman valour[335] which distinguished them, with greater effect. Allowing even for the exaggeration of eulogy, the efforts of the knights must have been extraordinary. Godfrey is reported to have mown the heads of the Turks as a mower strikes down the thistles; and all the authorities of that day repeat the tale of his having at one blow severed an armed infidel in twain, though protected by his cuirass.[336] Every chief rivalled the other; and, beyond all doubt, several of the infidels must have fallen by the hand of each knight. While thus the sword raged among the Turkish host, many made their way to the bridge, and rushed across it in such crowds, that hundreds were thrust over into the water. On the other side, too, Boemond, with a large body of pikemen on foot, opposed their passage,[337] and hurled them at the point of the lance into the river, the banks of which were lined with the crusaders, who repelled even those that swam to land.[338] Thus lasted the fight till the sun going down put a stop to the carnage; and the Christians, with songs of victory and loaded with spoil, returned to their camp for the night. More than two thousand men, several of whom were of high rank, were left by the Turks on the field of battle: a multitude found death in the Orontes; but the number of the fallen was never correctly ascertained,[339] although the Christians, with the characteristic barbarity of the time, dug up many of the dead bodies that the Turks had buried during the night.[340]

Various efforts both from within and without were made to raise the siege, but in vain. On one occasion an immense body of Saracens, Arabs, and Turks was defeated by seven hundred Christian knights, to which small number[341] the disposable cavalry of the army was reduced. Famine, however, disease, and tempests did more to alarm and destroy the crusading force than all the efforts of the infidels. The winds[342] became so high that the tents even of the chiefs were blown down, and for some time they were forced to sleep in the open air. An earthquake[343] was felt towards the beginning of the year, and was of course considered as an omen. A comet,[344] too, blazed through the sky; but as the superstitious fancied they beheld in it the form of the Cross, this rather increased than abated their hope. In the midst of these circumstances Stephen,[345] Count of Blois, never very famous for his valour, pretended illness, and retired from the army of the crusade, accompanied by four thousand men, whom he led to Alexandretta. A more serious desertion, also, was threatened, though no design ever existed of its execution: Boemond[346] himself began to murmur at the length of the siege. He was poor, he declared: he had given up every thing in his native country for the Cross, and he could not waste his blood and treasure, and see all his soldiers fall in a siege which was to be productive of no advantage to himself. Such murmurs had their object, and might perhaps spring, in some degree, from a weak quarrel with Godfrey of Bouillon, on the subject of a tent, which had been sent to the duke by the Prince of Armenia, but which had been waylaid by Pancrates, the Armenian I have had occasion to mention in speaking of Baldwin; and had by him been given to Boemond. The Prince of Tarentum had been obliged to yield it by the decision of all the leaders; but though this was a subject of irritation, he had more ambitious projects in view.

Boemond for some time, through a proselyte Turk to whom he had given his name at baptism, had kept up a communication with the commander of one of the chief towers, on that part of the city wall which looked towards the gorges of the mountains. This man,[347] by birth an Armenian, had embraced Mahometanism, and raised himself high in the opinion of the prince of Antioch. He had in consequence received the command of the important[348] station I have mentioned, while his two brothers occupied the neighbouring towers.[349] The origin of his communication with Boemond is variously stated, but the event is the same. He was won over by magnificent promises to engage that he would admit that chief and his followers into the town when called upon.

Boemond, however, did not intend at all that the intelligence which he had thus practised within the walls should be lost to himself, and benefit others alone:[350] but knowing[351] the jealous nature of his companions, he waited patiently till circumstances compelled them to concede to him the sovereignty of Antioch, in the event of its being taken by his means. At first the proposal was rejected by the other leaders; but soon, increasing reports that an immense army, commanded by the warlike sultaun of Persia, was advancing to the relief of the besieged, induced the Christian chiefs, under the distress and despondency which affected the army generally, to concur in the views of the ambitious Prince of Tarentum. Boemond then intrusted his secret to Godfrey and the other great leaders, but it was under the most solemn promises of silence[352] on the subject; for, notwithstanding all the precautions that could be taken, it was well known that the Turkish spies infested the Christian camp. With the utmost caution all the measures were concerted for carrying the project into effect, and through the whole army the rumour was spread that the preparations made by the chiefs were for the purpose of laying an ambush for the Persian forces, that were approaching. Phirouz, the Armenian traitor, was warned that Boemond was about to take advantage of his offer; and as soon as night had completely set in, the Prince of Tarentum, with a body of chosen knights, proceeded into the mountains,[353] as if with the design of surprising the host of the Persians. Only seven hundred men, however, were selected for this perilous expedition; and marching in the dead of the night, they crossed the valleys and precipices of the rocky chain on which the city rested, and halted in a deep dell at some distance from the walls. The wind was blowing in sharp gusts, and its howlings among the gorges of the mountains prevented the tramp of the armed men from reaching the watchers on the walls. Having assembled their forces in the valley, Godfrey and Boemond explained to their followers the real nature of the enterprise they meditated. A single interpreter was sent forward, to confer with their traitorous coadjutor, and to ascertain that all was prepared. Phirouz assured him that he was ready, and asked eagerly where were the knights; being told that they were near,[354] he pressed them to advance, lest any thing should excite the suspicion of the other commanders, especially as, from time to time, men with lighted torches patrolled the wall during the night, and it was necessary that they should take advantage of the interval. Godfrey, Robert of Flanders, and Boemond instantly led the troops to the foot of the fortifications; a rope was let down, and a ladder of hides raised. At first,[355] no one could be found to mount. Unaccustomed to carry on any warlike operations during the night, a thousand unwonted fears took possession of the bosoms of the crusaders. At length, urged by the chiefs, and encouraged by Phirouz from above, one knight—which of the body is not certain[356]—began to ascend the ladder, and was followed by several others. Silence then succeeded, and temporary hesitation once more took possession of the force below: but the voices of their companions who had ascended, whispering assurances of safety and fidelity, soon renewed their courage, and many attempting to climb the ladder at once,[357] it gave way under their weight, precipitating them upon the lance-heads that were buried in the fosse. The clang of their armour as they fell was a new cause of alarm, lest the sound should reach the other towers: so loud, however, was the roaring of the wind, and the hollow rushing sound of the Orontes, that the noise was not heard by any but those immediately around. The ladder was easily repaired, and more than sixty knights had reached the top of the battlements when the torch of the patrol began to gleam along the walls in its approach towards them. Hid[358] in the shadows of the tower, the crusaders waited the officer’s approach, and before he could spread the alarm death had fixed the seal of silence on his lips for ever. The knights now descended through the staircase in the masonry, and finding the soldiers of the guard asleep, they speedily rendered their slumbers eternal. A postern gate was then forced open,[359] and the seven hundred champions rushed into the city sounding their horns in every direction, as had been agreed between the chiefs, in order that on this signal the town might be at the same time attacked from without.

It would be painful to dwell upon the scene of slaughter that ensued. The Turks were soon awakened by the shrieks of their falling comrades, and by the trumpets of their victorious foe: they ran to arms,[360] and for many hours manfully opposed their conquerors hand to hand, though all hope of victory was now over. The Greeks and Armenians hastened to force open the gates and give entrance to the rest of the army of the Cross: but, in the darkness that prevailed, many of the Christians as well as the Turks were slaughtered by the victors, who butchered all ages, sexes, and conditions, with indiscriminate rage and haste,[361] in which fear and agitation had probably as much to do as cruelty and fanaticism.

During the whole of the night the crusaders continued the massacre of their enemies; and Albert of Aix[362] declares, that the following morning they found they had slain many of their own countrymen by mistake. Such a fact is not difficult to conceive of a body of men wandering without guide through a hostile town, with the paths of which they were unacquainted. As ever follows the violent capture of a large city, the soldiery first satisfied themselves with bloodshed, and perhaps added some extra cruelties to gratify their fanaticism, and then betook themselves to plunder and debauchery; nevertheless, they committed not greater excesses than we have seen perpetrated in days not very distant from our own, by the troops of civilized nations, without the fiery stimulus of religious zeal for a palliation.

I mean not to defend the cruelties of the crusaders, but I mean to say, that they were not extraordinary in that age, or in any age that has yet passed: God only knows what may be to come. The crusaders treated the infidels as the infidels had often treated the Christians; and as Christians, unhappily, have too often treated Christians like themselves. Their plunder was not at all of a more atrocious kind than that which attends every storm; and as to the hypocrisy[363] with which Mills charges them, that writer quite loses sight of the spirit of the age on which he writes, and metes men’s actions by a standard that they never knew. The crusaders were not hypocrites, they were merely fanatics; and in the relentless fury with which they pillaged, injured, and massacred the Turks, they thought they did God as good and pleasing service as in singing praises to him for the victory they had obtained. They were fearfully wrong in their principle, it is true, but still they acted upon principle, and therefore in this they were not hypocrites.

Baghasian, the Turkish prince of Antioch,[364] fled with a part of his troops to the citadel, but finding that security could not long be found within the walls of the town, he escaped alone to the mountains, where he was waylaid by some Syrian Christians and slain. His head, with all the venerable marks of extreme age, was struck off by his slayers, and carried, with his rich sword-belt, into Antioch, where it proved an acceptable present to the rude victors.

Though much spoil[365] of various kinds was found in Antioch, little that could satisfy the cravings of hunger had been left by the Turks. They, themselves closely blockaded, had been driven nearly to want; and the Christians soon began to suffer from the very precautions they had formerly taken against their enemies. In the first joy of their conquest, too, the little discipline that ever existed in a chivalrous host was completely relaxed, and before it could be sufficiently restored for necessary measures to be taken in order to procure supplies, famine was in the city, and the hosts of the Persian sultaun[366] encamped beneath the walls.

The invasion of the Christians, the fall of Nice, and the siege of Antioch had spread consternation through the empires of the Crescent; and the monarch of Persia had roused himself from the contemptuous sloth in which he had first heard of the crusades, and raised an immense army, to sweep away, as the Moslem expressed it, the band of locusts that had fallen upon the land.

Kerboga, or Corbohan, as he was named by the Christians, the emir of Mosul, and favourite of the calif, took the command of the army; and being joined by Kilidge Asian, the sultaun of Roum, with a considerable force, proceeded at the head of about three hundred thousand men towards Antioch. He would, in all probability have reached that city in time to prevent its fall, had he not turned from the direct road to ravage the principality of Edessa, and dispossess Baldwin.[367] From thence, however, he was called, before he could accomplish his object, by the news of the Christians’ success, and in a few days Antioch was once more invested. The first attempt of the Moslems was to throw supplies into the citadel, which the Latins had hitherto neglected to attack. In this they in some degree succeeded; and the crusaders, being roused to watchfulness, took what measures they could against further reinforcements reaching the castle.

In the mean while the Christians, who had suffered what appeared the extreme of privation while assailing the very walls they now defended, were reduced to a state of famine which beggars all description.[368] The most noisome animals, the most unsavoury herbs, became dainties at the tables of the great. The horses that remained were slaughtered without consideration, and all virtue and order gave way under the pressure of necessity.

All sorts of vice became rife, and debauchery grew the more horrid from being the debauchery of despair. The Persians, encamped closely round them, had burnt the vessels, destroyed the port of St. Simeon, and cut off all communication with the neighbouring country. Nevertheless their guard was not so strict but that many of the crusaders escaped over the walls,[369] and fled to the Count of Blois at Alexandretta, excusing their pusillanimity by tales of the horrors they had undergone. Stephen of Blois, now rejoicing in his timely evasion, abandoned his comrades altogether, and with the stragglers who had joined him from Antioch, among whom were many knights and nobles of distinction, he retreated towards Constantinople.[370] By the way he encountered a large force commanded by Alexius, who was marching, not to succour the crusaders, whose condition he did not yet know, but to take advantage of their conquests. The cowardly monarch, in deep sympathy with the cowardly fugitives, turned his back upon Antioch the moment he heard of its danger, and pursued his journey towards his capital, forcing along with him a considerable body of French and Italian crusaders, who, under the command of Guy,[371] the brother of Boemond, had been advancing to the aid of their brethren. The news of Alexius’s approach had filled the hearts of the besieged with joy, and the tidings of his retreat of course cast them into still deeper despair. The soldiers forgot their honour and abandoned their posts, hiding in the houses and avoiding every thing that called them into activity. As a last resource to drive them to their duty, Boemond[372] set fire to parts of the town where they were supposed principally to linger; but hope seemed extinguished in every breast, and though the inferior troops returned to some degree of energy, yet the leaders knew full well that without succour—and no succour was near—nothing short of a miracle could save them from their distress. Within the walls they starved,[373] and died, and wasted; and they could hardly be expected to issue forth upon the enemy, when Godfrey himself, their noblest leader, and tacitly their chief, was destitute of even a horse to carry him to the battle. At the same time, from the walls of the city, the luxuries of the Turkish camp might be beheld in tantalizing splendour.[374] Gold and jewels, and rich silks, and beautiful horses, and gay seraglios, seemed rather indications of some joyous company than of a fierce besieging army. Troops of cattle, too, of all kinds, were seen feeding round about, while the acute tooth of famine was gnawing the entrails of those who stood and looked upon all the magnificence and profusion before them.

Many even of the leaders of the crusade[375] were reduced to absolute beggary, and several became completely dependent on the bounty of Godfrey for mere food, till he himself had no more to give. The people, accustomed to privation, still in some degree bore up, but the knights themselves gave way, and had it not been for the noble firmness of Adhemar, Bishop of Puy, Godfrey, Raimond, Boemond, and Tancred, the whole of the barons would have fled, and left the people to their fate.[376]

The chiefs I have named, however, never ceased their exertions. They bound themselves by the most solemn vows not to abandon each other or the cause they had undertaken; and Tancred, always the first where chivalrous enthusiasm was concerned, pledged himself by oath not to turn back from the road to Jerusalem so long as forty knights would follow his banner. At length superstition came to animate the courage of the soldiery. Visions were seen promising victory to those who endured to the last. The apostles, the saints, and even the Saviour appeared to many of the priests, who took care that their miraculous visitations should be noised abroad.[377]

Whether originating in the policy of the leaders, or in the cunning of the lower order of priests, these supernatural consolations had a prodigious effect upon people who, their reliance on every earthly means being gone, were fain to turn to heaven. Enthusiasm, supported by superstition, proved a most excellent nurse to hope. Activity, energy, resolution, returned; and the wan and ghastly herds demanded loudly to be led against the enemy. One more pious fraud[378] was destined to be committed before the troops were brought to the last resource of an almost hopeless battle. A clerk of Provence, serving under Raimond of Toulouse, sought out the chiefs of the armament, and declared that St. Andrew the Apostle had manifested himself in a vision, and had revealed to him that the lance with which our Saviour’s side was pierced, at the crucifixion, might be found in a certain spot in the church of St. Peter of Antioch. Accompanied by this holy relic the army was directed by the saint to issue forth upon the Saracens with assurances of victory.

The Bishop of Puy,[379] whose religious feelings were of too pure a kind to practise, or even countenance, such cheats, declared that the tale must be false, and several chiefs agreed with him in opinion:[380] but Raimond of Toulouse and others strongly supported the story; and the whole of the leaders soon became convinced that good policy required the lance should be found, a battle seeming the only resource. As no support could be given to the bodies of the emaciated troops, it was as well, also, to stimulate their minds as far as possible.

The lance was therefore sought for in form, and though at first it could not be discovered, because it was not there, it very naturally happened that no sooner did the clerk who had been favoured with the vision descend into the pit,[381] than the iron head was perceived, and brought up to the wonder and edification of the people. The matter being now decided, the hearts of the multitude were all enthusiasm, a great many more almost sacrilegious visions were seen, fasting and prayer, and the ceremonies of the church were used to excite and increase the popular ardour; and, in the end, Peter the Hermit was sent out to the camp of Kerboga,[382] not to offer terms of capitulation, but rather to threaten vengeance, and to bid the Turks depart. The reply of the emir was as contemptuous as might have been expected, and Peter returned with a message that would have somewhat quelled the daring of the crusaders if it had been repeated. This, however, was prevented by Godfrey, and every preparation made for a battle.

The citadel,[383] I have before said, had remained in the hands of the Turks, who had fled thither on the taking of Antioch. Its commanding situation enabled the garrison to see whatever passed in the town; and the governor being strictly enjoined to give due notice to the army of Kerboga of all the Christian movements, on the morning of the 28th of June, A. D. 1098, a black flag,[384] hoisted on the highest tower of that fortress, announced to the besiegers that the Latins were about to march out and attack them.

The army of the Cross presented but a miserable sight; the ghastly hand of famine had wrought horribly on the wan countenances of the soldiery. Of all the fair Chivalry of Europe, whose heavy horses and steel-clad limbs had crushed like the fall of a mountain every thing that opposed them, but two hundred knights appeared mounted as was their wont.[385] Those who could get them were glad to go forth upon mules and asses; some having sold or lost their arms, were furnished with the small shields and scimitars taken from the Turks; and Godfrey of Bouillon himself rode the borrowed horse of the Count of Toulouse, who was left to guard the town. In this state of wretchedness, the crusading army marched out against a splendid force, which, at the beginning of the siege amounted to more than three hundred thousand fighting men, and had every day been increasing.[386] Nevertheless, all was enthusiasm in the Christian ranks. The priests in their pontifical robes,[387] bearing crosses and holy banners, mingled with the soldiers, and, singing hymns of joy, already taught them to anticipate victory. The number of knights going to the fight on foot encouraged the common men by their presence and their example; and, in fact, though destitute of many of the physical means which had given them superiority in former battles, the valour and the self-confidence,[388] which are the soul of victory, were never more present among the Christian warriors.

Kerboga committed the great fault that has lost a thousand battles. He despised his enemy. When first the news was brought to him that the Christians were advancing, he was playing at chess,[389] and hardly rose from his game. It was only the complete route of two thousand men, whom he had stationed to defend the bridge, that convinced him the attack was serious. He thus lost the opportunity of annoying the crusaders as they defiled, and now he found his error and began to tremble for the consequences.

Hugh of Vermandois,[390] Robert of Flanders, and the Duke of Normandy, each advanced steadily at the head of his followers towards the mountains, where the Turkish cavalry were likely to find more difficulty in manoeuvring. Godfrey of Bouillon followed; and then Adhemar, Bishop of Puy, clothed in armour,[391] and bearing the sacred lance, led on the troops of Provence. Boemond and Tancred brought up the rear, and thus the whole wound on towards their position.

Kerboga now used every effort to remedy his first neglect, and made several skilful movements for the purpose of surrounding the crusaders. They, on their part, with little attention to the arts of warfare, continued to march on, their courage increasing rather than diminishing, and persuading themselves that even the morning dew of a fine summer’s day, which refreshed both themselves and their horses, was a special sign of favour from Heaven.[392] It is said, that Kerboga, at this moment seized with a sudden and unaccountable fear, sent messengers to declare that he would accept the terms formerly offered, and commit the decision of the quarrel to a combat of five or ten champions to be chosen on each side.[393]

This proposal (if really made) was instantly refused, and Kerboga, drawn up before his camp, waited the attack of the Christians; while Soliman or Kilidge Aslan, taking a wide circuit with an immense force of cavalry, prepared to fall upon the rear of the army commanded by Boemond. To conceal this evolution the vizier caused the dry grass and weeds with which great part of the ground was covered to be set on fire, and by the smoke thus raised[394] succeeded in obscuring the movements of his cavalry. During this manoeuvre he extended his line, and endeavoured to turn the flanks of the crusading army. The banner-bearers,[395] in front of the host, were now within bow-shot of the enemy, and the arrows began to fall like hail on either side. The columns of the Christians came up one after another to the attack, and fighting hand to hand forced back the Turkish centre upon their camp, so that in that part of the field victory seemed leaning towards the champions of the Cross.

At the same time, however, Soliman had fallen upon the rear of Boemond,[396] who, enveloped by infinitely superior forces, was pressed hard and separated from the rest of the army. The dense cloud occasioned by the burning weeds embarrassed the Lombards and Italians, and the sword of the Persians was reaping a terrible harvest in the ranks of the crusaders. Tancred flew to the rescue of Boemond, and Hugh of Vermandois as well as Godfrey of Bouillon abandoning the attack[397] they were making on the centre of the infidel army, turned to the rear, and succeeded in repelling the troops of Soliman. Still, the battle raged undecided;[398] while Kerboga used every effort to secure the victory, and hurrying up the columns from his wings, caused them to charge the rear of Godfrey as he advanced to the succour of the Prince of Tarentum. All was now confusion in that part of the field, the fight became hand to hand, blade crossed with blade, and man struggled against man. Meanwhile the Bishop of Puy, still bearing the sacred lance,[399] pressed forward upon a corps at the head of which Kerboga had placed himself; and with the ProvenÇals urged the battle manfully against the infidels. The Persians fought bravely, and their numbers, as well as their great superiority in cavalry, gave them vast advantages over the Latins. Returning again and again to the charge with unequalled rapidity, fighting as well when their columns were broken as when their ranks were entire, and unrivalled in the use of the bow, they gave the crusaders not a moment to pause, without some enemy to attack, and some blow to repel.

At length a report was raised through the Christian host that the saints were fighting on their side; and either by accident, by the force of imagination, or by some preconcerted artifice, the crusaders saw—or thought they saw—some figures clothed in white raiment, and mounted on white horses, coming over the mountains to their aid.[400] All fear, all suspense was at an end. The enthusiasm was prodigious, extraordinary, overpowering. The redoubted battle-cry “God wills it! God wills it!” once more rang over the field, and the weapons of the Christians seemed swayed by the force of giants. At the same time, among the Moslems spread the sickening news that the Latins had forced their way into the camp. The hopes of the infidels fell, and terror took possession of them, while the courage of the people of the Cross, raised into ecstasy by the belief of visible aid from on high, bore down all that opposed it, and soon converted feeble resistance into flight. In vain Kerboga tried to rally his troops, the panic was general, the pursuers fierce and resolute; and the mighty army of the Persians was scattered to the four winds of heaven. Tancred,[401] leaving to others the plunder of the camp, followed the fugitives over the hills, and prevented them from reassembling, while the rest of the chiefs entered the tents of the Persians, and added to their slaughtered enemies the blood of the helpless and unoffending.[402] A number of women and children were either slain by the sword or borne down in the flight, and an immense booty in gold, arms, horses, cattle, and rich vestments made the host of the crusade richer than even when it took its departure from Europe. The pavilion of Kerboga himself, though not the most valuable, was perhaps the most curious part of the spoil, being formed like a town, with walls, towers, and battlements,[403] and comprising streets, squares, and avenues within itself. It fell to the share of Boemond, and was capable, they say, of containing two thousand men.

Sixty-nine thousand Turks[404] died in the battle of Antioch, while the loss of the crusaders is not estimated at more than ten thousand; but it must be remembered that this is the account of the Christians themselves. One of the immediate consequences[405] of this great victory was the surrender of the citadel of Antioch, which was now given up in despair. A considerable number of the soldiers forming its garrison embraced Christianity, and remained in the town; while the rest, who firmly adhered to their ancient faith, were honourably conducted beyond the conquered territory. The whole army, loaded with wealth, and rejoicing in abundance, entered once more the walls of the city, and offered up to Heaven manifold thanksgivings for the victory they had obtained. The only occurrence that for the time troubled the public joy[406] was, that the Count of Toulouse, who had remained behind to guard the town, looked upon the citadel, which had surrendered previous to the return of the host, as his own conquest, and had raised his banner on the walls.[407] The council of leaders determined that their agreement with Boemond embraced the castle as well as the town, and Raimond was, in consequence, forced to resign the authority he had usurped to the Prince of Tarentum. The count, notwithstanding, still retained possession of one of the city-gates,[408] with its adjoining towers, which he maintained for some months, but was obliged at last, by force of arms, to yield the whole.

The first occupation of the crusaders after quieting this dispute was to restore the temples, which the Moslems had converted into mosques, to the service of the Christian religion. The priests were re-established, the ceremonies of the church recalled; and though they adhered to the forms of the Latin ritual, with wise and Christian moderation they abstained from interfering with the Greek patriarch, notwithstanding that they considered his dogmas heretical. The next question more related to their further advance into the country; and the people, proud in their victory, and forgetful of privations in the fulness of sudden satiety, clamoured loudly to be led on to Jerusalem. The chiefs,[409] however, saw how greatly repose was required; their army was lamentably diminished; most of the soldiers were suffering from wounds or weariness, and few, though refreshed by their lately acquired stores, were capable of bearing more fatigue and fresh necessities. At the same time, the fiery months of August and September, with the exposed plains of Syria, lay before them; and it was known that water, scanty on the road to Jerusalem even in the best times, was now hardly to be procured.

On these considerations, the chiefs determined to postpone their advance till October, and in the mean while despatched Hugh[410] the Great, Count of Vermandois, with Baldwin of Mons, Count of Hainault, to the court of Constantinople. These ambassadors were instructed to urge the base Alexius to fulfil the many promises which he had made and neglected; and to threaten him, in case of his refusal, with the anger both of God and man.

Baldwin of Mons was betrayed into a Turkish ambuscade, and his fate was never clearly ascertained;[411] but Hugh of Vermandois made his way safely through Asia Minor, and arrived at Constantinople. Admitted to the presence of Alexius, he detailed the sufferings of the Christians, and their diminished forces, and showed the necessity which they felt of supplies and reinforcements. He announced also their victory over the Turks, and the signal humiliation which had been inflicted on the proud Moslems. This news in both respects gratified Alexius: but, equally well content that the Turks should be made weak, and that the Latins should not grow strong, he found the affairs of the east progressing exactly as he could have desired, and determined to leave them in the course which they had themselves taken. The wrath of Heaven for his broken engagements, and the vengeance of the crusaders on the same score, were far too remote evils for the narrow-minded despot to yield them any consideration. Hugh of Vermandois—now near home[412] and the comforts which he had so long abandoned, anticipating little pleasure and no small danger on the journey back, and having neither satisfactory news nor necessary reinforcements to take to the crusaders—determined upon pursuing his journey into France, and leaving his companions to their fate. Knowing, however, that it would be difficult to justify himself in their eyes, he did not even take the trouble to write for that purpose; others on his part have done so for posterity, and have failed.