——

A.D. 1097-1099.

The great army of the Crusaders had traversed the states of the sultan of Nice and Iconium; throughout its passage the mosques were given up to the flames or converted into churches; but the Christians had neglected to fortify the cities of which they had rendered themselves masters, or to found a military colony in a country wherein the Turks were always able to rally and re-establish their formidable power. This fault, which must be attributed to a too great confidence in victory, became fatal to the Crusaders, who, in the midst of their triumphs, lost the means of communication with Europe, and thus deprived themselves of the assistance they might have received from Greece and the West.

Terror opened to the pilgrims all the passages of Mount Taurus. Throughout their triumphant march the Christians had nothing to dread but famine, the heat of the climate, and the badness of the roads. They had, particularly, much to suffer in crossing a mountain situated between Coxon and Marash, which their historians denominate “The Mountain of the Devil.” This mountain was very steep, and offered only one narrow path, in which the foot-soldiers marched with difficulty; the horses, which could not keep their footing, dragged each other down the abysses; and the army lost a great part of its baggage. In the course of this disastrous march, says an historian who was an eye-witness, the soldiers gave themselves up to despair, and refused to proceed. Being encumbered with their arms, they either sold them at a low price or cast them down the precipices. On all sides were to be seen warriors wounded by their frequent falls, and pilgrims exhausted with fatigue, who could not continue their route, and filled the air and mountains with their cries and groans. The passage of the Christian army across this mountain occupied several days; but when they had at length passed the chains of Mount Taurus and Mount Amanus, the sight of Syria revived their courage, and made them quickly forget all their fatigues. That country into which they were about to enter embraced within its territories Palestine, the object of all their wishes, prayers, and labours. In all ages Syria has attracted conquerors, by the fertility of its soil and its wealth. In the time of David and Solomon, it already boasted several flourishing cities. At the period of the Crusades it had undergone a great many revolutions, but its fields, though covered with celebrated ruins, still preserved some portion of their fecundity.

The first of the Syrian provinces that presented itself to the eyes of the Christians was the territory of Antioch. Towards the east extended the states of the sultans of Aleppo and Mousoul. Further, at the foot of Mount Libanus, was seen the principality of Damascus; on the coast stood Laodicea, Tripoli, and the cities of Sidon and Tyre, so celebrated in both sacred and profane antiquity. All these cities, which scarcely maintained a shadow of their former splendour, were governed by emirs who had shaken off the yoke of the sultans of Persia, and reigned as sovereign princes over the ruins of the empire of Malek-Scha.

The Crusaders advanced as far as the ancient Chalcis, then called Artesia, of which they made themselves masters. To arrive before Antioch they had to pass over a bridge built over the Orontes, and defended by two towers masked with iron. Nothing could resist the van, commanded by the duke of Normandy. The Normans soon got possession of the bridge, and passed the river. Terror seized upon the Mussulman ranks, and they sought shelter, with the greatest haste, within the walls of the city. The whole Christian army, drawn up in battle array, with trumpets sounding and flags flying, marched towards Antioch and encamped within a mile of its walls.

The sight of this city, so celebrated in the annals of Christianity, revived the enthusiasm of the Crusaders. It was within the walls of Antioch that the disciples of Jesus Christ first assumed the title of Christians, and the apostle Peter was named the first pastor of the young church. No city had contained within its bosom a greater number of martyrs, saints, and doctors; no city had beheld more miracles worked for the faith. During many centuries, the faithful had been accustomed to come into one of its suburbs to pray at the tomb of St. Babylas, who, during the reign of Julian, had silenced the oracles of Apollo. For a long time Antioch was considered in Christendom as the eldest daughter of Sion; it bore the name of Theopolis ’the city of God), and pilgrims visited it with no less respect than Jerusalem.

Antioch was as much celebrated in the annals of Rome as in those of the Church. The magnificence of its edifices and the residence of several emperors had obtained it the name of the Queen of the East. Its situation, amidst a smiling and fertile country, attracted strangers to it at all times. At two leagues eastward was a lake abounding in fish, which communicated with the Orontes; whilst on the south, were the suburbs and the fountain of Daphne, so renowned in paganism. Not far from this arose the mountain of Orontes, covered with gardens and country houses; on the north was another mountain, sometimes called the Black Mountain, on account of its forests, and sometimes the Water Mountain, on account of its numerous springs. The river Orontes[94] flowed at the foot of the ramparts of Antioch towards the west, and fell into the sea at a distance of three or four leagues from the city.

Within the walls were four hills separated by a torrent, which cast itself into the river. Upon the western hill was built a very strong citadel, which dominated over the city. The ramparts of Antioch, whose solidity equalled that of a rock, were three leagues in extent. “This place,” says an old author, “was an object of terror to those who looked upon it, for the number of its strong and vast towers, which amounted to three hundred and sixty.” Wide ditches, the river Orontes and marshes, still further protected the inhabitants of Antioch, and cut off an approach to the city.

In spite of all these fortifications of nature and art,[95] Antioch had been several times taken. It fell at once into the power of the Saracens, in the first age of the Hegira; it was afterwards retaken by the Greeks, under Nicephorus Phocas; and, fourteen years before, the Turks had rendered themselves masters of it. At the approach of the Christians, the greater part of the Saracens of the neighbouring cities and provinces had sought security in Antioch for themselves, their wives, and treasures. Baghisian,[96] or Accien, grandson of Malek-Scha, who had obtained the sovereignty of the city, had shut himself up in it, with seven thousand horse and twenty thousand foot-soldiers.

The siege of Antioch presented many difficulties and dangers. The chiefs of the Crusaders deliberated upon the propriety of undertaking it; and the first who spoke in the council thought that it would be imprudent to commence a siege at the beginning of winter. They did not dread the arms of the Saracens, but the rains, the tempests, and the horrors of famine. They advised the Crusaders to await in the provinces and neighbouring cities the arrival of the aid promised by Alexius, and the return of spring, by which time the army would have repaired its losses, and received beneath its standards fresh reinforcements from the West. This counsel was listened to with much impatience by the greater part of the leaders, among whom were conspicuous the legate Adhemar and the duke of Lorraine. “Ought we not, at once,” said they, “to take advantage of the terror spread among the enemy? Is it right to leave them time to rally and recover from their alarm? Is it not well known that they have implored the succour of the caliph of Bagdad and the sultan of Persia? Every moment of delay may strengthen the armies of the Mussulmans, and rob the Christians of the fruits of their victories. You talk of the arrival of the Greeks; but do we stand in need of the Greeks to attack enemies already many times conquered? Was it necessary to await for new Crusaders from the West, who would come to share the glories and the conquests of the Christian army, without having shared its dangers and its labours? As to the rigours of winter, which they appeared so much to dread, it was an insult to the soldiers of Jesus Christ to think them incapable of enduring cold and rain. It was, in some sort, to compare them to those birds of passage which fly away and hide themselves in secret places, when they see the bad season approach.[97] It was, besides, impossible to think that a siege could be protracted to any length with an army full of ardour and courage. The Crusaders had only to remember the siege of Nice, the battle of DorylÆum, and a thousand other exploits. Why should they be restrained by the fear of want and famine? Had they not hitherto found in war all the resources of war? They must know that victory had always supplied the wants of the Crusaders, and that abundance awaited them in that city of Antioch, which would not be long in opening its gates to them.”

This discourse won over the most ardent and the most brave. Such as entertained a contrary opinion dreaded to be accused of timidity, and remained silent. The council decided that the siege of Antioch should at once be commenced; and on that very day the whole Christian army advanced under the walls of the city. Bohemond and Tancred took their posts on the east, opposite the gate of St. Paul; to the right of the Italians were the Normans, the Bretons, the Flemings, and the French, commanded by the two Roberts; the count de Vermandois and the count de Chartres encamped towards the north, opposite the gate of the Dog; the count of Thoulouse, the bishop of Puy, and the duke of Lorraine, with the troops they commanded, occupied the space which extended from the gate of the Dog to the spot where the Orontes turning towards the west approaches the walls of Antioch. The Crusaders left open the southern part, defended by the mountain of Orontes, and likewise neglected to invest the western side of the city, which the river protected, and thus gave the besieged liberty to make sorties or receive succours.

The Turks had shut themselves up within their walls; not a soul appeared upon the ramparts, and not the least noise was heard in the city. The Crusaders fancied that they saw in this appearance of inaction and this profound silence the discouragement and terror which had taken possession of their enemies. Blinded by the hope of an easy conquest, they took no precautions, and spread themselves about over the neighbouring country. The abundance of provisions, the beautiful sky of Syria, the fountain and the shades of Daphne, and the banks of the Orontes, famous in Pagan antiquity for the worship of Venus and Adonis, made them lose sight of the holy war, and spread license and corruption among the soldiers of Christ.

Whilst they thus neglected, amongst scenes of intemperance and debauchery, the laws of discipline and the precepts of the Scriptures, they were attacked by the garrison of Antioch, which surprised them, some scarcely guarding the camp, and the rest scattered about in the neighbouring country. All whom the hopes of pillage or the attractions of pleasure had drawn into the villages and orchards bordering upon the Orontes, met with either slavery or death. Young AlbÉron, archdeacon of Metz, and son of Conrad, count of Lunebourg, paid with his life for the enjoyment of amusements which accorded but very little with the austerity of his profession. He was surprised by the Turks[98] at the moment when, stretched upon the grass, he was playing at dice with a Syrian courtezan. His head was struck off with one blow of a sabre. The courtezan was not killed till she had satisfied the brutal passion of their conqueror. Their heads, with those of a great number of Christians, were cast into the camp of the Crusaders, who now deplored their disorders, and swore to take revenge for their defeat.

The desire to repair one fault made them commit another. They resolved upon scaling the walls of Antioch, without having either ladders or machines of war. The signal was given for a general assault. Vengeance and fanaticism animated both soldiers and leaders; but their efforts could neither shake the walls of the city, nor disturb the security of the besieged. Their attacks, though renewed several times and at several points, were always unsuccessful. Experience, for whose lessons they always paid so dearly, at length taught them, that if they wished to make themselves masters of the place, no other means was left them but to invest it completely, and prevent the arrival of any succour from without.

They established a bridge of boats upon the Orontes, and passed some troops over towards the western side of the city. All the means in their power were employed to stop the sorties of the enemy—sometimes they erected wooden fortresses near the ramparts, whilst at others they prepared balistas, which launched large stones upon the besieged. The Crusaders, in order to close the gate of the Dog upon the Turks, were obliged to heap up against it enormous beams and fragments of rock. At the same time they intrenched their camp, and redoubled their efforts to secure themselves against surprise on the part of the Saracens.

The Christian army was now solely occupied with the blockade of the city. Although this determination was dictated by imperious necessity, the slowness of a siege did not at all agree with the impatience of the warriors of the West. On their arrival before Antioch, the Christian soldiers had dissipated in a few days the provisions of several months; they had only thought of fighting the enemy in the field of battle, and, ever full of confidence in victory, they had neither sought to protect themselves against the rigours of winter, nor to prevent the approaches of the famine with which they were threatened.

The want of provisions was not long before it was felt. As soon as winter had set in, they found themselves a prey to every species of calamity. Torrents of rain fell daily, and the plains, an abode upon which had rendered the soldiers of Christ effeminate, were almost all buried beneath the waters. The Christian camp, particularly in the valley, was submerged several times; tempests and inundations carried away the pavilions and tents; moisture relaxed the bows, and rust gnawed into both lances and swords. The greater part of the soldiers were without clothes; and contagious diseases carried off both men and animals. Rains, cold, famine, epidemic diseases, made such ravages, that, according to the report of William of Tyre, the Crusaders had not either time or space to bury their dead.[99]

In the midst of the general distress, Bohemond and the duke of Normandy were commissioned to go and scour the country in search of provisions. In the course of their incursion they defeated several detachments of Saracens, and returned to the camp with a considerable booty. But the provisions they brought could not be sufficient to support a large army for any length of time; every day they made fresh incursions, and every day were less successful. All the country of Upper Syria had been ravaged by the Turks and Christians. The Crusaders who were sent on these foraging parties often put the infidels to flight; but victory, which was almost always their only resource in moments of want, could not bring back abundance to their camp.

To fill up the measure of their miseries, all communication was stopped with Constantinople; the fleets of the Pisans and Genoese no longer coasted the countries occupied by the Crusaders. The port of St. Simeon, situated at three leagues from Antioch, saw no vessel now arrive from either Greece or the West. The Flemish pirates, who had taken up the cross at Tarsus, after possessing themselves of Laodicea, had been surprised by the Greeks, and were detained prisoners during several weeks. The darkest future lay before the Christians; they no longer talked of anything but of the losses they had sustained, and of the evils with which they were threatened; each day the most afflicting intelligence was spread through the army.

It was said that the son of Sweno, king of Denmark, who had assumed the cross, and was leading fifteen hundred horsemen to the holy war, had been surprised by the Turks whilst advancing rapidly across the defiles of Cappadocia. Attacked by an enemy superior in numbers, he had defended himself during a whole day, without being able to repulse the infidels, with all the efforts of his courage or the battle-axes of his warriors. Florine, daughter of Eudes I., duke of Burgundy, who accompanied the Danish hero, and to whom he was to be married after the taking of Jerusalem, had valiantly fought by his side. Pierced by seven arrows, but still fighting, she sought with Sweno to open a passage towards the mountains, when they were overwhelmed by their enemies. They fell together on the field of battle, after having seen all their knights and their most faithful servants perish around them. “Such were the news that came to the camp of the Christians,” says William of Tyre, “and so full were they of sadness and grief, that more than ever were their hearts depressed with the increase of their calamities.”[100]

Each succeeding day famine and disease made greater ravages. The provisions[101] brought to the camp by a few Syrians were at so high a price that the soldiers could not obtain any; the multitude filled the camp with lamentations, and there was not a Crusader who had not to weep for the death of several of his companions. Desertion was soon added to the other scourges. The greater part of the Crusaders had lost all hope of taking Antioch, or of ever reaching the Holy Land. Some sought refuge from misery in Mesopotamia, now governed by Baldwin; whilst others repaired to the cities of Cilicia which had fallen into the hands of the Christians.

The duke of Normandy withdrew to Laodicea, and did not return until he had received three summonses from the army in the name of religion and of Jesus Christ. Tatius, the general of Alexius, quitted the camp of the Crusaders with the troops he commanded, promising to return with reinforcements and provisions. His departure caused little regret, and his promises, in which they had no confidence, did not at all alleviate the despair of the sufferers. This despair was carried to its height among the defenders of the cross when they saw those who ought to have set them an example of patience and courage desert them. William, viscount de Melun, whose extraordinary exploits with the battle-axe had procured him the name of the Carpenter, could not support the miseries of the siege, and deserted the standard of Christ.[102] The preacher of the crusade, Peter the Hermit, whom the Christians, doubtless, blamed for all the miseries of the siege, was unable to bear their complaints or share their misfortunes; and despairing of the success of the expedition, he fled secretly from the camp.[103] His desertion caused a great scandal among the pilgrims, “and did not astonish them less,” says Abbot Guibert, “than if the stars had fallen from the heavens.” Pursued and overtaken by Tancred, he and William the Carpenter were brought back disgraced to the camp. The army reproached Peter with his base desertion, and made him swear upon the Scriptures that he would never again abandon a cause which he had preached. They threatened with the punishment usually inflicted upon homicides all who should follow the example he had given to his companions and brothers.

But in the midst of the corruption which reigned in the Christian army, virtue itself might have thought of flight, and have excused desertion. If contemporary accounts are to be credited, all the vices of the infamous Babylon prevailed among the liberators of Sion. Strange and unheard-of spectacle! Beneath the tents of the Crusaders famine and voluptuousness formed a hideous union; impure love, an unbounded passion for play, with all the excesses of debauch, were mingled with images of death.[104] In their misfortunes, the greater part of the pilgrims seemed to disdain the consolations that might have been derived from piety and virtue.

And yet the bishop of Puy, and the more virtuous portion of the clergy used every effort to reform the manners of the Crusaders. They caused the voice of religion to hurl its thunders against the excesses of libertinism and licentiousness. They recalled to their minds all the evils that the Christian army had suffered, and attributed them entirely to the vices and debaucheries of the defenders of the cross. An earthquake which was felt at this time, an aurora borealis, which was a new phenomenon to great part of the pilgrims, were pointed out to them as an announcement of the anger of Heaven. Fasts and prayers were ordered, to avert the celestial indignation. The Crusaders made processions round the camp, and hymns of penitence resounded from all parts. The priests invoked the wrath of the Church against all who should betray the cause of Christ by their sins. To add to the terrors which the threats of religion inspired, a tribunal, composed of the principal leaders of the army and the clergy, was charged with the pursuit and punishment of the guilty. Men surprised in a state of intoxication had their hair cut off; whilst blasphemers, or such as gave themselves up to a passion for play, were branded with a hot iron. A monk accused of adultery, and convicted by the ordeal of fire, was beaten with rods, and led naked through the camp. As the judges became aware of the guilty, they must have been terrified at their numbers. The severest punishments could not entirely stop the prostitution which had become almost general. They determined upon shutting up all the women in a separate camp—an extreme and imprudent measure, which confounded vice and virtue, and produced crimes more disgraceful than those they desired to prevent.

Among all these calamities, the camp of the Crusaders was filled with Syrian spies, who daily bore into the city accounts of the plans, the distress, and the despair of the besiegers. Bohemond, in order to deliver the army, employed a means of a nature to disgust even barbarians. My pen refuses to trace such pictures, and I leave William of Tyre, or rather his old translator, to speak. “Bohemond,” says he, “commanded that several Turks, whom he held in close confinement, should be brought before him. These he caused instantly to be executed by the hands of the officers of justice, and then ordering a great fire to be lighted, he had them spitted and roasted, as flesh prepared for the supper of himself and his troops; at the same time commanding, that if any one made inquiries about what was going on, that they should be answered in this fashion: ‘The princes and rulers of the camp have this day decreed in council, that all Turks or spies that shall henceforward be found in their camp, shall be, in this manner, forced to make meat with their own bodies, as well for the princes as the whole army.’”

The servants of Bohemond executed exactly the orders and instructions which he had given them. The strangers who were in the camp soon flocked to the quarters of the prince of Tarentum, and when they saw what was going on, adds our ancient author, were marvellously terrified, fearing to share the fate of the victims. They made haste to quit the camp of the Christians, and everywhere on their road spread an account of that which they had seen. Their story flew from mouth to mouth, even to the most distant countries: the inhabitants of Antioch, and all the Mussulmans of the Syrian cities, were seized with terror, and no more ventured to approach the camp of the Crusaders. “By these means,” says the historian we have above quoted, “it ensued from the cunning and conduct of the seigneur Bohemond, that the pest of spies was banished from the camp, and the enterprises of the Christians were not divulged to the enemy.”

The bishop of Puy, at the same time, employed a stratagem much more innocent and conformable with the spirit of his ministry and his profession. He caused the lands in the neighbourhood of Antioch to be ploughed and sowed, in order to protect the Christian army from the attacks of famine, and, at the same time to lead the Saracens to believe that nothing could exhaust the perseverance of the besiegers.

In the meanwhile the winter was stealing away; the contagious diseases committed fewer ravages; and the princes and the monasteries of Armenia sent provisions to the Christians.[105] The famine began to be less felt. The amelioration in the condition of the pilgrims was attributed to their penitence and their conversion; and they returned thanks to Heaven for having made them better and more worthy of its protection and mercy.

It was at this period that ambassadors from the caliph of Egypt arrived in the camp of the Crusaders. In the presence of the infidels the Christian soldiers endeavoured to conceal the traces and remembrances of the lengthened miseries they had undergone. They clothed themselves in their most precious vestments, and displayed their most brilliant arms. Knights and barons contended for the glory of strength and skill in tournaments. Nothing was seen but dancing and festivity, amidst which abundance and joy appeared to reign. The Egyptian ambassadors were received in a magnificent tent, in which were assembled all the principal leaders of the army. They did not disguise, in their address, the extreme aversion that their master had always entertained for an alliance with the Christians; but the victories which the Crusaders had gained over the Turks, those eternal enemies of the race of Ali, had led him to believe that God himself had sent them into Asia, as the instruments of his vengeance and justice. The Egyptian caliph was disposed to ally himself with the victorious Christians, and was preparing to enter Palestine and Syria. As he had learnt that the wishes of the Crusaders were confined to an ardent desire to behold Jerusalem, he promised to restore the Christian churches, to protect their worship, and open the gates of the Holy City to all the pilgrims, upon condition that they would repair thither without arms, and would remain there no longer than one month. If the Crusaders submitted to these conditions, the caliph promised to become their most generous supporter; if they declined the blessing of his friendship, the nations of Egypt and Ethiopia, with all those that inhabit Asia and Africa, from the Straits of Gades to the gates of Bagdad, would arise at the voice of the legitimate vicar of the prophet, and would show the warriors of the West the power of their arms.

This discourse excited violent murmurs in the assembly of the Christians; one of the chiefs arose to answer it, and addressing himself to the deputies of the caliph: “The religion that we follow,” said he to them, “has inspired us with the design of re-establishing its empire in the places in which it was born; and we stand in no need of the concurrence of the powers of the earth to accomplish our vows. We do not come into Asia to receive laws or benefits from Mussulmans, nor have we forgotten, besides, the outrages committed by Egyptians upon the pilgrims of the West; we still remember that Christians, under the reign of the caliph Hakem, were delivered over to executioners, and that their churches, particularly that of the Holy Sepulchre, were razed to the ground. Yes, without doubt, we have the intention of visiting Jerusalem, but we have also taken an oath to deliver it from the yoke of the infidels. God, who has honoured it by his sufferings, wills that he shall be there served by his people. The Christians resolve to be both its guardians and its masters. Go and tell him who sent you to make choice of peace or war; tell him that the Christians encamped before Antioch fear neither the nations of Egypt, nor those of Asia, nor those of Bagdad, and that they only ally themselves with powers which respect the laws of justice and the standards of Jesus Christ.”

The orator who spoke thus expressed the opinion and sentiments of the assembly; nevertheless, they did not entirely reject the alliance with the Egyptians. Deputies were chosen from the Christian army to accompany the ambassadors of Cairo on their return, and to bear to the caliph the definitive propositions of peace of the Crusaders.

Scarcely had the deputies left the camp of the Christians, when the latter obtained a fresh victory over the Turks. The sultans of Aleppo and Damascus, with the emirs of CÆesarea, Emessa, and Hieropolis, had raised an army of twenty thousand horse to succour Antioch; and this army was already on its march towards the city, when it was surprised and cut to pieces by the prince of Tarentum and the count de St. Gilles, who had gone out to meet it. The Turks lost in this battle two thousand men and one thousand horses; and the city of Harem, in which they in vain sought an asylum after their defeat, fell into the hands of the Christians. At the moment the ambassadors from Egypt were about to embark at the port of St. Simeon, the heads and spoils of two hundred Mussulmans were brought to them upon four camels. The conquerors cast two hundred other heads into the city of Antioch, whose garrison was still in expectation of succour; and they stuck a great number upon pikes round the walls. They exhibited thus these horrible trophies, to avenge themselves of the insults the Saracens had, on their ramparts, heaped upon an image of the Virgin which had fallen into their hands.

But the Crusaders were soon to signalize themselves in a much more perilous and murderous battle. A fleet of Genoese and Pisans had entered the port of St. Simeon, and the news of their arrival causing the greatest joy in the army, a great number of soldiers left the camp and hastened towards the port, some to learn news from Europe, and others to buy the provisions of which they stood so much in need. As they were returning loaded with provisions, and for the greater part unarmed, they were unexpectedly attacked and dispersed by a body of four thousand Turks, who laid wait for them on their passage. In vain the prince of Tarentum, the count de St. Gilles, and Bishop Adhemar, flew to their aid with their troops; the Christians could not resist the shock of the infidels, and retreated in disorder.

The account of this defeat soon spread alarm among the Crusaders who had remained before the city. Immediately Godfrey, to whom danger gave supreme authority, ordered the leaders and soldiers to fly to arms.[106] Accompanied by his brother Eustace, the two Roberts, and the count de Vermandois, he crossed the Orontes, and hastened to seek the enemy, still engaged in following up their first advantage. As soon as he came in presence of the Saracens, he commanded the other chiefs to follow his example, and rushed, sword in hand, into the thickest of the enemy’s ranks. The latter, accustomed to fight at a distance, and principally to employ the bow and arrow, could not resist the sword and lance of the Crusaders. They took to flight, some towards the mountains, and others towards the city. Accien, who, from the towers of his palace, had witnessed the victorious attack of the Crusaders, immediately sent a numerous detachment to renew the fight. He accompanied his soldiers as far as the gate of the Bridge, which he caused to be shut after them, telling them it should only be opened to them when they returned victorious.

This new body of Saracens were soon beaten and dispersed; and there remained no hope to them but to endeavour to regain the city. But Godfrey, who had foreseen everything, had posted himself upon an eminence between the fugitives and the gates of Antioch. It was there that the carnage was renewed; the Christians were animated by their victory, and the Saracens by their despair and the cries of the inhabitants of the city, who were assembled on the ramparts. Nothing can paint the frightful tumult of this fresh conflict. The clashing of arms and the cries of the combatants would not permit the soldiers to hear the orders of their leaders. They fought man to man, and without order, whilst clouds of dust covered the field of battle. Chance directed the blows of both the conquerors and the conquered, and the Saracens, heaped as it were together by their terror, impeded their own flight. The confusion was so great that several of the Crusaders were killed by their companions and brothers in arms. A great number of Saracens fell almost without resistance under the swords of the Christians, and more than two thousand, who sought safety in flight, were drowned in the Orontes. “The old men of Antioch,” says William of Tyre, “whilst contemplating this bloody catastrophe from the height of their walls, grieved that they had lived so long, whilst the women who witnessed the death of their children, lamented their own fecundity.” The carnage continued during the whole day; and it was not till nightfall that Accien allowed the gates to be opened for the reception of the miserable remains of his troops, still hotly pursued by the Crusaders.

The leaders and soldiers of the army had performed prodigies of valour. Bohemond, Tancred, Adhemar, Baldwin du Bourg, and Eustace had appeared everywhere, leading their warriors in the paths of danger. The whole army spoke of the lance-thrusts and marvellous feats of arms of the count de Vermandois and the two Roberts. The duke of Normandy sustained a single combat with a leader of the infidels, who advanced towards him surrounded by his troop. With one blow of his sword he split his head to the shoulder, and, as the Saracen fell dead at his feet, exclaimed, “I devote thy impure soul to the powers of hell.” Tancred, says Raoul de Caen, distinguished himself amongst the most intrepid of the knights. In the heat of the mÊlÉe, the Christian hero, as modest as he was brave, made his squire swear to preserve silence upon the exploits of which he was a witness.[107] “Godfrey, who, in this memorable day, had displayed the skill of a great captain, signalized his bravery and vast strength by actions which both history and poetry have celebrated. No armour seemed proof against his trenchant blade; lances, helmets, and cuirasses flew in shivers beneath its strokes. A Saracen of surpassing strength and stature offered him single combat in the midst of the mÊlÉe, and with his first blow dashed the shield of Godfrey in pieces. Indignant at such audacity, the Christian hero raised himself in his stirrups, and rushing on his antagonist, dealt him so terrible a blow on the shoulder, that he divided his body into two parts.[108] The one, say the historians, fell to the ground, whilst the other remained on the horse, which returned to the city, where this spectacle redoubled the consternation of the besieged. In spite of these astonishing exploits, the Christians sustained a considerable loss. Whilst celebrating the heroic valour of the Crusaders, contemporary history is astonished at the multitude of martyrs which the Saracens sent to heaven, and who, on arriving in the abodes of the elect, with crowns upon their heads, and palm branches in their hands, addressed God in these words: ‘Why have you not spared our blood which has flowed for you this day?’”[109]

The infidels passed the night in burying such as had been killed under the walls of the city. They interred them near a mosque built on the outer side of the bridge of the Orontes. After the funeral ceremonies, they returned into Antioch. As, according to the custom of the Mussulmans, these bodies had been buried with their arms, their ornaments, and their vestments, this plunder held out too strong a temptation for the gross multitude that followed the army of the Crusaders. They crossed the Orontes, precipitated themselves in a crowd upon the graves of the Saracens, exhumed the dead bodies, and tore off the arms and habiliments with which they were covered. They quickly returned to exhibit in the camp the silk stuffs, bucklers, lances, javelins, and rich swords found in the coffins; nor did this spectacle at all disgust the knights and barons. On the day following the battle, among the spoils of the vanquished, they contemplated with joy fifteen hundred heads separated from their trunks, which were paraded in triumph through the army, recalling to them their own victory, and the loss they had inflicted on the infidels. All these heads were cast into the Orontes, and, together with the bodies of the Mussulmans drowned in the conflict of the preceding day, carried the news of the victory to the Genoese and Pisans disembarked at the port of St. Simeon. The Crusaders, who, at the commencement of the battle, had fled towards the sea or the mountains, and who had been lamented as dead, returned to the camp, and joined their brethren in the thanks offered to heaven for the triumphs of the Christian army. From this time the chiefs thought of nothing but taking advantage of the terror with which they had inspired the Saracens. Masters of the cemetery of the Mussulmans, the Crusaders destroyed the mosque which had been built outside the walls of the city, and employed the stones of the tombs even in erecting a fortress before the gate of the bridge, by which the besieged made their sorties. Raymond, who had been accused of want of zeal for the holy war, caused the fort to be constructed, and charged himself with the defence of this dangerous post. It was proposed to raise another fortress near the first, and as no other of the leaders presented himself to forward the construction of it, Tancred offered his services to the Crusaders. But, generous and loyal knight as he was, he possessed nothing but his sword and his renown. He asked the necessary money of his companions, and himself undertook the dangers of the enterprise. All were eager to second his courageous devotedness; the labours which he directed were soon finished, and from that period the besieged found themselves completely enclosed within the circle of their walls.

The Crusaders, after having thus finished the blockade of the place, surprised the Syrians who had been accustomed to bring provisions into Antioch, and only gave them liberty and life upon their swearing to supply the Christian army. Having learnt that Accien had sent a great part of the horses of his garrison into a valley at a few leagues from the city, they repaired thither by circuitous routes, and got possession of this rich booty. Two thousand horses, and as many mules, were led in triumph into the camp of the Christians.

As the fleet of the Pisans and Genoese had brought with them a great number of labourers and engineers, they were employed in directing and carrying on the works of the siege. Machines of war were constructed, and the city of Antioch was pressed more vigorously, and threatened on all sides. Whilst despair supplied the place of courage among the Saracens, the zeal and emulation of the Crusaders were redoubled. Many whom misery or fear had driven from the Christian army rejoined their standards, and sought by their exertions to obliterate the remembrance of their desertion. The besiegers allowed themselves no repose, and only seemed to live to fight. The women seconded the valour of the warriors. Some mingled with them in the ranks, whilst others bore them food and ammunition to the battle-field. Children even formed themselves into troops, exercised themselves in military evolutions, and took up arms against the Saracens. The inhabitants of Antioch opposed their children to those of the Christians, and several times these young combatants came to blows in the presence of the besiegers and the besieged, who animated them with voice and gesture, and joined the combat even to support such of their party as seemed to yield.

There was formed at the same time another military force still more formidable to the Saracens.[110] The mendicants and vagabonds who followed the Christian army were employed in the labours of the siege, and worked under the orders of a captain, who took the title of “Roi truant,” or king of the beggars. They received pay from the general treasury of the Crusaders, and as soon as they were in a condition to purchase arms and clothes, the king renounced them as his subjects, and forced them to enter into one of the troops of the army. This measure, whilst forcing the vagabonds to abandon a life of dangerous idleness, changed them into useful auxiliaries. As they were accused of violating tombs and feeding on human flesh,[111] they inspired great terror among the infidels, and the sight of them alone put to flight the defenders of Antioch, who trembled at the thoughts of falling into their hands.

Antioch was so closely pressed, and the garrison had so little means of defence left, that the Crusaders expected every day to become masters of it. Accien demanded a truce of them, and promised to surrender if he were not soon relieved. The Crusaders, ever full of blind confidence, had the imprudence to accept the proposals of the governor. As soon as they had concluded a truce with the Saracens, the leaders of the army, who scarcely ever agreed, except upon the field of battle, and whom the presence of danger did not always unite, were upon the point of declaring war against one another.

Baldwin, prince of Edessa, had sent magnificent presents to Godfrey, the two Roberts, the count de Vermandois, and the counts of Blois and of Chartres, but in the distribution of his favours had, designedly, omitted Bohemond and his soldiers. Nothing more was necessary to create division. Whilst the rest of the army were celebrating the liberality of Baldwin, the prince of Tarentum and his warriors breathed nothing but complaints and murmurs.

At this time a richly-ornamented tent, which an Armenian prince destined for Godfrey, and which, falling into the hands of Pancracius, was sent to Bohemond, became a fresh subject of trouble and discord. Godfrey haughtily claimed the present which had been intended for him, and Bohemond refused to give it up. On each side they proceeded to injurious terms and threats; they were even ready to have recourse to arms, and the blood of the Christians was about to flow for a miserable quarrel; but at length the prince of Tarentum, abandoned by the greater part of the army, and overcome by the prayers of his friends, gave up the tent to his rival, consoling himself in his vexation, with the hope that war would soon put him in possession of a richer booty.

William of Tyre, who has transmitted to us this account, is astonished to see the wise Godfrey claim such a frivolous object with so much heat, and in his surprise he compares the weakness of the hero to the slumbers of the good Homer. His thought would have been more just if he had compared the discords and quarrels of the leaders of the crusade to those which troubled the camp of the Greeks, and so long retarded the taking of Troy. Whilst these quarrels engaged the attention of the whole Christian army, the inhabitants of Antioch were introducing reinforcements into the city, and preparing for a fresh resistance. When they had received the succours and provisions necessary to defend themselves and prolong the siege, they broke the truce, and again began the war, with all the advantages that a peace too easily granted them had procured.

Antioch, after a siege of seven months, would have escaped from the hands of the Christians, if stratagem, policy, and ambition had not effected for them that which patience and bravery had been unable to achieve. Bohemond, whose sole motive for undertaking the crusade had been a desire to improve his fortunes, was constantly on the watch for an opportunity of realizing his projects. Baldwin’s great success had awakened his jealousy, and haunted him even in his sleep. He dared to direct his views to the possession of Antioch, and was so far favoured by circumstances, as to meet with a man who might be able to place this city in his power. This man, whose name was Phirous, was, whatever some historians who give him a noble origin may say, the son of an Armenian, who was by trade a maker of cuirasses.[112] Of a restless and busy character, he was constantly anxious to change and improve his condition. He had abjured the Christian religion from a spirit of inconstancy, and in the hope of advancing his fortune; he was endowed with admirable self-possession, and with audacity proof against any accident; and was at all times ready to perform that for money which could only have been expected from the most ardent fanaticism. Nothing appeared unjust or impossible to him that promised to gratify his ambition or his avarice. Being active, adroit, and insinuating, he had wormed himself into the confidence of Accien, and was admitted into his council. The prince of Antioch had intrusted him with the command of three of the principal towers of the place. He defended them at first with zeal, but without any advantage to his fortune, and he grew weary of a barren fidelity the moment his busy brain suggested that treason might be more profitable. In the intervals of the various conflicts he had had many opportunities of seeing the prince of Tarentum. These two men divined each other’s character at the first glance, and it was not long before this sympathy produced mutual confidence. In their first meetings Phirous complained of the outrages he had experienced from the Mussulmans; he deeply regretted having abandoned the religion of Christ, and wept over the persecutions the Christians had suffered in Antioch. No more than this was required to place the prince of Tarentum in possession of the secret thoughts of Phirous. He commended both his remorse and his good feeling, and made him the most magnificent promises. Then the renegado opened his heart to him. They swore an inviolable friendship to each other, and planned an active correspondence. They met several times afterwards, but always with the greatest secrecy. At every interview Bohemond told Phirous that the fate of the Christians was in his hands, and that it only rested with himself to merit their gratitude, and receive from them vast recompenses. On his side, Phirous protested that he was anxious to serve the Christians, whom he considered as his brothers, and, in order to assure the prince of Tarentum of his fidelity, or else to excuse his treason, he said that Jesus Christ had appeared to him, and had advised him to give up Antioch to the Christians.[113] Bohemond required no such protestation. He had no difficulty in believing what he so ardently desired, and as soon as he had agreed with Phirous upon the means of executing the projects they had so long meditated, he called an assembly of the principal leaders of the Christian army. He began by laying before them with much earnestness both the evils with which the Crusaders had hitherto been afflicted, and the still greater evils with which they were threatened. He added, that a powerful army was advancing to the assistance of Antioch; that a retreat could not be effected without disgrace and danger; and that there remained no safety for the Christians but in the capture of the city. It was true, the place was defended by impregnable ramparts; but they should recollect that all victories were not obtained by force of arms or in the field of battle; and that such as were won by address were neither the least important nor the least glorious. They, then, who could not be conquered must be deceived, and the enemy must be overcome by a great but skilful enterprise. Among the inhabitants of Antioch, so diverse in their manners and religions, so opposed in their interests, there must be some to be found who would be accessible to the bait of gold, or the allurements of brilliant promises. The question of a service so important to the Christian army, was of such magnitude that it was right to promote every kind of undertaking. The possession of Antioch itself did not appear to him to be too high a reward for the zeal of him who should be sufficiently adroit, or sufficiently fortunate, as to throw open the gates of the city to the Crusaders.

Bohemond was careful not to explain himself more clearly, but his purpose was easily divined by the jealous ambition of some of the leaders, who perhaps entertained the same views as himself. Raymond, particularly, warmly refuted the artful insinuations of the prince of Tarentum. “We are all,” said he, “brothers and companions, and it would be unjust, after all have run the same risks, that one alone should gather the fruits of our joint labours. For myself,” added he, casting a look of anger and contempt upon Bohemond, “I have not traversed so many countries, braved so many perils, lavished so much blood and treasure, or sacrificed so many of my soldiers, to repay with the price of our conquests some gross artifice or shameful stratagem worthy only of women.” These vehement words had all the success to be expected among warriors accustomed to prevail by force of arms, and who esteemed no conquest that was not the reward of valour. The greater number of the leaders rejected the proposition of the prince of Tarentum, and added their railleries to those of Raymond. Bohemond, whom history has surnamed the Ulysses of the Latins, did all in his power to restrain himself and conceal his vexation. He went out from the council smiling, persuaded that necessity would soon bring the Crusaders to his opinion.

As soon as he had regained his tent, he sent emissaries through all the quarters of the camp to spread secretly the most alarming intelligence. As he foresaw, consternation seized the Christians. Some of the leaders were sent to ascertain the truth of the reports prevalent in the camp; and soon returned with an account that KerboghÂ, sultan of Mossoul, was advancing towards Antioch with an army of two hundred thousand men, collected on the banks of the Euphrates and the Tigris. This army, which had threatened the city of Edessa and ravaged Mesopotamia, was at a distance of only seven days’ march. At this recital the fears of the Crusaders were redoubled. Bohemond passed through the ranks, exaggerating the danger, and affecting to show more depression and terror than all the rest; but in his heart he was delighted, and smiled at the idea of soon seeing all his hopes accomplished. The leaders again assembled to deliberate upon the means necessary to be taken in such perilous circumstances. Two opinions divided the council. Some wished that the siege should be raised, and that they should march to meet the Saracens; whilst others were of opinion that the army should be formed into two bodies, one of which should act against KerboghÂ, whilst the other should remain to guard the camp. This last opinion appeared likely to prevail, when Bohemond demanded permission to speak. He had not much difficulty in making them sensible of the impracticability of both the plans proposed. If they raised the siege, they would be placed between the garrison of Antioch and a formidable army. If they continued the blockade of the city, and half of the army only went to meet KerboghÂ, they were almost certain of a defeat. “The greatest perils,” added the prince of Tarentum, “surround us. Time presses; to-morrow, perhaps, it will be too late to act; by to-morrow we may have lost the fruits of all our labours and all our victories; but no, I cannot think so; God, who has led us hitherto by the hand, will not allow that we shall have fought for his cause in vain. He will save the Christian army, he will conduct us to the tomb of his Son. If you will accept the proposal I have made to you, to-morrow the standard of the cross shall float over the walls of Antioch, and we will march in triumph to Jerusalem.”

When he had finished these words, Bohemond showed the letters of Phirous, who promised to give up the three towers which he commanded. Phirous said that he was ready to perform this promise, but he declared he would have nothing to do with any one but the prince of Tarentum. He required, as the price of his services, that Bohemond should remain master of Antioch. The Italian prince added that he had already given considerable sums to Phirous; that he alone had obtained his confidence, and that a reciprocal confidence was the surest guarantee of the success of so difficult an enterprise. “As for the rest,” continued he, “if a better means of saving the army can be found, I am ready to approve of it, and willingly renounce my share in a conquest upon which the safety of all the Crusaders depends.”

The danger became every day more pressing; it was shameful to fly, imprudent to fight, and dangerous to temporize. Fear silenced all interests and all rivalry. The more opposition the leaders had shown at first to the project of Bohemond, the more eagerly did they now produce cogent reasons for adopting it. A divided conquest became no longer a conquest. To divide or share Antioch might give birth to a crowd of divisions in the army, and lead to its ruin. They only gave that which was really not yet their own; and they gave it to secure the lives of the Christians. It were better that one man should profit by the labours of all, than that all should perish for opposing the good fortunes of that one. Moreover, the taking of Antioch was not the object of the crusade—they had taken up arms to deliver Jerusalem. Every delay was opposed to that which religion looked for from its soldiers, to that which the West expected from its bravest knights. All the leaders, with the exception of the inflexible Raymond, united in according the principality of Antioch to Bohemond, and conjured him to hasten the execution of his project.

Upon leaving the council, the prince of Tarentum sent information of the resolution of the leaders to Phirous, who placed his own son in the prince’s hands as a hostage. The execution of the plan was fixed for the next day. To lull the garrison of Antioch in the greatest security, it was agreed that the Christian army should quit the camp, and direct its march at first towards the route by which the prince of Mossoul was expected to arrive, and that at nightfall it should meet under the walls of Ascalon. On the following day, early in the morning, the troops received orders to prepare for their departure. At some hours before night the Crusaders issued from their camp, and marched away, trumpets sounding and standards flying. After a march of a short distance, they retraced their steps, and returned in silence under the walls of Antioch. At a signal given by the prince of Tarentum, they halted in a valley on the west, and near to the tower of the Three Sisters, in which Phirous commanded. It was there that the leaders revealed to the army the secret of the great expedition which was to open to them the gates of the city.

The projects of Phirous and Bohemond, however, were very near failing. At the moment that the Christian army quitted their camp, and all was prepared for carrying out the plot, a report of treason all at once was spread throughout Antioch. The Christians and newly-converted Mussulmans were suspected; the name of Phirous even was whispered, and he was accused of keeping up an intelligence with the Crusaders. He was obliged to appear before Accien, who interrogated him closely, and fixed his eyes intently upon him in order to penetrate his thoughts; but Phirous dispersed all his suspicions by his firm countenance. He himself proposed the proper measures to be taken against the traitors, and advised his master to change the commanders of the principal towers. This advice was approved of, and Accien determined to follow it on the morrow. In the mean time orders were given to load with chains and put to death, during the darkness of the night, all the Christians that should be found in the city. The renegade was then sent back to his post, loaded with praises for his carefulness and fidelity. At the approach of night everything appeared tranquil in Antioch, and Phirous, escaped from such threatening danger, awaited the Crusaders in the tower which he had agreed to surrender to them.

As his brother commanded a tower near his own, Phirous went to find him, and sought to engage him in the plot. “Brother,” said he to him, “you know that the Crusaders have quitted their camp, and that they are gone to meet the army of KerboghÂ. When I think of the miseries they have endured, and on the death which threatens them, I cannot help feeling a sort of pity for them. You are not ignorant, likewise, that this night all the Christian inhabitants of Antioch, after having undergone so many outrages, are going to be massacred by the orders of Accien. I cannot help pitying them; I cannot forget that we were born in the same religion, and that we were formerly brothers.” These words did not produce the effect he expected. “I am surprised,” replied his brother, “that you should pity men who ought to be objects of horror to us. Before the Christians appeared under the walls of Antioch, we were loaded with benefits. Since they have besieged the city, we have passed our lives in dangers and alarms. May all the evils they have brought upon us recoil upon them! As to the Christians who live amongst us, do you not know that the greater part of them are traitors, and that they think of nothing but delivering us up to the sword of our enemies?” On finishing these words, he cast a threatening look upon Phirous. The renegade saw that he was suspected. He could not acknowledge a brother in the man who refused to be his accomplice, and as his only answer, plunged his dagger into his heart.

At length the decisive moment arrived. The night was dark, and a rising storm increased the depth of the obscurity. The wind, which rattled among the roofs of the buildings, and the peals of thunder, prevented the sentinels from hearing any noise around the ramparts. The heavens seemed inflamed towards the west, and the sight of a comet which then appeared in the horizon, seemed to announce to the superstitious minds of the Crusaders the destined moment for the ruin and destruction of the infidels.[114]

They awaited the signal with impatience. The garrison of Antioch was plunged in sleep; Phirous alone watched, and meditated his conspiracy. A Lombard named Payen, sent by Bohemond, mounted the tower by a ladder of leather. Phirous received him, telling him all was ready; and as an evidence of his fidelity, pointed to the dead body of his brother, whom he had just slain. Whilst they were conversing, an officer of the garrison came to visit the posts. He presented himself, with a lantern in his hand, before the tower Phirous commanded. The latter, without appearing the least disturbed, made the emissary of Bohemond conceal himself, and went forward to meet the officer. After receiving praise for his vigilance, he hastened to send Payen back with instructions for the prince of Tarentum. The Lombard, on his return to the army, related what he had seen, and, on the part of Phirous, conjured Bohemond not to lose another moment.

But all at once fear took possession of the soldiers; at the moment of execution all saw the whole extent of the danger, and not one of them put himself forward to mount the rampart. In vain Godfrey and the prince of Tarentum employed by turns promises and threats; both leaders and soldiers remained motionless.[115] Bohemond himself ascended by a ladder of ropes, in the hope that he should be seconded by the most brave; but nobody felt it his duty to follow in his footsteps. He reached the tower alone, where Phirous reproached him warmly for his delay. Bohemond hastily descended to his soldiers, and repeated to them that all was ready to receive them. His discourse, and still more, his example, at length reanimated their courage, and sixty of them commenced the escalade. They ascended by the ladder of leather, led on by one Foulcher de Chartres, whom the historian of Tancred compares to an eagle conducting her young ones, and flying at their head.[116] Among these sixty brave men was the count of Flanders, together with several of the principal chiefs. Very soon sixty more Crusaders quickly pressed upon the heels of the first,[117] and these again were followed by such numbers and with such precipitation, that the parapet to which the ladder was fixed tottered, and at length fell with a loud crash into the ditch. Such as were nearly attaining the summit of the tower fell upon the lances and swords of their companions who were following them. Disorder and confusion prevailed among the assailants, nevertheless the leaders of the plot viewed everything with a tranquil eye. Phirous embraced his new companions over the bloody corpse of his brother; he even yielded to their swords another brother who happened to be with him, and then surrendered to the Crusaders the three towers intrusted to his command. Seven other towers soon fell into their hands, and Phirous loudly summoned the whole Christian army to his aid. He fixed a new ladder to the rampart, by which the most impatient ascended, and he pointed out to others a gate which they might easily burst open, and by it crowds rushed into the city.

Godfrey, Raymond, and the duke of Normandy were soon in the streets of Antioch at the head of their battalions. All the trumpets were sounded, and from the four hills the city resounded with the terrible cry of “It is the will of God! It is the will of God!” At the first report of the tumult, the Christians dwelling in Antioch all believed that their last hour was come, and that the Mussulmans were about to sacrifice them. The latter, half asleep, poured out of their houses to ascertain the cause of the noise they heard, and died without knowing who were the traitors, or by whose hands they were slain. Some, when aware of the danger, fled towards the mountain upon which the citadel was built, whilst others rushed out at the gates of the city. All who could not fly fell beneath the swords of the conquerors.

In the midst of this bloody victory, Bohemond did not neglect taking formal possession of Antioch, and at dawn his red standard was seen floating over one of the highest towers of the city. At the sight of this the Crusaders who were left in charge of the camp broke into loud acclamations of joy, and hastened to take a part in this fresh conquest of the Christians. The slaughter of the Mussulmans was continued with unabated fury. The greater part of the Christians of Antioch, who, during the siege, had suffered much from the tyranny of the infidels, joined their liberators, several exhibiting the fetters by which they had been loaded by the Turks, and thus further provoking the vindictive spirit of the victorious army. The public places were covered with dead bodies, and blood flowed in torrents in the streets. The soldiers penetrated into the houses; religious emblems pointed out such as were Christians, sacred hymns indicated their brethren; but everything that was not marked with a cross became the object of vengeance, and all who pronounced not the name of Christ were massacred without mercy.

In a single night more than six thousand of the inhabitants of Antioch perished. Many of those who had fled into the neighbouring fields were pursued and brought back into the city, where they found either slavery or death. In the first moments of the confusion, Accien, seeing that he was betrayed, and no longer daring to trust any of his officers, resolved to fly towards Mesopotamia, and go to meet the army of KerboghÂ. Escaping through one of the gates, he proceeded without an escort over mountains and through forests, till he fell in with some Armenian woodcutters. These men at once recognised the prince of Antioch, and as he bore upon his countenance marks of depression and grief, they judged that the city must be taken. One of them, drawing near to him, snatched his sword from him, and plunged it into his body. His head was carried to the new masters of Antioch, and Phirous had an opportunity of contemplating without fear the features of him who, the day before, might have sentenced him to death. After having received great riches as the reward of his treachery, this renegade embraced the Christianity he had abandoned, and followed the Crusaders to Jerusalem. Two years afterwards, his ambition not being satisfied, he returned to the religion of Mahomet, and died abhorred by both Mussulmans and Christians, whose cause he had by turns embraced and betrayed.

When the Christians were tired of slaughter, they prepared to attack the citadel; but as it was built upon a mountain, inaccessible on most sides, all their efforts were useless. They contented themselves with surrounding it with soldiers and machines of war, in order to confine the garrison, and then spread themselves throughout the city, giving way to all the intoxication which their victory inspired. The pillage of Antioch had yielded them immense riches; and although they had found but a small stock of provisions, they abandoned themselves to the most extravagant excesses of intemperance and debauchery.

These events passed in the early days of June, 1098; the siege of Antioch had been begun in the month of October of the preceding year. After this victory, three days passed quickly away in the midst of rejoicings, but the fourth was a day of fear and mourning.

A formidable army of Saracens was drawing near to Antioch. From the earliest period of the siege, Accien, and the sultan of Nice, whom the Christians had despoiled of his dominions, had applied to all the Mussulman powers to procure assistance against the warriors of the West. The supreme head of the Seljoucides, the sultan of Persia, had promised to aid them; and at his voice all Corassan, says Matthew of Edessa, Media, Babylon, a part of Asia Minor, and all the East, from Damascus and the sea-coast to Jerusalem and Arabia, had arisen at once to attack the Christians.[118] KerboghÂ, sultan of Mossoul, commanded this army of the Mussulmans. This warrior had fought for a length of time, at one period for the sultan of Persia ’Barkiarok), at others for the various princes of the family of Malek-Scha, who contended for the empire. Often defeated, and twice a prisoner, he had grown old amidst the tumults of civil war. As full of contempt for the Christians as of confidence in himself, a true model of the fierce Circassian celebrated by Tasso, he considered himself the liberator of Asia, and traversed Mesopotamia with all the pomp and splendour of a conqueror. The sultans of Nice, Aleppo, and Damascus, with the governor of Jerusalem and twenty-eight emirs from Persia, Palestine, and Syria, marched under his command. The Mussulman soldiers were animated by a thirst for vengeance, and swore by their prophet to exterminate all the Christians. On the third day after the taking of Antioch, the army of Kerbogh pitched its tents on the banks of the Orontes.

The Christians were made aware of its arrival by a detachment of three hundred horsemen, who came to reconnoitre the place, and advanced even under the walls. Inquietude and alarm succeeded immediately to festivity and rejoicing. They found that they had not stores to sustain a siege; and several of their leaders were sent with their troops towards the port of St. Simeon, and into the neighbouring country, to collect all the provisions they could find; but the territory of Antioch had been so completely ravaged during many months, that they could not procure anything like enough for the maintenance of a numerous army. The return of all who had been sent in quest of provisions completed the terror of the Christians. At the very moment of their arrival the infidels attacked the advanced posts of the Crusaders; and, even in these early contests, the Christian army had to lament the loss of several of its bravest warriors. Bohemond was wounded in a sortie; in vain Tancred and Godfrey performed prodigies of valour; the Mussulmans forced the Christians to shut themselves up in a place of which the latter had but just made themselves masters, and in which they were soon closely besieged in their turn.

Placed between the garrison of the citadel and a besieging army, the Crusaders found themselves in a most critical position. To prevent their being relieved by any supplies by sea, two thousand Mussulmans were sent by Kerbogh to take possession of the port of St. Simeon, and of all vessels which brought provisions to the Christian army. Famine was not long in making its appearance, and soon exercised cruel ravages among the besieged.

From the earliest period of the siege the Crusaders could scarcely procure the common necessaries of life at their weight in gold. A loaf of moderate size sold at a bezant, an egg was worth six Lucquese deniers, whilst a pound of silver was given for the head of an ox, a horse, or an ass. Godfrey bought for fifteen silver marks a half-starved camel, and gave three marks for a goat, which at other times would have been rejected by the poorest soldiers of his army. Surrounded by the vast riches conquered from the Saracens, the Crusaders were thus condemned to all the horrors and miseries of famine. After having killed most of their horses, they were compelled to make war upon unclean animals. The soldiers and the poor who followed the army supported themselves on roots and leaves; some went so far as to devour the leather of their bucklers and shoes, whilst the most wretched exhumed the bodies of the Saracens, and, to support their miserable existence, disputed with death for his prey. In this frightful distress, disconsolate mothers could no longer nourish their babes, and died with famine and despair. Princes and knights, whose pride and haughtiness had been the most conspicuous, were brought to the necessity of asking alms. The count of Flanders went begging to the houses and in the streets of Antioch for the commonest and coarsest orts, and often obtained none. More than one leader sold his arms and all his appointments for food to support him a single day. As long as the duke of Lorraine had any provisions he shared them with his companions; but at length he made the sacrifice of his last war-horse, and found himself, as were all the other Crusaders, reduced to the most cruel necessities.

Many of the Crusaders endeavoured to fly from a city which presented to them nothing but the image and the prospect of death; some fled by sea, through a thousand dangers, whilst others cast themselves amongst the Mussulmans, where they purchased a little bread by the abandonment of Christ and his religion. The soldiers necessarily lost courage when they saw that count de Melun, who so often defied death in the field, a second time fly from famine and misery. His desertion was preceded by that of the count de Blois, who bore the standard of the Crusaders, and presided at their councils. He had quitted the army two days before the taking of Antioch, and when he learned the arrival of KerboghÂ, he, with his troops, immediately marched towards Constantinople.

Deserters made their escape during the darkness of night. Sometimes they precipitated themselves into the ditches of the city, at the risk of their lives; sometimes they descended from the ramparts by means of a cord. Every day the Christians found themselves abandoned by an increasing number of their companions; and these desertions added to their despair. Heaven was invoked against the dastards; God was implored that they might, in another life, share the fate of the traitor Judas. The ignominious epithet of rope-dancers ’sauteurs de corde) was attached to their names, and devoted them to the contempt of their companions. William of Tyre refuses to name the crowd of knights who then deserted the cause of Jesus Christ, because he considers them as blotted out from the book of life for ever.[119] The wishes of the Christians against those who fled were but too completely fulfilled; the greater part perished from want, and others were killed by the Saracens. Stephen, count of Chartres, more fortunate than his companions, succeeded in reaching the camp of Alexius, who was advancing with an army towards Antioch. To excuse his desertion, he did not fail to paint, in the darkest colours, all the misfortunes and dangers of the Christians, and to make it appear by his accounts that God had abandoned the cause of the Crusaders. The despair of several Latin pilgrims who followed the army of the Greeks was so violent, that it urged them to horrible blasphemies.[120] They, groaning, asked why the true God had permitted the destruction of his people? why he had allowed them, who were going to deliver the tomb of his Son, to fall into the hands of his enemies? Nothing was heard among the Latin Crusaders but such strange speeches, and Guy, the brother of Bohemond, exceeded all the rest in his despair. In the excess of his grief, he blasphemed more than any, and could not understand the mysteries of Providence, which betrayed the cause of the Christians. “O God,” cried he, “what is become of thy power? If thou art still an all-powerful God, what is become of thy justice? Are we not thy children, are we not thy soldiers? Who is the father of a family, who is the king who thus suffers his own to perish when he has the power to save them? If you abandon those who fight for you, who will dare, henceforward, to range themselves under your sacred banner?” In their blind grief, all the Crusaders repeated these impious words. Such was the frenzy of despair in which sorrow had plunged them, that, according to the report of contemporary historians, all ceremonies of religion were suspended, and no priest or layman during many days pronounced the name of Jesus Christ.