The Siege of Jerusalem: Crusade and Conquest in 1099 Read online

  Slashed in the throat and legs, Gerard screamed out for help in the nave of the church, but the poor in the church and the clergy who were not involved in the conspiracy were too afraid to come to his assistance. Th

  is hero of the First

  Crusade, celebrated in song across Europe, bled to death before the altar: a squalid and ignominious end to a proud military career in the service of the Church.6

  Th

  e short expedition by Gerard and the two Roberts was entirely successful in that they returned to camp without injury. Th

  e quality of the timber they

  brought with them, was, however, disappointing. It was too soft to serve for the construction of sturdy siege equipment and the northern camp therefore had to plan on making a major undertaking to obtain timber from the woods around Nablus.7 Of the northern leaders, the prince most dedicated to the spiritual aspect of the crusade was Robert of Flanders. Every day he proudly displayed his cross over his armour and he harboured no ambition to be ruler of Jerusalem. Rather, he wanted to worship at the Holy Sepulchre, to restore the Holy City to Christian rule, then return to northern Europe with his men.

  When he off ered to lead a body of woodsmen to Nablus it was not, therefore, an act prompted by a desire to win popular approval for the sake of his future ambitions in the region. He simply accepted that the risky journey had to be undertaken by someone and was prepared to volunteer.

  Robert’s was a force of 200 soldiers, enough that he feared no attack from Fatimid scouts or the ambushes of local Muslims. His concern, however, was that by straying some three days from the main Christian army, he might encounter the full askar of one of the stronger Muslim leaders of the region. In particular, the greatest danger lay 150 kilometres to the northeast, where Duqaq, the powerful emir of Damascus, was quite capable of bringing his troops south on learning of the proximity of a small Christian army.

  In the event, the actual experience of those who undertook the hazardous search for timber turned out to be pleasant rather than dangerous. Th e Christian

  detachment was undisturbed by any alarms or any sightings of Muslim troops.

  Th

  ey were in a region with plenty of fresh water and, at last, both man and beast could slake their thirst as oft en as they pleased. Having set up camp, the woodsmen chopped down the trees, lopped them, and cut them into stout lengths of timber, while the knights enjoyed their favourite pastime: hunting. Away from

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  the hardship of the dry siege, the knights from Flanders were in their element.

  Th

  eir daily hunting expeditions provided fresh meat at night for everyone, worker and soldier alike. For a few days their hardships outside the walls of Jerusalem were forgotten. But this idyll could not last, time was against the Christian army and as soon as they had prepared all the wood their beasts could carry, they set off on the return journey. Th

  e slow-moving convoy laden

  with timber was sent ahead with some of the soldiers while the majority of knights formed the rearguard. Th

  eir safe return to the northern camp several

  days aft er their departure was received with great jubilation and a universal increase in belief that it would be possible to take the city.8

  Moreover, the northern camp had just benefi ted from a stroke of great fortune. Tancred, who regularly rode on patrol with his 40 knights, had been suff ering from dysentery. On one of these patrols, he had been struck by a sudden need for privacy in order to relieve himself; consequently Tancred dismounted from his horse and retreated to the dark shadows of a rocky outcrop.

  Astonishingly, he discovered 400 lengths of timber hidden in the darkness.

  Th

  is was wood that had already been smoothed and prepared for use. Al-Afdal’s army had hidden the wood the previous autumn, as surplus to their needs following the surrender of Jerusalem. A celebratory procession greeted Tancred as news of his discovery spread through the army. In the space of a few days, the outlook of the Christian army had improved dramatically. Th

  e northern

  camp had secured the essential supplies of wood that they needed, while the southern camp had acquired men with the expertise and tools to make that wood into the fi nest siege equipment known in the art of warfare. 9

  For the fi rst time since the arrival of the Christian army, Ift ikhār was seriously perturbed. Th

  e signs of vigorous activity and the sounds of construction

  coming from the crusaders’ camps gave a new, more professional, tone to their armies. Messengers were sent to Cairo, encouraging al-Afdal to hasten his preparations to come and lift the siege while the Christians were still outside the walls and vulnerable to attack. At the same time Ift ikhār attempted to dispatch spies to gather more information as to what was afoot. Th at his initiative was unsuccessful, however, was due to the fact that the Christian army had its own spies in the city. Just as Bohemond had cultivated contacts inside the city of Antioch, so his nephew, Tancred, was attentive to the local Christians whom he had been the fi rst to encounter thanks to his dash to Bethlehem on 6 June. Th

  ese sympathizers of the crusaders were able to slip up

  to the city in the darkness and whisper to their friends on the walls. Neither the Christian army nor the Muslim garrison were sizeable enough to secure the

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  entire boundaries of the city and in particular the eastern side of Jerusalem, which dropped away so quickly to the rocky Kidron valley, was a place where a careful person could make their way undetected.

  Tancred learned from his contacts that Ift ikhār was communicating with Cairo through the use of this valley and that messengers were moving back and forth in secret. He took this information to a private meeting of the most senior princes of both camps. Th

  ere it was agreed to co-operate in a nighttime ambush.

  Keeping the plan to just those knights whom it was necessary to mobilize, once the sun was down small groups of crusaders took up their places. Th ey stationed knights on the Mount of Olives, on all the approaching paths, and stole quietly down along the bottom of the valley itself. Th

  eir plan was entirely suc-

  cessful. Not long aft er nightfall, two Muslim messengers who had journeyed from Ascalon with communications for Ift ikhār from al-Afdal ran straight into one of the ambushing parties. Th

  ey were quickly restrained, but an overeager

  Christian knight nearly ruined the value of the operation by stabbing one of captives with his spear and killing him. Th

  e other unfortunate was brought to

  the camp, where the princes came hurriedly to interrogate him.

  What could the messenger do? He might not have believed the promises of the Christian princes to reward him with his life, but there was no doubting that when the crusaders put it to him bluntly that unless he co-operated they would torture him, they meant it. Th

  e Fatimid messenger told them all he knew.

  Th

  e main content of the information he carried was that al-Afdal was on the march and expected to be at Jerusalem within 15 days. Th

  e defenders of the city

  were therefore not to show any fear or make any agreement with the Christians, but to stand fi rm in the knowledge that a great army was coming to liberate them.

  Once they were satisfi ed the messenger had no other information of interest, the princes gave him back to the group of knights who had made the capture.

  Th

  ese soldiers amused themselves throughout the night with arguments about what to do with their prisoner. By the next day they were decided. It was time to test one of the new mangonels. Binding the poor man’s feet to his hands, they trussed him up and placed him in the throwing cup of the machine. Th en

  they aimed the machine at the city, hoping to toss their prisoner ov
er the walls.

  Th

  e game was a disappointment to them, however, as the man’s weight was too great for the machine to cast any distance. Th

  e Fatimid messenger fell far short

  of the walls, shattering his bones on impact with the stony ground.10

  Inside the city the tempo of the siege also rose. If the Christians were at last conducting themselves like a serious army, there would soon be a duel of stone-throwing machines. Ift ikhār had been with al-Afdal the previous year when the

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  Fatimid attack on the city had been victorious because they considerably outnumbered the defenders in such devices. He was determined that the crusaders would not be allowed to wear away at the city walls in the same manner. All available timber and rope was marshalled in the construction of additional mangonels for the city. Furthermore, bags were sewn and stuff ed with straw, before being piled up at strategic points beside the walls. If the crusader machines proved to be capable of damaging the stone, these bags could be lowered on ropes in order to cushion the impact of the fl ying rocks.

  When Ift ikhār had learned that the Christian army might come to Jerusalem he had done all he could to make the city secure and to make sure that no resources, whether water or wood, were available for his enemies in the vicinity of the city. Th

  e other important measure he had taken was to expel many

  of those Syrian Christians who might be sympathetic to the crusading army.

  Th

  is had the advantage of reducing the possibility of acts of betrayal within the city, but it also led to the Christian army having – at their camp or in nearby Bethlehem – a body of local supporters keen to supply them with information about where water and wood could be found. Additionally, unknown to Ift ikhār, information from within the city was coming to the crusader camp through these intermediaries.

  All the Fatimid soldiers from nearby fortresses along with Muslim inhabitants of the countryside around Jerusalem had hurried to the city in the fi rst week of June and they were quartered in the empty houses. Since Ift ikhār remained suspicious as to the loyalties of the remaining Christians, to keep a watch upon them he placed the refugees from the surrounding areas in to the Christian households. Th

  is solved two problems at a stroke. Th

  e responsibility

  of feeding the hundreds of displaced Muslims was given to the host household and at the same time a constant scrutiny could ensure there would be no repetition of the events of Antioch, where ultimately the city fell due to the discontent of Firuz, a guardian of a stretch of the walls.

  Th

  e situation for the Christians within Jerusalem was extremely diffi cult.

  Hated and mistrusted by everyone else inside the walls, they were also the targets of offi

  cial hostility stemming from the commands of Ift ikhār. Not only

  did households barely able to feed themselves have to share what little food they had with strangers, but also they were subject to new and heavy duties.

  Large payments of money were demanded from them and to encourage compliance, several prominent fi gures were led off in chains. When there were heavy loads to be moved, it was the Christian population that was aroused and compelled to do the carrying. At any hour, day or night, they were liable to be summoned and if they delayed at all Muslim soldiers would grab hold of their

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  hair and beards to drag them out of their residences. Th

  ose who had skills in

  any of the trades were obliged to work for the defence of the city. Where stone or timber was lacking, it was Christian homes that were broken down to supply the materials.

  Most dangerously of all, the Christians inside Jerusalem at the time of the siege were vulnerable to the accusation of spying for the crusaders. It was later said that Gerard, the founder of the Hospitallers – the guardians of the Christian hospice at Jerusalem – was in the city at the time of the siege. He did his best to assist those outside by pretending to throw rocks at them, but his missiles were in fact loaves of bread. On being accused of treachery and taken to Ift ikhār, the loaves of bread in his clothing, which were to act as evidence against him, had miraculously changed to stones and he escaped punishment.11

  Th

  e less romantic fact of the situation was that there were indeed some Christians who did their best to assist their co-religionists outside the walls.

  Tancred, in particular, was working with the Syrian Christians outside the walls to develop contacts within the city. Suspicion of such treachery fell upon the entirety of the Christian community. Every unfortunate accident was attributed to the Christian enemy within the walls. It became dangerous for them to leave their houses without rousing suspicion. No Christian dared ascend the walls or appear in public unless carrying some burden. Even then, the Christian citizen was subject to constant insults. An accusation arising from the whim of anyone who felt like playing informer could quickly see the Christian being carried off to imprisonment, whether the accusations were true or not.12

  By contrast with the Syrian Christians, the Jewish population of the city, both Rabbanite and Karaite, were considered entirely reliable. Th ey had once

  inhabited the southern part of Jerusalem, around Mount Zion, but when the lines of the city walls were redrawn, their communities were outside the new defences. As a result a new Jewish quarter had been established in the northeast sector of the city. Among them were famous scholars, theologians, grammari-ans, philosophers, lawyers and students who had travelled to Jerusalem from all over the Mediterranean. Indeed, the city was such an attraction to the Jewish population of Spain that a distinct Spanish colony existed within the city. Th ose

  from the Jewish community who could fi ght did so. Th

  ose who could assist

  Ift ikhār with the administration of the siege performed that service and were stationed at the citadel. And those who could not give direct aid to the Muslim ruler did what they could to help in the construction of siege equipment. Th ey

  had just as much reason to dread the fall of the city to the Christian army as any Muslim citizen, as the entire course of the crusade had demonstrated, from its origins in northern Europe to the massacres at nearby cities such at Ma’arra.

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  e news of the horrifi c pogroms perpetrated by these crusaders on the Jewish communities of the Rhineland had reached Jerusalem and the Jewish population knew they could expect no mercy in the event the city was taken.13

  Ift ikhār had a more ambivalent attitude towards the smaller Samaritan community, a religious group who were similar to the Jewish community in that they based their beliefs on a version of the Torah. By medieval times Samaritans were considered to be closer to the views of the Muslims than the other religions of Palestine. As al-Dimashqī (writing c.1300) put it: ‘some say that if a Muslim and a Jew and a Samaritan and a Christian meet on the road, the Samaritan will join the Muslim.’14 Samaritans participated in the Fatimid administration, but they had also, like the Christians, suff ered at times from bouts of heavy taxation. Th

  e common experience of being discriminated

  against by the Muslim authorities made the Samaritans potential allies of the Christians and even though the crusaders were unlikely to distinguish between the Samaritan and Jewish communities, Ift ikhār considered them as neutrals in the current situation.

  All in all, the Fatimid governor had done all he could to mobilize the resources of the city against the besiegers and exert eff ective control over the population. Th

  anks to the presence of skilled workers and ample supplies of

  equipment, his stone-throwing machines were more than a match for those of the Christians. In particular, there was a large mangonel under construction whose missil
es, he hoped, would be able to reach to the enemy camp on Mount Zion. If he could burn that down, then concentrate his artillery on the north side, he had every reason to hope that the city would remain intact until the arrival of al-Afdal.

  Chapter 6

  Preparing for the Assault

  As June turned to July, matters were clearly approaching a crisis point. Working hard in the dust and heat, with an enthusiasm generated by their recent luck in obtaining timber and skilled woodworkers, the crusaders were near to completing a whole array of siege machines: mangonels; ‘hybrid’ trebuchets; a ram; and, most crucially, two enormous wooden towers. Inside the city the garrison and the citizens – with the exception of the remaining Christians – were determined to match every eff ort of their enemies beyond the walls. Th ey laboured

  continuously to ensure that they would outnumber the crusaders in stone-throwing devices and both soldiers and civilians collected rocks to pile them up beside the machines for ammunition. Everyone, both inside and outside the city, was spurred on by the knowledge that a few more weeks would see the arrival of the vizier of Cairo with a great army.

  Day by day, the two wooden towers grew in height. Both were built so that their top platform was higher than the walls of Jerusalem, putting them at over 15 metres tall. Th

  ey were huge aff airs, which the defenders of the city gazed

  upon with considerable anxiety. Th

  at built by William Embraico on Mount

  Zion was the more impressive of the two; effi

  ciently jointed, it had an air of

  solidity that the northern one lacked. Th

  e advantage of having proper tools and

  skilled workers showed in the way that those who climbed to the top to survey the city ahead of them barely felt it stir. By contrast, the creaks and swaying of the upper reaches of the northern tower did not entirely inspire confi dence.

  Th

  e princes of the northern camp had decided to nominate Gaston of