The Siege of Jerusalem: Crusade and Conquest in 1099 Page 5

  e bishop and the count had, at fi rst, each built a mangonel. Th

  ese rock throw-

  ers of ancient design were essentially massive wooden spoons, given energy by rope torsion. Having been hauled down into a horizontal position with the missile placed in the cup, the arm of the device springs up to a vertical position when released, where it is checked by a cross bar. Th

  is causes the contents of

  the bowl of the spoon to be fl ung forward at great speed, but a relatively low trajectory. Aft er fi ve weeks of chipping away at the same tower with such devices, it was clear that the two they had constructed were insuffi

  cient to seriously

  damage the walls. A number of other siege engines were built and, at last, cracks began to appear in the face of the tower. Encouraged by this, the crusaders charged the tower, with a wickerwork ‘tortoise’ over their heads off ering some protection from arrows. Once at the walls, the crusaders set to work on the cracks with iron spikes, hacking away at the masonry. By inserting wooden props and burning them, the process of undermining the walls could be accelerated.

  But even so, this took time, too much time. It was nightfall before sizeable chunks of masonry were coming lose and the garrison were responding to the threat. Having pulled back due to the coming of night, the Provençals found that by the next morning the tower had been fi lled with rubble. To attempt to move these rocks was a disheartening and dangerous experience from which the Provençals had to reluctantly withdraw. 27

  At this stage of the siege Alexius was playing an active role in events. His generals, Taticius, Tzitas and Boutoumites, were camped with the Latin crusaders and it was Byzantine ships that contributed to a decisive tightening of the siege. Th

  at they were able to do was thanks to a very ambitious decision by the

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  T H E S I E G E O F J E R U S A L E M

  crusading army. On the night of 17 June at a large assembly of all contingents, the commoners agreed to take oxen, horses and their own considerable manpower, place themselves in harnesses and drag the ships seven miles from Civitot to the lake. Th

  ousands of crusaders responded to the proposal with enthusiasm.

  Like a nest of ants, they poured along the paths to the sea and hauled the ships overland. Before dawn, the Byzantine navy was lying in wait on the lake waters, where they set up a blockade. Th

  e leaders of the city looked with horror at the

  unexpected appearance of these ships. Not only was this an end to their supply route, it was testimony to the tremendous determination of the army outside.

  Th

  is was warfare not just against fellow warriors, but also the many-handed creature that was the mob of Christian commoners.

  Greatly encouraged by their success in setting up a complete blockade of the city, the united army tried once more to capture the tower that had been weakened by the Provençals. Th

  is time they brought up a battering ram, only to have

  it burned as a result of the grease, oil and pitch mixture that the Turkish troops poured from the walls and ignited with burning torches. Others working at demolishing the walls were smashed to the ground by rocks or pierced with arrows. One Turkish soldier, having been wounded and giving up on life, stood right out above the Christians and continued to throw rocks down with both hands, despite the many arrows that were sticking out of his torso. Th e true

  weapons of the nobility at this time were the lance and the sword. But the crossbow was becoming an eff ective tool and Duke Godfrey had learned its use, in fact he was an expert shot. Watching this soldier rage above those trying to dig away at the walls of the tower, killing many of them, Godfrey summoned two of his comrades, who provided cover with their shields. Th

  ese three edged

  carefully into range, where Godfrey took aim, before sending a dart soaring right into the warrior’s heart, killing him instantly. Once more, however, the sun set without a breach having been made and with many losses, mostly on the Christian side.28

  Th

  e following morning, the attackers were disheartened to see that all their work of the previous day had come to nothing. More rubble had been piled up inside the tower. One knight, a follower of Robert of Normandy, tried to rally the crusaders to a further eff ort. Relying on the protection of his helmet, shield and chainmail hauberk, he ran to the walls and began to pull at the heaps of stones. But a deluge of rocks fell to replace each that was moved. To avoid the javelins being fl ung at him, this knight now stood directly under the walls where his dilemma was acute. Run back towards the Christian lines? He would almost certainly be caught in a hail of missiles. But standing still was not an option either. Already he was dodging heavy stones and defl ecting them with

  I N T H E B E G I N N I N G

  23

  his shield. Across the no-man’s land, the Christians were gathering themselves, but no one wanted to charge across to the tower, risking death for what looked like a hopeless task. Yet more and more stones were falling upon the knight.

  Before he could realize his only hope was to run, the strength of Norman gave way beneath the crushing weight of a large rock and in an instant his formerly agile body was a broken-boned ruin lying right up against the wall. Not only did the watching crusaders mourn guiltily the loss of a hero; they also were dismayed about the probable loss of such precious armour. For the Turkish soldiers now had a new game, they had a chain prepared with hooks, which they fl ung down at the body. Eventually they caught hold of it and dragged the corpse of the knight up and over the wall. Soon it was on display, naked, hanging by a noose outside the walls, to the horror and shame of the Christian army.29

  It was a master craft sman from Lombardy who ensured the prompt surrender of the city on 19 June. He came to the princes, promising to build a more eff ective covering protection than that of Hartmann and Henry, in return for 15 pounds of silver. Th

  e resulting fox was sturdy and yet mobile. Its constructor

  was suffi

  ciently confi dent of the device that he was inside when it was manoeuvred right up to the walls of the city. Th

  ere, despite the best eff orts of the garri-

  son, the steep slopes of the machine meant that rocks and fl aming torches were defl ected while those inside dug right down beneath the foundations of a tower.

  Th

  ere they propped up the stone with enormous oak beams, while continuing to take earth away. Once satisfi ed with the digging, the Lombard had the space under the wall fi lled with kindling and carefully withdrew without taking any loses. Th

  e fi re that resulted was unquenchable by those within the city. During the night both sides watched the orange glow, until, with a crash louder than thunder, the wall of the tower collapsed.30

  On hearing this terrible sound, the wife of Qilij Arslān took to a ship with her two sons and tried to use the cover of darkness to escape to her husband by sailing through the blockade on the lake. Th

  e alert squadron intercepted her

  and handed her over to the Christian princes. Th

  e news of her capture was

  soon shouted across to those in the city, to dishearten them further. At this point Boutoumites, the Byzantine commander based at the lake, entered into secret negotiations with the Turkish offi

  cers. Th

  e terms off ered by Alexius were

  generous. Th

  e family of Qilij Arslān would be returned to the sultan. None of the garrison would be harmed and, indeed, the offi

  cers would be given valuable

  gift s. Th

  e only stumbling point was the Christian army. Could Boutoumites

  speak for them? Th

  e Greek general contacted Taticius, who was camped with

  the Latin forces. Between them, the Niceans and the Greeks agreed to make it look like Boutoumites had broken into the city during a day of busy fi ghting.

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  T H E S I E G E O F J E R U S A L E M

  Th

  e plan was successful if rather nerve-wracking for Boutoumites, who was inside the city with the relatively small numbers of his troops and at the mercy of the Turks, should they change their mind about the surrender. 31

  Once it was apparent that the blare of bugles and waving of Byzantine banners on the walls of the city meant the siege was at an end, the delight of victory quickly soured among many of the Latin crusaders, who had anticipated considerable booty on the sacking of the Nicea. Th

  e princes, however, were given

  generous gift s from Alexius and the very poor obtained a distribution of food.

  It was the foot soldiers especially who were bitter. Th

  ey were envious and even

  hostile to their own princes, pointing out that they had done all the hard work but gotten none of the reward. With the Byzantines refusing to let the Latins into the city, except in groups of ten to visit the sacred places, there was nothing that could be done at this stage. But the lesson was not lost and the question of who had the rights to captured property was to become a central issue in the Christian army: to the cost of many Muslim and Jewish lives in the cities that lay in their path.

  Chapter 2

  Endurance

  Th

  e fall of the seemingly impregnable city of Nicea should have been a moment of great satisfaction for the Christian forces. Instead it revealed fault lines that were to persist all the way to Jerusalem and aff ect the conduct of the siege there. First, was it proper that the Byzantine emperor should own the city? For the princes who had sworn oaths of fealty to Alexius, the position was an unambiguous yes. Aft er all, they had agreed that Nicea and other formerly Byzantine cities were to be restored to the empire. For the great majority of crusaders though, the situation was less clear. It was the crusading army, not that of the Greeks, that had taken all the risks, surely it should be one of their own who was the new lord of the city? Many voiced the word ‘betrayal’ and continued to do so for the remainder of the expedition.

  Secondly, what had become of the wealth of the city? Th

  e precious orna-

  ments; the rich cloths; the abundance of food? It was all very well that Alexius had made gift s to the princes and set up a Latin monastery and hospice for the infi rm. Th

  ese were actions that benefi ted only a small minority at the very top and very bottom of the social hierarchy; the emperor had done nothing for the knights and foot soldiers who had risked their lives attacking the walls of the city. By word of mouth, by common accord – in other words, without consult-ing the princes – this sense of injustice translated into a new understanding on the question of booty. Next time, captured property would be dispensed diff erently. Next time, no matter what the princes said, the policy would be ‘fi rst come, fi rst served’. One important consequence of the fact that Nicea avoided being sacked was that the crusading army now decided to take the question of loot into its own hands. Th

  is grim resolution was to lead to extraordinarily vio-

  lent scenes on the subsequent capture of Muslim cities, not least in Jerusalem itself.

  A source of great delight to the entire army was the release of many Christians from the prisons of Nicea. Survivors of the massacre at Civitot were enthusiastically reunited with the fragments of Peter the Hermit’s following, swelling the numbers of poor crusaders willing to continue the journey. Even here, however, the collective joy was soured by a curious incident. A nun from

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  T H E S I E G E O F J E R U S A L E M

  the convent of St Mary at Trier had been captured at the time of the disaster at Civitot. Th

  e poor creature had been given over to a Turkish warrior as a bed-room slave and was thus a ruined woman unless she could obtain repentance.

  Th

  anks to the intervention of Henry of Esch, to whom she had tearfully appealed on recognizing him, Adhémar, as spiritual head of the crusading forces, granted her forgiveness. Th

  e weight of the nun’s penance was relatively

  light, given that her defi lement had been unwilling. All, therefore, was properly examined, adjudicated and enacted. Th

  e nun was restored to her former sacred

  condition with no blemish on her character. And yet the story had an unexpected turn. Th

  e Turkish warrior to whom she had been given had fallen for his

  prisoner. Following the surrender of the Nicea, he was temporarily a prisoner in the hands of the Byzantine emperor. Despite this, and confi dent in his future release pending negotiations between Alexius and Qilij Arslān, the warrior sent a messenger to his former captive. If she would escape the Christian camp and come to him, they would be lovers again and she would live a pleasant life with his generous support. Astonishingly, she agreed to the plan.1

  Here was a woman who had been fi lled with enthusiasm for the crusade by Peter the Hermit, who as a penitent pilgrim had survived the chaotic rout of Peter’s army in Hungary, the hardship of hunger, the massacre of her friends at Civitot. What greater fears could she have held than to be a slave of those pagans whom the Christians marched against? And yet this enormous dedication to the Christian cause evaporated in the light of her actual experience as a captive.

  Th

  e incident was rather demoralizing to the Christian army as her actions stood in such stark contrast to their own faith. Did she really believe that life with a Turkish soldier was better than one dedicated to Christ? In the end, her defection was rationalized by those who said her Turkish captor had promised to become a Christian in order to marry her, or the less charitable who believed that it was the sin of lust that had conquered the nun.

  A week aft er the fall of Nicea, on 26 June 1097, the crusade set out southwards. Th

  ey fell into two distinct forces, already a sign of deeper rivalries to come. Th

  e main body of the crusading army, with Robert of Flanders, Hugh

  the Great, Godfrey of Lotharingia, Raymond of Toulouse and Adhémar of Le Puy was some two miles behind the vanguard. Th

  ose in the lead were

  Robert of Normandy, Stephen of Blois, Bohemond and Tancred, who at this moment was in a rage at his uncle. It had not escaped the notice of the Byzantine Emperor that Tancred had failed to perform an act of homage to him and had made no oath to return the former Byzantine cities to the empire. Alexius therefore insisted to Bohemond that Tancred must take the oath of fealty. Th is

  placed Bohemond in a very diffi

  cult position. Although the trick of crossing

  E N D U R A N C E

  27

  the Bosphorus in disguise had made Tancred the champion of those hostile to the emperor, Bohemond decided it was better, at this stage, not to alienate Alexius. Despite being cursed by Tancred for weakness, Bohemond brought the young prince before the emperor. Here, though, despite his youth, Tancred rose to the occasion. In his speech the Norman prince made it clear that his oath of fealty to Alexius was conditional: it was taken on the understanding that the emperor acted as the common leader of the crusade and should the promised material support fail to appear, then the oath was void. Th

  e suggestion that the

  Byzantines might cease to support the crusade was treated with indignation by the Greeks, but there was a clamour of approval from those Latins present at the scene.

  Better still, as far as the followers of Tancred were concerned, was his answer to a very generous off er by the emperor. In an eff ort to conciliate the young knight, Alexius asked Tancred to name anything belonging to the emperor, no matter how precious, and it would be given to him. Aft er all, Alexius had a treasury beyond compare. Th

  e emperor was stunned, however, at the imperti-

  nence of Tancred’s reply. Rather than ask for a gold, silver, horses or precious cloth, Tancred responded by saying that he would take the emperor’s tent. Not only was this impertinent, it was absurd. Th


  e emperor had a tent with a tur-

  reted atrium that looked like a city. It required 20 heavily burdened camels to carry, held a multitude and soared above all other tents like a cypress above roses. It was unique in the world. At the time of his request, Tancred did not have enough followers to fi ll such a tent, nor could he realistically hope to use it on campaign, there would not be enough time each day to raise it. But the symbolism of the statement was immense. Tancred was eff ectively declaring an ambition to be as great a lord as the emperor. His point was not lost on Alexius, who rather astutely replied that the Norman should remember the tale of the ass who put on a lion skin and thought he was better than he was, only to be killed by farmers aft er they discovered its true nature upon hearing it bray.

  Th

  e ceremony terminated in acrimony with Alexius’ refusal to grant such a gift .

  Th

  e youthful knight had eff ectively shaken off the harness that the powerful emperor had tried to place upon him.2

  As the crusading army marched through Anatolia towards the old Byzantine fortress at Dorylaeum with a potential dangerous division between the vanguard and the main body, Qilij Arslān awaited them. Th

  e Turkish sultan had

  thoroughly reappraised his policy in the light of the defeat outside Nicea. Th ere

  was no longer any question of underestimating his new enemies. In fact, so serious was his response to this invasion that Qilij Arslān was prepared to make concessions to his current enemy, the Danishmend ruler, Malik Ghazi. Th e two

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  T H E S I E G E O F J E R U S A L E M

  Muslim leaders agreed to join forces against the common enemy and mobilized all their vassals. Th

  eir army consisted entirely of mounted warriors and was

  some 10,000 strong. Enough to destroy the Christian knights if they could be separated from the infantry, or to defeat a vanguard so foolishly distant from the main body of the army.

  At the merger of two valleys, where wide spaces would allow them maximum room to manoeuvre, the Muslim riders set up their camp. On the night of 30 July 1097, the fi rst knights of the Christian army came in to view and Qilij Arslān was careful to keep the main body of his army out of sight. It was vital not to forewarn the Christians and have them send messengers back to their main army. Not until the Christian vanguard left camp early on the following day, 1 July 1097, did the entire Muslim army appear, fl owing over the horizon into the shadows of the hills, ready to destroy the crusaders in front of them while they were still in the confused state of having recently dismantled their camp.