Prince of Legend

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The first task was to advance to near the leading edge then to hold the platform, which was resting on the very top of the crenellated battlements, not easy as the defenders quickly employed long pikes kept on the parapet to prevent that very manoeuvre, the points of these countered by both broadswords and swinging axes lopping off spikes aimed at taking away their legs. At the same time shields had to be held high to protect against arrows, loosed over Fatimid heads, potentially dangerous given they were being fired at short range.

That meant a tight line in which advance, once the primary moves had been completed, was secondary; let the enemy die as they sought to clamber up to make contact at a level much higher than their fighting parapet, leaving them vulnerable at a time when their weapons could not be properly employed. That they did so, despite the risks, was either testimony to their zeal or the same quality of those to their rear, so eager to get into battle that they pushed their own men onto the Crusader weapons.

Those initially pierced by a lance, or in a second wave taken by sword and axe, presented a barrier to the mass of their fellows, who solved this problem by seeking to shift them out of their path, regardless of the fact that to do so was to heave them off the platform edge into thin air, the screams of those still living adding to the cacophony of noise, that silenced as they hit the pile of rubble below.

Once fully supported from below, Godfrey, Robert, Tancred and their confreres, the most puissant knights from each of their contingents, could seek to advance, which was carried out in the standard tactic of one pace at a time and that only possible when the whole line could move as one; a dog-leg here was more dangerous now than the same predicament on an open field, until they got to the very edge and from there sought to clear enough space to get onto the walls themselves.

To aid the whole endeavour, Gaston of Bearn had fashioned another innovation, the ability to cast off the wattle screens on the next floor down, deliberately made wider than the top storey, and from there, using extension planks and ladders, to get men onto the flanks in order to stretch a defence that was short on numbers, it being forced to do battle on two fronts so far apart that mutual support was not possible.

That was about to become more telling in a wider sense too: with the siege tower fully employed and sucking in the enemy defenders, the mass of the attackers, hitherto idle, could assault the walls using stout ladders with which to clamber up to the level of the ramparts, the situation and stretched defence giving them a good chance of getting over the battlements and onto the wooden parapet.

Once there in sufficient numbers, complete success became a real possibility, not that it was ever guaranteed, for it was an axiom of such an action that the defence would always outnumber the attackers, and if the Muslims held their nerve and fought with brio, to drive the Latins back off again was achievable. Perception was all: if men thought they were losing, whichever side they were on, they would slacken off their efforts, half concerned with escape rather than wholly committed to victory.

Tancred’s height played a part as it always did, his reach being that much greater than those who lined up beside him, which meant he had to show restraint so as not to advance too quickly. But right now it was the billowing smoke blowing across the platform, stinging his eyes and affecting his vision, that seemed the greater problem. Right before him a gap appeared, he having chopped the lower arm of his immediate opponent, who was so immobilised by the loss that he temporarily blocked the way to those at his rear. That allowed for the briefest glance to right and then left, which engendered an immediate shout.

‘My Lord Godfrey, look to our left.’

Having made that call Tancred was forced to once more fully engage with the enemy, and with Godfrey likewise fighting hard there was a gap before circumstances allowed him to comply with the cry from the younger man. Yet when he did, what he saw had a similar effect on him: the top of the eastern tower that framed the St Stephen’s Gate was emitting a great mass of smoke, which, caught by the wind was blowing across to envelop the combatants.

‘Close up!’ Godfrey shouted, immediately pulling back, a command obeyed by both Tancred and the knight on de Bouillon’s left, Ludolf of Tournai.

Able to retire to a point from which he could assess the situation, the gap the Duke left was quickly filled by a supporting knight from the reserve. This was Ludolf’s brother Engelbert, who moved up and called to be allowed to act as a replacement, entering the line with his vigour fresh and his passion for the fight at full stretch.

Godfrey, to get a better view, dropped down one level and, cutting through what remained of the wattle screen, peered out of the side of the siege engine. What he saw lifted his already bubbling spirits: if the gate tower was on fire that meant the interior wooden frame that formed the support for the stonework was ablaze. Such a conflagration, being embedded, would be impossible to extinguish.

If weakened enough, and it would be as the fire progressed, it was only a matter of time before the whole edifice collapsed, which would take with it the supporting pillars of the gate itself, causing that to sag open, thus fully opening the way into the city for the whole mass of Godfrey’s fighters. An added danger lay on the wooden parapet on which the defenders fought: that too could catch fire, and being constructed the way it was, with open slats, it would burn quickly and ferociously.

The panicked cries from above, albeit they were in Arabic, indicated to the Duke of Lower Lorraine that he was not alone in seeing the danger and drawing the requisite conclusion. To seek to hold a section of the walls when the means to outflank you were imminent, and the ground beneath your feet could disappear, was madness. A call from one of his knights, telling him that the Fatimids were weakening, posed the possibility for Godfrey that he would not be in action at the most vital moment.

Slashing at the wattle and knocking one of his own men out of the way, he was on a ladder and climbing at a furious scrabble, able to catch sight of his men, now standing on the very top of the ramparts. By the time he joined them they were on the parapet, now doing combat with an enemy that seemed more intent on disengagement than continued resistance.

All along the battlements the men led by Godfrey, Robert of Flanders and Tancred were pushing over the crest of the walls and occupying a wooden fighting platform on which only those trapped by the inability to get clear were still contesting the ground. Massively outnumbered, they were to die for that, while it soon became apparent that the remainder of their comrades had fled.

Before the Zion Gate, Raymond of Toulouse was seeking by personal example to inspire an attack rapidly running out of energy. His voice was hoarse from shouting that his men should continue to advance in the face of a defence that had not lost one iota of its power since the previous day. If anything it seemed more potent. There was no weakening of Raymond’s sword arm for it had yet to be employed; no one, him included, could get close enough to the walls.

With his siege tower unusable — his men refused to enter it and climb — there were only ladders with which to seek to overcome the Egyptians, that and the rocks fired by his lighter mangonels and they were as nothing compared to what the Fatimids were raining down in response on his stuttering advance.

Much as he hated to contemplate retirement there seemed little choice, and in doing so he knew he would be faced with a complete rethink of the ways needed to take the city, which was complicated by the fact that time must be short. The Vizier al-Afdal must be aware that the city was besieged and that would force him to leave Cairo and come to its rescue. The Crusade, still without the walls of Jerusalem, faced possibly a worse dilemma than they had at Antioch.

Suddenly the air, which had been full of rocks and arrows, was clear of both. Looking up at the battlements there were no heads peering over, bows at the ready and eyes roving to pick a target. It took time to register, time before the advance broke from a stumbling walk into a run, men amazed, none more so than Raymond himself, that they could raise their ladders without interference, even more so when that applied to their ascent and the crossing of the ramparts themselves.

The parapet, when they occupied it, was empty, which induced an amazed pause as the likes of Raymond sought to glean some meaning from what had just occurred. It did not take too long to realise that the defence had collapsed because it was breached elsewhere, which meant Godfrey and his men were inside Jerusalem, and with a head start on the sack of the city. From the fervour of battle, it soon became the Provencal purpose to be equally dedicated to the pursuit of plunder.

Jerusalem paid a high price for its resistance, with later chroniclers, such as Aguilers, seeking to exalt the success, claiming that ten thousand Muslims gave up their lives to appease God. That this was an untruth was not allowed to interfere with the glory of the capture of the Holy City, yet there were those who later spoke the truth: if that number died, to be eventually burnt in great mounds outside the walls, the frames of the siege engines used as kindling, there were as many Christian victims as Muslims.

The sack was brutal as every Crusader sought personal enrichment, many succeeding given Jerusalem was a place full of the means to do so: rich in gold, even more so than in metal, as well as silver, fashioned into objects designed to venerate the memory of Jesus Christ, a massive number given as gifts by pilgrims that had preceded the Crusade in more peaceful times.

Following the frenzy of acquisition men would later gather to pray and hear Mass in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, a church from which they were quick to eject any who adhered to another branch of the Christian faith — Armenians, Copts, Nestorians and Maronites. They did not ask for forgiveness for the acts of barbarity which they had just carried out: houses invaded and left wrecked, women ravaged, babies dashed against pillars and young children slain, bodies of both sexes sliced open to seek any wealth that might have been consumed to hide it from view.

The Crusaders did not see the need: what they had done had been carried out for the greater glory of the god they worshipped and one who had shown them divine favour, not a single worshipper present doubting this to be an absolute truth. Three years had passed since they took their crusading vows and left their homes, hearths and wives to fulfil that pledge, three years in which they travelled a thousand leagues, conquered disease, hunger, battle, despair and the elements. How else could they have overcome such obstacles without that their God had strengthened their resolve as well as the arms with which they wielded their blessed weapons?

Conquest did not end dispute, for there still existed the vexed question of to whom control of Jerusalem should devolve. The churchmen demanded it be a divine, yet that faltered on the fact that there was no one of sufficient stature to fill the office of bishop, a man who could command the necessary respect.

In a break with previous intentions, and at the instance of both Godfrey de Bouillon and Raymond, one cleric called Arnulf was appointed to the See of Jerusalem. He being bound to take Mass in the Roman rite, that was a message to Byzantium and the Emperor Alexius Comnenus that whatever vows had been taken in Constantinople were now void.

Secular dissension was unabated: Raymond of Toulouse, always with an eye on how to exert pressure on his confreres, had quickly occupied the Tower of David, into which Iftikhar ad-Daulah had fled with his best troops, a detachment of Egyptian cavalry. In order to secure it peacefully, Raymond had given Iftikhar and his men safe passage to the west, which was seen as folly, given any attempt at recapture must come from that direction.

Not that Raymond was bothered: the Tower of David acted as the citadel of Jerusalem as much as that which Bohemund had held fast did for Antioch. Without it the Holy City was not secure and when called upon to give it up, Toulouse refused, still hoping that by his action he could claim title to the whole. In this he was thwarted by his own unpopularity set against that of the man who could claim to have engineered the capture.

Godfrey de Bouillon was the choice of the host for his personal piety. A degree of political wisdom had him listen to the priests who insisted that no man should allow himself to be called ‘King’ in the city of which God was the only sovereign. Accepting the title of Advocate of the Holy Sepulchre, he knew that what he had taken on was a fief in all but name, a wealthy one and one that would require to be defended: it was a prize of incalculable importance to three faiths.

In a huff Raymond decamped to an encampment in Jericho, leaving the Tower of David to be held by Bishop Peter of Narbonne; he promptly betrayed the man who had favoured him with the See of Albara and handed it over to Godfrey. Yet Jerusalem was not secure: scouting to the west, Tancred had caught wind of a huge army landing and gathering around the port of Ascalon. It was under the personal command of the Vizier of Cairo and further enquiry produced the alarming proportion that the Crusade, even combined, was outnumbered by a measure of four to one.

‘Here I can invoke the name of Bohemund,’ Tancred insisted, once more back in the Holy City and able to alert the new advocate to the looming threat. ‘If we stay inside the walls of Jerusalem it will be a repeat of what we faced with Kerbogha.’

‘Even if the gate of St Stephen is fully repaired?’ asked Normandy.

‘We overcame it, My Lord, and therefore we must accept that others might follow our example.’

‘Do they have our spirit,’ Godfrey mused, ‘… or our ability?’

‘What they have is numbers and I would say what my uncle always advocated, if there is to be a battle let us choose the ground on which it is to be fought.’

‘And I say let them batter themselves against the walls.’

Nonplussed that Normandy should advocate such a course, Tancred pressed on.

‘One of the factors that sustained us during our siege was the sure knowledge that the Fatimids were no more loved than their Turkish predecessors. We expected to hold this city with the good opinion of the inhabitants, but can that be said to be so after the actions of our newly consecrated bishop and his priests?’

Arnulf was present and offended, even more so when Tancred pointed out how, by barring other Christians, who made up the bulk of the population, from the holy sites, he had mightily alienated them. In order to counter his own folly he had ‘miraculously’ discovered a piece of the True Cross, which to Tancred, his own piety much dented, looked very suspiciously like a repeat of the Holy Lance. Clearly the Jerusalemites felt a similar suspicion, for they had failed to rally to Arnulf’s relic.

‘We can only adopt the course you advocate, Tancred, if we are joined by Raymond.’

Normandy responded to Godfrey in a manner that, if he shocked him, he did well to disguise. ‘I will not march on the news Tancred has brought to us.’

‘You do not see the threat?’ Godfrey asked.

‘I see an army disembarking but I do not see one marching towards us. Unless they do and their intention is clear, why should we countenance the threat as real?’

‘I cannot think you believe that,’ Flanders exclaimed.

Normally friendly to his brother-in-law, Normandy snapped back. ‘Being related to me by matrimony does not give you leave to question my judgement.’

Flanders was not to be put down; his response was just as forceful. ‘If I observe any judgement within you, perhaps I would question it, as it is I see nothing but foolishness.’

‘I could make you eat those words.’

‘You could try.’

‘My Lords, I beg of you,’ Godfrey cried. ‘Let us not bicker.’

‘No, let us not,’ Normandy replied, ‘and to ensure there is no more of such I will withdraw.’

The advocate was left looking at his fellow nobleman’s back and Tancred surmised he was thinking that now Godfrey was close to understanding the depth of the task that had so troubled Bishop Ademar of Puy, this as Flanders spoke.

‘I agree with Tancred. If we are to meet this vizier let us do so in open battle, where our tactics have always favoured us.’

‘You wish to march out and face the Egyptians,’ asked Godfrey softly, ‘without Toulouse or your kinsman of Normandy?’

‘I do. If God’s grace got us to where we now stand, I have faith that he will continue to bless us with his favour.’

‘I agree,’ Tancred said.

‘Then let it be so, and may God protect and preserve us.’

Led by the nobles and Bishop Arnulf, parading his piece of the True Cross, barefoot and in prayer, the half-host under Godfrey left Jerusalem to take on the might of Egypt. Such was the shame heaped upon both Robert of Normandy and Raymond of Toulouse by their own followers that both men were obliged, only days later, to lead their forces to join with them at Ramleh, the Provencals still using as a totem the Holy Lance. Jerusalem was stripped of fighting men, left to be held by prayer alone and once more, as on so many occasions, the Crusade was facing either triumph or death.

Luck or divine intervention gave them details of al-Afdal’s intentions, this tortured out of a group of captured Egyptian scouts. The Vizier had completed his landings, bringing from his domains a massive force made up of heavy Egyptian cavalry, Berbers, Bedouins and giant Ethiopians. His intention was to march on Jerusalem on the very next day. In the discussion of how to respond, Tancred once more invoked the name of Bohemund, advocating that boldness would outweigh Fatimid numbers.

‘We know where they are camped and we know they think themselves invincible,’ he insisted, ‘and therein lies our best weapon, their own arrogance.’

‘Trust a de Hauteville to know all about arrogance,’ Raymond of Toulouse cawed.

That got him a jaundiced look from Godfrey de Bouillon, now, even to Raymond’s own knights, the undisputed commander of the host. So telling was that glance that the Count of Toulouse had no more to contribute.

‘Let us attack him, instead of waiting for him to attack us.’

Flanders demurred. ‘Defensive battle suits us.’

‘Which al-Afdal well knows. He will anticipate that we will pick a good field on which to fight him and dispose his troops accordingly.’

‘And we should do what?’ Godfrey asked, his eyes ranging around the pavilion; no one but Tancred responded.

‘Attack him at first light.’

It took an age for Godfrey to make a decision, but when he did the words were prophetic. ‘May the Good Lord preserve and protect us.’

Marching out in darkness, the host found that in al-Afdal they had an adversary so full of confidence that he had not thought to set out piquets on the outskirts of Ascalon to warn of any hostile approach. Unhindered, the Crusaders fell upon his encampment while many of his men were barely aroused from their night’s slumber, their arms stacked still by their campfires and slow to be employed. In a situation where mercy, never in good supply, would have been folly, the slaughter was immense.

Raymond of Toulouse on the right flank, for all his faults a good general, having ridden right through the camp, in the process stealing the Vizier’s personal standard, drove the only troops that held their formation, the Egyptian cavalry, into the sea, where men and horses drowned. Godfrey attacking on the left drove his enemies towards the gates of Ascalon, too narrow to permit mass entry and soon closed so that those inside could save themselves. The remainder were butchered on the outside.

Tancred and Robert of Flanders, attacking in the centre, routed the men they faced, many of whom sought to hide in trees and bushes to escape their fate, which was useless: all they became was sport for lance and bow, while those who prostrated themselves and begged were slaughtered like beasts. When the Crusade departed the field they left only corpses on which the carrion could feed. In their train they carried immeasurable wealth, the treasures and possessions of one of the richest rulers in the world.

Under their banner and their holy relics, Godfrey de Bouillon led them in triumph back through the gates of Jerusalem, at his right hand Tancred de Hauteville under his own red flag with its blue and white chequer, now truly, to all who spoke of him, the martial equal of his blood relative Bohemund. To Godfrey’s other side rode Raymond of Toulouse, Robert of Normandy and his namesake of Flanders. In their wake came carts laden with such treasure it would not have disgraced a Roman triumph of old.

The Crusade called by Pope Urban at Clermont had fought its last battle and they had won: Jerusalem, the holiest city in the Christian world, was in the hands of men who could now claim, without being challenged, to be the most puissant warriors in the world.