A FEW days after Boemund had taken possession of Antioch, three hundred Saracens, mounted on Arab steeds, spurred towards the city and came close to the walls. The crusaders, who were still celebrating their success with festivities, felt some anxiety at this circumstance; and, ere long, they learned with alarm, that the Sultans of Mossoul and Nice, with nearly half a million of men, a hundred thousand horses, and fifteen thousand camels, had encamped on the Orontes.
The pilgrims had reason to regard the vicinity of such foes with dread. Much treasure had been found in Antioch, but no store of provisions; and the prospect of a siege was perplexing. Moreover, the Sultan, by seizing the pass of St. Simeon, cut off all hope of supplies from Europe; and the crusaders, starving in the midst of wealth, could not purchase the commonest necessaries for their weight in gold.
It now became necessary to kill horses, and knights witnessed, with silent agony, the slaughter of war steeds that had carried them gallantly on the day of Dogorgan. But this source was soon exhausted; and the crusaders found themselves in a wretched predicament. Men of all ranks fared alike; and the proudest of European princes were reduced to a plight that would have been ludicrous, had not the circumstances been too serious for mirth. Deaths and desertions took place by hundreds; and the despair grew so deep, that many uttered sentiments savoring of blasphemy.
Amid famine and despair, Boemund's characteristic courage sustained him. At first he addressed the crusaders in heroic language, and, finding that ineffectual, he pointed out the absurdity of lying down to die like dogs. "It is better," he said, "to lose your lives wholesale on the point of the sword, than to retail them out by famine." But eloquence and argument alike failed to create zeal and energy; and it became apparent that nothing less than a miracle could restore hope and courage.
One day, when affairs had reached a crisis, the chiefs of the crusade assembled to deliberate; and a priest of Marseilles presented himself. "St. Andrew," he said, "has appeared in a dream, and informed me, that by digging in the church of St. Peter, we will find the spear which pierced the side of our Redeemer, and that this weapon, carried at the head of our army, will insure us victory over our enemies." Believing, or affecting to believe, the story, the pilgrim princes repaired to the church, and, after much digging, had the gratification of finding the object of their search.
No miracle could have been more beneficial in its results. The chiefs, on beholding the spear, felt their courage revive, and crusaders of all ranks, who had anxiously awaited the issue of the search, vociferously demanded to be led against the foe. The princes were m no humor to oppose a wish so loudly expressed.
Before sallying forth, however, they determined to send to the Sultan of Mossoul, and selected Peter the Hermit as most capable of figuring as ambassador. Peter undertook the duty, and set out on his mission. One sight of the mystical spear had kindled his zeal to such a pitch, that no danger would have daunted him.
In the midst of the Saracen camp, the Sultan of Mossoul occupied a magnificent pavilion. It was formed so as to resemble a fortified city, divided into streets flanked with towers, furnished with every article that could contribute to oriental luxury, and so constructed as to accommodate two thousand people. In an apartment of this structure, ornamented with gems and gold, the Sultan, surrounded by Saracen chiefs, was engaged with a game of chess, when Peter the Hermit, arrayed in his woollen mantle, was introduced.
"What is your errand?" asked the old Moslem warrior, turning from his game, stroking his beard, and regarding the Hermit with contempt.
"I come in the name of the princes assembled in Antioch," said Peter, returning the Sultan's glance with stern pride; "and I conjure you in the name of God, to leave this principality. Go in peace, and I promise that you will not be molested. But if you refuse to go in peace, let a battle convince you of the justice of our cause."
"Return to those who sent you," said the Sultan, in a paroxysm of rage, "and tell them that it is for the conquered to receive conditions, not to dictate them. Bid thy captains hasten, and, tliis very day, implore my clemency. To-morrow they will find that their God, who could not save himself, will not save them from the fate prepared for them."
"Listen!" said Peter, utterly undismayed by the applause bestowed on the Sultan's speech by the Saracen chiefs around.
"Drive this vagabond away," exclaimed the Sultan, laying his hand on his sword; "these miserable mendicants unite blindness with insolence."
By this time the crusaders were more eager than ever for battle; and when Peter carried the Sultan's answer to Antioch, the chiefs proclaimed that, next day, they would march against the foe. Some provisions having been accidentally obtained, every man had the benefit of a meal; and all having heard mass in the evening, lay down to await the break of day. Raymond of Thoulouse, who was suffering from a wound, agreed to remain and keep watch on the citadel. Every other chief prepared to take part in the encounter.
When the morning of the 1st of July, the anniversary of the battle of Dogorgan, dawned, a slight shower came opportunely to refresh the atmosphere; and the gates of Antioch having been thrown open, the crusaders issued forth in order of battle. The Count of Vermandois bore the church's banner; the Bishop of Puy commanded the centre of the army, and fulfilled at once the functions of a skilful war-chief and apostolic legate; Godfrey of Bouillon led the right wing, mounted on the war-steed of Raymond of Thoulouse, and attended by his brother Eustace and his kinsman Baldwin du Bourg; while the left was under the auspices of Curthose and the Count of Flanders. In the rear was a body of reserve, among whom were the Anglo-Norman warriors, led by the Earl of Albemarle; and there Boemund assumed his post, with an eye on every part of the battle. Others were about to fight for life and victory; but Boemund was going to fight not only for life and victory, but for the principality of Antioch, and the great scheme which he hoped possession ©f Antioch would enable him to realise.
Marching westward to a semicircular plain, formed by the mountains bordering the Orontes, and covered with dry grass and bushes, the crusaders prepared for a decisive action. Never, perhaps, did an army reduced to such misery feel so confident of victory. Most of the soldiers were in rags; many were suffering from famine; some were so weak, that they walked with difficulty; and others, in the absence of horses, rode on donkeys and camels. But enthusiasm made up for every defect; and they marched with the conviction that heaven had decreed a victory. Neither clarion nor trumpet announced their approach to the Saracens; but priests, walking in the van, bore aloft the spear found in St. Peter's church, and sang, in procession, the martial psalm, "Let God arise: let His enemies be scattered."
The Sultan of Mossoul sat in his magnificent tent, when his soldiers who had been posted nearest Atitioch fell back upon the camp, and announced the enemy's approach. At first the Sultan could hardly believe the report; and on being assured of its correctness, he said, "Doubtless they come to implore clemency." But ere long he became convinced of his error, and, arousing himself from his Arabian repose, put on his armor, issued from his tent, ordered his trumpets to sound, and marshalled his troops for the conflict.
Both armies having formed in order for battle, Crusader and Saracen were soon face to face, and an awful pause of a few minutes gave the warriors of Christendom a sight of the overwhelming numbers they had to encounter. But nothing could damp their enthusiasm. They restrained their zeal, however, till the Saracens, after discharging a flight of arrows, began the battle by a fierce onset; and then, giving way to an irresistible impulse, knight, squire, and groom charged impetuously forward, and, with a cry of "God wills it! "which resounded along the banks of the Orontes, swept before them both wings of the Sultan's army.
When the day opened so inauspiciously for the Saracens, the Sultan of Mossoul, who watched the conflict from a hill, must have been dismayed. But the aspect of the field suddenly changed. The Sultan of Nice, at the head of his cavalry, having made a circuit of the mountains, and returned by the river, attacked the crusaders in the rear, and menaced the reserve with destruction. In vain did Boemund exert his energy and his eloquence; in vain did Frank and Norman, Godfrey and Tancred, come to his aid. The rush of Arab cavalry, armed with clubs, bore down all opposition; and the Sultan of Nice fought like a lion, to avenge his defeats and retrieve his disasters. No efforts of valor availed to turn the tide of fight; and the standard of the church wrenched from the Count of Vermandois, was held aloft as a trophy. But Aubrey Do Vere, cutting his way to the sacred banner, brought it off dyed with infidel blood.
"While the Christians struggled against fearful odds, and valorous exploits were performed on both sides, the Saracens set fire to the bushes and dry grass. Enveloped in clouds of smoke and flame, the crusaders fell into confusion, and expressed their consternation in accents of despair.
"Where," they asked," is now the heavenly succor that was promised us?"
"Behold these horsemen in white," cried the Bishop of Puy, pointing to a mountain; "heaven declares for you. The blessed martyrs -- George, Demetrius, and Theodore -- come to aid you, and to assure you of victory."
"God wills it!" cried the crusuders, perhaps without pausing to inquire critically into the truth of the prelate's statement.
A rumor that celestial warriors were at hand spread from rank to rank; and the crusaders inspired with a notion that the saints were doing battle on their behalf, renewed the conflict with fiery enthusiasm. Every crusader fought as if suddenly gifted with preternatural power; and the Saracens disordered by the shock, gave way in dread. The Sultan of Nice and other leaders rallied their broken forces on an acclivity, and, sounding clarions and trumpets, endeavored to renew the contest; but the attempt was abortive. After a faint resistance, the Saracens gave way in terror, and, pursued over plain and mountain, fell by thousands before the weapons of their foes.
The crusaders mounted the horses of the slain, and it was not till nightfall that they drew their reins and wiped their swords. Even then some continued the chase through the gardens and villages on the Orontes. Aubrey de Vere urged on the pursuit so keenly, that hours after sunset he and his men found themselves miles from Antioch, and in a locality with which they were unacquainted. The predicament caused some dismay; but suddenly a star of excessive brightness seemed to light on De Vere's shield, and the phenomenon imparted comfort and hope to his followers. An idea that they were under heaven's especial protection instantly occurred to them; and they cried with one voice -- "God wills our safety!" De Vere and his men found their way to the camp; and Aubrey, in memory of this adventure, assumed a star with streams as his badge. The star was afterwards carried by the De Veres when Earls of Oxford; and on Barnet field it caused the memorable blunder that ruined the army, which, under Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, was struggling against the establishment of despotism in England.
Meanwhile, the citadel of Antioch surrendered to Raymond of Thoulouse; and the result of "The Great Battle" caused joy and rejoicing throughout the city. Wants, wounds, and woes were all forgotten. The victory was so complete, as to decide for a time the war between Christian and Moslem; and pilgrims, armed and unarmed, indulged in a hope, unfelt for months, of soon kneeling at the Holy Sepulchre. No serious efforts to oppose their progress were likely to be made. The Saracens, in fact had little faith in their cause; and those who had occupied the citadel, on surrendering, expressed a very general sentiment, when they exclaimed -- "We now know'that the God of the Christians must be the true God."
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From John G. Edgar
The Crusades and the Crusaders, 1860
