WALTER THE PENNILESS was a gentleman by birth, and a Burgundian by nation. In other days, he had won golden spurs and inherited a fortune. But, whatever had become of the spurs, Walter's property-had vanished, and he possessed nothing save his horse, his armor, and a degree of military skill, which, had he been at the head of fighting men, would have made him a formidable warrior. Having on his arrival before Constantinople encamped under the walls, Walter joined Peter the Hermit, crossed the Bos-phorus, and exerted his energy to keep the peasant-pilgrims in order.
On reaching Asia, the apostle of the crusade found himself in command of a hundred thousand men; for at Constantinople, besides being joined by Walter, he had been reinforced by large bodies of Germans and Italians. All these were as enthusiastic and refractory as the crusaders from France, and never had men to perform a more difficult duty than had devolved upon the Hermit and the Knight. Their united cfibrts failed to preserve anything like discipline; and while on the plains bordering the gulf of Nicomedia, their camp became the scene of discord and disorder.
At length the crusaders of the Germany and Italian States came to daggers' drawn with those from France about plunder. Not relishing the superiority assumed by the boastful Frenchmen, the Germans and Italians elected a leader, and, leaving the camp, advanced towards Nice. Arriving before a fort, they commenced an assault; and, entering, sword in hand, slaughtered the garrison. Though without means of subsistence or defence, they boldly took possession, and displayed their standard. Their audacity was not, of course, long left unpunished. A Turkish army soon appeared; and the Germans and Italians, unprepared for resistance, fell victims to their temerity.
When news of this disaster reached the camp of the crusaders, the French, forgetting their feud, vowed to be the avengers of the Germans and Italians, and gave way to extraordinary excitement. Peter had repaired in disgust to Constantinople; but Walter did all he could to prevent fatal consequences.
"The Germans and Italians are unworthy of the sacrifice you would make," said the penniless Knight to those who had constituted themselves ringleaders of the mob. "These men have fallen victims to their own imprudence; and it is our duty to avoid their example."
"That,'' cried the ringleaders in chorus," is the language of a man who lacks courage."
"I tell you," answered Walter, with a gesture of indignation, "that the enterprise you propose promises nothing but ruin. But have your own way. I cannot sanction your folly, but I will share your fate."
"God wills it," cried the ringleaders, as they rushed from the tent and roused the mob to arms.
The man who at this period figured as Sultan of Nice was not one whom the crusaders, if they had been discreet would have rashly defied. Reared in the midst of civil strife, and accustomed in his youth to adversity, he was dauntless in defeat and calm in victory. His foes named him with respect; and his friends, with pride, surnamed him "The Lion." On this occasion, he was under no serious apprehension; for he was aware of the imprudence of the pilgrims, and quite prepared to avail himself of its result.
Little dreaming of the reception with which they were to meet, the crusaders placed themselves in marching order; and Walter the Penniless, groaning in spirit, and leaving the women and children, and old men in the camp, led the van towards Nice. For a time he pursued his way without interruption. Suddenly, however, horns and drums heralded an attack; Saracens, with white turbans, green caftans, and long spears came in sight; and, on reaching a plain at the base of a mountain, the peasant-pilgrims found themselves face to face with countless foes. Walter halted, formed his men, and did all that a brave and sagacious leader could do under such circumstances; but his skill was exerted in vain. Surrounded on all sides by superior numbers, and shrinking from the peril they had defied, the crusaders lost heart and energy. At first, indeed, the conflict was fierce, and the carnage fearful. But ere long every hope expired \ and, with
Christian blood flowing around him like water, Walter fell in the midst of his foes, transfixed with arrows and covered with wounds.
Nor did the camp where the women and children had been left long escape. While the priests were performing mass, the victorious Turks suddenly appeared; and the unfortunate women and children were either put to death or carried into captivity. No one, however, escaped to tell the tale of horror.
It was only by accident that Christendom learned the catastrophe that had befallen the wreck of the first army of the cross. A soldier escaping to Constantinople carried to Peter the Hermit tidings of the fate of his comrades; and on the plain where the Sultan of Nice fought with Walter the Penniless, a quantity of human bones heaped confusedly together, remained a melancholy monument of the carnage of the peasant-pilgrims.
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From John G. Edgar
The Crusades and the Crusaders, 1860
