Then, as was customary, Doge Enrico summoned the popular assembly of ten thousand citizens. He spoke to them inside Saint Mark’s, explaining how this agreement would honor and benefit Venice. Next he invited the envoys to address the citizens. Lord Geoffrey spoke, saying the powerful barons of France had sent him and his colleagues to Venice because no other city on earth so thoroughly governed the sea. He implored Venetians to think upon Jerusalem, to recall how it was desecrated, violated. He fell on his knees, weeping miserably, joined by his comrades, and all vowed they would not get up unless their supplication was granted. Enrico Dandolo wept, as did others. Many stretched up their hands. And toward heaven went such a roar as shook the church.
We consent! We consent!
Although this agreement did not specify where the fleet should drop anchor it was assumed to be Alexandria at the mouth of the Nile, or perhaps Damietta, whence the Holy Land might be invaded. For good reason was Alexandria called the marketplace of two worlds and if Christians gained control of that port they might thrust a stake through the vitals of Islam. No longer would Babylon communicate by sea with Turks. Next, Jerusalem would fall.
Yet there was discord from the start. Many preferred to embark at Marseille. And when the barons gathered at Venice they had not money enough to pay for the ships. Common pilgrims and sergeants contributed. Still there was not enough. Then, said the Venetians, you must capture the port of Zara, which was wrongly taken from us by the king of Hungary. So after much consultation the barons agreed, albeit some did not think this right.
Doge Enrico Dandolo again spoke to a vast assembly in the church of Saint Mark. He praised the Franks, saying they were to embark upon the greatest conquest in the history of the world and if in their hearts they wished him to take the cross to guide and govern them, that would he do. With a single voice they beseeched Enrico Dandolo to lead, to guide and direct. Down he came from his reading desk and he went before the altar where he knelt, weeping through sightless eyes. They sewed a cross to the doge’s cotton hat because he wished all men to see it.
His Holiness Innocent, who thought they would assault Damietta or Alexandria, grew furious when he learned their destination and excommunicated them. It is related that he acted like a wild beast struck with an arrow that claws and bites the wound. Numerous pilgrims, too, felt troubled and quarreled among themselves. Robert de Clari speaks of this proposal to attack Zara as cruel and iniquitous because the inhabitants were Christian, also because the king of Hungary himself had taken the cross and made his land subservient to the pontiff. Thus, some who objected to pillaging and slaughtering fellow Christians decided to go home.
In October of that year 1202 the fleet departed. Forty Venetian naves for the transport of Jerusalemfarers. One hundred usserii for conveyance of animals. Sixty-two galleys. This according to the author of Devastatio, whose name is lost, perhaps a German or Italian in the service of Marquis Boniface. Nicetas Choniates, who would observe this fleet from a turret of Constantinople, counted more.
Each lord equipped his galley to please himself. All were light and swift and sleek, propelled by sixty benches of oarsmen, directed by two oars at the stern. Each carried forty to fifty armed sergeants, apart from oarsmen who themselves went armed. From the yard depended an iron spike to drop on enemy vessels and bilge them, while a pointed ram extended from the bow. Thus, each would cause the bravest man’s teeth to clatter. It is said that once upon a time galleys were constructed with three, four, five banks of oars one above another, stroking the sea at greater or lesser distance. When Augustus fought Antony during the battle of Actium here came galleys with six banks of oars, called liburnae since they were built at Liburnia in Dalmatia. But such mightiness has passed away.
Doge Enrico’s galley from beak to stern was painted vermilion and a vermilion canopy to protect him from rain or sunlight. Cymbals clashed, drums rattled, four trumpeters stood before him playing silver instruments, and here was the banner of Saint Mark fluttering. Priests and clerics stood on the high afterdecks chanting Veni Creator Spiritus. So there was great rejoicing, albeit many wept, unable to staunch their tears. In the eyes of Robert de Clari there could be no finer spectacle since the beginning of the world. Yet that famous nave assigned to Stephen de Perche, which was called Violet, listed and sank, as if our Lord would strike these pilgrims in their pride. Thus we see how the King of Kings holds all things unto Himself, how His nets are stretched across mountaintops and beneath the waves.
Now the brass and silver trumpets brayed, producing majestic noise. Now urged by clashing cymbals and pounding drums these two hundred vessels slid through Venetian lagoons. At sea they hoisted bright ensigns and opened sail until the water trembling with color might have been afire.
Anon they came to the city of Pola where they made port to refresh themselves, to secure provisions. The citizens of Pola were astonished by such a noble fleet.
Next to Zara and came in view on the eve of the feast of Saint Martin. At once these people closed the city gates and raised a chain across the harbor mouth. And because they knew Venetians hated them, they had obtained a letter from His Holiness Innocent stating that whoever made war against them would be anathema.
How shall we take Zara, asked the pilgrims, since it is guarded by formidable ramparts. How shall we subdue and pillage this ancient city, which is very rich, unless with divine help? After consulting together they rowed straightway toward the chain and broke it. Other vessels came gliding into the harbor, knights and sergeants waded ashore, blindfolded chargers walked down the ramps. Siege engines were quickly mounted, pavilions organized.
In a little while here came a deputation of citizens to the scarlet tent of Enrico Dandolo, offering to surrender Zara if the people would be spared. The doge answered that he would speak with his allies. But the Franks were bitterly divided. Many set their faces against this conquest of a Christian city, seeing how they must explain to God. Abbot Guy of Vaux-de-Cernay, Lord Enguerrand de Boves, and Count Simon de Montfort all objected, which angered the doge. Zara lay within his palm. These Franks had vowed to help. Yet they refused. He demanded that the barons keep their word, whether all should be excommunicate or not.
Then the abbot of Vaux got up to speak. My lords, said he, on behalf of the pontiff at Rome I forbid you to assault the city of Zara, for within are Christians and you are pilgrims.
You have covenanted to help me conquer Zara, the doge responded. Therefore I summon you.
The high lords all began to speak at once. Many condemned Abbot Guy for wishing to dissuade the host, arguing that they would feel shamed if they did not take Zara, and told the doge they would help him. Lord Enguerrand and Count Simon, however, set their tents apart to disengage themselves from a sinful act.
Frankish mangonels, petraries, and other engines undertook a bombardment. Venetian ships attacked from Val di Maestro to the Porta Terraferma. Abbot Martin relates how they went about this sadly yet vigorously in order to complete the hateful business. Before long the terrified inhabitants understood that the body of Saint Chrysogonus, which lay within the walls, could not protect them and they tried once more to surrender. This time the proposal was accepted. The gates of Zara opened. Jerusalemfarers rushed through the streets stealing what they wanted, sacked churches, spoiled what they could not use, murdered as it pleased them. Citizens who angered Doge Enrico were decapitated. Many fled to the hills, sought refuge in Arbe or Belgrade. Some few reached a monastery, Saint Damien of the Mountain. According to Archdeacon Thomas of Spalato, in Zara not enough remained alive to bury the dead.
These pilgrims full of virtue had left home to prosecute a war against unbelievers. Now, sick with guilt, helped Venetian merchants to strip and gut a Christian city. And so, despising themselves, turned about to fight Venetians and claimed the merchants responsible. What is this but a record of present days? What is this but a palimpsest? Men in their blindness do not know where to find the wealth they seek.
These shame
less pilgrims, troubled by the anathema laid upon any who would attack Zara, sought absolution. Robert de Boves and the bishop of Soissons were delegated to visit the pontiff at Rome. Also, Doge Enrico addressed a letter to His Holiness explaining how cold weather was imminent and they must winter at Zara whose people had long been intractable, hence it was no impiety to wreak vengeance.
That winter many pilgrims deserted, mistrusting not only Venetians but their own Frankish lords who seemed more adept at lining their pockets than consummating the journey. We have not come to battle other Christians, said they, but to fight on behalf of Christ. Reluctantly, therefore, the barons authorized some to go and fulfill their vows however they might. But then, with so many preparing to depart, the barons announced that no more might leave. Still the pilgrim host dwindled. Some marched away to vanish in Sclavonia, starved, murdered. Those with money enough bought passage on merchant ships, yet one such vessel carrying five hundred pilgrims overturned so they drowned. God who orders things from their beginning as He sees fit brings all to conclusion. It is not for us to question His intent.
In spring when snows began to melt the barons contemplated their army and knew they could not stay month after month at Zara. My lords, said Enrico Dandolo, who boiled with fury at the Greeks, Greece is a rich country overflowing with useful and valuable products. If we go there we can obtain what we need to see us toward the Holy Land.
Marquis Boniface de Montferrat arose to speak. My lords, I have been to the court of Emperor Philip of Swabia and there I met a youth who claims for himself the throne of Constantinople. He is Alexius, the son of Emperor Isaac Angelus who was treacherously deposed by his own brother. We might justifiably enter the territory of Constantinople if we take this young prince with us, because he is the legitimate heir.
Abbot Guy arose to speak for those who objected. They had not left their homes, said he, nor journeyed this far to attack Christians. Nor would they consent, but would of themselves proceed to Syria.
The abbot of Loos, who was famous and very holy, declared that for the sake of God and compassion they should keep the living host intact and proceed to Constantinople, by which the land oversea might be reclaimed.
This sounded good to most. Accordingly, messengers were despatched and the Greek youth was overjoyed to hear what they said. He replied that he must consult his brother-in-law, Emperor Philip. The emperor approved, saying that Alexius would get nothing of his heritage but for the help of these Franks. Alexius now told the envoys he would pay two hundred thousand silver marks if he were seated on the throne of Constantinople. He would join the Christian host at Zara.
He had escaped from Constantinople not long after his father was imprisoned. How he did so is partly known. When his uncle marched off to crush a rebellion in Damokraneia he accompanied the expedition but slipped away and fled to Athyra. There lay a Pisan merchant vessel pretending to load ballast. And there lay a skiff awaiting this young prince. Then his uncle ordered every ship in the port of Athyra to be searched. Alexius could not be found. It may be that he quickly snipped off his long hair, clothed himself like a mariner, and mingled with the crew. Or it may be as the Novgorod chronicle relates that he got inside a water cask with a false bottom. Greek soldiers drew out the plug because they suspected he might be hiding in one, but water spurted from the bunghole and they were deceived. Whatever the truth, Alexius got to Ancona, thence to the Swabian court of his brother-in-law.
Many Frankish barons felt uncomfortable when they thought of how they had been persuaded to support this claimant to a Greek throne. In their hearts and minds they envisioned the Holy City of Jerusalem. Instead, the ramparts of Constantinople loomed. Therefore when the fleet paused at Corfu these dissidents camped by themselves amid the odor of mutiny. Marquis Boniface and the doge took Alexius with them to assuage these malcontents. All three knelt on the grass, pleaded and wept, claiming they would not get up off their knees until unity was restored. Also, Frankish bishops testified that invading Greece would not contravene the wishes of God. On the contrary, it would be no sin but a righteous deed since the young prince thereby would gain his natural inheritance. Yet quite a few of the host were unconvinced. To proceed toward Greece and meddle in distant affairs seemed at once foolish and perilous. Why should we go to Constantinople? they asked. Why purchase that city with our blood?
Even so the fleet pressed on. At Cape Malea they encountered two vessels filled with pilgrims returning from the Holy Land. These pilgrims spoke of plague at Acre, which made them debate the wisdom of their course.
Anon they entered that sound which is called the Arm of Saint George. They glided north propelled by oar and billowing sail, galleys in the lead, bows swaggered with carved and gilded faces, stern quarters enhanced by painted scrolls, rubbing strakes resplendent with gold. From bulwarks hung the shields of knights on board, each testifying to the valor of his lineage. Chronicles relate that now and again some galley master struck the gong, raising or lowering his stroke to keep pace with others. Behind them wallowed merchant ships, huissiers, palanders. And in their wake dipped white lateen sails for here came pirates, traders, Jews.
Near the abbey of Saint Stephen they cast anchor, whence they could marvel at shimmering walls and formidable towers of the most fabulous city on earth. Those who had not seen Constantinople looked with amazement, and none so bold or sated by experience that he did not feel his heart contract. In centuries past numerous fleets and armies had tried to vanquish Constantinople. All had withdrawn, bloodily defeated. Twice the Bulgars laid siege, but the Greek emperor Basil slew so many he was named Bulgaroktonos, and sent home fifteen thousand enemies blinded to serve as warning.
Early next day the living host overtook fishing boats, which they showered with arrows and bolts from crossbows. Where, they wondered, would Greek warships emerge to challenge them? But not one appeared. This tyrant had usurped a throne carved from wormy wood, an empire in decay. Innumerable functionaries bore titles and pocketed stipends while doing nothing. Once the Greeks could launch five hundred armed galleys and twice that many transports. Now there were as many admirals as fish in a lake, captains beyond counting. Indeed, Lord Admiral Stryphnos sold the very ships of his command like some alchemist transmuting iron anchors to gold. Also, the keeper of imperial forests did not authorize wood for building new ships because of his great affection for trees. Nor did the emperor investigate. According to Nicetas Choniates this emperor knew as little about the empire as if he inhabited Ultima Thule. He spent the days traveling through his estates on the Sea of Marmora, designing flowerbeds, gathering blossoms, embraced by sycophants of a thousand hue, knaves, vipers, whelps, jackdaws. Some painful disease hobbled him and little would he undertake without consulting astrologers. The empress Euphrosyne deceived him with such contempt that citizens laughed. It is said he could not forget how he had mutilated his brother and lived in terror of retribution even while asleep.
Athwart the Golden Horn, from Constantinople to Galata, the protective chain was lifted and stretched taut, iron links so huge they measured in cubits. Secure beyond this chain fat merchant vessels lay at anchor, stuffed with goods. Shops and houses of traders, Jews, Venetians, Genoese, could be seen on the slopes of Galata. Many in that quarter felt less allegiance to Byzantium than to Europe. Overall, from Galata across the Golden Horn where palaces and church domes gleamed through smoky haze, the immensity of Constantinople humbled these Franks, so radiant, so majestic, so invulnerable did it seem. As for the Greeks, they appeared on rooftops to stare with dumb astonishment at this fleet. And that night a thousand lamps illuminated the vast dome of Sancta Sophia while torches were seen moving along the battlements.
Next day brought an emissary, Nicholas Roux, a Lombard chosen because he spoke the language, who asked why this fleet arrived to menace Constantinople. The citizens and Emperor Alexius himself are Christian, said he. And you, are you not en route to the Holy Land? Why not go on your way? The emperor will give you what suppli
es you need. He is reluctant to harm you, although he is capable of this if you do not proceed to Jerusalem.
Lord Conan de Béthune responded. We have with us the nephew of a traitor who has usurped the throne. It is our intent to restore him to his legacy. We intend to see this youth crowned emperor.
On the following day ten galleys rowed along the walls under a flag of truce. Aboard was the young prince, Doge Enrico Dandolo, and many famous knights. A herald cried to the people looking down that this was their natural emperor whom they should acknowledge, else Constantinople would be pounded to ruin. But they shouted back defiantly that they did not know him.
Therefore the pilgrims disembarked at Galata. This happened on the fifth day of July in our year of grace 1203. Greeks sallying from the tower to repulse the Frankish host quickly lost heart and tried to escape. Some dashed into the water and drew themselves hand over hand along the chain as if they might travel like apes to Constantinople. Others ran up and down the shore, running faster than arrows launched at them. So the pilgrims gained admittance to the tower that housed a great windlass controlling the chain. By certain accounts they unshackled the chain, which sank to the harbor bed. Others speak of how the powerful ship Aquila drove its iron prow against the chain and snapped it. Galleys that had waited outside, backing and filling with beaks raised to attack, all at once came gliding forward, propelled by slaves bent to the loom of oars. And so next morning at sunrise here was the Golden Horn thick as a forest with Venetian ships.
Day after day the knighthood of Christ prepared. Cattle hides were lashed across forward decks and over the prows to fend off burning oil. Petraries, mangonels, and other machines assembled. Greeks now and again rushed out to molest the Frankish encampment. Once with Burgundians on guard here came the Greeks. They were repelled, forced backward to the gate, but on this occasion Guillaume de Champlitte, a gallant knight, got his arm smashed by a stone from the ramparts. Other sorties followed. Many Jerusalemfarers went to sleep in Christ.
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