Then, as day faded on 24 October, a force arrived at Tarsus. Some 300 southern Italian Normans, members of Bohemond's contingent, had been sent south from the main host to reinforce Tancred's group. Tired and hungry, they begged Baldwin to grant them shelter within the town, but for the moment he refused, fearing his position would be destabilised. This decision would have bloody consequences. In the dead of night, as Bohemond's men lay sleeping in the fields surrounding Tarsus, the bulk of the Turkish garrison managed to slip, unseen, out of the city. There they 'suddenly fell upon the Christian men who had surrendered their tired limbs to sleep ... beheading some, slaughtering others, piercing others through with arrows, leaving [few] alive'. It must have been a swift but vicious assault, because no alarm was raised, and, with their grisly work done, the Turks raced off into the darkness.
With the coming of dawn, the atrocity was discovered and Tarsus thrown into chaos. Baldwin's enraged followers went on the rampage, butchering all remnants of the Turkish garrison. A wild rumour swept through the town that Baldwin was in some way implicated in the affair, and, fearing for his life, he locked himself in a tower and waited for the storm of vengeance to subside. He eventually convinced his men of his innocence and regained control of Tarsus, but the accusation of murder stained his reputation. Over the next week the town was combed for booty, although Armenian property was probably left untouched, and a sizeable Frankish garrison was installed. With Tarsus safeguarded, Baldwin and his remaining men set off east.39
Tancred had, meanwhile, found a new ally. Soon after leaving Tarsus he arrived at Adana. Today this bustling city dominates the entire Cilician region, but in 1098 it was just a small fortress town, inferior to Tarsus in both size and status. Adana had just succeeded in overthrowing its Turkish garrison in a brutal coup, and so Tancred found himself being warmly greeted by its new Armenian ruler, Oshin. This may have been something of a disappointment. Having played no part in Adana's liberation, Tancred was in no position to lay claim to the town. Unless he was prepared to take up arms against his Christian brethren, he and his men would once again be denied the rights of conquest and plunder. Oshin, himself a canny and ambitious noble, sensed that there might be a problem and quickly offered a solution. After becoming Tancred's client and ally, he would lead the Franks to another rich and prosperous town - Mamistra - which, Oshin promised, was weakly defended. This astute deflection of interest forestalled any conflict, and the friendship was sealed when Tancred's small army was reinforced with 200 Armenians.40
In the last days of September Tancred duly marched on Mamistra, a thriving commercial centre on the banks of the Pyramus river. Oshin's predictions proved accurate, and its Turkish garrison, terrified by the crusaders' burgeoning martial reputation, put up only cursory resistance. Tancred was eagerly welcomed by the Armenian population and accepted as Mamistra's new ruler. He was, at last, able to distribute a wealth of 'food, clothing, gold and silver' among his men as reward for their loyalty and patience. A few days later, Baldwin of Boulogne arrived in the region and established a camp on the opposite bank of the Pyramus. With the memory of Tarsus still fresh in everyone's mind, tensions were understandably high. Among Tancred's men, Richard of Salerno - one of the most prominent southern Italian Norman crusaders - stirred things up, arguing that revenge must be taken. Baldwin seems to have imagined that he could repeat his success at Tarsus, but on this occasion Tancred was in an entirely different position. With his Adanan allies, he could virtually match Baldwin for manpower, and, more importantly, he already had full control of Mamistra's fortifications. This time he would not back down.
With accusation and suspicion running rife, a confrontation was almost inevitable. When it came, it was short lived but brutal, and afterwards each side claimed the other had instigated the fighting. It may, in fact, have been little more than an impromptu brawl, but, all the same, a number of men were seriously injured, one or two were even slain, and captives were seized from both camps. Peace was restored the very next day and prisoners returned, but this was a dark and shocking episode: the knights of Christ had, for the first time, spilled one another's blood. Greed and ambition had brought discord to the crusade.
Following the melee at Mamistra, Tancred and Baldwin went their separate ways and would not meet again during the crusade. Baldwin was contacted by an Armenian noble named Bagrat, whom he had earlier befriended at Nicaea, and, lured east by the promise of fresh conquests, he left Cilicia behind him. Tancred garrisoned Mamistra with fifty knights and started out for the Belen Pass. He negotiated the crossing into Syria without difficulty, secured access to the port of Alexandretta and rendezvoused with the main crusading host as it marched on Antioch.41
In many ways, the Cilician expedition was a success: friendly relations were established with the Armenian population; the towns of Tarsus and Mamistra were garrisoned; and the direct route between Asia Minor and Antioch was secured. The venture also brought Baldwin and Tancred out of the shadows - from this point forth both would play prominent roles in the history of the crusading movement. The incursions into Cilicia may have served the overall interests of the expedition to Jerusalem, but they did, nonetheless, point towards a disturbing future, in which the pious vision of Jerusalem might be clouded, or even obscured, by personal rivalries and the temptations of wealth and power.
The journey of the main armies
While Tancred and Baldwin of Boulogne crossed Cilicia, the remainder of the crusading army forged a route north to Caesarea in Cappadocia and then south-east to reach Coxon in the first week of October. To this point the journey went well: Turkish garrisons fled as the host approached and no real resistance was encountered;
friendly relations were established with the local Armenian population, which provided plentiful supplies; and the Franks' role as servants of the Greek emperor was fulfilled, as Byzantine representatives were installed in command of two towns, Assan and Comana. At Coxon, Raymond of Toulouse, who had been ill for much of the journey from Iconium, recovered his strength. Around 7 October he dispatched a sizeable force, perhaps containing as many as 500 knights, south towards Antioch. This was in essence a scouting party, but Raymond may have been hoping to occupy Antioch before the rest of the crusade arrived, because he had heard a rumour that its garrison had deserted. When this proved to be false, the knight Peter of Roaix was sent with a small force, skirting around to the south of the city and into the Ruj valley, where, after brief fighting, he established a Provencal outpost.42
For the main army, the journey south from Coxon over a low-lying arm of the Anti-Taurus proved troublesome. A member of Bohemond's army described the experience:
We set out and began to cross a damnable mountain, which was so high and steep that none of our men dared to overtake one another on the mountain path. Horses fell over the precipice, and one beast of burden dragged another down. As for the knights, they stood about in a great state of gloom, wringing their hands because they were so frightened and miserable, not knowing what to do with themselves and their armour, and offering to sell their shields, valuable breastplates and helmets for threepence or fivepence or any price they could get. Those who could not find a buyer threw their arms away and went on.43
Finally, around 10 October 1097, the First Crusade reached Marash, at the head of the Amouk valley and the route towards Antioch and northern Syria. Upon their approach, the town's Muslim garrison fled, and Marash's Armenian governor Thatoul, who had until then ruled as a Turkish client, offered the Franks a warm welcome. Lavish markets were set up, from which the crusaders could purchase all manner of supplies and provisions to soothe away memories of the Anti-Taurus.44
The First Crusade had survived the crossing of Asia Minor, albeit with major losses - perhaps half of those who had left Europe had been lost to battle, disease and starvation 45 No other crusade would manage this feat, though many tried. Sheer bloody-minded perseverance, the help of allies and a healthy dose of luck enabled the armies of this first exped
ition to succeed. Now, however, the Franks faced the greatest challenge of the crusade.
BALDWIN'S COLD-BLOODED AMBITION
While the rest of the crusade prepared to march on Antioch, Baldwin of Boulogne left to find his fortune. Having abandoned Cilicia at the behest of his Armenian confidant Bagrat, he briefly rendezvoused with the Frankish host at Marash. In mid-October his English wife, Godwera, died from an illness, but if Baldwin felt any great grief it did not long distract him from his purpose. After the frustrations and disappointments of Cilicia, he decided to break away from the crusade, putting aside his vow to march to the Holy Land. Bagrat promised rich pickings to the east, and Baldwin saw an opportunity to carve out a new Levantine lordship around the River Euphrates. If he succeeded, the resultant territory might benefit the crusade, acting as a buffer state and foraging centre, but on this occasion there can be little doubt that Baldwin was acting primarily out of self-interest. His resources were extremely limited - he left Marash in the company of no more than a hundred knights - but this was balanced by his ruthless ambition and political acumen.46
At first, Baldwin was also able to capitalise on the awe that the western knights of the crusade inspired in Armenians and Turks alike. Playing off their fear of the main Frankish host, he was able to intimidate local Turkish garrisons into capitulation or flight. The towns of Tell Bashir and Ravendan fell into his hands, as their Armenian populations gratefully accepted 'liberation'. He could, by the end of 1097, claim control of a swathe of territory running east to the Euphrates. Baldwin had begun to make his mark. He initially rewarded Bagrat with the lordship of Ravendan, but their friendship soon wore thin. The exact cause of the dispute is unclear - Bagrat may have been plotting to assert his independence - but, for whatever reason, Baldwin declared him a traitor and, when he fled, had him hunted down and dragged before him in chains. Baldwin then had his former ally brutally tortured, at one point threatening to have him 'torn limb from limb while yet alive' unless he confessed his plans.47
Baldwin's conquests did not go unnoticed. To the east of the Euphrates, Thoros, the Armenian ruler of Edessa, was having trouble holding on to power. Distrusted by Edessa's populace because of his close links with the Byzantines, and threatened with aggression from his Turkish neighbour, Balduk of Samosata, Thoros needed a new weapon in his arsenal. Impressed by Baldwin's ferocious reputation, he proposed an alliance. Edessa was one of the great cities of Mesopotamia, a fitting capital for Baldwin's new lordship, so in February 1098 he set out across the Euphrates with a small force of knights, his eye open for any opportunity. En route, he only narrowly evaded a large raiding party from Samosata, but on approaching Edessa he enjoyed a rapturous welcome. One of his followers recalled that 'Passing by Armenian towns, you would have been amazed to see them coming humbly to meet us, carrying crosses and banners, and kissing our feet and garments for the love of God because they had heard we were going to protect them from the Turks.'48
Thoros may initially have planned to employ Baldwin as a mercenary, but when the Frank actually arrived to such widespread acclaim he quickly decided to formalise their relationship. Although married, Thoros had no children, so he elected to adopt Baldwin as his son and heir. Baldwin duly submitted himself to the necessary, if somewhat bizarre, public ritual: both men were stripped to the waist;
Thoros then embraced Baldwin, 'binding him to his naked chest', while a long shirt was placed over both of them to seal the union.
Thoros soon looked to exploit this adoption. Within a week, Baldwin and his Frankish troops were dispatched at the head of an Armenian force to deal with the threat from Samosata. Although he was unable actually to capture the town, Baldwin succeeded in garrisoning a nearby fort, largely neutralising the immediate threat posed by Balduk. On his return to Edessa, Baldwin discovered that a group of Edessene nobles were plotting to assassinate Thoros and elevate him in his adopted fathers place. Our view of Baldwins reaction, and the degree of his complicity in what followed, depends on which source we trust. According to one Latin contemporary, 'Baldwin refused with every objection to undertake such a crime. But an Armenian living in Edessa at the time recorded that 'they persuaded him to accede to their evil designs and promised to deliver Edessa into his hands; Baldwin approved of their vicious plot'.49
We do know that in early March 1098 Edessa's population turned on Thoros. Terrified, he sought the sanctuary of his citadel. He realised that he could no longer rule the city but, still hoping to negotiate his escape and that of his wife, he turned to Baldwin. The crusader duly swore the most solemn.of oaths, his hands placed upon Edessa's most sacred relics, promising to protect the life of his father, and was allowed into the citadel. But, on the very next day, he let the mob into the fortress. Wild with bloodlust, they seized Thoros and 'threw him down from the top of the ramparts into the midst of a raging crowd' which ripped him to pieces and then paraded the remains of his body throughout the city. It was in this manner that Baldwin of Boulogne became ruler of Edessa. Even his own chaplain could muster only this terse defence of Baldwin's actions: 'The [Edessenes] wickedly plotted to slay their prince because they hated him and to elevate Baldwin to the palace to rule the land. This was suggested and it was done. Baldwin and his men were much grieved because they were not able to obtain mercy for him.'50
Complicit or not, Baldwin had blood on his hands, but he quickly
asserted an iron grip over Edessa and its environs. Within months, Balduk of Samosata had been subdued, becoming a client ruler, while another nearby town, Sorogia, was conquered and entrusted to one of Baldwin's Frankish lieutenants. In the space of less than half a year, with just a handful of men, Baldwin had established the first crusader state in the Near East - the county of Edessa.51
5
BEFORE THE WALLS OF ANTIOCH
The crusaders arrived in Syria, on the northern borders of the Holy Land, in the late summer of 1097. Jerusalem, their ultimate goal, was nearly within their grasp. It was tantalisingly close, perhaps only a month's journey to the south. Unfortunately for the crusaders, a massive obstacle stood in their way: Antioch, one of the greatest cities of the Orient, guarded the route south to Palestine. The Latins laid siege to this city, entering into one of the most brutal, gruelling and prolonged military engagements of the Middle Ages. The crusade stalled in northern Syria for one and a half years, and at this moment, more than any other, its future lay tortuously balanced between utter annihilation and miraculous success. The very concept of crusading was tested to breaking point in the fires of this conflict and ultimately emerged more powerfully and permanently forged.
Even in the eleventh century Antioch was an ancient city. Founded 300 years before the birth of Christ, in the aftermath of Alexander the Great's conquests, and named for one of his generals, Antiochus, it rapidly became a vital conduit of trade between East and West. At its height, Antioch was the third city of the Roman Empire, with a population in excess of 300,000, Alongside its economic and political importance, the city also had an impressive
spiritual pedigree, being revered in Christian tradition as the site of the first church founded by St Peter, chief of the apostles. Antioch thrived until the sixth century CE, its magnificence enhanced by a massive building programme under the Emperor Justinian, which saw the entire city enclosed within a formidable defensive wall by 560. Around this time, however, a series of disasters befell the region: Syria has always been prone to tectonic activity and Antioch was rocked by three major earthquakes in this period; the outbreak of plague and a city-wide fire caused further damage; it was sacked by the Persians and finally conquered by the Arabs in 638. Under the Muslims, Antioch's power was eclipsed by that of two neighbouring cities - Aleppo and Damascus. Then, in 969, the Byzantines reconquered the city, restoring some of its former glory. For more than a century it was a cornerstone of the Byzantine world, the lynchpin of the empire's eastern frontier. But in the inevitable ebb and flow of power Greek dominion over northern Syria waned with the co
ming of the Seljuq Turks, and Antioch fell once more into Muslim hands in 1085. By the end of the eleventh century, then, Antioch was steeped in a labyrinthine history, its walls echoed with the grandeur of a former age, its streets were commanded by Turks but peopled by a cosmopolitan mixture of Greek, Armenian and Syrian Christians, Arabs and Jews.1
When Antioch fell to the Turks, the Seljuqs of northern Syria enjoyed a short-lived period of unity. Malik Shah seized control of Baghdad and, through sheer military ferocity and shrewd political manipulation, bludgeoned the region into submissive unity. His death in 1092 was followed by a succession crisis and the rapid fragmentation of Muslim power. By the time the crusaders arrived in 1097, the political makeup of the region was incredibly complex. Shah's son was embroiled in a struggle for control of Baghdad, while his nephews, Ridwan of Aleppo and Duqaq of Damascus, fought over Syria and contested control of Antioch. The city itself was governed by a wily and ambitious Turcoman named Yaghi Siyan. One contemporary described his memorable appearance: 'His head was of enormous size, the ears very wide and hairy, his hair was white and he had a beard which flowed from his chin to his navel.' Eagerly seeking any opportunity to achieve autonomy, Yaghi Siyan vacillated between Aleppo and Damascus, clutching on to the veneer of independence. Seljuq power was further undermined by religious schism: while the Turks were almost all Sunni Muslims, numerous pockets of Shi'ite Arabs dotted the region. In short, faction and instability weakened northern Syria, leaving the Turkish garrison of Antioch in isolation, without immediate recourse to any potent, unified military support.2
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