by John France
23 France, ‘Election of Godfrey de Bouillon’, 321–30.
24 RA, pp. 152–3, 155; AA, 497–8.
25 RA, pp. 130, 136–7; AA, 463.
26 RA, pp. 139, 143–5, 151; RC, 685; GF, p. 91.
27 RA, pp. 135–6; on carrier pigeons see the extract from Abu-Shama, Kitab al-Ravdatayn in Lewis, Islam from Mohammed to the Capture of Constantinople, 1. 223–4.
28 On relations with the cities, see above, p. 329; France, ‘The capture of Jerusalem’, 640–57; RA, pp. 135–6, 141.
29 Damascus Chronicle of the Crusades, p. 45; Ibn al-Athir, 197; RA, pp. 110, 136–7; AA, 380, 463–4.
30 AA, 473.
31 FC, p. 121; AA, 463, 477; on the Patriarch see above, p. 209; Runicman, 1. 280, n. 1; WT, 373; H. Dajani-Shekeel, ‘Natives and Franks in Palestine’, in M. Gervers and R. J. Bikhazi, eds., Conversion and Continuity: Indigenous Christian Communities in the Islamic Lands (Toronto, 1990), p. 166; S. D. Goitein, ‘Contemporary letters on the capture of Jerusalem by the Crusaders’, Journal of Jewish Studies, 3 (1952), 162–77, ‘Geniza sources from the crusader period: a survey’, in B. Z. Kedar, H. E. Meyer and R. C. Smail, eds., Outremer: Studies in the History of the Crusading Kingdom of Jersualem presented to Joshua Prawer (Jerusalem, 1982), pp. 161–84.
32 As late as the nineteenth century, Jersualem in summer suffered from a terrible water-shortage and families had to exist on one or two goat-skins per week. The Pool of Siloa and its source, the springs of Gihon, remained important for the water supply of the city and the discoverers of Hezekiah’s tunnel noted that the spring sent out only a small continuous flow with a surge at intervals of four to ten hours: M. Gilbert, Jerusalem, Rebirth of a City (1838–98) (London, 1985), pp. 4–5, 152. There is a reference to a late twelfth-century refurbishment of the structure under the Latin Kingdom: M. R. Morgan, La Continuation de Guillaume de Tyr (1184–1197) (Paris, 1982), pp. 22–3; AA, 462–3, 469–470, 472; RC, 691; RA, pp. 139–2; GF, p. 88; FG, pp. 119–20; France, ‘Capture of Jerusalem’, 644–5.
33 RA, pp. 137, 139; GF, pp. 88–9; RC, 690, 688–90; BD, 100; AA, 467–8.
34 GF, pp. 88–9; RA, pp. 141–2; AA, 468–9.
35 The description of Jerusalem which follows is based on that of Prawer, ‘The Jerusalem’, pp. 1–5, whose author ackowledges his debt to earlier researchers such as F. M. Abel, ‘L’état de la cité de Jérusalem au XII siècle’, in G. R. Ashbee, ed., Records of the Pro-Jerusalem Council (London, 1924); C. N. Johns, Palestine of the Crusaders (Jersualem, 1946); M. de Vogüé, Les Églises de la Terre Sainte (Paris, 1860). His careful account has been supplemented by my own observations and differences of view are noted. See also Y. Katzir, The conquests of Jerusalem in 1099 and 1187’, in V. Goss and C. C. Bornstein, eds., The Meeting of Two Worlds (Michigan, 1986), pp. 105–14.
36 As it is, the Ottoman salient is now totally dominated by the bulk of Notre Dame de France fifty metres across HaZanhanim.
37 Prawer, p. 5, believed that there was an outer wall as far as the Zion Gate but he relies here on RA, p. 148, ‘iam fractis antemuralibus et conpleto vallo, citissime murus interior peruaderetur’. The difficulty is that Raymond is describing the two assaults, from Mt Zion and from the North, as if they were one, so that the reference to an outer wall may be to that faced by the northern attack. An earlier mention, p. 139, in connection with the assault of 13 June, also refers to the northern part of the city. The Unknown account has no reference to an outer wall by Mt Zion, while the Anonymous speaks only of the filling in of the ditch and adds: ‘when it was full they took the siege-tower up to the wall’. My conclusion is that the Provençals faced a single wall with a moat outside it.
38 RA, p. 147; AA, 477; Prawer, ‘The Jerusalem’, p. 11; Hamblin, The Fatimid Army during the Crusades, pp. 64–5.
39 AA, 463–4, 468; Prawer, pp. 5–6 and fig. 1 accepts Albert’s account as describing a first stage of the siege; on the building of siege machinery see below pp. 346–8.
40 RC, 687; GF, p. 88; RA, p. 137; Prawer, pp. 5–7 accepts Albert’s description as giving an initial order of siege and places Godfrey east of the two Roberts. The Quadrangular Tower was later called ‘Tancred’s Tower’ but this was not because he had taken position outside it, but because, as RC, 701 makes clear, he later controlled it for a while.
41 RA, p. 138; AA, 463–4; Both mention the move though only Raymond mentions resistance. GF, p. 87 and RC, 687 say that Raymond besieged the city from Mt Zion without mentioning any prior position.
42 France, ‘Capture of Jerusalem’, 644–5; RA, pp. 145–6, 153.
43 RA, p. 139; RC, 685, 688.
44 GF, p. 88; RA, p. 139; RC, 688–9; AA, P. 467; PT, P. 103; Prawer, ‘The Jerusalem’, pp. 7–9, believes that the point of attack can be identified as close to the present New Gate, but this depends on his mistaken notion of where Tancred was, on which see above p. 344, n. 40. I would suggest that the attack was somewhat to the east, on level ground towards the Damascus Gate. See fig. 17b.
45 On William see F. Cardini, ‘Profilo d’un crociato, Guglielno Embriaco’, Archivio Storico Italiano, 136 (1978), 417–18.
46 Rogers, Latin Siege Warfare, p. 133, thinks that a staged tower would probably have been as strong as one built using massive single corner posts, but RC, 692 indicates very clearly that the structure nearly failed. Perhaps the workmanship was not very good.
47 AA, 467–70; RC, 689–91; RA, p. 146; France, ‘Capture of Jerusalem’, 645.
48 RA, pp. 144–5; GF, p. 90; for the reconciliation of Tancred and Raymond see above p. 331; BD, 100–1 says the clergy urged the virtue of dying where Christ had died, on which see H. E. J. Cowdrey, ‘Martyrdom and the First Crusade’, in P. Edbury, ed., Crusade and Settlement in the Latin East (Cardiff, 1985), p. 51.
49 AA, 468; RA, p. 146; for the raid see above, p. 347; Nablus, some fifty-four kilometres north of Jerusalem, seems to have marked the extreme range of their ravaging around Jerusalem.
50 On the location of Godfrey’s camp and the building of the assault tower there see above PP. 343–4, n.40.
51 RA, p. 147; RC, 690; AA, 471.
52 GF, p. 90; RA, p. 147; Prawer, ‘The Jerusalem’, cites the twelfth century Cambrai map.
53 Prawer, p. 11, says quite accurately that the Wadi is evident in the Ratner Garden about one hundred metres east of Herod’s Gate, but then suggests that the attack took place in this area ‘sixty-five metres between the second tower east of Herod’s Gate and the first salient square in the wall beyond it’. In fact between this tower and the salient is only about seventeen metres. The Ottoman salient was probably built to cover just this weak spot, which is where, I believe, the attack took place.
54 AA, 472.
55 AA, 471–2; RC, 691–2; Prawer, ‘The Jerusalem’, p. 10.
56 Prawer, p. 10.
57 For a description of twelfth-century Islamic siege weapons see the extract from al-Tarsusi in Lewis, Islam from Mohammed to the Capture of Constantinople, 1. 218–23.
58 Prawer, ‘The Jerusalem’, p. 10; RC, 691; AA, 474–5.
59 AA, 476–7; RA, p. 150.
60 RA, p. 150; in their translation Hill and Hill, p. 127, suggest the rendering ‘Godfrey lowered the drawbridge which had defended the tower’. However, the circumstantial accounts of Albert and Ralph suggest something improvised, and the sense in Raymond of something which protected the tower in the middle and upper stories suggests to me that Godfrey hacked off some of the reinforcing across the front of the tower, which would necessarily have been given more than the other sides, and so crossed the gap. In this, I follow the suggestion of Prawer, ‘The Jerusalem’, p. 10, n. 52.
61 Ibn al-Athir, 197; Damascus Chronicle of the Crusades, p. 47; Michael, p. 184; Matthew, 45; Bar-Hebraeus, p. 235.
62 France, ‘Capture of Jerusalem’, 644–6; RA, pp. 148–51; AA, 475;, PT, p. 118. This was perhaps Greek fire on which see above p. 162, n. 58.
63 RA, p. 149 says that a knight waved from the Mt of Olive
s as Godfrey’s force penetrated the city and this is expanded by PT p. 109 and others.
64 AA, 478; RC, 694; RA, pp. 147, gives a figure of 60,000 for the garrison, but this is nonsense, p. 151.
65 Ibn al-Athir, 197; Maalouf, Crusades through Arab Eyes, pp. iii, 50; Goitein, ‘Geniza sources’, pp. 308–11, 313; RC, 696–7.
66 Matthew, 108, 152–4; Bar Hebraeus, pp. 212–13; Michael, p. 158–9.
67 Douglas, William the Conqueror, p. 368; OV, 2. 233; on military ethics in the west see above pp. 41–4.
68 RA, pp. 151–2; GF, p. 91; AA, 482–3.
69 AA, 477, 479, 481–2.
70 AA, 483–4.
71 AA, 485–6; RA, pp. 152–3; GF, p. 92; on the general circumstances see France, ‘Election of Godfrey de Bouillon’; Riley-Smith, ‘The title of Godfrey de Bouillon’, 83–6 inclines to the idea of a kingship as does Murray, ‘Title of Godfrey de Bouillon’ (see above p. 332, n. 22) but it still seems to the present writer that if Godfrey had been made a king the contemporary sources would not have been so evasive in the way they describe him; on Tancred see above pp. 331, 347; on Arnulf see Foreville, ‘Arnoul Malecouronne’.
72 On Egyptian determination to recover control in this area see Köhler, Allianzen und Verträge, pp. 60–2.
73 Encyclopaedia of Islam 1. ‘al-Afdal’, ‘Badr al-Jamali’; AA, 484–5, 490; Ekkehard, 4; Köhler, Allianzen und Verträge, p. 67, points to Islamic evidence of an ambassador sent to the Franks just before the battle of Ascalon on 12 August 1099. On the history of crusader contacts with Egypt see above, pp. 252–3, 325–6; RA, p. 110.
74 Hamblin, Fatimid Army, p. 225, which is the main source for the description of the Egyptian army which follows. See also Lev, Slate and Society in Fatimid Egypt, and his article, ‘Army, regime and society in Fatimid Egypt’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, 19 (1987), 337–66; B. S. Bachrach, ‘African military slaves in the medieval Middle east: Iraq (869–951) and Egypt (868–1171)’, International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 13 (1981), 471–95; B. S. Beshir, The Fatamid Caliphate 975–1094, Ph.D thesis, University of London, 1970, ‘Fatamid military organisation’, Der Islam, 55. 1 (1978), 37–56; C. E. Bosworth, ‘Turks in the Islamic lands up to the mid-eleventh century’, Fundamenta Philologiae Turcicae, Part 2, Les Turcs muslmans avant les Ottomans (Wiesbaden, 1970), pp. 1–20, ‘Recruitment, muster and review’, 60–77 esp. 66–7; D. O. Leary, Short History of the Fatamid Caliphate (London, 1923).
75 Lev, State and Society in Fatimid Egypt, points out that black slaves were prominent from the time of al-Hakim (996–1021), pp. 88–9; Naser-e Khosraw, Book of Travels, pp. 48–50; this extract is also printed by Lewis, Islam from Mohammed to the Capture of Constantinople, 1. 217–18.
76 AA, 490, refers to Ethiopians, 494, Azoparts with their terrible flails.
77 On their effective hit and run tactics and on the role of heavy slave infantry recruited from Africa see M. Brett, ‘Military interest of the battle of Haydaran’, pp. 78–88.
78 Damascus Chronicle of the Crusades, pp. 48–9; Ibn al-Athir, 198; al-Dhahabi cited Hamblin, Fatimid Army, p. 238 gives 20,000.
79 RC, 699–703; GF, p. 93.
80 AA, 490–1.
81 GF, p. 94; RA, pp. 154–5; AA, 491.
82 GF, p. 94; RA, pp. 156–7; FC, p. 126; AA, 491–2.
83 RA, p. 157; AA, 492.
84 For a good summary description of the site with an excellent bibliography see D. Pringle, ‘King Richard I and the walls of Ascalon’, Palestine Exploration (Quarterly, 116 (1984), 133–47. A key work in the history of the site’s exploration is C. R. Conder and H. H. Kitchener, The Survey of Western Palestine, 4 vols. (London, 1883), 3. 236–47. Today the ruins of Ascalon lie to the south of the modern city of that name and form a huge archaeological park. The visible remains bear witness to the reconstructions of Richard I, destroyed by treaty in 1192, and the later work of Richard of Cornwall, but the main enceinte clearly shows the fortified area faced by the crusade in 1099.
85 GF, p. 95; RA, p. 157; FC, p. 126; AA, 493–4.
86 RA, p. 157; GF, p. 95; AA, 495–6; Damascus Chronicle of the Crusades, p. 48.
87 FC, pp. 126–7; AA, 494–6.
88 GF, pp. 96–7; FC p. 127; RA, p. 158; AA, 495–6.
89 Ibn Khaldun 4.42; Ibn al-Athir, 286; Hamblin, Fatimid Army, pp. 244–8.
90 RA, p. 159; AA, 497–8; BD, 111; Runciman 2. 339.
91 AA, 498–9.
92 AA, 500–1; on Daimbert and his position as a Legate see B. Hamilton, The Latin Church, p. 14.
CHAPTER 12
Perspectives
* * *
There can be no doubt that burning religious conviction underlay the success of the First Crusade. Time and again when all seemed lost, at Antioch and at Jerusalem particularly, the army rallied to God’s cause. The deep conviction that they were the servants of God underlay the boldness with which they tackled and surprised such formidable enemies as the Egyptians, when all rational calculation would have advised against it. Indeed, not the least of the factors which made for their success was the inability of the Middle Eastern powers to comprehend this all or nothing mentality. But burning zeal has to be controlled, disciplined and sustained. Ecclesiastical power alone was not enough, and as in Western society generally so on the crusade, power was exercised by an alliance of church, in the person of Adhémar, and state in the persons of the princes. When the ambitions, hesitations and doubts of the lay leaders disrupted the crusade and ecclesiastical authority collapsed with the death of Adhémar, the army was plunged into crisis from which it was rescued only by a zealot minority represented by Peter Bartholemew in alliance with the count of Toulouse. They owed their power to articulating the feelings of the overwhelming mass of the crusaders of all ranks, and when Peter was discredited Godfrey was able to harness this raw power. That religious zeal had a very narrow and material focus – to liberate Jerusalem. Later crusades would never suffer from such tunnel vision, but this enormously concentrated the efforts of the army in contrast to their successors in 1101 and 1147.1 For ideological cohesion was a rare phenomenon in the eleventh century, as Gregory VII had discovered, and it is hard to see how any wider objective could have carried the concentrated appeal of Jerusalem.
But their spirit and organisation could never have succeeded without help. Byzantine aid was of enormous assistance. At the siege of Nicaea it was very much in evidence, but thereafter it appeared to dwindle. This was a false perspective, for Alexius’s real service to the crusaders was to support them from Cyprus which formed an offshore base for the siege of Antioch and operations in North Syria (see fig. 3). In addition, Alexius seems to have committed a sizable fleet to their assistance – far more important than Tatikios’s small contingent. Without Byzantine help it is difficult to see how the western fleets could have operated so successfully. The reason for this enormous Byzantine investment was that this was a joint enterprise. The whole Armenian strategy promised the restoration of Byzantine power in the old dominion of Philaretus and the collapse of the Seljuk dominion in western Asia Minor opened the way for the reconquest of the southern part of the sub-continent. So when it came to a dispute Alexius could rightly say that he had played his part but in the end the greatest prize eluded him, for the decision to turn back at Philomelium gave Bohemond his opportunity and a moral justification for the dislike of the Greeks which was never far below the surface amongst the Westerners.
And Byzantine help had its influence in another way. The crusade was enormously assisted by the divisions of Islam. Had the Seljuk dominion of less than ten years before still existed, it is impossible to see how they could have succeeded. Alexius almost certainly explained the problems of the Turks and the divisions of Islam to his allies, for we know it was his idea to send an embassy to Egypt. But it has to be said that the western princes took their cue skillfully and played the Egyptians well, and applied the idea to other Islamic powers. They were more pragmatic than the stereotype o
f the crusader in absolute and bitter opposition to all that is Islamic would sugggest. The fanaticism which drove on the great expedition was an underlying force of enormous power but its influence upon events was continual rather than continuous. Nor should we forget that although the Islamic powers were divided, they were each individually very strong and that in every major battle the crusaders fought against odds. No matter how enthusiastic they were, nor how well supported, victory in the clash of arms was never inevitable and to understand that we must turn to more narrowly military factors.
The individual leaders exerted great control over their own armies. Robert of Normandy is one of the failures of history and this casts a shadow over him, but at Dorylaeum he rallied the troops at a crucial moment, and at Ascalon he was at the heart of a charge which swept all before it. This was military ability of a high order. Robert of Flanders was a brave soldier who organised the foraging and gathering of materials at Jerusalem. Godfrey was in the thick of the fighting at the siege of Jerusalem and this was important in an age when leading by example mattered. Bohemond was an able general whose aggressive tactics created the victories over Ridwan and Kerbogah. He made the crusaders use rear-guards – this was by no means an innovation in western war but it was a development which needed discipline and control, and such qualities became more evident in the crusader army as time went on. Bohemond’s genius lay in his aggressiveness – his determination to unsettle the enemy and take them unawares, and this characterises his victories over Ridwan and Kerbogah. He was not a tactical innovator – the real innovation was the use of infantry, and that arose from circumstance as they became better armed and more experienced. The battle against Kerbogah was an infantry battle perforce – it was only at Ascalon that the lessons of careful co-ordination were applied. But Bohemond’s real importance lay in the fact of his appointment as sole commander in moments of crisis. The divisions of the leaders, their determination to head their own armies and do jointly only what was agreed jointly, was the real weakness of this and almost all other crusades. It was their good fortune that when this co-operation was at its newest and their troops at their rawest, they confronted the weakest of their enemies, the Turks of Asia Minor. The nomads were ferocious fighters, but they were not numerous and Kilij Arslan’s tactics depended too heavily on the moral effect of sudden onslaughts. He allowed his men, whose genius lay in mobile warfare, to be caught in slogging matches where numbers counted; in 1101 the Turks would learn patience and close only with a demoralised enemy. It was luck too that when the leaders were at their most divided after the fall of Antioch, the Islamic world was demoralised and quite unable to exploit their problems, so that despite the fragility of their co-operation they pressed on to Jerusalem.