The Field of Blood

by Nicholas Morton

  In 1120 the nobles had expressed their discontent by attempting to prevent Baldwin from traveling north with the kingdom’s great standard, the True Cross (a large fragment of the Cross of Christ, discovered shortly after the First Crusade). More worryingly, during Baldwin’s absence, a noble faction had begun to conspire against him, even offering the throne to Count Charles of Flanders. Legally speaking, Baldwin’s position as king was vulnerable, and he had originally taken the throne despite the existence of a more legitimate candidate.47 It is not clear how much Baldwin knew of the plotters’ scheme, but he probably realized that something was afoot. He needed to resecure his position at home. Any appetite he might once have felt for hurling his armies against Aleppo’s walls was spent.

  This did not mean that he was prepared to neglect his responsibility to defend Antioch. Indeed, no sooner had he returned to Jerusalem than he had to raise a new force to defend Antioch against a major attack led by Aqsunqur. Still, his conduct during this, one of his most successful expeditions, reflects his changing priorities.

  The campaign began when Aqsunqur joined forces with Tughtakin and their combined army advanced into Antiochene territory where, in early May 1125, they forced the surrender of the fortress of Kafartab. Then the Turkish leaders moved quickly to besiege the nearby stronghold of Azaz. Aqsunqur was an active commander, and he swiftly erected twelve catapults with which to hammer the walls while miners set to work undermining them. This news sent Baldwin hurrying north again, collecting the count of Tripoli en route and joining forces with the northern Franks at Antioch.

  By this time, Azaz’s defenders were growing concerned that the sheer size of the combined Aleppan and Damascene army would deter Baldwin from trying to lift the siege. Consequently, a Frankish knight in the garrison volunteered to perform an audacious act of bravery. He mounted a fast horse and galloped straight out of the town’s gates, bursting through the enemy guards blockading his path and leaping over a defensive ditch created by the besiegers. He broke through the Turkish army and headed straight for Antioch to encourage Baldwin to march to their aid as swiftly as possible. He rode carrying a sword in one hand and a concealed carrier pigeon, clasped against his chest, in the other. Amazingly, he was not caught, and on reaching Antioch he was able to release the pigeon to send back news that help was on its way. But when the bird returned to Azaz, it landed in the Turkish camp rather than at the castle, and Aqsunqur ordered that its message be changed to one ordering the garrison’s immediate surrender. Fortunately for the Franks, the garrison sensed something amiss in the new message and chose to disregard the instruction.48

  Baldwin was closing fast on Azaz by this point. He first reached the ancient town of Cyrrhus—a magnificent classical site with a great Roman amphitheater—where he deposited his baggage train before advancing on the Turkish siege works outside Azaz. Baldwin’s army was small, but it contained a powerful force of heavy cavalry (perhaps over a thousand knights) and a strong Armenian contingent. Nevertheless, there was no escaping the fact that Aqsunqur’s forces were far larger, and the Turks responded to the advancing Christians by encircling their small army and pinning it down. The confrontation quickly turned into a battle of attrition. The Turks managed to corral the Franks in a tight space, riding around their battle lines and preventing them from gathering food. They also sought to dishearten Baldwin and his men by launching repeated small attacks against their lines and shouting great war cries. This was a bad start for the Franks, yet Baldwin saw a chance to use the Turks’ own tactics against them.

  After three days of relentless pressure, Baldwin’s army cut a path away from Azaz and toward the nearby stronghold of al-Atharib. To all appearances the king was a beaten man seeking refuge. In reality, he was baiting a trap. He had managed to get a message through to the garrison at Azaz instructing them to send up a smoke signal when the Turks set out in pursuit of his departing army. Baldwin’s force marched for two miles before smoke discolored the spring sky. The Turks had been convinced that the Franks were in full retreat, and they dashed toward the withdrawing Christian army. As they closed on their enemy, the Frankish knights—alerted to their presence by the Azaz garrison—suddenly wheeled round, gave a great trumpet call, and charged straight at their pursuers. The Turks had no chance to evade hand-to-hand combat and simply plowed into—and probably under—the oncoming heavy cavalry. The resulting melee destroyed the Turkish army and created thousands of casualties.49

  This was a substantial victory won against the combined might of two of Turkish Syria’s most capable commanders. Had he wished, Baldwin could have followed up on his success by marching on Aleppo, but what he did instead betrays a perceptible change of mood. He did not seek to capitalize on his victory. Instead, he signed a truce with Aqsunqur and then returned south. As far as Antioch was concerned, Baldwin had moved from the offensive to the defensive. The struggle for Aleppo was over. Baldwin needed to focus on Jerusalem. He may have been the victor, but he had yielded the fight.

  Baldwin must have been aware that his tenure as temporary ruler of Antioch was coming to an end. Bohemond II was coming of age and would be arriving soon. The burden of defending two states simultaneously was almost over.

  In some respects the Kingdom of Jerusalem (if not its overworked ruler) had been the true beneficiary of the intensive fighting to the north. The Jerusalemites may have been deprived of their king’s leadership for long periods, but many of Jerusalem’s enemies had also committed their resources to the ongoing struggle for Aleppo and had consequently held back from attacking the kingdom. The most important of these was Tughtakin. From 1119 to 1125 he had frequently found himself marching north, both to support his Turkish allies and to pursue his own schemes. These entanglements ensured that he was rarely in a position to take advantage of Baldwin’s absences from Jerusalem. On only one occasion during this period did he launch a limited—and unsuccessful—attack against the kingdom, and ironically this was at a time when Baldwin was actually present.

  These small encounters aside, the war for Aleppo seems to have had the effect of sheltering the Kingdom of Jerusalem. The wars between Antioch and Aleppo sucked in the Near East’s combatant factions while allowing other areas to live in relative peace. With Tughtakin and Baldwin engaged to the north, the Kingdom of Jerusalem could continue to grow stronger, build new villages, welcome pilgrims, and encourage settlers. Castles were being constructed, trade was burgeoning, and the port cities were bustling with activity. Increasingly, Jerusalem was the region’s dominant military power, and Tughtakin was consistently wary about risking an encounter with Baldwin’s army (at least without the support of major allies).

  Another longstanding threat to Jerusalem was Fatimid Egypt to the south. The Fatimids were less cautious than Tughtakin and were better prepared to take advantage of Baldwin’s absences. In the spring of 1123, shortly after messengers arrived reporting Baldwin’s captivity, a large Fatimid army crossed the Sinai and camped at Ascalon, supported by a fleet of eighty ships. From there they advanced up the coast to vigorously besiege the important pilgrim port of Jaffa. Jaffa’s garrison was not large, and the Fatimid infantry made several assaults on the walls. Their attacks were beaten off only with the greatest of difficulty, and chroniclers report that the townswomen played a vital role in Jaffa’s defense, bringing rocks and water to the defenders on the ramparts.50

  The siege concluded soon afterward. The kingdom’s constable, Eustace Grenier, gathered its army at Qaqun, to the north of Jaffa, and advanced south along the coastal plain. The Fatimid army seems to have made some attempt to meet them in battle, but the engagement soon became a rout, and the Egyptians were forced to withdraw with heavy losses. In the years that followed the Egyptians launched several forays out of Ascalon, but these were generally small-scale raids and were not pressed home with much enthusiasm.

  Confronted by few external challengers, the Kingdom of Jerusalem was in a position to take the offensive—despite the king’s absence—and
in 1124 the Jerusalemites achieved a long-desired goal: the conquest of Tyre. By 1124 Tyre was the sole port on the Levantine coast between Jaffa in the south and the Principality of Antioch in the north to remain in Muslim hands. It was one of the few natural harbors on the largely featureless eastern Mediterranean coastline. The city itself was built on a promontory that stuck out into the sea, creating a natural shelter for shipping. It was accessible from the land on only one side, which rendered it highly defensible. Efforts had been made previously to conquer the city, and in 1108 Baldwin I had besieged it for a month, but at that time he had despaired of breaking through its formidable ramparts and had allowed himself to be bought off by the defenders. In 1111 Baldwin I made another serious attempt to take Tyre, besieging it for almost five months from land and sea. His engineers constructed two massive siege towers with which to assail the walls, but he was eventually beaten off when the defenders, who were supported by Tughtakin’s men, managed to burn both towers. With the failure of his second effort, he abandoned the attempt and resorted instead to the construction of a fortress to the south of the city, at Scandalion. This fort served to blockade Tyre and curb the raids launched by its citizens.

  Scandalion may have helped fence off Tyre and its inhabitants, but the city continued to pose a naval menace to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. This was a major danger to the Crusader States, whose survival was contingent on the regular arrival of fleets from western Europe bearing both trade goods and people. The Italian cities of Venice, Genoa, and Pisa were the Crusader States’ most prominent allies among Christendom’s maritime powers. They played a vital role in supporting the commercial life of the East, and their warships continually sought to protect the sea-lanes across the eastern Mediterranean.51

  The destruction of Fatimid naval power was a priority because it would ensure the safe passage of ships traveling from southern Europe to the Crusader States. This goal could be achieved in two ways. One was to seek out and destroy Fatimid warships and squadrons while they were at sea. Naval encounters did take place from time to time, with the earliest taking place at the time of the First Crusade, and the Italians scored several notable victories. The other approach was to capture the Fatimids’ naval bases at port cities such as Jaffa, Acre, Tyre, Beirut, and Tripoli. The Fatimids fought using galleys, but these warships required lots of thirsty rowers who consumed a great deal of water (about two gallons, or eight liters, per day).52 If all the ports along the Levantine coast were to fall into Frankish hands, the Fatimids would be unable to rewater their ships north of Ascalon (which was not a port), substantially reducing their cruising range.

  If they could conquer these harbors, the Franks could also prevent the Fatimids from acquiring the timber necessary for shipbuilding. Egypt had no suitable forests of its own and depended on supplies from Lebanon or the mountains of northern Syria. The Fatimids had previously been careful to safeguard the passage of timber to their lands and had inserted specific clauses to this effect in treaties with the Kingdom of Jerusalem.53 The conquest of Tyre, however, would enable the Franks to cut off this supply entirely, as it was the last Fatimid port on this stretch of coastline.

  The Franks finally had a chance to break through Tyre’s formidable defenses in 1124 with the arrival of a major fleet from western Christendom. Since the disaster at the Field of Blood, the Crusader States had been writing to powerful nobles across Europe asking them to send aid to the East. The Venetians had been contacted for help in 1120. Doge Domenico Michiel had responded favorably to this request and had encouraged his fellow Venetians to raise a new force for the defense of the Crusader States. The pope also supported the venture and sent the fleet a papal banner, causing other crusaders to rally to the cause. The Venetians had proven themselves to be enthusiastic crusaders in previous years, and they had dispatched several fleets to the eastern Mediterranean since the time of the First Crusade.

  A large fleet set sail from the city of Saint Mark on August 8, 1122, traveling down the Adriatic and then east toward the Holy Land; it made landfall at Acre in May 1123. The Venetians carried with them perhaps fifteen thousand warriors and also some horses, the first mounts to be transported from western Christendom to the Crusader States by sea.54 This was a substantial army, and it scored an important victory almost immediately. Only a short while before the Venetians’ arrival, the army of Jerusalem had beaten off the Fatimid siege of Jaffa, but the supporting Egyptian fleet of eighty vessels was still at sea. Doge Domenico seized this chance and set out in pursuit. The Venetians had a long-established reputation as skillful mariners, but the doge proved especially adept in the clash that ensued. He advanced south toward Ascalon and attacked at first light. The Egyptians were taken by surprise and were insufficiently prepared to offer concerted resistance. Many of the Venetian vessels managed to ram their opponents amidships, capsizing them, and the doge’s vessel is said to have struck the ship carrying the Fatimid fleet commander. The result was a catastrophic defeat for the Egyptian fleet. The surrounding sea turned red with blood, and shortly afterward the incoming waves began to pile corpses on the shore. The Venetian fleet continued to prowl south, scooping up any Fatimid ships they encountered.

  It was a stunning victory, but it was not the Venetians’ main military achievement. Once the fleet reached the shelter of Acre’s harbor, the doge set out to fulfill his long-standing desire to visit Jerusalem’s sacred sites. He celebrated Christmas in Jerusalem, and soon afterward he attended a council with the nobility of Jerusalem to talk of war and trade. The outcome of these discussions was a bargain struck between the doge and the barons of Jerusalem (led by the patriarch) wherein the Venetians would assist the Kingdom of Jerusalem to conquer Tyre, and in return they would receive a slew of trading and property rights across the territories under Baldwin II’s control, most importantly, one-third of the city of Tyre and its hinterland.

  The siege of Tyre began on February 16, 1124. The city’s fortifications were formidable: on its landward side it was protected by three rows of walls, and on its sea-facing side there were two lines of fortifications. The Christian forces were aware that a relief army from Damascus might be sent to lift the siege, so they built a ditch around the circumference of their encampment. The eastern Franks then set about creating siege machines, including a siege tower and several catapults, while the Venetians built more siege weapons. Then the bombardment began, and the catapults continued without stop throughout the siege. The people of Tyre responded to this barrage with their own catapults, which created a cross fire of falling rocks, temporarily driving the Christians away from their machines. In time, the crusaders steadily gained the upper hand in this missile duel, and the air was filled with dust as Tyre’s outer defenses began to collapse.55

  Both the Damascenes and the Fatimids learned of the siege, and Tughtakin set out to relieve the city. Even Balak in the north is said to have contemplated going to Tyre’s defense. They all knew how much the city’s fall would advance the Frankish cause. The Fatimid forces in Ascalon launched a series of attacks during the siege, including one against Jerusalem itself, seemingly in the hopes of panicking the Frankish leaders and causing them to abandon their assault upon Tyre. But they achieved little more than to kill a few peasants working in the fields outside the city. Jerusalem’s citizens sallied out and drove off the Fatimids, who then withdrew.

  Tughtakin’s forces, meanwhile, attempted to raise the siege, and there were rumors of a new Fatimid fleet on the way. The crusaders responded to these dangers by breaking their army into three sections. The doge set his men to launching their galleys, which had been pulled up on the beach, and they sailed south to patrol for Fatimid naval forces. The remaining Franks divided themselves between those who would maintain the siege and those who would leave the encampment to confront the Damascenes. In the event, their enemies held back. Tughtakin refused battle, and the Venetians discovered no advancing fleet.56

  This news raised the army’s spirits, and their morale received an
other boost when a messenger arrived from Count Joscelin of Edessa. This rider reported that Balak was dead, and he opened a bag and lifted aloft Balak’s severed head as proof. This revelation caused quite a stir, and stories that Joscelin had killed the Turkish commander in single combat began to circulate.57

  By late June, and after many months of bombardment and starvation, the resolve of the people of Tyre weakened, and they began to contemplate a negotiated surrender. Tughtakin brokered the agreement: in return for control of the city, the Frankish leaders agreed not to harm the townsfolk and to permit those who wished to depart to leave with all their movable goods. Many among the rank and file, however, were angered at the thought that they would not be able to loot the city. When the combined Frankish army entered Tyre on June 29, they respected their promise, and many among the Franks had only praise for the stalwart resistance offered by the citizens. When they opened Tyre’s granaries, they found only five measures of wheat, a fact that earned their respect because it showed that the city really had fought to the point of starvation.

  With the conquest of Tyre, the regional balance of power shifted still further. The Kingdom of Jerusalem was looking ever more powerful, far outstripping its Frankish rivals in military force, landholdings, and revenue. The newly won city of Tyre was a major asset. Antioch’s position was less favorable. Its frontiers were battered, but its core territories were largely intact. Nevertheless, it had not grown as the Kingdom of Jerusalem had, and it had known few moments of peace. The Turkish rulers of the adjacent regions had also demonstrated a frustrating ability to unite their forces at the right moment to prevent the principality’s expansion—especially where Aleppo was concerned. This was not a result of good planning or coordination on their part, nor did warriors such as Ridwan, Ilghazi, Tughtakin, Balak, and Aqsunqur necessarily perceive the Franks as a greater threat than their own Turkish rivals. Still, between them, they had managed to keep the Franks out of Aleppo, and the Aleppan populace, who had contemplated voluntarily handing themselves over to Roger of Antioch in 1118, were by 1125 deeply entrenched in their opposition to the Franks.