Christendom’s leading naval powers were keen to support Baldwin in this endeavor, and the Italian city-states of Venice, Genoa, and Pisa each sent fleets to the eastern Mediterranean, seeking not only to serve God through holy war in defense of Jerusalem but also to pursue their own interests by building up their trading position in the Near East.25 Consequently, in the early years of his reign Baldwin I maintained the momentum built up by the crusade and seized port after port, including Arsuf (1101), Caesarea (1101), Acre (1104), Beirut (1110), and Sidon (1110). He also struck inland into the fertile regions of the Hawran and southward into the Transjordan region, aggressively expanding his borders.
Conquering the Near East’s Mediterranean ports was vital for the Crusader States, but the Franks’ long-term survival could only be truly guaranteed by the destruction of their enemies’ major centers of power: Cairo, Damascus, and Aleppo. The conquest of any one of these territories would almost certainly have paved the way for the imminent collapse of the other two (see here), and the military history of the Crusades in the years following the initial consolidation of the Franks’ position in the East is essentially a tale of their repeated attempts to achieve such a goal.
Cairo (and the surrounding Nile delta) was a powerhouse in the Mediterranean. At this time, it was controlled by the Fatimids, an Arab dynasty that had taken control in 969. Technically the Fatimid state was under the leadership of a caliph, but by the mid-twelfth century effective power lay in the hands of the caliph’s vizier (the leading minister), whose own authority rested squarely on the support of the army. The Fatimids were minority rulers—they were proponents of the Ismaili branch of Shia Islam, but their subjects were for the most part a mixture of Sunni Muslims, Coptic Christians, and Jews. The Fatimid army was large, but its composition was unusual, in that its core contingents were drawn from different ethnic groups, including Armenian archers; Mamluks (Turkish slave soldiers), who operated as cavalry; and infantry from Egypt’s southern borders.26 The Fatimids were also exceptionally wealthy. The fertile lands of the Nile delta produced much of the region’s food, and its bustling ports of Alexandria and Damietta sat astride two long-standing commercial arteries: the gold routes from sub-Saharan Africa and the Silk Roads from the Far East. Possession of Egypt would therefore bring unimaginable wealth to its conqueror, probably sufficient—if combined with the crusaders’ existing lands—to dominate the entire Middle East. The crusaders were well aware of Egypt’s potential, and even before the conquest of Jerusalem the suggestion had been made that the crusaders should seize Egypt first so that its resources could underwrite the conquest of the Holy Land.27
Damascus, lying east of the Anti-Lebanon Mountains, was a large city under Turkish control, with a predominantly Sunni Muslim population and surrounded by dense fruit orchards.28 It was a famous intellectual center, and its walls encompassed many libraries. By the time of the First Crusade, Damascus was still large and powerful, but its glory days were a thing of the past. Its heyday had been under the Umayyad dynasty many centuries earlier, and many of its greatest buildings, such as the Great Mosque, had been constructed at that time. Despite its reduced population and significance within the Islamic world as a whole, Damascus remained one of the linchpins of power in the Near East. If the Franks could take control, they not only would add a major city to their existing lands but would also be able to cut off all communications between Egypt and Aleppo, both of which could then be reduced separately. Again, the Franks fully recognized the importance of conquering Damascus, and they sent envoys demanding its surrender as early as 1100.29
Aleppo was equally vital. Surrounded by high walls punctured by seven gates and with a mighty citadel perched on a high mound at its center, it dominated the political landscape in northern Syria. The scholarly traveler al-Muqaddasi, who passed through the region in the late tenth century, spoke warmly of the inhabitants, presenting them as civilized, wealthy, and talented.30 The city was situated close to the western banks of the Euphrates River, and Aleppo’s ruler controlled many of the river crossings that linked Syria and the Holy Land to the Turks’ core territories in Iraq or more distant Persia. Its fall would consequently impede the lines of communication connecting the Turks’ lands in the coastal Levantine region to their lands in the east. Aleppo was also wealthy. It was a center for trade, and its markets played host to merchants from Anatolia, Egypt, Iraq, and even the distant lands of India and China. The conquest of Aleppo was a vital objective, particularly for its closest Frankish rival, the Principality of Antioch, whose rulers recognized almost immediately that Aleppo was both their greatest local rival and their most pressing military goal.31 Godfrey of Bouillon and another crusade commander, Baldwin of Bourcq, had been discussing the city’s conquest even before the conclusion of the First Crusade.32 Bohemond of Taranto, prince of Antioch, contemplated blockading the city with siege forts—almost certainly preparatory to a direct assault—as early as 1100.33
The crusaders’ long-term strategic objectives—Cairo, Damascus, and Aleppo—were widely understood to be overriding priorities among the leaders of the Crusader States from their earliest days in the Levant. In later years, generation after generation of Frankish rulers showed dogged consistency chasing these goals. If the crusaders were to achieve dominance across the entire region, then these vital cities had to fall. The future of the Crusader States would be decided at their gates.
Initially, all three of these cities were too powerful to risk attacking them frontally. The first crusaders made no attempt on Aleppo and purposely avoided Damascus. Throughout his reign, Baldwin I of Jerusalem occasionally raided Damascene territory, but he launched no assault upon Damascus itself; in the short term he had to concentrate on the ports. Similarly, an invasion of Egypt was simply too great an endeavor to seriously contemplate.
However, as the years passed, and as the crusaders steadily consolidated their position in northern Syria, it became increasingly clear that Aleppo was vulnerable. The city’s relentless infighting and political weakness rendered it susceptible to attack, which soon came to the attention of the Frankish rulers of Antioch. The stage was set for a drawn-out war for control of the city, one that would lead to the Field of Blood.
When Tancred took up the reins of Antiochene power, he did so with an aggression worthy of his ancestors. He was a violent hawk of a man, bred for conquest. His combative nature was molded by a deep faith and a shrewd, opportunistic eye, qualities that would work to his advantage in the years to come. He was also young. Like so many knights of his time, he was to pack a great deal of living into a short life. When he took power in Antioch he was around twenty-five years old, and he did not live to see his fortieth year.
Tancred was from pedigree warrior stock. His grandfather was the great Robert Guiscard, the Norman conqueror whose family had seized control in Sicily and southern Italy only a few decades before.34 Tancred’s uncle, Bohemond, was Robert Guiscard’s son. Raised in the southern Mediterranean, Tancred was well attuned to the various cultures ranged along its shores. His family were long-standing enemies of the Byzantine Empire, but there had been times when they had conducted extensive diplomacy with the imperial court in Constantinople. They were also familiar with the Muslim world; indeed, the Normans’ lands in Sicily had formerly been Islamic territory, and the isle itself had a large Muslim population. Bohemond’s and Tancred’s forces may well have contained many who were fluent in Arabic as well as Greek.35
In the spring of 1101, when Tancred arrived in Antioch, the principality’s future was uncertain. It had many enemies. Like his fellow crusader conquerors to the south, Tancred needed fertile land to supply him with food and revenue, and he needed ports to open up communications and trade with western Christendom. He also faced competing claims for the city, both from the Byzantine emperor—who was enraged that Antioch had not been immediately surrendered to his control—and from the neighboring Turkish ruler, Ridwan of Aleppo, who was a major regional power.
B
efore his captivity, Bohemond had grasped the importance of all these imperatives and had already enjoyed some success in building his position, particularly in battle against the Aleppans.36 Tancred swiftly set to work extending his uncle’s initial gains. His first strike was to the north, into the fertile plains of Cilicia. Cilicia’s main towns, Mamistra, Adana, and Tarsus, fell to Tancred in swift succession. Then he bent his will upon Byzantine-held Latakia, initiating a siege in the summer of 1101 that lasted for one and a half years. The conquest of this great city, resplendent with its ancient aqueducts and fallen Roman statues, clearly stretched Tancred’s meager military resources, but the gamble paid off and, with its fall, Tancred possessed an important harbor.37
By 1102 Tancred’s power was rising so quickly that when his former rival Baldwin I of Jerusalem called for help following a crushing defeat at the hands of the Fatimid Egyptians, he was able to lead an army south to Jerusalem, hundreds of miles from Antioch’s frontiers. So great was his strength that his city suffered no attack during his absence.
The Principality of Antioch had begun to consolidate itself into a more stable form, but although Tancred had substantially expanded its borders, the weaknesses of his personal position as ruler were about to be revealed. He was not Antioch’s prince, merely its custodian. His tenure would end the moment his uncle Bohemond returned from captivity. Tancred was thus rather less than enthusiastic about contributing to his uncle’s ransom. This reluctance was well-known to Bohemond, who (fortunately for him) had other friends who were willing to effect his release, in 1103. He regained power immediately afterward. Bohemond was understandably annoyed by his nephew’s behavior, and soon after his return he stripped Tancred of most of his landholdings and resources.38 Having tasted power, Tancred was once again merely his uncle’s lieutenant.
Despite their troubled relationship, Tancred and his uncle were united by their commitment to expanding the principality, and Bohemond swiftly set about launching attack after attack on his enemies’ frontiers. For the most part these lunges were successful, and by 1104 Bohemond was sufficiently secure in his power to lead his main army, supported by Tancred and the patriarch of Antioch, across the Euphrates in response to a call for assistance from the neighboring County of Edessa.
Edessan power, like Antioch’s, was rising fast. When its first ruler, Baldwin of Boulogne, had set out to claim the throne of Jerusalem, he had handed the reins of governance to his kinsman Baldwin of Bourcq. Like his predecessor, Baldwin of Bourcq proved to be an aggressive campaigner. Only the year before, he had launched a long-distance raid far to the south, attacking the Arab towns of Raqqa and Qalat Jabar.39 Now, however, he was trying something even more ambitious.
The prominent town of Harran lay on Edessa’s southern border and had recently descended into chaos. A rebel named Mohammed al-Isfahani had led a successful uprising against the town’s Turkish master. Then Mohammed himself had been assassinated by his lieutenant Jawuli during a prolonged drinking bout.40 The Franks saw this infighting as too good an opportunity to pass up, and Baldwin of Bourcq assembled Edessa’s army and marched on Harran, placing it under siege while seeking support from Antioch. Tancred and Bohemond responded swiftly, motivated not merely by the prospect of securing a new conquest but also by the news that the neighboring Turkish rulers Sokman and Jokermish had united and were marching both to break the siege of Harran and, more worrisome, to assault Edessa itself. There were the makings here of a major battle.
In the event, Sokman and Jokermish outwitted the Franks. After a brief attack on Edessa, they lured the combined Frankish host away from Harran and into a pursuit that drew them far to the south, away from their own frontiers to a battlefield of the Turks’ choosing. The Christian and Turkish armies were reasonably well matched with about ten thousand troops each when they met near the Balikh River. In the Christian army, Bohemond held the army’s right flank, Tancred was in the center, and Baldwin of Bourcq held the left.41 Their forces were well equipped to deal with Turkish tactics, and they arrayed themselves in a tight, armored formation, their locked shields forming a solid defense against Turkish arrows, rather like a Roman testudo.42 The encounter was fierce, and both sides suffered many casualties. Even so, the Turks were able to split the Christian forces, and eventually Baldwin of Bourcq’s line crumpled, provoking a general Christian retreat.
Part of the Christian army’s problem seems to have been a lack of unity. Their leaders were squabbling among themselves, and Tancred and Baldwin especially disliked one another. This was exacerbated by discontent among their Armenian troops, who were deeply concerned about an event that had taken place during the siege of Harran. A Frankish knight had decided to play a joke on the city’s defenders. He opened a loaf of bread, defecated into it, and placed the bread outside the city gates to see if any of the starving inhabitants would be hungry enough to eat it. The mischief maker probably saw this as just an unpleasant prank; the Armenians saw such defilement of bread as a deeply sinful act.43 From this point, there seems to have been a dispiriting belief among the Armenian troops that the army was already doomed.
The crusader defeat at Harran on May 7, 1104, was a debacle. The surviving forces, far from friendly territory, had a long way to travel before reaching safety. Baldwin of Bourcq, count of Edessa, was captured during the fighting and many more men were lost in the muddy retreat. Heavy rain turned the road into slurry and the Christian forces were forced to jettison their baggage and heavier weapons to escape.
As the bedraggled survivors slunk back over the Edessan frontier, the Franks’ many enemies seized the opportunity to attack both Antioch and Edessa. Antioch’s Cilician lands rebelled, and a Byzantine fleet retook Latakia. The Turks were keen to press their advantage. Sokman plundered the abandoned Christian baggage train, equipping his troops with their weapons and clothing. He then led his disguised forces, marching under Frankish banners, to the Antiochene frontier, where they seized several castles.44
For the Franks, the Battle of Harran and its aftermath painfully underlined a series of vital strategic lessons. The first was that if the crusaders were going to survive, they were going to have to work together. Fulcher of Chartres roundly criticized the defeated Franks for their quarreling, identifying it as the central cause of the disaster.45 Second, the battle had demonstrated the fragility of the Frankish position in Syria. A defeat on this scale could not simply be dismissed as part of the cut and thrust of frontier life. The Franks were a new presence in these lands and their population was sparse. Their Turkish enemies may have been able to whistle up new forces fairly swiftly following a defeat, drawing on the numerous Turkmen tribes that traversed the Jazira region to the east of the Euphrates, but the Franks did not have the same luxury.46 If they lost their army, they would have to make do with their remaining soldiers until new forces could arrive either from Jerusalem or from western Europe. Moreover, they were ruling over a variety of different peoples whose loyalty or acquiescence to Frankish rule was predicated on the Frankish ability either to provide security or, for the more rebellious, to enforce control. There was a real danger that a major defeat could create a domino effect of rebellion and invasion, eventually driving the Franks into the sea.
The Franks survived, but their landholdings shrank dramatically. For Tancred, the Battle of Harran was undoubtedly a humiliation at the strategic level, but at the personal level, it created an opportunity for him to regain power. Baldwin of Bourcq was in prison. Edessa needed a leader. The populace invited Tancred to step in. Bohemond fully supported this suggestion, probably keen to rid himself of his power-hungry nephew. Tancred was to remain the acting ruler of Edessa at least until Baldwin of Bourcq should return from captivity. Soon afterward Bohemond decided that Antioch’s interests would be best served by seeking reinforcements from western Christendom. Consequently, he left Antioch in Tancred’s keeping and set out for the West, where, several years later, he launched an overambitious campaign against the Byzantines, an attempt that e
nded in failure. Bohemond died in Italy in 1111 without ever returning to Syria.47
Bohemond’s later wars against the Greeks may have ended in disaster, but his absence enhanced Tancred’s position in Antioch in two ways. Most important, Tancred was now free to rule Antioch (and temporarily Edessa) as he wished. In addition Bohemond did his nephew the great service of sending him a royal bride.
When Bohemond returned to western Christendom, he was heralded as the great victor of the First Crusade. The adulation provoked by his arrival bordered on the hysterical. He was received into the highest circles, and nobles sought him out to act as godfather to their children. Most important, he was permitted to marry Constance, the daughter of King Philip I of France.48 He also requested that Tancred be granted the hand of Philip’s other daughter, Cecilia. For Cecilia, still only a child, the prospect of being dispatched to a distant frontier to marry a grizzled crusader warlord must have been intimidating. For Tancred—little more than an adventurer and occasional caretaker ruler—this was an astonishing development. Marriage to a royal princess was a substantial honor: it raised his social status, legitimized his position as ruler, and substantially enhanced his position, given that his former dubious credentials had derived predominantly from his military competence.
With both Antioch and Edessa under his control, Tancred was free from all restraint. Even with depleted resources, he swiftly reversed Christian fortunes in northern Syria. In 1105, when Ridwan of Aleppo launched a direct assault on the principality, Tancred decisively crushed his enemies’ forces before reconquering many of the towns lost in the wake of Harran. Tancred went on to push deep into Turk-held territory, posing a genuine threat even to the great city of Aleppo.
The Field of Blood: The Battle for Aleppo and the Remaking of the Medieval Middle East Page 4