Читать книгу The History of the Crusades (Vol.1-3) - Joseph François Michaud - Страница 8

The policy of the emperor, however, was not without effect. The pride of a great number of the counts and barons was not proof against his caresses and his presents. There still exists a letter which Stephen of Blois addressed to Adela his wife, in which he felicitates himself on the welcome he had received at the court of Byzantium. After having described all the honours with which he had been received, he exclaims, whilst speaking of Alexis, “Truly, there is not at this time such a man beneath the heavens!” Bohémond could not have been less struck with the liberality of the emperor. At the sight of an apartment filled with riches, “There is here,” said he, “enough to conquer kingdoms with.” Alexis immediately ordered these treasures to be conveyed to the tent of the ambitious Bohémond, who at first refused them with a kind of modesty, and finished by accepting them with joy. He went so far as to demand the title of grand domestic or of general of the empire of the East. Alexis, who had himself held that dignity, and who knew that it was the road to the throne, had the courage to refuse him, and contented himself with promising the office to the future services of the prince of Tarentum.

Thus the promises of the emperor retained for a short period the Latin princes under his laws. By his skilfully-distributed favours and flatteries he created a spirit of jealousy among the leaders of the crusade. Raymond de St. Gilles declared himself against Bohémond, whose projects he revealed to Alexis; and whilst this prince debased himself thus before a foreign monarch, the courtiers of Byzantium repeated with warmth, that he excelled all the other chiefs of the crusade, as the sun excels the stars.

The Franks, so dreaded in the field of battle, were powerless against the skill and address of Alexis, and could not sustain their advantage amidst the intrigues of a dissolute court. An abode at Byzantium might become otherwise dangerous for the Crusaders; the spectacle of the luxury of the East, which they beheld for the first time, was calculated to corrupt them. The Christian knights, according to the report of the historians of the times, were never weary of admiring the palaces, the splendid edifices, the riches, and perhaps the beautiful Greek women, of whom Alexis had spoken in his letters addressed to the princes of the West. Tancred alone, inflexible to all solicitations, would not expose his virtue to the seductions of Byzantium. He deplored the weakness of his companions, and, followed by a small number of knights, hastened to quit Constantinople, without having taken the oath of fidelity to the emperor.

The departure and resistance of Tancred disturbed the joy which the success of his policy had given Alexis. He applauded himself for having softened, by his presents, the principal leaders of the crusade; but he did not so entirely depend upon his means of corruption as to be perfectly free from apprehension. Every day brought new Crusaders, whom he must seduce and load with presents; the very riches he displayed to them might, in the end, awaken their ambition, and inspire them with most fatal designs. He felt by no means secure against their enterprizes until all the armies of the West were on the other side of the Bosphorus. There, without the power of insulting the capital of the empire, they turned all their attention to their preparations for the war against the Saracens.

As the Crusaders advanced across the plains of Bithynia, they saw, seeking refuge in their tents, several soldiers of Peter’s army, who having escaped from the sword of the Saracens, had lived concealed in the mountains and forests. They were clothed in the rags of misery, and with lamentations and tears related the disasters of the first army of the Christians. On the east they pointed to the fortress in which the companions of Rinaldo, pressed by hunger and thirst, had surrendered to the Turks, who had massacred them all. Near to that they showed them the mountains, at the foot of which had perished Walter and his whole army. Everywhere the Crusaders encountered the remains of their brethren; everywhere they found reason to deplore the imprudence and disasters of the first soldiers of the cross; but nothing affected them so deeply as the sight of the camp in which Walter had left the women and the sick, when he was forced by his soldiers to advance to the city of Nicea. There the Christians had been surprised by the Mussulmans, at the moment their priests were celebrating the sacrifice of the mass. Women, children, old men, all whom weakness or sickness detained in the camp, pursued to the foot of their altars, had been either borne away into slavery, or slaughtered by a pitiless enemy. The remembrance of so great a calamity stifled discord, silenced ambition, and rekindled zeal for the deliverance of the holy places. The leaders profited by this terrible lesson, and laid down useful regulations for the maintenance of discipline. The formidable army of the Crusaders advanced in the best order through the country of the infidels, and commenced the war with the first days of the spring.

Although the empire of the Seljoucide Turks, at the period of the arrival of the Crusaders in Asia, already inclined towards its fall, it nevertheless presented a formidable barrier to the warriors of the West. The kingdom of Ezeroum, or Roum, extended from the Orontes and the Euphrates to the neighbourhood of the Bosphorus, and comprised the richest provinces of Asia Minor. The Turks were animated by the double enthusiasm of religion and victory. Abandoning the cares of agriculture and commerce to the Greeks, their slaves, they knew no profession but that of arms, or desired other wealth but the booty obtained from their enemies. Their present chief was the son of Soliman, whose victories over the Christians had procured him the name of the Sacred Champion. David, surnamed Kilidge-Arslan, or the Sword of the Lion, brought up amidst the troubles of civil war, and for a long time detained a prisoner in the fortress of Koraçan by the orders of Malek-Scha, had ascended the throne of his father, and maintained his position by his valour. He possessed a genius rich in resources, and a character not to be subdued by reverses. On the approach of the Crusaders, he summoned his subjects and his allies to his defence. From all the provinces of Asia Minor, and even from Persia, the bravest defenders of Islamism hastened to range themselves beneath his banner.

Not content with assembling an army, he at first gave all his attention to the fortifying of the city of Nice, to which the earliest attempts of the Christians would be directed. This city, the capital of Bithynia, and celebrated by the holding of two councils, was the seat of the empire of Roum; and it was there that the Turks, as in an advanced post, awaited an opportunity to attack Constantinople, and precipitate themselves upon Europe. High mountains defended the approach to it. Towards the west and the south the Lake of Ascanius bathed its ramparts, and preserved to the inhabitants an easy communication with the sea. Large ditches, filled with water, surrounded the place. Three hundred and seventy towers of brick or stone protected the double enclosure of its walls, which were wide enough for the passage of a chariot. The chosen of the Turkish warriors composed its garrison, and the sultan of Roum, ready to defend it, was encamped upon the neighbouring mountains, at the head of an army of a hundred thousand men.

Full of just confidence in their own strength, and ignorant of that which could be opposed to them, the Crusaders advanced towards Nice. Never had the plains of Bithynia presented a more magnificent or a more terrible spectacle. The numbers of the Crusaders exceeded the population of many great cities of the West, and were sufficient to cover the largest plains. The Turks, from their encampments on the summits of the mountains, must have beheld, with terror, an army composed of more than a hundred thousand horse and five hundred thousand foot,[72] the picked men of the warlike nations of Europe, who were come to dispute with them the possession of Asia.[73]

When it had been determined to besiege Nice, the posts were distributed to the various bodies of the Christian army. The camp of the Crusaders extended over a vast plain, intersected by rivulets which fell from the mountains. Fleets from Greece and Italy transported provisions, and kept the besiegers in a state of abundance. Foulcher de Chartres reckons in the camp of the Christians nineteen nations, differing in manners and language. Each nation had its quarters, which they surrounded with walls and palisades, and as they were without wood or stone for the divisions, they employed the bones of the Crusaders lying unburied in the country round Nice; “by which,” Anna Comnena says, “they at once constructed a tomb for the dead and an abode for the living.” In each quarter they quickly raised magnificent tents, which served as churches, in which the chiefs and the soldiers assembled to perform the ceremonies of religion. Different war-cries, drums, the use of which had been introduced into Europe by the Saracens, and sonorous horns, pierced with several holes, summoned the Crusaders to their military exercises.

The barons and knights wore a hauberk, or coat of mail, a sort of tunic, composed of small rings of iron or steel. Over the coat of arms of every squire floated a blue, red, green, or white scarf. Every warrior wore a casque, covered with silver for the princes, of steel for the knights and nobles, and of iron for the common men. The knights bore round or square bucklers, and long shields covered the foot-soldiers. The arms employed in fight by the Crusaders were the lance, the sword, a species of knife, a poniard, called miséricorde, the club, the masse d’armes, with which a warrior could, at a single blow, strike an enemy to the earth; the sling, from which were thrown stones and balls of lead; the bow, and the cross-bow, a murderous weapon, till that time unknown to the Orientals. The warriors of the West did not then cover themselves with that heavy iron armour described by the historians of the middle ages, which they afterwards borrowed from the Saracens.

The princes and knights bore upon their shields figures or signs of different colours, which served as rallying-points for their soldiers. Here might be seen, painted on the bucklers and standards, leopards and lions; there, stars, towers, crosses, Asiatic trees, and European trees. Several caused to be represented on their shields the birds of passage which they had met with on their route, which birds, by changing their climate annually, presented to the Crusaders a symbol of their own pilgrimage. These distinctive marks at the time served to animate their valour in the field of battle, and were destined, at a future day, to be one of the attributes of rank among the nations of the West.

In the immense crowd of Crusaders, no count, no prince, deigned to receive orders from any one.[74] The Christians presented the image of a republic under arms. This republic, in which everything appeared to be in common, recognised no other law but that of honour, no other tie but that of religion. So great was their zeal, that chiefs performed the duties of common men, and the latter required no signal to rush to victory or encounter death. The priests passed continually amongst the ranks, to recall to the Crusaders the maxims of scriptural morality. Their discourses were not thrown away; for, if we may credit contemporary authors, who seldom spare the champions of the cross, the conduct of the Christians during the siege of Nice offered nothing but examples of warlike virtue and subjects of edification.

In the first days of the siege the Christians made several assaults, in which they uselessly displayed prodigies of valour. Kilidge-Arslan, who had placed both his family and his treasures in Nice, animated the garrison by his letters, and resolved to spare no efforts to succour the besieged. He called together the chiefs of his army; he reminded them of the advantages they had gained over the Christians, and predicted still more brilliant trophies to their valour. “The greatest disorder,” he told them, “reigned in the Christian army, and the numbers of their enemies assured them the victory. They were going to fight for their wives, their children, and the country which they owed to the conquests of their fathers; the religion of the prophet implored their help, and the richest booty would be the reward of their exploits.” The Mussulmans, animated by the speeches and the example of their chief, prepared for battle, and descended the mountains. Their army, divided into two bodies, attacked with impetuosity the quarter of Godfrey de Bouillon and that of Raymond de Thoulouse, who had just arrived before Nice. The Provençals were not able to resist the first shock, but they rallied soon at the voices of Raymond and Adhémar. “Then the two armies,” says Matthew of Edessa,[75] who speaks of this battle, “joined, mingled, and attacked each other, with equal fury. Everywhere glittered casques and shields; lances rung against cuirasses; the air resounded with piercing cries; the terrified horses recoiled at the din of arms and the hissing of arrows; the earth trembled beneath the tread of the combatants, and the plain was for a vast space bristling with javelins.” Godfrey, Tancred, and the two Roberts, appeared to be everywhere at once, and carried death and terror into the ranks of the infidels. The Turks could not long withstand the impetuous valour of the Crusaders; they were put to the rout, and pursued by the conquerors even to the mountains which served them as a place of refuge.

The sultan, instead of deploring his defeat, only thought of avenging the disgrace of his arms, and on the very morrow, at break of day, led back his troops to the combat. The Turks attacked the Christians, uttering loud cries. Sometimes they rushed with fury into the ranks of the Crusaders, sometimes they fought at a distance, pouring in showers of arrows. Then they feigned to fly, only to return to the charge with greater fury. This second battle, in which the Turks showed the courage of despair seconded by all the stratagems of war, lasted from morning till night. The victory, which was for a long time doubtful, cost the Christians two thousand lives. The Crusaders made a great many prisoners; four thousand Mussulmans fell on the field of battle; the heads of a thousand were sent to Alexius; and the rest, by the aid of machines, were cast into the city, to inform the garrison of this fresh defeat of the Turks.

Kilidge-Arslan, despairing to save Nice, retired with the wreck of his army, and hastened to gather together in the provinces new forces, with which to oppose the Christians. The Crusaders, having no longer to dread the neighbourhood of an enemy’s army, pushed on the siege with vigour. Sometimes they made approaches by galleries covered by a double roof of boards and hurdles; sometimes they dragged towards the walls towers mounted on a number of wheels, constructed with several stages, and loaded with arms and soldiers. Here the rams beat against the walls with redoubled shocks; at a short distance balistas vomited, without ceasing, beams of wood and showers of arrows; and catapultas cast into the air combustible matters and enormous stones, which fell with a crash into the city.

The Christians employed in this siege all the machines[76] known to the Romans. The Greeks were better acquainted with the construction of them than the Latins, and directed their operations. It is likewise probable that the Greeks who were in Nice, and subject to the power of the Mussulmans, instructed the latter in the means of defending the place.

The Christians allowed the besieged no respite, and they defended themselves with obstinate fury. All the inhabitants of Nice had taken arms. Their ramparts were covered with formidable machines, which hurled destruction among the assailants. Fiery darts, beams, enormous pieces of stone, launched from the height of the walls, destroyed, day after day, the labours of the Crusaders. When the Christians had made a breach in the ramparts, another wall arose from the bosom of the ruins, and presented a new barrier to the besiegers.

As the Crusaders attacked without order or precaution, their imprudence and their rashness were often very fatal to them. Some were crushed beneath the fragments of their own machines; others fell pierced with poisoned darts; sometimes, even, says an historian, the besiegers sported with their efforts, catching them with iron hands,[77] or hooks, which, falling upon them, seized them, and lifted them alive into the city. After having stripped them, the Turks hung them upon their ramparts, and then launched them, by means of their machines, stark naked into the camp of the Christians.

A Saracen,[78] whom history describes to us as a giant, performed during this siege exploits which surpass those related of fabulous antiquity. He was not less remarkable for his skill than for the strength of his arm; he never cast a javelin in vain, and all whom he hit were sure to sink beneath the blow. When he had exhausted his arrows, and could make no more use of his bow, he seized masses of rock, and rolled them down upon the assailants. One day, when he was standing on the platform of a tower attacked by Raymond, he alone defied the efforts of the enemies. At one time he hurled a shower of stones upon the besiegers; then, raising his voice, he defied the bravest of the Christians to the combat, loading them with the most violent abuse. All eyes were turned towards him, and a thousand arrows flew at once from the Christian army to punish his audacity. For a moment all the efforts of the besiegers were directed against a single man. His body was covered with wounds and bristling with arrows; but he defended himself skilfully, and was still braving the crowd of his enemies, when Godfrey, attracted by the noise of this general attack, seized a cross-bow, and taking aim at the redoubtable Saracen, shot him through the heart, and his immense body rolled from the platform into the ditch.

This victory, which appears rather to belong to the heroes of the epopea than to those of history, was celebrated by the acclamations of the Christian army. The Crusaders, who gained several other advantages, redoubled their zeal and their valorous efforts, and the besieged began to offer a less animated resistance. As the Saracens received provisions and reinforcements by the Lake Ascanius, it was resolved to cut off this last resource. A large number of boats, furnished by the Greeks, were transported by land, and launched into the water in the night-time. When day appeared, the lake was covered with barks, each bearing fifty combatants; the flags were displayed, and floated over the waters, and the lake and its shores resounded with the various war-cries and the noise of the trumpets and drums. At this sight the besieged were struck with surprise and terror; and the Christians renewed their attacks with greater success. The soldiers of Raymond had undermined the foundations of one of the principal towers of Nice. This tower sank down in the middle of the night, and its fall was accompanied by so frightful a noise, that both the Christians and the Mussulmans were aroused from their sleep, and believed that an earthquake had taken place. On the following day the wife of the sultan, with two infant children, endeavoured to escape by the lake, and fell into the hands of the Christians. When the news of this reached the city, it greatly increased the general consternation. After a siege of seven weeks, the Mussulmans had lost all hopes of defending Nice, and the Christians were expecting every day to be able to take it by assault, when the policy of Alexius intervened to deprive their arms of the honour of a complete conquest.

This prince, who has been compared to the bird who seeks his food in the tracks of the lion, had advanced as far as Pelecania. He had sent to the army of the Crusaders a weak detachment of Greek troops, and two generals intrusted with his confidence, less for the purpose of fighting than to negotiate, and seize an opportunity to get possession of Nice by stratagem. One of these officers, named Butumitus, having got into the city, created in the inhabitants a dread of the inexorable vengeance of the Latins, and advised them to surrender to the emperor of Constantinople. His propositions were listened to, and when the Crusaders were preparing to begin a last assault, the standards of Alexius all at once appeared upon the ramparts and towers of Nice.

This sight created the most lively surprise in the Christian army. The greater part of the leaders could not restrain their indignation, and the soldiers who were preparing for the assault returned to their tents trembling with rage. Their fury was increased when they found they were prohibited from entering more than ten at a time into a city which they had conquered at the price of their blood, and which contained riches which had been promised to them. In vain the Greeks alleged the treaties made with Alexius, and the services they had rendered the Latins during the siege; the murmurs were never silenced for a moment, except by the largesses of the emperor.

This prince received the greater part of the chiefs at Pelecania, where he duly praised their bravery and loaded them with presents. After having taken possession of Nice, he gained a new victory, perhaps not less flattering to his vanity; he at length triumphed over the pride of Tancred, who took the oath of fidelity and obedience to him. Nevertheless, he did not stifle the suspicions they had conceived of his perfidy. The liberty to which he restored the wife and children of the sultan, and the kind manner in which he treated the Turkish prisoners, gave the Latins good reason to believe that he sought to conciliate the enemies of the Christians. Nothing more was necessary to renew former hatreds, and from this period war was almost declared between the Greeks and the Crusaders.

A year had passed away since the Crusaders had quitted the West. After having reposed some time in the neighbourhood of Nice, they prepared to set forward on their march towards Syria and Palestine. The provinces of Asia Minor which they were about to cross were still occupied by the Turks, who were animated by fanaticism and despair, and who formed less a nation than an army, always ready to fight and to pass from one place to another. In a country so long ravaged by war, the roads were scarcely to be seen, and all communication between cities was stopped. In the mountains, defiles, torrents, precipices, must constantly create impediments to the march of a numerous army; in the plains, mostly uncultivated and barren, famine, the want of water, the burning heat of the climate, were inevitable evils. The Crusaders fancied they had conquered all their enemies at Nice, and without taking any precaution, without any other guides than the Greeks, of whom they had so much reason to complain, they advanced into a country with which they were totally unacquainted. They had no idea of the obstacles they should encounter in their march, and their ignorance created their security.

They had divided their army into two bodies, which marched at some distance the one from the other, across the mountains of Lesser Phrygia. By marching thus separately they could more easily procure provisions; but they ran the risk of being surprised by an active and vigilant enemy. Kilidge-Arslan, twice conquered by the Christians, had gathered together new forces. At the head of an army, which the Latin historians say amounted to two hundred thousand men, he followed the Crusaders, watching for an opportunity to surprise them, and to make them pay dearly for the conquest of Nice.

Whilst the main army, commanded by Godfrey, Raymond, Adhémar, Hugh the Great, and the count of Flanders, was crossing the plain of Dorylæum, the other body, which was commanded by Bohemond, Tancred, and the duke of Normandy, directed its march to the left. It was following the banks of a little river, and was advancing into a valley to which the Latin historians have given the name of Gorgoni or Ozellis.[79] Some intimations had been given by the Greeks that the enemy was nigh, but the Crusaders believed they had nothing to fear. After a day’s march, on the evening of the 30th of June, they arrived at a place which offered them abundant pasturage, and they resolved to encamp. The Christian army passed the night in the most profound security; but on the morrow, at daybreak, the scouts and clouds of dust on the heights announced to them the presence of the enemy. Immediately the camp was roused, and all flew to arms. Bohemond, thus become the leader of the army in the midst of peril, hastened to make the necessary dispositions for receiving the Turks. The camp of the Christians was defended on one side by the river, and on the other by a marsh covered with reeds. The prince of Tarentum caused it to be surrounded with chariots, and with palisades made of the stakes employed in erecting the tents. He next assigned the posts to the infantry, and placed the women, the children, and the sick in the centre of them. The cavalry, divided into three bodies, advanced to the head of the camp, and prepared to dispute the passage of the river. One of these bodies was commanded by Tancred, and William his brother, and another by the duke of Normandy and the count de Chartres. Bohemond, who commanded the centre, placed himself with his horsemen upon a height, whence he might observe everything, and follow the order of the battle.

Scarcely had the prince of Tarentum finished his preparations, when the Saracens, uttering loud cries, descended from the mountains, and, when within bow-shot, discharged a shower of arrows upon the Christians. This did very little harm to the horsemen, who were defended by their shields and their armour, but it wounded a great many of the horses, which threw the ranks into disorder. The archers, the slingers, the crossbow-men, scattered here and there upon the flanks of the Christian army, were not able to return to the Turks all the arrows that were launched at them. The horsemen becoming impatient to make use of the lance and the sword, the most eager of them imprudently crossed the river and fell upon the Saracens. But the latter avoided the mêlée; as fast as the Crusaders presented themselves before them, they opened their ranks, dispersed, rallied at some distance, and darkened the air with a fresh cloud of arrows. The speed of their horses seconded them in these evolutions, and secured them from the pursuit of the Crusaders, whom they fought whilst appearing to fly.

This manner of fighting was quite in favour of the Turks, and rendered the disposition the Christian army made before the battle, entirely useless. Every leader, every horseman, took counsel only of his own courage, and abandoned himself to its dictates. The Christians fought in disorder upon ground with which they were quite unacquainted, and the bravest ran the greatest risks. Robert of Paris, the same who had seated himself on the imperial throne by the side of Alexius, was mortally wounded, after having seen forty of his companions fall around him. William, the brother of Tancred, fell pierced with arrows. Tancred himself, whose lance was broken, and who had no weapon left but his sword, only owed his safety to Bohemond, who came to his succour, and extricated him from the hands of the infidels. Whilst the victory between strength and agility remained uncertain, new troops of Saracens descended from the mountains and joined the fight. The sultan of Nice took advantage of the moment at which the cavalry of the Crusaders could scarcely resist the shock of the Turkish army, to attack their camp. He ordered a body of his choicest soldiers to draw their swords and follow him. He crossed the river, and overcame every obstacle that was placed in his way. In an instant the camp of the Christians was invaded and filled by the Turks. The Saracens massacred all who came within reach of their swords; sparing none but young and beautiful women, whom they destined for their seraglios. If we are to believe Albert of Aix, the daughters and the wives of the barons and knights preferred on this occasion slavery to death; for they were seen, in the midst of the tumult, decking themselves in their most beautiful vestments, and presenting themselves thus before the Saracens, seeking by the display of their charms to soften the hearts of a pitiless enemy.[80] In the meanwhile Bohemond, rendered aware of the attack upon the camp, came promptly to its succour, and forced the sultan to rejoin the body of his army. Then the conflict recommenced on the banks of the river with increased fury. The duke of Normandy, who had remained alone with some of his knights on the field of battle, snatched his white pennon embroidered with gold from the hand of him who bore it, and rushed into the thickest of the fight, crying aloud, “It is the will of God! It is the will of God!” He cut down with his sword all who were in his path; among the victims to his valour being one of the principal Turkish emirs. Tancred, Richard prince of Salerno, Stephen count of Blois, and other chiefs, followed Robert’s example and seconded his valour. Bohemond, who was pursuing the sultan of Nice, met a troop of soldiers who were flying, and stopped them, saying, “Whither are you flying, Christian soldiers? Do you not see that their horses have more speed than ours? Follow me, I will show you a safer road than flight!” Scarcely had he spoken these words, than he rushed with them into the midst of the Saracens, and renewed the fight. In the disorder of the mêlée, the women, who had been liberated from the hands of the Saracens, and who were eager to revenge their outraged modesty, went through the ranks bearing refreshment to the soldiers, and exhorting them to redouble their courage to save them from slavery.

But so many generous efforts were nearly proving useless. The Crusaders were exhausted with fatigue, and could not long resist an enemy whose force was being constantly renewed, and who overwhelmed them with numbers. The Christian army, surrounded on all sides, was compelled to retreat fighting and to retire to the camp, into which the Turks were upon the point of entering with them. It is impossible to paint the confusion and the despair which reigned at that moment among the Crusaders. Priests were seen imploring, by their groans and their prayers, the assistance of the God of armies; women filled the air with lamentations for the dead and the wounded; whilst soldiers fell on their knees to the priests to obtain absolution for their sins. Amid this frightful tumult the voices of the leaders were but little attended to; the most intrepid were covered with wounds, burning with thirst and heat, and could fight no longer. They despaired of seeing Jerusalem, and were in momentary expectation of death, when all at once a thousand voices proclaimed the approach of Raymond and Godfrey, who were advancing with the other division of the Christian army.

Before the commencement of the battle, Bohemond had sent messengers to inform them of the attack of the Turks. On learning this, the duke of Lorraine, the count de Vermandois, and the count of Flanders, at the head of the main body of their army, had directed their march towards the valley of Gorgoni, followed by Raymond and Adhémar, who brought up the baggage, at the head of the rear-guard. When they appeared upon the ridge of the mountains on the eastern side, the sun was in the midst of his course, and his light shone full upon their shields, their helmets, and their naked swords; the ensigns were displayed; the noise of their drums and clarions resounded afar; and fifty thousand horsemen, fully armed and eager for the fight, advanced in good order. This splendid sight revived the hopes of the Crusaders, and cast fear and dread among the infidel ranks.

Scarcely had Godfrey, who, followed by fifty knights, had preceded his army, mixed with the combatants, when the sultan sounded a retreat and retired to the heights, where he hoped the Crusaders would not dare to follow him. The second body of the Christian army soon arrived on the plain smoking with the blood of the Christians. The Crusaders, recognising their brothers and companions stretched in the dust, became impatient to revenge their death, and with loud cries demanded to be led to the fight. Even the combatants who had been fighting from morning, now would not hear of repose. The Christian army immediately formed in order of battle. Bohemond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy, placed themselves on the left; Godfrey, the count of Flanders, and the count of Blois led on the right wing. Raymond commanded the centre, and the rear-guard, or body of reserve, was placed under the orders of Adhémar. Before the leaders gave the word, the priests passed among the ranks, exhorting the Crusaders to fight manfully, and giving them their benedictions. The soldiers and the leaders, drawing their swords, and threatening the enemy, cried with one voice, “It is the will of God! It is the will of God!” and this animating war-cry was repeated by the echoes of the mountains and the valleys. At length the Christian army advanced, marching full of confidence against the Turks, for whom the rocks and the hills appeared to be a sure place of refuge.

The Saracens remained motionless on the mountains, and had apparently exhausted their arrows. The nature of the ground did not allow them to perform their rapid evolutions or pursue their usual tactics. Neither were they animated by the hopes of victory; but, in an attitude which expressed fear, they awaited their enemies in silence. The count of Thoulouse, who attacked them in front, broke through their ranks at the first charge. Tancred, Godfrey, Hugh, and the two Roberts, attacked them on their flanks with the same advantage. Adhémar, who had gone round the mountains, directed his attack upon the rear of the enemies, and completed the disorder. The Saracens found themselves surrounded by a forest of lances, and became only solicitous to secure safety by escaping over the rocks and through the woods. A great number of emirs, three thousand officers, and more than twenty thousand soldiers, lost their lives in the battle and the flight.

The camp of the enemy, which was at two leagues’ distance, fell into the hands of the Crusaders. The conquerors there found abundance of provisions, magnificently ornamented tents, immense treasures, all sorts of beasts of burthen, and above all, a great number of camels. The sight of these animals, which were then unknown in the West, caused them as much surprise as joy. They mounted the horses of the Saracens, to pursue the remains of the conquered army. Towards nightfall they returned to their camp loaded with booty, preceded by their priests, singing hymns and canticles of thanksgiving. Both leaders and soldiers had covered themselves with glory in this great conflict. We have named the principal leaders of the army; historians point out many more, such as Baldwin of Beauvais, Galon de Calmon, Gaston de Béarn, Gerard de Chérisi, all of whom signalized themselves by exploits, says William of Tyre, the remembrance of which will never perish.

The day after the victory the Crusaders repaired to the field of battle for the purpose of burying the dead. They had lost four thousand of their companions, and they paid them the last duties in tears; the clergy offered up their prayers for them, and the army honoured them as martyrs. They soon, however, passed from funeral ceremonies to transports of the wildest joy. On stripping the Saracens, they quarrelled for their blood-stained habits. In the excess of their delight, some of the soldiers would put on the armour of their enemies, and clothing themselves in the flowing robes of the Mussulmans, would seat themselves in the tents of the conquered, and, with imitative gestures, ridicule the luxury and customs of Asia. Such as were without arms took possession of the swords and crooked sabres of the Saracens, and the archers filled their quivers with the arrows which had been shot at them during the fight.

The intoxication of victory, however, did not prevent their doing justice to the bravery of the Turks, who, from that time, boasted of having a common origin with the Franks. Contemporary historians, who praise the valour of the Turks, add, that they only wanted to be Christians to make them quite comparable to the Crusaders. That which, otherwise, proves the high idea the Crusaders entertained of their enemies, is, that they attributed their victory to a miracle. Two days after the battle, says Albert of Aix, although no one was pursuing them, the infidels continued flying, exclaiming as they went, “It is the will of God! It is the will of God!” After the victory, the Christian army invoked the names of St. George and St. Demetrius, who had been seen, as they said, fighting in the ranks of the Christians. This pious fable was accredited among both the Latins and Greeks. A long time subsequent to the victory, the Armenians erected a church in the neighbourhood of Dorylæum, where the people were accustomed to assemble on the first Friday of March, and believed that they saw St. George appear on horseback, lance in hand.

Whilst the Crusaders were felicitating themselves on their victory, the sultan of Nice, who did not dare again to encounter the Christians in the field, undertook to desolate the country which he could not defend. At the head of the wreck of his army, and ten thousand Arabs who had joined him, he preceded the march of the Christians, and laid waste his own provinces. The Turks burnt the harvests, pillaged the cities, the bourgs, and the houses of the Christians, and carried away in their train the wives and children of the Greeks, whom they detained as hostages. The banks of the Meander and the Caïster, Cappadocia, Pisidia, Isauria, and all the country as far as Mount Taurus, were given up to pillage, and entirely laid waste.

When the Crusaders resumed their march, they determined not to separate again, as they had done on entering Phrygia. This resolution certainly rendered them safe from surprise or hostile attack, but it exposed so numerous an army to the risk of perishing by famine and misery in a country devastated by the Turks.[81] The Christians, who marched without forethought, and were never provisioned for more than a few days, were not long before they felt the want of food. They found nothing on their route but deserted fields, and soon had no other subsistence but the roots of wild plants and the ears of corn which had escaped the ravages of the Saracens. By far the greater number of the horses of the army perished for want of water and forage.

Most of the knights, who were accustomed to look with contempt on foot-soldiers, were obliged, like them, to march on foot, and carry their arms, the weight of which was enough to exhaust them. The Christian army presented a strange spectacle—knights were seen mounted on asses and oxen, advancing at the head of their companies; rams, goats, pigs, dogs, every animal they could meet with, was loaded with baggage, which, for the most part, was left abandoned on the roads.[82]

The Crusaders then traversed that part of Phrygia which the ancients called “burning Phrygia.” When their army arrived in the country of Sauria,[83] they endured all the horrors of thirst, of which the most robust soldiers could not resist the terrible power. We read in William of Tyre, that five hundred perished in one day. Historians say that women were seen giving premature birth to their offspring in the midst of burning and open fields; whilst others, in despair, with children they could no longer nourish, implored death with loud cries, and, in the excess of their agony, rolled naked on the earth in the sight of the whole army.[84] The authors of the time do not forget to mention the falcons and birds of prey which the knights had brought with them into Asia, and which almost all perished under the burning sun. In vain the Crusaders called for a repetition of the miracles which God had formerly wrought for his chosen people in the desert. The sterile valleys of Pisidia resounded during several days with their prayers, with their complaints, and perhaps, likewise, with their blasphemies.

In the midst of these burning countries they at length made a discovery which saved the army, but which was very near becoming as fatal to them as the horrors of thirst.

The dogs which had followed the Crusaders had abandoned their masters, and wandered over the plains and into the mountains in search of a spring.[85] One day several of them were seen returning to the camp with their paws and their hides covered with moist sand, and it was judged that they had found water. Several soldiers observed their track, and discovered a river. The whole army rushed towards it in a mass. The Crusaders, famishing with heat and thirst, cast themselves headlong into the water, and quenched the inward heat without moderation or precaution. More than three hundred of them died almost immediately, and many fell seriously ill, and could not continue their march.

At length the Christian army arrived before Antiochetta, which opened its gates to them. This city, the capital of Pisidia, was situated in the midst of a territory interspersed with fields, rivers, and forests. The sight of a smiling and fertile country invited the Christians to repose for a few days, and made them soon forget all the evils they had undergone.

As the fame of their victories and their march had spread throughout the neighbouring countries, the greater part of the cities of Asia Minor, some from fear, and others from affection to the Christians, sent deputies to offer them supplies and to swear obedience to them. Thus they found themselves masters of several countries of whose names or geographical position they were perfectly ignorant. Most of the Crusaders were far from being aware that the provinces they had just subdued had seen the phalanx of Alexander and the armies of Rome, or that the Greeks, the inhabitants of these countries, were descended from the Gauls, who, in the time of the second Brennus, had left Illyria and the shores of the Danube, had crossed the Bosphorus,[86] pillaged the city of Heraclea, and founded a colony on the banks of the Halys. Without troubling themselves with traces of antiquity, the new conquerors ordered the Christian churches to be rebuilt, and scoured the country to collect provisions.

During their abode at Antiochetta, the joy of their conquests was, for a moment, disturbed by the fear of losing two of their most renowned chiefs. Raymond, count of Thoulouse, fell dangerously ill. As his life was despaired of, they had already laid him upon ashes, and the bishop of Orange was repeating the litanies of the dead, when a Saxon count came to announce that Raymond would not die of this disease, and that the prayers of St. Gilles had obtained for him a truce with death. These words, says William of Tyre, restored hope to all the bystanders, and soon Raymond showed himself to the whole army, which celebrated his cure as a miracle.

About the same time, Godfrey, who had one day wandered into a forest, was in great danger from defending a soldier who was attacked by a bear. He conquered the bear, but being wounded in the thigh, and the blood flowing copiously, he was carried in an apparently dying state into the camp of the Crusaders. The loss of a battle would have spread less consternation than the sad spectacle which now presented itself to the eyes of the Christians. All the Crusaders shed tears, and put up prayers for the life of Godfrey. The wound did not prove dangerous, but weakened by the loss of blood, the duke de Bouillon was a length of time before he regained his strength. The count de Thoulouse had likewise a long convalescence, and both were obliged during several weeks to be borne in a litter in the rear of the army.

Greater evils threatened the Crusaders. Hitherto peace had reigned amongst them, and their union constituted their strength. All at once, discord broke out amongst some of the leaders, and was on the point of extending to the whole army. Tancred and Baldwin, the brother of Godfrey, were sent out on a scouring party, either to disperse the scattered bands of Turks, or to protect the Christians, and obtain from them assistance and provisions. They advanced at first into Lycaonia as far as the city of Iconium;[87] but having met with no enemy, and finding the country abandoned, they directed their march towards the sea-coast, through the mountains of Cilicia. Tancred, who marched first, arrived without obstacle under the walls of Tarsus, a celebrated city of antiquity, which takes great pride from having been the birthplace of St. Paul. The Turks who defended the place consented to display the flag of the Christians on their walls, and promised to surrender if they were not speedily relieved. Tancred, whom the inhabitants, for the most part Christians, already considered as their deliverer, was encamping without the walls, when he saw the detachment commanded by Baldwin approach. The leaders and the soldiers congratulated each other on their reunion, and expressed the greater joy from having, reciprocally, taken each other for enemies.

But this harmony was soon troubled by the pretensions of Baldwin. The brother of Godfrey was indignant at seeing the colours of Tancred and Bohemond flying on the walls of Tarsus. He declared that as his troop was the more numerous, the city ought to belong to him. He demanded, at least, that the two parties should enter together into the place, and should share the spoils of the garrison and the inhabitants. Tancred rejected this proposition with scorn, and said that he had not taken arms for the purpose of pillaging Christian cities. At these words Baldwin broke into a rage, and bestowed the grossest abuse upon Tancred, Bohemond, and the whole race of Norman adventurers. After long debates, it was agreed on both sides, that the affair should be decided by the inhabitants, and that the city should belong to whichever they should choose for master. The assembled people at first appeared inclined towards Tancred, to whom they thought they owed their deliverance; but Baldwin made the Turks and the inhabitants sensible of the superiority of his numbers, and threatened them with his anger and his vengeance. The fear which he inspired decided the suffrages in his favour; and the flag of Tancred was cast into the ditches of the town, and replaced by that of Baldwin.[88]

Blood was about to flow to avenge this outrage, but the Italians and Normans, appeased by their chief, listened to the voice of moderation, and quitted the disputed city to seek other conquests elsewhere. Baldwin entered in triumph into the place, of which the fortress and several towers were still in possession of the Turks. He so much feared that his new conquest would be disputed, that he refused to open the gates to three hundred Crusaders whom Bohemond had sent to the assistance of Tancred, and who demanded an asylum for the night. These latter, being obliged to pass the night in the open field, were surprised and massacred by the Turks. The following morning, at the sight of their brethren stretched lifeless, and stripped of their arms and vestments, the Christians could not restrain their indignation. The city of Tarsus resounded with their groans and complaints. The soldiers of Baldwin flew to arms, they threatened the Turks who still remained in the place, and vowed vengeance upon their own leader, whom they accused of the death of their companions. At the first outbreak of this danger Baldwin was obliged to fly, and take refuge in one of the towers. A short time after he appeared surrounded by his own people, mourning with them the death of the Crusaders, and excused himself by saying, that he had bound himself by an oath that none but his own soldiers should enter the town. Thus speaking, he pointed to several towers which were still occupied by the Turks. In the midst of the tumult, some Christian women, whose noses and ears the Turks had cut off, by their presence added to the fury of the soldiers of Baldwin, and they immediately fell upon the Turks who remained in the city, and massacred them all without pity.

In the midst of these scenes of violence, Baldwin received an unexpected reinforcement. A fleet was seen approaching the coast full sail. The soldiers of Baldwin, who expected to have to deal with more infidels, hastened fully armed to the shore. As the fleet drew near, they interrogated the crew of the first ship. The crew replied in the Frank language. Soon they learnt that these, whom they had taken to be Mussulmans, were pirates from the ports of Flanders and Holland. These corsairs had for ten years cruised in the Mediterranean, where they had made themselves remarkable by their exploits, and still more frequently by their piracies. Upon hearing of the expedition of the Christians of the West, they had made sail for Syria and Palestine. On the invitation of the Crusaders, they joyfully entered the port of Tarsus. Their chief, Guymer, who was a Boulonnais, recognised Baldwin, the son of his ancient master, and promised with his companions to serve under him. They all took the cross, and with it the oath to share the glory and the labours of the holy war.

Aided by this new reinforcement, and leaving a strong garrison in the city of Tarsus, Baldwin resumed his march, following the route of Tancred, and soon came in sight of Malmistra,[89] of which the Italians had just taken possession. The latter, on seeing Baldwin, were persuaded that he was come to dispute their new conquest, and prepared to repulse force by force. When Tancred endeavoured to appease his irritated soldiers, murmurs arose against him. They accused him of having forgotten the honour of chivalry, his moderation being in their eyes nothing but a shameful weakness. The effect that such reproaches must have had upon a spirit like that of Tancred, may be easily imagined. The moment they suspected his courage, he no longer made an effort to restrain his anger, and swore to avenge his wrongs in the blood of his rival. He himself led the soldiers, and rushed out of the town at their head to encounter the troops of Baldwin. They at once came to blows. On both sides courage was equal; but the fury of revenge doubled the efforts of the Italians. The soldiers of Baldwin had the advantage in numbers. They fought with the animosity peculiar to civil wars; but at length the troops of Tancred were forced to give way; they left many of their companions in the hands of their adversaries and upon the field of battle, and re-entered the town deploring their defeat in silence.

Night restored calm to their excited spirits. The soldiers of Tancred had acknowledged the superiority of the Flemings, and believed, as blood had flowed, they had no longer any outrage to avenge, whilst the followers of Baldwin remembered that the men whom they had conquered were Christians. On the morrow nothing was heard on either side but the voice of humanity and religion. The two chiefs at the same time sent deputies, and in order to avoid an appearance of asking for peace, both attributed their overtures to the inspiration of Heaven. They swore to forget their quarrels, and embraced in sight of the soldiers, who reproached themselves with the sad effects of their animosity, and longed to expiate the blood of their brothers by new exploits against the Turks.

Tancred with his troop departing from Malmistra, passed in triumph along the coasts of Cilicia, and penetrated as far as Alexandretta, of which he easily took possession. In proportion as he made himself dreaded by his enemies, he made himself the more beloved by his companions. When he rejoined the Christian army covered with glory and loaded with booty, he heard all around him nothing but praises of his moderation and valour. The presence of Baldwin, who had preceded him, on the contrary, only excited murmurs, as they attributed to him the death of so many Christian soldiers. Godfrey loudly blamed the ambition and avarice of his brother. But caring little for these reproaches, Baldwin yielded to his rival, without pain, the suffrages of the army, and preferred a principality to the love and esteem of the Crusaders; and fortune soon offered him an opportunity of realizing his ambitious projects.

During the siege of Nice, an Armenian prince named Pancratius had come to join the Christian army. In his youth he had been king of northern Iberia. Driven from his kingdom by his own subjects, and for a length of time a prisoner at Constantinople, he had followed the Crusaders in the hope of re-conquering his states. He had particularly attached himself to the fortunes of Baldwin, whose aspiring character he understood, and whom he hoped to associate in his designs. He spoke to him continually of the rich provinces which extended along the two shores of the Euphrates. These provinces, he said, were inhabited by a great number of Christians, and the Crusaders had but to present themselves there to make themselves masters of them. These discourses inflamed the ambition of Baldwin, who resolved a second time to quit the main army of the Christians, and to go to the banks of the Euphrates, to conquer a country of such boasted wealth.

He had just lost his wife, Gundechilde, who had accompanied him to the crusade, and who was buried with great pomp by the Christians. This loss did not stop him in the execution of his projects. As he was not beloved in the Christian army, when he was ready to set out no leader was willing to join him, and several even of his own soldiers refused to accompany him. He could only take with him from a thousand to fifteen hundred foot-soldiers, a troop despised in the army, and two hundred horsemen, seduced by the hopes of pillage. But nothing could abate his ardour, and as the chiefs of the crusade had decided in a council that nobody should be allowed to withdraw from the standard of the army, he set out the day before this decision was published in the camp of the Christians.[90] At the head of his little army he advanced into Armenia, finding no enemy able to impede his march. Consternation reigned among the Turks, and the Christians, everywhere eager to throw off the yoke of the Mussulmans, became powerful auxiliaries to the Crusaders.

Turbessel and Ravendel were the first cities that opened their gates to the fortunate conqueror. This conquest soon produced a separation between Baldwin and Pancratius, who both entertained the same projects of ambition; but this difference did not at all delay the march of the brother of Godfrey. The Crusader prince opposed violence to cunning; he threatened to treat his rival as an enemy, and thus drove him away from the theatre of his victories, Baldwin wanted neither guide nor assistance in a country of which the inhabitants all flocked out to meet him. As he pursued his march, fame carried his exploits into the most distant places; the intelligence of his conquests preceded him beyond the Euphrates, and reached even the city of Edessa.

This city, so celebrated in the times of the primitive church, was the metropolis of Mesopotamia. As it had escaped the invasion of the Turks, all the Christians of that neighbourhood had, with their riches, taken refuge within its walls. A Greek prince, named Theodore,[91] deputed by the emperor of Constantinople, was the governor of it, and maintained his power by paying tribute to the Saracens. The approach and the victories of the Crusaders produced the most lively sensations in the city of Edessa. The people and the governor joined in soliciting the aid of Baldwin. The bishop and twelve of the principal inhabitants were deputed to meet the Crusader prince. They described to him the wealth of Mesopotamia, the devotion of their fellow-citizens to the cause of Jesus Christ, and conjured him to rescue a Christian city from the domination of the infidels. Baldwin readily yielded to their prayers, and immediately prepared to cross the Euphrates.

He had the good fortune to escape the Turks, who were waiting for him on his passage, and without drawing a sword he arrived in the territories of Edessa. As he had placed garrisons in the cities which had fallen into his power, he had no greater force with him than one hundred horsemen. As soon as he drew near to the city, the whole population came out to meet him, bearing branches of olive and singing hymns. It must have been a curious spectacle to behold so small a number of warriors, surrounded by an immense multitude, who implored their support and proclaimed them their liberators. They were welcomed with so much enthusiasm, that the prince or governor of Edessa, who was not beloved by the people, took umbrage, and began to see in them enemies more to be dreaded by him than the Saracens. In order to attach their chief to himself, and engage him to support his authority, he offered him great riches. But the ambitious Baldwin, whether because he expected to obtain more from the affections of the people and the fortune of his arms, or that he considered it disgraceful to place himself in the pay of a foreign prince, refused with contempt the offers of the governor of Edessa, and even threatened to retire and abandon the city. The inhabitants, who dreaded his departure, assembled in a tumultuous manner, and implored him with loud cries to remain among them; the governor himself made new efforts to detain the Crusaders, and to interest them in his cause. As Baldwin had made it pretty clearly understood that he would never defend states that were not his own, the prince of Edessa, who was old and childless, determined to adopt him for his son and nominate him his successor. The ceremony of the adoption was performed in the presence of the Crusaders and the inhabitants. According to the custom of the Orientals,[92] the Greek prince made Baldwin pass between his shirt and his naked skin, and kissed him as a sign of alliance and paternity. The aged wife of the governor repeated the same ceremony, and from that time Baldwin, considered as their son and heir, neglected nothing for the defence of a city which was to belong to him.

An Armenian prince, named Constantine, who governed a province in the neighbourhood of Mount Taurus, had also come to the assistance of Edessa. Baldwin, seconded by this useful auxiliary, and followed by his own horsemen and the troops of Theodore, took the field, in order to attack the nearest Turkish cities. He defeated the troops of the emir Baldoukh in several encounters, and forced them to retire into the city of Samosata. The Christians approached the place, pillaged the suburbs, and the houses of the neighbourhood, without meeting with the least resistance; but as they were engaged in dividing their booty, they were attacked unexpectedly by the infidels and routed. After having lost two thousand lighting men, they returned to Edessa, where the news of their defeat spread the greatest consternation.

Misunderstandings soon broke out between Theodore and Baldwin, who mutually reproached each other with their reverses. The Edessenians, who had declared for the Crusader prince, would not hear of any other master, and were not long in satisfying his impatience to reign. They forgot that Theodore, by his courage and skill, had maintained their independence in the centre of a country constantly exposed to the invasions of the Mussulmans. They accused him of having burdened his subjects with imposts, to satisfy the avidity of the Turks, and with having employed the power of infidels to oppress a Christian people. They formed, says Matthew of Edessa, a plot against his life, of which Baldwin was not ignorant. Warned of the danger which threatened him, Theodore retired into the citadel, which commanded the city, and placed no reliance on anything but force to defend himself against the seditious.

Upon this a most furious tumult was created among the people. The enraged multitude flew to arms, and pillaged the houses of the inhabitants who were suspected of being the partisans of Theodore. They swore to treat him as a declared enemy. They attacked the citadel, some beating in the gates, and others scaling the walls. Theodore seeing that his enemies were masters of one part of the ramparts, no longer endeavoured to defend himself, but proposed to capitulate. He agreed to abandon the place, and to renounce the government of Edessa, requesting permission to retire, with his family, to the city of Melitene. This proposition was accepted with joy; the peace was signed, and the inhabitants of Edessa swore upon the cross and the Evangelists to respect the conditions of it.

On the following day, whilst the governor was preparing for his departure, a fresh sedition broke out in the city. The factious repented of having allowed a prince whom they had so cruelly outraged, to live. New accusations were brought against him. It was said that he had only signed the peace with perfidious intentions. The fury of the people soon rose above all bounds, and a thousand voices demanded the death of Theodore. They penetrated, tumultuously, into the citadel, seized the aged governor in the midst of his family, and precipitated him from the heights of the ramparts. His bleeding body was dragged through the streets by the multitude, who prided themselves upon having murdered an old man as much as if they had gained a victory over the infidels.

Baldwin, who may, at least, be accused of not having defended his adoptive father, was soon surrounded by all the people of Edessa, who offered him the government of the city. He refused it at first, “but in the end,” says an old historian, “they combated his objections with so many reasons, that they forced him to consent, and established him instead of the other.” Baldwin was proclaimed liberator and master of Edessa. Seated on a blood-stained throne, and in constant dread of the fickle nature of the people, he soon inspired his subjects with as much fear as his enemies. Whilst the seditious trembled before him, he extended the limits of his territories. He purchased the city of Samosata with the treasures of his predecessor, and obtained possession of several other cities by force of arms. As fortune favoured him in everything, the loss even, which he had lately experienced, of his wife, Gundechilde, promoted his projects of aggrandizement. He espoused the niece of an Armenian prince, and by that new alliance he extended his possessions as far as Mount Taurus. All Mesopotamia, with both shores of the Euphrates, acknowledged his authority, and Asia then beheld a French knight reigning without dispute over the richest provinces of the ancient kingdom of Assyria.

Baldwin thought no more of the deliverance of Jerusalem, but gave all his attention to the defence and aggrandizement of his states.[93] Many knights, dazzled by such a rapid fortune, hastened to Edessa, to increase the army and the court of the new monarch. The advantages which resulted to the Crusaders from the foundation of this new state, have made their historians forget that they were the fruit of injustice and violence. The principality of Edessa served as a check upon the Turks and the Saracens, and was, to the period of the second crusade, the principal bulwark of the power of the Christians in the East.