The First Crusade (42 page)

The detente with Shaizar soon brought benefits for the crusaders. On the second day travelling through Munqidh territory their hunger

was finally assuaged by the capture of a large herd of cattle. Wealthier Latins were also able to buy fresh horses at the markets of Shaizar and another nearby town, Horns, whose emir had been led to defeat by Kerbogha in the Great Battle of Antioch. A marked improvement in the crusaders' prospects was observed as 'day by day the poor regained health, the knights became stronger, the army seemed to multiply, and the farther we marched the greater were God's benefits'.

These bounties continued when the Latins found the town of Raphania abandoned, its 'gardens full of vegetables and houses full of food'. After the rigours experienced at Marrat, Raymond wisely decided to take this leg of the journey slowly, allowing his army to recover its vitality. In all, they spent ten leisurely days traversing ground that could have been covered in two. Even so, Raymond sought to protect and order his forces during the march, once it became apparent that some of the poorer stragglers were being ambushed by Muslim robbers. Raymond himself took command of the rearguard, while Robert of Normandy, Tancred and Peter of Narbonne held the vanguard.
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Finally, as they neared the south-eastern reaches of the Jabal Ansariyah, the verdant uplands that separate the Orontes river valley from the coast, a definitive choice of route had to be taken. One road to Jerusalem struck inland, heading to the east of Mount Lebanon and then south via Nablus, but this would have taken the crusade past Damascus, one of Syria's most powerful Muslim cities. A council soon decided instead to strike west for the coast and then follow the Mediterranean south into Palestine. This route had one massive advantage: it allowed the crusaders to benefit from naval aid. Reinforcements, food and military supplies could all be received by sea, and rapid channels of communication with the other Franks at Antioch and the Byzantines might be established via the Venetian, Genoese and English fleets now plying the waters of the eastern Mediterranean. For this approach to be fully effective, however, the crusaders would have to occupy ports along the southern Syrian and Palestinian coast to allow ships safe anchorage.
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The road towards the coast took the crusaders through the beautiful fertile valley of al-Bouqia, and here again they spent time gathering supplies. To the south the valley rises into the snow-capped peaks of the Lebanese mountains, but to the north it is overlooked by the foothills of the Jabal Ansariyah, where today still stands perhaps the greatest fortification to be wrought by human hand in any age -
Krak des Chevaliers. Situated on a steep-sided promontory, and thus rendered almost impregnable on three sides, Krak was constructed by the Latin Knights of St John, the Hospitallers, through the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Pouring vast sums of money into the project, employing the finest architects and masons, they created an almost flawless expression of medieval castle technology. Today Krak survives as the most perfectly preserved monument of the crusading age, its vast twin walls enclosing a complex system of defences, with space to billet 2,000 troops. Back in 1099 only a small, relatively rudimentary fortification - Hisn al-Akrad - stood where Krak would later be built. Even so, with their stronghold positioned high above the al-Bouqia valley, its garrison felt protected enough to unleash a series of skirmishing attacks upon the crusaders as they passed on 28 January. Enraged by their audacity, Raymond set off to launc
h a frontal assault on the castl
e. He made little headway and at one point was almost killed when separated from his men, but the sheer ferocity of the Frankish attack terrified the Muslims. On the following morning the crusaders awoke to find the fortress abandoned, as 'only the spoils of war and a ghost castle awaited
us.
With food once again in plentiful supply, they passed a further two weeks in al-Bouqia.

News of this latest Latin success against a fortification that had been considered impregnable sent further shock waves through the local Muslim world. The emir of Horns rushed to confirm his treaty with Raymond, sending gifts of horses and gold. Fakhr al-Mulk ibn-Ammar, the Arab emir of Tripoli, one of the great coastal cities to the south, was similarly impressed. Like the Banu Munqidh of Shaizar, his family had for years clung on to independence from Seljuq Turkish rule and was more than willing to purchase safety from the passing crusader army. The emir duly sent Raymond ten horses, four mules and some gold as gifts to open negotiations for a truce.
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Up to this point, Raymond of Toulouse had enjoyed considerable success. In his first month as nominal leader of the expedition the army had made slow but sustainable progress south. For once, his men were well fed and in good spirits, and Raymond's position and status seemed increasingly secure. But he was actually facing a real crisis. Riding the wave of earlier crusader successes, the count had reached the coast with a relatively small army. Even with the support of Robert of Normandy and Tancred, he commanded, at best, 5,000 combatants. By February 1099, his army had reached the limit of military viability: to march any further south without reconnecting with the other crusading forces would be an extremely risky proposition, inviting death and destruction. In a sense Raymond had taken a gamble when he marched south from Marrat. He had hoped that this move would galvanise the other princes still at Antioch, forcing them to rejoin an expedition that was now under his direction. Raymond's piecemeal progress to the coast had given them plenty of time to catch up. But, as he neared Tripoli, there was still no sign of Godfrey, Bohemond or Robert of Flanders. They had called his bluff.

THE
SIEGE
OF
ARQA

It was against this background that Raymond made perhaps his most ill-fated decision of the entire crusade. Unable to continue the march south in safety, he elected to bide his time in the region around Tripoli, directing his men to besiege the nearby town of Arqa on 14 February 1099. Raymond's motives for pursuing this course of action are far from clear. Strategic necessity cannot have been paramount in his mind, as Arqa presented no obvious threat or obstacle to the crusaders' progress. In reality, a number of interlocking factors probably inspired his decision. The prospect of waiting idly for the arrival of his fellow crusading princes threatened to dent Raymond's prestige and prompt the gradual disintegration of his indolent army. At the same time, his acquisitive eye may already have settled upon Tripoli, either as a potential conquest or simply as a source of revenue. The crusaders' formidable reputation had so cowed local Muslim rulers that they were now prepared to buy peace with hard cash, and an attack on Arqa might force the price up. A Provengal crusader recalled: '[On returning from Tripoli our envoys] persuaded Raymond that its emir would in four or five days give him gold and silver to his heart's content if he laid siege to Arqa, a strongly defended place
.
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The siege of Arqa appeared to offer a perfect opportunity to provide the army with gainful employment, intimidate and exploit Tripoli and, should things go well, perhaps even act as the first stepping-stone towards a full-scale conquest of the region. Unfortunately for Raymond, Arqa proved instead to be a terrible stumbling block. If Raymond began the investment believing the town would soon capitulate he was deeply mistaken. Looking back with dismay upon the siege, one eyewitness gave a grim estimate of Arqa's strength: 'This castle was full of an immense horde of pagans, Turks, Saracens, Arabs and Paulicians, who had made its fortifications exceedingly strong and defended themselves bravely
.
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At first the crusaders seemed to be in control of events. Even before Arqa was encircled, Raymond looked to secure access to the coastline and naval communication by dispatching two of his followers, Raymond Pilet and Raymond, viscount of Turenne, at the head of a small expeditionary force. They came first to the port town of Tortosa, lying one day's hard march to the north of Tripoli, but found it strongly garrisoned. The anonymous author of the
Gesta Francorum,
now travelling with Raymond of Toulouse's contingent, wrote: 'when night fell they withdrew into a corner where they encamped and lit many fires so that it might appear that the whole host was there. The pagans were terrified and fled secretly in the night, leaving the town full of provisions. It also has an excellent harbour.'

On the heels of this wily success, another port further north up the coast, Marqab, quickly decided to offer terms of surrender, erected Raymond of Toulouse's banner and accepted a Latin garrison. These coastal footholds opened up the possibility of naval support to some extent, but there was no port in the immediate vicinity of Arqa, which in any case lay some kilometres inland, to allow a consistent line of communication to be established. Greek and Venetian ships were forced to anchor along the coastline, disgorge their cargoes of
'grain, wine, barley, pork and other marketable goods' and then sail off to the safety of the northern ports.

Once the siege of Arqa had been established, Raymond's troops also led foraging parties into the environs of Tripoli itself. At first the city put up some resistance, but its defensive force was annihilated, causing the stream that runs into Tripoli to run red with Muslim blood. Terrified, the city and many of the surrounding settlements agreed to raise Raymond's banner as a prelude to their seemingly inevitable capitulation.
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On the margins, therefore, the siege of Arqa seemed to be progressing at an acceptable pace. The problem arose at Arqa itself: the town simply refused to fall. Very little precise evidence about the siege survives, but we do know that the Muslim garrison made effective use of defensive projectile weapons. Possessing at least one large catapult, they were able to rain deadly missiles down upon the crusaders. Pons of Balazun, a close friend of Raymond of Aguilers and co-author of the early sections of his chronicle, was killed by one such rock. Anselm of Ribemont, who wrote at least two detailed letters describing his experiences on the expedition, was struck on the head by another and died. It was widely rumoured within the army that Anselm had had a premonition of his impending demise. It was said that on the very morning of his death he awoke,

summoned priests to him, confessed his omissions and sins, invoked God's mercy and told them of the imminence of his death. While they stood shocked by the news, since they saw Anselm hale and hearty, he explained: 'Don't be astonished; listen to me. Last night I saw Lord Engelrand of St Pol, who lost his life at Marrat, and I, fully conscious, enquired, "What goes here? You were dead, and behold now you are alive." Lord Engelrand replied, "Those who die in Christ's service never die."'

Engelrand supposedly went on to assure Anselm that he too would find a place in heaven when he was killed on the morrow. Assured of his salvation, Anselm apparently prepared for his death with good cheer.
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This story may have served to reinforce the conviction among the crusaders that those killed in battle en route to Jerusalem were martyrs destined for heavenly paradise, but it could not cancel out the harsher reality that confronted the Franks at Arqa. The lives of good men were being lost in a siege that seemed to be hopeless.

The crusaders spent three long, frustrating months investing Arqa, with little or no return. In this time other events overtook them. As winter waned, an embassy from al-Afdal, vizier of Fatimid Egypt, arrived. Following Byzantine advice, the crusaders had established contact with the Fatimid Muslims of Egypt back in 1097, and in March 1098 had sent envoys to Cairo to discuss the possibility of mutual co-operation against the Seljuq Turks of Syria and Palestine. Now at last they had returned in the company of Fatimid envoys bearing al-Afdal's response.

In the intervening year much had changed. Capitalising on the disarray within the Seljuq world that followed Kerbogha's defeat at Antioch, the Fatimids had, in August 1098, attacked and overthrown the Turkish rulers of Jerusalem. Suddenly the crusaders' chief goal, the Holy City, had a new master - al-Afdal. Initially, all seemed well. The crusader envoys to the Fatimids were able to visit Jerusalem in peace. But by 1099 al-Afdal was in close correspondence with the Byzantine Emperor Alexius, who revealed that a Graeco-Frankish alliance was in tatters and disclosed what he knew about the diminishing size of the crusader army. From this oasition of relative strength, al-Afdal had become less receptive to the Latins' proposals. They offered to hand over any former Fatimid territories they captured from the Turks and to divide equally any other land obtained with Egyptian aid. In return, the crusaders had one 'simple' request - they wanted Jerusalem. Al-Afdal's response reveals that he was no longer interested in a military alliance with the Franks, but was now simply intent upon formulating a truce that might forestall a crusader invasion of Palestine. It also demonstrates that he had severely underestimated the Latin commitment to the recovery of Jerusalem. His offer - to allow small groups of unarmed crusaders to visit the holy sites of Jerusalem as pilgrims - was flatly refused. All possibility of a negotiated peace evaporated and the lines of confrontation were drawn.
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