The Deeds of God through the Franks

G >> Guibert of Nogent >> The Deeds of God through the Franks

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But count Stephen, with certain bishops of our kingdom, among whom
were Hugh of Soissons, William of Paris, fine, noble men, who were
splendid, accomplished young rulers, and Enguerrand of Laon--would
that he had been as preeminent in his religious belief as he was in
appearance and eloquence--together with many dignitaries of all ranks,
entered the city of Constantinople. The emperor summoned them into
his presence and rewarded their leaders with large gifts. They
consulted with him on whether they should follow the route of the
previous army, or some other, and he truthfully told them that they
did not have enough horsemen to take a route different from that of
the first expedition. However, thinking that they could do new
things and do them better than those who had preceded them, they
declared that they would go on to other regions. They also asked the
emperor to give orders that they might purchase supplies anywhere in
Grecian territory. He agreed, understanding that, in their insolence,
they were in effect bringing about their own ruin, which he foresaw
clearly, as he happily agreed to their error. They went into
Paphligonia, province unknown not only to pilgrims, but scarcely
mentioned in Scripture, where for some unknown reason they were
persuaded to enter the desert. The emperor urged them not to take
more than forty days worth of supplies, and discouraged them from
bringing more by promising that they could purchase supplies freely
anywhere for their entire journey through the land. Therefore,
having marched into these solitary depths, the mob foolishly moved
forward, without supplies, hoping that the opportunity they had been
promised to make purchases would come about, and they began to suffer
from terrible hunger, swelling up and dying, and the army, which was
following behind them, began to be annoyed by the stench of corpses
lying everywhere. At times, when the leaders of the starving
multitude castigated those in the rear for not more swiftly following
the knights in front of them, to avoid sudden attack by the Turks,
these men, driven by the pain of hunger, hoped and prayed that the
Turks would actually come. Now they had almost reached the borders
of Armenia, and the men were exhausted, and the animals dying of
starvation, when thousands of Turks suddenly attacked. But the
Franks, who seemed to be in charge of the front line, in spite of
their weariness, easily drove off the enemy forces. The next day,
when the Turks saw that the Franks had moved out of the front line,
and the Lombards, Ligurians, and Italians had taken their places,
alas, the enemy sensed the sluggishness of those in the front line
and attacked fiercely. Those who were in the vanguard and carried
the standards turned their backs shamefully, and the entire army,
already too weakened by hunger to flee, lay open to hideous slaughter.
Those who fled did not return in the direction whence they had come,
nor did they move in a single group, so that they might at least
form an organized retreat. Instead each turned his steps in whatever
direction appealed to him, clearly going to his death. This pursuit
and bloodshed continued steadily for almost eight days. In the army
there was an archbishop of Milan, who had brought with him the cope,
that is, the chasuble and alb (I don't know if he brought anything
else) of Saint Ambrose. It was adorned with gold and gems so
precious that nowhere on earth could anyone find its equal. The
Turks took it and carried it off, and thus the foolish clerk was
punished for having been insane enough to bring so sacred an object
to barbarian lands. Such a slaughter of Christians of both sexes
took place, so much money, clothing, gold and silver was taken, that
this one victory was enough to recompense the Turks for the losses
inflicted upon them by the first expedition. Of the 200,00--or more,
as some argue--Christians who were there, hardly 7000 remained alive.
Count Stephen, together with several other leaders, including Harpin
of Bourges, a splendid man, and Count Stephen of Beyond-the-Saone,
finally reached Jerusalem. When they arrived, the army of the
emperor of Babylon was at the city of Ramla, fighting Baldwin, who
was now the king. The above-mentioned Harpin urged the king to delay
battle until he could collect as many men as possible. The king said,
"If you are afraid, run back to Bourges." Having spoken, he rushed
unwisely into battle, lost all of his troops, was driven from the
city of Ramla, and escaped alone. Many of his men were captured, and
we still do not know what happened to many of them. Harpin was led
away captive, was finally released, returned to France, and become a
monk. Nothing certain is known about Stephen of Chartres, but he is
believed to have been killed, although we have no evidence.
Presumably he was shut up in a tower within Ramla, together with many
others, but we have not yet been able to determine from the sources
whether he was delivered into captivity or death, although we are
inclined to believe that he died, since he has never been found.
After victory, the Turks customarily decapitated the dead bodies, to
carry them as trophies of victory, and, with the heads removed, it is
difficult to recognize someone from his decapitated body. The same
doubt exists today about the fate of other great men. Meanwhile, the
king himself, who, as we said, was the only one to escape, was
mourned by his people, not only because they were threatened with
death themselves, but because his death had been announced mockingly
by the pagans. He himself, however, making his way through
terrifying mountains known to very few men, two days later, if I am
not mistaken, finally reached Jerusalem, which was expecting great
dangers with justifiable grief. When he had swiftly collected
whatever knights he could, together with the best foot-soldiers, he
prepared to fight against the temporarily triumphant pagans.
Therefore, at the moment that they thought the king was dead, he
suddenly appeared with new troops, and fought with greater authority
than before, driving them into flight, and piling up new carnage with
his sword.

Since we have not described the death of king Godfrey, Baldwin's
brother, because other material took precedence in the narrative, it
is fitting that we briefly tell how his life came to an end, and
where he is buried. They say that a certain neighboring pagan prince
sent him gifts dipped, as became clear, in deadly poisons. He
carelessly made use of them, thinking that he who had sent them was a
friend; he fell ill suddenly, and died very soon afterwards. Some
people, however, reject this opinion, and say that he died natural
death. He was, however, buried in accordance with the eternal
redemption that his faith and life testified he had deserved, next to
the very place of the Lord's Passion, thereby obtaining the monument
which he had liberated, and which he had defended from being trampled
and destroyed by the pagans. His remarkable humility and modesty,
worthy to be imitated by monks, added glory to his already exemplary
reign, for he would never wear the royal crown in the city of
Jerusalem, out of consideration for the fact that the general author
of all men's salvation, our Lord Jesus Christ, provoked human
laughter by wearing a crown of thorns. As we said earlier, he died,
and, believing him to be no less temperate and wise than his brother,
they brought Baldwin from Edessa, and set him up as king of the new
sacred Christian colony. In the brilliant nature of these men they
recognized and loved the peaceful and modest behavior, the relentless
courage, the fearlessness in the face of death, which exceeded what
might be expected of royal majesty, as well as the great self-control,
and an extreme generosity that exceeded their resources. Baldwin's
loyalty towards his people and disregard of himself can be inferred
from one event: in an expedition he was conducting against the
enemies, to save a certain foot-soldier, he put himself in great
peril, received a serious wound, and narrowly escaped death.

Meanwhile, there was something which very much frightened the many
people who surrounded them about attacking our small group, and it
frightens them no less today. The study of the stars, in which
Westerners have only the mildest interest, is known to burn more
brightly, because of its steady use and constant study, among the
Easterners, where it had its origin. The pagans admit that they had
received prophecy, and a long time before the present misfortune they
had predicted that they would be subjugated by the Christian people,
but they were unable, because of their limited skill, to determine at
what time the prophecies would be fulfilled.

Approximately twelve years before our leaders had gone on the journey
to Jerusalem, Robert of Flanders, the elder count, about whom we
spoke in the first book of this work, went to Jerusalem, with much
wealth, to pray. He remained in the city for some days, wishing to
see the holy places, and his generosity enabled him to learn
much--even about what went on among the pagans. One day, as I
learned from those who had accompanied the count, nearly all the
inhabitants of the city assembled at the temple of Solomon; they held
meeting throughout the entire day, and finally returned home in the
evening. The count was then received as a guest by an old, wise man,
who had led a virtuous life by Saracen standards, for which reason
they usually called him, "the Servant of God." When they returned to
his house, he asked him why they had sat so long in the temple, and
what was the nature of the difficult issues they had been disputing.
The man replied, "We have seen unusual signs in the comings and
goings of the stars, from which we have inferred that men of the
Christian belief would come to these regions and would conquer us by
means of steady and frequent victories in battle. Whether this
should happen in a later time or closer to our own time, is
profoundly uncertain. From this astronomical portent, however, it is
very clear that these men, whom celestial judgment has permitted to
conquer our people, and to drive us from our native shores, will, at
later time, be conquered by us, and will be driven by military force
from the lands which they usurped. This celestial sign is in accord
with a thorough and regular reading of the ancient texts of our faith,
which openly state what the celestial brightness has indicated in
veiled manner." The words of this noble man are in harmony with the
words of Kherboga's mother, which were given earlier. Nor do we at
all doubt that for the same reason that she discouraged her son from
fighting against the Christians, those who burned with desire to
destroy Jerusalem restrained themselves, lest they oppose what was
clearly a fatal decree by entering a battle. If at first they seemed
to attack us in many battles, now they fought less eagerly, since
they understood that they were not fighting against us, but against
God, who was exerting himself and fighting for us. However, if it
seems unbelievable to anyone that someone might be able to learn the
future through the art of astrology, this argument seems clear
evidence to us: the emperor Heraclius, through this kind of study,
foresaw that a circumcised race would rise up against the Roman
empire, but he was unable through this method to foresee that it
would not be the Jews, but the Saracens who would do this. Let us
also consider the Magi who, when they discerned by a swift inspection
of a star that a king would be born, and that he would be both God
and man, also knew over whom he would rule, although they could not
have known, by means of the method mentioned, had divine light not
pointed the way.

In this new battle of God against diabolical men, it will be
worthwhile considering the many apparent resemblances between what
happened and what happened to Gideon[249] Although everyone
considered the infinite number of our men sufficient for the
undertaking, they were tested by the waters, that is, pleasures and
delights. That is, those who loved following God did not yield to
the tortures of hunger and thirst, nor to the fear of various forms
of death. But those who placed God after the interest of their
bodies weakly submitted themselves to desires, symbolized by bent
knees. Those who drank by bringing their hands to their mouths are
those who, like Diogenes, heedless of all pleasures, intent on
serving God, satisfied nature in whatever way was available. Three
hundred were proven under Gideon, so that externally and internally
they carried the cross, which, by means of the letter Tau, signifies
the three hundred who were honored for their perseverance. Why did
many of our men depart like wretches from the Lord's army, if not
because they were in the grip of great, steady hunger, and because,
"Without bread and wine, Venus is cold."[250] Because their bodies
were so weak, none of them had the ability to perform sexually, and
even if they wanted to, no opportunity presented itself. Therefore
those who were found to be wise held trumpets in their hands, because
they offered divine speech, the only solace among so many hardships,
in their works. They hold vessels because, continually preparing for
battle, they restrained themselves from all the foulness of carnality.
Within the vessels they hold lamps, because, in the vessels of the
bodies the brilliant treasures of pious intention shine more brightly
than any light. That Gideon divided them into three parts may be
interpreted in the following ways: Christ draws some of them to the
crown when they pour out their own blood; others he brings to guard
the sacred city, to preserve the promised land, and through these few
men today, he resists the entire empire of the East; still others he
permitted to return to their native land as testimony to such a
victory, and to urge others to emulate their own pious exile.
Therefore when the vessels are broken the lamps shine forth, because,
when their bodies died, the spirits burning with divine love
emigrated directly to God. The frightened enemies were defeated,
because they rightly feared those men who, brave with the spirit of
eternity, embraced death more dearly than life. As the Apostle says,
[251] "For the bodies of those beasts whose blood is brought into the
sanctuary by the high priest are burned without the camp." Therefore
God suffered beyond the gate. Thus they went out of the camp to him,
that is, beyond the desires of the flesh, by carrying his shame, the
mortification of the cross, in the midst of sinful desires.

The value of taking up this great task, along with the emotion of
good will can be inferred from considering the one example that we
have offered on this topic, which we think clearly demonstrates how
much those who devoutly undertook the pilgrimage, after confession
and sincere repentance, profitted, if it did such great good for
those who were almost without penitence and confession, and if it
even struck terror into the heart of the devil.

A man of knightly rank, living on the shore of the sea, lost his
brother in the fighting. Hardly able to bear his death, he wore
himself out in inconsolable grief, since the man who had killed him
seemed so strong that the grieving man's hope of vengeance had been
entirely extinguished. Worn out by intolerable grief, his mind
dwelling at every moment and in every place upon his brother, the
pain of his irreparable loss increased each day; without hope of
solace, the poor man was tortured by the inescapable memory, until
the difficulty of obtaining vengeance increased his distress so
greatly that the devil, whose long experience had made him crafty,
shrewder by nature than any mortal, on the lookout everywhere for
occasions and motivations, smiled at the opportunity provided by his
excessive grief. Therefore, on a certain day, worn out by putrifying
internal anguish, gasping with the deepest weariness, he mounted his
horse and brought it to drink at a river, where he saw the devil
standing on the other side. He appeared in the guise of man with
crooked legs, whom he often used to see. He seemed to be a knight,
holding a sparrow-hawk in his hand, wearing his usual orange-yellow
tunic. After watching him from afar, and remembering the weakness
and the look of the man whom he thought he had known, he was struck
by the unexpected change, when the evil spirit, mindful of its
ancient effrontery, spoke first: "I am not who you think I am: know
that I am a Devil, sent to offer a remedy for the torment you undergo
every day. My master, who compassionately deigns to help all those
who suffer, if they submit to him, sent me to you. If you obey him,
just as I say, your relief will not be delayed. For since he is
generous, and possesses an infinite treasure of things to be
distributed to those with a desire for riches, he gives lavish and
incalculable gifts; to those in need he provides assistance beyond
their wildest hopes. Therefore you, who bitterly bewail an old
misfortune that remains ever new, if you have a complaint, share it,
certain in the knowledge that you will receive far more than you
might dare to ask for. In the case of your dead brother, you can
certainly hasten to take vengeance; if you want increased wealth, you
will be amazed to see your wish granted. Therefore ask for what you
want, and your ability will be equal to your wish." He had been
watching this truly unusual creature, stunned that the devil was
speaking, both attracted by the alluring offer and frightened by the
enormity of the one making the offer. However, finally carried away
by his desire for what he was being promissed, he said that he would
gratefully accept the Devil's offerings. "However," the Devil said,
"if the fruits of my offerings appeal to you, and the freely given
benevolence of my prince, who sent me to you, captivates you, when
you have truly experienced the results of what I have said, both
about avenging your brother and adding to your wealth, then my master
requires that you offer him homage, by promising to transfer your
allegiance from the Christian faith to cling indivisibly to him, and
by abstaining from those things that he forbids. There are certain
things that he wishes you to agree never to do: never enter a church,
or accept baptism from a sacred font." He also forbad a third thing,
which escaped the memory of the person who told me about this. The
man replied to him: "I can adhere to these prohibitions easily and
without delay, but I ask for a short delay on the subject of offering
homage." Since he had the free use of his rational faculty, the man
very much abhorred the execrable change of faith that was being
demanded of him, but he thought that it was more tolerable to abstain
from Christian practices than to lose the foundation of his belief.
Finally, without delay, the opportunity for taking vengeance for his
brother, following the suggestions of the Devil, was offered to him,
in such a way that the fondest wishes of the man were far surpassed
by his increasing good fortune. In this way, as the remedy grew more
effective, the bitterness of his grief gradually diminished, but
meanwhile he did not dare violate any of the Devil's prohibitions.
The ancient enemy of mankind continued to appear to him regularly,
not only, as he used to do, when he was alone, or in out of the way
places, but in the midst of a crowd of people he would suddenly make
an unexpected appearance, point out the benefits he had already
received, offer him better ones in the future, and insistently urge
him to transfer his faith to him. The man, however, extremely
grateful for the generosity he had received, promised eternal
obedience to the generosity of the prince, but in the matter of the
homage which was often demanded of him, he continually begged for
delays. Therefore, while he was being pressed insistently by these
appearances, even invisible ones in the midst of large crowds, news
of the journey to Jerusalem spread, by the will of God, throughout
the Latin world. Whoever felt that he was caught in sin was directed
thither, where God showed a new way to repent. Among them this man
chose to set out, although he had not confessed the foul pact he had
already almost entirely concluded with the Devil. Thus this man,
eager to emulate God, although not in keeping with doctrine, in that
he had not confessed his sins before beginning his good works, was
accompanied by such an abundance of the grace of God on the journey,
and his labor was so pleasing to God, even though his efforts were
not performed out of pure piety, that while traveling on this
expedition the grim overseer did not dare to harass him. Moreover,
as though he had no memory of the pact he had made, he never in any
way appeared to him in a vision. After the capture of Jerusalem,
when he was staying in the city with the others, one night, while he
was thought to be asleep, along with the other soldiers, he became
concerned about the horses that belonged to him and to his companions,
who were resting under the sky, as was the custom in that region,
and he went to look at them. Seeing the figure of man standing among
them, and suspecting that he was a thief, he got up and asked, in a
disturbed voice, who he was. In his usual manner, as though pious
and humble, he replied to him: "Don't you know me?" And he, as
though reminded of his old shame, replied with great severity: "I
know you." After this initial exchange, the one offered no further
questions, and the other added nothing to his reply. Although this
apparition seems to have been idle, we know that it is of no idle
significance to us, by God's dispensation; the Devil had not
forgetfully passed him by, but had announced, by his appearance, what
he wanted, and had indicated, by his silence, what he was unable to
ask for. What more should I say? He went home, but on his way home
the Devil never showed himself, or made any trouble. But a short
time after he arrived home, he who provides wretched men with wicked
counsel was aroused, so that the man had very few moments free from
admonishments of this kind; men may put some distance between
themselves and what they fear, and their rooms and walls may separate
them from their anxieties, but neither the presence of other people,
nor the locks on doors can protect them from their spiritual crimes,
no matter where they go. One day, the man who had undergone
excruciating, deadly suffering at the hands of the indivisible thief
happened to meet a priest of Christ, distinguished for his learning,
gentleness, and pious cheerfulness, whose name was Conon. When he
had described, in the little time available (each was concerned with
his journey), how much he had endured, the good man gave him whatever
comfort he was able to give, extracted the promise that he would
return, and sent him on his way. However the cruel beast did not
remain silent, but persistently continued to offer enticements. The
man soon grew weary of the burdensome and almost daily incursions,
and returned to the doctor, made a clean confession, eagerly
undertook penitence, and, once he had begun repentance, never again
saw his tormentor. By this example we can understand how valuable
the pilgrimage must have been for the pure in heart, since it offered
so much defense and support for the impure.

It is also significant that for good reasons kings were excluded from
participating in the grace to be earned from this journey, lest the
visible royalty seem to arrogate to itself divine operations.[252]
Therefore praise should be offered to the heavenly Lord, and utter
silence to the human being. No leader assembled so many soldiers, or
deserved so many triumphs. Regulus deserved praise for beating the
Phoenician rebels. Alexander, battling the Eastern kingdoms, worn
out with great battles, managed to acquire the name of the Great.
However, Count Stephen, who had been granted the leadership of the
holy army, like a man who had recklessly usurped those things that
properly belong to God alone, was rejected as though charged with
cowardice. And Hugh the Great, in effect, a man of royal name, was
put aside. Therefore, when the "shades of a great name"[253] were
rejected, and the power which had supported them was removed, the
little people remained, relying now on God's aid only. And when
things were decided, not according to birth, but according to God's
choice, the unexpected one wore the crown.[254] God, who makes
miracles, did not want the glory of his name given to another, for he
was the sole leader, he was the king, the chastiser, who brought
things from their beginnings to their conclusions, who extended his
kingdoms this far. Therefore he gathered into His, not their arms,
the lambs whom he had made out of wolves, raised them, children
filled with the joy of pious hope, to the protection of his bosom,
and he carried them to what they had longed to see.

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