The Deeds of God through the Franks

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

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The superb man delivered this speech, and by the power of the blessed
Peter absolved everyone who vowed to go, confirming this with an
apostolic benediction, and establishing a sign of this honorable
promise. He ordered that something like a soldier's belt, or rather
that for those about to fight for the Lord, something bearing the
sign of the Lord's passion, the figure of a Cross, be sewn onto the
tunics and cloaks of those who were going. If anyone, after
accepting this symbol, and after having made the public promise, then
went back on his good intentions, either out of weak regretfulness,
or out of domestic affection, such a person, according to the Pope's
decree, would be considered everywhere an outlaw, unless he came to
his senses and fulfilled the obligation which he had foully laid
aside. He also cursed with a horrible anathema all those who might
dare to harm the wives, sons, and possessions of those who took up
God's journey for all of the next three years.

Finally, he entrusted the leadership of the expedition to the most
praiseworthy of men, the bishop of the city of Puy (whose name, I
regret, I have never discovered or heard). He granted him the power
to teach the Christian people as his representative, wherever they
went, and therefore, in the manner of the apostles, he laid hands
upon him and gave him his blessing as well. How wisely he carried
out his commission the results of this wonderful effort demonstrate.

And so, when the council held at Clermont at the octave of blessed
Martin in the month of November was over, the great news spread
through all parts of France, and whoever heard the news of the
Pontiff's decree urged his neighbors and family to undertake the
proposed "path of God" (for this was it epithet). The courtly
nobility were already burning with desire, and the middle-level
knights were bursting to set out, when lo the poor also were aflame
with desire, without any consideration for the scarcity of their
resources, and without worrying about suitably disposing of their
homes, vineyards, and fields. Instead, each sold his assets at a
price much lower than he would have received if he had been shut up
in a painful prison and needed to pay an immediate ransom. At this
time there was a general famine, with great poverty even among the
very wealthy, since when even though there were enough things, here
and there, for sale for some people, they had nothing or scarcely
anything with which those things could be bought. Masses of poor
people learned to feed often on the roots of wild plants, since they
were compelled by the scarcity of bread to search everywhere for some
possible substitute. The misery that everyone was crying out about
was clearly threatening to the powerful people as they watched, and,
while each man, considering the anguish of the starving mob to be of
little importance, became fastidiously parsimonious, fearing that he
might squander the wealth for which he had worked hard by spending
money too easily. The thirsty hearts of the avaricious, who rejoiced
that the times smiled upon their brutal rates of interest, thought of
the bushels of grain they had stored through the fertile years, and
calculated how much their sale would add to their accumulating
mountains of money. Thus, while some suffer terribly, and others
swiftly go about their business, Christ, "breaking the ships of
Tarshish with a powerful wind,"[94] resounded in everyone's ears, and
he "who freed those who were in adamantine chains" broke[95] the
shackles of those desperate men whose hearts were ensnared by greed.
Although, as I just said, hard times reduced everyone's wealth,
nevertheless, when the hard times provoked everyone to spontaneous
exile, the wealth of many men came out into the open, and what had
seemed expensive when no one was moved, was sold at a cheap price,
now that everyone one was eager for the journey. As many men were
rushing to depart (I shall illustrate the sudden and unexpected drop
in prices with one example of those things that were sold), seven
sheep brought an unheard-of price of five cents. The lack of grain
became surfeit, and each tried to get whatever money he could scrape
together by any means; each seemed to be offering whatever he had,
not at the seller's, but at the buyer's price, lest he be late in
setting out on the path of God. It was a miraculous sight: everyone
bought high and sold low; whatever could be used on the journey was
expensive, since they were in a hurry; they sold cheaply whatever
items of value they had piled up; what neither prison nor torture
could have wrung from them just a short time before they now sold for
a few paltry coins. Nor is it less absurd that many of those who had
no desire to go, who laughed one day at the frantic selling done by
the others, declaring that they were going on a miserable journey,
and would return even more miserable, were suddenly caught up the
next day, and abandoned all their good for a few small coins, and set
out with those at whom they had laughed.

Who can tell of the boys, the old men, who were stirred to go to war?
Who can count the virgins and the weak, trembling old men? Everyone
sang of battle, but did not say that they would fight. Offering
their necks to the sword, they promised martyrdom. "You young men,"
they said, "will draw swords with your hands, but may we be permitted
to earn this by supporting Christ."[96]

Indeed they seemed to have a desire to emulate God, "but not
according to knowledge,"[97] but God, who customarily turns many vain
undertakings to a pious end, prepared salvation for their simple
souls, because of their good intentions. There you would have seen
remarkable, even comical things; poor people, for example, tied their
cattle to two-wheel carts, armed as though they were horses, carrying
their few possessions, together with their small children, in the
wagon. The little children, whenever they came upon a castle or a
city, asked whether this was the Jerusalem to which they were going.

At that time, before people set out on the journey, there was a great
disturbance, with fierce fighting, throughout the entire kingdom of
the Franks. Everywhere people spoke of rampant thievery, highway
robbery; endless fires burned everywhere. Battles broke out for no
discernible reason, except uncontrollable greed. To sum up briefly,
whatever met the eye of greedy men, no matter to whom it belonged,
instantly became their prey. Therefore the change of heart they soon
underwent was remarkable and scarcely believable because of the
heedless state of their souls, as they all begged the bishops and
priests to give the sign prescribed by the above-mentioned Pope, that
is, the crosses. As the force of powerful winds can be restrained by
the gentle rain, so all of the feuds of each against the other were
put to rest by the aspiration imbedded undoubtedly by Christ Himself.

While the leaders, who needed to spend large sums of money for their
great retinues, were preparing like careful administrators, the
common people, poor in resources but copious in number, attached
themselves to a certain Peter the Hermit, and they obeyed him as
though he were the leader, as long as the matter remained within our
own borders. If I am not mistaken, he was born in Amiens, and, it is
said, led a solitary life in the habit of a monk in I do not know
what part of upper Gaul, then moved on, I don't know why, and we saw
him wander through cities and towns, spreading his teaching,
surrounded by so many people, given so many gifts, and acclaimed for
such great piety, that I don't ever remember anyone equally honored.
He was very generous to the poor with the gifts he was given, making
prostitutes morally acceptable for husbands, together with generous
gifts, and, with remarkable authority, restoring peace and treaties
where there had been discord before. Whatever he did or said seemed
like something almost divine. Even the hairs of his mule were torn
out as though they were relics, which we report not as truth, but as
a novelty loved by the common people. Outdoors he wore a woolen
tunic, which reached to his ankles, and above it a hood; he wore a
cloak to cover his upper body, and a bit of his arms, but his feet
were bare. He drank wine and ate fish, but scarcely ever ate bread.
This man, partly because of his reputation, partly because of his
preaching, had assembled a very large army, and decided to set out
through the land of the Hungarians. The restless common people
discovered that this area produced unusually abundant food, and they
went wild with excess in response to the gentleness of the
inhabitants. When they saw the grain that had been piled up for
several years, as is the custom in that land, like towers in the
fields, which we are accustomed to call "metas"[98] in every-day
language, and although supplies of various meats and other foods were
abundant in this land, not content with the natives' decency, in a
kind of remarkable madness, these intruders began to crush them.
While the Hungarians, as Christians to Christians, had generously
offered everything for sale, our men willfully and wantonly ignored
their hospitality and generosity, arbitrarily waging war against them,
assuming that they would not resist, but would remain entirely
peaceful. In an accursed rage they burned the public granaries we
spoke of, raped virgins, dishonored many marriage beds by carrying
off many women, and tore out or burned the beards of their hosts.
None of them now thought of buying what he needed, but instead each
man strove for what he could get by theft and murder, boasting with
amazing impudence that he would easily do the same against the Turks.
On their way they came to a castle that they could not avoid passing
through. It was sited so that the path allowed no divergence to the
right or left. With their usual insolence they moved to besiege it,
but when they had almost captured it, suddenly, for a reason that is
no concern of mine, they were overwhelmed; some died by sword, others
were drowned in the river, others, without any money, in
abject poverty, deeply ashamed, returned to France. And because this
place was called Moisson, and when they returned they said that they
had been as far as Moisson, they were greeted with great laughter
everywhere.[99]

When he was unable to restrain this undisciplined crowd of common
people, who were like prisoners and slaves, Peter, together with a
group of Germans and the dregs of our own people, whose foresight had
enable them to escape, reached the city of Constantinople on the
calends of August (July 30). But a large army of Italians, Ligurians,
Langobards, together with men from parts of countries beyond the
Alps, had preceded him, and had decided to wait for his army and the
armies of the other Frankish leaders, because they did not think that
they had a large enough army to go beyond the province of the Greeks
and attack the Turks. By order of the emperor they had been granted
permission to buy everything they wanted, and to conduct business in
the city, but, on the advice of this prince, they were forbidden to
cross the Arm of Saint George, which was the sea that provided border
with the Turks, because he said that it was sure destruction for so
few men to go up against so many. But they were not held back by the
decency of the people of the province, nor were they mollified by the
emperor's affability, but they behaved very insolently, wrecking
palaces, burning public buildings, tearing the roofs of churches that
were covered with lead, and then offering to sell the lead back to
the Greeks. Disturbed by such foul arrogance, the emperor instructed
them to delay their crossing of the waters of the Arm no longer.
Once they had made the crossing, they continued to behave as they had
on the other side; those who had taken a vow to fight against the
pagans fought against men of our own faith, destroying churches
everywhere, and stealing the possessions of Christians. Since they
were not subject to the severity of a king, who might correct their
errors with judicial strength, nor did they reflect soberly upon
divine law, which might have restrained the instability of their
minds, they fell to sudden death, because death comes to meet the
undisciplined, and the man who cannot control himself does not last
long.

When they finally reached Nicomedia,[100] the Italians, Lombards, and
Germans, unable to bear the pride of the Franks, separated from them.
For the Franks, as their name indicates,[101] were famous for their
great energy, but, in large groups, unless they are restrained by a
firm hand, they are fiercer than they should be. And so the people
from beyond the Alps, having separated, as we just said, from the
Franks, chose as their leader a certain Rainald, and entered the
province which is called Romania.[102] Four days march from
Nicomedia, they came upon a castle which its builder had been pleased
to call Exorogorgum,[103] and which, since it had been abandoned by
its inhabitants, lay open to the troops, who immediately rushed in.
The inhabitants had fled out of fear of the invaders; desperate to
save themselves, they gave no thought to carrying with them their
goods, of which they had a considerable amount. Thus the troops
found an abundance of food there, and they ate their full. When the
Turks discovered that the Christians had occupied the castle, they
laid siege to it with great force. In front of the entrance to the
city was a well, and below it, not far from the city walls, another
well, where their leader Rainald cleverly set an ambush, to keep an
eye on the Turks. Soon the Turks who were being watched advanced
towards the city, and on the day on which the memory of the blessed
Michael was celebrated,[104] the duke and his retainers were attacked,
and many of those who lay in ambush were killed, while others were
forced to return in disgrace within the battlements. The surrounding
Turks attacked so relentlessly that the Crusaders were prevented from
drawing water. They became so thirsty that they drew blood from
their horses and asses, and were compelled to drink the blood. Some,
by dipping their belts and rags into a cistern, and squeezing the
liquid into their mouths, seemed to find some relief. Others,
horrible though it is to say, drank their own urine,[105] while
others dug a hole and placed themselves in the hole they had dug,
covering their parched breasts with the recently dug up earth, in the
belief that they might relieve their burning insides with a bit of
moisture. The bishops and priests who were present, and were
themselves suffering in the same way, seeing that the dangers were
hideous and human help unavailable, offered consolation, continuing
to promise heavenly rewards. For eight days their suffering
continued. While they all seemed to be subject to the same misery,
they did not all hope for God's mercy in the same way; those who had
been the leaders plotted treacherously to save themselves. Rainald,
who lead them in prosperity, secretly and foully concluded a pact
with the Turks, promising to betray to them all the soldiers he
commanded. And so he marched out as though about to battle them, but
while pretending to lead them in this way, he and many of his own men
fled to the Turks, and he remained with them from then on; the others
were captured. Some of the prisoners were challenged about their
faith, and ordered to renounce Christ, but they proclaimed Christ
with steady heart and voice, and were decapitated.

And now Christ will have new honors, like those he had long ago,
ornamenting our age with new martyrs. How fragrant are the laurels
on the brows of those who prepare to offer their throats to the swift
blade! I shall call them happy who endure those few moments: their
firm faith has brought them eternal life. Now the least of us need
despair no longer, having dared what can scarcely be imitated.[106]

The Turks divided up among themselves some of the captives, whose
lives they had spared, or rather reserved for a more painful death,
and submitted them to dismal servitude at the hands of cruel masters.
Some were exposed in public, like targets, and were pierced by
arrows; others were given away as gifts, while others were sold
outright. Those to whom they were given took them back to their own
homes, bringing some of them to the region called Khorasan, and
others to the city of Antioch, where they would endure wretched
slavery under the worst masters imaginable.

They underwent a torture much longer than that endured by those whose
heads were severed swiftly by the sword. A cruel master drives them,
subjecting them to painful labor; everywhere the pious man serves the
ungrateful man. The conscientious worker is flogged; the faithful
man, who performs eagerly and competently, is punished. What he sees,
what he hears, what he does during the day, because he resists doing
evil, becomes foul torture. I have no doubt that their suffering was
more excruciating than three days of torture on the rack.[107]

These were the first martyrs God made in the nearly desperate state
of our modern times.

Meanwhile Peter, about whom we spoke earlier, often troubled by the
folly of his retinue, disturbed by frequent losses, finally gave the
reins of leadership over to well-born man, a powerful warrior from
beyond the Seine, whose name was Walter,[108] in the hope that those
whom he had been unable to control by warnings might at least be
restrained by military authority. Walter hurried, together with his
insane army, to reach Civitot,[109] a city that is said to be located
above Nicaea.[110] When the Turks, who were keeping track of our
movements, found out, they hurried to Civitot, eager to act out their
great ill will. Half-way there, they met up with the above-mentioned
Walter and his group, and they killed him and a great many of his men.
Peter, called the Hermit, unable to restrain the insanity of the
men he had gathered together, was afraid of being caught up in their
undisciplined, improvident folly, and wisely retreated to
Constantinople. The Turks attacked them without warning, and,
finding some of them asleep, and others not only without weapons, but
unclothed as well, immediately killed them all. Among them they
found a certain priest performing mass, and they killed him in the
very act of completing the sacrament; while he was sacrificing to God,
they sacrificed him at the same altar.

What better host can be offered to God than the flesh of him who
becomes a victim for his God. What prayer did he utter from the
depths of his heart when the trumpets of battle sounded? The victors
tore them to pieces, the clangor of arms resounded, and the wretched
band of fugitives howled. The fine priest embraced the altar,
holding the sacred host closely, "Good Jesus," he said,"you are here
as my protection. Since I am holding you, let the hope of flight
disappear. I shall enter into an eternal pact with you. I am killed,
and you, God, shall carry out the sacred things we have begun."[111]

Those who were able to escape fled to the city of Civetot. The
depths of the sea received some, who, unable to escape, preferred to
choose their death rather than have it thrust upon them. Others
sought out the mountains and hid among the rocks, while others hid in
the woods. After they had captured or taken vengeance on those they
found outside, the Turks quickly attacked those who were hiding
inside the castle and they set up a siege, bringing wood to start
fire. They lit fires for those who were being besieged, thinking
that the fire would burn those inside the castle. However, in
accordance with God's judgment, the whole force of the fire fell upon
the Turks, and burned some of them, while none of it reached our men.
They continued to attack, however, and the town was captured. Those
whom they found alive they tied up and then, as had been done to the
others before them, they were sent to the various provinces from
which the enemy had come, to endure perpetual exile. These things
happened in the month of October. When the treacherous Emperor was
informed of the disaster that had befallen the faithful, the wretch
was elated with joy, and ordered that the remaining troops be given
permission to cross the Arm of Saint George, and to retreat to the
nearer parts of Greece. When he saw them return to the territory
over which he had power, he forced them to sell their arms to him.
Such was the end of the group under the command of Peter the Hermit.
We have followed this story without interrupting it so that we might
show that Peter's group in no way helped the others, but in fact
added to the audacity of the Turks. And now we shall return to the
men we have passed over, who followed the same path that Peter did,
but in a far more restrained and fortunate way.

Duke Godfrey, the son of count Eustace of Boulogne, had two brothers:
Baldwin, who ruled Edessa, and succeeded his brother as king of
Jerusalem, and who still rules there; and Eustace, who rules in the
county he inherited from his father. They had a powerful father, who
was competent in worldly affairs, and their mother was, if I am not
mistaken, a learned Lotharingian aristocrat, but most remarkable for
her innate serenity and great devotion to God. The joys she received
from such exemplary sons were due, we believe, to her profound
religious belief. Godfrey, about whom we are now speaking, had
received a duchy in Lotharingia as his maternal heritage. All three,
in no way inferior to their mother in honesty, flourished in great
military deeds, as well as in the restraint of their behavior. The
glorious woman used to say, when she marveled at the result of the
journey and the success of her sons, that she had heard from the
mouth of her son the duke a prediction of the outcome long before the
beginning of the expedition. For he said that he wanted to go to
Jerusalem not as a simple pilgrim, as others had done, but forcefully,
with a large army, if he could raise one. In accordance with this
divinely inspired intuition, fortune later smiled on his project.
The three brothers, heedless of the great honors they already had,
set out on the journey. But even as Godfrey was wiser than his other
brothers, so he was equipped with a larger army. He was joined by
Baldwin, Count of Mons, son of Robert, the paternal uncle of the
young count of Flanders. With the splendid knightly ceremony and
spectacle, the band of powerful young men entered the land of the
Hungarians, in possession of what Peter was unable to obtain: control
over his army. Two days before Christmas, the first of the French
leaders to arrive, they reached the city of Constantinople, but their
lodgings were outside the city. The treacherous emperor, frightened
when he heard that the brilliant duke had arrived, offered formal,
but grudging signs of respect, and offered him permission to dwell in
front of the walls, in a suburb of the city. And so, after accepting
the emperor's offer, the duke and each of his men sent their own
squires to get straw and whatever was necessary for their horses from
wherever they could. While they were thinking that they could go
safely and securely wherever they wished, the foul prince secretly
ordered the men around him to kill, without making any distinctions,
all of the men who were carrying out the duke's instructions,
wherever they found them. When Baldwin, the duke's brother, found
out about this, he set an ambush; when he discovered the
Turcopolitans violently attacking his own men, he forcefully attacked
them, as was right. And with God's favor he won such a victory that
he captured sixty of them; he killed some of them and handed others
over to his brother the duke. When news of this event reached the
impious emperor, he was filled with self-reproach. Made more
cautious by this event, the duke left the suburb of the city where he
had been staying, and set up camp outside of its borders. However,
as evening approached, the emperor, unable to put aside his anger,
hastily collected an army and began hostilities against the duke and
his men. Forcefully accepting the challenge, the duke defeated them
and drove them in flight back into the city, killing seven men.
After this fortunate turn of events, the duke returned to his
encampment, and remained there for five days, while he and the
emperor negotiated a treaty. The frightened emperor asked that the
duke cross the Arm of Saint George, promising in return that he would
order to be brought to them supplies of whatever kinds of food were
to be found in Constantinople and that he would give alms to their
poor. And this was done.

Since we have spoken about the duke and his journey up to this point,
I must return to the leaders of central France; I shall give a brief
sketch of who they were, by what roads they traveled, and what the
outcome of their efforts was. The Bishop of Puy, a man to be admired
for his life, knowledge, teaching, and wisdom in military affairs,
together with a large group of his countrymen, chose to set out
through the land of the Slavs. Earlier I expressed my regret at not
knowing his name, and for being unable to learn it from the history
of which I seem to be the interpreter; finally, however, through
those who knew him on that expedition, and who were familiar with him,
I learned that this precious man's name was Aimarus.

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