The Dream and the Tomb (14 page)
“Who have entered Antioch?” the man said.
“Christians,” Stephen replied.
“If they are Christians, why are they in dread of the multitudes of pagans?”
Gradually, as they were talking, Stephen began to see the form of a Cross appearing above Christ's head. It grew brighter until it shone like the sun. Out of this brightness there came a voice urging the Crusaders to turn away from sin and to remember that he was the Lord of Hosts, mighty and powerful in battle, before whom all the pagans would be compelled to bow down. Christ spoke with immense authority. His last words to the priest were, “I shall be compassionate toward you if you do what I command in five days.”
Although Antioch was in Crusader hands, fear of a massive attack was uppermost in men's minds. Panic swept through the city. Some of the knights, including William of Grant-Mesnil, who was Bohemond's brother-in-law, slipped over the walls and made their way to the seacoast. Bohemond and Bishop Adhémar ordered the closing of the gates to prevent wholesale evacuation. A meteor appeared over Antioch, seemed to hover in the night sky, and at last broke up into three separate streaks of light, which all plunged into the Turkish camp. No one knew what it meant, only that it was ominous. Stephen of Valence's vision of Christ, the coming of the meteor, the paralyzing knowledge that Kerbogha was about to attack and that some of the knights and many of the soldiers were attempting to escape from the city, led Raymond of Aguilers and the Count of Toulouse to weigh the evidence. They asked themselves what Christ meant when he said, “I shall be compassionate toward you if you do what I command in five days.” What did he command? In Raymond of Aguilers's mind it meant that they must search for the Holy Lance that lay somewhere below or near the high altar of the Church of St. Peter. Christ was offering them a sign: the Holy Lance, which was almost in their grasp.
On the morning of June 14, five days after Stephen of Valence had seen the vision, Raymond of Aguilers entered the Church of St. Peter, having chosen twelve of his friends to witness the finding of the Lance. The church was closed off: no one was allowed to enter or depart without the chaplain's permission. Raymond was determined that the Lance be found.
The digging went on feverishly all morning; more diggers were brought in; Peter Bartholomew explained where he expected to find it; and by evening there was nothing to show for their labor except a gaping hole below the high altar. Suddenly, when they had almost lost hope, Peter Bartholomew threw off his gown and jumped into the hole wearing only his shirt, and he summoned all those who were present to pray that the Lance would be revealed. They prayed, and Peter Bartholomew saw the point of the Lance sticking out of the earth. Raymond of Aguilers clambered down and kissed the point before the Lance was extricated from the earth. There followed wild rejoicing, the Lance was offered up on the high
altar, hymns were sung, bells were rung, and on the following day the Lance was carried in procession through the city.
Raymond of Aguilers never had the slightest doubt that the true Lance had been found. Had he not seen it even before the earth had loosened its grip on it? He was confirmed in his belief that God spoke in signs and through visions and he was overwhelmed with joy. With this Lance Christ had been killed and with the help of this Lance the Crusaders would destroy the infidels who had taken possession of the Holy Sepulchre.
On the following day Peter Bartholomew had another vision. St. Andrew and Christ both appeared to him, and on the foot of Christ he saw the fresh and bloody wounds left by the nails.
The Holy Lance became the talisman of the Crusaders. Wrapped in rich brocade, and solemnly unwrapped for the benefit of those permitted to kiss it, it was shown on hundreds of occasions to the faithful. It was taken into battle in order to spur on the advance. The Count of Toulouse kept it in his private chapel, for it was the physical evidence of his authority, the demonstrable symbol of God's willingness that he should lead the Crusade. It was both a religious and political weapon, not simply an object to be worshipped and put away. In the name of the Lance, the gift of Christ and St. Andrew, Peter Bartholomew continued to prophesy the course of the war and to recount the messages he received from Christ. The Lance would continue to speak through people long after Peter Bartholomew was dead.
What the Lance said always reflected the position of the Count of Toulouse. It ordered the Crusaders to put away sin, to give alms to the Church, and to have faith in Christ's power to trample the infidels underfoot. Leaf-shaped, of hammered iron, the Lance seemed in the eyes of the Provençals a living presence.
Yet there were many, especially among the Normans, who did not believe in visions. Robert of Normandy's chaplain, Arnulf of Chocques, accepted the vision, then denied it, then accepted it again. Bishop Adhémar, who lived only a few weeks after the lance was found, did not accept the visions that led to it. Peter Bartholomew, driven to fury by the doubters, announced that there was a simple way by which he could prove the truth of his visions. “I not only desire but I beg you to light a fire,” he said, “and I shall submit to the ordeal by fire with the Lance in my hands. If it is truly the Lord's Lance, then I shall emerge unburned, but if it a false Lance I shall be consumed by the fire.”
On April 8, 1099, at a time when the Christian army was on its way to Jerusalem, Peter Bartholomew took the ordeal by fire. It was Good Friday. Peter Bartholomew had fasted during the four previous days. At dawn, dry olive branches were gathered and stacked up until they formed two solid rows a foot apart. The height of the stacks was given as four feet and the length as thirteen feet. At midday a crowd of some sixty thousand persons watched the ordeal. Flames were shooting into the air when Raymond of
Aguilers offered prayers, imploring God either to confirm the visions or deny them. The bishop of Albara gave Peter Bartholomew the Lance wrapped in embroidered cloth, and there was a moment of prayer before Peter Bartholomew, barefoot and wearing only a tunic, entered the small forest of burning olive wood. Since the logs were only four feet high, his head and shoulders could sometimes be seen through the flames. They observed that, when he was about halfway, he paused; afterward he explained that Jesus had come to him in the flames and said, “You shall not cross without wounds, but you shall not see hell.” Jesus had held his hands, and then let go. Thereupon Peter Bartholomew continued his journey.
At last he emerged. He waved to the crowd, held the Lance high above his head, and screamed, “God help us!” It was observed that his tunic was unscorched, and so was the embroidered cloth wrapped around the Lance. The crowd surged around him, hoping to touch him or snatch a piece of the tunic, jostling him so roughly that he was in danger of being physically harmed, and in fact he suffered three or four gashes on his legs and a cracked spine. Later, when he was examined, it was discovered that his wounds were more serious than his burns.
Even now the skeptics were not completely convinced, but there were many who believed that a man could not pass through the flames alive without God's blessing. Less than two weeks later, on April 20, Peter Bartholomew died. Raymond of Aguilers was quite certain he died as a result of the wounds inflicted on him after he had passed through the fire. He was buried in the place where he had suffered his ordeal. The Holy Lance remained in the possession of the Count of Toulouse, and it accompanied him to Jerusalem.
Of all the relics that have been handed down from generation to generationâthe Crown of Thorns, the Nails, the wood of the Holy Cross, the Holy Shroud, all the skulls of the saints to be found in the churches of Rome and the monasteries of Mount Athos, and all the vast assembly of relics dispersed throughout Europe after the sack of Constantinople in
A.D
. 1204âthe Lance remains the only relic of whose discovery we know the exact moment. Whether true or false, for the Crusaders who believed in it, it provided a poignant justification for their march on Jerusalem. It was so small that one could hold it in one's hand, and so large that it filled their imaginations. The Lance was God's promise of victory.
ANTIOCH had fallen to the Crusaders on June 28, 1098, but six months passed before they were able to resume their march on Jerusalem. Those six months were spent in paralyzing quarrels among the princes, while the armies rested and accustomed themselves to life in the East. There were brothels in Antioch, and the soldiers frequented them. There were defense posts to be repaired, supplies and provisions had to be found, an orderly way of life had to be discovered. Bohemond still claimed Antioch as his own, and he quarreled with the Count of Toulouse over the possession of Maarat al-Numan, a recently captured stronghold. The troops, who were well aware of these princely quarrels, took matters in their own hands: they fell on the stronghold and demolished it.
On January 13, 1099, the Count of Toulouse, having decided that the quarrels were depleting his energies and that too much time had been wasted, already set out for Jerusalem, leaving Bohemond behind to enjoy the luxuries of Antioch. The count saw himself destined to be the conqueror of Jerusalem. The march, though slow, was surprisingly easy. The emirs hastened to offer food to the great army, which would otherwise have trampled them to death. Spring came; the flowers were in bloom. As the Crusaders marched along the beautiful coastal road, they were in a frenzy of hope. Near Joppa, the modern Jaffa, the army turned inland, and began the ascent to Jerusalem.
Now Jerusalem lay before them, her yellow walls shining in the hot summer sun, banners flying from her towers. Iftikhar ad-Daula, the governor of the city and the commander of the garrison forces, had placed Jerusalem in a posture of formidable strength. He had adequate armaments and provisions for a long siege and troops who were intensely loyal to him. Moreover, an Egyptian army was on the way. The wells around the city had been poisoned, and he had had all the flocks of sheep and goats on the neighboring hills rounded up and brought into the city. The thousands of Christians living in Jerusalem were expelled and sent into the
Judaean wilderness. The Jews were permitted to remain, perhaps because they possessed stores that could be made available to the defenders. From his spies the governor learned that his own Arab and Nubian troops outnumbered the invaders, who seemed to be ill equipped to invest a city as large and as powerful as Jerusalem. He hoped the Egyptian army would arrive soon. Then the Crusading army would vanish from the face of the earth as though it had never existed.
Iftikhar was a good general, capable of inspiring acts of heroism from his troops. He was also a careful and cautious general, who had made sure that he had ample supplies of water and food. He had ordered that the towers should be filled with bales of cotton and hay to strengthen them against bombardment. He acted coolly at all times and earned the admiration of the Crusaders.
The siege began on the day the Crusaders reached the Mosque of the Prophet Samuel. From this hilltop, traditionally known to pilgrims as Montjoie, the Joyous Mountain, they could see the whole of Jerusalem lying before them. The day was June 7, 1099.
The princes had pored over maps, and considered the reports of their spies; in addition, they knew the lay of the land. Jerusalem was defended on three sidesâthe east, south, and westâby deep ravines; the north wall was easily accessible, and so was Mount Zion in the southwest corner. The Crusaders under Robert of Normandy took up their places facing the north wall, and those under the Count of Toulouse faced Mount Zion. Godfrey of Lorraine's troops covered the northwest angle of the city as far down as the Jaffa Gate, while Robert of Flanders kept watch over the Damascus Gate. Jerusalem was not encircled; it was being besieged on two fronts. Yet, in a very real sense, the encirclement was complete, for all the land around Jerusalem belonged to the invaders and the city was isolated.
The first five days were spent in bringing up the carts laden with the separate pieces of siege engines, and with the search for provisions, and especially for water. Raymond of Aguilers, who accompanied the count's forces at Mount Zion, describes how the men crowded around the Pool of Siloam at the foot of the hill. The fountain gushed every third day. This was one of those inexplicable things that could only be ascribed to the will of God. The soldiers were raging with thirst and when the fountain began to gush they jostled and fought with one another so violently that some fell into it, and so did the horses and cattle brought to the watering place. He continues:
Those who were strong pushed and shoved their way in a deathly fashion through the pool, which was already choked with dead animals and men struggling for their lives, and in this way they reached the rocky mouth of the fountain, while those who were weaker were left behind in the filthy water. These weaker
ones sprawled on the ground beside the pool with gaping mouths, their parched tongues making them speechless, while they stretched out their hands to beg water from the more fortunate ones.