The open hostility between the Greeks and the Third Crusade—an unnecessary drain on the westerners’ energies—together with a mutual dislike of Philip of Swabia were strong reasons for the pope to ensure that Alexius III behaved well towards the new crusade. Perhaps he had also recognised that the Byzantine emperor was not going to be bullied into line and, with the crusade poised to set out, Innocent decided to adopt a more emollient tone.
After the pope had rebuffed Prince Alexius, it was the turn of Boniface to have a papal audience. As the leader of the crusade, it was logical that the marquis should meet the spiritual guardian of the Catholic Church. They may well have discussed Alexius’s case, but Innocent would have been swift to dissuade Boniface from showing an interest in any diversion to Constantinople.
In April the marquis turned north towards home, pausing en route to try to establish peace between the warring cities of Pisa and Genoa. His idea was to create greater stability in the West before the crusade set out and to open up the possibility of other sources of naval help for the expedition. Boniface must have arrived back in his homelands in early May 1202; he had been away for around nine months since the first summons to lead the crusade and now, as a matter of urgency, he had to prepare himself for a much longer absence in the East.
Over the winter of 1201 and into the New Year of 1202 whole communities across Europe were gripped by preparations for the expedition. The leaders had set a date of Easter for the northern French armies to assemble and to begin the march south. The crusaders needed to work hard to gather the money and equipment for their journey. Some nobles had access to considerable wealth and could afford to sell assets to raise further revenue. The less well off often had to mortgage lands or rights to raise money. Some of these arrangements were made with other nobles, or with the commercial classes of the growing urban elite, but the vast majority of surviving documents record dealings with religious institutions whose deeply rooted traditions of literacy and record-keeping have resulted in the preservation of thousands of such agreements. Knights and nobles negotiated loans and gifts with local churchmen. Charters enshrined these agreements in writing and were witnessed by clergy, nobles, their families or household members.
Given the Church’s strictures against usury, nothing like the explicit lending of money for interest is found, but contracts that allowed the lender the free use of, or profits from, the land during the owner’s absence seem dangerously close to the spirit—if not the exact letter—of the practice.
Some charters were executed to make good a dispute and for a departing crusader to clear his moral as well as his practical obligations. A contemporary charter from the abbey of Floreffe, in the county of Namur (near Flanders), shows how Thomas, a knight, wanted to repent for his earlier behaviour and to put his soul at peace, as well as to end a long-standing argument:
Because what is not retained in writing slips easily from the memory, I, Wéric, by God’s grace abbot of Floreffe, and the community, make known to those present and future, that Thomas, a knight of Leez, a free man, was struck by the goad of covetousness and took back the eight
bonuaria
of land which he had legitimately bestowed in compensation for the damages often inflicted upon us, and he made accusation against us. Finally, because he was ready to go on crusade and recognised that he was guilty, he completely gave up, renounced and abandoned the aforesaid land and its fruits before many suitable witnesses ... Lest there be a possibility for someone to weaken the contents of this agreement and trouble our church in this matter, to verify its authenticity we append the seal of prudent men to this document, namely, the abbots of Gembloux, Corneux and Leffe.
44
Other charters simply record charitable bequests to assist the donor’s soul, although it is possible that unrecorded gifts were given in exchange. The following extract from a charter shows a knight of the Fourth Crusade making such a donation:
I, Geoffrey of Beaumont make it known to all in the present and the future that, setting out on the road to Jerusalem, with the agreement and wishes of my wife Margaret and my daughters Dionysie, Margaret, Aales and Heloise, I give and I concede to the poor monks of St Josaphat, for the love of God and the salvation of my soul, 5 solidi a year from my income at Beaumont. [It will be given] on the festival of Saint Remigius [13 January] to the hands of those of the brothers who bring forward these present documents. In order that this may be fixed and preserved I strengthen the confirmation of this present charter with my seal. Enacted in the year 1202 in the month of May.
45
For some men, a clause in Pope Innocent’s crusade bull of December 1198,
Graves orientalie terrae,
provided a source of income. The pope had imposed a tax of one-fortieth on the annual income of the Church and decreed that: ‘If the crusaders cannot afford the journey you should make suitable grants to them from this cash, after receiving sufficient assurance from them that they will remain to defend the eastern land for a year or more, according to the amount of the grant:
46
We do not know the sum of money raised by this measure—much may never have been collected at all, or may have failed to reach the intended recipients—but a number of men probably had their crusades financed in this way.
In addition to money, the crusaders needed to gather all the equipment needed for a military expedition several thousand miles from home. Hundreds of horses had to be obtained, from the finest chargers to the heavy pack-animals required to pull cartloads of equipment down to Venice. The forges of northern France pounded out thousands of spare horseshoes, and leather workers laboured over extra saddles and bridles. Arms and armour were manufactured and purchased, shields freshly painted; tradesmen ensured that each noble was fitted out in the finest equipment that he could afford and lords chose splendid cloaks and banners to adorn their contingents.
Some personalised their equipment. During the Third Crusade, Sancho Martin, a Spanish nobleman, wore a green tunic and decorated his helmet with the antlers of a stag. Sancho’s conspicuous display certainly attracted attention because, when he appeared on the battlefield, ‘the Saracens all rushed up, more to see his fine bearing than anything else’.
47
The men themselves trained for war, practising their swordsmanship and fighting skills. The ban on tournaments was restated and this time it was observed in case the contests injured or killed valuable crusader warriors. The army also had to be fed. Some provisions could be carried: smoked pig carcasses were often conveyed in their thousands; dozens of carts arrived, piled high with preserved foodstuffs, sacks of wheat and barrels of wine. Other edibles would have to be bought along the way and this meant that the crusaders had to take cash or valuables with them. To us, accustomed to using credit cards and taking foreign currency overseas, the notion of transporting bulky gold and silver objects abroad as a means of payment seems wildly inconvenient. However, given the sudden huge demand for coins created by thousands of men wanting cash—at a level well beyond anything most institutions could supply—the practicalities of taking thousands of small-denomination coins, and the mechanics of money-changing at the time, there was really no option. Crusaders had to carry with them great ornaments from churches, precious jewels or cloth, or household items such as plates and cutlery, to exchange for food and drink when it was needed.
As the moment of departure grew near, a mixture of excitement and dread must have affected all the crusaders, from the greatest of lords to the lowliest of servants. Similar emotions would have permeated the thoughts of the households and communities they were about to leave. What adventures awaited the crusaders? Fame and wealth? Or suffering, pain and death? Nobles often marked this time with a magnificent feast where they gathered together friends and family. This was also the moment to set any outstanding affairs in order, to resolve any existing disputes and to pray for a safe homecoming. For the clergy, a similar process took place; churchmen had to take leave of their brethren—their ‘family’—and, as clerics, armed only with their prayers and faith, they too must have wondered what God’s judgement would bring them.
Finally, on the day of leaving, everyone had to brace themselves for their farewells: final promises, last words and last embraces. Fulcher of Chartres described the anguish of a crusader parting from his wife:
Then husband told wife the time he expected to return, assuring her that if by God’s grace he survived he would come back home to her. He commended her to the Lord, kissed her lingeringly, and promised her as she wept that he would return. She though, fearing that she would never see him again, could not stand, but swooned to the ground, mourning her loved one whom she was losing in this life as if he were already dead. He, however, like one who had no pity—although he had—and as if he were not moved by the tears of his wife nor the grief of any of his friends—yet secretly moved in his heart—departed with firm resolution.
48
As Robert of Clari wrote: ‘many were there of fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, wives and children, who made great lamenting over their loved ones’.
49
The troubadour knight Conon of Béthune sang of his fears and pain at leaving his wife and, even though this verse has a strongly chivalric aspect, Conon’s true feelings also emerge:
Alas, Love, what a hard parting I
Shall have to make from the best
Lady ever to be loved and served.
May God in his goodness bring me
Back to her as surely as it is true
That I leave her with great pain.
Alas! What have I said? I am not
Leaving her: even if my body goes
To serve our Lord, my heart remains
Entirely at her service.
50
Villehardouin related that ‘many a tear, as you may imagine, was shed for sorrow at parting from their lands, their own people and their friends’.
51
A later crusader captured the pain of the moment exquisitely, balancing feelings of both loss and anxiety: ‘I never once let my eyes turn back ... for fear my heart might be filled with longing at the thought of my lovely castle and the two children that I had left behind.’
52
Many of the northern French crusaders began their journey to Venice in the late spring and early summer of 1202. Villehardouin did not set out until Pentecost (2 June). which made the planned sailing date of 29 June wholly unrealistic and meant that those who arrived in northern Italy on time would have to tolerate a long wait for their colleagues.
53
The crusaders marched along some of the major trade routes of the time. Coincidentally, the Champagne region was at the heart of the European economy and enthusiastic comital patronage had led to the development of a series of four annual international fairs (held at Provins, Troyes, Lagny and Bar-sur-Aube) that together constituted the most important commercial events in the medieval West. These fairs were a meeting place for merchants from England, Flanders, Germany and northern Italy, as well as France itself. The needs of those attending them created an enhanced network of roads for the crusaders to use. For those marching from Flanders, a road ran from Bruges to Reims, to Châlons and from there to the scene of the biggest of the fairs, the city of Troyes. Just south of Troyes they followed a section of the River Seine and then joined the routes to Italy. For the crusaders this journey possessed the advantages of following well-established roads (in winter, still little more than atrociously muddy tracks) with all the associated facilities for buying food and for prayer and rest. By far the easiest way to transport bulky items was by river and the crusaders may have moved some of their equipment in this way, although the majority of the army would have remained on horse, foot or cart, and marched alongside the boats carrying their possessions. Down beyond Châtillon-sur-Seine the road passed through a deeply forested area where merchants were often attacked by robbers, although in the crusaders’ case sheer weight of numbers protected the main contingents. As the Seine became unnavigable, any riverborne equipment was moved back onto land. The road went south across a limestone plateau and then over a series of hills and valleys before reaching Dijon and continuing alongside another arterial river, the Saône, to move deep into Burgundy.
This road passed within 12 miles of the enormous abbey of Cluny, which, together with Citeaux, was one of the most powerful and prestigious religious institutions in medieval Europe. Some northern French knights held lands with priories affiliated to Cluny and they would have taken the opportunity to visit the great mother abbey itself. The church of Cluny was founded in 909, rebuilt in 1088 and finally consecrated in 1130. A magnificent 161 yards in length, it stood as the biggest building in the Christian West for centuries, and in sheer size and splendour was a paradigm for all religious houses. The Cluniacs believed in celebrating the glory of God through lavish decoration and rich, ornate frescos and sculptures. The great choir at Cluny was lit by a web of candelabra and the altar surmounted by a golden pyx studded with precious stones. In contrast to the austere Cistercian abbeys, the Cluniacs flaunted their wealth and were famous for their lengthy liturgical rituals and fine food and wine. As patrons of the abbey and as holy warriors, those who made the detour must have been received with particular good favour and the prayers of the black monks (the colour of their monastic habits) would have followed the crusaders southwards.