There remained the allocation of the lands, titles and possessions of the Byzantine Empire itself. Another committee, this time of 12 Venetians and 12 Frenchmen, would dispense the fiefs and offices and decide the levels of service owed to the emperor by particular fief-holders. The crusaders had a chance to divide out a whole political entity here: something akin to the situation faced by William the Conqueror when he took over the kingdom of England in 1066. Although it was William himself, rather than any group of Norman nobles, who made the decisions concerning rewards, he—like the crusaders and the Venetians—had also acquired a wealthy and well-established state. By contrast, 30 years after Duke William’s success, the First Crusaders took almost a decade to take over the complex and heterogeneous political entities that existed in the Levant and this, in turn, led to the creation of four distinct Crusader States.
The French and the Venetians were well aware that the fall of Constantinople was unlikely to signal the automatic submission of the entire Byzantine Empire. The citizens of Constantinople and its environs would probably be hostile to the westerners and, further afield, Alexius III remained at large to act as a possible focus for Greek opposition. The crusaders agreed, therefore, to stay in the area until March 1205 to consolidate their new acquisitions. This meant that the expedition to the Holy Land was, if not quite abandoned, deferred yet again. Everyone recognised that if they conquered Constantinople and left the same summer, then the chances of this new Latin Empire surviving were remote. Any who chose to remain after March 1205 would come under the jurisdiction of the new emperor and had to serve him as required.
Inevitably, and prudently, the Venetians acted to enshrine their commercial dominance within the document. It was agreed that the new emperor would not engage in business with any state at war with the Italians, thereby shutting out hostile economic rivals from this enormously wealthy trading region.
Finally, some attempt was made to regulate the behaviour of the crusaders when they entered the city. Robert of Clari relates that the crusader host was obliged to swear on relics that women should not be sexually assaulted and that they should not be forcibly despoiled of any fine garments. Furthermore, the crusaders were not to lay hands on a monk or a priest, except in self-defence, and they should not break into churches or monasteries.
8
The release of pent-up sexual tensions was a horrifying, if familiar, component of medieval warfare, and similarly the seizure of church vestments was always another easy target for conquering forces. The penalty for breaking these regulations was death. Given the overt antipathy between the Byzantines and the crusaders, some effort to rein in the more predictable excesses of war was a prudent if, as we shall see, largely unsuccessful initiative. Just to remind everyone that the campaign was still being fought under the banner of a holy war, the crusading churchmen included a threat of excommunication to those who broke the terms of the agreement.
By early April the crusaders were poised for battle. The months sitting outside Constantinople had witnessed many changes in their position: first, as invited allies of the man who claimed to be the rightful emperor; then as the people who delivered him to the throne; next as disappointed and deserted outsiders, shunned by their former ally and reviled by his successor; and finally, as a small but determined besieging army with little food and few other choices but to take on the most mighty city in the Christian world.
On the evening of 8 April the fleet was loaded up and made ready to sail at dawn. Horses were embarked onto their special ships and everyone planned to set out at first light. A sense of anticipation gathered intensity. Prior to all medieval battles, particularly crusading conflicts, spiritual preparations were essential, too—prayer and confession being the necessary prerequisites to secure the heavenly rewards of a martyred crusader. The men were granted absolution and received the Body of Christ in the sacrament. The crusaders must have implored divine aid: how else might an army of around only 20,000 men take Constantinople?
All of these men, from the senior nobles to the most humble foot-soldiers, knew that the coming days were the most crucial of the whole campaign. The first siege of Constantinople had seen them take on incredible odds and succeed. By April 1204 the murder of Alexius meant that the crusaders had lost the man who legitimised their presence outside the city and who could give them huge material support. Now they confronted a far more hostile citizenry and their own position was ever more precarious. Alexius had provided foodstuffs for the westerners and, having survived through the winter with his help, they were now reduced to foraging ever further afield. The conquest of Constantinople would release food and money to offer the crusaders their only realistic way forward. They felt morally justified in their actions and, it cannot be denied, they had an impressively strong military record against the Greeks. Even so, the walls of Constantinople now loomed higher than ever before and this time the Byzantines had a cruel and determined ruler at their head.
What would the following day bring? Swift death from an unseen arrow? A slow, excruciating end with limbs crushed and shattered by boulders or a fall from a ladder? A shrieking immolation in burning tar? Or perhaps, with God’s favour, glory and riches. The men who had chosen to lead the assault across the flying bridges were the most vulnerable. Niketas reports the offer of huge rewards to those who would climb aloft and fight from the masts. To these men a desire for fame and fortune must have outweighed the terrible risk they were taking.
9
Throughout the camp, as men talked over their lives, spoke of their loved ones and confided messages to friends to pass on should they not survive, they had to conquer their fears, prepare their weapons and pray for victory.
In the early morning of 9 April the crusader fleet approached the section of walls running from the monastery of Evergetes to the Blachernae palace. With characteristic pride Villehardouin recalled what a splendid sight this made as the alternating warships, galleys and transport ships stretched out over a mile long.
10
Each of the familiar divisions formed up on groups of boats, their banners fluttering in the breeze. Filled with fighting men, laden with catapults, ladders and battering rams, the crusader ships moved up close to the battlements and began the assault.
The walls of the Blachernae palace did not come down to the shore and the crusaders disembarked from their ships and concentrated their attack on the narrow strip of land between the fortifications and the water. Both sides launched a deadly bombardment of rocks and missiles. The first men ashore unloaded the ladders and other fighting equipment under heavy enemy fire. As the crusaders heaved their wooden burden towards the walls, the first arrows thudded into shields and armour. They rarely pierced the chain mail and its protective padding right through to the flesh (or if they did, caused only a light wound), yet the arrows stayed fixed to their prey and the soldiers began to resemble giant porcupines covered with feathered quills. As they started to mount the walls, the two forces meshed together and the exchange of missiles was supplemented by the thrust of lances and the swing of axes and swords. Some of those on the scaling ladders were pushed away from the walls to fall backwards in a deadly, graceful arc; others were prised from their ladders and plummeted to the ground to die or to sustain crippling injuries; still more were killed by sword blows as they climbed. The cries of the injured and dying, of orders bellowed in Greek, Danish, Italian, German and French, the occasional blast from the imperial trumpeters, and the crashing and splintering of missiles exploding into fragments against the city walls comprised a truly hellish cacophony.
The crusaders repeatedly attempted to set up their battering rams at the foot of the walls. The feeling of claustrophobia in one of these machines must have been intense. As they moved up to the walls, defenders gathered above bearing huge vats of boiling oil or fat to pour down onto the attackers. The noise, smell and heat generated as this scorching rain cascaded down upon those inside can barely be conceived—sometimes the ‘cats’ caught fire and the occupants were terribly burned. Screaming, they would run from under the canopies looking for water or open ground to roll on—yet in their search for relief they exposed themselves to the arrows and missiles from the battlements. In addition to fire, the defenders might also drop huge boulders onto their enemies and many of the crusaders’ machines, as well as the men operating them, were crushed. The westerners tried to protect their troops by launching a bombardment of their own. The ships’ catapults concentrated on the defenders above a ‘cat’, while archers and knights with scaling ladders might also turn their attention on the same section of wall.
On this day, however, the Greeks resisted strongly. Murtzuphlus, fore-seeing the attack, had directed his men well and his visible leadership did much to encourage his troops. He set up his own vermilion tents on the hill of the monastery of the Pantepoptes behind the section of walls under fire. Thus he could see over his own fortifications and follow the movements of his enemy—a rare luxury for the medieval general lacking the high-technology surveillance equipment available today. Equally, however, the westerners could watch Murtzuphlus (‘the traitor’, as Robert of Clari called him), and his presence acted as a goad to their efforts.
The Byzantines had prepared carefully for the land assault and had gathered hundreds of huge boulders to use against the crusaders. The destruction wrought by the fires of 1203 had left large piles of debris lying around the city—ideal material for using in this way. The Greeks in the towers pushed and dropped these enormous projectiles onto the crusaders’ siege engines, shattering many of them. So great was the damage that the westerners were forced to abandon their machines and run for safety.
11
But it was the weather conditions that proved the most serious hindrance to the crusaders. Soon after the attack began, the wind started to blow from the shore, which prevented most of the ships from drawing close enough to the walls to launch an assault that would give vital extra impetus to their comrades further along. Only five of Constantinople’s towers were actually engaged and none of these could be secured; by mid-afternoon it was evident to all that the attack had failed. The signal was given to withdraw. A huge cheer went up from the walls of Constantinople —the city had survived its first test in the new struggle. The defenders jeered at their opponents and Robert of Clari reports that many dropped their trousers and displayed their buttocks to the crusaders. Murtzuphlus was keen to capitalise on the moment of victory and ordered his trumpets to sound a triumphal blast. He lavished praise upon his men and chose to view the victory as proof of his own prowess and of his worth as their ruler. ‘See, lords, am I not a good emperor? Never did you have so good an emperor! Have I not done well? We need fear them no longer. I will have them all hanged and dishonoured.’
12
The crusaders were deeply discouraged. Many good men had been killed and much of their equipment had been lost or destroyed; they interpreted the outcome as God’s judgement and felt that their sins had caused them to fail. Baldwin of Flanders was forced to acknowledge that his troops had ‘retreated in shame from our enemies, a portion of whom on that day proved superior in all matters. On that day so it seemed we were fatigued to the point of impotence.’
13
The campaign was in serious trouble. The leadership assembled: they needed to make immediate and substantial progress or else they were doomed. Some argued for a change in approach and advocated pressing the siege in a different area, preferably along the walls facing the Bosphorus where the crusaders could again co-ordinate their land and sea forces. This was quickly rejected when the Venetians pointed out that the current there was far too swift and would carry their ships away.
The senior French nobles, together with Marquis Boniface and the doge, considered their position. They recalled their success along the Golden Horn in 1203 and reasoned that the treacherous winds were the main cause of their present difficulties. They resolved to make another attack against the same section of the city, but first they would pause to repair and modify their ships and wait for better wind and sea conditions.
While these were prudent practical measures, there was also a need to rebuild morale—a task that initially fell to the churchmen. Success would only follow if the main army believed that its work was still divinely endorsed. Many amongst the rank and file had had enough fighting, and so bad were the day’s casualties that large numbers of the lesser men were reluctant to press the siege any longer and wanted to leave. They pleaded to be allowed to sail on to the Holy Land where they might complete their vows and regain God’s approval. As Villehardouin reported: ‘certain people in the company would have been only too pleased if the current had borne them down the straits [and away from Constantinople] ... and they did not care where they went so long as they left that land behind’.
14
The clergy discussed the situation amongst themselves and settled upon the message they wished to spread through the demoralised army. They had to convince the men that the events of 9 April were not God’s judgement on a sinful enterprise: the campaign, they argued, was righteous and with proper belief it would succeed. The concept of God testing the determination of the crusaders through temporary setbacks was a familiar means for the clergy to explain failure in the course of a campaign.
15
Such an interpretation still permitted divine approval for the expedition, but was a way in which God could discern the true resolve of His army. It was announced that sermons would be preached on the morning of Sunday 11 April and each senior churchman accordingly gathered his flock together. The bishops of Soissons and Troyes from northern France, the bishop of Halberstadt from the German Empire, Abbot Simon of Loos from the Low Countries and Master John of Noyen from Flanders all addressed the troops; even the Venetians, who were technically still excommunicate, were included.