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  * These were the remains of Seleucia Pieria, founded by Seleucis I in 305 BC.

  St Simeon, Syria, 19 March 1148

  On a calm day after long weeks of unseasonable storms, a tattered flotilla of ships limped out of the west towards the coast of Syria.

  To the south loomed the Bald Mountain. To the north were heaped the monumental ruins of a long-forgotten ancient city and its port.* Dead ahead rose St Simeon’s Mount, where the younger of the stylite hermit saints lived on his pillar for almost seventy years. And in its shadow, by the mysterious white rock of St George, lay the harbour of St Simeon, port of Antioch, the greatest city of the crusader states.

  The leaking ships carried King Louis and his nobles on the final leg of a gruelling nine-month odyssey. The voyage from Atalya, a Byzantine town in southern Anatolia, should have taken just three days, but the weather had tormented the crusaders with mountainous seas and contrary gales. The journey had stretched to a frustrating three weeks.

  When the ships hove into view, the Latin Patriarch of Antioch, Aimery of Limoges, hastily assembled a reception committee on the shore. As King Louis’ vessel drew up to the quay, a choir began to sing the Te Deum. With Aimery reciting blessings for their safe arrival, Louis VII and his men disembarked.

  An arduous journey of horrors was over. Two years after Bernard of Clairvaux had inspired it, the Second Crusade had finally arrived in Outremer.

  Chapter 3

  KNIGHT-ERRANT

  A handsome bachelor and excellent knight

  Ernoul

  The French contingents of the Second Crusade, under King Louis VII, set out for the Promised Land from the German-French border town of Metz in June 1147. They followed the German army, which had left the month before. Under the command of Emperor Conrad, the Germans led the way across Europe. Their journey east took them through the European provinces of the Byzantine Empire. The Germans created such havoc as they crossed imperial territory that the locals took to killing any stragglers. Inevitably the following French army encountered constant hostility, towns barred shut, sky-high prices and unburied German bodies spreading disease. It was said that ‘the Franks suffered less from the armed Greeks than from the dead Germans’.1

  The basileus Manuel Comnenos, Emperor of Byzantium since 1143, was a determined leader who fought tirelessly to enhance the power and prestige of his realm. Although he pursued a generally pro-Frankish policy, he was very concerned about the threat that such large foreign forces posed to his empire. He treated his unwanted visitors warily. To Byzantine Greeks, like the chronicler John Kinnamos, the crusade was a ‘handy excuse’ for the Franks’ real motive: to gain possession of Byzantine land ‘by assault and trample down everything in front of them’.2 As a result they were very inhospitable, and thoroughly alienated the crusaders. But the astute Manuel was right about the danger. Amongst the crusaders there were many who loathed the schismatic eastern Christians and coveted their immense wealth. Manuel shunted Conrad and his army across the Bosphorus to Asia as quickly as possible to avoid any attack on Constantinople.

  Manuel managed relations a little better with King Louis and the French, whose army arrived at Constantinople on 4 October 1147. Reynald would surely have been as impressed as any by the greatest city in the world, ‘Rich in renown and richer still in possessions’.3 The foundation of the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire dated back to the mists of antiquity. The city boasted stupendous walls, rebuilt by Justinian, marble palaces decorated with gold, and countless churches and shrines containing treasures and holy relics. These included the largest church in the world, Santa Sophia, under its cavernous dome. Many of the French, led by the outspoken Bishop of Langres, openly advocated an attack on the metropolis, but Manuel again managed to coax his unwelcome guests into Asia. He was helped by Byzantine agents spreading stories of great German victories, to spur the French knights on.

  The French hurried after the Germans, keen to claim their share of the spoils, but instead of piles of booty, they found themselves passing cairns of human bones. They soon encountered the beaten remnants of Conrad’s army, including the badly wounded emperor himself. The Seljuk Turks had been waiting for them. If the crusaders are to be believed, the Turks had been kept well briefed by the ‘treacherous’ Byzantines. As soon as the ponderous German force moved out of Greek territory, the mobile Turkish cavalry had simply obliterated them. The Germans’ treasure was plundered, the men massacred, the women and children sold as slaves. The Syrian chronicler Gregory the Priest wrote that:

  the countries of the Turks were filled with the spoil of the Franks, and talents of silver were sold as if they were lead.4

  The direct route was now barred. Instead of trying to fight his way past the victorious Seljuks, Louis decided to take the long way round and skirt Asia Minor. This would at least keep the crusaders inside the narrow coastal strip of Byzantine territory. That offered scant comfort, though, as the Greeks were now seen as ‘common enemy’ with the Turks, rather than as fellow Christians. Reynald was probably no different from most of the French in taking a strong dislike to the Greeks, whom they blamed for the crusade’s misfortunes.

  As for the real (Muslim) foes Reynald had come to fight, they remained a shadowy enemy haunting the fringes of the crusaders’ march. The French knew the potency of Turkish warriors – they had seen the effects of their handiwork in the traumatized Germans – but Reynald probably did not have his first real experience of warfare with the Turks until the French army reached the sinuous valley of the River Meander in south-west Anatolia (near modern-day Aydin) in December 1147.*

  Ranks of Turkish warriors lined the southern bank of the Meander and tried to block the crusaders’ crossing. But the crusaders attacked head-on across fords in the river and forced a passage. In this and other initial clashes the Turks were soundly beaten, but later, while crossing the narrow pass of Mount Cadmos, the vanguard of Louis’ army ignored the king’s order to camp at the top of the climb. Instead the leading troops carried on, leaving the centre unprotected. The Turks attacked in earnest and inflicted severe casualties. In the chaos, packhorses and men plummeted to their deaths in the deep ravines, and the king himself barely escaped. Luckily he was not recognized. When his horse was killed, Louis managed to clamber up a steep outcrop of rocks and fend off his attackers with a sword. Even more damaging than the casualties, who included many prominent knights, was the fact that the defeat at Mount Cadmos abruptly removed any sense of military superiority the French force may still have enjoyed. It also further diminished Louis’ already-poor reputation as a military leader, and sowed discord in the army. Additionally, there was obvious tension between Queen Eleanor and those around Louis who disapproved of her. Reynald, and everyone else present, could not have failed to notice the contrast between the gaudy Eleanor and her hedonistic followers on the one hand, and the pious Louis and his dour ecclesiastical advisers like Odo of Deuil on the other.

  The blame for the fiasco at Mount Cadmos was laid partly at Eleanor’s door. The vanguard that day had been led by a great lord from Poitou – and thus a vassal of the queen – called Geoffrey de Rancon. Queen Eleanor was travelling with Geoffrey as they crossed the mountain. It was said Geoffrey had disobeyed the king’s orders and continued to a more comfortable camping ground at Eleanor’s request. Additional evidence of the queen’s influence was seen in the fact that Geoffrey might well have been put to death for his catastrophic breach of discipline, but his life was spared – possibly due to Eleanor’s protection.

  Mauled and demoralized, the crusaders soon added cold and hunger to their misery. As they trudged towards Atalya on Anatolia’s south coast, they were driven to the extremity of eating their horses. At Atalya they were barred from the city and further aggravated by the high prices of the few goods on offer. They suffered continual Turkish attacks and, eventually, a plague. All of this they blamed on the Greeks, who then inflicted one last trial on the crusaders, charging an exorbitant 5,000 marks to ship t
he king and his nobles on the short journey to Antioch. Thanks to appalling weather, that normally short journey turned into three tortuous weeks, which ended at St Simeon on 19 March 1148. Meanwhile the foot soldiers and camp followers were obliged to take the harsh 500-mile land route to Antioch in the dead of winter across the passes of the Anti-Taurus Mountains. Ravaged by disease and hunger, harassed at every step by the agile Turkish horse archers, thousands of infantrymen even defected, to fight as mercenaries for the Muslims. It is likely that Reynald travelled with the king and his barons and so was spared the horrors of this land journey, but – noble or not – everyone on the crusade had endured months of frightful hardship.

  The Prince of Antioch, Raymond of Poitiers, had been awaiting King Louis’ arrival with increasing anxiety, and as soon as he heard of the crusaders’ landfall, he hurried the fifteen miles from Antioch to the coast. Raymond greeted King Louis reverently. He then conducted the royal party up through the hills to the city, with all the pomp he could muster. Everything had been prepared for a grand entry, and the clergy and people of Antioch greeted the crusaders with the ‘greatest magnificence’. It was not only the king who benefited from Raymond’s hospitality. The French knights, probably including Reynald, were showered with generosity. According to William of Tyre:

  Raymond showed the king every attention on his arrival. He likewise displayed a similar care for the nobles and chief men in the royal retinue and gave them many proofs of his great liberality. In short, he outdid all in showing honour to each one according to his rank5

  Certainly Queen Eleanor of France would have been very happy to see Prince Raymond again. Raymond was Eleanor’s uncle, brother of her father, Duke William X of Aquitaine. Like Reynald, Raymond of Poitiers was a younger son born in the West. Also like Reynald, Raymond had been without lands of his own. However, unlike Reynald, his father was one of the most powerful magnates in Christendom, Duke William IX of Aquitaine.

  In 1136 Raymond, then at the court of King Stephen of England, received a job offer from Outremer. Prince Bohemond II of Antioch had been killed in battle with the Turks – his head had been embalmed and sent to the caliph in Baghdad. Antioch was without a prince, and the rights of the principality passed to Bohemond’s only child, the young princess Constance. Constance’s mother Alice acted temporarily as regent, and King Fulk of Jerusalem marched north to protect Antioch, but his forces could only stay temporarily. In the long run, Constance needed a husband to run the principality and lead its troops in the constant warfare against Antioch’s Muslim and Christian neighbours. A delegation was sent to the West, and the role of Constance’s husband and Prince of Antioch was offered to Raymond of Poitiers. He quickly accepted the deal. He then had to journey to the East in secret, disguised as a poor pilgrim to avoid the clutches of King Roger of Sicily, who also had designs on Antioch. On his arrival, Raymond married Constance, even though she was only ten years old.

  On many levels Raymond was a perfect choice for the role. He was one of the great knights of the age, handsome, brave and monstrously strong. William of Tyre admired his many virtues:

  Lord Raymond was of noble blood and ancient lineage. He was very tall and in personal appearance extremely pleasing. He was young and his cheeks were still covered with the light down of youth He was handsome far beyond all the kings and princes of the world, and he was affable and agreeable in conversation In fact, his entire bearing was in every respect that of a charming and elegant prince. Experienced in military matters and expert in the use of arms, he easily surpassed all his predecessors6

  Even the Byzantines, with whom he had very tense relations, admired Raymond personally. ‘He was a man like the legendary Heracles,’7 the chroniclers wrote, ‘surpassing Priam with his goodly spear of ash’.8 Perhaps the best indication of Raymond’s effectiveness, though, is what his enemies thought of him. ‘Among all the kings of the Franks, there was none more feared by the Turks,’9 wrote Gregory the Priest, and the Muslim historians agreed:

  This accursed one was among the Frankish knights who were famed for their gallantry, valour, power of cunning and great stature, and he had acquired special repute by the dread which he inspired, his great severity and excessive ferocity10

  Raymond could not read, but he was a great patron of the arts, especially poetry, which flourished during his reign. He had an indolent, sybaritic streak and his court, with its blend of Western, Byzantine and Arab influences, was luxurious and sensual. True to the tastes of his father, William IX of Aquitaine, he fostered the fad for courtly love. All this suited Eleanor perfectly and she revelled in her stay in Antioch.

  The fashion for courtly love had been born in William IX’s court in Poitou. The duke was one of the earliest troubadours and, like her uncle Raymond, Eleanor had enthusiastically embraced her grandfather’s tradition, sponsoring troubadours, encouraging poetry and the conventions of courtly love in her circle. Princess Constance, Raymond’s now twenty-one-year-old wife, would also have been familiar with the conventions, which would be formally laid down by Andreas Capellanus for Eleanor of Aquitaine’s daughter, Marie of Champagne. His work De Amore (About Love) included such guidelines as: ‘The easy attainment of love makes it of little value’ (number 14) and ‘He whom the thought of love vexes, eats and drinks very little’ (number 23). It must have been thrilling – and daunting – for Constance suddenly to be surrounded by the most fashionable and romantic court in Christendom, as Eleanor and her entourage basked in the heady, licentious atmosphere of Antioch. Nobody was immune to the spellbinding attractions of Outremer, as the Muslim traveller Ibn Jubayr discovered when he saw a Frankish woman:

  most elegantly garbed in a beautiful dress from which trailed, according totheir traditional style, a long train of golden silk. On her head shewore a golden diademcovered by a net of woven gold and on her breast was a like arrangement. Proud she was in her ornaments and dress, walking with little steps of half a span, like a dove, or in the manner of a wisp of cloud. God protect us from the seduction of the sight11

  Antioch had been founded back in 300 BC by one of Alexander the Great’s generalsand it had thrivedfor centuries. In Roman timesit was third-biggest city of the empire,after Rome and Alexandria.The city had a great Christian heritage as well, which was very much alive for Reynald and his fellow crusaders. Antioch was where Christ’s followers were first called Christians. It was where St Peter set up his first bishopric, long before he became Bishop of Rome. The Patriarch of Antioch therefore rivalled in prestige the Patriarchs of Jerusalem and Constantinople, and the Pope. The Apostle Paul had worked in Antioch too, writing his epistles in a cave on the slopes of Mount Silpius. In Reynald’s time the cave was venerated, and the crusaders built a Romanesque church there – the only relic of Frankish Antioch still standing today. Although it had declined from its heyday, Antioch was still a great metropolis in the twelfth century and it was by far the wealthiest and most populous city controlled by the crusaders. It was ‘beyond all description and impregnable’, according to Stephen of Blois; its ramparts were said to be topped with 24,000 crenellations, for anyone who bothered to count.

  The city sat at the end of profitable trade routes from the Orient. Antioch’s port of St Simeon bustled with vessels from the Italian merchant cities of Pisa, Genoa and Venice, shipping soap, glass, carpets and the luxuries of Asia to eager consumers in the West. The famous ‘silks of Antioch’ were dyed, and precious stones from all over Asia were worked. Ironically, as the peril of Muslim unity increased, Antioch’s wealth had grown, too. The strong rule of Zengi and his son Nur al-Din made their lands safer for travellers, and caravan traffic swelled as a result.

  Around the city the territory was untamed. The home of lion, boar and leopard, it made glorious hunting for a young knight. It could be perilous, too; one notorious leopard, living in a ruined church near the outpost of Apamea, claimed many human victims, including a formidable Frankish knight. The Muslims called it ‘the leopard which fought the jiha
d’.12 Closer to the city itself, the land was rich and its deep brown soil was fertile. The plains and hills around were lush with crops, grape vines and fruit trees heavy with figs and citrus that ripened all year long. On the mountain slopes the prevailing wind from the sea was strong enough to bend the trees towards the east, but it also provided a cooling breeze for the great city and its famous gardens, blooming with red and saffron-yellow roses.

  Antioch was full of exquisite villas, gardens and rippling fountains in which the citizens were happy to frolic, to the astonishment of newcomers. Fed by five aqueducts dating from Roman times, even the common houses boasted running water and were luxurious beyond the dreams of Westerners, used to the chilly, echoing castles of Europe. According to Willebrand of Oldenburg, who passed through Antioch at the beginning of the next century, the houses looked like mud huts on the outside, but on the inside they were palaces of mosaic, marble and porphyry. They were hung with silk from China and ornamented in rich carpets from Persia. New incenses of the East stimulated the nose; and oranges, pomegranate and sugar – unknown in the West – pleased the palate. Sultry slave girls and courtesans satisfied other senses, and public baths were a revelation. To the newly arrived crusaders, used to the relative austerity of Western Europe, the Poulains (as the Syrian-born Franks were called) were rightly notorious for their ostentation and decadence. They lived a precarious and lavish lifestyle punctuated by violence, their profligate excesses stimulated by the ever-present threat of disaster.

  The twenty-something Reynald slotted neatly into this environment. Along with the harsh realities of his military calling, he had a taste for luxury and for show. And despite his relative poverty and lowly status, he clearly had the talents to back up his ambition and move in the most gilded of circles. The glimpses that we catch of Reynald from the contemporary sources build a picture of a very able young man, one who made his name with his courage and fighting skills, but who also made an impact in other ways. The only way a poor young bachelor could break into the upper echelons of a hierarchy dictated by birth was by proving himself as a knight. And Reynald seems to have conformed quite closely to the contemporary ideal of a courtly, chivalrous knight-errant.