In early August the First Crusaders reached the region of Pisidia and, relieved to find ‘a fertile country, full of good and delicious things to eat and all sorts of provisions’, they stopped briefly to recover their strength. Some of the princes decided to engage in the preferred aristocratic pastime of the age, hunting. Unfortunately, in the midst of the chase, Godfrey of Bouillon was attacked by a savage bear and badly mauled. It was some time before he returned to full health.
The Franks advanced on Iconium, a well-fortified centre of Seljuq power, but by the time they arrived, in mid-August, the Turks had fled, and the crusade passed through the city without incident. By the end of the month, the expedition had reached Heraclea, where the Turkish garrison put up a brief, half-hearted defence before retreating. With the Seljuq overlords of Asia Minor on the run, the First Crusaders were now able to make contact with the region’s indigenous population.36
Oriental Christians had been living in Asia Minor for centuries, ruled by the Greeks and, more recently, by the Muslim Turks. By the late summer of 1097, the crusade stood on the borders of a land inhabited by Armenians. Proud, fiercely independent Christians, they had no love of Seljuq domination, nor any burning desire to be reabsorbed by Byzantium. Some Armenian nobles had managed to hold on to their territories, surviving as client rulers to the Turks, feeding off the rising tide of discord as the edifice of Seljuq power in Baghdad crumbled. Others lived under direct Muslim rule, barely tolerating the presence of Turkish garrisons, eagerly awaiting an opportunity for freedom. The coming of the crusade wiped away the old order, offering Armenian and Latin alike the chance to benefit from co-operation and alliance.37
The Cilician expedition
At Heraclea the First Crusade faced a choice of routes onward through Armenian territory and into Syria. To the south and east the road led through the narrow defile of the Cilician Gates, across the fertile plains of Cilicia itself and then over the Belen Pass – a natural break in the Amanus mountains – to Antioch. This was the shortest, most direct path, but crossed two small passes that might easily be blocked by Muslim defenders. The alternative road led north through Cappadocia and then east, circling the formidable Anti-Taurus, a large craggy range of mountains. The main body of the crusading army chose to follow this longer route, while a small expedition, headed by two lesser-known princes – Baldwin of Boulogne, the brother of Godfrey of Bouillon, and Bohemond’s nephew, Tancred – headed into Cilicia. This approach has long been misrepresented by modern historians, who argued that the northern route was adopted only because it traversed easier ground, and that Baldwin’s and Tancred’s sortie was simply a self-serving treasure hunt.
In fact, the Franks were following a more carefully conceived policy. The crusade was now but a short distance from the great city of Antioch. It would have to be taken if the expedition was to have any hope of reaching Palestine, and the princes must have known that this might require a long and exhausting siege. The strategy they pursued after Heraclea was shaped by the need to prepare for this Antiochene campaign. By approaching Syria from two directions, in a pincer movement, the crusaders could establish contact with the Armenians of Cappadocia and Cilicia. The Franks might then aid their Christian brethren and establish an extremely useful network of alliances and foraging centres with which to supply the push into Syria. The princes were also expecting to be reinforced both by Byzantine troops and by later waves of crusaders, and the Cilician expedition would serve to secure the fastest road to Antioch.
Baldwin’s and Tancred’s expedition was not just an avaricious, independent adventure. Their strike south-east into Cilicia in mid-September 1097 was a deliberate and purposeful ploy, sponsored by the crusade leadership. Baldwin’s and Tancred’s selection as leaders of this venture depended in part upon their prominent familial connections, but their personal qualities must also have been a factor. Each man came from an eminent background and possessed ample military experience but, so far, the careers of both had been eclipsed by their more famous relatives: Godfrey and Bohemond. Baldwin and Tancred were profoundly ambitious men. Energetic, wily and skilful, they marched into Cilicia at the princes’ bidding, all the while hoping that the expedition might catapult them to a new level of power and influence. The crusade’s leaders may have intended this to be a closely co-operative mission, but the protagonists’ acquisitive aspirations and fiery characters soon led to conflict.38
Baldwin of Boulogne set out with around 300–500 troops, including some prominent members of Godfrey’s contingent, such as Reinhard of Toul and Baldwin of Le Bourcq. Tancred left with a smaller force, perhaps 100–200 strong and including his brother-in-law, Richard of Salerno. But, perhaps because he also travelled in the company of an Armenian guide, it was his group that found the fastest route through the unguarded Cilician Gates and beyond. Tancred was thus the first to arrive at Tarsus, a walled town to the south of the pass.39
Situated on the main route in and out of Cilicia and possessing a fine Mediterranean harbour, Tarsus was a natural centre of trade and commerce. Its ancient history already stretched back across 2,500 years when the crusaders arrived. Alexander the Great stopped here to swim in the River Cydnus, upon the banks of which Tarsus stood, during his all-conquering march into the Orient. In the first century BC, under the Romans, the town became the capital of Cilicia and its schools of philosophy achieved an international reputation. It was in Tarsus that Mark Antony first met Cleopatra, and later, one of its natives, St Paul the apostle, became a founding father of Christianity. But the inexorable passage of the ages undermined Tarsus’ greatness. Over the centuries sedimentation gradually moved the Mediterranean coastline towards the south, and as town and port were separated trade faltered and Tarsus drifted into obscurity. Today, lying fifteen kilometres from the sea, the small town reveals little of its past. A stone archway – Cleopatra’s Gate – still stands, commemorating her majestic arrival, but even this was built after the event as a tourist attraction in the second century CE. Local Turks have given it the less reverential nickname of ‘The Bitch’s Gate’.
In the eleventh century, however, Tarsus retained much of its classical glory and its pre-eminent status upon the Cilician plain was intact. Tancred approached this illustrious settlement on 21 September 1097. Its Turkish garrison raced out to do battle, but they were easily rattled and soon retreated back into Tarsus. The Franks quickly established a loose cordon around the town, and Tancred put on an elaborate show of preparing for the coming conflict, taunting the garrison, warning that his was but the vanguard of the crusading army, and that soon the great Bohemond would arrive. Tancred’s crafty tactics of intimidation paid off. That night many of the Turks fled, and, in the morning, what remained of the garrison sought terms of surrender. Tancred’s banner was soon raised on top of Tarsus’ citadel, the mark of his right of possession, and, although his troops had not yet gained entry to the town, the first foray of his expedition seemed set to be a marked success.
Towards the end of that day, Baldwin of Boulogne arrived. At first both he and Tancred were relieved, each having taken the other to be a Turkish force, and they settled down to share a hearty feast beneath Tarsus’ walls. By the following morning, however, a seed of envy had begun to grow in Baldwin’s mind. Tancred may have been willing to offer his comrade a small portion of the treasures to be had from Tarsus, but he refused Baldwin’s demand for an equal share. Both men had reasonable grounds for dispute: Tancred’s force alone had orchestrated the town’s surrender and his banner now flew, clear for all to see, marking, in accordance with western custom, his legal right to hold Tarsus unchallenged; for his part, Baldwin argued that they had begun the Cilician expedition as a co-operative venture and thus all spoils should be divided evenly.
Tancred had the stronger claim, but he was actually in quite a weak position. He was heavily outnumbered, as Baldwin had arrived with a force that was perhaps double the size of his own. Tancred had also failed to get a single crusader within Tarsus’ walls. Sensing an opening, Baldwin arranged a secret parley with the Turks at which he put his case through an interpreter, skilfully weaving a web of persuasion around the garrison’s hopes and fears. Tancred may, he argued, have the support of Bohemond, but he, Baldwin, was brother to Godfrey of Bouillon, the mightiest of all crusaders, who would surely trample Tarsus underfoot, obliterating all within its walls, should the town remain in Tancred’s hands. The Turks’ minds were soon turned: Tancred’s banner was torn down, thrown into a nearby marsh and replaced by that of Baldwin.
When he saw Baldwin’s banner flying above the town, Tancred realised that he had been outplayed. The insult to his pride was considerable, and a less calculating man might well have flown into a rage, but Tancred knew that any attempt to challenge Baldwin in combat would probably end in disaster. Within hours he had gathered together his troops and ridden off to the east.
Baldwin may have seen off his rival, but he had yet to assert full control over Tarsus. At first he was granted access to only two of the town’s towers while the delicate negotiations surrounding the surrender were finalised. Baldwin was in no position to force the matter – his own army was too small to give him unquestionable military superiority, and the town’s Armenian populace had not yet overcome their fear of the Turkish garrison.
Then, as day faded on 24 October, a force arrived at Tarsus. Some 300 southern Italian Normans, members of Bohemond’s contingent, had been sent south from the main host to reinforce Tancred’s group. Tired and hungry, they begged Baldwin to grant them shelter within the town, but for the moment he refused, fearing his position would be destabilised. This decision would have bloody consequences. In the dead of night, as Bohemond’s men lay sleeping in the fields surrounding Tarsus, the bulk of the Turkish garrison managed to slip, unseen, out of the city. There they ‘suddenly fell upon the Christian men who had surrendered their tired limbs to sleep . . . beheading some, slaughtering others, piercing others through with arrows, leaving [few] alive’. It must have been a swift but vicious assault, because no alarm was raised, and, with their grisly work done, the Turks raced off into the darkness.
With the coming of dawn, the atrocity was discovered and Tarsus thrown into chaos. Baldwin’s enraged followers went on the rampage, butchering all remnants of the Turkish garrison. A wild rumour swept through the town that Baldwin was in some way implicated in the affair, and, fearing for his life, he locked himself in a tower and waited for the storm of vengeance to subside. He eventually convinced his men of his innocence and regained control of Tarsus, but the accusation of murder stained his reputation. Over the next week the town was combed for booty, although Armenian property was probably left untouched, and a sizeable Frankish garrison was installed. With Tarsus safeguarded, Baldwin and his remaining men set off east.40
Tancred had, meanwhile, found a new ally. Soon after leaving Tarsus he arrived at Adana. Today this bustling city dominates the entire Cilician region, but in 1098 it was just a small fortress town, inferior to Tarsus in both size and status. Adana had just succeeded in overthrowing its Turkish garrison in a brutal coup, and so Tancred found himself being warmly greeted by its new Armenian ruler, Oshin. This may have been something of a disappointment. Having played no part in Adana’s liberation, Tancred was in no position to lay claim to the town. Unless he was prepared to take up arms against his Christian brethren, he and his men would once again be denied the rights of conquest and plunder. Oshin, himself a canny and ambitious noble, sensed that there might be a problem and quickly offered a solution. After becoming Tancred’s client and ally, he would lead the Franks to another rich and prosperous town – Mamistra – which, Oshin promised, was weakly defended. This astute deflection of interest forestalled any conflict, and the friendship was sealed when Tancred’s small army was reinforced with 200 Armenians.41
In the last days of September Tancred duly marched on Mamistra, a thriving commercial centre on the banks of the Pyramus river. Oshin’s predictions proved accurate, and its Turkish garrison, terrified by the crusaders’ burgeoning martial reputation, put up only cursory resistance. Tancred was eagerly welcomed by the Armenian population and accepted as Mamistra’s new ruler. He was, at last, able to distribute a wealth of ‘food, clothing, gold and silver’ among his men as reward for their loyalty and patience. A few days later, Baldwin of Boulogne arrived in the region and established a camp on the opposite bank of the Pyramus. With the memory of Tarsus still fresh in everyone’s mind, tensions were understandably high. Among Tancred’s men, Richard of Salerno – one of the most prominent southern Italian Norman crusaders – stirred things up, arguing that revenge must be taken. Baldwin seems to have imagined that he could repeat his success at Tarsus, but on this occasion Tancred was in an entirely different position. With his Adanan allies, he could virtually match Baldwin for manpower, and, more importantly, he already had full control of Mamistra’s fortifications. This time he would not back down.
With accusation and suspicion running rife, a confrontation was almost inevitable. When it came, it was short lived but brutal, and afterwards each side claimed the other had instigated the fighting. It may, in fact, have been little more than an impromptu brawl, but, all the same, a number of men were seriously injured, one or two were even slain, and captives were seized from both camps. Peace was restored the very next day and prisoners returned, but this was a dark and shocking episode: the knights of Christ had, for the first time, spilled one another’s blood. Greed and ambition had brought discord to the crusade.
Following the mêlée at Mamistra, Tancred and Baldwin went their separate ways and would not meet again during the crusade. Baldwin was contacted by an Armenian noble named Bagrat, whom he had earlier befriended at Nicaea, and, lured east by the promise of fresh conquests, he left Cilicia behind him. Tancred garrisoned Mamistra with fifty knights and started out for the Belen Pass. He negotiated the crossing into Syria without difficulty, secured access to the port of Alexandretta and rendezvoused with the main crusading host as it marched on Antioch.42
In many ways, the Cilician expedition was a success: friendly relations were established with the Armenian population; the towns of Tarsus and Mamistra were garrisoned; and the direct route between Asia Minor and Antioch was secured. The venture also brought Baldwin and Tancred out of the shadows – from this point forth both would play prominent roles in the history of the crusading movement. The incursions into Cilicia may have served the overall interests of the expedition to Jerusalem, but they did, nonetheless, point towards a disturbing future, in which the pious vision of Jerusalem might be clouded, or even obscured, by personal rivalries and the temptations of wealth and power.
The journey of the main armies
While Tancred and Baldwin of Boulogne crossed Cilicia, the remainder of the crusading army forged a route north to Caesarea in Cappadocia and then south-east to reach Coxon in the first week of October. To this point the journey went well: Turkish garrisons fled as the host approached and no real resistance was encountered; friendly relations were established with the local Armenian population, which provided plentiful supplies; and the Franks’ role as servants of the Greek emperor was fulfilled, as Byzantine representatives were installed in command of two towns, Assan and Comana. At Coxon, Raymond of Toulouse, who had been ill for much of the journey from Iconium, recovered his strength. Around 7 October he dispatched a sizeable force, perhaps containing as many as 500 knights, south towards Antioch. This was in essence a scouting party, but Raymond may have been hoping to occupy Antioch before the rest of the crusade arrived, because he had heard a rumour that its garrison had deserted. When this proved to be false, the knight Peter of Roaix was sent with a small force, skirting around to the south of the city and into the Ruj valley, where, after brief fighting, he established a Provençal outpost.43
For the main army, the journey south from Coxon over a low-lying arm of the Anti-Taurus proved troublesome. A member of Bohemond’s army described the experience:
We set out and began to cross a damnable mountain, which was so high and steep that none of our men dared to overtake one another on the mountain path. Horses fell over the precipice, and one beast of burden dragged another down. As for the knights, they stood about in a great state of gloom, wringing their hands because they were so frightened and miserable, not knowing what to do with themselves and their armour, and offering to sell their shields, valuable breastplates and helmets for threepence or fivepence or any price they could get. Those who could not find a buyer threw their arms away and went on.44
Finally, around 10 October 1097, the First Crusade reached Marash, at the head of the Amouk valley and the route towards Antioch and northern Syria. Upon their approach, the town’s Muslim garrison fled, and Marash’s Armenian governor Thatoul, who had until then ruled as a Turkish client, offered the Franks a warm welcome. Lavish markets were set up, from which the crusaders could purchase all manner of supplies and provisions to soothe away memories of the Anti-Taurus.45
The First Crusade had survived the crossing of Asia Minor, albeit with major losses – perhaps half of those who had left Europe had been lost to battle, disease and starvation.46 No other crusade would manage this feat, though many tried. Sheer bloody-minded perseverance, the help of allies and a healthy dose of luck enabled the armies of this first expedition to succeed. Now, however, the Franks faced the greatest challenge of the crusade.