CHAPTER TEN
‘I should like you to know that a number of my people
do not love me’
IN SPITE OF the crusaders’ successes, they needed to keep a very firm check on their emotions. While the news of Emperor Alexius’s flight and Isaac’s return to power seemed to guarantee the status of the young prince, the standing of the westerners was far less clear. They had, after all, just been bombarding the very city that was now poised to open its gates to them—how would its inhabitants react to the prince’s allies, particularly in light of Alexius III’s intensive anti-western propaganda over recent months? The overwhelming feeling throughout the camp was one of caution. Suspicion of Byzantine duplicity dated back to the First Crusade when Emperor Alexius I had failed to bring support to the crusaders at the siege of Antioch in 1098. Greek treachery was widely trumpeted as the reason for the crushing defeats suffered by the kings of France and Germany during the Second Crusade. The massacre of westerners in 1182 and the later alliance with Saladin served to consolidate a deeply held scepticism concerning Byzantine reliability. With firm news yet to emerge, the crusaders donned their armour and wearily prepared their weapons just in case Isaac, or his advisers, continued to resist the holy warriors.
Throughout the morning of 18 July a steady trickle of information and messengers came out from Constantinople, but all repeated the same story. The emperor was gone and his blind brother was back on the imperial throne. The doge and the nobles determined to clarify their own position. They selected four envoys: two (unnamed) Venetians and two Frenchmen, Matthew of Montmorency and Geoffrey of Villehardouin. They were instructed to ask Isaac to confirm the agreements made by the prince - covenants that, without a shadow of doubt, the future of the crusade rested upon. Prince Alexius was an asset of paramount importance to the westerners. They were counting on his father feeling sufficient paternal devotion and a moral obligation to ratify the promises made by the young man.
Thanks to Villehardouin’s presence on the embassy we have an eye-witness account of the events inside Constantinople on 18 July 1203. The four envoys rode out of the crusader camp and headed the few hundred yards towards the city walls. Escorts met them and they proceeded to the Blachernae palace. The presence of the Varangian guard at the gates showed that the new regime had the support of this vital faction. Shouldering their heavy battle-axes, the guard formed a menacing corridor right up to the main door of the palace itself. As he had in St Mark’s 15 months earlier, Villehardouin found himself amongst a small group of crusaders entering a magnificent but unfamiliar building, not knowing how he would be received. In Venice he was, at the very least, assured of the support of the city’s ruler, the doge, but in Constantinople he had no such guarantees. After several days of trying to batter their way into the Blachernae palace, four of the crusaders now found themselves freely entering the magnificent building.
They were taken into one of the ceremonial halls and there, waiting for them, was the Byzantine court in all its splendour. The room was crammed with the noble families of Constantinople, so tightly packed that there was hardly room to move. All wore their most splendid apparel: shining silks, dazzling jewels and long, flowing robes. As Villehardouin and his three companions moved into the room filled with the buzz of an alien language, they fell under the gaze of hundreds of eyes. Some expressions conveyed fear towards the men who threatened calamity on their city; some transmitted anger at the death and destruction already inflicted on Constantinople; others still may have viewed the westerners with disdain - the barbarians of popular Byzantine imagination. Yet more may have tried to appear welcoming, to reassure the aggressors that the struggle was over.
At the end of the hall, seated on their imperial thrones, were Isaac and his wife, Margaret, the sister of King Emico of Hungary. Villehardouin described the emperor as being dressed in the most costly robes imaginable; he was also quite taken by the empress whom he described as ‘a very beautiful woman’. Villehardouin appreciated the irony in seeing the couple seated there in such splendour when, only the previous day, they had been held as prisoners by the very same people who now fawned around them. If these people could change allegiance to one of their own so quickly, what of their loyalty to outsiders?
The Byzantine nobles paid their respects to the envoys and the four men walked down the hall to the imperial thrones. Isaac acknowledged them with due honour and, through an interpreter, asked them to speak. The crusaders replied that they wished to converse with the emperor in private, on behalf of Prince Alexius and their companions in the western army. This was a carefully calculated move: the promises made by the young man included many highly sensitive issues, such as the submission of the Orthodox Church to Rome and the payment of huge sums of money to the crusaders. If these matters were raised in front of the full Byzantine court they were likely to provoke outrage. At worst the physical safety of the envoys might be threatened; more likely, Isaac would face such an immediate and spontaneous demonstration of anger that he would be unable to agree any of the proposals put to him.
The emperor accepted the suggestion and stood up. Maria took him by the hand and led him into another chamber, accompanied only by a man identified by Villehardouin as his chancellor (probably a senior Byzantine noble), an interpreter and the four envoys. Thus far the whole tenor of the meeting had revealed a remarkable compliance on the part of the Greeks, dictated by the perilous and turbulent circumstances of the moment. Foreign rulers who visited Constantinople were usually treated to displays designed to show off the power and wealth of the Byzantine Empire and an integral part of this procedure was to demonstrate the manifest superiority of the Greeks. For example, while a visiting ruler was allowed to sit next to the emperor, his throne would be lower, making clear to all the proper order of affairs. King Louis VII of France had been obliged to submit to this gentle humiliation when he met Manuel Comnenus in 1147. The contemporary Greek writer, John Kinnamos, reported: ‘When he came inside the palace, the emperor was seated on high, and a lowly seat, which people who speak Latin call a chair, was offered to him.’1 In 1203, however, Villehardouin and his colleagues were in an unprecedentedly strong position for visitors to the imperial court - made evident by the rapid acceptance of their request for a private audience.
Once sequestered with the emperor, Villehardouin acted as the crusaders’ spokesman. He respectfully pointed out the great service they had rendered to Prince Alexius and how they had kept the terms of their agreement with him. Then he played the crusaders’ best card: ‘We cannot, however, allow him to come here until he has given us a guarantee for the covenant that he has made with us. He therefore, as your son, asks you to ratify this covenant in the same terms and the same manner as he himself has done.’2With some apprehension, Isaac enquired as to the details of the agreement and Villehardouin duly spelled them out.
Isaac’s scarred and sightless eyes could betray nothing, but his shocked silence revealed that he was deeply taken aback by the terms of the covenant. The scale of these demands was quite horrifying and he knew it might well be impossible for him to deliver everything required, particularly given the weakness of his own political power base. On the other hand, he longed to embrace his own son again, the young man whom he had not held, or spoken to, for over three years. Moreover, although he was still determined to rule, Isaac recognised that his authority was compromised by his blindness. It was therefore necessary to have a successor and co-ruler from the Angeloi dynasty firmly in place. The fact that the Byzantines’ inner circle had chosen to restore him to the throne showed how much they feared the crusaders and how badly the flight of Alexius III had damaged morale. Isaac had to hope that this fear extended to accepting the loss of their religious independence and fulfilling a huge financial commitment to the papacy’s holy warriors.
Isaac’s reply to Villehardouin displayed the tensions between the political reality and his personal emotions: ‘These are very hard conditions and I do not really see how we can put them into effect. All the same you have rendered both my son and me such outstanding services that if we were to give you the whole of our empire, it would be no more than you deserve.’3 Villehardouin may be finessing the moral worth of the crusaders’ actions here, as well as casting an uncannily accurate prophecy into Isaac’s mouth, but the general sentiment expressed by the emperor is just about credible. More revealing is Villehardouin’s aside that various opinions were expressed in the course of the interview, which is probably intended to convey that there was an intense and heated discussion. Yet the crusaders were unbending: Prince Alexius had made a deal, guaranteed by Isaac’s son-in-law, Philip of Swabia; the westerners had completed their part of the bargain and, if the emperor wished to meet his son again, he had to consent to the agreement in full. Finally, Isaac relented and swore to fulfil the covenant. A charter was drawn up by way of confirmation and the golden imperial seal was affixed. One copy remained with Isaac, the other was given to the envoys. With the formalities now completed, they bade the emperor farewell and, doubtless highly satisfied with their work, returned to the camp bearing the imperial charter.
For Prince Alexius this must have been a huge relief. The turmoil and uncertainty in Constantinople could have meant disaster for his father and brought about a final rejection of his own claim to the throne. Yet at this particular time everything seemed to have fallen his way. The nobles told the prince to prepare himself to re-enter Constantinople. The Greeks threw open the gates of the city and received him enthusiastically. For the young Alexius this was the end of a remarkable journey. From the dark years between 1195 and 1201 when he had spent months as a prisoner inside the city, to his bold escape in Thrace, to the rejections at Hagenau and Rome; the success of his approach to the crusade leaders; the near-implosion of the expedition on Corfu; and then the weeks of besieging his home city - this moment marked the close of his quest. He was feted and welcomed by the people of Constantinople and was reunited with his father at last.
A splendid ceremonial feast celebrated these momentous events. Hugh of Saint-Pol reported a joyous and dignified occasion; Niketas Choniates, as a Byzantine eye-witness, expressed a rather more jaundiced view of the proceedings. The leading crusader nobles came to the Great Palace, doubtless dressed in their finest cloaks and robes, where they sat at tables in one of the halls. At the head of the room, Isaac and Prince Alexius presided over the event. At a victory dinner there were speeches and both Isaac and his son delivered glowing eulogies to the men who had restored them to power. Niketas, who rarely missed an opportunity to express his dismal view of the young man, scorned the ‘power-loving’ and ‘childish’ prince. He also deplored the lavishness of the occasion. Jesters, entertainers and musicians performed; the servants produced fine, dainty foods, all in the opulent and ornate surroundings at the heart of imperial Constantinople. Niketas could not stomach this sycophantic behaviour towards the western barbarians, the men who had just humiliated his beloved city. The fact that Isaac and Prince Alexius could barely afford such luxuries only exacerbated his feelings of dark displeasure.4
With the end of the siege, the crusaders had achieved their primary short-term goal and the immediate, sapping tension of war slackened. They had succeeded in defeating the Byzantine emperor and had done so without incurring terrible casualties. Their worries concerning food and security seemed over; with these practical matters assured they could look to the future and, fortified by the honour and the victory granted to them by God, they could turn to the Holy Land.
For the people of Constantinople, in the short term, the mortal threat to their city appeared to be at an end. Isaac’s return to power quelled the fear of the fires, the bombardment and the slaughter that the barbarian warriors outside their walls might wreak. Yet, as Isaac had doubtless indicated during his discussions with the envoys, in spite of appearances, many of the Greeks viewed the westerners with the deepest suspicion and those aware of the agreement between the emperor and the crusaders were profoundly unhappy at the tenor of the terms. Conscious of this awkward atmosphere, Isaac acted prudently and quickly to alleviate the situation.The crusader army camped just outside the walls was too obvious a reminder of the westerners’ military might. Thousands of his people had lost their homes and possessions and they had no reason to rejoice at the crusaders’ all-too-visible presence. Isaac begged them to move back across the Golden Horn to the districts of Galata and Estanor where there was slightly less risk of dispute with the citizens of Constantinople. The nobles recognised the good sense in this proposal and immediately agreed to it. The emperor further smoothed the move by arranging for a good supply of food. The crusaders took over houses and settled in while the Venetians drew up their fleet along the shore of the Golden Horn to protect their boats from harm over the winter months and to repair any that had been damaged during the siege operations.
As the new regime took over, it had to respond - as new rulers always must - to petitions for clemency or favour. One individual released was Alexius Ducas, a leading Byzantine nobleman who had been imprisoned for the last seven years. Ducas, known universally as Murtzuphlus on account of the heavy eyebrows that grew together over his nose, was duly freed and soon took over the post of protovestarius, or chamberlain, a high court official. Within twelve months this formidable operator would give the crusaders grave cause to regret his liberation.
Another request came from a Muslim, Kaykhusraw, the brother of the sultan of Iconium. Like Isaac, he had been dispossessed by his younger brother and he too wanted the crusaders’ help in regaining what he regarded as rightfully his. Their success at Constantinople encouraged him to ask them to serve him in the same way. As Prince Alexius had done, Kaykhusraw proposed huge financial incentives and, in another similarity, even offered to be baptised a Christian and to lead his people into the Catholic fold as well. Robert of Clari reports that the French nobles and the doge assembled to discuss the matter at length. Many of the ruling houses in the medieval world had claimants and counter-claimants. Were the crusaders to be cast as the perpetual forces of right, forever intervening to re-establish proper order? And did their remit now extend to the Muslim world as well? While Kaykhusraw may have had a just cause, and the introduction of the Seljuk empire into the Christian orbit would be an astonishing achievement, the meeting decided to reject his plea. Their whole enterprise was beginning to rely on too many, as yet unfulfilled, promises of money and religious submission. How might those in the West - already hostile to their enterprise - react when they heard of an alliance with a Muslim emir, however positive his intentions purported to be? In truth, Kaykhusraw’s idea may not have been quite as far-fetched as it first appears because in later decades the papacy made serious attempts to persuade the Seljuks to convert to Christianity and there was a genuine dialogue between the two parties.5 In the circumstances of 1203, however, this was not a realistic idea and Kaykhusraw was told as much. He asked the crusaders why they could not help and was informed that the frailty of the regime in Constantinople—and the fact that the westerners were still waiting for the money promised to them - meant that they could not leave the city. Kaykhusraw was furious at this rejection and stormed back to Asia Minor to try to retake his lands without the crusaders’ help.6
Elsewhere in Constantinople, Count Louis of Blois was particularly interested in tracking down one prominent member of the former imperial entourage. His aunt, Agnes, had married Theodore Branas, a member of an important Byzantine family.7 Several French nobles went to see Agnes; they showed her due respect and offered to serve her, but were met with complete hostility. Agnes’s husband had been part of Alexius III’s regime and, with his demise, her own standing was dramatically reduced; thanks to the crusaders she could no longer expect to be part of the ruling elite. She refused to talk to her visitors and then pretended that she was unable to speak French. Her nephew then introduced himself, although Robert of Clari does not reveal whether this promoted any amiability from the count’s aunt. 8
During the crusaders’ stay in Constantinople they came across peoples from lands they had never previously known. One day when the nobles were visiting the emperor, the king of Nubia arrived at the palace. Robert of Clari reported some curiosity about his black skin - as a northern Frenchmen, he was unlikely to have met individuals from the lands below Egypt—and, more remarkably to the knight, the presence of a cross branded onto the royal forehead. Prince Alexius gave the king a full and formal welcome, as befitted a royal visitor, and introduced him to the crusader nobles. Through interpreters they learned that the king had come to Constantinople as a pilgrim. He claimed that his own lands were 100 days’ journey beyond Jerusalem and that when he started out he had 60 companions; 50 of them had perished on the way to the holy city and now only one remained alive. After visiting Constantinople this intrepid man wanted to go to Rome, then on to Santiago di Compostela in northern Spain before returning to Jerusalem to die: a suitable resting place for such a pious and devoted pilgrim. The nobles learned that all Nubians were Christians and that when a child was baptised, he or she was branded with the sign of the cross. In all respects they were impressed with this visitor and, as Robert of Clari commented, ‘they gazed at this king with great wonder’.9
As the crusaders began to relax over the following days, they started to behave as tourists and pilgrims, crossing over by bridge or barge into the great city to marvel at the palaces and churches. Constantinople was a true spiritual treasure chest. Villehardouin could hardly believe the number of relics contained in the city: ‘as many as in the rest of the world’, as he admiringly wrote.10 For these tough, pious men, the sight of so many relics intimately connected with Christ’s life, such as parts of the True Cross and the Crown of Thorns, displayed in such stunning and opulent locations, would have stirred feelings of great devotion. They could venerate these objects and give the deepest thanks to God for delivering them safely thus far on their journey. The relics might also serve to remind them of the ultimate object of their campaign, the liberation of Christ’s patrimony. Alongside these spiritual matters, the practicalities of trade and exchange also took place and the Venetians doubtless assessed the commercial possibilities of their new-found ascendancy in the city.
For all their relief at the end of the siege, the westerners still regarded the Greeks with some suspicion. In an attempt to create greater security for the crusaders, the French and Venetians demanded that a long section of the city wall (perhaps about 320 feet, according to Robert of Clari) be demolished. This stark exposure of the innards of Constantinople was yet another blatant reminder of the crusaders’ uninvited presence.11
The crusaders also had the opportunity to reflect on their achievement and to inform relatives and various interested parties in the West of their success. How would their conduct be received by the pope? Innocent had written to the crusaders in late June, making it plain that he did not want them to attack Constantinople except in particular circumstances and only with his, or his legate‘s, permission. He restated his hostile attitude towards the doge and his people and reminded the Venetians of their continued status as excommunicates. The pope expressed hope that the crusaders would behave well, or else they would not be like ‘a penitent, but a trickster, and a penitent returning to his sin is regarded as a dog returning to its vomit’.12
Despite his mistrust of the Venetians, another letter from this time demonstrates Innocent’s recognition of a need to show flexibility if the crusade was to be kept on the move. He ruled that the French crusaders could sail on Venetian ships to the Levant, even though this would mean travelling on boats manned by excommunicates. However, if the doge’s men were not absolved by the time of war in the Levant, he ordered that the other crusaders should not fight alongside them or else they risked defeat. God would not look kindly on the battles of excommunicates and the other crusaders would suffer by association. Such was Innocent’s antipathy towards the doge that he even gave the crusaders leave to attack the Venetians if they impeded the expedition. He also gave them permission to rake necessary food from Byzantine lands whenever it was needed and as long as it was done ‘without hurting people’.13
In spite of Innocent’s efforts to steer the crusade, the limitations of medieval communications were such that his instructions were often out of date by the time they reached the holy warriors. His letter of 10 August, written almost a month after Constantinople actually surrendered, was of a rather resigned tone. He knew that the expedition had gone to the Byzantine capital and lamented that the crusaders ‘seem to have neglected the relics of the Holy Land’.14
These letters give us some insight into Innocent’s mind at the time and show his mistrust of the Venetians, his concern for the Crusader States and his worries about the direction of the expedition. The crusaders, therefore, had to attempt to reassure the pope in all of these matters. The missive of Hugh of Saint-Pol is the most detailed of the existing letters sent by the crusaders to the West after July 1203 and it shows the conquerors’ view of their recent achievements. At least four copies of his letter survive; others (since lost) were almost certainly sent, too.
As one of the crusade leaders, Hugh had much to tell. The news of the expedition’s diversion had spread through the courts of western Europe and, depending upon how the information had been relayed, it might well have portrayed the crusaders in a very negative light. In August 1203, in the immediate afterglow of victory when they were basking in God’s approval for their decision to go to Constantinople, Hugh had the perfect opportunity to put his side of the story. Aside from providing a splendid eye-witness account of the siege, the Frenchman vigorously asserted the spiritual merit of the crusaders’ actions and roundly criticised those who had left the army in the course of the campaign. His perspective is a compelling mixture of the devoted holy warrior and a man steeped in chivalric values. Most significantly, it shows the thoughts of an individual who still maintained one clear goal for the expedition: Jerusalem. There is no sense that Hugh had set out originally intending to capture Constantinople; rather, that he and his fellows had been obliged to follow that particular path in order to achieve their objective: the liberation of Christ’s patrimony.
After his description of the fall of Constantinople he rounded on those who had abandoned the crusade: ‘I especially want you to know this: Stephen of Perche, Reynald of Montmirail, Enguerrand of Boves ... Simon of Montfort ... and the abbot of Vaux[-Cernay] are creating great discord in the fleet. They are proceeding to Jerusalem ... and they have left our army and us in mortal danger.’15 As well as the need to counter hostile propaganda, one can sense in Hugh’s words genuine anger at the decision of these men to strike off on their own.
Perhaps more of a diplomatic agenda lay behind his glowing endorsement of Doge Dandolo: ‘We truly have much to say in praise of the doge of Venice, a man, so to speak, who is prudent, discreet, and skilled in hard decision-making.’ Some people in the West, such as Pope Innocent III and, indeed, some on the crusade, such as Gunther of Pairis, saw the Venetians as greedy and solely motivated by money. From Hugh of Saint-Pol’s perspective, however, Dandolo’s excellent leadership skills and his often perceptive advice were worthy of fulsome praise and this testimony was an attempt to redress the simplistic and hostile picture some had of the doge.
Hugh also presented the core of his case as to why the diversion to Constantinople was justified. He had already mentioned the reasons for placing Prince Alexius on the throne and the financial inducements offered by the young man, but he had saved what he regarded as his best and most ‘glorious’ reason until the conclusion of the letter:
We carried on the business of Jesus Christ with His help, to the point that the Eastern Church (whose head is Constantinople), along with the emperor and his entire empire, reunited with its head, the Roman Pontiff ... acknowledges itself to be the daughter of the Roman Church. It also wishes, with humbled head, to obey the same more devoutly in the future—in accordance with normal custom. The patriarch himself, who desires and applauds this step, petitions all the way to the Roman See to receive the pallium of his office and on this issue, he along with the emperor swore a sacred oath to us.
In other words, Hugh was able to demonstrate that the holy warriors had acted properly because through their actions an enormous spiritual benefit had come to the Catholic Church. In theory, the schism of 149 years was over - surely this was a cause for celebration and congratulation ? In fact, Hugh was running ahead of himself: later events would show him to be wildly overoptimistic in his assessment of the Byzantines’ enthusiasm for their promised subjection.
Another reason to emphasise the scale of the crusaders’ achievements was that Hugh had to announce that the expedition would not be travelling on to the Holy Land until the following spring; again, a revelation that might open the crusaders to criticism. He explained that delay was unavoidable if they were to benefit from the young Alexius’s military support for the campaign in Egypt and argued that the scale of this backing was well worth waiting for. The crusaders and the emperor had already written threateningly to Sultan al-Adil (Saladin’s brother, known as Saphadin in the West) of Egypt, ‘the impious invader and occupier of the Holy Land’, informing him that the combined Christian forces would soon be attacking him. Hugh also expressed the hope that those in the Levant might take heart at this news and wait for help with renewed confidence.
One copy of Hugh’s letter - that sent to Count Henry of Louvain (who had taken part in the 1197-8 German Crusade) - contained an additional paragraph in which he urged men to join the expedition. This forthcoming Egyptian campaign is couched in highly chivalric terms: ‘You should also know that we have accepted a tournament against the Sultan of Babylon [Cairo] in front of Alexandria. If, therefore, anyone wishes to serve God (to serve him is to rule), and wishes to bear the distinguished and shining title of “knight”, let him take up the cross and follow the Lord, and let him come to the Lord’s tournament, to which he is invited by the Lord himself.’16
This remarkable imagery fully integrates the knightly obsession with tournaments with the idea of the crusade. The invasion of Egypt is characterised as a tournament, called by God, and is presented as a magnificent opportunity for knightly deeds. Yet unlike normal tournaments fought for selfish motives, these deeds will be for the Lord’s sake. As a layman trying to convince others to take the cross, Hugh clearly believed that this emphasis on a more secular aspect of holy war was most likely to achieve the desired results. Perhaps this fusion of the tournament and the holy war provides some insight into the way in which the crusaders themselves, rather than the churchmen, viewed their activities.17
Doge Dandolo also wrote a letter (now lost) in which he tried to explain the reasons for the attack on Zara—described by Innocent as ‘an outrage that is already notorious throughout almost the entire world’ - and to stress that the action at Constantinople was of certain benefit to the Catholic Church and the recovery of the Holy Land.18
As the crusaders and the Byzantines grew accustomed to their new relationship, preparations got under way for the formal coronation of Prince Alexius. In recognition of the effort to move the Orthodox Church closer to Rome, the ceremony was set for 1 August, St Peter’s Day, when, amidst great pomp, the young man, now aged about 21, joined his father as ruler of the Byzantine Empire. Both Villehardouin and the letter written by the crusade leaders chose to omit the fact that Isaac reigned as co-emperor in Constantinople. This may have been because Isaac’s earlier alliance with Saladin meant that he would be viewed in a poor light in the West and the crusaders did not want the stigma of this old association to tarnish their present success. By focusing on Alexius IV - towards whom the crusaders always claimed to have acted properly -Villehardouin could more easily demonise him when he subsequently acted traitorously.
Soon after his coronation Alexius IV wrote to the pope with his own account of events and to add his own praise and thanks for the crusaders’ actions. We must remember that the two men had met in early 1202 when Innocent had turned down the young prince’s request for help. Alexius also wanted to add his positive gloss to the letters of Hugh of Saint-Pol and the doge to counter the derogatory comments made by those crusaders who had left the expedition at Zara and Corfu. Like Hugh, Alexius was desperately anxious to swing papal and western European opinion behind an expedition that many saw as utterly misguided and driven by avarice. This was a profoundly serious task and the crusaders and their ally worked tirelessly to redress their obvious disobedience to the pope at Zara, to stress their subsequent successes and to make clear how their work had indeed brought benefits to the Catholic Church.
The twin emphases of the new emperor’s letter were, first, the moral justification of his cause—namely to reinstate his unjustly deposed father - and, second, the glorious news that the Orthodox Church accepted papal supremacy. Naturally he acknowledged God’s hand in his own and Isaac’s deliverance. He also took pains to explain why the crusaders had needed to besiege Constantinople, although he provided no details of the military engagements. In line with Hugh of Saint-Pol’s report, he argued that it was ‘a totally unforeseen task’ that caused force to be needed to establish his power in the city. He blamed the wicked propaganda spread by the usurper Alexius III: ‘He had so polluted with poisonous speeches the royal city, which sighed for us, that he declared the Latins [the crusaders] came to subvert ancient public freedom.’ In fact, of course, Alexius III had, quite naturally, been playing on negative perceptions of westerners to help his cause. The essence of these ideas was certainly attractive to the Byzantines and undoubtedly remained a potent factor under the new regime, too.
Alexius IV then addressed the issue of greatest interest to Pope Innocent, the standing of the Orthodox Church. He stressed how much this had motivated the crusaders to help him: ‘One factor, I confess, especially disposed the hearts of the pilgrims to our aid.’ In other words, the crusaders were not driven by the earthly desires of greed or glory, but by higher motives. He continued:
... we devoutly promised that we would humbly recognise the ecclesiastical head of all Christendom, namely, the Roman pontiff ... and we would, with all our might, lead the Eastern Church to him if Divine Mercy should restore the throne due to us, knowing full well that tremendous honour and advantage should accrue to the empire and eternal glory to our name if the Lord’s seamless tunic should regain its unity in our time and through our efforts.
Alexius also stressed his own determination and desire to recognise papal supremacy.
After all these good tidings, however, a complication emerged that revealed Alexius’s weakness as an emperor and the potentially porous nature of his promises. He wrote: ‘we will prudently and with all our might influence the Eastern Church toward the same end’. Pope Innocent might have smiled wryly at this line. Alexius was, in effect, saying that he would try to persuade the Orthodox churchmen to follow his lead, but such was his restricted power that he could not—as emperors in times past had done - simply order his ecclesiastics to take a particular course of action, certain in the knowledge that they would agree. Even if the Orthodox patriarch consented to this, such was the fragmented nature of imperial authority at this time that churchmen in the provinces might continue to act differently, if they so wished. To the cynic, therefore, Alexius’s promises had a hollow ring: only his own restoration to power was the one certain accomplishment of the crusaders.
Once Alexius was crowned, the crusade leaders en masse sent copies of a letter to the West parading their achievements.19 To their advantage, of course, was their success and, self-evidently, God’s favour, although as Alexius IV’s own letter revealed, a few issues were not as clear-cut as might have been hoped. The nobles’ letter survives in similar copies addressed to King Otto IV of Germany, to all western Christians and to the pope himself. Several other copies of this message may have been sent, but are not extant.
The letter covers the main points of the story: the Treaty of Zara, the journey to Constantinople, the surprise at the poor reception accorded to Prince Alexius, the conflict with the usurping Alexius III, the crusaders’ steadfastness against superior forces, the emperor’s ignominious flight and the coronation of Alexius IV All of this was made possible because they were divinely blessed. The opening line makes this clear: ‘How much the Lord has done for us - on the contrary not for us, but for His name—how much glory he has bestowed in these days we will briefly narrate ...’ Later on, similarly: ‘if anyone of us wishes to be glorified, he be glorified in the Lord and not in himself or in another’. That the crusaders acted with absolute propriety is made resoundingly clear. The scale of their achievement lends the letter a predictably upbeat tone and their decision to remain at Constantinople over the winter of 1203 is portrayed in the most positive manner. Furthermore, Alexius IV’s financial and military support for the crusaders also seemed assured.
The copy of the letter addressed to the Christian faithful tried to capitalise on this encouraging presentation of events by urging churchmen to rouse volunteers to complete the Lord’s work. In other words, more crusaders were needed. Strong, virile men were required and, perhaps over-optimistically, they were assured that the easier section of the campaign was to come: ‘Certainly, the vexing and almost unbearable great mass of hardships that stretched across our backs does not await them, for the power that descends from Heaven has mercifully relieved us of it.’ The crusade leaders argued that ‘a modicum of tribulation and labour will not only make for them a momentary name, but it will also bestow upon them an eternal hundredweight of glory’. Thus, the usual allurements of honour and divine approval were enhanced by the thought that the campaign would succeed quite quickly.20 It was hoped that these new recruits would not only ensure a greater chance of success in the Holy Land, but would help to make good the losses of men at Zara and Corfu.
Alexius was quick to begin to honour his undertaking to pay over a large sum of money to the crusaders. He presented 50,000 marks directly to the Venetians and a further 36,000 were given to the doge as the outstanding balance owed by the crusaders from the original contract of April 1201. The remainder went to the crusade leaders and allowed those who had borrowed money for their passage on the ships to pay it back.21 At last it seemed as though the burden under which the expedition had been labouring was beginning to lift. Yet underneath, all was not well.
While the crusaders’ financial situation improved, that of Isaac and Alexius was becoming critical. The huge sums of money needed to keep their promises to the westerners were far beyond their means. Alexius III had managed to take considerable wealth with him into exile, and this, plus the cost of fighting the crusaders and the general degeneration of imperial authority over recent months, meant that the treasuries were almost bare. Yet the new emperors knew that they had to satisfy the demands of their warlike guests.
One option remained, a route that opened them up to divine punishment : to provide the necessary gold and silver, they started to melt down some of the precious ecclesiastical ornaments that made Constantinople a spiritual powerhouse. This decision shows just how desperate the Greeks had become; to commit such an act of sacrilege was surely to provoke God’s wrath. There are occasional examples of churches in western Europe melting down precious vessels to generate cash for departing crusaders, but at least this could be excused as helping God’s work. Here, it was the rapacious demands of the crusaders - ‘thirsting after libations as copious as the Tyrrhenian Sea’, as Niketas Choniates vividly described it - that led to this outrageous behaviour. Words could barely express the mixture of fury, exasperation and shock that Niketas felt. He saw this as a turning point for Byzantium, a moment at which Alexius IV so shattered the proper order of things that he destroyed the integrity of the empire. Niketas wrote: ‘In utter violation of the law, he touched the untouchable, whence, I think, the Roman state was totally subverted and disappeared.’ The emperor’s men went to their work with vigour: ‘It was a sight to behold: the holy icons of Christ consigned to the flames after being hacked to pieces with axes and cast down, their adornments carelessly and unsparingly removed by force, and the revered and all-hallowed vessels seized from the churches with utter indifference and melted down and given over to the enemy troops as common silver and gold.’ For Niketas this heresy was compounded by the apparent indifference of both the emperors and the general population. As he concluded: ‘In our silence, not to say callousness, we differed in no way from those madmen, and because we were responsible, we both suffered and beheld the most calamitous of evils.’22
As the summer wore on, the emperor often came to see the crusader nobles. He had grown close to some of them, particularly Boniface of Montferrat. While his dealings with the westerners were cordial enough, he was finding the imposition of his authority on the people of Byzantium a much more challenging task. Just as the crusaders had viewed the Greeks with suspicion for decades, so the reverse was true: the Byzantines were always sceptical about the motives of western armies passing by Constantinople and feared their possible aggression. It should also be remembered that the anti-Latin riots of the early 1180s had attracted massive popular support. The role of the crusaders as the men who had delivered Prince Alexius to the imperial title raised potentially enormous anxieties and animosities. As we have seen, the young man had no experience of power, or any base of loyal supporters to call upon. In effect, Alexius had only become emperor because of the danger that his western allies posed to Constantinople and the cowardice of Alexius III. In the weeks since his return the new ruler had become painfully aware of the antipathy that many of his people bore him and his allies. He also needed to impose his control on those parts of the Byzantine Empire outside Constantinople. In the days before television broadcasts could transmit images of authority to the provinces, a medieval ruler—and particularly one who had come to the throne in such complicated circumstances - had to get in the saddle and go out to show his face. The emperor needed to process around his territories and receive the submission of his subjects or, if they resisted, bring them to heel by force. A progress of this sort would also raise more of the funds he so urgently needed, but to undertake this Alexius would require help and inevitably it was to the crusaders that he turned.
He came to the camp and summoned a meeting of the leading nobles. This was no social visit; all assembled in Baldwin of Flanders’s tent. Alexius paid tribute to his allies’ help - ‘you have done me the greatest service that any people have yet rendered to any Christian man’—but he had to state what must have been increasingly apparent to all: ‘I should like you to know that a number of my people do not love me, though they make a fair pretence of doing so. Moreover, the Greeks as a whole are full of resentment because it is by your help that I have regained my empire.’23
Alexius knew that the crusaders’ contract with the Venetians was due to expire in late September and that they would, therefore, be leaving Constantinople very soon. He acknowledged that he had little chance of fulfilling his promises to the westerners by then: he needed time to gather the money, the shipping and the military forces that he was obliged to provide. More pertinently, he had his own fate to think of Villehardouin’s report of the emperor’s speech has an authentic whiff of desperation: ‘The Greeks, I must tell you, hate me because of you; if you leave me, I shall lose my empire, and they will put me to death.’24
The new emperor simply had not had the time to cement his position. He pleaded with the crusaders to help him and, again, he offered hugely attractive financial incentives. Alexius asked them to stay with him until March 1204, the time of the next-but-one sea passage. If they remained he vowed to pay for the cost of the fleet until September 1204, one year after the expiry of the deal with the Venetians, and to provide foodstuffs for the Frenchmen and Italians until their departure in the spring. By then, he estimated, he would have established genuine order in his lands and there would be no danger of his predecessor regaining them. With Alexius holding real power, taxes and tributes would be available to pay the crusaders and to provide the fleet to transport the Byzantine forces. If these proposals were adopted, the crusaders would have the entire summer of 1204 to fight the Muslims - properly supplied and with their army enhanced by the support of the Greeks.
The nobles absorbed what the emperor had just told them. To many, Alexius’s present weakness was all too plain and the advantages of the deal he suggested were obviously mutually beneficial. They were painfully aware, however, of just how excruciatingly difficult it had been to persuade the army to accept the young man’s first offer at Corfu. The fact that much of it had not yet been fulfilled, coupled with the need for an even greater delay before sailing to the Holy Land, would be a truly awkward proposition to sell. The leadership told Alexius that they needed to consult their men, and the emperor returned to his city.
The following day Baldwin, Boniface and Dandolo summoned the nobles and the knights to a meeting. Inevitably there was uproar when these new ideas were presented and the same fault-lines as on Corfu opened up afresh. The bulk of the leadership, having committed themselves to the attack on Zara and to the support of Alexius, wanted to accept the plan and winter in Constantinople. To the faction that had threatened to go to Brindisi, this was merely another delay: the whole affair seemed to them to be dragging on interminably. The dissenters reminded Baldwin and Boniface that they had agreed to come to Constantinople on the condition that they could leave the city when they so requested.
The senior crusaders’ argument played upon the lateness of the sailing season. If they allowed a couple of weeks to gather everything together and to fettle the fleet, and then were a month at sea, the crusade would not arrive in Syria until the early winter. Rain and cold meant that the Holy Land would be unsuited to warfare. Instead the army would be penned up in one of the coastal cities, probably creating tension with the locals and certainly consuming valuable supplies. Waiting in Constantinople until March meant free provisions, and would ensure that Alexius was safely established in power, thereby enabling him to give his full support to the expedition. The Venetians would remain in the city as well and a rested, properly equipped, force would be very much better placed to conquer the land overseas.
In the end this last argument won the day. If, as a majority of the leaders seemed to believe, it was possible to accept that Alexius would and could keep his promises, then the logic in delaying until the spring was overwhelming. The Venetians swore to remain in the service of the army until Christmas 1204 and, according to Villehardouin, Alexius ‘paid them enough to make it worth their while’.25 The crusaders in turn took an oath to remain in association with the Venetians over the same length of time and the matter was settled.
With this important decision made, the emperor and the crusaders began to ready themselves to tour the provinces. The seniority of the men who accompanied Alexius on this campaign makes it clear just how serious a matter this was. Boniface of Montferrat, Hugh of Saint-Pol and Henry of Flanders, to name but a few, chose to take part in the expedition where their presence as powerful knights and skilled military men would be greatly valued. There was also, of course, the possibility of financial reward and an opportunity to accomplish feats of bravery. The Devastatio Constantinopolitana described Alexius proposing ‘substantial bonuses and money to our army’s knights and infantrymen for coming with him’.26 Niketas Choniates suggests that the emperor offered Boniface of Montferrat 16 hundredweight in gold - an irresistible incentive.27 It would not be prudent for the entire crusading army to leave Constantinople, however, because this might expose Isaac to danger. His son and the French nobles must have been well aware of the need to provide some protection to the ageing co-emperor. Thus Count Baldwin and Count Louis of Blois remained at Constantinople, along with the Venetians whose naval expertise was not required on this particular occasion.
The crusaders’ preparations were marred by the death of Matthew of Montmorency, one of the most senior knights on the whole campaign and a veteran of the Third Crusade. Matthew had strongly supported the diversion to Constantinople and headed one of the seven contingents of the army outside the city. He fell ill in August 1203 and died the same month, deeply mourned by all. Villehardouin paid glowing tribute to ‘one of the best knights in the whole kingdom of France, one of the most deeply loved and respected’.28Interestingly, Matthew was buried in Constantinople in the church of the Knights Hospitaller of Jerusalem, a most appropriate choice for a man who had died in the service of Christ and was striving to reach the earthly Jerusalem at the time of his death.
In mid-August Alexius and his crusader allies moved out of Constantinople to begin their task. Another object of their campaign was to capture Alexius III, who harboured hopes of a return to power. Given his present weakness, however, the renegade was unlikely to stray too close to such a formidable force. The ignominious departure of Alexius III and the presence of his successor and the western soldiers meant that most of the local tributaries to Constantinople came to pay homage to the new ruler as was required.
Alexius IV and the crusaders did not, however, travel especially widely. It seems that they chose not to visit western regions of the empire, such as Thessalonica and the Peloponnese, probably out of fear of being away from Constantinople for too long.
One important figure who chose not to acknowledge Alexius was someone who would come to haunt the crusaders when they took control of Byzantium for themselves—Johanitza, the king of Bulgaria (1197—1207). The Bulgarians, the neighbouring Vlachs and the pagan Cumans had been a thorn in the side of the Byzantines for more than 20 years and Johanitza had established independent rule over a sizeable territory. Bulgaria was formerly subject to Greek overlordship, but its rulers had cast this aside in the 1180s. The advent of a new emperor, whether he had western allies or not, gave Johanitza no reason to sacrifice his autonomy and so he declined to acknowledge the young man’s authority.29
The emperor travelled north-west to the city of Adrianople in Thrace, where his rival Alexius III had briefly tried to establish himself - although he had prudently departed before his enemies arrived. Niketas reports that the joint crusader and Byzantine force subjugated the Thracian cities and then extracted as much money as possible from them.30 Dissent broke out between the crusaders and the emperor because Henry of Flanders claimed that he had not been paid a sum of money promised to him. Without this incentive, the count and his troops departed for Constantinople, showing just how fragile the relationship between Alexius and at least some of the crusaders was. It also suggests - in spite of his successful campaign—the scale of the emperor’s struggle to find the cash to keep his lavish promises to the westerners. Boniface and the others remained with Alexius and completed their journey without further mishap.