That the Holy City lay in bondage could not be questioned. Clots of earth, dung, all manner of filth was hurled through windows of Christian homes. Daughters and sons of Christians were abducted, defiled, festivals prohibited. Yet these iniquitous pagans, dissatisfied with the boundaries of Arabia and Syria, traveled north to menace Europe. Thousands were slain in the Armenian capital of Ani and a cross surmounting the cathedral was melted to make a brick, set at the door of a mosque for infidels to step upon. Thus affronted, who could doubt the surpassing fury of God?
His Holiness Urban, moved by inexpressible pity, crossed the Alps to Gaul in the year of our Lord 1095. At Clermont he met with the principal barons of France, entreating them to aid their brethren in the East. Present were three hundred abbots and bishops. For seven days they conferred while snow lay thickly on the ground. It is not I who beseeches you, he told them. It is Christ who commands. And during those days His Holiness excommunicated the bishop of Cambrai for simony. If this were not enough, he excommunicated King Philip for adultery with Comtesse Bertrade d’Anjou, a sentence of such inflexibility that all were astonished, making them at once fear and love a pastor so vindictive.
From many leagues came citizens high and low to see the pontiff, to hear his message. Those unable to find lodging put up tents. We are told that the fields near Clermont resembled a military encampment. Peter the hermit was seen, albeit chronicles from those days disagree as to whether he spoke.
All in good time His Holiness came forth, attended by cardinals and bishops, a tall man robed in white. When he lifted his hands the multitude fell silent. He spoke with sweet and persuasive eloquence.
O, Frankish men, in how many ways has our Lord blessed you. How fertile is your land. How steadfast your faith. How indisputable your courage. To you, accordingly, do we address our brief. We wish you to know what just and grievous cause has brought us hence. We hear ominous tidings. We hear of a malevolent race withdrawn from the communion of our belief. Turks, Persians, Arabs, accursed, estranged from God, that have laid waste by fire and sword to the walls of Constantinople, to the Arm of Saint George. Until now Constantinople was our bulwark, our rampart. Now it stands disfigured, imperiled. How many churches have these enemies of God polluted, torn asunder? We hear of altars desecrated by filth from Turkish bodies. We hear of true believers circumcised, the blood of circumcision poured into baptismal fonts. What can we say to you? Turks stable their horses in churches. Misbelievers force Christians to kneel and bow their heads, awaiting the stroke of the sword. Turks ravish Christian women. They ravish Christian children. What more can we say? Think of pilgrims who crossed the sea, obligated to pay toll at the gate to every city, at the entrance to every church. How often are they falsely accused, humiliated? Those who trusted in poverty, how are they met? They are searched for hidden coins. Calluses on their heels are slit in search of coins. They are given scammony to drink until they vomit, until their bowels burst, while Turks examine what they disgorge. O, listen. Turks cut apart the bellies of Christians, slice apart their entrails so that what nature held secret must be disclosed. Turks perforate the navels of God’s servants, pull forth and bind their intestines to stakes, lead them about while viscera discolor the earth. They pierce Christians with arrows, flog the suffering. What else can we say? What more shall be said? To whom, therefore, does the task of vengeance fall, if not to you? Are not these your brethren in Christ? O, Frankish men, are you not girdled knights? Step forward. Ye who have turned against one another, who cultivate fraternal strife, step forward. Ye who have been thieves, become soldiers. Be you now armed with the sign of the cross and step forth to battle enemies of our Lord. Let no obstacle dissuade you. Let controversy slumber. Let no possession detain you, nor family solicitude. Recall the words of thy blessed Savior. Whosoever shall abandon for my name’s sake his house, or his brethren, or his sisters, or his father, or his mother, or his wife, or his children, or his property, shall receive a hundredfold and shall inherit everlasting life. If the Maccabees of ancient days earned glory because they fought for the Temple, likewise are you granted this opportunity to rescue the Cross, the Blood, the Tomb. In the past have you not waged unmeet war? Have you not ingloriously struggled toward mutual destruction? Avarice and pride directed you. For this you deserve damnation, perpetual death. Yet now we offer redemption, the reward of holy martyrdom. O, ye Franks. Palestine is a land flowing with milk and honey, precious in the sight of God, a place to be divided. Therefore we call upon you. Wrest from that accursed race the promised land, Jerusalem, fruitful above other lands, center of the earth, made illustrious by His sojourn, consecrated by His passion, redeemed by His death, glorified by His burial. The way is short, the struggle brief. Fear not. Fear not torture wherein lies the martyr’s crown. A bed awaits you in Paradise. Fear not death wherein lies everlasting glory. Angels will present your souls to God. Now see before you, leading, guiding, He who is invisible, eternal. Therefore march assured in expiation of your sin. Go assured that
