Documents relate that certain Jews were baptized through force but afterward, once Count Emich had gone, in defiance took up their wicked faith as dogs return to vomit. Isaac the Righteous, so called, led his son and daughter at midnight to the sacred Ark, slew them, sprinkled the pillars with their blood. This, said he, is reconciliation for the evil I have done. Next he set his mother’s house afire. Next to the synagogue with his torch, chanting madly. Christians held out a long pole for him to grasp, hoping to save this Jew they had converted, but he would not accept it and perished in the blaze. Nine hundred or more died at Mainz. Carts heaped high with corpses went trundling through the night, which is piteous. Yet one should inquire, as did the bishop of Cluny, if Jews be not more guilty than Saracens toward Jesus Christ.
The bishop of Würzburg collected butchered Jews. Fingers. Thumbs. Feet. Hands. Severed heads. He anointed these bloody pieces with oil and buried them in his garden since it is the nature of a man to perform his office.
Count Emich’s Jerusalemfarers marched along the Rhine to Cologne. Here, as elsewhere, Israelites scattered, disguised themselves. Some who were caught and refused to acknowledge the light of the world were slain, their synagogue wrecked, burnt.
Nor did English Jews escape. Many in London ran shrieking to the devil. York. Stamford. Norwich. Throughout the realm Jewish bloodsuckers were despatched, this according to Richard of Devizes. Winchester alone, says he, ignored its worms.
Count Emich marched toward Hungary. Why go to the end of the earth at huge expense, his soldiers asked, if those who deny our Lord live close at hand? Trier. Metz. Prague. Ratisbon. Nitra. How many Israelites tasted the blade? Coloman, sovereign of Hungary, would not grant permission for this army to continue and ordered soldiers to defend the bridge near Wiesselburg. For six weeks they skirmished, during which time Emich’s men laid siege to Wiesselburg fortress. But they lost heart, fleeing in all directions when Coloman himself appeared. Count Emich with some few knights escaped on swift horses and rode back to Germany, very far from Jerusalem. It may be this was punishment meted out by God for slaughtering the children of Israel. And yet, since Jews are proven enemies of God what happened could not be homicide but malicide. With Jews, as with Saracens, albeit they manifest good works and great penance it is of no use since those who do not believe are damned. If enemies of the Church meet no resistance, how should Christianity survive? Therefore they must be bent with appropriate harshness, as the mad are shackled that the lucid may flourish. Christians who worship the Lord do not practice forbearance in false show.
Regarding the hermit, from Cologne to Oedenburg he straddled his donkey accompanied by the music of creaking wagons, errant knights, rabble beyond counting. On to Belgrade whose inhabitants wisely vanished. Seven days through the forest to Nish. One week later at Sophia here came envoys from Constantinople, from Emperor Alexius Comnenus, who greeted the hermit with respect. Peter wept for joy.
As rivers descend toward the sea, so did these pilgrims converge upon Constantinople, innocents looking to the Holy Land, crosses on their caps. It is said they were preceded by an army of locusts that ravaged vineyards but strangely ignored fields of grain. Soothsayers interpreted this to mean that Christians need not fear because they are symbolized by corn from which the bread of life is made. Saracens, however, would be annihilated because their nature is expressed by intermingling vines. Which is to say, Ishmaelites entangle themselves among the vices of Aphrodite, whom they call Chobar. They participate in orgiastic rites. Though they be circumcised their passion overflows. They copulate without shame like camels or goats. Is it not vindicable for servants of God to march against unholy pleasure?
Toward the kalends of August here came Peter the hermit with his untidy host that would gather palm fronds on the banks of the Jordan, heralded by starving locusts. What awaited him at Constantinople? Italians. Ligurians. Lombards. These and more who did not feel strong enough by themselves to challenge the infidel.
Emperor Alexius Comnenus warned them. Do not cross the Arm of Saint George, he explained. Do not cross the strait until your Frankish barons arrive, for the land opposite swarms with Turks. But these palmers, indifferent to his counsel, unaffected by the hospitality he showed, went about his city doing as they pleased and behaved with utmost insolence, affronting citizens. They set fire to public buildings, stole lead plates from the roofs of churches. So after a while Alexius changed his mind and ordered them to cross the strait.
Nicomedia on the eastern shore marked the end of Greek authority. Pagans ruled the land beyond. For two months this rabble loitered about Nicomedia and the port of Civetot, daily expecting news of Frankish armies, stealing from houses, churches, orchards and fields. Alexius, to dissuade them from returning, despatched ships loaded with barley, oil, wine, corn, cheese, whatever they might need. Still they dreamt of Jerusalem. Capricious, dissatisfied, they
