They arrived at some desolate village whose people wondered why they traveled without waterskins. Here the pilgrims learned how to make them and gave thanks.
Deeper in Saracen land they discovered a plant not unlike a reed that produced a sort of honey for which reason it was named canna mellis. They swallowed as much as they could, albeit this did not assuage their hunger. They killed donkeys to eat. They ate camels and dogs. Presently the autumn rain began to fall. Even as gold is thrice tried with fire and seven times purified, so were these servants of the Lord subjected to manifold torment. In their path stood a precipitous mountain, the route narrow and foreboding. None was anxious to go first. Pack animals were jostled or slipped and plunged screaming into the abyss. Those roped together dragged each other down. Valiant knights benumbed with cold lost hope and cast aside their shields.
At length our Savior rescued them from adversity and brought them to Marash, a settlement of Armenians in a fruitful valley where they obtained food.
It was here that Baldwin de Boulogne resolved to conquer Cilicia. They say he did not feel much need to visit the Holy Sepulcher but often spoke of governing a Turkish province. Therefore he commended his wife and children to the army of God, took five hundred mounted knights and two thousand sergeants afoot, and departed. Fifty leagues west he came to the city of Tarsus. But there he saw to his amazement the Norman banner of Tancred flying from every tower. Bohemond’s nephew with a small company of one hundred knights had captured the city. So, being furious, having more knights at his command, Baldwin charged Tancred to withdraw. Seeing the disadvantage and no help for it, Tancred led his knights away to besiege Adana. The monk Albert of Aix relates that during the night here came three hundred Normans expecting a welcome at Tarsus and Lord Baldwin did not unbolt the gate. He listened to every plea without hearing. Perforce these Normans camped outside the wall where Turks descended, cutting them to pieces. Many pilgrims held this against Baldwin.
When he returned to Marash he learned that his children were dead of plague and his beloved wife Godehilde, an English lady of noble birth, lay dying. Truly does a certain order embrace all things and whatever deviates unjustifiably must fall back into order, conscious of the retribution it has earned.
He found also that his brother Godfrey was gravely hurt while fighting a bear. Duke Godfrey had ridden into the woods for exercise and recreation when he heard someone cry for help and there was a pilgrim laden with firewood chased by the monster. Duke Godfrey rode to save him. Then the beast flung itself with teeth and claws against this enemy’s horse and clawed until it fell to the ground. Then with his left hand the duke clutched the bear and with the other hand plunged his sword hilt deep into the struggling animal, which roared and died. Yet it was a costly triumph, Godfrey stretched on the earth and blood leaking from horrible gashes. The pilgrim called for help so people came running. They put Godfrey on a litter and took him to camp where remedies were administered. Thus his life was saved, showing how the mercy of our Lord prevails.
Baldwin stayed at Marash just two days following the death of his wife. He had in mind to visit Edessa, a fortified city governed by a prince of Armenia named Thoros. This prince was extremely old and afraid of Turks. Some say he invited Baldwin to visit because he heard that Kerbogha, the atabeg of Mosul, had levied a vast army. Chronicles relate that Thoros, who was childless and much in dread of Kerbogha, proposed to make the Frank his son and heir. Baldwin for his part thought Edessa well worth owning. The voluptuous ritual of adoption looked alien to Frankish eyes. Baldwin, having removed his blouse, was instructed to creep inside the flowing blouse worn by Thoros. Thus concealed they rubbed their bodies as if they were lovers and the prince kissed him. Baldwin next performed this duty with the old princess.
Some conspiracy was hatched. Citizens objected that Prince Thoros failed to protect the harvest from brigands. Also, they said, they were taxed too much. By certain accounts Baldwin approved this revolt, seeing himself the legetary. However it was, Thoros came to him in great mistrust, saying he would escape with his old wife to Melitene. By the archangels and on the holiest relics Baldwin swore that his venerable head was not at risk, no matter if a crowd outside was howling for his death. Thoros abjectly offered his people the cross of Varak and the cross of Mak’enis, but they and the senators of Edessa shouted with one voice that he should not escape. He attempted to lower himself from the palace by a rope because he understood that nothing he might do would appease them. But the furious citizens shot him down with five hundred arrows and lopped off his head which they fixed on a spear to carry about the streets. That may be how it was. By other accounts the terrified old prince and his consort were each pulled apart, limb from limb, near the palace gate. Who can look through centuries of dust?
Baldwin, finding himself now count of
