And the Lord, not unmindful, spoke to a cleric who was greatly terrified, Stephan Valanti. Where goest thou? inquired the Lord. I would flee, the cleric answered, lest unluckily I perish. Return, said the Lord. I will be merciful to the Franks in battle. They suffer because they have neglected my precepts. Let them repent their sins and they shall have victory. Let their trust in me endure. For I am the Lord.
Stephan Valanti returned full of shame and spoke to others.
Lambert le Pauvre and Guy de Troussel, illustrious men of rank, slipped down ropes, burning flesh from their hands. Also, William Carpenter, viscount of Melun, fled in disgrace. He was called the Carpenter because in battle he chopped down men like trees. Yet his reputation stood on boasting, he excelled more at words than deeds. Once before he took flight but Tancred pursued him and brought him back. All night he waited outside the court of Bohemond and next day faced the prince.
What sort of Carpenter have we? Bohemond asked. Has he worn out a thousand swords by the strength of his arm? In this fashion did Prince Bohemond mock the timorous viscount.
Altogether how many fled is not known. Some got to the seacoast where they clambered aboard vessels and slashed the anchor ropes, demanding that the crew hoist sail at once. Kerbogha, said they in fright. Kerbogha has come out from Mosul like the wind. Antioch has fallen, our barons murdered. By the help of Almighty God we escaped. Now while there is yet time let us quit this accursed place.
Others without pride sought to join the heathen, beseeching mercy, denying our gracious Lord and Savior, which is abomination.
What of Hugh, Comte de Vermandois? Some allege that he, like Stephen, fled before the battle opened. Others argue that he went to reproach Emperor Alexius at Constantinople and charge him with neglect, with failure to send help. It is known that Hugh loitered at the Byzantine capital showing little concern for the Holy City until he embarked to France, albeit he once declared he would not come home with breath in his body. Some say this great lord, goaded by the contempt of lesser men, retraced his steps toward Jerusalem. Perhaps. I neither deny nor avouch the truth of it.
Saracen chronicles relate how Kerbogha made sport of the Franks when he was shown an ancient sword flaked with rust, a wretched bow, a darkened lance taken from poor pilgrims. Kerbogha began to laugh. Would Christians armed with such shining instruments drive me past the boundaries of Chorosan? he asked. Such weapons could not strike a sparrow to the earth. And when he finished laughing he ordered a scribe to address the caliph.
To the Caliph, our Pope, our King, Lord Sultan, most valiant knight, greeting and honor immeasurable! Behold these arms we took from a squad of Franks. See how perfect they are. How fine. With such weaponry will the Orient be scourged?
In this wise did Kerbogha continue, asserting that he had shut up the Franks in Antioch like a bird caught in his hand, boasting he would lead them to harsh captivity or sentence them to death because they had threatened to expel him and cast him beyond upper India. By Mahomet, he swore, by the gods of every name, he would not return until he acquired the regal city of Antioch and all of Syria and Romania and Bulgaria even to Apulia. Yet these proud words by which he thought to earn praise would augment his disgrace. For as he soon would take wing from those he despised, to that extent was the humiliation greater. Who does not find ignominy easier to bear if defeated by a noble adversary? Just so, when the ignoble triumph, is not discredit doubled?
Anon here came Kerbogha’s mother who lived in the city of Aleppo, hurrying to ask, weeping, if what she heard was true. He answered that she knew the truth. Then she pleaded with him not to engage the Franks. In the book of Islam and in the book of the Gentiles, said she, it is found that a Christian host will come against us and conquer us and everywhere make our people subject. Miserable woman that I am, I have followed you from Aleppo where, gazing and contriving rhymes, I scrutinized the planets and stars and the twelve signs. In all I have seen the Christian host victorious, so I fear greatly that you will be taken from me.
Ah! said Kerbogha. Is not Bohemond mortal? Is not Tancred mortal? Do not these with their host of Franks at one meal eat two thousand heifers and four thousand pigs?
Bohemond and Tancred are mortal, she answered. But their God loves them and gives them valor. He has made heaven and earth and established the sea and prepared a dwelling throughout eternity. His might is to be feared.
Nevertheless I will fight them, Kerbogha said.
When his mother heard this she returned sadly to Aleppo with as many gifts as she could carry.
Three days afterward
