Bishop Adhémar, riven with plague, died at the kalends of August. Charitable, tolerant, modest, shrewd, wise in strategy, courageous, he ascended peacefully to the Lord. Such sorrow engaged the Christian host that few were able to comprehend their grief. Lord Bohemond vowed to carry the husk of this saintly bishop as far as Jerusalem, but after some argument he was laid to rest in the trench where the lance was found. Now by the helm of goodness does God Almighty rule, thus on the second night Bishop Adhémar was observed in the private chapel of Count Raymond standing next to Saint Andrew and Jesus Christ. The bishop was heard to speak.
Most gravely did I sin, for when the lance was discovered I withheld approval. For this I was led down into hell and punished. See how my beard and the side of my face are burnt. My soul writhed among flames from the hour it departed my weak body until my body was given to dust. There was I clothed in the garment you see, for when I received the order of the episcopate I bestowed it upon a poor man. And though the heat of Gehenna raged and ministers of Tartarus did their worst, no harm could they do beneath it. And nothing has been so precious to me as this candle that my companions offered, which restored me while I suffered in hell. Bohemond who is prince of Otranto would carry my body to Jerusalem, but let him not disturb me, for the blood of the Lord who accompanies me is there. And should Prince Bohemond doubt what I say, let him uncover my tomb that he may see my head and my face scorched. And let not my brothers on earth grieve that I am done with life since I shall dwell among you and prompt you better than hitherto. Bear in mind the castigations of hell. Serve God who redeems you from these and other evils. So much does the Savior grant all who embrace His precepts. Keep what remains of this candle in the morning and give a cloak of mine to the church of Saint Andrew.
Having spoken, Bishop Adhémar vanished. And when those in the chapel looked to where Lord Jesus stood they perceived an unwonted splendor.
Some argue this was diabolic work, saying Bartholomew cast a spell, for he is known to have taken offense at those who mocked him. Yet are we not privy to divine intervention? Bohemond demonstrated the sharpness of his knife by slicing a taper in half, only to see the unlit half miraculously light itself. How could such marvels obtain if not from the hand of God?
Withal, have we not met charlatans? Mountebanks who daub their foreheads blue or green with fruit juice and call themselves subject to heavenly supervision. Consider the abbot who burnt a cross on his body and claimed an angel put it there, flaunting his stigma before Antioch, who got himself named archbishop of Caesarea. Or those who shout with praise if clouds pile up to the likeness of sheep and bearded prophets. Or an old hag trailed by a white goose that waddled toward the altar at Cambrai, hence talk leapt quick as lightning that our Lord directed a goose to liberate the Holy City. Thus would pretenders lower our dignity as Christians.
How often are limbs, toes, portions, ungodly bones foisted on the credulous? How many fraudulent bargains sealed? Bishop Odo of Bayeux longed for the corpse of Saint Experius, paying one hundred pounds to the sacristan of the church that owned it. What did the sacristan do but dig up the carcass of a peasant called Experius. Now the bishop demanded an oath to prove he was buying the saint, to which the sacristan replied that he would swear these were the bones of Experius. As to his sanctity, the sacristan went on, I could not swear, Your Grace, since many who receive the title of saint are less than holy. By this cunning argument he assuaged the bishop’s doubt. Thus did peasant bones make their way to the altar of God. Or the bishop of Amiens who would house the bones of Saint Firmin in a new reliquary but found no letter nor anything to certify the wizened corpse. Still he would write on a lead plate that here lay Firmin the martyr. Enough. Enough. Let charlatans be punished for harmful inventions of the heart.
Eight months and a day did these Franks besiege Antioch, after which they themselves were shut up inside by Kerbogha for three unhappy weeks. After his defeat they rested five months and as the kalends of November approached they had not moved toward Jerusalem. Some in the army grew restless. Why, they asked their companions, do we not proceed toward the Holy Sepulcher? If the barons prove reluctant to lead us, then must we choose a valiant knight we trust. Is it the will of God that so many armed men should loiter? Let those who cherish the revenue of Antioch pocket it. Let us take the journey upon which we embarked. Let those who treasure Antioch flourish inside its walls, as those who recently held it plunged head downward to hell.
Now the high barons agreed it was time to march. They agreed to convene at the church of Saint Peter on the kalends of November whence all should depart for Jerusalem, the Holy City for which they hungered, toward which they had traveled so far. The duke of Lorraine while en route to Antioch with twelve knights was assaulted by a host of pagans. Yet these twelve acquitted themselves without fear, knowing they would prove victorious because their number equaled the number of apostles. Our Lord awarded them thirty dead, as many captive, while others fled howling to the swamp and drowned. Hence the duke of Lorraine proudly entered Antioch with captive Turks bearing the severed heads of comrades, a welcome sight.
When all were
