Now concerning Tafurs, abominable to man and God alike, these villains devoured human flesh not to assuage grumbling bellies but proclaimed it new manna that would sustain them till they entered the promised land of milk and honey. Therefore they sliced up pagan corpses to share with brethren a hideous sacrifice, thinking thus to reach the heavenly abode of God. And while the living host encamped at Maarat the bishop of Orange gained his just reward. So ended that providential year.
Before setting out to Jerusalem, for which they had pledged their lives, Count Raymond gave orders to burn Maarat. Raymond himself departed from Maarat barefoot, having vowed to approach the city of Jesus humbly.
Some few leagues south the host encamped by Hosn al-Akrad. And here came envoys from the learned emir of Tripoli, celebrated for prudence if not courage. He invited Count Raymond to discuss the conditions requisite for truce and friendship. He proposed that Count Raymond send ambassadors to make arrangements, bringing with them a banner of Toulouse, which might float above the city. This seemed good to Raymond, who sent three knights. But the magnificence of Tripoli addled the wits of these ambassadors. When they got back they counseled Raymond to besiege nearby Archas. By doing so, they explained, the emir of Tripoli will grow alarmed and will pay as much tribute as you wish.
Unwisely the host laid siege to Archas, which had been constructed by Aracaeus, son of Canaan, grandson of Noah. Because the pilgrims had grown proud they were unable to subjugate this stronghold. Sergeants proved indolent and useless. Many nobles relinquished the ghost, including Pontius of Balazun.
Lord Engelram, son of the Comte de Saint Paul, ascended to glory at Maarat, yet during the siege of Archas he manifested himself to Anselme de Ribemont.
How is it, Anselme wondered, that you whom I saw dying on the field of battle now stand before me filled with life?
You must know that those who fight in the name of our Lord do not die, said Engelram.
Whence comes this radiance surrounding you? said Anselme.
For answer the youth pointed upward. And when Anselme lifted his eyes he beheld a palace sparkling with crystal and diamond. There do I dwell, said Engelram. From that mansion derives the splendor that astonishes you. But a far greater dwelling has been provided for you. Tomorrow we shall meet. Farewell.
At these words Lord Engelram faded from sight. Anselme assured his comrades it was not a dream since he had been awake. They were amazed and speechless because they saw him unhurt, glorious in manhood. Next morning he sent for priests to confess his negligences and take the sacrament. Hours later the Turks sallied forth. Anselme de Ribemont went out from his tent to battle, sword in hand. A stone from a Turkish sling crushed his forehead. Thus perished a valiant knight holding up his gauntlet to God. His bones rest near Archas.
Now those suspicions concerning Bartholomew that took root in Antioch had surged beyond control, entangling adherents of Count Raymond with adherents of Bohemond. One believed in the holiness of the lance, another did not. Some argued openly what many privately thought, that Bartholomew had through sleight of hand buried and extracted a rusty bit of iron. All agreed that he who instigated the difficulty should put an end to it. Thus, Arnulf Malecorne, chaplain to the duke of Normandy, called upon the servant to undergo trial by fire.
I beg and wish that a large fire be made, Bartholomew replied angrily. I will pass through the flames while carrying the lance. I will pass through uninjured if this truly is the lance that wounded our Lord. If not, I will suffer.
It was thought this trial should occur on the day our Lord was pierced in the side. Accordingly two windrows of olive branches were heaped up stretching six times the length of a man’s body and a narrow passage between. On the appointed day countless pilgrims gathered, including numerous priests with bare feet. And when the fire blazed vehemently Raymond d’Agiles, who was chaplain to Count Raymond of Toulouse, held forth.
If Almighty God hath addressed this man, and if blessed Andrew hath revealed to him the lance, let him pass through unharmed. But if it be otherwise, let him suffer with the lance he carries.
Ancient documents say this olive wood burned so hot it scorched the air for thirty cubits. A bird flying overhead plunged headlong to death as testified by Ebrard the priest, by a son of William the Good, and by an esteemed knight from Béziers, William Maluspuer. Many others witnessed the falling bird. But then, as now, three credible witnesses suffice for any cause.
Bartholomew knelt before the bishop of Albara, calling upon God to verify that he had seen Jesus Christ face to face. When he was given the lance, wrapped in embroidered cloth, he stepped boldly toward the fire and entered without hesitation, pausing just once amid the flames, and emerged shouting with joy. Then a host of pilgrims rushed forward, each hoping to snatch a thread from his tunic. They overwhelmed him and trampled his backbone and he would have breathed out his soul but for a knight who pushed through the crowd to save him. This knight carried him to the house of chaplain Raymond. There he was asked why he paused in the fire, to which he replied that the Lord had met him, took him by the hand, and spoke.
Since thou wert afraid and doubted the finding of the lance when Saint Andrew first offered it, thou shalt not pass through unhurt. Neither shalt thou see hell.
Look therefore, Bartholomew admonished those attending him, and find how I am burnt.
They looked and observed one of his legs scorched. Others came to inspect his face and head and members, and when they found
