Presently they reached the castle of Emmaus where a bold plan was conceived. Tancred and Baldwin du Bourg rode ahead. Before daybreak they passed Jerusalem and rode on to Bethlehem. Greeks and Syrians who lived there at first mistook them for Turkish cavalry, perhaps Egyptians who had come to defend the Holy City, but when it became clear from crosses on their mantles that here were Frankish knights the citizens of Bethlehem wept for joy. They held up rosaries and banners and crosses. They kissed the hands of Tancred’s followers and sang hymns, praying that the hour of deliverance had arrived when Christianity would prevail against those who threatened it.
These intrepid Franks made haste to visit the basilica of Our Lady where they offered supplications. They visited the place where Christ was born. Tancred by himself rode two leagues nearer Jerusalem and dismounted on a height from which he could see the Holy City. To his eyes and within his mind surely it appeared as it once appeared to Saint John the Divine, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of God, more luminous than crystal, within a mighty wall having twelve gates where angels waited. Chalcedony, amethyst, emerald, jasper, topaz, of such were the foundations garnished, all manner of precious stone, and twelve gates made of pearl. And the streets were gold. And the city had no need of the sun nor of the moon, for it was lightened by the glory of God. Tancred is thought by many to have stood on the Mount of Olives.
Before returning to join the Christian host Tancred set his banner above the church of the Nativity as though it were a lodging house, which moved some to anger.
Albert of Aix reports in his chronicle how the nearness of Jerusalem excited these pilgrims. Few could sleep. Indeed, rather than await the dawn they resumed the march shortly after midnight. And they saw the power of the Lord manifest because the moon sank into eclipse, foretelling the eclipse of the pagan crescent.
At sunrise they could see minarets, domes, towers, and white houses of the city that hitherto they had seen only in their hearts. Many knelt to pray. Others wept, screamed, hurled themselves face down with arms outstretched to kiss the earth. Jerusalem, they could see, did not compare with Constantinople or Antioch, but not for quotidian profit did they undertake this journey.
Eight days before the ides of June they encamped. And because they had need of wood to construct siege engines the barons despatched foraging parties. Tancred accompanied them, though ill with flux and often obliged to seek privacy. Once while voiding himself he looked into a cave and saw four hundred timbers, which seemed miraculous. He shouted to his companions. Now they were able to erect ballistas, mangonels, trebuchets, wheeled castles, wooden sows that they protected with hide, mantlets, and other devices. With tent rope, olive branches, and palm stems they assembled scaling ladders.
At last, hearing in its soul a thunderous command, the boundless army of God advanced. Count Robert of Flanders laid siege near the church where Saint Stephen was stoned to death in the name of Christ. Duke Godfrey laid siege from the west, a gold image of our Lord affixed to his catapult. Count Raymond attacked from the south near the church of Saint Mary. All this through the lawful covenant of things.
Arrows descended like hail from the ramparts of Jerusalem, yet no less terrible were those enemies long familiar to the host, starvation, thirst. By direction of Iftikhar, who governed the city, fresh water springs had been concealed or muddied, nearby cisterns poisoned. Shepherds were instructed to drive their flocks away. Christians whose families had lived for centuries in Jerusalem were expelled, told to scavenge what food they could and drink what water they found. It is related that some few inhabitants of Thecus or Bethlehem came to visit the host and led pilgrims to water, but there was not enough. The Pool of Siloam where a blind man regained his sight had not been poisoned, although Turkish arrows reached that far and the spring replenishing this pool flowed weakly. Once, they were told, the water flowed each Saturday yet otherwise lay stagnant, which could not be explained except that our Lord so commanded. People of the region used this water for washing clothes and tanning hides. The Franks in desperation crowded together, the strong thrusting aside the feeble as they fought toward a juncture in the rock whence trickled a salty liquid. Sick or dying pilgrims fell, unable to speak, mouths open, stretching out their hands. Beasts in the field stood like creatures made from stone, fell down and rotted. The smell of death corrupted day and night and a burning wind tormented all. The Gesta relates how pilgrims sewed ox hides together by means of which they carried fresh water several leagues. But the water putrefied, turned rank, fetid, loosened the bowels. And the watchful Turk, noticing how groups went unarmed to watering places among the hills, rose up to slaughter them and dismember the bodies. During this chastisement few felt mindful of the Lord nor took heed to beseech His grace, so in their agony they could not recognize God amid them.
Now all at once came news of two Genoese galleys anchored at Joppa, captained by the brothers Embriaco, and four English ships. Since the port lay half in
