During the second year of his reign Edessa fell to unbelievers. This noble city had been among the first captured by Franks and so it remained for half a century owing to thick walls capable of withstanding bombardment. Mercenaries had been engaged to defend it because the citizens were Armenian and Chaldean traders, which is to say merchants not given to combat. As for Count Joscelin II, he did not live in the city but amused himself at Turbessel castle.
Zengi, atabeg of Mosul, appeared in November leading a host of vermin. His engineers dug under the walls of Edessa, buttressed tunnels with vertical beams and joists, smeared animal fat, sulfur, and naphtha in crevices to nourish the flame. Because the Franks had been guilty of intolerable sin a breach opened near the Gate of Hours on Christmas eve. A north wind pushed thick smoke into the eyes of defenders. Citizens fled to the citadel for protection but found the gate barred. This happened because Archbishop Hugh went out to organize a defense and instructed guards to admit no one until he returned. Thousands pressed against the locked gate struggling to breathe while the garrison followed orders. How many died is not known. They say the mound of corpses rode higher than the gate. Archbishop Hugh was slain. If he fell beneath a Turkish sword or smothered in the crowd has been argued to this day. Elsewhere in the city aged priests felt the Turkish blade while chanting prayers and holding up relics of martyrs. Zengi commanded his men to stop. He noticed an old bishop of the Jacobite church dragged around naked at the end of a rope, inquired who he was and learned this was Basil, a Syrian. Zengi reproached him for defending the city.
It is all for the best, said this aged bishop.
Why so? Zengi demanded.
You have gained what you wanted, the bishop answered, you have conquered Edessa. As for us, we have gained your respect.
Zengi gave Basil a robe and invited him to discuss how the city should be administered since the bishop was courageous and could speak Arabic. Further, he commanded his men to return what they had stolen, including a pubescent girl seized by one of his emirs. Through such clemency he expected to reassure Christian cities and persuade them to surrender. He razed every Frankish church in Edessa, but did not molest those belonging to Greeks and Armenians. He appointed a governor, garrisoned the citadel with Turks, and moved on to attack Saruj.
The siege of Edessa lasted four weeks, during which time the youthful Count Joscelin did not step outside his castle at Turbessel. Archbishop William denounced him for sloth and cowardice, yet others say he had not men enough to challenge the Turk. He sent word to Antioch and Jerusalem, but help arrived too late. So the pride of northern Syria was lost.
Muslims say of Zengi that when he paused at some hospitable city he would reject offers to sleep comfortably inside the walls but would choose a tent among his men. They say the honor of women concerned him and he was heard to remark that wives of soldiers ought to be sequestered during long absences to preserve them from corruption. Theological schools flourished while he was atabeg, schools that counseled against frivolous books, lewd jokes, cavorting on swings, and the wearing of satin robes. When this fierce Turk laid siege to Baalbek the garrison surrendered after he swore on the Koran to spare them. What did he do but crucify every man, selling wives and daughters into slavery. The governor he flayed and burnt. As the words of a madman are understood with difficulty, or not at all, how should Christians understand this Turk? Some think he was part Austrian. They believe his mother was Ida, that famously beautiful margravine captured alongside the river Eregli and secluded in the harem of Zengi’s father. What none dispute is that Yaruqtash, a eunuch of Frankish descent, murdered him. They say Zengi drank too much wine and fell asleep. Some noise wakened him and he saw Yaruqtash furtively sipping from the imperial goblet. Zengi cursed him, vowed to punish him on the morrow, rolled aside in drunken sleep. Then the eunuch thrust a dagger into his bowels and rode away to Jabar. Almost at once the second son of Zengi, Nur al-Din Mahmud, entered the tent, withdrew the ring of authority from his father’s hand and placed it on his own. What afterward became of the eunuch Yaruqtash, chronicles do not relate.
News of Zengi’s death brought joy to Christian Syria. Now the timorous young Count Joscelin called up an army, thinking that with Armenian help he might overwhelm the Turkish garrison at Edessa and win back his capital. Jubilant Christians opened the gates at his approach. He slaughtered every Turk excepting a few in the citadel and quickly appealed to Jerusalem for help because Nur al-Din would hear about this soon enough. Not one Frankish soldier arrived from Jerusalem, nor Antioch, nor any Christian enclave.
What of Nur al-Din Mahmud? Swarthy, tall, with luminous eyes, a goatee or neatly sculpted little beard to accentuate his features. He carried two bows and two quivers stuffed with arrows when riding into battle, so impatient was he to kill Christians. He dressed roughly and seldom thought of comfort. His wife objected, complained about such austerity, so he gave her three shops in the city of Hims from which she might collect twenty dinars a year. She complained this was not much. No more do I have, said he, for I am but the custodian of Muslim wealth. Nor
