At Philippopolis a company of Germans from Conrad’s army went to loiter in taverns and drank and made noise. A juggler who did not know their language sat down with them and paid his share and began to drink. Presently he drew out of his jacket a snake and set down a glass, laid the viper on top and began to perform conjuring tricks. But the Germans flew into a rage because his tricks did not satisfy them. They pounced on him and tore him apart. Or it may be the Germans accused him of sorcery, saying he had been hired to kill them with poison. This brought the governor of Philippopolis to investigate. Now the Germans, excited from wine and fury and thinking they would be punished for murdering the juggler, hurled themselves at the governor’s men. This brought other men with bows who killed several Germans and drove off the rest. But they came back freshly armed and set everything on fire.
At the money exchange near Constantinople some Fleming lost his wits before unimaginable wealth, seized what he could and rushed about shouting wildly for his comrades to do the same. Gold and silver trampled in the mud, screams of rage, tables upside down what with vendors and pilgrims running back and forth. The count of Flanders remanded this unruly soldier to King Louis, to be flogged with rods or burnt, as the sovereign chose. King Louis had him hanged in public. Further, everything stolen must be returned, delivered to the bishop of Langres. What could not be recovered the king himself would make up.
Some days afterward this army crossed the Arm of Saint George, invading Turkish land. Duke Frederick of Swabia, who was the emperor’s nephew and heir, came riding into camp and told what happened. Not much of Conrad’s turbulent host survived. They were swollen with hubris.
Beyond Laodicea on mountainous slopes fouled by German corpses the army of King Louis was assaulted. Turks high above them on a narrow pass shot arrows and sent tree trunks and stones rolling down to crush them. Sumpter beasts went mad with fright, pressed against one another, reared and plunged, fell screaming into the abyss. At every death the vile Turks rejoiced. Many pilgrims who left home and family for the sake of Jesus Christ found martyrdom at this snowy pass. Documents do not explain how it was that King Louis got separated from the imperial guard. However it came about, he attempted to climb a slope by clutching roots that God exposed to ensure his safety. Turks pursued him. Archers from a distance shot arrows at him. But he was protected from arrows by his cuirass and with his sword he cut off the hands of those who tried to capture him. Yet the valor of King Louis was not enough. His efforts bore dry fruit. After this defeat he relinquished command to Everard, third Master of the Temple, and made his way seaward to Attalia, whence he journeyed to Antioch. I have heard he got to Jerusalem where he stayed a while, long enough to celebrate Easter. At last, yielding to the importunity of Abbot Suger, he returned to France. So ended a wretched pilgrimage where once they had thought to subjugate Damascus. The vices of this army drew our Lord’s wrath, according to the bishop of Freysinghen. Yet another cleric, Geoffroi of Clairvaux, declared the result no less than favorable since this endeavor populated heaven with a throng of illustrious martyrs.
Some disparaged King Louis, saying he acted against the counsel of Prince Raymond of Antioch. They said he wished to humiliate Prince Raymond whose conduct toward the king’s wife provoked whispers. Thus we see how things that are one become several through the aims of human perversity.
As for Abbot Bernard who prophesied success, he addressed a letter to His Holiness Eugenius.
Most Holy Father, we have fallen upon grave times. The Lord, provoked by our sins, forgetful of His mercy, has laid low in the desert many of His children, cut down by the sword or depleted by famine. Therefore some call us immoderate. Yet I did not proceed like a man who questioned his goal, since I have acted with the authority of God as decreed by you. And the judgment of God is true indeed. Who does not know that? How, then, should anyone reprove what exceeds all comprehension? When Moses wished to lead his people out of Egypt, he promised them a better land. If he had not, would they have followed? He led them, but he did not lead them to the land he promised. Yet he acted at the Lord’s command. Who does not know that? How, then, should it fall incumbent upon me to justify what befell the host? Would anyone say that the fate of those lost in the desert was contrary to our Lord’s promise? These few matters I invoke, most Holy Father, since the perfect and ultimate apology for any man must be the testimony of his conscience.
God’s kingdom Outremer now manifestly decayed. The fruit of barons and high lords withered. With delight Saracens mocked the crumbling pediment of Christian enterprise, with impunity looked toward those whose names once had riven them with fright. Their boldness rose proportionately.
Nur al-Din raised a fearful army to pick apart the castles. He resolved to invest the fortress of Inab. This news brought Prince Raymond furiously out of Antioch with not enough men, but narratives from those days call
