The entry before this one is dated May, 20, 2014, titled “Good cops and bad ones: Caesarea in 1101.” link
In 1101, the new Pope Paschal called for another wave of pilgrim fighters to go east. Some of them were fresh faces, including the Archbishop of Milan leading another disorganized crowd of poor men, but some were First Crusaders who had broken their vows. For this reason, it wasn’t called the Second Crusade by historians, rather the Crusade of the Faint-Hearted. The Second Crusade was still 45 years away.
Hugh of Vermandois, the French King’s brother, was one of the oath-breakers who now returned. Stephen of Blois, the deserter who had told the Emperor not to bother trying to rescue the Crusaders in Antioch, was another. His wife was the daughter of William the Conqueror; her brothers were now kings of England, and she couldn’t bear being married to a shamed oath-breaker.
William the Duke of Aquitaine came on this Crusade 1.2. He had skipped Crusade 1.0 because he did not yet have an heir; his son William was born the year Jerusalem was captured. His wife was Raymond of Toulouse’s niece and actually the rightful ruler, so while Raymond was gone, they captured Toulouse. Now, though, the Duke needed to raise money for Crusading, so he just mortgaged it back to Raymond’s son.
He was an incorrigible philanderer who, when he returned from the Holy Land, moved his mistress named Dangerosa (seriously) into the ducal palace, further humiliating the mother of his children (who had just seen her hometown/dowry tossed away for ready cash). He was also the first great troubadour whose work still survives. None of this matters for the Crusade, but he’s such a colorful character that he seems worth pointing out. In Crusade histories, we often run across people who are main characters in other stories.
The first tranche of new Crusaders fought their way across Turkey with the help of the Byzantine Emperor. They were trying to rescue Bohemund Prince of Antioch from a Danishmend-Turk yurt, but they didn’t succeed. The Turks united this time and won a grueling three-day battle, and the French prince Hugh died. Apparently, the entire Aquitainian army was killed, leaving only the Duke and a few companions to continue to Jerusalem.
Raymond of Toulouse joined them, and more new crusading nobles arrived. They were able to do a little good, capturing another much-needed port. But once they had arrived in Jerusalem for Easter, it looked like the fighting was over. Relieved to have their vows checked off, their honor rescued, and still alive, they set sail for Europe. But the winds turned, and some of their ships came back to Jaffa (the lucky Duke of Aquitaine got home).
In Jaffa, the stranded nobles got bad news: their swords were definitely needed again. A large Fatimid army under al-Afdal’s son was on the march from Ascalon, and King Baldwin was panicking. So Stephen of Blois, Hugh of Lusignan (Raymond of Toulouse’s half-brother), the Count of Burgundy, and Conrad Constable of Germany took their knights and turned back into the desert, with King Baldwin’s small contingent of knights.
The last time Baldwin faced this scenario, he had ridden against a Fatimid army that outnumbered him about 5 to 1, but carrying the True Cross relic, he had narrowly survived and at last prevailed. Assuming that the Fatimid army this time was merely a raiding party, he set out to attack again, instead of waiting for reinforcements from Raymond or Tancred. But this time, King Baldwin had made a tragic mistake. His 200 knights were engulfed by a full-scale field army, and there were almost no survivors.
After the first onslaught and as darkness fell, those still living made it into a small desert fort, but it was impossible to survive when morning came. During the night, King Baldwin and five knights escaped out a back gate. All of the men left behind were killed in battle, with one exception. Conrad, Duke/Constable of Germany, fought so ferociously outside the little fort that no Fatimids could come near him and survive. At last they offered him generous surrender terms, awed by his courage and skill. He was taken to Egypt and released.
Meanwhile, King Baldwin had a harrowing experience: alone, he tried to escape. A few miles away, he hid in a thicket of reeds, but the Fatimids set it on fire. His horse Gazelle was very fast and by dint of several days’ hiding and riding, they evaded Fatimid patrols. Baldwin tried to get back to Jerusalem, but there were too many enemies. Turning north, he made it to the port city of Arsuf, where he (and Gazelle, surely) collapsed.
In Arsuf, Baldwin was met by his Crusader Count of Tiberias with a small contingent of knights. He heard that the Fatimids were now besieging Jaffa but had not assaulted Jerusalem. Instant, unexpected action might be decisive. English legend has it that Baldwin was given a lift to Jaffa by an English pirate called Godric, who stayed in the Holy Land long enough to reform into St. Godric.
Queen Arda had been left in Jaffa for safekeeping with a tiny reserve force. This was the second time she found herself in this position; the previous year, in the First Battle of Ramla, she had been told that the king was dead. She had been reluctant to surrender, and it paid off: the king turned up the next morning with a small force, reporting that somehow they had won. But it was too much to ask for a second miracle of the same kind. The Fatimid commander found a dead Crusader who looked like Baldwin and began parading the mutilated remains around, calling out that the king was dead. Queen Arda could see no option but to surrender.
Just in time, St. Godric’s boat came into Jaffa harbor from the unexpected north, bearing the king himself. Legend gives him a shining banner that could be seen from afar, and the reinforcements from Tiberias came with him, of course. Small as their forces were, they fought Jaffa free of besiegers and saved the queen.
Somehow, the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem still hung on. As long as the king survived and no cities were actually taken, the Fatimid expedition had been a loss. Baldwin’s escape was not honorable, but his sheer tenacity at surviving alone, with his eventual rescue of Jaffa, restored his honor.