Scarcely had Godfrey, who, followed by fifty knights, had preceded his army, mixed with the combatants, when the sultan sounded a retreat and retired to the heights, where he hoped the Crusaders would not dare to follow him. The second body of the Christian army soon arrived on the plain smoking with the blood of the Christians. The Crusaders, recognising their brothers and companions stretched in the dust, became impatient to revenge their death, and with loud cries demanded to be led to the fight. Even the combatants who had been fighting from morning, now would not hear of repose. The Christian army immediately formed in order of battle. Bohemond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy, placed themselves on the left; Godfrey, the count of Flanders, and the count of Blois led on the right wing. Raymond commanded the centre, and the rear-guard, or body of reserve, was placed under the orders of Adhémar. Before the leaders gave the word, the priests passed among the ranks, exhorting the Crusaders to fight manfully, and giving them their benedictions. The soldiers and the leaders, drawing their swords, and threatening the enemy, cried with one voice, “It is the will of God! It is the will of God!” and this animating war-cry was repeated by the echoes of the mountains and the valleys. At length the Christian army advanced, marching full of confidence against the Turks, for whom the rocks and the hills appeared to be a sure place of refuge.
The Saracens remained motionless on the mountains, and had apparently exhausted their arrows. The nature of the ground did not allow them to perform their rapid evolutions or pursue their usual tactics. Neither were they animated by the hopes of victory; but, in an attitude which expressed fear, they awaited their enemies in silence. The count of Thoulouse, who attacked them in front, broke through their ranks at the first charge. Tancred, Godfrey, Hugh, and the two Roberts, attacked them on their flanks with the same advantage. Adhémar, who had gone round the mountains, directed his attack upon the rear of the enemies, and completed the disorder. The Saracens found themselves surrounded by a forest of lances, and became only solicitous to secure safety by escaping over the rocks and through the woods. A great number of emirs, three thousand officers, and more than twenty thousand soldiers, lost their lives in the battle and the flight.
The camp of the enemy, which was at two leagues’ distance, fell into the hands of the Crusaders. The conquerors there found abundance of provisions, magnificently ornamented tents, immense treasures, all sorts of beasts of burthen, and above all, a great number of camels. The sight of these animals, which were then unknown in the West, caused them as much surprise as joy. They mounted the horses of the Saracens, to pursue the remains of the conquered army. Towards nightfall they returned to their camp loaded with booty, preceded by their priests, singing hymns and canticles of thanksgiving. Both leaders and soldiers had covered themselves with glory in this great conflict. We have named the principal leaders of the army; historians point out many more, such as Baldwin of Beauvais, Galon de Calmon, Gaston de Béarn, Gerard de Chérisi, all of whom signalized themselves by exploits, says William of Tyre, the remembrance of which will never perish.
The day after the victory the Crusaders repaired to the field of battle for the purpose of burying the dead. They had lost four thousand of their companions, and they paid them the last duties in tears; the clergy offered up their prayers for them, and the army honoured them as martyrs. They soon, however, passed from funeral ceremonies to transports of the wildest joy. On stripping the Saracens, they quarrelled for their blood-stained habits. In the excess of their delight, some of the soldiers would put on the armour of their enemies, and clothing themselves in the flowing robes of the Mussulmans, would seat themselves in the tents of the conquered, and, with imitative gestures, ridicule the luxury and customs of Asia. Such as were without arms took possession of the swords and crooked sabres of the Saracens, and the archers filled their quivers with the arrows which had been shot at them during the fight.
The intoxication of victory, however, did not prevent their doing justice to the bravery of the Turks, who, from that time, boasted of having a common origin with the Franks. Contemporary historians, who praise the valour of the Turks, add, that they only wanted to be Christians to make them quite comparable to the Crusaders. That which, otherwise, proves the high idea the Crusaders entertained of their enemies, is, that they attributed their victory to a miracle. Two days after the battle, says Albert of Aix, although no one was pursuing them, the infidels continued flying, exclaiming as they went, “It is the will of God! It is the will of God!” After the victory, the Christian army invoked the names of St. George and St. Demetrius, who had been seen, as they said, fighting in the ranks of the Christians. This pious fable was accredited among both the Latins and Greeks. A long time subsequent to the victory, the Armenians erected a church in the neighbourhood of Dorylæum, where the people were accustomed to assemble on the first Friday of March, and believed that they saw St. George appear on horseback, lance in hand.
Whilst the Crusaders were felicitating themselves on their victory, the sultan of Nice, who did not dare again to encounter the Christians in the field, undertook to desolate the country which he could not defend. At the head of the wreck of his army, and ten thousand Arabs who had joined him, he preceded the march of the Christians, and laid waste his own provinces. The Turks burnt the harvests, pillaged the cities, the bourgs, and the houses of the Christians, and carried away in their train the wives and children of the Greeks, whom they detained as hostages. The banks of the Meander and the Caïster, Cappadocia, Pisidia, Isauria, and all the country as far as Mount Taurus, were given up to pillage, and entirely laid waste.
When the Crusaders resumed their march, they determined not to separate again, as they had done on entering Phrygia. This resolution certainly rendered them safe from surprise or hostile attack, but it exposed so numerous an army to the risk of perishing by famine and misery in a country devastated by the Turks.[81] The Christians, who marched without forethought, and were never provisioned for more than a few days, were not long before they felt the want of food. They found nothing on their route but deserted fields, and soon had no other subsistence but the roots of wild plants and the ears of corn which had escaped the ravages of the Saracens. By far the greater number of the horses of the army perished for want of water and forage.
Most of the knights, who were accustomed to look with contempt on foot-soldiers, were obliged, like them, to march on foot, and carry their arms, the weight of which was enough to exhaust them. The Christian army presented a strange spectacle—knights were seen mounted on asses and oxen, advancing at the head of their companies; rams, goats, pigs, dogs, every animal they could meet with, was loaded with baggage, which, for the most part, was left abandoned on the roads.[82]
The Crusaders then traversed that part of Phrygia which the ancients called “burning Phrygia.” When their army arrived in the country of Sauria,[83] they endured all the horrors of thirst, of which the most robust soldiers could not resist the terrible power. We read in William of Tyre, that five hundred perished in one day. Historians say that women were seen giving premature birth to their offspring in the midst of burning and open fields; whilst others, in despair, with children they could no longer nourish, implored death with loud cries, and, in the excess of their agony, rolled naked on the earth in the sight of the whole army.[84] The authors of the time do not forget to mention the falcons and birds of prey which the knights had brought with them into Asia, and which almost all perished under the burning sun. In vain the Crusaders called for a repetition of the miracles which God had formerly wrought for his chosen people in the desert. The sterile valleys of Pisidia resounded during several days with their prayers, with their complaints, and perhaps, likewise, with their blasphemies.
In the midst of these burning countries they at length made a discovery which saved the army, but which was very near becoming as fatal to them as the horrors of thirst.
The dogs which had followed the Crusaders had abandoned their masters, and wandered over the plains and into the mountains in search of a spring.[85] One day several of them were seen returning to the camp with their paws and their hides covered with moist sand, and it was judged that they had found water. Several soldiers observed their track, and discovered a river. The whole