Holy Warriors: A Modern History of the Crusades - Couverture souple

 The First Crusade and the Capture of Jerusalem, 1095-99


 "'A grave report has come from the lands around Jerusalem...that a race absolutely alien to God...has invaded the land of the Christians....They have either razed the churches of God to the ground or enslaved them to their own rites....They cut open the navels of those whom they choose to torment...drag them around and flog them before killing them as they lie on the ground with all their entrails out....What can I say of the appalling violation of women? On whom does the task lie of avenging this, if not on you?...Take the road to the Holy Sepulchre, rescue that land and rule over it yourselves, for that land, as scripture says, floweth with milk and honey....Take this road for the remission of your sins, assured of the unfading glory of the kingdom of heaven.' When Pope Urban had said these things...everyone shouted in unison: 'Deus vult! Deus vult!,' 'God wills it! God wills it!' "

In this vivid-and hugely exaggerated-language, as reported by Robert of Rheims, Pope Urban II launched the First Crusade at Clermont in central France in November 1095. Four years later, having endured a journey of astounding hardship, the self-proclaimed "Knights of Christ" arrived at Jerusalem. On July 15, 1099, the crusaders stormed the walls and put its defenders to the sword to reclaim Christ's city from Islam

 Pope Urban II and the Call to Crusade

 While nine hundred years later a distant descendant of Pope Urban's creation continues to cast its shadow on Christian-Muslim relations across the world, it is an irony that crusading was primarily intended to remedy problems within western Europe. As the head of the Catholic Church, Urban was responsible for the spiritual well-being of everyone in Latin Christendom. Yet Europe was beset by a variety of evils: violence and lawlessness were rife and Emperor Henry IV of Germany, the most powerful secular ruler, was, at times, an excommunicate, cast out of the Church because he had challenged papal authority.2 In Urban's mind, the fundamental cause of such chaos was a diminution of faith; it was his role to restore peace and stability. If this was to be achieved, spiritual concern would have to be blended with canny political calculation; perhaps to a modern audience the second of these elements sits a little uneasily on a man in his position, but to Urban the two were indivisible; as pope he did everything that was necessary to further God's work

It was Urban's genius that he conceived of a plan that offered benefits to the pope and to all of his flock. Perhaps he achieved this partly because of his family background: he was from the county of Champagne in northern France and was a man of noble blood. The combination of this high-born lineage and a successful career in the Church gave him a direct insight into the hopes and fears of the knightly classes, and this, in part, explains why crusading satisfied the aspirations of so many. He linked several ingredients familiar to medieval society, such as pilgrimage and the idea of a holy war against the enemies of God, with an unprecedented offer of salvation, a combination almost guaranteed to enthuse the warriors of western Europe

 To persuade people-in any age-to leave their homes and loved ones and to venture into the unknown, it is usually necessary to convince them that the cause is worthwhile. As many modern conflicts reveal, propaganda can play a vital part in a buildup to war. Pope Urban II's address at Clermont used highly inflammatory images to provoke moral outrage in his audience. The Muslims were described in language that emphasized their "otherness" and their barbarity toward innocent Christians. In reality, while it is true that pilgrims were occasionally maltreated, it was also the case that there had been no systematic persecution of Christians by the Muslims of the Holy Land for decades. Yet Urban's impassioned rhetoric demanded a response from the knights of France. He called for vengeance, a concept that was second nature to knights accustomed to correcting an injustice through force, supported by the weight of moral right. Through references to authorities on Church law, such as Saint Augustine, Urban and his circle of advisers constructed a case whereby violence could, in certain circumstances, be seen as a morally positive act.3 This required a just cause-usually it was a reaction to the aggression of another party, in this case the alleged atrocities committed by the Muslims. It needed proper authority to proclaim the war; and also right intention-that is, pure motives in a conflict of proportional, but not excessive, force. To these "just war" principles, crusading added the taking of a vow and an association with pilgrimage. Thus, because it was judged to be morally positive the crusade became an act of penance that merited a spiritual reward. Earlier attempts to restrict the violence that plagued eleventh-century Europe included the Peace of God movement in which the Church forbade fighting for a specific period of time under pain of ecclesiastical penalties. At Clermont, however, Urban urged the knights of France to cease their private wars and to begin a battle worthy of their noble status; to fight for God was to take service with the ultimate Lord, and to win forgiveness for their wicked lives was a prize immeasurably greater than any earthly riches could offer.

 Without doubt the violent warriors of the West had committed many acts displeasing to God and here Urban offered them a chance to avoid a terrible fate. Practically every church in the land had a sculpture or a fresco of hell: savage devils gouged out the eyes of screaming sinners; others were skinned or tortured with spears and pitchforks; impaled humans were roasted for eternity. The message from the Church was terrifyingly simple: there was no avoiding the consequences of sin; a knight, therefore, needed an escape route from Satan's fires. These same frescoes also showed heaven-a place of peace, tranquillity, and everlasting safety. Making pilgrimages and giving donations to monastic houses could help to avoid hell, but Urban brilliantly presented what one contemporary described as "a new way to attain salvation." The pope judged-correctly-that the crusade would be a sufficiently arduous experience to deserve the remission of all penance; in effect it would wipe the slate clean and all the vicious, violent misdeeds of the medieval warrior-or anyone who took part-would be cleared. As far as the knightly classes were concerned, the neatest aspect of all was that they could continue fighting-only now their energies were directed toward the enemies of God, rather than their fellow Christians. Thus, the cause in which they fought meant the Church now blessed their activities, rather than condemned them.

Those who wished to take part in the crusade had to make a public statement of their commitment in the form of a vow and being marked with the sign of the cross. Often amidst hugely emotional scenes, enthusiastic recruits would surge forward and demand to have a cloth cross pinned to their shoulder, desperate to bear the symbol that represented Christ's sacrifice and their own imitation of his suffering. Preachers adopted the words of Christ himself: "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me." If a crusader deserted his vows then he deserved eternal opprobrium; Urban "commanded that...he should forever be regarded as an outlaw, unless he came to his senses and undertook to complete whatever of his obligation was left undone."7 As an aside, the crusade also had the effect, temporarily at least, of bringing huge numbers of people under the control of the Church. Once again, we can see how Urban had found a way to enhance the standing of the papacy while offering something attractive to others.

 The call to free the Holy Sepulchre and the Christians of the East was shaped in a familiar form, namely, a pilgrimage. This was a fundamental feature of medieval life; the notion of turning to a saint for help was an everyday experience and people sought the assistance of these heavenly beings in health, harvests, fertility, protection, and forgiveness for sins. The presence of a saint was manifested by relics, parts of a saint's body, or objects associated with his or her life, that were believed to retain their holy power and to offer a conduit to divine help. The veneration of relics often required a journey and some saints became associated with particular causes: Saint Leonard of Noblat, for example, was the patron saint of prisoners. People in captivity prayed to him and when their incarceration ended they made a pilgrimage to Noblat (in central France) and, as a mark of gratitude, placed their chains on the church altar. While many pilgrimages were simply processions or visits to local churches, longer journeys to important shrines, such as that of Saint James at Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain, grew in popularity during the eleventh century. The ultimate pilgrimage destination was the Holy Land-the place where Christ had lived and died. Because He had ascended to heaven, there was no body to venerate and so the focus was on places touched by His presence and His death, most particularly His tomb, the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. The Holy Land, and this particular site above all, became the principal goal of the First Crusade. For the crusaders, a journey there deserved the greatest reward of all-the remission of all sins. This was integral to the hearts and minds of medieval man and the notion of regaining Christ's land for Christianity lay at the core of Urban's appeal.

 Even though the papacy advanced spiritual motives as the prime reason for the crusade it is clear that more worldly factors also played their part. Robert of Rheims's account (written c.1106-7) of Urban's speech pointed this up when he claimed the pope spoke of a land of milk and honey-an alluring prospect for people troubled by poor harvests and in search of a change fr...

'Original, fast-paced...history at its best' Kate Mosse, author of Sepulchre

'Phillips delivers an excellent, compelling, flamboyant and refreshing history of the crusades and wonderful character sketches' Simon Sebag Montefoire, Financial Times

'A totally absorbing and magnificent history' Boris Johnson, Mail on Sunday

Holy war: Christianity versus Islam. Brutality, greed, honour, chivalry, the clink of chain mail, the clatter of hooves, the call of the muezzin. Such are the stereotypical images of the Crusades. But how will do they fit with the reality?

In his remarkable book, Jonathan Phillips explores the conflict of ideas, beliefs and cultures and shows both the contradictions and diversity of holy war. He draws on contemporary writings - on chronicles, songs, sermons, travel diaries and peace treaties - to throw a brilliant new light on people and events we thought we knew well. Although the notion of fighting for one's faith fell into disrepute in the Enlightenment, Phillips traces the crusading impulse from the bloody conquest of Jerusalem in the First Crusade and the titanic struggle between Richard the Lionheart and Saladin up to the present day - to George W. Bush's characterisation of the war on terrorism as a crusade.

'Very readable. Its skilful and detailed use of source material serves as a showcase of what is being done in this, the most intensively studied area of medieval historiography' Literary Review