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Frankish kings were born, lived and died in the public eye of the vulgar, unlike the empireal Byzantine couple who withdrew into private chambers, and were approached by mighty servants, who prostrated themselves in the presence of majesty.
By way of comparison to the precise order of the emperor's court, Louis himself had taken a stick to beat his unruly courtiers into some sort of order when a riot began during a ceremonial in Paris to mark his departure for the East.
Not all the Crusaders, however, were so overwhelmed by their experience. Odo of Deuil - not enamoured of his Queen - seems to have been of the opinion that the great people had the wool pulled over their eyes by the Greeks, whom he regarded as shifty and decadent. He noted that the palaces of the great people overshadowed the slums inhabited by most of the population.
And he also noted that sections of the great walls around the city were poorly defended and indeed rotting, so that whole pieces collapsed before the critical eyes of the onlookers.
Constantinople, he suggested, was ripe for the plucking - an observation that was to come too sadly reality in the early years of the following century.5
Eleanor's encounter with the splendour of the world lasted only until the end of October.
By then, the Frankish army was once more on the march, Louis having been tricked by Manuel into believing that the German emperor had covered himself in glory during his advance into Turkey.
The French army crossed the Bosphorus into Asia: its members learned almost immediately that they had entered a new and far less pleasant world, and that the truth was far from what Manuel had led them to believe.
It was at the now infamous city of Nicaea that the Franks set up camp early in November, and the horrible reality began to intrude upon them.
The first stragglers that were the remnants of Conrad's army began to arrive. One of these was Frederick Barbarossa, later to become emperor in his turn, who told Louis and Eleanor the truth. The emperor had been defeated by the Turks and his army decimated.
Conrad was himself a fugitive, accompanied by only a few companions, and camping, ashamed, a short distance away.
Through the intermediary negotiations of Frederick, a conference was arranged, and Conrad and his men agreed to join the French army.6
The original line of march was abandoned. Conrad had tried to go straight through Asia Minor: the Turks had humiliated him. Now the monarchs moved circuitously around the coast, always within easy reach of Byzantine ports. The army pressed on, with the French in the lead, the Germans at the rear, and the women in the centre. Rigour and luxury were combined, the queen and her ladies taking shelter from the freezing winter weather in horse drawn litters, sleeping at night in painted beds set in open pavilions. Gone was the gaiety of the Hungarian plains, and the glittering palaces of Byzantium must have seemed a bright dream.
The army itself was hard pressed to maintain discipline, the French hurling insults at the remnant Germans, and Conrad fading with illness and despair, until eventually at Epheseus he left the march altogether and returned to Constantinople. Conrad and Manuel were united not only by their titles, but also through the ties of marriage. Irene was the sister of Conrad's wife, and Irene accompanied Manuel to Epheseus, where they persuaded Conrad to give up the crusade.
"...the emperor showed Conrad very great favour and, at the special request of the empress, lavished gifts upon him and his nobles most liberally."7
The French paused in Epheseus to recuperate from the march. Not all went on: Guy, Count of Ponthieu, an eminent military leader, was one of those who died there.
But the march had to continue.
At the river Meander they met their first serious opposition from the Turks. A sharp fight for the fords ensued, which the Franks won, ending the battle by plundering the enemy camp. That night, they made a pleasant camp amidst the green meadows on the river banks, flushed with battle and counting the rich spoils.
At dawn the journey began again.
In the wilderness, the proud crusaders were reminded once and for all of their mortal status before the almighty powers of nature.
On Christmas Eve, the army lingered in a pleasant valley close to the sea, making a camp to celebrate the nativity. As the travellers slept, and the priests rose to sing the morning service, a violent storm roared in, sweeping away the tents, and swelling the river instantaneously. The camp was deluged, and lives of humans and animals lost, as the baggage washed into the sea.
"The aspect of our tents, which the day before had been so gay, offered a desolating spectacle, showing how great is the divine power, how transitory the delights of men."8
DRAGGLED IN THE MUD
The army, despairing, all its finery lost or draggled in the mud, fled inland once more, clambering over a mountain ridge to the city of Laodicea. Alas, here they found the Greek commander of the city hostile to Franks and friendly to Turks. Their effort lost, the exhausted pilgrims had no choice but to follow their instincts, making their way on south as best they could. If at no other time, fear must having been taking over from rational thought as it became obvious that the journey was now all but beyond the control of the leaders.
It was, therefore, not unexpected that tactical mistakes would be made if the enemy was met, and one was. Most unfortunately, it was committed by the queen's vassal, Geoffrey de Rancon of Poitou, together with the king's uncle the Count of Maurienne. It was their task on a particular day in early January, as the army struggled through precipitous mountain passes near Attalia to conduct the march for that day. They were required to make camp with the vanguard on the top of a mountain, the ascent of which was the day's march. Geoffrey, however, decided to go on a little further once he had reached the summit.
But those behind were not informed of this change of plan, and so the whole army was put in grave danger.
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