77 Chapter 5: The False Holy War

And we do not command or advise that the old or feeble, or those unfit for bearing arms, undertake this journey; nor ought women to set out at all, without their husbands or brothers or legal guardians. For such are more of a hindrance than aid, more of a burden than advantage.

-The Speech of Urban II at the Council of Clermont according to Robert of Rheims

Kelts assembled from all parts, one after another, with arms and horses and all the other equipment for war. Full of enthusiasm and ardour they thronged every highway, and with these warriors came a host of civilians, outnumbering the sand of the seashore or the stars of heaven, carrying palms and bearing crosses on their shoulders . . . like tributaries joining a river from all directions, they streamed towards us in full force.

-Anna Komnenos, the Alexiad [quotes read by Her Half of History]

If access to resources is the greatest driver of human action, passions cannot be far behind. For this reason those who desire power must control both. It is not enough to have wealth and titles; political and religious leaders must exercise some control over the feelings of those they rule over. The ability to inspire countless individuals to come together for a common purpose can change the world. In contrast, when those in power fail to measure their people’s sentiments they risk being overthrown.

When Pope Urban II declared The First Crusade he appealed to a number of feelings that were widespread in France. His audience felt sorrow when he spoke of their own societal divisions. When he mentioned a great Islamic threat they felt a sense of foreboding as they remembered the Iberian invasions of southern France in the 8th and 10th centuries, then glory in their people’s martial brilliance at repulsing these attacks. Finally, they must have felt a sense of imminent, unparalleled triumph when His Holiness declared that God himself would guide their efforts, ensuring Jerusalem for the living and paradise for those who died fighting.

Urban II’s speech had a greater impact than he could have imagined, or even desired. His short-term goal was to raise a fighting force capable of saving the Eastern Roman Empire. In the long-term, he hoped to develop a spirit of continual Christian warfare against non-believers for the purpose of turning interfaith violence outward, defending Christendom, and expanding Christian-controlled territory. If His Holiness used the lure of the Holy Land and Jerusalem it is doubtful that he believed armed pilgrims would take it anytime soon. Yet, his call to arms turned the many disparate streams of passion within France into one torrential river. Urban II had likely suspected that thousands of knights would march east. Instead, the Count of Flanders and five great lords of France raised tens of thousands of armed soldiers. Meanwhile, non-combatants outnumbered the trained fighters by at least four-to-one.

Why did the people of France respond with such overwhelming enthusiasm? The French chroniclers held that their people heeded the call to a divinely-ordained mission. Guibert of Nogent wrote, “We see nations moved by the inspiration of God.... The highest offices of government, the lordships of castles or cities were despised; the most beautiful wives became as loathsome as something putrid; the lure of every jewel, welcome once to both sexes as a security, was spurned. These men were driven by the sudden determination of totally changed minds to do what no mortal had ever been able to urge by command or achieve by persuasion.... What can this universal response be except an expression of that plain goodness which moved the hearts of the most numerous peoples to seek one and the same thing?”

No doubt religious passions played a huge role in the decision to abandon home and hearth in favor of a foreign war halfway across the known world. Religious sentiment was enormously important in medieval life, nowhere moreso than France. Due to the Carolingian monarchs, French churches and monasteries were widespread and among the most influential in Christendom. The kingdom had well-developed cults to its many saints. The constant threat of Islamic attack from Iberia was a consistent source of religiously-based tension. Simultaneously, French military victories over Muslims became a part of French identity as the Carolingians styled themselves and their people as defenders of Christianity. In the decades before and after the year 1,000 many in France were swept up in a millenarian panic. These deep-seated spiritual predilections and the promise of absolution stirred multitudes to the holy war.

Aside from religious sentiments there was a sense of adventure that gripped France, particularly in the north. Early that century the poor sons of lesser nobility traveled to southern Italy to serve as mercenaries for Lombards and Byzantines. Yet, the Normans became so adapt at warfare that by 1091 they ruled the southern half of the peninsula and Sicily, the jewel of the Mediterranean. There the once-obscure Hauteville family ruled as counts and dukes. Hauteville conquests inspired still others to travel abroad for fortune and glory in Iberia and the Eastern Roman Empire. Late 11th century France was a romantic period as poets spread tales of knights going on adventures to exotic lands, in works that would eventually become chivalry.

Eleventh-century French people liked of think of themselves as the main character of a heroic romance, much like French people today. However, some contemporary Germans dismissed the French as an impoverished and beleaguered country whose people tried to disguise their faults with grandiose delusions, much like Germans do today. Chronicler Ekkehard of Aura wrote that French people’s lives were so bleak in 1096 that there was nothing keeping them from joining the holy war. He wrote that France, “had been afflicted for some years, sometimes by civil war, sometimes by famine, sometimes by an excessive death-rate. Finally a -plague . .. had terrified the people to the point at which they despaired of life.... Of other nations or persons not covered by the papal edict, some confessed that they had been summoned to go to the Promised Land by certain prophets recently arisen among them or by signs in the heavens and revelations; others were compelled to take such vows by all kinds of personal disadvantages. In fact many of them were burdened on the journey with wives and children and all their domestic goods.”

Religious fervor, martial glory, poverty, a chance at a better life if they survived and eternal life if they died along the way became the motivators of the First Crusade. Passions and problems drove well over one hundred thousand to take up the cross. The Pope had hardly finished raising soldiers for France when he embarked on a letter-writing campaign to keep non-combatants from joining the holy war. If Urban II believed in God, he lacked faith in mere peasants to overwhelm the Turks and Arabs.

The pope’s call to holy war was understandably popular with the clergy. While the pope accepted that some holy men should go to hear confessions and act as spiritual guides, he worried that too many leaving their posts would weigh down the armies. In a letter to the monks of Vallombrosa Urban II chided those brothers preparing to travel, saying,

“We have heard that some of you want to set out with the knights who are making for Jerusalem with the good intention of liberating Christianity. This is the right kind of sacrifice, but it is planned by the wrong kind of person. For we were stimulating the minds of knights to go on this expedition, since they might be able to restrain the savagery of the Saracens by their arms and restore the Christians to their former freedom: we do not want those who have abandoned the world and have vowed themselves to spiritual warfare either to bear arms or to go on this journey; we go so far as to forbid them to do so. And we forbid religious-clerics or monks-to set out in this company without the permission of their bishops or abbots in accordance with the rule of the holy canons.”

Furthermore, when Urban II heard that the abbot of the monastery of St. Reparata planned to abandon his position the pope threatened to excommunicate him.

Urban II did not just bar peasants and priests from joining the holy war: he also had to dissuade Iberian Christians from leaving Tarragona. While His Holiness envisioned holy war as a broad struggle across multiple fronts and centuries, most Christians wanted a quick, finite war to bring personal salvation and the end of days. Given that the Holy Land was, well, holy, and that Jerusalem was the holiest of holies it is understandable that some knights in Iberia wanted to fight in the east, especially those mercenaries who had no particular love or loyalty to mountainous areas they were then encamping in. In a letter to the Christian counts of Spain, the pope implored them not to abandon the recently-reconquered bishopric of Tarragona. He then exclaimed that the Iberian conflict against Islamic forces was just as holy as the upcoming eastern war. Finally, he ensured every knight that they would receive salvation if they died fighting God’s enemies, whether in Europe or Asia.

Urban II was not alone in his efforts to restrain people from joining the holy war. Across France and beyond, bishops and abbots struggled to keep their subordinates in place. When they weren’t dealing with their own troublesome priests they were instructing non-combatants not to burden the armies. In one delicate situation the bishop of Toulouse had to dissuade the wealthy and powerful noblewoman Emerias of Aleias from leaving. This was particularly awkward given that she had already stitched a cross onto the right shoulder of her clothing and vowed to march to Jerusalem. Yet, the bishop eventually persuaded her to remain in Provence and open a hospice for the poor.

Even as most laypeople were forbidden from joining the armies, virtually any professional soldier was allowed to fight. In one instance, three knights from Mézenc declared their intention to march. Their declaration drew considerable public outrage from the monks of Le Chaffre, who the knights had regularly abused. The case went before the bishops of Le Mende and Le Puy, who listened to witness testimony and were, “astonished by their cruelty.” (Peter Frankopan, The First Crusade: The Call from the East, 2012.) Nevertheless, the bishops forgave them of their sins and accepted their service. Only the most heinous of crimes would disqualify professional soldiers from joining the cause; perhaps not even those.

The country-wide efforts of pope, priests and nobles to control their people was an abject failure. The passions that his Holiness unleashed could not be contained. When the armies of the great magnates met in Constantinople they numbered perhaps 80,000, with only half being professional soldiers. Yet, an even larger host, potentially numbering up to 150,000 at its largest, was comprised overwhelmingly of peasantry. This pilgrimage of the downtrodden, often armed with little more than farming equipment and simple weapons, was led by a northern mystic from Amiens named Pierre.

Known far and wide as ‘the Hermit,’ Pierre occupied a unique religious space. His views never strayed far enough from church dogma to earn condemnation for heresy though they likely kept him from being promoted to higher positions in the church hierarchy. Simultaneously, his unorthodox lifestyle awed those who met him. He wore a simple wool shirt and linen tunic, was known to walk barefoot and abstained from meat and bread. His apparent humility, combined with impassioned oratory made him a popular figure among laypeople, even as he was passed over for promotion by the priesthood.

Anna Komnenos claims that earlier in his life Pierre traveled to Jerusalem on a pilgrimage. While there he spoke to the locals who told him about all sorts of atrocities committed by the Turks against Christians. Pierre reportedly said that if only Europeans knew of their fellow believers’ suffering then they hasten to their aid. However, historians are unsure whether the Eastern Emperor’s daughter received false information or if Pierre simply made up the whole story. Whether or not Pierre traveled to the Holy Land, when the pope announced the holy war the hermit enthusiastically spread the word. Unlike the pope, the northern mystic did not forbid anyone from joining the rapidly-swelling numbers of his entourage. Many, who otherwise would have been left behind, joined his host. Peasants, clergy, women, elderly, infirm, young, criminals, prostitutes and all those who dreamed of salvation were welcomed within the movement.

The vast majority of the migration were poor farmers, entirely untrained in warfare, though a number of knights and soldiers joined the expedition. The most notable was Gautier Sans-Avoir. In English his name would be, “Walter the Have-Not,” though historians have traditionally translated it as ‘Walter the Penniless.’ Funnily enough, this is a common misunderstanding; his moniker Sans-Avoir was not because he was poor but because he was the lord of the small region known as Boissy-sans-Avoir; that, and his family motto was ‘Sans avoir Peur,’ ‘Those without fear.’ If Gautier did not have any pennies it was because that was commoners used, while his pockets were stuffed with livres. Yet, Gautier was still a minor lord, who would have been relegated to an irrelevant position in the armies of the great magnates. Driven either by true religious passion or a desire to further himself, the knight from Sans-Avoir joined the multitude, becoming Pierre’s second-in-command.

Pierre’s enormous host of faithful was overflowing with spiritual energy but severely lacking in organization. In April, a full four months before the great lords’ armies began their trek, The Hermit, the Have-Not and the other leaders pushed their people across the Rhine. Pierre spread his message throughout the Kingdom of Germany until his following grew to over 100,000. This was a stunning figure for the time; there were more people in Pierre’s host than in any single city in Europe, save only Constantinople, Córdoba and possibly Palermo. In fact, no city north of the Pyrenees or the Alps mountain ranges had half that number. Pierre and his fellows must have thought that surely a host of such magnitude could conquer all the way to Jerusalem through sheer size alone.

Had Pierre been schooled in logistics he would have known that an army’s size in battle is among its greatest strengths but on the march it is its greatest weakness. As one future Corsican general allegedly said, “An army marches on its stomach.” Initially, Pierre’s host survived off of donations by the Rhineland’s Jews, who were more than willing to pay whatever it cost to send the unruly warriors of Christ far, far away. Their money only lasted so long, particularly as Pierre insisted on stopping to preach to locals along the way.

The host’s slow pace troubled Gautier. He likely recognized that the masses would starve before reaching the Balkans, let alone Jerusalem. The knight led thousands to break off from the main body and sped ahead of them. Gautier was not the only deserter. Some within the host lost their initial fervor and returned home. Others turned inward, viewing their greatest enemies as the Jews within Germany rather than the Muslims in distant countries. To keep his host from disintegrating entirely Pierre cut his sermons short and urged his followers to march towards their salvation.

A true army is made up of discipline, recognized authority and the resources needed to complete a mission. A common purpose and enthusiasm cannot make up for empty bellies. Pierre lost control of his host even before they left Germany. His people engaged in a pogrom in Regensburg, killing many of the Jewish population. Though the Christians justified this as vengeance against Christ’s killers, it was likely that they wanted to steal clothes, food and wealth needed to continue on, though some used the pilfered goods to pay for their trip back home.

When Gautier passed over into Hungary, King Coloman gave him a cordial, though not enthusiastic welcome. Coloman was naturally wary of thousands of armed pilgrims travelling through his realm and wanted to prevent any violence from occurring before they passed over into Bulgaria. The Hungarian King allowed the French to trade and travel freely, though he did not provision them. In this manner, Gautier’s host reached a border city now known as Zemun.

Most of the Western pilgrims crossed the river into Bulgaria without incident. However, 16 men remained in Zemun, ostensibly to purchase arms. The Hungarians recognized that the few French could not stand against them. They stole everything from the pilgrims and hung the spoils from the walls of the city as trophies, leaving their victims to flee naked after the rest of their large company.

At this point we cannot help but question the source, which is from Albert of Aix, a Frenchman who was naturally sympathetic to his fellows. Given that Gautier’s men had suffered no injuries through their travels across Germany and through most of Hungary it does seem strange that they suddenly ran into trouble on Bulgaria’s border. What’s more, 16 pilgrims had been attacked, with no reports of death on the other side. The Hungarians who attacked them had to be well-armed, probably well-trained and numerous, implying that they may have been the city guard. While we may never know for sure, it is quite probable that some of Gautier’s host had abused the Hungarians when they were all together. As the large body of pilgrims passed over, the 16 left behind became the objects of Hungarian reprisal.

While Gautier’s host managed to mostly avoid trouble in Hungary, Bulgaria was a whole other matter. When the pilgrims approached Belgrade and asked to be let in to buy supplies the Bulgarians shut their gates, fearing pillage. Facing starvation, the French and Germans began raiding the countryside for food. Fights broke out between the Western Europeans and the locals, as Christians spilled each others’ blood. The Belgrade leadership rallied a small army and pursued one of Gautier’s cohorts, which fled into a church for sanctuary. In response, the Bulgarians burned down the church, killing the sixty Westerners who had taken refuge inside.

Gautier’s disorganized host broke apart into small bands which fled in all directions. Many were killed by pursuing Bulgarian knights; others fled into the forests and became lost. With only a meager band of loyalists at his side, Gautier snuck through the woods until he came to the city of Nis. There, the duke of the city showed compassion on the pilgrims. He gave them provisions and sent them on their way to the Greek interior. What few people remained to Gautier followed him into the Eastern Roman Empire. It must have been a pitiable sight as the impoverished and worn Westerners walked through the great cities of Philippopolis, Adrianople and finally, Constantinople. Once inside the great eastern capital, Emperor Alexios I himself received Gautier, who told him about his miserable journey. Afterwards, the emperor provided for him and his band as they waited for Pierre’s great host to arrive.

The Hermit led his people through Hungary on the same path that Gautier had taken. Like Gautier he passed through without incident until he arrived at Zemun. He had heard stories of how the citizens had taken advantage of their fellow Christians, beating and robbing them, though he refused to believe it. Yet, as he approached he saw sixteen sets of clothes hanging from the city walls. Outraged at the mistreatment of pilgrims following a mission from God, Pierre demanded justice.

The Western Europeans sounded their trumpets and rushed the walls. The town’s defenders broke under the overwhelming numbers and took refuge in the city proper. The Westerners then breached the city and slaughtered any they found. Realizing Zemun was lost, thousands of Hungarian knights led whatever survivors were left to flee the city and take refuge in a nearby fortification. When the armed pilgrims saw the Hungarians try to escape they pursued them, killing many in their flight. The citizens of Zemun tumbled from cliffs or drowned in the Danube in their haste to escape the soldiers of God. Albert of Aix records that 4,000 Hungarians were killed, compared to only 100 of the pilgrims. Many of the survivors fled to a mountain castle, which the Western Europeans surmised was too defensible to bother attacking. Their vengeance achieved, Pierre led his people back to the city where they stayed for five days, eating, drinking and supplying themselves with the belongings of the dead.

When Coloman heard about the sack of Zemun he was naturally furious. The King of Hungary raised an army and raced to meet the unwelcome zealots. When Pierre learned that slaughtering thousands of people might have consequences he told his flock it was time to cut a hasty retreat from Hungary. Loaded down with cattle, sheep and all the goods they could carry, the pilgrims made for the river. When they arrived they found hardly any boats, since many had been taken by the citizens of Zemun in their mad flight from the Christians. With too few naval vessels available and with the wrathful King of Hungary not far away, many fastened makeshift rafts. While some rafts made it to the other side, others sank and their passengers drowned. Others got swept away by the current and were lost or killed by Pecheneg archers who had sailed out to assault them.

When most of Pierre’s pilgrims made it across the river they quickly proceeded to sack Belgrade for more supplies. After yet another massacre of Christians by Christians, the Western Europeans moved on. Seven days later, on 3 July, they arrived at Nis. The duke, who had previously been so kind to Gautier, became wary of the huge host. He offered to provide food and a military escort to the empire so long as the pilgrims would leave his territory immediately. Pierre agreed to the terms, but when his followers began pillaging the countryside the knights of Nis charged the host. The untrained, disorganized and poorly-equipped masses broke under the onslaught. The chronicles record that 10,000 were killed that day, the rest forced to flee.

Of the number of armed pilgrims that had set out primarily from northern France, Flanders and the Rhineland, the majority had deserted the mission, been killed or lost along the way. While over 100,000 had joined the pilgrimage in April 1096, somewhere between 20,000-40,000 made it to the Eastern Roman Empire in early July.

The Greeks were well aware of the path of destruction that the pilgrims had cut on their march east. To ward off any potential violence, the emperor sent an army under the command of general Leo Nikerites to accompany the host. Special markets were set up along the road to Constantinople where the French, Germans and other followers could purchase goods. But even these measures did not prevent outbreaks of violence and the pilgrims sacked towns across the Balkans on their way to the capital. Given the host’s sheer size there was little that the Greeks could do since they were already so short on manpower.

When the pilgrims arrived at Constantinople in early August, Alexios I held an audience with Pierre, even as he closed the gates of the city to his followers. The two had a dialogue, in which Pierre assented to the Emperor’s claim that the pilgrims should wait for the great lords of France and their armies to arrive before setting off to war in Anatolia. Yet, the French and Germans beyond the city could not contain themselves and sacked its outskirts. The Gesta Francorum records that the pilgrims went so far as to desecrate churches, tearing the lead from the roofs to sell as scrap. An outraged Alexios I told them to cross the Bosporus where he hoped that they could be better-controlled.

For two months Alexios I provisioned the host near Nicomedia. Pierre urged the pilgrims to wait, heeding Alexios I’s advice that the Turks were fearsome opponents. Yet, his followers’ patience had its limits. Dissenters staked their own claims for leadership. Sensing he was on the brink of losing all authority Pierre acquiesced to their demands. The great host from the northwestern fringes of the European continent marched into enemy lands for the first time.

The armed pilgrims committed even more heinous atrocities in Anatolia. The Alexiad claims that they slaughtered everyone in their path, from babes to the elderly, men, women, Muslims and Christians. The more sadistic among them tortured those they captured and mutilated corpses, roasting them like pigs on a spit. They sacked towns and tore apart churches. If the masses of untrained peasants had not been so unrestrained before, the hardships of the road had changed them. Moreover, they believed that whatever action, no matter how cruel, would be forgiven and justified so long as they eventually killed the enemies of God.

The host marched upon Nicaea, which was a little more than 30 kilometers on paper, though the mountainous terrain impeded swift progress. By the time they reached the first great enemy city the pilgrims were at each others’ throats. The Germans elected their own leader, Rainald, and split from the French. Thereafter the French seized the nearby Byzantine fortress of Kibatos, which Emperor Alexios I had recently constructed to house Anglo-Saxon mercenaries fleeing the Norman Conquest, but which had since fallen to the Turks. From Kibatos, the pilgrims launched raids against Nicaea’s outskirts. Yet, without siege equipment there was little they could do to the city proper. Meanwhile, the Germans marched on the castle called Xerigordos, which they aimed to make their base of operations. Upon arriving, they massacred what few Turks occupied the hilltop fortress, where they soon feasted on all the collected food and wine within.

Word spread rapidly of the Christian invasion. Kilij Arslan I, Sultan of Rûm, sent general Elchanes to deal with the matter. The Turkish force first arrived at Xerigordos. There, the well-armed, veteran fighters made short work of the Germans outside the walls. Those who survived holed up in the fortress. Without access to a supply of water, their situation rapidly grew dire. The Gesta Francorum recounts, “Our people were in such distress from thirst that they bled their horses and [donkeys] and drank the blood; others let their girdles and handkerchiefs down into the cistern and squeezed out the water from them into their mouths; some urinated into one another's hollowed hands and drank; and others dug up the moist ground and lay down on their backs and spread the earth over their breasts to relieve the excessive dryness of thirst.”

After eight days many had enough. Rainald led a party out of the fortress which surrendered to the Turks and accepted Islam. Those who refused to turn apostate were cut down, seized as slaves, or tied up and used as target practice for archers.

After dealing with the Germans, the Turks moved towards Kibatos. The Alexiad records that General Elchanes knew that the Normans’ greatest weakness was the promise of riches; something which is more than likely given how often Norman mercenaries had fought against and even for the Turks over the century. Thus, Elchanes sent out two spies who spread a rumor that Nicaea had already fallen to Christian soldiers who were even then dividing up the spoils. Upon hearing that they were missing out on the plunder of a great eastern city, many pilgrims demanded that they race to Nicaea. Pierre was not present, having previously left the host for Nicomedia in the hopes of coordinating with incoming French lords. Without his moderating voice, the unrestrained host marched to their doom on 21 October 1096.

When the Christian masses gathered in the valley around Nicaea the Turks caught them completely off-guard. Mounted archers mowed down poorly-armored men. The sudden confusion led to panicked flight. Horse archers and light cavalry made quick work of the terrified runners. Kibatos was not any safer, and the slaughter continued. Thousands died that day by Turkish swords and arrows, or by drowning or falling off cliffs. Among them was their primary military leader, Gautier Sans Avoir. The untrained pilgrims, armed only with makeshift weapons and their faith were no match for professional soldiers. The French and Germans had traveled across an entire continent over a period of months only to be slaughtered or sold as slaves after traveling 30 kilometers and spending a few days in Asia. The Turks killed so many that day that they made a mountain of corpses. Then they ground the Christians’ bones to make mortar to fix the walls of their nearby forts; strengthening their own defenses with the bodies of those who had tried to kill them.

Alexios I sent a force to relieve what few pilgrims still lived and ferry them back to the Eastern Roman Empire. While Alexios I wanted to protect his fellow Christians he had tired of the Western Europeans’ unruliness: when they arrived on the western side of the Bosporus he made sure they were disarmed.

Following this catastrophic failure the survivors immediately began blaming each other. Alexios I denounced Pierre for ignoring his orders against engaging the Turks. Pierre replied that his people had brought the devastation down upon themselves when they marched without his approval. Pierre maintained that God had judged them unworthy to see Jerusalem and smote them for their pride, wickedness and greed.

The mass of pilgrims who departed northern France and the Rhineland in Spring 1096 and were mostly eradicated by the 21 October that same year, is known to history as The People’s Crusade, in contrast to The Prince’s Crusade, which occurred later and was led by the great lords. This popular body comprised of commoners and a handful of petty nobles at their head, had been moved to frenzy with religious purpose. Yet, that zealotry wore off for most of them; with well over 100,000 at its height, perhaps 40,000 made it to the Eastern Roman Empire, with even fewer crossing the Bosporus.

The People’s Crusade was a remarkable failure. Most of its victims were not Muslims; in fact, the pilgrims hardly killed any of those they considered ‘infidels.’ Instead, the overwhelming majority were fellow Christians. Yet, this disaster was not a complete loss for the crusading movement. First, Pierre inadvertently siphoned off many non-combatants who otherwise might have joined the armies of the great lords and drained them of necessary supplies. Second, the great host’s destruction served as a warning to the French and their allies: the Turks were worthy opponents. God would not simply grant his followers victory; they would have to earn it.

This hard-won lesson also played into the political calculus of the holy war. Had the Turks been weak foes the incoming French armies might have been able to conquer the Holy Land themselves. The mountain of corpses at Nicaea told them that they would need the aid of the Byzantines. This gave the Emperor leverage to extract concessions from the Westerners who planned on making themselves great Middle Eastern lords.

According to the Latin sources Alexios I rejoiced when he heard that the People’s Crusade had been exterminated. This is likely anti-Greek propaganda from sources written after the breakdown of relations between Latins and the Eastern Roman Empire. Yet, the Emperor still had a reason to cheer the decimation of the first wave of crusaders. The People’s Crusade had arrived in the east with unbounded confidence in the righteousness of its cause and its own strength. The Emperor could use the annihilation of the People’s Crusade to impress upon the French how much they needed the Greeks and exert a level of control over them when they arrived, during the war with the Turks and in the postwar settlement; or so Alexios I hoped.

The People’s Crusade was the first of many popular crusades in the medieval period. Even as later Popes declared further official crusades, mass outpourings of popular piety led thousands of commoners to form their own makeshift armies and invade enemy lands, with similar results. The People’s Crusade was a stunning example that the Pope could not control what he had unleashed. The overriding passions that birthed the holy war were beyond anyone’s ability to contain; all its leaders could hope for was to direct such righteous fury against their enemies lest it be turned upon themselves.