It was but in 1096 that we watched the peasants of western Europe scourge and kill throughout the Turkish regions until their timely defeat at the hands of Kilij Arslan. What a sorry tale that was. That was not a war, that was a mob, a mob of peoples led to believing that wars would be won through emotion, that the world would change through indiscriminate killing. These were men who had but the year before farmed the land, served their lord's, and obeyed the king. Now they lie dead at the hand of heathens. Unjustly, it was their leader, Peter the hermit, who escaped to join the noble Prince's crusade. The people he led to hell’s jaw were forced to seek the help of the honorable Byzantine Emperor: Alexios Komnenos. While was away in Constantinople his people were slaughtered. That is where Peter the hermit stayed, until we came along: the knights from Western Europe, heeding the call of “Deus Vult”. The leaders of the first crusade were made up of myself: Godfrey De Bouillon, the duke of Lower Lorraine, and my brother Baldwin, who led the Imperial contingent. From Northern France came Robert Curthose, duke of Normandy, and Robert, count of Flanders. The religious Raymond who was the count of Toulouse traveled with the Pope’s representative: Adhemar of Le Puy. From southern Italy came Bohemond the prince of Taranto and his nephew Tancred. There were many different reasons that these men chose to reclaim the holy land: a spirit of adventure, the forgiveness of sins, and a longing to avenge God and defeat the Muslims. I did not embark on this perilous quest for glory, a wish for revenge, or a longing for adventure. I joined the crusade because it was Deus Vult, God’s will. It was the least I could do for a God who sent his son to die for me. I knew it was my duty as a Catholic to capture the holy city of Jerusalem. When my contingent arrived at Constantinople, the Emperor had us all pledge to return captured territory to the Byzantine Empire. It wasn’t until a fight had broken out that I took his petty oath. Unnecessary bloodshed wasn’t worth the outcome. By the spring of 1097, I met up with the other crusaders in Anatolia. This is where we chose to attack the city of Nicaea. We chose to attack this city since it provided the easiest path to Jerusalem, and the Council of Nicaea was also held in this city, so Deus Vult!
We arrived at the city, but no Turks came to fight us, so we decided to set up siege. My army took the north, and Bohemond and Tancred took the east. The zealous Raymond had yet to arrive, but we counted on him to hold the southern wall. We did not worry about the west since its walls bordered the lake Askania. Days past to no effect. I was hungry and my men were hungry. We cooked under the blazing sun. We were weak, but we trusted in God, he will provide! And that he did, in the form of Bohemond, who wisely set up a naval resupply with the Byzantines. We waited, until finally Raymond arrived. Just in time to, because the Turks arrived, led by none other than Kilij Aslan. They were estimated to be 10,000 strong, but we were stronger. When the Turkish forces witnessed the might of our combined armies, they retreated, and we chased. I mounted my noble steed, and my troops and I raced after the fleeing Turks. It was an uphill chase, but after days of nothingness my men were ready for a challenge. As we raced up the plain, we inflicted only minor casualties on the retreating army. As we returned down the hill toward the city, I smiled because I knew that God was on our side. He put fear into Arslan’s attacking forces, and he will put fear into the occupants of Jerusalem.