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The Celestial Knight Evoking The First Crusade in Odo of Deuil
The Celestial Knight Evoking The First Crusade in Odo of Deuil
The Celestial Knight Evoking The First Crusade in Odo of Deuil
Writing in the early twelfth century, the Benedictine theologian and historian
Guibert of Nogent asserted: “Si filii Israel miraculis quae ante eos egerit dominus
michi inferentur obiectis” [If someone cites the sons of Israel and the miracles God
performed for them, I shall offer something more miraculous].1 Guibert was refer-
ring to the sequence of events known to posterity as the First Crusade, events which
are presented throughout his revealingly titled crusade history Dei Gesta per
Francos as a divine miracle in their own right, enacted by God through the par-
ticipants of the expedition two decades earlier. This perception of the First Crusade,
which culminated in the conquest of Jerusalem in 1099, was ubiquitous in the twelfth
and thirteenth centuries.2 The miracles experienced during the expedition, as re-
corded by its chroniclers, became a defining aspect of the ongoing memorialization
of the First Crusade throughout the twelfth c entury.3
In contrast to their celebrated antecedent, the Second and Third Crusades did
not achieve equal success in the eyes of contemporaries.4 In the mid-twelfth century,
in his narrative of the deeds of his nephew and Holy Roman Emperor Frederick
Barbarossa, Otto of Freising (d. before 1177) commented of the Second Crusade:
“Verum quia peccatis nostris exigentibus, quem finem predicta expeditio sortita
fuerit, omnibus notum est, nos, qui non hac vice tragediam, sed iocundam scri-
bere proposuimus hystoriam, aliis vel alias hoc dicendum relinquimus” [But since
the outcome of that expedition, because of our sins, is known to all, we, who have
purposed this time to write not a tragedy but a joyous history, leave this to be re-
lated by others elsewhere].5 The Third Crusade similarly failed in its remit, insofar
as it did not succeed in the recapture of Jerusalem, which had fallen to Saladin’s
forces in 1187.6 Ambroise reveals the existence of a negative contemporary response
to the Third Crusade by defending against it in his Estoire de la Guerre Sainte (writ-
ten before 1199): “Mais meintes genz non sachanz / distrent / Puis plusors [feiz] par
lor folie / Qu’il n’orent rien fait en Sulie / Quant Jerusalem n’ert conquise” [But
many ignorant people say repeatedly, in their folly, that they achieved nothing in
Syria since Jerusalem was not conquered].7 Yet despite such censure, medieval ac-
counts of the Second and Third Crusades continued to discuss these later expeditions
in miraculous terms that mirrored treatments of the First Crusade. This article ex-
plores the reasons behind this historiographical phenomenon through analysis of
the celestial, or saintly, warrior motif. First, key moments in the motif’s development
are outlined.8 This is followed by an examination of two later crusade narratives
featuring the celestial knight, namely Odo of Deuil’s De profectione Ludovici VII
in Orientem (c. 1150) and the anonymous Historia de Expeditione Friderici Im-
peratoris (c. 1200).9 These later examples of the celestial knight motif provide in-
sights into how the problems posed by defeat were negotiated by authors in order
to legitimize their use of the miraculous, and why an author might go to such lengths
to do so. Further, exploration of the ongoing memorialization of the First Crusade
throughout the twelfth c entury contributes to a consideration of w hether the use of
the motif should be viewed as a deliberate evocation of that earlier endeavor.
Stories of miracles like the celestial knight could be incorporated into textual
accounts for several reasons.15 The simplest of these, as alluded to in the Gesta
Francorum, is the incorporation of the miraculous as experienced by those who
witnessed it. Beyond recording what was perceived to be lived experience, however,
are several layers of rhetorical implication, the use of which need not undermine an
author’s sincere belief in the authenticity of the miracle. Spectacular transcendental
miracles like that at Antioch provided many such layers of meaning, at the heart of
which was the miracle’s status as proof that God himself actively participated in—
and therefore implicitly condoned—the actions of the crusaders in the East.16
As it appears in the Gesta Francorum, the characteristics of the motif itself
can be roughly sketched as follows: military aid is rendered to a crusader army by
either a single horseman or a group of h orsemen, who are described as clothed in
white, riding white horses, and often brandishing a standard. The mysterious knight
or knights can be explicitly associated with warrior saints; however, their identity
may also be inferred, or simply unknown. The army’s spirits and fortunes are then
reversed, ultimately resulting in a heroic triumph. This usually occurs at a critical
point in the engagement, against allegedly impossible odds, from which it can be
concluded that miraculous intercession is the only explanation for victory.
The Celestial Knight before 1098
It is important to note that the motif of the celestial knight had an established
pedigree by the turn of the twelfth century. Whether the account found in the Gesta
Francorum is derived from genuine human experience—of the author himself or
of other participants in the battle—or is an insertion by the author, the motif of the
saintly warrior was certainly pervasive. Of particular significance, on account of
its careful identification of the horses as white, and of the riders as clothed in white,
is the scriptural precedent to be found in the Book of Revelation: “Et vidi cælum
apertum, et ecce equus albus, et qui sedebat super eum, vocabatur Fidelis, et Verax,
et cum iustitia iudicat, et pugnat. . . . Et exercitus qui sunt in cælo, sequebantur
eum in equis albis, vestiti byssino albo, et mundo” [And I saw heaven opened,
and behold, a white horse. And he who was sitting upon it was called Faithful and
True. And with justice does he judge and fight. . . . And the armies that are in
heaven were following him on white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean].17
Beyond ready access to such New Testament examples, the tradition of the
motif as it appeared in Byzantine literature and iconography became increasingly
accessible to Western Europeans over the course of the tenth and eleventh centu-
ries.18 Theodoret of Cyrus, who is believed to have died circa 466, describes how
the apostles John and Philip aided the troops of Emperor Theodosius I in battle in
394, wearing white clothes and mounted on white horses.19 Accounts of the military
aid of saints who were understood to have served in the army during life, how-
ever, emerged later. For example, Leo the Deacon recorded that Saint Theodore
appeared riding a white horse at the battle of Dorostolon in 971.20 It was around
68 Beth C. Spacey
this time that the repertoire of patron saints who were understood to aid the Byz-
antine army in battle was augmented by the addition of Saints George and Deme-
trius. It has been demonstrated how close contact between the Byzantine Empire
and the West resulted in the appropriation of these saints.21 James MacGregor, for
example, who has written variously on the warrior saints in this period, noted that
Western clerics and warriors were exposed to the power of these Eastern saints as a
result both of “Western imperial ambition” and later Norman activity in the Mediter-
ranean.22 MacGregor has also demonstrated how a certain devout clerk, Gerold
d’Avranches, incorporated the warrior saints into local liturgy; he preached on the
subject for the edification of the knights of Chester on the Welsh March in the 1070s.23
While the direct influence of these examples—from both the New Testament
and Byzantine tradition—on the celestial knight of crusade narratives cannot be
identified with any certainty, they do serve to demonstrate how the imagery of the
white-clad knight entered into the conceptual palette of eleventh-century Western
Europe. The Gesta Francorum’s discussion of the celestial knights at Antioch
should be viewed as a manifestation of exposure to both oral and literary discussion
of saintly warriors, both as a result of and contributing to their incorporation into
Western tradition.
Supportive of the proposed appeal and malleability of this topos is the exis-
tence of a description of saintly intervention in battle in a non-crusade, near-con
temporary text. Geoffrey of Malaterra, who wrote in the final years of the eleventh
century, describes how a saintly warrior brought aid to the army of Roger I of
Sicily at the battle of Cerami in 1063.24 The saint is described as splendidly armed,
mounted on a white horse, and brandishing a white standard, atop which was fixed
a brilliant cross.25 The parallels between the imagery found h ere and in the Gesta
Francorum are clear; the presence in both instances of white standards, in partic
ular, suggests that the versions contained in the works of the anonymous author of
the Gesta Francorum and of Geoffrey represent a version of the motif at a remove
from that contained within the Book of Revelation. While the knight is not explic
itly identified as St. George, Geoffrey does go on to describe how the Norman army
gave thanks both to God and to St. George following their victory in b attle.26
Geoffrey’s account of the battle of Cerami cannot be precisely dated. It is
unlikely, however, that Geoffrey’s account was influenced by an awareness of the
reported miracle at the battle of Antioch, or vice versa.27 The latest reference to a
contemporary historical event made by Geoffrey is to Pope Urban II’s papal bull
of July 1098. While Geoffrey briefly mentions how Bohemond of Taranto took the
cross in 1097, he makes no mention of the capture of the city of Antioch (or of the
latter’s role in those events), nor of the expedition’s success at Jerusalem in July
1099.28 In the absence of evidence that Geoffrey’s account was written long enough
after the battle of Antioch to make direct evocation possible, it should be concluded
that Geoffrey’s account, like the anonymous Gesta Francorum’s, is a manifestation
of the motif’s popularity in the late eleventh c entury.
The Celestial Knight 69
The battle of Cerami was fought between Roger I of Sicily, the “hero” of
Geoffrey’s work, and the combined forces of a Muslim alliance.29 Roger was the
uncle of the same Bohemond who led the crusader contingent of which the author
of the Gesta Francorum was part until the army’s separation following the estab-
lishment of Bohemond’s rule over Antioch. Both of these contemporaneous occur-
rences of the motif should therefore be seen as indicative of the pervasiveness
(though not exclusivity) of the motif within a southern Italian Norman cultural
milieu.30
The motif is also evidenced in participant narratives of the First Crusade
produced independently of the Gesta Francorum.31 Raymond of Aguilers, a Pro-
vençal canon who became chaplain to Raymond of Saint-Gilles during the expedi-
tion, completed his account before 1105.32 Raymond situates celestial intervention
at the battle of Dorylaeum in July 1097 and not at the sortie from Antioch the
following year. At Dorylaeum, a portion of the crusade army was ambushed by
Turks, at which point Raymond described how two horsemen bearing brilliant arms
were witnessed by some of the participants.33 Raymond was not present during the
stage of the engagement at which the celestial knights were witnessed; as with
much of his work, and as he claims here, he relied upon fellow participants for his
information. His inclusion of the motif suggests its presence not only within the
emergent oral tradition of the crusade, but presumably as a beneficial insertion into
his own narrative rendering. As with the Gesta Francorum, Raymond’s account
of divine intervention at Dorylaeum serves to communicate the legitimacy of the
crusader cause in the eyes of God, of whose power the saints represent individual
conduits.
These participant narratives, most notably the Gesta Francorum on account
of its various later incarnations, represent an important stage in the development
of the motif as specifically linked with the First Crusade. The adoption of the motif
in the later, “theologically refined” versions of the First Crusade cemented the as-
sociation. Most notably, the Historia Iherosolimitana of Robert the Monk—which
survives in more than 80 manuscripts from the twelfth to sixteenth centuries—
includes a version of the celestial knight story during its own description of the
battle of Antioch.34 As such, the motif became an integral part of the most success-
ful of the near-contemporary narratives of the First Crusade, and therefore figured
prominently in the elite and popular reception of the crusade narrative from the
twelfth century onward.35
Odo accompanied Louis on the crusade as his chaplain, and his work was intended
as a contribution toward a later compilation celebrating Louis’s life and deeds. As
such, a certain amount of eulogizing material is to be expected in the work’s content;
Henry Mayr-Harting went so far as to suggest that it has a “hagiographical streak
about it.”36 Significantly, Odo’s account ends with Louis’s arrival at Antioch ear-
lier in 1148, before the failed siege of Damascus in late July that year. This calls
into question, therefore, the circumstances in which Odo’s allusion to the saintly
warrior motif was made, and by extension, how its inclusion should be interpreted.
Odo draws upon the motif of the saintly warrior during his description of a
battle between the French contingent and a Turkish force on the banks of the Mae-
ander River in Asia Minor in 1147. While Odo does not admit to having witnessed
the event, he does note that there were certain individuals among the French who
said that they had seen a white knight who rode ahead and was the first to engage
the enemy in combat. In ascribing the account to fellow participants, Odo echoes
the invocation of oral transmission found in the participant narratives of the First
Crusade: “Certe fueruntqui dicerent album quendam militem ante nostros ad tran-
situm fluminis, quem non viderunt prius vel postea, se vidisse et primos ictus in
proelio percussisse. In hoc ego nec fallere vellem nec falli; scio tamen quod in tali
districto tam facilis et tam celebris victoria, non nisi divine virtute, fuisset” [Actu-
ally, there w
ere people who said that they had seen ahead of us at the ford a certain
white-clad knight, whom they had not seen before or since, and that he struck the
first blows in the battle. As to this, I should not wish to deceive anyone or to be
deceived; but I do know that in such straits such an easy and brilliant victory would
not have occurred except by the power of God].37
Virginia Berry posited that Odo wrote his work en route, before the siege of
Damascus.38 Were this the case, then the saintly warrior motif could be viewed as
a buoyant evocation of a previous expedition which Louis’s contingent was
anticipated to replicate. Mayr-Harting has convincingly demonstrated, however,
that a date of composition in the early months of 1150 is more satisfactory.39 It
is likely, then, that Odo wrote with an awareness of events at Damascus—events
which he decided to omit from his account—and that knowledge of defeat was not
in itself considered a barrier to the attribution of divine support. Further, Odo’s
conceptualization of the reasons behind the failure of the endeavor meant that the
miraculous could continue to function in praise of his king. For Odo, the sanctity
of the endeavor was made clear by Bernard of Clairvaux’s preaching. In a passage
reminiscent of accounts of Urban II’s preaching of the First Crusade, Odo portrays
Bernard as a “caeleste organum” [heavenly instrument] who communicated the
word of God—namely the call to crusade.40 Bernard’s performance in an interces-
sory role functioned as proof of the divine sponsorship of the endeavor. It was the
treachery of the Byzantine emperor that was responsible for the defeat of the French
army in Asia Minor.41 By emphasizing the role of the Greeks as inhibitors, Odo
was able to utilize the miraculous in order to portray the expedition as divinely
The Celestial Knight 71
gloriam probitas incomporabilis dedit” [Let us follow the route of our fathers,
whose incomparable valor endowed them with renown on earth and glory in
heaven].47 Further, Odo himself is believed to have traveled on the Second Crusade
with a history of the First Crusade with him, though it cannot be securely identi-
fied.48 In the likely event that Odo’s First Crusade history engaged with the celes-
tial knight motif, he would have been acutely aware of the added implications
provided by its association, beyond and intertwined with its utility as a laudatory
topos. Odo’s utilization of the celestial knight motif, therefore, should be understood
within the context of his desire to present Louis’s expedition to the East in the same
tradition as the First Crusade, which in turn stemmed from a wider cultural climate
in which its emulation was encouraged. In recording aspects of the Second Crusade,
Odo was able to highlight resonances with its crusading antecedent, if not in even-
tual outcome, then at least in levels of divine support made manifest through the
miraculous.49
The Celestial Knight of the Historia de Expeditione Friderici Imperatoris
Given the focus of Odo’s history on King Louis, it is perhaps not surprising
that the second example to be examined here is found in a text similarly written to
eulogize. In this instance, the subject is Frederick Barbarossa’s expedition to the
East during the Third Crusade. The Historia de Expeditione Friderici Imperatoris
has been described as the “longest, richest and most important” of the three main
sources for Barbarossa’s role in the Third Crusade.50 The Historia is generally
held to be a composite text, completed circa 1200, comprised in part of what ap-
pears to be a participant’s account of the army’s passage across Asia Minor, as well
as sections that bear a strong resemblance to a diary-like source written by the
Bavarian cleric Tageno, who died in Tripoli in 1190.51 It is during a description of
a battle with the Turks on May 14, 1190, that the Historia includes a version of the
celestial knight motif: “Cuidam etiam religioso laico Ludovico apparuit quidam
in nivea veste albo equo insidens, veniens in auxilium nostrum quem sanctum
Georgium credebat, quidam vero angelum dei esse dicebant, qui cum hasta una
miro modo verberavit agmina Turcorum” [Furthermore, a religious layman called
Ludwig saw a man who was riding a white horse and clad in a snow-white tunic
coming to assist us, whom he believed to be St. George; while others said that he
was an angel of God who miraculously struck down the Turkish column with a
single lance].52
Due to the complexity of the work’s composition, it is unclear whether the
section detailing the appearance of the saintly warrior was written with an awareness
of Frederick’s death in June 1190, a month after the miracle is described as having
occurred, or of the eventual dispersal of the German army following the death of
Frederick’s son at Acre the following year. Having seen how an author such as Odo
might apportion the blame for misfortunes elsewhere (thereby freeing Louis and
his army from culpability, and in so doing making the implications of divine
The Celestial Knight 73
association less theologically jarring), the issue of the point at which the narrative
was written (i.e., before or after Frederick’s death) becomes less urgent. Failure and
misfortune need not necessarily indicate an absolute withdrawal of God’s f avor.
It is more difficult to assess whether the compiler of the Historia was con-
sciously evoking the First Crusade through use of the miraculous. A link has been
found, however, between the imperial court of Frederick Barbarossa and the His-
toria Iherosolimitana of Robert the Monk, whose work features the celestial army
during the battle outside Antioch.53 The frontispiece of a manuscript of this work
(Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica, MS. Vat. Lat. 2001), which is believed to have
been produced at an abbey in Bavaria between 1187 and Frederick’s departure on
crusade in 1189, depicts the manuscript being presented to the emperor by Henry
of Schläftern. While it cannot be definitely concluded from this that the author or
authors of the Historia were acquainted with Robert’s history, it does indicate that
histories of the First Crusade—histories which, moreover, continued the Gesta
Francorum’s placement of a celestial knight at Antioch—were in circulation around
the imperial court at this time. Indeed, Robert’s narrative appears to have experi-
enced considerable popularity in the German empire from the mid-twelfth century
onward, despite its Frankocentric leanings.54
A further similarity between Robert’s rendering of the miraculous in the First
Crusade and that of the Historia’s account of the later German expedition can be
found in the ways in which both texts depict the Muslim response to the celestial
armies. Robert described how a group of Muslims in Antioch’s citadel had chosen
to be converted to Christianity after having witnessed the countless thousands of
white soldiers. Upon realizing that this was a heavenly force, they concluded that
the Christian God could not be defeated.55 Similarly, in the Historia, it is described
how a Turkish emir advised his lord not to engage the Christian army in battle, as
their strength was “not human but divine.”56 He asserted that certain of his most
reliable knights had witnessed seven thousand white knights riding snow-white
horses.57 That such similarities exist between the two texts strengthens the contention
that the author of this later work was influenced by narratives of the First Crusade.
The celestial knight represented a recognizable building block in the narrativization
of what were perceived to be comparable events (or at least events undertaken by
an individual deserving of the motif’s laudatory implications). Further, the motif’s
inclusion in histories of these two later expeditions reveals that even unsuccessful
crusades could be demonstrated to have had redeeming qualities.
Conclusion
As this article has demonstrated, there is evidence to suggest that both the
De profectione Ludovici VII in Orientem and the Historia de Expeditione Frid-
erici Imperatoris were written by individuals in possession of a close knowledge
of First Crusade narratives. These narratives, in contributing to a process of tex-
tual re-presentation, cemented the celestial knight’s association with the First
74 Beth C. Spacey
Crusade in collective memory. The inclusion of the celestial knight motif should
be viewed in the context of the importance placed upon the emulation of the First
Crusade, an emphasis most explicit in the case of Odo and the court of Louis VII.
While the rhetorical value of the motif lay increasingly in its ability to evoke the
accomplishments of the First Crusade and its participants, the celestial knight
continued to perform its original function, namely to denote the implication of
divine support for a particular crusading enterprise. These two later examples
demonstrate that the ultimate success of an expedition need not present itself as a
necessary prerequisite for the inclusion of miraculous interventions. Yet the celes-
tial knights of Odo and the Historia, while serving to eulogize on the one hand, and
to justify the apportionment of blame on the other, are unable to contribute to an
atmosphere in which the success of the crusade itself was a teleological inevitabil-
ity. Only the First Crusade’s constituent miracles culminated in an event deemed
miraculous in its own right.
Notes
I am grateful to the Arts and Humanities Research Council, whose support has
enabled me to conduct my doctoral research, of which this article is a product. I
also wish to thank William Purkis, Stephen Spencer, Andrew Buck, and my two
anonymous reviewers for reading earlier versions of this paper, and for their in-
sightful comments.
1 Guibert of Nogent, Guitbertus Abbas Sanctae Mariae Novigenti Dei Gesta
per Francos, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis (hereafter
CCCM) 127A (Turnhout, 2002), bk. 7, ch. 22, p. 308 (hereafter GN); English
translation is from Guibert of Nogent, The Deeds of God through the Franks:
A Translation of Guibert of Nogent’s Gesta Dei per Francos, trans. Robert
Levine (Woodbridge, 1997), bk. 7, p. 145. For a consideration of Guibert’s
stance on the First Crusade within the broader context of contemporary re-
sponses, see William J. Purkis, “Rewriting the History Books: The First Crusade
and the Past,” in Writing the Early Crusades, ed. Marcus G. Bull and Damien
Kempf (Woodbridge, 2014), pp. 140–154.
2 Christopher Tyerman, The Debate on the Crusades (Manchester, 2011), pp. 7–25.
For a survey of the literary response to the First Crusade, see Susan B. Edging-
ton, “The First Crusade: Reviewing the Evidence,” in The First Crusade: Origins
and Impact, ed. Jonathan P. Phillips (Manchester, 1997), pp. 55–77; J. P. Phillips,
The Second Crusade: Extending the Frontiers of Christendom (New Haven, CT,
2007), pp. 17–36; M. G. Bull, “The Western Narratives of the First Crusade,”
in Christian-Muslim Relations 600–1500, ed. D. Thomas, A. Mallett, et al., Brill
Online (2015), http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/christian-muslim
-relations-i/the-western-narratives-o f-the-first-crusade-C
OM_24927. On the
conceptualization of crusading activity in Caesarius of Heisterbach’s Dialogus
The Celestial Knight 75
History of the English People, ed. and trans. Diana Greenway (Oxford, 1996),
bk. 7, ch. 15, p. 438.
15 See especially Benedicta Ward, Miracles and the Medieval Mind: Theory,
Record and Event 1000–1215 (Philadelphia, 1987); Isabel Moreira, Dreams,
Visions and Spiritual Authority in Merovingian Gaul (Ithaca, NY, 2000); Michael
Goodich, Miracles and Wonders: The Development of the Concept of Miracle,
1150–1350 (Aldershot, 2007); and Steven Justice, “Did the Middle Ages Believe
in Their Miracles?” Representations 103(1) (2008), 1–29.
16 Bernard Hamilton, “ ‘God Wills It’: Signs of Divine Approval in the Crusade
Movement,” in Signs, Wonders, Miracles: Representations of Divine Power in
the Life of the Church, ed. Kate Cooper and Jeremy Gregory, Studies in Church
History 41 (Woodbridge, 2005), 88–98.
17 Revelation 19:11 and 19:14; also discussed by E. Lapina, “Demetrius of Thes-
saloniki: Patron Saint of Crusaders,” Viator 40(2) (2009), 93–112, especially
p. 101.
18 On the style and origins of the depiction of warrior saints in crusader art, see
Jaroslav Folda, “Mounted Warrior Saints in Crusader Icons: Images of the Knight-
hoods of Christ,” in Knighthoods of Christ: Essays on the History of the Crusades
and the Knights Templar, ed. Norman Housley (Aldershot, 2007), pp. 87–107.
19 Piotr Ł. Grotowski, Arms and Armour of the Warrior Saints: Tradition and
Innovation in Byzantine Iconography (843–1261), trans. Richard Brzezinski
(Leiden, 2010), p. 99.
20 Grotowski, Arms and Armour, p. 100.
21 Robin Cormack and Stavros Mihalarias, “A Crusader Painting of St. George:
‘Maniera greca’ or ‘lingua franca’?” Burlington Magazine 126 (1984), 132–141;
James B. MacGregor, “The Ministry of Gerold d’Avranches: Warrior-Saints
and Knightly Piety on the Eve of the First Crusade,” Journal of Medieval His-
tory 29(3) (2003), 219–237, especially p. 223, and James B. McGregor,
“Negotiating Knightly Piety: The Cult of the Warrior-Saints in the West, ca.
1070–ca. 1200,” Church History 73(2) (2004), 317–345, especially p. 320;
Lapina, “Demetrius of Thessaloniki,” passim; Grotowski, Arms and Armour,
p. 103; B. Hamilton, “Why Did the Crusader States Produce So Few Saints?”
in Saints and Sanctity, ed. Peter Clarke and Tony Claydon, Studies in Church
History 47 (Woodbridge, 2011), pp. 103–111 (107); Paul, To Follow in their
Footsteps, p. 101.
22 MacGregor, “The Ministry of Gerold d’Avranches,” p. 223.
23 MacGregor, “The Ministry of Gerold d’Avranches,” passim.
24 MacGregor, “The Cult of the Warrior-Saints,” p. 333; Lapina, “Demetrius of
Thessaloniki,” pp. 107–108.
78 Beth C. Spacey
31 On the relationship between the Gesta Francorum and the various other con
temporary histories of the First Crusade, see especially John France, “The
Anonymous Gesta Francorum and the Historia Francorum qui ceperunt
Iherusalem of Raymond of Aguilers and the Historia de Hierosolymitano
itinere of Peter Tudebode: An Analysis of the Textual Relationship between
Primary Sources for the First Crusade,” in The Crusades and Their Sources:
Essays Presented to Bernard Hamilton, ed. J. France and W. G. Zajac (Alder-
shot, 1998), pp. 39–69, and John France, “The Use of the Anonymous Gesta
Francorum in the Early Twelfth-Century Sources for the First Crusade,” in
From Clermont to Jerusalem: The Crusades and Crusader Societies, 1095–
1500, ed. Alan V. Murray (Turnhout, 1998), pp. 29–42; Rubenstein, “What Is
the Gesta Francorum?”; Bull, “The Relationship between the Gesta Francorum
and Peter Tudebode’s Historia de Hierosolymitano Itinere”; Niskanen, “The
Origins of the Gesta Francorum.”
32 Raymond of Aguilers, Le “Liber” de Raymond d’Aguilers, ed. J. H. Hill
and L. L. Hill (Paris, 1969) and Historia Francorum qui Ceperunt Iherusalem,
trans. J. H. Hill and L. L. Hill (Philadelphia, 1968).
33 Raymond of Aguilers, Historia Francorum, pp. 45–46: “Fertur quoddam
insigne miraculum, sed nos non vidimus quod duo equites armis coruscis et
mirabili facie exercitum nostrum precedentes, sic hostibus imminebant ut
nullo modo facultatem pugnandi eis concederent. At vero cum Turci referi-
re eos lanceis vellent, insauciabiles eis apparebant” [Although we did not
see it, some recounted a remarkable miracle in which two handsome knights
in flashing armor, riding before our soldiers and seemingly invulnerable
to the thrusts of Turkish lancers, menaced the enemy so that they could not
fight]. English translation from Hill and Hill, trans., Historia Francorum,
p. 28.
34 Kempf and Bull, The Historia Iherosolimitana, p. x. For Robert’s version of
the celestial intervention at Antioch, see RM, bk. 7, pp. 76–77.
35 As Christopher Tyerman has identified, the prominence of Robert’s text was
superseded after circa 1200, in large part by the French translations and con-
tinuations of William of Tyre’s Historia Ierosolymitana. See Tyerman, The
Debate on the Crusades, pp. 7–36. In the Latin Historia, a celestial knight is
seen by the First Crusaders on the Mount of Olives during the siege of Jeru-
salem (1099), and by those in the army of King Baldwin III of Jerusalem
during their retreat from the failed expedition against Bostrum (c. 1146). See
William of Tyre, Chronicon, ed. R. B. C. Huygens, CCCM 63, bk. 8, ch. 16,
p. 407, and CCCM 63 A, bk. 16, ch. 13, pp. 733–734. I discuss William’s omis-
sion of the celestial knights at Antioch in my forthcoming PhD dissertation.
On the significance of artistic representations of St. George and of the ce-
lestial intervention at Antioch, see Colin Morris, “Picturing the Crusades:
80 Beth C. Spacey
my most reliable knights reckoned that there were today seven thousand men
in white, riding snow-white horses, at the head of that army, who all struck us
most violently with lances that they held in their hands, and forced us to flee. If
there were so many white horses, how many horses do you think there were of
another colour? What glory do you think will be gained from your most shame-
ful flight today with your three hundred thousand men?]. English translation
from Loud, trans., The Crusade of Frederick Barbarossa, p. 107.
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