ng towns," says a chronicler, "that they yielded of their own
free will and without compulsion."

It was all at once ascertained that Jerusalem had undergone a fresh
calamity, and fallen more and more beneath the yoke of the infidels.
Abou-Kacem, khalif of Egypt, had taken it from the Turks; and his vizier,
Afdhel, had left a strong garrison in it. A sharp pang of grief, of
wrath, and of shame shot through the crusaders. "Could it be," they
cried, "that Jerusalem should be taken and retaken, and never by
Christians?" Many went to seek out the count of Toulouse. He was known
to be much taken up with the desire of securing the possession of Marrah,
which he had just captured; still great confidence was felt in him. He
had made a vow never to return to the West; he was the richest of the
crusader princes; he was conjured to take upon himself the leadership of
the army; to him had been intrusted the spear of the Lord discovered at
Antioch; if the other princes should be found wanting, let him at least
go forward with the people, in full assurance; if not, he had only to
give up the spear to the people, and the people would go right on to
Jerusalem, with the Lord for their leader. After some hesitation,
Raymond declared that the departure should take place in a fortnight, and
he summoned the princes to a preliminary meeting. On assembling "they
found themselves still less at one," says the chronicler, and the
majority refused to budge. To induce them, it is said that Raymond
offered ten thousand sous to Godfrey de Bouillon, the same to Robert of
Normandy, six thousand to the count of Flanders, and five thousand to
Tancred; but, at the same time, Raymond announced his intention of
leaving a strong garrison in Marrah to secure its defence. "What!"
cried the common folk amongst the crusaders, "disputes about Antioch and
disputes about Marrah! We will take good care there be no quarrel
touching this town; come, throw we down its walls; restore we peace
amongst the princes, and set we the count at liberty: when Marrah no
longer exists, he will no longer fear to lose it." The multitude rushed
to surround Marrah, and worked so eagerly at the demolition of its
ramparts that the count of Toulouse, touched by this popular feeling as
if it were a proof of the divine will, himself put the finishing touch to
the work of destruction and ordered the speedy departure of the army.
At their head marched he, barefooted, with his cler