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Thread: The Siege of Jerusalem

  1. #1
    Lucius Malfoy's Avatar Pure-Blood
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    Default The Siege of Jerusalem



    The year is 1099 AD, the season has begun to change to the more arid and hot summer as the months shift from June to July. A massive army of 15,000 crusaders, led by many great nobles, have arrived before the walls of Jerusalem and begun an ardent siege of the city. It is the prize they have desired, the Holy City herself. The goal of the Crusade, preached by Pope Urban II, and the place of many holy occurrences within the history of Christendom. Yet, the Muslim defenders are strong and firm in their resolute defense of the city. Scouts have brought word that enemy reinforcements may be possible soon if the city is not taken, To the south, a Fatimid army has begun to gather before the walls of Ascalon and may likely strike if the Crusaders do not fulfill their oath and take the city by an assault. But the army is too small to effectively besiege the city on all sides and supplies are running low once more... many pray for a miracle, like at Antioch. Many pray for God's favor in seeing their swords and spears pierce the Muslim defenders and take the city with a resounding victory. Yet, the longer they delay, the greater their chances fall.

    May God be with us at the height of our great trial...

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    cfmonkey45's Avatar Praeses
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    The Norman Camp



    The summer heat had begun to take its toll, and by noon it was sweltering. Heat rose from the ground in wisps from the scorching heat and made metal, armor, and swords hot to the touch, while the dry desert winds bought dust, and sand, and misery. Already, several of the small folk had succumbed to heat stroke and exhaustion. Plumes of dust were kicked up by knights and horsemen foraging for what little food there was in the barren wilderness. Within the Norman Camp, there was little that could be done to avoid the heat, except to stay within the shade where the sweat and grime combined to make a putrid odor unbearable to most. Dust would cling to the swords, the draperies, their clothes, to the sweat on their faces. With what precious little water they had, the Normans could not afford the luxury of baths or even basic hygiene.

    Within his tent, Robert took counsel with his closest companions and retainers. Alan, his brother-in-law, the Duke of Brittany, sat on his right, while Stephen, Robert's nephew, the young Count of Aumale and the once-pretender to the throne of England, sat to his left. In front of them was half empty chalice of Sekanjabin with several tankards.

    "God, this tastes like pisswater," Robert snorted. The men chuckled.

    "You sound like you speak from experience," Stephen mused. "I'm sure the Curthose would be accustomed to pisswater by now."

    "You cheeky bastard, watch your mouth before I knock another one of your teeth out," Robert replied with a grin.

    With a chuckle, Alan took a swig of the briney, sour liquid. With a scowl, he gulped down the concoction. It burned his throat and left strong after taste. "That may have been the worst drink I have ever tasted. Wasn't this supposed to be sweet? I can't taste any damn honey in this!"

    "Milord, we ran out of honey a few days ago. We only have well water and white vinegar to dilute it," one of his retainers meekly responded. The drink, Sekanjabin--when prepared correctly--was considered to be a Persian delicacy. Mixed with honey, lavendar, rosewater, and diluted with water. However, with few of these provisions on hand, the drink was mostly brine and harsh vinegar. Apart from that, few other drinks were on hand. The smallfolk and the infantry had consumed the barley, while there was no pomegranates left to make grenadine. Some of the camp followers had left to Ascalon to acquire more pomegranates, but with the Fatimid Army approaching, there was no telling when--or if--they would make it back to Jerusalem in time.

    "Well, it's not the worst drink I have ever had, but it sure does come close. I swear by the tabernacle, this may have been worse than that draught in Flanders."

    The men chuckled as they sipped their drinks. While not much, it staved off the thirst.

    "The sooner we get on with this siege the better."

    Outside the city, the Crusaders were split into two groups, one in the North comprising the bulk of the Crusader Army, led by Tancred, Robert of Flanders, Robert of Normand, and Godffrey of Bouillon, on the plains outside the city near the Christian quarter, while Raymond was position at the south near Mount Zion and the Valley of Hinnom.

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  3. #3
    Dirty Chai's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    A soft song is created as the breeze weaves its way among the trees, whom sway hither and thither above, dancing verdant life across the sapphire-toned firmament. It swims back and forth, pausing for mere moments before rushing back in a soothing but chilling rhythm, not unlike the waves of the sea which patterned infancy and childhood. But, nay, the air is devoid of salt, and rich with the scent of mountain flowers. When one's arms outstretch, and one's bow is dropped, and one's belt is loosened, the wind carries one hither and thither, as one of the trees, swaying gently upon solid roots reaching from the forest floor. The cool touch fills every fold and entry of one's cloth, and the monotonous rhythm, the breath of God himself, brings one to be without the merest of thoughts, only ticked and tacked by the distant whistles of birds.

    Godfrey's eyes open, begrudgingly, and his emerald irises stare out across a couple hundred paces to a siege tower - the first to be completed, constructed from timber taken from Samaria to the north. He sits upon a low, poorly constructed consular chair, resting in the narrow shadow given by his tent. He is dressed in little but his undershirt, his lips parched; golden locks, darkened with sweat dried long ago, hang across his shoulders and down his back as well as his chest. A few other men linger around him, mostly of his household.

    An extended but silent yawn exudes from his jaws and Godfrey winces, letting go of his imagining of the Arduenna forest which he has left behind - the place for which he now longs most. His eyes shift and refocus into a distant pinnacle - the Holy Sepulchre, pointed out to the pilgrims upon their arrival. The place where Christ was crucified. Godfrey often stares long at that sight, finding it to be a focal point of meditation and prayer at times. Today, it was the siege tower as the focus of Godfrey's contemplation, for he was certain he'd be ascending it sooner than later.

    The erstwhile duke stands up, wincing again, and wheels around the chair with a few steps, his left leg limping with needles of sensation as it still awakes from slumber.

    "Adelolf," he calls and waves as he limps into the tent. The figure stirs and follows inside to aid his lord in dressing.

    There is shifting of cloth and bending of leather in the tent, subtle and whispered, until Godfrey's voice is heard again, now much louder;

    "Stabelo; go to the duke of Normandy and the count of Flanders, and tell them we should meet today at Nones, at the usual place. Ruthard, send for my brother."
    Last edited by Dirty Chai; November 08, 2019 at 05:25 AM.

  4. #4

    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Amber and crimson pierced the horizon, ushering in daylight upon another day of heat, thirst, and hunger. Eustace, as was habitual, had risen early, and was stood outside in loose fitting linens watching the Sun make the slow climb over Jerusalem’s walls. Morning prayers had been once more uttered; for water and food, and perhaps some divine aid to scale these thrice damned walls if the Lord wills it so. A few of those who had horses left had been sent to search for supplies and would be enemies, and Boulogne stood witness as a company of them returned, both horse and man little more than skin and bones after days and nights of hard riding. They returned empty handed, met with sunken eyes and lowered gazes from those who had stirred in anticipation or hope or salvation. Those few that remained from the long years of campaign were hardened by their toils, and had seen many fall and go to paradise so that they might linger here, battered and hungry, before the walls of their grand prize.


    Still, not all was lost. Wooden towers had slowly sprouted in the shadow of the city walls, his brother Godfrey’s men hard at work chopping timber to craft the siege engines that would pave their road to triumph. The day that they would scale their prize was fast approaching, and the common footsoldiers were growing restless as the array of towers and catapults slowly assembled before their foes. The Count of Boulogne approached the siege weapons on horseback, now fully armoured and accompanied by the handful of his retainers that had roused themselves at this early hour. Dismounting, he silently paced around each one, inspecting the labourers at work in the sort of daily ritual that kept a man sane during the long months of siege with little water or food to sustain him. They all had their rituals. Those who did not became listless, empty shells of men that were simply waiting before the walls for their doom. Many had met that fate an Antioch, before the rousing words of the priest and their desperate sally from the gates. All were waiting on the word of Godfrey, who had not yet emerged; not even Raymond of Toulouse would begin his assault without word that the Lord of Lotharingia was doing the same. Boulogne’s brown eyes glinted golden in the Sun as he squinted up at the cloudless sky. That was when Ruthard found the count. So, his brother had finally stirred. After the German conveyed his message, the Count of Boulogne remounted, his daily ritual finished, and trotted off in the direction of the tent of his brother. Dismounting outside, Eustace handed the reins and conical helm to his squire, before pulling the flap of fabric aside and stepping through.

    “The engines are ready. Your men say that they can get us onto the walls, or bring them down before us.”

    Eustace ran a gloved hand through his helmet-flattened hair, the once bright blonde now dirty, and flecked with grey.

    “They did not even try and test the range of their arrows this time. I suspect the enemy is becoming as weary as we are.”

    So they all dearly hoped. The count once more bit his cracked lips.

    “Is it yet time?”

    ----

    Elsewhere stirred Gaston, the lord of Bearn, who tried to hold himself above the politics and the bickering. Once, he had followed Raymond, but the Lord of Toulouse had seemed more interested in squabbling for Antioch or securing himself Tripoli than in the capture of the Holy City. Bearn had then looked towards Godfrey of Bouillon, but he was ill-trusted amongst the Franks and Flems that had gathered around the Lotharingian's standard. Gaston was a man of the south, though his pride prevented him yet from extending the olive branch to his former friend. As of now, Bearn had positioned himself between the two camps, his sizeable contingent of men acting as a bridge between the ostracised Raymond and the rest of the crusaders.

    It was now approaching mid-day. Sol climbed high above them, cresting Jerusalem itself, and Gaston was forced to shield his eyes from the hostile glare. They were making ready to take the city, he knew, as Godfrey's siege engines grew larger and more numerous by the day. Raymond's did, too, though his were fewer in number. Bearn took a draught of wine - piss flavoured vinegar - and made his way through the camp. The day of assault was coming, for certainty, for an air of apprehension had gripped every man present. A message from the Lord, perhaps? Fear was the crucible in which men were boiled down to see their true worth.

    "Where is the Lord Raymond?"

    Asked Bearn, who had arrived at Tripoli's camp at the head of a conroy of horsemen. Unlike many of the princes, Gaston was still in the summer of his years; tall, handsome, built like an ox. He did not enjoy the grumbling and dithering of the cautious older men.


    ---

    Five more men had passed during the night, from hunger, thirst, or old wounds. Seven women besides that, and a three boys not yet old enough to hold a spear. Shallow graves had been dug behind the encampment, in the shadow of Christ's own city, where a small group of clerics had gathered to see the poor souls lowered into the ground. There was no church graveyard to bury them in. But they should fear not, for no ground is more holy than that which they stand upon now. What greater church is there than Jerusalem itself? Like the Saints, their souls would rise straight to paradise, to be at the side of the Lord.

    At least their suffering was not for nothing. Stephen made the sign of the cross. They could not continue like this. Antioch was their greatest test, and they had pushed onward to Jerusalem. The Lord had a purpose for the living yet.
    Last edited by Gandalfus; November 08, 2019 at 10:28 AM.

  5. #5
    Lucius Malfoy's Avatar Pure-Blood
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Swat! Damn sweat flies, thought Raymond as he smacked one trying to make a dinner on the back of his neck. It was already mid-day by the time the Count of Toulouse exited his tent from morning prayer and speaking with his commanders. The aged Count was still sturdy and robust, but the heat only grew worse with each passing day. Stale bread was his breakfast and vinegar mixed with water and wine... when were the supplies from Jaffa supposed to arrive?! Raymond had one of his nobles send out mounted soldiers to search the route for their long-awaited supplies from the Italians about an hour or so ago, yet still no word back. God was certainly giving his followers and faithful quite the trial; the heat, the dwindling supplies, and the strong walls of Jerusalem, the most holy of cities in all of Christendom. The Saracen was doing his job by keeping them out of the city. This was certainly no Antioch. At least there was a river that supplied them with fresh water and a much closer port.

    Raymond walks out of cluster of tents to survey the wall from afar, just outside the range of the enemy's arrows. He looks left and right, seeing what few towers could be assembled, remaining idle, but nevertheless ready for the coming assault. A scout reported no movement from Godefroy and the other crusaders, who were on the north end of the city. Jerusalem had to be taken before the reported enemy, gathering at Ascalon, had a chance to point their spears north. A whistle was heard before a soft thwack was heard before Raymond's feet. He looks down to see, six feet ahead, an arrow had landed. Damnable heathens! Taunting him like this! Raymond snorts and moves back into the encampment before a soldier runs up.

    My Lord Raymond, the Viscount Bearn desires to speak with you.

    Raymond nods and follows the soldier to where Gaston and his horsemen awaited the Count of Toulouse. However, before Raymond could motion for Gaston to enter, he sees dust rising behind them. Sentries began shouting for combat, but the dust settled as the scouts that Toulouse had sent forth returned. Raymond proceeds around Gaston's party to the scout.

    What news? Where are our supplies from Jaffa?? Speak!

    The scout lowers his head and shakes it before speaking that they had found the convoy, or rather, what remained of it. The Saracens had ambushed them along the road this morning or last night. There were no signs of life and the enemy had disappeared long before the scouts arrived. Raymond stamps his foot in the sand before turning to Gaston.

    God is truly testing, Lord Gaston. The heathen sneaks in and out of the sands like vipers... devouring our precious supplies with ease.


    Raymond turns to Jerusalem, gazing at it for a long time.

    Jerusalem must be taken soon or these sands will, soon enough, become our graves.
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  6. #6
    Mary The Quene's Avatar Praeses
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    As like with most others summer began to took its toll upon Richard. Even he, the sicilian norman, found to summers of the holy lands to be unbearable at times. But they were close now to their ultimate goal, that alone was all worth it in the end. He remembered now he thought of this very moment alot when he first joined the crusade. But yet Richard realized they were so close but still so far at the same time. The Holy city still had to be fought for and that required planning however.

    "Bring me Tancred, my good knight." Richard realized he'd likely end up fighting with his cousin so it was better to prepare the ultimate struggle now.
    Veritas Temporis Filia

  7. #7

    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Quote Originally Posted by Lucius Malfoy View Post
    Swat! Damn sweat flies, thought Raymond as he smacked one trying to make a dinner on the back of his neck. It was already mid-day by the time the Count of Toulouse exited his tent from morning prayer and speaking with his commanders. The aged Count was still sturdy and robust, but the heat only grew worse with each passing day. Stale bread was his breakfast and vinegar mixed with water and wine... when were the supplies from Jaffa supposed to arrive?! Raymond had one of his nobles send out mounted soldiers to search the route for their long-awaited supplies from the Italians about an hour or so ago, yet still no word back. God was certainly giving his followers and faithful quite the trial; the heat, the dwindling supplies, and the strong walls of Jerusalem, the most holy of cities in all of Christendom. The Saracen was doing his job by keeping them out of the city. This was certainly no Antioch. At least there was a river that supplied them with fresh water and a much closer port.

    Raymond walks out of cluster of tents to survey the wall from afar, just outside the range of the enemy's arrows. He looks left and right, seeing what few towers could be assembled, remaining idle, but nevertheless ready for the coming assault. A scout reported no movement from Godefroy and the other crusaders, who were on the north end of the city. Jerusalem had to be taken before the reported enemy, gathering at Ascalon, had a chance to point their spears north. A whistle was heard before a soft thwack was heard before Raymond's feet. He looks down to see, six feet ahead, an arrow had landed. Damnable heathens! Taunting him like this! Raymond snorts and moves back into the encampment before a soldier runs up.

    My Lord Raymond, the Viscount Bearn desires to speak with you.

    Raymond nods and follows the soldier to where Gaston and his horsemen awaited the Count of Toulouse. However, before Raymond could motion for Gaston to enter, he sees dust rising behind them. Sentries began shouting for combat, but the dust settled as the scouts that Toulouse had sent forth returned. Raymond proceeds around Gaston's party to the scout.

    What news? Where are our supplies from Jaffa?? Speak!

    The scout lowers his head and shakes it before speaking that they had found the convoy, or rather, what remained of it. The Saracens had ambushed them along the road this morning or last night. There were no signs of life and the enemy had disappeared long before the scouts arrived. Raymond stamps his foot in the sand before turning to Gaston.

    God is truly testing, Lord Gaston. The heathen sneaks in and out of the sands like vipers... devouring our precious supplies with ease.


    Raymond turns to Jerusalem, gazing at it for a long time.

    Jerusalem must be taken soon or these sands will, soon enough, become our graves.
    ”You will not find any objection with me, good duke.”

    Gaston inclined his head in greeting, gaze stiffening at the ill news brought from Jaffa. They had left such a trail of destruction in their wake, it was hard not to sympathise with the enemy for stealing a little in return.

    ”In fact, I came on that very same business. Godfrey’s siege towers have grown more numerous by the day, and I believe that soon he may give the order for assault.”

    Bearn assumed none from Godfrey’s camp had bothered to send word. But they were all here for the same purpose. Or at least he hoped. Gaston gave the Count a long look.

    ”I pray you do not take it upon yourself to take these walls alone, my lord. It is united under God’s banner that we will all reclaim His holy city.”

    The words were half warning, half reproach, couched gently in the language of faith.

  8. #8
    Lucius Malfoy's Avatar Pure-Blood
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Quote Originally Posted by Gandalfus View Post
    ”You will not find any objection with me, good duke.”

    Gaston inclined his head in greeting, gaze stiffening at the ill news brought from Jaffa. They had left such a trail of destruction in their wake, it was hard not to sympathise with the enemy for stealing a little in return.

    ”In fact, I came on that very same business. Godfrey’s siege towers have grown more numerous by the day, and I believe that soon he may give the order for assault.”

    Bearn assumed none from Godfrey’s camp had bothered to send word. But they were all here for the same purpose. Or at least he hoped. Gaston gave the Count a long look.

    ”I pray you do not take it upon yourself to take these walls alone, my lord. It is united under God’s banner that we will all reclaim His holy city.”

    The words were half warning, half reproach, couched gently in the language of faith.

    I heed your words and say that I am no fool, Lord Gaston. Jerusalem may have a small garrison, but those walls might as well count for another ten thousand men!


    Raymond says, looking away to gaze once more upon Jerusalem. These fortifications were old, but they were nonetheless a menace. Same with Antioch, whose walls dated back to the time of Justinian, yet the Saracens held on firmly against the might of the crusader armies. The Count exhales, shaking his head before gesturing for the Viscount to follow him into the encampment.

    My scouts mentioned the same thing this morning. Godefroy must be preparing for a massive assault soon with the towers he has assembled.


    Raymond knew his troops were anxious for battle. For it was better to die on those walls than dying upon these sands.

    The push into Jerusalem must come soon. We will move when Godefroy does. Otherwise, we will only be throwing the dead upon those walls for no gain. God will only punish us if we divide...
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  9. #9

    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Quote Originally Posted by Lucius Malfoy View Post

    I heed your words and say that I am no fool, Lord Gaston. Jerusalem may have a small garrison, but those walls might as well count for another ten thousand men!


    Raymond says, looking away to gaze once more upon Jerusalem. These fortifications were old, but they were nonetheless a menace. Same with Antioch, whose walls dated back to the time of Justinian, yet the Saracens held on firmly against the might of the crusader armies. The Count exhales, shaking his head before gesturing for the Viscount to follow him into the encampment.

    My scouts mentioned the same thing this morning. Godefroy must be preparing for a massive assault soon with the towers he has assembled.


    Raymond knew his troops were anxious for battle. For it was better to die on those walls than dying upon these sands.

    The push into Jerusalem must come soon. We will move when Godefroy does. Otherwise, we will only be throwing the dead upon those walls for no gain. God will only punish us if we divide...
    Gaston exhaled and nodded, apparently contented with the response. They were united, then, at least for now.

    ”I shall await your word then, lord, or news from the Lord Godfrey.”

    The Viscount went silent for a moment, shifting a little in the saddle. He scratched at his chin, now bristling with unshaven hair.

    ”Have you food and water to spare, lord? My men have failed to find anything for days. If another party returns empty handed, I fear we shall have to eat the horses.”

  10. #10
    General Brewster's Avatar The Flying Dutchman
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Quote Originally Posted by cfmonkey45 View Post
    The Norman Camp



    The summer heat had begun to take its toll, and by noon it was sweltering. Heat rose from the ground in wisps from the scorching heat and made metal, armor, and swords hot to the touch, while the dry desert winds bought dust, and sand, and misery. Already, several of the small folk had succumbed to heat stroke and exhaustion. Plumes of dust were kicked up by knights and horsemen foraging for what little food there was in the barren wilderness. Within the Norman Camp, there was little that could be done to avoid the heat, except to stay within the shade where the sweat and grime combined to make a putrid odor unbearable to most. Dust would cling to the swords, the draperies, their clothes, to the sweat on their faces. With what precious little water they had, the Normans could not afford the luxury of baths or even basic hygiene.

    Within his tent, Robert took counsel with his closest companions and retainers. Alan, his brother-in-law, the Duke of Brittany, sat on his right, while Stephen, Robert's nephew, the young Count of Aumale and the once-pretender to the throne of England, sat to his left. In front of them was half empty chalice of Sekanjabin with several tankards.
    "God, this tastes like pisswater," Robert snorted. The men chuckled.

    "You sound like you speak from experience," Stephen mused. "I'm sure the Curthose would be accustomed to pisswater by now."

    "You cheeky bastard, watch your mouth before I knock another one of your teeth out," Robert replied with a grin.

    With a chuckle, Alan took a swig of the briney, sour liquid. With a scowl, he gulped down the concoction. It burned his throat and left strong after taste. "That may have been the worst drink I have ever tasted. Wasn't this supposed to be sweet? I can't taste any damn honey in this!"

    "Milord, we ran out of honey a few days ago. We only have well water and white vinegar to dilute it," one of his retainers meekly responded. The drink, Sekanjabin--when prepared correctly--was considered to be a Persian delicacy. Mixed with honey, lavendar, rosewater, and diluted with water. However, with few of these provisions on hand, the drink was mostly brine and harsh vinegar. Apart from that, few other drinks were on hand. The smallfolk and the infantry had consumed the barley, while there was no pomegranates left to make grenadine. Some of the camp followers had left to Ascalon to acquire more pomegranates, but with the Fatimid Army approaching, there was no telling when--or if--they would make it back to Jerusalem in time.

    "Well, it's not the worst drink I have ever had, but it sure does come close. I swear by the tabernacle, this may have been worse than that draught in Flanders."

    The men chuckled as they sipped their drinks. While not much, it staved off the thirst.

    "The sooner we get on with this siege the better."

    Outside the city, the Crusaders were split into two groups, one in the North comprising the bulk of the Crusader Army, led by Tancred, Robert of Flanders, Robert of Normand, and Godffrey of Bouillon, on the plains outside the city near the Christian quarter, while Raymond was position at the south near Mount Zion and the Valley of Hinnom.

    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 






    Sir John Talbot, a normal knight of little renown was in attendance. He stood slightly taller than the average men of his time with dark hair and dark eyes. A small scar near his right eye socket where he had an arrow grace his vace.
    He had followed Robert Curthose to the holy land and would participate in the fight. As he had done the entire journey. As his station as a mere knight did not mean he had much influence on any strategy regarding the taking of the city. He decided to remain in silence and observe.
    Last edited by General Brewster; November 08, 2019 at 03:24 PM.

  11. #11
    Dirty Chai's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Quote Originally Posted by Gandalfus View Post
    Amber and crimson pierced the horizon, ushering in daylight upon another day of heat, thirst, and hunger. Eustace, as was habitual, had risen early, and was stood outside in loose fitting linens watching the Sun make the slow climb over Jerusalem’s walls. Morning prayers had been once more uttered; for water and food, and perhaps some divine aid to scale these thrice damned walls if the Lord wills it so. A few of those who had horses left had been sent to search for supplies and would be enemies, and Boulogne stood witness as a company of them returned, both horse and man little more than skin and bones after days and nights of hard riding. They returned empty handed, met with sunken eyes and lowered gazes from those who had stirred in anticipation or hope or salvation. Those few that remained from the long years of campaign were hardened by their toils, and had seen many fall and go to paradise so that they might linger here, battered and hungry, before the walls of their grand prize.

    Still, not all was lost. Wooden towers had slowly sprouted in the shadow of the city walls, his brother Godfrey’s men hard at work chopping timber to craft the siege engines that would pave their road to triumph. The day that they would scale their prize was fast approaching, and the common footsoldiers were growing restless as the array of towers and catapults slowly assembled before their foes. The Count of Boulogne approached the siege weapons on horseback, now fully armoured and accompanied by the handful of his retainers that had roused themselves at this early hour. Dismounting, he silently paced around each one, inspecting the labourers at work in the sort of daily ritual that kept a man sane during the long months of siege with little water or food to sustain him. They all had their rituals. Those who did not became listless, empty shells of men that were simply waiting before the walls for their doom. Many had met that fate an Antioch, before the rousing words of the priest and their desperate sally from the gates. All were waiting on the word of Godfrey, who had not yet emerged; not even Raymond of Toulouse would begin his assault without word that the Lord of Lotharingia was doing the same. Boulogne’s brown eyes glinted golden in the Sun as he squinted up at the cloudless sky. That was when Ruthard found the count. So, his brother had finally stirred. After the German conveyed his message, the Count of Boulogne remounted, his daily ritual finished, and trotted off in the direction of the tent of his brother. Dismounting outside, Eustace handed the reins and conical helm to his squire, before pulling the flap of fabric aside and stepping through.

    “The engines are ready. Your men say that they can get us onto the walls, or bring them down before us.”

    Eustace ran a gloved hand through his helmet-flattened hair, the once bright blonde now dirty, and flecked with grey.

    “They did not even try and test the range of their arrows this time. I suspect the enemy is becoming as weary as we are.”

    So they all dearly hoped. The count once more bit his cracked lips.

    “Is it yet time?”
    Godfrey's tent was canvas, made from hemp, and once colored a bright white like snow - in order to reflect the rays of the sun - but it was now quite ochre on the exterior. Inside, it was more of a grey, perhaps from the dirt on the outside, and Godfrey kept more of armory than a bedroom. A number of retainers had surrounded him by the time the Count of Boulogne entered, and Godfrey's hauberk was nearly fastened. His arms were outstretched, and he turned his gaze to look upon his elder brother. The two men shared many features - their hair, their nose, their jawlines. Baldwin had these as well, though he was tied up with other desires than Christ's city and far away from the first two sons of the lady Ida. Godfrey, however, had his paternal grandmother's cheekbones and her eyes, which lent him an added look of pretension - an assumption made of him that took a decade to disprove. Godfrey was genuine, and he wouldn't be any less than that.

    "On the eve of the ides, I think." The 14th of the month, in but a day. A day to prepare.

    Adelolf's hands reached around Godfrey to fasten the belt beneath the chainmail, moments from finishing his armor, and the lord's arms fell to his sides.

    "The left side rather than the right, this time."

    When the princes had arrived, for three days Peter the Hermit preached on different hills around the city, and on the 6th day they made an attempt on the walls - only after expecting them to crumble as Jericho's had. This assault failed, and the princes sent groups far afield to the north and ultimately to Jaffa to capture supplies and timber. Now, two great fifty-foot siege towers were ready. One of them was going to be wheeled south for the Count of Toulouse to use. The other..

    "The north-east gatehouse will fall. We'll attack at night, under the full moon. Raymond can try wherever he likes."

    Godfrey looks away, glancing down at his tightened belt and then to his helmet resting on top of a low chest. He swoops down for it, and it comes to rest between his left arm and his hip.

    "There's less cover there, sure, but the wall is weaker, I'm certain," the middle brother explains as he returns his gaze to the eldest.

    "I've sent for Curthose and the count of Flanders. Stephen of Blois and the Normans will hear from them. We'll meet in a few hours, after nones."

  12. #12
    cfmonkey45's Avatar Praeses
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Quote Originally Posted by Dirty Chai View Post
    Godfrey's tent was canvas, made from hemp, and once colored a bright white like snow - in order to reflect the rays of the sun - but it was now quite ochre on the exterior. Inside, it was more of a grey, perhaps from the dirt on the outside, and Godfrey kept more of armory than a bedroom. A number of retainers had surrounded him by the time the Count of Boulogne entered, and Godfrey's hauberk was nearly fastened. His arms were outstretched, and he turned his gaze to look upon his elder brother. The two men shared many features - their hair, their nose, their jawlines. Baldwin had these as well, though he was tied up with other desires than Christ's city and far away from the first two sons of the lady Ida. Godfrey, however, had his paternal grandmother's cheekbones and her eyes, which lent him an added look of pretension - an assumption made of him that took a decade to disprove. Godfrey was genuine, and he wouldn't be any less than that.

    "On the eve of the ides, I think." The 14th of the month, in but a day. A day to prepare.

    Adelolf's hands reached around Godfrey to fasten the belt beneath the chainmail, moments from finishing his armor, and the lord's arms fell to his sides.

    "The left side rather than the right, this time."

    When the princes had arrived, for three days Peter the Hermit preached on different hills around the city, and on the 6th day they made an attempt on the walls - only after expecting them to crumble as Jericho's had. This assault failed, and the princes sent groups far afield to the north and ultimately to Jaffa to capture supplies and timber. Now, two great fifty-foot siege towers were ready. One of them was going to be wheeled south for the Count of Toulouse to use. The other..

    "The north-east gatehouse will fall. We'll attack at night, under the full moon. Raymond can try wherever he likes."

    Godfrey looks away, glancing down at his tightened belt and then to his helmet resting on top of a low chest. He swoops down for it, and it comes to rest between his left arm and his hip.

    "There's less cover there, sure, but the wall is weaker, I'm certain," the middle brother explains as he returns his gaze to the eldest.

    "I've sent for Curthose and the count of Flanders. Stephen of Blois and the Normans will hear from them. We'll meet in a few hours, after nones."
    Robert and his entourage had arrived at Godfrey's tent a little after the ninth hour of the day. The Crusaders were just finishing their mid-afternoon prayers and the Norman camp was preparing for battle. From the walls of Jerusalem, the call of the Asr Prayer could be heard. Robert II, Alan, Stephen, and several of their retainers had arrived outside the Godfrey's tent answering Godfrey's summons.

    "Godfrey, tell me we have a plan to breach the walls. My camp is almost out of provisions and my men have reported that the Arabs are marshaling their forces near the coast.


  13. #13

    Default The Siege of Jerusalem

    Quote Originally Posted by Dirty Chai View Post
    Godfrey's tent was canvas, made from hemp, and once colored a bright white like snow - in order to reflect the rays of the sun - but it was now quite ochre on the exterior. Inside, it was more of a grey, perhaps from the dirt on the outside, and Godfrey kept more of armory than a bedroom. A number of retainers had surrounded him by the time the Count of Boulogne entered, and Godfrey's hauberk was nearly fastened. His arms were outstretched, and he turned his gaze to look upon his elder brother. The two men shared many features - their hair, their nose, their jawlines. Baldwin had these as well, though he was tied up with other desires than Christ's city and far away from the first two sons of the lady Ida. Godfrey, however, had his paternal grandmother's cheekbones and her eyes, which lent him an added look of pretension - an assumption made of him that took a decade to disprove. Godfrey was genuine, and he wouldn't be any less than that.

    "On the eve of the ides, I think." The 14th of the month, in but a day. A day to prepare.

    Adelolf's hands reached around Godfrey to fasten the belt beneath the chainmail, moments from finishing his armor, and the lord's arms fell to his sides.

    "The left side rather than the right, this time."

    When the princes had arrived, for three days Peter the Hermit preached on different hills around the city, and on the 6th day they made an attempt on the walls - only after expecting them to crumble as Jericho's had. This assault failed, and the princes sent groups far afield to the north and ultimately to Jaffa to capture supplies and timber. Now, two great fifty-foot siege towers were ready. One of them was going to be wheeled south for the Count of Toulouse to use. The other..

    "The north-east gatehouse will fall. We'll attack at night, under the full moon. Raymond can try wherever he likes."

    Godfrey looks away, glancing down at his tightened belt and then to his helmet resting on top of a low chest. He swoops down for it, and it comes to rest between his left arm and his hip.

    "There's less cover there, sure, but the wall is weaker, I'm certain," the middle brother explains as he returns his gaze to the eldest.

    "I've sent for Curthose and the count of Flanders. Stephen of Blois and the Normans will hear from them. We'll meet in a few hours, after nones."
    ”You’re certain how? Cities are not won on feelings, Godfrey.”

    Boulogne folded his arms, thick eyebrows lowering as the wrinkling face contorted into a frown. There was a pause.

    ”North-East gatehouse then, in a day. You will see me at Nones. God help us.”

    As abruptly as he had entered, Boulogne left, presumably with the assumption that he was reappearing later at the council of war with the other nobles.
    Last edited by Gandalfus; November 09, 2019 at 05:46 AM.

  14. #14
    Lucius Malfoy's Avatar Pure-Blood
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Quote Originally Posted by Gandalfus View Post
    Gaston exhaled and nodded, apparently contented with the response. They were united, then, at least for now.

    ”I shall await your word then, lord, or news from the Lord Godfrey.”

    The Viscount went silent for a moment, shifting a little in the saddle. He scratched at his chin, now bristling with unshaven hair.

    ”Have you food and water to spare, lord? My men have failed to find anything for days. If another party returns empty handed, I fear we shall have to eat the horses.”
    Raymond pauses and looks at Gaston. Rations and supplies were running low across the army. There was very little to spare.

    Mostly stale bread and... well, watered down vinegar and wine.


    The Count of Toulouse doesn't think much of what remained. The piety within him swelled and brings him to call for his quartermaster. When he arrived, Raymond points at Gaston.

    Ensure the good Viscount's troops have food. We will stricken rations more but... we cannot have weakened allies.


    The quartermaster nods and walks away, soft grumbles heard beneath his lips. Raymond turns to Gaston.

    Its gruel, but it will give your men strength to fight, Gaston. Tell my Lord Godefroy that we will move when he is ready. And tell him we must act soon or else we all will be eating our horses and our dead.


    The Count makes a sign of the cross, hoping it would not come to such measures.
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  15. #15
    Jokern's Avatar Mowbray of Nottingham
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    The scorching sun of the Levant stood high in the sky as Tancred exited his tent after his morning prayers. The young knight covered his eyes as he looked towards the holy city of Jerusalem, that grand prize so close yet seemingly so far away. Their campaign had been plagued by shortages of supplies since day one, but it seemed like they were now reaching the very edge of catastrophe. As Tancred walked around his camp, he saw the hollow eyes of his men. If the next assault failed, would that be the end of the crusade? Tancred dared not think on such things, lest he succumbs to such a hopeless state.

    The young knight from Norman Naples scratched his beard, coarse and rough. It had grown considerably since they had left Constantinople so to not waste any precious water on shaving. The dark locks inherited from his father made him look like a Saracen himself, amplified by the flowing robes he had adopted to combat the damnable heat.


    Quote Originally Posted by Mary The Quene View Post
    As like with most others summer began to took its toll upon Richard. Even he, the sicilian norman, found to summers of the holy lands to be unbearable at times. But they were close now to their ultimate goal, that alone was all worth it in the end. He remembered now he thought of this very moment alot when he first joined the crusade. But yet Richard realized they were so close but still so far at the same time. The Holy city still had to be fought for and that required planning however.

    "Bring me Tancred, my good knight." Richard realized he'd likely end up fighting with his cousin so it was better to prepare the ultimate struggle now.
    As he paced through his camp overlooking the siege towers, a messenger approached Tancred. His cousin Richard was calling for him. He immediately thanked the messenger and made his way to Richard's quarters. He entered and offered and courteous bow.

    "May the Lord watch over you on this burning day, good cousin. Any more of this heat and we'll all turn to dust sooner or later. What did you want to talk about? The next war council will start at any moment."

    ---------------------------------------------

    Vittorio Spinola cursed and spat at the heat and the sun as much any other member of the crusade, but today he was in a particular foul mood. Everyone was at their wits' end with the lack of food and water and the damned walls of Jerusalem still standing. His brothers in arms, the proud crossbowmen from the greatest city in the world, were going catatonic from the lack of progress. Disaster was on the horizon and something had to be done soon before they reached the point of no return.

    He cursed yet again his misfortune. They were not even supposed to be at Jerusalem anyway - the Genoese had initially marched towards Ascalon before they had been forced to change course towards Jerusalem by a Fatimid army from Egypt. They had been forced to disguise themselves as merchants in order to escape. If they failed here at Jerusalem, what awaited them next? Spinola shuddered at the thought.

    With the call from Godfrey of Bouillon, Vittorio Spinola saw fit to join in as well. He made the necessary courteous greetings and then backed off to the side. The Genoese mercenary had little interest in the bickering politics of nobles.

  16. #16
    Dirty Chai's Avatar Dux Limitis
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Godfrey watched his elder brother leave, offering naught more than a silent wave after Eustace's rhetorical critic and exit. The count would return later, and Godfrey was never in a hurry to explain himself, especially to his brothers.

    Godfrey, now appearing more the part of Dux Lotharingiae, covered in a heavy hauberk which reached past his knees and with embroidered fringes in the Frisian style, went out from his tent while his household prepared it for another meeting of the princes and nobles. A number of retainers went with him, and many men recognized him on merit of his uncut blonde hair - so lengthy from the long road that the lord of Bouillon had started to wear it in a braid joined below his neck, and still long it was so that the braid then draped over his shoulder. His helmet was a gift from the emperor Henry, with engraved swans, crudely cut upon an ochre-tinted conical.

    His party strode about the north camp for a couple of hours, halting at the southern edge for a time to point ominously at different sections of Jerusalem's battered walls and the remnants of the previous assault - covered tunnels, a pair of collapsed rams, a dented wall.

    When they returned, just as the clerics were finishing afternoon prayer, Godfrey's tent had been transformed into a pavilion, as it had been in previous meetings - the walls or the tent had been thrown upwards like flaps, and the lord's private belongings had been moved out of view, creating an open yet shaded enclosure for the gathering of egos.

    "Yes, lord Robert," Godfrey stepped towards the edge of the pavilion as the Duke of Normandy approached, the first of the princes to come. "I'd not summon us all here for anything else."

    Godfrey is quick and to the point. Men starve, and the end is in sight. He turns his gaze to their left, over his shoulder, and stretches his left arm to point at the far wall of Jerusalem, where the saracen call to prayer was still echoing across the parched landscape.

    "I would have us breach the northeast gatehouse tomorrow night, under the full moon of the ides."
    Last edited by Dirty Chai; November 09, 2019 at 04:26 AM.

  17. #17

    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Guglielmo was fanning himself with a straw hat, sitting before his small tent. He was looking somberly at the siege tower, a distance before him. That was his old good Saint George, ah, poor, poor thing. He was sipping, or rather, pouring wine down his throat. His men were around playing dice, drinking, talking loud and just screwing around. The crossbows were all around them, the quivers full of bolts. Most of them were Ligurian, like he, coming from the the good Republic. Aye, those fancypants didn't appreciate them enough. A good bolt to the head and even the tallest of them would fall like a trunk. Hehe.

    God, this wine is so bad. Oh.


    He noticed some movement around Godefroi's tent. That meant trouble.

    "Hey, hey, Primo, Giorgio, Baldasare, nails of Christ, this might be the time! Move your asses now, what're you, clergymen in their skirts? Come on! Giovanni, I swear on all the saints that I'm going to have your scalp for dinner, boy"

    The crossbowmen started to ready themselves, grunting and complaining; some were blaspheming profusely. Embriaco placed the padding, the mail coif and the round helmet over his head and he walked leisurely towards the duke's tent. He guessed he had to know if the assault was being prepared or not. Whistling, the arrived to the tent and stayed behind the lords, both hands in belt.

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  18. #18
    Jokern's Avatar Mowbray of Nottingham
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Vittorio Spinola sighed to himself when he noticed the arrival of Guglielmo Embriaco at the meeting. The man had a remarkable talent for angering Spinola, which had made the journey from Genoa to Jaffa a very long one. It was almost a miracle one of them had not killed the other on the way to Jerusalem, but here they were. Instead of engaging in conversation, Vittorio decided to just keep quiet for now and calm his humors through a silent prayer to St George.

  19. #19

    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Quote Originally Posted by Lucius Malfoy View Post
    Raymond pauses and looks at Gaston. Rations and supplies were running low across the army. There was very little to spare.

    Mostly stale bread and... well, watered down vinegar and wine.


    The Count of Toulouse doesn't think much of what remained. The piety within him swelled and brings him to call for his quartermaster. When he arrived, Raymond points at Gaston.

    Ensure the good Viscount's troops have food. We will stricken rations more but... we cannot have weakened allies.


    The quartermaster nods and walks away, soft grumbles heard beneath his lips. Raymond turns to Gaston.

    Its gruel, but it will give your men strength to fight, Gaston. Tell my Lord Godefroy that we will move when he is ready. And tell him we must act soon or else we all will be eating our horses and our dead.


    The Count makes a sign of the cross, hoping it would not come to such measures.
    Gaston inclined his head in thanks. Raymond was a good man at heart, when he did not let politics or pride get the better of him.

    ”My thanks, Lord, this shall not be forgotten. I shall convey your message to Lord Godfrey this very day. If the hour of battle is near, expect a messenger.”

    The lord of Bearn departed, escorting the supplies over to his encampment before word reached him that the important princes were beginning to gather in Bouillon’s tent.

    Quote Originally Posted by Dirty Chai View Post
    Godfrey watched his elder brother leave, offering naught more than a silent wave after Eustace's rhetorical critic and exit. The count would return later, and Godfrey was never in a hurry to explain himself, especially to his brothers.

    Godfrey, now appearing more the part of Dux Lotharingiae, covered in a heavy hauberk which reached past his knees and with embroidered fringes in the Frisian style, went out from his tent while his household prepared it for another meeting of the princes and nobles. A number of retainers went with him, and many men recognized him on merit of his uncut blonde hair - so lengthy from the long road that the lord of Bouillon had started to wear it in a braid joined below his neck, and still long it was so that the braid then draped over his shoulder. His helmet was a gift from the emperor Henry, with engraved swans, crudely cut upon an ochre-tinted conical.

    His party strode about the north camp for a couple of hours, halting at the southern edge for a time to point ominously at different sections of Jerusalem's battered walls and the remnants of the previous assault - covered tunnels, a pair of collapsed rams, a dented wall.

    When they returned, just as the clerics were finishing afternoon prayer, Godfrey's tent had been transformed into a pavilion, as it had been in previous meetings - the walls or the tent had been thrown upwards like flaps, and the lord's private belongings had been moved out of view, creating an open yet shaded enclosure for the gathering of egos.

    "Yes, lord Robert," Godfrey stepped towards the edge of the pavilion as the Duke of Normandy approached, the first of the princes to come. "I'd not summon us all here for anything else."

    Godfrey is quick and to the point. Men starve, and the end is in sight. He turns his gaze to their left, over his shoulder, and stretches his left arm to point at the far wall of Jerusalem, where the saracen call to prayer was still echoing across the parched landscape.

    "I would have us breach the northeast gatehouse tomorrow night, under the full moon of the ides."
    Boulogne was once again present, standing at the right hand side of his brother in a show of obvious support. The eldest was an inch shorter than his younger sibling, who appeared as a more youthful and vigorous equivalent to the taciturn Count. Eustace was contented to let his brother command the attention, as he had been for the entire expedition; Godfrey had sacrificed almost everything in pursuit of the Holy City. Between the dour eldest and the bellicose youngest, the lord of Lorraine was perhaps the best of them, something that Boulogne had long since made his peace with once the years of youthful quarrelling were done.

    ”The plan is sound. Jerusalem will be ours tomorrow, though if the Lord of Toulouse will aid us is yet to be known.”

    There would be no debate. It would be the northeastern gate or nothing.




    Gaston arrived with his own retinue at the assembly as more nobles filtered through, demanding loudly that the minor knights and lordlings step aside. Once he had reached the greater princes, he halted, and dusted himself off.

    ”My lords, I bring word from the Count of Toulouse. He awaits the arrival of his siege tower, and word upon when he should assault the walls.”

  20. #20
    chesser2538's Avatar Senator
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    Default Re: The Siege of Jerusalem

    Stephen de Blois made his way to Godfrey's encampment, which had been expanded to a pavilion. Men gathered around in groups idly talking among themselves. In the distance the sound of thousands of men laboring could be heard. A foul inescapable smell hung in the air and everyone wore a growth of beard and a layer of grime. There was a tension in the air, a feeling only found on the eve of battle. Finding a satisfactory spot, Stephen stood and waited for the debates to begin.





    Earlier that same day a different man was making his own preparations for the upcoming battle. He was older with a graying beard and long hair. His clothing plain and unassuming, few would have guessed upon looking upon him that he had led thousands across a continent in pursuit of a holy mission. Trailblazing the path that many others would follow. Though he had not gained acclaim for his actions, there was no denying that he had done them. Many nobles may look down on his common upbringing, but they still gathered to hear his words. For this mission was ordained by god and he Peter was his messenger.


    So it was on this day that the Muslim defenders on the walls of Jerusalem watched with astonishment as the army of the Franks became a barefoot, unarmed pilgrimage. Singing prayers and bearing relics… walking around the walls of Jerusalem coming at last to the mount of Olives. The culmination of a week long fast. Here Peter the Hermit would deliver a sermon inspiring the thousands just as he had done on the plains of France… at the start of the Crusades.

    He spoke of glory, worthy deeds, and absolution. Of greet reward both on worldly and heavenly. Of their oaths, and the importance of seeing them fulfilled.

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