The First Crusade is one of the greatest adventures in all of history: an armed pilgrimage of 2000+ miles testing the human spirit in the most intense ways. Battles, famines, disasters, miracles, etc.
Plus there was a famous duel between a great warrior and a bear. 🧵
In his chronicles of the First Crusade, William of Tyre recounts the harrowing episode of Godfrey of Bouillon and others taking to the woods to hunt game in Pisidia, on the way to Antioch.
Godfrey heard a loud roar from a ways away, rode toward it, and there found an “enormous” bear chasing a man. It was later confirmed to be a man-eater.
Naturally he (and his brave horse) rushed toward the bear, which gave up pursuit of its original victim and attacked Godfrey.
The bear wounded the horse and the man was now on foot. He went to finish the bear with a big swing of his sword, but it didn’t quite land.
The bear countered with a takedown of his own, pinned Godfrey to the ground, and even got its teeth into Godfrey’s throat.
It got worse for the legendary Crusader. His sword had cut into his own leg, opening an artery.
With one final effort, Godfrey mustered the last of his famous strength and “seized the monster with his left hand and with his right plunged the sword up to the hilt in the side of the struggling beast.”
As he did, another knight also struck a great blow to the bear.
Godfrey was left nearly lifeless. They carried his body back to camp and people wailed at the sight of the great men laid so low.
They also brought with the bear he had helped kill, and the starving Crusaders got some badly needed red meat. Pilgrims said they “had never seen anything like it in size.”
A very mixed blessing: they would get to eat, but they appeared to have lost their leader.
But God wasn't done with his warrior.
Godfrey reappears in the chronicles at the Siege of Antioch. William notes that Godfrey had recovered “fully from the serious illness which had long troubled him, the result of the wound which he had suffered from a bear.”
Legend.
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One of the unsung heroes of the third Crusade was a priest who dove from the battlements of the Jaffa into the sea and swam to Richard the Lionheart’s galley with a cry for help.🧵
Richard had been in Acre making preparations to return to England to deal with the urgent business there (traitors trying to take his kingdom). The Crusade was over, he thought, a brilliant but doomed campaign which he planned to return to after taking back his own kingdom.
Then he heard about Saladin’s surprise attack against Jaffa.
He sailed back to Jaffa and arrived thinking that it was too late; Saracen banners had been raised and the city appeared to have been taken.
A pattern you recognize when reading history is that we can count on being outnumbered. The enemy is so often legion.
One of the greatest mechanisms for maximizing this numerical superiority was the janissary program of the Ottoman Turks. 🧵
This thread will get dark, but a note of hope emerges at the end (as always).
Turkish for “new soldier,” janissaries were elite infantrymen unleashed against the enemies of the Ottomans, like the Christian people of the Balkans.
What made the corps truly devastating was the origin of these soldiers: they were taken from Christian families as boys, indoctrinated in Ottoman ways, and then turned loose against their own people!
Just how dark were the Dark Ages?
Were they hopelessly backwards and barbaric—as we've been led to believe—or were they a time of surprising innovation?🧵
To clarify, I’m talking about the actual Dark Ages, from about the Fall of the Western Roman Empire to the 11th century, or so. I am not talking about the Middle Ages, which are sometimes called "dark" but which obviously weren’t dark.
Intellectuals like Voltaire, Rousseau, and Gibbon are on the record as saying that the Dark Ages are defined by barbarism and backwardness, and their claims have gladly seized upon by public school teachers and pop culture-makers.
On September 12, 1683, one of the greatest cavalry charges in history took place at Kahlenberg Hill, overlooking Vienna, where Jan III Sobieski and his winged hussars saved Christendom from disaster. 🧵
Just a few days back, the Viennese fired distress rockets into the night sky to let any friends who might be out there know that they needed help—now or never. The city had been under siege for almost two months by the Ottoman Turks.
The Turks had already blasted multiple breaches in the walls and the Austrians only barely repulsed them. They couldn't hold out much longer.
A lesson to taken from the legend of the dragon of Silene is that when men fail to confront the evil before them the price will be their children's blood. Another lesson is that one brave man can change everything. 🧵
Long before St George's arrival on the scene, the city of Silene had been terrorized by a dragon with "envenoming" breath. The townspeople went with weapons to meet him. "And when they saw him," the Golden Legend says, "they fled."
It continues: "And when he came nigh the city he venomed the people with his breath, and therefore the people of the city gave to him every day two sheep for to feed him, because he should do no harm to the people."
On August 31, 1217, Fernando III—one of the greatest men nobody's ever heard of—was crowned King of Castile.
He was eighteen years old and would spend his illustrious reign reclaiming more land from the Moors than any other king of the Reconquista. 🧵
Fernando never lost a battle against the Moors. He took Cazorla, Úbeda, Niebla, Murcia, Cartagena, Jaén, and more. He took Cordoba and reclaimed the bells of Santiago. He took the jewel of Al-Andalus, Sevilla, after an impossible siege.
By the time of his death in 1252, the Reconquista was practically finished—with only Granada remaining to the Moors (and reduced to a vassal-state of Castile). The Pope named him Athleta Christi for his defense of Christendom.