The Franks camped before the Holy City on 7 June, the Year of Our Lord 1099. Tancred and the Portal of the Temple immediately scoured the surrounding hills, whilst the other leaders decided on what to do. Fierce debate raged for days. Hugh and Godefroi relayed the discussions to their own followers. Eleanor, escorted by Theodore and a group of mounted men-at-arms, inspected the Holy City, which, to all appearances, lay calm and watchful. Jerusalem’s Egyptian commander Iftikhar commanded a garrison of Turks and Saracens twenty thousand in number, with an elite corps of Ethiopian warriors and almost five hundred of Egypt’s best cavalry. The city, so the Franks learnt from spies, was well provisioned, with many underground water cisterns. The Franks were not so fortunate. Iftikhar had torched the land around Jerusalem, seizing or killing livestock and emptying granaries. Worse, he had also poisoned or broken all wells, cisterns and springs outside the city. Summer was at its height, the sun already scorching the bleak surrounding countryside. The only source of good water was the pool of Siloam to the south of the city, near the entrance to the Kedron valley at the foot of Mount Sion. A small lake, Siloam was only fed every three days by a spring and lay within an easy bowshot of skilful archers on the city walls.
Eleanor, even on her ride around the city walls, experienced a deep desperation. The sun was relentless, whilst along the battlements flashed the glint of armour and the shiny iron-weighted cups of the catapults and ballistae. Black smoke billowed from the many pots and cauldrons whilst the acrid stench of sulphur, brimstone and hot oil drifted on the dusty breeze. Gates and postern doors were bricked up, every battlement fortified. Jerusalem was no heavenly city but a mighty grim fortress ready for battle.
Hugh’s description, as Eleanor wrote in her chronicle, did nothing to reassure her. Once they had pitched tents, the Portal of the Temple gathered to the north of the city. They squatted under a makeshift awning facing a slab of sandstone; on this, using a piece of charcoal, Hugh scrawled a rough outline of the city defences.
‘The walls,’ he pushed back his cowl, ‘are about three miles long, fifty feet high and in places nine feet thick.’ He stilled their cries and exclamations. ‘Think of Jerusalem as a twisted rectangle almost a mile across from west to east and about the same north to south.’ He made a mark on the sandstone. ‘We are camped here to the north-west. We can only attack the city from the west or the north. The eastern side is protected by a deep gorge or valley called Josaphat.’ Hugh shook his head. ‘It would be impossible to launch an attack from there. The only gate, the Josaphat postern in the north-east section of the walls, is completely bricked up. On the south-east of the city stretches the Kedron valley. On the south-west stands Mount Sion; further along lies the valley of Hinnon.’
‘You must understand.’ Godefroi got to his feet, gesturing at the crude drawing. ‘Jerusalem’s walls are protected on its eastern, southern and south-western flank by hills that fall steeply into three valleys, the Kedron, Josaphat and Hinnon. Only the north and north-west provide flatter ground for attack: here the city defences are reinforced by an outer wall and a deep dry moat. This exposed part of the city is pierced by five gates, from Herod Gate in the north round the western wall to the Sion Gate in the south. Each of these five entrances, Herod, St Stephen, New Gate, Jaffa and Sion, is protected by a pair of soaring towers. Two fortified citadels offer further defence: in the north-west corner stands the Quadrangular Tower, and further down the western wall the Tower of David. Both,’ Godefroi’s voice grew stronger, ‘are built of solid masonry, large stones sealed with mortar and lead. Godfrey of Bouillon, Robert of Normandy, Robert of Flanders and Tancred will lay siege from St Stephen Gate to the Quadrangular Tower. Count Raymond of Toulouse will camp opposite the Tower of David, though some claim he will soon move to Sion Gate.’
‘It’s like Antioch!’ someone shouted. ‘We cannot lay siege to the entire city, and where are our engines of war? There’s no wood!’
‘And where do we go?’ Beltran asked jumping to his feet. ‘North, south, east or west?’ His question provoked guffaws of laughter.
‘We wait!’ Hugh shouted back.‘If these walls are breached, we as a company have one place to reach, the Dome of the Rock. No other…’
His words were drowned by the bray of horns, the shrill of trumpets, men shouting and running. Eleanor scrambled to her feet as a dust-covered herald brandishing a crudely fashioned crucifix, his symbol of office, came running up.
‘We attack tomorrow,’ he announced.
‘Nonsense!’ Hugh retorted. ‘There are no-’
‘Our leaders,’ the man gasped, ‘rode up to view the city from the Mount of Olives. A hermit sheltering in a cave came out to greet them. He prophesied that if they attack at first light tomorrow and fight to the ninth hour, victory will be ours.’
Hugh and Godefroi tried to restrain the enthusiasm of their own followers, pointing out that the leaders simply wished to test the city defences. Beltran agreed with them, shouting questions about the whereabouts of scaling ladders, battering rams and towers.
‘Only one ladder is needed,’ the herald gasped. ‘Deus providebit — God will provide.’
The rest of the day and subsequent night were taken up with searching for wood. Tancred claimed he’d miraculously found some in a nearby cave, though everyone knew he had suffered a painful attack of dysentery and gone into the cave to relieve himself. Whatever its source, the carpenters became busy, using the poor light of candles and lantern horns to piece together ladders out of palm stems, soft poplar, tamarisk and the twisted wood of olive trees. By dawn, Tancred’s men were ready, massing directly between New Gate and St Stephen. Hugh and Godefroi, however, decided not to commit the Portal of the Temple but stood on the brow of a hill and watched the attack unfold.
The sun had almost risen, its glare lifting, as Tancred’s men formed a testudo, shields locked above their heads, and advanced, going down into the moat and up to attack the outer wall. They were immediately met by a lashing storm of arrows and missiles from the battlements. Saracen and Turkish archers leaned over the ramparts, bows extended. Here and there one of these figures, hit by a Frankish missile, slipped and toppled over, arms and legs splayed, to bounce against the wall before crashing to the ground. Banners curled and flapped. Plumes of black smoke from cauldrons of oil, boiling water and sticky pitch hovered like dark wraiths across the battlements. The war cries of both Frank and Turk drifted on the air. Eleanor always found it strange that both sides could be so earnest in their beliefs, though Theodore had informed her that what united the various factions of Islam, Turk, Saracen and Egyptian was the firm belief among them all that Jerusalem was Al Kuds, the Holy Place. The defenders along the battlements were determined to fight just as passionately as the Franks in defence of their sacred sites.
The air became riven with the blood-chilling whoosh of catapults and mangonels. The testudo, however, was now close against the outer wall. Godefroi and Hugh were talking excitedly. The defenders, because of the huddle of buildings so close to the wall, were limited in moving their engines of war backwards and forwards. So cramped was the space that the engineers were unable to calculate the narrow distance between the attackers and themselves. Accordingly the rain of missiles did little damage to the Franks but smashed into the already crumbling outer wall. This was quickly breached, and an entire section collapsed, provoking a great roar of triumph from both the attackers and those watching from the camp. Eleanor and her companions now had a clear view of what was happening. Tancred’s testudo reached the great inner wall only to be met by a hail of rocks, arrows, pots of fire and flaming bundles of pitch, an avalanche of deadly missiles. Nevertheless the testudo held firm. The great ladder was produced. Figures swiftly scaled its rungs, swords drawn, heads and faces protected by their great oval shields. For a few heartbeats Eleanor thought the walls would be stormed and taken. Black clouds of smoke swirled across, then, very faintly, the lonely sound of a hunting horn sounded the retreat. The testudo reformed, climbing back through the breach in the outer wall, the rearguard struggling to bring back their ladder.