flag flying over the citadel, instead of their own. From his own point of view, the Emperor was evidently right. The Crusaders had sworn to protect his empire; he claimed sovereignty over all these lands; his object was neither to revenge the death of a horde of invaders, nor to devastate the towns, nor to destroy the country—but to recover and preserve. Nicæa, at least, was almost within his reach; and though he could not expect that his authority would be recognised in the south of Asia Minor, or in Syria, he had reason to hope that here at any rate, so near to Constantinople, and so recently after the oaths of the princes, it would be recognised. So, certainly, thought the princes; for, in spite of the unrepressed indignation of the army, they refrained from pillaging the town and murdering the infidels, and gave the word to march. It was now early summer; the soldiers had not yet experienced the power of an Asiatic sun; no provision was made against the dangers of famine and thirst, and their way led through a land parched with heat, devastated by wars, over rocky passes, across pathless plains. The Crusaders neither knew the country, nor made any preparations, beyond carrying provisions for two or three days. They were, moreover, encumbered with their camp-followers, their baggage, and the weight of their arms. They were divided, principally for convenience of forage, into two _corps d’armée_, of which one was commanded by Godfrey, Raymond, Robert of Flanders, and the Count of Vermandois, while the other was led by the three Norman chiefs, Robert, Tancred, and Bohemond. For seven days all went well, the armies having completely lost sight of each other, but confident, after their recent successes, that there would be no more enemies at hand to combat. They were mistaken. Tancred’s division, on the evening of the 30th of June, pitched their camp in a valley called by William of Tyre the valley of Gorgona. It was protected on one side by a river, on the other by a marsh filled with reeds. The night was passed in perfect security, but at daybreak the enemy was upon them. Bohemond took the command. Placing the women and the sick in the midst, he divided the cavalry into three brigades, and prepared to dispute the passage of the river. The Saracens discharged their arrows into the thick ranks of the Crusaders, whose wounded horses confused and disordered them. Unable to endure these attacks with patience, the Christians crossed the river and charged their enemies; but the Saracens, mounted on lighter horses, made way for them to pass, and renewed the discharge of their arrows. Another band, taking advantage of the knights having crossed the river, forded it at a higher point, and attacked the camp itself. Then the slaughter of the sick and wounded, and even of the women, save those whose beauty was sufficient to ransom their lives, began. On the other side of the stream the knights fought every one for himself.