The domestic relations of Fulke were somewhat complicated, but they bear a certain special interest for English readers.[62] His father, Fulke, the Count of Touraine and Anjou, was married three times, and had one child from each marriage. His third wife, Bertrade, the mother of King Fulke, ran away from him, and became the mistress of King Philip of France, by whom she had three children. One of them was that Cæcilia who married Tancred, and, after his death, Count Pons. Fulke, by means of his mother’s influence, making a wealthy marriage, was the father of that Geoffrey Plantagenet who married Matilda of England, and produced the Plantagenet line. His daughter Matilda was also betrothed to William, the son of Henry I., and, on the drowning of that prince, she went into a convent, where she remained. Another daughter, Sybille, married Thierry, Count of Flanders. By his second wife, Milicent, Fulke had two sons, Baldwin and Amaury, both of whom became, in turn, Kings of Jerusalem. Footnote 62: See Genealogical Table, p. 268. In the first year of King Fulke’s reign died that stout old warrior, Jocelyn of Edessa. His end was worthy of his life. In the preceding year he had been besieging a fort or castle near Aleppo, and had ordered a certain town to be undermined. While he was personally superintending the works, the tower suddenly fell and buried the old count beneath its ruins. They extricated him, but his legs and limbs were broken, and he never walked again. He retained, however, his power of speech and his lofty courage, and when, next year, the news came that the Sultan of Iconium was besieging in force one of his strong places, he sent for his son and ordered him to collect all the men and knights he could, and march at once to the rescue. But young Jocelyn, who was, like most of the Syrian-born Christians, little better than a cur, refused flatly, alleging as an excuse the disproportion of numbers. The old man, sorrowful at heart on account of his son’s cowardice, and foreboding the troubles which would surely come after his own death, ordered his litter to be prepared, and was carried at the head of his own army to the relief of the fort. The news reached the Saracens that old Jocelyn was coming himself, and at the very mention of his name they broke up their camp and fled. “And when he heard this, the count ordered those who carried his litter to place it on the ground; then raising his hands to heaven, with tears and sighs, he returned thanks to God, who had visited him in his affliction, and had thus favoured him by suffering him once more, and for the last time, to be formidable to the enemies of Christ. And while he poured out his thanks to heaven, he breathed his last.” There was now no one left of the old crusading chiefs, and their spirit was dead.