All these motives, joined to the thirst for pillage, lit up the fires of persecution. Emicio and Volkmar gave both the signal and the example. At their voice a furious multitude spread themselves through the cities of the Rhine and the Moselle, massacring pitilessly all the Jews that they met with in their passage. In their despair, a great number of these victims preferred being their own destroyers, to awaiting certain death at the hands of their enemies. Several shut themselves up in their houses, and perished amidst flames which they themselves had kindled; some fastened large stones to their garments, and precipitated themselves and their treasures into the Rhine or the Moselle. Mothers stifled their children at the breast, saying that they preferred sending them thus to the bosom of Abraham, to seeing them given up to the fury of the Christians. Women and old men implored pity to assist them to die; all these wretched creatures calling upon death as earnestly as other men ask for life. In the midst of these scenes of desolation, history takes pleasure in doing justice to the enlightened zeal of the bishops of Worms, Trèves, Mayence, and Spiers, who raised the voice of religion and humanity, and opened their palaces as so many asylums for the Jews against the pursuit of murderers and villains. The soldiers of Emicio prided themselves upon their exploits, and scenes of carnage filled them with exultation. As proud as if they had conquered the Saracens, they set out on their march, loaded with booty, invoking the heaven they had so cruelly outraged. They were slaves to the most brutal superstition, and caused themselves to be preceded by a goat and a goose, to which they attributed something divine.[56] These mean animals at the head of the battalions were as their chiefs, and shared the respect and confidence of the multitude, with all those who furnished examples of the most horrible excesses. All people fled at the approach of these dreaded champions of the cross. Christians who met them on their route were forced to applaud their zeal, whilst trembling for fear of becoming victims to it. This unrestrained multitude, without being acquainted with the people or the countries through which they had to pass, ignorant even of the disasters of those who had preceded them in this perilous career, advanced like a hurricane towards the plains of Hungary. Mersbourg shut its gates upon them, and refused them provisions. They were indignant that so little respect should be shown to the soldiers of Christ, and deemed it their duty to treat the Hungarians as they had treated the Jews. Mersbourg,[57] situated on the Leytha, a river which flows into the Danube, was defended by marshes. The Crusaders crossed the river, cut down a forest, and formed a causeway, which conducted them close under the walls of the place. After some preparation the signal was given, the ladders were raised against the ramparts, and the general assault was begun.