Impure: Chronicles and Words of Baldwin “the Leper” King of Jerusalem
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Impure - Ginter Gorbaev
Ginter Gorbaev
Impure
Chronicles and Words of Baldwin the Leper
King of Jerusalem
The book was written with the intention of highlighting the dangers of religious fanaticism.
Impressum
Original Title: Nečist (Životopis i slova Boduena Gubavca kralja Jerusalimskog)
By Ginter Gorbaev
© 2011 Ginter Gorbaev
Title: Impure (Chronicles and Words of Baldwin the Leper
King of Jerusalem)
Translated by Ginter Gorbaev
© 2024 Ginter Gorbaev
All rights reserved.
This ebook, including all its parts, is protected by copyright and must not be copied, reselled or shared without the permission of the author.
Author: Ginter Gorbaev
Contact: gintergorbaev@hotmail.com
ISBN: 9783689830076
Verlag GD Publishing Ltd. & Co KG, Berlin
E-Book Distribution: XinXii
www.xinxii.com
logo_xinxiiIf you liked the book, then recommend your friends to download their own copy on XinXii.com. Thank you very much for respecting the work of the author!
Table of Contents
Prelude: Deus lo vult1
Part One – The Lord's Sepulcher
Baldwin's First Letter: A reflection on the self
Baldwin's Second Letter: On the Foe
Baldwin’s Third Letter: The tale of a greedy man
Part Two – Montgisard
Baldwin's Fourth Letter: Of Doubt
Baldwin's Fifth Letter: On Misguided Faith
Baldwin’s Seventh Letter: Tale of the Priest
Part Three – Greed
Baldwin's Seventh Letter: On Friendship
Baldwin’s Eighth Letter: About the Pure and the Impure
Baldwin’s Ninth Letter: Tale of the proud-spirited Prince
Part Four – Kerak17
Baldwin's Tenth Letter: About the State
Baldwin’s eleventh letter: On Man
Baldwin’s Twelfth Letter: Tale of Travelers
Part Five – Holy Land
Baldwin's Thirteenth Letter: Of Jerusalem
Baldwin’s Fourteenth Letter: The Last Day
Baldwins Fifteenth Letter: The Tale of Reuel
Part Six – The Horns of Hattin
Addendum: Destinies
Author's Bio:
Notes
Special thanks for the help and support to: Jasmina Lečnik, Dušica Jovanović, Ivana Maksić, Miloš Rakić, Đorđe Savić and Delaney La Fae
Prelude: Deus lo vult
¹
Lord, why are thou merciful to us, thy progeny, permitting us to defile Thy creations and poison our souls? Lord, why dost thou reveal thyself to us who are unworthy to cast eyes upon others, let alone gaze upon the pure face of Goodness? Why, when our hearts are filled with hatred and the sigh we exhale reeks of malice? Lord, why dost thou send us those with warm hearts and virtuous souls, only for us to tear them apart like lions tearing at zebras and scatter them in the dumps? Lord, we are lost in this senseless labyrinth of sin, and there is no prayer that can calm our foreheads or tears whose warmth can thaw the ice encasing our hearts. We are not worthy to utter Thy name, for our misdeeds outnumber the grains of sand in Palestine. Lord, the cries of our victims reach the stars, and the stench of our kingdoms overtakes them. Our guilt is overwhelming. We have draped ourselves with blood and shame like no other people before us. Grant Thy anger upon us when we prove ourselves unworthy of Thy mercy.
On the twenty-seventh day of November in the year 1095, on the second day of the congregation in Clermont, Pope Urban II delivered a speech on the profanity of sacred sites, on Jerusalem abandoned to mercy and cruelty; on Christians suffering Muslim torments; on the Greek² catastrophe at Manzikert; on Islam, which had knocked on Europe's door from the East, and on Emperor Alexius Comnenos, who desperately sought the aid of true believing brethren. Struck by his words, our bodies trembled, and tears were shed. Then, the Pope summoned all of Christendom to arms, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, urging us to free Jerusalem from the hands of the infidels and sacrifice our petty quarrels to the Holy War! A mighty army responded to the call. Hundreds of counts and barons, thousands of knights, among them my sinful self, and countless ordinary believers rallied under the banner of the cross. We were led by the 'Fair-haired Giant' - Duke Godfrey of Bouillon and his brothers from Lorraine - Eustace III and Baldwin of Boulogne - progeny of Charlemagne. Also, Raymond of Saint-Gilles, the Toulouse prince who expelled the Moors from Spain; Robert of Normandy, son of William the Conqueror; Robert II of Flanders; Bishop Adhemar of Le Puy; and Mark of Teranto, known as Bohemond (the giant), commander of the Normans from Sicily, and his nephew Tankred.
Like doves we went forth, but arrived as hyenas! For we arrived before the city of Mare on the River Noman, in the month of November of the year 1098. since the time when the Son of God tread upon this Hallowed Soil, enraptured by hatred, lust, vainglory, and other loathsome urges; to besmirch Your name and secure a place for ourselves in the eternal flames of hell. We were brought by Raymond of Saint-Gilles and Bohemond of Taranto, brave and proud, yet greedy and without fear of God; we, who wore crosses stitched onto our garments but not upon our souls. Why, O Lord? Why, when after two weeks of futile siege, pressed by hunger, we slaughtered our dogs and horses, consuming their tainted flesh? Why did you not leave us to wither beneath the walls of that foreign city, in this unfamiliar land, in our rage and madness, but instead, you showed mercy to our wretchedness and corruption, allowing us to enter, where, like a plague, we spread and transformed into beasts?
"As the dominion of the city, also left bereft of sustenance, turned to us with these words: 'We shall yield Mare if you pledge the lives of all our inhabitants.'
And we pledged. Without a shred of shame, we swore by the living God, knowing we wouldn't fulfill a single letter of our oath. We pledged peace, though aware we couldn't quell the hunger in our bodies for war. At dawn on the twelfth of December, rain poured like tears of God Himself as the gates opened, and we entered, horrifying the populace dwelling within. For we slaughtered everything that breathed and emitted cries. We sent to the lap of death twenty thousand faithless souls who desperately pleaded for salvation with frightened eyes and child cries, huddled in their familial homes. May a merciful heaven embrace them. And when nothing remained to heal, our gaze turned to the cadavers strewn across blood-stained streets. We disrobed the elderly, stuffing them into pots, while children were impaled upon spits, roasted over hearths, their flesh sliced and devoured raw. Not a single creature, be it beast or human, remained untouched by our insatiable hunger.
For three days, the city burned like a pyre in the sharp smoke of houses, temples, and human entrails. For three days, with mad shouts, man celebrated victory in a demonic revelry, inflating chests with curses of roasted human flesh. For three days, an impossible, unfathomable evil swallowed souls within the walls of the city of Mare. For we leaped and screamed around the cauldrons, bodies akin devils descended to create Satan's realm on earth. Until the fourth day, when those untouched by the death-loving curse, whose eyes had not yet been blinded by the sweet Saracen blood, realized: the battle was lost! Betrayal! We betrayed thee, O Lord! We could not withstand temptation, spilled innocent blood before thine eyes, O Almighty! Thou didst extend thy hand, and we defiled it. We were ungrateful and abused thy kindness to profane thy footsteps. Some fled back, tormented by conscience, while I and most continued to burn, plunder, and kill, mad in both soul and body. And we did not cease until the Holy City was bathed in blood.
Therefore, I implore you, O Lord, unleash thy vengeance upon us, for we have earned it. Let our name be erased as if we never walked upon this Earth. Have mercy on the wayward slaves and sever us as we once severed our foes! Look upon us, O Lord; do not forsake your servants in madness and despair. Unleash the flames of justice upon us, that in this world, we may bear a portion of our punishment. Show mercy, even though we failed to show it to our enemies. Do not abandon us, O Lord! Do not burden our progeny with our sins, for our curses are boundless, and it is difficult for those upon whose shoulders they fall to bear the toll of our sacrileges. Do not forsake us, O Lord! Have mercy on our kin, even though we did not show mercy to the kin of our enemies. Grant us our calvary. Let the fire sear our skin, let beasts tear our bodies, let disease and hunger afflict us, but do not abandon us, O Benevolent One! For as Thy plagues whip us, we shall know that Thou art still with us, and there is hope. Extend to us a chance in our pain, a chance we failed to seize in joy. Do not depart from us, O Lord! We have erred like no other living being, and our atrocities are countless. But please do not transfer the blame to our children; do not let them suffer the horrors we have wrought. Do not judge them for our sins, O Lord!
Part One – The Lord's Sepulcher
I was sick, and you embraced me; I dwelled within prison walls, and you sought me out.
Gospel according to Matthew, chapter 25, verse 36.
It is May, and the Sun fractures the soil, drying rivers and quenching wells. It is May, where snakes slither boldly, vultures circle, and the grass begins to yellow. It is May, and the entire Orient braces for the impending famine, yet Jerusalem is damp. Through its streets flow tears of sorrow from a forsaken citizens. Silence reigns, articulating that which mere words cannot encompass. Fear and apprehension emanate from the crimson eyes of