Free Armies of Heaven by Jay Rubenstein Page A

Peter’s footsteps. All of them seem to have departed around the end of April 1096. One, estimated at over 10,000 men and women, was led by a monk named Folkmar, who had given up his vows and abandoned his monastery to pursue dreams of Jerusalem. Folkmar chose a slightly different path from Walter and Peter, leading his followers into Bavaria and, apparently, through Prague. There, around June 1, his message inspired yet another pogrom against the Jews. His army also seemed to have had fewer aristocrats among its leaders; an
observer in Prague wrote that, in the wake of the army’s departure, “hardly any farmers remained in the towns and villages in German lands, particularly in East Francia.”
    Folkmar had the misfortune to enter Hungary shortly after King Coloman had ordered his attack against Peter the Hermit at Zemun. Coloman had by now repeatedly given the Frankish armies the benefit of the doubt. For Folkmar’s warrior band, composed largely of agricultural laborers, neither the king nor his subjects had any patience. During negotiations for markets at the city of Nitra, “trouble was stirred up.” The locals responded swiftly: They put part of Folkmar’s army to the sword and enslaved many of the rest. A few crusaders managed to escape and make their way back to Europe. To save face for having abandoned the cause, they explained that a cross had appeared in the sky to guide them away from Nitra and save them from immediate destruction. 11
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    FURTHER DETAILS on Folkmar’s experiences in Hungary are vague. The story of another army, led by a priest called Gottschalk, might help fill some of the gaps.
    Gottschalk heard Peter the Hermit preach the liberation of Jerusalem and took inspiration from his message to raise his own army. According to Albert of Aachen, it numbered around 15,000 people, who, like Peter’s army, took the land route into Hungary toward the end of April. They arrived at Moson, Coloman’s capital, around June 20, just about the time Coloman began to hear rumors of trouble all along the pilgrimage route and involving all three of the Frankish armies that he had welcomed into his kingdom. Perhaps this is why Coloman held Gottschalk’s men up a little longer around Moson. Or perhaps Coloman was just beginning to recognize what an economic crisis the pilgrims might represent. In any case, the delays led to restlessness among the pilgrims, who began to plunder wine, grain, and livestock for their own use. One market deal turned particularly sour, and a group of pilgrims—to express their displeasure as vividly as possible—drove a spear through a young Hungarian man’s anus. Word traveled back to the king, and he ordered all the pilgrims slaughtered to a man. It is probably then that Coloman ordered similar attacks against Peter’s armies at Zemun and Folkmar’s at Nitra.

    Battle lines were drawn near a church dedicated to St. Martin about thirty miles southeast of Moson. But neither side was terribly anxious to engage the other. The pilgrims must have recognized that they were outnumbered and outarmed. The Hungarian generals suspected that the pilgrims were willing to fight to the very end—they were far from home and desperate and as soldiers of God believed that death in this alien land would ensure them a welcome into heaven.
    The Hungarians therefore proposed a truce. King Coloman, they announced, would restore the pilgrims to favor and freely open his markets to them provided that the pilgrims temporarily surrendered their weapons. “If, indeed, you surrender them to the king with all the money you have, you might soothe his anger and find grace in his eyes. But if you do otherwise, not one of you will stand before his face or go on living, since you have committed such contumacy and calumny in his kingdom.” Gottschalk agreed to this proposition, likely recognizing it as his only hope of survival. He would have been