Fun Fact:
Gather round and hear the tale of the taking of Antioch in the spring of ten-ninety-eight. A fair Norman prince, Bohemond was--although of the generic sort as far as that title goes. During the first crusade, it was, that gathered princes stormed the gate. For many long months the knights and their armed kith had laid siege to their Turkish foes. Another Iliad it was, with the conquerors held long at bay. No Trojan horse did breach the wall, but an armorer willing to betray.
Fayruz succumbed to promises of gold made by Bohemond the bold. The host of Christendom feigned a retreat from impregnable Antioch. It was but a ploy to terminate the lengthy deadlock.
Bohemond and his chosen returned to clandestine ropes lowered by Fayruz in the dark of night. The revenants climbed into the tower, keen to engage in the fight. They threw open the gates and broke the lock, inviting their host into Antioch.
They took the city and put a portion to the slaughter, slaying many, sparing neither son nor daughter. Yet the elation was short lived as a new enemy approached. The besiegers became the besieged, surrounded by a numerous host.
With city stores exhausted from their own successful strangle, the princes scrounged for food and sustenance in every corner and angle. Amid this desperation, pilgrim Peter had a vision of a holy lance. Deep in a hole within the church he found the relic that would provide a fighting chance.
Driven to desperation and instilled with religious ardor, the soldiers sallied forth with ambition to conquer. The Frankish army charged the stunned enemy, who divided by their factions to escape and to flee.
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If you gathered from the above that I'm reading Dan Jones' Crusaders, you would be right. The poetic mayhem--for how else can the inconsistent meter and roving rhyme be described?--is entirely of my own manufacture.
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