Cannibal Crusaders

In September 1099 a letter addressed to Pope Paschal II sent from Latakia, in present-day Syria, recounted a number of important events taking place during the First Crusade. As well as Latin Christian victories, it described moments of suffering and struggle – and two occasions in which crusaders had turned cannibal.

The first incident took place at Antioch. The Christian army was so weakened, having besieged the city for a number of months, that the letter – attributed to Archbishop Daimbert of Pisa, and two of the First Crusade’s leaders, Raymond of Saint-Gilles and Godfrey of Bouillon – recorded how the Christians ‘could scarcely refrain from eating human flesh’. The second occurred following the sieges of al-Bāra and Ma‘arrat al-Nu‘mān, during which time famine hit the army and ‘the Christian people’ were so desperate that they ‘ate the putrid bodies’ of Muslims. The accusation was shocking: according to the letter – one of the earliest Latin Christian sources for the First Crusade – at times of starvation, God’s chosen people were capable of cannibalism.

This letter is not an outlier. Numerous histories, many of them written by monks and clerics in the campaign’s aftermath, referenced this extreme act. Details vary: some stated that cannibalism occurred twice, others that it took place at either Antioch or Ma‘arrat al-Nu‘mān. Accounts also disagreed on how widespread it was. Some, such as the Latakia letter, referred vaguely to ‘the army’; others represented it as a fringe event, taking place away from the main camp by outsiders or a handful of poor crusaders. Regardless, it was widely accepted that cannibalism took place during the First Crusade, and that it was committed by the crusaders.

The unprecedented successes of the First Crusade, including the conquest of the Holy City of Jerusalem, led to an outpouring of writing seeking to understand the events and record them for posterity. A military campaign aimed at ‘reclaiming’ Jerusalem, the Crusade was also considered an ‘armed pilgrimage’. The expedition was framed as divinely willed; the crusaders as God’s chosen people and the rightful heirs to the Holy Land. God’s hand is present throughout these texts, and the crusaders are represented as heroes. We might therefore ask why so many authors included references to crusaders eating human flesh in their otherwise positive records of the campaign, and if this behaviour was considered beyond redemption.

Fulcher of Chartres, a cleric and participant in the First Crusade, reflected in his history of the campaign the horror felt by many contemporaries. He ‘shuddered’ to recount what had happened, writing that the Latins were ‘terribly tormented’, and ‘savagely devoured’ the flesh of their dead enemy. He concluded that ‘the besiegers were harmed more than the besieged’. His disgust is evident, but even in the most horrific stories about the crusades, sin could always be followed by repentance – and salvation.

In historical accounts of the First Crusade, written in the aftermath of the expedition, biblical narratives were important sources of inspiration. The Bible contains numerous references to cannibalism, some rhetorical, others realistic. The Eucharist is perhaps the best known example of what might be considered rhetorical cannibalism. Though the doctrine of transubstantiation was not yet formalised, 12th-century commentators understood that consuming bread and wine, which transformed into the body and blood of Christ, was required for salvation. Matthew 26:27-28 explicitly associates the shedding and drinking of Jesus’ blood with the remission of sins. But that, of course, is a far cry from eating the bodies of actual people, including Muslims, while on crusade.

The Old Testament includes various accounts of what might be considered ‘realistic’ examples of cannibalism. Context varies, but across numerous books cannibalism is presented as an extreme punishment inflicted by God. Deuteronomy 28, for example, discusses punishments for those who do not observe God’s commandments, including Verse 53: ‘And you shall eat the fruit of your womb, and the flesh of your sons and of your daughters, which the Lord your God shall give to you, in the distress and extremity by which your enemy shall oppress you.’ Across the Bible, discussions of cannibalism and other punishments are often followed by teachings on repentance, forgiveness, and redemption, as found throughout Deuteronomy 30, in which those who repent are promised prosperity, for example: ‘And the Lord your God will make you abound in the fruit of your womb, and in the fruit of your cattle, in the fruitfulness of your land, and in plenty of all things.’ The message was that transgressors would be punished, but if they sought forgiveness they would be redeemed, thus remaining God’s chosen people.

Medieval accounts of the First Crusade similarly followed a sin-to-redemption arc, and even crusader cannibals were not beyond salvation. Some accounts made this link directly. Indeed, following the cannibalism at Antioch, the Latakia letter reflected that, ‘God looked down upon His people who He had so long chastised and mercifully consoled them’. Other sources were less explicit, building the redemption arc into a broader narrative. The second-hand account of Robert the Monk, for example, recorded how following a long period of delay, in-fighting, and cannibalism, the crusaders were rewarded as they resumed their journey towards Jerusalem through a ‘land of milk and honey’.

As an ‘armed pilgrimage’, suffering and redemption during the First Crusade were to be expected, but engaging in cannibalism was still shocking and extreme. The Bible, however, offered a means of presenting cannibalism in a way that was not irredeemable – as long as those responsible repented. Instead, it was a form of punishment inflicted by God as part of a divinely willed endeavour through which salvation – and Jerusalem – could be won.

Katy Mortimer is Lecturer in Medieval Studies at Canterbury Christ Church University.