The Arrival of a New Papal Legate

In September 1099, as the Count of Flanders and Duke of Normandy departed Jerusalem for the north, Raymond of Saint-Gilles, a key leader of the First Crusade, arrived at the Syrian port city of Jabala. There, he received startling news: a Pisan fleet had docked at Latakia, just 20 kilometers north. Aboard was Daimbert, the newly appointed papal legate—a successor to Adhemar of Le Puy, the spiritual leader of the Crusade who had perished during the grueling siege of Antioch.

Daimbert, the Archbishop of Pisa, was no stranger to conflict with Muslim forces. His prior experience as a papal representative in Castile, where he had battled the Moors, made him an ideal candidate for the volatile Holy Land. His arrival via Pisan ships underscored the growing influence of Italian maritime republics in the Crusader East.

The Political Chessboard of the Levant

Raymond of Saint-Gilles, who had closely aligned himself with Adhemar, saw an opportunity in Daimbert’s arrival. Eager to cultivate influence over Godfrey of Bouillon, the newly appointed “Defender of the Holy Sepulchre,” Raymond sought Daimbert’s friendship. Meanwhile, Daimbert had ambitions of his own—he coveted the position of Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, currently held by Arnulf of Chocques, a less experienced cleric.

Daimbert’s background as a Pisan was significant. The Italian maritime republics—Pisa, Genoa, Venice, and Amalfi—were commercial powerhouses, adept at navigating both trade and warfare in the Mediterranean. Their sailors introduced Arabic numerals to Europe and maintained complex relationships with Muslim traders and pirates alike. Daimbert, a product of this shrewd, cosmopolitan world, stood in stark contrast to the more provincial clergy accompanying the Crusader lords.

The Road to Jerusalem: A Perilous Pilgrimage

Daimbert’s journey south was fraught with danger. Though Jerusalem had fallen to the Crusaders in July 1099, the roads remained unsafe. Bohemond of Taranto, the charismatic Prince of Antioch, and Baldwin of Boulogne, Count of Edessa, offered to escort the papal legate. Both men had missed the siege of Jerusalem and were eager to fulfill their pilgrimage vows.

Their caravan swelled with pilgrims—some 25,000 people, according to chroniclers—many of them women and non-combatants drawn by news of Jerusalem’s liberation. The journey exposed the fragility of Crusader control: at Tortosa, Muslim inhabitants sold food to the pilgrims before ambushing them, leaving many dead. Farther south, in Tripoli, food shortages forced the desperate travelers to subsist on sugarcane, a local export that would later transform European diets.

Christmas in Bethlehem, Power in Jerusalem

The pilgrims reached Jerusalem on December 21, just in time for Christmas. Godfrey, relieved by the reinforcements, offered land to settlers willing to defend the underpopulated city. Bohemond and Baldwin, recognizing Jerusalem’s vulnerability, agreed to leave some of their troops behind.

Meanwhile, the young Norman knight Tancred—Bohemond’s nephew—was carving out his own domain in Galilee. With just 24 knights, he secured key towns like Tiberias, strategically shielding Jerusalem from Damascus. His pragmatic tolerance of local Christians (even non-Catholic sects) contrasted with the Latin Church’s hardline stance, earning him crucial local support.

The Coronation of Ambition

Daimbert, now asserting his authority, orchestrated the removal of Arnulf as Patriarch. Invoking Jerusalem’s ancient title of “Patriarchate,” he claimed the position for himself. On Christmas Day, he presided over a symbolic coronation: Bohemond was confirmed as Prince of Antioch, Godfrey as Defender of the Holy Sepulchre, and Tancred as Prince of Galilee. Baldwin of Edessa, conspicuously absent from the ceremony, may have been sidelined due to his controversial marriage to an Armenian noblewoman.

The Legacy of 1099: A Fragile Foundation

The events of late 1099 set the template for Crusader rule. Daimbert’s political maneuvering, Bohemond’s pragmatism, and Tancred’s military genius exemplified the Crusaders’ adaptability—and their internal rivalries. Yet their successes were precarious. Muslim disunity had allowed the Crusaders to exploit divisions, but this advantage would not last.

By 1100, the Crusader states were taking shape, but the death of key leaders (including Godfrey later that year) would test their resilience. The stage was set for decades of conflict—and for the rise of a unifying Muslim foe: Saladin.

The Modern Echoes of Medieval Strategy

Today, the Crusader castles of Galilee still stand, monuments to a fleeting Christian empire in the Levant. The interplay of faith, power, and pragmatism that defined 1099 remains relevant, reminding us how quickly conquest can give way to consolidation—and how fragile even the most triumphant victories can be.