place where there was little traffic. By tapping the wall, however,
impelled by urgent need, they found it; immediately they ran up to it,
and opened it by breaking the hinges and locks, making an entry for
the Franks, who rushed in.

You would have heard the whole city shaken with terrible roar. While
some rejoiced in the completion of such a task, others wept at the
unlooked-for destruction of their prospects. Neither the victors nor
the vanquished showed any moderation or self-control. Bohemund
ordered his standard, easily recognized by the Turks, to be placed on
top of a certain mountain, in full view of the citadel, which was
still resisting, to make the city aware of his presence. Wailing and
shrieking filled the city; while throngs pressed through the narrow
streets, the brutal, bloody shouts of the victors, eager to kill,
resounded. As they recalled the sufferings they had endured during
the siege, they thought that the blows that they were giving could
not match the starvations, more bitter than death, that they had
suffered. The same punishment inflicted upon the hordes of pagans
was justly meted out to the treacherous Armenians and Syrians, who,
with the aid of the Turks, had eagerly and diligently pursued the
destruction of our men, and our men were, in turn, unwilling to spare
them painful punishment. And yet I say that they would have spared
many of them, had they known how to make a distinction between the
natives pagans and those of our own faith. In the confusion of the
moment and of the action (it was night, and eagerness to capture the
town and impatience with delay incited everyone), perhaps nothing
permitted distinguishing foreigners by their clothing or beards. A
terrible neglect covered the thinness of the weary cheeks of our men,
who, continually prepared for battle, worn out by continual traveling,
had stopped shaving their beards in the Franks' manner. The bishop