The superb man delivered this speech, and by the power of the blessed
Peter absolved everyone who vowed to go, confirming this with an
apostolic benediction, and establishing a sign of this honorable
promise. He ordered that something like a soldier's belt, or rather
that for those about to fight for the Lord, something bearing the
sign of the Lord's passion, the figure of a Cross, be sewn onto the
tunics and cloaks of those who were going. If anyone, after
accepting this symbol, and after having made the public promise, then
went back on his good intentions, either out of weak regretfulness,
or out of domestic affection, such a person, according to the Pope's
decree, would be considered everywhere an outlaw, unless he came to
his senses and fulfilled the obligation which he had foully laid
aside. He also cursed with a horrible anathema all those who might
dare to harm the wives, sons, and possessions of those who took up
God's journey for all of the next three years.

Finally, he entrusted the leadership of the expedition to the most
praiseworthy of men, the bishop of the city of Puy (whose name, I
regret, I have never discovered or heard). He granted him the power
to teach the Christian people as his representative, wherever they
went, and therefore, in the manner of the apostles, he laid hands
upon him and gave him his blessing as well. How wisely he carried
out his commission the results of this wonderful effort demonstrate.

And so, when the council held at Clermont at the octave of blessed
Martin in the month of November was over, the great news spread
through all parts of France, and whoever heard the news of the
Pontiff's decree urged his neighbors and family to undertake the
proposed "path of God" (for this was it epithet). The courtly