These were the first martyrs God made in the nearly desperate state
of our modern times.

Meanwhile Peter, about whom we spoke earlier, often troubled by the
folly of his retinue, disturbed by frequent losses, finally gave the
reins of leadership over to well-born man, a powerful warrior from
beyond the Seine, whose name was Walter,[108] in the hope that those
whom he had been unable to control by warnings might at least be
restrained by military authority. Walter hurried, together with his
insane army, to reach Civitot,[109] a city that is said to be located
above Nicaea.[110] When the Turks, who were keeping track of our
movements, found out, they hurried to Civitot, eager to act out their
great ill will. Half-way there, they met up with the above-mentioned
Walter and his group, and they killed him and a great many of his men.
Peter, called the Hermit, unable to restrain the insanity of the
men he had gathered together, was afraid of being caught up in their
undisciplined, improvident folly, and wisely retreated to
Constantinople. The Turks attacked them without warning, and,
finding some of them asleep, and others not only without weapons, but
unclothed as well, immediately killed them all. Among them they
found a certain priest performing mass, and they killed him in the
very act of completing the sacrament; while he was sacrificing to God,
they sacrificed him at the same altar.

What better host can be offered to God than the flesh of him who
becomes a victim for his God. What prayer did he utter from the
depths of his heart when the trumpets of battle sounded? The victors
tore them to pieces, the clangor of arms resounded, and the wretched
band of fugitives howled. The fine priest embraced the altar,