I Have Psychic Experiences
[big][b]The Crusades[/b][/big] Part I
As a young child of 5 years old, I collected toy knights. Most of these were 54mm plastic Tempos, with a smattering of Britains Ltd knights thrown in. If you had your childhood in the 1960s and early 1970s, you may know what I mean. Most of the Tempo knights depicted soldiers/knights from the early 12th Century. Quite a few of these were Crusaders, all clad in chainmail armor. I just loved this time period and could not get enough. This interest lasted until I was about 13 years old, and then I started to get interested in the American Civil War. Both periods interested me intensely, and both periods have come back to me in visions of past lives.
I was always interested in learning all I could about the Crusades. My father knew a bit from his readings, but his information was sparse at best and did little to entice me to read about the period. All I could get from him was that it was the Crusaders vs the Saracens, whoever the Saracens were? One day someone told me it was really the Christians vs the Muslims, but for some reason, that didn't quite feel right. I felt the Crusaders were not Christian, or at least, not Christian as were perceive Christians today. I don't know why I felt this way, I just did. I was also not keen on the so-called Christian uniform, or at least what I perceived as their uniform, the white surcoat with the red cross. That didn't feel right either. In fact, my feeling of the Crusades did not match much of what I learnt about the Crusades over my early years. As a child, all I could sum it up as was "them" vs "us". I was not sure who was right or why the Crusaders were even "over there" in the first place, but, they were and they fought the Saracens. I had to write a report on the Crusades in grade 6, but just managed to muddled my way through it. Most of the books in our school contained very basic information at best. It just boiled down to Christians vs Muslims. I would have received a better mark had I just stuck to that.
Many years later, I landed a job with a book publisher. They mainly worked on books about the Medieval Period. Most of this work centered on the early medieval period. The material never centered on the Crusades, but it did center on the Normans and their Conquest of England, Sicily, and later the conquests of Italy etc. For some reason, we never worked on books dealing with the Crusades. However, many of the books we did work on depicted knights and equipment that were indirectly related to the Crusades in one way or other. The Normans did influence the outcome in the Holy Land. I remember discussing the Crusades with the publisher and my fellow workers and my boss, which was enlightening, but again, was sparse information. It just wasn't in the scope of our work.
One day, out of the blue, the publisher gave me an assignment. I had to create a mess of graphics for a book that he decided to publish. I was given the usual 5 days to create what other graphic artists, working on similar projects for other publishers, would have been given 6 weeks to create. Quite typical; I was known as the miracle man as a result of these insane deadlines. To meet this deadline, I had to work 18 hours a day, for 5 days straight. I barely made it on time. While my wife went to work, I stayed home working from 7:30am till 3am -- I usually took an hour out for dinner with my wife when she came home. Then it was back to work until 3am. This repeated four more times.
I remember working for about 12 hours and then breaking for dinner when my wife came home. I had dinner ready when she arrived. After dinner, she watched TV and then she went to bed while I worked on through the night. On this particular evening, I was working in front of the TV, painting with watercolors. I had been at it since 7:30am and now it was 10pm. I looked up and saw that an old BBC program was just starting. It was one of my favorite shows as a kid. It dealt with famous cities of the world. I hadn't seen the series for well over 15 years and this one was about Cairo, Egypt. I had never seen this one before. I thought I'd watch it while I worked for the next hour. The show began with the history of Cairo starting with the fact that it is actually a fairly young city having only been founded in the mid-1400s. Then the documentary went in search of the original city, hidden behind its modern facade. I was working on my art, looking up periodically to watch the show. Suddenly, the camera showed the oldest part of Cairo, the windy narrow streets, all in light, dusty khaki brown colored stone with doorways tucked into recesses. Without warning, I was suddenly there, not in Cairo, but somewhere in the Holy Land.
I saw myself as a young Crusader about 19 years old. I had slipped into a past life memory without effort (that is how it usually happens with me; a sudden, unexpected trigger, and then, I have crossed over). I had just arrived in camp and I was making my way to see my uncle. He may have been a relative, or I simply may have been from the same region in Europe as him, and therefore gravitated toward him and his group. Either way, I looked upon him with great respect and admiration. Our camp was busy and congested, and from it, you could see the entire besieged city that lay before us. This commanding knight was a fairly large man in his mid-to-late 30s with full dark, moustache and beard. He was a very well respected knight with a number of men-at-arms under his immediate command. Thinking back now, he reminded me of the British actor, Brian Blessed, just with a smaller mouth, taller and better looking. He had been at this siege for some time now, whereas, I had just arrived in time to partake in its final stage. After a few days rest, my uncle explained the situation. We were besieging a fortified city and had been at it for some time. It was a stubborn nut to crack. The enemy just wouldn't give up. After a previous failed assault on the walls, the Crusaders were placing all their energy and hopes on two wooden assault towers. He pointed to one of these structures. It was wooden, tall, and unsafe looking. It was placed fairly close to the walls of the city. He pointed to the assault tower and stated that that was the tower which he will be in. The tower will be pushed up close to the wall, the drawbridge will then drop, and he, along with many other knights, will storm across and capture the wall. My uncle then explained what he expected of me. I was to remain near the city's gate. He pointed to the gate. It appeared to be a few hundred yards from where the assault tower would strike. I was to lead his men-at-arms through the gate and into the city. I have no idea why I wasn't going in the assault tower, but I did not question him. Once the knights had taken the wall, my uncle explained, we will fight our way through the streets to the gate and then, once reached, will open it. That was when I was suppose lead his men-at-arms into the city. He stated, "Once you are through the gate, I want you to fight your way to that church", as he pointed to a white dome with a golden tip that glistened in the sun off in the distance within the city. (I am not sure if he used the term, "Church", but is how I remember it). The church was on a rise and appeared, from where we stood, to be a high point of the city. We would have to fight up hill to get there once we were in the city. I had a day to mentally prepare for the upcoming battle.
The next day, all was ready. The assault tower rolled ahead. However, as it approached the wall, it stopped. From where we stood, it appeared to have reached the wall, but for some reason it just sat there. It stopped for a while as if it were waiting for something. It took about 10 minutes but finally we saw the drawbridge of the tower drop onto the wall but then, another pause. Nothing happened. Something had gone wrong. We could not tell what was going on in the tower. We waited, and then I head a roar of human voices and a loud crash as I saw a small group of knights lunge out and impact onto the defenders. Despite being a few hundred yards away, you could hear and see it all quite clearly. There was a metallic “bang” sound as the knights impacted into the defenders. The knights were on the wall and fighting was intense although it was also brief. You could, at first, see the enemy trying to repulse the attack, but then, they melted away and all went quiet. The knights had disappeared from our view. It lasted less than 5 minutes. Now I waited for what seemed to be a long time.
[c=#003BB2](I researched this part of the attack and discovered that the assault tower's axle broke 10 feet short of the wall. So despite the tower giving the appearance of being right next to the wall, it was short. The 10 foot gap was too wide for a knight in full armor to jump. The problem was solved when wooden boards, ripped out from the rear of the assault tower, were placed on the end of the drawbridge to extend it to the wall, then the attacking knights ran across. Once across, the enemy stood no chance. Heavily armored, veteran warrior knights vs lightly armed and armoured militia defenders, it was over very quickly. The first enemy soldier encountered on the wall had his head cut cleanly off by an attacking knight — the head was later recovered as a trophy. The rest of the defenders on the wall met a similar fate. Within minutes, all the knights were across and gone from our view).[/c]
While standing by the main gate, I became aware of my attire. I was wearing chainmail armor, with heavy padding underneath. I carried a large shield in my left hand/arm, and I was wearing a helmet that appeared to cover my entire head and face. I researched this later but could not find a helmet that matched this description for the time period, but that was the helmet I seemed to be wearing. It had a full metal front face covering, unless, with helmet, chainmail and nasal protection, it gave me with the impression of having a helmet that covered my entire head and face. However, It felt like a full head covering metal helmet with a slit to see through. I was completely covered in armour, or so it would seem. I couldn't see my feet or legs, but felt I was not wearing metal chain armor below the waist, although I was protected by my chainmail shirt which covered to the knees. My arms also appeared to be have been protected in chainmail. Although well armored, I felt quite encumbered. My chest felt very tight and trying to breath in the helmet and armor was an effort. I had to literally suck the air into my lungs. It was work. The helmet's chin strap also felt too tight. I noticed the oppressive heat and my sweat. I was quite hot under all this equipment, even though it seemed to be a slightly overcast day. I could have just been nervous, but it was quite hot outside. In my right hand I gripped a sword. It was a plain, simple sword. It was nothing like the type Hollywood uses with etched dragons, scroll work, or inlaid with golden religious slogans and angels. This was just a plain steel sword with a blade that was about 30 or so inches long. It felt good in my hand and made me feel secure. It was not too heavy and it felt well balanced. I now looked over the men under my command. There were between 15 or 18 or so, men, clad in leather armour, with axes, spears, swords, Norman style helmets and kite like-style shields. I didn't see any wearing chainmail, but did see metal studs on their jackets -- they may have had metal plates underneath. What struck me were their ages. These were not young men. Most looked like they were in their mid-30s. They had been with my uncle for some time and were loyal to him. What also struck me as odd was that I was in charge of them. I was barely 19 years old, and yet, I was their leader. I had never been in battle before, and I quickly realized that my experience wasn't worth a lot. I was trained in the handling of weapons, but was totally inexperienced. These men-at-arms were veterans and looked the part. I felt awkward and quite out of place. Luckily, they could not see my face from under my helmet. It hid my inexperience. Perhaps they were too old to go in the assault towers and I was deemed to young and inexperienced? Here we waited. And then we waited some more.
After what felt like a very long time, but in actuality, was probably no more than 20 minutes, the city gates finally opened and with a roar, everyone rushed in as a mob. I was not alone nor the first through the gate. There were a number of foot solders with us from various commands. What were we to see and experience? What sort of resistance were we going to meet? How will I behave in combat? All these fears ran through my mind, but quickly, it all came to nothing. Upon entering the city I realized three things immediately. The first was that there was no enemy to fight. Everyone was exclaiming that the city had surrendered. The enemy had laid down their arms. The second thing I noticed, in contrast to the filth of our camp, this place was actually quite clean and orderly on the inside and had stone paved streets. The third thing I noticed were many dead bodies about and the looting that was taking place. Just because the city had surrendered, didn't mean the enemy was being spared. Bodies lay about. There were pools of blood and blood rivulets almost everywhere you looked. Apartment doors had been kicked in, loot was being thrown out onto sheets and blankets. Gold plates, silverware, brass items, chairs, tables, and anything of value was being gathered up. It seemed to be on a first come basis. It was a feeding frenzy. I felt disgusted as I walked through the carnage, up hill, towards the church my uncle pointed out as a gathering point. I looked at my men-at-arms and their facial expressions seemed to match mine. A feeling of disgust. Why were we here exactly? We were sent here to save the Holy Land from the infidel and to be an example of our religion. My family had pledged that one of their sons, myself, would go to the Holy Land and rescue it for Christianity. There was no mention of giving no quarter and looting. I was horrified. Where was the Christian love all the priests talked about back home?
[c=#003BB2](I was surprised to read in a book that when the crusader foot soldiers entered into the city they were told the garrison had surrendered. The book stated many of the attacking crusaders were stunned to hear this. I was stunned to hear this myself. I had expected to be met with a horde of fanatical defenders, but instead, all I saw were corpses. The city was ours).[/c]
A little while later I reported to my uncle in front of the church. He seemed very pleased. I do not know what happened to the men-at-arms under my command, but suspect they were not of the social class to address my uncle unless they were first spoken to. Or perhaps they were off looting themselves. I could talk with my uncle on a one-to-one, although I was very much his junior. I just followed his orders and experience. From where I stood, the church still appeared to be the highest point in the city, and the sun was out again, bathing everything in a bright warm light. It was quite hot again. There were about eight knights gathered around, laughing and drinking wine from brass/gold goblets. They were pleased with themselves and happy with the day. They had just won a great victory and they were celebrating. I saw that my uncle appeared to be the center of attention. Was he an important knight? It appeared so, but I have no idea of his name. I noticed that even though the knights we wearing white surcoats, no one was wearing red crosses as depicted in many Hollywood movies. In fact, I think I only saw one cross, and it was a small, black cross worn over the heart (left side) on one of the knight's surcoat. None of the men-at-arms I had commanded wore crosses on their person. The scene then faded away as I watched the knights laughing and retelling their tales of the day's action. I was the odd man out and just listened to their chatter. I was still in shock.
I then saw was myself, alone, in a coastal castle somewhere. I was brightly lit with the fading sun set across the Mediterranean. This was not the city I had helped to capture. I was part of its garrison. I didn't see myself wearing chainmail armor, but instead was I wearing a tunic of some sort. I didn't see any markings or symbols on it, but it was scarlet red in color and went down to below my knees (had I gone native?). Was it a surcoat? I was sad as I watched the stunning sunset. The whole scene was bathed in a beautiful orange-yellow hue. I was thinking of my mission here, in the Holy Land. To help keep the Holy Land Christian, but after witnessing the slaughter in the city, I had my doubts. I was suppose to uphold Christian values, but was very confused as to what those values were. Everything I had stood for was wrong. I felt as it I had been lied to. I felt ashamed of being a Christian and a Knight of God. Then my mind turned to my family. I'd never see my mother, my sisters, my father or brothers again. I was going to die here. A sacrifice my family had willingly made of me. I felt so terribly alone and homesick, but here I had to stay and potentially die. Then, the vision faded away and I was once again sitting in front of my TV. I looked at the clock and discovered that about 15 minutes had gone by. I felt like I had been on the other side of the world and back in those 15 minutes. I stopped work for the night and went to bed early.
Since that time, I have never had another vision of the Crusades, but I still do have a strong feel for the period. I did have a short dream when I was about 8 years old, being in a castle that matched the castle I was garrisoned in, but it was just a hallway scene. It showed nothing else, other than myself walking down a hallway, passing a few open windows. I sense I have more memories, just below the surface, but cannot recall them. I have had a number of psychics since then tell me that I was in the Crusades and that it was an important life. I can concur. If felt important. It certainly was an interesting lifetime, but it was also a very sad one too. I hope to go back "there", to the Holy Land at some point... but where exactly is "there"?
Where was I in the Crusades and when? I looked through the books I had in my library, but most just covered the Crusades generally, without getting into a lot of detail. I decided about a month ago that I would scour the Internet for information. I knew a few facts:
1) The equipment was fairly early Crusades. That placed it, probably, in the First Crusade, but this was no guarantee since people will reuse old equipment if that is all that is available. However, everyone was using the older styles, not just a few knights and footmen, which could mean that it probably was the First Crusade.
2) The siege of the city was unique. Nowhere in my vision was anyone concerned about an inner citadel. It was just a fortified city -- there may have been a citadel, but it appears to be minor, if one existed. Once surrendered, it appeared that the whole city was ours. There may have been a few hold outs, but these were minor and of little concern to us.
3) We attacked the city with the aid of two wooden siege towers, which was unique, as most attacks I read about were conducted using scaling ladders, not siege towers. That proved to be the key.
As a young child of 5 years old, I collected toy knights. Most of these were 54mm plastic Tempos, with a smattering of Britains Ltd knights thrown in. If you had your childhood in the 1960s and early 1970s, you may know what I mean. Most of the Tempo knights depicted soldiers/knights from the early 12th Century. Quite a few of these were Crusaders, all clad in chainmail armor. I just loved this time period and could not get enough. This interest lasted until I was about 13 years old, and then I started to get interested in the American Civil War. Both periods interested me intensely, and both periods have come back to me in visions of past lives.
I was always interested in learning all I could about the Crusades. My father knew a bit from his readings, but his information was sparse at best and did little to entice me to read about the period. All I could get from him was that it was the Crusaders vs the Saracens, whoever the Saracens were? One day someone told me it was really the Christians vs the Muslims, but for some reason, that didn't quite feel right. I felt the Crusaders were not Christian, or at least, not Christian as were perceive Christians today. I don't know why I felt this way, I just did. I was also not keen on the so-called Christian uniform, or at least what I perceived as their uniform, the white surcoat with the red cross. That didn't feel right either. In fact, my feeling of the Crusades did not match much of what I learnt about the Crusades over my early years. As a child, all I could sum it up as was "them" vs "us". I was not sure who was right or why the Crusaders were even "over there" in the first place, but, they were and they fought the Saracens. I had to write a report on the Crusades in grade 6, but just managed to muddled my way through it. Most of the books in our school contained very basic information at best. It just boiled down to Christians vs Muslims. I would have received a better mark had I just stuck to that.
Many years later, I landed a job with a book publisher. They mainly worked on books about the Medieval Period. Most of this work centered on the early medieval period. The material never centered on the Crusades, but it did center on the Normans and their Conquest of England, Sicily, and later the conquests of Italy etc. For some reason, we never worked on books dealing with the Crusades. However, many of the books we did work on depicted knights and equipment that were indirectly related to the Crusades in one way or other. The Normans did influence the outcome in the Holy Land. I remember discussing the Crusades with the publisher and my fellow workers and my boss, which was enlightening, but again, was sparse information. It just wasn't in the scope of our work.
One day, out of the blue, the publisher gave me an assignment. I had to create a mess of graphics for a book that he decided to publish. I was given the usual 5 days to create what other graphic artists, working on similar projects for other publishers, would have been given 6 weeks to create. Quite typical; I was known as the miracle man as a result of these insane deadlines. To meet this deadline, I had to work 18 hours a day, for 5 days straight. I barely made it on time. While my wife went to work, I stayed home working from 7:30am till 3am -- I usually took an hour out for dinner with my wife when she came home. Then it was back to work until 3am. This repeated four more times.
I remember working for about 12 hours and then breaking for dinner when my wife came home. I had dinner ready when she arrived. After dinner, she watched TV and then she went to bed while I worked on through the night. On this particular evening, I was working in front of the TV, painting with watercolors. I had been at it since 7:30am and now it was 10pm. I looked up and saw that an old BBC program was just starting. It was one of my favorite shows as a kid. It dealt with famous cities of the world. I hadn't seen the series for well over 15 years and this one was about Cairo, Egypt. I had never seen this one before. I thought I'd watch it while I worked for the next hour. The show began with the history of Cairo starting with the fact that it is actually a fairly young city having only been founded in the mid-1400s. Then the documentary went in search of the original city, hidden behind its modern facade. I was working on my art, looking up periodically to watch the show. Suddenly, the camera showed the oldest part of Cairo, the windy narrow streets, all in light, dusty khaki brown colored stone with doorways tucked into recesses. Without warning, I was suddenly there, not in Cairo, but somewhere in the Holy Land.
I saw myself as a young Crusader about 19 years old. I had slipped into a past life memory without effort (that is how it usually happens with me; a sudden, unexpected trigger, and then, I have crossed over). I had just arrived in camp and I was making my way to see my uncle. He may have been a relative, or I simply may have been from the same region in Europe as him, and therefore gravitated toward him and his group. Either way, I looked upon him with great respect and admiration. Our camp was busy and congested, and from it, you could see the entire besieged city that lay before us. This commanding knight was a fairly large man in his mid-to-late 30s with full dark, moustache and beard. He was a very well respected knight with a number of men-at-arms under his immediate command. Thinking back now, he reminded me of the British actor, Brian Blessed, just with a smaller mouth, taller and better looking. He had been at this siege for some time now, whereas, I had just arrived in time to partake in its final stage. After a few days rest, my uncle explained the situation. We were besieging a fortified city and had been at it for some time. It was a stubborn nut to crack. The enemy just wouldn't give up. After a previous failed assault on the walls, the Crusaders were placing all their energy and hopes on two wooden assault towers. He pointed to one of these structures. It was wooden, tall, and unsafe looking. It was placed fairly close to the walls of the city. He pointed to the assault tower and stated that that was the tower which he will be in. The tower will be pushed up close to the wall, the drawbridge will then drop, and he, along with many other knights, will storm across and capture the wall. My uncle then explained what he expected of me. I was to remain near the city's gate. He pointed to the gate. It appeared to be a few hundred yards from where the assault tower would strike. I was to lead his men-at-arms through the gate and into the city. I have no idea why I wasn't going in the assault tower, but I did not question him. Once the knights had taken the wall, my uncle explained, we will fight our way through the streets to the gate and then, once reached, will open it. That was when I was suppose lead his men-at-arms into the city. He stated, "Once you are through the gate, I want you to fight your way to that church", as he pointed to a white dome with a golden tip that glistened in the sun off in the distance within the city. (I am not sure if he used the term, "Church", but is how I remember it). The church was on a rise and appeared, from where we stood, to be a high point of the city. We would have to fight up hill to get there once we were in the city. I had a day to mentally prepare for the upcoming battle.
The next day, all was ready. The assault tower rolled ahead. However, as it approached the wall, it stopped. From where we stood, it appeared to have reached the wall, but for some reason it just sat there. It stopped for a while as if it were waiting for something. It took about 10 minutes but finally we saw the drawbridge of the tower drop onto the wall but then, another pause. Nothing happened. Something had gone wrong. We could not tell what was going on in the tower. We waited, and then I head a roar of human voices and a loud crash as I saw a small group of knights lunge out and impact onto the defenders. Despite being a few hundred yards away, you could hear and see it all quite clearly. There was a metallic “bang” sound as the knights impacted into the defenders. The knights were on the wall and fighting was intense although it was also brief. You could, at first, see the enemy trying to repulse the attack, but then, they melted away and all went quiet. The knights had disappeared from our view. It lasted less than 5 minutes. Now I waited for what seemed to be a long time.
[c=#003BB2](I researched this part of the attack and discovered that the assault tower's axle broke 10 feet short of the wall. So despite the tower giving the appearance of being right next to the wall, it was short. The 10 foot gap was too wide for a knight in full armor to jump. The problem was solved when wooden boards, ripped out from the rear of the assault tower, were placed on the end of the drawbridge to extend it to the wall, then the attacking knights ran across. Once across, the enemy stood no chance. Heavily armored, veteran warrior knights vs lightly armed and armoured militia defenders, it was over very quickly. The first enemy soldier encountered on the wall had his head cut cleanly off by an attacking knight — the head was later recovered as a trophy. The rest of the defenders on the wall met a similar fate. Within minutes, all the knights were across and gone from our view).[/c]
While standing by the main gate, I became aware of my attire. I was wearing chainmail armor, with heavy padding underneath. I carried a large shield in my left hand/arm, and I was wearing a helmet that appeared to cover my entire head and face. I researched this later but could not find a helmet that matched this description for the time period, but that was the helmet I seemed to be wearing. It had a full metal front face covering, unless, with helmet, chainmail and nasal protection, it gave me with the impression of having a helmet that covered my entire head and face. However, It felt like a full head covering metal helmet with a slit to see through. I was completely covered in armour, or so it would seem. I couldn't see my feet or legs, but felt I was not wearing metal chain armor below the waist, although I was protected by my chainmail shirt which covered to the knees. My arms also appeared to be have been protected in chainmail. Although well armored, I felt quite encumbered. My chest felt very tight and trying to breath in the helmet and armor was an effort. I had to literally suck the air into my lungs. It was work. The helmet's chin strap also felt too tight. I noticed the oppressive heat and my sweat. I was quite hot under all this equipment, even though it seemed to be a slightly overcast day. I could have just been nervous, but it was quite hot outside. In my right hand I gripped a sword. It was a plain, simple sword. It was nothing like the type Hollywood uses with etched dragons, scroll work, or inlaid with golden religious slogans and angels. This was just a plain steel sword with a blade that was about 30 or so inches long. It felt good in my hand and made me feel secure. It was not too heavy and it felt well balanced. I now looked over the men under my command. There were between 15 or 18 or so, men, clad in leather armour, with axes, spears, swords, Norman style helmets and kite like-style shields. I didn't see any wearing chainmail, but did see metal studs on their jackets -- they may have had metal plates underneath. What struck me were their ages. These were not young men. Most looked like they were in their mid-30s. They had been with my uncle for some time and were loyal to him. What also struck me as odd was that I was in charge of them. I was barely 19 years old, and yet, I was their leader. I had never been in battle before, and I quickly realized that my experience wasn't worth a lot. I was trained in the handling of weapons, but was totally inexperienced. These men-at-arms were veterans and looked the part. I felt awkward and quite out of place. Luckily, they could not see my face from under my helmet. It hid my inexperience. Perhaps they were too old to go in the assault towers and I was deemed to young and inexperienced? Here we waited. And then we waited some more.
After what felt like a very long time, but in actuality, was probably no more than 20 minutes, the city gates finally opened and with a roar, everyone rushed in as a mob. I was not alone nor the first through the gate. There were a number of foot solders with us from various commands. What were we to see and experience? What sort of resistance were we going to meet? How will I behave in combat? All these fears ran through my mind, but quickly, it all came to nothing. Upon entering the city I realized three things immediately. The first was that there was no enemy to fight. Everyone was exclaiming that the city had surrendered. The enemy had laid down their arms. The second thing I noticed, in contrast to the filth of our camp, this place was actually quite clean and orderly on the inside and had stone paved streets. The third thing I noticed were many dead bodies about and the looting that was taking place. Just because the city had surrendered, didn't mean the enemy was being spared. Bodies lay about. There were pools of blood and blood rivulets almost everywhere you looked. Apartment doors had been kicked in, loot was being thrown out onto sheets and blankets. Gold plates, silverware, brass items, chairs, tables, and anything of value was being gathered up. It seemed to be on a first come basis. It was a feeding frenzy. I felt disgusted as I walked through the carnage, up hill, towards the church my uncle pointed out as a gathering point. I looked at my men-at-arms and their facial expressions seemed to match mine. A feeling of disgust. Why were we here exactly? We were sent here to save the Holy Land from the infidel and to be an example of our religion. My family had pledged that one of their sons, myself, would go to the Holy Land and rescue it for Christianity. There was no mention of giving no quarter and looting. I was horrified. Where was the Christian love all the priests talked about back home?
[c=#003BB2](I was surprised to read in a book that when the crusader foot soldiers entered into the city they were told the garrison had surrendered. The book stated many of the attacking crusaders were stunned to hear this. I was stunned to hear this myself. I had expected to be met with a horde of fanatical defenders, but instead, all I saw were corpses. The city was ours).[/c]
A little while later I reported to my uncle in front of the church. He seemed very pleased. I do not know what happened to the men-at-arms under my command, but suspect they were not of the social class to address my uncle unless they were first spoken to. Or perhaps they were off looting themselves. I could talk with my uncle on a one-to-one, although I was very much his junior. I just followed his orders and experience. From where I stood, the church still appeared to be the highest point in the city, and the sun was out again, bathing everything in a bright warm light. It was quite hot again. There were about eight knights gathered around, laughing and drinking wine from brass/gold goblets. They were pleased with themselves and happy with the day. They had just won a great victory and they were celebrating. I saw that my uncle appeared to be the center of attention. Was he an important knight? It appeared so, but I have no idea of his name. I noticed that even though the knights we wearing white surcoats, no one was wearing red crosses as depicted in many Hollywood movies. In fact, I think I only saw one cross, and it was a small, black cross worn over the heart (left side) on one of the knight's surcoat. None of the men-at-arms I had commanded wore crosses on their person. The scene then faded away as I watched the knights laughing and retelling their tales of the day's action. I was the odd man out and just listened to their chatter. I was still in shock.
I then saw was myself, alone, in a coastal castle somewhere. I was brightly lit with the fading sun set across the Mediterranean. This was not the city I had helped to capture. I was part of its garrison. I didn't see myself wearing chainmail armor, but instead was I wearing a tunic of some sort. I didn't see any markings or symbols on it, but it was scarlet red in color and went down to below my knees (had I gone native?). Was it a surcoat? I was sad as I watched the stunning sunset. The whole scene was bathed in a beautiful orange-yellow hue. I was thinking of my mission here, in the Holy Land. To help keep the Holy Land Christian, but after witnessing the slaughter in the city, I had my doubts. I was suppose to uphold Christian values, but was very confused as to what those values were. Everything I had stood for was wrong. I felt as it I had been lied to. I felt ashamed of being a Christian and a Knight of God. Then my mind turned to my family. I'd never see my mother, my sisters, my father or brothers again. I was going to die here. A sacrifice my family had willingly made of me. I felt so terribly alone and homesick, but here I had to stay and potentially die. Then, the vision faded away and I was once again sitting in front of my TV. I looked at the clock and discovered that about 15 minutes had gone by. I felt like I had been on the other side of the world and back in those 15 minutes. I stopped work for the night and went to bed early.
Since that time, I have never had another vision of the Crusades, but I still do have a strong feel for the period. I did have a short dream when I was about 8 years old, being in a castle that matched the castle I was garrisoned in, but it was just a hallway scene. It showed nothing else, other than myself walking down a hallway, passing a few open windows. I sense I have more memories, just below the surface, but cannot recall them. I have had a number of psychics since then tell me that I was in the Crusades and that it was an important life. I can concur. If felt important. It certainly was an interesting lifetime, but it was also a very sad one too. I hope to go back "there", to the Holy Land at some point... but where exactly is "there"?
Where was I in the Crusades and when? I looked through the books I had in my library, but most just covered the Crusades generally, without getting into a lot of detail. I decided about a month ago that I would scour the Internet for information. I knew a few facts:
1) The equipment was fairly early Crusades. That placed it, probably, in the First Crusade, but this was no guarantee since people will reuse old equipment if that is all that is available. However, everyone was using the older styles, not just a few knights and footmen, which could mean that it probably was the First Crusade.
2) The siege of the city was unique. Nowhere in my vision was anyone concerned about an inner citadel. It was just a fortified city -- there may have been a citadel, but it appears to be minor, if one existed. Once surrendered, it appeared that the whole city was ours. There may have been a few hold outs, but these were minor and of little concern to us.
3) We attacked the city with the aid of two wooden siege towers, which was unique, as most attacks I read about were conducted using scaling ladders, not siege towers. That proved to be the key.
