Conquest now, rather than crusade, the captains and nobles march out to subdue and colonise as much of Northern Syria as they can. Terrible slaughters at Albara and Marrat, the populations massacred, survivors sold in to slavery.
Towns garrisoned to control the region but then a fiercesome winter, food runs short, garrisons starve, cannibalism is recorded as the Soldiers of God reach a new low and still the golden city of Jerusalem, the wellspring of their faith, lies waiting, away down the southern road.

Anchored,
war dogs chained,
moved so far

then not at all,

at Albara and Marrat
we brought
red slaughter and slavery,

before the hunkerdown
of garrison.

In our hellscape
of that northern winter
truths told, never forgotten,
sights seen, better forgotten,

when the food ran out
Marrat began
to eat its dead.

The holy ones told us
we would know
life eternal in the gaze of God,

neglecting to mention
hell is also forever

and Jerusalem a dream,
slowly fading in the gloom.

Gods Will, Gods Will, Gods Will.