Miracle of the Holy Lance

During the First Crusade, a rag-tag army of Christians set out from Europe with a fiery goal of taking back “Holy Lands” that had been claimed by the Turks. There were fully-equipped knights, with red and blue banners flying behind them, their armor glinting in the sun… and many nobles, too, would light out on this quest. These were the fortunate ones who could afford to take with them clothing, food, and supplies for shelter. They were joined by poor farmers, peasants, adventurers, and even criminals; all believed they were on a divine mission, under God’s protection, and it was their purpose to help the Byzantines drive back the ruthless and godless Turks.
It would not take long for such zeal to give way to the reality of the sun; it was relentless, blazing hot, and unforgiving. It took these people several months to march through hostile territories, through burning, scorched countryside, toward a distant Holy Land. And at every step the Crusaders would find themselves beset by ambushes and skirmishes.
These were the young and old who were walking barefoot through extremely hostile terrain… they were beset by hunger, thirst, and the constant heat of an alien landscape. Indeed, many hundreds would die of exhaustion and sunstroke. So much so that the people kept moving and often discarded the dead by a dusty roadside. They were in constant fear of being overtaken by marauders (as had happened with the massacre of “Peter the Hermit’s” own army).
In 1097 AD they were nevertheless a formidable, massive horde as they approached the city of Antioch, the crown-jewel of the Byzantine Empire. Here was a city with a vast amount of wealth, and one that was equally as impregnable with outer walls stretching almost 10 miles, a series of nearly 200 towers, and a massive main tower that stretched 500 feet into the sky. A tired and desperate army settled in for an eight-month seige… one that almost destroyed them. They were starving within weeks, and facing a winter that seemed on the verge of drowning them in torrential rains. The encampments were quagmires, and many hundreds were dying from fever.
One of the peasant Crusaders, a man named Peter Bartholomew, began to have dreams and visions (hmm…) and revealed to the leaders that the actual lance which had pierced Christ’s side during his crucifixion was inside the walls of Antioch. And as word spread, it seemed it was not only Peter who was having these strange visions. It was enough for the leaders to attack the walls, breach them, and pour into the city of Antioch. Heavy fighting ensued, but the Crusading army was overwhelming in their sheer numbers, and many made their way quickly to the Church where Peter had seen his visions. After digging through the damp earth… a piece of rusted iron was discovered. And, miraculously, a spear lay nearby. The “Holy Lance” had been found, it seemed, and it was a divine confirmation of the Crusader’s quest. The capture of Antioch, and the miracle of finding this Holy Lance, were events that shifted the momentum of the Crusade. The rag-tag army was now rejuvenated, regrouped, and they would no longer suffer the ravages of heat, thirst, hunger or fever. They would instead hold the spear before them, as a very real and divine object, as they moved toward a fateful collision with Jerusalem.

"All In The Family"

To me, the Persians are one of the most interesting Empires from ancient times (yeah, Egypt was boring).
You have the charismatic leader, Cyrus, who waged war against the Lydians, Babylonians, and Elamites. You’ve got a virtual “superpower” that was able to not only conquer enemies, but also incorporate them into their Empire. The Persians also took after our beloved Greeks – you’ve got the Battle of Marathon, the Battle of Artesium, and the legendary Battle of Thermopylae (where 300 Spartans (joined by nearly 700 Thespians) would battle, and die, to the last man in unsuccessfully defending a major pass into Greece). And when Cyrus died, you’ve got his sons, rumored to have plotted the murdering of each other; and a usurper to his throne, also a murderer, to make things even more dramatic and interesting.
Cyrus, King of Persia, died in 529 BC.
He had envisioned that his two sons would “share” his Empire – Cambyses, his eldest, was to take the throne. Bardiya, the second son, would have a place over a Persian army which ruled a vast amount of territory. To make sure the family was secure, Cyrus also arranged for the brothers to “marry” their own sisters (yikes).
Cambyses would rule for only seven years; he was “wounded” by an arrow in the leg, while travelling from Egypt (newly conquered) back to his throne. He died from gangrene. The incident, however, was far from accidental – it is believed that Darius (more on him in a second) was the king’s slayer.
Bardiya took the throne immediately in 522 BC. But he would not last long. The new Persian king found himself ambushed while travelling a royal highway. Cambyses had been murdered in March; now Bardiya was murdered in September. The first king had died from an arrow in his leg, the second king was stabbed to death in an open field
What makes this interesting (yes!) is the fact that Darius, one of the top advisors to both men, was close when both incidents happened. Even more, Darius spun a fabulous tale and was able to usurp the throne and take Persia for himself.
Darius claimed that Cambyses had been responsible for Cyrus’ own death. The son had killed the father, in wanton bloodshed, and had taken the throne. (Actually, Cyrus died in battle, and his head was taken by his enemies) Further, Darius claimed that Bardiya had propped up Cambyses to do this, and it was Bardiya who had killed his brother to cover any conspiracy. Confusing, yes? Well… Darius’ tale spun almost out of control when he claimed that Bardiya had been murdered by Cambyses’ men, in revenge, and that an imposter had taken his place. This man was a dead-ringer (sorry) for Bardiya, and not even his “wife-sister” knew the truth. Of course… only Darius was aware of the full truth. And he would use his “truth” to keep himself “King” for nearly 65 years.