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Thank you. It's the early morning of July 24th, 1148, outside the Wall City of Damascus on the edge of the Syrian desert.

A young French soldier, caked and dust and sweat, peers through the closely packed men ahead.

He's part of a 50,000 strong crusader army that stretches as far as the eye can see.

There are soldiers here from all over Western Europe, a mass of men so vast it seems impossible for any city to stand against him.

But the soldier is also tired. He and his comrades have marched for four days through the desert to get here. Now the day is already heating up

again. Beyond the lines of men in front of him, the soldier can see the ancient walls of Damascus

shimmering in the rising heat. The soldier licks his parched lips.

With a prize finally in sight, the weight of their mission starts to sink in. They are here

to capture Damascus for all of Christiandom. The soldier tries to shake off his uncertainty.

They've all been told that the Muslim forces inside the city are weak and divided,

and despite the high walls that protect them,

the defenders won't be able to withstand such a mighty army as they are.

A sharp horn sounds across the valley.

The soldier drips his weapon as the army around him begins to surge forward as one.

As he marches onward, the soldier feels a sense of divine purpose. With God on their side, surely victory is inevitable.

The city before them will fall, its walls will crumble, and the banners of Christ will soon fly high above Damascus.

The assault on Damascus will end in triumph, but not for the Crusaders.

Instead, the Muslim forces inside the city will repel the attackers

...