Bohemond found Tancred treating a sick horse. He poured out his news as quickly as he could.
Ts there any truth in the story? asked his nephew. "Has this Count Raymond any sort of commission from the Pope? What kind of man is he, anyway?’
"At least ten years older than I am, very rich, a good organiser. He fought the Moors in Spain, though I don’t know which side won. He holds Toulouse from the King of France and Provence from the German Emperor. In other words, a foot in each camp. Just the sort of man the Pope might appoint to lead us, in fact But if Urban had appointed him he wouldn’t tell the Greek Emperor first, before his own faithful pilgrims had heard of it.’
"Then Raymond is lying. If he has allies both in the Empire and in France then he will also have enemies in both realms. That’s the way the world goes. But you must get in your story first, or he may carry it off by sheer impudence. Shall I wait here with our knights and knock him off his horse before he reaches the city?’
"That’s no good. He might win - his army is stronger than ours. Even if you won all the other Franks would turn against us, for breaking up this great pilgrimage before it gets properly started. That’s the real trouble, you know. The pilgrimage has grown until it is out of hand. If we do unite into one army it will be the greatest the world has ever seen. But I doubt if all of us will ever follow one commander.... Thank God our Duke is a month behind us. When he catches up he will find me a great lord, too great to be dislodged.’
"My father was a noble Lombard Marquis,’ said Tancred, "but for all that I’m proud that my mother was a Hauteville."
Chapter V - Alexius
The little party galloped down an empty road, which seemed ominous when they were so near the city. Bohemond rode in mail, because that was the easiest way to carry it; but a groom bore his lance and shield, so that he appeared peaceful. With him galloped his Greek guide and the interpreter. In the rear a few servants led packhorses, with clean linen and the silk tunic he would wear for his audience with the Emperor.
Bohemond had thought out the details of this journey. He was taking a chance. The Greeks might murder him, or throw him into a dungeon. But he must waste no time in contradicting this absurd rumour that Count Raymond had been appointed commander of the pilgrims. If he brought a small escort of faithful knights he would merely put more lives in danger; if he brought his whole army the Greeks might attack him. He must come alone.
As they climbed a gentle slope a party of Greek regular horse came out of a side road and took station as escort. "Partly to do you honour, my lord, and I regret to say partly for your safety,’ said the interpreter. "Lately the suburbs of the city have been disturbed, though the main camps of the pilgrims are beyond the harbour.’
As they reached the summit of the ridge they saw half a mile ahead a mighty wall. The paved road continued straight before them to an imposing gate, but their escort turned left along a dusty track.
"The city, my lord,’ said the interpreter. "That’s the Golden Gate. But your lodging is near the Emperor’s palace, five miles away. It will be quicker to ride round outside the walls rather than force a way through the crowds in the streets?
That was more tactful than to say that he would not be given a chance to look at the great gate more closely. Bohemond increased his pace to get clear of the dustcloud raised by the escort ; as he rode he stared at the wall.
There were at least two complete lines of defence, each set with towers; perhaps a breastwork in front of the moat might be reckoned a third outer line, though it was so grassgrown that it might be ruinous. In Bohemond’s mind a set of facts fell into place without deliberate thought. Besieging catapults could not batter the base of the inner wall until they had completely demolished that in front; a storming party would meet arrows from at least four different levels, two battlemented walls, two lines of towers. The land walls of Constantinople were impregnable.
He gazed ahead for the corner where the walls should turn away to meet the harbour, but he could not see it. "How far does this wall continue?’ he asked in a deliberately casual voice. "I suppose there are pastures and vineyards within. That is what I have seen in Old Rome.’
"On the contrary, the city fills its wall completely, and it is growing. No houses may be built outside this wall, for reasons of defence. The new suburbs lie across the harbour, the Golden Horn. That is where the pilgrims are lodged, those who have not already crossed to Asia. Would you care to ride more slowly ? It is less than five miles to your lodging, by the Blachernae Gate near the harbour and the palace.’
"Five miles? The city extends so far? Most remarkable, most interesting.’
Bohemond kept all interest out of his voice. He might have been remarking on an unusually large cabbage. He was trying to work out in his head how many inhabitants it would take to fill a built- up area five miles long by at least one wide, but the arithmetic was too much for him. He slowed to a gentle trot. His guide wished to impress him with the size of the city, and he was quite willing to look at it.
Five miles of wall more or less in a straight line, just for one side of the city. A wall of dressed masonry set with towers, as strong as the Aurelian wall of Rome; and another even bigger just behind it. WThat must it have cost to build it, even in the days of the mighty ancients? The Emperor was absolute master of all the Greeks who lived behind it, and of all their possessions. Pilgrims from the west must have felt stunned with awe when they saw it. But he, Bohemond, had chased this mighty Emperor from the battlefield, had killed to the last man his guard of gilded axebearing heroes. While he kept in mind the campaigns of his famous father he would not be awed by this Emperor of an innumerable multitude.
Presently they arrived at the head of the Golden Horn, and the small but luxurious villa where Bohemond was to lodge. There were mosaics on the floors, and a complicated steam bath; but such things were not unknown in Apulia. Servants were ready, with the usual interpreter. For some reason Bohemond felt a strange quirk of suspicion; he rejected the savoury dinner waiting ready for him, picked a live sheep from the flock at random, and dined on it as soon as it had been killed and roasted. He did not believe that Alexius would poison him. But he knew how bitterly all Franks were hated in Romania and he personally had killed a good many Greeks; what he feared was private enterprise among the servants.
It was sunset before he was ready for his private audience. He was dressed in red leather shoes, trousers of white linen crossgartered with red leather straps, a white linen shirt and a tunic of red silk. He smoothed his jaw with pumice-stone and combed his short hair. He decided that he would wear nothing at all on his head, so that no chamberlain could command him to uncover in the presence of the Emperor. For the same reason he left his sword behind. Indoors the heavy weapon would be of little use, and it would be better manners to show that he trusted the Greeks utterly. Instead he wore a handsome girdle of red leather.
The Emperor had sent a riding mule with an upholstered saddle, so there was no danger of staining his white trousers. There was another mule for the interpreter. Half-a-dozen palace guards walked; tactfully, they were not Varangians.
Night was falling as he passed through the Blachernae Gate into the city. The gate itself was of the usual Roman style, a short tunnel of masonry with plenty of loopholes for arrows. The barrier at the inner end would yield easily to a battering-ram, except that the bearers of the ram would be shot at close range before they could get it there. In the gathering darkness he could just make out that only a single wall shut off the city from the harbour. The quay was so narrow that boarding bridges slung from the masts of ships might reach the battlements. A determined assault from the harbour might penetrate into the city. But a chain would bar the harbour mouth. The assailants would have to carry the defences on the far side of the Golden Horn before they could approach the quay.
He pulled himself together. He was not planning an attack on the Emperor in his own city. It was just that he could not see a strong place held by s
omeone else without looking for the spot where he could break in.
The Palace of Blachernae was smaller than he had expected; but within it blazed like a jewel. The ante-room, faced with coloured marble, shone as bright as day. As he walked on the inlaid pavement double doors flew open before him; chamberlains, dressed like flowers in green tunics and wide headdresses of gaily coloured gauze, motioned him to enter.
He strode in alone, save for the unobtrusive interpreter who was so easily forgotten. At the far end of a long hall, among guards and councillors, the Emperor of New Rome sat on a throne of purple silk and chased bronze. Around him were tall feather fans and smoking censers, as when the Pope gave formal audience in the Palace of the Lateran. Bowing his head, Bohemond touched the floor with his right knee. It was the salute he had decided on before he set out. If any chamberlain tried to make him do more he would explain that it was the salute he gave to God before the high altar of a cathedral.
He had done the right thing. At his elbow the interpreter was speaking: "Rise, noble Count. The Emperor salutes you graciously. Now you are to follow him through that little door behind the Throne of the World. He will honour you by conferring with you in his private chamber.’ This was getting better and better.
There were only three of them in the little room, the Emperor Alexius, the inevitable interpreter, and Count Bohemond. He wished his grandfather could see him now; he had come a long way from Hauteville. The room was cool, though lamps burned everywhere; in the middle was a little marble table strewn with writing materials; and round it, glory of glories, three backless stools and a tall chair of state.
"Sit on my right, Count Bohemond.’ But the interpreter made no move to be seated. Bohemond perceived that he was now literally the Emperor’s mouth. Trembling with delight, he sat on a stool and for the first time looked hard at his host.
Alexius was a little man, though neat and well made. His face was very dark, and his full beard quite black. He wore a long tunic of silk, embroidered with various religious and imperial symbols; on his head the imperial crown, a close-fitting jewelled cap from which hung a camail that seemed to be made entirely of pearls. He looked anxious and worried, as well he might; but not at all frightened.
"Well, Count, you are as big as they told me. I’m glad that outside Durazzo I did not stay to encounter your lance. You chased me then, there’s no denying it; and though I pushed you back to Italy in the end I never made you flee from the field at full speed. I feel that after all those campaigns we are old acquaintances. Certainly you know more about the affairs of Romania than any of your fellow-pilgrims. So I want to talk things over with you. To begin with, what exactly are your aims? Suppose everything falls out as you wish it, what is the most you hope to accomplish?’
"I did not hear the Pope speak, your majesty. I can’t answer for those who heard him. But none of the other great lords were at Clermont either. The object of this pilgrimage is to free Jerusalem from the infidel. To get there we must fight your enemies the Turks of Anatolia.’
"And when Jerusalem is free, do you all go back home again?’
"Some will go home, some will stay to defend the Holy City. I don’t know yet which I shall do.’
"The last Christian ruler of Jerusalem was my predecessor, the Emperor Heraclius. Will you recognise my right as his heir?’
"Your majesty’s predecessor the Emperor Constantine ruled Paris and all Gaul. Has Count Hugh, brother to the King of the Franks, recognised your right to his native land?’
"A sensible answer. At one time or another either Old Rome or New Rome ruled every comer of the known world. A claim that no one has enforced for centuries is no claim. For more than four hundred years we have prospered without Jerusalem, and we can manage without it in the future. We can’t manage so well without Anatolia, which was lost very recently. I am not an old man, yet when I was bom our Emperor ruled as far east as Armenia. What about this as a compromise? You pilgrims recognise our right to the frontier of thirty years ago, before the Turks beat us at Manzikert? In return we recognise your right to anything you may conquer beyond that frontier.’
"Your majesty is righteous and fair-dealing. But I have an even better plan. At home we may be Normans or Flemings or Frenchmen, but we are here because we are Christians. Let a united Christian army march against the infidel. I for one shall recognise your leadership. I know by experience that you are a cunning warleader. There is also the point that you have plenty of money, while we are poor pilgrims. This is a chance that may never come again. The onset of our knights is irresistible; our cross-bows are more deadly than your archers. Frankly, the rest of our foot are poor material, our knights do not always obey orders, and we get muddled over questions of supply. You know the roads of Anatolia, there must be veterans among your soldiers who have been inside all the cities now held by the Turks, you have disciplined foot and skilled engineers. Let us fight under your command.’
"That’s a generous offer, Count Bohemond. Will the other Counts agree with you? I have heard that this Count Isangeles, who is nearly arrived, claims that the Pope has appointed him to be your supreme commander.’
"What of it? No Frank will believe his claim. I rode here in haste to warn you against his pretensions. As for the other Counts, I can talk them round if you will let me offer them something. Let them have all the lands and castles they want, on condition they hold them from you and admit your supremacy. You will have to keep them obedient in the mean time, before they have conquered their fiefs. That’s where your money comes in. Feed them and pay them generously, and they will follow you.’
"A splendid chance, as you say. A campaign to free all Anatolia. It is also a heavy responsibility. It may take years, and I shall have to be absent from the city. I have to do other things than fight. In my spare time I must govern this Empire.’
Bohemond jumped to seize this magnificent opening.
"Your majesty need not accompany the army throughout the campaign. Let me represent you. That’s it. I remain with the army, and command it in your absence. Pay your subsidies through me, so that I can cut off supplies from the disobedient. I shall need to hold some rank in your service, some post that will impress your men as well as the Franks. How would this do? Your commander-in-chief is called the Grand Domestic, isn’t he? Well, make me your Grand Domestic in Anatolia. I shall swear any oath of fealty you choose to draft, before any witnesses you name. We were made for one another, you and I. You are the most resourceful and steadfast commander alive, and I don’t think there exists anywhere in the world the man who can withstand my charge. With your brain and my sword we shall drive back those Turks to Scythia, and together restore all the glories of New Rome.’
"Very probably we would,’ the Emperor agreed. "The question is: after the Empire had been restored to all its past glories, which of us would be ruling it? My dear Count, I suspect that you also have a brain, just as I also have a sword. Seriously, it is just half an hour since we met in peace for the first time. What would my councillors think if you came away from our first conference commander-in-chief of my army? Affairs move more slowly in this complicated eastern world. But it’s a plan worth bearing in mind.
I don’t say No and I don’t say Yes, so far. There remains, however, the question of your oath of fealty. I suppose you are willing to swear obedience while you are within my dominions? The other Counts have already sworn so much. As witnesses, what do you say to Count Godfrey and his brother Count Baldwin? Both of them happen to be staying as my guests in this palace tonight, and they are anxious to meet you. Their armies, by the way, have already been ferried over to Anatolia. Shall we move back to the throne-room? Then we can summon them from their chambers.’
Bohemond’s thoughts were racing. It seemed odd to do anything so formal as oath-swearing after sunset; but then these Greeks, with their bright lamps, notoriously turned night into day. If these two great lords had already sworn fealty there could be no harm in doing the same. When they met him
for the first time they would see him as the honoured guest and friend of the Emperor, which was all to the good. Now what did he know about those two leaders?
They were of high birth, descended in the female line from Charlemagne, like so many noble Franks. Godfrey had been a Duke in Lorraine; but by appointment from the German Emperor, not as a hereditary ruler. Baldwin was a landless younger son. Both must intend to remain in the Holy Land for the rest of their lives, since they had no estates waiting for them at home. Their eldest brother, Count Eustace of Boulogne, had come with them and indeed paid for the journey; but he was not so famous a warrior as either of his brothers, and while they were abroad was content to take third place.
Ushers brought in the two Counts. They were handsome warriors, younger than Bohemond, and of course not so tall; he had never seen a man taller than himself, and only his nephew Tancred equalled him in height. He was pleased to note that their clothes of ceremony were not so grand as his. They wore the usual white trousers and coloured leather shoes, but their tunics were of blue woollen cloth; very closely woven, very well dyed, but all the same nothing but wool. Of course silk was a great rarity in northern France where they came from. Only in one point of dress did they surpass him. Over their shoes they wore little spurs of gilded steel, to remind the world that normally they rode instead of walking. A very pretty little mark of distinction. Bohemond vowed to have such spurs made, though of genuine gold, as soon as he could order them from a craftsman of the city.
What really mattered was their greeting, when the interpreter introduced the noble Count Bohemond. They must have known that he was the grandson of a simple country knight, for in their world everyone knew the ancestry of everyone else. But he stood there, the tallest and most stately warrior they had ever seen, better dressed than they and evidently a favoured friend of the Emperor of the Greeks. The descendants of Charlemagne bowed to him as to an equal. He had got safely over a difficult hurdle.
Count Bohemond Page 9
