“I know you are the lord Bohemond, for you are the tallest of the Franks. We may be able to do business together, just you and I with no third parties. It must be done swiftly. What price do you offer for secret entry into three towers on the western wall of Mount Silpius?”
Bohemond sat up with a jerk. At the last possible moment, when he was planning the life he would lead in Italy after the failure of the pilgrimage, God had sent him the traitor he had been seeking for eight months. It seemed too good to be true. He must find out more about this man.
“I can’t offer a great fortune. The siege has dragged on so long that the pilgrims have no money left. But if money was what you wanted you would have spoken sooner. The man who lets me into Antioch will be under the protection of all Christendom, with sufficient land and gold to live without ploughing his own fields. I promise only what I can perform. If that is enough we can begin to talk business. In the first place, who are you and how do you command three towers? You are not a Turk.”
“Your offer is enough. I want to die of old age, I don’t seek riches. The executioner comes closer every minute, and what is one more treason after all my past sins? I may even dodge Hell after I am dead, and that’s something I had given up hoping for. So here, very briefly, is all about me.
“I am an Armenian, a baptized Christian. I shall not tell you my name, since I have brought disgrace on my kin. When I served the Greek Emperor I was known as Pyrrhus, the Turks now call me Firouz. It’s ten years since I fell into the hands of Yaghi-Siyan, emir of Antioch. I had fought well, and I was offered life if I would deny Christ. I did so. We can’t all be martyrs. Now that I see a chance of dying a Christian I want to change sides again. That is enough.”
“It’s not nearly enough,” snapped Bohemond. “Since October the pilgrims have lain before Antioch and now it is late in May. Why did you fight for your masters all through the winter, and why have you now decided to change sides? What’s all this about the approaching executioner?”
He must hear a convincing explanation of what might be a trap. But he liked his first impression of this double traitor; the man had said honestly thaf fear had made him a renegade, when he might have tried to find excuses for his wickedness. Besides, it could have been pride as much as fear. Warriors of noble birth found it unbearable to live as taxpaying serfs even when the infidels granted mercy.
“Yaghi-Siyan won’t be emir of Antioch much longer. His men will yield unless relief comes soon, but any Turkish lord who drives the pilgrims from Antioch will keep the fortress for himself. My emir likes me and trusts me; for that matter I like him. He’s a stout warrior and an honest man. Kerbogha, or any other Turkish lord, will probably take away my sword and sell me as a slave. I might be castrated and put to look after the women. That justifies any treachery, doesn’t it? Anyway, my present lord is beginning to suspect me. I am afraid.”
“He suspects you? And you command three towers? You must tell me a great deal more.”
“He doesn’t suspect my fidelity. You see, I am his man, whom he relies on to protect him from discontented Turks. Turks might set up another emir, but they wouldn’t follow an Armenian. That part of it is safe enough. But there are other troubles. One is about money. Turks like money, but they can get it only by the sword. They won’t work for it, and they don’t know how to buy and sell. Every Armenian can do that, even an Armenian warrior. When food grew scarce I sold bread to the Christians of Antioch. I would take nothing but gold, and I did quite well by it. Presently the emir found out. He took my gold, gold I had earned by my skill as a trader. I explained that I had been acting as his agent all along and that it was all his anyway. But he suspected that if he had not found out about it I might have kept some for myself. Any emir feels himself cheated if all the gold in his country does not belong to him. He thinks I may still be cheating him. One day he may torture me, just to make sure. The other trouble is about my wife. The emir is her lover. There is nothing I can do about it, and in a way it keeps me safe. As a mistress she amuses the emir, because a woman reared as a Christian is not so submissive as the women of the infidels. But I suspect that Anna has begun to think of joining the emir’s household, to better herself. The infidels are very hot against adultery. She could only enter that household as a widow. The suspicion puts me off my food, which she cooks. I don’t see a very long career for me as the trusted captain of the emir Yaghi-Siyan. But today I am his trusted captain, trusted to command three towers.”
“It seems to me that you gained very little by denying Christ,” said Bohemond. “I see why you are in a hurry. The deal must go through before the army of relief arrives, and Curbaram is now before Edessa. Well, it’s agreed. Now when we get in there will be a bloody sack. Are there any members of your family whom you want to keep safe? Presumably you will let your wife take her chance.”
“I have a brother in one of the other towers; he joined the Turks when I did. I would like to save him but I dare not tell him anything. He must take his chance with my wife. The only one who must be saved is my ten-year-old son. He will be in the tower with me when you enter, and you must swear that he will be first out of the town, before the fighting begins.”
“That I’ll swear. Meanwhile you have named your hostage. He will be first out of the town, as you say. But he will be in the Christian camp before the first pilgrim enters Antioch. If we find a trap waiting for us he will be burned alive.”
Pyrrhus reflected, and then shrugged assent. “Of course you must have a hostage. Clever of you to find out so quickly which member of my household is really dear to me. Since no treachery is intended my son will come to no harm. The difficulty will be getting him into your camp. He can slip down from the wall unobserved ; but he lives in my tower and my men will soon notice his absence. I can’t send him to you before the day of the assault.”
“That will be soon enough. He will be in my hands before I trust myself to you. That is the only condition, but we must not waste time. It will take a day or two to arrange this. I must get the whole army under arms, without telling the men why. I am not in supreme command, you know; we have no supreme commander. Can you come here again to see me?”
“I can get here fairly easily, when I can be absent from my post. In Antioch I pass as a Turk and wear Turkish dress, so the other Armenians won’t recognize me. It must all be done within the week. Do you know that Kerbogha has decided to raise the siege of Edessa and march here? When he arrives you will have to retreat. Now forgive me, my lord, but I should like to have some idea of the reward that awaits me.”
“Here is a key. Open that box. It is full of gold bezants, given to me last year by the Emperor Alexius in person. You may count them and test them, and for that matter take the key home with you. I hung on to that gold all winter, even when I might have bought food with it. I expected that one day I would need it at short notice. Besides the gold, when I am lord of Antioch I shall give you three or four villages.”
“I shan’t open the box. The word of the giant Bohemond is good even among the infidels. I don’t want land. All I want is a few more years of life, until my son is old enough to carry a sword and defend himself. Only you can give it to me. There is one more promise I must have from you. Swear on your sword that you will not tell another living soul before you climb the wall.”
“Until an hour before I climb the wall. I won’t climb it alone, and my followers must be told where they are going.”
“An hour, no longer. You wouldn’t have made that condition unless you intended to keep your word. Will you give me your hand on the bargain? I shall be here again tomorrow or the next day. Then we shall fix the time of the assault, before Kerbogha can arrive. It will be a tight fit.”
Bohemond put out his hand without hesitation. Pyrrhus was a double traitor and a double renegade. But he seemed to be the kind of warrior who would keep a solemn promise. In Apulia he had met Normans who were even greater scoundrels.
Soon after Pyrrhus had slipped away
Tancred came in to discuss the stormy council of that morning. Bohemond found it hard to keep his promise not to let anyone into the secret. Tancred was in despair, continually talking about the need to find a traitor just when one had in fact appeared. They agreed that the outlook was hopeless. When Curbaram approached the pilgrims must evacuate the left bank of the Orontes; as soon as the two Turkish armies united they must retire to the mountains of Armenia. It was possible that they would advance in the spring, with Greek help; but the Apulians and many other pilgrims would continue back to Europe.
Every morning the leaders met in council, to hear the latest reports of Curbaram’s advance. With a handful of knights and many allied Armenians, Count Baldwin was holding the strong fortress of Edessa. Perhaps Curbaram had sat down to besiege it; or he might have passed by and continued his march on Antioch. Christian peasants continually reported the arrival of more Turks. But they were peasants, inexperienced in war. Were these Turks foragers, gathering supplies for a siege? Or were they the vanguard of the army of relief? The peasants were agreed that Edessa was still in Christian hands, but they could not be more definite.
Bohemond, putting himself in Curbaram’s place, guessed that a veteran Turkish commander would leave Edessa to fall by its own weight after the pilgrims had been driven from Syria. That would be the wiser plan. But the Turks were boasters who hated to admit a check. Curbaram might be so angry with the weak garrison of Edessa that he would stay to kill every Christian in the place. Everything hung on Curbaram’s movements. The pilgrims must retire before him, but there was just a chance that they might win Antioch before he could arrive.
Since Bohemond had sworn not to speak of the intended treason of Pyrrhus the advice he gave the council was even more gloomy than his private thoughts. Tancred loyally backed him up, though he was a little puzzled by the faint heart of his famous uncle. After a few days the council was unanimous on one point: that very soon the whole army of the pilgrimage would suffer a terrible defeat. Nevertheless the Counts were divided into two factions: those who would die where they stood, and those who wished to retreat into Armenia.
The climax came on the morning of the 2nd of June. At daybreak the Count of Blois rode out with a company of north Frenchmen, fully armed and shield on neck. They said quite openly that they would not face another Syrian winter, neither would they cross again the awful mountains of Armenia. They were on their way to the Cilician port of Alexandretta, whence they would take ship for France. If other pilgrims barred their way they would fight rather than be turned back. They added that those pilgrims who still lingered before Antioch were in danger of the mortal sin of suicide.
Tancred, watching the road with his little patrol of knights, sent to ask his uncle for instructions. Bohemond jumped on the nearest horse and rode out all unarmed to see what was going on.
“It would be rather fun to charge them,” he said to Tancred. “I bet I could bowl over the Count of Blois as I am, in my gown, just by bumping my horse into his. Some of his knights are better stuff, but they can load their dishonour on his shoulders. A vassal cannot be blamed for following his lord. So we must let them go, rather than start a civil war. Report to the council of leaders, if ever the leaders meet again. But this looks like the end of the pilgrimage. I shan’t be the next to go, but we ought to get our Apulians packed and ready.”
In silence Tancred leaned over his horse’s shoulder and with the point of his lance scratched a line in the dusty earth.
“Confound you, my boy,” said Bohemond. “A grown man who takes a dare is a fool. But I have no lord below the Pope, and I can be a fool if I choose. Very well. I also stay south of that line. You and I will kill a lot of infidels. Perhaps we may kill them all before they kill us. As far as I can see that’s our only hope of survival.”
“We never had any other hope, since we left Apulia,” Tancred answered.
As they rode back to camp Duke Godfrey hailed them. “Blois has gone,” he called, “and a lot of north French with him. What happens next? Do we follow?”
“My nephew has decided to stay,” answered Bohemond. “I shall stay to keep an eye on him. I owe that much to my sister. If you stay also, so will the others.”
Godfrey shrugged. “This pilgrimage was never safe. I’m sorry it will end here, when I had hoped to liberate the Holy Sepulchre. I wonder if we can get the women away before the end?”
“It can’t be done,” Bohemond explained. “They would be enslaved by Greeks, or Armenians, or by casual pirates. So if Turks don’t capture them they can buy them. Perhaps your knights might escort them through Armenia.”
“No, I stay and my knights with me. It’s too late to escape, anyway. Within three days Curbaram will be here, and he would overtake our retreat. What on earth made the Count of Blois flee so disgracefully? A man of his birth, married to the sister of the King of England—I can’t understand it.”
“His abacus scared him, of course,” said Bohemond cheerfully. “If you just feel hungry you hope for a good dinner tomorrow. But if you have figures to prove that there will never be enough food you look for a way out. I wonder what his wife will say when he gets home? A pity we shall never hear an account of that meeting.”
“You may think like that, you must not talk like that,” said Godfrey sharply. “We may win, though it needs a miracle. Anyway we don’t want to discourage the foot. We are all looking forward to a jolly battle.”
They separated, each going to see if there was any breakfast in his pavilion.
As Bohemond dismounted, a spearman came forward. “I hope I did right, my lord. There’s a young boy in your bedchamber, a local of some kind, Christian or infidel. I searched him, and he’s unarmed. He can’t speak any proper language but he keeps on asking for the lord Bohemond. They are the only Frankish words he knows. He’s too young to be a spy but he might be a messenger, so I let him wait for you.”
In the inner apartment Bohemond found a boy about ten years of age. He wore silk, though he was thin and grubby; but then so was everyone else on both sides by this stage of the war. He spoke in careful though clumsy Greek.
“My father Pyrrhus sends me as a hostage. He says you must come tonight or not at all. Until dawn he will wait for you in the Tower of the Three Sisters. You must put a ladder to the window, and enter the tower itself so that you cannot be seen from the wall. If you are not there by dawn my father will climb down a rope and flee to the mountains. He thinks that tomorrow he will be arrested, or at least dismissed from his post. There is no time to be lost.”
“I see. Where are you supposed to be at this minute?”
“That’s another reason for haste. The soldiers think I am with my mother, my mother thinks I am in the tower. Often the emir visits my mother, and if he comes tonight he may send for me. You cannot delay. And my father said to remind you that you have sworn on your honour as a warrior that no other Frank will know the secret until an hour before it happens.”
“I shan’t tell anyone. You are as safe as any Frank, which isn’t saying much. But this needs thinking out. I can’t tell the pilgrims, I must persuade them to follow me blindly.”
Bohemond sat with his head in his hands. He might not give orders, and he had twelve hours or less to arrange the assault. Perhaps it was too late anyway. While they were fighting on the walls Curbaram might crash into them, and they would all be martyred.
Such a man as he could reasonably expect to die in battle, one day. It was natural to postpone the event as long as possible. He did not look forward with pleasure to martyrdom, as did Tancred. He did not greatly care about the liberation of the Holy Sepulchre. He did not even hate Turks, so long as they did not come near Apulia. He had volunteered for this pilgrimage because there were too many other Hautevilles in Italy. Even when Tancred had persuaded him to heroism he had been secretly hoping that after the final lost battle a knight of his strength and skill might be able to cut his way through to St. Simeon. Now, within a few hours, he must risk all on on
e throw of the dice.
The risk must be taken. By tomorrow he would be in Antioch, the magnet that had lured him half across the world. He might be dead there, but it was a good place to die in. If he was still alive he would be lord of the great fortress. All he had to do now was to plan the means.
Today there would be no meeting of the council of leaders. Everything was still too disorganized after the flight of the Count of Blois. So he must unofficially persuade the whole army to follow him. That might not be too difficult. Everyone knew there was a crisis, everyone would be ready for a sudden move. He spoke Greek, and if he pretended to private information he would be believed. Most people took his advice on the battlefield; at Dorylaeum he had saved the whole pilgrimage; when they were starving he had taken convoys from the infidel. He must issue his commands at the last minute, so that Count Raymond had no time to object. Who would proclaim his orders?
It ought to be someone fairly well known, but not a knight who might query Bohemond’s authority. At the entry of his pavilion he happened to see a foot-sergeant. That man would do. He had a loud voice and he was well known. At the siege of Nicaea, more than a year ago, he had ventured so close to the wall that a Turk had emptied a bucket of filth on him; that narrow escape was the greatest adventure which had ever befallen him, and he spoke of it constantly. As a result his comrades knew him as Dirty Crown.
“Hey, Dirty Crown, come here. I have a job for you. This afternoon I want you to take that Turkish pony, and that Turkish drum. You must go through the whole camp, beating the drum and crying my message. Curbaram is near. Our only chance is to destroy him before he reaches Antioch, as we destroyed the last army of relief in the battle by the lake. Proclaim that at sunset every man must be armed and ready to march out. We shall march east to surprise Cubaram’s camp in the dark. I shall lead you. And by the way, Dirty Crown, if anyone asks you whether this has been decided by the whole council of leaders you may as well tell the truth. It hasn’t. It’s no more than what I think best. But there’s no need to say that until they ask you.”
Count Bohemond Page 25
