It sounded as though the town below the castle was fairly peaceful. As yet there was no organization to enforce order, and no law. But all the infidels had been killed in the first sack, and the Christians who remained were glad to be liberated. Most pilgrims were too tired for further pillage, all the wine had been drunk, and public opinion disapproved of the rape of Christian women. Perhaps property was changing hands with little formality, but it did not sound as though much blood was being shed.
The Apulians in the castle were proud of themselves, but a little discontented. In the great battle they had fought harder than anyone else, and suffered the heaviest casualties. They did not care to guard the castle while other pilgrims enjoyed themselves in the lawless town. Bohemond sympathized, but it had to be done.
Soon after midnight Duke Godfrey arrived, after climbing on foot from the river bank. He wore a gown instead of mail, and his face and hands were clean; but the shadows round his eyes showed that he had not rested since the battle. He answered the sentry’s challenge in a hoarse croak; but he was too tired to stop walking and wait for permission to enter. As soon as he was through the door he sat on a handy chest and closed his eyes.
“Phew, what a long day, and still there’s more to do. The leaders meet tomorrow morning, I suppose I ought to say today. There are important questions to be decided, and no one has had any sleep. You’ll be there, I know, Count Bohemond. Then I hope we can all rest for a few months, to recover from this campaign.”
“I’ll be there. I can keep going until midday. That will be about my limit. A night of planning, a day of battle, another night to sort out the men and the plunder. By afternoon we shall all be flat on our backs. I suppose there is something you want to discuss with me privately before the meeting. May Tancred hear it?”
“Of course. It concerns all the knights of Apulia. But without your consent there is no chance of its going through. It’s about this castle. Count Raymond says you ought not to be holding it with only your own men. He says that all Antioch, including the castle, belongs to the Greek Emperor. According to the oath we swore at Nicaea the pilgrims as a whole ought to hold it in trust for him.”
“That’s something we can discuss in the morning. Or, better still, discuss it after a few days, when we are not so sleepy.”
“That’s what I said, of course. My dear Bohemond, I know you got us into Antioch, I know the Turks yielded the castle to you, after refusing to yield it to Raymond. You have a better right to it than anyone else, and in council I shall support that right. But Raymond served us well, you know, by holding the town when he was too weak to stand. His fever is trying to the temper. He threatens that before dawn he will send his men against the castle, unless you will allow them to come in peacefully. Anything is better than open war among the pilgrims. Please allow some south Frenchmen to come in. Your men need not leave.”
“If a south Frenchman shoots a single arrow at this castle I shall call on Count Raymond,” said Tancred. “Give me a minute to put on my mail. I suppose he is still in what’s left of the emir’s palace? If he is too weak to stand I shall cut off his head as he lies on his litter. He can’t take other men’s castles and then plead sickness to dodge the consequences.”
“I command here,” said Bohemond quickly. “Before you leave, young Tancred, you must swear peace with Count Raymond. Otherwise I shall put you in chains. Godfrey is right. Any injustice is better than civil war among the pilgrims. Besides, if these south French come inside the castle they may not stay with us for very long.”
“I’ll swear peace rather than wreck the pilgrimage,” Tancred answered. “But can you get an oath from every Apulian, and will they all do as they have sworn? If the south French come here there will be swords drawn in this hall before sunrise.”
“That’s true, you know, Godfrey. My men don’t like the south French, and certainly I won’t withdraw them from the castle.”
“I thought of an answer to that, if you will agree. Robert of Flanders says I may use his knights as I think fit until this has been settled. He doesn’t care where they are stationed. He still plans to go home as soon as Jerusalem is free, and that won’t be long now. My knights will go where I tell them. What about this? For every Apulian in the castle we bring in a south Frenchman. Raymond must admit that is fair. Then for every south Frenchman we bring in a Fleming, and for every Apulian a Lorrainer. They will keep the peace between the factions. No great lords will come with them, so you, Bohemond, remain in command.”
“A crowded garrison, but it will be rather fun to watch them. By all means let’s do that. Even Tancred can’t object.”
As dawn was breaking the supplementary garrisons arrived. Soon every foot of floor was occupied by a sleeping pilgrim. If they had been close kinsmen, reared in the same nursery, such crowding would soon have brought quarrels.
The congregation for the dawn Mass in the cathedral was tired and bleary eyed. It was a solemn Mass of thanksgiving for victory, offered by the legate in person with several other pilgrim Bishops on the altar; so it went on rather longer than an ordinary weekday Mass. The Patriarch sat politely in the choir, surrounded by Greek clergy, until all was finished; and then began a much more elaborate liturgy in his own rite. The pilgrims slipped away to breakfast.
By mid-morning the leaders were gathered once more in the cathedral, which seemed to be the best place for a council. The Patriarch sat on his throne and the legate gave him precedence. Antioch had taken no part in the quarrel between Rome and Constantinople; the Patriarch, seated in his own cathedral, was acknowledged by every Christian to be the legitimate successor of St. Peter. But he could not preside over the council since he spoke no Frankish.
Count Raymond was there, so weak that he was supported until he sat down in a choir-stall. His chaplains brought in the Holy Lance and placed it with ceremony on the High Altar. Even Bohemond and Tancred bowed as it was borne by, for after it had led them to their miraculous victory no one could doubt that it was a true relic. Then, after a gesture of politeness to the silent Patriarch, Duke Godfrey declared the meeting open.
It was a stormy meeting. Tancred lost his temper early and went on speaking after Duke Godfrey had commanded him to sit down; so that everyone began to shout at once. There was no foe within miles, no need to be ready to fight; the sketchy discipline which had bound the pilgrims together was beginning to evaporate. There were two different subjects to be decided: who would be lord of Antioch and when the army should resume its advance. But everyone discussed both at once, without listening to other speakers.
From the babble of voices Bohemond could distinguish two main opinions. No other leader wanted Antioch for himself, and most of them were willing for Bohemond to keep what he had won. But the south French would fight rather than leave Bohemond in possession; and some churchmen close to the legate, who kept silent, still held that they were bound to oath to give it back to the Greeks. If heads were counted the majority would be in his favour; but the minority were so strongly against him that they would fight rather than yield.
At last Godfrey rose from his seat. He did not attempt to close the meeting, for he could not be heard above the noise. Instead he went up to a few great men, indicating that they should follow him into the Lady Chapel behind the High Altar.
They stood there, rocking on their feet from weariness, blinking away the spots before their eyes, trying to shut out from their aching heads the clamour in the choir. They could just hear Godfrey speak.
“This must stop, before bloodshed defiles the cathedral. It’s my fault. We met too soon. I should have given you all another day of rest. But those Greek clergy are watching. Gentlemen, what will they think of us? Will you agree on this compromise? Let the army disperse until All Saints, the 1st of November. You may go off to plunder the infidel, or you may rest here. But for God’s sake separate, before your men start fighting one another. As to the lordship of Antioch, that is really two questions. Ought we to give it to Alexius? If not, who gets it? I su
ggest that we give Alexius one more chance. Send him a messenger, someone of high rank. Tell him that Antioch is now Christian. Give him until All Saints, the day we are to muster. If he is here then, with his whole army, we shall return Antioch to him. If not, we shall decide at leisure who shall be its lord. During the summer the present mixed garrison shall hold it. If you agree, gentlemen, persuade your men to disperse.”
“My objection is formal only,” said Bohemond. “We should not offer to return Antioch to Alexius, for he has never held it. If you propose to give it to him, provided he comes in good time, I am willing to seal the letter. Of course my seal will be placed below that of Count Raymond, as is fitting to my rank. By the way, who will be the messenger?”
“I agree with my whole heart,” said Count Raymond. “I shall seal the letter as soon as it is written. I recognize with gratitude the public spirit of Count Bohemond, who has put the welfare of the pilgrimage before his personal interest. Permit me to embrace you, my lord. I should like to carry this message of reconciliation, but I fear that for many weeks I shall be unfit for hard riding.”
“I will carry the letter,” the Count of Vermandois put in eagerly. “I suppose the legate will dispense me from my pilgrim’s oath? I swore never to turn back until I had heard Mass in the Holy Sepulchre, and I can’t visit the Emperor without turning back.”
“Of course you are dispensed, in such a worthy cause,” Bishop Adhemar said. “Bless you all, my comrades. With a special blessing for Count Bohemond, who has made such a great renunciation for the Glory of God. Now let us disperse, and forget all our quarrels. When we meet again, on the auspicious feast of All Saints, we shall go forward like a band of brothers and quickly liberate the Holy Sepulchre. I would add only one thing. So long as we are in Antioch you must pay all due honour to the steadfast Confessor John the Oxite. He is the lawful Patriarch, the rightful successor of St. Peter. He is no schismatic, for he is in no way subject to the erroneous Patriarch of Constantinople. Respect all priests of the Greek rite. If they could understand our language I would ask you to confess to them.”
When the lesser pilgrims saw their lords come out of the Lady Chapel in complete agreement they dispersed willingly. It was a sudden and surprising change of temper; so curious indeed that Tancred tackled his uncle about it as they plodded together up to the castle.
“Why on earth did you cave in like that, just when you had Antioch so nearly in your grasp? Those pilgrims who intended to go home afterwards don’t care who holds the place—the Flemings and Duke Robert’s men and so on. Duke Godfrey has come round to your side since you won the great battle for him. Some of the clergy are worried about our oath to the Greeks, but they could easily be shown that Alexius has broken his side of the bargain. Only Count Raymond is against you, and if it came to open war not all his men would follow him. If they do support their lord the Apulians could kill them all in an afternoon. South Frenchmen—no better than monkeys.”
“Are you so sure that I caved in? I made a noble gesture which must win public opinion to my side, but I didn’t really give away very much. I could hardly keep my face straight when the Count of Vermandois wriggled so neatly out of his vow. Do you think that after he has found Alexius he will come back? I don’t, though I may be uncharitable. He will travel on to France, and speak highly of the great Bohemond once he gets there. No one can call him forsworn, that’s the beauty of it. Of course Count Raymond thinks he has got the better of me—but I know the Greeks better than he does. Consider the passage of time, as advised by the wise men of old. If Count Hugh does not mean to come back he must pack his baggage. He’s not the most energetic of travellers, and the mountains of Armenia are a troublesome obstacle. Once he is over them he must find Alexius. That letter won’t be delivered until late in July. Say three months for Alexius to get here, and he won’t dare come without his army. You know how Greeks prepare for such an expedition. Orders must go out from the city to gather provisions and money. The mercenaries won’t start until they can see the waggons. They will fight for their pay, they won’t starve for it. I think Alexius will still be absent when All Saints’ Day comes.”
“I see. A very pretty plan. And there is something more that you forget to mention. Alexius is now fighting the Turks, but he must have arranged to go home for the winter. He can’t leave the city for a whole year, or he will find another Emperor waiting for him when he gets back. Perhaps he will start some of his soldiers on the long march to Syria; but he himself will have to visit the city first, and such a careful man will take his guards with him. From the city to Antioch in three months at the most, and with a great army? It can’t be done. You have behaved generously. Alexius will be in the wrong, and yet Antioch must be yours. I wish I were clever enough to negotiate like that.”
“You are quite as clever. It’s just that you are younger and haven’t seen so much of the wickedness of the world. By winter I shall have Antioch.”
In the castle a servant announced that envoys fom the Genoese fleet at St. Simeon were anxious to talk with the mighty lord Bohemond. But he asked them to wait for a full day, while he slept. Genoa was an important republic, and it would be prudent to keep on good terms with her sailors; but a wise man would not negotiate with Genoese envoys while he was too sleepy to have all his wits about him.
Negotiations with Genoa took time. The treaty was not sealed until the 14th of July. In it Bohemond lord of Antioch granted the Genoese a market, a church, and a block of houses to live in; this factory would be governed by the laws of Genoa, and ruled by a consul appointed from Genoa. In return the Genoese should have recognized him as lord of Antioch, but they would not openly take sides in such a disputed question. All they would promise was to support him against any pilgrim who tried to take the town from him—with the exception of Count Raymond, the only pilgrim who might do it. In a war between Raymond and Bohemond they would stand neutral.
This was not recognition of Bohemond’s lordship; in fact it was the very opposite. But it indicated that Genoa would be content to accept his rule if he could enforce it. The council of leaders would not meet before November; if by that time he was supreme in the town the leaders would recognize accomplished facts.
Meanwhile Antioch stank, and went hungry. Everywhere in the plain and in the town itself were lightly buried corpses; and this year there would be no harvest, for the peasants had not dared to cultivate their fields after the fighting had started last autumn. No one was surprised when plague broke out.
Bohemond lodged in the crowded castle, with his followers nearby in the upper town. Count Raymond lay sick in the emir’s palace, by the Bridge Gate which his sentries controlled. The hall of the castle was divided among the four contingents of its garrison by coloured lines drawn on the floor, and food was cooked in four separate kitchens. Apulians never went downhill, south French never went uphill; so that in general peace prevailed.
All the same, Antioch was no place to lodge in for pleasure. The great lords who were not concerned in the dispute rode off elsewhere. The Duke of Normandy went down to the coast, where Edgar and his English fleet helped him to plunder various seaports. But the two unlikely allies were not bent on setting up a permanent fief, and presently Greek mercenaries from Cyprus opposed them. It was known that Duke Robert would continue to Jerusalem with the main pilgrimage, so intending settlers and Italian merchants did not seek his protection. As usual, the Duke of Normandy might be disregarded when there was no fighting to be done.
Duke Godfrey took most of his men to Edessa to help his brother. He also would be going on in the autumn, so he could not distribute land among his vassals. But he had been for so long the most respected of the great leaders that his absence from Antioch seemed to forebode anarchy.
A straight fight between Apulians and south French, with no third parties intervening, would be a level contest; Bohemond was not sure he would win it. But suddenly Fate turned against Count Raymond.
He himself had lain sick for a
very long time, and was not expected to be strong enough to take the field before autumn. During his absence the legate had become the acknowledged leader of the south French. In the latter half of July he also fell sick, and most of the leaderless south French went off in a body to plunder up the valley of the Orontes. Their self-appointed commander was a knight named Raymond Pilet, who took much booty and several strong towns. But Count Raymond was left with a very small mesnie.
About the same time the Count of Flanders and Duke Godfrey sent for their men who were in garrison in the castle. The detachments were glad to leave stinking Antioch and ride in the cool air of the Armenian mountains. The south French, fearing to be isolated among the Apulians, left at the same time without orders. Most of them went off to join Pilet, though a few stayed with their sick lord. Bohemond had the castle to himself. In return the south French closed the Bridge Gate, hoping to blockade the upper town. But Tancred still controlled St. George’s Gate and could communicate with St. Simeon.
On the 1st of August the legate died. He was buried by the Patriarch in the cathedral. Bohemond ventured down from his castle, with a strong escort, to attend the funeral, though there were many south French among the crowd. The Requiem was sung in Latin and the eulogy was spoken in French, in spite of the fact that the Patriarch knew not one word of either tongue. It was a very good eulogy, which had the whole congregation in tears. Bohemond was so moved that at the end, when they were closing the grave under the floor of the cathedral, he spoke out.
“Mark the place well, and don’t mortar the gravestone,” he said. “Bishop Adhemar was the noblest pilgrim in the whole army, and he had vowed to visit the Holy Sepulchre. I swear in my turn, before all these witnesses, that I shall myself see his body buried in that holy spot.”
It was a very proper vow to make, greeted on all sides with murmurs of sympathy. But as Bohemond left the cathedral Tancred took him aside.
Count Bohemond Page 29
