One of his aides drew their attention and then waited as they settled nearby to hear their commander's words.
"That dust cloud some of you noticed to the east is coming toward us from the general direction of Nixtar. We are already hard pressed, and reinforcements to the Turkish ranks will not do us any good. We have been deputed to break out of here somehow and do some scouting to the north and also look for more water."
A chorus of voices demanding to be part of the scouting party nearly deafened Elisabeth, who happened to be nearer the commander than most. Her own voice was part of the din.
"I will take fifty knights. Go round up your men, including shield men, and let their officers know we are in for some rough riding. That should make . . . " He leaned to his aide and asked the man a question. He relayed the answer. "That should give us about seven hundred men and at least fifty shields in addition to the knights. We could go faster and retreat sooner with fewer, but it's likely we will have to do some fighting." His lips curled up at the edges at the enthusiastic cheer his men returned at this news. Nodding, he turned to ride to the command center for more instructions.
They waited until dusk fell and the Turks who harried them thinned out and melted away. The company of men slipped out through the main gate and rode or walked away from the relative safety of the walled town.
Conrad led them east by northeast toward the first range of hills between the plain and the sea. It seemed they were first to investigate the guides' report of a year-round spring at the base of one hill that showed promise, its foot treed like an oasis in the desert and the hillside lushly green in spite of the heat. Their path intersected with a dark, muddy and narrow river, which they continued to follow toward the base of the hills.
Once out of the walls of the town where they had camped, they no longer were alone. They nervously eyed the line of Turkish horsemen that appeared to be some sort of escort for all they made no effort to attack.
When ahead they could see a town's walls, Conrad shouted to hasten their pace and head for it.
Perhaps it was their haste to make the town but no one saw the thin line of horsemen riding toward them from three directions. Depending on where you rode in Conrad's party, you could or could not tell that each of the three was a long, long line of men, only coalescing into ranks as they neared the pilgrim procession.
"Oh dear God," Conrad exclaimed. He searched the nearing hillside. "There, a village. Make for it!"
On their lighter, faster horses, the Turks, again in their thousands, caught up with the men in the rear just before the full complement of infantry could get inside the village. As the knights rode in through the gate of the town, the residents were fleeing with everything they could snatch to run out the postern gate into the gullies and hills.
The Turkish horsemen fell on the pilgrim stragglers and with both arrows and slashing swords made short work of them. They tore toward the village gates but checked when they saw the thick rows of crossbowmen stationed there. The Turks peeled off and rode back to a short distance and stopped to look back at the village.
Panting, Elisabeth quickly turned Gauner to face whatever assault was coming, only to see the backs of the Turks who had pursued them. She shot looks in every direction, only able to see through the walls of the village where no building blocked her view. What she could see told her little. Tensely she waited, then she finally unbuckled the helm strap under her chin and looked about, letting a slight breeze dry her sweat-soaked hair. The village was a tiny one. The pilgrims filled, it seemed, every inch of ground between the buildings. They were trapped and they knew it.
Almost unable to move in the press, she finally saw some effort going on to organize the men and horses. She was surprised to see several young boys involved and realized they must be from the village. The young boys of any town, no matter where in the world and under what circumstances, will come out of thin air to make a coin or two. She shook her head at the very dependability of it.
Dismounting, she whistled to one of the boys. His head spun around and he dashed toward her. As he approached he slowed to a stop and stood looking at her, puzzled. The silver coin she held up before him cleared whatever mystery had halted him.
Elisabeth gestured to her horse. She mimed tying Gauner up and getting him water and grain. Then she held the coin up again and with her other hand put forth two fingers. The universal language of trade did the trick. The boy smiled, his teeth impossibly straight and white, and snatching the coin from her hand took Gauner's reins and led him to a hitching post. He took one puzzled glance over his shoulder. Seeing his look, she wondered what the boy had seen that no one else seemed to? She found herself checking her clothing and reaching up to her shorn hair looking for the telltale evidence of her womanhood.
She went in search of her friends. She found the mercenaries standing with Albrecht in the shade of a hut. "The knights?" she asked her squire.
Albrecht made his short bow. "I have not seen Alain, my lord, but the other two are over there."
She followed his pointing finger to where Black Beast and Gerhardt were using the shade from their own horses' bodies to stretch out. "They look like they are camped for the night," she observed.
"Probably smart," Ranulf replied. "Who knows when and if we will get to sleep again, and we can certainly use it."
She was surprised to see a sort of resignation on his face. At first she assumed he dreaded assault, but something in his mournful eyes disclosed to her that he expected far worse. It was not the first time Elisabeth had realized that any or all of them might be killed on this journey. But it struck her hard and suddenly now. She had a vision of Maliha's tear-stained face at their parting. She had to shove down a sob that threatened to erupt.
Ranulf seemed to sense her distress and slapped her on the shoulder. He spoke no words to reassure her.
She cast about for a reason to walk rapidly away. To her relief she saw Conrad's aide coming toward them. "The Constable wants to see you all," he said to Elisabeth and her four companions.
It was not difficult to find the commander, though it was more than difficult to make their way to him through the press. Elisabeth saw him just yards away and saw him look up and catch her eye. They continued, gazes locked, until they finally closed the distance between them. Conrad acknowledged the small group and gestured for them to step to the door of one of the mud huts.
Inside he came right to the point. "If we can't get out of here, we are all dead. Whether their sheer multitudes allow them to break through or they keep us here until we die of hunger, thirst or heat, we are done for. I don't relish that prospect. Friedrich has a plan, and I want you five to carry it out." He stepped aside so that one of the infantry officers could come forward.
They had not seen the man in the hut until Conrad mentioned him. He was an older man, much battle scarred and dour. They knew him, an able man who had a good hand with the troops. They listened as he explained.
"Our best hope is to get word to Saint Gilles and the other commanders that we are trapped here. With the heathens all about us we cannot simply break out. A small force could sneak out. They would have to slip out in the dark and separate, so that at least one might get through." He grimaced. "You will have to listen for the others' cries to know where the path is the safest."
Ranulf laughed shortly. "By guessing where the others have met their deaths and where no one is dead . . . yet?"
Conrad and Friedrich answered with grim faces.
Albrecht spoke up. "My lord, I will go, but I do not think you need to sacrifice Elias or the mercenaries. Their skills are too well utilized elsewhere. Cannot I take a small force of the infantry, maybe an archer, to make it out and to the larger village?"
Elisabeth started to protest but bit her tongue. What Albrecht said made sense. She glanced at Ranulf, who was looking at Thomas, who had held his crossbow up to show he was an archer. Ranulf's look was resigned.
Conrad looked at Friedrich with one e
yebrow lifted. "That sounds sensible to me. Can you select some of your men who are light of foot and see well in the dark?" Receiving the officer's nod, he turned back to the five companions. "All right, you, squire, and the crossbowman, go with Friedrich. But the rest of you stand by. We may need to send a second party."
Outside the hut Ragnar walked up to Ranulf, fuming. "You are just going to let Thomas walk out of here to his death?" he demanded.
Ranulf put his hands on his hips and glared back at the Dane. "Can you think of anyone better than Thomas to fill the need?"
Thomas put a hand on Ragnar's shoulder and shook his head. The Dane stared into his eyes, then turned and stormed away.
Elisabeth hardly noticed the exchange, so focused was she on Albrecht. "That was very brave and admirable of you." Her voice held a tinge of sarcasm.
Albrecht stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. "You would do the same, if I hadn't beaten you to it."
Her jaw tight, she tried to come up with an answer to this. Her eyes blazed at him. "I . . . I . . . ," she stammered.
"You know I am right."
With a deep sigh, Elisabeth let her shoulders drop. She tried to speak so no one would overhear. "I can't lose you, Albrecht."
Albrecht's lips twitched. He pressed them hard together. He nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You will be all right. Now I have to go." He looked to where Thomas walked away with Friedrich and hurried toward them.
Elisabeth looked over at the setting sun. She could not see anything but its glow as unwanted tears obscured her vision.
Chapter Fifteen ~ Overwhelming Odds
Elisabeth did not see Albrecht or Thomas again that night. The two, along with four foot soldiers, slipped out of a hole in the wall made by simply kicking out the sticks that bolstered the hardened mud. They found some black garments on a drying line between the houses and tore them into wide strips, wound and tied them around their helms, swords, and wherever their mail or other armor might reflect the thin light of the moon or an enemy campfire.
Sleepless, Elisabeth and Ranulf heard the first cry. They glanced at each other, anxiety written all over their faces. She made the sign of the cross as Ranulf jumped to his feet and ran off in the direction of the main gate.
She stood and walked more slowly in the same direction. She felt chilled all over. Her knees and elbows seemed stiff and uncooperative. Ranulf and Ragnar met her coming back when she was no more than halfway there.
"We don't know," Ranulf anticipated her questions.
It was then that the sound of hoof beats and shouts reached them from down the hillside. "I can't bear it!" Elisabeth cried, holding her head with both hands and gritting her teeth. Ranulf put his arm around her shoulders and he and Ragnar returned to where they had been sitting just minutes before.
They continued to hear sounds of rallying from the Turkish camp. First shouts, then horses' hoof beats, then more shouts and the sound of frenetic activity.
Ragnar asked, "Getting ready to attack us or to chase the men?"
Just then a shout in German came from within their own camp. It was the call to positions, and the three grabbed cloaks and helms and ran to their stations. Hundreds of men gathered in ranks as best they could in the cramped spaces between the houses and waited.
For such a company, the quiet was eerie. All strained to listen to what the Turks were engaged in. In a very short while it was clear that they were going away from, not toward, the village. Wide eyes looked out from each side of the nosepieces of their helms as they glanced at each other, fearing to believe, to hope.
The hubbub began to grow as the outside sounds grew more distant. It was still hours to dawn when the command came at last to stand down. Few slept, waiting for what the morning would bring.
Black Beast and Gerhardt found Elisabeth with the two mercenaries. Ragnar and the Beast bared their teeth at each other, but Ranulf only glowered. Looking about, Gerhardt was the one to ask, "Where's your squire?"
Elisabeth indicated the south with her head. "Out there." She did not have to explain what she meant. They knew instantly that she meant he was part of the mission to get help.
"Alone?" queried the Beast.
Ranulf answered him. "No, our crossbow--en went with him and there were four infantry on the mission as well. Friedrich's men."
The Beast's inquiring face looked blank.
Gerhardt supplied, "The officer from Conrad's own infantry squad."
"Uh," the big dark, bearded man grunted.
Elisabeth and Ranulf suddenly found themselves summoned to Conrad's billet. There they found the commander and Friedrich questioning one of the foot soldiers who had gone out with the party. He was telling his story.
"There seemed to be few campfires but we were not inclined to be overconfident. It was possible the Turks guessed what the pilgrims might try and had made the way difficult. Your squire," he nodded to Elisabeth, "split us up three different ways. It was hard going, the ground uneven and stones strewn everywhere, but mostly I tried to hear what was happening to the other men. You know that the hill was steep and the way treacherous with rocks, roots and unexpected holes. I thought I heard either Albrecht or Thomas make a misstep but right himself. I couldn't have seen them in the dark anyway, but I kept my eye on campfires I could see on the plain just past the foot of the hill.
"Then all hell broke loose. I guess we tripped a picket, because I heard my mate scuffle with someone and then scream. I knew I was done for, so I veered off and ran like a rabbit away from that place. I meant to find my other fellows, but instead I found myself faced with Albrecht and the crossbowman. They looked like they had seen a ghost. I shouted my name to them, and they waved me to follow where they were going. When we reached the bank of the river, we stopped.
"Albrecht said we had to find horses. I started to look for where the Turks had tied theirs, when that fellow, Thomas. He made a sign to wait, and took off. The squire and me, we crouched down low to see what would happen. All at once we heard a shout, followed by many more men shouting, and heard a horse coming toward us at a gallop. Albrecht said, 'I wish he would talk so we could know for sure it's him.' I didn't know what he meant. The man on the horse reached down with his arm and Albrecht grasped it as it came near him and swung himself up on the horse's back behind the man. I couldn't keep up and besides where would I sit? So I just ran off and hid. And now I'm here."
Ranulf asked, "Then they got away?"
"I am not sure," the man answered. "I got down out of sight just as a pack of archers rode by, firing in the direction our two men had ridden. They could be away or they could be lying in the dirt like my mate was." He looked miserably down at the cup of water he held.
The mercenary captain said as he and Elisabeth left the hut, "I guess we just wait and see."
She nodded numbly.
The remainder of the night seemed to last several days. Of the majority who stayed awake was the Constable himself. At first light he sent scouts out to assess the situation and, if possible, to bring water from the river. These men came back without the water but talking excitedly all at once.
The Turks were gone from around the village. The scouts had surprised some villagers who were searching their hastily abandoned campsites. They scampered away when they were discovered, leaving the bodies of three men lying where it was obvious many men had camped. The fires were covered with sand and dirt, but the signs of men and horses milling about showed in trampled grass and churned-up earth. The three bodies were lying twisted and had been mutilated. One of the men may have lived long enough to be tortured, though no one had heard the sounds that the treatment should have made. The corpses were fetched into the village.
Ragnar came back from forcing his way in to the crowd about the bodies. "It's not them. I know Thomas's clothing and no one is Albrecht's coloring."
"Could you not tell from their faces who they were?" Elisabeth demanded.
Ragnar fixed her with an angry stare. "What
faces?" was his reply.
Conrad allowed his men to hoist the three bodies onto a horse, but then commanded the party of remaining knights, shield men and infantry to head out of the village to return to the main camp. While the men got ready to leave, a couple dozen were sent to the river to fill the water skins brought back empty by the first party.
As they rode and walked down the hill Elisabeth looked for any sign of Albrecht. She was shocked to see a pile of bodies some way downwind of where the Turks' main camp had been. They were burning, a collective funeral pyre, and she could tell that the pile had been burning for some time. The occasional breeze sent the choking smell in the direction of the crusaders, and Elisabeth could not bring herself to ride closer to see if Albrecht or Thomas could be found. She pulled her gaze away and caught Ranulf's eye. "Our dead from last night? When we first got here?"
He shrugged.
The quick pace Conrad set kept the mass of men awake and alert where their exhaustion and foreboding might have dulled them into torpor. The sound of battle began to waft to them in bits and pieces, and soon they could see the mass of Turkish horsemen this side of the pilgrim camp.
"Danishmend archers," someone shouted. The horsemen were riding away from Conrad's company and veering away from the walls of the town after loosing the customary hundreds of arrows and riding away. It felt strange to watch it all from a distance, behind the attackers.
Elisabeth looked to where Conrad had paused and was watching the onslaught. From beside her she heard Black Beast's voice moan, "The fools. They came out of the walls!"
Indeed, Elisabeth could just see that the crusaders were no longer inside the town. They were lined up in formation around a little stony hill about a mile around meeting the waves of archers as they rode up, loosed arrows, and rode away. They were in the familiar shield walls, but stationary, in a far more familiar formation to Europeans. She peered through the eyeholes of her helm for the banners she would recognize among the pilgrims. There was Toulouse's red banner with its stylized gold cross, Stephen of Burgundy's bars on red, Odo's eagle, Blois's silver and gold bars on blue, and the others.
Beloved Pilgrim Page 26
