The Lady for Ransom

by Alfred Duggan

  Even the open country was one great garden, the fields of each village joining those of the next. They were cultivated right up to their stone fences, and the drains and irrigation-channels of cut stone were clean and in good repair. The olives and vines were obviously of great age, but carefully pruned and tended. I describe what I saw less than thirty years ago, though you will not recognise the land from my description. But if you do your duty it will return to Christendom; it is a land worth fighting for.

  We rode by easy stages along a smooth paved road, carried over the smallest stream by stone culverts strong enough to bear a loaded wagon; each night we camped in stone-faced barns, where prosperous peasants awaited us with forage and provisions. No one sought payment, for we rode on the Emperor’s service.

  Once as we topped a rise my lord drew rein and looked about him. ‘See, Roger,’ he said, ‘twelve ploughs at work, and all drawn by fat oxen. The ricks stand unfenced and there are silver vessels in that chapel by the cross-roads. Peace reigns everywhere. This is a fairer land than Balliol, or any fief of the Franks. Yet the taxpaying slaves who till it never draw the sword. I shall teach them to live as free men, and one day the house of Balliol shall rival Comnenus or Ducas among the magnates of Romania.’

  He had come round to my lady’s point of view, as I knew he would sooner or later.

  After three weeks we reached the great Army of Asia. In the Theme of Charsiana, of which Caesarea is the capital, we saw traces of the Turks. Last year there had been a confused campaign, unusually incoherent because the various Turkish bands were at war with one another as well as with the Empire. A Turkish chieftain, known to the Romans as Kiss of Gold, had rebelled against his sovereign; to escape punishment he led his men westward and ravaged the Theme of Sebaste; young Manuel Comnenus marched against him, but was captured in a skirmish. Meanwhile the King of the Turks had sent an army in pursuit of the rebels; Kiss of Gold changed sides in the inconsequent manner of these barbarians, put himself under the orders of his prisoner Manuel Comnenus, and offered to fight for the Emperor. No one trusted him, and the offer was refused; so he and his men took service with the King of Egypt, who was at war with the King of the Turks. Meanwhile the other Turkish captain, seeing his prey had escaped, filled in the summer by sacking Iconium, and then, since he feared to return to his master unsuccessful, wintered in the snowbound Taurus. This leader was Afsin the Guardsman, who a few years before had sacked Amorium, hundreds of miles from the frontier in the peaceful Theme of Anatolikon. Yet the King of the Turks considered himself at peace with the Emperor, and envoys frequently passed from one court to the other. The politics of Romania is complicated and no Frank can understand them.

  In those days the Turks rode swiftly, in fear of the Romans, and their passing did little damage. These infidels are extremely avaricious, and indifferent to bloodshed; they will cut a woman to pieces to strip off her ornaments, and they strangle any captive who cannot offer ransom; but they brought no wagons, and they dared not linger to waste the fields. The town of Caesarea was little damaged, though the inhabitants were poor.

  The great Army of Asia was in itself a moving city. There were more than sixty thousand horse, lancers of the Imperial Guard, sergeants of the Themes, mesnies of great nobles, and mercenaries in Roman pay. With servants, artificers of the siege-train (there was one mighty ballista drawn by a hundred yoke of oxen), women, and the clerks of the Imperial Household, there were more than two hundred thousand mouths to be fed every day; and such was the wealth of the Empire, as yet hardly damaged by infidel raids, that food was always forthcoming in abundance.

  My lord sent forward a linguist to announce his arrival. Almost at once, for the Romans do these things very efficiently, the man returned with another band of more than five hundred Franks. These were the followers of the late Crispin; all winter they had camped, leaderless, among the Imperial Guard, and they were extremely glad to swear fealty to a competent western chief; for they had been very frightened, isolated in a strange country and dreading that every morsel they ate would send them to join the late Frankopole. They were not such decent men as my lord’s own followers, and they had allowed their horses to lose condition. But they soon settled down, and my lord smartened them up. We camped in great comfort on the left wing of the army.

  Next morning my lord rode to the Emperor’s tent to give his oath of fealty. Of course everything was done through an official linguist, but as Frankopole my lord was entitled to an escort, even in the presence of the Emperor, and he took me to make sure he was not committed to anything more than he said in French.

  We set off with great anticipations. Every Italian child is brought up on wonderful tales of the Emperor of Romania; the golden trees swaying in the breeze, the golden nightingales that sing, and the golden lions that roar, while he sits on his throne to dazzle barbarian envoys. We were disappointed to find none of these things. The Emperor wore a magnificent crown and his embroidered robes gleamed in the lamplight; but he sat on a wooden chair, and his tent was no better than some I have seen in Sicily. My lord suspected the Romans might be tricking him into swearing fealty to some subordinate. He whispered to the linguist: ‘Where are the golden lions?’

  The clerk answered quite naturally, speaking at his ease, though the Emperor awaited us. ‘Do those tales linger in the west? To see the lions and nightingales you should have come a century ago. In those times the Equal of the Apostles sat in his city, and the barbarians who gazed on his majesty withdrew peaceful and abashed. But this fallen world grows worse every year. Nowadays we choose as Autocrator the bravest soldier we can find, and in the field he lives as a warrior. Golden lions would not frighten the Turks. In fact when you have made your prostration and given your barbarian oath you will be permitted to seat yourself, in the Imperial presence, while we discuss the campaign.’

  So it was. After we had touched the ground with our foreheads, in the Roman manner of saluting the Emperor, a priest brought forward a very holy picture, Our Lady of Blachernae; Messer Roussel gave oath on it, and the Emperor rose from his throne while my lord did fealty, putting his joined hands within the Imperial grasp. Then a table and stools were brought in, and half a dozen of the chief commanders sat with the Emperor. I stood behind my lord, though the official linguist translated.

  To a stranger all these Roman officers look very much alike. They wear their hair and beards long, they are darker than Franks, and a common system of education and a common code of manners have given them a common cast of expression. The Emperor and his chief captains might have been cousins. Then I recalled that the Emperor was a noble like the rest of them. It brought home to me the weakness of his position; if the Empress Eudocia had chosen to marry another lord Romanus Diogenes would have been wearing one of those nodding gauze mitres and Bryennius or Palaeologus the pearls of the Imperial diadem.

  The Emperor took pains to set us at ease, though of course the company waited for him to open the council. ‘Gentlemen,’ he began, while linguists whispered into the ears of the barbarian mercenaries, ‘we are here to decide on measures to end these everlasting Turkish raids. Even Romania cannot keep sixty thousand horse in the field year after year without great oppression of the tax-payers, whose welfare is dear to our heart.’ (Some captains looked a little sour at this excellent sentiment.) ‘We must force the Turks to fight before autumn. Do you all agree?’

  Bryennius interposed. ‘Your majesty, the Turks will not meet this army. The ruler has no wish to fight us; the foe he hates is the King of Egypt. Can’t we frighten him into sealing a treaty?’

  The Emperor answered politely, as though to an equal. ‘We have an excellent treaty at this moment; it defines our boundary, and the King of the Turks has ordered his followers to respect it. They keep the treaty as well as plundering nomads ever observe such an agreement. But every Turk who doesn’t like him flees over our border, and he seems to be faced with constant rebellion. Kiss of Gold was a rebel, who thought the more damage he did t
he more eager would we be to pay him to fight on our side. He was disappointed, and I wish we could have hanged him; but young Comnenus got himself captured and I had to observe the terms which set him free. Other rebels will take the same road; at this moment Afsin the Guardsman is quartered in the barren Taurus, technically on our side of the frontier. We must frighten all the. Turks, not merely their King. Joseph, you are a Turk. Do you think your cousins would meet us if we marched into Armenia and laid siege to Chliat?’

  A Roman noble, just like the other Roman nobles, bobbed his head and replied. He was the famous Tarchaniotes, a Turk of good family who had been genuinely converted to the True Faith; he had served the Empire for many years, and he answered in fluent Greek.

  ‘Your majesty, the Turks will be very reluctant to stand. Alp Arsian, their King, is now bickering with the Egyptian garrisons of Syria. But if you menace Chliat he must fight, for the Caliph has appointed him Sultan and protector of all the cities which acknowledge Baghdad. It is a sound plan. He must meet you.’

  ‘For Heaven’s sake, Romanus, if you intend to besiege Chliat, go there. Don’t lead the army by forced marches all over Cilicia, turning aside at every rumour of Turkish raids, as you did last summer.’

  I was astonished at such bold speech, for my mother had told me that the Emperor of Romania was obeyed in silence. But, like her stories of golden lions and nightingales, this information was out of date. When the Emperor replied I understood.

  ‘Andronicus,’ he said, ‘it is just because that campaign wasn’t good enough that I wish to fight a battle.’

  So this sneering young man was Andronicus Ducas, cousin of the co-Emperor Michael, the magnate who was too powerful to be left at home. Well, at least he was eager for battle; though he must have great power if he dared to speak so to his Emperor.

  Alyattes, Strategus of Cappadocia, raised a tactical objection. ‘Your majesty, you can’t lay siege to Chliat until you have taken Manzikert. The Turks may not fight there, but its walls are strong, and you may be held up most of the summer. You can’t campaign among the mountains after the first snowfall; so this year will be wasted and next year we must reduce the army. The citizens cannot pay such a great host for more than one season.’

  The Emperor was annoyed by this second objection. ‘My intention is to march on Chliat,’ he said firmly. ‘But this army is strong enough to invest two little hilltowns at once. Manzikert lies on what will be our main line of supply, and we are too numerous to live off the country. But while we batter its walls we can send forward a detachment to blockade Chliat. When Manzikert falls we will bring up the siege-train, and Chliat will already be hungry. We shall capture both towns, and beat the Turks in open battle, all in this summer. We should be on our way home by Michaelmas. Any more questions?’

  Young Ducas muttered: ‘There he goes, just like last year! The Empire sweats blood to gather this great army, and then he divides it in the presence of the enemy!’ The Emperor pretended not to hear, while the other Romans fidgeted uncomfortably. Of course the linguists did not translate this criticism, so my lord was unaware of the passing awkwardness. He spoke up, with that tiresome itch to make a point of his own which afflicts every member of a council of war:

  ‘I don’t know Armenia, but you talk of mountains. I must make it clear that my Franks are heavy cavalry, who need level ground for their charge. If I order it they will dismount to hold a wall, though that is not how they fight best. But they cannot scramble up hills on foot.’

  ‘That will not arise, lord Frankopole’ said Bryennius before the Emperor could answer. ‘You never see a Turk without his shaggy pony. The story goes that their women ride also, and that when they make love the ponies trot side by side, while the riders do in the saddle everything that Christians do in bed. That may be an exaggeration, but you won’t find Turks offering battle on foot.’

  Someone laughed; there is nothing like a smutty remark to end a conference on a note of good humour. Nobody had more to say, and the captains took leave of the Emperor.

  That evening my lord talked things over with his knights. Everyone was pleased; the Emperor seemed to be a friendly warrior, instead of the unapproachable despot whom we had expected; and the plan of campaign was of the kind that appeals to every knight. We had heard so much about the scientific methods of Roman warfare that we had feared a boring summer of complicated counter-marching; but we were to invade the enemy’s land, and challenge him to stop us, that is the Frankish way of waging war.

  In a few days the great army marched north-east, up the valley of the upper Halys. We left behind the rich and peaceful lands of western Asia; the districts we passed through have been on the frontier since Mahound brought his devils out of the desert. There were no more prosperous farms in the valleys, no more wayside churches full of silver candlesticks; the land was ploughed, but the peasants lived on the hilltops. But a land of war is a land of warriors; the local barons brought their followers to the army at their own expense, as western knights serve for their fiefs. We Franks thought to ourselves that men who fight for hatred of the infidel, taking no pay for what is after all the elementary duty of every able-bodied Christian, must be more formidable than hired sergeants. But the Romans prefer drilled hirelings, who obey the trumpet from long practice on the parade-ground; they held it against these volunteers that they could not keep in line at full gallop, or change direction together. They were placed in the second division of the army, under young Andronicus Ducas. The drilled regulars formed the first division, under the immediate command of the Emperor.

  Of course neither we nor the Turkish mercenaries were in either division. Joseph Tarchaniotes and Messer Roussel would obey any reasonable instructions that came from the Emperor himself; but neither Frankish knights nor Turkish light horse would carry out the orders of a young gentleman who thought that because someone had given him an officer’s mace instead of a sergeant’s bow he belonged to a different and superior branch of the human race. To prevent friction the mercenaries marched on the flank of the army.

  We did not camp with the Turks, whose manners make it impossible for civilised men to associate with them. But we rode beside them on the march, and I spoke with the few who knew a little Greek. It was rather pleasant to talk to people who spoke worse Greek than I did. I had been puzzled that the Romans should take such a large contingent of mercenaries to fight against their own cousins; but I discovered they were not the same kind of Turk as our foes. The Romans call anyone a Turk who lives in the saddle and fights with a short horseman’s bow; but such people dwell in all the lands of Magog that lie to the north and east of Christendom; they speak more or less the same language, and have the same customs; but they do not all serve the same lord. Our foes were called the Children of Seljuk; only a generation ago they had suddenly appeared over the unknown eastern rim of the world. Our mercenaries were Cumans from north of the Black Sea; for centuries they had traded with Romania, and they had some idea of civilisation. At home they were idolaters, but the Romans encouraged them to undergo baptism, since Our Lady of Blachernae could not be expected to aid a heathen army. They should have been very good Christians, for it is their custom to be baptised every time they re-enlist; the priests then give them the white robes of innocence, and they regard this as a valuable livery which it would be a pity to forgo just because they have received it already; some of them have been christened eight or ten times, but in a tight place they still call on the North Wind.

  Their leader, Joseph Tarchaniotes, was a genuine convert, who had lived many years in the Empire without revisiting his home. I was told he could never go back, for he had shot his own grandfather out hunting and his family would impale him if he fell into their hands. Turks are never convinced by a hunting accident, especially if it is the heir who removes the owner of numerous flocks. All the same, Joseph was an honourable knight; perhaps his grandfather really did look like a deer.

  In the Theme of Colonea we left the headwaters of the Hal
ys and marched due east by the southern branch of the upper Euphrates; all this land is so mountainous that our heavy train must keep to some valley. Here is the Theme of Mesopotamia, and to the east lie the principalities of Armenia, which used to pay tribute to the Empire and now pay tribute to the Turks. The Armenians are Christian, and we expected them to join us. But though they always tell you proudly that Armenia was the first kingdom to become Christian, a few years before Constantine saw in the sky the Cross in whose name he would conquer, they have fallen into heresy; I don’t know exactly their error, or whether they have more than one; but both Pope and Patriarch are against it. The Emperor, therefore, has rightly forbidden these heretical practices within his dominions. But infidels take tribute from all who do not follow their false prophet and then allow them to worship God or the Devil, whichever they prefer; and this tribute is no more than the Emperor’s taxes; so the Armenians would rather submit to the Turks, who do not close their churches, than obey the laws of the Empire. They did not join our army, and where they were strong enough they closed their gates against us.

  We gathered a few recruits, for a minority among the Armenians follow the True Faith and look to the Emperor to protect them from persecution by their fellow-countrymen; but we had to leave large detachments guarding our line of supply, and on balance the army was weakened. In particular we could not scout the steep mountainsides; our whole army was mounted, and the Emperor had planned to raise local foot to picket the heights. In the latter part of our advance we marched blind, for our horse could only investigate the valleys and a hostile army might be just over the next ridge.

  All these matters were discussed at frequent councils of war. It is a Roman custom to hold such councils, and the Emperor listened patiently to his senior officers; he had to keep the army contented, for if the soldiers rebelled he would get no help from his supporters in the city, hundreds of miles away.