Horses hate the smell of blood, but chargers are trained to face it. I led Whitefoot wide of the sinister heap, and when I mounted he galloped with a will. Further on was a line of Turkish pickets; three suddenly loomed ahead of me, but before I could couch my lance Whitefoot knocked over one little pony, then reared on his hind-legs and struck out at another; the smell of blood was all around, and he was maddened by it. The second Turk went down in a heap, and the third fled. My horse wanted to stay and savage the fallen bodies, but I got him on the move, and as we turned another bend I saw before me a line of watchfires. I pulled up where the firelight would glint on my Frankish mail, and shouted ‘Agiostavro’, Holy Cross – which had been the Roman watchword when we left the army. Six troopers, their arrows on the bowstring, led me to the Roman camp.
5. The Great Battle
I was taken straight to the Emperor’s tent, without any refreshment. Romans habitually go to bed much later than Franks, and they have a stringent rule that a commander must be interrupted, no matter what he is doing, when a messenger arrives. The tent was crowded with senior officers, while at the far end a choir intoned passages from the Holy Scriptures in one of those interminable all-night services which the eastern church regard as the most acceptable form of intercession; these easterners say Mass in the morning, of course, but for anything special they begin at vespers and continue to daybreak.
The laymen were standing or kneeling, following the service in little books; for you must remember that all well-born Romans read with ease. My arrival caused a sensation. The priests continued to chant, but the Emperor at once heard my message, without interrupting. That is an excellent Roman custom; they never hector a messenger or break into his tale with questions; they wait until he has quite finished before saying a word.
Then the Emperor spoke: ‘I don’t understand. I sent six couriers to the Frankopole, and none of them could get through. Yet a single horseman rides here without difficulty.’
‘My lord,’ I answered, ‘there were certain difficulties, though since they were not part of the message I did not relate them. But I took two days to cover fifteen miles, and only good luck brought me here. May I tell the whole story to one of your officers?’
‘The lord Bryennius will hear your adventures presently. Wait first while we talk over this news. The Frankopole is right to abandon the blockade of Chliat, since he is himself blockaded. But why retire to the north-west? If he fell back the way he had come the whole army would be united.’
I answered hotly: ‘We thought that if the army was still in these parts your majesty would join us before Chliat. That was the plan. My comrades are only fifteen miles away, and they will not start before Friday. It is now Wednesday night. You may still join them. Surely the great Army of Asia can march where it wills?’
‘That’s what we thought, last week. I’m afraid it isn’t true any more. Yesterday Basiliakes lost the band of Theodosiopolis, trying to march where he would. I expect you passed their bodies. But we shall fight our battle in a day or two, though only God knows how it will turn out.’
The clergy were continuing their intercession at the far end of the tent, and as the Emperor ceased speaking the lector came to a fortissimo passage. ‘Whosoever killeth you will think he doeth God service,’ he chanted in a thunderous bass. Some officers winced at such an appalling omen.
Then the lord Bryennius took me to his quarters, where I might disarm and eat. Two mighty armies were encamped within an hour’s ride, but so far we had no orders to draw out in line of battle, and he advised me to sleep on what must be the last day before the collision.
I did not wake until afternoon. The whole army was fussing over horses and weapons with the bad-tempered restlessness which warriors display at the approach of a desperate action. I lay on a pile of cushions until Bryennius entered.
The lord Nicephorus Bryennius commanded the whole European wing of the army. But he was a courteous gentleman, and he might take liberties with a Frankish mercenary which would have been unseemly with soldiers under his command. He invited me to share his meal, and talked freely.
Naturally I inquired what had happened while I slept.
‘Nothing much,’ he replied kindly, ‘and none of it good. Before dawn Tamin the deputy-Turkopole led his men to the Sultan’s camp. That was to be expected, and since such scoundrels will not be trusted by the other side it’s no great loss. But they were the last of our light horse; if the Sultan retires we shall never find him again. Oh, and this morning we very nearly made a treaty; but in the end we didn’t.’
‘What’s that, my lord?’ I said in alarm. ‘I thought last night that the council were losing heart. But surely the Emperor of Romania did not sue for peace?’
‘Good heavens, young man, I believe you are frightened. In strict confidence, so am I. But I never thought a Frankish knight knew enough to recognise a tight place when he was in it. Of course the Emperor did not sue for peace; Andronicus Ducas would have his eyes if he weakened. No, the Sultan is as nervous as we are, now that a hundred thousand horse are met to dispute the lordship of Asia. There was in the barbarian camp a holy man of the infidels, an envoy from their Caliph, and this morning the Sultan sent him to us; he offered peaceful possession of Manzikert and Chliat, and the old frontier of Christendom, if we would make a firm peace.’
‘Well, isn’t that what we want? Why did the Emperor refuse?’
‘It was tempting, certainly. But the council would have none of it, and they may be right. In the first place, a treaty with the Sultan won’t stop these plundering raids; he would say rebels made war against his will. We must frighten the common barbarians if the eastern Themes are to reap their harvests unburned. And though at this minute our army would be very glad to go home, as soon as they felt safe they would complain of the Emperor’s cowardice. Michael Ducas will be sixteen next winter, and Romanus will be overthrown unless he wins renown in this campaign.’
‘But won’t he gain renown by forcing the Turks to sue for peace? The Sultan will be dishonoured if he yields two strong cities without a battle.’
‘Such a treaty would be a moral victory, as I pointed out. But the Emperor wants more. He said the terms were satisfactory in themselves, but that he must show the world that Alp Arslan sought mercy and the Romans granted it. If the Sultan retired from the camp he now occupies, and allowed us to encamp there, that would be a symbolic triumph, apparent to all Asia. Unfortunately the Sultan also must think of his good name, if he wishes to remain King of the Turks. On that little point negotiations broke down, after we had agreed on a frontier and everything else. So the Caliph’s envoy left in a huff, and we fight tomorrow. Pity they chose a Friday. It’s the holy day of the infidels, and the Devil may grant them more aid than on other days of the week.’
‘So we fight without the Frankopole. Couldn’t the Emperor retire north-west to link up with my lord? Then the horses would have a good feed before the battle.’
‘No, Roger. Your comrades charge gallantly, but eight hundred Franks will not win or lose an encounter of myriads. We must fight at once if we fight at all. So far east the Sultan can gather reinforcements quicker than we can. There are two things in our favour. Since our light horse deserted we know that every Turk is an enemy; and since the Sultan made such a point of protecting his camp we have something to aim at, without chasing those little ponies half-way to India. Now I must rest. Of course you want to charge in the great battle. You may ride with the escort of my standard.’
On the Friday within the Octave of the Assumption, the 19th of August 1071, the great army of Romania was still sixty thousand strong, though all the Turkish mercenaries had deserted. But not more than half the men were drilled soldiers, and the balance was made up of eastern nobles and their mesnies, who could not keep station when formed in large bodies. It took several hours to array the line of battle, which is very exhausting to men made nervous and excited by approaching danger. But the final effect was tremendously imposing
.
In the centre rode the Emperor Romanus Diogenes under the holy battle-flag, the Labarum which appeared to Constantine the Great as he marched to make Rome Christian. He kept full state, as though for a review; his charger was buried under a purple housing, and the only foot in the entire army were the sergeants who bore aloft the two ceremonial Swords of State; these are carried on either side of the Emperor, and of him alone, when the Equal of the Apostles takes the field. The Schools, and the garrisons of Bucellarion, Optimaton, and Opsikion, who are household troops of lesser rank, made up twelve thousand armoured lancers; they formed the centre of the front line, the immediate command of the Emperor. On the right Alyattes, Strategus of Cappadocia, led the Themes of Asia, another ten thousand men, trained sergeants who would obey the trumpet; they were armed with bows, but they wore strong corselets and heavy sabres; they could skirmish with the Turks on level terms, and crush them at close quarters. My lord Nicephorus Bryennius, Strategus of Hellas, led the Themes of Europe on the left wing; for in the Roman army Asia always takes the right of the line. The Europeans were also armoured bowmen, eight thousand strong, in everything except precedence equal to the men of Alyattes. They were ranged in eight ranks, and the whole line of thirty thousand horse stretched for three miles.
For centuries the Romans have fought mounted nomads; it is a cardinal rule of their tactics that there must always be a second line, to baffle the usual barbarian method of encirclement. This second line, thirty thousand men and more, was made up of nobles and their mesnies under Andronicus Ducas. Their duty was to keep station two bowshots from the front line, so that if the Turks got in our rear they would encounter the arrow of both lines; our formation was practically a square, though the sides were arrows, not men. But the little mesnies had not been drilled as large units, and Andronicus was their only commander, with no subordinates. Since his line was also three miles long he would not find it easy to control them; but his only duty was to keep station, conforming to the movements of the great battle-flag which all could see. In fact, as my lord Bryennius remarked, the Emperor had cunningly given the young cub a splendid command, but no chance of winning renown in the battle.
It was mid-morning when the holy image of Our Lady of Blachernae had finished her progress down the line and we were ready to move off. We could see Turkish pickets at the bend of the valley, but the enemy had not shown himself in force. The Emperor advanced at a stately walk, and we walked also, a mile to his left; though we sometimes had to trot or halt for a few minutes, since even drilled troops cannot keep their dressing in such a long line without altering pace. We arrived at the bend in perfect order, without loosing or receiving an arrow.
Even here this great valley was wide enough to hold our line, but we had to change direction and that took time. We Europeans broke into a gentle trot, while the right of the Asiatics halted. It was not an easy movement, though for me personally it was a relief, since Whitefoot did not understand this business of marching to battle at a slow walk. He had been fighting his bit in a manner very tiring to both of us; now I could let him out, and he quietened down.
As we looked up the new reach of the valley the Sultan’s camp should have been in plain view. But there was nothing but Turks; they stretched as far as the eye could see, though it was difficult to estimate their numbers as they surged to and fro. To look at they were more ugly than imposing, for their only mail is of greasy leather; most of them fight in loose woollen wrappings. The day was very hot, and our own army smelled, but the reek of that Turkish host took me by the throat. On their heads were tall fur caps, and they rode hunched in the saddle, their knees under their chins; they brandished short bows, which might have been little sticks; they carry swords somewhere in the tangle of woollen cloaks, but they do not draw them until they charge. They looked like a crowd of camp-followers, who would not for a moment dispute the field with the mailed lancers of Romania.
When they saw us preparing to charge this gang of ruffians gave a most imposing yell of defiance; these savages also make use of a novel instrument to hearten them in the field. On the march they carry metal cooking-pots; in battle the mouth of each pot is covered with tight-stretched sheepskin; the cook puts it on his saddle and beats on it with padded sticks, until it makes a thundering, thudding roar which sets the blood pulsing. Everywhere in the Turkish throng we heard the hollow thunder of these ‘kettledrums’ (as they are called), as though all the innumerable ponies of the plains of Magog were bearing down for the ravaging of Christendom. Whitefoot flinched at the sound, and I confess my heart fluttered. But the Romans had heard it before, and it left them unmoved.
Our high-pitched trumpets cut through the din, calling us to halt. Of course, we meant to get to close quarters, but I suppose the Emperor hoped that if these barbarians saw us apparently falter they might charge themselves. But in spite of the noise they made, and the aimless way their little ponies scurried about, the Turks were under the control of their leaders. Both sides remained halted, two hundred yards apart, each waiting for the other to move. It was the greatest battle of this age, and the fate of all Asia hung on it; both Emperor and Sultan were overawed by their appalling responsibility.
I had of course worked my way to the front rank of the colour-guard, under the battle-flag of Europe; now Bryennius shouted above the clamour, ordering me to fall back. ‘Bows to the front young Roger,’ he called. ‘You may ride beside the standard-bearer. I appoint you his sword-arm, to defend the flag with your life.’
Among Franks I would have been compelled, for honour’s sake, to disobey an order which took me to the rear just before the charge. But I was surrounded by professional soldiers, who always took post in the rear rank if they had any choice in the matter, and they would not understand the noble impulse which underlies western insubordination. Besides, the place he offered me was in fact very honourable.
Then all down the line our trumpets squealed for the Charge.
Roman bands are perpetually drilled to advance or retire in one line, and the Schools in the centre delayed until the order reached the wings. Three miles of horsemen cantered forward together. The Turks remained halted, and a hope flashed through my mind that the Sultan had lost his head and forgotten to give orders. If they stood to receive our charge nothing could save them. But as we quickened into a gallop a cloud of arrows rose to meet us. A short bow means a short arrow, and these puny twigs will not penetrate mail, or pierce a horse to vital spot; but the infidels shoot them high, with a falling trajectory, to lodge in the quarters or shoulders of the beast; then he is lamed, and his rider must pull up.
The arrow-shower was unpleasant, but I held my shield high, the skirts of my mail covered my calves, and only my feet were exposed; my horse might be lamed, but my own life was in no danger. Everyone around me galloped forward, and I set my teeth and rode in my place.
As I couched my lance, the whole Turkish army whipped round and fled before us, easily keeping their distance. But some riders stood high in their stirrups, twisting their bodies, and in this posture shot over the tails of their ponies. Then our trumpets sounded the Halt, and as I raised my lance upright I looked round to see if any harm had come to our army.
A sprinkling of Romans rode injured horses to the rear, but I saw no dead or wounded men. Then I saw a pony lying before our line. I had forgotten that our men also carried bows. Naturally they charged sword in hand, but the moment we halted Roman arrows sped towards the infidels. The Roman bow is longer and more powerful than the Turkish, and inflicts a more deadly wound; but it is more cumbersome, and a mounted man can only shoot over his horse’s ears.
It was very hot, and a dense pillar of dust hung over the battlefield. I could hardly see our right wing, and the disgusting film on my lips made me very thirsty. But my companions seemed cheerful; they were veterans of many encounters with nomad horse-archers, which had always ended in victory.
For some minutes we exchanged arrows, both sides halted. Then the Turks withdrew
out of range, but obviously in obedience to a command, not as men who are beginning to flee. While we ordered our ranks pack-mules brought arrows from the second line to replenish our quivers. Then the trumpets sounded Walk March, and as we closed the range our front ranks shot again. I glanced at the sun, and called to my lord Bryennius:
‘Sir, if we are to chase these Turks over the rim of the world at this speed, it will be a very long battle.’
He answered cheerfully: ‘None of your bull-headed Frankish charges! This is a disciplined army. Remember, they must stand to hold the Sultan’s camp.’
As we advanced the infidels withdrew, keeping always just within long range. We moved at a steady walk, always in line; but the Turks scurried about, waiting at a stand until we had nearly reached them, and then galloping swiftly for a bowshot until they halted again; and this not as one man, like the Romans, but in a continual rolling retreat, as those nearest spurred their ponies to reveal behind them others with bent bows. We seemed always on the point of catching them, but we never did. Yet their ponies remained fresh; the short scurries let them stretch their legs, and those poor-spirited nags are always willing to stand; while our fiery chargers took more out of themselves, straining and rearing to get at their foes, than if we had given them their heads in a brisk charge. Presently I recalled that the centre division, the School of the Guards, were steel-clad lancers, unable to reply to the arrows of the infidel. The Emperor was undoubtedly a trained soldier of great patience; he fought by the official hand-book of tactics, unwilling to order a second charge until the enemy stood to receive it.
The Lady for Ransom Page 9
