This was said in a very friendly way. The lord Alexius was a handsome young knight, with the frame of a warrior. Comne, whence the Comneni take their name, is a village of Thrace, but they boast Armenian descent; he had the hooked nose and grim mouth of an Armenian noble, but his expression was softened by a very engaging smile; he had an extraordinary knack of putting strangers at their ease. I felt I had met someone who would like to be my friend, though he could be a formidable enemy.
In the castle my news caused great confusion. Most of the band were for holding what we regarded as our fief, and clamoured to be led to a bloody joust in the market-place. I begged my lord to try nothing of the sort. I had seen Roman bows in action, and knew our horses would be shot down by dismounted archers from the rooftops before we could strike a blow. There was not much food in the citadel, and now that it was day we caught glimpses, through driving snow, of mighty siege-engines outside the town gates. My lord was disappointed with the citizens of Ancyra. He had thought they would never open their gates without consulting him. But a Roman is so proud of being Roman that in a crisis he always rallies to the ruler of the city. We had lost the town, we were not provisioned for a siege, and no one knew what those machines could do to our walls if they were hauled into position. There was also that enticing offer of arrears of pay.
My lady clinched the matter. She spoke out as though she were a warrior; but she looked so fierce that no one told her to shut up and leave politics to men. Her point was that Romans were very good people to live with, and these particular Romans said they had money. My account of the young Alexius also helped. I swore, with my hand on a holy image, that he was a gentleman of honour, who would not murder his opponents in a conference. As it happens I was right, but I still don’t know what made me so certain. Alexius is that kind of man.
My lord went down to the market-place. He wore mail and brought an escort, but the meeting passed off peacefully. Nothing was said about the surrender of Ancyra; the theory, to which every Roman adhered with a straight face, was that the Frankopole had merely lodged in it, awaiting orders, after his gallant and successful retreat from Chliat. Now he had been ordered to join the Domestic, and as soon as his accounts were adjusted he would march.
The money was really there, as Alexius had promised; every mailed and mounted man received thirty gold pieces in full settlement of arrears. This made trouble in the band, which I think the Romans had foreseen and intended. Some warriors, when they saw such a great sum actually in their hands, clamoured to go home to Normandy. Alexius made no difficulties, and when we marched they set off for the city with a strong escort of Roman troopers to stop them plundering on the way. The Frankopole was left with three hundred mailed followers; with such a small force Messer Roussel would not be tempted by ambition.
Once we had agreed to march Alexius treated us as faithful allies. That very night there was one of those late-sitting Roman councils which make Franks so sleepy. It was held, tactfully, in the Treasury building, for the Romans did not enter the castle. My lady insisted on being present, saying she wished to practise her Greek before returning to the city. This was news to my lord. But Messer Roussel was an indulgent husband, and he only stipulated that his sons were to be brought up as Franks, and beaten if they tried to copy freakish Roman customs; the girl might do as she chose; it would be quite a good thing to marry her to a respectable Roman.
In council Alexius was very frank about the state of Romania. There was no army in the field, but his brother, the Domestic of the Schools, had collected about three thousand horse, stragglers from Manzikert and Alan mercenaries, and with this force he would try to protect the open country from Turkish raids. At the beginning of winter, an unexpected season, the Turks had ridden west; their new Sultan had no wish to lead a campaign against Romania; his followers came of their own accord, because there was no one to stop them. They rode in small parties, and fled before armed Romans. But they brought their sheep; they treated fertile Romania like the uninhabited plain of Magog, and where they were undisturbed they cut down trees and vineyards to improve the grazing; of course they killed any peasant they met, but they did not seek out victims. They were not formidable in battle, but wherever they rode the land became waste.
It seemed that we were in for the most tiresome kind of campaign, chasing swift raiders who would not stand and fight; and Alexius said there must be no plundering on our part, for it was vital to preserve what cultivation was left.
Three days later we bade farewell to the lady Matilda, who was taking her children and a heavy bag of gold to her beloved convent in the city. Then we marched to join the Domestic and the three thousand horse who were all the remaining strength of Romania.
We rode up the valley of the Halys. The army was assembling at Caesarea, which needed protection because its walls had recently been overthrown by earthquake. Charsiana and the mountains of Taurus were now the eastern march of Romania; all beyond had been silently abandoned after Manzikert, though Philaretus still ruled Antioch as an independent sovereign. I was astonished at the change in the countryside. Everywhere were ruined fences and ditches blind with weed; the stone farmhouses lay empty; the fruit trees had been felled, and there was not a plough to be seen. It was strange to leave a town, crowded with refugees and already hungry but quite undamaged, to ride through this desert where all traces of humanity were disappearing under the brambles; then in the evening we would reach another walled and unsacked town.
We met no Turks, but we were constantly aware of them. As we rode down the valley we heard from behind every crest the thud of their kettledrums. We saw fresh tracks and steaming horse-droppings, but when we gave chase they outrode us.
The Turks had not sacked Caesarea. But when the walls were breached by earthquake many burgesses fled, and the Domestic’s men had eaten most of the available supplies. It was an uncomfortable bivouac. To make matters worse we were soon on bad terms with our employer. The Domestic was head of the house of Comnenus, whom the Emperor relied on as a counter-balance to his Ducas kinsmen; he had been married to Irene the Alan, a cousin of the Empress, and he might hope to be named Emperor in the future. He was twenty years old, and already a great man. But he had none of his brother’s charm, and grandeur had made him pompous. He was a Roman of the Romans, despising all barbarians.
He was angry with Alexius for overlooking our plunder of Ancyra; his view was that what we had taken should be deducted from our pay. Now he decided we must earn our money; every day we were sent out to track down infidel plunderers. We never caught them, but of course when pursued they fled without doing much harm. It was hard work, and the Domestic made it worse by sending with us Roman officers who reported if we did any plundering ourselves.
A Roman soldier respects private property absolutely; he is well paid and well fed, and he knows that if he picks an apple he may earn a flogging. Franks cannot approach this standard. We did not burn houses, or take the whole contents of a barn; but we helped ourselves to anything small and useful we found lying about, and shared the food of the peasants without waiting for an invitation. It is hardly plunder if you do not kill. The Domestic could not see it in this light, and was always complaining to the Frankopole.
Then Robert de Hal went too far. I have already mentioned him as a Brabancon who was more of a robber than the average Norman. He found in a well a bundle of church plate, evidently hidden to save it from the infidel. He put it on his saddle and when we returned to Caesarea inquired openly for an honest silversmith, intending to sell his booty; but two Roman troopers jumped on his back (he had disarmed), and hanged him from the main gate.
His wife was in Brabant, but he had in the camp a concubine, called Gertie the Forsworn because she was always willing to testify to the innocence of any friend in trouble with the law. She came before my lord, wailing and tearing her hair; it was said she was well practised in these appeals for mercy, though on this occasion it was vengeance she sought. At least she raised a great clam
our, and a couple of hundred angry Franks collected outside my lord’s lodging.
My lord also was angry. By the laws of all Christendom sacrilege is punished with death; but everyone is broadminded about the thefts of a hired mercenary, and anyway it was not for a Roman officer to do justice on a Frank. It was my lord’s privilege as Frankopole to keep discipline among his followers, and if the Romans wanted their plate he could have arranged to get it back peacefully. No one was sorry for Robert, but the manner of his death was an insult.
When I joined the crowd Gertie had already subsided into hysterics. Men were slipping away to arm, and it looked as though in a few minutes we should have a pitched battle in the dark. But my lord was still undecided and he called me to confer with him in private. I barred the door of his lodging, and squatted on the floor with the half-dozen knights who had already assembled.
‘Well, which is it to be,’ said Messer Roussel in great anger, ‘make war on Romania or ride to the coast and take ship for Italy? I don’t mind which you decide, so long as we stick together. But I won’t serve the Domestic another day. Robert de Hal is all the better for his hanging, but he had no trial, and it might have been any of us. Make up your minds, or the sergeants will fight without us.’
A young knight spoke at once. ‘The hills are full of Turks, and we can stick a horse’s tail on a pole. If they see us riding under their ensign they might join us, even though we can’t talk to them.’
‘I don’t mind making war on Christians,’ said another, ‘but to use infidel allies brings bad luck.’
‘Well then, what about going home?’
‘And leave the land which has given me thirty pieces of gold?’
They all began to argue. They could not bear to ride out of reach of that wonderful Treasury. But we had all fought the infidel in Sicily before we came to Romania; an alliance with Turks against Christians was more than we could stomach.
‘Why not chase the Domestic out of Caesarea, and then tell them we are willing to serve another commander?’ said a very stupid old knight. ‘Isaac Comnenus is a young lord, newly promoted. King Michael must have dozens of others to choose from.’
‘Don’t call him King, it’s an insult,’ I put in automatically. For so long had I been trying to prevent unintentional insults that I forgot we were now enemies to the Emperor.
‘I’m not sure three hundred of us can chase three thousand Romans,’ said my lord. ‘The second idea, offering to serve under another Domestic, is merely silly. Remember the fate of Messer Crispin. I would eat something that disagreed with me.’
We were all talking at once, undecided what to do. Then a veteran sergeant pushed his way in, and shouted: ‘My lord, the boys are armed. They are getting mounted, and if you don’t lead them they will charge by themselves. I can’t get anyone to stay behind and guard the women; I’ve ordered it, and they laugh at me. For God’s sake take over, or the Romans will murder our families while we joust in the market-place.’
My lord picked up his shield. ‘I won’t fight for Romania, and I won’t fight against Christendom, I won’t go home, either. Tell you what. We’ll go together to the eastern march, and fight the Turks for our own profit. We’ll keep what we win, against Christian or infidel. Will you follow me, gentlemen?’
We cheered as we poured out after him, and helped with the flat of our swords to get the excited sergeants into some sort of order. They obeyed my lord when they understood what was proposed, and then began the hard work of preparing for a forced march in the dark. It was now two hours after midnight, and raining hard. Luckily our animals were picketed nearby, and the Romans did not interfere; all they did was to form under arms in the market-place. We were bivouacked in the eastern end of the town, whose ruinous walls were no obstacle; we could march as soon as we were ready.
Just before dawn a party of volunteers charged the main gate, and rescued the body of Robert de Hal. They left two Romans hanging in exchange, and we began our march in good spirits. We buried our comrade at the first ruined church; when we looked for his concubine to be chief mourner we found she had stayed behind, and someone recalled hearing her say that the city was the place where whores prospered. She should have thought of that before she roused us to mutiny. We made about twelve miles before halting to graze the animals, and our rearguard reported no pursuit. We camped on open ground, with very little food.
We followed the river-valley, because the road led that way and all the country was strange to us. It was eerie to ride thus through an unknown land, with foes behind and the infidel ahead; we had no guides and no quarter-masters, and no idea what we would see from the next hilltop. We were a little island of western Christendom in the war-torn east, a moving island whose shores were the points of our lances; it was easy to keep the men closed up, but difficult to find volunteers to go foraging.
I was suddenly a very important person. I was the only linguist in the band, and I rode under the banner of St Michael of Monte Gargano which was our standard; two sergeants were detailed as my bodyguard if it came to a general action. But in fact we had no fighting. Day and night we heard Turkish kettledrums and infidel scouts watched from every hill. But they did not attack. I think this was because we were obviously on the move; they only wanted to be rid of us.
Our worst hardship was hunger, for the land was incredibly wasted; you young gentlemen have raided Maine and the Vexin if you are true Norman warriors; you know what a foe can do as he rides in haste. But knights who have conquered a country cease burning and killing; they need ploughs to work for them once they have gained possession. The Turks are different. All they want is pasture for their sheep, and for that they prefer a desert of unfenced grass. They had been in these parts all winter, and we saw no cultivation. For a week we ate foundered pack-horses and the few biscuits we had brought from Caesarea. Then the road led us to Sebaste, and our troubles were for the moment ended.
From a hill we saw the town, with ploughed fields stretching for two miles from the walls. It is the headquarters of a Theme, and since it is near the frontier a small garrison had been left when the main army marched to Manzikert; after the disaster this had been reinforced by a burgess militia. The Turks rode round, leaving it undamaged. As we approached in order of battle we were relieved to see a small party come out to parley. I went forward to interpret.
The citizens had seen from our banner that we were Christians, but we puzzled them. I told their spokesman with deliberate vagueness that we had recently been mercenaries of the Emperor, but were now looking for another employer. Romans are quick to understand a hint; their leader addressed Messer Roussel. ‘Welcome to Sebaste. We are of course faithful Romans, but the Emperor has left us undefended. We can pay your band from our own treasury, since with the roads so disturbed we cannot send our tribute to the city. Would your lordship undertake the defence of our Theme? We have heard good accounts of your rule in Ancyra.’
Oddly enough, there had been widespread reports of our mild administration. Different lands have different customs; we had lived very much better than the lords of any western fief, but we had not taken money, only food and wine and anything else we wanted; this was very much less than the tribute Ancyra normally paid to the city.
Thus we found another home. In Sebaste is a great castle, as in most of these frontier towns, and it was at our disposal. About half the two hundred Roman soldiers in garrison agreed to serve us, and we allowed the others to depart unhindered. There was food in the granaries, for the neighbouring fields had not been ravaged. This was because the men of Sebaste knew how to cope with Turks; an Armenian who had traded with the nomads told the burgesses what to do. It appeared that the infidels would not stay where their sheep were in danger. A Turk reckons his wealth in sheep; if he has none he is of no account, though his pony may be laden with gold. The Armenian told us not to wear out our horses in pursuit, but to search for the sheep, which would be hidden in some steep valley. The first time we tracked down a flock the infid
els actually stood to defend them, and we delivered a real western charge; of course we killed most of the foe. After that they gave Sebaste a wide berth.
I have never talked so much in my life as in the spring of 1073. I was the only man in the Theme who could translate a serious conversation, though by now most of us had picked up enough Greek to make love or go shopping. It is astonishing that no Roman ever seems to learn Italian. In Sebaste were merchants who spoke Armenian and Syriac, some who knew Arabic and the Alan languages of the Caucasus, at least one who spoke Turkish; but not a soul who had even a smattering of Latin or Romance. Since my lord was, by deliberate policy, very accessible to his vassals, I spent every evening at the council board.
In this way I learned all the news. The Romans were accustomed to civil war, and if a Theme is in revolt that doesn’t stop merchants and private messengers, who have ways of dodging pickets on the road. The men of Sebaste knew all that passed in the city. At first we hoped the Emperor would take our defection peacefully; it is the kind of thing that happens in Romania, and there is even a title for men in Messer Roussel’s position: Curopalates, which means vassal-chief. Philaretus of Antioch had been granted it, and now he permitted trade with the city, though of course he sent no tribute. But we learned during Lent that the Domestic was marching against us; the Emperor considered us more dangerous than the Turks.
We cleaned out the ditch and took hostages from the burgesses, in preparation for a siege. Then we heard that the Turks had done our work for us. Isaac Comnenus fell into an ambush and was taken. It may seem odd that the infidels so often captured Roman leaders, first the Emperor Romanus and then the Domestic; but it is no reflection on Roman courage. The truth is that Turkish arrows seldom kill a mailed warrior, and their victims are first unhorsed and then stabbed as they lie shaken among the hoofs. Now the barbarians were beginning to find out that it paid to spare a well-dressed officer; Isaac was soon ransomed. I was glad to learn that his brother Alexius, who had been so tactful at Ancyra, had been left in charge of the baggage; he got away safely with no blot on his reputation. Rumour said he would be the next Domestic, since the Emperor needed the house of Comnenus and Isaac had proved unlucky.
The Lady for Ransom Page 12
