by Paul Doherty
Asmaja, Firuz’s wife, welcomed them with goblets of honey mead. She was truly beautiful: a close-fitting white veil framed a delicate, sensitive face, pale-skinned with lustrous eyes and rose-bud lips. Firuz clearly adored her. He immediately invited her and his new guests on to the dais of the main chamber. They sat on cushions around a low table. Servants brought platters of pitta bread, fruits, dried meats and delicious-tasting wines. Firuz, who was not a Muslim, openly rejoiced in feasting his guests; Baldur was more circumspect and frugal. Theodore acted the relieved man, happy at his reception by Yaghi Siyan. Simeon and Imogene remained silent; the latter, her precious box close to her, still looked sullen and petulant. Eleanor felt exhausted and dirty after the previous night’s imprisonment. She was desperate for sleep but determined to remain vigilant.
Firuz, under the influence of the wine, explained how Theodore would join him in securing the Twin Sisters tower and advising him on what siege machinery the Franks might bring up against them. Apparently his home was also to be their prison. Apologetically he explained how, for the time being, his guests, under pain of immediate death, were not allowed to leave the vicinity of the Twin Sisters for the city markets or bazaars, whilst they were certainly not to approach any of the main gates. Theodore, munching from his tray of diced lamb and vegetables, nodded understandingly and the conversation moved on. Eleanor, tired though she was, became distracted. At first she thought it was her own weariness, her bleary eyes, yet she was sure she caught a loving glance pass between Asmaja and Baldur. She lowered her head and mentally recited the Confiteor, an act of contrition for her sins and wayward thoughts. Yet as the meal continued, she glimpsed similar glances between the pair. Firuz, flushed with wine, remained totally oblivious, yet to Eleanor, his wife seemed deeply smitten with the handsome captain of Turcopoles.
The meal over, Firuz and Baldur wished to discuss things amongst themselves. Theodore, Eleanor and the rest were taken up to the highest floor of the tower, the staircase outside it leading through a narrow door on to the crenellated fighting platform. The chamber itself was comfortable, with pegs on the walls for their clothes, and chests and coffers for their other belongings. Servants busied themselves, and eventually four straw-filled palliasses lay about the room. Embroidered cloths hung against the walls, whilst rugs, shutters and bronze braziers kept out the cold. A wooden lavarium provided a bowl and water jug. Theodore, finger to his lips, indicated that they should remain silent whilst he loudly commented on how comfortable the chamber was and how, living at the top of tower, they would be more secure.
‘And more easily guarded!’ Eleanor whispered.
Once they had unpacked and made themselves comfortable, they went across to the basement of the other tower to wash and change their clothes. Afterwards they gathered in a circle in their own chamber. Theodore had inspected everything carefully, and had found no eyelets or peepholes in the wall, whilst the door was of thick, strong oak. They were safe. At first they had to listen to Imogene’s hiss of hateful words, her fury at being taken away, her desire to return. Theodore calmed her, relaying what Yaghi Siyan had said whilst reminding her how fortunate she was. If Antioch fell to the Army of God, she would be safe. If the Army of God withdrew, they could all easily slip out amidst the joyful celebrations of the city. Moreover, if they had stayed in the camp, they could starve, die in the fighting or run the risk of even being ejected from the camp. Imogene seemed satisfied. Theodore pressed them all not to ask questions; their task was not to discover spies but to find a way for the Army of God to enter Antioch. Eleanor described what she had seen pass between Baldur and Asmaja. Theodore chewed on the corner of his lip, narrowed his eyes and told her to watch further. For the rest, he advised, they must only wait and see.
So, in that freezing January, the Year of Our Lord 1098, they settled down in the tower of the Twin Sisters in Antioch. Theodore joined the garrison, proving himself to be a skilled adviser, impressing everyone with his expertise. Eleanor and Imogene helped with household tasks. Theodore asked Simeon to tutor both himself and his ‘wife’ in chancery skills, declaring that he wished to extend his education. In many ways it was a halcyon existence compared with the horrors of the camp beyond Antioch. They were cut off from the siege but, through Firuz, discovered what was happening outside. Matters were turning from bad to worse in the Army of God. Rain beat through the fabric of the tents, rusting the armour, softening the bowstrings. The ground beneath became churned, the mud working its way up through the rugs and blankets on which the besiegers slept. Nature seemed to be against the Franks. One night the earth shook with a heart-chilling tremor. Pavilions toppled down. Men who ran out into the open were thrown off their feet. Fissures and cracks appeared in the earth. As the Franks gathered in groups to see what was happening, fresh horrors terrified them. In the northern sky plumes of flame shot up amongst the stars, the orange-red glow spreading out and changing to purple. The light rose higher, twisting and turning, brightening the sky until the Army of God could see the mud underfoot and the pale faces around them. Night turned to day; dawn broke even before the first cock crew. Surely it was a sign? The Army of God wondered about this, as did the people of Antioch. More news arrived at the Twin Sisters. Adhémar had declared that God was angry with the Franks so they must purify the army. All women had been forcibly driven beyond the camp down to Port St Simeon; now he ordered a three-day fast with prayer. Sinners were rigorously punished. An adulterous couple, caught in their sin, were stripped naked and paraded through the camp to be beaten and humiliated. Theodore relayed this information while they were sitting at table with their hosts. Eleanor watched Asmaja’s face blush lightly. Theodore swiftly moved the conversation on, praising Firuz and Asmaja for their food whilst pointing out that famine ruled amongst the Franks. Merchants were charging eight pieces of gold, a hundred and twenty silver dinars, for a donkey-load of provisions.
‘Many are dying,’ he declared. ‘Even more deserting.’
Principal amongst the deserters were William the Carpenter and Peter the Hermit; neither could tolerate the deprivation any further and had fled into the night. Bohemond heard of this and sent Tancred in pursuit to bring them back. For an entire night William the Carpenter lay bound ‘like some evil thing’ in Bohemond’s tent. The next day the Norman lord gave him a public lecture, calling him miserable, a shame and a dishonour to his own people, and making pointed reference to other betrayals when he had served in Iberia. William at least had the sense not to object. Other knights pleaded for him, and Bohemond finally agreed that he would not be punished providing he took an oath to remain. He did so, but a few nights later deserted for good. News of such betrayals spread joy in Antioch, especially when they heard that Tacticius, the Emperor’s own representative, had decided to leave to report to his master. Tacticius took a solemn oath to Bohemond that all the castles and towns captured on the way would be his, and he left his tent and baggage as guarantee that he would return, but he never did. When Theodore heard this, he just shook his head.
‘Foresworn he is,’ he whispered. ‘Foresworn he shall remain.’
At the end of January, Firuz called his household and guests together. Tonight they would celebrate, he declared, for wonderful news had arrived: Ridwan, Emir of Aleppo, was marching with twelve thousand men to raise the siege. The news had spread like wildfire through the city, and there were jubilations, dancing in the street, celebrations at the palace.
‘We will crush them!’ Firuz declared. ‘We shall crush the infidels between Ridwan’s army and the walls of Antioch.’
Theodore tried to put a brave face on it. Imogene had to leave the room, claiming she felt unwell. It seemed as if the Army of God was destined for destruction. Later that evening they gathered in their chamber. Theodore could offer no comfort.
‘We can do nothing,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘except pray.’
They waited. The days passed. At last news began to seep through. A miracle had occurred! Apparently the Army
of God had decided to meet the foe out in the open. They put the command of the camp under Adhémar and Count Raymond, whilst Bohemond led out a thousand mounted men to meet an army of twelve thousand. He took up position near the Iron Bridge and camped on level ground about a mile long between a great lake and the marsh, which would defend his flanks. He then organised his division into six cohorts and simply waited for Ridwan to approach. He did so swiftly, just after dawn. Scouts rode into the Frankish camp screaming how the enemy were almost upon them. Bohemond raged around, kicking men awake, urging them to don harness and saddle their horses. He ordered his cavalry out, five phalanxes lined up side by side; the sixth he kept in reserve.
Ridwan’s army came on, thousands of them in two formations. The Turks expected the Franks to attack, but they did not, and the Turks had no choice but to come on, approaching at a trot. It was a grey day, so Eleanor later learned for her chronicle, and the battle was fought in a bleak place, a desperate struggle for survival. Turkish arrows whirred through the air, but still the Frankish line did not move. Saddles emptied, horses reared, plunged and panicked. The Franks just sang, verse after verse of the same psalm, as destruction fell on them. At last the Turks broke into a full charge and so did the Franks, long lances going down, shields up as they spurred their charges on. They ploughed into the Turks, sending the first line reeling back on to the second to cause utter confusion. Bohemond then committed his sixth phalanx, which circled the battlefield and tore into the right flank of the enemy. The swift horses of the Turks did not avail them. Bohemond surged on like a reaper through corn, first with his lance then his sword, his knights following, their crimson standards rippling in the breeze. The Frankish charge was relentless. Swords flashed, cutting through the enemy like a knife would cloth, dealing out death to the left and to the right. The Turks broke, fleeing back. The Franks pursued. Confusion amongst Ridwan’s forces spread like ripples of water merging into each other. In the end, Ridwan of Aleppo and his captains fled, leaving the field to Bohemond and his knights, who stormed the enemy camp and took possession of it. The black banners of anarchy were unfurled. No prisoners were taken. Wholesale executions were carried out. A day later, Bohemond arranged stakes along the ditch before Antioch. On each he placed a head so that the city garrison could stare out at the thousands of poles each bearing its gruesome trophy.
The news of Bohemond’s victory spread gloom throughout Antioch, astonishing Yaghi Siyan and his council. Nevertheless, they still hoped that famine and pestilence would devastate the besiegers. The reports coming into the city were increasingly grim. The Franks were grubbing for roots and chewing on leather to stifle the ache of hunger. They gorged themselves on the sticky-sweet meat of dead camels and trapped rats and mice. Some of them turned to cannibalism and collected the carcasses of dead Turks, which they skinned and skewered, boiling chunks of flesh in their great cauldrons. Word of the ghastly feast spread through the camp and people came to watch. Once they had tasted human flesh, the perpetrators searched for more amongst the Muslim tombs outside the city.
Theodore confided to Eleanor how the Army of God had now shrunk to thirty thousand, yet they were still intent on victory, especially as help had arrived. Ships from England and Hainault docked in the port of St Simeon, bringing in engineers and wood to build siege engines. Yaghi Siyan heard about this and launched fierce raids, but they were driven back. The Franks had now decided that all gates to the city should be blockaded. They seized an abandoned mosque near Bridge Gate, beat off attackers, dug a double ditch and built a limestone wall with a tower which they nicknamed ‘La Mahomeri’, the old French for the Blessed Virgin Mary. Worse was to come. Tancred had taken up residence in the hills near the St George Gate. He attacked caravans and supply wagons, seizing horses and provisions before moving to occupy and fortify a disused monastery nearby.
As March turned into April, the city of Antioch realised that the Franks were still resolute in their aggression. Each gate was now controlled and blockaded, and despite sallies and forays, the Army of God held fast. In Antioch, fear and panic began to spread. No longer were the markets and bazaars full. The city teemed with people, and as the Franks tightened their belt around it, hunger soon made itself felt. Eleanor and the rest were no longer invited to banquets and feasts. Food grew scarce. Prices began to rise. The siege started to bite savagely. Yaghi Siyan turned to terror. He had prisoners taken up on to the walls. One knight, Reynold, captured in a foray, was ordered to renounce his faith but refused and was promptly executed on the battlements, his corpse tossed over into the ditch. Other prisoners were paraded. Again they were asked to renounce their faith but refused. Yaghi Siyan ordered brushwood to be gathered; the prisoners, men and women, were tied to stakes and the fires lit. The screams of the burning captives could be heard all over the Frankish camp, but such barbarity only strengthened their resolve.
Inside Antioch, Theodore continued his deception. Eleanor reasoned that he must have communicated somehow with Bohemond, for the Poor Brethren of the Temple appeared in the rocky passes and culverts beneath the tower of the Twin Sisters. Theodore became busy advising Firuz on the mangonels, catapults and mantlets the Franks brought up. Eleanor felt she was in a waking dream. She was locked in the tower, acting as if this was her life, whilst a mere arrow-cast away, her beloved brother Hugh, Godefroi and the rest took up positions to shatter the world she sheltered in.
Life in the Twin Sisters was certainly changing. The blockade of Bridge Gate and the St George Gate, and the presence of the Franks in the foothills of Mount Silpius, had their effect. Food, supplies and provender were abruptly cut off. Markets closed. Bazaars emptied. Stallholders had nothing to offer as famine crept the streets. The effect of such strictures deepened. The Armenian population became restless; even Firuz began to rail at the harsh regime of Yaghi Siyan, arguing that his ruler should at least seek terms of surrender from the Army of God. Theodore, skilful and sly, noted this and cast about looking for an opportunity. Asmaja provided it.
Eleanor had volunteered to look after washing the clothes. These were piled into great tubs, soaked, squeezed and taken down to a nearby olive grove to be stretched out for the day. One morning early in May, taking advantage of the strengthening sun, she was laying out some garments when a flash of colour caught her eye. She left the baskets, moving silently as she had done when she and Hugh were children playing in the woods near their parents’ manor at Compiègne. It was a beautiful day, the grass alive with crickets, birds singing in the branches above her, the scent of wild primrose heavy on the morning breeze. On the far side of the grove, she glimpsed Asmaja and Baldur, two lovers entwined, kissing and embracing, passionate in their desire for each other. Eleanor felt guilty, yet she stayed and observed even as Baldur took Asmaja deeper into the trees. She watched as they lay down, unaware of the sounds around her; only the flash of cloth kept her attention before she stole away. She felt guilty, disturbed at what she’d seen, but eventually she informed Theodore. During their stay in the tower, he’d kept his distance, acting the distracted husband, never intimate or personal. Now he took her hands in his and kissed her fingers gently.
‘Eleanor, all you have done here,’ he whispered, ‘is to act the part as I have. I feel sorry for Asmaja, Firuz and Baldur, but I also pity my comrades rotting in the camp outside. What you have told me I must use.’
Over the next few days Theodore deftly wove a tapestry of subtle intrigue. Firuz learnt about his wife’s infidelity, then witnessed it first hand. Publicly there were no confrontations or angry words. Baldur was summoned to the tower and dismissed, whilst Asmaja simply disappeared. Firuz informed Theodore that he had sent his wife back to her parents. Theodore, ever the good listener, counselled his new-found friend. Firuz appealed to Yaghi Siyan for justice against the adulterer Baldur, but the ruler of Antioch had other matters on his mind and dismissed the plea out of hand. Firuz returned to the Twin Sisters deeply resentful, determined to drown his sorrows in goblets of wine.
Theodore, like the serpent in Eden, wound his way round the man’s soul. Firuz listened. Theodore pointed out how all the gates of Antioch were besieged, the city was locked and eventually would fall. He opened a way whereby Firuz could secure justice and vengeance, not only against his wife and Baldur, protected by Yaghi Siyan, but against the ruler of Antioch himself.
Within a week the web was woven and Firuz was trapped. He entered into secret pacts with Theodore and solemnly promised how, at a given time, he would deliver the Twin Sisters to Bohemond and the Army of God. The trap was closed. Firuz could not object. If he now revealed the plot to Yaghi Siyan, he, like Theodore and the others, would be executed as a traitor. It was only a matter of time, of waiting for the right opportunity.
Part 7
Antioch: The Feast of St Lawrence, 10 August 1098
Quo vulneratus insuper, mucorne diro lanceae.
(Where he was wounded by a thrust from the
sharp tip of that lance.)
Venantius Fortunatus, ‘Hymn In Honour of the Cross’
Full summer was now close. Water was plentiful in the city but the markets remained empty. Firuz, full of bitterness, had grown even more eager than Theodore for the Army of God to act. The situation in and around Antioch was worsening. The army were digging up bodies to eat, and cannibalism was rife in the camp, whilst in Antioch the price of food soared so high that people lay out in the streets begging for food. Violent clashes occurred around Bridge Gate and that of St George as Yaghi Siyan made a desperate attempt to destroy the makeshift forts and redoubts that had been thrown up, but still the Franks pressed their siege. News filtered through. Khebogha, Atabeg of the Caliph of Baghdad and Emir of Mosul, was fast approaching the city with a huge army, ready to crush the Franks. Such news heartened Antioch. Bohemond and the others only intensified their siege. Firuz made a fresh appeal to Yaghi Siyan for justice, but Baldur was needed to lead out sorties from Bridge Gate, and Yaghi Siyan refused to do anything.
