No wonder the Seljuks needed to use treachery to gain a foot inside the city walls, De Lagery thought ruefully.
Word had reached Europe that the Crusaders would probably dig in for a lengthy siege - attacking the walls directly could prove catastrophic to the Crusade at this point. But, for the siege to be successful, they'd need the right equipment, such as which Captain De Lagery carried aboard his ship.
His thoughts were interrupted by a strange sight on the quay. A man was standing next to his horse, eyeing the ship. Indecision was clearly edged on his face. De Lagery had seen that look on many young knights' faces this past year and a half and would normally have ignored the man, but something kept his attention.
The man might have been indecisive at that moment, but De Lagery could tell by the way he cocked his head to the side that once he had made his decision, he would see things through to the bitter end.
"Ahoy there! Can I help you?" he shouted down at the man, involuntarily doing a double-take when he saw the steel in the man's eyes.
"Is this ship heading towards the Crusaders?" the man shouted back.
"Indeed it is. We're heading towards St. Simeon, which is the closest port to Antioch."
The man held his gaze for a few moments and then finally came to a decision.
"Would you be willing to take another hand with you?" he asked.
Normally De Lagery would have chased him away, because his ship was overloaded as it was. Yet something about the man's bearing made him hesitate.
"Come on board," he finally shouted. "You'll have to sell your horse though. There's no room for it. But you’d better do it quickly as we're about to weigh anchor."
Without a moment's hesitation the man led his horse to a nearby stable, conversed with the owner for a few seconds and then returned to the ship without the horse. He quickly scampered up the walkway and held out his hand to the captain.
Taking the man's hand in greeting, De Lagery introduced himself: "Captain De Lagery."
"Lamech."
"Welcome aboard Lamech. I hope you've got your sea boots on because we're going to cut directly across the Mediterranean to St. Simeon."
"Thank you. I'm sure I'll manage," Lamech said without smiling.
"I'm afraid you'll have to find a place on deck to sleep as we don't have any cabins left," De Lagery continued and eyed Lamech appraisingly, wondering whether he had made a wise decision. Too late, he thought. It's in the Lord's hands now.
"That's fine. And I'm not inexperienced with ships so you may put me to work," Lamech replied.
De Lagery laughed. "Don't worry about that," he answered, "That goes without saying."
Lamech smiled slightly at his words. "I can see this is going to be an eventful trip," he replied.
De Lagery laughed uproariously and slapped Lamech on the back. "You can count on that," he said, all doubts of having had Lamech on board his ship disappearing.
-------
--- St Simeon, November 1097 ---
The trip was utterly uneventful. The Mediterranean Sea behaved itself miraculously well, with a favourable wind speeding the travellers to St. Simeon. A couple of days into their journey they had joined up with a Genoese fleet which was also heading towards St Simeon from Italy.
On a mid-November morning, Lamech was standing at the railing of their ship, gazing into the misty horizon. The undefined hulks of the Genoese fleet could barely be made out on both sides of them; ghostly apparitions rolling in and out of focus through the mist, gently bobbing up and down on the waves.
At any other time it would have been a fascinating sight, but at that very moment Lamech didn't notice anything around him, his mind occupied by long dead images.
With calm seas and full sails, there was very little for Lamech to do on the trip but fight the urge to sink deeper into dark thoughts. It was a battle against memories of blood, betrayal and vengeance that threatened to consume him. As much as he tried to keep the menacing waves at bay, rivulets of memories seeped through cracks in his defences and filled his heart and mind.
The memories were dark, but the clarity of the pain kept it from blurring.
It hadn't been difficult to track down her murderer. The man had been a prominent figure in the city. A score of witnesses had identified him as the man who they had seen running from her room, blood splattered all over his clothes.
Upon learning the identity of her murderer, Lamech had stormed into the man's house in a blind rage. He had found him sitting down for dinner as if nothing had happened. But when he saw Lamech standing in the doorway, he kicked over his chair in his haste to get away. Lamech had dived across the table and bore him to the ground, his one knee wrenched painfully into the man's stomach.
Lamech remember holding his knife against his throat, staring into fearful eyes. He had held himself on the brink for what felt like hours, desperately fighting the urge to slice into his throat.
If it wasn't for his father storming into the room and screaming for him to stay his hand, he probably would have killed him.
A piercing cry propelled him back to the present: "Land ahead!"
His head jerked up at the sound and he peered into the morning fog. He could just make out the outline of something slowly taking shape in the distance. He moved away from the side railing and made his way towards the front of the ship where he joined other soldiers and some sailors who were staring at the rapidly materialising harbour walls of St Simeon.
His dark recollections of a moment ago faded quickly with each rise and fall of the ship. Lamech could feel his heart lifting as the ship stormed towards the misty apparition. He felt elated, even as the familiar anger still boiled just below the surface.
At last he would find something for his sword to do.
As the fleet drew closer to the harbour, he could make out figures standing on the harbour wall, waiting for them to dock. At first they seemed ghost-like thanks to the mist that was blanketing the entire area, reducing visibility to a few hundred feet at best. But Lamech could soon make out that the figures awaiting their arrival were Crusaders.
None of them really wore any matching clothing that could be considered part of a uniform, but every single one of them sported a red cross on their person in some form or another. Some of the Crusaders had a cross embroidered on their tunics, others had it painted on the front of their helmets; still others had a smaller red cross painted over their hearts in crude strokes.
The grimness and silence with which they stood and waited struck Lamech the most. It was clear from the way they carried themselves that they were battle-hardened fighters. Lamech could only surmise that the weak ones had fallen in battle long ago. Those that remained were the ones who had the nerve and the fighting skill to survive.
His suspicions were confirmed the moment he stepped onto land at St Simeon and saw them up close. Although they were all smiling at the newcomers, every single one of them bore evidence of constant battle over the past year and a half since the Crusade got underway in earnest.
One had a scar that ran from the top of his right ear all the way down his cheek, ending in a hook on his chin. It had not healed well due to the minimal medical assistance the Crusaders had at their disposal.
Another's entire nose was missing with two gaping holes in its stead. During the siege of Nicaea a few months earlier he had narrowly missed being cleaved in two by an enemy sword when he jerked his head back at the last moment, but lost his nose instead.
They were welcomed warmly enough by the Crusaders, whose joy at the reinforcements and supplies was evident. Lamech's hand was grabbed and shaken in greeting by seemingly every soldier there, each of them looking him straight in the eye and embracing him as a fellow Crusader.
At first, being welcomed as such sat uncomfortably with him. His was not a holy war, but he realised that in the eyes of those around him, he was there to help free Jerusalem. If it would ease his way, he was not going to correct them.
Once more he reflec
ted on the events that had led him to this place. Right up to the attack in Arles, he had not given vengeance much thought. He had known that her murderer had joined up with the Crusade during the first wave, but he had not considered going after him.
After his father stayed his hand in the man's house that day, the rage had left him as he was numbed by grief. Taking the opportunity presented to him, her murderer had left town and joined up with the Crusaders just as they were setting out.
Lamech had tried to keep up to date with what had happened to the man, silently wishing he would never return. But he had not expected him to die within only a few short months though.
The news had left Lamech deeply unsettled. When her murderer died at the hand of a Caracen soldier, all possibility of revenge had died with it. Only then had Lamech surfaced from the depths of his own grief and realised how much he had actually craved to do something about her death.
That craving had led him down a deadly path that soiled his hands in blood, but the lust for revenge had not lifted. He had sunk into deep depression and despair, frustrating anger becoming his constant companion. He had fled to Avignon to avoid capture for what he had done, but the anger had followed him.
Meeting Leala and then later witnessing the feelings between her and Joash had ripped him wide open, momentarily unhinging his murderous emotions. The way they had clung to each other after surviving the attack in Arles had brought back a memory that was sharply driven through his very being like a nail, bursting the chambers of his heart wide open.
Chasing through the night on the back of his horse, memories of her had ripped through him until he fell off his horse and collapsed next to the side of the road, tears silently streaming down his face. Eventually he had succumbed to exhaustion and passed out.
The next morning he was woken by pummelling raindrops. Despite the stormy weather, his head was as clear as it had ever been and he intuitively knew what he had to do. Following in her dead murderer's footsteps didn't make much sense, but at least it held the allure of doing something - even if all it offered was to quench the bloodlust still ringing in his ears.
Identifying the best way to join the Crusade had taken him a couple of weeks but when saw the urgency with which Captain De Lagery was preparing to go to war he knew it was the way.
After shaking the hand of the umpteenth soldier welcoming them to St Simeon, Lamech noticed one standing to the side, watching the gathering. Lamech guessed him to be a good couple of years older than himself.
Like the others, he had an air about him of a man who had seen his share of battle. But Lamech was surprised to find that, unlike the other Crusaders, there was peace written all over his face.
Drawn to him, Lamech walked over to introduce himself. As he drew near, the soldier noticed him approaching and watched him appraisingly.
Lamech reached out his hand and the soldier clasped it without hesitation.
"I'm Lamech."
"Othniel," the soldier replied and smiled slightly.
Lamech turned to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Othniel. Together they watched the throng of sailors unloading equipment from the ships.
After a moment of surprisingly comfortable silence, Lamech turned his attention to Othniel and asked: "When did you join the Crusade?"
"I guess that's as good a question as any to begin with," Othniel smiled. "I joined up at Lyons with the Northern French army."
"So you've been at it from the beginning," Lamech remarked. Othniel shrugged, noncommittal.
"Do you report to them?" Lamech asked.
"Not really, no. I'm what you could call ‘on my own mission’, with no liege that I report to except God. You'll find a number of others who are in similar situations," Othniel replied.
"Sounds good to me - I think I'll fit right in," Lamech said.
"Oh no you won't," Othniel chuckled. "You'll find that this Crusader army is often more concerned with politics and squabbling over the spoils of war than freeing Jerusalem. Even the ultimate aim of conquering Jerusalem is really motivated by power and money."
Othniel continued: "Those of us who don't concern ourselves with those agendas are considered to be... unreliable by some - and thus left on the fringe."
"I'll bet they don't complain when you lend a hand during the fighting though," Lamech remarked dryly.
"Indeed not!" Othniel laughed. "Which is fortuitous as it means I get to choose my battles. As you so rightly put it, they don't mind if I tag along."
"Does choosing your battles take you away from, or closer to danger?" Lamech asked, eyeing his new acquaintance closely.
"It depends on where the Lord directs me to fight," Othniel smiled.
His answer annoyed Lamech slightly.
"Do you believe God is indeed behind this war?"
"No. I don't believe this war is of God," Othniel replied calmly. "But even in the midst of the devil's work, God can work His purposes."
Lamech turned his attention back towards the activity before them and did not reply.
Othniel scrutinised him for a few seconds and then said: "As you can see, I'm not really interested in Jerusalem."
"Neither am I," replied Lamech, and then walked back to the ships to lend a hand with the offloading.
Othniel watched his retreating back and smiled. Well, well, well, he prayed silently. What have You brought me here?
-------
--- On the road to Antioch, November 1097 ---
Lamech was impressed with how quick the Crusaders were in offloading all the equipment and getting it ready for transportation to Antioch. On the trip he was told how the Crusader siege of Antioch had, up till now, been a hit-and-miss affair. This made their haste in moving all the extra equipment to their camp all the more understandable.
The city had a number of gates, but the Crusader army was not big enough to affect a complete blockade of all of them. As a result, the Caracen garrison was free to come and go as they pleased, and - more importantly - to receive supplies from outside the city walls.
After a brief lull following the initial arrival of the Crusaders, the Antioch garrison had also begun to attack them. At first these attacks were mere skirmishes, but they had been steadily growing in size and ferocity.
Lamech was riding at the back of the convoy as it slowly lumbered towards Antioch. A month into the siege the Crusaders were clearly desperate to tighten the noose around Antioch and limit its garrison's mobility, he thought grimly.
Othniel was riding to his left, having sauntered up to him when they set out from St Simeon. Lamech acknowledged his presence with a polite nod, but they had been riding in silence for the most part.
One could easily be fooled into thinking Othniel was just lolling lazily with the motion of his mount, but Lamech suspected he was extremely alert. Every couple of minutes he would catch him looking at the ridge to the left of the road, as if waiting for something.
When Lamech turned his attention to the other Crusaders around him, he discovered that most of them were doing the same thing.
"Are we expecting company?" he asked, turning his attention back to Othniel. His companion looked at him and smiled slightly.
"The Caracens enjoy harassing us. No doubt they won't be pleased to see this equipment arriving at Antioch," he said. "Hopefully they'll only find out about it once we arrive at Antioch, but I will be very surprised if that turns out to be the case. If they do find out about it before we reach the city... well, let's just say it's not going to be much fun defending our current position."
Lamech nodded at Othniel's words and glanced at the ridge.
"I would have been happier if Bohemond was here," Othniel remarked after a while.
"Who?" Lamech asked.
"Bohemond of Taranto," Othniel replied. When Lamech looked at him nonplussed, he continued: "He's an Italian and one of the leaders of this Crusade. I don't care much for the man - he's ambitious and too self-assured for my taste - but he's a military genius. Having him around w
ould significantly increase our chances if we were attacked."
Lamech received his words in silence and continued in deep thought.
"What do you mean by ambitious?" he finally asked.
"Yes, surprising," Othniel replied with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "For Bohemond - and many of the others for that matter - this Crusade is about so much more than freeing Jerusalem. In fact, word has it he's actually got his sights on Antioch."
East of Ashes Page 7
