Constantine himself watched over the city, represented as Apollo in a huge bronze statue atop a column 170 feet high. The Emperor Justinian, captured on horseback in marble three times lifesize, presided over the Hippodrome, an arena with a capacity for 100,000 people. The most impressive sight of all was the Basilica of St Sophia, a building of great antiquity, but far bigger than any Christian church in the West, even the ones newly constructed. The top of its dome was as high as the statue to Constantine and over a hundred feet across.
Estrith stared at it, open-mouthed.
‘My mother told me about it. Isn’t it magnificent? The calculations are outstanding! They were done by the architect Isidorus of Miletus and the mathematician Arthamius of Tralles. No need for my hammer beams; the key is the circular dome. The weight is distributed evenly to the massive walls, buttressed by the even bigger corner columns. But the strength comes from the apex, which holds the roof like the locking ring at the top of a tripod; the pressure from any one direction is held by an equal force fighting against it.’
She made it sound simple; I was sure it wasn’t.
The Emperor’s palace, the Blachernae, stood proudly on a hilltop in the north-west corner of the city with views of the sea and the surrounding countryside. Without wishing to be too disparaging about the abodes of my noble comrades, it made their ducal palaces look like peasants’ hovels. Emperor Alexius had granted us a rare privilege in greeting us at the Blachernae, his private palace, rather than at the Great Palace, usually used for ceremonial occasions. The Great Palace had been built by the Emperor Constantine hundreds of years ago but had, like Byzantium itself, fallen on hard times. An important part of Alexius’s rebuilding of his city and empire had been the commissioning of a new palace to match those of the great Caesars of the past.
Alexius had been one of Byzantium’s highest nobility, and was a highly renowned general, when he became Emperor in a palace coup over fifteen years earlier. The empire was on its knees: the army was demoralized after a crushing defeat at the infamous Battle of Manzikert; the treasury was bare; and a succession of weak or despotic emperors had sapped the energy of the people.
In truth, the empire had been in a constant state of struggle for hundreds of years against fierce warrior-tribes from the North and the messianic valour of Islam from the south. By the time of Alexius’s accession, the chalice of the Purple could well have been a poisoned one and the empire in its death throes. However, slowly and shrewdly, with a combination of diplomacy and aggression, generosity and ruthlessness, Alexius had managed to rebuild the army, refill his treasury and restore the vigour of the people.
When several significant Muslim leaders died in quick succession and internal squabbling between the Shia believers of the Fatimid Caliphate of Cairo and the Sunnis of the Abbasid of Baghdad weakened it, Alexius chose the moment to make his move. His masterstroke was to appeal to his Christian brothers in the West to do his fighting for him. Perhaps, like Pope Urban, who yearned to unite the two Christian Churches under his governance in Rome, Alexius dreamed of uniting East and West under his sovereignty in Constantinople and recreating the glorious empire of Ancient Rome.
Now, as we arrived at what we assumed was the Emperor’s Great Hall, we were amazed to discover that it was only an anteroom for guests to await an audience with him. Even more remarkably, there were two more grand halls after the first, for guests or delegations of increasing importance. Each one was covered from floor to ceiling in intricately woven tapestries – at least three times the size of any I had seen before – the finest marbles, laid in complex symmetrical patterns aglow with vibrant colours, and astonishing mosaics, the quality of which was breathtaking. They depicted hunting, harvests, banquets, bathing and Byzantium’s great military victories in such detail and realism that it looked as if the people and animals were alive beneath one’s feet.
When we finally arrived at his reception hall, it was so large that all 200 of us seemed swallowed by it, even though the Emperor’s court, entourage and bodyguards were already there in significant numbers.
As we took our positions, standing in neat rows beneath the imperial dais, lords in the front rows, lesser mortals in order of precedence towards the back, the Emperor sat in silence, acknowledging only the most senior men with a slight nod of his head and the hint of a smile.
Alexius Comnenus was in his early forties, well set with a neatly cropped beard, heavily flecked with grey. His demeanour was that of a man of stern resolve, but his physique was unremarkable in appearance, apart from piercing steel-grey eyes. However, his clothes and armour were far from ordinary.
On top of his imperial purple surcoat he wore a lamellar-armour jacket made from plates of solid gold, and gold wristlets and armbands. His sea-blue silk cloak was held across his chest by a deep-purple ruby the size of a quail’s egg, and his finely tooled gold crown was studded with pearls, some of which were strung and cascaded down either side of his face like wringlets of hair. All his weapons, most held by his pages behind him, were studded with precious gems. His sword hung from his belt, the scabbard of which was made from gold inset with more rubies than it was possible to count.
Strangely, of all his splendours, I was drawn mostly to his boots. It is often said that you can judge a man by his footwear – well, make of Alexius’s boots what you will. They had the look of riding boots, but were made from the most luxurious soft leather, which the fullers had managed to dye a rich purple to match the rest of his regalia. Then, to finish them off, an elaborate design had been sown into the boots using the same pearls as those of the Emperor’s crown.
The overall effect was awe-inspiring and led me to think that this is what it must have been like to stand before a Hadrian or Augustus.
To the Emperor’s left were his wife, Irene, modestly clothed in white silk but weighed down with gems and gold jewellery, and his eldest children, Anna, a striking girl in her mid-teens with a very inquisitive eye, and John, a small, unattractive boy of about ten.
With only the slightest movement of his index finger, the Emperor summoned one of his entourage, who addressed us in Greek. Estrith was brought forward to stand beside me and translate.
‘His Imperial Majesty welcomes you to Constantinople, city of the Caesars, and to Byzantium, an empire without equal in the world. His Majesty has asked me to thank you for responding to his offer to join with him in opposing the enemies of Christianity who occupy the Sacred Places and who have been plaguing the gates of Europe for centuries. He has also asked me to inform you of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the followers of Peter the Hermit, who arrived here some months ago at the head of a large group of pilgrims who had also answered His Majesty’s offer of brotherhood as soldiers of Christ.’
As the Emperor sat and scrutinized us, his herald described the wretched state of the ragtag army of Peter the Hermit’s ‘People’s Crusade’, as it had come to be called, when it arrived at the gates of Constantinople. Many had been killed in skirmishes with locals or had died of disease along the route. Even so, the Emperor was astonished by the number who had answered his call and horrified by their looting and violence.
The Emperor kept them provisioned and tried to persuade their leaders to wait until the arrival of the professional armies of the Latin Princes before crossing the Bosphorus into Asia Minor. They would not wait, and chaos ensued until Alexius organized hundreds of ships to take them across to the Byzantine-controlled coastal strip on the other side. Unfortunately, they had no appreciation of the power of the army of the Muslim Turks, stationed only two days’ ride away at the stronghold of Nicaea.
The Christian rabble soon began raiding into Muslim territory. The scenes were reported with disgust in Constantinople: children and babies hacked to pieces; girls and old women raped and tortured in unspeakable ways; everything of any value taken; all who resisted put to death.
The Turks soon retaliated. In one incident, a large group of Germans and Italians became trapped in th
e fortress of Xerigordos, where they held out for eight days. By the end, the defenders were drinking the blood of their horses and lowering rags into the sewers in order to drink the liquid squeezed from the extracted contents. When the Turks eventually broke in, they put everyone to the sword.
The rump of the People’s Crusade was camped at Civetot on the coast. When they heard about the massacre at Xerigordos, they immediately set out to attack the formidable Turkish fortress at Nicaea. With little military acumen, they were slaughtered in their thousands long before they reached the fortress, as Estrith graphically reported to us.
‘There was a bloodbath that was to leave a pile of bodies as high as a mountain. The Turks then fell upon Civetot to commit another massacre, killing all those too old, young or ill to fight, and taking as slaves young girls and women, and young boys whose face and form pleased them.’
Peter the Hermit had been in Constantinople, negotiating with the Emperor, and thus had survived, along with only a handful of others rescued by a contingent of the Varangian Guard.
Alexius then got to his feet and spoke for the first time.
‘My noble Lords of Europe, we are grateful for your presence here but, as you have heard, our enemy is formidable. You must not commit your armies in a land you know little about without my guidance. I have been fighting fierce barbarians to the north and cunning infidels to the south all my life. Do not underestimate the Muslim as a man or as a soldier. He is our equal, of that there is no doubt, but he follows a faith that denies the true God, and for that we must pray for his soul. Perversely, he thinks that we are the lost souls, denied everlasting peace – that is the simple truth of it. This is a fight to decide the true path to Heaven, not a campaign against ignorant barbarians.
‘Let me now make some things clear concerning your expedition into the Levant. I will be the watchful angel for your adventure and provide you with transportation across the Bosphorus and adequate provisions for your journey. In return, you will undertake to liberate the Holy Places in the name of Christianity and under my sovereignty. If you wish to create your own fiefdoms in these lands, you will become sovereign lords under my protection and owe fealty to me. To these ends, with God Almighty as your witness, you will now be required to take an oath to affirm your agreement.’
Alexius had played his trump card and, with its impact reverberating around the hall in agitated whispers and gasps, he sat down to be cooled by a pair of tall, bare-breasted, jet-black girls armed with fans of ostrich feathers.
Raymond of Toulouse strode forward, a pace beyond the others.
‘Your Majesty, I am Raymond, Count of Toulouse. Does that mean that your army will not be joining our march on Jerusalem?’
‘My Lord Count, my job is to use my army to guard your rear and help with the evacuation of the sick and wounded. I will man a heavily armed supply line for the entire length of your journey and duration of your stay; a force consisting of many thousands of men.’
Raymond of Toulouse, clearly disconcerted, was about to challenge the Emperor when Stephen of Blois sank to his knees, eager to take the oath. Others quickly followed, leaving Raymond isolated. He eventually agreed to the Emperor’s terms, except for the clause about the sovereignty of Christian fiefdoms. Realizing that it could be dealt with at another time, Alexius nodded his agreement and the oath-taking began for all of us.
During the protracted ceremony, I noticed Estrith smiling at young Bertrand and, once again, I felt the pangs of jealousy.
A little later, Estrith suddenly tugged my arm and whispered in my ear. ‘Look, hanging from the Emperor’s belt. Is it possible?’
Alexius had leaned over to talk to his wife, exposing something attached to his belt and hanging just below his golden jacket. I also recognized it immediately. It was Hereward’s now legendary amulet, the Talisman of Truth.
‘Not now!’
Estrith wanted me to approach the Emperor there and then, and I had to repeat myself three times before she relented.
‘The Emperor has just pulled off an amazing political coup; it’s the work of a genius. We must let the dust settle.’
At the end of the oath-taking, an army of stewards emerged carrying outrageous gifts for everyone. There were caskets of gold and silver coin, bales of silk, jewellery, carved ivory, jade, carpets – the favours just went on appearing, as if conjured by a magician.
For several days afterwards, yet more presents were delivered to the camps of the Crusaders as each contingent’s leadership was invited to the palace in turn to meet Alexius in person. The Emperor briefed them about the general strategy and subtle tactics of the war against the Muslims, as well as the details of his plan for the taking of Jerusalem.
Robert’s exalted status among the Latin Princes meant we were quite near the top of the Emperor’s list and only had a few days to wait for our appointment. Even so, it was difficult to get Sweyn and Adela to agree to wait until the audience before pursuing the tantalizing subject of the object we had seen hanging from the imperial belt.
Meanwhile, my envy for Bertrand’s good fortune in being the man lucky enough to send a tremor through Estrith’s elegant timbers again got the better of me when she and I were next alone together.
‘I assume the presence of the young ascetic with the morals of a stud bull means your abbess’s veil has slipped again?’
Estrith’s response was typically forthright.
‘Edgar, are you protecting me now? Or lecturing me?’
‘I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair.’
My apology appeared to take the sting out of my earlier taunt, and Estrith continued with more restraint and some hesitation.
‘We have spent a couple of nights together, but … if you must know … there will be no more trysts with Bertrand.’
‘Why?’
‘Apart from the fact that you’re right – he’s an empty-headed hypocrite – his passions extend a little too far for my tastes. He wanted … well … let’s just say, I’m not feeling very wholesome at the moment.’
‘I understand. It will not be mentioned again.’
I felt so sorry for Estrith; she had so many gifts and was so generous of spirit. All she wanted was to express herself, but the strange world we lived in made that so difficult for her.
Once again, I thought for a moment about how things might have been different between us. I convinced myself that, were I to become her husband, I would let her spread her wings and fly.
But as soon as those thoughts came into my head, I dismissed them.
That time had passed.
26. Talisman of Truth
The thought of meeting the Emperor of Byzantium in person was nerve-racking at the best of times, but with the added anticipation of what the discovery of the Talisman might mean, we approached the imperial dais feeling somewhat tense.
The great gilt throne, topped by the empire’s fabled double-headed eagle, was empty when we arrived, but the sudden snap of the guards coming to attention signalled the entrance of the man whose lineage allowed him to wear the imperial purple of Rome. We all knelt; Robert and I were allowed to kiss his ring, a cameo of exquisite delicacy bearing the same imperial eagle.
Robert made the introductions. The Emperor was understandably intrigued by a female knight and a sister of the Church – all the other women he had met had been the kin of Crusader lords. He was particularly concerned about Estrith’s status.
‘Madam, Muslims are very honourable men, especially towards noblewomen, but they may be less than worthy in their treatment of women who choose to travel alone. You may be more vulnerable than you realize.’
‘Your Majesty, you are generous in thinking of my safety, but we are bound to one another as brethren; where one goes, we all go.’
‘Very well, but I beseech you to take care, and your menfolk to look out for these two ladies.’
I could sense Adela stiffen next to me and I nudged her knee with mine to encourage her to hold her tongue, but it did no
t have the desired effect.
She clasped the hilt of her sword and straightened herself.
‘Majesty, we will all take care of Estrith.’
The Emperor looked annoyed at first – few people as lowly as a knight, particularly the oddity of a knight in female form, would have spoken directly to him before – but he soon smiled.
‘How fascinating; I would like to learn more, but I have matters to discuss.’
He then went through the details of the campaign as he saw it, outlining the specifics of the logistical support he planned and giving us the benefit of his vast combat experience against the Muslim armies. Worryingly, it soon became clear that he was already frustrated at the attitude of several of the more forthright Crusaders.
When he had finished, we thanked him profusely for his guidance and wisdom.
Robert then broached the subject we had waited so patiently to raise.
‘Your Majesty, Prince Edgar begs your indulgence; he has a question for you.’
‘Of course.’
‘Majesty, you wear an amulet on your belt. We think it is something we recognize, an object of great importance to us.’
‘I think you must be mistaken; it is a charm I bought many years ago from a trader in oriental treasures. It is from the lands far to the east.’
Once again, Adela had the temerity to speak up. I made to stop her, but the Emperor gestured for her to continue.
‘Your Majesty, the stone contains the image of the Devil and his familiars, entombed by a splash of the blood of Christ. It is called the Talisman of Truth. The last time I saw it, it was being worn by Estrith’s father, Hereward of Bourne. He and his wife, Torfida of the Wildwood, were the Talisman’s guardians.’
Crusade Page 27
