by Bell, Gradyn
Sensing that something was watching him, he swivelled around in his saddle to see a pair of beady little eyes staring at him. The boar was enormous, his tusks long and pointed. Amaury sat frozen, not knowing or caring about which direction the wind was blowing. He knew that he was in terrible danger and that his next move might cost him his life. He could hear the sound of the hunt in the distance—the hounds were baying with excitement and the hunting horns echoed hollowly back through the forest. There would be no help from that direction!
Slowly he withdrew the small sword he always carried so proudly. His small palfrey sidestepped nervously. She, too, recognised the danger she was in. With a loud squeal, the boar hurled himself towards Amaury. Bravely, the young boy tried to turn his horse to meet the charge of the huge beast. As he bent down to stab the animal between its eyes, he knew he had only one chance. The boar, however, seemed intent on attacking the horse and buried its tusks into the animal’s side. The palfrey screamed in agony as she rolled over, trying to dislodge the tusks. Blood began to spurt from her side.
Amaury seized his chance and drove the small weapon into the space between the boar’s eyes. As it rolled away from him, the boy could smell the animal’s foetid breath. He shuddered as he watched the great beast die. With legs shaking he turned finally to his little mare, manfully trying to stop the tears which rolled down his face. Her wounds were huge and she was losing blood at a rapid rate. Amaury knew she was doomed and that it was his fault.
The sound of hounds crashing through the undergrowth made him look up to see his father riding towards him as though the devil himself were after him. Simon threw himself from his horse and grabbed hold of Amaury. “Are you injured? Are you hurt?”
Amaury shook his head mutely and pointed to the palfrey that lay bleeding. Simon motioned to one of his men, who swiftly drove his sword through the poor beast’s eye, putting it out of its misery. The rest of the hunt had ridden up by now and they crowded around Amaury, congratulating him on his skill. Amaury felt anything but proud; his disobedience had been responsible for the death of his horse. He recoiled from the congratulatory slaps on the back and did not wish to see the butchering of the beast he had killed. He knew he wouldn’t eat any of it later on, either.
On the ride back to where they would spend the night, Simon praised Amaury for his bravery and told him there were few eight-year-olds who had lived to tell the tale of such disobedience. It was true he had faced the danger bravely, but it was also true that he had put himself in grave danger. For this Simon would punish him with a beating for although Amaury had developed the notion that he knew better than his elders, he still had a great deal to learn. Disobedience could well cost a life; if not his own, perhaps that of a companion.
Amaury withstood his beating stoically, knowing full well he deserved every stroke. The thought that he had let his father down caused him more distress than the flogging itself. He was sent to bed early and so did not hear the pride in his father’s voice later that evening when the tale was recounted to their host over dinner. It had been no small feat for a boy to stand up to an animal that far outweighed him. Simon’s main concern was what Alicia would say when she heard about the affair. There would be no hiding it from her because the whole business would be the talk of the estate. It would raise anew the question of Amaury’s trip to Venice.
It took several days to get to Thibaut and discover that the envoys had not yet returned from Venice. The negotiations had been bogged down under several disagreements, but Thibaut had high hopes that all would be arranged by the winter. Simon was none too pleased and made no bones about the fact. He most certainly did not want to set out during the worst weather of the year, and knew it would now be the following year before they could begin.
Thibaut had greeted them expansively, all the more so because his young wife had just been brought to bed of a new baby girl. “Come and see Blanche and the baby.” He was justly proud since this was his first child.
“We are to have another soon,” Simon said. “Alicia hopes for a girl this time. We thought I would not be here for the birth, but it looks now as though I will be. She’s to be brought to bed in Advent, so God willing, there will be another de Montfort present at this year’s Christmas celebrations.” He hurriedly crossed himself. Although he could not bear the thought of losing Alicia, his bravery extended only to the battlefield and he wished no part of the actual birthing. As he had done in the past, he would arrange a day or two’s hunting so as to be near enough but not too near!
“Well, there won’t be any point in leaving until next spring, now,” Thibaut said. “We’ll travel much faster if the weather is good. There’s nothing worse than an army on the march in the pouring rain. It lowers the men’s morale to be wet all the time.”
Simon fervently agreed with him, despite being anxious to get the whole thing underway. Always ready to do battle, he was impatient when obstacles stood in his way.
“I have heard from Villehardouin and the other five we sent,” Thibaut continued. “They are haggling over the cost, which, as it stands, will be eighty five thousand marks for the whole thirty thousand of us if we all arrive in Venice. That’s four marks per horse and two marks per man. They have offered us fifty armed galleys because they love God, they say, but we have to give them a half of every conquest of land we make and a half of any booty we take. The price is steep, but they have us in an arm lock. No other port is able to supply us at any cost and therefore I think we must accept the terms. I have sent messengers to all who will accompany me to get their agreement. I have your consent, I take it?” Thibaut looked at Simon, who nodded on behalf of himself and his men. “Good. Then we only have to wait for the agreement of the others, which shouldn’t be too many more weeks. In the meantime, we can hunt and sharpen the men’s skills to keep them up to standard.”
Simon did his best not to look aggrieved, but the thought of another six months of inactivity did not sit well with him. He knew one person would be content—Alicia would be delighted that he would be there for the birth of their third child. She would also be happy at the thought of keeping Amaury at home a while longer; she need not worry about him while she was giving birth, something she had confessed she would be dreading.
Although most of the Crusaders, the knights at least, would be driven by deep religious convictions, it must be said that there were often ulterior motives that drove them to risk life and limb, not the least of which was the prospect of the land they could capture and the potential of monetary gain. This was not as mercenary an objective as may be thought at first, because it cost a great deal to mount a Crusade. For this reason, precise lists were made of all who left on the journey so that widows and orphans could be suitably taken care of should husbands and fathers not return. Younger sons, who could not expect to inherit much in the way of estates, often went to seek their fortunes. Simon and his friends had no real need to take the cross for this purpose. Although they were happy to accept what gains could be made, they were rich enough to bear the cost of such an undertaking and, indeed, had not much desire at this time to extend their domains abroad.
While on a Crusade, the participants were under a plenary indulgence for all sins that they committed and might commit. This gave many of the Crusaders the freedom to rape and pillage as they thought fit with no regard for the humanity they destroyed. Simon had already warned his followers that although the Pope had already forgiven them their sins before they committed them, he would not be so forgiving. He expected all his knights to treat their captives in the same courteous manner as they would the people on their own estates.
A little girl, Pernel de Montfort, was born in the last week of Advent. There was a great deal of rejoicing on the de Montfort estates. Unlike many of the nobility, they welcomed girls into their family as well as boys. They were well aware that a judicious marriage could enlarge their estates, and girls were often married to close relatives to preserve and enlarge a domain.
Pernel, named after Simon’s aunt, would be baptised in the chapel of the castle. The godparents were illustrious—one of them was Thibaut, and another the daughter of the King of France. Thibaut himself was the premier ranking nobleman in the area. Although still young, he was related to much of Europe’s royalty and was stupendously powerful. It was a coup of sorts to have him stand as godfather to the little girl.
The organisation for the ceremony and the feasting afterwards were well in hand. With such distinguished guests, it would be a huge and costly event, but nothing could daunt Simon’s spirits. Word had come that the envoys to Venice had finally made an agreement with the Doge, the leader of the Venetians, for the supply of all the ships. It only remained for the ceremony of baptism to take place, and within a few weeks the army would muster and begin the overland journey to the Italian port.
All the fine plans went for nought, however, as the next messenger to the castle at Montfort brought with him a bombshell. Thibaut was dead at the age of twenty-four, taken by the dreaded disease typhoid. It was rampant in his palace; several of his retainers had also been smitten. Thankfully, Thibaut’s wife, heavily pregnant her second child, and her small daughter, had been spared. The palace in Troyes where he had died was now in full mourning with Blanche ready to give birth at any moment.
Before he had succumbed to the disease, Thibaut on his deathbed had asked his friend Renard of Dampierre and Villehardouin, his marshal newly returned from Venice, to take up his vow to go on the Crusade, which was now without a leader. Several nobles were asked to take the lead, but even Thibaut’s cousin refused and it fell to an Italian, The Count of Monferat, to take the reins. It was all done in a great hurry, as the Crusade looked set to die before it could begin. Indeed, no one could blame Simon for thinking that the Crusade was cursed from the beginning. He would now have to choose someone else’s banner under which to travel! All the delays the Doge of Venice and his machinations caused by raising the costs of carrying the soldiers to the Holy Land seemed unimportant now. The last thing anyone had expected was that Thibaut would be struck down by a mortal illness at his young age.
Time was passing quickly; it was already May, and Simon could foresee yet another winter of discontent looming in the foreground. They had already cancelled the extensive arrangements for baby Pernel’s baptism, and a small private christening was held instead. So it was that a few days later on a fine morning towards the end of May, Simon and his men, together with Amaury, finally rode out from Montfort, heading for the port of Venice.
Chapter Eight
Venice
1202 – 1203 AD
The Crusaders
Venice was a fiasco, and Simon de Montfort was furious, to say the least.
“Where is this Doge?” he shouted while striding up and down the hall where he was billeted with some of his men. To hear Simon de Montfort in a temper was a frightening thing!
“I would speak with him myself!” he railed, looking about him, his face a scarlet mask of rage. “What right has he to keep us locked up here on this island? We have been here too long already. How long does he expect us to cool our heels?”
The knights who gathered around him looked troubled. “My lord,” one of them said, “the Doge demands payment for the transport of the army, as we agreed last year. He has provided the ships and transports for the number of men and horses he was told we would bring. We thought there would be at least thirty thousand of us, but there are scarcely twenty thousand here. Some have gone to other ports and others have just not come. Perhaps it would be politic to confront His Excellency ourselves.”
Simon didn’t appear to have heard him and continued to fume, his face contorted with anger. “Where is this old man? What scheme is this? Why is he hiding from us? We must see him and ask that he release us from this…this hellhole! I have said this whole damned business has been cursed from its start!”
His description of the island of St. Nicholas was apt. With its population swollen by a very discontented army, it was as terrible a set of surroundings as ever any army had endured, and they had been languishing there for nearly a year.
“My men are suffering and losing the will to fight. They have far exceeded their duty to the Holy Father and could not be blamed if they all went home, though that would be difficult. Half of them are hungry, and their horses deteriorate daily.”
One of the bolder knights stepped forward. Very few wished to draw attention to themselves while Simon was in this frame of mind. “I will go, my lord. Perhaps if we go as a group he will see our strength of feeling.”
“I will go myself and see what the old robber is about! You may accompany me.” He surveyed the other men. “I need four more of you. You are right; a delegation will look more impressive than a single messenger.” Wearier than he cared to admit, he rubbed his eyes. He had spent many sleepless nights thinking about their plight, incarcerated as they were on this small island adjacent to Venice.
“If only Thibaut were leading this affair,” he said, calmer now that some action to resolve the matter had been agreed. “The Count of Monferat may be a good soldier and a patron of the arts, but he is no leader, even though he is a cousin of the king. The Doge’s men have run circles around him. I think a monkey could have negotiated a better settlement. I find it hard to believe that he allowed us to be led into this trap and that the agreement did not take into account that fewer of us might turn up. He always said he had no time for the Doge, but he has played right into his hands. I am beginning to wonder what is going on that is not immediately apparent to us. You cannot ever underestimate the Doge. He’s far too wily, even at his age.”
By now Simon was feeling a good deal calmer than he had in the previous half-hour and his face had resumed its normal colour. It took him only a short time to choose some of his most reliable friends from the group gathered there, and accompanied by them, he set off to demand an audience with that consummate politician, the cunning Doge of Venice.
If Simon had been angry before he left, he was choleric when he returned. Calling together the other leaders of the Crusade, he informed them that the Doge had told him they would be kept on the island until they had paid the original agreed sum. There was nothing they could do but accede to the sly old man’s demands. They were stuck on an island with no boats. Food and fresh water for themselves and their animals were in very short supply.
After a great deal of arguing amongst themselves—with Simon vowing to take revenge on the old Doge—it was decided that if each knight paid four marks plus four marks for each horse, each esquire paid two marks, and the common soldiers each paid one mark, a compromise might be reached. Disappointingly, even when the all this extra money was added together, it still amounted to less than the agreed sum.
“What are we to do?” Geoffrey de Joinville, Simon’s friend who had been one of the first to take the cross back in Ecry (how long ago that seemed!), asked with an air of despair.
“We will take him the money we have and see what transpires,” Simon replied. “Powerful as he is, he will not wish to anger the Pope by keeping his holy army prisoner on this island.”
The meeting with the Doge and his emissaries was as heated as a meeting could be with a man who was nearly ninety and almost blind. There was no doubt, however, that he was in full possession of the rest of his faculties and he drove a hard bargain.
“You have imposed upon us very shamefully,” he told Simon and his companions. “None of our merchants has made a voyage since our agreement. I ordered them all to stay and help make ready the fleet. They have been waiting ever since, for nearly a year and a half, and they have lost a great deal of business! Therefore, you must pay us what we owe before you can leave the island. We have kept our side of the bargain. It is not our fault that many of your Crusaders have gone to other ports. And what’s more, no one shall bring your men any food or drink until you clear your debt to us!”
Simon was beside himself with fury and contained his indignatio
n only when he felt Geoffrey’s cautioning hand on his shoulder. “Messire Doge, what do you think the Holy Father is going to say when his army begins to die of hunger and thirst?”
“Perhaps the Holy Father would like to contribute from his personal coffers. I understand they are very full at the moment.” The old man could not conceal the crafty look that passed across his face. There was a well known rivalry, not to mention animosity, between the two men, each grudging any power held by the other. No one could deny that the Doge was powerful; under his guidance and rule, Venice had become one of the biggest trading ports in the world.
Simon and his friends returned to the camp much chastened. Had they been dogs, their tails would have been between their legs.
“What are we to do now?” The question hung in the air.
Finally one of the less senior knights spoke up. “Perhaps we could try another collection. Someone may lend us some money,” he added hopefully.
The next collection, though, was a complete failure. Everyone had already given what they could and the army was now dismally impoverished, with scarcely enough left to support itself.
“I refuse to go back to that old rascal’s palace and beg again,” Simon said. “Let him come here. There must be a solution to this matter. It is reaching the realms of the ridiculous. Even the Doge must see that we cannot give him what we do not have!”
When the Doge received the invitation to speak once more to the assembled knights in an attempt to solve the financial impasse, he accepted with more than his usual alacrity. He had begun to see that if he refused to help this army of pilgrims and soldiers of Christ, the rest of the Christian world would consider him to be less than reliable. Besides, he had another agenda that wouldn’t become known to the leaders of the Crusade until later!
