God's Warrior

by Hilary Green

  They reached Constantinople around midday two days later. Ranulph had heard the city described many times, but nothing had prepared him for the reality. The walls stretched away in either direction until they were lost from sight. They were the most formidable defences he had ever seen. First the travellers and their escort crossed a wide moat, protected on the far side by a crenellated parapet; then they found themselves facing a wall which by Ranulph’s reckoning was easily the height of five men. They passed through a gate protected by towers on either side and then, to his amazement, came to an inner wall even higher and thicker than the first, punctuated at intervals with more massive towers from whose crenellated roof platforms guards armed with bows looked down. Once through the gate in this second wall they entered a broad avenue running along the crest of a ridge of hills and Ranulph caught his breath in wonder. The city fell away on either side, street after street, until it was bounded in both directions by the sea. Among the buildings rose the domes of many churches, gilded by the sun; but it was the sheer extent of the city that amazed him. In all his experience he had never been in one even a tenth of the size.

  Further marvels awaited them. To their left rose a long, arched construction which one of the escort told him was the remains of the Roman aqueduct which brought water into the city. They came to a huge circus and there before them was one of the great wonders of the world, the vast dome of the basilica of St. Sophia, seeming to float above them as if aspiring to reach heaven. To their right was a curving wall which must, it seemed to Ranulph, enclose a large space.

  ‘What is that building?’ he asked one of the escort.

  ‘The hippodrome,’ he answered. ‘Where the ancient Romans once ran their chariot races.’

  Beyond the hippodrome they came to the walls enclosing the palace area. Inside the gates they dismounted and a man who introduced himself as the emperor’s chief steward greeted them with deep obeisances.

  ‘Pray follow me. The Emperor awaits you.’

  Ranulph glanced round, hoping to catch the eye of the officer who had spoken to him with such condescension on the first evening, but he and his men were already moving away. He looked at Bohemond, trying to assess his reaction, but he seemed unsurprised, as if he regarded this immediate audience as no more than his due. They followed the steward into the palace and passed through corridors floored with marble and hung with rich tapestries, until the man flung open a door and stood back to let them pass. This was not the great audience chamber the officer had described, but a simple room with white walls and windows looking onto a garden. At the far end stood a throne on a low dais and Ranulph realised with awe that he was in the presence of the heir to the great Caesars of antiquity, the ruler of the Eastern Roman Empire.

  The Emperor rose and came forward. ‘My Lord Bohemond, welcome to Constantinople! We have anxiously awaited your arrival.’

  Alexios Comnenos was not a tall man, but Ranulph was immediately impressed with a sense of power. This was partly physical, conveyed by the broad shoulders and muscular arms, but came mainly from the commanding gaze of the dark eyes.

  Bohemond made a deep bow. ‘Your Excellency is most kind. Pray allow me to present my companions.’

  As each of them was presented in turn Ranulph could not suppress an inner quiver of amusement. He understood now why Bohemond preferred to use the services of an interpreter. The Emperor had spoken in Greek and he had responded in the same language. He was fluent enough, as Ranulph had been told, but his accent was appalling.

  When each of them had made their obeisances Alexios turned back to Bohemond.

  ‘So, my lord. We meet again. Last time we faced each other as enemies. Now I hope we may be friends.’

  ‘It is my dearest wish, Your Excellency,’ the Count responded. ‘I hereby promise you my aid, to the utmost of my power, in the great enterprise you have in hand.’

  ‘It is all I could ask or hope for,’ the Emperor said. ‘Now, you must be tired after your haste to reach our presence. Go and rest. A house has been prepared for you and food. If there is ought else you require, make it known to my steward and it shall be supplied.’

  The steward led them to a building just outside the palace walls.. Here they were ushered into a room where a long table was set with great dishes of food and bowls overflowing with fruits in varieties Ranulph remembered from his travels but had not seen since.

  Bohemond prowled round the table, sniffing suspiciously at one dish after another.

  ‘You, Ranulph, must be familiar with these eastern concoctions. What have we here?’

  Ranulph approached the table. ‘I recognise some of it, my lord, but not all.’ He lifted the lid of a dish and a waft of spicy steam transported him back eight years. So powerful was the impression that it was a moment before he was able to speak. ‘This, I think, is the meat of the wild ass, considered a great delicacy here.’

  ‘It stinks!’ Bohemond said.

  ‘It is flavoured with rosemary and a spice they call nutmeg. The flavour is unusual, but very pleasant once you get used to it. This,’ lifting another lid, ‘is called botargo. It is the eggs of a fish, salted.’

  ‘The eggs of a fish?’ Robert Fitzgerald exclaimed in disbelief. ‘Can these fish fly too?’

  ‘What is this?’ Bohemond picked a fruit from the dish.

  ‘A lemon, my lord. We grow them in Sicily. Have you not seen one before? They are ...’

  Before Ranulph could offer a warning Bohemond raised the lemon to his mouth and bit into it. His face contorted, he choked and spat. ‘By the mass, the Emperor means to poison me! I’ll fast till we get food I can trust. The rest of you can eat if you wish.’

  ‘Surely, my lord, you cannot be unfamiliar with these flavours?’ Ranulph said. ‘I myself imported them into Italy, in my days as a merchant. They are highly prized in the great houses of Europe.’

  ‘Not in mine!’ Bohemond responded.’Give me plain, honest food. I’ve no taste for these eastern messes.’

  It was useless for Ranulph to try to explain or persuade any further. In the hope that his example might be enough to convince them he helped himself to some of the roasted ass’s meat and poured a goblet of wine sweetened with honey and spiced with cinnamon. The rest of the party watched him closely, and when he showed no ill-effects one or two tried a few mouthfuls, but wrinkled their noses at the unfamiliar flavours and pushed the food away. When servants came to remove the dishes they withdrew in some consternation and soon after that the Chief Steward returned, looking flustered.

  ‘The food does not meet with your approval. I am deeply sorry.’

  Ranulph saw Bohemond’s brows draw down in a manner he knew was the precursor to an explosion. Before the Count could accuse the emperor of plotting to poison him, he put in quickly, ‘My lord’s taste is for plain food. Perhaps something less highly seasoned …?

  ‘I have brought raw meat, the flesh of deer and pigs. If you will tell the cooks how to prepare it they will cook it to your taste,’ the steward said. ‘Please accept my humble apologies.’

  He snapped his fingers and men appeared with a charcoal brazier and dishes laden with cuts of meat. Soon the company was tucking in to the plain roast dishes they were used to and Bohemond, having watched the cooking with hawk eyes, fell to with the rest.

  The following morning they were summoned to the audience chamber again, but this time only Ranulph and Robert accompanied the Count. Alexios greeted them cordially, enquiring solicitously after Bohemond’s health; then he resumed his throne and waved Bohemond to a chair close by. A scribe with a writing tablet stood to one side and a page waited behind his throne, but otherwise the emperor was unattended.

  ‘My lord,’ Alexios began, ‘as you are no doubt aware, many great lords, counts and dukes, are already encamped with their armies around the city. Your forces, as I understand it, are small in comparison.’

  ‘True, your excellency. But what matters in war is not the numbers but the quality and training of the m
en, and you have witnessed at first hand that my army is second to none.’

  ‘It is so, which is why I am addressing myself particularly to you. I am, I confess, a little troubled by the lack of discipline among some of the other armies and the haughty spirit of their leaders. I do not know if you have heard of it, but I have already had to employ force to persuade Count Godfrey of Bouillon to embark his men to cross the Hellespont to the quarters prepared for them. He had the temerity to mount an attack against the walls of the city.’

  ‘A fruitless enterprise,’ Bohemond remarked dryly.

  ‘So he discovered, and his men are now safely installed in their camp. But there are other proud and unruly elements among you Franks and I must be sure that, when the expedition finally sets out, the towns and villages liberated from the Turks will be returned to their rightful overlord – myself. I therefore require from each commander an oath of fealty, such as is common practice among the Franks, as I understand it.’

  Ranulph felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. To ask Bohemond to bow the knee and become the liegeman of a foreign potentate was like asking a lion to accept a bridle. He waited for him to storm out of the chamber, but instead the Count seemed to be considering the proposal.

  ‘You are worried about possible dissension among the leaders of our enterprise, and that some of them may have designs on the lands we conquer. You have seen that I am a man who can command the loyalty and respect of soldiers. Make me supreme commander over all the Frankish forces and I will swear my loyalty to you as my liege lord. That way, all these others will also come under your sway.’

  ‘You cunning devil!’ Ranulph thought, but he could not suppress a twinge of admiration.

  Alexios regarded Bohemond in silence for a moment with a faint smile on his lips and it struck Ranulph that where cunning was concerned the Count had met his match.

  ‘I fear that there will be some among the princes who find that hard to accept. Besides, there are those who have already sworn and so are directly bound to me.’

  ‘Already sworn! Who?’

  ‘Lord Hugh of Vermandois, the brother of the King of France no less, and Count Stephen of Blois among others. And they have been well rewarded – as you will be.’

  ‘With land?’

  ‘Not so far. The land remains to be conquered. But gold and silver I have at my disposal in goodly quantities.’

  Ranulph watched his lord’s face. He knew very well that Bohemond had received no patrimony from his father and relied on his wits and his skill in war to maintain his position. The promise of wealth would be a potent temptation.

  Bohemond considered in silence for a moment. Then he said, ‘When we do conquer your lands, you will require men of courage and strength to hold it for you. Promise me the overlordship of Antioch when it is conquered and I will be your man.’

  Alexios’s smile deepened. ‘There is a saying, is there not, that it is a foolish man who sells the bear’s pelt before he has killed the bear? But let us agree that once Antioch is conquered you will not find me ungrateful.’

  Bohemond hesitated a moment longer. Then he rose to his feet. ‘I will take the oath.’

  Alexios looked at Ranulph and Robert. ‘You will be witness to this.’ He turned to the page behind his throne.’Tell them to bring the relic.’

  The boy went out and a moment later two priests in black robes entered. One of them carried a golden monstrance encrusted with precious stones.

  ‘This monstrance contains a fragment of the true cross,’ Alexios said. ‘You will swear to me on this.’

  Ranulph shivered. He longed to kneel before the holy relic, to be allowed to touch it. He had heard that the cross on which the Saviour died had been brought to Constantinople by the Emperor Justinian, but he had never dreamed of being so close to a fragment of that sacred wood.

  Bohemond knelt before Alexios and placed his hands between those of the Emperor. ‘I here become your liege man of life and limb.’

  ‘And I as your lord promise you my protection against all enemies. Swear now on this holy relic.’

  The priest knelt and offered Bohemond the monstrance. He laid his hand on it and repeated the oath of allegiance. ‘I promise on my faith that I will in the future be faithful to my lord, never cause him harm and will observe my homage to him completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit.’

  He kissed the monstrance. The priest withdrew and Alexios leaned down from his throne and kissed him on both cheeks. The act of homage was complete.

  Ranulph followed Bohemond out of the audience chamber with a mixture of emotions. He was amazed that Bohemond had been prepared to subjugate his pride and unsure about his motives. If it was purely for the purpose of removing any obstacle to the furtherance of their great cause, then it was to be admired; but he was troubled by Bohemond’s request for the overlordship of Antioch. Surely the conquest of Antioch was but a stepping stone on the way to their true objective, the city of Jerusalem? Then there was Alexios’s enigmatic response. He found himself wondering how far the emperor could be trusted.

  As they left the room the Chief Steward was waiting for them.

  ‘Will it please you to follow me, my lord? The emperor has instructed me to show you something.’

  They followed him along several passageways and then down a flight of stairs. At the bottom a door was guarded by two soldiers. Ranulph experienced a jolt of apprehension. Had the ceremony he had just witnessed been an elaborate charade? Was Alexios about to take his revenge on Bohemond by throwing them all into prison?

  The steward unlocked the door and threw it open.

  ‘Pray enter, my lord.’

  Bohemond stepped forward and then halted on the threshold. Looking over his shoulder Ranulph saw why. It was impossible to enter the room because the entire floor was occupied by low tables and carved chests. The table tops were covered with an array of goblets and salvers and candle holders in gold and silver, many of them beautifully chased and studded with precious gems. Two of the chests overflowed with gleaming bezants, the pure gold coins which Alexios had introduced to rectify the debasement of the Byzantine coinage. From the open lids of others protruded jewelled collars and belts and daggers, while from others again hung swathes of rich silks in vivid colours. The walls of the room were hung with carpets woven with pictures of strange animals or abstract designs in rich hues. Ranulph remembered that Alexios had promised Bohemond riches in exchange for his oath and he presumed that the royal treasury had been thrown open for him to select his reward.

  Bohemond stared into the room. ‘By the Mass! If I possessed wealth like this I could conquer half the world!’

  The steward made a sweeping gesture.’ All this is yours, my lord, in return for your loyalty.’

  From behind him Ranulph heard Robert gasp. Bohemond stared at the steward. ‘All?’

  ‘All, my lord.’

  Bohemond edged his way between the chests and lifted a jewelled circlet from one of them. From another he extracted a richly embroidered saddle cloth tasselled with gold. He began to laugh, softly at first then with a great, deep belly laugh that echoed round the room.

  ‘Here!’ He grabbed a handful of bezants and flung them in Ranulph’s direction. ‘Help yourself!’

  Ranulph made no attempt to pick up the coins. ‘You are generous, my lord, but I have no need of these.’

  ‘No need? No need?’ Bohemond’s face reddened as if he suspected an insult.

  The steward stepped in smoothly. ‘I can assure you, my lord, that all your men will be well rewarded. I have instructions to distribute the emperor’s largesse to all those who have rallied to his cause. Now, I will have all this transported to your house. Leave everything to me.’

  Bohemond recovered himself . ‘Pray tell the emperor I thank him for his munificence.’

  On the way back to the house where they were quartered Bohemond did not speak. He seemed dazed by the magnitude of the emperor’s gift. Once there he
began to pace the floor, his brows drawn down as if he was angry.

  ‘You’d think he’d be pleased,’ Robert murmured. ‘He’s never likely to see that much treasure again.’

  Ranulph nodded, watching his lord thoughtfully. Was it possible that his own rejection of the money thrown at him was causing him to have second thoughts?

  There was a rap at the door and the steward entered, followed by a train of porters bearing chests. They set them down and began to open them and display the contents. Suddenly Bohemond rounded on them.

  ‘Does your master think I can be bought? He dishonours me to suggest that my loyalty depends on payment. Take this away and tell him I will have none of it.’

  The steward shrank away from him in dismay, then turned and hastened out of the house. The porters stood uncertainly in the middle of the treasures they had spread on the floor, then they began slowly to repack the chests. Bohemond picked his way among them, picking up a gold cup here, a jewel-encrusted candle holder there. It was clear he was struggling between his sense of honour and his natural cupidity.

  The steward returned. ‘The Emperor sends you this message. We have a proverb. Let bad things return to their master. He begs that you will receive the goods in the spirit in which they are offered.’

  Bohemond’s frown deepened, then his face cleared. ‘I understand the sense of the proverb. I will not insult the emperor by sending his magnificent gift back to him.’ He turned and smiled at the porters. ‘Put them in the chests, lads, and take them all through to the inner room. There’s a drink for you all when you’ve finished.’

  That evening they were all bidden to dine with the emperor. In the great hall other Norman lords were already taking their places at benches around the long table. Some of them Ranulph recognised, others were strangers to him. Alexios entered and the company rose, but Ranulph’s attention was focussed not on the Emperor but on the men behind him. The royal bodyguard consisted of six men and it was their appearance that transfixed Ranulph. All six were tall and massively built; all had blonde hair worn long to their shoulders and blonde beards; and all were armed not with swords but with axes. His earliest memories were of men like these, the warriors oath-sworn to his father; and years later he had served with others like them, in his time as a mercenary. How they came to be members of the royal bodyguard of the emperor of the eastern world he could not imagine. As he stared, one of them, who seemed to be the captain, turned towards him as if drawn by his gaze, and Ranulph jerked backwards so violently that he almost upset the bench behind him. He was staring into the face of Leofric, the man who had called him a traitor and driven him out of the mercenary band. It was twelve years since they last met, but it was clear from the curl of his lip that Leofric had recognised him. Any pleasure he might have felt on recognising his fellow countrymen was immediately replaced by a stab of guilt. If his fellow soldiers had thought him a traitor then, what would they think of him now, serving as he was under the command of a Norman, one of the hated conquerors of their country?