by Hilary Green
There was no choice but to do as he asked. Any other course would have meant a direct, armed confrontation with the men who were supposed to be their allies. With bad grace Bohemond wheeled his horse and led the way out of the city. Just beyond the gate they encountered Tancred, followed by his knights. A mass of foot soldiers pressed in behind them.
‘What are we waiting for?’ Tancred demanded. ‘Why have you turned back?’
Ranulph looked around him at the confused, angry faces and realised that discipline hung by a thread. A wrong word from Bohemond and the whole army would fall upon the occupying Byzantine force and there would be an internecine bloodbath.
Bohemond reined in his horse and drew himself erect in the saddle. ‘My friends, we have won a great victory!’ The cheers that followed sounded more like a howl of defiance. ‘But it is not our victory, but God’s. He has stretched out his arm and smitten our enemies, so that they have no longer the strength to resist. So let us now give thanks to Him to whom be all glory. Tonight there will be a great mass of thanksgiving. Tomorrow each one of you will be rewarded as befits his degree. But for now, return in peace to your tents and prepare your souls to worship Him to whom you owe your lives.’
Ranulph looked from the crowd to Bohemond, with heartfelt admiration. It was this ability to sway the minds of men that made him a great leader. Already most of them were meekly turning away and the danger was past.
Only Tancred was not convinced. He spurred his horse to Bohemond’s side and repeated, ‘What are we doing? We should be in the city, not sitting here while the emperor’s men help themselves.’
Ranulph could sense the effort of restraint in Bohemond’s reply. ‘The city belongs to the emperor and he wants to keep it intact. His men will not be helping themselves, if they value their skins.’
‘What is that to us? We have shed our blood to wrest it back from the Turks. Why should we not claim our reward?’
‘Because we have sworn an oath to restore to the emperor all the lands of which he is the rightful lord.’
‘You have sworn!’ The contempt in Tancred’s voice was unmistakable. ‘I have not, nor will I. My only fealty is to you, Uncle. I will not offer that to another man, no matter how I may be bribed.’
Bohemond’s eyes were steely. ‘Then I order you, on that fealty, to be silent. Go back to your men and keep them quiet, too. You have no understanding of what is at stake here.’
Tancred glowered at him for a moment, then he wrenched his horse’s head round and trotted back to his own camp.
Dismissed, Ranulph left Brand with Dino and went to the tent he shared with Marc. He found him lying on his bed, stripped, with Aymar bending over him with a wet cloth in his hand.
‘Are you badly wounded?’
Marc was pale but he managed a rueful smile. ‘Not really, just slightly scorched.’
Aymar lifted the wet cloth from Marc’s thigh. ‘The boiling pitch caught the skirt of his hauberk and heated the metal.’
Ranulph looked and sucked his teeth in sympathy. The heat had branded a pattern of inter-locking rings into his flesh. ‘I have a salve of myrrh and arnica that may help to soothe that. It was given me by one of the best physicians in Palermo.’
‘Save it,’ Marc said. ‘You may have greater need of it before we reach Jerusalem.’
Ranulph opened his chest and found the jar of salve. ‘Perhaps. Or I may be beyond the help of any salve. Here, Aymar. Spread some of this on the burn. Are you wounded anywhere else, Marc?’
‘Bruised, but otherwise whole,’ his friend said. ‘It seems I owe you my life – again. My thanks.’
Ranulph smiled. ‘No need. I intend to make a habit of it.’ He looked at the squire. ‘The horse?’
Aymar shook his head. ‘He was too badly hurt.’
‘The creature was in terrible pain,’ Marc said. ‘It was kinder to finish it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Ranulph shook his head. If it had been Brand he knew he would have been heart-broken.
Marc shrugged. ‘He was a good beast, but I shall find another, I expect. What is happening out there? Are we going to attack again?’
‘You haven’t heard? The city has surrendered to Alexios’s forces. While we were fighting at the gate they were busy making a treaty.’
‘What?’ Marc jerked into a sitting position. ‘Making a treaty behind our backs?’
‘So it seems. Oh, Tatikios told us to attack, but I think that was just a ploy, to make us think we had had a hand in the surrender. But it all happened too quickly. Boutoumites had hardly had time to breach the walls before his banners were flying from the citadel. I think it had all been agreed beforehand.’
‘Then all this,’ Marc indicated his leg, ‘was for nothing? And the men we have lost. I saw Hugh go down just before my horse was hit. Did he survive?’
Ranulph shook his head. ‘Robert brought his body back. His horse fell on him and broke his back.’
‘Then Alexios is as perfidious as some say.’
‘Perhaps not.’ Ranulph chewed his lip. ‘I may be wrong. Maybe that final attack was what tipped the balance. Perhaps they saw that they couldn’t stand against us indefinitely and preferred to commend themselves to the mercy of the emperor. At any rate, the siege is over and we have a victory – of sorts. Tatikios has forbidden us entry. Alexios doesn’t want his city sacked – and I can’t say I blame him.’
‘The men won’t like it.’
‘No, they don’t. Personally, I’m glad. I take no pleasure in seeing women and children terrorised and their houses looted.’
‘That’s all very well, but you know half the men only serve for the promise of booty.’
‘Bohemond has promised them largesse from the emperor, and meanwhile he bids us thank God for our victory. At least now we can head for Jerusalem.’
As Bohemond had promised, a great Mass was celebrated that evening by Bishop Adhemar of le Puy. The Te Deum was sung, and Non Nobis Domine. As the stars came out over the quiet city men’s voices were raised to heaven.
‘Non nobis, Domine, non nobis; sed nomine tuam da gloria.’
‘Not unto us, Lord, not unto us, but to Thy name give glory’.
6.
At dawn next morning Bohemond summoned his household knights and once more they rode up to the city gates, only to find they had been repaired and were closed and barred against them. At the sound of the herald’s trumpet a wicket gate opened and a captain in the Imperial army stepped out.
‘We wish to worship at the sacred churches in the city,’ Bohemond said. ‘After the battle it is only fitting that we should give thanks there.’
The captain bowed. ‘Most certainly, my lord. As you say, it is fitting and you and a small party of your knights are welcome to enter. But my Lord Boutoumites has instructed me to say that he begs you to restrict the number to no more than ten.’
‘Ten!’ Bohemond bellowed. ‘What does he imagine that we plan to do? Seize the city from him; desecrate the holy places? What? Are we allies or enemies? Are we not to be trusted?’
‘Forgive me, lord,’ the captain responded. ‘I have my orders and must obey them. But the lord Boutoumites instructed me also to say that he wishes to speak to you and the other princes in council and he will attend you at noon, if it so please you.’
Bohemond glowered at him for a moment longer, then he swung his horse round. ‘So be it. We will wait to see what this over-mighty general has to offer. Come!’
Boutoumites arrived as promised and was met with barely concealed hostility.
‘We have shed much blood and expended much treasure to achieve the city for your emperor,’ Raymond said. ‘And now we are refused entry, our numbers limited as if we were the enemy. On whose authority?’
‘On mine,’ Boutoumites responded, ‘since the emperor has appointed me as Duke to rule Nicea as his representative. But I am acting on his express orders. His excellency is concerned that a sudden influx of soldiers might spread panic and disorder among
the citizens, and possibly bring disease as well. The population has been much weakened by starvation during the siege.’
‘As have our forces!’ Raymond snapped. ‘And what have we to show for it? Where are the satraps who ruled the city under the Infidel? Their ransom should have swelled our coffers.’
‘They have already left under safe conduct. The emperor desired their presence, so he can take an oath of obedience from them. But, I pray you, do not think your sacrifices have gone unnoticed and will not be amply rewarded. The emperor is now encamped at Pelecanus and requests you to visit him there.’
‘Pelecanus!’ It was Stephen of Blois who interrupted. ‘Why should we go back there, when the way to Jerusalem lies open to us?’
‘The emperor desires to express his thanks to you, and his gratitude will be shown in many gifts of money and treasure.’
‘Then let us go to him,’ Bohemond said immediately. ‘A delay of a day or two will do our cause no harm, and as my lord of Toulouse has said, our resources are much depleted by this long siege. Besides, we are oath sworn to obey the emperor. It does not behove us to refuse.’
Ranulph looked at him and saw the ever-present desire for money in his eyes. It troubled him. He knew that only a portion of the treasure which he had been given in Constantinople had been spent so far, but he recognised that, as a man who has once experienced starvation cannot refuse food even when his belly is full, so Bohemond could never resist the promise of reward.
The other lords were almost equally keen to receive whatever the emperor was prepared to give, so the council came to a rapid end and preparations were made for the journey.
Alexios had set up camp on the island of Pelecanus and he received the Frankish counts seated in a magnificent pavilion, hung with silken drapes and with rich carpets spread on the floor. When the initial greetings and formalities had been completed he rose and snapped his fingers and a line of porters entered the tent, bowed down under the weight of cedar wood chests. From these Alexios took caskets containing gold pieces, jewelled coronets and collars, daggers and belts decorated with enamels and richly embroidered robes, which he distributed among the counts; and in addition he gave them chests containing copper coins, to be paid out to the ordinary soldiers. When everyone had received his share, the emperor resumed his throne.
‘It gives me great joy to see you all safe and well and to know that you have achieved a great victory. Soon you must depart for Jerusalem, but before that there is one further service I require of you. Many of you have already given me your oath of fealty, but there are some who have not. I now require that all those who have not sworn, do so.’
The minor lords, who had not so far given their oaths, had not shared in the distribution of wealth and had watched with growing envy. They all now came forward to kneel before Alexios and swear their oaths – all except Tancred, who stood apart watching proceedings with haughty disdain.
The emperor turned to him. ‘And you, too, my lord, must give me your oath.’
Tancred raised his chin defiantly. ‘I have given my oath already to my uncle, the lord Bohemond. I cannot give it to you without being forsworn.’
Bohemond stepped forward. ‘You can, and you will. I have myself, as you well know, become the emperor’s liege man. Since I am his and you are mine, you can give your oath without taint to your honour, or mine. I now command you to comply with His Excellency’s request.’
Ranulph saw Tancred’s gaze go from his uncle to the emperor and then back again. He flushed and then the colour ebbed from his face. It was clear that his pride would not allow him to accept defeat, yet he could see no alternative. Finally, he hit upon a demand that would allow him to obey his uncle without loss of face. He threw back his shoulders and faced Alexios with an insolent smile.
‘I have seen the emperor’s generosity to those he favours. He gave my uncle a room full of treasure as a reward for his fealty. If he will fill this tent with treasure and give it all to me, then I will swear.’
A gasp of horrified amazement went up from the courtiers surrounding Alexios and the assembled Franks alike. This swaggering defiance was too much for one of the emperor’s closest councillors, a man called Paleologos. He leapt forward and seized Tancred by the throat.
‘You insolent cur! How dare you make such demands. Down on your knees and beg the emperor’s mercy!’
Ranulph saw Tancred’s hand go to his sword hilt and started forward, but before he could reach the two men Alexios and Bohemond had acted simultaneously. Alexios rose from his throne and said in a voice that demanded instant obedience, ‘Paleologos, desist! Let the young man go!’
At the same instant Bohemond grabbed his nephew from behind, gripping both his wrists and twisting them behind his back. ‘Now!’ he ground into the boy’s ear, ‘you will swear! I command it, on your oath to me and, by God, if you do not you will live to regret it!’
Tancred shook himself loose and fell to his knees before Alexios. His face was scarlet with rage and humiliation, but he swore the oath as required; and when he had done Alexios raised him to his feet and kissed him on both cheeks as warmly as if it had been freely given. There was no tent full of treasure, but Tancred was as richly rewarded as any of the others – indeed there were mutterings among some of the lesser lords that his share had been greater then theirs.
That night they were entertained to a feast that was even more sumptuous than the one they had enjoyed in Constantinople. When they had eaten and the wine cups had been refilled yet again Stephen of Blois rose, slightly unsteadily, to his feet.
‘Tomorrow we leave for Jerusalem. God willing, we shall be there before the autumn leaves fall – unless we have trouble with Antioch. To Jerusalem!’
He raised his goblet and the rest of the Franks rose and raised theirs.
‘To Jerusalem!’
Only Ranulph remained seated, gazing into the wine in his goblet, seeing instead the city as he had last known it, girt with walls and set against the mountains. ‘Oh, they would have trouble with Antioch! There was no question about that.’
The column of mounted knights, foot soldiers and wagons wound slowly up the road that climbed from the coastal plain onto the high plateau of the Sultanate of Rhum. Bohemond was in the lead. Ranulph, riding close behind him, twisted in his saddle to look back and was glad that he did not have to breathe the dust raised by hundreds of horses’ hooves and tramping feet. There were several thousand men, women and even children in the column; but it was not the vast horde that had left Nicaea five days earlier. At Lucae it had been decided to divide their forces again, as the countryside was unable to support such huge numbers. Bohemond, together with Godfrey of Bouillon, Robert of Normandy, and Tancred had taken the eastern route while the remainder of the army, under Raymond of Toulouse and Bishop Adhemar, stayed closer to the coast. The plan was to rendezvous near the ancient city of Dorylaeum, which lay now less than a day’s march ahead.
Bohemond had immediately requested the honour of leading the vanguard and the other counts had been happy to accede. No one knew what dangers lay ahead or where Kilij Arslan and his army might be. Ranulph had no regrets about the decision. As he had remarked to Marc, ‘I would rather be in the lead, with a commander who recognises the danger and takes reasonable precautions, than follow some one less experienced into an ambush.’
A flash of light from somewhere above and to his right made him look up sharply, seeking the source. For a moment his gaze searched the long ridge that ran parallel to the road, then he relaxed. The flash was the reflection of the sun on armour, from of one of a small group of mounted men who were shadowing their progress, but they wore the colours of Bohemond’s retinue. Looking to his left, Ranulph made out the distant shapes of another group on the opposite ridge. They were scouts despatched by Bohemond to give warning of any enemy movement ahead. The absence of any signal meant that so far they had seen no danger.
They crested the last rise and came to the junction of two valleys at
the edge of the plateau. The road followed the course of a river, which local people told them was called the Thymbre. Until now it had rushed and foamed down the valley but here it changed its character, winding in lazy meanders across the plain. On either side, fertile fields were green with early crops of wheat and barley, while further away the ground was more broken and thickly forested. In the distance, Ranulph could see the ruined walls and turrets of Dorylaeum.
They had ridden barely half a mile when they heard the sound of a horse ridden at the gallop and one of the scouts dragged his sweating mount to a standstill beside Bohemond.
‘Sire, the army of the Turks must be near at hand. We encountered their scouts on the ridge where the two valleys meet. We would have engaged with them but they rode hard back into the valley. We did not follow, thinking it best to come and tell you.’
Even as he spoke, a sound arose from somewhere among the trees away to their left, a piercing ululation which they had come to recognise as the battle cry of the Turks. From behind, Ranulph heard an answering noise, the shouts of men and the screams of women, and turning he saw that the ragged convoy following was beginning to break up in panic.
Bohemond raised an arm in the command to halt, and rose in his stirrups to survey the area. Then he turned to his standard bearer. ‘We will make camp here, in the bend of the river. That will give us protection to the sides and rear. Make the usual preparations for defence. Get the wagons and the non-combatants together in the centre, infantry round the perimeter, archers behind them. See it done quickly.’
As Robert cantered away Ranulph turned to Dino, who was following as always. ‘Bring up Brand.’
The boy jumped off his mule and ran forward, leading the black destrier. Ranulph swung down from his palfrey and vaulted into Brand’s saddle. Around him the rest of the knights were changing horses and ramming on their helmets. Seconds later a swarm of Turkish horsemen galloped out of the trees at the mouth of the valley. Without checking their headlong pace, they drew arrow after arrow from the quivers on their backs, nocked them to the bowstring and fired. There was no time for the Frankish knights to form the tight formation in which they had trained to fight. The Turks were amongst them, breaking the line apart, surrounding them in a whirling maelstrom of men and horses. Ranulph drew his sword and urged Brand forward, slashing to right and left at heads and arms as they flew past. Arrows thudded into his shield and rebounded from his chain mail with a force that told him that without armour he would have been dead in minutes. He was aware of Marc to his left, pirouetting his horse on its haunches in a vain attempt to keep his face towards his attackers. The mare he rode had been bought from a fellow knight when his own mount was killed and she was young and inexperienced, and he was having difficulty keeping her under control. Ranulph touched Brand with his spurs so that the big horse plunged forward, shouldering aside two of the wiry ponies ridden by the Turks, and forged his way to his friend’s side. ‘Nose to tail!’ he yelled. Marc understood and they pulled their horses together so they could shield each other.
