Soldier of Crusade

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The progress of the Christian army and their attendant pilgrims had been slow because of its size and the obstacles of terrain; crossing the anti-Taurus mountains over a single track in unseasonal mist and lashing rain had incurred heavy losses, especially of pack animals and their loads, which brought back hunger almost as acute as the Anatolian desert. Such a recurrence reduced some of the milities and even the odd knight to insist the Crusade was cursed and to offer to sell their weapons and shields to any local peasant for food, such misery only relieved when they got back down onto the plains and plenty at the Armenian city of Marash, albeit they were also once more at the mercy of the burning summer heat.

Expecting to have to fight they were relieved to find that the Turks, indeed the whole Muslim population, had decamped before they arrived. From high to low the Armenians of Marash were ecstatic, eager to provide them, albeit for payment, with all that they required to progress to their destination: food, horses, oxen and encouragement, their leaders also accepting the role of guarding the crusading flank from any incursions by their now joint enemy; if they could not stop the Turks from passing through — they lacked the military capacity to prevent them — they could ensure the Crusaders had ample warning of any looming threat.

From Marash onwards the Crusaders were able to form alliances with the numerous Armenian satraps; they ran large parts of Syria for Turkish overlords who would have been overstretched to do it for themselves. Such powerful local magnates had no love for the Seljuks and openly welcomed people they saw as their religious brothers, and many arrangements were made, not least for the transportation of supplies in the future.

Tancred met the forward elements of the Crusade on the road to Aleppo, able to assure Bishop Ademar, still acting as the titular leader and well ahead of the host, that the passes he had been sent to secure were open and the towns between Nicaea and Antioch garrisoned and safe should Alexius Comnenus wish to bring his forces that way; they had not joined at Caesarea as had been hoped. This also meant the Emperor would be supplied en route, which would speed his progress, while if he wished to send men by sea, Alexandretta was also in Christian hands.

‘Where is Baldwin?’

‘I have no idea, Your Grace,’ was the abrupt reply.

Such a response to a gently posed question was strange, not least in the manner in which it was delivered. That this was so showed on the cleric’s round face, and he was about to enquire further when the young Lord of Lecce added in an even less respectful tone that he was eager to meet up with his uncle. The last thing he wanted to do was explain Baldwin to anyone before he had spoken with Bohemund.

‘Not ahead at Antioch, then?’ Ademar pressed.

‘No.’

‘He will be happy to hear his brother is near full recovered.’

‘I’m sure he will, Your Grace,’ Tancred replied, with no conviction at all, before jerking his head in lieu of a bow and dragging his reins to take himself and his horse away, calling over his shoulder, ‘The road ahead is clear, you have nothing to fear.’

‘Do you think he contrived in the murder of our knights?’ Bohemund asked, the shock of their death and the manner of it still evident on his demeanour. ‘Of the Turks I can believe it, but for a Christian to slaughter his fellows …’

‘I do not know, but some of his own Lotharingian lances think he might have contrived in the massacre.’

‘They came to you and said so?’

‘We fought them outside Mamistra and some of my men were taken captive.’ Mistaking the reaction Tancred added, ‘We killed and captured a few ourselves.’

‘Fought!’ Bohemund barked. ‘You and Baldwin’s men fought?’

‘Perhaps it would be best if I told all.’

Which Tancred did, from the start to the very end and he left nothing out, even those parts that did not reflect well on himself, though he was keen to stress that if any bad blood had been created between Normans and Lotharingians, Baldwin and his naked greed lay at the root of it. He was sure that could not be gainsaid, given Duke Godfrey’s brother had taken careful steps to ensure he had the greater number of lances under his command. When he finished, it was to look into an older face showing much concern, which was a relief — he was expecting to be chastised.

‘These cannot be laid as accusations in council, Tancred.’

‘For the sake of amity with the Duke?’

‘Godfrey is not responsible for his brother, even although, in his soul, he will take upon himself that burden.’

‘They are certainly very different people, and I would point out that even if they are not raised in the council these are rumours and claims that cannot be sat on. I can command the men I led to silence but I have no assurance I will be obeyed. Word will reach elevated ears by another route than that which is direct, while I, were I a member of the council, would also be obliged to ask where the disloyal swine has gone.’

‘You got no indication?’

‘Not a whiff, Uncle, if he is on a route it is not any one that will take him south. My guess is that he has gone off to look for conquests of his own and I would remind you he still holds Tarsus as his fief.’

‘I will speak to Godfrey in private.’

‘And the others.’

‘If they hear by rumour of what you say happened at Tarsus, it is to be hoped they think as I do, that such matters are best not raised, lest we fall apart as a host before we even reach Antioch. I cannot bring back the men I have lost but there is too much at stake to make much of their fate, though I will have Mass said for their souls.’

‘Then I hope no one whispers such rumours in the ear of Vermandois.’ The grim response that got made words superfluous, so Tancred changed the subject. ‘Let me tell you about the fortifications we are about to face.’

‘You have no need for they are famous throughout the world. Every returning Jerusalem pilgrim speaks of them.’

‘That does not tell you the tenth of it and, according to Raymond’s man, Peter of Roaix, who has spoken to the ardent Christians the Governor of Antioch evicted, the city is strongly garrisoned to a number he thinks might go as high as five thousand fighting men.’

‘It fell before, to Byzantium, and if they can take it so can we.’

Bohemund’s conversation with Godfrey was elliptical in the extreme, more a case of the impossibility of Baldwin being involved in the massacre of his men than that he had contrived with the Turks to have it committed, yet the trace of an allegation could not be avoided.

‘I wished you to hear of this from my lips rather than from any gossip that might circulate, Duke Godfrey, for that would likely come larded with malice.’

Godfrey, his broad face sad, sighed and crossed himself. ‘My brother has ever been troublesome, but I have to think he would not stoop so low as you suggest.’

‘I have suggested nothing.’

‘You have laid out a case, Count Bohemund, and while you have not levelled any blame it is clear that some doubt exists as to how Baldwin acted. It is my experience that such a charge, even if false, levelled against a man’s name is not washed away easily and, sad to say, his blood relatives suffer by association.’

‘That is why I came to you and alone, for you do not deserve such a blemish. I have lost men I valued and I grieve for them, but I will not raise the matter in council, for to do so would embarrass you and would hardly serve our cause.’

That got a half smile. ‘I have observed how often you have restrained yourself in council, Count Bohemund. You let others speak rather than take the floor in your own right, yet I think I observe you often disagree, much as you try to keep that hidden.’

‘I must employ more effort to compose my features, and be assured, I would not let pass anything I thought endangered us or the Crusade.’

‘That I do believe. It is to your credit and I thank you for coming to see me alone. Now I am doubly indebted to you.’

‘If you mean the incident with the bear, you owe me nothing.’

‘Allow me to decide where my indebtedness lies, Count Bohemund. Now, if you will forgive me I must say prayers for my wayward brother, who needs them whatever he has or has not done.’

If the tale of the massacre at Tarsus did circulate it was kept from public discourse and, in truth, Baldwin’s absence was a relief to everyone including, Bohemund suspected, his own family, so that, if it was insincerely regretted as it had to be, it was far from troubling, for his natural bellicosity was being visited elsewhere. The future was of more import than what Baldwin was up to — before them was a Byzantine map of Antioch and the surrounding environs and plans had to be made as to how to subdue the city.

If the mass of the population of the city was Armenian and many of them adherents of their branch of the Christian faith that did not signify much; there would be those who through convenience or a genuine belief in Islam had converted, some of whom would fight for the Turks as well, either out of that same conviction or to hold on to what they had gained from being allies of the alien occupation. It was ever thus with conquest: some under a new master put personal advancement above principle, the powerless majority were swayed by their bellies, and those who stood out against the new dispensation were either killed or banished, and Yaghi Siyan, the Turkish Governor, had already expelled those who might stir up their race and religious brothers against him, careful, as an insurance, to hold the Armenian patriarch as a hostage.

Even discontented, which they might become when hunger struck, the mass of the Armenian indigenes would have no weapons with which to oppose the Turkish garrison and certainly no power to affect whether the siege would succeed or fail. None present thought it was going to be a simple affair, yet taken it must be — if Jerusalem was no more that a six-week march to the south, Antioch was the key to any chance of progress and much more beside.

It was no mystery, but here the Council of Princes came up against a stark reality that all knew but rarely mentioned: their host, though still powerful, was not as numerous as it had been outside Nicaea. Added to losses fighting there were the many more they had suffered in Anatolia due to thirst and starvation. There were the losses at Tarsus, and the march towards Antioch had taken its toll, several men lost from falls in the mountains. That did not include the number who had merely succumbed to accidents or the myriad number of diseases common to such a large body of men on campaign — foul humours, dropsy, sleeping sickness, seizures and the like added to the increasing number who had grown weary of seeking salvation and gone home.

Not everyone who left was abandoning the Crusade. A strong party of knights had been sent to secure the port of St Simeon, which gave the Crusade access to the Mediterranean and across that sea to Greek-held Cyprus and beyond, not least to Bohemund’s possessions in Apulia, as well as fast communications with the Emperor Alexius, telling of the open route south.

Messages had been sent by Bohemund to his Uncle Roger, the Great Count of Sicily, who if he was not prepared to join the Crusade would do all he could to aid it — even Borsa would help. Requests were despatched asking for many things to be delivered as soon as humanly possible and to use the treasure given to him by Alexius to pay for it.

But that still left the here and now to be dealt with; Tacitus, for so long a time left out of deliberations, only coming to life when appointing Byzantine governors to towns and cities the Crusade had captured, now put forward a plan based on the successful capture of the city a hundred years previously. This had taken the form of a partial siege, operated at a distance and designed more to reduce Antioch by starvation than to take it by direct assault.

Strategic locations were identified and if these could be secured, he assured the council, the supply routes to the city would be severely interdicted. When winter approached, the host could live, well spread out, in relative ease and comfort while the garrison of Antioch consumed the contents of their burgeoning storerooms and perhaps become so reduced by the spring they would start to eat their horses. That was the time to invest the city more closely and demand surrender, when morale was already at rock bottom.

‘Add to which, My Lords,’ his interpreter said in conclusion, ‘if your numbers are diminished now, they will, by then, surely be reinforced.’

‘By the Emperor?’ asked Robert of Normandy.

Tacitus, when that was translated, seemed to take that enquiry as some kind of affront and his reply when it came did not really answer the question. ‘The Prostrator refers more to the fact that knights are still coming from your own lands to bolster your numbers, but that will cease with winter and only truly be at full flow in spring.’

‘Ask him’ said Bohemund, making no attempt to disguise his irony, ‘if he has decided who is to be governor of Antioch yet?’

That brought from Raymond a frown as he took up the discussion, ignoring the whispered interpretation and Tacitus’s subsequent growl. Likewise Bohemund paid no attention to the look of malevolence from a man he had come to mistrust, being more intent on what the Count of Toulouse was saying.

‘Does the Prostrator wish to tell us how long he thinks such a way of proceeding would take?’ He did not wait for any translation. ‘Let me answer for him, so that we are not rendered impatient. He is talking of half a year before we even consider any form of assault, and I do not take to the notion of having my men idling for all that time and not fighting.’

He was not openly saying it, but all present understood: an idle army was one prone to illness, dissension and even disintegration, and besides that, they had already been about their business a long time, some of their number having left Europe and their lands two years since.

‘This fellow we face …’ Raymond stopped then, struggling to pronounce the Turkish governor’s name.

Bishop Ademar came to his rescue. ‘Yaghi Sayan.’

‘… is by reputation a canny fighter,’ the Count of Toulouse continued, ‘but is he not at odds with anyone who might support him?’

‘He plays games with the two sons of the Sultan of Baghdad, we are told,’ the cleric replied, adding that the brothers were in competition for control of Syria, of which Antioch, once the third centre of Roman power in the ancient world, was the most important city. ‘But our Armenian friends are sure he is really seeking Antioch for himself.’

‘Then what are the risks of such people coming to his aid?’

Raymond’s point was simple and again did not require to be laboriously explained to men who were used to command: if they had nothing to fear from their rear, why waste time? What information they had implied that the Sultan had enough trouble in Baghdad to keep him from interference, while his sons hated each other and would never combine to pose a threat. Besides that there were the common sectarian disputes that had racked the Islamic faith almost since the time of the Prophet. The Turks were Sunni Moslems, while in the countryside to the east the Arab population was mostly Shi’ite. Therefore the notion of raising the whole region against the Christian host was negligible.

‘We can do better outside the walls to starve out Antioch than from several leagues away.’

‘You think starvation the only way?’ asked Vermandois, making no secret of his own disdain for such an approach; no doubt he saw himself leading an assault over the walls and burnishing the legend he was sure would be his in posterity.

As kindly as was his way, Godfrey de Bouillon replied to that in order to kill off the reaction of the others, who were likely to scoff, stepping forward to the table on which the map was laid out, explaining why there was no other way, his tone patient.

‘Look, Count Hugh, and tell me how we can assault the walls, half of which run up and down the side of mountains with only a small corner at the northern gate not protected by a river. The Orontes runs too close to the walls to allow for secure construction of siege engines. Even if we had the means to build such things, which we don’t unless the Emperor brings them to us, how are they to be got into place? Even the bridge over the Orontes, the only place we could employ such a method, is too narrow, has its own barbican and is overlooked by the battlements.’

Count Hugh looked to Walo of Chaumont for assurance that what was being said was true, and the Constable responded with a silent nod.

‘Is it possible to agree with both Count Raymond and General Tacitus?’ asked Bohemund. ‘We cannot lay siege to the city and leave the places he has mentioned, such as Bagras and Artah, unmanned — that is even more dangerous, and Artah must be secured so we have a route for supplies.’

That got nods of assent.

‘Count Raymond has already secured the road south, so that leaves only the fortress of Harim, which has a small garrison and should be far enough distant to have no effect on a siege without we would know well in advance they are about to be a threat to us.’

If heads were still nodding that was not the end of the matter. A great deal of time and discussion followed before that was generally the course adopted, but it did not solve some problems that defied easy solutions. To completely surround Antioch and cut it off was impossible; only half of the six gates provided the host with the option to press on the defences while still being able to offer each other mutual support in case of an attack by the garrison, and it had to be accepted, even if it was unlikely, that might include outside reinforcements. The memory of Dorylaeum was still too fresh to allow for separation.

The gate that opened onto the western road, which led to the Antiochene port of St Simeon as well as its southernmost companion, lay right up against the east side of the wide Orontes River, with the only means to cross three leagues downriver. The southern gate was on the other side of the river as well, so any besiegers on the far bank would be isolated and exposed, while the remainder would not be able to offer quick support in case of any difficulties.

The most secure Turkish gate lay on the far side of the two mountains that dominated Antioch and was only approachable by a high and narrow pass between the twin peaks, while the Armenians who had been questioned indicated that to close that off was next to impossible. So half the entry and exit points could only be cut off by mobile troops and they had to be able in the event of danger to make a rapid withdrawal.

If these obstacles prompted sober reflection they did not deter, merely being taken into consideration, with each leader choosing one of the three sections of the defences where they could be effective, with the rest being a shared responsibility. Bohemund elected to take the northern gate that led to Bagras, the site of an old Byzantine fortress. Close to the hillside of Mount Staurin and therefore a place of danger, it presented the only part of the walls with an extent of flat ground on the approach, where it might be possible, should they ever have the means, to mount an assault with a man-made tower. This implied to the others present that while he accepted it was likely to be a siege of attrition, the Count of Taranto had not given up hope of a coup de main.

The northern Normans, as well as Vermandois, were next on his right between Bohemund and Raymond of Toulouse, the joint of their forces meeting at the next gate south. The last of the trio and potentially as dangerous as any, given the narrow amount of land at his back, went to Godfrey de Bouillon. Tacitus was asked where he wanted to be based and once he was clear as to the nature of the question he pointed to a place well to the rear of Bohemund and his Apulians. That it was safe was obvious; that it led back to Constantinople in the case of flight did not escape notice either.

With all agreed, Raymond of Toulouse had one more statement he wished to make and it was clearly, to him, an important one. He pointed out that whatever happened, the siege of Antioch was likely to be of longer duration than that of Nicaea; he wished each leader to swear, as he was willing to do himself, not to abandon the effort, however difficult it became, on pain of eternal damnation, leaving Bohemund certainly, and probably the others, wondering what had prompted such a request.

‘Every man present has sworn already,’ Ademar insisted. ‘What need have we of more pledges?’

‘It concerns me that many have fallen by the wayside already and gone home. Then, when things are hard, there is the temptation to seek an easier route to satisfy …’

Raymond could not finish that, could not say the word ‘ambitions’ or refer to the absent Baldwin and the example he had set.

‘We are jointly here and jointly we will stay,’ Bohemund said, speaking before Godfrey could respond.

Robert of Normandy spoke up just as forcefully, knowing he was suspected of being a less-than-wholehearted Crusader and Raymond’s request might be aimed at him and his brothers-in-law, Stephen of Blois and Robert of Flanders.

‘If it aids our cause, let us make the pledge. If we are all acting in good faith it makes no difference, if we are not then God will be the judge.’

‘I will swear and gladly,’ Godfrey exclaimed.

This was close to comical — if anyone did not need to restate his commitment it was the pious Duke of Lower Lorraine; he was doing it because of the actions of Baldwin, who had quite obviously gone in search of personal profit, lest anyone ascribe the same motives to him. It did, however, because he was held in such high regard, oblige the others to agree and Ademar called for his priests and his missal to make it as formal as Raymond felt it should be.

Back in his section of the encampment Bohemund called his captains together and ordered an immediate move, his lances to travel fast and the milities to follow; he wanted the first thing that Yaghi Sayan spied from his citadel to be his banner.

Robert, Count of Flanders, was deputed to take a strong party of a thousand knights on a detour to capture the town of Artah, which controlled the road north-east and due east to Marash, Aleppo and Edessa. He arrived to find the town in Armenian hands, the locals having revolted and chased out a Turkish garrison that was reluctant to remain in any case, having heard that the Crusade was coming their way. The Armenians happily accepted a garrison of crusading knights and were equally pleased to have a banner of the County of Flanders fly from their citadel.

For the rest, with the Apulians in the lead, the only place to safely cross the Orontes was at a spot called the Iron Bridge, an odd appellation for an arched edifice made of stone that dated from Roman times or even earlier. No doubt there was some local legend of an ancient action to account for the name but it was not anything to trouble the host enough to enquire. They were pleased the bridge was unguarded and even more delighted, indeed surprised, when having crossed it they entered a flat plain in the full glory of its flowering, fed with water by a river in strong flow.

Yaghi Sayan, who should have sown the whole area with salt to deny them forage, had destroyed nothing. There was grain in plentiful supply, fruit on the trees and vegetables, the second harvest, growing in the fields while the fruits of the first harvest of the year were yet to be consumed. Livestock was plentiful and the population, being Armenian, was only too pleased to both greet and trade with these strange creatures from beyond their shores, while in the distance rising into a midday haze, they could see the massive twin hills that formed a backdrop to the city they were about to besiege.

Even to a warrior who had seen Palermo and had mighty Bari as a fief, it was sobering for Bohemund to examine Antioch when they got close enough to see the details of the fortifications, especially at the gate he had chosen to act against. Above them lay the top of Mount Silpius, while adjacent to that and only marginally smaller, Mount Staurin had set upon it Yaghi Sayan’s citadel, itself a hard place to assault and capture should they ever get close, even more so given it was fronted by a steep escarpment.

From the flat ground on which the Apulians made camp the walls ran very quickly up a scrub-covered incline that would defy any man to walk upright — it was one for a scrabbling ascent at best made even more so by the loose screed of small stones underfoot — while all the way up there was a stout and near unassailable wall interspersed with dozens of towers. That crested the high summit of Mount Staurin and continued across a high valley lying just below the peaks of both mountains in which was set, as part of the main defensive walls, the formidable citadel; it was sobering to reflect that if it was like this on the northern approach, it was even steeper and more taxing to the south.

‘As you can observe, Uncle,’ Tancred said, pointing to the citadel, ‘we can do nothing in preparation without that the Turk will see it.’

That was true; the whole plain would be laid out like a panorama from that high elevation. ‘Let him first see we are determined.’

‘Do you have a thought as to why he left all this food unspoilt?’

‘I sense you are asking me a question, Tancred, to which you have your own answer.’

The two men exchanged grins, for it was no less than the truth, as the younger man replied, ‘I think he hoped we would pass on and leave him in peace.’

‘I think the same, but it was a foolish gambit. Only a madman would leave such a potent city untouched at his back.’

‘Or is it that he does not fear us, and hopes to see our bones from his citadel when the food runs out?’

‘One day, nephew, I hope you and I get to ask him the answer.’