Soldier of Crusade

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

If the number of reported Turks coming their way under Ridwan of Aleppo had to be an exaggeration, there was no doubt the Crusaders faced a massive force equal to their own and they could only detach so many from the siege to face it. Added to that their main weapon, the mounted knight with lance, was now so constrained by a lack of fit horses that doubts existed as to how effective it could be. When counted, it was realised that only some six hundred equines could bear a human load enough to do battle and they could not all be taken away from the defence of their siege lines.

At least they knew exactly where the Turks had camped, around the fortress of Harim, and they now had a greater grasp of the terrain than their enemy, which Bohemund pointed out allowed them to choose where any battle would be fought. This could provide a crucial advantage, for he still maintained, even after what had occurred so recently on the foraging expedition, that the Turks were not stalwart and the key to defeating them was the kind of surprise that threw their undisciplined levies into disarray.

‘They are a mob, even the cavalry,’ he insisted. ‘Look how they acted at Nicaea. Let us commit them to battle and then shock them.’

‘Mounts,’ Vermandois said, and for once it was treated as a valid interjection.

‘Most of our knights will have to fight on foot, Count Hugh,’ Godfrey de Bouillon stated. ‘That we have already established.’

‘We must use our horses to good effect, and no one is more adept at that than we Normans.’

Even saintly Godfrey was put out by that comment from the Duke of Normandy, it being so crass, which was nothing as to the reaction of Raymond, who positively bristled; he had yet to forgive Bohemund and Robert of Flanders for the loss of his Provencal milities.

‘It would be fitting if certain people were to accept that we are equals in combat.’

‘Except in one regard, Count Raymond,’ Bohemund interrupted, albeit softly. ‘We Apulians have more fit horses than anyone else, the Duke of Normandy included.’

Two spectres were raised by that: the Count of Taranto had sent many of his horses away at the approach of winter where others had declined to do so and, if they had not all fared as well as he hoped, the number that came back battle-ready, some two hundred mounts, was significant. The second point did not have to be stated: there was no chance whatever that the Normans of South Italy would hand these horses over to anyone else. If there were to be a use of mounts in the coming encounter it would be led by Bohemund.

‘My Lords,’ he continued, ‘even on foot, we knights mailed are a match for the Turks, as you, Count Raymond proved at Nicaea, which I again take leave to mention.’

‘And there,’ Godfrey added, ‘we chose where to fight.’

‘That is our best hope,’ Raymond agreed, his high mood assuaged slightly by Bohemund’s reference to his previous success. ‘So we now must spend time in the choosing.’

This time they were poring over maps that had been drawn by their own scribes; anything Roman after the desertion of Tacitus was seen as tainted. The obvious tactical need was a valley and one high sided enough to make it difficult for Ridwan to get over the slopes to outflank them, though given the numbers they could deploy it was hoped he would not even consider such a stratagem. The use of a false retreat was examined and discarded; the Turks employed that manoeuvre themselves and might not fall for it when used against them.

‘Fighting on foot, cohesion is all,’ declared Raymond. ‘If we try to back away we will lose that and will struggle to re-form our line if they decline to follow. No, if we fall back, it must be pace by pace and decided by a single banner.’

‘And once they are committed,’ concluded Ademar, ‘it is down to you, Count Bohemund.’

‘Might I suggest the Count of Toulouse to command the knights on foot?’

Florid Toulouse was obviously taken with that notion and he glared at everyone present, Bohemund apart, daring them to decline him the honour.

‘I am happy for you to lead,’ Godfrey said, that backed by Hugh of Vermandois, who had lost some of his ambition since the start of this siege. Only the Duke of Normandy looked reluctant as he agreed.

In the event it was classic in its execution; Ridwan was so sure of his numerical superiority he came on as if he had already triumphed, to meet a line of mailed knights on foot, with shields and weapons at the ready, men who stood and suffered the attack by mounted archers and did not flinch. Then came the mass of Turkish foot, shoulder to shoulder and in deep and multiple lines that stretched across the valley floor, their kettledrums beating a loud tattoo and their cries to the Prophet rending the air.

At first the Crusaders were immovable, until Ridwan sent in several supporting waves so that the battle area became a crowded mass. The Crusaders took their first backward step, only one and in unison, each man eyeing the banner of Raymond so as to be sure that what order had been given was just that — one step and no more. Encouraged, Ridwan sent in more men and again, after a fierce fight the Crusader line went backwards, not much, but heartening to the Turkish general. Sure that one final push would break the Crusaders’ spirit he committed all of his men and backed them up with his mounted archers. The whole milled about in the rear, ready for the pursuit, which was bound to follow.

Bohemund did not show restraint as he entered the fray; cresting the right-hand slope, he and his lances came over as a body and for once he let the slope dictate the pace of his attack, which was made at the full gallop over what was a short distance. To hold a line on such an incline was impossible, just as unlikely as that a force of a mere two hundred knights could put to flight an army numbered in the tens of thousands. Yet shock and astonishment are potent weapons and that was what fell upon the Turks now, and if the sight of these charging horsemen was not enough to dent their confidence, the sudden reversal of the actions of the mailed knights to their front was.

Raymond, Godfrey, Robert of Normandy and Hugh of Vermandois could not have acted in more unison and it was a miracle of coordination. Every one of their banners were dipped forward, following the command from Raymond, telling their knights to take back what ground they had surrendered, the aim not just to kill, but to pin their foes and make them stay and fight. Pressed into a confined space by the eagerness of Ridwan, what Bohemund and his knights careered into, the mounted archers, was such a solid mass there was no chance for anyone, man or beast, to escape and that they tried sent a ripple of panic through their entire host.

It was that, rather than slaughter, which determined the next phase, as men who felt themselves betrayed began to seek a way to save their skins and in doing so those archers ran down their own foot soldiers, trampling them under their horses’ hooves and even swiping with their swords to clear a path. At the front killing zone, fighters who had thought they were winning were now dying in droves, for they had no notion of security to their rear, which took the passion that had so far sustained them out of their efforts.

A stronger general would have sought to rally his troops; Ridwan of Aleppo was far from that — he owed his position to his bloodline and was more concerned with his own life than that of the host he led. As soon as it appeared they might be checked, not defeated, the son of the Sultan called for his banner and fled the field, the effect on those who saw this disastrous. The non-engaged foot soldiers went after their mounted archers, leaving those at the front and the many others who stood their ground exposed to Bohemund’s knights who were engaged in butchery at the rear. They began to die in even greater numbers or to fall to their knees and plead for mercy as they sensed they had been abandoned.

Now the shortage of mounts truly told; the Crusaders lacked the means to pursue their running foes — the horses were past their peak and too valuable to risk, while mailed men would struggle to walk at pace never mind run. They had won the day in this Syrian valley but did not yet know if they had prevailed in the contest, so they dare not let up, dare not let Ridwan regroup. It was a weary and dusty march towards the fortress of Harim, prayers being mouthed through cracked dry lips that they would not have to fight take it.

The joy when they saw the place in flames was unalloyed, that even deeper when they espied what Turks remained were hurrying east to safety. Raymond called a halt and Godfrey de Bouillon immediately beckoned forward Bishop Ademar, who had insisted he must share their fate if not their fight, and begged him to say Mass there and then for their deliverance. If any Turks of Ridwan’s now crushed army did look back, it would have been to see the men who had driven them from the field of battle, both mounted and on foot, now on their knees in deep prayer.

In flight, the Turks had left abundant food, horses and valuables — silks, gold and silver, which were as rich a prize as victory — and also the Crusaders had prisoners in abundance, with Turkish banners to display to the defenders of Antioch, men who had known Ridwan was close and had fully expected to be relieved. Instead, they saw their religious brothers beheaded and knew that soon those skulls would be catapulted inside their walls.

The feeling that matters had tipped in their favour began to permeate the Crusaders’ lines, yet any notion of a quick end to the siege was certainly not in sight — the Turks were still sending out sniping raids and their walls were intact, so it was a sentiment not a fact, the defeat of Ridwan of Aleppo being part of that. In addition, with improving weather the fields were producing food, and ships were bringing that in from Cyprus and more lances from Europe, which despite pleas to the papacy was a trickle not a flood. The problem, anyway, was not numbers but the sheer strength of the walls added to the tenacity of the resistance, and there was another matter that Bohemund was keen to raise in the Council of Princes: the status of Antioch after the siege was over, which was delicate.

‘It will be handed back to the Emperor,’ Raymond declared, ‘as we promised we would do.’

‘You would gift to a man who has done nothing to aid us since we gave him Nicaea?’

‘We are bound by our oaths, Count Bohemund,’ Ademar reminded him, which got support from Godfrey de Bouillon who referred to the ceremony at which he had sworn.

‘I too kissed the relics as Alexius demanded of me, but I made him do so too, Godfrey, on the grounds that such loyalty extended in both directions.’

‘Is an emperor bound by such things?’ asked Vermandois; he meant a king, his brother.

‘Alexius Comnenus is a man like you and I.’

That got a flare of the French nostrils and a nod from Walo, as ever by his side — Count Hugh thought himself superior to most men, an opinion not even shared by his own people.

‘And I take the view that he has broken his oath to me.’

The Duke of Normandy laughed, his eyes twinkling with humour. ‘Very convenient, Count Bohemund; that will allow a de Hauteville to take more Byzantine fiefs, which is a family trait, is it not?’

‘Anglo-Saxon property is just as succulent, My Lord.’

That barb hit home and for once Bohemund thought that the man he had seen for months past as an ally might not be on his side in the discussion he was determined to force into the open. He also knew he had been too acerbic in his response to the mention of his family, and Robert replied in kind.

‘While a legitimate claim to a kingdom trumps banditry, you will find.’

‘None of those present can say that there is no other claim against that which we each own, My Lord.’

‘I am curious to what you are driving at?’ asked Ademar, seeing this conversation between two Normans as a distraction.

‘When Antioch falls, as it will even if we are here for years, I say to hand it back to Alexius would be folly. He has done nothing to aid us, quite the opposite. If Tacitus withdrew on his own initiative, he did not return to us on imperial orders. Alexius has no intention of aiding us to take Antioch and the impression I get is he expects us to fail here.’

‘I cannot agree that is so.’

‘Where are his men, Count Raymond? We cleared the Cilician Gates and the Belen Pass to ease his journey south, and the towns on the way were free of Turks and would welcome him. He had a passage denied to us and no shortage of supplies, given he has ships at his disposal — vessels, I would remind you, we have not seen in the harbour of St Simeon.’

‘All this may be true, Count Bohemund,’ Ademar insisted, his face creasing, for it was not now as smooth and round as it had been before; many months of worry and the needs of his office had produced lines that now showed. ‘But you have yet to answer the question I posed.’

‘How, if there is no aid from Byzantium, is Antioch to be held? How, when the Crusade marches on to Jerusalem, is it to be supplied? How, if the Turks are resurgent, is it going to be possible to ensure they do not get across our rear and cut us off?’

‘It is rare to answer one question with three.’

‘The answers are more important, Your Grace.’

Vermandois spoke up again. ‘When we succeed, Alexius will send a fleet and army south to take possession.’

‘Only if we agree he can and hold it for him until he does, which will not speed the journey to Palestine.’

‘You would defy him?’ Raymond asked.

‘I would remind him that as far as I am concerned he has broken his oath to me, and therefore he has forfeited any right to my aid in giving him Antioch.’

‘While,’ Robert Duke of Normandy opined, ‘any one of us here can claim that right if they share your view and are prepared to risk their soul by setting aside their oath.’

Vermandois was quick to butt in. ‘Not least the Count of Taranto.’

‘I still say that Alexius will send a garrison,’ Raymond insisted.

‘And if he does, My Lord, will you feel safe? Do you believe that if the Turks threaten his capital he will hold Antioch and risk that Constantinople might fall? Who amongst us has not felt let down by the actions of the Emperor up till now?’

That stopped any eye contact, for Bohemund had hit a very sore spot indeed — if they had not complained openly every one of them had railed at his lack of support in private.

‘Alexius is clever, My Lords, he let us think he would take the field in person and aid us on our Crusade but he did not. Instead he has used us to free his borderlands and his men have stood aside when we have been in danger, as at Dorylaeum. We have crushed Turk after Turk and who will benefit from their being diminished if not the Byzantine Empire?’

‘We do.’

‘And so, Your Grace, does he. I say we must hold Antioch ourselves and deny it to him, not for mere gain but for our own security and the sake of the Crusade.’

‘And who,’ Duke Robert enquired, ‘will hold it?’

‘We must hold it in common,’ Ademar cried, before he realised he might be agreeing with Bohemund. ‘Until Alexius makes his presence felt.’

‘By the laws of conquest,’ Bohemund said quietly, ‘the man who holds it is the one whose banner flies above the walls when Antioch falls.’

There was a moment then when avarice came to the surface; Antioch was a rich fief, a great centre of trade and whoever was suzerain would not want for wealth. Then each mind, Bohemund was certain, turned to the notion that such a possession might fall to another and that, as a consideration, was less welcome.

‘Pope Urban would not approve of even the thought.’

‘Bishop Ademar, Pope Urban is not here, and I say if you wish to take and hold Jerusalem for our faith, you will not do so unless you hold Antioch as well. I have said my piece, but know this: my family has fought Byzantium for over sixty years and I will make a claim I do not think can be gainsaid. We de Hautevilles know them better than anyone in the council and to repose any faith in the notion that they, or Alexius Comnenus, will do anything other than that which protects their own interests, is folly.’

‘Why do I think you have hankered after Antioch all along?’ asked Tancred, when his uncle related to him the gist of the meeting.

‘No, not Antioch, but it has been a long time since I felt that anything would come from going on to Jerusalem.’ That raised a youthful eyebrow. ‘Remember I told you by the River Vardar of all the things that were unknown. Then we had no notion of what to truly expect from Alexius or Byzantium, no idea of how or if this Crusade would progress. I tell you, if Alexius was here I would not even raise my voice regarding Antioch, it would be his by right, but he is not and we have not seen hide or hair of his main army, even at Nicaea.’

‘He saw you as a threat.’

‘Tancred, he saw us all as a threat. If he did not he would have come to Nicaea himself instead of Tacitus. No Roman emperor can afford to repose trust in any man and Alexius so mistrusted us our back was all he wanted to see.’

‘Which angers you?’

‘No, he acts as he sees in the interests of his empire. I am seeking to persuade the Council of Princes to act on behalf of the Crusade.’

Tancred grinned. ‘But you would like that we Apulians should take possession of Antioch?’

‘The man who held it for Byzantium was titled “Prince”.’ Bohemund laughed out loud, which had been rare these last months. ‘Would that not be one in the eye for a Great Count and a mere Duke of Apulia?’

‘Can we make that happen?’

Bohemund shook his head. ‘Only God can make that happen.’

If Bohemund’s views had struck obstacles with most of the leaders, Hugh of Vermandois was animated by the thought of his banner flying over Antioch, so when a message was sent to him offering to surrender the city, delivered by an Armenian smuggler, he eagerly pursued it and wanted to do so personally. This was a notion Walo of Chaumont, who had been sent to contain his follies, spent much time talking him out of and he only persuaded the Count to desist by offering to meet these Muslim rebels himself.

Every gate into the city had a postern and there were others at various places in the walls, small doors which only one man could pass through at a time and therefore very easy to defend or block up if threatened. In a time of peace these facilitated movement to and from the city, now they were used for smuggling and if the entry points were supposed to be guarded by men of the Crusade, inevitably milities, then a coin slipped into their hand, or food when they had been starving, was not to be sneezed at. If anyone had told Bohemund he would have just laughed; no place he had besieged had ever been sealed off completely and there were always folk within the walls willing to pay for luxuries or just good food, sometimes when the poor were eating weeds.

Walo took with him several knights and they were armed, slipping through the postern one by one on a dark and moonless night, with Vermandois straining to catch sight of them. He did see the door close behind them, but he heard the creak. The thick oak cut off the sounds that followed, that of his brother’s Constable, the man the King of France entrusted to command his armies by his side, having his throat cut, the same fate visited upon those with him.

This was not a loss that could be hidden and Vermandois was obliged, when the heads of those men slaughtered behind the gate were thrown over the walls, to explain what had happened and without his main supporter to advise him he made a poor fist of it. It appeared a chance to gain the city by betrayal; it would have been foolish not to pursue such a possibility and he would do so again if chance offered it. The loss was heartbreaking but how many knights had given their lives in this endeavour? Walo had given his and would be esteemed for it and yes, the Armenian messenger, the smuggler, had not reappeared.

‘Why do your think the message was sent to Vermandois?’ Tancred asked.

‘Yaghi Siyan wanted to warn us off dealing with traitors, on pain of our own death. What better way to despatch such a communication but through the hands of a fool?’

‘He knows that Vermandois is a fool?’

‘Why not? Everyone else does.’