“Thank you, my son,” said Pope Urban, and for about the tenth time that day gave him the special papal blessing.
Chapter IV - To the City
The walls of Durazzo, so often breached and so often repaired, gleamed parti-coloured in the sun. On the highest tower a look-out shouted a familiar call.
In the commandant’s office three or four officers hurried to take their usual places round the council table. “Well, gentlemen,” said John Comnenus when they were seated, “this is it. ‘Warships approaching’ the sentry called. These must be the Normans of Apulia, the most dangerous of the Frankish fleets.”
“The garrison is under arms, Highness,” said the castellan. “Shall I close the gates and raise the drawbridge?”
“Not yet. But have men standing by the windlass. You might also pull back the ropes of the catapults, and load stones in them. It’s just possible that these people may accept our condition. If they come in peace we must carry out the orders of the Emperor my uncle. After all, the brother of the famous King of the Franks gave no trouble when it came to the point.”
“He’s a fool, Highness,” said another councillor, “and he did not see what was happening to him until it was too late. This Bohemond knows us.”
An officer at the lower end of the table began to splutter excitedly to an interpreter, who then spoke deferentially to the Prince.
“My lord Peter of Aulps understands the tongue of civilization, but he distrusts his skill in speaking it. Therefore he speaks through my mouth. He says that if these Franks are led by Bohemond of Taranto then he, my lord Peter of Aulps, must get out of Durazzo at once. Our Emperor pays him to fight Franks, and he earns his pay. But not for all the gold in the world will he meet Count Bohemond.”
“That sounds very extreme,” Comnenus said pleasantly. “Is this barbarian so very disgusting?”
After another splutter from Peter the interpreter resumed.
“Bohemond is the biggest man in the world, and the strongest. My lord Peter came to Romania in his following, before he entered the service of the Emperor. He fears that giant Bohemond may tear him in pieces with his bare hands.”
“Turning your coat brings these difficulties,” Comnenus replied. “Don’t translate that bit. Tell the lord Peter that within an hour a guard of Patzinaks will escort him to the city. He is not to go anywhere else, and he is not to take any of his mercenaries with him. In the city the Emperor will find him suitable employment. Good-bye, my lord Peter. This interpreter will stay. I want to talk with him.”
When Peter had scurried out Comnenus turned genially to the interpreter. “I am sure you translated faithfully all that was told you in Frankish. Do you know whether any of it is true?”
“Oh yes, Highness, all of it. I am a Greek of Bari, and I lived in the west until I came here with the Frankish invaders. Count Bohemond is indeed the mightiest warrior among the Franks, and the biggest man I have ever seen. My lord Peter deserted him treacherously while on campaign in these parts. He is wise to fear his vengeance.”
“His size doesn’t frighten me,” said Comnenus. “My uncle has many foes, nearly all of them bigger than he, for he is a small man. But he continues to hold his throne by the sword. This Bohemond may come in peace after all. He has said so, and I suppose even a Frank speaks the truth sometimes. For the time being we follow our instructions: Resist if he attacks, otherwise speed him on his journey. I suppose free food and free wine is the biggest inducement you can offer to these pirates. They will march to the nearest supplies. Yes, my man, you have more to say?”
“Highness, there is something you ought to know about Count Bohemond, something well known in Italy but perhaps not in Romania. He is a mighty warrior and a powerful ruler, but as the Franks reckon birth he is of lower rank than the leaders who have come before. His grandfather was little more than a free peasant. His father came to Italy with nothing but horse and arms. Bohemond is his eldest son, but he was passed over as heir in favour of the children of a second marriage. In my hearing my lord Peter has described him as an upstart.”
“Thanks, that is worth knowing. You will be rewarded. Now go off to your Peter, and remember everything he says. But he won’t let you hear much. He must know as well as I do that you are a spy.”
“We have learned something valuable, gentlemen,” he continued when the interpreter was out of the room. “We must flatter this Bohemond, and treat him in every way as the equal of the other Frankish lords. Then the others will dislike him. We don’t want a united front of all the barbarians against civilization. The more they quarrel among themselves the better. It really is true, absurd as it must seem to us, that some barbarians consider themselves better born than others.”
Count Bohemond stood on the ship’s afterdeck with his young nephew Tancred. Bohemond was now forty-two years of age, but from a distance the pair might have been brothers. Both were immensely tall, with broad shoulders, narrow hips, slim waists; both moved easily in their heavy mailshirts; both carried long double-edged swords. Bohemond’s clean-shaven face, brown from exposure so that his grey eyes gleamed with unexpected emphasis, peered from a mail hauberk which covered neck and ears. Tancred let his hauberk hang on his shoulders like a hood, to leave his long black hair undisturbed; and his soft black young man’s beard fuzzed over the front of his mail. Long hair and long beard were the fashion among the young knights of Italy, though the elder generation thought the fashion unmilitary.
Bohemond gazed ahead. “That’s Durazzo. Since I saw it last they have repaired the walls, and the Greek banners give it an ugly look. Gates closed, of course. I have opened them; but not this time if I can avoid it. I have explained to the shipmaster. We make for that shelving beach to the south. We get the troops ashore as quick as we can, and then march inland. I know the country, and our route is clear in my head. Not the route the Greeks advise, of course, because we must show them from the start that we don’t take orders from their Emperor. I don’t suppose they will attack us before we attack them, though we shall observe all military precautions. It doesn’t look as though you will see your first fight today.”
‘‘That beach on the right? A good place. Cross-bows on the ridge inland can cover the disembarkation of the stores.”
“It’s on the right, as we look at it. But on campaign you should always say north or south. There are men in this army who would look for a beach to the right of this town if they were coming from the east, just because they heard you call it that. I hope you don’t mind me putting you right. Is it true that you have never yet drawn your sword in anger?”
“Quite true, and I am not at all ashamed of it. I am old enough to think for myself. It seems to me the plain teaching of the Gospel that one Christian should never kill another Christian. There are a lot of Christians who never fight, monks and hermits and such. I wanted to see if a Count could live without fighting. I wonder what would have happened if the Pope had not started this pilgrimage?”
“You would have had to become a monk or a hermit, as many other Counts have done before you. It’s the only honourable way to dodge fighting, and not a mode of life that appeals to me. The abbots of Italy should be grateful that this pilgrimage came in time. By blood you are half a Hauteville, and our House doesn’t take kindly to canonical obedience. In your opinion is it all right to kill infidels?”
“Of course, especially when the Pope advises it. And it is equally right to kill false Christians who hinder the Holy War. If we have to charge those Greeks my horse’s head will be level with yours. Oh, it’s a wonderful idea. At Clermont, I’m told, men saw the Holy Ghost in the form of a dove hovering over the head of the Pope as he spoke. My brother is as keen as I am, in fact keener. He joined the first band of French pilgrims. By now he must be near Constantinople. I’ll see him again when we all march in one body to free Jerusalem.”
“To free Jerusalem, or to free the Christians of the east from infidel rule? I know we are to do both, but I wonder which should com
e first? Have you heard from your brother since he set out? Rumours are floating about that Count Hugh, brother of the King of France, is in some sort of trouble. But we can cross that bridge when we come to it. Our immediate job is to get the men and horses ashore, before those Greeks in Durazzo come out to interfere. I shall feel a lot happier when our knights are mounted.”
‘‘They intended to dodge us, and by God they have pulled it off,” said John Comnenus at the next council in Durazzo. “My uncle sent me to keep an eye on these mad Frankish pilgrims, and I shall feel pretty silly when I report that a large army has slipped through our fingers. It was Bohemond of course. Luckily my uncle knows him. I gather that a few years ago they chased one another all over these mountains, taking it in turns to win a battle. Well, his men haven’t plundered, and he seems to be trying to keep the peace. I shan’t bar his way. In fact I shall have depots of provisions waiting for him. That was the second half of the imperial orders: If the Franks come in peace get them to the city as quickly as possible. Don’t let them Unger on the road.”
“Certainly don’t bar their way, Highness,” said the Greek officer in command of the Patzinaks. “In confidence, I don’t think we could do it with the troops we have available. I suggest that my mounted archers follow behind them—far enough behind to avoid an accidental collision. One danger is not covered by the imperial orders. Those barbarian cross-bows defend a wall very stubbornly, and I am told the Franks know something of fortification. Suppose they think it prudent to safeguard their line of retreat? We might suddenly find all Macedonia dotted with Frankish castles, while the main body marches peaceably towards the city. If I come behind them I can mop up any Frankish loiterers without bringing on a pitched battle.”
“A sensible proposal. March behind them as you suggest. But keep at least ten miles behind their rearguard, and think twice before you attack. Don’t go too far east. These are not the last barbarian pilgrims. Another army of savages is struggling through Dalmatia, having a bad time from the Sclavonian mountaineers. I expect they will be glad to reach the safety of Durazzo, but I must have troops in hand when they arrive. Oh dear, there’s no end to them. It seems that every warrior from the barbarous west is coming to live at free quarters on the bread and wine of Romania.”
The Greek officers looked at one another nervously. They had been trained in the tradition of a strong regular army, but ever since the disaster at Manzikert more than twenty-five years ago there had never been enough troops to go round.
Castoria in upland Macedonia was unwalled, though populous and well provisioned. There the Normans of Italy celebrated their first Christmas on pilgrimage, the Christmas of 1096. The mountains that ringed them were higher than any they had seen in Italy; but at least they were accustomed to the idea of mountains, and did not feel so lost in exile as pilgrims from the northern plains.
The army kept good discipline, all the more readily because the local inhabitants had fled. The Castorians remembered that Bohemond himself had plundered their fields little more than ten years ago, and naturally they could not believe that this second time he came in peace. With some reluctance he had plundered the valley a second time, so that his men should not go hungry at Christmas. But he saw to it that only food and drink and baggage animals were taken, and that none of the peasants were killed. Their absence from the camp was in itself a good thing; camp followers, especially female camp followers, are the root of all indiscipline. So far there were few concubines with the army; pilgrims in a Holy War could not bring them from Apulia, and so long as the natives were hostile they could not pick them up on the march. Bohemond announced that any man found guilty of rape would be hanged, and was rather taken aback when his nephew questioned his right to give such orders.
“My dear uncle, is this your army? Or are we a band of pilgrims travelling together for safety? If these knights are your vassals, even so no vassal can be compelled to follow his lord on pilgrimage. What about the foot? Do you pay them? If so, what are the terms of their engagement? To come down to personalities, I have never in my life sworn to obey anyone. I never shall. I made up my mind about that on my sixteenth birthday, three years ago. Would you like me to leave this camp, where it seems that you rule?”
“If I called on my knights they would obey me, and I could hang you within the hour. Get that straight in your mind, nephew. It won’t happen, of course, because you are my sister’s son. But I have the power to command it. I hope you will stay with this army, but if you prefer to travel independently you may go in peace. By what right this is my army, how far these knights will follow me, how long my power over them will endure, are questions still unsettled. Come for a walk, where no one can overhear, and we can go into the matter.”
“Why not ride? The fields are muddy.”
“Another campaigning lesson. Never ride when you can walk. I have three good destriers, and I suppose you have more than one. But between Durazzo and Jerusalem you won’t find another decent warhorse, trained to charge straight. No warrior of the eastern world wants his horse to charge straight. They like to hover out of reach of their foes while they shoot their arrows. Among all the soldiers of the Emperor I met only one body of men who were eager to fight hand-to-hand; and they fought on foot. They turned our charge, so we had to shoot them down. We killed them to the last man, but I believe the Emperor has hired more. So if you run into a company of foot bearing great axes, treat them with respect. Now walk with me.”
They walked among the muddy pastures of the valley, where now no oxen were to be seen.
“I wish the Pope had explained more clearly what he wants us to do,” Bohemond began. “By the way, do you realize that no one knows exactly what he said at Clermont? No record was taken at the time and he himself can’t remember all of it. Never before has there been anything like this pilgrimage. As you pointed out, in law there is no reason why any of these men should obey me. But that goes for all the other armies too. The Duke of Normandy is the head of the whole Norman race; but that gives him no right to rule Normans in Romania, or in Italy for that matter. I hear that my silly brother Roger the Purse has been making all sorts of extravagant offers of fealty. But I for one won’t acknowledge the Duke as my lord when he catches up with us—if ever he does. And what is supposed to happen when all the pilgrims are assembled in one body?”
“I suppose we choose a leader, and obey him for the duration of the pilgrimage. It seems to me quite easy,” answered Tancred at once.
“Yes, yes, quite easy if we are all of one mind. But that is impossible unless God grants us a miracle. Who chooses the leader? All the pilgrims? If that groom over there disagrees with my choice does his voice weigh as heavily as mine? I shall have a voice, or I shall go straight back to Italy. Will you have a voice, though you are not twenty years of age? Will each army have one voice, so that your brother is counted as a follower of Count Hugh and you are counted as my man, which you are not? Do the knights choose, without consulting the foot? Is every rascal who owns a horse to be reckoned a knight? I don’t see how we are ever to join in one army.”
“God wills it. This pilgrimage will drive the infidels from the Holy Sepulchre. Perhaps the Pope has named a commander for the united army.”
“Perhaps he thinks he has. That’s no good since he hasn’t made it clear to all of us. Do you know Pope Urban?”
“He has given me his special blessing. But I was twelve years old at the time. I can’t say we had much intimate conversation.”
“I used to see quite a lot of him. At one time we Hautevilles were the only secular rulers who acknowledged him. He is a holy man. Perhaps you couldn’t say that of every Pope. He is also a Frenchman of noble birth, who understands French knights. In fact he can twist them round his little finger, or we wouldn’t be keeping Christmas in this outlandish plain. But it seems to me that he feels more strongly than he thinks. The west ought to march to the rescue of the east. A noble sentiment, so he gets us all marching. But it isn’t what th
ey wanted, those easterners. I happen to know that the Greek Emperor began the whole business. He asked the Pope to send a few western knights to fight in the Greek army for the usual wages. Instead he gets this huge pilgrimage. I wonder how he will cope with us when we are all gathered in the city.”
“Do the Emperor’s wishes matter?” asked Tancred with a shrug. “So far he has given us food, and directions for the journey. But if we choose another road he can’t stop us, any more than he can stop us taking supplies by force. I hope he marches with us against the Turks, because then his mounted bowmen can skirmish with their mounted bowmen. We haven’t any troops of that kind. But if he prefers to stay at home we can manage without him.”
“My guess is that he won’t want to help us. You don’t realize how deeply Franks are hated over here. I’m glad you saw that point about the mounted bowmen. You will make a leader when you have some experience. I bet no other knight has spotted it, except my own followers who have fought Patzinaks and know how awkward they are to deal with. But the wishes of Alexius do matter. Get that into your head, young Tancred. He is brave and intelligent, and he has brave and intelligent men to serve him. Also he has nearly all the money in the world. If it comes to an open breach between the Greeks and the pilgrims he can put us in a very difficult position. I shall try to make friends with him. The trouble is that these Greeks can never make friends with any foreigner. They serve us if they must, and rule us if they can; but they will never treat a barbarian as an equal.”
“Perhaps we had better take over their empire. We could run it better than they do.” Tancred spoke idly, in a tone of casual speculation.
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