Count Bohemond

by Alfred Duggan

  “Then let’s end the siege at once,” said Count Raymond briskly. “The Turks must meet us at close quarters, and that’s what we have all been waiting for. We can’t blockade such a long wall, and battering or mining will be a waste of time. Let’s make scaling-ladders for the next three days, and then go straight up and use our swords. That is my proposal. Has anyone a better plan?”

  Bohemond had been thinking on more or less the same lines; but as soon as he heard Raymond’s plan he knew it must be wrong. Raymond had no feeling for military possibilities, or for what the lesser knights were thinking. So far they had not met a discouraging defeat; if they were now repulsed from the wall many pilgrims would go straight home. Besides, if Raymond proposed such a plan it must be to benefit the Greeks; he had become almost a Greek himself, so eager was he to serve the Emperor.

  Bohemond rose to speak. “I have faced many walls built by Greeks, at Durazzo and Corfu and elsewhere. They are always hard to capture, until they have been thoroughly battered. I say this escalade has no chance of success. Battery will be no use either, because we can’t get our engines close to the walls. We must extend our lines until the infidels are shut in. In the end they will starve. That may take a long time, but then I am used to long sieges. You have all heard how my father took Bari.”

  “Norman land-pirate,” exclaimed Raymond. “The Greek Emperor will lend us long-range siege-engines. If the escalade fails we must seek his help. Let me remind you that the Pope, who asked my advice before he preached this pilgrimage, told me that we must stay friendly with the Greeks. At that time, of course, he supposed that you gentlemen would choose me as your leader.”

  “If the Pope had appointed you leader those who came on this pilgrimage would have given you willing obedience,” answered Bohemond. “I for one would have stayed at home. Pope Urban does not know the full wickedness of the Greeks, who shot an arrow into his legate. Pope Urban is my personal friend also. Indeed he is my secular lord, the only lord to whom I owe fealty. Count Raymond serves lords of greater temporal power. He holds Toulouse from the King of France and Provence from the German Emperor. It is unfortunate that both these great lords should lie under the ban of the Church. I am sure that if either of them had happened to be in communion with Rome he would gladly have joined this pilgrimage. I am more fortunate. My temporal lord is also my spiritual lord. At the beginning of Pope Urban’s reign he remarked to me that the Normans of Apulia were the only secular rulers who recognized his authority. My father, by his own might, restored Rome to its true Bishop when the German Emperor held it for his anti-pope. Gentlemen, I have spoken at some length about past history, which has nothing to do with the campaign before us; because I want to kill once and for all the ridiculous rumour that Count Raymond enjoys some special degree of papal favour.”

  Of course Count Raymond jumped up to reply; a speech of such bitter personal animosity was unprecedented in the council of leaders. But Duke Godfrey intervened.

  “We are not now discussing the supreme command, or what were our relations with the Pope before we came on this pilgrimage. As most of you know, I served the Emperor Henry until I heard what had been decided at Clermont. I am still the Emperor’s faithful vassal, which in no way hinders me from fighting in defence of Christendom. This is a council of war to fix on an immediate plan of campaign. What shall we do, now that we have reached Antioch? Shall we try an escalade? That must be considered carefully. If it works, the Turks will be finished. No more trouble from them. They will not dare to hold Jerusalem against us. But supposing we are driven back? From this camp there can be no retreat. We hold the Iron Bridge, upstream. But the Turks hold the bridge here. If we begin to withdraw they can cross it, and we shall find them waiting for us on the right bank of the Orontes, between us and Romania. I don’t think we ought to start any large-scale fighting until we control the whole north bank of the Orontes. Let’s first block the Bridge Gate, and build a temporary bridge of our own. Then we can get in touch with the Christian pirates who are said to be holding the port of St. Simeon at the river mouth. When our communications with Europe are secure we can get on with the siege. Finally, though we may have differed about the powers of Pope and Emperor when we were at home, we came here to liberate the Holy Sepulchre. Until that has been done we are a band of brothers.”

  Others got up to report that their men had been shaken by the terrible crossing of the mountains, and that it would be better to postpone the assault. Most of them had already chosen sides in the quarrel between Bohemond and Raymond, and were unlikely to be swayed by a single speech. But Bohemond’s party was slightly more numerous, and the more often Raymond spoke the less he was liked. He was a prudent lord and a skilful diplomatist; but he did not look or sound like a mighty warrior.

  By the end of the council the plan for an escalade, without previous battery, had been shelved indefinitely. Bohemond still wondered whether he had been right to oppose it. If they could take the place in a sudden rush they might never have to fight Turks again. But it was true that if they were beaten they would have no way of retreat. Reluctantly, he uncovered the real reason why he had opposed it. No one had said anything about what would happen to Antioch afterwards.

  Antioch was his. In private Alexius had agreed that he should have it. He had not actually turned down the suggestion that Bohemond should be Grand Domestic, commander of all the Greek forces in the east. He had not accepted it either; it had been left on one side for further discussion. But Alexius had been willing to entrust Antioch to Bohemond.

  Afterwards Alexius had broken his side of the feudal compact, by refusing to march with the pilgrimage. So all the oaths sworn to him were void, and Bohemond need not hold Antioch as a vassal of the Greek Emperor. But that did not weaken the force of the gift: Bohemond was by right the Christian lord of a Christian Antioch. Perhaps the argument should not be examined too closely. If Alexius had the right to dispose of Antioch then his offer to Bohemond had been withdrawn; if the place was not his to give, then no particular pilgrim had more right to it than any other. But to think on these lines was mere legal pettifogging. Bohemond would be rightful lord of Antioch, because Antioch had been at the centre of his thoughts ever since he left Constantinople. He must take care that Raymond did not steal it from him.

  The Apulians continued to hold the left of the Christian line, opposite St. Paul’s Gate. On the right Duke Godfrey extended the line, prudently. All the boats between Antioch and the Iron Bridge were made into a pontoon bridge to the north bank. This bridge was almost opposite the Duke's Gate, which was thus closed to traffic. The main camp, with the stores and the non-combatants, was moved to the north bank of the river. When this camp had been suitably garrisoned the great Bridge Gate of Antioch was nearly blocked. A journey down river to St. Simeon was about equally hazardous to Christian and infidel.

  The pilgrims could not hope to invest Antioch; even their numbers were not enough for the task. But by extending their line they might block the gates on east, north and west, which would stop supplies to the infidel garrison. Only a trickle of messengers and reinforcements, without waggons or pack-animals, could get in by the rough tracks from the south which climbed Mount Silpius.

  To economize manpower they built counter-forts opposite each gate. The tower which covered St. Paul’s Gate and the road to the east was named Malregard; it was held by Apulian cross-bows, fed from Bohemond’s private stores. Since Count Raymond, on his right, was so often sick with fever, Duke Godfrey took over the blockade of the Bridge Gate; here the winding river ran close to the walls; siege-engines were set up as well as another tower.

  That left open only one big gate, St. George’s, on the left bank of the river at the head of the main road to Syria. But it was very close to the Christian cross-bows on the right bank, and the infidels used it with reluctance. Soon there would be hunger in Antioch.

  Bohemond found, to his astonishment, that it was fairly easy to discover what was happening in the town. Eve
ry day Christian peasants visited his camp with small luxuries for sale, a handful of radishes or perhaps the virtue of a daughter. Probably some of them were spies; but that could not be prevented and in any case it did no harm. The Christian army was very numerous, very well armed, and for the present adequately fed. Unwarlike spies reporting to the Turks would not make it sound less frightening than it was.

  Then Tancred came to him with a strange story. “Some of the locals in our camp are not peasants; they are burgesses of Antioch. Among themselves they speak Arabic, supposing that no Frank can understand it. They cross the ridge of Mount Silpius, and wander down the slope until they come into camp from the south. What is really amazing is why they come. They visit us to compare prices. They have food hidden and don’t care which side buys it. If the Turks offer famine prices they will get it; as soon as we begin to starve it will come to us.”

  “Do you mean they don’t care who rules them?”

  “They don’t. Disgusting, isn’t it? If you question these men you can find out what is happening in Antioch.”

  “Then catch one and bring him here. I should like to know more about the domestic affairs of the Turks. Taticius is quite out of his depth on this side of the mountains.”

  When the man was brought in he explained, of course, that he had left his wealthy home to throw in his lot with his Christian deliverers. He did not intend to return to Antioch. Bohemond pointed out that, according to his own story, he had left his wife and children in the town. Unattached grass-widowers were not trustworthy recruits. If he would bring his family and his money the pilgrims would welcome him. Meanwhile he might go freely back to Antioch, and report all he had seen, if in return he would tell all he knew of what was happening in the town.

  When the interview was ended Bohemond turned cheerfully to Tancred. “I begin to see why the Turks claim to be sprung from the same stock as the Franks. Their political arrangements are very like ours. I wish I could pronounce the name of the present lord of Antioch; but Cassian is the nearest I can get to it. Cassian is a vassal, there is no doubt of that. But three different Turkish emirs claim his fealty; at one time or another he has given his oath to all three, and made war on all three. So while three Turkish armies are gathering to relieve him he is not quite sure that he wants to be relieved. If he can beat us off by his own power he will be independent, but whoever relieves him will certainly be his lord. Have I got it right?”

  “I think so,” answered Tancred. “I can’t manage these Turkish names either. You need another set of teeth half-way down your throat to do it properly. But I can manage the names of the places. His suzerains are the lords of Aleppo and Damascus, fairly close; and the lord of Mosul who lives further off but is more powerful. Yet Cassian has ruled Antioch for the last ten years. He must be clever at managing his superiors. I hope he is not equally clever in war.”

  “He may be clever, but he’s not enterprising. We have been here for more than a fortnight, and he has done nothing. If he sticks behind his wall we must get him in the end.”

  Chapter XI - Christmas in the Field

  By mid-November the siege had settled into a routine. The walls of Antioch were so strong that only a few sentries were needed to guard against sudden escalade. The Turks never sallied out, and seldom shot arrows.

  In fact the besiegers saw more of the Christian burgesses than of the infidels. These burgesses were not too badly oppressed by Turkish rule. They reported that until recently the cathedral had remained open and the Patriarch had functioned freely; though since the siege began the cathedral had been used as a stable and the Patriarch had vanished into a dungeon. One day a cage was hung half-way down the wall by the Bridge Gate, the only stretch of wall which could be battered by the engines of the besiegers. Almost immediately it became known that the Patriarch was in this cage. The engines could not be used. A dirty trick, the pilgrims agreed; but few of them had expected the engines to harm the wall anyway.

  Bohemond and Tancred had both thought of buying a way in, as soon as they found they could talk with the inhabitants. It was an idea that would occur spontaneously to any Norman of Apulia. A large proportion of the garrison were renegades from Christianity, warriors who would rather bear arms for the Devil than not bear arms at all. Such men might be bribed to change sides again. The difficulty was to get in touch with them.

  “It’s our best chance, all the same,” said Bohemond to his nephew. “In fact it’s our only chance. Those walls are too strong for us. It may take a long time, but in the end we shall find our traitor. Such a numerous garrison must have at least one rogue in it.” In spite of the mounting cost of food they kept a bag of gold handy for when he should appear.

  Bohemond was worried because in the ever-shifting opinions of the ordinary pilgrims, his prestige was sinking as Raymond’s rose. He had been the first leader to reach Antioch, but from the beginning of the siege his men had been busy before St. Paul’s Gate. Now Godfrey was sick; which meant that Raymond was in charge of all the new and exciting developments towards the west. The south French built the bridge of boats and the camp north of the river; they were feeling their way to clear the coast road.

  Though the Turks of Antioch did nothing, other Turkish bands were becoming a nuisance. There were rumours of an army of relief mustering in the south, though it was unlikely that the lord of Antioch would be glad to see them. Another band, of uncertain allegiance, held the town of Harenc to the eastward, beyond the great bend in the river. These were enterprising men, who made a habit of intercepting parties of Armenian merchants coming down from the mountains to the Iron Bridge. Bohemond, anxious to perform some exploit that would keep him in the news, decided to deal with them.

  It ought to be easy, if everyone did as he was told. Unfortunately the Armenians would not. Bohemond wanted to use one of their convoys as bait, while he himself lay in wait for the raiders from Harenc. But when he explained his plan the Armenians said it was too dangerous. There was nothing for it but to risk good Frankish Apulians. A party of sick, looking more debilitated than they felt, marched slowly across the Iron Bridge from the south, as though to recuperate in the mountains.

  Even Apulians would not obey orders to the letter; though they should have known, after more than a year oversea, that a plan devised by Bohemond would work out safely. As soon as the infidels appeared some of them drew their swords and stood firm, instead of running away with cries of terror. Bohemond had to gallop out of his counter-ambush to rescue them, when he had hoped that the Turks would ride by him at close range.

  But everything came right in the end. Bohemond had not asked these invalids to stand and fight, because a lord cannot sacrifice his own followers even to gain a military advantage; but when they fought of their own free will they absorbed all the attention of the infidel. It was always easy for mailed knights to kill Turks, if they could catch them. Bohemond’s knights killed all the Turks before they had time to kill more than two Apulians.

  After the knights had searched the money-belts of the dead and rounded up spare horses they prepared to ride back to camp. But Bohemond believed in pressing his luck, once luck had shown itself in his favour. “I wonder how many Turks are left in Harenc?” he said. “Here are a great many dead, perhaps the whole band. The simplest way to find out whether Harenc is empty is to go and see.” He led his knights eastward.

  Harenc was unwalled, though a little castle stood in the middle of it. Bohemond found a Greek inhabitant who admitted that he could speak Turkish.

  “You are going into the castle to give a message to the infidels,” he said. “Perhaps they will kill you as soon as you enter; but I shall certainly kill you if you do not, so you had better try it. Tell the Turks to send out someone who speaks Arabic to negotiate a peaceful surrender. I have men in my following who know Arabic.”

  After an interval the Greek emerged from the castle, though he prudently scuttled away to hide in the town. He was followed by a Turk, mounted but unarmed, who rode s
teadily towards the Christian banner.

  “Ralph, you will interpret,” said Bohemond to a knight from Sicily. “They mean to yield. I never heard of a garrison that began to parley and didn’t surrender at the end of it. Offer them the usual terms. We may as well keep the rules of war. They may take their arms and anything else they can carry, so long as they leave the castle empty and undamaged.”

  After a brief conversation in Arabic Ralph asked for further instructions.

  “They will go if they may take everything that moves. He means their women and children, their cattle and spare horses.”

  “Obstinate, aren’t they? I have something to persuade them, but we won’t mention it just yet. Spare horses, no; one horse for each warrior. Cattle, of course not; we lack beef more than they do. Women and children; that’s a poser. As pilgrims we ought to keep away from Turkish concubines but some of their women will be captive Christians. Tell him this: Women and children are to come out singly, on foot. Each will be questioned by a respectable Christian woman of Harenc. Those who wish may go with their husbands. Those who choose to stay in a Christian land may do so. See what he says to that.”

  Some knights looked disappointed. They were pilgrims fighting in a holy cause, but a Turkish concubine or two would help to pass the long winter evenings. However, there was no point in saying that to Count Bohemond, who was notoriously indifferent to female society.

  In a few minutes the interpreter was back again.

  “Your terms are refused, my lord. The man says that Turks don’t care about castles, they would just as soon live in tents. But their animals and women are their wealth. They will fight to keep them. He added that they need hold the castle only for a few days. An army is gathering in Damascus for the relief of Antioch, and soon we must retire. That may be a lie; but he said it as though he believed it.”