That went down well. They pressed him to continue, and Tancred smiled encouragement.
“To begin with, there is the matter of Count Raymond. You all know that we seldom agree, and you may suppose that I want to leave him out of the battle, since by mischance he is too weak to ride. On the contrary I ask him to defend Antioch while the ablebodied pilgrims are north of the river. The Turks in the castle are sure to attack downhill as soon as they see us cross the bridge. That’s why they are there. My lord legate, will you ask Count Raymond to hold our new wall against them? He can lie behind it in a litter, in his mail, and stand only when there is fighting to be done. There are about two hundred other knights who are too sick to ride or march, and a great number of clerks and other noncombatants. All these will help Count Raymond to defend his wall. If Antioch is taken while we are fighting in the plain we shall be finished. Count Raymond has a most responsible task. It’s really too much to ask of a sick man; but for more than a year we have all been running the most fantastic risks. So I beg him to display his knightly valour in this duty. I am confident that he will accept.”
All the leaders were surprised and pleased. This was how rivals in the same army should compete with one another. By birth Count Bohemond might be only a Hauteville, but he displayed the sentiments of a paladin.
“The rest of us will march out in many small companies, every man under the banner of his chosen lord. Every man, you understand. Knights, sergeants, cross-bows, archers, spearmen, grooms, all in line and closed up. Any knight who still has a horse may ride it, to carry the weight of his mail until we meet the foe, but we all keep in line and advance at the pace of the foot. If I have judged our numbers correctly our line should stretch from the river to the mountains, so the infidels can meet us only in front. Agreed?”
There was a babble of questions. Who would go first? What would happen if the Turks attacked them as they crossed the bridge?
“We want the Turks to close. If they charge us as we cross the bridge they can’t at the same time shoot arrows from a distance. In that case we push them back until our left wing rests on the mountains before we turn right-handed to attack their camp. That’s quite simple. As to our order of march, let’s stick to. precedence because everyone knows it. The Count of Vermandois leads the van. But remember that he is also entitled to take the right of the line; so as soon as he is across the river he halts, turns right, and waits for those coming behind him to take post on his left. Duke Godfrey leads the largest mesnie, so he commands the main body. Count Tancred and I, with the Normans of Apulia, march in the rear and take post on the left. The legate will I suppose carry the Holy Lance, the chief banner of the whole army. So he must be somewhere in the centre. The rest of you sort yourselves out, as formally as if you were walking in procession to a wedding. But remember—every Count in the middle of his own mesnie, knights at the head of their own men, no division between horse and foot. That’s what matters. We can take our time about arranging the column, in the main street behind the closed Bridge Gate. Muster tomorrow, immediately after the dawn Mass. Eat what you can tonight. Tomorrow night we shall feast, either in Heaven or in a peaceful Antioch.”
The meeting broke up in a buzz of congratulations. But as Bohemond walked back to his quarters Tancred seized him by the arm.
“Uncle, you have given us the lowest place and the hardest fighting. I don’t complain of that, the Normans of Apulia can do it. But what happens if Count Raymond seizes Antioch while we are fighting, and won’t allow us back?”
“He can’t seize Antioch without the castle, and he’s too sick to capture it. I believe. Does it matter if he tries to keep us out? By this time tomorrow, what will I be?”
“Dead, I suppose, with the rest of us,” said Tancred without hesitation.
“Very likely. But we have faced one mad risk after another since we left the city, and here we are. I think God must be really helping us, though we don’t deserve it. But if we beat the Turks tomorrow I shall be the leader of the whole pilgrimage. The south French will have fought under my command. If Count Raymond tries to keep me out of Antioch his vassals won’t obey him. I shall be the most famous knight and the most worshipful in all Christendom.”
“If we win, you will be. It’s a new kind of battle, and we might win. I for one don’t expect it. But a lot of Turks will be killed, and our vow will be fulfilled. I suppose you and I have ancestors buried on every battlefield in Europe, Vikings and such. We shall be buried in Syria, a long way from Normandy. That is the right end for Normans. I am content.”
“It will be a good end. Make sure you kill plenty of Turks first. See you in the morning after Mass.”
The 28th of June 1098 dawned fine, with a promise of great heat later. After Mass the pilgrims assembled in the main street of Antioch, a broad avenue leading to the Bridge Gate. Bohemond still had a horse, though it was very weak; to spare the miserable beast he rode a donkey as he arrayed the column. The crowd stretched from the gate right up the slope to the temporary wall where Count Raymond lay on his litter, and Bohemond must continually move up and down the slope to get the men in order.
There could be no argument about the precedence of Count Hugh, brother to the King of France; and any unattached north Frenchmen were proud to march under his banner. So it all began easily enough, once the knights had grasped that they must really mingle with the common foot. Bohemond had feared a quarrel about the right to second place; luckily those disinterested pilgrims, the Count of Flanders and the Duke of Normandy, had reached a private agreement. Some might say that a Duke should go before a Count; but there was only one Count of Flanders whereas the King of England disputed Normandy with his brother. So the Flemings came second and the Normans third. Normans were the best knights in the world, but north Frenchmen and Flemings were nearly as good. The right wing would be formidable.
Duke Godfrey led the main body, divided into three corps. Luckily two excellent subordinate commanders were available, the Counts of Toul and of St. Pol; they were neighbours of the Duke of Lorraine and were themselves of lesser rank so that they could obey his orders without loss of dignity. Duke Godfrey understood exactly what Bohemond planned to do, and had promised not to advance until the line was fully formed. He could control his men.
The third battle was the most tricky to array. The south French, of course, were willing to follow Bishop Adhemar since Count Raymond was too sick to lead them. But the small contingent from Brittany did not like to march behind the small contingent from Aquitaine, though neither was led by a very great lord. The Gascons complained that they had been insulted, as happened to them far too often. Since they could not have the right of the line they insisted on taking the extreme left. The only way to get them on the field was to transfer them to Tancred’s rearguard, where they would march behind the Apulians. Bishop Adhemar could be trusted to keep the main line in order. He was in fact an extremely skilful commander, as he had shown at Dorylaeum; but he thought it his duty as a Bishop to obey the orders of any lay nobleman on the field. So long as he kept possession of the Holy Lance none of his men would charge before he gave the signal.
After two hours of hot and exasperated shouting Bohemond had his army in array. Every pilgrim understood that he must march across the bridge and keep going until he took post on the left of those in front. Then he must stand still until the whole line was in order, and advance only when he got the command. Never before had any of them gone into battle like that. As a rule Christian armies marched in the order in which they would fight. But never before had knights marched out on foot from the shelter of strong walls to attack ten times their number of horsemen. Never before had anyone fought in such a desperate attack. Bohemond was the only pilgrim who knew his own mind, the only pilgrim who had a plan. They trusted him.
At last Bohemond climbed on a tower beside the bridge, and commanded that the gate should be opened. As he saw Hugh of Vermandois ride out, a magnificent figure in princely mail on a very thin
horse, he looked across the river. Splendid. On the far bank were only a few Turkish skirmishers; the main body of the infidels were still in camp. He could get his army over the river without fighting.
He waited only long enough to make sure that Count Hugh was following instructions. When the north French were in line and Godfrey ready to march he came down and joined his own mesnie, the hindmost detachment in the column. There was a nerve-racking wait before he got through the gate, but he could hear no sound of battle. The Turks must be waiting to receive the attack of the pilgrims. This was going to be easier than he had feared.
At last he rode through the gate, into sunshine and a brisk west wind which seemed another world from stinking Antioch. On his right were the backs of the van, in their proper place. When he had led his men to the far left, so that the Christian line stretched from river to mountain, the charge could begin. All was going well.
Then a mass of Turks charged him head on, riding in close to use their sabres. These were not skirmishing bowmen, they were desperate heroes; and there were a great many of them. The column of Apulians and Gascons widened into a solid clump; but they still advanced, very slowly.
It was hard to see what was happening in the dust-cloud, among the hoofs of excited ponies. But the foot stood shoulder to shoulder, and the few mounted knights did not charge. This could be Dorylaeum over again, without the arrows which had made that battle so dangerous. Turks could not break into the solid clump of western swords. On both sides men fell, but it did not occur to Bohemond that he might be in personal danger. His great size and his mail had brought him out of many such fights in the past.
His men kept together, but the numbers of the enemy began to push them back. This would never do. He understood what was happening. These Turks were trying to take the Christian line in the rear; he must drive them off, or Bishop Adhemar would be surrounded. Tancred was a length ahead, standing his ground while the others retired; a Turk was behind him. Bohemond pushed forward to guard his nephew’s back.
If the Turkish commander had any sense he would leave enough men to keep the Apulians busy and still go on to take the pilgrims in the rear. But no Turkish savage would think so clearly in the heat of battle. All the same, the Christians were in great danger. If the Apulians were driven to retreat the pilgrims would be fighting back to back, unable to charge in any direction. At all costs he must hold his ground.
It was not the kind of fighting his men understood. They could charge, or they could die bravely if hope was gone. But they had never before been told to hold firm in the open, in line. They must learn it now. He shouted to his Apulians that the Gascons were holding, and then edged along until he could tell the Gascons to stand their ground like Apulians. For a short time that would keep them steady.
Then Christians came up from behind; not fugitives but reinforcements. The Count of Toul shouted that all was going well in the attack on the Turkish camp, and that Duke Godfrey had sent him to help.
That was very good news in itself; and even better as showing that Duke Godfrey understood the plan of battle and had the main body under control. The Turks began to yield ground. Presently they broke off close action and began shooting arrows. Someone among them set fire to the dry grass, either as a signal to Curbaram or to cover his retreat. Arrows still came out of the foul black smoke, but the danger of defeat was past.
Rainaid of Toul was shouting something. Now that he was not using his sword Bohemond could hear. “The Saints have left Heaven to fight for us. We all saw them, St. George and St. Demetrius and St. Mercury, riding white horses and bearing white banners. They charged down from the mountain and Curbaram fled before them. We have taken his pavilion and all his camp.”
“Then those men in front of us will retreat, though certainly we haven’t beaten them,” said Bohemond. “I should like to have seen St. George. It’s a pity I was fighting with my back to him. Did you get a close look at his mail? Have the armourers of Heaven any dodge that we haven’t yet thought of on earth?”
“They all saw him,” said Tancred severely. “I suppose we were not worthy of such a vision, and I’m not surprised. It is not an occasion for jokes. This whole battle has been a miracle. Men on foot charged ten times their number of horsemen, and drove them from the field. Look, it’s not long after midday. I never expected to see another sunset, and I’m still alive. I wonder whether there is anything left in the Turkish camp, and whether this poor starved nag can carry me there. Have I permission to leave your banner?”
“It’s too late. There will be nothing left, and you might get into a fight with the south French. No, we shall bind up our wounds, strip the infidel dead and collect our own for burial; and then return, slowly, to my good town of Antioch. As for a miracle, this battle went exactly according to plan, the plan you and I devised together. Any miracle was performed by us.”
Bohemond was too excited and gratified to display the modesty appropriate to a hero.
They slouched back, leading their foundered horses over a plain dotted with corpses. There was not a living infidel in sight, as the Count of Toul remarked in wonder. “Except up there,” answered Bohemond with a jerk of the head. “That’s an infidel banner on the castle. But the commandant must have seen the whole battle. Unless he is a very steadfast hero he will now be looking for a safe way out of there.”
They entered a town that was already drunk with joy and relief. Christian burgesses, and stragglers from the pilgrim foot, were bringing in the first plunder of the Turkish camp. For the first time for eight months no armed foes threatened Antioch.
As the Apulians entered the Bridge Gate a clerk hailed Bohemond. “My lord, will you please go and see Count Raymond at once? He is too weak to come down here, and so he sends his apologies for not waiting on the conqueror of Curbaram. He is now arranging the surrender of the castle, and he needs your help.”
“Come, that’s very civil of him,” Bohemond grinned with delight. “I’m not so spry as I was thirty years ago, but I shall be pleased to wait on the mighty Count of Provence. Run and tell him that I am on my way.” He must go on foot, for his horse could do no more.
Count Raymond sat in his litter, for he was still too weak to stand in full mail. Around him were a group of unarmed Turks. He saluted the conquering hero with a wave of his hand, and then lay back in a faint. He was really very sick, and he had done his duty to the full.
The infidels recognized Bohemond at once. They knew that in the pilgrim army there were two champions taller than ordinary men, and that the elder was Bohemond. One of them spoke in Greek.
“My lord, we wish to yield, if you will grant us the usual terms of honourable capitulation: free passage with horse and arms and what else we can carry. We sent down to ask for your banner, but this lord gave us his instead. That would not do at all, and our commander sent it back. We will surrender only to the mighty Bohemond, the conqueror of our lord Kerbogha, the great leader of the Christian host who can guarantee us protection. If you will now send up your banner you will be welcome in your castle when you wish to enter it.”
“Since the walls of the castle are intact those terms are fair. Take my banner. I shall enter my castle before nightfall. Would you like an escort of my men, to see you safe into Turkish territory?”
“Some of us would be glad of an escort, my lord. Others have been impressed by your miraculous victory. Your god must be the stronger and we intend to worship him. When your priests have admitted us into your religion we should like to take service in your horde, for we know no trade save war.”
“That’s a very sensible idea. I came east to kill infidels, but converting them will do just as well. Those who intend to become Christians may remain in the castle, and I shall send priests to instruct them. Now be off with you.”
He turned to a servant who stood by Count Raymond’s litter.
“Tell your lord, when he recovers from his faint, that for the moment the war is over. He will find me in the castle of my go
od town of Antioch. Of course he may remain in my town until he has thrown off his fever. I don’t press him to leave at once. But these matters can wait until we are both at leisure. Give him my congratulations on his gallant conduct today. While I won the battle he sat his litter like a true knight.”
Chapter XVI - The Lordship of Antioch
On the night after the great battle no one slept very much. Bohemond and Tancred inspected the castle, and tried to make up their minds about these Turks who wanted to change their religion. It was the kind of problem that Bohemond had faced often before, when foreign mercenaries sought to enlist under his banner. Were these men just well-armed bullies, who made an easy living by looking fierce and who would run away from any tight place? Were they genuinely willing to fight as Christians, or had they chosen the easiest way of dodging captivity? What was the standard of fidelity among their people? Were they expected to die fighting to save their lord, like a Frankish knight? Or did they at once overthrow a beaten commander, like Greeks, and try again under another leader?
Of course they were looking their worst, like any other member of a garrison driven to surrender. It was an added difficulty that few of them spoke Greek, or Arabic which Tancred could understand.
In the end Tancred made up his mind for him. On a weekday, after a stiff battle, Bohemond was inclined to forget religious differences. Tancred reminded him that an infidel who had submitted to baptism would be killed at once by any other infidel who caught him; in the Holy War these recruits could not change sides again. The Turks were allotted to various Apulian mesnies, exhorted to learn Frankish as soon as they could, and baptized by a compliant priest before their religious instruction had begun. Henceforth the way back was closed to them.
Count Bohemond Page 28