“Have you changed your plans? I thought you were going to remain in Antioch while the rest of us marched on to Jerusalem? I hope you won’t ask me to stay and hold Antioch for you. I want to be the first man on the wall of the Holy City. I won’t stay behind to fight Greeks when I might be fighting infidels.”
“I was carried away by my admiration for Bishop Adhemar. A holy man and a leader who always brought his knights to the charge at exactly the right time in exactly the right place. Do you remember him at Dorylaeum? If we had all backed him up when we first crossed the Iron Bridge we might have won Antioch in a rush, without all the miseries of the siege. You don’t expect to find those two qualities in the same man. I spoke without thinking. When I entered the cathedral I didn’t intend to say anything.”
After a pause he continued. “Of course I shall fulfil this vow. I usually keep my solemn promises. But I haven’t changed my plans, and I see a way out. There was no time-limit to my vow. Remember that I am under another vow, to finish the pilgrimage by hearing Mass in the Holy Sepulchre. I can fulfil them both at the same time—one day. One day when I am secure in Antioch. Quite soon I shall be secure in Antioch. The death of the legate is a loss to us all, but it is a much heavier loss to Raymond. The legate was so scrupulous in deference to his lay lord that it looked to some ignorant pilgrims as though the Count of Toulouse had the support of the Church. That won’t be true any longer. Some clerks, I know, don’t like the way Raymond clings to the Holy Lance as though the relic had been revealed to the south French only, instead of to the whole pilgrimage. Besides, he is much too friendly with the Greek Bishops.”
“Well, so are you, Uncle. That’s another thing. Aren’t they all schismatics, who ought to be thrown out of their Sees? There are holy clerks in the pilgrimage who have marched and fought all the way from Europe. They deserve a reward for their valour.”
“They will be rewarded, after the government of these parts has been settled. You must learn how to be a pilgrim, my boy. It isn’t enough to charge gallantly against the infidel; not enough for you to grab a fief worthy of a Hauteville amid this band of pious and ravening wolves. Patriarch John has never fallen into schism, and he has suffered as a Confessor for the Faith. All Christians should support him, as I do. But no one comes out of a Turkish dungeon as strong as he went in. In a year or so the Patriarchate of Antioch will be vacant, and the secular lord will select a suitable candidate, Latin or Greek. If a successor were needed this minute the choice would be made by the council of leaders. You understand?”
“Yes indeed. I am only half a Hauteville and I don’t see these things as quickly as you do. A pilgrim’s life is more complicated than it seemed when I landed at Durazzo.”
“The life of a successful pilgrim. Any good knight can win martyrdom, but you want to lay a sound foundation for the future. That gets easier every day. Count Raymond is out of luck.”
Count Raymond was indeed out of luck. On the 3rd of August, two days after the legate’s funeral, Peter Bartholomew announced that he had been granted another vision. It was a most embarrassing announcement.
The disreputable discoverer of the Holy Lance had been living softly in the household of Count Raymond, while his lord gained great esteem as guardian of the precious relic. But Peter had never forgiven the legate for his tepid reception of the great discovery. Now he said that St. Andrew had again appeared to him in sleep. St. Andrew announced that Bishop Adhemar had very nearly been condemned to Hell for his disbelief in the Holy Lance, and had barely been saved by the combined prayers of all the pilgrims. He also laid down a programme for the future. The whole army of the pilgrimage must set out for Jerusalem by November at latest—all prelates of the Greek rite must be expelled, whether they were schismatic or heretical or in full communion with the Pope—their benefices must be given to worthy Latins—Bohemond should be recognized as lord of Antioch as soon as he had installed a Latin Patriarch.
When Bohemond heard of this he rode in state to call on the Patriarch John, and in the evening gave a feast in his honour. No Greek could doubt that he was a faithful son of the Universal Church, admitting the right of any prelate in communion with Rome to conduct his liturgy in his accustomed language. Meanwhile poor Count Raymond was in an awkward dilemma. Most pilgrims believed that Peter Bartholomew must be a rogue, and his Lance a bogus relic, since he cast doubt on the sanctity of the holy and gallant Bishop Adhemar; but Raymond was so fully committed to reverence for the Lance that he could not give it up without looking very foolish.
Bohemond saw that time was working for him, and Antioch was by now a most unpleasant town to stay in. He rode north to Cilicia, where he received the homage of several isolated Latin garrisons. If Alexius should march on Antioch this barrier of fortified towns would cushion the shock. Any Franks who felt themselves in danger were glad to seek protection from the mighty Bohemond, whatever the legal rights of the position; he was acknowledged to be the best knight in the whole pilgrimage.
By September the plague had abated in Antioch, and the leaders returned. Godfrey called them to a meeting in the cathedral of St. Peter, where they all sealed a letter to the Pope. They had just learned that Alexius had returned to the city with all his men, and could not appear in Syria before next summer at the earliest. Obviously he took no further interest in the pilgrimage; he had used the Franks to crush the Turks of Anatolia, and now the sooner they were destroyed by the infidel the better he would be pleased.
The letter to Pope Urban asked for another legate in place of the late Bishop of Le Puy; all the pilgrims were unanimous on that point, since none of them knew the rights and duties of the native clergy. Raymond suggested that the Pope should be invited to come out in person, to take command of the whole expedition. Bohemond seconded the suggestion, which duly found a place in the letter. It was unlikely that the Bishop of Rome would have time to manage Antioch as well, since the care of those two great Sees at once had been too much for St. Peter. But each of the rivals for the lordship of Antioch was certain that his close personal friend, Urban, would back his claim. Either of them would have submitted if the Pope in person had decided against him.
Godfrey and Raymond went off together to plunder the infidel lands to the east. Bohemond remained in hungry and battered Antioch, where he was lord of all the walls and towers except a little patch on either side of the Bridge Gate. No one could convince the natives that he was not the official commander of the whole pilgrimage. They had seen him lead the army in battle against Curbaram. He was the most gallant and most terrible of all these foreign knights. It was widely believed that he and Tancred together dined every day on two thousand oxen and four thousand swine. When pilgrims tried to explain that they were governed by a council of equal nobles the Syrians admired all the more the cunning of these deceitful foreigners.
On the 5th of November the council of leaders met again in the cathedral of St. Peter. Ostensibly they were gathered to plan the advance on Jerusalem; but for the first time the question of the lordship of Antioch was openly discussed. Bohemond would not plead in person to claim property for himself, fearing for his dignity ; but he had briefed a group of friends to speak on his behalf. They made two points: that Alexius had withdrawn from the Holy War, and that Bohemond was competent to defend this vital fortress. Raymond answered that the Emperor might now be on his way to Antioch, and that every pilgrim was still bound by the oaths sworn in the city. The other leaders favoured Bohemond, or at least did not oppose him; but none of them would speak openly to advocate the breaking of a sworn oath. The discussion continued for several days, and decided nothing. Some of the lesser knights were so bored with their long delay in Antioch that they threatened to pull down its walls unless the leaders soon marched on Jerusalem.
At the end of the month Raymond and the Count of Flanders laid siege to the infidel town of Marra. After a few days of hesitation Bohemond followed with all his men, save for those holding the castle of Antioch. Marra was a very strong f
ortress, and the pilgrims had no siege engines. On the 11th of December they broke in by escalade. In a long day of confused and bitter fighting some assaults were thrown back and others gained a lodgement on the walls. At sunset Bohemond sent one of his baptized Turks to offer quarter to all infidels who would assemble in a certain mansion beside the main gate. Next morning the pilgrims burst in, and the south French took particular pains to kill all those infidels who had trusted in Bohemond’s offer of protection.
Duke Godfrey and the clergy just managed to prevent open war between the Apulians and the south French; but Marra during that melancholy Christmas seemed to be Antioch over again. Raymond held most of the town but Bohemond hung on to a few towers on the wall; his men built barricades and allowed no foreigners to enter. Just to make things worse, there was very little to eat.
Peter Bartholomew did what he could to help his lord. He related more visions, in which the pilgrims were commanded to march at once on Jerusalem. The Apulians replied by denouncing the Holy Lance as a blatant forgery. On St. Stephen’s Day a mob of common foot and lesser knights clamoured that if Raymond would advance without delay they would obey him as commanderin-chief of the whole pilgrimage.
Bohemond at once withdrew to Antioch, though Tancred and some other knights pointed out that they must help to free Jerusalem even if it meant serving Raymond. Raymond himself hovered undecided. At last he had been offered supreme command of the pilgrimage, the goal he had sought since he left Toulouse ; but if he accepted he must say good-bye to Antioch. He accepted in words; and then moved to Rugia, half-way between Marra and Antioch, ostensibly to prepare for the great march.
The pilgrimage was breaking up. Most of the lesser men were starving at Marra, the Apulians were in Antioch, the other great lords were said to be conferring with Raymond at Rugia. But on the morrow of Epiphany important guests arrived in Antioch, Duke Godfrey, Duke Robert, the Count of Flanders and Count Tancred. They were escorted only by a few of Tancred’s Apulians, which showed that they came in peace.
Antioch was beginning to revive, largely because of its new trade with Genoa. The south French still blocked the Bridge Gate, but there was a road fit for horses from St. George’s Gate to the castle. The leaders could ride all the way, and Bohemond had time to turn out a guard of honour to welcome them.
Soon they were seated in the great hall, in careful order of precedence. Pages set wine before them, and a squire carved with lavish flourishes the last joint of pickled pork in the store room, for all Syria was hungry. Bohemond, standing to receive his guests, waited for Duke Godfrey to speak first; but Tancred could not keep silent, though he was the least of the company.
“Uncle,” he burst out. “Count Raymond has offered me a bribe. Worse, he offered it publicly, in the presence of these gentlemen. He is now in Marra. Come with me, and bring all your men, so that we can burn the town over his head.”
“Please don’t, Count Bohemond,” said Godfrey. “He didn’t mean it as a bribe, and he made the same offer to all of us. Count Raymond has his own views of the conduct proper to a good knight. But we must live with him if we are to liberate the Holy Sepulchre. It’s odd—he is well born—the Pope likes him—Bishop Adhemar was his faithful vassal—yet sometimes it seems to me that Count Raymond lacks the instincts of a gentleman.”
“You heard that, my dear Tancred?” said the Duke of Normandy with a chuckle. “Isn’t that all the revenge you want? Better than if you were to ride Raymond with a saddle and bridle after the German fashion? Godfrey says Raymond lacks the instincts of a gentleman, and he has said it before witnesses. A melancholy occasion it was, too. The only time in my life when someone has offered me a large sum of money and I have been compelled to refuse it. I can still hear the chink of those lovely silver pieces.”
“Will someone please tell me exactly what happened?” begged Bohemond.
“Count Raymond invited us to confer with him in Rugia,” Godfrey explained. “The common pilgrims have offered to recognize him as leader if he will march at once on Jerusalem; and he thought, most wisely, that his position would be stronger if we also would obey him. He suggested that we might serve him as vassals in return for a money-fief. Not a bribe at all, Count Tancred. We have money-fiefs in the German Empire, and respectable noblemen take them. All the same, we turned down the offer. For one thing, we came out here as pilgrims, not as mercenary soldiers. For another, I’m not sure that to accept the military direction of Count Raymond might not incur some of the guilt of suicide. But if he marches I must march too, to care for the common pilgrims and save them from the infidel.”
“How much did he think you were worth?” asked Bohemond. “Forgive my vulgar curiosity, but that’s the first question everyone will ask.”
“Ten thousand silver solidi for me,” said the Duke of Normandy sadly. “I could have used every penny of it, and the amount will always be engraved on my memory. If he had made it gold pieces I might have sold my honour. But perhaps if he has all that money he will leave some of it to me in his will,” he added in a more cheerful tone. “Ten thousand to Duke Godfrey, six thousand to the Count of Flanders. He thought Count Tancred would come cheaper, so he offered him only five thousand.”
“I see. He was hiring your knights at so much a head,” Bohemond summed up. “Tancred, you ought to feel flattered. Apulians are valued higher than Normans of Normandy. You haven’t half as many knights as Duke Robert. The money came from Alexius, of course. But Greeks are not often so crude. A real Greek would have wrapped up the bribe more gracefully. That means that Alexius has no agent among the pilgrims, except the maladroit Raymond. A cheering thought. All the same, you intend to march with him, if he gets the army moving? I suppose you are right, but I shall stay to hold Antioch.”
On the 13th of January 1099 Raymond marched from Marra. His faithful followers burned the town behind him, lest he be tempted to turn back. The garrison of the Bridge Gate of Antioch followed him; and so, after an interval, did the other leaders of the pilgrimage. Only Bohemond remained, sole lord of Antioch.
Chapter XVII - Accomplishment
The 24th of December 1099 was the first Christmas Eve for more than 450 years on which free, armed Christians might celebrate the Nativity in Bethlehem. The great marble basilica built by the great Constantine was packed to overflowing. Many of the congregation had been there all day, to make sure of getting in; but places had been kept for the distinguished lords come down from the north, Bohemond of Antioch and Baldwin of Edessa, and tall Tancred had pushed his way in to kneel beside his uncle.
The Midnight Mass of Christmas, after the Latin rite which was now the only use in Bethlehem, was to be offered by Daimbert, Archbishop of Pisa, the newly arrived papal legate with the pilgrimage. The new legate was evidently as tough as his predecessor; for he proposed, after offering the Midnight and Dawn Masses in the Church of the Nativity, to ride to Jerusalem and sing the Morning Mass of Christmas within the Holy Sepulchre. Of course he had been fasting throughout the Vigil of Christmas, and he must continue the fast until dinner on Christmas Day.
When the clergy entered Bohemond had been kneeling on the marble pavement for some hours. This was the very place, the very time, of the Incarnation; the manger in which God had become Man was only a few feet away. To be free to kneel here at this hour the best knights in Christendom had left their homes; for three years they had marched and fought, until the greater part of them were dead; but the survivors had accomplished all they set out to do. Tears streamed down Bohemond’s cheeks as he tried to thank God for the Incarnation. Then he began to pray for the souls of dead comrades. But they were martyrs who had gone straight to Heaven. They would not need his prayers.
He was accustomed to long hours in church, to kneeling on bare stone pavements. But it was difficult, tonight of all nights, to keep secular thoughts out of his head. Our Lady had lain on this spot of earth in the agony of childbirth, while St. Joseph cleared up the droppings of the ass and the ox. But it had been
a tricky moment when Tancred pushed in to kneel on his right, within arm’s length of Count Baldwin kneeling on his left. Luckily the two had smiled at one another; this was not a place for enmity.
The bell tinkled for the Consecration. God was present again in body as He had been for the first time more than a thousand years ago. Peals thundered from the tower in token of rejoicing. That brought a comforting memory. Only a few months ago Tancred had hung those loud bells. The infidels who had ruled here so long did not tolerate bells in Christian churches.
Here was the Pax coming round. They had brought it to him gratifyingly early, probably the first among the laity. But politics could not be ignored even on this sacred occasion. He motioned to the subdeacon to present the little olive-wood carving first to Baldwin and then to Tancred. As he himself kissed it in third place he knew with joy that those two had once again exchanged the Kiss of Peace. In a few minutes they would receive Communion side by side. In Cilicia Baldwin had compassed the deaths of many Apulians, and the injury was still unavenged; but after such a reconciliation in such a place the blood-feud could never be revived.
As he received Communion the love of God entirely filled his mind. But he was not a mystic, and he could not keep his soul at full stretch for very long. As often happens, the Devil began to tempt him while he was making his thanksgiving. Was he worthy to receive the Body of God? Was he truly in a state of grace? Was he genuinely a pilgrim?
Such thoughts must be faced, and dismissed. No Christian was worthy of anything, but in receiving Communion he was obeying the Will of God. If there was such a thing as a Church, he was in a state of grace; he had been absolved by a priest who had received the power of absolution in unbroken descent from the Apostles. Was he also a pilgrim, entitled to the Great Pardon promised by Pope Urban? Two answers were possible.
Like many other Normans Bohemond saw the Laws of God and the less important regulations of civil society as a set of rules, to be obeyed or dodged or very occasionally defied. He had fulfilled to the letter all the obligations of the pilgrimage. He had left home to fight his way clean across the civilized world; his life had been continually in danger; he had killed countless infidels; soon he would worship in a liberated Holy Sepulchre; with the possible exception of Duke Godfrey he had done more than any other knight to liberate it. By midday he would be free of his vow and entitled to the pardon.
Count Bohemond Page 30