The Lady for Ransom

by Alfred Duggan

  I told my lord, quite truthfully, that the Roman officers did not mind being completely out of touch with the Turks. We had invaded their land to provoke a battle, and it was for them to seek us out; they were horsemen like ourselves, and could not surprise us by charging down from a snowbound peak; if we met their whole force round the next corner of the valley, that was what we had come all this way to do.

  By the second Sunday after Pentecost we lay before Manzikert, the first town where we could be sure of finding armed Turks. Like all these little towns in the war-torn March of Armenia it is very strongly fortified. The Emperor sent an envoy, offering to permit the garrison to depart unharmed if they would render the fortress; but they closed the gates against us.

  It was interesting to watch our army preparing for the siege. Most Romans can read and write, and it is much easier to calculate if you can jot down figures than if you have to carry everything in your head. On the first day the engineers did nothing but ride round the walls, making notes on their tablets. On the second day all the followers of the baggage-train dug at once, in dozens of different places, and by the third day the lines of circumvallation were linked up, without gaps or awkward corners. That is the sort of work only Romans can accomplish.

  The mercenaries were to ride forward to blockade Chliat while the engines battered the walls of Manzikert. But there was no hurry; for a few days we remained in the main camp. When the good news came I was lucky enough to hear it at first hand.

  There was the usual council in the Emperor’s tent, and I walked there with my lord. We did not expect an interesting meeting. There was nothing to be discussed while the army lay halted; but the Emperor had been reproached for not taking the advice of his officers during the futile Syrian campaign, and he was determined to give no opening for the same complaint this year. As we approached the standard which marked Imperial headquarters we both noticed that the common troopers seemed unusually pleased with themselves; outside the tent even the gilded Guardsmen of the Schools grinned and stuck up their thumbs, a Roman sign of victory; this annoyed my lord, for these sentries were supposed to hold themselves rigid, and by taking such a liberty they showed they did not consider the Frankopole a real officer. We guessed that the whole army had heard of a Christian victory; perhaps the Duke of Antioch had routed a band of plunderers.

  The Romans often began their council without waiting for us, and my lord was apt to be late on purpose, to emphasise his dignity. But on this occasion the Emperor was just giving the formal greeting which opens the proceedings. My lord prostrated himself while Romanus was still speaking, to show he was as good as anyone in the tent; but Romans overlook bad manners in a Frank, rather contemptuously, because they think we could not be courteous if we tried. As my lord took his seat and the linguist came up to translate, the Emperor concluded: ‘The Vestiarius Leo Dabatenus will address the council.’

  The man who rose was a stranger. His long official robe was creased, and under it he wore riding-boots; but he was not a military courier; his smooth painted face and pendent stomach showed him to be a eunuch. He spoke in the high voice such creatures use, but slowly and distinctly, to allow the linguists to interpret, and I could follow all he said.

  ‘Your majesty, my lords: I serve the Logothete of the Dromos, as accredited envoy to barbarians and linguist in Arabic and Turkish. About Septuagesima I was sent to the Sultan, to discuss a proposed rectification of the frontier. The negotiations are not important; the Sultan demanded recognition of his conquest of Manzikert, and my instructions forbade me to concede anything of the kind. But I was also instructed to remain near the Sultan, in case he offered submission when he heard of the approach of this mighty army; so I discussed ransoms, and the exchange of captives, and did not give a definite refusal. About Pentecost the Sultan lay before Aleppo, whose infidel ruler serves the Caliph of Egypt. The Sultan serves the Caliph of Baghdad, and his dearest wish is to destroy the rival Caliph and unite all the followers of Mahomet.’ (The creature was a true pedant of the Dromos, and took great pains to call these filthy infidels by their correct titles.) ‘While the Sultan battered Aleppo a courier arrived from the Beg of Chliat, telling of your majesty’s advance. The Sultan summoned me to learn why there had been no declaration of war, and I explained that we were not at war with the Caliph of Baghdad. Your majesty merely wished to arrange for the administration of Chliat and Manzikert, which are part of the Roman dominions; if the brigands of those parts offered resistance that would be a breach of the treaty, and the Caliph would be the aggressor. The Sultan replied that he was the Sword of the Caliph, and that his Begs would resist. So Romania was at war with Baghdad. I prepared to leave the infidel camp, but the Turks moved before I could pack my baggage. Your majesty, their march was a frenzied flight. Everyone had heard of the great army of Romania, and thought only of putting the River Euphrates between himself and the just vengeance of the Emperor. They did not wait for ferryboats, they swam their horses and baggage across the stream; many were drowned, as I saw with my own eyes. The Sultan is a brave warrior, but his followers will not face the lancers of Romania. I rode here at once, to tell of the utter demoralisation of the Turks. Oh, and one other thing. On the way I heard that Afsin the Guardsman had broken up his camp on Taurus, and is marching east at full speed. Already the plundering infidels have begun their retreat to the rim of the world!’

  When the eunuch had finished the whole council rose and acclaimed the Emperor. Wine was brought, and there was no more discussion. The mere rumour of our approach had already won the war.

  Next day the Frankish and Turkish mercenaries rode past beleaguered Manzikert, a long day’s march to Chliat, the next fortress. This is a very strong place, and our division, heavy mailed Franks and bowlegged Turkish horse-archers, had no means of harming its thick stone walls; but we camped two bowshots from the main gate, compelled the infidels to man the battlements without rest, and pillaged the neighbouring farms. Our food was brought up by pack-mule, since Manzikert blocked the only road by which wheels could pass; but the Romans are good at arranging convoys and we suffered no privations. We were the furthest advance guard of the Christian army, deep in the land of the infidel; but our stay before Chliat was an interval of rest after the long marches which had carried us to the edge of the Christian world.

  Our Turkish allies lived apart, for they devour raw sheep in a way which revolted our sergeants. But Joseph Tarchaniotes dined with my lord, since he had lived many years among civilised men and even used a Roman eating-prong. Our knights dined in the same tent, and I was always present to interpret for the Turkopole.

  Joseph was the only man in our army who thought we had advanced too far. He was always pointing out that we were not in contact with the enemy; if the Sultan was the wily leader he was said to be our first news of him might be of a counter-raid. Remember, he would say, the interior of Romania is defenceless; the whole regular army, and the mesnies of all the nobles, are gathered before Manzikert. But that did not worry Messer Roussel; Romania was not our land, and we did not care if it was ravaged.

  For six weeks we remained in this pleasant situation. Then one day our horse-archers, who rode far afield in search of unravaged barns, reported strong bands of hostile Turks. They had exchanged arrows at long range, in their usual manner of fighting, and then fled at full gallop to avoid being surrounded. Their foes followed cautiously, and halted when they caught sight of our camp. While we discussed this a messenger rode in from the main army, a eunuch of the Dromos, very frightened and saddle-sore; he said he had been chased by a hostile patrol, though we were not sure he was telling the truth, for these eunuchs sometimes panic at sight of friendly mercenaries. He bore good news; Manzikert had capitulated, and tomorrow the Emperor would march on Chliat; though with his great siege-train he would be at least two days on the road we had traversed in one.

  At dusk a band of infidels raided the stream from which we drew water; they cut down some women who were filling their pot
s, but did not meddle with the horse-guard who watered our animals farther downstream. Then they fled into the darkness, and pursuit was impossible; but our sergeants, especially those whose concubines had been slaughtered, felt angry and a little frightened. It had been a very neat raid, obviously planned by cool veterans. The Turks were not so demoralised as that silly Dabatenus believed.

  Our camp was unfortified, and some knights suggested it would be a good idea to dig a trench. My lord pointed out that if we dismounted to hold a palisade we threw away the advantage of the irresistible Frankish charge; but he reassured the nervous by reminding us that the Emperor and his great army were only two marches away. We had made this long journey to provoke a battle, and we should be glad that at last the Turks had come to meet us.

  The Turkopole was worried. He complained that these Seljuks, who spoke a language his Cumans could understand, had been calling out that the great Atabeg Alp Arsian, Sultan to the Caliph, welcomed all Turks and would lead them to rich plunder. Cumans are notoriously fickle, and they might accept the offer; though the real bother, as we saw it, was that neither we nor the regular Roman soldiers could distinguish between friendly Cumans and hostile Seljuks; for both were bundled up in sheepskin and dirty woollens, and rode in the distinctive Turkish manner with short stirrups and a long rein. We stood to our horses for most of the night, though the Turks who approached the camp always turned out to be Cumans.

  No convoy arrived next day, and Messer Roussel put us on half rations. The Turks were scattered over the countryside, cleverly concealed in folds of the ground. They had the legs of us, and galloped away if we rode at them; but our patrols were continually shot at by an elusive foe who would not stand and fight. Our camp was a little island of safe ground amid a wide ocean of infidels.

  We passed an uneasy night, sleeping in mail; which is like trying to sleep on a harrow. Under cover of darkness the enemy crept up and shouted to our Cumans, who answered in the same language. It sounded like an exchange of insults, but of course we could not understand; our allies might plot treachery at the top of their voices, so long as they called in a tone of anger. We could not send out our horses to graze, and we had very little forage; when that was finished we must feed them on our own barley-bread, or find ourselves afoot in the heart of the enemy’s country.

  Next day was the Assumption of Our Lady, which encouraged us; on that day the defenders of Christendom should be able to count on aid from Heaven. All morning we stood to our horses, watching the valley fill with scattered bands of Turks; they threw a convoy of provisions into blockaded Chliat, so our work of the last six weeks was wasted. Our Cumans held the open ground for half a mile round the camp, and the Turks never drew into one body to challenge us to battle; but nothing is more tiring than standing to arms without fighting. Messer Roussel put a brave front on it, but I could see he was worried; the Turkopole was more cheerful, for he told us that if his men had intended to change sides they would have done so last night; anyway, the main army should join us that evening.

  But at sunset there was no sign of the Emperor; dustclouds hung over the level ground between the mountains, but they were as likely to mean Turkish ponies as Roman chargers; we looked for the twinkle of polished mail, since the infidels wear woollens even in battle; the valley ran straight for several miles, but we saw no friendly gleam. We had now fortified our camp with a trench; it was only big enough to stop a horse, since Turks never attack on foot, but it should give us a peaceful night; yet the sergeants grumbled that such toil was beneath the dignity of mailed horsemen.

  That night my lord sat in his tent, talking to Joseph with me as linguist. About midnight he had a look at the weather, which was very dark. During the day a stray arrow had killed a child, and his mother was mourning him in a high-pitched wail that got on our nerves, though my lord was too kind to silence her. We were getting jumpy.

  My lord flung himself crossly on his stool. ‘This can’t go on,’ he grumbled. ‘In a few days we shall all be too frightened to face the Sultan’s mother-in-law on a donkey. Roger, ask the Turkopole if these blasted infidels fight well in the dark.’

  Joseph answered without hesitation: ‘There is nothing they dislike more. They fear ambush, and if they can’t see to shoot they will certainly not charge.’

  ‘I don’t expect an attack,’ said my lord. ‘Men who make all that noise are not preparing to charge. The point is that on a dark night a horseman could gallop past them without being shot, and if they barred his way any Frank could ride them down. I must have news of the Emperor. He changes his plans on impulse, or so says young Andronicus. He may be marching on Antioch for all we know. Roger, I want you to ride back. We know Manzikert now has a Roman garrison, and if you start at once you should reach the gates at dawn. Will you try it? Say frankly if you think it too dangerous, and I shall get my clerk to write a despatch. A Cuman might get through unnoticed in daylight. But I would rather send the only man in the band who can understand my instructions and repeat them to a responsible Roman officer. Well?’

  It was a very dangerous mission, the sort of thing no veteran undertakes; our sergeants had a proverb that they were paid to do their duty, but volunteers were always dead by payday. But I was young, and I loved Messer Roussel. I said I would go.

  ‘Good lad,’ said my lord. ‘You shall ride my best horse. That’s Whitefoot, isn’t it? Charge straight into anyone who tries to stop you. Their arrows will miss in the dark. When you reach the Emperor, or the commandant of Manzikert, tell him this: Chliat has been revictualled and it is useless to continue the blockade. Our horses cannot graze and the men are getting hungry. Tomorrow is Tuesday, if no orders reach me I shall retire on Friday. I shall march north of west, not to bring these Turks against Manzikert, which must be weak after its battering. I shall send messengers to the cities of the north-eastern Themes. Mesopotamia, Colonea and Sebaste. Let the Emperor send my orders to any fortress in those parts and I shall obey as soon as I receive them. If there are no orders tell the commandant of Manzikert to send me news of the Emperor. He must be marching south-east, perhaps on Baghdad itself. These dirty little skirmishers couldn’t stop him if he was trying to join us. But that is not part of the message. Now have a good drink; and I shall arm you myself.’

  My lord was brave, and he inspired courage in others. He was trying to lend me some of his own resolution.

  In an hour I set out. For the first half-mile a score of sergeants rode with me, driving the Turks before them. When they wheeled back to camp I continued alone; they made noise enough to drown my hoof-beats, and the enemy never realised that a single messenger travelled the winding mule-track which had been trampled by our convoys.

  My greatest fear was that my horse would come down, leaving me to be discovered on foot when day broke. But Whitefoot was a very good horse, and he knew, as horses always do, that his rider was frightened; he wished to escape the threatened danger, and scrambled over the rocks as though a leopard were after him. Yet a ride in the dark never goes as you expect; presently I lost the track and blundered across a boulder-strewn hillside. I got off to lead my horse downhill. That is what you should do when lost in the mountains, but it does not always work. I found a noisy torrent, but my way was then barred by a precipice and waterfall. Dawn came with a thick white mist, and I knew I must hide until dark; but there was a way down the precipice, and a large wet cave behind the waterfall. I gave my horse a long drink, led him into the cave, and hobbled him closely, back and front, with my baldric and the saddle-girth. Presently the sun dispersed the mist, and I found myself looking out over a wide valley, with an enormous encampment a thousand feet below.

  It was a Turkish camp. No one could mistake the haphazard squalor of the nomads for a neat Roman bivouac. Men saddled their horses and rode out in scattered parties, in the barbarian manner; but none climbed my hill, which was too steep for their tactics. I kept very quiet, muttering prayers to overcome my hunger and fear. The Emperor could not be far away. T
hree days ago he had been within twenty miles, seeking the King of the Turks. I could see a rambling collection of many tents joined by covered passages, which must be the moving palace of a great chief of the nomads; the Romans had scouted very badly, but the great battle would not be long delayed.

  I peered down, lying on my stomach in the mouth of the cave. I sweated, and every little scale of my armour made a separate bruise on my ribs. But no one can arm himself alone, so I dared not disarm. I could see about three miles down the valley, but then a bend cut off my view. About midday I realised that something was happening round the corner. Many infidels galloped that way, and I thought I could hear war-cries. After about two hours most of them rode back again, not with the haste of beaten men, but at their ease. They carried some kind of trophy. There had been a skirmish at the outposts.

  As it grew dark I fixed in my mind the easiest way down. Then I unhobbled my horse, and led him about until the worst of his stiffness had worn off. Whitefoot was a gallant charger, and though he had not eaten all day he had another gallop left in him. The mist rose with the night, and presently I mounted and rode quietly down towards the distant bend where the skirmish had been fought that morning.

  The whole grassy valley was full of Turkish ponies turned out to graze. Whitefoot was a stallion, and I was pestered by mares which trotted up to make friends; but no trained warhorse neighs in the dark, and the infidel pickets were all in front, facing the enemy they knew; barbarians scout slackly when they know where the foe is encamped. But there would be Turkish sentries near the bend in the valley. I was about to spur Whitefoot, to gallop past before they could shoot, when we encountered some obstacle, and he grew very excited. There were no mares about; this must be something that worried all horses. I dismounted and peered closely. When I discovered what lay before me I was as upset as my horse. It was a heap of dead men, all headless, wearing the brief corselets of Roman troopers. There must have been a hundred of them, lying together behind a barricade of dead horses, every carcass bristling with arrows. A Roman detachment had been surrounded and shot down to the last man. So Romans did not always gallop straight through a Turkish army and out the other side!