by Jack Ludlow
‘I will go to Duke Godfrey and pray with him that his recovery is speedy.’
The assault was launched late in the afternoon and carried on until the light faded. That it was not completely successful did not dispirit those who had climbed and fought on the hastily thrown together ladders, for they had done great damage, claiming to have killed more than they lost. This indicated the defenders lacked confidence and another assault was planned for the next day in which they would open onslaughts at several points where the walls were in disrepair, all contingents participating, this insisted upon by Ademar to avoid another confrontation.
Baldwin was full of himself, boasting of his own exploits and never once pausing to praise his brother’s knights, so it was no surprise that the only person listening was Vermandois — none of the others could stand it — and even he became bored, or was it annoyed that the participation of the French, who had attacked as a second wave and enjoyed equal success, was not acknowledged?
Preparations were made overnight, ladders strung together, weapons once more sharpened and everyone stood to for a dawn attack. When the sun rose it was to light up a delegation of leading citizens come to discuss how Heraclea should be occupied; overnight the garrison had decamped and fled east.
Tacitus was quick to step forward and claim Heraclea for Alexius and for once, when Baldwin objected, he got some sympathy from the rest of the Crusade leaders, though they suspected with Godfrey making a steady if slow recovery he hankered after the town himself as a personal fief. The Byzantines had done nothing here and would have done nothing at Iconium if it had shown resistance, while Tacitus had, since Dorylaeum, been ignored when it came to tactics or movement.
Yet nothing could be done to gainsay his actions; the next major goal was Antioch and to take that would require military help from Alexius — supplies shipped by sea and a force of fighting men put there by whatever method he chose. To offend him was to jeopardise that assistance; no one had to be reminded of such a need, nor that, just like Nicaea, a stronghold like Antioch could not be bypassed and left in Turkish hands, so many a tongue was stilled and irritation suppressed.
The next dilemma to surface was what route to take? This time it was not fear of starvation or thirst that preyed on the minds of the gathering, but the constraints of two high passes on the direct route, the Cilician Gates, through which Alexander the Great had passed, and beyond Tarsus, the Belen Pass. To thread such a host through these defiles would take no less than a week and would present the Turks, should they be able to regroup, with a target too tempting to ignore and one that would require minimal force — both passes could be blocked by the enemy while forcing a passage might be costly.
Mention of Alexander had Tacitus speak for once, to remind the Crusaders that history related that he had led a small, compact army and no tail of pilgrims. If food and water were plentiful on either side of the Cilician Gates the former was not in the pass itself; indeed, what little information he possessed indicated nothing but a track surrounded by rock, added to which they might again come upon an area that had been sown with salt by the Turks, so supplies enough to keep everyone fed would have to be taken through as well, which increased the risks.
The other possible route took the host east through a long, wide and lush basin between two mountain ranges that led to Caesarea where it was possible that Alexius, informed of their route, might join them. Regardless of easy forage, moving east would also drive back the Turks. From Caesarea the route to Antioch was through the lands of the Christian Armenians, who had no love for their Turkish overlords, and treaties could be made that would protect the rear of the Crusade and give ample warning of any approaching threat.
Raymond, while agreeing to the basic notion, had one point that needed to be made.
‘It would be of benefit to send an expedition to secure the passes on the shortest road. We do not know, when Alexius comes, what route he will take — perhaps through Caesarea — but he, if he knows they are secure, might elect for the sake of speed to pass through the Cilician Gates.’
‘To know what the Turks have planned would also aid us,’ Robert of Normandy suggested. ‘Do they intend to do battle with us before we get close to Antioch or is their strategy to hold that and deny us any progress?’
‘Then we should split the host again,’ opined Baldwin, his manner, as usual, making it sound like a demand not an option.
‘No!’ Ademar was emphatic; indeed he had shown more inclination to be so since the man he had just denied had so nearly caused outright dissension. ‘As a host complete the Turks fear us.’
‘You know that, Bishop Ademar?’
‘If I lack your military knowledge I do not lack for common sense. If they do not fear us why have they kept their distance?’
‘We must not separate again,’ insisted Bohemund. ‘If we won at Dorylaeum, it was a battle that could have been lost. Yet I take my Lord of Toulouse’s point-’
Baldwin, interrupting, was loud in his scoffing condemnation, and the arch look of wonder that went with it was to imply he had just heard from a dolt. ‘How in the name of the Lord Almighty are we to achieve it if we do not separate?’
‘It is a courtesy we extend to each other to let every member of the council speak without interruption.’
If Ademar’s check hit home, Baldwin did a good job of disguising it; his shrug was elaborate as Bohemund continued. ‘A small force, pushed through the passes to ensure they are clear, which once south of them should ensure they stay that way, would be a sound move.’
The alteration in Baldwin’s demeanour was so swift it was risible: his face lost its normal confrontational expression to be replaced by one that displayed wonder; he was also smiling, which was rare, almost as much as the words that followed.
‘I agree and I put myself forward to lead it.’
Amongst men who were acquisitive by nature it did not take long to understand why Baldwin was so eager. Tacitus and his Byzantines would march with the main host, so any knight in an independent role might have a chance to grab a great deal of booty that in other circumstances would be sequestered for the empire, and no doubt it occurred to some of the magnates to put their name forward; only the loss of dignity by being so openly avaricious stopped them.
‘It would be best to send men from more than one contingent,’ Robert of Normandy said finally, in a gambit that precluded any loss of face.
‘I agree,’ Ademar responded, swiftly, ‘but I would not stand in the way of my Lord of Boulogne.’ He might as well have said it would be good riddance, and to make sure all present understood, he added, in what was probably an error of judgement brought on by frustration, ‘And who knows, when he rejoins it might be to find his brother the Duke whole again.’
‘Then,’ Robert added, ‘since none of we actual leaders can separate, let Tancred be given joint command.’
‘Not joint,’ Bohemund cut in, causing Baldwin to suck lemons again. ‘Let them lead their own contingents, Tancred his own Apulian knights, and Baldwin whosoever he chooses, but in numbers agreed.’
That was tossed back and forth over some time, Baldwin’s figure of a thousand beaten down to two hundred, with the same number allocated to Tancred. All would be mounted — the aim was to move fast and avoid battle against foes, superior or not. Times were discussed and, notwithstanding they might be wildly out, it was agreed a date they would meet up on the road to Antioch, Baldwin and Tancred tasked to reconnoitre the famous old city and report the state of the defences.
‘You guessed why Baldwin was so eager?’ Bohemund asked, when he and his nephew were alone.
‘Only a fool would not; but I am bound to ask, if Duke Robert had not put forward my name, would you?’
‘Yes, but it had more weight coming from him. How would it have looked if I had made the suggestion?’
‘Like you were favouring your own.’ The younger man took a deep breath before he posed his next question. ‘Am I free to act for myself?’
&nbs
p; ‘You would be a dolt not to. Baldwin is scarcely charging off to aid the Crusade but to line his own purse.’
‘And perhaps take possession of any towns he can capture?’
‘That too.’ That got a hand on the shoulder. ‘I had always intended one day to let you seek for yourself. If it has come sooner than anticipated the time has arrived. Ride out in the morning with your lances …’
‘And some of your own.’
‘They esteem you as much as do I, Tancred, and would chafe to stay with the main body. But I was about to say that you are free to do as you wish and to take for yourself anything that presents itself. If it disturbs you to grab land and plunder while on Crusade, do not let it trouble your mind, for there is not a noble knight on the council who does not harbour the same thought.’
‘You?’
‘Unlike them I have not pledged my lands to fund this adventure, but Godfrey de Bouillon sold most of his to the Church, and Robert of Normandy pledged his duchy to his brother for a huge sum of money. Why?’
‘Robert I do not know, but Godfrey is pious.’
‘De Bouillon is more so than I, that I will grant you, and I have enough of an opinion of him, for I think him an honest man, to believe he will ask for what he wants rather than take it. He is a true Crusader.’
‘Not a trait shared by all the family.’
‘Have I said enough?’ Bohemund asked, to get a nod in response. ‘I have a gift for you.’
That got a raised eyebrow from his nephew, which was not assuaged when Bohemund called out and a dark-skinned fellow entered and bowed.
‘This is Anastas and I found him in Heraclea. He is an Armenian Christian as well as a trader and he knows the route to Antioch well. I questioned him closely and he has knowledge of the fastest and safest shortcuts. It may be that with his help you can get ahead of Baldwin and secure anything worthwhile before he arrives.’
They rode out the next day, after a Mass to bless their endeavour, on the best horses that the host could provide, animals that had been fattened on the ample pasture of the lands around Heraclea, able to cover the standard cavalry distance, including walking, resting and watering their mounts, of ten leagues a day. For Tancred it was sheer joy; much as he loved his uncle, to be in a position of independent command, to never have to ask if any act he desired to undertake was approved or not, was something he had craved for ever since he had been Bohemund’s squire. For his cousin of Salerno it promised as much; Tancred trusted him more than did Bohemund, and for the knights they led, the prospect of plunder was enough.
It was dawn on the next day when it emerged that another two hundred Lotharingian knights had departed the host, no doubt to join Baldwin, which prompted Robert to suggest to his fellow Norman that Bohemund might consider reinforcing Tancred, given that those men, in such a number, would not have departed had it not been prearranged.
‘It would not be wise, Bohemund, to place any faith in Baldwin’s intentions.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Anastas proved his worth before they ever got to the Cilician Gates; he knew a route from Heraclea that cut out a great arc in what had been the old Roman road, with ample supplies of both water and pasture, not that Tancred availed himself of too much of either; he had to assume that Baldwin would not tarry so nor could he, but he was reassured when passing through the high and cool trail that traversed the Gates that he was ahead of his rival, for no one passing in the other direction had seen a mounted host.
Two days of hard riding brought the Normans into Armenia and the ancient city of Tarsus and, from a nearby hill, the sight was arresting for here was a city as solid in its historic glory as anything these Apulian Normans had seen in Italy, a major trading centre of antiquity with the classical architecture that such places could boast; temples erected to the Greek Pantheon of Gods, arches and columns raised during Roman times as well as the ubiquitous amiphitheatre and baths.
Less encouraging were the stout walls and several towering minarets that spoke of a strong Turkish presence, which posed a problem for such a small force as to how to capture it. Beside a small river where their horses were now grazing, they donned their chain mail to indicate they were planning an instant assault.
As if determined to drive home the message that he was not anxious, the Turkish commander led his mounted archers out to engage in immediate battle, which if it surprised the Normans did not send them running, it not being a large force, nor one with an excess of discipline. Tancred’s men formed their line with the speed for which they were noted and the Turks found themselves counter-charged by a formidable wall of close-linked lances, which confounded them and broke up what little formation they had.
Arrows inflicted more wounds on animals than mailed men, so near impervious they went through the Turks and scattered them so comprehensively that their leader called an immediate retreat and fled back through the main gate, which they managed to shut behind them before their enemy could get through.
‘Which does not serve us as well as it might, cousin,’ Robert of Salerno gasped as he and Tancred trotted out of range of the well-positioned archers; the point was obvious — they were still on the outside.
‘Let us set up camp and put our minds to some idea of how we might overcome that.’
Robert laughed. ‘How long does it take to build a Trojan horse?’
‘The garrison is small, a few hundred perhaps, and the population of the city is Armenian and Christian, so whoever commands cannot count on help from the populace. We will light double the fires we need after dark. Let them think we will be stronger on the morrow than they have seen today. If they think the whole host is coming to Tarsus, it may make them think of escape more than resistance. Meanwhile, let us throw a cordon around the walls while I seek, with our guide Anastas, to sow fear into their hearts.’
Throughout the rest of the day, Tancred rode round the walls in the company of his guide, who told the Turks in their own tongue of what was coming their way, a mighty host so large they would not see the tail from their highest minaret by the time thousands of knights were encamped around their walls, led by men who would not stand to be held up by so puny a city. There would be no mercy — it would be a painful death or Christianity for them all — and he gave good reason why, recounting in gruesome detail how their fellows had treated the pilgrims of the People’s Crusade.
‘They had sense at Heraclea,’ Ansatas called, for the tenth time. ‘They knew what fate held in store and took to their heels in darkness, which My Lord Tancred might, if he feels merciful, allow.’
Tancred’s task was to glower and wave his sword, which he did well and frequently.
‘Look upon him, look at the length of those legs, the build of the upper body and the reach of his sword arm. Think on this as you try to sleep: can you fight a man of such size? And yet he is but a dwarf to those who follow so close on our heels and whose banners you will soon see on the horizon.’
If the Turks tossed and turned there was little sleep for the Normans that night; over the hours of darkness the number of lit fires had to be increased, but not all at once — it had to appear as if reinforcements were arriving piecemeal and setting up camp, foreign devils who did not fear to march in the night. Others, including Tancred and Robert of Salerno, were out in the groves that surrounded the city, their task to keep silent watch and see how many people fled Tarsus, for if the fighting men did not, the non-combatant Turks would.
Happily, soldiers were leaving too, many on horseback, evidenced by their jingling accoutrements and in such a way, singly or in pairs, that hinted at individual endeavour, not an organised evacuation; the garrison would be smaller at dawn than it had been previously, yet Tancred sensed the same bold fellow might be in charge.
The messenger came with the rising sun, an invitation to the leader of the invaders to parley with the governor of Tarsus under a flag of truce. Gathering up that which he hoped he would need, Tancred, in the company of Anastas and his own
body of personal followers, made for the main gate, to be greeted from one of the main towers by a fellow who went by the name of Gokham Bey, he issuing a guarantee that if the Lord Knight would enter in peace and leave his lances outside, all things were possible.
‘They might string you up and hang you over the walls,’ Robert said.
‘Go back, cousin,’ Tancred replied, as the gates creaked open, ‘and do as you should. Take command till I return.’
With that Tancred rode through into the dark, shaded interior of Tarsus, carrying his own banner, and on through narrow, crowded streets full of the curious and fearful Armenians, eventually to enter the Governor’s Palace. This stood inside a citadel of a different age and looked to the Apulian very like those of Roman vintage he had seen at home, an impression enhanced on entry to find fountain-filled courtyards, with cooling ponds and many shading trees and mosaic-tiled floors with designs of animals and birds.
The interior was Turkish in its decoration and there waiting for him was Gokham Bey, sitting on a pile of cushions nearly the height of a chair. The formalities of titles had to be exchanged, before Anastas took to the interpreting task he had been brought along to perform: what were the terms by which Gokham would surrender Tarsus? The demands were not unusual; for a Western mind it was the time taken which stood out.
‘Tell him yes, all his men may depart with their weapons, but I must insist they take a route due east.’
The Bey understood that; the Crusade did not want them heading south towards Antioch. The delicate matter of his own family and possessions took longer and Tancred, by guesswork, tried to discern what was personal and what was gubernatorial — the latter he was determined to extract as booty and his bargaining position was wives. Gokham had dozens and many children; Tancred was only allowing him his one main spouse, and pressing home that no Christian could so condone polygamy as to agree to him taking a harem.
The Governor understood perfectly what this infidel was about but like his race he saw the bargaining as an essential to the ultimate trade. Slowly he surrendered goods of value to Tancred in return for things of value to him, giving up the Tarsus treasury, full of tax monies levied from the town and surrounding countryside, as well as the artefacts that he had inherited with his office.