by H A CULLEY
Balian looked around. The parapet was clear so he called to a few of his knights, who were leaning against the crenulations getting their breath back, shaking in reaction to the shock of their first battle or being sick, and they manhandled two large clay pots full of oil onto the platform of the tower. One was poured down onto the Saracens standing below on the ladders and the other was broken so that the oil ran all over the platform and down the sides. The knights quit the platform and the enemy surged up from below just as Balian threw a lit torch. The top of the tower erupted in flames, which soon spread to the oil dripping down the inside. Within a minute the tower was completely ablaze.
One of the other towers that had made it to the walls had also been torched and the last had been pulled over using grappling hooks. After that Saladin changed his tactics and moved his camp to the Mount of Olives, from where he began to bombard a section of wall that had been a gate until it had been bricked up. The eventual outcome had never been in doubt. On the sixth day the section of wall collapsed and the Saracens stormed up the mound of rubble to attack the knights and men-at-arms holding the top. Balian only had about four thousand armed men with which to defend Jerusalem whereas there were some twenty thousand attackers. However, the defenders had two main advantages: they held the high ground and they were static. The attackers had to find their way up a pile of loose rubble and more than one broke a leg doing so. Their attacks lacked momentum and all the while the archers on the remaining stubs of the walls peppered the Saracens with arrows and quarrels.
After four such assaults the defenders had lost men but were still able to hold the whole of the gap whilst the Moslems had suffered significant casualties; so much so that they were loath to launch another attack.
The next morning Balian rode out to meet Saladin to start negotiations for a peaceful surrender of Jerusalem. Three days later, on the second of October 1187, Balian of Ibelin handed the city over to Saladin. A month later all those who wished to leave had paid a ransom to Saladin and departed, Balian and his family being amongst the last to leave.
Jerusalem had been in Crusader hands for just eighty eight years.
Chapter One – Messina – October 1190
Sir Miles of Byrness sat in a tavern in Messina, the capital of Sicily, with Lord Richard de Cuille, Baron of the Cheviot, and three of Richard’s household knights who had come with him on crusade. Miles was the lord of one of Richard’s manors, having been the baron’s squire when he was a youth. He was in his thirties and, although he was a little shorter than average, he had a powerful body that could wield sword or battle-axe with considerable force. His angular face usually looked somewhat solemn but it lit up when he smiled. He wore his black hair quite short and his receding hairline had left behind a widow’s peak that gave him a slightly saturnine appearance.
Lord Richard was now in his mid-fifties. He had been a rather morose individual ever since 1174, when he had inadvertently killed his brother-in-law and former squire, Jocelyn de Muschamp, during the battle of Alnwick. He had suffered from fits of depression at times ever since and these had been made worse when his wife deserted him to retire to a convent as soon as she had heard of her brother’s death at the hands of her husband. Richard had joined the crusade partly in the hope of gaining absolution for slaying Jocelyn and partly to give some new focus to his life.
The five of them were drinking the rather indifferent wine that was the best that the tavern had to offer and moaning about the problems the crusaders were having with the local inhabitants when they were disturbed by the sound of fighting outside.
None of them were clad in armour but they all wore swords and daggers. As they rushed towards the door they drew their weapons. Miles was the first to emerge, but he had to flatten himself against the wall to avoid been knocked down and trampled to death. A mob of panic stricken Messinesi rushed him past closely pursued by King Richard and about a hundred English knights and men-at-arms. The Greek population had been at odds with the French and English armies as soon as the crusaders had landed en route to the Holy Land. There were a number of reasons for this, but the main cause was the increasing shortage of food following the influx of so many more mouths to feed. The crusaders has seen this as profiteering, whereas in reality the steep price rises had been a normal market reaction to the scarcity of supply. Relations had deteriorated even further when gambling debts were unpaid: the crusaders citing the dispensation granted by the Pope which released crusaders from all debts.
On the fourth of October the hostility of the locals boiled over into violence and they started rioting, burning the house occupied by Hugh de Lusignan, one of King Richard’s Aquitanian vassals and the brother of Guy, King of Jerusalem, to the ground. This was the last straw for the volatile Richard and he decided to take control of Messina by force. He had been unprepared for the violence and neither he nor his men were in armour. Nevertheless, as more and more knights and soldiers rushed to join Richard, his numbers swelled until he was in a position to storm the town.
Richard de Cuille and his knights found themselves in the front rank of the crusaders, fighting beside the king and his mesnie. For geographical reasons de Cuille and his men had travelled down to the mustering point in France with the Scottish contingent led by the High Steward, Alan FitzWalter. This was therefore the first occasion that they had encountered the famed warrior King of England. Richard de Cuille and Miles fought at the king’s side, forcing the rioters back until they reached the top of the town.
Because neither side were wearing armour casualties were high. On one occasion a townsman armed with a billhook took a swipe at King Richard whilst he was engaged with two more men armed with swords. Richard de Cuille raised his own sword and deflected the billhook whilst twisting his body so that he could thrust his dagger into the side of man wielding it. Blood spurted out of the billman and, as he fell to the ground, Richard thrust his sword into his neck to prevent him from causing any further problems. Then de Cuille cut down one of the king’s other assailants whilst Miles dealt a fatal blow to the second one. The king nodded his thanks to both men.
Further up the hillside on which the town was built the Messinesi launched a counter-attack. Traditionally the tactics in a shield wall was for each man to deal with the opponent to his right. This was the side of the attacker which was unprotected by his shield. However, in the battle for Messina there were no shields and so everyone tended to fight the man facing them. De Cuille had just killed the man to his front and he took the opportunity to catch his breath for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a boy on the ground with a dagger just about to stab it into the king’s calf. The lad can’t have been more than eight or nine but Richard de Cuille had no compunction in thrusting his swords down and into the boy’s spine. The king disposed of his opponent with a blow of his sword that half severed the man’s neck then nodded once more at Richard, smiling his gratitude.
A few minutes later the Messinesi gave up the unequal struggle and fled for their lives. The English found themselves in possession of the town and King Richard ordered his banners to be flown from the ramparts to signify its capture. Then he turned to his namesake.
‘Who do I have to thank for saving me from serious harm, not once but twice?’ He studied the de Cuille arms emblazoned on Richard’s overtunic. ‘Your badge is similar to that of Sir Waldo Cuille but I don’t think I recognise it.’
At mention of the name, Miles of Byrness stiffened. Waldo Cuille was the man who had murdered his father. Lord Richard raised a warning hand behind his back to indicate that Miles should hold his peace for now.
‘Sir Waldo is a distant cousin, sire. I’m Richard de Cuille, Baron of the Cheviot in Northumberland.’
‘I’m indebted to you Lord Richard. But I don’t understand why, if you are one of my barons, we haven’t met before.’
Richard was about to explain that he had travelled with the Scots when the king held up his hand.
‘We can talk again anon.
For now I must go and receive the formal surrender of Messina from King Tancred’s governor.’ With that the king strode away followed by his nobles and his mesnie.
Richard de Cuille watched the king for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he turned back to his men.
‘Well, let’s go and drink more of that excruciatingly bad wine. Our little squabble with the locals has given me a thirst.’
~#~
Miles stayed in the shadows watching the tavern where Waldo Cuille was drinking with his friends. The blood feud between his family and Waldo’s branch of the de Cuilles had started in 1157 when the newly crowned Henry Plantagenet had deprived Guy FitzRichard, a cousin of Richard de Cuille, the baron he now served, of his four manors in the High Peak of Derbyshire. Henry’s reason for doing so was Guy’s support of the other side in the civil war between King Stephen and Henry’s mother, the Empress Maud. An unfortunate casualty of this action had been Miles’s father, Robert of Locksley, who had held the manor of Hathersage from Guy.
Robert had taken the loss of his manor extremely badly and, instead of seeking a place as a household knight or seeking a fief abroad, as others had done, he had vowed vengeance on those he blamed for his misfortune. King Henry was out of his reach but the knight who had been granted the Derbyshire manors that had belonged to Guy was the former captain of Henry’s bodyguard, Sir Waldo de Cuille, who had come from Maine – the family’s original home.
The fact that Waldo was in no way to blame for the confiscation of his manor made no difference to Robert and he set out to kill Waldo during a hunt on Kinder Scout above Edale. Having succeeded, he turned outlaw and for many years operated out of Sherwood Forest. During that time he earned a reputation for supporting the poor of the area and consequently the local populace protected him and his hideout. Eventually the pressure on the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire to deal with the outlaws became too much and Robert and his men escaped north before it was too late. Eventually they had settled at the northern end of Redesdale in the Cheviots, where Robert had been granted the manor of Byrness by the de Cuilles.
The murdered man’s son, also called Waldo, had made it his mission to find and kill the person who had assassinated his father. Eventually he had tracked him down and shot him with a crossbow on the slopes of Redesdale. John Little, Robert’s former squire and lifelong friend, had vowed to kill Waldo in revenge, but he had been betrayed. He ended his life hanging from a gibbet outside Nottingham Castle. Miles had found the man who had informed on John Little but he was such a pathetic creature that he had let him live; it was Waldo he wanted to settle the score with.
Now fate had thrown them together in the same town and Miles had decided that the opportunity was too good to miss. He had recognised Waldo from the surcoat he wore, a white chevron on a black background. This was similar to Richard’s device, which was differenced by the addition of three gold aulunts’ heads. For the past three nights Miles had followed Waldo to the same tavern with his friends in the hope that he would leave alone and drunk at the end of the evening. Unfortunately he had gone back to his billet with at least two companions so far. Perhaps tonight Miles would get lucky.
It was now the beginning of November and the two kings, Richard and Philip Augustus of France, had decided not to risk the winter storms in the Mediterranean but to stay in Sicily until spring. Tancred of Sicily had been less than delighted by this, but there was little he could do.
Miles therefore had plenty of time to carry out his plan to exact vengeance on Waldo but he wanted it over and done with. Richard de Cuille had noticed his vassal’s preoccupation but so far didn’t know what had caused it. However, it wouldn’t take him long to realise. Once Waldo was dead Richard would put two and two together soon enough, but by then it would be too late to stop Miles. He didn’t care what happened to him afterwards.
Just then the door of the tavern opened and, in the candlelight that spilled out into the street, Miles recognised three of the knights who had accompanied Waldo inside earlier on. Unless more friends had joined him, Waldo was now left with just one drinking partner. Miles continued to wait patiently, drawing his black cloak closer around him as the night wore on and the breeze off the sea got chillier.
Just after midnight Waldo staggered out of the tavern with his arm around a man that Miles didn’t recognise. The two stood talking for a moment, but Miles couldn’t hear what they were saying from where he was standing in the shadows on the other side of the street. Then the two men made off in opposite directions. Waldo weaved slightly before making off in a determined manner along the street of hard baked earth, doing his best to avoid the piles of faeces and other filth as he made his way towards the monastery of San Salvatore, which King Richard had commandeered as a secure base for his supplies and where Waldo was billeted. As the inebriated knight wound his somewhat erratic way home Miles followed him, keeping in the shadows. Suddenly Waldo stopped and, leaning against a wall, he retched up the sour wine he had been drinking. As Waldo straightened up Miles saw his chance and ran forward. Unfortunately, although he had been trained to fight and fight well, Miles was no assassin. Instead of using his dagger to cut his quarry’s throat he struck downwards at Waldo’s back, seeking to plunge it into the man’s spine. The point of the dagger sliced through the surcoat and the overtunic beneath it, but then struck the chain mail vest that Waldo was wearing over his linen under-tunic.
The force of the blow drove Waldo forward so that he lost his already precarious balance and he bounced off the wall and toppled sideways, ending up sprawling forwards onto all fours. The encounter between dagger and metal vest had also jarred Miles’ wrist badly and the dagger dropped out of his nerveless fingers. By the time that Waldo had got to his feet Miles had made himself scarce, leaving behind the dagger. It had been one that Miles had bought specifically for the task from an armourer in Messina so it couldn’t be traced back to him. Nevertheless he spent the next few days looking over his shoulder, expecting Waldo to be seeking him out. In truth though, having revenged the murder of his own father by killing Robert of Locksley, Waldo wasn’t even aware of Miles’s existence; that is until the botched attempt on his life started him thinking.
~#~
King Richard of England was a tall man with long legs and arms; well-built and handsome, he had the same red-gold hair as his father, Henry the Second. Like his father he was a warrior and a consummate strategist but, unlike his father, who had also been a scholar, Richard was more of a musician and troubadour, even composing songs of some wit and merit.
He had inherited other traits as well, such as determination and personal bravery. He had considerable charisma and often managed to win others over by his force of personality. This had worked with Phillip Augustus, King of France, when they were boys but Phillip knew him too well now to be put under his spell. Richard thumped the table.
‘This isn’t getting us anywhere!’ he glared at Philip Augustus. ‘The Messinesi rioted against the French crusaders’ presence here just as much as they did against the English.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t storm and capture the town, massacring its inhabitants.’ Philip was in danger of losing control of his temper, something he prided himself on never doing.
‘No, you stood by and let the English sort it out with significant loss of life, whilst you and your countrymen watched.’ Richard said bitterly. ‘Twenty five knights were killed and goodness knows how many serjeants and men-at-arms.’
‘I will not stay here to be lectured by a man who has betrayed my sister.’ Philip was now so angry he let slip his real reason for his animosity to his former ally and friend. He was referring to Princess Alys, his half-sister who had been betrothed to Richard by Philip’s father to cement a truce with Henry Plantagenet over thirty years ago. Alys had been sent to England as King Henry’s ward aged eight after the betrothal and an area known as the Vexin, an area on the border between Normandy and France, had been handed over to Henry as her dowry.<
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The marriage between Richard and Alys had never taken place. Instead King Henry, then in his mid-forties, had taken Alys as his lover when she was just sixteen. Richard was not prepared to marry his father’s former mistress, but he hadn’t broken off the betrothal either, wanting to retain the Vexin. When he had subsequently announced his intention to marry Berengaria, the daughter of the King of Navarre, a kingdom to the south of France, Philip had been incensed. Not only had France lost the Vexin for nothing but now Richard was allying himself with a state on Philip’s borders which was antagonistic to him.
Phillip the Second was all too aware that the King of England ruled over more of France than he did himself. Richard was Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, Count of Maine, Anjou and Poitou and regent for his nephew Arthur, the infant Duke of Brittany. Although Richard theoretically owed Phillip fealty for his domains, in practice he did as he pleased. Even the allegiance of the Duke of Burgundy and the Counts of Blois, Champagne and Toulouse couldn’t be taken for granted. The only areas that Phillip ruled directly were Picardy and the Isle de France. He saw his life’s task as the restoration of his rule over all of France and the main obstacle to that ambition was Richard Plantagenet.