Another week went by and they passed the columns of the temple of Diana at Ephesus, its identity quite clearly proclaimed by its many carved inscriptions. Raoul wished they could have camped nearby so he could visit it. But, he decided, perhaps a shrine dedicated to chastity was a less than appropriate spot for him to do homage – despite his restraint with Kamala. He looked back over his shoulder with a laugh.
“What’s funny, de Metz?” Tréguier demanded. “God knows we could all do with a little jest to cheer us. It’ll be Christmas soon and we’ll still be dashing headlong in the wrong direction.”
“Nothing really, sir. I was just thinking about the temple.”
“Temple?”
“Up on the hill back there. Didn’t you notice it?”
“What, that place? It’s a church of some kind, is it?”
“It’s the temple of Artemis,” Bertrand said. “One of the wonders of the Ancient world. I must say I would like to have spent a little time there.”
“In adoration of the virgin goddess, de Courcy? Is that quite apt, do you think?” Raoul could not resist the taunt.
“What would a peasant like you know about it?”
“Enough to know the folly of judging by appearances,” Raoul snapped back, but in Greek.
“You arrogant little bastard!”
“Bertrand, please. There’s no call to speak like that to Raoul, whatever he said. It’s thanks to him that...”
“I’ve had enough of this!” Bertrand drove his spurs into the chestnut’s flanks and galloped ahead.
It took Raoul a moment to realise that Bertrand had actually understood what he had said.
Three days further on the weather brightened. The wind dropped and a warm sun shone. It seemed almost like spring instead of December. They made camp by a river that night, and as soon as they were settled, Tréguier was summoned to a meeting with the King.
“It is utterly stupid,” the Queen was saying as the Count took his seat. “I do not see why you are making us rush along in this ridiculous fashion. It is quite unnecessary. The Saracens are miles away.”
“But you do not appreciate the danger, madam,” Louis protested. “The German army has been utterly destroyed.”
“And what is to be gained from our exhaustion? A brief stop is all I am asking – just a few days to pause and rest a little. We would all benefit from that, I think.”
The commanders were consulted in turn.
“We desperately need food, sire,” said Tancred de Vouvantes. “The pace you are setting at present makes hunting and foraging impossible.”
“Aye,” agreed the Duke, who was in charge of provisioning, “there are more ways of dying than being slaughtered by Saracens: and starvation’s just as effective even if it takes a little longer.”
“I think we should press on,” another insisted, “reach Antioch by Christmas. We can rest there.”
“Even if we carry on at this rate we’ll not do that. It’s still hundreds of miles to Antioch.”
The Queen leaned forward and spoke vehemently. “Eager though I am to see my uncle, I cannot believe that it is impossible to rest for a short while and then travel rather more gently. As Laval says, the men are hungry and we ladies have bruises in some most unfortunate places.”
The Queen smiled archly up at the young knights stationed behind her chair. They grinned appreciatively at the image she presented.
Raoul bent down and whispered in the Count’s ear.
“The Turks have control of Antioch, sir. Don’t they know that?”
“Hush!”
“We plan to reach Antioch early in the New Year,” Louis was saying. “Count Raymond will welcome us and together we will drive Zengi from Edessa. This is what Pope Eugenius summoned us to do. It is our Holy duty.”
Raoul longed to speak out, to tell the King what he knew. He forced himself to stand quietly. Geoffrey, the Count of Blois’s squire looked across at him and raised his eyebrows enquiringly.
“But Count Raymond will not thank you for an army of skeletons!” de Bar sur Aube, the King’s captain, was saying.
Raoul shook his head and looked away.
“How many of you are in favour of our having a day’s rest?”
All but one of the lords shouted their agreement.
“Make it two days, sire,” Laval insisted. “We can send foraging parties in all directions and scour the countryside for food – and for Turks also.”
Louis consulted individually with those closest to him on each side. Eleanor raised her eyes to Heaven, visibly impatient for her husband to make his decision.
“My lord, you must speak to the King,” Raoul whispered urgently to Tréguier. “His information is out of date – the Turks hold Antioch.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“The girl I rescued had come from there,” he said.
“Pooh! What would she know?”
“It was her brother who told me.”
“The Count of Antioch is related to the Queen. He will have sent messages. Your informant must have got it wrong – or Raymond’s re-taken it! I hardly think you’re likely to know better than the King, Raoul. Are you?”
“Perhaps not, sir – though I still think you ought to speak to him.”
“We’ll see; we’ll see.”
“My lord, I think you must! It could be of vital importance. Kamala’s brother also told me that the Muslim leader now is a man called Nur Ed-Din. Zengi is dead.”
“That’s probably a very good thing. Old Zengi was quite a fighter, so they say. But it makes no odds, Raoul. One of these Muslim dogs is much like another – they run at the first sight of Christian knights.”
“The Turks that massacred the Germans didn’t.”
“No, but there you are, lad. They were German, weren’t they? Not like us.”
Raoul shrugged and fell silent, stepping back to his place behind the Count’s seat. It was hopeless. Tréguier didn’t want to listen and nor, doubtless, would the King even if Tréguier attempted to tell him – and Raoul thought it unlikely that he would.
Louis was clearing his throat.
“Having sought advice from our wisest counsellors, we have decided to remain in this place for two days. We shall leave at dawn on the third. Thank you, my lords. You may return to your forces.”
The following morning the sun shone in a cloudless blue sky. There was no wind at all. It was a perfect day. Leaving only a minimal force to guard the camp, parties went up into the surrounding hills to find what provisions they could. The horses were able to rest, drink and graze on the river banks. Further upstream, the squires and pages from the Royal camp set to work washing the accumulated soiled linen, spreading the garments out to dry on the nearby trees and bushes.
There was no need for the Bretons to go out foraging, so they had been given leave to occupy themselves in whatever way they chose. Some of the troopers followed the river down to the sea to try a little fishing – others simply lay about in the sun or played at dice. The Count and Bertrand had gone hunting with the Duke of Laval and his knights.
Despite the idyllic tranquillity of the day, Raoul felt strangely restless and wandered away to the edge of the camp. The Queen and her ladies, perhaps ten in number, were setting off along the coast, back the way they had come, laughing and chattering. They were accompanied by three personable young knights, one of whom carried a beribboned lute, and were followed by a couple of pageboys with laden baskets.
One of the ladies noticed Raoul and whispered something to the Queen. Eleanor looked across at him, studied him for a moment, and then smiled.
“Join us, if you wish, young sir. I have spotted a little sheltered bay not far away and there we are going to sport in the waves like Venus and her attendant nymphs.”
The ladies tittered. One of the knights said something in the Queen’s ear and earned a playful slap.
Raoul bowed low.
“I’m sorry, your Majesty, but...” He was unsure how to refuse wit
hout offending her. He wasn’t sure why he felt he must refuse. “I...I have other duties.”
“You’re too shy, you mean!” Eleanor looked at him in amusement. “It’s all right, you know. We plan to keep our shifts on!”
There was a general laugh.
“Are you sure it’s safe, madam?” Raoul asked, ignoring the giggling and suggestive comments. “You seem poorly guarded. Will His Majesty be joining you?”
Eleanor smiled.
“Your concern for my safety is very touching, young man. My saintly Louis will spend the day in prayer, not in play. If you are worried, you must come and guard me yourself.”
“We can protect her well enough, squire,” said one of the knights. He was a swaggering youth with bold blue eyes and curly blond hair.
“Aye,” agreed the others.
They were all slim, fresh-faced young men clearly chosen for their handsome looks rather than for their ability as fighters. They each wore a sword but had left off their mail-shirts. Presumably they were too cumbersome for a day’s dalliance with the ladies. By the flirtatious looks passing between them and the younger and prettier ladies, dalliance, and more besides, was certainly part of their intentions.
“Thank you, Roland.” Eleanor patted the blond boy on the cheek. “Now we must be on our way. I am sorry I cannot persuade you to go with us.”
“I’m sorry too, my lady. God be with you.”
“How sweet! Come, friends.”
Eleanor raised her hand in greeting and led her companions away.
Raoul returned to the Breton camp.
“What’s the matter?” Gustave looked up from his dice game with Pierre and two of the Trégorrois knights. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Raoul sat down by Pierre. “I just feel uneasy somehow – as if we shouldn’t be making merry as if it was a feast day.”
“D’you want to take a look around?” asked Gustave. “I’m game, if you like.”
Raoul shrugged.
“Why should I worry? Tréguier doesn’t need me at his side, Loat, Begoc and their friends are fishing, the ladies have all gone down to bathe...”
“That’s a sight I wouldn’t mind seeing,” said Claude de Hautville with a lecherous grin, “Louise de Tierce in nothing but her shift, gazing up at me adoringly with her big blue eyes!”
“We can all dream, Claude,” laughed Renier de Quintin. “She’d be more likely to be smacking your face!”
“Seriously, Raoul, we’ll ride out with you if you want,” Pierre said. “I’ve seldom known you to be wrong. Remember Combourg?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” said Gustave. “Do you gentlemen want to join us?”
“Aye, why not?” Renier got to his feet and stretched.
“I’ll wager we see nothing, though,” Claude said.
“What not even Louise’s breasts?” sniggered Renier.
“Especially not those!”
“What do you wager?” Pierre asked. “I’ll take you on.”
“All right – a gold piece and a day’s rations.”
“Done!”
“I hope you lose, Pierre,” Raoul said, picking up his mail-shirt and pulling it on.
“We’re going fully armed, then?” Renier said in some surprise.
“If Raoul is, we’d better all be,” Gustave said grimly. “This lad has an instinct for trouble.”
A short time later, the four rode out of the camp.
“Which way, Raoul?”
“The foraging parties have gone in every direction but north,” he said thoughtfully.
“There’s no mystery there,” said Renier. “They’ve already seen that nothing’s growing – and any half intelligent beast fled the minute it smelt us.”
“So let’s go that way. The others will pick up anything suspicious elsewhere.”
“Lead on then, de Metz.”
Instead of simply following the coastal route which they had taken on their way south, Raoul led them inland and then up into the hills. From there they could see for miles, but no movement was visible in any direction. Picking their way carefully, they then rode down into the valley, went a few miles to the east, climbed halfway up the slope of a somewhat higher hill and scanned the countryside again. This time they could see the line of the river leading down to their camp but no sign of life nearby.
“This time your nose seems to have failed you, Raoul.”
“Good. I’ll be glad to get this helmet off. Let’s find the Queen’s little bay and check that none of the ladies need their backs scrubbing, then let’s go back to camp.”
“Louise! Wait for me!”
Claude dug his spurs into his horse’s flanks and set off down towards the river, closely followed by the others.
The secluded spot which Eleanor had spoken of was just a little to the north of the camp. It was tucked into the lee of a headland but was easily accessible either from the southern end where the bluff gave way to sandy dunes or from the north where it had been eroded into a steep but manageable slope.
The five men halted their horses and looked down at the merry scene below. The ladies seemed to have finished bathing now but still reclined at ease on the sand in only their white shifts, their outer garments scattered round them in colourful heaps. They had unbraided and combed out their long hair. One of the pages was brushing the Queen’s – it was jet black and plentiful, Raoul noticed. She had always been swathed in veils when he had seen her before. Roland, the blonde knight, was stripped to the waist and playing the lute; several of the ladies were joining in with the chorus of his ballad. The lilting notes floated up to the listeners above. One of the other young men was lying with his head in the lap of a red-haired girl. The third, as Raoul and his friends watched, took a laughing brunette by the hand and led her away from the others towards the dunes.
Claude groaned.
“Louise, Louise, how can you prefer him to me? De Metz, we should have come here first. Who is it, Renier? I shall challenge him to a duel!”
“Too far off to see,” Renier said. “Look, that little page is eating all the food while the others aren’t looking! He’s got the right idea, to my mind.”
They peered down to where de Quintin was pointing and laughed.
“What’s that, Raoul? Look over there to the north. There’s a dust cloud.” Gustave narrowed his eyes.
“Horsemen, I’d say, moving fast and coming this way,” said Claude. “It’ll be some of the hunters bringing home their catch.”
“From there?”
“They’ll have looped round.”
“I’m heading back to camp,” Renier said. “You coming or are you going down to join the ladies?”
“Wait a moment.” Raoul’s tone was urgent.
The riders, perhaps a dozen of them bunched tightly together, had come into view now at the northern end of the bay. They stopped, presumably observing the party on the sand below.
“Someone else keen to see Louise’s paps!” Renier snorted. “Personally, I prefer dogs to women.”
“Oh, Christ, Gustave, those aren’t Norman helmets!” Raoul suddenly gasped. “They’re Saracens!”
As he spoke, the horsemen began to move forward, down the slope towards the bay. Raoul wheeled Hercules, drove in his heels and plunged at breakneck speed towards the dunes. After a second, the others followed him, the destriers’ great hooves throwing up huge clouds of sand. There was an exclamation of outraged fury from Louise de Tierce and her lover as they rode practically over the top of them.
“Turks! Run!” Raoul cried.
A few minutes later and he was out onto the level sand. The ladies on the beach were still chattering and singing, blithely unaware of the danger approaching. Raoul drew his sword and urged the horse to a gallop.
“Run! Run!” he yelled.
They looked round in astonishment. The Turkish riders were on the beach too, now, and galloping towards them. Caught between the
two opposing forces, there was only one way to go. Screaming in terror, they leapt up and fled towards the sea. Roland flung down the lute and ran to pick up his sword. One of the Turks swerved, galloped towards him and severed his head with a single stroke of his curved sword.
Moments later, the two forces met, the Frenchmen outnumbered by more than two to one. Standing in his stirrups, Raoul hacked at the nearest Turk who attempted to parry with his shield. Raoul struck again and this time caught him a heavy blow to the shoulder, dislodging him from the saddle. Before he could get up, Raoul finished him. He then wheeled Hercules and charged towards the next man, felling him with a wide sweeping blow.
Raoul paused for a moment, assessing where he was most needed. Pierre seemed to have successfully dealt with one Turk and was fighting a second. Two further bloody corpses looked like Gustave’s work. Renier and Claude were hard-pressed but fending off three Turks between them. A fourth spurred towards Raoul. His sword met the curved blade with such force that the weapon was knocked from the Turk’s hand. Raoul then thrust his sword-point into the man’s throat, wrenched it free and plunged after two riders who were heading towards the sea.
Foolishly, instead of fleeing back to the camp, Louise and the French knight had run down to the shore. Seeing them, one of the Turks turned towards them, viciously cutting the young man down with a couple of slashing blows. He then grabbed the girl and hauled her screaming across his saddle-bow. At the water’s edge the other Turk sprang from his horse and waded towards the knot of trembling women who were huddled together waist deep. The two terrified pages had taken refuge in the arms of one of the older ladies. The one unarmed knight seemed to be totally panic-stricken. It didn’t surprise Raoul in the least when Queen Eleanor, instead of cowering at the back, strode forward to confront her attacker.
“Be gone! Leave us alone, foul Muslim dog!” she shouted, waving her arms wildly. “What? Attack a flock of frightened women and a few boys, would you? If I had a sword I’d kill you myself!”
His attention fixed on the Queen rather than Raoul, the Turk laughed contemptuously, seized her by her unbound hair and jerked her towards him. She spat in his face. At that moment, Raoul reached him, bringing his sword down two-handed onto the spiked helmet. He swayed, stunned, and dropped to his knees. Unhesitatingly, Eleanor shoved him down and pushed his head beneath the water, holding him there until she was sure he must be dead.
The Rightful Heir Page 34