She leaned over and mischievously tried to prise my fingers apart.
‘So I see.’
‘Livia, please!’
‘I am not a child.’
‘You are not a woman either.’
‘But you could make me one …’
Her words hung tantalizingly in the air as she rested her hand on my stomach and started to move it towards my fully swollen prick. At the same time, she pushed her chemise open so that I could see her breasts, beautifully symmetrical with pert, dark-brown nipples.
I do not know how, but I forced myself to get to my feet and walk towards the nearby bushes, hoping that I would find my clothes.
As I dressed, the silence of the hillside surrounded me, broken only by the sound of Livia’s muffled sobs.
Livia did not speak to me for the next two days. My rejection had humiliated her of course, and she must have felt very embarrassed. I was in turmoil. I knew I had done the right thing – my conscience and all reason kept telling me that – but every sinew of my body craved for me to do otherwise.
When we later started to walk down the valley towards Mut, I tried to broach the subject delicately with Livia.
‘I’m sorry if I have caused you offence. I hope you understand that I have a duty to your brother and to your future husband.’
Her face was set like stone; she did not blink, but turned to look at me, white with anger.
‘I hope you understand what you did. You humiliated me. We could have returned to Venice as a married couple; my brother would have had no choice but to accept it. You would be rich and powerful. Circumstances threw together a young English knight and a princess of Venice on a mountain in Anatolia.’
Her stony face softened. She shook her head and grimaced.
‘And you turned her down. You’re a fool, Harold of Hereford. Anyway, I’m sure Roger of Salerno will be more than adequate in making a woman out of me.’
I turned away and moved quickly ahead. I had never imagined she would contemplate marrying me. Could it be true? If it was, I really was a fool. Was this the kind of sacrifice that I would have to endure? If it was, it was unbearable.
I continued to look ahead. I walked briskly, trying to separate myself from what had just happened. There was no turning back, nothing I could say to Livia that would repair the damage. After a cosseted young life, which demanded that she remain chaste and precious for her future husband, she had chosen to risk everything, to follow her heart and give herself to a young English knight with few prospects. It was a choice made out of young love. But the man she had chosen had made a choice born of duty.
The two positions were irreconcilable. Even if I changed my mind, it would do no good; the damage had been done. Truly, I was a fool.
We found all that we needed at the Byzantine fortress at Mut. With Livia’s silver ducati, which I had kept safe throughout our ordeal, we bought horses, provisions and a string of mules. We travelled south through the fabled Cilician Gates, a narrow pass to the coast through which armies had marched to the Levant for hundreds of years. We were told in Mut that Alexander the Great had taken his army through the Gates, as had Darius and his Persian horde, and Mark Antony and his Roman legions on his way to meet Queen Cleopatra in the ancient city of Tarsus.
The journey should have been a fascinating one, following in the footsteps of mighty warriors from the past, but our mood was sombre. Apart from the tension between Livia and myself, we had to come to terms with the loss of Wulfric and Toste and all our other comrades. Their eventual fate outside the lair of the Seljuks was a mystery to us, and so it would remain, leaving us to reflect on their demise for the rest of our lives. The one grain of comfort I had was that Eadmer eventually acknowledged that I had done the right thing in making sure Livia was safe when we were ambushed by the Seljuks. It was our duty to protect her, and Wulfric and Toste had almost certainly already been killed.
Within the month we were in Tarsus, before moving on to the coast, to the impressive Byzantine fortress at Mamure, from where we could send a message back to Venice. Livia insisted that we stay in Mamure for the winter, so that her hair could grow and she could prepare herself for her wedding in Antioch. The boy-servant pretence was over and such was the rift between us that she insisted our informalities must end. Once again, she became Lady Livia, to be addressed as ‘ma’am’ or ‘my Lady’ at all times.
She stayed at the residence of the Byzantine Governor of Mamure, while Eadmer and I were quartered with his garrison, a Greek theme from Thrace. We saw very little of Livia and, when we did, she hardly acknowledged us. At the end of the year, a Venetian war galley arrived with a new dowry for Livia and a new escort of marines. The commander of the galley brought a message from the Doge.
Noble Knight, Harold of Hereford,
My gratitude to you knows no bounds. You have done a great service to me and to Venice. Please continue your mission to deliver the Lady Livia to Antioch and stay with her until her safety and happiness are assured by Roger of Salerno.
I have ordered that you be elevated to the status of Knight Commander of Venice, a position that includes a gift of land and an annual gratuity from my Exchequer.
I look forward to thanking you in person when you return.
Congratulations,
Domenico Michele
Although it was gratifying to receive such a commendation from the Doge, it did little to assuage the loss I felt in being ostracized by Livia.
I was in despair and beyond help.
10. Battle of Sarmada
The Doge had sent new weapons and armour for Eadmer and me. Livia had been sent a new lady-in-waiting, Constance, and with her a trunk of fine new clothes. I should have been proud and excited as I stood on deck next to the Captain to welcome Livia aboard. I was in command of the ship and the Captain reported to me. But I felt empty inside, a feeling made even worse by the perfunctory greeting I received from Livia, who went straight to her private cabin and seemed determined to shun any contact with me.
Her disdain towards me lasted for the entire voyage: she favoured me with a few caustic remarks and a generally sullen appearance, which quickly got the crew gossiping about what had happened between us in the Taurus Mountains.
We finally arrived in Seleucia Pieria in May 1119. Our journey had taken over a year, but we were fortunate to be there at all. We disembarked with an immense sense of relief. The sea voyage had brought me a numb sense of acceptance, and now all I wanted to do was to complete the final leg of our journey to Antioch and deliver Livia to her betrothed. Perhaps then I could find some peace and resume my search for my own destiny.
However, our docking in Seleucia Pieria signalled more disconcerting news. Antioch was only a day’s ride away and we were making our final preparations to leave for the city when disturbing rumours began to circulate among the marines. The Captain – a dour, thin-faced man called Giovanni – called me over to tell me that it was common knowledge that Count Roger, Prince of Antioch, had recently married Hodierna of Rethel, the very rich widow of Heribrand III of Hierges, one of the leading knights of the Great Crusade. She was considerably older than Roger, but very wealthy.
As Captain Giovanni was at pains to make clear to me, it was my duty, as commander of Lady Livia’s escort, to tell her the news. It would have been an onerous task at the best of times but, in the circumstances, it was a task I would have given the earth to avoid.
Livia was making her final preparations for the journey when I approached her. Lady Constance was scurrying around, checking that everything was in order.
‘My Lady, may I have a word in private?’
‘You can speak in front of Lady Constance.’
; ‘Ma’am, in this instance, we should speak alone.’
She looked annoyed and inconvenienced, but she grudgingly acquiesced to my request.
‘Very well.’
We walked a little way down the quayside. Livia would still not look me in the eye.
‘May I call you Livia?’
‘No, you certainly may not!’
‘I need to talk to you as a friend –’
‘Don’t be impertinent!’
‘Livia, please listen to me. I have some news you are not going to like.’
She suddenly turned and looked at me, something she had not done in weeks. Although she tried to appear forthright, I could see that she was anxious.
‘Well, spit it out, friend.’
‘Count Roger already has a wife: Hodierna of Rethel, widow of Heribrand III of Hierges.’
Livia’s face froze in horror, and her eyes widened; she did not speak for some time. I could see her trying to compose herself. Her hands started to shake and I stepped towards her, in an attempt to comfort her, but she waved me aside in a gesture that obviously said no. She dropped her chin on to her chest and took a deep breath.
‘I’m ready to leave. I would like to go immediately.’
‘To Antioch?’
‘Yes, to Antioch.’
‘Very well, my Lady.’
I left four marines with the galley and, using horses provided by Roger’s stables in Seleucia, we rode off as a column. The ladies and their baggage were transported in a small carriage, and I placed six pairs of riders to the front and six to the rear. Eadmer led the rear platoon while I took the lead. The road to Antioch was in excellent condition and we made good progress.
Late in the afternoon, the huge walls of the most impressive citadel in the Holy Land towered above us. It was just as my mother had described it; her stories of the crusaders’ long siege and my father’s part in the eventual fall of the city came flooding back to me.
The Holy Land had been under the control of the Christian Princes ever since the fall of Antioch in 1098 and, a year later, the capture of Jerusalem. Since then, the Christian counties of Edessa and Tripoli, the principality of Antioch and the Kingdom of Jerusalem had held at bay a great encirclement of Muslim armies – and even, in some cases, formed alliances with them.
In the recent past, the old generation of conquering Christian Princes had gradually been replaced by their equally ambitious offspring. The last of them had just died, King Baldwin I of Jerusalem. Having already secured the vital route to the Red Sea at Aqaba, he had been leading a dramatic incursion deep into Egypt with an army of only 1,000 knights and 3,000 infantry.
He was sixty years old, a veteran of countless battles, but an old wound opened in his abdomen and he became desperately ill. He died en route back to his kingdom at the remote desert outpost of al-Arish. Determined that his body should not be left behind in Egypt, he had ordered his cook, a resourceful man called Addo, to prepare his corpse for the long caravan to Jerusalem. Addo was required to open his belly, discard his entrails and salt the rest inside and out. His eyes, mouth, nostrils and ears were pickled in spices and balm and placed inside his body, which was then sewn up, rolled in a carpet and carried back to Jerusalem on the back of his horse. He was buried next to his brother, Godfrey de Bouillon, another legendary figure from the Great Crusade, and another name whose exploits resonated with me from stories my mother had told me as a boy.
I mention the account of King Baldwin’s death and embalming because it was related to me by two knights who were serving with the King and witnessed the events. They were Hugh de Payens and Godfrey de Saint-Omer – two men who would soon play a significant role in my life.
We were escorted through Antioch’s famous Dog Gate and greeted outside the keep by Prince Roger’s surprisingly aged wife, Princess Hodierna, who ushered us into the Great Hall. The whole city seemed deserted, the garrison almost empty and there were only a few servants in the hall. The iciness between the two women was palpable – their jaws set, they resembled two animals stalking one another before a fight. The princess had a chair brought forward for Livia, but she declined the offer.
Livia introduced us, her voice and demeanour betraying no sign of the precariousness of her situation.
‘I am Livia Michelle, Princess of Venice. This is my escort, Harold of Hereford, Knight Commander of Venice. I am here to marry my betrothed, Prince Roger of Salerno.’
Princess Hodierna’s reply was outwardly civil, but her words held a barely disguised hint of condescension.
‘My dear, I think you may have heard by now, Prince Roger and I were married three months ago.’
‘Yes, I have heard. But the fact remains, there is a marriage agreement between Venice and Antioch, an arrangement made in person by my brother, Domenico.’
‘That’s as maybe, my dear, but we thought you were dead or enslaved. There was no word of you for months. And Venice could only tell us that you had left them a year ago.’
‘I need to see Prince Roger.’
‘I’m afraid that will not be possible. He left a week ago with the army. The Muslims are wreaking havoc in the east.’
‘If you will provide us with a guide, we will go after him.’
‘My dear, this is Palestine, it is the middle of June. You cannot go riding off into the desert.’
Livia’s patience finally snapped.
‘I am not your “dear”. I am Lady Livia. If you will not provide a guide, we will find our own way.’
Livia turned to me for confirmation. I was sorely tempted to say no: it was a venture into the unknown with only two dozen marines as escort, and into what appeared to be an impending battle. But I did not want to embarrass Livia in front of her betrothed’s wife. I simply nodded my assent.
Princess Hodierna, no doubt relieved to be rid of her inconvenient visitor, drew the conversation to a close.
‘Very well, Lady Livia, I will give you a guide. But on your own head be it.’
Livia bowed slightly, turned haughtily and departed with her cape flowing behind her.
As soon as we had left the Great Hall, I confronted my mistress.
‘My Lady, this is not wise. I have no experience of the desert, my men are marines; they fight at sea. There is clearly a battle looming and we would be riding into the middle of it. My advice is to wait for the Prince’s return.’
‘You mean sit in that old keep with that hag of his? It could be months.’
‘Going to see Prince Roger is not going to change anything. They are married. Let us go home to Venice. Your brother will know what to do about the marriage settlement.’
‘You are my escort, not the Venetian Ambassador. I will go to Prince Roger and demand an explanation. He should not have taken a wife without talking to Domenico. There was an important trade agreement in the marriage settlement. If an alliance is not created through marriage between Venice and Antioch, it leaves the door open for Genoa to walk in with a new offer. I need to ensure that Prince Roger confirms the agreement.’
I was impressed with Livia’s calculated summary of the predicament we faced, and her willingness to play her role in it.
‘But, ma’am, I am responsible for your safety and I answer to the Doge. I cannot guarantee your safety if you insist on riding into a battle zone.’
‘You don’t have to. I will take responsibility for my own safety. While you’re here with me, you answer to me. Now, let that be the end of it.’
I could see her mind was made up and that she was unlikely to be dissuaded. But before she dismissed me, I was determined to impose my terms.
‘There are conditions, my Lady.’
‘What are they?’
‘You travel light; your dowry and
jewels stay here in Antioch’s treasury. You and Lady Constance must take simple lightweight clothes, with an emergency contingency of soldier’s dress if something goes wrong – you cannot ride side-saddle if we have to outrun a Muslim army.’
‘Agreed.’
‘We leave at first light tomorrow, my Lady.’
‘Very good, I’ll be ready.’
When I told Eadmer of the plan, he was, as usual, philosophical about it.
‘It’s madness! So far, we’ve been ambushed by pirates, shipwrecked, nearly killed by the bloody flux, waylaid by the Seljuks, and now we’re marching off into the desert in the middle of a battle …’
He paused, but only to grin at me.
‘The men will be ready at dawn. I’ll make sure we have good horses for the ladies and each man will carry two skins of water.’
Roger and his army, slowed by a full baggage train, could not have gone far in a week. We had no wagons or pack animals, so I calculated that we could travel between a third and a half as quickly again as he could. I estimated four days before we would catch up with him. I had only two concerns: running into reconnaissance troops from the Muslim army, and the pressure on Livia and Constance from long days in the saddle.
Livia had regained all her radiance; the lustre of her hair and skin had returned. Even with the stern demeanour she had adopted towards me recently, the beguiling serenity of her face was still irresistible. Her body was still a captivating mystery, and I longed to see if it matched my imagination. I fantasized about it, both in my sleep and in my daydreams. I had seen the arresting curves of her slim and girlish form while she slept, and had peered through her open chemise during our disastrous encounter in the Taurus Mountains. But these were only tempting morsels. What I desperately desired was to feast on her without inhibition and to reveal every part of her. I struggled to make such thoughts stop; they made me breathless, and my heart raced like a galloping warhorse. But I had to contain them – where we were going would require a calm body and a clear head.
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