Anarchy

by Stewart Binns

  We rode as a highly disciplined group: three hours at dawn, then food; two more hours, then food and rest in the shade until the late afternoon; three more hours, then food and sleep. All the time it was canter, then trot; canter, then trot. Men continually peeled off to look for water for the horses – without that, we would have had to walk. Thankfully, Constance was a lot younger than Livia’s earlier companions and kept the pace well. Livia never gave a hint of discomfort. Her mind was on only one thing: confronting her erstwhile fiancé. And that opportunity arrived a little sooner than I had anticipated.

  We had just reached the end of the third day when a pathfinder I had sent ahead with the guide returned at a gallop, pursued by several Christian knights and a squadron of cavalry. I rode ahead to meet them, to be confronted by an agitated knight who, without any of the usual courtesies, demanded to know what our business was on the frontier of Christendom. Although the Christians of the Holy Land had come to be known as ‘Franks’, most of them were either Norman or from Normandy’s neighbours. The Norman tongue had thus become the common language.

  ‘Good evening, Sir Knight. I am Harold of Hereford and I am escorting the Lady Livia, Princess of Venice, to meet her betrothed, Prince Roger of Salerno.’

  ‘You have brought a woman out here?’

  ‘Perhaps you would give me your name, sir?’

  Irritated at my insistence on formality, he spat his answer at me.

  ‘Guy of Amiens. I ask you again, you’ve brought a woman out here?’

  ‘Yes – two, in fact. They are back there with my marines.’

  He turned to his fellow knights, smirking.

  ‘Marines … and two women … out here? You must be a madman!’

  He started to laugh out loud, causing his comrades to do the same. While they did so, Livia, pursued by Constance, rode at speed to join us. She hesitated for just a moment, gave the Christian knight a withering look, and rode straight past him.

  The knight was dumbfounded.

  ‘Where is she going? There’s a Muslim fanatic out there, Il-Ghazi, the Atabeg of Aleppo, with an Artuqid army ten thousand strong!’

  I ignored him and waved to my squadron to follow me in pursuit of Livia. It was a long chase. She did not let up her pace, leaving Constance fifty yards in her wake, and was in danger of exhausting her horse. I caught her after about ten minutes and bellowed at her to stop, which she eventually did, harshly pulling up her mount.

  ‘Livia, for God’s sake! You’ll kill your horse, he’s been ridden all day.’

  ‘I want to see Prince Roger tonight. If there’s going to be a battle, I want to challenge him before he gets himself killed.’

  ‘Fine, we’ll get you there. Just wait for the military escort. Let’s make our entrance in a way befitting the arrival of the Princess of the Serenissima.’

  She relented and, with Guy of Amiens and his squadron leading us, we rode into Prince Roger’s camp in a highly disciplined fashion. Venetian marines are not trained cavalry, but they looked splendid in their red tunics and carrying their shields decorated with the city’s golden lion. The squadron horn-blower sounded our arrival, making the whole camp stop and stare at the unexpected visitors.

  I helped Livia down from her horse and she marched over to the Prince’s tent with long, deliberate strides, more like the gait of a military equerry than that of a gentle lady of a royal household. Prince Roger was already on his feet. He was surrounded by his entourage and senior knights. They were relaxed and had already started eating and drinking. The Prince was very tall and thin with red hair, scorched blond by the hot sun of the Levant, but with long streaks of grey at the temples. He looked mean-faced and calculating, but had all the superficial charm of a nobleman.

  ‘My Lady, I am honoured. Welcome to my camp. I am Roger of Salerno, Prince of Antioch.’

  ‘I know your name, my Lord. I am Livia Michele, Princess of Venice.’

  The Prince visibly blanched.

  ‘Madam, please sit. I am overwhelmed. I thought you were lost. I …’

  He hesitated, not knowing what to say next.

  Livia seized the advantage.

  ‘May we go inside and talk privately?’

  The Prince nodded his assent.

  ‘Of course, madam. My constable will take care of your men and horses.’

  She turned to me.

  ‘Please wait here.’

  I did not want her to leave my sight. But there was nothing I could say to justify being privy to the conversation she was about to have.

  After about half an hour, Livia emerged looking much more relaxed. With a large goblet of wine in his hand, the Prince was smiling broadly; it looked like an amicable deal had been struck. Livia spoke to me a little less sternly than she had of late.

  ‘Would you ask Lady Constance to join me? We are going to eat with Prince Roger.’

  ‘Very well, ma’am. Do you want me to stay with you?’

  ‘That will not be necessary. You can stay with the men.’

  ‘And what about you?’

  ‘Prince Roger is arranging a tent for me.’

  ‘Then we will guard it.’

  ‘You will not! That would be an insult to the Prince. I am his guest.’

  ‘And yet, thirty minutes ago you were ready to roast him alive. So what has changed?’

  ‘He is charming. He explained that he was certain our ship had been lost and that his marriage to Hodierna was vital to Antioch’s future prosperity. More importantly, he has agreed to all the terms of the agreement with the Doge. We have an exclusive trade arrangement for five years.’

  ‘So is he going to marry you both? I think that’s called bigamy in the eyes of the Church.’

  ‘Of course not! We leave for Antioch in the morning.’

  ‘Meanwhile you are still my responsibility. I would feel better posting a guard to protect you tonight.’

  ‘No, I am surrounded by the Prince’s bodyguards and his army. I am perfectly safe.’

  I could do nothing other than bow and leave. I was anxious: I did not like the Prince, but I assumed that it was mainly jealousy. Even so, there was something fabricated about his manners. Chivalry required that he should welcome a fellow knight – even a relatively lowly one – but he had ignored me. Although, since Livia had failed to introduce me, perhaps he had taken his lead from her discourtesy. I forced myself to accept that I was being too protective – and, indeed, too covetous of Livia’s attentions – and returned to Eadmer to ask him about the men.

  ‘So what do you make of Roger’s army, my friend?’

  ‘There are some seasoned knights by the look of them. I’m not too sure about the infantry – they look like a lazy ill-disciplined bunch. Only about half of them are Christians. That lot over there are Turcopoles, according to that officious bugger who came to greet us – Anatolian mercenaries. Muslims, he said. It seems strange to me to pay Muslims to fight Muslims. I wouldn’t trust any of them in a fight.’

  I looked over at them. Eadmer was right: they seemed impressive enough in their red tunics and conical helmets, but they had an aura of indifference about them.

  ‘How many men do you think the Prince has?’

  ‘I count seven hundred knights and three thousand infantry, half of which are Turcopoles and half made up of a Christian rabble that looks like the dregs of Europe.’

  ‘I thought Guy of Amiens said the Muslim army is ten thousand strong?’

  ‘I know, but he said the Muslims flee as soon as the battle gets fierce and that seven hundred battle-hardened Christian knights would have them on the run within an hour.’

  ‘Do they anticipate joining battle soon?’

  ‘He wasn’t sure. He didn’t seem to know w
here the enemy was camped either.’

  ‘None of this inspires me with any confidence. Livia says she has done a deal with Prince Roger and that we will leave in the morning, but I’m going to keep an eye on her. They’re eating and drinking without a care in the world, and I don’t see anyone planning for a battle. Get the men camped near the perimeter, where we came in, then have a look round. I’m going to check on the ladies.’

  All I could hear outside the Prince’s tent was laughter and animated conversation. All seemed well. However, when I met Eadmer again he was looking anxious.

  ‘This camp is in a steep valley. The far end, over there, is the top of it. There is only one way in – the way we came.’

  ‘The Prince is either very confident that the Muslims are miles away, or he’s a fool.’

  ‘The men will be ready at dawn.’

  ‘Good! I’ll go and speak to Livia.’

  It took Livia several minutes to emerge from the tent when I asked to see her. She was furious with me for disturbing her.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘We should leave at dawn. Eadmer and I are very concerned about the safety of this camp. And it appears that the Prince’s army is outnumbered at least three to one.’

  Livia smirked. I could see that she had been drinking and was merry.

  ‘Don’t fuss. These are men whose fathers conquered this land and now they hold it against an enemy that is both a savage and a coward. We will leave when I see fit. But I can tell you it will not be before the sun has warmed the ground.’

  I had no choice but to obey my mistress’s orders, and I left her without another word. It was a long night; I found it difficult to sleep and checked on Livia several times. At first there were the same sounds of revelry and then, at a very late hour, all was quiet. With the Prince’s tent in darkness, I returned to my tent and must finally have fallen asleep.

  I woke with a jolt. I could hear a cacophony of sounds: men were shouting orders, armour was clanging and there were horns in the distance that I had not heard before. I knew immediately they were Muslims battle horns.

  I shouted at Eadmer to get the men mounted and meet me at Prince Roger’s tent. I ran to check on the ladies. When I arrived at the Prince’s tent, he and his senior commanders were already in their saddles and starting to ride out. They looked a lot more animated than they had been last night, but also very bedraggled from what must have been a long night of revelry. When I pulled open Livia’s tent, Constance screamed; she was barely dressed and close to hysterical. Livia was not there.

  ‘Where is Livia?’

  Her reply was incoherent. I shook her and repeated the question.

  ‘It was late … I left her with the Prince. They were enjoying themselves … I was too tired.’

  I shouted at her, furious at her carelessness.

  ‘Get dressed! Quickly!’

  I rushed to the Prince’s tent and barged the two sentries aside. The remnants of the night before were all over the floor and several stewards were collecting the debris of discarded food, plates, goblets and cutlery. I pushed past them and threw back the curtain of the Prince’s sleeping quarters. At first, all I could see was a heap of rugs and pillows, but then I heard sobbing from beneath the pile.

  ‘Livia!’

  A small head, covered in matted hair, peered out from underneath the rugs, but then pulled itself back out of sight. The sobs became more pitiful. I sat down beside her, but she still buried her face in the pillows and curled herself into a ball.

  ‘Livia, the battle has begun, and the camp is under attack. We must go!’

  ‘Leave me to the Muslims … that is all I am good for.’

  I grabbed the many layers that covered her and wrestled them from her. She was naked, and I could see welts on her arms and thighs. Her face was swollen, as were her lips, and her left eye was bloodshot and bruised. She collapsed into my arms in convulsions of anguish. A battle had begun outside and I was desperate to get her away, but I knew that she needed time.

  After a few moments, she started to speak.

  ‘He hurt me so much, Hal. I had too much to drink and stayed too long. Suddenly, everyone had gone. He was drunk … and he started to take his clothes off. I said no, but he hit me. He hit me so hard. He did horrible things to me … I couldn’t escape. Why did I send you away? You would have protected me.’

  ‘Livia, the only important thing now is to get you away from here.’

  ‘No, please leave me. I am as good as dead already.’

  Her pitiful words galvanized me. Nothing was more important than Livia. My only duty was to her; anything else could go to Hell.

  ‘My love, we can still have a life together. You will always be safe with me. You were right, I was a fool to put my duty before you in the mountains. It will never happen again.’

  I looked around for her clothes, but couldn’t see them. Then Eadmer and Constance appeared and I issued my orders as calmly as I could.

  ‘Constance, get Livia dressed. Eadmer, we’re leaving, get the men ready. I want this tent surrounded until we’re ready to leave. Everyone is an enemy, including the Prince’s men. We’re on our own.’

  Livia had become lifeless, as if in a trance. Constance had brought clothes, but could only wrap her mistress in a cloak. Eadmer helped me to lift Livia’s still form and place her over my saddle. He suggested an escape through the dead end of the valley, rather than the way we had come in, where a ferocious battle was already joined. I would have done anything to go the other way – so that I could challenge Prince Roger and make him pay for what he had done to Livia – but I knew my priority was to get her away safely.

  As soon as the ground started to rise steeply, we dismounted and continued our climb in silence. I tied a cord around the cloak at Livia’s waist and started to pull her up the slope, but she kept stumbling and I had to carry her. Looking up towards the crest of the valley, we could see Muslims on all sides around us. But their focus was on the mayhem at the mouth of the valley, where wave upon wave of Muslim cavalry were hurling themselves at a thin line of Christian defenders. It was not yet entirely daylight and the head of the valley was facing east, so we were in shadow.

  As we cleared the crest, I took one look back before we resumed our mounts. The Christian army was by then entirely encircled and vastly outnumbered. It resembled a fallen fruit being devoured by ants; a pitiless massacre was happening before our eyes.

  As soon as the sun’s rays caught us, our position was revealed to the Artuqid reserves waiting to join the slaughter. Horns sounded and squadrons of cavalry started to gallop in our direction. We had perhaps a 1,000-yard advantage. I knew it would not be enough.

  After a chase of a mile or so, the countryside became less barren and trees started to appear. I immediately ordered that we separate into three groups, thus dividing our pursuers, and I led my group south-east, towards a small outcrop of rock about two miles away. With Eadmer taking responsibility for leading Constance and her mount, we galloped as hard as we could. But with Livia across my saddle, it was obvious that we could not outrun our pursuers. She did not complain, but I could see the discomfort etched on her face. A redoubt of some sort at the rocks was our only option.

  We pulled up behind the outcrop and took up positions giving us as much cover as possible. Eadmer assigned one of the men to hold the horses and guard the women, and we prepared to stand our ground. I counted six remaining marines, besides Eadmer and myself. Our pursuers were shrouded in dust, but numbered at least fifteen.

  ‘Raise your bows, make every arrow count.’

  I calculated that we had time for two volleys.

  ‘Release!’

  I ordered the second volley immediately. The Ve
netian marines’ excellence with the bow was telling. At least six of our pursuers fell before they were upon us. The odds were still not good, but if we could disable a few more they might well think better of it and return to their comrades, where easier pickings were available among Prince Roger’s beleaguered army. I glanced back to make sure Livia was safe. It was a pitiable sight: she was sitting wide-eyed and motionless on the ground, wrapped in Constance’s arms, with no focus, like someone mesmerized.

  In the next moment, the Artuqid horsemen were upon us, lances couched underarm. Knowing that marines are not used to fighting cavalry, I bellowed my orders.

  ‘Bring down the horses! Strike at the legs!’

  We managed to unseat several of them, but it was not enough. I ordered Eadmer to use the man holding the horses to help Livia on to a mount and to make a run for it with her and Constance. He hesitated for a moment. But when he saw that I meant it with all my heart and soul, he did as I bid him to.

  The remaining marines and I then formed a loose circle and a fierce fight ensued. Some of the Artuqids were on foot, but several more were still on horseback. Thankfully, they got in one another’s way and the melee was not as one-sided as it might have been. We fought for our lives, a cause more exhilarating than that of our opponents, who were fighting for the scant reward of the execution of a few Christian stragglers. Perhaps if they had known that the valuable prize of a princess of Venice was among us, it would have made a difference. But they were not to know.

  Two brave men were cut down next to me and another was on his knees with a lance through his shoulder. But our adversaries had lost even more men: the four of us still standing were facing only six opponents. They looked at one another briefly and one of them spat on the ground at our feet, before they turned and rode away towards their army. They would surely send out more men to pursue us, so we were far from safe, but we had bought ourselves some time and a fair chance of escape.

  My arm had been sliced above the elbow by a lance, and my face was bloodied after being struck by my own shield after a blow from a horse’s shoulder. But I had survived another bloody encounter.