Prince of Legend
Page 31
‘We can only adopt the course you advocate, Tancred, if we are joined by Raymond.’
Normandy responded to Godfrey in a manner that, if he shocked him, he did well to disguise. ‘I will not march on the news Tancred has brought to us.’
‘You do not see the threat?’ Godfrey asked.
‘I see an army disembarking but I do not see one marching towards us. Unless they do and their intention is clear, why should we countenance the threat as real?’
‘I cannot think you believe that,’ Flanders exclaimed.
Normally friendly to his brother-in-law, Normandy snapped back. ‘Being related to me by matrimony does not give you leave to question my judgement.’
Flanders was not to be put down; his response was just as forceful. ‘If I observe any judgement within you, perhaps I would question it, as it is I see nothing but foolishness.’
‘I could make you eat those words.’
‘You could try.’
‘My Lords, I beg of you,’ Godfrey cried. ‘Let us not bicker.’
‘No, let us not,’ Normandy replied, ‘and to ensure there is no more of such I will withdraw.’
The advocate was left looking at his fellow nobleman’s back and Tancred surmised he was thinking that now Godfrey was close to understanding the depth of the task that had so troubled Bishop Adémar of Puy, this as Flanders spoke.
‘I agree with Tancred. If we are to meet this vizier let us do so in open battle, where our tactics have always favoured us.’
‘You wish to march out and face the Egyptians,’ asked Godfrey softly, ‘without Toulouse or your kinsman of Normandy?’
‘I do. If God’s grace got us to where we now stand, I have faith that he will continue to bless us with his favour.’
‘I agree,’ Tancred said.
‘Then let it be so, and may God protect and preserve us.’
Led by the nobles and Bishop Arnulf, parading his piece of the True Cross, barefoot and in prayer, the half-host under Godfrey left Jerusalem to take on the might of Egypt. Such was the shame heaped upon both Robert of Normandy and Raymond of Toulouse by their own followers that both men were obliged, only days later, to lead their forces to join with them at Ramleh, the Provençals still using as a totem the Holy Lance. Jerusalem was stripped of fighting men, left to be held by prayer alone and once more, as on so many occasions, the Crusade was facing either triumph or death.
Luck or divine intervention gave them details of al-Afdal’s intentions, this tortured out of a group of captured Egyptian scouts. The Vizier had completed his landings, bringing from his domains a massive force made up of heavy Egyptian cavalry, Berbers, Bedouins and giant Ethiopians. His intention was to march on Jerusalem on the very next day. In the discussion of how to respond, Tancred once more invoked the name of Bohemund, advocating that boldness would outweigh Fatimid numbers.
‘We know where they are camped and we know they think themselves invincible,’ he insisted, ‘and therein lies our best weapon, their own arrogance.’
‘Trust a de Hauteville to know all about arrogance,’ Raymond of Toulouse cawed.
That got him a jaundiced look from Godfrey de Bouillon, now, even to Raymond’s own knights, the undisputed commander of the host. So telling was that glance that the Count of Toulouse had no more to contribute.
‘Let us attack him, instead of waiting for him to attack us.’
Flanders demurred. ‘Defensive battle suits us.’
‘Which al-Afdal well knows. He will anticipate that we will pick a good field on which to fight him and dispose his troops accordingly.’
‘And we should do what?’ Godfrey asked, his eyes ranging around the pavilion; no one but Tancred responded.
‘Attack him at first light.’
It took an age for Godfrey to make a decision, but when he did the words were prophetic. ‘May the Good Lord preserve and protect us.’
Marching out in darkness, the host found that in al-Afdal they had an adversary so full of confidence that he had not thought to set out piquets on the outskirts of Ascalon to warn of any hostile approach. Unhindered, the Crusaders fell upon his encampment while many of his men were barely aroused from their night’s slumber, their arms stacked still by their campfires and slow to be employed. In a situation where mercy, never in good supply, would have been folly, the slaughter was immense.
Raymond of Toulouse on the right flank, for all his faults a good general, having ridden right through the camp, in the process stealing the Vizier’s personal standard, drove the only troops that held their formation, the Egyptian cavalry, into the sea, where men and horses drowned. Godfrey attacking on the left drove his enemies towards the gates of Ascalon, too narrow to permit mass entry and soon closed so that those inside could save themselves. The remainder were butchered on the outside.
Tancred and Robert of Flanders, attacking in the centre, routed the men they faced, many of whom sought to hide in trees and bushes to escape their fate, which was useless: all they became was sport for lance and bow, while those who prostrated themselves and begged were slaughtered like beasts. When the Crusade departed the field they left only corpses on which the carrion could feed. In their train they carried immeasurable wealth, the treasures and possessions of one of the richest rulers in the world.
Under their banner and their holy relics, Godfrey de Bouillon led them in triumph back through the gates of Jerusalem, at his right hand Tancred de Hauteville under his own red flag with its blue and white chequer, now truly, to all who spoke of him, the martial equal of his blood relative Bohemund. To Godfrey’s other side rode Raymond of Toulouse, Robert of Normandy and his namesake of Flanders. In their wake came carts laden with such treasure it would not have disgraced a Roman triumph of old.
The Crusade called by Pope Urban at Clermont had fought its last battle and they had won: Jerusalem, the holiest city in the Christian world, was in the hands of men who could now claim, without being challenged, to be the most puissant warriors in the world.
About the Author
JACK LUDLOW is the pen-name of writer David Donachie, who was born in Edinburgh in 1944. He has always had an abiding interest in history: from the Roman Republic to medieval warfare as well as the naval history of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which he has drawn on for his many historical adventure novels. David lives in Deal with his partner, the novelist Sarah Grazebrook.
By Jack Ludlow
THE CRUSADES SERIES
Son of Blood
Soldier of Crusade
Prince of Legend
THE ROADS TO WAR SERIES
The Burning Sky
A Broken Land
A Bitter Field
THE REPUBLIC SERIES
The Pillars of Rome
The Sword of Revenge
The Gods of War
THE CONQUEST SERIES
Mercenaries
Warriors
Conquest
Written as David Donachie
THE JOHN PEARCE SERIES
By the Mast Divided
A Shot Rolling Ship
An Awkward Commission
A Flag of Truce
The Admirals’ Game
An Ill Wind
Blown Off Course
Enemies at Every Turn
A Sea of Troubles
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Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2013.
This ebook edition published by Allison & Busby in 2013.
Copyright © 2013 by DAVID DONACHIE
(Writing as Jack Ludlow)
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1471–1