by Tony Roberts
“Of course, sire.”
Alexius sighed. The weight of the Empire on his shoulders was sometimes too heavy to bear. “Then we shall plan what your role will be amongst these westerners. As long as you remain within the borders of what should be ours, you shall continue to work for me. Once you pass beyond those horizons you shall be released and follow your own fate. May God go with you.”
At last Casca had what he wanted. He broke the good news to Giselle that evening, and the Frenchwoman was pleased. “Then we can journey to the Holy Land and place the Finger of Syagrius in the Holy Sepulcher?”
“If we get into Jerusalem I assume you’ll be able to place the relic in whatever appropriate place the Church allows you to. Don’t forget all this is being done with the blessing of the Church, so they have the final word in everything. I’ve seen the priests accompanying the army of Godfrey. They look the typical crowd of fanatics that come along on these sort of campaigns.” Casca gave Giselle an even stare. “It won’t be easy. We’ll be traveling with Count Raymond’s army, and they’re not due to turn up yet. I don’t know whether Raymond will take kindly to an imperial officer accompanying him, and even if he does, the journey is going to be a swine. It’ll be summer by the time we’re under way in the Anatolian heartlands. I doubt you know what it’s like, do you?”
Giselle shook her head.
Casca sat down with a huge sigh. He nodded to the servant hovering close by to bring him some alcohol. He needed to wind down. Giselle sat on the other side of the table and waited for him to speak. “The roads used to be reasonably well kept, but that was before the Empire fell from grace.”
“Why was that?”
Casca closed his eyes. Memories of tramping along the roads in the time of Basil II came to him, wars on two fronts, marching from Bulgaria to Syria in successive years, west-east-west-east. They’d gotten to know those roads very well indeed. “The Empire works well when run by good men, but once a fool takes over, then years of hard work and sensible housekeeping can be undone in a matter of weeks. The Empire was ill-served by a succession of fools, and when anyone tried to correct it, he was dismissed or silenced.”
“So – the Empire became corrupt?”
Casca smiled lopsidedly. “I think like all large political entities it’s corrupt to some degree. But yes, the Empire became very corrupt. Leaders put their family or friends in places of high authority and influence, people unsuited to such positions of responsibility, and when those with the knowledge to do the job correctly complained, it was these people who were removed, not the fools. The army was attacked because these fools feared it, and a once mighty war machine rotted away from within. Then came the Turks.”
“And?”
Casca waited until the servant who had returned placed a jug of wine and two mugs on the table. Dismissing the servant Casca poured two mugs of wine. He pushed one across to Giselle. Taking a draught from his mug, he gathered his thoughts. “The Turks were not looking to conquer the Empire. But the emperor at the time needed to show everyone he was a strong man and the right one for the throne. There were rival families intriguing against him, so he took with him those whom he could not trust and placed them in charge of wings of the army. Treachery struck and the emperor lost a battle he should not have because he was betrayed.”
Giselle looked shocked. “Why would Christians betray their lands to the Muslims?”
“Greed, ambition, blindness. They had no idea of the consequences of what they did. All they were interested in was taking the throne for themselves or their family. So the emperor, after being freed by the Turkish sultan, returned to this city to retake his throne but those who had betrayed him conspired to kill him and plunged the Empire into a series of civil wars that destroyed the army, left our lands open to the Turks who walked into the Empire and took undefended cities and towns. In all this chaotic time, the roads and infrastructure like cisterns and irrigation fell into decay, and now much of Anatolia is a wilderness. The Turks are ruling a land that is withered and feeble.”
“So what are you saying, Casca?”
“What I’m saying is that the roads will be poor, the water sparse and the weather inhospitable. We will also have to pass through enemy territory so will be liable to come under attack at any time, and the terrain favors ambush and sudden assaults. It’s very hilly – mountainous in places – and won’t be easy to traverse. Be prepared for a tough journey.”
“It was hard getting this far,” Giselle said. “Once we left Germany and crossed into Hungary, everything got difficult. There was less food, the land was emptier, the people strange and mostly hostile. We had to fight many times to get to the lands of this Empire, and now it seems those that came after us also have to fight you. Why is that?”
Casca grunted, staring at the wine jug. “The emperor here sees himself as superior to the kings of Europe; he’s God’s anointed representative on Earth, so the priests tell us. He’s ruler of the same empire that ruled all those lands your people come from centuries before you were born. Why shouldn’t he ask for submission from those who serve those kings?”
“But this Empire no longer rules our lands, Casca. Why should be bow to him?”
Casca shrugged. It was a fair point. “No vow of support from your nobles, then they get no help from the Empire. Then where are your leaders? Stuck, that’s what.”
Giselle pulled a face. “It will not help relations between your emperor and our leaders, nor our nations.”
“Possibly, but we need each other at this moment in time. Better we ally together against a common foe, don’t you think?”
Giselle nodded, but Casca wasn’t seeing her; he was thinking of the man about to arrive, a giant of a man, a man who had vowed to destroy the Empire in the past, and who had crossed swords with Casca in battle before. He wasn’t hopeful for the future.
CHAPTER TEN
After Godfrey’s army had been ferried across to Asia, the Normans arrived, literally a day or two later. They were led by a giant, a man who possessed charisma in bucketloads. He was a dangerous man and known to Casca all too well.
Bohemond recognized Casca, too. Alexius had wanted Casca at the meeting just to reinforce the feeling of intent and strength from the Eastern Roman Empire. Alexius and Casca knew Bohemond and strength was one of the things the Norman prince respected. Bohemond stood before Alexius, broad, tall, clean shaven, and his yellow hair close-cropped in the style Casca recognized from his time serving with the Normans both in England and in southern Italy.
Bohemond turned and stared at the scarred eternal mercenary in surprise. “Well, this is indeed a surprise to see you here, Stokeham.” The Normans always addressed Casca by his title that he’d gained in England. “You don’t look a day older. Serving in Constantinople must be good for you.”
“Prince Bohemond,” Casca said neutrally, bowing.
“Ironic, is it not? Sword enemies now brought together against a common foe for the glory of God.” Bohemond’s eyes twinkled and Casca wasn’t sure whether he was being sarcastic or not.
“Yes, Prince Bohemond,” Alexius said from his throne, “fate and circumstances, and perhaps God’s will Himself has set aside our blades and put us alongside one another as allies. How do you feel fighting for the Empire you have campaigned against in the past?”
“Fighting for the Empire?” Bohemond said softly, but the edge in his voice was clear to all.
Alexius leaned forward. “In return for supplying your army and providing engineers, scouts and technical help and advice, all I ask is for you to agree to hand back to the Empire those lands you conquer from the Turk that belonged to us before the Battle of Manzikert.”
“Hand lands back to you?” Bohemond looked surprised, then a shrewd look replaced it. “Of course. Allies against a common foe. It is the least we can do.”
“So you would not object to swearing an Oath of Allegiance to myself?”
Casca watched as Bohemond stood there before the emp
eror considering the request, and was surprised when the Norman grinned and nodded. “Not in the slightest, my Lord. Do you wish for witnesses of good character to be present?”
Casca gripped his hilt in a reflex action of annoyance. Bohemond shot him a quick look out of the corner of his eye to see if the insult to Casca had hit home, so Casca relaxed and returned his look with indifference. But Alexius had seen it.
“I shall summon both Duke Godfrey and Lord Baldwin who are staying here to witness your Oath, along with Strategos Longios here whom I know you’ve met before.”
“Yes,” Bohemond turned this time to view Casca properly. Casca inhaled and expanded his chest fully, flexing his muscles, walking the few feet to stand right in front of the Norman. Bohemond towered above Casca but the eternal mercenary was stockier. The two men stood toe to toe, examining one another intently. “I know you, Baron Stokeham. You fought for my father in Italy, yet betrayed us when you deserted our cause and went over to the Greeks. You don’t look old enough to have had lands in England. How is it you received this title, so I’m told, from the hand of Duke William the Bastard himself?”
“King William, Lord Bohemond,” Casca corrected him. “He was no longer a mere Duke,” Casca smiled as he said that, reducing the title to nothing in his eyes, “when he ennobled me. I was much younger then, of course.”
“A child,” Bohemond said gruffly. “Still, a man who deserted his friends.”
“I found a much worthier cause on this side of the Adriatic,” Casca said. “And remember you in battle.”
“As do I you.” Bohemond considered Casca for a moment longer, then turned back to Alexius. “A man not to be trusted, my Lord; he may desert you when it suits him to do so.”
Casca grinned openly behind Bohemond, catching Alexius’ eye. The emperor cleared his throat and waved a lazy hand. “He has my fullest confidence, Lord Bohemond. His loyalty to the Empire is proven. He has done more than anyone I know to bring us back from the brink of the abyss.”
“As you say Lord,” Bohemond said, glancing back at Casca. “As long as he does not serve in my army.”
“I am to serve with Count Raymond.”
“Is that so?” Bohemond raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Then all is fine. I will happily swear my Oath to you, Lord, once Godfrey and Baldwin are here. Tell me, is it true their army is already across the straights?”
Alexius nodded. “They are at a camp at Pelekanon. Your army will join them shortly. Once Count Raymond’s army crosses we can commence matters against the Turk.”
Godfrey and Baldwin arrived soon afterwards and watched as Bohemond solemnly swore his Oath of Allegiance to Alexius, thus becoming the fourth of the Crusader leaders to do so. Bohemond then rose from his kneeling position and beamed widely. Casca distrusted the man and wondered what he had in mind. He wasn’t kept waiting long.
“Lord, my army is well armed and disciplined, and is at this moment a few days’ march away under my nephew Tancred. I have taken great efforts to ensure that my men are the best that can be brought from my homeland. They will follow my commands to the letter, and represent the best you could possibly have fighting under your banner.” He looked at the impassive figures of Godfrey and Baldwin. If either took offense at the words once they had been translated into Frankish, they showed no sign. He continued. “Therefore, Lord, I would be honored if you would bestow upon me a position to enable me to lead your forces of reconquest into the lands of the Turk. Shall we say Grand Domestic of the East?”
Casca clenched his hands, and looked at Alexius. The sneaky swine was trying to maneuver himself into a command that would put him in charge of the entire imperial army in Asia, Greeks and non-Greeks alike. Casca pleaded with Alexius silently not to let Bohemond have that.
Alexius caught Casca’s look, and stroked his beard. “I shall certainly consider such a request, but I’m sure you will appreciate the delicacy of the situation between all the noble leaders of this Crusade, and I have yet to receive Count Raymond who will shortly arrive. Besides, the post of Grand Domestic is, as no doubt you are aware, a very special post in my Empire and I could only grant it to someone who shows great valor and loyalty. Should you demonstrate this to my officers in the field, I shall certainly give it my fullest attention.”
Bohemond bowed once. “And your officers would include Stokeham here?”
“Indeed, amongst others. I trust this is satisfactory?”
Bohemond looked long and hard at Casca once more. “If you trust his judgment, then I have no objection.”
Casca smiled thinly at the Norman.
* * *
Compared to the distrust and antagonism he felt towards Bohemond, the elderly Count Raymond of Toulouse was a breath of fresh air. White-haired, and sporting lined features, he carried with him an air of authority and correctness that spoke of decades of being used to giving commands and having them obeyed.
Casca immediately took to the elderly Count and the two spent a few evenings in the house that had been assigned to Raymond outside the walls talking of Provence, the people there, the land, the history and Raymond’s hopes for the future. He had decided to remain in the Holy Land, but also believed he was to take command of the entire venture, since he saw himself as the senior ranked noble.
His army though was less honorable and both received news the morning Raymond was to go to see Alexius that after it had begun to rampage through the lands of the Empire, the imperial forces had cornered them and inflicted a severe defeat on them, and had taken the baggage and supplies. Raymond’s army was being herded into a small area and would be escorted under arms towards Constantinople.
Raymond was not pleased and confronted Casca. “Is this how you greet guests and visitors?”
“Sir, as you heard from the report, your men attacked defenseless villages and towns. What else was there to do but to bring them under heel to prevent the deaths of more innocents?”
Raymond slapped the report against his thigh in irritation. “This is not what we came here for, General! I must speak of this to the Emperor.”
Casca nodded. “Then let’s go. I know he’s eager to see you.”
They arrived at the palace and were quickly shown not to the throne room, but to another chamber, one with twin rows of stone pillars that supported an immense roof, and contained a long stout oaken table. Casca had been here before. It was a council chamber and Alexius and other emperors in the past had used it for council-of-wars and other important meetings. It seemed now was such a meeting, and Casca was allowed to sit at the end, the furthest from Alexius. Opposite him was Tatikus, the renegade Turk. Apart from these two and the Emperor, the rest were the leaders of the various Crusader armies.
“Thank you for coming to this council of war,” Alexius began, both hands on the table, set wide apart. He looked at each and every one of those present in turn as he spoke. “We stand on the brink of a unique opportunity to regain from the Turk that land which they have taken from the Empire over the past twenty years, lands that have been Christian since the establishment of this very city as the new capital of the Roman Empire.
“I am deeply honored that all you brave and noble men have volunteered to travel great distances and endured many hardships with your courageous men to wrest the Holy City of Jerusalem from the hands of the Turk.”
“Some of the hardships have been inflicted by your men, Sire,” Raymond said, standing up, his face stern. His hands were clenching and unclenching.
“That is true, regretfully,” Alexius nodded. “Please understand that we are a Christian people and to be subjected to plunder and rape by any army would be met by severe reprisals. It was only due to self-protection that my regiments were forced to attack your armies. Once the disorder had ceased my men withdrew from combat; was this not true?”
Raymond slapped the tabletop. “I do not know, since I was only informed this morning of the battle against my army.”
“I shall arrange for your men to be fe
d, resupplied and escorted to Constantinople where you will be reunited with them, and you can then see for yourself, my good Count. We only wish you God speed on your way and are more than prepared to feed your men and supply them. In return for our assistance and intelligence for the route ahead, you have all agreed to hand over those towns and cities you take from the Turk that we have lost in the past twenty years.”
“I have not,” Raymond said, sitting down, looking at his fellow Crusaders. “What you ask from me I cannot swear.”
Alexius looked troubled. “Why is that, Count Raymond?”
Raymond spread his hands wide. “This Crusade was called by the Holy Pope, Urban, and it is under the Cross that we march and fight. We are subject to nobody except God, so regretfully I cannot swear an Oath of Allegiance to anyone on Earth.”
The Emperor leaned back, his eyes hard as flint. “If you do not swear an Oath, Count Raymond, I cannot extend my assistance to you or your men. I cannot use up supplies and men for nothing in return.”
The other Crusaders glared at Raymond. “What you are concerned with, Toulouse, is that you believe you should be leader of this expedition!” Bohemond snapped.
“And isn’t that your aim, Norman?” Raymond answered in kind. “We know all about you and your people. This Crusade is nothing but a cloak disguising your aims for conquest and plunder. You should seek to work for God, rather than your personal gains.”
“Enough!” Alexius thumped the table. “Count Raymond, all these leaders here have sworn an Oath and they have immediately seen the benefits. The Empire’s resources are at their disposal.”
“I shall serve under you, Sire,” Raymond nodded to Alexius, “should you personally lead this Crusade.”
“Alas I am unable to do that, since the Empire requires my fullest attention at this time. This is why I have appointed those two Strategos at the end of the table to come along in my stead.”
All eyes now turned to Casca and Tatikus. “They have no noble standing,” Godfrey observed.