Soldier of Crusade

by Jack Ludlow

  ‘My Lords, does it matter who does God’s work?’

  ‘Attack the walls, Baldwin,’ Bohemund spat, ‘but do let my Lord of Normandy and I know if you need help in making the ladders.’

  ‘Damn you—’

  ‘Baldwin!’ No one had ever heard Adémar raise his voice to a shout; that he did so now shocked the man he had called into silence.

  ‘Apologise to all for your blasphemy.’

  It took several seconds and was mumbled, but Adémar got what he required. As soon as Baldwin had left, the Bishop took some time and much circumlocution in reminding those left behind of the need for harmony and to guard against the sin of pride; it was Raymond who underlined the only way that could be achieved.

  ‘Then you have two choices, My Lord Bishop. Still Baldwin’s tongue or pray that by some miracle his brother recovers before this council meets again, for I tell you if he insults me in the way he did our Norman brothers I will not let it pass without recourse to arms.’

  ‘That you cannot demand of him,’ Vermandois said.

  ‘While,’ Raymond growled, ‘Count Hugh would be as well to adopt in this pavilion the same degree of assistance to our cause he employs elsewhere.’

  Vermandois looked as if he had been slapped and he had been so, metaphorically; his nostrils flared and he looked set to issue a challenge, but if it was on his lips it stayed there, while everyone else present suffered a degree of awkwardness and Walo, at his side as usual, put a retaining hand on his arm. To say he was shy was an exaggeration, but he was not one to be to the fore when battle joined and had conspicuously never sought to act alone and in advance, much to the annoyance of the men he led.

  The knights of France could stand comparison with anyone in the host, but they did not look to him as a leader of men and nothing showed that more than the looks he got from those he had brought to Asia Minor. To a man, it was assumed, they would have preferred to be led by his far more capable, if somewhat irreligious, brother.

  ‘It would be churlish to leave Baldwin to assault Heraclea on his own,’ he hissed, ‘and I know he will welcome my aid.’

  When he had gone, the look Adémar gave the three remaining senior members of his council was telling. Sad, for if concord had been hard to achieve, it seemed it was going to be impossible to maintain, especially with Baldwin representing Lorraine. It did not help that Tacitus, obviously apprised of what was going on, made no attempt to stifle his chuckling and that got him a clerical glare.

  ‘I will go to Duke Godfrey and pray with him that his recovery is speedy.’

  The assault was launched late in the afternoon and carried on until the light faded. That it was not completely successful did not dispirit those who had climbed and fought on the hastily thrown together ladders, for they had done great damage, claiming to have killed more than they lost. This indicated the defenders lacked confidence and another assault was planned for the next day in which they would open onslaughts at several points where the walls were in disrepair, all contingents participating, this insisted upon by Adémar to avoid another confrontation.

  Baldwin was full of himself, boasting of his own exploits and never once pausing to praise his brother’s knights, so it was no surprise that the only person listening was Vermandois – none of the others could stand it – and even he became bored, or was it annoyed that the participation of the French, who had attacked as a second wave and enjoyed equal success, was not acknowledged?

  Preparations were made overnight, ladders strung together, weapons once more sharpened and everyone stood to for a dawn attack. When the sun rose it was to light up a delegation of leading citizens come to discuss how Heraclea should be occupied; overnight the garrison had decamped and fled east.

  Tacitus was quick to step forward and claim Heraclea for Alexius and for once, when Baldwin objected, he got some sympathy from the rest of the Crusade leaders, though they suspected with Godfrey making a steady if slow recovery he hankered after the town himself as a personal fief. The Byzantines had done nothing here and would have done nothing at Iconium if it had shown resistance, while Tacitus had, since Dorylaeum, been ignored when it came to tactics or movement.

  Yet nothing could be done to gainsay his actions; the next major goal was Antioch and to take that would require military help from Alexius – supplies shipped by sea and a force of fighting men put there by whatever method he chose. To offend him was to jeopardise that assistance; no one had to be reminded of such a need, nor that, just like Nicaea, a stronghold like Antioch could not be bypassed and left in Turkish hands, so many a tongue was stilled and irritation suppressed.

  The next dilemma to surface was what route to take? This time it was not fear of starvation or thirst that preyed on the minds of the gathering, but the constraints of two high passes on the direct route, the Cilician Gates, through which Alexander the Great had passed, and beyond Tarsus, the Belen Pass. To thread such a host through these defiles would take no less than a week and would present the Turks, should they be able to regroup, with a target too tempting to ignore and one that would require minimal force – both passes could be blocked by the enemy while forcing a passage might be costly.

  Mention of Alexander had Tacitus speak for once, to remind the Crusaders that history related that he had led a small, compact army and no tail of pilgrims. If food and water were plentiful on either side of the Cilician Gates the former was not in the pass itself; indeed, what little information he possessed indicated nothing but a track surrounded by rock, added to which they might again come upon an area that had been sown with salt by the Turks, so supplies enough to keep everyone fed would have to be taken through as well, which increased the risks.

  The other possible route took the host east through a long, wide and lush basin between two mountain ranges that led to Caesarea where it was possible that Alexius, informed of their route, might join them. Regardless of easy forage, moving east would also drive back the Turks. From Caesarea the route to Antioch was through the lands of the Christian Armenians, who had no love for their Turkish overlords, and treaties could be made that would protect the rear of the Crusade and give ample warning of any approaching threat.

  Raymond, while agreeing to the basic notion, had one point that needed to be made.

  ‘It would be of benefit to send an expedition to secure the passes on the shortest road. We do not know, when Alexius comes, what route he will take – perhaps through Caesarea – but he, if he knows they are secure, might elect for the sake of speed to pass through the Cilician Gates.’

  ‘To know what the Turks have planned would also aid us,’ Robert of Normandy suggested. ‘Do they intend to do battle with us before we get close to Antioch or is their strategy to hold that and deny us any progress?’

  ‘Then we should split the host again,’ opined Baldwin, his manner, as usual, making it sound like a demand not an option.

  ‘No!’ Adémar was emphatic; indeed he had shown more inclination to be so since the man he had just denied had so nearly caused outright dissension. ‘As a host complete the Turks fear us.’

  ‘You know that, Bishop Adémar?’

  ‘If I lack your military knowledge I do not lack for common sense. If they do not fear us why have they kept their distance?’

  ‘We must not separate again,’ insisted Bohemund. ‘If we won at Dorylaeum, it was a battle that could have been lost. Yet I take my Lord of Toulouse’s point—’

  Baldwin, interrupting, was loud in his scoffing condemnation, and the arch look of wonder that went with it was to imply he had just heard from a dolt. ‘How in the name of the Lord Almighty are we to achieve it if we do not separate?’

  ‘It is a courtesy we extend to each other to let every member of the council speak without interruption.’

  If Adémar’s check hit home, Baldwin did a good job of disguising it; his shrug was elaborate as Bohemund continued. ‘A small force, pushed through the passes to ensure they are clear, which once south of them should
ensure they stay that way, would be a sound move.’

  The alteration in Baldwin’s demeanour was so swift it was risible: his face lost its normal confrontational expression to be replaced by one that displayed wonder; he was also smiling, which was rare, almost as much as the words that followed.

  ‘I agree and I put myself forward to lead it.’

  Amongst men who were acquisitive by nature it did not take long to understand why Baldwin was so eager. Tacitus and his Byzantines would march with the main host, so any knight in an independent role might have a chance to grab a great deal of booty that in other circumstances would be sequestered for the empire, and no doubt it occurred to some of the magnates to put their name forward; only the loss of dignity by being so openly avaricious stopped them.

  ‘It would be best to send men from more than one contingent,’ Robert of Normandy said finally, in a gambit that precluded any loss of face.

  ‘I agree,’ Adémar responded, swiftly, ‘but I would not stand in the way of my Lord of Boulogne.’ He might as well have said it would be good riddance, and to make sure all present understood, he added, in what was probably an error of judgement brought on by frustration, ‘And who knows, when he rejoins it might be to find his brother the Duke whole again.’

  ‘Then,’ Robert added, ‘since none of we actual leaders can separate, let Tancred be given joint command.’

  ‘Not joint,’ Bohemund cut in, causing Baldwin to suck lemons again. ‘Let them lead their own contingents, Tancred his own Apulian knights, and Baldwin whosoever he chooses, but in numbers agreed.’

  That was tossed back and forth over some time, Baldwin’s figure of a thousand beaten down to two hundred, with the same number allocated to Tancred. All would be mounted – the aim was to move fast and avoid battle against foes, superior or not. Times were discussed and, notwithstanding they might be wildly out, it was agreed a date they would meet up on the road to Antioch, Baldwin and Tancred tasked to reconnoitre the famous old city and report the state of the defences.

  ‘You guessed why Baldwin was so eager?’ Bohemund asked, when he and his nephew were alone.

  ‘Only a fool would not; but I am bound to ask, if Duke Robert had not put forward my name, would you?’

  ‘Yes, but it had more weight coming from him. How would it have looked if I had made the suggestion?’

  ‘Like you were favouring your own.’ The younger man took a deep breath before he posed his next question. ‘Am I free to act for myself?’

  ‘You would be a dolt not to. Baldwin is scarcely charging off to aid the Crusade but to line his own purse.’

  ‘And perhaps take possession of any towns he can capture?’

  ‘That too.’ That got a hand on the shoulder. ‘I had always intended one day to let you seek for yourself. If it has come sooner than anticipated the time has arrived. Ride out in the morning with your lances …’

  ‘And some of your own.’

  ‘They esteem you as much as do I, Tancred, and would chafe to stay with the main body. But I was about to say that you are free to do as you wish and to take for yourself anything that presents itself. If it disturbs you to grab land and plunder while on Crusade, do not let it trouble your mind, for there is not a noble knight on the council who does not harbour the same thought.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Unlike them I have not pledged my lands to fund this adventure, but Godfrey de Bouillon sold most of his to the Church, and Robert of Normandy pledged his duchy to his brother for a huge sum of money. Why?’

  ‘Robert I do not know, but Godfrey is pious.’

  ‘De Bouillon is more so than I, that I will grant you, and I have enough of an opinion of him, for I think him an honest man, to believe he will ask for what he wants rather than take it. He is a true Crusader.’

  ‘Not a trait shared by all the family.’

  ‘Have I said enough?’ Bohemund asked, to get a nod in response. ‘I have a gift for you.’

  That got a raised eyebrow from his nephew, which was not assuaged when Bohemund called out and a dark-skinned fellow entered and bowed.

  ‘This is Anastas and I found him in Heraclea. He is an Armenian Christian as well as a trader and he knows the route to Antioch well. I questioned him closely and he has knowledge of the fastest and safest shortcuts. It may be that with his help you can get ahead of Baldwin and secure anything worthwhile before he arrives.’

  They rode out the next day, after a Mass to bless their endeavour, on the best horses that the host could provide, animals that had been fattened on the ample pasture of the lands around Heraclea, able to cover the standard cavalry distance, including walking, resting and watering their mounts, of ten leagues a day. For Tancred it was sheer joy; much as he loved his uncle, to be in a position of independent command, to never have to ask if any act he desired to undertake was approved or not, was something he had craved for ever since he had been Bohemund’s squire. For his cousin of Salerno it promised as much; Tancred trusted him more than did Bohemund, and for the knights they led, the prospect of plunder was enough.

  It was dawn on the next day when it emerged that another two hundred Lotharingian knights had departed the host, no doubt to join Baldwin, which prompted Robert to suggest to his fellow Norman that Bohemund might consider reinforcing Tancred, given that those men, in such a number, would not have departed had it not been prearranged.

  ‘It would not be wise, Bohemund, to place any faith in Baldwin’s intentions.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Anastas proved his worth before they ever got to the Cilician Gates; he knew a route from Heraclea that cut out a great arc in what had been the old Roman road, with ample supplies of both water and pasture, not that Tancred availed himself of too much of either; he had to assume that Baldwin would not tarry so nor could he, but he was reassured when passing through the high and cool trail that traversed the Gates that he was ahead of his rival, for no one passing in the other direction had seen a mounted host.

  Two days of hard riding brought the Normans into Armenia and the ancient city of Tarsus and, from a nearby hill, the sight was arresting for here was a city as solid in its historic glory as anything these Apulian Normans had seen in Italy, a major trading centre of antiquity with the classical architecture that such places could boast; temples erected to the Greek Pantheon of Gods, arches and columns raised during Roman times as well as the ubiquitous amiphitheatre and baths.

  Less encouraging were the stout walls and several towering minarets that spoke of a strong Turkish presence, which posed a problem for such a small force as to how to capture it. Beside a small river where their horses were now grazing, they donned their chain mail to indicate they were planning an instant assault.

  As if determined to drive home the message that he was not anxious, the Turkish commander led his mounted archers out to engage in immediate battle, which if it surprised the Normans did not send them running, it not being a large force, nor one with an excess of discipline. Tancred’s men formed their line with the speed for which they were noted and the Turks found themselves counter-charged by a formidable wall of close-linked lances, which confounded them and broke up what little formation they had.

  Arrows inflicted more wounds on animals than mailed men, so near impervious they went through the Turks and scattered them so comprehensively that their leader called an immediate retreat and fled back through the main gate, which they managed to shut behind them before their enemy could get through.

  ‘Which does not serve us as well as it might, cousin,’ Robert of Salerno gasped as he and Tancred trotted out of range of the well-positioned archers; the point was obvious – they were still on the outside.

  ‘Let us set up camp and put our minds to some idea of how we might overcome that.’

  Robert laughed. ‘How long does it take to build a Trojan horse?’

  ‘The garrison is small, a few hundred perhaps, and the population of the city is Armenian and Christian, so whoever command
s cannot count on help from the populace. We will light double the fires we need after dark. Let them think we will be stronger on the morrow than they have seen today. If they think the whole host is coming to Tarsus, it may make them think of escape more than resistance. Meanwhile, let us throw a cordon around the walls while I seek, with our guide Anastas, to sow fear into their hearts.’

  Throughout the rest of the day, Tancred rode round the walls in the company of his guide, who told the Turks in their own tongue of what was coming their way, a mighty host so large they would not see the tail from their highest minaret by the time thousands of knights were encamped around their walls, led by men who would not stand to be held up by so puny a city. There would be no mercy – it would be a painful death or Christianity for them all – and he gave good reason why, recounting in gruesome detail how their fellows had treated the pilgrims of the People’s Crusade.

  ‘They had sense at Heraclea,’ Ansatas called, for the tenth time. ‘They knew what fate held in store and took to their heels in darkness, which My Lord Tancred might, if he feels merciful, allow.’

  Tancred’s task was to glower and wave his sword, which he did well and frequently.

  ‘Look upon him, look at the length of those legs, the build of the upper body and the reach of his sword arm. Think on this as you try to sleep: can you fight a man of such size? And yet he is but a dwarf to those who follow so close on our heels and whose banners you will soon see on the horizon.’

  If the Turks tossed and turned there was little sleep for the Normans that night; over the hours of darkness the number of lit fires had to be increased, but not all at once – it had to appear as if reinforcements were arriving piecemeal and setting up camp, foreign devils who did not fear to march in the night. Others, including Tancred and Robert of Salerno, were out in the groves that surrounded the city, their task to keep silent watch and see how many people fled Tarsus, for if the fighting men did not, the non-combatant Turks would.