God's Warrior

by Hilary Green

  Edgar fell to his knees and offered up a prayer of thanksgiving and a resounding ‘amen’ rose from the throats of all the crew.

  ‘We owe you our lives,’ he said, rising and laying his hand on Ranulph’s shoulder. ‘But where are we?’

  Ranulph pushed the wet hair out of his eyes and grinned. ‘Exactly where we should be, if my memory is correct. This is St Simeon, the port of Antioch.’

  ‘Then God has truly guided our ship. He must have sent you to me for that purpose.’ He looked behind him to the open sea. ‘But I fear the other three ships have not been so fortunate.’

  ‘Let’s not despair yet,’ Ranulph said. ‘They may have found safe haven somewhere else, to ride out the storm.’

  The Franks had secured the port of St Simeon before beginning the siege of Antioch and by the time the English ship had tied up to the quay the commander of the garrison had ridden down from the citadel to enquire their origin and purpose. Ranulph explained and introduced Edgar.

  ‘You are more than welcome,’ the commander said when Edgar told him what cargo they carried. ‘The men at Antioch are in dire need of the supplies you bring, but,’ his expression darkened, ‘whether we shall be able to get them there is a different question. The Turks watch the road and seize any goods that might be heading for our people.’

  ‘Then we must send to Lord Bohemond for an escort,’ Ranulph said. ‘He has routed the Turks more than once and will do it again when he knows what we are bringing.’

  ‘That is so, indeed,’ the commander replied. ‘The difficulty lies in getting a message to him. The last three men I sent were turned back and their severed heads hurled over our walls. I have only a small force here and I dare not deplete them by sending more men to their deaths.’

  ‘Then I will go,’ Ranulph said. ‘Will they trouble themselves with a lone pilgrim, as I shall make myself appear?’

  ‘Possibly not,’ the commander replied, ‘but I cannot be sure of that.’

  ‘They might be less likely to notice us if we travelled by night,’ Edgar said.

  Ranulph looked at him sharply. ‘We?’

  ‘I will come with you. I have long wanted to meet the men fighting this Holy War. This is my chance.’

  ‘You could wait here until I return with Bohemond,’ Ranulph said. ‘Someone will be needed to organise the off-loading of the cargo and re-loading it onto wagons.’

  ‘My first mate is quite capable of that,’ Edgar said. ‘No more argument. I am coming with you.’ He turned to the commander. ‘Can you arrange for my men to be fed and given a place to sleep?’

  ‘Certainly,’ the Frank answered. ‘And in the morning I will find suitable transport and arrange for men to help with the transfer of your goods.’

  A shout from one of the sailors interrupted their conversation. Looking round they saw that he was pointing back towards the mouth of the river.

  ‘Heaven be praised!’ Edgar exclaimed. ‘At least one of the other ships has survived.’

  They watched as the second vessel limped into the harbour. Its sail was in tatters and they could see that the sailors were frantically bailing out the sea water to keep it afloat.

  ‘Pray God it reaches the quay before it sinks,’ Ranulph murmured.

  His prayer was answered and the battered ship finally came to rest alongside Edgar’s. There was a flurry of greetings and then the Frankish commander took charge, ordering his men to lead the sailors to a place where they could eat and rest.

  ‘And now,’ he continued, ‘if you two gentlemen are determined to travel on tonight, you must dine with me before you set out. We have little enough food left but we are in a better state than the men besieging the city and you are welcome to the best of what we can provide.’

  As soon as it was fully dark, two figures wrapped from chin to ankle in dark cloaks and mounted on mules, set out through the city gates. The storm had blown itself out and a crescent moon showed itself briefly between scudding clouds, giving just enough light for them to see the road ahead. It was a nervous ride, where every shadow might conceal an assailant; but it seemed that the Turks could not believe that anyone would set out on a journey on such a night and had withdrawn to the comfort of their castle. The first challenge they heard was from a sentry guarding the approach to the Frankish camp. Ranulph threw back his hood and the man recognised him and waved them through. Soon after, they dismounted outside Bohemond’s tent.

  ‘What do you want?’ one of the men guarding it demanded. ‘The count is sleeping. Whatever it is, you will have to wait until morning.’

  Ranulph approached him and thrust his face forwards. ‘Do you not know me?’

  ‘Sir Ranulph! We thought you had gone to Constantinople.’

  ‘Well, I’m back, and I have news for my lord Bohemond that he will want to hear. So go and wake him.’

  The guards looked at each other unhappily. Neither of them wanted to be the butt of Bohemond’s fury at being woken, but after a brief hesitation one pushed back the tent flap and went inside. Ranulph and Edgar heard the low murmur of voices and then a shout of rage and the guard reappeared in a hurry.

  ‘You’re to go in.’

  Bohemond was on his feet, wrapped in his cloak. ‘Ranulph? You are back already! What news do you bring? And who is your companion?’

  ‘Good news, my lord.’ Ranuph knelt to kiss the his hand, then, rising, went on,, ‘This, sire, is Lord Edgar Aethling, the rightful King of England.’

  ‘It is a title I abjured many years ago,’ Edgar said hastily. ‘I am honoured to meet a warrior whose reputation all Christendom recognises.’

  ‘Edgar Aethling?’ Bohemond thrust out his hand. ‘Welcome. We are always glad to receive a valiant knight into our company.’

  ‘I bring more than myself to your aid,’ Edgar said. ‘At the port of St Simeon lie ships loaded with food for your army and timber to build siege engines. They would not be there, for a storm would have sunk us all, but for Sir Ranulph’s knowledge of the seas around this coast.’

  ‘Supplies!’ Bohemond exclaimed. ‘Then you are thrice welcome.’

  ‘But you are needed with as many knights as you can muster to escort the wagons from the port to here, otherwise the Turks will have all that is intended for your use,’ Ranulph put in.

  Bohemond nodded. ‘I know that. We shall ride at first light. But how have you two come here at this time of night?’

  ‘We thought it the only way to reach you with the information,’ Ranulph said. ‘It was our hope that the Turks would ignore two poor pilgrims, and so it proved.’

  Bohemond looked from one to another. ‘There is much to be told of your adventures, I can see. But that can wait. You need to rest if you are to ride with us in the morning. Know that I am grateful to you both. Sir Edgar, there is a bed here for you, if you would care to use it.’ He turned away, then looked back. ‘Ranulph? You say this man is the rightful king of England. Do you believe that your fealty must henceforward be to him?’

  ‘I require no man’s fealty,’ Edgar said quickly.

  ‘I swore to you, my lord,’ Ranulph responded. ‘I will not renege on my oath.’

  ‘Good!’ Bohemond slapped him on the shoulder. ‘I am glad of your loyalty. Go now and rest.’

  Ranulph wished them both goodnight and headed for his own tent. To his relief he found Marc and Aymar and Dino fast asleep, apparently still untouched by wounds or pestilence. He longed to wake them and see the welcome in their eyes, but he told himself it would not be kind. So he lay down fully dressed on his own bed and tried to rest, although he knew that the likelihood of sleep was remote. Too much had happened in the last few days, and too much still needed to be done.

  As soon as it was light Ranulph woke his companions and was warmed by their delight and relief at his safe return. Over a meagre breakfast of thin porridge made with goat’s milk he related the story of his adventures, to exclamations of first anger and then amazement.

  Finishing his porridge he h
anded the bowl to Fernando with thanks. ‘I see you have managed to keep the goat alive.’

  ‘It’s not keeping her alive that’s the problem,’ the cook replied, ‘It’s keeping the thieving hands of the others off her. I take her into my tent at night, but even there I’ve been woken twice by men creeping in the steal her. And once one of Lord Tancred’s men tried to take her off me at sword point. He would have had her, too, if Sir Marc and another knight hadn’t been within earshot.’

  ‘Tancred again!’ Ranulph growled. ‘Does that man have no shame?’

  ‘He’s not the only one who will stoop to anything to find food,’ Marc said.

  ‘Things are still bad, then?’

  ‘Worse, and deteriorating by the day. Only the richest lords can afford to buy food for their followers. Men are dying by the hundred.’

  ‘Well, please God, we shall be able to relieve the situation once we get the new supplies.’ Ranulph rose. ‘Come, it is time to arm ourselves.’

  He pulled on his hauberk and buckled his sword belt, thankful that he had decided to leave them behind when he set out for Constantinople, knowing that he would not be allowed to wear them in the palace. Reporting for duty at Bohemond’s tent the first person he saw was Tancred, and the other man’s reaction astonished him.

  ‘You!’ He stepped back and turned pale, as if confronted by an evil demon. The discomfiture was temporary and he recovered himself and welcomed Ranulph, congratulating him on his safe return, but it was enough to raise Ranulph’s suspicions. Was it possible, he asked himself, that it was not Stephen who had suborned Tatikios into telling the emperor those lies but Tancred? Had it been Tancred, and not Viviana, who had deliberately attempted to throw suspicion on him and get him arrested? Whatever the truth of it, Tancred had clearly not expected him to return.

  There was no time to speculate further as Bohemond gave the order to mount up. His intention was to set out immediately, but to assemble a sufficient force took longer than anticipated. Numbers had been so depleted that many of the counts were unwilling or unable to send their knights on a dangerous mission. In the end, seven hundred, the sum total of those knights who were fit enough to ride and had horses to carry them, set out and by that time the sun was high. They were within a mile of St Simeon when they heard the unmistakable sounds of battle ahead of them and, rounding a bend, they saw the convoy of wagons a little below them on the road, surrounded as usual by a swarm of Turkish archers. Bohemond at once gave the order to charge and the seven hundred hurtled down the slope and into the midst of the attackers.

  The battle was over sooner than expected. It seemed the Turks had learned that arrows were useless against heavily armed knights, and after a brief skirmish they turned tail and galloped away over the hills at the side of the road.

  Edgar had ridden with them, in borrowed armour, and now turned furiously on the man he had left in charge. ‘What, in God’s name, were you thinking of? You were told to wait until the escort arrived.’

  The man flushed miserably. ‘We thought you and Sir Ranulph had been killed or captured, sire. We waited for several hours and when there was no sign of the escort we decided we had better make the attempt. Forgive me. I did what I thought best.’

  ‘And risked your life doing it,’ Edgar responded more gently. ‘Very well. I understand. At least we arrived in time to save you, and your precious cargo.’

  ‘There is good news, too.’ The man’s face brightened. ‘At dawn today another of our ships made harbour. They sheltered over night in a bay and set sail again as soon as it was light enough to see.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Edgar exclaimed. ‘Then we have most of what we set out to bring. Let us go as fast as possible. We are much needed.’

  The arrival of the new supplies raised spirits amongst the besiegers and with the advent of spring life became a little easier. Edgar declared that his fleet was at their service to bring further supplies as necessary, and also provided skilled carpenters from among his men to assist with building fortifications. Not far from the Bridge Gate there was an abandoned mosque and Raymond gave orders that it should be repaired and fortified, giving his men protection against sallies from within the city and protecting the vital road connecting them with St Simeon. They also restored a ruined monastery close to the St George’s Gate. Tancred had been threatening to withdraw from the siege, saying that he could no longer afford to feed his men; but he was persuaded to stay and garrison the monastery by an offer of four hundred silver marks from Raymond. Meanwhile, work went on to build mangonels and battering rams.

  In the period of relative inactivity that followed Ranulph found himself increasingly ill-at-ease. He took to wandering alone to a vantage point where he could gaze at the city uninterrupted. It was not hard to imagine the conditions for the inhabitants. The stored supplies of food must have been used up long ago and it was too early in the year yet for new crops to be harvested. The only route in and out would be through the narrow mountain pass leading to the Iron Gate. The flow of goods would be reduced to a trickle, much too little to sustain the whole population. He had seen at first hand what starvation could do, and the thought that the innocent citizens of Antioch were now suffering in the same way lay heavily on his conscience. A woman’s face haunted his imagination, first as he remembered it from that summer long ago when she had promised that she would go with him to the ends of the earth, if he returned the following year; then as it must now be, worn with the passing of time and drawn by hunger. He had no way of knowing if she was still alive; no way of getting a message into the city. And even if he could, what could he say? That he was now one of the enemies responsible for starving her and her family to death?

  One day Ranulph was summoned to Raymond’s tent, to act as interpreter to ambassadors who had arrived from the Fatimid rulers of Egypt, who now controlled Jerusalem. The Fatimids had no love for the Seljuk rulers of Antioch and Raymond had sent messengers to al-Afdal, the vizier, requesting help. The ambassadors message was simple. They would help the Christians to retrieve Antioch for Alexios, provided they agreed not to attack the Fatimid possessions in Palestine. Ranulph had to explain, as politely as possible, that such an agreement was impossible since the primary objective of the expedition was the conquest of Jerusalem. The ambassadors accepted the explanation, equally politely, were feasted, and sent on their way with gifts of treasure looted from the Turks.

  Since there was still no sign that the citizens of Antioch were ready to surrender, Raymond of Toulouse called a meeting of the council. There were many leaders who favoured withdrawal, or simply bypassing the city and heading straight for Jerusalem. Raymond rejected this proposal out of hand.

  ‘We are oath sworn to recapture Antioch for the emperor. We must keep our word.’

  Bohemond rose to his feet. ‘Why should we hand over Antioch to Alexios? What has he done for us? He was supposed to accompany us and fight with us. Has he done so?’ There was a chorus of ‘No!’ ‘Has he raised a sword on our behalf, or shed a drop of blood? No! Has he sent us the supplies we have so earnestly begged for? No! Listen to me! I do not believe we should abandon the siege. We have not suffered and died here to creep away like beaten dogs. But when we take the city – and we will take it – it should belong to whoever is the first to raise his banner on the walls.’

  The speech was greeted with uproar. Raymond reiterated his intention of sticking with his oath and handing the city to Alexios. Some backed him, others still shouted that the cause was lost and they should give up; but the majority backed Bohemond. His generalship was admired all through the army and many saw Antioch as his just reward.

  Back in his tent Bohemond paced to and fro like a captured animal. Finally he swung round to where Ranulph waited with some of his other close advisers.

  ‘There has to be a way into the city. Ranulph, you have spent time here. Is there no postern gate, no secret passageway under the walls, no weak point we could attack?’

  Ranulph shook his head reg
retfully. ‘None that I know of, sire.’

  ‘Then there is only one way. We must try a frontal assault.’

  ‘But sire,’ Robert Fitzgerald said, ‘that idea was rejected when we first arrived here on the grounds that it would involve the loss of too many men. That was when we were at full strength. To attempt it now with our shrunken forces would be madness.’

  ‘It is madness to sit here waiting for the Turks to put together a force big enough to annihilate us,’ Bohemond countered. ‘We have fought off two attacks, but one day soon they will all come at us together and then it will be all over for us. The people in the city must be weakened. They must be as starved as we were a month ago. This is the time for an all-out attack.’

  It was useless to argue with him and he soon succeeded in persuading the other leaders to agree. The assault was set for three days hence and meanwhile the mangonels and the battering ram were put to use in the hope of weakening the defences.

  At dawn on the third day Ranulph stood beside Marc with the rest of Bohemond’s knights, waiting for the signal to attack. There would be no cavalry involved this time. Every available man was required to mount the scaling ladders. He shivered in the dawn chill and hoped no one had noticed it. The night before he had made his confession and taken the sacrament, and the priest had assured him that if he were to be killed that day he would immediately be received into the glorious company of martyrs. He tried to take comfort from the thought, but instead found himself asking if all the struggle and privation had been pointless, if he was to die in what he knew would be a fruitless assault.