God's Warrior

by Hilary Green

  Farouz turned his head away. ‘Your Pope is nothing to me.’

  ‘I know that your church does not acknowledge his authority. But as a fellow Christian you must see the rightness of what we are trying to do.’

  Farouz’s lips twisted bitterly. ‘I am no longer a Christian.’

  ‘You have renounced your faith?’ It was Ranulph’s turn to feel disbelief.

  ‘When Yaghi Siyan became emir he gave all the Christians in Antioch a choice – convert or die. I chose to live.’ A dark flush of shame rose in his cheeks. ‘I even submitted to the mutilation which these Muslims inflict on their male children.’

  Ranulph laid his hand on his friend’s arm. ‘What was done under duress means nothing. You are still a Christian in your soul. Surely you must see that what we are attempting is God’s will.’

  ‘Is it God’s will that you should starve women and children to death? The weak and poor are dying every day in the city.’

  ‘As they are among the host camped at you gates,’ Ranulph replied. ‘But that can all be brought to an end, with your help.’

  ‘My help? What can I do?’

  Ranulph took a deep breath. This was the moment poised between success and failure. ‘During the last assault on the walls, I was one of those on the scaling ladders. I looked up and saw you among the defenders. How did that come about?’

  ‘When your army arrived Yaghi Siyan conscripted all able bodied men into the army.’ He gave Ranulph a defiant look. ‘But I was not unwilling. Who would not wish to defend his people? We know what happens to defeated cities – murder, rape, pillage. I could not stand by and let my friends and family suffer that.’

  Ranulph nodded. ‘I understand. But if I could promise you there would be no murder, no rape, no pillage? Would you help us then?’

  ‘How can you promise that?’

  ‘You have heard the news of the fall of Nicaea? The Emperor Alexios was concerned for his people in that city and he made sure that there was no rape or pillage there. Our purpose is to return Antioch to his domain and he will have the same care for you as he had for them. Wouldn’t you rather be under the rule of a merciful Christian emperor than under the heel of Yaghi Siyan?’

  ‘Is Alexios here? I had heard he was not.’

  ‘No, it is true he is not present with the host. But Bohemond, the lord whom I serve, has promised the city to him, and I have his promise that he will care for the citizens as the emperor does. So, will you help?’

  ‘What is it you want me to do?’

  ‘As a soldier, is it not possible for you to find a way to open one of the gates in the dead of night?’

  Farouz shook his head. ‘The gates are guarded day and night by men loyal to Yaghi Siyan.’ He frowned, thinking. ‘But there is a way that might work. At night I have command of one of the towers, the one east of the St Paul’s Gate, where you saw me. I could send the men with me to patrol the wall and when they were out of sight I could lower a ladder so that you and few others could climb up. We could silence the other sentries and then you could attack the men at the gate from behind. They would not be expecting an assault from that side. If the rest of your force was waiting outside you could storm the city almost before the alarm could be raised.’

  Ranulph gripped his arm. ‘It could work! Think, Farouz! In a few days all this suffering could be over and life could go back to normal.’

  He saw an answering spark of excitement in his friend’s eyes. ‘I have good friends among the Christian community – men I would trust with my life. I will tell them to be ready to open the other gates as soon as the attack begins. When shall it be?’

  Ranulph thought. ‘There must be time to prepare and make sure all the leaders know what is happening. It will take a few days. When we are ready I will give you a signal. My lord Bohemond’s banner is blood red. I will have it carried in procession before the walls. When you see that, you will know that the attack will happen that night. I shall be waiting under the walls east of the tower with a small band of men for you to lower the ladder. Is it agreed?’

  ‘Agreed!’ They clasped hands and Ranulph picked up his untouched goblet of wine. ‘Then let us drink to the accomplishment of God’s purpose. We have a watchword among the host. Deus le veult. God wills it.’

  Farouz lifted his goblet in return. ‘Deus le veult!’

  In the euphoria of promised success Ranulph allowed a thought that had been clamouring at the back of his mind to come to the fore. ‘Farouz, can I see Mariam? Will you take me to her?’

  Farouz’s face lost the glow of triumph. He shook his head. ‘No. What good would it be to either of you to open old wounds? She is married and she has children. You can never be together.’

  ‘Then you will not tell her, even, that I am here?’

  ‘She believes you to be dead. To know that you are alive and she cannot come to you would only make her suffer all over again. Can you not see that?’

  Ranulph was silent. Hope and desire, long suppressed, had suddenly resurfaced in his mind, and to have them dashed was a heavy blow. But he knew that what Farouz had said made sense and he must abide by his decision. After a long moment he said, ‘Very well. Let it be so.’ He got to his feet. ‘I must return to my lord and tell him to prepare.’

  They embraced, and Farouz said, ‘When all this is over we shall celebrate and I will entertain you properly.’

  Ranulph looked into his eyes and said sombrely, ‘That too must be as God wills.’

  At the gate the guards showed surprise at his return but Ranulph shrugged bitterly. ‘It seems my old friends have forgotten me. I must seek my fortune elsewhere.’ And they let him pass.

  It was evening by the time Ranulph returned to the camp and went to Bohemond’s tent to report. The big man listened intensely and when Ranulph finished he grabbed him by the shoulders and almost rocked him off his feet in delighted response.

  ‘By the mass! I did a good deed when I took you into my service. Now we have them! There will be rich pickings all round and you shall have your choice of them.’

  Ranulph stepped back with a frown. ‘Sire, you promised me that the town would be spared from looting, as Nicaea was.’

  For an instant Bohemond looked disconcerted. Then he said, ‘The Christian population, assuredly. But the infidels must pay for the trouble they have caused us.’

  Ranulph could not deny the logic of that but it left him uneasy. He was about to speak again when there was the sound of a challenge from one of the sentries outside and a moment later a mud-spattered messenger threw himself at Bohemond’s feet.

  ‘Sire, there is a great army massing to the south. The Sultan of Baghdad has sent his general Kerbogha of Mosul to relieve the siege.’

  ‘How great?’ Bohemond demanded.

  ‘Many thousands, sire. The spies believe it could be as many as forty thousand men.’

  ‘How near? How long before they reach us?’

  ‘It could be less than seven days.’

  ‘Seven days? Have the other leaders heard of this?’

  ‘Not yet, my lord.’

  Bohemond began to pace the tent, his fists clenching and unclenching as he strove to assess the situation. Then he swung round. ‘Very well. You can go. Get some food and rest. You have done well to bring the news first to me.’ When the messenger had backed out of the tent he turned to Ranulph. ‘Go to all the other counts. Tell them of this new danger and say that I am calling a meeting of the council for tomorrow morning. But say nothing of this plan you have made with Firouz. You hear me? I charge you on your oath to me to keep silent about that. Come back to me when you have done that. I shall have further need of you.’

  Ranulph delivered the message and returned as he had been bidden. After his interview with Firouz and the tortuous return journey through the mountains he was weary to the point of exhaustion, but Bohemond was in no mood to take account of that.

  ‘Take pen and ink and write for me,’ he demanded.

  The
tent was empty apart from the two of them. It seemed Bohemond had even dismissed his squire and his pages. There was a table in one corner with writing materials, but Bohemond had his own scribes and did not normally rely on Ranulph. Puzzled, he sat down and prepared to write. It was not long before he understood that his lord’s mind was working with its typical cunning.

  The council met as ordered the next morning. The news of Kerbogha’s advance had stirred up the usual hornet’s nest of argument and counter-argument but Bohemond over-rode the hubbub. He had a powerful voice that could be heard above the noise of battle and he used it now to good advantage.

  ‘My lords, we are in mortal danger. It is imperative that when Kerbogha’s army arrives they find us inside the walls of the city, not camped out here.’ There was a shout of derisive agreement at this but he ignored it. ‘I believe I have found a way at last to gain access’. That quieted the noise. ‘But before I reveal what I plan, there are two things I require of you all. First, that we should all take an oath that we will not leave the field until Antioch is ours. Secondly, that we agree that whoever is first to breach the walls and raise his banner should be the master of the city.’

  This caused uproar, until Raymond of Toulouse rose to speak. ‘That is something we cannot promise. We have sworn to return Antioch to the rule of Alexios. We cannot break our oaths.’

  ‘Why not?’ Bohemond demanded. ‘I have said this before. Alexios has broken his oath to us. He has neither sent troops nor come himself to our aid. He has even neglected to send us supplies. But now I have more cogent reasons to believe that he will not help us. Ranulph, tell the lords what happened on your recent visit to Constantinople.’

  Ranulph had joined the council in his usual role as interpreter, but he had not expected to be called upon to speak on his own account. He rose to his feet and told, as briefly as possible, what he had learned from Anna Comnena and what he had suffered as a result. Even as he spoke, he wondered if the lie had after all been concocted by Bohemond himself and the count’s next words reinforced his suspicion.

  ‘You see, my lords, that the emperor now believes that we have lost faith in him, to the extent that we have plotted his death. We can expect no further aid from him, which is why I say we no longer owe him any fealty. Therefore, let us make the best plans we can for our survival. If you will sign this paper, agreeing that whoever is first over the walls shall possess the city for himself, I will show you how we may do it.’

  He sat down and let the arguments flow over his head, until Raymond rose again. ‘Very well. I will agree this far. Whoever is first into the city shall rule it until such time as the emperor may come to claim it for himself. Further than that I cannot go.’

  It was enough, apparently, to satisfy Bohemond. Once the signatures had been gathered he explained the plot Ranulph had hatched with Firouz – though, Ranulph noticed wryly, without mentioning who had been instrumental in arranging it, By the time the meeting broke up plans had been agreed and the attempt was set for the following night. Next morning, in accordance with Ranulph’s arrangement with Firouz, Bohemond’s blood red banner was paraded in front of the city walls.

  Ranulph crouched in the darkness at the foot of the wall, close to the tower where he had seen Farouz. Behind him Marc, with a small company of carefully selected men, waited in tense silence. Earlier that day Robert of Flanders and Godfrey of Bouillon and several other leaders had ordered their men to strike their tents and prepare to leave, and a good half of the besieging force had wound its way out of sight along the road leading northwards. If the plan had worked they would now be massed in the shadows close to the Gate of St. George, having returned under cover of night. Raymond’s troops would have gathered outside the Bridge Gate and Bohemond would be waiting by a small postern door close to the tower.

  The minutes passed and became hours and Ranulph began to fear that Firouz had thought better of their agreement. Then, with a rattle and slither, a ladder of ox-hide ropes was unrolled and dropped to within a few feet of where they were hiding. Ranulph seized the end of it and tugged and, peering up, saw Farouz looking down at him. The other men were already crowding behind him as he began to climb.

  Without warning the ladder gave way under the weight of too many bodies and Ranulph found himself pitched to the ground once again. This time he fell on top of several others and they all picked themselves up, bruised but otherwise unhurt. The ladder, however, now lay in a heap at their feet. Ranulph raised a hand to enjoin silence and they all listened tensely. That night the wind had risen and was soughing and whistling around the towers. It seemed that it had covered the noise of their fall and there was no sign of alarm from the walls above. Ranulph gathered up the ladder. One ox hide rope had parted about half way down.

  ‘We can repair it,’ Marc whispered.

  ‘But then how do we get it back to the top of the tower?’ Ranulph asked.

  There was a low whistle from above and a rope was lowered. Cold-numbed fingers wrestled with the ox hide and succeeded in knotting it securely. Ranulph tied the top of the ladder to the rope and it was hauled up again. He waited until Farouz had had time to secure it and then tugged again and felt an answering pull.

  ‘One at a time, this time!’ he whispered to his followers.

  He climbed and felt Farouz’s hand grasp his own to help him over the battlements. One by one the others joined him.

  Farouz looked round the group and peered over the wall.

  ‘So few?’ he whispered. ‘Why?’

  ‘Enough for what we need,’ Ranulph assured him. ‘Where are the sentries?’

  Farouz indicated right and left along the walls. ‘Two in each of the towers. The one who was on watch with me in this one I have already dealt with.’ He indicated a horn hanging from his belt. ‘My friends are standing ready. One blast from this will tell them that the plan has worked and they will attack the men guarding the other gates.’

  Ranulph clapped him on the shoulder and turned to his followers. ‘You two that way; you two the other. You know what to do. The others follow me. Which way to the gate, Farouz?’

  Farouz led them down a spiral staircase. At the bottom a single man stood on watch, his back towards them. Ranulph stepped silently forward, crooked his arm round his neck and jerked. The man sagged against him, a dead weight, and Ranulph lowered him quietly to the ground. He moved out into the small courtyard behind the gate, keeping to the deep shadow under the wall. A brazier glowed in the centre and four figures stood hunched around it. Ranulph sent up a brief prayer of thanks for the cold wind and glanced back to the top of the wall. There was no sound of alarm. The sentries in the towers had been silenced, and as he waited his other followers came soft-footed down the stairs. Ranulph beckoned them to him and whispered his orders.

  ‘Marc and Geoffrey, be ready to open the gate. I’ll take the man in the middle, you Alain the one of the right, Pierre the one on the left, Georges the man nearest the gate. Ready? Go!’

  A few swift strides brought them within striking distance. Four men died without seeing their attackers.

  ‘Sound your horn, Farouz!’ Ranulph ordered and three clear notes rang out over the sleeping city. Marc and Geoffrey heaved up the bar that held the gate and pulled it open and Bohemond and his knights surged through. Horses’ hooves and mailed boots rang on the cobbles and suddenly there was chaos. In the pitch dark doors were flung open and slammed shut again. A company of Turks appeared from somewhere, wild-eyed and only half armed. The clash of weapons and the shouts of men filled the air and above the noise rose a triumphant chant. ‘Deus le veult! Deus le veult!’

  It was when the screaming started, the high pitched screams of women and the howls of children, punctuated by the splintering of wood as doors were burst open, that Ranulph suddenly understood what he had unleashed. Farouz seized his arm.

  ‘What are they doing?You promised no looting! Stop them! Stop them!’

  Ranulph stepped into the oncoming tide of men, rais
ing his arms and shouting for them to stop and listen, but they thrust him aside and ran on, swords at the ready, faces alight with blood lust. He looked around for Bohemond but he was already out of sight. In desperation he cast about for some way of reaching him. He was unmounted. Brand had been left in the safety of the camp. A sergeant in Bohemond’s army rode through the gate and Ranulph leaped to catch his bridle.

  ‘Dismount! Give me your horse.’

  When the man hesitated he seized him by the arm dragged him bodily to the ground, then swung himself into the saddle and set his spurs to the horse’s side. They galloped upwards through the streets, the horse’s shoes striking sparks from the cobbles, and men jumped for their lives to clear their path. One of two attempted to catch the reins, thinking perhaps that the horse had bolted, but Ranulph swung at them with his sword, careless of whether they were friend or foe. The defenders, roused from their beds, were fighting back in small groups and fierce battles were raging on every street corner, while men and women ran frantically from house to house seeking shelter. In the darkness it was impossible to tell whether they were Christians, Muslims, or from one of the other creeds and races that lived and worked in the city. Already there were bodies in the street and the horse spooked and snorted at the smell of blood. Crossing one of the main thoroughfares Ranulph found his way blocked as the army of Raymond of Toulouse stormed along it from the Bridge Gate. Yelling wildly he forced the horse into the throng and out the other side, following the line of the city walls.

  At last he saw what he was searching for. The blood red banner of Bohemond was being carried along the top of the wall towards the citadel at the highest point. At the bottom of a flight of steps he abandoned the horse and raced up a winding staircase to gain the battlements. Bohemond was ahead of him with a contingent of his closest followers. Ranulph forced his way through them and, ignoring protocol, seized him by the arm.