God's Warrior

by Hilary Green

  ‘Have patience,’ Ranulph said. ‘Dino will be here shortly.’

  Tancred closed his eyes and seemed to drift off to sleep again, so Ranulph seated himself at the mouth of the cave, where he could watch the road for his page’s return. The sun was low in the sky before he saw the cloud of dust that signified a rider heading his way. Very quickly he realised that it was too much for one horseman and regretted that he had shed his armour, but there was no time now to put it on. All he could do was dodge back into the cave and grab his sword. The riders came closer and he drew a breath of relief as he recognised the blazon on Marc’s shield. Dino was with him, and two men-at-arms from Godfrey’s retinue.

  ‘Thank the Lord!’ Ranulph exclaimed as they drew rein. ‘I was afraid when I saw the dust that you were some of Iftikhar’s men.’

  ‘You didn’t think we’d let Dino ride back unescorted, did you?’ Marc asked. ‘How’s your patient?’

  ‘Sleeping,’ Ranulph said. He gripped his friend’s shoulder briefly. ‘Thank you for coming.’

  ‘Here is your casket of herbs, sir.’

  Dino extracted it from a bag he had slung round his shoulders and Ranulph took it eagerly. He had been able to restock it from Ibn Butlan’s store before they left Antioch, but already it was running low. Word had spread around the army that Ranulph could cure, or at least alleviate, some of the ills they suffered from. He hunted among the bags of dried leaves and the phials of cordial until he found a bag containing spikes of yellow flowers with deeply cut fern-like leaves.

  ‘Agrimony. This is what we need. Dino, get a pan of water on the fire. When it is boiling I can make an infusion that should help.’

  ‘Can I do anything?’ Marc asked.

  ‘Not really. Did you manage to find some clean breeches for him? He can’t ride home bare-arsed.’

  ‘Here. They are far from new, but they will cover his nakedness. Shall I take them to him?’

  ‘Better not. He’s ashamed to be seen like this. I think he’d prefer it if I was the only one.’

  It took a while to boil the water and then steep the herbs in it; but as soon as it was cool enough Ranulph carried it into the cave and roused his patient.

  ‘Tancred? Can you sit up? Drink this. It will ease the pain in your belly and stop the flux.’

  Tancred sipped, grimaced, and obediently drained the cup. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and blinked at Ranulph. ‘Brothers in Christ, eh?’

  ‘Isn’t that what we are all supposed to be?’ Ranulph said. In that one look he recognised that the months of enmity were over.

  ‘He’s too weak to ride back tonight,’ he told Marc. ‘I’ll have to stay with him.’

  ‘We’ll all stay,’ Marc said. ‘I had anticipated it, so I brought some provisions.’

  ‘What would I do without you?’ Ranulph asked.

  Tancred slept through the night without incident and by next morning, though weak and groggy, he was able to mount his horse with Ranulph’s help and they headed back to Qubeiba. Here they found that Godfrey had given orders for the camp to be moved closer to the city walls. The men sang psalms as they marched, and some of them went barefoot as a sign of humility, remembering that the very stones on which they walked were sanctified by the feet that had once trodden them. Godfrey set up his banner to the west of the city, with Tancred close by and Robert of Normandy with Robert of Flanders north of them. Raymond of Toulouse, still sulking over the loss of the unquestioned leadership he had once enjoyed, had gone with his forces to camp on the far side of the city, on the slopes of Mount Zion. As soon as the positions were established, Godfrey and the other princes decided on a direct assault.

  ‘Do we have scaling ladders?’ Ranulph asked.

  ‘Only one,’ was the reply. ‘Iftikhar ordered all the trees within a day’s march cut down, so there’s no wood to build more.’

  ‘It’s madness!’ Ranulph said.

  ‘Perhaps. But the defenders won’t be expecting an assault. We may be able to take them by surprise.’

  To Ranulph’s amazement, Tancred was in the forefront of the attack. Watching him rallying his men he could only admire the courage of a man who had not eaten for more than twenty-four hours and whose bowels must still be churning.

  ‘A tribute to the efficacy of your medicine,’ Marc said.

  ‘A tribute to sheer guts and determination,’ Ranulph replied.

  The assault proved the truth of Ranulph’s initial reaction. The defenders were far from being taken by surprise and the first man up the ladder, Raimbold Croton, fell back with a scream, his hand severed at the wrist. Tancred was close behind him and Ranulph saw him drop the defender with a sweep of his sword and jump down out of sight. Others clambered up after him, Ranulph and Marc among them. By the time they reached the battlements fierce hand-to-hand fighting was going on all along the wall. For a few wild moments it seemed as if they might break through. A man rushed at Ranulph, scimitar upraised. He blocked the stroke, riposted, kicked the man in the groin and ran on. Another defender appeared before him and Ranulph ran him through and yanked his blade free as he fell. The outer wall was clear, but between him and the city was a dry moat and then a second wall, and he could see men falling as they attempted to scale it. Already the moat was strewn with bodies. It was clear that they had no chance of breaching this second line of defence and losses were going to be heavy if they persisted in the attempt. From below, he heard a trumpet sound the retreat and turned back, thankfully, to where the ladder stood. There was a mad scramble to get onto it, and men slid and tumbled to the ground, but at last they were out of range of arrows and able to draw breath. Ranulph looked around and was thankful to see Marc leaning on his sword and panting. Tancred was almost the last down the ladder, his face streaked with blood, but whether his own or an enemy’s Ranulph could not tell.

  The mood that night was sombre. No one sang. There was no wood for fires, so they ate cold meat and hard bread and washed it down sparingly with water mixed with a little wine. Looking around him, Ranulph was struck by how few they were. Of the great horde that had left Constantinople less than a third was left, by his reckoning. It had happened slowly. By mutual agreement, Baldwin of Boulogne had separated from them with his forces early on and gone to conquer Edessa, where he was now in control as Alexios’s representative. Bohemond had stayed behind in Antioch. Stephen of Blois had deserted and taken his men with him. Starvation and disease had accounted for many more; more even than the casualties of war. But those that were left were hardened warriors, men whose courage and endurance had been tempered in the fires of battle, and they were not going to give up.

  Godfrey called a council of war. ‘It is clear from today’s attempt that we have no hope of taking the city without siege engines. We need towers, battering rams, mangonels, but to build them we need wood and Iftikhar has had every tree within miles felled. We shall have to bring timber from further afield, but we need to find out where to go for it. Are the two Christian merchants still around the camp?’

  ‘They are, my lord,’ someone answered.

  ‘Ranulph, find them and ask if they can tell us where to find trees suitable for our purpose.’

  ‘I will, my lord,’ Ranulph responded. ‘But I can tell you where to find some wood closer to hand.’ He explained about the timber he had seen in the cave, adding, ‘It will not be enough, but it would be something to start with.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Godfrey said. ‘Tomorrow, take what men and animals you need and bring it back.’

  ‘There is a more pressing need than wood,’ Count Robert put in. ‘We must find water supplies before the men start to die of thirst. My people located the spring we were told of, but it is a good half-day’s ride away and we do not have vessels large enough to carry the quantity of water we need.’

  There were various suggestions, none of them practical, until a new voice joined the discussion. Gaston of Béarn was an engineer, a Provençal who had defected from Raymond’s army and who was
admitted to their conferences because of his expertise in building siege towers and other engines of war.

  ‘I have a suggestion. We make water bottles out of leather. Why should we not sew whole skins together, in the form of huge bottles or jars, and carry water in them? They could be slung one on each side of a mule and a dozen such would quench the thirst of many.’

  The idea was adopted enthusiastically and Gaston was told to take what men he needed for the purpose. Next morning Ranulph set out for the cave and returned with four camels laden with beams and planks. It was good, seasoned timber, ideal for their purpose, and work was begun immediately to construct a tower, but it was soon clear that when finished it would not be tall enough to reach to the top of the wall. The two merchants had given directions to the nearest forest and a contingent set out with camels and mules to bring back more wood, but it would take days to complete the round trip.

  ‘I hope the men on the ramparts aren’t watching us too closely,’ Marc commented as they left. ‘We are few enough already. With some gone to find wood and others to fetch water, now would be the perfect opportunity for them to make an attack.’

  Fortunately, it seemed that Iftikhar was happy to strengthen his defences and wait for the Egyptian army under al-Afdal to come to the rescue.

  The Frank’s difficulties had not gone unnoticed in the local villages and traders began to appear, offering goods of various sorts. Most importantly, they brought water, which they sold at extortionate prices. Ranulph spent the last of his money to buy enough to keep himself and Dino alive; and the loyal Fernando, whose ability to create edible dishes from the most unlikely ingredients had kept them from starvation more than once. There was not enough to spare for the horses, who were surviving on the dew they could lick from the rocks in the early morning. It tugged at Ranulph’s heart to see Brand hanging his head in exhaustion.

  There was only one place where water was still available and that was the pool of Siloam, and he decided that if the horse were to live he must take him there, even at the risk of an arrow through the head. He led the stallion carefully down the rocky slope to the valley where the spring arose and found that he was not alone. The ordinary soldiers could not afford the prices being asked for water and had been forced to take the same risk. The spring rose quite close to the walls, filled a rocky pool and then filtered away in a marsh and it was there, just out of range of the archers on the walls, that the men were filling their bottles. Ranulph stopped and scooped up a handful of water. He scrutinised it for a moment and then threw it down with an oath.

  ‘Stop, you fools! There are leeches in the water. If you drink this it will kill you.’

  One or two of them lifted their heads to listen, then turned back to what they were doing. The rest ignored him. Ranulph tried grabbing one or two of them by the shoulders and trying to shake sense into them, but they pulled away from him, their eyes wide and desperate.

  ‘So what if it kills us?’ one of them asked. ‘Better that than dying of thirst.’

  Ranulph gave up and led Brand closer to the walls, where the water was clear and fresh. He knew he was making himself a target and just hoped that the crossbowmen on the ramparts were either asleep or very poor shots. While the horse drank he crouched in the partial shelter of a rock. No one fired at him and he concluded that they had been told to conserve their bolts for repelling the attack that must come. Nevertheless, it was a relief when Brand at last lifted his head and shook drops of water from his muzzle.

  Ranulph took up the reins. ‘Come on, old friend. That will keep you going for another day or two, at least.’

  Back at the camp, a page came running. ‘There’s a man asking for you. He looks like a sailor, a ship’s captain perhaps.’

  ‘Where?’ Ranulph asked.

  ‘The sentries have him, over there.’

  Hurrying to the track that led up from the road, Ranulph was overjoyed to find a familiar figure.

  ‘Edgar!’ Then hastily correcting himself, he bowed. ‘Sire!’ He turned to the sentries. ‘Let him go. I know him.’

  Edgar slapped him on the back. ‘No need for formality. I’m glad to see you still on your feet. How are things going here?’

  ‘Not well,’ Ranulph said. He explained the shortage of water and of timber and Edgar grinned.

  ‘In that case, I have good news for you. Can you take me to Duke Godfrey?’

  They found Godfrey sitting gloomily under the shade of his tent. He rose as they approached and Ranulph said, ‘My lord, please may I present Edgar Aethling, the man who should be King of England.’

  Godfrey looked understandably at a loss. He was, after all, a Norman and his fellow countrymen had deprived Edgar of his throne. Edgar, however, put him at his ease, disclaiming any animosity.

  ‘It is Edgar whose ships have followed us down the coast from Antioch and given us much needed supplies,’ Ranulph explained.

  ‘Then we are in your debt,’ Godfrey said.

  ‘You may have better reason to thank me when you hear my news,’ Edgar told him. ‘A new fleet has just put in at Joppa, where we are moored. They are Genoese, and they have brought with them just those things of which I gather you have most need.’

  ‘What things?’ Godfrey asked.

  ‘Timber for building, axes, nails, ropes. It seems someone guessed you would be requiring such things if you are to take Jerusalem. But they are afraid of being attacked on the road, so I am here to ask you to send men to escort them.’

  Godfrey raised his eyes to heaven. ‘God has indeed heard my prayers! I thank him, and you for bringing me such excellent news.’

  Ranulph asked for and was given command of the escort and by the following evening they had reached Joppa. Here he discovered to his great pleasure that the captain of the leading Genoese vessel was a man he had negotiated with in Antioch.

  ‘You gave me a good deal back there,’ the man said, ‘and we promised you assistance in return. I’ve been following your progress and I realised that an army covering the sort of distances you have covered couldn’t be dragging heavy siege engines behind it, so I reckoned you’d be in need of some timber.’

  ‘We are,’ Ranulph agreed. ‘What you have brought will make the difference between victory and defeat – or go a long way towards it.’

  The captain cocked his head. ‘Is it enough?’

  Ranulph looked at the stacks of timber and the coils of rope on the quayside. ‘I’m no expert. I only know we need to build at least two very high towers, plus mangonels and ladders. I don’t know if this will be enough.’

  The Genoese was silent, frowning. Then he said, ‘The ships have masts. There are thwarts and rails, and plenty of rope …’

  Ranuph stared at him. ‘You would cannibalise your ships?’

  ‘The cause is good,’ the captain said. ‘Never let is be said that your noble quest failed for want of a few spars. And I will send you my ships’ carpenters and any man else who can wield a saw and a hammer.’

  The following evening a long caravan of laden camels and mules wound its way into the camp, to the cheers of all the soldiers. From the next morning the air rang with the sound of sawing and hammering and the tower rose rapidly. Gaston and Godfrey and Tancred spent hours bending over the plans the engineer had drawn up and the rumour was that there was to be some secret adaptation that had never been tried before.

  Half the timber was despatched to the camp Raymond had set up on the opposite side of the city, and Ranulph rode over to see it delivered.

  ‘How do they fare over there?’ Godfrey enquired when he returned.

  ‘Well enough, but they have chosen a bad place to mount an attack. There is a dry moat between them and the walls. Raymond is paying his men one penny for every three rocks thrown into it and it is filling up fast. He should be able to bridge it soon.’

  ‘It had better be soon,’ Godfrey remarked grimly. ‘We captured a messenger from al-Afdal while you were away at Joppa. He was loath to speak but it di
dn’t take much to persuade him. The Egyptians are only fifteen days’ march away.’

  One sultry evening the leaders gathered to discuss progress. Everyone was hot and exhausted and longing for water to drink and to wash away the dirt and sweat of the day. There was a noise of horse’s hooves outside the tent and a moment later Raymond of Toulouse strode in, his brows bent in fury.

  ‘Tancred! Where are you, you insolent, greedy pup?’

  Tancred rose to his feet and confronted him. ‘You will apologise for that, St. Gilles, or we shall have to fight.’

  ‘I have just learned that you have had the impudence to raise your standard over Bethlehem. What right do you have to claim the saviour’s birthplace for yourself?’

  ‘I have offered my protection to the people there. Is it not fitting that we should guard such a holy place?’

  ‘I know you!’ Raymond ground out. ‘You and your uncle are cut from the same cloth, both of you out for everything you can grab. I swear to you that unless you withdraw your men and lower your flag, I will make no move towards the capture of Jerusalem.’

  ‘My lord,’ Godfrey intervened, ‘surely the capture of the city transcends all petty squabbles.’

  ‘Petty squabbles! That young pup is trying to steal a fiefdom for himself.’

  ‘And you have no interest in doing the same?’ Tancred enquired. ‘So what were you doing in Ma’arat, and at Arqa?’

  ‘My purpose has always been to free our Christian brethren from the thrall of the infidel.’

  ‘That is the aim of all of us,’ Godfrey said. ‘So can we not put aside the question of who governs Bethlehem until after we have achieved it?’

  Raymond glared from him to Tancred, cornered. ‘Let him take down his standard, then. Until he does, I will not fight.’ At this, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the tent. A moment later they heard his horse’s hooves clattering away.

  Godfrey looked at Tancred. ‘Is it not worth pocketing your pride to achieve the greater end?’

  ‘Let him apologise for his insults, then,’ Tancred retorted and left.