Soldier of Crusade Read online

  Added to that prowess was the trouble he could cause, if disgruntled, by stirring up resentments with his fellow Crusaders. In the formulation of imperial policy Alexius had quite fixed aims: to throw back from his borders the Turks who, if left in peace, would threaten the city of Constantinople itself, something he lacked the means to achieve. Three times he had sought to retake Nicaea, each attempt ending in failure; perhaps with these Western knights that could be brought about and the infidels defeated to create a true buffer between them and the capital. If they moved on south, every step taken towards Jerusalem was one that would provide enhanced security for Byzantium.

  After passing through endless corridors, Alexius led Bohemund into a private and much smaller chamber, where two servants awaited him, as did food and wine, the latter poured on command. Both he gestured should leave and when they obeyed, though they left the door ajar, he indicated that his guest should occupy a capacious divan, before personally handing him a jewel-encrusted goblet, he sitting down opposite in a curule chair. The goblet Bohemund took, but he did not drink from it until Alexius had done so first, which did not go unnoticed.

  ‘You think I might poison you?’

  ‘More I think that someone might seek to poison you, Alexius, and that I would suffer by inadvertence.’

  ‘Did you not see I am well protected?’

  ‘As well protected as many of those who preceded you, such as Nikephoros.’

  Alexius smiled; he suspected Bohemund was trying to needle him by mentioning the previous emperor. ‘He was a weak man, I am not.’

  ‘Was it not a mistake to spare his eyes, in fact his life?’

  ‘I did not invite you here to discuss the events of the past, Count Bohemund. I wear the diadem now and it is with me that men must deal. Why have you come here?’

  The sudden change was designed to throw Bohemund off guard; it failed because he had been waiting for it. ‘I answered the call of Pope Urban.’

  ‘So you are bound for Jerusalem?’

  ‘I have had to point out to many of those who follow me that such a goal is a very long way off and much stands between what the Pope might desire and what can actually be achieved.’

  ‘Are you saying you do not think the Crusade will succeed?’

  ‘You know what I am saying.’

  ‘It concerns me that you may have other things in mind.’

  ‘Like an attack on the city?’ Alexius nodded as Bohemund took a deep drink. ‘That is ambition long since put aside. I do not have the strength to attempt such a thing.’

  ‘Yet you do not deny that such a possibility excites you?’

  ‘No, any more than that you would like to regain from we Normans the provinces of Langobardia and Calabria. Like me, Alexius, you lack the ability to make that dream become a reality.’

  ‘And what of your fellow Crusaders?’

  ‘Since I do not know them I do not know their minds.’

  ‘So you did not seek to garner support from Godfrey de Bouillon?’ Answered with a look of bewilderment Alexius continued. ‘You did write to him, did you not?’

  ‘Only to see if his views on what we might face coincided with my own.’

  ‘And the others yet to arrive, have you communicated with them?’

  ‘Why should I when I suspect that their gaze is fixed on the Holy Land, as is mine?’

  Bohemund interpreted the following silence as a lack of belief, which was hardly surprising. But if Alexius knew that he could not send the Apulians packing for the effect it would have on other Western knights, so did the man who commanded them.

  ‘It is vital that all of you cooperate with Byzantium.’

  ‘We will not get far, Alexius, if we do not, nor will we get far if we do not cooperate with each other.’

  Alexius was quick to discern the meaning of that. ‘You see trouble ahead?’

  ‘I hope for the opposite but I would be a fool, and so would you, not to count it as a possibility. A divided command is a dangerous one.’

  ‘Why did you stop your progress at Heboomon, why is your army camped there?’

  The change of tack was a deliberate attempt to fend Bohemund off from where he was obviously headed – the answer to a divided command was a unified one and who better to head that, with imperial support, than a Norman whose worth he knew? Aware that Alexius was not going to allow himself to be dragged into a discussion of that, Bohemund answered the question with a pre-prepared and wholly specious answer.

  ‘To ease your concerns, given I had no idea that Vermandois and Bouillon had departed and crossed to Bithynia. I thought that the addition of my Apulians to their forces, sitting outside your walls, might cause you anxiety.’

  Alexius allowed himself a ghost of a smile. ‘And if I requested that you do likewise?’

  ‘If that is your wish I am happy to meet it, as long as my men and my mounts are fed and watered.’

  ‘You have heard of the oath taken by Vermandois and Bouillon?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Then I am bound to enquire if you will make the same pledge.’

  Bohemund feigned surprise, but he did it well. ‘Is not that the reason you have called me to your palace?’

  Alexius was just as good at masking his true feelings, yet to a sharp eye a sudden need to blink was as good as a shout, even if, in revealing he had reacted when he should not have, the Emperor kept his eyes closed; that response had taken him off guard. He took his time to open them once more and fix his visitor with a firm look.

  ‘You have come prepared to swear?’

  ‘I will do so now, if you wish, Alexius, and to you alone.’

  The reply was slow and soft. ‘No, Count Bohemund, let it be done with due ceremony and in the presence of witnesses. I would have you swear too on the holy relics kissed by the others so that you know you are risking eternal damnation if you betray the pledge you make.’

  ‘Anyone would suspect you did not trust me.’

  Alexius was too shrewd to respond to that direct challenge, even if it came with an amused smile. He stood and indicated the door. ‘I will send my Curopalates to you on the morrow.’

  Bohemund was escorted back to his encampment by a squadron of cavalry to find Tancred pacing back and forth, worried that his uncle had walked into some form of trap. If many of the tales of Byzantine intrigue were lurid they were not without some basis in fact; over the centuries people had been regularly killed in cold blood and the methods were the stuff of nightmares. Pick a pear from a tree and it might have been filled with a fatal toxin, accept an imperial gift of, say, a gold casket and there might be a famished and venomous snake waiting for you to lift the lid. It was rumoured that they had even perfected such a thing as a poisoned cloak, for that was a common imperial gift and a mark of respect.

  ‘I daresay Alexius would like to see me dead, but it’s not something he can at present afford.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘You can make your own mind up, Tancred; we go to the Blachernae tomorrow to take the same oath as Godfrey of Bouillon and Vermandois.’

  Tancred could not hide his surprise. ‘You intend to swear?’

  ‘If we are to proceed I have little choice.’

  ‘The risk—’

  ‘What risk – swearing on the relics of saints?’ Bohemund snapped.

  ‘That would give me pause; it would give most men pause.’

  ‘If you go to Santa Sophia the divines there will show you many things, including two heads of John the Baptist. I have heard it said that men with such a feature exist, but they do not do so as biblical prophets. One of those heads must be a fake and that throws doubt on any others, so how do I know what I am being asked to swear on is a true relic or some fanciful object dug up by some dreamer or fraud?’

  ‘An oath is an oath, made to God even if the relics are dubious.’

  ‘Which I will keep as long as Alexius keeps his, and think on this, nephew! Alexius Comnenus was once given the milita
ry title of nobilissimus, the first to be so termed with the highest rank the Emperor could bestow, and that was for his service to his predecessor, to whom I think you will agree, he must have made an oath of loyalty both before he was granted the title and at the ceremony of investiture?’

  ‘Of course,’ Tancred replied, for he knew what was coming.

  ‘Where is the one-time Emperor Nikephoros now? In a monastery praying that the man who swore that oath does not suddenly see cause to have him strangled. I will make the pledge that Alexius demands and I will hold to it as long as he does the same. That is the warning I sent him in that letter to Bouillon, which, to ease your curiosity, he had plainly read.’

  Bohemund knew his nephew was troubled and he was aware why: the younger man had more fear of divine retribution than he but it was not just that. If his own motives in coming on Crusade were mixed, those of Tancred were less so. He could recall only too clearly the way his nephew had sought to persuade him to take up the Crusade outside the walls of Amalfi, talking of the opportunities for wealth and plunder, never stating the other possibility: that a young warrior with a strong arm and a small inheritance, the fiefs of Lecce and Monteroni, might carve out for himself in the recovered territories possessions of his own to rank with those of his de Hauteville forbearers.

  ‘I cannot swear, Uncle.’

  ‘You do not have to, I will swear for myself and the forces I command.’

  ‘That includes me.’

  ‘It might not always be so, Tancred.’ Their eyes locked for a long time, until the young man nodded to say he understood: one day he would strike out on his own behalf and with his uncle’s blessing. ‘Go back to Heboomon and prepare to lead the army across to the Gulf of Nicomedia, I will deal with the Emperor Alexius.’

  Bohemund did not wait for Boutoumites to come to him; he was outside the Blachernae Gate at first light with his familia knights, helmeted, in chain mail, wearing his great sword, his snow-white surplice with the bold red cross and loudly demanding entry, which was granted but not to the audience chamber. Knowing that they must wait until all was made ready they did so in the Church of St Mary, on their knees before the shrine to her memory, like knights at vigil over a dead leader. Bohemund was aware as he stayed still in his devotions that a stream of the curious came in to cast eyes on this epitome of the Norman warrior until eventually the messenger came.

  The ceremony was the same as that attended by Godfrey de Bouillon and his captains, the same clutch of courtiers, the same guards at the pillars and Alexius on his dais in full regalia. Called upon to come before the Emperor he and his followers, still wearing spurs, made a noisy entry to the airy and spacious chamber to kneel before Alexius, swords acting as crosses, where the same oath was required and given, the relics brought forward to Bohemund to be kissed in turn.

  ‘It pleases me that we are at peace, Count Bohemund.’

  ‘I too, Imperator.’ Alexius could not help but smile; if Bohemund was not about to address him as ‘Highness’ he had found a way to show his respect with the ancient Roman title. What followed was not so pleasing. ‘And I ask that to seal such a peace you swear, on these same holy relics, that you shall give to our Crusade all the aid that is at your disposal to provide.’

  If that set up a buzz amongst the eunuchs, it infuriated Alexius and he made no attempt to hide his anger. ‘You doubt that I will do so?’

  ‘No, but it would ease my soul if I knew that you were as committed to me as I am now committed to you.’

  The gesture that fetched to the dais the thigh bone of St Peter was a sharp one and, with a glare at Bohemund, Alexius bent to kiss it, but he did so in silence, no words were spoken. Unbidden Bohemund stood and his men followed.

  ‘My army is ready to march, all they require is to be told where to embark. I would beg to be allowed to stay in the city to ensure that the supplies we need with which to campaign are bought and stored, also that ships are available to carry them to where they need to go, which I will be right in assuming is Nicaea.’

  ‘That must be the first objective,’ Alexius replied, still seething. ‘But I would wish your senior captains to swear the oath too.’

  ‘When I pledge it is on behalf of them all.’

  The silence was long, for here again was a problem about which it had to be considered if it was worth making a stand. Eventually Alexius nodded, having decided it was not, stood himself and descended to ground level, where he removed the heavy diadem and handed it to a grovelling eunuch.

  ‘There is something I wish to show you.’

  Alexius turned and left the chamber, Bohemund alone following to a door through which the Emperor had disappeared. On entry the Norman was dazzled by the light of hundreds of candles, but it was not their illumination that hurt the eyes so much as the way that reflected off what was stacked in the room, objects of gold and silver in a quantity Bohemund had never seen assembled in one place, bolts of the finest silk dyed in a multitude of colours, trays which on closer examination were covered in precious stones. Try as he might to maintain his composure, it could not be done; Bohemund actually gasped, for all the revenues of his domains, which were substantial, would not add up to this is in a decade.

  ‘You will have heard that I rewarded Hugh of Vermandois and Godfrey of Bouillon for their oath of loyalty to me.’ That got a cautious nod, for it had been used to tell both men how they stood in imperial regard, the Frenchman with his derisory ring and de Bouillon with his casket of coins. ‘So that you will know how highly I regard your acceding to the same, I wish that you will accept the contents of this small chamber as a reward for the services I know you will render to me in the future.’

  ‘This is all for me?’

  ‘It is,’ Alexius replied. ‘And may it let you consider what you might gain by keeping to the oath you just took.’

  Bohemund nodded, but he was thinking, as well as securing supplies he must find a ship and a trusted captain to take this treasure back to Bari. There was too much to transport over the terrain they were about to cover and its value in his homeland vault would be much greater than it would be in Constantinople.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The camp to which Tancred led the army was as well ordered as the sea crossing that got them to the shores of Asia Minor, ample open barges for horses that made easier the loading and unloading, given they never lost sight of the sky or the Bosphorus shore; not that it was simple, transporting horses over water was a skill that the Normans had learnt in Calabria. They could not have conquered Sicily without it and much of the lesson came from how to sedate the most awkward and skittish animals with potion provided by Basilian monks. Such tricks had been passed by to their fellow Normans at home and the Guiscard had always claimed that, without his aid, the man they called the Conqueror would never have got his mounted knights to the battlefield of Senlac.

  Assembled on the Galata side it was a full day’s march to the camp at which Alexius had decreed the Crusaders should assemble. Aware of their coming the Byzantine officials who controlled the province had already designated an area in which they could pitch their tents and set up horse lines in close proximity to running water, this from specially dug shallow canals, and to get there the Apulians were obliged to pass through what was, in many respects, very like a Roman legionary encampment of ancient times.

  A main roadway ran through the centre with an oration platform in front of a series of large pavilions on one side and a parade space opposite, while the tents, cooking and latrine pits of the previous arrivals lay beyond. The sight of their fellow Christians, especially the fabled Norman warriors, engendered much curiosity amongst the men of Lotharingia and Central France, bringing them to stare, and being soldiers the new arrivals were the subject of much diminishing ribaldry, which had the commander and his captains needing to enforce restraint on men who took badly to insults regarding their manhood.

  Within an hour Tancred had raised a de Hauteville pennant above one of the central pa
vilions to join those on the adjoining tents of Godfrey de Bouillon and Hugh of Vermandois. But he did not linger to seek their company; before the flag raising he had set his knights to constructing a manège in which he and his lances could properly exercise, the kind of facility with which they had honed their skills, first in Normandy and then in Italy. If there had been training on the Via Egnatia it could not compare with what they undertook now, which was designed to get them back to the peak of those abilities which struck so much fear into their enemies.

  The task was to create a large area of soft ground, sandy if possible, big enough to work their mounts, into which thick poles were driven for sword practice, others to bear sacks and shields to be attacked with lances at saddle height as well as a false shield wall behind which the Apulian foot soldiers would gathered to create as much of a cacophony of noise as they could so that the destriers approaching such a defensive line got accustomed to the din and were able to ignore it. Working in conroys of ten, the standard Norman fighting unit, they practised wheeling and manoeuvring their destriers, these then combining into larger groups so that everyone understood and responded to the same commands.

  When not yelling for their mounted confrères, Bohemund’s Apulian milities were also engaged in training, albeit of a simple repetitive variety: when to move forward or back, to left and to right on which call of the horn, the recognition of certain banners that would presage an attack, a retreat or a warning of incoming flights of arrows, which required them to kneel and cover their heads with their shields. If the other Crusaders trained for battle too, none did so with the application of the men from Italy.

  ‘So when do we get a sight of your giant Bohemund?’ asked Godfrey de Bouillon when, a few days later, Tancred finally dined with them. ‘Our cousin of France assures me I will be astounded.’

  Vermandois, himself tall, but gangly rather than sturdy, was nodding, which did nothing to disturb his carefully barbered golden locks, nor show any hint of intelligence in his pale-blue eyes; having met the Count of Taranto in Bari he had, no doubt, been vocal in his impression. The contrast between the two northern magnates was striking: Godfrey had a barrel chest and seemed near as broad as he was tall due to the shortness of his treetrunk-like legs. Tancred had an amusing vision of him bestowing a kiss of peace on Bohemund’s knee instead of his cheek, but even holding such a thought he also had to acknowledge that de Bouillon appeared to be no fool.