As the man who had initiated the whole affair Godfrey was well to the fore, and to those observing him he looked a bit like an animal himself, nose twitching as though he had senses as acute as the prey
he sought to smell out. To left and right the beaters were thudding everything in their path and soon their efforts bore fruit as a herd of deer broke cover and, with blaring horns, the mounted nobles set off in pursuit only to find that manoeuvring though uncut undergrowth seriously hampered their efforts.
De Bouillon cast the first javelin and so powerful was his throw, even from what was too great a distance, he managed to graze the buttock of the stag at which he aimed. Baldwin, right with him, had more success, aiming for a plump doe as it sought to jump a bush but which fell sideways as his spear struck home. His brother, in frustration, had grabbed another javelin off one of his accompanying knights and sped after his stag, soon to be lost to sight by greenery. Baldwin dismounted, putting his doe out of her misery and about to tell those knights he had brought with him to load it onto a spare horse when a series of roars and screams rent the air.
Still mounted, Bohemund and Tancred crashed into the undergrowth, following the path taken by Godfrey though that was far from clear, heading towards the noise, which now seemed to be more roars than cries of human pain. As in all forests there were clearings and the one they burst into presented the sight they feared: Godfrey, covered in blood, trying to fend off with a sword held by an arm that appeared to be broken, a huge brown bear, and with his mount nowhere to be seen.
Their arrival distracted the bear who turned, blood dripping from its teeth, to face them and that, if it did not give either man pause, made their hearts beat at a different rate. If such a creature was fighting there must be cubs somewhere close, for they were generally given to avoiding humans. That meant this she-bear would fight to the death and they were formidable creatures when roused to protect their young.
Godfrey, now collapsed, lay as a heap on the ground near its spread legs, and Bohemund for one certainly hoped that if he was alive he would stay that way; if he raised his head one swipe of a massive paw would break his neck. Without a word Tancred had edged right while Bohemund trended left, but for all they were in a clearing the low undergrowth was still heavy, too much so for a horse to charge through at any pace, which would be needed to avoid being unhorsed. Added to that, the mounts that he and Tancred were on were not fighting horses and they would likely baulk at getting too close to a bear anyway.
As Godfrey stirred – he was badly mauled but not dead – that obliged Tancred to cast his lightweight spear, which hit the bear on one shoulder and caused it to stagger back. The sound it emitted was a mixture of pain and fury, and even if it was stunned and did not comprehend what had happened, the creature had enough sense to pull the javelin out of its body before starting to lope towards the man who had thrown it, and that was when Bohemund came on, out of the animal’s eyeline.
Yet he could not be silent with all the breaking branches he smashed through and he saw the bear stiffen to stop and turn. He dropped his own javelin – it might wound but such a weapon would have to strike something vital to kill – whipped out his sword and forced his mount to keep going as it bucked to refuse. Rising in his stirrups, he was tall enough to utterly overawe an animal that may well never have seen a human before, especially one that stood taller than itself, which forced it to seek to claw his terrified horse.
The blade of the sword swung down, to only catch the creature’s eyes a second before it cut in and down to the massive furred neck. It was testimony to the depth of that and the muscles and tendons
it contained that even Bohemund could not cut through, but he did enough to stop it cold, a great fount of blood spurting out of the sliced open main artery. There was a feeble attempt then to claw at his legs, but not for long; after several ineffectual waves of its paws, the bear toppled over in its death throes.
‘Stay mounted, Tancred, there may be another close by.’
Bohemund clambered off his horse, his sword held out at the ready, his eyes sweeping the edges of the clearing, those kept moving as he knelt close to Godfrey who was so obviously badly hurt. De Bouillon tried to move, as if seeking to get to his feet, and it took a carefully placed hand to restrain him, for it was impossible to tell the location of all his wounds.
‘Still, friend, help is coming.’
A horde of men broke through to the clearing, Baldwin with them, and if they looked down on the Duke of Lower Lorraine with pity, his brother did not; if anything he had the gleam of avarice in his eyes.
‘Fashion a stretcher,’ Bohemund ordered, ‘and get him back to the monks, but gently. Tancred, down you come and aid me in looking for the cubs. I fancy they will make gifts for members of the council.’
‘There must be more bears, Uncle.’ His nephew replied with obvious trepidation, still in his saddle.
‘Yes, males, who will eat the cubs if we don’t find them.’
Godfrey was in a bad way, with many broken bones and open wounds from sharp claws and it was obvious his recovery would take time. When it came to the next council and to the planning of the move south, Baldwin of Boulogne took his elder brother’s place and immediately ruined what had been, if not always outright harmony, any sense of shared purpose. He demanded primacy in all things for
the Lotharingians, openly stating that the Normans had been too often indulged and that Raymond of Toulouse had assumed airs to which he was not entitled.
He gave offence to all present, and watching him make these claims Bohemund exchanged a look with Robert of Normandy, and if it was a questioning one the Count of Taranto was not entirely displeased, for a little grit in the machinery of governance might in the end lead to a resolution of the entire question of command.
‘It is to be hoped,’ Bishop Adémar said, wearily, as he summed up the meeting in a rare display of feeling, ‘that your good brother comes back to full health soon.’
Baldwin was content; for the sake of concord, he had been assured he would enjoy the lead position when the host moved out and that he would be consulted as an equal in all future operations.
T
he next objective was the Seljuk stronghold of Iconium and the host was so arranged that on the approach they could move to an immediate siege, a precaution that proved unnecessary; the garrison, hearing of their approach, had fled and the gates were wide open. A rumble of discontent surfaced when Tacitus, as per his imperial instructions, took possession of the city in the name of Alexius and depleted his own meagre force to provide a garrison. His demand that it be respected and that the Crusaders be limited in their entry, as they had been at Constantinople and Nicaea, was ignored, though it was agreed that such a stricture should apply to the non-combatant pilgrims, over whom it was hard to exercise control.
There was no desire on behalf of the princes to delay; the weather was still hot but was nothing like as debilitating as barren Anatolia so it was possible to progress, while it was a reasonable assumption that their enemy was on the run, afraid to meet them in battle and not
prepared to contest every step they took. With that in mind the march was immediately resumed, aiming for the ancient Greek settlement of Heraclea in the hope that there too they would find the place abandoned.
They came upon that city mid morning and the fact that the gates were shut and the walls were manned came as an unpleasant shock, less so when on examination they proved to be in poor repair, with parts of the battlements crumbling so badly they were meat for an attack with ladders, which could be put together and employed in no time, as soon as the ritual offer to surrender was delivered.
‘An immediate assault,’ Raymond of Toulouse advised, and getting the nod from his confrères, looked to the interpreter to let Tacitus know what he proposed; that the Byzantine
Prōstratōr
agreed was a mere formality and he knew it, so the response was no more than a sharp nod. ‘Let us give them no time to settle.’
‘Losses,’ said Vermandois, ‘could be heavy, without we make proper preparations.’
‘We will incur more by delay, Count Hugh,’ Bohemund replied. ‘I admit we may be guessing but the garrison cannot be large and nor can their spirits be high. This is not Nicaea.’
‘I will lead it,’ cried Baldwin of Boulogne, his pigeon chest puffing out. ‘I demand the right.’
Bohemund’s reply was cold; he was in no position to demand anything. ‘You are perhaps too eager for glory.’
That was received with a scowl. ‘I am eager to show that my Lotharingians can fight as well as any Norman.’
It was Robert of Normandy who replied to that. ‘I do not recall anyone in this council ever suggesting they cannot.’
‘Many things are implied in this council that do not require words to be used or truths to be openly stated.’
‘Your brother never thought so.’
‘I am not my brother.’
‘So very true,’ growled Raymond of Toulouse.
Adémar, seeing Baldwin swell up to deliver an angry retort, spoke quickly. ‘Your zeal is commendable, my Lord of Boulogne’
There was flattery in that; Baldwin had been born in Boulogne, as had his brother Eustace, now acting as his supporter, but it was not a fief of his and it was not a title to which he could lay claim; the man who could, the Count of Flanders, was present supporting the Duke of Normandy. Still Baldwin seemed willing to accept it, though it did nothing to soften his belligerence.
‘When the Count of Taranto talks of an immediate assault he no doubt means by his own men or those of the Duke, his boon companion. You pressed a plan at Nicaea that favoured your men in battle, and who chased after the command of the forward section of the host before Dorylaeum if not the Normans?’
‘Chased?’ Robert demanded, very obviously affronted, only to be stopped by Bohemund.
‘I care not who carries out any assualt, Baldwin, only that it is done and quickly in the hope that those Turks manning the walls will sense their situation to be hopeless.’
After Bishop Adémar’s elevation to a lordship, the absence of any use of a title from the Apulian leader was significant and there was no doubt de Bouillon’s younger brother resented it. He shared some features with Godfrey, the ability to go puce in the face one of them.
‘It has to be acknowledged you have ever assumed a lead in these affairs, you Normans.’
That comment by Vermandois, which was as stupid an interruption as he had ever uttered, got a hearty nod from red-faced Baldwin,
flashes of anger from the two Norman nobles and a look of horror from Adémar; the French fool was about to lift the lid on a tub of worms.
‘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.’