Shadows on a Sword (17 page)

“Can we not mount another attack on the citadel?” Amalric strode back and forth in front of his foster father. “Surely, we must not just let Shams ad-Daula abide there.”

“There is nothing else we can do for the moment,” the duke replied. “Lord Bohemond has said that we must begin readying ourselves for the arrival of Kerbogha. We must find provisions, too. The city was much more in need than I had realized. There are practically no stores of food left.” He did not add that the crusaders themselves, in their madness, had destroyed most of the city’s wealth.

Little by little, order was restored. The patriarch John was released from prison and put back on the patriarchal throne. The Bishop of Le Puy had the Cathedral of St. Peter and the other desecrated churches cleaned and restored to Christian worship.

Early one morning, Theo awoke to a stirring in the city. He dressed quickly and sought out his foster father.

“Kerbogha and his army have arrived,” the count said. He led Theo to one of the wall towers. Looking out from between the battlements, Theo could see the Turkish army encamped in the very positions the crusaders had occupied. He stared in awe at the sheer number of men. Tents stretched out along the walls for as far as he could see in either direction. The encampment teemed with soldiers, archers and horses—a moving, seething mass of brilliant color. The noise was indescribable. Men shouted, horses neighed and whinnied. Dozens of camels added their outlandish brays to the din.

Before the week was out, Kerbogha had reinforced the citadel above his troops and encircled the city completely. Cut off from any hope of foraging or replenishing their supplies, the crusaders were now the besieged, and the Turks the besiegers.

“Only the emperor can help us now,” Theo said to Emma. “He must send troops to help us.”

Emma was grooming Centurion. Her own nag had been lost or stolen during the battle. She came every day to Theo’s house to perform her duties for him, but she refused to live there, preferring instead to pitch her tent in a nearby field.

“There are bloodstains on the floors,” she said when Theo offered her one of the rooms. “Bloodstains from innocent people—a family, perhaps. I could not possibly live here.”

Theo tried to persuade her, but his arguments were weak. In truth, he himself felt uncomfortable in the house and spent as little time there as possible. The knowledge that its former owners had undoubtedly been killed in the slaughter was just one more thing he did not wish to think about.

Emma paused to take a rest. She was still weak, but insisted on carrying out her groom’s duties in spite of any protests Theo might make.

“If we are to depend on the emperor, then we are finished for certain,” she said.

Theo shook his head. “We must have faith. We are here at his bidding, after all, to help regain Jerusalem and his lost empire.”

“To fight his battles for him and reconquer the cities his Byzantine Empire has lost—that I am certain he desires us to do. But I doubt he wishes to help us much to do it—not if he has to put his own men in peril. And as for our quest to liberate Jerusalem, that is of no consequence to him whatsoever, I fear.”

That evening, news came that Stephen of Blois and a company of other noblemen and knights had slipped out of Antioch and were on their way to the port of St. Symeon.

“Deserting rats,” Emma said.

“Not so,” Theo argued. “They will tell the emperor of our plight. They will make him send help.”

“You are innocent as a babe, Theo. They will save their own skins, that is all.”

Rumor was quick to prove her right.

“The traitor!” Amalric burst into his friend’s house the next night as Theo was preparing for sleep.

“Who? What has happened?”

“Stephen of Blois. A scout just came back. The emperor did send the imperial army. The men were on their way to help us, but they met Stephen and he told them we were lost. He told them there was no hope for us. The army turned back!”

“And the emperor believed him?” Theo asked.

“Why should he not?” Amalric answered.

“Why should he not, indeed.” Emma’s voice came out of the shadows of the garden. “It gives him reason for abandoning us—for not risking the lives of his soldiers.”

“So, this is how the Greeks repay us,” Theo said.

“This is how,” Amalric replied.

Two days later, Kerbogha attacked. Before the crusaders could mount an effective defense, his soldiers took possession of one of the towers on the southwestern wall. Bohemond responded by ordering the whole section of the city around that tower to be burned. Streets, houses, all went up in flames. When the fires died down, troops of halberdiers and archers were sent to fill the area and mount guard against the Turkish troops in the tower.

“And the people who were living there—what of them?” Emma asked.

“They will have to find other dwellings,” Amalric answered.

“How grateful these Christians must be to us for liberating them from the Turks,” Emma said.

“It is war,” Amalric answered shortly. “These things cannot be helped.”

“I am beginning to understand more and more what this thing called war really is,” Emma said. “Not at all what they had us believe when we first started out on this venture, is it?”

Theo looked away from her. Amalric was right. Of course, he was. How could Emma be expected to understand?

“W
e are starving. No help is forthcoming.We must fight.”

Bohemond drew up the battle plans with all the leaders in a tent that was ominously quiet. There were no arguments, no suggestions. Theo and Amalric stood by the door and listened.

“We are vastly outnumbered,” Bohemond said, “but we will make the best use of what we have. I will divide our troops into six armies. Two hundred men will be left in the city to keep watch on the citadel.”

Theo and Amalric exchanged a tense look, but their worry was short-lived. They were to be among the attacking force.

“You will not sneak out with the army this time, Emma,” Theo said when he returned to his house. He was about to say, “I forbid it,” but stopped himself in time. Those words might be all she needed to decide to go. To his surprise, she gave him no argument.

“I have had my war,” she answered. “I begin to think war is men’s work after all. I want nothing further to do with it.”

“It is God’s work,” Theo replied. “How else could we liberate His holy city?”

“God’s work? Killing innocent people? Torching their homes and destroying everything they own? You yourself tried to tell me what it was like.
You
were shocked by the killing. I didn’t understand then, but I have learned. I, too, saw men killed.” Her voice faltered. “I, too, have killed.”

“You can’t be certain of that. An archer never knows where his arrows go in the fury of battle. It is not the same as striking a man down with a sword.”

“I
am
certain. I saw the man fall, pierced by an arrow from my bow. It was at that moment, when I stood frozen, realizing what I had done, that I was struck down. The feeling is the same, Theo. Killing is killing.”

“Killing is necessary.” The words came out of Theo’s mouth in a harsh voice that didn’t sound like his. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He was suddenly tired. He did not want to debate this with Emma. His duty was clear: he would follow his foster father and their leaders to war, to do God’s work.

“Even the bishop himself makes war, Emma. Tomorrow, many of the priests will march into battle with us. Surely, they understand God’s will. It is not for us to question.”

“But I do,” Emma replied. She turned away. “Anyway, you need not fear for me in the battle tomorrow. I will not be there.”

Theo rode out with the knights at dawn. Each contingent was under its own banner, but he could not help seeing that the banners were tarnished, the panoply of war no longer as glistening and glorious as it had been. There was a worn and weary air to the men who marched and rode with him. Many knights were horseless. They marched on foot or rode donkeys and mules. Theo felt a sense of desperation in the air. This was a battle they
had
to win.

They filed out through the gates and over the fortified bridge that protected the city. Massed on the horizon, frozen in silence, Kerbogha’s mighty army waited.

“Look!” Amalric hissed. He was riding behind Godfrey at Theo’s side, as usual.

A herald detached himself from the Turkish army and rode across the field toward them. Theo waited for Bohemond to give the signal to pause. The signal was not given. Instead, the crusaders spread out into their appointed positions as soon as they had made the crossing. There were to be no negotiations.

The herald wheeled his horse around and galloped back to the Turkish ranks. As if nervous at this show of confidence by the crusaders, Kerbogha’s army fell back.

A great shout arose from the crusaders and they surged forward. Trumpets blared, but if the command to halt was given, the eager knights heeded it not. Fooled by the very same trick they had used with the Turks, they galloped across the level field chosen by Bohemond as a good fighting ground, and were lured into the hills. Several of the horses stumbled in the rougher terrain. A few went down, carrying their riders, cursing, with them.

“It is a trap!” Theo shouted, as Kerbogha wheeled his army back to face the crusaders, archers at the ready. A hail of arrows shot into the crusaders’ ranks. Theo felt one whistle by his cheek. More horses went down, their screams mingling with the cries of the surprised knights. A section of Kerbogha’s army detached itself from the main body and galloped to outflank the crusaders on their left.

“Stop them!” Bohemond cried. Theo and Amalric charged, side by side.

Theo saw Bishop Adhemar’s standard-bearer fall. The flag was instantly trampled into shreds, but the bishop himself was fighting still. Theo’s sword flashed in the morning sunlight. Over and over it rose and fell, rose and fell. Theo lost count of the number of men he struck. The familiar, wild lust took over. The familiar, welcome silence descended upon him, wrapping him in a cocoon of invulnerability.

Only gradually did he realize the Turks were falling back. He was shocked to discover they were retreating. Beside him, Amalric let out a whoop of victory and spurred his warhorse on. Centurion, half-crazed, surged after him. Together with their comrades, they chased the fleeing army as far as the Iron Bridge, killing all they caught up to. Some of the Turks sought shelter in the keep that Tancred had constructed near the bridge. Theo only had time to see a group of crusaders surround them before he hurtled past. Their screams followed him, and then were lost behind him.

Finally, the fields before them were empty. There was no one left to kill. The crusaders reined in their warhorses and turned back, triumphant, to the city. At the gates, Bohemond turned to face his army.

“Send a message to the emperor!” he cried. “Antioch is ours!”

“Our victory is complete,” Godfrey announced with satisfaction when he had gathered his knights together the following day. “The Syrians and the Armenians in the surrounding countryside have finished our work for us. Reports tell me they have killed all the remnants of Kerbogha’s army they could find, and the citadel has surrendered to us.”

“Now, to celebrate,” Amalric gloated.

“Our leaders are quarreling already over who is to command the city,” Theo said.

“What matters that to us?” Amalric responded.

“There is much sickness in the camp,” Emma reported as she groomed Centurion a few days later.

“There is always sickness,” Theo answered.

“Not like this. I fear it is a plague, Theo.”

Theo felt a stab of fear, quickly followed by a rising anger. Were they never to be spared?

“Bishop Adhemar is sick.”

The priests offered prayers daily for his recovery, but to no avail. The whole crusading army was stunned when they finally announced his death. The bishop had been a true hero of the crusade, one of the few people whom everyone followed and trusted.

The summer heat mounted; more and more victims succumbed to sickness. Aimery, Count Garnier’s beloved squire, took sick when the plague was at its height. The count himself nursed him, but he died. Theo mourned with his foster father. Aimery had been Theo’s friend from childhood. To Theo, it seemed as if the last vestige of his boyhood was now gone.

Most of the crusaders thought the plague was carried in the air and that nothing could be done to avoid it, but Emma believed otherwise. She was convinced the disease lay in dirt, and she scrubbed Theo’s house with a determined fury every day. She boiled all their woollen clothes over the fire until they were shrunken and stiff, and Theo forbade her to touch another of his garments. Then, from somewhere, she procured tunics and shifts of linen for them that were far cooler to wear, and could be washed as often as she pleased.

“All this washing and cleaning is not groom’s work, Emma,” Theo remonstrated. “People will think you odd.”

“They already think so.” Emma shrugged. “That is of no importance.”

Thanks either to her industry or plain good fortune, Theo and Emma survived. Amalric also made it through the epidemic unscathed—and without Emma’s obsessive cleanliness, he was quick to point out.

“The devil takes care of his own, they say,” Emma replied with a sniff.

But the nobles still delayed their departure to Jerusalem. Summer ended and the cooler winds of winter began to blow.

“Our leaders fight constantly among themselves,” Theo told Emma bitterly. “The emperor has sent word that now, after we have secured the city without any help from him,
now
he will come to Antioch. And our princes will not budge until he arrives.”

“Why do they so wish to see him?” Emma asked. “I thought the only thing they could agree on was their hatred of him.”

“Oh, they hate him well enough,” Theo replied. “But he will undoubtedly bring rich gifts and rewards, and none of them wish to be done out of their share of that.”

“Have you heard?” Amalric asked one morning as he joined Theo and the count for their first meal. “Jerusalem has been taken from the Turks by the Egyptians—the Fatimids!”