Shadows on a Sword (9 page)

“That will show the Turks who they are up against,” Amalric gloated, his eyes shining. Then his voice turned heavy with jealousy. “Next time, we must be the ones who fight! They cannot keep us from them now!”

Theo could not answer. Although he was as disappointed as Amalric at not having been part of the battle, he could not get the image of the bloody, impaled heads out of his mind. The taste of bile rose sour in his mouth and he swallowed it down. What was the matter with him, anyway? Did he, after all, have too weak a stomach for a man?

“We suffered many losses,” he said finally, but there was a quiver in his voice. “The count of Ghent was killed, I heard.”

Only the night before, Theo had seen the count, a slight, quiet man, sitting alone in front of his tent, pensive in the light from his fire. Emma had told him that the count was a great storyteller. Godvere’s children would listen to him, entranced, for hours.

“Losses!” Amalric sneered. “Of course there were losses. There is no battle without them.” He looked at Theo, his eyes piercing, almost suspicious. “You speak weakly for a knight, my friend.”

Theo bristled. His thoughts of the moment before made his voice suddenly harsh. “Do you question my courage?” he snapped. “I am no more afraid of battle than you.”

“Of course not,” Amalric replied, taken aback. A conciliatory smile immediately replaced the sneer. “Of course not. And we shall see great battles together, you and I. It is our destiny.” He threw his arm around Theo’s shoulders. “We are going to be heroes, you and I, Theo. We will fight nobly, for fame and glory.” “What about for God?” Theo asked. “Of course,” Amalric replied quickly. “And for God.”

Robert of Normandy finally arrived with his brother-in-law, Stephen, count of Blois, and his cousin Robert, count of Flanders.

“Stephen did not want to come at all,” Emma informed Theo, “but his wife forced him to.”

With their arrival, the great crusading armies were now all assembled. They dug in, and the siege of Nicaea began in earnest.

T
heo sat in on the plans for the taking of Nicaea. He soon realized the difficulties facing them.

“The fortifications of the city are formidable,” Duke Godfrey told them. “We have sent some of Alexius’s engineers in to dig under the walls during the day to undermine them. We’ve even lit a huge fire under the southern tower. But at night the Turks just repair whatever damage we manage to inflict.” He paced back and forth within the narrow confines of his tent. “Worst of all,” he continued, “the city is still open to the lake on its western side. They can receive all the supplies they want that way.”

“We need boats,” Count Garnier said.

“The emperor Alexius has promised to send them. When he does, we can close off the city from the lake,” Godfrey replied. “Until then, we can do nothing.”

When the boats finally arrived, under the command of the emperor’s most trusted engineer, Butumites, Amalric was first with the news to Theo.

“Now,” Amalric gloated, “now we can attack, and this time, there will be no denying us. This time, we will fight!”

But when the morning of the planned attack dawned, the crusaders awoke to see the flag of the imperial emperor Alexius flying over the city. The Turks had surrendered to Butumites! His forces had entered the city through the lakeside gates during the night, and the city had been handed over to them.

“It is treachery, pure and simple!” Godfrey exploded, as his knights assembled around him in a hastily called meeting. “Butumites dealt directly with the city; he told us nothing of his dealings. And now he has taken the city for himself!”

Beside him, his brother Baldwin glowered. There was treasure beyond compare in that city—all of it now out of reach of the crusaders.

Tempers were not assuaged by the sight of Turkish nobles being escorted out of the city to safety by the emperor’s troops.

“They’ve been allowed to buy their freedom—all the nobles and the court officials,” Amalric told Theo. “The sultana and her children were escorted to Constantinople and received by the emperor with full honors. All the ransom money has gone to fill
his
coffers. Baldwin is almost inside-out with fury.”

Gifts of food arrived from the emperor for every soldier on the crusade. All the leaders received gold and jewels from the sultan’s treasury, but these presents were not enough.

“Treason!” The word resounded throughout the camp. “We were the ones who set up the siege. We were the ones who fought the sultan and defeated him. The city should have been ours. The emperor has betrayed us!” Nevertheless, with the capture of Nicaea, word went out that the crusade was a success, and recruits poured into the camps.

They left Nicaea and took the old Byzantine main road across Asia Minor to the Sangarius River, then left the river to climb up a tributary valley to the south. The way was easy and, as they climbed into the hills, the early summer’s heat was tempered by a constant breeze. Numerous springs gushed out of the hillsides to quench the thirst of beasts and humans alike. They feared no attack along this stretch, and although scouts were still sent out, discipline relaxed somewhat. Theo rode often with Amalric, but he also managed to find excuses to fall back and ride with Emma as well. Emma caused something of a scandal by choosing to ride horseback, rather than in the wagon with Godvere and her children. Godvere objected furiously, but for some reason Baldwin found the situation amusing and overrode his wife’s objections.

“She is, after all, a distant kinswoman of mine,” Baldwin announced. “She is entitled to her own will.” This was the first time he had ever acknowledged that Emma was more than a servant. When Theo heard this news, he was taken aback.

“Why did you not tell me you were kin to Lord Baldwin?” he demanded as they rode together one day.

“I am very distantly related,” Emma replied. “Our family fell on hard times back in the days of my father’s father. We have never begged a thing of Lord Baldwin, and he had never seen fit to offer anything—until he sent word that he needed a nursemaid for his children on this crusade.”

“But it is not fitting. The whole world thinks you are a servant.”

“And a servant I am. I am quite content with it. I’m grateful, in fact, for the opportunity to earn my own way in the world and not be a burden to my poor parents, who have a swarm of other mouths to feed.” The words were tart. Emma’s face took on an irritated expression that warned Theo off.

“I think, too, my lord may have his own reasons for humoring me,” Emma continued. The irritation vanished and her lips twisted into a wry smile.

“And what would they be?” Theo asked.

“He has been very friendly toward me lately,” Emma replied. “More so when we are out of sight of Godvere’s wagon. When he rides beside me, his hand will sometimes stray to settle upon my leg.”

Theo scowled. “You allow such impertinence?” he asked.

“Impertinence? I am, in fact, his servant, distant relation or not. I owe him a debt. No behavior of his toward me could possibly be considered impertinence.”

At this, Theo straightened in his saddle and turned to glare at her. “He has no right.”

Emma, however, seemed much less concerned. She laughed. “Don’t puff yourself up so, you’re worrying your horse. I am well able to take care of myself, thank you, and always have been, but I do it in my own way. It does not serve me to make an enemy of him.”

“But still …” Theo protested.

“I have perfected a trick of tickling my dear mare with the toe of my shoe in just the right spot to make her shy suddenly,” Emma replied calmly. “It invariably takes me out of reach. My lord cannot understand why such a gentle creature is the victim of such nerves. He has even offered to procure me a steadier nag but I, of course, would not dream of allowing him to go to the trouble.”

Theo looked at her. He had been thinking of casually reaching for her hand sometime as they rode together, but he reconsidered. He decided it was a risk better not taken.

The army wound its way slowly through a pass in the hills. The crusaders reached the Blue River and paused there to reassemble. A small Byzantine detachment under one of the emperor’s most experienced generals, Taticius, joined them. The detachment, war-blooded soldiers all, was welcome, but many muttered that Taticius was no more than the emperor’s spy. By the bridge at Leuce, on the Blue River, the leaders decided to divide the army into two sections to facilitate travel, the first to precede the second by a day’s interval. The French and the Lorrainers were to be in the second.

Amalric and Theo lounged together by the remains of Theo’s morning campfire and watched the vanguard leave with a shared resentment. Although it meant only a day’s delay, they chafed at it. It was the first truly hot day of summer and the heat was bothersome. Small insects flew around their heads incessantly, tormenting them.

“If there is any action, they will be the first to see it,” Amalric grumbled, swatting at a fly. “They will take all the spoils before we even arrive.”

“Spoils!” Theo retorted. “Is that all you think of? You are as bad as Baldwin.” The heat and the delay had irritated him so much that he spoke without thinking. He scratched furiously at an itch that was just out of reach below the neck of his leather jerkin. Although the hour was early, sweat was already pouring into his eyes.

“You think yourself such a noble crusader,” Amalric shot back, “yet I did not see you refusing your share of the rewards the emperor passed out to us at Nicaea.”

Theo jumped to his feet. “A bit of food and a ring! Not so much to accuse me for.”

“If there had been more for you, you would have taken it,” Amalric said.

“I do not fight for spoils.” Theo’s anger blazed. “And in this most holy of all wars, all I have heard so far is bickering about what there is to be gained! I want to fight, not loot.”

“You rarely have one without the other, and more thanks for that, I say.” Amalric rose to his feet as well, and faced Theo. “You’ll see. You’ll take your fair share when the time comes and bargain for as much more as you can get. You’re no different from the rest of us. Except, of course, for your taste in riding companions.” He cast a sly glance at Theo, then went on. “For a quick snuggle at night, that I could understand, but to ride with a servant girl during the day, as if she were your equal … You make yourself ridiculous there, my friend.”

Theo felt the blood rush to his head. There was a quick pressure, a pounding in his ears. His dagger was suddenly in his hand, the point at Amalric’s throat.

Amalric took a step backward. His hand went for his own dagger, and then he stopped. His eyes were suddenly as black as stones.

“You would be wise to sheath that, my friend.”

Reason returned to Theo like a douse of cold water. He thrust the dagger back into his belt. Pride, however, would not let him apologize.

“You are too free with your opinions,
my
friend,” he said.

For a moment, they glared at each other. A voice from the path beyond the campsite startled them both.

“What’s this? My two pups snarling at each other? Good, I say. You’ll be in fine fettle for the battles to come.” A tall figure strode across the clearing toward them. It was Godfrey himself. “And there will be battles, my bloodthirsty young men, trust me. You will have more opportunities than you can count to bloody your swords in the service of Christ. Keep your mettle up, but do not go too far. I will not have fighting within my ranks, remember that.” The words were light, but underlaid with iron. In two easy strides, he was across the campsite and heading up the path to his own tent.

He left a silence behind him. Then Amalric spoke.

“I take back my words,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Your preferences are your own business. Still … ,” he threw his arm around Theo’s shoulders in his old familiar way and his face relaxed into a smile, “if it’s servant girls you like, come with me after we sup tonight. There is a certain wench in the duke’s party …”

Theo forced himself not to stiffen under Amalric’s touch.

Amalric prattled on. “The duke was right,” he said. “We need a battle! That is the trouble with us. We are, after all, friends, are we not?”

Theo detached himself. “Yes, of course,” he said. If he hesitated, Amalric did not seem to notice it.

It crossed Theo’s mind to blurt out that Emma was no mere serving girl, that she was kin, even if distant, to Baldwin, but he kept silent. Emma did not need him to defend her. In fact, he felt certain she would flay him alive for trying it.

They forged on steadily for the next two days. On the evening of the second, their half of the army had gained on the first contingent, and was within a half day’s march from where it was camped, near a town called Dorylaeum. The mood in Godfrey’s camp was easier now. The next morning, however, the priests’ prayers and the bustle of making ready for departure were interrupted by the arrival of a scout. The horse he was riding was covered in foam and staggering. It foundered even as the man rode up beside Godfrey’s tent. He threw the reins to a nearby groom and dashed in, unannounced. Theo and Amalric, waiting nearby, were astounded at the man’s impudence, but within seconds the duke was outside, roaring for the other leaders to assemble.

“The first section has been attacked!” The word spread like wildfire. “The sultan laid an ambush for them and attacked this morning at sunrise!”

Count Garnier burst out of his tent and ran for his horse.

“To me, Theo!” he cried.

All over the camp, the morning routine was broken by shouts and roared commands. The knights and their mounted soldiers galloped off, leaving the foot soldiers and archers to follow at a double-march behind. The rest of the camp was in total confusion.

Theo rode at Count Garnier’s right hand. Gritting his teeth against the bone-shattering pounding of Centurion’s hooves, he checked that his sword was holstered securely, readjusted his dagger and settled his shield more firmly into his left shoulder. At last! The blood sang through his veins.

Godfrey and Hugh of Vermandois led. When they slowed down to give the chargers a rest, the horses, as frenzied as the knights themselves, tossed their manes, rolled their eyes wildly and tore at their bits.