Soldier of Crusade (13 page)

Those bodies littering the platform became a problem for the attack as well, for to keep going they were required to step over recumbent bodies and not all of them were still, while the platform was now awash too with blood, making it slippery; a foot in the wrong place would bring a Norman fighter down and that, by creating a dog-leg,
could jeopardise the whole if those in the second line failed to rapidly fill the vacated space. Also, some fires had taken hold below and the burning reeds were sending up clouds of acrid smoke, which hampered easy breathing for men who were exerting themselves to the maximum.

The greatest execution was being carried out by the pair of swordsmen with the longest reach, Bohemund and Tancred, with the former, his throat dry and hoarse, calling at intervals for the line to take a forward step, never more than that. As well as fighting to the front there were two other problems to deal with: the need to despatch or make still those Turks who had fallen but could still use their weapons achieved with a swift downward jab of a blade followed by a hefty foot being used to tip them, if they were close to the edge of the platform, over the edge. The fate of those they were obliged to step over was taken care of by their confrères, two of whom had been obliged to move up into the front line to replace wounded Normans.

The whole siege tower was rocking slightly as the support knights, the men of Provence, hurried up to await the point where they could get to the battlements and spread out, those rendered invisible because of what lay before them. In their eagerness they pressed upon Bohemund’s second line, driving it forward until the space within which they could swing their weapons, should a thing be needed, was severely constrained, which had some of Bohemund’s men turning to threaten to use those same instruments on their allies.

Bohemund shouted and that was the signal to push forward regardless; weight of numbers would get them off the platform and onto the stonework, for, in front, attack and defence were now so compressed as to have rendered the assault a pushing match, with a line of Norman shields now the most effective weapon. The
Turks were obliged to balance on the thickness of their own wall, a precarious place from which to fight an opponent of greater weight and reach. No doubt on a command they dropped back onto the wooden parapet and in another directive fell back a little to allow pikes to be used by those supporting them, one of which caught an unwary Norman; a hefty jab sent him spinning off the platform into thin air.

Bohemund and Tancred had split apart, creating space for the support to move up and broaden the fighting line, the men on the outer rim, supported by crossbows, required to keep extending it so that the Provençal knights could get into the fray. Conscious of the need for command, Bohemund called to Tancred to take control and eased himself back onto the platform, with some difficulty pushing through the crush of mailed knights. He hurried up to the very top level, from where he could see how the attack was faring and as of that moment it looked good.

It was the commander of the Genoese crossbowmen who pointed out where the hazard lay. Again Acip Bey had shown cunning in seeking to thwart the attack. No doubt assessing that a siege tower with outriggers set and jammed into the ground could not be toppled, he had set his grappling hooks to take away that support. In what must have been dozens of attempts he had been successful in removing one of the long steadying poles on the south side, then he had used massed archers and hot pitch and oil to stop it being replaced.

That left on that side of the siege tower only the one outrigger, with Bohemund able to clearly see the men recasting the grappling hook and trying to snare the remaining pole. That obliged him to withdraw the crossbowmen from supporting his knights to impeding those efforts; take away that pole and those same hooks, if they got
a purchase on any of the main beams of the tower itself, in a place where they could not be dislodged or their ropes cut, could haul the whole thing over, which would cause havoc and much death to those on it and still inside. Certainly the men on the very top, bowmen and knights, would be lucky to survive, while the men who had made the walls would be stranded and no doubt die where they stood.

It was another testimony to the courage of the defenders that even under a hail of crossbow bolts they continued to try and sling their grappling irons and that brought admiration for the ability to offer oneself up regardless of the risk, the very quality that leaders like Bohemund looked for in his own ranks, and he judged it only a matter of time before they succeeded.

Below and in front the attack had stalled, not through any lack of courage or effort but because the fighting was more evenly matched, numerous pikes as well as swordsmen against knights who had a lesser reach than the former and were, as had the Turks been before them, vulnerable to being pitched off the battlements. It was also obvious the Provençal knights lacked the fighting discipline of the Normans – they let gaps appear in their ranks and were suffering because of it, which was diminishing the power of the attack.

The judgement of whether a battle is heading towards success or failure is a fine one and, if asked in repose, Bohemund would have replied it was instinctive, a feeling rather than a certain knowledge. At this moment it was very finely poised; the men for whom he was responsible were not falling back but neither were they advancing at a speed which presaged an imminent collapse, in truth they were inching forward into a situation in which the odds, man for man, would increase; the Turks could bring more men to bear than could he.

Even if he knew nothing of the Genoese tongue, he knew a curse
when he heard one and he followed the pointing finger of the leading crossbowman to a see grappling hook round that second outrigging pole and hauling hard. Merely jammed against the siege tower it soon went, to be followed by a hail of small stones fired from Acip’s ballistae, added to a hail of arrows, which precluded any attempt to set it back in place.

When he turned to look back at his fighters, he found himself staring into a very worried Genoese face. Fearing to be misunderstood he gestured that the crossbows should withdraw, which they did with alacrity, just as the first of those grappling hooks, now being thrown with impunity, thudded into the tower, though it failed to take a grip. But there was one other salient fact to take into consideration: get a grip on one side, then pull, and, even if it initially failed, it would dislodge the poles on the other side by the mere release of pressure, which would double the jeopardy.

The hope of an outright victory had always been slim to non-existent, wishful thinking, in fact, if you took into consideration Turkish tenacity. It aided Bohemund’s thinking that he had the reputation he did, which precluded any judgement against his own bravery or experience. They had done enough for this day, learnt a great deal and were now faced with no possibility as he saw it of outright success. Indeed there was a chance of ignominious failure, with not only the men maimed or killed but also the weapon that they were employing destroyed as well.

It took threats to get those knights waiting to be engaged to withdraw with unblooded weapons and a man of less stature would have suffered, but you did not trade words with a giant sporting a ferocious glare. Luckily they were some of the Franks led by Walo of Chaumont, a good soldier who understood his commands. His
men might also have noted that while the Norman leader had taken part in the fight their liege lord was well back observing. His other instruction to them was to get in place the hands needed to haul back the tower.

Then he had to get the Provençals to disengage, which was even harder given many had no common tongue, bar, in their case, a smattering of Latin, this after he had informed Tancred, in tactical control on the battlements and not actually now fighting, of his intention, using shouted words the Turks would not comprehend. Men were set on the ropes that would haul up the screen and told to be ready, while the people still fighting were Normans, so he was sure he would have no trouble with them and neither did he.

His next shouted instruction had them taking backwards steps, the execution controlled by inherent discipline rather than actual spoken commands, the whole attack collapsing in on itself until all his men were back on the slippery wooden surface. It was again his voice that had them break off and jog back, the platform hauled up as soon as they had passed the midpoint, though several Turks, who should have known better, sought by their weight to prevent it being raised. Another command had the Normans turn and swiftly despatch them before they again retreated to the main tower.

The screen was hauled up and that was the signal for the ropes to be employed to get the tower clear; slowly it began to move away from walls now lined with the jeering and triumphant enemy.

‘W
e did well,’ Bohemund insisted, to nods from his nephew, standing half to his rear. ‘The Turks suffered more than us and if we had a trio of such towers I am sure, by splitting the defence, we could overcome and get inside the walls. Certainly we would inflict losses on the defenders they could not sustain and that, My Lords, may well bring about the fall of Nicaea.’

He had already outlined the minor modifications that would make the siege towers immune to the threat from those grappling irons, namely proper seating for the stabilising outriggers so they could not be so easily pulled away. Some of the ‘princes’ were nodding, but not all – Vermandois looked as if he was sucking a lemon and had already referred to the way his knights had been sent away without having had a chance to fight. De Bouillon then regretted that his men had never even got to ascend the tower.

Vermandois then changed tack in a bid to censure a Norman he
clearly saw as some kind of rival, making it plain he still hankered after the leadership. ‘You did not adhere to the agreement not to risk our persons, which we did.’

‘No I did not, Count Hugh, but let me tell you this, there are occasions, and there will be more, when that cannot apply and is in fact unwise.’

That got a clerical frown from the Bishop; it had been the papal legate’s suggestion, in fact his injunction, so Bohemund addressed him directly.

‘I do not say, Your Grace, that if I had been absent that disaster would have followed, that the siege tower would have been tipped over, but I put forward the possibility it might.’

‘Anyone could have seen the danger,’ Vermandois insisted.

‘But, Count Hugh, would everyone have acted on it?’

His nostrils flared then. ‘Why would they not?’

‘For fear that they might be thought of as overcautious.’

Try as he might, Bohemund, and he did by speaking softly, could not keep out of his response the implications of that: for all his vainglorious boasting, the brother of the French King lacked experience. He had never been engaged in a conflict where a siege tower was employed, while the man who disobeyed that injunction was close to being the most famous knight in Christendom.

‘I judged that we had done as much as we could and were at risk. I have explained to you how this came about and if I have, in your eyes failed somehow, I am man enough to hear it from your lips.’

Adémar was quick, lest Vermandois say something stupid. ‘No one of sense would express such a thing. If I admit to being irritated when I saw you on the tower, less so that your nephew was with
you, I am now willing to say without equivocation that it was to our benefit that you were.’

‘I am sure I would have done the same had it been I on the tower,’ stated Godfrey emphatically.

‘While I question your conclusions, Count Bohemund.’ Raymond of Toulouse said and that had the two men lock eyes. ‘To build two more towers will take much time and we have been about this business long enough, given our purpose. We must think of Palestine in all this and if we batter ourselves against Nicaea that must impact on our fortunes.’

‘Lord Raymond, should you contrive a better method I am with you. All I have put forward is a personal view, which is the right of every one of us gathered.’

‘More bombardment screens and mining would be quicker.’

‘Even when the Turks merely rebuild what we destroy?’ asked Robert of Normandy.

‘Count Bohemund advances the notion that more siege towers will do the thing, but I say more mining will make it impossible for them to repair all the breeches we make and if one is left undone, that will be our opportunity.’

The Bishop spoke up, as usual his face showing the kind of concern meant to imply he took in all views and gave them equal credence, yet it was obvious to all he generally gave more weight to the man with whom he travelled and the magnate in which his bishopric lay than the others.

‘I see merit in what the Count of Toulouse says.’

‘I side with Count Bohemund,’ said de Bouillon.

Vermandois spoke immediately. ‘And I am with my cousin of Toulouse.’

‘While I,’ Normandy said, ‘wonder what our titular commander thinks?’

All eyes turned to Tacitus, who had been silent throughout, not that anyone noticed; he was a man not of few words but going on none and when he did speak it was through an interpreter, even Greek speakers struggling to comprehend him, while with those who only knew Latin and the Frankish tongue it was essential. What followed seemed to consist of more words employed than he had ever uttered before and watching the face of the interpreter it was obvious that the opinion being advanced was not studded with optimism; the face was a positive picture of impending doom.

‘The
Prōstratōr
wishes to remind you of how many times the forces of the empire have come to these walls in vain. He has watched your efforts with interest—’

That brought a growling interruption from Baldwin of Boulogne. ‘He was supposed to stop us making the same errors as he had previously, not just watch.’

The interpreter stopped, and seeing the leaders react to yet another unwarranted interruption from a person not supposed to speak unless invited to, brought what amounted to an admonishment from Bishop Adémar, though it was voiced in a way that might have indicated the need of prayers for penance to a recalcitrant child.

‘We must, My Lords, abide by the conventions we have set.’

‘What he means, brother,’ de Bouillon snapped, less the diplomat, ‘is you speak through me!’

‘If you spoke enough, I would not have to.’

‘Leave the pavilion.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me, brother,’ Godfrey hissed. ‘Do as I say or by the faith I will send you home.’

That led to a silent stand-off lasting several seconds, but it could have only one outcome. When it came to arguing with his elder sibling Baldwin had no dice to throw. With as much huff as he could muster he strode out through the opening, leaving his brother to apologise for what had occurred.

‘Be assured, My Lords, that Baldwin only acts as he does from an excess of zeal.’

‘You see, Uncle,’ Tancred whispered, ‘being full-blooded brothers does not make for better bedfellows.’

‘Quiet,’ Bohemund insisted, as Adémar indicated the interpreter should continue, though his shaking shoulders showed evidence of amusement.

‘My Lord
Prōstratōr
would point you towards the one wall, for all your strength, you cannot seal.’

‘We are not blind,’ Vermandois scoffed, ‘and we have tried.’

That conveyed to Tacitus, he waved his hand dismissively. The Crusaders had set mangonels on the bank of the lake aimed at the entrance to the watergate. It was a poor weapon to employ because of its inaccuracy, every cast stone being of a different weight and the tension required to create the force to eject it a constant variable, which ensured that so far none had found a floating target.

‘I do believe, My Lords,’ the Bishop said, with a weary expression, ‘that if we wish to hear the views of General Tacitus we should let this fellow convey them.’

‘
Prōstratōr
means stable master does it not?’

Tancred once more hissed this softly, only to get an elbow in the ribs from his uncle, a sign that he should be as silent as Baldwin
should have been, a correction following swiftly in a voice kept at the same whispered level as that of his nephew.

‘Try Master of the Imperial Horse.’

The interpreter took up the translation once more. ‘If you observe the lake, and examine the boats destined for the watergate, you will see that they arrive not only with food but also with men. Later they depart without them, which means, as we of Byzantium found out before you, that you cannot cut the number of the garrison by killing them, for the city will support a certain number of fighters and that will be maintained by the introduction of constant reinforcements.’

‘We have greater numbers than they,’ Raymond asserted. ‘The problem we have is to employ those men in a way that has the desired effect.’

Vermandois was quickly on to that. ‘Man for man, the Turks are no match for us.’

These responses were conveyed to Tacitus, who listened and nodded slowly, before speaking softly, the words following from his mouthpiece.

‘Unless you can walk on water, the
Prōstratōr
says, and you would require the powers of Our Lord Jesus Christ to do so, you will not take Nicaea, for that opening sustains them.’

‘Then we must have boats,’ Tancred said in yet another whisper.

Bohemund spoke out loud, addressing the room. ‘A valid point has just been advanced by my nephew. If we need to stop the flow of supplies to Nicaea and they are coming in on boats, then we have to employ the same means to prevent it.’

‘Boats?’ Vermandois asked, making a great point of looking all around him as though they might be hidden somewhere, which had Bohemund visibly stiffen; he was not to be the butt of any man’s humour.

‘We do not have any boats, Count Bohemund,’ de Bouillon interjected, ‘and even if we have timber we do not have the means, by which I mean the shipwrights, to construct them.’

‘And how long would that take?’ Raymond asked with a shake of his head.

‘Heavenly chariots would be more likely,’ said Normandy.

Feeling that he was being made to look like a fool – even de Bouillon, the man he considered closest to him in thinking, was looking at him askance – Bohemund searched for a solution and only one presented itself.

‘Then the Emperor must provide them.’

The interpreter was conveying what he had said to Tacitus, and soon the
Prōstratōr
’s shoulders, even if he tried to contain it, were shaking so much he felt the need to drop his head to hide his mirth.

‘Have we not put in repairs to his road, so that it is near as good as it was in ancient times?’ Slow nods were the response to that – they were unsure where he was headed, and the road was somewhat less smooth than he was implying. ‘We do not require galleys or even trading vessels, we need small boats of the kind that could be loaded onto a wagon drawn by oxen.’

Toulouse was quick with an observation. ‘The lake boats the Turks employ are larger than that.’

‘And we are, as the Count of Vermandois just said, more than a match for the Turks in one-to-one combat. We do not need to equal their numbers, we merely, as you said, Count Raymond, need to find a way to set our swords against theirs.’

That left the Vermandois in a bind; he was not sure whether to be glad that his words had been quoted or angry with the man who had used them.

‘We would fight them on the water?’ That was a question and one delivered with suitable doubt by Adémar.

‘We would bar them from Nicaea,’ Bohemund insisted, ‘and if they chose to fight I will back my Normans to keep them from ever getting in that which they carry.’

That engendered a jaundiced look from everyone except the Duke Robert and de Bouillon; they were somewhat sick of being told of the fighting qualities of the Normans.

‘No more is required,’ Bohemund added, then he turned to Tacitus and spoke in Greek. ‘A message must be sent to Alexius, your master, at once, demanding he provide boats, the largest he can get on an ox cart, by which we can cut off Nicaea.’

The interpreter replied after his principle had spoken. ‘It cannot be done.’

Bohemund actually laughed out loud, which did not please the Byzantine General, aware that he was being paid back in kind for his earlier mirth. ‘You never met my father,
Prōstratōr
. Those were words of which he did not know the meaning. I will go in person and demand from your master that he accede to our request.’

‘Is it our request, Count Bohemund?’ Robert of Normandy stated, his tone high-handed. ‘I have yet to hear it even discussed, never mind agreed upon.’

The tone of the reply was cold. ‘I await from the son of the Conqueror a better suggestion.’

‘You dare to mention my father?’

‘My Lords,’ Adémar called, soothingly.

He was aware that a dispute was about to break out – the two were looking daggers at each other. The cleric also suspected that what he had heard was true: no Norman willingly bowed the knee to
another, whatever his bloodline. Looking at him Bohemund wondered what he would say if he knew the truth. The same blood ran through de Hauteville veins that ran through those of Robert of Normandy although not Bohemund’s own, for he was descended from his grandfather’s second wife. But the elder Tancred’s first bride had been an illegitimate daughter of Robert’s grandsire and it ill behove the son of William, known in the Duchy as the Bastard of Falaise, to come it high with his family.

‘Forgive me,’ Bohemund responded, suppressing the anger that threatened to break out into open dispute, which took a great deal of effort. ‘I was thinking of my father when I used those words.’

‘An admirable sentiment,’ cried Adémar, with too high a dose of enthusiasm. ‘Who could fault such a sentiment?’

If it did not serve to heal the breech, it was enough to throw a cloak over it.

‘I do believe,’ Vermandois said, ‘that it falls to the man Alexius sent to aid us to ask for that which you propose.’

‘Count Hugh, I have no interest in who asks, only in that the request is met.’

‘The
Prōstratōr
can provide a messenger,’ said Adémar. ‘Perhaps, Count Bohemund, you may add a letter outlining your thinking.’

‘Are they mad, these Westerners?’ asked Manuel Boutoumites, when the Emperor imparted the request from Tacitus to him. ‘Boats?’

‘There is a communication from Bohemund as well.’

‘Which I trust Your Highness will ignore.’

For once Alexius was sharp with a man he held in high esteem. ‘Do not let your hatred blind you to his ability. He is a fine general and a mighty fighter and he is born from a stock that has beaten us at every turn.’

‘Forgive me, Highness,’ Boutoumites replied, his voice humble.

High in favour he might be but the
Curopalates
knew that could be withdrawn at the click of a finger. The monastic poorhouses were not full of those who had fallen from imperial favour, but there were enough inmates, many of them lacking eyes, to induce caution in even the highest-placed courtier.