In the first months the Crusaders had quickly consumed the kind of surplus that grew over years of peaceful agriculture, then thanks to their own self-indulgence they had lived, or was it survived, a winter of dearth that had not spared the people who lived there. Fertile the Antiochene plain might be but to keep the army fed prior to the harvest would impose too much of a burden, and to forage in the old manner — to take what they wanted without payment — was no longer fitting.
‘What do you suggest, Count Bohemund?’ Raymond asked, his smile one of scorn. ‘That we all move away and leave you behind?’
‘No. I think that our good Bishop, with enough men, can hold Antioch and control both the city and the immediate countryside with a few hundred lances, for there is no threat to speak of. For the rest, we should disperse and maintain our forces in lands that have suffered less deprivation, which will also go some way to asserting our right to rule over the littoral.’
‘Which,’ Godfrey de Bouillon added in a deeply serious tone, ‘will also help to keep our lances from mischief.’
To the pious Duke of Lower Lorraine that meant temptations of the flesh as much as anything else — he was strong against debauchery and forceful in imposing piety — yet it was a sound notion without those activities: if they were not going to march on to Jerusalem for near to four months, then to leave their men idle in the region was asking for trouble, an inactive army being a unmanageable one.
The longer they were not employed in fighting the more harm they would do and not just by waywardness. Morale would plummet, inter-nationality rivalry would increase and what were now minor grievances would grow in the telling to become a collective difficulty.
‘I am happy to accept my part of the Count of Taranto’s proposition,’ said Ademar.
‘My nephew, Tancred, had some success in Cilicia and holds title to the city of Mamistra. Good sense dictates, given that the Emperor has abandoned and scorched the region to the north of his possessions, that such an area be made secure for us all, not just my own flesh and blood.’
If Bohemund’s expression was one of bland unconcern, that fooled no one. The intentions of Alexius Comnenus were unknown: yes, he had retired to Nicaea but that was bound to be before he heard the news that Antioch had been secured. This would not be long in reaching his ears, with Vermandois, accompanied by the Lord of Hainault, well on the way to conveying information of their astounding victory.
What would he then do, march south at once to stake his claim to what they had captured? If he did, Bohemund would be in a strong position to both take control of events and either prevent further progress or negotiate; he could block the narrow pass known as the Cilician Gates and, if he lacked the strength to hold it, extract from the Emperor personal concessions to allow him through so that the Byzantines would avoid a lengthy circular detour.
‘Count Raymond, you controlled the Ruj Valley before we besieged Antioch and in that region you have interests which you might see the need to enforce.’
‘I see many things that need to be enforced, Count Bohemund.’
‘The pity being, My Lord, that what a man wants he does not always get, even if he feels he has a special blessing from God.’
That was a reference to the way Raymond was exploiting the Holy Lance to his own ends, the effect of which, among the superstitious elements of the soldiery, would be diminished by dispersal.
‘I could take the road to Edessa,’ Godfrey interjected quickly.
This was done as much to prevent the insults flying as to agree the wisdom of a move to the north-east, yet he too was being disingenuous. His younger brother held Edessa and his power and influence had grown by first defying a siege by Kerbogha, added to his tightening grip of the surroundings, for if Baldwin was a man of doubtful morals — many said none — he was a good fighter, had a sharp brain and he knew how to exploit a thriving region; if there was luck in his prosperity there was also ability. For the Crusade, Godfrey moving into his lands would secure the whole north-eastern flank.
The discussion was not brief, it could not be with so many competing interests, made more telling by the mutual dislike of Raymond and Bohemund, but eventually it was resolved. Robert of Flanders would join with Raymond, taking with him the bulk of his brother-in-law’s Normans. The Duke himself would stay with the small garrison and aid Ademar in the administration of a city much ravaged by recent events, albeit the Apulians would garrison the citadel and Toulouse would continue to hold those parts of the city and outside he had seized after Bohemund’s victory. Thus the lines of their dispute remained unresolved.
To get away from Antioch and the rest of the crusading army, riding north into a country unravaged by war, where food was plentiful for a sizeable but not massive force, was in itself a blessing. It was not just the magnates who had quarrels: petty many of them might be amongst knights, but they were prevalent and would fester if the men were not kept apart. Shared blood did not soothe Norman rivalry and the men from Apulia were wont to tease their northern brethren about being backward, the Lombard levies of foot soldiers assuming airs with both.
The high-and-mighty French hated any who bordered on their lands, for they had been fighting them all their days, and were quick to condescend to everyone, Normans, Angevins, Provencals and the Lotharingians, while no contingent could ever be content that others had fought as hard in the Great Battle of Antioch as they. Naturally, each wanted to lay claim to the victory and sometimes it went as far as accusations of some folk being shy of a real contest.
This slight was mostly aimed at the Apulians who had formed their leader’s reserve; with their fiery blood that was not an accusation to be taken lying down. Distance was the best remedy to prevent a war of words descending to a contest with weapons and that went higher than the ordinary lance; several captains had nearly come to a contest, the tale of one such being related to Bohemund now.
‘It started as a jest,’ Tancred exclaimed. ‘But it did not stay that way and Reinhard of Toul has come to be near insufferable since he did your bidding. I was sore tempted to beat my sword about his swollen head.’
‘Then may the good Lord send him a reverse to dent his pride,’ Bohemund replied in a soothing tone, well aware that his nephew was upset, having fought as hard as anyone in that desperate battle and with many a cut and bruise to prove it. ‘There is nothing like it to bring a man down to earth. The Greek word is “hubris”, as I know to my cost.’
No man likes to recall his failures and Bohemund was no exception, but the word left him no option. He lapsed into silence with his nephew who, knowing him well, was sure he had fallen, as he did sometimes, to reviewing every one of his reverses, some of them imposed on him by his own uncle, Roger of Sicily, which if they had never been bloody routs had been disappointments. More often the occasion of uncomfortable parley, they had led to him having to give up lands he had conquered.
Worse in memory were those occasions when Alexius Comnenus had bested him in the previous decade, during the two Apulian invasions of Byzantine territory set in motion by his father. If Alexius had never driven the Apulians from his soil by military ability, the Emperor, with his bottomless chests of gold, had managed to fend off his enemies. Twice gold was sent to the Duke of Apulia’s contentious subjects to encourage them to rebel, thus forcing the Guiscard to depart the campaign to control his own rebellious barons.
On the second invasion Bohemund had been left in command and had pushed forward through Macedonia and on to the borders of Thessaly, inflicting several defeats on the Byzantines. Yet the deeper he forced his way into the lands of Romania the greater his problems became: supply, losses to fighting and disease, not to mention the odd desertion from a host that was fighting for personal gain, not loyalty to the cause of the de Hautevilles.