‘We return to Antioch on the morrow.’
‘The towers?’ Tancred asked.
‘Will be garrisoned,’ his uncle replied, in what was near to a shout; he wanted them all to know.
The year had turned before the princes gathered at a town called Rugia, in the Ruj Valley south of Antioch, called there by a request from Raymond of Toulouse, who had spent the month of December at Ma’arrat an-Numan, despite the fact that Bohemund’s men still held a large section of the walls. The garrison could now worship, like the mass of pilgrims still there, in churches that had once been mosques, as they waited with open impatience for the march on Jerusalem to recommence.
All the magnates complied with Raymond, for what was obviously going to be an attempt to broker some kind of agreement. Bohemund was aware, if the others were in ignorance, that the Count of Toulouse had not just sought to turn Ma’arrat into a Christian enclave. His men had ridden out from there to take a firm grip on the surrounding countryside, he being eager to continue in his quest to isolate Antioch from the regions to the south.
Expecting Raymond to use that to again insist that Antioch should be held for Byzantium, what he did offer, once he had finished boasting of his exploits and laid strongly the case for a march on Jerusalem, came as a surprise.
‘My Lords, such an endeavour we cannot undertake in a like manner that has got us this far in our quest.’ That had the Duke of Normandy and Godfrey de Bouillon shifting uncomfortably: Raymond was about to openly vie for the leadership and his next words proved such suspicions correct. ‘I am, amongst you, the most potent in terms of men, and none, I can assure you, are ahead of me in purpose.’
To pause then was a clever ploy, allowing, as it did, his fellow princes to adopt looks that presaged refusal.
‘Yet I am aware also that we have come from Constantinople and succeeded by collective opinion. Therefore I cannot ask of you that you hand to me command of our enterprise merely for the fact that I can put more lances in the field than all of you here assembled.’
‘Many of whom you have seduced from our service with promises of silver and the power of your relic.’
The Duke of Normandy was scowling as he said this and if the likes of Godfrey de Bouillon remained silent his expression alone demonstrated that he too shared the same sentiment.
‘I have only ever sought that we have the means to fulfil our vow, and in order that we do so I am willing to extend to you, my fellow princes, the same, based on that which you can bring to the campaign, which we must, in all conscience, pursue.’
There was uncertainty then, those he was addressing unsure what it was he was offering and again Raymond used a long pause to heighten the tension.
‘To you, My Lords of Normandy and Lower Lorraine, I offer ten thousand silver solidi each, to the Count of Flanders six thousand to serve under my banner.’
‘Nothing for me?’ Bohemund enquired, a smile playing on his lips.
‘To do so would be to waste my breath, Count Bohemund, but I am prepared to offer your nephew five thousand solidi to take service with me.’
All eyes turned to Tancred, who was close to a blush, for to a man of his standing it was a lot of silver and he was near to being ranked with the Count of Flanders, so the temptation to grab what was offered was high. Fortunately, Godfrey de Bouillon spoke then, which allowed the young man to remain silent.
‘You do not see this, Count Raymond, as flying in the face of the spirit of the Crusade?’
‘I see it, Duke Godfrey, as a means to break an impasse that has held us in Syria too long. If we cannot serve for faith, then let those amongst you who are tempted to serve for a less Christian motive come with me, for I intend to march on my own if that is required. What matters is not why we act but that we do so, for at our rear are the men we lead, who cannot understand the delay and that takes no account of the mass of pilgrims, who clamour only to attain the goal for which they have given up everything they possess.’
‘Surely you do not seek an answer here and now?’
‘No, but I would want it soon for I have made my plans to march south within the week and I will not delay.’
There was a telling response to that: was Raymond speaking truthfully or bluffing? Was this just a ploy to isolate Bohemund or did he genuinely wish to march on to Jerusalem at the head of the Crusade? Judging by the faces of his fellow magnates, and such was the mistrust that had grown up between them, they were ruminating on both possibilities without being able to come to a conclusion.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
With the conference concluded most of the princes, Toulouse excluded, returned to Antioch, with Tancred uncomfortable and making a poor fist of concealing it. If he looked to his uncle for a way to proceed he was sadly disappointed: Bohemund would not advise him, seeking to avoid the subject and only saying when forced to comment that his nephew should look to the dictates of his own conscience, that even more unsettled on the news that the Duke of Normandy, hitherto one of the most vocal in complaint against Raymond of Toulouse and his habit of bribery, had accepted his offer.
If that came as a real surprise, it had to be recalled that, in order to fund his personal Crusade and assure the adherence of his knights, Duke Robert had mortgaged his Normandy holdings, as well as the income thereof, to his brother the King of England for a hundred thousand crowns, a sum long ago consumed; Robert Curthose was a man with few options when it came to the revenues required to fulfil his vow and in his case plunder had been in short supply.
The news regarding Normandy was followed by an equally surprising defection: Robert of Flanders, who had supported Raymond at both the sieges of Albara and Ma’arrat an-Numan, arrived from Rugia having declined to follow the lead of his brother-in-law and flatly, even insultingly, refused the offer from his erstwhile ally.
‘How do you think he feels,’ Bohemund enquired, when his nephew questioned the Flanders decision, ‘when having given such faithful service and suffered the excess of Raymond’s pride for many a month, he is ranked as worth only a thousand solidi more than you?’
Tancred’s response was mordant. ‘I think, in truth, neither of us count for much.’
‘Your greater worth lies in your connection to me.’
‘Something I am being asked to sunder.’
‘Which is of the greater concern to you, nephew,’ Bohemund replied, with an enigmatic grin, ‘your soul or your bloodline?’
That was said in such a way as to preclude one question, but not another. ‘What of Duke Godfrey?’
The reply was emphatic. ‘He too will decline.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘To be paid to regain Jerusalem would, in his mind, sully the endeavour, and for Godfrey purity of motive is paramount. Besides, with his brother Baldwin to back him, and through that the revenues of Edessa, he does not want for silver or support.’
‘They are not close, Godfrey and Baldwin; indeed, I was of the opinion, more than once, they came close to loathing each other.’
‘What heir to a fiefdom loves his lord?’
That, a reference to the fact that Godfrey was childless and his brother next in line to the ducal title of Lower Lorraine, raised another question never addressed and one that would not be raised now: Bohemund, too, lacked an heir and many supposed that Tancred was close enough both in blood and friendship to the Count of Taranto to be next in line to succeed him in Apulia.
‘You think Baldwin will support him. If he does I am curious to understand why.’
That got a rousing laugh, loud enough to echo off the battlements of Antioch. ‘If you are waiting for me to say to you blood is thicker than water, Tancred, you will wait in vain.’