How obvious it was when they passed into the territory of another ruler. There was no food awaiting them as they camped, although that mattered less now, for they were reduced in need and also in a terrain as yet untouched by warfare. If there was no food in the fields or fruit on the trees there were peasant storerooms full of the harvest of the previous year and, now that the promise Raymond had made no longer constrained them, those he led could indulge in all the acts that had previously been denied to them.
Never had the reputation of the Crusade been so forcibly established as when they came to the city of Raphania, the next on their line of march, set on a slight elevation overlooking a wide plain full of productive fields and orchards that ran close to the defences, with distant hills to feed the streams that irrigated the soil.
At long sight the high walls, bright cream stone shining bright in the sun, looked formidable enough to promise a siege of some duration. Raymond, Robert of Normandy and Tancred donned their mail and rode forward with their personal retainers, having ordered that camp be set up, anticipating perhaps that emissaries would emerge from the gate towards which they were headed to meet them in the open and discuss the same kind of peace they had just had from the Emir of Shaizar. They even halted well short of that gate to allow such messengers to make their way, but none appeared, so Raymond spun his own horse to talk to his fellow leaders.
‘I would hope that they accept terms.’
‘Can we bypass them?’ asked Normandy. ‘A siege could mightily weaken us.’
That sent Raymond’s head onto his chest, for it was not a ridiculous suggestion. Besieging both Albara and Ma’arrat had taken time, led to losses in men, and at the latter resulted in an even more telling wound to morale, and if there was food now in peasant holdings, to stay in the area would soon see it stripped as bare as any terrain supporting a winter siege.
Nothing they had heard indicated that the Emir of Raphania was a warlike individual, indeed he was akin to his compatriot in Shaizar, a tribute-paying Turkish satrap whose main desire, it was likely, was to be left in peace. To have such a ruler on the line of communication with Antioch and the other contingents might not pose too much of a threat.
Tancred spoke up, as was his right. ‘We would have to leave behind some men to mask the city, which would perhaps weaken us more than fighting. If they are not inclined to a stubborn resistance we may overcome the walls with a quick assault.’
‘That is so,’ Raymond said, more to himself than to Tancred. ‘But my Lord of Normandy is nearer to being right, I think: better we progress on our way, perhaps, than linger here.’
Aware that the younger man did not wholeheartedly agree, Raymond added, ‘We will give them terms and then judge from their response. If it is pure defiance, then we must overcome them, for that means they will seek to raid our rear once we pass. If they seek naught but to be left untroubled then …’
There was no finishing that, for it was unnecessary. Raymond spun his mount once more and led the way to a point close enough to the walls where his voice could carry, and there he demanded to speak with someone who would both understand him and pass on his words to the ruler of the city. The call floated upwards, but no head appeared at the battlements to even acknowledge their presence and that was repeated on the second call.
‘Go forward,’ Raymond said, to a pair of his familia knights, ‘and see if your being close tempts them to react.’
Up till now the whole party had been bareheaded; the men ordered to move were quick to don their hauberks and helmets, as well as ensure they had a good grip on the shields they would need to raise quickly should any arrows, the first line of any defence, come their way. They advanced one step at a time, their mounts under stern control, in an eerie silence, waiting for the yell that would bring up the Arabs from behind their walls to rain missiles in their direction.
No bolts came their way, nor when they moved closer did a single lance fly over the walls, even when they were in easy range. It was with due trepidation that they approached the gate, heads stretched back to keep a sharp eye on the high twin towers that enclosed it, and still there was nothing. One knight spun his lance and used the haft to bang upon the wood of the high door, the thuds echoing back to his confused leaders.
When that too got no response he spurred his horse slightly forward until both it and he were up against the gate and pressing. Even if it was heavy and studded with iron bolts, it swung a fraction, which had both knights pushing in a blink. The gate swung open enough to create a gap, which had both men immediately spur their mounts away, for there had to be danger behind that.
‘If it is a trap to ensnare us, it is a cunning one,’ Normandy said.
‘Every one of you forward,’ Raymond ordered.
He did not mean the leaders, so the knights led by Normandy and Tancred looked to their own masters for permission to obey, which was quickly forthcoming. It was now a strong party of thirty mailed and helmeted men that went for the gate, there to join the pair already present. With still no reaction, two of Tancred’s Apulians dismounted and put their shoulders to the wood and with a creak of unoiled hinges it swung wide open until it hit the interior walls.
‘Plague,’ Duke Robert hissed, crossing himself.
‘Do you see any dead?’ Raymond shouted, getting a negative response.
Now the knights had both gates open and before the leaders, once their men had stood aside so they could see, lay a deserted and long cobbled avenue, lined with buildings, of the kind that formed a main route into many a city they had seen on the Crusade. Raymond spurred his own mount, followed in a blink by his confreres, and they rode through their own knights, under the gate barbican, their hooves echoing on the stones of the pave.
Still with proper caution they advanced into the dark gully formed by the high buildings that enclosed the roadway, past open doorways, fearful that a screaming mob of armed men might at any second appear from the side alleys to assault them, in their breasts still recalling the terror in Normandy’s voice when he mentioned that the city might be ravaged by disease.
‘Nothing,’ Tancred said. ‘Not a soul.’
Then he shouted, which coming without warning spooked not only his own horse but also those of Normandy and Toulouse, which got him an angry growl from the latter. All he could do in response to that was laugh, first a chuckle, then louder and louder until the sound echoed through the streets, that fading when they entered an equally deserted square hemmed in by more imposing buildings that spoke of the centre of authority. Raphania was abandoned; fearing massacre, it was now obvious: the population high and low had fled.
‘I suggest, Lord Raymond, that we have no need to camp when we have a whole city in which we might contentedly spend the night.’
‘Lances first, Tancred, let us see if when they fled they took with them everything of value.’
The pickings proved to be meagre in terms of plunder, the flight of the population having clearly been well organised, but there were storerooms full of food too heavy or bulky to bear away, so it was a comfortable place to rest for a short period while some of that was consumed, with care taken that enough was brought to a central point so as to provide the supplies needed for the onward march.
There was some discontent: without seeking permission, parties of lances set out to search the nearby countryside, the distant hills especially, in a search for the Emir of Raphania and the chests of gold they were sure he had taken with him, even to find the more lowly, the traders who might have about them money or possessions to steal. It proved fruitless: no firelit encampment was visible and the caves they found were as empty as the land around them. It was as if the inhabitants of the city had been spirited away by some divine power.