‘This is insufferable,’ Normandy responded, in a voice very close to a shout.
‘Yet suffer it we must,’ added his brother-in-law with a grin as he sought by a hand to calm Normandy.
The way he had expressed it made Tancred look at Flanders hard. He had the sense that the Count was not truly distressed by Raymond’s attitude, that reinforced when he whispered urgently in Duke Robert’s ear. To that was added silence from the Count of Bearn, which gave another indication of the impression forming in the younger man’s mind.
The only person present who was lacking in ambition was Godfrey, whereas the others present were thinking of their own reputation, none wishing to be tied to a plan that might see another achieve a glory after which any man would hanker, namely to be the first to overcome the defences of Jerusalem, the first knight who could claim to have conquered the city.
The fame that would accrue to that would be massive. Throughout Europe, in every parish church and cathedral the faithful were praying for success. It was a sobering reflection that perhaps what they were about to attempt, and in pursuit of that glory, was likely to be a free-for-all in which individual desire would trump common purpose.
A messenger entering the pavilion interrupted that train of thought. ‘My Lord Godfrey, outside there is a delegation from Bethlehem, seeking audience.’
The name of that place, the birthplace of the Saviour, had even these high-born men crossing themselves and Godfrey quickly ordered that they should be allowed to enter. The trio who did so, elderly men and venerable, made Tancred think of the three kings who had followed the star to the lowly manger where Mary had borne the Son of God.
The request they conveyed, the hope of shucking off Muslim rule before the attack on Jerusalem, was one that could not be refused, yet it was strange how no one present vied to meet their desire that an armed party should be sent to Bethlehem to chase out a body of Muslim soldiers who garrisoned the barracks and manned the watchtower.
‘Tancred,’ Godfrey finally spoke so as to fill an embarrassing silence. ‘Take a party of your Apulians to Bethlehem and bring it back to the true faith, as these good people so crave. It is not fitting that it should remain in the possession of the infidel any more than the Holy City itself.’
Had anyone else suggested such an act, Tancred would have refused, for if it led to a hard fight he might be kept from the assault on Jerusalem. Godfrey obviously sensed this and added reassurance.
‘No one will set foot from here until Bethlehem is secured.’ Then he seemed to reconsider his first instruction. ‘Take some of my lances too, those captained by Baldwin of le Bourg will serve.’
Night was falling by the time the party set out, not that it mattered much in a sky so filled with stars as to provide clear sight of the ground over which they rode. In order to reach Bethlehem he was required to lead his men in an arc round Jerusalem. As evidence of how numerous was the population of that great conurbation, and how nervous were the defenders, their combined oil lamps and wall torches seemed to add a distant orange glow to the sky above the city.
Bethlehem had no walls, only the small Muslim garrison, set there previously by the Abbasids to milk the pilgrims who came to pray, indeed abase themselves, at the shrine of such a holy site. The Fatimids who had chased their religious rivals away were no less keen on extracting money from visitors, for if the Christian pilgrims of Europe were with the Crusade, there were plenty of co-religionists to feed infidel greed: Copts, Armenians, Maronites, indeed all the fragmented branches of the faith Pope Urban was so keen to unite under the canopy of Rome.
Tancred made no attempt to negotiate that the garrison should peacefully depart. He rode right into the hamlet and, advised by those who had come to plead with the princes, made straight for the barracks in which his enemies resided. The noise of the mounted approach had awakened these men and, well aware that escape was impossible, they elected to fight from behind walls that were no more than half again of the height of a normal man; Tancred was so tall he could practically engage them on the tip of his toes.
Like nearly every infidel the Crusaders had fought in the last two years they were not inclined to easily succumb. Either their faith was equal to that of any Christian or, knowing death awaited them, or a forcible conversion, they were left with little choice but to engage in an uneven contest. By the time the first hint of light touched the eastern sky, the men Tancred led were over those flimsy walls and doing terrible execution, their swords swinging until no one was left to stand in their way.
The crowd that appeared when the fighting stopped, bearing beakers of wine for their champions to drink, were close to ecstatic; how many generations had lived under the Muslim yoke, how many times had they hankered after this deliverance in discreet prayer? Impatience did not permit the fighters to leave, the people of Bethlehem leading them to the Church of the Nativity, there to say a Mass of thanksgiving on the exact spot that saw the birth of Jesus.
Tancred, still covered in Muslim blood, was moved and he was not alone. Most of his men were moist of eye and possibly thinking how they would tell, once they got home, how they had liberated this venerable spot. Added to that they sensed that salvation was sure to be theirs: surely God would see that Bethlehem was as much a source of remission as Jerusalem; surely, when the time came for them to join him, it would be in his celestial paradise.
Mass over, the locals asked for men to protect them, after all there could still be Muslims close by who would come to take revenge for their fallen comrades. Tancred had to agree yet it was not just to assuage their fears: that conference from which he had been sent away left in him an impression of ambition so unbridled that there was no way of knowing how matters would conclude.
Thus, much to the annoyance of Walter of le Bourg, he raised his de Hauteville banner above the Church of the Nativity before detaching some of his Apulian lances to occupy the barracks and provide protection. Whatever happened in the following days, for success would lead to a parcelling out of the domain of Palestine, he would claim Bethlehem and the lands surrounding as his own fief.
On the return to Qubeiba it was obvious that no host was encamped there, indeed when they entered the town it was close to being deserted, with no sign even of Godfrey de Bouillon. Calm interrogation of the few people he found informed him that the men of Provence had moved out in the hours of darkness, with Raymond at their head, seeking to steal a march on his noble rivals.
With the Count of Toulouse being obviously determined to be first outside the walls of Jerusalem, this had quite naturally led to the rest hastily following to seek to thwart him, including the Lotharingians. His initial anger at Godfrey’s broken promise had to be set aside; he would have had little option but to do likewise, with his lances champing at the bit lest others take the city by a coup de main.
There was no time to rest his tired mounts and for the same reason: Tancred was just as keen on the potential glory as any count or duke, so the food and drink he and his men took on was hastily consumed, the horses fed with oats given they would be walking not galloping, and off they set in the wake of their confreres, the route easily marked by the passage of a whole army.
They found the host outside the walls of the Holy City, not making camp, indeed many were on their knees in less than silent prayer, soon joined by the remaining Apulians and those of le Bourg’s. There was no shame in the tears they shed; how many months had they prayed to see this sight? For most it was three years since the day they first came together under their lords and priests to dedicate themselves to the cause of Crusade.