‘Where?’ demanded Vermandois. ‘At St Paul’s Gate?’
‘What stratagems have you employed, Count Hugh, since you so sadly lost your brother’s Constable?’
‘I have sought contacts, it is true, sent messages in by various means seeking to seduce the garrison to …’
He did not finish that, which was an indication of how far he had got.
‘And tell me, Count Hugh, if you had succeeded, would you have willingly handed the city over to joint suzerainty by the council?’
‘Of course,’ the Frenchman contended, but he was a poor liar and Bohemund wondered if he was the only one present who did not believe him.
‘Count Raymond?’
‘As you say, Count Bohemund, a man would be a fool not to try, but do not think I would seek Antioch for myself.’
‘Noble indeed,’ Godfrey cried, as Normandy admitted he too had been active.
‘What we have, if the Bishop’s intelligence is correct, is a crisis, My Lords. I care not if you call it greed, but if I enter Antioch first and you are obliged to follow me I will claim it.’
‘Very like a de Hauteville,’ Duke Robert growled.
‘Perhaps, but we did not get to eminence on the gifts of others, either in Normandy or Italy. Nor can I believe that men such as here present would act in any other way, despite their protestations, from which I exclude you, Godfrey, for you are the only saint among us.’
That remark produced more lines on Ademar’s face than had ever been seen hitherto; he thought himself that.
‘We must agree to what is in our hearts instead of our mouths and take steps to ensure that we have the means to defeat this great army coming our way, which I, for one, worry cannot be done in open battle when Antioch is still in Turkish hands.’
That did much to concentrate minds; with such a host approaching the siege would have to be lifted and worse than that, Yaghi Sigal could emerge from his walls to threaten their rear. The agreement was reluctant and had to be dragged out of each lord present, with the exception of Godfrey de Bouillon who spoke straight at Bohemund.
‘I owe you my life and more besides, as you well know of. I also state here and openly that if others see in you avarice, I do not. If I disagree with what you contend it is not from antagonism to the notion. You may have the right of what you maintain and we here collected could have the wrong. What we are about is in the hands of God and if you are to be his instrument I am content.’
News that Kerbogha was besieging Edessa, which Geoffrey de Bouillon’s brother Baldwin had taken as a fief, gave time for Bohemund to finalise his plans, but before he put them into practice he called upon Godfrey to advise him of what was about to happen and to seek his assistance.
‘For if I can get into Antioch, I will not have the strength on my own to hold it. I want others standing by at certain gates armed and ready to rush in once they are opened. I need that to be set in train but in some secrecy.’
‘Yet you still wish to claim it?’
‘As I will be first over the walls, yes.’
Godfrey thought for what seemed an age, no doubt examining his conscience, to which he was a slave, until Bohemund could contain himself no longer; he was aware of what was closest to his fellow magnate’s heart. ‘Without support I will fail and so might the Crusade.’
‘Then tell me what you need.’
EPILOGUE
The night was hot and cloudy, the moon and stars hidden, which made movement difficult, especially since it had to be silent. The men on the southern walls would have seen a large body of knights, over five hundred in number, both mounted and on foot, making their way at dusk around the base of Mount Silpius on one of their forays to close off access to the Iron Gate. If they had paid note earlier to Tancred’s smuggler as he slipped out of the St George’s Gate they would perhaps have wondered why he was accompanied by a youth instead of being alone, this being the son of Firuz, being taken to Tancred’s bastion as a hostage, which required an extra bribe so both could pass.
Time was given for the garrison to bed down and get into a deep sleep, while the city behind them did likewise, so what they did not see, after the watch was set and in darkness, was the sixty knights that sneaked back to a point on the hillside opposite the tower commanded by Firuz, where they waited for several turns of the glass until the signal came, the short, bright flash from an unshaded lantern.
There was no way to approach the tower in silence, the slope was too steep and made up, as ever, of loose stones, so it was done at a rush, the hope that on a part of the defences poorly manned there would be no one between the adjoining towers able to hear, and those manning them would be inside. At the base of the wall, where the round fortification billowed out, Bohemund felt for and found the rope that Firuz had sent down, which eased somewhat, if not entirely, his fear that this was an elaborate trap; he had no idea if Firuz had sent a real son or some substitute he was willing to sacrifice, no idea if the smuggler had led him by the nose.
He was not alone in this dread and his intention to take the lead in what was about to happen had to be tempered by the needs of command. To ride into battle ahead of his men, to stand with them in line, both mounted and on foot, was expected of him. Not one of the men he led this night was willing that he should risk himself and they had drawn lots for who should go first, the honour, if it was that, falling to a knight called Fulcher. Quickly the cable-made ladder was tied on to the rope and hoisted up, it being in place when the tension was tested and it went taut.
‘May God be with you, Fulcher,’ Bohemund whispered, the swish of cloth that followed the man crossing himself.
Climbing a rope ladder was far from easy, made harder the more men got on it and began to climb, it reacting like a snake to every movement of foot or hand. Also the knights were keen and too many sought to ascend at once so, when they were halfway up, it parted in the middle, sending half a dozen men tumbling into the hard ground. If Bohemund could hear the sound of breaking bones, whatever wounds had been sustained brought no sound from the afflicted, some of whom might be dead for all their leader knew.
Caution had to be set aside and Bohemund called up for the ladder to be lowered, once the men still climbing were on the battlements, so it could be repaired. Time in the dark seems everlasting, this night being no different, and still Bohemund did not know if his men were safe. They had been ordered to remain quiet, the only indication of their wellbeing the lack of any screams as they found themselves betrayed. The rope was dropped, the reknotted ladder raised back up, but he could wait no longer and it was their Count who led the rest of his knights in the ascent.
When he got there Fulcher was waiting to hand him onto the battlements. ‘Your Armenian is honest and has his men on the parapet guarding against anyone coming from the other towers. They have already taken care of the sentinels on both sides.’
Bohemund did not even know he had been holding his breath until the great gush of air escaped.
‘You know your duty, Fulcher,’ he said, passing him his banner.
‘I do, My Lord.’
One by one his knights arrived, to be herded onto the parapet, then split up to move to the adjacent towers, past Firuz’s Armenians who retired to their quarters. If all failed they would desert, if not it was the only place to be safe. Silent killing came as naturally to Normans as lance work and one party moved on and up to the small portal that led to the living quarters of the defenders in the adjoining tower. There they found them asleep, which should have made despatching them simple, yet it was not. Several of the detachment, twenty men strong and all Turks, managed to wake up and what followed was bloody indeed, only hushed because it was contained within thick stone walls.