'So it is agreed. The horns give out their blast and we are racing away in all directions to form the line. Knights are everywhere struggling into hauberk and war cap, and strapping on greaves and sword-belts. Slinging our shields over our shoulders, we remount our horses and hurry to our places behind our battlechiefs.
'The battle line is only half-formed when the sultan's army appears over the ridge: a hundred thousand strong. Either the scouts have made a poor count, or the Saracen host is growing as more join it from the nearby towns. We pull together as quick as may be-Lord Brusi with his sons, and I with mine, and most of the Scots fall in with Bohemond's troops-but there are big gaps in the line. We tighten our grip on our spears and await the charge. But it does not come.
'Would to God that it did! But, no, Sultan Arslan's warriors do not charge like true fighting men. Instead, they skirt the battlefield in swift, ever-moving swarms. They buzz around us like wasps. They draw near to loose their stinging arrows and feint away again, only to reappear and harass the line somewhere else.
'Still, we hold our ground. We keep our shields between us and the arrows-the few that get by the shields-are easily deflected by our good ring-mail hauberks. We stand our ground, unafraid. Let them swarm and buzz! Where is the hurt?
'Ah, but there are so many of them, and every now and then one of us slumps in the saddle and falls. More often a horse will be struck from under its rider, and that unlucky knight becomes a footman. Yet, though we bide our time, the enemy will not charge.
'Clearly, we cannot endure this abuse forever. It makes no sense to stand by while they slay us man by man. So, after a goodly time, the commanders demand another council. "They will not stand!" bellows Stephen in his rage. "How, in God's Holy name, can you fight an enemy who will not stand?"
'Once his mind is set, Bohemond is not easily shifted. "We have but to wait until they grow tired of this spineless ruse and make their attack. Then we shall cut them down like saplings."
"How long must we wait?" shrieks Count Robert. "We stand our ground and they cut us down with those infernal arrows. I say we charge!" The Duke of Normandy agrees: "Make an attack – break through and scatter the dogs, I say. Cut them as they run!"
"Bohemond commands here," Tancred reminds them. He says little, this Tancred, but he is shrewd and tough as his cousin. "If Lord Taranto says we wait, my lords, then we will wait until Judgement Day."
'The bold prince flings his hand at the swarming mass of infidel. "Look! See how many the sultan commands. They would swallow us whole. We must hold the line until Raymond's forces join us. Then we will make our attack-not before." Bohemond glares around him; he does not like our position any better than the rest, but what else can we do?
'So the lords return to their troops on the line. Brusi and I tell our Scots and Orkneyingar what the prince has decided, and we all hunker down to wait for the rest of their army to join us so the real fighting can begin. But the day is getting on before us; already the sun is passing midday and there is no sign of Raymond's armies. Where are they? But a few leagues separate us-what can be taking them so long?
'Meanwhile, the Seljuq archers are growing increasingly daring and, though it is difficult to tell, it seems more infidel take the field with every assault. We begin to fear the enemy is refreshing itself from an even greater number of warriors than we have yet seen. Bohemond rides up and down the line, calling out exhortations, keeping our courage high.
'All the while, the enemy flies at us-always swarming, swarming like wasps, like hornets shaken from the nest to sting and sting again. We stand firm. The day passes, and still Raymond's army does not appear. God have mercy! Where are they? Why have they deserted us?'
The question became an anguished cry as Ranulf, reliving the battle anew, felt again the hopelessness of that terrible day. He struggled upright, and the movement brought convulsions of pain and coughing. Murdo sitting rapt at his father's side, brought up the waterskin and gave his father to drink. 'Peace,' he said, trying to soothe. 'It is done and over; there is nothing to fear.'
Ranulf took a long pull on the waterskin, then pushed it away. 'I look down the line,' he said, falling back onto his sweat-soaked pallet. 'The gaps in the ranks are larger now. The battleline is growing ragged. The men are clumping together, seeking shelter from the arrows under one another's shields-the first sign of an army feeling its defeat, mark me.
'Bohemond is riding back and forth, shouting for the knights to reform the line, and all at once a great shout rises up. I see Bohemond turn in the saddle, and I turn, too. Duke Robert has broken from the line and is leading a charge into the nearest swarm of Turks. Lord Brusi and his sons have gone with them. We had vowed to stand together with the prince, and the fool has followed the Normandy knights into battle.
'But wait! They have caught the enemy by surprise. The Turks are thrown backward upon themselves-those coming up from behind are driven back by warriors fleeing the charge. All at once they are confounded. Turks scatter in all directions, and it seems the knights will make good the attack. Others are calling now to be released to join the charge.
'Bohemond is wary. He calls for us to stand our ground, but no one heeds him any more. They think they see the chance we have been waiting for, and are desperate to seize it and make an end of the slaughter.
'With a shout for God and glory, they put spurs to their mounts and charge into them. The Flemish and English troops join the attack, and they are quickly followed by Stephen and Tancred and their warriors. Even Bohemond's knights strain after the others, but the prince holds us back. "Stand, men!" he cries, racing back and forth along the line. "Hold your ground!"
'Those of us left behind cry out to be allowed to join the assault. It is all I can do to keep Torf and Skuli at my side-they are eager to take the battle to the infidel. Everyone is shouting to attack, but the stubborn prince refuses. He shouts us down with his big voice and forces us to obey on pain of death. "I will flay alive any man who defies me!" he bellows, standing in his stirrups at the head of his troops.
'So, we have no choice but to stand and watch as our comrades pursue the enemy over the low hills.' Ranulf paused, swallowed hard, and then continued, his voice growing taut. 'God save us, the knights passed from sight over the hilltops, riding hard, and we see them no more. For the space of four heartbeats we hear nothing… suddenly, the Seljuqs reappear. The treacherous dogs have circled around from behind. Oh, their horses are lighter and faster. The Turks are able to move like the wind over the hills, vanishing and appearing at will.
'It is but the blink of an eye, and already the attacking force is surrounded. The enemy presses in on all sides, rending the air with their war cry of "Allah akbar! Allah akbar!" We stand and watch, but can offer no help. All the while, the short steel-tipped arrows fall upon our comrades like killing rain. We watch our kinsmen tumble from the saddle. God save us, their bodies cover the hillside, and still they fall!
'The knights try to rally. Duke Robert leads them and they drive again and again into the whirling enemy. A small gap appears in the Turkish line. The knights try to break through. I see the duke fighting his way to the place, only to see it close again before he can reach it. He drives on, regardless. Two Seljuq archers come before his face; they draw their bows and let fly. The first arrow strikes the rim of his shield and glances away; the second hits him in the chest, but he charges on.