TWENTY
For eight days, Count Raymond of Toulouse held fast to his resolve and refused to add his signature to the oath of loyalty the emperor required. Instead, he stood by and watched the huge troop ships of the emperor's fleet ceaselessly plying the waters of the Bosphorus, ferrying the armies of Bohemond and Tancred across to Pelecanum and speeding them on their way. Meanwhile, merchant vessels of every kind and description arrived in port fully laden with supplies of grain, oil, wine, and livestock, for the provisioning of the crusaders. From morning to night, the busy waterway heaved and surged with a barely-contained tumult. At times there were so many boats out on the water the count thought a knight could have galloped from one shore to the other on shipdeck.
Every day, pilgrims in their thousands made their slow way down to the river landings on the Golden Horn, leading horses and pulling wagons overflowing with equipment and camp clutter. The horses were boarded first-a laborious chore which slowed an already sluggish operation to a tedious crawl; and when the animals were secure, the wagons, which had been disassembled on shore, were put aboard, followed by the weapons, supplies, and equipment the wagons had been carrying. Only when the ships could hold no more baggage, were the people allowed to come aboard-knights and their footmen first, and then the camp followers: the priests and churchmen of various kinds, the wives of the crusaders, and their children.
Fully laden, a troop ship could carry fifty horses, twenty wagons, and from three to four hundred people. The emperor had provided eleven of these large ships for the operation, and each ship could make two trips a day. Thus, while Count Raymond and Bishop Adhemar stood idly by, the numbers on the shore dwindled away with startling rapidity, until, after eight days, the sun set on an almost deserted quay.
The ninth day saw the arrival of Robert, Duke of Normandy, son of William Rufus, King of England; his cousin, Robert, Count of Flanders; and his brother-in-law, Count Stephen of Blois. Their combined forces ran to more than forty thousand men, including a small regiment led by the bellicose cleric, Bishop Odo of Bayeux.
Despite a slight difficulty with the Adriatic crossing, which resulted in the regrettable drowning of four hundred soldiers, all in all the journey to Constantinople had proved a highly satisfactory beginning to the pilgrimage, and the new arrivals were eager to cross the Bosphorus and engage the godless enemy. Like the others before them, the Latin Lords were immediately summoned to an audience with the emperor. Unlike some of their predecessors, however, they happily pledged allegiance to Alexius, and promised to return all lands, relics, peoples, and treasures to imperial rule.
The man largely responsible for their swift and gracious submission was Count Stephen, who appeared to enjoy a measure of influence with the others on account of his good-natured selflessness and genuine piety. Once the emperor learned of the high esteem in which Stephen was held by his comrades, he wasted not a moment in recruiting the young lord to the cause of inducing Raymond to sign the oath.
No sooner had Lord Blois replaced the quill upon the tray, than did Alexius remark how glad he was to have that formality behind them and how he would instantly command provisions to be delivered to the newcomers' hungry troops, whereupon the imperial ships would begin transporting them to Pelecanum to join their pilgrim comrades. Duke Robert, relieved and grateful, expressed his eagerness to resume the pilgrimage, whereupon the emperor mentioned what a dreadful shame it was that Count Raymond of Toulouse would not be joining them on the crusade.
The western lords glanced at one another wonderingly. Count Raymond's army was the largest and best supplied, and they were counting on his leadership. 'But, Lord Emperor, why should Raymond stay behind?' inquired Stephen respectfully.
'We can only assume that our friend has decided to abandon the crusade,' replied Alexius.
'Truly?' wondered Count Robert of Flanders.
'So it would appear.'
'Forgive me, Emperor Alexius,' said the Duke of Normandy, 'but I find this most difficult to believe. The Count of Toulouse is known to be a most ardent pilgrim. Indeed, his army stands ready even now to depart. There must be some other explanation. No doubt a mistake has been made.'
'There has been no mistake,' the emperor assured him. 'The only impediment to his departure is the oath which you and your comrades have just signed. Count Raymond has been in Constantinople nine days; each day he is presented with the oath, and each day he refuses to sign.' Alexius' voice became hard. 'As he cannot continue to the Holy Land until the document is acknowledged, we can only conclude that he has decided to forsake the crusade.'
Stephen, frowning with concern, nodded sympathetically. 'I begin to understand,' he replied. 'Perhaps the emperor might allow me a space in which to try to change his mind. With your consent, Emperor, I will speak to him.'
'Please, by all means, speak to him,' said Alexius with the air of a man who has exhausted every possibility. 'We will pray God grants you every success, and swiftly. The ships will begin transporting your troops the day after the Easter Mass and the oath must be signed before any soldiers are allowed to make the crossing.'
'But Easter is tomorrow!' Stephen gasped.
'It is,' agreed the emperor. 'Thus, you begin to see the way of things.'
'By your leave, Lord Emperor, I will speak to him without delay.'
The tenth day after Raymond arrived in Constantinople, bells of the great city's churches broke the dawn silence with a clanging cacophony to herald the Eastertide Mass. The western noblemen and their families – for all except Stephen had brought wives and children with them – were invited to sit with the imperial family in the royal gallery in the Church of the Holy Wisdom. There, among Saint Sophia's gold-encrusted icons and immaculate mosaics of the Risen Christ, the visitors were offered a glimpse of the glory they had solemnly vowed to preserve. After the church service, while the emperor's party returned to the palace for a day of feasting, interspersed with prayers and worship, the pilgrims were conducted back to their stark and barren camps to reflect on the grandeur of what they had experienced.
Early the next morning, the imperial ships began moving the troops of Normandy and Flanders across the Bosphorus to join those of Hugh, Godfrey, and Bohemond awaiting them on the other side. For ten days the great troop ships traversed the narrow strait in waves as relentless as the tide, ceaselessly loading and unloading the crusaders and their paraphernalia of war. Still, the proud Lord of Toulouse refused the oath.
When the last horse and footman had been ferried across, the emperor gave orders to remove the imperial fleet from the quay to the centre of the Golden Horn so that the increasingly anxious Franks left behind would not be tempted to take them by force. He instructed his admiral to allow the ships to remain in full sight, however, so as to provide stubborn Lord Raymond and his wilful bishop a continual reminder of how little stood between them and their departure, and how swiftly they might be hastened on their way.
Lord Stephen, who had sent his troops on ahead with the others, remained behind to help persuade the toplofty count; he counselled, coaxed, and cajoled, and by dint of his genuine good nature succeeded, at last in softening Raymond's resolve. Thus, three days after the last troop ship had sailed, Count Toulouse and Bishop Adhemar appeared with Stephen at Blachernae Palace seeking audience with the emperor.
Alexius graciously agreed to see them as soon as possible, and then went casually about his affairs: reviewed the palace guard; strolled through the imperial stables and paused to watch the Master of Horse put the yearlings through their paces; observed mass; met with the magister officiorum and the quaestor sacri palatii to discuss the following week's register of state functions; dined with the empress at midday, following which he enjoyed a rare, if brief, nap in the garden; and signed a dozen or so documents relating to the promotion of several deserving military commanders and their requisite pay increases. Meanwhile, he had given the fleet commander orders to have the troop ships moved from the centre of the Golden Horn around to Hormisdas Harbour so that the crusaders should see them departing.