Day after day the same numbing routine, cold, silent and hungry, until those hideous figures came shrieking out of the mist. Eventually Count Raymond decided on more punitive measures. They could not pursue their tormentors, who fled back into their rocky hiding places, so the Count turned on any prisoners taken. Eyes were gouged out, noses slit, hands and feet hacked off. The captives were left blinded, disfigured, bleeding hunks of flesh as a stark warning to other tribesmen to leave them alone: Eleanor would never forget those screaming men and women left crawling blindly about on the ice-bound trackways.
Eventually they reached Scodra. Count Raymond tried to negotiate a truce with the King of the Sclavs, but the aggression continued until they crossed the imperial border and reached the territory of Alexius Comnenus around the town of Durazzo. They all breathed a sigh of relief, especially when the Emperor sent letters of peace and offered supplies as well as news about other Frankish leaders swiftly approaching Constantinople. Imperial scouts closed in around them: Cumans in their quilted armour, along with Turcopoles, Buglars, Patzinacks and other mercenary cohorts. The Poor Brethren of the Temple believed they were safe. Hugh and Godefroi were pleased to doff their chain mail and heavy helmets. Norbert and Alberic celebrated a Mass of thanksgiving on an altar set up on one of the great two-wheeled carts. Peter Bartholomew announced he had experienced a vision of the tears of St John, who, as in the Apocalypse, wept at the thought of how the Poor Brethren and others had suffered in Sclavonia. The respite proved illusory. The Emperor’s mercenaries took to pillaging and harassing Count Raymond’s army. Fierce sword quarrels took place in which two Provençal leaders along with knights, women and children were killed. Even Bishop Adhémar of Le Puy received a knock to the head, and had to be sent under safe conduct to the city of Thessalonica.
By the time Count Raymond’s army reached the town of Roussa, its patience was exhausted; the townspeople there were unable, or unwilling, to trade, and fighting broke out during which shops and warehouses were pillaged. Running fights took place between townspeople and Count Raymond’s followers. Greek troops appeared, mounted men-at-arms with their oval shields supported by mercenaries, mounted archers and, more dangerously, Catephracti, the heavy-mailed cavalry of whom, Hugh assured Eleanor, Count Raymond was very wary. A truce was eventually arranged. Greek envoys entered the camp to beseech Count Raymond to accompany them to Constantinople to meet the Emperor, who was already negotiating with other Frankish leaders. The Count accepted the invitation and travelled on in haste, leaving his eighteen-thousand-strong host under the joint command of the Vicomte of Béarn and the Count of Orange; two young men who, in Godefroi’s opinion, hardly knew the difference between north and south, let alone how to command an army.
Three days had passed since the Count had left. The army had slowly moved on, close to the town of Radosto, still shadowed by imperial troops. There had been further clashes, and pillaging by the cross-bearers, for despite all the proclamations and ordinances, not all companies followed the same strict discipline as the Poor Brethren. The worst of these was a gang of ribalds from Montpellier called the Beggars’ Company, led by Jehan the Wolf. A notorious character, Jehan had been hired by the city fathers to drain Montpellier’s moat and ditches. He did so, but also developed a skill second to none of poaching geese and ducks from the same moats and ditches, birds that belonged to local farmers or the city guilds. He then set himself up as a successful fowler, selling fresh bird meat to all and sundry. When the call from Clermont came, Jehan realised rich pickings were to be had elsewhere. He immediately used his wealth and notoriety to organise his own company, most of whom were denizens of the city slums. The Beggars’ Company swarmed with codgers, counterfeiters, jesters and japers, moon people and tumblers. Such men and women thought Jerusalem was only down the road or just beyond the far horizon. The harsh journey down the Via Egnetia had shocked and embittered them. As Father Alberic commented, the Beggars’ Company had no knowledge of scripture except for one verse: ‘Live for today, do not worry about tomorrow or about what you will eat, drink or clothe yourselves in.’ Jehan and his legion of imps truly believed the Lord would provide, and if not, they would gladly give heaven a helping hand.
Jehan was assisted by two lieutenants, ugly bruisers who rejoiced in the names of Gargoyle and Babewyn. These organised his horde of rogues, and as they approached Radosto, the Beggars’ Company simply disappeared. After an absence of four days, they returned bringing back cattle, sheep, chickens and fresh meat for the pot, as well as valuable tapestries, cloths and precious goods, gifts they claimed from grateful local inhabitants. No one questioned them, though Hugh whispered hoarsely that they’d pay soon enough for the feast Jehan had prepared. None of the captains of the companies or the great lords had the authority or status to bring Jehan to account. More importantly, none of them could resist the smell of freshly cooked meats, spiced and garnished with herbs, that wafted through the camp.
Like some King of Misrule, Jehan entertained all the leaders to a great banquet. Eleanor, Hugh and Godefroi attended, their bellies sick for food, their throats craving the lush wines and fresh fruits on offer. The banquet was a clever move. Count Raymond was absent. Jehan played on the hunger and bitterness of the cross-bearers, turning them into his accomplices. Platters of fresh meat, duck, swan, pork and beef, were served in the light of roaring fires and flaring pitch torches. Jehan entertained them with tumblers and mummers as well as recounting a tale of how he had once swindled a fat wine merchant and a pompous canon of Montpellier.
‘I ordered some wine,’ he roared from his throne-like chair. ‘I told the merchant’s apprentice I would pay for it once it was delivered. He followed me to the cathedral. I told him to wait outside while I went in and accosted the canon. I told him I’d brought my nephew to be shriven as he had an insatiable hunger for money, a deep avarice, so would the canon talk to him and, in return, accept as a gift the barrels of wine I’d brought on the cart? Of course the canon agreed. He followed me outside and glimpsed the apprentice guarding the wine. I told him to wait, approached the apprentice and said that the fat, wealthy priest beckoning at him would settle the bill.’ Jehan’s story ended in roars of laughter at the mutual bewilderment of both confessor and penitent: the latter demanding money whilst the priest reproached him for his avarice. Truth eventually came with time, but by then, both Jehan and the wine had disappeared.
Eleanor regarded Jehan as a lying boaster, though she marvelled at his cunning. Hugh and Godefroi, however, as they surveyed what was being served and the plunder Jehan had gathered on his so-called foraging, tried to reassure themselves that what he had brought was legitimate. After all, if the Emperor wouldn’t supply them, what choice did the cross-bearers have but to take it for themselves? As Hugh and Godefroi watched Gargoyle, Babewyn and others display the glorious raiment and precious jewels they’d brought back to the camp, their anxiety deepened. They were confirmed in this by Theodore, a wandering Greek mercenary who had joined Count Raymond’s army and become closely attached to the Poor Brethren. Theodore claimed to have been born near Smyrna, of Greek and Norman parentage. He was certainly an expert swordsman, who owned his own destrier and pack horse. He was of medium height, his dark face bearded. In character he was courteous and kind, and he soon impressed Hugh and Godefroi with his knowledge of the Turks, the Greek army and the countryside they were travelling through. He also proved himself to be an able fighter, allowing Hugh and Godefroi to examine the special armour he wore: a mail-lined jerkin over a leather corselet made out of lamellar with a gorget of similar material and a ridged steel helmet. He was also skilled with the bow and couching a lance. A born soldier, Theodore had fought against Bulgar, Alan and Turk. He fascinated the Franks with his description of the Turks whose territory they were about to invade, describing them as swift fighters, deadly and ferocious, and skilled in mounted archery, which always confused their enemies. He also described the rigid discipline of the Emperor’s armies, its heavy and light cavalry and its well-organised infantry led by the Imperial Guard. He explained how Alexius organised his army into turma of about three thousand men, which in turn were subdivided into eight numeri each of about three hundred and fifty, delineating the various officers and standard-bearers as well as their military code. The Byzantine army was also well supplied in the field, being supported by siege trains, engineers and physicians. Hugh was deeply impressed by such organisation and began to impose similar discipline on the hundred or so Poor Brethren. He organised them into units of ten which he called a conroy, dividing the knights from the serjeants and allocating duties such as cooking and physic to various individuals, including even women and children.