Starvation began to bite. Famine became commonplace. The Franks were forced to eat fig leaves, thistles, leather belts and even the dried hides of dead animals. A horse’s head, without the tongue, sold for three gold pieces, the intestines of a goat for five and a live cockerel for ten. The knights were so desperate they drew the blood from their own horses and donkeys and drank it for sustenance. The Franks even opened negotiations with Khebogha, who demanded their total unconditional surrender and also that they renounce their religion. The Army of God truly faced annihilation. Hugh and Godefroi, however, vowed to fight to the death. They joined Eleanor in making their final confessions and returned to their plotting. God, they had decided, needed a helping hand.
One evening, a week after the fall of the city, Eleanor sat on the flat roof of the merchant’s house with Hugh, Godefroi and Theodore. She watched a meteor score the heavens and fall in a fiery mess behind the Turkish camp. The Poor Brethren were joined by Count Raymond of Toulouse, who came to share a tun of special wine found in the cellars of an Armenian merchant. At first the conversation was desultory. They all agreed there was little hope of relief, so they sat enjoying the wine and the cool evening breeze, staring out at the pinpricks of light in the sprawling camp of Khebogha’s advance guard. Eleanor drank slowly, half listening to the ranting of Peter Bartholomew the visionary, who was striding up and down the cobbled yard below. Peter’s young, powerful voice rang out, quoting the psalms as he cursed the enemies of the Army of God.
He has sent divers swarms of flies amongst them which devoured them and frogs which destroyed them.
He also gave their harvest to the caterpillar and the fruits of their vineyards to the locust.
He has destroyed their vines with hail and their sycamore trees with frost.
He has given their cattle to the hail and their flocks of sheep to hot thunderbolts.
He has cast upon our enemy the fierceness of his anger, laughter and indignation by sending evil angels among them.
He has made a way of anger.
He has not spared their souls.
He will give their lives over to the pestilence.
Count Raymond drained his cup, his one good eye fixed on Hugh.
‘It is only God we have left,’ he declared. ‘The Emperor will not help us. The Turks demand our surrender, or our heads, or possibly both. Our shepherds have deserted their flocks whilst the sheep starve.’ He paused at fresh cries and shouts.
Eleanor stared up at the flashes of fire scoring the night sky. Broad blood-red flames lit the blackness. From the city rose shouts of ‘Deus vult, Deus vult! A sign, a sign!’
‘They have asked for a sign; give them a sign!’ Raymond leaned across and thrust his goblet into Hugh’s hands. ‘Give it soon.’ He rose, cocking his head as if listening to Peter Bartholomew’s fresh ranting, then made his farewells and left.
A short time later the Poor Brethren of the Temple reassembled on the roof of the house. This time they were joined by Alberic and Norbert; they looked like brothers, cowls shrouding their cadaver-like faces, flesh shrunken from the depredations they’d suffered. Nevertheless, the eyes of both men were as bright and sharp as ever. They looked impatient, as if eager to begin some important enterprise. They were also joined by Beltran. He had openly rejoiced to find Imogene safe and well, delighted to be reunited with her though clearly bitter at the way he and his beloved had been deceived. Hugh had shrugged this off, dismissing Beltran’s growing coolness by declaring that in order to succeed, Bohemond’s plan had had to remain secret.
‘Well, well,’ Beltran murmured now, forcing a smile and glancing round. ‘Will we escape this by treachery? By deceit, by cunning?’
‘What shall be done?’ Hugh retorted, his voice harsh at Beltran’s jibes.
‘What can be done?’ Beltran’s reply was almost a jeer.
‘We must fight!’ Theodore declared. ‘We cannot withstand the siege. We grow weaker by the day. We have no choice but to leave Antioch and bring Khebogha to battle.’
‘And be defeated?’ Beltran asked.
‘We are desperate!’ Hugh broke in. ‘We have no other choice. Theodore is correct. The army must be roused. They have seen the signs in the heavens. The Army of God must have a rallying point. We must be purified and purged.’ His voice had risen; now it sank to a whisper. ‘The count knows what I have discussed with him; God’s will be done.’ He and Godefroi rose and went down the steps. They were joined a little later by Alberic and Norbert. Finally Beltran murmured his farewells and withdrew, leaving Theodore and Eleanor alone.
‘You are well?’
She smiled thinly back at him. ‘I am tired, hungry, dirty and…’
‘Lost?’ Theodore asked.
‘Yes, lost.’
‘We have all lost our way.’
Eleanor cocked her head. Peter Bartholomew was now silent. ‘What does my brother plan, Theodore?’
‘A sign.’ He came over and sat on the cushions piled beside her. ‘A sign from God.’
‘With a little help from my brother?’
‘Perhaps…’ Theodore smiled. ‘God helps those who look to Him for help.’
‘And perhaps,’ Eleanor murmured, ‘those who are prepared to give Him a helping hand?’
‘Precisely,’ Theodore whispered. ‘Eleanor, in Jerusalem lie the holy relics of Our Saviour. What if,’ he stared up at the sky, ‘such a relic could also be found here?’
The answer to Theodore’s question came swiftly enough. Peter Bartholomew, who had mysteriously disappeared for a few days, re-emerged and presented himself before Count Raymond and Adhémar of Le Puy with the promise of a revelation. Peter’s demand for an audience was like an answer to a prayer. In the city, panic was beginning to spread, people wondering what fate they could expect. The news of the impending revelation coursed like fire through stubble, and when Peter presented himself, the message delivered by his powerful voice was repeated throughout the city. ‘My lords,’ he began, ‘Andrew, the Apostle of God and of our Lord Jesus Christ, has recently admonished me for the fourth time. He has commanded me to give back to you, after this city was captured, the lance that opened the side of Our Saviour. I have not obeyed him. Today I went out of the city with the rest to do battle. I was caught between two horsemen. I was almost suffocated and sat down sadly on a certain rock, almost devoid of life. I was faint, exhausted from hunger, fear and grief. St Andrew came to me in a dream with a companion. He threatened me much unless I gave the news to you quickly…’ At this, both the count and the bishop interrupted him, asking him to explain what he meant.
‘Months ago, when the first earthquake shook Antioch, I said nothing, God help me. One night when I lay down, the earth shook again. My fear increased, and looking up, I suddenly saw two men standing before me in the brightest clothing. The first was older with red-white hair; his beard was wide and thick and he was of medium stature. His companion was younger and taller, handsome beyond any likeness of the children of men. The older man said to me: “What are you doing?” I was very frightened and I replied, “Who are you?” The man retorted, “Rise and do not be afraid and listen to what I am saying to you. I am Andrew the Apostle. Bring together the Bishop of Le Puy and Count Raymond of Toulouse and say these words to them: ‘Why has the bishop neglected to preach and admonish the People of the cross, for it will profit them much?” ’ And he added, ‘Come, I will show you the lance of Our Lord Jesus Christ and you shall give it to Count Raymond, as God intended for him to hold it ever since he was born.’
‘I rose therefore and followed St Andrew into the city dressed in nothing but my shirt. I passed unharmed through the streets of the Turks and he led me into the Church of St Peter the Apostle, which the Turks had turned into a mosque. Inside the church two lamps shed as much light as if the sun was pouring through. He told me to wait and commanded me to sit at the base of a pillar close to the steps leading to the altar. He went ahead of me and disappeared as if going down into the ground. He then emerged, bringing forth a lance, which he thrust into my hands. He said to me: “Behold the lance which opened His side from which the salvation of the whole world is come.” I held it in my hands, weeping for joy. “Lord,” I asked, “if it is Thy will, I shall take this and give it to the count.” And he said to me, “Not now, for soon the city will be taken. Then come with twelve men and seek it from the same place I drew it from and where you shall find it again.” And he put the lance back. After these things had happened, I was led back into the camp to my own tent. When I woke up, I reflected about the condition of my poverty, and I was too terrified to approach you. Anyway, it was the first day of Lent, around the of time of cockcrow, that St Andrew reappeared to me, in the same garb with the same companion, and a great brightness shone around them.