‘By which gate?’ Hugh asked.
‘The entire army will leave by Bridge Gate. The northern French, under Robert of Normandy and Robert of Flanders will follow Hugh of Paris. Next, Godfrey of Bouillon commanding the Germans, whilst Bishop Adhémar will lead the Provençals.’ Bohemond shrugged. ‘I understand Count Raymond has not yet recovered from an illness. Tancred and I will lead the fifth squadron. Once we leave the city, we will deploy in a semicircle and advance across the plain, keeping the Orontes on our right flank, to confront Khebogha. I need not tell you the dangers of such a plan.’
‘As we deploy,’ Hugh declared, ‘those Turks besieging the gates will attack our flanks and rear.’
‘Worse,’ Godefroi added, ‘if Khebogha advances swiftly towards us, we’ll be encircled and crushed.’
‘Very good, very good,’ Bohemond breathed. ‘Yes, that’s what I thought you would say, but the enemy will not expect us. Tancred and I will take care of any attack from the rear. The Turks on the other gates have to cross the Orontes. They will be loose, scattered, easy to brush off, more of an irritant than anything else. The main threat is Khebogha, but he has made a great mistake. Too wide a gap divides his main camp from Antioch. If we can leave, deploy, brush aside the outposts and aim like an arrow for Khebogha’s army, we might seize victory. Our men are desperate yet inspired. They now realise it is either fight and be victorious or face certain death!’
Eleanor felt her stomach pitch, and a cool ripple of fear crossed her back. She could see what Bohemond was plotting. His plan was crude, simple but very effective. The Army of God would pour out of the city across Bridge Gate and form up on the plain outside. They would advance north, their right flank protected by the river. Those Turks surrounding each gate might attack, but they’d be taken by surprise. They would have to ford the river and would be reluctant to take on the main Frankish host. Those in the citadel could do little; fearful of treachery or betrayal, they would stay there until the battle was decided. However, if Khebogha moved his massive army and marched, the Army of God would simply be surrounded, trapped and annihilated. She glanced up sharply. Hugh and Godefroi refused to meet her eye. Theodore was staring down at the crude map as Bohemond tapped his fingers against it. Beside her, Simeon was shivering slightly.
‘You have to convince Khebogha not to move,’ she said. Bohemond’s ice-blue eyes held hers. ‘You have already begun that, haven’t you?’
He nodded imperceptibly.
‘How?’
‘Very easy. One of my commanders was killed in the fighting around the citadel. We made great play of trying to reclaim his corpse, but eventually we were driven off. He was a good soldier.’ Bohemond narrowed his eyes. ‘A fighting man; he loved the sun, the wine. He’d marched east to make himself a great lord. He vowed that he would serve me in life and death, and he certainly did. I deliberately left a letter on his corpse. The Turks in the citadel will have read it and passed it on to Khebogha. In that letter to the Emperor Alexius, I reveal that I have been made commander of the Army of God, and that I intend to desert Antioch and leave Count Raymond to meet his fate.’ Bohemond smiled. ‘After all, the animosity between us is well known, as is the fact that we plan to march back into the Emperor’s dominions.’
‘So Khebogha won’t move.’ Simeon spoke up. ‘He’ll stay in his camp, where there is a supply of fresh water, away from the contagion around the city. He knows all he has to do is just sit and wait. His garrisons at the city gates will inflict damage on you, perhaps weaken your army…’
‘Precisely.’ Bohemond tapped on the table. ‘And by the time we reach Khebogha, we’ll be depleted, burnt by the sun, starving and thirsty. We may surrender, we may put up some resistance, but…’ he shrugged, ‘why should Khebogha come looking for us when we will come to him? We’ll have to tramp under the sun, through the dust clouds, and suffer attack. He thinks he is the hunter just waiting to spring his trap.’
‘How do you know Khebogha has read your letter?’
‘Very simple,’ Bohemond mused. ‘He hasn’t moved. He knows from his spies, not to mention the watch in the citadel, that we are massing ready to leave. Nevertheless, he has not moved his camp or even strengthened his outposts around the city gates. No, I think the letter is there; he’s waiting. What we have to do,’ he pointed at Eleanor, ‘what you have to do, is convince him by giving him the precise time, date and place of our departure.’
Eleanor felt her breath catch in her throat, her skin abruptly soaked in sweat. She glared accusingly at her brother and Godefroi. They just stared back, and in that moment, Eleanor realised how much things had changed. What was important to them was not any blood-tie, kinship or former memories, only the future, the vision: Jerusalem! Everything, including herself, was simply a way of achieving that. She stared at Theodore. He looked more composed, though she was sure Simeon’s teeth were chattering.
‘How is it to be done?’ she asked quickly. ‘Why me?’
‘The same as before,’ Bohemond continued evenly. ‘You, Theodore and Simeon. During the afternoon of the twenty-seventh of June, the day before we leave, you’ll escape and ride towards Khebogha. The night before, Theodore will have shot an arrow into the enemy camp carrying a message informing the Turks that he will desert the next morning, bringing vital information for the Atabeg Khebogha. You will leave on those three horses specially stabled and cared for; that is why you have also been given food. I want Khebogha to realise that you have been hiding in the city and decided to escape.’
‘But they’ll know…’ Eleanor stammered, ‘that we betrayed the Twin Sisters through Firuz.’
‘Listen,’ Theodore broke in. ‘We have been chosen precisely because of that. This is our story. We fled the Army of God and sheltered with Firuz, who quarrelled with Yaghi Siyan. Firuz was the traitor. He held the towers, not us. He was the one who betrayed them to the Franks, so we killed him in revenge.’
Bohemond clambered to his feet, left the chamber and came back carrying two leather sacks. He undid the cord of the first and drew out a severed head. The face was a deathly hue, the eyes closed, the blood-spattered lips half open. Firuz! The severed skin at the neck was clotted a dark red. In the other sack was a second severed head that Eleanor vaguely recognised.
‘Firuz’s brother,’ Theodore explained, ‘killed in the nearby tower, also judged a traitor.’
‘But he wasn’t. I know that,’ Eleanor insisted. ‘Firuz acted on his own; he was fearful of being betrayed.’
‘Of course,’ Hugh intervened. ‘Firuz and his brother were killed by mistake in the first affray when the blood ran hot. It was difficult to distinguish between friend and foe. However, both heads will be presented to Khebogha as the two traitors who delivered Antioch to the Franks.’
‘And he will believe that?’ Simeon’s voice was almost a yelp. ‘That we, well fed, with plump horses, could hide in Antioch for over three weeks, then ride out with the severed heads of two traitors?’
‘Why not?’ Theodore insisted. ‘Remember, Antioch is a sprawling city with orchards, parks, houses, cellars and passageways. Turks still shelter in the city, well armed, well fed, with treasure and food. They must have heard about Khebogha’s approach. They know the citadel is still being held. All they have to do is hide long enough and deliverance will come. We are three such people. We hid as long as we could, then decided to escape. It’s happening every day; why shouldn’t we flee? The Army of God is depleted and starving.’