They must have ridden about five miles before they reached the picket lines of Khebogha’s camp. They slowed down as they entered the main lane leading to its centre. Eleanor’s heart sank. Khebogha’s army was the great horde of Asia. Chieftains and emirs had responded to their caliph’s call to annihilate the Frankish invaders. Masses of foot soldiers thronged in their body armour, heavy cavalry with their helmets and mail hauberks, all armed with spear, dagger and curving sword, and of course everywhere those deadly Turkish archers on their swift, nimble mounts. As far as Eleanor could see stretched a veritable forest of tents and pavilions of different colours and fabrics. The army seemed well provisioned, situated close to a river and lakes. The horse lines housed great herds, all plump, sleek and glossy-coated. Along the ground nearby ranged row upon row of the high-peaked saddles so favoured by the Turkish bowmen.
They were told to dismount, then led to the Atabeg’s tent, a gorgeous purple pavilion with silver ropes and golden tassels. The pavilion and its surrounding tents were cordoned off from the rest of the camp by a palisade, its double-gated entrance guarded by splendidly attired warriors in gleaming armour. Inside were planted the Atabeg’s standards and banners, fixed into spigots driven into the ground. Eleanor glimpsed glossy horses being trotted around by grooms. Scribes sat under awnings, writing trays on their laps. At the entrance to one vermilion-coloured tent stood a group of beautiful maidens, long black hair hanging down free, their golden skin swathed in diaphanous gauze veils. The sound of music and laughter echoed. Eleanor took heart at this. Khebogha had decided not to advance. He was confident enough, apparently viewing the impending battle as already won.
Khebogha’s personal guards took Theodore’s weapons. They were searched and then, with a soldier on either side, escorted into the cool, fragrant-smelling pavilion. Khebogha sat on a pile of cushions. He was a young man with an imperious, arrogant face, small black eyes and a hawkish nose above thin lips. He wore a white turban and a loose embroidered robe. He seemed more concerned with the chess set before him, jewelled ivory pieces on a lacquered board. He spoke angrily to his opponent, an old white-bearded man, then turned to greet his three visitors, who were forced to kneel just inside the entrance. Either side of Khebogha squatted his emirs. In the poor light all Eleanor could see were dark faces, coloured turbans, a flash of white or the glitter of silver or gold thread.
At first Khebogha was openly hostile. He pushed away the chess board and squatted, hands hanging between his knees, as he questioned Theodore. Eleanor calmed herself. Khebogha was arrogant; Theodore was very clever. He told the Atabeg exactly what he wanted to hear. How Count Raymond was ill, the leaders of the Franks divided; they were bereft of horses, starving, weak, desperate for home and openly mutinous. They intended to leave Antioch by Bridge Gate just after dawn the following day and march north, not to do battle but to negotiate their way through into Byzantine territory. It would be, Theodore concluded triumphantly, a matter for Khebogha to decide whether they lived or died. The Atabeg openly rejoiced at this. He nodded vigorously, turning to his colleagues, intent on demonstrating that what Theodore had described was precisely his own perception. They must not move but let their forces outside the gates of Antioch harass the Franks. The main Turkish force must sit, wait and spring the trap. Voices were raised in dissension but Khebogha ignored these. A shadow moved to Eleanor’s right. One of the Turks leaned forward as he salaamed and gave his advice to Khebogha. Eleanor caught her breath. Baldur! The handsome captain, the seducer of Asmaja, the real cause for the fall of Antioch. Theodore and Simeon had also identified him but kept their poise. Baldur, whatever his private thoughts, was apparently desperate to hide his own role in the tragic events of the Twin Sisters’ fall. He dared not voice his suspicions without laying himself open to serious accusation. Seduction of a fellow officer’s wife would be as heinous amongst these pious Muslims as it would be with the leaders of the Army of God. Antioch had fallen because of Baldur’s lust; that would be regarded as his death warrant.
Simeon later whispered how Baldur, instead of attacking or criticising Theodore, had insisted that Khebogha question the Greek on his own credentials. Theodore, as Eleanor later discovered, complied adroitly. He gestured at Eleanor, describing her as his wife. He then described their desertion from the Army of God. How they had been accepted by Yaghi Siyan and entrusted to the care of the traitor Firuz at the Twin Sisters tower. How Firuz had betrayed his post for paltry gain and how Theodore, consumed with rage, had killed both Firuz and his brother. At this point he pushed forward the two leather sacks a servant had placed beside him. The severed heads were exposed to murmurs of appreciation followed by curses directed at these grisly trophies. At this juncture Khebogha clapped his hands. Ice sherbet and saffron cakes were served to his visitors, whom he now called his guests. Theodore, Simeon and Eleanor relaxed. Food and drink had been served; they were accepted.
Theodore now waxed lyrical. He described how he had cut one of the ox-hide ladders Firuz had lowered, a detail known to the Turks, then explained how they had hidden in Antioch, seizing food and horses whilst sheltering in the dense park close to the Gate of the Goat. How they had mixed with the Franks and learned their plans until they had been discovered. Suspicions had been raised so they had no choice but to flee. Theodore did not describe himself as a convert to Islam or even willing to serve Khebogha but as a simple mercenary who’d realised the Franks were finished and needed to flee. In the end Khebogha nodded, clapping his hands, looking around at his companions. The decision was made. Let the Franks emerge from Antioch. They would be harassed by his outposts and then destroyed by his main army. Theodore, Eleanor and Simeon were allowed to withdraw. They were given a small tent within the royal palisade and settled down to await events. Eleanor spent a tense day and night sleeping fitfully, disturbed by the sounds of the camp; only later did she discover exactly what had happened.
Bohemond left Antioch as predicted, though what Khebogha did not realise was that the Franks were intent on a fight to the death. Negotiation and surrender were now regarded as total anathema. The Army of God spilled out of Bridge Gate. Every type of horse had been gathered and fed with whatever fodder could be found. Hugh of Paris swept ahead to clear away any obstacle; his archers unleashed intense volleys at the Turks, who retreated in shock at the brutal and unexpected assault. The Norman French under the two Roberts, Flanders and Normandy, followed, then Godfrey of Bouillon with the Germans. Adhémar of Le Puy led the Provençals. Next to the warlike bishop his chaplain carried the sacred standard, the Holy Lance, which, the bishop had proclaimed, would bring them total victory. Behind all these thundered the fifth squadron under Bohemond’s blood-red standards. The execution of Bohemond’s plan was exceptional. The Army of God swiftly formed a rough semicircle about a mile wide, one flank on the foothills to the west, the other on the river Orontes. Those Turkish squadrons besieging the city gates moved to harass the Franks. Reinhard of Toul, with phalanxes of French and German knights, turned to meet them, but not to defend; instead they attacked like a pack of ravenous wild dogs.