Here they rested and took sustenance near the watering places. They cut honey-sweet reeds known as sucra, greedily sucked the sweetness and moved on to gape at the former glories of Tyre. They were entertained and advised by the local Christian Maronites about the journey south: how the coastal roads had few water supplies and still more narrow perilous passes. The Army of God, however, kept to the coast road, all eyes turned inland, fearful of that flanking attack by Saracens and Turks that might drive them into the sea. Water was scarce, whilst the sandy rocks were infested with snakes and basilisks terrifying in their strikes. Men, women and children, delirious for water, grubbed greedily, Eleanor amongst them, only to be attacked by venomous snakes that turned their bodies into fiery, tormented tongues of pain. The bites, Eleanor wrote in her chronicle, made some so desperate for water that they plunged into the sea and gulped the salt-soaked waves, which only increased their thirst.
At last the Army of God broke free of the infested terrain and camped on the bed of a river that was nothing more than shallow pools along a shale-lined gulley. They followed the gulley inland on to a rocky, dirt-strewn plain dotted with fig trees and date palms. In the far distance they glimpsed the white-walled town of Ramleh, set in a forbidding dry landscape of hard-baked clay, jutting rock and wind-furrowed sand. Despite all the hardships and thirst, the army advanced cautiously, but the gates of Ramleh proved to be undefended. They passed within its walls and stared round the dingy, dirty town. Little greenery could be seen; nothing but arid dust clouds blowing through the streets and across desolate squares. The local Maronites crept cautiously out to greet them and showed the Franks the entrances to underground cisterns that fed the great bathhouses. The Franks crowded in, drank their fill and went on to the White Mosque. The cedar gates and heavy roof beams of the mosque were all black and charred, burned by the retreating Turks lest the Franks use the wood to build siege machinery. The Army of God knelt on the marble floor of the mosque as the townspeople whispered that beneath it lay the bones of one of their great patrons, the martyr St George. The Franks promptly turned the mosque into a church and elevated Robert of Rouen as its bishop. They would have dallied even longer, but Hugh, Godefroi and the Portal of the Temple continued their whispering campaign: this was not Jerusalem; they should move on.
Hugh and Godefroi had withdrawn from Raymond of Toulouse, being seen more and more in the company of the fiery Tancred. They also entertained their own visionary, a novice monk, Peter Desiderius, who constantly warned the Army of God to move towards its real destiny — Jerusalem. Tancred, however, needed little encouragement. He repeatedly voiced his demand that the army move quickly, and so, on 6 June, they reached the ancient town of Emmaus, only a few miles west of the Holy City, the very place where the Risen Christ had met two of his disciples journeying from Jerusalem. The Army of God, Peter Desiderius proclaimed, taking up the thread, must also meet the Risen Christ in Jerusalem. Tancred was determined to fulfil that vision.
In the middle of the night of 6 June, Theodore slipped into Eleanor’s tent and shook her awake. One hand across her mouth, he signalled with the other that she remain quiet. In the poor light Eleanor gazed across at Imogene, now fast asleep after returning to sob quietly to herself.
‘Listen,’ Theodore whispered, ‘Tancred has been approached by Maronites from Bethlehem. They fear the Turks might fire the town. He and a hundred knights, including Hugh, Godefroi and myself, are riding there. Do you wish to come?’
Eleanor pulled herself up.
‘We will see Jerusalem,’ Theodore added.
Eleanor needed no further urging. She quickly prepared herself and joined Theodore waiting outside. Darkness was beginning to fade, the sky lightening as they hastened towards the horse lines. Lantern horns glowed; wisps of smoke from the first fires drifted across. The yip, yip of a lonely jackal echoed, a strange contrast to the voices of the gathering men as they recited verses from the psalms.
Once they had finished their Matins, the knights donned their chain mail and helmets; girdles and belts were strapped on, long swords slipped into scabbards. Shields and lances were brought forward. No one objected to Eleanor’s presence. Some of the men nodded at her as they pulled on their loose linen robes, sure protection for their mail against the sun and dust. The war horses, all harnessed and ready, were trotted forward. The knights swung themselves into the saddle, leaning down to grasp lance and shield. Theodore positioned Eleanor, riding a small but sturdy palfrey, in the middle of the group. Tancred unfurled his scarlet and gold banner and the troop broke into a gallop, swiftly clearing the camp, leaving the lights of their picket lines winking behind them.
They thundered through the night, reaching Bethlehem in that murky twilight before dawn, riding past crumbling huts of stone, blank walls and dark alleyways. Dogs barked, the only sound as they reined in before the basalt-paved square stretching up to the Basilica of the Virgin Mary. The troop fanned out behind Tancred. The hooves of their horses clipped the stones, leather harness creaked, the jingle of mail echoed, followed by the ominous slither of swords being drawn from scabbards. Tancred, tall and dark in the saddle, cloak flapping around him, his gorgeous banner ruffled by the chill morning breeze, advanced across the square. He paused halfway and rose in his stirrups brandishing the banner.
‘Deus vult!’ he bellowed. ‘Deus vult!’ The cry was taken up by his escort, a triumphant chant of praise. As if in answer, the bells of the basilica began to peal their message. Lights appeared at windows. Doors were opened. People thronged into the square to view these dark angels on horseback who had brought deliverance to Christ’s birthplace. The double gates of the basilica were pulled back and the ancient patriarch of the town, flanked by Maronite monks carrying candles, crosses and lighted tapers, processed out to greet them even as the bells increased their clanging peals.
Tancred led his knights across the square. Eleanor dismounted and, with Theodore’s hand on her arm, followed the rest through the door into the cavernous cold nave smelling sweetly of incense and candle smoke. The Franks knelt as the dawn Mass was celebrated and then withdrew, though not before Tancred had hoisted his banner over the basilica. He also left ten knights to ensure it remained in place. Eleanor felt as if she was dreaming. The cold, hard ride and that long, gloomy nave with its tessellated floor, icons, mosaics and wall paintings. She had visited the town of Christ’s birth, and now they were riding through a narrow ravine that cut through the shadow-shrouded foothills leading to Jerusalem. They reached a plateau as the sky lightened, galloping past clumps of olive groves, stretches of pasture and ploughland. On the edge of the plateau the horsemen dismounted, holding the reins of their animals as they whispered, ‘Jerusalem! Jerusalem!’ to each other. The morning sun was rising fast behind them. Theodore and Eleanor walked to the edge. The hill below fell steeply. At the bottom lay a small church and beyond that stretched a deep, desolate gorge. On the far side of the gorge reared towering walls that seemed to have no gate. A dome gleamed above the walls, and further down from that, a squat white building caught the light of the rising sun.
‘Jerusalem!’ Theodore whispered.
Eleanor stared. No gold, silver or precious stones! No angel trumpet blast! No heavenly chorus! Nothing but a mass of masonry. A voice cried out, making her jump. She turned to look where others were pointing. In the far distance, along the broad thoroughfare leading to the city, she saw the glint of armour, the glitter of weaponry, the flashing colour of banners. The advance guard of the Army of God! Hugh gave a cry of triumph. No doubt the Portal of the Temple led the advance. The army was about to besiege Jerusalem.