Jack Ludlow - Soldier of Crusade

Back in his section of the encampment Bohemund called his captains together and ordered an immediate move, his lances to travel fast and the milities to follow; he wanted the first thing that Yaghi Sayan spied from his citadel to be his banner.

Robert, Count of Flanders, was deputed to take a strong party of a thousand knights on a detour to capture the town of Artah, which controlled the road north-east and due east to Marash, Aleppo and Edessa. He arrived to find the town in Armenian hands, the locals having revolted and chased out a Turkish garrison that was reluctant to remain in any case, having heard that the Crusade was coming their way. The Armenians happily accepted a garrison of crusading knights and were equally pleased to have a banner of the County of Flanders fly from their citadel.

For the rest, with the Apulians in the lead, the only place to safely cross the Orontes was at a spot called the Iron Bridge, an odd appellation for an arched edifice made of stone that dated from Roman times or even earlier. No doubt there was some local legend of an ancient action to account for the name but it was not anything to trouble the host enough to enquire. They were pleased the bridge was unguarded and even more delighted, indeed surprised, when having crossed it they entered a flat plain in the full glory of its flowering, fed with water by a river in strong flow.

Yaghi Sayan, who should have sown the whole area with salt to deny them forage, had destroyed nothing. There was grain in plentiful supply, fruit on the trees and vegetables, the second harvest, growing in the fields while the fruits of the first harvest of the year were yet to be consumed. Livestock was plentiful and the population, being Armenian, was only too pleased to both greet and trade with these strange creatures from beyond their shores, while in the distance rising into a midday haze, they could see the massive twin hills that formed a backdrop to the city they were about to besiege.

Even to a warrior who had seen Palermo and had mighty Bari as a fief, it was sobering for Bohemund to examine Antioch when they got close enough to see the details of the fortifications, especially at the gate he had chosen to act against. Above them lay the top of Mount Silpius, while adjacent to that and only marginally smaller, Mount Staurin had set upon it Yaghi Sayan’s citadel, itself a hard place to assault and capture should they ever get close, even more so given it was fronted by a steep escarpment.

From the flat ground on which the Apulians made camp the walls ran very quickly up a scrub-covered incline that would defy any man to walk upright — it was one for a scrabbling ascent at best made even more so by the loose screed of small stones underfoot — while all the way up there was a stout and near unassailable wall interspersed with dozens of towers. That crested the high summit of Mount Staurin and continued across a high valley lying just below the peaks of both mountains in which was set, as part of the main defensive walls, the formidable citadel; it was sobering to reflect that if it was like this on the northern approach, it was even steeper and more taxing to the south.

‘As you can observe, Uncle,’ Tancred said, pointing to the citadel, ‘we can do nothing in preparation without that the Turk will see it.’

That was true; the whole plain would be laid out like a panorama from that high elevation. ‘Let him first see we are determined.’

‘Do you have a thought as to why he left all this food unspoilt?’

‘I sense you are asking me a question, Tancred, to which you have your own answer.’

The two men exchanged grins, for it was no less than the truth, as the younger man replied, ‘I think he hoped we would pass on and leave him in peace.’

‘I think the same, but it was a foolish gambit. Only a madman would leave such a potent city untouched at his back.’

‘Or is it that he does not fear us, and hopes to see our bones from his citadel when the food runs out?’

‘One day, nephew, I hope you and I get to ask him the answer.’

In taking up their area of responsibility every crusading contingent took precautions to prepare for an immediate sortie by the garrison, indeed they did not expect to make their dispositions unmolested. Yet nothing happened for days; they were left to settle in, to eat well, drink wine, sleep soundly and celebrate their daily Mass with the numerous priests that accompanied the host. Camp wives, who were plentiful, settled in to look after their menfolk, which, much to the disgust of Peter the Hermit and Godfrey de Bouillon, included the more elevated divines, though not Bishop Ademar.

The whole turned into more of a settlement than a military camp and this lasted for one surprising week, then another. This left the princes with many questions but no answers, though it provided ample time to reconnoitre those areas not occupied as well as assess just how difficult it would be to shut off the city from resupply, very necessary if attrition was to work. Some wit, part of a party of horsemen reconnoitring the narrow track on the eastern flank of Antioch, having heard the inappropriate name of the Iron Bridge, decided that the equally stone-built point of entry and egress at the end of the valley should be called the Iron Gate as a measure of the kind of resolve that would be needed to invest and close it.

Not to be outdone, the Apulians named their gate after St Paul of Tarsus, where they had lost so many men murdered in their sleep. A dead dog cast over the walls where the Duke of Normandy and Raymond of Toulouse were camped gave the next one south its name while the third gate was more prosaically termed the Gate of the Duke after Godfrey de Bouillon’s title.

The Bridge Gate was obvious but no one was quite sure how the last of these edifices got to be called the St George’s Gate, probably more a patron saint of someone than for any other reason.

Mobile patrols were kept active, especially on the far side of the river, even if it was a long slog to the nearest crossing. Armenians and Syrians continued to be expelled or flee from the city, the suspicion that they were not all they seemed impossible not to consider after Nicaea, which, if true, meant that Yaghi Siyan knew much more about them than they did about him or his intentions; did he wish them gone or was he content to lull them into a false sense of security?

That period of peace broke on the garrison’s first sortie, something they could do with impunity given half their gates were able to open and close at will, with nothing outside to impede them that could not be seen from the high citadel. It was to Bohemund’s St Paul’s Gate that they directed their first attack, using the western slope of Mount Staurin to assemble in plain view on a relatively flat ledge, then rain down arrows on the Apulian lines. Caught unawares and without mail or shields several knights were wounded, while one woman, the camp wife of a foot soldier, was killed outright.

To fight off such an attack was difficult; the men on duty and properly clad for battle sought, under Robert of Salerno, to advance up the steep slope of loose stones and scrub bushes under a hail of missiles that made the assent doubly hazardous since it was near impossible for them to both climb and protect themselves. They also faced the added danger of larger rocks deliberately set in motion to roll down the hillside and maim them, and they did not manage to even make contact. The Turks withdrew when their supply of arrows ran out, jeering as they retired, with Bohemund making a swift move to counter the threat.

‘We will need to make up screens behind which we can shelter, for this will not be their last attempt using that tactic.’