Jack Ludlow - Soldier of Crusade

They sought to fight, but the odds were numerically against them as well as the tactical situation; they were disordered whereas the Normans were in close to full control, and that was not improved when they started to go down in droves to the couched lances. If there was a leader he had lost the battle before it started, for he could exercise no command that would save his men other than individual flight and, worse for his survival, those to the rear of his leading cavalry, unaware of what they faced, came on pell-mell into the battle, pushing forward their fellows into the rapidly closing jaws of the Norman maw.

The Turks died in droves; forced in upon themselves they fought as bravely as they could, but once more, when it came to even numbers the Normans, in their physical attributes and weapons, outmatched them in every way. For every one that died, another two were wounded to become a prisoner and when the battle was done the Turks had lost so many men to both that Bohemund knew the threat from Harim to be quashed.

The prisoners were brought back to Antioch to be paraded before the walls, a taunt to the defenders to tell them that their situation had gone from sound to questionable: without the support from Harim, the Crusaders’ supplies would increase and theirs would diminish. The Turks jeered at that, so to still their mockery the men Bohemund had captured were brought into plain view and beheaded by a single blow of a Crusader sword, their heads then catapulted over the battlements.

The Turks, if they could not match the numbers, sent out a sneak sortie and caught a high divine, the Archdeacon of Metz, sharing an assignation with a comely young Armenian girl in one of the apple orchards. The cleric, clearly bent on seduction, lost his head immediately, the girl and his skull being taken back into Antioch, she to be, the besiegers were informed, a sound receptacle of the juices of Islam. They knew what that meant: she had been raped into stupefaction. Then she was beheaded like her potential lover, both their heads fired back along with contempt.

Day after day the Armenian patriarch of Antioch, an elderly man as befitted his office, was brought to the walls to be hung upside down while the soles of his feet were beaten with rods, an affliction he bore with more fortitude than those who observed his ill-treatment. Designed to drive good Christians to fury, it succeeded better than the Turks could have supposed and fired up the very people they sought to taunt to a level of barbarity that flew in the face of their stated beliefs.

For all the successes enjoyed by the besiegers, hunger soon became the abiding curse; all their plans for regular supplies foundered on the inability of those who had promised to deliver, and that continued even after the threat of Turkish interdiction had been removed. Then there came weather that was a surprise to the majority if not those who had a wider knowledge of the world; not just rain and cold, which they thought the region free from, but heavy falls of snow that completely cut off the routes to Antioch for even those trying to meet their commitments.

Supplies by sea, even after the Crusaders had captured and opened the southern port of Latakia, on a benign wind a day’s sailing from Cyprus, were delayed by storms, and it had to be added that the island was a place of no abundance. The locals fed themselves first and no amount of payment would tempt them to risk hunger for the sake of a cause of which most of them had no notion. Foraging, from an area that had borne a heavy burden already, was producing less and less and the store of available sustenance was so depleted as to cause serious concern.

Naturally the fighting men were fed first, which meant that the pilgrims without the means to buy at inflated prices starved, and all the pleas of people like Peter the Hermit fell on deaf ears when it came to the Council of Princes. They worried about the health of their soldiers and it was far from good — disease always stalked siege lines and Antioch was no different, but if the men were weakened by hunger the death toll would escalate to dangerous proportions.

With no reinforcements coming in because of the season it was vital to maintain the numbers they could now muster and, with that in mind, it was decided that the act of foraging had to be extended beyond what would be considered safe or advisable in normal times. The decision was not unanimous that it should be so, especially given the lack of fit horses due to the need to put the feeding of men before equines, and it was this over which Raymond of Toulouse and the Normans came into open conflict.

‘You are talking about sending away a high proportion of our cavalry strength and half our milities . What of Antioch?’

‘The Count of Toulouse,’ said Robert of Normandy in reply, ‘does not seem to accept that without we can feed our men, there will be no siege to press home.’

‘While the Duke of Normandy cannot grasp that Antioch must be in as dire straits as we. It is no time to relax our grip. If we must send men away let it be to a place where there is food.’

‘Would not that equally deplete our strength?’ Bohemund enquired.

Raymond had taken a position on the matter and over the preceding weeks he had become fixed in his opinion that he knew how to press home a siege better than his peers, which gave Ademar a real dilemma, for he lacked the knowledge to know who was right and who was wrong. This made what he saw as diplomacy and some saw as fence sitting harder to maintain.

‘At least, Count Bohemund, we might see those we favour back to good health.’

‘Good! When they return they can bury the bones of those left behind.’

While Raymond sought to impose his views, Godfrey de Bouillon had moved to a position of much influence for his sound common sense as well as his complete lack of conceit and, while Ademar had seen his authority diminish, that of the Duke of Lower Lorraine had risen to the point that when he spoke all listened.

‘The stocks of food are low and they are not being replenished in enough quantity. I would also remind you, My Lords, that we have another duty, which if it does not transcend what we are engaged in must have an effect on our thinking.’

‘These pestilential pilgrims,’ Vermandois spat. ‘They eat food that should go to the men who fight. If you had listened to me after Nicaea it is a burden we would have shed.’

‘Would it matter,’ Godfrey responded, ‘if they starved in Bythnia or here in Syria?’

‘The Emperor would have fed and cared for them.’

‘As he did previously, Count Hugh? Do you not recall we walked over their bones on the road to Nicaea? I would like to see you put that point to the sainted Peter who led them. He was in my pavilion today pleading that his pilgrims be treated equally and as Christians.’

‘We lack the stores,’ Robert of Normandy insisted. ‘We have no more than a week of half rations and no idea of what will come in the days ahead.’

‘I must have a formal proposal,’ Ademar insisted, ‘so I can put it to the vote.’

That got him a jaundiced look from Raymond, who expected support from the papal legate who had, to his mind, come here on the tail of his surcoat. But the Bishop was on the horns of a dilemma, still seeking to maintain harmony when he could see it fracturing before his eyes. It had come to the point that without Godfrey de Bouillon to aid him in keeping the peace there would have been constant dissent and disagreement.

‘I propose,’ said Normandy, ‘that we send out every pack animal and ox cart we can muster, with men to both protect and lead them, to proceed to the plateau known as the Jabal as Summaq, in which we are told food is plentiful, and bring back enough to help sustain us until the spring.’