Stewart Binns - Anarchy

Eventually, we decided to return to seek a new beginning with the Latin Princes of the Holy Land. However, as soon as the decision was made, I realized that there was an element of cowardice in choosing not to return to Venice. I decided that I must come to terms with my demons and face the Doge.

When we arrived in Venice, I saw it with different eyes. Its splendour was tainted by my regrets. I had lost my Serenissima, and the beautiful city would never again beguile me as it had before. I was haunted by the thought that Livia must have imagined that we would share a life together amidst its elegant palazzi and fabled canali. But I had shattered her dream. To travel now along the waterways she loved so much, but to which she could not bear to return, was a torture almost impossible to bear.

Domenico Michele had already heard that Lady Livia was not aboard our ship. He declined to see us, asking instead to see Lady Constance and the Captain alone. I gave them a full account of our mission before they joined us at Mamure, which they rehearsed and conveyed to the Doge.

I then waited to hear the Doge’s reaction.

About an hour later, Constance appeared, looking sombre. She spoke to me in a voice that was formal and devoid of emotion.

‘His Serenity thanks you for your duty in trying to protect Lady Livia. On behalf of Venice, he wishes you well in your future endeavours. However, he asks that you do not repeat the circumstances of the voyage, or of her demise.’

She then turned and left without another word.

It was an abrupt end to our Venetian adventure. But under the circumstances, it was perhaps not surprising. The Doge had lost a sister in the most tragic of ways and obviously wanted to bring the matter to a close as quickly as possible.

I hoped that he felt no malice towards me, nor attached any blame to my conduct. I liked to think that his perfunctory dismissal of us from his service was simply his way of bringing to an end an episode on which he did not wish to dwell in any more detail. I wished that I could have shared with him my affection for Livia and my respect for the courage she had shown.

But that was out of the question.

Within the month, we were back in Antioch. The city was under the guardianship of King Baldwin II, who had become its regent and made Antioch a vassal state of his kingdom in Jerusalem. Order had been imposed on the city and a semblance of normality had returned. We took lodgings close to St George’s Gate and that evening Eadmer and I discussed our options.

I began by summing up our situation.

‘Our biggest problem in the short term is that our funds are exhausted. We need to find work in the service of one of the Latin lords – perhaps King Baldwin himself.’

Eadmer smiled at me before asking for the unpalatable truth.

‘How much do we have?’

‘I’m afraid we have just two pieces of silver, our weapons and armour, and the clothes we stand up in.’

‘You’d better have this then.’

Eadmer pushed a purse across the table. In it were at least two handfuls of pristine Venetian ducati and four gold bezants – enough to live on for a very long time.

‘Where did you get that?’

‘I requisitioned it from Livia’s dowry chest. I estimate the silver is what we’re owed for our service to the Doge. The bezants are a bonus.’

‘Eadmer, that’s a lot more than we’re entitled to.’

‘I don’t think so! Without you, none of us would have made it to Antioch. The Doge owes you far more than is in that purse.’

‘I’m not sure he’ll see it that way.’

‘Hal, there was nothing you could do to save Livia. She chose to end her life. And Prince Roger has already suffered the fate he deserves. None of it was your fault.’

In many ways, he was right. I tried not to think too much about the callousness of taking money from Livia’s dowry, and hid behind Eadmer’s estimable pragmatism.

What haunted me, as it would for years to come, was what had happened between Livia and me in the Taurus Mountains and all the horrors that had occurred afterwards. Had I known that Roger was already married and a cruel abuser of women, I would never have agreed to deliver the innocent Livia to him.

But that was all in the past; I now had to find my destiny elsewhere.

Fulham Palace, 1 January 1187

Dear Thibaud,

Winter has got much worse here in London. I haven’t left the Palace for ten days. I have caught some sort of chill and several of my scribes are ill. Bodies are found on the roads on a daily basis – people are frozen to death, the beasts are dying in their stables. We have had several blizzards and all roads to the north are closed.

I don’t want to go to St Paul’s today, but I’ve missed two services already, I can’t miss a third. I think of all the poor souls who have to venture out by necessity and pray to the Good Lord to help us survive this weather.

But enough of my tribulations. Today another year begins – a day that young people look forward to with relish, but one that older people dread. Another year on the tally stick, and not many more to go.

It is a new beginning for Harold of Hereford too: we are about to open a new chapter in his absorbing story. When you read it, my friend, you will understand why I have been so keen to get this story on to vellum. Here is a man who was a founding member of the Knights Templars and took the oath with Hugh de Payens in Jerusalem in 1119. Given all that has happened since, I think you will agree that his story is a vital part of the history of our Church.

Eadmer’s unwavering support was vital over the coming months in the Holy Land. Always loyal, he had a quiet strength that I drew on constantly. He missed England but, as he often said, his sworn duty was to me; as long as I wanted to continue my adventures, he would be at my side. His was the life of a warrior, a life of dedication and resolve based on discipline and duty. He was a constant source of inspiration to me. Sometimes he would find himself a woman, but they were only temporary assignations and he never seemed to be interested in long-term companionship and the pleasures of a family. His loyalty was to me, and to me alone, and every day I tried to remind myself how fortunate I was.

The mood among the Christians of the Holy Land after the Battle of the Field of Blood was very sombre. Defeat at the hands of the Muslims was inexplicable: were they not inferior and worshippers of a false god? Therefore, ought not the Christian cause in the name of the One True God be invincible? Word began to spread that the defeat could only have been caused by Christian sin against the Almighty. Roger of Salerno became the culprit. His blatant adulterous relationships with any woman he chose was his greatest stain, but then stories about his brutal rape of Livia started to circulate. Some of his household had survived the Field of Blood and one in particular, a steward, could be found any night of the week in the taverns of Antioch relating the lurid details.

The reaction to defeat and the sins of arrogant Christians such as Prince Roger created a wave of support for a return to the valour of the Great Crusade. It was said that twenty years after their exploits, the crusaders’ courage, sacrifice and devotion had been forgotten and that those virtues needed to be reaffirmed.

I was not a particularly religious man, but the fundamental principles of the Great Crusade appealed to me. They were the values central to the Mos Militum and the other codes of chivalry that my family had always believed in. Although the crusaders had committed many sins and behaved with unbridled barbarity on many occasions, their original cause had been laudable and their virtues admirable. It was in this context that a group of men appeared in my life who would have a profound influence on my story.