Stewart Binns - Crusade

‘I will take you at your word, Robert of Normandy. I will return on the morning of the day after the full moon, and we will discuss this again.’

The Count posted sentries to ensure that we kept our bargain, and rode back to his city.

Once again, Robert’s growing acumen had defused a potentially fractious situation.

Two weeks later, precisely when he had said he would, Count Raymond approached our camp and sent in his physicians to monitor our well-being. Everyone had to be examined – in particular, removing their shirts so that they could be scrutinized for the telltale rash of the fever on the chest. When it came to the turn of Adela and Estrith, they had no hesitation in exposing themselves, although they did turn their backs to the rest of us.

In Estrith’s case, she had abandoned her nun’s habit and chosen to wear the plain male attire of a minor nobleman – plain leggings and shirt, covered by a long, flowing surcoat, but minus the armour and weapons. After confirmation that our entire retinue continued to enjoy robust health, we were allowed to accompany Raymond through the gates of Toulouse.

A fine city, much more like the affluent cities of southern Europe than those of the north, Toulouse reminded us of Sicily. Moorish influence from Spain was obvious in the architecture of the buildings, all of which had the pink hue of the clay building bricks inherited from Roman times.

The most impressive of all Toulouse’s fine buildings was the Cathedral of St Sernin, which was in an advanced stage of construction. It was one of the largest buildings we had ever seen, built over an ancient crypt which, we were told, was 600 years old and contained precious relics given by the Emperor Charlemagne as well as the remains of many saints, including St Sernin himself.

Count Raymond hosted a banquet in his citadel in honour of his guests that evening. It was a grand affair which was marred by a long litany of prayer, led by the Count both before and after the food, and the discreet counsel of the stewards, who told us that he disapproved of drunkenness.

The Count, although he had the frame and demeanour of a battle-hardened warrior, was clearly a religious zealot. Well into his fifties, he sat with his son, Bertrand, a man of about thirty, who was the image of his father and who, given the way he modestly sipped at his goblet of wine, seemed to be similarly devout. Robert and I agreed that our stay would not be a raucous one. I was abstemious, but Robert proceeded to ignore the advice of the stewards and imbibed the deep-red wine of the region liberally.

Estrith was asked to sing and charmed our new host as completely as she had delighted Duke Robert. Although she was a few years older than Bertrand, he took a particular interest in her. After her performance, he leaned over to speak to me.

‘Why does she dress as a knight?’

‘Well, partly because Adela does and partly out of convenience. We are a group of brothers-in-arms.’

‘But two of you are women.’

‘It is Adela’s calling. She chooses the way of the warrior. Estrith is not a knight – in fact, she is an ordained sister of the Church and a renowned churchwright.’

‘How interesting. I would like to talk to her about our new cathedral. She and I have a lot in common. I have considered becoming ordained, and I take a particular interest in the building of St Sernin.’

I felt a distinct twinge of jealousy at Bertrand’s thinly disguised fascination for Estrith, especially as his amorous glances towards her seemed to be reciprocated in equal measure. Perhaps his religious purity applied only to drink and excluded the intoxicating effect of women – or perhaps he was simply a charlatan.

My thoughts were interrupted by Bertrand’s question.

‘And what of Adela; surely you don’t permit her to wield arms?’

‘Indeed I do. She is a very accomplished knight.’

‘I have never heard of such a thing! Women are not allowed to enter an order of knights.’

‘That is true in Christendom – although I would allow it – but she was made a knight of Islam in Sicily, as was Sweyn, by a fine man called Ibn Hamed, Emir of Calatafimi.’

The look of horror on Bertrand’s face confirmed my sudden realization that I had made a serious error in mentioning our Muslim affiliations to this Christian dogmatist. Our conversation did not last much longer, and my companion was soon engaging in animated whispers with his father.

After the feast, Count Raymond led us all to the crypt of St Sernin, where he began to lecture us about the sins of Islam and the righteousness of Christianity.

‘Nearly four hundred years ago, the Moors of Spain, those heretics who worship a false god, came within a hair’s breadth of taking this city. We were besieged for three months, a stranglehold only broken when my noble ancestor Odo, Duke of Aquitaine, appeared with his army and defeated the Arabs outside the city walls. Ten years later, the Arab general, Abd al-Rahman, brought an army over the Pyrenees to the west and conquered Bordeaux. Again, Odo ended their marauding at Poitiers and killed al-Rahman on the battlefield, saving Europe from the infidels –’

Robert, now somewhat inebriated and weary of Raymond’s hectoring, interrupted.

‘So, Raymond, does your history lesson have a point, or may we return to more entertaining matters?’

Visibly irritated by Robert’s sharp question, the Count’s voice rose in annoyance.

‘My point is very simple. The Moors are still in Spain – and, more importantly, their Muslim brothers are lords of the Holy Land. It is an abomination. They should be cleansed like vermin in a granary!’

Such invective was too much for Sweyn, who rounded on the Count, despite the fact that he had no business addressing his superior unless spoken to.

‘My Lord, why is it a problem that Jerusalem is ruled by Arabs? Their prophet, Muhammad, is no different from Christ; we all worship the same God Almighty.’

For Count Raymond, there were at least two heresies in Sweyn’s terse comment. His temper rose and his voice ascended to a yet higher pitch.

‘Prince Edgar, I hear that you let your knights dally with infidels; they would be better off learning manners.’

‘Forgive my young friend, my Lord Count, he was married to a beautiful Muslim girl, who was killed in tragic circumstances.’

‘Pity it was not by my hand; there are no beautiful Muslim girls, only faithless bitches.’

Edwin had grabbed Sweyn before he could make any move towards the Count, and he and Adela started to drag him up the spiral stairs of the crypt. I tried to bring Raymond’s homily to an end.

‘We all need rest… to our beds, Count Raymond –’

But before I could finish, the Count bellowed.

‘That young knight is not welcome in my city, neither is the she-male who cavorts with Arabs.’

Robert and I helped get Sweyn away before he could do any more damage. We hurried to our camp just outside the city.

At that point, I realized that Estrith and Bertrand had not joined us in the crypt, preferring to seek another form of entertainment rather than suffer Count Raymond’s oration on Christianity.

Duke Robert went to see Count Raymond early the next morning. He made our excuses and we were on the move in an easterly direction by early afternoon. Edwin stayed behind to finalize the sale of St Cirq Lapopie, a task he concluded with little difficulty. We had decided to avoid any further risk of infection with the putrid fever by following the Tarn as far as Florac, traversing the Massif and then heading north along the Valley of the Rhône at Montélimar.

As soon as we had settled into a comfortable pace, I took the opportunity to make a sensitive but necessary enquiry about Estrith’s nocturnal adventure the night before.