Stewart Binns - Crusade

Adela laughed out loud. ‘A difficult pregnancy – it’s the conception that would have been the difficult part, with me in this condition!’

There was laughter all round and the four of them embraced warmly. Robert and I looked at one another. We both smiled. It was a remarkably simple solution, but one that could only work through an exceptional rapport between Estrith and Adela.

I had to ask the question.

‘Can the two of you deal with this – especially you, Estrith?’

‘As my father said, it is in the best interests of the child and of the Brethren, so we will make it work. I know that the bond between mother and child is very strong, but I’m not giving my child up. We will still be a family, and I will see the child all the time.’

‘That could make things worse, not better.’

‘Perhaps, but I think I can cope with being Aunt Estrith rather than Mamma. Adela will be better at that.’

Adela seemed relaxed; her demeanour was certainly very different from the day before.

‘I’m not sure I will make a better mother – it’s the last thing I ever thought would happen. But the only things that matter are the six of us and our new member – the little beast. And mark my words, girl or boy, it will be a little monster; I will make sure of that!’

Everyone laughed at a typical Adela comment, but I had one more question.

‘All you have ever wanted to be is a warrior. You have achieved that and won the admiration of your fellow knights and thousands of Crusaders. Are you prepared to give that up to raise a child, one that isn’t even yours?’

‘Well, it certainly helps that I have achieved what I’ve achieved. The welcome we received when we returned from the raid on the Seljuks was everything I had been looking for. But I’m now forty-three years old, I don’t have many warrior days left – especially with the disadvantages I have as a woman barely five and half feet tall. Hereward and I talked for a long time last night. He explained some things which helped me realize that perhaps I have finally buried the past. He also told me some home truths about what is eating my backside. I may not survive at all. And if I do, I may not be able to walk properly, let alone ride a horse. But this child offers me a new challenge – one that I’ll meet head on – the first part of which is to survive for at least nine months so that our plan can succeed.’

Robert nodded and smiled at me; perhaps it might work, after all.

By midday next day, Estrith and Adela had left for the coast and we threw ourselves into the complex business of laying siege to the mightiest fortress in the eastern Mediterranean.

Hereward proved to be right about the length of the siege of Antioch. The Crusaders faced interminable difficulties, unable to encircle the vast walls completely. Yaghi-Siyan, the wily governor of the city – a former slave from Turcoman, far to the east – was able to bring in provisions from time to time and had an army formidable enough to sally forth occasionally from the walls and attack us, causing mayhem, much loss of life and a significant lowering of morale.

The winter threw itself into the conflict and became a key part of the city’s defence. Rain, mud, and even snow, made life miserable for the besiegers in their tents, while those under siege enjoyed the comforts of their firesides, kitchens and beds. Although some supplies were getting through from the Emperor’s base at St Symeon, Yaghi-Siyan’s allies – Ridwan, Sultan of Aleppo, and his brother, Duqaq, Emir of Damascus – made constant attacks on the supply lines and even engaged the Christian army in full-scale battle.

It was a long and debilitating winter, which seemed to go for ever.

We had to build defensive towers of our own to protect our supply lines from the coast. By May of 1098, six months into the siege, our army was demoralized and, through the ravages of war, famine and disease, had been reduced to fewer than 25,000 men, with no more than 1,000 war horses, none of which were heavy Norman destriers.

Inevitably, the Princes began to argue about tactics and strategy and more blatant self-interest emerged, especially when news reached us that Baldwin of Boulogne’s audacious adventure into Mesopotamia had become an outrageous success. With a force of barely 200 knights, he had managed to conquer the ancient and wealthy city of Edessa and create a Christian county, installing himself as its potentate.

Bohemond of Taranto now revealed that he wished to be made Prince of Antioch after the city had been taken and that he would not continue with the Crusade unless his demand was met. The Council of War was convened but it broke up in deadlock, with the Princes screaming at one another.

Then a new threat united us once more. Reports began to arrive that Kerbogha, Atabeg of Mosul, was approaching with a huge army, said to be over 50,000 strong, to relieve the city. With our reduced numbers, we were in a very vulnerable position and could easily end up trapped like rats in a barrel between the towering walls of the city we were besieging and a formidable advancing army.

At this point, we suffered more desertions. Stephen of Blois, one of the staunchest supporters of the Crusade, had had enough. His will was broken and news of an approaching horde of Seljuk Turks was the final straw. He and his large contingent took flight in the middle of the night and made for the coast at Alexandretta.

Tacitius then announced that he was taking his Byzantine contingent back to Constantinople. He kept his real reasons to himself, saying only that he had been ordered to return. Panic and anger spread throughout the army – panic because of the encroaching Turks, and anger because the besieged seemed to be faring better than the besiegers. Another Council of War was called; this one was much more amiable and focused.

Raymond of Toulouse summarized the situation.

‘My Lords, our siege is now in its seventh month. We are slowly strangling the city, but it has a thick neck and our grip is not as strong as it once was. We have fought off Ridwan and Duqaq, but now Kerbogha approaches with many allies and mercenaries. We have a ready-made fortress from which to defend ourselves; it stands behind us. Unfortunately, we are not welcome inside! What are we to do?’

The Count’s droll introduction made everyone smile and lessened the tension in the gathering.

Robert got up to speak.

‘My Lords, Count Raymond, may I offer the floor to Godwin of Ely, an Englishman who served as Captain of Emperor Alexius’s Varangian Guard for many years? He is a good friend of the Norman contingent and of Prince Edgar’s English knights.’

The Count looked at the other Princes, who all gave their approval.

‘Thank you, Duke Robert. My noble Lords, Count Raymond, over the past few days one of our knights has spent several hours inside the walls of Antioch.’

There were gasps of admiration around the room and some incredulity. Although our encirclement of the city was greater than it had been, it was still possible for the defenders to get in and out in small numbers under cover of darkness.

‘A young knight in the service of Prince Edgar, Sir Sweyn of Bourne – who, you will remember, is the knight who led the daring attack on Qilich Arslan’s baggage train – disguised himself as an Arab and mingled with a group of scavengers returning to the city. He is fortunate to be dark-skinned and can speak some Arabic.’

I looked at Robert, who shook his head. Hereward’s announcement was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me.

‘My Lords, would you allow Sweyn of Bourne to give you his report?’

There were enthusiastic approvals all round. Sweyn looked confident and poised as he started to speak.