pound them with flails and skin them. The vagrants would boil the meat in caldrons over their cooking fires. The smell of simmering human flesh wafted to the tops of the walls, where Turkish soldiers looked in disgust.
When the news of the “feast” reached Bohemond, he and several lords went to investigate. Tancred and Leif walked with them to the ragged encampment of vagabonds.
They came upon the ribald King Tafur and his followers seated on the ground, who mockingly complained in French, “But there is no bread!”
Others laughed, “ Voici mardi gras !” ‘This is a party!’
The feudal lords, wearing their fur mantles, watched them in silence.
“How do you feel?” Bohemond inquired.
Tafur responded, “I feel revived. If only I had something in the way of wine to go with this!”
A lord laughed. “Sir King, you shall have it.” He sent his servant at once to fetch a jar of his own good wine for the monarch.
Tancred caught the eye of Leif and gestured to the summit of the gray wall of Antioch where the Turkish sentries stood watching the cannibalism. They shouted down in anger.
“What do they say?” King Tafur asked.
“They say your fine taste in food compels them to show you a kindness,” Tancred interpreted.
“A kindness?”
“They will execute all barbarian prisoners tomorrow, and catapult their heads over the wall for you to eat as well.”
***
In the days ahead a decision was made to travel farther from Antioch in search of food. Nearly twenty thousand knights gathered to ride with Bohemond and Robert of Flanders on a desperate foraging expedition. Tancred rode ahead of the army to scout. Hakeem must have found it safe enough to join him, for he approached Tancred from a distant rocky area.
“Hakeem, there may be trouble at the Castle of Hohms. Rolf Redwan has not been seen since Bishop Basel came from Constantinople with Helena and her mother, Adrianna.”
“I will go and spy it out.”
“Send me word if there is any news of Helena’s presence. I will come.”
Hakeem took his falcon and was about to turn and ride when they saw a massive army of Seljuk Turks proceeding toward them.
“I have never seen so many Turks,” Hakeem whispered.
Was this the army led by Kerbogha for the relief of Antioch? Tancred wondered, his energy rising as he speculated whether Kalid was with them.
He turned to leave when Hakeem shouted, “Bohemond has ridden ahead!”
Robert of Flanders had also ridden forward, oblivious to the danger. Tancred and Hakeem drove hard toward the knights.
“Escape!” Tancred shouted at Hakeem over the wind. “The knights will take you for one of Muslims!”
“I will not desert you, Jehan!”
“Depart, friend! Ride to the castle! It is there I need you!”
Hakeem hesitated, then signaled a salute and headed off toward the distant rocks from which he had come. The falcon soared after him.
The Seljuks came as if from a desert mirage. They were a force composed entirely of horsemen, carrying strong short bows and scimitars and their curved stabbing knives, called yataghans. Each of them handled his mount with the ease of a master horseman. They weaved back and forth as if to music, moving in formations that were strange to the skills of the western knights. A charge by Robert’s men was impossible as they were engulfed and taken by surprise. A barrage of arrows struck, followed by a charge. Tancred smashed his sword into a rider who leaped past him. The Seljuks kept coming, pressing them, dividing their ranks, and in the distance the drums beat and the high shout of “Allah! Allah!” rang through the hills. Robert’s knights of Flanders were falling, yet they fought on tenaciously, in spite of overwhelming odds. As men were struck from their mounts, others grabbed fallen weapons and swung them savagely into the Muslim charge. Tancred struck again and again, and still the Seljuks sent fresh cavalry into the battle. The men of Flanders held. The
When the news of the “feast” reached Bohemond, he and several lords went to investigate. Tancred and Leif walked with them to the ragged encampment of vagabonds.
They came upon the ribald King Tafur and his followers seated on the ground, who mockingly complained in French, “But there is no bread!”
Others laughed, “ Voici mardi gras !” ‘This is a party!’
The feudal lords, wearing their fur mantles, watched them in silence.
“How do you feel?” Bohemond inquired.
Tafur responded, “I feel revived. If only I had something in the way of wine to go with this!”
A lord laughed. “Sir King, you shall have it.” He sent his servant at once to fetch a jar of his own good wine for the monarch.
Tancred caught the eye of Leif and gestured to the summit of the gray wall of Antioch where the Turkish sentries stood watching the cannibalism. They shouted down in anger.
“What do they say?” King Tafur asked.
“They say your fine taste in food compels them to show you a kindness,” Tancred interpreted.
“A kindness?”
“They will execute all barbarian prisoners tomorrow, and catapult their heads over the wall for you to eat as well.”
***
In the days ahead a decision was made to travel farther from Antioch in search of food. Nearly twenty thousand knights gathered to ride with Bohemond and Robert of Flanders on a desperate foraging expedition. Tancred rode ahead of the army to scout. Hakeem must have found it safe enough to join him, for he approached Tancred from a distant rocky area.
“Hakeem, there may be trouble at the Castle of Hohms. Rolf Redwan has not been seen since Bishop Basel came from Constantinople with Helena and her mother, Adrianna.”
“I will go and spy it out.”
“Send me word if there is any news of Helena’s presence. I will come.”
Hakeem took his falcon and was about to turn and ride when they saw a massive army of Seljuk Turks proceeding toward them.
“I have never seen so many Turks,” Hakeem whispered.
Was this the army led by Kerbogha for the relief of Antioch? Tancred wondered, his energy rising as he speculated whether Kalid was with them.
He turned to leave when Hakeem shouted, “Bohemond has ridden ahead!”
Robert of Flanders had also ridden forward, oblivious to the danger. Tancred and Hakeem drove hard toward the knights.
“Escape!” Tancred shouted at Hakeem over the wind. “The knights will take you for one of Muslims!”
“I will not desert you, Jehan!”
“Depart, friend! Ride to the castle! It is there I need you!”
Hakeem hesitated, then signaled a salute and headed off toward the distant rocks from which he had come. The falcon soared after him.
The Seljuks came as if from a desert mirage. They were a force composed entirely of horsemen, carrying strong short bows and scimitars and their curved stabbing knives, called yataghans. Each of them handled his mount with the ease of a master horseman. They weaved back and forth as if to music, moving in formations that were strange to the skills of the western knights. A charge by Robert’s men was impossible as they were engulfed and taken by surprise. A barrage of arrows struck, followed by a charge. Tancred smashed his sword into a rider who leaped past him. The Seljuks kept coming, pressing them, dividing their ranks, and in the distance the drums beat and the high shout of “Allah! Allah!” rang through the hills. Robert’s knights of Flanders were falling, yet they fought on tenaciously, in spite of overwhelming odds. As men were struck from their mounts, others grabbed fallen weapons and swung them savagely into the Muslim charge. Tancred struck again and again, and still the Seljuks sent fresh cavalry into the battle. The men of Flanders held. The
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