this, for it is not fitting that I should fail to be merciful. Leave the city and your clothing, banners, weapons and armour, come out naked and I promise you will all die quickly, rather than the slow death you now face. And because Allah is merciful he will take to his bosom anyone who turns to the Prophet and the true faith.’
Peter opened his mouth to speak but the sharp command to take both he and Firuz back to Antioch cut right across the attempt. As they left the pavilion Firuz whispered that Peter should walk slowly and look sad, an admonition that was in fact unnecessary, for the older man was near to stumbling and tears ran down his cheeks.
Clearly he feared what was coming, which made a fellow who hadconverted twice wonder at why a preacher who claimed to be so holy and had spent his life spreading the gospel and underlining the route to salvation was so frightened to meet his maker?
It took time enough to assemble the council and that allowed Bohemund to question Firuz about what he had observed. The Armenian was truthful: the host was great, well armed and seemed in good spirits, with no sign of dissension amongst the various groupings. Antioch being a trading city was a magnet to merchants from all over the interior, so Firuz had, by what they wore on their heads and the colouring of their garments, been able to identify the different clans and sub-faiths that made up Kerbogha’s army, not without a sense of wonder that such grouping, famed for their internecine conflicts, could ever come together. In his opinion this was only made possible by the evil reputation of their general.
‘Tell me everything, from the moment you entered the camp to the time you left.’
That took a while, with Bohemund listening and saying not a word, until a call came to say that the council was assembled and his presence was required. The air he adopted when he entered the chamber, of seeming confidence, stood in stark contrast to the looks of gloom by which he was greeted and he maintained that as the message Peter had been given was relayed in all its barbarous clarity.
‘Do you think it true about the Emperor?’ Vermandois asked, in a manner that spoke of near despair.
‘I cannot see,’ Normandy replied, ‘why Kerbogha would lie, and, if there was threat from the north, would he still be in his full strength where he is camped?’
Robert of Flanders pitched in. ‘Sense would dictate he moves tomeet that threat if it exists. It takes little of his forces to keep us bottled up.’
‘Then we must do what he least expects,’ said Bohemund softly.
‘What do you suggest, Count Bohemund?’ Adémar asked.
‘We must fight him and beat him, but on terms of our choosing.’
‘Easily advanced,’ Vermandois scoffed, ‘but how do you think that can be achieved?’
‘Surely if the Holy Lance has a purpose, it is to aid us in that!’
The reactions to those words were mixed, but Raymond of Toulouse was openly irritated – Bohemund’s scepticism about the relic and how it was discovered had not remained a secret for the very simple reason he had made no attempt that it should.
Godfrey of Bouillon spoke next. ‘Whatever the Holy Lance brings to our cause, Count Bohemund has the right of it. We stay here within the walls and starve like curs or we die like men in battle.’
‘Outside the walls,’ Bohemund insisted.
This was said with a grateful look at Godfrey, whose views carried weight. That there was mutual regard was true; Bohemund, with the aid of Tancred, had, a year past, saved Godfrey’s life when he was about to be killed by a bear that had already savaged him severely. Yet he would not grant an opinion based on gratitude just for the sake of that; if Godfrey spoke it was with honesty.
‘We can barely muster a hundred fit horses,’ Raymond protested.
‘And if we had ten thousand I would not employ them. To go to Kerbogha would be fatal, for that allows him to choose the field of battle,
Peter opened his mouth to speak but the sharp command to take both he and Firuz back to Antioch cut right across the attempt. As they left the pavilion Firuz whispered that Peter should walk slowly and look sad, an admonition that was in fact unnecessary, for the older man was near to stumbling and tears ran down his cheeks.
Clearly he feared what was coming, which made a fellow who hadconverted twice wonder at why a preacher who claimed to be so holy and had spent his life spreading the gospel and underlining the route to salvation was so frightened to meet his maker?
It took time enough to assemble the council and that allowed Bohemund to question Firuz about what he had observed. The Armenian was truthful: the host was great, well armed and seemed in good spirits, with no sign of dissension amongst the various groupings. Antioch being a trading city was a magnet to merchants from all over the interior, so Firuz had, by what they wore on their heads and the colouring of their garments, been able to identify the different clans and sub-faiths that made up Kerbogha’s army, not without a sense of wonder that such grouping, famed for their internecine conflicts, could ever come together. In his opinion this was only made possible by the evil reputation of their general.
‘Tell me everything, from the moment you entered the camp to the time you left.’
That took a while, with Bohemund listening and saying not a word, until a call came to say that the council was assembled and his presence was required. The air he adopted when he entered the chamber, of seeming confidence, stood in stark contrast to the looks of gloom by which he was greeted and he maintained that as the message Peter had been given was relayed in all its barbarous clarity.
‘Do you think it true about the Emperor?’ Vermandois asked, in a manner that spoke of near despair.
‘I cannot see,’ Normandy replied, ‘why Kerbogha would lie, and, if there was threat from the north, would he still be in his full strength where he is camped?’
Robert of Flanders pitched in. ‘Sense would dictate he moves tomeet that threat if it exists. It takes little of his forces to keep us bottled up.’
‘Then we must do what he least expects,’ said Bohemund softly.
‘What do you suggest, Count Bohemund?’ Adémar asked.
‘We must fight him and beat him, but on terms of our choosing.’
‘Easily advanced,’ Vermandois scoffed, ‘but how do you think that can be achieved?’
‘Surely if the Holy Lance has a purpose, it is to aid us in that!’
The reactions to those words were mixed, but Raymond of Toulouse was openly irritated – Bohemund’s scepticism about the relic and how it was discovered had not remained a secret for the very simple reason he had made no attempt that it should.
Godfrey of Bouillon spoke next. ‘Whatever the Holy Lance brings to our cause, Count Bohemund has the right of it. We stay here within the walls and starve like curs or we die like men in battle.’
‘Outside the walls,’ Bohemund insisted.
This was said with a grateful look at Godfrey, whose views carried weight. That there was mutual regard was true; Bohemund, with the aid of Tancred, had, a year past, saved Godfrey’s life when he was about to be killed by a bear that had already savaged him severely. Yet he would not grant an opinion based on gratitude just for the sake of that; if Godfrey spoke it was with honesty.
‘We can barely muster a hundred fit horses,’ Raymond protested.
‘And if we had ten thousand I would not employ them. To go to Kerbogha would be fatal, for that allows him to choose the field of battle,
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