‘They were stupid,’ came the snapped response, as some kind of commotion broke out to the rear, Bohemund standing to see what was afoot. ‘Never be afraid to retreat and live to fight another day.’
The shouts came from a fast-riding messenger and, indistinct at first, they soon assumed more clarity, not least because many of the Apulian knights were grabbing their weapons and heading to remount their horses. It took a mighty shout from their leader to stop them and still they remained until the message was relayed to him, that the Durazzo soldiers were attacking his baggage and there were insufficient men left behind to drive them off.
‘Robert, take two conroys back and force them to withdraw, but no more than that.’
‘They are stealing our possessions.’
There was no doubt the conclusion that induced: such men were required to die.
‘They are a pinprick, no more, and I do not want to arrive at the court of the Emperor with the blood of a massacre on my hands. I require him to think we are come in peace.’
‘But-’
The interruption was harsh; Robert of Salerno had too much Lombard blood for Bohemund to indulge him in the same way as he did his nephew. ‘Do not dispute with me, do as I say and quickly.’
‘Do we come merely in peace?’
Tancred posed this enquiry as Robert of Salerno, shouting out commands, rushed to mount his horse, a question answered after a lengthy pause to the sound of thudding and departing hooves, a subject never satisfactorily established since the day they set out to join the Crusade, abandoning the siege of rebellious Amalfi in the process, much to the chagrin of its titular suzerain, Roger Borsa. It followed from a very public dispute about the policy being pursued by the increasingly unpredictable Borsa, an argument in which he had insulted Bohemund and even managed to alienate the more equable Roger of Sicily.
In essence it came down to which of the Guiscard’s sons the Normans would follow, which only a fool like Borsa would put to the test, especially with news of the papal crusade circulating throughout the whole of Italy and knights like Tancred extolling what might be gained by participation. Even the Great Count, though unwilling to take part himself, had seen the possibilities — to no avail; Bohemund would not be moved and without him there was little chance of raising the forces necessary.
If Borsa had provided the proverbial straw that broke his half-brother’s back, the younger man was still curious about the precise nature of Bohemund’s motives in taking up the Crusade; what were his immediate aims and more importantly what did he envisage in the longer term? He might be a good son of the Church but he was not and never had been the kind of religious zealot like Borsa, who wore hair shirts and allowed his thinking to be swayed by the intercession of priests.
Nor was it a mystery that he chafed at being a vassal to such a weakling. He had taken to the field immediately upon his father’s death in an attempt to gain his inheritance and if it had not been for Roger of Sicily, Bohemund would have been successful. That formidable power stood between him and success, always on hand to aid his weaker nephew if the stronger one looked like achieving his aim, while never so backing Borsa as to utterly cement his power. The balance, of course, gave Roger more security in Sicily than the prospect that either one should triumph.
If it needed Western aid to free Byzantine territory from the Turks it would require that same aid to hold it and prevent its recapture. The only way Alexius Comnenus could achieve security and keep that military presence in place would be to grant control of possessions to the leading Crusaders, but did they want that? It was impossible to know if those making their way east were intent on the capture of Jerusalem and personal salvation or were seeking to gain a slice of that fabled eastern wealth for themselves.
‘I have no mind to do for Byzantium that which it cannot do on its own merely for gratitude.’
‘Remission of sins once we free the Holy Places?’
That got Tancred a long look before any reply came; his nephew knew him too well to think that his primary reason for coming east. Bohemund, if he made obeisance to God, as all men must, did so with reservations brought on by too many remembrances of the times when divine intervention had been seriously lacking when it came to his life and good fortune. He had never seen a fiery cross in the sky as he went into battle, nor heard a heavenly shout of encouragement from on high as armies clashed, and if God was a doubtful champion his servants on earth were less to be admired. Had not a reigning pope, for his own cynical ends and several talents of gold, helped his father annul the marriage to Bohemund’s mother, thus rendering him and his sister as bastards?
‘There is a hard road between here and Jerusalem.’
‘But are we here as friends or, as John Comnenus feared, as enemies? You are being given free passage over territories you fought for previously but he and his uncle obviously suspect your aim to be the same as it was a decade past.’
‘He would be a fool not to consider the possibility that I have come for Constantinople but he will also reason that alone it is nought but a dream. It would take the combined might of every Crusader to even think of taking the city and even then it would need trickery too. I have not seen the defences but I have heard enough of them to know they are formidable.’
‘Could such a combination be assembled?’
‘That depends on Alexius and the trust he can create. What is being asked of us is a great endeavour. I have no desire to march several hundred leagues to the south without I know that my lines of communication are secure and cannot but believe that others will think the same.’
‘There is no advantage to Alexius in not providing full support.’
‘True, and I think he will do so as long as it suits his purpose. But what if that changes, and even worse, what if he were to be replaced?’
‘He is a strong emperor, the best for a century.’
‘Strong emperors have fallen before, to a deadly potion or the secret knife, but all these things you have raised are in the future and unknown even to God.’
A stirring of recumbent warriors and an outbreak of cheering killed off any further discussion and had Bohemund and Tancred looking to observe the return of Robert of Salerno, the most obvious sight and easy to see at a distance the severed head dripping blood at the top of his lance. Bohemund’s anger rose in line with the increased roars from his knights, who saw only the fruits of a successful encounter and nothing of what it might lead to. By the time Robert was ready to dismount the cries of praise were raining down on him from all sides so that the man in command, even if he had wanted to publicly berate him for disobedience, knew how badly it would play with the men he led. A wise leader knew when to hold his tongue, so he had little choice but to confine his disapproval to a glare, while speaking softly to Tancred.
‘Tell him, in private, that if he ever disobeys me again, and so openly, it will be his head that adorns my lance tip.’ In a louder voice, which he had to work to keep under control, Bohemund asked Robert, ‘How many did you kill?’
‘Half at least, the rest fled, but they killed many beforehand. They were mainly archers who saw our drovers as an easy target and had no stomach to face the lance.’
‘And the crossing is secure?’ Tancred enquired.
‘All our baggage and livestock will be on this side before the sun begins to dip, cousin.’
The system of imperial messengers, fast riders and a ready supply of change horses, so important to the expansion of the old Roman Empire, generally failed to function properly when the wearer of the diadem was weak or ruled for a short time. Alexius had restored it to something akin to its legendary efficiency and he required the service to function more now than he had ever needed it in the past. Thus he knew what had happened at the Vardar ford within a week, the news followed within days by a messenger from Bohemund explaining it as a mistake by an overzealous subordinate.