Of more interest to Bohemund was the news, when his messenger returned, that one of the main crusading groups several thousand strong, led by the Lotharingian Godfrey de Bouillon, had arrived and what had transpired when the Duke of Lower Lorraine met to talk with Alexius. He sent for his nephew and together they set out to walk the encampment heads close in conversation.
‘I suspect Alexius is demanding from him the same pledge his nephew wanted from us, but neither de Bouillon or his leading captains are prepared to freely give it.’
‘And the nature of the oath?’
‘Acknowledge Alexius as suzerain, hand back to him any possessions taken back from the Turks and rely on his generosity when it comes to the rewards for success.’
‘A wise ruler rewards his own people, not strangers.’
‘A thought that will have occurred to Duke Godfrey.’
Bohemund had several traits he shared with his late father, one a gleam that came into his eye when some ploy or stratagem had just occurred to him. With the Guiscard it had often turned out to be some telling notion of how to break down a stubborn defence by subterfuge rather than force but it was not always so. Even as a young squire Tancred had observed his grandsire in his dealings with his fellow Normans as well as subject Lombards and Greeks. That curious twinkle was an indication that he could see into their souls and find the right words — or would it be bribes? — to hold them to him.
‘I sense you have a plan.’
Bohemund smiled. ‘Not a plan.’
‘Yet it must involve this Godfrey de Bouillon.’
‘Bouillon has already declined to accept that which Alexius demands, but for what reason and how strong are his objections? If he is a good leader he will know what we know, that to advance into Asia Minor puts us at the mercy of Alexius, and that increases the deeper we travel.’
‘So he may consider it prudent to secure that before setting a foot on the other side of the Bosphorus?’
‘Are you with my thinking or ahead of it?’
‘You will write to him with observations that might lead him to the conclusion you seek.’
That got a smile from Bohemund, this time a sly one. ‘And how do you think he will respond?’ The response was a shrug of ignorance from the younger man. ‘He will not, if he has any sense. De Bouillon does not know me and Alexius will seek to ensure that any message coming from me or any of the other leaders are his to read.’
That was the way of the Byzantine court: a secret was only that in terms of its value and any emperor would pay high for access to anything received by Duke Godfrey. Yet if Bohemund was serious all he would do, even if he was careful, was alert the Emperor to a potential threat.
‘It is one of which he is already aware, Tancred,’ Bohemund replied, when his nephew voiced those concerns. ‘Alexius sees me as a hazard, witnessed by his instructions to his nephew not to let us land without a pledge of loyalty.’
‘And you see value in increasing the knowledge of that threat?’
‘I will have to deal with him when we get to the city and it may be that I cannot avoid making the promises he requires, but an emperor with concerns is one more to my liking than a man free of worry. I am seeking to remind him that any such undertaking as a pledge of loyalty runs both ways.’
‘So it is a ploy to get him to keep his word?’
‘It is a means of reminding him what risk he takes if he breaks it.’
‘You cannot be certain he will get to know the contents of what you write.’
‘I suspect that de Bouillon cannot emit a quiet fart that Alexius will not know about within the hour. This might take longer but I have no doubt the contents will be gossiped about by someone.’
‘And if you’re wrong?’
‘Then no harm will be done and de Bouillon will know what I would hint to him if we were talking together face-to-face.’
The letter, when it reached Godfrey de Bouillon, came as a surprise merely by the name and seal of the sender — why would a stranger write to him and have it delivered by a messenger who refused to give his own name? He had heard of the Count of Taranto, of course, who had not, for his deeds were the stuff of travellers’ tales. Nonsense mostly, Bouillon thought; no one was as gigantic as the fellow was reputed to be and no one could have carried out the actions in battle ascribed to him. Bohemund was of the same mystical cut as his father. Tales of the activities of the Guiscard had travelled the length and breadth of Europe and the way he was spoken of was just as foolish as the gossip told of his bastard son.
The letter was, in any case, strange, talking of security of supply being paramount before the Crusaders ever crossed into Asia Minor, that to do so without concrete assurances would be folly of the highest order. Read one way it was just that, a set of concerns, but it seemed when perused more than once it had another meaning, only a hint, but there, that the best way to secure the necessary line of communication was to have firm control of it.
‘Is it truly from Bohemund?’ asked his brother, Baldwin, with whom he had discussed the contents at length and to no real avail; it was still ambiguous. ‘They are famed for their trickery in these parts and it may be this has been forged to test you.’
‘The messenger was a Norman, or at least he spoke with their nonsensical twang.’
Baldwin had to look away then to hide his expression; he saw his elder brother as a bit slow and too pious for his own good, albeit he was a doughty fighter and a talented commander in the field. But he was also the barrier to security and opportunity for an impoverished younger son who stood to succeed to his title; Godfrey was childless and given his attachment to chastity likely to remain so. He had sold off great swathes of territory to the Church to fund his Crusade, eager to gain absolution for sins no one but him thought he had committed, and he had thus severely depleted what could be inherited. If nothing could be found on this venture Baldwin would be left with his small demesne and a straitened purse to add to the slight comfort of sibling goodwill.
‘There are Normans in Byzantine service, brother.’
‘I do not like this much,’ Godfrey responded, waving the letter.
‘Then best not reply; let Bohemund stew if it is from him and wonder at your thoughts.’
‘I have no wish to make an enemy of him by seeming arrogant.’
That, to Baldwin, was typical of his elder brother: he always saw his own faults before those of others. ‘Better him a foe than Alexius.’
Godfrey dithered, but Baldwin pressed home that as the best course of action and eventually persuaded his brother to give the letter to him for safekeeping. He also made sure, for a fee and in a very short time, that the contents were copied and made known to the imperial palace. Let the Emperor decide if each phrase written had a double meaning.
CHAPTER FIVE
Alexius Comnenus was in receipt of other clarifications regarding the activities of the Apulians over the following months, which stretched well into the new year of Our Lord 1097. Being himself an experienced general he was well aware of how hard it was to control thousands of fighting men, so he took at face value Bohemund’s apologies for the transgressions of his soldiers: a small fortress sacked against his wishes, those selling supplies beaten when the buyers thought they were overcharging, in one case a whole town set upon for a refusal to sell them cattle; such lapses were to be expected.
More alarming were reports of what was happening with the body that had followed as soon as improving weather allowed them to cross the Adriatic, this led by the Duke of Normandy, Stephen of Blois and Robert of Flanders. The marauding tribes that had troubled the Apulians were bad enough, but the locals en route were sick of feeding passing armies, added to which the supply of the things necessary for their well-being, requested by the imperial governors, had dried up. This obliged them to forage for supplies and since there was a fine line between that and outright sequestration there had been uprisings to which the local Byzantine commanders had felt obliged to give military support to those over whom they ruled on behalf of the Emperor.