Boutoumites called out his title once they had come within talking distance, following that with his own name and title of Curopalates, which got him a nod but little else.
‘Should I be flattered?’ Bohemund asked finally, which got a quizzical response. ‘I have been told of you, Boutoumites, and I know how high you stand in his counsel. You are spoken of to me as his right hand by those who write to me of such matters.’
The Byzantine replied unsmilingly, far from pleased that the Apulian general was so knowledgeable about the intricacies of the imperial court, even more so that he made no secret of it.
‘It has been my duty to greet every noble Crusader on their approach to the city, so no, to feel flattered would not be appropriate.’
Bohemund produced a wry smile. ‘Truly, Alexius asks much of those he holds dear, to be no more than a doorkeeper.’
‘He has the right to ask what he wishes of any one-’
The interruption was swift. ‘A notion to be put to the test, would you not say?’
‘I was about to add, of his subjects.’
‘Which I am not.’
‘When can we expect your army?’
‘They will come on from Heboomon when I call them. I thought it best to discuss the future with Alexius beforehand.’
‘You make it sound as if the future is in doubt.’
‘You tell me, counsellor and right-hand man, is it so?’
‘If I knew the answer to such a question it would not be my place to provide it.’
‘So is it time to find out and lead me to where I will be accommodated?’
‘If you look behind me, Count Bohemund, you will see a line of carts approaching. They bear tents sufficient to house you and your escort.’ The calm expression, which Bohemund had worn since the first greeting, changed to one of obvious irritation, which delighted Boutoumites, much as he tried to disguise it. ‘It has been imperial policy not to allow those coming to our aid to reside within the city walls, for fear that, through misunderstandings, they might incite trouble with our citizens.’
The look around the landscape was slow and deliberate for it begged the question that, if there no armies encamped there, where were they?
‘Duke Godfrey de Bouillon and the Count of Vermandois have led their forces across to the north shore of the Gulf of Nicomedia, but you will know this, surely, given you seem to know so much about what we say and do.’
‘And your army, Boutoumites, where are they?’
‘Inside the walls, where their duty requires them.’ He might have just as well said to keep you and your kind out, but diplomacy left that unspoken. ‘His Highness the Emperor desires to speak with you, but he has many other matters to occupy him. Once they have been attended to I will come for you and take you to him. In the meantime you will find that those approaching carts have upon them fodder for your mounts, food and wine for you, as well as cooks and servants to both prepare and serve it. His Highness wishes you and your knights to feel welcome.’
‘And how long must I wait upon “His Highness”?’
The Byzantine General could not fail to note the way Bohemund emphasised that honorific, which was close to an insult, and the change in his facial expression left Bohemund in no doubt he wished to say ‘as long as he damn well pleases’. When his did speak his voice was tight.
‘It will be no more than my master deems to be necessary. Until then you and your men may enter the city in numbers of no more than six at a time and without weapons, to pray if you so desire as well as to marvel at the sights the imperial capital can offer. I will send a messenger out in the morning to enquire if there is anything you need.’
‘Like the courtesy of being treated as an equal?’
Boutoumites enjoyed responding to that. ‘No one is equal to a Roman Emperor!’
It was three days before the summons came, time in which Bohemund examined the outer walls of the city in some detail, an act which did not go unobserved by those defending them, and such was his reputation it made them nervous, so much so that he acquired a distant escort of mounted lances. He also visited within the city and marvelled at the Hippodrome, while trying to imagine it in use, packed with a hundred thousand screaming and gambling Greeks, with teams of four-horse chariots racing round seeking to either overtake or tip into the dust their opponents.
Constantinople was full of magnificent churches, abbeys and monasteries, seemingly one on every corner, but none compared to the Great Church of Santa Sophia, where he went to pray beneath the great vaulted dome, a wonder of construction that seemed to defy physical reason. If he had been escorted when outside the walls he was near to hounded within, followed by a crowd of the curious, some even so taken with his person as to wish to touch him, as if doing so would ward off the danger he was known to represent or establish if he was, as they had been told, the offspring of the Devil.
This carried on as he inspected the three sets of inner walls, less formidable but still objects it would be hard to overcome, while a ride around the sea wall convinced him that the city could not be taken without the besieger had a large fleet to impede supply and the means to get beyond that great Bosphorus chain. Those of higher ranks than this horde of peasants who watched him on his progress — and he suspected one was Boutoumites — thought the city impregnable, but there was no such thing as far as the Count of Taranto was concerned.
Back outside the gates he looked at the outer walls again, knowing Constantinople would be a hard object to overcome, possibly the hardest he had ever seen, yet he could not help but wonder what his father would have made of such defences. He had been told Bari and Palermo could not be taken, yet he had captured both and if the Guiscard had never seen the fortifications of Constantinople he had dreamt of them often. These thoughts got him back to his camp, where he found Tancred waiting for him, keen to report that his army was well situated and anxious to know what was happening.
‘Nothing yet.’
‘What is Alexius playing at?’
‘Being an emperor, nephew, making sure that I know who has power and who does not.’
‘How long will that take?’
‘Not much longer, for if I am not summoned he knows that I may well ride away, to tell all of our confreres of the insult he had heaped upon me. But let us set that aside and eat together, for I have walked many a league this day and my stomach rumbles.’
‘Is the city as magnificent as they say?’
‘More, Tancred, it is staggering to think how many people live within its walls and the sights are wonders. Rest here tonight and perhaps, if Alexius still plays the despot, we may go tomorrow and you shall see for yourself.’
‘Riders approaching, My Lord.’
Leaving the table and Tancred, Bohemund went to the entrance to his sumptuous and spacious tent and observed the sun was setting behind the single fellow approaching, sending long shadows across the flat plain on which the city stood, while picking out the spires and domes that sat atop its hills. It also burnished the armour of an unescorted Manuel Boutoumites, which could only have one meaning. Having been relaxing over wine and conversation with his nephew, Bohemund had one of his men keep the Greek occupied until he was clad in his Crusader surplice, while his horse was saddled and brought to the entrance, Tancred being told to keep out of sight, an instruction which mystified him.
When the Count of Taranto emerged it was to find the Curopalates surprised at his presumption. Bohemund could have said that him coming on his own, and not sending the usual messenger, only left him to draw one conclusion: he was being summoned. But that would have provided no amusement.
‘I have been expecting you, Boutoumites. As you see I was dressed and waiting. Now let us not do that to your Emperor. It is desired, is it not, that we meet at the Blachernae Palace?’