His ambitions in Southern Italy were far from secret, nor was the frustration he felt at the need to acknowledge his half-brother as both Duke of Apulia and his suzerain, or that this was a compromise forced upon him by his Uncle Roger, who, instead of supporting his right to the lands he had conquered, would have taken the field against him had he refused to settle for what he occupied. Set against that, also to be proved when all were present, he was probably the most accomplished leader in battle, a fact to which Alexius could personally attest.
In the latter stages of his father’s invasion of Romania, with the Guiscard obliged to take the bulk of his lances back to crush rebellion in Apulia, Bohemund had been massively outnumbered at every turn, and if he had lost a battle or two, many more times he had inflicted defeat upon the armies Alexius had led by the employment of superior tactics, the sheer physical force of his Norman lances or by some act of individual courage that had rallied his men to mount what would appear to be a futile assault.
Added to that prowess was the trouble he could cause, if disgruntled, by stirring up resentments with his fellow Crusaders. In the formulation of imperial policy Alexius had quite fixed aims: to throw back from his borders the Turks who, if left in peace, would threaten the city of Constantinople itself, something he lacked the means to achieve. Three times he had sought to retake Nicaea, each attempt ending in failure; perhaps with these Western knights that could be brought about and the infidels defeated to create a true buffer between them and the capital. If they moved on south, every step taken towards Jerusalem was one that would provide enhanced security for Byzantium.
After passing through endless corridors, Alexius led Bohemund into a private and much smaller chamber, where two servants awaited him, as did food and wine, the latter poured on command. Both he gestured should leave and when they obeyed, though they left the door ajar, he indicated that his guest should occupy a capacious divan, before personally handing him a jewel-encrusted goblet, he sitting down opposite in a curule chair. The goblet Bohemund took, but he did not drink from it until Alexius had done so first, which did not go unnoticed.
‘You think I might poison you?’
‘More I think that someone might seek to poison you, Alexius, and that I would suffer by inadvertence.’
‘Did you not see I am well protected?’
‘As well protected as many of those who preceded you, such as Nikephoros.’
Alexius smiled; he suspected Bohemund was trying to needle him by mentioning the previous emperor. ‘He was a weak man, I am not.’
‘Was it not a mistake to spare his eyes, in fact his life?’
‘I did not invite you here to discuss the events of the past, Count Bohemund. I wear the diadem now and it is with me that men must deal. Why have you come here?’
The sudden change was designed to throw Bohemund off guard; it failed because he had been waiting for it. ‘I answered the call of Pope Urban.’
‘So you are bound for Jerusalem?’
‘I have had to point out to many of those who follow me that such a goal is a very long way off and much stands between what the Pope might desire and what can actually be achieved.’
‘Are you saying you do not think the Crusade will succeed?’
‘You know what I am saying.’
‘It concerns me that you may have other things in mind.’
‘Like an attack on the city?’ Alexius nodded as Bohemund took a deep drink. ‘That is ambition long since put aside. I do not have the strength to attempt such a thing.’
‘Yet you do not deny that such a possibility excites you?’
‘No, any more than that you would like to regain from we Normans the provinces of Langobardia and Calabria. Like me, Alexius, you lack the ability to make that dream become a reality.’
‘And what of your fellow Crusaders?’
‘Since I do not know them I do not know their minds.’
‘So you did not seek to garner support from Godfrey de Bouillon?’ Answered with a look of bewilderment Alexius continued. ‘You did write to him, did you not?’
‘Only to see if his views on what we might face coincided with my own.’
‘And the others yet to arrive, have you communicated with them?’
‘Why should I when I suspect that their gaze is fixed on the Holy Land, as is mine?’
Bohemund interpreted the following silence as a lack of belief, which was hardly surprising. But if Alexius knew that he could not send the Apulians packing for the effect it would have on other Western knights, so did the man who commanded them.
‘It is vital that all of you cooperate with Byzantium.’
‘We will not get far, Alexius, if we do not, nor will we get far if we do not cooperate with each other.’
Alexius was quick to discern the meaning of that. ‘You see trouble ahead?’
‘I hope for the opposite but I would be a fool, and so would you, not to count it as a possibility. A divided command is a dangerous one.’
‘Why did you stop your progress at Heboomon, why is your army camped there?’
The change of tack was a deliberate attempt to fend Bohemund off from where he was obviously headed — the answer to a divided command was a unified one and who better to head that, with imperial support, than a Norman whose worth he knew? Aware that Alexius was not going to allow himself to be dragged into a discussion of that, Bohemund answered the question with a pre-prepared and wholly specious answer.
‘To ease your concerns, given I had no idea that Vermandois and Bouillon had departed and crossed to Bithynia. I thought that the addition of my Apulians to their forces, sitting outside your walls, might cause you anxiety.’
Alexius allowed himself a ghost of a smile. ‘And if I requested that you do likewise?’
‘If that is your wish I am happy to meet it, as long as my men and my mounts are fed and watered.’
‘You have heard of the oath taken by Vermandois and Bouillon?’
‘I have.’
‘Then I am bound to enquire if you will make the same pledge.’
Bohemund feigned surprise, but he did it well. ‘Is not that the reason you have called me to your palace?’
Alexius was just as good at masking his true feelings, yet to a sharp eye a sudden need to blink was as good as a shout, even if, in revealing he had reacted when he should not have, the Emperor kept his eyes closed; that response had taken him off guard. He took his time to open them once more and fix his visitor with a firm look.
‘You have come prepared to swear?’
‘I will do so now, if you wish, Alexius, and to you alone.’
The reply was slow and soft. ‘No, Count Bohemund, let it be done with due ceremony and in the presence of witnesses. I would have you swear too on the holy relics kissed by the others so that you know you are risking eternal damnation if you betray the pledge you make.’
‘Anyone would suspect you did not trust me.’
Alexius was too shrewd to respond to that direct challenge, even if it came with an amused smile. He stood and indicated the door. ‘I will send my Curopalates to you on the morrow.’
Bohemund was escorted back to his encampment by a squadron of cavalry to find Tancred pacing back and forth, worried that his uncle had walked into some form of trap. If many of the tales of Byzantine intrigue were lurid they were not without some basis in fact; over the centuries people had been regularly killed in cold blood and the methods were the stuff of nightmares. Pick a pear from a tree and it might have been filled with a fatal toxin, accept an imperial gift of, say, a gold casket and there might be a famished and venomous snake waiting for you to lift the lid. It was rumoured that they had even perfected such a thing as a poisoned cloak, for that was a common imperial gift and a mark of respect.