It was not merely religious; they sought to drive home their numerical advantage and would do so again when Raymond and his Provencal forces arrived to further drive home the point. If the hope was to instil fear in the Turkish defenders all they got for their trouble was jeers to assail their ears and many a bared arse from Turks standing on the battlements to assault their eyes.
When the leaders gathered once more to discuss their options, it was very obvious that the city was not going to fall to demonstrations; it would have to be overcome by force and Bohemund, the most experienced at siege warfare, made the point that such a thing would depend on time and numbers. These were not yet sufficient to entirely cut off Nicaea from succour by land and would not be so until Raymond arrived, so another attempt must be made to persuade the Turks their situation was hopeless, in order to avoid what would transpire, for it would come down to attrition.
‘In which, my Lords, we might lose as much as those defending.’
‘It cannot be done without great loss,’ Normandy agreed.
‘When we need our strength for what is to come,’ added Godfrey de Bouillon, his mind ever fixed on the Holy Places.
That induced much consideration if not quite gloom as each leader contemplated what would be required. In an attritional siege the aim, starvation apart, was to inflict casualties on the defenders until they could no longer man the whole perimeters. The points of access were several high gates on the far side of that double ditch, which surrounded the city on three sides. Reached by narrow causeways that canalised any attack, the doors were so studded with iron bolts they would be near impossible to break down, the wood well seasoned and no doubt secured by great baulks of timber on the inside, while there would also be tubs of water on the parapet above to play upon the gates should the Crusaders manage to set the wood alight, as well as boiling oil to skin alive the attackers.
The towers could not be described as weak spots unless the besiegers could secure one and hold it, not easy when it required a force of knights to climb ladders or ropes under assault from rocks and burning oil, to then engage the defence at the top so successfully that one would fall into their hands. Siege towers seemed to offer the only way to get at the defenders at anything like equal strength, but were only possible if the ditch before the walls could be so filled in as to allow the passage across, something which the defence would not only challenge — they would sally out at night to clear any work done in daylight. Added to that, all the time they would look east to the horizon for sight of Kilij Arslan and his army returning to raise the siege.
‘So,’ Bohemund insisted, when all of these obstacles had been aired, ‘do we agree it makes sense to try to talk?’
These men were not to be pushed into making a decision; each took his time before assenting, and when they had they also agreed that such a mission would be best undertaken by the man who had negotiated with them previously, with the Apulian leader tasked to instruct him in what was required.
‘Offer them terms, Curopalates. They may march out with their weapons and move east to join their Sultan.’
‘The city is home to Kilij Arslan’s treasury and his family,’ Boutoumites replied. ‘They will not leave without those.’
‘It is possession of the city your master wants and from what I have seen he has little need of gold.’ When the Byzantine nodded, Bohemund added, in a firm voice, ‘I have not been open with the others about the purpose of your previous efforts but they might suspect you will not act truthfully.’
‘Then why task me with this?’
‘You know them, you have met them, you speak enough of their language to sense their mood, we do not. Tell them that if we are many now we will be more soon and that the city will be cut off and assaulted. If it is, and it will be, all will die.’
Sensing doubt in the man’s demeanour, Bohemund pressed home the point. ‘Nicaea will fall, Boutoumites, for we will not go from here until it has and if you disbelieve that, think on this: we cannot pass on to the Holy Land without this city falls and so it will, if we have to take it apart stone by stone.’
‘It may take time, days perhaps, the Turks will not be rushed.’
‘Time spent is better than blood spilt, but I and my peers will want to know that progress is being made. Arrange to come to the walls and pass on a message of any developments, and if there is none, leave.’
CHAPTER NINE
Under a truce flag for the second time, Manuel Boutoumites approached the main gate and was invited to enter, which prompted from Tancred the obvious question.
‘Do you trust him?’
‘I have no need. He has a clear set of instructions and this time the force outside the walls is large and about to grow.’ A messenger arrived to tell that Raymond of Toulouse had broken camp and was now marching south. ‘Once the Turks are convinced we will not, and cannot, let them hold Nicaea, and have enough strength to entirely surround the land walls as well as the means to stay here indefinitely, I think they will see the only hope of life is to agree to surrender the city.’
If it sounded simple it did not work out that way; negotiation proceeded at the pace of a sick snail, with petty demands being put forward to Boutoumites by the Turkish commander Acip Bey — these passed on to the princes to be agreed. Kilij Arslan’s family, left behind, must be afforded special treatment, they and his treasury should depart ahead of the garrison, who would leave when they knew the Sultan had received his wives, sons and his gold, silver and precious jewellery. The Muslim non-combatants must be given free and unfettered passage too and an escort of Christian knights to protect them.
Ademar baulked at the demand that no mosque should be converted to Christian worship, agreeing only to respect those places that had not previously been cathedrals, churches, abbeys or monasteries. Nicaea had an abundance of such religious establishments — it was, after all, at the very core of the Christian religion, nearly as important as Jerusalem, being the city where, seven hundred years previously, the Emperor Constantine had forced the warring bishops of the faith, not one of whom agreed with the other, to agree a statement of belief to which all could adhere. The Nicene Creed had held since, albeit there was still the ongoing dispute between Greek Orthodoxy and Rome.
Each evening, as the sun sank in the west, Manuel Boutoumites would come to the northern parapet and report on his progress, if it could be called that, given he always postulated some fresh demand from Acip Bey. Yet he was far from discouraged; certain matters were progressing to a conclusion, and he hinted, since he could not say so openly, that the person with whom he spoke each day took more pleasure in the bargaining than they were ever likely to take in the finale.
‘I grow tired of this,’ Vermandois said, on the fourth day. ‘Perhaps a few ladders on the walls and the need to fight might bring them to their senses.’
It was his brother’s constable who checked him. ‘We have an envoy inside, Count Hugh, who will suffer if we act.’
‘What is the life of one man, Walo?’
‘Perhaps,’ asked Stephen of Blois softly, ‘you would care to replace him.’
‘How I wish my brother had come. Matters would soon be resolved if he was here.’
The implication of that remark was obvious and galling to those assembled, but no one was about to mention how badly the King of France stood with the papacy, caused by the difficulties of a bigamous marriage. Yet if Philip, a reigning monarch, had been present, it might have been hard to deny him outright leadership.
Technically, Robert of Normandy was a vassal of the French king regardless of how many times the duchy had fought whoever held the throne in Paris; by the same convention Bohemund, being a de Hauteville, still owed allegiance to whoever held the title of Normandy, as had his father and uncles before him. It would have been then, and was now, more of a myth than a reality, but certainly it was one to which lip service was paid, if for no other reason than to anchor the family in the Norman firmament.