‘Majesty, news has come from Xerigordos. A party of knights has attacked the town and taken the fortress there. It is reported they intend to use it as a base to raid deeper into the Sultanate of Rum.’
If Peter the Hermit was astonished at the language such news produced and from a man said to be as pious as Alexius, it was a measure of the shock and anger the Emperor felt, even if this had been something he feared. Xerigordos was well beyond the range of any previous raid, and worse, it was a Turkish fortress, if not a very important one. Such an act was both premature and dangerous: the last thing Alexius wanted was to stir up trouble on his borders when he was too weak to easily contain it and the military aid he expected from Europe was yet to arrive. He did not count the knights who had come with the People’s Crusade to be that, a fact Alexius made plain to the Hermit once he had established the size of the force engaged, a mere five hundred men in all, the majority foot soldiers.
‘The Turks will not let that stand.’
Peter was taken aback and it was plain on his face. ‘Can you not support them, Eminence?’
‘No I cannot, so it falls to you, good man, or a messenger sent by you, to tell them to withdraw at once.’
CHAPTER TWO
It had all started so well for the men who took the Castle of Xerigordos, as it had for the whole People’s Crusade. The fertile northern plains of Bithynia seemed entirely clear of any defence and Kilij Arslan, the Turk who had taken to himself the title of the Sultan of Rum, remained within the formidable walls of Nicaea and seemed passive regarding the arrival of these thousands of pilgrims as well as indifferent to their activities.
Having settled around Civetot it was only days before marauding parties set out from the coastal town to bring mayhem and destruction to the surrounding countryside, in much the same manner as they had done on the way to Constantinople. Much of that pillaging, in terms of distance, was constrained by the lack of suitable transport for the mostly foot-bound and untrained host, but that did not apply to parties led by well-armed and mounted knights, most notably those raiding under the banner of Reinald the Alemanni.
Ranging further afield they had enjoyed complete freedom to despoil any settlements they found while paying scant attention to the religious or vassalage ties of their victims; it mattered not whether they were Christian Greeks or Turks and infidels. They represented booty for men who had come to the East seeking to gain profit from the Crusade as well as forgiveness. Finally the old and badly repaired fortress of Xerigordos, as well as the town that had grown around it, fell to Reinald and so easily that he, as well as the force he led, saw it as divine approval. The desire to partake of the fruits of that capture led to their downfall.
Three days of feasting, some pleasant slaughter of the menfolk and violation of the women, ended when a force of Kilij Arslan’s Turks appeared that outnumbered them three to one, the men Reinald led forced to take refuge in the run-down castle. There was no time to gather supplies of any kind, not that the town could provide much after it had been pillaged, but the real difficulty came when the Crusaders found that there was no water supply within the walls, a crippling handicap in a part of the world where, even in early October, the temperatures could be scorching.
Such a debilitating predicament was not aided by the need to constantly man the walls and, over several days, fight off well-coordinated attacks, which meant hails of deadly arrows from the numerous archers to which the defenders, with only lances and swords, had no way of replying. Reinald’s casualties, for that reason alone, had been bad from the first day of siege and had worsened since, till the number of shallow graves multiplied. Men became too weary to bother to bury their dead, and bodies, thrown over the parapet, were now rotting at the outer base of the castle walls.
Then there was the choking smoke, behind which Turks advanced to the very walls to set ladders against the parapet and engage in close combat — to a man already suffering from thirst, that on the lungs had a doubly nauseating effect, yet despite such tactics they repulsed assault after assault by deeds that would have been valorous in a better cause. But the need for liquids was the greatest drawback; after eight days, when the blood of their now dead horses was no longer available to ease their thirst, when they were reduced to dropping their leather girdles into the sewers then sucking them for a modicum of relief, or using what little urine their bodies produced to try to assuage their rasping throats, it was time to talk.
‘Do you think they know how badly we are placed?’
Reinald croaked this to one of his knights, a Lombard called Argyrus who, having served with the Normans, knew the Frankish tongue, as he watched his enemies prepare another assault. Really the question was: can you think of anything by which we can negotiate that I might have missed?
‘It was their castle, Reinald, they must know. That was why the garrison was too small to hold out against us, why we found it so easy to capture in the first place.’
‘There is no sign that anyone is coming to our relief.’
‘Do they even know we are under siege?’
Reinald conjured up enough saliva to sound as he had done a week before, arrogant and angry. ‘They must know, Argyrus, but they do not care.’
‘What will you offer?’
‘Only our swords, it’s all we have. Prepare a truce flag.’
The man in command of the Turks, a general called Elchanes, came within hailing distance, but he was not so trusting of Christians that he would come close enough to be struck down by a lance — not that the defenders had many of those kind of weapons left; too many had been cast at the men seeking to overcome the walls — with what followed being long-winded and confusing.
Elchanes had a Greek interpreter who could communicate with the likes of the Lombard Argyrus; he, in turn, had to translate for Reinald, though in truth there was little to discuss. To stay inside the walls was to die; to leave their protection was to rely on the word of the Turkish commander who seemed willing to accept them into military service as long as they came as a body.
Yet if Reinald was the leader of his small force it was far from homogenous — his men came from many different lands and nor was he so respected that he could issue orders and demand they be obeyed. They had a say in their fate and that led to a great deal of argument, with many reluctant to take up arms against their co-religionists, the very people with whom they had traversed many hundreds of leagues in order to seek salvation, set against those who were prepared to set that aside for a chance to live, on the very good grounds that their all-seeing God would observe they had no choice and thus forgive them their sin. A few even claimed that having come on Crusade, they enjoyed prior absolution.
‘And let me see a way to escape, brothers, and, with God’s aid, I will take it.’
That cry from a lone voice swayed the meeting and gave Reinald the right to offer them into the service of Kilij Arslan, a message Reinald sent from the walls just before he ordered the gates to be opened and for all of his men to stay gathered in the castle courtyard where they had debated their fate. The Turkish archers, who fought on both foot and mounted, trotted in on their small, fleet ponies heading right and left, an arrow nestled in each bow and eyes on the gathering that meant the slightest untoward move would result in a swift release.
Once they had fully encircled the Crusaders their general entered, surrounded by men with drawn swords, and Reinald, dragging Argyrus with him, walked forwards to execute a low bow. A hand signal from the Turk brought forward a man bearing a skin of water from which, much to the chagrin of their watching followers, the two men greedily drank. There was no sympathy in the act; Elchanes wanted them to be able to speak clearly.