It was decided to use the oak to construct another fortress opposite the Bridge Gate, the site chosen that of a ruined mosque and a still used cemetery. If it was heartless of the Crusaders to disinter the bodies of the Muslim dead and throw them into an open pit, the fact that that caused great lamentation from the walls of Antioch was to the good — anything that lowered Turkish morale was to be welcomed. Soon the fortress stood four-square to block the exit. It was not intended to be so secure it did not need support, but it did mean that those who manned it could hold off the enemy in some safety until help arrived.
What was left went towards strengthening a derelict building opposite the St George’s Gate, into which Tancred moved as an independent command. If he could not entirely blockade the entrance he could reduce the flow of goods going through it to a trickle, which left Yaghi Siyan only the Iron Gate for resupply, and mobile patrols made that risky. When the weather began to turn the Council of Princes found themselves in command of a much diminished force both in terms of man and horsepower.
If it was that, some comfort had to be taken from the hardiness of those who remained; these were the tough ones, the fellows whose faith or sheer tenacity had seen them through. If it was a lean force now, no more than thirty thousand strong and seriously short of horses, it was a resilient one and it had to be, for news came from their scouts of yet another Muslim army coming to the relief of Antioch under Ridwan, the son of the Sultan of Baghdad, which brought up a stark choice: to meet and defeat them or lift the siege of Antioch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
If the number of reported Turks coming their way under Ridwan of Aleppo had to be an exaggeration, there was no doubt the Crusaders faced a massive force equal to their own and they could only detach so many from the siege to face it. Added to that their main weapon, the mounted knight with lance, was now so constrained by a lack of fit horses that doubts existed as to how effective it could be. When counted, it was realised that only some six hundred equines could bear a human load enough to do battle and they could not all be taken away from the defence of their siege lines.
At least they knew exactly where the Turks had camped, around the fortress of Harim, and they now had a greater grasp of the terrain than their enemy, which Bohemund pointed out allowed them to choose where any battle would be fought. This could provide a crucial advantage, for he still maintained, even after what had occurred so recently on the foraging expedition, that the Turks were not stalwart and the key to defeating them was the kind of surprise that threw their undisciplined levies into disarray.
‘They are a mob, even the cavalry,’ he insisted. ‘Look how they acted at Nicaea. Let us commit them to battle and then shock them.’
‘Mounts,’ Vermandois said, and for once it was treated as a valid interjection.
‘Most of our knights will have to fight on foot, Count Hugh,’ Godfrey de Bouillon stated. ‘That we have already established.’
‘We must use our horses to good effect, and no one is more adept at that than we Normans.’
Even saintly Godfrey was put out by that comment from the Duke of Normandy, it being so crass, which was nothing as to the reaction of Raymond, who positively bristled; he had yet to forgive Bohemund and Robert of Flanders for the loss of his Provencal milities.
‘It would be fitting if certain people were to accept that we are equals in combat.’
‘Except in one regard, Count Raymond,’ Bohemund interrupted, albeit softly. ‘We Apulians have more fit horses than anyone else, the Duke of Normandy included.’
Two spectres were raised by that: the Count of Taranto had sent many of his horses away at the approach of winter where others had declined to do so and, if they had not all fared as well as he hoped, the number that came back battle-ready, some two hundred mounts, was significant. The second point did not have to be stated: there was no chance whatever that the Normans of South Italy would hand these horses over to anyone else. If there were to be a use of mounts in the coming encounter it would be led by Bohemund.
‘My Lords,’ he continued, ‘even on foot, we knights mailed are a match for the Turks, as you, Count Raymond proved at Nicaea, which I again take leave to mention.’
‘And there,’ Godfrey added, ‘we chose where to fight.’
‘That is our best hope,’ Raymond agreed, his high mood assuaged slightly by Bohemund’s reference to his previous success. ‘So we now must spend time in the choosing.’
This time they were poring over maps that had been drawn by their own scribes; anything Roman after the desertion of Tacitus was seen as tainted. The obvious tactical need was a valley and one high sided enough to make it difficult for Ridwan to get over the slopes to outflank them, though given the numbers they could deploy it was hoped he would not even consider such a stratagem. The use of a false retreat was examined and discarded; the Turks employed that manoeuvre themselves and might not fall for it when used against them.
‘Fighting on foot, cohesion is all,’ declared Raymond. ‘If we try to back away we will lose that and will struggle to re-form our line if they decline to follow. No, if we fall back, it must be pace by pace and decided by a single banner.’
‘And once they are committed,’ concluded Ademar, ‘it is down to you, Count Bohemund.’
‘Might I suggest the Count of Toulouse to command the knights on foot?’
Florid Toulouse was obviously taken with that notion and he glared at everyone present, Bohemund apart, daring them to decline him the honour.
‘I am happy for you to lead,’ Godfrey said, that backed by Hugh of Vermandois, who had lost some of his ambition since the start of this siege. Only the Duke of Normandy looked reluctant as he agreed.
In the event it was classic in its execution; Ridwan was so sure of his numerical superiority he came on as if he had already triumphed, to meet a line of mailed knights on foot, with shields and weapons at the ready, men who stood and suffered the attack by mounted archers and did not flinch. Then came the mass of Turkish foot, shoulder to shoulder and in deep and multiple lines that stretched across the valley floor, their kettledrums beating a loud tattoo and their cries to the Prophet rending the air.
At first the Crusaders were immovable, until Ridwan sent in several supporting waves so that the battle area became a crowded mass. The Crusaders took their first backward step, only one and in unison, each man eyeing the banner of Raymond so as to be sure that what order had been given was just that — one step and no more. Encouraged, Ridwan sent in more men and again, after a fierce fight the Crusader line went backwards, not much, but heartening to the Turkish general. Sure that one final push would break the Crusaders’ spirit he committed all of his men and backed them up with his mounted archers. The whole milled about in the rear, ready for the pursuit, which was bound to follow.
Bohemund did not show restraint as he entered the fray; cresting the right-hand slope, he and his lances came over as a body and for once he let the slope dictate the pace of his attack, which was made at the full gallop over what was a short distance. To hold a line on such an incline was impossible, just as unlikely as that a force of a mere two hundred knights could put to flight an army numbered in the tens of thousands. Yet shock and astonishment are potent weapons and that was what fell upon the Turks now, and if the sight of these charging horsemen was not enough to dent their confidence, the sudden reversal of the actions of the mailed knights to their front was.