Raymond, Godfrey, Robert of Normandy and Hugh of Vermandois could not have acted in more unison and it was a miracle of coordination. Every one of their banners were dipped forward, following the command from Raymond, telling their knights to take back what ground they had surrendered, the aim not just to kill, but to pin their foes and make them stay and fight. Pressed into a confined space by the eagerness of Ridwan, what Bohemund and his knights careered into, the mounted archers, was such a solid mass there was no chance for anyone, man or beast, to escape and that they tried sent a ripple of panic through their entire host.
It was that, rather than slaughter, which determined the next phase, as men who felt themselves betrayed began to seek a way to save their skins and in doing so those archers ran down their own foot soldiers, trampling them under their horses’ hooves and even swiping with their swords to clear a path. At the front killing zone, fighters who had thought they were winning were now dying in droves, for they had no notion of security to their rear, which took the passion that had so far sustained them out of their efforts.
A stronger general would have sought to rally his troops; Ridwan of Aleppo was far from that — he owed his position to his bloodline and was more concerned with his own life than that of the host he led. As soon as it appeared they might be checked, not defeated, the son of the Sultan called for his banner and fled the field, the effect on those who saw this disastrous. The non-engaged foot soldiers went after their mounted archers, leaving those at the front and the many others who stood their ground exposed to Bohemund’s knights who were engaged in butchery at the rear. They began to die in even greater numbers or to fall to their knees and plead for mercy as they sensed they had been abandoned.
Now the shortage of mounts truly told; the Crusaders lacked the means to pursue their running foes — the horses were past their peak and too valuable to risk, while mailed men would struggle to walk at pace never mind run. They had won the day in this Syrian valley but did not yet know if they had prevailed in the contest, so they dare not let up, dare not let Ridwan regroup. It was a weary and dusty march towards the fortress of Harim, prayers being mouthed through cracked dry lips that they would not have to fight take it.
The joy when they saw the place in flames was unalloyed, that even deeper when they espied what Turks remained were hurrying east to safety. Raymond called a halt and Godfrey de Bouillon immediately beckoned forward Bishop Ademar, who had insisted he must share their fate if not their fight, and begged him to say Mass there and then for their deliverance. If any Turks of Ridwan’s now crushed army did look back, it would have been to see the men who had driven them from the field of battle, both mounted and on foot, now on their knees in deep prayer.
In flight, the Turks had left abundant food, horses and valuables — silks, gold and silver, which were as rich a prize as victory — and also the Crusaders had prisoners in abundance, with Turkish banners to display to the defenders of Antioch, men who had known Ridwan was close and had fully expected to be relieved. Instead, they saw their religious brothers beheaded and knew that soon those skulls would be catapulted inside their walls.
The feeling that matters had tipped in their favour began to permeate the Crusaders’ lines, yet any notion of a quick end to the siege was certainly not in sight — the Turks were still sending out sniping raids and their walls were intact, so it was a sentiment not a fact, the defeat of Ridwan of Aleppo being part of that. In addition, with improving weather the fields were producing food, and ships were bringing that in from Cyprus and more lances from Europe, which despite pleas to the papacy was a trickle not a flood. The problem, anyway, was not numbers but the sheer strength of the walls added to the tenacity of the resistance, and there was another matter that Bohemund was keen to raise in the Council of Princes: the status of Antioch after the siege was over, which was delicate.
‘It will be handed back to the Emperor,’ Raymond declared, ‘as we promised we would do.’
‘You would gift to a man who has done nothing to aid us since we gave him Nicaea?’
‘We are bound by our oaths, Count Bohemund,’ Ademar reminded him, which got support from Godfrey de Bouillon who referred to the ceremony at which he had sworn.
‘I too kissed the relics as Alexius demanded of me, but I made him do so too, Godfrey, on the grounds that such loyalty extended in both directions.’
‘Is an emperor bound by such things?’ asked Vermandois; he meant a king, his brother.
‘Alexius Comnenus is a man like you and I.’
That got a flare of the French nostrils and a nod from Walo, as ever by his side — Count Hugh thought himself superior to most men, an opinion not even shared by his own people.
‘And I take the view that he has broken his oath to me.’
The Duke of Normandy laughed, his eyes twinkling with humour. ‘Very convenient, Count Bohemund; that will allow a de Hauteville to take more Byzantine fiefs, which is a family trait, is it not?’
‘Anglo-Saxon property is just as succulent, My Lord.’
That barb hit home and for once Bohemund thought that the man he had seen for months past as an ally might not be on his side in the discussion he was determined to force into the open. He also knew he had been too acerbic in his response to the mention of his family, and Robert replied in kind.
‘While a legitimate claim to a kingdom trumps banditry, you will find.’
‘None of those present can say that there is no other claim against that which we each own, My Lord.’
‘I am curious to what you are driving at?’ asked Ademar, seeing this conversation between two Normans as a distraction.
‘When Antioch falls, as it will even if we are here for years, I say to hand it back to Alexius would be folly. He has done nothing to aid us, quite the opposite. If Tacitus withdrew on his own initiative, he did not return to us on imperial orders. Alexius has no intention of aiding us to take Antioch and the impression I get is he expects us to fail here.’
‘I cannot agree that is so.’
‘Where are his men, Count Raymond? We cleared the Cilician Gates and the Belen Pass to ease his journey south, and the towns on the way were free of Turks and would welcome him. He had a passage denied to us and no shortage of supplies, given he has ships at his disposal — vessels, I would remind you, we have not seen in the harbour of St Simeon.’
‘All this may be true, Count Bohemund,’ Ademar insisted, his face creasing, for it was not now as smooth and round as it had been before; many months of worry and the needs of his office had produced lines that now showed. ‘But you have yet to answer the question I posed.’
‘How, if there is no aid from Byzantium, is Antioch to be held? How, when the Crusade marches on to Jerusalem, is it to be supplied? How, if the Turks are resurgent, is it going to be possible to ensure they do not get across our rear and cut us off?’
‘It is rare to answer one question with three.’
‘The answers are more important, Your Grace.’
Vermandois spoke up again. ‘When we succeed, Alexius will send a fleet and army south to take possession.’
‘Only if we agree he can and hold it for him until he does, which will not speed the journey to Palestine.’
‘You would defy him?’ Raymond asked.
‘I would remind him that as far as I am concerned he has broken his oath to me, and therefore he has forfeited any right to my aid in giving him Antioch.’
‘While,’ Robert Duke of Normandy opined, ‘any one of us here can claim that right if they share your view and are prepared to risk their soul by setting aside their oath.’
Vermandois was quick to butt in. ‘Not least the Count of Taranto.’