We took our farewells of Manuel and listened with skepticism to his protestations of friendship. None of us betrayed our doubts of him—not even Louis, who did not really believe in them, which was the only reason why he was able to deceive Manuel. The rest of us were more subtle and some of us could put up as good a front of deception as Manuel himself.
We crossed to Asia Minor and when we were encamped there Manuel’s treachery was proved without a doubt when we came upon Conrad with the remains of his shattered army.
The sight of him saddened us. He was no longer the confident warrior wielding the sword of righteousness; he himself had been quite badly wounded; he was a defeated man.
He sat in the royal tent with a very few of us—myself and some of Louis’s most trusted advisers. I was sorry to see among them Thierry Galeran, a man I detested and who, I was sure, reciprocated my feelings. He was a eunuch chosen, because of his immense strength, to be Louis’s bodyguard. He was more than that; he was also a diplomat and considered to be brilliant. He always slept in Louis’s tent that he might be ever alert for the King’s safety. He seemed to have become one of Louis’s chief advisers. I suppose a woman such as I was would feel a natural anathema to such a man. But he was ever-present and I knew that Louis paid great attention to what he said. He would stand there, often silent, listening, and I was sure he missed nothing. He was alert as Conrad told the story of his betrayal.
“Our guards were led up through a ravine, and as we came into the open stretch of land they were waiting for us. Our men could only emerge in threes and fours, so we were an easy target. The Turks are fierce fighters. Even in fair battle an army needs all its skills to equal them; but when one is led into such a trap ... My gallant army ... we came out with such high hopes ...”
“Then there is no doubt,” said Louis, “that Manuel is a traitor.”
He had at last accepted what the rest of us had known for some time!
Conrad decided that his army could not continue in its present state. He would perhaps go by sea to Palestine. He was unsure and we decided that we would go on without delay.
Louis and his advisers had a plan of action. They were now on dangerous land where they could encounter the enemy at any moment. They must be prepared and act with the utmost caution. At least they had learned something from Conrad’s experiences.
There were the usual prayers and exhortations to the Almighty.
“We have God on our side,” said Louis. “We cannot fail.”
“Conrad was set on a course of righteousness just as we are,” I reminded him.
“God works in a mysterious way. He tries us ... He tests us.”
“I hope He will remember that we are fighting in His cause and not forget as He did with the Germans,” I said.
Louis was shocked at what he called my near-blasphemy.
“But,” I went on, “we shall never win through if we do not face the facts. We are fighting a dangerous enemy and we have to rely on ourselves rather than divine help. No doubt the Mussulmans are praying to their god. So perhaps this is a war of the gods.”
“You talk in such an unseemly manner and you should not,” said Louis.
I laughed and turned away.
However, when they did meet the Turks our army was ready and with righteousness on their side put up a magnificent fight. This was at Phrygia close to the Meander River. I watched the battle from a point of vantage on a hilltop. Our men were dedicated, but so were the Turks. I had never seen such fierce fighting. It was quite terrifying—particularly when one could not be sure which way the battle was going.
My relief was intense when I began to see that our men were gaining the advantage. The carnage was terrible but the Turks suffered more than our army; and at last the battle was won. It was a great victory. We had lost few men comparatively. This was just what our army needed, for many of the men had become dispirited by the sight of Conrad’s bedraggled army and I wondered how much more would be needed to set them thinking longingly of home and the quickest way to get back to it.
Now they were victorious and glowing with the triumph of conquerors, rejoicing in the spoils of battle, for they had gained not only a victory over the Infidel but some of his treasure.
There was feasting and revelry in the camp that night.
The Bishop of Langres commented that such an army could have taken Constantinople.
“Nay,” countered Louis. “We came here to expiate our sins, not to stand in judgment or punish the Greeks. When we took up the cross, God did not put into our hands the sword of His justice. Sinners such as Manuel Comnenus will face God on Judgment Day. We are here to fight the Infidel, and our aim is to set up Christianity throughout the world.”
Much as Louis hated war, he was triumphant on that night. “God is telling us that He is pleased with what we are doing in His cause,” he said.
There were songs of rejoicing in the camp—many of them glorifying the battle and the bravery of the men.
“This is what they need,” I told Louis. “You see how wise I was to bring the minstrels with us.”
He was not sure. He thought the time should have been spent praying and giving thanks to God.
I laughed at him. I knew I was right.
If only our triumph could have continued; but the fortunes of war change suddenly.
We were on the march again. We knew that very soon there would be another encounter with the enemy. They would have gathered together their scattered forces, and those proud people would wish to avenge their recent defeat.
There was a conference among the advisers.
Thierry Galeran pointed out that the saddlehorses which were necessary to carry our finery were an encumbrance. This was a reproach to me. I did not think it necessary to explain my reasons to such a man. He said that, as we were such an unwieldy cavalcade, it would be a good idea to split up and that I with my ladies should go on ahead.
“We will need soldiers to protect them,” said Louis.
“We can send a small force with them.”
“Our best troops will have to go to defend the ladies,” insisted Louis.
Galeran replied that we had exposed ourselves to danger by coming and if the best troops must accompany us, they should take us to a plateau which overlooked the land through which the army would have to pass. They would therefore be in a position to view the advancing army and if the fight was going against us they could hasten to the rescue of those fighting below.
This was agreed and at Pisida we split up and I, with my ladies and a troop of the best guards in the army, went on in advance.
The countryside was so beautiful as we came into the valley of Laodicea. The sun was warm and we were all hot and tired. I had rarely seen such an enchanting spot. Waterfalls gushed from the hillside, and exotic flowers bloomed among the grass. There was a certain amount of shade from the bushes.
“We will tarry here for a while,” I said.
The commander of the guards came to me and respectfully pointed out that the King’s orders had been that we encamp on the plateau where we could have a good view of the surrounding country.
I could see the plateau in the distance. It looked stark and uninviting.
I said: “I insist that we rest here for a while. Let us have a song to while away the time.”
So we sang and the time passed so pleasantly and sudden that—it seemed without warning—darkness came upon us. I could see no reason why we should not encamp there; it would give us a restful night and we could go to the plateau at the first light of dawn. The commander was uneasy but he could scarcely disobey my orders.
After a good deal of head-shaking and consideration of the fact that it would not be easy to move in the darkness, it was agreed that we should stay.