Beloved Pilgrim Page 25

  A man-at-arms responded to the German knight's lament that the town was a Christian one, "We left the church alone!"

  Gerhardt spat at the man, turned and came over to Elisabeth and her squire. "You expect this with a Paynim village, but a Christian one?"

  She eyed him. "Where were Black Beast and Alain during all this?"

  He spat on the ground again. "Watching." He strode away, leaving her to look for her other companions.

  Elisabeth found Ranulf sitting with his back to one of the olive trees, taking advantage of the little shade left after the tree was stripped of many of its limbs. She slid down to sit by him. The base of the tree was thick with olives trampled by the despoilers and defenders alike. He offered her a wineskin. When her hand reached for it then hesitated, he assured her, "It's not the fruit of pillage. I paid a village woman for it."

  Elisabeth took the skin, tipped its spout to her lips, and sighed with pleasure at the wetness and the taste. Handing it back to Ranulf she nodded her thanks.

  "I would really like to get drunk right now," she admitted.

  Ranulf toasted her with the wineskin. "As would I," he said. They sat for a while in silence. He finally spoke. "I am sorry I ever came on this pilgrimage."

  She sat with her head back and her eyes closed. "Why did you and the others come? You don't seem like the usual pilgrims."

  He snorted without amusement. "I take that as a compliment." He saw she had opened her eyes and was waiting for an answer. "I suppose you have heard we are seeking absolution for something, eh, Elias?"

  She nodded, but said no more.

  "It's true, though probably not what anyone thinks. We did not rape nuns. We did not desecrate a church. We did nothing of the sort. In fact, it was doing nothing that we desire forgiveness for." He took a long swig of the wine. "It was Mainz, a few years ago, when the first call went out to liberate the Holy Land from the Paynim. You know of course that the first wave of pilgrims, the ones heeding Peter the Hermit's call, went berserk virtually at once. They turned on Jews in their own cities, and they did the same in every Christian town they passed through on their way to Byzantium. In the Rhineland Count Emicho of Leinengen was joined by other gangs. Yes, gangs, for they looked like no pilgrims I had ever seen."

  He took another long draught. "The Emperor called for the Jews to be protected, and so did the bishops. That's where my men and I became involved. The burghrave who was the military officer, who worked for the burghers of Mainz and Bishop Ruthard, after hearing of the massacres in Speyer and how in Worms the mob broke into the bishop's palace and murdered the Jews he was protecting, called in all the soldiers they could, mostly mercenaries. After all, we will protect anyone if the price is right, eh?"

  Elisabeth waited while he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

  "They said that Peter the Hermit had a letter from the Jews in his own town telling other Jews to provide all the supplies the crusaders wanted or they might find themselves under attack. The Jews of Mainz gave Emicho a king's ransom in gold and the Bishop begged him to pass the town by. Emicho fulfilled his promise by turning a blind eye to what happened next. The gangs went into the city and many of the people there joined in the slaughter. They even invaded the Ruthard's palace, as they had in Worms, and killed every one of the Jews sheltered inside. They made a show of forcing the Jews to convert to Christianity, but nothing was going to prevent the slaughter. My mercenaries were hired by Bishop Ruthard to help the burghers of Mainz to keep order as best we could. It was astonishing to hear him and other Christian leaders protecting the Jews. I suppose it was because it was more than the usual riot. Usually it's gangs of young men who are drunk and trawl the streets of the Jewry to look for people to beat up. This time the victims were the whole tribe. And we both know Jews can be quite important if a nobleman or bishop needs money for some reason. Sometimes when it comes to paying back the loans, they may preach themselves blue in the face that Jews are in league with the Devil and all that."

  He glanced at her and seeing her continued attention, went on. "There was a young woman with four little children, a Christian who had converted when she married a Jew. Her husband had been dragged into an alley and beaten senseless. He died of his wounds. This woman, Rachel she was called, had been so kind to us, my men and me. When the Hermit's party was on its way to Mainz, I promised her I would protect her, keep her and her children from harm. Then when the pilgrims arrived and started to burn the Jewry and kill every Jew they could find, we had enough to do to get them back under control. The others, Ruggiero and Ragnar, told me I was daft to worry about Rachel, that it was more important we protect the churches and the burghers' homes and shops. I finally could not stand it anymore. I made my way through the rioting mob to Rachel's house." Ranulf stopped talking and stared out to some unknown memory. His voice broke. "She was there. She had killed her four children and then herself. Cut their throats, like sacrificial goats. Rather than letting them be torn apart and herself ravished, she chose to take them with her as she died. I went into her house to warn them the roof was close to catching from a fire next door, and there they lay scattered on the floor. The littlest one looked for all the world as if he had curled up on the floor and gone to sleep, save for the bloody puddle he lay in. The other children had the most horrible looks on their faces. Two were crumpled on the floor. I found myself wondering how she got her children to wait patiently while the others were killed. The fourth child was in her arms as if she had clutched him there so he could not escape. She herself lay with the tracks of tears in her eyes, her own throat cut, the knife on the floor where it fell."

  Ranulf buried his face in his hands. "I had let her down. I had broken my promise." His words were muffled in his palms. "After that it took Ruggiero, Ragnar and Thomas some time to find me. They finally did, in a brothel, drunk out of my mind. I stayed drunk for months. It was only when I heard that the Holy Father had called for another pilgrimage to support Baldwin and the others in Jerusalem that I saw a way to make it right with God again."

  Elisabeth laid a hand on his arm. "And the others? Why did they come?"

  Ranulf looked at her. He had tears in his eyes. "Out of love and loyalty for me, I suppose. And for my sin one of them is dead. And he never even got to Palestine, no less Jerusalem."

  They sat quietly together in that place for some time.

  Finally, Elisabeth spoke. "What now? Continue east?"

  He shrugged. "What else? Go make more mothers kill their children rather than face what we bring with us."

  As long as they followed the Halys, which ran just to the south of them, the hunger and thirst that had claimed so many of their number eased. Though deserted, the small settlements and clumps of farm buildings were set like jewels in rich and verdant country with all the pilgrims could have wanted, save for livestock. Wherever the people had gone, like earlier they had taken their animals with them. What the pilgrims had left of the meat taken from mules, and horses that had died in the long, hot, thirsty trek north, was meted out in stews and potage. The one benefit of the terrible dry heat was that the recovered meat cut into strips and spread out on the cargo of the carts dried thoroughly and quickly and therefore lasted longer than it might have. Thus tenderized and chopped small, the pilgrims' stomachs could tolerate what had been so harsh on them before.

  Then the river angled north to a narrow gap in the hills. They were forced to cross it or follow it north to the sea. Again, the Archdeacon and the Lombardy nobles made their demands plain. They would continue east to Nixtar. They were in Danishmend territory now and had not even seen scouts watching them. They insisted the mountainous valley the river had cut to the Black Sea was an unnecessary detour. Certainly Nixtar was due east through more fertile land. They would be there soon and valiantly rescue the noble Bohemond.

  Even Raymond's promises to find boats once on the sea to sail east to Nixtar did not tempt them. By this time no one trusted Raymond not to take what boats they found back to
Constantinople. In spite of their apparent security from attack they all knew that to split forces was to court danger, so they continued east after finding a second ford in the Halys. Crossing it this time was not such a cheerful event.

  Conrad's and the Frankish commanders' contingents felt their hearts sink almost upon reaching the other side of the river. Gone were the fertile fields. Gone was the continuous source of usable water.

  Three full days from the river the pilgrims began to see the glint of metal from the tops of the low hills they rode between. Conrad's contingent was in the van now, had been since the village. Ranulf rode alongside Elisabeth and Albrecht, his squinting eyes scanning where it was clear to see that Paynim had them well in view. Those knights and men-at-arms who had risked removing their helms to try to reduce the effect of the sun now donned them and strapped them on firmly.

  "Looks like we are in for some excitement," the mercenary captain commented acerbically. "I had better find Ragnar and Thomas in case we are called into formation." He saluted his companions and turned his horse and made his way to the rear.

  No scouts had returned for most of the day. They were delayed, captured or dead. That so many sent in so many different directions were missing argued for dead.

  Meanwhile the pilgrim leaders rode together to confer.

  "I wondered where they had got to," Raymond said, his hand over his eye as he saw more and more soldiers on horseback gathering on the heights.

  "Do you get the impression we are being funneled through this valley very deliberately?" the Count asked.

  "I think we are about to find out," Raymond replied. He gestured forward to what for all the world looked like an opening in the line of hills. "No soldiers there," he observed ominously. He looked back to where the German Constable rode close behind him, gesturing for Conrad to ride up alongside him.

  The leaders rode forward conferring with their guides until they reached the wider gap that lay just before them. It was true that the hills that rose up on either side were completely unmanned. As they emerged on the other side they found themselves in what seemed to be an all but deserted valley of immense dimensions.

  Mounted on Gauner near where Conrad and Raymond spoke with the guides, Elisabeth shielded her eyes to look at the vista that lay before her. After the long and anxiety-ridden ride in the Halys Valley with low mountains funneling the pilgrims to this point, it was disorienting to look out over such a wide and mostly empty plain. The Plain of Merzifon, the guides said it was called. They were at its edge, the pass from the valley behind them, and more mountains many miles to the east. She had to shake her head to clear it of the unexpected vertigo.

  The parlay broke up, and Raymond rode back to share the intelligence with his other commanders. Conrad walked his horse over to where his own German knights waited. He pointed to a speck almost in the middle of the plain. "They say that town is called Gumushaciköy." He indicated a distant scattering of structures surrounded by a continuous wall. "Raymond thinks we should head for it."

  "And what do you say, my lord?" asked Black Beast.

  Conrad scanned the way ahead from the north all the way to the south. "The town looks big enough to have more than one well. Perhaps up here the wells don't run dry in midsummer."

  "That is a big 'if,'" the big knight with his bushy black beard responded.

  Conrad glared at him. "This entire escapade is a big 'if.' I think it's our best choice."

  Albrecht rode up to Elisabeth's side. "What is that dust cloud on the far horizon?"

  Overhearing his question, Conrad asked, "What dust cloud? My old eyes can't make it out."

  Elisabeth stood in her stirrups and peered into the distance. "My lord, it looks like it is along the base of the mountains to the southeast. There is some wind over there. Perhaps it is merely that, a windstorm?"

  Conrad frowned. "Let's hope that is all it is." He paused and shook his head. "If it is horsemen then they are a good distance away. We should reach the town long before they cross to it." He glanced around at the tops of the hills they had just passed between. "I see we still have our escort after all."

  Indeed the familiar line of Turks spread along the ridges on either side of them.

  Gerhardt shrugged. "They don't seem to be forming any sort of attack. Just scouts?"

  "Yes, but for whom and why?" the Constable wondered.

  As the pilgrims advanced into the wide plain, the Danishmend riders that had appeared on the hills kept their distance, tracking the pilgrims to both sides of the column. As a result the Christians were able to move along more rapidly than they had to this point. When the walls of the town were visible to all, the pace increased with a promise of good shelter. The reprovisioning before the Halys turned north to the sea had revived spirits until a day or two, and the view ahead helped to reinvigorate them.

  They reached the town of Gumushaciköy just before dark, finding it empty of people and animals but supplied amply with three large wells near the middle of the mud houses. The commanders quickly dispatched their officers to direct the ox carts and remaining pack animals to the center of the town and select the first watch of pickets. They encircled the town where they could see over the crude walls while the clergy and peasants gathered by the wells, surrounded by the thousands of men who dropped where they stood and slept until it was time for their turns on watch. Elisabeth and Albrecht found themselves bunked outside the mud wall of the deserted house Conrad and his household knights squeezed into. Elisabeth knew she could have claimed space on the floor, but she preferred to stay outside with the squires where she could at least breathe.

  Exhausted, the company slept. Elisabeth was surprised to wake at dawn, having assumed her party would be posted to at least one of the watches during the night. "It looks like Conrad got us some extra rest," she commented to Albrecht as she looked about for a place where she could discreetly relieve herself. Privacy was not possible, so she was already reaching into her britches for the cylinder of leather as she headed for the other side of the mud hut.

  The prosthetic was wearing out by now and she got as much pee on her britches as she did against the wall. She was mopping at the moisture when she heard a shout from the southwest. She dashed back to where her companions were grabbing helms, sword belts and shields. "What is it? Oh, my God!"

  Through the gaps in the rickety wall around the town she saw thousands of Turkish archers riding toward the town. Someone screamed "Shield wall!" unnecessarily, as long habit had the men forming concentric circles of outward-facing shields already.

  This time the Turks were not so chary about maintaining distance away from the pilgrims. They knew the Christians would not leave the inadequate protection of the town walls, so they swooped close enough that as they veered to ride around the town some crossbowmen managed to pick off a few. These men in loose robes screamed like any other man and crashed down to the earth from horseback, getting trampled by their fellows riding over them.

  The mounted archers were close enough as well to improve their own harvest. Elisabeth saw that each time the archers rode by where the German contingent were stationed about a dozen men in the shield wall were struck and fell. They were replaced almost as quickly by men who were in the wall behind them in more encircling ranks.

  Just as she was wondering yet again how the archers stayed so well supplied with arrows, the horses with their deadly cargo seemed to veer away. The space they had occupied was now filling with line after line of spearmen with shields. This was new. This was more like the Europeans had expected in spite of Raymond's experienced coaching.

  Albrecht punched her shoulder to gain her attention. "Look there. Do you think that man could be . . . ?"

  Not wanting to raise her head any higher than she needed to, Elisabeth strained to see where he indicated. "Who? Oh, you mean that one richly helmeted man? The one with the red streamer and all those particularly bloodthirsty looking guards?" She looked back at Albrecht. "You think that's Kilij Arslan?
The Sultan?"

  He shrugged. "I would say get Thomas, but the man is out of crossbow range."

  As the morning wore on it seemed to Elisabeth that the ranks of Turks grew thicker and thicker, riding around and around and making her feel dizzy and nauseous again. She noticed Conrad talking to one of the guides who was pointing here and there in the swarm of turbaned riders. She tied Gauner to a post and went to find out what her commander had learned.

  Conrad was distracted, but he answered her question. "He identified the banners of all the tribes represented in that mess. There is one missing, it seems."

  Her look told him she did not comprehend the significance.

  "The Emir of Nixtar is not here."

  "The one holding Bohemond," she stated without inflection. "And?"

  Conrad beckoned one of his younger knights. He pointed to the east and yelled something in the man's ear that Elisabeth did not make out in all the noise.

  "I think we are about to find out where that Emir is. Get back to your men."

  She wanted to stay and find out what he learned from the knight, but she could not disobey his order. She returned with alacrity, reluctant though she was, and retrieved Gauner and surveyed the still circling Turks.

  Ranulf was suddenly beside her. "What did he say?" he demanded without preamble.

  She glanced at him. He had aged since Ruggiero's death, she noticed. "The Emir of Nixtar is not among these attackers. How are Ragnar and Thomas?"

  His eyebrows went up. "Nixtar, eh? I don't know if that is a blessing or suggests worse to come. And Ragnar is anxious to kill something Turkish. Who knows with Thomas?"

  They both looked over at where Conrad sat his mount and waited for one of the Byzantine knights attached to Saint Gilles. The man's face was flushed. Conrad listened to his message, nodded grimly, and turned to ride toward his German party.