Behind the Veil Page 8

  We dare not ask too many questions about their defenses, Tancred thought, and spoke for the first time. “Kerbogha rules your city of Aleppo?” He already knew as much, and that the Arabs looked upon the Turks as being little better than Byzantines.

  “You have heard of Kerbogha?” the Arab asked.

  Nicholas turned to Tancred, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Have you heard of him, my son?”

  “Who has not?” Tancred said. “He is much feared. A ferocious fighter.”

  The eyes of the Arab looked to question Tancred’s weaponry. “You also look a warrior.” He went on, “There is talk that the barbarians from the West are fighting equals. They defeated the Red Lion near Nicaea. There is news that one of their chief princes has taken Edessa. He married an Armenian princess—a Christian. Kerbogha rode with his Turks to free Edessa—but failed to retake the area.”

  Was the Arab measuring his response? Tancred showed none, and instead gestured the second time toward the horses. “Prince Kalid collects horses?” He thought of Alzira….

  “He races them. There are none to best these.”

  “We wish to purchase five of them,” Nicholas said. He reached beneath his tunic and produced a leather pouch. “We will pay well if they are as good you say.”

  “Ah!” the Arab smiled for the first time.

  The bartering continued until Tancred began to fear the light of day. At last Nicholas paid the man, and bidding them peace, they went to get the horses.

  The Arab led them to the pen. The rain had ceased. “If you ride on to Antioch, you may see the father of this mare.” He had cunningly guessed their destination in spite of their caution. “The stallion belongs to Prince Kalid. It is said that he will give such a horse to his bride for a wedding gift.”

  Tancred struggled to restrain himself. “When is the marriage to be?” he asked with apparent disinterest, examining his new horse with satisfaction.

  “Who knows?” the Arab said with a shrug.

  Nicholas cleared his throat. “Come, my son,” he said to Tancred. “The dawn will soon break. We have troubled our Arab friend long enough.”

  They saluted the Arabs and mounted two of the horses, leading the other three back to where Bardas, Rufus, and Demetrious anxiously awaited.

  “We began to worry, Seigneurs,” said Bardas.

  The five rode from St. Symeon while it was yet dark. Before them lay the road to Antioch and the castle. Beside owning a good horse again, Tancred was well equipped. He carried his Toledo sword, a Damascus dagger, and a scimitar. In his bag were his hand-drawn maps, the one of Antioch detailing its environs and its twelve gates—one of which was named after the Apostle Paul. The other drawing he had made was of the Castle of Hohms. Within his inner garment Helena’s remaining jewels of were sewn securely. He had an advantage the western princes did not have: the location of the emir’s palace, where Mosul served as chief bodyguard, as well as a detailed layout of the chambers, including the zenanna—the women’s area, and the eunuch guard’s quarters.

  It was about twenty miles from the sea to Antioch, which lay on the banks of the Orontes River. They followed the river where possible with the mountainous country of Syria to the south, then traveled eastward toward the ancient city.

  The Orontes ran along the far side of the plain, and beyond it rose the city’s great frontal wall, which ran for several miles beside the river. Tancred studied the impressive fortification as it rambled steeply upward to disappear over the hills then emerge again along laurel trees, olive groves, and sesame plantations.

  The impregnable wall of gray stone looked to him to be at least thirty feet high, and he’d been told that it was wide enough across its top to ride four horses abreast like the ancient walls of Babylon. The tower-studded walls then climbed farther up to the shoulder of Mount Silpius, where he recognized a huge tower-citadel a thousand feet above the plain!

  Tancred had discovered from his studies in the Royal Library that Antioch would be unassailable to the crusaders’ attack, and from looking at the ancient city, he agreed. In addition to the great wall surrounding the city, a half-wall stood below the hills, its five main gates staring down as though mocking the advancing army from the west. Each of these gates was flanked strategically by a massive sixty-foot tower, guarded by well-armed Seljuk Turks carrying their deadly short bows and scimitars. Tancred suspected they watched them now as they approached the gate that opened toward the east and the road leading on to Aleppo.

  Tancred held his mount. The siege lines of the crusading feudal lords lay before him. Many had perished on the hard, bitter journey across the bleak and barren mountains of Anatolia where sparse summer grasslands were scorched with heat, and the dry volcanic plains appeared lifeless. The knights had lost precious supplies and some of their prized Great Horses, but the bulk of the fighting men under the various princes and nobles had arrived and were camped far as the eye could see outside the great walls of the city.

  Nicholas was grave as he reined in his horse beside Tancred. “It is a tribute to their courage that the majority of them have survived. The knights and barons of Western Europe are a force the Muslim Turks will find difficult to defeat. Already Nicaea has fallen, followed by Iconium, Capadocia, Tarsus on the coast, Heraclea, and Edessa.”

  “I’ve read those names in the New Testament in the Apostle Paul’s letters,” Tancred said.

  “Yes, the Gospel of Christ spread throughout the entire Roman Empire and beyond. Antioch,” said Nicholas, gesturing to the city, “was where Barnabas and Paul, received their commission from the Holy Spirit to bring the news of Christ’s atoning death and bodily resurrection to all nations. There’s a lot of Biblical history here. One of those twelve gates is called the Gate of Saint Paul.”

  Tancred grew silent as he gazed upon the city. He now wondered how could he get inside?

  “Though the knights and fighting men number over a hundred thousand,” Nicholas continued, “they cannot breach those walls, and little remains of their food supplies.”

  Nicholas fell silent. Tancred guessed they were both thinking the same thing. Famine stalked the crusaders. “And we are going to need some food for our own strength.”

  Rufus spoke up. “Some of us will ride into the smaller districts, and wealthy villas, and look for food and provision for our horses.”

  But when Bardas, Rufus, and Captain Demetrious returned, it was with dour faces. “The Armenians and Arabs informed us they have long ago been looted of poultry, sheep, wine, and clothing,” Bardas said.

  Tancred was not surprised at the news. He had expected as much.

  “The country is stripped bare,” Captain Demetrious added.

  “Let us hope and pray that Captain Rainald and the Genoese take control of the port,” Nicholas encouraged. "I will ride into the camp to try to locate Adehemar,” he said, speaking of his old bishop friend who was Pope Urban’s official church legate on the expedition. “He is a friend of your uncle Rolf, and may have earlier ridden to the Castle of Hohms to visit him. It may be he knows something of Helena and Adrianna, and whether both women are held captive within Antioch. I put nothing past Bishop Basel. He may be in the city as well, dining on a fatted calf with Yaghi-Sian.”

  At the mention of fatted calf, a groan sounded in harmony from Bardas and Rufus. Demetrious chuckled. “I’d be happy with a rooster.”

  As Nicholas rode toward the camp where the blue-and-crimson gonfanon stood like a sentinel in the hot morning, Tancred stood beside his horse, brooding to himself as he contemplated the walls and gates. He would get inside somehow. He must wait for an opportunity.

  “Someone comes riding to meet us,” Rufus warned.

  “He looks Muslim,” added Bardas.

  The man rode not from the direction of the camp, but from some distant cypress trees on a ridge. Tancred watched the lone figure, who wore a faded blue Arab headscarf.

  “Caution, he carries a bow and a scimitar,” Demetrious said, “And stra
ngely, he is followed by a falcon.”

  Tancred smiled and rode his horse forward on the sun-bleached plain.

  They met alone, their Arab horses whinnying and touching noses as though they knew each other, and Tancred reached to grasp the wily old warrior’s arm. It was Hakeem, the Moor from Palermo, Tancred’s faithful friend. He’d not seen him since Hakeem had ridden from the guard castle of Herion to remain a spy in Antioch. Hakeem was thinner, if possible, but no worse for it. Lean and tough, he wore the scars of battle well.

  “So, you arrive at last, Infidel, but only when victory is already in the wind!”

  Tancred watched as the falcon, which had traveled with Hakeem all the way from Palermo, landed on Hakeem’s shoulder.

  ”What spoils in the city do you think to take?” Hakeem asked, shrewdly hinting of Helena. “Perhaps the true booty waits at the Castle of Hohms.”

  “It is good to see you alive, conniving old spy! But where have you been these months when I needed you? Enjoying the favors of Antioch, no doubt. And while I’ve wasted two months, held a slave to a mentally deranged baron!”

  Hakeem’s hard eyes laughed. “Ah, Jehan, I knew if I prowled the Moslem streets long enough you would escape to come here. And see! My confidence in you is unshaken.” He dropped his voice and became serious. “I bring news of the assassin of Derek Redwan!”

  Tancred tensed. “Is Mosul in the city?”

  “I have seen him. He serves as captain of the guard to the royal family of the emir. He is now with Prince Kalid’s uncle, Ma’sud Khan.”

  Tancred had heard the name, Ma’sud, but had never met him. “And Kalid himself?”

  “Away from the city. I trailed him and Commander Kerbogha from Antioch to Aleppo. They seek from the sultan more warriors to aid the city.”

  Tancred steeled himself against the next possible dark answer. “And Helena?”

  Hakeem’s rough brown face, lined with wrinkles, sobered. “I have been able to hear little of her. The last news insists she is under the guardianship of Bishop Basel inside the city.”

  “In Antioch now?” Tancred was surprised. He’d been almost certain she was at the castle.

  “I cannot say for sure. I was attacked near Aleppo by Kalid’s men and received a wound.” He lifted his tunic and proudly displayed a dagger scar. “It heals. But over two weeks were afterward needed.”

  “Praise God you are alive. You’ve done well, Hakeem. We will not give up.”

  “Hah! That treacherous serpent, Basel. He has perhaps thirty men with him. He makes plans since Philip sent Helena to him.”

  “Philip is dead,” Tancred said bluntly.

  Hakeem’s rough brows lifted. “You have been busy.”

  “Not nearly busy enough. If Helena is within Antioch I must find a way inside.”

  “An impossible feat, Jehan, even for you. Although—” he paused glancing back over his shoulder toward the city.

  “Yes?”

  “I have found a secret route through the hills.” He gestured. “But the Turks set a guard at the postern gate once the princes arrived.”

  “How many guards?” Tancred asked quickly.

  Hakeem smiled. “Not many.” He gave a gesture of his head toward the three loyal men watching him while they kept to their horses. “With your warriors we may have one chance in twenty.”

  “Come! We’ll take refuge in the Norman camp until our plans are made secure.”

  “Ah, but it is my infidel head I wish to make secure, master. You forget that in asking me to enter the crusaders’ camp, you invite the hen into the fox’s den! Your three friends behind you, even now watch me with hands on their sword hilts!”

  Tancred laughed. “You will be safe with them. But I understand your caution when it comes to entering the Norman camp. Where will I find you when I need you?”

  Hakeem gestured back toward the cypress trees. “An abandoned village.”

  Thank you my friend, take care of yourself!”

  ***

  Riding inside the Norman camp, Tancred discovered that Nicholas had come upon his Norman cousin.

  “Leif!” Tancred’s spirits rose. His cousin was alive. He’d all but given up hope. It was unfortunate that he had to give him news of Norris’s death.

  Upon entering his cousin’s tent, Tancred was surprised to find Adele, the niece of Bishop Adehemar. “This is my wife,” Leif announced, and his eyes glimmered like pale blue stone in his handsome sun-bronzed face. His long golden hair was drawn back with a leather thong.

  “You work fast,” Tancred said taunting him, and turned with a smile as Adele rushed to greet him with joy. She was representative of most of the women who had joined the expedition to free Jerusalem from the infidel.

  “Your cousin Erich died as a brave knight for our Lord,” she said. “Then I met your other cousin Leif, and I knew my future was blessed of God to join his. He too, is a great warrior. We will both fight for our Lord to take Jerusalem!”

  Tancred wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

  After she brought them what refreshments she had in her meager store, Leif explained how he had searched for Tancred and Norris after the attack at the summer house.

  “Philip’s guards surrounded the house and I escaped. After a few days I ventured into the Greek city hoping I could learn something more, and gain the help of warrior friends. When we returned, the summer house was deserted. I searched the area and found your medical satchel in the bushes; I have it with me. Then I learned about the guard which Bardas had paid to let you to hide there. I confronted him, and when he showed fear, I made him talk truth. He betrayed you—when I threatened to run him through, he begged for his life in exchange for the emerald. It is in the satchel with your medical supplies.” He reached for the skin of wine. “Then we had no choice except to ride to join Prince Bohemond.”

  Tancred was satisfied. He’d never doubted his cousin’s loyalty. He had worried more about Leif being dead or taken prisoner than whether he had tried to help him escape. Leif was a warrior of honor, and Tancred knew he had gone the full measure.

  “Walter of Sicily has not been seen in camp,” Nicholas told Tancred. “Bishop Adehemar states clearly that Bohemond has not heard from Walter since departing Constantinople.”

  “None of our clan is here,” Leif assured Tancred. “I sought for them as soon as I arrived.”

  “Strange,” Nicholas commented, frowning. He looked at Tancred. “I am not comfortable with their silence. What if Basel or even Mosul made contact with Walter, hoping to trap you to stand trial, they may be at the Castle of Hohms expecting you to come there.”

  Tancred considered.

  Leif scowled. “But why would our uncle Walter think so? Is not the Byzantine Lady Helena inside Antioch?”

  Nicholas stroked his black mustache, and his lively dark eyes reflected his deep misgivings. “Yes…perhaps…did Hakeem have any word of Helena or Adrianna’s whereabouts?” he looked at Tancred.

  Tancred explained the difficulty Hakeem had undergone at Aleppo.

  “Then we do not know for certain,” Nicholas said, leaning back on his elbow as he chomped on a hunk of bread and cheese. “Adehemar is also uncertain. When he first arrived at the Castle of Hohms, Rolf was not there, but out on patrol. The guards left in charge knew nothing to pass on.”

  Neither did Tancred like the uncertain news. Helena might be anywhere—the castle, Antioch, or even Aleppo.”

  “My instincts tell me she is in Antioch,” Tancred said.

  “Little reason trust your instincts,” Nicholas said.

  “Nevertheless, I must get inside the city.”

  “And I will send spies to search out the castle. We will once more try to get a written message to Rolf Redwan.”

  “In the meantime,” Leif said, “the common soldiers are going without much food. What news do you have from the Greek city, Bishop Nicholas?”

  Tancred suspected that the emperor had long ago abandoned them, withholding prov
isions because the western princes and nobles refused to surrender the villages conquered along the way since the fall of Nicaea.

  “Do you blame them for not yielding the booty to him?” Leif complained. “They remember the Byzantine treachery done them at Nicaea. And there will be treachery anew over Antioch. General Taticus is here now as legate of the emperor. Again, he wishes to secretly negotiate the surrender of Antioch to Byzantium before any of the princes take the city. But Bohemond has plans to thwart General Taticus.”

  The news was not surprising to Tancred or Nicholas. Tancred told him of the Genoese fleet. “By now St. Symeon is in the hands of the Byzantines. Captain Rainald will waste no time setting a course for Cyprus to gain supplies, but the arrival of the Genoese to reinforce the knights will do little. The problem of food will continue as the princes have even more fighting men to feed.”

  “Rumors abound of hope,” Leif complained: “By summer, there will be food,”

  “In three more weeks we will be in Jerusalem.”

  Tancred gestured his impatience. “Words of hope, when not based on facts, circle like falcons, but never land. Rumors also persist that the emperor will send his engineers with siege weapons as he promised at Nicaea. Whether the feudal princes truly believe this is doubtful. Bohemond wishes to take Antioch and become its seigneur.”

  “So does Count Raymond,” said Nicholas. “Adehemar mentioned it to me. Duke Godfrey, however, seems to have mellowed. He speaks more of the glory of God than of his own. That, by itself, is a miracle!” Nicholas said wryly.

  The pride, arrogance, and bold ruthless courage of the western princes were well known to Tancred and the others. If there were a breed of warriors who could take Antioch and Jerusalem from the well-protected Moslem Turks, it would be these men, he thought.

  Leif now became aware of something he apparently had not at first noticed. “Norris should have joined us here by now.”