among the council, particularly in Duke Godfrey’s corner. Bohemond ignored them.
‘Why, then, should one of us not have primacy, even for a short time, in directing our affairs? Let one who has distinguished himself in battle, whose army has proved itself time and again against the Turks, be appointed to break this city open before we are slaughtered.’
‘And I suppose,’ Count Raymond interrupted, ‘that such a man might then claim the city as the fair spoils of his victory.’
‘Why not? He would have earned it.’
That brought Tatikios to his feet, though it was Raymond again who spoke first. ‘Have you forgotten your oath to the Emperor, Lord Bohemond? To restore all the lands of Asia that are rightfully his? Would you so happily perjure yourself to your greed?’
‘When the Greek King comes in person to share our sufferings and our war, then perhaps he will earn the honouring of my promise. But for now, he sits in his palace surrounded by the eunuchs while we – all of us – fester and perish in misery.’
His words drew many nods of agreement, though not from Raymond or Bishop Adhemar. But at last Tatikios was able to speak.
‘Perhaps, in the folly of youth, Lord Bohemond still believes that it is only the point of the sword, where blood is spilled, that matters. The wiser among you, my lords, will know that no sword will cut true without a strong hand on the hilt. If the Emperor Alexios does not share your burdens here it is because he campaigns in our rear, guarding our supply lines and preventing the Turks from surrounding us.’
‘Where else would you find a Greek but in the rear?’ Bohemond asked, to widespread laughter.
‘Where else would you find a Norman but banging his head against impenetrable walls, too dull to notice he had tipped out his brains? If you had heeded my plan, to hold back from the city and choke it from afar, then you would not now waste your forces in fruitless attrition.’
‘If the Emperor had sent the men he promised, we would have had the strength to take the city. His treachery consigns us to failure.’
‘His generosity keeps you from dying of famine.’
Bishop Adhemar clapped his hands. ‘Enough. Be seated – both of you,’ he added, with a pointed glance at Bohemond. ‘Quarrelling among allies will profit us nothing. You are right, Lord Bohemond, that the Turks rejoice at our lack of progress. But how much more would they rejoice if they could hear your quarrelling now.’
With an unrepentant sneer, curiously satisfied for one so rebuked, Bohemond seated himself in silence.
It had not been unforeseen. On the day we left Constantinople, the Emperor had gathered the princes together on the shores of the Bosphorus. It had reminded me of a fair or a market, for the air was sweet with the sounds of harps and lyres and laughter, the smells of blossom and roasting meat. At the top of the slope, beneath the high bluffs, the Emperor had caused pavilions to be erected, each sewn with the standards of the princes. I still remembered the stupefied grins on their faces as they emerged, each from his own tent, marvelling at the treasure that they had found within. Bishop Adhemar and our own Patriarch had celebrated the Eucharist on the beach, handing the cup to each of the princes in turn, and they had sworn that the blood of Christ would be as the blood of brothers among them. Ladies from the palace had woven their hair with garlands of gold which gleamed in the May sun, and the sea had sparkled with promise. Afterwards, after the feast, the Emperor had summoned them to a council.
‘You have come far,’ he announced. The purple walls of his tent glowed like embers, rippling in the fresh breeze. Inside, the air was close and warm. ‘But the holy road to Jerusalem is longer still – and harder. You will need clean hearts and pure souls if your pilgrimage is to succeed, if the lands of Asia are to be reclaimed for Christendom. Remember that you walk in the footsteps of Christ: be strong as he was strong, but also merciful as he was merciful.’
He paused, sipping from a great golden chalice. I fancied that there was more grey in his beard now than there had been six months earlier, and a slight shrinking of the stout shoulders beneath the gems on his robe. Even the act of breathing seemed to