Beloved Pilgrim (26 page)

Elisabeth had expected the desolation of
unending desert once outside the immediate environs of
Constantinople. Instead she beheld wide grasslands on either side
of her as she rode. It was beautiful, if strange to her eyes more
accustomed to dense German forests. The distant hills were gently
rounded and dotted with clumps of trees. The higher hills were
sometimes completely forested. Sheep grazed in peace until they
were in Seljuk territory. Then the grasslands, though they
obviously were used as pasture, were empty. The people who lived in
the small mean villages had advance warning of the pilgrims'
approach. The livestock was concealed in unseen glens. All but the
oldest women were also missing. Eyes both hostile and curious
followed the horde as they traveled to Ancyra.

Elisabeth felt both excitement and dread as
the first sight of the walls of the city appeared over the horizon.
It took her mind off the pain of parting so soon from Maliha and
Tacetin. It was, however, her first battle. Like any other soldier
or knight, she was aware that her days on the earth might be few in
number. She suddenly realized she did not know if her beloved was
Christian or Muslim. She prayed the former was the case, so at
least they would be reunited in Heaven. Then it occurred to her
that while she herself might be forgiven everything for making her
way to Jerusalem, the Almighty might not be so sanguine about
Maliha's part in their illicit lovemaking. Her fear grew more
intense as the consequences overtook her imagination.

With the hundreds of other knights she
pressed toward the command tents the leaders of the force occupied
at the encampment thrown up out of arrow's reach of the battlements
of Ancyra. Though she was unable to get close enough to hear what
they discussed, others passed back at least reasonably credible
versions of what those who could hear told the rows of men behind
them. Hearing that the commanders were surprised to see few men on
the palisades she peered up at them, her hand shading her eyes. She
could pick out individual figures in onion-shaped helms. She was
unsure due to her inexperience how many she should see, but it
seemed few. They stalked about their fortifications carrying their
spears upright.

Saint Gilles, still vexed at the change of
plans, nevertheless dominated the discussion of strategy. It was to
be an all-out assault, unless, of course, the garrison rode out to
attack. No one seemed to think that likely. Even if it was fully
garrisoned, the pilgrims outnumbered them at least three to one,
including Tsitsis's mercenaries. If no reinforcements came from
Kilij Arslan, self-styled Sultan of the Seljuk, this stronghold
would certainly soon be back in the hands of the Emperor.

Nothing had changed when, not long after,
Elisabeth found herself fully armored and fully armed in one line
of pilgrim knights. She thought she saw Gerhardt's and Black
Beast's mounts, one in the line to her fore and one in her own
line. Alain must be in here somewhere, but the mercenaries with
Ranulf were no doubt each with their respective troops, swordsmen
Ranulf and Ragnar and pike man Ruggiero with the infantry, Thomas
with the crossbowmen.

Elisabeth knew that the two weapons implicit
in siege warfare were intimidation and starvation. Neither seemed
likely to have an impact with Ancyra. However frightening the horde
of pilgrims, militant and otherwise, might appear to the occupants,
it did not take eagle eyes to see that they were utterly without
siege engines. Without something to smash through stone walls, all
they had to shoot at the wall were crossbow bolts.

Starvation was left, but she wondered now if
that would be the proverbial two-edged sword. No longer in
Byzantine territory the pilgrims' own access to supplies was
limited. She thought of the packet of dried bread and lentil paste
she carried in her saddle bag, so lovingly prepared and packed by
Maliha's hands. The force had provisions, but for how long? The
countryside was rich with crops, undisturbed as of yet by the
Turkish armies. Foraging parties would find the food and livestock
hidden by farmers and villagers eventually, but it would run out
just as surely.

There was a shout from a distance. Her eyes
shot to the battlements. If it had come from any of the men there,
now running to the south ramparts, she could not interpret the
meaning. Then she heard a chorus of shouts nearer the ground, and
she learned one way a siege becomes a pitched battle.

The Pecheneg were deployed nearer the city
walls on the south. Elisabeth could see that they were, as a mass,
riding full tilt toward a stream of horsemen and men on foot that
appeared to be spilling from that side of the town. Even from this
distance she could see they were Turks. The colors, the armor, the
trappings of the horses told the story. Faced with the might of the
pilgrims and the prospect of unendurable hardship, or perhaps in an
attempt to leave a doomed city and join their Sultan in a more
honorable contest, the armed men of Ancyra were making a run for
it. She looked from side to side to learn what the commanders would
do.

Conrad rode forward and with one raised arm,
sword in hand, signaled, "Advance!" Gauner, though drawn to chase
the horse's tail in front of him, waited for his knight's command.
At last, the work he was trained to do. That she had made her
brother teach her as well. With a lump in her throat, she drew her
sword, joined the battle cry, and rushed forward to chase the
deserters.

The Pecheneg were already on them by the time
she and those in her column overtook the runners. They cut them
down to a man. The horses negotiated the bloody bodies scattered
about. The mercenaries from north of the Black Sea paused very
little in their chase during the slaughter and poured down on the
hindmost Turkish cavalry moments later. Some of the mounted Turks
turned to face the attackers while others sped forward. Tzitas
waved his men onward, leaving the pilgrim knights to face those who
sacrificed so they had a chance to escape.

Elisabeth braced herself, angling her body
forward and down toward Gauner's neck. She kept her eyes on the men
in onion helms and watched as the first line of knights crashed
into them. Some of the knights held lances, and those they opposed
went down with futile slashes of their swords against the long
weapons. Only a heartbeat later, Gauner's forward rush hurled her
toward one man in chain mail just like her own but with a hood that
covered all of his face but his eyes under his helm. He was on a
nervous horse that seemed as intent on Gauner's huge bulk and fiery
eyes as the Turk was on her, his enemy.

She had learned well. She watched his eyes,
not his sword arm, and saw instantly what he meant to do. It was
straightforward, nothing fancy, simply a slice down to dislodge her
own weapon from her gauntleted fist. She tapped her horse's flank
with one foot, and he swerved to the left just enough to distract
the Turk. With a wild backhand she swung as she passed, catching
the man on the back of his sword arm, driving it forward and
loosing his grip. The sword flew up and over the horse's head to
land somewhere on the other side. The Turk screamed in pain and
rage. As they both turned their mounts to come together once more,
she saw the man's fierce eyes and marveled at how little fear she
saw in them. She heard him cry out the name of his God as he rode
directly at her. He now threw his horse to cross her path with its
body.

His intention was to cause her to swerve
again so she would be unbalanced as they passed so he could crush
her skull with the mace he had pulled from somewhere about his
person. Instead of swerving she pulled back on Gauner's reins and
kicked him forward, causing him to jump and kick to the front and
rear at the same time that he stopped. She heard the snaps as the
full force of Gauner's kick broke the Turk's leg and his horse's
ribs. As Gauner hit the ground he turned slightly and kicked again
at the falling horse's head just as he had been trained. His rear
hooves also struck the Turk who had come around the man she was
fighting to close on her from behind. Gauner must have sensed him
just in time to defend them both as their foes, front and rear,
fell in pain, blood, and screams. She settled Gauner after a couple
more kicks, which was just enough time for the second man to slip
off his dying horse and charge the two or three steps toward her,
swinging with his sword at her waist. Instinctively she brought her
sword point into his eyes and he impaled himself on it as it
blocked the blow he had aimed.

Her first kills in battle, only her second
and third ever. It had gone just as Elias taught her, with Black
Beast's tireless tutelage adding the rote reaction she needed to
develop. She did not have time to consider the significance,
however, as another Turk with a pike shot toward her. The man was
covered in blood, whether his own or a pilgrim knight's she could
not know. She danced Gauner sideways to escape the path of the pike
whose point drilled directly to her chest. As he passed her she saw
a mace swung at the Turk's head, its deadly points smashing and
piercing the gleaming helm. It was Black Beast, roaring as he came
down on his victim. The man fell from his horse, which panicked as
he hung from where he was caught in part of the saddle. It sidled
away in fright. The Turk's body shook loose and thudded to the
ground. Black Beast whirled his horse, rode to the Turk's mount,
and claimed its reins.

She recognized his right to take the prize
and remembered her own kills. She looked around, peering as best
she could from the eyeholes of her helm, and saw that the battle
was over. Even up ahead the Pecheneg milled about the dead,
prodding bodies with their weapons. Some hopped down from their
horses and started to remove armor, swords, anything they could
take from the dead. Some held the leads of two or three horses.

She realized that by killing both of her
opponents' horses she had no prize. She looked back at Black Beast
who dismounted and started to rifle the dead just as the Pecheneg
were doing. He reached up to hand her both of his horses' reins.
"Hold these for me, will you?" he asked, his voice hoarser than
ever from screaming war cries.

She took the reins and watched as he removed
everything but the helm from the dead man's body. He kicked the
helm so that it came off the man's head and skittered, bouncing,
away over the other bodies. The head underneath was dented and
bloody from where the mace's sharp steel thorns had crushed his
skull. The Beast moved to another body. He looked up and growled
very much like a beast when another pilgrim tried to assert his own
claims. The man backed away for easier booty. Now that the
deafening screams and cries of battle were silenced, she could hear
the boasts of other knights intermingled with moans from the
wounded and dying. The man Black Beast was searching made a sound.
"Not dead, you bastard?" the big man said and took his heavily
booted foot and stomped down hard on the man's throat. The moans
stopped.

Albrecht found her as Elisabeth rode
exhausted and in shock toward the city. Its gates were wide open
and pilgrims of all types streamed through the gap. Some knights on
horseback attempted to control the mob, with some success. Once the
people were inside, however, they seemed to dash every which
way.

Her squire road up alongside her. "Are you
all right?"

She reached up and pulled off her helm and
pushed back her hood. Her dark hair was plastered to her head with
sweat. She nodded. "No prize, though."

Albrecht smiled grimly. "You made a
kill?"

Her eyes vacant, she looked at him. "Yes,
two, for Elias." Her eyes shut, and then opened more focused. "They
ran. They left their people and ran."

He shrugged. "Not much other choice. It was
that or get captured and tortured or savaged."

"They left their families to face that
instead." Her disgust showed on her face.

"No, I don't think so. I think Raymond will
be merciful. They will give the city back to Alexios, as intact as
possible. What happens later when we are gone and he decides what
to do with the Muslims . . . that I don't know. Cast them out, I
suppose."

She grimaced. "If they are lucky." Her hands
flew across her chest as she made the sign of the cross.

Count Raymond of Toulouse dispatched a number
of knights to patrol the city in order to prevent looting. "This is
the Emperor's fortress now," he urged. "It must stay as it is. He
will not thank us for a sacked city."

Elisabeth and Albrecht were among those on
policing duty. It was no easy task. The Lombards in particular
would not heed the instructions. Throughout the city small bands
could be seen taking goods of more portability than worth from
shops, homes and even churches, or what had been churches before
the Turks came. She found two men who were harassing a woman and
her nubile daughter. Around the corner were several Lombard
children lying in wait for an old Jew who tried to make his way
unmolested through the quarter. Albrecht pointed to a trio of
Austrian soldiers who toted a chest down the street as a frail old
man chased after, pleading.

She tried to reason with them at first, but
soon realized that only force would make an impact. She set her
men-at-arms on the groups of looters and had them hauled away to
meet harsh judgment. As she found she did not have the personnel to
keep the pace up, she began to deal out the mortal justice herself.
Finding a small troop of Frankish men-at-arms dragging hysterical
women out of a gated house, some of them already being raped, she
commanded her men to rush in and kill the men. She herself rode in,
letting Gauner trample one, leaning to slice down on others.

In an encounter with Lombard peasants running
out of a small mosque with its meager treasures, she picked out
their leader and personally swung her sword to slice off his head.
It became easier and easier the more resistance she got and the
angrier it made her. After hardly being blooded in the battle
against the Turks, she found her sword, horse, and self splattered
with and covered with blood from her own countrymen, from other
pilgrims.