Beloved Pilgrim (34 page)

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.

One of his aides drew their attention and
then waited as they settled nearby to hear their commander's
words.

"That dust cloud some of you noticed to the
east is coming toward us from the general direction of Nixtar. We
are already hard pressed, and reinforcements to the Turkish ranks
will not do us any good. We have been deputed to break out of here
somehow and do some scouting to the north and also look for more
water."

A chorus of voices demanding to be part of
the scouting party nearly deafened Elisabeth, who happened to be
nearer the commander than most. Her own voice was part of the
din.

"I will take fifty knights. Go round up your
men, including shield men, and let their officers know we are in
for some rough riding. That should make . . . " He leaned to his
aide and asked the man a question. He relayed the answer. "That
should give us about seven hundred men and at least fifty shields
in addition to the knights. We could go faster and retreat sooner
with fewer, but it's likely we will have to do some fighting." His
lips curled up at the edges at the enthusiastic cheer his men
returned at this news. Nodding, he turned to ride to the command
center for more instructions.