But, where the unpredictable Prince of Taranto had proven remarkably compliant and reasonable, the solid and pious Count of Toulouse and Provence demonstrated an inflexibility normally associated only with four-footed pack animals, and bluntly refused to sign any document which might compromise the special authority granted him by the pope.
'As the first nobleman to take the cross,' Raymond explained patiently, 'I have been honoured to receive my commission from the hand of Pope Urban himself. Therefore, I must respectfully decline the oath you propose.'
Bishop Adhemar, the pope's legate and special envoy, nodded smugly and smiled in righteous superiority. 'The vow you propose, Emperor Alexius, is unnecessary,' he declared grandly. 'A nobleman who has sworn on the Cross of Christ no longer heeds any earthly sovereign, but is answerable to God alone.'
Alexius, almost speechless with anger and dismay-and wearied beyond words by the unrelenting arrogance of the crusaders, gazed down from his throne upon the recalcitrant lords before him. Attended by his drungarius, two magisters, a phalanx of palace Varangi, and assorted excubitori, the Emperor of All Christendom on his golden throne presented an impressive spectacle. Nevertheless, Raymond, hands gripping his swordbelt, remained unmoved.
'Are we to understand,' the emperor intoned, 'that this commission of yours prevents you from acknowledging the superior authority of the Imperial Throne?'
'In no way, Lord Emperor,' Raymond replied graciously. 'I do freely acknowledge it in all areas pertinent to its domain, save one-the leadership of the pilgrimage itself. This honour, as I have explained, has been granted me by His Holiness Pope Urban.'
'We might remind you, Count Raymond, that even Bishop Urban holds his position by our sufferance,' the emperor replied, turning his gaze from the count to Bishop Adhemar. 'Any authority the Patriarch of Rome enjoys derives and flows from this throne. Therefore, the oath which we require in no way subverts or denies your special commission.'
Raymond, gaunt and tall, stared sternly ahead, his face dour and expressionless. 'Be that as it may, it is rumoured in the camps that the emperor has raised Bohemond of Taranto to a position of high authority in the empire. It is said he is to become Grand Domestic of the Imperial Armies.'
'At the risk of inspiring the emperor's wrath,' Adhemar remarked, 'I would point out that Prince Taranto does not possess His Holiness' sanction and blessing. This has been granted to Count Raymond alone, and I, in my capacity as the pope's legate, have been given a special authority in such matters as -
'These rumours you mention,' the emperor said, interrupting the tedious Adhemar, 'are founded on Bohemond's ambition. While it is true that he has asked for high recognition within the imperial army, we hasten to reassure you, Lord Raymond, we have not acquiesced to Lord Bohemond's hopes of elevation.'
'Be that as it may,' Raymond observed woodenly, 'the crusade must have a leader. As I have been chosen by him who first summoned the valiant to take arms in this holy endeavour, I see no reason to relinquish the small authority I have been granted.' Seeing the colour rising to the emperor's face, the gaunt lord thought to amend his position. 'Naturally,' he added hastily, 'if the emperor was to assume personal leadership of the crusade, he would find me a most loyal and trustworthy vassal.'
'Alas, the untimely inception of this enterprise renders that possibility impractical,' Alexius told him firmly. 'Owing to the press of the imperial affairs, we will not be assuming direct command of the crusade, however much we might wish to do so.'
'Then I have no other choice,' Raymond replied, as if gallantly acquiescing to the inevitable, 'but to honour the pope's command and persevere in the position of leadership to which I have been called.'
Adhemar's smile deepened. He tucked his arms inside the sleeves of his bishop's robe and almost hugged himself with satisfaction.
'Oh, but we think you too hasty, Lord Toulouse,' remarked Alexius. He rose slowly and took up the parchment bearing the oath and names of his previous guests. 'Perhaps we can broaden your range of alternatives. See here: bind your allegiance to us, your rightful sovereign, or cling to the pope and retire from the crusade. The Bishop of Rome serves
Raymond, already rigid with stubbornness, stiffened yet further. The emperor, seeing he had pressed the matter far enough for the present, decided to let the headstrong count ponder his choice.
'Tomorrow,' he said, 'the armies of Bohemond and Tancred will be conducted by the imperial fleet across the Bosphorus to join the armies of Hugh and Godfrey at Pelecanum, and resume their march to Jerusalem.'
He paused and regarded the Count of Toulouse sternly. 'You, however, will remain behind.'
'How long, Lord Emperor, must I wait?'
Was the stony-headed knight softening already? 'That is for you to decide,' Alexius answered. 'Sign the oath and you shall rejoin the others without delay. Refuse your emperor, and you will wait. For, without your signature on this oath -' he snapped the proffered parchment with his fingertips, 'you will not be allowed to move a single step beyond the walls of this city. Thus, any authority you possess will perforce fall to another.'
Alexius dismissed his guests, who were immediately returned to their camp to ponder the implications of the emperor's decree. As soon as the great doors closed on the Salamos Hall, the commander of the imperial fleet turned to his kinsman and said, 'Do you think he will sign it?'
'Who can say?' wondered the emperor. 'We have met many proud men in our day, Dalassenus, but none more haughty than Raymond of Toulouse. He is a wilful man who believes himself chosen of God to lead his rabble of an army to glory. He considers it an honour of the highest regard, and he is jealous of it.'
'And now he fears he may lose it,' Dalassenus mused. 'That was very shrewd, Basileus.'
'Perhaps,' Alexius allowed cautiously. 'We shall see which is stronger-his fear or his jealousy.'
TWENTY
For eight days, Count Raymond of Toulouse held fast to his resolve and refused to add his signature to the oath of loyalty the emperor required. Instead, he stood by and watched the huge troop ships of the emperor's fleet ceaselessly plying the waters of the Bosphorus, ferrying the armies of Bohemond and Tancred across to Pelecanum and speeding them on their way. Meanwhile, merchant vessels of every kind and description arrived in port fully laden with supplies of grain, oil, wine, and livestock, for the provisioning of the crusaders. From morning to night, the busy waterway heaved and surged with a barely-contained tumult. At times there were so many boats out on the water the count thought a knight could have galloped from one shore to the other on shipdeck.
Every day, pilgrims in their thousands made their slow way down to the river landings on the Golden Horn, leading horses and pulling wagons overflowing with equipment and camp clutter. The horses were boarded first-a laborious chore which slowed an already sluggish operation to a tedious crawl; and when the animals were secure, the wagons, which had been disassembled on shore, were put aboard, followed by the weapons, supplies, and equipment the wagons had been carrying. Only when the ships could hold no more baggage, were the people allowed to come aboard-knights and their footmen first, and then the camp followers: the priests and churchmen of various kinds, the wives of the crusaders, and their children.
Fully laden, a troop ship could carry fifty horses, twenty wagons, and from three to four hundred people. The emperor had provided eleven of these large ships for the operation, and each ship could make two trips a day. Thus, while Count Raymond and Bishop Adhemar stood idly by, the numbers on the shore dwindled away with startling rapidity, until, after eight days, the sun set on an almost deserted quay.
The ninth day saw the arrival of Robert, Duke of Normandy, son of William Rufus, King of England; his cousin, Robert, Count of Flanders; and his brother-in-law, Count Stephen of Blois. Their combined forces ran to more than forty thousand men, including a small regiment led by the bellicose cleric, Bishop Odo of Bayeux.
Despite a slight difficulty with the Adriatic crossing, which resulted in the regrettable drowning of four hundred
