God Wills It! Part 65

CHAPTER x.x.xIX

HOW PETER BARTHELMY HAD A DREAM

On Sat.u.r.day, the fifth day of June, in the Year of Grace one thousand and ninety-eight, Kerbogha appeared before Antioch with a countless host. On the Sat.u.r.day following a small loaf of bread sold among the Christians for a gold byzant; an egg was worth six deniers; a pound of silver was none too much for the head of a horse. Men who had endured bitter sieges in the home-land, who had marched across the parching deserts of Isauria without a groan, now at last began to confess their sins to the priest, and to prepare to die. For help seemed possible from none save G.o.d--and G.o.d was visibly angry with His servants for the blood and pa.s.sion at the city's sack.

On the day after his entrance, Richard Longsword showed three red s.h.i.+elds on the minaret, and after a little, to his unspeakable joy, there were three lances with red pennons set close together before the Gate of St. George. Mary and Musa were safe in the camp of Kerbogha, and Richard blessed St. Michael and our Lady ever Virgin. Yet for a while he was angry with Heaven. If he had entered the city so easily, might not Mary have come in at his side? What need of parting? But he did not keep these feelings long; and his thankfulness was deep when he knew that at least his wife was not seeing gallant seigneurs, even the very Count of Flanders, begging in the city streets for a bit of bread, nor was herself enduring the awful hunger.

For the famine was the last stroke of the wrath of G.o.d upon His unworthy people. Thousands had died when the first hordes, led by Peter the Hermit and Walter Lackpenny, had been cut off by Kilidge Arslan; thousands more at Dorylaeum; tens of thousands when they tracked the desert and besieged Antioch. But this was the crowning agony. When the news came that Kerbogha was approaching, the princes had indeed done what they could. Messengers had rushed down to the coast to bring up provisions landed by the friendly Italian merchants; foraging parties had been sent to sweep the country. But nine months long Syria had been harried by the armies. In a few days all the Christians were face to face with starvation. Pleasanter far to spend their last strength in the daily battles with Kerbogha, who ever pressed nearer, than to endure the slow agony in the city. Yet the infidels won success upon success. The Moslem garrison of the castle made continual sorties; the outlying forts of the Christians were defended gallantly, but in vain. Each day drifted into the starving city some tale of the pride and confidence of Kerbogha--how when squalid Frankish prisoners were haled before him, his _atabegs_ had roared at his jest, "Are these shrunken-limbed creatures the men who chatter of taking Jerusalem?" and how he had written to the arch-sultan: "Eat, drink, be merry! The Franks are in my clutch. The wolf is less terrible than he boasted!"

In the city the cry again was, "G.o.d wills it!" But the meaning was, "G.o.d wills we should all perish or become slaves;" and on every hand was dumb lethargy or mad blasphemy.

New misfortunes trod upon old. In a sortie Bohemond the crafty and brave was wounded; Tancred's and G.o.dfrey's valor ended in repulse. The foe pressed closer, damming the last tiny stream of provisions that trickled into the doomed city. Boiled gra.s.s, roots, leaves, leathern s.h.i.+elds, and shoes; the corpses of slain Saracens--the Franks had come even to this! Richard feasted with Duke G.o.dfrey on a morsel from a starved camel. The good Duke sacrificed his last war-horse except Marchegai, and then the lord of Lorraine was more pinched for food than the meanest villain on his distant lands. As day pa.s.sed into day despair became deeper. Many, once among the bravest, strove to flee in the darkness down to the port of St. Simeon and escape by sea. Many went boldly to the Moslem camp, and confessed Islam in return for a bit of bread. "Rope-dancers," howled the survivors, of those who by night lowered themselves from the walls. And Bishop Adhemar talked of the fate of Judas Iscariot. But still desertions continued, from the great counts of Blois and of Melun down to the humblest.

One day Richard was cut to the quick by having Prince Tancred, who kept the walls, send him under guard one of his own St. Julien men, who had been caught while trying to desert. Richard had prided himself on the loyalty of his band, and his fury was unbounded.

"Ho! Herbert, rig a noose and gibbet. Turn the rascal off as soon as Sebastian has shriven him!" rang his command.

To his surprise a murmur burst from the men-at-arms about, and he surveyed them angrily.

"What is this, my men? Here is a foul traitor to his seigneur and his G.o.d! Shall he not die?"

Then a veteran man-at-arms came forward and kissed Richard's feet.

"Lord, we have served in the holy war leal and true. But it is plain to all men that G.o.d does not wish us to set eyes on Jerusalem! We have parents and wives and children in dear France. We have done all that good warriors may, now let us go back together. To-night lead us yourself along the river road, and let us escape to the port of St.

Simeon."

No thundercloud was blacker than Richard Longsword's face when he answered, hardly keeping self-mastery:--

"And does this fellow speak for you all?"

"For all, lord," cried many voices. "Did you not promise to bring us home in safety, to lead us back safe and sound to Nicole, and Berta, and Ales? Surely we did not take the cross to die here, as starving dogs. Let us die with our good swords in our hands as becomes Christians, or in our beds, if G.o.d wills."

Richard had drawn out Trenchefer, and swept the great blade round. "My good va.s.sals," he said in the lordly fas.h.i.+on he could put on so well, "you know your seigneur. Know that he is a man who has thus far gone share and share to the last crumb with his people, and will. Does not my belly pinch? do not I live without bread? But I say this: this man shall die and so shall every other die a felon's death who turns craven, or I am no Richard, Baron de St. Julien, whose word is never to be set at naught."

There was a long silence among all the company that stood in the broad court of the Antioch house. They knew well that Richard never made a threat in vain. They did not know how great was the pain in the heart of their seigneur. There was silence while the body of the deserter was launched into eternity.

"Amen! Even so perish all who deny their Lord!" declared Sebastian.

Richard's heart was very dark when he visited Rollo that day. Thus far, by great s.h.i.+fts, he had secured forage. All the other St. Julien beasts had perished; men muttered at Longsword for sparing the horse.

But after that ride from Aleppo he would sooner have butchered Herbert.

But was this to be the end of the Crusade? of the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Clermont? of the agony of the march? Better if all had ended with the bowstring at Aleppo. No, not better; for Mary was saved.

A gloomy council came that afternoon at the Patriarch's palace, under G.o.dfrey's presidency; no hope--the Greek Emperor they had awaited was reported retreating! The iron men at the council groaned. Guy, brother of Bohemond, cried out against G.o.d Himself.

"Where is Thy Power, now, Lord G.o.d?" rang his despairing blasphemy.

"If Thou art all-powerful, why dost Thou let these things be? Are we not Thy soldiers, and Thy children? Where is the father or the king who would suffer his own to perish when he has power to save? If now Thou forsakest Thy champions, who will henceforth fight for Thee?"

"Peace!" interrupted Bishop Adhemar; "is not G.o.d angry with us enough already? Will you rouse Him further by your blasphemies?" And Guy retorted madly:--

"Angry, _Sanctissime?_ Look on our faces, my lord bishop. Do they look as if we had feasted? There are mothers lying dead in the street this moment, with babes sucking at their milkless b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I say we have nothing more to fear from G.o.d. He has shown us His final anger; mercy, indeed, if with one great clap He could strike us all dead and end the agony. What is to be done, if not to die, one and all, cursing the day we put the cross upon our b.r.e.a.s.t.s?" And the speaker almost plucked the red emblem from his shoulder. Adhemar did not reply, and Raymond of Toulouse asked very gravely, turning to G.o.dfrey:--

"Have you sent the heralds to Kerbogha, as the council agreed, offering to yield the city and return home, on sole condition that our baggage be left to us?"

G.o.dfrey's face was even darker than before when he replied: "Yes, Lord Count; there is no need of many words, nor to examine the heralds.

Kerbogha will listen to only one surrender--submission at discretion--after which he will decide which of us he will hale away into slavery, which put to death."

The Norman Duke and Gaston of Bearn had risen together.

"Fair princes," cried the latter, "we are at our wits' end. There will soon be no strength left in a man of us to strike a blow, and the Moslems will take us with bare hands. Dishonor to desert, and we will never separate. Yet let us bow to G.o.d's will. His favor is not with the Crusade. Let us cut our way down to the port, and escape as many as can."

"And so say I," called Duke Robert. "And I," came from Hugh of Vermandois. "And I," shouted many of the lesser barons. But Tancred, bravest of the brave, stood up with flas.h.i.+ng eyes. "I speak for myself. I reproach no man, seigneur or villain. But while sixty companions remain by me, of whatever degree, I will trust G.o.d, and keep my face toward His city!"

"There spoke a true lover of Christ," cried Adhemar, his honest eyes beaming; and G.o.dfrey's haggard face brightened a little. "You are a gallant knight, my Lord Prince," said he. "These others will think differently when they have slept on their words. Better starve here than return to France, if return we can. We have asked Kerbogha's terms--we have them. 'The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel,' as says Holy Writ. How can we return with all the paynim nations jeering at us, crying, 'See! See the boasted Frankish valor!' We can do no more to-day; let us meet again to-morrow."

"To-morrow we shall be yet hungrier," muttered Guy of Tarentum, as he went out at Longsword's side. "Except a miracle come of G.o.d, Kerbogha has us." "Except a miracle!" repeated Adhemar. Richard carried home the words. Had G.o.d turned away His face from His children? Were the brave days when the Red Sea swallowed Pharaoh's myriads, when four lepers delivered starving Samaria from the Syrian hosts but as _jongleurs'_ tales of things long gone by? He told Sebastian what had pa.s.sed among the chieftains, and Sebastian only answered with a wandering gaze toward heaven.

"These are the days of G.o.d's wrath! Now appears the host foretold in the Apocalypse--the four angels loosed from the river Euphrates, come forth with their army of hors.e.m.e.n, two hundred thousand, and for an hour, and a day, and a month, and a year, shall they slay the third part of mankind."

"Father," said Richard, "do you know what the princes say? 'Except a miracle, we are delivered to Kerbogha.' Are the days of G.o.d's mercy spent? Were the Jews more righteous than we, that they should be saved by wonders from heaven, and we perish like oxen? I speak not for my own sake--though the saints know it is hard to keep a stout heart over a nipping belly--but for my men, for the whole host. Pestilence is treading behind the famine. This day five thousand have died in Antioch--cursing the hour they took the cross and the G.o.d who led them forth. I say again: How can these things be--G.o.d sit silent in yonder blue heaven, and still be good?"

Sebastian brushed his bony hand across his face as though driving away a mist, and ran on wildly:--

"Kerbogha is the beast foretold in the beginning! The beast and the false prophet, which is Mohammed, have deceived those who have the mark of the beast; and all such with those that have wors.h.i.+pped his image shall share with the beast and the false prophet in the lake of fire, burning with brimstone."

"Yes, dear father," said Richard, simply; "but the vengeance of G.o.d is long delayed!"

Sebastian gave no answer. All that afternoon he went among the dying, who lay like dogs in the streets, holding up the crucifix, telling them of the martyrs' joys; that death by sickness and famine was no less a sacrifice to G.o.d than death by the sword.

"Fear not, beloved," were his words to those whose last speech was of home and longed-for faces, "you are going to a fair and pleasant country, very like dear France, only brighter and richer than France, if that may be. There, as far as you can see, is a plain of soft green gra.s.s, and the sky is always blue; and there is a lovely grove with whispering trees laden with fruit of gold; and the fountain of 'life and love' sparkling with a thousand jets, and from it flows a river broader and fairer than any in the South Country. Here all day long you will dance with the angels, clothed in bleaunts of red and green, and crowned with flowers as at a great tourney; and all your friends will come to you; there shall be love and no parting, health and no sickness; nor fear, nor war, nor labor, nor death; and G.o.d the Father will smile on you from His golden throne, and G.o.d the Son will be your dear companion."

So many a poor sufferer flickered out with a smile on his wan lips at Sebastian's words, while he thought he was catching visions of the heavenly country, though there was only before his dying eyes the memory of a sunny vineyard or green-bowered castle beside the stately Rhone or the circling Loire.

Thus Sebastian spent his day. But Richard heard him repeat many times--"A miracle! except we be saved by a miracle!" And toward evening the Norman saw his chaplain deep in talk with the half-witted priest, Peter Barthelmy, and another Provencal priest named Stephen.

Count Raymond sat at the end of the day in his tent before the castle, and facing him was Bishop Adhemar. There was no hope, no courage, left in the army at the close of that gloomy day. Bohemond had had to fire his followers' barracks to drive them forth to fight on the walls.

When the alarm trumpets sounded an attack, men only muttered, "Better die by the sword than by a month-long death of starving." Gloomy had been the dialogue, and at last the Count asked:--

"Dear father, have ma.s.ses been duly said, and prayers offered Our Lady that she will plead with Christ for His people?"

And Adhemar answered: "Prayer day and night. All night long I and the Bishop of Orange lay outstretched after the form of the cross, beseeching Our Lord. The cry rises to heaven unceasingly. But G.o.d remembers all our sins; there is no sign save of wrath."

And the good Bishop was stirred when he saw a tear on the bronzed cheek of the great Count of the South. "I must go among the men," said Raymond; "the saints know I can say little to hearten."

But he was halted by his worthy chaplain, Raymond of Agiles, now grave and consequential. "My Lord Count, and you, your Episcopal Grace,"

began he, importantly, "there has been a notable mercy vouchsafed this poor army,--a miracle,--a message sent down from very Heaven!"