CHAPTER XXV
HOW DUKE GODFREY SAVED THE DAY
The host lay before Nicæa many a weary day before the starved and despairing garrison declared for Emperor Alexius and the Franks saw the Greek standards floating from the battlements. Loud was the rage against this trick that robbed them of the plunder of so fair a city. "Back to Constantinople!" howled the men-at-arms and petty nobles. "The Greeks are schismatics and scarce better than Moslem!" But the judicious presents of Alexius silenced the cries of the chiefs, and they in turn controlled their people, though from that hour little love was wasted on the Emperor. On the twenty-fifth day of June the Army of the Cross struck its tents about Nicæa, and set out for the march across Phrygia, through the heart of the dominions of Kilidge Arslan.
Soon after starting the host divided; for water and forage would be none too plentiful, the guides said, in the plains and mountains before, and to keep together might mean ruin. So Duke Godfrey led away the larger half of the army with Raymond, Adhemar, and Hugh the Great; while the second corps followed Bohemond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy. Being himself Norman, Longsword went with this last division, although he would gladly have kept company with the Duke of Bouillon. He was ill pleased to see with how little order each host marched, and how scant was the effort to keep close enough each to the other for help in case of need. Still, for a day or two, all went well. They passed through a pleasant rolling country, with abundant grass and water. All the villages, to be sure, had been burned by the Turks, and scarce a peasant met them. But around them like an invisible net the Sultan's light-horsemen hovered, and now and then the long line of baggage mules and plodding infantry would be attacked, a few beasts hamstrung, a few footmen wounded, before the knights could charge out and chase the Seljouks over the hills. On the third day, however, the attacks grew more violent. Longsword had been sent back by Bohemond to cover the trailing rear-guard, where were the staggering sick, the defenceless jongleurs, and the women in heavy carriages. As the afternoon advanced, he sent a message to the Count of Chartres that unless he had speedy succor his St. Julien men could not hold back the thickening squadrons; and quick as the reënforcements came, there was a sturdy mêlée—lance to lance, sword to cimeter—before the Turks broke. When at last they were flying, Richard pushed the sure-footed Rollo up a hill where any horse saving he would have stumbled; and behold, from the hilltop Longsword could see a score of heavy dust clouds rising, north, south, east, west,—cavalry galloping. When he rode down he met Tancred himself.
"Fair lord," was his report, "the infidels surely plan to attack us in force to-morrow. If my eyes are good, there are thousands of Turkish horse around us. Kilidge Arslan must have called round him all his easternmost hordes, and intends battle. I advise that before nightfall a strong escort be sent to Duke Godfrey, bidding him hasten to our relief."
"By the Mass!" swore Tancred, his knightly honor touched. "Of all men, you, De St. Julien, should be the last to cry 'Rescue!' We are well able to scatter Kilidge Arslan's thousands, and Godfrey shall rob us of no glory."
So Richard held his peace, though for some strange reason his heart was not as gay as it should have been when about to engage in glorious battle with the infidel. He accompanied the rear as it toiled into the encampment, already plotted by the van. Longsword saw with anxiety that, though the camp was protected in the rear by a reedy marsh, and on one side by a shallow stream, no palisades were being raised, nor any other defences. The weary men set their tents as they might, lighted fires, feasted, and were asleep, heavy with the toilsome march. Mary Kurkuas stood at the tent door as was her wont, and greeted her husband.
"You ran more than your share of peril to-day. The fighting was hard. Ah! I was frightened."
"Ai!" cried Richard, taking off his heavy helm, "if I never come nearer death than to-day, like a stork I shall live to be a thousand. But there is a bandage on your wrist—what? blood?" and his face grew troubled.