The de Montfort Histories - The Dove and the Devil (12 page)

Slowly he withdrew the small sword he always carried so proudly. His
small palfrey sidestepped nervously. She, too, recognised the danger she was
in. With a loud squeal, the boar hurled himself towards Amaury. Bravely, the
young boy tried to turn his horse to meet the charge of the huge beast. As he
bent down to stab the animal between its eyes, he knew he had only one chance.
The boar, however, seemed intent on attacking the horse and buried its tusks
into the animal’s side. The palfrey screamed in agony as she rolled over,
trying to dislodge the tusks. Blood began to spurt from her side.

Amaury seized his chance and drove the small weapon into the space
between the boar’s eyes. As it rolled away from him, the boy could smell the
animal’s foetid breath. He shuddered as he watched the great beast die. With
legs shaking he turned finally to his little mare, manfully trying to stop the
tears which rolled down his face. Her wounds were huge and she was losing blood
at a rapid rate. Amaury knew she was doomed and that it was his fault.

The sound of hounds crashing through the undergrowth made him look up to
see his father riding towards him as though the devil himself were after him.
Simon threw himself from his horse and grabbed hold of Amaury. “Are you
injured? Are you hurt?”

Amaury shook his head mutely and pointed to the palfrey that lay
bleeding. Simon motioned to one of his men, who swiftly drove his sword through
the poor beast’s eye, putting it out of its misery. The rest of the hunt had
ridden up by now and they crowded around Amaury, congratulating him on his
skill. Amaury felt anything but proud; his disobedience had been responsible
for the death of his horse. He recoiled from the congratulatory slaps on the
back and did not wish to see the butchering of the beast he had killed. He knew
he wouldn’t eat any of it later on, either.

On the ride back to where they would spend the night, Simon praised
Amaury for his bravery and told him there were few eight-year-olds who had
lived to tell the tale of such disobedience. It was true he had faced the
danger bravely, but it was also true that he had put himself in grave danger.
For this Simon would punish him with a beating for although Amaury had
developed the notion that he knew better than his elders, he still had a great
deal to learn. Disobedience could well cost a life; if not his own, perhaps
that of a companion.

Amaury withstood his beating stoically, knowing full well he deserved
every stroke. The thought that he had let his father down caused him more
distress than the flogging itself. He was sent to bed early and so did not hear
the pride in his father’s voice later that evening when the tale was recounted
to their host over dinner. It had been no small feat for a boy to stand up to
an animal that far outweighed him. Simon’s main concern was what Alicia would
say when she heard about the affair. There would be no hiding it from her
because the whole business would be the talk of the estate. It would raise anew
the question of Amaury’s trip to Venice.

It took several days to get to Thibaut and discover that the envoys had
not yet returned from Venice. The negotiations had been bogged down under
several disagreements, but Thibaut had high hopes that all would be arranged by
the winter. Simon was none too pleased and made no bones about the fact. He
most certainly did not want to set out during the worst weather of the year,
and knew it would now be the following year before they could begin.

Thibaut had greeted them expansively, all the more so because his young
wife had just been brought to bed of a new baby girl. “Come and see Blanche and
the baby.” He was justly proud since this was his first child.

“We are to have another soon,” Simon said. “Alicia hopes for a girl this
time. We thought I would not be here for the birth, but it looks now as though
I will be. She’s to be brought to bed in Advent, so God willing, there will be
another de Montfort present at this year’s Christmas celebrations.” He
hurriedly crossed himself. Although he could not bear the thought of losing
Alicia, his bravery extended only to the battlefield and he wished no part of
the actual birthing. As he had done in the past, he would arrange a day or
two’s hunting so as to be near enough but not too near!

 
          
“Well,
there won’t be any point in leaving until next spring, now,” Thibaut said.
“We’ll travel much faster if the weather is good. There’s nothing worse than an
army on the march in the pouring rain. It lowers the men’s morale to be wet all
the time.”
 

Simon fervently agreed with him, despite being anxious to get the whole
thing underway. Always ready to do battle, he was impatient when obstacles
stood in his way.

“I have heard from Villehardouin and the other five we sent,” Thibaut
continued. “They are haggling over the cost, which, as it stands, will be
eighty five thousand marks for the whole thirty thousand of us if we all arrive
in Venice. That’s four marks per horse and two marks per man. They have offered
us fifty armed galleys because they love God, they say, but we have to give them
a half of every conquest of land we make and a half of any booty we take. The
price is steep, but they have us in an arm lock. No other port is able to
supply us at any cost and therefore I think we must accept the terms. I have
sent messengers to all who will accompany me to get their agreement. I have
your consent, I take it?” Thibaut looked at Simon, who nodded on behalf of
himself and his men. “Good. Then we only have to wait for the agreement of the
others, which shouldn’t be too many more weeks. In the meantime, we can hunt
and sharpen the men’s skills to keep them up to standard.”

Simon did his best not to look aggrieved, but the thought of another six
months of inactivity did not sit well with him. He knew one person would be
content—Alicia would be delighted that he would be there for the birth of
their third child. She would also be happy at the thought of keeping Amaury at
home a while longer; she need not worry about him while she was giving birth,
something she had confessed she would be dreading.

Although most of the Crusaders, the knights at least, would be driven by
deep religious convictions, it must be said that there were often ulterior
motives that drove them to risk life and limb, not the least of which was the
prospect of the land they could capture and the potential of monetary gain.
This was not as mercenary an objective as may be thought at first, because it
cost a great deal to mount a Crusade. For this reason, precise lists were made
of all who left on the journey so that widows and orphans could be suitably
taken care of should husbands and fathers not return. Younger sons, who could
not expect to inherit much in the way of estates, often went to seek their
fortunes. Simon and his friends had no real need to take the cross for this purpose.
Although they were happy to accept what gains could be made, they were rich
enough to bear the cost of such an undertaking and, indeed, had not much desire
at this time to extend their domains abroad.

While on a Crusade, the participants were under a plenary indulgence for
all sins that they committed and might commit. This gave many of the Crusaders
the freedom to rape and pillage as they thought fit with no regard for the
humanity they destroyed. Simon had already warned his followers that although
the Pope had already forgiven them their sins before they committed them, he
would not be so forgiving. He expected all his knights to treat their captives
in the same courteous manner as they would the people on their own estates.

A little girl, Pernel de Montfort, was born in the last week of Advent.
There was a great deal of rejoicing on the de Montfort estates. Unlike many of
the nobility, they welcomed girls into their family as well as boys. They were
well aware that a judicious marriage could enlarge their estates, and girls
were often married to close relatives to preserve and enlarge a domain.

Pernel, named after Simon’s aunt, would be baptised in the chapel of the
castle. The godparents were illustrious—one of them was Thibaut, and
another the daughter of the King of France. Thibaut himself was the premier
ranking nobleman in the area. Although still young, he was related to much of
Europe’s royalty and was stupendously powerful. It was a coup of sorts to have
him stand as godfather to the little girl.

The organisation for the ceremony and the feasting afterwards were well
in hand. With such distinguished guests, it would be a huge and costly event,
but nothing could daunt Simon’s spirits. Word had come that the envoys to
Venice had finally made an agreement with the Doge, the leader of the
Venetians, for the supply of all the ships. It only remained for the ceremony
of baptism to take place, and within a few weeks the army would muster and
begin the overland journey to the Italian port.

All the fine plans went for nought, however, as the next messenger to
the castle at Montfort brought with him a bombshell. Thibaut was dead at the
age of twenty-four, taken by the dreaded disease typhoid. It was rampant in his
palace; several of his retainers had also been smitten. Thankfully, Thibaut’s
wife, heavily pregnant her second child, and her small daughter, had been
spared. The palace in Troyes where he had died was now in full mourning with
Blanche ready to give birth at any moment.

Before he had succumbed to the disease, Thibaut on his deathbed had
asked his friend Renard of Dampierre and Villehardouin, his marshal newly
returned from Venice, to take up his vow to go on the Crusade, which was now
without a leader. Several nobles were asked to take the lead, but even
Thibaut’s cousin refused and it fell to an Italian, The Count of Monferat, to
take the reins. It was all done in a great hurry, as the Crusade looked set to
die before it could begin. Indeed, no one could blame Simon for thinking that
the Crusade was cursed from the beginning. He would now have to choose someone
else’s banner under which to travel!
 
All the delays the Doge of Venice and his machinations caused by raising
the costs of carrying the soldiers to the Holy Land seemed unimportant now. The
last thing anyone had expected was that Thibaut would be struck down by a
mortal illness at his young age.

Time was passing quickly; it was already May, and Simon could foresee
yet another winter of discontent looming in the foreground. They had already
cancelled the extensive arrangements for baby Pernel’s baptism, and a small
private christening was held instead. So it was that a few days later on a fine
morning towards the end of May, Simon and his men, together with Amaury,
finally rode out from Montfort, heading for the port of Venice.
    

Chapter Eight

Venice

1202 – 1203 AD

The Crusaders

Venice was a fiasco, and Simon de Montfort was furious, to say the
least.

“Where is this Doge?” he shouted while striding up and down the hall
where he was billeted with some of his men. To hear Simon de Montfort in a
temper was a frightening thing!

“I would speak with him myself!” he railed, looking about him, his face
a scarlet mask of rage. “What right has he to keep us locked up here on this
island? We have been here too long already. How long does he expect us to cool
our heels?”
 

The knights who gathered around him looked troubled. “My lord,” one of
them said, “the Doge demands payment for the transport of the army, as we
agreed last year. He has provided the ships and transports for the number of
men and horses he was told we would bring. We thought there would be at least
thirty thousand of us, but there are scarcely twenty thousand here. Some have
gone to other ports and others have just not come. Perhaps it would be politic
to confront His Excellency ourselves.”

Simon didn’t appear to have heard him and continued to fume, his face
contorted with anger. “Where is this old man? What scheme is this? Why is he
hiding from us? We must see him and ask that he release us from this…this
hellhole! I have said this whole damned business has been cursed from its
start!”

His description of the island of St. Nicholas was apt. With its
population swollen by a very discontented army, it was as terrible a set of
surroundings as ever any army had endured, and they had been languishing there
for nearly a year.

“My men are suffering and losing the will to fight. They have far
exceeded their duty to the Holy Father and could not be blamed if they all went
home, though that would be difficult. Half of them are hungry, and their horses
deteriorate daily.”

One of the bolder knights stepped forward. Very few wished to draw
attention to themselves while Simon was in this frame of mind. “I will go, my
lord. Perhaps if we go as a group he will see our strength of feeling.”

“I will go myself and see what the old robber is about! You may
accompany me.” He surveyed the other men. “I need four more of you. You are
right; a delegation will look more impressive than a single messenger.” Wearier
than he cared to admit, he rubbed his eyes. He had spent many sleepless nights
thinking about their plight, incarcerated as they were on this small island
adjacent to Venice.