The de Montfort Histories - The Dove and the Devil (13 page)

“If only Thibaut were leading this affair,” he said, calmer now that
some action to resolve the matter had been agreed. “The Count of Monferat may
be a good soldier and a patron of the arts, but he is no leader, even though he
is a cousin of the king. The Doge’s men have run circles around him. I think a
monkey could have negotiated a better settlement. I find it hard to believe
that he allowed us to be led into this trap and that the agreement did not take
into account that fewer of us might turn up. He always said he had no time for
the Doge, but he has played right into his hands. I am beginning to wonder what
is going on that is not immediately apparent to us. You cannot ever
underestimate the Doge. He’s far too wily, even at his age.”

By now Simon was feeling a good deal calmer than he had in the previous
half-hour and his face had resumed its normal colour. It took him only a short
time to choose some of his most reliable friends from the group gathered there,
and accompanied by them, he set off to demand an audience with that consummate
politician, the cunning Doge of Venice.

If Simon had been angry before he left, he was choleric when he
returned. Calling together the other leaders of the Crusade, he informed them
that the Doge had told him they would be kept on the island until they had paid
the original agreed sum. There was nothing they could do but accede to the sly
old man’s demands. They were stuck on an island with no boats. Food and fresh
water for themselves and their animals were in very short supply.

After a great deal of arguing amongst themselves—with Simon vowing
to take revenge on the old Doge—it was decided that if each knight paid
four marks plus four marks for each horse, each esquire paid two marks, and the
common soldiers each paid one mark, a compromise might be reached.
Disappointingly, even when the all this extra money was added together, it
still amounted to less than the agreed sum.

           
“What
are we to do?” Geoffrey de Joinville, Simon’s friend who had been one of the
first to take the cross back in Ecry (how long ago that seemed!), asked with an
air of despair.

“We will take him the money we have and see what transpires,” Simon
replied. “Powerful as he is, he will not wish to anger the Pope by keeping his
holy army prisoner on this island.”

The meeting with the Doge and his emissaries was as heated as a meeting
could be with a man who was nearly ninety and almost blind. There was no doubt,
however, that he was in full possession of the rest of his faculties and he
drove a hard bargain.

“You have imposed upon us very shamefully,” he told Simon and his
companions. “None of our merchants has made a voyage since our agreement. I
ordered them all to stay and help make ready the fleet. They have been waiting
ever since, for nearly a year and a half, and they have lost a great deal of
business! Therefore, you must pay us what we owe before you can leave the
island. We have kept our side of the bargain. It is not our fault that many of
your Crusaders have gone to other ports. And what’s more, no one shall bring
your men any food or drink until you clear your debt to us!”

Simon was beside himself with fury and contained his indignation only
when he felt Geoffrey’s cautioning hand on his shoulder. “Messire Doge, what do
you think the Holy Father is going to say when his army begins to die of hunger
and thirst?”

“Perhaps the Holy Father would like to contribute from his personal
coffers. I understand they are very full at the moment.” The old man could not
conceal the crafty look that passed across his face. There was a well known
rivalry, not to mention animosity, between the two men, each grudging any power
held by the other. No one could deny that the Doge was powerful; under his
guidance and rule, Venice had become one of the biggest trading ports in the
world.

Simon and his friends returned to the camp much chastened. Had they been
dogs, their tails would have been between their legs.

“What are we to do now?” The question hung in the air.

Finally one of the less senior knights spoke up. “Perhaps we could try
another collection. Someone may lend us some money,” he added hopefully.

The next collection, though, was a complete failure. Everyone had
already given what they could and the army was now dismally impoverished, with
scarcely enough left to support itself.

“I refuse to go back to that old rascal’s palace and beg again,” Simon
said. “Let him come here. There must be a solution to this matter. It is
reaching the realms of the ridiculous. Even the Doge must see that we cannot
give him what we do not have!”

When the Doge received the invitation to speak once more to the
assembled knights in an attempt to solve the financial impasse, he accepted
with more than his usual alacrity. He had begun to see that if he refused to
help this army of pilgrims and soldiers of Christ, the rest of the Christian
world would consider him to be less than reliable. Besides, he had another
agenda that wouldn’t become known to the leaders of the Crusade until later!

Accordingly, he and his retinue were rowed out to the camp where the
soldiers were billeted and it was finally agreed that the Crusaders should pay
the balance of what they owed out of the first conquests they would make in the
Holy Land. The soldiers were beside themselves with joy now that they could see
an end to their dilemma. Some of then even went as far as to fall at the feet
of the Doge to thank him.

What most of the army did not know (because it was kept secret) was that
the Doge had forced an agreement with the leaders of the Crusade to first
conquer the city of Zara. The fact that it was a Catholic city with a leader
who had taken the cross himself counted for nothing. The Doge’s supporters had
told the leaders it was a wicked city that had done much commercial damage to
the Venetians. The wily old man pointed out that it was already the month of
November and the Crusaders wouldn’t wish to cross the sea to the Holy Land at
that time of the year. Zara, just up the coast, was a rich prize that could be
taken easily. They would be able to winter in the city, provision themselves
very well and make themselves ready for the real Crusade that could begin the
following year.

This entire proposition made a great deal of sense to most of the
leaders, except Simon and his closest friends, who were horrified at the
thought of attacking a Christian city.

“It’s that damned Fulques de Neuilly again!” Simon fumed. “He has
persuaded Monferat and the Count of Flanders to attack Zara. He is supposed to
be on the side of the Christians. Even though he is the Pope’s Legate, he has
gone against us! We can’t in good conscience follow their lead. These people
are Christian. We came to fight the infidel, not Christians. Don’t they see
that they are being gulled by the Venetians? This is a political matter, not a
religious one! How can our leaders be so blind?”

Simon raged on. “The Abbot of Vaux has forbidden this attack in the name
of the Pope. I shudder to imagine what the Holy Father will say when he hears
of Fulques’ calumny. We are all bound to be excommunicated if we do as the Doge
wishes, and I cannot countenance that!”

Guy de Montfort, Simon’s younger brother, spoke up. “The Doge has
promised no one in Zara will be hurt if the city surrenders to us. I, for one,
would support this action. We are short of supplies and we cannot stay here on
this island over the winter. We must get provisions somehow, and this seems to
be an ideal opportunity. Surely this is a sensible course to follow!”

Simon glared at him. “I had not thought to hear a brother of mine speak
thus. You disgrace your name and our lineage, sir!” He turned to the others. “I
shall return to France as soon as is possible with any of you who wish to
accompany me. If we ride hard, we could be back by early next year. I will not
attack fellow Christians, nor will I take from them what is theirs, especially
at the request of someone like the vile Enrico Dandolo. He may be the Doge, but
that does not excuse him from behaving like a Christian!” With that Simon
turned his back on the company and stalked out into the night.

“Papa, what are you doing here?”

The voice of his elder son broke into his thoughts. Simon had not
realised that he had walked as far as the quarters of the younger squires and
pages, so deep had he been in contemplation. He was severely troubled by the
events that had taken place. The more he thought about them, the more he could
feel another rising tide of anger against the machinations of the Venetians.
The Crusaders and their leaders had been led like lambs to the slaughter in
agreeing to do something as abhorrent as attacking fellow Christians. He would
not, could not, be a party to such things. The Holy Crusade, which he had lived
and dreamed about for nearly three years, was about to disappear into thin air.
The wrench he felt that all his plans had come to nought, was almost more than
he could bear.

“We are for home, Amaury. What do you think of that?”

 
Amaury looked puzzled.
“But, Papa, you haven’t been to the Holy Land yet. When are you going?”

“We are not going. It is a difficult matter to explain, but you may rest
assured we will be back in France, at home,
 
and you will see your maman by the spring of next year!”
“But I thought we were to remain here while you went off to fight.” Amaury’s
voice rose to a squeak. At nearly twelve, his tone could range from a deep bass
to a surprising soprano.

“There has been a change in our plans and some of us have found it
necessary to return home. Besides, I am sure your maman will be longing to see
you again. She won’t recognize you; you have grown so much and become almost a
man!” He gave Amaury a friendly slap on the back, resisting the impulse to hug
his son. Any outward show of affection might cause Amaury to become the butt of
ridicule to the other pages. His son would clearly be a tall man; even now his
strength was gaining some notoriety amongst the other boys and young men.
 

Amaury found it hard to contain his dismay. He had secretly hoped to be
taken on the journey to the Holy Land. He knew his mother had expected him to
stay in Venice, but he had worked hard on his fighting skills, nursing the hope
that his father would be so impressed he would allow him to go. But, alas, it
was not to be. It seemed that fate had conspired against him to ensure his
mother’s wishes were carried out.

It was a tired and dispirited group that set out from Venice and began to
wind its way overland along the southern coast of France en route to the Ile de
France where the de Montfort estate lay. The bulk of those returning to their
own estates had gone their own ways, but Simon had decided he would return by a
more southerly route, enabling him to stay on the estate of one of his friends,
the Count de Comminges. They had been brothers-in-arms on previous occasions.
Simon was looking forward to seeing one of his jousting partners once more, and
relating the story of the perfidious Doge and those French nobles who had done
the old man’s bidding and were preparing to attack a Christian city.

His heart gladdened at the thought of seeing Alicia again. He had sent
messengers to his own estates, and it had been arranged that Alicia would join
him in the south with the other children. He had not yet told Amaury that he
was soon to see his mother and younger sister and brother. He wondered what his
wife would say when she saw her almost grown-up son for the first time in many
months.

As the journey progressed, everyone’s spirits began to rise. Who could
fail to feel happy in the glorious sun of Occitania? Amaury himself was
becoming absolutely charmed by the colour and vitality of the area where the
language of Oc was spoken. He found the language difficult to understand since
it bore not a great deal of relation to his own language. But he still loved to
listen to the songs of the troubadours, plaintiff with their airs of unrequited
love. The language in which the songs were sung lent itself charmingly to the
practice of courtly love which was so popular in the south of the country.

Simon himself had had some experience with troubadours. Marie, Countess
of Champagne, the mother of his late friend Thibaut, was the daughter of
Eleanor of Aquitaine, Queen of England. Brought up in the South of France in
the court of her grandfather, a noted troubadour himself, Eleanor had imported
many of her musicians to her court in the north. While staying at Ecry, where
the last tournament in which he had taken part had been held, Simon, and indeed
all the company present, had listened to the music of some of the most famous
musicians in the whole of France. Although many of the clever performers were
of noble rank, others travelled from castle to castle, usually in pairs, often
carrying news as well as bringing entertainment. Their songs extolled the
virtue of chastity and a pure life. While singing about a refined love, they
praised the virtues of women, something of which the Church did not approve. Passion
in love was absolutely forbidden and women were strictly enjoined to know their
place in society.

Riding along on his palfrey, Amaury cared not a whit about what the
Church thought about troubadours. He loved their music, and although he found
the language difficult, he was beginning to pick up words in Occitan. He made a
point of talking to locals along the way and each night hung around whatever
musicians had joined the company. He would have loved to join in and sing some
of the music but had to be content to listen. The language barrier was
difficult enough to overcome, but even worse was the continual change in his
voice from soprano to bass.