Authors: Stewart Binns
For Count Raymond, there were at least two heresies in Sweyn’s terse comment. His temper rose and his voice ascended to a yet higher pitch.
‘Prince Edgar, I hear that you let your knights dally with infidels; they would be better off learning manners.’
‘Forgive my young friend, my Lord Count, he was married to a beautiful Muslim girl, who was killed in tragic circumstances.’
‘Pity it was not by my hand; there are no beautiful Muslim girls, only faithless bitches.’
Edwin had grabbed Sweyn before he could make any move towards the Count, and he and Adela started to
drag him up the spiral stairs of the crypt. I tried to bring Raymond’s homily to an end.
‘We all need rest … to our beds, Count Raymond –’
But before I could finish, the Count bellowed.
‘That young knight is not welcome in my city, neither is the she-male who cavorts with Arabs.’
Robert and I helped get Sweyn away before he could do any more damage. We hurried to our camp just outside the city.
At that point, I realized that Estrith and Bertrand had not joined us in the crypt, preferring to seek another form of entertainment rather than suffer Count Raymond’s oration on Christianity.
Duke Robert went to see Count Raymond early the next morning. He made our excuses and we were on the move in an easterly direction by early afternoon. Edwin stayed behind to finalize the sale of St Cirq Lapopie, a task he concluded with little difficulty. We had decided to avoid any further risk of infection with the putrid fever by following the Tarn as far as Florac, traversing the Massif and then heading north along the Valley of the Rhône at Montélimar.
As soon as we had settled into a comfortable pace, I took the opportunity to make a sensitive but necessary enquiry about Estrith’s nocturnal adventure the night before.
I took it as a mark of our friendship that Estrith was able to speak frankly to me.
‘It came as a bit of a shock to hear the Count denouncing the English from his bedchamber; we were in the next
chamber, and Bertrand was terrified of him. He had to smuggle me out before his father discovered us. I heard all the details from Adela this morning. He’s a dangerous man.’
‘So, now you’ve bedded a Count; the social standing of your conquests is improving.’
‘As I feared, you don’t approve. You know I can’t resist a sturdily constructed roof – and Bertrand’s a well-put-together structure with strong timbers and a king-post that bears a good load under stress.’
Estrith’s frank architectural analogy made me smile, but I was concerned about her.
‘Estrith, be serious … it’s not that I don’t approve, but I don’t want you to come to any harm. You’ve only just met Bertrand – he could be as dangerous as his father, who’s not only mad, he’s also delusional.’
‘I’m sorry, Edgar, we’ve always been honest with one another. You’re right. It was a bit foolish, but he’s a handsome young brute and … we had had too much wine. In my heart, I cannot believe what we did was wrong. But thank you, I will be more careful.’
I was still concerned about Estrith’s evident fondness for Bertrand; the father’s behaviour made me very wary of the son. Besides which, deep down, I was a little jealous of the young man.
By the time we returned to Normandy, the winter of 1094 beckoned and we decided to stay in Rouen until early the next year. It was a frustrating time for all of us. Although we were privileged to be under the benign eye of Duke Robert, none of us was any nearer to discovering our destiny.
Edwin became older and wiser, Sweyn and Adela honed their fighting skills relentlessly, to the point where it did not seem possible for them to get any better, and I continued to admire Estrith from afar.
Sweyn’s latest accolade was to become the victor ludo-rum in Rouen’s annual test of knightly skills and be all but unbeatable in the joust, while Adela persuaded more and more men to adopt the Mos Militum – so much so that it started to be called ‘Adela’s Code’.
Meanwhile, I was fascinated by Estrith’s new project. She had been sketching it for days and her outline was immediately recognizable, even to a layman, as the timber frame for the roof of a large building. She showed it to me with the glee of a child with a new toy.
‘It’s a cat’s cradle in wood in three ascending layers, closing at the apex, with the whole structure supported by the twenty-four “feet” made of timber. At each of the two tiers above the bottom level there are also twenty-four smaller feet, each one throwing the structure further into the void.’
Estrith explained that not only was the geometry of the roof vital, the precise construction of the joints was also essential to the strength of the structure.
‘It is not just a matter of mortising and tenoning them, it is a matter of the angle at which you cut them! The twenty-four supports, twelve on each side, act like the head of a mason’s hammer, pulling the weight downwards through the wall rather than outwards against it. They are the key to a more elegant roof and much higher walls. I’ve decided to call them “hammer beams”, each of which will sit on a stone corbel projecting from the top of the wall
of the building. The roof won’t need any other support.’
I could see the main point: the twelve feet on either side of the structure did not have cross-beams connecting them to the twelve feet on the other side – a feature of all rectangular roofs I had ever seen. As far as I knew, only domed roofs could be constructed without connecting beams, so I remained sceptical.
‘How can it work? How will it take the weight of the laths for the thatch, and the thatch itself?’
‘Oh no, this is not for a thatched roof – it is for a lead or tiled roof, or even a stone one.’
‘Surely not, it will collapse under the weight.’
‘It will not!’
Estrith was furious that I should doubt her.
‘I have been careful in my calculations; it is simply a matter of arithmetic. I now need someone to build one. To prove it to you!’
After much debate through the spring of 1095, we had decided to return to Sicily. Count Roger had asked Robert for help to launch a campaign to add Malta to his fiefdom, and we all relished the thought of returning to the Mediterranean and renewing our friendship with him.
However, events elsewhere were destined to take us in another direction.
For months, much of the idle talk among knights had been dominated by Raymond of Toulouse’s calls for an end to Muslim rule in the Holy Land. Then, in March of 1095, Pope Urban II, a clever and ambitious pontiff, was holding an ecclesiastical council in Piacenza in northern Italy when a lightning bolt struck from out of the blue.
The Emperor of Byzantium, Alexius I, sent an emissary to the Pope asking for help in his fight against the Turks, his troublesome neighbours in Anatolia. Although the Turks were far from being the lords of Jerusalem, they were Muslims; Raymond of Toulouse and many others used this to promote a wave of anti-Islamic sentiment. The Pope replied with a call to arms, asking Christians everywhere to promise, by taking an oath, ‘to aid the Emperor most faithfully against the pagans’.
What started as a typical request for military support to overcome an opponent, issued by the leader of one version of Christianity to another, escalated like wildfire. Oaths were taken everywhere, and thousands enlisted to become ‘Soldiers of Christ’ – young and old, men and women, clerics and laypeople, soldiers and civilians.
With Raymond and Bertrand urging him on, the Pope, having unleashed the beast, tried to harness its power, but it was already too potent for any one man to control. Many men of violence convinced themselves that they could be redeemed by more acts of violence, but this time perpetrated against those who defiled God. Even poor people thought that salvation would follow from joining the cause to cleanse the Sacred Places.
We kept our counsel, not wanting to commit to a campaign that seemed dubious at best, while realizing that a major test for all of us was unfolding.
In November 1095, we travelled to Clermont in the Auvergne to hear the Pope address the great and good of Normandy, France and Aquitaine. His speech added fuel to the bellicose mood of an audience that already had the fire of vengeance in its belly.
‘Your brethren who live in the East are in urgent need of your help, and you must hasten to give them the aid which has often been promised them. For, as most of you have heard, the Turks and Arabs have attacked them. They have occupied more and more of the lands belonging to those Christians; they have killed and captured many, and have destroyed their churches and devastated their empire. On this account I, in the name of the Lord, beseech you as Christ’s heralds to publish this everywhere and to persuade all people of whatever rank – foot soldiers and knights, poor and rich – to carry aid promptly to those Christians and to destroy that vile race from the lands of our friends.’
He went on to describe in appalling detail the atrocities committed by the Turks and Arabs against Christians – rape, murder, torture, mutilations – such that by the time he had finished even noble archbishops were baying for blood. The Pope called for an ‘armed pilgrimage’ a ‘crusade’ to ‘free Christians from the brutal oppression of heathens’.
The holy war that Themistius had predicted had begun.
By the time we returned to Rouen, the five of us had made a decision about our future.
Duke Robert asked to see us; he was anxious.
‘Do you believe all these stories about the terrible crimes committed by the Muslims?’
I thought this was an ideal opportunity for Sweyn to give his opinion.
‘Robert, would you let Sweyn speak? As you know, he loved a Muslim woman very much and, had a vengeful
father not interfered, she would have borne him a child.’
‘Of course, Sweyn, speak your mind.’
‘My Lord, Mahnoor’s father was a vile and cruel man, but so are many in Christendom. On the other hand, she was the most gentle, beautiful creature who ever walked this earth. All of us became very fond of the Muslims of Sicily and their code of conduct; we live by it to this day. I have no doubt that the Pope’s words are chosen in order to rouse his audience, and that Count Raymond is at the back of it.’
Adela then asked for permission to speak.
‘Sire, it is said among the knights that the Pope wants to unite all Christians under his own sovereignty. He was born into a noble French family and his lofty ambitions are no secret. This is the campaign of a pope who wants to be pontiff in Constantinople as well as in Rome, and behind him stands a man we all know to be driven by an insane hatred.’
The Duke thought for a while before asking me for my view.
‘Edgar, I am being asked to go on this Crusade and lead the Norman contingent. Sovereign lords from all over Europe are being asked to contribute to a huge army. The Pope wants 40,000 men, fully armed and provisioned for a campaign lasting several years. What do you think?’
‘If this comes to pass, it is clear that the world will never be the same again. Everyone must make a personal decision. We have been having our own discussions and have come to a view about how to proceed. We are happy to share it with you.’
‘I would like that.’
‘Estrith will explain on our behalf; she thought of most of the detail.’
Estrith took a deep breath before describing our idea.
‘My Lord, as you know, my father and his followers took a pledge at Ely – the Oath of the Brotherhood of St Etheldreda. Edwin, Sweyn, Adela and I all took the oath; Edgar lent his support from his exile in Scotland. Although it was taken in the context of our resistance to your father, the vow was a cry for liberty and justice for all men everywhere. Its words were fashioned by my father and were very clear and precise: “On the holy remains of the martyr, St Etheldreda, and in the sight of God, I swear to assert the rights of all Englishmen to live in peace and justice. By wearing this amulet of the ancients, I attest to my belief in truth and wisdom. By this salute, I enter the Brotherhood of St Etheldreda and do solemnly commit my life to it and its noble cause. So help me God.”
‘In the light of what is happening throughout Europe, and the threat of wanton killing on a scale never seen before, we have decided to form a new brotherhood and to take a new oath.’
‘Is it an oath for knights and princes? Or may a duke bow his head to a principle?’
Not deterred by Robert’s sarcasm, Estrith responded pithily. ‘Everyone who takes an oath in the eyes of God takes it as an equal.’
‘Well said, Estrith. Tell me the words of the oath, so that I might practise.’
‘Sire, do you mean you would like to join our brotherhood?’
‘Indeed! I am sure it is a very worthy cause.’
‘We want to go back to Ely to swear the oath on the tomb of its patron saint, St Etheldreda, where the original oath was sworn. We have chosen a name. My father’s amulet, the Talisman of Truth, disappeared after Ely. It could have been lost in the mayhem, or it could still be around his neck – either a living neck, or one at peace in his grave. The Talisman is claimed by many people to have mystical powers; some say it’s a pagan charm, others say it’s a Christian relic which symbolizes Christ delivering us from evil. It contains an image of the Devil and his familiars, trapped by a splash of the blood of Christ.’
‘I have heard many stories about the amulet; I would like to see it one day.’
‘Perhaps you will. Sweyn and Adela are certain my father is still alive and still carries the Talisman with him.’
‘How old would he be now?’
‘He would be in his sixtieth year, my Lord.’
‘Then it is possible.’
‘Sire, because this Crusade is in Christ’s name, we will call ourselves the Brethren of the Blood of the Talisman, but our name, our oath and our bond as brethren will be known only to us.’
‘And the words of the oath?’
‘Sire, ours is a brotherhood of equals and the words are our secret.’
‘So, am I permitted to enter your brotherhood, or not?’
I intervened to help make our position clear.
‘What Estrith means is that, as members of the Brethren
of the Blood, we carry no titles and all are equal. We will be honoured to count you among our number, but we will no longer be in your service and we will not owe you fealty as our lord.’