Michael scales the walls

Michael the Merciless

Even though the Latins joined us, we still didn't have the manpower nor the resources to encircle the whole city. We merely harassed their caravans and disrupted their supply. Months passed but the city did not bend and break to our will. The Muslims remained stubborn.

Despite our God-given success, fear now stalked our ranks. As did hunger, thirst and disease. We’re little more than shadows of the men who left Normandy three years earlier.

A huge Muslim army from Mosul was on its way to relieve Antioch. In fact, rumour even had it the relief **** was less than two days march from here. Rested and well equipt, the Muslims would surely trample us into this dusty earth.

Our hearts might burn with righteous flames, but we were only a fraction of our former selves. We lacked everything one could think of for a siege, horses, siege machinery and men. But as I said, we did have hope… we had Bohemond.

A man so tall and powerful some thought Bohemond a giant. So brave, others thought him mad. But those who really knew Bohemond thought of him as an astute individual and a natural leader of men.

A god amongst men.

~

As the sun set Bohemond gathered the raiding party for one final prayer. Le Puy, the battling bishop, gave us God’s blessings. “For the Cross,” he confidently stated. We had taken the oath, given our all. Many, too many to remember, had already given their last breath for the Cross. Our graves already dug just case tonight would be our last.

I watched wistfully, as the sun dipped below the red hills… wondering if I’d ever see it rise.

~

We left the safety of the line and delved into the smothering darkness. Stealthily, we crept through the shadows of the dead and on towards the mammoth walls of Antioch. The faint torch-glow above the parapets gave us our bearings which would lead us to the humongous double breasted tower we called the Two Sisters.

Silence was strictly observed as if the order had come from the lips of God. Then again, if almost had done, Bohemond of Taranto was a man we would follow into the gates of hell. Somehow Bohemond, the cunning fox he is, had a man on the inside of the walls. A tower commander called Firouz. Bohemond didn’t know why Firouz wanted to betray his city, and normally wouldn’t trust such a man without better understanding his motives. But we were **** and time was against us. We had to view our luck as a miracle. One of many we had had over recent months

After what felt like an hour of crawling and creeping through the stench, we finally reached the tower without incident. We quickly lined up pressing our soot- darkened chain-mail against to cold stone of the walls. We muttered silent prayers while waiting until the crescent moon reached it’s zenith. That would be our signal.

As the moon reached midnight, we raised the siege ladder… the **** began.

Bohemond, was the first to climb the ladder. I followed on his heels. Every rung of the ladder felt like my ascent to heaven. Would we be met with blades and flame, or welcomed by Firouz..? Only God could answer that.

~

I followed Bohemond over the battlements and we were met by Firouz and two guards. All three immediately raised their hands then dropped to their knees. I secured the ladder and waited for three more more Franks to climb up onto the battlements. Then I drew my dagger. As agreed, Forouz was spared, but no clemency would be given to the guards. In perfect harmony with the Prince, we covered the mouths of the guards and slit their throats. We held them tight until their life had slipped away, before dropping them like a sacks of dung.

The raiding party then went about their work, silently killing the rest of guards as they slept, only stopping when the tower was secured.

The plan was going well. So far at least.

Bohemond marched Firouz down the stone staircase to open the lower butt-door. Once the door was open, the Prince kicked the treacherous rat over the threshold and into the night. He must have trampled by a column of Franks as they rushed the steps.

At the sound of the bugle, a huge cry of “God Wills It,” broke the night.

The battle had begun.

~

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