The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [47]
“There,” said Louis, “we should be amongst our own. Raymond is the Queen’s uncle. He could not refuse to help us. Yes, we must make our way as best we can to Antioch.”
There followed one of the most wretched periods of my life. The hazardous journey had begun and when we set out, in spite of all that had happened, not one of us had any notion of what we should have to endure.
The weather was cruel. There was torrential rain which flooded the rivers. Many of our tents were washed away—as were our horses and even some of our men. There was mud everywhere. We were cold and hungry. The men were growing more and more disillusioned, and there was murmuring among them. Surely, if they were in truth following God’s will, He would not allow this to happen to us. There were long terrifying days when we were harassed by Turkish snipers. One never knew when an arrow would come whizzing one’s way. These turbaned barbarians would suddenly dart out on fast ponies, shooting as they rode. One could bear that as long as they kept their distance. The horrifying moments were when they descended on us, their yataghans—swords with a single-edged blade—flashing in their hands, and to know that there was murder in their hearts and that our men were exhausted, angry and disillusioned.
Every day when I awoke after a fitful and uncomfortable sleep, I would ask myself: Shall I live until this day is out? Is this my last?
I said to Louis: “We should have listened to Suger. He was right. We should never have come.”
“It was God’s will,” said Louis.
“So said Bernard. But he was wise enough not to accompany us.”
“He believed it was not his place to do so. He could serve God better where he was.”
“He could certainly serve Him more comfortably. So could we all.”
Louis did not like such comments. After all, Bernard was reckoned to be a saint and very close to God. I did not share his reverence. All I could think of was that we should have listened to Suger.
Gone were my beautiful garments—no doubt adorning some harem woman. All my beautiful jewels . . . gone. And here I was, unkempt, with nothing with which to beautify myself. If the Infidel had allowed me to keep my gowns, I felt I could have borne anything else. Now I was getting desperate. I wanted to go home.
What was the use of wishing that? We were a long way from home and from Jerusalem and we had no alternative but to continue with the journey.
The horror of those days lives with me still—a nightmare from which it is impossible to escape. I had never imagined I could be in such surroundings. What were we doing here? I would cry to Louis and myself: Why did we ever embark on this fools’ mission?
Louis could only say that it was God’s will, and if we should die in His service we had the comfort of knowing we should go straight to Heaven. I wished I had his faith.
Meanwhile we had to go on; we had to live through those days of wretchedness and fear. There were occasions when I almost hoped that a Turkish arrow would provide me with a way out of this torment.
There was not enough fodder for the horses; many of them died. We lived on their flesh. I hated the smell of roasting meat when we lighted our campfires. We baked bread in the ashes of those fires—and somehow we managed to survive.
If we could reach Pamphilia, we might find shelter and provisions and perhaps guides to take us to Antioch.
Antioch. I said it over and over again to myself. If only I could see my uncle Raymond, I was sure everything would be well.
So the days passed, never without a fear that the enemy would destroy us. We labored on until, exhausted beyond description, we saw in the distance the walls of Satalia, a little port in Pamphilia.
A shout of joy went up from every throat. Never could any traveler who had been almost without hope have felt such overpowering relief.
We spurred on our tired horses—those of us who had them still—and even the animals seemed to have acquired fresh vitality. The long