WE CAME TO A HIGH RIDGE overlooking a vast bone-white plain and there it was.

Antioch .

A massive walled fortress, seemingly built into a solid mound of rock. Larger and more formidable than any castle I had ever seen back home.

The sight sent a chill shooting through my bones.

It was built on a sharp rise. Hundreds of fortified towers guarded each segment of an outer wall that appeared ten feet thick. We had no siege engines to break such walls, no ladders that could even scale their height. It seemed impregnable.

Knights took off their helmets and surveyed the city in awe. I know the same sobering thought pounded through each of our minds. We had to take this place.

“I don’t see any Christians chained to the walls.” Robert squinted into the sun, sounding almost disappointed.

“If it’s martyrs you’re looking for,” I promised grimly, “don’t worry, you’ll have your pick.”

One by one, we continued along the ridge and down the narrow trail. There was a feeling that the worst was over. That whatever God had in store for us, surely the coming battles could test us no more than what we had already faced. The talk, again, was of treasure and glory.

[44] Stumbling on a ledge, I noticed a glimmer coming from under a rock. I bent down to pick up the shiny object and could not believe it.

It was a scabbard, for some kind of dagger. Very old, I was sure. It looked like bronze, with some inlaid writing that I could not understand.

“What is it?” Robert asked.

“I don’t know.” I wished Nico were here. I knew he would be able to interpret it. “Maybe the language of the Jews… God, it looks old.”

“Hugh’s rich,” Robert shouted. “My friend is rich! Rich, I say!”

“Quiet,” a soldier hushed him. “If one of our illustrious leaders hears you, you won’t have your treasure for long.”

I placed the scabbard in my pouch, which was starting to fill up. I felt like a man who had just claimed the richest dowry. I couldn’t wait to show it to Sophie! Back home, a prize like this could buy us food for a winter.

I couldn’t believe my good luck.

“Up here, the relics fall out of trees,” Mouse grumbled from behind, “if there were any fucking trees.”

The trail we walked was flat and manageable. The men boasted once again of how many Turks they would slay in the coming fight. After my discovery, thoughts of treasure and spoils seemed alive and real. Maybe I would be rich.

Suddenly, up ahead, the column came to a halt. Then-eerie silence.

As far as the eye could see, the trail ahead was lined with large white rocks, spaced at intervals equal to a man’s arm span. Each rock was painted with a bright red cross.

“The bastards are welcoming us,” someone said. Mocking us was more like it. The rows of red crosses sent a shiver right through me.

Robert ran ahead to hurl one of the rocks toward the walls, [45] but as he got close, the boy stopped in his tracks. Other soldiers who had reached the rocks crossed themselves.

They were not rocks at all-but skulls.

Thousands of them.

THERE WERE FOOLS among us who believed that Antioch would fall in a day. On that first morning we lined up, many thousand strong. A sea of white tunics and red crosses.

Heaven’s army, if I truly believed.

We focused on the eastern wall, a buttress of gray rock thirty feet tall, spilling over with defenders in white robes and bright blue turbans at every post. And higher up, the towers, hundreds of them, were each manned with archers, their long, curved bows glinting in the morning sun.

My heart pounded under my tunic. At any moment, I knew, I would have to charge, but my legs seemed rooted to the ground. I muttered Sophie’s name as if in prayer.

Young Robert, looking fit, was next to me in line. “Are you ready, Hugh?” he asked with an eager smile.

“When we charge, stay by me,” I instructed him. I was twice the boy’s size. For whatever the reason, I had sworn in my heart to protect him.

“Don’t worry, God will watch over me.” Robert seemed assured. “And you too, Hugh, even if you try and deny it.”

A trumpet sounded the call to arms. Raymond and Bohemond, in full armor, galloped down the line on their crested mounts. “Be brave, soldiers. Do your duty,” they urged. “Fight with honor. God will be at your side.”

[47] Then all at once a chilling roar rose up from behind the city walls. The Turks, taunting and mocking us. I fixed on a face above the main gate. Then the trumpet sounded again. We were at a run.

I know not exactly what went through my mind as, in formation, we advanced toward the massive walls. I made one last prayer to Sophie. And to God, for Robert’s sake, to watch over us.

But I know I ran, swept up in the tide of the charge. From behind, I heard the whoosh from a wave of arrows shooting across the sky, but they fell against the massive walls like harmless sticks, clattering to the ground.

A hundred yards … A volley of arrows shot back from the towers in return. I held my shield as they ripped into us, thudding and clanging into shields and armor all around. Men fell, clutching at their heads and throats. Blood spurted from their faces, and gruesome gasps escaped from their wretched mouths. The rest of us surged ahead, Robert still at my side. In front of us, I saw the first ram approach the main gate. Our division captain ordered us to follow. From above, heavy rocks and fiery arrows rained down on us. Men screamed and toppled over, either pierced or rolling on the ground trying to smother the flames on their bodies.

The first ram pounded into the heavy gate, a solid wooden barrier the height of three men. It bounced off with the effect of a pebble tossed against a wall. The team reversed and rammed again. Foot soldiers were hurling their lances up at the defenders, but they fell halfway up the walls and in return brought volleys of spears and Greek fire, molten pitch. Men writhed on the ground, kicking and screaming, their white tunics ablaze. Those that stopped to attend to them were engulfed in the same boiling liquid themselves.

It was a slaughter. Men who had traveled so far, endured so much-God’s call resounding in their hearts-were cut down like grain in a field. I saw poor Mouse, an arrow piercing [48] his throat so completely his hands gripped it on both sides, drop to his knees. Others fell over him. I felt sure I would soon die too. One of the ram carriers went down. Robert took his place. Soon they were battering again at the gate, but without result.

Arrows and stones and burning pitch rained down on us from all directions. It was only luck to avoid death at any point. I scanned the walls, searching for archers or pitch, and to my horror spotted two large Turks preparing to tip a vat of bubbling tar upon those manning the ram. As they readied, I bolted into Robert, knocking him off his post and flush against the wall just as a sulfurous black wave engulfed his ram-mates. They all shrieked, buckling to their knees, tearing at their sizzling faces and eyes, an odious smell coming from their flesh.

I pressed Robert up against the wall, for a moment out of harm’s way. All around us, our ranks were being shredded. Soldiers fell to their knees and moaned. Battering rams were tossed aside and abandoned.

Suddenly the assault turned into a rout. Men, hearing the alarm, turned and fled from the walls. Arrows and spears followed them, dropping them as they ran.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” I said to Robert.

I dragged him from the wall and we ran with all our might. I prayed as I ran that my back would not be ripped apart by a Saracen arrow.

As we fled, the mighty fortress gate opened, and from within, horsemen appeared, dozens of turbaned riders flashing long, curved swords. They swept toward us like hunters chasing a hare, yelping mad cries that I recognized as “Allahu Akbar.” God is great.