While his servants dressed him for battle, he instructed the magister to send for the Logothete of the Symponus. The elderly official came puffing into his presence, clutching the document the emperor had requested. Alexius relieved him of the parchment and, buckling on his sword, made his way quickly to the wall. He was met on the steps by Nicetas.

'Eleven dead, Basileus,' the commander reported. 'Twenty-seven wounded and injured.'

'Among the citizens-how many?'

'Eighteen, Basileus,' the commander replied. 'Three merchants, six market traders and one or two artisans; the rest were women and children.'

Dismissing his commander to his duties, the emperor proceeded up the last of the long series of steps to the top of the wall where Dalassenus was waiting for him.

'The fighting continues, Basileus. The Romans have pillaged the markets closest to their camps,' the Grand Drungarius informed him. 'They appear to be readying an attack on the gate.'

'Where are their commanders?' wondered Alexius, gazing down into the swirling mass of armoured men swarming the bridge before the gate. Like so many barbarian hordes before them, these mad Latins believed they could conquer the empire by beating down the gates of Constantinople.

'It does not appear to be an organized assault, Basileus,' the young general informed him. 'Indeed, the main body of the force seems to be retreating.' He pointed to the river where the crusaders were moving along the southern bank. Across the waste ground, whole districts of the crusader tent city had been removed, and more were going. The pilgrim army was on the march.

'It may be they will try to establish siege points,' Dalassenus suggested. 'Or, perhaps they think to ford the river upstream and attack the city from the east.'

'Across the river?' Alexius shook his head. 'It makes no sense.'

'Nevertheless,' Dalassenus replied, 'we could defeat the force at the gate before the others knew of the attack.'

Just then a strategus approached on the run. 'The archers are ready, Basileus,' he said. 'They await your command.'

The emperor turned away from the gate and looked out over the site of the affray. A dull haze of smoke hung low over the market square where the conflict had broken out. The market-what was left of it-stood in disarray; the traders' ramshackle wooden stalls had been smashed, broken up, and the pieces scattered over the empty square; ruined produce and wasted merchandise had been trampled into the dust; there were walking wounded hobbling, dazed, over the destruction, and two or three bodies still lay unattended, although several others had been collected in carts which were now hastening towards a nearby church.

'Shall I give the order to attack?'

'Send a few flights over their heads,' Alexius said. 'Drive them away from the gate.' Turning to one of the excubitori behind him, he said, 'We will need a horse, and one for the drungarius. Bring word when the Immortals have arrived.'

'Basileus?' wondered the drungarius. 'The Immortals can take them with ease. There is no need to put yourself in danger. Allow me to send word when we have secured the Romans' surrender.'

'No, Dalassenus, I want the Romans to see me leading the charge so that they will know who demands their allegiance. We will defeat them in their own camp, and they will sign the oath of loyalty,' he said, placing the parchment into his kinsman's hands. Turning his eyes once more towards the river, he looked at the long lines of crusaders moving along the banks, shaking his head in bewilderment. 'This is troublesome. I wish I knew what it meant.'

A few moments later, word came that the Immortals had arrived and were waiting at the gate below. Alexius and Dalassenus descended to join the elite scholae. Taking his place at the head of the troops, the emperor delivered final orders; then, turning to the wall, he signalled to the strategus, who gave the order to let fly the arrows. 'Open the gates!' commanded Alexius. The gatemen began plying the winches and there came a groaning sound as the huge doors ground open slowly.

Accompanied by his commander and a hundred mounted Immortals, and seventy-five Varangi on foot, Alexius charged into the fray. The pilgrims, having been forced away from the gate by the archers, were massed together at the end of the bridge over the dry ditch before the outer wall. The instant the gate was opened, they all surged forward, only to be thrown back upon themselves by the sudden appearance of the mounted soldiers.

As the horses thundered onto the bridge, the crusaders halted. Angry battle-cries turned instantly to screams of terror as the fore-ranks, squeezed by the multitude pressing in from behind, found themselves unable to escape. The fortunate few on the outer sides threw themselves off the bridge and into the ditch below to avoid the imperial lances. The rest were ridden down as the riders swept out into the chaotic mass of crusaders.

Alexius struck and struck again, using the butt of his spear as often as the blade. Even as the weapon rose and fell in his hand, he scanned the battleground for any sign that their attack would be met and matched by a sudden surge of knights. But he saw no sign of mounted resistance, and so carried the charge forward.

The pilgrims, disoriented and dismayed, fled in droves before the imperial assault. Although the emperor had given orders that his own troops were not to pursue opportunities for combat with individuals, the pilgrim ranks were in such disarray that the scholae could not help cutting them down as they ran. Even so, far more died in the crush, trampled to death by their own comrades desperate to flee the onrushing horses.

The imperial scholae cut a wide swathe through the scattering crusaders and proceeded swiftly towards the river, and the exposed flank of the crusader army as it moved along the bank. As they drew near, they were met by a body of defenders-perhaps a hundred hastily-ordered knights, and several hundred footmen-who formed a rough battle line between the emperor's force and their own directly behind them. Poised to fight, yet waiting for the Byzantines to make the first move, they appeared irresolute and uncertain.

'Halt!' Alexius cried, pulling hard on the reins. His horse reared and plunged to a stop within a dozen paces of the front rank of knights. Instantly, his bodyguard reined up beside him while the Immortals ranged themselves in two long wings of double ranks on either side, forming an intimidating wall before the reluctant knights.

Staring down the length of his spear, Alexius brought its point to the throat of the foremost knight. 'I am Alexius, Supreme Sovereign of the Holy Roman Empire. Do you understand what I am saying to you?' he asked, speaking in unadorned Latin so that there should be no mistaking his meaning.

'I understand,' replied the truculent soldier. The man's age and the scar on the side of his neck signified him to be a veteran of battle. Wisely, he made no move to raise his sword.

'Where are your lords?' Alexius demanded.

The pilgrim jerked his head sideways, indicating that they were up ahead, leading the march. 'Go and find them,' the emperor ordered. 'We will await them here.'

Seeing that the Greeks did not appear interested in offering battle, the knight nodded to the man beside him. The second warrior put spurs to his mount and rode quickly away. There followed a long, tense interval as the two opposing forces waited for the arrival of the crusader lords, eyeing one another across the short distance separating them.

All at once there came a commotion from the rearward ranks. A way parted and Alexius saw a number of riders making their way towards the front line. He waited until they had come within the sound of his voice, and then said, 'So! Tell me, how stood the fearsome merchants before your mighty swords? Did the children and their mothers offer stout resistance to your massed attack? The victory is yours-how well the glory sits upon your valiant shoulders!'