Adhemar's smile deepened. He tucked his arms inside the sleeves of his bishop's robe and almost hugged himself with satisfaction.

'Oh, but we think you too hasty, Lord Toulouse,' remarked Alexius. He rose slowly and took up the parchment bearing the oath and names of his previous guests. 'Perhaps we can broaden your range of alternatives. See here: bind your allegiance to us, your rightful sovereign, or cling to the pope and retire from the crusade. The Bishop of Rome serves this throne, not otherwise, and we will have our authority upheld by all who would shelter beneath it. Lead the crusade-if you are thus determined-but you will do so at our pleasure, and with our permission.'

Raymond, already rigid with stubbornness, stiffened yet further. The emperor, seeing he had pressed the matter far enough for the present, decided to let the headstrong count ponder his choice.

'Tomorrow,' he said, 'the armies of Bohemond and Tancred will be conducted by the imperial fleet across the Bosphorus to join the armies of Hugh and Godfrey at Pelecanum, and resume their march to Jerusalem.'

He paused and regarded the Count of Toulouse sternly. 'You, however, will remain behind.'

'How long, Lord Emperor, must I wait?'

Was the stony-headed knight softening already? 'That is for you to decide,' Alexius answered. 'Sign the oath and you shall rejoin the others without delay. Refuse your emperor, and you will wait. For, without your signature on this oath -' he snapped the proffered parchment with his fingertips, 'you will not be allowed to move a single step beyond the walls of this city. Thus, any authority you possess will perforce fall to another.'

Alexius dismissed his guests, who were immediately returned to their camp to ponder the implications of the emperor's decree. As soon as the great doors closed on the Salamos Hall, the commander of the imperial fleet turned to his kinsman and said, 'Do you think he will sign it?'

'Who can say?' wondered the emperor. 'We have met many proud men in our day, Dalassenus, but none more haughty than Raymond of Toulouse. He is a wilful man who believes himself chosen of God to lead his rabble of an army to glory. He considers it an honour of the highest regard, and he is jealous of it.'

'And now he fears he may lose it,' Dalassenus mused. 'That was very shrewd, Basileus.'

'Perhaps,' Alexius allowed cautiously. 'We shall see which is stronger-his fear or his jealousy.'

For eight days, Count Raymond of Toulouse held fast to his resolve and refused to add his signature to the oath of loyalty the emperor required. Instead, he stood by and watched the huge troop ships of the emperor's fleet ceaselessly plying the waters of the Bosphorus, ferrying the armies of Bohemond and Tancred across to Pelecanum and speeding them on their way. Meanwhile, merchant vessels of every kind and description arrived in port fully laden with supplies of grain, oil, wine, and livestock, for the provisioning of the crusaders. From morning to night, the busy waterway heaved and surged with a barely-contained tumult. At times there were so many boats out on the water the count thought a knight could have galloped from one shore to the other on shipdeck.

Every day, pilgrims in their thousands made their slow way down to the river landings on the Golden Horn, leading horses and pulling wagons overflowing with equipment and camp clutter. The horses were boarded first-a laborious chore which slowed an already sluggish operation to a tedious crawl; and when the animals were secure, the wagons, which had been disassembled on shore, were put aboard, followed by the weapons, supplies, and equipment the wagons had been carrying. Only when the ships could hold no more baggage, were the people allowed to come aboard-knights and their footmen first, and then the camp followers: the priests and churchmen of various kinds, the wives of the crusaders, and their children.

Fully laden, a troop ship could carry fifty horses, twenty wagons, and from three to four hundred people. The emperor had provided eleven of these large ships for the operation, and each ship could make two trips a day. Thus, while Count Raymond and Bishop Adhemar stood idly by, the numbers on the shore dwindled away with startling rapidity, until, after eight days, the sun set on an almost deserted quay.

The ninth day saw the arrival of Robert, Duke of Normandy, son of William Rufus, King of England; his cousin, Robert, Count of Flanders; and his brother-in-law, Count Stephen of Blois. Their combined forces ran to more than forty thousand men, including a small regiment led by the bellicose cleric, Bishop Odo of Bayeux.

Despite a slight difficulty with the Adriatic crossing, which resulted in the regrettable drowning of four hundred soldiers, all in all the journey to Constantinople had proved a highly satisfactory beginning to the pilgrimage, and the new arrivals were eager to cross the Bosphorus and engage the godless enemy. Like the others before them, the Latin Lords were immediately summoned to an audience with the emperor. Unlike some of their predecessors, however, they happily pledged allegiance to Alexius, and promised to return all lands, relics, peoples, and treasures to imperial rule.

The man largely responsible for their swift and gracious submission was Count Stephen, who appeared to enjoy a measure of influence with the others on account of his good-natured selflessness and genuine piety. Once the emperor learned of the high esteem in which Stephen was held by his comrades, he wasted not a moment in recruiting the young lord to the cause of inducing Raymond to sign the oath.

No sooner had Lord Blois replaced the quill upon the tray, than did Alexius remark how glad he was to have that formality behind them and how he would instantly command provisions to be delivered to the newcomers' hungry troops, whereupon the imperial ships would begin transporting them to Pelecanum to join their pilgrim comrades. Duke Robert, relieved and grateful, expressed his eagerness to resume the pilgrimage, whereupon the emperor mentioned what a dreadful shame it was that Count Raymond of Toulouse would not be joining them on the crusade.

The western lords glanced at one another wonderingly. Count Raymond's army was the largest and best supplied, and they were counting on his leadership. 'But, Lord Emperor, why should Raymond stay behind?' inquired Stephen respectfully.

'We can only assume that our friend has decided to abandon the crusade,' replied Alexius.

'Truly?' wondered Count Robert of Flanders.

'So it would appear.'

'Forgive me, Emperor Alexius,' said the Duke of Normandy, 'but I find this most difficult to believe. The Count of Toulouse is known to be a most ardent pilgrim. Indeed, his army stands ready even now to depart. There must be some other explanation. No doubt a mistake has been made.'

'There has been no mistake,' the emperor assured him. 'The only impediment to his departure is the oath which you and your comrades have just signed. Count Raymond has been in Constantinople nine days; each day he is presented with the oath, and each day he refuses to sign.' Alexius' voice became hard. 'As he cannot continue to the Holy Land until the document is acknowledged, we can only conclude that he has decided to forsake the crusade.'

Stephen, frowning with concern, nodded sympathetically. 'I begin to understand,' he replied. 'Perhaps the emperor might allow me a space in which to try to change his mind. With your consent, Emperor, I will speak to him.'

'Please, by all means, speak to him,' said Alexius with the air of a man who has exhausted every possibility. 'We will pray God grants you every success, and swiftly. The ships will begin transporting your troops the day after the Easter Mass and the oath must be signed before any soldiers are allowed to make the crossing.'