Second Letter, where Hermenegildo de Huesca sounds the horns of War (September 1066 - November 1067)
Dear Mother,
I did not have much opportunity to write you for a while, but not at least have. Here is the story of the last year I have spend serving the King of Aragon.
In
September 1066 Marschall Rodrigez and me swiftly started fulfilling the commission of the King. We travelled from fief to fief, from village to village, from town to town. And reminded the able men of these areas about the obligation to serve the King with lance and sword during the time of trouble. Sometimes reminded forcefully.
- You damned pigs! It is not enough that we had to pay every copper and sickle, when the Kings sister married this southern busybody! – an old woman was crying, as her muscled son was led away by recruiters. She was shaking her frailed fist.
- We do not take him for long, you know. Only for maneuvers! – I said, but did not sound convincing. Clearly the old woman thought so as well - for I had to dodge a dozen of rotten eggs and an angry cat as I left her hovel.
Many of the soldiers came willingly, though. Young farmers boys seeking for adventures readily cut lances for themselves, eager to join the light infantry. Burly knechts in heavy cuirasses, armed with maces and axes, and archers in green linen sold their services to the crown without hesitation . Mounted hidalgos and knights, sporting different banners and shields (some of them alone, some accompanied by small troops) flocked under the royal standard, talking about victories over Saracens.
As we assembled on the field near Loarre and started training the lot, Lord Marschall was still not pleased.
- Only 1990 men, and only one sixth of them can be called soldiers! The Navarrese or Arabs will eat them with lettuce! – he grumbled, as he watched an exceedingly young noble trying to climb on his mangy horse.
And he continued sending couriers to every part of the country, hiring, blackmailing, soothing, threatening. Somehow we needed to raise as much troops as possible and as quickly as possible. But why I still did not know. Meanwhile I assisted the Lord Marschall to captain and teach our new-formed army – somehowmany even did not not how to sit in the saddle or with which end of the lance to pierce the enemy. With much surprise I found myself in the position of en experienced warrior.
In October we suddenly saw a large procession cantering towards us. It was clearly coming from our capital. There were about a hundred nobles in gleaming armor, wearing cloaks of red silks and sporting surcoats with the emblem of the golden castle, symbol of Castille. Their leader, an very elderly man with rosy cheeks and ugly sliced forehead, small grey beard and imperious manners, stopped near the Marschall.
Don Muno de Castilla, Count of Asturias de Santilliana, Special Envoy of King Sancho II of Castille, Scarred, Wroth, Gregarious, Arbitrary, Slothful, Proud, Content
- I bid thee good day, Ramirez! I see that your King has once again demonstrated his unwillingness to serve the cause of Christ! Now, when my noble master, King Sancho of Castille, together with his august cousin, King Alfonso of Leon, have decided to attack the heathens in Aftasid and Hunid emirates, to reconquer Badajos and Aragonese lands… Your master has refused us his help! What kind of Christian is he?
- Say one more bad word about my sovereign, Count Muno of Asturias, and I will throw you the glove! – the Marschall answered. The both men looked at each others for a minute or too, as two angry tigers, and the Castillian cavalcade trotted away, only leaving clouds of murky dust.
For a few days I felt very troubled with the situation. And finally decided to ask Ramirez, whether he thought that this conduct of the King, who prepared to attack Navarra and refused his Catholic brothers help, appropriate.
I expected him to be mad at me, but he only smiled.
- Look around, Hermenegildo, and tell me what you see. No, I know that you see piles of dungs, lazy mules, greazy peasants and lots of sun. I want you to see more broadly. We live in a middle-sized county that we, for some reason, call a Kingdom. Hell, even most Frankish counts are richer that our monarch! And we are surrounded by fat and greedy neighbours – Leon has nine provinces, Castille – four, even Navarre two! I am not even speaking about Moslems. And all of them are very eager to gobble us up – why do you think they wanted our King to send his small army to this war, benefitting only them? In order to destroy it and then make Aragon an easy prey. And you wanted Sancho to be that stupid?
Therefore I continued to live in the abovementioned way. I must say that it was not unpleasant. The wife of the local miller, one Anne, was a saucy busty little thing, and I spend a lot of happy hours with her – and the table of the Marschall was, as always, good.
In the middle of October 1066 Sancho Ramirez suddenly received a letter from the King, which left him grinning like mad.
- See what I said? Our neighbours are like a pack of wolves They cannot desist from fighting each other even when united by the common cause, a war with Moslems. King of Galicia has decided to take Badajos from Castille, and Navarra supported him! And this is when all of them were supposed to be striking down the enemies of Christ! Ha! No better that mongrel dogs, if you ask me!
But then, in a week or so, one nice Sunday, when I was having a good nap, I was suddenly woken up by the church bells that rang quite disturbingly. When I looked out of the window, I saw the local Abbot preaching loudly. The fat clergyman was surrounded by inhabitants of Loarre, from peasants to the castellan of the castle himself.
- God be with you, good Aragonese. Today our noble King Sancho has decided to defend the cause of Christ! Together with the Kings of Navarre and Castille he will lead his crusader troops against the evil Emir of Hudids, to reconquer our ancestral Aragonese lands, Saraqusta, Calatayud and Albarracin! Come on, you good Christians, follow your King, take the Cross and free your oppressed brothers in these lands, tyrannized by the wicked and false!
I am dumbstruck, but Lord Marschall was laughing like mad.
- See? He used this time to bargain with Navarrese, Leonese and Castillians, agreeing to take Hudids, if they would agree to give him their Aragonese provinces…
However, one way or another, we suddenly started to prepare to the war swiftly. King Sancho arrived, magnificent in his armor of silvered steel and golden helmet shaped as the head of the lion. He was followed by Prince-Bishop Gartzia of Barbastro, who as wearing his church clothes over grey chainmail and many other noble knights and hidalgos. It was decided that the King would lead the whole army and the centre, his brother Prince Gartzia the left flank, and my master, Sancho Ramirez – the right.
- It is an insult! A cleric getting equal share of command as the warrior! Just because his mother spread her legs before King Ramiro after marriage, unlike my poor old woman... – the Lord Marschall muttered, but followed the orders. I, of course, was in the retinue of my seigneur, riding the same grey stallion and wearing the same old chainmail you, Mother, so gratiously granted to me. In addition to that I only bought a fine spiked mace, of Toledan work, from the royal blacksmith. I felt that I would need it in the next monthes or even years.
The Skullcrusher, the famous mace of Hermengildo de Huesca
Now I should tell you about the war.
In
December 1066 we crossed the borders of Saraqusta. It amazed me that the region was very much alike to our home province – the same sunlit peach, orange and almond trees, same majestic arches, great quantity of flowers of different colors everywhere. However the province was rather deserted – the Moslem nobles and rich merchants fled, being afraid of our army. At the same time their Christian compatriots greeted us quite enthusiastically – I am sorry to mention it, Mother, but I have broken many maidenheads these days! Of course, I confessed the sin later.
Region of Saraqusta
During these early days of the march I managed to get commended by the monarch himself. It was when we met the foe for the first time.
When we were coming through a wide field of dandallions, not far from the capital of this taifa, also called Saraqusta, a small group of Moslems suddenly blocked out way. They were riding fine young destriers, some as white as their turbans and cloaks - and some as chestnut as their faces. The clothes and chainmail of these Arabs were covered with green crescents and golden hand symbols (something they call «the hand of Fatima», if I remember right). They were armed with lances and bows, and none of them were older thant 18. They numbered to 28 – while our whole army consisted of several thousands.
The Saraqustian Militia of the Prophet
- Stop, heathens! – one of them said. It was clearly their leader, since he was holding a richly decorated scimitar in his hand
– We are the Militia of the Prophet, and will not let you come through. Our fathers, the nobility of the regions, have fled, but we have stayed and we are ready to die for Allah! I am Jellal-ibn-Mustafi, son of the Governor of Saraqusta.
However the King told us to continue going, and then one of these youths shot from his bow and killed a man-at-arms called Pedro Homez. The King grew really angry and told me to take fifty riders and chop the heathens to bits.
This is was my moment of glory, mother! Leading a gang of brave hidalgos, I cantered towards the insolent youths. Their arrows flew at us, but were intercepted by our shields and heavy armor. When I reached the enemies, I swung my mace and split the skull of Jellal-ibn-Mustafi. Sadly enough, his brains flew out and dirtied my brand-new cloak of red silk, presented to me by Lord Marschall. I was so angry that immediately slew five more Moslems with my mace. My men finished off the rest, taking no prisoners.
- Allmighty God, you know how to kill, de Huesca! – the gracious sovereign exclaimed. After that he told me to kneel and knighted me, before the whole army. I was gifted with golden spurs, a double-edged sword with a cruciform hilt, a brand-new cloak of Aragonese gold-and-red colors and allowed to keep three of the Moslem stallions as prizes. One of them I decided to ride, while two others sold to a rich hidalgo. I was also told that I now can call myself «Don Hermenegildo», have my own squire and the Marschall cannot hit me any longer. Don Sancho Ramirez seemed sad about that. This is how, Mother, you son has won great glory, and I am sure that you will be happy to read about it – and pray for my future successes in the royal service.
Don Hermenegildo de Huesca taking his oathes as the knight, Portrayed by a family painter in the 13th century.
By
January 1067 we have reached the city of Saraqusta, set our tents and started to siege it. The capital of the emirate amazed me with towers of white marble, with the hundreds of green banners waivering on its walls and the strange sounds of the Mudjedar belltower that was constantly disturbing our sleep at night, as if predicting our deaths. Knowing it is the capital of the Hudids, I expected a hard and bloody battle – but Emir Ahmad preferred to lead his main troops elsewhere, clearly to meet large Castillian, Barcelonian and Navarrese hosts, leaving seven hundred guardsmen under some minor taifa to protect the city. At the same time our army, after all the recruiting done by me and Marschall Sancho, amounted to 2408 men, including 646 lancers, 144 pikemen, 182 archers, 718 heavy infantrymen and 718 brave knights and hidalgos! Surely they were no match for us!
The Siege of Saraqusta
So it turned out more of a boring event then dangerous (as most sieges usually are). Each and every day we bombarding their walls with stones from our catapults, exchanging arrows – and, at the same time, whoring, eating and gambling. It must be noted that both us, siegers, and the defendants, had large amounts of food and women, so the thing could take long.
I must say such soldiering suited me very much – but it did not suit the King. You see, both the Castillian and Navarrese wanted to reconquer the Aragonese lands as well, so it was a kind of race between the allies – who would be quicker. Also our sovereign, being young and full of strength, wishes to become exalted among men and win glory of a warlord. Therefore Sancho I kep grumbling about our indecisiveness, reminding us about the fact that a joint Castillian-Galician army has defeated a gigantic Hudid host in Molin and is already laying siege of all its main fortresses.
Soon, however, I had a good opportunity to assist my sovereign in his ambitions -and win certain acclaim.
It happened in
November 1067, after 11 monthes of siege, I was appointed to command a night watch, assigned to guard the east side of our camp from possible attacks. Since such did not happen since our arrival, it was more or less of a sinecure – if a boring and nonbeneficial job can be called in such a way.
I have drunken a lot of wine and ale before that patrol and soon felt that I needed a piss. Leaving the command to another hidalgo, called Juan de Bustro, I went to the nearby bushes. When I started to take my bridges off, I suddenly heard a tender voice near me calling in Arabic (I must say that I have mastered the basics of the language during the years). It was whispering.
- Effendi! Effendi!
I immediately grabbed a pearl-encrusted dagger (one of the little playthings I bought myself after selling one of the Arabian horses) and jumped in the direction of the voice. In a moment I pinned a small Moslem boy to the ground, placing the edge to his throat. Only after doing that I looked at the child. It was a Saracen, with a thin face, shallow cheeks, short grizzly hair and big almond eyes. He was dressed in a rags of something that was a rich tunic in the past.
- Who are you? Spy? – I growled, looking at the Muslim.
- No, effendi! I want to work for you! For Christian! I am one myself! – the boy cried and crossed himself eagerly. I was so shocked that let him go. And he, instead of running, started to blurt out his story.
The name was Rasul (Robert in Christening). His family was of higher nobility, its head being «a Wali», as he explained. The father of the youth, a Wali, took a Christian girl, as one of his wifes. Rasul was her son and she secretly taught him her faith. When Emir Ahmad founded it out, he became so angry that he had the mother of the boy drowned, his father banished and the child was made a slave. He was not killed only because his parent was the third cousin to the Emir.
- And now I want to help… To avenge my mother… - Rasul-Robert explained, swallowing his own tears.
It might has all been a roose – but somehow, looking into the eyes of the boy, too serious and too sorrowful for his age, I believed him. I decided to take Rasul to the Marschall and discuss how could we use him.
However our tent was empty, and the sleepy servant told me that Sancho Ramirez was having a late council with the King. After some hesitation I went towards a big tent of red-and-black, the temporary residence of Sancho Jimena.
When I entered it, the King, as always ready to work at any time of the day and night, the gruff and displeased Marschall and another high-ranked knight in snow-white surcoat (that I did not recognize at first) were kneeling before the plan of Saraqusta. All of them were amazed to see me arrive, followed by a greazy Saracen boy.
For shortness I would not list all the epithets, questions and exclamations, which they uttered, as I told them the story of the boy.
When I finished, Sancho Ramirez immediately cried:
- And you propose us to believe the boy? We should kick him out immediately. Trusting a Saracen – and a Judas in addition to that! One willing to sell his own!
- One uses the methods that would give more benefit – the King said wryly.
- And if we do not accept the service of the boy, we should cut his throat. He may be dangerous – a very quiet voice in the other end of the tent suddenly said. I looked there – and saw the spiderly figure of Vela de Barbasco, the Justiciar and Spymaster. Even though the night was warm, he was wearing a broad black cloak -
Also... I questioned some prisoners few days ago. They told me the story of Wali Kemal and his unhappy matrimony. This cur seems to be speaking the truth.
Don Vela de Barbastro, Justiciar and Spymaster of Aragon, Naive Appeaser, Falconer, Just, Greedy, Cruel, Paranoid
- Seigneurs, we should at least listen to the plan of Don Hermengildo – and the boy! – the knight in white surcoat – and winked to me reassuringly. He had a handsome face with a straight nose and sparkling green eyes. I at least recognized him – it was Felipe de Barbastro, the Captain of the Royal Guard. A tourney champion and a descendant of an ancient Crusader family that owned lands in the regions since the times of King Pelayo, he was considered as one of the most able warlords in the army of Sancho I. All the current siege machines we used were constructed under his supervision. I knew that my master, Ramirez, secretly envied him.
Don Felipe de Barbastro, Captain of the Royal Guard, Brilliant Strategist, Humble, Gregarious, Wroth, Attractive, 2-16-9-9-7
- Well… I serve the constable of Northern Tower and his soldiers… I might open the gates and… - boy started, looking at the King fearfully.
- These damned gates are guarded by ten soldiers at least, right? They will hack you before you even shit yourself! – Sancho Ramirez growled –
My liege, I advise strongly against…
Suddenly I had an idea – and blurted it out, before I even could think about the consequences.
- Wait, segneurs! Rasul… Robert, I mean, you said you assist the constable and his soldiers, right? And you probably bring them food as well?
The child nodded.
- Well, there are some… special essences that would put the guardsmen into strong sleep, do they not… or even worse… if the boy is ready… If he put it into their food and then opened the gate without abuse…
Before I even finished the whole tent – save for the Marschall - roared with laughter.
- You willy dog! – Felipe de Barbastro exclaimed, clapping my shoulder.
- A very fine move, Don Hermenegildo, you surely have more talents that all of us initially thought! – the lips of the King twisted into a pleased smile.
- We do have some very-very special potions… I would instruct the boy and provide them with such… - the Spymaster nodded approvingly.
Only Sancho Ramirez wasnt amused. He looked at us crossly – expecially at me.
- Sire, I am still against this plan! We cannot trust a mere child with such a task, rely on him! And also push him into actions that are close to murder – or are murder themselves! It is both unreasonable and godless! In this case, brother, I will not lead the charge…
Understanding what he had said, Lord Marschall closed his mouth abruptly. Cold silence reigned for a few minutes.
Then the King yawned and drank from his cup with clear water.
- In this case, half-brother, I will not burden you. Don Felipe de Barbastro will prepare the assault troops and led the charge. Don Vela, you will instruct the boy. Now it is time for sleep. I than you all for counsel – especially you, Don Hermengildo.
In the morning the city of Saraqusta was taken - with minimum blood. When our cavalry entered through the open gates, and few turbaned heads were chopped, most enemy Muslims decided to submit to us. However, some of them did not overlive the night – the Christian populace, angry because of years of oppression and abuses such as Jizra tax (which each non-Muslim in the emirate had to pay), massacred many of their past masters, robbing their houses.
Our army has plundered the city well, and many knights and soldiers acquired jewels, bits of precious silks, bags of exotic spices, excellent weaponry. I, however, was left penniless – at the day of the storm Don Sancho Ramirez sent me to forage in the nearby villages. It was clearly an ac of revenge.
However the King has not forgotten me. When I returned, he named me Captain of Scouts, giving me a command of two hundred hidalgos on swiftest horses and fifty archers. From now one I was to be present at all highest military councils.
The boy, Rasul-Robert, entered my employ as a servant. I never asked him about his actions at the siege night, whether he was forced to poison the guards or just make them sleepy. And, to be honest, do not intend to.
Soon we will be marching forward.
Sincerely yours,
Don Hermenegildo de Huesca, Knight of the Realm, Captain of Scouts in the Army of King Sancho of Aragon
Written at Saraqusta
Young Rasul-Robert ibn Kemali, Shieldbearer to Don Hermenegildo de Huesca in 1070
