Warriors (5 page)

‘Is there any possibility the inhabitants of Melfi will close the gates against us?’ asked William. ‘They have no reason to love Normans.’

‘They do not hold the castle.’

‘Right at this moment no one holds the castle. You have no garrison, which means the townsfolk have nothing to stop them taking it over.’

‘I am the
topoterites
appointed by the catapan. They will not, and cannot, deny entry to me, and if I choose to lead you in…’

The fact that Arduin did not finish that sentence was proof enough to William that he had raised a real possibility, and one that would fatally compromise the whole endeavour. Melfi had to be their base as well as their refuge, and having avoided it more than once as he and Rainulf’s men raided into Apulia he knew
how strong it was. Even with untrained townsfolk it could be held for an age if they had enough food, certainly long enough to alert Byzantium to what was happening.

‘Might I suggest that you only approach the town with the fifty lances; in short, the garrison the people can be persuaded to accept. Once they are inside the fortress, the Melfians can object as much as they like to another two hundred and fifty more joining them, it will be of little use.’

‘That smacks of you being fearful,’ Rainulf growled.

‘I am that,’ William replied. ‘I have found it helps to be so in a campaign. Michael Doukeianos will hear soon enough of our arrival and the purpose for which we are there. He will have no choice but to bring everything he can muster to evict us. Arduin needs time to gather local levies so that we can meet him with an army, and we have to find crossbowmen from somewhere since we will not have time to train them.’

‘Let him besiege you,’ Rainulf suggested. ‘Let him waste his strength before your walls.’

William looked at Arduin, who nodded, bidding him continue. ‘What message will that send out to Apulia, Rainulf? That we are afraid to meet him in the field? The best way to rally support across the province and beyond is to give Doukeianos battle, at a time and place of our choosing, and beat him.’

‘We must,’ Arduin added, ‘attack and take some
of the nearby towns to encourage him. The quicker he seeks to defeat us the better because of his lack of strength.’

Rainulf was shaking his head, possibly from the memory of the previous defeat, but more likely because he was inclined to disagree with whatever was proposed on principle. There was no doubt he saw what was happening as a diminution of his standing: orders and actions were being proposed for his men and he was not the one deciding on the tactics to be employed. William could see that Guaimar was paying him close attention, watching his every reaction, knowing that each rebuff was a test of his authority.

‘The time will come, Rainulf,’ he said, in an encouraging tone, ‘when Arduin and William have laid the ground for our open support. Every one of us will gain eventually.’

That was so blatant a piece of hypocrisy that William had to fight not to react, and he was not helped by the look on Arduin’s face, which could only be described as contemptuous, hardly surprising given the cynicism of what Guaimar had just said. Clearly the prince realised he had made an error, had spoken too truthfully about what he hoped for the future, for he added quickly and earnestly.

‘Byzantium evicted from our borders can only do us good.’

‘So you still wish me to approach the Prince of
Benevento about Argyrus becoming titular leader of the revolt?’

The positive reply was a stammer: Arduin had brought out into the open something meant to be kept close. It was pleasing to see Guaimar discomfited; since his return from Sicily William had not, until this day, seen the younger man put a foot wrong in the way he had played him and Rainulf off against each other, and he was obviously, given the mention of Benevento, planning to play the same game with his Lombard neighbour.

Benevento was a papal fief, answerable to Rome, not an imperial one whose suzerain was the Western Emperor in Germany, thus Guaimar could justifiably insist to Constantinople that they were acting alone: he had no involvement in any Apulian uprising and the ultimate responsibility lay with the Holy See.

If Byzantium managed that which it had done in the past, and massively reinforced the Catapanate, and either defeated Arduin or forced him to withdraw, then no blame – even if there were good grounds to suspect it – could be attached to the Prince of Salerno, and while whoever was sent from the east to chastise Apulia took out their ire on Benevento, he would have ample time to negotiate for a settlement of any perceived grievances with the victorious catapan. The Normans could be explained away as they always were, as greedy mercenaries not under his direct control.

Should the revolt succeed, Guaimar would, no doubt, claim to have been the magnate to instigate it, and he would thus be able to put himself forward as a future ruler of that dreamt-for Lombard Kingdom. Any other nobleman prepared to contest that claim would know that, through Rainulf, he controlled the Norman host, a force impossible to stand against, and that would apply to the Adriatic trading ports as well. The Prince of Salerno might get himself raised to the purple, and Rainulf Drengot would be rewarded with more land and titles to ensure his support.

As a piece of chicanery it was a perfect example of the politics William had come to expect in Southern Italy, one of the reasons no Lombard overlord had ever succeeded in leading a successful rebellion; they were too busy manoeuvring to see the wood for the trees. The second reason was one they were even less able to discern: the way they bore down on their subjects, with arbitrary methods of rule, especially in the area of taxation and law.

No Italian ever won a legal case against a Lombard in courts where those sitting in judgement were either of that race or Lombard appointees; no citizen of any of their lands could be sure that, having paid what taxes their overlord demanded, there would not be a sudden claim for more, with outright seizure a permanent possibility. Even Guaimar would be tainted with that tribal habit, not yet perhaps, but
sometime in the future when he felt his coffers to be too low.

So, when they conscripted Italians to fight in their campaigns, often Lombard versus Lombard, they had under their command reluctant men forced to war for something which would provide them little gain, if any at all, excepting death. No wonder they had never managed to form that kingdom these lords of fertile lands all dreamt of; no wonder they needed Normans to fight their wars.

Rainulf was quick to see the ramifications of what had just been said: Guaimar would involve him when he took a hand himself. There would be ample rewards with no prospect of loss and he would, by right, reassume command of his own men and put William de Hauteville back in his place. For the first time that morning he smiled.

To move a force of three hundred cavalry, more than forty leagues, over different types of terrain, was a huge undertaking. Each lance required three horses: a destrier and a packhorse carrying his personal possessions, both led, plus the mount he rode, and that took no account of the spare animals needed for a force expecting to fight, which, given the delicate nature of the beasts, always led to more equine casualties than human. Naturally there were also losses through normal activity: age, sickness and laming.

To a Norman knight these mounts were paramount possessions, the means by which he got to the point of combat; usually – though they often fought on foot – the instrument, along with raw courage, his sword and lance, of victory, as well as, should things go badly, his means of flight. Every one of the men under William’s command had been raised, as had the de Hauteville brothers, in close proximity to horses; they knew their sires and mares, had often attended the foaling of the mounts they rode, had trained them from yearlings, treating them with a combination of strict discipline, affection and careful attention to their well-being.

But they were not sentimental regardless of the attention they lavished; each horse had a purpose. The lesser breeds as beasts of burden, the travelling mount required to be fleet as well as full of stamina, the destrier to be unflinching in the face of the enemies the rider would fight – men with pikes, axes, lances and swords, who, yelling in their thousands, could create enough of a din to act upon the nerves of a prey animal, for in the wild state that was what a horse was, thus being highly strung and so nervous they reacted to any unusual sound or sight. That they could be made fearless was remarkable.

Even in Italy, where Roman roads still existed, there were many areas – and the approach to Melfi from both east and west was one – where the only reliable transport for an army on the march had to be
hoofed: not carts but packhorses, mules and donkeys. When they got to the town and castle that lay beneath the towering height of Monte Vulture, and to the fighting which lay beyond, William and the men he led, as well as their animals, would be required to live off the surrounding land.

For now, fodder could be gathered from the various fortresses and petty barons on the way, each one required to be a storehouse for Guaimar, their liege lord, but the main requirement was water, which meant that the route was dictated by the river system, at least until they got into the mountains where there were deep and abundant lakes. Men had to be fed and cared for as well, and the Norman host had with them enough camp followers to cook and see to their needs, as well as an armourer, a farrier, a saddle and harness maker, and a priest to say mass every day.

They travelled early morning and late afternoon, when the sun had lost some of its fire, resting up in the midday heat in places located by the advance party, sent ahead under Mauger. He was tasked to find not only ample water but shade and pasture, and the journey was not rushed – at five leagues a day – to keep fresh the horses. It took eight days, time for Arduin to both travel to Benevento to talk to the reigning prince and to make it back to rendezvous with William, with a view of Monte Vulture, but out of sight of the town and castle of Melfi.

The news Arduin brought to that encampment was by its nature mixed. The Prince of Benevento had refused to agree that the son of Melus, even given the power of his father’s name, should act as the standard-bearer for the revolt. Instead, no doubt fired by greed, he had put forward his own younger brother, Count Atenulf, with the proviso that, should matters go against the insurgency, he might be obliged to disown him in order to appease Byzantine wrath. William’s comment, made not to Arduin but to his brothers, was, ‘Typically Lombard!’

The next morning Arduin and William rode ahead with fifty knights, knowing their approach would set off the alarm – in this part of the world every commune looked out for signs of approaching danger, which fifty mounted men wearing Norman mail and helmets certainly represented – and it came as no surprise to find the mass of the townsfolk had decamped from their dwellings to the castle and slammed shut the gates. 

Neither was it a surprise to see Kasa Ephraim in the Castello di Arechi; as the Collector of the Port, the Jew was a powerful official in the government of Salerno, holding an office of high and consistent profit to both Prince Guaimar and himself. A look over the Castello battlements would show why: the bay was full of vessels arriving and departing, the harbour berths packed with trading ships from both the Levant and the territories to the north, eager to take back to their home ports the produce of fertile Campania, every one obliged to pay customs dues for the goods fetched in and transported out.

Ephraim was the man who had helped the young heir and his sister to escape the clutches of Pandulf, murderous enough to have them both killed, by
smuggling them away to sea, then ultimately to Rome and the Imperial Court at Bamberg. He had also used his contacts in Rome to provide funds with which to appear at the court of the Holy Roman Empire in some style. The Jew had claimed that valuable office as his reward for the service, and any fears Guaimar might have had about the way he would conduct himself had long been laid to rest.

An examination of the tally books proved that in the time of his tenure in the collector’s office Ephraim had increased the revenues of the port substantially, monies which allowed his young master to be a liberal benefactor to his lesser nobles, the church and the poor; for the rest of the population, he satisfied their needs with pomp and display at the numerous religious festivals, both in the Latin rite as well as the Orthodox, which punctuated the Salerno year.

‘I give you good day, honourable one.’

This Ephraim said as he entered Guaimar’s private apartments. Under his arm he had his tally books so that the prince could see the extent of the month’s revenues which, in gold and silver coin, were at that very moment being handed over by Ephraim’s servants to the prince’s official treasurer, whose domain lay deep in the vaults of the Castello. These would be placed in the brass-bound state coffers, which lay behind two very heavily barred and constantly guarded doors.

Guaimar having dismissed his servants, no one saw, apart from the two principals, the single bulging leather purse the Jew gave to his master for his private use, the monies he extracted as bribes from those who smuggled goods in and out of that same port. Kasa Ephraim had explained, long before the young man came into his inheritance, that smuggling could not be stopped in a port like Salerno, with its long, deep bay and shallow sandy beaches; therefore it must be controlled.

So the collector oversaw it, kept it from growing into a burgeoning problem, provided an occasional malefactor to be stoned by the mob, usually someone who had gone too far or tried to avoid paying a bribe, to prove to all he was carrying out his official duties, thus raising monies from the contraband trade that would otherwise have gone missing.

It was a duty the Jew had carried out for the young man’s father, providing him, too, with sums of money that were never seen by the treasurer who recorded the income of the duchy, or the chamberlain who helped his lord and master to spend it. It was a fact that even the richest magnate required funds which he could disburse in secret to increase or merely just to maintain his power. The one question never posed was how much the Jew took as commission for his services: nothing was ever committed to paper.

‘I received word, this very morning, that our Normans are close by Melfi.’

Kasa Ephraim nodded. He was a tall, good-looking man with, apart from a somewhat sallow Levantine complexion, none of the features so associated with his race. As well as his duties in the port he had become an unofficial advisor to the young prince: not part of his court, yet close to it, a man in whom Guaimar could confide without a record being kept of what was discussed, and one whose wisdom and discretion he respected.

‘But they do not yet have possession of the castle?’

Guaimar dropped his eyes then, so that Ephraim could not see the train of his thoughts: the Jew had sources of information every bit as good as those of his prince, perhaps, in some regard, even better. Had he made that assertion regarding the Normans from knowledge or deduction?

‘I await news. I hope also that the Prince of Benevento will accede to a request from Arduin, and give permission to Argyrus, the son of Melus, to raise his standard as leader of the revolt.’

The Jew was clever, Guaimar knew that, and, lifting his head again, he gave him a look from under half-hooded eyes, accompanied by an enigmatic smile, which implied much but conveyed little.

‘And if this is the case, what will it portend?’

‘Should it tell me more than the fact that the revolt in Apulia can proceed?’

‘I sense, honourable one, that it will give you cause to examine your policy.’

‘How so?’

Kasa Ephraim had become accustomed to this game, one the prince played with increasing frequency. It was natural as a head of state that he thought of nothing but the good of his patrimony, which in essence meant he indulged in a high degree of selfinterest, since the fate of Salerno and the fate of its ruler were inextricably intertwined. It was also the case that the public face he presented was often at odds with his private thoughts: there were things a wise ruler needed to keep even from his everyday advisors.

‘The forces that shape our destiny are many and varied, Prince Guaimar.’

‘And must be treated on their merits.’

‘Or faults, honourable one.’

‘Even if they take possession of Melfi, it will be some time before Arduin can launch any kind of deep incursion into Byzantine territory.’

‘And you are curious, I sense, as to how the catapan will react?’

‘It is my duty to be.’

‘I sense you would not now wish that which is about to fall upon him to come as a surprise?’

Guaimar smiled, an expression both full and satisfied. ‘You have, as usual, my clever friend, nailed the predicament. If I wish, and I do wish, the catapan to believe that Salerno has had no hand in this revolt, how can I reassure him?’

‘Only by forewarning him.’

‘Is that a wise thing to do?’

The strands of what the prince was saying were very obvious to a man who would have openly and proudly admitted to being in possession of a very devious mind. He also had much experience in the byways of other men’s thinking – the processes by which they justified to themselves acts of questionable virtue – a very necessary ability for one of his race in a Christian world that was not always overly fond of the Sons of Abraham.

Guaimar wanted to protect Salerno from any chance of Byzantine reprisals, which would surely follow if Arduin and his Normans failed in Apulia. It would be pointless to protest to a lack of knowledge after matters were settled in favour of Constantinople: he would not be believed. Were the Normans not from his fiefs, were they not men who had been in his service? The leaders, Arduin and this Argyrus, were Lombards, as was he, for Michael Doukeianos would soon discern that the latter was no more than a figurehead, and this might expose the tentacles that led back to Campania.

Yet Guaimar had a need to be careful: what if Rainulf Drengot found out that his liege lord had sent information to Bari, which he would certainly do if this matter was discussed openly in the prince’s council? Never mind his reservations about William de Hauteville, Drengot’s men were about to take over Melfi, and surprise was an advantage that would stand them in good stead when it came to the first encounters with the enemy, something that definite information given to the catapan would possibly destroy. An angry Rainulf might bring them back to fall on the man he felt had betrayed them.

‘If he is a wise catapan, honourable one, he might already know.’

‘You are saying he has spies in Salerno?’

There was no irritation in the question; both men knew the strands of Byzantine influence were long and deep, given they had once ruled in this part of Italy, just as they knew their own city. Constantinople had eyes and ears in every court that might pose a threat: Rome and Bamberg, home to the Western Emperor, especially. Salerno, Naples, Amalfi and Gaeta, all trading rivals on the Western Italian coast, each contained within them Greek traders, while substantial parts of their Italian populations still worshipped in the Orthodox rite and looked to the Greek not the Roman church for guidance. Loyalty was a movable feast even if you excluded payments for information.

‘We are a busy trading port, honourable one. Ships go in and out of Salerno by the fistful every day, and many go east to the Levant and the Bosphorus. It would be foolish to think some hint of Arduin’s intent has not left with them. The port, indeed any port, must be a hotbed of rumour and gossip.’

‘So no warning from me would serve?’

‘On the contrary,’ Ephraim insisted. ‘If what I suspect is true, and the catapan will be forewarned anyway, it would be sound policy that something of the same should come from you.’

There was a moment when both men ruminated on what the Jew had said: there was a great difference between gossip and hard, irrefutable fact. Michael Doukeianos would wonder if there was truth in the former; word from a Prince of Salerno would be taken as truth.

‘And Benevento?’ Guaimar asked.

Kasa Ephraim was at pains not to smile, for what Prince Guaimar had been saying so far was in the nature of being obvious. Now he had come to the salient point: here was the true nub of that at which he was driving. To inform the catapan of the involvement of Benevento could have unseen benefits, first by definitely diverting suspicion from Salerno, and secondly – and again this was based on the possibility of the failure of the Apulian revolt – with that information given early, any reprisals would be
directed against his fellow Lombard prince and that could present opportunities in the aftermath, which might see the expansion of Guaimar’s territory at the expense of his neighbour. It never did any man harm to be on the side of the victor.

He did not smile, because he was too wise to let even his lord know of his thoughts, instead he looked grave. ‘We know from the past that the Eastern Empire does not forgive those who see it as its enemies.’

‘Are there ships at present in the harbour who might have reason to call at Bari?’

‘It can be arranged, honourable one.’

If Guaimar detected any irony in the way Kasa Ephraim addressed him, it did not show.

‘A secret letter then, with my seal?’

Ephraim shook his head. ‘No seal, my Lord, not even your name on the message. It would not be wise to gift Constantinople something with which they could later undermine you.’

‘That is wise. I must go now to my council, where we are to discuss the matter of Amalfi.’

‘A troublesome thorn, honourable one.’

In saying that, Kasa Ephraim was identifying a truth to both him and his prince. Not only was Amalfi Salerno’s closest trade rival, but, positioned as they were, on the direct route west to the Tyrennian Sea, they could board and seize goods at will, interfering with shipping going to and from this port from half
the Mediterranean. These interceptions were based on the flimsiest of excuses, but they diminished the revenues of the much larger principality. It had long been Guaimar’s intention to put Amalfi in its place.

‘They think by denying piracy, by claiming imperial edict, that I will believe them.’

‘No thief lacks justification for his crimes, honourable one.’

‘You see I have just cause, do you not, to subdue them by force?’ Ephraim merely nodded: it was, in truth, not a dispute in which he wanted to become involved, having as he did his own interests in the port of Amalfi. ‘And besides, we must keep Rainulf Drengot occupied, for if he is not he is inclined to mischief.’

So, the territory of Amalfi will be invaded,
Ephraim thought, and the concomitant of that was what he would need to do about his own investments.

‘Might I also suggest, honourable one, that you lay upon them, at some time in the future, the accusation of alerting the catapan to what is about to fall on Melfi?’

The deviousness of that suggestion pleased Guaimar enormously, for he was grinning widely as he spoke. ‘How I wish I could have you as one of my council, but, of course, it would never do.’

Arduin stopped William and his knights far enough off to tempt out, through the gates of Melfi, the leading
citizens of the town, those who had left their homes to whatever they feared these Normans might do. He was alone as he addressed them, a man they already knew, who had feasted and flattered them on taking up his appointment, yet it was with obvious suspicion that they listened to the blandishments of this
topoterites
, as he sought to persuade them that they had nothing to fear.

‘These are the men I have engaged at the express request of the catapan. If you deny them entry to the castle they are supposed to garrison in your defence you will defy him and the emperor, not just me.’

‘They are Normans,’ one elderly worthy growled.

It was a telling interjection, which brought forth a swelling murmur of agreement from the assembled crowd; the people in these parts had encountered Normans before in the last two decades, and suffered much from their unbridled banditry. The castle they left alone – it was too strong for the roving bands – but the mailed knights took what they wanted in food and comfort from the surrounding countryside, burning and destroying what they could not carry if faced with resistance.