Mercenaries (20 page)

‘To set right what lies he has been told, to seek to deflect him from coming any further south.’

‘What makes Rainulf think he will listen?’

‘Sire, he will listen if you are penitent.’ That was not an emotion pleasing to Pandulf, and try as he might he could not disguise it. ‘Whatever rights you think you hold, sire, you must give up the lands of the Abbey of Montecassino.’

His reply was almost like a man with a wound. ‘Give them up?’

‘That must be what has made him act as he has. No
imperial host comes south of Rome without purpose.’

‘Give them up?’ he said again.

‘As well as Abbot Theodore. I assume he is still alive?’

‘I do not know.’

That was very like Pandulf: once someone was put in his dungeons, he had no interest in them at all.

‘Then, sire, I would suggest we need to find out. I think also the Archbishop of Capua should be freed to return to his Episcopal Palace. You must do something to appease the wrath of the emperor, so he will listen, and that would also placate your citizenry.’

It took the Wolf a while, as being placatory was not in his nature, but eventually he acceded.

‘Let us hope Abbot Theodore is up to a journey.’ Pandulf was nodding, but that stopped as William added his next notion, making it sound as though it had just occurred. ‘Perhaps Rainulf is wrong, perhaps it would be better if you accompanied the Abbot Theodore, took him to Conrad as a gesture of peace.’

William could almost see his mind working: there was no way Pandulf was going to put himself in the hands of Conrad, with Rainulf or the abbot at his side, given he knew what he had done and how it was perceived. He would be searching for an alternative, which was what William wanted.

‘My mind is troubled, William.’

‘How so, sire?’

The Wolf began to move around, his arms being used to emphasise his thinking as he posed a stream of rhetorical questions. ‘Regarding what we do not know. Do we have knowledge of the lies Conrad has been fed? No. Do we know the size of his host? No. Do we have any notion of what he intends? No. Of what will satisfy him? No. These things need to be known before I can even think of an embassy. I’m sure Rainulf would say the same.’

‘Would such knowledge alter what you will do, sire?’ asked Drogo, William being grateful his brother had intervened; he was getting sick of doing all the asking.

‘Oh, yes,’ Pandulf said, his voice silky. ‘If we knew how large was his army, we could plan how to confront it, Rainulf and I. If we knew Conrad’s intentions, we would have some notion of how to deflect him. I think it would be better to know these things before Rainulf and I even think of discussing terms.’

‘Terms?’

‘Certain offers will have to be made.’

‘You speak of things of which I know nothing, sire.’

‘I have it,’ cried Pandulf. ‘Conrad, because of these falsehoods laid against me, would be a hard man to deal with directly. He must be brought to think on them first, to see that there are untruths. And, might I say, it would be to the advantage of Rainulf and me to be invited under truce to commune with him.
To just arrive, before he has had an opportunity to ponder, might see us seized and given no chance to plead for the justice we deserve.’

Pandulf turned to face them, beaming like a man from whom a great burden has been lifted.

‘The solution is to send emissaries first, to find out that which we need to know and also to extract a safe conduct. And who could be better placed to undertake this than you?’

‘What would I take?’

‘Take?’

‘Sire,’ William said, with a glum expression. ‘No emissary can just turn up with nothing.’

That wiped the smile off Pandulf’s face. ‘No.’

‘There must be some kind of offer, one that Conrad will find so persuasive he will accede to your request.’

‘The abbot?’

‘A sick and undernourished man, as he must be, despite your care, may not impress the emperor or his advisors.’

Pandulf suddenly lost his temper. ‘This is all that little swine Guaimar’s doing, him and his whore of a sister. She’s probably had Conrad inside her shift while she whispers lies about me in his ears. I should have strung the viper up, and once I was done with her, stuck her in a nunnery. Or maybe I should have just thrown her to my Normans…

With some effort he recovered himself; the brothers
could see him fighting to control his breathing and when he spoke, the reason for the sudden outburst was obvious.

‘We must bribe Conrad to go away,’ he said, in a voice now flat. He waited for a response, but neither William nor Drogo obliged. ‘I have gold, let him have that and perhaps he will leave me in peace.’

‘How much gold?’ asked Drogo.

It was a telling indication of Pandulf’s character and rapacity that he could answer the question without hesitation. ‘I could give him three hundred pounds in weight.’ He looked keenly at the brothers. ‘For my title and my freedom.’

‘A telling offer,’ said Drogo; in fact it was a fortune.

The Wolf was looking at William. ‘Will you agree to carry this offer to Conrad?’

‘You will, of course, free your prisoners?’ asked William.

‘Of course,’ the Wolf insisted, then obviously, the thought of handing over so much gold made him change his tack. ‘But, you must not just make this offer of my gold unless you see it as necessary. Find out first what we need to know, see if we can contest with this imperial fool. Do not just say I will gift him my riches, and should you feel you must, add that there will a contribution from Rainulf too.’

That got them another suspicious look. ‘I am sure Rainulf would not fail me and the revenues of Aversa
are splendid, not to mention all that I have given him.’

‘Never,’ Drogo replied, with deep sincerity. ‘He is your friend and you are his liege lord.’

‘Good. When will you go?’

William said, ‘As soon as our mounts are rested, but…’

Pandulf did not like that. ‘But?’

‘I fear we must have, sire, some token of your esteem, perhaps some part of what it is you are prepared to offer, to gift the emperor immediately, so that he will accept our bona fides. He does not know us and, besides that, he will be surrounded by his court. We may have to pay a bribe just to gain a hearing.’

Pandulf thought on that for some time, but it made sense: two strange knights just turning up with nothing would not be acceptable. ‘I will arrange for you to take enough with you to impress both him and any others you need to bribe.’

‘We must see to our own needs before we go,’ Drogo insisted, ‘and I think we should find out if the abbot is fit to travel, and the archbishop still of this world. The emperor is bound to ask after his welfare.’

‘Do you need someone to escort you to the dungeons?’

‘No, sire,’ said Drogo, ‘we know the way.’

The abbot was shrunk in his body, but he had the stoicism of his calling; the Archbishop of Capua had fared better, given the man attending the oubliettes was easily bribed by the local clergy, but he was weak. When William asked after Osmond de Vertin that got a raised eyebrow.

‘Release him as well, and get a mendicant to look at him.’

They had to lift Osmond out, a stinking wreck soiled by his own filth, but a cot was arranged and when they left he was at least breathing in air that was less fetid than that to which he had been accustomed. Fed themselves, William and Drogo took possession of that gold crucifix and a heavy purse of Pandulf’s gold, and back on their mounts, leading the old Abbot on a palfrey, to the good wishes of their confrères, they made their way out of the fortress and across the old Roman bridge that led north.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Approaching the imperial encampment on the River Sacco brought back to William the experience they had had in the Vexin – that stench on the breeze of too many humans and horses in too small a space – only this host was greater than that assembled by Duke Robert. The hillsides were studded with pavilions, each with its own huge armorial banner – the imperial levies, both foot and mounted, encamped over miles of landscape, but again there was no doubt as to where the power lay. The massive imperial tent lay at the centre of what a Roman would have recognised as a triumphal way, surrounded by huge flags that bore the Salian device of a standing black griffin on a yellow background.

William and Drogo led the old Abbot towards the centre of the camp, soldiers standing to observe them
as they passed. Odd, not one of them would know this elderly divine, bent with age, but somehow they saw in his person and his simple black Benedictine habit a man of holiness, and many crossed themselves, some even dropping on one knee. Others looked at the de Hauteville brothers, and judged them by a different standard.

William had talked with Theodore on the way, and had been impressed by the old man’s concern, which was not for his own person – though he was glad to be at liberty – but for his monastery and the monks that had once inhabited the buildings and worked the farms, now scattered to the four winds and driven to living in penury by the depredations of Pandulf. William and Drogo had met a lot of monks and friars in their time, not all of them good men; this abbot was the exception.

Outside the great pavilion, the brothers helped the old man off his palfrey. By the time he was on the ground and steadied, a whole host of mailed men had emerged to observe this, including in the centre a striking-looking fellow of stocky build and greying hair, wearing a bright-yellow surcoat with a griffin device to match the fluttering ensigns. It was him William addressed.

‘Sire, we bring you the Abbot of Montecassino.’

‘Abbot Theodore,’ said Conrad, coming forward to embrace the old man, ‘I am glad to see you well.’

‘Your Highness.’

The reply was weak, as was the speaker. Even although the imperial host, hogging the River Sacco as a source of water and supply, had moved closer to Capua, it had been a long journey; riding for hours was tiring for a fit man and it had exhausted him.

‘Come inside and rest. You must eat, you must drink, and you must tell me what Pandulf has been up to and what I must do to put it right.’

Theodore waved a feeble hand towards the de Hauteville brothers. ‘Then, sire, you need to talk with the men who brought me here, for what is needed is the stuff of conflict, and I am a man of peace.’

Conrad looked beyond the abbot to the brothers, standing, hands on their sword hilts, eyeing them up. Neither wore a helmet, so that their colouring could be seen, and that branded them as Normans, while their red and black surcoats identified them as mercenaries serving Rainulf Drengot.

‘They come with good in their hearts.’

‘That will be an unusual thing for a Norman,’ Conrad said.

Drogo bridled, as he always did when he perceived an insult, but it was William who replied.

‘To a Norman that sounds odd on Frankish lips, sire, given we have had scant reason to extend our trust to them.’

The way the men around Conrad stiffened, each no doubt a great lord in their own domain, implied danger, which had Drogo taking a firmer grip of the hilt of his sword. The emperor was indeed of that descent, from his sires as Dukes of Franconia, but it was an inheritance few referred to.

‘However,’ William continued, ‘we did not come here to trade low opinions.’

‘Why did you come?’

‘To inform you of what progress Guaimar of Salerno made with the Lord of Aversa.’

‘And where is Guaimar?’

‘With his sister, staying as a guest of Rainulf.’

‘Hostages?’

‘I said guests, Highness,’ William responded, in a sharp and disrespectful tone. ‘If they were hostages I would have termed them so.’

‘It does not do to show arrogance to my title.’

‘Hear them,’ the Abbot wheezed, ‘I beg you. No more blood should be spilt.’

‘Very well, Theodore, for you I will talk with them.’ He made a peremptory gesture that had their horses taken from them. ‘Leave your weapons outside.’

William nodded, Conrad being unarmed, and removed his sword and knife, Drogo doing likewise. The emperor spun on his heel, taking the abbot’s bony arm to help him along and, removing a small sack off their horse, the brothers followed them into the
tent, the courtiers at their heels regarding them with deep suspicion. On a great square table lay maps of the country surrounding Capua, and on another table stood a model of Pandulf’s castle, the river and the bridge, made of wood.

‘They are frantically repairing the walls,’ William said, pointing at the model. ‘This is more complete than the real article.’

‘You came from Capua?’

‘We stopped there to collect the Abbot Theodore.’

‘Nothing else?’

William opened the sack and took out the gold crucifix, placing it on the map. ‘Prince Pandulf bade us make you an offer to secure peace…’

‘You will waste your breath in doing so,’ Conrad interrupted, ignoring the object and looking once more at the old divine. ‘His crimes are too great.’

‘…of three hundred pounds of gold.’

It was telling how much that amounted to; every one of these noble magnates attending the emperor was bound to be rich, but to a man they gasped at the mention of such a sum. Even Conrad, who had more self-control, was clearly impressed. He picked up the crucifix and examined it.

‘He has that much to offer me, a sum I would struggle to match?’

‘It is what he says he has, and knowing him I would believe it.’

‘What wrongs he must have afflicted on his fief to be so rich.’

‘We also persuaded Pandulf to release the Archbishop of Capua,’ Drogo said.

Conrad was looking at the old abbot, now seated and nodding, when he asked why.

‘So he could not use him for the purposes of bargaining.’

‘As if his gold is not enough,’ Conrad replied, then seeing the questioning look on Drogo’s face he added, ‘and it is not.’

William spoke again. ‘That is not the purpose of our coming here and we do not come as representatives of Pandulf or his money. If you take Capua you will take his gold. We come to offer you the support of the Lord of Aversa, on the terms agreed with Guaimar of Salerno.’

‘Leave us,’ Conrad said, abruptly, looking at his advisors. There was a certain amount of shuffling and confusion, not to mention affront, until they obeyed. Looking down at the abbot, he saw the old man had his head on his chest; he had fallen asleep. ‘Guaimar proposed what we agreed?’

‘He did.’

‘So Rainulf will stand aside?’

‘No, he will join with you.’

‘I do not need him to do that. If his force is not in the field I can easily besiege Pandulf.’

‘I know that, Conrad Augustus, but Rainulf will join you.’

‘Why?’

‘To have a say in any peace. Pandulf’s men are Normans and they are our brothers. We would not see them suffer for their service.’

‘They have taken Pandulf’s gold, perhaps they should experience his fate.’

‘What will that be?’

‘To be skinned alive in a public place perhaps, or to have his heart torn from his living body. Maybe he will be placed in a sack with a cat and a snake, then thrown into the nearest deep water. Whatever his fate the world will be rid of him for good.’

‘And your conscience will be clear.’

That brought forth a smile. ‘I am the anointed Holy Roman Emperor. My conscience is always clear.’

Conrad moved over to the table and looked at the maps, pointing the top of the crucifix he was still holding at the city. ‘It is always your way, you Normans. Whatever defeats others suffer you ride away. Perhaps it is time some of your kind learnt the harsh lesson of losing.’

‘What purpose would that serve?’ demanded Drogo.

‘As a warning.’

‘If you insist on such a lesson, Rainulf must oppose you. He will not stand by and see his confrères put to the sword.’

Drogo had to avoid looking at William; this was another gambit which had not been discussed with him, indeed he wondered if William had just made it up. But he could see where it led; the effect would be obvious. Conrad would be anticipating a siege of Capua, no easy prospect, while Pandulf was clearly, judging by the supplies he was garnering, preparing to hold out for a year.

He still thought he had the support of Rainulf, a force it would be wise to keep out in the field, one that could seriously disrupt the imperial host in both siege maintenance and, more importantly, in foraging. Every party sent out would have to be strong enough to face ambush from a Norman force that, challenged by superior numbers, would melt into the mountains and draw off men from Capua. That would extend the time it would take to subdue the place; could the emperor stay long enough to enforce his will?

Many a siege had been abandoned because it just went on too long. Those inside a fortress might be reduced to near starvation, but the men outside faced just as many difficulties, not least the threat of disease which always seemed to affect a host which stayed too long in one place. In any case, holding an army together was no easy task: tempers frayed, supporters became fractious and rationing became more and more troublesome.

But let Pandulf see Rainulf ride as a friend into
Conrad’s camp and he would know his cause was lost. Without an external enemy the imperial army could forage far and wide, send away detachments to ease the supply and disease problems without fear that they would be attacked and decimated. And it was obvious that the emperor, thinking on the same subject, and studying that model of the formidable fortress he needed to take, would of necessity come to the same conclusions.

Conrad actually did that. He moved to stand by that wooden model, his finger tracing the various difficulties Capua represented. Pandulf had to be chastised, but how many men would expire to achieve such a need, and what of the possibility, one any sensible commander had to consider, of failure? If he could not show his power to chastise in Campania, the whole of the imperial domains in Italy could be affected; many a noble lord between Rome and the Brenner Pass would think he too could defy the emperor.

‘And what happens to these men?’

‘Many originally served with Rainulf. Let them do so again.’

‘That is a bargain fraught with danger. Did you discuss this with Guaimar?’

‘No.’

‘Then let me speak for him, for I can tell you what he would say. He will be Duke of Salerno and Prince of Capua, but he would not be happy to have in his midst
a host of Norman lances powerful enough to depose him any time they wish, which would be after I am no longer there to protect him.’ He looked down at the still-slumbering abbot, and added. ‘I doubt Theodore, saintly as he is, would welcome that either.’

The implications of that were obvious. Montecassino, given the wealth its lands produced, was a tempting objective for hundreds of idle men who had already tasted its riches.

‘Rainulf expressly did not take part in the destruction of the monastery and he will not do so in future. You no doubt find the idea of a Norman and piety incompatible, but it is there nevertheless. Make Guaimar liege lord to Rainulf, confirm Rainulf as Count of Aversa, and I will guarantee he will serve him faithfully.’

‘You?’

‘Rainulf listens to William.’

The look Conrad gave Drogo showed how unconvincing he felt that to be.

‘Rainulf,’ William insisted, ‘does not need me to tell him of his duty to a suzerain.’

‘Is that the same duty he had exercised with Pandulf, to whom he has been loyal these past years? To this I cannot agree.’

‘What if, after you were gone, there were no Normans in Aversa?’ asked William.

Drogo actually growled then; he was getting
fed up with his brother doing things on the wing, strategies of which he knew nothing, so that he felt like a fool. What Conrad said next did, however, make him wonder if his brother had the mind of the Devil.

‘If you’re going to ask me for Pandulf’s three hundred pounds of gold so that you can go home…’

‘Not that,’ William interrupted, an act plainly not welcome by the target, as well as a response which deeply disappointed his own brother. ‘Rainulf has been sent an invitation by Constantinople to join the invasion of Sicily.’

‘It surprises me he did not go, given that is your Norman profession, fighting for pay.’

When William did not respond, Conrad looked at him and, after a moment’s thought, smiled, having deduced what fear had kept Rainulf in Aversa. Gone, Pandulf would have taken over his domains.

‘Spare the garrison of Capua, let them join with Rainulf, and we will all go south to Calabria.’

‘That will not last for ever.’

‘It could last for years, long enough for Guaimar to consolidate his position, and who knows what might be had in a rich land like Sicily? Many of us may never return.’