Warriors (21 page)

‘You will accompany me even if I have to lash you to a litter,’ said William. ‘I will not be embarrassed before the emperor by your absence.’

‘And I suppose your little shepherd girl will be taken along to provide you comfort?’ Berengara responded, her voice, as it always was, dripping with bile. ‘There will be no embarrassment there, I think.’

‘If you refuse me comfort—’

‘Do not pretend you would not use us both in a like manner if I allowed it.’

‘I will use you as I have the right to as your husband.’

‘Then make sure we do not pass a monastery, for if I have the chance I will escape and slam the doors behind me.’

‘Which I will burn down.’

‘Not because you value me.’

‘Bear me sons and I will leave you in peace.’

‘Any son I bear you I would strangle at birth.’

‘This is futile,’ William yelled. ‘Make yourself ready for the journey, and when we get into the company of the emperor hold your tongue or, believe me, you will make the return journey in a penitent shroud and bare feet, lashed to a rope that will be tied to my horse’s tail.’

William would have been surprised if, having stormed out of the chamber, he had returned moments later: Berengara was in floods of tears, for this was not the life she had imagined for herself.

‘I cannot take you with me, little one.’

William felt the head lying in the crook of his shoulder jerk, but Tirena did not sob, as he feared she might, even when they were upright and facing each other, but she made no secret of her unhappiness, which made him feel wretched. Nor did he really want to explain to her that he must, in the imperial presence, behave properly, for there was much at stake. This Henry was reputed to be a principled fellow much taken with prayer and confession, not long wed, who might take a dim view of someone attending upon him in the company of an obvious concubine.

How different it was when he was with this girl. She made him laugh, she made him happy and she brought out in him a love of the bawdy, a side of his character he kept hidden from even his own brothers,
who saw him as somewhat dour. Had she been of the right blood he would have wed her in an instant, not least because she so wanted to please him, a feeling he had to be guarded about reciprocating.

William actually fretted about raising her hopes: the girl knew his marriage was far from blissful, just as she knew it was not based on affection. He realised that one day, even if it would render him miserable, he might have to send her away: should fortune favour him with an heir, he would not raise the boy in close proximity to such an evident mistress. She would never starve: he would help her to find a husband and provide for any children she had, and he reassured himself the course he had in mind was the right one; but would he not be as miserable as she?

The ride into Capua, from his tented encampment, on the day appointed for the synod, brought back many memories, not least that in this locality Normans were not loved: the looks they received from the population as they made their way from city gates to the castle left them in no doubt that time had not abated the fear Capuans had of these blond, blue-eyed warriors. Then it had been just him and Drogo, now it was all six of the brothers de Hauteville: even Robert was in his entourage, riding alongside the litter in which sat Berengara, the drapes firmly closed.

But there were other memories, more pleasant: it
was here he had ceased to merely be a mercenary lance without patrimony and had become, or so he thought, heir to the County of Aversa. He had ridden up to the gates of the twin barbicans of the castle he was now approaching as an imperial messenger, to demand its surrender. Now he was coming to it as a warlord in his own right, older and, he hoped, wiser.

The walls and gate were manned by imperial troops, Swabians by the look of their accoutrements and speech, who demanded to know his name and title before allowing him admission to the inner keep, this accompanied by suspicious looks at the powerful escort of fifty lances William had fetched along. From there, once dismounted, the senior members of the party made their way to the great hall he had visited so often in the past, in more disordered times.

Guaimar was already present in all his pomp, as was the Abbot of Montecassino, who looked daggers at them, as he would at any Norman, while on a dais sat two men. One, young and fresh of face he took to be Henry, the other, given his pontifical garb and his great age, undoubtedly the Pope. Rainulf was standing by the aisle, with a stalwart-looking young fellow by his side who William suspected might be his nephew, Richard, news of whose arrival from Normandy had filtered through to Melfi. Clearly, if it was, and given his presence at such a gathering, he already had the ear and trust of his uncle.

The Dukes of Naples and Gaeta were identified by the gonfalons retainers held over their heads, proud men and Lombards, owners of their own fiefs, who nevertheless knew they held their titles by imperial favour, and it was telling the distance that existed between them and Guaimar, whom they knew to be ambitious that Salerno, having subsumed Amalfi, should surpass them as the greatest trading port of their shared coast. To these lords he was a constant threat, having, as he did, Rainulf’s still-numerous Normans at his beck and call.

The surprise of the gathering, in fact no less than a shock, only revealed itself after they had made their bows to the dais and been welcomed by the emperor. Standing to one side, partially hidden, stood Pandulf, the one time Prince of Capua, the man known as the Wolf of the Abruzzi, in what had been his own great hall, this before he had been deposed. Hasty questioning of the others, gathered as they retired, revealed the truth: if the release of George Maniakes from his dungeon had been one of the Emperor Constantine’s little surprises on his accession to the purple, this was another, potentially equally troubling. Pandulf had been freed and sent home, in the certain knowledge that he was bound to cause trouble among his fellow Lombards, which could only benefit the Byzantine cause.

‘So, William de Hauteville,’ Pandulf said, having
made his way through the throng to sidle up to a man he had once tried to recruit, the very fellow who had seen to it he lost his title. ‘I find myself addressing a very different fellow. You have risen in the world.’

The Wolf had aged, hardly surprising for a man who had spent years in a Byzantine oubliette; at one time darkly handsome, he was now drawn-looking and his black hair was streaked with grey, but the dark, dancing eyes were the same as was the voice, one which William knew to be silky and insincere, but also one which wove a spell on the uninitiated, which seemed to be able to embrace and render congenial whichever person he was addressing. And there was the smile as well, slightly crooked.

‘And you, Pandulf, have risen from the dead.’

‘If it were not blasphemous, I would compare myself to Christ.’

‘I do not recall that you feared blasphemy or damnation,’ said Drogo.

Pandulf ignored that remark, looking past Drogo and his brothers to Berengara, the eyebrows lifting and the smile broadening in mock wonder. ‘And you have taken as wife the beautiful Berengara, William. How I envy you such a prize.’

There was mockery in those words: Pandulf was the kind to ferret out gossip and he was telling him that he knew very well how troubled was that particular relationship, just as William knew they were meant
to rile him. All his life he had reacted to people who attempted that with a slight smile, one which hinted at an interior superiority. Generally it infuriated the recipient; there was great pleasure in seeing it work on Pandulf now, but the question still remained: how had he got to this place at this time? Being set free by Constantine was one thing, being invited to a synod set up by the Emperor of the West quite another.

That he had charmed this new emperor was later obvious and not wholly surprising: he had done the same to this young man’s predecessor until his depredations had forced Conrad to act. When called forward to speak, admitting his previous errors and seeking forgiveness, Henry listened intently. William just had to look at the face of Guaimar of Salerno to know how badly he took the re-emergence of the man he held to be his greatest enemy.

The Abbot of Montecassino looked as if he would happily forgo his vows and commit murder to be rid of a man who made the Normans appear like saints. It was hard for Rainulf too, for he was in the presence, not only of an abbot who gladly would list his sins for an imperial ear, but also of two magnates he had at one time, and in turn, betrayed, while he was about to kneel before the only man who could legitimately strip him of his title for the activities of the men he led.

But whatever Guaimar and Rainulf felt paled beside that of Berengara, who for once spoke to William in a
voice not dripping with hate for him, her gaze fixed intently on Pandulf.

‘Kill that man, cut out his living heart, and I will give myself to you willingly, and perhaps bear you the child you desire.’

Robert de Hauteville replied, not William, in a voice too loud, as usual. ‘You have asked the wrong person, Lady Berengara. If you want someone killed you should have asked me.’

Before either she or William could respond to that, Henry stood, and looking out over the assembly at the many armorial devices which identified each grouping, his face creased with curiosity. ‘Where is the Prince of Benevento?’

Someone, a court official no doubt, responded in the negative, which produced a look of anger and a voice to match. ‘Not yet here on the appointed day! Send messengers to seek him out. He is my vassal and he should be in attendance.’

The voice that responded was so soft it was difficult to hear, but the words were much repeated afterwards, as the newly elected Pope Clement leant across and reminded the emperor, and not entirely to his liking, that in strict truth Benevento was a papal fief, not an imperial one. 

Emperor Henry III, looking out over the assembled gathering, was not happy and he had good reason: there was not one person present who did not give him concern, and one still absent that made him furious. Added to that, every voice he heard, be it in private or public, was committed to condemnation of the actions of another.

A nobleman from Amalfi, dispossessed by Guaimar and lucky to still be breathing following the sack of that place, denied the piracy of which that city state was accused, in turn condemning the other trading ports for secretly undermining imperial edicts regarding fair trade and tariffs. But these people never did anything other than curse each other, making it difficult for a distant and German-based overlord to sort claim from counterclaim.

But there was no doubt they all shared one thought: Salerno was the real problem. They were sure the ruler of that city, with Amalfi already in his grasp, had continuing plans of conquest, which meant no one was safe. Henry had the power to reverse that, to force Guaimar to give up Amalfi, but would that be wise? Guaimar was undoubtedly ambitious and there was no knowing where that would lead. He needed to be checked but it would not be good policy to humiliate him.

The idea of an independent king ruling in South Italy, wherever he sprang from, was not one to appeal and the outlines of such a polity seemed to be taking shape. Not content with Amalfi, Guaimar had self-appointed himself to Byzantine Apulia and then gone on to grant land and titles to the Normans who were once in his pay: the emperor had no idea of how much those mercenaries led by William de Hauteville owed to him in return, and that he needed to establish.

Rainulf he was sure of: Guaimar’s vassal in Campania was seemingly under his thumb, but he was out of control on the edge of those domains, nothing more than the leader of a marauding gang of robbers sucking the wealth out of church lands, and despite his recent troubles he still mustered an impressive force; combine those two bands of mercenary warriors under Guaimar’s leadership and they would be a power that even the whole might of the empire would struggle to contain.

Prince Landulf of Benevento would be at risk as well as the rival ports, but when it came to what they had done in Apulia they did not garner much imperial sympathy. Landulf had been just as ambitious and duplicitous as Guaimar in support of revolt, with the appointment of his brother and the subsequent encouragement of Argyrus, and where had that led? Worse, despite a clear summons, he had yet to appear, and that bordered on an affront to his imperial majesty, one which would definitely have to be dealt with.

Henry knew two things: that Lombard rivalry, while troublesome, was less of a concern than that one of these magnates should rule over the rest, because they were not the kind to ever be content with what they held. Given power over the whole south they would next be at the Papal States and the imperial fiefs to the north. He also knew that whatever dispensations he made in this part of Italy must somehow hold once he had departed, which had to be soon. He could not afford to be away from Bamberg too long.

What he required was not continued turmoil but a balance of power that left everyone dependent upon imperial endorsement and one which would not drag him into conflict with his fellow emperor in Byzantium. The idea of forcing the inhabitants of Apulia to resubmit to Constantinople was an attractive one in terms of keeping the peace, but it
was also impractical: his writ ran even less in that part of Italy.

Given the day had been taken up with ceremony, his decisions had been postponed till the morrow, which allowed for much intrigue as those who sought imperial favour attempted to bribe Henry’s officials. It also gave time for those who felt themselves in some way threatened to seek allies with which to fend off the emperor’s wrath. Guaimar definitely felt at risk: the good relationship he had enjoyed with the previous emperor had not been carried over; if anything, he suspected he was perceived as a disturber of the peace, so he sought the support of William de Hauteville, needing to speak quietly in a doorless antechamber.

‘We must stand strong in the face of the emperor.’

‘He is not yet my emperor, Prince Guaimar.’

‘I am his vassal, you are mine.’

‘Only when Henry confirms us both in our Apulian titles. If you are not Duke…’

The rest of that sentence had no need to be completed, and judging by the look on Guaimar’s face he thought what had just been said to be a real possibility. William was more sanguine about his own future, because he held the ground: not only Melfi and the country around, but Troia too, now that his fellow Normans had joined him. In numbers, his lances had risen to some fifteen hundred: he was powerful enough to fear no one. Certainly he desired his title to be
confirmed but he was not prepared to give up any part of his recent gains to get it.

‘How much do you trust Rainulf, William?’

‘I think that question is more important to you than to me.’

‘Pandulf free is unsettling, and what is he doing here at this imperial gathering? He has fooled Henry and he could have Rainulf’s ear, as he has had in the past, and whatever he says will not be to the benefit of either you or I.’

Guaimar had not been the first one to visit him: Pandulf had that honour, seeking in near whispers to enlist William’s support against both Rainulf and Salerno, with much gold on offer if he agreed. Never one to needlessly deny a possibility, William had merely demurred, but he did wonder if Pandulf knew him at all. Much as he had come to dislike Rainulf, he would do anything in his power to avoid fighting his own kind, for the very simple reason that it would be a bloodbath in which the only people to gain would be the Lombards.

Now Guaimar was at the same game! They were both as bad as the other, weaving what they saw as their spells as if those they were addressing lacked any insight. Guaimar did not seem to be able to discern that William was no longer acting as his proxy: he was acting for himself and his family. Pandulf, likewise, saw him still as a mercenary to be bought.
So wrapped up in their own dreams were they, neither could see how the power to decide had passed from their hands, so he listened to Guaimar as he had listened to Pandulf, without commitment.

That they should call upon him was to be expected: both were jockeying for imperial favour and afraid of censure from the same source. Rainulf had the same dilemma, but his calling was a surprise, and it was immediately clear to William that his presence in his chamber was due to the young man he brought with him, who did indeed turn out to be his nephew. In fact, it was young Richard who did the talking.

‘My uncle fears that one of these Lombards will seek to use us against the other.’

William had to wonder who had visited them before they came to him, just as he had cause to conclude that if they had been called upon by Pandulf or Guaimar then this Richard had immediately seen the risks and so the need to consult with him. It must have taken a strong argument to get his uncle to come anywhere near a de Hauteville.

Looking straight at Rainulf, William replied. ‘I do not know if I have the words to reassure him.’

Richard responded, while Rainulf’s purple face closed up in disdain. ‘I think it best to ask you to consider what purpose would be served by such an action.’

‘I think you will find, should anyone suggest such a
thing, I would come to the same conclusion as you.’

‘It has not, then, been proposed?’

William just smiled: this fellow seemed shrewd enough to guess the truth, so there was no need for it to be said out loud. ‘We have little to fear. Your uncle has his County of Aversa and numerous lances, I have my men and my aims in Apulia.’

‘The emperor could strip me of that,’ Rainulf growled.

‘To what purpose, Rainulf, and if he did, who is going to take it from you?’

‘We both know,’ Richard replied, ‘that you are the only one who can certainly do so. Henry’s escort of Swabians is not enough and Guaimar would need allies to try.’

‘You have my word, I have no interest in Aversa.’

Rainulf made no effort to moderate his tone. ‘Can we believe you?’

‘We have no choice, Uncle,’ said Richard, looking William right in the eye.

The sudden appearance of a servant at the chamber entrance had William flicking his eyes to look past this youth. ‘His Imperial Highness requests that you attend upon him.’

‘Tell him I would be honoured to do so, just as soon as I have finished with my guests.’

‘There’s nothing more to say,’ barked Rainulf.

‘No,’ William replied, ‘there is not.’

‘You have not asked us for any pledge,’ said Richard.

‘It would be meaningless.’ Seeing the youngster’s face change, for the first time showing anger, William added, ‘But I see you as a person of sense and I hope you see me in the same light. As long as your uncle has you to advise him, as I once did, I doubt either of us has anything to fear.’

William left them standing there and went out of the arched doorway, immediately aware of his brother Robert leaning against the wall. ‘Have you been listening?’

‘I have,’ Robert replied. ‘You said I have much to learn, so I am doing that.’

‘And?’

‘What you said in there, as regards Aversa, might not hold for ever.’

‘Not much does hold for ever in this part of the world, Robert. If you wish to learn, learn that!’

‘I have no idea how to style you,’ said Henry, as William gave him half a bow. ‘I am not yet minded to greet you with the title Prince Guaimar granted to you.’

There were many courteous ways this emperor could have greeted him. In choosing those words he had deliberately sought to diminish William, and not being prepared to accept that, his response was brusque.

‘Then we share a dilemma, sire. Given what you
have said, my suzerain is not you, it is the Duke of Normandy.’

That had the emperor looking at those around him, his own courtiers, all military men by their bearing, as well as the armed Swabian guards present, with raised eyebrows, as if he was shocked. ‘Conrad told me, when he returned to Germany many years ago, you de Hautevilles were a proud lot. Too proud perhaps.’

‘No more so, I suspect, than was he. I think it necessary in a warrior to be that.’

There was a definite prod in that: Conrad Augustus had proved himself in battle; this Henry was yet to do so and William knew by the emperor’s piqued expression he had struck home.

‘The question is, William de Hauteville, is what am I to do about you?’

‘Are you asking me to advise you?’

‘No!’

‘Then I am at a loss to know how to respond.’

Henry waved an arm towards his Swabian guards. ‘You get above yourself. I am the elected head of the Holy Roman Empire and I am unaccustomed to being so addressed by a mere mercenary.’

‘Something more than that now, I think.’

‘You are nothing, William de Hauteville, so much so that one word from me and these men who guard my honour will cut you down.’

That really got under William’s skin, and his reply
was a hiss. ‘If they do you will never see Germany again.’

The emperor’s response was a bark. ‘You threaten me?’ When William gave him that knowing, superior smile it was just as effective on him. ‘Do not smirk in my presence. Do you not know to whom you speak?’

‘As of this moment, you are a young man who is not even beginning to achieve that which you set out to do, which is to get me to beg on my own behalf, and that of my family, that the titles we have been given should be confirmed. You wish me to plead. If any of these men who advise you have the courage to voice the truth, they will tell you I have no need to do so.’

‘And if I declare you an enemy?’

‘That is your right, yet I have taken nothing from you. Everything I have was once the property of Byzantium. I can, however, give you Apulia, by acknowledging you as my imperial suzerain.’

‘And Guaimar of Salerno, what of him?’

‘He is already your vassal, do with him what you will.’

‘Am I to take it you will not support him?’

‘You could have asked me that at the start of this conversation, so now I will answer the questions you should have posed, the ones which concern you, to which I would have responded with the truth.’

‘I think I must judge whether someone is being truthful.’

‘Then take it as you will. I owe Guaimar nothing, even if I am wed to his sister, and I will not pledge the men I lead to any enterprise you fear he may have in mind. I will not, either, combine with Rainulf Drengot and the lances he leads on any imperial fief.’

‘Easily said, and just as easily denied.’

‘Then listen to this. Neither will I stand aside, and nor will my family, if he is threatened. It is not for the love of Rainulf but because I will not see my fellow Normans put to the sword, and I have good grounds to feel they would treat me likewise. Understand that if you threaten one of us you threaten us all. Now that you know my mind, you may make up your own, and I will await whatever your pleasure is.’