‘And the smuggling which goes on now?’
‘You have a sharp mind, as I suspected.’ Kasa Ephraim smiled. ‘We men are sinners, and when one sinner dies or is caught, another will take his place.’
‘So it will continue?’
‘Be assured it must continue, but also take my bond. It will not get worse and you too will find, should you come into your inheritance, that a flow of funds to do with what you wish can much enhance a man’s power with those he must command, but dare not trust.’
The prospect of the departure of William and Drogo from Hauteville-le-Guichard was, like all family partings, full of false emotion: brothers not travelling joking how much easier life would be without their pesky siblings, no mention that, in a dangerous world where God moved in mysterious ways, to say goodbye to anyone going on a journey could very easily be a final farewell. William and Drogo were just as bogus in their display of extreme confidence; they too knew that to travel five hundred leagues, even on busy pilgrimage routes, to a place where they could only hope they would be welcome, was a daunting prospect.
As if to underline the need to go, they were barely returned from service with Duke Robert, when their father’s second wife, the Lady Fressenda, was delivered of another boy child. Geoffrey de Montbray baptised him with the name Roger as soon as it was seen he would live, and, true to the family trait, he cried as lustily as all his seniors when his head was ducked in the church font. He too, God willing, would grow to impressive manhood.
The celebrations attending that event were only slightly marred by the proposed venture; neighbours came and admired the addition to the family, then drank too much of the contents of the family flagons; Tancred took his ribbing as an uncontrollable satyr in good heart until the impending expedition of his two eldest, combined with his consumption of an excess of apple wine, reduced him to maudlin tears.
That duty seen to, they had to be equipped for the journey, choosing the best horses with which to travel. Apart from their own destriers that they had trained from the foal, they needed not the swift coursers that had carried them to the battle, but mounts known for their good health and robust constitution. Pledges had to be made to certain people in Coutances, a promise of future produce from the demesne to gain in advance some more coin, this added to the little that the family itself could provide.
Each would take two extra packhorses laden with sea salt extracted from the pans the family maintained on the Normandy shoreline three leagues from their home, a good source of estate revenue and a very tradable commodity on the route they would travel: a peck of good salt was worth a meal in a land where it was scarce. The horses, once their loads had been used, could, if they were still fit animals, be traded for sustenance or a money payment.
A destination was another decision to be made and that involved much questioning of those who had returned from Italy and others who had any knowledge or connections there. In this, Geoffrey of Montbray, with his clerical associations, was most useful. The Church of Rome had a way of disseminating information denied to mere laymen: priests and monks travelled to and from Rome, and papal envoys traversed the whole of the known Christian world carrying the messages and strictures of the various popes.
There were Norman forces in every part of Southern Italy, but the most successful seemed to be a knight from Alencon called Rainulf Drengot. He was no longer just a mercenary, but had acquired land as well, a heady prospect to the two young men intent on travelling, for they were not immune to the idea that they could gain glory as well as money in that fabled land said to have streets paved with gold.
Besides, Drengot would be the leader of the first Norman band they would encounter so it made sense to try there first. If he had no need of their services they could continue on to the Byzantine fiefdom of Apulia. At worst, their swords could be put to the defence of Calabria from the raids of the Sicilian Saracens. It never occurred to them that they would not find employment: Norman ability was too highly prized!
It was late autumn, bordering on winter, before all was in place. The morning they were due to depart William went to look out, for the last time, over the land that was still his to inherit, his mind whirling with thoughts. His brother was wiser and had declined to join him, insisting no good would come from standing in the freezing cold when there was a blazing fire in the hall.
The manor house, which was home to them both, stood at the top of the highest hill for leagues around, and from there Tancred could look over his demesne with a clearer eye at this time of year than most others. The abundant trees had lost most of their leaves and the higher branches were still white from the morning frost that clung to them. Trails of smoke rose from the homes of the tenants and serfs, who at this time of year were more concerned with gathering wood for their fire than farming.
The rolling landscape trended away in all directions, west to the coast, further south of that to the see of Coutances. Eastward lay the more settled and richer part of Normandy, the towns of Caen and Rouen, with their markets and multitudes, places William had visited but where he was never truly comfortable. To the north the de Hauteville land bordered on the extensive de Montfort domains, and in his mind’s eye, for it was too far off to be visible, he could see the high, round, stone donjon of the kind which his father so envied.
It took only a glance to his left to see that which he wished to replace, the earthen mound atop which was a wooden tower and palisade. From there you could see more of the land; it was designed not for that but for the observation of approaching danger and defence from troublesome neighbours and others, like the piratical raiders of the offshore islands, ever bent on mischief.
Not wishing to go indoors, he plodded through the mud and climbed the slippery wooden treads to the heavy tower gate and, entering the circular edifice, went still further to stand on the stoop that overlooked the spiked tree trunks of the palisade. He had been standing there a while, he knew not how long, when the deep voice surprised him.
‘I brought you your cloak.’
Engrossed, he had not heard Tancred approach, and realising how cold he had become he gratefully accepted the heavy deer hide garment he had brought.
‘The prospect of the journey troubles you?’
‘Leaving this place troubles me. I have known little else.’
‘You know I pray you will return.’
For a man not given to emotion, unless drunk, that was as close as Tancred was ever going to get to saying how much he loved his eldest son. And William knew what hopes he had harboured: of a day when a de Hauteville, he most of all, would be the man chosen to ride at the right hand of a Duke of Normandy, the man their liege lord trusted to command his familia knights.
‘Duke Robert must be well on his way to Jerusalem,’ William said.
‘I fear he has much for which to ask forgiveness,’ Tancred replied.
That had, in discussion, led to the conclusion that the rumoured murder of his brother must have some truth in it. Robert, a man not known for excessive piety, going all the way to Jerusalem, hinted at such a grave sin.
‘Can God forgive a transgression of that magnitude?’
‘Your cousin of Montbray would tell you He can.’
‘And you, Father?’
‘All I know is this. It would break my heart and my beliefs if it happened with any of my sons.’
‘And when Duke Robert returns?’
‘Pray God he marries and breeds an heir, for if that boy William succeeds him, even if he is grown to manhood, it will not go without challenge.’
‘From us.’
‘No. I could no more take up arms against the wishes of my liege lord than do so against my own sons. I respected his father too much and I gave my word when in his service to be loyal to them always. But others will.’
‘You will be asked, as I would if I were here. Our connection to the ruling house is too well known.’
Below, they could see the family servants leading out the already laden packhorses, which gave Tancred a good excuse not to answer. He pulled from inside his jerkin a small folded piece of cloth and pressed it on his son. There was no need to explain what it was — the blue and white colours identified it as the de Hauteville lance pennant.
‘I hope and pray one day you will go into battle under this, our family standard. Now, let us go down. The time has come for you to be on your way.’
