The forward piquet saw them first, just as the sun was setting, and alerted William so he could ride forward and observe, in the gathering gloom, a distant army marching in several columns over a broad front, men to the fore, a sizeable herd of donkeys, mules and probably camp followers to the rear, the only mounted men seeming to be those in positions of command, which cheered him: he would face no cavalry force. It was impossible to tell from this distance the state of their morale, but they could not be less than weary given the ground they had been obliged to cover in the last few days and the fact that they had just had to ford a river, which however narrow a watercourse it was, would make them wet; they were in for an uncomfortable night.
In reality, they should not still be coming on at this time of day: most armies would have camped on the far riverbank and crossed in the morning. Looking up William saw that the sky was clear and the moon, rising slowly, was three-quarters full, which, given the mass of stars to aid it, would bathe the landscape in sufficient light to see. Surely the catapan was not going to march on in the hours of darkness? If he had that in mind, it was time to disabuse him.
‘Back to the main body,’ he said to a man at his side. ‘Tell them to get those fires lit and blazing, all of them, right along the skyline. Let them see their way is blocked and in force.’
Signalling to the rest of the forward party, he had them ride up until they were lined along the crest, in time for their silhouette to catch the last dying light of the now invisible sun, but distance and gloom meant William had no idea if they had been observed. To their rear the first of the fires began to glow, bright orange flames and sparks rising into the increasingly dark sky from a hill higher than that on which they sat.
There they stayed until all that was left was the moon and stars, when slowly, William turned his horse’s head and led his men back to the main body. There, dividing them into three, he set one battaile on foot, out ahead of those fires to protect the camp, with the flanking sentinels told to keep their eyes peeled to ensure the Byzantines made no attempt to slip round their flanks. The rest were obliged to sleep in hauberks, with arms and helmets close by, given he had no intention of being surprised. The horses, now rested, were saddled; everything that could be done had been done, so an exhausted Norman commander could himself lie down and close his eyes.
‘Rider approaching.’
The dawn had come up with no sign of movement, yet William knew that the catapan had halted on the other side of the opposite hill and made camp, where smoke from the mass of cooking fires drifted lazily into the morning sky, and that could only be because he knew he had failed in his initial aim. The question remained, however, as to what he would do next, and the sight of the lone horseman approaching was, in part, likely to provide some kind of answer.
‘No armour,’ said Drogo, ‘but handsome silks.’
That was plain to all the de Hautevilles, lined up alongside William, helmets on, swords out and stuck in the ground before them, shields on their arm, the purpose to look as warlike as possible. It was certainly in contrast to this gaudily clad messenger, a slim fellow of medium height in splendid blue garments of varying hues, with long black hair, and eyes over a slightly hooked nose, a feature which he looked down with disdain as he reined in his mount and spoke.
‘I seek the leader of your band,’ he said in Greek.
‘Do you speak Latin?’ asked William. When the envoy nodded, it was requested he speak in that language: the two older de Hautevilles had some Greek, but the recent arrivals had none. The request was repeated.
‘He should dismount,’ growled Humphrey, his face plainly angry even if little of it was visible. ‘It shows a lack of respect to address us from the back of his horse.’
‘I think the quantity of lances you see before you elevates us above a band.’
‘It does not exalt you enough to explain your presence in a Byzantine province.’
‘Which would matter if we felt the need to explain.’
‘Get off that horse, damn you,’ Humphrey barked, an outburst which clearly amused the rider, who smiled disdainfully.
‘To do so would be to imply that as the representative of the catapan, Michael Doukeianos, I am willing to treat with you as equals.’ That was followed by a snort and a snapped addition. ‘Which I am not.’
‘And neither, I suppose, is the catapan?’
‘Most certainly not.’
‘Probably too frightened to come himself,’ scoffed Drogo.
‘You have a message,’ William said, ‘deliver it.’
‘To you?’
‘To me, William de Hauteville, the leader of the Normans in Apulia.’
‘The catapan has been informed that you have illegally occupied his great castle at Melfi.’
‘He has good ears,’ said Drogo. ‘Or many spies.’
‘You are also at large in the domains for which he is responsible, which he takes as an act of war-’
‘Then he is blessed with wisdom,’ William interrupted. ‘For that is what it is.’
The messenger carried on as if William had not spoken. ‘You are required to depart these lands forthwith on pain of the most severe punishments.’
‘And if we refuse to go?’
The head went back slightly, as though the horseman had something untoward beneath his nose, and it was almost with a sneer he continued. ‘The catapan has good reason to believe you have been promised much in the way of reward for your illicit incursion, and he is conscious of the fact that you are mercenary warriors. In the spirit of Byzantium, which is known to be generous, he is prepared to pay to you, in gold, a sum sufficient to make up for what you feel you might lose, as long as you depart.’
‘But that would mean Michael Doukeianos knows what it is we want.’
‘What else but money?’ the envoy sniggered, his dark eyes narrowing. ‘What else do you Normans ever want?’
‘Respect!’ Humphrey yelled, stepping forward till he was right in front of the horse’s nose. ‘Enough to get off your damned horse and speak to us as equals.’
‘That would fly in the face of God’s purpose.’
William was about to point out, in a calm way, that insulting the men before him was not the job of an envoy and would hardly aid his task. He never got the chance. Humphrey’s mailed fist took the horse right between the eyes in a mighty blow that so stunned the animal it immediately dropped to the ground, poleaxed, taking the sniggering messenger with it. It was only by great good fortune that the fellow avoided one of his legs being trapped beneath it and crushed.
Throwing himself clear he hit the ground with a thud, and as he scrambled away from his unconscious horse, Humphrey grabbed him by the front of his silks and hauled him to his feet, pushing his nose guard right up against the fellow’s face.
‘Now you are where you belong. Learn, pig, never talk down to a Norman.’
When Humphrey let the fellow go, he nearly collapsed, so shaken was he by what had just occurred. The arrogant look had gone from his face to be replaced with one of complete shock. His mount was out cold, two stiff legs in the air, while it was clear the rider’s own pins were visibly trembling.
‘Hold him up, someone,’ said William. Mauger and Geoffrey stepped forward to stop him tumbling in a heap. ‘Now, you will go back to your master on a horse we will provide and tell him this. The way to Melfi is barred, and will stay barred by us. If he wishes to go there he must go through we Normans, which is not something that can be done without much bloodshed, and most of that will fall upon the men he has led here. Tell him to keep his bribe, for we do not want gold we can take at will in the future. He is free to withdraw to the coast and stay there, for this part of Apulia is no longer a fiefdom to Constantinople, it is Lombard. Is the message clear?’
The still-shaken envoy nodded.
‘Humphrey, fetch the poor fellow another horse.’
‘I’d make him walk, brother.’
William grinned. ‘Let us show Byzantium a courtesy they scarcely showed us.’
When the horse was brought forward, the fellow had to be helped to mount. Turning its head, Humphrey slapped it on the rump to get it going; the man on its back was still too much in a state of shock to get it moving himself.
