Apulian Lombards?
And what would happen if that were true? If he could not command his own levies — and he certainly would never command the likes of William de Hauteville or the Normans he led, if he was not trusted by Guaimar or his fellow Lombards — for what was he working, what ambition of his own was going to be fulfilled? The other objects on the table were his personal possessions: a bundle of clothing, including a heavy purse of gold, the contents of his now empty strongbox, the rewards he had garnered from his campaigning. Clothes he did not need, his new masters would see to that.
With a heavy heart, Arduin of Fassano stood up, picked up the leather purse and exited the villa through the terrace and gardens that led down to the harbour. The note lay still on the table, and that would tell all who wanted to know where he had gone, though he did wonder if they would reason out why. The boat he had been told to expect was waiting for him, and as soon as he climbed aboard the sail was lifted aloft on the mast and he headed out to sea, ready to accept from Byzantium the same kind of offer which had suborned Argyrus.
The news was not slow in coming to William, for the villa he occupied was only a stone’s throw from that of Arduin, and while his brothers were loud in their condemnation he was less so. Firstly, he felt unwell and lacked the energy to fulminate. But there was another reason: he alone had some inkling of what had prompted the Lombard’s flight. The question which occupied him was not that it had happened but what to do about it.
‘Find the trumpeter,’ he commanded, ‘and call an assembly. The men must be told.’
Hurriedly obeyed, the whole host, Norman and Lombard, was gathered by the time he exited the city gate, and he knew by the buzz of talk that news of Arduin’s betrayal had spread. There was no platform from which to address them so he clambered with some difficulty onto the embers of that siege tower, from where he could be seen by all, wondering, as he began to speak, if his voice would carry.
‘I do not have the silver tongue of Arduin-’ He had to stop then, the name made them react with boos, cries of shame and whistles and he had to wait some time till it died down. ‘But I do have one virtue: there is no chance that I will ever take Byzantine gold.’
‘That would depend on how much they were offering,’ he heard Humphrey, who was just below him, say.
‘I come here not to address the men I lead but to talk to you all. You have been thrice betrayed.’ More braying greeted that, and another pause was necessary, besides which he needed to take a firm grip on a protruding bit of burnt timber to steady himself. ‘So the time has come to find a leader who will never desert you.’
Drogo, as usual, was quicker to pick up what was needed than the others, and he stepped out and pulled out his sword, raising it in the air as he cried, ‘I follow William de Hauteville, my brother. Who will join with me?’
That the Normans reacted positively to that was only to be expected, and their yells, as well as their swords or lances, rent the air. What was less expected was the reaction of the men Arduin had recruited, and it was an indication of how far their leaders had fallen in their eyes that they, too, loudly acclaimed William as their leader, and in amongst the shouting he could hear there were voices vowing to follow no other.
‘There you are, Gill,’ Drogo shouted into his ear. ‘You have an army. All you need now is an enemy.’
‘Never fear, Drogo,’ William replied, his fist raised to accept the continuing acclamation. ‘There are many out there, and not just from the east.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The meeting Guaimar called at the castle of Melfi had nothing in common with that which he had held before at Montecchio in the previous year: that had been a muted affair. Now he was in Apulia in all his pomp, bringing along with him not only his court, but his wife and children, as well as his sister, an imposing caravanserai, and the summons for all the powerful people of the province to attend on him was just that: not couched as a request, but as an instruction they would disobey at their peril.
Rainulf, still troubled by the rebellion around Montecassino, had been summoned too, but the one person not asked to attend was the Prince of Benevento, who was brusquely informed that should he or his brother show themselves they risked both life and limb from their fellow Lombards, still incensed by the way the captured catapan, Basil Boioannes, had been sold back to Byzantium. Cunningly, Guaimar went out of his way to plant in men’s minds that he was responsible, too, for the defection of Arduin and Argyrus.
So they came again, the leading citizens of the towns and cities of Apulia, some travelling through lands still suffering the devastation visited upon it by George Maniakes, which stood as a reminder that caution was a policy best kept in reserve, and if they travelled knowing that Guaimar was intent on asserting some kind of authority, they also did so with the certainty of the need for their own independence.
The Normans of Troia had agreed to actively participate in the revolt, greeted, as they joined, by a less-than- fit William — his journey from Trani had been made in a litter. He had spent much time welcoming like-minded bands from all over South Italy, lances who had become aware that prosperity, if it were to be had, was to be found in Apulia. Given there had, over the course of the campaign, been a steady increase in the numbers of men William commanded, the Normans had grown to constitute a far more formidable and numerous force than that which had originally arrived in Melfi. More importantly, these warriors owed no allegiance to Rainulf Drengot and now outnumbered the men he had brought from Aversa.
After much feasting and talking over several days, which William pushed himself through on willpower, with the various delegates seeking allies or common positions, everyone who mattered was gathered in the great hall of the castle, the babble of noise deafening as it echoed off the bare stone walls. Guaimar had overseen the making of a high dais on which he could disport himself, dressed in silken garments with more than a hint of purple, a signal to all that he now saw himself as the overlord of all who had obeyed his ordinance. He wanted to look majestic, and he did, but when he finally imposed silence and sought to issue various edicts, he found he lacked the power to command: not one of the constituent bodies in the hall were prepared to just stand and allow themselves to be dictated to.
One by one they stated their objection to that which Guaimar was obviously seeking to impose: his own regal ambitions. Again the first to baulk were the port cities, with their mixed populations, who had no intention, individually or collectively, of dipping the knee to the Prince of Salerno, however he chose to style himself, nor did they wish to pay for Norman support.
They would look to their own walled defences to maintain themselves, and hire their own mercenaries, if need be, to protect their newly gained freedoms. Had one of their number not just seen off George Maniakes? It seemed pointless to seek to get them to agree that it had been the man’s ambition, not their efforts, which had sent him east.
Next came hostility from the Lombards of the inland towns and cities, where if they were not in a majority they formed the leading citizenry. Though the word ‘king’ was never mentioned, it was made plain by allusion that they had no desire to accept as sovereign a man who had stood aside from the fighting and all the losses of wealth and people that had entailed — an impostor, who had now come to claim the rewards.
William de Hauteville, the single most powerful person present, said nothing, and merely kept his own counsel, partly through a feeling of lassitude, but also from policy. Eventually, after much rancorous debate, Guaimar called for the meeting to be adjourned until the following day, and, plainly unhappy, stormed off to the part of the castle set aside for his use.
‘They must have an overlord,’ Guaimar shouted, vehemently yet safely, given he was in the company of his sister and the man he trusted most to advise him.
‘I suggest,’ said Kasa Ephraim, in his habitually calm manner, ‘they will not have anyone who styles themselves king.’
‘Is that not what we fought for?’ the prince replied, which led the Jew to wonder if he knew the meaning of the word ‘hypocrisy’. Not that he was troubled by the notion — it was the habit of princes — but if Guaimar thought in those terms, and worse still, spoke like that, he would only alienate those he was trying to persuade. ‘Do they not realise what we all have to gain by being united?’
‘Men see things from their own standpoint, honourable one.’
