Calling his envoy, he instructed him in what he had to do: to take a ship back to Amalfi, one which would sit in the harbour, its load of weaponry hidden in the holds, and prepare the city to rise up against their oppressors. He was then to find those well-born malcontents and get them out of the place. Once on their estates, they would be met by numerous and armed fellow Lombards who would aid them, as long as they equipped their own people to fight as well, the promise held out of the casting-off of the Salernian yoke. That they would be unaware of the hand of Byzantium in their task was all to the good.
Guaimar was an accessible prince, a man who did not fear to walk with a minimal escort through the streets of his city, nor was he excessive in the way he lived his life: he would not have Normans guarding the Castello di Arechi, a fact which went some way to mollify his sister, angry that he associated with them at all. Salerno was a teeming active port, a place hemmed in by hills but with a wide sweeping bay that left it open to cooling breezes, as well as the occasional hot African wind, and it was as wealthy now as it had ever been, with much building going on, some of it financed by its ruler.
Ships came in from all over the known world with silks, spices and valuable commodities, while from the Campanian hinterland the produce of the fertile province, capable of double harvests, flowed out: grain to feed the people of Rome, olive oil with which to cook and keep going the lights that allowed for life to continue when the sun set, fruit that grew in abundance in the orchards, and wood from the forested foothills of the mountains.
Every ship entering or leaving paid customs dues, these taken in by the collector of the port to add to the secret stipend he gave to his master from smuggling. Kasa Ephraim was a busy man, with much to concern him in the way of trade, for he had multifarious interests, and the need to push his way through crowded thoroughfares in the company of his coffer-bearing servants meant he had no eyes to spot anything unusual, not that the sight of half a dozen well-set young men in such a prosperous city was that.
If Argyrus had spies in Amalfi, he also had people who were his eyes and ears in Salerno and they told him, after months of observation, that the one time it would be certain that the Prince of Salerno would be in his Castello was the day the Jew delivered the port revenues. They had also found out from gossip in the wine shops that Guaimar was wont to meet his Jew in private after the transaction of official business, with no one else present.
The group that had trailed Kasa Ephraim was not alone: there were others in the city, all now armed and each one with a task to perform, some to take important buildings, others to take care of anyone who might raise resistance, but most important was the group who gathered outside the gates to the Castello di Arechi, becoming in time so much part of the landscape that if the guards at the entrance had noticed them at all, they did not stand out now.
There was no way of seeing through the stout stone walls, the time to act was a guess, based on the exit of some of Guaimar’s council, who would leave the Castello once the public business had been transacted. As soon as they were out of sight, the Amalfians struck. The guards — in truth, in such a peaceful city, long past being alert — were the first to be killed. While half the raiding party entered the Castello, others, the younger ones fleet of foot, were sent as messengers to tell the rest to act. Inside the building, for all that any shouts echoed off the walls, the doors to each chamber were built of stout well-seasoned and heavily studded timber, and so muffled such cries.
Kasa Ephraim would have died had he not just left the prince, having said farewell to Guaimar just as his sister and niece came into his presence. As it was he found himself knocked to the ground as those intent on killing Guaimar, six in number, swept past him towards the unbarred door to the chamber he had just left. The Jew was not a fighting man, but he was a clever one. Seeing the flashing knives, already dripping with blood, it took no great imagination to understand what was happening, just as he knew that alone he could do nothing to prevent it.
The cries of alarm and one scream, he heard as he pulled himself upright and hurried for the exit. Behind him, unseen, those six assassins had stopped before the Prince of Salerno, who seeing their blades and being himself unarmed knew what he was about to face. He pushed his sister and her child behind him, and with a voice carrying as much command as he had ever been able to muster, demanded to know who came upon him in such a fashion.
‘Amalfi has come for you, Prince Guaimar, to seek redress for the blood of its people.’
‘Strike and your city will burn, I swear,’ Guaimar spat back. ‘Not a stone will remain standing, not a life will be spared.’
‘Then, Prince Guaimar,’ the leader replied with a grim smile, ‘we have nothing to lose.’
The assassins rushed towards him and hit out with their blades, surrounding the prince and stabbing with fury. The last words he said before he fell to the ground, with blood spurting from dozens of wounds and his garments already bright red, were ‘Spare my sister and her child.’
That was not to be: the task was to kill off the House of Salerno; Berengara and her daughter, widow and child of William de Hauteville, died within moments of Guaimar and from those same knives.
Kasa Ephraim knew the Castello well, having served both the prince and his father. He made his way to the family apartments, where he spoke, in a voice he could not believe was as even as it sounded, of the danger they faced. Like every castle of the age in which they lived it had a private as well as a public entrance, and not just for fear of murder: all princes liked to be able to come and go unseen. If the Jew did not know where it was he suspected it existed, and he told Guaimar’s wife and children, most particularly his fourteen-year-old son, Gisulf, to get out of the Castello at once.
‘Take nothing, for you have no time.’
‘The prince?’
Though he hoped he was wrong, the Jew guessed he was right. ‘Will be dead by now. Go.’
No one demurred when he followed; he, too, felt that only by leaving could he survive. In the harbour, one fast sailing ship was hoisting sail, not from panic or fear, but to carry the news of the death of Guaimar round the toe and boot of Italy to tell Argyrus of the success of his plan.
The news of the murders came to the Norman host, gathered between Melfi and Benevento, through Guaimar’s cousin, Guy, Duke of Sorrento, who had escaped the city and ridden hard to deliver it.
‘The road to Aversa was blocked and there were Amalfians at every post house to stop any messenger changing mounts.’
‘But not on the road to Melfi?’ demanded Humphrey, his beetle brow creased.
‘No.’
‘That does not make sense,’ said Mauger.
‘Perhaps it does,’ Humphrey replied, his suspicious nature working overtime, as were his prominent teeth, chewing his lower lip. ‘I smell another hand in this.’
‘Argyrus!’ growled Geoffrey.
There was a silent exchange of looks then: one thing did not need to be stated, given they all knew of Pope Leo’s scheming. With the Pontiff trying to contrive an alliance to defeat them, and an army gathering north of the city of Benevento, an important fief like Salerno, who had proved to be their only dependable ally, could not be allowed to fall into the hands of someone who was an enemy. If Argyrus was involved that meant Byzantium, the worst possible opponent, given he might control the city and a hinterland that, in league with Rome, would see them surrounded.
‘William’s child was murdered as well?’ asked Mauger, sadly, more sentimental than his brothers. Guy of Sorrento nodded. ‘Then we have a blood reason to intervene.’
‘If we move on Salerno,’ Humphrey nodded, though he looked less grieving than Mauger, ‘he will move on our Apulian possessions while we are gone.’
‘The Pope?’
‘He is still assembling. Leo cannot threaten us yet.’
‘So we stay,’ Mauger asked, ‘or move south to block Argyrus?’
Since the loss of both William and Drogo, Humphrey had grown in both confidence and authority: he was very much in command now.
‘Leo is at present no threat. Geoffrey will lead half our forces to confront Argyrus. If we are wrong and he does not move from Bari then no harm will be done. If he does, and you cannot beat him, you can delay him
