‘Business?’
‘I served as a conduit by which your brothers could send money back to Normandy.’
‘You are a Jew?’
‘With a name such as mine, could I be otherwise?’
If Ephraim was a Jew he had none of the physical traits associated with his race, barring the sallow complexion: he was tall, well proportioned and the facial features were even and handsome.
‘I used to accompany my father to the home of a Jew in Rouen.’
‘To whom I remitted your brothers’ gifts. I recall some mention of the building of a stone tower as being his heart’s desire.’
‘He always left that house in Rouen with a smile.’
‘Did he get his donjon?’
‘He did, but only after William had begged the Duke of Normandy for permission.’ Roger, recalling that such a thing had angered his father, was suddenly aware of his lack of manners. ‘Please sit, sir. Can I get you some wine?’
‘That would be most pleasant. I recall sharing many goblets with William.’
‘Not Drogo?’
‘Less so Drogo,’ Ephraim replied with a wistful look. ‘He was, how should I say, more impetuous than William, and although we transacted business it did not extend to conversations regarding his well-being.’
‘Why have you come here?’ Roger asked, handing over one goblet and sitting down with his own.
The Jew did not reply at once: it was as if he were searching for the right words. ‘I must tell you that I am in the service of the Prince of Salerno, as I was in the service of his father. I hold the office of collector of the revenues of the port.’ When Roger did not respond Ephraim added, ‘You do not see it as strange that a man of my race is entrusted with so valuable an office?’
‘I would not see it as likely in Normandy, but this is Italy. Things happen here that are strange to us northerners.’
‘Nothing more strange, I wager, than a Lombard prince seeking to engage you in mercenary service against one of your own race? It is, I suggest, a task you should decline.’
‘Strange advice for one who serves the prince.’
Ephraim acknowledged that with a nod. ‘Good service, as opposed to mere sycophancy, often requires an advisor to impart to his lord unpleasant truths, things he would rather not hear.’
‘Yours being?’
‘That any attempt to confront Richard of Aversa would result in the complete destruction of his house. Rainulf once turfed his grandfather out of this very Castello di Arechi. Should he persist with his illusions, the same will happen to him. It is advice I have given him often and too many times it has fallen on deaf ears.’
‘So you choose to tell me?’
‘If you share William’s good sense, you will heed what I say. I fear that there is another strain in your bloodline, which I could best describe as that of Drogo.’
Roger grinned: he had grown up hearing of the latter’s exploits, the number of fights he had got into with his mercurial temper, added to riotous escapades which did not point to much in the way of good sense. He had also met several of Drogo’s bastards and some of the fathers who still cursed his name for debauching their daughters, as well as men who recalled him fondly as a good man with whom to drink and carouse.
‘Meaning Drogo would accept?’
‘He was, as I said, impetuous, yet maybe I do him a disservice for he was not stupid.’ The Jew stood up. ‘I have said what I came to say, now it is up to you to decide.’
‘Would it surprise you to learn I already have?’
That got no more than a nod, though he was clearly pleased. ‘I esteemed William and I am proud to think I was of some use to him while he was alive. Should you have need of my services I would be more than happy to provide what I can.’
‘What services would they be?’
‘To answer that would require me to be immodest, but if you ask you will find many people able to tell you, though some I am sure will curse me. Let us just say, that if I thought Saracen mercenaries would be advantageous, I have the means to fund such a thing from my own resources.’
‘And you would aid me likewise?’
‘I sense something in you, so yes.’
‘Why?’
‘You are right to ask, which shows you share William’s sagacity. I saw in your brother a sense of honour not much in evidence in the world I inhabit, and he never gave me cause to doubt it. Humour my poor deluded prince, then seek employment elsewhere, perhaps by repairing your bond with Robert.’
Roger was surprised. ‘You know we have parted company?’
‘It is my business to know what goes on in my world. Not to do so for one of my race makes life too dangerous.’
Roger did as he was bid: he listened to Gisulf as excessive drink detached him even more from the actuality of his true situation, which was that if Richard of Capua decided one day to take Salerno he might well have the means to do so. It would not be easy, it would require allies and a siege of long duration, for the walls were strong and in good repair, while the sea was open for the supply of food and men.
The only relief was provided by Gisulf’s sister and that came from observing their differences as much as their manner. Where he was weedy and narrow of chest, Sichelgaita was huge, as tall as Roger and with a frame and a voice to match, strikingly blond where Gisulf was dark, and she seemed fearless of nature where he portrayed anxiety with his continual twitching, so much so that Roger was wont to wonder if they truly shared the same sire. The last act of his day, when the feasting was done, was to alert Ralph de Boeuf to make ready to leave at first light.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Away from this madhouse, we shall go on south to Scalea.’
‘They might try to stop us leaving.’
‘Then you know what we will do if they try.’
De Boeuf grinned. ‘I’ll get the swords sharpened just in case.’
CHAPTER NINE
The approach to Scalea was along a rocky shore, leading to a fertile plain hemmed in by hills and mountains, the most striking feature a rock escarpment on which stood the walled town, topped by the outlines of a castle, that replacing an old Byzantine watchtower on a volcanic plug right on the shoreline. With a mind naturally military, Roger could not help but see the strengths of the location, which were many, and its weaknesses, which were few, yet it could be taken: had not Mauger done just that to the previous incumbent, a Lombard vassal of Gisulf?
Stopped by sentinels in the approaches, a messenger had gone ahead to alert the garrison and, of course, the suzerain and soon Roger saw a lance bearing a pennant of the same blue and white chequer that adorned his own. A space apart, both brothers dismounted to approach each other; Roger was welcome anyway, but when his elder brother found out he had fallen out with Robert, he was hugged by a beaming sibling unsurprised by what had brought him to this place.
‘The weasel dunned you,’ Mauger hooted. ‘That does not surprise me.’
The soubriquet Guiscard might mean cunning to those who esteemed Robert, to those who hated him, and there were many, the secondary meaning, weasel, was the more accurate. Mauger was still smarting from the way Robert had taken over from Humphrey. He saw himself as the equal of any of his brothers, and having been longer in Italy he felt the title of Count of Apulia should have devolved to him
‘Geoffrey insists he is generous by nature, that the way he has treated me is an aberration, and so does every other Norman to whom I talk, though he did wonder that Robert might be made cautious by my
