‘Knowing it does not make it palatable,’ Roger replied grimly. ‘He will besiege Mileto, for certain.’
‘Then it is best we are not here when he does so.’
‘Robert will not harm me, or our children,’ Judith insisted. ‘He is not some beast.’
‘I know, but I have no idea how far he might go in his jealousies. If he storms Mileto all of you are at risk, not from Robert but the men he leads, who will be drunk with the passion of combat, as well as too much wine. It is a thing I have seen often and it is not pleasant.’
‘You forget I am a Norman.’
Roger grinned. ‘How could I, Judith?’
‘Then as a Norman I will hold our castle of Mileto.’
‘You’re asking me to desert you?’
‘No. I am saying you should do as you intend, stay outside the walls where you are too great a threat to ignore. Is that not what William did at Melfi?’
‘You are the second person to mention William this day, and the same person gave me similar advice regarding not being trapped here.’
‘Then he is a wise judge.’
Roger laughed. ‘Whatever happened to that sweet girl I knew in Normandy?’
Judith came close, stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. ‘She grew up to become an Amazon. I will send the children to my brother at St Eufemia. Robert will respect a foundation he himself funded, but when he comes outside these walls of ours he will be obliged to parley with me, and when he demands surrender, if you leave me enough lances, I will refuse him.’
Deep in his heart, Roger felt it would be impossible for Robert to harm Judith, for all his irascibility he was not like that and, even if he growled about his bloodline he had respect for his siblings and their offspring.
‘Very well, Judith, you will be the Chatelaine of Mileto, and no doubt troubadours will compose songs of praise to you. I must take Jordan with me — I promised.’
‘He is too young, Roger, and he will seek to prove he is not.’
‘I will look after him, never fear.’
‘Can you win against Robert?’
‘No, but I can make him pay too high a price for what is, after all, nothing but his pride.’
‘When will you leave?’ Judith asked.
‘On the morrow. Robert is no fool, he will suspect I will not give in to his demands so he will already be on the way. I doubt his message was sent before he was ready to depart.’
‘One more night, then?’ she said, an unmistakable timbre in her voice.
Roger grinned as he held her close. ‘No warrior should go into combat unshriven, it is seen as impious.’
‘If you are not impious this night, husband, it is not Robert you will have to answer to, but me!’
Roger, at the head of his personal knights, plus those who had already responded to his call to arms, rode out of Mileto the next morning, with Jordan at his side. Behind him other lances lined the parapets as the gate swung shut, the portcullis came down and the drawbridge over the moat was lifted. This being a fortress designed and built by the man now departing, it would not be easy to take.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Robert was outside Mileto within ten days, proving that Roger had been right — he had departed Melfi at the same time as his message, looking a proud figure as he rode up to the gates to demand both entry and submission, genuinely surprised when Judith of Evreux was the person who answered him, his first reaction a declaration that he did not parley with women. That rebounded on him as Judith nodded and disappeared, leaving him fuming with impatience until he had his herald call her back.
‘Where is my rebellious brother?’
‘Raising lances to fight his duplicitous one, among folk who love him and despise you.’
‘I demand he appears before me and recants.’
‘Demand away, Robert,’ Judith replied, ‘but you are not talking to your lackeys now.’
‘He owes me fealty.’
‘You owe him gratitude and more besides.’
‘Let down the portcullis, drop the drawbridge and open the gates, Judith, to my castle of Mileto.’
‘The gates to MY husband’s castle will remain closed to you until you repent.’
The yell that engendered was loud enough to make stone tremble. ‘Repent! I am the Duke of Apulia.’
‘And you are a mean-spirited scoundrel.’
‘If you were a man, Judith-’
‘How I wish to God I was, Robert, to knock you off that magnificent horse you are riding. You’re so puffed up with pride I would need no more than a feather.’
‘You know the price of a refusal?’
‘I do. Your men will die trying to overcome these walls.’
‘Judith,’ Robert said, sounding emollient, ‘I know you to be brave as you are beautiful, but I sense that if you are speaking to me Roger is not within the walls. I think I know my brother well enough to be sure he would not hide behind your shift. Very well, he has gone elsewhere and, rest assured, I will find him. So what you are about is an empty gesture. Open the gates and allow me entry. No harm will come to you or yours, I give you my word.’
‘Is that the same word that promised my husband the revenues of Calabria for ten years, promised him titles, or is it the word of a man so consumed with jealousy for a wiser head and stronger arm, a man who does not have to bribe his lances to be loved?’
‘You’re trying my patience, Judith.’
‘How can that be, Robert, you have none.’
‘Open the damn gates,’ he bellowed.
The barrel that appeared over the walls must have been thrown by two very sturdy fellows, for it cleared the moat to land in front of Robert’s mount, which reared in fright. It burst open, spewing a foul-smelling eruption of brown liquid, which managed to spatter both the Duke of Apulia and the chequered caparison on his horse.
‘That, Robert, is the night soil of Mileto, the piss and shit of the town. Rank as it is, it smells sweeter than your blandishments.’
Furious, Robert pulled on his reins and swung round his horse, departing with no dignity at all, a furious pace he maintained until he got to his tent, jumping off to enter, demanding to be brought hot water and fresh garments, not that such needs stopped him from shouting commands.
‘Send men out to find my brother, scour the land. By God I’ll dip his head in a bucket of shit for what his wife just did.’
‘The siege, sire?’
‘Siege!’ he yelled, as he tore off his surcoat and his fine cambric shirt, showing a body of rippling muscles and numerous deep scars. ‘You want me to make war on my brother’s wife?’
Two servants brought in a large tub of water, warm enough to produce wisps of steam. Robert’s head went straight in and stayed there, while those he trusted to lead his men stood and watched. Eventually the great leonine head came out again, dripping water, his hair turned a flaming red by being soaked.
‘Set up the siege lines and make it look as if we plan an assault. If Roger intends to fight me that will draw him to us.’ Looking into the blank faces before him, he was moved to shout once more. ‘What are you waiting for?’
One captain was braver than the rest, Grenel, the Greek from Brindisi, who had taken wholeheartedly to service, trusted to lead a bataille of Robert’s pikemen.
‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘it would help us to know your purpose.’
The look that got was enough to freeze Etna, yet it took no genius to see the same question was in every
