man to challenge. Geoffrey spun away, called to his standard-bearer, and marched forward.
‘Now that,’ Robert said to himself, feeling pleased at the notion, ‘is going to surprise them.’
‘My Lord, news has come of many boats exiting the harbour.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ Robert barked as the messenger physically cowered before him. ‘Tell those damn Venetians.’ The man was already running away from what came next. ‘And tell them if any escape it will come from what I pay them to be here.’
The feeling he had entertained, of doing the unexpected, which he always enjoyed, was spoilt by the knowledge that he had failed to instruct the galleys to immediately put back to sea — not that they should have required such a directive, the fools. He was tempted to go to the shore and look out for those trying to escape, suspecting, since Argyrus knew what fate awaited him, that the Catapan would be taking the lead.
But time for that did not exist: Geoffrey was on his way back with a clutch of men around him, an indication that his enemy lacked central direction, and it was pleasing that as soon as they came before him they fell to one knee, bowing their heads — they knew their lives were in his hands, just as he knew that his reputation was such that they would fear immediate decapitation.
‘These are the captains entrusted by Argyrus to command his men,’ said Geoffrey. ‘He did not give anyone rank over another.’
‘A fool as general, then, if he’s not going to take the field in person.’
‘A treacherous toad,’ Geoffrey spat. ‘I request his head to adorn my walls.’
‘Who here is native to the city?’ Robert demanded. Only one fellow raised his head to engage his eye, the rest did not respond. ‘The rest of you, return to your lines, now, I have no need of you.’
Geoffrey gave that shake of the head a man employs when he wonders what in the name of creation is going on, which caused Robert to smile: if even his brother could not discern his intentions, then that was all to the good.
‘Stand.’ The fellow obliged, a slight surprise flickering across his face as, close to the Guiscard, he understood just how large was this famed warrior. ‘Name?’
‘Grenel.’
‘A Lombard name? You say a native, were you born here?’
‘I was.’
‘The other captains?’
‘Are from many parts of the empire, sent here by the emperor.’
‘Then they will pay by mining salt for their loyalty to Constantine. You, however, carry your own fate in your hands. Succeed in what I am about to ask of you and you will live, fail and I will strip off your skin with red-hot pincers.’
Robert paused to let that sink in, using silence to create tension. ‘Go into the city and assemble the citizens as my envoy, then ask them if they want to live or die.’ There was a sudden rasp in his voice at he added, ‘If the citizens want to see their city burn, to witness every stone thrown down before they themselves are spit-roasted, they will close the gates. If they wish to grant to me the title of overlord they will come out with the keys. Clear?’
‘Yes, sire.’
Geoffrey was not sure whether to be impressed or angry. Brindisi had never had any suzerain other than the holder of an imperial title since the time of the Romans. They had been especially difficult as sometime allies in previous revolts, more like a city-state of antiquity, finding it difficult to maintain internal cohesion with their mixed populations, never mind consistent support for insurrection. In truth, they were interested only in their own prosperity, bending with the wind, allies if matters were going well but quick to desert the cause of freedom if Byzantium reacted with force.
‘A warning, Grenel! I have to satisfy the men I lead, who have suffered assaulting yonder walls. Much will be asked of the worthies of Brindisi in wealth and a great deal of the lesser citizens in comfort, the womenfolk especially. But what they lose they may be able to recover under my guiding hand, so tell them not to hide their gold or their daughters. Now go.’
The Lombard captain ran off and Robert looked out to sea, where the Venetian galleys were plying their oars at attack speed, in pursuit of the clutch of boats seeking to sail away to safety. He stood between his enemy and his own army, over five thousand men in number beginning to swelter as the sun rose. He needed to convince them that he was right in his approach. That he was about to address them became obvious when a cart was fetched on which he could stand and, ever mindful of their welfare, parties had also been despatched to bring forward what food and drink had not been purloined by the surviving horsemen from Brindisi.
‘Eat and drink all of you,’ he cried in his stentorian voice, once he was high enough to be seen by all, one which had addressed them many times before, using Greek, the most common language to all assembled. There were Normans too new to his service to understand, but he would just have to trust those longer in Italy to translate for him. ‘I want you content and not sour-bellied, and mark this, it is you who do so, not those wretches between Brindisi and us. They must stand and sweat with nothing to ease either throat or stomach.’
Robert watched as that instruction was obeyed, trying to sense their mood, which could best be described as suspicious. Not one of his men, from the captains of his mounted conroys down to the lowest pikeman or crossbowman, was other than wary.
‘Now, you all know me to be a devious bastard, do you not?’ That got a roar of good-humoured agreement. ‘Well, I still am, nor am I about to change.’ His arm swept out towards the city walls. ‘Over there is a city at our mercy, a place that refused to open its gates when we first appeared before the walls.’
There was nothing good-natured about the shout that statement engendered. It was full of imprecations and promises of blood to be shed and revenge to be exacted. The citizens of Brindisi could hear it and they would be shaking in their sandals.
‘So it deserves outright sack, with its citizens, those that survive our wrath, bonded into slavery.’ That would not be disputed, Robert knew, and he was not disappointed, waiting till the shouting died down before speaking again. ‘But I have offered them their lives and freedom.’
If the reactions had been loud before they were screams now and no longer aimed at the people of Brindisi, they were aimed at him. Robert grinned, deliberately provoking even more abuse, and waited until that expression began to cause doubt among those listening, enough for him to hold up his hands and command silence.
‘Now why would a devious bastard like me do that?’
‘You want everything for yourself, Guiscard?’ called a voice.
His response was a loud and carrying laugh. ‘You know I am only good for four women at a time, fellow, and there are thousands in there.’
‘Then let us at them,’ called another.
‘No one has answered my question.’
‘I will answer it,’ shouted Geoffrey.
Robert held out his hand to raise his brother up and Geoffrey, once aboard the cart, turned to face the crowd.
‘It is because, not only is my brother a devious bastard, he is greedy too.’ The agreement was as loud as all that had gone before. ‘He will not be satisfied with just this one port city — he wants Bari and after that the biggest one in the world, Constantinople itself.’ He turned to Robert. ‘Tell them I am right.’
‘Listen, my friends, if I have my way every one of you will leave this place with a full purse and an empty sack between your legs, but the walls will be intact and those fellows cowering behind me will become my soldiers as much as you now are. Up the coast is Bari and one day I must take that, a task greater than this we faced today, for it has stood for five hundred years without being subdued. But more than that, over the Adriatic is Romania, the land ruled by the corrupt arseholes of Byzantium. They have no brains, no balls and no ability to command armies, but I do, as I have commanded you.’
He had them now, he knew that: they were close to silent.
‘What they do have is so much wealth that it would buy a thousand Apulias, enough to bury us so we would never see daylight again: gold, jewels — the spoils of seven hundred years of bleeding the fabulous East — and women, think of the women: perfumed creatures just waiting for a proper man to saddle them and show the poor fools what they have been missing with their girly husbands. They have an emperor who is a fool, a man who needs potions and a troupe of naked dancing girls before he can get hard, and even then rumour says he is flabby. Gold,
