Mercenaries

CHAPTER FIVE

The Jew was not one to open his door to a stranger, but in a place like Salerno, bustling but not large, everyone knew the features of the old Duke’s heir, for they had seen him paraded alongside his father at every religious festival, Roman or Orthodox, held in the city since he was a babe in arms. He recognised the boy as soon as he threw back the cowl on his head. He was also a man from a race that had learnt to be cautious: he knew that any gentile could represent danger to an Israelite, and the boy standing close to the doorway lantern more than most.

So, through a hatch in his heavily barred door, he bade the youth re-cover his head and walk off into the gathering gloom of the evening, bidding him come back in another two chimes of the cathedral bell, time in which he made sure his premises were not being observed by agents of Pandulf or his Norman hirelings and, by use of his contacts with the less salubrious orders of the city, that his cloaked visitor was not being followed.

When Guaimar returned he had no need to use the knocker: the door was opened as he lifted his hand and he was swiftly drawn inside. From his doublet, Guaimar produced a wax tablet bearing an imprint of the archbishop’s seal, which the Jew, a tall man dressed in good woollen garments, took close to a wad of flickering tallow, then held the object in even closer proximity to his nose.

‘You recognise the seal?’

‘I do, honourable one.’

‘I am scarce honourable now, sir.’

‘You are your father’s son, that is honour enough.’

There was something in the way the fellow said that which made Guaimar ask a question, his brow furrowed with doubt. ‘You knew my father?’

‘It is not an association he would have been keen to let all Salerno know about, but I was often of use to him.’

‘In what way?’

The Jew chuckled. ‘Let us say that rich men, powerful men and others sometimes need to transact business that must be kept from prying eyes.’

‘What kind of business did my father have that required your services?’

‘Secrecy was our bond. I would not tell even you, honourable one.’

‘Then how can I know to believe you?’

‘You bear the seal of the most saintly Archbishop of Salerno, but I do not ask how you came by it. Nor will I tell anyone who enquires that you came here or what it is you wish for. That will be our bond, the same secrecy as I kept for your father so that his subjects were not troubled in their respect for him.’

Those words implied something underhand, even perhaps double-dealing, transactions kept hidden from those who trusted him. Was the father he so revered not as upright as he thought?

‘I need money.’

‘Many people who come here have that need.’

‘You hold in trust certain items for the Archbishop.’

‘He fears the clutches of the Wolf.’

‘He asks that you advance me sums of coin, with them as surety.’

‘How much?’

‘How much is there?’

The Jew laughed, a low and growling affair that shook his shoulders, but attractive. ‘I have a bond with the archbishop too. You must tell me what it is you require and let me decide if what I hold will meet your needs. I see you hesitate.’ Guaimar nodded. ‘If you do not tell me I cannot help you.’

‘I do not wish to disclose too much.’

‘Do you plan a bribe?’

‘No.’

‘A purchase?’

‘Perhaps that,’ Guaimar replied eagerly, too eagerly for a man as wise as the fellow he was talking to.

‘A journey then?’

The way Guaimar looked then produced from the Jew a hearty guffaw. Then he came forward, took the youngster by the arm, and said, ‘You would grace my house if you would make use of my private chamber.’ The boy found himself led through a door into a sumptuously furnished room and invited to remove his cloak. ‘Pray be seated, honourable one.’

‘I do not know your name.’

‘Kasa Ephraim, ho…’

‘I am Guaimar,’ the boy said, quickly, cutting off the honorific. ‘To say more is excessive.’

‘This I know, and I do not seek to flatter you by addressing you so. I think it is no more than you deserve.’

‘I am without titles which go with the tribute.’

‘You have nobility in your blood, and I think very likely in your person. You will take some wine?’ Guaimar nodded and picking up a ruby-coloured glass jug, chased at the tip with silver, Ephraim began to pour a deep-red wine into a golden goblet. Having passed the goblet to Guaimar, he settled himself in another chair. ‘I am bound to ask after your sister. She is well?’

‘She is well, but given to anxiety.’

‘With the Wolf of Capua on the prowl, that is not a surprise.’

‘Do you have a bond with him?’

‘No, but he may have a bond elsewhere, and if he has it will probably be with one of my race.’ The Jew raised a flat hand, palm upwards. ‘Please, drink. And so, Guaimar of Salerno, of what service can I be to you?’

‘I have told you.’

‘Forgive that I dare to disagree. You have yet to tell me what journey it is you wish to make, and how you plan to make it.’

‘I have not said I am going on a journey.’

‘You are young, honourable one, and I think clever, but I am a man who deals with men of all kinds, some of them best off in the shadows. I have learnt much in my time, and…’ He indicated his surroundings. ‘…I humbly say that I have made a fine return on the occupation I follow.’

Guaimar suspected he traded with the local merchants and smugglers, who worked hard to avoid the customs dues of the port. If he did, had his father known, and if he had, why did he not put a stop to it? It could only be to do with money, secret money, for that was clearly this man’s business.

‘Your father understood that for certain matters to be controlled they must in some way be allowed. Yet that did not mean that all revenues should be lost.’

Or openly declared, Guaimar thought, before he spoke. ‘Can you read my mind?’

‘No, but I can see that I would have sent your thinking in certain directions. Now enough, tell me of your journey, so that I may help you, and be assured, honourable one, you do not just have to depend on the items left in my care. I would see it as a privilege to help the son of a man for whom I had so much respect.’

‘I want to go to Bamberg, with my sister, passing through Rome, my aim…’

The Jew held up a hand. ‘I do not think you need tell me that. How will you travel?’

Having lied to the archbishop about heading north, avoiding Naples, to cross the nearly dry summer riverbed of the Volturno between Capua and the sea, Guaimar had no idea why he told this Jew of his true intention.

‘We shall go due east through the mountains, seemingly heading first for Mount Gargano, ostensibly on a pilgrimage to the shrine of Saint Michael. Then, once clear of observation, we will head north. A monk who knew my father says he will guide us to monasteries in the Apennines where we may take shelter.’

‘Such a journey requires preparation, the use of horses and mules, as well as the purchase of supplies. You would be stopped from going, and even if you were allowed, Pandulf would attach to you an escort. He is no fool.’

‘I have been assured the monks of my father’s late order will gather what I need with discretion.’

‘Better you go secretly by boat to Ostia.’

‘With whom?’ Guaimar asked, and when he got in reply a shrug, he added, ‘Smugglers?’

‘They are people who are accustomed to evasion. That you need very much to do.’

‘But they are not to be trusted?’

‘Trust is a word much abused. Your father trusted the Normans, did he not, and they broke their word and his spirit. You suspect I deal with these people and you are correct, but with them too, I have a bond. These monks of which you speak, good Christians they may be, but even if you could get away from Salerno, undetected, one of their number could betray you, on what is a long journey, for what Pandulf would pay them as reward.’

‘Our identity would be kept secret once we were clear of the city.’

‘No!’ Ephraim insisted. ‘I think you must go by the route I suggest. You can be aboard a boat and out at sea before anyone has an inkling you are gone, and with a fair wind…’

‘There could still be a pursuit.’

‘How many boats leave this harbour before the sun is up, a hundred, two?’

‘Fishing boats.’

‘In the dark, no one will trouble to comment on a larger vessel, a not much larger vessel.’

The look in Kasa Ephraim’s eye was one that told the young man not to enquire too closely; someone would be bribed to look away, and he had no need to know anything of that transaction.

‘Money?’ Guaimar asked.

‘That, honourable one,’ Ephraim said, rubbing his finger and thumb together, ‘we will come to. Now let us drink another goblet of wine to seal the bargain.’

They were on that second goblet of wine when the Jew explained his thinking. ‘You need little money for the journey to Ostia and it is best not to have too much about your person in case someone is tempted to robbery.’ Seeing Guaimar raise an eyebrow, he added, ‘It is not a good idea to put too much temptation in the path of those who have little.’

‘Even if you have engaged them to a purpose.’

‘Even then! In Ostia there is a synagogue where you must wait. From there to Rome I will arrange. You can call upon the people I deal with to give you gold, for north of Rome, and surely in Bamberg, that is what you will need. There is in the Eternal City a family called Pierleoni, once of my faith but now converts and immensely rich. I will give you a coded letter to them, and they, who know more than I do what will be required, shall ensure you are well supplied on my bond. I will also ask them to give you access to their agent at the imperial court, in case bribes are required there.’

‘And for this?’

‘Look around you, honourable one, and you will easily see I am a man of business. Through the Pierleoni, I advance to you what you need out of love for a city more at peace than it now is. But, should you succeed, and should the Emperor place you back in your rightful position, I would beg to be given as my reward the office of collector of the port.’

‘A handsome one,’ said Guaimar, feeling cheated, which was risible, given the task he still had to perform. Yet the collector of the port was the most lucrative office in the ducal gift.

‘Rest assured, honourable one, entrusted with that office we will have a bond. I will not cheat myself, but neither will I cheat my Lord.’

‘And the smuggling which goes on now?’

‘You have a sharp mind, as I suspected.’ Kasa Ephraim smiled. ‘We men are sinners, and when one sinner dies or is caught, another will take his place.’

‘So it will continue?’

‘Be assured it must continue, but also take my bond. It will not get worse and you too will find, should you come into your inheritance, that a flow of funds to do with what you wish can much enhance a man’s power with those he must command, but dare not trust.’

The prospect of the departure of William and Drogo from Hauteville-le-Guichard was, like all family partings, full of false emotion: brothers not travelling joking how much easier life would be without their pesky siblings, no mention that, in a dangerous world where God moved in mysterious ways, to say goodbye to anyone going on a journey could very easily be a final farewell. William and Drogo were just as bogus in their display of extreme confidence; they too knew that to travel five hundred leagues, even on busy pilgrimage routes, to a place where they could only hope they would be welcome, was a daunting prospect.

As if to underline the need to go, they were barely returned from service with Duke Robert, when their father’s second wife, the Lady Fressenda, was delivered of another boy child. Geoffrey de Montbray baptised him with the name Roger as soon as it was seen he would live, and, true to the family trait, he cried as lustily as all his seniors when his head was ducked in the church font. He too, God willing, would grow to impressive manhood.

The celebrations attending that event were only slightly marred by the proposed venture; neighbours came and admired the addition to the family, then drank too much of the contents of the family flagons; Tancred took his ribbing as an uncontrollable satyr in good heart until the impending expedition of his two eldest, combined with his consumption of an excess of apple wine, reduced him to maudlin tears.

That duty seen to, they had to be equipped for the journey, choosing the best horses with which to travel. Apart from their own destriers that they had trained from the foal, they needed not the swift coursers that had carried them to the battle, but mounts known for their good health and robust constitution. Pledges had to be made to certain people in Coutances, a promise of future produce from the demesne to gain in advance some more coin, this added to the little that the family itself could provide.

Each would take two extra packhorses laden with sea salt extracted from the pans the family maintained on the Normandy shoreline three leagues from their home, a good source of estate revenue and a very tradable commodity on the route they would travel: a peck of good salt was worth a meal in a land where it was scarce. The horses, once their loads had been used, could, if they were still fit animals, be traded for sustenance or a money payment.

A destination was another decision to be made and that involved much questioning of those who had returned from Italy and others who had any knowledge or connections there. In this, Geoffrey of Montbray, with his clerical associations, was most useful. The Church of Rome had a way of disseminating information denied to mere laymen: priests and monks travelled to and from Rome, and papal envoys traversed the whole of the known Christian world carrying the messages and strictures of the various popes.

There were Norman forces in every part of Southern Italy, but the most successful seemed to be a knight from Alencon called Rainulf Drengot. He was no longer just a mercenary, but had acquired land as well, a heady prospect to the two young men intent on travelling, for they were not immune to the idea that they could gain glory as well as money in that fabled land said to have streets paved with gold.

Besides, Drengot would be the leader of the first Norman band they would encounter so it made sense to try there first. If he had no need of their services they could continue on to the Byzantine fiefdom of Apulia. At worst, their swords could be put to the defence of Calabria from the raids of the Sicilian Saracens. It never occurred to them that they would not find employment: Norman ability was too highly prized!

It was late autumn, bordering on winter, before all was in place. The morning they were due to depart William went to look out, for the last time, over the land that was still his to inherit, his mind whirling with thoughts. His brother was wiser and had declined to join him, insisting no good would come from standing in the freezing cold when there was a blazing fire in the hall.

The manor house, which was home to them both, stood at the top of the highest hill for leagues around, and from there Tancred could look over his demesne with a clearer eye at this time of year than most others. The abundant trees had lost most of their leaves and the higher branches were still white from the morning frost that clung to them. Trails of smoke rose from the homes of the tenants and serfs, who at this time of year were more concerned with gathering wood for their fire than farming.

The rolling landscape trended away in all directions, west to the coast, further south of that to the see of Coutances. Eastward lay the more settled and richer part of Normandy, the towns of Caen and Rouen, with their markets and multitudes, places William had visited but where he was never truly comfortable. To the north the de Hauteville land bordered on the extensive de Montfort domains, and in his mind’s eye, for it was too far off to be visible, he could see the high, round, stone donjon of the kind which his father so envied.

It took only a glance to his left to see that which he wished to replace, the earthen mound atop which was a wooden tower and palisade. From there you could see more of the land; it was designed not for that but for the observation of approaching danger and defence from troublesome neighbours and others, like the piratical raiders of the offshore islands, ever bent on mischief.

Not wishing to go indoors, he plodded through the mud and climbed the slippery wooden treads to the heavy tower gate and, entering the circular edifice, went still further to stand on the stoop that overlooked the spiked tree trunks of the palisade. He had been standing there a while, he knew not how long, when the deep voice surprised him.

‘I brought you your cloak.’

Engrossed, he had not heard Tancred approach, and realising how cold he had become he gratefully accepted the heavy deer hide garment he had brought.

‘The prospect of the journey troubles you?’

‘Leaving this place troubles me. I have known little else.’

‘You know I pray you will return.’

For a man not given to emotion, unless drunk, that was as close as Tancred was ever going to get to saying how much he loved his eldest son. And William knew what hopes he had harboured: of a day when a de Hauteville, he most of all, would be the man chosen to ride at the right hand of a Duke of Normandy, the man their liege lord trusted to command his familia knights.

‘Duke Robert must be well on his way to Jerusalem,’ William said.

‘I fear he has much for which to ask forgiveness,’ Tancred replied.

That had, in discussion, led to the conclusion that the rumoured murder of his brother must have some truth in it. Robert, a man not known for excessive piety, going all the way to Jerusalem, hinted at such a grave sin.

‘Can God forgive a transgression of that magnitude?’

‘Your cousin of Montbray would tell you He can.’

‘And you, Father?’

‘All I know is this. It would break my heart and my beliefs if it happened with any of my sons.’

‘And when Duke Robert returns?’

‘Pray God he marries and breeds an heir, for if that boy William succeeds him, even if he is grown to manhood, it will not go without challenge.’

‘From us.’

‘No. I could no more take up arms against the wishes of my liege lord than do so against my own sons. I respected his father too much and I gave my word when in his service to be loyal to them always. But others will.’

‘You will be asked, as I would if I were here. Our connection to the ruling house is too well known.’

Below, they could see the family servants leading out the already laden packhorses, which gave Tancred a good excuse not to answer. He pulled from inside his jerkin a small folded piece of cloth and pressed it on his son. There was no need to explain what it was — the blue and white colours identified it as the de Hauteville lance pennant.

‘I hope and pray one day you will go into battle under this, our family standard. Now, let us go down. The time has come for you to be on your way.’

It took a seeming age to get everything ready, to check the horses, even if servants had already done so, to ensure that nothing had been left to chance or worse, left behind, for they must, if they did get to Italy, be equipped with everything they needed. Naturally the whole family was on the stone-flagged pathway that bordered the front of the manor house to say farewell, and each embraced the pair, saying words that were whispered hopes. Tancred was naturally last, but he did not embrace his sons, instead he called forward Geoffrey de Montbray, before commanding them to take out their swords and kneel. They knew, without being told, how to use the hilts of those weapons.

‘Swear before this priest, your cousin, on the Holy Cross, that never will you raise a weapon, nor bring harm in any other way, against your own blood.’ Both, heads bowed, murmured the response, before kissing the joint between hilt and pommel. ‘Now stand, and take my hand like the men you are.’

That they did, clasping Tancred’s arm to the elbow. There was no kissing, no embrace, as that completed, they sheathed their swords and mounted their horses. ‘Now go, and God be with you. And above all, my sons, remember you are de Hautevilles and make me proud.’

Geoffrey de Montbray was still praying, head bowed, when they were out of sight. Everyone else bar the head of the house was either joking or choking but trying to hide their emotions and baby Roger, having picked up the mood, wailed like the infant he was.

Tancred had gone indoors before he lost sight of them and his whole family knew he wanted nothing more than to be alone, for they, like he, doubted he would live to ever see their faces again.