‘I have encouraged Gisulf of Salerno to continue to openly support Capua.’
‘He is a feeble prince, Hildebrand; if his deeds matched his boasts it would be him we have to fear, every one of his and our enemies would be as dust.’
Hildebrand could only agree with that; Gisulf of Salerno was a shoddy prince, both a capricious ruler and a useless warrior who, despite his manifest failings, saw himself as a new Caesar. He was wont to conjure up in his imagination great hosts which he would lead to victory — the means did not exist in either the numbers he could actually raise, or in his ability to inspire them. Gisulf was a buffoon, more of a pawn in the chequered board of South Italian politics than a meaningful entity, and it spoke volumes of the lack of physical force the Vatican could bring to bear that it was necessary to seek his aid. Added to Gisulf’s military weakness was his way of lining his pockets by what amounted to near piracy, the ships of Salerno combing the seas to attack trading vessels from the likes of Pisa and Amalfi, both of whom complained bitterly to Rome but to no avail — even if the papacy despaired of his depredations, Roman trading vessels from the port of Ostia were no safer.
‘Whatever the outcome,’ Hildebrand added, reinforcing the thoughts of the Pope, ‘the contest is going to enfeeble whoever is come closest to victor, and that cannot but be a good thing.’
Bohemund had gathered his band of thirty knights, formed in three conroys of ten each, one of which he led personally, and had left Calore as swiftly as he could muster men, mounts and supplies; he had no trouble recruiting lances, for when it came to plunder, every Norman in the Guiscard’s army was keen to take part and many were disappointed to be left behind. The newly captured town was closer to Campania than Trani and there seemed little point in assembling there and having to retrace his steps. He therefore had no knowledge that events in the East had affected his role; with a new emperor in Constantinople and one whose disposition was a mystery, Duke Robert no longer felt comfort on that flank, which was alone enough to make him cautious about acting aggressively in the west.
To invade and conquer Campania he would be required to denude the Adriatic coast, so wisdom dictated that matters be delayed until the situation in Byzantium became clear. The notion of an invasion he could discount — this new emperor would have too many other troubles on his plate — but the loss of a possible marital alliance did mean that the Eastern Empire might, once more, be fully active in fomenting trouble amongst his quarrelsome vassals, and that he must guard against. Yet no message was sent to Bohemund; Robert did nothing to rein in his bastard son, keen as he was to see how he fared as well as offering a test of his loyalty.
Such ignorance of events found Bohemund and his conroys on a small tributary not far from the eastern bank of the River Ufita, about to cross into the rolling and fertile uplands ruled from Capua. The aim was to destroy the smaller and less defensible outposts and watchtowers that owed fealty to Prince Richard, emptying his granaries, removing the stored ampoules of oil and wine, while letting run wild the spare mounts that were kept in his borderland stud farms, the very means by which he could mount and sustain a campaign in defence of his possessions.
On the first stage of their journey it was natural that when they rested they did so with the Duke of Apulia’s vassals, but as they approached the border that ceased and they camped as if already on campaign. As soon as they crossed the Ufita the alarm would be raised; thirty strange lances and over a hundred horses — for each conroy had a quartet of young squires who would one day be warriors themselves — could not move without provoking a reaction.
‘We must anticipate the local forces will gather to hunt us down. They will try to take us before we do any harm.’
These words had been spoken by Reynard of Eu, who led one of the conroys at Duke Robert’s insistence — if his father had set Bohemund as the leader of these exploits, he was not dull-witted enough to do so without the inclusion of someone of more experience to provide advice; his son was, after all, only just turned seventeen. What Reynard had said could not be gainsaid, for Bohemund knew as well as his father’s familia knight that such behaviour would not be allowed to go on unchallenged, and part of the young leader’s task was to ensure that he took every precaution against being surprised by a superior force of lances.
That was a thought that had troubled Bohemund since the day they set off and where he could he had sought advice from those who had previously raided these territories, because for all Duke Robert’s precautions, no invasion could be mounted entirely by surprise; Richard of Capua had to be too canny for that, so those border vassals would be on the alert for anything likely to affect both their security and that of their master. Against such a possibility they would, however, have limited strength; such frontier settlements had no great band of knights to protect them. The bulk of the Capuan forces, those Norman lances that would quickly coalesce into a powerful host, lay closer to their major possessions such as Aversa and Capua itself, while those on the extremities would be mainly locally recruited Lombards or Greeks with a small leavening of Normans to stiffen their fighting ability.
‘Then let us make sure they seek us out, Reynard, with the certainty they know where we are.’
‘You mean to bring them to a contest?’
‘If I can do so, yes, but my ultimate aim is to create a period when we can roam freely and at will.’ Before the older man could analyse what he was being told, Bohemund added, ‘So before we so much as torch a farm we must do some careful reconnaissance.’
The maps Bohemund had brought with him were copies of those made by the surveyors of the Roman Empire, and no group had been more assiduous in ensuring the accuracy of what they recorded. Thus, if the nature of the landscape had changed through human activity — the Lombards had taken to themselves the best land, created bigger farms and also extended a settlement as well as built a strong fortress at Grottaminarda — the contours had not, so every hill and valley was recorded, as well as the locations of open country, forest and the streams that fed the river, the latter two features of paramount value to a marauding band. Thankfully, here in the uplands, those watercourses flowed well even in summer.
The local magnate, the most potent of Richard’s vassals, would reside in Grottaminarda, for it was through there the trade routes ran east and west and the collection of toll revenues was both easy and profitable. It was a location too well sited and formidable to even contemplate attacking, but even if a force from there sallied forth to put a stop to their activities it would not amount to the whole available strength; no sensible commander would denude his main base of fighting men when it was essential it be defended and held. Policy dictated the man in charge send out a small body of fighters, backed up by messengers to the outlying forts and towers, taking a small contingent from each to make up a force of enough size to hunt down intruders and crush them.
Initially only a trio crossed the river: Bohemund and Reynard accompanied by a squire and one packhorse, leaving behind mail and helmets, dressed in the kind of dull woollen garments favoured by non-fighting men and walking as much as riding, never doing the latter with anything above a trot. Bohemund studied his maps and employed a natural eye for terrain that seemed bred into him. They stayed out of sight as much as possible, avoiding the lower ground where the farmers toiled, using the ridges to gain a view of their proposed pillaging grounds, which included the identification of places to raid as well as a good location to offer battle to those who would come to stop them.