‘I will do what is needed.’
Later, sitting beside his comatose brother’s bed, to the murmuring of priests saying prayers for his deliverance, Roger could too easily recall what he had called his chicanery, though he was forced to acknowledge that in his treatment he had not been singled out; many of Robert’s vassals had been treated the same. Robert could not help himself, for he was devious as well as cunning; he would promise anything to get what he wanted, then wonder why he should pay up when his aims had been achieved, and that was how it had been in Calabria.
Roger had set out to subdue that Byzantine province on the pledge of being given the revenues of the fiefs and cities he took; his brother had reneged when he was successful. It had been necessary to rebel to get him to honour those undertakings and even then, when Roger had been required to rescue him from his own folly — or was it his hubris? — he had held out for an even share of those revenues. To this day the income from those possessions was split between them.
Together they had gone on to take the capital city of Reggio, which left them gazing over the single league that separated the Calabrian shore from Sicily, long an ambition of the younger de Hauteville. Once the Guiscard had been persuaded that if he joined with Roger an incursion could succeed, they had acted more in concert. The result was that even with their limited number of lances, never more than five hundred and often a third of that — William of Normandy’s invasion of England had drawn off many of Robert’s knights in the years ’65 and ’66 — they had overcome insuperable odds. First Roger took Messina by a coup de main, then after a decade-long campaign along the north of the island, which included more than one reverse and at one time threatened to end in disaster, in concert they captured the magnificent Saracen capital of Palermo.
If Robert de Hauteville was Duke of Sicily, that title granted to him by the late Pope Nicholas — really by Archdeacon Hildebrand in a rare moment when he needed the Guiscard on his side — it had been given to him when he did not have a single foot soldier on the island. Now it was clearly Count Roger’s to direct and it was at the centre of his own ambitions. Yet he also knew that the path to complete control of the island was a long way off; there were still emirs potent enough, and in possession of cities and fortresses strong enough, to make subduing the island a task which could take another decade and he was wondering what support he could expect from his brother’s ducal inheritance of Apulia and Calabria, regardless of who ruled, should that prove necessary.
‘My Lord, the Lady Sichelgaita sends to say that she has assembled Duke Robert’s vassals.’
Roger left the bedchamber and the whispering supplicants to make his way to the great hall of the Castle of Bari, which in its size matched the importance of the port and city. A long gallery, high-arched and well lit, it was crowded, mainly with men of his own race but also with a sprinkling of Lombards who had been granted power in a land too large for the Normans alone to control. Everyone who held a fief from Robert, however small, from simple watchtower to great baronial castle, had been summoned, with the Count of Sicily speaking for the entirety of that island as well as his and his brother’s extensive and shared fiefs on the mainland.
Sichelgaita had taken up a seated position on the raised stone platform at one end, regally dressed in shimmering white silks, with her braided hair shining, occupying a place where normally her husband would conduct his public affairs and oversee the great feasts of which he was so fond. Her brother-in-law was obliged to admit, as he entered, that holding that place suited her. Behind her, in full canonical garments, stood the Archbishop of Bari and beside him two servitors with the means to bless those assembled and ensure that whatever vow they took, it was to God as much as to their suzerain.
Everyone in the great hall was aware that as a wife Sichelgaita held a position very different to the normal spouse of a great landed magnate; she was no mouse but had been as often Robert’s right-hand helpmeet as Roger himself. When the Guiscard was absent from Apulia, indeed in the long periods he had spent in Sicily, Sichelgaita had acted fully in his name; in short the Duke trusted her to rule his domains as he would himself, and she had done so with great competence. Yet this was a greater challenge and it was telling that for all her imposing build and forceful presence, having her son by her side took away a portion of that, for in presence he could not match her.
‘Count Roger, I would ask that you join me on the dais.’
‘And I, Lady Sichelgaita, would not wish to elevate myself above the other lords present. I am content to remain at the level of every one of my brother’s vassals.’
It was impressive, the way she dealt with that, for it was a potent response from such a powerful man and it was not an obviously supportive one, which was plain by the expression on the faces of the others present, though many worked hard not to react at all as they sought to filter in through their own feelings and deep-seated hopes. Sichelgaita, although she must have been both hurt and anguished, managed a beaming smile and spoke with enough sincerity to seem untroubled.
‘Such an attitude does you great honour, brother. I hope that others present will see it as an example.’ Then she paused, her eyes ranging over the assembly. ‘You are all aware that my husband, your liege lord, is gravely ill and while we pray for his full recovery it must be accepted that our wishes and entreaties may not be answered.’
That set the archbishop nodding and naturally set up a murmur, but it did not last; all wanted to hear what they knew was coming.
‘When I married Duke Robert there were reasons for our match that transcended the regard we found for each other as man and wife. I need not tell you Normans present that the lands he holds are peopled more by my race than your own, even more by Greeks than either combined, and that has only increased as he has expanded his possessions. If he has granted you lands and titles, he has also granted you overlordship of a less than settled polity. You will all be aware that in the last rebellion, it was not only his dissatisfied Norman barons who rose against him — some of whom are present and have been in receipt of his benevolence — it was Lombards too.’
Her eyes then, as they ranged around the room to pick out the mutinous, were like agate, and those of whom she was speaking had the good grace to look abashed.
‘My husband realised that no Norman could hold this patrimony with the numbers he could muster, and he took me as wife as much because I am a Lombard as a princess of the House of Salerno. Also, when he has been absent it is to me he has given the reins of his power to wield, and I have used it to create harmony amongst a population that does not love you any more than they loved Byzantium.’
Abelard could not restrain himself; he stepped forward, tall and gangly, for if he had the de Hauteville height he had none of the physical substance. ‘I will not be party to this. My uncle, whom I will not grace with any title, stole my inheritance. It is fitting that should he cease to lord it over my rightful possessions, then they should be mine to take by my bloodline.’
‘I invite you to find support in this chamber,’ Sichelgaita replied, lowering her voice to add a caveat. ‘With a reminder that the Guiscard still breathes, as you have all borne witness. I would not want to promise that he would be magnanimous if those whom he has so recently forgiven their transgressions against him were to show a lack of gratitude. I would certainly counsel him against it.’
As a warning it was palpable; she had, at this moment, the power to act as she saw fit and would see hung, drawn and quartered any such ingrate even if Robert was against it.