‘You’ve raised him well, Ademar.’
‘I doubt I could have done otherwise, My Lord.’
‘I have heard, Bohemund, that you are a paragon, that you do not act as do those of your age: light in the article of wine, not one to carouse and not yet taken up with women? If that is true I wonder if you can truly be of my bloodline.’
‘I have never had cause to doubt I am your firstborn son.’
The words ‘but not your acknowledged heir’ hung unsaid. Robert had two other sons from his second marriage, as well as a wife who was determined that their firstborn child, not Bohemund, should succeed to the dukedom.
‘Then it pleases me that you do not disgrace me,’ the Guiscard replied, before spinning on his heels to look at the walls of Corato. Bohemund, about to speak, felt his brother-in-law’s hand on his arm and glancing sideways observed an imperceptible shake of the head. Robert having walked away to examine the defences more closely, Ademar could whisper for restraint.
‘What you want to say should not be aired in public.’
‘But it must be spoken of.’
‘In private, Bohemund,’ Ademar hissed. ‘Your father is not a man much given to taking pleasure in public humiliation.’
‘Have you demanded they submit, Ademar?’ Duke Robert called over his shoulder.
‘Of course.’
‘And their response?’
‘They told me where I could stick the shaft of my lance; far enough, they suggested, so I could taste wood in my gullet.’
That engendered a booming laugh, one that would plainly be heard inside those walls, this before the Duke called to one of his knights.
‘Reynard, tell the Master of the Host to make camp, though I doubt he needs to be so informed. It seems we must prepare for a siege. Bohemund, when my tent is erected I require you to attend upon me so we can talk. Ademar, we will ride round the walls and when that food is ready my son and I will dine alone.’
‘What about your prisoner?’
‘Lash him to a tree, facing the sun, with no food and no water.’
‘My Lord,’ Peter of Trani protested.
That got him a hard look. ‘Think yourself lucky I do not strap you to an anthill and leave you to rot, which is what you deserve.’
The ride around Corato was made to the accompaniment of endless jeers from the battlements, the usual insults heaped upon the supposed attributes of Robert’s mother and the various creatures she had lain with to produce him, that added to imperfections of his own being, not one of which he had not heard flung in his direction time and again from stouter walls than these. Compared to some of the fortified places he had captured — Bari, Brindisi, Palermo and just a week previously Trani — Corato amounted to no more than a nuisance, yet it was an irritant that could keep his army here for an age.
The Guiscard had no doubt he could take the place, but the building of siege towers took time, ladders less, but they were not likely to be as quickly successful. This revolt by a number of his own barons had cost him too much time and money already and added to that high summer was coming, which in this part of the world meant a dangerous time to be campaigning, for nothing sapped an army like debilitating heat and the diseases that went with it. They would not come out to face him and Robert knew and told Ademar he needed a quick way to get them to surrender.
‘Though I am damned if I can think of one.’
Ademar could only agree, though he did have a suggestion. ‘Peter is their suzerain — perhaps he can persuade them to open the gates.’
‘And what would he demand in return, Ademar? He would not do it without naming a price, which I would be honour-bound, once promised, to meet.’
The way Robert de Hauteville suddenly pulled up his horse surprised Ademar, who, looking at him, saw a twinkle in those bright-blue eyes, as well as the smile playing around the Guiscard’s lips. It was a look he had seen before, the point at which some stratagem occurred to his duke that would hasten him to the result he desired. That it was quickly and wholly formed was made obvious by the way Robert spun his mount and began to canter back to where his tent was being erected, the shouted commands to desist called out well before he made his ground.
‘Gather the woodcutters and have them bring every animal skin that they have on their carts.’
Another known trait of the Guiscard was that he never explained his trickeries before they were employed, so all his fighting followers watched with deep curiosity as those woodcutters constructed, with saplings and lashings, throughout the morning and into the heat of midday, a long and wide frame, which they then covered with dried animal skins. Robert was in his element, overseeing the design, which he insisted required a strong central panel as well as grips at the rear so it could be lifted and borne forward. Completed, it lay on the ground, looking as flimsy as it undoubtedly was.
If he was happy, not many of those he led shared his joy, for it seemed obvious that their duke was constructing an object behind which he expected them to advance on the walls of Corato. It was true that animal skins, at the point where an arrow was losing its forward force, would stop the point penetrating to wound or kill those behind it, but that was a diminishing protection. Close to and just released from their bows, the arrows had such a high velocity they would punch through the hides, with those to the rear, unable to see them coming, in no position to take action with their shields to deflect them.
Duke Robert’s whole army was not happy and that was only assuaged when he called forward his familia knights to tell them they would have the honour of carrying out the assault. There were no leaders as such in this group of elite warriors, but some had the ability to voice an objection, chief amongst them Reynard of Eu.
‘As you know, My Lord, it is our duty to follow you wherever you go.’
Robert knew the meaning behind those words, which made his grinning response all the more worrying. ‘And so you shall, Reynard, for I shall lead you from the very epicentre of the line we shall form up behind our wall of skins.’
That set up a murmur of doubt amongst them all, but again it was Reynard who articulated their concern. ‘How can we protect you?’
‘You will not be required to, Reynard, for I can call upon a much better safeguard than your swords and shields.’ The Guiscard was in high spirits, amused, and he called to Bohemund, his tone larded with humour. ‘Perhaps my son would care to join with me?’
Bohemund doubted the wisdom of doing so and it was evident from his expression; that he had no choice, that he knew he was being challenged to risk his body, was made plain by the way he stepped forward with purpose. ‘I am at your command.’
‘As is everyone here present,’ Robert replied. ‘But your first task, Bohemund, is to go to yonder tree, untie that wretch Peter who once had Trani, and bring him to me.’
The young man was confused, which altered his countenance, not that anyone else was much wiser. As he went to carry out his father’s bidding he could hear him chuckling and, far from finding that annoying, he for some reason felt reassurance. He was not descended from a fool, not the offspring of a man given to uselessly sacrifice his person or the blood of others, but from someone famed for his guile, so it was with less concern he untied the prisoner and brought him to where his father stood.
‘Those walls yonder are your walls, Peter, are they not, granted to you by me?’ Peter nodded, unsure of what was coming. ‘And those holding them are loyal to your title, for if they were not they would scarce hold them against me?’ Another nod. ‘Then I require you, in duty to me, to order the defenders, your men, to open the gates.’