Once they rendezvoused with the Otranto contingent, they changed course for the Corfu Channel, where Bohemund awaited them. The Byzantine governor of the island, on seeing the size of the forces now opposing him and knowing he could expect no aid from Constantinople, readily surrendered all three of his castles. The tiny Greek garrisons were evicted to make way for Apulians and enough vessels were left to Robert’s new governor to make any attempt to use the channel a costly one.
Bohemund now in company, the fleet set sail with undiminished confidence for Valona, there to disembark the backbone of his forces, the men needed to secure his base and keep his army supplied and their equipment in good order, the remainder then destined to invest and capture the great port city of Durazzo, once the capital of Roman Illyricum and a place from which ran a proper Roman road, the Via Egnatia, all the way to the imperial Eastern capital. Once Durazzo was his, it would be his base for his march deep into Romania.
It was almost as if the ancient pagan gods, who had been worshipped when that road was built, felt the need to take a hand, to remind even the most mighty warrior of the sin of hubris. The storm that suddenly and unexpectedly hit Duke Robert’s fleet, coming out of the mountains of ancient Macedonia, was stunning in its violence, with a wind that tore sails from their eye bolts and waves of a size that, hitting galleys on their beam, had the force to so cant their decks that water flowed over the bulwarks and if they could not be quickly righted they capsized.
All Geoffrey Ridel’s attempts to get the fleet facing into the tempest, to point their prows into the waves, were hampered by a system of signalling that was primitive and required good vision. The rain that came with the storm made that impossible, a downpour so heavy that he was unable to even see those vessels sailing in close company, while the screaming wind carried away from them any voice commands he could yell through his speaking trumpet. Down below on the transport ships the horses were in panic, neighing and snorting, kicking their stalls with such force that the timbers were being smashed, this while the men who would ride and fight on them sought, by whispers and endearments and holding their bridles hard, to calm them down, while at the same time being sick.
The storm died as quickly as it had appeared, leaving a still-heaving sea but clearing skies full of scudding clouds, the Guiscard now able to look out over a seascape of vessels in a sorry state: disordered, masts gone by the board, rudders smashed, galleys lacking oars, for so many had been ripped from the rowers’ hands by the sheer weight of water that hit them as they tried to steer. It took time to reimpose any cohesion, and when they counted what remained, that established how many had actually foundered and what the bill was in terms of human loss. Some no doubt wondered if the Duke would see this as his hopes dashed and return to Brindisi; those who knew him better never doubted their destination would remain fixed.
At Valona the temporary disembarkation proceeded with even greater disorder than that which had attended the departure from Brindisi — hardly surprising, given as much damage had been done below as had been done that was visible. But as off Corfu, the sight of such an armada and the force it carried was enough to open the gates to the citadel once it was made plain that failure to do so would result in a complete massacre for those who had taken refuge. The ships’ masters, especially those who commanded the fighting galleys, were endlessly harassed into getting the vessels back into good repair — there was no time to waste, for the speed of the Apulian attack was as vital as the level of its force; every day delayed gave the enemy time to mass to meet them.
If it was not as fine a sight as had departed Brindisi when they weighed, it was still a potent force and a leaner one, a fighting fleet with minimum transports designed to both blockade and take Durazzo, a city which would not only open up to the Guiscard the whole of the lands now ruled by this Alexius Comnenus, but would deliver into his hands all those rebels who had fled from Italy: Abelard, Peter and the others, a band of ingrates whom he was determined should decorate the walls of the newly captured city with their skulls.
The storm had been a shock, but even that paled when, as they rounded the promontory that enclosed the great bight of Durazzo, they sighted another fleet — dozens of fighting galleys of a similar size to their vessels, but also a high proportion that carried a similar shape to, but seemed an improvement on, Byzantine dromons. This was a type of ship much more potent than their own, with a taller mast that carried a huge lanteen sail, bigger hulls that could accommodate two hundred men, twin banks of oars added to higher poops and foredecks. They were sitting outside the harbour of Durazzo, between the Apulians and the prize they sought, and there was only one power in the Adriatic who possessed such vessels.
‘Venetians,’ Robert spat.
It was even more galling to find out from the local inshore fishermen that they had only just beaten him to the bay. Had not that storm delayed him, the Apulian fleet would now occupy a defensive position outside the harbour, instead of their more powerful foe — one from which, even with such ships, it would have been hard to dislodge them.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Durazzo stood at the northern end of a long bay, tucked into a fold of land that protected its harbour from the frequent storms that made their way down from the Alps, while a mole had been built out into the Adriatic to guard against most other eventualities. The greatest asset was the good and spacious holding ground outside, an anchorage that could accommodate hundreds of vessels, making it, as the end of the Via Egentia, the central point of the major land trade route to the East. Naturally, such an important city had well-built walls and towers, as well as a strong fortress, but if the port had a fault it was that the same long bay was lined with shallow sand, and that allowed an enemy to land in force well away from the ability of any local forces to prevent it.
That, along with a tight blockade, had been the Guiscard’s intention but the presence of the Venetian fleet and those dromons rendered that impossible. If he did land his army, that would leave his undermanned ships at their mercy, and once they were destroyed, his forces would be stranded; in order to keep up their siege strength and then advance into the interior they needed to be supplied from Italy. Without that line of communication his mounted knights, the best fighters on foot as well as on horse, would spend most of their time protecting foraging parties and they, should the investment of Durazzo be of long duration, would be required to search further and further afield for the means to feed the host, increasingly weakening the numbers he could pit against city walls.
Robert assembled the ships’ masters as well as the men who commanded the soldiers borne on each vessel, to crowd out the deck of the ducal galley to discuss with them the forthcoming difficulties. They centred on the much larger vessels of the enemy fleet, not only because of their dimensions but also because of the higher number of fighting men they could carry, though he was not in doubt that the men under his command would fight regardless of such problems.
‘We must overcome the dromons, then disperse the rest of the Venetian galleys before we even think of setting foot on shore.’