It was not morality that made him act in that way; every army on the march committed such offences and when a town or city was sacked, rape and pillage was part of the reward taken by the successful besiegers. But such events were a distraction and a continual temptation that could slow him down; the last thing he wanted was men dropping back to sate their carnal needs when he was intent on making, every day, the locations on Reynard’s Roman maps that had been designated as stopping points.
It was at a hamlet surrounded by fertile farms, ten leagues short of the well-defended town of Matera, that Tancred went missing in an area where the locals had shown no desire to do anything but feed and water these mail-clad knights for fear of what they might do if they were denied. But Bohemund, noting his absence at first light, was concerned, as was Ademar, for the boy had been faithful in pursuance of his duties; if anything he had dogged the footsteps of his uncle as if seeking to have some of Bohemund’s martial ability rub off on him. He would not be missing unless something untoward had happened to him.
‘Can we delay for one squire?’ Reynard loudly demanded as the order to break camp was delayed.
Indicating he should keep his voice down Bohemund answered him softly. ‘He is not just any boy, Reynard, he is my sister’s son.’
‘Who must take the same risks as his fellows and we have to make our next stop while there is still daylight.’
‘I cannot leave without knowing what has become of him.’
‘And if those pursuing us catch up?’
‘We do not know we are being chased,’ Bohemund replied, not looking at a man he considered a true friend as well as a source of wise counsel.
‘If we are not,’ Reynard spat, ‘I will eat my gauntlet.’
‘Bohemund,’ said Ademar, approaching the pair. ‘Move on as you must, but I will delay and see if I can find him.’
‘No, many men searching will make light work of such a task and I owe you that for so readily coming to my aid.’
‘We are far ahead of anything on our trail, Reynard, and can spare a glass of sand to find him.’ Then Bohemund dropped his voice to a whisper so Ademar could not hear. ‘And let us hope it is not with a knife in his back.’
His father’s one-time familia knight had to acknowledge the possibility; not everyone would be happy to give up their oats or their grain and an easy way to make that known would be to attack the people least able to defend themselves, vulnerable when, without properly dug latrines, they would wander off to relieve themselves.
Reynard’s expression softened, for he liked Tancred — most men did. ‘He would be hard to kill, your nephew. I would pit him even at his age against half the lances we lead.’
‘Then let us get searching, for the sooner we know the truth the sooner we can depart.’
The man who found Tancred called to Bohemund and waved, his face grim, that look shared by the half-conroy of his companions with whom he had been searching the western woods, which induced a grip that the leader felt on his heart. The boy was the apple of his sister’s eye, and even if she had his younger brother William, the loss would be keenly felt. He joined the man who had gestured, following him and his confreres into the woods, aware that in his footsteps were coming others, Ademar included.
The man, still dour-faced, led him to a woodcutter’s lean-to in which were stacked high piles of logs from several seasons, gaps in between them, a perfect place to conceal a body. Standing back, he indicated Bohemund should enter, but their leader knew that to do so on his own exceeded his rights, so he waited for Tancred’s father to join him, then made his way between two stacks, one green and recently cut, the other dry and well seasoned.
When he and Ademar stopped, they could not, after a pause, avoid looking at each other, for on the ground lay Tancred, his arm round a young girl, both of them sound asleep. She was on her back, her skirts so raised as to leave no doubt about what they had been doing, and beside her, face down, lay their son and nephew, while beside them, upended and obviously empty, was a wine gourd. Behind them gales of laughter erupted as the men who had guyed a worried Bohemund let their pleasure be known. The noise made Tancred raise a groggy head to look at the two adults framed by daylight.
‘Shall I kick your squire, Bohemund,’ said Ademar, ‘or does that right fall to you?’
‘One each I should think.’
The yells of Tancred as the boots went home added greatly to the mirth and that rose even higher as, clutching his unfastened breeches, he staggered out into the open.
The great twin bays of Taranto, really a deep outer cove masking, with a wide island, an inland saltwater lake, were visible from a long distance, for they lay on a flat coastal plain, while the approach from both north and east was from a high elevation. The city was Greek and had been since the Ancient Dorians founded it, part of that one-time Magna Graecia which comprised so much of the Norman possessions in Italy. Ruled by the Lombards, it had not been colonised much and for all it was an attractive port it had suffered since Roman times, given they had laid the Via Appia to Brindisi and directed what trade they had with the East through that port.
Rendered something of a backwater, it had been given to Bohemund by the Guiscard because he felt required to present his bastard son with some title, yet he was cautious of appearances to a wider world as well as his wife’s sensitivities. By allotting to him such a lordship he gave him recognition without much in the way of power; the true strength of Apulia lay further north in Bari and Melfi. Yet the surrounding plain was fertile and with good husbandry could produce two crops a year, the sea was abundant with fish to salt, while the pans on the shore produced an endless supply of that commodity, so the revenues were far from meagre. It had too, as did all Greek ports, a castle that protected the basin, albeit one in great need of repair.
Being given overlordship of such a place did not oblige the person holding it to reside in his possessions, so Bohemund had made only two fleeting visits since it had been granted: the first was to appoint a steward to look after and if possible grow his revenues, and to ensure that the stud was not only working but that breeding of foals should be increased; the second, when he had been close by in his sister’s castle, to see how the improvements he had ordered made to the castle were progressing. This stood on the southern tip of the island and blocked access to the inland lake by the only route that had a depth of water to allow entry and egress by ships of any size.
‘What Taranto has, you young degenerate, is people and supplies.’
‘Not lances,’ Tancred replied, smarting from the pointed allusion to his nocturnal misdemeanour, which he had been ribbed about for days.
‘We have lances, what we need are milities. Those we pass working the fields will soon be bearing arms.’
‘My father says they are often of little use.’
‘Well led they can set up a battle so the mounted men can decide it. Even of little merit, they cannot be ignored.’
Word having gone ahead that a large party of knights was approaching, news was, as always, sent to the city by the fastest runners the outlying settlements could despatch. This set off a general alarm in Taranto and led to the hurried closing of the gates. They stayed that way when Bohemund sent his own herald to announce his arrival, for these were folk well accustomed to trickery from the kind of men approaching — even in mail they could be Saracens — so it nearly fell to their liege lord himself to command them to be opened. Yet such was his remarkable appearance that as soon as the citizens saw it was truly him word was sent to unbolt them so he could enter.