There was no threat in the enquiry and Roger did not take it as such, answering in an even tone. ‘I fear the turmoil you may bring, Bohemund, that I must confess.’
‘Turmoil that would impact on Sicily?’
Roger held up his hand, index finger and thumb near to touching. ‘I am that close to having the whole island under my control. I will have Syracuse next and then only the southern port of Agrigento and the central bastion of Enna are of importance and hold out against me.’
‘I have heard Enna is a harder nut to crack than Melfi.’
The response was a sardonic smile. ‘It is, and if you were not so determined here in Apulia I would be inviting you to join me in the siege.’
Bohemund did not smile; he threw back his head and laughed. ‘Grant me the title Borsa holds and I will come readily. To fight alongside you, Uncle, I would consider an honour.’
Roger did not laugh. ‘Sadly, Bohemund, it is not mine to give, only mine to withhold.’
‘When I asked if you feared me a moment ago, I did so because I suspect that being a vassal of my father troubled you.’
‘On more than one occasion.’
‘So it might not please you to have me if I were Lord of Calabria as well. I daresay you would not willingly admit me as your suzerain in place of Borsa, but if I held Calabria I would have you by the throat, for nothing could get you in Sicily that I did not sanction and you would, for the sake of survival, be forced to acknowledge me. That was a power my father held over you, even if he did not exercise it.’
‘How little you know my brother,’ Roger sighed. ‘He knew it to be so true it never had to be stated.’
‘Which is why you seek to rein me in.’
‘I admit that there is motive in what you say, but there is also one thing you are not considering, Bohemund, and it is something you should. I swore an oath to your father to look after his son and heir-’
‘But not to me!’
Roger held up a hand; the anger had justification. ‘I feel the same bond towards you, Bohemund, even if it was never asked of me.’
‘So you would not fight me to the death?’
‘I would grieve if you fell in battle and be mortified if that was in a fight against me. Rest assured, if it ever came to a contest, I would hope you would order that I be spared, for I would certainly issue such a command to those I led to show mercy to you.’
Bohemund nodded; it was nearly a bow, which led Roger to suspect it was time to say what had only been in the back of the younger man’s mind.
‘But you know as well as I do it will not come to a contest. The force I would lead against you is one you could not challenge. I would have all of Borsa’s vassals as part of my host, as well as what I could bring from Sicily, while I doubt even those Apulian lances you lead would stay true and the enterprise would have papal blessing.’
‘Popes die.’
‘True, but do not assume that anyone who is elected pontiff will happily lay hands on you and grant you a title. If it borders on flattery to say so, you are too dangerous.’
‘While you are not?’
Roger, leaning forward in his chair, replied with arms as wide as his smile. ‘Do you not know I am a good son of the Church? Is it not I who is busy making Sicily a part of Christendom and subject to the Roman rite?’
‘So even if the Pope did not bless Borsa in a campaign against me, he would bless you.’
‘I am seen as a crusader for the faith.’
‘That is not how I see you.’
‘And you would be right not to do so; but it is time to seek a solution, for I must tell you I have no desire to render you a pauper any more than I have a desire to see your half-brother puffed up with the kind of pride I fear he will succumb to once he feels secure.’
‘Much as I dislike him, I do know he will not fall in to the sin of pride.’
‘Aye, he is too saintly.’
‘But not too much so to be a duke?’
The talk that followed was long and occasionally heated, as maps were produced, even if they were unnecessary — both men knew the lands of which they spoke too well to need them, Roger seeking to curb Bohemund’s appetites, his nephew aiming to secure for himself a fief in which he could feel safe. Thus any hope of being given Bari was denied; he had to settle for his present fief of Taranto, with the addition of all the lands between there and Brindisi, which included Otranto, Gallipoli and Lecce, which left the final disputes that lay to the south of Conversano.
‘I will not let you take this castle and the county off your relatives and my own, Bohemund, and you cannot use the excuse of past betrayals to enforce it. This was home to my eldest brother and he was a gentle and good man.’
That made the younger man want to stick; the land around Conversano was extremely fertile and the revenues were substantial, but Roger would not budge and finally, after much discussion, a line was drawn south of one de Hauteville family fief to the border of another, added to another to the west, as well as a promise extracted to apply no pressure to his Conversano cousins to cede him any land, and certainly not an agreement that they should be his vassals. The final hurdle was an obvious one.
‘You must do duty to Borsa for that which you hold.’ Seeing Bohemund about to object, Roger, for almost the first time, was brusque. ‘If I find no difficulty in doing so, do not say to me you are too proud to act likewise.’
‘And what will be my title?’
The reply was given in an exasperated tone. ‘You are Lord of Taranto, is that not enough?’
Bohemund responded with a sly grin. ‘You are not content to be a mere count, you are the Great Count.’
‘So, tell me, nephew,’ Roger sighed, ‘how in the sight of God do you wish to be known?’
‘Prince of Taranto!’ Sichelgaita shouted. ‘Does the wretch have no shame?’
‘That is his final request,’ Roger replied.
He had been through hoops and spent a whole day arguing that they should accede to Bohemund’s demands, and had endured the unspoken accusation that he was acting for one nephew too much and for the true heir too little, suspecting it would have been thrown in his face if he was not so vital to their cause. It had been difficult too, having to make plain without it being stated that he was not going to support them without an agreement, and if they demurred then he would wash his hands of the whole business. That it was a bluff, only he knew, but the one thing he determined upon was that the matter should be settled so that, if one was not satisfied, neither side would want to contest it; he had his mind on Syracuse, Enna and Agrigento.
‘And you support him in this, Uncle?’ asked Borsa in a quieter voice, when all the arguments had been, several times, exhausted.
‘It matters not what title he has, all will know he is your vassal.’
‘Count should suffice,’ opined Guy of Amalfi, who was, after all, a duke in his own right.
‘Is Jordan of Capua greater than the Duke of Apulia, Guy? It is more vital that the world knows who is suzerain and who is vassal than what they are termed.’
‘And for this he will swear fealty?’
Again it was Borsa asking and, just as many times before, he could not look his irate mother in the eye.
‘Do not grant this,’ she hissed.
‘For peace, Mother, it is a small thing.’
Roger had to bite his tongue then; whatever Bohemund swore, whatever he had said to him in Conversano, his uncle knew his nature would never allow him to cling to peace. Bohemund was a warrior and through his veins coursed the blood of two Norman parents, one of them the Guiscard. The Duke of Apulia would be troubled again by his half-brother and it might be that he would have to come to his aid and enforce reconciliation more than once. The thought did not trouble him greatly; he was, after all, a man well aware of the world in which he lived, one where the only hold a magnate had on his possessions was that which he could enforce. Nothing was granted to anyone to embrace as of right; it had to be won and maintained by the same method: the sword.