‘I think the quantity of lances you see before you elevates us above a band.’
‘It does not exalt you enough to explain your presence in a Byzantine province.’
‘Which would matter if we felt the need to explain.’
‘Get off that horse, damn you,’ Humphrey barked, an outburst which clearly amused the rider, who smiled disdainfully.
‘To do so would be to imply that as the representative of the catapan, Michael Doukeianos, I am willing to treat with you as equals.’ That was followed by a snort and a snapped addition. ‘Which I am not.’
‘And neither, I suppose, is the catapan?’
‘Most certainly not.’
‘Probably too frightened to come himself,’ scoffed Drogo.
‘You have a message,’ William said, ‘deliver it.’
‘To you?’
‘To me, William de Hauteville, the leader of the Normans in Apulia.’
‘The catapan has been informed that you have illegally occupied his great castle at Melfi.’
‘He has good ears,’ said Drogo. ‘Or many spies.’
‘You are also at large in the domains for which he is responsible, which he takes as an act of war-’
‘Then he is blessed with wisdom,’ William interrupted. ‘For that is what it is.’
The messenger carried on as if William had not spoken. ‘You are required to depart these lands forthwith on pain of the most severe punishments.’
‘And if we refuse to go?’
The head went back slightly, as though the horseman had something untoward beneath his nose, and it was almost with a sneer he continued. ‘The catapan has good reason to believe you have been promised much in the way of reward for your illicit incursion, and he is conscious of the fact that you are mercenary warriors. In the spirit of Byzantium, which is known to be generous, he is prepared to pay to you, in gold, a sum sufficient to make up for what you feel you might lose, as long as you depart.’
‘But that would mean Michael Doukeianos knows what it is we want.’
‘What else but money?’ the envoy sniggered, his dark eyes narrowing. ‘What else do you Normans ever want?’
‘Respect!’ Humphrey yelled, stepping forward till he was right in front of the horse’s nose. ‘Enough to get off your damned horse and speak to us as equals.’
‘That would fly in the face of God’s purpose.’
William was about to point out, in a calm way, that insulting the men before him was not the job of an envoy and would hardly aid his task. He never got the chance. Humphrey’s mailed fist took the horse right between the eyes in a mighty blow that so stunned the animal it immediately dropped to the ground, poleaxed, taking the sniggering messenger with it. It was only by great good fortune that the fellow avoided one of his legs being trapped beneath it and crushed.
Throwing himself clear he hit the ground with a thud, and as he scrambled away from his unconscious horse, Humphrey grabbed him by the front of his silks and hauled him to his feet, pushing his nose guard right up against the fellow’s face.
‘Now you are where you belong. Learn, pig, never talk down to a Norman.’
When Humphrey let the fellow go, he nearly collapsed, so shaken was he by what had just occurred. The arrogant look had gone from his face to be replaced with one of complete shock. His mount was out cold, two stiff legs in the air, while it was clear the rider’s own pins were visibly trembling.
‘Hold him up, someone,’ said William. Mauger and Geoffrey stepped forward to stop him tumbling in a heap. ‘Now, you will go back to your master on a horse we will provide and tell him this. The way to Melfi is barred, and will stay barred by us. If he wishes to go there he must go through we Normans, which is not something that can be done without much bloodshed, and most of that will fall upon the men he has led here. Tell him to keep his bribe, for we do not want gold we can take at will in the future. He is free to withdraw to the coast and stay there, for this part of Apulia is no longer a fiefdom to Constantinople, it is Lombard. Is the message clear?’
The still-shaken envoy nodded.
‘Humphrey, fetch the poor fellow another horse.’
‘I’d make him walk, brother.’
William grinned. ‘Let us show Byzantium a courtesy they scarcely showed us.’
When the horse was brought forward, the fellow had to be helped to mount. Turning its head, Humphrey slapped it on the rump to get it going; the man on its back was still too much in a state of shock to get it moving himself.
‘Why did you punch the horse?’ Drogo rasped, clearly unhappy.
‘Because I’m not sentimental about them, like you.’
That was an argument the brothers de Hauteville had not heard for an age, but one they had heard too often, for it was a subject on which these two had clashed many times at home. Humphrey had no time for horses; he needed them, yes, and he trained them to do as they were bidden, but affection for them was beyond him. Drogo was the opposite: he had an affinity with equines of all kinds down to the most stubborn donkey. The only thing he loved more than horseflesh was women, the difference being the former never got him into trouble, the latter always did.
‘I hope the bugger comes round and kicks you in the head.’
Humphrey spat on the recumbent animal, which had at least opened its eyes. ‘If it does I’ll fetch you the same clout I gave him.’
Drogo moved forward, shoulder hunched and threatening. ‘You and who else…?’
‘Enough!’ William barked, his hand pointing to the smoke still rising into the sky. ‘We have enough fighting on our hands over there.’
‘Are we going to fight?’ asked Mauger.
‘Let us say, brother, we are not going to withdraw. So whether we fight or not is up to the catapan.’
If the message returned by his envoy was not delivered with clarity, there was no doubting the sentiment, and it presented Michael Doukeianos with a real dilemma. What he had with him was not a force any general would choose to take into battle: few, if any of those he led, had served before and they were not suffused with enthusiasm. The rest were new levies, but to withdraw was impossible.
Even if he had known his enemies had possession of Venosa and Lavello, it would not have changed his dispositions: that was an action he would have undertaken had he been in the place of the Normans. Such thinking had been built into his plan to outflank them, to get between them and the fortress. It was Melfi he was after, yet without surprise or a properly trained army, taking it would be near impossible.
As he paced his tent, watched by the captains he had fetched with him — none of them with much experience — he was aware he had to act, yet he suspected outright victory to be beyond his grasp. Up against mounted men, if he prevailed, and he thought he could do that — he outnumbered them by ten men to one — he could not inflict on them the kind of defeat that would force them out of his territory.
It was more likely they would see he was too strong and retire slowly before his advance, taunting him for his inability to pursue at sufficient pace to crush them, drawing him towards Melfi while inflicting the kind of losses on his army that would make it too weak to invest the place. That would leave him at the mercy of a combined Lombard-Norman force, far from safety and short on supplies.
The proper military course of action, now that surprise was gone, was to withdraw to the coast, send out his conscripting parties, set up training for those recruited and those to come in, build an army too formidable for his enemies to withstand, then begin a proper campaign to take back territory piecemeal. Never mind that the Lombards would join the Normans: Byzantium had beaten them too many times in the past to fear them. The Normans would stay in Melfi only as long as they were paid; the trick was to isolate them so that such rewards would be cut off.
Just as he knew that was prudent, he also knew it was impossible: those very Normans were in front of him now and they needed to be overcome, given the reputation for near invincibility which preceded them. The morale of his own host was a major consideration but there were others. To retire before some kind of success had been achieved would lead to a loss of face too great to stomach and it would not go down well at an Imperial Court where he would already be in bad odour.