‘I have to be open and say that the news, such a total overpowering of Byzantium, surprises me.’
Kasa Ephraim hid a smile as he watched Guaimar weigh in his hand the heavy leather purse he had just gifted him: there was a time he would have waited until his collector of the port had gone. The young man had become less discreet in his avarice, as well as more competent at calculation. Now he could handevaluate the contents and guess the amount of his secret revenues.
‘I thought it would take years, quite possibly a decade, and even then…’ Guaimar did not finish that sentence; it was not necessary. ‘So now we must, earlier than we suspected, see how this affects the Principality of Salerno.’
Watching him still, as he began to pace, the Jew could guess at some of what was on his mind: he would be concerned that his warning to Michael Doukeianos might be exposed by this sudden Byzantine reversal. Having arranged it, Ephraim was less so: it had been delivered with a discretion which was under his control, and by a ship’s captain who regularly bribed him to be allowed to smuggle, so he would say nothing. Any accusation from another source could be easily denied and put down to mischief-making by the Eastern Empire.
The other problem was more serious: having gifted oversight of the revolt to another, how could Guaimar, in light of the speed of this success, bolster his own claims to what might very soon be a nascent Lombard kingdom?
‘We are secure in the matter of sending word to Bari?’
‘You are very secure,’ Ephraim replied, with an emphasis on the first word that Guaimar did not miss.
‘I have let it be rumoured that Amalfi is responsible, by a claim to have been told to me by a fellow we racked, before putting him to burn at the stake.’
‘Then you have even less to fear, honourable one.’
‘The Prince of Benevento must be wondering what to do with Apulia.’
‘I would advise that it is not yet there for him to dispose of.’
‘Byzantium has been beaten.’
‘Defeated in battle, not yet beaten. They will not, I think, give up such a rich and fertile province without yet more effort. The revenues of the Adriatic ports alone are too substantial.’
‘You know this?’ Guaimar demanded. This Jew had sources of information which made his look pale; for Kasa Ephraim trade, risk and the contacts that went with it were personal. For the Prince of Salerno such activity, performed as it was by others, was merely political, which meant he relied, for information, on his courtiers. ‘I am, as you know, surrounded by people who do not always tell me the truth, they tell me what they think I want to hear.’
‘It is the fate of princes. Your council fear more for their place and their privileges. They also know rulers can be capricious.’
Guaimar smiled, which made human a face that had increasingly become solemn as he grew into his responsibilities. Few people spoke to him so directly as this Jew: only his sister, in truth.
‘You do not fear my caprice?’
‘I fear only my God.’
‘So, speaking the truth, advise me.’
‘Do not be hasty, honourable one.’
‘Are you saying I should not travel to Melfi?’
‘You have that right, but I think it too soon to make enemies. Better to make friends.’
‘Go on.’
‘Count Atenulf is a foil for his brother, is he not?’
‘Of course, no one would follow that fellow. I have heard he is a fool.’
‘A prince who is a vassal of the Pope.’
‘So?’
‘Apulia, in its religion, is mostly Greek. The people who live there, even those who are Lombards, after hundreds of years of Byzantine rule, look to the Patriarch in Constantinople for spiritual guidance. A Prince of Benevento, a vassal of Rome and a worshipper in the Latin rite, may not be to their taste.’
Guaimar nodded: what Ephraim was saying made good sense; even if it appeared the revolt was succeeding, nothing was yet settled.
‘I would also suggest that city states like Bari and Brindisi, even if the Lombard sections of the population are now in the ascendancy of opinion, have enjoyed so much privilege under Constantinople that they will be reluctant to bow the knee to anyone. In pledging to the revolt they may have acted out of prudence, not conviction. Their actions henceforth will be regulated by fear, and I doubt any Lombard prince can command enough force to compel deference.’
‘They would not see Amalfi as an example?’
‘They are much more formidable than Amalfi.’
‘So whoever wanted to rule in Apulia, unless they have an emperor to sustain them, would still need the Normans.’
Ephraim nodded, pleased that Guaimar obviously accepted the same constraint applied to him, without it having to be openly stated.
‘They are warriors you control through Rainulf Drengot.’
Guaimar smiled again, but it was more wolfish than his previous good humour. He would not admit to Ephraim he had been worried, unnecessarily so.
‘Let me travel to Melfi. After such a victory there will be much business to be transacted with those people, more than I can entrust to another. You should not venture out of Campania, but stop before the border.’
Guaimar’s eyes narrowed suddenly: those Normans would tell this Jew who handled their money things they would not impart to anyone else. Would he pass it on? ‘As long as you act for me.’
‘Honourable one, who else would I act for?’ The Jew then nodded to the bulging leather pouch on the table. ‘Quite apart from personal affection, there is the question of my own interest.’
‘Arise, Count Rainulf.’
Guaimar said those words in a soft and friendly voice, hinting that for his vassal to kneel to him was unnecessary. The man in question knew better: if he had not wanted a public display of fealty Guaimar would have received him in private instead of his audience chamber, and not subjected his old bones to the dipping. Seeing him struggle to rise again, one of his attendant knights stepped forward to aid him, only to be brushed away. He was not so aged he needed lifting!
Watching this, Guaimar could see that the years were continuing to take their toll of this one-time puissant Norman — or perhaps he had not yet recovered from his effort at the recent siege. Odd that his ears seemed so much bigger, and those on either side of a face now losing the ability to hold firm the flesh. The cheekbones were very pronounced now, in a countenance that had once been so puffy as to nearly conceal the eyes. Yet there was no denying his success: not only did he have Aversa and his rewards from Amalfi, but he had long ago replaced the Wolf of the Abruzzi as a bane to the great monastery of Montecassino.
Where the late unlamented Pandulf had ravaged monastery lands and beggared the monks, Rainulf was more measured in his actions, forcing the abbot to cede land, so that Rainulf’s most loyal followers gained much of their income not from his purse, but at the expense of the monastery coffers. Even that failed to ease the threat of Norman brigandage — only distant warfare did that — just as it did nothing for the transferred tenants.
Rainulf’s Normans had fought at Amalfi, but as soon as that was over, those not part of the garrison had gone back to raiding their neighbours. This Rainulf saw as none of his concern; he had to keep content men bred to war and in search of wealth, and with no war still to fight, and in consequence no plunder, this was his way of providing for them and stopping the discontented from sliding off to join William de Hauteville.
The Abbot of Montecassino had appealed to Guaimar to intervene, as he had to both Rome and the Prince of Benevento, but those were pleas made to deaf ears: if Rainulf’s unruly Normans were not occupied ravaging the abbot’s lands, they might well find temptation elsewhere. Let them stay out of Lombard territory. Letters had been despatched to the emperor in Bamberg, but he, newly elected and of tender years, was a man with much more pressing concerns in Germany; Italy could wait.