Jack Ludlow - Conquest

That was not something to which he could give much thought: this was to be his base for future operations into Saracen territory and an inspection of the fortification showed repairs were necessary. Once they had been completed and a suitable set of rooms made good for Judith, he detached thirty knights to guard the place and rode off with Jordan to seek out his enemies.

Had he stopped to enquire, Roger would have seen more than a surly population. All Greeks now, they had begun to think the Normans worse than the Saracen overlords who preceded them, more abrupt in their manner and too free with both the wine and the local women. Then there was the way they enforced their Roman rites in the church ceremonies, that causing more resentment than their unseemly behaviour. No sooner had Roger disappeared than the plotting started and he had not been gone a week by the time the first uprising broke out, signalled by the sudden disappearance from the castle of every one of the Greek servants, including the women who had attended Judith.

That first disturbance, a riot in the streets, was quickly brought under control, but was not, as his men thought, trouble snuffed out. Like one of those smouldering forest fires that plagued the surrounding hills in high summer, problems broke out sporadically and it began, with the help of Orthodox priests, to form into a proper rebellion, until the garrison of Troina had a full-scale revolt on their hands. The target of the insurgents was simple and would have been telling had they succeeded: the Greeks would capture Judith and use her to bargain with the Count of Sicily. Let him take his garrison, let him leave them in peace and his wife would be spared.

Sudden as it was, they had underestimated those with whom they must deal: the knights left behind were Roger’s own conroys, some of whom had come with him from Normandy, and his wife was of the same race — for her to show fear, for her to even think of discussing terms, was anathema. Neither were the knights guarding her content to be constrained: they sallied out to meet the rebellion head-on, fighting in the constricted streets and even narrower alleys, constantly needing to defend their rear as much as their front, determined not to be driven inexorably back towards the castle. More tellingly they got away a mounted messenger to tell their leader what was happening.

The numbers seemed too great to contest and were growing: it was as if every Greek in Troina were now fighting, men in the hundreds and getting more numerous by the day, making it increasingly difficult for the garrison to hold the upper town to keep the citadel safe. Operating as conroys, constantly attacking instead of waiting for the Greek assaults, they kept their enemies guessing as to where they would appear next and in what number, driving them downhill time and again.

Roger, besieging the nearby town of Nicosia, left as soon as he heard the news and flogged his horses half to death to get back to Troina, storming into the town and driving a wedge through the Greeks until he could join up with the men he had left behind, now sorely depleted and with every one of them carrying wounds, his first call to reassure his wife that, despite the loss of a third of the garrison, all was now well.

‘You are safe, Judith.’

‘I was not afraid, husband, do not ever think that I was.’

That got her a bear hug that lifted her bodily and he spun her round. ‘No, you would not be, but I need to leave you again. I must go out and assess the difficulties we face.’

His attempt to depart was stopped by a strong pull. ‘Go, but do not stay away too long. I have missed you.’

‘Not as much, my love, as I have missed you.’

‘I look forward to testing that,’ she breathed.

‘Damn you, woman, let me be till I am done with my work.’

‘Father?’

Jordan was in the doorway, looking anxious; if he had overheard that uxorious exchange he showed no sign of being abashed. It was something he had witnessed before and a fact much remarked on in the world in which they lived, Roger de Hauteville loved his wife and she demonstrably returned his feelings in equal measure.

‘I have been out in the lower part of the town.’

‘What!’

‘I went in disguise.’

Looking at his blond hair, Roger was angry. ‘You would need soot to hide your race.’

‘We do not just face Greeks. There are Saracens flooding into the lower sections. I think they have come to make common cause.’

Roger was out of the chamber immediately, Jordan at his heels, for this was, if true, very serious. His plan had been to wait until the morrow, then issue an ultimatum to the inhabitants, to come back to their allegiance or face his wrath, a telling threat given his numbers. But if his opponents were more numerous than he thought, such a warning might be wasted. As he exited the castle gate half a dozen men fell in behind him, following as he strode through the rapidly darkening streets, feeling as he did so the chill in the evening air.

It was as well he had that escort for, at every turn, he found his way blocked by mobs of armed men, as many Saracens as Greeks, an oddity since there was little love lost between them, which led to an unpleasant conclusion based on that sullenness he had experienced on first arrival: much as they despised each other they hated the Normans more.

Such a combination had another troubling facet: with both Greeks and Saracens against him, it indicated the whole country around Troina was hostile, which meant he was cut off from Messina and assistance. The option did exist to fight his way out and he knew, even if he sustained losses, he would succeed, but that meant the abandonment of Troina and that he could not countenance.

‘We are going to stay and we are going to wear them down,’ he said to his men assembled. ‘Everybody out and barricade the streets leading to the citadel, we must hold them away from the walls.’

‘Surely they are strong enough?’ Jordan asked.

That got the youngster a look from the more experienced knights: you did not question such commands in the situation in which they found themselves, even from someone as understanding as Roger — you obeyed them.

‘A lesson, Jordan,’ Roger replied gently. ‘In this kind of situation never let locals near your walls and always worry that one will betray you to your enemies if besieged. We have built on what was here before us and the Saracens built on what was here before them. If there is a secret way into this castle, or some flaw in the defence, who would know it best?’

‘Those who live by its side?’

‘And have done for generations. I have known boys climb cliffs to supposedly impregnable fortresses that would defeat the most puissant warrior. Why? Because they know the way, knowledge handed down from father to son and brother to brother. So, we will keep them behind barricades, which has the added advantage of forcing them to fight us in small numbers. On the concourse before the gates, we could be overwhelmed. Only if those barricades fail must we rely on the castle walls.’

They worked hard into the dark and through the night, fighting often to repel those who wished to contest their placements, incurring wounds but inflicting more. Carts were overturned, houses stripped of their timbers, even their doors pressed into service, anything used that would serve to block an approach, creating a barrier that could be defended. Roger, meanwhile, was in the storerooms, to assess the state of their provender. That done, and he satisfied they could hold out for a long time, he finally retired to bed. Judith, despite the hour, was waiting for him.

‘We are trapped, Judith.’

This was said as she lay in the crook of his arm, both of them in a blissful state of post-coital well-being.