Jack Ludlow: Warriors

So the collector oversaw it, kept it from growing into a burgeoning problem, provided an occasional malefactor to be stoned by the mob, usually someone who had gone too far or tried to avoid paying a bribe, to prove to all he was carrying out his official duties, thus raising monies from the contraband trade that would otherwise have gone missing.

It was a duty the Jew had carried out for the young man’s father, providing him, too, with sums of money that were never seen by the treasurer who recorded the income of the duchy, or the chamberlain who helped his lord and master to spend it. It was a fact that even the richest magnate required funds which he could disburse in secret to increase or merely just to maintain his power. The one question never posed was how much the Jew took as commission for his services: nothing was ever committed to paper.

‘I received word, this very morning, that our Normans are close by Melfi.’

Kasa Ephraim nodded. He was a tall, good-looking man with, apart from a somewhat sallow Levantine complexion, none of the features so associated with his race. As well as his duties in the port he had become an unofficial advisor to the young prince: not part of his court, yet close to it, a man in whom Guaimar could confide without a record being kept of what was discussed, and one whose wisdom and discretion he respected.

‘But they do not yet have possession of the castle?’

Guaimar dropped his eyes then, so that Ephraim could not see the train of his thoughts: the Jew had sources of information every bit as good as those of his prince, perhaps, in some regard, even better. Had he made that assertion regarding the Normans from knowledge or deduction?

‘I await news. I hope also that the Prince of Benevento will accede to a request from Arduin, and give permission to Argyrus, the son of Melus, to raise his standard as leader of the revolt.’

The Jew was clever, Guaimar knew that, and, lifting his head again, he gave him a look from under half-hooded eyes, accompanied by an enigmatic smile, which implied much but conveyed little.

‘And if this is the case, what will it portend?’

‘Should it tell me more than the fact that the revolt in Apulia can proceed?’

‘I sense, honourable one, that it will give you cause to examine your policy.’

‘How so?’

Kasa Ephraim had become accustomed to this game, one the prince played with increasing frequency. It was natural as a head of state that he thought of nothing but the good of his patrimony, which in essence meant he indulged in a high degree of selfinterest, since the fate of Salerno and the fate of its ruler were inextricably intertwined. It was also the case that the public face he presented was often at odds with his private thoughts: there were things a wise ruler needed to keep even from his everyday advisors.

‘The forces that shape our destiny are many and varied, Prince Guaimar.’

‘And must be treated on their merits.’

‘Or faults, honourable one.’

‘Even if they take possession of Melfi, it will be some time before Arduin can launch any kind of deep incursion into Byzantine territory.’

‘And you are curious, I sense, as to how the catapan will react?’

‘It is my duty to be.’

‘I sense you would not now wish that which is about to fall upon him to come as a surprise?’

Guaimar smiled, an expression both full and satisfied. ‘You have, as usual, my clever friend, nailed the predicament. If I wish, and I do wish, the catapan to believe that Salerno has had no hand in this revolt, how can I reassure him?’

‘Only by forewarning him.’

‘Is that a wise thing to do?’

The strands of what the prince was saying were very obvious to a man who would have openly and proudly admitted to being in possession of a very devious mind. He also had much experience in the byways of other men’s thinking — the processes by which they justified to themselves acts of questionable virtue — a very necessary ability for one of his race in a Christian world that was not always overly fond of the Sons of Abraham.

Guaimar wanted to protect Salerno from any chance of Byzantine reprisals, which would surely follow if Arduin and his Normans failed in Apulia. It would be pointless to protest to a lack of knowledge after matters were settled in favour of Constantinople: he would not be believed. Were the Normans not from his fiefs, were they not men who had been in his service? The leaders, Arduin and this Argyrus, were Lombards, as was he, for Michael Doukeianos would soon discern that the latter was no more than a figurehead, and this might expose the tentacles that led back to Campania.

Yet Guaimar had a need to be careful: what if Rainulf Drengot found out that his liege lord had sent information to Bari, which he would certainly do if this matter was discussed openly in the prince’s council? Never mind his reservations about William de Hauteville, Drengot’s men were about to take over Melfi, and surprise was an advantage that would stand them in good stead when it came to the first encounters with the enemy, something that definite information given to the catapan would possibly destroy. An angry Rainulf might bring them back to fall on the man he felt had betrayed them.

‘If he is a wise catapan, honourable one, he might already know.’

‘You are saying he has spies in Salerno?’

There was no irritation in the question; both men knew the strands of Byzantine influence were long and deep, given they had once ruled in this part of Italy, just as they knew their own city. Constantinople had eyes and ears in every court that might pose a threat: Rome and Bamberg, home to the Western Emperor, especially. Salerno, Naples, Amalfi and Gaeta, all trading rivals on the Western Italian coast, each contained within them Greek traders, while substantial parts of their Italian populations still worshipped in the Orthodox rite and looked to the Greek not the Roman church for guidance. Loyalty was a movable feast even if you excluded payments for information.

‘We are a busy trading port, honourable one. Ships go in and out of Salerno by the fistful every day, and many go east to the Levant and the Bosphorus. It would be foolish to think some hint of Arduin’s intent has not left with them. The port, indeed any port, must be a hotbed of rumour and gossip.’

‘So no warning from me would serve?’

‘On the contrary,’ Ephraim insisted. ‘If what I suspect is true, and the catapan will be forewarned anyway, it would be sound policy that something of the same should come from you.’

There was a moment when both men ruminated on what the Jew had said: there was a great difference between gossip and hard, irrefutable fact. Michael Doukeianos would wonder if there was truth in the former; word from a Prince of Salerno would be taken as truth.

‘And Benevento?’ Guaimar asked.

Kasa Ephraim was at pains not to smile, for what Prince Guaimar had been saying so far was in the nature of being obvious. Now he had come to the salient point: here was the true nub of that at which he was driving. To inform the catapan of the involvement of Benevento could have unseen benefits, first by definitely diverting suspicion from Salerno, and secondly — and again this was based on the possibility of the failure of the Apulian revolt — with that information given early, any reprisals would be directed against his fellow Lombard prince and that could present opportunities in the aftermath, which might see the expansion of Guaimar’s territory at the expense of his neighbour. It never did any man harm to be on the side of the victor.

He did not smile, because he was too wise to let even his lord know of his thoughts, instead he looked grave. ‘We know from the past that the Eastern Empire does not forgive those who see it as its enemies.’