by Jack Ludlow
‘We have that right with those who will oppose us, not with the people who will rally to our standard. Now let us eat our Lombard friend’s food and drink his wine, and show him all respect, for without him to secure for us a force of milities we will have little.’
Both Arduin and William de Hauteville departed the next day, the Lombard to spread the word of revolt, while William rode out, without helmet, hauberk or lance, to examine the whole area around Melfi with an experienced military eye, aware that, for all he had ridden through these parts, he did not know the terrain well enough.
Formidable castles had fallen before, and to his mind, given equal force, the Norman advantage lay outside stout walls, not within them. Already a piquet had been sent to climb the heavily wooded slopes of Monte Vulture, to man the round stone redoubt on its barren peak, thankfully now clear of snow, which had within it a warning beacon that would tell the Melfi garrison of the approach of any substantial force from the Apulian heartlands, giving them the choice of what action to take to thwart it.
He rode first to the east, which dropped away from the high hills that surrounded Melfi to the fertile lands and rolling landscape which led to the lush plains of Apulia, looking for those places where an army could properly and advantageously deploy, examining each valley to see how it could be used by cavalry to outflank an enemy, with the obvious corollary that it could also be used by them to the same purpose. He also needed to seek out those places where an attacking force could rest: open land, well watered, for no army could exist without that precious resource.
William de Hauteville sought to put himself in the mind of an enemy commander, and a competent one, to see the terrain from their point of view. How would he come to Melfi, how would he sustain a siege? It was obvious that one of the strengths of the place was the lack of ability to do the latter in any true proximity to the fortress, to keep enough force outside the walls, to feed and supply them over broken country that was just too far from that endless fertile plain.
Also, in each well-pastured and crop-sown valley he studied, William calculated what it would take to turn it into a desert, which is what would be required to frustrate his opponents should they seek to invest the Normans: to destroy yields in both field and store room and so deny them to the enemy, forcing them to forage far and wide. The peasants who had toiled to reap and sow the land he examined would suffer, but that was their lot: God must care for them, for he could not.
He was sure any threat would come from the south or east but that did not obviate the need to look elsewhere, and to that purpose he rode slowly north into less bountiful country, looking for anything approaching the same ground conditions. There were few of those in a landscape mostly consisting of rock-strewn hills interspersed with thick woods. Where it was cultivated there was little in the way of flat ground, instead steep and rolling fields, small in size and with the same high hedgerows he knew from home, separated by an occasional clump of trees, which hid the narrow streams and watercourses that fed them.
Any dwellings tended to be of the sod hut type, part sunk into the ground and buttressed with stones, the roofs of some made of thatch, the poorer ones of turf, all placed on hillsides close to rivulets of running water and surrounded by dry stone walls which acted as animal pens; the locals went out to their fields at dawn and retired to the safety of their hut at night, when bears and big cats, not to mention wolves, were out hunting.
They were in those fields now and as he passed by he could see them toiling, at this time of year working to keep at bay the pests that would, if left to prosper, ruin their crops, and it was with some gratitude he thanked his Maker that he had been born and raised to be a warrior. He might respect those who worked the land for their devotion to their drudgery, but he had no notion or desire to join them.
To the north, still within sight of Monte Vulture, the landscape was even more broken, bordering as it did on the mountains, and while some slopes were heavily wooded, at a certain height that gave way to heath where scrub proliferated and no crops could be grown, a place where only goats and sheep could graze, while above that the slopes were barren screed that would be snow-covered in winter. Though he saw no one, he surmised there would be shepherds and the like who could observe him, and if they could they would also see his sword, as well as his blue and white shield of that teardrop shape peculiar to Normans, and mark him as a man to avoid.
The chance of any substantial force coming from this direction was remote. It was too infertile, but William was determined to examine every possible avenue, and that was best done from high ground and, with a wearying mount, on foot. The walk up a narrow track, no doubt cut by herded animals, which led from one valley to a high peak, then down to the next, was steep, even more so on the bare hill to one side.
It was from that direction the thundering, rolling noise came, a large near-round stone, loosing smaller rocks as it raced with increasing pace towards him. His mount, spooked by the noise and with no rider to exert control, reared up and spun to face back down the path with enough force to nearly pull the reins from his hand, and that left William on the horns of a dilemma: if he fought to control his horse they might both perish, so he grabbed his shield, which he had looped round the saddle horn, let the reins go and smacked the animal hard to add to its desire to escape. Then he turned to face the increasing avalanche of rocks.
The boulder which had set off the rush, being the largest, was the most dangerous, for if lesser rocks might maim him, that would kill. Even concentrating on that for no more than a couple of seconds, he saw something behind it, a movement which registered the outline of what looked like a human head at the very top of the slope. Such an observation did not allow for delay: given what was coming his way, there was only one method of survival – shelter – and he began to bound downhill ahead of the inundation, towards the treeline, looking for something large enough behind which to hide.
Only one outcrop, though it looked too small, appeared to give him even half a chance, but there was no time to seek out anything else or make the treeline so he dived behind it, cowering under his shield, trying to claw his way into the unyielding moss which covered the ground to increase his chances. The smaller rocks began to bounce off the shield immediately, each with a resounding thud, and it was only good fortune that those big enough to immolate him either missed his shelter or, on hitting the slab of near-flat rock behind which he lay, bounced enough to clear his shield. In seconds the roar of the avalanche had faded to be replaced by the sound of tearing wood as trees were smashed to splinters. Then there was silence, and with some trepidation William stood upright and, taking out his sword, even if he knew it to be useless, looked up the hill, wondering who it was who had tried to kill him.
He saw not one head, but two, silhouetted against the skyline for no more than another second, which made him turn away quickly to give the impression he had seen nothing. Sword and shield still in his hand, he began to jog down the slope into the trees, then turned to follow downhill, as closely as he could, the line of the path, knowing that somewhere below he would find his horse.
The animal, once clear of the perceived danger, had stopped at the first open patch of decent grass and was now grazing contently, though in the way horses do, it had a wary eye on him as he approached, as if trying to sense his mood. It shied away only once, as if to denote independence, but a sharp word from a man who had owned and ridden the beast for years made it stand still and put back its ears in disquiet, as though it was aware of having let him down.
If it expected to be chastised, no harsh words came: if William could not have stood still in the face of that rush of stone, why should a more fragile horse? Trained for combat it might be, but it was no destrier, endlessly exposed to noise and threat so that it became fearless. This was a lighter mount bred for movement, fleet of foot but still a prey animal that saw danger everywhere and was blessed – or was it cursed as all equines were? – with near all-round vision. So it was
patted and spoken to with gentleness, until those flattened ears were once more up and pricked. Back in the saddle, William made no attempt to retrace his route: instead he headed away from that rising path, along the valley floor in the cover of as many trees as he could find, at an easy trot.
Once he was round the base of the hill he spurred his mount into a faster pace, and emerging from the trees he looked for a way to get to the obverse side of the hill by a longer route, and one that would allow him to do so at speed. Somewhere out there were the people who had set that boulder in motion and there was a very good chance they were on foot. Being on a patch of cultivated land, cleared of obstacles, allowed him to set his mount to a steady canter, and in a short time he could see the entrance to the next valley.
That was when he gave his mount its head, aware that the sound of his hooves on what was soft polder would carry, which might just flush out his quarry on what he could see was an equally wooded lower slope. Even if there was no one to yet chase, there was exhilaration in the mere act of galloping; being a responsible military commander did not allow many opportunities to indulge in such as this: a pleasure he had enjoyed many times as man and boy, bent over the straining neck, the wind whistling in his ears, knowing that each thudding hoof on this forgiving ground would send up a clod of mud to rise in the air behind him, aware also that his horse, like all its fellows, loved to run flat out.
If the pair had stayed in the trees he would have had a hopeless time trying to spot them: it was foolish to break cover and try to outrun a mounted man. The other fact which registered as soon as he espied them was that one was either a dwarf or a boy-child, while the other was shaped like, and ran like, a female. William had his sword out again, and given his mount was tiring he needed to spur to maintain his speed. The child was falling behind and when the other turned to take a hand and help he saw, indeed, that it was a female, a girl not a woman, of no real age.
Time seemed to slow: William saw the dark eyes and tangled long hair, as well as the terror at the sight of his sharp, broadsword blade, now held out from his side in a way that, swept in an arc, would cut in half anyone with whom it made contact. He was sure he could hear rasping breath as well as a gasp of fear as he closed with the pair, who sought to make a sharp turn to thwart him. Letting his mount slow, William hauled it round inside its own length and closed with both his quarry, now so close he could hear the screams of the child, still lagging behind, even being near dragged.
Coming alongside now, William’s blade swept down, turned at the last moment, with him reaching low, so the flat of it took the running boy on the buttocks with enough force to knock him to the ground. Then he was ahead of both and turning, hauling on his reins and pressing with his thighs to take all forward movement out of his horse so he could block any continued flight, forcing it to rear and stop.
The falling boy-child had dragged down the female, and she had fallen to her knees, head down, but that did not last, and when she looked up at the now stationary rider the near black eyes had in them no trace of fear, more of hate. Breathing heavily from his own exertions, as was his mount, William dismounted and, sword to the fore, demanded of them who they were, using Greek. When that brought no response he tried his limited Italian, another failure which had him attempting to get an answer in Latin, the most common language of the world in which he lived, but one he knew before he spoke was unlikely to elicit a response.
In doing this he was able to examine the still-kneeling pair, taking in their rag-like, dun-coloured clothing which covered their undernourished frames, the filth with which their skin seemed ingrained, that on a dark colouring which denoted an outdoor life, as did their hair, black and matted, their feet bare. The boy could not have been ten years old, but being of stunted growth made it impossible to be sure; the girl was older and beginning to show signs of maturity, and it was to her he barked his enquiry.
Getting no response, William was at a loss what to do: a pair of adult men would now be dead, their heads lopped off while he was still mounted, but he could not bring himself to do the same to this pair, even if they had, it seemed, tried to kill him. Or had they? He had not seen them dislodge that boulder – it could well have been an accident – yet in the eyes of the girl was a look of such deep enmity that implied such a thing was not the case.
Given where all this had happened, in this high country, they were likely to be of shepherd stock, at the very least peasants from a hard-won farm. Their background made no odds: if they had tried to kill him, they should be punished. That they had no idea of his name and position meant nothing: his dress and the fact that he was mounted and armed marked him out as a person from a far superior station in life. The other obvious fact added to his quandary: they very likely spoke a mountain dialect of some language of which he had no knowledge. He had a requirement to find out what had occurred and why, and that could only be achieved by taking them back to Melfi, where there was likely to be someone with whom they could communicate.
The girl finally spoke, in a stream of words that made no sense to the man standing over her, but then, if he knew not precisely what was being said, there was no doubt it was not a fond greeting. The words tumbled out in a stream of what sounded like bile, and whatever she said set the boy-child to tears, which tumbled down his cheeks making furrows in the filth. William swept an arm down and grabbed the boy with enough force to detach him from someone he expected was a sister rather than a mother, which turned what sounded like invective into spitting screams.
Making for his horse, William threw the boy over the front of his saddle and swiftly mounted, aware as he did so of his back being pummelled by the girl: she was certainly a feisty creature and despite what had occurred William could not help but smile, which when aimed at her, sent her into even greater paroxysms of fury. Shouting to silence her he set his mount into a walk, knowing that she would follow: if she had gone to that much trouble to save the boy before, she would not abandon him now.
The sight of the great warrior, William Iron Arm, riding slowly through the steep streets of Melfi, broke the indifference the locals had adopted as a way of reacting to the Normans. The boy, who had fallen silent long before, seeing or sensing the curious people, began to wail loudly once more, again in an incomprehensible tongue, as if by doing so he could persuade them, the townsfolk, to free him. The girl, having walked and cursed for too long, was now too exhausted to utter a word.
That wailing attracted even more of the locals and before long William had a trail of townsfolk at his rear, and he was aware of much angry muttering; what was the boy saying he had done? The crowd stopped walking, if not carping, as men came down the causeway that led up to the castle to observe at close quarters a sight to which they had been alerted by the sentinels, all tall Normans eager to see what it was their puissant leader was doing with these two grimy creatures, and those who had known and served with him long enough to be aware that he was a man who could take a jest began to praise him for the capture of such dangerous foes.
Laughing out loud, William replied, ‘Have a care I don’t let this boy loose to scratch out your eyes. Now do me a good turn and find someone in the town who has some knowledge of the mountain dialects.’
When the men around him would not cease to laugh, he barked the same request as a command, which was quickly obeyed, a pair of Normans barrelling down to demand help from the still-gathered crowd. That took some time and persuasion: no one in Melfi wanted to enter the castle for fear that, with the devils at present in charge, they would never re-emerge. The gap gave time to enter the keep and dismount; it also gave his brothers, who had no fear of him at all, a chance to take over the ribbing.
‘You like them dirty,’ hooted Humphrey, quite failing to make humorous what was intended as a jest. ‘What is it to be, the boy or the girl?’
‘I think you should wash the girl,’ said Drogo, who had an eye that could see something to attract him under the dirt and rags. ‘Perhaps I should throw
her in the trough.’
‘You’re welcome to try, brother,’ William replied, holding the wailing boy-child by the scruff of his smock. ‘Me, while I will do battle with any Byzantine who comes near, will leave that to men of more courage.’
‘You fear a slip of a girl?’ asked Mauger, approaching her, only to recoil, to the accompaniment of much sibling mirth, when she went for his face with her outstretched nails, that before she spat at him.
‘Has anyone taken a woman yet?’ William asked.
Even Drogo de Hauteville was forced to deny that, and he was the most salacious of the brood, never happy to sleep alone.
‘There are some matrons in the castle kitchens,’ said Humphrey.
‘I’ve seen them,’ hooted Geoffrey, ‘arses like a plough horse and arms akin to tree trunks.’
‘Just your sort, then,’ Drogo retorted, nodding to indicate that behind his brothers, the men who had gone to find someone who understood the local dialect had returned with a very unhappy-looking local, an elderly fellow of greying locks and, judging by his clothing, some prosperity, who had knowledge of both Greek and Latin.
What followed was something of a revelation: there was not a Norman present who thought themselves loved, but in interrogating this girl – the boy, indeed identified as a brother, was too young – the level of hate was enough to induce a degree of increasing anger, given that all present could hear what was being imparted. The girl did nothing to deny trying to kill William, and was only too happy to say why, making very uncomfortable the fellow who had to relay her words, while no doubt trying to hide the fact that he wholly shared the sentiments.
No crime was left unmentioned – if this adolescent had never seen a Norman, she had heard of them – even if it emerged in a stuttered, inchoate way: rapine that included the torching of crops and stored food, the chopping down of vines and olive trees, the slaughter of livestock, theft, the torture of innocents, the hanging and mutilation of men, women and children, with those not so treated left to starve over a foodless winter, and, if any women survived, to bear, the next year, the bastards caused by forced conception.