Mercenaries by Jack Ludlow Page A

which with his broad nose, flabby cheeks and loose lips created an impression of a man naturally given to larceny.
    ‘It is the use of that which I seek from you.’
    ‘The gifts your father gave to us were made to Holy Church, my son. They are not my personal possessions of which to dispose.’
    ‘I must ask you, Your Eminence, how you think the church of Salerno will fare under the thumb of Prince Pandulf, especially if he discovers what you have withheld from him?’
    That got Guaimar a sharp look; was this boy threatening to reveal what had been withheld? ‘I fear we will not prosper. He is rapacious, as you know, and we have our garrison of Normans in your old home to enforce that which he wishes. They too prey on the tithes we receive, money which should be transmitted to Rome.’
    ‘And how would that same church, as well as Rome, fare under my family restored?’
    The head, already wobbly, shook with firm resolve. ‘A speculation, my son, for which I might pray, but I dare not hope.’
    ‘A speculation that might be worth investment.’ The old man did not reply. ‘There are powers greater than those of Pandulf.’
    ‘You refer to Bamberg and Constantinople?’ Guaimar nodded. ‘They are distant, my son.’
    ‘If they could be persuaded to take up our cause…’
    The interjection was quite sharp. ‘Our cause, Guaimar? I cannot see the Emperor Michael or his wrinkled harlot, Zöe, taking up our cause.’
    The nuances of that remark were profound: Michael was Byzantine Emperor by marriage, a young husband, risen from the position of secret lover to an empress in her sixth decade who had already exhausted one spouse. It was a liaison seen as typical of the corrupt court over which they held sway. Yet it was the other point that was significant to this cleric: Constantinople was the seat of the Orthodox Church.
    To seek redress there for the depredations of Pandulf of Capua would not sit well with a representative of the Vicar of Rome. The two versions of the faith might coexist and espouse harmony a thousand years after the Crucifixion, but neither welcomed encroachment. With troops from the east would come their faith, and this priest had enough trouble with the Orthodox religion as it was; a great number of the citizens of Salerno still practised in that discipline, a hangover from direct Byzantine rule.
    ‘I would, of course, prefer to seek help from the Western Emperor.’
    ‘Conrad Augustus is a good son of the Church.’
    A good son of the right church, Guaimar thought. Personally he did not care from where help came. Even as a Lombard, and the scion of a line that hadtried to rid themselves of Byzantium for a century, he would accept armed assistance from there if it could be had. Any eastern emperor might be seen as anathema to the Church of Rome, but he was less of a Satan than Pandulf. Yet what the archbishop was saying seemed plain: funds for a trip to Bamberg and the Emperor Conrad might be possible; money to seek aid in Constantinople was out of the question.
    Time was also of the essence; as children he and his sister, if they had been left in straightened circumstances, had also been left in peace. That could not last; being dragged to Capua proved that and Berengara was clearly at risk from Pandulf’s unbridled lust, which could descend upon her at any time. As Guaimar grew to full manhood Pandulf, who would see the youth was popular while he was not, would also see him increasingly as a threat. The archbishop must act, he must do so now, and the youngster could think of only one lever he could apply.
    ‘I would, of course, should I make my way north, pass through Rome to seek the blessing of Pope Benedict.’
    That made the old cleric look even more devious; the boy had named possibly the most tumultuous city in the whole of Christendom, east and west, yet it was a place where intercession could be sought. Not much in the way of armed help, but spiritual assistance. If this boy could get