the Pope’s blessing on his endeavour,that would weigh heavily with the Emperor Conrad. It would also be possible to send to Rome with Guaimar news of how difficult life had become in Salerno, which might still the constant demand from the Pontiff for tithe money.
Moving indoors, the archbishop sat down, and put his conjoined hands before his face, as if in prayer; in truth he was examining Guaimar. Could this slip of a boy, with no experience, achieve that which he sought? Certainly he was a comely youth, with dark straight hair, even features in a sallow complexion and a pleasant disposition, so like his late father in his lack of martial bearing. Yet he also seemed to have on his shoulders a head older than his years, and in those almond eyes a hint of intelligence, so he might impress the Pontiff with his air of guileless simplicity.
‘You would travel alone?’
‘No, Your Eminence, I would ask my sister to accompany me.’ The raised eyebrow was question enough. ‘I would not expect her presence to aid me much in Rome, but should I be able to continue to Bamberg I have heard that beauty can melt hearts in a secular court. Perhaps, even if she is not yet mature, she can do that to a Holy Roman Emperor.’
‘And you will ask for?’
‘My title to be confirmed and for an imperial host to come south so Conrad can enforce his rights as the heir to Charlemagne.’
The cleric was a Lombard, as was this boy; the notion of seeking aid from any imperial court was not natural to a race that hankered after independence. That they should invite into their region either power showed just how much Pandulf had set matters on edge. The Dukedom of Naples, sandwiched between Salerno and Capua, would be next if the Wolf was not checked, the Lord of that valuable fief being fearful enough to seek to appease the Wolf, rather than antagonise him, with constant gifts of gold. He too, in such times, would accept help from wherever it could be found.
‘The Charlemagne claim is one that Constantinople has never accepted,’ intoned the archbishop, leaving Guaimar to wonder if a reprise of the obvious was a clerical trait. ‘They insist they have the rights of a suzerain in South Italy.’
Faced with that evident truth, the young man could only reply in kind. ‘They have not sought rights on the western side of the Apennines for a hundred years.’
‘But they respect no other claim. It would not do us good to have both emperors fighting over us, as they have in the past, like a dog bone.’
‘Would Byzantium send a host to contest that claim if Conrad was beyond Rome with an army?’
‘Unlikely, I grant you. But could even Conrad defeat Rainulf Drengot and his Normans? No one here has done so.’
‘I do not wish to defeat the Normans.’
‘Forgive me…’ the Archbishop protested.
Guaimar was fired up with the idea he had, and that made him cut across a man unused to such behaviour from a greybeard parishioner, let alone a callow youth. ‘They are mercenaries. We must find the means to purchase their support.’
‘Your father…’
The old man was interrupted once more.
‘Is dead! I am his heir, and it is my right to decide policy and it cannot be the same as that which brought him to an early grave.’
The priest was quite sharp; not even in rule did dukes talk over him. ‘You are heir to a patrimony in which you have no power, my son. You lack warlike qualities, so I do not see you as some great military captain scattering your enemies before you. Need I remind you that your father trusted Rainulf Drengot only to be betrayed? He gifted him a great deal for his loyalty, but that was not enough.’
‘I shall have to find something to give Rainulf which will bind him to my cause.’
‘And what could that possibly be?’
‘The answer to that lies elsewhere.’
‘Why do I have the impression that you are keeping something back?’
Guaimar was being evasive; he had an idea but it was one he did not want to
Moving indoors, the archbishop sat down, and put his conjoined hands before his face, as if in prayer; in truth he was examining Guaimar. Could this slip of a boy, with no experience, achieve that which he sought? Certainly he was a comely youth, with dark straight hair, even features in a sallow complexion and a pleasant disposition, so like his late father in his lack of martial bearing. Yet he also seemed to have on his shoulders a head older than his years, and in those almond eyes a hint of intelligence, so he might impress the Pontiff with his air of guileless simplicity.
‘You would travel alone?’
‘No, Your Eminence, I would ask my sister to accompany me.’ The raised eyebrow was question enough. ‘I would not expect her presence to aid me much in Rome, but should I be able to continue to Bamberg I have heard that beauty can melt hearts in a secular court. Perhaps, even if she is not yet mature, she can do that to a Holy Roman Emperor.’
‘And you will ask for?’
‘My title to be confirmed and for an imperial host to come south so Conrad can enforce his rights as the heir to Charlemagne.’
The cleric was a Lombard, as was this boy; the notion of seeking aid from any imperial court was not natural to a race that hankered after independence. That they should invite into their region either power showed just how much Pandulf had set matters on edge. The Dukedom of Naples, sandwiched between Salerno and Capua, would be next if the Wolf was not checked, the Lord of that valuable fief being fearful enough to seek to appease the Wolf, rather than antagonise him, with constant gifts of gold. He too, in such times, would accept help from wherever it could be found.
‘The Charlemagne claim is one that Constantinople has never accepted,’ intoned the archbishop, leaving Guaimar to wonder if a reprise of the obvious was a clerical trait. ‘They insist they have the rights of a suzerain in South Italy.’
Faced with that evident truth, the young man could only reply in kind. ‘They have not sought rights on the western side of the Apennines for a hundred years.’
‘But they respect no other claim. It would not do us good to have both emperors fighting over us, as they have in the past, like a dog bone.’
‘Would Byzantium send a host to contest that claim if Conrad was beyond Rome with an army?’
‘Unlikely, I grant you. But could even Conrad defeat Rainulf Drengot and his Normans? No one here has done so.’
‘I do not wish to defeat the Normans.’
‘Forgive me…’ the Archbishop protested.
Guaimar was fired up with the idea he had, and that made him cut across a man unused to such behaviour from a greybeard parishioner, let alone a callow youth. ‘They are mercenaries. We must find the means to purchase their support.’
‘Your father…’
The old man was interrupted once more.
‘Is dead! I am his heir, and it is my right to decide policy and it cannot be the same as that which brought him to an early grave.’
The priest was quite sharp; not even in rule did dukes talk over him. ‘You are heir to a patrimony in which you have no power, my son. You lack warlike qualities, so I do not see you as some great military captain scattering your enemies before you. Need I remind you that your father trusted Rainulf Drengot only to be betrayed? He gifted him a great deal for his loyalty, but that was not enough.’
‘I shall have to find something to give Rainulf which will bind him to my cause.’
‘And what could that possibly be?’
‘The answer to that lies elsewhere.’
‘Why do I have the impression that you are keeping something back?’
Guaimar was being evasive; he had an idea but it was one he did not want to
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