Authors: Jack Ludlow
From being in the depths of despond, the death of the Prince of Capua changed everything for Pope Gregory. Richard Drengot, retiring ill from the walls of Naples, lay abed and sinking for a month before, having made a deathbed reconciliation with the Church, he passed away. Jordan was well aware that to inherit his father’s titles as an excommunicate was impossible – it was a situation that could drag on for years and too many of his subjects, unlike those of Robert de Hauteville, especially those in the most valuable fiefs, were likely to listen more to their Roman priests than to a prince under anathema; he would have nothing but trouble and stood to lose everything. The siege of Naples was lifted forthwith, his plundering in the Abruzzi brought to a halt, and he headed immediately for Rome to make his peace.
The same news caused the
Guiscard
to worry because he was well able to read the runes. Jordan would do anything to get absolution and confirmation of his titles and that could include sending his forces to relieve the papal city. In an out-and-out contest he could best Capua, but it would not serve for the very same reason he had made peace with Capua before: the destruction brought on by such mutual enmity would only advantage their enemies. Yet for all his shrewd appreciation Robert failed to see how much pressure a ruthless pope like Gregory could bring to bear.
‘Do you not see, my son, how I am bound by my lack of the means to enforce God’s will?’
‘I find,’ Jordan replied, ‘just being in your presence humbling enough to make me ashamed of my own recent behaviour.’
Pope Gregory knew flattery when he heard it, just as he knew that this heir to Capua was dodging the point of his question. ‘You have committed serious sins, Jordan, and stolen much that was not yours to possess.’
‘All of which I brought with me to Rome, Your Holiness, and it awaits only your decision as to how it is to be disposed of. Either returned to those who I have sinned against, or held here in Rome to do the work which you so tirelessly pursue.’
This one has a silver tongue
, Gregory thought, so unlike his sire who had been a ruffian and abrupt in his opinions with it. But that bloodline argued a sharp mind as well, so there was no doubt that Jordan knew the direction in which the Pope was trying to edge him, in short into an open conflict with Apulia. He did not want to go there and it was a moot point as to whether he could be persuaded, for holding absolution over him could only go so far. Like Henry, if he asked for forgiveness it was the prelate’s duty to grant it unless he could be absolutely sure such pleading was a lie.
‘It troubles me that my city of Benevento is not safe, Jordan.’
The younger man was quick to latch on to that but he was not going to fight the
Guiscard
; as a way of losing his titles it was, in the long term, as near certain as refusing to beseech the Pope. He recalled how Bohemund had been brought to Montesárchio and what had been his father’s suggested way of dealing with him. He spoke now, with that air which meant he was making an enquiry, not suggesting a course of action.
‘Perhaps, Your Holiness, the best way to protect Benevento is to provide a distraction.’
‘And what form, my son, would such a distraction take?’
‘Encouragement in certain quarters.’
The new Apulian revolt did not break out for several months; it took Jordan, who was moving cautiously in any case, time to suborn the men who would rise against the
Guiscard
, as even those willing, such as Peter and Abelard, needed an excuse that would bring others to their banner. The thought of seeking to involve Bohemund was discarded; he had shown no inclination to rebel when he had no authority, now he was Lord of Taranto and one of his father’s most trusted supporters, which led Jordan to surmise he would act to protect his father rather than seek to bring him down.
Capua needed an excuse and it was Robert in person who provided the pretext for revolt by demanding from his vassals, as was his ducal right, that they contribute funds to support the cost of his daughter’s forthcoming marriage to a high French noble and in this he was a touch too avaricious, determined as he was on magnificence, if not willing to spend his own treasure. This aim for grandeur at the expense of others raised once more the spectre of a family getting above themselves, and the talk of bringing the de Hautevilles to a proper realisation of their true standing, from men who felt their bloodline at least equal if not superior, began to spread.
Good sense dictated they wait till the liege lord was absent in furthest Calabria with his familia knights as well as his two sons, both the bastard and the legitimate
Borsa
, before striking home – he was raising money there too to cover the wedding costs. Though the uprising was widespread, Peter was the first to move and constituted
the most serious problem by retaking his old fief, sure that he could secure it and make it impregnable before Robert reappeared.
The restored Lord of Trani had reckoned without Sichelgaita, who was much more than a mere decorative duchess. Robert and Bohemund were tied down, having laid siege to Otranto, and both were too far off to help, so, gathering every available loyal lance, she descended on Peter at the head of her own army before he could consolidate his hold on the port city, and her siege tactics were so successful and speedy he was obliged to flee and join the other perennial rebel, Abelard, who held Loritello.
It took a long winter campaign to bring the rebels under control, involving siege after siege and march and countermarch to contain something which acted like a forest fire that broke out in unexpected places. His disgruntled vassals, seeing their liege lord occupied elsewhere, rose in revolt in Apulia when he was in Calabria and vice versa, each one doused. But it had an effect on their suzerain; while he was prepared to pardon these new dissenters, the
Guiscard
let it be known that this time the repeat miscreants like Peter and Abelard would pay with their lives – there would be none of the previous magnanimous forgiveness.
But there was one other problem that had to be dealt with and that was Capua; Jordan was clearly behind things, at the instigation of the Pope, but taking no active part when he had many opportunities to do so. Robert, when he felt that he had reached a point of real superiority, when the senior rebels had fled over the Adriatic to Durazzo, once more sent Bohemund to negotiate with him in the company of Desiderius, who, as ever, had tried throughout to bring them to an understanding.
‘My father holds no grudge against you, Jordan.’
There was a close examination of the man as he spoke, to see if elevation to the title had made any difference. What Bohemund observed was a degree of reserve brought on by, he thought, discomfiture at Jordan having acted as he did, given he was not the only one present who knew the truth; Abbot Desiderius was just as aware of the hand of Pope Gregory in what had so recently occurred.
‘And what does he propose?’
It was the Abbot of Monte Cassino who answered. ‘That you renew the peace he had with your late father.’
Jordan addressed the layman, not the divine. ‘He requires no indemnity?’
‘He asks only that you cease to support those who would rebel against him—’
‘Are there any left, Bohemund?’ Jordan interrupted, showing just a trace of his old, more light-hearted nature.
‘… and that you give those who are now fleeing no succour by allowing them to reside in your possessions.’
‘And what, Abbot, will His Holiness say to this?’
Unbeknown to either of the others, Desiderius was in Capua as much to represent Gregory as the
Guiscard
. The Pope, now that his hopes of a successful Apulian rebellion had crumbled, had been forced to once more turn his eyes north, where Henry was succeeding in a way he had not foreseen: he was beating his rebels.
‘It has ever been the task of Holy Church to promote peace, my son.’
It was a measure of their increasing comfort in the world of diplomacy that both Jordan and Bohemund took this barefaced falsehood without a reaction. Jordan knew that in the case of Desiderius, the older man spoke a truth to which he could hold, for
he always had. Bohemund, having only just met him, thought he was as dishonest as his papal master. That counted for nothing; let him lie if he must, as long as he could return to his father with the right result.
‘I might add,’ Desiderius said, ‘that I am here on behalf of His Holiness as well as Duke Robert. It is his strong desire that these disruptions should cease. He wishes Capua and Apulia to be at peace and has asked me to bend all my efforts to achieve this.’
‘Why?’ Bohemund demanded abruptly, breaking the air of diplomatic harmony.
‘There can only be one reason, Abbot Desiderius,’ Jordan interjected. ‘And that is he has troubles elsewhere.’
Not wishing to admit that was true, the elderly abbot held his hands open, palms out, while on his face was a look of resignation. Whatever it implied, it was enough for Prince Jordan and peace was restored.
For Pope Gregory, matters went from bad to worse. Having put a cap on his own rebellion, the Emperor-elect called a synod of all those bishops and cardinals who both lived within his domains and quite naturally, for the sake of their continuation in office, owed him fealty. Along with those princes who had so recently threatened to depose him they proclaimed Gregory’s election illegal and elected an antipope called Clement, putting the Church once more into schism. The next step for Henry, once more excommunicated, if this time ineffectually, would be to descend on Rome to have himself crowned Emperor by his own Pope.
Gregory needed the Normans and he required them to be united and on his side, more the powerful
Guiscard
than the Prince of Capua
who had so singularly failed him. Ever an intensely proud man – he had stood on his dignity at Benevento seven years previously by refusing to meet with Duke Robert – he had to accept that there was now no time for such conceits. Yet he was not prepared to grovel and the melting of enmity took much time. Messages were sent but in a subtle way, as in an invitation for any magnate with grievances to bring them to his attention. As usual Abbot Desiderius was brought into the equation to smooth ruffled feathers until finally a meeting was arranged.
For the first time since Gregory’s election, Robert de Hauteville walked into the same room as his papal suzerain, there to kneel and do homage as he had to Gregory’s predecessors for his ducal titles of Apulia, Calabria and Sicily. No mention was made of Amalfi or Salerno; apple carts were required to remain stable not overturned, but in remaining silent upon them it implied a tacit agreement regarding their legitimacy. As he held Robert’s hands in his, seeing how puny were his in comparison, and pronounced the required prayers over his bowed head, Gregory could be forgiven for enquiring if God was truly on his side.
If the places Robert had taken in defiance of Gregory were ignored there were still matters to discuss. Letters had to be composed and sent to Bamberg to let Henry know, without in any way sounding like an outright threat, that the
Guiscard
was concerned about the election of a pope to replace Gregory. Clement was a man in whom he could repose no faith – as good a way as any of telling the Emperor-elect that Rome was under Norman protection and that any attack on the city would be met with as much if not more force as any he could bring to bear.
Gregory had been satisfied on that concern but he still had all his
usual concerns in the East. With the Holy Sepulchre in the hands of people he saw as heretics, problems were bound to surface. There were an increasing number of grim stories of Jerusalem pilgrims being badly ill-treated, denied access to the holy places, assaulted and robbed and even in extreme cases facing the enforced demand to convert to Islam. Had not Robert and his brother Roger dealt with that problem in Sicily by taking back the churches made into mosques? For all their efforts, the Pope was irritated that the infidels were still allowed to freely worship throughout the island, adding that he felt Count Roger could also do more to bring those of the Orthodox persuasion into the bosom of the Roman Church.
Robert brushed aside these concerns but got a blessing for what he proposed next, which would create difficulties for the still-excommunicated Emperor Botaneiates, who was struggling to hold his place in the face of constant threats and had also failed to shore up the Byzantine Empire. In the main it was a satisfied Duke of Apulia who left his suzerain; he had, after all, everything for which he had come. Gregory, still working hard on his notion of religious reconciliation between Rome and Constantinople, had kept up the pressure without once ever offering any concessions and what was proposed to him, nothing less than an invasion of Illyria, appeared a good way to concentrate minds in Constantinople.
It was irritating that
Borsa
, whom Robert had been obliged to bring along as his heir, seemed to incline to the papal point of view regarding both what was happening in Jerusalem, as well as the papal opinion on Sicily. He seemed willing to believe what he was told and less ready to give credence to his father’s assertion that, when it came to the Holy Land, although pilgrims to the city faced difficulties – and how could they not? – much of what had been propounded was,
as far as he knew, exaggeration. That it was so suited Gregory and his ilk; the spreading of this embroidery was used to drive home his desire for a great Eastern crusade, in which the whole of Western Christendom was being called to participate.
‘It would be a noble thing to do, Father,’
Borsa
opined, as they made ready to take the road back to Salerno. ‘To have in our possession the place where Jesus gave his life so that we could be saved.’
‘All this blather about a crusade is so much stuff. Gregory talks as if the distance to Palestine is the same as crossing the sea from Reggio to Messina. You tell me how we are to get any army to the Holy Land and maintain it there?’