‘I see nothing in the offing, Rainulf, that will give me the opportunity.’
The sunken eyes in that purple face looked serious then, and Rainulf looked over William’s shoulder to the road that led north.
‘Did I not tell you the day you arrived? Peace in these parts is a rare commodity, and my bones tell me that for a certain lord not too far distant, I might have come to be seen as a less than complete friend.’
‘And Montecassino?’
Rainulf understood the nuances of the question; they did not have to be openly stated, but he did not reply, instead posing a question. ‘What would you do?’
‘I think the answer to that is obvious.’
‘And if I ordered you to take part in its dismemberment.’
‘Then I would refuse.’
Rainulf slapped William on the back. ‘Good. I am glad to hear it.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Bamberg weather had cleared, the mist lifting as the temperature dropped on an icy east wind, and Conrad was off on his hunting again, dragging with him many of his advisors, which meant that the business of the imperial court, never rapid, slowed once more to a crawl. Several weeks went by while Guaimar waited for a chance to talk properly; all he got was the odd exchange in a chance encounter. Yet each night, in the great hall, lit by flaming torches and heated by blazing fires, a great crowd gathered to eat at the board of their regal overlord, a noisy affair in which normal conversation was impossible.
This Guaimar had discovered on sitting at the high table with Conrad Augustus before, especially when the emperor’s attention seemed to be concentrated on his sister, who was always close enough to his person to hold a shouted conversation. Her brother was not quite below the salt; indeed he was seated at the high table, but so far from the centre as to drown out any plea to Conrad. In the end, he had to appeal to Berengara to see if she could arrange a private interview, since when she called upon the emperor in his private part of the palace, he did not decline to receive her.
‘I do hope, sister, that you have not gone too far in charming Conrad,’ he said, when she confirmed that the emperor would see him the next day after mass, which, being Palm Sunday, meant not even he could justify going out to hunt.
‘I do not know what you mean.’
It was the fact that she would not look at him which made him sound harsher than he intended. ‘Yes, you do.’
The look he got in reply made him feel uncomfortable. Her eyes flashed with anger and her pursed lips were those of the spoilt child he so well remembered; if Berengara had anything of which she had reason to be ashamed, she was not going to gift him the right of chastisement.
‘Why are we here?’
‘You know that very well.’
‘And what weapons do we have to bend Conrad to our hopes?’ Guaimar did not answer; it was his turn not to look at his sister. ‘Few, if not none at all, so we must employ what little we have which favours us. I am as wedded to the removal of the Wolf as you, but if you wish to know my every move, and imply that I am misusing what gifts God has given me, I am forced to ask you why you brought me here.’
‘You know why, to aid me.’
‘In what way?’
Guaimar avoided an honest answer to that; to admit he had hoped she would melt stony hearts with her beauty was tantamount to admitting he was prepared to act as a pander for her. ‘I particularly wished to keep you safe from Pandulf. After what happened…’
Though she interrupted, it was not with any rancour; indeed her voice was soft. ‘Please, Guaimar, do not seek to deceive me. We are both engaged in seeking the same outcome. You have your title and your wits, I have what you sought to use.’
‘Has Conrad…?’ He could not say the words.
‘He has been kind, brother, considerate, and he has, thanks to me, acceded to my request that he see you.’
‘The price?’
‘Is one I am prepared to pay!’
‘So it has not been forfeit yet?’
Berengara gave him a smile then, an enigmatic one that revealed to him that she too was growing up, as he had had to. She was no child now. What it did not do was answer his question.
Guaimar knew Conrad had been deliberately keeping him at arm’s length, quite happy to talk in passing but never ready to sit, as he was doing now, and seriously discuss Pandulf or the situation in Campania. There was history here too, of course: Pandulf, for his previous treachery with Byzantium, had been a prisoner of his predecessor. Conrad had released the traitor on his accession, which he probably now felt to be a mistake, but not one to which an emperor could admit. The young man before him was asking him to alter a situation he had brought about.
So he listened politely while Guaimar enumerated the Wolf’s manifest transgressions, which apparently failed to make much mark on the emperor’s thinking. Not that he saw such behaviour as acceptable, it was just he could not be brought to see it as in need of remedial action.
‘I had an audience with the Bishop of L’Aquila. In fact, he confessed me before mass this very morning.’ Guaimar was not sure he believed that: Ascletin was so raw in the priestly line he doubted he knew the necessary words to say in a confessional booth. ‘You travelled with him, of course.’
‘And most pleasant it was,’ the younger man lied.
Conrad looked at him quizzically then. ‘Tell me, young Guaimar, you say you came only to me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘I do not follow.’
‘I am not the only source of redress, am I?’
‘You mean Byzantium,’ Guaimar replied, thinking it was Ascletin who had confessed in that booth this morning, not Conrad Augustus. The emperor sat back in his chair, making a gesture that demanded explanation. ‘I agree, I could have gone to Constantinople, but I believe it was my duty to come here to my suzerain.’
‘But you could also have sent to the Emperor Michael for aid, without actually travelling there. By ship for instance.’
He is stalling me, thought Guaimar; he is waiting to hear from his spies if Byzantium is prepared to intervene. The other thought he had was depressing: there was nothing he could do about it.
‘No eastern emperor since the great Basil enjoys the reputation that you have, Conrad Augustus.’ If he was flattered by comparison with the Bulgar-Slayer, who would have been a match for Charlemagne, Conrad took it as his due. ‘The late Emperor Romanos was a voluptuary by all accounts, ruled by the whims of the Empress Zoe. Her new husband, Michael, is little older than I, and I cannot see him as your equal.’
‘He is the brother of the eunuch who runs the court and that gives him power. Besides that, they say Michael is an ardent young buck and makes an old woman happy.’
‘Competence in the bedchamber is not what makes a man great.’
Guaimar had replied tersely, annoyed by the way Conrad was taking the conversation. He had no concern for the carnal joys young Michael gave to a woman thirty years his senior and it was, he knew, just part of the game Conrad was playing.
‘They have great resources, and a fleet that could put a force on Campanian soil in much less time than I can march there with an army, and they would dearly love to assert their authority there, as they have tried to do many times in the past. Even a youth and his frivolous old wife might be tempted by the prospect of detaching my imperial fiefs of Southern Italy from their allegiance.’
‘Are you suggesting, sire, that I have come to the wrong place?’
Conrad smiled, like a man who had spotted a trap and knew how to avoid it. ‘I am saying that your need is great, so perhaps it makes no difference who brings down Pandulf. You Lombards have bowed the knee to Constantinople before.’
‘Not with much joy.’
That got a sharp response. ‘My predecessor took an army all the way to the borders of Apulia to keep you free of the Eastern Empire, and it advantaged him nothing. I seem to remember Salerno sided with his enemies, and only acquiesced when faced by a host outside your walls too powerful to resist. The same blood flows though your veins.’