by Jack Ludlow
The key to the city was the walled section called the Al-Qasr, the old town full of mosques and souks, with its own fortifications and a wall long enough to require a total of nine gates. It was a fact obvious to besieger and besieged alike, and the inhabitants were not content to just let their enemies attack. They sallied forth in desperation, employing much of their remaining strength, and in taking on Roger’s milities, showed themselves more than equal, driving them back.
Yet once again a measure of success was their undoing: they pushed too far and left themselves vulnerable to the Normans, now mounted and thus at their most effective. No Saracen horde, however brave and fired by religious fervour, had ever stood against Norman cavalry and this time was no different. They broke at the first charge, running for the gate by which they had emerged, only to have their fearful compatriots, seeing the fast-riding Normans in amongst them, shut it in their face, leaving them to be slaughtered against the walls, till not a man was left standing.
Robert, given a weakened defence, seized his chance: the great siege towers, seven in number, which had been waiting for such an opportunity, were trundled forward, though memories of Bari made many reluctant to climb them. It was, for a second time that year, left to the younger de Hautevilles, Serlo, Jordan and Bohemund, to lead the way. Swords and shields in hand, they rushed to the top and as they hit the walls began to fight with a degree of ferocity rare even for their race: they and the men they led knew that to do otherwise was to die.
Despite such efforts, Al-Qasr remained unconquered. Robert, good general that he was, had seen that with the defence before his family so strong, and given the recent Saracen losses, other parts of the walls must have been denuded. Telling Roger to press home the attack to pin the defenders, he led three hundred Norman lances to another part of the walls, hard by the port and his instinct proved right: they were undefended. Ladders were sent up and the ramparts scaled; soon the Normans were on the ground rushing to open the gates and allow Roger’s main body entry to the streets of the city.
Still the defenders fought on, but when night fell it was obvious the defence was broken. It was time for Palermo to seek terms.
EPILOGUE
The formal entrance of Robert de Hauteville into the city had to be ceremonial and it was so: he came dressed in a golden cloak and mounted on a magnificent horse. Followed by his family, with Roger near level to his brother, the Duke of Apulia and Calabria came to claim the last fief granted him by the Pope: he was truly now Duke of Sicily as well. Roger, who would henceforth be known as the Great Count of Sicily, had the satisfaction of knowing that in this conquest he had been the engine and he suspected that with the endemic revolts in Apulia, plus Robert’s desire to take Constantinople, the future conquest of the rest of the island was likely to fall to him. Robert would also have to deal with Richard of Capua, a contest too long delayed, as well as Salerno: miserable Gisulf would require to be chastised. But first, having listened to the oaths of future fealty, Robert had to address his new subjects.
That his words were coloured by his difficulties on the mainland did not detract from the significance; he had shown leniency at Brindisi and Bari, now it was time to do the same in Palermo. If the people conquered by the de Hautevilles had wondered how so few now held sway over so many, it was in a legacy that came down from their Viking forebears. Conquest was one thing, to hold that which you had gained and prosper from it another. William had known it, so had Drogo and Humphrey in their turn: be cruel if you must, but be light of touch where you needed to be.
‘Know this,’ Robert called from the steps of the emir’s palace. ‘No man shall suffer for what has happened here, no property save that which comes to me as your lord and master will be confiscated, and all I ask is that you pay me annually the tribute due to me as your suzerain. No one will bear any burden for their religious belief, no follower of the Prophet will be asked to convert, no mosque, save those which were originally Christian churches will be touched, the latter to be re-consecrated in the faith we hold to our hearts, and we will request to Rome for the appointment of an archbishop of this, the Pope’s new diocese. I desire only that we live together in peace and harmony and that you, my subjects, will abide by what laws that can make that a reality. My brother, the Great Count of Sicily, Roger de Hauteville, will be my supporter in this, and it is he who will hold for me these possessions. In all things, when he speaks, he does so with my authority.’
Roger was called forward to take a vow to uphold his brother’s commands, then Robert de Hauteville held up his hand as the priests began, for the first time in two hundred years, and under that gifted papal banner, to say the words of a Christian Mass in Palermo, this time in the Roman rite. To the men Robert and Roger led, kneeling and listening to the Latin liturgy, this was truly ordained by God, for the conquest of Southern Italy was complete.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
In writing the Conquest trilogy my admiration for the family at the centre of the story has grown and grown: has there ever been, in history, a brood like the de Hautevilles? I cannot think of one that managed to be so consistently successful, that with such meagre resources to begin with, conquered so much and rose to such heights. I am also amazed that in my searches I have not found this to be a story previously told in English fiction.
What I have written so far is only half their story – they went on to greater things, and because of their tolerance helped to create a court, centred in Palermo, which became the source from which sprang the Renaissance. There, Arab scholars worked alongside their European brethren in mathematics and science; there the lost ideas of Greece, which had been preserved in the East, were reintroduced to a civilisation emerging from what is known as the Dark Ages, making their way to the rich cities of Lombardy.
Yet how dark was it really? Evidence is plentiful of much travel – certainly pilgrims in their thousands traversed the highways of Europe, trade spanned the known world and there was an exchange of ideas that impacted on different cultures. Duke William of Normandy learnt from Italy and his confrères how to transport horses across water, information without which he might not have won the Battle of Hastings.
The reconquest of Sicily was possibly the first crusade, specifically blessed as such by the reigning pope to regain from Islam what had once been a Christian, albeit Orthodox, province. If there is a pity in what we know historically as THE Crusades, it is that the men who invaded the Holy Land did not have the compassion to follow the lead set by Robert de Hauteville in his capture of Palermo.
If they had, even the world we live in today would be a very different place. The Normans were Roman Christians, and some succeeding generations of the de Hautevilles cannot escape blame for their actions as crusaders: they did not follow the example of their sires. Not that those I have written about were saints, far from it. They lived in a cruel world and it would be incomprehensible to us to live like them, an existence where war, conquest and, if that was not to be had, destruction of the means of life were the sole occupation of a whole class of people.
The Normans were a warrior race, dedicated to conquest. The de Hauteville brothers campaigned ceaselessly both as mercenaries and lords in their own right, they were bloody and pitiless with their enemies, yet I cannot help but see a grandeur in their achievements, for they left behind something wholly unique. For all their faith in their Christian God, the sons of Tancred de Hauteville were not bigots.
I have plundered many a near contemporary informant to tell this story and invented as much besides, where no accounts exist. And it has to be remembered that those who wrote about the period did so when it was over and added to their tale the political needs they were determined to serve: some flattered, many did the opposite to a race and family they saw as agents of the Lord of Misrule.
For me, the tale of the sons of Tancred de Hauteville became the greatest story of war and conquest never told. I hope I have helped to correct that!
About the Author
&
nbsp; Jack Ludlow is the pen-name of writer David Donachie, who was born in Edinburgh in 1944. He has always had an abiding interest in the Roman Republic as well as the naval history of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which he drew on for the many historical adventure novels he has set in that period. David lives in Deal with his partner, the novelist Sarah Grazebrook.
By the Same Author
By Jack Ludlow
THE CONQUEST SERIES
Mercenaries
Warriors
Conquest
THE REPUBLIC SERIES
The Pillars of Rome
The Sword of Revenge
The Gods of War
Written as David Donachie
THE JOHN PEARCE SERIES
By the Mast Divided
A Shot Rolling Ship
An Awkward Commission
A Flag of Truce
The Admirals’ Game
An Ill Wind
Blown Off Course
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
13 Charlotte Mews
London W1T 4EJ
www.allisonandbusby.com
Copyright © 2010 by DAVID DONACHIE
(writing as Jack Ludlow)
Hardback published Great Britain in 2010.
Paperback edition published in 2010.
This ebook edition first published in 2011.
Map of Italy © DAVID DONACHIE
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1075–1
