Warriors by Jack Ludlow

Normandy disunited plays into the hands of the Franks. Duke William, even fully grown to manhood, must ever depend on King Henry for support against his own barons; yet Normandy united, he has the power to ignore Paris, like every ruler before him. I have advised the duke, because I was raised there and know the region, that if the Contentin is to be tamed, he must win support there or placate it with fire and sword.’
    ‘That would be wise, whichever course is chosen.’
    ‘And that denying the de Hauteville family advancement, men who are respected there and fight for his cause, does not serve.’
    There was a twinkle in Tancred’s eye as he responded. ‘Not to mention that a peaceful Contentin, wholly loyal to the duke, would finally allow for the appointment of a Bishop of Coutances.’
    That stopped the clerical pacing: the Contentin had been the last place settled by the invading Norsemen. Count Rollo, still, in truth, a pagan despite his conversion to Christianity, was never happier than when despoiling monasteries, churches and cathedrals, and he had ravaged the western part of the old province known to the Romans as the Neustrian March with glee. Not only had he stripped them oftheir portable wealth, he had stripped them of their landholdings, handing them out to his supporters, like Tancred’s grandfather.
    But Mother Church had never ceased to reclaim them, as well as the right to parcel it out to its own vassals and had, now, a receptive ear at a court more pious and Christian than that of old Count Rollo, more inclined to side with the church against laymen. The answer to the dispute lay within the boundaries of the Bishopric of Coutances: nothing could be decided without the incumbent overseeing proceedings and judging claims. To ensure none could be settled, suspecting it would not be in their favour, the local barons had ensured for decades that no appointed bishop ever took control of his see. Some elevated clerics had tried, only to be chased out of the Contentin at the point of a sword.
    Montbray was shaking his head now, but not in irritation. ‘I told our young duke that the de Hautevilles had two valuable assets, their ability in battle and their guile. The see is vacant, and there is no great desire in my fellow clerics to take possession of it. If I can have it, I will.’
    ‘I trust any claims made against my demesne would get a fair hearing, should you do so?’
    There was no question what Tancred meant: to him a fair hearing could only mean one that came down on his side. ‘I think you would be satisfied with myjudgements, Uncle. As for others…’
    ‘What care do I have for others, my boy?’ Tancred scoffed. ‘Let them look to their own.’
     
    It was under torchlight that the sons of Tancred met their duke, the only one he could truly look in the eye until they were on bended knee being Roger. Close to, the ten-year-old was more impressed than hitherto, as much by the surroundings full of luxury as the majesty of those present, including King Henry. The interview was short, but the words used were important: William of Falaise was sure he had need of men, such as these brothers, to serve him close and much would be gained from a Contentin at peace. So that it was with high step they left the pavilion, to be met by an exuberant father, who knew what those words truly meant. Rebellious barons would be defeated and dispossessed: what lands they owned would go to the duke’s loyal servants and his boys would be amongst them.
    To celebrate was natural, and that they did, the effect of the apple wine on each very different. Tancred, before he fell asleep, became maudlin and wept for his absent sons; naturally light-headed, young Roger took to staggering about before collapsing in a heap, followed by two of his brothers until only Robert and Serlo were left, though both had wrung a different mood from their imbibing. Robert by nature was ahappy drunk, Serlo a morose one, all the resentments