thing of the protection which such an event would secure to the pope
against those farther aggressions on the Church, which the emperor had
in view.

Driven to desperation by the final decision of the pope, William, who,
with all his faults, seems still to have been capable of a rash energy
when real danger stared him in the face, resolved to throw himself
again on the chance of war. Collecting a formidable armament by sea
and land, he invested Brundusium; which, with the exception of the
citadel, had fallen into the hands of Michael Ducas, the Greek
general. [1] The citadel, which could not be subdued by arms, was
obliged at last to yield to famine; when, in the moment that the
garrison was about to close with the terms of surrender, proposed by
the enemy, William came up with his army, and obliged the Greek
commander, instead of taking possession of the citadel, to face about
and fight a pitched battle for the town. The struggle was obstinate
and bloody: fortune often changed sides; but at last declared for the
Sicilians, into whose hands Ducas himself fell.

The recovery of Brundusium, which followed this victory, seasonably
placed at William's disposal a number of rich Greek captives,--whom he
sent to Palermo,--much ready money and precious property, besides
ships and stores.

A crowd of Apulian malcontents had also the misfortune to fall into
his power; on whom he did not fail to wreak his vengeance, by
executing some; blinding and maiming others; and selling the rest into
slavery.

Flushed with this success, he next marched to Bari. Here he met with
no resistance; but, on the contrary, an affecting appeal to his mercy
in the spectacle of the citizens coming out before him, dressed in
sackcloth, in token of submission. So solemn a humiliation, however,
could not atone in the king's eye, for their crime in having
demolished the citadel of the town, because it refused to turn
disloyal, when the rebellion first broke out. To their entreaties for
pardon, he sternly replied, that he should deal out strict justice to
them; that as they had not spared his house, he should not spare their
houses. A respite of two days only was allowed them, in which to quit
their homes with their goods; upon its expiration, the entire city
with its walls was reduced to a heap of ruins. Struck with terror at
so cruel a vengeance, the rest of the revolted Apulian towns hastened
to send in their submission; whereupon, William turned his