I had no intention, of course, of meeting them head-on as if this was some kind of tournament in which everyone fought according to the prevailing rules and knightly traditions. To the contrary, my intention was to kill or wound them all and take their weapons and armour; accordingly, I increased my horse’s speed slightly and led my men south as if I was trying to avoid a battle. At the same time, John and his men galloped north. As I expected, the knights followed my larger body of riders and ignored John’s.
The knights and their mounted men may have thought we were attempting to flee and been greatly heartened by it. They totally abandoned the two horse carts they were escorting and chased after us. It did not work for them. No matter how hard they tried, their horses bred to carry armoured knights with swords, shields, and lances into battle could not catch our horses, every one of them a gelded ambler bred for their easy gait and their speed and stamina.
Our pursuers finally abandoned their pursuit and turned back on their exhausted horses. They turned back too late to save the horse cart and the men they had abandoned. John and his archers had already swooped in and killed them all, including the horses pulling the two-wheeled carts. Now it was the knights’ turn.
We immediately pulled our horses around and began to ride after our increasingly desperate one-time pursuers. One after another we caught up to them and shot them down with each of us giving every fallen rider we passed another arrow to keep him down. None of our pursuers or their horses survived.
The rest of the day was spent picking up our arrows and stripping the dead men of their armour and weapons and throwing them into one of the foragers’ carts. It was near to getting dark by the time we finished stripping the dead foragers and gathering up everything of value, so we took the cart with us and camped nearby for the night.
******
“Lieutenant, do you think the barons will send out a search party to see what happened to their foragers?”
That was the question John asked me the next morning with a gesture towards the swarms of birds which had begun circling over their bodies scattered about where we had left them. He asked it as we ate some of the bread and cheese we were carrying and got ready to leave the campsite in the trees where we had spent the night.
The men sitting around us heard him ask the question and stopped eating to listen to my answer. Little wonder in that; they knew there would be a bit of prize money if the armour and other valuables we had collected were sold to merchants or bought in by the company for our men to use. They also knew they would not get any prize money if a search party or other foragers found the cart and made off with the valuables before we returned.
“Well, they certainly would not have trouble finding the men we killed,” I said with a gesture towards the circling birds and a smile. I knew what he was really asking. “But not their valuables; we are going to take them away from here and hide them someplace else.”
I said it loud enough so the men could hear.
There was good reason for the men's interest and their nods of satisfaction when they heard my answer. Yesterday afternoon we had collected the weapons, armour, and other valuables from the men we had killed and brought them with us to a camp we hastily established nearby. John and his men were worried that they would lose their prize monies if what they had taken off the dead foragers was found and carried away by someone else.
A few minutes later we mounted up and rode out of the trees. We took the cart full of captured armour and weapons with us and hid it a couple of miles away in a thick stand of trees.
******
John and I led Number One Company south and east all morning until the Exeter road finally came into sight just after the sun passed overhead and began moving west. There was no traffic on the road and that made the whereabouts of the road hard to see in the distance.
At first, because there was no traffic on it, I could not see the road even when the men around me began commenting that they could see it. Finally, I saw the road and we turned towards it in a battle formation with me leading one file, John another, and a file sergeant the third. We rode with two or three hundred paces of distance between each file.
We reached the Exeter road without seeing anyone in the fields or travelling on it. But we were not sure how close we were to Exeter. None of us had ever been this far south into the Earl of Devon’s lands.
I rode on the road itself with the men of my file spread out in a line behind me. John and his file rode far out in the field to my left; Jack, a three-stripe file sergeant, rode with his file far out in the fields on the right. We had to keep riding like this until either it got too dark to continue or we made contact with enemy.
Suddenly we came upon several families ploughing and planting a field on Jack’s side of the road. These were obviously Devon’s lands or they would have been off to Cornwall.
The men and a couple of boys were straining to pull an old fashioned wooden plough with a woman riding on it. Another woman with an infant on her back was walking behind the plough sprinkling seeds. They stopped and looked at us as we approached, but did not run. It was an altogether peaceful scene.
“Hoy,” I said with a smile as I walked my horse up to them. They look tired; I suspect they are pleased to have an excuse to stop.
“Hoy,” was the response, followed by a flood of words coming out of the plough woman’s mouth in some strange dialect and much pointing down the road.
“John,” I shouted to the company sergeant who was cantering over to us from where he had been riding further off to the left. “Do any of your lads know how to gobble with these people?”
A young archer who had been leading one of the supply horses was called over from the file which had been riding with John in the fields on the left side of the road. He gobbled back and forth with the grey-haired woman on the plough for some time. Some of what he was told was encouraging; some was not of much value.
What the lad learnt was that the plough woman and her family were slaves owned by the Earl of Devon. They had been working in the fields from dawn to dusk ever since the first day of spring ploughing. Several days ago they had seen a “very big” number of men riding horses and walking on the road. They had watched them pass.
The problem was that “very big” could mean hundreds of men or thousands—she did not know how to count, just that there were as many men as onions in three or four sacks.
I reached into the pouch on my belt for a penny and tossed it to the woman with a nod of appreciation. She looked at it in wonder and broke into a big toothless smile. Have to keep them friendly, do not we? We may be back through here again.
We remounted our horses and continued moving north towards Okehampton as soon as John’s archer finished talking to Devon’s slaves. John rode with me on the road and so did Richard, my apprentice sergeant and scribe. As we began to move forward, I noticed the young archer wheel his horse around and walk it and the supply horse he was leading back to say a few more words to the woman and point towards Cornwall. Then he cantered his horses to catch up with his file.
“He is from Devon.” John explained quietly when he noticed me watching the archer ride back to join his mates. “He was a slave until his family escaped from Devon to join us in Cornwall.”
Chapter Thirteen
We find more foragers
We continued riding until, far off to our left, we saw a couple of horse-drawn wains and a small party of men. They were on a rough cart path and coming towards us from the hovels of one of Devon’s villages. Several of them were mounted and riding in front of the wains; the others were walking behind it. What we could not see was whether the men were armed or not.
“Spread further out,” I ordered as I motioned with my hand towards the files riding off to both sides of me and led my own file off the road to ride directly towards the distant men.
“But do not push any arrows at them unless I give the order.” They might be peaceful villagers and have useful information.
******
“Lieutenant, I think they are armed,” someone shouted.
A few minutes later I could see for myself. They were armed. It was, as I had expected and hoped, an enemy foraging party, not villagers going home after a hard day of working in the fields. It was similar to the foraging party we destroyed yesterday except there were only a couple of mounted men and they did not make the mistake of chasing after us.
“String your bows,” I shouted as I pulled my horse to a stop and leaned over to press the tip of my bow against the ground and string it. The sergeants and chosen men quickly repeated my order and all along our line the archers reined in their horses and strung their bows.
I kicked my horse in the ribs and started it ambling towards the distant wain as soon as I finished getting my bow ready. My men were soon strung out in a long line on either side of me.
We ambled towards the enemy foragers at an easy pace. They had seen us coming and stopped on the cart path to watch us approach. We got quite close before they realized we were not friendly. Perhaps they were misled because we were coming from the direction of Exeter and they thought we were part of their army.
The foragers’ lack of concern changed when they saw our nocked arrows and finally realized we were an enemy and had them hopelessly outnumbered; then it was every man for himself. The men on foot abandoned the wains and ran in all directions except for two who managed to jumped into one of the wains as its driver whipped up his horse in an effort to escape; the two horsemen wheeled their horses and attempted to gallop away.
It did not do any of them any good. We killed them all and captured two wains loaded with sacks of corn and the horses pulling them. I decided to keep the wains and horses.
******
Less than an hour after our second one-sided little battle, we resumed our march to get us closer to Okehampton with our newly acquired wains clattering along behind us. They were heavily loaded with the dead men’s saddles, weapons, and armour riding on top of the corn sacks. An archer was driving the horse pulling each of the wains with his saddled riding horse tied behind it and ready to be mounted on a moment's notice.
We reached the Exeter road in time to meet a fast-moving galloper on his way to Exeter. He was riding a good horse, but it was tired and he was not leading a remount. Three of the archers caught him after a fairly long chase and killed him and his horse as well. They brought back his particularly fine leather saddle but no parchment for Richard to read to me. We never did find out why he was in such a hurry.
The sun was just finishing passing overhead and the three archers had long ago brought us the courier’s saddle when we overtook another foraging party and their wain. They were going slowly because of the rather large herd of sheep they were driving up the road towards their Okehampton camp.
We killed them all, the foragers that is, and took their wain which was loaded with a couple of sacks of corn, a broken loom, and some bowls and bedding. It was so dark by the time we finished collecting their weapons and armour that we may not have gotten it all. It is also possible that a couple of the foragers on foot escaped in the dark into the nearby trees.
I had a couple of the sheep slaughtered whilst the foragers’ weapons were being gathered, and had the rest of the flock and the three wains driven into the field next to the road. I thought about killing the sheep and scattering the corn to keep them out of the hands of the barons’ men, but I did not order it done because we might need them for ourselves; I decided to wait until morning to make up my mind.
It was dark and cloudy that summer night and it started to rain. We pulled the wains off the road; used flint, pounded iron, and a feather stick to get a fire going so we could burn strips of mutton on the tips of our knives; and slept under the wains with our weapons and saddled horses nearby and four men awake and on guard at all times. It had been another good day even though my lice itched something fierce.
******
My men and I were up and ready to ride before dawn on a damp and cloudy morning. The rain had stopped sometime in the night, and I could see mist rising from the ground as the sun appeared and began another day of endlessly circling the earth. The men on watch had been able to keep the fire going all night under one of the wains, and I awoke to the smell of fresh flatbread and freshly burnt mutton strips.
For some reason I awoke with a question in my head—why had armed foraging parties been going to Devon’s own villages to find food? The corn and sheep, after all, already belonged to Devon; he did not need his men to take them by force. The only possible answer I could think of was that the foragers were armed so they could defend the supplies they were bringing back to their camp. It did not matter. They were dead and we had their corn and sheep. But their being armed meant something and I did not know what it was.
The question vexed me and I could not get it out of my head as I put slices of mutton on my knife and held them into the fire to burn.
Suddenly, as if delivered by God, something came into my head about what it might mean—they were armed because they thought they might have to defend the forage they were collecting. Yes, that was it for sure; they must have known my horse archers and I were out in force. But how would they have known we had be so far south? And if they had known about us, why did not they send more men to guard the foragers? It was all very confusing.
I was still thinking about why the foragers were armed when I finally mounted my horse and we once again began to ride up the road towards the barons’ army. We got away late because I had decided we should keep the sheep and the wains full of corn and loot. I had my men drive them over a distant hill and into a stand of trees so they could not be seen from the road. My men did not know it, of course, but I did not order them to kill the sheep and scatter the corn so we could use it to stay out here on Devon’s land and feed ourselves until the barons’ army is destroyed.
Once again I thought about leaving a man to guard the food and weapons we had captured, and once again I did not—so we had have every man if we got into another fight as we almost certainly will. Better to lose the captured food and weapons, I decided, than lose a battle because I did not have enough archers.
William and the lads at Restormel think we are riding to prevent the barons’ army from foraging on its way to Cornwall. We are not so far as I am concerned; we are here to totally destroy their army with a thousand little cuts so it dies before it reaches Cornwall. It was my wife’s idea. She says that was how her people like to fight. If possible, we will use the captured food in order to stay here and do just that.
******
“Hoy, Lieutenant, riders coming up behind us.”
I was shaken out of my thoughts by the shout. I stood in my saddle to look—and recognized them as they came closer. It was Michael the mason from York and his outriders, by God. They must have thought we are foragers and were coming to attack us. Good for them. I stood as I high as could get on my horse and waved.
Bows were lowered and unstrung, and smiles appeared on everyone’s faces as Michael and his men pounded up to us and reined in their horses. They were as pleased to see us as we were to see them.
“Hoy, Lieutenant,” Michael said with a smile as he reined in next to me. His horse moved about a bit as he did and we both dismounted.
“I did not expect to see you here, Lieutenant, did I?” Michael said with a question in his voice as he knuckled his head and grasped my outstretched hand to shake it. Then he asked, “is all well with you? And do you have any extra food and arrows you can spare? We are almost out, are not we?”
Michael reported what he and his men had done so far and their current state. He and eleven of his original outriders were available to ride with us; one of his men, an archer from a village near Trematon, had been killed and two others had bee
n wounded seriously enough that they could not ride a horse and fight. They were wounded while they were harassing the Earl of Devon’s army as it came up the road to join the barons’ army assembling in front of Okehampton.
“We rode along in the fields next to them and loosed arrows at their column for two days, did not we?” he explained. No wonder Exeter had wounded with him when he joined the barons.
Michael’s two wounded men were in a captured horse cart which had been pulled off the road and temporarily abandoned when they saw us and galloped forward to see if we needed killing.
It is a good thing Michael and his outriders found us. They were almost out of arrows and had not eaten since yesterday morning. They were fairly certain Okehampton was cut off, so they had been on their way to Restormel for more food and arrows when they saw us and came to attack us if that was what needed to be done. Them going to Restormel, of course, was no longer necessary as we immediately shared the bread and strips of burnt mutton we were carrying.
I quickly sent one of my men to carry bread and cheese to his two wounded outriders and to lead their horse cart to the sheep and wains we had tucked away in the hills. He was told to stay with them and tend to them. I made sure he had a fire flint and some of the flower paste from my saddle pouch that makes a wounded man sleepy and soothes the pain of his wound. Two of Michael’s outriders rode back with him to help get the wounded men to where we had concealed the sheep and wains.
Michael’s two outriders were told to help get their wounded friends settled and dosed with flower paste, cook a goodly supply of bread and burnt meat for both themselves and the wounded men, and then move back to where they could watch the road. They were to warn us if they saw any additional men or supplies coming out of Exeter.
Chapter Fourteen
The Captain's Men Page 10