by K. M. Ashman
‘But surely you have only met her once?’
‘I have met her twice, Godwin. Her beauty is enthralling yet there is something quite different in her manner that sets her apart from other ladies of the court.’
‘And what is that?’
Gerald thought for a while before replying.
‘Fire,’ he said eventually, ‘a flame in her heart that defies any man’s attempts to control her spirit.’
‘So you see her as a challenge?’
‘No, I don’t. Just as it is a stupid man who breaks a spirited horse, then I believe I would be no less stupid to try and douse that fire.’
‘So what do you envisage?’
‘When this is done, I will visit her and try to win her affection by genuine means. Although we met only fleetingly, I’m sure there was something between us.’
‘I hope you are right, my lord,’ said Godwin, ‘for I have never seen you as love-struck as you are now.’
Gerald punched his comrade in the arm. ‘Nothing wrong in seeking a wife, Godwin,’ he said, ‘especially one as spirited and beautiful as Nesta.’
The two men fell silent again as they stared down to the distant town.
‘How much longer do you think we will be stationed here?’ asked Godwin eventually.
‘A few months,’ said Gerald. ‘When Arnulf meets up with the king, I expect they’ll send a relieving force back down the coast and allow us to return to London. By then the rebellion will be broken and a much smaller force can operate from this castle.’
‘Castle?’ snorted Godwin. ‘It is no more than a pile of earth with a few sharpened stakes. These Welsh have no idea how to build a fortress.’
‘It is not the castle that is attractive,’ replied Gerald, ‘but the location. Pembroke is the coastal gateway into Wales and whoever controls the port controls the west coast. The harbour offers safe anchorage for ships and any forces stationed here can quickly strike in any direction at a moment’s notice. Until then we must make the most of what we have.’
The two men looked down into the nearby town of Pembroke. Chinks of candlelight leaked from closed shutters on the many homes, each amplified by the complete darkness of the autumn night. A dog barked in the distance, breaking the silence that seemed to seep into the soldiers’ very bones.
‘Godwin,’ said Gerald eventually, ‘have you noticed anything about this night?’
‘Not really, why?’
‘Don’t you think it is a bit quiet?’
‘I suppose so, but why is that a problem?’
‘I don’t know, it just feels a bit unnatural.’
‘Perhaps there be spirits abroad?’
‘I believe in no spirits apart from the Spirit of Christ,’ said Gerald, looking nervously over the palisade.
‘Silence is always preferable to the madness of battle.’
‘I agree, but listen again. There is something missing.’
Godwin paused and stared towards the town.
‘The taverns are silent,’ said Godwin eventually. ‘Other nights the revelry makes my blood race with jealousy.’
‘Indeed,’ said Gerald, ‘and though the silence is welcome, why would the taverns have their doors closed to customers?’ Before Godwin could answer, Gerald turned and snapped. ‘What is the state of the men?’
‘A quarter are on sentry duty while the rest sleep, my lord. Standard defence tactics.’
‘Wake the rest up,’ said Gerald. ‘I have a bad feeling in my bones; something isn’t right.’
‘As you wish, my lord.’
‘And stock up the arrow baskets around the palisade walls. If something should happen, our archers should not be found wanting.’
‘Aye, my lord,’ said Godwin, as he descended the ladder to see to his duties. But before he had crossed the bailey, a cry rang out through the night.
Gerald’s head spun to stare towards the sentry post a few paces away and witnessed the silhouette of one of his men falling from the wall, an arrow lodged deep in his chest. He paused for only a second before running towards the gatehouse, an action that saved his life as an arrow thudded into the timber wall behind him.
‘Alarm!’ he screamed. ‘Every man to arms, we are under attack!’
Beyond the palisade, Hywel ap Goronwy pushed his wildly unkempt hair back from his face and spat on the ground before roaring his commands towards his waiting army. After many weeks, Prince Cadwgan had finally given Goronwy the chance to prove the mettle of his men and the opportunity to destroy the English garrison was an opportunity he could not miss. The silence of the night was ripped apart as his warriors burst from the undergrowth and stormed towards the flimsy defences. Their roars of defiance filled the air, accompanying the hundreds of arrows already flying unseen through the night sky. All along the treeline, archers removed lids from fire pots and tipped glowing embers onto pre-prepared piles of kindling. Small flames were quickly fed with sheep’s wool and within minutes, trails of fire lit up the night sky as flaming arrows thudded into the palisade and beyond.
‘Ladders!’ screamed Goronwy. ‘Before they have time to reorganise.’
Men ran from the undergrowth carrying siege ladders, and within moments the thuds of timber on timber mixed with battle cries as the Welsh besiegers sought to better the outer defences.
Within the fortress, men ran around in disarray as the seriousness of the assault became apparent.
‘Every man to the defences!’ roared Gerald. ‘Their men are already upon us.’
‘My lord,’ shouted Godwin, ‘our archers are not yet fully armed.’
‘Forget the arrows, there is no time. Every man to take a blade whether he be knight or knave and repel those already scaling the walls.’
‘Aye, my lord,’ shouted Godwin and turned to the confused defenders in the bailey. ‘You heard him,’ he roared, ‘get to the palisade and use everything you have to keep them off the walls.’
Men ran up the earthen bank on the inner side of the palisade, grabbing whatever they could as weapons.
Gerald tore along the bank, seeing those men who had reacted quicker than others already engaged in mortal combat. Drawing his blade he ran to the nearest fight and waded into the fray, smashing a man’s collarbone with a swipe from his blade before piercing another’s chest as he appeared over the palisade.
The enemy already over the wall fought like madmen, their faces blackened with soot and their eyes as wild as demons. Furiously, the defenders fought for their lives and though many attackers fell screaming to their deaths, the fight was even. Within moments Godwin’s reinforcement joined those at the palisades and any enemy already within the fortress was quickly dispatched, their bodies being hurled back over the palisade to knock down those still climbing the siege ladders.
‘Spread out,’ shouted Gerald, ‘and make sure our rear walls are defended, this may be a feint.’
The battle wore on through the night as the Welsh tested different parts of the defensive wall. Time and time again, Gerald’s men ran to different areas, each time fighting furiously to repel the enemy. Men fought and died in bloody confrontations, often without chance of support as the defenders were stretched to the limit. Behind them, many of the supply carts were ablaze and any tents that had already been erected were no more than ashes, victims of the constant hail of fire arrows from the trees outside the castle. Eventually the pressure eased and the defenders gasped in relief as the attackers retreated to the safety of the forest.
Godwin appeared on the ramparts, sweat pouring from beneath his helm to mingle with the blood upon his face.
‘My lord,’ he gasped, dropping down to sit beside his exhausted commander, ‘it seems they have been bettered and the night is ours.’
‘If it is, my friend, then it is a fortuitous outcome we do not deserve.’
‘On the contrary, the men fought bravely and should be commended.’
‘I do not doubt the mettle of our men,’ replied Gerald, ‘but curse myself for a
llowing this situation to occur without adequate preparation. I allowed complacency to be our bedfellow and forgot we are deep amongst enemy territory. These ramparts should have been manned with twice the number of men, and our focus these past few days should have been on denying any enemy the luxury of cover. That treeline should have been cut back until it was at least out of arrow range; now they have shelter from which to attack us at their whim.’
‘Let them come,’ growled Godwin. ‘We have repelled them once and will do so again. If they think they better us with pointless attacks, they will be sadly mistaken. Already the ramparts are being stocked with spare weapons from the carts and by the time the dawn comes, every man will be equipped with chainmail and sharpened steel. We will not be found wanting again, my lord, trust me.’
‘Good,’ said Gerald. He looked at his friend. ‘You are wounded,’ he said, seeing the pinkness of bleeding flesh running down one of Godwin’s cheeks.
‘A glancing blow only,’ said Godwin holding his hand to his face, ‘but his aim should have been better. Now there is one less Welshman for us to worry about.’
‘Nevertheless, have it washed and sewn.’
‘I will, but for now it will have to wait, we need every man upon the ramparts.’
Gerald nodded and leaned back against the palisade.
‘You look exhausted,’ said Godwin, ‘close your eyes for a while, I will oversee the defences.’
‘I don’t think sleep will come to me in the circumstances,’ said Gerald, ‘but a few minutes’ rest will be good. Task the same to the rest of the men. Nobody is to leave their station but every other man to grab a few moments’ sleep if they can.’
‘Aye, my lord,’ said Godwin but before he had even walked a few paces away, a shout echoed through the night.
‘To arms, they come again.’
For several days, the Welsh kept up the pressure on the castle’s defences and though men were no longer thrown indiscriminately at the walls, the constant probing, even in isolated areas, meant that the defenders got little, if any, rest. Gerald and his men took it in turns to snatch whatever rest they could and the supplies were rationed in case the siege lasted for longer than a few days. It was during one such rest period that Gerald found himself being shaken awake by one of the guards.
‘My lord, they are coming again.’
Gerald rolled from beneath the cart where he had sought a few moments sleep and pulled himself to his feet.
‘Full attack?’ he asked as he shook the sleep from his mind.
‘No, my lord,’ said the guard, ‘another probe, though this time on the eastern wall.’
‘It seems these devils never rest,’ said Gerald, tightening his sword belt.
‘They know they stand little chance of breaching the wall,’ said the guard, ‘yet keep the pressure on our defences. Our archers have picked off many, yet still they come. I’m not sure what they hope to achieve.’
‘Really?’ said Gerald. ‘Then let me enlighten you. Whoever their commander is must know we have limited supplies and the cordon he has set up around the castle ensures we will receive no relief any time soon. Winter is almost upon us and he knows we can’t hold out much longer. Where is Sir Godwin?’
‘Already on the ramparts, my lord.’
Gerald nodded and ran across the bailey to join his number two. The attack was brief yet ferocious and again, many Welsh attackers lost their lives in the most brutal of fashions. Within the hour, the assault eased off and the night fell quiet once again, with only taunts from the distant forest edge breaking the silence of the night.
‘Let’s hope that’s the last one for tonight,’ said Godwin, sliding down to sit with his back against the palisade. ‘I don’t think we can last much longer. The men are on the point of breaking.
‘How look the supplies?’ asked Gerald.
‘Four hogs and a barrel of oats,’ said Godwin. ‘With a little luck we can last another week but after that, we will have to seek terms.’
‘This fortress is of too much strategic importance,’ said Gerald, ‘and before we abandon it to the Welsh, we will try everything in our armoury to deny it to the enemy.’
‘There is nothing left, my lord. We already use the enemy arrows collected from their earlier onslaughts; our only strengths are the walls and the men behind them.
‘On the contrary,’ said Gerald, ‘we have cunning and we have our lives.’ He paused for a few moments before turning to his right-hand man. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘I understand the archer, John of London, was killed in last night’s skirmish.’
‘Aye,’ came the reply, ‘that he was. He was a good man, as loyal as they come.’
‘I know,’ said Gerald, ‘but before this siege is over, there may still be a part for him to play. Come with me, Godwin, I have an idea.’
Down in the forest, Goronwy and his second in command, Uchtryd ap Edwin, stood in the shadows, staring up at the wooden walls of the outer palisade.
‘Their stubbornness frustrates me beyond reason,’ said Goronwy, ‘we outnumber them in horse, archers and men-at-arms, yet despite everything we throw at them, we are repelled at every juncture.’
‘We need more men,’ said Edwin, ‘to assault all four walls at the same time. Do this and we will secure a breach in no time.’
‘I agree, but alas, Cadwgan has sent word he cannot commit any more men as William Rufus is close upon his trail and every man may be needed for the confrontation. All we can do is wait and hope that Rufus turns away and heads back to England. If so, Cadwgan will send reinforcements with all haste.’
‘That may be too late,’ said Edwin, ‘winter is upon us and we have little left in the way of supplies. Our men are disheartened and wish to return to their families before the snow falls. Many talk of leaving in the night.’
‘I know,’ said Goronwy, ‘yet we are close, Edwin, I can feel it in my bones. The English must be running short of supplies and it is only a matter of time until the hunger cuts their bellies as sure as any sword. Another week or so and the flag of truce will be hung from the palisade, I am sure of it. A few more days, Edwin, that’s all I ask.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Edwin, ‘but can’t promise anything. We have lost many men already and those that are left see no end to this siege. Ten days and that’s it, you can stay here with your men if you want, but after that I will lead mine eastward to prepare for winter.’
‘Ten days should be enough,’ said Goronwy. ‘I suspect they are down to their last supplies and short of eating their dead, must be on the point of starvation.’
The following night, Godwin and Gerald walked amongst a group of twenty well-armed knights, each undergoing final checks as they prepared to ride out from the castle walls.
‘Are you sure about this?’ asked Godwin.
‘Trust me,’ said Gerald, ‘I know it sounds drastic but if this works, it could end the siege within days.’
Godwin looked at the men. Each was gaunt through hunger but all had volunteered for the mission, desperate to break the monotony of life under siege.
‘You know what to do,’ said Gerald turning to the armed men, ‘once the gate is open, you are to charge the enemy lines on the east side, as if trying to assault their command tents. Do what damage you can but risk not your lives, this attack is not about conquest but diversion.’
‘Can I ask to what end, my lord?’ asked one of the knights.
‘Alas not, lest you be captured, but rest in the knowledge that this task is important if we are to successfully defend the fortress. Now, if you are ready, there is no time to waste. As soon as the gates are open, spare not the horses. Stretch every sinew to fall amongst them like devils, but before they have chance to muster their defences, turn away and retreat to the safety of these walls. Is that clear?’
‘Aye, my lord,’ said the knight.
‘Then let’s get it done and may God go with you.’ Gerald turned and walked over to the gates. The extra poles had a
lready been removed and four men prepared to pull them open. He looked up at the sentries on the parapet. ‘All clear?’
‘All clear, my lord,’ said the guard.
Gerald took a deep breath.
‘In that case, there’s no point in waiting any longer: open the gates.’
With a command from Godwin, the gates swung inward just enough to allow the horsemen to pass through in a double column and within moments, all twenty were thundering through the darkness towards the distant treeline.
‘Shut the gates,’ shouted Gerald, ‘all archers to the parapet to cover their return.’
‘My lord, there are few arrows left,’ said Godwin. ‘Our fletcher makes new from the castle timbers but they are of poor quality.’
‘I care not,’ said Gerald, ‘use what you have to bring our men back alive.’
‘So be it,’ said Godwin, and he gave the necessary commands.
As the front of the castle burst into life, Gerald ran over to the rear of the fort and into one of the stables. Two horses stood quietly in the far stall, accompanied by a nervous-looking squire.
‘Are you ready?’ asked Gerald as he entered.
‘I am, my lord, but still don’t understand the point of my quest.’
‘All you need to do is exactly as we discussed,’ said Gerald. ‘Once the fight starts to the east, any enemy attention will be drawn that way and you can slip out quietly without being seen. Take your time, stay in the low ground and you should be fine. Once past their lines, you know what to do.’
The boy looked up at the silent passenger tied onto the second horse and gulped nervously.
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Good. Make sure the place chosen is near to the road and will be quickly found.’
‘Aye, my lord. Once the package is delivered, I will return as quickly as I can.’
‘No, Iain, once you have done the deed, ride as hard as you can southward and seek Carmarthen Castle. The castellan there will give you shelter until this thing is over.’
‘But my place is at your side.’
‘I know, and should I survive these next few days, you will once more be my squire. But if I fall, the castellan at Carmarthen will ensure you are appointed to a good knight.’ Gerald paused as he saw the fear in the boy’s eyes. ‘Iain, what you are about to do could save the lives of hundreds of men, not just today but in the future. Take heart and be the man you hope to one day become. If this comes off, and we all escape with our lives, I will send representation to Rufus telling him of your bravery.’