A Wounded Realm

by K. M. Ashman

  The boy’s eyes widened at the prospect and without another word he mounted his horse.

  ‘I will do everything I can to secure a favourable outcome, my lord,’ he said once he was secure in the saddle, ‘even unto death.’

  ‘I know you will,’ said Gerald, ‘now we must get you from this place before it is too late.’ He opened the far door of the stables and led the way to the single postern in the rear wall. The sentry above indicated that it was all clear and another guard opened the gate.

  ‘Be brave, Iain,’ said Gerald.

  ‘I will, my lord,’ said the boy and he rode out into the darkness, leading the second horse behind him.

  Once the boy had gone, Gerald walked back to the eastern wall and climbed up to the ramparts. In the distance he could hear men screaming as the sounds of the surprise attack drifted up the slopes.

  ‘It looks like they have caught them off guard,’ said Godwin as Gerald approached.

  ‘It seems so,’ said Gerald, discarding his cloak, ‘but I am under no false illusions, twenty men cannot win us a victory on their own. I just hope our casualties are minimal.’

  He turned to see men carrying wicker baskets up the slopes to the ramparts.

  ‘Is that the meat?’

  ‘Aye, my lord, it is,’ said Godwin, ‘the last of the pigs were slaughtered this afternoon and butchered into joints as requested. They are fresh from the fires.’

  ‘Good, share them out amongst the men on the ramparts but tell them not to eat any on pain of punishment.’

  ‘Are you sure about this, my lord?’ asked Gerald. ‘Our men are starving.’

  ‘I understand your reluctance,’ said Gerald, ‘but a few days will make no difference. We need to do this in order to underpin my main plan.’

  ‘If this is what you wish then it will be done,’ said Godwin, ‘though to be honest, I see no merit in it at all.’

  ‘Trust me, my friend,’ said Gerald, ‘all will be revealed in good time.’ He made a silent prayer, hoping he was right.

  Down in the forests, the lead knight, Sir Thomas of Shrewsbury, realised they could do no more. Many of the enemy lay dead or dying, and in the confusion Welshmen ran like frightened sheep through the darkness. The attack had gone as planned and only one man had fallen to an enemy blade. Now it was time to regroup as had been agreed.

  A horn echoed through the night and every horseman turned to rendezvous at a nearby stream junction.

  ‘Is everyone here?’ shouted Thomas, trying to count the heads.

  ‘Only Wallace has fallen,’ came the reply, ‘a pike severed his head from his shoulders.’

  ‘There is nothing we can do for him now,’ said Thomas, ‘our task is complete. It is time to return.’

  ‘Wait,’ shouted a voice, ‘the enemy is in disarray. The route to the harbour lays clear and I saw several boats laying at anchor. Why don’t we just ride on and make our escape?’

  ‘What?’ gasped Thomas. ‘Are you talking about desertion?’

  ‘I am no coward, my lord, and will fight any man upon the field of battle but this is a lost cause. The castle is nothing more than a wooden box, there is no food left and we face an enemy that disappears into the night. Put me before a foe and I will fight to my last breath but I refuse to starve to death or be taken prisoner by those beneath me. I for one will not be returning to Gerald and aim to leave this place tonight.’

  ‘You talk of treachery,’ snarled Thomas and drew his sword, but two other men rode their horses between the arguing knights.

  ‘Stay your hand, Thomas,’ said one of the men, ‘for he only says what many of us already think. Our lives and honour are forfeit if we stay in such a place and I too would rather live to fight another day than stay here and die needlessly. If that makes you think me a coward then so be it but the man speaks true. I will ride with him and implore you join us.’

  ‘I will never leave a comrade in need,’ spat Thomas, ‘no matter how dire the circumstance. That is our creed, Sir Martin, the title of knight carries a code of honour as well you know.’

  ‘I agree, but nowhere does our code say we should die needlessly in a lost cause. Ride with us, Sir Thomas, and we will plead our case before the king.’

  Thomas stared at the men, knowing they had to make a decision soon before the enemy regrouped.

  ‘How many of you feel this way?’ he asked.

  Several horses rode over to stand behind Sir Martin, leaving only Thomas and three others.

  ‘And you are all of a similar mind?’

  ‘Aye,’ said several voices, confirming their choice.

  ‘Then so be it. I deplore your decision but no blades will be raised against each other this night. Do what you will but be it known that one day we will meet again and when we do, there will be no such generosity shown.’

  Sir Martin nodded and as one, fifteen knights turned to ride towards the harbour, leaving Thomas and three others behind him.

  ‘My lord,’ said one of the knights, ‘the enemy have regrouped and advance upon the castle.’

  ‘Then let us return,’ said Thomas quietly, ‘and do whatever our duties demand, but I swear this before God and before you three good men, before I die, there will be a reckoning for this night.’

  ‘After them,’ roared Goronwy in a rage, ‘how dare they have the gall to bring the offensive to me. We are greater than them in number and strength and yet they test my patience to the limit. Throw every man against the wall and tear the castle from beneath them.’

  ‘My lord, we just don’t have the strength for such an action,’ shouted one of his sergeants.

  ‘I care not,’ he replied. ‘I will not allow them to slink away like thieves in the night, fire the walls and bring the ladders.’

  ‘My lord—’ called the sergeant.

  ‘Do as I command,’ shouted Goronwy, ‘or suffer the consequences.’

  After a few moments’ pause, the sergeant turned to his men and relayed the order.

  ‘You heard our lord, to arms and have at the castle walls with everything we have.’

  For a few minutes, men ran around gathering the ladders and weapons before mustering in their sections. Soon the forest edge was lined with what was left of the Welsh army.

  ‘Ready?’ shouted Goronwy, ‘men of Wales – advance!’

  ‘Here they come,’ shouted a sentry, ‘stand to the walls.’

  Four of Gerald’s bravest men swung the gate inward and watched in silence as the remaining knights thundered through before sliding from their mounts.

  ‘Close the gates,’ roared Thomas, ‘the enemy are hot on our heels.’

  ‘Where are the rest?’ shouted Gerald. ‘Surely not all have fallen?’

  ‘I wish that they had,’ replied Thomas, ‘for to our shame they have taken the opportunity to desert.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’ gasped Gerald.

  ‘No time to explain, my lord,’ said the knight, ‘the Welsh are close behind us.’ He ran up the bank and onto the parapet, organising the men as they spread out behind the palisade.

  ‘All men to the walls,’ shouted Gerald, ‘repel them with everything you have.’

  Within moments the Welsh fell upon the castle, using everything they could to gain entry. Brushwood was piled against the palisade but the constant wet weather over the previous few weeks meant it burned slowly and was easily extinguished by water and soil from the defences. Some attackers managed to breach the walls but were soon put to the sword by Gerald’s knights before having their ladders pushed away by archers bearing long poles designed for just such a task.

  ‘My lord,’ gasped Godwin, appearing at Gerald’s side, ‘we have no more arrows.’

  ‘They don’t know that,’ said Gerald, hurling a boulder down onto some men below, ‘and think the lack of archer volleys are simply because we are busy fighting the assault. Keep the men at it, Godwin, the tide turns in our favour.’

  Sure enough, the siege ladders against the walls al
l fell away as the assault faltered and the Welsh retreated a hundred paces to reorganise.

  ‘Put those fires out,’ shouted Godwin to the defenders, and he watched as buckets of water were poured from the parapets to extinguish the flames.

  Gerald stared at the silent enemy and saw the opportunity he had been waiting for.

  ‘Listen to me,’ he hissed to the men either side of him. ‘Watch what I do and follow my lead.’ He turned to Godwin. ‘When this starts, tell the men to laugh as if they are having a good time.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Just do it, Godwin, we may not have this opportunity again.’ Without waiting for a reply Gerald stood up in full view of the enemy.

  ‘Goronwy!’ he shouted through the fire-lit darkness. ‘Call that an assault? Why, we could repel you all day at that rate. In fact, the only damage you have done is to my evening entertainment.’

  ‘I will make you eat your words, Englishman,’ shouted Goronwy.

  ‘Well that would be good, for you interfered with our feasting.’

  ‘Cease your wittering, Englishman,’ shouted Goronwy, ‘for you face hardened Welshmen before you. Such taunts fall on deaf ears.’

  ‘Really? Well you all look a bit cold and hungry, why don’t we share our fayre with you?’ He bent down and grabbed a roast leg of pork before hurling it over the wall towards the enemy. ‘There,’ he shouted, ‘with my compliments; in fact, have some more.’

  Responding to his signal, the other men reached into the baskets of roast pork and started to throw them over the walls.

  ‘Laugh,’ hissed Godwin, running along the parapet, ‘laugh damn you, we want them to think we are in good heart.’

  ‘We are starving, my lord,’ replied one of the defenders, ‘yet throw good meat to feed the enemy.’

  ‘Do as you are told, man,’ snapped Godwin, ‘there is method in this madness.’

  The parapets rang with laughter as men hurled the roast joints towards the enemy until eventually the baskets were empty.

  ‘Go on, Goronwy,’ shouted Gerald, ‘tell your men to collect the meat – you have my word we will withhold our arrows.’

  Down in the enemy lines the exhausted attackers stared in disbelief at the bounty thrown before them and some men ran forward to grab what they could.

  ‘Leave it!’ roared Goronwy – but it was too late; men ran from all directions to gather the meat.

  ‘Let them feast, Goronwy,’ shouted Gerald from the palisade, ‘the Lord knows they have earned it. If you need more, just ask, for we have plenty to spare.’ Again laughter rang across the clearing and in a fit of rage, Goronwy stormed back towards his command tent, closely followed by Edwin.

  ‘What are these games he plays?’ shouted Goronwy, throwing his helmet across the tent. ‘He is besieged with no way out yet he mocks me in front of my men with gifts of meat. Is there no end to this man’s arrogance?’

  ‘You have to admit he knows how to raise your ire,’ said Edwin.

  ‘He may play games now,’ growled Goronwy, ‘but it is I who will have the last laugh. I will keep him there until he begs to be allowed to surrender, even if it takes all winter.’

  ‘My lord, we do not have the supplies to maintain such a siege,’ said Edwin.

  ‘Neither does he!’ shouted Goronwy. ‘You didn’t fall for that display of nonsense regarding the meat, did you? That was purely for our sakes so our men would fear he is well supplied and we would withdraw.’

  ‘I don’t agree,’ said Edwin, ‘what commander worth his salt would give the last of his food to the enemy if they were starving, and what of the attack from their horsemen? They had nothing to gain yet rode amongst our lines with impunity. No, that man is confident of victory and I say we should withdraw while the weather is fair.’

  ‘We are not withdrawing, Edwin,’ snarled Goronwy, ‘we agreed ten more days. Give me those and I swear I will have that man’s head upon a spear.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Edwin, ‘the men’s morale is already low and they fight for a mouthful of roasted pork. How can we hope to control them now?’

  ‘Withdraw them to the forest,’ said Goronwy, ‘and I will address them in the morning.’

  ‘So be it,’ said Edwin. He left the tent as Goronwy retrieved a flask of ale. It was going to be a long night.

  A few leagues away, Iain, Gerald’s squire, dismounted from his horse and tied the reins to a tree before untying the second horse and leading it further along the path. The body of the dead archer was still slumped over the horse’s back and though the forest was full of dangers, Iain was more concerned with delivering his macabre package than avoiding brigands or rebels. The dawn was almost upon him when he finally reached his destination and he stopped to stare at the lodge at the side of the road. There was probably a high footfall along the road and a good chance that archer’s body would soon be found.

  Iain turned to the corpse and cut the binds, letting the body fall to the floor. He took a Welsh arrow from his belt, and after pausing to gather his courage raised the arrow high before driving it downward into the back of the dead archer’s neck. The shaft smashed through the dead man’s spine and out through his throat.

  As the archer had been dead for two days, there was no fresh blood, so Iain drew his knife and dragged the blade along his own flesh to open a wound, spreading the blood around the base of the arrow. Finally, he took a satchel from around his own neck and placed it carefully beneath the tunic of the archer.

  With his task finished, he retreated into the trees and ran back the way he had come before climbing astride his horse and galloping south to find Carmarthen Castle. His job was done.

  The following day brought fresh problems for the Welsh. And Gerald’s defenders took to taunting them from the security of their palisade. All the day through, men took it in turns to throw insults over to the treeline where the Welsh sentries sought shelter from the biting sea wind. Edwin had spent most of the day persuading groups of men to stay with the siege, repeating Goronwy’s promise that the siege would soon be at an end and the surrender of the English was mere days away. Though a few men decided to leave, overall the majority promised to stay a few more days and huddled beneath their cloaks as they sat around the campfires.

  ‘Well?’ said Goronwy, when Edwin returned to the command tent.

  ‘A few days, but no more,’ replied Edwin.

  ‘Trust me,’ said Goronwy, ‘it’s all we need. The man is bluffing and I believe he and his men are in dire straits.’

  ‘I hope you are right,’ said Edwin, ‘for the mood of our men is the lowest I have ever seen.’

  ‘It will all be worth it, Edwin,’ said Goronwy. ‘We cannot let them establish a foothold here in Pembroke – the dock is too strategic to the west coast.’

  ‘I understand the importance,’ said Edwin, ‘but there is only so much a man can take. Our own men starve and freeze with no sign of the enemy weakening. You can’t blame them for feeling disheartened.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Goronwy. ‘Now, let’s muster the men ready for an assault.’

  ‘Are you not listening to me?’ asked Edwin in exasperation. ‘It was all I could do to persuade them to stay. If you think those that stay are about to throw themselves against that damned palisade yet again then you are sadly mistaken.’

  ‘I am the commander here,’ shouted Goronwy, ‘and they will do as I say or feel my wrath.’

  ‘Listen to me!’ replied Edwin. ‘They will not do it. Force their hand and they will ride from here within the hour. Just be grateful that they will continue the siege, else this is over.

  ‘No!’ roared Goronwy. ‘You listen to me—’ But before he could continue a man burst through the flap of the tent and stared at the two arguing warlords.

  ‘What is it?’ snapped Goronwy.

  ‘My lord,’ said the soldier, ‘there have been developments.’

  ‘Spit it out, man,’ said Edwin.

  ‘My lord,’ said the soldie
r, ‘a rider has arrived in camp, sent on urgent errand from the Bishop of St David.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Apparently one of the bishop’s servants came across a dead body this morning a few leagues hence. He was on the road northward but it seems he was felled and robbed by a brigand.’

  ‘Why is this of interest to us?’

  ‘Because though his purse was empty, there was a message still within his satchel, a scroll addressed to none other than Arnulf of Montgomery himself.’

  ‘What did it say?’ asked Edwin quietly.

  ‘Read it for yourself,’ said the guard, holding up the parchment. ‘It’s not good.’

  Edwin reached out but before he could take the scroll, Goronwy snatched it from the soldier’s hand and walked away as he read the contents.

  ‘What does it say?’ asked Edwin eventually.

  ‘Nothing of importance,’ said Goronwy crumpling up the scroll.

  ‘What does it say, Goronwy?’ asked Edwin again.

  ‘It is another trick,’ shouted Goronwy, ‘the man plays games with us.’

  Without warning Edwin lashed out and punched Goronwy, causing him to crash across the table and onto the floor. Edwin reached for the discarded scroll as Goronwy stormed to his feet, looking for his blade – but the guard drew his own sword and held it against the warlord’s throat.

  ‘Leave it,’ he said, ‘he needs to know.’

  Edwin flattened out the crumpled document and read the words out loud.

  My lord Arnulf,

  I hope this message finds you in good health. As promised, we have secured the fortress at Pembroke and though we have seen some resistance from the Welsh rebels, I have seen nothing that causes me concern. Your extra knights managed to gain access via the postern without being discovered and the garrison is in good health. With regard to the promised supplies, I lose no sleep over the lateness of the column as we are still well stocked and can last at least three months with our existing stores. Worry not about our fate for we are in hearty mood and welcome the attentions of the Welsh on a daily basis if only to relieve the boredom. Give my respects to our king.