by H A CULLEY
‘Why?’
‘Because you have chosen a tincture as the field and the rules are that you have to have a metal on a tincture or a tincture on a metal.’ As Edgar still looked puzzled, Simon explained further. ‘Yellow represents gold and white silver. They’re the metals. You really need to start to learn this sort of thing.’
‘Oh, I see. How about a lion?’
‘A bit grand for a knight, don’t you think?’
‘A mouse then?’ he giggled; his brother gave him a pitying look.
‘I know. The symbol of Berwick is a bear. As we were instrumental in recapturing it, how about a bear?’
Yes, well done Edgar. I like that. I’ll just check with the Marshal’s man, but I don’t think anyone else uses a bear. Oh! Wait a minute, the Earl of Warwick has a bear and a ragged staff as his device. I wouldn’t want to be confused with an English lord.’
‘How about a bear’s head then, or perhaps three of them?’
‘Yes, that should be alright. In white I think.’
Three days later Rollo collected Simon’s new shield from the armourer and his surcoat from the seamstress. He also put on his new black gambeson with its badge of three white bear’s heads on a red shield and strutted around proud as punch.
Edgar got permission to be away for the day and the three, Simon, Edgar and Rollo , rode the three miles north to Lamberton. They had to exit the East Gate and work their way around to join the road north as the castle was still holding out. It was a fine late April day, if a little chilly thanks to the stiff breeze blowing in across the sea to their right. Simon didn’t think that he had ever been happier.
Lamberton village lay on a hillside which sat high above some rocky cliffs. As they approached it, Simon, Edgar and Rollo stopped to admire the vista from Bamburgh Castle to the south round to a headland called St. Abbs a few miles to the north. The land seemed to be mainly pasture with several flocks of sheep and two herds of cattle grazing on it. In addition to the usual shepherd boys and men rounding up some of the cattle for milking, there were two serjeants keeping watch from the top of the slope. The hall house itself stood on its own above the village on a sizeable rounded hill. From where they sat all that they could see was a round palisade with a double gate and the roof of the hall.
Although Berwick had been captured, the country around still contained groups of Englishmen and their families who had escaped from the town during the attack. Most of these were making their way south of the Tweed but the three of them were dressed ready for trouble and naturally this interested the two serjeants.
They rode down to confront them, nervously putting their hands to their swords.
Who are you, Sir Knight, and what do you want in Lamberton,’ one of them called.
‘This is Sir Simon de Powburn, lord of the manor of Lamberton.’ Rollo replied in his high treble voice.
The leading serjeant’s face split into a wide grin, showing that he was missing most of his front teeth.
‘Is he now? Welcome Sir Simon. We have been expecting you but didn’t recognise the device. Lamberton’s lords have always used a gold sheep on a green field.’
Simon felt foolish. He should have known that the previous family who owned the manor would have already had a coat of arms, which he could have adopted as they had all been killed when Berwick was taken by Edward Longshanks. Since then it had been a royal manor.
‘Well, now it has a new lord and my device is three bears heads; more warlike than sheep, don’t you think?’
‘Of course, Sir Simon. I’m Callum and this grinning idiot is Fergus. There are two more serjeants, who are off duty now, and the village can muster thirty armed men and youths in time of need. Fergus can stay here to watch the livestock. I’ll show you up to the hall house.’
‘Are you still threatened by the English who escaped from Berwick then?’ Simon asked in surprise.
‘No, it’s not the English we worry about. It’s our thieving neighbours. Sir John Forbes is always seeking to increase his livestock and, since we haven’t had a lord living here for a while, he sees us as a soft target.’
‘Does he now? I think I had better pay this Sir John a visit soon.’
The hall house was basic: beaten earth strewn with straw for the floor, a central hearth with a hole in the roof to let most of the smoke escape and mud packed in between the timbers of the walls to keep the wind out. Located as it was, it was very exposed. The advantage was that the wind whipped the smoke out of the hole in the roof before it had a chance to swirl around and choke the inhabitants.
There wasn’t even a solar, just a curtain at one end, behind which was a bed and a coffer for clothes. There was no mattress or bedclothes; instead a straw palliasse crawling with insects and some flea-ridden furs served in their stead. Simon couldn’t help thinking that nothing seemed to have changed since the Angles had lived here five hundred or more years ago.
The servants consisted of a cook and his scullion, an old man and two small boys. A woman and her daughter from the village did the laundry but not very well by the state of the clothes the servants wore. The straw on the floor was dank and rotting and full of faeces from the two dogs that seemed to live in the hall. The other occupants were the bailiff and his slatternly wife. They had been living in the solar but quickly moved out when Simon arrived.
Simon was appalled by the squalor of the place and wondered what condition everything else was in. He sent for the reeve and went on a tour of inspection with him whilst Edgar and Rollo were left to supervise the servants cleaning out the hall and putting down fresh straw. The dogs belonged to the bailiff so thankfully they moved out with him and his wife. Simon supposed he would need to get some hunting dogs but he resolved that they would live in a kennel with a dog boy to look after them, not in the hall.
He was pleasantly surprised by the state of the village, stables, smithy and small church and told the reeve so. He was a young man, perhaps three years older than Simon, and he glowed with pride when praised.
‘It’s not my place to say, Sir Simon, but this is a prosperous manor, despite Sir John Forbes’ raids, and should be producing more income than it appears to be. Sixty marks per annum, you say? My guess would be nearer a hundred marks.’
Simon hadn’t liked the shifty eyed bailiff at first meeting and he suspected that he was taking a fat cut from the income before forwarding it to the sheriff, who had collected it on behalf of the king up to now. This confirmed his own feelings about the man and he regretted, not for the first time, his inability to read, write or understand figures. Edgar was the same, neither of them had been given an education, apart from how to use weapons. However, Rollo had learned a great deal from his father, the Keith’s steward, and he had continued to be taught by the new steward a few hours a week when he became a page.
The bailiff was surprised, and a little worried, when Simon asked for the books. A day later, after Edgar had ridden back to Berwick to resume his duties as William Keith’s squire, Rollo came to Simon and confirmed that the bailiff had indeed been skimming the manor’s income. Rollo told Simon that, over the decade when King Robert should have been receiving the laird’s share of the income it looked as if the bailiff had stolen some four hundred marks.
When confronted, the man confessed and Simon discovered more than three hundred marks in the chests he had taken with him from the hall. Simon would have been in his rights to have tried him in the manor court and, if found guilty, have him hanged with his wife as his accomplice. However, he decided to be merciful and merely banished them from the village. As they were old and now penniless, he didn’t give much for their chances of surviving the winter. Perhaps it would have been more merciful to have hanged them after all.
He now had the money to build a new stone hall house. but first he needed to deal with Sir John.
Forbes’s manor of Foulden was much like Lamberton, except that Sir John lived in a stone tower, not a ramshackle timber hall. Simon had taken Rollo, Callum
and one of the other serjeants named Aed with him. John Forbes rode out to meet him accompanied by a boy of sixteen, who looked so much like him he could only be his son, and three heavily armed men mounted on garrons. He was a man in his late thirties or early forties, well-built but not running to fat like many his age.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘I am told that you raided Lamberton two weeks back and ran off about thirty sheep and a dozen cattle. I’d like them back.’
‘Oh, you would, would you? And who might you be, boy?’
‘Forgive me for not introducing myself, I’m Sir Simon de Powburn, the new laird of Lamberton.’ Simon had difficulty in not rising to the taunt of ‘boy’ and the man’s condescending manner but he held himself in check.
‘I see. What makes you think I have your missing livestock?’
‘My villagers swear it was you, your son and six of your men.’
‘Well they are liars, and so are you.’
Simon shrugged. ‘Have it your way but you have just made a big mistake. Arm yourself.’
With that he collected his lance from Rollo and rode back a short distance, turned his horse, drew his shield from his back and held it in front of him with his left arm, then couched his lance so that it was pointing at John Forbes.
‘Impudent puppy!’ With a roar Forbes pulled his sword from its sheath, dragged his shield round to his front and charged at Simon.
Without a lance he never had a chance against Simon, who had been practicing jousting for the past two years and, according to his tutor, was one of the best he had seen. Despite Sir John’s attempt to pull his horse to one side at the last minute, so exposing his opponent to his sword blade, Simon moved his lance in response and struck the man’s shield dead in the middle. John Forbes was shoved violently from his saddle, over the high cantle at the back , and landed on the ground with such force that the wind was driven from his lungs. As he lay there, struggling for breath, Simon slowly dismounted and drew his sword. The knight’s son threw himself off his horse and ran to his father but Callum rode forward and intercepted him
‘Let them finish what your father started, Niall.’
Simon placed the tip of his sword on the throat of the winded man.
‘Do you yield Sir John?’
The man didn’t have enough breath to reply so he just nodded weakly. Simon sheathed his sword and gave him his hand to help him up. When at last he could speak he clapped Simon on the shoulder.
‘You’re a good jouster, Simon de Powburn, but are you any good in battle?’
‘King Robert thinks so, or he wouldn’t have knighted me two years early and given me Lamberton.’
‘The king knighted you himself? I see. Who was your sponsor?’
‘Jamie Douglas. I was his squire.’
‘Now there’s a man I wouldn’t want to cross! I think you’d better come back to the tower for a wee dram of the amber nectar and we can discuss these cows and sheep of yours that you say I have.’ He paused. ‘What will you take to allow me to keep my armour, weapons and horse?’
‘Nothing, just your oath never to raid my manor again.’
The man chuckled. ‘You drive a hard bargain. I don’t suppose you want a squire, do you? My useless son won’t learn much from an old fart like me.’
‘Sorry but I think Rollo here would be upset if I made him my second squire, and I don’t need two anyway. But I may be able to find a knight for your son, if you’re serious.’
‘Aye, I am. I’ve left it longer than I should have but he needs to go away and start on the path to knighthood before it’s too late.’
After they entered the tower they were met by a young girl of perhaps thirteen or fourteen in the great hall on the first floor, not that it was particularly great in dimensions, being about twenty foot square. But Simon wasn’t looking at the tower, he was mesmerised by the girl. Although only young, she was nicely developed and had the prettiest face that Simon had ever seen. His interest in her was obvious and she blushed coyly, whilst her father looked thoughtful.
‘This is my daughter, Bridget, and my wife, Cara.’
Simon tore his eyes of the girl and looked at her mother, a coarser and older version of her daughter, to see a look of deep disapproval in her eyes. He decided that he needed to charm the mother before the daughter, if he was to pursue his interest.
‘Simon de Powburn, from Lamberton.’ He introduced himself with a smile, which did little to reduce the frosty look that Cara was giving him. ‘This is my squire, Rollo of Dirleton.’
The women went to leave the men but John Forbes told them to stay, much to his wife’s surprise and his daughter’s evident pleasure. She rarely got to meet young men and this one was decidedly handsome. After a time Simon stood up to take his leave and John walked with him to the door of the tower.
‘May I assume that you were rather taken with my daughter?’
‘Was it that obvious?’
‘Yes, very,’ piped Rollo from behind him but so softly that the two men only just heard him. Simon frowned and John grinned.
‘As your impudent squire said, yes, very.’
‘May I ask if she is betrothed?’
‘Funnily enough, Cara and I were discussing that two nights ago and decided it was time we found her a husband. There’s an old knight who has a manor a few miles away without an heir and we were thinking that, if she married him, it shouldn’t be too long before I could add his land to mine.’
‘And is Bridget in favour of this match?’
‘She’s my daughter, what do her views matter?’
Simon couldn’t decide whether John was being serious or not but Rollo knew when someone was playing with you.
‘He’s having you on, Sir Simon.’
‘Oh. Are you?’
‘Of course. From the look of disappointment on your face just then, I gather you might be serious about her?’
Well, we’ve only just met and I haven’t really talked to her yet; but yes, I could be very interested.’
‘Then you have better come back to have supper here. We normally eat at around five o’clock. You can stay the night. Bring that cheeky boy of yours too. He can tell Niall what it’s like being a proper squire’
Simon was seated between Cara and Bridget, with Rollo on the other side of Bridget’s brother, Niall. This was a real treat for Rollo, as normally he would wait on Simon at meals and have to fight for the leftovers after his betters had eaten. By the time that the meal finished and Simon and Rollo took their leave, he and Bridget were in love with each other, despite Cara’s attempts to interfere in their banter. Niall had become entranced by Simon’s stories and was now determined to get away from the cosy atmosphere of his parents’ home and inject some excitement into his life. He desperately wanted to become a squire like Rollo; where and who to didn’t seem to matter.
Two weeks later Bridget and Simon were betrothed and the latter set off with Rollo and Niall to Berwick to find a mason to build the happy couple a proper hall at Lamberton before their wedding, and to find Niall a knight to serve. But when they arrived in Berwick they found the king on the point of departure.
The castle had finally surrendered; with no food coming in and no hope of relief from King Edward they really had little other option. Consequently Robert Bruce and his army were about to return to Jedburgh. From there James Douglas would continue his raids into northern England and Robert would return to the administration of his kingdom. However he had one problem and he seemed to think that Simon was the answer to his prayers.
‘Sir Simon, I was beginning to think you had deserted me. Good, now that you have come back I have a little task for you; actually it’s quite a big one.’
Before Simon could ask his permission to marry Bridget the king had plunged on.
‘The reason I needed Berwick back was because of its importance as a port and as a commercial centre. Our trade with Flanders and, to a lesser extent, with France and the Hanseatic p
orts is essential to our prosperity. We can’t always be raiding England for the iron, cloth and other things we need. However, the English keep attacking any shipping that appears to be headed our way. I need to put a stop to this and the only way is to defeat the English at sea.’
Simon knew most of this but he couldn’t see where Robert was going with it, until he dropped his bombshell.
‘I have the ships and galleys I need to take the war to the enemy but I don’t have an admiral to direct operations. Most of my nobles seem either to be seasick wimps, or feel unable to take on the challenge for some other reason.’
He looked at Simon expectantly but the young knight just looked bewildered.
‘I’m offering you the post of admiral of the fleet in Berwick, Simon. You’ll have three armed cogs and four of Angus Og’s galleys, which are on their way around the north of Scotland.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Sire. But I don’t know anything about naval warfare.’
‘You have proved that you have initiative, courage and are loyal. The cogs have professional captains and the commanders of the galleys are experienced; they can teach you what you need to know about the capabilities of their ships. You just need to work out how to use them to stop the English from capturing our merchantmen and those of the Flemings.’
‘Um, er Well, I am honoured and I’ll do my best.’ He paused and Robert waited patiently. ‘There is one other thing. I have a boon to ask of you, Sire. I wish to marry and seek your permission.’
As the king’s tenant he was bound to ask his approval for his marriage.
‘Well, who is the lucky girl?’
‘Bridget Forbes, the daughter of my neighbour, Sir John Forbes.’
‘You could do a lot better for yourself, you know, if you waited a little. If you make a success of this task, you will end up much wealthier than one manor could ever bring you and you would be able to aim higher.’
‘Sire, I am the son of a village bailiff, I don’t crave more honours. I have all I want. I love Bridget and I think she loves me.’
‘Well said. Very well then, of course I approve. Is there anything else you need from me?’