by Griff Hosker
I made a thorough examination of the site and then headed back to Lewes. It was as I did so that I saw the banners to the east; it was Simon de Montfort’s army. They had arrived sooner than ours, and they would take the higher ground. He might have had fewer knights, but de Montfort had the tactical advantage. I determined to tell Lord Edward of the news and offer my advice. It was in my interests to ensure that he did not fail. Success might mean my dismissal, but defeat would mean the complete end to my freedom.
Richard of Cornwall had his men filling up the houses of Lewes. The king and his son had taken the castle and the priory. I sent off my men to make a camp. We would, at least, have food, for we still had deer meat.
“Find somewhere we can graze our animals. It doesn’t matter if it is some way from the castle, so long as they get to eat. Perhaps by the River Ouse?”
John of Nottingham waved a hand. “Leave that to us, Captain. You might ask Lord Edward if he has supplies of arrows. We just have fifty left to each of us.”
I waved, to show I had heard. We had arrowheads and we had feathers, for we had recovered many after the battles we had fought, but shafts were something different, and I was not sure that we had a supply. I had not seen any other archers with the army.
When I reached the castle, I was made to wait for some time. Perhaps Lord Edward was in conference; I did not know. Finally, I was admitted to the great hall, where were gathered the king, Richard of Cornwall – who also happened to be king of Germany – Lord Edward and Sir Roger Mortimer, along with Henry Almain, the son of Richard of Cornwall. They were the only noble-born; the rest were servants and squires clearing away after their masters. I was an archer still covered in the dust from the road, and King Henry looked at me with obvious distaste. He seemed to have an aversion to the common man.
“Why is an archer here, Edward? We have no need of him.”
“He was sent to scout, Your Majesty. It might be prudent to know the state of the battlefield.”
The king waved a dismissive hand. “We know all that there is to know. We have more knights than they do and God is on our side. We beat them at Northampton, we drove them from Rochester and we shall defeat them here at Lewes.”
Richard of Cornwall said, “Speak, Gerald War Bow, for I have heard your name spoken by worthy warriors who know the value of a good archer.”
I bowed. “There is a wood on Offham Hill, and it lies half a league northeast of the town and the castle. It could conceal large numbers of men. In addition, there are two areas of dead ground. You cannot see them from the castle or the town, but men could be hidden there. The ground rises to the hill and would sap energy from horses.”
King Henry was not in the mood to hear my words. “I care not how many men they match against us. We know what you do not, archer, the bulk of the rebel army is made up of ordinary folk like you! We have nobles, we have knights. Our men are better mounted and we will sweep them from the field.”
“But, Your Majesty—”
I got no further. “You would counsel a king? Who is this man, Edward, and why does he hold such a high opinion of himself? I would have him whipped if he were my man!”
Lord Edward reddened. “He is an archer, King Henry, and I will deal with him.”
Once outside, I thought he would strike me.
“What got into you, fool, that you question my father? You gave your report and that should have been the end of it. When we fight you will guard the baggage at the priory. I would not have you close to the king, for I can see you make him angry.”
I contemplated pointing out that we were the only archers with the army and then thought better of it. “Yes, my lord.” Lord Edward was still a young man, and he had been embarrassed by my actions. He knew I was right, I could see it in his eyes, but he was still not yet ready to lead our armies.
I left feeling depressed. We would guard the baggage and would not be able to affect the battle. I headed to the priory first to see where we would be stationed. The baggage was there already, and the carters were making their camp. There was marsh and bog close by. It would not be a pleasant camp.
There were servants and there were squires who heard the argument, and soon the news of the king’s displeasure spread around the camp. It had reached our camp before I even arrived. Captain William came over to me.
“I am sorry, Captain Gerald, but we should know our place, and I am disappointed that your bows will not protect us when we go to battle.”
I shrugged. “We will still be paid and we will not be in danger.”
“That is not what is in your heart.”
“Perhaps speaking from the heart is not the thing to do. From now on I shall keep my counsel.” I closed with him. “Beware the dead ground and the woods. If I was de Montfort, I would use them.”
“And we know he is no fool. Thank you, Captain Gerald.”
When I reached my men I said, “We need a new camp.”
John of Nottingham shook his head. “We heard what was said, Captain, and it is unfair, you were only doing your duty.”
“It is in the past. There is a river, the Winterbourne, and a boggy area, the Brooks. Both are close to the priory. If we camp between them, we shall have grazing and water, and the Brooks will afford some protection, but the air will not be wholesome.”
“We should not need the grazing, Captain. Most men believe that we will win, and win easily at that.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Let us see. Simon de Montfort is a skilled leader and he will have chosen to fight here for a reason. We will do our duty and guard the baggage.”
There were baggage guards but they were just hired drivers. I suspect that they may have been thieves, too, for they resented us and our presence. They saw Lord Edward’s livery and thought we were spies, sent to keep an eye on them. I did not disillusion them. We were there to guard the baggage against enemies, not light-fingered opportunists.
The campsite I chose was a better one than I had expected, for the grazing was lush and the water so close that we could tether our horses nearby. The marsh and bog were far enough away that the flying insects did not bother us as much as they might have. The destriers of the knights, on the other hand, suffered. The knights wanted them close and they soon overgrazed the pasture.
That might not have caused a problem, but there were two days of negotiation between the two armies. Such conferences were not unusual. The talks came to nothing and that outcome surprised no one, for all that they did was entrench the two sides and increase the bitterness. Richard of Cornwall stated that he would ‘destroy their goods and their bodies’. Nobles were supposed to speak and behave in a slightly different manner. It showed that there would be no reconciliation – and we would fight.
We were at the southern end of the battlefield and had a clear view of the whole battle. The two armies spent time forming lines. I saw the rebels as they filtered down from Offham Hill; I saw that each of them had a white cross sewn on to their tunics or, in the case of the knights, a white cross on an armband. They were using God as a weapon. To the ordinary Londoners who fought for de Montfort, it would convey the belief that God was on their side. The rebels disappeared in the dead ground and then rose to form a line on the ridge. We had seen them descend and we knew that they looked to be fewer than they actually were. I hoped that Lord Edward knew that too, but as only Richard of Cornwall was on the battlefield, it was highly unlikely. The king and his son would see the enemy line and underestimate the numbers.
I saw that the men of London, the enemies of Lord Edward, were on the enemy left – our right. It took until after the hour of seven for the whole of our army to form its lines. They were mailed men, and it took time. Lord Edward’s knights formed his front line. He had with him powerful nobles: de Warenne, de Valence and Mortimer. They were our best men. Behind him were his men at arms, and then the foot soldiers of his knights. Richard of Cornwall was closest to us and the king was in the middle.
As was usual in
such battles, both sides allowed the other to form up. To the nobles, it was almost a game. They were rarely killed in such battles and, usually, the worst that could happen was that they would be captured and ransomed. The men at arms, hired archers such as us and the ordinary soldiers had no such luxury. I had learned that they faced death. A knight might spare another knight for ransom, but a commoner was worthless and he would die. It was another reason the king did not like us; worthless as we were, we had bodkin arrows and they were knight-killers. Perhaps that was the real reason we were stuck with the baggage.
I had used the carts which had brought the baggage to make a small fort. My men and I stood on them, and we could use the elevation to send our arrows further, while we had a wooden barrier to protect us from charging horses. The baggage drivers mocked our caution, for they did not believe that we would be in any danger.
One unexpected result of our new task was that we had the entire stock of arrows for the army with the wagons. Most of the archers had been left at Rochester and Tonbridge, and we were lucky that they had not taken more of the arrows. We had plenty, and I had them spread out in all of the wagons. John of Nottingham made a good suggestion: he thought we should tether our horses close to the wagons. I approved his idea, for when I saw the two sides arrayed I knew that the rebels held the advantage.
The preliminaries involved priests and bishops marching up and down the lines. All would be shriven; men fought better knowing that if they died, they had a better chance of going to heaven. Then the attack began.
It was started by King Henry who ordered his line forward. I heard his cry, “Spur on!” and saw the dragon standard as it fluttered. His horse was led by two of his men at arms. It allowed the king to use both arms to fight and gave him some protection. Lord Edward did not bother with such bodyguards. He was fearless and he was reckless.
Lord Edward appeared to be a little tardy; perhaps the huge size of his battle caused him some confusion, and I saw a gap appear between his battle and that of his father. As I looked at the body of men facing him, I saw that it was largely made up of the Londoners. There were some mounted men, but the majority appeared to be on foot. They were not trained. As Simon de Montfort, in the centre, wheeled his men around the track leading from the Downs, the Londoners confirmed Lord Edward’s opinion and charged him. I knew Lord Edward well enough to know what his reaction would be. He did not wait for the rest of the army; he ordered his own men to charge the Londoners. From across the battlefield, I heard the crash and clash as the two forces met. The few horses and the disorganized Londoners were no match for the four hundred odd men Lord Edward led. It was as though the Londoners ceased to exist. One moment they were facing Lord Edward, and the next they disappeared back up the slope and into the dead ground.
I turned to John of Nottingham. “If Lord Edward turns to take on de Montfort, then the battle is won!”
Lord Edward and his men disappeared in the dead ground and then, to my horror, I saw them pursuing the Londoners up the slope towards Offham Hill. Now it was time for Simon de Montfort to do that which Lord Edward should have done; he extended his line and turned the flank of King Henry. The men they fell upon were not the knights but the royalist foot soldiers. I knew what was coming.
“String your bows and prepare for battle!”
The drivers looked in horror as the king and his brother found themselves facing more knights than they led. Lord Edward led his knights after merchants and fishmongers; Simon de Montfort’s newly-knighted men charged King Henry and his men. It soon became a confused mêlée.
Then my worst fears were realised. De Montfort had a mass of slingers and archers; they rained death on the men who followed Richard of Cornwall. His knights did not die, but some of their horses did. The ordinary men, however, were slaughtered. I saw Richard of Cornwall isolated from his men and take shelter in a mill, half a mile from us. He was too far away for us to help. I knew that we would soon be engaged, for I saw a mob break through the gap his men had left as they tried to reach their leader. These were not knights; these were the sort of men we had captured in the forest close to Codnor.
“Draw.” They outnumbered us, but panic would only make us lose. “Choose your own targets!”
I had a needle bodkin, and I aimed my first arrow at a man who wore a mail vest. He led the men, and he was less than two hundred paces from me but, as there were many men around him, I released. If I missed him then the odds were, I would hit another. My arrow was true and he was hit in the chest. I nocked a second bodkin for, when he fell, I saw a second mailed man behind him. It was just a mail vest and, from the rust marks upon it, an old one. He was closer to me and my arrow drove half its length into his body.
I took a war arrow next. We were sending arrows so quickly that, despite their superior numbers, we were thinning them considerably. I sent ten arrows at them before they broke, and the survivors ran back to the knights who were trying to get to the king. They were an easier target than archers who stood behind wooden walls and killed all who tried to get at them.
If the king or his standard fell, then the battle was over. I saw that his household knights were fighting their way back to the priory. The battle was lost: I could see that, but the king was trying to salvage something, and he was relying on his son to return and save the day.
Then, some of his mounted men saw the Brooks behind us and thought to escape that way. Jack of Lincoln shouted at them to warn them, but they did not heed him. We had left it empty, for it protected us from an outflanking manoeuvre. I saw men and horses become stuck in the mire. The rebel archers raced to try to slaughter them.
They reckoned without my handful of archers. We had height and we were better trained. Using war arrows, we began to thin out the archers. They were forced to turn their attention on us.
“Use the wagons for defence!”
I sprang down, but my order was too late for Ronan and Dick, son of Robin. They were a little slow to descend and both were hit by arrows and stones. They died, but their killers paid the price. We had lost good men and we redoubled our efforts. Even my arm began to burn as we loosed arrow after arrow. The order to stay with the baggage saved us, for we had an almost inexhaustible supply of arrows and the rebel archers did not. They fell back, and there was a hiatus for both sides were regrouping. Meanwhile the king’s men were heading into the town, and Richard of Cornwall’s men were trying to extract themselves.
“Are they dead?”
John of Nottingham was examining the two dead archers. “Aye, lord.”
Then Matty Straw Hair shouted, “It is Lord Edward and his men; they have returned!”
I risked climbing up onto the wagon to afford a better view. He was returning but, as he appeared from the dead ground, I saw half of his force turn and ride to the east. They had seen that the battle was lost and were saving their own skins. Lord Edward led fewer than forty banners and the men of Captain William. My old comrade was loyal. Lord Edward was no coward, and he ploughed his way through rebel foot soldiers. Despite his treatment of us, we were still his men.
“To the wagons! Our lord needs us!”
I loosed arrow after arrow into the rear of the men trying to get to Lord Edward. When my men added their arrows, such was the ferocity of the attack by Lord Edward that the opposition melted away. He reined in. I saw that Captain William had just three men left with him and his tunic was red with blood.
Lord Edward lifted his visor. “Thank you, Captain Gerald. It seems my father was wrong and we did need you. Where is he?”
“He headed into the castle. Your uncle is captured.”
“Then we have lost. Sir Roger, we will go into the castle. Captain Gerald, protect our backs as long as you can and then save yourselves. We will seek terms, for the castle might be held against a siege and many men have died this day.”
I think he was talking to himself and not me at that point. He was a clever man and knew that there were many ways to win a war even when
one had lost a battle. He would not give in.
“You have done your duty and I shall not forget this.”
I had no time to say more, for de Montfort had seen his enemy and ordered knights to charge us. Lord Edward turned and galloped past the priory towards the castle. We needed to loose as one.
“Draw! Release! Nock! Draw! Release!” We had no time to choose arrows and were forced to use war arrows. We did not slay the knights but some of their horses fell, others were wounded. We slowed them down as they moved away from our arrows and away from Lord Edward. As Lord Edward reached the gates, I saw Captain William turn and wave. We could now leave the field with honour.
The king had lost, but we were still alive.
Chapter 3
We had been given permission to leave, and we did so with alacrity. The nobles and the knights might be taken for ransom but, as the archers of the Weald had discovered, for us, capture meant death! We were in the south of England in the heartland of de Montfort and his supporters. To the north of us was a barrier of enemies stretching across the country; we were in the greatest danger that any could imagine.
“Take as many arrows as you can and follow me. We have done our duty and now we save ourselves!”
Robin of Barnsley said, “Easier said than done, Captain!”
“Just get on your horse and don’t forget to take Ronan’s and Dick’s. Times will get harder and we will need horses as well as arrows.”
I grabbed four bundles of arrows and headed for my horse. I reached Eleanor and hung my sword from my blanket, then I used the leather thongs hanging from her saddle to secure the four bundles of arrows. They had flights and shafts only; the heads were in a separate bag that also hung from Eleanor’s saddle.