by Griff Hosker
I was going to ask why they bothered to expand if they were doing so well when he added, “The Marcher Lords in the west also seek that which we trade. The Welsh are belligerent, and men like Richard de Clare and the Sherriff of Gloucester are keen for weapons from Saxony. There, they make good swords and armour. We lost our first consignment north of Derbyshire. Two of my men were slain.”
“Bandits?”
“Bandits who were in the employ of a lord, for one of the men who attacked us wore spurs. The work may be dangerous. Are you and your men interested?”
I did not have to look at Jack to know the answer. We had come seeking employment and this sounded perfect for us. “Aye, Master Geoffrey.”
He beamed and his father clapped him on the back. “Good! You have your own horses and that means we will not have to lay out money for those.” Dickon glanced at Jack. “We just need to settle the fee.”
“You can speak in front of Jack. My company has no secrets.”
“You have not changed, then. You were ever a loyal man. What say you to twenty shillings for each trip? And we will pay for food and lodgings.”
“And you pay for damage and losses to our horses?”
Dickon nodded. “That seems fair.”
“And when will you need us?”
Dickon became conspiratorial. “The Battle of Lewes has altered the situation. The first wagon train will need to leave York by August. The journey west will take a month.”
I nodded. “And until then?” We would be spending our hard-earned coin, and York was expensive.
Geoffrey understood the problem. I soon learned that he was a clever young man and had inherited all of his father’s intuition. “I have a hall at Easingwold. You could stay there. In fact, that might be judicious for you, and your men could act as my guards.”
Dickon looked at my face and seemed to read my thoughts. “And of course, you will be paid as such. Five shillings a week?”
I saw the grin on Jack’s face. Five shillings a week and food and lodgings were better than we might have hoped. “That is agreeable. We need a couple of days to finish our business in York, first.”
With a knowing look Dickon said, “I thought you might. My son’s hall is in the middle of Easingwold. He will expect you.” He held out his hand. “I am right glad I came to this alehouse.”
“As am I.” It was fate, for if one of my other men had entered then Dickon would not have approached them.
The others had depressed expressions when we met, but soon brightened when they heard my news. “So, we have a couple of days and we should use them well. We need to sell the warhorse. It will fetch money we can use. Then, we need to find a smith. We need arrowheads, and hopefully we can sell the mail and plate we found.” They had taken the swords and daggers from the dead and they would use them. My sword was still satisfactory and I would not change it.
John of Nottingham said, “I found a weaponsmith. His name is Matthew. He has good mail and seems to be an honest man” He told me where to find him.
The next day he went with Robin of Barnsley to sell the horse, while I went with Jack of Lincoln to find the smith. Matthew had a smithy just outside the Roman walls; John had found him through the landlord of The Saddle. A recommendation always helped. I saw him making a sword as we approached, and that was good. He was a true weaponsmith and not a smith who mainly shod horses and dabbled with weapons. On the horses we had brought we had the mail and the plate. I was anxious to be rid of them.
I had bought some better clothes with the coins I had taken from Sir Roger, and now looked a little more like a person who deserved respect.
“Good morning, good sirs, how may I be of service?”
“I lead a company of archers and need to know if you can make arrowheads.”
“Aye, sir: hunting, war or bodkin?”
“War and bodkin.”
“That will be expensive.” I saw him calculating in his head. “How many would you need?”
It was my turn to calculate; we had some already, and we were not going to war. “A hundred war and sixty bodkins.”
“That would be ten shillings for the war arrows and twenty shillings for the bodkins.”
I heard the sharp intake of breath from Jack. “Acceptable – and we have something to sell to you. Jack, unpack the horses.”
I could see that he was intrigued. “Metal? I have scrap metal aplenty.”
Jack emptied the mail first. “No, smith, this is good mail. You may need to repair the odd link or two, but this could be resold by you.”
The smith rubbed his beard as he worked out a profit margin. I took the sack of plate and took it out piece by piece. “And this, smith, is good plate. We also have half a dozen helmets.”
His eyes widened. “How did you come by this?”
“It was not stolen, if that is your question. We are good archers and we took these in battle.” I saw the worry on his face. “None will come to seek it!”
“Five pounds for all of it.”
He was robbing us, but it was a buyer’s market. “Seven – and you make our arrows for nothing.”
I saw him calculating. He held out his mighty fist. “Then it is a deal! How soon will you need the arrowheads?”
It was June and we would be leaving in August. “July?”
He nodded. Jack said, “And when can we have the balance of our money?”
“I do not have it here. Let us say… the end of the week?”
I nodded and we left.
“He robbed us, Captain.”
“He made a profit. No matter what he paid us, Jack, we are in profit, and we do not have to worry about selling the plate now. When the horse is sold too, then we can begin to think about spending some of this coin!”
I had no plans to spend my share. When I had time, I would return to Oxford for my chest. My funds were growing.
Chapter 6
We collected and shared the profits from the plate, the mail and the horse. It allowed us all to buy from the merchants of York, whose prices were much lower than they would have been further south. Each of us had different needs and our bags bulged when we left.
Then we headed to Easingwold. It was a small village, and Geoffrey of York’s hall was the largest building in the small gathering of houses. His wife, Margaret, was with child, and she had two other children. Although busy, she was always pleasant to us. His steward, who had been expecting us, accommodated us in the barn. That suited us and, as our new master was away on business with his father, we set to making arrows and performing all the other tasks we needed. The time we were allowed was a luxury, for our food was cooked for us. We had straw beds and the weather was pleasant. Even better was the fact that there was a good alehouse in the village. It was called, appropriately, The Feathers, and we all spent some time there. Will Yew Tree was there each night; his coins diminished faster than ours.
We also took the opportunity of washing and repairing our livery. We would need it again, and now was the time to attend to it. I had bought some leather in York, and I used the time we waited for Geoffrey of York to make myself a bracer for my arm and a pair of boots. When I finished that, I made a canvas bag with spacers for my arrows. I now had the time to make a good one. In battle it was more convenient to have a bundle of arrows stuck in the ground, but if we were riding to protect a wagon train then we needed arrows close to hand.
We had been in the hall for half a month when, not long after having left for the alehouse, Will Yew Tree returned. That was unheard of – and he was with a man and a boy of perhaps eight years of age. This was unusual. Jack of Lincoln rubbed his eyes. “Surely you have not drunk the alehouse dry? That would be a prodigious feat, even for you!”
Will snorted. “Nay, Jack of Lincoln. I come to speak to the captain and introduce Peter, son of Rafe. This is Rafe, his father.” The boy bobbed while the father stood straight – I saw that the man had a withered arm, but his body looked to have been that of a warrior. “Can
I leave them with you, Captain? There is a game of nine men’s morris, and the other players are as much use as a one-legged man in an arse-kicking contest!”
“Of course.” I turned to address the newcomers. “Come, it is a pleasant evening, let us go and sit by the duck pond.” Once we were seated, I asked, “How can I help you?”
“I was an archer, Captain. I served under the sherriff in the wars against the Scots. I suffered a wound which means this,” he tapped his withered left arm with his right hand, “is useless. Better that I had lost the arm altogether.”
“I am sorry. How do you make a living now?”
“I was a good archer. I had money put aside, but the sherriff gave me a smallholding. We get by, Captain, and I do not need charity.” He was proud. Most archers were. “I have been training the boy here to be an archer. I have done all I can to make his arm strong and to tell him how to draw. Now, he needs a working archer to show him. I have heard of you, Captain, and Will Yew Tree speaks well of you. He might be a blowhard, but I can tell that he knows his business. I would have you take my son as an apprentice and make him an archer.”
I looked at the boy. I could see that he was slightly broader than most boys his age. “What do you say, Peter?”
“I would learn to be an archer, Captain, and Will Yew Tree says that you are a good teacher.” I knew not why he thought that. “I am a hard worker and I am willing to learn.”
“And can you ride a horse?”
He was not expecting the question and looked at his father as I continued. “We are mounted archers, Peter, and we ride to war. If we took you on, then you would need to ride to war and look after the horses as well as fetch us arrows when we fought.”
I saw him consider my words. “I like horses, but I will speak the truth, I have never ridden one.” I saw his father’s face fall.
“You are honest and that counts for much. I will tell you what, spend the next four days with us. We will try to teach you to ride. That way, you can see if you like us and still wish to serve with us.”
Rafe looked happy. “That is an honest answer, Captain, and better than Peter and I could have expected.” He turned to his son. “I will see you in four days. Do not let the family down, Peter!”
“I will not father, and I will make you proud of me.”
His father hugged him. “I already am!”
He turned and headed back to the alehouse and I turned back to the child. “Well Peter, let me introduce you to the others. They are good men, but you may find them a little rough.”
In fact, my men were charmed by the keenness of the boy. He had an endearing way with him, and in all the time I knew him, he never told an untruth. He was hard working and, over the next days, he spent as many hours in the saddle as he could. He fell off the horse many times, and his buttocks were red raw, but he persevered and after three days was a rider. More, he got on well with the horses, and even Eleanor took to him. When he was not riding then Jack of Lincoln and John of Nottingham showed him how to fletch and to fit arrowheads to arrows. That was self-interest. He would be able to repair arrows for us.
Half a day was spent with me. We had an old bow that was easy to draw and shorter than the others. I had not known why we kept it, I suspect that if we had not had spare horses to carry our bows, we would have discarded it. The bow was still hard for Peter to draw, but that helped to build his strength. His fingers bled and, each night, I heard him cry himself to sleep – for muscles ached which he did not know he had.
When his father returned, all of my company stood to hear the boy’s decision. I said to his father, “We would have him as an apprentice, but I know not if he still wishes to join us.”
We all looked at Peter. He smiled and put his bloody hands behind him. “I confess, father, that is has been hard; harder than I thought it would be. It has not deterred me. I am still resolved to be an archer. This is a good company of men, and they are both kind and honest. None has raised a hand to me when I made a mistake. If they will have me, then I will come with you, say farewell to my mother and my sisters, and return here to join the company of the War Bow.”
Rafe held out his good arm. “Thank you, Captain.”
“Thank you. When he is an archer I will return him to you, and he can then make his own decision about his future. For now, we serve Geoffrey of York, but one day we will return to our former master. I will not say who that is, save to say that he is a nobleman. We will look after your son as though he was our own. We will be as foster fathers to him. We will keep him as safe as it is possible, but war…”
He looked ruefully at his left arm. “Aye, Captain, I know better than most.”
August was soon upon us, and the carters and their wagons arrived at the hall. There were eight of them and they were laden. Geoffrey of York had arrived back six days before the wagons. He showed me honour by telling me about our destination and cargo.
“We have eight wagons, and they are bound for the Earl of Gloucester. We have to travel over the saltway in Longdendale. It is also called the Pass of Woodhead. As this is north of the lands of de Ferrers in Derbyshire, your services may not be needed.”
I kept a straight face. The Earl of Gloucester had fought Lord Edward and de Ferrers was my enemy – however, he was right. That remote route passed through the lands of Chester, and the earldom of Chester belonged to Lord Edward. However, it also passed close to Clwyd, and Baron Henry might remember me.
“We have a cargo of weapons. There are crossbows, swords, pikes and helmets as well as hauberks and German plate. That will need to be guarded carefully, Captain, for each suit of plate is worth more than thirty pounds. We have three of them.”
It seemed I had been robbed as I had suspected, and Sir Roger must have been a rich man if he could afford plate armour.
“Would bandits risk the robbing of a wagon for plate and mail? I could understand the swords, but where would they find a market for plate armour?”
He smiled. “It may surprise you to know that I managed to buy a suit of plate armour as well as three hauberks here in York. The weaponsmith was a little evasive about their origins, which led me to believe that they were taken by bandits! As you will learn, bandits and brigands steal first and worry later where to sell it. We pass through Holmfirth, and after that there is nothing save wild country. This is not a journey I would undertake in winter. We get there as soon as we can and then pick up a cargo of salt and cheese from Namentwihc before reversing our journey. That cargo may be more valuable to the bandits of the high country. I hope that you and your men are a waste of money. This is the easier of the trips we will make, our next one will be harder, for we will travel to Oxford with spearheads, swords and jet from Whitby. There we are forced to pass through de Ferrers’ lands, and he is a terror to honest merchants. He charges a tax to all who use his road, and if we use the byways, he has his men take the cargo anyway. We will use the byways, and you and your men might be the surprise they do not expect.”
As we were leaving the next day I confided in my men. I did not tell them of Baron Henry, but all else they needed to know.
Jack of Lincoln found it amusing that we were transporting the armour we had sold to the weaponsmith, young Peter just took it all in. We had kitted him out, too. He had returned with serviceable clothes, but he needed a cloak. We had the cloaks from our dead comrades. They were good cloaks, which were well oiled and would keep a man dry in all but the worst of storms. We cut one down for him. We also cut down a hood and a cap. If he was training to be an archer then he needed to look like one.
He had his bow and he had arrows; we just gave him hunting arrows. It was unlikely that he would use them in battle, anyway. When we fought, he would be busy carrying arrows for us. We also gave him a pair of daggers. One was long enough for him to use as a sword if he needed to. We had trained him to use a bow and, on the journey across the high land, we would show him how to use his other weapons. We gave him our smallest horse, Daisy – she wa
s a docile mount but still seemed too big for him. We had impressed upon him that he had to keep up with us; he was our apprentice, but we could not be his nursemaids. We had a job to do.
We headed south, towards Loidis. Here, we were still under the protection of the sherriff. Even so, we started as we meant to go on. Tom rode at the fore as our scout. Stephen’s death still hung heavily upon him, but he was rigorous and knew how to spot danger. I rode with Geoffrey of York. He wore a leather byrnie beneath his tunic and a helmet. He had a sword and had told me that he knew how to use it. His father had handled himself well in Poitou. A man named Simon, who had worked for Geoffrey and his father for years, was the lead carter. My men spread out along the side with John of Nottingham, Jack of Lincoln and young Peter at the rear. We had not brought our spare horses as they had been left at Easingwold. Geoffrey of York might be just a merchant, but we had hired on to guard him – and guard him we would. I was no less vigilant than I had been when I watched the heir to the English crown.
We made less than fifteen miles a day, and our progress was tortuous. One benefit was that Peter became a better rider, and he was able to learn how to care for the horses. The carters took to him and gave him tips.
I could see why Geoffrey of York had not chosen this journey in winter. After we crossed the tiny bridge and corn mill that was Holmfirth, our journey became even tougher. We had spent the night in the tiny hamlet; we had to camp but were able to buy fresh bread, and we knew that would be in short supply until we reached the villages of Marple and Marple Bridge. As we ascended the twisting road that led to the Woodhead Pass, the carters had to walk next to their horses, in order to ease their burden. I looked up at the rocks and rough ground ahead. This was perfect bandit country. I made a decision. “Archers, dismount and string your bows. Peter, stay with the pack horse in case we need arrows.”