by Griff Hosker
We camped at Holmfirth and woke to a white sea of snow. The pass was traversable only by horsemen, and soon it would be closed to those, too. We had barely made it, and it left me with the problem of how to return to Baron Mortimer in the depths of winter.
We were approaching Loidis when Will Yew Tree joined me at the front. He had been largely silent on our journey north and, for the last few miles, I had seen him speaking with Robin of Barnsley who was his closest friend amongst the company. Something troubled him, and I thought I knew what it was. Jack of Lincoln had confided in me that Will had found a widow who worked in The Feathers. Despite his red nose and cheeks, and the belly which hung over his belt, Will had only seen thirty-two summers. The widow was of an age with him, and I guessed that he was ready to settle down. I was prepared when he spoke.
He was a blunt man, and he came out with his words directly. “Captain, when we reach Easingwold I would stay there.” I nodded. “You are not surprised?”
“You have spoken before about your wish to have an alehouse. We have been successful; we profited from the mail, the plate and the warhorse. The men we slew on this journey have added to your funds, so it is no surprise, and I have told all of you that you may leave whenever you chose. Have you enough coins?”
He smiled. “Not yet, but I have a plan. I would speak with our master, for I think he still wishes guards for his wagons. I could seek out archers. I would not be a captain such as you, but I could lead a handful of men.”
“Good!”
“You do not mind?”
“I told you after Lewes that any man who chose could leave. You go with my blessing. I shall miss you, for you are a good archer. Who knows, we may come north again when Lord Edward regains what he has lost – his freedom!”
We reached home without any further incident, but we did not leave the next morning as I had initially planned. I realised that would have been unfair on Will and the rest of my men, not to mention Peter. We needed goodbyes. We celebrated as rain and snow lashed down outside. I sat with Geoffrey as men became drunk and laughter and song abounded.
“Will Yew Tree is a good man, sir. He will be able to find other archers, for he has a good eye. If Lord Edward does regain his power then the land will be safer anyway.” I was not convinced of my words, for England was filled with greedy men.
Geoffrey nodded. “I shall not need to travel again until after Candlemas anyway. You have earned your pay and more, Captain. I have not lost a single item and, thanks to Baron Mortimer, I received far more for the weapons than I had expected. I am richer for your presence.”
“And we are richer for having had home, albeit briefly.”
Chapter 9
We left the day after the celebration, and it showed as we rode, for my men had thick heads and queasy guts. We now had more than fourteen horses and our war gear, not to mention our spare clothes and treasures were carried upon the horses. We had no route decided upon but, once on the road, John and I decided to go to Nottingham. Jack of Lincoln was convinced that there would be more outlaws willing to leave the forest and join us. The losses we had suffered and Will’s departure, allied to the fact that there was now hope that Lord Edward would be freed, meant we needed more men for the company. The forests of Sherwood seemed the best place to find them. “Snow always does that, Captain. The greenwood is bearable in summer, but come winter and snow…” Jack shook his head.
There was little choice for us, in any case. The snows meant that the high passes were ruled out, and that meant passing through Derbyshire or Leicestershire. I just hoped that winter would keep those hunting for us in their castles or occupied in the politics of gaining control of England. However, we were taking a risk; only a fool would willingly go so close to their enemies. We were six such fools and a boy who knew not what he was letting himself in for.
We did not call in at Lincoln. I was convinced that we had been seen there and that had led to the first attack. They might have spies watching for archers. Nor did we visit Nottingham castle and the town. We kept to the smaller towns, which had no castles, and all the time our story remained consistent. We had been hired as guards for wagons, and now that the trading season had ended, we were heading for London to enjoy the pleasures of that city. We had no intention of venturing anywhere near the city, but we had to keep our enemies guessing. They might not be patrolling for us, but we had bloodied their noses too many times for them to forget us.
We used Hucknall Torkard, which lay close to the forest, as our base for the four days we spent seeking archers. We chose it because there was no castle, and the family who dominated the area, the Torkards, were farmers, and so long as men did not cause trouble they were left alone. The outlaws had little to raid close to the town, and the landowners allowed them to take rabbits and the occasional deer. The outlaws did not abuse the privilege.
We found an inn on the road south of the town. When it was not winter, there were many travellers who used it, for Nottingham was expensive as a resting place. We were welcomed. If the landlord wondered why we stayed for three nights, the silver we gave him invited him to keep his suspicions to himself. Jack and John disappeared for two days. They did not take their horses and, when they returned, it was with four men. All were less than twenty summers, and each of them was emaciated. Winter had barely begun, it was just November, and yet already food was scarce.
Jack introduced them one by one. He had not known them before, but he had known where to find them, and his name was known by them and the others who lived in the greenwood. These four had come willingly. Jack later told me that there were others, but they were a little older and had families.
“These, Captain, are the only ones who chose to come with us. I think the rest feared that if they were seen outside the forest then they might risk capture and punishment. This is Geoffrey, son of Martin. I knew Geoffrey’s father, for he was also an outlaw. He left our band and was killed last year. Lewis Left Alone is an orphan, taken in by the men of the woods when he had seen just five summers. He would like to see life beyond the trees, for that is all that he has known. William of Matlac had a farm close to his namesake. De Ferrers’ men killed his father and took the farm. That was three years since. The rest of William’s family perished, but William has the fire of vengeance burning in his heart!”
I nodded, for I could see an angry young man; perhaps he was a little like me with blood to avenge. He would need his anger curbing. I looked over to John, who nodded.
“Finally, this is Mark the Bowyer. His father was also a bowyer, but he was hanged in Leicester by the earl’s brother, Henry de Montfort.”
I looked at the bow maker. “Why was he hanged?”
“The earl’s brother said my father made bows for the outlaws. He did not, but Henry de Montfort had him hanged anyway.” He smiled. “So I went and made the best bows that I could for the outlaws. When I heard that you and your archers had fought de Montfort, I knew that I was destined to join you.”
I nodded. “I am captain of this company and, if you join us, then you obey me. If you cannot take orders then we will give you food, ale and five silver pennies and you can go on your way. Do any of you wish to take me up on that offer?” They all shook their heads. “We are Lord Edward’s archers. We have livery for two of you and, when we can get it, we will have livery made for the other two. When we get to Wigmore Castle, then Baron Wigmore will pay you. Until then your pay will come from the funds we have gathered as a company. You will all need a cloak, but that will have to wait until we find a market town. We have spare weapons; help yourselves to swords and daggers. As for arrows, you will need to learn how to fit bodkins and war arrows. You have used hunting arrows, and our prey is men! Welcome to the company of Gerald War Bow.”
Each one of the four was different, and none were like my other men. What they all had in common was the ability to pull a bowstring, but their weakened condition meant they would need fattening up until they could be of use. We redistribut
ed the war gear so that each of them rode. Peter found it amusing that he was no longer the novice rider and that his advice was sought by archers, a couple of whom were little older than he was.
The first part of our journey from Nottingham was fraught with danger, for we had to pass along the road which divided the land of de Ferrers from the land of de Montfort. We avoided every town and used farms that allowed us to pay for the use of their barns. We kept from the main road when we could and took greenways, tracks, even fields. Inevitably we had to use the main road occasionally, and each traveller we met was a potential enemy. Even if they did not know who we were they would talk, and our enemies would hear of a company of archers heading south and west.
We kept the new men in the middle of us. They were still weaker than we were and unused to travelling abroad. Peter proved a godsend, for he rode amongst them chattering like a magpie. Even the dour William of Matlac had to smile at his questions. I hoped that by the time we reached Burton we would have left pursuit behind.
It was not a pursuit that greeted us but a confrontation – and it was my fault. A blizzard blew up as we neared the tiny village of Walton on Trent. There was no inn and no barn. A yeoman told us that if we pushed on to Lichfield, we would find an inn. Lichfield was a cathedral city, but it was not large. The Bishop of Coventry was the lord of the manor and there was no castle. The new men were shivering, and we hurried on through the darkening gloom of a short November day. There was one inn and, when we dismounted, we saw that there were horses stabled there already. There was still room for ours and so, while the horses were stabled, John and I went in to acquire some rooms. There were just two left and neither was large. We would be cosy.
The inn was a popular one and, after we had put our war gear in the rooms, we went down to partake of the food. The landlord was apologetic. “Sorry, but these men have just had the last of our food. We can cook more, but you will have to wait.”
I looked and saw there was a group of men wearing the livery of the Templars. They were sergeants at arms and not brother knights. Their eyes narrowed when they saw us, for they knew us not. I remembered that Lord Edward had broken open the gates of the Temple in London and stripped their headquarters of treasure. The Templars were now, most definitely, Montfortian! I did not wish any trouble, and so I smiled and said, “Is there another place you can recommend, landlord?”
He was unhappy at losing the trade but pointed towards the centre of the town. “The Prancing Horse is not bad, but their ale is not a patch on mine!”
“Then when we have eaten, we will return here and give you judgement on your beer.”
Once outside we huddled in our cloaks. We would need to buy the new men cloaks at the market before we left in the morning.
John of Nottingham sidled up to me. “I think those archers recognised us as Lord Edward’s men.”
“How? We are not wearing our livery.”
“When we headed to Wales, we rode through a column of them, do you remember? They were heading for London. Lord Edward made some disparaging remarks about them as they passed us. They studied our faces and those of Captain William and his men. The scrutiny we had from those Templars makes me think that they recognised us. Jack of Lincoln has a memorable face, and how many other captains of archers are as young as you?”
He was, of course, correct – we did stand out. I hoped the Templars would be abed before we returned, or perhaps we could avoid the drinking area and go directly to our rooms. I needed no more enemies!
The food in the Prancing Horse was hot and it was filling. That was all that we asked. The beer, too, was adequate, and the meal allowed us to get to know our new archers a little better. William was the quietest of the four, and I could understand why. I had been a little like that, after my father was killed. Men said that I had become less morose and perhaps he would, too. We were going to leave when a sudden flurry of snow drove us to have another jug of ale. Peter, of course, had just watered beer, but he seemed happy to sit and listen to archers speak of their trade.
When we did leave, the snow had stopped, and we crunched on freshly-fallen snow. It was as we reached our inn that we met trouble. Eight of the Templars, with swords in their hands, blocked our way.
The leader stepped towards us. “You did not think we would forget you, did you? Taking off your livery and keeping your bows hidden does not disguise you. You are Gerald War Bow and the captain of Lord Edward’s Archers! He dishonoured us, and we will now punish you.”
I could smell the ale on his breath. These men had been drinking heavily. I held up my left hand while keeping my right on my sword. “Friend, you do not want to make an enemy of Lord Edward. When he becomes king, you will need him as a friend.”
He laughed. “He is in Wallingford Castle, and long may he remain there. We will not kill you, but you have pulled your last bows, for tonight you lose your fingers! At them!”
He thought to take us by surprise, but all the time we had been speaking, my men had been spreading out. I discounted my four new men for they were still weak, and Peter was too young. Eight against six were not normally good odds, but we had a few things going for us. They were mailed, which would slow them down, and we archers were all as good as most men at arms. If you added the fact that we were much stronger, then the odds were about even.
Despite the odds, I felt confident – for the leader said that he only wished to mutilate us. When you fought, you fought to kill! The leader ran at me and swung his sword at my head. Had he hit me then I would have been dead. So much for just punishing me! I sidestepped his swinging blow and brought the flat of my sword to smack hard into the back of his coifed head. He fell as though poleaxed. I spun around, for another ran at me with his sword held in his right hand and his left supporting the blade.
I did the unexpected. The wet snow was slippery, and I hurled my legs at him and slid beneath the blade. With my sword held above me, the blade rapped his knuckles and then slid between his legs. He squealed as my sword sliced into his unprotected flesh. The scream brought burghers to their doors. More, it made the other Templars stop – for John of Nottingham and Jack of Lincoln had laid their enemies cold, and there were now the swords of all my company, including Peter, pointing at them.
I pointed my bloody sword at them, too. “You are staying at our inn?” One of them nodded. “Not any longer.” I walked over to the sergeant I had laid out and placed my sword’s tip into the palm of his hand. “Go and fetch your horses. Do not delay, or your sergeant here will lose the use of his right hand. Pay your bill and leave.”
John of Nottingham saw them hesitate. “We are archers, and we are the best. If you come near us again then we will use our bows, and it will not just be bloody cockscombs you will suffer.”
One of them shook his head. I guessed that drink had fuelled their decision to hurt us, and now they realised their folly. “Come, we have to be in Leicester tomorrow anyway. Let us go now!”
The sergeant came to; the one who had been sliced along his groin was still moaning, but his wound had been tended to by one of his fellows. The other two had also been raised to their feet. I shifted the sword to point it at the sergeant’s throat. “Your men are getting your horses and you will leave. I hope we do not meet again, for if we do then it will go badly for you. It is a long time since you fought in earnest. Enjoy the riches of your order and stay out of politics. You will live much longer.”
He gave the slightest of nods. The clip-clop of their horses made me stand back and gesture for the sergeant to rise. They mounted and headed north. We watched them leave and then waited until the muffled sound of the hooves disappeared in the distance.
Mark the Bowyer shook his head. “I would never have believed that archers could take down mailed Templars!”
“They were slow, they were drunk and they were overconfident. By the time you are trained, Mark the Bowyer, then you will think nothing of taking on a man at arms with a sword.”
We were not t
roubled again, and the next day, after buying cloaks and some food in the market, we paid our bill and left. However, I was unhappy for we had been noticed by too many people, and the lands of de Montfort and de Ferrers were very close, still. The Templars were heading for Leicester, and they would report the incident. They would couch it in different words, to make out that we ambushed them. That would preserve their reputation – but they would tell the earl’s men of the fight, and we would be sought.
We rode south and west on the freshly fallen snow. We were the only ones attempting the journey, so we rode on virgin snow. John of Nottingham hung back in case we were followed.
We arrived at Wigmore Castle two days later; we had encountered no more enemies. Sir Roger was not at home. He had been summoned to a meeting. It sounded like a secret one, for those at Wigmore Castle were all close-mouthed about it. I knew not where the meeting was held, nor who else was at the meeting.
Surprisingly, Lady Maud invited me to dine with her and her young daughters, Isabella and Margaret. Roger’s sons, Ralph and Edmund, were with their father. I was intrigued, for I was a lowly archer and she a high-born lady, but I knew that I was being shown great honour. Lord Edward would never even contemplate dining with an archer. It was fortunate that I had bought some decent clothes, which I wore. I just hoped that I would not make some mistake that would embarrass me.
Lady Maud de Braose came from a long and noble line. Like her husband, she was an implacable enemy of the Welsh, whom she hated with a passion, but she also hated Simon de Montfort and his sons Simon and Henry. Her daughters were old enough to know how to flash their eyes. Both were pretty and soon would be married to powerful men, for that was the way of the world of nobles – Lady Maud kept the two girls in check with a flash of her own eyes. The food we ate might have been good but I tasted nothing, for I thought about each word before I spoke it. My hostess was a clever woman, and she used her words like weapons to probe, and her eyes searched my face for evidence of lies and untruths. I believe that, had it been allowed, she could have donned mail and fought alongside her husband. Certainly, she knew about war and, surprisingly, she also knew of me. We made talk about the weather and the journey we had made from the north. She raised her eyebrows when I told her of the encounter with the Templars. The food came and went. A single servant poured our wine and ensured that the other servants brought in the platters when we needed them. We finished with cheese.