by Griff Hosker
“Well, Gerald?”
“The Earl of Leicester is in Wales, my lord. I believe he is west of Newport. He appears to be talking to the Welsh! There is a garrison of less than a hundred in Gloucester.”
Had I told him that I had rescued his father I could not have had a better reaction. “By God, we have him! John, I want every bridge over the Severn destroyed! Every boat must be either pulled to the eastern bank or demolished. We have him trapped, and his army is still in the east!”
“Yes, my lord.”
I was ignored as the two men talked. “We retake my home, Lord Edward, and have men on the western bank to guard the bridge. All we need now is the armies of de Warenne and de Valence to join us and we can defeat him.”
Lord Edward shook his head. “I want this victory to be a complete one. I do not want to leave any heads on this hydra. Where is the young Simon de Montfort, eh? We have time, for with every bridge destroyed we force his son to try to help his father. We take Gloucester and the bridge first.”
De Clare nodded. “You have a better idea of strategy than I do, lord.”
Lord Edward turned his stare to me. “You have done well, Gerald, as always. When we have taken Gloucester, I have a task for you and your men.”
“Aye, lord?”
“Find the Earl of Leicester’s son, young Simon de Montfort.”
“But he could be anywhere to the east of us!”
“I did not say it would be easy, but know that he will have a large army, perhaps as many as 300 knights, and they will be heading west.”
De Clare nodded eagerly. “And I know where he was the last time I was with the enemy. He was besieging Pevensey Castle.”
“Then it is decided. We take Gloucester first, and when I know that de Montfort is trapped, you find his son for me.” He smiled. “Now, get some rest, for you will be leading the vanguard tomorrow. Captain William now has a company, and you two will be with Sir John and his retinue. It will be my banner which leads my army to Gloucester. I want them to know that this is my time! I have waited long enough and now I will show them my teeth!”
Chapter 14
Our spare horses now proved to be invaluable, for we would need them if we were to scout out the road to Gloucester. I met with Sir John and Captain William after I had eaten. I told them all that there was to know. It was Sir John who offered a word of caution. “I know that Lord Edward is confident, but they may reinforce Gloucester. I know I would.”
“I saw no sign of knights in the castle, Sir John, and the men wore the livery of the Sherriff.”
He smiled. “Gerald, I am now a banneret, and that means I lead twenty of my own men. All it takes is for de Montfort to send ten bannerets, and the garrison you saw could grow from eighty or so to over 250. That would be a hard number to assault, especially as we cannot attack the riverside. Let us hope that they are not reinforced.”
Sir John proved to be prophetic. It was when we were just north of Tewkesbury, where the Avon and the Severn run close together, that my men and I caught up with the baggage of a column of men. We knew they were not allies, for they had the familiar white crosses on their armbands. It was Tom who found them, and he rode back to tell Captain William, Sir John and myself.
Sir John had also grown and was a more confident knight. “Captain Gerald, try to get ahead of them and slow them down. Captain William, let us chase them down!”
That was easier said than done, for the River Avon was next to the road; however, I remembered that there was a large loop in the River Severn. The adjacent land was not built upon, for it flooded. The column would be slowed as they rode through Tewkesbury, and we had a chance to get ahead across the flood plain.
“Peter, stay close to the baggage with the spare horses and war gear. The rest of you, ride!”
We left the road and headed for the river trail. It was wide enough for just one horse, and it was perilously close to the Avon. When, however, we reached the larger Severn, the river took a loop, and we saw open ground before us. This was June. I would not have risked as much in winter, for it would have been a boggy and muddy morass. It was firm riding, and we headed for the end of the Severn loop. The Gloucester road took a turn to the south-east after Tewkesbury, and our only chance to hold them was at the point where the road turned. We were too late. The vanguard was already heading south and I counted ten banners. There were still men heading down the road, and so I halted us 150 paces from the road. We had no horse holders, and we just dropped our reins and took out our bows.
The time it took to string our bows almost proved costly. Horns sounded, and some sergeants at arms and crossbowmen detached themselves from the middle and came charging across the flat ground towards us. We were only saved by the fact that crossbows took longer to load than a bow.
“Release when you have a target!”
John of Nottingham was the first ready, and his arrow struck a crossbowman in the head. They were the more dangerous target. The twenty sergeants rode poor sumpters, and they would be waiting until the crossbows had thinned us out before attempting to charge archers. I heard the sound of battle from our left as Sir John and Captain William attacked the baggage train. We might not be able to stop the enemy getting to Gloucester, but we would stop some of them from doing so, and we would make sure that they had no supplies with them. I knew that my pursuit of Simon de Montfort’s son would be delayed. There would be a siege and we would be involved.
I sent an arrow with a needle bodkin towards the sergeant who led the charge, and he tumbled over the back of his horse. I was fast and had a second bodkin nocked and ready in the blink of an eye.
I aimed at the next rider, as I could leave my men to deal with the crossbows. I hoped to discourage the sergeants. The second rider held his shield before him, and so I aimed at his right side and saw my arrow pierce his leg. It was a waste of a bodkin; I could have used a war arrow. I chose a war arrow next and aimed at the horse of the nearest rider. The arrow struck it in the shoulder. A warhorse would have carried on, but the sumpter wheeled and barrelled into the next rider, unhorsing him. That proved too much for the sergeants. The survivors turned and rode after their lords who were now racing for Gloucester.
Our own horses had wandered over to the river to drink, all save Eleanor who stood patiently close by.
“Robin, David, fetch the horses. The rest of you search the dead and destroy the crossbows.”
We had slain eight men, and we used the broken crossbows to make a pyre. By the time Captain William found us, the battle of the baggage train was over and the column had disappeared.
“We have hurt them, Gerald. We killed all fifteen of their rear-guard and took their baggage and horses. There are twenty-three accounted for, and you will have wounded some. The crossbows you burned cannot be used against us.”
I shook my head. “Aye, lord, but it is not a victory, and now we have a siege to prosecute.”
“The fortunes of war.”
We pushed on hard and, as we reached the town, we saw that the gates were still open and people were flooding into the town. Sir John was decisive. “Let us charge them and take the town! We can seize the castle before the garrison is reinforced with townspeople.”
Sir John and his squire both had good horses, as did I, and we soon began to outstrip our men. I drew my sword. There was a press of men at the gate. As we approached, some fled towards us, but the majority tried to get inside the gates, and the men trying to close them had no chance. Once we were at the gates, our three snorting, biting horses helped to clear the way, the press of men diminishing as people moved away from us. I thought they might succeed in closing the gates, until Sir John made his horse rear and its hooves smashed into the gates, forcing them open. I dug my heels into Eleanor and swept down with my sword. The gatekeeper held up his spear but my blade sliced it in two and then ripped open his head. Sir John and his squire chased away the other guards, and so we had the gate.
As our men poured throug
h, we galloped towards the castle. This time, they made no mistake, and the bridge was raised before we reached it. The ten knights who surrendered to us would not join the garrison. Sir John sent Captain William to secure the bridge over the Severn: with that in our hands and the rest of the Severn bridges destroyed, then Simon de Montfort was trapped.
We waited for Lord Edward and the Earl of Gloucester to arrive. They reached us at dusk. We had made no attempt to speak with the garrison as that was a task for Lord Edward. We had managed to secure the town, and that had surprised even me. When Lord Edward saw the two of us at the gate he leapt from his horse. “And the castle?”
“Sorry, my lord, they secured the gate and, worse, there are now ten bannerets and their retinue within the walls.”
The hint of a frown passed over his face and then he smiled. “The bridge is in our hands?” We both nodded. “Then this is better than we might have either hoped or expected. I will go and talk terms with them. They will refuse, of course, but there is an order to these matters.”
We accompanied him. We had placed my archers and Sir John’s men at strategic places in the town, but seeing the Earl of Gloucester striding along with us encouraged the populace to cheer us. He was, after all, their lawful liege. De Montfort had returned his title and lands to him, Lord Edward had confirmed it.
At the gate, Lord Edward took off his helmet and his gauntlets. “I am Prince Edward, son of King Henry of England, who holds the castle against your lawful liege?” There was a delay as someone was brought. Eventually, a face appeared on the gatehouse.
“I, Matheus Werill, High Sherriff of Gloucester, command the castle.”
“Then open the gates and admit your lawful lord, Gilbert de Clare, and the Earl of Chester and heir to the crown!”
“I fear I cannot, my lord, for the castle has been taken over by knights who are loyal to the Earl of Leicester, and they will not surrender.”
That puzzled all of us. Why were they not speaking to us? The Earl of Gloucester was famed for his red hair and his fiery temper and he spoke again, much to the irritation of Lord Edward.
“Are they cowards, that they will not face us?”
“I am sorry, my lord, but they seem to think that relief will be coming their way.”
“Each day that I am kept waiting for the surrender will increase my anger. Think on that.”
He turned to Sir John. “Have men cross the bridge and secure the other side.”
“Yes, lord.”
Surprisingly, Lord Edward did not evict burghers for their houses. Instead, we camped outside the town walls. I wondered what was behind that. The next morning, he held a council of war with his lords. As his two captains, William and myself were also invited. I could not get over the change a year had wrought in Lord Edward. He had come of age.
“My lords, gentlemen, by my reckoning, there are fewer than 200 knights and men at arms in the castle. They have not had time to lay in great quantities of food and fodder. We cannot build war machines as they would take time to build, and time is our enemy. Thanks to Sir John every bridge and boat on the Severn is destroyed. However, that still leaves the sea. The earl and I will cross the bridge to Chepstow, for I would have ships watch for Montfort. It may well be that he tries to cross by sea and join up with his son who, the last we heard, was in Pevensey. Until then, we prepare for battle. Keep a good watch on the castle and send word to me in Chepstow if and when they eventually surrender. When Sir Roger arrives, he is to command the siege. Until he arrives, it is your responsibility, Sir John.”
We left the next morning for Chepstow. We had half of the army with us, and it was the more powerful half, for we had most of the knights and were all mounted. I knew that it was across the river from Newport, and I confess that I had feared that de Montfort would come by water. I still did not know how we would deal with such a threat.
We rode with Captain William’s men and mine. We also had ten of de Clare’s young knights and forty men at arms as well as Lord Edward’s young knights. It did not seem enough, to me, to protect Lord Edward from harm. Two days later we reached Chepstow, which was still loyal to the king. I did not know that de Clare had kept men on the north side of the estuary. I had to admire the move because we had, effectively, cut de Montfort off from not only the Severn but also the River Usk. He would be trapped in Wales, and his only escape would be across the channel between Wales and England.
It was as we prepared that we had word from the siege. Baron Mortimer himself brought us news: Gloucester castle had succumbed. The garrison had departed the city swearing not to fight for forty days. I suspect that, had Lord Edward been there, the agreement would have been more draconian. This worked out well, for the knights who swore the oath were young knights with great skill in battle and were a grievous loss to the Montfortian cause.
De Clare had spies in Wales, and one managed to return to Chepstow to report that Simon de Montfort, at Pipton, had given away five royal castles to Llewelyn to form an alliance with the Welsh. That they were not his to give was irrelevant. It was a disaster, and Lord Edward looked as angry as I had ever seen him. With the west secure, for the Welsh would raid the Marcher lords, Simon de Montfort turned east. The rumour was that he was heading for Newport and, perhaps, England. I know that Lord Edward hoped for a battle, but de Montfort was far too clever for that; he would head for a reunion with his son. Pevensey was on the south coast, and de Montfort could sail to Southampton or Pevensey itself. In one clever move, he would have outwitted Lord Edward. It was then that the Earl of Gloucester showed he had the mind of a general. He came up with the idea of putting men in ships and sailing to stop de Montfort reaching England by sea.
With hindsight, it seems an easy enough plan – but it was a risk. Lord Edward once again showed his experience. “Aye, and we will march to Newport and confront him at the bridge of the Usk. Fill three ships with all of our archers.” He turned to me. “Gerald, let us show these Welsh that my archers are their superior! Take my archers aboard one of the ships.”
“Aye, lord.” I was less than enthusiastic.
I had never fought at sea and the prospect frightened me, for I could not swim. Nonetheless, I obeyed. “We will only need war arrows. Peter, stay ashore and guard the horses.” I saw the disappointment on his face, but if we were to drown, he would survive. The other archers went to the other two ships Lord Edward had hired, but I kept my company all together. We boarded a ship, which I can only describe as a pirate ship.
Captain William One Eye looked every inch the pirate from his black patch to his double-handed sword, but he welcomed us aboard. “Ah, Captain, you are just what we need. I have no archers. Mayhap you can remedy that fault. You shall have an easy time, for my men row!” His mild manner was at odds with his features. We set sail amongst a fleet of twenty ships, seventeen of which had been commandeered by the men of Bristol, and I was glad that ours was one of the bigger ones.
We headed downstream towards Newport. We would not be at sea, as the Severn was an estuary, but I still found the motion of the boat unnerving. I had been on ships before, but I had never had to fight from one. I felt, as I was sure my men did, a little lost.
The well of the ship was filled with the men who would row. They were a relic from the days when Vikings and Saxons rowed their ships to capture merchantmen. This, however, was not a dragonship. I had heard of those, and this was neither long nor narrow. It was almost tubby, with a high prow and stern. In the middle men were three to an oar, while nearer to the bow there was just one man to an oar.
The captain spoke to me, but all the time he was adjusting the tiller and glancing at the pennant flying from the mast. “Keep your men here, close to the tiller. Your job is to slay the men in their rigging and the men who steer their ship.” He tapped his chest; he was wearing a mail hauberk. “I have my own protection, and I am hard to kill. I hear that you and your men are good, Captain Gerald. I hope so, for my crew and our two consorts are the best.” He
waved a dismissive hand at the rest of the small fleet. “The rest give us numbers, but it is we who shall win the battle.”
“Captain, how do you know we can catch the enemy?”
“This is not the land, we are on a river – a mighty river at that. De Montfort, if he is going to sail, will have to sail on a high tide. This is just such a tide. He has to sail when the winds are favourable, from the north and east. Today is just such a day. We three ships are the only ones which are rowed and not at the mercy of the winds. He might try again tomorrow, but that will depend upon the wind coming from the same direction – and all sailors know that you cannot predict the wind. You can guess and deduce, but your Earl of Leicester is a creature of the land. We have seen, over the past days, ships gathering in Newport.” He chuckled. “We are paid to do this, but we would still have gathered to attack them without the pay. This means that we are doubly paid!”
Just then, a cry came from the masthead. “Captain, ships putting out from the river at Newport!”
“Now it begins. Prepare your men.” He used his left hand to cup around his mouth. “Not long now, lads, and I promise I will lay us alongside the biggest prize there is, and we shall be rich!” His men cheered.
“String your bows.”
I began to string mine, and I saw the snake of mounted men riding down the coast road from Chepstow to Newport. Would de Montfort flee or fight? Either course of action suited Lord Edward.
As we strung our weapons, Jack said, “How does a man keep his feet and use a bow on a ship? I fear I will hit nought but the sky or their sail. I am a good archer, Captain, but this will be impossible.”
I realised that I was the only one who had been at sea. I thought back to the first long voyage from the monastery to France. I heard the advice given to me by Dickon. “Keep your feet wide apart, and do as you would when hunting a deer that was running through the woods. Anticipate and lead the animal. We will not loose from a long distance. We will wait until we are less than one hundred paces from the ships and use our arrows wisely.”