Caging the Lyon

by H A CULLEY

  Sir Robert of Byrness and his archers were thrown out as a screen and Richard’s weary men joined the column as a rear guard. Richard himself rode with the leaders at the front, the knight carrying his banner and his squire tucking themselves in behind those of the other three lords. When they approached Norham it was to find the drawbridge raised and the gates locked. There seemed to be some consternation amongst the men at the top of the gatehouse, who were watching their approach. No doubt the banners of the constable and the chief justicar of England put the castle’s constable in something of a quandary. He must have known that his lord, the prince-bishop, was aiding the Scots against his king but here were two of the most powerful of King Henry’s advisers at his gates. In the end he decided he feared the wrath of Henry Plantagenet more than that of Hugh de Puiset and the drawbridge was lowered.

  The constable and the garrison were given one hour to leave and King Henry’s men settled down for a night of relative comfort in the castle. Over dinner the senior lords held a lively discussion about future tactics. Richard, as the most junior baron and the youngest by far, kept quiet. He was extremely loathe to lay waste the lands of his cousin, albeit a cousin of the second degree and once removed.

  It was during this discussion that the lords at the high table became aware of an altercation over to one side of the great hall. Bernard de Balliol’s squire, Waldo, who should have been serving his master, was evidently venting his spleen at Sir Robert of Byrness.

  ‘I know you for who you are, you vile murderer,’ he yelled, spittle flying at Robert’s impassive face. ‘You are the outlaw who killed my father.’

  ‘On what do you base such an accusation?’ John Little had walked up behind Waldo.

  ‘Eh? Because I know he is. How else would a large band of outlaws famed for their prowess with the bow disappear and then turn up here.’

  ‘Sir Robert is the lord of the manor of Byrness. Are you disputing that?’

  ‘He’s Robert of Locksley. I know he is, and he’s going to pay for killing my father.’ Waldo had gone red in the face and now went to draw his dagger. But before it cleared its sheath John Little’s big ham of a fist drove into Waldo’s face, splitting his nose and knocking the youth off his feet. As he sat there dazed with blood pouring out of his nose all down his best over tunic John leaned towards him.

  ‘If you’ve a shred of evidence you present it in court. If you haven’t, then stay clear of me and Sir Robert. If I see you even look his way again there’ll be more than one dead Waldo de Cuille. You understand me, boy?’

  Waldo nodded dumbly, still clutching his ruined nose.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Richard asked.

  ‘I think that someone just put my somewhat cocky young squire in his place.’ De Balliol smiled grimly. ‘And not before time’ he muttered to himself.

  The top table was about to return to its discussions when the door to the great hall banged open to admit a travel stained knight and a boy, presumably his squire, though the lad looked no more than twelve or thirteen.

  ‘Edward, what are you doing here? I thought you would be far south with Robert de Stuteville by now.’

  His brother smiled at him. ‘Well, Richard. I can’t let you have all the fun. I asked Lord Robert to release me as I suspect you might have need of me.’

  ‘Who’s this?’ barked Humphrey de Bohun in what Richard had learned was his normal voice.

  ‘My brother, my lord. He was with de Stuteville’s mesnie at Alnwick and now it seems he has come to join mine.’

  De Bohun conferred sotto voce with de Lucy who nodded. ‘Well, we were wondering what to do with this castle when we left. I can’t think of anyone better than the brother of a local baron to appoint as constable here, but only temporarily, mind.’

  ~#~

  Guy stood at the top of the keep of Berwick Castle looking at the River Tweed far below when he felt a hand slip into his. He turned and smiled at his daughter. Blanche was his favourite child. At fifteen her boyish body had filled out in all the right places whilst her face, if not exactly pretty in a conventional sense, had an elfin charm. He had been disappointed when Waltheof had responded full of regret but saying that Patrick had just been betrothed to Ada, an illegitimate daughter of King William. He sensed that Blanche hadn’t minded too much. She would hardly have remembered Patrick when he was a page here; she had been little more than a baby, and she hadn’t met him since.

  He had just heard that King William had been captured and the Scots army had been scattered to the four winds so all thoughts of betrothal and marriage had been driven from his mind. Guy had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before the English sent a punitive expedition north. It was ever thus, he thought. The Scots invaded the northern counties of England and returned home having done little more than plundered a few villages, which were easily enough to rebuild. The English organised a punitive expedition and laid waste the whole of Lothian, which would take years to recover. And this time, Guy suspected, they wouldn’t be satisfied with just punishing the Scots.

  He sent a message to Edmund at Craigmor to get the horse herds inside the outer bailey and tell his villagers to hide in the Lammamuir Hills. Then he prepared the defences of the town as best he could. Whilst the castle was one of the five strongest in Scotland and could withstand a siege of months, the town was only protected by a wooden palisade, which a strong force could easily overcome. He evacuated the elderly men, the women and children; most of them fleeing into the hills and moors around the town, then he armed the able-bodied men. They were under strict instructions to abandon the town and retire to the castle as soon as the palisade was breached. He had also offered the merchants the security of the dungeons for their valuables.

  Early on the morning of the seventeenth of July the English army approached Berwick. It consisted of nearly two thousand knights and mounted serjeants and a further two hundred mounted archers and crossbowmen, including Robert’s former outlaws. What they lacked was siege equipment. Normally such a small force would not have dared cross the border but, with no king, many of their leaders captured, and their own forces in complete disarray there was no organised opposition from the Scots.

  Guy had a garrison of a mere forty, many of his men having travelled south with the king. Few of these had yet returned, which caused him some concern. There were perhaps two thousand armed Berwickers, as the people of Berwick called themselves, but they weren’t trained to use weapons like the hardened professionals in the English army who had spent many years fighting on the Continent. It took less than an hour for the English to break into the town and then it was a massacre. Less than five hundred Berwickers reached the safety of the castle.

  A knight rode up to within a hundred yards of the gatehouse followed by another carrying a banner displaying three vertical fish on a red field. Guy recognised this as the device of the chief justicar of England, Richard de Lucy.

  ‘Guy FitzRichard, I call upon you to surrender this castle in the name of King Henry of England,’ de Lucy boomed up at him.

  ‘Good morning de Lucy. I was appointed by King William of Scots and so I am honour bound to hold this castle in his name until he instructs me otherwise.’

  The pleasantries over with, de Lucy retired to confer with Humphrey de Bohun. An hour later they and their men rode out of Berwick and continued on their way north to tackle easier prey.

  ~#~

  William of Scots sat despondently in his cell in Falaise Castle in Normandy. He had been imprisoned there to forestall any possibility of rescue by his countrymen, however unlikely that had been. After Newcastle he had been taken, still trussed up like a chicken, to Northampton where Henry Plantagenet was dealing with the aftermath of the rebellion in England. Here he was reunited with his brother, David of Huntingdon, not that David was earl of that shire anymore. Henry had seen them briefly to tell them that he had stripped both brothers of all their lands and castles in England. The earl of Fife and the marishal, Hervey de Keith
, had also been captured and the four were taken to the coast and shipped over the channel.

  At Falaise they were kept in separate cells but at least these were above ground and, if not exactly comfortable, they contained a truckle bed, slop pail and a chair. For such an active man as William it was torture to have nothing to do all day except think. Presumably that was intentional; Henry wanted William to contemplate the error of his ways. At last King Henry arrived at Falaise on the third of December, but he didn’t send for William until the seventh.

  ‘I intend to make sure you never invade my lands again,’ Henry began without preamble. ‘I am prepared to release you and the other three on one condition: that you sign a treaty bringing hostilities to an end and preventing you waging war on me in the future.’ He pushed a lengthy document across the table towards William, who had been kept standing between two knights at the other side of the table behind which the king of England sat. Henry gave the king of Scots a cold stare.

  ‘You have until this time tomorrow to study the treaty and discuss it with your fellow prisoners.’ He then waved his hand in dismissal.

  ‘I presume that you mean we have until tomorrow to study it and then we will negotiate on the terms, Henry?’ William shrugged the knights away as they tried to usher him from the room.

  ‘No I don’t. The terms are non-negotiable’ Henry almost spat at him. William could see the warning signs of one of Henry’s famous rages but he had one last question.

  ‘And if I refuse to sign?’

  ‘Then you will be transferred to less pleasant accommodation and left there to rot until you do, and the other three with you.’ Henry glared at him. ‘Now get him out of my sight.’

  William was taken to another room with a table and a bench where his brother David, the marishal and Duncan of Fife were waiting for him. They sat and silently read through the treaty with increasing disbelief.

  ‘He wants you to surrender the castles at Berwick, Roxburgh, Edinburgh, Stirling and Jedburgh. Not only that but we are to pay for their English garrisons. And Berwick itself is to become an English town.’ David was incredulous.

  ‘It gets worse’ Duncan put in. ‘You are forbidden from raising an army, even to put down an insurrection inside Scotland, without his permission.’

  ‘Yes, and he even reserves the right to select my wife for me.’ William now bitterly regretted not having got married before this.

  ‘And you are to do homage to him for Scotland as if he were king of Scots and not you. This is insufferable!’ David got up and paced around the small room.

  William put his head in his hands. ‘What have I done?’ he moaned. ‘I am to be no more than a glorified vassal.’

  ‘There’s more.’ Duncan had continued to read the treaty. ‘The Scottish Church is to be placed under the jurisdiction of the English primate.’

  ‘What? He can’t do that. The pope has decreed that the Scottish Church is subject to the Bishop of St. Andrews and he is answerable directly to the Pope.’

  ‘Henry is no respecter of the Pope’s authority or of anyone else’s, save his own. Look what happened to Archbishop Thomas Beckett’ David reminded him.

  ‘Is that it?’ Not that William could imagine that there was any further degradation that Henry could heap on him or his kingdom.

  ‘It’s more than enough. Yes. That’s it in essence.’ Duncan got up and looked at William. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Do? What choice do I have? If I refuse to sign it we stay here indefinitely.’ He sighed. ‘What a disaster. In order to try to regain an earldom I have lost a kingdom.’

  ~#~

  Edward de Cuille was feeling pretty pleased with life. Seven months ago he was a household knight with few prospects, then he had been appointed as temporary constable of Norham Castle, a magnificent stone fortress controlling one of the major crossings over the Tweed between England and Scotland. Now he had the king’s warrant as governor of Berwick and constable of its castle. He suspected that his brother Richard and his friend William de Vesci, the sheriff of Northumberland, must have had something to do with his appointment, but that didn’t detract from the importance of the appointment or its value in terms of revenue.

  He bade farewell to the new constable of Norham, a sour faced old knight called Fulk of Bedford, and departed escorted only by his squire and a servant leant to him by Fulk to lead his packhorse. His previous squire had been with him since he had been knighted four years previously but he had elected to stay in the service of Bernard de Balliol so Edward had to find one in a hurry when he took over Norham. He had asked his brother for his help and Richard had sent to Harbottle for one of their mother Alice’s pages, a thirteen year old boy called Avery FitzWilliam, one of William de Vesci’s bastards who Alice had taken on as a favour to her brother.

  Avery was due to turn fourteen in a few months but he was small for his age and he had developed something of a complex about appearing younger than he was. He was therefore felt really proud to carry his master’s banner. The white chevron on a black field between three gold dogs heads flapped in the breeze as the three set out for Berwick on a fine but cold morning in late February 1175. As they approached the castle from the west Edward had expected to see Guy’s banner flying. When he had last seen it Guy’s banner it had been almost the same as the one Avery carried with such pride, except for the three red roses on the chevron and the absence of the dogs’ heads. However this one displayed three rearing white horses on a green field. Beside it flew the red lion on yellow but soon the lion rampant would come tumbling down, just as the king of Scots had fallen, to be replaced by the three gold leopards on a red field of the king of England.

  The gates stood open to welcome its new constable and Edward and his companions rode in to be greeted by Guy and his family standing at the foot of the steps leading up to the door into the keep. Edward’s gaze swept over them then came back to rest on the girl standing beside her mother. The last time Edward had seen Blanche she had been a small child of five. Well, she wasn’t a child anymore. He noticed with pleasure that she had blushed when she looked at him and then had demurely studied the ground at her feet.

  Dragging his eyes away from her he dismounted and greeted Guy and then Emma.

  ‘I’m sorry we have to meet again in such circumstances, cousin. I wondered if it would be you. I was confused by the banner.’ He indicated the green flag with its prancing horses.

  Guy shrugged. ‘I changed my device years ago. You know Emma, and Blanche, of course.’ Edward greeted both politely and Blanche curtsied in response, continuing to keep her eyes looking downwards, but he could just detect a smile twitching at the corner of her lips. He tore his eyes away from her with difficulty.

  ‘Well, we are ready to depart as soon as I have handed the castle over to you.’ Guy indicated the line of carts drawn up in the bailey.

  ‘Oh, are you taking everything with you?’ Edward asked, somewhat alarmed. As a household knight he had very few possessions, apart from his horses, weapons, armour and a few clothes. He certainly didn’t have tables, chairs and a bed.

  Guy laughed. ‘No, had it been anyone else I would probably have taken everything but I’ve left you the high table, trestle tables and the like, and the beds. We already have everything we need at Craigmor, of course.’

  ‘Is that where you are going?’

  ‘For the moment, yes. Now that I have lost Berwick I will need to find a new base elsewhere in Berwickshire as sheriff. It can’t be Craigmor as that’s in the shire of Haddington. It’ll probably be at Lauder.’

  ‘What about the servants, are they staying?’

  ‘Most are yes, they’re Berwickers. You will need to find your own steward and butler though; they are coming with me. And so are the pages.’

  ‘I’ll probably see if my brother can help with the steward and butler, as he did with finding me a squire.’

  ‘Perhaps he can help find you a wife as well, now that you a man of importance
and can afford one,’ Guy said with a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘Oh, I may have already found one,’ Edward replied. Guy looked at him quizzically but didn’t say anymore before shaking Edward’s hand and going over to mount his horse.

  Guy left with a long procession trailing behind him. Shortly afterwards the servant from Norham returned whence he had come, taking the packhorse, so Edward and Avery were left in sole possession of the substantial castle. Bertram ran up to the top of the keep and raised the royal banner of Henry II and that of Edward on the empty flagpoles, then set about organising the servants to provide Edward and himself with a scratch meal whilst they waited for the garrison to arrive.

  Two hours later Edward watched the column of ten knights, thirty serjeants, twenty crossbowmen and forty men-at-arms march into the castle. He looked at them with a critical eye. They didn’t look too bad but he knew he would have to impose harsh discipline if he was to minimise friction between them and the Berwickers. At any rate two of the knights were friendly faces and had been his choice as the captain and lieutenant of the garrison.

  Two weeks later everyone had settled into a routine and, after he had hanged one of the men-at-arms for raping one of the wives of a Berwicker, he felt confident enough to leave Berwick in the hands of his captain and ride up the coast to see Guy. More importantly he wanted to see if his initial reaction to seeing Blanche was repeated.