Sea Warriors

by Martin Archer

  Earlier this year we’d bought the place, pigs and pig shite and all. We’d been digging an escape tunnel to reach it from our post ever since. It was our hope that the tunnel would come up under the low roof covering the pigs amongst their shite so no one would blunder into it.

  More than likely, of course, it would come up somewhere else and we’d have to move the pigs to cover it.

  Evan Miner, an archer from Wales, a thin man who had made his mark on our contract as Evan the miner, was the two-stripe chosen man in charge of the five archers digging the tunnel. Every one of them was an experienced Welsh tin miner temporarily assigned to our London post for the purpose of digging the escape tunnel. Evan and Robert Heath, our four-stripe post sergeant in London, accompanied us as we walked to the pigsty and the pig keeper’s hovel.

  Robert’s scrivener, a red-faced cleric from Kent named Rufus, should have been with us. Unfortunately, Robert told us ruefully, Rufus had disappeared several weeks ago.

  Damn. Now we’ll have to find Robert another cleric to do his scribing and summing. Or perhaps one of Thomas’s students is ready?

  It was clear that the construction of our post’s escape tunnel was well underway but that it was nowhere near complete. The tunnel’s not being finished was important. Our London post would not be safe from the robbers and thieves who abounded in the city of London until it was completed and its exit hidden. It meant that any coins we’d get from the sale of our prizes, or from carrying cargos and passengers to and from London, would have to be kept under close guard on one of our galleys.

  After we finished inspecting the pigsty where we hoped the tunnel would exit, Harold and Harold’s apprentice sergeant, the lad who acted as his scrivener and did his sums, joined us and we walked to the White Horse public house for a bowl of juniper brew and an ox joint. I was lost in thought thinking about what Thomas and Yoram had told me on the quay when they explained why they had been at our post instead of being on the quay to greet us when we arrived—they’d gone back to the post to meet with a messenger who had ridden in from Windsor.

  The message the rider had brought was disconcerting to me and everyone else and prompted our immediate inspection of our new London post instead of going straight to the White Horse to celebrate—the King had heard about our victory and was coming to London tomorrow to see the French prizes for himself. William Marshal and others of the king’s courtiers were coming with him.

  ******

  The White Horse was crowded as the ten of us ducked our heads to get through the narrow door and make our way into the crowded and smoky room. The alewife recognised Thomas and raised her hand to signal him that there would be but a moment’s wait. She quickly moved some drunken fishermen out of a corner table with the promise of a free bowl of juniper brew for every man if they would move to another table. They jumped at the chance and gave us big smiles.

  There were a lot of nudges and pointing with their chins as some of the men recognised us when we walked in. No surprise in that; everyone except Thomas was wearing one of the Archer Company’s simple but distinctive tunic gowns with the broad stripes signifying our ranks on our fronts and backs. Thomas was the only exception; he was wearing a simple priest’s robe instead of the bishop’s robe and mitre he was entitled to wear for the bishopric he’d bought fair and square from both the King and the Pope. He was also, of course, equally entitled to wear an archer’s tunic with the six stripes of a lieutenant, for an archer and a lieutenant he surely was.

  Harold whispered something to Robert Heath who promptly nodded his head in agreement and got up and left. Then Harold motioned the alewife over and whispered something in her ear as well.

  “What was that all about?” I inquired of Harold. “I particularly invited Robert to join us. I want to hear how things are going here in London and what he’s learnt.”

  “Robert’s a good man, but I needed an errand run, and he’s the best man to do it. He’ll be back soon. He can tell you about London’s happenings and our prospects when he returns.”

  ******

  Ten minutes and one bowl of juniper brew later, Robert re-appeared leading almost a dozen archers carrying swords and galley shields. He settled into the empty space on the wooden bench next to George with a nod to Harold; the archers sat themselves on the benches along the two tables that the alewife’s husband had pulled over to be a barrier between us and the rest of the smoke-filled room. The archers looked particularly determined.

  I raised my eyebrows in a question and looked at Harold. He smiled back at me and explained.

  “You’ve only got one good leg left and I’m not taking any chances. Yoram told me there was fighting in the taverns last night between our men who were bragging about the prize money they were about to receive and some of the local lads who were jealous.”

  Then he smiled again and explained the determined looks on the archers’ faces to me.

  “I had Robert tell the archers that you intend to pass out their prize coins as early as tomorrow or the next day even if you had to personally borrow them from the moneylenders, and that it wouldn’t do to have you chopped down by a jealous local lad so you couldn’t pay them.” Well, there goes my chance to change my mind about paying out the prize money.

  Chapter Two

  We borrow the prize money.

  According to Yoram and Thomas, the King’s messenger had volunteered that the King and his courtiers seemed quite excited and pleased by the news we had surprised the French army’s transports at anchor in the Harfleur harbour and taken so many of them as prizes.

  The courtiers’ excitement and pleasure was certainly understandable. Our taking of the French armada almost certainly meant that there would be no French invasion this year, and, thus, there would be no additional scutage or extra taxes collected, as would be the case if the King had to pay for a war with Phillip of France and the rebel barons Phillip had been coming to support. Now only the rebel barons remained as an immediate threat to the King and the purses of the King’s supporters.

  The question for us, of course, was whether the King’s coming to London was a danger to us because we attacked the French without his permission. Of course, we didn’t tell the King our plans. We couldn’t. We were not totally daft; his court would have heard about it within minutes and the French spies would have known we were coming and been waiting for us.

  What was also weighing on my mind as I sipped on my bowl of juniper was how the dissident barons, and particularly the Earl of Devon, would react to the French defeat. They were sure to be sorely unhappy and discomforted since they had offered the English throne to Phillip and pledged him their support if he would bring his army and help them overthrow John. Unfortunately, there was no telling how Devon and the rebellious barons would react to the news that Phillip’s army would not be coming to join them when they rose against the King. Violently, would be my guess.

  Indeed, it was probably a good thing Thomas and Yoram passed through Devonshire on their way to London whilst the barons and their men were still in Exeter waiting to greet the arrival of the French King and his army. Otherwise, they might have come up the old Roman road from Exeter Castle and attacked them as they passed by on their way to London.

  Oh well, done is done, was my thought as I sniffed my bowl with appreciation and took another sip. Hopefully, the old archer and his wife we placed in an Exeter alehouse as spies will be able to tell us who was there with Devon and what their intentions might be now that the French won’t be coming.

  “Thomas, we’ve got to talk about the King’s visit,” I said to my priestly brother with a satisfied belch. “It complicates everything and it could be dangerous. The messenger may have said the King was happy about our victory, but with John you never know.”

  Then, after a pause, I added, “But I’ve got an idea.”

  I let Robert and Evan listen so they could understand the role I wanted them to play for the King when he arrived.

  ******

>   The joint I gnawed on was tough and cold and the bowls of juniper brew burned my throat as they went down. All in all, it was a wonderful meal for a hungry and thirsty man. Afterwards, I walked with my lieutenants and our guards and apprentice sergeants back to our London post to get a goose feather and some parchments. I had decided to send a message to one of the city’s moneylenders, the big one used by the King.

  I intended to try to borrow enough coins to give every man two silver coins for his prize money and another two for every stripe he wears. And now that I knew the King was coming, I was going to try to do it immediately even before we attempted to sell the prizes we didn’t want to keep for our own use.

  In fact, we had more than enough coins to pay the men who came with us on the raid without borrowing them, a hundred times more. But I wanted the word to get back to the King and his courtiers and tax collectors that we had to borrow the coins we needed to pay our men. As always, I wanted the King and everyone else to think we were poor and had no coins of our own to pay in taxes.

  I sat on a chest and scribed a parchment to the merchant who’d been named to me as the King’s personal moneylender. I told him I’d be coming to visit him in an hour or so and why. I actually hoped he would turn me down for a loan. That way the word of our poverty and need to borrow in order to pay our men would get back to the King and his courtiers without us actually having to borrow the coins.

  If the King’s moneylender did turn me down, as I hoped and expected, we’d use our own coins from the captains’ pouches on each of our galleys and pretend we’d borrowed them from someone else.

  ******

  The King’s moneylender didn’t do as I hoped and turn me down. To the contrary, I immediately received a most cordial response saying he was sure he and the members of his guild could accommodate me and offering to come to me immediately or at any time of my choosing. He also said he would be equally honoured to have us visit his humble stall in the city market at our convenience to discuss whatever he and the members of his guild could do to assist us. He made his mark on his parchment as David Levi.

  I didn’t know moneylenders had a guild; I wonder if the King taxes them. Surely, he does.

  We promptly began to walk to the market with David Levi’s messenger scurrying on ahead to tell him we were on our way.

  London’s most important moneylender was standing in front of his stall waiting as I walked up to his shop with my lieutenants and guard of archers. George, of course, came with us. The market was crowded and we’d drawn curious looks as we moved through it.

  Good. The word would get about that we are so poor that we had to come grovelling, cap in hand, to a moneylender to borrow coins so we could pay our men.

  The man we’d come to see was tall and lean with intelligent eyes and a small cap on the back of his head. We bowed to each other as if we were courtiers and shook hands. He most courteously named himself as David Levi and seemed to know all about me and Cornwall and the Company of Archers which I had the honour of captaining. He even knew that we sometimes operated under the name of the Order of Poor Landless Sailors and had shipping posts on Cyprus and elsewhere.

  During the customary social and pleasantries period before getting down to business, my new friend mentioned that he had already heard about me and the Company of Archers from several merchants in Alexandria with whom he traded. Then David really surprised me by noting that one of our galleys had carried his brother and his family to safety from Constantinople when the crusaders attacked and sacked it instead of going to the Holy Land. David was a friendly sort and we were soon on a first-name basis.

  Several of David’s fellow moneylenders, all merchants with their own market stalls, were with him to greet us and so were two of his sons, Issak and Aaron. The terms for a loan of eight thousand silver coins surprised me by being quite reasonable, particularly if we repaid them quickly. And that, of course, is exactly what I had every intention of quietly doing even before I returned to Cornwall. In any event, I pledged my name and twenty of our prizes and borrowed eight thousand silver coins to pay out as prize money, more than enough so that every one of our men could receive two silver coins plus two more for each stripe he wore.

  What was so interesting is that David seemed to understand why I was coming to him to borrow the coins to pay our men. He didn’t object at all when we conducted our business in the open area behind his stall so that all of the men with me could see and hear. It was almost as if he had read my mind and understood why I wanted my men and the market’s merchants and the King’s spies to listen.

  The news that I had to pledge my name and prizes in order to borrow coins to pay my men their prize money will spread like a wildfire when my guards get back to our galleys and prizes. Hopefully, it will reach the King and his courtiers and tax collectors as well.

  ******

  About an hour later, a heavily-guarded horse cart carrying linen pouches filled with silver coins clattered up to David’s stall as we toasted our new relationship with bowls of wine. The coins were in eighty linen sacks of exactly the same size. I could see that each of the sacks was exactly the same size as all the others and I instinctively knew the tally would be absolutely accurate.

  I wasn’t even going to bother to count the coins but David quietly insisted that I select at least one of the pouches and count them so everyone could see the coins as I counted them. I’m sure he made the suggestion so my men and everyone else in the market could see that I’d actually borrowed them.

  It was a good idea and I should have thought of it myself. My men were already in a good mood from our successes, and it got even better as they saw the silver coins being counted whilst they were enjoying the cheeses and bowls of ale David’s servants continued to press upon them. David is definitely a man to know.

  “That is a man whose family we must get to know and befriend,” I quietly told George afterwards as we walked together back to the quay. “Not to borrow more coins from him, mind you, but for information and other things that we might do together.”

  Thomas and Yoram nodded their heads in agreement.

  I linked my arm with George’s as we walked behind the horse cart and quietly explained why we had borrowed the coins to pay the men their prize money even though we didn’t need to do so. George listened intently and seemed to understand. Thomas walked on the other side of my son and chimed in or nodded from time to time to show his agreement. I spoke quietly so that no one else around us could hear.

  As we approached the quay, I told George what I wanted him to do next.

  “Tomorrow, after the King leaves, you would do well to send a message to David’s sons and invite them to sup with you and John and Steven at whichever tavern or alehouse they would most enjoy. Take a file of guards to keep you safe and do your best to befriend them.

  “You can talk about anything with Issak and Aaron except that we have our own coins both with us here in London and in Cornwall. Tell them all about your family and schooling and adventures, but never ever even so much as hint or in any way suggest that we might have coins with us or even a small stock of coins and treasure in Cornwall or Cyprus. Even John and Steven don’t need to know about such things.

  “When asked by David Levi’s sons or anyone else, you and your sons after you must always, absolutely always, now and forever, maintain that we never have any coins of our own because whenever we get them we must immediately share them with our men to keep them loyal.

  “Making people think we are very poor but always dependable is important, George. You must always remember how important it is to make people think we are poor but can always be counted on to be reliable and do the right thing. Moreover, you must make sure that the need to hide our wealth is passed on to your sons and their sons after them. But you must make sure that neither you nor your heirs after you never so much as hint or make a display of wealth to anyone at any time so long as there is a King or court above you who might learn of it and find an excuse
to take it by force or in taxes.”

  It was a message George had heard many times before both from Thomas and from me; hopefully, he understands why it is so important.

  “Do you understand what I’m telling you, George?”

  We reached the quay with the cart full of coin pouches and loaded them into the forward castle of Harold’s galley. Before we did, Harold moved his galley and lashed it on to two others already tied up along the quay. Robbers and thieves would have to come across those two galleys full of our fighting men to get to the coin pouches and carry away the men’s prize money. It was not likely to happen.

  When we finished stowing the coin pouches, I used the shite nest in the galley’s stern to put a turd in the harbour and led my intrepid band of archers back to the White Horse for another round of food and more of the juniper brew. The wind died down whilst we were inside and a light rain started. It had been a good day and we celebrated it.

  ******

  George, Thomas, and I spent the night in the forward castle of Harold’s galley. We lit a candle lantern and talked for hours. Harold and my other lieutenants and apprentice sergeants slept in the castle in the stern. Robert and Evan and the archers stationed in London spent the night somewhat safely tucked away in our post as they have been ever since we bought it. They and any coins we might keep in London won’t be safe until the tunnel is completed and a false wall is built across the back of the shop to conceal the tunnel entrance and force anyone who wants to use it to come down into the space behind the wall from the room above the shop.

  The escape tunnel and false wall was Yoram’s idea and a good one that we use at all our posts. The post sergeant sleeps with the post’s coin chest in the room above the space where he meets merchants and potential passengers and the post’s guards sleep at night. He gets to it with a ladder which he pulls up behind him every night. If he needs to escape, he lowers the ladder into the little room behind the wall and climbs down it and goes out the tunnel with the coins.