by Griff Hosker
When we left the next day Captain Tom had told me he would find as many willing men as possible. We would choose the best once I had been to London. As we rode down the Great North Road I counselled Peter. “London is a dangerous place. Do not confuse it with the capital of England; it is not. The people there serve London and self-interest.” I told him of the revolt. In the country he had witnessed unrest but my stories of theft from the Tower made him blanch.
“Then, Master William, why do we come here?”
“Because there will be more men at arms and archers seeking employment than almost anywhere else.” I thought about the men who had served as the King’s Guards. They would have been ideal but when we were dismissed we had all gone our own ways. They were good men but they could be serving anywhere. They all had skills and I did not doubt that they would have been employed quickly after our dismissal. It took three days to travel to London. I did not wish to thrash our horses and the time would allow Captain Tom to find my men.
London never failed to daunt me. It was so big and filled with so many people that I often thought it would burst. The King was not in the Tower. He was with his new bride at Windsor. I stayed away from the Tower. ‘The Blue Company’ was by the river. It was just two hundred paces from the bridge across the Thames. We had dismounted when we entered through the Newgate. Walking our horses was easier than riding through the throngs in the streets. We could keep them calmer and avoid having our heads struck by the signs which protruded into the streets. The inn had a stable. Leaving Peter outside with the horses I walked in.
I chose the wrong moment to enter. I saw one of the men who owned the inn, Tom. He lay on the ground. His head was bleeding. Another man, I could not see his face, also lay close by. I saw a pool of blood. John, the other owner, was in a crouched position and had a short sword in his hand. His left hand held a rondel dagger He was facing three men. They had leather jerkins and looked to be ex-soldiers. None saw me as I had just slipped into the room and stood in the shadows. This was like war and in war you did not rush in. You assessed the situation first. There were just five other people inside. Three of them looked to be women of the tavern and the other two were older customers.
One of the men whose back was to me spoke, “Now then, old man, we have tried to be fair about this. You know the way these things work. You pay us and we make sure that your customers don’t end up like that one there. Your mate was stupid. You might have been soldiers once but you aren’t any more. This will get ugly. The two of you might just slip into the river and be never heard of again. All we want is half of your profits.”
I slipped my ballock dagger from my belt. I was not wearing my arming sword. I had just brought my workaday short sword and it slid easily out of its scabbard. I moved from the darkness next to the door. John saw the movement and his eyes flickered to me. I shook my head slightly. John stood and lowered his weapons slightly. He shook his head, “How can we make a living if you are taking half of our profits?”
I took a step closer as the leader, the one in the centre, laughed and said, “I don’t give a cow’s titty how you make a living, my friend. That is not our business. Our business is the collection of coin.”
I put the edge of my sword under his ear, “Then my friend, you will know that the blade which is next to your ear is sharp and one push will end your life.” I heard the door open behind me and I prayed that it was Peter and not another of the cut throats.
The other two whipped around. I used my ballock dagger to slash across the sword hand of one of them. As John lunged at the other man the leader made the mistake of turning. I had not lied. My blade was sharp enough to shave with. It scored a line across his neck and then his throat. It was as though he was drowning in blood. I saw his hands go to his throat. His eyes widened and he gasped for air. He fell in a heap at my feet. It was a while since I had fought and my reactions were slow. The man whose hand I had slashed lunged at me with his dagger. Peter’s short sword hacked deep into his neck. The man who had been stabbed by John lay on the ground trying to hold in his intestines.
“Peter, watch the door!”
“Aye Master!”
John turned Tom over, “Angel, bandages!” One of the whores raced out to the back. “Well, Will Strongstaff, it seems that Tom and I are even more in your debt now and your fellow there.”
“How is Tom?”
Tom opened his eyes, “Better for seeing you. I thought we had done with killing when we came back from Aquitaine.”
I sheathed my weapons and went to the other man. As I turned him over I saw that he had but four fingers. When I saw his face, I saw that it was Harold Four Fingers. He had been one of my guards. I could not see a wound.
“What happened to Harold?”
“You know him?”
“He served under me when I was the King’s bodyguard.”
“When Cruel Jack, he is the one you killed, began to demand money your friend remonstrated with him. The one I slew,” he kicked the writhing body, “smacked him on the back of the head with a cudgel.”
I nodded, “What about the watch?”
“The men of the watch are useless. They would not dare to take on the gang. As for us?” John waved a hand at the handful of men in the tavern, “These are friends. They saw nothing. When it is dark we will weight their bodies and slip them into the river. It is one advantage of being so close to the river.”
“Who are they?”
“We have had gangs before who tried to make us pay protection. We dealt with them but these arrived about a month ago. I am not sure how many are in their gang but they have control of four ale houses by the Cripplegate.”
I bent down and picked up the leader’s sword. It was an arming sword. It was a soldier’s weapon. I checked his buskins. The leather boots showed no evidence that he had ever worn spurs. He was not a knight. I pulled down his jerkin and shirt. His neck was brown but his chest was white. He had come from hotter climes. Taking his purse, I emptied the coins. There were Castilian coins as well as French ones and one from Gascony. I saw that they all wore a cloak pin. It was a crudely cast skull.
“He could be from one of the Free Companies. If he has friends then you may be in danger.”
Just then Harold Four Fingers groaned. He rubbed the back of his head. His eyes were closed as he said, “I must be slipping! Taken like that.” Opening his eyes, he saw John. “Sorry friend, I thought I could talk them out of it.”
I said, quietly, “Men like that only understand one thing Harold, cold steel.”
His eyes widened, “Captain William! I never expected this.”
I helped him to his feet. “John, how about ale for us?”
“First, Will, we will put these in the back room. Angel clear up the blood.”
“Here I will help you.” Peter put his hands beneath the shoulders of one of them and dragged him away.
Harold and I sat at a table. Angel had finished bandaging Tom’s head and he sat with us. He poured ale from a jug. “What brings you here, Harold?”
“Work. I need an employer. I was working for a merchant. He dropped dead one day and his wife decided that it was my fault. I was thrown from the house and they owed me pay. That was a month since.”
“Well you are employed again.”
“The King?”
“No, scutage. We go to Castile for six months and at the end of that time I am sure I can find work for you.”
He raised his beaker, “Then my life is looking up!”
Once the floor was cleansed and night fell we disposed of the bodies. Their purses yielded coins which we shared. The weapons we took too. They had no horses and their clothes were too soiled to be of any use. After we had eaten I told them of my task. Harold gave me good news, “Captain, Wilfred of Loidis and Edgar of Derby are here in London. They have just finished working for Sir Richard Fitz William. They escorted his daughter to Southampton. They are also seeking employment. They are in the ‘Earl Marshal’ by the
Tower.”
“Then tomorrow we will seek them out.”
“Why not tonight, Captain?”
“Tonight, we will be on watch. These three will be missed. Their comrades will wonder why they have not returned. They will know where they went and I am guessing they will come after you have shut up for the night.” I saw them nodding. They were all soldiers and knew that the dark would suit attackers. “Do you know how many are in the gang, John?”
He shook his head, “I would guess less than ten. We have seen them walking around. I think they all wear that skull brooch you found. I have not seen many of them.”
“Then tonight we keep watch. There are four of us and…”
Tom said, “There are five of us William! This is my home too and I am not going to let some piece of filth take it from us. The wound is nothing.”
I nodded, “You have an upstairs?”
“Aye and a basement where we keep the ale.”
“Then have your whores wait upstairs. This will be bloody.”
In a well-run town or city, we would have been able to go to the mayor but John had told me that he was a corrupt man. His election had been fraudulent and he seemed to be trying to make as much coin as he could before King Richard turned his eye inwards. It did not help that Michael de la Pole was in charge of the finances of England. He was robbing all and so the mayor’s theft went unnoticed. Why worry about a smaller thief when the King’s Chancellor is stealing openly? It would be dangerous but if my old comrades in arms, John and Tom, were going to save their livelihood then the five of us would have to stop them.
Harold and I sat on either side of the front door. Tom sat next to the glow of the fire. Peter and John would hide at the side. Tom would be bait. They would see him when they entered through the door. We guessed that they would come soon after the last customer had left. Tom’s practice was to go out, bar the stables from the inside and then return to the tavern before, finally, barring the main door. John and Tom thought that the attack would come once they had given Tom enough time to return back into the tavern. They would open the door and see him drinking ale by the fire. With their attention on him they would enter. It would be up to John and I to deal with them once the last one had come through the door. We each had a dagger and a sword. I wore my mail as did John and Tom. Harold’s was at the ‘Earl Marshal’ and Peter did not have any yet. I felt guilty that I would have protection while they would not.
The watch had been set when Tom went outside to lock the stables. The stable boy who looked after the stables left each day at sunset. Tom was bandaged and he limped. Cruel Jack’s men would assume that their leader had been partly successful. As I took my place by the door I speculated about the events which would have followed the non-arrival of their leader. Someone would have taken charge. Cruel Jack would have taken hard men with him but someone would have been ready to take the reins. I had no doubt that one had been sent to spy out the tavern and, seeing that all appeared normal would have assumed that Cruel Jack’s efforts had been in vain. Perhaps they had an arrangement with the Mayor and discovered that the three men had not been apprehended by the watch. The uncertainty would give us a slight edge but I was under no illusions. These were hardened bandits and criminals. They would show no mercy.
Tom came back in through the door. He said, loudly, “John I am going to have a warm by the fire and finish off my ale.” To me he said, quietly, “They are outside.”
I said nothing. I had my sword and dagger on my lap. I put the sword on the table before me. My dagger would be an easier weapon to use at first. I caught sight of Harold on the other side of the door. The glow from the fire gave us enough light to see. Coming from the dark Cruel Jack’s men would need time for their eyes to adjust to the relative brightness of the tavern. I had the hood of my cloak up and my cloak covered all but my hands and dagger. I was hiding in plain sight. Red Ralph had taught me how to do this. I controlled my breathing and I listened.
I heard, from beyond the door, the sound of murmuring. I could not make out words nor how far the speakers were from the door but they were close. I caught the sound of the faintest jingle of metal. Daggers and swords slid silently from leather and wooden scabbards. Metal meant helmets or mail. I doubted that they would walk the streets of London with helmets. Someone was wearing mail. I smelled one of them before they entered. There was the hint of a perfumed aroma. Some French men affected such smells. They used oils infused with herbs to shape their beards. The door opened slowly. There was the slightest of creaks.
Tom played his part well. He had looked as though he was dozing. He raised his head and said, “Is that you, John?”
The would-be killers raced across the tavern. We had placed the tables to make obstacles. Two had passed me when I slid my leg out and two men fell to the floor. I stood. A fifth stood in the doorway. There was no one behind him and he turned to flee. I used my left hand to grab the coif about his neck and pull him back into the room. He hit the two men who were struggling to rise from the floor. I heard the clash of metal on metal as John, Tom and Peter dealt with the two who had first raced into the room. Harold brought his sword down on the back of one of the men trying to rise. I swung my boot and connected with the jaw of a second. The third drew his sword and swung it at me. As I had suspected a sword was not the best of weapons for a room with a low ceiling. The tip caught on the ceiling and my left hand was able to grab his wrist. I brought up my dagger. It came up under the short hauberk the man was wearing and tore up into his ribs. I must have struck something vital for he went limp in my hand and fell to the floor.
I switched hands with my dagger and grabbed my sword. The one I had kicked in the head was rising and I pricked my sword into the side of his neck, “You have to ask yourself the question, friend, can I manage to hurt this man whose sword is already cutting into my neck or should I surrender? Let us see just how clever you are. Drop your weapons and put your hands on top of your head!”
The man who had been struck by Harold lay on the ground. He was moaning. The other two were dead. Tom lit a candle and the room became brighter. “Anyone hurt?”
No one answered but the five of us were still standing. I gestured with my sword, “On your feet.” He rose and I saw that he was almost as tall as me and was muscular. My kick had broken his nose and he was missing teeth. His eyes glowered at me. “What do they call you?” He said nothing. “Let me explain something to you, my friend, your life and that of your companion here are in our hands. Cruel Jack is gone.” His eyes widened. “Ah, you did not know that. He and the other two are now feeding the river fish in the Thames. Three of your companions are going to join them. Two more will not bother us. With a hauberk like that you will sink to the bottom so I ask again, what is your name?” To emphasize my point, I put the dagger’s tip to his eye.
“Alan of Southwark.”
“And him?” I pointed to the man on the floor.
“Jacko.”
“Good. You may yet live although I have not made that decision. Which of you was chosen to be the leader when Cruel Jack did not return?” He pointed to the man who had first come through the door. I saw that he had a well-groomed beard. He was French. “The Frenchman?”
He looked surprised, “Yes, Philippe of Poitou.”
“And how many of your gang are left?” he hesitated. “And we were getting on so well.” I suddenly moved the dagger down to press into his groin. You can still talk without your manhood. As you can see we will have to clean the floor anyway.” The one who had been hit by Harold still groaned. “What is amiss with that one?”
Harold shrugged, “I fear my blow did not break flesh Captain. It did break bones.”
“So he may die too.” Harold nodded. “Perhaps it will not be worth our while to keep you alive. Tom, strip the mail and weapons from the Frenchman and his companions. It is dark and they can join Cruel Jack. This one will join them soon enough.”
“No, no, let me live and I will tell yo
u all.”
“Carry on Tom. So, you were saying?”
“There are six left. They are in the inn called ‘The Saddle’. It is between the Cheap and Cripplegate.”
I surmised that they would be the weaker members of the gang. I nodded. “Take off your mail, your sword belt and your buskins.”
I removed the dagger and stood back. He took off his belt. The scabbard was decorated but it had seen hard wear. This man had been a soldier. The hauberk was an old one and I saw that some of the links had been damaged. This man had fallen on hard times. Perhaps that was why he had fallen in with Cruel Jack. His buskins, however, were well made. I pointed to a chair, “Sit there. Peter bind his hands and feet to the chair.”
Harold had rolled over the injured man. He looked up in terror at Harold, “I cannot feel my feet! Where are my legs?”
Harold said, gently, “I fear that my blow has injured something in your back. Can you move your arms?” The man called Jacko raised them. Harold nodded, “Then you can live. So long as you can use your hands then you can make a living.”
“Doing what?”
“I know not but you will no longer prey on others that is for certain and you will need the help of another.” Harold looked at me. “I know that if I was in such a situation then I have friends who would watch over me as I would watch over them. You choose your friends carefully in this life.”
The watch had been set and there was no point in leaving while it was dark. “All of you, get some sleep. I will take the first watch. Peter will relieve me.” The man who could not walk began to weep. “Stop that! You are a man. If you wish a warrior’s death then ask now and I will give it to you. Otherwise reflect upon your sins and how you can change your life!” He became silent.