To Murder a King

by Griff Hosker

  As we rode Peter said, “What you need, Captain, is a smith. You have horses which need shoeing, ploughs which ought to be repaired or replaced and then, of course, the mail and weapons he can make.”

  He was right of course. The village had been a busy one before the plague and it had had a mill and a smith. We had repaired the mill and used it to grind our barley, oats and wheat but we really needed a miller. However, the fire in the forge had not been lit for many years. The roof had crumbled and we had no one with the skill to make and to shape iron. The plague had made such skilled men even more valuable and it was hard to find one. Most served rich lords like Henry Bolingbroke.

  We arrived at dusk. While his grandmother fussed over him I spoke with Sir Robert. “I believe that I have done all that I can for your grandson. He still wishes to spend time with me and I find that flattering but he needs to begin to stand on his own two feet.”

  “I know but I have been delaying.”

  “He is old enough and if he is to inherit this manor he will need to learn how to do so as his own master.”

  “I have a small manor, it is a mile from here. Shottery would suit my grandson for there are just a few houses in the village and six tenant farmers. It would need a hall but that would be no obstacle.”

  I nodded, “And you would have to ask the Earl of Northampton for permission to dub him. I do not think that would be a problem as your grandson has done the Earl no small service.”

  The knight still looked unhappy, “I would not wish my grandson to go to war without you close by.”

  “If he is knighted then I will be beneath him in rank. It would make life difficult. But it is not a problem at the moment. The King did not get the funds for his war in France and the Earl of Northampton is preoccupied with his new son. We have six months before that situation might arise.”

  I was feted by both the doting grandparents. Since I had first met with Henry he had changed. Physically he looked like a man now rather than the gangly youth I had first encountered. However, he had also matured. He had been around men at arms and archers. He had bantered with them. He had learned their curses and their language. He had killed a man. He had fought for his life. He had entertained a Queen and her ladies. The man I left with them had been made in the time he had spent with me.

  John and I were up early and at the market to buy that which we needed. We headed along the road before most people had arrived at the market. As we rode back to my home the attacks upon us and the danger of Sir Hugo made us ride as though we expected an ambush. John son of Jack might have lacked experience but the ride from Monmouth and the combat in Windsor had made him realise that serving William Strongstaff would not be an easy task. We rode quickly and reached home before dark. As the door was closed I felt relief. I would not need to stir again until well into the New Year.

  It was a joyous Christmas. The snowstorm which came on Christmas Eve lasted a full seven days and the land was coated in a blanket of white. It mattered not. We had laid in great quantities of food. The puddings and the cakes my wife and her women had made would last for a month and the animals we had hunted would feed us into January. We were lucky for our campaign in Galicia had allowed us to bring back treasures from that land. The spices and oils we had brought back were only found in the halls of great lords. We had jugs with preserved fruits such as lemons and oranges. Used sparingly they made even the most mundane of Monday cakes taste special. I knew that we were lucky. None in my village would suffer but there would be others who would.

  My son and daughter enjoyed their father being around. Tom enjoyed the presence of the archers and John son of Jack. If Henry had been changed by his time with me then it was doubly so for John. He had been right. He would never be a farmer. He was a natural warrior. He reminded me of me. He did not have the finesse of a lord but like me he knew how to win a fight. My archers were all skilled with a sword but by the time Henry returned, in February, John could defeat all of them. He could not come close to beating me but I knew that I had special skills. When I defeated Sir Hugo I realised just how good I was.

  We were outside for although the air was cold it was a bright day. I believed that cold fresh air was beneficial and stopped illnesses. The plague still swept the land and I was sure that it was visited upon those who spent their lives indoors. We turned to look when Henry and Peter rode up. His arrival had not been expected. They reined in.

  “You wish to continue your training?” He nodded. “And your knighthood?”

  “The Earl sent a letter to my grandfather. The King is still on his gyration and the Earl intends to knight and give spurs to all the squires from his lands at the same time. It will be when the King returns to London.” I nodded. “I thought that I might use my time usefully. Shottery will be my manor but only when I am wed.”

  That was news indeed. Henry Bolingbroke was a clever man. A mass dubbing would make a statement to friends and foes alike. It would tell them that the Earl was a force to be reckoned with. He would soon be twenty-one. His father was still in Castile and showed no sign of returning. He had lands in England and those knights not serving in Castile could be called upon by his son. I had put the Earl’s words about my knighthood behind me. Perhaps I would be dubbed then, too. I had not mentioned it to Eleanor. I knew she would be excited. I did not wish to disappoint her.

  When Henry rejoined us it seemed to spur us all on to improve our skills. The King had said he would be away until the summer. I was in a unique position. I knew that the King resented the men who had tied his hands, the Lords Appellant. I also knew that he was building an army in the west under the guiding hands of the Constable of Chester and the Earl of Oxford. The King’s gyration was to gather support so that he could make war on his uncle and his enemies. When civil war came we would be involved and yet I knew not which side I would be on. If the Lords Appellant or Henry Bolingbroke attacked the King then I would offer my sword to the King. If, on the other hand, it was Molineux and de Vere who attacked the Lords then I would fight them. This would not be a war where I could sit in the middle.

  March brought us both news and help from an unexpected source. My wife was with child. She said it was a Christmas gift from God! To celebrate my men and I went hunting. It was good training for both John and Henry. In addition, it culled the animals. The older stags could be taken and the older females too. Stephen the Tracker had found the herd and the next day we left to hunt.

  We hunted on foot. My archers had their bows while the four of us had spears. It was a challenge to get close enough to the deer to make a kill with a spear but if we failed then Stephen and his archers would complete the work. The four of us acted in unison and trailed the herd. We headed down the stream with the smell of the herd blowing toward us. Our archers lay almost a mile downstream. We each had three spears. They were not the ones we used for wild boar. These were for throwing. Narrow headed, they had a barb close to the bottom of the head. Peter had complained that if we had hounds our task would be easier. He was probably right but I had little experience with dogs nor had my archers.

  When the smell of the deer grew really strong I held up my hand and we stopped. Sure enough after a few moments there was movement as the herd moved upstream. I daresay the stag had smelled my archers. They were a distance away but a stag would be cautious. There were many young with the herd. This was a big herd. The young would be safe. None of us would take an animal which would grow into a better meal over the next few years. I raised my hand and we moved slowly. I had hunted more than the others and they were behind me.

  I spied, as the herd came towards me, an old hind. She was less than thirty feet from me and drawing closer. She was favouring one of her legs. She would be an easy target for one of the others. There was also an old stag. Although rare for there to be two stags with a herd it did happen and I saw that this one had had his left antler broken some time ago. He was moving close to the old hind. Perhaps the dominant stag allowed these two older ones
to stay with the herd. I saw one of the immature males raise his nose and sniff the air. It was time. I pulled back my arm and, as the young male snorted an alarm, I hurled at the older stag. My spear caught him just behind his neck. He turned and bolted. Peter and John threw their spears at the hind. Henry threw his at the immature male. He missed completely for the male had already turned to run away from the danger. I threw a second at the stag and hit him in the rump. The herd was gone. They would thunder down the stream to my waiting archers. Our work was done.

  “Come let us finish these two.” I turned to Henry. “Why did you disobey me? You went for a young, healthy male!”

  He hung his head, “I am sorry Captain but the older pair reminded me of my grandparents.”

  Peter laughed, “As good a reason as any for sparing them, Master.”

  The old female had two spears in her and she had stumbled just forty paces into the forest. She was still alive when we reached her and Peter ended her suffering. “You two gut her and John and I will follow this blood trail.”

  The old stag was tough. He was bleeding to death and the blackening blood was easy to follow. I saw him. He stood panting close to a large oak. I handed my spear to John and drew my sword. The animal snorted and blood came from his nose. He was dying. I spoke as I approached, “You have had a good life and your young are evidence of your being. Your seed will fill this land. Now I will send you to a better place old man.” The animal tried to raise its head and that allowed me to bring my sword in a long sweep up into its neck. It died instantly and fell in a heap. The animal would not have survived another winter. Perhaps the hind had been its mate. I liked to believe that the two would be reunited somewhere. My father would have laughed at such nonsense, “When you are dead you are dead! This life is all we have!” I now had children and I did not want to believe that.

  I cleaned my sword on some grass and sheathed it. I had a gutting knife in my belt and John and I began to cut open the belly. I heard a noise in the woods. It was close. It was not one of my men. John had not heard it. I drew my sword and pointed to the left. John was a clever young man and he nodded and drew his own sword. He moved to my left. I smelled humans. I heard a sob. I moved a little more and heard some leaves rustle.

  “Whoever you are show yourselves!”

  A female cried and then I heard a man, “Do not harm us lord, we mean no harm!”

  “I am not a lord! Show yourselves.”

  Ten feet from me a man rose. He was broad and looked to have seen perhaps twenty summers. He had no sword but held a long-handled hammer in his hand.

  “Drop the weapon, friend. There are two of us. If you mean us no harm then you are safe. I am William Strongstaff and I do not lie.” The hammer dropped. “Who is with you?”

  “My wife, sir.”

  “Then have her rise.” Slowly a young woman, perhaps seventeen summers old, rose. I could see that she was weeping. Behind us I heard the noise of Peter and Henry approaching. I held up my hand. “Hold.” I gestured to the couple, “Come closer that I may speak with you.” As they did I said, “John, fetch the hammer and whatever else they have.”

  The young woman was shaking and looked terrified. The man had his arm protectively around her. As they made their way through the undergrowth John picked up the hammer and a small bundle of clothes.

  “What is your tale?”

  The man, now that I saw him close up, was bigger than I was. He was a powerful man. He looked belligerently at me. “We have done nothing wrong, sir. Why do you question us? Is this your wood?”

  “Speak softly friend. This is my land and I would know what you do upon it.”

  Just then the woman who looked pale, swooned. Had she not been held by the man she would have fallen to the ground. “Henry and Peter, fetch the horses. What is wrong with your woman?”

  “She is my wife and we have not eaten well.” He hesitated. “She is with child.”

  “John, your ale skin.” I sheathed my sword and took the skin. I took out the stopper and held it to her mouth. I allowed some to dribble in. When I deemed she had had enough I replaced the stopper and took off my cloak. “Here wrap it around her and then tell me your names. I will try to be of help but I must know who you are.”

  He wrapped the cloak around her and held her tightly. “I am Edgar of… I am Edgar the Smith and this is my wife, Edith. We have been wed for three moons. It is a week since we had a decent meal and we last drank yesterday.”

  “And why are you in the woods?”

  “The green wood is the only place we can afford to live, sir.” The woman, Edith, opened her eyes. They widened in terror when she saw me above her. “He will not hurt us, Edith.”

  I heard the sound of horses as Peter and Henry brought our mounts, “Stephen the Tracker has finished hunting, Captain. They are bringing the carcasses to us.”

  “Edgar the Smith, put your wife on the horse. We will take you to my home. It is our Christian duty to help those who are in distress.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  I turned and looked him in the eye, “But know this I will discover your story. You are hiding something from me. If you are to be helped then we will know all.”

  The man was strong and he lifted her on to Jack’s saddle as though she was a feather. Edgar led my mount and I followed. When we reached the archers, I saw the questions in their eyes. “We had a good hunt then, Stephen?”

  “Aye, Captain. We have collected the offal too. Do we give it to the poor of the village?”

  “We can. The winter has not been as harsh as some but it was bad enough.”

  The woman kept her hand on her husband’s head. I could not fathom their story. From their accents they were not local. There was a hint of Welsh in their words but Wales was a good seven days travel to the west. I looked at her feet. She wore wooden clogs, galoshes. These were poor people and yet, when I looked at the clothes they wore, although dirty and showing wear, they had been well made at one time. Smiths were highly paid. What would make one leave his home and drag his wife across the heart of England in the middle of winter?

  We had some of the children of the servants collecting the wood which had been torn from the trees during the last storm and when they saw us they ran to my hall to warn my wife of our return. All knew that we hunted and that meant a bounty for everyone. We would all eat well and when the meat had been taken the bones would be used for stews. Then we would use the rest. The antlers and bone could be carved. The hides would be tanned. The hooves rendered down for glue and sealant. We wasted nothing. Lol took the offal into the village. There were one or two poorer families there. They rarely went hungry for my wife sent food to them whenever she could but the offal from the hunt would be like treasure to them. Deer heart, kidneys and liver would sustain even the weakest of folk.

  My son ran to us. He had been keen to join the hunt but he was still too young. Next year I would let him hold the horses. “You have done well, father!” He looked up at Edgar the Smith, “You have animals for us to eat and guests to share our food!”

  My wife stood in the doorway. The child within her was barely showing. I guessed that Edith was at a similar stage. We stopped and I pointed to the pair, “We have guests, wife. This is Edgar the Smith and his wife, Edith. She, too, is with child. They have been living rough in the woods and eaten little.”

  My wife’s face clouded over, “Then what are you doing keeping them out in the cold! Come my dear. Men! They have not the first idea of being a mother. This must be your first.”

  Edgar helped her down and my wife took her hand, “Why your hand is like a piece of ice. Nanna, put the poker in the fire to heat it and a ladle of honey in a jug of ale. We need to warm this little one through.” She turned to Edgar. He towered over her but she cared not, “And what kind of a half-wit has his wife living as outlaws in the forest in winter! Fool!”

  It was her words which told me that I was the fool. Edgar had done something terrible and had to flee. Not
hing else would induce a man to have his pregnant wife travel through England in winter. That reassured me. I had feared he was one of Sir Hugo’s men. Having a wife as a disguise was the sort of thing lords like Sir Hugo encouraged.

  We went to the room we used for dining. A fire was blazing away. I tossed another log upon it. Nanna had disappeared with Edith and my wife. Alice had tagged along with her mother. “John, fetch another jug of ale and the honey.” I turned the poker in the fire. It was becoming hot enough. “Peter, beakers. My wife has a vicious tongue sometimes but it is a good suggestion.” John and Peter disappeared. Edgar was a big man but I saw that the journey had weakened him too. “And you had better sit before you fall!”

  My wife had beehives and our honey was of the best quality. Some might think it a waste to put so much in the ale and then plunge a hot poker into it but for us it was a treat. The poker hissed and I swirled it around. I poured the hot ale into the beakers. I watched as Edgar the Smith drank deeply and then smiled as the sweet, steaming liquid slipped down his throat. “Thank you, sir! That is almost as good as a meal.”

  I filled up his beaker and he drank again. A replete smile of joy went from ear to ear. “Tonight, you will eat well. I can see that you need a good feast. It is a long way from Wales.”

  “Aye sir and winter is still biting.”

  “You have done well to make it thus far. Your wife must be hardier than she looks for I know of strong men who might have faltered.”

  “Aye sir.”

  “Especially with men pursuing you. Was it hard to remain hidden?”

  “It was sir…” He suddenly seemed to realise that he had allowed his loose tongue to reveal almost all. He put the beaker to one side as though that had been the cause of his undoing.

  I leaned back and spread my arms, “You fled Wales. You left your forge and brought a pregnant woman across England in the heart of winter. It does not take a learned man to piece together the solution to this puzzle. You are an outlaw. I know not what crime you have committed but your wife is being cared for and I would appreciate honesty from you.”