The Bastard's Crown

by H A CULLEY

  Their ship was in the vanguard behind the duke’s flagship, the Maria, which displayed a lantern at the top of its mast for the fleet to follow but is was faster than many of the others and the fleet soon spread out behind her as darkness fell.

  ‘Do you think we’ll face opposition when we land?’ Roland wanted to know.

  Hugo shrugged. ‘Hopefully King Harold is occupied with the Norwegians in Northumbria but, even so, he has probably left the fyrd to watch the south coast so we may have to fight to get ashore. I don’t think we can get the horses unloaded under fire very easily so we will probably have to fight on foot.’

  However, the first problem was the dispersed fleet. When dawn broke Hugo could just make out the Maria hove to on the horizon but there were only three other transports in sight. They closed on the flagship until they were within hailing distance.

  ‘Who are you and where the hell are the rest.’ Duke William bellowed across at them.

  ‘Hugo de Cuille, my lord. We are the four conrois of Roger de Montgomery’s contingent. There is no sign of the rest as yet.’

  The duke swore profanely and at length.

  ‘My lord, I can see several other ships coming over the horizon now.’ A lookout called with some relief.

  Two hours later all the laggards had caught up but two. Hugo later heard that they had got lost and had hit the English coast near Sandwich. They had been surrounded by the local fyrd and had been wiped out.

  Around ten o’clock the fleet entered Pevensey Bay but waited for the tide to turn before landing. Hugo was relieved so see no sign of the enemy as they ran their boats up onto the beach. The men at arms and the archers established a perimeter defence whilst the horses were unloaded. As Hugo’s ship had hit the beach next to the Maria the duke beckoned him over.

  ‘Hugo isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. You knighted me at Mont St. Michel.’ Hugo thought that reminding the duke could do him no harm.

  ‘Did I now; yes, well. I want you to take your conroi five miles inland and scour the area to find out if there are any armed men approaching.’ He turned to two more knights and told them to do the same thing along the coast to the east and west.

  As this was a scouting mission Hugo decided that his men should only wear their swords and leave their heavy armour with their squires. So the conroi set off with the twenty five knights in the lead and their squires leading the packhorses following on. It was a nice day for autumn, slightly cloudy at times but with sunny periods and a light breeze. The leaves had started to turn brown and a few had fallen so that they rustled occasionally under the horses hooves. The land was well cultivated with villages dotted all over the landscape. The inhabitants must have had warning as they were all deserted. Not having seen any sign of armed men after searching the area for three hours, Hugo headed back to Pevensey. Suddenly a hail of stones pelted the column. The knights drew their swords and charged into the undergrowth bordering the track to see a dozen small boys running like mad across the open fields. Several knights went to charge after them with the obvious intention of cutting them down but Hugo’s command to halt held them in check. Sending Tristan and another knight to capture one of the boys and bring him back he rounded on the rest.

  ‘They are only little boys, they can’t be older than ten. Would you really have wanted their deaths on your conscience? In any case such an attack could lure you into a trap. Try and remember what I have taught you. We are a disciplined body of men and you react to orders, not act impetuously.’ His glare softened ‘but I am pleased that you halted when commanded to. That was good.’

  Tristan and the other knight returned; each had a Saxon boy draped across the horse’s neck in front of him. Hugo and the two knights dismounted and then lifted the two boys down, holding them firmly by the arms. Hugo drew his dagger and played with it, watching the boys’ eyes widen in fear. He saw a pool of urine gather at the feet of one of the boys so he started with him.

  ‘Have you seen any groups of armed men recently?’ He stared at the boy with unwavering eyes.

  For a moment the two boys showed surprise that he spoke to them in English.

  ‘Don’t answer him.’ The elder boy said before the knight holding him clamped his gauntleted hand over his mouth. The boy tried to bite the hand but the knight just laughed as the teeth made little impression on the thick leather. So he kicked out hard at Hugo’s shins with a foot encased in a crude leather shoe. Hugo’s boots had metal plates inserted inside them to turn away sword blows so the boy yowled in pain as he broke two toes on the metal. After that he just stood there sobbing in pain and humiliation. Hugo turned back to the other boy who was now terrified. He almost gabbled what he knew in his haste to cooperate.

  ‘I heard the men of the village talking. There are garrisons at Dover and Romney but the rest were withdrawn when the king went north to do battle with the Norsemen. I don’t think there are any others round here.’ The boy was panting by the time he had finished.

  ‘Thank you. What’s your name?’

  ‘I’m Sweyn and he’s called Erwig.’ Erwig stared at his erstwhile friend with hatred.

  ‘Bring Sweyn but let the other boy go.’

  The patrol set off again, leaving Erwig to limp away with his broken toes.

  As Hugo caught sight of Pevensey again he could hardly believe the transformation. The old empty Roman town was now filled with tents and bustled with activity. Gaps in the fortifications had been plugged with lengths of palisade and the walls had been extended to protect the docks where over twenty of the transports were being docked for unloading at a time. On a hillock men were erecting one of the prefabricated wooden castles and at least a thousand horses grazed in an enclosed pasture.

  The duke was delighted with the news and congratulated Hugo on the success of his patrol. The others hadn’t found any trace of an English force either. He questioned the frightened and rather smelly Saxon boy himself but Sweyn knew no more than he had told Hugo.

  ‘What are you going to do with him.’ Roland asked once Hugo had located his conroi in the vast encampment.

  ‘Good question. If I let him go his village will know that he has turned traitor because Erwig will have told them, so he can’t go home. I think I’m going to have to keep him as a servant. But he stinks, and not just of urine. Take him down to the beach and give him and his clothes a good wash.’

  Twenty minutes later Ralph and Roland stripped down to their braies and carried a protesting naked Sweyn into the sea to give him a thorough scrubbing before sitting him down so that Roland could cut his long fair hair. A washerwoman brought back his clothes scrubbed clean but still wet so the miserable boy had to sit bare and humiliated whilst they dried in front of a camp fire. Once he was dressed again and fed Roland explained that he was to be Sir Hugo’s body servant. Now that Roland was nineteen Hugo felt that it would be appropriate if Sweyn took over this side of his responsibilities.

  He learned that Sweyn was ten and the son of a poor churl. Churls were the highest class of commoner but they varied from relatively wealthy farmers and merchants down to those who owned too little land to provide for themselves and their families. The latter could end up selling themselves into bondage to a thane or noble and so dropping down to the bottom of the social scale. It was also possible for the wealthier churl to become a thane, the lowest class of noble, by accumulating enough land by purchase and prudent marriage. Sweyn’s father fell into the category of poor churl and the boy was candid enough to admit that his family would probably be glad not to have to feed him anymore.

  The next morning Duke William sent for Hugo. He was surprised to see Roger de Montgomery there as well. He had been talking to the duke together with a man he didn’t know.

  ‘Ah, Hugo. You did such a good job yesterday I want you to go out on patrol again today. Roger de Montgomery and William FitzOsbern will come with you. They tell me that Hastings will provide us with a much better base. It lies on a peninsular, the neck of wh
ich is only six miles across and therefore easily defended from attack on land. I am told that it can also provide a base for part of the fleet but I need to be certain of all this before I commit to moving there.’ He nodded his dismissal.

  As Hugo followed the other two men out of the tent Roger turned to him. ‘You seem to have made a good impression on the duke. Well done. It reflects well on me too, of course, as you are my man.’

  Hugo decided to take Sweyn with him as he had told Roland that he had been to Hastings a few times before when his father had travelled there for the market. The boy couldn’t ride so he had to sit in front of Roland as before; this time though Roland didn’t have to wrinkle his nose. Roger de Montgomery led with FitzOsbern and Hugo by his side followed by his banner bearer and Roland with Sweyn as the guide. Guy Melville, Lord Roger’s marshal, rode further back, having declined to ride beside a lowly squire and a diminutive Saxon.

  Hastings was all that it was rumoured to be and Hugo was sent back with Tristan, the two squires and Sweyn to inform the duke. Hugo had asked to take a larger escort but Guy Melville told him that Lord Roger had decided that he needed them here for his own defence whilst he planned the deployment of the new camp on the peninsula with FitzOsbern. Hugo had an uneasy feeling about the return journey and so he and Tristan donned their hauberks and helmets and Roland rode with a loaded crossbow , leaving Sweyn to ride with Ralph.

  As they approached a village which had been deserted on the way out they saw movement between the houses. Hugo’s group halted and Tristan readied his bow, which he always carried in addition to weapons more befitting a knight. A group of Saxons some ten strong emerged blocking their path. The ground to both sides of the track was heavily wooded at this point so there was no escape that way in horseback. Then another group emerged on the track behind them and two more came out of the trees on either side. They were trapped. Hugo cursed Roger de Montgomery for sending him back through hostile country with so few men.

  ~#~

  Sir Guillaume and the abbot of Bonport had returned from Rome in June bringing Duke William both the Pope’s blessing and the papal banner. Now that he was no longer a member of Viscount Peverel’s mesnie the duke had made Guillaume commander of a conroi in his own household. His ship had been unloaded earlier that afternoon and, once his had established his camp, he went in search of William.

  The duke was in good humour. Things were going better than he could have hoped and Hastings sounded like the perfect base for operations. The one thought that niggled at the back of his mind was that he should perhaps have sent more troops to Hastings with de Montgomery.

  ‘Ah Guillaume. Come in. I have a task for you.’ He offered him a goblet of wine and a seat.

  ‘You know that friend of yours, de Cuille?’ Guillaume nodded wondering what this was about. ‘Well I sent him off with his conroi to escort Roger de Montgomery to see whether Hastings would be a suitable base for us to move to. Knowing Roger he will have started to plan the layout straight away and I am a little concerned that there aren’t enough men to guard him and to bring word back to me. Go and see him would you, and come back and report to me what he says?’

  Guillaume and his men set out about half an hour later. It was normally a three hour ride to Hastings at a walking pace and, as there was only about four hours left until dark, Guillaume set out at a brisk canter. An hour later they came across a village outside of which four groups of Saxons had surrounded a small group of Normans. Two of the Saxons lay dead and the rest had started to rush the mounted Normans. One more fell and then the mounted Normans were beset by the horde of Saxons. Recovering from his surprise Guillaume yelled ‘charge’ and dug his spurs into his courser so that it leapt towards the fight.

  Hearing the pounding hooves the villagers immediately in front of the charging conroi turned round in alarm and started to flee towards the trees. They never got there. The mounted Normans cut them down as they fled. The others tried to break away from the fight as Tristan brought down two more. Roland was still reloading the cumbersome crossbow when Guillaume rode up.

  ‘Hugo, what are you doing here? Duke William said you were in Hastings.’

  ‘Good to see you too Guillaume. Roger de Montgomery sent me back to report.’ Hugo told him a trifle bitterly. ‘I did ask him for more men but he evidently thought that four Normans would be a match for thirty Saxons.’

  By now Guillaume’s conroi had killed all those making for the village and turned towards those in the woods, but they wisely decided not to try and pursue them as they saw the Saxons disappearing into the thick undergrowth. Then Guillaume noticed Sweyn, who Roland had hoisted back onto his horse. The boy was weeping.

  ‘Where did you get him from? He looks like a Saxon, apart from the haircut.’

  ‘We captured him yesterday. He has been very helpful with information and as a guide. His name is Sweyn. He is now my body servant but I don’t expect he enjoyed seeing his fellow Saxons killed.’

  Guillaume looked at the boy, who had now stopped crying and was glaring at him defiantly. The knight laughed. ‘Feisty isn’t he?’

  ‘Not nearly as feisty as the other one we captured.’ Sweyn then said something in English.

  ‘What did he say?’ One of the other knights asked.

  It was Hugo’s turn to laugh. ‘You don’t want to know.’

  The conroi slowly drifted in with bloodied swords. Three had minor wounds which their squires bound up whilst one of them muttered something in Guillaume’s ear. His eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘It would seem that your Saxon ambushers may not have been quite what they seemed.’ He told Hugo and Tristan. ‘As they were being cut down they cried out for mercy in Norman French. I don’t expect there are many Saxon peasants who can speak our language so I suspect that someone wants you dead.’

  Hugo and Tristan discussed this disturbing piece of news as the column set off back to Pevensey after burning the empty village.

  ‘Do you think it was Rollo?’ Tristan asked softly so as not to be overheard.

  Hugo shook his head. ‘No, it had to be de Montgomery. Though why he should want either of us dead is beyond me.’

  ‘Perhaps his son asked a favour of him? He certainly wants revenge for your defeat of the Belleme conroi at the tourney.’

  ‘Perhaps. I shall certainly ask Lord Roger when I next have the opportunity.’

  ‘Tread carefully, Hugo. He is a powerful man.’

  The next day William left five hundred of the oldest men, the sick and the wounded to garrison the castle at Pevensey ; then the move to Hastings began. Shortly after William’s arrival there a messenger from one of the Normans living in London arrived with news of Harold’s victory at Stamford Bridge.

  ‘My lords we must force Harold into battle whilst he is still weak from his losses at Stamford Bridge and before he can muster his strength from all over England.’ The duke told his senior commanders.

  ‘And how will we do that?’ One wanted to know.

  William bridled at the confrontational tone but answered civilly. ‘Why by hitting him where it hurts: in both his pocket and his pride. Tomorrow we will send out patrols to harry and burn far and wide. This area is not only part of England but it is part of Harold’s own earldom of Wessex. Let them rape and pillage to their heart’s content.’

  ~#~

  Oswin was exhausted, like most of the mounted element of Harold’s army, when he arrived in London on the sixth of October. The flesh wound in his arm had started to mend but it was still painful and he only had limited use of it. News of the harrying of Sussex had already reached the king and he was anxious to move south at once. The problem was his foot and his archers were still many days behind him and no muster of either the thanes and their housecarls or of the fyrd from the southern counties had been called in his absence. The horses were also blown after the rapid march north and then south again. Unlike the Normans, each thane and housecarl only had one horse as they normally fought on foot. />
  ‘We must muster such troops as we can from London, Essex, Kent, Middlesex, Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire and Surrey and march south to confront the Bastard and his band of rapists and pillagers.’ Harold was distraught at the reports he had received of the Normans’ rampage through his lands.

  ‘Harold, you would do better to wait until you can add the strength of Dorset, Hampshire, Mercia and Northumbria to your army. Then we can be certain of victory and sweep this scum from the land.’ Earl Loefwine was offering sage advice to his brother but Harold shook his head.

  ‘And how long will that take? Meanwhile more and more of my people are slaughtered and their homes burned whilst their lord looks on helpless. No, it won’t serve. Besides the longer we tarry here the more time there is for reinforcements to reach William.’

  ‘Well, if you are determined on this folly, then at least let me command the army so that, if I lose, you remain alive to muster the rest of England to defeat these Normans.’ This came from Earl Gyrth, another brother.

  ‘Do you honestly think that I would skulk here whilst you fight my battles for me? You know me better than that, brother.’ Harold looked his brothers in the eye in turn. ‘No, we march on the twelfth with whatever strength we have managed to muster by then. We beat Harald Hadrada and slew him and we will treat William the Bastard and any other invaders in the same way.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Nevertheless you had better tell the Dorset fyrd and those from further away to make for a rendezvous at Caldbec Hill, north of Hastings.’

  Because of his wound Oswin was sent to the ealdorman of Dorset with instructions to make sure he and his men reached the rendezvous point by the evening of the thirteenth of October, which was when Harold expected to arrive with his main force. He clasped his brother’s forearm in his and told him to look out for himself, but he left Wulfric with a heavy heart; his brother was only eighteen and he hated the thought of him going into battle without being at his side. He told Cenric to take care of him, then mounted a fresh horse and set off for Dorchester.