by Griff Hosker
Gaston thought it foolish. “There will be a skirmish or a battle. Edward is young and inexperienced. He will lose. Just be patient.”
“Thank you for your advice, but we have had a long journey from England. I am losing my touch!”
It was lonely riding the river road but our journey was almost at an end. When we reached the bridge I saw that it was a rickety, wooden affair. We dared not risk riding our horses across it. I walked mine across first. If it held me then it would easily hold Roger. I was relieved when we reached the other side. I saw a huge forest stretching before us. We had been told that the castle of Sir John Woodville lay twenty miles on the other side of the forest at Saint Justin. We decided to camp at the edge of the forest and ride through in daylight. It did not do to chance an unknown forest in a strange land at night.
We risked a fire. We had bought food, and a warm fire would make our camp seem more comfortable and less lonely. When we had eaten and we had rolled in our cloaks, we talked. This was the first time since Hull that we had been able to do so. We had become firm friends. We could ride for hours without speaking and not feel uncomfortable. Now we both wanted to speak.
“This time tomorrow we may have a lord to serve.”
I nodded. “I still have a worry, my friend. What if they have heard of me? It has been weeks since I slew Sir Henry. Word may have travelled here.”
“How would they know it was you? You are an archer. You do not have a Welsh accent. Your name is not an uncommon one. Men will be seeking Gruffyd who was an archer on the Welsh border. They will not be looking for Gerald War Bow who served Dickon of Doncaster.”
“I am certain he knew my story. He kept giving me strange looks.”
“Perhaps he did, but thanks to him, others now accept you as an archer seeking his fortune and not a murderer.”
“Listen, Roger, if I am recognised then disown me. Tell them you knew nothing of my story. I would not have you suffer for my foolishness.”
“We are friends and I will not desert you.” He stretched. “I tell you one thing. The forests of Gascony are warmer and more welcoming than Delamere. A man could easily live in the forests here.”
“Aye, it is pleasant. It does not smell like an English forest. The birds are different too. I have seen birds I thought I knew, but they have different calls here. I have much to learn.”
We slept well, until our horses woke us as they grazed close to our heads. After finishing off the food, we mounted and headed into the forest. We did not follow the main trail. It was wide and almost like a road. We took the hunters’ trails. I felt safer doing so. Roger just followed my lead. He deferred to me on many things. Using the small hunters’ trails meant we made less noise than on the hard-packed earth.
I heard the sound of metal on metal in the distance. I strung my bow and took out three bodkin arrows. I slipped my cloak over my horse’s neck, nodded to Roger and dug my heels into my horse’s sides. I headed towards the fight. Perhaps this was Sir John Woodville. We might have a chance to aid him and win a place in his household. I did not gallop. The sound of drumming hooves would attract attention. I saw a flash of colour ahead. I stopped my horse. I could not fight mounted, but Roger could.
Tying my horse to a tree, I began to make my way through the undergrowth to reach the fight. Roger would follow my lead. I was looking for a sign which would tell me that this was Sir John Woodville. I had been told he had a wild boar as his standard. I heard Roger draw both of his swords. I concentrated on my own approach, using the trees to move closer. I could hear steel on steel and the cries of men as they were struck. I heard the neighs and whinnies of horses. I saw a surcoat. It was yellow with two horned cows. I had been told that was the symbol of Gaston of Béarn. I had identified one side. I saw that there were others dressed as he was. This was a mounted battle, and I saw that the men of Béarn were winning. These had to be my enemies, and so I approached to within thirty paces and knelt. I sent an arrow at the nearest man. It struck him so hard that it came out of his chest. His companion looked around and my arrow struck him in the chest and threw him from his horse.
They knew there was an archer present and eight of the men at arms turned. I saw that there were at least seven others who were fighting. Just then, I heard a cheer and the sound of galloping hooves. It was Roger coming to my aid. It was brave, but it was foolish. I had not identified the men who were being attacked. I sent another arrow at the warrior in the centre. Roger would distract the two nearest him. I took my fourth arrow and the man at arms held his shield up. It saved his life, but the arrow struck so hard that he fell from his saddle. There were still three men racing towards me. I did not panic. I drew and sent an arrow through the ventail into the neck of another man at arms. The two to my left were fewer than ten paces from me. I heard the sound of Roger fighting his foes. I could not allow myself to be distracted. I would be able to release one more arrow only. I did not manage a full draw, but my arrow still hit the thigh of the nearest man at arms. I dropped my bow and, spinning around behind a tree, I drew my sword and dagger.
As I spun I saw Roger fall from his horse. One of his foes remained.
I was the hunted now. One man at arms had an arrow in the thigh, but the other was fully fit and desperate for vengeance. He had a spear and he spurred his horse and lunged at me. The temptation was to try to strike upwards at him. That would have been foolish. Instead I used my dagger to flick up his spear. I dropped to one knee and swung my sword into the back of the hindquarters of the horse. The other man at arms galloped at me. He was wounded. My arrow had pinned his leg to his horse. Both were in pain. Whilst his companion was trying to save himself as his horse crashed to the ground, the wounded man came directly at me and I saw him raise his sword. He intended to strike at my head. He jerked his horse so that his right side faced me. He pulled back on his reins to allow the full force of the blow to strike me. I held up my sword and lunged with my dagger at the same time. Our swords rang and sparks flew. My dagger went inside his mail chausses and into his groin. I twisted and pulled.
I was aware that the fallen man at arms had risen. He was unsteadied. I rammed my sword into the ground and picked up my bow. I had an arrow nocked before he had taken two steps, and by the third step, he was dead.
I turned and, picking up my sword, ran towards Roger, who lay prostrate on the ground. That was when I made my mistake. The man whom I had stabbed in the groin had hobbled from his horse and he slashed at my leg. I felt it bite into the calf. I turned and, raising my sword, brought it down so hard that it took his head from his shoulders.
The sounds of battle had faded as I knelt next to Roger. He was barely alive. I saw that he had a stomach wound. Blood oozed from his mouth.
“Well, my friend, it was a short adventure, but I thank you for it. This is a better end than I might have had in Delamere. Take my gold and swords. In return, give me a warrior’s death. I would not die slowly.”
I shook my head. “I will not for…” I got no further. His head lolled to the side and my friend was dead.
I heard a voice behind me. “Archer, you have done Lord Edward a great service, as has your friend. Rise and tell me the name of the man who saved my squire and me.”
I turned and saw the three lions passant. It was Prince Edward. With his long legs and lazy eye, he was unmistakable. I dropped to my knee. “My lord.”
His squire said, “Lord Edward. He is wounded.”
The prince dismounted and said, “Lie down. I will staunch the bleeding. You and your friend drove them off, but they have done for my men. Barely six remain alive. Had you not come when you did, then I fear we would have been captured.” He tore a piece of cloth from the surcoat of a dead man at arms and bound my calf.
His squire said, “I have a horse for him.”
I shook my head. “I have one tied up in the woods.”
“I will fetch him.”
“My lord, if you give me your arm.”
“Are you sure
?”
“I need to see to my friend. We were brothers in arms. He asked me to take his weapons and his coin.” I shrugged. “We were poor warriors seeking a master. I fear he has served his last lord.”
“What is your name, archer?”
“Gerald War Bow.”
“Then I offer you the chance to become my Captain of Archers.”
“That is a great honour, but I am young. What will the other archers think?”
He laughed. “Very little, for I have none. But having seen what one man can do, I intend to raise a company of them, and you shall be the man to choose them. What say you?”
“I say aye.”
“Good, then you will be the first of Lord Edward’s archers. We will take our dead back to Sir John’s castle. I have much I need to say to him.”
Chapter 5
His squire could not believe that I eschewed the palfrey he had offered and that I chose to ride a sumpter. I patted the sumpter affectionately on the neck. “I am sorry, lord, but we have ridden a long way together. He is my last companion. I could not leave him in the woods.”
Lord Edward said, “I can see that you are loyal. That is a rare trait in many men.” He gave a strange look to his squire. They seemed to have an understanding which needed no words. It was the squire who organised the men, shouting orders and instructions.
His surviving men led horses carrying the bodies of Lord Edward’s dead. I led Roger’s horse. As Lord Edward waved his arm for the column to move, I waited to take my place at the rear of the short line of men. “No, Gerald War Bow, I would have you ride behind John and myself.”
“Aye, lord.”
As we moved, they began to speak, and I could not help but overhear their conversation. The squire, John, appeared to be roughly my age and little younger than his master. They spoke easily together as though friends, rather than knight and squire.
“That was a trap, John.”
“Aye, lord, but was Sir John in on it? If he was, then we are putting ourselves in an even worse position. With this single archer, we still do not number ten.”
Lord Edward turned in his saddle, “I fear you have joined us, archer, when we are surrounded by enemies and men we cannot trust. Had I not seen the evidence of your loyalty by the red-fletched arrows sticking from the bodies of my enemies, I might have mistrusted you too.”
There was little I could say. I was just surprised that the heir to the throne should have been placed in such a parlous position. His face invited conversation. Lords did not usually speak to me. Sir Ranulf and Sir Henry had barely noticed me when I had followed their banners, and here was a future king of England speaking with a low-born archer.
“Lord, your squire and your men address you as Lord Edward, but you are Prince Edward are you not?”
“I am, but I fell out with my father a while ago. I can see now that it was a mistake. I took the title of lord to insult him. It was an error, but we are used to that form of address now. Do you get on with your father, archer?”
“I did, Lord Edward, but he is dead now.” I hesitated.
Lord Edward turned in his saddle. As I discovered, he was a very perceptive man. His father, King Henry, was a pious and studious man, who was more at home with books. His son was not only a warrior but someone who could divine men’s thoughts.
“Speak archer. I like honesty above all things. I meet it so rarely. Everyone seems to have plots and plans of their own.”
“I was just going to say, Lord Edward, that although I got on well with my father when he was alive, I did not speak with him enough. Now that he is dead, I can never ask him that which is in my heart and mind.”
“For one so young you offer sage advice. I will give you your first task when we reach the castle of Sir John Woodville.”
“Of course, Lord Edward. I am yours to command.”
“Ah, Gerald War Bow, but with some men, that does not mean the commands will be obeyed as they were intended, but I feel I can trust you. You will be housed in the warrior hall when we reach the castle. Keep your ears open. Men talk, and if they are in their cups, then their lips become looser. I would know if Sir John had a hand in this.”
I nodded and was silent for a moment. “I fear your squire is right, Lord Edward. If he is, then when we stay in his castle are you not in danger?”
“I would be if I did not suspect a trap. We will drink little and listen much. The sooner I am in the castle at Bordeaux, the better.”
I wondered if I would see Dickon of Doncaster there. Thinking of Dickon made me realise that I still had the problem of my past to haunt me. If I stayed with the prince, then the odds were that I would come into contact with someone who knew my story. That was especially true as Lord Edward was Earl of Chester. Sir Ranulf would remember me. So long as we stayed in France I could remain silent, but if we left for England I would have two choices. I could run or I could confess. If I confessed, would I be signing my own death warrant?
We reached the castle at Saint Justin in the early afternoon. It was a strongly built stone castle which used the river along one side as a moat. Sir John must have been warned of our arrival as he awaited us in the outer bailey. I was close enough to hear the conversation.
“Lord Edward, what has happened?”
I dismounted. I knew of Lord Edward’s suspicions, and yet his voice did not betray his thoughts. He was a clever man. He was much taller than Sir John, and he had to stoop a little. “We were ambushed by men from Béarn. They were waiting for us just south of the Garonne.”
“I knew nothing of this, you must believe me, my liege! You cannot think that I had aught to do with this.”
“Did you, Sir John?”
I could not see Lord Edward’s face but I saw the fear on Sir John’s face. He was not a young man and he paled under the baleful glare of the future king of England. “No, lord. I passed the message on from Lord Henry.”
“Montfort?”
“Aye, lord. He told me that he had heard the men of Béarn were gathering in the south and threatened the border. He said he was returning to England to be with his brother.”
“Then it is Henry de Montfort who must account for his words.”
“He may have been speaking the truth. The men of Béarn are gathering, Lord Edward. That is true. We have had reports this past month of men assembling. Tarbes was threatened, and we assembled men to send there. My son, Sir Richard, led them six days since.”
Lord Edward put his arm around the old knight. “Then we will stay the night, before I head south.”
His squire said, “We do not go to Bordeaux?”
“No, John. We have a snake to quash first. Sir John, we have dead to bury.”
“I will fetch my priest.”
Roger of Talacre was buried with honour in the small graveyard of the church at Saint Justin. He would be in heaven. The rest of our past companions, Iago and his company, would be wandering between worlds. I doubted that Sir Robert of Lymm would have had their bodies buried. They would have been left for the creatures of the night. I said a silent prayer for my friend.
After my wound was tended by the healer in the castle I joined the rest of Lord Edward’s men in the warrior hall. I received accolades from the six who had survived. They regaled the men of the castle with the tale of my arrows. They exaggerated. When I tried to have the truth told, it was put down to modesty. However, the consequence was that they all spoke freely before me. It became apparent that Sir John had spoken the truth. Either that, or he had deceived his men, too.
I was not privy to the conversation between Sir John and Prince Edward, but the next day half of the garrison marched south with us. John, Lord Edward’s squire, had persuaded me to ride a palfrey and use my sumpter for my arrows and belongings. It made sense. It meant we could travel faster. Sir John had given us six servants to lead the horses with the baggage. Lord Edward’s squire rode off soon after he had given me my instructions. I was to ride next to Lord Edward. I felt hono
ured and a little intimidated. How did I speak to such a high-born noble?
I knew Prince Edward for many years. There was much about him to dislike. He could be cruel, and he could be treacherous. Others found that to their cost. He bore grudges. Yet, with me, he was always the same. He never played me false, nor did he abuse my loyalty. You cannot change a man’s nature. His line had come to power in Normandy and England. Through marriage and conquest, they had built an empire. That does not come from being pious and noble. You need to be ruthless, and Lord Edward was the most ruthless man I ever met.
“We have a long way to ride this day. Tell me how you came to be here in Gascony? There are few English archers who make the journey and even fewer with connections to Wales.”
I felt a chill. How did he know of my connections? I had to tread carefully and that was not in my nature. I was naturally an honest and plain-spoken man. I told a version of the truth which did not involve a lie. “My lord was killed and I sought a new one. A man I served with told me that there was coin to be made in France, and we came here seeking our fortune.”
“And your friend’s fortune was six feet of earth in Gascony. A high price to pay.”
“War is the only trade that Roger and I knew, Lord Edward.”
“I meant what I said. When we find the men led by Sir Richard, we shall see if there are any archers. I would have you form them into a company of archers. Are you an exceptional archer?”
“My lord?”
“Can others release as many arrows as quickly as you? Can they kill as efficiently?”
“Perhaps, but yesterday is not an example of what archers do best, Lord Edward. You need fast hands and reflexes to be able to kill a man who is fewer than twenty paces from you. There is little skill. Anyone could hit a target at that range.”