Lord Edward's Archer

by Griff Hosker

  “Yes, Captain.” We had not been a company for long, but they were becoming one, and I had confidence in them.

  I told the prince and Captain William my plans and left before they did. I wanted to ride slowly and cautiously. If there were enemies about, then this would be the perfect opportunity to harm the king’s cause. The road was a local one. It had stone, but it was not the well-tamped roads which the Romans had built. Nor was it straight. It twisted and turned. Parts of it were hedgerow and parts were open. Some farms and houses we passed had frontage along the road.

  When the sun rose, we were just two miles from the Dee crossing. We had ridden with the sun to the south of us. We would soon find a crossing point. My men and I could have forded it but princes preferred bridges. Four villeins trudged along the road ahead of us. They were going to work in the fields. At the sound of our hooves, they stopped. Horsemen rarely brought joy. They knew that flight was impossible and so they crowded to the side, beneath an old elm tree. I could manage a few words of Welsh, but we needed accuracy and so I deferred to David.

  He rattled off a mouthful of Welsh. The only words I caught were “soldiers” and “bridge”. The rest was too fast for me to understand. They talked amongst themselves and David listened. While they did so, I was able to examine them a little more closely. They had wooden-soled shoes and homespun breeks and tops. They wore a hat woven from straw. They looked emaciated. These were the poorest of villeins. They would have been given a few ploughs of land. In return, they would give half of their crop to their lord. It was a parlous existence. Grain for bread would be ground by hand and eked out. I had known many such men when I was growing up. My father had been an archer. He always had coin. We ate simply but we were always well fed.

  David turned to me. “Captain, they say that there are Welsh warriors at the bridge. The bridge is fewer than two miles from here. The warriors came there two days since. They arrived the day after an army marched north across the bridge.”

  “They would be the men who left us days ago. How many men?”

  “He says there are six.”

  I nodded. “Give them some bread.” I reached into my purse and brought out four silver pennies. They had been taken from de Montfort’s men. I tossed them to the men. “Tell them thank you.”

  The four men knuckled their heads gratefully.

  “Dick, ride back. Tell John of Nottingham I need half the men, and then ride to Sir John and tell him that the bridge is held, but I will clear it.”

  “Aye, Captain.” He dug his heels into his horse and galloped back. As we waited for my men, I watched the four of them divide up first the money and then the bread. I knew, even without speaking to them, that they would have shared the work on their ploughs. I heard hooves. The four men looked up at me and I nodded. They scurried away.

  My men, led by Jack of Lincoln, comprised of five archers. He said, “John of Nottingham thought you might like to see us in action.”

  I nodded. “We will ride a little closer.” I looked at the five archers. Ronan was the youngest, although not by much. “Ronan, you will watch the horses when we stop.” He looked disappointed. “I will whistle when you are to bring them up. Can you manage eight horses?”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  We did not gallop, but walked our horses the next three quarters of a mile. When I saw the smoke of the huts and the cross on the top of the church, I stopped. We dismounted and took our bows. Ronan took the reins, and I waved my arm to signal my men forward. They showed their skill by finding cover and moving from bush to bush, tree to tree. I dropped into the drainage ditch and walked along it.

  I heard the men before I saw them. Their sing-song voices carried across the bridge and the river. I nocked an arrow. Looking around, I saw that my archers each had one nocked already. I nodded, and we moved forward. I stepped from the ditch when I was a hundred paces from the bridge. The bridge itself was just forty paces long and three paces wide. As I pulled back, I saw the Welshmen. They were at the far end of the bridge and oblivious to our presence. I released my arrow and then dropped my bow. Drawing my sword, I ran. There were seven other archers who could rain death upon them. I wanted to make certain that none escaped the arrows. The stone and timber bridge had places to hide, and just twenty paces from the bridge was an inn. There might be horses there.

  As I ran, I saw that my arrow had struck a Welshman. It had not been a clean kill. He was writhing around on the ground. My arrow had entered his shoulder and emerged above his ribs. He would die. The others appeared mesmerised. A second and a third fell, even as I broke cover. One turned to run towards me, and a white-fletched arrow – David the Welshman used those – struck him in the chest. The others turned to run, but it was too late. One fell with two arrows. By the time I reached them, they were all dead. The one I had slain was surrounded by an ever-widening pool of blood.

  I turned to whistle and then ran across. I reached the stables just as a seventh Welsh warrior mounted his horse and tried to leave. He saw me and tried to ride me down. It was not a big horse. It was one of the large ponies the Welsh favoured. I had no hesitation. I swung my sword, two-handed, at the pony’s chest. As my blade bit into the animal the warrior tried to pull its head away from me. All that he succeeded in doing was pulling his wounded pony over, and that allowed my sword to slice deep into his thigh. Blood spattered and showered me. He gave a scream, and as he fell off, his head cracked into the door frame. It gave him a quicker death. I ran out and saw people emerging from the inn. Others peered out from their huts and houses. They saw me with my bloody sword. I shouted, in Welsh, “Get back inside!” I was not certain I had used the exact words, but the sense was clear, and when horses galloped across the bridge, they disappeared.

  Ronan and Peder were searching the bodies of the dead. I heard splashes as they threw the corpses into the water. David the Welshman nodded. “Quick thinking, Captain.”

  “I do not think any escaped, but go and question some of those in the village.” He nodded and left. I waved over Jack of Lincoln. “There is a wounded pony. Put it out of its misery. See if there is a haunch we might cook.”

  He slung his bow. “You are no slouch, Captain. That was as pretty a piece of killing as I have ever seen.”

  He left, and I went to the dead Welshman. I cleaned my sword on his kyrtle and then took his purse and his short sword. Ronan brought my horse, and I tossed him the sword. “Here, Ronan, for your trouble. Next time, you shall come with us and someone else will watch the horses.” I examined the rest of the stables. There were six other ponies.

  By the time I had finished, Prince Edward and the rest of my men were arriving. “Did any escape?”

  David appeared as the prince spoke. He shook his head. “No, my liege. These were the only ones. From what I can gather, the Welsh were alerted when our men marched north.”

  Sir John said, “I know not why they were here. What could a handful of men do?”

  “Warn whoever placed them here. Their job was not to stop us, my lord; it was to bring men and attack us in numbers.”

  “Then we had better move. We are close enough to Chester now so that I can almost smell it.” The prince leaned down from his saddle. “Perhaps it might be better if you and your archers did not enter Chester. I would rather explain your presence to Sir Ranulf before he sees you.”

  I had thought he had forgotten my confession. It had seemed a lifetime ago. “As you wish, my liege, and where would you have us go?”

  “Once you have escorted us to the castle, then cross the Dee. Mold castle has fallen to Llywelyn ap Gruffudd. They took it from the Montalt family two years since. From what I hear, he has made it something of a royal residence. It will be the first place that I intend to attack. It will make a statement. I need you and your archers to scout it out. You have a good eye for these things. Find us somewhere we can camp. If you can come up with any ideas to take it then so much the better.”

  As we were now in what was supp
osed to be English territory, we stayed closer to the rest of the column. When we spied Chester in the distance I prepared to leave the prince. “When will you be arriving, my liege?”

  “I speak with my knights tonight, and we leave tomorrow at noon. We will be with you soon after.”

  “That is not long, my lord!”

  He gave me a thin smile. “Then you had better move now, archer!”

  Chapter 11

  We skirted the castle and crossed the bridge. The gatehouse could have sent crossbow bolts and arrows our way had we been foes, but this was Prince Edward’s castle, and we wore his livery. We clattered over the wooden bridge. There was still a stone Roman one, but this was closer. I waved David the Welshman forward. As we rode, we spoke.

  “What do you know of Mold?”

  “Nothing, Captain. I thought that you would know it better. You lived around here. I lived further south.” He was right. As we had passed within ten miles of his own home, I had allowed him to visit his mother and give her the lace he had bought. It was he who had brought us news of Welsh forces gathering there.

  I nodded. “The lord I served did not get on with the Montalt family. I have never seen it close up. That will make our task harder. Take Ronan, he seems keen enough. Ride to the castle and find us somewhere to camp this night. Tomorrow, we will begin to examine it more closely.”

  I rode alone, at the head of the column. John and Jack must have realised I wished to be alone, for they rode behind me, chatting about Nottingham and some of the characters they had known. I thought back to the killing of Sir Henry. I knew now that I had thrown a stone into a pond, and that the ripples went further than I might have expected. I wondered if my killing of Sir Henry had allowed the Welsh to take Mold. A sudden fear filled me; what of Denbigh? Had that fallen too? I had not asked. Denbigh and Mold, along with St Asaph and Ruthin, controlled the Clwyd valley. Mold was the gateway. Once Mold was captured, then there was a high ridge and the three castles spread along the valley. Now I understood the reason for this campaign. King Henry had lost all of the land to the west of Chester. The Welsh raids had done more than yield food and treasure. They had gained land. What I did know about Mold was that the river, the Alyn, was small. The castle was not near to it. It relied on its position above the road from Chester; that was where its importance lay.

  A whistle alerted us to Ronan and David. We had not yet reached the river. In fact, I could see it just a hundred paces from us. We entered the wood. I saw that my two archers had dismounted. I followed suit. “John, take charge. This looks a likely place to camp. I will go with David.”

  I followed David, and he went along a hunter’s trail through the woods. When the trail headed west, he took out his short sword and cut us a path through the wild blackberry bushes. I saw why when we reached the riverbank. There, just over five hundred paces from us, stood the castle. The Montalt family had used an existing piece of high ground and built a motte and bailey castle. The Welsh king’s standard fluttered from its keep. I walked up and down the riverbank to examine the walls from the safety of the undergrowth. There was a curtain wall with a strong gatehouse. A ditch ran around the walls. When I had seen enough, I headed back to the others.

  The horses were tethered. We would take them to the river for water after dark. There was grass for them to eat and we had grain to supplement it. I waved them around. “Tonight we explore the houses and the castle. We do not get caught! Examine the ditch. Are there traps within? How many men are on the walls? How many are in the houses? I will go with Robin of Barnsley and David the Welshman. We will scout out the roads which lead to the castle.” They nodded. “We eat first and then leave when it is dark. Dick and Peder, you guard the camp and the horses.”

  Jack of Lincoln had brought the haunch of pony. He rubbed salt on it and then put it into a large pot with some river water and wild garlic. When the main army arrived we would cook it. The salt would tenderise and the garlic would flavour it.

  As we left the camp we did not take our bows. At night the advantage of a bow is lost. We carried our swords and our daggers. The bridge was in darkness, and we slipped across. The river was so narrow and shallow that we could have crossed it if we had needed to, but dry feet and clothes were always preferable. We slipped around the back of the huts. The three of us had the longest journey. The rest would be back in camp long before we were. We kept well away from the walls of the castle. Others would investigate those, but I saw from the burning brands that they had sentries at the gate, and it was barred. I wondered if they had a second?

  Once clear of the castle we made speed on the road. This was well worn. Horses and men would make the short journey to Ruthin. Half a mile down the road I had seen all that we needed to see. There had been no paths or tracks leading from it. A relieving army would have to come down this road. Rather than walk back to the castle, I led us north, across the ploughed fields. They were the sorts of fields the men we had met had farmed. The barley was just knee high. It would get higher. We found the road which headed north-west. We had only gone four hundred paces down it when I recognised it. This was the road to Denbigh. We were just a few miles from my home. It was strange that I had not visited a place so close.

  I circled my hand and led the other two back. Prince Edward just needed to seal off the two roads and Mold would be surrounded. A motte and bailey castle could be quickly reduced or even left alone. We could push on to Ruthin and then Denbigh.

  As we neared the road from the west I heard the sound of hooves. They were coming along the road from the west. The castle was a mile away, and we ran to the road junction. There was the crossroads sign. I saw Robin of Barnsley make the sign of the cross. Suicides were often buried beneath a crossroads with the post through their heart. It was supposed to stop their restless spirits wandering.

  I pointed to the other side of the low wall on the far side of the road. David the Welshman nodded and went behind it. I pointed to the other walls and Robin did the same. After taking out my sword and putting it beneath me, I lay down close to the crossroads sign. A rider would slow down and, more importantly, his horse would baulk at a man lying on the ground. I heard the hooves slowing as the rider approached the crossroads. It had to be a Welshman, for he was coming from the west. It had to be a warrior, and he had to be going to the castle.

  The horse slowed to a walk, and I heard a voice say something in Welsh. I did not recognise the words. Suddenly, I heard his horse neigh, and I knew my two men had leapt from cover. I jumped up and grabbed the horse’s reins. The rider lost his balance. He tumbled from its back, and I heard his head crack against the stone wall. Robin ran to him and then shook his head.

  “Search him. He may be a messenger. Then throw his body over the wall. We will take his horse back with us.”

  While Robin searched him, David the Welshman calmed his horse. “Through the village?”

  “We might as well. The prince will be here by noon tomorrow. It is a gamble, but it is worth it if we can find out information.”

  We led the horse. It made less noise that way. Once we neared the castle it would be heard, but the sentries would not be able to leave their post. By the time someone was summoned, we would be over the bridge. The only danger lay in a villager coming out. We walked with drawn swords. As we passed through, I heard a door creak, but whoever opened it merely peered out. No alarm was given. Perhaps the sight of the swords made them wary. As we crossed the bridge, and the hooves clattered on the wood, I heard a shout from the castle walls. We hurried down the road and Robin led the horse down the trail. David the Welshman and I quickly climbed two oaks which lay just three paces inside the wood. We waited.

  I heard feet on the bridge and Welsh voices. I could not make out what they said. I hoped that David would. Then I saw them. There were eight men at arms. They passed us and walked down the road. Their voices faded and then they returned. When they neared the trail, they halted, and a debate went on. They were arguing. Suddenly one
of them struck one of the others. There was silence. It was when he spoke that I felt shivers down my spine. A shaft of moonlight illuminated his face as he spoke. It was Hugh of Rhuddlan. He had changed sides!

  The blow had ended the debate, and they headed back across the bridge.

  I waited until I had heard them cross the wooden bridge before I descended. When David joined me, I said, “What did they say?”

  “They were confused, Captain. They heard the horse, but they could not understand why it crossed the bridge. One of the men said it might have gone into the woods and the man who was in charge told him to stop being stupid. The horse had thrown its rider. He was sending them back up the Ruthin road to find him.”

  “That means that when they do they will come back down here. Let’s get to the camp.”

  With men watching for us we could not afford a light. John of Nottingham had searched the horse and discovered the leather message pouch. There was a message, but it was in Latin and we could not read it anyway. Even had we had that skill, the light was too poor. I had a dilemma. The prince needed the information that was in the pouch, but if I sent a rider with it, we risked the garrison finding it. The rewards outweighed the risks.

  I asked my men, “What did you discover?”

  “There is but one main gate. They have a sally port, but it is on the north wall. A horse and rider could get out, but it would take time to evacuate the whole garrison.”

  “There are no traps in the ditch. It is steep, but a man could climb it.”

  “Dick, son of Robin, saddle your horse. I want you to ride to Chester and give this to either the prince or Sir John. Tell him that there is one gate and a sally port and no traps in the ditch. The rest of you, we will go to the edge of the woods. Bring your bows.”

  By the time he was ready we had strung our bows. He walked his horse to the edge. I whispered, “Walk him for half a mile and then ride as though the devil himself was after you. If you hear fighting, ignore it. The message must get through.”