by Hilary Green
‘Thank you!’ She was aware that she had behaved badly but did not know how to make amends.
By next morning Bristol Castle was astir like an ants’ nest kicked open by a careless foot. Messengers rode out in all directions. Robert was summoning all the forces he could muster. Miles went back to Gloucester to call up his men and send appeals to his allies in Wales. Sibyl, his wife, was the granddaughter of Gruffydd ap Llewelyn and her father was lord of Brecon. The army began to assemble; armoured knights from the households of Robert’s tenants and liegemen; foot soldiers called from the fields and villages as part of the feudal levy; Welsh warriors, rough-looking men in red tunics, without armour and carrying bows and long lances, led by two of their princes, Meredydd and Cadwalader. Soon the castle precinct was crammed with men and horses and others were camped outside. Robert’s cooks and servants ran hither and thither, in an effort to see everyone was provided for, and the great hall echoed with loud voices, while the smoke from the fire mingled with the stench of sweat and piss. Outside the air was loud with the clang of metal on metal and the rasp of steel on stone as the smiths worked to repair damaged armour and sharpen swords, and scented with the mingled odours of dung, both human and equine, of meat roasting over open fires, and the sharp tang of burnt bone as horses were shod.
Thorold returned to Chester and some days later Ranulph arrived to do homage. Matilda made an effort to be gracious, but could not resist remarking that it was a pity he did not follow his father-in-law’s example and declare for her as soon as she reached England. She saw the colour surge into his face, but it was anger, not embarrassment. Robert had told her that he had a reputation as a proud and choleric man and she saw that this act of homage had not come easily to him. As soon as he decently could, he turned from her to confer with Robert, who questioned him keenly about the exact size of Stephen’s army.
‘I promise you, he has only a small force with him. When my men and I slipped out that night they were just making camp and I could tell from the number of fires that there were not many of them. I think he believes he can persuade William to yield the castle by offering him lands and honours elsewhere – or perhaps as he came straight from the Christmas feast he did not have time to recall all his troops. He has the citizens of the town on his side, of course, but they are unlikely to prove much use in a pitched battle.’
Robert gestured to one of his scribes, who spread a fresh sheet of parchment on the table. ‘Show me the position of the castle and the layout of the land around it.’
Ranulph sketched rapidly. ‘The castle occupies the top of the hill, with the cathedral. The west wall is also the west wall of the town. The ground drops away steeply towards the River Witham and the land between the town and the river is flat and good for a cavalry charge, except close by the river, were it is marshy.’
‘How can we cross the river?’
‘There is a ford here, a little to the south.’
She listened impatiently to further discussion until at last Robert said, ‘Very well. We march tomorrow.’
In the great hall she called her household knights about her and bade them make ready, then turned to her ladies.
‘Pack what is necessary for a journey. We shall be gone for a month, perhaps longer. I shall need a good, warm cloak – perhaps two—’
Robert, overhearing, interrupted her. ‘You cannot mean to travel with us!’
‘Why not? It will not be the first time I have travelled with an army.’
‘But the danger! Suppose you were to be captured.’
‘Then Stephen would have the dilemma of what to do with me. Anyway, you think we are assured of victory. I want to be there to see it. Once the battle is won, I should be there to accept the homage of the defeated.’
‘Nothing is assured in battle. You know that as well as I do.’
‘I am not so foolish as to place myself at the heart of the fighting. There must be some position, some point of high ground, where I can overlook the battlefield.’
He groaned and then grinned. ‘Well, I know it is useless to argue with you. If you promise to stay well away …’
‘I will. You have my word.’
Next morning, as dawn broke, the vanguard, with Ranulph in command, rode out of the castle grounds and over the causeway. Following him came rank upon rank of infantry, archers with crossbows, men-at-arms with swords and lances, the Welsh with their longbows. Robert led the main division, mounted on a grey palfrey and followed by one of his squires leading his black destrier. With him were his household knights and after them came other groups of cavalry drawn from the minor lords who owed him fealty, and also from many who had been disinherited by Stephen and who had thrown in their lot with the Angevins. She followed, sitting sideways on a white palfrey, with her ladies behind her in three wagons, and after them ground and creaked other wagons loaded with supplies and the carts carrying the bakers and cooks and farriers and armourers and all the other essential impedimenta of an army on the march. Finally, Miles brought up the rear with another detachment of cavalry. The sun was high in the sky before all of them were on the road. They would be lucky to cover more than ten miles in a day. It would take them more than two weeks, following the old Fosse Way that tradition insisted was built by the Romans, to reach Lincoln.
On the first day of February they reached the high ridge which ran north/south through the Lincolnshire plain, divided halfway along its length by the cleft driven through it by the River Witham. Here they joined another ancient road running north from London and found a contingent of knights led by Brian fitz Count awaiting them. At Robert’s order, they made camp around the village of Bracebridge, and she went to stand with him and Ranulph at the top of the escarpment looking down towards the river. On the far side and slightly below them the twin towers of Lincoln Castle and the cathedral crowned the top of a steep hill, with the town clustered at their feet, the whole surrounded by sturdy walls. On the plain below there were groups of tents flying pennants of many colours. Horses were tethered nearer to the river and the foreshortened figures of men moved among them. At intervals around the walls of the castle they could pick out the outline of mangonels and the regular thud of missiles striking stone reverberated over the distance.
‘Stephen has taken over the city,’ Ranulph said. ‘It is only the castle that is holding out.’
‘Where is the ford you spoke of?’ Robert asked.
Ranulph pointed. ‘There, just below us. And there, further to the west, is the flat ground suitable for cavalry. I suspect Stephen will make his stand there, with the castle wall at his back.’
‘Yes, that makes sense. We’ll camp here tonight and prepare for battle on the morrow.’
She frowned. ‘Stephen must know we are here. If his forces are as few as Ranulph said, he would be a fool to face us. What is to stop him packing up and slipping away during the night?’
‘His honour,’ Ranulph said. ‘You remember that his father was branded a coward for leaving the crusaders outside Antioch? He will do anything rather than be shamed like that.’
‘Of course,’ she murmured. ‘It was frequently spoken of when I was a child at the German court. But it was unjust, was it not? He went to Constantinople to seek help from the Emperor Alexios and when none was forthcoming he thought the cause was lost. How could he have known that Antioch would fall at last through the actions of a traitor who opened the gates?’
‘And he did return to the Holy Land, and died there,’ Robert added.
‘None of that weighs with Stephen,’ Ranulph asserted. ‘I have been closer to him than either of you in recent years, and I have heard it said often that he will rather face a raging lion single handed than run away. He will wait to face us tomorrow, I warrant it.’
As they turned back to the village Miles joined them. ‘I have been to the manor house. It’s a poor enough place and the lord is a surly fellow, but they will find somewhere for the ladies to sleep and we can bed down in the hall. From the
look of the weather we shall be glad of a roof over our heads tonight. Come, I’ll show you.’
As he predicted, their welcome was less than warm and the fare was poor, tough meat and rough wine. In the women’s room there were straw-stuffed mattresses where, she suspected, a number of undesirable creatures had made their homes. In the middle of the night they were jolted awake by a violent crash. Her ladies struggled up with cries of panic and one screamed. ‘We are being attacked! God save us, the enemy are upon us.’
The room was illuminated by a brilliant flash and she said, ‘Be quiet, you foolish girl. It is a thunderstorm, nothing more. Go back to sleep.’ They lay down again but the one who screamed continued to whimper with fear. ‘I said be quiet!’ she repeated and the whimpers subsided.
She lay listening to the sound of heavy rain running off the thatch. The thunder and lightning continued most of the night and none of them slept very much.
She was up at dawn, but even so, going down to the hall she found it empty. The straw pallets on which the men slept had been stacked in a corner and there were the remains of a hasty breakfast on the table. The three ladies she had brought with her came in, scratching and yawning, and a sleepy maidservant brought them yesterday’s bread and warm milk straight from the cow. They were still eating when Robert strode in. He was already wearing his gambeson, the padded jerkin which prevented his armour from chafing him and added an extra layer of protection.
He bowed and wished her good morrow and went on, ‘Ranulph was right. Stephen is still there. He plans to face us.’ His squires were at his heels, as always, and he turned to them. ‘Bring my armour. Tell the groom to saddle Storm. Sound the call to arms!’
She followed him out of doors. The rain had stopped, but the roofs of the houses were still dripping and the ground was puddled. Trumpets sounded. Already men were tumbling out of their tents, or out of village houses where they had found refuge, pulling on helmets and buckling sword belts, half eaten crusts of bread still in their hands. Foot soldiers were struggling to their feet, rubbing chilled limbs. Robert’s two squires came out of the house carrying his hauberk suspended on his lance. He ducked his head and they poured the glistening links over his shoulders in a chiming cascade. She had seen this so many times, on so many different battlefields. It always reminded her of a snake shedding its scaly skin, but in reverse. They bound the protective cuisses around his legs, buckled on his sword belt and handed him his mailed gloves. A groom led over his destrier, ready caparisoned and barded, and he vaulted up into the saddle. She was reminded of Geoffrey at the tournament to celebrate their betrothal – but that was just showing off. Robert was about to risk his life. She went to his side.
‘Do not put yourself too much at risk, brother – for my sake if not for your own.’
He smiled down at her. ‘Fear nothing. Today we will have victory.’
Brian rode over, ready armed, and she reached up to take his hand. ‘Have a care, my dear friend. I should be lost without you.’ Then, on an impulse, she pulled the kerchief from her throat and handed it to him. ‘Wear this for me.’ He lifted the delicate material to his face and kissed it, then tucked it into his sleeve.
‘What can I fear, with this as my favour? Stay safe, my lady. We will bring you the usurper as your prisoner.’
Robert said, ‘You will see all that happens from the hilltop where we stood last night. Do not come any closer.’
She smiled at the half-hidden plea in his eyes. ‘I will wait here, with a few of my knights. I have told them who is to stay. They hate me for keeping them from the battle but if we should need to make a quick retreat …’
‘You will not need to,’ he said firmly.
The ranks were forming, in the same order as on the march, and she stood aside as they passed her, following the old road down the hillside. Then she called her ladies and her attendant knights and they went together to the edge of the scarp. Below them the enemy camp was stirring. Horses were being watered and camp fires stirred into life. From the city came the sound of bells and she remembered it was Sunday. It was a day on which the Church forbade fighting, but it seemed that neither side was prepared to observe the prohibition.
They had to wait for some time before they saw the front ranks of their own army debouching onto the river bank. They reached the ford and then there was a halt. Horses and men milled about in indecision.
She turned to Alexander de Bohun, her faithful master-at-arms who had followed her in all her travels. She knew that the half-dozen knights she had kept with her resented being denied the chance to fight, but Alexander was different. He would not leave her side unless she ordered it.
‘What is happening? Why don’t they cross?’
‘I should guess that the water is too high. Last night’s rain has swelled the river.’
There was a flurry of activity below them.
‘What are they doing?’
He screwed up his eyes. ‘They are rolling up the horse’s caparisons, tucking them round the saddles. If the horses have to swim, the caparisons would impede their legs.’
As they watched, Ranulph urged his destrier into the river. By the middle of the ford the water was swirling round the animal’s shoulders but he forged ahead and reached the far bank, shaking a shower of drops from his hide, which the early sun turned to crystal. The rest of Ranulph’s knights followed and they formed up on the far side.
‘That’s all very well for the mounted men,’ she commented. ‘But what about the foot soldiers? They will find it hard to stand against the current.’
Now Robert rode his horse into the stream, but he halted in the deepest part and waved his knights forward. Some of them passed him but halted on his other side, others took positions between him and the nearer bank, until they formed a line across the river. Then each of them grounded the butt of his lance, so they formed a rough palisade reaching from side to side. The foot soldiers waded in, their weapons held above their heads with one hand, the other grasping for the lances which prevented them from being knocked off their feet and washed downstream.
Alexander nodded approvingly. ‘Clever!’
She raised her eyes from the scene in the river and gasped. ‘Look! Now they have seen us.’
Men were scurrying about like mice in the enemy camp. The sun caught flashes of metal as they pulled on their armour. A group of riders galloped up the road leading to the city gate and disappeared inside. ‘Going to warn Stephen,’ she said.
The river crossing proceeded slowly. It would take some time for all the men to get over. Her heart was beating unnaturally fast and she had to suppress an urge to shout at them to hurry.
‘Hah!’ Alexander gave a sharp cry of alarm and she saw a company of cavalry issue from the city gate and charge down towards the ford. Without thinking, she reached out and gripped his wrist, where his hand rested on the pommel of his sword. He glanced down briefly but made no move. ‘No need to worry, my lady. See, Lord Ranulph is ready for them.’
Ranulph’s men had already formed a defensive line and they heard the sound of his voice carried up on the clear air, giving the order to charge. The closely packed line of knights started forward. Horses, trained for battle and eager, broke into a gallop and when the two forces met the sound of metal crashing on metal reached the watchers on the hill. Stephen’s men were outnumbered. There was a sharp skirmish and then they reined their horses about and galloped back to the safety of the city. Most of the men were over the river by then and Robert waved his knights on to join the others on the bank. Ranulph’s men had returned, having seen off the opposition, and the column formed up again as before.
Stephen’s army was marching out by then. Clearly the earlier panic had been replaced by discipline and the ranks formed up, as Ranulph predicted, with their backs to the city wall.
‘Must be uncomfortable for them, knowing that William’s men could sally out from the castle and take them in the rear,’ Alexander commented.
She was stud
ying the formations, trying to assess numbers. ‘Ranulph was right. It is only a small force.’
‘The fool!’ Alexander said. ‘He had enough warning. While our men were fording the river he could have got clear away and ridden north. Why face us, with the odds against him?’
‘Pride,’ she said. ‘And fear of being shamed as his father was.’
The Angevin army was deploying opposite Stephen’s. This was to be no untidy skirmish but a formal battle. Each force had three divisions. Ranulph and his men took the right flank, Robert was in the centre and Miles commanded the left. The Welsh were spread along the front of both wings. Opposite, Stephen’s thin ranks of cavalry were reinforced by a citizen infantry of oddly assorted men and boys, poorly armed as far as she could judge from this distance. His left flank looked more formidable and shading her eyes she was able to make out the standard of its commander.
‘See who is there, on the left?’ She pointed.
Alexander growled. ‘It’s that whoreson mercenary, William of Ypres. I thought he was still in Normandy.’
‘So did I.’
Stephen himself commanded the centre, with his household knights clustered about him. She could see his standard and the occasional flash as the sunlight struck a jewel in the crown he wore over his helmet. None of them were mounted, a clear signal that he intended to stand and fight to a finish. As they watched, one of his men climbed up onto a slight hillock and all those nearby turned to face him. From his gestures it was obvious that he was addressing them.
‘Pre-battle speech. He’s probably telling them what is likely to happen to their wives and children if they lose,’ Alexander said. ‘Why isn’t Stephen doing it himself?’
‘He’s no orator,’ she answered. ‘I remember that from when we were both at my father’s court. Very easy and affable under normal circumstances, but tongue-tied in more formal situations.’
As soon as the speaker finished Ranulph rode out to the front of the Angevin ranks and delivered his own exhortation. He was followed by Robert, and from her brother’s gestures she got the impression that he was referring to the commanders on the opposing side, in less than complimentary terms. The men responded with jeers and laughter. Condemned to inactivity she growled in frustration. ‘Oh, have done! What purpose does it serve?’