by Griff Hosker
I heard Sir Harold shout, “I am coming!”
We splashed into the water and, as White Star struggled to his feet, I scrambled away from his thrashing hooves. I still held my sword and I grabbed my dagger. I waded across the ditch. It only came to my knees and I turned so that the men on the walls could protect my back. I heard feet above me as men ran from the castle. The two men who had slipped down the bank came towards me. One was a knight and the other looked to be a squire or a man at arms. Two more men rushed down the bank to get at me. Above us I saw Sir Harold as he hurried to my aid. His sword came down and struck one in the back but the second whirled and, holding his sword two handed, hacked into the knee of Sir Harold. As my knight fell, the warrior swung himself into the saddle of Sir Harold’s horse and galloped down the ditch to the river.
I had to get to my knight. I threw caution to the wind. Instead of waiting for them to attack me I ran at them. They were both in the water and finding it hard to keep their feet. The flat of a sword clanged off the left side of my mail coif and I lunged with my dagger. I hit the man in the neck. He put his hands to his throat as his breath went from him. He fell at my knees choking on his own blood and a lack of air.
The second warrior swung his sword and hit me in the back. It knocked me from my feet and I landed in the water. Above me I heard a cry of triumph. “Now is Geoffrey Guiscard avenged. Now the Warlord will die!”
He knew I was old and he anticipated that I would struggle to rise to my feet. He was wrong. I had something to drive me. I had my own friend to avenge. I dived while swinging my sword. His sword came down to strike where my head would have been. Mine bit into his leg above the knee. The force of my blow half severed the leg. His weakened blow hit my back. I landed face down in the bloody, muddy water. I began to choke.
Suddenly hands dragged me to my feet. I looked up and saw that Samuel and Thomas had come to my aid. I brought up some river water and the two of them helped to haul me up to the top of the hill where my men at arms and archers were despatching the last of the enemy. I did not have the breath to shout for them to cease. We needed prisoners. Richard was kneeling next to his father and Harry of Norton was wrapping a bandage around the stump of a thigh.
“Fetch a torch else Sir Harold will die!”
Richard was holding his father’s hand, “Do not die father! This is my fault! I did not have my weapon ready I…”
“Peace. It is not your fault. It was my time.” He looked over to me, “I am sorry Warlord, I tried to come to your aid. I am old and I am slow but at least you live. Watch my sons for me. They have much to learn but then so did I. If you could turn a scrawny outlaw into a lord of a manor then Richard and Walter should be child’s play.”
He did not know that his son Walter lay dead. “You can watch him yourself. Your fighting days are over. Mine are too. We will go back to Stockton and enjoy the salmon in the river.”
To my right I saw the flicker of the torch as it was brought to seal the wound. “It is too late, lord, and you know it. We do not lie to a dying warrior. Fear not I go to join Dick and Wulfric, Edward and Roger of Lincoln. I …”
His eyes glazed over and he was dead. I roared, into the night, “No!” I should have stayed in Stockton. London might have been lost but Harold, Ethelred, Walter, Jean, Arne and Guiscard would be alive. This city was not worth the lives of the ones who had died. I was not worth their deaths. I sank to my knees and I began to weep silent tears. Most were for the dead; I had lost so many friends and warriors that I had lost count. But I also wept for me. I was alone. I had outlived all that I cared for All that I had left was my son, William, and his family. Harold was gone and that was the last link with the past. The shadows had come and enveloped my world. Why could I not die and find peace? I began to climb the steep bank.
Just then I had a sudden pain in my head. I could barely stand, “Samuel, get me into the castle for I fear I will faint. The words seemed to come from another and I could barely feel my legs. Was this God answering me? I felt his arms beneath me and I lost the power of my legs. I felt blackness consuming me. Was I dying?
William
Part Two
A King’s war
Chapter 6
Le Mans France
The King had insisted that I travel to France with him. He could not have the Earl Marshal but he could have his son. Perhaps I was a lucky charm but I did not enjoy the accolade. I wanted to be at home with my wife and my family. My daughter, Ruth, had just lost her husband and she needed me. This was not a war I enjoyed. This was a cagey war. King Henry was using strategy to gain land and power. He was trying to isolate his sons and the King of France. It was a dirty war.
I knew that if my father had been in command then it would have been prosecuted much more forcefully. The war would have been over already. King Henry was trying to show what a clever man he was. He had been accorded accolades and his opinion sought by princes, dukes and even kings. It had gone to his head and he saw himself as a more powerful man than he really was. I knew now, at the age of fifty-two years, that my father was the only really powerful man in the whole of Europe for he was not guided by self-interest. He had the people and the land in his heart. It had taken me many years to realise that. The longer the campaign lasted the more disillusioned I became.
The knights I had taken with me, Sir James of Forcett, Sir Phillip, Sir Padraig, Sir Gilles and Sir Morgan all felt the same. This was more like a game of chess than a war. Neither the King nor his opponent, Louis, seemed willing to take a chance. Sir Leofric was well out it. I had rarely envied someone a wound but when he had to go back to La Flèche I did. He had left just a day or so ago. It was a lucky wound. Within seven days he would be home and I would still be in France. I would still be with a king who would not bring the enemy to battle but would make us trail up and down the land seeking position.
Now, it seemed, we had the opportunity to bring the war or this part of it, to a conclusion. Philip of Flanders had agreed to make peace with King Henry and we had the men whom Henry had left in the north of Normandy available. They were already marching south under the banner of Geoffrey, the Count of Caen. With two hundred banners it would double our army. Despite the small number of knights, I had brought, King Henry regarded my conroi as the most important for I had over a hundred archers as well as a hundred men at arms. They were well led and the most skilled men who had ever followed my banner. I took little credit for that. It was my father who had built them up. I had merely taken them over. All that I was I owed to the Warlord, the Earl Marshal.
We were now heading east towards Chambord. This was a small village just east of Blois but crucially it lay between Bourges and the Loire. King Henry claimed Berry and the French King disputed ownership. If I had been a lawyer it would have been very easy to argue that it was French. The King’s grandfather, Henry, had only ever owned the northern part. Stephen of Blois’ family, whom my father had fought for many years, had more a of a claim than either king. Such arguments were immaterial. Might beat right every time. When the Count of Caen arrived then we would drive south to Bourges and bring this war to a conclusion. Then I could go home.
This was France and King Henry had men who knew the land better than we did. We were not required to scout. My men were the better scouts but I did not complain. Like my father I resented every lost man at arms and archer. They were all like family to me. Masood, the best scout I had ever met save for Aiden, rode with my archers. He got on well with them. I rode with my two squires, Ralph and Thomas, behind me. Sir Morgan, who had been my squire, rode at my side. The son of a Varangian he had come to us with few polished skills but such a natural ability that within months he was already a formidable warrior.
“Earl, will the King’s sons revolt any more do you think?”
“Alf, keep your voice down. It is a sore point with the King. He did not actually win the war. He had to make adjustments and come to an accord. That is not King Henry’s way. To answer your q
uestion, I would have to answer, probably. Geoffrey will soon be married and have Brittany. That will satisfy him; for a while at least. Richard has been given Aquitaine and with his mother incarcerated in Winchester he has his own kingdom. Henry the Younger? He wants England. It is only William Marshal who keeps him on a leash. He busies him with tourneys and hunting. King Henry has given him the Earl as a guard and a mentor. He hopes that William can do for his son what my father did for him; make him a King. I think the revolt is over. And that is why I wonder why the King does not return home!”
“So far we have little to show for our war.”
I nodded. “That is why the King has promised to pay us. We have given him the forty-day service to which he is entitled. You will be compensated. The archers and men at arms will receive their money. Any horses lost in the campaign will be made good by the King.”
“That is expensive.”
“This land is rich. The King did not fight so hard for Scotland, Wales and Ireland. They do not bring in much revenue. When we take Berry, we have a French jewel and the outlay of funds by the King will be justified.”
We rode in silence for a while. The land through which we rode was full of vineyards and prosperous farms. This was not England with unpredictable weather and ice for three months of the year. You planted here and it grew. Not only that it grew well. I had been given an estate but when my first wife died I had given it away and gone on Crusade. Stockton and the Tees Valley might not be as rich but it was my home. It had taken the heat of the Holy Land to show me that. I had learned much in that land. I learned the Knights Hospitallers were a worthy group of warrior knights but the Knights Templars were little more than brigands. I had seen lords come from the west and become counts and princes overnight. They rarely ruled well. For me the crusades had shown me the best and the worst in men. Now that the Franks were losing many of them were fleeing. They were bringing back the worst of the east. I was content with England. This chevauchée on a grand scale did not sit well with me.
One of the King’s squires, Philip, rode from the front of the column, “Earl the King would like a word.”
I nodded, “Take over, Sir Morgan.”
The King was ten years my junior. I had served his father, Geoffrey of Anjou. That and the fact that I was the son of the Warlord seemed to give me a special status. The King had a short temper but I was one of the few who could argue with him. Others dared not do so. His sons argued with him all the day. All, that is, save John whom I thoroughly disliked. For all that Henry and Richard argued with their father they were knights and they were warriors. John was a sulky little prince. I was just happy that he would never be king.
The King was in the middle of a covey of his household knights. When I approached he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. That was his way. His father had enjoyed the company of his household knights. I had been one. He had even preferred their company to that of his wife, the Empress. Henry could be a little more detached. My father had trained him but I knew he had not given him that particular trait. I reined in next to him and he glanced over his shoulder to make certain we could not be overheard.
“Earl, I have a task for you.” I nodded. “First I need to take you into my confidence.” He explained to me where we were going and what we would do. I was impressed. It was a good plan. It reeked of my father’s influence. It combined daring with surprise and yet afforded safety for Anjou and Normandy.
“A good plan sire. It means we can be done with this land inside of a month.”
“You have children?”
“Two, sire, a boy and a girl.”
“They obey you?”
I was not sure how to answer that. “A difficult question, sire. I have not had cause to order them to do anything yet.”
He nodded, “Ah, you are not a king with land to grant.” I said nothing. “My sons fight me. I know that their mother puts them up to much of that. The witch is in Winchester and she can rot there. Do you think they will fight each other once I am gone?”
This was another question I could not answer and so I side stepped it, “You will live a long time, sire.”
“My father died young.”
“But not your mother.”
“I miss her. The advice she gave was sage. I miss your father. To be blunt I would have preferred his company to yours. But his wound…”
I was not offended for I would have preferred to be in England rather than riding through the land of Touraine. “He is old, sire. He should be enjoying his old age in Stockton.”
He dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand, “He serves England, as do you.” I gave a slight bow and prepared to return to my men. “When we have settled the question of Berry I would have you ride to my son, Richard. I know he admires you and your father.”
“And what would I say to him, sire?”
He lowered his voice, “Tell him that he shall have Normandy when I am gone.”
I knew that young Henry would not be happy about that. He wished to have England, Normandy and Anjou. He was greedy enough to want Brittany and Aquitaine too but pragmatic enough to know that his two brothers would fight him for them. “He may not believe you, sire.”
He turned and gave me a sharp look. “Then persuade him that I speak the truth!” His face softened, “You are well thought of and know how to speak softly. I have not been given that skill. I can be blunt and I can be abrasive. I am too old to change. As soon as the Count of Caen comes and we see how the land lies then you can go.”
I sighed, my journey home would be delayed, “And my men and knights, they can return to England?”
He stared at me, “Aye I suppose so but they are good men. I would they were mine.”
“They have families, sire. They are Englishmen and this is not their land.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment and then shouted, “Oh Earl, one more thing. I have sent a letter to your father. I have asked him to go to Chester to ensure that my sister can marry Prince Dafydd. Then he will sit safely in London and be my representative there. I thought you should know that I have given him the easiest duty I can. I need him fit for the future. He is an important part of my plans for my son John. I would have him do for my son what he did for me: make me ready to rule! Englishmen need a leader they can follow.” He looked as though he was going to say something else but thought better of it and with a wave, dismissed me.
As I rode back I think I knew what he had been about to say. He was going to say that he was King and Englishmen fought for their King without question. There might have been a time when I believed that but the death of my wife and the crusades had driven those thoughts from me. Now I knew that which was valuable. I would do the King’s bidding for if he owed me favours then the land I ruled would stay mine and stay safe. I was its guardian now that my father had grown old. When I returned to England I would make the Earl Marshal give up his office. There were others who could be Earl Marshal. I also wondered at the King’s words. Had he given up on his son, Henry?
The King stopped at Blois. The Count of Blois, Theobald, was an uneasy ally of King Henry. He would not fight his cousin but he was unhappy about fighting his liege lord the King of France. It was fortunate that Louis was a weak king for that made Theobald an ally rather than a neutral. We had none of his men with us. The Count was in his castle at Chartres sixty miles north. That way he could absolve himself of any problems King Henry might make. I was sent with the main army to make camp at Chambord where we would await the Count of Caen. The Earl of Surrey, Miles de Warenne, commanded the army and, after we have left the King and his men at Blois, he rode with me at his side towards Chambord.
“You know this country, Earl, why God’s name has he chosen Chambord? I would rather be at Blois! Living in tents and hovels is not my idea of war.”
“There is a huge forest to the south of Chambord. It will allow us to disguise our numbers. The King is cunning, Earl. He has gone to Blois with just two hundred men. The French h
ave spies in the town. They will report his presence.”
“Aye and they will have seen us heading east.”
“But not south. I think that our position here is twofold. We are close enough to Blois to block any attempt by the French to invade Anjou but there is a small road through the forest. It leads to Vierzon. That was a castle which belonged to the Counts of Blois and before them the Norman ancestors of King Henry but the French have taken the castle. We take the castle and that will threaten Bourges. We draw the French north to fight us. If they do not then we march south, take Bourges and Berry is ours.”
“It sounds simple but a forest does not suit knights.”
I smiled, “No but it suits archers. The knights and men at arms travel along the road while the archers are a line of beaters ahead of us. My archers will ensure that any French scouts are eliminated.”
“You sound confident about men who are little more than peasants with a bow.”
His attitude was that of many nobles and he was wrong, “With respect my lord, my father and I have discovered that well trained archers and me at arms can defeat even knights.”