by Griff Hosker
It was almost September when we headed north. Even as we left Pisa, the mountains loomed ahead of us. Had the French not closed their ports to us we could have reached England a whole ten days quicker. We were meant to take this journey. We had borne the heat of the Holy Land and now we would be tempered by the ice of the mountains.
In one respect, we were aided by the Romans. When they had ruled their vast Empire, they had built good roads to aid their armies as they marched to conquer and control their provinces. They had also built places for their important people to stay. Many still existed. Not as grand as in the great days of Rome they offered stables and beds. We also found monasteries. There our tanned skin and stories of the Holy Land gained us entry, food and a bed for the night.
We had skirted Genoa. The last thing we wanted was for our shields to be recognised by the sailors from the ship we had fought. Turin was the last walled city before we began the tortuous ascent of the mountains. Had we delayed our journey by even a few days we might not have made it. The snows began. It was just a flurry at first. We reached the area known as Luciaria and managed to take shelter there while a storm raged. The people were welcoming. When we had been in Savoy we had been able to speak with the people but here they spoke German. Birger did the talking for us.
There William discovered that his wound did suffer in the cold and the damp. He ached. He began to use drink to help him to sleep. Birger shook his head, “No, Master William. For there lies madness.” He went to his bag. He had a flask containing oil. When he opened the stopper, it had a strong smell. “We have a berry on some of our trees at home. We call it the muscle berry. Women crush the fruits and distil this salve. If you rub it, sparingly, on your wound it will ease the ache. Just use it before you sleep and only when in the cold and wet.”
I laughed. “That could be any time in England.”
The salve worked.
Delayed for a day while the snow storm raged we heard the unwelcome news that King Richard had been taken by the Austrians and was being held for ransom. I could not believe that the King had allowed himself to be taken. The selfish part of me wondered how that might affect me. My new men were also unhappy at the thought that our king was now a prisoner.
“Austria isn’t far away, lord. Could we try to rescue him?”
I looked at David of Wales. The question was an honest one but showed that he had no idea of what was involved. “Austria is close but there are many castles. How would we know which one he was in? He will be guarded and there are only nine of us. It is best we get to England. Perhaps there is an army already gathering to free him!”
Birger shook his head, “No my friend, Austria is but one part of this Empire. The Emperor Henry must have been consulted before Duke Leopold took the King. An army, no matter how big, could not hope to march through the Empire. Your country, I fear, will have to pay for the return of its king.”
When we left Luciaria it was with heavy hearts. As our horses struggled through the snow we huddled beneath our thick cloaks. They had proved a wise investment. We rode in silence. The confidence we had felt when we left Pisa was now evaporated. We were only half way along our route and there would be no welcoming king in Normandy to confirm my manor.
Gradually the roads improved. The real snow of winter had yet to begin. In fact, when the sun came out and shone on the snow-covered peaks and icy blue lakes of Swabia the land could be seen to be beautiful. We stayed in inns which catered for travellers such as we. The horses were stabled and, although we slept in small, corded rooms, we were warm and we were fed.
When we reached the Rhine, we were forced to sell four of the horses. They had suffered in the mountains. We sold them to a horse trader. We were paid a pittance of their true value but he offered us valuable information. We discovered that we could pay to be carried downstream on barges. He assured us that they would take us all the way to the coast. Birger was a good judge of character and he believed the man.
Leaving our squires with the men and the horses we rode down to the place on the Rhine where the barges were moored. Many of the bargemen were willing to take passengers but few would take horses. I was not going to leave Skuld behind. The one who would take horses was not the cheapest. However, as Birger pointed out, we could sell most of the other horses and that would offset the higher cost. We just retained Skuld and three other horses. The horse trader gave us a better price for the fit horses. He allowed us to use the horses to transport our baggage to the barges and then took them off our hands.
Unlike the ship from Caesarea the journey on the barge was stately and smooth. The sail was used when the wind was in our favour. Otherwise the captain appeared happy to allow the current to take us. We stopped regularly to take on more cargo and to offload goods. It was probably the same pace as we might have managed on horses but this was both safer and easier on our mounts.
Our barge journey finished at Nijmegen. The birthplace of the Emperor it was the largest place we had seen since Turin. A bustling port we sought passage on larger ships. This would be where we parted. Birger found his ship first. There were more ships trading in the Baltic than in the seas around England.
“Thomas, we have been through much together. I do not think our journey will end here. Let us not say farewell. We both know where the other can be found. If you ever need help from me then you know where to send word and I will do the same for you. I have an estate at Sigtuna. It is not far from the Stock Holm. If you ever get to my land then seek me out.”
I clasped his forearm, “And I too believe that our friendship will endure. I cannot see clearly what the future holds for us but I think our destinies are tied together.”
My new men were also sad to be losing Birger and Petr. They had both been good company on the journey home. Men who have fought and bled together, as we had, are bonded. They are like brothers.
It took another four days before we found a ship. It was going to a place I had not heard of, Hull. It was on the Humber. The captain was going there to pick up wool from the monks of Meaux Abbey. Travelling empty, he was more than glad to take us and our two horses. The idea of seven armed men was appealing for the German Sea was not a safe place. There were still pirates. We headed home.
England and the Bishop of Durham
Chapter 5
Compared with the journey thus far the short trip to England did not last long. The seas were colder and the skies greyer but it took but three days. There was little in Hull save for the hall which was used to store the wool which the monks of Meaux sent abroad. We had to walk. We headed north and east. I was anxious to get home but we had to move at the speed of the five men who marched with us. We had to use our two horses to carry our goods. The sooner we could buy horses the better.
Beverley was less than ten miles away but it took the better part of half an afternoon for us to get close to it. Luckily, we passed a horse farm just four miles south of the burgeoning market town. They only had sumpters but that would do and I bought ten of them. We reached the market town in the late afternoon. We found accommodation in an inn and it was there that we discovered that this was not the land we had left. Beverley was far enough from my home for me to be unknown but I learned that life in my father’s valley had changed.
When the inn keeper heard where I lived and discovered who I was he said, “Aye it is a pity that the Earl of Cleveland died. He kept us safe here from the ravages of the Scots.” He had lowered his voice, “I wouldn’t say this to another, lord, but Prince John seems more concerned with making money than keeping our borders safe. Taxes were high enough but now he is trying to raise a ransom for King Richard! There is only so much money in people’s purses. First we paid taxes for a crusade and now we pay taxes for a king.”
William and I ate with our men. They looked unhappy with the inn keeper’s words. Henry Youngblood said, “Aye the people paid money but we left many good men over there. They paid with their lives!”
I nodded but I was distracted
. If the Scots were now raiding south of the Tees what had happened to the castle? For almost a hundred years that had guarded the crossing of the river. My great grandfather had denied the Scots access to the south. I know that my father’s death had caused a problem but surely there were enough lords who were left to defend the town.
When my men began to become agitated I said, “These people are not warriors, Henry. They are farmers and innkeepers. This is their world. They have no more idea of what went on in the Holy Land than you have of life in a nunnery!”
That made them all smile and the evening ended a little better.
We had eighty miles to go and I chose the shortest route. I decided to avoid York and head through Malton and then Helmsley. There was a castle at Helmsley. I would try to stay there for the night.
We saw more animals than people as we headed north. This was sheep and horse country. Those that we met greeted us with smiles. It was obvious that we were crusaders. In addition, we were mailed and armed. They would not risk angering such men as we. We reached Helmsley in the late afternoon. This was a mighty castle and the equal of Stockton. The lord of the manor had been Sir Aubrey de Vere. He had been a friend of my father’s. When I said my name, I was welcomed. The knight remembered me and my father.
William and I ate with the lord and his family as well as his household knights. The food was good and the company excellent but the news they delivered cut to my very soul. After we had answered all of the questions about the Holy Land, the battle of Arsuf and my father’s death, I asked about Stockton.
The silence which greeted my question and the embarrassed looks should have been warning enough. I persisted, “Come, my lord, tell me of my father’s manor. We heard in Beverley that the Scots have been raiding again.”
The knight, who had been of an age with my father, sighed, “Prince John took advantage of the death of your father to return Stockton and all of the manors thereto to the Bishop of Durham. The bishop had been demanding their return for some years. It is still the same bishop that your grandfather bested. Hugh de Puiset does not forgive nor forget. Your grandfather’s power and influence meant that the bishop’s complaints fell on deaf ears. Your father was equally strong. King Richard had no time for Bishop de Puiset. He listened to your grandfather. Prince John, now he is a different matter.” He paused. His wife gave a shake of her head. Sir Aubrey said, “I will speak no more about motives for I do not know the truth of it but I have my suspicions.”
I detected an undercurrent. “And the people who served my father what of them? The families of the knights who died, where are they?”
Sir Aubrey looked uncomfortable, “I have to say I know not. We did not discover what had happened for some time. The family of Sir Richard of Hartburn came here. His wife had family in Anjou. Her father had a manor there. She and her family were returning to her mother. It was she who told us what had happened. I sent my son to discover what had happened to the rest.”
He gestured and his son, Sir Roger, continued, “All the families of the dead lords had left the valley. There had been Scottish raids on some of the smaller manors. Cattle were taken. I think some were killed. I know many who had family elsewhere returned to them. They might have stayed but the bishop has given the manors to his own knights. We took on some of the men at arms who had served your father. They are here in the castle.” He sighed, “We heard that some became outlaws.”
“I thank you for that. They were good people. Then tomorrow we head for Stockton and I will try to discover what happened to my father’s things. The manor may have been given to the bishop but all else belongs to me!”
“Would you like me to send my men to escort you? You have but six men behind you.”
“Thank you but no. I would not embroil you and your family in my problems. I will use peaceful means first. I plan on visiting Prince John to make a direct plea. Where is he?”
“I believe he is in the estates he has claimed in Derbyshire. He is spending money to make Bolsover and Peveril castles stronger!” There was a warning in his words that I was not to take on the prince.
As we headed north the next day William was pensive and my new men were silent. William had no family. His mother and father had died of the plague when he was seven years old. My father had brought him up until he became a squire. He knew the castle and its people well. “Surely some must be left at home. They cannot all have left.”
I was not certain. Although Sir Aubrey had not elaborated I knew there were many things he was not telling me. Prince John was a dangerous man. I had known that before I left England with my father. My grandfather had always said that he was the one son of his friend King Henry who had not a noble bone in his body. His other sons had all trained with my grandfather. Prince John had been the only one not to have met with grandfather’s approval. I know, from what my father said, that King Henry did not have much time for him. He was famously known as Lackland as he was the only one of Henry’s sons not to be given any. John was his mother’s favourite. He was the youngest. She had indulged him and kept him far from his father. The results of that could now be seen.
We closed with Thornaby in the late afternoon. The castle was gone! All that remained was the hall. Sir Edward had built the castle and Sir Wulfric had made it stronger. Ralph of Thornaby had been a bachelor but he had plans for it. Now the walls were gone. I saw other stone buildings close by. They had reused the stone. My heart was filled with dread as we dropped to the valley of the Tees. The towers and turrets of Stockton Castle, the strongest castle in the whole valley, were gone. I could see men still toiling to dismantle the walls. The two large halls stood. The other buildings: the stables, kitchens, granary, they were still there. I saw that the wall around the town was now no longer wood. They had reused the stone. For that I was grateful.
I was recognised by the ferryman, Alan. His great grandfather had built the ferry. “My lord you are come home! We did not know if you had perished with the other knights. We had no word!”
“It is good to see you Alan. Will you take us across?”
He nodded, “I have to tell you, though, lord, the bishop has doubled the rates for crossing the river.”
“Your family no longer controls it?”
We were half way across and he shook his head. “When the new lord came the bishop came with him. He said this was his river and he would determine the prices. He said that this was the price the people had to pay for protection from the Scots.”
“Yet the Scots have raided!”
He shrugged, “We are just poor men, lord, what do we know? The priests tell us that we cannot argue with the bishop. He is God’s and the King’s representative.” We were nearing the north shore, “Stockton is not the prosperous place it was in your father’s time, lord. More coin goes out than comes in.”
We stepped ashore and that was a low point for me. The gatehouse and the walls were gone. My home was now a mean and bare place. We led our horses towards the hall. No matter what I thought of the lord I had to speak with him. After that… for the first time, in a long time, I did not know.
I was met half way to the hall by two men at arms. I did not recognise either of them. They were polite. That was understandable for the seven of us had the look of veterans. We were toughened armed men. We had the looks which told others not to argue with us. “My lord, what is your business here?”
“If you recognise my shield and surcoat then you know what is my business. Stockton is my home. It was my father’s castle.”
They looked at each other. One said, “If you would wait here, lord we will seek counsel from our lord.”
I shook my head, “I will not stand like a beggar before my father’s hall.” Handing Skuld’s reins to Hugh I strode towards the hall. William gave his reins to Robert and then spoke to David. He followed me.
The two men did not know what to do. They delayed and in that delay, I was already twenty steps closer to the hall. The door opened and a sergeant at a
rms stood there with a drawn sword. I did not pause but growled, “Sergeant, sheath that sword now or use it! I am Sir Thomas of Stockton. I do not respond well to threats.” My hand was on my sword.
A voice from inside said, “Ralph, sheath your weapon and allow in Sir Thomas.”
I saw the sergeant at arms hesitate and glare at me. Then he obeyed. As he stood to let me pass I said quietly, “You should thank your lord, for he has saved your life.” I nodded behind me. There was an arrow aimed at him. David of Wales was less than forty paces from the sergeant at arms.
The knight who greeted me was older than I had expected and he wore the tunic of an Hospitaller. “Sir Thomas, come in and you can tell your archer that none of you will be harmed. I have seen too many useless deaths.”
I turned to William, “Tell the men to watch the horses but remain alert.” The knight looked vaguely familiar, “Do I know you? Your face…”
He smiled, “You may have seen me. I was at Arsuf and followed Garnier de Nablus in that reckless charge. It was where I was hamstrung. I am Sir Richard D’Aubigny and I am lord of the manor of Stockton.” He gestured with his arm, “I beg you to sit and I will explain.”
I did so. I stared around at the familiar tapestries. Old Alice had sat with the young women and they had sewn the scene with the battling warrior. This had been my hall. I had grown up inside its walls. I had played on the fighting platform. I had sat in the solar on my grandfather’s knee. Now the solar and the fighting platform, along with the walls and towers were gone.
“After I was wounded I was sent to the valley to tell them of the loss of your father. When I arrived, I discovered that the news had already reached the Bishop of Durham. Prince John was in the Palatinate visiting with him. Prince John decreed that no sanction had been granted to build the castles of Stockton, Yarm and Thornaby. He said that your great grandfather was a Warlord and had not sought permission from the lawful king.”
“But he had the permission of the Empress Matilda!”