“No Excellency,” I tell him for the second or third time as I bang my hand on the wooden table so hard that my bowl of wine jumps. I’m getting aggravated.
“We do not want good looking boys; we only want smart boys who can be learned up to read and write Latin like priests and do sums. They can be ugly as sin if they are quick to learn and lively.”
Our big intake is from the hundreds of slaves we freed from the Algerian galleys. Most of them quickly make their marks in exchange for food and transport to Cyprus and the Holy Land; the rest take of running as soon as their feet hit dry land.
We’ve got the slaves who stayed with us on double rations to strengthen them up and we’ll sort them out when we get to Cyprus. If the past is any guide there will be some men from Britain and a lot of potential Marines and good sailormen among the others who have nowhere to go.
A legion of men with no homes to go home to is what they mostly are - and so are we, Thomas and me, except that we have George and each other and a couple of castles including the big one with three rooms and an escape tunnel.
It’s a good thing we signed up so many of the slaves even though many of them are sick and will die of the coughing pox – spreading our men out over the prizes means all of our galleys are going out of Malta shorthanded - even though I changed my mind about adding over a hundred archers and men at arms to one of the new cogs so it can sail as one of our pirate takers. Instead it and other two will sail as cargo cogs with only sailors in their crews.
We’ve got enough sailors because so many of the Algerian slaves came off of sailing ships their galleys took; it’s Marine archers we’re short of, particularly those who know how to use a longbow. We don’t have any to spare for another pirate-taker.
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It is a stirring sight to see and hear as the drums begin to beat and our three new cogs and all but one of our twenty five galleys move out of the harbor on the last Saturday in April. One of the galleys under William from Lewes is staying behind to gather up any late arriving prizes. I’m not hopeful. Perhaps the last two prizes have been retaken.
We’ve got candles in the lamps on our masts and once again we’ll try to stay together for as long as possible. It’s probably not all that important that we stay together because it’s a rare pirate that will go after a war galley. They are, after all, much more likely to be carrying fighting men than valuable cargos.
On the other hand, it’s better to be safe than sorry since the Algerians may be out in force as a result of our raid - and recognize our prizes as their own and try to take them back. As we well know, even the best crew of sailors and Marine archers can be overwhelmed if they have to fight a large number of enemy ships or boarders at the same time.
In any event we stay together for three days before a passing squall causes us to separate in the night. In the morning several of our galleys are visible in the distance but we make no effort to rejoin them. The days that follow are sunny and the wind favorable so we only have to row periodically. The men spend their time working on their weapons and clothes and yarning about how they’re going to spend their prize money.
Harold and I spend much of our time at sea talking with some of the slaves recently freed by our galleys, particularly those who claim to be master mariners who know these seas and the streams along the coasts where water and safety are available. There are likely some strong arms among the Algerian slaves we freed but not an experienced archer among them. We’ll have to train those we decide to keep.
Several of the men Harold and I talk with were ships’ masters and sergeants before the Moors took them and claim to be able to read and cipher as well. But it soon becomes apparent that only one them actually possesses both skills. His name Robert and he’s from Yorkshire.
Robert’s family, so far as he knows, were serfs or tenant farmers. He’s not sure. He’d been learned his sums and letters in the monastery where his village priest had sold him as a young boy when the pox took his family back when old Henry was king. At least that’s what the monks told him before he gave up being a novice priest and ran off to sea from the nearby port of Whitby.
“It’s better to be a galley slave,” is Robert’s only comment when I ask him how he liked being in the monastery. But he can read and do sums and is willing to make his mark and join us as a sailor sergeant. I’m going to keep him close to me for a while to see if he might be useful. Anyone who distrusts priests can’t be entirely hopeless.
Talking with Robert Monk raises an idea I’m going to discuss with Thomas when I get back to England – if Marines and sailors are too set in their ways to learn to read and write maybe Thomas can find the men we need at the monasteries and we can learn them to be Marine archers and sailors. If not, we’ll have to keep looking for boys Thomas can learn to be both and wait for them to grow up.
Chapter Four
Cyprus is joyful and pleasing as we row into the Limassol harbor on a wonderful early summer day. It’s like coming home and, truth be told, in many ways it is. It’s certainly a nicer place to live than England because of the weather. The problem, of course, is what my brother Thomas keeps reminding me - that my son and I are English and will always be outsiders here no matter how much we try to fit in.
Besides, just living here would be boring and my brother and I have bigger things in mind for George.
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Yoram and a number of our men are waiting at the dock as I vault over the galley’s deck rail and join them. Yoram gets a big embrace and there are big smiles and handshakes and backslapping all around. I’m glad to be here and there’s no denying it. Of course Yoram gets a big embrace and I hug him off the ground and dance him around. We’re friends who have been through a lot together - and I want to establish his importance in the eyes of our new men. There are a lot of eyes on us and the word will get around.
And by God there’s Brian and Henry!
“Brian is that you? Can it be?” And another big hug although this time I’m a lot more careful and don’t pick him up and swing him about. Brian’s got a bad leg doesn’t he? And good old Henry gets a big handshake and a hearty clap on both shoulders for the good man he is.
We four walk arm and arm up the beach with a big and happy crowd following behind and everyone talking and waving their arms about. Good friends, being alive and unhurt after a battle, and prize money will do that for you every time. My young helpers and fetchers Peter Sergeant and Robert Monk follow behind us and take it all in.
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Yoram’s report is quite interesting. The six galleys we sent back from England last fall have been bringing in a constant stream of refugees and lots of coins – lots and lots of coins and refugees. Many of the coins they bring are ours from the payments we receive for carrying refugees and pilgrims. But others are coins being sent by merchants and others who are willing to pay us to hold them safe until their owners show up with the proper parchments and claim them.
They are depositing coins with us for safekeeping?
“When did this depositing thing start? Who is doing this?”
“At first it was the leather merchants from a village outside Acre. They buy their leather from Cyprus and don’t want to chance losing their payment coins to pirates. So they offered to pay u a fee if we would carry their coins here and guard them until they need to spend them. Then the story got around and others began sending coins to get them safely out of the Holy Land in case the Saracens come and they have to run for it.”
“It’s turning into a good way to earn coins. It all started when we charged a fee to carry coins here for the leather merchants so they could buy hides and other things here in Cyprus without having to risk a sea trip.”
“And, of course, I’m very careful – I keep all of our coins on one side of my room and all those that belong to others on the other side.”
Yoram is seriously worried that an effort will be made to seize the coins. He takes me up the stair to show them to me - and what I see surp
rises me, it truly does. He has so many chests of coins stacked up on both sides of his room that there is hardly any space left in the middle for his family. And it isn’t just an attack to rob us of them that worries me. I know how heavy a chest of coins is and I’m afraid the floor will give way and drop them on the archer sergeants sleeping in the room below.
“And all the new galleys will bring in even more coins and refugees,” Yoram tells me. “A whole lot more.” Well I certainly understand why Yoram is keeping so many of our Marine archers here as guards.
“Well, I certainly understand why you’re keeping so many of our archers here,” I tell him. “It was a very good decision and you were absolutely right to make it.”
Another of Yoram’s problems are the refugees who come with the coins. He is continuing to employ all the refugees who will work for food – they are presently working on a third wall and already starting a fourth. And we’ve got four eighty-oar galleys in very stages of construction in the little shipyard we set up next to the beach last year. The first of them is about ready to launch.
The place is like a beehive and the hive is getting stronger and stronger.
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Later that afternoon, as soon as we have a chance to walk together and talk privately, I ask Yoram what else he thinks we should be doing.
“There are three things I think we should try to do in order to earn more coins,” Yoram suggests very deferentially. I can tell; he’s obviously thought about this for some time.
“One is to buy one of the old copper quarries from the Roman days and use it to mine the stones we need for the faces of our new log walls. There’s one fairly close that might be good for us. It’s obviously been closed for years but we can put some of the refugees to reopening it for us and move them there to live and cut stones to face the logs in our new walls.”
“Another thing is to buy some of the trees on the king’s lands and use some of the refugees to cut them and bring the logs here for use in building our new curtain walls and maybe even use it in our shipyard - except I’m not so sure about using the local wood for building galleys. The local shipwrights don’t like it. Besides, we’re still getting good ship building wood from the Lebanon despite the fighting, even from the Saracen ports if you can imagine that. And it’s already cut, isn’t it?”
“I thought we were getting the logs we need for the new walls from the local merchants?” We don’t want to alienate the local merchants.
“Well we are, William. We are. We’re buying our logs and shipyard wood from the two local wood merchants. Unfortunately, or so they claim, they don’t have many tall trees left to cut. The problem is that the good logs that stand high enough to use in our walls are hard to find. The problem is that most of the tall trees still standing are on the king’s hunting lands and can’t be cut.”
“Okay. That’s two things and they both sound reasonable. What’s the third?”
“I think we should use the additional galleys to expand to serve more cities than just those related to refugees escaping from the Holy Land. Rome and Constantinople would seem to good places to earn more coins. We’ve got refugees here who would have paid more if we had offered to take them beyond Cyprus. Then we’d have more coins and fewer refugees to look after.”
“Well you’re right about that too – adding more cities to those we already serve is something Thomas and I have been talking about. Malta, for example, comes to mind because it’s a good stopping place between England and the Holy Land.” Yoram’s a smart fellow indeed; Thomas is right – he’s our most valuable man. Do you suppose it’s because he knows how to read and do sums.
Yoram then shyly tells me that while I was gone he took it upon himself to make a couple of changes that immediately earn my instant approval and thanks. One is that he is giving our galley crews much longer shore leaves so that he always has the Marine archers of at least two ships, several hundred of them, living in the tented barracks areas inside the walls at all times. Hmm. He’s right we need the Marine archers here even if it means their ships and sailors have to stand idle in the harbor.
Our coins are supposed to be a secret so the Marine archers are only told they are on shore to practice their archery and learn to use the newfangled Swiss pikes Brian is producing. And that’s what they do every day they are on shore. Henry supervises the sergeants conducting the training; Brian supervises the fletchers and smiths making their weapons. Once the Marine archers are fully learned up with using pikes their ship goes back to sea and another ship comes in so its Marines can take their place.
Yoram’s other change has been to start sending our galleys to more ports along the Holy Land coast because “they have rich refugees too.”
Yes, Thomas is right about Yoram – he is our best man.”
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That evening after the sun goes down and work stops the five of us get together to sit outside and talk and eat chicken and drink bowls of the sweet local wine. Brian Archer, Henry, Harold, Yoram and I are sitting on stools outside our little keep - and Yoram’s very pregnant and cheerful Lena is constantly tripping off to bring us bowls of wine and chicken from Thomas Cook. It’s a relaxing time and we have much to discuss.
One of the first things I inquire about is the French knight who is the king’s cousin and Limassol’s governor. Yoram and Henry immediately begin laughing. Ever since Thomas spoke with him last year and told him about the assassins he has locked himself in his castle and won’t come out unless he is summoned by the king – and that apparently fears him even more.
After a while Thomas Cook comes and joins us. Thomas is one of our original archers who now prefers to stay in camp and supervise the cooking. And a good cook he is.
Thomas is like Henry – last year he’d decided to stay in Cyprus instead of returning to England with us; he says just the thought of getting seasick again is enough to make him ill.
We talk about everything – they tell me what’s happened here and in the Holy Land since I left, who’s run or died or gotten poxed; Harold and I tell them about Algiers and the battles we fought in England and why. And most of all we talk about what to do with our all our newly arrived cogs and galleys.
My God we’ve got 31 galleys and five cogs stationed here and more than two thousand men if you include all the slaves we’ve freed.
The death of Edmund’s wife and children absolutely enrages all the old archers who’d known Edmund and they growl their approval when I tell them how we avenged them. And, of course, both Henry and Brian sit up and listen carefully when they hear about the effectiveness of the Swiss pikes on land and the long bows everywhere. I tell them that we need more pikes and long bows produced and every Marine archer trained to use them. They nod with both determination and satisfaction when I tell them it is now their highest priority.
My young helpers and fetchers Peter Sergeant and Robert Monk sit quietly in the corner and say not a word.
We all agree. There is no question about it - a large force of archers and other Marines needs to be here on Cyprus as guards at all times because of all the coins that are upstairs in Yoram’s room and because we’re such a threat to the pirates and the local governor that they may try to eliminate us. We also agree on the need to keep our Marines trained up so they don’t get themselves killed because they aren’t schooled enough to use modern weapons or don’t have them.
Or, if Thomas is right, they die of a pox because they aren’t careful about where they piss and shit and stick their dingles.
Keeping enough men here and training and equipping them with modern weapons is important. On the other hand, we also need to keep our galleys and cogs constantly at sea with enough Marine archers during the sailing season so they can earn coins by gathering up refugees and carrying coins and coin earning parchments, cargos, and passengers.
Before we stagger off to sleep we have an answer everyone seems to like – we’ll establish and equip more companies of Marine archers than we need for our gal
leys and cogs. Then each time a galley or cog comes in its sergeant captain and sailors can take it right back out with a fresh company of Marines - and leave its current company for training and to act as guards until its turn comes to go to sea again.
Up until now each galley and cog has had its own Marine company and, except for archers, we’ve only recruited when we need to replace someone who has been lost or run. But deciding how many additional Marine companies we will need and how to recruit them is something that will have to wait until tomorrow.
At the moment I’m in no shape to decide anything except that I’m cheerfully full of sweet wine and need to walk to the piss pot by the gate and take another piss. Then I’m going to crawl on to one of the string beds in the downstairs room of our little tower where our senior sergeants sleep.
Tomorrow we’ll begin passing out the prize money for the Algerian prizes that have already reached Cyprus. We are, of course, still waiting for two of our galleys and five prizes to come in. But the men were promised their prize money when they got their prizes to Cyprus and many of them are already here. They need to be paid or they’ll start getting anxious. Maybe when we finish handing out the prize coins we’ll have time to talk about the additional Marine companies and what they will require. And, most important of all, where we’ll find the additional archers and longbows.
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Bright and early the next morning, right after we’ve come back from pissing and shitting, Yoram and I and the senior sergeants walk out of the tower to a horse cart waiting in the courtyard. I myself am carrying one of the sacks of coins over my shoulder and drop it on the cart. Yoram carries the other and Peter Sergeant and Robert Monk walk ahead of us wearing chain mail shirts and carrying swords. Peter is carrying a sword for me along with his long bow and the two quivers of arrows and two bow strings every archer is expected to have with his bow at all times.
The Archer's Return: Medieval story in feudal times about knights, Templars, crusaders, Marines, and naval warfare during the Middle Ages in England in the reign of King Richard the lionhearted Page 4