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

by Martin Archer

  “Well done lads. Well done. That’ll learn the bastards.” That’s what I keep saying loudly over and over as I lead my little band of assistants and guards out of Albert’s company and into the open area in front of our lines.

  Henry comes trotting over to where I’m standing as I watch our pike men strip the weapons and armor off the dead and wounded men in front of our lines.

  “Quick Henry,” I say as I watch a couple of our men finish off a screaming knight. “Get out there and make sure we take some prisoners. We may need them to exchange for Yoram and his men.”

  Then over the protestations of Peter and Robert I lead my little command group out into field to look at the king’s men and horses. They are strewn everywhere from our lines all the way up to the gate in the castle’s wall.

  One knight whose eyes are still flickering must have particularly drawn the archers’ attention – arrows are sticking out of him and his horse everywhere. He’s beyond any hope of repair so I take my sword and finish him with a soldier’s mercy into his left eye. I can’t be sure because of his injuries and pain distorted features but he may be one of the Limassol castle knights who sailed with us to Alexandria.

  Then I realize I’m terribly thirsty even though the sun is still not yet come over the hill and begun shining on the field. And if I’m thirsty so must everyone else be also.

  “Peter, Robert, run back to the companies and tell their sergeant captains to send water parties into the city.”

  @@@@@

  Captured weapons and the clothes are in piles and the men are sitting in shade of the wall quietly talking and tending to our wounded when the castle gate opens. Some of the men stand up to look when the old priest comes out and once again begins walking down the cart path towards us. This time I stand up but I stay in the shade and don’t walk out to meet him.

  “Coming to count us again?” I inquire sweetly when the heavily sweating man reaches me.

  “I have good news,” he tells me as he wipes his brow. “The king will accept your terms.”

  “I’m sure he’d like to.” I laugh. “But now it’s much too late for that and you know it. My offer was made yesterday for the purpose of avoiding a battle. Your king rejected it and now some of my men have been killed or wounded - not too many of them thanks to their experience and training, and, of course, the stupidity of your king, but more than enough to change my terms.”

  Then I lay out my terms as I poke the priest on the chest with my pointing finger each time I name one:

  “if my men are alive and in good condition and immediately released I will let the king live in return for the heads of everyone involved in their capture, ten thousand silver coins so that each of my men can be paid five, one thousand bezant gold coins for me for my trouble and expenses, the permanent end of taxation on the city and merchants of Limassol, the ownership of the Limassol castle and all the abandoned mines on the island, and the right to take all the trees I want from the king’s lands.”

  Then I snarl as I tell him the alternative.

  “If my men are not immediately released, or if any of my property and men are in any way ever bothered again, or if my terms are not fully met, I am going to hang the head of every man in the castle on a spike, including your’s and the king’s - and take everything for myself and my archers.”

  “But I’m a priest and he’s a king!” The priest protests indignantly.

  “Right you are. Yes, of course. Thank you for reminding me. Well that’s certainly deserving of some special attention - I’ll hang what’s left of you two from the city wall in addition to your heads.”

  Chapter Seven

  There is much cheering and shouting when the castle gate opens about thirty minutes later and Yoram and his men walk out. Or perhaps stagger out is a better way to put it since some of them seem dazed and confused. We rush forward to greet them as the castle gate closes behind them.

  “Are you all right, Yoram? What happened?”

  “Water.” … “In the name of God, give us water,” he croaks.

  Yoram’s story begins to unfold after we get some water into him from one of the archers’ water skins. Then with Henry and me, holding his arms so he won’t fall, we try to walk him down the hill to get away from the castle. As we walk I press him for the names of everyone involved. The king’s chancellor and the governor of Limassol are high on the list.

  We get Yoram about half way down the hill when his eyes roll up into the back of his head and his knees buckle. He can go no farther and he’s not very heavy. So a sweating and puffing Robert picks him up and throws him across his shoulders in a wounded man’s carry.

  With Henry and I each holding one of Robert’s elbows to help him keep his balance, Robert carries Yoram on down the cart track to join our wounded men in the shade by the city wall. While we are slowly making our way down to the city gate a couple of my swordsmen run ahead to make sure there will be a shady spot and wine available when we get him there.

  The other men in Yoram’s party are in somewhat better shape but not by much – and I am seething. I almost hope the priest didn’t tell the king my terms and the heads and coins and concessions that are required. I told him that we either immediately get the heads of those responsible and the coins and concessions or the king’s head is coming off and so is everyone else’s in the castle. I’m starting to hope it will be all their heads.

  @@@@@

  Yoram and our wounded are in the shade being treated by the Nicosia barbers and plied with wine and the pain-deadening flower paste when two hours later the castle gate again opens. Following the priest are a couple of the castle slaves pulling a cart into the open area in front the gate. Lord Alstain’s head is one of the six fresh cut heads on it. And so are sacks and chests of coins.

  “Count the coins carefully,” I order Robert and Peter. I don’t trust the bastard.

  @@@@@

  By the next afternoon the coins are safely on our galleys, some of our wounded men and prisoners have died, and Yoram and others are as ready to travel as they ever will be. It’s time to return to Limassol and get back to earning coins carrying refugees and taking Moslem galleys. We’ll leave the king’s dead and wounded for him to tend to. And he’d better hurry – it’s hot and they are already beginning to swell up and smell.

  People line the cobblestoned street and clap that afternoon as we walk through the city to the dock with Yoram and our wounded men and the captured weapons on horse carts and wagons. We’re ready to leave - the local priests have finished saying the proper words and waving their crosses over our dead and we’ve buried them in the cemetery of the old church even though most of them were not very good Christians and some were probably heathens. I doubt it does much good but you never know do you?

  @@@@@

  Our trip back to Limassol is relaxed and everyone is in good spirits despite the rough seas we encounter coming around the north side of the Island. One of our wounded men unexpectedly dies but Yoram and most of our wounded and captured men are lying out on the deck in the sunlight and recovering nicely. The “soldier’s friend” flower paste and the goodly amount of wine we carried out of Nicosia are helping to bring them around.

  Yoram and Henry and I spent most of the voyage talking. Yoram thinks the king’s chancellor, Lord Alstain, is the man responsible for his being captured and held for ransom.

  Henry smiles broadly and nods his confirmation when I inform Yoram that we had no idea where most of Alstain is these days but we’d recently seen his head on a cart loaded with the coins the king paid to save his life and dynasty. Then we talk and talk about the king’s other concessions and how we might use the old mines and the wood from the trees and how he and Henry are to respond if the king in any way reneges on our peace agreement – gather up your men and take them to Nicosia, starve him out, and then kill him and all his knights and officers. Until then be nice.

  We agree that one of the first thing we need to do is send a couple of men to Ni
cosia to act as our spies so we’ll always know the king’s strength and thus the size of the force Yoram and Henry will need to send to defeat him if it becomes necessary.

  Henry suggests a great idea - we’ll use Aaron and some of the king’s coins to quietly buy or start a tavern or ale house near the castle gate, a place where the king’s men can congregate and drink unwatered wine. Even better, Henry thinks he has just the man to run it; a good natured older pike man from Ireland with a recently acquired Cypriot wife. We’ll also try to get someone into the castle.

  A huge crowd of cheering and waving people are waiting for us as we bump up against the dock and begin to tie up. I spot an anxious and very pregnant Lena standing next to Harold and nudge Henry to call the two of them to his attention. She is clinging to her infant daughter and obviously desperately searching for Yoram. And, by God, there’s Randolph and young Anderson. They must have come in while we were in Nicosia.

  The look of relief and joy on Lena’s face when Yoram gets to his feet and she sees him makes me all feel very good indeed – and for some reason I begin thinking of my son and brother and feel very much alone. I miss them very much and for some reason I suddenly feel my eyes watering and have to turn away to rub them.

  @@@@@

  All of the next day is spent sitting in the shade with my master sergeants and captain sergeants having serious discussions. What have we learned from our experiences at Nicosia? What should we do different? That sort of thing.

  I haven’t told anyone yet but I have decided to start for England in a few days and return next spring with all the archers I can marshal.

  One thing comes across loud and clear. We need to keep more men here to guard this place and much more food in our castles and fortified compounds so we cannot be starved out before a relief force arrives – and that might take a year or even longer. Another thing we now know is that facing charging knights with just two lines of pikemen is not enough. We must require that every man serving as a Marine on our ships qualify as an archer and be fully equipped with a long bow, one of Brian’s pikes, a shield, and a sword.

  I damn well know two lines of pikemen are not enough. Got knocked down in the third line didn’t I?

  “And a metal helmet, a water skin, and a breastplate,” Henry adds as he looks up from whittling away on a piece of wood with his dagger.

  “I can do it,” Brian agrees, “but I’ll need more smiths and more iron and more bow wood, and, of course, more space and more fletchers and bow makers.”

  Yoram wants permission to install interior walls and bastions on all our Limassol walls “just like they are building in Damascus.”

  He uses a stick to scratch an outline in the dirt while he tells us what a bastion is and why we need to install bastions and interior walls to strengthen our defenses.

  Bastions and compounds with interior walls quartering them are the very newest thing in military thinking and sound quite sensible to me. They’d sure as hell be much harder to break into.

  In any event, Yoram’s probably right about needing to improve our defenses. Indeed, after all he’s been through we’d probably agree to just about anything that might strengthen this place and make it safer for everyone. And why not? Our new recruits and refugees can build the bastions and interior walls with our newly acquired wood and stones.

  Once the building program for the months ahead is settled our talk turns to recruiting and training and what to do about a moneylender who apparently cheated some of our men out of their prize money. To a man our master sergeants are concerned that we have too many men who do not speak English well enough to understand their commands or come to them with their problems. And I certainly agree with their concerns and tell them as much. But I don’t mention Thomas’ similar concern that we don’t have enough senior sergeants who can read and do sums.

  “You’re right, of course, and the only place to get the archers we need for our Marine archers is England and Wales. That’s why I’ve decided to go back to England early this year - so I’ll have time to recruit more archers to bring back with me when I return in the spring.” And because I’m getting very homesick to see George and Thomas.

  “Actually I’m thinking about leaving very soon, within the next week or two if possible, because of our new arrangements with the merchants. That will give me time to stop in Beirut and Antioch, and maybe even Constantinople, on my way back to England - the places where we might decide to establish our own offices or even fortified compounds such as this one.

  And, of course, I’ll be visiting other ports along the way which I’m not about to mention until we’re almost to them.

  Thomas, I remind everyone, is very actively recruiting and training archers at Restormel. He apparently has a hundred or more men ready to send out to join us; maybe even two hundred by now – and almost all of them speak English. Then I let them what I am thinking of doing with the archers and ask them what they think of my plan.

  “I have a mind to send out the archers we have in England as soon as I get back instead of waiting until next spring and bringing them with me when I return. That way Henry and his sergeants can spend the winter training them to use Brian’s pikes and walk about in step. If I send them as soon as I get back they’ll be here to help you if the king misbehaves. Besides that, they will already be here so you’ll also be able to start using them on your galleys and cogs next year as soon as the sailing season starts.”

  Everyone nods their heads in agreement and Yoram looks much relieved. And he should be - it means he’ll have a hundred or more additional archers to help guard his family this winter when I’m not here. Little wonder that he perks up considerably and begins talking about where they might be barracked and how much additional food and firewood he and Thomas Cook will need to buy and where it might be stored if our Cyprus compound is to survive a long siege until relief arrives.

  Then we talk about what we might try to do in Constantinople, Antioch, and Beirut and how we might do it. It gives me a headache just thinking about all the different possibilities.

  @@@@@

  Getting ready to go back to England requires me to tie up all kinds of loose ends. One of the first things I do is walk to the market with Peter and Robert to talk again with Aaron, Reuben, and the other master merchants. We have many things to talk about now that we have settled the question of which ports the merchants will be in as our agents and how many escape galleys they want to hire.

  It’s always good to see our new partners and their welcome is sincere and warm. I finally open our real conversation when the absolutely required but extensive pleasantries of personal health and family inquiries are finished.

  “Aaron, in a couple of days these two young men and I are going to take a couple of galleys and make a voyage to visit Beirut and Antioch, and maybe even Constantinople, to inquire about setting up some kind of permanent compounds or offices. Do you have any suggestions for us?”

  Aaron does and so does just about everyone else. We spend hours eating and talking about what we might do and how we might do it. We also talk about their plans for placing offices and hiring escape galleys in the ports along the Holy Land coast; and about where we can buy bulk silver, iron, and copper that we might be able work into coins using coal for the melting instead of charcoal. They agree to help us find an alchemist who knows how to separate silver, iron, and copper from the rocks they apparently come in.

  Our afternoon is coming to a successful conclusion. I have a much better grasp of things as I stand up and start to leave.

  “Oh please don’t go yet, William, I have a great favor to ask of you,” says Reuben from Latika. The other merchants are smiling as he gently but firmly pushes me back on to my pillows.

  “My brother has a unique problem with a slave that he needs to solve before he moves to Alexandria to represent you there and we all think you’re just the man to solve it.”

  “I don’t buy slaves and I don’t keep them. I free them, as you know.�
��

  “That’s it exactly. It is a gift because he wants the slave freed and properly cared for and kept by someone such as you, not sold or given away or cast out to starve.” A gift. Damnit. I can’t refuse a gift. He’d be insulted.

  “Of course I would be honored to accept your brother’s gift. Please thank him for me.”

  “Oh thank you, thank you. He’ll be pleased and she will be too. She’s heard all about you and is very happy to pledge you her liege.” She? She?

  “She?”

  “Oh yes. And very well trained in household matters by her mother isn’t she? My brother got her mother off a Frenchman in Beirut some years ago to settle a debt and she came along soon afterwards. My brother thinks she may be his but he isn’t sure. That’s why he wants her with a good man such as you, because she might be his daughter you understand.” Oh my God.

  I’m still sitting there trying to understand what just happened when Reuben returns leading a young woman – who promptly prostrates herself in front of me and places my foot on her head. What have I done?

  “Thank you for freeing me and accepting me as your vassal, Master,” is what she says in French after I move my foot and motion her to stand up. She says it with her eyes looking down at the ground. Then she darts a look up at me with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Bloody hell; where did those eyes come from?

  I’m speechless and all of the merchants and my men are smiling broadly, too damn broadly. Now what should I do?

  “Er. Oh. Please stand over there until it’s time to go. Uh. Are you hungry or thirsty?”

  “No Master. Thank you for asking.”

  @@@@@

  I’m periodically holding my head in dismay and my men are all smiling at each other as we walk back to the compound. My new vassal is obediently walking three steps behind me. I truly don’t know whether to laugh or cry or be angry or pleased. But she certainly does have blue eyes, doesn’t she.