Both the Abbot and the archdeacon get the same reassuring answers to what I assure them is their “very reasonable” requests for money and lands – I will personally recommend their requests to William since I am sure the churches in the Holy Land will get a share of the resulting benefits. They both enthusiastically agree that my “request” for a cut is an absolutely splendid idea.
What they both also get in addition to my demand for a share of the proceeds, and both reluctantly decline, is a sincere offer of transport to the Holy Land so they can pray for Lord William at holy places where it will do the most good.
It’s the first time William and I have been solicited so directly for coins by high and mighty churchmen and we need to learn how to better handle them. Just telling them to piss off doesn’t sound right. Now that we’re gentry we need to do it more smoothly.
They probably ignored us in the past because we had no coins or land for them to gull us out of, wouldn’t you think?
But we’ve got to come up with something so they go away quickly. It seems each time a churchman shows up begging for coins he expects to be fed and dined as well. We can handle that, of course. Feeding them I mean. But what is so unbearable is having a good meal ruined by having to listen to them drone on and on.
When William returns, I’m going to suggest that hereafter we ask everyone who shows up what they want as soon as they arrive and, if they are clerics, we’ll offer them passage to the Holy Land instead of money - and then regretfully announce that we are immediately leaving to “practice military training and maneuvers for the next crusade” and the cooks are going with us.
There is little doubt in my mind of will happen; if they are clerics most of them will leave immediately when they see they have no prospect of either coins or free food and ale. If that doesn’t work and they still want to stay we’ll carry them off to the next ship we have outbound to the Holy Land and send them on a pilgrimage whether they like it or not. They can help row.
Besides, it’s true about our need for more training and maneuvers. Our plan is for fighting men who are going to be different – they’ll need to know how to fight both on land and on sea.
Then a totally different problem arrives – a coiner and three mine overseers. All are named Wartha or something like that. It is hard to tell from their incomprehensible speech in what seems to be the local dialect of this part of Cornwall. They aren’t here to cadge food and coins; they’ve come because they’ve heard about their new lord’s edict against slavery in Cornwall.
They want to know if it applies to the tin mines on the Restormel manors whose tin revenues belong to the throne. According to them, without slaves there will be no tin and without the tin there will be no coins for Prince John. Coins?
“Coins? What about coins?”
“No one will work in the tin mines except slaves. Too dangerous you know. So we have to have slaves if the coiners are to get tin to mix with the King’s silver and copper.”
What follows is a long and tedious and hard to understand explanation about how tin is mined and heated and stirred and such to produce coins in Cornwall for the king. It’s a pity William isn’t here to hear it. It finally becomes apparent that only the miners have slaves; Wartha the coiner is here only to support the Warthas who are mine owners. His only concern is getting enough tin.
Finally I end it by telling the increasingly shaken miners that they are quite fortunate Lord William departed leaving me in charge - otherwise their heads would be on pikes at the gate for disobeying his order to immediately free all the slaves on his lands.
“Besides you’ll get more tin and be able to coin more coins for the throne if the miners work willingly for pay instead of grudgingly because you are forcing them. The same applies to your serfs. So I’m going to help you since I know both Richard and John in addition to William - I’m going to tell Lord William you came to tell him that freeing your slaves and serfs and producing more coins for the throne is what you are going to do.”
“Yes, there’s no doubt about it. King Richard and Prince John will be greatly pleased when they hear you’ll be providing them with more coins.”
William and I need to look into this closely. Maybe there’s a way we can get some of the coins or even make some for ourselves.
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It’s a brisk early morning in late September and as soon as the sun comes up I’m off to Trematon to get George with over a hundred of our men as an escort. From there we’ll go to Falmouth to meet with Harold and arrange for our ships to move to the Fowey the next time there is favorable weather. Martin will remain at Restormal with Thomas and keep training the men who stay here.
We eat a hardy breakfast in the moonlight and leave before dawn because I want to see if a company of men can walk from here to Trematon in one day with a forced march. It’s quite chilly early on but the day is beautiful and our spirits are high as we tread the footpath – until we get our feet wet crossing at the ford. The water is damn cold and that’s a surprise. But we carry on and warm up considerably when the sun finally comes out.
It’s dark by the time we see Trematon in the distance. Actually it’s not Trematon we see but rather the light of the lantern I had a couple of our horsemen carry to Trematon yesterday so we can find it if we arrive in the dark.
Our march is somewhat of a success. A couple of men drop out but most of them make it in time to crowd into the tent next to the shed that serves as the castle’s cook house now that it has more mouths to feed. The castle knows we are coming and is ready. Waiting for us when we arrive are pieces of cheese, bread bowls of piping hot lamb stew with turnips and onions, and bowls of strong ale.
I eat in the hall on the first floor the keep. George and Lady Dorothy and the children come down the stairs from the tower room and join me in front of the fireplace. It is a joyful time and, unlike the men who have to share bowls or use the big ladle, I have my own bowl for the beer Dorothy sends a girl hurrying off to get for me from the cookhouse.
Two hours later Dorothy and I climb the stairs in the dark and lay ourselves down to sleep next to the sleeping children. The children are all together on one of the sheepskins stuffed with straw so we take the other. And that is fine until we pull the big sheepskin over us and lay side by side and try to sleep together in the dark.
It doesn’t work. We touch by accident and then we tentatively touch when it clearly isn’t an accident and then we touch and touch until she gets up on her knees and I get behind her and in her. She never says a word and neither do I.
Later that night I suffer from drinking too much beer and wake up to use the piss pot. She gets up and uses it herself right after I finish. Then she crawls back under the skins and in one big motion pulls my head to one her breasts and pushes it into my mouth. After a while we begin to touch each other until she throws her leg over me and sits herself on my dingle quite pleasantly. Not a word is spoken.
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Breakfast the next morning is quite normal. We talk of this and we talk of that and we pay attention to the children. Then it’s time for me to go to Falmouth. The men who have been guarding Trematon will stay for a few more days and then most will go back to Restormel. We’ll leave a dozen or so steady men here for the winter.
I’m taking one of the wagons in case the children get tired and need to ride. The men will pull it just as they did to get us here. One of Lady Dorothy’s men will come with us. He’ll ride one of Trematon’s two horses so that we’ll have a messenger if we need one.
“Be sure to send my horse back and come back yourself when you can,” she asks me as I lift the boys up on to the wagon. “Every so often I need something to ride.”
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Three days is all it takes for us to reach Falmouth and start up the footpath along the river to our ships and camp. It’s a peaceful scene on a cool crisp morning. Smoke is coming up from cooking fires and men are everywhere. Some of the men are lounging about working on their arrows and weapons
and two big groups are standing out by the archery range.
All the loungers stand up as we approach and there are friendly waves among the men as they recognize old friends. And here comes Harold all a smile to welcome us and shake my hand with enthusiasm. It is a nice and friendly setting even if it’s still damp from last night’s rain.
“Hello Hello Lord William and welcome you are and you too Master George. Have you and the boys eaten, William? Would you like some bread and cheese? We’ve even got some butter churned and mashed berries for the bread.”
“Hey, Harold. And it’s good to see you too. Come to hear your latest news and bring you up to date on mine, aren’t I? And also to eat some of your bread and cheese if you’ve got any handy for us. The boys and me are always hungry, aren’t we? The men too.”
Harold has much to tell. He launched the galleys as soon as we left for Trematon but held them on the river until word came of our victory. Then he reestablished our camp and began cooking and training the men on shore again - though he kept the ships fully crewed and all the men slept on them at night.
Our two galleys returned while I was gone and they were loaded with archers and some promising lads who think they’d like to become apprentice archers. He’s got them all over to the archery range to practice and he thinks some of the experienced archers might be quite useful.
“”Oh yes, I almost forgot – I released Sir Percy as soon as I got the word. Took him down the river to his wife in a dinghy didn’t I. Done it myself actually. He’s a fine old bloke, he is. Has a lot of good stories. Gave him a gold coin for his trouble like you said I should.”
Harold’s other good news is that somewhere along the line the sergeant captaining one of the galleys found three likely young boys of George’s age – one orphan whose priest spoke highly of him and two brothers whose mother wanted them to have a better life. Within minutes the six boys go from shyly meeting each other to running off to the river shallows together to chase frogs.
Harold’s eyes go up when he gets the news that we will be moving from Falmouth to the River Fowey because we intend to make Restormel our permanent base instead of Falmouth.
“The Fowey runs right up to Restormel doesn’t it?” I ask.
“Aye, it does. But I doubt we’ll be able to get too far in from the mouth before it gets too shallow. We’ll have to find out won’t we?” Then after pausing a moment to think, he adds “Well then. I better get a move on, hadn’t I? The weather in the channel is already getting iffy.”
Chapter Five
Moving to the Fowey takes longer than we’d hoped. We get the galleys loaded and down the river to Falmouth Harbor quick enough. But when we get there the weather in the channel isn’t helpful and the winds wrong. We’ll have to wait and make a run for it when the weather finally changes. Galleys don’t do all that well in heavy weather don’t you know?
About the only good thing about waiting in Falmouth is that I get to visit with Sir Percy and we have a fine old time at his favorite alehouse. And maybe it’s good we waited - while we are waiting one of our cogs came in with more recruits and the winter clothes its sergeant captain had been ordered to buy.
The cog’s captain sergeant is one of the slaves we freed along with Harold, and he’s also named William by the way. He’d been the master of a London cog taken off Malta by the Tunisians and they kept him to row. It seems the winds that are keeping us here brought the cog to us from London quite nicely despite the foul weather. And William Sailor has good news - if we want to sell, he has found a buyer for the flower paste.
“I passed the word and a funny looking apothecary fellow is waiting when I docks again at Southampton on me way back here. I gives him a look in the box and he knows exactly what it is, doesn’t he? Says he and his guild will pay eight hundred silver coins for each box.” My God. The stuff’s worth its weight in gold.
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Five days later the weather clears and we make a run up the coast to the Fowey. The boys and I and a lot of the men are seasick all the way. But we get there and leave the cog in the little harbor at the mouth of the river - and take the galleys as far upstream as they can go. Probably nine or ten miles.
There’s an area that looks like it might be somewhat sheltered on the Restormel side of the river about a mile short of where the river shallows.
Harold thinks it will do for a sailors’ camp and there is a footpath along the river all the way up to Restormel with several brooks and little trickles that will have to be waded. They’ll pull the galleys ashore and sleep in them.
If Restormel is to be our principal base then our first thing to do is bring our supplies and coins up the path along the river and build some kind of log and tent barracks for the archers and men at arms inside the second wall.
Hmm. And perhaps we should build a third wall to make it even more difficult for anyone trying to get in. I’ll have to talk to Thomas about that. As it turns out, it is Trematon that needs another wall more than Restormel.
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Before we start unloading the ships again Harold sends four of our smallest dinghies and our strongest rowers to see how much further up the Fowey they can go. The men and I, all except the sailors doing the rowing of course, are going to walk to Restormel. Harold and I load the boys and a couple of shovels and axes in the last dinghy so they can ride in it as its “cargo.”
All the men except the rowing sailors and the boys walk on the footpath along the river. We’re quite a crowd – several hundred men - and a ferocious looking lot we are with our beards and weapons. We meet some walkers on the way and they run for it. We also meet some monks going from Bodmin to another monastery. They promise to pray for us in exchange for some of the bread and cheese we are carrying.
To my surprise we get quite far up the river and can even see the castle in the distance in front of us and off to our right. But we’re blocked when the river widens and the water spreads out over a sandbar. Hard shoveling and scrabbling at the ground with sticks and hands cuts a little groove so we get on through with our “cargo.” We are able to another mile or so and that’s it. We can go no farther. Empty we can go further towards the castle, and perhaps all the way; but this is as far as we can go with cargo even if the rowers get out and wade.
We’ve gone as far as we can go because we’ve reached a wide patch of rocks with the water flowing over it just inches deep. We might get even closer if we remove the rocks but it’s getting too cold to do that now – and we have other more important priorities such as training our archers and men at arms and providing them with shelter for the coming winter.
All in all I’m well satisfied. Now we know what we know about the Fowey. So I keep going towards Restormel with the men and Harold and his sailors begin floating back to our galleys to load our coin chests and other cargos bound for Restormel. They’ll begin rowing them upriver immediately and men from the castle will come down to where they are unloaded and carry them the last few miles.
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Thomas is absolutely thrilled when he hears we are in sight. He mounts a horse and gallops down to the river to meet us. He is particularly pleased to see George and meet the new boys.
“Enough for a proper school” is how he puts it.
Our mood is upbeat even though dark clouds are over us and a chill wind blows as we walk to castle and talk along the way. Thomas’ tales of the clerics and the tin miners and coiners are quite interesting. He’s right that we need to know more about them, much more.
Coiners eh? I wonder how they do it.
And he’s also right when he says that his schooling of George and the boys will have to wait because he needs to go to London to carry petitions and gifts to Prince John and the Papal Legate. He’s concerned because another version of what happened to the dearly departed Earl may have already reached Prince John and his councilors.
We want Prince John to know of the Earl died fighting to seize property from a widow to sell to help ransom Richard so h
e can displace John. Our hope, of course, is that John will see us as allies in his battle to hold England and confirm our possession of the Earl’s lands and castle. And, of course, we also hope he’ll follow Richard’s practice of selling titles and lands to raise money.
In other words, we hope to do the usual with the nobility and bribe him out of a title.
Chapter Six
Early the next morning Thomas leaves for London to see Prince John and the Papal Legate. He takes two dozen of our best archers and swordsmen with him “just in case.” The chests of paste are known to be valuable and London’s merchants and the moneylenders who serve them are well known to be thieves when large amounts of coins are at stake.
Thomas’ plan is to go down the Fowey and take whichever galley or cog Harold suggests will be the safest in the dangerous early winter waters of the channel. And that’s exactly what he does. He and his men sail in the cog loaded with the wooden chests the apothecaries want to buy.
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It is early November and the London air is thick with smoke when the storm tossed cog carrying me and my seasick men finally ties up at a Southampton dock. William Sailor and the cog will wait at the dock while I hire a coach to carry me and three of my steadiest men to meet the London apothecaries. We’re all wearing chain mail under our tunics and carrying swords.
Not to put too fine a point on it but the apothecary is absolutely astonished when I enter his shop, hold out my ring to be kissed, and announce I have one hundred and sixty five chests of “the soldiers friend” flower paste in the hold of a cog tied up at Southampton for the unbelievably low price of two hundred silver coins per chest. We’re holding back twenty chests for ourselves.
“You really have that many chests? My God. Is it safe? Is it guarded?” And then, he cautions me, that he and his friends will need time to raise the money to buy so many chests. He’ll know more, he assures me, if a few hours. Then he plies me with questions as to how we got it and where the cog is docked.
The Archer's Castle: Exciting medieval novel and historical fiction about an English archer, knights templar, and the crusades during the middle ages in England in feudal times before Thomas Cromwell Page 6