The Throne

by Griff Hosker

  He put his arm around me. He had grown so much that he was almost as big as I was. “What say you to a foreign war?”

  “Castile, my lord?”

  He shook his head, “My father has incompetent men around him and I would not have my name associated with failure. No, William, I sail to the Baltic. The Teutonic Knights have a holy crusade against the pagan Lithuanians.” He pointed to a knight who wore a wine tunic with a black cross. “That is an emissary from the Grand Duke of Lithuania, Alexander Vitautus. He is Frederick von Plettenburg, a Teutonic knight. They are ridding that land of the last pagans in Europe. This is a chance for glory and to make a name for myself.” Henry was a clever man and he knew how to read other’s minds. “You need no glory and so, you ask yourself, why should you come?”

  I smiled, “You are my liege lord.”

  “And this would involve more than forty days campaigning. I am no fool. You and your men are worth the extra payment to keep you six months. I would pay you and your men for their service. I would pay you two hundred English pounds. Half now and a half when we return in six months.”

  That was a small fortune! I pictured my wife’s face when I told her.

  “Six months, lord?”

  “I intend to make a name for myself. If I cannot do it in six months then I will never do it.”

  “And horses, lord?” Some lords expected men at arms and knights to bear the expense of a horse lost in war.

  “I will make good any losses when we return to England.”

  “Then I am your man. When do we leave?”

  “You have a month to ready your company and to bring them to Hart-le-pool. It is in Durham. We sail from there. It will be the shortest voyage and do the least harm to the horses.” He nodded to the Teutonic knight, “Speak with him. You are the warrior. The knights who follow me are brave enough but they are young and you have a mind for the battlefield. Discover all that you can before we reach the north. You will find Sir Frederick an interesting man.”

  I sat next to Frederick von Plettenburg. There was no place for my squire or my son and they ate with the warriors. John did not mind but I thought Tom would burst into tears. In light of what the Teutonic knight later told me I was pleased that they were absent.

  “The Lithuanian pagans are vile and abominable. If they capture a knight then they tie him to his horse and burn them both alive. They plant bodies on spears and do other things which are so despicable that they do not bear utterance.”

  Despite his own words, while we ate he gave me savage examples of the men we would be fighting. They seemed as fanatical as the followers of Islam. This crusade, however, looked as though it might stand a chance of success for the King of Poland, Jogaila, had joined forces with the Grand Duke of Lithuania. Both were sworn enemies but it appeared, from the knight’s words, that they had put aside their differences to finally rid Lithuania of the last of the pagans. The cynic in me wondered what would happen when the pagans were eliminated. Would the two fight over the carcass that would be Lithuania? I did not worry about that for the money we would be paid was more than enough to stave off disaster. I would be able to give Eleanor ninety pounds immediately and the promise of the rest would ease her mind.

  Henry Bolingbroke came over to me before he retired for the night. “I know you will leave early but come and speak with me before you do. You trained me well, Will Strongstaff, I too am an early riser.” He waved a dismissive hand at his household knights all of whom were enjoying a good drink. “These young bloods will have thick heads and bleary eyes on the morrow.”

  Despite the lateness of the hour, Tom was still awake when I entered the chamber. John looked apologetic, “I tried to get him to sleep, lord, but…”

  I smiled. Since I had been at home, I had experienced the difficulty of getting a child to sleep. Eleanor managed it easily but they knew how to manipulate me. “Never fear, John, it is not your fault. You get to bed and I will deal with this rebel.”

  “I am no rebel, father!”

  “And this is no way to get me to take you to war.” I had already decided that the pagans of Lithuania were too dangerous to risk my son. “You have to learn to obey all those above you and that includes John.”

  He lowered his voice, “But he is just a squire!”

  I lowered my voice, “Aye, and you are beneath him, Roger of Chester and all of my men at arms and archers.” I rubbed my chin, “I suppose that Cedric the Swineherd might take orders from you, in the fullness of time, but… let us see. So, why did you want to wait up to see me?”

  “Where are you going to fight?”

  I was impressed by the speed of his mind. I was also aware that John was listening too, “I take my men on a crusade to the Baltic. It is in the north and is a cold and inhospitable place.”

  “And I go too?”

  I shook my head and kissed his forehead, “No, for you are too young. The work will be hard and I need John to watch my back and not wipe the snotty nose of my son!” I saw his disappointment. “Tom, I will be away for six months. While I am away you eat, you grow, you practise and when I return, if you have grown enough, then I will take you the next time I travel to war.” I lifted his chin so that I could see his eyes, “Good enough?”

  He gave me a wan smile, “Aye, father, and I will work!”

  I rose early and while John and Tom packed our bags I went down to meet with Henry. He was speaking with the Teutonic knight. As I approached, the Earl waved away the knight. “Sit, William. Von Plettengburg’s words did not put fear in your heart?”

  “If I thought these savages could capture me then I might be afeared. I have good men and we have mail. From what the knight told me these savages are fanatic but do not wear mail.”

  He smiled, “Good. It is why I have you here now and not my young bloods. They blanched when he told them. They will fight but they do not have your confidence. I hope that your experience will put steel in their backs.”

  “I will try.”

  “Will, do not put yourself down. You are a knight. I elevated you. None of my men are bannerets. All are equal. When we return, I hope to give you the manor I promised you and with it shall come a banner.”

  A banner meant a larger manor with more coin. However, I would not anticipate a quick reward. I had waited some time for the knighthood. Both King Richard and the Earl, his cousin, had promised me a knighthood but it had been as a lure to keep me loyal.

  “I have a manor in mind, Weedon, not far from my castle at Northampton. There is no lord there yet for the village belongs to a monastery in Normandy.” He smiled, “You will be pleased to know that I have spoken to my cousin, the King, about this and he is in agreement. Because there is no lord of the manor, we cannot use the men of the village to fight for us. We cannot tax them for they answer to the Abbot of Bec-Hellouin. As you can imagine that does not sit well with either myself or the King. We have a plan which should bring the manor back into English hands. The King has his clerks creating the legal documents so that when we return you will be able to build a hall there and we can take the coin that goes to France for our coffers.”

  “Will the Abbot not object?”

  “They can object. They own the village and the properties but not the people. My cousin and his wife are clever. This plan was conceived by Queen Anne. We use our minds to take what should be ours. I benefit as does the King.” He smiled at me. “You should be pleased. The two youths you trained are now working together.”

  “I am pleased, lord, but I am no farmer.”

  “He laughed, “Farming? I should think not! Any man can be a farmer. You are a warrior and you will take this village and make it ours once more. There are more than fifty houses and that means they have a hundred men, at the very least. You will train them so that in times of war we can use them. Up to now they have tilled their fields and enjoyed the peace of England. There is a price to peace and they must begin to pay it.” He handed me a parchment. “This gives you the authority
to build a manor house. The King does not wish a castle but you are allowed to make the hall defensible. When we return then the documents for you to tax the people will be in place. You will need a clerk and the King will find one for you. He will be in place at my castle when we return. Your star is rising, William. The son of a sword for hire is destined for greatness and the King and I will be your sponsors!”

  Chapter 2

  When I gave Eleanor the ninety pounds and told her of Weedon I thought she would burst. “I have married the best of husbands! When all seems dark, he comes back with a golden goose!”

  I held up my hand, “Let us not spend the money just yet. The King has to put the legal niceties in place first. I have, first, to go to war.”

  She nodded, “And it gives me six months to find a reeve who can run these farms here at Stony Stratford. I have a man in mind! “Husband,” she embraced me, “we will build a hall so fine that the King and Queen themselves could stay with us!” From then, until the time we left, my wife was like a whirlwind. She was up before me and retired after me. She had had everything taken from her and she would not let that happen again. She saw, in this, the hand of God and she would not spurn his generosity.

  I had much to do. It would take upwards of seven days to travel the two hundred miles to the port on the northeast coast of England. I was honest with John and my men. I told them of the pagans and they were philosophical about the matter.

  Stephen the Tracker spoke for them all, “We are doing God’s work and he will give strength to our arms, lord. I fear no hairy arsed barbarian. With our arrows and your men at arms, we will break their spirits and their bodies so that they will not get close enough to us to burn us on our horses!”

  Roger and my men were all of the same opinion. They were Englishmen and it was the pagans who had to fear us. They busied themselves carefully packing their weapons. My archers made as many arrows as they could and bought spare bow strings. They carried spare heads and would fit them to the shaft when they saw our enemies. They had three main types. There was the heavy war bodkin, the needle bodkin and the swallowtail. If we were fighting men without mail then they would use the swallowtail. It made a terrible wound which would bleed. My men at arms all prepared the two or three weapons each of them would take. They chose the horses from my stable. I would take a palfrey, Blaze, as well as my courser, Jack. We had ten sumpters for our baggage. Henry Bolingbroke either had to have greater financial resources than I thought or he hoped that we would profit in the crusade for the cost of the ships would be exorbitant.

  I planned our route carefully. We could pass by Northampton on the first day and that would enable me to pass through Weedon. It was but a slight detour north. We would spend our first night ay Medeltone Mowbray. I vaguely knew the lord of the manor there. He had been at the Battle of Radcot Bridge. Then we would push on to Ollerton. I knew no one there but the alternative was to take a deviation and head east to Lincoln and stay with Old Tom. I knew not what disruption we might find on the old Roman Road North and so I would forego that pleasure. Our next stop would be York. I hoped to see Peter the Priest. I hoped he still lived for he had, along with Red Ralph, made me the man I was. After that, I was in unknown territory. The Sherriff of York was a political man, Sir James Pickering was no friend of the King, for he had been Speaker of the House and participated in the persecution of the King’s friends. He was, however, a friend of Henry Bolingbroke. I would be welcomed and I would be able to receive assistance to travel the last sixty odd miles to Hart-le-pool.

  Tom ran off the day we left. He was angry that he would not be able to come. He had promised that he would work hard to become big enough but he was still a child. My decision not to take him was vindicated. “Fear not, husband. He will return and I will counsel him!” My wife was practical. From her, there were no tears. She had much to do for we had a new manor and when I returned then she would move the family there. That needed preparation. She would deal with Tom in her own inimitable style.

  Weedon was but a few hours from my home. It was a neat village. It looked to be a number of small holdings with a large garth which looked like a church farm. For a village, it had a fine church with a bell tower. The house attached to the church was a grand one. It was bigger than the one at Stony Stratford and we would not need to build a hall. The road through the village was cobbled. It was prosperous. As we watered our horses at the trough the priest and his assistant came from the church to speak to me. One looked well fed to the point of corpulence while the other was lean and young.

  The corpulent priest addressed me, “Can we help you, my lord?”

  I smiled, “We serve the Earl of Northampton and we are travelling north on his business. We stopped to water our horses.”

  “This village belongs to the Abbey of Bec in Normandy, lord. It is not the Earl of Northampton’s fief.” The priest sounded almost indignant that we should be using his water. I noticed that he had a French accent.

  I nodded amiably as Blaze slurped more water, “And yet this is English water come from a village in England. Do you deny us the right to water?”

  I saw the first flicker of fear in the priest’s eyes, “No, lord. You are more than welcome to the water. We are a Christian community. And, as you say, you are passing through.” He made the sign of the cross, “Go with God.”

  “Thank you, father.” I did not tell him our purpose. He was in for a rude shock when the King’s edict reached him. His village was about to become part of England once more. We headed up the road for the long journey to York.

  I did not know York well. We were admitted through the gates of the city and we headed towards the keep. It was on a high mound overlooking the river. The tower was a round donjon and it now looked old fashioned but the walls around the city were amongst the strongest I had ever seen. Henry Bolingbroke had given me a parchment with his seal and that of the Bishop of Hereford. It asked all churchmen and lords to grants us accommodation as we were doing the Lord’s work. The Sherriff was in London and the castellan was happy to accommodate us. There were just eighteen of us for we had not brought servants.

  As the horses were taken away, I said, “An old comrade of mine, Peter the Priest, came to York some twelve years since. Have you heard of him?”

  He rubbed his chin, “The name Peter sounds familiar. There is a Peter who runs an almshouse for maimed warriors. It is on this side of the river by the Lendel Bridge.”

  I left Roger to see to my men and took John up the river to the almshouse. There were many almshouses in large cities and towns. Run by churches, they were for the poor and the old. They were not particularly pleasant places to live but the people who lived in them faced either starvation on the streets or a roof over their head and gruel twice a day. The almshouse was not large. It was also close to the river. I knew that the Ouse flooded frequently. As we neared the door, it opened and I saw Peter the Priest. I recognised him straight away. He had aged and lost all of his hair but he still had the build of a warrior. He wore a simple brown shift. I watched as he emptied a bucket of what looked like night soil into the river.

  He did not hear me approach, “The Peter the Priest I knew would have walked downstream to do that! How things have changed!”

  He turned and put down the bucket. He wiped his hands on his shift, “Will!” I saw his eyes pass up and down me. He saw the spurs and bowed, “My lord!”

  I walked up to him and embraced him, “None of that. I am still the same Will you trained to be a warrior!” I spread my arms, “I see you are now doing God’s work.”

  He nodded, “I would invite you in but a man died yesterday and the smell of death still hangs on the air.” He looked at John.

  I said, “This is John, my squire. John, this is Peter the Priest, one of the best warriors with whom I ever fought.”

  “Those days are long gone.”

  The sun was setting, “Can you spare some time to talk to an old friend?”

  He nodded, “
Aye, but first I must feed my charges. There is an alehouse yonder, it is called ‘The Saddle’. The landlord, Alf, is an old soldier. He serves good ale and hearty food.”

  “Then we will hie hither and wait for you.”

  The landlord was, indeed, an old soldier. He had lost all of the fingers on his left hand in some long forgotten battle and the scar down his face ruined any looks he might have once had but he seemed happy enough and I chatted to him as we awaited Peter. I learned that Peter lived like a Celtic priest. He had spent all of his money from his days as a soldier to build the almshouse and relied on the charity of locals to keep it going. Alf shook his head, “He gets nothing from the church or the city. It is a shame.” He held up his maimed hand, “If I had lost my whole hand, I might need old Peter’s help. I do what I can for him, my lord. It is little enough but any food which is left over goes to him and we give him the slops from the ale. I will fetch food when Peter arrives.”

  I pushed over some coins, “Here is coin for the food and the ale and a little more to keep him in ale for a while after I leave. When I return, I will fetch some more.”

  “Return, lord?”

  I nodded, “We are bound on a crusade to the Baltic.”

  He tried to push the coins back to me, “Then this will be free. You do God’s work!”

  I shook my head, “We are paid and I will take no man’s charity. Take it, Alf, lest you offend me.”

  “Aye, lord. You are a rarity. Most knights take what they can and then some more. I can see that Peter had an effect on you too.”

  Peter looked weary when he entered and I saw that, close up, he was a little thinner than he had once been. His face lit up in a smile as we toasted each other. The food was brought and he forced me to tell him of my life since we had parted. Every so often he would stop eating and clutch his cross. He would shake his head and say, “The Good Lord works in a mysterious way.”

  When I had finished and told him of my quest he nodded approvingly, “That is good. You do God’s work and repay him for the bounty he has brought you.”