by Griff Hosker
Return of the Knight
Book 2 in the
Border Knight Series
By
Griff Hosker
Published by Sword Books Ltd 2017
Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Prologue
The circumstances of our departure from Sweden were not the ones I would have chosen. We had been virtually thrown out of the country by Bishop Albert. We had served his purpose and helped him to create an Empire. We had defeated the barbarians and brought Christianity to the Estonians. I had left behind friends I had had since that day at Arsuf when my father had died and my world had changed. However, for all of that I could not have been happier as we sailed south through ever warmer waters. I had saved and married Lady Margaret, the widow of a German knight who had been duped out of her fortune by an unscrupulous knight. I had challenged him to combat but he had been a knight without honour. He had refused and Bishop Albert had ejected us from Sweden. My wife was penniless but I was not. I was a sword for hire and my men and I had made coin in the wars against the pagans in the cold Baltic.
Now we were heading south. Sir Philip of La Flèche was the grandson of the man who had followed my great grandfather, the first Earl of Cleveland. King John might have taken all of my lands in the valley of the Tees but La Flèche was still mine. We had no idea what we would find there. All that I knew was that Sir Philip was loyal to me and my family and for that I was grateful. My aunt had sent me a letter, shortly before we had left Sweden, in which she told me that King John had lost Anjou, Maine and Brittany. Poitou still belonged to his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine. His young nephew, Arthur, Duke of Brittany had claimed the estates his Uncle Richard had left him. King Richard’s death had now given my most implacable enemy great power. I had decided to serve this twelve-year-old who had the backing of Philip of France. As old Edward, one of my father’s faithful warriors had said once, ‘You roll the dice Master Thomas and make the best of what they show. You do not make your world, it makes you. That is how you become a man.’
I was now that man. I had hardened warriors with me, I had my squire from the Holy land, William, now knighted, ten men at arms and ten archers. We were not a large number but there were no finer warriors anywhere. As the mouth of the Loire hove into view I knew that I was throwing the dice. I had a manor and, one day, I would sit in a castle in Stockton. That was some way off but I was determined. John Lackland would not defeat me.
The Road to Treachery
Chapter 1
I had had word that Sir Philip held La Flèche for me. How would the young Duke of Brittany view me? The nearer we came to La Flèche the more worried I became. I was now a married man. I had a wife and her women to consider. If it was just my men that I had to worry about then I would not be concerned. While King Richard had been alive then I had had hope that he would return and undo the wrongs done by his brother. Now that John was King my hopes were undone. My fate lay in the hands of a twelve-year-old boy.
On the last part of the voyage south I had written a letter to my aunt who still lived in Stockton with her husband Sir Richard. He had proved an unlikely benefactor. He had been appointed by Prince John but had sympathised with me. The castle was gone. It had been destroyed on the orders of John Lackland. The hall remained and so long as it stood I still had a home to which I could return. I told my aunt my news and where I was. It did not matter if others knew. I was hiding no longer. For the first time in my young life I would be fighting for a cause in which I believed, the restoration of my family’s lands.
La Flèche had grown since the Empress Matilda had first given it to my great grandfather, the Warlord. Much of that was to do with Sir Leofric who had been the first castellan. His son and his grandson had served us well. I knew little about Sir Philip. He had been an ocean away when I was growing up. When we tied up I took Fótr and Robert of La Flèche with me. My man at arms had come to me from this manor and would be my guide.
“Sir William, have the chests and horses landed while I go to the castle. Captain I have a letter for you to take to Stockton. When I return, I will pay you for your troubles.”
They both gave a slight bow. My wife and her ladies came on deck, “Do we not go with you, too, husband?”
“I believe that we will be welcome here but, until I am certain, I would not risk my most precious possession, and that is you.”
“Husband, I am made of sterner stuff than you imagine.”
I smiled, “Then supervise Sir William so that our goods are landed safely.”
She nodded and Robert led me through the small town to the castle. There had been a gate from the quay into the town. Now we crossed a large and spacious square to a gate in the curtain wall of the castle. This was well designed. An ancient sentry stood on guard there. My livery made him wrinkle his brow. He did not recognise it. My great grandfather and grandfather had ridden beneath the wolf standard. I rode with the yellow gryphon. I was not certain if my father had ever visited here. He did, however, recognise Robert. He grinned, “My old friend! I thought you long dead.”
“No, although I have travelled far and seen many dead I have survived. This is Sir Thomas of…” He hesitated.
I smiled, “I know, Robert, this is hard for us all. I am Sir Thomas formerly of Stockton. I am the heir of the Warlord. Is Sir Philip at home? I would speak with him.”
“Of course, my lord. Now I recognise the surcoat. Forgive me. When I saw Robert, I should have known. I will take you to him.” He led us into the gatehouse and then the inner ward. The keep was a solidly built square one. It was at the far end of this triangular castle. The outer wall joined the town wall. La Flèche had a wall on three sides and a river on the fourth. The sentry banged on the door of the great hall and then opened it.
He did not get the chance to speak for Sir Philip recognised my livery, “You must be Sir Thomas! Welcome to your home! Lady Ruth wrote to me and told me of your troubles. Know you that I am aware of my duties. This castle and the manor are yours.”
I clasped his arm. Sir Philip was not just an old man, he was an old and sick man. He was grey. I suddenly realised that I knew next to nothing about him. “I hope that we will not inconvenience your wife and family.”
He shook his head, “I have no family. My wife died in childbirth twenty years ago and… well I am content to live alone for the time the good lord allows me. I confess that I was pleased to hear that you were coming …” he looked at Fótr and Robert. He wished to speak to me privately.
I nodded, “Fótr, take Robert and have our goods fetched from the ship.” As they left I smiled sadly at the knight, “I fear your quiet little world will be upset. There are half a dozen women with us.”
He closed the door, “I am happy that this old castle will have a woman’s touch. My wife only lived here a year. This is furnished for my mother. I am dying, lord. That is why I was happy to hear of your arrival. This belongs to your family. Since the death of King Richard, I have feared for our security. This is a rich manor. It is a jewel. Young Arthur is well advised but he has allied with the French and we have never trusted them. King John wishes this land to
be returned to him. He holds on to Normandy and his other domain Aquitaine, but betwixt lies Brittany, Anjou and Maine. There will be war and…” he shook his head, “I will fight but I fear that my sickness will not give me a noble end such as your father’s.”
My father’s death had been glorious but it had cost us all. “What is the sickness, my lord? Cannot it be cured by the healers?”
He shook his head, “It is something within me which eats at me. The healers have told me they can do nothing. I have some aqua vita which the monks make and that helps me to sleep.” He looked at me and smiled. It was a sad smile, “You will be happy here, lord. It is a good castle and a comfortable home. I will move to the west tower, with your permission.”
“I would not put you from your quarters.”
“My chambers are too big and I like the west tower. It looks to the sea and I often go there to watch the sunset. That is where I shall die. And now I will fetch my steward. Sorry, your steward.” He went to the door and shouted, “Geoffrey!”
A neat little man appeared. He was in his thirties and looked a little young to be a steward, “Yes my lord?”
“This is Sir Thomas of La Flèche. He is the lord of the manor. Have my things moved to the west tower.”
“Yes lord. You are most welcome, Sir Thomas.”
“There will be myself and another knight. We have wives and there are four women with us. Some of my men at arms and archers are wed. Are there rooms for them?”
Geoffrey beamed, “We can do better than rooms, my lord. We have a row of small houses just inside the wall of the inner ward. We keep them for the workers who come in the summer to pick the grapes. They stand empty for most of the year. There are six of them. Will that suffice?”
“It will indeed!”
For the first time in a long time it looked like things were going my way and the next few days were hectic as we all adjusted to our new life. We had a home and for most of us that was the first time.
I rode, at the end of that first week, with Sir Philip and Sir William to Anjou. Arthur, Duke of Brittany was there and we had to ensure that my title was approved. I did not want a repetition of Stockton. As we rode Sir Philip told me what he knew of the young Duke.
“He was King Richard’s choice of heir. The King neither liked nor trusted his brother. You, of all people knew that. His mother, Constance, was and is his adviser. She ruled with him in Brittany until she was abducted by the Earl of Chester. He has an elder sister, Eleanor the Maid of Brittany. She is much sought after for if anything happens to the Duke then Brittany is hers. The Prince’s advisers are now French. I do not like that but it protects him from John Lackland.” I smiled for the knight could not bring himself to accord John his title. “There are some good men. William des Roches of Le Mans was trusted by King Richard and there are others. I would think that your counsel would be appreciated.”
“Mine?”
Any man who has advised the King of Jerusalem and the King of Sweden is a man who can be trusted.”
As luck would have it we had arrived at a most propitious time. The Duke had summoned his barons to a council of war. Before we had left part of me wondered why he had not sent for Sir Philip but the journey to Angers had shown me why. He was a sick man and the Duke’s advisers must have known that. Sir Philip’s name gained us entry. There would not be enough room in the castle for us to stay there but Sir Philip had enough contacts in the busy port to get us good rooms at an inn.
The Duke was holding court in a small chamber off the main hall. The three of us joined the barons, earls and counts who milled around the Great Hall. We stood apart. A clerk came over to us. He had the tonsure of a monk. “The Duke has asked me to make a record of those who are here.”
“I am Sir Thomas of La Flèche, this is Sir Philip, my castellan and Sir William. He is my household knight.”
He scribbled something on the wax tablet. I guessed it was our names. Then he looked up, “Were you the Sir Thomas from Stockton?” He took a step back. “Did you not kill the Bishop of Durham?”
I nodded, “I did and I have been absolved by Bishop Albert of Uppsala. I have sinned but I am now forgiven. I have done my penance and helped to bring God to the godless.”
Although he looked relieved he still looked at me warily. “I will tell his grace that you are here.”
“I heard you had killed the Bishop but not that you have been absolved.” Sir Philip chuckled, “I thought that one was going to make a puddle.” He began coughing and I saw flecks of blood in the cloth he held in his hand. “My lord, I shall sit down. I do not think that the Duke will need my advice. My time is past.”
Other knights came and went and then I was summoned. Sir William said, “I will wait with Sir Philip. He does not look well.” My old squire was a thoughtful man.
When I was admitted there were four men in the room. One was a scribe and I recognised the Duke by his youth. He had no beard. He was a boy. The other two were knights, one looked to be older than I was but not by much. The other was much older and, I know not why, but he looked French. It was the older man who spoke, “I am Raymond, the Comte de Senonche. I am the adviser to the Duke. This is William des Roches, lord of Le Mans.” William de Roches nodded. I got the impression that he was scrutinising me. I did not like it.
I bowed, “I am here, Prince Arthur, to claim back the manor which belonged to my father.” I was aware that I could be given the same reception as I had received from Prince John.
Instead of dismissing me, Arthur, Duke of Brittany smiled and stood. He held out his hand, “It is yours and glad am I that I can give it to you. Both of us have had something taken away from them which was theirs by right. Yours was the County of Cleveland and mine was England and Normandy! Before these two august nobles I say that when I attain the throne of England you shall have Cleveland returned to you.” He sat down and gave a self-deprecating smile. “Of course, first I have to defeat my enemies closer to home.”
I liked the young man immediately. He was innocent and untutored.
The Comte de Senonche did not like the answer, “Quite, your grace. My liege, Philip, King of France has promised his full support to the Duke and you have come at a propitious moment. We are about to retake those parts of Anjou and Maine which foolish supporters of my Uncle have declared are not part of the Duke’s land!”
“I will serve in any capacity I can, your grace.”
William des Roches spoke for the first time. He was most definitely Norman. “You do not do yourself justice, my lord. Your name and reputation precede you. Was not the King of Jerusalem just a little older than his Grace when you helped him? From what I hear it was others who lost the kingdom and your name, along with the Master of the Hospitallers were the only two to emerge with any honour. And now you have returned, successfully, from the Baltic Crusade. His Grace would do well to have you as a leader.”
The Frenchman shifted uneasily in his seat, “Let us not be hasty des Roches.”
Prince Arthur was not yet a lord who played games. He was honest and spoke from the heart. “I agree with the lord of Le Mans. We need a leader like Sir Thomas. We all heard of his heroics at Arsuf. His name alone will strike fear into our foes. I leave you and Sir William to work out our strategy. I thank you again, my lord.”
We were dismissed and the two of us left. Sir William put his arm around my shoulder. I felt uncomfortable but I decided to say nothing. I was in foreign waters. When we were safely out of earshot he said, “The Prince is right. There are many enemies here and some feign friendship. I do not trust the French. Philip sees this as a way to increase his kingdom at England’s expense.”
“And yet you work with them.”
“You will discover in this land of intrigue that you have to play the game of kings and princes. The trick is to keep one step ahead.”
“You have a plan?”
He nodded, “Saint-Suzanne lies to the north west of Le Mans. The lord of the manor is Godfrey de Cla
irmont and he has declared for John. We could take that and then move on to Ballon which is to the north east of Le Mans and guards the border. With those secure then we would have a ring of castles which would protect the north east of Anjou.”
It made sense but I did not know what sort of distances were involved. I needed to see a map. “Have you maps?”
“You can read them?”
“I can read them.”
“Then come to my chambers I will show you them.”
“First I need to see my knights.”
When we reached the Great Hall Sir Philip had returned to our rooms and so William accompanied us. He laid out the maps and then explained his strategy. The Lord of Le Mans knew his business and all was carefully planned. I saw that we could meet at Le Mans and that was a day’s ride from La Flèche. Le Mans was the perfect base from which to launch our attack. We left feeling satisfied.
As we headed back to our rooms William said, “Sir Philip has worsened. We should take him back to La Flèche as soon as possible. I am no healer but he is close to death. He should have the dignity of dying in his own bed.”
“We will leave in the morning. We have no need to stay here.” While we had been waiting in the Great Hall the three of us had noticed the huddles of men speaking in hushed tones. To me it had all the marks of a conspiracy. I did not like it. I had had enough of that in the Holy Land. I knew that I would have to make compromises. I had a wife now and men to lead. My aim was to regain my valley. To do that I would sleep with the devil if I had to.
All the way back to La Flèche I worried about Sir Philip. It was as though whatever was eating him had suddenly began to devour him even faster. As we rode he spoke of his father and the grandfather he had known all too briefly. Sir Leofric was something of a legend. My father had been in awe of him and his father had spoken at great length of how Sir Leofric had helped to make him the knight he had become. He had had humble beginnings and yet had achieved greatness. Sir Philip felt that he had let his blood down. He had done nothing of note.