by Griff Hosker
Godwin lifted the stone on to the thrower. They had had the time to select similar sized stones which would make accuracy better. They were the size of a man’s head. I could still see the marks by the road where they had practised. He had four men with him. Once it was loaded he shouted, “Pull!” The five of them launched the stone. It sailed over the line of shields. There were riders to the east of the road and we saw the stone hit a horse.
I gave Godwin a wry smile, “A little less power perhaps.”
“Sorry, my lord. We were a little eager.”
He loaded another one and I saw that the French had reacted. Orders were being shouted. Crossbowmen left the shelter of the shields ready to send bolts at the men at arms. It was a mistake for David of Wales and his archers hated crossbows and those who operated them. Not one bolt reached my walls. They had no protection and they died.
“Pull!”
This time the men at arms used less power and the stone smashed into a shield. As the man fell he pulled another two men with him and my archers managed to send a dozen arrows into the exposed men. The shields closed as another stone struck. This one must have hit the soldier’s shoulder. It took his head and spun off taking a mounted man from his horse. My men’s accuracy was rewarded for the archers slew two exposed men at arms and knocked a knight from his saddle. The French decided to choose that spot as their place of attack. They risked losing more men as their column progressed down the road south. That too was a mistake. They did not know that we only had two stone throwers. Had they kept moving down the road, then they would have been out of range.
Their movement did throw off my men at arms briefly while they adjusted their thrower but the movement also allowed my archers to slay some of their men as they hurried forward with the hurdle they were using as a bridge. They were hampered by the muddy ground and by the time they had reached the edge of the moat twelve men lay dead or wounded.
“Concentrate on the ram. My archers will deal with the bridge.”
Until the hurdle bridge was in place the ram was a sitting target. It would not move. The first stone was short but managed to hit two men who were trying to move a hurdle. The second third and fourth stones were more effective. By the tenth rock the ram was broken. Its front wheels had been shattered and the roof had gone. A knight sounded a horn and the men withdrew out of range of the stone thrower and our arrows. I saw a hurried council of war.
“Well done, Godwin of Battle. Fótr, fetch ale. These men deserve it.”
As my squire ran off my men at arms began to repair the stone thrower. Wear and tear caused a deterioration in performance. They used the delay to make sure they would be as effective when they began again. I took the opportunity to go to the west tower. I saw that they had been as effective. The ground around the road was filled with bodies but the ram had not been damaged. It lay too far away. “The ram to the east has been destroyed. It seems whoever commands this assault has more sense.”
Sir William nodded, “He is cautious but he lost many men to the thrower and our arrows. What will they do?”
“If I was in command I would wait until night. Our archers would have to release blindly and they could bring up crossbows. We will see.”
By the time I returned to the west tower the men had had their ale and were watching the French. “What are they doing, David of Wales?”
“I think they are licking their wounds and making another camp further east.” He pointed. “It seems to me they are trying to make some sort of pathway through the fields. They may try to attack further south.”
I nodded. I now regretted not having two more stone throwers built. Although the town gates were lower they would still have been effective deterrents to an attack there. The men on my walls could support them. The afternoon was an anti-climax. We just watched each other. The bodies of their dead lay before them and I knew that their leaders would be regretting that. We had lost none and yet the French attack had cost them a ram and over fifty dead men. The French would have poor morale. I knew that David of Wales was right. I sent orders to have two men out of every three sent for food and rest. I also commanded pots of fire to be prepared. When night came and they renewed their attack I would make night into day.
I also sent William and our squires for rest. I walked the walls to speak with those who remained on guard. They were confident. Godfrey of Lancaster pointed to some of the bodies. One appeared to be moving, “Look Sir Thomas, rats are already feasting on the corpses. No matter what the outcome of this battle it is the rats who will win.”
“It is always the way. You will be in command here this night. They will attack. I intend to have pots of fire so that our archers can send fire arrows across the moat. You have the ladder poles?”
He pointed to them. They were close to the wall. “Do not worry Sir Thomas they will find this a hard nut to crack. The ground at the base of the wall is slippery and wet. If they do manage to get a ladder against the wall it will sink in the mud and this is a high wall.”
He was right. There was an optimum height to use ladders. They had to be high enough to reach the top of the wall and strong enough to bear the weight of men climbing them. I had seen ladders break beneath the weight of mailed men. Fótr came to relieve me. “We have eaten, lord, and her ladyship has food ready for you.”
Godfrey was also relieved and we both headed for our food. His would be in the warrior hall. I passed the kitchen as I entered the keep. The cooks had fresh bread being prepared. We had enough wheat to last a three-month siege. We also had rye, barley and oats when that ran out. The French, in contrast, would have to get their bread from further afield. The longer the siege went on the harder it would be for them. Already the weather was becoming colder. It never froze in this part of the world but with the cold would come more rain and conditions for the besiegers could only worsen.
Margaret joined me to eat. She knew better than to talk of the siege. “Samuel is a delight. Marguerite is lucky. She is not using a wet nurse. She feeds him herself and he is a hungry bairn. I hope I am as lucky with our child.”
“You are well?”
She laughed, “I can see that you are unfamiliar with the world of women, husband.”
I nodded. “My world is the world of warriors and war. I left the world of women when I had seen ten summers. I am learning wife but you shall teach me.”
“Good. Then I am well. I feel the baby within and that is good. Sometimes I have minor problems but they should not concern you. They are normal. I make water more than I used to and I eat differently but if there is aught amiss then know that I will tell you, I promise.”
“Good then I am satisfied.” I pushed away the empty platter and emptied my goblet of wine. “I should warn you that the French will probably attack this night. It may be noisy. I am not worried about you for you have endured worse but Lady Marguerite may be disturbed.”
“She is stronger than you think. Ridley the Giant’s wife, Anya, is with her and she is a strong woman.” She put her hand on mine. “If you are to stand on the wall all night then get some rest. I promise to call you when you are needed.”
I did as I was bid. It was good to take off my mail. I now enjoyed the services of a man servant when in the castle and Henry helped me to disrobe. He promised to awaken me although in truth I barely slept. When I woke it was still light but the sun was already dipping in the west and the east was gloomy. The walls were fully manned. My men had all had some rest and they had had food. I was greeted by smiles and I heard the banter of confident men.
Godwin of Battle nodded east, “They are getting ready my lord. They have been moving around since it began to darken. We have fireballs that we can light but I fear they may weaken the machine.”
“I know. It cannot be helped. Just do your best. It may be that you and your men may serve us better on the fighting platform. Discourage them from crossing the moat, if you can. If they can put a bridge across at more than one place then we might be in troubl
e.”
David of Wales was equally worried. “We have fire arrows, lord but they only work if they strike something which burns. Bodies do not.”
I pointed to the wrecked ram. It was made of wood. “Light that and we will have our own beacon behind them.”
“We can do that, lord. I will take my archers to the walls. This will be too far away from the attack point.”
“I will come with you. Godwin, take charge here. I want the bridges destroying as they build them. If David can light the ram then you will not need your fireballs.”
“We could send a couple over to help him lord and then use stones.”
“Have shields ready. When it is dark then expect the bolts from their crossbows.”
The ditch was over a hundred paces from the moat. The ram was invitingly close to the moat. If Godwin and David could fire it we would drive the French further away from the stone thrower. The men in the town would be able to bring their bows to bear. I was not wearing my helmet. None of my men were. We needed good visibility. If our enemies made our walls they would be below us and we should not need them. I would rely on my arming cap, coif and ventail.
“They come, lord!”
I nodded, “Are you ready David of Wales?”
“We are. If they think the light is not good enough for archery they are wrong.”
As if to prove the point he pulled and sent an arrow into the head of the sergeant at arms who was exhorting his men to keep a straighter line. His shield had protected his body but not his head. The result was that the line of advancing men slowed and the shields came higher. As they did so they began to slip and slide on the muddy ground which led to the moat. The men behind were easier targets and Godwin sent a stone to crash amongst them. The hurdle bridge they were carrying was shattered. I knew that they had more but each one damaged meant one less bridge across the moat. The light had almost gone when they finally reached the edge of the moat.
“Godwin, send a fireball at the ram! David of Wales, light the sky!”
His men had been waiting for the order. The flaming fireball was like a meteor. Godwin had judged the range perfectly and the ram ignited. David of Wales’ arrows accelerated the burn and it became a beacon. They then switched to ordinary arrows as they sent them at the men carrying the hurdles. Godwin’s stone thrower added to the destruction. We heard men dying. There were splashes as bodies fell into the moat. More hurdles were destroyed but sheer weight of numbers meant that eventually they succeeded in putting a bridge across. Men ran with ladders. Godwin had to adjust the angle of his stone thrower and then find the range. David of Wales and his men did their best but men still managed to get across.
“Godfrey, are you ready with the ladder poles?”
“Aye lord.”
I drew my sword. I did not have my shield. Instead I would use my mailed left hand as a weapon. I had a dagger and that would be as effective as a shield fighting a man who was below me. Godwin and his men could easily see the bridges and, once they had adjusted their aim, they began to target them. The light of the burning ram helped them and, one by one, they demolished them until just one remained. As it happened that was the closest one to us. The French had got some ladders across.
I heard cries of, “St. Denis!” and “King Philip!” as knights exhorted men to brave our arrows and to cross.
Godfrey and his men at arms used their ladder poles to push the ladders from the walls. The first two were not a problem as there were just two men on them and they were pushed away easily. As more French men poured across the diminishing bridges and our archers tried to kill as many as they could, so they began to ascend in greater numbers.
Godfrey shouted, “Come to me! This one is laden!”
I saw that the French had managed to get five men on a ladder. The first was just two paces from the wall. Dick One Arrow sent an arrow into the shoulder of the man at arms who led them but he was not killed and he still ascended. I saw that there was just one bridge left. If Godwin could destroy that one we had a chance. I joined with Godfrey and pushed the pole. It creaked and it groaned but, as more men joined so the top of the ladder moved away. Once we had momentum on our side it flew. The wounded man at arms fell on top of the ram. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Godwin and his crew ran to us. “I am sorry, my lord, the machine is broken. We can repair it but we thought you might need us!”
He was right. “Spread out! We have one bridge. David of Wales have your men concentrate on those bringing fresh ladders.” Every ladder which fell was shattered. They had a finite number of them. They had a foothold on our walls but we needed them to be discouraged. Johann ran to me, “Lord, Sir William has destroyed the ram on the other wall but there are men across the moat.”
“Tell him that the command is still to hold them!”
“Aye lord.”
This would be a battle of wills. Who would break first? With the added numbers of the stone throwing crew my men at arms were able to throw off more of the ladders. When they fell more than half were shattered. As they were brought back across David of Wales and his archers slew the carriers. We were winning.
Johann, bloody and breathless ran to me, “Lord they have made the walls!”
“Fótr, come with me. The rest stay here and send them hence.”
I ran and followed Johann. The quickest way was down the stairs and across the ward. I saw that men were on the fighting platform. The enemy had a foothold. Edward son of Edgar was leading men at arms from one side and Sir William from the other. They were slaying Frenchmen but more were climbing the ladders to join them. I saw a chance. The stairs came up in the middle of the French men.
“You two, stay behind me. When I make the top one goes to the right and the other to the left.” Even as I spoke a French body was pitched over to crash on the ground. I took the stairs two at a time. I drew my dagger. The French were so concerned with the battle on the wall walk that they did not see me. The first that they knew was when I swept my sword across the legs of the knight who stood at the top. He was wearing chausses but it mattered not. He screamed his way to the ward and I leapt up. I lunged with my dagger into the back of a man at arms as I did so and brought my sword down on the skull of the one fighting Sir William. I was in the middle of the French. I had to get to the wall and stop them from pouring over. I had to rely on Fótr and Johann. They would need to watch my back. Using my dagger and sword in a scissor action I took the head from the warrior before me and I found myself at the wall. I felt a sword hack at my left shoulder. Then there was a scream.
A face rose from the ladder. I rammed my dagger into his mouth. Pain shot up my arm. I had been cut. I dared not look around. They had but one ladder. If we could destroy this ladder then the breach would be ended. I was aware of the clash of steel all around me but I had to concentrate on the ladder. I took in the fact that the ram had been destroyed but a hurdle bridge remained. Ridley the Giant and his crew had joined Sir William and were now making inroads into the French who stood on my wall walk. Until they could kill the intruders I would have to hold off those who tried to ascend. I could not use the ladder pole alone.
I spied the pot of burning coals which the archers had used. I sheathed my sword and my dagger. Using my mail mittens, I lifted the pot. It was hot. I reached the parapet and the heat was almost unbearable. I just pushed and the coals slipped over. I let the pot fall too. The coals struck the knight who was climbing and he threw himself from the ladder in his efforts to stop the burning coals searing his eyes. The pot hit the man at arms who followed him. Their falling bodies cleared the ladder of those ascending and I took my chance. I leaned over and pushed the ladder. Freed from any weight it began to tumble to the side. A crossbow bolt cracked into the wall by my head but I was not deflected from my task. The ladder fell to lie next to my wall. It was not broken and could be reused but they would have to do so while my men used ladder poles to discourage them. Unsheathing my sword, I turned but the la
st of the French was being slain.
“I am sorry, Sir Thomas. We did not manage to push the ladders away.”
“Do not worry, we beat them back. Now I must return to my wall. We are winning! Be strong and we will prevail!” I saw that both Fótr and Johann were besmirched with blood. They were warriors now. “Come, Fótr, back to our wall.”
The cut to my left arm was not serious but it was bleeding. My hands were still feeling the effects of the burning pot but we had still to yield any part of our wall. For me that meant we were winning. Godwin and Godfrey had kept the walls clear. I joined then at the fighting platform.
“Godwin, see if you can repair the stone thrower. If we can destroy that bridge then we have a chance.”
“Aye lord. Come on lads.”
I saw that two of my men at arms lay dead. I had seen three wounded or dying on the other wall. We had fewer men than the French. Despite the number we had slain, they could afford the losses. They were now concentrating on this one ladder. They had men with shields protecting those who crossed it. My archers were not enjoying the success they had before.
Godfrey picked up an axe which had fallen in the attack. “David of Wales, cover me. Peter, son of Richard, hold my legs.” Almost without waiting he went to the parapet and leaned over. Peter son of Richard was almost as broad as Ridley the Giant and he threw his body at Godfrey’s legs. I saw the axe rise and then heard it as it smashed through the wood of the ladder and into the wall. “Pull me back!”
I leaned over as my man at arms was retrieved. Although Godfrey had only managed to break four of the rungs, they were close to the top. They would not be able to use it. Someone on the French side saw that and a horn sounded. The French withdrew. The attack was over. A short while later we heard the same call from the west wall. The French had, briefly, abandoned their attack. “Well done!” Cupping my hands, I shouted, “Geoffrey, have the stewards fetch food and ale for the men on the walls. This is not over yet!”