Gulling The Kings

by Martin Archer

  Peter decided we would find the Von Hildesheim and his Germans faster if we waited and started out after them at the first light of day in the morning when our men would be fully fed and rested. According to the priests who’d done the counting and kept the records for King Otto’s recently hung chancellor, we would be looking for, and fighting, just over two thousand Germans including almost one hundred Teutonic Knights on horseback.

  Finding the Germans was one thing. We would, of course, find them sooner or later. Our real problem was destroying them when we found them—because we had no horses, not a single one, to carry our food and the sharpened stakes, bladed pikes, sacks of caltrops, and such with which we usually fought when we were on foot.

  Without supply horses and wains, we’d have to carry everything on our backs and it would be slow going. Accordingly, we spent the rest of the afternoon deciding what not to take when we marched out of St. Ives in the morning at the crack of dawn. Further weakening our fighting ability was the reality that we needed to leave some of our archers behind to guard the crates of coins and the galleys that had carried us here and our prizes.

  We could have waited, of course, for the Germans to return to their galleys and transports and fought them here at St. Ives. But my father’s lieutenants and I all agreed that was a non-starter—we owed it to our people not to let the Germans wander around devastating Cornwall until they decided to leave.

  Trematon castle was a good example of why we could not wait for the Germans to return to St. Ives. It was built to keep out robbers, not to withstand a determined attack or siege by a proper army; its walls were too low and it had no proper moat, just a muddy trench dug around its walls that fills up with water when it rains. Fortunately it had rained a lot lately.

  To make things worse, the villages and the isolated farms, tin mines, and monasteries between here and the mouth of the Fowey were totally defenceless and were almost certain to be raided for the food that both we and the Germans would desperately need—the difference being that we would buy our food supplies with good coins and do our best to protect the people; the Germans would pillage and kill for theirs as they were already doing.

  Chapter Nine

  We meet the horsemen.

  Dawn seemed to arrive a few seconds after I put my head down to sleep on the floor of one of the village hovels. Actually, I woke up stiff and sore before dawn when an unknown archer shook me awake. He did so just in time—I was dreaming about Beth and Becky. As it was, I barely had time to take a piss and grab a flatbread off one of the cooking fires before I heard the morning horn and somewhere in the distance one of the rowing drums began to beat.

  There were men moving about and pissing and shitting and eating everywhere in the early pre-dawn light. And it wasn’t raining; thank God for that. All in all, it was quite wonderful being here; I love being an archer sergeant.

  We marched out of St. Ives in full battle formation, and rightly so; due to our lack of outriders—there was no telling when we would meet the Germans and how much time we’d have to prepare to fight them when we did. I’m the one who insisted on it, most respectfully of course, and Peter and Henry agreed.

  Of course I insisted on our marching in a battle formation; Uncle Thomas had made much of the need for it when he was putting the learning on us. He’d told us how the Germans had fallen on an unready Roman army marching in a German forest and destroyed them. It was in one the parchments he’d read in the monastery before he’d rescued my father from his plough and they’d gone for archers with King Richard.

  Our march was slow going because we were so heavily burdened but, at least, we were going. Like everyone else, I was carrying my longbow, three quivers heavy with arrows, a land-fighting shield, and a short stabbing sword instead of a dagger because I was a senior sergeant. Most of the men and lower ranking sergeants, however, were either carrying our fearsome long-handled bladed pikes and daggers instead of swords, or carrying extra bales of arrows.

  I was also, of course, wearing my personal long shirt of chain and two wrist knives hidden under the sleeves of my tunic. I was also carrying a small water skin, some bread and cheese, and a very heavy leather sack of caltrops I had to carry on my shoulder most carefully to avoid getting pricked by one of their rusty points.

  ****** George

  The day seemed to go on forever and I was tired and my legs and shoulders were painfully sore before we halted for the night, cooked our bread, and set out our watchmen. Our men slept with their weapons in their fighting ranks in our usual four-sided defensive square that all of our company’s forces were always required to use at night no matter what their size or where their location—so they would wake up in position and ready to instantly fight if there was a surprise attack.

  It had been a disturbing day. Twice we came upon isolated farms with dead people lying about them, some of whom appeared to have been tortured. Our problem was that we had no horses for our outriders to ride out from our main column of marchers to find whatever dangers and ambushes might be lurking ahead of us.

  We did the best we could to avoid walking into an ambush; Peter sent out our fastest runners to walk far ahead of our column and way off to both sides. It was potentially a very dangerous assignment because a man cannot outrun a horse and the Germans had horses—even so, many of the archers were keen to volunteer in an effort to call attention to themselves and gain advancement.

  ******

  Late in the morning on the second day of our march there were cries of alarm and the men around me began pointing to the south. I looked to where they were pointing and saw one of our watch men running as fast as he could run in an effort to reach the safety of our column. A few seconds later I saw why he was running—there was a party of horsemen pursuing him. They were coming up behind him fast; it was immediately clear that he wasn’t going to reach us in time to escape them.

  “Close up and battle line to starboard,” came Peter’s order almost instantly. It was quickly and loudly repeated by all the sergeants and their chosen men.

  We dropped everything and less than a minute later we were in our seven-men-deep fighting formation with our bows strung and our pikes and arrows laid out on the ground next to us. I untied the leather thongs binding my sack of caltrops and waited for the order to scatter them. Men were making similar preparations all around me and using their knives to dig holes in which to anchor the butts of their bladed pikes.

  There was much talking until the sergeants roared their displeasure, and then there was silence except for a few softly muttered curses. When I finished stringing my bow and laying out my weapons, I picked up my bow and walked five paces out into the open area in front of our battle line, my proper place as a senior sergeant.

  As we watched and got ready to fight, the galloping riders caught up to our watchmen and, to everyone’s surprise, went right on past him and he stopped running and pumped his fist in the air enthusiastically. A few moments later we could see why—the riders were wearing archers’ tunics. Horsemen wearing our tunics? It must be some of Uncle Raymond’s men.

  I put down everything I was carrying except for my longbow and began running towards Henry and Peter at the front of the column as fast as I could run. My side was aching and I was out of breath, but I reached Henry and Peter at the head of the column at almost the same time as the riders did.

  There were eight or nine riders, and they were some of Raymond’s horse archers for sure. They had big smiles on their faces as their leader, a three-stripe sergeant, dismounted and knuckled his forehead to acknowledge the two six-stripe lieutenants who stood before him with expectant looks on their faces.

  He and his men, the horse archer sergeant was starting to explain as I joined them, were one of several patrols that had been sent out by Raymond to find us. Their news was quite surprising—the Germans were less than a day away and marching toward us on their way back to St. Ives.

  It made sense. The riders who galloped away when we took St. Ives
and the German transports must have reported our sudden arrival—and the Germans were marching back to St. Ives to try to stop us before we could row away with their coins and transports, just as we were marching from St. Ives to try to stop them before they could destroy more of Cornwall. Our armies were about to collide.

  ****** George

  Peter immediately called his lieutenants and senior sergeants together to talk, all five of us. There was an important question that had to be answered, he told us—“what should we do if the Germans are coming this way and coming fast?”

  There were, we all quickly told each other and agreed, several alternatives.

  One alternative would be to continue our march until we meet the German army and destroy it. If so, we would keep the coins and prizes we took at St. Ives and lose some men, perhaps a lot of men. A second alternative would be to march back to St. Ives and sail away with our prizes. The problem with choosing this option, we all agreed, was that the Germans would then be stranded in Cornwall and continue to rape and pillage the countryside in an effort to feed themselves.

  A third alternative would be to send a couple of Raymond’s riders back to St. Ives with orders to evacuate the coins and everything else except some of the German transports, and stand aside while the Germans march past us to St. Ives and leave in their transports. Then we would march overland to Restormel. If we let that happen, of course, we’d lose a few of the transports we’d taken as prizes but save the lives of the archers who would be lost if we fight the Germans. There are always, we all knew only too well, losses on both sides no matter who wins a battle.

  And finally, it was always possible that the two thousand or so knight-led Germans could defeat our army which now numbered, because some of our men had to be left behind to guard the coins and prisoners, just under one thousand English archers armed with longbows and bladed pikes. Defeat with such favourable odds was so unthinkable that we didn’t even consider it.

  Peter considered our thoughts and recommendations, announced his decision, and began giving orders. One of them was about me.

  “Get back to Lieutenant Raymond as soon as possible,” he told the horse archer sergeant, “and take Senior Sergeant George with you. He knows the situation here and at St. Ives.”

  Chapter Ten

  We meet the Germans.

  I left immediately with the sergeant and one of his horse archers to ride back to Uncle Raymond and the main body of horse archers. My place in the ranks was taken by a one-stripe archer who dismounted with a resigned shrug and handed me the reins to his horse. The rest of the sergeant’s men stayed to act as outriders for the column. Thank God I would no longer have to carry that damn sack of caltrops.

  My new horse was a strong and gelded smooth-riding ambler, just as were the horses of virtually all of our riders including the men with whom I was riding. The horse archers rode amblers almost exclusively because they were the horses most capable of being ridden relatively fast and far for very long periods of time. Indeed, at Uncle Raymond’s insistence, amblers were the only horses the company ever bought and bred. Everything else was sold or traded away. Harold was the same way about our galleys; a design for speed and nothing less than forty oars to a side and two deck castles was the minimum acceptable.

  ****** George

  We saw what looked to be the entire German army marching off to our left towards St. Ives about an hour before the sun completed its passage around the earth and the darkness would start to appear. We promptly circled far out to the right to get around them. Hours later, in the distance, we finally saw the light of the horse archers’ campfires.

  “Coming in; archers coming in,” the archer sergeant called loudly and continuously as we walked our tired horses towards the flickering fires.

  Uncle Raymond greeted us warmly as we slid off our horses and a small crowd gathered to see who we might be and hear our news. I was so sore and tired I could hardly stand.

  “Why George, is that you?” Uncle Raymond exclaimed when he saw me by the light of the campfires and I knuckled my head in salute. “Where did you come from, lad?” he said as he shook my hand and gave me a great manly hug all at the same time.

  “Hello, Uncle Raymond. Yes, it’s me. Peter sent me after your men came in to tell us that the Germans were marching back to St. Ives. He took over when my father had a relapse of his pox and became overbalanced.”

  “The captain’s pox came back? My God. Is it serious? Will he recover?”

  “I think so; at least I hope so. He’s been taken to one of our galleys to rest.”

  “Well, that’s a relief to know, yes it is. Now let’s get some food for you and the lads that brought you in and you can tell me all about it. We’ve got bread and some meat strips we cut off a couple of horses the Germans killed with their damn crossbows.

  “I’m still a bit hungry myself; so I think I’ll sit with you and eat some more while you tell me about the captain and what you found at St. Ives.”

  ******

  I told Uncle Raymond all about what had happened at St. Ives and what Peter had decided to do—send an order back to St. Ives telling our men there to return to return to Restormel with the coins and the German war galleys as prizes, and to take the German galley slaves and what’s left of the village people with them to keep them safe from the returning Germans. My father and the two German priests would go with them.

  Our men at St. Ives were not, however, to take all of the German transports; they were to leave half of them there untouched for the Germans to use to sail home, the worst half. Somewhat similarly, Raymond and his men were ordered to do their best to keep the Germans away from our farms and villages, but to let them march on to St. Ives and leave. Peter, with Henry as his first lieutenant, would try to avoid contact with the Germans and lead the column of archers on foot to Restormel when they were gone.

  “A good decision, I think,” said Uncle Raymond as he poked the embers of his campfire and nodded his head in agreement with Peter's decision. “Better to pass on taking a few foul transports as prizes than lose some of our men in a pointless battle; not that the Germans don’t deserve to be killed, mind you, every one of the murdering bastards.

  “Besides,” he added with a satisfied smile as he worked to stick another piece of horse on the end of his knife so he could burn it, “We’ve got their coins and we still have the relics; so everyone’s going to end up with what they deserve.

  We sat around the fire and talked for hours into the night.

  ****** Lieutenant Peter

  The next day we moved a short distance and went into a battle formation on a gently sloping hill as soon as a couple of horse archers rode in with word of the approaching Germans. According to the horse archers’ sergeant, the main body of Germans was several hours away and would pass close to us on their march back to St. Ives.

  Also according to the horse archers, and it was important, the Germans had men on horseback, almost certainly knights, riding out in front of their marching men. That meant they would soon know where we were positioned, if they didn’t already know. So what would the Germans do? Would they march on past us and go home quietly or would they stop and make a fuss? I couldn’t answer the question, of course, but it concerned me.

  Several hours later my question was answered.

  We watched in silence as the German column came closer and closer and then began slowly moving past us. Its horsemen were walking their horses in front of a great and seemingly disorganized mass of men who were following them on foot. Scattered about in their column were a few wains and horse carts they must have captured from the farms and villages they pillaged along the way.

  Beyond the Germans in the far distance we could see a line of riders keeping pace with the German column but staying well away from it. They were Raymond’s horse archers for sure. And they were staying some distance away from the Germans for good reason according to the sergeant of the horse archers who had ridden in to warn us of their coming�
�the Germans had a number of very good crossbow men in their ranks.

  Suddenly, when they were in front of us and a good thirty or forty minutes’ walk from the hill where we were waiting, the German column began to come to a halt when the horsemen leading it reined in their horses. It didn’t stop instantly as one of our columns would if the order to halt was given, but rather it stopped as the men who were still walking reached those who had already stopped and were forced to stop themselves. It wasn’t pretty, but it had the effect of closing up the German column into a more compact and defendable mass of men.

  After a few minutes had passed, several riders detached themselves from the main body of Germans and began riding in our direction waving some sort of very large flag and blowing on a horn. They were obviously coming to talk.

  “Heralds do you suppose?” Henry asked to no one in particular as it became clear that they were riding towards us. As they came closer, we could see several of the four riders were finely attired with gleaming armour and riding particularly fine horses.

  “Well, I suppose I ought to go find out, eh?" I replied, also to no one in particular. With that, I gestured for Joseph, my young apprentice sergeant, to mount one of the horse archers’ horses I’d appropriated and come with me to interpret when I meet with the Germans. I also told the sergeant of the horse archers to come along and bring his strongest archer.

  I took the two horse archers with me, the sergeant and a two-striper who indeed looked as if he had particularly strong arms, so we would be the same number as the Germans who were apparently coming to talk with us; I took Joseph in case the Germans couldn’t gobble English or French and we had to use translators who could gobble at each other in church-talk.

  Henry stayed behind to command the men, see to it that the range marker rocks were put out properly, and organize a rescue if we needed one. As we neared the approaching Germans I told the sergeant and his chosen man to nock “heavies” and be ready to instantly push them into anyone who started to make a move against us. “Heavies,” of course, being the front-weighted arrows with slender pointed iron tips that a strong archer could push out of a longbow with enough power to pierce armour. All of our archers can do it—they don’t move past being unpaid apprentices and get an archer’s stripe and pay until they are strong enough.