Gulling The Kings

by Martin Archer

  Raymond was less grumpy about being left behind than I would have expected. But he seen many a wounded man in his years as an archer and knew he wouldn’t be able to walk or ride until his leg healed. He and the rest our sick and wounded would be carried to St. Ives on the recaptured wains.

  From St. Ives, our sick and wounded men, and the archers remaining with Henry, would travel back to Restormel on some of the German transports—the Germans wouldn’t need so many now that there were fewer Germans left to be carried away. The surviving German knights and priests would be sailing with them. We would decide what to do with the Germans later. Those who weren’t ransomed would probably help row one of our galleys to the Holy Land, or get his neck stretched in the case of the bishop.

  Chapter Thirteen

  What Thomas found in the harbour.

  My brother, William, and I travelled down to Fowey Village on one of our old training galleys. The galley was going down the river to take some newly arrived apprentice archers out into the waters off the village to be learnt to row and fight at sea. There was much pointing and whispering as we came aboard; both the apprentice archers, and the sailor sergeants putting the learning on them, seemed to be rather excited about having us travel with them even if it was only for a short distance.

  Our trip down the river was quiet and serene with only the periodic splash and swish of a couple of oars to correct the galley’s course as we drifted. Every so often we waved most friendly to families in the fields and travellers on the cart path and they waved back. Our apprentice sergeants, Steven and Angelo, had come with us to do any fetching and carrying we might require. They stayed down on the deck so we could talk privately.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked William as we stood holding on to the railing around the roof of the galley’s rear castle and watched the fields and forests along the river as we slowly drifted past them. It felt good to get out of our dark castle rooms for a while.

  “Much better, thank you; but, truth be told, I don’t seem to have recovered all my strength. The pox seems to have made me tired all the time. I’m certainly looking forward to spending the coming winter sitting in the sun on Cyprus. Did I tell you that I’ve been thinking about taking Helen with me this time? She’s keen to go, isn’t she?”

  “No, you didn’t tell me. But it’s probably a good idea so you’ll have someone to care for you. But what about her young ones? What will you do with them? You’re not intending to take little Edward and your daughters with you, are you?”

  “Of course not. I’m not that daft am I?” William replied. “Helen wanted to take them with us, of course, but I wouldn’t agree. Not a chance. Helen’s a dear but she’s been in Cornwall for so long she’s forgotten how dangerous it is to travel at sea with little children, let alone take them all the way to Cyprus. Tori will have to take care of them while she’s gone.

  “And, speaking about such matters, my dear priestly brother, how are you feeling? I’m still not sure I should leave for Cyprus until you are feeling strong enough to help Henry handle things here and George gets back from taking this year’s coins to Rome so he can help the two of you while I’m gone.”

  We spent a pleasant afternoon drifting down the river and talking of many things, including who of our family and men should do what in the months ahead and why garlic keeps away the pox.

  Our passage was totally quiet except for the periodic sound of the oars and our own voices; we heard not a single spoken word—the galley’s sailors and the new apprentices sitting on its rowing benches had obviously been ordered not to talk by the galley’s sergeant commander.

  ****** William

  Thomas and I could see more masts than we’d ever seen here before as our galley came out of the mouth of the Fowey and began rowing towards the nearby village wharf. A number of galleys were nosed into the strand or pulled up on it with men working on them.

  Some of the galleys I recognized as having gone with me to St. Ives, others as the prizes we took there. They must have returned after Samuel and his men brought me back last week. Men were everywhere either working on the galleys or practicing their marching together and archery. It was a beehive of activity and quite pleasing for me to see.

  Fowey harbour itself and the estuary around it were also full of shipping, including a number of galleys and transports at anchor that I’d never seen before. One in particular immediately caught my eye. It had three masts and was the largest ship I’d ever seen outside the Mediterranean—and it had two large war galleys moored to it, one on either side, and five more anchored close by.

  The foreign galleys and transports were almost certainly Germans belonging to a prince named Frederick if the messages we’d been receiving were correct. He was one of princes to whom the Pope had sent his relics-donating offer, and the reason Thomas and I had come down the river to meet his representatives.

  ****** Thomas

  “Hoy Captain William; Hoy Bishop,” an old grey-bearded two-striper cried as the galley edged up to Fowey Village’s wooden wharf and he came out to catch the mooring lines. “It’s good to see you both on your feet and looking so fine and chipper, yes it is; we heard you both was poxed most fearsome, didn’t we?”

  “Hoy yourself, Josh, and how be you?” I replied with a great enthusiasm that was no doubt helped by the bowls of ale William and I had drunk as the galley wended its way down the river and we talked.

  Josh smiled his appreciation at being recognized and nodded his head as he held out his hand to help steady us as we jumped one after another down on to the wharf. William and I both smiled back, and then we both shook his hand most friendly-like and wished him well. It was a nice summer day; the dark thoughts often inside my head were resting.

  “It’s good to see you again too, Josh; yes it is. And thank you for your good wishes,” William said as he shook the old archer’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder, as well he should for Josh being an old mate who’d stood firm with us in many a battle and raid. As he was greeting Josh, a couple of sergeants came hurrying up to make their manners. They listened attentively as William continued.

  “The last couple of weeks have been hard on everyone, Josh, yes they have, what with Thomas and I both being poxed at the same time and the barons and the Germans at St. Ives trying to take our relics without paying for them. But the lieutenants and sergeants did good work and the company’s come through it all most fine, most fine indeed. The relics we found and everyone’s prize money for finding them are all safe; and that’s what counts, eh?”

  As soon as William mentioned the Germans, I realized we needed to say more so our men wouldn’t confuse the newly arrived Germans with those Peter and his men had just defeated. This lot are our invited guests, at least we hope so; we wouldn’t want them treated badly or made to feel unwelcome by our men, at least not until we have their coins in our chests and safely stowed away.

  “The Germans in the harbour are from a different country the lot that just attacked us, Josh, so they are. I hope. We invited them here and they’re our guests. That’s why the captain and I have come down the river to welcome them. Even better, they’re like us—they hate the barons and the German buggers who attacked us up north around St. Ives. And best of all, they’ve arrived with the coins to buy the relics that we’ll be using for everyone’s prize money for the company finding the relics. I hope. So I’d appreciate it if you pass the word to the lads to treat them most kindly, eh?”

  If Josh’s red nose and well-known love of juniper brew mean anything, the story that the newly arrived Germans are friendly and brought the coins for the men’s prize money will spread through our camp and the village’s two alehouses and our galleys like a wildfire.

  One of the sergeants who had come to greet us and make his manners was Andrew, an archer from Newcastle who had been left behind when Richard suddenly went home from his crusade. He was one of our very first recruits and made his mark on the company’s original parchment those long years ago in
Latika. He’d survived our various wars and battles and was now a five-stripe senior sergeant in charge of Fowey harbour and the village where the men lived when they were assigned here.

  Andrew pointed towards the big ship with the galleys moored next to it and told us more.

  “According to my apprentice sergeant who can gobble with them, the priests who have come ashore with coins to buy supplies and hire couriers at the stable say that the lord who commands the Germans is on the big ship off there to the left with the galleys moored all around it.”

  “Well, there’s no need to sit on our arses wasting time,” I said as I turned to William. “Let’s send someone out with a parchment telling them we’re here to talk about the relics and see how they respond.”

  William nodded his agreement and, within minutes, Andrew himself was in a dinghy with a pair of sturdy sailors rowing him out to the big ship. He was carrying a parchment scribed in Latin announcing the availability of the Bishop of Cornwall to meet with whoever is in command to talk about the sale of the relics.

  Andrew returned less than an hour later with an encouraging response—the Germans would be pleased to invite the Bishop of Cornwall to their ship to discuss the Germans’ purchase of the relics.

  “They treated me tolerably well,” Andrew reported with a smile. “They gave me a bowl of wine to drink while I waited for their answer, didn’t they? It were good wine.”

  William and I were hoping this lot are different from Otto’s Germans and are actually willing to pay for the relics instead of trying to rob us of them; that’s what they said they had come to do in the two parchment messages that came to us before they arrived, and again in the message that came as soon as their fleet reached the mouth of the Fowey.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A surprise meeting.

  The new arrivals were Germans so William and I decided not to take any chances. I would go out to the German ship by myself to arrange for the sale of the relics; William would remain in Fowey Village to lead a rescue if the Germans were treacherous.

  It didn’t take Andrew long to organize a dinghy and a pair of sailors to row me and Angelo out to the German ship. As we walked down to the dinghy where it waited at the shoreline, I could see two of our galleys moving into place to block the harbour entrance so the German ship and its protecting galleys would find it difficult to leave unless I returned safely to Fowey Village. William saw me looking at them and explained.

  “I told their sergeants to board the ship and take her if she tries to leave with you on board and to ram the bastard and sink her if they can’t. You do remember how to swim, don’t you?”

  When William said that, for some reason, I had the strangest thought inside my head; I wondered why ships are always called her and she as if they were women?

  “What? Of course, I remember how to swim,” I replied indignantly. “It’s something you never forget, isn’t it?”

  Then I realized William was smiling with delight. He had been foxing me because I was always banging on about the boys in my school needing to be learnt to swim.

  “Damn your eyes, you foxed me,” I said as we both roared with laughter and poked at each other, much to the wide-eyed amazement of our apprentices and the archers walking with us.

  ****** Thomas

  The deck of the German’s big ship was far above me and I could see its masts rocking back and forth as my dinghy came along side of it. I was rowed to where a man was energetically beckoning. As we got closer I could see that he was standing on the steps of a wooden ladder that looked to be permanently attached to the side of the ship. That’s a good idea; I must remember it. There was also, thank you God, a rope dangling down with a loop on its end to help haul me up and rescue me if I fell.

  The man at the bottom of the ladder swung the line out to me, said something I couldn’t understand. But then he moved his hands about to indicate that he wanted me to stay seated, and put the loop over my head and arms. There was a short line with a much smaller loop hanging off the big loop.

  It took a while and involved much hand-waving motions and German words, at least I think they were German words, before I understood that the short line was to go between my legs on my arse back side and come up on my dingle front side and be hooked to an iron hook attached to the big loop to make a little nest the ship’s sailors could use to steady me and pull me up if I fell off the ladder.

  Getting into the rope nest wasn’t easy to do in the bobbing dinghy, but I got it done with a little help from Angelo who was sitting next to me and one of the rowers sitting behind me. Someone must have been watching closely from up on the deck because the slack in the line began being taken up as soon as I had the big loop tucked under my arms and the little loop run between my legs and securely on the iron hook.

  When I finished getting ready to climb the ladder, the German sailor, for a sailor with lots of experience climbing up and down masts he surely must be, shouted something up to the ship’s deck that I couldn’t understand, held on to the side of the ladder with just one hand, and swung out of my way as he gestured for me to reach over and grab the ladder, and then stand up and climb it.

  Before I stood up, I kicked off my sandals just in case. The German sailor smiled and nodded his approval when he saw me kick them off. He was barefoot too.

  I hope I can swim wearing my tunic, I thought to myself as I reached way up and put both hands on the ladder and stood up in the bobbing dinghy. As I did, my tunic slid back a little and one of my wrist knives could be seen. As soon as I had both feet on the ladder, I shrugged the sleeve of my tunic forward to conceal it once again.

  ******

  It was surprisingly easy to climb the ladder what with the rope nest being pulled up tight to help me on my way. The sailor climbed close behind and pushed on my arse to steady me several times even though I didn’t need it. And thank God I had enough foresight to shift my dingle and bollocks so they wouldn’t be caught between me and the rope that ran between my legs to keep me from falling; it rubbed me painfully enough as it was.

  A cluster of smiling priests and plump bishops was waiting at the top of the ladder to greet me along with a three or four elegantly dressed men who seem to be some kind of courtiers. They seemed a bit surprised to see a barefoot ruffian arrive wearing the plain tunic with the six stripes of an archer lieutenant instead of a bishop’s finery. Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the priests, notable because he was particularly tall and slender, lean over the railing to peer down and make sure the real bishop wasn’t still coming up.

  We all made the best of it.

  “Greetings eminence, I am Gottfried, Archbishop of Munich. My fellow bishops and I bid you welcome to the court of Emperor Frederick in the name of God,” said one of the three bishops in very bad Latin as we bowed to each other and he offered his hand.

  “His majesty is anxious to meet you and hear the story of the relics from your own lips.” This is the Emperor’s court? Is he here?

  One of the other bishops greeting me was introduced as the Pope’s papal nuncio to the emperor’s court. His Latin was much better. I wonder if he knows about our arrangement to share the coins with Cardinal Bertoli and the Pope. Well, it’s not for me to explain it to him, is it?

  The German sailor and Angelo came up the ladder a minute or so later while I was still being introduced to the other priests and officials, all of whose names and positions I couldn’t understand and soon forgot.

  Angelo brought my sandals; he carried them in his teeth as he climbed the ladder. The introductions barely paused while I was busy slipping my feet into them.

  ******

  As soon as I was ready, I was ushered along the deck to the rear of the ship by the archbishop and the three well-dressed courtiers. They guided me to a fine wooden door with lots of carvings at the entrance of what was obviously a very large ship’s castle. It was guarded by two well turned out guards carrying swords and shields. As we walked towards it, I couldn’t help
but notice the hostility between the courtiers and the bishops.

  Later I came to find out later that the three officials were nobles and members of the emperor’s private council, and it was they who normally presented visitors to the emperor. In my case, they had been usurped by the archbishop and papal nuncio because I was a priest.

  I must remember to tell my students why such people make much of such things even though they appear to be unimportant—because it frequently allows them to accept “gifts” in order to allow the meeting to occur. It didn’t apply in my case, of course, because they could not prevent or delay me from seeing the emperor. It was, it seems, the principle of the thing that had them at each other’s throats.

  Before I entered, I asked the archbishop how I should address and approach the emperor. He was most helpful—“don’t offer him your ring to kiss, just bow most respectfully and always address him as Your Majesty.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  We have an unexpected visitor.

  The guards at the door saluted by standing to attention and the bishop and courtiers led me into the largest and most luxurious ship’s castle I’d ever seen. There were woven rugs of many colours covering the floor and pieces of carved furniture the likes of which I’d never seen before.

  Looking up to watch us enter was a young man of about George’s age and height. He was sitting at a table and had been studying a chess board with pieces set out on it. It was obviously in play, but there was no opponent in sight. There were several very large rolls of parchment next to it.

  Books, by God; the first I’d ever seen outside a monastery or the Lateran Palace in Rome, except for three I bought from one of the Pope’s priests that are now at Restormel. I didn’t ask the priest where he got them, but I have a very good idea and doubt the Lateran Palace will ever know they’re gone—I told him I’d buy as many more as he could find the next time I was in Rome.