We reined in twenty paces short of the walls. I said nothing. I was there to intimidate Geoffrey. My silence would be seen as a threat. Henry did the talking and I studied the defences. We would only be able to use one ram. The ramp and the gate were not wide enough for two. We would have to support the ram with archers and pavises. They would have to be constructed. Fortunately, they were easy to make and there were plenty of willows by the river.
King Henry spoke first. I had instructed him to do so. It would set the tone. We were not there to plead, we were there to demand. “This is a dark day for our family, brother.”
“You should have heeded my father’s wish for me to be Count of Anjou.” Geoffrey sounded as petulant as ever.
“Are you still deluding yourself with that? I have his will and he makes no mention of you nor of our brother William here. Instead he asks me to decide who should be Count. I have only been king for a short time. I have yet to decide who shall rule in Anjou, Maine, Touraine and Normandy. You have been ill advised.”
“Our father told me I would be Count!” Geoffrey’s voice sounded shrill and whining. I watched the knights who were close by on the fighting platform. They did not approve of his tone. He was more of a child than a leader.
“And I say again that I have yet to make a decision. Yield this castle to me and we can speak of your future.”
Geoffrey laughed. “You are a fool brother! I have three castles and I control the south!”
William raised his arm and, without looking, I knew that behind us, Richard d’Avranches had led his men with their banners so that they could be seen from the barbican.
Geoffrey’s face showed his shock and then he raised his head and said, defiantly, “That is but one castle, Richard d’Avranches is not a true knight. I still hold Mirebeau!”
William reached behind him and, taking the standard of Charles of Alençon, threw it to the ground. Geoffrey was not clever enough to feign disinterest. His face fell and his mouth dropped open.
King Henry’s voice was reasonable and measured when next he spoke, “Brother, this is all that you have. Those knights whom you had in your two castles have now sworn allegiance to me. We have twice the men that we had. I ask you to save your men’s lives for we shall win.”
I stared up at Geoffrey and almost willed him to look at me. I saw him look at the King and then his younger brother. Finally, he dragged his eyes around to stare at me. He could only hold the gaze briefly and then he shook his head, “Do your worst! I have cast the die! Your men will bleed on these walls.”
King Henry nodded as though this was to be expected. He looked at me and gestured with his hand. I nudged Sword forward. I stood in the stirrups and pulled back on the reins to make him rear. It was a dramatic gesture. My horse obligingly neighed. As he landed I shouted, “I am the Earl Marshal of King Henry, I am the Warlord of the North and the Empress’ Champion. Know this, all within Chinon’s walls, if you resist us then you will incur my wrath. I am an old and vengeful warrior” I swept my arm along the wall. “I have fought with many of you and you know that I do not lie.” I pointed at Geoffrey, “The boy who leads you has not fought. He has been led astray. If you follow him then you are doomed. I give you fair warning. I have spoken!” I wheeled Sword around and followed King Henry and William down the ramp. We rode slowly and I was aware of every eye watching us. Charles of Alençon’s standard lay before the gate. It was a reminder to Geoffrey that he had failed.
When we reached the camp William asked, “Will he surrender?”
I shrugged, “He may see that he has no choice but to fight. If I were you, majesty, I would use the onagers to begin battering the barbican. I paced out the range as we came back. Although they do not have clear line of sight there is no obstacle before them. If we use pavises we can protect them. They may not be able to see the gatehouse but we can use a spotter close to the castle. While the rams are being built it will be like the sound of impending doom.”
“You are right and it will give the men the chance to do something rather than just sitting around.”
It took but a morning to make the pavises. Made from fresh willow the oblong shields were quick to make and were as tough as a shield. Each would stop an arrow or a bolt. We made enough to protect both the ram and the archers who would accompany the war machines. The archers moved forward with them. The range to the barbican was just over a hundred paces. The onagers would have to be further away. The fact that they could not see the barbican was a problem but the Tour de Moulin was a good marker. Once the pavises were in place the archers, led by Griff of Gwent began a steady rain of arrows. If they had used crossbows they would have had to lower the pavise before release. The archers had no such problem. The archers began to clear the walls. This allowed the onagers to be brought forward. We would use them in pairs. The tensioning limited their use and we had two replacements ready to be brought up when the first two onagers showed signs of wear and tear.
When the war machines snapped it sounded like the crack of lightning. It took four boulders before we were rewarded with the sound of stone hitting stone. The lonely spotter had used his hands to correct the fall of stone and, now that we were hitting he returned to us. The men working the machines nodded their satisfaction and gave a cheer. They had the range. The archers shifted their target and rained arrows at the barbican. Fresh archers relieved the first ones so that the shower continued all afternoon. As darkness fell the archers were replaced by men at arms who would guard the machines and pavises in case Geoffrey tried a sortie. I did not think that he would.
That evening we discussed the day’s events. “Will he surrender, Warlord?”
I looked into the fire and after a moment or two said, “If it were you inside Chinon then I would say no. You would have machines of your own. You would sortie forth. You would not have allowed us to dominate this day as we have done. I know not your brother. What little I have seen of him has not impressed me. The lords I saw with him are good soldiers. I wonder what he has offered them in return for this treason? If Geoffrey does not surrender then his lords may.”
William said, “The rams are both ready.”
“Then I will order the attack to begin in the morning. I will choose a leader to go with the ram. Perhaps Sir Leofric?”
I shook my head, “There is but one choice, your majesty, me!”
“You are Earl Marshal! What if you fall?”
“Then that is meant to be. Sir Leofric is a good choice but I am a better one. If the lords with whom we fought see me then their resolve will weaken. Besides I have assaulted more castles than any.” I could see that the King was not convinced. “Your majesty, trust me. I have no intention of dying. I have a son and grandchildren in England. This is calculated. My presence may save lives.”
William asked, “How so?”
I turned and said, flatly, “Because every crossbow bolt will be aimed at me.” Both the brothers knew that would be true.
I sought out Leofric. “I will need the archers and men at arms you promised me.”
“Of course. May I ask why?”
“I will be going in behind the ram tomorrow. They will need to bring large shields. I think I will be attracting every missile they have in Chinon.”
“Lord…”
I smiled, “The King asked for you. I would take it as a great compliment. I chose this task.”
“And I would gladly have gone. Are you sure about this?”
“Do not worry, I have thought it through. Unless they have suddenly built catapults or onagers it is only the bolts which can harm me. I will rely on your archers to hit the crossbows before they hit me.”
He nodded, “They will have less bolts aimed at them and they are more accurate.”
“Exactly. Send them to me after they have eaten. I wish to make sure that all know what we are to do.”
James walked back to my tent with me. “They are right lord, it is dangerous.”
“Getting out of bed in th
e morning can be dangerous. Meeting with Ralph of Bowness has reminded me of stories my father told me of the housecarls of King Harold. When the Normans charged at them they held their shields above the heads and before them. They were not touched. When the Breton crossbows loosed their bolts at them they did not penetrate their wall of shields.”
We had reached our camp and my servants appeared with drink, food and seats. “But was not King Harold killed by an arrow?”
I smiled, almost triumphantly, “He was indeed, an arrow! An arrow which was loosed vertically to plunge down and hit him. Have you seen any archers on Chinon’s walls?”
“No, lord.”
“Nor have I. With shields above and before then we should be safe. However, just to be certain I will wear my gambeson beneath a surcoat, then my mail and finally another surcoat. When I spoke with my son he told me of Seljuk Turks who fight that way. I know not how, but it is the different layers which can stop a bolt or an arrow from penetrating.”
He nodded, “I understand.”
“You will not have to fight on the morrow. You will hold my standard and your shield. That is all that is needed from you. If there is fighting to do then my men at arms and I will do it.”
“You think we will not have to?”
“I believe that if we penetrate their gate then their resistance will end. Besides, that is all we need to do. We break into the barbican and we break their will to fight.” It was dark but there were glowing patches showing where the rooms and chambers used by Geoffrey were to be found. “See those lights? They are close to the barbican. Geoffrey’s quarters are close to the gate. He will capitulate but we must breach the gate.”
We had finished eating when the ten men sent by Sir Leofric arrived. I stood, “You are from Sir Leofric?”
One of the men at arms, a tall blond who looked like a Viking, nodded, “Aye lord. I am Arne Arneson.”
“You understand that if you serve me you will be in great danger.”
Disconcertingly they all grinned and nodded. Arne said, “Aye, lord! But men say that as well as being dangerous being with you is lucky. Better a lucky leader who puts us in danger than a careful leader whom the gods do not favour.”
“Gods?”
He shrugged and held Thor’s Hammer and a crucifix for me to see, “A warrior needs all the help he can get, lord!”
I waved over Lame Tom, “Tom have ale and food brought for my new men.”
“Aye lord.”
“Sit and I will tell you what we will attempt tomorrow.”
I waited until the food and drink were served. “Make sure that no one overhears us, “Aye lord.” My servants were all armed and formed a circle at the edge of our camp. I could see that I had their attention. “The gate we assault tomorrow is not wide and that is why we use the one ram. The ram will be manned by strong warriors who can push but they are not the ones who will break in. That will be us!”
They nodded their approval. “We will be behind the ram and we will be so close that we shall know if one of the men farts!” They laughed. “We will have an old-fashioned shield wall. Like the Roman testudo or the Saxon shield wall. The only sign that there are men within will be the wolf standard which James will hold. It will rise from the wall of shields like a harbinger of doom.”
I turned to the archers. “You four will carry two pavises. Your task will be to slay any crossbow men that you see. The rest will be keeping the heads of the men on the walls down but the curve in the ramp means that they cannot see their targets. You will. I see three of you wear helmets. I want all of you with helmets and a coif too.”
The one without a helmet said, “I am Will Greenleg, lord, and will get one. My other was damaged.”
“Good, you shall need one. As soon as the gate is breached then we move through the ram and I want to take the barbican.”
James asked, “Not the second gate?”
“No, James, for the barbican is higher than the second wall. Our archers will rain death upon them. We will hold the barbican and then the two rams can attack the wall and the second gate. Your task will be to tear down their standard and raise our own. Arne, you will lead Wilson, Harry and James of Tewkesbury up the left-hand tower and I will take the rest up the right!”
When they had all finished eating we practised making a shield wall. It was not as easy as it sounded. We had to use the different heights of the men. Eight men was small for a testudo but the Romans had had one for a contubernium and that had eight men. I was hopeful.
After we had finished I was introduced to my men at arms, Roger of Bath, James of Tewkesbury, John son of John, Harry Lightfoot and Wilson of Bristol. The other archers were: Tom the Fletcher, Robert of Sheffield and my Welshman Rhodri of Ruthin.
I was tired but I knew the value of bonding with my men and so I sat up with them as they chatted. My servants joined in the conversation. They had shared battles, skirmishes and lords. I listened more than I spoke. Rhodri of Ruthin asked me, during a lull in the conversation, “When this is over lord, what then?”
“I am the Earl Marshal of the King. Where he goes, so go I. Eventually I hope to return to Stockton where my son lives.” I stood to address them all, “You should know that our first journey will be to Wales.” I looked at Rhodri, “We go to the marches. King Maredudd ap Gruffydd has been taking English land.”
“I fight for England, lord. I severed any ties I had with my homeland long ago.” He sounded bitter and I determined to discover why, when time allowed.
Chapter 14
We did not get much sleep. After I had prayed and James had ensured that my weapons were sharp I lay on my cot and dozed for an hour or two. It was not a sleep but I rested. Some of my new men were up before me. I was pleased to see my archers choosing the best arrows to put in their quivers. I knew that we were lucky to have a fletcher among our numbers. All archers could fletch but a good fletcher could gain a few paces from an arrow by skilful selection and positioning of the feathers. I made my morning prayers and broke my fast. I did not eat a lot and I only drank small beer. If I survived, then I would enjoy a hearty meal.
James helped me to dress. After I had donned my gambeson he placed some extra padding over my shoulders. The he slid my old surcoat on top of it. After donning my chausses and coif, we slid my mail byrnie over the surcoat. While I had been waiting in Stockton for word of my son, Alf had made sure that there were no weak links. Finally, my surcoat was placed over my byrnie. It felt a little tight but I knew that the extra padding would be worth the discomfort. James held my helmet and I left my tent. My men were ready and dawn had broken. I heard the creak of wood as the ram was pushed into position. As soon as it was light the onagers would continue their barrage of stones. All eyes would be on the ram and my banner. When we started up the ramp then it would only be the archers who would be attacking. We dared not risk a stone sent from our own war machines hitting the ram.
King Henry and his brother appeared behind the ram. We moved out of the way so that it would be ready to push up the slope. Until it reached the bend another twenty men at arms would push it to help it gather momentum. When they retreated, we would take their place. “All is ready, Warlord?”
“We are prepared. We have made our peace with God and each man knows his task.” My archers appeared with their two willow pavises. My men at arms were fiddling and adjusting leather straps on their shields and swords. It was a ritual which good warriors performed before they fought.
There was a mighty crack as a stone hit the gate. Those hits were lucky but the ones working the machine took it as a sign from God. Any hits on the gate would weaken it and make it easier for the men in the ram. There was a second creaking crack and this time the men in the ram cheered. The mixture of men at arms and knights would be nervous. Walking in the blackness of a ram, not knowing what the enemy would throw at you was hard and a real test of nerves.
My men at arms shouted encouragement to those inside the dark interior of the ram. “We
will be right behind you lads!”
“We will show these traitors what true Englishmen can do!”
“Aye and Welshmen too boyo!”
The ram creaked up the gentle slope of the ramp. It would get harder. The twenty or so men at arms who would push it until it reached the bend fell in behind and locked bodies to push. At their side were men at arms with huge willow shields.
William commented, “The men sound confident.”
“They have to believe they will succeed, lord. If they did not then they would falter at the end. However, they do not believe that all who ascend will be alive at the fall of the castle.”
I saw William’s face. Like his brother Geoffrey he had minimal experience of actual battles. He could use a sword, a lance and ride a horse but he had never been in a fight to the death at the top of a fighting platform. Henry had and he understood, I think.
As the men pushing passed us I said, “Form up.”
Arne Arneson was the largest of the men and he stood next to me on my right side. Wilson of Bristol was large too and he stood on my left. James was behind me with Roger of Bath on one side and James of Tewkesbury on the other. John son of John and Harry Lightfoot were the rear rank. We had our shields at our sides. We would only raise them when the men helping the ram returned.
There was another crack on the gate. God was on our side. Our archers walked to our right as we moved towards the curve in the ramp. The pavises they carried protected us from bolts and arrows. I idly wondered what would happen if they built a second wall to the left of the ramp. Then we would be assaulted from both sides. I was grateful that they had not done so already. Two of the men at arms pushing the ram fell as they turned the bend. The sergeant at arms shouted, “Back!” switching the shields which had lain over their backs to their right side they began to walk backwards towards us. The archers who were supposed to have protected them now ran, rather belatedly to take their positions. It was not Leofric’s men this day. It was a Norman lord’s men. One was tardy and a bolt struck him. He fell, dead. It was fortunate that they were crossbows as they could not keep up a high rate of missiles.
The Welsh Marches (The Anarchy 1120-1180 Book 15) Page 16