The Welsh Marches (The Anarchy 1120-1180 Book 15)

by Hosker, Griff

  Entering the Great Hall, I said, “You could put him in the Tower. Your grandfather did that with his brother.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Geoffrey was seated alone in the hall. His head was bowed. Henry said, “All save the Warlord and my youngest brother leave us. I will be safe.”

  “Aye, your majesty.”

  The hall felt enormous with just four of us. “What to do, little brother.”

  Geoffrey looked up. Gone was the truculence and petulance of the confrontation before the battle. He looked contrite and fearful. This was the second time he had crossed his brother. He thought his life was about to end. “I was led astray, brother. Charles of Alençon told me that if I rebelled then when King Louis conquered this land I would be given the Dukedom.”

  I laughed, “And you believed that? Majesty, your brother should be restrained for his own good. King Louis would have made Charles the Duke!”

  Henry held up his hand, “Thank you, Earl Marshal, I believe you are right but it still leaves me with the problem of what to do with you.”

  In a very small voice Geoffrey said, “Am I to die?”

  He looked younger than his nineteen years. He looked younger than his little brother, William. I saw now that Henry had been taken to war by me when he was young. That had hardened and matured him. Geoffrey had been indulged. His father had spoiled him.

  I saw that Henry would not have him executed. He smiled, “I think not. Until I have decided what to do with you I will have you closely watched. After London, I cannot trust you or your word.”

  The next few days saw Henry organising his lands in Anjou. He appointed Sir Leofric as Warlord of Anjou with his young brother William as Marshal. The inclusion of Leofric in the arrangement was at William’s request. He was a sensible youth and knew that he had not enough experience yet. A letter arrived from their mother exhorting Henry to show mercy towards Geoffrey. Henry looked pleased that his actions had been vindicated.

  We were about to leave for home when the guards announced a deputation from Brittany. Henry had supported Count Conan when he had ruled but since his death his uncle, Hoël, had ruled and he was a violent and unpopular man. The deputation of senior peers from Brittany sought audience with the King. Along with William and myself, we listened to what they had to say.

  “Your majesty we are here to beg your intervention in our land. None of the royal family, save Hoël, remain and he has proved to be a leader we cannot follow. We have imprisoned him.”

  Henry nodded, “And what do you want of me?”

  “We would have you appoint one of your family to be the Count of Nantes.”

  Henry’s eyes flashed at me. The question was obvious. Was this some sort of trick or ruse?

  I stood, “I am the Earl Marshal of England and I advise the King. This is a generous offer. However, it comes as a surprise.”

  The spokesman, Guy of Rennes, nodded, “It would seem so. Conan was a good Count and King Henry supported him. His uncle is a venal and corrupt man. There is none of that family left. If we appointed a Count from within our ranks there would be division and conflict. Your King is young but he seems to have a wise head.” He smiled, “Besides, Brittany is a small, rocky County. We are hardly worth worrying about.” He turned to Henry. “Since the time of your great grandfather we have been vassals of Normandy. In the main it has served us well. We will be happy with whomever you choose.”

  “Then if you will allow me some time to ponder these matters I will give you a decision.” He waved a hand, “My servants will find you quarters.”

  After they had gone I said, “This is a good day, your majesty. You secure your Dukedom and now make secure a potential threat to Anjou.”

  He smiled, “And the choice is obvious. William, will you be Count of Nantes?”

  To the surprise of both of us he shook his head, “No brother. I am content, for the moment with the title I hold. Viscount of Dieppe and Marshal of Anjou suit me. Besides I have realised that I need to read more. Had I not read Vegetius we might still be trying to force the walls.”

  “Then who?”

  William said, quietly, “There is but one choice it must be Geoffrey. Think about it brother, you kill two birds with one stone. You give our brother that which he wants, someone to rule, and you save yourself the problem of guarding him. The Bretons will not allow their Count to make war on you. They imprisoned Hoël. If Geoffrey tried anything they would stop him. They will be both his gaolers and his subjects. It is a perfect solution.”

  The Empress would be proud of her youngest son. He had shown wisdom beyond his years. Henry was as clever a man as I had ever met and he quickly realised the advantages. He sent for Geoffrey. I have never seen so dejected a man. He came expecting a death sentence. His shoulders sagged and his head drooped.

  “Brother, I have an offer to make. It is a simple choice accept it or say no. There will be no third way.”

  He nodded, “I am resigned to my fate.”

  “Then I would have you become Count of Nantes and rule Brittany on my behalf.”

  I watched as Geoffrey wrestled with the words he had heard. Was it a trap? Was his brother trying to trick him? The three of us watched as his agile mind ran through all the possible outcomes. “I do not understand. I was a traitor and I rebelled, yet you reward me. Why?”

  “Firstly, you are right you did rebel but you are of my blood. Secondly, the Bretons have asked me to name a new Count. I offered it to William but he suggested you.”

  Geoffrey looked at his younger brother and clasped both his hands, “Thank you brother I…”

  “This offer, Geoffrey, means that you will have to rule and yet remain loyal to me and to William. If you cross that line again then you will lose your head.”

  Geoffrey dropped to his knees, “I swear brother that I am a changed man. I will be as loyal as the Warlord here.”

  Henry laughed as he raised his brother to his feet, “I accept your words but know this Geoffrey. It is impossible for any man to be more loyal than the Warlord. However, if that is your ideal then I am hopeful that you are truly a changed man.”

  Part Three

  Wales

  Chapter 15

  London was a hive of activity. Henry had been like a man possessed as he gathered the fleet which would take his army back to England. Leaving all of his castles well defended he took large numbers of knights, men at arm and, to my archers’ dismay, crossbowmen. The only respite he had was during the first two days when he was reunited with his queen. During that time, I had men scouting the neighbouring counties for horses. I also sent my archers to recruit more archers. I knew that, against the Welsh, we would need them. It was at about this time that a priest joined us. Thomas Becket was a clever young man. I had met him briefly at the coronation. To me, he never seemed particularly pious. He was too worldly but he was efficient. I found him a useful man for he was happy, like most clerks, with lists and details. He enjoyed the minutiae of planning. He made sure we had enough arrows, horses and spears.

  I wanted to choose my own horses and I needed numbers of them. Sussex had fine grazing and I took my men at arms and James to buy some. Money was not a problem. King Henry had rewarded me well for my services in Anjou. I needed a pair of good war horses for me as well as a pair of horses for each of my men at arms, archers, James and my servants. James would also need a war horse. I bought thirty horses in all. Thomas Becket had arranged the purchase of draught animals and carts. One did not let a priest choose a horse which would be used in war! I knew enough lords now to be able to discover a reliable breeder. Ralph of the Downs was such a man. He reminded me of Aiden. He seemed to be able to talk to the horses. He had a number of war horses but two stood out for me. One was a magnificent chestnut. Ralph had named all of his horses. The chestnut was called Warrior. With just one white sock and a blond mane he reminded me a little of Sword, save that he was bigger. Storm Bringer was black as night with a lightning blaze on his head. He remi
nded me of Badger. The most interesting of his horses was the palfrey he sold me.

  “My lord this one is a mare. She is the cleverest horse I have ever bred. She is not the biggest but she is strong. Even my stable boys can talk to her and she understands their words but she has other skills. She has a nose and ears which can detect friend and foe from great distances. I know not how she does it. If she stops then there is danger. If she nods her head then it is a friend. I had an old Dane worked for me and he brought her into this world and named her. He called her Skuld. He died soon after she had finished nursing.” He lowered his voice, “I know that it is not Christian lord but I swear that Ragnar’s spirit lives within her.”

  I walked up to the horse. Ralph was right. You could see the intelligence in her eyes. I put my nose close to hers and let her smell me. Her rough tongue licked my face.

  Ralph nodded, “She is yours, lord, whether you will or not.”

  He had no need to persuade me. I bought all three. When it came to James’ warhorse we bought one which none other would buy for it was a grey. Many knights did not like a grey. They were said to attract arrows and bolts but James knew that Snowbird was meant to be his as soon as he saw her. We rode back to London with our herd. My men at arms and archers had spent their money wisely. Some had bought mail or weapons but all had left some with the Jewish bankers who lived in London. With luck, they would survive to be old men and then the money they had earned would buy them an inn or slaves. They anticipated more riches when we headed west. I would be in the thickest of the action and that would mean closer to the richest pickings. I had surcoats made for them all. I had learned that the sight of the wolf brought fear into the hearts of our enemies. I had to have my standard repaired too. It was riven with many bolts and arrows. The sewn repairs were badges of honour.

  Eventually, as the harvest was gathered in, we were ready to march. The journey to Gloucester would take six days. If the army had all been mounted we could have done it in three. Henry had sent his marcher lords a message for them to gather in Gloucester. He led a hundred knights and a hundred men at arms. With his forty crossbowmen and forty archers he had a well-balanced force. My men were not counted amongst his. The servants and baggage added another hundred to our column which snaked along the old Roman Road, Akeman Street, towards the west.

  We used the castles along the route to accommodate the senior knights. The men at arms and archers along with younger knights camped. When we were at Oxford castle Henry said, “That priest is a clever man. The Archbishop of Canterbury thinks I ought to make him Lord Chancellor.”

  “That would make sense lord. Your grandfather left the country rich. Stephen spent that money. You need someone who can gather in the money you need.”

  He smiled, “We are in agreement. At last I have a priest I can trust.”

  As we headed west I reflected that the last time I had been in the Thames Valley we had held Wallingford as an island against King Stephen. How things had changed. The knights who had fought for the Empress were now dead or living as priests. I was the last of them. The knights who rode alongside me had no idea of the battles we had fought. Henry had only been there with me and his mother briefly. It felt like another country and another life. Gloucester too was familiar. The old constable had been a stalwart ally of the Empress. I had fought here and my men had died.

  It was my pensive mood which prompted a question from Henry, “What worries you, lord?”

  I smiled, “Nothing, your majesty. It is the ghosts of the past who come to haunt me. It will pass.” I changed the subject, “This Lord Rhys, Maredudd ap Gruffyd, what exactly has he taken from us?”

  “Striguil and the manors thereabouts. He has fortified the castles in the valleys. We hold the coast but the road to the west is now in the hands of our foes. There are islands where the lords hold on; the de Clare family is one. It is the threat of attack which worries my lords here. The Severn Valley produces much of the food we eat. The whole of this land is the richest farmland in England. If the Welsh were to take it then we would be all the poorer. Striguil castle guards the way into Pembrokeshire. I fear that the lords we lost in the war with Stephen have not been replaced with men of mettle.”

  I thought he was being harsh but I let it pass.

  There was a fine gathering of knights in Gloucester but I recognised few of them. One was Sir William of Liedeberge. He was the castellan of my estate which lay to the north of Gloucester. I had not seen him in years. He had aged but, then again, we all had. He was pleased to see me.

  “It has been many years.” He frowned, “You still receive the dues I send?”

  “Of course. My steward commends you on your diligence.” In truth, I had no idea if he sent the dues but I was just grateful to have one knight upon whom I could rely and I would have a comfortable hall in which to sleep should I need it.

  “How many men do you have?”

  “Roger, my squire, fifteen men at arms and fifteen archers, lord. I have the levy too but…”

  I shook my head, “It is easier with soldiers rather than eager volunteers. Have you had any trouble from the Welsh?”

  “A few cattle raids; we caught and hanged them. We have had no trouble for a while. Those who live closer to Monmouth and Striguil are the ones who are plagued.”

  That made sense. There were few crossings of the Severn, Worcester, Tewkesbury, Upton upon Severn and Gloucester were the only ones. The bridges there were guarded well. The ones who raided my manor must have been desperate. The Wye was close by. They would have had to risk crossing through a defended town or taking a chance on a fast-flowing river.

  “Who else do you know, William?”

  “Walter De Clifford is the most vocal of the knights. He lost land around Striguil and he is keen to reclaim it. Richard de Clare is interesting. He is a fine knight although his father fought for King Stephen. Apparently, the King has revoked his title of earl. De Clare is not happy.”

  I had not known that when speaking to the King. It shed much light upon Henry’s thoughts. “Which is he?”

  He pointed to a tall knight. He had a red face but he had no beard. I saw him watching the King carefully. Most of the knights were all of an age with Richard de Clare. De Clifford was the oldest of them. None, save William, had fought with me.

  The King mounted his horse so that he might be seen. “We are pleased that so many of you heeded our call to reclaim the lands stolen by the Welsh. Just as the Warlord’s son, William is doing in the north, we shall do here. We will take back what is ours!”

  He had said the right thing. I saw Walter de Clifford shouting, “Long live King Henry!”

  Everyone took up the call. Henry knew how to say the right thing. It would not always be so but, in his youth he had that skill.

  “When all my knights are gathered we will cross the river and gather at Hereford!” This time Walther de Clifford looked less pleased. Hereford was north of Striguil.

  I turned to William, “Have the Welsh taken Hereford?”

  “Not yet lord but it has been attacked many times. There is a new cathedral there now and a bridge over the Wye.”

  I nodded. That made sense. I could understand why Henry wanted to keep Hereford. Striguil was lost. If we could defeat the Welsh near Hereford then it would make it easier to retake Striguil. It made me wonder at his intelligence. I had not known this. King Henry was a careful leader.

  He drew his sword, “We will retake the Welsh Marches!”

  That was what his lords wished to hear and his name was sounded by all. He dismounted and made his way to me. He was flanked by his bodyguards. They would not risk the King’s life here. “Well, Warlord?”

  “You set the right tone, majesty. It bodes well.”

  He was followed by de Clifford and de Clare. The two bodyguards began to draw their swords. I put my hands on their sword hands, “Easy, there are friends. They are just keen to speak with the King, is that not so gentlemen?”

  The
elder of the two, de Clifford, nodded, “Sorry your majesty but I was anxious to discover why you are not going to Striguil? The Welsh have not taken Hereford.”

  “I know and that is why we go there. It has the best crossing of the Wye and we can cross there and strike at the hinterland of Deheubarth. When we have inflicted a defeat on Lord Rhys, as he is styled, it will be much easier to take Striguil and I have sent ships from London. They will be here within the month. It means we can attack your home from two directions.”

  The old lord was mollified and he beamed, “I am sorry your majesty. I am anxious for my home to be back in Norman hands.”

  “And it will be.”

  He scurried off. The King looked at de Clare. I saw him frowning as he tried to remember his name, “Richard de Clare, your majesty. My lands are far to the west. My father was Earl…” He had a slightly high-pitched voice. It was not his fault but it was an annoying sound and I saw Henry’s nose wrinkle. It did not suit the King.

  “And you wish the title returned to you.” He shook his head, “I told the Bishop you sent that you may keep the land, I am not vindictive, but the title is not yours. Your father fought my mother. Until you have atoned for that then there will be no title.”

  “But…”

  “I have spoken.”

  He bowed but I saw anger on his face. He left us alone. The King had not been as diplomatic as he could have been. De Clare would have to be watched.

  “It would not cost anything to give him the title, your majesty and it would give you a strong ally.”

  “The de Clare family were staunch opponents of my mother and my uncle. The discussion is ended, Warlord.” I was summarily dismissed and my advice ignored.

  We settled into the comfortable hall. I did not need to ride to Liedeberge. It was almost twenty miles away. William did return home. We would have to pass his manor on the way to Hereford. He had to make sure that his lands were safe before he left for Hereford.

  I rose early the next morning. Phillip of Aix greeted me, “Lord, some visitors arrived just after dawn.” I waited. “They are Welsh and from the Kingdom of Powys. They wish to see the King.”