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

by Hosker, Griff

  I looked at the King, “Your majesty?”

  I saw that he was unsure. All of his lord’s words made sense and yet I appeared so confident. I was the Warlord of the North and I knew that he had heard of me. He would have heard of the raid the Earl of Gloucester and I had made in the north. I later learned that he was quite intelligent. He should have asked the question, where are their archers, but he did not. Instead he sided with his lord. “Leave our land or die! I have spoken. Bring your horses and we will feast on their bones!”

  Llewellyn ap Cynan laughed, “Well spoke majesty!” The fact that he spoke Norman told me that the words were for our benefit as well as the King’s confidence.

  I turned and we rode back to our lines. What they had not realised was that my line had moved two hundred paces closer to the Welsh. We would not have as far to walk. When we reached our men, we dismounted. The whole of my line did. Servants, pages and peasants led the horses away from the front line. Arne handed me a spear and I turned to face the Welsh line. I saw that they had barely managed to replace the bushes and hurdles they had used to make their defensive barrier.

  “James sound the horn!”

  The horn sounded three times. I waited until our giant hedgehog was ready and I shouted, “Forward for King Henry and England!”

  My men cheered. We marched to battle.

  Chapter 17

  We did not run but we stepped forward at a good pace. The ground was flat and still hard after the night’s frost. It would be harder once we neared their ditch but we had caught them unawares. I saw the men behind the barrier pointing at us. A few desultory arrows rose into the sky. I pulled my shield up. I heard a couple clatter, ineffectually on the shields of the men behind me. That was a sign of their nerves. They should have released together. We were close enough for me to hear the angry voices of sergeants ordering their men into some sort of order.

  I fixed my eye on the hurdles and bushes they had replaced to allow the King and his party through. They had not been fixed in place. I could see just twenty paces behind the barrier the King and his handful of knights on their horses. Their banners made a target I would use. I held my spear half way down. It was easier that way. When I drew close I would hold it closer to the end. Then it would be much heavier. I heard an order sounded. It was the command to release arrows. This time, when they fell, it sounded like hail in a thunderstorm. I also heard cries. It could have been warriors whose shields were not in the right position or it could be the peasants and unarmoured men who followed us. Casualties were to be expected.

  The ditch was just twenty paces from us. I saw that they had just taken a couple of spadefuls of earth and used that to make a mound in which they had planted hurdles and bushes. It was insubstantial. As we neared it I heard a collective wail from ahead. I did not need to ask what it was. I knew. King Maredudd ap Gruffyd had just discovered that I did have archers. Arrows still fell and my men still died but there were fewer of them as the Welsh archers had to respond to the threat from behind. Rhodri had obeyed my commands and sprung my trap.

  Stepping into the ditch was the hard part. For a brief moment I did not have the protection of other shields and then I was through. The hurdle and bush defence was two paces from the ditch. Lowering my shield to my front I shifted the grip on my spear and waited for a moment. I felt Arne and Sir William press their shields into my back and I shouted, “Forward!”

  Ironically their defence, intended for horses, worked in our favour. They could not strike us. I realised that the one part of my plan which would not be as I had outlined it would be the fact that I would not be the one behind the flanks. As the three of us pushed, the hastily repaired fence fell away. It was not men at arms who awaited us but archers. They had neither armour nor shields. I rammed my spear at a surprised looking archer. I twisted and pulled. He fell writhing to the ground. The weakened fence was brushed aside by my conroi.

  I spied Llewellyn ap Cynan as he lowered his spear and led his men to charge us. “Halt!”

  I braced my spear against my foot and supported it with my shield hand. Llewellyn ap Cynan came directly for me. I saw him pull back his arm as his horse trampled over archers who could not get out of the way in time. He thought we would break. I was willing to let his horse crash into me but I knew it would not come to that. Had we been one single line then the beast might have vaulted over us but we were a hedgehog of spears. As Llewellyn ap Cynan rammed his spear at me his horse baulked. The spear struck air. I took my chance and thrust my spear with two hands at his thigh. The spear head tore through the mail, into his leg and into his saddle. The tip must have pricked the horse because it jinked and jerked to the side as it tried to flee the pain. Llewellyn ap Cynan was a good rider. He kept his saddle and dropped his spear. Two other knights had tried the same technique. One lay dead and the other was beneath his mortally wounded horse.

  Our very success slowed us down for we had dead men and horses before us. We clambered over them and I saw that our wedges were almost intact. King Maredudd showed his true mettle. He shouted orders. I could not hear what they were but a double line of spearmen backed by knights began to form before us. It was brave. His archers had lost the battle with mine. He was buying them time to flee the field. He knew that, in a long campaign, he would need archers.

  We marched towards the spearmen. Some were mailed some were not. The twenty knights and squires who were behind were. The King was giving his support to the sixty or so spearmen who waited for us. Sadly, for them they would not all be receiving our attack at the same moment. There would be ten points of attack. Each point would be a lord. They were better armed and trained than the spearmen. I readjusted my spear again. We marched across the body littered field. A double line of spears awaited us. Four or five spears would strike at me. I pulled my shield up a little more. With my full-face helmet, the only vulnerable spots were the eye slits and Alf had made what appeared to be eyebrows. They were cunningly created for they would catch a spear as it came at me. It still meant I could lose an eye but it was unlikely that I would be killed.

  It was six spears which thrust at me. It was too many for they got in each other’s way. One hit me just above the eye slit, one on the top of the helmet and the other four hit my shield. My left arm and shoulder would ache the next day. I thrusted blindly upwards as Sir William and Arne used their spears to strike too. I heard a grunt and felt something soft. I punched with my shield and leaned into the Welsh. I was close enough to see a bearded Welshman facing me. He began to curse me. My spear was in him and the press of men around him prevented him from pulling away. I pushed harder and twisted. I saw a tendril of blood seep from his lip. He adopted a frozen expression and then the life went from his eyes. As he fell, I felt my spear going with him and so I released it.

  Holding my shield before me I drew my sword. This was a better weapon for a shield wall battle. I reached up with my sword hand and pulled forward the shield held by the spearman to my right. It came towards me and Arne rammed his spear though his surprised mouth. His spear came out of the back and into the next man. We had broken through their two lines. I saw the King debating what to do. One of the knights to his right took the decision for him. He grabbed the reins of his horse and led the King away. It was probably the right thing to do but it cost many Welshmen their lives. The sight of the King and his knights fleeing was the signal for a rout.

  I heard de Clare shout, “Horses!” He must have had a better view than I did but it was the correct decision. The chase to Striguil was on.

  Even though they were routing the battle was still not over. The castle was still held and individual pockets of foolish Welshmen fought on. I saw that de Braose had obeyed my orders. He was shouting to the peasants to follow his men.

  I saw a dozen of them come towards me, “Obey your orders. Follow Lord Braose!”

  A couple looked at me as though I was speaking a foreign language. Harry Lightfoot growled, “Over there, you dozy turnip picker!”
He pointed with his sword as he kicked one in the rump. They turned and headed to the castle. Harry grinned, “Sorry lord but you have to use the right words.”

  Lame Tom had ridden Warrior and led another four horses. He was a master with animals. My other servants led the rest. I mounted Warrior while Tom held a spear. A knight who chased needed a spear. Men on foot would lie on the ground out of the reach of swords. We had to make the Welsh fear us. That meant being ruthless. I surveyed the battle. I saw that we had lost a few men at arms but the casualties we had suffered appeared to be peasants. De Braose had reached the walls of the castle and they were now slammed shut. De Giffard had taken prisoner those who had surrendered.

  I turned to Sir William, “Take your men and head down the Striguil road. Keep your men together but do not let the Welsh rally.”

  “Aye lord.” He smiled, “A great victory. I had almost forgot the taste.”

  “James, stay here and organize the men. I will go and speak with de Giffard and de Braose.” Turning Warrior, I galloped over the field. There were wounded men and there were dying men. The wounded looked up fearfully as I galloped past. I halted close to de Giffard. “Keep the knights for ransom.”

  “And the men at arms and peasants?”

  “Let the wounded go. Put the rest to work. Have them take down our camp and fetch it to Striguil.”

  “Aye Warlord. Your plan worked.”

  He sounded surprised. “If it had not I had another. This is just the beginning, de Giffard. The King has charged us with reclaiming that which was lost. Lord Braose, collect the enemy dead and burn them where the smell and the smoke will reach the castle. It will make them more likely to surrender. When it is surrendered then garrison it and follow us!”

  “Aye lord.”

  Whipping Warrior’s head around I rode back to my men. De Clare had his horses and he fell in behind us as we headed down the road to Striguil. In the distance, I saw Sir William’s men and they were being followed by de Clifford. We had at least three conroi of men. That was more than enough to deal with the stragglers we might meet. As we reached the town I saw Rhodri and our archers. They were leading their horses.

  I reined in and waved de Clare forward, “Keep your swords in their backs.”

  “Aye lord.”

  “You did well, Rhodri.”

  He nodded, “Some of the archers from the other lords were not as disciplined as they ought to have been, lord. We lost more men than we should but it went well enough. We need more arrows, lord.”

  He sounded apologetic, “Go back to the camp and rest. Have food before you join us. This is a day for men on horses. Follow with de Giffard. He will be bringing the camp with him. Your mounted archers will ensure that he has no trouble.”

  I waved James and my men forward. We passed a few dead men who had been caught by my horsemen. Only their knights had been mounted. The more sensible of the peasants and men at arms had left the road and headed away from the thunder of pursuing horse. That was part of my plan. If they fled east and west they could not go south and reinforce Striguil. I wanted as few warriors in Striguil as possible.

  The delay speaking with Rhodri meant that we were alone on the road. As we approached the hamlet of Trelleck I slowed down. I had spoken with de Clifford about his lands and knew that the road forked at Trelleck. Both forks ended up at Striguil and the sea. Which one did we take?

  We reined in at the hamlet. I saw a couple of dead men. The awkward angle of their bodies suggested that they had been fleeing horsemen. I looked south. The road to the east led by the Wye while the other took a longer loop west. There were woods ahead of us.

  Arne said, “It looks to me as though both lead where we want to go lord.” He pointed to the churned-up ground. The hard frost had melted and hooves had galloped along the verges of the two roads south. “I would say that our men have taken both roads.”

  I nodded, “Then we will take the Wye road.”

  We turned our horses and headed south along the river road. Sometimes we think we make decisions but we do not. They are meant to be. So it proved, that late autumn morning as we rode cautiously down the tree lined road. We did not gallop. We had lost too much time already and I did not want to thrash our horses to death. Ahead of me were three larger conroi of men. They would follow the King to Striguil. As I followed Harry Lightfoot and Arne Arneson I began to calculate what forces might be waiting for us in Striguil. The Welsh had fought with no more than forty or fifty knights and horsemen. We had accounted for at least twenty. The garrison would not be a large one. King Maredudd would be holding Striguil with less than fifty men. He might see reason. I had seen, during the battle, that he was intelligent. It had been Llewellyn ap Cynan who had been reckless. The King might accept the loss of two recaptured castles in the hope that he could build up an army and then retake them.

  Our cautious gait was what saved us. A rabbit darted from the woods to the east and that made Arne stop. He was an experienced warrior. Animals do not race in front of trotting horses unless they are startled. When men are around they freeze and remain still. He and Harry had their shields up and their gaze to the left as a wounded Llewellyn ap Cynan and ten horsemen galloped out of the woods. They had been hidden inside the trees and now they burst towards us.

  He screamed as he charged directly at me with his sword held before him, “I will end your life Norman! I will have honour before my King!”

  Pulling our shields up, we all wheeled our horses around to face the threat. We had rearmed with spears and the Welsh knights and men at arms had shattered theirs in the battle. As they came towards us I could see that their horses were already lathered. They had ridden them hard. It was the difference between us. They had surprise on their side and they had speed. We had fresher horses and longer weapons.

  I spurred Warrior and pulled back my arm. I could see that Llewellyn ap Cynan had a bloody leg from my spear thrust. He had had a bandage applied but that was red. He was weaker. His anger gave him the strength. His face was a mask of hatred. Warrior’s sudden burst brought us together quickly. As I pulled his head to the left I thrust with my spear over Warrior’s head. The Welsh lord’s sword slashed and scythed towards where my head might have been. My spear rammed over the cantle of his saddle and into his side. With his weakened leg, he tumbled from the back of his horse. I dropped my spear and drew my sword as a second knight saw his chance and rode at me.

  “My brother will be avenged Norman! Prepare to die!”

  He must have thought that he could not miss me. My right hand was weaponless and he was but four paces from me. Warrior was well trained. The breeder had done well with him. As I pulled up the shield I used my knees and body weight to shift him around to the right. I used us both as a barrier. The Welshman’s horse tried to turn away from the obstacle before him. The rider jerked him back around for he wished to used his sword. He was parallel with me as he brought his sword to smash into my shield. He was young and he was powerful. The blow shivered my arm. I drew my own sword and, as I stood in the stirrups, swung it at him. His shield was on the wrong side and he had to flick his sword up to block the blow. Our swords rang together.

  I wheeled Warrior to the left. The Welshman’s back was exposed. We were in the woods now and isolated. This was a battle between two knights. He spurred his horse and wheeled it around a tree. It was a clever move and took him away from me. I was patient. He was angry and wished vengeance. I did not need to chase him. He saw an old man and he thought he would defeat me. The white hairs in my beard belied my strength and skill.

  He charged again. His horse was, like his brother’s, lathered. I held Warrior and prepared my sword. His horse could not gallop and so I waited his arrival. He came at my sword side and so I pricked Warrior’s sides. He jumped forward and we swung our swords together. He was aiming at my head. I was aiming at his sword guard. Mine was a stronger sword. As they clashed and cracked together sparks flew. I drove his sword towards him and the blade smacked
into his nasal. As his head went back I used my quick hands to pull my arm back and swing at his middle. His sword was in the wrong position and he could not block the blow. My sword sliced through the mail links and ripped into his gambeson. I pulled Warrior’s head around and saw that my sword was bloody.

  I am not certain that he felt the cut to his middle. His nose was bleeding and I guessed that his eyes were streaming from the sword blow. He turned his horse to continue the fight. “Yield, you are wounded!”

  “It is nothing. I do not yield. I fight on!” He tried to spur his horse again but the horse was weary.

  “Then you are doomed to die!” I stood in my saddle and swung my sword horizontally. His vision was impaired and his sword blocked nothing. My edge took his head. It tumbled from his shoulders. After a heartbeat, his body slid from the saddle.

  “Lord!”

  I turned and saw James, besmirched with blood, and Roger of Bath riding through the trees towards me. “I am safe. And the rest?”

  “We slew five and the rest fled when they saw their lord dead.”

  “Roger of Bath, take this warrior and put his body on his horse. He was a foolish knight but a brave one.”

  We loaded the bodies of the knights on to their horse. John son of John and Wilson of Bristol had wounds but they were not serious. We rode down the last few miles to Striguil. This was a substantial castle and my heart sank as we emerged from the woods and saw it rising above the river and estuary. I wondered how de Clifford could have lost it. The only place to attack was from the landward side and, like Chinon, it had a high position and strong walls.

  Despite the fact that is was de Clifford’s castle, Richard de Clare had taken charge. His men had begun to build a line of defences between the town and the castle. That was the right thing to do. It meant we could use the houses for food and shelter whilst denying the castle any aid. I dismounted and walked over to William of Liedeberge, “How many managed to get inside?”