Welsh War

by Griff Hosker

  “No matter what the intentions it was you who crossed the river and drew first blood.”

  “You argue like a lawyer and I have little time for them either.” I heard hooves on the grass. I knew it would be Fótr.

  The Prior was determined to have the last word, “I shall make representations! The King shall hear of this and the King’s Council. If the boy will not act then I am sure that the Bishop of Winchester will!”

  King Henry threw back his hood, “I am King Henry, tell me, Prior. Tell the boy!” The Prior was stunned into silence. “The Earl acted with my full permission. He has ensured that these animals will not kidnap our women nor steal our cattle. And I am here to tell you that if we even suspect that there is a raid in the offing then we will act. I am a boy but, Prior, you should fear the man I will become!”

  I smiled for I saw the King growing.

  Chapter 10

  The lull before the storm

  We spent a week at Norham. We ransomed the knights and their men. The ordinary warriors were surprised. They had expected a warrior’s death. Our leniency surprised them. We took reparations from the Scots and two hostages. Sir Richard would guard them at Norham. We set the time they would be held as a year. That done we headed back to Stockton. We had all made coin from the action. That had not been our intention but with winter coming it was useful. The Palatinate knights and those from Bamburgh returned to their respective castles. Sir Geoffrey penned a letter for Rebekah.

  The end of autumn and the start of winter hit us as we crossed the Tyne. It was raining and windy but the rain had the edge of sleet to it and that would presage winter. I smiled as I saw the King try to envelop himself in his cloak. This was the north and it was a harsh and unforgiving environment. It was, as Sir Edward might have said, a little fresh. Alfred nudged his horse next to mine as Sir Edward and Sir Fótr headed towards their manors. “I know that I upset you once and I would not do so again. When do you think we should wed?”

  I smiled, “Women like summer weddings. They like the flowers and the sunlight. You, I think, wish to make her your bride as soon as you can. I do not mind. I will be heading back to London soon with the King but you do not need me to be at the wedding.”

  He shook his head, “You are the reason we found each other. Had you not intervened then she would still be a prisoner of an evil man. I will speak with Matilda but is a Christmas wedding a bad thing?”

  “There is no such thing as a bad wedding. Unless, of course, you are a king and are forced to marry. Speak with Matilda and then your mother. I do not think that the King will be in any hurry to leave for the south.” I turned in my saddle. The King, his solitary knight and his captain had become close on the journey south. I watched their animated talk. He was free from the restrictions of the Council and he was enjoying discovering just who he was. I hoped for a long sojourn in my home. I missed my wife and my daughters. I was about to lose one of them.

  One good thing about arriving from the north was that we had to ride through Stockton. It was always a pleasure. Even without the King it would have been a warm welcome. With him it felt as hot as the Holy Land. They applauded and they cheered. They called my name, Alfred’s and the King’s. The whores from the alehouses called out lewd comments to the men at arms and archers who passed by. With Scottish coins in their purses they would enjoy their homecoming. My own homecoming was slightly warmer than my last one. Riders had returned to warn them of our arrival for we had had wounded. We were expected. As we entered the inner bailey grooms rushed to take our horses. Already a fog was forming on the Tees and a fire accompanied by mulled wine beckoned.

  Margaret kissed me and whispered, “It is good that you are home and that you had no losses.”

  “I was lucky.”

  “That is because you are a good man and God smiles on you.” She stopped, “And the wedding?”

  “Alfred will speak with you but I think he leans to one sooner rather than later.”

  “And I agree. Poor Matilda was treated so badly in Skipton that it will take skill to make her happy again. And the King?”

  “I have yet to speak with him.” I stopped. “Have there been missives from the south?”

  She nodded. “Three from London and one from Pembroke.”

  “The ones from London can wait. They are from the Council. I will read the one from Pembroke.” I shook my head, “I must be turning into a witch for I know what it will say.”

  “The Earl Marshal?”

  “Aye.” I tore the seal.

  Pembroke

  Earl Cleveland,

  I have the sad duty to report that my father, William Marshal, Earl Marshal of England and Earl of Pembroke died last night.

  I would thank you for the service you did him and the responsibility you took from his shoulders. He was able to enjoy a month with his family. Such a time was rare. He served England and was abused for it. You and the King were in his thoughts to the end. I hope that King Henry realises the sacrifices my father made for his country. When time allows I would speak with you.

  I fear that the Welsh will take advantage of my father’s death. We have lost two border castles already. The Welsh gather like carrion on our borders. I pray to God for a strong King.

  William Marshal,

  Earl of Pembroke

  It was a sad letter and a disturbing one. The new Earl appeared to blame the Royal family for their father’s death. The Earl Marshal’s words came back to me. He and his son had fallen out. This did not bode well. When I reached the Great Hall, I was almost assaulted by Isabelle and Rebekah. They hugged me and grabbed my arm. Rebekah whispered in my ear, “My future husband is alive?”

  I took, from my belt, the letter Geoffrey had given to me. “Here, I know the welcome was for Geoffrey and not me. Go and read.”

  She looked hurt, “Geoffrey will be my husband and will hold a large part of my heart but you are my father. You have all of my heart for without you I am nothing,” She kissed me and fled.

  Isabelle said, “You have yet to find me a husband and so I shall cling to your arm until you do!”

  I laughed, “You are not yet sixteen!”

  “Yet Isabelle, King Henry’s mother, was wed at twelve! That is one of the perils of educating your daughters. They know more than they should.” She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. “I am teasing father. Rebekah and Alfred can have a wedding this year. Then when I have my husband chosen it will be the biggest wedding of the year!” Isabelle was the cleverest of my children. I pitied her husband. She was more like Aunt Ruth than any.

  I hurried to my room for I felt sweaty and dirty. I would have, if the King allowed, Christmas at home. Who knew when I would have another. I would make the most of it. My wife followed me and helped me to undress. A servant had already brought in hot water and soap. My wife was proud of the fact that we could afford such luxuries. As she dried me she said, “The Earl’s death makes you the most powerful noble in the land.”

  “There are others who have great power.”

  “Yet you command the respect of the great and the good. It is no secret that the Earl Marshal thought you his successor. If you chose you could rule this land through King Henry.”

  I held her at arm’s length. “Do you really believe that?” She said nothing. “If you do then you do not know me. I seek to serve England and its king. If someone else could or would do it then I would be happy. I would hunt and watch my grandchildren grow!”

  She smiled and kissed me, “I know. I was just testing you. You have spent so much time away that I know not who you are sometimes. It is good to know you are still the same as the young knight who rescued me.”

  I disliked the games women played!

  I was the first down to the Great Hall and my Aunt joined me. She smiled, “When I was younger I would spend hours preparing a face to meet and greet other faces. Now I just smile. This is my face. You can like it or not. I care not a jot. You had a good campaign?”

  M
y aunt was not like other women. The early death of her husband and the lack of children had imbued her with an interest in all things military. I did not condescend and I told her exactly what we had done.

  “And the King listened?” I nodded. “He is not like his father then!”

  “He listened and he is young. He will grow. He showed signs of that rarity amongst kings; common sense!”

  “The servants said William Marshal is dead.”

  “Aye.”

  “He was a great man but your great grandfather was greater, as are you! England will come to thank you for what you do for Henry.” My aunt believed that her family was the best in the land. When she passed over to the other side we would never see her like again. “So we have two weddings. The girls would like them separate I am sure but economics and needs of the manor would say that they should happen at the same time.”

  “That is not for me to decide! I am just the father!”

  She laughed, “Fear not you have good children! I have brought them up well! Enjoy this night and enjoy the weddings. You have earned some pleasure! I will watch the King for signs of weakness!”

  The homecoming feast was joyous. Even though Sir Geoffrey was still in Durham, Rebekah knew he was alive and she was able to ask her brother about the campaign. I think the King revelled in the good humour which pervaded my hall. He was used to a dining experience which was dependent upon where you sat and who you knew. Here there was no pecking order. Sir Richard had grown into his role and the two were quite close. The fact that my captains, steward and priest attended the feast seemed to bemuse the King. For myself I just enjoyed the sight of all of my family gathered together. There were no harsh words and all got on with each other. Remembering the Princes’ revolt, I knew that it could so easily have gone in a different direction.

  Tam the Hawker had been hunting and the deer we ate had been hung perfectly. The wine, from my manor in Anjou, was from a good harvest. The bread was a favourite of mine. It was a mixture of barley and oats. The soup was a fish soup which would have put those of Paris to shame. I found myself drinking too much and eating more than I should. I did not care. I was aware that I spoke less than any other. That was because I enjoyed hearing their words. The King relaxed and became slightly tipsy. I smiled as I saw Sir Richard trying to manage him. He failed. When the King fell backwards from his chair a situation which could have been disastrous was deemed hilarious and all laughed until they cried, including the King. Sir Richard caught my eye and shrugged. King Henry had, for the first time in his life, a family. It was mine but I did not mind sharing.

  Despite the drinking I was up early and after I ate a little bread and cheese to settle my stomach, I strode through Stockton’s streets. I wished to enjoy the company of my people. The burghers had all been up since dawn. I was greeted warmly. They used my title but did not do in a way which made me uncomfortable. Those who had provided for us asked if that which they had given was suitable. Those whose husbands, fathers, sons and brothers served with me kissed my hand and thanked me for their safe return. A walk around my streets made my feet find the bedrock that was England.

  Harry the Fletcher had his workshop at the north east end of my town. It was close to the river gate which lay there. He and his sons were busy fitting fletches to the arrows when I reached the gate. “Morning, my lord.”

  “Morning Harry, boys. How goes the world?”

  “We are happy that you continue to fight the enemies of England. David of Wales came last night to order more arrows.”

  “He did not have to use as many as usual.”

  Harry nodded, “They are not the knight killers he asked for. It was the barbed ones.” I nodded for I was already thinking of the next time they would draw a bow in anger. “David said that the King stays in Stockton.”

  “He will be our guest.”

  “It is an honour for our town and we hear there will be weddings too.”

  I smiled. The news was probably in Stockton’s streets while the words still echoed in my hall. “It will be a rarity. There will be two winter weddings.”

  “So long as they are happy, lord, then it matters not. I married Agnata when I was but fifteen. It was right and my three sons and two daughters are proof of that. I wish Sir Alfred and Lady Rebekah well. They always spoke courteously to us.”

  As I headed back to the castle I thought on his words. Margaret and I had been determined that our children should be brought up to be polite to all. That policy could now be seen to have worked. While in many manors the lord and his family were regarded as a necessary evil here in Stockton the people felt part of the manor. When my children ran Seamer and Elton they would, I hoped, carry on that legacy. The weddings would also bring prosperity to the town. I knew from Aunt Ruth that in the time of the Warlord if ladies wished fine clothes they had to travel to York to buy them. Since we had put the cut in the river, we had more trade and now we had seamstresses who made fine clothes for our merchants were able to buy good cloth. Ladies now sent to Stockton to have their clothes made. Egbert would have a new tunic made for me for the wedding. Margaret, our daughters and my Aunt would summon Mary Finestitch to the hall and I would pay in gold for their finery. That would trickle back to Stockton and all would benefit. We had plenty of coin. The ride to Scotland had brought gold and silver as well as good horses. The Scots would rue their rash decision to raid for cattle. They would have to do what they always did when a raid on England failed, they would fight amongst themselves.

  As I entered my castle then I knew that I could no longer put off reading the letters from the council. I had wanted to read the one from William Marshal. I did not want to read these. I sat in my office. There had been a chill in the air and so Egbert had heated and honeyed my ale. I sipped some before I slit open the first letter. It was just a simple one to tell me that the Carta Foresta, Charter of the Forest, had been drafted and that it just required the King’s seal. There was a request for him to return and sign it. I was pleased that the charter had been drafted for that would make the majority of the land happy. There would be some lords who resented sharing their forests with the poorer folk but as the King owned more forests than any few ordinary people would suffer. The Bishop of Winchester wondered when we would return. The second letter was a little more urgent in tone. This time is was from Hubert de Burgh. The date was a week later than that from des Roches. He asked when would the King be returned to his council. The third was positively rude. It stated that the Charter of the Forest had been issued with the King’s seal applied by Hubert and the letter demanded that the King be returned to London where he could rule. I smiled. What the Council meant was that they would have more legitimacy to their rule if the King was there.

  I summoned my clerk. Leofric had been born with a hunch. His father had been John Wayfarer. As Leofric’s mother had died in childbirth my wife and Aunt Ruth had brought up the boy. His infirmity meant he could not be a warrior as his father had been. It had been my aunt who had taught him his letters and, more importantly, his writing. He had a beautiful hand. His deformity did not impede his skill and he actually benefitted from sitting and writing. He was happy and had married Ada, one of Aunt Ruth’s maids. I hoped that John Wayfarer was in heaven and happy that we had cared for his boy.

  “Yes, my lord?” He had a wax tablet. He would use that to make notes and then draft the letters. If he made a mistake he was quite happy to rewrite them but I rarely found an error which needed a new letter.

  “We have letters to send.”

  He nodded. “Parchment or vellum lord?”

  Vellum was calfskin and was an expensive item. Parchment was a little cruder and could come from any animal. “Vellum for the letter to the King’s Council and William Marshal. Parchment for the others.”

  “Aye lord.”

  I did not dictate. My aunt had taught Leofric the right phrases to use. I knew that he would happily ask my aunt for verification if he was unsure. I told him what to write t
o the Council. I explained what the King had done and that he would be spending Christmas in the north. I promised that we would return south when the weather improved. The second letter was for William Marshal. I sent my condolences for his loss and promised that I would help him if I could. After his father’s words at Windsor I was more guarded than I might have been. The other letters would be the same. They were invitations for my knights to the weddings. We had set the date; the day after Christmas, St Stephen’s day. The Sheriff of York would be the one who would have the furthest to travel. If the roads were bad then I knew he might struggle to reach us. There were lords from Durham I would invite. I invited the Bishop of Durham but I knew that it would be unlikely that he would travel. Richard Marsh was a dedicated Prince Bishop. He kept the Palatinate safe and the frivolity of a pair of weddings would be a distraction.

  I knew that I was giving Leofric a great deal of work. “The important letter is the one to the Council. If that could be ready by the morrow then the others can wait until the end of the week.”

  “I will have them all done by the end of tomorrow, lord. The invitations will not take long.”

  After he had gone I left my office and went to the warrior hall. I would need two riders to take the letters. The Sheriff would be able to send the one to the Council by sea. It was a safer way than by road. Henry Youngblood knew which two to send. He was a fair man and a visit to York was something of a perk. He did not play favourites. “I will send James and John. It is some time since they enjoyed the ale in The Saddle Inn.”

  “Good.”

  “There is one more thing lord. Ralph of Appleby has four men who wish to be men at arms. They arrived while we were in Scotland. They had served Sir Henry of Gargrave. It seems they were the last of the old knight’s retainers. They were forced to leave the land when Lord Hugh of Craven began his reign of terror.” He hesitated. “They had been living as outlaws in the Forest of Bowland. They brought little with them.”