The Archer: Historical Fiction: exciting novel about Marines and Naval Warfare of medieval England set in feudal times with knights,Templars, and crusaders during Richard the lionhearted's reign

by Martin Archer

  There are more fighting men available than we need including several French knights and a German baron with an entire company of knights and men at arms and money to pay for their passage. We don’t take the baron or any of the knights; William says they look too arrogant and dangerous.

  An old Jew who claims to be a barber is the only non-fighting man we take without paying. He will pay for his passage by cutting the arrow out of Brian and bleeding poor Athol until he recovers.

  The out-going tide the cog needs is long past by the time we finish loading all the passengers and supplies. So if the winds are favorable we’ll be going out later on the evening tide. And we’re rich – we’ve got the Bishop’s money and we’re loaded with paying passengers.

  Passengers and new recruits are everywhere. They’re jammed on to the galley decks and in the cog’s newly bailed out cargo hold, all of which become foul and nasty from seasick passengers even before the tide takes us out of the harbor. I got seasick right along with them and so did William.

  And, of course, we don’t have any wine to sell to the sufferers so they can rinse out their mouths.

  @@@@@

  Our voyage to Cyprus takes more than three days. The galleys could have made it in half that time using their oars but the cog doesn’t have the wind it needs and the galleys dare not leave it on its own in these waters and row for Cyprus. These waters, if the sailors are to be believed, are filled with Saracen pirates.

  We aren’t taking any chances. Lord William is in one of the galleys with young George and me and half of the coins; Father Thomas is in the other galley with the other half.

  The two Bobs and the three archers who did not go to the taverns are in the cog with Randolph, one of the archers, as its sergeant and master. One of the former slaves we bought, the long red haired English sailor whose name is Harold and says he come from a place in England called Lewes, is now the sergeant of the cog’s sailors. William made him up to sergeant, he tells me, because he’s an Englishman with lots of experience captaining and piloting big sailing ships like our cog.

  The refugees who pay the most coins are in both the cog’s fore and aft castles. The rest are crammed on to the galleys or in the cog’s hold.

  @@@@@

  We make good time the first night but the wind fails in the morning so we just drift and bob up and down all day long while just about everyone gets seasick including me and my new lord. I know William is sea sick because I can see him periodically hanging over the rail of his galley like everyone else.

  No one wants to eat; obviously I bought much too much food. What I should have bought are ropes which the galleys could have used to tow us and more skins and carpets to keep us warm. Who would have thought it could be so cold on the water?

  On the second day the wind picks up and we make good time towards the northwest where Cyprus lays. That’s when our new barber gives Brian some of the old captain’s flower paste to eat and then cuts into his leg to dig out the arrowhead while some of the passengers and I sit on him to hold him down. Poor Brian screams and jerks about at first and then suddenly just relaxes and goes to sleep for ten or fifteen minutes while the barber hurries to finish his digging.

  Chapter Four

  “THE INFLUENCE OF MERCHANTS”

  We are going along at a decent clip with each galley’s square sail rigged and small bursts of periodic rowing to keep up with the cog when one of our new sailors shouts that he sees a ship in the distance. It’s a war galley, a two decker like ours, and it’s coming straight at us.

  William quickly sends his galley’s fighting men to their battle positions and some of our more able-bodied passengers take the places of the archers and men at arms who have been at the oars with the ex-slaves who decided to stay with us. William waits, however, before he has me take George into the captain’s little shelter in the bow of the galley – because, as tells me, he wants George to see what we do to get ready before the arrows start flying?

  He wants him to see how we get ready. Why would he do that?

  Thomas and Father William look at each other across the water between their galleys. I watch as they nod to each other in agreement.

  I know their plan. I had been the cog’s forward castle with them and Harold the red haired Englishman when they discussed the possibility we’d encounter pirates and agreed on what they would each do if that happens.

  If there is more than one pirate ship they intend to have our galleys lie near the cog on either side of it and wait for the pirates to come to us; if there is only one pirate they’ll wait until it almost reaches us and then leave the cog and go straight at it and use our anchors to grapple it on both sides while our archers rake its crew with their arrows - either way they’ll keep our archers out of sight until the last minute and not stray far from the cog.

  Their plan doesn’t work.

  We get ready and wait anxiously but the unknown galley suddenly veers off and soon disappears over the horizon to the front and left of us. It turns away and is gone before our two galleys have a chance to pull away from the cog and row towards it.

  The only interesting thing is that we don’t know anything about the galley; it flies no flag – but then we aren’t flying any flags either.

  Later we talk it over and decide our sailors are right - someone up on the enemy galley’s mast must have seen our archers crouching below the railings on the sides of our galleys’ hulls.

  It’s a learning experience. One of the newly released slaves, Harold, the red haired Englishman from Lewes, the man William appointed sergeant of the cog’s sailors because he’d been a cog’s master before being taken as a slave, yells across the water to William to say it looked just like the Algerian galley that had taken his cog and sold him into slavery in Tangiers some two years before.

  If it is the same galley, Harold Lewes shouts, it is ever so slightly smaller than ours with two banks of twenty oars on each side pulled by one slave at each oar in the lower bank of oars and about sixty fighting men on board armed with swords who row the upper bank until the fighting starts.

  The pirate’s technique, Harold explained to William and Thomas before we sailed, at least as it had been applied to the taking of his ship two years ago, is to rapidly come along side, grapple its victim, and then swarm aboard with swords – boarders without archers and armor, although they sometimes carry small shields.

  William and Thomas listened carefully and asked many questions; they obviously consider Harold’s observations to be very valuable. I must remember that.

  @@@@@

  Cyprus comes into view about noon of our third day at sea. I was napping with George in the little castle when Yoram came running to tell me.

  Four or five hours later we enter the harbor at Limassol. It is filled with all kinds of ships - including what looks like the Algerian galley we’d seen earlier and a number of single masted cogs like ours. There are also a large number of little fishing boats either in the water or beached up on the shore. We can see the logs that are used as rollers to help the boats on shore get back out into the water.

  We are more than a little surprised to see the Algerian galley because Cyprus has been under Christian rule for several centuries. At the moment it is a Roman Catholic kingdom and has been for several years ever since Richard captured it from its governor who answered to Orthodox Christian Constantinople - and then promptly sold it to the Order of Templars who then just as quickly sold it to Guy de Lusignon who just as promptly proclaimed the Kingdom of Cyprus with him as king. It had all been arranged.

  It’s all very confusing but, at least so far as we know, Cyprus is still a Christian kingdom except that now it has a Roman Catholic king answering to the Pope in Rome instead of an Orthodox king answering to the Patriarch in Constantinople. Either way Cyprus is relatively safe for Christians. That’s probably why so many of the refugees trying to escape from the Saracens want to come here. It certainly is why we are making Cyprus our first stop on our way back to E
ngland.

  We archers certainly know all about Cyprus becoming Roman Catholic. We fought here to help Richard take it some years ago in order to rescue his future queen. She and Richard’s sister were taken for ransom by Cyprus’ Orthodox governor when the women’s ship got separated from Richard’s in a storm and fetched up here. Indeed, we were with Richard right here in Limasol when he married Queen Berengaria - and then we went crusading with him on a good contract until he left to return to England.

  Unfortunately we stayed in the Holy Land and took up a contract with Lord Edmund when Richard left to follow his queen and sister back to France or England or wherever it is they went. On the other hand, perhaps it is fortunate we stayed since rumor has it that Richard and everyone traveling with him are missing and believed to be either dead or slaves or being held for ransom.

  In any event, we reach Cyprus with our seasick crew and passengers, and everyone else including our archers and me and my son, desperately anxious to get off the ships and plant our feet on dry land. And that’s exactly what happens – there is a mad stampede to get off our ships as soon as we tie up at the Limassol dock.

  I allow our sailors and fighting men to get off when the passengers do. I can hardly do otherwise since I want off myself. But I’m not taking any chances – I order all of our men to arm themselves and stay on the dock. I want them near our ships in case we need to fight the Algerians or make a hasty departure. Most of the men grudgingly comply, but several run.

  And, of course, Thomas and I are immediately accosted by a port official who wants a fee for using the dock. He accepts a gold bezant for all three ships and quickly disappears. And an hour later we learn that the dock fee is less than half that and is paid at the harbormaster’s office inside the city gate. We’ve been gulled.

  @@@@@

  One of the passengers on the cog is a tough looking Jewish merchant. He gets off and walks away with the other merchants as soon as the cog docks. But then he returns about thirty minutes later to speak with me as the fake port official is leaving.

  Yoram brings the merchant to me on the dock and stands by in case I need a translator. I don’t, of course, because, like most of the merchants hereabouts, the man is multi-lingual and speaks both Latin and the bastardized Norman French of the English Crusaders that some are now calling English.

  The merchant is one of the paying passengers we carried with us from Latika. He wants to know if we intend to return to Latika to get more passengers and their coins. If we do, he tells me, he wants to buy a passage and return with us. His name is Reuben something or other. He’d asked me yesterday if we planned to return and pick up another load of refugees but I’d been too seasick to pay him much mind.

  “You want to return? But then why did you come?”

  “To carry coins and arrange for the shipment of the things my father and his friends want me to buy with them.”

  “I’ll carry you back with a place in the cog’s rear deck castle for two gold bezants or their equivalent. But I don’t know when that will be - we are not going back until we find a defensible house or a very safe place to camp. We need some kind of safe place where we can care for our wounded men and protect my son and our possessions. Until we find such a place we’re going to stay on our ships where it is safer for us.”

  Reuben the merchant smiles.

  “Perhaps I can help you find what you want. I have friends and fellow merchants who have lived their entire lives here on Cyprus.”

  @@@@@

  My men and I spend a damp and restless spring night shivering on the cog with our galleys tied along its sides for protection. In the middle of the night one of our lookouts gives us a start when he suddenly shouts a warning that the Algerian galley, for that is what it is according to the men who visited the taverns and whorehouses last night, is getting underway on the other side of the harbor.

  Everyone stands to arms immediately and we listen to the swish and splashes of its oars as the Algerian moves past us and heads towards the harbor entrance. We are concerned that the Algerians might be launching a surprise attack to cut out one of our ships. But we need not have worried - it goes right on by. We watch in the moonlight until it disappears out the harbor into the darkness.

  In a way, it’s a pity the Algerians decided to leave - because Thomas and I had been thinking about using our newly recruited men to launch a cutting out expedition of our own. We had in mind to take the Algerian galley for ourselves and add it to our little fleet. But in the end we decided not to try because we have other plans for Cyprus and we aren’t sure how the authorities in Limassol might react - if there are any authorities here now that King Guy’s court is elsewhere on Cyprus.

  Finally Thomas and I talk it over and we reach the conclusion that it’s just as likely that our men who slipped away to the taverns last night alerted the Algerians to our strength - and they left because they were concerned that we might indeed try to take their ship instead of the other way around.

  @@@@@

  Early the next day as the sun comes up there is a loud hail from the nearby shore. Reuben the Jewish merchant is back. And he has a couple of men and a horse drawn wagon with him. There are also a number of men standing around on the beach waiting for us to come ashore.

  “There is a place you might find interesting,” Reuben shouts out to me from the beach as I lean over the rail and cup my hand to my ear to better hear him.

  “It’s right outside the city walls. It’s a good location because it means you can come and go as you please.”

  I look at Thomas and Thomas raises his eyes and gives a little “why not” shrug of his shoulders.

  “Okay. Give us a couple of minutes.” Then I order Randolph and the two Bobs to stay on board our ships with most of the archers and guard my son. And, of course, in doing so guard the coins, though we carefully don’t talk about them at all, not even to our veteran archers - because we want everyone to think they were all used to buy the ships and food.

  @@@@@

  A few minutes after Reuben, he’s the merchant who wants to return to Latika, hails us from the shore, my new lord empties the galleys of everyone except Brian and Athol and a couple of sailors to tend them. Then he tells about thirty of our men at arms to stand by to come ashore to accompany him and Father Thomas to whatever it is the merchants want to show him. All the rest of our archers and men at arms are to go to the cog and stay there to defend it until we return. And, of course, as I heard William explain to Father Thomas, to come for us as a rescue force if things go badly on shore. Randolph will be in command as the master sergeant until we return.

  I’m ashore with William and Thomas to translate if a translator is needed - and pleased to be included. The rest of the men are told to work on their weapons and stay on board the galleys that are now securely lashed to either side of the cog.

  Each of the Bobs, Long Bob from Chester and Bob farmer, is made the commanding sergeant of one of the galleys and Randolph is made the master sergeant over them and given charge of the cog and the overall command of the three ships. William and Thomas obviously think they are among the most dependable of their men.

  And yes, I definitely approve of the way William is taking no chances that this effort to get him ashore might be a ruse to take our ships. That Algerian galley may have gone out with the tide in the night but it’s obviously somewhere nearby and up to no good.

  William and Father Thomas and I study the waiting merchants and the gathering crowd as one of the seamen rows us to shore in the cog’s dinghy. They don’t look dangerous. At the same time, in response to some orders my new lord shouts out as we climb down to the dinghy, one of the galleys is untied from the cog and begins rowing its way to the dock to unload the men who will go with us to be our guards.

  Not one of the three merchants is armed so perhaps taking so many men as our guards is not necessary. On the other hand, neither William nor Thomas have been here for some years so that Cyprus and its dangers are unk
nown to them.

  @@@@@

  “Greetings and a good day to you Master Merchant, and what is it that you have to show us?”

  That is Father Thomas’s cheerful greeting to Reuben and the other man waiting with him as William, Father Thomas, and I jump one at a time from the front of the dinghy to the wet beach. William carries George ashore and puts him down as soon as he gets past the wet sand.

  “There is an old fortified stone farm house that might suit you for your quarters,” Reuben announces. “It’s outside the city walls and not in the best of condition but you can see the boats in the harbor from it and it could be quickly repaired. It could be turned into a rather nice little fortress if you have the men to do the work or are willing to hire local men to do it for you.”

  Before William can answer we are besieged with cries and entreaties from the other men on the beach who begin gathering around us. They look and sound like a bunch of sailors and men at arms seeking employment. And that is what they are. With a few exceptions it is a pretty motley looking bunch of destitute men.

  “I am interested,” William assures Reuben as he held up his hand to stop him from continuing. “But first I must deal with these men” and give my archers and men at arms who are still unloading from the galley time to get here before we go off with you.

  Then William turns and shouts to the gathering crowd in English and then in French. He points at Father Thomas as he speaks.

  “Are there any men who speak English or want to join our company as archers or men at arms? If so, get in line and speak to the priest.”

  Men jostle each other and hot words are exchanged in a number of tongues as Father Thomas and I get the waiting people in a semblance of a line to be interviewed. They all want employment except for a few who want passage to the Holy Land or other places. This time, at least, there are no desperate women offering themselves and their daughters.