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

  I’m trying to gull him - we’re not taking all the coins; some will be buried under the citadel’s dirt floor in case we have to leave England in a hurry.

  Then I shake my head sadly.

  “The raiders, of course, will be making many bad mistakes. Not only will they make an enemy of Lord William and take terrible losses and find no coins, but he will undoubtedly come back and kill them even if they do destroy our compound and its citadel, which is unlikely because they will be so strongly defended. Unfortunately, of course, it will be too late to save your life.”

  The poor man rears his head back and sits up in surprise. He can’t believe what he just heard and he certainly doesn’t understand it.

  “What? What did you just say?”

  “Oh, I can see by your face that no one’s warned you?” I said. “Well then it’s probably a good thing I’ve come. Might I ask if you’ve heard about the Old Man on the mountain and his assassins?”

  “Of course,” the governor responds warily as he stares at me intently, “everybody has. But it’s just a tale.”

  “Unfortunately it’s not a tale. It’s true. Very true. The assassins exist; just ask King Guy or any of the men who served with him in Jerusalem. In any event I’m here because the merchants in Tyre paid the old man to kill someone right here on Cyprus if our compound is raided - you.”

  The governor is surprised. Totally surprised. His mouth actually drops open in shock and disbelief, and then he snaps it shut and irately and loudly demands to know what I the hell I’m talking about. God he has a foul breath.

  “As you know governor, one of our galleys just came back from Tyre with a load of refugees. It brought with it information about our danger and yours. It seems the merchants in Tyre heard a rumor, a false rumor of course, that someone, probably you, will raid our compound while we’re gone even if there are no coins there for them to steal.

  In a nutshell, they are worried that if you destroy our post Lord William will decide to quit Cyprus and ruin their chances of escaping the Saracens - so they’ve made arrangements for you to die if anyone raids or there are rumors that you are planning one. They think you being dead will encourage William to return even if your raid is successful.”

  It’s not true, of course, but that’s what I tell him. God will forgive me.

  By now the poor fool is anxiously pacing back and forth in front of me. He’s totally confused and doesn’t know whether to be angry or worried or both. It is all I could do not to laugh as I plough on.

  “Yes, I’m afraid it’s true,” I continue sadly. “The assassins, you know, don’t kill their victims directly. He doesn’t know that and neither do I. The way they work is to have someone the victim knows kill him. So if they hear of a raid on our compound, or even of a plan for one, they will merely send a message to someone who knows you such as King Guy or one of your knights – either you kill your governor or we kill you.

  It always works, you know, because the man who gets the Old Man’s message doesn’t want to take a chance of being killed himself. It’s how the assassins kill someone without risking themselves.”

  Finally the poor fellow finds his voice.

  “That’s impossible,” he croaks. “Impossible I tell you.”

  “Impossible that King Guy will kill you to save himself? Or someone like his Chamberlain won’t try to save himself? Think man. Of course they’ll kill you to save themselves. They know the assassins mean it when they send the ultimatum. Someone always dies.”

  “But what should I do.”

  “Why do nothing, of course - and hope that rumors or news of a raid never reach the assassins’ agent on Cyprus.”

  Then I pretend to think for a moment.

  “There is one thing you could do.” I suggest. “It would probably save you.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  THE BATTLE AT TUNIS

  There are a surprising number of women and children weeping and tearing their hair on the dock as we row out of the Limassol harbor bound for England. The scene is quite astonishing actually. But then again we’ve got a lot of men on our six galleys – about one hundred and fifty on each and almost all of them sailors and fighting men.

  The death of Quick when Harold’s prize sunk and the five archers choosing to stay behind means only Thomas and I and ten others of the original one hundred and ninety two archers are sailing for England.

  Even so, we are leaving an additional twenty men at arms with Yoram and Henry to train as archers and help defend our fortress and work on strengthening it. We can do that because we’re taking the governor’s five knights and twenty of his best men at arms to England with us. A couple of them are clearly not very happy about leaving their families and the warmth of Cyprus but the Sir Phillip didn’t give them any choice in the matter. He isn’t taking any chances either – he just gave them their orders and locked the gate to his castle after they left.

  I gave him ten gold bezants for their services to help him save face and my priestly word of honor that I would do whatever it takes to make sure that the Tyre merchants do not send the Old Man’s assassins after him.

  @@@@@

  We make good time to Rhodes. When we arrive we find a small harbor with only a few ships in it and a big and seriously undermanned fortress which, we are given to understand by the local merchants, is ruled somewhat haphazardly by a governor from Constantinople.

  Because the nights are clear and moonlit we are able to stick together all the way to Rhodes. It helps that I deliberately scheduled our departure to start about six days before a full moon and ordered that at least two lanterns be on every mast.

  As a result of the moon and the lanterns, all six of our galleys enter the Rhodes’ harbor at the same time – causing, we come to find out, more than a little anxiety among the townspeople and merchants. They initially fear we are Tunisian raiders and some of them actually run to the fortress for shelter.

  And Rhodes must be being ruled haphazardly – no one ever comes to inquire who we are or collect any fees for using the dock.

  We don’t stay long. The weather looks good and the winds favorable - so we quickly replenish our water skins and barrels and depart a few hours later for Crete. And once again we lose a couple of men. They jump on to the dock and run for it. It’s a good thing William kept secret about his plans for raiding Algiers and Tunis.

  Two days later we row into Irakleio on the northern side of Crete. Thirty minutes later the clouds move in and we have the first rain we’ve seen since we left Cyprus. It isn’t a big storm and a few hours later the sun returns and the men are given shore leave to stretch their legs and visit the local markets and taverns.

  Crete is a seafaring place and we soon attract a steady stream of men seeking employment as sailors and pilots, and even a few men at arms. Harold speaks with them and recruits a number of fishermen who claim to know the waters between here and Malta. They’re willing to make their marks to pilot us to Malta on short term contracts.

  While Harold talks to the sailors and pilots I meet with the galley captains about their supply needs and twice go into the market with Thomas and my son to fill them. It’s a long way to Malta and we need to be as ready as possible.

  @@@@@

  We leave Crete the next morning and the full moon that evening doesn’t do us any good at all – it begins to rain and the galleys promptly get separated before it even gets dark.

  The result of the storm is inevitable - our galleys straggle into Malta’s harbor one at a time over the course of more than a day. When the galley I’m on with George and Thomas enters the harbor we find two of our galleys already tied up to the dock.

  Malta’s harbor is extremely busy and once again our entrance causes an initial alarm – and rightly so: Algerian and Tunisian war galleys are well known to the people and sailor men in this part of the world. But once again we row right in as if we own the place and peacefully tie up at the dock. No one tries to stop us. And I’m beginning to thin
k what I have in mind for Tunis and Algiers might really work.

  One of the missing galleys follows us in a couple of hours later. We’re all just starting to get a bit worried about the last one when it finally shows up the next afternoon - the Greek pilot we’d recruited in Crete hadn’t realized he’d steered too far north until he recognized the coastline of Sicily looming ahead of him. Hopefully he knows how to find Tunis; his is the galley on which I had planned to lead the raid. I may have to rethink that.

  We have an interesting experience while we are anxiously waiting for the missing galley to arrive – we meet Malta’s newly installed ruler, Count Brindisi. Strangely enough, we meet him when George gets hungry and we stop at one of the little city’s three taverns for something to eat. Count Brindisi is there, of all things, to consult a fortune teller. And he is anxious to hear the latest news from the Holy Land.

  The Count is a big red faced Greek who had been a rather famous Christian pirate. He had recently gotten himself nobled and given Malta as his fief because he and his ships helped the current Sicilian King’s seize the throne when the last of the Hauteville kings died without an heir. There are some lessons to be learned there.

  “Why didn’t you seize the throne for yourself?” Thomas inquires.

  Brindisi’s response is quite candid and delivered with a great roaring laugh as he bounces George on his knee.

  “I didn’t have enough men, English, or I certainly would have done.”

  Then the fortune teller whispers something to him and he gives William a surprised look.

  “You are going after a bigger Island, eh?”

  @@@@@

  Our galleys take on water and supplies and gather their crews from the taverns and the city’s sole whorehouse. Then all of the galleys except the one captained by Harold move away from the dock and anchor in the harbor. It is Wednesday afternoon. The men think we’ll be sailing for Lisbon in the morning. We’re not. If the weather holds good I’ll tell the men our next destination in the morning - and we’ll sail for Tunis immediately after they find out.

  Harold’s galley is the biggest of our six galleys. It’s the one I’ve been on with Thomas and George and it’s where they will stay until I return. It’s also where the galley captains and their sergeants assemble early Thursday morning – so I can explain where we are going next and what they and their men will be expected to do. I also show them three big signal flags of different colors and tell them what each means if the galley I’m on flies it.

  Our meeting lasts for hours and there are a lot of questions before I finally adjourn it and send the men back to their ships to get ready.

  “I knew it,” I hear Little Matthew say excitedly to Simon as the two archer sergeants wait for their sailors to come alongside and row them back to the galleys they are commanding. “I knew all that practicing meant something. I just didn’t know what.”

  @@@@@

  In a fast galley Tunis is little more than one day of hard rowing away from Malta and even less if the wind is favorable. Ours are fast and the wind looks good.

  After the meeting with my captains and their sergeants I give George a big kiss and hug, shake my brother’s hand as we pat each other on the back, and move to Archie’s galley with my signal flags. An Arab speaking former slave comes with me to act as a translator if I need one – which I almost certainly will if I can find a Tunisian fishing boat.

  I leave Thomas and George with somewhat of a skeleton crew. Thomas and Harold will have to recruit more rowers locally if we don’t return.

  Tunis and all the shoreline of Africa and Spain from here to beyond Gibraltar and all the way to Lisbon is ruled by the Almohad king and his heathen Berbers. The sailors call it the Berbur Coast or the Barbary Coast. Whatever it’s called, it’s a dangerous place for a Christian or Jew - because the Almohad king gets the coins he is spending in his efforts to conquer Spain from piracy and from the taking and selling of slaves. In other words, it would not do at all to have the Berbers learn we are coming to pay them a visit.

  That’s why our six galleys are now anchored close together in the harbor and our men are not allowed to set foot on shore to talk in the taverns.

  @@@@@

  Five galleys sail Thursday morning as Thomas, George, and Harold wave goodbye. I’m Archie’s galley. He’s a farmer from Sussex and one of the original archers. Alan is his pilot and the sergeant of his sailors.

  We stay close together all that day and the moonlit night that follows. The moon gives us our bearings and the African coast near Tunis is in sight when the sun comes up Friday morning.

  The first thing I do as the sun comes up is seek out a fishing boat to get the tide times for tomorrow at Tunis. The galley captains know I plan to do this if we come upon a fishing boat, and why. So they slow down but do not follow me when I peel off towards one of the fishing boats in the fishing fleet we come upon in the entrance to the Gulf of Tunis.

  The three men on the fishing boat we approach initially think we are a galley out of Tunis and scarcely pay any attention to us at all; at least not until we get within hailing distance and our translator begins asking them about the tides.

  A few minutes of friendly conversation between the fishermen and the translator turns to me with a smile.

  “High tide is this afternoon about the time prayers get out and then again tonight about eight hours after sundown. And would we like to buy some fresh fish?”

  We made a fast passage and we’re too early. So I order the rowers to stop and hoist the “form on me” flag. I want all of our galleys to row into Tunis together when the tide is high and still rising - so that the heathen galleys on the beach will be easier to pull into the water and taken away as prizes.

  @@@@@

  About two hours passes after I speak with the fishermen. Then an Arab dhow comes past us heading for the harbor entrance. It concerns me that the sailors on the dhow might raise the alarm - so I have the “follow me” flag waved and off we go.

  All five of our galleys row as fast as possible straight through the Tunis harbor entrance with Archie’s leading the way. We speed through the many ships at anchor in the harbor and right up to the pirate galleys. Some of them are at the dock and others are anchored in the harbor, but most are nosed into the beach next to the walled city and secured from drifting away by a line from their bow to a mooring post on the shore – exactly where and how we expected to find them. That’s where I head with our other galleys following close behind.

  There are a few men loitering about the pirate galleys and ships, but not many. It is Friday, the Muslim Sabbath, and most of their crewmen are apparently in the city for Friday prayers.

  The loitering men watch as we approach and back our oars as we coast up to the shoreline. They don’t even begin to run until our men pour off our galleys and begin to wade ashore carrying their shields and swords. Not a one of them stays to fight.

  That’s when our practice pays off. Swords cut through mooring lines and the designated prize crews scramble aboard as a mass of willing hands begins pushing the pirate galleys backwards into the water. It seems to be taking forever but within a few minutes we have prize crews on a dozen or more of the Tunisian galleys.

  There is no serious resistance. The Arabs who had been on the galleys for one reason or another and don’t run are instantly cut down as our prize crews swarm aboard. They are left wherever they fall in the rush to get the captured galleys underway.

  Almost immediately the oars of our prizes turn them around and begin to row them out of the harbor. It helps that the prize crews are organized under a chosen man and each has an Arab speaking translator giving orders to the galley slaves chained to their rowing benches.

  My galley does not go in to the beach with the others. Instead we temporarily take up a blocking position in case any of the pirate galleys in the harbor or beached along the shoreline are manned and decide to come out and fight.

  It is immediately obvious that we have caugh
t the Tunisians totally by surprise and totally unready to fight. So I order Archie to row for the dock as soon as I see the men of our prize crews begin to jump into the shallow water and head for the moored galleys.

  Our galleys, once the men of their prize crews jump off, quickly turn around and head towards the cogs and other cargo ships moored in the harbor. They are to either burn them or tow them away as prizes. And they are to keep at it and not to row out of the harbor and head for Malta until I fly the recall flag.

  Within minutes the galleys our prize crews seized on the beach are rowing for Malta at the best possible speeds their slave rowers and our prize crews can provide and our own galleys are hard at work burning and seizing the ships in the harbor.

  My galley, however, does not immediately join the others in seizing and burning the ships anchored in the harbor. Instead, we head straight for the dock and the ships that are tied up along it.

  All along our deck on the dock side are boarding parties grouped together under a chosen man - six of them. Each consists of nine or ten ax men, archers, and men at arms carrying bundles of dried twigs and lighted lanterns. On the other side of the deck are our best long bow archers. Once the boarding parties jump on to the dock the archers will move across to the dock side and line the rail to provide cover for them.

  And that’s what happens. As soon as my galley bumps up against the dock our six boarding parties pour over the galley railing and begin running along the dock to get to the ships tied all along it.

  Each boarding party going after the ships at the dock has two alternatives for each ship it boards. The first is to kill everyone they find while the chosen man lights it on fire. Then they are to cut its mooring lines, push it away from the dock so it cannot be re-boarded and the fire put out, and move on to the next ship – and keep doing that until the recall flag goes up on my galley.