Lord of the Sea Castle

by Edward Ruadh Butler

The captain was a brave man and one of the greatest fighters on the March of Wales, but in that second he was a small boy again, frightened and unsure of what to do next.

  So he kissed her.

  ‘Get off me, Raymond,’ she appealed, pulling away from his lips and punching him on the shoulder.

  ‘I love you,’ he exclaimed.

  She took three steps downwards, away from Raymond with tears forming again in her eyes. ‘You are no different to my husband,’ she accused. ‘You would make me your whore?’

  ‘Never, my Lady,’ Raymond appealed. ‘I love you.’

  Basilia laughed and it was cold, reminding Raymond immediately of Sir Roger de Quincy’s caustic manner. ‘Is that why you have been shacked up with Alice of Abergavenny; because you love me, another man’s wife?’ She let the silence drag as she stared expectedly at him. He had no answer to her allegations. ‘You are no different to any man,’ she told him. ‘My only value, the only value that any woman possesses, is what land and prestige she can bring to your bed. I thought you valued me in a different way, that you sought my friendship and my judgement. I can see now that I was wrong.’

  ‘I wished to admit it sooner,’ he started, ‘and to tell you that I have loved you for longer than I can remember. And Alice…’ He bowed his head and let his arms fall to his sides. ‘I was lonely.’

  Basilia was not even listening any longer. She swiped tears from her face and raised herself up to her tallest extent. ‘I could never love one born so low as you, Raymond de Carew. You are but a poor warrior at my father’s hearth, not even a knight. You are not worthy to wash the mud from my palfrey’s hooves,’ she said loftily and angrily. ‘I am the daughter of the Earl of Pembroke and no son of a Welsh spearman will ever have claim upon me.’

  Raymond was shocked at Basilia’s anger, but he had pride and before he knew what he was saying, his own ire found the form of words and spilled from his mouth. ‘I will not forget myself again,’ he told her. ‘I want no measly earl’s girl for my wife. I will have no one other than a king’s daughter. You should remember that, Lady Basilia, for I mean to put your father on a throne and for accomplishing that great task I will demand land and then, as a lord in my own right, I will ask for your hand again. I hope at that time to be considered worthy of your love.’

  Basilia held his gaze for a moment, her brown eyes flickering between anger and agony. Then she turned on her heel and hurried down the stairs. Raymond did not follow. He was devastated, confused and embarrassed at his behaviour, fearful that he had ruined that which he had dreamed about for so long. He had lost Alice of Abergavenny to the Young King and now Basilia hated him because of his own stupidity and impatience. Raymond urged righteous anger to rise against Sir Roger de Quincy, but it would not intensify in his chest. Instead he slowly descended the stairs and made his way back towards the bailey where he promised that he would drink ale until he forgot everything that had occurred in the keep. The steps which took him from the top of the donjon to the gatehouse were a blur and Raymond had to shield his eyes from the strong sunlight as he exited into the bailey. It was because of the light that he did not see Milo de Cogan slink up behind him and grab his elbow, pulling him down the steps towards the marshalsea where several esquires cleaned their masters’ coursers.

  ‘What have you done?’ Milo asked across the back of one horse. He pretended to fiddle with the length of its stirrups as he spoke. He seemed genuinely concerned, a characteristic which Raymond had rarely seen his cousin display.

  ‘I did nothing,’ Raymond protested. ‘Basilia has found out about Alice...’

  ‘What?’ Milo interrupted. ‘The earl’s daughter? What on earth are you talking about? It is William de Braose that you need to be worried about.’

  ‘William de Braose is in Sussex,’ Raymond replied with a careless wave of his hand, ‘probably still shouting and squealing like a child who has had his favourite toy taken away.’

  Milo shook his head. ‘He is here in Wales. They say he has hired three hundred Gascon routiers and has sent them to Brecon and Abergavenny,’ Milo tugged down twice on the leather straps attached to his saddle to make sure they were secure. ‘I saw, with my own eyes, a ship stuffed with Danes make land at Nedd.’

  Raymond felt his body bristle with anxiety. Gascon mercenaries to the north? Danes to the west? What was William de Braose planning, he wondered. ‘Is he considering a raid on Strongbow’s lands?’

  Milo laughed long and sarcastically but did not look up from his tack. ‘Really, cousin, you are so naïve. It isn’t a raid that he is planning. Sir William is preparing to go to war.’ He flicked his eyes up to meet Raymond’s wide-eyed stare. ‘Did you truly believe your little escapade in Surrey would remain a secret? Tut-tut, Raymond.’

  ‘A war?’ He was aghast at his cousin’s news. He thought that his ambush had been executed without anyone recognising him. Obviously Sir William had realised that only Raymond or the Young King would have gone after Geoffrey and Alice of Abergavenny.

  ‘A war against Strongbow,’ Milo confirmed as he tucked the excess leather from his stirrup under the flap of his saddle. He and his war band were bound for Goodrich Castle now that Raymond had returned to take command of the conrois of Striguil. Behind Milo his rag-tag band of hobiler-archers collected in the bailey ready to depart for the north.

  ‘Was there a big man with a boar on his shield amongst the Danish crewmen? He had a braided red beard.’

  Milo shook his head. ‘I didn’t see anyone like that, but I did not dare to get that close.’

  ‘What were you doing as far west as Nedd?’ asked Raymond. ‘You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Roger de Quincy here in Striguil.’

  ‘A small pecuniary enterprise,’ the archer explained with an evil grin which he quickly shook from his face. ‘It turned out to be a waste of time and I was back before Sir Roger even knew that I had gone. It was lucky that I did go considering the important information I gathered for Strongbow.’

  ‘I cannot believe that Sir Richard de Grenville would support William de Braose,’ Raymond mumbled.

  ‘Not only him,’ Milo told him. ‘At least three other Lords of Glamorgan have agreed to help him. We could find ourselves in peril of invasion from two sides.’

  ‘What does Strongbow want to do?’

  ‘He dawdles as usual,’ Milo sniffed. ‘He knows he cannot afford a fight with Abergavenny, let alone one with the knights of Glamorgan. He cannot survive a war on two fronts, Raymond. I heard Sir Roger in there with him.’ He nodded his head towards the great hall. ‘That sot told him to sell you to Moorish slavers and then send Alice and Geoffrey back to William de Braose for a hefty ransom. He was blathering something about you having had an affair with Lady Basilia too...’

  ‘An affair? Is he out of his mind?’

  ‘Possibly, but I don’t think the earl will give it too much heed. The threat of war worries him more.’

  Raymond nodded. ‘We should send an envoy to the Earl of Gloucester in Cardiff and ask him to stop the knights of Glamorgan from crossing his lands to attack us from the west.’

  ‘Gloucester is the king’s cousin, Raymond. He will support Henry’s lapdog.’

  ‘King Henry and Gloucester are not friends,’ Raymond told his cousin. ‘A small bribe would buy his support.’ He thought of his tourney winnings and of how for less than a week he had been a rich man. ‘We should also send word to Humphrey de Bohun and Baderon of Monmouth.’

  ‘Bohun is Sir William’s cousin, and do you really think Baderon will have forgiven Strongbow for taking Goodrich from him? You’d have better luck with Seisyll ap Dyfnwal.’

  ‘Baderon is married to Strongbow’s aunt. He will surely help his family.’ Raymond was more hopeful than confident and Milo’s incredulity increased his pessimism. Why, he considered, would the lords of the March risk war to defend two bastards and an out of favour baron? Why would they risk the displeasure of King Henry when there was nothing in it for them?

/>   ‘I need to speak with Strongbow,’ Raymond said. Milo was obviously thinking the same thing, for he nodded fiercely.

  Before he could move another voice echoed around the noisy bailey: ‘Raymond le Gros, I should take you out and flay the skin from your bones.’ It was Sir Roger de Quincy who had spoken from the entrance to the stone fore-building. ‘Your perverse devotion to that whore of Abergavenny has brought war to Striguil and I demand to know why we shouldn’t throw you, the bitch and her pup brother to the wolves who threaten us and so sate their murderous desires?’ Behind Sir Roger, Strongbow loitered in the darkness of the fore-building.

  Before answering the charge levelled against him, Raymond glanced across to the thatched building where Alice and Geoffrey had been staying. Both the siblings were standing in the doorway of the hut watching Sir Roger’s very public declarations.

  ‘My Lord Strongbow,’ Raymond spoke directly to his master, ignoring the heir to Striguil, ‘I would not have you conduct a war for me, Lord Strongbow, for I can fight for myself, but I know that you would never consider abandoning two children to such a horrible fate unless you were being advised to such a strategy by the council of evil-hearted men.’ He cast a vicious glare at Sir Roger de Quincy.

  ‘You insolent Welsh bastard,’ Sir Roger replied before Strongbow’s hand fell on his son-in-law’s shoulder.

  ‘This is getting out of hand, Raymond,’ Strongbow said as he came into the daylight. ‘Sir William is only after the girl and her brother. If they attack, I will be forced to appeal to the king to step in, and you know that King Henry will be ... displeased with that. God knows I am not in his favour as it is. I must send them back to their cousin.’ Strongbow looked genuinely distraught at the judgement.

  ‘You are, of course, correct, Lord,’ Sir Roger continued, sending a victorious glimpse in Raymond’s direction. ‘You men,’ he signalled to two of his own warriors, ‘take those two bastards into your custody,’ he pointed an outstretched finger at Alice and Geoffrey.

  ‘Wait,’ Raymond shouted, forcing the warriors to look towards Sir Roger for direction, ‘there is another way, my Lord,’ he told Strongbow, ‘one that is to all our benefit.’

  Sir Roger laughed scornfully and ordered the men to carry out their orders. ‘Don’t be silly, my Lord. He will get us all killed.’ Behind them Alice screamed as she was grabbed around the wrist. Geoffrey scrambled away, but tripped over a gander which honked angrily as Sir Roger’s man took hold of the boy by his throat.

  ‘Wait, Lord,’ Raymond appealed again, ‘I can make you richer than you have ever been before and prevent a feud with Abergavenny at the same time. You have to trust me.’

  Strongbow looked from his son-in-law’s face to that of Raymond de Carew and held up his hand to prevent Sir Roger’s men from hauling Alice and Geoffrey into captivity.

  ‘This had better be good, Raymond.’

  Sir John de Stafford sighed as he listened to Strongbow’s tale. He nodded and spoke at the appropriate moments, but he didn’t believe a word of the convoluted tale which the Lord of Striguil spun. Despite being perfectly credible, one look at Strongbow’s angry son-in-law told King Henry’s messenger everything he needed to know about the accuracy of his story. Sullen, shifting his weight from foot to foot and unable to hold Stafford’s stern stare, it was clear that Sir Roger de Quincy knew what Strongbow was saying was false. The fact that Sir Roger seemed unable to keep his temper also revealed much to the astute warrior from the Scottish March.

  ‘I don’t need to hear about every detail of your visit to London, Sir Richard,’ Stafford interrupted Strongbow again, raising a rueful hand in the air. ‘The justiciar merely wants to know where I can find your man, Raymond de Carew, so that I can arrest him. He is accused of brigandry and I must take him to the Sheriff of Surrey for judgement.’

  The earl’s steward had invited Sir John into the main hall of Striguil Castle two hours before and had claimed that his master would join him soon. He had proceeded to liberally pour wine for him, but Sir John was on business too serious and, as ever, he was too wily to fall into the trap. He had stayed sober and sharp for he was on a mission to stop a war on the March of Wales. That required a clear head. Then, when he had become convinced that he would never be allowed to see the earl, he had been shown up the winding stairs to the solar where he had found the nervous lord of the castle.

  ‘Raymond, you say,’ Strongbow replied, fiddling with a strand of frayed wool at his cuff. ‘He is not here.’

  ‘He is not here,’ Sir John repeated and nodded his head. A man who was above suspicion would have asked about the charge levelled against his liegeman, of that he was sure. ‘I was reliably informed by the brothers at Llanthony Secunda that he and his conrois had been headed this way no more than twelve days ago. Do you deny that he made it this far?’

  Sir John sighed when Strongbow simply shrugged. He turned to study Roger de Quincy. The young knight could not hold Stafford’s gaze.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ he asked petulantly before turning his back to stare into the depths of the hearth.

  ‘Nothing at all, Sir Roger, you have told me more than enough,’ Sir John told him and turned back towards Strongbow. ‘So you are telling me that Raymond is not here in Striguil?’

  ‘He is not,’ the earl confirmed. ‘We argued in Westminster, Sir John, and parted with harsh words. He arrived in Striguil almost a week ago demanding money and release from my service.’

  ‘This you gave him?’

  ‘Grudgingly,’ Strongbow admitted. ‘He leaves me shorthanded, but I have my best men searching out more warriors to defend my lands.’

  The knight nodded. ‘I had heard rumours that you were looking for soldiers as I came west.’

  ‘In any event, no sooner had I released him than he insulted my daughter and my family.’

  ‘How?’

  For a moment, Strongbow looked offended by Stafford’s abrupt question. ‘He declared his love to my daughter and asked her to run away with him,’ Strongbow adjusted in his ornate chair. ‘Naturally she refused. On your honour I would ask that you keep that information to yourself.’ The Lord of Striguil waited until the knight nodded before continuing with his tale. ‘Raymond and his friends fled, but not before they assaulted Sir Roger. Two days later they stole a ship, Waverider, from my harbour at Suðbury.’

  ‘Why did you have a ship ready to sail?’ Stafford asked. ‘Where were you headed?’

  ‘My daughter and I were planning a visit Walsingham.’

  Stafford frowned. ‘That is a long journey, but common, I suppose, at this time of year. Do you have any idea where de Carew was headed?’

  Strongbow turned to Sir Roger and swapped a swift glance with him. ‘When he was here, Raymond claimed that he was headed to Ireland to join his uncle, Sir Robert FitzStephen.’

  ‘That twice-damned rebel,’ snarled Sir Roger de Quincy.

  John de Stafford ignored the younger man. ‘Raymond had no plans to launch an attack on Abergavenny or Brecon?’

  ‘None,’ Strongbow replied sternly. ‘What possible reason would Raymond have to attack Sir William de Braose?’

  Sir John ignored the question. ‘And you can swear that you have no aims in that direction?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Strongbow declared and half clambered out of his chair. ‘What man of my age wishes to spend what little remains of his life in the saddle on campaign?’ The earl sighed and lowered himself slowly back into his squeaking chair.

  Sir John scratched the end of his nose with his forefinger as he studied Strongbow, whom he guessed was only in his forties, though the man’s shabby garb and demeanour did make him seem much older. ‘What of William de Braose’s bastard cousins?’ the king’s messenger asked. ‘Raymond de Carew is accused of kidnapping them from his household. Sir William claims that Raymond was acting on your orders.’

  ‘I have heard nothing of them since Westminster when they left my care for the court of Young King Harry.�
�

  Sir John de Stafford shook his head, realising that he would probably never get to the bottom of what had happened. He had his ideas, but he had run into so many lies in Abergavenny, when he had interviewed William de Braose, as well as in Striguil, that it made the truth impossible to determine. Indictments had been met by counter-accusations while sworn oaths had been backed up by the offer of bribes and even, from Sir William, threats of violence. The justiciar had stated that the primary aim of his mission was to broker a peace between the vying Marcher lords. Sir William had been angry at that. Yet Sir John believed that he could still accomplish that goal. Strongbow, obviously a fading power, sensibly did not have the heart for war and William de Braose was a fool if he believed his father’s friendship with the king would grant him dispensation to ravage a neighbouring lord for the sake of misbegotten revenge.

  ‘I have your word that you will keep the peace on the March?’ Stafford asked Strongbow.

  ‘I will not lift a sword against any of the King’s subjects,’ the earl told him, ‘unless it is in defence.’

  ‘Then I will return to Abergavenny and persuade Sir William that his current conduct will not meet with King Henry’s favour,’ said Sir John as he climbed to his feet. ‘I thank you for your hospitality Sir Richard. I will inform the justiciar that Raymond de Carew has escaped our jurisdiction. If you should cross paths with him again you would do well to warn him that King Henry does not forget and rarely forgives.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir John,’ Strongbow replied. ‘I pray that you pass on my best regards to my neighbour in Abergavenny, and inform him of my continued friendship,’ he allowed himself a small, shallow smile, ‘despite this serious mistake on his behalf.’

  Sir John smiled at the defiance of the old man. ‘I will give him your greetings, Sir Richard.’

  ‘Thank you. Now, Sir John, I am afraid I must retire as I am suddenly feeling weary.’ The earl climbed to his feet and waited for the king’s agent to bow and make his way out of the solar. Sir John was tracked by Roger de Quincy as he retreated down the stone steps, but Strongbow’s heir did not speak as they joined the few remaining hearth knights in the great hall below.