Poisonous Plots (Anarchy Book 17)

by Griff Hosker

  As I walked the castle with the King and Richard D’Avranches the King teased me. “Of course, Earl Marshal, had you not burned down the gate and half of the south wall we might have met the Bretons from behind walls. I fear we will have to fight them now in the open.”

  I smiled, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “I am joking for you saved us many men and I believe that the Bretons who joined us will swell our force so that we are more than a match for the Bretons. Sir Richard take the Earl’s archers and his captain of archers. They have a good eye for a battlefield. Find somewhere to the south of us where we can meet the Bretons. Dick will know the place when you find it.” Sir Richard nodded and left us. I felt sorry for him. It was already gone noon. It would be dark before he returned.

  We found a part of the walkway which was undamaged and stood there to survey the land. He pointed to Mont St. Michel in the distance, “The Abbot there has accepted my offer. Mont St. Michel will no longer provide the Count of Rennes with an income. With Pontorson in our hands we have the upper hand.”

  “And after Rennes?”

  He lowered his voice, “After Rennes I visit Conan. I have been speaking with the Breton lords who have sworn fealty. They became rebellious for they needed a leader with a firm hand. His father had such a hand but this Conan is no warrior. He is a man who likes his pleasures. He wants the rights and rewards without the responsibility. I will have him abdicate in favour of Constance.”

  “But, your majesty, that will be even more dangerous. She is a child.”

  He smiled, “You forget, Warlord, that I plan to betroth her to my son, Geoffrey. It will be me that they answer to. I do not intend to return to England for some time. There are plots aplenty here. I need to make Normandy, Anjou, Maine and Touraine secure. When the Breton menace is ended then I will turn my attention to France and Blois.”

  My heart sank. It seemed that it would be some time until I could return to England.

  The King had learned to read people. The skill had developed over time. “You wish to return to England?”

  I could not lie. I nodded. “My son’s family is growing up and I am missing them.”

  “Then stay until Brittany is secure. Come with me to Blois and then you can return to England.” He paused, “Until, of course, I have need of you again.”

  That was as good an answer as I was likely to get. As Maud was in Rouen I would be able to see her before I left for England. “There is one thing, Your Majesty, the Templars.”

  He frowned, “Templars?”

  “A Templar, Bertran of Clairvaux was in Normandy. He tried to suborn Robert Mortimer to betray you. Your knight sent him hence. Robert thought that he was in the pay of the French King.”

  “When was this and why did Robert not think to mention it to me?”

  “It was some time ago and the knight left. He headed south. There may be others who were less loyal. The trouble is we will never know.” I waved a hand around, “It could explain the unrest in this land. If King Louis wished to cause trouble for you what better way than paying Breton knights to rebel. “We have brought our men here to deal with the problem. Who knows what is happening closer to the Vexin? We know that King Louis still wishes that land returned to him.”

  “You are right. Then when we bring the Count of Rennes to account I will question him about this knight. We will keep this information to ourselves. Until we can discover more then we know not whom we can trust.” We headed towards the stairs leading down to the bailey. “One thing more, speak with Robert Mortimer. Discover all that you can about this Bertran of Clairvaux. He must have visited other knights before he arrived at his castle. I am disappointed that I was not told sooner. If he can provide more information then my opinion of this knight may be improved.” Henry was becoming more ruthless. It was a journey which would continue right up to the end of his life when he fought with his sons and his wife.

  I sought out Robert. He was celebrating with his knights. We had had a famous victory and he had gained much honour, “My lord! What a day!”

  “Come, I need to speak with you.”

  He recognised my tone and said, “Of course, lord.”

  We walked through the wrecked gatehouse. Two men at arms and six of the fyrd guarded it. They all knuckled their foreheads as we passed. The fyrd were camped with the baggage and the horses close to where we had camped. I led him to the river. There was no one there to overhear us.

  “My lord you have me worried. Have I done something wrong?”

  I shook my head, “Not as such but the King is displeased that you did not speak to him of this Bertran of Clairvaux.”

  “But lord that was a year ago and I had forgotten it. Until you mentioned French plots it remained hidden in the recesses of my mind.”

  “I understand that but I need to know all that you do.” He nodded, eager to please. “Was he alone?”

  “No, lord. There were four sergeants with him.”

  “How did he approach you and broach the treachery?”

  “He did not do so directly.” He frowned, “Come to think of it his offer was vague. He just said that my manor was in a valuable position. He said that if war came to the Vexin then it would be a vital route into Normandy and to France. He suggested that I might be given treasure if I was to help his sponsors. I asked him if he meant the Templars. He shrugged and said that the Templars had friends who had great power. When I said that I was uninterested he left.”

  I was relieved. Had the French King been named then it would have gone ill for Robert. “Now answer me this, whence did these Templars come and whither did they go?”

  “I know not where they went save that it was south west and they came from Vernon.”

  “The castle of Sir Richard de Vernon?”

  “The one and the same.”

  “He is not here.”

  “I believe he feared the French would take advantage of the absence of so many lords and he remained there to protect the crossing of the Seine.”

  I had a sudden chill. This plot was even more sinister than I thought. For once I prayed for an attack. When the Bretons attacked we would defeat them and then return to the Vexin. Sir Richard de Vernon was a threat and the King had to know.

  Annoyingly I could not get the King alone. His lieutenants and the other knights were busy in conference with him. Then Sir Richard D’Avranches and Dick returned with the good news that they had found the perfect ambush site. We were closeted in a council of war and I did not manage to get him alone. It was fortunate that, the next morning, he was up early to muster the men. When they were all roused and the baggage loaded I took him to one side.

  “I pray, Warlord, that this is worth dragging me away from an important offensive!”

  “It is Your Majesty.”

  I told him what I had learned. He scowled, “DeVernon! I wondered why he had declined to join us.” For the first time in a long time he looked worried. “I have been duped. The French King has drawn me west and he will attack in the east.”

  I forced a smile, “Majesty. There is still time. We have had more success than anyone could have anticipated. The French King and his traitorous allies will be waiting for you to be defeated and to lose men. You have your brother. Send a rider to Rouen. Have William take a large conroi to Chateau Galliard. That is the key to the Vexin. It is a powerful castle.”

  “My brother? Suppose he says no?”

  “Your mother is there. She will persuade him.” I hesitated. “Sometimes, Your Majesty, a king must swallow his pride. If you are to save your Duchy then your brother is your only hope.”

  He nodded. “As ever your advice is sage. I will write a letter immediately.”

  I felt relieved and threw myself into the preparations for the battle which we knew would come. The Count had few choices. If he stayed in his castle then his support would wane. We already had his best land and had deprived him of his income from Mont St. Michel. He would either sue for p
eace or fight. He chose to fight and scouts reported, two days later, his army marching north. Dick had found a place which was perfect for ambush. Half a mile from Sacey the road passed close to a narrow stream. It could be easily forded but the banks were steep and an enemy who tried to use it would be slowed. Even more important was the fact that the ground fell away from the high point of the road. We formed three lines. Knights were in the fore then two ranks of men at arms and squires. The fyrd guarded the baggage and, more importantly, protected the rear. Dick was given command of our archers and the forty crossbowmen we had. None of the archers were happy about the crossbows but Dick knew that we did not have enough archers. They would guard the right flank which was close to the stream. When the Bretons tried to cross they would become victims to an onslaught of arrows and bolts. Holding the enemy, they would allow us to charge the centre of the enemy line.

  The scouts spotted them two days after we set up the ambush. The delay had allowed us to build traps and dig pits to the north of our line making that flank more secure. We also had the advantage that we were rested and the Bretons had had a march from Rennes. They were overconfident for they did not bother with scouts. Perhaps they thought they knew the land better than we did. We waited. Sir Richard D’Avranches had good scouts and we knew, to a man, how many were advancing. He had one hundred knights and eighty men at arms. There were forty crossbows and over a thousand fyrd. That was the Compte’s weakness. Our fyrd guarded baggage. The Bretons were attempting to use his levy as a strike force. It was a mistake.

  Much to the chagrin of my men at arms I was in the front rank between Sir Richard D’Avranches and the King. I knew I had to be there. It was a place of honour. They would not be able to protect me. James was behind me with my standard. Padraig was with the other squires and those men at arms without mail in the third rank. Roger of Bath had jostled and bullied my men to flank James. Once the battle lines broke down into individual combats then I knew that men at arms would surround both me and James. We waited.

  There was a slight slope which favoured us a little but there was little in the terrain to give either side an advantage. It would come down to skill. As I looked down the line of knights I saw experience. King Henry had brought hungry knights. He had brought knights who wished manors in Brittany. These were not rich barons with large estates. The only knight who might fit that description was Sir Richard D’Avranches. Even Sir Robert Mortimer, who had a fine castle close by the Seine had but twenty retainers. The rebels we fought did not yet know the price they would pay for defeat but King Henry’s young bloods knew the rewards that they would reap.

  The Count de Rennes arrayed his battle before us. He formed three battles. On his left, towards the river were the fyrd. They were led by a knight and ten men at arms. The centre was his main strike force. He led, himself, the one hundred knights. On his right flank were his men at arms. Half were dismounted. The forty who were mounted would lead. The One hundred knights were in a two-deep line. Their whole line would overlap ours. We would be outflanked.

  King Henry was still confident. He turned to Sir Richard and to me. “We go for the Count. Cut the head from the snake and the beast will die. He smiled at me. “I am glad that Dick holds the right flank. That side will not fall.” He donned his helmet as we all did. King Henry was using a knight to carry his standard. Sir John de Warenne was a cousin of William’s love, Isabel. He was recently knighted and eager for the honour of carrying the standard. I knew that King Henry had also picked him to try to build bridges with his brother. I hoped that William would respond well to the letter the King had sent.

  Trumpets sounded and standards waved. The Bretons were on the move. The fyrd and the men at arms advanced. They intended to flank us. The men at arms rode hard. They would, eventually be slowed.

  “Sir Robert Mortimer, take your knights. Attack those who survive the traps.” Although he only led ten knights Sir Robert would have the advantage of attacking men who had been hurt by pits, stakes, traps and ropes.

  To the right the knight leading the fyrd was struggling to control his men. They saw an apparently open space. If they could reach it then they could attack our unguarded right flank. They did not know the reception which Dick would give them. The forty bolts from the crossbows would not be fast but they would be steady. The eleven war bows would be fast. Dick and his men could nock and release so quickly that they could send five arrows in the time it took a man to run a hundred paces. The fyrd wore neither helmet nor mail. They carried no shields. Each arrow would stop a man.

  Sir Robert detached his men, and men at arms moved forward to take their place. The squires and other men at arms shifted left. The Breton men at arms discovered the pits and the traps. Horses fell throwing their riders from their backs. Others baulked and their riders fell or tried to urge their horses on. Screams and cries bespoke men at arms who were skewered by stakes. The men at arms on foot would not have such a difficult time for they were approaching more slowly but they had to negotiate the dead and the dying whilst looking for more traps. Had we had more archers then they would have all died. Sir Robert and his knights echeloned themselves ready to attack any who survived. They had lances and when the men at arms on foot emerged they would have to bear the brunt of an attack by mailed knights.

  On the right the fyrd were now an unruly mob closing with the hidden archers and crossbows. Dick had the crossbows before him. They were kneeling and would release from that position. It was more effective. He and his archers would stand behind. When the fyrd were three hundred paces from them he rose and I heard his cry of, “Release!” The forty bolts slammed into the men at the front of the fyrd. There were a thousand of them and forty deaths were as a drop in the ocean. The eleven behind who fell to arrows were also not a large number but when another eleven and another fell before they had advanced forty paces then a hole appeared in the middle. Dick used his experience. He left the crossbows to continue to weaken the centre while he split his archers into two to thin the ranks on the flanks of the fyrd. The mob was less eager to move forward. I saw the knight leading them urge them on. His squire waved his banner. Two arrows flew and the knight and squire fell. Ten bolts struck the men at arms and the mob was leaderless.

  A horn sounded from the Breton centre. The Count could not see the devastation caused by our defence and he was following his plan. His line moved forward. King Henry shouted, “Forward, for Normandy and for England!”

  I spurred the war horse forward. I had been told that his name was Michael. It was a popular name in Normandy and Brittany. He was a good horse but I did not know him well. Had he been one of my own horses I would have been more confident about riding with just my knees to guide him. I kept hold of his reins. I would be restricted in my use of my shield. I did not have a lance. I preferred a spear. Although slightly shorter it was easier to control. The problem was that the shaft could slide through your hands. I rested it on my cantle as we galloped towards the Bretons.

  Our line was not galloping. King Henry was keeping a tight line. I could feel his foot next to mine. The Bretons were not as disciplined. I saw gaps. Our knights were all experienced and kept their lances resting. Many of the Bretons couched them ready to strike. A lance is a heavy weapon. They were weakening their attack. Even though we were not travelling as fast as we could have done the combined speed meant that there would soon be an impact. I saw that the Count was in the second rank. King Henry was aiming for the knight who rode before the Breton leader. He had a yellow and green striped shield and surcoat. He wore a full-face helmet and he too rested his lance on his cantle.

  King Henry’s choice of opponent dictated mine. The knight I would fight had a red and white checkerboard design and he too had a resting lance. As we closed I saw the Bretons raise their lances to the couched position. Most of our knights did the same. I was one of the exceptions. I held the spear overhand. I intended to strike down. The knight with the red and white checked shield was expecting a thrust at
his shield. It was braced against his shoulder. As we closed I saw him pull back his arm to punch his lance at me. He managed to maintain good control over the tip. It did not waver over much. I had to trust to my instincts. I had been fighting this way for more than forty years. I concentrated on the strike I would make. Even as he punched I stood in my saddle. I saw his head rise as he followed the movement. His lance struck my shield which was braced against my left leg. It slid along the side and tore through the caparison of my horse. I stabbed down with the spear. It struck him in the left shoulder. I felt the head scrape off bone and then the shaft shattered. As he fell from his horse I threw the remains of the shaft ahead and drew my sword.

  All down the line there was a series of cracks which sounded like hail on a roof. It was interspersed with cries and with screams. Horses, which were wounded, whinnied. There was the sound of mailed bodies crashing to the ground and hooves clattering over mailed bodies. Both lines were slowed to a stop. The mailed lines were so tightly packed that there was no way through. Those in the second ranks who had lances were now at a disadvantage. Our knights who had survived the first clash now drew swords.

  I whipped Michael’s head to the left. The Breton who guarded the Breton standard bearer tried to do the same. His lance came around very slowly. Once again, I stood in my stirrups and as the side of his lance hit my shield I brought my sword in a backhand sweep to hit his right shoulder. His turn and the power of my blow knocked him from his saddle. I urged Michael on. King Henry was now fighting with the Count.

  The knight with the standard had the banner in his shield hand. He had to keep the standard aloft. If it fell then it would signal defeat. I headed for him. Other knights saw the danger and tried to get to me. Sir Richard D’Avranches and his knights spurred their horses to intercept them.