by Griff Hosker
Wulfric’s axe swept a space next to us as Sir Richard killed the man at arms. We suddenly had space and men at arms joined Wulfric and Sir Richard. The line before us hesitated. I ran with my sword raised shouting, “King Henry!”
The men who faced me were taken by surprise for there were still many more of them. The first man I slew had no armour and my sword hacked through his ribs. He fell dead. I continued the swing and it went into the back of a second man. Wulfric’s blow took the head from a man at arms and Sir Richard ran one through too. There was a gap before the three of us and we ran towards the inferno that was the keep. Within the walls was now pandemonium. The inner gate to the keep opened and the men fleeing the fire in the keep raced at us. I was not certain if they were trying to get at us or merely flee the inferno.
I heard a shout from behind as the King and the Count of Blois led his men to support us. We had them now. The Count of Anjou had the southern gate watched and they had nowhere to go. We were no longer a continuous line but our attack had cowed those we faced. We were not helpless travellers; we were well armed and skilled warriors. My sword sang as it carved a passage before me. The ones whom the three of us faced ran. It was now a series of individual combats. We held the advantage for more of us had armour than those that we fought. However these were dangerous foes. They were like rats who were fleeing for their lives. They did not fight as knights and used a variety of weapons. I concentrated on keeping my shield tight and striking flesh.
“Let us find de Coucy and we can end this rebellion now!”
We ran through the inner gate and sought out the horses. I led the others beyond the keep towards the stables. Suddenly the door of the stables burst open and a huge knight with a great helm galloped out, followed by another eight riders all dressed in red surcoats. They all had a rampant black lion upon their shields and surcoats. It was de Coucy. The three of us braced ourselves for the attack but they swerved and headed for the south gate. “We have them. Anjou has the southern gate. Follow me!”
They galloped through the thick black smoke towards the gate. We could not see the gate for it was obscured by drifting smoke. We ran after the horsemen. I saw the gate ahead was open and I wondered why Geoffrey of Anjou had not joined in the attack. As we reached the gate I saw why. He had gone and the fleeing riders were heading east along with twenty or thirty men on foot. We had captured the castle but lost de Coucy!
Chapter 16
The three of us stood looking at the departing warriors. Sir Richard did not suffer fools gladly, “The arrogant young…. The King will not be happy about this.” He shook his head. ”And I have lost two good men at arms!”
I turned and looked to my men. All stood. I nodded to them. They raised their swords and shouted, “Earl Alfraed!” I saw that there was no more opposition. Men had thrown down their swords and were kneeling on the ground waiting to discover their fate.
The King strode up to us with his arms wide. “What heroes! You did all that I asked and more. De Coucy?”
Sir Richard pointed to the gaping gate, “They fled.” He knew the King well enough to speak plainly and not disguise the truth. “The Count deserted his post.”
The King frowned at Sir Richard’s choice of words but he said nothing. Tight lipped he led us back past the keep which was now a raging inferno, towards the gate. As we neared the gate he saw the Count of Anjou. He strode around the bodies of those that we had killed as though he had been there with us.
The King’s face was as black as thunder as he approached his son in law. “Why did you leave your post?”
The young man said sulkily, “There was no fighting. We came here to fight and not be guards on a gate!”
“Had you stayed at your post then you would have captured De Coucy. Then you could have fought!” Silence filled the castle. He turned to the assembled warriors who were looking eagerly at the armour and weapons of the dead. These had been bandits and stolen from the rich who passed through their lands. “All of the plunder from this castle shall be shared by Sir Richard and the Earl of Cleveland. They have shown us all how real knights fight.”
We both bowed and said, simultaneously, “Thank you, my liege.”
Theobald of Blois said, “And what of the prisoners? Do we execute them?”
The King smiled, “No, the Count of Anjou can escort them to your castle. We will put them to work building better defences.”
“I am to be a guard again?”
“Perhaps the journey to Blois and back will help you to reflect on your actions.” I thought he would refuse but the King lowered his voice and, closing with his son in law said, “When I die you and my daughter will rule England and Normandy. I would see that you are ready for such responsibilities.” He said it so quietly that only four of us heard it. The young man nodded. “We will wait here for your return.”
It took a whole day for the fire to die down. The King told Theobald to build a stone castle on the hill. “This will protect your lands from the east and it is rich hunting around here.”
The Count of Blois nodded, “Do we pursue Coucy?”
“We do. Thanks to Anjou we still have the leaders of this rebellion at large. He will flee to Roger of Puset and Eustace. The next time we will not have such slight losses.” He turned to me. “Had you had all of your knights, Cleveland then, I believe, we could have ended the war today. I wish that you had brought them.”
“I came not to fight a war my liege but to make a pilgrimage. I did not expect that I would have to fight and besides they are needed on the Tees.” I looked at the Count of Blois, “No offence, Count Blois, but this is not my home for which we fight.”
Theobald nodded. The King said, “But it is my home and you fight for me.”
“Always, your majesty.” I was suitably admonished.
The plunder was extensive. Coucy and his men had escaped but they had had to leave their ill gotten gains. While we waited for the Count of Anjou to return I had my men make a wagon for our share of the gold, armour, weapons and treasure. They would all be rich men. The men of de Coucy did not trust their fellows and all carried purses with gold and silver and their necks were adorned with gold and silver jewellery. The ones who wore armour had finely made pieces. Their swords were also well made.
Geoffrey of Anjou returned four days later. Theobald of Blois had sent out his scouts to discover the enemy while we waited. He had found them. They were at Thymerais. It had been a border castle captured by William the Conqueror before he had invaded England but the French had recaptured it. Since then Louis of France had lost his citadel. Now it was the last refuge of the rebels. Close to the border with the Kingdom of King Louis the Fat, the rebels would have to risk the wrath of that king if they fled. Puset and Coucy had been a thorn in the side of the King of France just as much as the Dukes of Normandy.
I sent my treasure back to Caen with two of my men at arms who had suffered slight wounds. I would not risk them. Sir Richard did the same. It meant he only had four men at arms to serve him. It was decided he would join the household knights of the King.
This time Geoffrey of Anjou demanded the van. I think he was keen to prove himself. I did not mind. If I could I would have returned to Caen with my treasure. I had hoped to see the Empress and that had not been meant to be. I had William ride next to me on the journey to the last stronghold of the King’s enemies. “Having been on campaign, my son, do you still wish to be a knight? You have seen men die.”
He nodded, seriously, “But I have seen glory too father. All the men spoke of how you, Wulfric and Sir Richard faced the enemy and made them flee. I was so proud. Even the men who follow other knights would serve you if they could. I would be like you when I grow up and become a knight.”
I smiled, sadly, “You see the outside, William. You do not see the turmoil within. Enjoy these days when you are free and life has not turned sour.”
We rode in silence as he ruminated on my words. “You mean mother and Hilda.”
“It was God’s will that they died. Father Peter told me that it was an honour for mother and Hilda to be taken for they were with God.”
I was on the horns of a dilemma. The priest had given my son comfort but I did not agree with the words. I looked at the innocent face of William and I nodded; it was a lie but I knew not what else to do. As we approached the castle at Thymerais I saw that our task would be a harder one this time. The Count of Anjou had placed his men before the gate but I could see that there was no way that a ram could break down the gate this time. The road which led to it had a twist right at the end. There was a bridge over a deep ditch and a barbican defending both ends. Unless there was a ditch at the rear then we would need a catapult. I was not certain if we had men with the skill to build such a machine let alone operate it.
Sir Richard, who had arrived with the King, was organising the camp. The King held a council of war as darkness fell. I was invited as was Sir Richard. Geoffrey of Anjou spoke. For the first time since I had met him he seemed deflated and flat. “There is but one gate. The town is also within the walls. They have six stone towers.” He pointed in the darkness. “The barbican has four small towers.”
The King said, “They will be well supplied then.” We all nodded for Puset and Coucy would not worry about the townspeople. They would let them starve. The warriors within would be well fed. “I had thought to besiege them but we would suffer more than they would.”
I could not help being positive, “There can, however, be no relief force coming this way.”
The Count of Blois said, “Unless King Louis decides to throw in his lot with them.”
That was as depressing a thought as I had heard. It made perfect sense. Sir Richard said, “Then we must make a catapult or a bolt thrower.”
“Have you experience of them, old friend?”
“I have seen them and I know how they work but…”
I remembered that Wulfric had spoken of some men at arms who had served abroad. “There must be men at arms who serve with us who have seen them.”
“You are right, Earl. That is our plan. We besiege them and try to make a machine of war and batter down their walls.”
“Can we not assault the gate?”
“We can, Count Geoffrey, but it would be costly in terms of men.”
“I saw what Cleveland and Redvers did. They lost but a couple of men. My men are not afraid.”
“I know and it may come to that but let us try the machine first.”
There were some of Theobald of Blois’ men who had served in the Holy Land and seen such devices. They set to building the machine. Reinforcements from Normandy reached us and the mood of the camp improved. They brought archers, arrows, bolts for the crossbows and more men at arms. If we could force the gate or the walls then we had a good chance of defeating those within.
It seemed to take an age to build the machines. The King insisted upon two in case one failed. Men at arms were sent to find large rocks which were brought to the site where we were building the two machines. They would be used to break down the walls. We did not have the luxury of round stones. It meant that the irregular stones would make it difficult to hit the same spot each time. It could not be helped. One advantage of a single gate meant that there was no way that they could easily escape as they had at de Coucy’s castle. Individuals could slip over the wall but they would be on foot. The King had mounted patrols riding around the walls and we caught four such escapees. They gave us an accurate number of the men within the castle before they were killed.
The King wisely had the two machines tested out of sight of the enemy walls. One broke immediately. The two men who had made it were embarrassed and fearful of punishment. The King, however, was remarkably patient. “Better to break now than when we attack.”
They set to repairing it with a will and soon made them both stronger. Two days later and they were tested once more. This time they both worked well. The army was arrayed before the gate. Normally terms would be offered but these rebels were cruel bandits and the time for words was passed. Geoffrey of Anjou was chosen to lead the attack on the bridge once the barbican and walls were destroyed. As we now had more archers and crossbows than hitherto, the King intended to batter those who tried to stay on the walls. He was a clever man. Inside the castle they would have to endure the noise of our assault and yet have no decent report of what was going on outside.
The archers and crossbows sheltered behind their wicker shields. Before we hauled up the mighty machines they cleared the walls so that the war machines could work without fear of attack. Sir Richard supervised the barrage of stones. The rate of release was not great. It took ten men to wind back the basket and then another four to load the stones. After our practice we had an estimate of the range but it was loose. It was why we had decided to attack the barbican. We had a greater margin of error. If we missed the barbican we might still hit the walls.
The first machine whooshed as it sent the first rock at the walls. There was a huge clatter and a cheer. Dust flew from the stone and the wall. There was an audible groan from our men who had thought that we would have had an instant effect. The gate and the walls looked barely touched. The second one missed the barbican but hit the wall. A large piece of masonry fell. That evoked a cheer. It seemed to take forever to reload the basket but soon they had a rhythm. It was hard to see that we were achieving anything.
Sir Richard said, “Be patient. One of my sharp eyed men has seen a crack appearing in the tower. The gate is nothing if the towers are destroyed. More stones flew towards the walls and the towers. Sometimes they hit the same place but that was rare. The right hand tower suddenly collapsed as the weight of stones took its toll. It was spectacular. I saw men who were sheltering in the barbican fall to their deaths in the stake filled ditch. One side of the gate still hung from its hinge but, as a barrier, it was now useless.
Our whole army cheered but Sir Richard said to me, “We only have ten more stones left. We will have to find more.”
By the end of the attack of the catapults one and half towers on the barbican had been destroyed and a small section of the wall had collapsed into the ditch. I felt quite hopeful. The first set of gates no longer functioned and the wall around the inner gate looked to have been damaged. I could see us being able to demolish the barbican by the next day and then Geoffrey could attempt an assault.
The last assault on the walls saw the barbican become indefensible. Those who survived the stones and the missiles withdrew to the town walls. We heard banging as they shored up the damaged gate. If we had had enough stones we could have breached the last gate before dark but we had to find more.
Dick, the archers and the crossbowmen moved within range of the gate. They sheltered behind huge shields while the catapults were moved closer to begin to rain their stones on the interior of the town. King Henry hoped to demoralise the defenders. The catapults only managed until late afternoon before they ran out of ammunition and one of them broke. The two siege engines were drawn back out of danger. The men who had built them would need to repair them. They were fragile things. They had served their purpose and Count Geoffrey formed his men up for the attack. They would have to march along the length of the wall before they could cross the bridge and attack the gate. The King insisted that he take the best six axe men from the army with him to batter down the gate. I do not think that the Count had thought of that.
The bows and the crossbows kept the heads of the defenders down but once they reached the gate then the arrow slits in the walls would be used and I had no doubt that they would use either oil or boiling water. The Count discounted my advice and he did not take dampened cloaks. We had the whole army ready to take advantage of any breach in the gate. Even though Dick and the others were hurting the defenders I saw two of the Angevin warriors fall into the ditch as they marched towards the last gate. They had to move slowly in order to keep a solid line of shields facing the enemy. They turne
d and formed up. The ruins of the barbican caused a problem none of us could have foreseen. The Count’s men could not keep a solid line as they clambered over the stones of the ruined defences. They could not keep a tight formation. I saw men at arms falling as arrows struck home. The young Count did the right thing once he reached the bridge; he ran towards the damaged gate. It minimised the time they had to endure the rain of spears, stones and bolts.
“Well that is the first part completed and we had fewer casualties than I could have expected. Count Blois, move your men to the foot of the ramp. You will assault next.”
The men of Blois formed up and marched towards the bottom of the slope which led to the walls. I heard a cry and looked to the gate. They were pouring boiling water down on the attackers. I could see why they did not use oil or pig fat. They could not risk it igniting. If the gate and the bridge caught fire then the siege would be over. Two men spun away from the gate and were felled by arrows. More boiling water was used and the Count ran. His men followed and, even before Theobald of Blois had reached the foot of the road the Angevin were fleeing back towards us. They had lost heavily. I saw the disappointment on the King’s face. I saw the scars in the wood which showed that the men with the axes had almost succeeded in breaking through the wooden gate but it had all been in vain. They would now spend the night repairing the gate and all of the Count’s men’s sacrifices would have been in vain.
“Call back Blois. There is little point wasting his men in an attack. We will try again in the morning. Sir Richard, see if you can get the catapults repaired. We will try to attack the gate with the stones the men can collect. It may have been weakened.”
The Count of Blois was relieved that he and his men did not have to assault the walls. The men who had suffered the boiling water bore terrible burns. Geoffrey of Anjou was angry. I could not tell if the anger was at his own failure or the humiliation of having to retreat. He went directly to his tent.
That evening there was an air of depression in the camp. Although we had not lost many men the effect of the failure made the numbers seem greater. “Theobald, you will lead the attack on the morrow.”