The Road to Agincourt

by Griff Hosker

  The first thing I noticed was that the King’s affliction which I had noticed after Shrewsbury had worsened and was now clearly obvious to all. His face was almost flaking away as he spoke. I wondered if it was leprosy and then dismissed the idea immediately for his doctors would have diagnosed it as such and he would be away from his son and family. Humphrey, John and Thomas, his other three sons, were there. That it bothered him was clear and he was most definitely distracted by it. I also noticed the clear relief when I arrived and that was from all of the King’s sons and King Henry himself. I wondered the reason.

  The King’s smile was guarded and I knew the reason now; his cracked face looked like a fine pot which was close to splintering. It led him to smile less and that made those that did not know him wary of him. It affected their judgement and opinion of him. Later, when men said that it was God’s curse I wondered if it was just that people thought him changed inside as well as out. For myself, I saw a King who now embraced the throne and was fighting to retain it. King Richard, when placed in the same position, had almost thrown it away.

  “Strongstaff, it is good to see you! We have need of both your mind and your strong right arm.” His voice was strong enough and that gave me hope.

  “I am ever your servant.”

  Prince Henry came and put his arm around me. It was not a royal gesture for the family seemed to fear physical contact with those who were not of royal blood. “And I am sorry for your loss, Will. Mary was a delightful child and know that I paid for prayers for her soul to be said at the convents and monasteries under my control.”

  I remembered then that there was but a year between Prince Hal, as she had called him, and my daughter. They had been close when he had lived with me. “That was kind of you. I believe that she is with God now.”

  Prince Henry was the only one who would have thought of such a gesture. He was not only a good warrior he was a good man and the two do not always go hand in hand.

  The King made the sign of the cross; it was something I noticed him doing increasingly often since his ailment had begun, and he said, “We need words and conference with you. I would have all of my sons present for this concerns the kingdom.”

  Harry and Abelard, as my squires, would wait upon us as would the Prince’s squires. We went to the Great Hall which looked remarkably empty for there was just a handful of us. I saw that the Archbishop of Canterbury, Sir Thomas’ uncle, was also there. He was not only the most powerful churchman in the land he was also the most powerful man outside of the royal family. That this was an important meeting became clear when I saw him. He nodded at me as I entered. We had not always been friends for he and his nephew had been forced into exile by King Richard and I was still seen, by some, as Richard’s man. As prayers were said, before we ate, I noticed that King Henry was more pious showing that his affliction bothered him.

  When our squires had fetched our first course and the wine they were dismissed and Prince Henry said, “I will shout for you when we require the next course. Stay without and make sure that none listens to our conference and debate.”

  I knew that my squires would obey for I would tell them all when we were alone. It was not that I was indiscreet but I trusted Harry and Abelard more than any in the room, save, perhaps, Prince Henry. It was the Archbishop who began. “Know you all that there are enemies in this land. Some are warriors, Glendower, Northumberland, Mortimer, but know, also, that there are others, in the church, who seek to bring down King Henry. The Archbishop of York, Richard Scrope, is one such. There is a belief that Richard, who was king, is still alive and that fosters rebellion.” He looked at me as though I was the one who had begun the rumour.

  I sighed and spread my hands as though I was tired of having to explain, “King Richard died and I was there when he passed.”

  The Archbishop nodded, “And that is why you are here for of all the men around this table, nay, in this land, you are the one man was known to be loyal to Richard and, as such, you are in a unique position. Men will believe you!”

  “I have told everyone the same words I have just said here.”

  He smiled, “And that proves your loyalty to King Henry, no, Sir William, you misunderstand me. I have heard rumours that they have one who looks and speaks like the former King. At the moment he is kept hidden in Scotland but if he is produced to discredit King Henry then you become the one man in the Kingdom who can scotch the lie!” He was a clever man and judged his words before he uttered them.

  “And I will do so.”

  The Archbishop continued, “However, there are also those in the south of the land who ferment rebellion and they are equally dangerous. London, as we all know, is a fickle place where the people will change their allegiance with the changing weather. We cannot trust the heart of England and worse, there are people who encourage the French. There is rumour of a noblewoman who seeks to fetch over the French to invade our land.”

  I nodded, but, in truth, none of this was a surprise. I knew of Scrope’s treachery and that there were English noblewomen who did not like King Henry was obvious for many had lost husbands and land.

  The King spoke, “We have forgiven Northumberland and he has returned north to his lands but I do not trust him. I wish you to ride to his lands and fetch back his grandchildren to Pontefract Castle where they will be held as hostages for his good behaviour.”

  I looked over at Prince Henry. I had thought I was to be at his side and, from his pained look, he had thought so too. “But what of the Prince’s campaign in Wales? Am I not needed there?”

  “The Earl of Arundel is there and besides, we need you for the reasons which the Archbishop gave. Neville is a trustworthy lord but the Percy family see him as a rival and a threat to their power. You, on the other hand, are seen as a noble knight who serves England and you are a protector of kings. The Percys, we believe, will accept you and my demands.”

  “But the Earl hated me before Shrewsbury and tried to have me assassinated. I killed his son!”

  “And that is another reason why you go, Sir William, for there is a code amongst these wild northerners. You killed Hotspur in single combat and that makes you a champion. That alone will ensure that they hear you out. You will tell Northumberland that his grandchildren will be treated well and he will believe you.”

  I looked the King in the eyes, “And they will be?”

  The Archbishop became angry, “How dare you impugn the King’s honour!”

  I shifted my gaze to the Archbishop, “I served King Richard and I know that sometimes promises are made which are never intended to be kept. This is not your word which is to be given, Archbishop, it is mine and before I give my word, I have to know that I will not be forsworn.”

  King Henry smiled, “And that is another reason for this choice for you are not afraid to beard a King.” He held his cross, “I swear by all that is holy and at the risk of my soul that no harm will come to the grandchildren of the earl!”

  “Then I am content. And when they are conveyed to Pontefract, what then?”

  Prince Henry said, “Then you join me at Worcester where, hopefully, we will defeat Glendower and take back my land!”

  I was unhappy with my role and it was not that I feared for my life but for that of Prince Henry. Warfare in Wales was the hardest I had ever known and made fighting in Spain and Portugal seem easy by comparison. His wounding by the arrow had been a warning, a sign that while I feared no knight I worried about the archers.

  The next morning, he took me with him while we rode through the Great Park. “I know that you are unhappy about this task my father has set for you but it is his way. As you know we have here, at Windsor, Edmund and Roger Mortimer as hostages. He fears that the crown will slip and he will lose the throne.”

  “May I be blunt, Prince Henry?”

  “I would be offended if you were not.”

  “You and the Earl of Arundel are both young and as we have seen both Mortimer and Glendower are wily old campaign
ers. As much as I would be with my family, I know that my place is by your side to guide you. You are a great warrior and a good general but I have the experience of many years behind me.”

  “Then I promise that I will be cautious until you return from the north. It should not take you above a month, Will.”

  “Aye, if the Earl agrees but if he proves awkward then what can I do?”

  Prince Henry smiled, “This is where my experience comes in, Will. If he refuses then, quite simply, you return to Pontefract and tell my father. He will take an army and reduce Percy’s home. It is not the solution we wish for the King wishes to keep as many men available to repel a French invasion.”

  “I know there are rumours but is it likely?”

  “They tried earlier this month at Dartmouth. Two thousand Frenchmen tried to invade but they were defeated at Blackpool Sands by the local militia and knights. It was not a well-organised invasion but it shows that they are keen to bring the war to us. My father has sanctioned Sir William Wilford to attack shipping in the Channel as a reprisal and John Hawley and his privateers will continue to harass the French. The war with France will escalate and we could do without this Welsh rebellion.” He saw that I was still unconvinced, “Fear not, Will, I know I am not yet ready but someone has to face the Welsh and it is my land. If I cannot defend Wales then I do not deserve to be a future King of England.”

  I left in the afternoon. It was neither rudeness nor a fit of pique but I needed to get to Northumberland and return to join Prince Henry as quickly as I could. Prince Henry needed me and his words had told me so. The King and his son, Prince John of Bedford, would await my return at Pontefract. The King had decided to give Prince John the north to manage. Although his son was little more than a youth, Ralph Neville would be available to guide and to offer support to him. Humphrey was being sent to Ireland for the same purpose. King Henry would rule the land through his sons.

  As we rode north Harry showed that the death of his sister had made him become more thoughtful and more astute. As a squire who served at the table and being slightly older than the two princes, he had been able to talk to the other squires and hear what others thought of the three brothers who would support Prince Henry when he became king.

  “I have seen that the King has great faith in his sons but two of them are little more than boys. It has made me realise that I could be a knight for I have fought more times than they have but I will wait until Abelard is a year older.”

  Abelard said, “I am ready now, Harry!”

  Harry laughed, “You are keen enough and there are many tasks that you can do but your reading and your writing need improvement. If they improve then…”

  “I will make it so.” The determination in his voice made me believe that he would deliver on his promise.

  The roads were hard to travel due to the number of people who used them and the weather. The result was that we did not make it home in one day and we had to spend the night in an inn just fifteen miles from our home. By leaving early we were home by midmorning. I would be able to leave for the north once I had seen all of my men and chosen the ones who would ride north with me.

  Mary’s death had affected my wife more than I might have expected for I had always thought that Eleanor was stronger than I was. She was a strong character and her personality filled every room in our home. Mary had been the last of our children living in the house and Mary’s death appeared to make my wife become maudlin and melancholic. When we returned to my home, even though we had been away but days, I saw changes. The clothes she wore were plainer, almost nun-like. When she spoke, she was quieter and more reflective. It was, however, the servants and their worried expressions which concerned me the most. As she took my cloak, Agnes, who commanded the house servants, said in my ear, “My lady spends most of the day in prayers, lord, and the rest in the churchyard tending to Lady Mary’s grave.”

  “Just so?”

  “Aye, lord, and she is not the same lady that she was. It began before you left but you and Master Harry were so concerned with your visit to the King that you did not notice,” I gave her a sharp look and then realised that she was right. “The other servants and I fear that she is heading towards an abyss and unless she is rescued then we will lose her forever. It is good that you are at home.” I heard the plea in her voice but it was in vain. As ever my family would take second place to the demands of the King.

  I shook my head, “I leave on the morrow on the King’s business.”

  Agnes’ head drooped, “Then the lady is lost.”

  “No, she is not!” I knew that the problem had a solution and I had to find it. Had this been on the field of battle then the solution would have presented itself soon enough but the world of women was unknown to me. I had grown up without the benefit of a woman’s soft touch and was more used to the harsh reality of a world of warriors. I sought Harry who returned from the stables. “Harry, your mother is in low spirits and her thoughts dwell upon Mary. Go to her and make her laugh, amuse her, do anything that you can.”

  He looked concerned but he nodded and said, “I will try though the house feels empty without Mary’s laughter. Where will you be?”

  “The King’s command has come at the wrong time but I must prepare to obey it. However, I also have a wife I need to save and I will try to do both at the same time.”

  The village of Weedon and my manor were now almost entirely filled with those who served me and their families. They were people that I knew well. The original village had been small and the deaths of older people who had no children or whose children had drifted away to London meant they had been replaced by those of my men who wished to have families. The largest house, outside of my own, belonged to Harold Four Fingers and his wife, Magda. They lived close to the manor house for Harold commanded the men I left to guard my home. Magda had been rescued from Lithuania and her son, Pyotr, or Peter as he now called himself, was the squire of the first knight I had trained, Sir Henry of Stratford. Magda had endured far worse than my wife and she had survived. I would kill two birds with one stone and while Harold summoned my two captains, Edgar and Alan, I would seek advice from Magda.

  Harold was tending his small garden as I approached. He was one of my longest-serving warriors and his days of going to war were long passed. He would be able to defend my land and would do so as fiercely as any warrior but his grey hair and the rounding of his belly told me that he was not hungry for battle any longer.

  He looked up as I approached, “Lord, this is a most unexpected visit.”

  “Aye, Harold, and I am sorry to take you away from your garden but I have something needs tending to.”

  He laughed, “Once I hewed the heads of my enemies and now it is tares and weeds who fear my wrath and I battle constantly with slugs! They will wait. What is it that you wish, my lord?”

  “The King has tasked me with a journey north. Fetch my captains so that the three of us may choose the men that I will take with me. I will await your pleasure here for I have need of words with your wife.”

  My village and home were small added to which Harold and Magda lived less than two hundred paces from my home. He nodded, “Lady Eleanor?”

  “Aye.”

  “Magda is within. I will not be long.”

  I gave him a meaningful look, “Do not rush.”

  I knocked on the door for although I was lord of the manor, I respected the privacy of all who lived on my land. Their homes were theirs. Magda had floury hands as she had been making bread and my appearance flustered her, “My lord, I am sorry I...”

  Although she had lived for many years in England her voice still had the Baltic accent. I smiled, “It is I who should apologise for disturbing you but you should know that my visit is important. I will follow you to your kitchen, I will not stop your work for making bread is vital for a family.”

  I could see that she was torn for the kitchen was not the place to speak with the lord of the manor but she was a practical
woman and nodding, she led me through the low-ceilinged house to the kitchen. Unlike my wife, Magda had no servants and we were alone. She looked at the dough which she had begun to work and I said, “I will sit and talk while you work. The dough needs kneading.”

  She smiled, “It is a living thing, lord, and does not like to be neglected.” She began to stretch and pummel the dough and I remained silent.

  I watched her powerful and gnarled hands as she turned the roughened dough into a smooth and pliant ball. “I need to speak with you about Lady Eleanor.”

  She paused briefly and, looking at me, nodded, “Aye, she is a troubled soul.” She had learned her English from Harold and it showed in her words and phrases. She lifted her hand to give the bread a mighty smack and then rolled it into a ball. “Sometimes, lord, the dough needs to be treated roughly.” She then began to softly smooth the shiny dough into a round, “and sometimes gentleness is needed. Your wife is right to mourn your daughter for she was like a ray of sunshine on a spring morning but there is a time to put aside the past and look to the future.” She returned the dough to the wicker basket and covered it with the piece of dampened linen she had left to the side. As I spoke, she went to the jug of water to cleanse her hands of flour.

  “You are right, Mistress Magda and, given time, I would be able to coax her back from the edge of despair, but King Henry has set me a task and I will be away for some short time and, even when I return, it will be but a brief visit for I go to war again.”

  She poured a beaker of beer and handed it to me. I knew that some of the yeast from the beer she had made would be in the bread and already the smell of proving dough in the firelit, cosy kitchen was making me hungry.

  “And your wife is alone with her women. Agnes and the others are good folk but they are servants. Thanks to you my husband is a freeman whom you pay and I am a free woman. I am no lady but I am a mother. Would you have me speak with her?”