The Road to Agincourt

by Griff Hosker

  I noticed his captain of the guard at the gate. I did not recognise him but I recognised the type. He had been one of those who had served in the Free Companies; he had been, like me, a mercenary. There were few left in France and Spain now and those who had survived came back to continue to ply their trade. This one had the tanned face of one who had served abroad and the white scar which ran down his face showed that he had fought hard. I might have spoken to him and asked whom he had served had not the look he gave me shown such derision. He had recognised me and, for some reason, had cause to either hate or, at the very least, dislike me. Perhaps I had fought against him while serving under King Richard or King Henry. I knew not and I dismissed him from my mind.

  A steward whisked us through the inner bailey to the Great Hall where Sir Nicholas Montgomery awaited us. I did not recognise him nor his livery and that told me that he had not been at Shrewsbury and that made me suspicious of him. He was not young but neither was he ancient as I might appear to be. I took him to be in his thirties. He had a well-made houppelande trimmed with Leicester lace. He was a rich lord who could afford such things. Unlike me who just wore a single ring with my seal upon it, the High Sherriff had fingers adorned with rings. I did not like that for it made me suspicious of someone who had to show his wealth and power on his hands!

  “My lord,” he bowed, “this is an unexpected honour. What brings you to my humble castle?”

  I had to play a part until I got to know the man and that meant I had to dissemble. “We are both Sherriff and I thought just to pay a visit. As you know, Northampton is a royal castle and I am the guardian of the King. I protect his road south.”

  His eyes narrowed and then he smiled. He gestured for us to go to the table close to the fire. It was a chilly day, “Come, we shall have some honeyed, mulled ale to take away the cold and we can speak.” He glanced at Harry, “And who is this young knight with you, Baron?”

  “Sir Henry of Flore, my son!”

  “Ah, the hero who captured the son of the Welsh rebel. It is an honour to meet such a warrior.”

  We sat and servants brought us ale. The Trent’s waters made for fine ale and the beer was good. I smiled at the Sherriff and said, “So, Sir Nicholas, where are your lands?”

  “My lands?” I saw a little fear in his eyes and yet my question was harmless and I had only meant it to fill the silence before I questioned him about the state of his county.

  “This office is temporary; where is your manor?”

  He waved a vague hand, “North of here, my lord and how is the King? We have heard rumours of dire ailments.” He smiled, “The common folk ascribe superstitious causes but you will know the truth being such a confidante.” The fact that he changed the subject so quickly also made me suspicious.

  I began to get the measure of this man, “He is a little unwell but we are lucky that his son, Prince Henry, the hero of Shrewsbury, is close at hand.” He nodded and his eyes were hooded so that I could not read them. “Tell me, Sir Nicholas, were you at Shrewsbury?”

  This time my sudden question had taken him by surprise and he almost started, “I am sorry that I was not. I had business in France else I would have fought.”

  I wondered on which side. “Tell me Sir Nicholas, does this land and the lands north of it stand for the King or the northern rebels, the Percy and Bardolf family?”

  He said, too quickly, “Why they are solidly behind the King, of course. What makes you ask?”

  “We have heard rumours of discontent and conspiracies of those who would use the Welsh war to further their own ends. The King and his son are aware of factions in the land who would oust him and yet do not have the courage to face him in open battle. I, for one, admired Hotspur, for he showed his colours and fought for them.”

  Sir Nicholas let his guard slip as he said, somewhat bitterly, “And yet you slew him.”

  “Aye, warrior to warrior. God gave me the strength and I had the right.”

  “And we thank God for that for you have given us a safe land and the people here are hardworking and are more than happy to heed my commands. This is a peaceful and loyal city. Will you dine with us or will you return south directly?”

  It was as clear a message as I could have been given. He wanted me gone and I had been right to come here. He was not an open rebel, yet, but in his year in office, he would do all that he could to undermine the King. A Sherriff had the power to do so. Taxes could be misplaced, supporters of the rebels given non-existent sentences, lands given to the enemies of the King. I would have to tell Prince Henry and his father all that I had discovered.

  “We will stay and return in the morning if there are rooms for us.”

  “Of course. My steward will take you and your son to your room.”

  Once in our room, I spoke quietly to the three of them. “Abelard and Edward, tonight you will serve at table. Play the innocent; say little and hear all. Feign stupidity if you must but learn all that there is to know about this castle. Sir Henry and I will also listen but I fear that we will learn little.”

  In the end, we did learn something. We learned that Sir Nicholas was not as popular as he led us to believe. There was a local lord who had been in the castle to ask for help with brigands and bandits. He had come with his wife and his daughter. He had not been accommodated in the castle but I think the Sherriff had to invite him to the feast for Sir Humphrey Calthorpe was related to the Phelip family and they were powerful although the knight came from a lowly manor and had little money.

  Sir Humphrey and his wife were seated close to me and his daughter, Elizabeth, was seated next to Harry. It meant I was able to talk to a local landowner and that would give me an insight into the way Sir Nicholas worked. It soon became obvious that he did not think the Sherriff was doing a good job. He spoke quietly, “Sir Nicholas thinks that because I have little influence at court and my manor is small that I can be ignored. I have written to my father’s uncle, Sir William Phelip, but he is busy with affairs of state. I have to hire men to guard my lands against those who would hunt my deer and steal my animals. The High Sherriff is supposed to protect landowners but all that he does is look after those of his own family as well as the incomers who have been given lands under dubious circumstances.”

  “I can have a word with him if you wish. I have no actual authority here but I am still the King’s champion and that must count for something.”

  His eyes lit up, “If you would, then I should be grateful.”

  “I do not promise but know that I am a friend and my manor is just a two-day ride down the Great North Road.”

  I was the senior noble at the feast and it was incumbent upon me to be the first to leave. I stood and said, “Thank you, Sir Nicholas, for a fine feast. I will leave early but I would have a conference with you before I go.”

  “Then I shall make myself available, Sir William.”

  Once in the room, we pooled our information. Abelard and Edward had garnered the jewel. Sir Nicholas was related to the Bardolf family and his journey to France had been on the rebel’s behalf. That alone might be enough to arrest Sir Nicholas. Harry’s news was less political and more personal. It seemed that he was smitten with the young Lady Elizabeth. I smiled for this was truly mysterious. He had shown no interest in any of the young ladies his mother and his elder brother had introduced to him at Weedon and Northampton and had I not come north then he would never have met Lady Elizabeth. I did not think, for one moment, that this would lead anywhere but at least he had shown enthusiasm for something that was not to do with his manor.

  The next morning Sir Nicholas was waiting for me with the four knights who had been closeted with him the night before. “Sir Nicholas, I spoke last night with Sir Humphrey of Stanton and he complained of bandits.”

  The High Sherriff frowned, “He is a trouble maker and uses his relatives in Suffolk to threaten me, however, I will send my men to scour the forests again. They have done so before and found no trace of the animals
he alleged were stolen!”

  “I thank you.”

  “And will you speak with the King soon?”

  I shrugged, “There is little that I have heard to confirm the rumours. I will speak with him but not yet. I have more places to visit. I bid you farewell.”

  We left for home and I had much to think on. I decided that I would ride to Windsor and speak with the Prince. I was disturbed and worried that a delay might help the enemies of the King and his son. I would also discover when we were to return to Wales.

  Chapter 9

  The King was abed when I reached Windsor. He had had some sort of fit and his face had worsened so much that he was heavily bandaged. It was the Prince who heard my words. Like me, he was concerned. “I know not this Sir Nicholas but Lord Bardolf is a proven traitor. I will speak with my father when he is a little better.”

  I could speak openly with the Prince, “You know the people think this illness is a sign from God?”

  “I do and we both know that this is nonsense but nothing we say will change their minds. I must take the place of my father as the figurehead.”

  “And when do we return to Wales?”

  “My gunners are hired and they are making the weapons. It may not be this season that we retake Harlech for I would rather wait and ensure success than rush and fail. I have instructed Sir Thomas Fitzalan to harry and harass the Welsh along the border while we prepare an army. Now that Sir Richard and Sir John are there, I feel happier but your news about Nottingham makes me worry that there may be other areas of disloyalty. Perhaps I should go to Nottingham and confront Sir Nicholas.”

  “I am not certain that is a good idea with your father ill, Prince Henry. Leave it for a month or so and I will try to visit other lords along the road to the north. Lincoln seems to me to be somewhere that the rebels might target. I will need to have some time at home first but I promise that I will visit Lincoln and assess the threat.”

  “Do not tarry too long for we must deal with these potential rebels harshly! The King has been too lenient.”

  I knew what he meant. The Earl of Northumberland had rebelled twice already. Had he been punished by death then it would have only been one rebellion and the north would be much safer. That there were spies in Windsor should have come as no surprise to us but the Prince and I had spoken in private and yet I received news, five days after I reached my home, that one of the King’s household had vanished and stolen a horse. The Prince of Wales suspected he was a rebel spy and that he feared we were getting too close to them. I knew that I had to leave for the north sooner rather than later.

  Despite the need for urgency I was not going to let slip my visits to my son and my daughter for I had grown accustomed to the pleasure of my grandchildren. When I arrived in their respective homes, they swamped me with demands to play with them and I loved it. I did not care that I often looked foolish, cavorting around on all fours with either William or Henry on my back. Their giggles and laughter made up for any embarrassment I might have felt. Harry had persuaded me to ride with Abelard to accompany me and I had agreed although I felt that he had little to enjoy for I was silent both going and returning and when I was in my children’s homes I was preoccupied. Abelard had grown and changed especially since we had taken on Edward for my son. He could do for Edward what Harry had done for him and my silence on the road back from my daughter’s home did not upset him.

  It was that silence, as we rode home on an evening when darkness had fallen earlier, thanks to heavy rain clouds, which gave us warning of the danger ahead. Wrapped in my cloak I was riding Hart and anticipating, with more than a little dread, my impending trip to Lincoln. We were warned, thankfully, by my clever horse who alerted us to the threat. We had left Kislingbury and headed down the tiny lane which wound between high hedgerows when her ears pricked and she snorted; a sure sign that there was trouble ahead. I was silent but I was not distracted. I knew danger was close. I hissed, “Danger!” and drew my sword. I had a sheepskin-lined scabbard and the sword slid out silently. Abelard had come on well of late and he also drew his sword. I knew I had my dagger in my left buskin and another in my belt but I knew not what the danger was. Neither of us wore mail. The silence helped for I could hear movement ahead. It had been years since I had been the young scout searching for food for the company but some habits are so ingrained that you do not even know that you are using those skills. There were men ahead and to the right. That, alone showed that they were not the best for if they were then no matter how good I was I would not have known where they were. A good assassin would come from our left where it was hard to protect ourselves.

  I edged Hart so that I gave some protection to Abelard and I whispered, “There are men to the right. I will speak nonsense but when I shout ‘now’ then ride like the devil for home. We have just two miles to go and we have good horses. It is dark and you can swash with your sword.”

  “Aye, lord.” His answer was equally quiet.

  I raised my voice and made it sound casual, “Well, Abelard, soon we shall be at home and I hope that cook has made her meat pie. I am in the mood for a pie and a... Now!” I spurred Hart who leapt forward as though she had been stung by a wasp. I had my sword behind me ready to sweep at any enemy who came close.

  The men waiting for us had been taken by surprise. They had been listening to our voices as we approached and gauging the moment when they would attack. They might have had weapons drawn but their horses were not ready to attack. The result was that I saw the first warrior as his horse lumbered reluctantly from between the hawthorn trees. The trees were not the best place to hide for they tore at the rider and horse as he emerged. He was a large man and wore mail but he only wore a coif. I swung at his head and my sword hacked through the coif and into his skull; it was a mortal blow and he tumbled from his horse. I heard shouts and, as the accents were northern, I guessed they were from Nottingham as I heard certain inflexions I had heard when visiting the Sherriff. Even as I fended off a hurriedly struck blow from the dark and our swords rang together, I was deducing who had sent these men to ambush me.

  “Abelard, ride to my shield side!”

  My squire’s horse was young and lively and he quickly placed her next to me. It meant we almost filled the narrow lane and he would be protected by my bulk. They would have to get through me to get to him. I heard horses behind me but I had no idea of numbers. They had done as I would have done and ahead, in the almost jet-black dark, their last sentinel burst from the hedges and rode towards me. All that I saw was a dark shape on a horse. We were to all intents and purposes trapped. The last sentinel would block us and the others catch us and butcher us.

  We had ridden this path so often that I knew it intimately and even in the dark was aware of what lay ahead. There was a field ahead belonging to Old Oswald of Fenton. It was an isolated piece of land for the rest of the land he farmed lay to the east of us but there was a gap in the hedge to allow him access and it was coming up soon.

  “Abelard, take Oswald’s field!”

  Abelard had grown up in this land and he had hunted with his father, Alan of the Woods. He did not reply but steered his horse towards the gap. Hart followed. It was a race between us and the last sentinel who hurried down the lane towards us. He could see the gap in the hedge and his voice shouted a warning to those behind, “They leave the road! They leave the road!”

  It was one thing to know what we were doing and quite another to be able to stop it happening. It did little to aid those following for they did not know which side we would be leaving the lane. I saw the shadow ahead rise up and knew that the last sentinel had his sword ready to swipe at Abelard. My squire had improved since the time he had watched and followed Harry. He lay flat along his horse’s head. A blow struck in the dark at a shadow was hard to aim at the best of times but when you are galloping then it is almost impossible. The sword missed and his horse, still racing down the lane, loomed up before me. I swung my sword as I jerked Hart to the le
ft and my sword struck mail. I heard a grunt which told me that I had hurt him and spurred my horse through the gap.

  “Abelard, ride for home. I will follow!” The field was open and we would soon be close to my manor.

  “Are you sure, lord?”

  “Certain! Be not silent as you ride and alert the manor.” I sheathed my sword and spoke to Hart, “Ride hard, my sweet. This is our land and we can outrun them!”

  This was ridge and furrow land. Old Oswald had recently ploughed it and it was not a smooth surface. Worse, for those following who were mailed, it had recently rained and the ground sucked at Hart’s hooves making her slip and slide a little. That was all part of my plan to escape. The men behind were mailed, with helmets, coifs and hauberks. I wore a houppelande and cloak and without armour so that I was at their mercy if they caught me but they had to catch me first and I had the advantage that I knew the ground over which we rode. Abelard was already heading towards the gap in the hedge which led to the open grazing closer to Weedon. Risking a glance behind I saw that they had spread into a line and I counted seven shadows. They were playing ducks and drakes and trying to cut off any escape I might make. Instead of following Abelard I jerked Hart to the left to ride towards the corner of the field. I was the one they wished to kill and not my squire. After two strides I looked back and saw that they had taken the bait. Five strides later I turned to head back towards the gap Abelard had taken. Four of those following would have to ride the wettest part of Oswald’s land. There was a patch of clay in that part of the field where the water never truly drained away. Although I had turned before it, at least three of the men following would have to struggle through the cloying clay which Oswald cursed each time he ploughed.