by Griff Hosker
Sir John might have been old enough to be the Prince’s grandfather but he sweated as he recounted what he had already told me. The fact that not a word was changed told me that he had spoken the truth. I saw Prince Thomas nod once or twice and that seemed to confirm that the Earl of Arundel had been truthful.
When all was done Prince Henry nodded, “This is all my fault, or, perhaps the fault of the council, either way, I should never have left the siege before the end.” He looked at me and gave me a wry smile. His scarred face made most of his smiles look strange. “And I hope the wedding went well for it has cost us dear.” I was angry for it sounded to me like I was being blamed but the Prince must have sensed my anger for he then shook his head, “That was unfair of me. I sent you home because I thought that the Earl could complete what seemed to me a simple task. I was wrong. The Earl is a loyal knight but warfare is not his forte. He is now in London where he can organise the council and perhaps be Chancellor. That I know he can do and it means that I can stay here in Wales and end the rebellion once and for all.”
We spent many hours with the two princes. It was from that time that Prince Thomas became his brother’s aide, at least until they had a falling out but that was in the future. He was a loyal brother but a shadow of Prince Henry. I liked him for he would do anything for Prince Henry. We learned that the siege would be renewed in the spring. The Earl of Arundel’s task was to weed out the members of the council who might oppose his plans so that we could bring a larger army to Wales. It was the start of an attempt by the Prince to marginalise his father. He was not usurping the throne but he was ensuring that England and the crown were safer.
I stayed for a month for the Prince wished me to help him inspect the border defences. While we rode, I learned that my son had been right. Prince Henry did have designs on France. When the rebellion was over, he would look across the Channel. “I believe, Sir William, that we can exploit the French divisions. I think that I will make overtures and form an alliance with Burgundy. They have no ambitions for England and it was Orléans which invaded Wales.”
“But, Prince Henry, what of your father?”
“He is ill, Will, and I would take some of the burden from his shoulders.”
I knew Henry Bolingbroke and I was not certain that his father would see it that way.
“And I am also strengthening the council with younger men who have vision. My uncles, the Beauforts, along with the Bishop of Durham and the Bishop of Bath and Wells have all shown that they are loyal to England and the House of Lancaster. With a strong council, we can neutralise Parliament and ensure we have monies for a foreign war. It will be an investment for Gascony and France are rich countries.”
I started for he was no longer speaking of just reclaiming English land but the crown of France, “France, Your Highness?”
“My grandsire, King Edward III, was heir to the French throne through his mother, Isabella of France. He had more of a claim to the French crown than the man they gave it to, for Philip of Valois was a cousin of the King.”
It struck me that they were looking back almost eighty years but there was little point in arguing with him for I was not learned enough to do so.
“I know that you will keep these confidences to yourself for first we must subdue the Welsh and this time you shall be my hammer to destroy my enemies. We will take both castles next year and then I shall return to London where I will begin my plans to conquer France and you, Strongstaff, will be at my side.”
As my men and I headed home I was conflicted. I wished to serve my country and my King but I would, once again, be sent away from my family. More, my sons and son in law would be involved too. I had grandsons who would grow up without a father unless Prince Henry won a swift victory in France. All that I had learned would have to stay with me for I had been told in confidence. It was a burden I would bear alone.
Chapter 14
We returned in January through a bleak snow-covered land to muster with the rest of the army in Shrewsbury. Half of the army was already there and the rest would arrive soon. Once again, the Prince would sail from Bristol with his cannon. His younger brother had returned to Ireland and his place had been taken by Humphrey, another brother. I was not sure why Thomas had been sent away but then again, Prince Henry was increasingly a man of secrets. This time the Earl of Westmoreland, Sir Ralph Neville, was with us and that meant Red Ralph’s son, Ralph, and his men were there too. It would be good to fight alongside the son of my mentor. He now had a family and a son to carry on the family name. In the tradition of his family he, too, was named Ralph.
We left for Aberystwyth at the end of January. I thought it too soon to travel for the roads would be appalling but the message came from the Prince and after the debacle of the previous year no one would gainsay him. In the end, the journey through the frozen heartland of Wales proved to be safer than when we had done the same journey the previous year. The ground was so frozen that even the land not traversed by roads was hard enough for wagons. We had carts with food, fodder and arrows and we were not attacked. Even better was the fact that there was neither snow nor frozen ground by the time we reached Aberystwyth and we occupied the town once more. The Welsh must have thought us beaten for they had neither repaired their castle walls nor removed our trenches. It was but a week’s work to put back in place the defences around the castle.
Dafydd Gam was with us once more and we learned that it had been he who had advised the Prince to return so quickly. “I scouted the walls in December, Sir William, and saw that they had been lax. More, I knew that they had not replaced the food stores laid in for a siege.”
I was curious, “How did you manage that?”
He grinned, “Why, we sneaked inside and pretended to be merchants. We bought some of the empty barrels in which they had stored their food and saw their cellars. They were empty as they had not yet replenished them. I had men watching and no wagons have brought food yet. We can starve them out.”
We were standing at a window of the tallest house in Aberystwyth and looking towards the east gate when I pointed to the gatehouse, “Those cracks are worse than when I was here last and that may be down to the ice and frost. The gatehouse might fall soon enough.”
“Aye, lord, you are right, nature came to the aid of the true Prince of Wales. The frost and ice enlarged the cracks which the cannons had begun. See, the mortar needs to be replaced for the early winter was harsh and they cannot make mortar when it is this cold.”
This time, when the ships and the cannon arrived, I saw a change in both the gunners and the Prince. He had learned his lessons and they unloaded stone missiles to be used by the cannons. He had also brought more archers at his own expense. In addition, he brought three knights with horsed archers. I knew Thomas, Lord Camoys for I had fought alongside him before. He brought twenty men at arms and sixty horse archers. They were as good as my men. Sir Walter Hungerford was a knight who, like me, was an advocate of horsed archers. Unfortunately, he was also one of the bluntest men I knew and had a habit of speaking first and thinking later. It would bring him into conflict with the Prince. And then there was Thomas Chaucer, he was young and was an Esquire. He brought thirty horsed archers and five men at arms. I knew him a little for his father, who was a writer and served the King in London, Geoffrey Chaucer, had stayed at Weedon on his way to York. All in all, I was more confident.
The King sent a large number of his men, led by Sir John Talbot, to cut off Harlech. He gave strict instructions that Sir John was not to begin an attack until he arrived but he was to ensure that they received no supplies. They, too, would begin to starve.
The bombardment began in the middle of February when the snow still lay on the mountains to the east. We did not bother with a mine for we had a breached wall already but the Prince wished to make a two-fold attack. We had spent many hours devising the plan. When the gatehouse wall was breached then we would attack the two breaches with men at arms. Once the southern tower was in ou
r hands then we would use our superiority in archers to rain arrows on the defenders of the inner wall whilst attacking the barbican keep with all of our men at arms.
Each day I went with the Prince and Lord Camoys to view the cannons and this time I saw that they were effective. The gunners had improved and they now concentrated their rocks on the same spot. Their first volley would be with all four fowlers at the same time. The combined noise was terrifying to hear but the collective strike of four heavy rocks which had taken two men to load began to take effect. Then the cannons would be fired individually to hit the same spot. The result was that after a week the cracks in the wall were clear for all to see. The Prince was so confident that we could soon attack that he sent half of the men at arms and the archers to the southern tower by the river and told us to prepare to follow him into the breach.
This time the gunners began to batter the wall at the point just above the earthen rampart. Above it, the walls had serious cracks and we had heard the defenders shoring them up with wood. The first four rocks struck stones in the wall which had yet to be hit. The effect was staggering. A huge section of crenulated wall tumbled into the ditch and the cracks became wider. Instead of employing the same technique as previously the Master Gunner ordered all four cannons to be reloaded and to fire at the same time. The process was still no quicker and almost an hour elapsed between firing. I understood the reason. The barrels were washed out so that when more gunpowder was placed in them they did not ignite. The second volley was even more successful and a huge section of the upper wall cascaded into the ditch thereby making a bridge. Even as they loaded the cannons again there was a rumble and a crack and more of the wall fell into the ditch. We could now see the shoring and the barbican keep. More importantly, we could see the inner gates were open. Prince Henry showed, that day, how much he had learned. He raised his sword and shouted, “God, for England, St. George and King Henry!” He led us towards the breach. Sir John Oldcastle was waiting at the southern tower and, raising his sword, he led the other half towards the damaged wall.
I stayed as close to the Prince as I could manage. The Earl of Westmoreland was on the other side of him and Sir Ralph of Middleham Tyas was close to my side. We had caught the Welsh unawares. They had been expecting a longer bombardment and half of the defenders were busy trying to repair the damage. The walls on either side of the breach were unmanned and neither arrows nor bolts came our way. We scrambled over the fallen masonry and then clambered over the remains of the wall. It was then that we should have been exposed and subject to attacks from the defenders but men who are repairing walls might wear mail and plate but their hands are filled not with weapons but tools. The speed of our attack took them by surprise and they raced for the barbican keep within. I heard Welsh voices shouting as a few arrows and bolts came belatedly from the barbican keep but the Prince and we bore a charmed life. The Welsh were trying to close the gates to the barbican keep. One brave Welshman swung at me with his mattock but Ralph remembered his time with me as a squire and took the man’s arm with one swipe of his sword. I knew as we neared them that even if they closed them then more than a third of their defenders would still be trapped outside their walls for Sir John had trapped many men on the south-eastern wall.
I already knew the Prince to be both brave and fearless but that day showed that he had taken those attributes to a different level. Even though the gates were closing he hacked and slashed at the Welsh who were still trying to get inside. I managed to use my long arms and long sword to bring it down and split the head and back of a huge Welsh blacksmith who was trying to swing his hammer at the Prince. He had no mail and I laid his flesh open to the bone. More importantly, his bulk filled the gap and the Prince stepped lithely through followed by my former squire, Ralph.
Shouting, “Save the Prince!” I threw myself through.
Rather than waiting for help the Prince and Ralph were racing after the fleeing Welsh to the second gate. I did not look around and I just prayed that the Earl of Westmoreland and the rest were securing the first gate behind me. As it was, we had to take the second gate or risk being trapped between the two gates and I knew that there were many murder holes both above us and to the side. The Prince and Ralph had been held up by four men who were blocking the gates which were slowly closing behind them.
Behind me, I heard Abelard shout, “I am with you, lord!”
I shouted to the Prince and Ralph, “The Strongstaff comes!”
I ran at the two young warriors who had fought at my side and I counted on the fact that they would push to the sides and allow a gap for me to step into it. I had no intention of doing so. Instead, I would become a human missile. Holding my sword in two hands I hurled myself at the tiny gap between Prince Henry and Ralph. I knocked both of them and the men they were fighting to the side. I hoped Abelard had my back and I struck the two Welshmen standing in the narrowing gap with my sword and shield. Abelard was pushing behind me and the strength he had accrued training with his father propelled the two of us through the gap. My sword caught under the Welshman’s breastplate and entered his body. Abelard’s charge pushed me forward and I lost my grip on my sword. I leapt to my feet and drew my rondel dagger.
The men who had been pushing closed the gates now turned their attention to me. One grabbed a spear and ran at me. I had my mail gauntlets and I deflected the spear but it tore through the leather strap on my shield. It fell from my arm while the man ran into my dagger which tore into his throat. Still holding the dagger, I grabbed his spear and swashed it before me. When they fell back a little, I reversed it so that I was pointing the metal head at them. Abelard’s backplate touched mine and the two of us faced the defenders as the Prince and the others pushed at the gates to attempt to secure the entry of the rest of our men. My spearhead caught one Welshman in the eye and I then lunged at his fellow. I caught him in the shoulder between metal plates and, as he fell backwards, he dragged the spear from my hands.
Seeing his chance, a Welsh Esquire wearing a mail hauberk ran at me with his sword and buckler shield. I held my dagger in my right hand and with my left grabbed the blade. My strength surprised him; I saw it in his eyes. I hooked my right leg around his left and pushed, using his shield to help me. He tumbled backwards and I used my right foot to stamp on his face. He was rendered unconscious. I ran at the two men who were still pushing on the opening gate. I stabbed one in the side and the other fled through the door into the keep. Suddenly the gates burst open and the Earl of Westmoreland led our men at arms and knights to flood into the inner bailey.
Turning I saw that the Prince, Ralph and Abelard were alive and unhurt, I grabbed my sword and looked for enemies. There were none and I saw the door to the southern part of the barbican keep was open. The man who had fled from me had been so frightened that he had forgotten to close it. I shouted, “Follow me!” and ran inside the door and up the spiral staircase. I was lucky that the last man had been so afraid. Had he had the courage then he could have stopped me from ascending. As it was, I found no-one until I reached the first floor. I knew that I had pushed my luck already and so I stood, panting to catch my breath while my men raced up.
Captain Edgar and Stephen of Morpeth were the first through the door. My Captain shook his head, “My lord we have others who can risk their lives!”
I laughed but I was too out of breath to speak. There were twelve men before us but, somehow, our bloody weapons and my surcoat covered in gore and blood seemed to intimidate them. The Prince stepped into the chamber followed by the Earl of Westmoreland.
“Throw down your weapons and I will let you live.” I had never heard such command in a voice that was not mine. They hesitated and the Prince shouted, “Do it!” The weapons clattered to the wooden floor. He then shouted, “Those who are above us, you have a choice, surrender or I will burn down the keep with you within it!”
It was draconian and meant that the barbican keep would have to be rebuilt before we could use it.
A Welsh voice from above shouted, “Do your worst! English bastard!”
The Prince said, quite calmly, “Earl, have men fetch kindling and torches.”
“Aye, lord. Fetch kindling and torches.” Some of the earl’s men left us
One of the men who had surrendered shouted to their comrades above, “He means to do it! The castle is lost!”
The Welsh voice shouted back down, “It matters not, we will fight to the end.”
We heard an argument break out above us as the earl’s men began to pile kindling at the bottom of the ladder leading to the upper floors of the keep. We understood not a word for it was in Welsh but then we heard the clash of steel and a cry before a body crashed down on to the kindling. The belligerent warrior had been silenced by his peers.
“We surrender and we will come down.”
And so the siege was ended. The Prince was not as pleased as one might have expected because this would have been the result the previous year if his orders had been obeyed and if it had been better led.
The townsfolk returned to their homes but there was precious little food for them. The Earl of Westmoreland and I persuaded the Prince that it was in his interests to feed them. He did so, albeit reluctantly. He had the men who had surrendered manacled and told them that although he would keep his word and let them live, before he would grant them their freedom they had to repair the damage to the castle. The work was well underway by the time we prepared to head north to Harlech, the last bastion of the Welsh rebels and the place where Sir Edmund Mortimer and Owain Glendower had taken refuge. It was becoming a little warmer when we did so. It was still a cold and inhospitable land through which we travelled but the lengthening days promised warmer weather to come. Messengers had been sent to alert the garrison at Caernarfon and to raise the levy of Cheshire to bring their archers to our aid. The cannons were sent by ship and they would land close to the camp of Sir John Talbot. The Prince was leaving nothing to chance.