by Kevin Ashman
Garyn moved his head slightly to look at Fletcher.
‘It’s true,’ said Elspeth’s father gently, ‘and he is growing into a fine young man.’
‘Does he know about me?’ asked Garyn.
‘He does, we have told him everything.’
‘And has he forgiven me for leaving him?’
‘There is nothing to forgive, father,’ said a voice and Garyn turned his head to see a young man standing at the end of the cart.
Everyone fell quiet as father and son stared at each other for the first time in their lives.
‘Thomas,’ said Garyn quietly and held up his hands.
Thomas clambered into the cart and as Elspeth moved aside, he held his father tightly in his embrace.
‘My boy,’ said Garyn weakly and as the tears started to flow, Garyn Ap Thomas passed away clinging tightly to the son he never knew he had.
----
Chapter Twenty Two
10 March 1295
Conway Castle
Longshanks stood in one of the northern towers, peering at the town below. The Welsh had long gone and the residents of Conway who had sought refuge amongst the hills during the siege had returned to repair their homes and businesses. Out in the river, dozens of barges lay at anchor, waiting their turn to be brought into the harbour where they would be fitted out ready to carry the king’s troops to Ynys Mon under the protection of a squadron of ships and a substantial land army. In addition, dozens of pontoon bridges had been constructed in Chester and were due to arrive any day in readiness to build a crossing to the island in place of the one burned months earlier. Ynys Mon was crucial in the control of the North and though Edward now held most of North Wales in his power, he knew that possession of the island was important if he was to stamp out the rebellion once and for all. He had heard of the defeat of Madog a few days earlier and though the news had caused great celebration, he knew there were still many smaller armies at large under the command of lesser warlords and the war was still not won.
A knock came on the door as he sipped his wine and he turned to see Nicholas Fermbaud enter the room.
‘Sire,’ said Fermbaud with a slight bow, ‘a word if I may.’
‘Of course,’ said the king, ‘come in.’
The past few months on campaign had been hard for Fermbaud yet he had risen to the task and Edward was happy with his contribution and it became known that he’d rather spend time with his men than around the heavily laden tables of the king’s court. Subsequently, as he became leaner and battle hardened, his demeanour changed back to that which had gained him a knighthood many years previously.
‘Any further news from the Earl of Warwick?’ asked Edward, pouring the knight a goblet of wine.
‘Not yet, Sire. They scour the Welsh hills as we speak but Madog has disappeared. I’m sure it is only a matter of time.’
‘Perhaps,’ said the king, ‘but it is a concern. There are still many rabid Welshman refusing to lie down across this cursed country and if he manages to link up with some of them, this struggle could extend into the summer and that, Fermbaud is something I cannot contemplate.’
‘I understand Gascony weighs heavy upon your mind, Sire.’
‘It does but I will not sail forth until the affairs of the Welsh are well and truly settled. We may be in control along the northern coast and mid Wales, Fermbaud but Ynys Mon evades me as does the south.’
‘Yes, well there is news regarding the south, Sire and I fear it is not good. Morgan Ap Maredudd heeded a plea for aid from the people of Brycheniog and assaulted the castle there. The castellan, a man by the name of Gerald of Essex was absent at the time and though the garrison put up a fight, it is understood there was an uprising from the servants within who overpowered the guards and enabled the Warlord to breach the walls. As we speak, Brecon castle lies in the hands of the Welsh.’
‘So where is the Earl of Gloucester?’
‘He engages on seeking those responsible for sacking the castles at Ogmore and Llantrisant,’ said Fermbaud, ‘a secondary force of Morgan yet one just as deadly. To be fair, it seems the uprising in the south is still as strong as ever and the Earl chases shadows most days.’
The king sighed.
‘Send a message to the Earl of Hereford,’ he said, ‘and request his engagement on my behalf. Ask him to send his forces south and deal with the situation in Brecon. I cannot spare the time at the moment for Ynys Mon lays heavy on my mind.’
‘Sire, the island is the main reason I came here this evening. I understand you are assembling a fleet to invade the island yet are concerned there is still a large force encamped along the shore.’
‘Indeed there is,’ said the king, ‘though we know not where. That is why I employ caution for if we attack and are under strength, they will repel us with ease and I cannot take that risk. In a few weeks the barges will be complete and we will smite the enemy with unmeasurable force.’
‘What if I was to say there is a way to bring that day forward and in the process, lower the chance of defeat?’
‘I would welcome your views,’ said the king, ‘share them with me.’
‘Sire, last night while my men were patrolling the shore west of here, they came across a fishing boat hidden amongst the reeds. The fisherman was still on board and it became apparent that during the storm yesterday, he lost his sail and was cast upon the rocks. His boat was damaged and he was trying to effect repairs so he could return whence he came.’
‘And where was that?’
‘Ynys Mon.’
The king lowered his wine glass and looked at Fermbaud with renewed interest.
‘Continue,’ he said.
‘Well, at first my men were just going to despatch him as a spy but he begged for his life in return for information.’
‘What information?’
‘He told us the location of the Welsh army on the island.’
‘Where is he?’ demanded the king, ‘I would speak to him immediately.’
‘Alas, after he told my men, they were bringing him back when he tried to escape. An arrow brought him down but he did not survive the journey and now lies dead.’
‘Damn,’ said Longshanks, ‘his information could have proved crucial.’
‘Sire, it still could,’ said Fermbaud, ‘I have a suggestion and would beg your indulgence.’
‘Go on.’
‘My men grow impatient at the continued inaction and ask continuously for a chance to seek out the enemy. I have explained there is a greater plan but this is an opportunity that could benefit you, them and indeed me.’
‘In what way.’
‘I note that there are several barges already finished and I request permission to land my men on Ynys Mon under cover of darkness to seek out the enemy camp. If successful, we can engage them prior to the main army and inflict what casualties we can. We may not defeat the entire force but even the presence of your men on the island will strike fear into their hearts and any ensuing invasion will find the defences much thinner.’
‘Fermbaud, you do realise that if they lay stronger than you think, then your entire command could be wiped out?’
‘It is a possibility,’ said Fermbaud, ‘but the island is a big place and we should be able to evade them if we keep on the move but I do not think it will come to that. The fisherman told of a force no more than a thousand strong. I believe we can get in, cause havoc amongst their number and get back to the barges before they can reorganise.’
‘This is a big ask, Fermbaud,’ said the king, ‘I’m not sure I can allow it.’
‘Sire, consider the benefits. The enemy will be severely weakened which means when you lead the assault, fewer of our men will die. Even if I lose some of my men, it will be significantly lower than if you face ranks of archers as you disembark the barges. The assault will take less time which will release you to campaign south and put this rebellion to bed once and for all.’
Edward stared at the knight, considerin
g the proposal.
‘Sire, there is one more thing,’ said Fermbaud, ‘and it is a personal one.’
‘Continue.’
‘Many months ago you expressed a desire to see me display the mettle expected of a knight. I will be honest and say your words cut me to the core, not because they were harsh but because they were true. When I lost my men to the blades of Cynan Ap Maredudd, I was guilty of arrogance and an expectation that just because I bore a title, I was deserving of victory. It was a conceited stance to take and cost the lives of many men. Since then, I have suffered many sleepless nights and realised I had grown fat and lazy, afflictions caused by comfort and abuse of my position. However, I believe I have seen the error of my ways and have worked hard to find the knight within.’
‘You have indeed become a valued asset in this campaign, Fermbaud.’
‘Perhaps so but it is not enough. The war will soon be over and I worry that I will not have done enough to redeem my name, not just in your eyes or the eyes of the court but in the eyes of my men. Subsequently I believe this may be my last chance and beg permission to lead this assault in your name.’
Edward walked around the room, thinking about the implications.
‘How many men would you require?’
‘I will take only those under my command, about a thousand.’
‘Barges?’
‘Ten.’
‘And you truly believe you can inflict a defeat upon the enemy?’
‘If not a defeat, certainly cause them severe casualties.’
‘And when do you intend this to take place?’
‘If you are agreeable, tomorrow night.’
‘Why so soon?’
‘The weather is fair and we do not risk stormy waters. If we wait, who knows how long it may be before the circumstances are so favourable?’
‘You do realise that if you find yourself outnumbered, we will not be able to come to your aid?’
‘I do, Sire and it is a risk I am willing to take.’
Edward stopped his pacing and stared at Fermbaud.
‘Are you sure about this?’
‘I am, Sire, more certain than I have ever been in my life.’
‘So be it, said Longshanks and may god be with you.’
----
The following night, Fermbaud crouched in the bow of a barge as it bumped against the far shore of Ynys Mon. Either side of him, other vessels landed silently and the soldiers climbed out quickly to wade through the shallow water. Within minutes, over a thousand men ran to the treeline and lay down in the dark shadows, awaiting further orders.
Fermbaud and eight other men spoke quietly between themselves before they split up and four groups of two went in different directions, each seeking the encampment they knew was somewhere close by while the knight returned to his officers.
‘What now, Sire?’ asked one of the men.
‘Now we wait,’ said Fermbaud and pulled his cloak further around him.
----
Hours later the last of the scouts returned and to Fermbaud’s great relief, reported they had found the location. Immediately the Sergeants were informed and they made their way amongst the men, waking those who slept. Cloaks were discarded along with any loose equipment that may make any noise and soon the entire landing force crept through the forest and formed up in the bushes above a depression in the landscape. Fermbaud crawled forward to join the scout peering down at the camp.
‘Their tents stretch up to the far campfire,’ whispered the scout, pointing across the valley, ‘it seems they feel very safe here for there are sentries only on either end of the valley. At the far end, there are about fifty horses but apart from that, it seems they enjoy an ale fuelled sleep.’
‘Then let’s see if we can interrupt their sweet dreams,’ said Fermbaud and crawled back down the slope.
----
Fermbaud briefed his officers and the sergeants.
‘The plan is simple,’ he said, ‘the scouts have been dispatched to kill the sentries. Once done, our men will descend on the camp as quietly as they can. Tell them they are to stay silent as long as possible. Take no swords or maces, this night belongs to our knives.’
‘But if there is a counter attack, we will be at their mercy,’ said a sergeant.
‘If we do this right there will be no counter attack. I want to be down there for as little time as possible. We will strike as quickly and silently as an Adder and get out before the alarm is given. By the time they realise what has happened we will be back on the boats and they will not know if we are still a threat. Any questions?’
When none was forthcoming the sergeants were sent to brief the men until finally one of the scouts appeared out of the darkness.
‘The deed is done,’ he gasped, ‘all sentries are dead.’
‘Then muster the men,’ said Fermbaud and within minutes, a thousand men at arms crept as quietly as they could down the darkened slope toward the tented camp.
----
The following few minutes saw carnage ensue amongst the Welsh camp. Men in groups of four would pounce upon a tent, collapsing it on those sleeping inside before frantically plunging their blades as fast as they could into anything beneath. Any groans or shouts were muffled under the heavy linen and hundreds died before anyone managed to shout the alarm.
Immediately the camp seemed to come alive but to add to the confusion, the attackers threw tents on the flames of the campfires and overturned the enemy carts, spreading their contents over the floor. The sounds of battle echoed through the night but the Welsh had no idea what was happening, only that they were under attack.
The night belonged to the English and even as the screams of dying men echoed through the darkness, a flaming arrow soared into the night sky and they knew it was time to leave. Every attacker ran back to the hill, many pausing to grab what booty they could before climbing up the slope. Within minutes they were racing back toward the shore and soon the barges pulled into the estuary, their cargo of men ecstatic with the success of the mission.
As soon as they reached the mainland the celebrations began and the air filled with the sound of men congratulating each other on their success. Any items taken from the camp were placed on waiting carts and one by one, the sergeants reported their losses to Fermbaud.
‘Seven dead and thirteen wounded in total, Sire’, said one of the sergeants, ‘and I reckon over five hundred enemy lay slain in the enemy camp. It has been a good night.’
‘A tally worthy of any man,’ said Fermbaud, ‘let’s get back to Conway as quickly as possible and once there, let the men loose on the casks of ale. This night has been one of note and once the king hears of our success, I’m sure he will be the first to sing their praises.’
‘So be it,’ said the man and turned to arrange the march.
Fermbaud smiled to himself before drawing his blade and wiping it on the sleeve of his jacket to clear the Welsh blood.
----
Chapter Twenty Three
Builth Castle
July 1295
Longshanks rode slowly through the devastated town of Builth. All around him the air stank of fire where Cynan’s men had torched the buildings before fleeing into the hills.
The Earl of Warwick had done a splendid job over these past few months for not only had he defeated the Welsh prince at Nant Moydoc but also hounded the armies of Cynan throughout Mid Wales. Now neither was a major risk anymore and though some rebels fought on across the country, they were isolated and their days were numbered.
It was a good time for Longshanks. The island of Ynys Mon was completely in his control as was the whole of the north. Mid Wales would be cleansed of the rebels within days and he had received news that the Welsh leader in the west, Maelgwyn Ap Rhys Fechan had fallen in battle at the hands of Henry De-Lacey.
That just left the south and though Brecon Castle still lay in the hands of Morgan Ap Maredudd, it seemed that he posed little threat to local English interests and coul
d be dealt with in due course.
----
Longshanks continued to the castle and dismounted before being led into the great hall.
‘Sire,’ said the castellan bowing deeply, ‘welcome to Builth. I am sorry it is not in better circumstances but we have done all we can to make your stay comfortable.’
‘It will suffice,’ said Longshanks. He paused before getting straight to the reason he had travelled so far. ‘Take me to him.’
‘Of course,’ said the castellan and led the king out of the hall and across the courtyard toward a corner tower. Longshanks followed, eager to see the man whose capture had brought him here. The two men descended the staircase and stopped before a cell guarded by two armed soldiers.
‘Open the door,’ said the castellan, ‘and make way for the king.’
One of the guards turned a key and taking a candle from a holder on the wall, walked inside the room, closely followed by Longshanks.
Against the wall a naked man laid on a pile of stinking straw, matted with faeces. Around his neck was a heavy metal shackle secured by a chain fixed to a loop in the dungeon wall.
‘Is this him?’ asked Longshanks.
‘It is,’ said the castellan.
‘Are you sure?’
He freely admits his identity.
‘It could be an imposter willing to die in his cause. Stranger things have happened.’
‘I don’t think so my lord, he has been identified by several independent sources.’
Longshanks stepped forward and kicked the prisoner.
The man lifted his head wearily and stared at the king.
‘So,’ said Edward, ‘you are the great and feared Cynan Ap Maredudd.’
‘And you are the tyrant Longshanks,’ replied Cynan, ‘defiler of women and murderer of children.’
Edward stifled a laugh.
‘The man still has spirit,’ he said with amusement.
‘The spirit of Wales will always remain even though you slaughter our brethren.’