by Griff Hosker
And so, the days before my wedding were filled from dawn until dusk and often beyond. My archers practised without me, and our experiences meant that the practice was extended to include swordplay. We had brought weapons back from the east and my men were taught to use them.
John of Nottingham and Jack of Lincoln were the leaders of my men, but I doubted that they would travel to war. Both had married and had children; I had given them smallholdings on my land. Each was the size of the home my father had built. I gave them permission to enlarge them if they needed to.
Alan, too, had married, and he and his wife lived beyond my walls with their two sons. He was a hunter and lived close to the woods.
The others, who were single, lived in a small hall which was attached to the Great Hall. The previous owner had used it for his half dozen men at arms. The only other exception was Richard of Culcheth, who shared a small house with his son, Robin, son of Richard, and Mags, the woman he had married.
The night before our wedding, Mary and I went to the church to speak with Father Paul. We would both be shriven and the ceremony explained. With no father to give away Mary, that part would be omitted.
For Mary, this was all new. She was a Christian, but she had been brought up in the Eastern Church and for most of her life she had lived amongst non-Christians. She wished everything to be done correctly. On our way back from the crusade she had insisted upon visiting the churches in each town we passed. As she observed to me, she had been forced to be away from them for so long that she had to visit them as often as she could.
For myself, I knew that this was a momentous time in my life. It was not just a wife I was taking on; hopefully, there would be children, and it was as we walked back to my hall, wrapped in furs against the wicked wind which blew in from the Welsh mountains in the west, that she expressed her fears to me. I think she chose that moment for we were alone, and she wished none to overhear her words.
“Gerald, I am not sure if I will be able to have children.”
I said nothing, for the thought had crossed my mind.
“Since first I became a woman, someone who was used by men at court, I have taken those drugs and potions which prevent a child from being conceived. Since we decided to wed, I have not taken them, but I know not what effect it will have had upon my body.”
I nodded. “I wish for children as you do, but I also want to spend my life with you and that is more important. What will be shall be. If you cannot bear children of your own, there are many orphans in this land who need someone to care for them. Let us not speak of that. Tomorrow we wed, and you are anticipating that which may never come to fruition.”
She squeezed my arm as James opened the front door and we saw the warm glow from within. “You are a good man, and I am lucky. I thank God for the day you were sent to rescue me!”
As much as I wished to be married, the day itself was something of an ordeal. I could not relax because of Lady Maud’s brooding presence. She made a gift of a fine table and chairs as well as ten golden marks, but I would have preferred that she was not there. All the rest were my people and, with them, I was both at ease and more confident. Mercifully, Lady Maud and Sir Roger did not stay beyond the baron giving a toast to his most loyal gentleman, Gerald Warbow of Yarpole. His age meant he did not like to be out late.
After they left us to make the journey home in daylight, I relaxed more and could play the host to my men and their families. We celebrated! When all had departed and I took Mary to our bed, I was nervous. I had almost no experience with women and in my twenty-odd years on this earth, I had yet to lie with one. Mary was gentle with me and that, in many ways, was surprising, for she had been ill-treated, certainly by the last warrior who had abused her. I had expected, at worst, tears, and at best, nervousness. Yet there was neither, and it was she who led me into the joys and pleasures of marital coupling. I was unsure if I had done things right and I dared not ask, yet when I cradled her head in the crook of my arm, she gave a contented sigh and said, “I have a good man and a gentleman. God has been kind to me!”
Life on the manor began to become hectic as spring approached. I had yet to see a full year at Yarpole, and while King Edward remained abroad, that was likely to continue. I placed myself in the hands of James who was patient with me. Mary was busy learning to be the lady of the manor as well as a homemaker. Sarah was patient with her too.
As early summer approached, two things happened. Firstly, in the middle of April, we discovered that Mary was with child. She and Sarah were so close that it was my housekeeper who saw the first signs, and they were confirmed by the village midwife, Anne of Yarpole. I was filled with happiness and Mary even more so, for all of her fears seemed to be groundless. We celebrated by broaching a new barrel of ale.
The second event was also important, but I did not see it at the time. It happened the night of the barrel-broaching. Robin, son of Richard, had been restless since our return from the Holy Land. Added to that, he lived with his father. Richard of Culcheth had remarried a widow, Mags, and they shared a bed. It was a small house and I think that began the discord. It was aggravated by the fact that Richard still thought he could tell his son what to do and, having been a crusader, Robin objected. It came to a head when I was woken in the middle of the night by the noise of brawling. Grabbing my sword, I raced outside and found Richard and his son fighting. Robin was winning! John of Nottingham and Jack of Lincoln were on hand to pull them apart. Father and son were bleeding heavily, for while they had not used weapons, archers are strong men and when they punch, they break skin and bones.
“What is going on? My wife and I have been disturbed!”
“I will not be told to be quiet in my own home by a stripling of a boy!”
Robin spat out a tooth. “And I will not endure a fat old man heaving the night away with a slattern!”
“I will—”
“Enough! Richard, go back to your bed. Robin, you shall sleep in my hall this night and when, tomorrow, heads are clear of drink, we shall sit, and we shall talk!” The voice I used was that of a captain of archers. The two were used to obeying it, and they nodded and headed off in different directions.
My wife had been listening and Mary, who had grown close to Robin on the journey home, led him to the chamber next to ours. There was a straw-filled mattress on the floor. When my child was born it would be their room.
“Thank you, Captain.” There was no door, just a curtain, and he closed it.
I lay with Mary and she said, “This is not like Robin. He is normally placid. I do not know his father. Is he normally a bully?”
I shook my head. “Richard is no bully. There is more to this than noisy lovemaking. I will speak with Robin in the morning.” I smiled in the dark. “I suppose that everything else has gone smoothly, and it is natural to expect some sort of payment for my joy!”
I did not sleep well, for my mind was filled with strange thoughts. Would I have such arguments with my child when he or she was older? I had never been close to my own father, and how would I ensure that my child and I were different? I also worried that I had, somehow, created this problem. Should I have given Robin his own dwelling?
The result was that I was well awake before the first cock crow and even beat Sarah to the kitchen. I put on the pot of porridge, which was our staple breakfast, as I began to bring the bread oven up to temperature. There was little bread left from the previous day, but the pieces which were left could be toasted on the fire and served with Sarah’s butter. I drank a beaker of beer and stirred the porridge.
Robin arrived shortly after Sarah. As I expected, Sarah was less than happy at my intrusion. The kitchen was her domain, although she would share it with Mary. “Get yourself back to bed, Captain! There is naught for you to do here!”
“I am awake, and I used to make porridge for my father. I can still do it!”
She nodded and went to the covered dough which had been left proving. Made with the left-over dregs of b
eer from the bottom of the jug, it was well risen and the little bubbles over the top showed that it would have a good crust. She began to shape the loaves. Robin arrived as she began to round them.
“Another one who cannot sleep! Is there some animal in the beds I should know about?”
We would periodically allow smoke to fill the bedrooms to eliminate any insect life from the beds. The cats we kept would rid the rooms of any vermin such as mice or rats.
Robin knew Sarah and smiled. “No, Gammer, but I heard the captain speaking and I need to talk with him. It does not do to let things fester.”
She saw the bruised face and knuckles. Perhaps she had forgotten the fight, for she would surely have heard it. She nodded. “My ears are closed, Robin, and you speak in here as though I was a priest.”
I poured him some ale. “It was not like you nor your father to fight so. If it is my fault for putting you in the same house, then I am sorry, and you can move into the warrior hall.”
He shook his head. “No, Captain, the row last night was bound to happen, for it is my father and me. He still sees me as a boy he can order around, but you know I am a warrior and a good one. I did not let you down on crusade, did I?”
“No, Robin, you were a beacon for others to follow and I could not fault you.”
He nodded. “It is clear that we both cannot stay here, and I cannot expect you to rid yourself of my father and his woman. Do not misunderstand me, Captain; I would rather stay here and serve you, but we both know that this company needs to be of one mind, and if it is not then we cannot fight for you as well as we might. My father and I will be like pebbles in a boot. We will upset the others. I will seek service with another lord, for I am a good archer, and the Marcher lords seek such bows as mine.”
My heart sank; only Will Yew Tree had left my service and he had returned quite quickly. Robin had come to me as a boy with his father, but he was right. We could not have dissension and it made more sense for the son to leave, but he was the better archer and would be missed more than his father.
“Perhaps some time apart might help.”
He shook his head. “It is the parting of the ways, but I am sorry that I am leaving you. I would go now, Captain, before the others are awake. I do not like goodbyes, and I do not wish to make your company choose between my father and me.”
I could understand those reasons. He was young and he was doing that which I had done when my father had been murdered. “Take your horse. He is a gift. And take this too.” I reached into my purse and took out ten marks. It was the money Lady Maud had given us. Mary would wish Robin to have it. “This will keep you fed until you find employment.”
“There is no need, Captain. You have paid me well; better, in fact, than other archers.”
“Nonetheless you will take it.”
I saw that Sarah was crying quietly. She had heard the words and knew that Robin meant well, but she was a parent and knew the distress it would cause Richard. She said quietly, “And I will pack you some food. We have a spare ale skin, sir; can I give it to him?”
“Of course, Sarah, and anything else that he needs.”
All of my men had good war gear and they all kept it to hand. Robin had collected his and saddled his horse before anyone else had risen. It was still dark when I clasped his arm and Sarah handed him his bundle.
“Where will you go?”
“Powys, I think. I have heard that Lord de Clare and Lord de Bohun seek men to fight for them against the Welsh.”
“Farewell, Robin, and if this does not work out, then return. Do not let pride keep you away from us!”
His horse clip-clopped across the stones of the yard and Sarah sighed. “Families! Both father and son have stiff necks! Had I known there was a problem, then I would have spoken to Mags. She could have handled them. Too late now.” Shaking her head, she said, “I had better get the bread into the oven. That will wake the hall.”
She was right. There was nothing better to wake to than the aroma of freshly baking bread.
Mary was in the kitchen when we returned. She said simply, “Robin has gone?”
I nodded. “He wants a new start, but his father will be hurt. These are the problems of the manor, my love. They must seem petty after life at the Mongol court.”
“Believe me, husband, the nobles around the khan had similar arguments, but I feel sorry for both of them. Suppose they never see each other again? Robin has left without a goodbye.”
“I do not think he meant to hurt his father, rather the opposite, but I know Richard and it will hurt.”
I was right and I had never seen my archer so distraught. “I had had too much to drink, Captain, and he could be so obstinate. I just wanted the best for him.”
I nodded. “And I think he knew that, but I have trodden the same path as he has chosen, and I have ended here. Fate has a way of levelling out our lives. I lost my father and found service with Lord Edward. Robin has not yet lost you, but he has lost a home. Who knows what he might find?” I saw that sinking in. “I told him that he will always have a home here and he can return at any time but, if he does, Richard, then I want no repetition of last night.”
“I am sorry for that, Captain. You gave us a home and you do not deserve it. I will work twice as hard from now on.”
Chapter 2
Robin’s departure was the talk of the manor and the village for a fortnight, and then we found other things to occupy our minds.
The manor needed all of us to work. Even I found myself stripped to the waist and toiling in the fields. There were new animals born and to be marked, as well as fields to be ploughed and sown.
Life was far more hectic for a farmer than an archer, though we still maintained our practice and I made a weekly competition when we were at the butts. I asked the men of the village to join us, for they could all use a bow, and Baron Mortimer and the king were entitled to ask for service at any time. Each week I gave a prize of silver to the best archer. The men of the village vied for the four pennies I offered. The result was keen competition, and men ensured that their bows and their arrows were of the highest quality.
We had passed the longest day; July was almost upon us, and my wife was becoming noticeably pregnant. While I worried about her, Sarah and the other women on the manor told me, politely, that this was women’s work and all was well. I did not argue, for I was as far out of my depth as I had ever been. I understood neither women nor their world.
We were at peace but that did not mean that we were not vigilant, for we were soldiers, and being vigilant was second nature to us. June had ended and I was already anticipating harvesting some of the early crops. I smiled to myself – a few years ago I would not have even dreamt of such things. Farms were simply places I might raid to find food.
My thoughts were interrupted by a whistle from Martin, who pointed up the road. A man was walking down the road and while one arm was bandaged, the other held a spear which he used as an aid to walk. By his clothes, he was a warrior, for he still wore a leather brigandine.
I put down the pitchfork I had been using to turn the horse muck and walked towards my sword, which hung from a gatepost. One man did not worry me, but I had used a trick like this once before. He could be a scout or even a decoy. I nodded to John and Jack who went back towards the hall. They would arm themselves.
The closer he came, the less threatening he appeared. He had no sword, and the spear was an old one with a hastily repaired head. His buskins were well worn. This was a warrior who was down on his luck and I wondered if he sought shelter. If so then I would grant it, for it was not only a Christian thing to do, but I also had an affinity for all those who wandered the roads of the realm. I had done so when I had been younger.
He was not a young man, for I saw streaks and flashes of silver in his hair. Now that he was drawing closer, I saw that his left hand was bloodily bandaged. It was a recent wound, and yet I had heard of no battles that were nearby. The man had passed my village an
d was heading for my hall. Father Paul would have offered him comfort so why was he seeking me?
I took the ale skin from its hook and the wooden beaker from the top of the post. I poured a beakerful. “Welcome, friend. It is a hot day and I dare say you could use a drink!”
He leaned his spear against the fence, which also allayed any remaining doubts I might have harboured. “Thank you, master.” He addressed me thus because of my sword. He drank the ale down in one and I waited. He had sought out my hall. “I am looking for a Richard of Culcheth.”
I turned, for Richard was repairing the fence around the sheep pen we would be using to mark the new sheep.
He heard his name and looked up. “I am Richard of Culcheth. Do I know you, my friend? From your dress, you are a soldier but not an archer. How do I know you?”
“You don’t, but I know your son, Robin; that is to say that I knew your son.”
My heart almost stopped, and I saw the look of terror on Richard’s face. This must be the worst fear for any parent and my yard was not the place to hear news which sounded bad. “Let us retire within the hall. Robin of Barnsley, continue with the work.”
“Aye, Captain. I am sorry, Richard.”
Like the rest of us, Robin of Barnsley assumed that this was bad news. If I had learned anything on my travels it was to assume the worst and then you were rarely disappointed. I thought, from what the stranger had said, that Robin, son of Richard, was dead, and I wondered what this would do to Richard, who had been a shadow of his former self since his son had gone.
John and Jack had alerted Sarah and my wife. Even as we arrived there were chairs ready for us in the hall we used for dining. There were questions in their eyes, but their voices were silent. I sat next to Richard and I noticed that John and Jack stood behind him. Sarah disappeared and I knew that she would bring in food.
I patted the other seat next to me. “Sit, wife, for this man has news of Robin, son of Richard here.”
The man said, “My name, lord, is Peter of Beverley.”