Targets of Treachery : A gripping, action-packed historical epic (Lord Edward's Archer series Book 4)

by Griff Hosker

  I knew from men I had served with when on crusade that border warfare was the same on the Scottish borders as the Welsh borders and, indeed, the border between Outremer and the Seljuk Turks. It was rarely the war of armies but more a tit for tat battle with sides choosing easy targets. As soon as we heard, in June, that Alberbury had been burned by Welshmen, I organised our defences.

  Following our return from Rhayader, I had built a stone entrance to my hall. It was narrow and had a good door. We could easily defend it. If, however, the enemy, whoever they were, managed to attack the door, then our main line of defence, our wall, had failed.

  I went around all the villagers and told them that when they heard the church bell toll constantly, they were to get to my hall with their families. These were not the same people who had hidden behind their doors when I had first come, after Evesham. These were my folk, and they would defend my walls, knowing that any mischief which damaged their homes would be repaired by my men and me.

  I had Peter organise my defences. He was the unofficial Captain of the Guard. Even Stephen deferred to him. He made a rota so that we had men on the gate twenty-four hours a day. Of course, if an enemy came at night, then our people would suffer, for they would not have enough warning to get within my walls.

  The walls themselves, and the gatehouse we had spent so long on before my son was born, would now come into their own. We had added a wooden palisade which was crenulated so that archers could shelter and loose obliquely at an attacking enemy. The ditch, which ran around the wooden outer wall, was well maintained, and we set to placing stakes in the bottom to injure any who tried to cross. There was one wooden bridge across the ditch. We began to raise it at night, hoping that would probably deter a night-time attack. We left it down during the day to allow people to enter.

  Our last defence was vigilance, and I rode out each day with two of my men to look for any signs of intruders. This was where I had the most experience. I had learned to scout and look for signs of an enemy when I had been barely a youth. While I always set out along the Welsh road, I rarely came back the same way. Instead, we would follow the waterways and the paths which crossed fields. I looked for footprints muddying the crossing of streams. I searched for horse dung where it should not be, and I looked for places where a warband might camp. For three weeks we saw nothing, but we heard of raids to the north and south of us. Dafydd ap Gruffydd still sent Captain Caradog into Wales to raid his brother and I knew that someday, and soon, the war would come to Yarpole.

  It was a strange time, for while we worked in the fields, picking the summer crops and tending to animals, we all watched over our shoulders. Men worked in the fields with whatever weapon they could find. Many simply used their billhooks. Those who had them strapped on a sword or a dagger. As every man old enough had a bow that he could use, they were encumbered by those too. I knew that this would wear down my men and their families but there was no other choice. The whole of the county was doing the same. We were watching and waiting for violence to strike. I cursed Dafydd ap Gruffydd for his ambition. This would cost lives. King Edward had thought that Welsh treachery might win Wales for him. Now it appeared it might lose him the borders!

  Chapter 7

  Inside my home, we tried to keep life as normal as we could. In the months since Christmas, I could not believe the change in my son. For the first month or more he had either been attached to my wife or asleep. If he was doing neither then his wails would tell the world that he needed attention. Then, seemingly suddenly, he began to take notice and to make sounds. He started to smile when I walked in and spoke. I had learned to use a different voice when speaking to him. I was softer and gentler. Mary smiled when I did so. I was always rewarded by smiles at first and then giggles. Despite the threat from beyond our walls, those smiles and giggles warmed my heart and made me feel that we would prevail. God had sent us a son and he had given me something as important as Mary to defend.

  John and Jack both had sons who, whilst not old enough to be either archers or men at arms, could, like every boy their age, use a slingshot. Pebbles from the streams had been gathered and the four boys would be part of the defence of the hall. John, son of John, was an agile ten-year-old and he had managed to scale the roof of my hall before. He had been in trouble with his father and wished to avoid a beating by escaping up there. We now used that skill, and he would clamber out of the door we used in the roof to lift heavy objects, and then he would sit astride the roof, watching the roads into Yarpole.

  On one particular day, I had been down the Welsh Road with John’s father and we had seen nothing.

  “Perhaps they have better targets, Captain. Yarpole has little to offer to a raider.”

  I shook my head. “Alberbury had less and that was chosen. This is about vengeance. They cannot get at Dafydd, for he squats inside Shrewsbury’s strong walls. Wigmore, Leominster, Hereford – all of those places have castles. Wigmore is the strongest in this part of the Marches. The Welsh have not forgotten Llanymynech. They will wish to punish us but, perhaps, our new defences have made them think again.”

  Just then we spied my hall and I saw John’s son, John, waving from the roof. John waved back at his son, but I knew that it was not a greeting. That was confirmed when he pointed to the south-east.

  “They have come – ride!”

  I dug my heels in Eleanor’s flanks. John’s son must have only just spied the danger, for there was no tolling of the bell. That would come. As we passed houses and people, their waves of greeting were stopped when I shouted, “Get into the walls! The Welsh are coming!”

  Whatever happened, my village owed a debt of gratitude to John, son of John of Nottingham. I heard the bell tolling and knew that we would have men to defend the walls. More importantly, the families would also be safe. We would lose animals and the Welsh would try to destroy our crops, but seeds could be replanted and animals bought. People were harder to replace.

  We were not the first to ride through my gates. Those whose houses were the closest were already pouring through. James was in charge of them and he was already directing them to the barns and outbuildings. We would be packed inside but, thanks to my new walls, we would be safer than in the village.

  I shouted up to John, son of John, “Where away?”

  He cupped one hand and pointed with the other. “They have fired Luston!”

  Luston was a small hamlet a mile and a half to the south-west. There was little there, and the people used our church and our mill. Without a lord to protect them, they were helpless. I hoped that they had had warning and been able to escape but, even as the thought entered my head, I knew that there would be English captives heading back to Wales unless we defeated the Welsh and reclaimed them.

  “Can you see any?” I meant, of course, the Welsh, but if there were survivors they would be coming across the fields.

  “The woods hide them, but I can see flashes of metal as the sun catches them!”

  I pointed to the south-east corner of our walls. “Peter of Beverley, they have fired Luston. Man the tower and keep a watch for survivors.”

  He waved his acknowledgement and rattled out his orders.

  I ran inside my hall. Mary was feeding Hamo and I gave her a wan smile. “Danger comes.”

  “But the people are safe?”

  “Aye, the Welsh will find us a little large to swallow. I must arm. Fear not, my love; we have good people.”

  She smiled. “Aye, and a leader who knows how to fight! Hurt them so that they never return!”

  My wife had lived amongst Mongols and knew the way that they fight. Mongols do not take prisoners!

  I already wore my brigandine and had my sword, but I grabbed my helmet and not only my war bow but my Mongol bow. This might be the time to give the Welsh archers a taste of its power! I hurried to the centre of my walls and saw that all the walls were manned. My own retinue; archers and men at arms, were on the south and western walls, facing Luston. The others were spread
around.

  Alan was the last to arrive. We now called him Alan of the Woods as his home was so close to the wood to the south of us. His wife, Anna, and his two sons rode his horse.

  As he helped his family down, I said, “Alan, ride to the church and fetch Father Paul. All else are within the walls.”

  “Aye, Captain. We saw men heading through your wood.”

  I nodded. “The south wall is manned too. Hurry!”

  He sprang onto the back of his horse and galloped off to ride the short way to the church.

  I took my bows and ran to the barn tower. The barn was at the junction of the south and west walls. We had built the walls so that we had the protection of the barn behind us and there was a small wooden tower at the corner. Tom and Martin were there already.

  When I reached them Tom shouted, “I see them, Captain; they are heading up the Luston Beck, and I also see some of the villagers – there are just six of them.”

  I strung my Mongol bow and took an arrow.

  I stood next to the tower and John of Nottingham shouted, “I see them. It is Harold of Luston and his family!”

  “Cupping my hands, I cried, “Harold, run to the main gate and we will cover you!”

  They were three hundred paces from us, but he waved acknowledgement and urged his wife, sons and daughters on. In his hand, he carried his scythe.

  “Do not waste arrows. Loose only when you are sure that you can hit one.”

  I saw the Welsh as they emerged from the shallow stream. As I had expected, the ones who were chasing were the archers. My dilemma was that they were closer to Harold of Luston than they were to us. They would be able to slay them before my men were in range. Had it just been Harold then he might have had a chance, but his wife was struggling.

  I saw the Welsh archer stand and draw. I had an arrow nocked. The range was extreme, even for me, but I was elevated and that would give me more range. The Mongol arrow was long, and it was a barbed arrow. It was one I had brought back from the crusade. I loosed but was aware that there was a breeze from my left. I had not allowed for it. Despite that, I saw the Welshman draw fully back and then watched as my arching arrow plunged from on high to smash into his skull. His bow and nocked arrow fell from his dying hands. It was not just the fact that I had saved Harold that was important, it was the fact that I shocked the Welsh archers. They knew their range and ours. My single arrow made them not only stop but rush back to the protection of the stream. Harold and his family would be safe, and they would try to find another way in.

  John of Nottingham was my most experienced archer. He had not been on a crusade and had not seen the bow used in anger. He shook his head. “Captain, if we only knew how to make such bows… None could defeat us.”

  “But we do not. This one will have to suffice, and we have set them a problem.”

  Stephen de Frankton joined us. He pointed to the sun which, whilst still in the sky, was beginning to drop to the west. “If they have any sense they will wait until dark.”

  “And get closer to our walls?”

  He nodded. “They cannot have brought ladders, but they may try to cross the ditches and scale our walls. Of course, if they do then they will be hurt!”

  The Welsh would not know that the bottom of the ditch was covered in sharpened spikes. There was an ankle breaker to stop them leaping. With luck, they would try to cross, and we might be able to discourage them.

  “The danger is if they have fire arrows, Stephen. They are my only fear.”

  David the Welshman was studying the ground. “We know how to make them, Captain, but I doubt if these raiders do. I will ask Harold of Luston how they were attacked.” He disappeared down the ladder.

  We could no longer see the Welsh and had no idea of numbers. They had gone to ground. The fields around my hall gave us a good line of sight but there were four small dwellings, behind which they could hide, and there were fences too. But Stephen was right. We had put good defences in place and we had to trust them. What we did know was that there would be no help coming to us, for none would know of our plight. I smiled and shook my head.

  Stephen de Frankton said, “Something amuses you, Captain?”

  “No, Stephen, it is just that it is not long since I was last besieged with no sign of help, but that was in Acre! Somehow this seems more precious.”

  Just then John, son of John of Nottingham, who still had his precarious perch, yelled, “They come!”

  My men had arrows nocked and there were darts and stones for those without a bow. None of my people needed encouragement from me, and any words might make them think I lacked faith in them.

  Stephen said, “It seems they have no sense, Captain!”

  For all that it was foolish, the Welsh showed great skill and courage. They rose from the ditch and, with two dozen men protected by shields, they ran towards the abandoned houses. They were followed by more than thirty archers.

  I spied a half dozen men at arms and what looked to be a knight, well out of range. I say looked like, for he had mail and a good helmet. The livery seemed familiar. The men at arms wore brigandines.

  The men with shields left the houses and advanced together with the archers close behind. They were now within range of us.

  John of Nottingham said, “They have fewer men than I would have expected.”

  I had thought the same. “Then there may be others ready to attack while our attention is here. John, go to the village gatehouse. Your presence might stiffen the resolve of our people. And get your son down from the roof. He has done all that we might have hoped.”

  Stephen was staring at the advancing men. The ones with shields were fewer than two hundred paces from the walls – we had stone markers to give us the range – and we could have risked arrows, but with the relatively small number of archers I had to hand, the men with shields would be able to see the arrows and block them. Had we a hundred or more then we could have loosed a shower and guaranteed some hits.

  “Captain, I recognise the man at arms who is with the knight,” said Stephen. “It is Rhodri ap Rhodri, who was our gaoler. Put him within reach of my sword and he will die.”

  “And the knight?”

  “From his livery, he is Maredudd ap Iago.”

  I nodded. “The one who ambushed Sir Jasper and chased us from Wales.” He nodded. “Then we have scores to settle here.”

  The men with shields were advancing confidently as no arrows had headed their way. My single arrow had warned them of our power, and this was their solution. I saw that ten more men with shields had moved to protect the men at arms and the knight and his squire. I saw, however, that the squire was a little overconfident or perhaps he was tired. Whatever the reason, his own shield dropped a little and he had allowed a gap to the man with the large kite shield, who protected him.

  Looking around I saw that the sun was lower in the sky. It would still be hours until sunset but there was a chance for a cheap victory. I nocked an arrow and, in a swift and practised motion, drew and released. The squire was a little blinded by the sun and his hand was slow to rise. My arrow smacked into his shoulder.

  My other archers seized their opportunity and, as men looked around to see who had been hit, arrows were sent towards them. None were wasted. Every arrow hit. More than half hit shields and three struck helmets. The arrows would have made the head ache and ears ring, but the men were unharmed. Six men, however, were hit by arrows that found flesh. That was six wounded men.

  The Welsh archers responded but we had wooden walls, behind which we could shelter. More importantly, it exposed the archers and, when we rose and sent our arrows towards them, we were rewarded with hits, two of them mortal.

  The knight shouted something, and the shield men and archers began to pull back. It cost them two more men who were struck. One did not move and had an arrow in his head. The green and white flights told me that it was Richard of Culcheth who had killed the Welsh bowman.

  David the Welshman had returne
d in time to send his arrows at the enemy and now, as the Welsh withdrew, he spoke to me. “Captain, Harold of Luston told me that the Welsh surprised them by surrounding the hamlet. He and his family only escaped as their farm is at this end of the hamlet and they were in the fields picking beans. When he heard the shouts and screams, he ran with his family.”

  “Did he know numbers?”

  “He said he saw the Welsh ponies in the distance, and they had riders upon their backs.”

  It was not the answer I needed, but it told me that they were mobile and suggested that there were more men available to this Welsh knight than we could see.

  When the sun set, I knew that they would now wait for dark of night to draw closer. I had two men in three go for food and then to rest. Sarah and the women had baked bread and cooked pottage. We would not starve, and I guessed that the Welsh would retire to Luston to eat whatever they could find.

  I spoke with David, Stephen and Peter of Beverley.

  “We lost no-one, and we hurt them, Captain.”

  “Aye, David, but night will give them a cloak to allow them to come closer and, perhaps, even scale the walls. It is why I have sent two-thirds of the men to rest and to eat. We four may well have to forego such luxuries. I cannot see these Welshmen tarrying long and I can go one night without sleep. I want one of us on each wall tonight. We will know the signs.”

  Stephen de Frankton said, “There is another way, Captain. We could send a few men out tonight and kill their sentries.”

  I shook my head. “That had occurred to me, but we do not have enough numbers to guarantee success and I cannot afford to lose a single archer or man at arms. Peter, have all the spare weapons from the armoury spread out along the walls.”

  “Aye, Captain!”

  I walked the walls and told each of my men what we had planned. I went to the barn and sent a third of the men back to the walls so that another third could eat and have an hour of rest. I ate but I did not taste the food. I put on a smile and exuded confidence for my wife and Sarah.