by Griff Hosker
Sarah shook her head. “My son, James, has told me the numbers you face, Captain. This will be a hard fight. You make sure you eat properly and do not fear for your lady. She will be protected by us!” She took, from beneath her voluminous dress, the carving knife she used to butcher meat. A Welshman who took her on would be lucky not to lose a limb or worse!
The food, the smiles from Hamo and Mary, forced in the case of my wife, refreshed me as much as a night in a goose feather bed, and I returned to the walls. I went to the barn wall, for it was the closest to the Welsh and the one I thought they would use.
The fighting platform seemed empty with only a third of the men remaining. Alan and Robin were the nearest to me and Tom was in the wooden tower. We did not speak, for that would give away our position. With our hoods over our heads, our faces were shielded, and so long as we did not move, we would be invisible. We stood protected by the wooden crenulations and looked out at an angle. There were enough of us so that we could see the whole of the ground before us.
I think I was the first to spot the moving shadows but Alan, with his hunter’s eyes and senses, was not far behind. We each tapped the men close to us and I sent Jack’s son Wilfred to fetch more men to our wall. I was desperate to visit the other walls and see how they fared, but I had to trust Peter, Stephen and David.
There was little point in wasting an arrow, and so I picked up a couple of the darts the blacksmith had made. With a lead-weighted end and thrown at close range, they could be deadly.
Tom nocked an arrow. The shadows skittered across the ground. The Welsh would have to negotiate the corpses which lay where they had fallen. If they had been my men, I would have made some attempt to recover them for the sake of the morale of the remaining men, but Lord Maredudd seemed not to care.
Tom must have had good eyesight, for he released an arrow that brought forth a cry as it struck a man. Realising that they had been seen, the shadows stopped the slow, creeping motion and ran towards the ditch.
My archers close by me sent their arrows into the white faces. I saw a face on the other side of the ditch. He had an arrow nocked but I hurled my dart. He was not expecting it. A bow would make a thrumming noise when released. The dart was silent, and it struck his right hand before being deflected, by his reactive jerk, into his eye.
Men were still joining us and some of the Welshmen jumped into the ditch. Their screams told me that they had found the sharpened stakes. I threw a second dart into the back of a wounded man who was trying to climb out. There could be no mercy for these men. It struck his back and he fell backwards to be impaled upon our stakes. Seeing the body deterred the others, who turned and ran.
I could hear fighting on the other walls and now that we had beaten off this attack, I said, “Alan, take charge here while I see how the others fare.” I grabbed my bow and ran.
Our fighting platform was not continuous. We had deliberately ended it at each building so that if one section of the wall was lost, we could defend the others. I descended the ladder and ran to the main gate. I climbed up and saw that we had lost men. Ned, the miller’s son, lay with an arrow in his head. They had not had time to clear away the bodies from this part of the wall.
I looked out and saw that there were more men here, for the houses were a little closer to our walls and had allowed the Welsh to get a little nearer before our bows could be used. The battle was in the balance, but more of those who had been resting were now joining Peter and his men.
I nocked an arrow and sent it into the shoulder of an archer who was aiming at one of my men in the two wooden towers. Our extra numbers swung the battle in our favour and, as with the south wall, the Welsh fell back.
I checked the other two walls and discovered that they had beaten off their attackers too, but we had injuries. All of my archers survived unhurt, but the village had wounded men. Father Paul tended to them.
Dawn brought the grisly sight of the Welsh dead in the ditches and beyond. In all, we had slain eighteen men, and with more of them wounded, I wondered if that might discourage them.
We ate on the fighting platform. The little rest my people had enjoyed was all that they would get.
I saw no movement towards Luston, and I wondered if they had departed. A cry from the main gate told me that they had not.
I ran and climbed the ladder. Rhodri ap Rhodri and Lord Maredudd were approaching. They were bareheaded and had their hands open. They wished to speak.
I did not let them speak first; I simply said, “If you have come to surrender, then know that there must be reparations for those whose property you took.”
That made both men colour, and Lord Maredudd said, “We have come to demand your surrender.”
I pointed to the bodies. Some had fouled themselves in death and begun to stink. “That is the price you will pay for attack!”
Rhodri turned and whistled. Two hundred paces away, four bound men were dragged out by Welshmen and forced to kneel.
Lord Maredudd said, “Unless you surrender, we will execute these men.”
I heard Harold of Luston shout, “You bastard!”
I shook my head. “If you do that, I will see you hanged, but I will not accede to your demands, for you would do the same to us.”
Lord Maredudd raised his arm and I wondered if he would really do it.
Then Father Paul said, “I am a witness to this crime, Lord Maredudd. It is murder, plain and simple!”
I saw hesitation and then Rhodri said, “I have a solution, Captain Gerald Warbow. Come out of your walls and fight me for them. If you win, they will be handed over to you, and if I win, they will die! We have more captives. Luston was not the first place we raided. Perhaps you would like to see your women despoiled?”
Stephen de Frankton shouted, “Fight me, you butcher!”
The Welshman laughed. “I will get to you in time. First I kill Warbow and send a message to Longshanks that he does not rule here!”
Stephen turned to me. “You cannot do this, Captain. He is a trained man at arms and—”
“And I am just an archer. I know, but know that I have done this before, and it is my Christian duty to try to save them.”
Will Yew Tree was close by and he said, “I will have an arrow nocked, Captain, in case of treachery!”
I shouted down, “Pull your men back to the houses, and that includes you, Maredudd, for I trust you least of all! Have the rest of your captives brought out where we can see them!”
“I am Lord Maredudd – show me respect!”
“I will show respect when you have earned it, but know that I have an arrow with your name upon it, and when your snake here lies dead, then I will hunt you down. Wales is not big enough for you to hide!”
I descended. At the foot of the ladder, I handed my bow to Robin.
Stephen said, “Do you wish a shield, Captain?”
I shook my head. “Fetch me a hand axe that is sharp.” I had a dagger in each buskin and my sword was a good one. Beneath my brigandine, I wore a padded gambeson. I would try to use speed. I took off my helmet. I wanted to have good vision. “Have they cleared the area?”
Will shouted, “Aye, Captain, and I think you have their lord worried. He is mounted on his horse. The captives are there. He has twelve of them. The others are women and children. They are closely guarded.”
Stephen handed me an axe and I said, “If I fall then you command.”
“And if you fall then not a Welshman shall live.”
“Open the gates.”
As I stepped out of the gates, I realised that I had not said goodbye to Mary nor offered an explanation. I hoped that she understood. I was not sure that I did. The villagers were not even mine, but if I did not try to protect them then who would?
I had to put such thoughts from my head as I saw the Welshman facing me. He wore a helmet and, like me, he had a brigandine, but he also had a shield. I had chosen an axe and though I was unfamiliar with its use, I could use either hand, and two wea
pons might be better than one.
He strode towards me eagerly and I deliberately slowed so that he might think I feared him. I did not. I would also let him have the first blow, for I wanted him tired. He might have more skill, but I was an archer and could use my arms for longer periods than he.
“Englishman, I will hack your flesh from your body, piece by piece. You slew my brother at the mine, and I will have vengeance.”
I said nothing, for I was weighing him up and seeing where I could gain an advantage. The sun was behind me and it had yet to rise above the hall. When it did, then he would have light in his eyes. I could not allow him to turn me.
He took my silence and slow approach for fear, and he moved quickly for a big man. He was using his shield and his sword together so that he punched with his shield while he slashed with his sword. It might have mesmerised another but not me.
I spun on my right leg so that his shield and his sword struck fresh air and as I spun around his back, I hacked the axe into the rear of his brigandine. The metal studs prevented it from cutting too deeply but I hurt him. I kept spinning until I was back in my first position. From the walls came a cheer. I had not wounded him, but I had injured his pride, for I had struck the first blow and he was angry. Angry men do not fight well. Archers always fight cold because we are fighting at a distance. I used that coldness to keep me calm.
“Trickster! Stand still!”
He would not try that again, and he came more steadily and this time measured his approach, keeping his shield up for protection. He now knew that I could use my left hand. I wanted him to think that I did not know how to use my sword and when he swung his own at my head, I did not block it with my sword but my axe. I did not want to blunt my weapon. He was strong but an archer has a left hand as strong as his right. Sparks flew as the sword struck the axe head and the edge of the blade came perilously close to my head.
As he pulled back his sword, I punched the head of my axe up under his chin. The crack on his mail coif sounded loud to me and when he reeled, I knew that I had hurt him. I went on the offensive and I hacked at his shield with my axe. It was a short axe, but it had a head that was very heavy in proportion to its size, and I cracked his shield.
I still had the east behind me, and I used it to my advantage. I raised the sword as though I was going to strike down and, when he raised his sword to block the blow, the sun caught the two blades and blinded him. I swung the axe, and he must have sensed it, for he brought his shield around to block it, however, I was not aiming at his shield but his thighs. The mail skirt he wore protected only his groin and the axe head drew blood.
His reactions were fast, and he almost caught me out. His sword came down towards my shoulder, but I managed to block it, not with the edge of my sword but the crosspiece of the hilt. He tried to use raw strength to force the sword towards my unprotected neck, but he was bleeding, and I was an archer. As I pulled back my left arm, he lifted his shield to block the blow and I rammed my right knee between his legs. I hurt him and I saw him struggling for breath.
I had to end this before my luck ran out, and I pulled back my right arm and rammed my sword through his screaming mouth. The blade came out of the back of his skull and when I ripped it to the right, I tore out half of his face. He dropped to his knees and then rolled over. He was dead.
I saw Lord Maredudd raise his sword, but from behind me I heard David the Welshman shout, “Loose!” and arrows flew towards the Welshmen whose spears and swords were ready to end the lives of the captives.
I lifted my sword and ran towards them. From behind me, I heard a roar as Yarpole manor emptied and every man and boy who could hold a weapon raced out. Lord Maredudd’s men still outnumbered us, but our arrows had hurt the men with the spears, and the sight of our charge made Lord Maredudd turn and flee.
The Welsh had seen their champion die and now they were threatened too. They ran. Those who could mounted ponies and headed west. My men and the villagers were not in a merciful mood and any they caught, they butchered.
The fight had taken it out of me, and I waited with the captives as Stephen de Frankton led my men on a day-long chase. They returned at dark with four ponies laden with weapons. The Battle of Yarpole was over, but not its repercussions.
Chapter 8
Of course, Baron Mortimer, when we told him, was outraged. It was a pity his outrage had not stretched to sending men to check on our safety. My gain was the hamlet of Luston. The village became part of my land. It was a double-edged sword, for while I received some of their taxes and could levy their men, I was responsible for their protection. My wife pointed out that I was the kind of man who would protect them in any case and the small reward was the least I could expect.
As I led my men back to Yarpole, I learned about the flights of arrows that had turned the tide in our favour.
David the Welshman nodded towards Stephen de Frankton. “It was Stephen’s idea, Captain. He asked if we could send arrows accurately over the captives’ heads, and I said we could but not the farmers. Instead, I ordered the farmers to send their arrows to hit behind the houses, for I knew that men would shelter there, and then we hit the men with the spears. It was Harold of Luston who opened the gate and led the folk out to kill the last of the Welsh. One of the captives was his sister. We could not stop them.”
It had been a mixture of luck and anger that had won the battle for us. If the Welsh had been led by a braver warrior then it might have gone differently. I had killed the real leader and I knew that the combat could also have gone in a different direction, but I had angered him and that had swung the fight in my favour.
What the baron did do was to have his men at arms patrol the roads of the county, and he wrote to King Edward to inform him of the depredations of the Welsh, both of which helped us.
It was that letter that yielded results, although they were not the results that I wished for. I was summoned to London to speak with King Edward. I had not seen him since the day he had learned he was king. I thought, perhaps, that he had forgotten me, and that did not displease me.
It was good weather when I left but I only took Tom and Martin with me. I left the rest to guard my home. We had learned from the attacks, and the men I left would continue to improve the defences. We would add more of the wooden towers. Some of the houses had been badly damaged, and they would be rebuilt, but in a different place to make our defence stronger.
I resented being summoned to London and I wondered why I had been. Baron Mortimer would have been able to deliver the same news as I! I determined to get there as soon as I could and return quickly.
The journey to Windsor was one hundred and twenty miles. We took spare horses and made the castle in three days. One of the reasons for taking just a couple of men was that I knew the castle would be filled. King Edward and his court required many servants. While I was found a small chamber in the castle, Tom and Martin had to make do with the stable.
Despite the urgency of the letter, I was kept waiting while King Edward dealt with affairs of state.
It was Queen Eleanor who saw me first. “Gerald Warbow! What a delightful surprise. What drags you here from your home?”
I bowed and kissed the back of her proffered hand. The fact that she had offered it showed my status to the waiting guards. None of them knew me and I had noticed their sneering and haughty glances. The proffered hand changed all of that.
“The king, Queen Eleanor, has sent for me.”
She frowned and then nodded. “And he is within, speaking with his counsellors. It was ever thus, Gerald. How is Mary?”
I was on more comfortable ground, for I would not have to criticise the king and, with waiting guards who would report every word to him, domestic matters were a better choice. “We are wed, and we have a son, Hamo. He was born on Christmas Day!”
Her joy was genuine, and she clapped her hands. “How propitious! I am pleased, for I know how much she wished to be married to you. They are both well?”
“They are.” I hesitated and then decided to tell her. “My hall was attacked by the Welsh, but we survived intact.”
She became serious. “We had heard that there was trouble in the Marches but did not know that there was bloodshed.”
“The next hamlet to mine was burned to the ground. We have rebuilt it.”
She nodded. “I will find time to speak with you before you leave. I expect you will wish to return to the bosom of your family as soon as possible.”
I smiled. “I would need a horse with wings to return as swiftly as I wish!”
“Just so.” She shook her head and looked about to say something and then thought better. This was not the royal apartments in Acre, where she knew and trusted all those around her. This was England and the very walls had ears. Where she might have spoken in confidence to me now, she could not.
I was left alone again to wait without the doors. The difference was that the sentries spoke to me and did so deferentially. I might have been dressed as some common archer but the queen herself had spoken with me. I found it strange, for I was still the same man who had entered!
Eventually, the doors opened, and a servant dressed in the king’s livery emerged. “Yes?”
“I am Captain Gerald Warbow of Yarpole, and I was sent for by King Edward.”
He scanned the document he had before him and said arrogantly, “You were due here two days since.”
I might hold my tongue before one of my betters, but this was a clerk and a weasel-faced one at that. “And I am here now and, having waited without for longer than I ought, perhaps you should announce me so that the king can tell me why he has summoned me!”
The smirk from the two sentries told me that the pompous little man was not liked. He coloured and, turning, said, “Captain Gerald Warbow of Yarpole!”
I stepped into a court filled with nobles as well as clerks and clerics. The king rose from his throne and his long legs strode over to me.