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

by Griff Hosker

  My men dismounted and two of them held the horses. The others began to send arrows into the sides of men, and then David the Welshman had his archers send their arrows into the backs of them too.

  I chose a Mongol bodkin arrow. I only had four of them. From the back of Eleanor, I sent it into the left shoulder of a man at arms. I must have hit something vital, for blood spurted and he fell from his horse.

  Stephen de Frankton had not dismounted, and he charged towards the Welsh. I could not let him go alone and I dug my heels into Eleanor’s side. I managed to send one arrow as I galloped. It would have disappointed Ahmed, but I was pleased, for it pinned a Welsh light horseman’s leg to his saddle and his horse.

  As Stephen sliced his sword through the shoulder of a Welsh horseman, a horn sounded, and the Welsh fled. The fight was over almost as soon as it had begun. The only two on our side who were mounted were Stephen and me. A pursuit was unnecessary and reckless. Now that I had seen the road at close hand, I could offer better advice to Matthew.

  “If there are prisoners, then bring them to me. See to our wounded and any Welsh wounded who might live. Give those too badly hurt a warrior’s death. Fetch the horses forward.”

  As I turned, I saw that I had not lost a single Yarpole man, but there were at least two dead men of Cheshire. Matthew looked embarrassed more than anything when he finally led his men to meet me. This was neither the time nor the place to dissect what might have been a disaster.

  “Take the horses and weapons back to Flint. I will ride with the prisoners to Chester. Stephen, David, Tom and Martin, come with me!”

  “Captain, I …”

  “I blame myself, Matthew, for I am so used to fighting alongside my own men that often I do not realise that not all are trained the same way. I will return before dawn. Until then, you command!”

  Chapter 11

  We had the prisoners tethered to one another and, with Tom leading, Martin followed up with a spear taken from a dead man at arms to encourage them. It was just ten miles to our camp, where we would stop on the way to Chester, but we did not relent, and our horses kept such a steady speed that there was little likelihood of the prisoners being able to escape.

  Stephen said, “Captain, do not be so hard on Matthew. His men are good, and he leads them well.” I turned and stared at him as though he was a fool. “The trouble is, Captain, that your men all meet your high standards but not everyone has those standards. I have fought with other lords and captains. You have the drive and wish to be the best but, I confess, I know not why. We both know that lords will discard you when you are old, wounded or too expensive. You need not jump every time that King Edward snaps a command.” I gave him one of my harsh stares. He smiled. “The trouble is, Captain, that I know your heart and you are a good man. I know I can say what I say for that reason. You might shout at me and censure me, but you will hear my words and you will reflect on them.” He leaned over. “You do not have to try too hard; I listen at table and in the camp. All the lords, and that includes King Edward, value you, more than you can know. You could be paid more coin and receive more honours if you but asked for them!”

  I heard his words and, I suppose, I knew that he was right. What was it deep within me that made me do what I did? “I need no more than I have, and I am content!”

  He nodded. “Perhaps that is why men do what they do for you. They know your heart and cannot help but follow you.” He laughed. “Listen to me! I came to you as the man who would slay Prince Llywelyn, and now, I am as much your man as John of Nottingham!”

  We rode in silence. I found myself riding a little faster until I realised that I could hear the panting of the Welsh captives and I slowed. What had made me what I was? I knew I had changed but thought that was down to Mary and Hamo; they had nothing to do with my warrior life.

  We crossed the bridge at Chester, and I was recognised by the sentries, who smiled at the eight panting prisoners. We headed into the city and the castle. We left the prisoners with the sergeant of the guard and while Stephen, Tom and Martin went to find an alehouse and food, I sought the earl. He was eating but it was just with his senior men. He waved the steward to fetch a seat and then food.

  “How goes it?”

  I told him of the Welsh patrols and how we had dealt with them.

  He seemed pleased despite the losses that we had suffered. “I can see why King Edward has such faith in you. I confess that in the Holy Land I thought you had been lucky. Now I see that you are skilled. What do you need, Captain Warbow?”

  “We can hold their scouts and archers, but if the Welsh bring a determined army and attack using spearmen and archers, then we might lose.”

  He laughed. “I doubt that, for you would find some way to win, but let us not try to use all of your skills up so quickly. I will send Sir Walter de Beauchamp and forty men at arms on the morrow. He is keen to impress King Edward and, between you and I, my nephew is a little too enthusiastic for my table!”

  I knew the knight to whom he referred. He was a young knight who was using some of the items on the table to illustrate a point. “You will need to tell him, my lord, that we camp. There will be neither table nor fine food.”

  The Earl of Warwick laughed. “My nephew will not mind; he sees himself as the reincarnation of the Spanish knight El Cid!” I nodded, for I had heard of the legend from Mary. “He has seen just twenty summers, and yet he reads as though books are food, and he strives to be the best knight that he can be.”

  I heard the pride in his voice, and I knew that I would have to take care that no harm came to the young man, for the Earl of Warwick and his family were powerful. “Then I will find my men and leave.”

  “No, Captain, you will eat with me and you can tell my knights of how you saved Lord Edward from the assassin. They would know the true story.”

  I had no choice and, if the truth be told, I was hungry. I told them a version of the truth, but I gave more credit to Lord Edward for his actions. It seemed to satisfy them and when I had gorged myself, I sought my men.

  It was dark as we headed back to Flint, but we had all eaten well and Stephen had even paid for a doxy. I would speak with Matthew in the morning. There seemed little point in disturbing my good humour!

  The next day, my captain of Cheshire archers was waiting to see me when I stepped from my tent. “Captain, I am sorry I have let you down. Your name is held in such high esteem that I would do nothing to jeopardise your good opinion of me.”

  I had thought about this on the way home. “Then do not try so hard.”

  “What?”

  “If I were not here, then how would you have ambushed those Welshmen?”

  “I would have hidden men on both sides with a few scouts ahead of us to warn us of danger and, when the first Welshman passed, had my last archer begin the attack!”

  “And why did you not do that?”

  “I thought to let you garner all the glory for the attack!”

  I laughed. “By all that is holy! I care nothing for glory! I wish to win and leave the battlefield with as few dead friends left upon it as possible. Evesham was a harsh lesson! You are a good archer and a good leader, Matthew. Trust to your instincts!”

  He looked at me and I saw the scales fall from his eyes. “Truly?”

  “Truly! When my contract is up, I shall go home, and I am more than happy to recommend you lead the archers in my absence.”

  He stood a little straighter. “Then I will try to live up to your expectations.”

  “And today we have a knight with his men at arms come to help us, so let us not make any mistakes while he is here!”

  Sir Walter de Beauchamp arrived not long after dawn. That showed me he was keen and he realised the dangers of travelling unknown roads in the dark. Unusually, he also spoke to me with greater respect than I was used to from young knights. Normally, they looked down on archers until they had learned their worth in battle. Sir Walter had yet to fight in a battle, and yet he asked me al
l the right questions.

  “I realise that you have your own plans, Captain Gerald, but it would help me if you could show me the Clwyd Valley. If I am to do as my uncle wishes and defend the castle workings, then I ought to see the lie of the land.”

  “Very good, my lord. Stephen, would you ride with David the Welshman and patrol the fort today? I will ride with Sir Walter and show him the valley.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Stephen grinned. “I have no doubt that your archers will try to test my skills!”

  Sir Walter brought just his squire, John, with us, and that showed sense in one so young. He had brought his men to guard the camp and they would do that.

  I took with us my Mongol bow and I saw the knight looking at it as we headed to Dyserth. I would end our ride at the site of the skirmish we had fought. As we rode towards the coast, he looked around and made comments about the land, which showed he was perceptive and was here to do what he had been tasked by his uncle.

  When we reached the tiny hamlet of Dyserth and he saw the wrecked remains of the castle King Henry had been building, he dismounted and, while his squire held our horses, walked with me amongst the ruined fortifications. He nodded towards the sea. “I can see why this was abandoned. It was simply too far from the sea, Captain, but what a shame that it had to be so. Were you here?”

  I shook my head. “No, my lord.”

  “I have little doubt that men died and it was unnecessary. The Welsh could be controlled by a castle, but not here.”

  We mounted our horses. “I think, my lord, that King Henry chose this as a site as the Welsh had already done work to make it defensible. We shall see, when we climb the Clwydan Mountains, many such sites, but the Welsh do not have castles as we do. They are learning but, in the past, they just built hill forts where they would shelter until an enemy left them. It worked for almost a thousand years, but I think that King Edward will end that.”

  As we began the climb, I saw him looking around. “Captain, where is the road?”

  I pointed to the narrow track upon which we rode. “This is it. A road is needed when you use wagons. The Welsh rarely use anything bigger than a pony.”

  He laughed. “And if I attempted this alone, then my squire and I might well be lost.”

  “I grew up around here, my lord. There are few Englishmen who know the land as I do.”

  “Then you are Welsh?”

  “No, lord. I was born in the land controlled by an English knight, and my father served him. I was born in Wales, but I am English.”

  He nodded towards my bow. “When I read of the exploits of Don Rodrigo de Vivar, I came across accounts of Muslim horse archers. Is that one of their bows?”

  I shook my head. “The Seljuk Turks use a similar bow but this one is Mongol. Both nations use them from the backs of horses.”

  “Can you use it thus?”

  I shook my head. “After a fashion, but the man who gave it to me would be embarrassed by my attempts. I am much more accurate with the earth beneath my feet and my war bow.”

  “After which you are named.” I nodded. “It is a pity we cannot train our own archers to fight from the backs of horses, for then we would be unbeatable.”

  “It would be useful, lord, but it is an idle fancy, for we cannot make these bows and the men who use them are part horse. I rode with the Mongols and they do not need to use their hands to ride. But you are, with respect, my lord, wrong; no army is unbeatable. The Mongols did not defeat the Turk but then the Turk was beaten by King Richard. It is a combination of a good leader and the best of men that determines victory.”

  We had reached one of the highest points in the range, Moel Famau. We reined in. There was a hill fort at the summit, but it was smaller than Moel Arthur.

  I swept my hand around me. “The Clwyd Valley, lord.” I pointed to the fort of Moel Arthur. My men were hidden. “Stephen de Frankton and my archers are there.”

  “I cannot see them!”

  I laughed. “And I would be most unhappy if you could, my lord.” I looked up at the sky and saw it was approaching noon. “Come, my lord. We should be in time for some food!”

  I watched the knight and his squire as they tried to pick out my men. They would not be able to, for the ramparts of the old hill fort afforded cover. We would see them but only when we were right on top of them.

  I led us around to approach the fort from the Flint side. Will Yew Tree rose like a wraith from a rock and smiled when the squire jumped and made his horse rear.

  “Any sign of the Welsh today, Will?”

  He shook his head. “No, Captain; I think we burned their fingers the other day. There is food ready.”

  “I know, I can smell it cooking.”

  Sir Walter said, “I saw no smoke, nor did I smell the fire.”

  “My men used dry kindling and the wind is blowing the smell east, but I detected it. A word of advice, my lord – when you ride in unknown land, always take an archer or two with you as a scout. They have all grown up in woods and hunting.”

  “I have hunted!”

  “With respect, my lord, you went into woods to hunt, but it was men like me who found the game and drove it towards your spears and arrows.”

  I saw him thinking about that and he nodded. “Aye, you are right. This is an education, archer.”

  My men had set snares and traps. The rabbits would be tasty.

  I confirmed what Will had told me and I said, “I think, David, that tomorrow we can use just two men to watch here. The next time they come, it will be with a larger army to try to destroy the workings.”

  “You are sure, Captain?” I heard the eagerness in the knight’s voice.

  “Not certain, my lord, but I have met this Welsh prince and he is not one to take the building of a castle in Gwynedd without a fight. I think you and your men will get the opportunity to test your mettle against the Welsh, but I doubt that it will be Llywelyn himself. Of course, I may be wrong, in which case you and your men at arms will suffer the discomfort of a camp in a Welsh winter!”

  “Captain, my uncle said that you had forgotten more about war than most men learn. I am happy to be your student!”

  The site of the skirmish was sobering for the young knight. Our dead had been buried in shallow graves, but the arrows in the trunks of trees and the broken hafts of spears told their own story. I said nothing, for this was a lesson he needed to learn himself.

  I watched him as he looked at the bloody ground and the broken shafts of spears and arrows. He turned to me and looked at my green clothes. His own surcoat, which covered his mail hauberk, was brightly coloured. The six yellow crosslets and yellow bar on the orange background lit up the gloomy trail like a brand in a castle passage.

  “If you attacked an enemy then they would be easily seen but they would have no idea of where you were.”

  I nodded. “You can see the four archers who came to speak with us. There are another two somewhere but I cannot see them. The first you would know of an attack was when a goose feathered shaft suddenly sprouted from your chest!”

  He looked at the hauberk’s links, which were visible through the slit in his surcoat. “I have the best mail that money can buy!”

  I drew a bodkin arrow from my arrow bag and placed the tip in one of the mail links. “At anything fewer than two hundred paces, most bowmen can drive this arrow through these links, your gambeson, undershirt, and into your flesh. I have seen some penetrate helmets, too, but at closer range.”

  “I need to have archers.”

  “Or light horsemen who can close with archers and are cheaper than knights or men at arms!”

  He continued to question me as we rode back. He was right. He was attending school and that school was one of survival. He had read of war and he had studied battles. He was now seeing the reality of it.

  We had three days of peace and I reduced the watchers to two at each of the three key areas. I had the rest of the archers fortify our camp by deepening the ditch and maki
ng an abatis of last autumn’s brambles.

  We fashioned a hurdle into a gate so that, at night, we were secure. I did not tell Sir Walter to do the same, but he did so anyway. He was a quick learner. He saw that we kept our horses close to us. It made for a more pungent camp and there was noise, but when I explained that the horses were as valuable to the Welsh as the man who rode the beast, he understood. We were a highly mobile army!

  I also reduced the number of watchers to increase the number of night guards. The workforce for the castle had swollen to over a thousand now. A night-time attack would result in many deaths unless we were vigilant.

  Sir Walter was an unusual knight, for he was happy to talk with any who might help him to be a better soldier and, as a result, was very popular. He even spoke to the castle builders, for he was keen to learn.

  He reminded me of Sir John Malton, and I hoped that he would not change as Sir John had. Sir John was still one of the best knights I knew, but the Holy Land had shown that he had political aspirations. I thought that they were unnecessary, but then, I would never be a knight, and the best that I could hope for was to remain a gentleman.

  There was a pleasant atmosphere in the camp, but I was counting down the days I had left to serve. I was confident that Sir Walter had learned enough to withstand any winter attack, for he and Matthew of Tarporley got on well and I had heeded Stephen’s words. I had been exacting too high a standard.

  Even when I was not on watch, I was always awake before dawn. It was just habit, and my body seemed to have a will of its own. When I was at home with Mary, I often slipped from our bed to make water and to begin my work for the day.

  So it was that I woke and was instantly awake. I rose and, after leaving the tent, sniffed the air. The wind was from the east and was chilly, having crossed the Dee. I was an old campaigner, and I walked the half-mile to the river to make water. I nodded to the sentries who were seated around a fire, which had been kept burning all night. All told, twenty men were guarding the camp each night. Sixteen were archers and the rest men at arms. Dotted along the Welsh side of the camp, they would give us warning of an attack.