by Griff Hosker
There was a mist on the river. Here, at Flint, it was wide and slow. I peered along it but detected nothing untoward. All was as it should be.
William of Matlac was in command of the archers and I approached him. He handed me a mug of ale and a hunk of toasted bread. Stale bread always toasted well, and we had butter. As the butter dripped down my chin, I felt replete. We had a good life, even though we camped. “The night was quiet?”
He nodded and then rubbed his chin. “Aye, Captain, quiet enough, but…”
“But what?”
“The horses were restless for a while. I thought nothing of it, but as I did not hear an animal, I walked the outside defences.”
“And?”
“And when I stopped, I heard nothing.”
That was ominous. “Nothing at all?”
“No, Captain. Neither animal nor bird. Bats should still have been around, but none came.”
I nodded. “Rouse the camp quietly and have your archers stand to.”
“Aye, Captain.”
I went to the four men at arms. “My nose itches – wake Sir Walter and have your men stand to.”
“We heard nothing, Captain, and we walked the camp!”
“Yet we should have heard noises. There may be something out there, and I would rather look foolish and have men mock me than one stone damaged!”
“Aye, Captain!”
I went to my tent and saw that all of my men were awake and arming. I strapped on my sword and slipped my daggers into my boots. I chose my war bow and I stuffed four bodkins in my belt. My arrow bag was already full of war arrows.
By the time I had done that, the camp was awake and there was more noise from the builders than I would have liked. I noticed that the tethered horses were becoming skittish too. There was someone out there. We did have the advantage that the ground to the Welsh side of our lines sloped down and any attacker would have to ascend the slope. It was not a steep one, but it would put them at a slight disadvantage.
There was a cry to my fore and a voice shouted, “Alarum! Alarum!”
There was an attack; it was just that we had no idea of the size of it. Was it merely men on foot, seeking to cause mischief, or was it a serious attack that was intended to destroy the workings, labourers and the tools?
I nocked a war arrow and hurried forward to peer down the slope. The archers all knew their business and they had formed a skirmish line at the edge of the camp and on the top of the slope.
A Cheshire archer suddenly fell at my feet with an arrow in his head. I heard the sound of bowstrings as arrows were released. This was the worst kind of archery duel. It was being fought in the darkness, which meant the range was less than forty feet. At that range, a fully drawn arrow could go through a lightly armed archer and we would have only a moment to react to an enemy. The fastest hands would survive.
As if to prove my own point, I noticed a Welsh archer draw back and saw that he was aiming at John of Nottingham. I lifted as I drew and released. The force was so much that when the war arrow hit him in his right shoulder and neck, it knocked him from his feet and the dying man hit others who were ascending.
It bought us time. I stood next to John and found that Jack of Lincoln was to my left. Shadows were ascending and arrows flew from the dark. I aimed at a large shadow just a hundred feet from me. A cry told me that I had hit the man.
Jack suddenly cried out. He had an arrow sticking through his leg.
“Get to a healer!”
Shaking his head, he dropped his bow and took a piece of leather thong. He tied it above the arrow and then snapped off the flight and the head. He dropped them into his satchel. He was an archer through and through.
“Captain!”
John’s voice made me whip my head around. John of Nottingham was nocking an arrow and a Welsh archer had advanced to within twenty feet of us. I had been distracted by Jack’s wound. I released as I dropped to my knee. The Welshman’s arrow struck my brigandine but a combination of my duck, the leather and one of the metal studs, meant it did not penetrate; it bounced up into the morning sky.
I heard Sir Walter shouting, “Form a shield wall and protect the archers!”
Then I detected the sound of mail in the dark as more Welshmen advanced.
Behind me, I heard the labourers as they were organised by their leaders. They had hammers and picks as well as other tools. They would defend themselves.
I nocked another arrow and this time saw four Welshmen with shields advancing up towards our line. Arrows descended from the sky as the Welsh tried blind arrows. Although they could not guarantee a hit, falling from the sky meant that any arrow landing on an unprotected head was likely to be fatal. I did not waste my arrow. I let the four Welshman advance and prayed that the arrows would fall further back than our front line. I could hear the sound of metal on metal as Sir Walter and his men advanced to engage the Welsh. I waited until the four Welshmen were just fifteen feet away and when I saw a face, I sent an arrow into the right eye of one of the two in the middle. Jack had secured his leg and his arrow went through the wooden shield of another Welshman, pinning it to his arm, while John’s arrow had also been driven through a Welshman’s skull. I was the first to nock an arrow as the last Welshmen pulled back his spear to skewer me. It is hard to strike with a spear and not leave a gap close to your shield, unless, of course, you strike over the top of it. He could not do that because I was above him. I saw the arrow had been stopped, not by the man’s mail but the goose feathers. He fell back.
It was time to pay them back and I shouted, “Release arrows into the air!”
Those without a man to the fore sent arrow after arrow up into the air. While the Welsh arrows might be wasted, we could pick up all those that landed in the ground when the battle was over.
I was aiming into the sky when a pair of archers aimed at us. I dispatched one and Robin’s arrow hit the other. I was now out of arrows.
I dropped my bow and drew my sword whilst picking up a Welsh shield. The first hint of dawn was in the sky to the east and I could make out the enemy host. In places, they had gained the high ground. It was here, around myself and my men, that they had made little impression.
“John, take command here.” I knew that he would continue to win the battle of the high ground and I had to see what I could do about our left.
I ran to my left, for I saw fighting behind me. There were dead archers from both sides, but it was their spearmen who had made the most progress, for whilst we had wagonloads of arrows, they were not close to hand, and an archer without an arrow was in the gravest danger, for his short sword was no match for a spear.
“Sir Walter!”
I hurled myself into the left flank of the spearmen. They were slow to react and I managed to hack my sword across the shoulder of the nearest Welshman. As spears were turned in my direction, I blocked with my shield but did not stop. The closer I was to them, the less effective would be their spears.
I heard Captain Matthew shout, “Labourers, fetch arrows for my archers!” He had come of age, for I should have thought of that. Some labourers had no weapons but wished to fight. Fetching arrows would win the battle.
As the weak autumn sun rose, I saw that we had to have been attacked by hundreds of Welshmen. Thankfully, from the weapons I spied on the dead, they were not all warriors.
I had to put all such speculation from my mind, for I was in the midst of a dozen spearmen. Of course, they got in each other’s way, but the edge of a sharpened spear could still be fatal. I blocked with my shield and slashed and hacked with my sword. I kept moving forward and then I heard a roar from behind me. I did not turn. If I was to die, then I would keep fighting those to my fore. If I turned, death was guaranteed!
I dropped to one knee as a spear was driven to where my head had been, and it was an easy kill to ram the sword under the spear and into the chest. As I rose, I smashed the edge of my shield under the chin of a spearman. The light went from his eyes as
he was rendered unconscious.
Then I saw what had caused the roar. Sir Walter had led his metal-clad men at arms to charge into the Welsh spearmen. Our combined attack created a huge hole in their line and, more importantly, we were behind their other men at arms.
Sir Walter grinned. “We will deal with these, Captain; take your archers and flank the others!”
It was a sound plan and I roared, “Men of Cheshire! To me!”
Two dozen archers, including Matthew of Tarporley, ran to my side and I saw that they had arrows bags which were full.
“We will flank those men who are attacking our centre!”
The duel between my archers, the men of Cheshire and their Welsh counterparts was fierce, but my archers were, as yet, undiscovered, for we had destroyed the Welsh on this side and were approaching from their right side.
“Release.” The twenty-four arrows struck almost as one, but I had already ordered a second and then a third set.
The wall of goose feathered ash slammed into the sides of the Welsh archers. Our war arrows struck them as they pulled back on their own bowstrings. Three flights destroyed them, and my archers needed no encouragement. They hurtled down the slope to get at the remaining enemy. The Welsh ran, and those that fell were shown no mercy. By the time we had reached the bottom of the slope, only the dead remained.
Sir Walter was young, but he was a quick learner and, after mounting his men at arms, they pursued the Welsh back up the Clwydan Mountains. His journey alongside me had borne fruit.
We cleared the battlefield. Their wounded had their throats cut, for we had no means to heal them. There were no prisoners taken but the dead were stripped of all that was of value. We collected every unbroken arrow and the heads and goose feathers from the damaged ones.
By the time it was noon, Sir Walter returned, driving twenty captured ponies and without any empty saddles. The Welsh had lost more than sixty bowmen as well as forty spears and swordsmen. Twelve Welsh men at arms had perished.
We had not escaped without losses. Twenty archers were slain as well as thirty-five labourers. Fortunately, none of those who were slain were specialists. They could be replaced. It was not only Jack who was wounded but also John of Nottingham, and in John’s case, the wound was to his right shoulder. A plunging arrow meant he would never draw a bow again. He had been growing old and his time as an archer might have been drawing to a close, but none of us wished that fate on one of the most loyal archers who had ever served with me. Tom, Alan and Will Yew Tree suffered cuts, but they would heal. We had earned our pay!
Chapter 12
The Earl of Warwick arrived the next morning, not long before noon. We had sent a rider to tell him of the battle. We had lost one whole day of building and managed little more on the day he arrived. He walked the battlefield with his nephew and me. The ash from the Welsh bodies still smoked and was the clearest evidence of the fight that had taken place.
“Do we know where they were from?”
The question was addressed to me. “I think, my lord, that they are the men of the Clwyd Valley, but we saw no evidence of a knight with them. They relied on sheer weight of numbers.”
He nodded. “It is as King Edward and I discussed. They are not yet ready to meet us in battle. The king will need you and your archers come the summer, Captain Warbow.”
Sir Walter said, “You are right, uncle. I thought that horsemen could win this war alone, but I have seen myself the skill of the archer both English and Welsh. I will not underestimate them again.”
I pointed to the workers. “One thing has resulted in a benefit for us. The workmen, once they get back into the swing, will have greater urgency. They need the walls to be erected.”
The Earl nodded. “And when they have built this one, then they will move on to Rhuddlan and Rhuthun! We shall be like the sea and all will be swamped before us.”
We turned to view the labourers as they repaired the damage done to their work and began to dig more holes for foundations.
“You remember, my lord, that soon my men’s contract will end. Captain Matthew is happy to command the archers and I believe that we have torn the heart from the Welsh. They may recover, but not before the next year.” As if to prove my point, I stamped the ground. “Soon frosts will come, and travel will be limited. Your master-builder promises that there will be a wall around the castle by Christmas, and by Easter you will have the lower walls built. The Welsh have gambled, and they have lost.”
“Just so. We shall miss you. I will send your payment the day before you are due to leave.”
I could not help smiling, for this guaranteed that he would be given more days than he paid for. It would take three days to return to Yarpole and our pay was supposed to be from doorstep to doorstep. I would not complain, for we had taken more in treasure from the dead Welshmen than we had been paid. Along with the ponies, arrows and weapons, we had done well.
We probably worked more days than we needed to, but we had all grown close to the archers, men at arms and even the labourers. They felt like a family; a different one, but a family nonetheless.
We were paid and took our coin the sixty-odd miles to Yarpole. Winter was about to descend. We could travel no faster, for although the wounded men had begun to heal, it would not do to rush and risk undoing all of the work done by the healers.
We stayed in religious houses, for I still had my parchment from King Edward. It meant we were fed well and our horses cared for.
I sent Tom ahead to warn our families of our imminent arrival. The result was that everyone from the manor was there to greet us as we rode in through the gates as the afternoon sun set in the west. I saw that my wife had not given birth yet and Hamo was toddling about with more confidence than when I had left. I had missed so much.
I dismounted and James led Eleanor away. I picked up Hamo and said, “Who is this little warrior who has grown so much since I last saw him?”
He grinned and hugged me. He said something to me, but I confess that my ear was no longer attuned to the toddler’s words.
Mary said, when she saw the puzzlement on my face, “He says he wants to be a warrior like you!”
I squeezed him. “First I shall be a father and then I will teach you.” Still holding him, I put my arm around Mary. “I feared I had missed the birth.”
“No, your child is obedient even in the womb and awaits you, but another month may have seen you arrive too late!”
It was a joyous reunion, for we had lost no one and even the wife of John of Nottingham was just pleased that her husband was alive and would go to war no more. He had sons to take his place.
I do not even remember what we ate, except that no lord ever ate finer, and I laughed so much that I thought my sides would split. Everything was perfect and made the time spent apart bearable!
When all had departed and Hamo had fallen asleep at the table, we took him to bed and then I lay down with my wife. We were happy, and yet she wept. It was strange, but the tears were not of sadness but joy. I felt like crying too but I was a warrior. We had been apart for the longest time since we had met, and I did not like it. Perhaps I would tell the king to find another captain of archers.
“You are home now?”
“The king will not need me until the spring and even by then, who knows. Perhaps the Welsh prince will see the folly of fighting such a powerful king as King Edward.”
She snuggled into me. “You were lucky, husband. The wives and I prayed each day, and our prayers were answered, for none died.”
“And in that the Good Lord watched over us. He must be on the side of King Edward.” I thought back to the fearful fight in the night. When I had killed that archer, his arrow might so easily have split my skull. Who determined the outcome of such fights? He was as good as I was, and yet I had survived. I had my answer. I had to have been better or he would now have my sword and I would be dead. Of course, I could not rely on such an advantage forever. One day my skills would wane and, i
n that split second, I might be the one to be brought home, draped over a horse. I would not take life for granted.
I rose slightly later than when on campaign and that was the fault of my wife and unborn child. As she lay in my arms and I considered rising, my hand touched her belly and the bairn kicked. I could not move. This was another child of mine and I lay there, stroking her until the kicking stopped. I still did not rise but kissed her sleeping head and lay with her warm breath wafting across my face.
When I finally slipped my arm from beneath her, I went to the chamber next to ours where Hamo slept still. I would not disturb him.
Sarah and her women were in the kitchen, busy preparing food. Warriors were home and those who were not married and lived in my warrior hall would be hungry.
When we had been at the castle workings, we had not starved, but we had eaten quickly and consumed whatever was available. Sarah had little experience of a war camp, but she knew how to feed men and our manor was luckier than most. We had fowl, which produced eggs every day. We cured our own hams so that we always had plenty of meat and we had bread ovens, which could give my men fresh bread every day. Those in the village would bring their dough to cook in our ovens.
The manor was now, truly, the centre of the village. I walked through the kitchen, greeting all who were there and then, wrapping myself in the cloak I had hung over the peg on the back door, went out into the cold.
There was an early morning mist. We did not keep the gates manned but they were barred at night. We had dogs to warn us of danger. I climbed the ladder to the fighting platform. My land was still and, more importantly, seemed at peace. When we had travelled home, we had seen that the Welsh had withdrawn to their lands and homes. The raids begun by Dafydd ap Gruffydd had ceased when we had started work on the castle. It was strange, but the hostilities brought to an end the petty raiding. It was as if both sides were preparing for war.
I walked my walls and descended at the front gate before returning to the hall. In my warrior hall, I heard the noise of conversation and saw some of Sarah’s women carrying wooden platters laden with food. They were hurrying, for they did not wish the hot food to cool too much.