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

by Griff Hosker

  I entered my hall and I could hear, up the stairs, the sound of Hamo and his mother. This would be a lazy and leisurely day. Sitting down at the table, I began to run through the tasks that needed to be done before Christmas. We had the animals to cull. There had been too few men left on the manor to do the job properly. The older animals had been partly reprieved. The pigs had been turned out to graze the stubble, and so the winter barley could now be planted. Alan would organise a hunt to cull the animals in the woods and we would coppice the trees for firewood and to maintain healthy woods. The bone fire would be a celebratory event marking the end of autumn and the start of winter. Mead and beer would be specially brewed. Sarah liked to make a black beer made with roasted barley for the celebration. She only made it once a year and the men enjoyed it all the more for that.

  When my wife and son came into the hall, I had organised my work in my mind. The military preparations we would need to make could be delayed until after Christmas. King Edward’s ambitions could wait, for there was little we could do until the days began to become longer.

  I had another child due to be born. I doubted that the bairn would be born on Christmas Day as Hamo had been, and so unless the child was born on a saint’s day, we would not remember their birth date.

  Sarah brought in the porridge and Mary began to feed Hamo.

  She saw me studying her and smiled. “What goes on in that mind of yours, husband?”

  “I wondered when the next child will be born.”

  “I do not think it will be soon, for Mags said that the baby is not yet low enough.” She frowned. “You are not planning on leaving again?”

  I heard the fear in her voice, and I shook my head. “No, my love, but there are tasks that I need to undertake. We need to cull the wild animals and harvest the woods. If you say that the child will not be born in the next days, then we shall complete that task first, for the rest only need me to be close to the hall.”

  She looked relieved. “Good.” She nodded to Hamo who was trying to feed himself, somewhat unsuccessfully, with a spoon. More of the porridge was on the table than in his mouth but he was trying. “Your son has missed you and when the new child is born, he will need you to lavish attention upon him.”

  “And I will do so.”

  We had spoken at length of my responsibilities and I took them seriously. As I had finished my porridge, I sat next to Hamo and Sarah and tried to show him how to use the spoon properly. It was then I realised that he was making a game of it. He enjoyed spreading the oatmeal on the table. I learned a lesson there. Children liked to play!

  I knew just how much food he had spread on me when I left the hall to speak with Alan. The dogs followed me to lick the lumps of porridge from my breeks. Alan and his wife, along with their children, lived a mile or so from the hall but I enjoyed the walk over the frosty fields.

  Alan went with me to the woods. “I intended to walk the trails today, Captain. It has been some weeks since I have done so. The rut should be over by now and I can see if any of the stags were hurt. If not, I know which one is the oldest. There are a couple of females who no longer produce young and we can cull those too.”

  “Wild boar?”

  He shook his head. “The herd is not yet built up enough for us to hunt, but from what my wife and sons told me, there are too many rabbits. I thought to set snares and traps to thin them out. It will make for a healthier stock.”

  “And wood pigeon?”

  “There are always too many of those. It will be good practice for the younger archers. Taking a pigeon in flight makes for a better archer.”

  Once I was satisfied, I headed for John of Nottingham’s farm. Now that he was no longer going to war, I needed to know what he had planned for himself.

  He was already up and working, one-handed, with his sons. Using billhooks, he was showing them how to make the hawthorn, which grew along the side of his fields, into a barrier and a windbreak.

  “Morning, Captain. A fine crisp day, eh?”

  “It is. Are you pleased that your father is home, boys?”

  John, son of John, was more than a boy. He was a young man and I saw that he had been practising with the bow, for already his chest was growing. “Aye, Captain, and now that he no longer goes to war, I shall have his best bow.”

  His father snorted. “When you can draw to the full, but that will not be yet!”

  I smiled, for this would be the encouragement that young John would need. I had been but little older when I had first served. I remembered being relegated to holding horses and disliking it! “I need to speak with your father. Can you work unattended?”

  “Aye, Captain, for he has shown us what to do.”

  We walked over to the pond, which kept a few fish. It was another source of food for John and his family. We had a much larger fishpond and that served not only the hall but the village in times of need.

  “Have you thought what it is you wish, John?”

  He nodded. “I cannot be an archer and I am content with the farm, and the money you paid me was useful. I would not take charity, but John, my son, is a fair archer.”

  “And you would have me take him on?”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “What say you we give him a trial of a month and pay him a penny a day? It will be a way to introduce him to the life of an archer and to tell if he likes it. I know that he has practised, but you and I know that our practice is harder and can often break a man.”

  “He will not break, Captain, but it is a fair offer. We will speak this day and I will send him to you on the morrow to give an answer one way or another.”

  I left. John could always do as I had done and go on the road to seek an employer. Often that meant greater pay, but then again, that usually meant greater risk. I had made the offer and now it was up to the son.

  I wondered where the day had gone, for by the time I returned to my hall, it was late afternoon. A visit to Father Paul had meant passing through the village when everyone wished to speak with me. I knew why. The attack by the Welsh was still a raw wound.

  My wife gave me a wry smile. “And where have you been all this long day?”

  “I forget my responsibilities, but I am yours now. In three days, we hunt, but other than that I can amuse Hamo and see to your every need!”

  “I was not chastising you, for I think you need to sit and enjoy this hall. We have spent much of your gold making it comfortable, and yet you barely sit in it!”

  I looked around and heeded her advice.

  I felt guilty as for the next two days, I did nothing except to play with Hamo, speak with Mary and eat. It helped that it poured down with rain for a day and a half, and I wondered if the hunt would go ahead. When on the day we were due to hunt the sun shone, albeit weakly, I took it as a sign that we were meant to hunt.

  The hunting would take place over three or four days, but I would not be there for the whole time. It was important, as I was the landowner, that I was seen to begin the hunt.

  I had sent a messenger to Baron Mortimer to inform him that I intended to hunt. He could have objected or demanded the game for himself, but Yarpole’s land was a tiny portion of that available to the baron.

  The first thing we did was to set snares where Alan had identified the presence of rabbits. We had not culled them for a couple of years, and this would make for fatter bunnies in the future. Setting the snares allowed us to find the game trails and that, in turn, enabled us to work out where to hunt.

  Alan was the master hunter and while all of us knew how to hunt, we listened to him and his advice. The boys would be used as beaters and the rest of us left the wood to walk all the way around to where the young men would drive the herd. The beaters would be upwind. John, son of John, led the beaters. This would be the last time that he did so, for he had agreed to a trial as an archer and that would begin the day after the hunt. He had a horn, and when Alan sounded his horn, John would use his to let us know that they were beginning thei
r beat.

  As we waited with hunting arrows nocked and more ready, Alan gave us our instructions. “Old Seven Spikes was hurt in the rut. He is still game, but he cannot move as quickly, and next year he might well die in combat. It is better that we take him now so that it will be the young bucks who fight for the herd. Three older females have not given birth for a year or two. Do not kill any with young. Seven Spikes will be at the fore with the other males. They do not normally congregate together, but when the beaters come, then their natural instinct will be to herd together.”

  Stephen was with us and held a spear as well as three hunting javelins. “You are saying that we only take the stag and three older females? That does not sound a lot!”

  Alan smiled as he explained. “We want a strong herd. Wolves are rare, but if they come, then a strong herd will not lose any young to them. We may end up hunting more than four animals. That depends upon fate. Are we ready?”

  He was looking at me and I said, “Aye. Spread yourselves out. Stephen, stand by me!”

  We were ten paces apart and I had a large chestnut tree close by, which I could hide behind if I needed to. Alan’s horn sounded, followed a few moments later by John’s. The beaters were more than a mile away, but we heard them as they banged and clanged, shouted, whistled and sounded the horn.

  When we heard the noise of terrified animals ploughing through the undergrowth, then we knew they were close. This was like the night attack at the castle. The difference was that a deer could keep running even when mortally struck. It was why I had all of my archers.

  When I smelled the animals and the crashing drew closer, I began to pull back on my bow. The first deer I saw was the new male. The new stag led the herd. He saw the line of men and aimed for one of the gaps between hunters. As soon as he did, we knew that the herd would follow, and we would allow the gap to be bigger so that none of us were risked.

  Two other stags hurtled past and then I saw Seven Spikes, well known by the seven points in his antlers and the fact that he had a white blaze on his head. He was labouring, his wound hurting him. I drew and released. Alan and Will Yew Tree were the closest to me and they released too. Even though we all hit him, no strike was mortal, and they merely enraged him. Seven Spikes had led the herd for many years and his instinct was to defend. He came directly for me. Even as I drew and nocked another arrow, I knew that I would not be able to release it in time, and then Stephen hurled not the javelins but the broad-headed spear. It struck the animal in the chest and the speed of the beast, allied to the power of the throw, drove it deep within the stag. As it stumbled, I sent my arrow at a range of just five paces into the eye of the stag. He crumpled at my feet. And then the herd was upon us.

  The females with young were not harmed. Most of the young males were also left alone, but two young males with the beginnings of antlers chose to attack us and they were both hit by eight arrows and died. The three old females lumbered along at the rear. None of them were moving well and it was a mercy when we slew them. There was silence except for the panting of the beaters as they ran up to view the kill.

  I turned to Stephen. “Thank you, my friend.”

  He nodded. “I have never hunted before. I think that fighting the Welsh is a safer occupation!”

  We all laughed, and David the Welshman said, “You have it right there, Englishman!”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon gutting the animals. The heart, liver and kidneys would all be taken back to eat, but the guts and intestines were left for the animals of the woods. We hacked down some saplings with which to take the animals back.

  As we headed towards the manor, I said, “The young archers and the boys can come with Alan tomorrow and thin out the pigeons. The archers can empty the snares and hunt hares.”

  It was all practice for war, and in addition we would all eat better for it. The animals would be hung for a month or more so that we could cook them and preserve them in time for the short days of winter. Our life was measured by such events.

  When we reached the hall, our work did not cease. The animals were skinned and the offal removed. We gave it to Sarah, for she would make us a hunter’s feast. We sent the boys to fetch mushrooms, wild greens and herbs to go with it. The blood we collected from the dead animals would, with wine and beer, enrich the stew. Even as we were skinning Seven Spikes, I was salivating.

  Mary and Hamo came into the yard as we were attaching the hooks to hang the carcasses in the meat larder. My young son hid behind his mother’s leg. It made me smile. My father had made me help him skin and gut animals from the age of three. I would do the same with Hamo.

  The feast was for the hunters and the beaters. The young boys who joined us in the warrior hall when we ate were as pleased to be invited to dine as they were to partake in the food. This would be the beginning of their journey to becoming warriors. For that reason, I stayed until they had all eaten and were replete. It meant it was late when I entered my hall and Alice met me at the door.

  “Captain, Anne the midwife is summoned. Mistress Mary’s time has come. Her waters…”

  I nodded. “Where is Hamo?”

  “He is asleep.”

  I nodded again. “And you are needed. I will lie with my son. Tell my wife…”

  Alice smiled. “She knows, Captain. She knows.”

  It was a week into December and that meant the child had come a few days early. I did not know if that was a good thing or signified a problem. I stroked my sleeping son’s hair. He looked so peaceful and I wondered if a brother or sister might change his life. I had been an only child. I had often thought it might have been good to have someone else in the house but my father. He rarely spoke to me and it made me wary of people. My children would have no such problem, for the house was filled with noise and laughter.

  I must have fallen asleep because Mags woke me and whispered, “You have a daughter, Captain. She is healthy.” She nodded towards Hamo. “He will sleep now. You can come; Mistress Mary would like you to hold the child.”

  With the bluest eyes I had ever seen, my daughter enchanted me as soon as she opened them and stared up at me.

  “I hope you are not disappointed, my husband.”

  “How could I be? She is beautiful. Do you have a name?”

  “You could name her?”

  “I am not good at such things. You name her.”

  “Margaret; it was my mother’s name.”

  I saw Mags beam, for she was a Margaret too.

  “Then Margaret it is.” Sarah put my daughter, swaddled and cosy, into my arms. I was happy.

  Chapter 13

  Christmas passed and the snow came. We put old furs by the door to keep out the draughts and burned the wood we had harvested. The hunt had given the whole village plenty of food and unlike some villages, none of my people starved. No one died and that was rare, for normally, winter saw the old wither and waste, but no one did, and that caused great celebration as February drew to an end and we were able to believe that we had all survived. Father Paul spoke of God rewarding us and we all smiled. I knew that no matter what part God had to play, the whole of Yarpole and Luston had worked hard, and we had enjoyed a better winter than we might have hoped when the Welsh had raided us.

  I was summoned to Wigmore in April. I had been expecting the summons and I resigned myself to spending the summer away from my family, fighting for the king.

  Baron Mortimer, however, now looking old and frail, had good news for me. “King Edward is coming north, Warbow. He will be here in July. First, he will begin the building of an abbey at Nantwich and then he will inspect the work on the castle at Flint. He is less than happy with the lack of progress that has been made. You and your archers will be needed at Flint on 15 July, St Swithun’s Day.”

  I smiled. “Then I hope the day is dry, my lord, or the king will be even unhappier.”

  I left Wigmore in a good mood. I had an extra two months or more at home. It also meant that I had more archers to take. Joh
n and Edward, John of Nottingham’s sons, had both become archers. John would be fully paid as an archer as he had inherited his father’s skill. Edward would fetch and carry arrows as well as holding the reins of the horses, but he had shown great promise. He would be paid a penny a day. Ralph, son of Jack, was also a good archer and he would come with us.

  When I told my men that we had another two months at home, it did not make them lazy. If anything, knowing that we would go to war in high summer made them work even harder.

  Thanks to our success, we had horses and that was rare, for I had the only company of archers who rode to war. Stephen had trained them all to use the sword and, with the swords we had taken from the Welsh, my men were better armed than any other archer.

  I also paid for them to wear my livery. I had no coat of arms, but I had paid for tunics that reflected me and my skills. They were half dark green and half light green. Along with the green hose they wore, they not only looked smart and could be clearly identified as my men, but the greens also helped to disguise them a little. Additionally, we had taken to dying our goose feathers green. Every archer had a slightly different arrangement so that while they were all, generally, green, there were variations. My arrows were the exception. My goose feathers were all exclusively dark green.

  When we left, we were all better warriors, and that included me. Along with the sword skills that Stephen had given us, some of us could even use a shield, although I hoped that they would never need to.

  There were many tears as we left and that was only right. It was not only the families who were upset. All of the village knew and respected every single archer. It was their communal family who were leaving and whilst the villagers might not be in any danger from the Welsh, they would rather that the archers of Yarpole defended their homes.

  I rode with Stephen at the head of my men. I had been persuaded to wear a helmet, although the attempts of my wife and Stephen to get me to wear mail had failed. My padded gambeson and metal studded brigandine would have to suffice. I took Lion and Eleanor. As we had half a dozen boys to act as horse holders, I was happy that Lion would be well looked after. Edward had shown that he had some skill with horses, and I had learned long ago to use whatever skills men had.