by Griff Hosker
We had broken through to their last line of defence, but we were now vulnerable. The men in the keep had barred the door, sacrificing the hundreds who were in the inner bailey. Their archers on the top began to hit our archers. I had run out of arrows and soon the others would run out too. We had to close with the men stranded in the inner bailey to make it hard for the defenders in the keep to hit us.
As Stephen and I killed the last of his attackers, I shouted, “Jack of Lincoln, take my men and open the main gate for the king!”
“Aye, Captain! Come on, you heard him!”
As they ran off, I saw that Matthew’s men had clambered onto the fighting platform, and they began to pick off the Welsh who were close to us.
Stephen was the expert here and he said, “Let us get close to the stairs leading to the keep. Their archers will struggle to hit us there.”
I nodded, but we had an awesome task ahead of us as there were twenty or so Welshmen between us and the keep. Most, however, just had spears or short swords. I tucked in behind Stephen’s right side so that I had some protection from his shield and mail. Arrows slammed into his shield and I heard an arrow ping off his helmet. Had the arrow been deflected just a little, then I would have been a dead man, but the missile careered off the metal. I was a fair swordsman, but Stephen was as good as any knight I had seen in the Holy Land. I had the easier task as I used my sword to block the spears that were thrust at my invitingly naked head. My sword deflected them, and I rammed my bodkin into any flesh that I saw.
When I heard a roar from my right, then I knew that Jack had succeeded and the gate had been opened. Stephen and I were still in a perilous predicament, but the brotherhood of archery came to my aid. Matthew’s men saw that we were surrounded and rallied to hit those who threatened us.
As soon as I realised what they were doing, I said, “Stephen, do not move your feet. Let our archers aid us!”
He nodded. This was an exercise in trust. Good swordsmen know how to fight well by using their feet. We now had to fight and use a slight sway of our bodies. The skill of the archers was ably demonstrated as I blocked one spear and saw a second coming towards my head. I felt the wind from the white fletched arrow as it struck the skull of the man who thought he had me. That appeared to be the turning point, for I heard horses as Otto de Grandson led King Edward’s knights to charge into the Welshmen stranded in the inner bailey.
I shouted, “Fetch fire!”
This was a wooden castle, and we need not batter down the gate. We could set fire to it. The Welsh camps beyond the outer bailey still had campfires burning and, while Stephen and I finished off those around us, some of the Cheshire archers fetched burning bands, and others, kindling.
The only Welshmen left in the inner bailey were the dead, so we ran to the gate of the keep and, after piling the kindling around the stairs, set light to it. As I had expected, they had a sally port, which led down to the river, and once flames began to lick up the sides of the keep, I heard a shout from the walls as men began to race towards the river.
Had we had more arrows, then the slaughter would have been greater, but the heart of the Welsh army was broken that day. They lost knights, but even more disastrously for them, they lost archers. As the newly built walls began to burn, my men collected the arrows both broken and whole and then, as we heard screams from within the walls as those on the upper floors burned, they searched the dead. We moved away from the searing heat of the fire as bodies began to fall from the top. The Welsh had lost the Clwyd Valley and in one fell swoop, Prince Llywelyn had lost any advantage he might have had.
Chapter 14
The archers all used the Welsh camp beyond the curtain wall. Our boys arrived with our horses and we chose the better tents. We found plenty of food and we ate well. We gathered the ponies and divided them equitably between ourselves.
Camping there meant we avoided the rape and drunken pillaging of Rhuddlan. Bishop Anian was so angered that he wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury to complain. I do not think King Edward was in the slightest bit concerned. The Welsh were beaten enemies. Had their prince paid homage, then there would have been no war.
King Edward sent for me two days later. He and his knights had scoured the land as far as the Conwy River and he was in good humour when he returned. “Warbow, you did well again! I take it you reaped a reward from the dead?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good. We will be staying here until work can be started on a better castle than this one erected by the Welsh, but you and your men are needed for another task.”
“Another task, King Edward?”
“You will accompany Lord Otto de Grandson and Sir John de Vesci and their men. They will join you at Deganwy. All will be explained.” He smiled. “Do not worry, for the work is well suited to you and your men!”
With that, we were dismissed. I was intrigued, but as we rode the sixteen miles to the coast, David of Wales gave me an explanation. “He is going for Môn mam Cymru, the place you call Anglesey. In Welsh, it means the mother of Wales and is well named, for all of the wheat and cereal that provides bread for the Welsh people is grown there. It is harvest time and the fields are full.”
Stephen asked, “Will the Welsh not dispute it?”
David gave a sardonic laugh. “Have you not yet realised, de Frankton, that we Welsh do not build castles or if we do, then a strong wind can blow them over? Môn mam Cymru is flat and open. There are no forests where we can be ambushed. Only at the far tip is there a mountain and if the Welsh retreat there then they can be left, for they will starve to death.”
David proved to be correct in every detail. When we reached the ruined fortifications at Deganwy, we found ships of the Cinque Ports waiting for us at the jetty that King Henry had built and the Welsh had, conveniently, left in place.
Lord Otto was already loading the ships. He was pleased to see us. “Good, you have horses and ponies. There are three ships over there for you to use. You will land on the island first and ensure that we can land unchallenged. We will ferry our army across. The captains assure me that the voyage will take just a few hours. There is a small port where he will land you. Do not ask me to pronounce it. When I try, I end up spitting at everyone. Your men will hold the port until we bring more substantial numbers to your aid. Once we have all landed, we drive across the island, eliminating all the opposition and harvesting their grain. We have one hundred and fifty scythes aboard one ship just for that purpose!”
I was stunned, for this was planning on an unprecedented scale. King Edward must have had this planned before we left Flint, perhaps when he was still in Windsor! I thought I knew just how clever he was, but I did not know the half of it.
Loading the boats was easier than I had expected. The horses were walked from the jetty over crudely nailed planks. The voyage was not across the open sea but the short six-mile crossing to the island.
The captain of the boat that would take my men was a Kentish man, and his ruddy complexion told its own story. He smiled. “We will soon have you ashore, Captain. We will land at a place they call Porth y Wygyr.” He shrugged. “Funny sort of name.”
David said, “It means port of the Vikings. They used to land there and raid the island.”
The captain seemed happy to have garnered that information. “Well that explains much. If you would have your riders keep hold of the bridles on their horses when we sail. I believe that singing can soothe them. We want to turn around quickly, and so when you have taken the village, we shall get your horses off.”
“You seem remarkably sanguine about this, Captain.”
He smiled. “If I thought there was danger, then I might be worried, but I know there aren’t any warriors there. I have heard of you, Captain Warbow. I remember when you scoured the Weald of the rebels. The archers of the Weald have a good reputation, but they still speak of you as the master. We shall be all right! Now be ready. Cast off forrard! Hoist the mainsail! Cast off aft!”
/> I held on to the reins of Eleanor. I had left Lion with Sir John Malton at Rhuddlan. I knew that he would be cared for. I had seen horses become so distraught with the experience of being at sea that they had kicked holes in the sides of the ship. Eleanor was quieter and she had been at sea before.
Being below the level of the gunwale meant I could see little of the island, but Snowdon, Wyddfa to the Welsh, towered above us to the east. It would be to that holiest of Welsh mountains that the Welsh would be gathered to lick their wounds and plan for the war. I only knew we were close to the port when the Captain ordered the sail reefed and boys were sent to prepare to jump ashore and tie us up.
The other ship would follow us. I saw, at that moment, the mistake we had made. If we were opposed, we could not do anything because every one of my archers was holding a horse by the bridle. Luckily, there was no opposition. We bumped next to the jetty and the wooden planks were put into place.
I was the captain and I led Eleanor to the jetty first. She was a placid horse and she obeyed me. That set the mood for the others and they dutifully followed us ashore. I nocked an arrow but there was no sign of a Welshman, let alone a weapon. My men each nocked an arrow, and I waved an arm to lead them towards the road that led from Porth y Wygyr.
When we reached the edge of the village, we waited. It was eerie, for there was no one to be seen. It was a peaceful summer’s morning and sea birds swooped down to the sea. I kept my eyes pointing inland to look out for danger. If this had been England, then someone would have sought the help of the local landowner and he and his men would be coming to dispute our landing. There was nothing.
Richard of Culcheth joined me. “We have all landed, Captain, and the ships are heading back to Deganwy.”
“Have the boys search the houses for food and treasure. The ships with the men at arms and knights will be along shortly. We wait!”
Stephen de Frankton said, “Where are the Welsh? If this is the mother of Wales, then surely they will defend it?”
David the Welshman dismounted to adjust his girth. He shook his head. “I heard a story… it may be like the stories of dragons, but when the Romans came, it is said, the Druids and the Welsh who lived here taunted their enemies and dared them to risk the straits. The story is that the Romans made their horses enter the straits and they swam across. That was the first great slaughter of the Welsh. I fear, Stephen de Frankton, that we set too much store by the power of this island. We expect it to be safe and therefore need no defence!”
Even though we had landed unopposed, I did not relax our vigilance. The farmers fled at our approach, which was so rapid that we found food and ale in the farms as well as oats for the horses. The boys fetched the food they had found in the houses and my archers managed to discover where the Welsh had buried their treasure. We would all share in it.
I was relieved when Alan shouted that he could see the ships returning. The two that had brought us were joined by another seven and I knew that we had a bridgehead on the island. With archers and knights, we could hold the island once we had conquered it.
Lord Otto landed first, and he sent us to ride as far as we could and then return. I knew why he did so. We were archers and if we found an enemy, we could escape and report it. We were expendable. His men at arms and knights were not!
We reached Llangefni, which David the Welshman told me was an important place, in the centre of the island. Even though there were fewer than thirty of us, we encountered no opposition. I had yet to see a sword or a spear. We returned to Porth y Wygyr and reached it before dark.
My news brought a huge smile from Otto de Grandson. He put his huge mitt around my shoulder. “We will take this island in days. I have one hundred and fifty men come to take the entire harvest. We shall be well fed, and the Welsh will starve! I like the way King Edward wages war. We are well fed, well paid, and the men we fight are nothing!”
It did not prove quite as easy as Lord Otto predicted. Although there were few men on the island and no places that would provide a defensive obstacle, we had to fight, and the first place that they defended was the old royal palace at Aberffraw, in the west of the island. Although more of a hunting palace, the warriors and lords who had fled when we had arrived sought refuge there.
King Edward’s planning astounded me, for even while we were in the west of the island, the eastern corner, where we had evicted the farmers when we arrived, was having their wheat harvested and taken by the ships from the Cinque Ports back to Chester. King Edward was fighting the Welsh by withholding food. The effects would not be seen until the depths of winter, but they were as inevitable as a January freeze.
As captain of the archers, I was summoned with Sir John Vesci to view the walls of Aberffraw. “My men have examined the ditch. It is not well maintained but it will be an obstacle. Can you burn the wooden walls with fire arrows, Warbow?”
I shook my head. “It would take a couple of days to make the number we would require, and we have too few archers. You wish a quick victory?” He nodded. “My men can clear the walls for an assault by your men.” I pointed to the gate. “The wood of that gate does not look new.”
Lord Otto said, “You mean make a ram? That would work, and we could tear down the walls of some of those fishermen’s houses and make them into bridges for the ditches. Get your men into position, Warbow, and we will hew a tree.”
I had no intention of standing my men where the defenders could rain arrows upon us. I sent the boys to fetch the hurdles that were used to gather the sheep. By putting three together and binding them, they made an effective man-sized shield that could be propped before us. The Welsh knew what we were doing, and they tried to disrupt our work as we advanced the hurdle shields into position. They failed and wasted arrows.
We were ready when Lord Otto’s squire, protected by his own shield, ran to us. “Lord Otto is ready.”
“Tell him he can move his men forward. Archers, let us show these Welsh that we are now the masters of the bow!”
I nocked an arrow and then stepped to the side of the shield. I had identified the man I would hit when the Welsh had attempted to stop us closing with them. We were duelling with their archers. The men at arms and knights could be dealt with by Lord Otto.
I had the advantage that although the archer on the gatehouse might be expecting me to aim at him, he did not know from which side of the shield I would emerge. I knew exactly where he stood, protected by the wooden wall, and I stepped out and released within moments. The archer had those moments only to aim and draw. Such are the margins between life and death. My arrow slammed into his head and threw him from the gate.
I stepped back behind the shield and nocked another arrow. I was now gambling, but the odds were increasingly in our favour as our arrows hit the archers on the walls. The ones who saw where we emerged, died, and when the knights and men at arms moved forward, then they became the more obvious target.
When I stepped out with my second arrow, I had to scan along the wall to find an archer. As I saw a bow move around to aim at me, I released and stepped back behind the wooden hurdle. The Welsh arrow smacked into the hawthorn. I gambled that the archer would expect me to step out of the other side of the hurdle. I stepped out the same side and released. This time I watched, for I saw that the arrow was still being drawn, and I would have time to step back. My arrow hit the hand holding the bow and careered into his head. He tumbled from the wall.
I saw the Welsh archers had been thinned by my men. The wrecked houses were now bridging the ditch and I saw men at arms carrying the tree to be used as a ram.
I nocked another arrow and, seeing neither archer nor crossbow, sent it into the shoulder of a man about to hurl a spear. As I was nocking another arrow, I saw a crossbow rise from behind the wall, but William of Matlac’s arrow threw him from the wall.
Our concentration on the gatehouse had reaped its reward. As the Welsh sent more archers from other parts of the walls, they were hit by my men before they c
ould identify where we were.
As the mighty tree slammed into the gate, I heard an ominous crack. I sent an arrow to strike the shield of a Welsh knight exhorting his men to greater efforts. It struck so hard that he was rocked. He moved behind one of the roof supports for the gatehouse, but Jack of Lincoln was then afforded a better view and his arrow hit him in the side of the head. It was a war arrow, but it hurt him, and the head disappeared.
Then there was a mighty crack and the gate burst open. Dropping the tree, the men at arms drew their swords and, whilst swinging their shields from around their backs, they raced into the king’s palace.
We nocked arrows and ran forward. The defenders had to expose themselves when they tried to send arrows or spears at the men at arms and knights who flooded in, and when they did so they were an easy target for my men. Once we were inside the walls, we slung our bows and drew our swords as we ran to winkle out the last of the Welsh defenders.
By the early afternoon, it was all over and the last of the defenders had surrendered. Lord Otto was ruthless. All of the Welsh archers had their drawing fingers removed. We took every weapon and sent the men at arms and archers from the palace, bootless and bleeding. They might get to the mountain fastness that was Wyddfa, but as warriors, they were broken. Only two knights surrendered, and they were sent back to Porth y Wygyr and thence to Chester. They would be ransomed.
We joined the others in ransacking the palace. The knights did not bother but my men and I were experts, and we knew where to look. By the time darkness had fallen, we had taken everything of value, and we had found some sumpters so that we could take back our treasures.
Lord Otto wasted no time. Anglesey is not a big island. It is twenty-two miles from east to west and eighteen miles from north to south. The last stronghold of the Welsh was the old three-sided Roman fort at Caer Gybi, on the Irish side of the island. We headed there, knowing that it was stone and a ram would not work. We reached it in less than half a day, for we were a mounted chevauchée. The Welsh had manned their walls, but our advance had been so swift that few of the islanders had managed to make the safety of its stone walls. We set fire to the town, and the billowing smoke convinced the defenders to surrender. Some managed to flee in ships from the harbour, but the half dozen boats that left carried fewer than forty warriors.