by Griff Hosker
When we reached the river, I saw that the king had invested Aberconwy. I guessed that the king had used Captain Matthew’s men to keep watch and they had alerted the king. It showed the Welsh nobility how efficient King Edward was.
King Edward was there to greet us, and I saw the contrast in the two men immediately. It was not just that King Edward was both younger and taller – he looked more confident. The two rulers greeted each other courteously. I saw Llywelyn’s brother Dafydd. He was in the background and had a look of victory on his face.
When the introductions had been made, the king said, “Thank you, Warbow. Your work here is done. You may return to your farm, having served England.”
Prince Llywelyn shook his head. “King Edward, I would like the archer to attend the talks. He is an honest man, and I am unsure of where I may find allies.” It was a barb aimed at his brother.
The king nodded. “When all of your men are gathered, we shall begin the talks, for there will be no discussion, Prince Llywelyn. Bishop Anian is here as a guarantor of fairness.”
“And he supports you, King Edward. In this real-life game of chess, I am left with few pieces at my disposal.”
I was included in the talks. That I was in unknown territory was clear. The Treaty of Aberconwy, as it was known, merely put on parchment the words I had spoken to the prince in his castle. Godfrey was next to me and when some Latin phrase was used, he explained it. Thanks to his words I saw that Prince Llywelyn’s hands were tied. England effectively ruled Wales. The only parts that could raise their own taxes were Gwynedd, Rhufoniog and Dyffryn Clwyd. Anglesey was the only place that could raise serious money and Llywelyn had to pay a thousand marks a year for that privilege.
When the treaty was signed and witnessed, Llywelyn knelt before King Edward. He placed his hands between the king’s and bowed his head. It was the symbolic gesture that he would be a dutiful prince. Llywelyn was resigned to his fate. His attempts at becoming the ruler of a united Wales were ended, and he was a minor prince once more. However, he still held some power, and I believed he hoped that the king would allow him to marry Eleanor de Montfort.
He turned to me. “Farewell, archer, I hope we do not meet again, for if we do, then it will be war and I am tired of war. I hope you prosper.”
I felt sorry for him and I nodded. “And I hope you find peace too, Prince Llywelyn. I am a man of war, but I now hope that the only time I get to use my bow is at the butts, where I try to outdo my men, rather than to slay farmers.”
The king gave me a sharp look, for he knew my meaning. English knights had suffered no losses, and few had even been forced to draw a sword. John Malton had gone home richer, having done nothing. It had been the spearmen and archers who had died at Rhuddlan. He said, “Aye, Gerald Warbow, we are pleased. Baron Mortimer will reward you in due course.”
I bowed and returned to my men. We wasted no time in packing up and heading home. We would have a three-day journey.
Before we left, I did two things: I spoke with Godfrey, for I had seen that pretty clothes do not mean a soft man. The man had been faced with unenviable choices and yet had made a success of his life. “Farewell, Godfrey. If you pass my farm, there will be a welcome.”
He smiled. “And farewell, archer. If ever I saw an archer who should be a knight, it is you.”
Our last call was to the Earl of Warwick, who was still our paymaster. With coffers filled with the ransom he had taken, he was more than happy to pay us off. We headed home and I wondered if my days of war were over.
Chapter 16
It was almost November by the time we reached home. We had not come the direct route across Powys, for I was uncertain where Lord Maredudd and his rebels were to be found, so we took a longer, safer route. We had lost not a man and I wished to keep it that way, and so we came through Chester and then Nantwich before heading for Shrewsbury and Wigmore. It cost us more, for we had gained ponies and horses and stabling was not cheap. I was being prudent. I did not fear Lord Maredudd, but I would not lose a man for my pride.
Yarpole was warm and welcoming. As I stepped through the door, Hamo ran to greet me and my daughter squealed with laughter when I smiled at her. “I am home, and the war is over!”
Mary’s eyes widened. “You are home to stay? The king will not ask for you next year?”
“I think that the king’s eyes will now turn to securing Wales.” I had been privy to many conversations about Wales after the conquest and I explained it to my wife. “The castles that the king has built will be just the start. He is encouraging English settlers to move to those castles and has his men building new towns to house them. Indeed, he is changing the course of the Clwyd to make better farms. Then there are all the castles from which the Welsh lords have been evicted. They are being rebuilt and improved. He is bringing English law and courts to Wales. He will not need to war against the Welsh, for he is ringing it with castles and fettering it with English law. He has brought over the master builder from Savoy, Master James of St George. I do not think that the threat from the Welsh is over, but I will be at home and we shall live in peace for at least a year, and that is more than we have enjoyed hitherto.”
Some of my archers announced that they wished to marry and to raise families. They had the money to make comfortable lives.
Stephen de Frankton was the only one who appeared unhappy. He came to see me in the new year when the grass was beginning to grow. “Captain Warbow, I need to speak with you.”
I had sensed his unhappiness since the Welsh campaign. He had fought as hard as any, but I knew that he had not yet rid himself of the need for vengeance for his lost family. The lords and the prince who had slain his family still lived and prospered.
“Of course, Stephen, for I know that something troubles you. In the months since we have been back, you are restless.”
“The Welsh war is over and my sword sleeps in my scabbard. I still feel the need to atone. With your permission, I would take the cross and join a crusade. Acre needs warriors. I have spoken to you as well as Robin and know that while it is a hopeless cause and we are doomed to lose it, perhaps I may, in my small way, slow the end.” He shrugged. “I just feel that I need to do this.”
“Then go with my blessing but I fear you will be disappointed. Know that there will always be a place for you here. I know that Robin and Peter will be sad.”
“I have spoken to my shield brothers and they understand.”
It was a sad parting, for Stephen was popular. As with all such partings, the gap was soon filled, for my archers were becoming fathers. Mary became pregnant again and I had the joy of watching Hamo and his sister grow. In fact, life was peaceful for a further two years. My second daughter, Joan, was born, and all was well in my house. Hamo played with the sons of my archers and enjoyed the rough and tumble, not to mention the bloody injuries, of young boys learning the skills that they would need when they were older, for all would be warriors. Only John of Nottingham was truly a farmer, and that had been imposed on him by a wound. We saw little of Baron Mortimer, save for the times when we took his taxes to him or one of his messengers informed us of a change in the law. We simply got on with life.
We had more years of peace than I had predicted. New castellans were placed in the castles at Hawarden, Dinefwr, Llandovery and Carreg Cennen. In fact, so prosperous were the Marches that our income increased year on year. Yarpole and Luston grew, and some of the woods were cleared to make new farms.
It was April, and more than two years had passed since peace had descended upon Powys. Baron Mortimer now had three castles that had belonged to the lord there, Lord Rhys Wyndod. Baron Mortimer had used the king’s stonemason to improve them and garrisoned them with his men. Sir Roger had done well out of the war and was now one of the richest of the Marcher lords.
Early one April morning, he came to visit and was accompanied by twenty men at arms as well as his squire and three knights. The baron now looked his age. He was one of the oldest of
King Edward’s advisers and, as far as I knew, had not been to war for some time. Now he rode mailed and ready to fight, I feared the worst.
“Is this war, my lord? Does the king summon us?”
He dismounted. “Not the king but your feudal lord: me. I have not called upon you for the past two years but now I need you.”
“Will you enter my hall and take refreshment, my lord?”
“We have no time for that. A rider reached me last night and told me that there is trouble close to my castle at Llandovery. The former lord is causing mischief. John of Reading is my castellan and eight of his men were attacked and murdered. Animals were taken and houses were burned. I need you and your men to hunt them down.”
I could not refuse but I did not want to go. Llandovery was almost sixty miles away. “How many men will you need, lord?”
“You have more than twenty now; leave ten here and fetch the rest.”
I nodded and waved over Peter. He was in command of my men and knew them better than any. “Peter, I need ten of my archers.” I lowered my voice. “Choose the younger ones and those who are unmarried.”
“Aye, Captain. And which horse?”
“Better make it Lion; Eleanor is getting old.” As he went off to obey my orders, I said, “My lord, if you wish to start down the road, my men will catch you before you have gone five miles.”
He nodded. “Damned Welsh! The only one you can really trust is a dead one! Do not tarry, Warbow; I need your archers!”
The visit had been so brief that Mary only reached the door, having made herself presentable, as the men at arms headed down the road. “That was a brief visit.”
“And I fear it does not bode well for us. My archers and I are to help capture some rebels. I know not how long I shall be away.”
She gave me a sad smile. “I suppose we should be grateful for the two years you have been at home. You will take care.”
“Of course.”
It was Tom and Martin who were now the mainstays of my archers. The rest who accompanied me were all young archers. Only John, son of John of Nottingham, had experience of war, but this would be the chance to blood them. I saw the older ones, like Robin, Will Yew Tree and William Matlac, were watching the young archers as they mounted their horses. I was leaving them behind, and they saw the new generation taking over.
Peter had packed four ponies with spare arrows and tents. The tents would be for four of us and the others would make hovels. I assumed that we would be housed in Llandovery Castle while we hunted the rebels.
Tom asked, “Peter said we hunt rebels – do we know how many?”
“No, and the land in which we seek them is rocky and affords many places to hide. I fear this will not be a quick campaign. The Welsh will close ranks against us.”
Martin said, “Aye, and there is no David the Welshman to help us.”
“David has done enough, and he has married late. His wife is expecting a child. Baron Mortimer can use one of his men to translate. This time we are here to help and not to lead.”
As far as I could recall, the baron had done little fighting when we had ended the revolt. He had taken men to Carreg Cennen, but that stronghold had surrendered when Llywelyn had been defeated. He had enjoyed an easy war and gained castles as a result.
We caught up with the slower moving men at arms by the time we had ridden three miles. The baron nodded to me and I joined his men at arms, and I rode next to their captain, John Giffard. I learned as we headed towards Builth Castle that he was a landless knight, which was why he did not use his title. He was, as I came to know, a truly professional soldier. He seemed to be another like Godfrey Landvielle. He had suffered ill luck but thanks to an indomitable spirit and self-belief, he had carved out a career for himself. He led the men at arms from Wigmore Castle and, as I came to realise, had trained them to his own exacting standard. He and Stephen de Frankton would have got on well.
It was he who told me the issue. “There are too few men garrisoning the castles. Many lords have taken their men to Gascony to fight in King Edward’s wars there. Otto de Grandson was in high favour after Anglesey, and he and Robert Burnell were sent to Gascony to impose the king’s will on the rebellious lords there. Builth Castle, where we will spend this night, has but three heavy horsemen, three light horsemen, twenty crossbowmen and forty archers. Builth is one of the king’s fortresses. Llandovery is even worse off. Before the attack, there were four heavy horse, six light horse, ten crossbowmen and ten archers. Two of those who were killed were men at arms, while the others were crossbowmen and archers. John of Reading has barred the gates.”
I read much into that. For the men to have been taken unawares and murdered was careless in the extreme. Locking the gate after the attack also reflected badly on the castellan. Baron Mortimer was learning the folly of choosing poor leaders.
Builth Castle was imposing and had been improved, but the garrison would soon have to withdraw to the keep if they were attacked. They simply did not have enough men to man the walls. The king’s castellan, James of Tewkesbury, did not inspire me with confidence.
If Builth was imposing, then Llandovery was a shadow of that fortress. It was a smaller, meaner castle and Baron Mortimer had done little to improve it. However, there was potential. The round keep was built on a large mound and the ditch ensured that an attacker would struggle to assault it without ladders. The lord, John of Reading, was a mouse who looked afraid of his own shadow.
There was plenty of room for us in the castle, and we made ourselves comfortable while John of Reading bore the wrath of the baron. The three knights kept apart from John Giffard and me. It did not bother us. We were warriors for hire and knew our own worth. We had fought in the same battles but had not come across each other before. That was not unusual, for most times archers fought on foot and, when they could, men at arms fought on horseback.
John was what was known as heavy horse. It was not the horse that was heavy, just the weight of the armour the rider wore. John wore a mail hauberk, although he did not wear the chausse. With his coif and helmet, he would be a formidable sight riding towards Welsh spearmen. The danger to all of our mounted and mailed men would be the Welsh archers, and that was why we had been brought along.
When the baron returned, John of Reading followed sheepishly behind. The baron did not choose his words to alleviate the embarrassment of the castellan. “This could have been avoided. The men were allowed to drink in the small town, and they were attacked when they left. They were drunk and easy to kill.”
“And the sheep, Baron?”
“That, Warbow, appears to have been the main reason for their attack. The flock is mine and allowed to graze on the hillsides close to the castle.”
John of Reading ventured, “All the local farmers leave their animals to graze, Baron!”
The baron’s head whipped around. “The Welsh will not steal Welsh sheep, but mine are English! You have cost me money.”
While the baron was apportioning blame, I was trying to solve the problem of how to find the thieves. “I assume that they would not simply slaughter them.” The baron’s anger turned to me and I explained as he glared. “What I mean, my lord, is that they cannot have got far. It has been, what? Three days?”
John of Reading nodded. “Tomorrow will be the fourth.”
“Then they must be within twenty miles of here. Castellan, where do you think they would go?”
“Up the Towy valley. There are many side valleys where they could shelter and slaughter the animals they do not need.”
The baron rubbed his beard. “This is a flouting of my authority.”
John Giffard said, “It may be more than that, my lord; it may be an attempt to ambush you. If this castellan knows where they have gone, and we find their trail, then I would suspect it to be an attempt to capture you. A Marcher Lord would fetch a fine ransom.”
“Reading, what do you think, if you are capable of such action?”
The man col
oured. “There is resentment to your presence here, my lord. The people were all supporters of Lord Wyndod.”
“And where is he?”
“I believe he is with Dafydd ap Gruffydd in Rhufoniog.”
My heart sank. Dafydd ap Gruffydd kept appearing just where we did not want him. I saw him as the only weakness in King Edward’s strategy.
“I will deal with him when we have dealt with these sheep stealers.” Ignoring his knights, who had remained silent throughout, he said to us, “You two plan a way to avoid being ambushed, capture the sheep stealers and retrieve my sheep!” He turned to the castellan. “And let us see if you are able to furnish food that is edible. When we leave, on the morrow, you will ride at the fore. If anyone is going to die in an ambush, it might as well be you!”
I did not feel sorry for the man. He had brought about his own ruin, but whatever position and influence he had enjoyed were now gone. Llandovery was one of the smaller castles belonging to Baron Mortimer. Had John of Reading done well, he might have moved on to Chirk, Montgomery or even Wigmore. Now, when the sheep were returned, he would have to seek another employer.
The man at arms picked up the jug of wine and two goblets. “Come, let us sit by the light. Wine will help my thoughts.”
I poured us two goblets. They were made of pewter and were a little battered, but they were serviceable. “My men and I can move faster than the baron and your men. I would suggest that we leave before dawn and pick up the trail of these murderers.”
“Do you think it is a trap for the baron?”
“If Dafydd ap Gruffydd is involved, then aye! It makes perfect sense. Would Baron Mortimer have come if his men were not murdered? More, would John of Reading even tell the baron if it had just been sheep that were stolen?”