by Griff Hosker
I saw that Ralph’s spear was also bloody. Then my next Breton was upon me. This one had an open helmet and I saw that he had a surcoat which was similar to the man I had just slain. Perhaps he was a son. I watched him stand in his stirrups. He intended to strike down at me. I jerked Ridley’s head to the right. There was now a gap between Sir Ralph and me; I had the room. The tempting target I had made disappeared and the knight had to lift his lance over his horse’s head. Even so he had fast hands. His lance smashed into my shield as I thrust my spear into his thigh. The leather of the saddle stopped any deeper penetration and as the knight fell over the side of his horse my spear was broken. I drew my sword and reined Ridley in for we were in danger of becoming detached from the King who was having more difficult time than we were. The knights of Anjou and those from Ploërmel had lost men in the charge and the knights from the Breton right were surrounding the King. My son was in danger.
As a lance was thrust at my chest I blocked it with my shield and then chopped the wooden weapon in two. The knight tried to draw his own sword. I punched at his horse with my shield and it reared. As the knight tried to control it I thrust forward with my sword. The blade slid under his right arm and came away bloody.
The King had lost two of his household knights and Prince Geoffrey was backing away. If the standard fled the field then men would follow and we would have lost. “Samuel, Ralph! With me! We must save the King!”
Without waiting to see if they obeyed me I pulled Ridley to the left and charged towards my beleaguered monarch. A knot of knights saw what the three of us intended. Four of them turned their horses to come for us. We had one thing they did not, speed. Wulfstan had always said that I had the quickest hands he had ever seen. I was older but my hands still moved quickly. As the first Breton raised his sword I pulled the reins to my left so that he struck air and I did not aim my sword at his body but sliced across his arm. It bit through to the bone and his sword fell to the ground. My speed and my change of direction brought me to the right side of the next Breton who was trying to pull his horse around. I watched Samuel as he stood in his stirrups to hack into the shoulder of his enemy as I brought my sword across his back. He arced and fell. Sir Ralph’s opponent was distracted. His head flicked to the side and Ralph’s sword took him in the throat.
The knights who were trying to get at the King heard the noise of neighing horses and the death cries of knights. The blood from Sir Ralph’s victim sprayed in an arc and they turned. King Henry shouted, “England and King Henry! Die you bastards!” He swung his sword in an arc and it sliced through the coif of a Breton knight. Samuel lunged and his sword went through the back of the knight protecting the Count of Nantes. I could not see his face but when the Count’s head turned to see the danger then I knew he was worried. I spurred Ridley and he leapt forward. I brought my sword down over my head as the Count slashed his sword at my chest. His sword hit my mail and pain raced through my body. I was hurt but my sword cleaved his head in two. As Samuel slew the standard bearer the battle ended. We had won.
I normally felt relieved at such times but as I tried to cheer I found that I could not get my breath. I felt as though I was choking yet how could I be? There was no blood on my surcoat. My mail had held. I looked around for enemies but I saw none and I heard cheers. Then all went black.
Chapter 8
When I awoke I was looking into the face of Brother John, the King’s healer. He smiled, “You had us worried Warlord.”
I touched my chest, “Was I cut?”
He shook his head, “The blow broke your breastbone. At least I think it broke it. I could see no cut. There is bruising and swelling. I have told the King that you cannot leave Nantes for at least two weeks.”
“I am in Nantes?”
“The King had a wagon bring you here and I sat with you.”
“My son, grandson, squire, they live?”
He shook his head, “My lord but you amaze me. You have been close to death and yet you put others first.”
“Did you give me last rites?”
He hesitated and then realised that he was a priest. He nodded, “Aye lord for you stopped breathing.”
“Does my son know this?”
“No, lord. I was alone with you in the wagon.” He hesitated, “Forgive me lord but I breathed life into you.”
I laughed and it hurt, “You save my life and apologise? Thank you, Brother John. Where are we now?”
“In what would have been the Count’s castle. It is now Prince Geoffrey’s. “I looked at Brother John. “Aye lord, he ran. His father was less than happy and he has not won his spurs.” He stood. “I will fetch your son and grandson. They have watched outside this door for the past two days. He smiled, “I think the bang to your head when you fell did not help.”
He went to the door and opened it. My son and grandson entered and both looked relieved.
The King’s healer said, “I will tell the King. He was worried.” He paused, “Do not stay too long. The Warlord needs rest. I will return with some medicine.”
My son took my hand and held it. “Father we thought you were gone. We detected no sign of life when you fell. Brother John came and said that you lived. Why did you take part in the charge?”
I smiled and said, “The King asked me to. You risked your life as did Samuel. Why should I be any different? I have lived long enough. I would rather I died than you or my grandson or even Simon. Why do you worry? I am alive!” They nodded. “Did we lose any men?”
“Harry Lightfoot and John son of John were wounded. They will be with you when we leave.”
“You go to Rennes and Mayenne?”
My son nodded, “But we would rather be here with you.”
“You serve the King and you make coin. I will still be here when you return and then I will come home to England with you. Perhaps this wound was sent by God so that I may recover in Stockton. I should like that!”
Samuel said, “Prince Geoffrey tried to run away. Had not Wilfred restrained him then we might have lost the battle.”
I looked at William. He nodded, “The King was not happy. He is not to be knighted. The Prince goes around like a child chastised for stealing sweetmeats. I will be glad to get back to Stockton. I do not envy the King his sons!”
Samuel said, “And while the King’s son vacillated, Simon galloped up and dismounted to protect your body with his own. That was truly heroic and brave. The King was impressed.”
I nodded. It was a mistake for my head hurt, “You are lucky. Your children are both perfect. They have chosen good husbands and wives. You will have many grandchildren!”
Samuel blushed, “Grandfather!”
My son laughed, “Your grandfather is well!”
Brother John appeared, “The King is relieved that his Warlord is alive.”
My son, William said, “Come we have to tell our men. They have not yet celebrated our victory. Now they can celebrate the victory and the Warlord’s recovery!” He put his arm around Samuel and I saw the pride in his face.
The potion Brother John gave to me helped me to sleep and when I woke I saw Simon sitting in the chair close to me. “Warlord, the King will be here soon. He is taking the army to Rennes but he wished to speak to you first.” He smiled, “I am glad you live. When you fell I feared the worst.”
“Thank you for standing by me. It must have been hard.”
“No lord it was easy. How could I leave the man who saved England? It would be like betraying my own country. I will fetch the King. He said he wished to be notified when you awoke.”
There was a jug of water and I poured myself some. My chest hurt. I had a left arm which did not work as well as it might and now my right hand caused me pain when I used it. How could I be a warrior?
The King came in and waved Simon away. The door was closed. “You had me really worried, Earl Marshal. I thought I had lost you.” For once his voice was not business like and cold but friendly and filled with warmth. “Once agai
n I am in your debt and owe you my life. I was wrong to ask you to be in the line with me.”
“And yet lord, had I not been there …”
“I know, I might have died! I thought my son would have more backbone. I fear he is a weakling.”
“He is young.”
“Yet your squire is the same age and he leapt from his horse and protected your body with his sword. I know what I saw. I will cow the lords of this land and return here by the end of the month. I leave Brother John with you. He is a good healer and I am lucky to have him. I would have you try to make something of Geoffrey. I leave him here. You made a man of me. Let us hope you can do so for my son.” The King’s voice was filled with disappointment. He had given Geoffrey the chance for glory and greatness and he had spurned the offer. Samuel and Ralph, in contrast, had grasped the opportunity with both hands.
I did not see them leave. Brother John had me confined to bed. My chest was tightly bound in bandages and I was not sure that I would be able to walk. I hated being confined and I decided to take matters into my own hands. I had Simon find four warriors and they brought a board. They lifted me upon the board and I had them take me to the outer ward where I could sit in the sun. Brother John oversaw the transportation. As he walked with my bearers and me to the ward he nodded, “This will probably aid your recovery. I should have thought of this.”
I lay in the fresh air. The river and the sea were close enough to keep a pleasant breeze blowing. I found myself at peace. Simon sat with me each day. The first day he filled in the details of the battle which I had missed. He told me how the archers and dismounted men at arms had driven the levy from the field. When the rebel standard had fallen it had begun the rout. The death of the Breton count had ensured that most of the knights surrendered although a few had fled the field. Simon had told how the King had promised they would be hunted down. My fall from Ridley’s back had, apparently, been spectacular. My son and my knights had been cheering me when I fell with no obvious wound save a ripped surcoat and some severed mail. There was neither blood nor wound except for the wound when my head hit the ground. Simon told me that I owed my life to Brother John. If he had not been with us then I might have died on the battlefield.
The second day I had Simon read to me. I had spent my life in war and I had little to do, until I was healed, except to lie in the sun. The Count of Nantes had some books in his library. Simon read them to me.
It was as he was reading, just after we had had a lunch of broth and bread, that the new Count of Nantes approached. It was Geoffrey. It was obvious that he wished to speak and yet he did not know how to begin. I smiled, “Congratulations on your new title, Count.”
His face looked as though he had just tasted a lemon for the first time. “One brother is King of England and the other will rule Aquitaine. I have this pathetic little Breton backwater! There is nothing for me to celebrate.”
I could not lift my head easily and shaking or moving it hurt me still. “Would you take some advice from a man who is old enough to be your grandfather?”
“Will it gain me a throne?”
“When your father was your age he would have leapt at the chance to be Count of anywhere. There were many times where your grandmother and your father and I were hunted the length and breadth of England and Normandy. We did not know if he would regain the throne. Each day we fought not for a crown to place upon his head, but for a victory, no matter how small which would bring that day closer. You will be Duke of Brittany. As soon as Constance is old enough and you marry her then you will be Duke.”
“But Brittany is not Normandy, Aquitaine nor England. It is an afterthought from my father.”
“And what would you have?”
“Normandy or Anjou!”
It was then that I knew that Geoffrey’s silence and his apparent studied contemplation was nothing of the sort. He was brooding. It was no wonder that he had not stayed by his father’s side. If his father was killed then he might inherit Normandy or Anjou. I closed my eyes.
I heard Geoffrey ask Simon, “When the Warlord fell you leapt from your horse to protect him. Why?”
I opened my eyes. Simon’s face was a picture of shock and disgust in equal measure. “I was carrying the standard and he is my lord. It was my duty to protect him.”
“But we all thought him dead. You could have been killed and for what? To protect a dead body?”
Simon’s voice showed the depth of feeling, “My lord, I swore an oath to serve and protect the Warlord. That includes his dead body. If that means that I must die then so be it. I will not be foresworn. I would have thought that you owed a duty to your father the King even without an oath. Perhaps I was wrong.”
Geoffrey shrugged, “No, you are a fool!” He strode off.
Simon turned to look at me. “We serve a man who does not deserve our loyalty lord.”
“We serve the King. Geoffrey is just one of the King’s children. Besides, when I am healed we will return to Stockton and the taste in our mouths will not be so bitter.”
After seven days Brother John took the bandages from my chest. His hands were gentle as he explored the wound. “It seems to be healing. I will bandage it again but I think you can try to walk a little. If Simon is with you then you should be safe. Your two men at arms are also healed and they can accompany you.” He looked at me and wagged a finger at me. “Within the castle and no further!”
It took a day or two for my legs to regain their strength and I was pleased that Harry Lightfoot and Arne Arneson were with Simon. My men at arms were both strong warriors. Harry had lost two fingers on his left hand and Arne had taken a spear to the cheek. Both were philosophical about their wounds. They were alive and they had coin from the battle. We took to walking the walls of the castle. The climb up the stone steps hurt my chest but we were able to rest at the top before we walked around the fighting platform. We never saw Geoffrey. He avoided me after our discussion. I had not done as his father had asked. Perhaps that was a challenge beyond me.
“Well, Warlord, we shall soon be on a ship back to England. This is a fine land but it is not home is it?”
“No Harry. We may not grow wheat in the valley and have to import wine from here but I would not change my valley for this whole Duchy.”
Arne picked at the scab on his face. “I know not what Ada and the bairns will think of this when we reach home.”
Harry said, “She will be glad you are alive. When your beard grows back she will not notice. I am just glad that I lost the fingers on my left hand. I can still grip a shield with those remaining and wield a sword with my right hand.”
The King and my warriors were away for a month. By the time they returned I was able to walk unaided. I was ready to go home. I spoke, not to the King but my son. The King was speaking with Geoffrey. “Was there any more fighting?”
“No, father. We reached Rennes and were welcomed by cheering crowds. The King sent the men of Anjou home and he used just our men. Mayenne was a little less enthusiastic about our arrival and we stayed there seven days while the King made changes. We came back the long way, through Poher to Vannes and then back along the coast. We are weary of Brittany and ready to go home!”
“As am I. Soon it will be autumn. The time for safe sailing will soon be over. I hope the King does not tarry.”
We were alone and my son asked, “And Prince Geoffrey?”
“I fear he will not change. The King thought I might influence him but he would have none of it. He spoke to me once and then has kept apart.”
“That says more about him than it does you, father. There is none better at moulding young men into warriors. Even if, like me, it takes some time for a fool to see what is in front of his face.”
“You were briefly seduced. It happened to me in the east. With Geoffrey I think it goes deeper.”
“The King has promised payment before we return home. I have sent Sir Leofric to arrange for ships to take us thence. You will be coming with us?�
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“I hope to be but…”
“The King cannot need you further. We have Brittany. What is there left?”
“I know not. When the King has time, he will speak with me. If I cannot travel with you then make your own way back. You cannot wait on one man and your knights will be keen to see their families. If you leave soon then you will be home before the harvest.”
He gave me a sharp look, “You are thinking of the Scots.”
“We have defeated their armies but there are those who would risk much to steal from us. It will be no secret that our knights are abroad on the service of the king. The sooner they are home the safer our land will be.”
“And what of you; will you be safe?”
I smiled, “I will. I am almost healed now and a leisurely voyage home will do me good.”
He did not look convinced but he left to see if Leofric had secured the ships. I found Simon. “On the off chance that the King allows us to return to Stockton have our bags and chests readied. Make sure that Ridley is returned to Sir Leofric.”
“Aye lord.”
Despite my words to my son that I was healed I found it hard to remain standing for long periods. I found a chair in an arbour and sat down. A servant came over, “Can I get you anything, my lord?”
“A goblet of wine would not go amiss.”
My son was right. The King would not need me I could go home. Perhaps he was done with me. I know that my brush with death had shaken him. He did not need me any longer. He had made all the decisions in the Breton campaign. I realised that I was his good luck charm. He kept me around for it brought him good fortune. It inspired fear in his enemies. He did not need me. The realisation made me suddenly happy. My work was done. I had turned Henry into a King and a leader. He controlled one of the largest empires in the western world. When the servant came back with the wine he saw my smile, “You are feeling better, lord. Good. This is a new jug I just opened. It is at its best.”