Medieval II - In Shadows of Kings

by Kevin Ashman

  Sir Robert remained quiet but the look in his eyes told Tarian he doubted the sense in his leader’s words.

  ‘Is there anything else?’ asked Tarian.

  ‘No Sire,’ said Robert.

  ‘Then sort the guards and get some sleep. There are arduous days before us.’

  ----

  The following morning the men formed up in loose ranks. The mood was quiet and they had already buried three comrades who had succumbed to their injuries overnight. The remaining wounded had been sent out to the Dragon while the able bodied had salvaged what they could from the still smouldering hulks. Men talked quietly as Tarian walked amongst them, checking what weapons they had and what stores they had managed to accumulate.

  ‘It’s not much,’ said Sir Robert, ‘but the rest is spoiled.’

  ‘It will be enough,’ said Tarian.

  ‘There is hardly enough for ten days.’

  ‘If we halve the rations and forage off the land we can last for a month.’

  ‘And then what? We have no horses.’

  ‘Neither do these natives and they seem to manage alright, are we no better than them? What we will do is this…’ He stopped talking and looked at Sir Robert who had fallen silent and was staring in horror over Tarian’s shoulder.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Tarian but turned to follow the Knight’s stare.

  ‘Mother of Christ have mercy,’ whispered Sir Robert and made the sign of the cross on his chest.

  Up above them on the hill, the edge of the forest seemed to come alive as hundreds of men emerged from the undergrowth. Even though they were half a mile distant, Tarian could see they were natives and his heart sank as he realised his remaining force was vastly outnumbered. The enemy walked slowly down the slopes and Tarian addressed Sir Robert over his shoulder.

  ‘Get the men into defensive lines,’ he said quietly, ‘pike-men to the fore.’

  ‘What’s the point?’ asked Sir Robert, ‘their numbers are as many as bees in a swarm.’

  ‘Do it,’ said Tarian, ‘this may be our last stand, my friend but too many have died for us to simply lay down as beaten dogs. We will sell our lives dearly.’

  ‘Sire,’ said a voice behind them, ‘I don’t think that will be necessary.’

  Tarian turned and saw Geraint behind him.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Look,’ said Geraint and pointed to a man walking a few yards in front of the main body of natives. ‘Is that Achak?’

  ‘I believe it is,’ said Tarian, ‘and unless I am mistaken, there are also women and children amongst them.’

  ‘What difference does it make?’ asked Sir Robert, ‘if they are like their brothers on the far side of the river then our lives can be measured in minutes.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Tarian. ‘If Geraint is right and I believe he is, these people do not intend to kill us but welcome us with open arms.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’ asked Robert.

  ‘Because they are not Apalach, my friend, they are Mandan.’

  ‘And that means what?’

  ‘It means we have reached our goal,’ said Tarian. ‘We did it, Robert, we have found the descendants of Madoc.’

  ----

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dolweddan Castle

  1276

  Garyn stood waiting amongst a line of recruits. All had spent the last few days sleeping in a cold stone hall with nothing but thin potage for food. The Prince’s coin had gained him entrance but any thoughts of being recruited to a position close to Llewellyn were short lived as he saw he was just one amongst hundreds hoping to gain employment in the Welsh army. Finally the sergeant at arms called them to stand in line in the castle courtyard. A Knight in full colours sat behind a trestle table along with an administrator writing on a vellum scroll. As the line shuffled forward, Garyn could see men being sent in different directions and forming into separate groups around the courtyard. Finally he reached the table and the administrator looked up to greet him.

  ‘Name?’ he said.

  ‘Garyn ap Thomas.’

  ‘Birthplace?’

  ‘Brycheniog.’

  ‘You are from the south?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘What brings you north to fight alongside the Prince?’

  ‘Circumstance.’

  ‘Are you outlawed?’

  ‘On minor charges only.’

  ‘What are your skills?’

  ‘Horsemanship, lance and sword.’

  ‘Have you seen combat?’

  ‘I have been on Crusade, but saw little conflict.’ At that the Knight’s head turned toward Garyn for the first time.

  ‘With whom did you crusade?’ he asked.

  ‘Sir Robert Cadwallader,’ said Garyn.

  ‘I know of Cadwallader, he died in service.’

  ‘He did, Sire.’

  ‘So how have you lived yet your lord and master perished?’

  ‘It is a long tale, Sire but the truth is I was released from service.’

  ‘Are you a coward?’

  ‘I am not, Sire. If I was I would not be here.’

  ‘We will see,’ said the Knight. ‘I will hear more of your story Garyn ap Thomas, but now is not the time.’ He turned to the administrator. ‘Put him with Lewis of Conwy.’

  ‘Sire, he is yet untried,’ answered the clerk.

  ‘If he is found wanting, Lewis will find him out,’ said the Knight.

  ‘Place your mark here,’ said the administrator and indicated a place on the vellum. Garyn took the quill and signed his name beneath a column of simple marks made by others before him. The administrator nodded in quiet admiration.

  ‘The boy can write,’ he said.

  ‘I am my father’s son,’ said Garyn.

  ‘Name your Sire, Garyn,’ said the Knight, ‘for there is a familiarity about you.’

  ‘My father was Thomas Ruthin of Brycheniog.’

  The Knight nodded as his suspicions were confirmed.

  ‘I thought so,’ he said. ‘Head over to the main tower and await instruction.’

  Garyn walked away and sat at the base of the huge fortification.

  ‘Did you know his father?’ asked the administrator.

  ‘Oh I knew him,’ said the Knight. ‘I fought alongside him for three years.’

  ----

  Garyn sat against the base of the tower walls as the rest of the recruits filtered through the process. Eventually Thomas Thatcher signed his name and walked across the courtyard.

  ‘Tom,’ shouted Garyn as his friend walked toward him, ‘what is your posting?’

  ‘Kitchens,’ said Thomas. ‘The best I could have hoped for in the circumstances.’

  Garyn glanced at the withered hand.

  ‘It may get better,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Tom, ‘anyway, at least I now have a future which is a lot more than other cripples.’

  ‘You are no cripple, Tom.’

  ‘Nor can I ever be a thatcher again,’ said Tom. ‘Anyway, I hear the wenches in the kitchens can be very friendly. Fret not, Garyn, my life has taken an upturn. I may not be destined for glory but I will settle for a warm bed, female company and a full belly. What man could ask for more?’

  ‘If you are satisfied, Thomas Thatcher, then I am happy for you.’ Garyn stood up and held out his hand in friendship. ‘You have my gratitude, Tom. Thank you for being a friend when I needed one most.’

  ‘You get ahead of yourself, Master Garyn,’ said Tom, ‘you don’t get rid of me that easily. While you are training it seems you will be getting fed from the castle’s kitchens. No doubt you will face me across a table with an empty bowl and a hopeful look in your eyes.’

  ‘Ha,’ laughed Garyn, ‘then I should take care not to upset you for a very wise Monk once told me, a soldier’s best friend is the camp cook. Hopefully that piece of advice will bear fruit.’

  ‘Who knows?’ said Tom. ‘I cannot have favourite
s, Garyn but my hand is weak and if the ladle slips while pouring potage into a man’s bowl then surely I cannot be held responsible.’

  ‘Good luck, my friend,’ said Garyn with a smile.

  ‘And you,’ said Tom and after grasping Garyn’s arm in friendship, continued across the courtyard toward the kitchens.

  ----

  ‘You men,’ shouted a squire, ‘follow me.’

  Garyn and a dozen others followed the boy into the main hall and gathered together, talking quietly amongst themselves. Finally another Knight entered and strode over to face them.

  ‘My name is Lewis,’ he said, ‘and I am a Knight of Llewellyn’s guard. You men have been selected to join the lower ranks of the guard and will support your betters with lance and shield. In the morning you will be allocated mounts and weapons. There will be a period of training and those who reach the standard will be deployed within weeks.’

  ‘Deployed where, Sire,’ asked a voice.

  ‘Wherever it is that Llewellyn deems fit,’ said Lewis. ‘There is rumour of an attempted coup from within and we are working hard to find the conspirators. That could be in any manor from here to Anglesey and as far south as Builth. Prepare to train hard and campaign harder for we will not rest until we face these traitors or hunt them down as the dogs they are. You are about to go to the armoury for chain mail and helms. Take time to ensure your equipment fits well for you will live in little else for weeks on end. Now, before we go, who is the one known as Garyn ap Thomas?’

  ‘That’s me, Sire.’ said Garyn.

  ‘You will stay here,’ said Lewis.

  ‘But why?’ asked Garyn.

  ‘Curb your mouth,’ said the Knight, ‘and do as I say. The rest of you, follow me.’

  The rest of the group left the hall leaving Garyn alone with the squire. The young boy looked at him nervously as Garyn paced the slabbed floor. Finally he stopped walking and faced the Squire.

  ‘What do you know of this?’ he demanded.

  ‘I know nothing, Sire,’ said the boy.

  ‘You must know something,’ said Garyn, ‘why have I been left behind?’

  ‘Because I requested it,’ said a voice and Garyn turned to face a man who had entered the hall behind him. For a few seconds, he struggled to recognise the familiar face but then it came to him. It was the leader of the mercenaries he had met weeks earlier.

  ‘Goddeff,’ said Garyn, ‘what are you doing here?’

  ‘The same as you, I suspect,’ said Goddeff, ‘undertaking gainful employment in the name of Llewellyn.’

  ‘But I thought you had a commission to fill?’

  ‘I do indeed and here I am, fulfilling it.’

  ‘You intended coming here all along?’

  ‘It would seem so,’ said Goddeff.

  ‘But why didn’t you say?’

  ‘I knew you for hours only, why would I share such knowledge with a stranger?’

  ‘It is a point well made,’ said Garyn. ‘So you now serve the Prince?’

  ‘For the foreseeable future,’ said Goddeff, ‘or at least until his supply of coins dries up.’

  ‘You fight for his money?’

  ‘That’s what mercenaries do. Anyway, don’t you want to know why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why I asked for you to remain behind when your fellows departed?’

  ‘Enlighten me.’

  ‘Because, Garyn of Brycheniog, my offer of a few weeks ago still stands. I want you to ride with me and my men.’

  ‘But why? I am a far inferior soldier to those you call comrade.’

  ‘At the moment perhaps, but you have a noble pedigree for one so young. Skill I can teach, heart I cannot.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Your exploits in the holy-land still ring in my ears and such a man will always be welcome to ride alongside me but there is something greater that influences my mind.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Your lineage.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Garyn.

  ‘You come from good stock, Garyn. Your father’s name was well known across the country not only on the tournament fields but across the holy-land as a feared Knight.’

  ‘He was a mercenary.’

  ‘But a Knight nonetheless. Many men speak his name in awe and though you told me of his fate, I only made the connection when Sir Fredrick recognised you.’

  ‘Sir Fredrick?’

  ‘The recruiting Knight.’

  ‘He rode with my father?’

  ‘He did,’ said Goddeff, ‘as did I.’

  Garyn gasped in astonishment.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said, ‘we are a hundred miles away from my birth town yet my father’s name is held in great esteem.’

  ‘He was a local man, Garyn and his name borders on legend.’

  ‘But I always thought he was from the south.’

  ‘I would suggest that’s what he wanted you to know. It is no secret he tired of war and sought the peace a family brings. There was no shame for he proved himself many times in battle. Where better to start a new life than at the other end of his country?’

  ‘So how did you know him?’

  ‘We joined forces in Syria and shaped a formidable alliance. A band of men feared across the holy-land. Our names were spoken in awe by friend and foe alike and for three years we roamed Palestine at will, administering our wrath on the enemies of any man who could pay our price.’

  ‘You mean any Christian who could pay our price.’

  ‘I meant what I said.’

  ‘But surely you didn’t serve the infidels?’

  ‘We fought for many paymasters of many faiths but I will say this. We only killed Christians when paid by other Christians.’

  ‘That is unforgiveable.’

  ‘Really, then why are you here?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Do you not think you may have to kill a man, perhaps many?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘And you are comfortable with that?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘And what faith do you think they will be?’

  Garyn fell silent as the realisation sunk in.

  ‘It’s not the same,’ he said eventually.

  ‘It is exactly the same,’ said Goddeff. ‘Anyway, we waste time. My offer still stands, I want you to join me and my men. You will be well fed, well paid and have respect from men of note across Wales.’

  ‘Even though I may fight on many sides?’

  ‘Perhaps so but I promise you this. I will never ask you to raise a fist against our own countrymen on behalf of the English crown. If Welshmen want to kill Welshmen then that is their business, however, we will never accept English coins against our own kinsmen.’

  ‘But I signed allegiance just this very morn.’

  ‘I have already secured your release should you see fit to accept my offer.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Garyn, ‘there is much to consider.’

  ‘Then let me tell you this. The days before us will be fraught with danger. You have already proven you are a man of bravery, you owe it to yourself not to become a man of stupidity. Llewellyn keeps his favoured Knights close and though they are men of honour, he will not risk them in conflict unless there is a high chance of victory. To do that, the battle must first be one of pike and poleaxe and it is well known that many men die before Knights are committed. Why do you think he recruits, Garyn? What sort of man do you think he sees you as?’

  ‘As a fellow soldier in search of a common goal.’

  ‘No, Garyn, you and all the rest of them out there are nought but cattle, a price worth paying to achieve the ultimate aim. It is nothing personal, just the ways of war. Wake up and take this opportunity if not for your own sake, then in your father’s name. The offer stands until nightfall only, after that, it will not be made again.’

  ‘I will not need the time,’ said Garyn, ‘I accept your offer.’

&nbs
p; ‘It is the right decision,’ said Goddeff. ‘Now, retrieve your horse from the stables and meet me at the gates at dusk.’

  ‘Are we not staying here?’

  ‘Walls are a boundary we do not countenance, Garyn. Like our namesakes we prefer the forests to the keep, the stars to the ceilings. We drink from rivers not wells and hunt the deer of the forest.’

  ‘Your namesakes?’

  ‘We have garnered a reputation amongst the nobles of Wales, Garyn. They see us as wolves amongst men and have named our group after those noble beasts. You may have heard of us.’

  ‘You are the Blaidd?’ said Garyn with incredulity.

  ‘We are,’ said Goddeff, ‘and as of this moment, so are you.’

  ----

  Chapter Twenty

  The New World

  1276

  Geraint walked alongside Achak as the Mandan led them through the hills of their land. The survivors of the Apalach attack were surrounded by happy, chattering natives and were astonished to find that most of their hosts spoke at least a smattering of Welsh. The Mandan talked about the spirit people and the ancestors who had come from across the sea in the times of their grandfathers. As they walked the landscape changed and they were soon walking through cultivated fields of corn being tended by Mandan women. Along the edge of the fields and on the ledges of the nearby cliffs, men armed with spears and bows watched them approach and Achak explained their role was to look out for Apalach raiding parties. Eventually they dropped down into a valley and the column could see smoke plumes rising into the afternoon air behind a wooden palisade stretching across the valley.

  ‘Look at the walls,’ said Tarian, ‘the poles are bound with rope, a similar construction to back home.’

  ‘I expect Madoc left them with many skills,’ said Sir Robert, ‘and it will be good to grasp the arm of his descendants.’

  They walked through the gates and though the construction of the walls was familiar, what lay beyond was totally strange to them. As far as they could see, hundreds of domed huts lay semi sunken into the valley floor. The small parts of the walls that were visible were clad in mud and covered with painted images of the many animals hunted by the Mandan. The domed roofs were made from woven reeds and smoke came from holes in the apex, evidence of the cooking fires within. Naked children ran amongst the huts and skinny dogs snapped at the strangers’ heels. In the distance, the glint of sun on open water signalled the location of an open lake and they could see dozens of small round boats being used for fishing.