by K. M. Ashman
Montgomery was ecstatic and announced two days of feasting for his nobles while allowing his men to run unrestrained across the island, indulging in the actions due to the victors in all such wars. Reports of rape and murder were dismissed with a wave of the hand as he and his court enjoyed the spoils of the victory.
‘So, Robert,’ said Montgomery, ‘what lies before you now?’
‘I will return to Chester,’ said Robert, ‘and give a full report to Huw D’Avranches though I suspect he already knows of our success, such is the extent of his informers.’
‘I hear he is fatter than ever.’ Montgomery laughed.
‘Indeed – he is a sight to behold and struggles to walk such is his size. But disrespect him at your peril for his reach is long and his temper short. Many men who have borne him insult have been found dead in their beds the following morning.’
‘Especially if of Welsh birth?’
‘Indeed. He has a hatred for any this side of the border, fuelled even more by the continued freedom of Gruffydd ap Cynan.’
‘I was surprised Gruffydd was not here to face us,’ said Montgomery. ‘Our spies in Ireland reported he was petitioning anyone of like mind to join him in supporting Cadwgan’s forces here on Ynys Mon. Luckily for us it seems his pleas fell on deaf ears for if he had managed to raise an army then I suspect our victory may not have been so straightforward.’
Robert laughed and stared at Montgomery with surprise. ‘Why do you say that? He has been no threat since Mynydd Carn.’
‘Come, Robert – any man who can survive twelve years in captivity will always be a threat,’ replied Montgomery, ‘and Huw the Fat was furious when he found out about his escape.’
‘I heard he was rescued by a band of brigands a hundred strong.’
‘Surely you did not believe such nonsense?’
‘I had no reason not to. Why, were events different than those described?’
‘Robert,’ said Montgomery handing his tankard to a wench for refilling, ‘Gruffydd was stolen away from his captors by a single man, a young Welshman by the name of Cynwrig the Tall.’
‘One man against all those guards? He must have been a formidable opponent.’
‘On the contrary, there was no fight for the guards were all drunk in a nearby tavern.’
‘And they left nobody on watch?’
‘Not a single one. Suffice to say, Huw the Fat was enraged and had the guards killed in the most awful way. In addition, he sought out the family of Cynwrig the Tall and had them all hung in front of their kinsmen.’
‘What about Cynwrig?’
‘He was never caught and we suspect he campaigns alongside Gruffydd. Huw the Fat was very clever – by spreading the rumour of an ambush, he secured the help of William Rufus. Our king was reluctant to offer extra support for Huw’s continued campaign against the Welsh but when he heard about this supposed enemy action, he used it as an excuse to launch his first invasion.’
‘From what I can understand that campaign was naught but an exercise in politics for not a sword was drawn in anger.’
‘It’s true there were no confrontations but a man can only fight an enemy that stands before him. William Rufus campaigned for many months across the north but Cadwgan and his forces hid amongst the mountains until the king returned whence he came.’
‘Yet last year, he stood and fought?’
‘Indeed, and though his influence is still a thorn in the side of the king, by taking this island today, the campaign has severed the head from the snake. Rufus may already be back on his way to London, my friend, but make no mistake: this victory is as great as they come. Without Ynys Mon, the campaign would have been deemed a failure. Today we have taken the homeland of Gruffydd himself and probably ensured peace for at least a generation.’ Montgomery leaned forward and carved a cheek from the hog’s head upon the table. ‘So,’ he continued, ‘have you received the final head count from the marshals?’
‘Twenty-three dead; twice that wounded. A good result, for the enemy dead lie in their hundreds. It would seem the lack of a figurehead left them without direction and their opposition was found wanting. I was almost disappointed to find there were no cavalry or even a serious threat from men-at-arms. Still, the victory is the important thing and we can report back that Ynys Mon is once more subject to the rule of William.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Montgomery, and both men drained their tankards. The rest of the night they joined their fellow nobles in drinking and eating, and in violating enemy women captured from the villages on the island. Little did they know that twenty miles away, the steady dip of oars propelled a fleet of six ships towards the island, manned with some of the most feared fighters of the time and commanded by no other than the Viking King of Norway himself – Magnus Barefoot.
The Viking king stood bare-chested in the bows of his ship, the sea breeze stirring the blood in his veins. His long fair hair was tied back from his face and the sides of his head shaved down to the scalp. Tattoos ran down one side of his head from brow to shoulder and continued down across his chest to his belt line. His skin was covered with countless scars – some received in battle but most the result of the many trials of combat enjoyed by him and his men as means of passing the time between battles.
The crossing had been uneventful and at last the island was before them.
‘My lord,’ said a voice quietly, ‘the lookout reports the sound of waves upon the shore.’
Magnus nodded and bent to pick up his helmet from the deck of the ship. ‘Have our archers man the rails,’ he said. He stared hard into the mist. Somewhere amongst its cloak lay the island of Ynys Mon and though he knew of its importance both as a fertile producer of crops and as a strategic outpost to control the northern half of Wales, his interest lay only in what had been agreed during negotiations in Ireland.
‘Well?’ said another voice behind him. ‘It looks like we made it.’
Magnus turned and looked at Gruffydd ap Cynan. The exiled king had petitioned Magnus in Dublin to regain the island on his behalf, and though Magnus rarely fought under the flag of another, the potential to have a beholden ally on the western coast of Britannia was too good an opportunity to ignore. Subsequently, they had agreed terms and the Norwegian fleet now crept along the Welsh shore, waiting for the mist to disperse before landing.
‘The shore is but an arrow’s flight away,’ replied Magnus, ‘but we will wait until the mist lifts its cloak.’
‘I thought the mist would aid you in the approach.’
‘It will, but it is a double-edged sword for we could be sailing into a strong English encampment and no matter how big the advantage of surprise, a well-organised force could reform and counter-attack. No, we will choose the time and place of the landing with consideration. Are your men ready?’
‘They are. We have been too long from these shores and they strain to be unleashed against the English.’
‘A hundred men does not an army make, Gruffydd.’
‘No, but with your five hundred alongside us and another five hundred Irish mercenaries, I guarantee we will emerge victorious. My men were brought up on this island, Magnus, and know every path through every wood. You just get us there and we will do the rest.’
Magnus could hear the emotion behind Gruffydd’s words – though the army was small he hoped that their passion would help guarantee victory.
‘We will see soon enough, Welshman,’ replied Magnus, looking up. ‘The sun lifts her skirts as we speak.’
Hugh Montgomery was still fast asleep when one of his officers called him from outside the tent.
‘Who’s there?’ he replied.
‘My lord, I have disturbing news from those on watch at the shore.’
Montgomery was instantly awake and jumped to his feet.
‘Give me a moment,’ he said. He looked down at the sleeping wench in his bed. For a captured enemy she had been surprisingly eager to please him in the night but nevertheless, he cursed
the ale for letting her stay. Such people had a habit of slitting the throats of their sleeping captors, given half a chance. He shoved her shoulder to wake her before turning to seek his leggings.
‘My lord,’ she groaned, ‘the day is yet early.’
‘I have business to attend,’ he said, ‘get dressed and get out.’
The woman took a few seconds to wake before coming to her senses.
‘My lord,’ she asked nervously, ‘I suppose you don’t want to see me again?’
‘You suppose right,’ said Montgomery, ‘but your company was most welcome. Here –’ he tossed over a coin – ‘it was well earned.’
The woman looked at the coin on the sheepskin covers. ‘I am no whore,’ she said.
‘Whore or not, just take it and leave before I throw you out.’
Despite her disdain, she picked up the coin and after pulling her dress over her head, ducked out of the tent. Montgomery donned his jerkin and summoned the messenger still outside.
‘Enter!’
A chainmail-clad soldier ducked into the tent and stood before him. He did not wait for formalities.
‘My lord, the watch reports the sounds of boats off the eastern shore.’
‘Be they fishing boats?’
‘I think not, my lord. Fishermen would be making a lot more noise and seldom travel in fleets.’
‘Why do you not have more definite news for me?’
‘The morning mist lies heavy on the sea and though that will soon lift, I thought it wise to inform you early in case it is a threat.’
‘Alert the men,’ growled Montgomery, ‘and have my horse prepared immediately. We will see what it is that raises the concern of battle-hardened men.’
The English army mustered at the edge of the eastern shore, most of them worse for wear from two days of celebration. Many more were scattered across the island, still enjoying the fruits of their victory but those who could be found assembled into ranks as they waited for Montgomery to arrive. Eventually he appeared and rode in front of his command, peering out through the rapidly disappearing mist.
‘Robert,’ he called, seeing his friend at the head of the Chester infantry, ‘you too heard the concerns?’
‘Aye, that I did and thought it better to prepare for the worst rather than hope it was hearsay.’
‘A sentiment shared,’ said Montgomery, as he looked across the ranks of his army.
‘I estimate we are about at half strength but have sent messengers to all the local villages to raise the alarm. With luck we should have the full compliment by evening, bar a few. I just hope these reports are a mistake and we sallied forth for no more than a keen fisherman.’
‘As do I,’ said Robert, ‘but whatever the reason, I feel we are about to find out.’ He pointed out to sea and for a few seconds, Montgomery saw no change but as the mist finally dissipated, the sight of six Norwegian fighting ships brought a chill to his bones.
A murmur rippled through the ranks of soldiers waiting in the chilled morning air. The ships were similar to the Viking longboats feared by so many but were much larger. Rows of multicoloured shields were fastened to the rails and the serpentine-carved head of a sea snake coiled backward as if poised to strike.
‘Knarrs,’ said Montgomery quietly.
‘Knarrs?’ asked Robert, riding up alongside him.
‘Viking cargo ships,’ said Montgomery, ‘but oft used to convey warriors. There will be many men on board.’
‘Perhaps they have come to trade.’
‘I think not, the shields tell a different story. Stand to your men, Robert, I think we will soon come under attack.’ He turned away and called out to the ranks of soldiers. ‘Men of England, to arms. Sergeants, take the archers to the shore. I know not if these strangers mean us harm but it is good to show we are ready to repel them if needed.’
The shouts of the sergeants pierced the morning air as they called the ranks to task. Within moments the men were donning whatever spare protection they carried ranging from gambesons to chainmail shirts. Helmets were untied from packs and soon the army was ready to move. As a body they marched down to the shore and spread out facing the stationary ships.
‘Archers to the fore!’ shouted Montgomery.
The ranks opened for the bowmen to come through and each planted their arrows in the soft ground before them.
‘String your bows,’ called Montgomery, ‘and await my command. If they deem to take this shore without parley they will be met with willow and steel.’
Every soldier stared out in silence, each nervous about what may lay before them for though they were battle hardened, the skills and brutality of the Norsemen were well known and not one of the English relished the chance to meet them in battle.
Magnus and Gruffydd stared at the men lining up on the shore.
‘Do you recognise the standards?’ asked Magnus.
‘One is Hugh Montgomery while the other bears the flag of Rhuddlan,’ said Gruffydd. ‘A banner subservient to Huw the Fat.’
‘I am glad to know those I face,’ said Magnus, ‘in the meantime, we will wait.’
‘I grow tired of waiting,’ said Gruffydd, ‘why do we not sail in and attack them head on?’
‘A glorious idea but one doomed to fail,’ said Magnus. ‘They have deployed archers close to the shore and though we do not fear death, to fall with no hope of victory is not honourable. We will hold position and judge the mettle of this Hugh Montgomery. Perhaps he will retire but worry not, whatever his plans, we will meet this man in combat before the sun sets.’
For the next few hours the Norwegian fleet sailed back and forth along the bay, though never coming within arrow shot of the defending army.
‘What game do you think he plays?’ asked Robert, on the shore.
‘I think he is taking note of our strengths and weaknesses,’ said Montgomery. ‘Those ships will hold about five hundred men in total unless there are horses aboard. That number is less than half ours so he knows he has to pick his time and place carefully if he is to have any chance of success.’
‘Do you fear them?’
‘I respect them for they are formidable warriors, but I do not fear them. Our own men are well blooded and will match them with courage. In addition, all those late to the muster have been gathered in the vale behind us and this fleet will have no knowledge of their strength. If we are attacked, their addition will ensure the enemy is outnumbered three to one and that will suffice.’
Back on the knarr, Magnus Barefoot had seen enough.
‘Olaf,’ he called, ‘take us in to hailing distance. Let’s see if these men have the sense they were born with.’
‘Why hail them?’ asked Gruffydd. ‘They are invaders in my lands and deserve to feel the wrath of our blades.’
‘Sometimes words are mightier than the sword,’ said Magnus, ‘but fret not – if they refuse to cede the island then they will soon see the error of their judgement.’
The oars dipped into the sea and the boat turned towards the land, closely followed by the rest of the fleet.
‘My lord, the ships are turning,’ shouted one of the soldiers, ‘they’re heading this way.’
Montgomery turned to see the enemy heading for the shore.
‘Shield wall,’ he shouted, ‘archers, prepare arrows!’
The ranks of his army took the necessary steps as Montgomery mounted his horse. Digging in his spurs, he rode along the front of the ranks, encouraging each man as he went.
‘Do not lose this battle before a blow is struck,’ he shouted, ‘for if your heart is already filled with fear then we are lost. These Norsemen are flesh and bone like you and I. The tales that precede them are naught but boasts of old men and though they are known as good fighters, forget not that most of their conquests were against cathedrals and villages. Seldom have they come against a trained army such as you, and those that have were often found wanting.’
The men cheered in support with many banging their weapons
against their shields.
‘You men,’ continued Montgomery, ‘have already struck fear into the best the Welsh have to offer and have ridden the breadth of this country, without equal. The sound of your marching footsteps strike fear into the stoutest hearts and you have taken Ynys Mon from beneath the feet of their princes. Remember this, for you are the equal of these men and soon they will learn a painful lesson.’
By now the men’s blood had risen and they roared their support, screaming insults across the shallow water to the oncoming ships. Montgomery smiled inwardly. To raise the ire of an army was the most important job of any commander, for to fight without fire in your heart was to end on the wrong side of a defeat. As the men raised the volume of their challenges, he spurred his horse to race back and forth across the front of their ranks.
‘Archers,’ he roared as the water splashed up from the hooves of his galloping horse, ‘target the lead boat. Upon my command, ready . . . loose!’
The air filled with arrows and the English army stared in expectation as hundreds fell about the ship.
‘It seems they are in no mood to parley.’ Magnus laughed from beneath his shield.
‘I told you so,’ said Gruffydd. ‘Their arrogance is beyond belief and they see all men as inferior.’
‘Then let’s show them what others are capable of,’ said Magnus, and as soon as the hail of arrows eased, he jumped up to call to his men.
‘String bows,’ he called, ‘and let them see they play with us at their peril.’
All along the ships the shout was repeated and within seconds the air filled with Viking arrows, each tipped with a sharpened bodkin capable of piercing the strongest of chainmail. Any men caught unawares on the shore fell to the hail of death but most sought protection beneath their own shields. For several minutes, each army exchanged volleys of arrows and though some men fell, neither side gained much of an advantage.
