King in Waiting

by Griff Hosker

  Peter nodded. “I will obey, but I am not afraid!”

  I smiled. “No one thought that for an instant!”

  Geoffrey had food and ale sent to us. I drank sparingly and allowed Will to have my share. While the others ate, I spoke with John and Jack.

  “I think we are in danger here. We take it in turns to watch.”

  John nodded at Will who was smiling, drunkenly, at all around him. If we had to fight then he would be fierce but, as a sentry, he would not be alert enough to keep watch. “All of us?”

  “No, just we three. We have the most experience.”

  Jack of Lincoln had lived the hardest life of any of us, and he knew how to kill. He patted his knife. “Aye, Captain. I hope that bastard comes tonight. I would like to stick him with my steel and end this! I hate looking over my shoulder.”

  As did we all! The wagons were in the yard of the inn. It was a tight fit, but with the horses in the stable and the gates closed, they were as secure as they could be. We had one man in each wagon, and I took the middle watch. The rains might have stopped, but it was still October and it was cold. I wrapped my cloak about me but did not bother with the hood; I kept my head warm with my archer’s cap.

  When Jack of Lincoln woke me, he took my place in the wagon. I sat in the middle of the wagons with my back against a wheel and placed my sword and dagger on the ground next to me. I had deliberately chosen the middle watch, even though it was the most unpopular. The couple of hours’ sleep had refreshed me, and I was still alert. For me, John of Nottingham had a harder watch as he would rise from a deep sleep.

  I sat on one of the carter’s straw-filled cushions. It stopped the cold from seeping up through my body. I leaned back into the wheel and watched the sky – it was a clear sky and a cold one. My breath formed before my face. I knew how to keep watch; I moved my head slowly to scan the skyline and I listened. The horses in the stable would alert me to any intruder as, I hoped, would the inn’s dog. It had growled at us when we arrived. Robin of Barnsley had a way with animals, and he had got it on our side. It slept next to the gate.

  I was not sure if I saw the movement on the roof; I wondered if my imagination was playing tricks but, when the dog growled, I knew that there were enemies, and they were not coming through the gate but over the roof. I hissed, “Jack, they come. Wake the others.” I knew that he would not yet have fallen into a deep sleep.

  I picked up my sword and dagger and stood, by sliding my back up the side of the wagon. I spied a shadow on the roof of the inn. He was sliding down the thatched roof. Having seen one, I then saw another three. It was a clear night, and bright for the time of year. I saw no faces and knew that they were facing the roof to slow their descent. They had ropes. I guessed they were secured, to allow them to lower themselves down the roof and into the yard. I made my way to the gate.

  Robin of Barnsley appeared next to me with a knife in his left hand and a small hatchet in his right. I nodded with my head at the roof so that he knew where our enemies were. Our breath would give us away, for it was still like fog before our faces when we breathed. As soon as they turned, they would see us. The dog still growled. Robin reached down to pat it and the dog stopped growling, knowing that Robin was a friend.

  When I reached the gate, I put my ear to it: I could hear men on the other side. The three who were sliding down the roof were there to open the gate and let the rest in. I now understood why they would only send three men into an inn filled with armed men: the three were skilled killers.

  The rest of my men had risen, and I saw their faces as they stood by the wagons. John of Nottingham had taken charge. He saw just three men and would regard this as an opportunity to take them on two sides. He did not know about the ones beyond the gate.

  Above me, I heard a hissed conversation and, although I could not make out the words, it told me the men were above my head. The gate was recessed on both sides, and Robin and I, along with the dog, were hidden. Then I managed to make them out. “I have not heard the dog for a while.”

  “It has gone back to sleep. Silence, for they may be sleeping in the wagons.”

  Then events happened rapidly. The three men must have used the wall to walk down, for I saw their legs appear as they slid down the rope. The dog saw enemies, and his teeth fastened onto the leg of one. The dog was a big beast, and the bite must have been fierce, for the man cried out. Then, the other two landed in the yard before us. The dog’s bite had alerted them, and they had weapons ready. One slashed at the dog with his short sword, but Robin partially blocked it with his dagger and then chopped at the man with his hatchet. The other killer lunged at me with his sword, and I parried it with mine. John and my archers ran to the man who was being savaged by the dog, and I could hear the noise of people in the inn shouting as they heard the clash of iron. My opponent knew his business. A bodkin dagger in his left hand, he lunged at my eye. His hand was quick and, although I moved my head to the side, he still scored a long cut along my cheek. I instinctively rammed my dagger upwards and felt it cut through material, then flesh, and finally, as blood dripped down my hand, it grated off his ribs. He grunted, but he was a tough man. He tried to headbutt me, but I lowered my head so that his forehead hit the top of my skull and then drove my knee up between his legs. Hands grabbed him from behind as he reeled.

  Robin of Barnsley’s opponent lay dying in a pool of blood. The one savaged by the dog was the least wounded, and the man I had stabbed did not have long for this world. Geoffrey of York and the innkeeper appeared, along with the carters. All were armed.

  I pointed my sword at the gate. “There are more men outside. I will open the gate and we can confront them.” I was not sure if it was foolish or calculated but, even as I lifted the bar, I heard the sound of hooves. We opened the gate and ran out to the market square. I saw ten riders galloping east. There was neither wall nor town watch in Chedle, and the men had escaped. This had not ended as I hoped.

  Torches had been brought. The man I had stabbed had expired, silently going to his death unshriven, but the other was talking. The innkeeper was questioning him and doing so none too gently. His guard dog had a cut along its side, and men had tried to enter his property. “What were you trying to do?”

  I knew that the man was a hired killer. The one I had slain knew his business. The single survivor’s eyes flicked from me to the innkeeper, and I saw the lie in them as he spoke. “We saw the wagons arrive and thought they might contain something worth stealing.”

  The innkeeper nodded, seemingly satisfied, but I asked, “And what about those on horses who waited outside?”

  He shook his head. “I know nothing about that. We three came alone. Let me have my leg seen to, for your dog has wickedly sharp teeth.”

  The innkeeper shook his head. “My dog will have attention before you! Tad, Rafe, bind him and put him in the ale cellar. We will take him to Totmonslow for judgement at the next session.”

  “You have slain my friends, let me go, for I have learned my lesson!”

  “Take him away!” The innkeeper apologised to Geoffrey of York. “I am sorry about this, sir. Since the war, there have been many attacks on innocent people. It is time the king did something.”

  Geoffrey of York nodded. “Aye, it is safer in the north than here in this land.”

  “Innkeeper, I would keep a close watch on that one. He is slippery.”

  “Do not worry, we will watch him.” He pointed to two of his other men. “Dispose of the bodies.” I held up my hand and knelt to examine the purses of the two men. “You would rob the dead?”

  I shook my head as I poured the contents of the purses into the palm of my hand. “Put these coins into the church alms box. These were not poor men, there are fresh-minted coins here. The man was lying.” I gave the purses to the innkeeper.

  “Then on the morrow, we will question him more rigorously before we take him to Totmonslow.”

  Left with my men, the carters and Geoffrey of York, I said,
“These were sent by de Ferrers. The sooner we leave and get to Cheshire, the better.”

  “Aye.” Geoffrey looked at me and my bleeding face. “You need that wound seeing to.”

  “My men can do that. We are all awake and it is a clear night, what say we head out before dawn? We could make many miles. If we stop two or three times, we might reach Telford by dark and then Wigmore Castle would be just one day away.”

  He looked at Simon, who shrugged. “I would rather be on the road, sir, where we can see our enemies, rather than risk an assassin in the dark.”

  “Then prepare the horses and I will settle our account.”

  John of Nottingham saw to my wound. “This could have cost you an eye, Captain. Then your days as an archer would be over.” He cleaned the wound with vinegar – it stung. “This needs stitches but the light is too poor.”

  “Just put honey on the wound and cover it with a bandage.”

  “It will be hard to talk. Better have a drink now while you can.” He handed me the ale skin from one of the wagons.

  I nodded as I drank. “Then I will listen and let you do the talking. If we can reach Wigmore then we will be safe.”

  “Until we try to get home.”

  “Aye, that’s the problem, until we have to cross back to the east. This time they will be waiting.” With the honey applied and a bandage around the lower half of my face, I would find it hard to either eat or drink, and talking would be almost impossible.

  Simon was a good carter, and soon one wagon had its horses hitched and was driven into the market square. It made it easier to move the other wagons We saddled our horses and took them out too. By the time the third wagon had been moved, Geoffrey of York had concluded his business. “The innkeeper felt guilty about the incident. He did not charge us for the stabling, just for our food.”

  John of Nottingham shook his head. “The purses we took will never see an alms house.”

  I knew that John was right. The innkeeper had not been concerned that I might take the purses, just that he wanted them for himself. We were about to leave when he rushed out. “The prisoner has escaped and Tad is dead! The man had a dagger in his boot!”

  John of Nottingham said, “The captain warned you!” Pointing east, he added, “If you wish to catch the murderer then look towards the lands to the east.” He turned back. “We are ready, master.”

  Geoffrey of York pointed south. “Let us ride!”

  We reached Wigmore Castle as a barely visible sun set on a gloomy and fog-filled day. The clear night of the attack seemed a lifetime ago. I had barely eaten, but the itch in the wound, which began as we neared Wigmore, told me that the healing had begun. John had sniffed the wound each time we had stopped and could smell no badness. While Geoffrey of York sought an audience with Baron Mortimer, John took me to see the lord’s doctor.

  When the bandage was removed, the doctor’s eyes narrowed. “How did you come by this wound?”

  “The captain was attacked.” I still found it hard to speak, and John answered for me.

  “Then he is lucky, for another finger higher and he would have lost his eye. I will have to stitch the wound.” His hand opened. It would cost. He might heal those in the castle as part of his duties, but I was a stranger and I would pay.

  I counted out three silver pennies. He beamed, as it was more than he expected from an archer. “They will be small stitches!”

  He gave me a drink of aqua vitae and then, after cleaning the wound, began to sew. It hurt, but I bore it. I would now be able to both eat and drink. I would also be able to speak.

  Geoffrey of York returned some time later and looked pleased. “His lordship is happy and we are well paid; we have more than the merchant was going to pay us. Baron Mortimer has many men to arm! It seems he knows you, Gerald, and would speak with you on the morrow. We are to stay here in the castle. We should be safe from assassins here.”

  Baron Mortimer and his wife, Lady Maud, saw me alone the next morning. Lady Maud was a force to be reckoned with. She was from the Braose family; a powerful Marcher dynasty, and she knew about political struggles. Had she been a man, she would have led armies. As it was, she guided her husband. Roger Mortimer was a brave knight and a fierce fighter, but it was his wife who had a mind as sharp as any general’s.

  I had seen Roger Mortimer many times and he knew me. “The youngest captain of archers, welcome Gerald War Bow. It is good to meet another loyal servant of the king. I too almost lost my life at Lewes! I will have vengeance on de Montfort.” He leaned forward. “How did you come to be serving this merchant?”

  I told him of our flight, our enemies and the threat which remained to us, but not the meeting with the castellan of Lincoln. I believed that the baron was loyal, but I knew how to keep my mouth closed.

  “The merchant was a little vague about your attackers, but you know who they were.”

  “Aye, lord, it was de Ferrers’ men.” I described our capture of them.

  “Then this is personal?”

  “It is, but I am seen as Lord Edward’s archer too.”

  Lady Maud smiled and gave her husband a knowing look. “Do not worry, Captain. There are plans in place to free Lord Edward, and you have been sent to us for a reason.”

  “Aye, you shall stay here with us, and we can plan the rescue of Lord Edward.”

  I shook my head. “First, I am honour-bound to take my master home. I took his coin, and I will not abandon him.”

  They both looked surprised, then the baron nodded. “A delay of a month will not hurt us as winter is upon us and…” He realised that he was about to say too much and waved his hand. “Take your master home and then return, for Lord Edward and his father, not to mention England, have great need of you, Gerald War Bow.”

  Lady Maud asked, “Are there many such as you, archer?”

  “Like me, lady?”

  “Loyal and with all the attributes of a noble who gives his word to a merchant and keeps it.”

  I did not give the answer that was in my head, for it would offend a high-born lady. I had seen much ignoble behaviour from apparent nobles and far better behaviour from some commoners like my friend, Roger of Talacre. “In my experience, my lady, such behaviour comes from the way that you were raised, and just reflects my father’s hand.”

  “Then he was a good man.”

  I remembered a cold man who had brought me up alone. “He was a hard man, but he was a good father and a fine teacher. I owe him much.”

  The baron said, “We will pay you a salary while you are with us, but I have no doubt that you will wish to return to the service of Lord Edward once he is free.”

  “Aye, lord, for we swore an oath to Lord Edward, and we would honour those words.”

  I went to dine with the archers and the men at arms, as well as Geoffrey of York. I told Geoffrey of our conversation, and he seemed relieved that he was not going to be abandoned here, on the other side of the land from his home. John of Nottingham had kept his ears open, and he told me what he had heard. “Lord Edward may be released sooner rather than later. The Earl of Gloucester has returned home because he is unhappy with the way that titles have been awarded, and there are many who feel as he does. It is rumoured that de Montfort is keen to free Lord Edward once he has put in place certain strictures on the power of the king.”

  “Strictures?”

  “He would lose most of his lands and be accountable to a council of commoners and lords.”

  I thought that was a falsehood and that Lord Edward would not agree – then I thought back to the man I had come to know over the past couple of years. He would agree, if he thought he would soon have his freedom and then he might fight to get them back. He would give a little to gain all. A throne and a crown were at stake, and Lord Edward wanted both. Now I understood the baron’s veiled words.

  The next morning, we were eager to be off and headed north, towards Chester. This time we would not collect salt, but we would hurry north and east and at
tempt the Woodhead Pass. The snows had not yet come, even though it was cold enough and there was plenty of rain. My wound itched, but the doctor had been good. He had told me to seek a doctor once I reached York and have the stitches removed in a month. If we could not find a doctor then we would do it ourselves. We had all tended each other’s wounds before, and we were not without skill.

  The men all knew that we would be leaving Easingwold and, whilst they were in the main sad, they knew that it would bring them closer to our lord, Prince Edward. The exceptions were Peter and Will. Peter rode with me and John of Nottingham, and I think it was for reassurance. He had seen us attacked and knew that the best of our warriors were John and me.

  “Captain, have I progressed enough yet for you to think I might be an archer?” His voice was uncertain. He had grown stronger since he had been with us, but he still lacked confidence.

  “You are strong enough and you are diligent enough but, as John will tell you, we cannot know until you are a man grown. Do you not like the life?”

  He nodded. “I think it is the best of lives, but…”

  John finished his sentence for him: “But you now know that you will be far from your family and you are fearful.”

  “Aye, I am.”

  I considered my words before I spoke them. “Both of us left our families when we were your age; I was a little older. You would leave home one day in any case. Your father wishes you to be an archer, and so do you. You have another few days to make your decision, for when we reach Easingwold then we will pack our bags, turn around and make this same journey.”

  “I think I will stay with the company, but I will use the days you have given me to make a sound judgement. I will speak with my father and my mother.”

  John laughed. “Already you have grown!”

  When we reached the pass, the first flurries of snow fell. They did not stick upon the road, but soon they would, and then the pass would be closed. The wagons were empty and we had spare horses. We used our own horses to help pull the empty wagons up the slick slopes made slippery by melting snow and sleet. My men cut down branches from nearby bushes and used them to place under the wheels of the wagons. It was hard work but we were strong, and we negotiated the pass in one day.