King in Waiting

by Griff Hosker

  Of course God smiled on us, for I was helping the son of the appointed king! I asked, once we were in the outer ward, “What goes on this day?”

  “I know not save that the castellan asked for food and drink as a host of mighty lords and princes arrive later today.”

  The sentries at the inner ward appeared quite relaxed and lounged against the walls of the inner ward; they appeared to be looking inward rather than outward. As we went through the gate towards the keep and the kitchens, I began to look for Lord Edward.

  At the gate, the scrutiny was also on those emerging. That made sense, as they would not want Lord Edward walking out with the tradesmen. There appeared to be little security in the inner ward, and I wondered if they were preparing for the feast. I was intrigued. A man, probably the steward, with a wax tablet, stood at the door to the kitchen, presumably checking off the items as they arrived. He looked at the man now identified as Rafe, and frowned. “There are supposed to be six fowl.”

  Rafe said, “My friend here has them in his cloak.”

  Seemingly satisfied he said, “Take them through the far door. Abelard will butcher them.”

  The kitchen was a maelstrom of activity. People who had come before us were placing their goods on tables and hanging them from hooks suspended from the ceiling. We had to squeeze through past an innkeeper who had just delivered a barrel of ale. He nodded to Rafe. “Another two barrels and I am done.”

  “I hope you have some left, John, I owe my friend here a beaker.”

  The man leaned in and said conspiratorially to Rafe, “The stuff I have delivered is not of my best. It is young Simon de Montfort who arrives, and he will drink wine. The beer is for their servants and soldiers. They matter not!”

  We entered the butcher’s room, and I saw that the ale cellar steps led down from it. The butcher looked up from the haunch of venison he was jointing and recognised Rafe. “Fowl?”

  Rafe nodded.

  “I will deal with them now, for we have no cages in which to keep them. This was hurriedly arranged. We only discovered that we had to cook for thirty guests yesterday. Thank the Good Lord that they leave on the morrow!”

  I was intrigued. Young Simon de Montfort had been captured at Northampton by Lord Edward. Had he come to gloat? If so, he had waited a long time to do so.

  Rafe said, “Friend, give him yours first, you have been of invaluable service to me.”

  I reached under the cloak and grabbed one by the neck. Drawing it out, I handed it to the butcher, who grabbed it in one hand and brought the cleaver down with the other. He held it for a while and grinned. “Some of these lose their heads and do not know they are dead!” He laid down the carcass and I handed him the second. That was dispatched as quickly.

  Rafe said, “When you have completed your business, I will see you in the inn.”

  I draped the cloak over my arm and squeezed out of the room as a second barrel of ale was brought to the cellar, slipping out unnoticed by the steward, who turned to direct a man carrying onions to the vegetable store.

  Once in the inner ward, I pressed myself against the wall so that I could not be seen from the door of the kitchen. The sentries on the walls were not looking within the ward, and I scanned it. There were stables, and men were entering and leaving. There were four men guarding the gate to the hall, as well as four at the gate leading to the outer ward, scrutinising the tradesmen leaving the castle. It looked hopeless – and then I spied Lord Edward and Henry Almain as they left the stables.

  They were walking, and appeared to have no guards, although I saw the four men at the gate stare at them. They were under scrutiny. If they headed for the hall then all was lost, for there was no way I could gain entry there. I began to move directly to them. If I could, then I would attract the attention of Lord Edward. My plan to speak with him had involved hiding in the grounds and then finding his chamber which would, no doubt, be guarded. Now that I was in the castle I could see the plan was doomed to fail before it had begun.

  Then, I realised that Lord Edward and his cousin were not heading for the hall, but for the wall of the inner ward. Lord Edward was a bundle of energy; he enjoyed exercise. I assumed that he had been forbidden to ride this day and was walking around the walls instead. I had a chance.

  I turned to head obliquely for the gate leading from the inner ward. I had to time my approach so that I was near them when they were far enough away from the four guards at the gate. As the two prisoners approached the gate, I saw the four guards stiffen. They only relaxed when the two had passed. They were now thirty paces from me, and I saw Lord Edward look up at me as I was nearing them. Recognition dawned on his face. Despite my beard, I had not changed enough to fool someone who knew me well. He said something to Henry of Almain, and they slowed. I saw Henry sit on the edge of a water trough and take off his boot.

  Lord Edward grinned when I neared him. He spoke to me, although it was quietly done. “You have given me hope, Gerald War Bow!”

  “Lord, I must be quick. There is a plan to rescue you!” I quickly gave him the plan, acutely aware that the four guards at the gate were watching us. Even while I was speaking, I knew that I would need to concoct a story to get by them, or I could be incarcerated too.

  “That is a good plan, but we must hold it in abeyance. Simon de Montfort’s son comes this night, and tomorrow I am to be taken to London. There, we will be in the Tower.”

  Henry Almain had donned his boot and moved towards us.

  “Have my friends keep watch. While I am in the Tower I cannot escape, but if I am moved then we put this plan into operation.” I nodded and he smiled. “Thank you, Gerald, for your loyalty. It will not be forgotten, nor will the ills we have suffered. Tell those who plan this that I mistrust many of my nobles, but you I trust. If I do not see you when I am rescued then I will not go, for I will fear a trap.”

  Henry Almain said, “You had better go, archer, the guards are suspicious.”

  I headed for the gate and saw the four guards fingering their weapons. I had decided to play the country bumpkin. The sergeant drew his dagger and placed it at my throat. “Harry, search him and his cloak.”

  As the cloak was taken from me and hands groped me, I adopted an astonished expression. “What is wrong, sir? I have delivered fowl to the steward.”

  “And what were you saying to the prisoner?”

  I grinned, making myself look simple. “Sir, I know that you great soldiers get to meet lords all the time, but I am a poor yeoman. How many times will I get the chance to meet the future King of England? When I get back to my village I will drink for a month on the strength of these stories!”

  The man called Harry shook his head when he had searched me. The dagger was withdrawn and the sergeant asked me, “What did he say to you?”

  I screwed up my face and said, “That is the strange thing, sir, he sought my opinion. He asked me what the ordinary men thought of the way his father, the king, had been treated.”

  The sergeant’s eyes narrowed. “And what did you tell him?”

  I shrugged. “That we thought what our lords told us, for to do else would be foolish.”

  He nodded and gestured for me to leave. “If you come back here, I will be watching for you.”

  I grinned again. “Do not worry, sir. When I have had the ale I am due in the tavern, I will head home while the story is still fresh in my head. I would tell my father the words Prince Edward used!”

  The sergeant laughed. “He is not a prince and will never be a king. The days of kings in this land are over!”

  I had to go to the alehouse, for to do other would have aroused suspicion. The man called Rafe was waiting for me within. “Did you find your cousin?”

  I spied David in the corner and shook my head so that he would not try to join me, then turned my signal to David into a negative answer to the fowl man. “He was sent ahead to London. A shame, for I hoped he might get me a position at the castle.”

  “And tomorrow
the castle will just have a tiny garrison. You came too late, my friend, for it has been well garrisoned since last summer. What will you do?”

  “Head for London! It seems that is where men gather now.”

  “Aye, the Earl of Leicester rules this land now, and he has the support of the men of London. You do right, friend.”

  When the ale was done, I left. I was just 300 paces from the alehouse when David caught up with me. “Well, Captain?”

  I told him and he said, “Then this was a wasted journey.”

  “The opposite, for Lord Edward thinks he will be moved from the Tower eventually, and when he is then this plan succeeds. We will have to stay one more day, but then Jack can have a miraculous recovery and we return to Wigmore Castle.”

  We were still heading for the village of Brightwell when we heard the arrival of the young de Montfort. He was enjoying his moment, for he had banners, heralds and a veritable wagon train with him. I knew not why the castellan had laid in supplies, for it looked as though Simon de Montfort had brought enough to feed the county.

  We left the next day and, with brightening skies, rode harder than we had when we headed west. It was with some surprise that we met the Earl of Gloucester and his household knights. They were heading towards the London road. He reined in but waved away all of his men and mine. I would tell my men all, that was my way, but the earl was a plotter and a secretive man.

  “What have you learned, archer?” He was blunt to the point of rudeness.

  I told him of the imminent departure of Lord Edward and he looked downcast. “So, it all begins to make sense. I was summoned to Westminster for a meeting on 11 March at Westminster Hall. Now events come to a head. Our plan, it seems, was conceived too late. You had best make all speed to Baron Mortimer. He will need to know that our plans are in tatters.”

  And with that, I was dismissed.

  We rode as hard after the meeting with the earl, for we now had a better idea of the purpose of the removal of the prisoners. When we reached the castle the baron and Lady Maud were waiting for me in the inner ward; they must have seen our approach. “The Earl of Gloucester has been summoned to London. Our plans lie in ruins unless you can tell us that you delivered the message.”

  I said, “Shall we speak indoors, my lord?”

  Lady Maud smiled. “Lord Edward’s archer seems to understand the situation better than we do. We will do as you ask, Captain.”

  Once in the Great Hall, all were dismissed save for their sons. “I met with Lord Edward, and he approves of the plan but…” I paused, I was learning how to be a storyteller, “he left the following day for London. I believe that the Earl of Leicester has called this meeting to announce something which involves the king and his son.”

  The baron paled. “Execution? Regicide?”

  Lady Maud dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “If that was the case then it would be done in secret. The fact that all the great nobles have been invited tells us that there is still hope. Continue, Gerald.” There was the hint of censure for her husband in her tone.

  “Lord Edward believes that he will be sent to the Tower before being moved somewhere else and, when that happens, we are to be close to hand, and he will follow our plan as it was intended.” They both nodded. “There is one more thing. Lord Edward no longer knows whom to trust. If he does not see me at the rescue then he will assume it is a trap.”

  The baron became agitated. “But we have risked all for this plan!”

  Lady Maud smiled and nodded. “Husband, put yourself in Lord Edward’s shoes. Can he trust de Clare? John de Warenne abandoned him at Lewes. Of all the leaders only you and Henry of Almain, also a prisoner, are to be trusted, but you are too easily recognized, and if you were seen close to Lord Edward’s next gaol then they would guard him even more closely. I can well understand him trusting this archer. Have we seen anything in his behaviour that suggests anything other than loyalty?”

  “You are right.”

  “And remember this, when Edward is king it is the likes of us who will reap the reward of estates and lands, not Gerald War Bow.” Her husband had not thought it through to its logical end. Lady Maud smiled. “However, Gerald, I shall not forget you, and I will make certain that you are rewarded.”

  The next two weeks were dull, and that was a relief. We were stuck on the edge of England, far from the events in London. We had little to do except to practise. The new archers had built in strength and could now send an arrow almost as far as the rest of us. Peter had improved. Within two years he would be able to handle a much longer bow. We ate well, we slept and we prepared for the rescue.

  It was the last week in March when life became a little more interesting. The Welsh at Builth Castle had not been happy with our treatment of their farmers. I learned that the knight I wounded was a local baron, Iago ap Rhodri. Baron Mortimer kept men watching his borders, and his farmers, grateful for our intervention, told us much about their activities. The baron heard that Sir Iago planned another chevauchée. It was ill-conceived, for it was common knowledge along the border. Knowing that the Welsh planned to raid, Sir Roger worked out where that raid would begin. The best place for horses and horsemen to advance was towards the stream where he had been wounded in winter. Accordingly, the baron called out the fyrd. They owed him forty days’ service, and as he had not used them in winter, he used them now.

  It brought us forty men. Unlike the English variety, these Welsh men knew how to use a bow, and more than three quarters brought their own. While their other weapon skills were poor, their archery was good. We mustered on the ridge which lay on the English side of the small river. Technically it was Welsh territory, but the farmers who had farmed that side of the river had been forced to flee by our attack.

  I had worked during the winter with Evan who led the baron’s archers. The baron had hired more, and we now had a sizeable company of archers. I would command them all. When I had first arrived, Evan had been sceptical of me, but that was due to my age. Now, as we waited for the raid, we sat together. He was happy for my company; we spoke and chewed on liquorice roots.

  “What you have to understand, Captain, is that this is not England. It is the Marches. Kings and princes might make peace, sign treaties and accords, but here they don’t matter at all. We raid them and they raid us. It is a way of life. We usually win, but there are English slaves in Wales as well as Welsh slaves here in England, and it does not sit well with us.” He turned to look at me and offered some advice. “When you aim, aim to kill. There is little to be gained from taking a hostage in any case. The Welsh are poor as church mice. The baron, he might take a prisoner, but not for ransom, he would take a hostage just to keep them honest!”

  The Welsh came at dawn. Perhaps they thought they might sneak across the border and raid us while we were asleep. We were all awake, although many men lay down to rest.

  Evan had brought dogs and they growled. He hissed, “Stand to!” The message was passed from man to man, the stream covering any noise we made.

  The archers and the fyrd had rested in the clothes they were wearing, but the men at arms, the baron, his sons and his squire had to don mail. We lined the ridge with strung bows but no arrows nocked. We were behind the fyrd because we had a longer range and could release above the men armed with hunting bows. When the men at arms were mailed, they would form their lines to the right of us. The fyrd knew they had to bear the brunt of the attack, but we knew we had the advantage; the enemy would not know that we were here and waiting for them. I heard their horses, for one neighed as it was pulled back when it descended the slope. I hoped the baron would hurry – for if he was not present then I would have to give the command to release.

  “Nock!”

  The professional archers nocked war bows while the fyrd nocked their hunting bows. Their arrows would not pierce mail, but the Welsh would bring their fyrd, too.

  I heard jingling mail behind me. The decision would now be the baron’s. “Can you see
them, Captain?”

  “No, my lord, but from the noise of their hooves I think they are descending the road to the water.”

  “Is that in range?”

  “It is.”

  “Good, then when you hear them in the water, order the arrows. Give them five flights and then we will attack. Evan, lead the fyrd and our archers to follow us.”

  It was not the plan I would have used, but it seemed a reasonable one, and the baron knew his enemy better than I did. An archer learns to feel an enemy, to sense when they are close. My senses told me that they were almost at the water. I took a risk. “Draw!”

  My men could hold their powerful bows longer than the fyrd. I could not risk a premature arrow. I heard the first splash and then a second as the Welsh entered the water.

  “Release!” Even while the arrows were in the air and starting their descent I said, louder this time, “Draw!

  I did not wait more than a moment for the next command. “Release.”

  The arrows of the fyrd were irregular in comparison with ours, but it did not matter. Men lifted shields and then moved forward when the arrows had struck. The tardy fyrd kept the arrows falling. I heard men scream as war arrows tore into flesh and the chink as arrows hit helmets and mail. For the mailed men we would use bodkins – but I would not waste a valuable arrow on speculation. When I saw mail, then I would use a bodkin.

  A Welsh voice shouted something I guessed was, ‘Charge!’

  I sent two more war arrows at the mass of men who were still just a shadow moving towards us and then drew a bodkin, for I saw, charging up from the water, mailed men. My company all had bodkins nocked. Mine went into the chest of one of the knights. My arrow had a flat trajectory, and as he was struggling up the bank, he struggled to get his shield up. His cantle held his dying body in the saddle. We had each sent our five arrows, and so I dropped my bow and drew my sword.

  Evan shouted, “Men of Wigmore! For England and King Henry!” He drew his sword and hurtled down the slope. We had stopped their horsemen, and the baron was charging into their flank. It was a battle fought in the dark, for dawn was still a little way away. It would be all too easy to slay a friend as well as foe.