by Griff Hosker
“I am not certain that they will be heading north, sir. The rumour is that they go to fight Lord Edward, and he is to the west of us.”
“Nonetheless, we will leave tonight.” I gave him a smile. “And then we will not upset your bedding arrangements!”
“Oh no, sir, I meant no harm, and...”
“We were ready to leave. We conclude our business this morning and we shall leave after noon.”
We had not discovered the army’s next port of call, but it would be to the west, and we could follow them. We made our last purchases: bread, good cheese, two ale skins, oatcakes and some sweetmeats. I had felt guilty about eating and dining so well while my men endured cold comfort in the woods, and the purchases were for them.
We made certain we were not followed and headed up the Great North Road. Once it was convenient, we took the first track which led west and found ourselves in our camp well before dark. Our men, not least Jack, were relieved to see us. They enjoyed the food and ale we had brought.
“We need to be ready to ride first thing in the morning. So, get to sleep early. The day of reckoning is nigh.”
The scouts ahead of the army alerted us to its presence the next day. Jack and the others had not wasted their time, and they led us by hidden paths and trails so that we kept ahead of them. We knew where the roads had junctions or forks, and once the scouts had passed them, we hurried on.
We used farms and fields to disguise our movements. We rode further than the army of young Simon, but we kept hidden. It soon became apparent, to me at least, that we were heading for Kenilworth. It was a mighty castle defended upon one side by a lake, and it was close enough to Worcester to strike at Lord Edward and his army. Most importantly, it was the gaol of Richard of Cornwall. When we were just five miles from Kenilworth, and as the afternoon was almost through, I took a chance. “John, I leave you in command. I will ride to Lord Edward. I will take Tom with me. Find a camp to the west of the castle.”
“And if it is not the Castle of Kenilworth that is the young de Montfort’s target?”
“Then I am wrong – but I do not think I will be! They will not reach it until late, and there is nowhere twixt here and Kenilworth that they could use. They will be weary and, I hope, will stay there tomorrow to rest their horses.” I had noticed that there was little grazing. If the young Montfort intended to attack Lord Edward then he would need fresh horses. “If they move then send word to me at Worcester unless I have already returned.”
Once Tom and I were ahead of the scouts we used the road and made good time. We reached Worcester after dark. I went directly to Lord Edward’s quarters. He, Henry Almain, de Clare and Mortimer were seated around a table and were drinking wine. Lord Edward looked up expectantly.
“Well?”
“They are at Kenilworth. They will be camping even as we speak. They have knights and men at arms.”
He stood and, placing his hands on my shoulders, said, “You are the best of men!” He turned to the others. “I want our destination kept secret, so tell the men that we ride north tomorrow. I want only knights and men at arms.”
De Clare said, “And what of the Earl of Leicester?”
“We have two armies we need to fight. One, to the west of us, waits for our attack. The other, to the east, knows nothing of our intelligence. We risk leaving the river unguarded, but I will have Sir John de Warenne command the rest of the army, and I will speak with him before we leave.” He turned again to me. “And your men?”
“They watch the enemy.”
“Good, then get some rest. You and Tom shall lead us to Kenilworth, and you will ride to glory with us!”
We had all day to rest. It was in the late afternoon when the trumpets sounded and men mounted their horses. None were mailed, but squires had sumpters with war gear upon them. Any spies watching would have been confused as to our purpose.
I rode with Lord Edward, Baron Mortimer and the Earl of Gloucester. If the people of Worcester wondered why an archer rode with such noble lords, they were not alone, for I saw some strange looks from the men we left in camp. Once we reached Droitwich we turned northeast and took the Kenilworth Road. Night came late in early August.
I sent Tom ahead when we neared Kenilworth, and he returned to lead us to a valley not far from the castle. With him rode John of Nottingham.
“My lord, the enemy host is camped outside Kenilworth. They have few sentries!”
“Then now is the time to don our armour!”
It seemed a noisy affair as men put on mail and, in some cases, plate. Some horses wore mail too. John of Nottingham assured me that we were too far from Kenilworth for them to hear.
Lord Edward was ready first, and he rode up to me. “As a reward for your sterling work, the three of you may join this charge. I have told my men that we do not bother with ransom. When this war is over, we shall simply take the castles and the lands from their heirs. They have rebelled, and that will be the price they pay!” When he became king, he would be ruthless. That day showed me that he had changed since first I met him.
That ride through the Kenilworth camp was not war, it was slaughter. I had never entered a battle from the back of a horse and yet, that night, it was the easiest fight I had ever had. I had no shield and needed none, for the men who rose from their tents simply grabbed any weapon they had to face us. The first knight I slew saw just my sword as it swept towards his head. His hand did not even rise to block the blow. The sword seemed to have a life of its own as it rose and fell, slicing open skulls, tearing open faces and hacking through necks.
The knights who rode behind Lord Edward had even more success, for they knew what they were doing. Eleanor, too, was in her element; she snapped and bit at all that she saw. I had a strong right arm, but it rose and fell so many times that I felt as though I had loosed a hundred arrows.
By the time we were halfway through the camp, the knights had broken. Many had run towards the castle while others threw themselves into the lake or the river. Lord Edward ordered us to turn, and we galloped through the camp. My archers had followed us and, with their bows, they picked off fleeing knights.
Dawn came early in August, and it broke over a grisly sight. The camp was filled with the felled flowers of young knights. Many fled inside the castle, and we captured ten knights and their horses. Of Simon Montfort the Younger there was no sign, but it mattered not. The army he had promised his father had been shattered. We had not slain all of them, I only counted the bodies of sixty knights, but his men at arms were totally destroyed.
Lord Edward led us back towards Worcester, along with the captured knights, in chains. We were at my archers’ camp and feeding our horses when he said to me, “Gerald, I want two of your archers to watch the camp at Kenilworth. We have not destroyed this army, but it is hurt. Let us use what’s left. They know where de Montfort will be meeting his father. When your men know the direction, then send to me.”
I nodded and waved over Tom and Jack. I gave them their instructions. “Is this not over, Captain?”
I shook my head. “We have had a victory, but so long as Simon de Montfort lives it will never be over. We must trust to Lord Edward and to God! As soon as the survivors regroup and move, then let me know.”
Once we were all ready, we headed back towards Worcester. I could see now that Lord Edward was planning ahead. He was keeping this part of his army moving so that he could react to whatever the enemy did next.
We stopped at Alcester where we fed our horses and ourselves. Some slept, but I could not, for I was haunted by the images of butchered bodies. Lord Edward found me grooming Eleanor.
“You are troubled, Gerald?”
I nodded. “I am an archer and I do not see the arrows as they bite into flesh. Last night I killed men and watched the life leave their eyes. I butchered men and boys who could not defend themselves.”
“Yet you killed fewer than had you used a bow.”
I nodded. “I know, there is no sense to
it, but…”
“I have placed much on your shoulders and you are still young, but we must show steel and then we shall have England back under the control of my family, and that is all that matters!”
We rested during the day, for we had endured a hard ride. Messengers arrived from the west with the news that Simon de Montfort had crossed the river. I was close by Lord Edward, and I thought he would have been angry, but he was not. He appeared calm and reflective. It was almost as though he had expected the news. It was de Clare who reacted angrily.
“Were the fools not watching? We were fighting our enemies, and all that they had to do was to watch!”
The messenger was a young knight, one of John de Warenne’s men. “My lord, that is unfair. We had all the crossing points watched!”
“Then how did he evade you?”
“It was the day after St Peter in the Chains, and the river was unusually low. He and his army waded across close to Kempsey. It was not a crossing point, my lord. None was watching it.”
Lord Edward held his hand up; he looked like a priest giving his blessing. “Peace, it is done now. He is across the Severn and his son is at Kenilworth. We are between them. They have men they use as I used Gerald War Bow and his men; they will head for each other. When we know where young Simon leads his men then we will know where we fight this battle. De Clare, go to Worcester and fetch the rest of my army.”
“Where to, my lord?”
He smiled. “In truth, I do not know.” He looked at the young knight. “You say he crossed close to Kempsey?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Then, de Clare, you head south and east along the road to Oxford. Parallel his line of march and stop him moving due east. If he can combine with his son then that will give him the chance to hold until he is reinforced by more men from the Midlands. I will do the same with his son. I will not wait for you word, Gerald.”
“My lord, you divide your army!”
I saw him nod. “I am learning, my lord, that with great power comes great responsibility. Now ride. We will also begin to move. We will head south and west.”
De Clare and his horsemen left us. I hoped that Lord Edward knew what he was doing. The only archers with him were my men, but he had Captain William’s men at arms, along with those of Baron Mortimer. I did not know how many men de Montfort had, but he had had almost a fortnight to gather men and prepare for this battle.
It was getting on for the middle of the afternoon when Jack of Lincoln rode in. He threw himself from his horse. “My lord, the young lord lives, and he is leading men from Kenilworth. They are taking the road to Stratford. They are heading in this direction. Tom follows them, and he will ride to us if they change their route.”
Lord Edward quickly grabbed a nearby map. I was close enough, with Jack, to see what he did. He put one finger from his right hand on one part of the map and a finger from his left hand on another and moved them towards each other. He beamed at us. “Evesham! They are heading to Evesham! Baron Mortimer, we ride. Send a rider to de Clare and tell him: Evesham!”
Chapter 16
Lord Edward turned to me. “Take your men and ride to Evesham. I need to know the lie of the land before the battle.”
“Aye, lord.”
It was only seven miles to Evesham and we made it before dusk. We had seen no other riders on the road, and that was not a surprise. If an enemy had been in the vicinity, they would have had to pass Worcester, which lay between Wales and the rest of our army.
A small farmhouse lay just off the Twyford road; we smelled the smoke and heard the cow lowing to be milked. We dismounted and tethered our horses there. The farmer came to speak with us. He looked fearful and barely opened the door.
“Friend,” I said, “there will be a battle here. I pray to God that my lord, Lord Edward, is victorious, but I cannot promise. If you have somewhere you could shelter it would be better for you and your family.”
He opened the door wide and spread his arms. We could see his wife and children. “But sir, my farm!”
I smiled. “Will not be touched. You have my word, and I am Captain Gerald War Bow, Lord Edward’s archer.” He looked reluctant still. “I was at Lewes, and I know that even the finest of soldiers can lose his head in battle. When men have the battle lust in their eyes then it can blind them. You would not wish to put your family in harm’s way, would you?”
He shook his head in a resigned manner. Farmers knew exactly what soldiers were like after a battle. “No, sir. My brother has a farm at Lenchwick. I will go there.”
Despite the urgency, I saw that he still took his milk cow, and his wife and children carried boxes of their valuables. He had not totally believed my oath, and I did not blame him. If I was dishonest, I could have sounded equally sincere.
“Peter, put the horses in the barn. Tomorrow you will be kept busy fetching us arrows.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“John, come with me. The rest of you, prepare food. Tomorrow, we will fight.”
A village and bridge across the Avon lay to the south of the farm, with a hill above them. John and I climbed to the top of it. August sunsets could last a long time but the shadows cast could be confusing. I saw the abbey to the east of the village church and I saw, in the village, armed men moving around. There were no banners, which meant they were not knights – but the scouts of de Montfort’s army were there, for light reflected from helmets and mail. Lord Edward had been right.
John and I lay down and I looked back behind the hill. As at Lewes, there was dead ground the other side. When we had walked from the farm, we had not seen the village. The enemy were in Evesham and, looking up the hill, they would not see Lord Edward and his men as they approached down the Alcester road. I looked back to Evesham. Simon de Montfort was planning to head up the road to meet his son, probably at Alcester. It was a clever plan, but Lord Edward had, I hoped, thwarted it; he had half of his army between the father and son.
I could see that the bridge was a narrow one. If de Montfort fought here and we secured the dead ground, he would have an uphill struggle, and his line of retreat would be difficult. The late afternoon sun showed me that the ground was flat, but there was a slope from the river up to the hill. It was almost the reverse of the situation at Lewes. There, King Henry had been trapped against a river and the Earl of Leicester had the advantage of height and dead ground.
John pointed. “Captain, look!” There were horsemen heading up the road which led from the village.
“Fetch the men and my bow. We cannot let them see this dead ground. We must take out these archers.”
“Aye, Captain, but they are Welsh archers. This will not be easy!”
“John, we have trained our company. We are better.”
He disappeared, leaving me alone. I saw that there were twelve horsemen. Even as I looked, I saw more men arriving in the village, across the narrow bridge. If they headed up the road as well then we might struggle to contain them.
Lord Edward, Mortimer and de Clare would not reach the hill until dawn. We had to keep the enemy at bay until then. It was obvious that de Montfort had forced a march. If we had not raided at Kenilworth then they would already be combined. Perhaps Lord Edward had been unerringly correct in all his decisions; he was behaving and acting like a king. We had needed the slaughter to avoid a repeat of the disaster at Lewes.
My men scurried up the hill and John gave me my bow.
“We use war arrows. Tomorrow we will need every bodkin we can muster, and more. There are twelve horsemen and they are archers, but they are riding. It will take them time to nock an arrow. We wait at the bottom of the hill so that when they pass by, we can pluck them from their saddles.”
I led them down the slope. We could hear them talking as they moved up the road on their horses. It was obvious that they did not expect to see anyone, for they sounded relaxed. They were, as John had said, Welsh. David the Welshman knew their words and he whispered, “They are saying t
hat they hope they find a farm with a comfortable farmer’s wife!”
Had we not arrived then the poor farmer and his family would have lost more than a milk cow. I nocked an arrow as the horses’ hooves drew closer. There were nine of us, and we stood in a line with two paces between each of us. The sun was setting in the west, which meant that it was in our eyes – but that also meant that we were in shadow. As they passed us, we would release. They were riding in pairs and that meant there would be just six targets for our nine arrows. The other six would dismount and nock their own arrows. With their horses as a barrier, they would have the advantage. Even as the first horses rode up the road, I was planning what to do when that happened.
These were scouts. I expected them to be as good as us but they were not, for they did not have their version of Tom riding ahead. Even so, they were archers, with an archer’s sense of danger. Before the last horseman was level with our last man, Jack of Lincoln, they had spied us. A Welsh voice shouted the alarm.
“Release!”
I was at the fore of my men and I sent my arrow at the left-hand man in the column. David the Welshman took the one next to him. Both were knocked from their saddles, and their horses, frightened by the smell of blood and their falling riders, galloped up the road. The two leaders were down. Five more men were hit by my archers, for they were so close that we could not miss – and then a Welsh voice shouted an order.
Dropping my bow, I unsheathed my sword. “John, with me!”
The milling horses of the fallen archers, and the fact that the five survivors had dismounted, meant there were no targets for us at the front. I did not want news of our presence to reach Evesham: the Welsh archers had to be taken.
The horses hid us. I could hear the Welsh jabbering but their words meant nothing to me. Three arrows soared over their horses. They were releasing blind, and the arrows would be silhouetted against the last rays of the setting sun; my men would see them. Two archers were just drawing when John and I appeared next to them. They were quick and turned their bows towards us. We were archers and knew the danger we faced. With swinging swords we charged them, and our blades broke their bows in two as they tried to use them to strike us. My sword took the right hand of one archer and I back swung my blade to hack into his chest. John’s blow had not only broken the bow, it had sliced across the archer’s throat. Our charge made the fallen men’s horses move up the road towards the other horses and, as they did so, six arrows flew and the last three Welshmen died.
