Caging the Lyon

by H A CULLEY

  As he was still admiring the design of the castle a man in his fifties came out of a small door at the base of the wall and strode towards him. He was followed by a small woman perhaps fifteen years younger than him and a tall man in his twenties. Edward, Blanche, Tristan and David dismounted and handed the reins to several boys who came running over from the stables. Blanche went up to their hosts and embraced each in turn. Then she introduced Edmund, his wife and their eldest son, Callum, to her husband.

  ‘Welcome to Craigmor my lord.’ Edmund gave a brief nod of his head as he spoke.

  ‘Thank you Edmund. I’m only sorry that we meet at such a sad time.’

  ‘Aye, I’ll miss Guy terribly but I take comfort from the fact that he has now been released from the pain he suffered for the past few years.’

  ‘You must tell me the story of how you and he first met later, Blanche tells me it is quite a tale, but for now we would like to go to our chamber and then perhaps you would be kind enough to show me around the castle.’

  ‘By all means, my lord.’

  ‘And please call me Edward.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ Both men smiled. ‘Yes, Edward. Thank you.’

  The following day Baron Guy FitzRichard de Cuille of Craigmor, sometime governor and constable of Berwick upon Tweed and sheriff of Berwickshire, was laid to rest in the graveyard next to the parish church in the village of Craigmor. It was a bright sunny day for the ceremony and it would have been hot were it not for the cool breeze that blew in from the sea. Over two hundred people came for the funeral including Patrick, earl of Dunbar, who had succeeded his father, Waltheof, the previous year. Richard and Miles had also travelled up from Northumberland. Miles was now approaching twenty one and Richard intended to knight him shortly. His mother, Marianne, had taken over the management of the manor of Byrness after her husband was killed but Miles would become lord of the manor as soon as he reached his majority.

  Richard was fairly certain that the man who had escaped on the day that Miles father had been killed was Waldo Cuille; it was no secret that Waldo thought that Robert was the man who had murdered his own father and he had threatened to kill him. Who else could it be?

  Everyone who knew him had mourned Robert, especially Marianne and Miles, but John Little had taken his death harder than anyone. The day after Robert’s funeral he had set out on his own to find Waldo and bring him to account. Richard, Marianne and Miles had all tried to dissuade him but nothing they could say made any difference.

  No-one had heard from John Little after he rode down Redesdale and out of sight.

  ~#~

  Henry Plantagenet’s sons had been feuding openly for some time. They were all jockeying for position and power as the king got older. He was now fifty and beginning to tire of the incessant warfare that seemed to have been his lot ever since he was fourteen. Philip Augustus of France made the situation worse, of course. It was in his interest to fuel the discord in order to weaken the power of Henry’s empire on the continent and strengthen his own position. Henry’s eldest son, Henry the Young King, wasn’t a strong character and he was jealous of his brother Richard in particular. He became involved in the intrigues of a group of dissatisfied barons in Richard’s dukedom of Aquitaine and a war between the two royal princes broke out. The one person who might have been able to diffuse the situation, William Marshal, had left the younger Henry’s service in 1182, some say because of a growing romance between Marshal and Henry’s wife, Margaret, and others because Henry was jealous of Marshal’s prowess as a tournament knight.

  As open warfare broke out in Aquitaine King Henry decided to intervene and talk some sense into his eldest son. He set forth with a small escort for Limoges, where the Young King was based but, as he drew near the town, the sentries sounded the alarm mistaking the king’s banner for that of Prince Richard. A volley of arrows hit the king’s party and one of his knights was killed. Henry himself had a lucky escape when a crossbow quarrel hit his horse. Henry retreated to Richard’s stronghold of Aixe, furious at the attack on his person, and he gave up all thoughts of trying to broker peace between his sons. He now sided openly with Richard against the young Henry.

  Phillip of France seized the opportunity to send in a force of mercenaries who sacked several towns in the Limousin area of Aquitaine and massacred the inhabitants. The conflagration spread and soon the king and his son Richard on one side were fighting a full scale war against Henry the Young King and Phillip of France on the other. John Little had reached

  Henry the elder had always kept Henry the younger short of money - one of the bones of contention between them - but now this policy was to prove of value. Both sides employed mercenaries but the Young King was running short of money to pay his so he started to pillage churches and monasteries. Then in late May 1183 the Young King went down with dysentery and rapidly weakened. On 11th June he died. Many people regarded this as divine retribution for his attacks on the houses of God.

  His death changed the political situation dramatically. His supporters found themselves without a figurehead for the revolt and the Limousin was quickly recaptured by Henry and Richard. Then Henry made another classic mistake in dealing with his sons. As Richard had now become Henry’s heir, the king decided to transfer Aquitaine to his youngest son and his favourite, John. As a result Henry found himself at war with his new heir, just as he had been with the last one.

  ~#~

  John Little had reached Hathersage without incident. This had been his boyhood home. His father had been a fairly wealthy farmer who owned about a quarter of the cultivated land in the manor as well as quite a lot of livestock. In terms of income he had been worth about half that of the lord of the manor. John was now in his early forties so was fairly certain that his parents would be dead but he had a younger brother called Cedric who he assumed would now be the head of the household.

  He arranged accommodation in the village tavern first. He had hoped to have a room to himself but the tavern was full so he had to share with two others, a merchant and his son who were travelling to Nottingham. Seating himself near the fire he ordered a quart of ale and a bowl of stew. When he had finished eating he called across for another ale and, when a skinny young boy brought it over, he asked him if he knew Cedric Little.

  The boy seemed puzzled by the question, but then he pointed to a group of three men sitting over the other side of the taproom drinking and playing dice. ‘That’s Master Little, the fat one.’

  John thanked him and studied his brother. Whereas John had kept himself in shape and had better stamina than many a man half his age, his younger brother had a belly as round as a barrel and the jowls hanging from his chin wobbled when he spoke. When Cedric eventually hauled himself to his feet with some difficulty and weaved his way out of the tavern John followed him. To John’s surprise, instead of heading for his childhood home, Cedric headed in the opposite direction.

  Stumbling occasionally the fat man eventually went into a small single storey dwelling that was little better than a hovel. Time had obviously not been kind to Cedric in more ways than one. The thought crossed John’s mind that perhaps his brother had become overly fond of a game of dice and had proved to be neither lucky nor have the common sense to quit when he was losing.

  He had intended to visit Cedric and find out what had befallen his parents and his sisters but, after what he had seen, John decided that would probably just embarrass his brother. Furthermore there was still a price on John’s head and anyone in such dire straits as Cedric appeared to be might be tempted to betray him for the reward.

  It was therefore unfortunate that the following evening the pot boy had seen fit to point John out to Cedric whilst the former was eating his dinner of meat pie and turnips. Cedric hauled himself to his feet and waddled over to John’s table.

  ‘I want to know why you were asking about me,’ he said belligerently. There were few customers in the tavern but those that were there stopped talking to listen.

 
‘Sit down Cedric and stop drawing attention to yourself. I have a message for you.’

  ‘You have?’ Immediately the aggression was replaced by curiosity. ‘Who from?’ As he sat down the hubbub of conversation in the taproom resumed.

  ‘From John.’

  ‘My brother? I thought he was dead.’ Just as John hadn’t recognised Cedric so his brother didn’t seem to know John at first, though he hadn’t changed nearly as much as the younger man had. Then Cedric looked more closely at the supposed messenger.

  ‘John? Is it you?’ Then as recognition dawned he almost yelled ‘by all that’s holy, John it is you.’

  John groaned. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself, but it was too late.

  ‘Quiet you fool. I’m still a wanted man.’ Annoyance at being told off flitted across Cedric’s face, followed by concern and then by avarice as he recalled the reward. ‘And don’t even think about betraying me or I’ll say you were my willing accomplice and you’ll hang beside me.’

  ‘Of course not, John. How could you think of such a thing? We’re family after all.’

  John wasn’t convinced and he sighed. He would have to leave in the morning and find somewhere else to stay until he could lay an ambush for Waldo. He was so engrossed in his conversation with Cedric that he failed to notice a sly looking man watching him speculatively and then slide out of the door. Once outside the tavern the man set off at a half walk, half run for Castle Peverel and the deputy sheriff.

  ~#~

  King William had finally subdued Galloway and Carrick but now another revolt had sprung up in the north. Donald Meic Uilleim, a direct descendant of King Duncan II of Scots, had laid claim to the throne and this had sparked a rebellion. The one positive result of this was that Donald managed to seize control of Ross and the strategic town of Inverness from the Orcadians.

  ‘The problem is that you are not yet married, sire,’ the high steward told him, and not for the first time. ‘Until you produce an heir uncertainty over the succession will remain a worry.’

  ‘Yes, yes, so you keep telling me, Alan,’ William snapped testily. ‘But until Henry approves my choice of bride I can’t even get betrothed.’ He was referring to one of the clauses of the Treaty of Falaise which allowed Henry to make the choice of wife for William. So far he had declined to do so and had rejected all the proposals put to him by William himself.

  ‘Well, now might be a good opportunity to try again whilst Henry is pre-occupied with the strife within his own family on the Continent. You’re forty this year and we don’t want Scotland ruled by a minor when you die.’

  William thought that Alan FitzWalter could have pointed out his mortality a little more tactfully but he took the point.

  He sighed. ‘You’re right, as usual. Very well, I’m sending you on an embassy to Henry to get this matter resolved once and for all or I’ll go ahead and marry without his permission and you can tell him that. It might galvanise him into a decision.’

  A month later Alan sailed from Dover with an escort of two hundred knights and serjeants. France was a dangerous place and, although Alan was carrying safe conducts from both the chancellor of England and the French ambassador to Scotland there were plenty of bands of routiers roaming the country looking for plunder who respected no authority.

  When he eventually tracked the English king down he was besieging Toulouse with his son, Richard. He had to wait three days before he could get an audience with Henry and, when he did managed to see him, the king continued to prevaricate. Eventually Alan decided that he had had enough of diplomacy and tried the blunt approach.

  ‘Have you considered, you highness, what would happen if King William were to die without an heir? His brother David is also unmarried and there would be a war over the succession. Although you might think that might very well suit English interests, the ultimate winner of such a dispute over the succession might throw up a king who wouldn’t honour the Treaty of Falaise and you could face another invasion of England.’ He paused wondering if he had gone too far. He half expected to provoke one of Henry’s famous rages but instead the king burst out laughing.

  ‘You have a rare way with words FitzWalter. If only all diplomats were so straight with me. Very well, leave me now and I will give the matter some thought. I will send for you when I have made a decision.’

  Alan kicked his heels for a week, spending most of that time studying the English siege techniques.

  ‘You may tell William of Scots that he is betrothed to Ermengarde de Beaumont. My chancellor will make arrangements for the wedding, which will be in England, as soon as possible. You may go.’

  Alan didn’t know whether to be elated or angry. Ermengarde was the sixteen year old daughter of the Viscount de Beaumont, a middle ranking Norman noble. She was hardly a suitable match for a king but at least William now had someone he could beget an heir with.

  Henry had intended to attend the marriage ceremony on the fifth of September 1186 at Woodstock in Oxfordshire but the death of his son Geoffrey, duke of Brittany, at a tournament in Paris three weeks beforehand prevented him. Henry had never liked Geoffrey but his death gave King Philip of France the excuse to demand that Brittany be returned to his direct control. This was to prove yet another bone of contention between the two kings.

  ~#~

  William had intended to put on a good show for King Henry and took a large retinue with him. His brother David wasn’t certain that to parade wealth and power before Henry was such a good idea but William was not to be dissuaded. Edward and Blanche were commanded to attend but Blanche was pregnant again and suffering from morning sickness, so she remained behind at Craigmor. It had been nine years since David had been born and she had suffered a miscarriage since then which she had taken a long time to recover from, so Edward was a little concerned for her health. Had he been able to, he would have stayed in Scotland, but he could hardly refuse the king’s invitation.

  Whilst he was concerned for her, he was glad that Blanche was expecting. Another baby would take her mind off their two sons, who she missed more than she was prepared to admit. Edward had placed Tristan as a page with Hervey de Keith, the marishal, last year and their younger son, David, had just joined the household of Patrick, earl of Dunbar.

  King William was accompanied by five earls, numerous barons and an escort of over a hundred knights. With wives, their ladies, squires, pages and servants the total came to nearly a thousand souls. The tents and camp equipment filled two hundred wagons so progress was hardly brisk. The procession had reached Nottingham when news reached William of Duke Geoffrey’s death and a curt note from King Henry saying he would not be attending after all.

  On the first of September the lumbering cavalcade reached Woodstock to the collective relief of everyone, especially as it had been raining for most of the last week. On the morning of the ceremony the sun put in a re-appearance. William was housed in the palace at Woodstock but everyone else lived in the sodden and muddy tented village that had sprung up around the palace. So when the Scots crammed into the church in their finery, they were somewhat mud splattered, to the amusement of the English lords. William was furious but it couldn’t be helped.

  Edward had sensibly decided to wear hunting boots so he was rather more presentable than most of the Scots nobility, one of whom he noticed with amusement was wearing just one red leather shoe: presumably having lost the other one in the mud. From where he stood Edward couldn’t see the face of the bride when she lifted her veil but her shoulders were shaking slightly and so he deduced that she was sobbing quietly. He couldn’t blame her; she was sixteen whereas her husband was forty three, two and half times as old as she was, they didn’t know each other and she was going away from her family to live in the wilds of the frozen north, or so it would seem to her.

  The ceremony was commendably brief and he saw that he was correct as she exited the church on the arm of her new husband. Ermengarde’s face was probably quite attractive but it was
difficult to tell as she was the picture of abject misery at the moment, something that attracted quite a few unfavourable comments from the Scots present. Edward caught the occasional glimpse of both his sons from time to time but had to resist the temptation to speak to them. To do so in public would be against the code that governed pages and squires. However, Tristan winked at him and he smiled to himself. Both boys looked well and happy. He would have to be content with that. But seeing them just heightened his concern for their mother.

  After the usual boisterous behaviour at the wedding feast and the jocular bedding of husband and wife, which made Scotland’s new queen even more miserable, if anything, Edward returned to his pavilion thankful that the return journey would be a lot quicker than the one south. The king’s household and a sizeable escort would remain to travel with him and his queen in a few days’ time but Edward had been given permission to make his own way back north of the border.

  Miles asked to go via the High Peak to see if they could glean any news of John Little and Edward felt that he could hardly refuse him. He would have preferred to go straight back to Scotland but to display his concern for his wife just because she was expecting again would appear weak.

  Edward had also brought three other knights and six serjeants with him so with squires the group numbered sixteen. This was small enough to enable them to travel quickly but large enough to deter outlaws and the like. When they clattered into Hathersage they made straight for the tavern where they managed to secure two rooms, one with one bed and one with two. The four knights would share the larger room and the serjeants would have to make do with the stables. The squires were used to sleeping on the floor.