The Bastard's Crown

by H A CULLEY

  The second solved the problem of his future employment. He hadn’t given a thought to the man he had risked his life to save near Mont St. Michel. The last he had seen of him had been when he was being tended after his ordeal in the quicksand. The messenger had apparently been seeking him for some time, not knowing where he was. Hugo opened the sealed parchment, scanned the message, arranged for the messenger to be fed and went in search of Roland.

  ‘Pack everything; we’re on the move again!’

  Roland stopped currying Hugo’s destrier and looked at him blankly. ‘Move? Where to?’

  ‘Domfront.’ Hugo forced himself to calm down. ‘Wait. Let me start at the beginning. Have you heard of William Talvas?’

  ‘Yes, he is the lord of Belleme.’

  ‘And of Domfront, and since we recaptured that town, of Alencon as well. Well he died a few months ago and his heiress is Mabel de Belleme, the wife of Roger de Montgomery.’ He paused.

  ‘I’m sorry Sir Hugo but I don’t understand how this helps our position.’

  ‘Stop butting in and I’ll explain. You remember the knight I saved from the quicksand?’ He saw Roland was about to interrupt again so he ploughed on quickly. ‘Well he’s Sir Alymer de Belleme, Mabel’s cousin. She has just appointed him as constable of Domfront Castle.’

  ‘So are we going there to seek employment?’

  ‘Better than that, a messenger has just arrived offering me a place in his mesnie.’

  Three days later they arrived at Domfront and sat looking at the great square keep which dominated the small town. Many of the castles that dotted the duchy were constructed of timber. A few, like Caen, were now being converted, albeit slowly, to stone. However, the great donjon at Domfront had been built in stone from the start. They rode through a wooden gate in the palisade that surrounded the donjon and into the bailey.

  Sir Aylmer was shorter than Hugo and about ten years older. He had a round face that reminded Hugo of the pumpkins he had once seen growing in a field. Aylmer greeted him like a long lost brother.

  ‘My dear Hugo, you don’t know how pleased I am to see you so I can thank you in person for saving my life. You are most welcome, and your squire of course.’

  ‘Sir Aylmer, we are delighted to be here. This is Roland, by the way.’

  ‘Come, let’s get to know each other over a glass of wine whilst Roland gets your things sorted out.’ He turned to a man who had appeared with two stable boys. ‘Ah Ewart, good. Roland can go with Ewart to get your horses settled. Fine destrier, by the way; the palfrey’s not bad either and I’m a good judge of horseflesh.’ His eyes drifted to the packhorse but he obviously decided that to comment on a hack was not something a knight could be expected to do.

  He led the way up the wooden steps into the massive donjon at first floor level. The great hall occupied the whole floor except for an area at the other side from the door. Hugo later learned that this hid a serving area and the chapel. The ground floor housed the kitchens and store rooms. Two large fireplaces were set into the walls to left and right but they were not in use on a summer’s day. Hugo thought that perhaps they should be as it was distinctly chilly, despite the warm sunshine outside.

  Aylmer made his way to the high table and invited Hugo to sit beside him. A servant appeared and Hugo was introduced to the seneschal, who was responsible for the domestic management of the castle. The latter sent one of the two boys who had accompanied him to fetch wine and the other to inform Aylmer’s wife, that Sir Hugo had arrived.

  She was a plump girl of about Hugo’s age who arrived with two children clinging to her skirts. One was a boy of about six and the other a girl of perhaps four. After a few minutes polite conversation the two children started to get bored and kept climbing onto their father’s lap then pulling at their mother’s skirts, wanting to go back to the solar to play. It was evident to Hugo that the children were overindulged by both parents.

  ‘You know the history of Domfront, of course?’

  ‘A little. I know that it stands on the border between Maine and Normandy and both claimed it until Duke William captured it in 1053 and ejected William Talvas de Belleme.’

  ‘My father’s half-brother, yes. It was built by his father, my grandfather. Then, when the Angevins were expelled from Maine he petitioned the duke to restore it and Alencon to him but the duke only allowed him Alencon. This castle remained a ducal stronghold until his daughter inherited.’

  ‘I was sorry to hear of William Talvas’s death a few months ago.’

  Aylmer snorted. ‘No you weren’t. No-one was. Talvas was a scheming man whose only merit was that he always chose the wrong side so none of his plotting got him anywhere. Luckily his daughter, Mabel, is more fortunate.’

  ‘The duke’s garrison left a month ago.’ He went on ‘which was when I took over as constable. Since them I have had to recruit a new seneschal and a marshal for the horses – Ewart, who you met. My wife brought her maid and a nursery maid with her, of course. But the garrison is my next task. That’s where you come in.’

  Hugo looked at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘Me, Sir Aylmer? I understood you were offering me a position in your mesnie.’

  ‘Well, that’s just it. There is no mesnie as yet. We are the only two knights permanently here, though there should be two more at any one time serving their knight’s service of six weeks per annum which is due for the estates that they hold from the Lady de Belleme, plus the sergeants and men-at-arms. I brought twenty five soldiers with me – a mixture of mounted sergeants, men-at-arms and archers but I have permission to recruit twenty five more plus four more household knights.’

  ‘Where are you going to recruit these?’ Hugo was beginning to wonder why Aylmer was taking him into his confidence so much.

  ‘Not my problem, Sir Hugo, it’s yours; you are the captain of the garrison and so it is your first task once you have sorted out the sentry rotas for those who are here.’

  Over the next few days Hugo got to know the men of the garrison and appointed a training officer and a watch officer. Then he and Roland accompanied by two sergeants rode out to each of the estates who owed knight’s service and agreed with them the period they would do their duty at the castle.

  By the time he returned from the last round of visits he was tired and saddle-sore. He rode through the gate and was pleased to see that the two sentries were alert and well turned out. He stopped to commend them so Roland and the sergeants rode in ahead of him.

  ‘Tristan, what are you doing here.’ Hugo’s head shot round at Roland’s delighted cry. His barely had time to register that the knight who had just dismounted in front of the keep was indeed Tristan before Roland embraced him. He dismounted and walked over.

  ‘Roland is that any way to show your respect for a knight.’ Hugo chided him before smiling broadly and gripping Tristan’s shoulders in welcome.

  ‘It’s really good to see you again. When did you receive the accolade.’

  ‘Last year. Nothing simple like a slap from the duke for me though. I had the full works; the night’s vigil and the girding on of my sword before Lord Peverel gave me the buffet – or rather two, one for each cheek. The viscount said I could remain with his mesnie for a while until something turned up, but I knew it was only temporary.’ He saw Hugo’s appraising glance and turned to look at the courser and his armour on the packhorse being held by a rather shy boy of thirteen or fourteen.

  ‘Sir Miles presented me with my armour and sword but I had to purchase my own horses and equipment for my squire and, as you know, my father’s estate is a poor one and I am only the second son.’ He shrugged. ‘Which is why I am here; I heard that you might be hiring household knights.’

  The boy handed the courser to a stable lad and followed him to the stables with the packhorse to unload it. Roland nodded to Tristan and followed them with his horse and Hugo’s.

  ‘Come, I’m sure a cup of wine would be welcome to wash the dust from your throat. And you must meet the con
stable and his wife; they will be delighted by your arrival. Who is your squire by the way?’

  ‘Can’t you tell? I’m told the family resemblance is quite marked. It’s my younger brother Ralph. He’s not fourteen for a couple of months yet but he was keen to squire for me and it will keep my mother happy to think I am looking after her youngest.’

  The next few months passed quickly. Three more household knights were recruited and the remainder of the garrison was enlisted. The days were filled with training, providing escorts, sentry duty and hunting. Once a week Hugo, Tristan and Roland slipped away to enjoy themselves at a tavern in Flers, where they weren’t known. Then in September Aylmer told Hugo that Lady Mabel would be visiting Domfront for a week and that he planned a tourney for her enjoyment.

  The next day the seneschal gave him the bad news that his chamber on the top floor of the tower would be required to house members of the Lady’s entourage so Roland moved his belongings down to the great hall.

  The visit started with a feast and a day’s hunting, to which Hugo was not invited. The next day was devoted to hearing petitions and legal cases during which Hugo had plenty of time to study his new mistress whilst the day ran its interminable course. She was in her early forties and been married to Roger de Montgomery for twelve years. He hadn’t accompanied his wife on this visit but their ten year old son, Robert, had. The mother had the reputation of being clever, shrewd and vindictive which she hid under a veneer of verboseness and jocularity. Robert was already being talked of as a cruel and savage child and Hugo had warned the squires and boy servants to stay out of his way as much as possible. The only time he talked to the boy himself Hugo had been taken aback to be told by him that he and his mother expected his uncle to win the tourney. This statement was accompanied by a baleful glare that seemed out of place on the face of such a young boy.

  The next day was the day of the tourney, which was to take the form of a melee. The five knights of the mesnie at Domfront were being joined by twenty of those who owed knight’s service at the castle. Their opponents would be twenty five knights from Alencon, Belleme and Montgomery who had accompanied Lady Mabel. They were all equipped with blunt swords, lances with no points and shields. The swords were specially made for the tourney and were really just metal coshes. They would make no cuts but they could break bones quite easily.

  Hugo was leading the Domfront contingent and Oliver de Belleme, Lady Mabel’s half- brother, was commanding their opponents. The rules, such as they were, were simple. If you were unhorsed you had to retire from the field. If you were incapable of doing this by yourself, you would be dragged off. The fight continued until either the leader of one side yielded or only one side still had men mounted. If the leader fell then that side had lost therefore, although combat was generally one to one, a pack would often be detailed to concentrate on the opposing leader.

  When Lady Mabel gave the signal to begin both sides charged each other with lances and quite a few knights were unhorsed. Those who had managed to take the blow on the shield were, at worst, winded when they hit the ground. Those who were punched off their horses by taking the blow on chainmail could be seriously hurt. Hugo managed to splinter his lance on an opponent’s shield and had the gratification of seeing him lifted over the back of his saddle and dumped on the ground. The other’s lance merely glanced off Hugo’s shield.

  Hugo drew his sword and risked a look about him. He noted with satisfaction that more of the enemy had been unhorsed than his men. Then he was assailed by two knights, one on either side of his horse. He fended off the blows of one with his shield whilst parrying the other’s attack with his sword. He managed to keep this up for several minutes but he felt himself beginning to tire. Then Tristan came up on one side and delivered a tremendous blow to the helmet of one of his attackers and he slid from his horse unconscious. Now free to concentrate on his other opponent Hugo turned his destrier, who took a bite out of the other horse’s neck in passing then kicked out with his front feet hitting the other horse in the chest so that it sunk to its front knees, stunned. The knight was now exposed and Hugo brought his sword down on his unprotected right shoulder, breaking the collar bone.

  Hugo glanced round the tourney field to see that Tristan was now engaged with Oliver de Belleme but another knight was heading towards his friend’s blind side with raised sword. Hugo dug his spurs into his horse’s side and managed to cut between the charging knight and Tristan. The two horses collided but, although the other horse had more momentum it was a lighter courser and Hugo’s destrier withstood the impact better. Both men and steeds took a moment to recover then Hugo swept his sword round and caught the other knight a resounding blow across the shoulders. Whilst he was stunned from this Hugo hit him a hard blow to the head, denting his helmet, and the man slid from his horse unconscious.

  Hugo looked around for another opponent but there weren’t any. He slumped in the saddle and, as the adrenalin drained from his system, he suddenly felt incredibly weary. It was only the euphoria of having won, and quite convincingly so as there were six of his men still in the saddle, that enabled him to overcome his exhaustion and ride over to where Lady Mabel sat to receive the winner’s purse. Whilst he was being congratulated by her, somewhat perfunctorily, on winning and on his individual performance he was conscious of the malevolent stare directed at him by Robert de Belleme sitting beside his mother. The boy started mouthing curses at him and, such was the intensity of his hatred, spittle flew from his mouth like little darts of venom. Hugo thought that he may have won the tourney but he had made a powerful enemy for the future.

  Chapter Six – England 1066

  Oswin watched as they carried King Edward’s coffin down into the crypt underneath Westminster Abbey. He had died the previous day, the fifth of January. The Abbey church was crowded with the lords and bishops that made up the Witan. Oswin and nine housecarls were on duty inside the church for the funeral and for the coronation that would follow.

  Towards the end of 1065 it was obvious to all that the sixty-two year old king was fading fast. He had intended to spend Christmas in Gloucester but he was far too ill to travel. He had a mild stroke on Christmas Eve but had struggled through the Christmas Day mass and feast. His last act had been to attend the consecration of the abbey church three days later. After that he had taken to his bed and sank into delirium.

  Once it was evident that death was near the members of the Witan had flocked to London for Yuletide. The Witan consisted of all the earls and bishops and many of the ealdormen, abbots and leading king’s thanes; some sixty in all. Within hours of the king’s death they had met to elect his successor. The Archbishop of Canterbury announced that Edward’s final words had been to commend his wife and the kingdom to the protection of Harold of Wessex. Oswin had not been on duty at the meeting but Wulfric was. He had been invited to join Harold’s housecarls on his return from Normandy, despite being a year younger than the normal age, and he had told his brother all that happened.

  Few were opposed to Harold’s election; even Morcar of Northumbria and Edwin of Mercia had voted for him. Whether they would have done so if he had not married their sister a few months previously is open to question. A few had spoken in favour of the fifteen year old Edgar the Atheling; he had the best claim to the throne, being of royal blood, but most thought him too young and naïve to rule effectively. One or two had even proposed William of Normandy but had been shouted down immediately.

  Oswin and Wulfric watched as the archbishop of York crowned Harold. Stigund of Canterbury would normally have officiated as the senior pontiff but he had been appointed by a pope whose name had been removed from the official list of popes and Harold was determined that no doubts about the legitimacy of his crowning could be raised.

  After the Witan had sworn fealty to King Harold he asked his own housecarls to repeat their oaths to him en masse, then he turned to Edward’s former housecarls.

  ‘You know that it was King Edward’s wish that y
ou should be given a choice of discharge or engagement by your new king. I now offer you that choice. If you wish to leave please do so now and see my steward to collect your pay; if you wish to join my housecarls then stay and take the oath.’

  Harold watched as several of the more elderly walked sheepishly to a side door then he took the oath of those remaining, including Oswin.

  ‘I am pleased that we will be serving together from now on, brother.’ Wulfric smiled at Oswin as they walked towards the great west doors of the church.

  ‘I would have joined you in Harold’s service after Normandy if I had not been sworn to Edward.’

  They pulled the doors open and Harold emerged into the weak winter sunshine to the roar of the crowd waiting outside.

  ~#~

  Ten weeks later the two brothers accompanied Harold and the bishop of Worcester to York for a public meeting with the local nobles and thanes.

  ‘Why are we going to York?’ Wulfric wanted to know as they rode through the cold rain.

  ‘Because Earl Morcar and certain other nobles, like the lord of Bamburgh, still hanker after the old days when Northumbria was an independent kingdom. Harold needs them to realise that together England can resist the claims of Harald Hadrada and William the Bastard but divided Harald can seize the north whilst William captures the south.’

  ‘Is that likely?’ Wulfric was dubious. ‘Harold is a great warrior and we are protected by the sea. No-one could land a large enough army to defeat us.’

  ‘Let’s hope you are correct little brother.’

  Six months later they were riding northwards to York again. After months of fruitlessly watching the south coast for the expected invasion fleet of Duke William word had reached the king of the landing of a great army at Riccall a few miles from York. Harald of Norway had sailed with his own fleet to Shetland and collected more men and ships there before mustering at Orkney where contingents from Iceland, Man and Ireland were waiting. Finally Tostig, the deposed Earl of Northumbria, joined him with his housecarls and some Flemish mercenaries. Although he was King Harold’s brother he had always been jealous of him and he blamed Harold for not supporting him when the thanes of his earldom had ousted him.