Lord Edward's Archer

by Griff Hosker

  Nightfall made our decision. I dared not ride further in the dark so we stopped in a hollow, half a mile from the road. There was a spring, but we were so exhausted that any place which was not exposed would have done. I did not risk lighting a fire and tended Roger’s wound by moonlight. He had burst the dressing and I had to use my honey again to repair the damage. One horse had become lame and I let her go. We ate because we had to and we drank from the spring. I knew that I should have kept watch, but I was just too tired. I slept and relied on Harry’s ears.

  When I awoke, in the dark, it was to the sound of a tolling bell. There was a monastery close by. I had been saved from making a major mistake. I might have ridden on and been discovered. I would not kill priests, but they would have happily reported seeing two men with three horses and a pony. Roger slept on. I was awake and so I saw to the horses. I gave them water and I made sure that they grazed. I roused Roger when I saw silver in the east.

  After more venison we headed east and passed the monastery. That determined our route. The road to York passed by the huge monastery so I took us along the stream which skirted it. Our course was set. We would go to Hull and seek help from the monks who traded wool there. The forty miles we rode took us all day. Roger was still not fully fit, although he was better than he had been. When we neared the monastery, I said, “Let me do the talking. Remain silent.”

  The monks of Meaux Abbey were clever men. They used their farms to raise sheep and export the wool to France and the Low Countries. The revenue helped them to become one of the richer orders. I had heard of them through Hugh of Rhuddlan, who had travelled through the port when he served with the Earl of Chester. Knowing that, I was able to appeal to their mercenary side.

  The monk who spoke to me was a senior one. “Brother, I wish to travel to Flanders. You have ships which ply the seas. I would trade our horses and ponies. We seek passage on one of your ships. We could act as guards for the crossing.”

  The monk’s eyes flashed as he saw the profit. “How much would you want for the animals?”

  “You are an honest man. You tell me.”

  The price he paid was well below their value, but the animals had cost us nothing and his silence was assured. It was a buyer’s market and we agreed the price. We spent three days in the abbey awaiting the ship. The monks tended to Roger’s wound. I was sad to lose Harry, but he had served me well, and he would have a better life with the monks. He would be away from war.

  While we waited we met a merchant. We could see he was a merchant by his dress, but he carried a short sword and he had sharp, inquisitive eyes. I would have said he was the same age as Roger of Talacre. Dickon of Doncaster was a plain-speaking man, and he walked up to us as we sat on the wood quay awaiting a ship. “You two look like likely lads. I see swords, war bows and arrows. Are you archers?”

  I nodded. “I am. Roger here was a man at arms.”

  As I learned later, Dickon was a shrewd and perceptive man. “You are leaving England, and I am guessing in something of a hurry.”

  I was startled. Roger was quicker to hide his face. He smiled. “We are in no hurry, sir. We await a ship.”

  The merchant nodded. “It will be here tomorrow. It is my ship. Yet you sold your horses for much less than they are worth. From your clothes, Roger the man at arms, I would say that you have seen better days, and yet you owned three horses and a pony.”

  We had a dilemma. His words were becoming uncomfortably close to the truth, and yet if we wished to sail, we had to use his ship. My world was one of hunting and the woods. This was a world of deception we had entered, and I was ill prepared.

  Dickon of Doncaster smiled. “I care not for your past. It is your future which interests me. Where are you bound?”

  I was on firmer ground now. “France. We hear they pay archers and men at arms well.”

  “They do. You two, however, have first to pay for a berth on my ship or, if you choose to wait another six days, for another ship. I have to tell you that the money you were paid for your horses will barely cover your berths and leave you without the means to buy horses in France.”

  I frowned. “How do you know this?”

  He laughed. “You did not think I came here early just to watch the waves break upon the shore, did you? I was here to negotiate the cost of carrying the monk’s cargo to France. They are keen to help me, and they volunteered the information about you two.” He lowered his voice. “They think you are fleeing some crime. Your friend’s wound was made by a sword.”

  For a brief moment I thought to return to the monks and demand that they sell us back our horses, but I knew that would be rejected. They had made profit from us.

  “So will you hear my proposition?”

  I looked at Roger who shrugged. What had we to lose?

  “I take that as a yes. You two need to get to Gascony. As it happens, that suits me. I have need of guards for both my ship and for my wagons when we get to France. We will land at Honfleur and travel across Aquitaine to Poitiers. I have carters to drive my wagons, but I need men to guard them. I will feed you and mount you. I will give you berths on my ship. When we reach Poitiers, then I will give you the horses. What say you to that? Gascony and the conflict you seek is but a day or two south of Poitiers.”

  Roger said, “Would we be paid too?”

  Dickon laughed. “You will be fed, given a bed and a horse. What more payment can you expect?”

  It was better than I had hoped. I nodded. “I am your man.” I glanced at Roger who nodded. “As is Roger of Talacre.”

  “And what is your name, archer?”

  “Gerald War Bow.”

  And so a new part of my life began. It did not begin with a lie but, like much in life, a half-truth. I discovered, as we waited for the ship, that Dickon transported a wide range of goods. When we were finished in Poitiers, he would travel down to Bordeaux, where he would meet his ship and take wine back to England. He had a family in Doncaster. There, he kept his valuables and his family well guarded. I learned that he did not surround himself with armed men, for that attracted attention. He rarely carried coin with him. There was a group of men who did business with each other. They used paper instead of coin. It meant that if they were robbed, the paper was useless and they had lost nothing. It explained why we would not be paid in coin. He had none to give us.

  The ship arrived on the evening tide. The Maid of Beverley was larger than I had expected and had a small forecastle as well as an aftcastle. The forecastle would only have accommodated three men, but, as we discovered, it also doubled as sleeping quarters. James of Whitby was the captain. He was a big man, and he ruled his crew with his ham-like fists. He reminded me of Harry. He had his crew load the wool so quickly that I knew they had done this many times before. It was practised. It was done so quickly that we left the river lit by the setting sun behind us. The dark sea awaited us.

  Dickon of Doncaster seemed to forget about us once we set sail. The first mate, James of Whitby’s son, took us to the forecastle. “This is where you will sleep. There is an old piece of canvas there. If you rig it over the top it will give you protection from the sea.” He smiled. “Unless we hit a storm, and then nothing will stop a soaking!”

  We had been fed by the monks before we left. Dickon had influence. It looked like that would be our last meal until the next morning, and so we made ourselves as comfortable as we could. We stored our weapons, arrows and saddlebags between the ribs of the forecastle. That left us just enough space to curl up and sleep. The canvas above us shut out all light, but as we left the river and the larger waves struck us, we were glad of it. The water broke over the bows, and we heard it splatter onto the canvas.

  I found the motion quite restful and I was soon asleep. I was disturbed twice by Roger of Talacre. He proved to have a weaker stomach. We woke to a grey day with a wind which was not doing what the captain wished. We had to tack back and forth. Roger and I were soon taught how to help the sailors. I found it easi
er than Roger. Hauling on sheets and stays was nothing for someone who had been trained as an archer. It took twelve days to reach Honfleur. By the time we got to the river we had both picked up skills and got to know the crew. They taught us some words that would stand us in good stead. They mainly involved paying for wine or women.

  We were used to help unload the ship. The merchant was getting his money’s worth from us. There were wagons waiting for us, and we loaded them while Dickon went to hire drivers. The crew helped us to protect his cargo. It was not just wool. There were also blanks which would be made into swords. We saw many shifty looking characters who hung around the port.

  Roger pointed to two such men. “I will wager they have accomplices. Unless I miss my guess, our skills will be needed on the road. I am glad that my wound is healed.”

  He did look much stronger. The food on the ship, whilst it had not been particularly exciting, had been both plentiful and filling. He had regained his strength. He would need it. On the voyage he had made a second scabbard for the sword taken from the dead man at arms. He wore them across his back. He could use both hands to fight. That was unusual for it meant he did not use a shield. He had regretted not taking the helmet from the dead men at arms. Archers did not like them but I knew that a good helmet could stop a blow to the head.

  Dickon returned with the six drivers who would accompany us. He also brought three horses. His was a palfrey and ours were sumpters. It made sense. They were the same horses as the ones which pulled the wagons. Our job was to stay as close to the wagons as we could. After giving instructions to James of Whitby, we set off and headed south towards Aquitaine.

  “You two stay close to me and, Gerald War Bow, keep your bow strung. There were greedy eyes at the port. We may soon discover if you are as skilful as your name suggests.”

  I did not like to keep my bow strung but I had a spare bow and bowstrings. This was my new world and I had to embrace it. I had spent part of the voyage making my father’s green arrows red. I was not disrespecting my father’s memory. I needed the comfort of my familiar red fletch.

  It became clear that Dickon had done this before. The length of our ride was dictated by villages and inns. Dickon liked his comfort. We slept with the wagons but he slept in a bed. However, it meant that we would be safe from robbers at night. It would be during the day when we might be set upon.

  Our first stop was at Lisieux. The twenty miles we had ridden had been nerve-wracking for me. The smells of the land were not what I was used to. The words of those we met were foreign. I was glad when, as dusk approached, we reached the safety of the town. We unloaded some of the sword blanks. I saw no money changing hands but Dickon of Doncaster seemed happy with the paper he received.

  It was Roger’s outlaw eyes which spied the men we had seen in Honfleur. As soon as the two men realised they had been spotted they disappeared, but Roger had seen them. He came to me to tell me and we reported to Dickon. He did not seem put out. He merely nodded. “Good, my investment begins to pay off. Tomorrow the road passes through a forest. I suspect the men you saw may try something there.” He smiled. “They are Normans and they know not what a good bow can do. You are fast?” I nodded. “Good.”

  “But I cannot loose from a horse, and if they ambush us I will need to have a solid platform.”

  “Good, you are a thinker. Then on the morrow, you ride next to Alain who drives the lead wagon. Will that be solid enough?”

  “Aye, so long as it does not jerk too much.”

  “And you, Roger of Talacre, must make them fear you!”

  Roger laughed. “That they will do!”

  I placed the quiver of red-fletched arrows in the well of the wagon, along with my sword. I wore my cloak to disguise my frame and I hunched over. Alain spoke a few words of English. “You wish me to stop the wagon if we are attacked?”

  “Aye. Will we be attacked?”

  “Three times in the last year we have been attacked in these woods. The lords who live close by try to protect the road, but the men who will try to take our goods know the woods and the road well. They can move around. Last time my brother was slain. Do not show these rats any mercy.”

  “I will not.”

  I had begun to think that Alain and Dickon of Doncaster were wrong, for we were almost through the woods when the eight men burst from hiding. They had swords and spears. One of them shouted, “You are surrounded. Surrender and you live.”

  Even as he was speaking I was nocking an arrow, which I sent directly into his chest. My second and third took the two men next to him before they had even realised what was going on. Dickon and Roger charged some others, and I nocked another arrow and sought one of the men behind us. There were four men remaining and they had knocked the driver of the last wagon to the ground. My first arrow hit the man who sought to replace him, and my second hit the one who tried to climb up. The other drivers had dismounted and, along with Alain, raced to attack the last two. I turned and nocked an arrow. A brigand swung an axe at Dickon’s horse. My arrow went through his arm and into his neck. The last man fled.

  I heard a scream from the last wagon as Alain and the other drivers butchered the last man. Dickon rode up to me. “You did not exaggerate, Gerald War Bow. Those arrows were both fast and accurate. I owe you my life.” He turned. “Roger, see if they have anything of value and then push their bodies into the ditch. We have wasted enough time.”

  Alain returned. “Serge is a little groggy but he will live. Thank you, archer. We are indebted to you.”

  I mounted my horse and rode at the head of the column with Dickon and Roger. Dickon nodded to Roger. “You two may share what coins and weapons they had. You too impressed me, Roger of Talacre. If you choose not to find another lord, I would employ you all the time.”

  I looked at Roger and shook my head, “No master. We have set our course and we will follow it where ’e’er it leads.”

  By the time we reached Poitiers we had both picked up a little Norman and a little French. I knew that we would need it. We had coins in our pockets. Some was from the sale of the animals in England, some from the dead brigands. As we parted with Dickon he gave us twelve silver sixpences each. “Call it a bonus. If ever you need work, then find me. I am to be found in Bordeaux or Honfleur. All know me.” He pointed south and west. “There are small wars being fought there. If you seek work, then travel on the road towards Toulouse; you will find a master who needs your skills.”

  We spent one night at an inn. We would be sleeping rough for the foreseeable future. Our horses were not in the best state and so I bought a bag of grain. Winter was coming and the grazing would not be as nutritious as we might have liked. I also spent some of my money on a better cloak. I decided to head for Agen. We had heard, at the inn, that Gaston de Béarn was fighting against the English lords of Gascony. This struck both of us as a perfect opportunity to earn coin and still serve England. We were both Englishmen at heart. It was rumoured that Edward Longshanks, known as Lord Edward, was campaigning south of Agen. Given that he would be the next king of England, we hoped he would wish to hire two warriors such as we.

  Looking back, it was such a vague idea that I am amazed we even contemplated heading south with such flimsy evidence of employment. I believe that had we not met Dickon of Doncaster, we might have ended up on the borders of Normandy and might even have fought against the English. We headed south, keenly aware that we were seen as the enemy by many Frenchmen. Officially our two countries were not at war, but it would not have taken much to spark one. Our French was improving day by day, but we would never be taken for Frenchmen. My longbow clearly marked me as an archer and therefore English.

  The road to Gascony was not a quiet one. There were others such as ourselves, warriors seeking paymasters. We were the only Englishmen, although there were some Normans and Angevin. They had been part of the Empire of King John until that foolish king had lost them. We fell in with six Angevin men at arms. They were happy to have an arche
r with them.

  “What do you know of this land to which we go?”

  Gaston was a grizzled old veteran. The others deferred to him and it was he who answered. “De Montfort ruled Gascony for a while, until he was found to be taking coin. I think King Henry did not like his ideas. It did not help that the Lord Edward, Edward Longshanks was a friend of De Montfort. The prince is there now, trying to exert his authority over the men of Bearn.”

  One of the younger men at arms, Jean, added, “He married well, or at least his father married him off to a Spanish bride. He now has Castile backing him.”

  “I take it we try to fight with Prince Edward?”

  Gaston leaned in to speak to Roger and me, “Timing is all. If the English prince loses a battle, then he will be more inclined to need to hire men, and he will not worry about the cost. Gascony is well endowed with coin and goods and the prince is rich.”

  “You would have him lose?”

  He laughed. “This is not England. The battles are more like skirmishes. You will be much sought after, for if there are enough archers on the battlefield then that can often decide the outcome. Knights do not like to risk expensive warhorses in charges. Princes and dukes are happy to pay a few coins for the likes of us, but paying pounds for lost horses is a different matter. Here, men fight for coin and not flags.”

  The eight of us stayed together for we could negotiate better prices for food, and we watched out for each other. One of us would stand guard if there were Frenchmen close to our camp. It took eight days to reach Agen. It was a border town with a fine castle and it was filled with French. Roger and I remained silent and let Gaston and the others do the talking. I had asked everyone about Harry but no one knew of an English archer recently arrived. I guessed he had stayed in the north. In the end we were too desperate to await news of a battle. The Angevin had coin. Ours was limited. We heard of an English lord across the river from Aiguillon. It was sixteen miles away and guarded two rivers, the Lot and the Garonne. There was a bridge to the south of Aiguillon. We would cross into Gascony and hope that the Englishman who lived there would pay us.