by Griff Hosker
“Lord they have finished the ram and are pouring water on the hide roof.”
“When they move it into range see if your can slow it up.”
“Aye lord.”
The men with the faggots and kindling arrived. We had enough to make a good fire. I saw that we had twenty stones. Most were from the Roman wall. Sir Richard had done well. I wondered just how much sleep he had had. William handed me my helmet and my shield. I took off my cloak and hung the shield over my back. If I needed it I could easily swing it around. My coif hung on my shoulders and I wore just my arming cap. I let my men choose how they would face the enemy. These were our men and they needed no instructions.
John of Oxbridge brought the jug of fat and he placed it between two braziers to keep it warm. I watched him as he checked that his younger brother had tied his helmet properly. “You have a good edge to your sword?”
“Good enough to shave with.”
Davy of Ingleby bantered, “If you did shave. I am guessing that the cat can still lick off the fuzz you have!”
The others laughed but James just smiled, “If you mean I am a young warrior with better reactions than an old greybeard like you then you are right, Davy of Ingleby. I did not know that you rated me so highly!”
They all laughed even louder. They would do.
A horn sounded and the postern gate opened. Men began to file out. Our archers had taught them discretion and they each held long shields before them. I could not identify them for their shields bore no devices. I heard the rumble of wheels as the ram was pushed towards the bridge which led over the ditch to the gate. They would have to turn it at right angles when they neared the ditch. The archers near me were already selecting their arrows. None would be wasted. The men at arms hefted the throwing spears and darts. Each one would choose one which felt right in their hands. This was like a battle ritual. Every man prepared differently. I saw some head for the garderobe where they would make water. This was not a privy such as we had inside the castle. It was a hole which led to the moat. I watched one man pull down his breeks and sit. If there were not men coming to attack he would have been reprimanded by the captain of the guard, now John of Oxbridge nodded approvingly. Anything which made the ground and bridge slippery was a good thing.
We could do nothing more until they were within range of our arrows. The archers also needed a target. The men pushing the ram were inside the war machine but there were others behind pushing. They held shields in their left arms. The men inside the ram were chanting to help keep their rhythm. I did not recognise it. There were no mounted men. All were on foot. They had no standards and that was strange for there was no rallying point. I knew that the slits in the city walls would bristle with crossbows. We could do little about them. We had shields and the archers were elevated.
I knew when the ram was in range for Aelric shouted, “Nock!”
There was no command to draw and release. They would each have a target in mind. Seven arrows flew. I heard shouts and screams. The men pushing had shields but my archers aimed at legs and feet. The wounded men dropped and cowered behind shields. The ram slowed. The men inside would have to push harder. The harder they worked the longer it would take to break down the gate. Time was an ally! It was then that they began to send crossbow bolts in our direction. Fortunately for us they tried to aim at our archers. The ones in the turret above us were safe and Atheling and the others just stepped back a little. The bolts were wasted as they cracked into the stone walls of the gate and turret. The ram was nearing the point at which it would have to turn. The eight wheels helped it move in a straight line but made turning harder. Seven men were wounded as they tried to heave it around into position.
They paused. They were now less than a hundred paces from the ditch. They were giving the men pushing the opportunity to catch their breath whilst forming up the men at arms and knights behind. Our archers had done all that they could and now they took the opportunity of putting a new bow string on their bows. Each archer had a leather pouch under their cap or helmet. A new string gave them a little extra power. Once the knights and mailed men at arms closed with the walls then they would learn that the bodkin arrows sent at a range of less than fifty paces would be deadly. Now that the bows had stopped the sound which dominated was the creak of the ram and the sound of its wheels on the cobbles. The ground was perfectly flat. The wheels rolled steadily and the men at arms behind the ram now added their weight to it.
“Ready the stones.” I did not shout the command. I did not need to. Half of my men picked up a stone each while a shield brother held a shield before them both. When they stood to drop the rocks on to the ram they would be exposed.
I turned around to make certain that my grandfather hadn’t joined us. He had not and for that I was grateful. I knew that we would lose the gatehouse. It might not be this day but it would fall. We had too few men to defend it. I had only chosen this course of action for I knew we could make them bleed. We had more chance of holding them with the smaller perimeter of the inner ward. The advancing men began to shout. It was partly to give them heart and partly to help them try to run.
I shouted, “Horn!” The horn sounded twice and my men rose and began to hurl rocks at the ram. Some hit the ground before the ram and that helped for they would hurt those inside and might turn the wheels off course. Others crashed and cracked into the roof. The roof was made from the hull of a boat. It was not intended to take such blows. Still it lumbered towards the gate and the cheers from our enemies grew. One particularly large stone tore a hole in the hide and then landed so close to the wheel and the parapet of the bridge that the ram struck. James of Oxbridge took a spear and hurled it at the warrior who tried to remove the stone. He sent it into the man’s shoulder.
“Push it! We are almost there!” The voice from the rear of the ram was obviously a leader and the wheel lurched over the stone.
The ram was now just two paces from the gate. It was time. “John, now!” First one of the braziers was lifted and then hurled over the side. A crossbow bolt sliced across his cheek. He did not stop and he and Harold Strongarm used the borrowed tools to deposit the burning brazier over the top. John’s brother joined in with the others as they hurled kindling and faggots on to the fire.
Holding my shield before me I peered over the side of the battlements. The coals were glowing and the kindling ignited but the dampened hide refused to burn.
John and Harold picked up the next brazier. Our archers were ready this time and they sent arrows towards the arrow slits. The odds on hitting anything were minimal but it takes a brave man to keep your face close to one when you know that a barbed arrow is heading for you. This time the brazier almost exploded as it hit the smouldering ram. More kindling followed. This time the kindling flamed so much that they almost singed me.
John shouted, “Hold the last one!” He picked up the jug of tallow and pig fat and dropped it on to the inferno.
I was in the best position to see what was happening. The fire had begun to burn the hide. The tears and rips had allowed the flames to set fire to the ship’s timbers. The fat and tallow seeped down finding gaps. It began to heat up and then suddenly it burst into flames. As more kindling and faggots caught fire so the whole of the ram began to burn.
“One more push!”
With a superhuman effort the ram was pushed next to the gate. Then men began to scream. Some were on fire as they hurled themselves from the ram, over the parapet to plunge into the murky waters of the ditch. They hissed as they hit the water. Others burst from the doomed war machine and my archers, from their vantage points on three towers took full advantage and the brave men who had forced the ram close enough to the gate, perished.
An enemy horn sounded and they pulled back behind the city walls of London. Now we were the ones who would suffer for the fire was out of control and the gate was burning. “William get men to make a chain of buckets from the river. Wet the inside of the gate. I will stay here with th
e archers.”
He nodded, “Come, men of Stockton. You have shown us you can light a fire. Can you extinguish one!”
Harold Strongarm shouted, “Give me enough ale sir and I will piss it out for you!” Their laughter told me that they were in good spirits. We had wounded men but none had died and the men of Stockton had saved the castle… for now.
Chapter 14
The fire burnt itself out an hour before dark. A pall of smoke blew towards the city walls. In the dark and from the postern gate it would appear that the gate was still intact but it was an illusion. I had been down to examine it and the integrity of the wood had gone. There was nothing we could do. A determined attack by men with shields would break it and once they were close to the second gate they could attack it with impunity. We would not be able to touch them. By the time noon came they would have taken the gatehouse. I had bought us but one more day.
Leaving Sir William in command I headed for the Tower and a meeting with Sir Ranulf and my grandfather. They were both in the great hall and there was warm bread, ale and cheese on the table. Once the gate house fell then we would lose the bakehouse. I would make the most of the bread whilst it stood and we could bake. I had forgotten what it was like to eat. I smelled of smoke and sweat and I was weary beyond words.
Sir Ranulf nodded, “Well done, Sir Samuel. I did not think that so few men could hold the gate. You did not need us.”
“But when they attack tomorrow the gate will not hold and we will lose the gate.”
My grandfather nodded, “And then we fall back to this wall. Now that you have cleared those trees our archers will decimate them.”
I continued to devour the food and slake my thirst. “Sir Ranulf my men will need rest. Would you be so good as to set the watch for us?”
“Aye but I fear that unless help comes soon then we will succumb. They are a determined enemy.”
I nodded, “And from what you and Davy said the danger may not be limited to the city of London. I wonder where Walter and the Earl of Essex are?”
“I would not be worried yet. The Earl’s manor is to the north and east of London. Your man was on foot and it would take him up to a day longer to reach the Earl and then he would have to return west. Give them another day and then worry.”
“I will go and set the watch.” He left us and my grandfather and I were alone.
When we were alone my grandfather asked, “Did we lose any men?”
I shook my head and pushed away the empty platter, “We had wounds. John of Oxbridge had his cheek torn by a bolt. There were burns and other minor wounds but we kept them from the gate. Tomorrow it will be harder for we will have to flee across open ground. I fear that we will lose men.”
“And that has always been hard for me. When I came to England I had none who followed me. Harold and Dick were the first and they lived long lives. There were others who did not. I have sat here, while the medicine took effect, and thought of them. I find it hard to remember what happened yesterday but I can remember their names, “Edward, Wilfred, Edgar, Gurt, Roger of Lincoln, William the Tall, Alan the Saxon. Will's son, Alan of York. The list is seemingly endless: Sir Hugh of Hexham, Richard of Yarm, Erre. All good men and true. Men will die before you return to Stockton and you will remember them. You are of our blood.”
“And was it worth it?”
He laughed, “A good question and a hard one to answer. If you were to ask me would I change anything then I would say aye but that is looking back in time and knowing where I went wrong. There were men I trusted I should not and decisions I made which were not the best but I would not change my purpose. I fought for the Empress, her family, England and the Tees.” I saw his eyes mist.
“And which of these was the most important?”
It was as though he shut a visor over his face and he shook his head. I could not read him. “There are hard questions and there are impossible questions. All I will say is that each strand of my life is woven tightly with all the others. Cut one and the whole fabric dissolves.” He stood, “Now rest. I have had a day to sit and contemplate. I have taken the medicine and feel better. I need some action. I will walk the walls and I will speak with our men. You despair but, in my experience, you take each day as it comes. You celebrate the victory and wash away any defeat with ale or wine. Today was a victory. Tomorrow could bring either. Until the blade takes your life you fight on for that is what men do.”
He patted my shoulder as he left. I would never be the man my grandfather was. He had been made of sterner stuff than I. William was already in our chamber. He had eaten in the kitchen with the other squires. The cooks looked after the squires. He had his mail laid on a sack.
“Lord, let me take off your mail. You have worn it for days.”
I nodded, “And we will need to clean it but not this night. When we have defeated this foe, we will cleanse ourselves for there is no honour in this. We fight mercenaries whose motives are venal.”
I slept but my dreams were haunted by my grandfather’s face and all those I had seen die in battle. Arne, Jean the others all flashed before my eyes. There was burning and there was death and when I woke I was not refreshed.
It was still dark and no light came into the chamber. I did not relish visiting the dead once more and so I rose. I left my mail on the floor and draped my cloak about my shoulders. I went down to the Great Hall. By the glow from the fire I saw my grandfather, asleep. He had a fur covering his body and there was wine on the table. He was barely breathing and not for the first time I wondered if he was dead. I held my breath and when he stirred I breathed again. I filled a goblet with wine. Here we had goblets and not beakers. It was good wine. I did not wish to disturb him and when I had drunk I went to the garderobe and made water.
By the time I reached my chamber a candle was burning and William was awake and was donning his mail. “Lord you should have woken me.”
“You need sleep too. Come help me into my mail and we will walk the walls before we eat.”
William carried our shields and helmets. When I reached the gatehouse, there was a hint of dawn in the east. Sir Ranulf had retired and Matthew, his Captain of the Guard was there.
“How goes the night?”
“Quiet lord but we heard scurrying beyond the city walls. They are roused.”
I nodded, “Then we will be too. Sound the stand to!”
The horn’s strident notes rang out. For those like Sir Ranulf who might have been abed for bare hours it would seem like moments. Men would rise, make water, don mail. If they had the chance they would grab some bread and swallow some ale. The one thing they would all do would be to get to their posts. Dawn was the most dangerous time. The enemy had more men and there could be fresh warriors waiting to fall upon us.
I looked along the fighting platform of the gatehouse. There were still a few stones we had not thrown. Five darts and six spears were there. I hoped that, as there was an armoury here we had more missiles we could use. The longer we could keep the enemy at bay the better chance we had of surviving. Winning was not even an option.
Suddenly a bolt flew from the city walls and a careless sentry found his left arm pinned to his body. “Shields!” Even as I shouted the command I knew that Captain Matthew had not done his job. He should have impressed on his men the need for constant vigilance. We were now one man down. We had too few to waste. “Get him to a healer and the rest of you be alert!”
A few more speculative bolts headed for us but they struck shields or the walls. Crossbows were mechanical and prone to breaking down. They could waste their bolts on our walls. As my men arrived so Sir Ranulf’s left. When John of Oxbridge came I saw the angry scar on his cheek. “John I would have you and your brother take charge of the south west bastion tower. When they break into here you and the archers can cover us while we run back to the inner curtain. You have the fighting platform as an escape route and you can wade around the stakes and enter by the water gate. Ask Sir Richard and his squire joi
n me here. See if there are any more darts and throwing spears in the armoury. I would have them here.”
“Aye lord. Do you think the gatehouse will fall?”
“It may take the morning but they will reduce it. We both know that.”
He nodded, glumly, “With a few more men lord…”
“I know but as my grandfather will tell you it is impossible to have all that you wish. You make do with what you have and we have done that up to now. We trust to God and Sir James. He will have reached my father and he will not let us down.”
I saw the smile on John’s face and optimism returned to the grizzled warrior’s scarred face.
By the time dawn broke Sir Richard had joined me and we waited with eight men at arms and ten archers. The rest were on the inner curtain wall, under the command of Harry of Norton. Leaving William, protected by a shield to watch the postern gate, I gathered the tiny garrison on the east side of the gate. “We hold them here as long as we can. Sweyn I want you and Brian by the inner gate. When you hear axes on the gate then call me. At that point the archers will head for the inner wall and the rest of you will join me while we fight those who break through. Our aim is to slow them and not to die. When I give the order to run then be as deer fleeing the wolf. We run to the inner wall.”
Harry asked, “Will they not use a ram again, lord?”
“The night watch did not hear them building one. They will use axes. We need to kill as many as we can while they are within range. Once they are beneath us then we can do nothing.”
We returned to watch. A flurry of bolts heralded the postern gate being opened. Men appeared from the Aldgate. The attack was about to start. This time I donned my helmet. They were using bolts and my archers would have to thin the hordes which would descend from the city. I did not draw a sword. I picked up a throwing spear which John’s men had sent.
