Medieval III - Sword of Liberty

by Kevin Ashman

  ‘I understand,’ said Elias. ‘And when he is well, what would you have me do with him?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead,’ said Garyn, ‘but if you can look after him for the time being, I will return within the next few weeks and check on you both. Besides, it has just occurred to me, he may have some information I may be interested in.’

  ‘What sort of information?’

  ‘Don’t worry yourself over that, Elias, just make sure you get him fit and well again.’

  ‘Of course, Sir, he will be as sprightly as a week old colt before this month is out.’

  ‘Good, I will return then. Don’t forget, Elias, this is our secret.’

  The servant nodded and watched Garyn walk back the way he had come.’

  ----

  Chapter Nine

  Brecon Castle

  ‘Hold there stranger,’ said one of the pike men at the entrance to the castle, ‘state your name and your business.’

  The rider reined in his horse and dismounted.

  ‘My name is Hywel Ap Rees and I hail from Builth. I seek audience with Father Williams, Abbot of the Monastery at Brycheniog. I understand he is here?’

  ‘The Abbot is a guest of the Castellan this past week and is not taking visitors. I suggest you go to the Abbey and await his return.’

  ‘My business will not wait,’ said the Liegeman, ‘and I demand audience.’

  ‘Take your demands elsewhere, stranger,’ said the Pike man, ‘we have our orders.’

  ‘I respect your loyalty,’ said Hywel, ‘but let me say this. I have information for the Abbot, information he has been seeking for many years but it will become useless within days. If he finds out he missed this opportunity, which I can assure you he will, then I suspect you will suffer a heavy price and we all know he is not a man of good temper.’

  The Pike man looked at his comrade nervously.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘What is this information that you proclaim so important?’ asked the second soldier, turning to face Hywel.

  ‘It is for his ears alone but I will say this. Go to the Abbot and tell him there is one at the gate who knows the whereabouts of the blacksmith. That will be enough.’

  The men paused but eventually one turned to stride under the raised portcullis.

  ‘Your mount looks tired,’ said the remaining guard, ‘it would seem you have ridden far.’

  ‘Two days with little rest,’ said Hywel, ‘and would welcome shelter and hay for my horse.’

  ‘If your news is as important as you claim, then I suggest you will be well stabled within the hour.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ replied Hywel. ‘Tell me, it is a long time since I have had cause to visit this place and the last time I came the Castellan was a man called Ellicott. Does he still hold the responsibility?’

  ‘Alas no, for he was a kindly man. He died in suspicious circumstances and many suspect poisoning but such matters are beyond the likes of us.’

  ‘So who is your new master?’

  ‘Our new Lord is known as Gerald of Essex, an English Knight who wed the daughter of Cadwallader. Since he took over her father’s lands his star has risen and he has acquired huge influence hereabouts. He is a brutal master and feared by many so when the position of Castellan became available, his petition for consideration was well received by the King and Gerald was appointed Castellan of Brecon Castle as well as Sherriff and Constable of Brycheniog.’

  ‘A position of much power,’ said Hywel.

  ‘Indeed, but a position supported by Longshanks himself for Gerald keeps the Welsh in their place with a brutal hand. Between him and the Abbot, there is not a dissenting word to be heard from Builth to Caerleon.’

  ‘Is the Abbot a close friend of this Gerald?’

  ‘Indeed he is and between them their power in these parts is second only to the King.’

  ‘And what do you think of this?’

  ‘Me? I have no thoughts on such matters. I am a soldier of the King and takes the penny to obey orders.’

  ‘Nevertheless, are you not of Welsh birth?’

  ‘There are many Welsh in the Kings army,’ said the Pike man, ‘it doesn’t mean we are any less patriotic, it’s just a living and perhaps one with a view of reality rather than fantasy.’

  Before Hywel could say anymore the other Pike man returned.

  ‘Let him through,’ he called, ‘the Abbot will see him.’

  ‘It seems your tale is good, stranger,’ said the second guard, ‘go through to the inner ward.’

  Hywel grunted and led his horse under the portcullis. As he walked he could see dozens of men along the upper castellations, each cradling a crossbow in their arms.

  ‘Are you expecting trouble?’ asked Hywel.

  ‘Nobody would dare raise their fist against Gerald,’ said the guard, ‘but there are rumours of revolt and it is always good to be prepared.’

  The sound of the horse’s hooves echoed around the castle’s courtyard as a page ran forward to take the beast away.

  ‘Feed and water him well,’ said Hywel.

  The guard handed Hywel over to a waiting squire and within moments he was walking through the double doors of the great hall. He was shown to an oaken table near to a roaring fire built into the far wall.

  ‘The Abbot will be along shortly,’ said the squire. ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘I have not,’ said the Liegeman, ‘and would welcome a crust.’

  ‘I will have the kitchens bring you a meal,’ said the Squire.

  Ten minutes later, a serving girl carried a tray of food for the Liegeman consisting of half a chicken, a bowl of Cawl and a hand of bread, along with a jug of watered wine. Hywel mumbled his thanks and tore into the chicken, taking large gulps of wine between each mouthful. When he was done, he ripped the bread into chunks and dipped it into the rich Cawl gravy between spooning vegetables into his mouth. Slowly he became aware of being watched and looked up to see a man staring at him in distaste. He swallowed hard and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ he asked.

  ‘I think the only problem here is your lack of manners,’ said the man.

  ‘I apologise if my manner offends you,’ said Hywel, ‘but a hungry man often forgets such niceties when faced with a feast.’

  ‘Granted but irrespective of your table manners, do you not show the courtesy of hospitality?’

  ‘Indeed I do, and await the arrival of my host, The Abbot of Brycheniog.’

  ‘On the Contrary,’ said the man, ‘the Abbot is a guest here as are you. I am your host, Gerald of Essex, Castellan of this castle and Edward’s trusted Constable.’

  ‘My apologies, Sire,’ said Hywel standing up and bowing his head, ‘I was not expecting one so young.’

  ‘A mistake often made,’ said Gerald, ‘but one to which I am taking a dislike. Since when is age a guarantee of loyalty, lineage or indeed prowess? I have seen many aged Knights who are not worthy to carry such a title.’

  ‘Your point is well made, Sir,’ said Hywel looking around him. ‘Is the Abbot not available?’

  ‘He is indisposed,’ said the Castellan, ‘but I will arrange an audience shortly. Finish your food and then ask the Squire to bring you through.’

  ‘Thank you, Sire,’ said Hywel and as soon as the young Knight had left, he sat back down, returning his attention to the unfinished bowl of cawl.

  ----

  Father Williams was being pulled into an upright position in his bed. His face was gaunt but his strength was returning after suffering another bout of dysentery, a recurring problem after his time in the holy land many years earlier.

  ‘Where is he?’ he wheezed.

  ‘He is partaking of my hospitality in the main hall,’ said Gerald. ‘I will bring him through shortly.’

  The Abbot sipped on a goblet of water.

  ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Does he seem of sound mind?’

  ‘I
have no idea,’ said the Castellan, ‘but he doesn’t seem like a simpleton if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ said the Abbot, ‘I have seen too many cold trails these past few years and time is running out if I am to catch the man I seek.’

  ‘I don’t see why you still pursue him,’ said Gerald. ‘It has been fourteen years since your paths last crossed and since then you have become a powerful man, not to say rich.’

  ‘We have both shared the spoils, Gerald, never forget that. I have indeed achieved most things and will go to my grave a satisfied man but this one thing escapes me. If I can deliver on my oath then I will die a happy man.’

  ‘But I still question the reason why. You killed his family, confiscated his father’s lands, broke up his marriage and made an outlaw of him. What more does he have that you could possibly want?’

  ‘His life,’ said the Abbot. ‘I want to see the light fade in his eyes. If I can be the wielder of the blade, then all the better but I will accept being close by.’

  ‘Remind me again of his crime?’

  ‘He blocked my passage to greatness,’ said the Abbot. ‘The true cross of Christ was within my grasp but he interfered and placed it in the hands of the crown. To add insult to injury, I then had to deliver the cross to Rome on behalf of Longshanks and it is now in Papal hands. Without this blacksmith’s interference, I could have used the cross to great affect and perhaps sought a path to cardinalship.’

  ‘Is that possible for a monk?’

  ‘With the right tools and enough wealth, all things are possible, even within the church. Imagine if I presented the holy fragment to the Pope in my name, not the King’s. The Papal gratitude would have been overwhelming.’

  ‘But what is so important about being a cardinal?’

  ‘Only a cardinal can become pope,’ said Father Williams.

  Gerald paused as the information sunk in.

  ‘You wanted to become Pope?’ he asked with incredulity.

  ‘Why is that such a shock to you?’ asked Father Williams.

  ‘I thought that the position was pre-ordained and only the privileged could hold sway in such a position.’

  ‘Gerald, my friend. You of all people know me better than most and I believe that had I gained access to that privileged circle, then I would have been perfectly placed to take advantage of any opportunity. Stranger things have happened throughout history.’

  ‘Indeed they have,’ said Gerald, ‘and actually, I believe that once you had become close enough, then nothing would have prevented you achieving your aims.’

  ‘And therein lies my ire,’ said the Abbot. ‘God gave me one chance, one opportunity to gain the leverage to open certain holy doors but it was denied me by Garyn Ap Thomas and that, my friend, is precisely the reason I want to see him suffer before I die.’

  ‘Understandable, I suppose,’ said Gerald. ‘Are you ready to receive your guest?’

  ‘I am, bring him in.’

  ----

  Hywel Ap Rees stood at the side of the Abbot’s bed, breathing shallowly to avoid the underlying stench of human faeces beneath the heavy perfumes.

  ‘They tell me you are the Sheriff of Builth,’ said the Abbot

  ‘No Father, I am only his liegeman, tasked with returning the guilty to justice.’

  ‘A noble role,’ said the Abbot.

  ‘And one I am very successful at,’ said the Liegeman, ‘hence my claim to know the whereabouts of the man you seek. However, I am also aware this information is of value to you and we all have to pay our way in this world.’

  ‘You get quickly to the point,’ said the Abbot, ‘a trait I admire in men. Tell me what you know and what it is you desire.’

  ‘Let us agree a price first,’ said the Liegeman, ‘and then I will share my tale.’

  ‘And what if I think your story unworthy?’

  ‘Some things are out of my control, Father and I am aware that by the time we return to whence I came our quarry may have fled but I don’t think so. Therefore my proposal is this. We agree a price and I take you or your forces directly to him. The price will be one hundred gold coins dead, or thrice that alive. In addition, I want ownership of all other bounty claimable upon the heads of his men. That way, I am only paid if we are successful.’

  ‘I like the way you barter, Liegeman. The price is high yet based on success. The deal is acceptable to me.’

  ‘One more thing,’ said Hywel, ‘I want the details written down and signed under a seal of authority. It can be yours or the Castellan’s it matters not but it must be legal and admissible in front of any court of the land.’

  ‘Such matters are not usually committed to parchment,’ said the Abbot.

  ‘We are doing nothing illegal, Father. It is a deal between honest men based on the apprehension of those outside the law. The practise is sound.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said the Abbot. ‘I will have the papers drawn up straight away. Now, tell me what you know.’

  ‘Many years ago I was in the pay of an English Lord as a lancer. My Master took the cross and undertook a Crusade to Acre where I stayed for three years. During that time, I was oft stationed within the Constable’s hall and was on one such tour of duty when a petition was made by many men regarding ownership of the true cross.’

  ‘You were there?’

  ‘I was, Father, as a guard on the hall doors. At the time, Acre was rife with the stories of Garyn Ap Thomas and his recovery of the true cross. As we shared a homeland I was particularly interested in the stories and I saw him close up on several occasions.’

  ‘I am aware of that meeting,’ said the Abbot, ‘and hear tell that the blacksmith represented himself before the King. Is this true?’

  ‘Alas, Father, it is not. The man who spoke for him was a follower of your own order, a Benedictine monk called Brother Martin.’

  ‘And you are sure it is the same man you saw?’

  ‘I am. We even had cause to talk briefly but never became comrades in arms. Since then I have oft wondered about his whereabouts and wasn’t surprised that a man of his mettle eventually ended up as the leader of the Blaidd.’

  ‘A rumour only,’ said the Abbot, ‘for no one knows the leader of the Wolves.’

  ‘I mix with many men of distasteful character, Father and I can assure you the rumours are true. Anyway, our paths crossed again not three days past and I recognised him straight away though fortunately, it would seem he has no recollection of me.’

  ‘So what was he doing?’

  ‘He seems to be planning something for he mingles with the destitute, asking question of the locals. I have been told he has frequented several taverns in the area and the conversation always falls to a certain castle and its defences. I believe he may be planning a raid on the supply lines of this fortress and spies upon it to judge the strength of its patrols and the urgency of the response.’

  ‘Can you be sure of this?’

  ‘Nothing is certain, Sire but if we take him alive, then I am sure the Castellan’s torturers can extract the truth.’

  ‘So where is this castle?’

  ‘Father forgive me but the location will be revealed only upon receipt of the signed agreement. I’m sure you will understand.’

  ‘You are a suspicious man,’ said the Abbot, ‘a trait of value in these difficult times.’

  ‘It is why I have lived so long,’ said Hywel.

  The Abbot lay back and closed his eyes for a few moments. Finally he opened then again and turned to one of his servants.

  ‘Have quarters prepared for our guest and furnish it with food and ale.’ He looked at the Liegeman. ‘Am I to assume you would like company to warm your bed?’

  ‘That would be good,’ said Hywel.

  ‘Arrange it,’ said the Abbot to the servant and turned to face the Liegeman again. ‘I will have the document drawn up overnight. In the meantime you will stay here and in the morning, set out with a patrol of men in the pursuit of my quarry. B
ring him to me alive, Liegeman and I will double the price you ask.’

  ‘A generous gesture,’ said Hywel.

  ‘Coins I have aplenty and as I suspect I am not long for this world, what use is there in keeping a hoard when the one thing I most desire is within my grasp. Now, I weaken from my illness so be gone, the scroll and the men at arms will be waiting for you at dawn.’

  Hywel bowed and retreated from the room. When the door closed, a tapestry moved to one side and Gerald of Essex stepped out.

  ‘Do you think he tells the truth?’

  ‘I do,’ said the Abbot, ‘for I too was at that meeting in Acre and I just cast a line of questioning to the Liegeman to uncover any untruths.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I suggested the blacksmith represented himself but this Hywel Ap Rees corrected me and said it was a Benedictine monk who spoke.’

  ‘And was it?’

  ‘It was indeed,’ said the Abbot, ‘one of my own monks had a mistaken sense of loyalty and turned from his brothers to support the blacksmith’s crusade.’

  ‘Does this monk still live?’

  ‘Of course not and I had cause to rob his grave many years ago.’

  ‘You robbed a monk’s grave?’ laughed Gerald.

  ‘There was a need,’ said the Abbot, ‘and again that cursed Garyn came between me and glory. No, I think this Liegeman speaks true and we have a good opportunity.’ He paused. ‘I have a task that needs doing, Gerald and I would entrust it to no other man but you.’

  ‘And what task is this?’

  ‘I want you to carry a message to Garyn Ap Thomas, a sealed note that should be handed to him alone. If you do this for me, I expect the blacksmith to return here of his own free will.’

  ‘Did you not just charge the Liegeman with returning the outlaw here?’

  ‘I did but the blacksmith is a resourceful man and will not submit easily. Just in case, I have another string to my bow, a ruse that will ensnare him as a spider does a fly.’

  ‘I am not surprised but why me? There are countless messengers of lower standing you could call on.’

  ‘Indeed I could but the contents of the letter cannot be seen by normal men. You, Gerald, are not a normal man.’