Medieval III - Sword of Liberty

by Kevin Ashman

  Geraint held his breath and waited to see how Cynan would react but his heart missed a beat when the unexpected happened, one of Cynan’s men stepped from their own lines.

  ‘My heart is no less welsh than yours,’ he shouted, ‘and I say we fight together.’ He drove his sword into the ground before him. ‘This is the sword of Liberty.’

  ‘As is this,’ shouted another as he copied his comrade.

  Once again, hundreds of men were caught up in the fervour until finally the noise fell away and Madog faced Cynan once more.

  ‘Well,’ said Cynan, ‘I’ll say this for you boy, you certainly know how to make a point.’ He held out his arm and Madog grasped his forearm firmly.

  ‘So do we have an alliance?’ asked Madog.

  ‘I’m still unsure about your claim,’ said Cynan, ‘but I will not fight against you. Together we will rid these lands of the stain of Longshanks and when that is done, then and only then will we discuss sovereignty. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Madog and as they grasped each other’s arms in comradeship, the two armies closed in on each other, not as enemies but as comrades.

  Geraint and Tarian looked at the thousands of men around them, each of them brothers committed to the cause.

  ‘It is as big an army as I have seen,’ said Tarian, ‘and feel that at last we will match anything that Longshanks may throw at us.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Geraint, ‘the time is upon us, Tarian, let the liberation begin.’

  ----

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Caernarvon Castle

  Geraint was sleeping in a cot in one corner of the great hall in Caernarfon Castle. The past few days had been momentous but now the real work started as they tried to forge the different factions throughout Wales into a united movement. Cynan had withdrawn his troops southward but had agreed to meet again with Madog along with all the other Lords of Wales at the next full moon to discuss the next steps in the campaign.

  The hour was late when he felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him awake.

  ‘Sire, your presence is requested,’ said a page.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ asked Geraint.

  ‘I know not, Sire, I was just sent to wake you.’

  ‘Where is he?’ asked Geraint sitting up and yawning.

  ‘He is in his quarters,’ said the Page ‘along with some other men.’

  ‘Tell him I will be there directly,’ said Geraint. He walked over to a table and placed his hands in the bowl of water placed there by one of Madog’s servants. He splashed cold water on his face before drying off and donning his clothes and fastening his sword belt.

  When done he left the hall and crossed the courtyard, now free from corpses and screaming men, though the walls were still blackened from the fires. He entered the tower, climbing the staircase to Madog’s quarters where a guard opened the door before him.

  ‘You are expected, Sire,’ said the guard as Geraint walked into a room lit by dozens of candles and a roaring fire.

  Before him he could see several men, Madog, Tarian and two others whom he had never seen before. One was dressed as a noble while the other was obviously little more than a serf.

  ‘Geraint, thank you for coming,’ said Madog, ‘we have grave news.’

  Geraint accepted the offered tankard of warm ale and looked around in confusion, waiting for someone to explain what was happening.

  ‘Geraint,’ said Tarian, ‘this man is Merion Ap Rhys and he is a noble from the South. Think of him as my counterpart and it is through him we speak to our fellows and those who would support us.

  ‘A dangerous role,’ said Geraint.

  ‘Yet a fulfilling one,’ said Meirion, ‘and I have seen acorns of ambition grow into oaks of reality in just a few short months.’

  ‘We live in momentous times,’ said Geraint. ‘So what’s all this about?’

  ‘Geraint,’ said Tarian, ‘we have news of the whereabouts of the Sword of Macsen.’

  ‘I thought this was a dream put aside, ‘said Geraint.

  ‘Indeed it was, ‘said Madog, ‘but it now lays in the hands of the English.’

  ‘Does it matter anymore?’

  ‘Perhaps not but you should know that the Englishman who has the sword is a Knight called Gerald of Essex, Castellan of Brecon Castle and Sheriff of Brycheniog.’

  ‘My home town,’ said Geraint with interest.

  ‘We know,’ said Madog. ‘This man here is called John Miller and he hails from a village just outside Brycheniog.’ The peasant nodded toward Geraint in deference. ‘John came to me with a tale recounting the whereabouts of the sword,’ continued Madog. ‘At first I paid him little heed but he also said that the Castellan had tricked the leader of the Blaidd into handing over the artefact. This raised my interest for I know the Wolves had been tasked with finding the sword and as only a few of us were aware of this fact, it added strength to the miller’s story.’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Tarian, stepping into the conversation, ‘Madog called me in to verify the tale and as only one man knows the true identity of the Blaidd leader, I contacted Meirion to confirm his story or discard it as mere rumour. When he heard the name for himself, Meirion knew the Miller told the truth. It appears the leader of the Blaidd managed to locate the sword but had it wrest from his possession at the last minute. It now lays in the bowels of Brecon Castle.

  ‘Am I to assume you are concerned that it may fall into the hands of Cynan?’

  ‘No, ‘said Madog, ‘that is no longer of consequence but when I heard the name of the man arrested, it jogged a memory and recalled the tales you shared about your time in the holy land and the effort your brother made to free you from captivity.’

  ‘What about them?’ asked Geraint.

  Madog glanced at Tarian before continuing.

  ‘Geraint, the leader of the Blaidd is a man called Garyn Ap Thomas and he hails from Brycheniog.’

  Geraint’s eyes narrowed as he looked around the room.

  ‘There have probably been many men with that name from the town over the years.’ he said slowly.

  ‘Granted,’ said Madog, ‘but Meirion came to know him well over the years and on occasion they shared stories about their past.’ He turned to the fixer. ‘Meirion, perhaps you could take it from here.’

  ‘Geraint,’ said Meirion,’ you will understand that the man I know who leads the Blaidd had to be very careful about hiding his true identity, however, it is true that we became friends and he once told me a little of his past life and I recall he once had a brother. I forget the name but I do remember he said his brother sailed on a quest across the sea and never returned. He also said his father was a blacksmith in Brycheniog.’

  ‘That means nothing.’ said Geraint defensively.

  ‘In isolation perhaps,’ said Meirion ‘but there was one more thing that I remember, something so strange that I never forgot it.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘He also said his brother had a Muslim bride called Misha.’

  Geraint stared in astonishment.

  ‘Then the tale must be true,’ he said quietly, ‘my brother is alive but how can this be? When I returned from the new world I returned to Brycheniog to find my wife had been killed and my brother had been branded an outlaw. I was told he fled the town and was never seen again. I tried to find him but the trail went cold and I assumed he had died from illness or a hangman’s noose. Surely after all these years I would have heard from him?’

  ‘Considering the risks of his new life, he went to great efforts to conceal his identity, as indeed do all the Blaidd,’ said Meirion ‘so it is little wonder that the trail went cold.’

  Geraint’s mind was spinning.

  ‘But if what you say is true, then the man held within Brecon Castle is my brother and if he is indeed held by Gerald of Essex, then his life is truly at risk.’

  ‘But why would that be?’ asked Madog, ‘perhaps Gerald intends just ransoming him back. Indeed, we could sen
d a message to the Knight offering terms.’

  ‘It would be a waste of time,’ said Geraint. ‘Gerald of Essex is a crooked man with close links to the Abbot of Brycheniog and a more evil man has never walked these lands. No, if Garyn is in their hands then his life can be measured in days, if not hours.’

  ‘Sire, if I may, ‘said John Miller stepping forward.

  ‘Speak,’ said Madog.

  ‘Sire, as the man lay dying in my arms he said many things but one of them made no sense.’

  ‘Spit it out,’ said Geraint.

  ‘Sire, he said while the Abbot lives, then the lives of the prisoners are safe but when he dies, as he soon will, then the prisoners will be buried the same day.’

  ‘Prisoners’, asked Geraint, ‘there are more of them?’

  ‘Yes, Sire. Garyn’s son and his ex-wife.’

  ‘Garyn had a son,’ gasped Geraint, ‘no wonder he went back, the Abbot must have used that fact against him.’

  ‘John,’ said Tarian, ‘you say the Abbot will soon be dead, why do you think this?’

  ‘Because it is well known he is very ill and our church has been asked to pray for him.’

  Geraint turned to Madog.

  ‘Sire, I have no way of knowing if this is true or a tale of coincidences but I cannot risk it, I have to get down there and see for myself.’

  ‘Geraint,’ said Madog, ‘everything I have become I owe to you, and the coming campaign will need you at its core, but if by allowing you to go it repays even a tenth of the debt I owe you, then go with my blessing.’

  ‘Thank you Sire,’ said Geraint, ‘I will leave immediately.’

  ‘Do you need a guard?’

  ‘No Sire, I will travel quicker alone and besides, a column of soldiers will only attract attention. If I need military strength, I will approach Cynan in your name.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Madog, ‘then travel well, Geraint and I will pray to god you find your brother alive. Get your things together and I will have your horse prepared.’

  Geraint grasped the Prince’s arm in gratitude before running from the room.

  ----

  An hour later he rode his horse through the repaired eastern gate of the town walls but as he turned to take the road southward a rider approached out of the darkness.

  ‘Who goes there?’ asked Geraint, his hand reaching for his sword.

  ‘Hold your arm, Geraint,’ said a familiar voice,’ I trust it will be needed before this thing is over.’

  ‘Tarian,’ said Geraint in surprise, as his friend approached, ‘what are you doing here?’

  ‘You didn’t think I would leave you go alone, did you?’ he asked.

  ‘But who will advise the Prince in your absence?’

  ‘The Prince is no longer a boy, Geraint, he will manage fine.’

  Geraint paused but realised his friend was right.

  ‘There is no way of knowing how this will turn out, Tarian, and this Gerald is a treacherous man. The chances are we could die on this task.’

  ‘Then it will be a task no different to any other.’ said Tarian.

  Silence fell between them.

  ‘So,’ said Tarian eventually, ‘am I welcome or not?’

  ‘You are,’ said Geraint grasping his friend’s arm.

  ‘Good,’ because I was coming anyway. Now, let’s go and get your brother.’

  The two men spurred their horses southward while behind them, a young Prince sat alone in a candle lit room, poring over charts and drawings of castles, making plans on how to break Edward’s ring of steel.

  ----

  In the East an English King stood in his bedchamber, staring out over the city below.

  ‘Come in,’ said Edward, as a knock came on the door.

  Nicholas Fermbaud entered the room.

  ‘Sire,’ he said quietly ‘the army is finally ready, we await your command.’

  ‘Good,’ said Edward. ‘Send word to my Squire, ready my armour and prepare my horse. Tomorrow at first light we ride into Wales and crush this rebellion once and for all. This Madog Ap Llewellyn may have experienced some minor victories but he has raised my ire and if he thinks he can call himself Prince then he can think again. Let the word be spread throughout Wales, Fermbaud, tell our beleaguered Castellans to take heart and hold out a while longer for help is at hand. Longshanks is coming.

  ----

  In the south, Garyn lay beaten on the stone floor of a wet dungeon, hoping against hope that his worst enemy didn’t die anytime soon. As he lay on the floor a rivulet of his own blood flowed slowly past him, the result of his most recent beating. His hand crept forward and using his finger to form the words in the blood, he wrote the name of the son he never knew he had.

  ‘…Thomas…’

  The end

  Author’s notes

  As usual this book is loosely based around facts from the time but it has to be said, the work is a fiction tale so any inaccuracies were probably necessary for the story to progress.

  Madog Ap Llewellyn

  Although our story refers to a young man called Madog who takes on the might of the English Army, the real Madog was much older and proved a serious threat against Longshanks during the Welsh revolt from 1294 – 1295. He was a minor noble from Ynys Mon and claimed the title, Prince of Wales during the revolt.

  The Ring of Steel

  There was indeed a concentrated building programme of castles throughout Wales during this time and while some of these were built by others, Edward the First was responsible for creating probably the greatest of them all, namely Caernarfon, Conway, Beaumaris and Harlech. Along with his other castles in Wales, they were collectively referred to as the Ring of Steel and were considered impregnable by all who saw them.

  The Siege of Castel Du Bere

  In or around 1294, Castell du Bere fell to a Welsh force of rebels. Little is known about the siege except for the fact that the castle seemed to have fallen very quickly and as its position protects it from any large concentration of siege engines, one can only speculate that there was some other reason for its downfall. After its destruction it was never rebuilt and Edward himself felt the castle was a grievous loss to his defences.

  Cynan Ap Maredudd

  Cynan was a Welsh War Lord who fought against the English throughout Wales. He had many victories to his name and some speculate that he was the responsible for the fall of Castle Du Bere.

  Caernarfon Castle

  Due to the spiralling costs of Edward’s campaigns in Scotland and France, Edward withdrew funding for the completion of Caernarfon castle in the mid 1280’s This meant that part of the castle walls were unfinished and it is believed that Madog took advantage of this during the assault in 1294.

  Caernarfon Town

  Before Madog could reach the castle, he had to breach the town walls. This in itself was a formidable task as it was well fortified and occupied mainly by English immigrants. It is recorded that on the day of the attack, the people of the town were enjoying a summer fair and may have been caught unawares. A terrible slaughter was carried out in the town and many of the walls were damaged along with the port. The sheriff of Ynys Mon was apparently captured in the town and hung as a traitor.

  Segontium

  Segontium is a Roman fort on a nearby hill. It is believed that Edward selected the location of the Castle, not only for its tactical location but also its proximity to the fort, perhaps for spiritual or mystical reasons.

  Siege Engines

  There were many different types and designs of catapults and probably some that we are not even aware of. However, the two mentioned in the story seemed extremely popular at the time. Trebuchets were particularly good at longer distance, (see one in action here) especially with heavier loads while Mangonels, a smaller version, were far more accurate. It is interesting to note that similar to a scene from our story above, there is a documented record regarding the use of a trebuchet during the siege of Auberoche in 1334 by the French, where a
n English messenger was hurled over the walls of the castle with his messages tied around his neck.

  The Dream of Macsen Wledig

  The Mabinogion, a famous welsh book from the middle ages, recalls the dream of Macsen Wledig and it is believed that Macsen refers to the Emperor Magnus Clemens Maximus who died in 388ad. Ellen Lleyddog, otherwise known as Ellen of the Hosts wed the Emperor and eventually became known as St Helen of Caernarvon. Many tales record the Emperor as staying and eventually dying in Wales.

  The Sword of Macsen

  We can only wonder whether the Emperor was buried with his Gladius but if he was, then we can probably say it lies alongside him still.

  Best regards

  Kevin

  More Books by K. M. Ashman

  The India Sommers Mysteries

  The Dead Virgins

  The Treasures of Suleiman

  The Mummies of the Reich

  The Tomb Builders

  The Roman Chronicles

  Roman I – The Fall of Britannia

  Roman II – The Rise of Caratacus

  Roman III – The Wrath of Boudicca

  Roman IV – Boudicca’s Daughters – (Coming Soon)

  The Medieval Saga

  Medieval I – Blood of the Cross

  Medieval II – In Shadows of Kings

  Medieval III – Sword of Liberty

  Medieval IV – Ring of Steel

  Novels

  Savage Eden

  The Last Citadel

  Vampire

  Audio Books

  Medieval – Blood of the Cross

  The Last Citadel

  Follow Kevin’s blog at:

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