The Throne

by Griff Hosker

  I heard Roger’s voice, “Aye, lord, you be careful now. If I don’t bring the two of you back, her ladyship will have my bollocks fried up for breakfast!”

  The Earl shook his head, “You allow your men such informality?”

  I laughed, as I spurred Hart, “My lord, that is how we all talk to each other. At the end of the day our titles are just that, a title. It is what is within that makes or mars us.”

  We left the road and headed across the scrubland which lay between us. I fixed my eye on the two scouts. They had halted when they saw us leave the column. I had fifteen archers with me. The ground was open. There were no trails but we were not galloping. Stephen edged his horse next to mine. “And what is the plan, my lord?”

  “We cross through the wall. Apparently, there are breaches along it. They were the gates in times gone by. When the Scots see the Earl and his men they will flee. Our task is to pin them down so that the Earl and the rest of our men can attack them.”

  “Do we know numbers, my lord?”

  “The scouts will tell us.”

  Once we neared it, I saw that there was a trail of a sort which led up to the wall. We rode along it in single file. It climbed between scrubby trees and bushes. We emerged close to the wall itself. A path ran next to it. We headed east. The two scouts had dismounted and were drinking from their skins. They bowed, “The warband has just passed through the old fort, lord. They are heading for the road. My guess is that they are heading for Hexham and the abbey there.”

  “His lordship said you would know of a place to halt them.”

  “Aye, lord, The fort. This is the biggest gap along the wall for a few miles. There are little ones but they would only allow a man at a time to pass through. His lordship probably thought to hold them north of the wall but they have obliged us by heading to the road. We counted at least ten knights and squires. Their horses can only cross by this gate or the next one which is four miles along the wall.”

  “How many men in total?”

  “More than two hundred, lord. The Scots are wild warriors and move without any order. Numbers are hard to estimate. There are no more than forty men on horses, lord.”

  “Then lead on.”

  We rode through woods. The path rose and fell. Then it began to climb and I saw a tower ahead on the left. The scout said, “That is the start of the fort, lord.”

  “Then let us dismount and walk our horses.”

  My decision proved to be a good one. The woods stopped and I saw the half-ruined walls of the fort. The scouts were right. This would be the best place to stop them. I saw the Scots. They had reached the road and were heading east. There was little order about them. They moved as a mob. Only the horsemen displayed any order. I also saw the Earl and his men. They were walking along the road not galloping. Once they began to gallop then the Scots would be alerted.

  The hill fort was typically Roman and rectangular. I saw a gate and a gap in the south wall. The wall proper had just one gap in it. There were no longer any gates, they had long disappeared, but four men could ride through it. We entered through the west gate. I saw that rain had made a natural trough in the rocks. “Hobble the horses close to the water. You scout, what is your name?”

  “Oswald, my lord.”

  “Well, Oswald, we will try to hold them here and use the natural defences of this fort. I want you and your companion to try to block the north gate. Use anything you can. Roll stones, cut some of the gorse. Do whatever you think will slow them. If they pass us, I want them delayed.”

  “Aye, lord.”

  I draped my cloak over Hart’s back and took my helmet and shield. I walked to the south gate and peered through. The Earl and his men were now galloping and the Scots had seen him. The Scots must have decided that they were in danger of being caught and they turned to run back to the gate and escape north. The English archers on foot were heading directly across the scrubland towards the fort. The Scots were closer to the fort than the Earl. I shouted to my men, “There is a fighting platform. Fill it between the south gate and the fallen piece of wall.”

  “Aye, lord, and what of you and Master Tom?”

  “Why, we will stand in the gate and see if we can slow them down!”

  “My lord, you are as mad as a pail full of frogs. Come lads. Silent David, you take the west edge and I will be close to Sir William. Much and Garth, you go on the other side of the gate. Keep your swords handy.”

  I pulled up my coif and donned my helmet. I turned to Tom. He held a spear. “Your place is just behind me to my left. You will stop any from attacking that side of me. Strike hard. The first men will be mounted and mailed. Hit at the men’s legs or the horse’s heads.”

  “Aye, father.” I saw his face. He was afraid but determined, “I will not let you down.”

  “Good, for that means you will run when I fall. If you have to tell your mother that I died up here in the north then she will be a more formidable foe than any wild Scot.”

  He laughed, “Aye, you are right there.”

  I saw that the Scots had reached the track which wound its way up to the south gate. The Romans had chosen the site of their fort well. The ditch ran all the way around and the only way to cross it was by the gate. The only warriors they would see would be my son and I. The Earl of Fife and his men were cutting across the scrubland to get to us. The hill men archers were actually keeping pace with the horsemen. The Earl of Westmoreland had spread the knights and men at arms in a long line. They were like hunters beating game. The Scots, too, were spread out. They could not know about the ambush which awaited them. The horsemen were on the road but the mass of men, those on foot, were just heading any way they could to cross the wall. The broken section of wall would be where they would try to cross for the horses would struggle with the ditch and they would have to brave the gate and the foolish knight and squire who stood to bar their passage.

  I drew my sword and kissed it. A shaft of light glinted off my sword and I was seen. I saw the leader. I took it to be the Earl of Fife for he had a standard bearer behind him and, even at six hundred paces distance, I could see that he had plated armour. None of his knights, and I counted eight of them, had spears. The leader pointed his sword at me and four knights began to gallop their horses up the slope. It was a steep one and they laboured. They overtook the Earl. They were going to clear us from the gap.

  I shouted, “Stephen, wait until they are forty paces from us. I do not want them to know our numbers yet. They have no mail on their horses. One arrow for the horse and one for the knight. Can you do it?”

  “Aye, lord. Consider it done.”

  I saw that the knights were poorer knights than the Earl. They had no plate. My archers had knight killers and war arrows. They would use bodkins for the knights and swallowtail arrows for the horses. The four knights had open faced helmets. Behind them I saw the other knights, led by the Earl of Fife. They were forty paces from the four who anticipated sweeping us from the gate. I saw that the Earl of Westmoreland had already caught some of the Scots on foot at the rear. I guessed that they were the ones who still had booty or were slower. They were hacked down.

  There was no command from Stephen but I heard the whoosh of my men’s arrows. The Scottish knights must have thought that we were either very brave or very foolish. They had raised their swords to strike us when all four were plucked from their saddles and the four horses were hit. One horse fell for the arrow had penetrated its skull. The others reared or pulled to the side. The riders fell.

  I shouted, “Now Stephen, take out the others!”

  Fifteen arrows, heavy war bodkins all, were sent towards the knights and mounted men at arms who were less than eighty paces from us. They could not miss. However, there were just fifteen of them and although the Earl of Fife’s standard bearer and squire fell, the Earl’s plate saved him and he closed with me. My archers did the right thing. They concentrated on the mounted men who were racing towards the wall. They left the Earl for m
e. I heard a wail from the Scots further down the slope as the Earl of Westmoreland’s foot archers began to send arrows at them and the Earl led my men at arms to begin to harvest the Scots.

  The Earl of Fife charged at me. He rode a courser. He came for my right side. That pleased me for it meant Tom would still be safe. The Earl did so in order to allow him to strike me with his sword. There was barely a gap and his horse would have to brush the wall. Perhaps he thought I would flinch but I was confident that the effort of making the rise would have slowed the horse almost to a walk. He tried to urge the horse through the gateway. The arch still remained and he had to lower his head. Even better was the fact that he had to swing his sword sideways. As his horse snapped at me, I lifted my shield above my head. The Earl’s sword almost skittered across the angled shield. I had little to strike at and so I rammed my sword between his leg and his horse. My sword had a good edge and it sliced through the leather strap holding his stirrup. That might not have been a disaster but my sword also sliced along the horse’s belly. The horse lurched forward and, as it broke through the gate and headed left, he was thrown from his horse.

  I shouted to Tom, “Watch the gate!”

  I knew that I was taking a risk leaving Tom alone but the Earl of Fife was still unhurt. My archers had thinned out the knights and men at arms. They were still coming up the track but more slowly as they were using their shields for protection. Two more horses had been struck and unhorsed their riders. I ran to the Earl of Fife and put my sword to his throat. “Yield!” He hesitated, “Yield or I will slay you where you lie!”

  “I yield! I yield!”

  I turned and ran. An unhorsed knight ran at Tom. My son showed courage. He stood his ground. He blocked the sword blow with his shield and then thrust at the knight’s leg. The knight wore poleyns and was weakly struck. The blow did no harm. The knight raised his sword again. I did not hesitate. I did not care for ransom. This was my son whose life was in danger. Even as he raised his sword to end Tom’s life I hacked down on his right arm with my sword. He wore mail but my sword hacked through it and broke his arm. The edge came away bloody. As he dropped to the ground, I raised my sword to end his life, “I yield!” The knight valued his life.

  A man at arms and the knight’s squire ran at us both. The man at arms had fishtailed metal plates and a kettle helmet. He was a grizzled veteran. I left the squire to Tom. Leaving the protection of the gate I ran at the veteran. The man at arms had a war hammer. He swung the beak like end at my head. Had I used my shield then he would have torn a hole in it and, worse, ripped it from my grasp. I hacked up and across with my sword. Not only did I deflect the hammer I hacked a chunk from the haft. I was above him and so I pushed at his face ramming my shield upwards as I did so. The edge caught his kettle helmet and the leather strap broke. The helmet flew from his head. As he looked up in surprise, an arrow flew from the walls. It hit him square in the forehead and the tip emerged from the back of his head. I looked back and saw Much Longbow grinning. I nodded to him.

  I turned to return to the gate and saw Tom duck beneath the swashing sword of the squire and then back hand his sword across the padded jacket of the squire. It ripped through the material and across his stomach. The squire looked in horror as his guts spilled forth. I joined my shocked son, “It is not yet over. Be strong.”

  We turned to face the Scots who still ran at us. The knights and mounted men at arms who had survived had taken off towards the east. Oswald had told me there were more gates there. That left the men on foot. As they struggled up the hill, they were attacked from two sides, my archers to the fore and the Earl of Westmoreland’s archers, knights and men at arms from the other. They split up. Some ran east and some ran west.

  The Earl shouted an order and my men at arms rode west while he led the others to the east. There were no enemies left for us to fight. The Scottish squire was still alive. He looked up at Tom, “How did you manage to kill me? You are a boy!”

  Tom was too shocked to speak. The sight of someone, just a couple of years older dying before him had robbed him of words. I knelt next to him, “Make your peace with God, son. I am no priest but I can hear your confession if you wish.”

  “I am sorry I…” He died.

  I was not certain if merely saying the word sorry would grant him admission to heaven but I had done my best.

  I went to the knight whose arm was bleeding. “Was he your squire?”

  He nodded, “My brother. He was twenty. When we returned home, he was to be knighted.”

  I shook my head as I tore part of the knight’s surcoat to fashion a bandage for his wrist, “He was not ready. He was beaten by a squire of fourteen summers.” I fashioned a tight bandage to stop the bleeding. “Tom, go to the horses and fetch honey and vinegar. I might save the arm yet.”

  By the time I had dressed and bandaged the wound, our men were returning. I saw that the Earl of Westmoreland had gathered horses and brought with him two knights. He dismounted at the gate, “Bravely done, Strongstaff. You and your son are doughty warriors. I am sorry if I offended you with my comments about your birth.”

  I smiled, “No offence taken, my lord. I have two knights for ransom. As one is the Earl, I am guessing it will be a good one.”

  “Aye, it will be.”

  “Then I beg leave to return home. I trust that you will send me what I am owed.”

  “Of course. Will you not stay to see them humiliated when they fetch the fortune?”

  “That does not interest me. I have two horses. As soon as we can I would head for home. You have more than enough men to guard the prisoners, have you not?”

  “Of course. You are a strange man, Strongstaff. I have not met your like before.” He headed to his men to give them orders.

  My archers had descended the walls while I had tended the wounded knight. They had taken all that they could from the bodies of the men and knights they had slain. They took a further two Scottish horses which they used as sumpters. Finally, they retrieved every arrow that they could. They would salvage some flights and tips as well as some arrows which could be reused. Tom had searched the dead squire. He brought me his sword, dagger, purse, a crucifix and a ring. I shook my head. “They are yours but I would return the ring and crucifix to his brother.”

  “Aye, father.

  “And then fetch the purse, sword, rings, dagger and plate from the Earl of Fife.”

  The Earl had heard me, “But I yielded!”

  “That gives you your life. Think yourself lucky I do not take the hauberk too.”

  My men and I were ready to leave before the men of Westmoreland. I bade Sir Ralph Neville farewell. “I think we will see each other again, my lord.”

  “Aye, I can see that. The ransoms will be sent to Weedon. Fare ye well.”

  Chapter 18

  We spent the night at the abbey. The Abbot was more than happy to accommodate us. They had seen the approach of the Scots and had feared for their lives. As my men shared their booty, they expressed satisfaction. We had managed to do that which we had wanted. We had practised the art of war. We had lost neither man nor horse and come away with booty. That was the main reason I had left the Earl so quickly. We had done all that was required to keep my men and myself happy.

  When we reached Middleham I left the Earl’s horse with Red Ralph. I had wounded it and it needed healing. Ralph was happy to do so. Roger and Stephen dined with us and Red Ralph enjoyed every arrow and stroke of sword as they told of the battle. “Serves the Scots right. They will think twice before coming south again. You have done us all a favour, Will.”

  “I hope so. I will send Ralph back to you in six months to collect the war horse.”

  “Thank you, Will.” He looked at his wife and patted the back of her hand. “Just think my love, my son may become a knight one day!”

  I nodded and added more good news, “And that means a manor. You could have a farm on his land!”

  Red Ralph shook his head, “When my s
on becomes a noble, he will not need people looking at the mercenary who was his father.”

  “Ralph, that was me too.”

  “Will, you were made differently to the rest of us. The Black Prince saw that. He saw, in you, some nobility. Answer me true, if it was not for you, would my son be a squire?” My silence was eloquent, “There you have it but when my son does have a manor then I shall die a happy man. The blood of Red Ralph will be noble. My grandchildren will want for nothing and that pleases me.” We stayed for a few days in Middleham before we headed south.

  After we reached Weedon we divided the goods we had taken equitably. The horses were part of the booty as was the mail and plate. Tom now had a good sword and I took the Earl of Fife’s as a spare. It was a good one but mine was its equal and felt better balanced in my hand. My wife, for once, said little for she was just relieved that her son and husband had survived.

  The first evening Tom was besieged by Harry, and Alice. They wanted to know how he had gained such a good sword. I sat before my fire and spoke with Eleanor while my son patiently answered their questions. “Is the hall at Dauentre better than this?”

  She nodded and smiled, “It is, my husband, but I think I would prefer to stay here. I told John to be lord in the hall until you returned.”

  “I will ride there with some of my men at arms and archers. It is not right for poor John and Ralph to be alone. What of the burghers?”

  “Oh, they think they are better than they are. They have a market and seem to think it gives them the right to look down on other folk.” I now knew the real reason why she chose to stay in Weedon. She, like me, hated snobbery worse than almost anything. “All the market does is make them rich. You might want to bring the accounts of the manor here, husband. I am not sure that the reeve is an honest man.” The manor might have a better hall but my wife was a practical woman, here we had friends. There we would have tenants.

  I laughed, “Apart from John’s father, when did you ever hear of an honest reeve? I will ride there tomorrow and take Father Thomas with me. Let him cast his eye over the accounts. He knows better than any a dishonest one. He worked with Father Raymond.”