Sir William is well known to the guards and we pass through the castle gate without even slowing down. And then it happens - as we ride up the steeply inclined path from the gate to the keep above us my horse somehow slips on the wet cobblestones and goes down with a heavy thud and a horse scream.
My panicked horse struggles to her feet and bolts away to the side and then downhill towards the gate with one of Sir William's riders hot on her heels; I, on the other hand stay down with painful twisted ankle and my miter goes flying.
I stay down until a very solicitous Sir William and several of his men quickly dismount and help me to my feet - and I can only stand on one leg if I lean on my crosier. The other is numb and can't take the weight.
"Are you all right, Bishop? Can you stand?" he asks as one of his men hands me my miter and they all try to steady me while I clap it back on my head.
Twenty minutes later Sir William and his men are gone and I'm sitting on a stool in a little room in the keep.
After a while a dirty and incredibly smelly old monk claiming to be a barber and bonesetter is clucking over my damn painful ankle and sagely telling me what I already know - it's badly bruised and sprained.
My God, he must be one of those monks I've heard about who think Jesus never wiped his arse so they shouldn't either. Why would they ever think that?
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My mood is foul and I start to say something to the monk a bishop would rarely say. That's when the king walks in with William Marshal and a half dozen or so of his courtiers trailing behind.
I try most manfully to get to my feet - and end up hopping a couple of times on my good leg and sitting back down while my miter falls off and hits the floor. What an embarrassment.
I think the king started to laugh but caught himself and put on a grave face instead.
"Please sit, Bishop. You have our permission under the circumstances." ...."I understand your horse went out from under you on the cobblestones; are you sufficiently gathered to speak with us?"
"Thank you, Your Majesty; you do me great honor by inquiring about my unexpected and sad condition. I am at your service and yours to command in any way you wish."
Lay the ox shit on with a trowel whenever you're with royalty; that's my advice. They think they deserve it though only God knows why.
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"Sir William here has told me some of your news, Bishop Thomas, and I have, of course, read your letter and know you are close to the Earl of Cornwall as his religious advisor. What can you tell me about the events in Devon? You were there weren't you?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, I was there - and I saw God's work being done right before my eyes. If I hadn't seen it with my very own eyes I would not have believed it, Your Majesty. Your enemies rode their horses straight on to the stakes of the Earl's archers."
"It is undoubtedly the result of the God looking so favorably upon you and, of course, the Pope's special prayers that the Earl and his men not be stopped or slowed in their efforts to assist the pilgrims and refugees in the Holy Land."
"And Lady Isabella of Gloucester?"
"Happily married to a crusader your Majesty and all recorded proper-like in the local parish.
Then I charged on.
"No doubt her marriage to Lord Courtenay is God's will as well - since it provided God's validation of her annulment and enabled the earl to buy Oakhampton so he can block any attack on your supporters in Cornwall. The earl impoverished himself to do it, don't you know." Such ox shite. We just took it without paying a penny.
"Yes, I can see that now. God is with me."
King John seems fascinated by what he hears and sees God's hand in everything that happens. He spends more than an hour asking me all kinds of questions about William and Cornwall.
What happened when the French knights killed Lord Edmund's wife and daughters; FitzCount's challenge to William and his just death; why Cornwall is so poor that it can't even support priests and the earl must go to the Holy Land to earn the coins to buy food for his men. And many other such things like that.
I made much about Cornwall being so poor that I have to use traveling Bodmin Monastery monks instead of priests in its few parishes and even the Romans didn't build a road to it. I did it deliberately - I don't want the king to even think about giving someone a fief in Cornwall. He's already got the revenues from the tin mines and that's enough.
Then our conversation becomes more down to earth and gets beyond "God's Will" and into more practical matters.
The king wants to know how much money I am saving by using monks instead of priests in Cornwall's parishes and letting them and the common folk in the hundreds do their own justice since there are no priests and manors.
I tell him it's not much that I save by letting the monks and hundreds do the justice - it's that we have no choice but to use them because my parishes are so poor that they don't have enough coins and extra food to support priests and manors.
Of course the people in the parishes don't have extra crops and livestock to give to the church; they sell it all to us so we can feed ourselves and our men - and they don't have any coins for the church because they use the coins we pay them to pay their taxes and rents and buy their rakes and seeds and such. But I'm certainly not going to tell him the truth, am I?
"Monks require less food from the parishes than the priests, Sire, and they have their own food at Bodmin which owns just about all of Cornwall's good lands." And it has franklins on its lands because it no longer has serfs and slaves - William and I saw to that, didn't we?
What I don't tell the king is that it isn't the shortage of coins that causes us to use the Bodmin monks - it's that they treat the common folk better and demand less from them, probably because they can go back to Bodmin to eat and enjoy themselves among their friends.
The only time the king surprises me is when he asks whether it was on Cyprus or in front of Constantinople's walls when we first began to realize that the Earl of Cornwall enjoys God's special protection just as he does.
"I believe it was at Constantinople, Your Majesty."
It's all ox shite, of course, but the king seems to believe God wanted him to be king and for things in Devon to turn out as they did for the barons who opposed him.
Then the king asked what I think the king wanted to know most - where William is and how much help can he provide when the king and his army return to France next month to once again campaign against the French?
"I'm not sure where the Earl of Cornwall is, Your Majesty; he may already be on his way to the Holy Land, but I'm not entirely sure. As you know, he's often away on God's business because it's the only way he can feed his family and his men since Cornwall is so poor it can't even support knights and priests."
"But one thing I do know for sure, Your Majesty. I know the Earl of Cornwall is one of your most loyal supporters and will do everything he can to help you in France. He hates the French you know."
I know William's not in Cornwall; he's almost certainly still at Oakhampton Castle with a company of Marines. I also know that few, if any, of our ships and archers are going to be "available" to be pissed away in France by the king.
The King is obviously not fully persuaded or put off by my answer.
"I don't care where he is. I want you to get a message to him telling him he is to report to me or William Marshal in Dover with all of his available ships and men before the tenth day of June. I won't require any scutage or taxes of him because I know he cannot pay them."
Damn, scutage would have been better. Maybe I shouldn't have convinced the king we are so terribly poor.
"I will, Your Majesty, you can depend on me."
For the longest while the king just stands there staring at me with his eyes not blinking. Finally he turns and he and his entourage walk away without saying another word.
I'm left alone in the dimly lighted room and desperately need to relieve myself - so I limp over to the corner of the room furthest from the door and think a
bout what the king said and many other things whilst I pee against the wall and think about what I should do.
It would seem that the king accepts Lady Isabel's marriage and William's ownership of Oakhampton. But you can never tell with royalty, can you? I wonder how my horse is doing and if I can leave.
Chapter Thirteen
The end of May of 1202 is a busy time of the year for the archers. A wet and hungry Thomas finds his horse and rides back to London from Windsor with two of William Marshall's men as guards. He and Peter immediately sail for Cornwall to return the boys to their studies. Then they ride to Oakhampton to talk with William.
So far as they know their previous assignments are still in effect - Peter will go to Rome with Thomas to see how the Pope is paid. He needs to know so he can make the payments in the future if Thomas is not available. Angelo Priestly will learn the boys while Thomas is gone and Helen and her sisters will mother them.
On the other hand, perhaps all that will change now that we hold Oakhampton and William must go to Dover.
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As soon as they arrive in Cornwall and Thomas and Peter take the boys to Restormel and then ride on to Oakhampton to report to William about the meeting with the king. They need to explain why Raymond left London without all the horses and why the boys came back with them on the galleys instead of riding their horses back with Raymond.
They came back on the galley, of course, because the more Thomas thought about what William Marshall told him the more he worried about the potential danger to the boys from the northern barons who'll be coming south to report to the army the king is forming at Dover - they might have heard about Oakhampton and take revenge.
The welcome Thomas and Peter receive when they finally reach Oakhampton is both effuse and unexpectedly strained. No one says a word but it is obvious that Isabel and William are besotted with each other and are unhappy about the king's order for William to report to Dover.
Thomas and Peter pick up on it immediately despite the lovers' efforts to cover it up - so they make their report over some hastily assembled bread and cold chicken, and ride straight back to Launceston and Restormel.
Neither of them says a word and they both silently wonder what it means.
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Five days later a somber William rides into Restormel with some of Raymond's outriders. Thomas would be pleased if he'd seen William during the ride - he'd spent most of the time practicing with the two knives he wears strapped to his wrists under his tunic.
William returns to a warm reception. George and the sisters and their children are happy to see him. Within hours it's as if he'd never been away.
The next morning William and his lieutenants discuss the king's demands - and conclude that William has no choice but to answer the king's call to arms and report to the army the king is mustering at Dover.
Everyone agrees. William will have to take at least two galleys and some men to Dover to keep the King sweet. They also agree that the ships' crews should be changed.
William will take ships to the king that are heavy with sailors and the galleys carrying Thomas and Martin should be heavy with Marines moved from the galleys going to Dover.
Our explanation for the changing of the galley crews, if any of us are ever asked, will be that the two galleys going to the Mediterranean need to be mostly Marines in case Thomas and Martin run into pirates.
In contrast, those going with William to Dover need to have as many as possible of our best sailors on board so they can carry King John safely to France if the weather in the channel suddenly turns bad.
The real goal of changing the galley crews, of course, is to so reduce the fighting ability of the ships' crews such that the king and William Marshall won't require them to disembark and join the king's army.
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"Act poor and moan about how poor Cornwall is because the king gets all the tin revenues and the church has all the good land - that's what I told the king. It explains why we don't have priests and gentry in the parishes and none should be send."
That had been Thomas's advice last night as we sat around the long table in Restormel's great hall. And Thomas repeated it once again to me before he climbed aboard his galley.
Then we all watch and wave as Thomas swings his leg over the rail of Rolf's galley and makes his way through the chickens and sheep stacked up everywhere on its deck. Rolf's galley is crowded with supplies because it's a long way to Rome and the fewer food and water stops that have to be made the better.
Thomas's galley had already drifted down the river and was out of sight around the bend when we watched and waved once again as Martin Archer repeated the process with the galley he is taking out to Cyprus and on to Constantinople to be the sergeant of its station .
As soon as Martin's galley cast off, and even before it got to the bend in the river, the two galleys I'll be taking to Dover tomorrow came up to the dock and started loading supplies for my departure in the morning.
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I won't need nearly so many supplies and livestock for my relatively short voyage to Dover. But I'm taking no chances - I'm taking a lot of living chickens and sheep and other provisions because I don't know how long our galleys will be without access to decent food. King John is not famous for providing for his men.
The supplies I'll be taking are already being prepared for loading. I can hear the bleating of the sheep we'll be carrying. They're in the holding pen next to the dock.
This afternoon some of the sheep will be butchered and then, in the morning as soon as the sun comes up, the rest of them will have their hamstrings cut to nobble them so they can't move about when they're piled up on our decks. They'll last longer that way won't they?
We finished waving our farewells and walk back together up the cart path to Restormel as soon as Martin's galley cast off and drifted around the bend in the river and passed out of sight.
There are quite a number of people on the path with me: Helen and her sisters and their infants, George and the boys and Ranulph Priestly who learns them when Thomas is not available, and Peter who will be in charge in Cornwall while Thomas and I are away.
That's when I finally realize how big my family has become - and there's not a thing I would do to change it.
Chapter Fourteen
It is the second day June in the year of our lord 1202 when William takes leave of the sisters and sets off with two galleys full of sailors to meet the King John and William Marshal at Dover Castle.
The channel was unusually calm and the two galleys made good time from Cornwall. They follow one right behind the other as their crews row them into the crowded Dover harbor on a bright and sunny Thursday afternoon.
What is instantly obvious to William and his men as they enter the harbor is that something big is underway - there is no room at the dock and the harbor is packed with all kinds of ships from little fishing boats to big cargo cogs.
Sailors idling on the ships in the harbor watch as Edward from Portsmouth, the snaggly toothed four stripe sergeant captaining William's galley, finally finds a place to his liking and orders an anchor heaved over the side to take it.
The other galley comes in behind them, throws out its own anchor, and then pays out its anchor line until it is positioned next to Edward's. Sailors quickly lash the two galleys together.
William came ashore in the galley's dinghy after eating some bread and cold chicken. Water parties from both galleys are already on the beach with water skins.
All of the men, including William, are in identical brown tunics with long sleeves. The only difference is that sailors have brown stripes sewn on the front and back of their tunics to designate their rank and the Marines have black stripes. It's hard to tell them apart unless you know what to look for.
William's men are ashore to fetch water from the little fresh water stream that runs into the harbor. They know they're supposed to carry the skins upstream until they come to where there is no one is further upstream
to piss or shite into it. And he's going with them to be sure they do.
But before I do anything else I need to report in to the King or William Marshall. That's what William is thinking to himself as he vaults over the very front of the dinghy to keep his leather sandals from getting wet.
A very nervous pair of three stripe sailor sergeants are waiting for him at the water's edge - obviously the men commanding their galley's water fetching party.
"Captain, me and John here have a problem," the older and probably more senior sergeant says even before my feet hit the beach.
"Some lords and such with colored clothes and feathers in their caps, young'uns they was, came over and asked us what we were doing. When we told them we was going upstream to get clear water they told us not to leave the beach."
"They said if the water here was good enough for them it was good enough for us."
"They say why?"
"No Captain, they didn't, just that we shouldn't leave the beach. I think they was just idlers trying to act important, impress each other and such like that. But we didn't know what we should do so we waited for you."
"You did the right thing by waiting. That was a good decision."
"Now you and John go on upstream with your men and get good water the way you were told to always do. But don't argue them if they come back and tell you to stop - just stop and return to your ships immediately and send word to me."
Damn. I wonder what really happened and why.
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"Where's the king and his lords?" William inquires pleasantly of some idlers sitting at the end of the dock. Soldiers and servants from the look of the clothes on them.
"Up to the castle" one of the older ones said as he spit out part of the piece of grass he was chewing on and nodded toward the huge fortress on the nearby hill.
"Much obliged to you, I'm sure" William responded and touched his knitted sailor's cap in a semi-salute.
The man nodded back and then surprises him. "You're himself from Cornwall aren't you? I've heard about your clothes and stripes."
William smiled and gave him another little salute as he turned and began following the track from the dock up to the castle.
The Archer's Gold: Medieval Military fiction: A Novel about Wars, Knights, Pirates, and Crusaders in The Years of the Feudal Middle Ages of William Marshall ... (The Company of English Archers Book 7) Page 8
