by Smith, Skye
It was a simple plan, but it did not work as desired. The first arrow shot from a height usually flew high, The lad's first arrow did just that and caused curiosity but no comment in the crowd of enemy soldiers lining the run. That charge of knights came to naught in any case, for both knights made glancing blows against each other's shields, testing each others worth.
In the next charge, the knights were riding in the other direction and the lad refused to shoot any man in the back, even a Norman. There were grumbles about this from the wolvesheads, but they could not fault the lad's sense of fair play in what was just a tournament and not a fight to the death. The lances hit true this time, and Robert's champion had his left arm injured enough that he refused to carry a shield on the next charge.
In the next charge, the lad bent his giant bow to its full extent and took careful aim and then purposefully dropped his aim to account for the height of the wall. The arrow took flight and made a perfect hit on the champion's lance shoulder, which caused the lance to drop to the ground immediately. The knight was lashed violently back in his saddle by the force of his own lance digging into the ground. His shield dropped for five strides of the horse, but that was enough for Robert's champion to spear him mercilessly through the chest.
The riot and melee that immediately erupted between the two groups of Normans that were watching the event, was more brutal than the bowmen could ever hope for. It was Norman against Norman, knight against knight, man at arms against man at arms. The whole time, the bowmen took their time with their targets and sent well aimed heavy arrows towards every man who looked like an enemy leader.
Again that night, Robert mounted the walls and screamed curses and threats at the bowmen. Again the elder second spoke for the troop. "We were not told the rules to this joust,” he explained. "When our champion was so cruelly injured in the second charge that he could no longer hold his shield, we assumed the joust had ended. We were shocked when Rouen's champion took unfair advantage and charged again. We did the only thing we could do to thwart him, we aimed to disarm him. We regret his death as much as anyone. That was not our intent. Our intent was only to stop the cowardly charge."
No one was sure whether Robert believed the tale, but it was a good enough tale to be told to Rouen's army as an explanation. Though Robert would have to pay a stiff fine to the family of the slain man, it was worth the price not to have to face that man in future battles, for he was indeed a great champion, and a brave man whom others followed.
* * * * *
The next day a large marquee was erected in the enemy camp and word spread that William and Matilda had joined Rouen's army. The Conqueror wasted no time before he inspected the camp and the siege. He was not pleased at seeing so many of his men sitting doing nothing. That day the siege began in earnest with a full bombardment of stones, fire, and bolts falling on the castle.
Anso had seen sieges before but never against carefully planned stone fortresses. The days bombardment would have corrupted wooden pale walls, but it barely chipped the stone walls. The tile and lead roofs shed the flaming debris. The height of the hill and the walls of stone combined, defeated the range of normal hand held arbalests, and the range of normal bows. The large cart-mounted arbalests were dangerous, but those huge bolts flew few and far between.
Such high walls had the opposite effect for the defenders. From this height the range of the Yew bows was extreme. Aiming arrows from this height took some getting used to, but the wolfpacks were experts with their bows. The siege engines on the walls also had an extreme range and they focused all their shots on destroying the siege engines of the attackers.
After seeing such a small effect of the first day of earnest siege, Anso ceased to worry about when the Montreuil garrison and the French army would arrive. Any time within the month would do. Or so he thought, but he underestimated the pride of a son fighting his famous father.
Anso and the two wolvesheads had hardly left the wall since the Conqueror had taken charge of the siege. Anso because he so wanted just one clear shot at him. The wolvesheads because they feared that one or more of Robert's men would open the gate to the enemy.
"Play time is over,” sneered one of the wolvesheads. "I wonder what the little twerp will do now. He hasn't the men for a sortie against such strength. William's cavalry would finish them in no time."
"If he is smart, he will hide behind these walls and wait for Fulk to arrive,” replied the other wolveshead.
"Robert is smart,” Anso told them, "He is just not canny. He is a dog not a fox. Find me five volunteers. If he ventures outside the gates, I will follow him and protect him."
"That would be suicide, Ray, I mean, Anso."
"Not if we stay within the range of the bows on the walls,” replied Anso, "and not if the small door in the gate is kept open for us to retreat to. Well, someone has to protect the wee bugger, else we will have spent this year here for naught."
"Bah, someone has to protect his men, not Robert. William won't hurt his eldest son, but he will cut the likes of us to pieces without a thought."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 28 - Ambushing a king in Gerberoi in January 1079
The next day William with a five man escort rode close to the wall to survey the damage from the prior day's assault. Every bow on the wall was nocked and each bowman was itching to be the one to shoot the King of the English, but Robert was on the wall this time, and ordered them to put their arrows away. Instead he leaped down the stairs from the wall two at a time and called for his horse and ten knights.
"The fool,” said the wolveshead, "it must be a trap. It will take months to defeat this castle by siege, but an hour if Robert rushes out and is captured."
"I'm sure that Robert's thinking is the same,” replied Anso, "if he captures his father, he has won all.” He called the five volunteers to him. "Put on your Ely packs, and take only heavy arrows."
The Ely pack was like a porter's triangle pack frame from the Peaks but with a tough, flat wicker basket attached to it. The triangle shape did not hamper the shoulders from the free movement that bowmen required, and took the weight of what was carried to the man's hips. The basket was useful for carrying anything a skirmisher may need during the day, but more important, it covered the back and the neck with a double layer of tough reeds.
Cavalrymen slashed at men on the ground with their swords or skewered them with a lance. The basket was like wearing a light shield on the back. It could block a slash and any glancing jab, and would slow and tangle an arrow point.
Robert rode out with a dozen of his knights in an attempt to trap William. Their plan was obvious. They ran their beasts headlong downhill towards the enemy camp and then turned sharply and raced along the sheep paths that traversed the slope. If they were fast enough they would cut William and his escot off from his camp and drive him up the slope and within range of the bowmen on the walls.
Six bowmen on foot dived out of the small door in the wall and ran as fast as they could directly towards William and his escort. Anso, the young bowman in the lead was skipping over the rough slopes effortlessly as if he were still working the sheep in the high meadows of the Derbyshire Peaks. He signaled to the men following him and pointed to Robert, as he and his knights made their turn, and then motioned to look beyond Robert.
The Conqueror had laid a trap. Armed men were rolling out of their hides in the long wet grasses and standing and now running towards Robert. Anso yelled to his group to keep running straight to William. "Robert can outdistance the first men to show themselves, so he may make it as far as William."
William and his escort had now turned to meet Robert's knights. No one carried pikes or lances. This would be a fight of broadswords. It truly was a trap, because instead of William and his escort racing to get away from Robert's knights, they were waiting for them to close, to delay them. Beyond Robert a hundred men on foot with pike a
xe and spear were forming a line and moving up the slope to trap the errant son.
"Take down the horses, put William's group on foot,” yelled Anso. The men had already nocked and now they let fly. Six arrows flew and six arrows hit horseflesh, each with as much power as a spear. Three horses went down, including William's.
Now the battle lust was coursing in Anso's blood and everything in his vision seemed to slow down. But not his mind, it was racing, and not his reactions, they were keen. He had time to thank his fore thought of plunging his points into a pile of pig shit when he was choosing them. They were now poison arrows, and if he could not kill the bastard William on this day, he would most certainly poison him for a slow and painful death.
Three of William's men were still mounted. William and the other two had used their riding skill to ride their plunging horses to the ground and then throw themselves clear just before they met the ground. William had rolled once and stood up with his sword still in his hand. Two of his men who were still mounted moved to put their horses between him and Robert's charging knights. The third man dismounted on the run and handed his reins to William.
Anso was thinking that he had seen the man's crest before, somewhere along the Thames, as he loosed an arrow at short range and it split through the man's armour and through his heart. William watched his savior slump to the ground and then tried to calm the horse so he could mount it. Something, perhaps a shouted warning, made William turn and raise his sword just as Robert's sword crashed down. Then Robert was passed him and trying to rein in his mount for a fast about face.
The hundred men running up the slope had now met with resistance. Some of the bowmen on the wall who prided themselves on their range were lobbing arrows at them. They were poorly aimed and hit no one, but suddenly those running men had more to worry about than the steepness of the slope.
The two mounted men who had been blocking for William were being slashed at from all sides by Robert's knights. Anso's bowmen, seeing that William and his escort were not going anywhere in a hurry, changed their aim to the pikemen now almost upon the melee of knights. They were aiming and loosing arrow after arrow at the closest pikemen.
The running men suddenly stopped either because they were hit or because the man beside them was hit. They looked around in confusion. These were no longer the un-aimed arrows being lobbed at them from the walls. These were coming in low and hard and stabbing through mail and killing men. From behind them there was a shout and a boy rode towards them at speed from the Rouen camp and he was leading other knights. "Press on, Press on, attack,” he was yelling at the pikemen. "Save my father."
The boy's actions in organizing the pikemen marked him as an obvious target for the skirmishers, and the next arrows in the air hit his horse and he went over the saddle of his tumbling horse and landed heavily.
Robert had turned his horse now and was heading back towards his father with his sword raised. His knights were turned towards the pikemen ready to hold them off. William was mounting his horse. Anso knew that he couldn't allow William to mount. Mounted he could escape as he was now only ten paces from his own pikemen, and Robert's knights had their back to him.
There was a crunch of gravel behind him and the clink of mail. Anso studiously ignored it while he exchanged arrows for a sharper, heavier one. A king wears the finest of armour. He knocked the new arrow and ignored the whumpth of a lung exhaling suddenly and the bump of pole axe bounced harmlessly off his Ely pack and clattering to the ground.
Anso whispered "Die” as he loosed an arrow towards William. It flew true and strong. A killing shot. Just as it was loosed, William reached up, perhaps to grab the saddle horn of his new horse. The arrow went through his hand and pinned his hand to the side of his chest. William dropped back to the ground with both feet and turned to see who had shot him. Anso already had another arrow nocked and as William turned to face him, he drew it quickly to put it through William's face.
Roberts horse pulled into the space between Raynar and William and at the last second Raynar aborted the shot by twisting his bow hand. The arrow flew wide and harmless, but the goose feathers grazed his fingers with a sting like a wasp.
Robert was yelling and waving his sword. "I have the duke. He is my prisoner. Withdraw. Withdraw.” His own knights were not doing well. Despite so many pikemen lying on the ground with arrows in them, enough pikemen had made it to the knights to be dragging them off their mounts and were now doing great harm to them with their weapons.
Since most of Robert's knights were now backing towards Robert, they took up the chant of "fall back to the cover of our bowmen” meaning the bowmen on the walls. Anso's bowmen were sending signals to each other giving the count of arrows left. Most were down to three. It was tradition to save the last three for the retreat.
Luckily for Robert, the tangle of horses between him, his wounded father, and the pikemen of Rouen suddenly cleared and those Rouen pikemen in the fore of the attack saw that Robert held the Duke and that the duke was dismounted and wounded. There was obviously no fight left in the Duke, because otherwise Robert could chance waving his own broadsword above his head as a signal.
Anso stood absolutely still with his next arrow drawn and leveled. Eventually Robert's horse would move one step to the left or three to the right and then he would kill William. Finally.
"Hold, hold, everyone put down your weapons,” screamed a woman's voice over and over again from behind the pikemen. A woman in light armour was riding directly towards Robert. Now her call was picked up by all on the field of battle. Enemies were backing slowly away from each other out of the killing range of each others weapons, and then searching for the source of the call.
"Mother,” yelled Robert, "get clear of here. You could be killed by a mistaken arrow."
"Hah, despite the armour on my breast, I still wear a skirt.” Matilda yelled back, "These bowmen are professionals. I trust them not to target a skirt."
"Move, damn you, move, you fucking poor excuse for a plough horse,” cursed Anso under his breath to Roberts war horse. He could not see Matilda, but he knew that she was coming from Robert had been saying. The sounds of steel and battle had stopped. Raynar's five bowmen were backing towards him, not knowing what to do next. Matilda's small horse came into view and stopped beside Robert's.
"Robert, get down and help me from this saddle,” scolded Matilda, "your father is gravely injured. Call out for peace and terms. You have won anything that you ask for."
Robert, to his credit, did not move. He stayed mounted and stared about him at the dead and wounded and at the horses writhing on the ground and making horrific noises. It was one of his knights that helped the diminutive woman down from her saddle and steadied her on the rough ground.
Both horses were now in Raynar's way. "Kill him, Robert,” Anso yelled. "Finish him and you are both Duke of Normandy and King of the English.” Robert sat absolutely still and watched as Matilda instructed his own knights to help William to ground and to make him comfortable.
Anso looked about him to get his bearings. There was a nearly dead pike man inches behind him trying to reach for his pole axe. Raynar pulled the pole axe out of his reach. The shaft was slick with fresh blood. A lot of fresh blood. He hefted it and stood and walked forward with it, and pushed passed Matilda's horse and then pushed passed Robert's.
He swung the axe head down aimed at the throat of the wounded king now lying down on the ground. It was suddenly yanked from his hands. He was physically pushed backwards by a horse stepping sideways. He looked up and saw a man holding the pole axe out of reach. Roberts face glaring down at him and said "He is my prisoner. Back away."
Anso turned about to find any other weapon but instead found himself looking down at a helmeted head not as high as his chest. The face of Matilda looked up at him and gave him a stare that was both angry and curious. He backed away back to his bow and picked it up.
One of Anso's bowmen came close and whispered. "Your arrow is suck
ing the life from the man. You can help him. You can heal him. The queen will reward you handsomely."
"No, we are finished here.” Anso whispered back, "this is how the Normans finish battles. Everyone stops fighting and then they discuss a finish that profits all of the nobles the best."
"But you can heal him. I have seen you do it."
"Let him die a slow death from the pig shit. The world will be a better place without him,” and with those words he signaled to his men to follow him back to the castle. Meanwhile knights and their men were streaming out of the castle cheering their hero Robert.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 29 - Betrayed by Robert in Gerberoi in January 1079
Anso lay on his bunk, exhausted but not sleeping. The battle surge throbbing through his heart would not allow sleep. How many times had he tried and failed to kill the Conqueror. The man must be protected by the gods. Was there truth then, in what the nobles believed about bloodlines? Were kings actually descended from the gods? Were they protected by the gods, or by the fates commanded by the gods?
His mind sighed. No, even if that were true, it would not be true of William. William was not a king by birth blood. He was a conqueror, a bastard, and a usurper.
He could tell by the constant grunts and the sound of men changing positions that none of the bowmen were sleeping. They all had the battle surge in them. They all needed a good laugh to release it, or a good fuck.
The healer in him wondered how William was doing. "No, No, No,” he cried out and then realized he had cried out aloud, and apologized to the men around. "Nightmare,” he said to them, "three women are too many at one time."
