Henry II (The Anarchy Book 13)

by Griff Hosker

  Cheers sounded from the stands. It had been swift and it had been clinical. Ralph took my reins as I dismounted, “Masterful, my lord, masterful.” The squire of the defeated knight came over and threw a purse to Ralph. My squire shrugged, “I had to have a wager, lord. It was a sure thing!”

  I laughed and took off my helmet. After untying the ventail I felt the cool air on my face. The secret was to remain as calm as possible. I took my hands from my mailed mittens and flexed my fingers. My next fight would be harder. The two men who fought next would now provide my final opponent. Hermund was fighting Raymond of Mortain. I knew him to be a good warrior and he, like me, had experience. How would he fare?

  Both men wore conventional mail, and armour. Their shields had no spikes on them. As the herald dropped the standard they galloped towards each other. Neither went as fast as the knight who had fought me. They both punched at the same time and their lances shattered on the other’s shield. They returned to their squires for a second lance. When they approached for a second bout I saw that Hermund of Alsace was going to use my trick of standing in his stirrups. I saw him pull back his arm and then stand just as Raymond of Mortain thrust. The result was that the Norman’s lance slid alongside the shield of the Alsatian.

  Hermund then stood and punched down and hard. His lance smashed into the side of the Norman. Raymond of Mortain was a skilful rider but I do not know how he retained his seat. The cantle was there to hold a rider firmly but a sideways blow almost always resulted in a fall.

  Hermund then showed his skill in the tourney. He threw away his lance. His had scored a hit and he could now use hand weapons. He drew his sword and wheeled around the rear of the Norman’s horse. Raymond had regained his seat and control of his horse but he had not regained his composure. The blow, when it came, struck him on the right shoulder and was so powerful that the lance fell from Raymond’s hand. Hermund then punched with his shield into the right shoulder of the Norman. This time he tumbled from the saddle. It was over. I would be facing Hermund of Alsace.

  I gave a thin smile to Ralph. “I would bet on him for the next bout.”

  “Don’t you worry, my lord, he might be tricky but you can beat him. Come on, my lord, let’s get you ready.”

  As I donned my mittens and Ralph tied my ventail I saw that Hermund of Alsace changed horses and was then handed a new lance by his squire. I was just placing my helmet on when Ralph said, “My lord, he is pouring something on the end of the lance. Why?”

  I had heard of knights doing so in battle. Sometimes it was just water to enable their lance to slide between links. Others put vinegar there. It made a wound seem more painful than it really was. Then there were the third kind. They would tip their lances with poison. I feared that this Alsatian would use the latter. It also meant that the lance he used might not be blunted. When I saw his squire strap on a new sword then my fears were confirmed. He had edged weapons and his lance was tipped with poison. Perhaps the sword was too. He intended to kill me.

  As I mounted Albert I said, “That is poison on his lance.”

  “The bastard!”

  I could do nothing about it. I would have to defeat him and avoid contact with the lance. I went to my end of the field. Glancing up at the stand I saw Henry huddled close to Queen Eleanor. If I fell, then I knew the assassins would move in and finish off Henry too. I was an obstacle. I had to be removed.

  As the standard fell I urged Albert forward. I had to break his lance and then strike a blow with my weapon. That was not easy. However, I knew that he would try to strike flesh. He would seek to avoid my lance. He would not stand in his stirrups. He would go for the space between my ventail and helmet. He would go for my head. Knowing that made what I intended slightly easier. I held my spear slightly behind me and I rested it, easily, on the cantle of my horse. Hermund of Alsace was feigning to stand. He wanted me to think he would try the same move as almost unhorsed Raymond of Mortain. Athelstan, my old mentor, had often said that I had the fastest hands in Christendom. I now put them to good use. I dropped my reins. We were now closing quickly with each other. I knew that Albert would respond to my knees. I turned him, with my knees to my left and I punched up with my shield and forward with my lance. His lance shattered as my shield came up. Splinters of his deadly lance hit the top of my helmet. I had come within a hand span of death. My own lance struck home. My surprise thrust had hit his side and he reeled, much as Raymond of Mortain had done.

  I had won the first bout and I threw away my lance. I did not wish to risk a second poisoned weapon. I drew the sword and, grabbing the reins, wheeled Albert around. Hermund had fast hands too and I saw the blade slip from his scabbard. It glistened with liquid; it was deadly too. The eager eyes which glared at me told me that it, too, was poisoned and edged. I had to finish this quickly. I had hurt him with my lance. The blow had been hard and he had not softened it with his shield. I swung my sword in an arc at his weakened left side. I aimed low down. His shield came down to block the blow but the force behind the strike rammed his shield against his already injured ribs.

  He had quick reactions and even as I struck he stood in his saddle to swing at my head. He was going for bare flesh! My shield came up to block the blow but it was a powerful one which made my arm shiver. I wheeled Albert away and took him in a large circle. I saw that the leather on my shield had been cut. This was no blunted sword. I heard a groan from the stands. It would have looked as though I was running away. I was not. I was going to use Albert as a weapon. Hermund brought his horse around. He galloped after me. He would strike at my back. It was what I wanted him to try.

  “Albert, do not let me down now. You are a warhorse! Show me what you can do!” I whipped his head around and galloped directly back at Hermund. My horse pirouetted. The Alsatian held his sword with its tip over his horse’s head. He intended to use the sharpened blade to stab me. I pulled back on Albert’s reins and stood in the saddle. As I had practised he reared and brought his hooves down on to the head of the Alsatian’s horse. I had to give Hermund credit. He reacted quicker than any man I had ever seen. Even as his horse stumbled he had kicked his feet from the stirrups and, as it began to fall, threw his left leg over the cantle. His feet hit the ground hard and he almost fell but he managed to keep his feet by running. Had he not kept his feet then the contest would have been over.

  I reined Albert in and dismounted. “You are a mighty horse, Albert. I am indebted to you.”

  I walked over to Hermund who had finally regained his composure. He began to stride towards me. I had to avoid his sword at all costs. As he came closer I saw that he favoured his right leg. His left had been hurt in the fall. As his ribs on his left side were also weakened that would be the side I would attack. He would go for my head. His intentions were announced when he brought his sword sideways, edge on, towards my head. Rather than use my shield I did the unexpected. I ducked and punched with my shield at his hand. He wore mailed mittens too but my blow was a hard one. As he stepped back, on to his weaker leg I swung my sword sideways at his ribs. His shield blocked the blow but it forced him to twist. I could only see his eyes but I saw a spasm of pain flash in them as his knee was hurt.

  His fast hands brought his sword up again. He could hardly move and he had to finish this quickly. My hands were as quick and I blocked his sword with my own. The two hilts locked. He began to push his hand towards me. “Now you will die! The poison on this blade is deadly. If it breaks flesh, then you will die quickly. That is my gift to you; a quick death!” He announced his intentions as he thought it would frighten me and make me make mistakes. I already knew.

  He was a strong young man and he began to force my hand back towards my face. I saw the glistening droplets of deadly poison which were on the sword. Even if they dried they could still kill. It came ever closer to my face. If I stepped back then, with his quick hands, he would thrust it into my eye. I used my only advantage; he had a weak knee. I rammed my right knee into his weakened left one.
It gave way and he fell backwards. Our hilts were locked and I fell with him. Even as I fell I knew that I had to avoid the edge of his sword. I turned my head as we crashed to the ground. My sword was on top of his and my weight drove the sharpened sword across his ventail and through the mail links. It bit into his flesh. I saw his eyes widen in horror. I rolled from him and struggled to my feet.

  From the stands, I heard a cheer. I looked down at him. His ventail was no longer covering his mouth. Blood flowed freely and from his mouth there were white bubbles. “Had you fought with honour then you might have lived. You might even have won. You now pay the price for a black heart. Go to God!”

  Ralph ran over to me. I saw Hermund’s squire mount the war horse he had used against Raymond of Mortain and gallop away. The cheers in the stands rolled away to nothing as they realised that the Alsatian was not moving. The herald and his men rushed over to me. Ralph reached me first. He stared down at the dead knight. “That could have been you, my lord.”

  “I know.” I made the sign of the cross. “It seems I am not yet ready to meet my maker.” I took off my helmet and untied my ventail.

  The herald arrived. “How did this happen?” He reached down to retrieve the sword.

  “Do not touch the blade! As you can see it is edged and it has poison upon it.”

  The herald looked at me. Ralph said, “It is true, lord, I saw the knight’s squire pour it on before the combat.”

  The herald turned and was just in time to see the squire gallop away. “The Count must know of this.” He turned to his men. “Guard the body and let no one touch the dead man’s weapons.”

  I handed my sword to Ralph. “Wash the blade and do not touch it!

  The three of us walked over to the stands. Expectation was written all over their faces. The dead knight in the middle of the field was a mystery. It was not my place to speak. The lord who was the herald was in command. He addressed the Count although his eyes did pick out Siegfried of Trier. “My lord, Hermund of Alsace used an edged weapon tipped with poison. He died from his own blade. His squire was party to this and he has fled.”

  The Count turned on Siegfried, “And what is your part in all of this? He was your man!”

  The knight kept his composure, “He was one of my household knights but I knew nothing of his plan. I am a man of honour and I would have stopped him.”

  “Then would you swear on a bible that you had no knowledge of this?”

  Siegfried’s eyes flashed with anger but he kept his voice calm as he answered me, “My word is my bond. That is enough.” He rose. “And now I must go. The loss of my knight has left a sour taste in my mouth. I will take his body for burial.”

  Duke Henry snapped, “Then take him from Normandy! I will have no murderers buried in the churches of my realm. You are no longer welcome in Normandy. You and your men have violated the rules of the tournament. If you ever enter my land again then you will be taken and executed. That is my command.”

  The knight nodded, “And that is how it should be for the next time I come, Duke Henry, it will be to take your crown.”

  Henry’s household knights had gathered behind me and they began to clamour. Henry held up his hand, “I will not break the peace of this day. Go! You have until the sun sets to quit my land.”

  The knights with the unicorn on their surcoats left the stand. Henry had shown his power in his voice. His knights had shown their anger. They would leave. As they left I glanced towards Charles of Champagne. He had a smile upon his face. I wondered how much involvement he had had in all of this.

  He saw me looking at him and he stood, “And we will take our leave too, my lord. It has been most entertaining and instructive but I fear I have pressing business in my own lands.”

  Henry gave a slight bow, “I thank you for your attendance, Count. If you come in peace, then you will always be welcome in Normandy.”

  The Count did not reply. We all knew where we stood. War was coming.

  Chapter 7

  The shock of the dishonourable deed left a sour taste in the mouths of everyone. What had been intended as a celebration had gone awry. The Count felt particularly remorseful as he had come up with the idea of the tournament as a way to judge his enemies.

  “And it nearly got you killed, Warlord!”

  “No, Count; your plan succeeded. We now know that our enemies will stoop to any act to defeat us. That is worth knowing, is it not? I am alive and one dangerous enemy is dead. We have hurt them and we can now watch for them. We must prepare for war.”

  “I suppose you are right. And I will return to Angers.”

  Henry said, “We will escort you. Now is not the time to have the Count of Anjou wandering through his land when assassins are abroad.”

  Before we could depart the Queen of France took her leave and we said goodbye. Of all the events which had occurred at the coronation, this was the most unexpected and joyous. I knew not how it would end but it was obvious to me that Eleanor and Henry had made some sort of tryst. They behaved formally; especially in front of the courtiers and guards but I recognised the looks and glances. I understood the nuances of their words. I had used similar words and gestures with Henry’s mother.

  Henry and his knights said that they would escort the Queen to the borders with France. After they had left us we prepared to take as many knights and men at arms as we could for the journey to Angers. Henry was a clever young man. He also knew that this was a good way of announcing his new title to both his Normans and his father’s Angevins. The large number of knights would show his power. That was as important as the title. France and the other enemies would see Normandy as weak with such a young Duke. Henry would have to show them differently. I had much to do. I had my men to organize and I had letters to write to England. When next my ship traded, Captain William would take the letters to my knights. It was late in the afternoon when I had finished them.

  I went to the Count’s room for a servant had found me to tell me that he wished to speak with me. I heard raised voices as I approached. The sentry on the door opened it for me. “The Count said to admit you immediately.”

  When I went in I saw that the Count and his son, Geoffrey, were the only ones in the room. Their faces were red, effused and angry. They had been arguing.

  Geoffrey, Count of Nantes, flung a hand in my direction, “And what right does he have to just barge in here! He is not family!”

  Geoffrey was about to turn seventeen and he was almost as big as Henry who was over a year older. In that moment, however, I would happily have pulled him over my knee and spanked him for he sounded like a petulant child.

  The Count calmed himself and said, tersely, “The Earl is here because I invited him. I need his advice.”

  “But he is just the son of a Saxon warrior! He has no noble blood in his veins! Why do you need to speak to him? I can give you advice. I am the son of the Empress!”

  The Count laughed, “You? You behave like a child.”

  “Then treat me as an equal and I will behave like one. Give me Anjou! You could have kept Normandy! You had no need to give it to my brother. He will be King of England!”

  The Count turned to me, “Alfraed, what would you have me do with this son? You managed to make Henry into a fine and noble leader. Would you do the same for Geoffrey?”

  Before I could speak young Geoffrey jumped to his feet, “I want nothing to do with this bandit! He is not noble! I do not need to learn anything that this Englishman can teach me! If you will not give me Anjou, then give me Poitou.”

  The Count said, slowly, “I had planned on doing just that but I can see that you are not ready. You will need to prove to me that you are a man!”

  The younger son of the Duke of Normandy narrowed his eyes. “You mean be as my brother and have a dalliance with a married woman; a queen no less.”

  “You go too far!”

  He went to the door and said, “We will see just how far I can go then shall we?” he slammed it behin
d him.

  After he had gone the Count shook his head, “I know not what to do with him.”

  “It is difficult. I can offer you no answers. I had no brothers and William was my only son. You have three.”

  “I meant what I said, Earl. You have made my son a man. He will be a good king and he will rule with an iron hand. I like to think that I had a hand in that but I am no fool. Your skills are evident in every fibre of his being. I thank you. When you first took me under your wing I did not know the change you would bring. When I am gone, I know that you will watch over my son so long as you draw breath. It is a pity you could not have taken all three sons.”

  Henry showed his newfound maturity when he returned. “Father, leave Geoffrey in command of the castle while we take you home. He cannot hurt it and it will give him a taste of power. Perhaps he will realise that having power is not all that he believes it to be.”

  Surprisingly enough Geoffrey was quite amenable to the idea. Little did we know the ramifications of this but as I had told others when one looked back one had perfect vision. Perhaps it was meant to be. Before we left Henry closeted himself in his chamber with a scribe. He had letters penned. I was curious for Henry had never enjoyed the writing of letters or writing of any kind.

  “Letters, lord?”

  He smiled, “I have a position to uphold now, Earl. You should know that. I have written to those rulers who did not send representatives to my coronation and, of course, one to the Pope. We need his blessing.”