by Griff Hosker
We were interrupted by the sound of hooves along the trail. The bushes and spindly trees not only masked us from the enemy they restricted our view. However, we could hear them. The rain might hurt my archers when the battle commenced but it also aided us by making it harder for the enemy to see us. I turned and saw my archers string their bows. They then held the weapons beneath their cloaks. The men who would be fighting us would be relatively ill equipped. My men had cloaks which protected and hid them. I drew my sword and picked up my shield.
The Scots had scouts out. They obviously knew the area. When the scouts reached the wrecked bridge, they shouted to the knight. We could understand them. “They have wrecked the bridge!”
I heard a Norman voice, “Can we cross?”
“Yes lord, it is no more than a small burn.”
“Burn?”
“A stream.”
“Then get after them. They cannot be far ahead.”
Roger of Bath and John of Chester were at the wrecked bridge. As the three scouts tried to jump the stream arrows plucked them from the bare backs of the ponies. Their dying shouts and cries warned the knight. One of the ponies impaled itself on a spear and its legs thrashed and kicked as it died.
I heard the Norman voice, “Ambush! They are at the bridge. Spread out and get them!”
I knew that the knight and his sergeant would hold back. They were too valuable to risk themselves. Better that the wild men on the ponies try to get at us. Although the ponies were small they were stocky and broad. They clattered and crashed through the undergrowth. As Aelric and his archers saw them they sent arrows towards them. Men and beasts fell and the Norman shouted, “Dismount! Fight on foot and use cover.”
Of course, they would now realise that there were more than five of us. Perhaps the dead at the camp would have told them that too. The arrows told them we had archers but the unknown was an ally.
Now that they knew where we were they were more cautious. Riding a bare backed pony meant that they would not use their shields while they were riding. Now they swung the small round shields before them. My archers had a smaller target. The rain was coming down heavier and I knew that my archers’ bow strings would not be as taut. I peered through the misty rain. The slits on my helmet restricted my view and I could discern nothing. I rammed my sword in the ground and took off my helmet. It was though the mist parted. I could see more. I had no sooner laid down my helmet and retrieved my sword when two Scots rose from the stream. One had a curved sword and the other a war hammer. Crudely made it could deliver a bone breaking blow.
The spear before me prevented a direct attack and the two of them separated as they came towards me. All down the line I heard the clash of metal on metal. Arrows still flew. One almost hit me as it thudded into the shield of one of the Scots coming for me. I had a decision to make. Delay helped the Scots. I turned to the one with the war hammer. If he got close he could hurt me. As he scrambled up the bank I rammed the sword, tip first, into his face. He had no helmet. His shield came belatedly up and he merely directed the sword into his left eye. He fell back screaming. He was not dead but he was badly hurt. I felt a blow on my chausses as the one with the sword blindly tried to help his partner. I brought my shield down and pinned his sword to the ground with its tip. I swung my sword overhand. It caught on some of the spindly elder. They slowed the blow as it broke them but it still had enough power to strike down and hit him on the top of his skull. He fell into the burn. The blinded man was trying to get back up the other side. An arrow in his back ended his attempt.
I had been successful but, as I looked around I saw that some of my men had not been so lucky. Padraig and Samuel were fighting to my left. Two of my men at arms lay on the ground and there were four Scots who were trying to get at them. Even as I ran an arrow hit one of the Scots. Hearing me crash through towards them through the undergrowth one turned. He lunged at me with a blade tied to a pole. I flicked it aside and swung my sword in a wide arc. It bit into his neck. I did not stop but bundled into the back of another. My weight and my shield knocked him to the ground. I pulled back my sword and skewered his neck. Samuel and Padraig ended the life of two more Scots as the last was hit by an arrow.
I looked down and saw that Harry Lightfoot and Peter Strongarm had both been wounded. They lived for they tried to rise. Turning to the squires I said, “You two, take the wounded to the horses. See to their wounds.”
“But what of you grandfather?”
Padraig snapped, “Do as you are commanded!” They dragged and pulled the two men to safety.
I heard the sound of hooves and, looking up, saw two of the Templar sergeants riding towards me. They rode palfreys. Even as I looked arrows headed towards them but they had big shields and they knew their business. They took the arrows on their shields. They leapt the burn. The spindly hawthorn before me meant that they had to go to the left and right of me. Experience took over. I instinctively turned to face the one whose lance was closest to me. As I turned I lifted my shield. The lance he held was punched towards me and I braced my left side. At the same time, I lunged upwards with my sword. It slid over the sergeant’s cantle and his horse’s speed drove his body into it. The lance and his horse threw me to the ground but my blade ripped through his mail, gambeson and into his middle.
I lay on my back and looked up as the second sergeant turned and rode his horse towards me. I was helpless. Just them Alf son of Morgan ran up. He had his shield across his back and he held his sword in two hands. The sergeant was so intent upon striking me that he never saw the blow which hacked off his leg at the thigh. As his body tumbled off to the side his dying hand gripped the reins and his horse tumbled into the burn. As it did so it fell into two Scots who were attempting to take advantage of the Templars’ attack.
Alf put an arm out to help me to my feet, “Are you hurt, lord?”
“No, Alf son of Morgan and I owe you a life.”
My archers had realised that their bows were ineffective and had laid them down. They now threw themselves at the Scots with their swords. It was too much and the Scots broke off and fled. We had won.
“Get our wounded to the horses. Roger of Bath see how many we slew. Aelric take two men and make sure that they have gone.”
I turned and saw that my son lived but we had lost men. Tom the Weaver’s son lay dead. Alan of Dale was also dead. Others were wounded. As William took off his helmet I said, “Your squire earned his spurs this day. I was dead but for him.”
William nodded, “And Samuel acquitted himself well this day. He showed that he is ready. You shall be knighted Alf son of Morgan.”
I pointed to the sergeant I had slain, “William search him. See if you can find clues as to the name of the Templar knight.” I stepped into the burn and dragged the body of the sergeant from the water. His horse stood not far away. “Alf, get the two horses. They may have clues in their saddlebags.” The rain was easing slightly. The blood was being washed from my mail.
Geoffrey FitzMaurice came over as I was examining the sergeant. He had French coins and his Templar seal but nothing which identified him. Geoffrey said, “I know him, lord.”
“You do? Did he serve de Gisors or de Clairvaux?”
“No lord. His knight was Geoffrey of Antioch and he died of poisoned blood in Genoa.”
William came over. He had the coins and seal from the other sergeant. “That explains much, father. Most sergeants serve but one knight yet we have heard of three knights and each has three sergeants. I had worried that more knights were abroad in our land but this evidence is reassuring. There are two Templars in the land and they now have four sergeants.”
“And that is reassuring?”
He smiled, “It is when I had feared nine Templar knights. They may be unscrupulous and treacherous but a Templar is a knight without fear and a mighty warrior. Two we might be able to handle.”
I looked up as Aelric returned, “Well?”
“They are fled. We caught up with
three who were wounded. In return for a warrior’s death they told us the name of the knight. It is Gilles de Clairvaux.”
Roger of Bath returned, “We have counted forty bodies. More than half had arrows in them. Your archers did well Aelric.”
“Not well enough for some escaped. We will do better next time.”
“And our losses?”
“Two dead, lord and eight with wounds.”
“The let us bury our dead and heal the wounded. We have far to go this day. I would spend the night at the New Castle.”
The wounded were sent back to the horses with our squires. We buried our two men at arms by the burn. The wet ground made it easy. It was sad that this was so far away from their home but they were warriors. We all knew that death could come at any time and so long as our comrades remembered us then it mattered not where we lay.
Harry Lightfoot and Peter Strong Arm were the most seriously wounded. The others had cuts which could be stitched and healed. My two men at arms had suffered blows to the head. Their helmets and arming caps had taken most of the force but both were still a little groggy and Peter complained that he was having difficulty seeing. We assigned two men at arms to watch over them. We had spare horses and we made better time as we headed south past Bellingham. I sent Padraig ahead to warn the monks at Hexham that we would be arriving. The castle had not been rebuilt but the monastery still remained. Padraig told them we had wounded men.
The abbot had known Sir Hugh Manningham and was an old friend. He had been but a monk then. He took in our seven wounded men. Aelric left a spare horse and two archers to escort them south when they were healed. Our diminished numbers made the New Castle just after dark. The Sheriff, William de Vesci, was surprised to see us. While our men took care of the horses and our squires took our war gear to our rooms the Sheriff asked us what we had been about.
William de Vesci had been appointed Sheriff by Henry after we had retaken the castle from the Scots. He was a reliable knight. He had not known that I was back in England. The tale took some telling. He had not even received news of the death of the Empress or the victory in Blois. When we told him of the Templars he blanched.
“I gave accommodation to two knights and their sergeants.”
“When was this?”
“Some two months since.”
“There was not a Norman with them was there? Sir Richard de Vernon is a traitor.”
He shook his head, “Just the Templars. And you say they are come here to do harm?” I nodded. “Then that explains much. After they had left three of my knights took ill. Two died and one is recovering still. We blamed the cook and I had him sent hence. I fear now that it was poison.”
“We are in a state of war, Sheriff. This de Vernon, the Templars and William, brother of Malcolm, are all involved in a plot to recapture Northumbria and to bring insurrection to England.”
“Then I will place Northumbria on a war footing. Winter is coming and that is the time of the wolves. The Scots will not risk an attack during the winter.”
“You are right and the King of Scotland lives still. So long as he is alive then we have hope.”
William de Vesci shook his head and gave a wry smile, “I never thought that I would pray for a Scottish King’s life.”
“Nor did I. We leave on the morrow for Durham. I would have words with Hugh de Puiset.”
“I confess that he is less than a friendly neighbour. Why does King Henry not replace him?”
“That is easier said than done. He has the backing of the Pope and until the Thomas Becket situation is remedied then the King’s hands are tied.”
The night in the castle gave both my men and our horses respite. Good food, ale and a dry bed made all the difference. After warning the garrison that we had men who would be traveling south from Hexham, we left. Once we crossed the Tyne we were in Durham and in the Palatinate. We rode as though in enemy land. It would take a foolish and reckless knight to take on the Warlord and his son but I knew that some men might risk that. We reached Durham without incident.
Our banners told the Bishop of our identity and he dared not risk my ire by delaying us. We were admitted. Leaving our men and squires to gather information we sought audience with the Bishop. I noticed that he had more armed guards than in times past. I saw that he had a mailed man standing behind him. He was a bodyguard. He had the tanned face of a man who has spent time in hot and sunny climes. I glanced at his feet as we were seated and saw that he had no spurs. The man was not a knight. I saw William scrutinising him.
“This is an unexpected visit Earl.”
I nodded. “I have come to warn you of treachery in the kingdom.” Hugh de Puiset was a master of deception. He had more faces than Janus. Years of combat, however had taught me that a man can never hide what is in his eyes. As I said treachery I saw fear in his eyes. He thought I knew something.
“That is serious. Does the King know?”
“It was he who sent me. Templars are being used as agents of the French King and there is a traitor who must be apprehended. Sir Richard de Vernon has had his lands stripped. We believe he is hiding in Scotland where he has taken refuge with the brother of the King of Scotland’s brother, William.”
The lie was in his eyes when he said, “I have not seen Templars nor this traitor but I thank you for the warning. We must keep this land safe.”
I went on the offensive, “And yet you are not doing so.” His head jerked forward and I held up my hand, “My son has told me how the Scots came through your land last winter to ravage our land. When we travelled north we spoke with villages whose lords of the manor are neglectful of their duties. You are Prince Bishop, my lord, you have a duty to protect those who live in this land.”
“It is a hard land and we are surrounded by enemies. This land is not wealthy like some of the estates and manors further south. If I paid less in tax….”
William spoke for the first time, “Not so, Bishop. The north and east are protected by William de Vesci and the south and east by me. There is only the west and Sir Hugh of Gainford stops invasion from the west at his castle. All your knights and lords have to do is watch the land to the west of the New Castle. The Romans did so with far fewer men.”
“It is costly.”
“And you have many taxes to pay for it. You seem more obsessed with money than either the safety of your people or men’s souls.” I smiled and changed my tack. “Did you hear that the Archbishop of Canterbury has fled to France?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “I had heard something of that.”
“King Henry is cleansing the church.”
“Are you threatening me?”
I laughed, “If I had threatened you then you would know. I merely warn you that any other signs of laxity will result in me taking action! And, as you know, Bishop, I keep my word.”
I had him worried. He looked down at his hands and, once he had regained his composure he put on his masked smile, “I assure you, my lord that I will not rest until my lands are secure.”
“Good.” I rose.
William did so and then pointed at the man at arms behind the Bishop. “Do I not know you?”
The man looked uncomfortable and then shook his head, “I doubt it my lord. I am a mere sergeant at arms.”
William stared at him and then suddenly started, “You were with Guillame de Waller. I saw you in the Holy Land. Then you served a villain and a killer. You were one of the men who escaped justice.”
“I am Roger de Tancraville. You are mistaken lord. I served in Sicily with the de Hauteville family. I am only recently returned to England.”
The Bishop frowned, “What difference does it make?”
William stared at the Bishop, “The difference, Bishop, is that de Waller was a knight without honour as were his men. He is the same sort of knight as de Vernon. Do you swear, Bishop, that this man’s story is true?”
He said, far too quickly and without conviction. “Of course, and I object
to your tone, Earl! I am Prince Bishop and deserve respect!”
“A man earns respect, Bishop, and I have none for you. If I discover that this man is lying to me then it will go ill, for both of you.”
We both allowed a heavy and uncomfortable silence to descend. Both men had recoiled a little for William’s eyes burned fiercely. We turned and left. As we walked to our horses I said, “This de Waller is he the same…”
“Aye, Rebekah still has nightmares. They are both lying, father.”
“I know and the Bishop was lying about the Templars and de Vernon. I can do little about the Bishop despite what I said. The King will have to remedy that situation. The sooner we rid the land of de Vernon and the Templars the better.” I suddenly stopped, “The man said he was a sergeant at arms.”
William said, “Of course! When he left de Waller, he must have joined the Templars. This web gets more complicated, does it not?”
“It could be a Gordian knot, I care not. This is my land and I will cleanse it of all enemies, foreign and domestic!”
Chapter 13
The death of Dick and my other men took away any sense of joy at our return. Wulfric especially was stricken with sadness. He took to drinking even more. Poor Harold could hardly be consoled. When they had lived in Sherwood, Dick had been as a father to Harold. He had named his eldest Richard in his honour. I had my mason, William, carve a stone for the church yard. It was not a grave. It was a marker and a place where we could remember.
Every archer in the valley came the day that we placed the stone on the ground. Never had there been such a gathering. When it was over they all went to the river and each archer sent an arrow into the sky to fall into the river as a mark of their respect.
The sadness was replaced by joy with the preparations for the ceremony of knighthood. Alf would become Sir Morgan of Stockton. He chose the title himself in honour of his father. Ralph of Bowness was especially touched. We still called him Alf much as we had called Sir Richard. Dick. Samuel and Padraig took particular interest in the ceremony. It would be some time before either of them would be knighted but the presence of James reminded them that their turn would come too.
