by Griff Hosker
The spy in Stockton had betrayed us. I nodded, “How many?”
“I cannot tell but they are mounted; my horse told me.”
I stood and said, loudly, “Then as it your horse which is lame, ride at the rear and do not hold us back.” I nodded. Geoffrey would tell all the others as he passed. I feigned drinking from my ale skin as I peered ahead. The ground fell away. The trail twisted and there were trees and bushes a hundred paces ahead. I waited until Geoffrey was at the rear and then I shouted, “Roger of Ely, you are on point!”
I mounted and as Roger came from the rear of the line he said, quietly, “I am ready, lord.”
I said, equally quietly, “Then be ready to turn to your left. I will turn to the right. Padraig, you follow me and, Arne Arneson, you follow Roger.” I leaned forward to pat Skuld and I slipped my left arm through the long strap on my shield. Although it still appeared to hang loose it could be upon my arm in a moment. Skuld neighed and raised her head as we neared the trees. She confirmed Geoffrey’s suspicions.
Roger was just ten paces ahead of me and as he neared the first of the trees I saw a movement. It could have been an animal save that there were neither birds in the air nor animals on the ground. The ambushers had frightened them away. Suddenly Roger pulled up his shield and dug his heels into his horse’s flanks. His sword came out and he plunged to the left. I jerked Skuld’s head to the right and, drawing my sword as I pulled up the shield headed to the right.
At first I saw nothing and then I saw a flash of brown. This was winter and the copse was made up of silver birch.. I headed for it and it manifested itself into a Scot with a bow. He had not shown wisdom in his position for the thin trees and branches before us would hinder an arrow. I jinked left and then right. His arrow flew prematurely and harmlessly to my left. On him in a heartbeat I brought my sword across his shoulder. It bit through the leather and into his collar bone. As he tumbled to the ground I whirled left to seek other enemies.
The fact that the ambush had been sprung worked against our enemies. They had been facing the trail and we were not on the trail. We rode horses which could move quickly through the bushes and skeletal trees. They had to turn to bring their bows and their spears to bear and my men had dead comrades to avenge. I reared Skuld to make the Scot, who appeared before me, raise his shield to defend himself. Skuld’s hooves crashed down cracking the shield and breaking his arm. I left him to run away for I saw a figure on a horse. The white cloak told me that it was a Templar. I dug my heels into Skuld and took off after him. He whirled his horse to flee.
Skuld was the best horse I had had since Scout. She had good instincts and seemed to pick the path of least resistance instinctively. The Templar’s horse, in contrast, was either badly ridden or the rider did not know the beast well enough for he seemed to leave the trail and crash through spindly, leafless branches. It slowed him and I began to inexorably rein him in. As I closed with him I saw that he was a sergeant at arms. It was not the knight. I sought one of the two knights I suspected of being in Scotland. The sergeant would have to do.
Suddenly the trees ended and the land fell away. The covering of snow hid the trail. As the Templar’s horse opened its legs it hit an icy patch. The slope was north facing and the snow frozen. The horse slipped and slid. It ceased to go in a straight line and I slowed down Skuld to avoid a similar fate. The sergeant knew he could not outrun me and he showed that he had skill by turning the horse to face me. He drew his sword. He urged his horse up the slope. I walked Skuld down it. Skuld moved steadily. The Templar’s horse was trying but its hooves slid on the slick and slippery frozen snow.
The Templar stood in his stirrups and brought down his sword to hit my head. Neither of us wore a helmet and a blow to an arming cap could be fatal. I brought my sword up to block it. Sparks flew as our blades rang together. I swung the top of my shield over Skuld’s head to hit the sergeant in the midriff. He was standing and not expecting the blow. I saw him winded. I took advantage and, as he sat in his saddle, lunged at his side. My sword ground through his mail and his gambeson and came away bloody. He was wounded.
“Yield, Templar!”
He shook his head, “And become a prisoner? Never! You will have to kill me, Warlord, for so long as I breathe I will fight you. Your son killed my master and I swore vengeance upon him. Your death will hurt him.”
This was one of de Waller’s men. It was another who had escaped and joined the Templars. He whipped his horse’s head around in an attempt to make it bite Skuld. Skuld was too clever for that. She pulled her head away and as the Templar’s horse’s head dropped I swung my sword backhand. The Templar just managed to bring his shield up but his horse, already unbalanced began to slide down the slope which had now become even slicker. I dug my heels in Skuld and she turned to push the Templar and his horse down the slope. It was my opportunity to stand in the saddle for I was above the sergeant and he was struggling to control his horse. I brought my sword down towards his sword arm. If he could not fight then I had a chance to secure a prisoner. Fate intervened. His horse slipped and slid even as I brought down my weapon. Instead of hitting his right arm it bit into his shoulder and he fell from his horse.
I reined in Skuld and, hanging my shield from my cantle, dismounted. The sergeant lay on the snow-covered ground. Already it was darkening with his blood. His sword had fallen away. I rammed my sword in the ground and knelt. “Where are your masters? Where are the two knights?”
He laughed and blood came from his mouth, “I will not betray the order.”
I shook my head, “You are not a monk! You are a killer! Tell me and your body shall be buried. If you do not then I will leave it for the wolves and the carrion.”
His eyes told me that he wished a burial but his words did not, “I am shriven. I have confessed and I go to my God…” His eyes glazed over and he died.
As I stood Padraig and my men galloped up, “They are dead, lord. Eight or so escaped but when the Templar fled the heart went from them.”
I stood and looked at my men. One or two nursed wounds. I saw that Padraig had a long cut down his cheek but they were all alive. I stared around, “The Templar knights are close by. They are in England.”
“How do you know, lord?”
“This man confessed this morning.” I peered to the west. Could it be that the very place I has chosen to base my men was the one where the Scots had gathered? Was the Coquet valley a danger? I would have to change my plans or, at the very least, investigate.
Chapter 14
Rebekah was most concerned when she saw Padraig’s scar. The healer at Morthpath had stitched it up but it looked angry. I know why she was upset; her son was also a squire and he might have a similar wound. From what my son had told me she came from a family of merchants and farmers. The world of warriors was new to her.
William came to me and gestured for me to join him in the cellar of the castle. I was intrigued. We used it to store food and wine. We also had two cells there which we used for prisoners. We had had knights we had taken hostage and those who would not cooperate were placed in the cells.
“We have found the spy.”
“When and who is it?”
“It was John the Carter. He is the man who brings in hay and straw for the animals. He takes away the soiled hay. He left just before you did. Edgar followed him. He went to Cowpen where he went into a farm. The man who lived there mounted a horse and rode north. Edgar followed him and he went to Durham. Edgar did not see who he met with but I would guess it was the Bishop or the bodyguard.”
“We have him here?” He nodded. “And the man at Cowpen?”
“Masood and Aiden went to his farm a day later. He is not there.”
“Then you and I will ride hence and find out who he is.” He opened the cell. Ralph was in the room and John the Carter. He had been beaten. Every bone in his right hand had been broken. I did not like torture and would not use it but I hardened myself. Dick had died and that could have
been Samuel. “Who is the man you meet in Cowpen?” The man looked up at Ralph. He was terrified of my castellan. “Speak the truth and you shall have a quick death.”
“Death?”
“You have betrayed me. You cannot hope to live. Tell me the truth and I will bring in my priest to hear your confession and then Ralph will give you that which you do not deserve, a warrior’s death.”
My son said, “The alternative is that Ralph uses his strength to extract that which we need. Can you cope with that?”
He shook his head. “He is a Norman. He came nine months since. He found out that I owed money, for I gamble and he offered to pay off the debt in return for news. He said that he wanted to know when you or your son left Stockton. He wished to now where you travelled. No one noticed me and men talk. He paid me gold each time I did so. I had to let him know before you left. That is all, I swear.”
“And you never saw others there?”
He hesitated. “Once there was a foreign knight there. He wore a white surcoat with a cross and he was tanned.” I saw him struggling for information which would please me. “He came into your town, lord. When it was market day he would visit.”
The man had cheek. “Describe him.”
From his description it was not Sir Richard de Vernon. That would have been too much to hope. I rose. I will send my priest. Make your peace with God. I take it you have no family?”
“Lord my wife left me three years ago. I used to be well off. We were happy here in Stockton and then…”
I nodded and we left. “Come William. We will ride to Cowpen. I doubt that we will see this man again.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“How long has this man been held?”
“Twenty days.”
“That is more than time enough for his contact to come to Stockton and discover that he is held prisoner. He will have fled. However, we may find clues there as to his whereabouts.”
We took our squires and six men at arms. While John of Chester questioned the others who lived in the village we search the farm. It showed no sign of any other occupant. There was one bed, one chair, one platter, one beaker. It could have been a monk’s cell! Padraig found the only clue as to the man’s identity. An old and faded surcoat had fallen behind the bed. The man must have forgotten it. It bore the livery of de Vernon. It confirmed that this was one of de Vernon’s men.
We mounted and awaited John of Chester, “Lord, the man came nine months since. He bought the farm from the farmer, William of Cowpen who had farmed here for years. The neighbours were told by the new tenant that William left. He farmed alone.”
“But no one has seen him since?”
“No lord.”
“Then he is dead. The spy would have done for him. No gold was paid for this farm. Was there any description of him?”
“They said he was less than thirty summers old. He had hair which was the colour of corn and he had a scar which ran from his left eye to his beard.”
“Then that is something, at least.” I looked at my son. “We have been lax. How can someone take over a farm close to our lands and we do not know it? It is time we checked all who live close to us. I am guessing that William of Cowpen is buried in one of his fields. We will ride back to Stockton. And from now on every stranger who enters our town is questioned.”
We rode in silence for I was annoyed with myself. I had been remiss. I had been complacent. I had thought that Stockton was safe and I had been wrong.
My son had been putting his mind to our other problem. With the spy dealt with it was a more serious problem. “So, father, what do we do about this threat in the Coquet valley? Do we ride there now and rid ourselves of these enemies?”
I shook my head, “That would merely alert the main army. I do not think that William will risk having his men in England yet. For one thing they would starve. There is no food. I think that the Templars are there with a small force. They have recognised, as did Samuel, the value of this valley. I will send Masood and Edward to find out exactly where they are. We will keep to our plan. The difference might be that we have to fight a battle before we can take control of the valley.”
“Then why do we not take the men from our conroi up there ahead of the main column? Wulfric can lead the rest of our knights. Our men represent more than a third of the force anyway. If we ride there with close to three hundred and fifty men then there is more chance of us being seen. We take just a hundred men. We have nearly seventy archers. They are masters of disguise.”
“You are right. I must be getting old for my son and my grandson come up with better plans than I.”
“No father; you just carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders. You have England, Normandy, Anjou and the rest of King Henry’s domain to worry you. Samuel and I just have this valley and the border. I will find Masood and Edward.”
When we reached the castle, I sent for them and told them what was needed of them. The two of them left at noon. This time they would not be masquerading as traders. They took two spare horses and would ride off trail. They would be hidden. Both were masters of the land. They knew how to use cover. Masood might have been born in a hot land but he had learned how to adapt to a cold one. His one advantage over my other scouts was that while they were good archers, he was the best. Even Dick had recognised that the scout had natural talent. He also had a bow which was shorter than a war bow. Made from animal horn and wood he could use it from the back of a horse. His bow and his technique were those used by the Seljuk Turks. It made Masood unique.
Father Michael was waiting for me when I dismounted, “Earl, I understand that the man whom I just confessed is to be executed.”
“He is.”
“Has he had fair trial?”
I nodded, “My son and I judged him. He betrayed the town and men died as a result of his actions. I know that you are a man of God and turn the other cheek but we have laws. He caused deaths and the punishment for that is death.”
“Do you and Sir William have clear consciences?”
“We do.”
“Then I shall pray for you and the soul of this man.”
We hanged John the Carter in my castle. We did so after dark so that Rebekah and Ruth would not see it. William spoke with the burghers in my town and told them of the treachery. They were appalled. It was while he was speaking with them that they mentioned the Norman who had been in the town. The man had been seen but none had spoken of him. As a result of my son’s words they all promised to be more vigilant and suspicious of strangers. It was not our way for my folk were fair but it would be the way we would have to be.
It was a few days after the execution that Alain of Auxerre returned with my ship. He brought news from the King. Before I read the letter, I asked my man at arms of the situation in Normandy and Anjou. “The King and his knights have been active. He was at Chateau Galliard. That is a formidable castle, lord. I cannot see how it would be taken.”
“And what did you learn of our enemies?”
“That they are growing. When we put in at ports to trade I spoke with other warriors in the inns and ale houses. The kings, dukes and princes, are all taking sides. No one is neutral. There will be war, lord. Of that I am certain.”
“Thank you, Alain.”
William and I retired to our solar to read the letters. As well as one from the King there was one from Sir Leofric. The King endorsed all of my actions. I knew that he would. He gave me permission to deal with Hugh de Puiset. That I would gladly do. He also made it quite clear what I was to do with Sir Richard de Vernon when I caught him. The King had been open and honest in the letter. That was the measure of the trust he had in Alain of Auxerre. He had known him when he had been my squire. The King was seeking to have Thomas Becket replaced. He had sent an emissary to Rome to speak with the Pope. He had also sent a message to King Louis to demand that he stop fermenting insurrection in the dukedom and the kingdom. War was coming. I was given a free hand, short of inv
ading Scotland, to deal with the problem of William.
Sir Leofric’s letter confirmed much of what the King had said but added that there were bands of armed men loose in every kingdom and county. The peaceful land I had left was now riven with strife. There might have been a time when I would have hastened back to help my King but I knew, as did my son, William, that we were teetering on the edge of disaster. The Welsh were just waiting for a sign of laxity and they would rise. The Irish were also ripe for revolt. Our actions here, on the northern border, might result in the destruction of England.
Our two scouts returned a few days later. They had been away longer than I had anticipated. Edward reported. Masood just listened. “There are knights along the Coquet Valley, lord. They are Normans and Templars. We counted twenty knights and a hundred men at arms. They had a few crossbows with them and some servants They have destroyed the old motte and bailey at Rothbury.”
I looked at William. “They have recruited forces from elsewhere. Were there no Scots with them?”
Edward shrugged, “Some of the knights may have been Scottish but we could not tell. The men were not Scottish.”
“And, where were they?”
“They have occupied the tower at Otterburn. It looked to us to have been bigger at one time for there were ditches. They were not deep but they had put stakes in the top of the ramparts. They would not stop an enemy but they would slow one down.”
“That explains why they were so close us and also that they were watching. Perhaps now that the spy is gone it will not be so easy for them. The Normans, was there an older warrior with a white flecked beard? Perhaps someone giving orders?”
“Aye lord. He was the one they all deferred to.”
“Then that is de Vernon.”
My son asked, “And another younger man with corn coloured hair and a scar near his eye?”
