by C. B. Hanley
‘Edwin!’
The shout from behind was from John and the others. They strolled across the open space of the dock, ignoring the busy, running, loaded, cursing men all around them.
‘Got another job, have we?’ joked Nigel as they reached Edwin and his companion.
‘No, but – did you know the lord earl had a ship of his own? This is it.’
John looked it up and down. ‘Didn’t know it was his own, but we went on one like this when we went to France three years ago.’
Edwin was curious. ‘What was it like?’
Several of the men shuddered in response. John shrugged. ‘It wasn’t pleasant, but it’s part of the job, so we got on with it. Glad we had time to get our legs back before we had to do any shooting, though.’
Stephen had taken his own package on to the ship and was now descending, the plank bowing and bouncing under his feet. ‘You lads offering to help too?’
There was a general murmur of disagreement, and the men started to back away, but John clapped Edwin on the shoulder. ‘If he can, we can. Won’t take long if we all carry something each.’ There were a couple of groans and John’s voice hardened. ‘Jump to it, then. Sooner it’s done the sooner you’ll get back for your meal.’
With all of them helping it only took a couple of trips from the ship to a warehouse a couple of streets back from the dock. As they went there and back Edwin found out a little more about Stephen’s home, and was glad that he didn’t live on the coast. Apparently raiding parties led by someone called Eustace the Monk (who wasn’t really a monk, as far as Edwin could make out) made frequent attacks, sailing in under cover of darkness to raid, steal and even murder.
‘But does nobody stop them? You have no garrison?’
Stephen made a derisive noise, struggling under the weight of a bale of something. ‘If they tried to attack any of the noble folk I expect they’d get short shrift, but taking our food and our women, that wasn’t worth their while to defend.’
‘Women?’
They reached the ship and Stephen gladly dropped the bale, putting his hands to his back as he straightened. ‘Aye. I had a girl I was going to marry – pretty little thing, biddable, good cook, and all sorted out with her father as well. Then while I was away on a run up the coast they came. Found her and a couple of others out combing the shore, nobody else around, and … well, what they did to them was …’ He tailed off and shook his head.
Edwin thought of Alys, of all the girls in his home village, and he felt sick.
Stephen prepared to hoist the weight once more in order to carry the bale up the gangplank. ‘Couldn’t marry her after that, of course. Absolutely ruined. So I gave the dowry back and her father made no fuss. But if I ever see that whoreson of a monk, I’ll know what to do about it.’
He made his way up the plank, and then others came down to pick up the goods Edwin and his companions had carried. There were still a few bits and pieces left in the warehouse, but it was nearing noon, the time they’d agreed to be back in the camp, so they had to go. Nigel in particular seemed quite anxious about it. As they all dropped their last boxes and prepared to leave, Stephen said they’d have to get together for a drink sometime; the other sailors shouted out their thanks and said they’d see them later, which Edwin assumed to be a general farewell. He waved, but he wasn’t sure he’d see them again, for surely the host was going to form up somewhere ready to fight off the French when they landed. Perhaps these ships would sail behind to capture the French vessels while they were empty.
As they walked back from the town to the camp, Edwin realised he didn’t know what he was going to do when he got there. Hours of boredom certainly weren’t going to do him much good, not in noisy surroundings, anyway.
He skipped a few steps to catch up with John. ‘Have you got time to give me another shooting lesson?’
John was pleased. They fetched their bows and a sheaf of arrows, and left the others lounging around while they made their way through the camp. They had to pass through it to get to the area where the butts had been set up, but not so near to the big central pavilion that they were stopped. They found themselves at a fencedoff area where some squires and pages were being put through their paces; Edwin started to follow John around the outside of it, but stopped when he noticed that one of the boys there was Adam. He dawdled, hoping to get the chance for a brief word.
Adam was accompanied by the tiny new page, who was carrying a wooden sword; they were both wearing their padding. Edwin watched as Adam showed Hugh how to hold his sword up and how to place his feet while he was doing so.
John had walked on a few paces before realising he was on his own; he returned to join Edwin and leaned on the rail. He gestured. ‘Are we so desperate that we’re training tots now?’
‘No, he’s seven, apparently – that’s Hugh, the lord earl’s new page.’ Edwin tried to catch Adam’s eye; he was concentrating on his teaching, but eventually he looked up. Leaving Hugh to practise waving his sword in the air in various manoeuvres, he came over.
Adam nodded, looking more uncertainly at John. ‘Edwin. Are you all right? Should you be here?’
‘I’m fine. But how is the lord earl? Has anything else … happened?’
Adam shook his head. ‘Not since we all recovered our stomachs. Or at least, not that I know of.’
‘Good. But —’ Edwin was interrupted by John nudging him. ‘What?’
John pointed. ‘That little lad’s one of yours, you say? I don’t know who they are, but my gut says there’s about to be trouble.’
Back in the training area, little Hugh was still swinging his sword with intense concentration in the moves Adam had told him to practise, but he had drawn an audience: Salisbury’s younger squire and his page. They were standing watching Hugh, the elder with some hilarity. Edwin noted with relief that Philip wasn’t there. ‘It’s all right. They’re not exactly friends, but Adam was kind to —’
He stopped. To his astonishment the page Matthew, the one who was bullied by his elders and who should have known better, stepped forward to shove Hugh and send him sprawling. Gregory laughed louder and made some comment, of which Edwin only caught the word ‘nursemaid’.
Adam’s mouth set in a line. ‘Excuse me.’ He went over, picked Hugh up and addressed Matthew. ‘We don’t do that in my lord’s household.’
Matthew initially looked cowed, but Gregory stopped sniggering long enough to answer on his behalf. ‘Well, the rest of your household’s not here now, so what are you going to do about it?’
‘I don’t want to fight you. Just leave us alone to get on with our training.’
Adam started to turn away, but this seemed to increase Gregory’s confidence, and he pushed Hugh again. ‘Well, what if I say different?’
Edwin wasn’t sure whether to be worried or not. The boy was full of swagger, but he was no bigger than Adam, who was regarding him with quiet assurance. Adam sighed. ‘I told you, we don’t do that. So, if we have to fight about it, then fine. But if I win then you both leave him alone.’ He raised his fists.
Gregory grinned and they started to circle, gathering an audience of other squires, but they got no further before another voice froze them all.
‘Oh, what have we here? A challenge?’
It was Philip. He made his way through the rapidly evaporating crowd of boys, thrust Gregory out of the way without a word, and faced Adam. ‘You want to fight one of my lord’s squires, do you? Well, let’s try that, shall we?’
His voice was malicious, loaded with menace, and Edwin knew quite suddenly that this was going to be Philip’s way of taking his revenge on Martin. And it was going to be bad.
He turned to John. ‘I have to go for help.’
John looked puzzled. ‘Help? Ah, it’s just boys. A few fisticuffs and they’ll call it a day.’
Edwin shook his head. ‘It’s not – he isn’t – you don’t know – look, I’m going to find Martin. Promise me you’ll do something if it loo
ks like it’s getting serious.’
John was still focusing on the altercation. ‘Isn’t he the one whose lord wanted me hanged? Might be best if – oh no, wait, that isn’t fair.’
Philip had ordered Gregory and Matthew to hold on to Hugh, with the promise that ‘it’ll be his turn when I’ve finished with this one’, and Edwin saw the little boy squirming, frightened but unable to escape his captors. He tried to whack Gregory with his wooden sword but merely had it wrenched out of his hand; Gregory threw it on the ground and cuffed him around the head. Adam, meanwhile, had turned completely white, but he hadn’t moved.
Edwin wasted no further time and ran. How long would it take to find Martin? How long could Adam defend himself against a trained and vicious young man some five years his senior?
He reached the earl’s pavilion, but as he made to rush inside he was grabbed and prevented from entering by Turold, who was on guard outside it. ‘Sorry Edwin. My lord’s orders.’
‘But you don’t understand!’
‘I understand well enough that I have orders and I have to follow them. So just go, and don’t make me stop you.’
He was now standing firmly in the doorway and Edwin knew he wouldn’t get past. But what was happening back in the training area? He hadn’t wanted to make a scene, but there was no choice. ‘Martin! MARTIN!’ Please God he was inside and would hear.
Turold tried to herd him away. ‘Stop that!’
But Edwin kept on shouting as loud as he could. Men all around were stopping to look. After what might have been ages but might also have been mere moments, Martin ducked out of the doorway. ‘Edwin? What —’
Edwin opened his mouth, but oh, dear Lord, the earl was also stepping out, a furious expression on his face. ‘What is all this —’ His eyes fell on Edwin and his voice rose. ‘You!’ He started to gesture to Turold, who took hold of Edwin by the shoulders.
Edwin looked only at Martin. He didn’t have much time before he was dragged away. ‘It’s Adam. In the training area. Philip is —’
Martin had only to hear the name before he started forward, but he was called back by the earl. ‘Stop right there! What is this?’
Martin was torn between urgency and obedience. Obedience, as ever, won. ‘My lord, please. Philip, my lord Salisbury’s squire – if he’s left with Adam he will give him a beating.’ He turned to Edwin with a sudden look of panic. ‘Where’s Hugh?’
Edwin was in the process of being hauled off, his feet scuffing along the ground, his arms pinned behind his back, but he managed to wrest himself round so he was at least facing in the right direction. ‘He’s there too. Philip’s going to start on him next. Adam’s trying to stop him. Hurry!’
The earl, despite his anger, sensed some of the urgency. He addressed Martin. ‘Explain.’
‘My lord. Philip is – you don’t know him, my lord. He’s vicious – he will beat them both.’
The earl began to turn away. ‘Is that all? Boys fighting? Adam can take care of himself, I’m sure.’
Martin was so panicked that he went as far as to place himself between the earl and the pavilion. ‘Please, my lord.’
The earl stopped.
Martin’s words were spilling over themselves in his anxiety. ‘My lord, you don’t know him. If he’s threatened to beat Hugh then you can be sure he’ll make no allowances for size – he’ll cripple him. And if Adam is trying to stop him then it will be worse. He won’t stop, he’ll beat Adam to a pulp, maybe even kill him. And Adam won’t give up, he won’t back down, he will stand there and he will take it because he knows it is right. Please, my lord. You have to let me stop him.’ For a moment Edwin thought Martin was going to fall to his knees, but he didn’t. Instead he waited for the earl’s reply, desperation radiating from his every fibre.
Edwin belatedly realised he had passed on his message and could do no more here. He was better off getting back to the training ground to try and stave off the worst. He extricated himself from Turold and ran. Behind him he just about caught the earl saying Martin could go, and something along the lines of how he’d better be right, but he didn’t stop to find out.
He was breathless by the time he got back, stooping to inhale as he tried to take it all in. Hugh was still in the grip of the two bigger boys. John was still leaning on the rail. And Adam was …
‘He’s still on his feet – just,’ were John’s words, but he sounded less relaxed than he had earlier, and his hand was gripping the wood. Edwin could see Adam staggering, holding his ribs, blood trickling down his face as he sought to remain both upright and in between Philip and Hugh. But then Philip’s fist caught his bruised and battered face once more and he fell. Edwin cried out and made to climb the fence as he saw Philip settling himself down in triumph astride the fallen figure and landing thump after sickening thump on his body and head.
But before Edwin could scramble over, there was a roar from behind him. Martin, unencumbered by any heavy armour or padding, six-and-a-half feet tall, charged straight past him and vaulted over the fence in one bound. He was upon the attacker in two strides, grabbing Philip’s shoulders, wrenching him off Adam and throwing him bodily to one side.
Philip skidded away on his back in the dust before he realised what was going on. Then he smiled. Taking his time, he brought himself to his feet. Martin, Edwin couldn’t help noticing, stood aside to let him get up. Was that wise?
Martin was more furious than Edwin had ever seen him, his face distorted. ‘Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?’
‘Well, there’s no one your size around, you misshape, but I’ll teach you a lesson just the same. Or have you forgotten?’ He made a show of dusting down his gambeson.
Martin was not to be drawn. He said nothing and simply raised his bunched fists.
Philip prowled around him on light feet, taunting him, and Edwin wondered if everything was about to go terribly wrong. He scrambled over to their side of the barrier and tried to prepare himself in case he had to throw himself between them.
He therefore had the perfect view of what happened next, although, try as he might – and he was asked to recount it more times than he could remember, afterwards – he couldn’t quite explain exactly what had occurred. Philip moved in to try and land a punch, but instead of stepping forward to meet him or back to get out of the way, Martin merely planted his feet, drew back his right arm in a kind of twisting manoeuvre, and then brought it lashing round faster than Edwin’s eye could follow, to land it on a precise point on the side of Philip’s head. The smack noise of his knuckles connecting with flesh and bone echoed all across the space and outside it, where a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered to view the entertainment.
One thing Edwin did see very clearly was Philip’s eyes rolling back in his head as he flew backwards, and one thing he heard very clearly was the thump of him hitting the ground like a sack of grain, already unconscious. Incredibly, Martin had knocked him out with a single blow.
Martin made no move to hit his fallen opponent again, but instead turned to Gregory and Matthew, who were still holding Hugh and twisting his arms. His voice came out in a low snarl that Edwin hardly recognised. ‘Anyone else?’
Edwin didn’t really think that he’d hit two smaller boys, but he was glad all the same when they dropped Hugh and fled without a word.
Martin stood alone in the space, the focus of all eyes, his chest heaving. Then he slowly uncurled his fists and dropped his arms, before shaking his head like a dog coming out of water. He moved to kneel beside Adam.
Edwin remembered to breathe. He clutched at the rail for support, realising he was still on the inside – the wrong side – of it.
Next to him, John gave a whistle. ‘Well, I’ll tell you one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’m bloody glad he’s on our side.’ John patted Edwin on the shoulder. 'Go and help him – we’ll have our practice later.’ He moved off.
Edwin watched him go, still struggling to ta
ke it all in. He hurried over to crouch on Adam’s other side and to help him up. He was battered and bruised but still coherent, thank heaven. As they hauled him to his feet and put his arms around their shoulders, Edwin glanced back to where Philip was still lying. He was showing signs of coming round and would presumably recover, which was good in that Martin wouldn’t get into trouble for killing him, but which was otherwise very, very bad. Philip had been utterly humiliated in public. He would be a laughing stock throughout the host once word got round, and that would make him more dangerous than ever.
Chapter Nine
They arrived back at the earl’s pavilion, although Martin wasn’t quite sure how they got there; he had no memory of walking through the camp. As they drew near he summoned one of the sergeants to help him, and then sent Edwin on his way. No point in complicating matters further.
When the lord earl saw them he said nothing, but his lips set in the thin line that meant he was seriously displeased. Not with them, fortunately; he barked at Hugh to follow him and stalked out, but not before casting a glance at Adam that betrayed some sympathy and telling Martin to lay him down on his pallet.
Martin and his helper dragged Adam into the sleeping area, and Martin then sent the other man off to find Brother William. While he waited for the monk he laid Adam down and put a rolled-up tunic under his head – lying flat might make him choke on the blood streaming from his nose. He spied the cloth and basin that the earl had used for washing that morning and knelt down to try and get the worst of it off Adam’s face.
