Medieval IV - Ring of Steel

by Kevin Ashman

  ‘You have good reason to be so careful,’ said Madog, ‘for he was indeed on his way back here not two days ago. You were betrayed by an informer and De-Lacey set about falling upon your flanks while you were engaged with the siege.’

  ‘So where is he?’

  ‘Licking his wounds amongst the hills. We found out about the threat and rode to engage him.’

  ‘You defeated De-Lacey’s column?’ asked Cynan.

  ‘No, complete victory was not forthcoming for the ground hindered my lancers but my infantry held him up long enough to inflict heavy casualties and send them racing to the cover of the forests. We may have gained you a few days, Cynan but do not under estimate this man. He has fought alongside Longshanks in many campaigns over many years and is an astute tactician.’

  ‘Yet he came off second best to your men?’

  ‘On this occasion,’ said Madog, ‘but I think the last few years has put fat about his belly and arrogance behind his eyes. I’m sure he won’t underestimate us again, so ensure your men are alert and prepared to display a mettle such as they have not needed before.’

  ‘I can assure you my men are ready,’ said Cynan, ‘but nevertheless, you have my gratitude for your intervention. Come, we have had a pig killed this very day and though it is intended for the cauldrons to feed the men, the cooks have saved a slice of belly for my trencher. We will share the meat together as comrades.’

  ‘Your invitation is gratefully received,’ said Madog, ‘and I am happy to accept, assuming my men are also fed.’

  ‘They will be well cared for,’ said Cynan, ‘as will your mounts.’

  ‘Then lead the way, for it has been many a day since I relished the taste of pig.’

  The two men walked to a nearby stone cottage and past the two guards before ducking into a fire lit room. A servant girl sat on a stool near the fire, cooking the meat while another stirred a pot she had just placed upon the table.

  ‘Make another place,’ said Cynan as he approached the table, ‘my guest will share my fayre.’ He poured a jug of ale into two wooden tankards and both men sat at the table to wait for the food.

  ‘So,’ said Cynan eventually, ‘what brings you away from Caernarfon?’

  ‘It became obvious that it was too difficult to defend should a well-trained army approach,’ said Madog, ‘and we needed to take the fight to the English. We have already taken the castles at Howarden and Dolwyddelan. Along with the skirmish with De-Lacey, we are making ourselves known to the English Barons.’

  ‘An impressive haul considering the short time span.’

  ‘Perhaps but we caught Howarden sleeping and Dolwyddelan was undefended, the bigger prizes lay before us.’

  ‘And they are?’

  ‘Once we have consolidated at Dolwyddelan, we ride on Criccieth and Harlech.’

  ‘Tell me,’ said Cynan, ‘I admire what it is you have done but your strategy evades me. Do you really think you can defeat Longshanks?’

  ‘At the moment, if we were to meet on the field of battle, probably not,’ replied Madog, ‘but this is not about a clash of swords it is about a clash of cultures. The people of Wales have accepted the English yoke for too long and have become accustomed to the weight. The main battle we face is not against English knights but the complacency of our own people. Even now, although many have flocked to our banners, ten times that have stayed in their beds, happy to accept the English tyranny in return for a quiet life. Well that has to change, Cynan, there is only so much that people like you and me can do. Yes we can besiege a castle but what happens when we move on? Unless the people refuse to don the yoke once more it will all be for naught. I am not the provider of freedom for Wales but what I am is the ember that starts the fire. Every castle we take or manor we burn sends a message not only to Longshanks but to those still abed. The English are not unbeatable, they are not untouchable and do not have a god given right to walk these lands as master, they are skin and bone and bleed the same as us. All it takes is the mettle to make a stand. Longshanks may be able to defeat an army, but he will never defeat a cause.’

  ‘A pretty speech,’ said Cynan, ‘but our young men die in the same flames.’

  ‘Then what of you, Cynan. You fight as strongly as any, what is the cause that makes your heart race?’

  ‘I too desire a free Wales,’ said Cynan, ‘but have to confess my reasons are born of frustration rather than nationalistic pride. For generations my family ruled large swathes of land throughout mid wales. They were fair lords and the people were happy under our tenure but when Longshanks defeated Llewellyn twelve years ago, Edward confiscated most of our lands and bestowed them on those traitors who knelt to his banner. My father died a broken man closely followed by my mother, her heart torn in two by the way she saw her husband fall from grace to die in shame. To see a once great man give up to despair is a terrible thing, Madog, a death more cruel than the cut of any blade.’

  ‘I am sorry fate took your family down that path,’ said Madog.

  ‘Fate had nothing to do with it,’ said Cynan, ‘it was all the hand of Longshanks and that is why I fight, to pay back the debt of heartbreak on behalf of my family. Yes, the prize has changed and indeed if the freedom of our country is the outcome then I will pray at my parent’s memorial and ease their troubled souls but that is secondary. At the moment, I seek only the destruction of all things English, after that, well, we will see what happens.’

  ‘A sad tale,’ said Madog, ‘but I have been told you seek the crown of Wales for yourself.’

  ‘I have never sought the title, Madog but for many years I carried the burden of resistance alone. In the beginning there our numbers were few but as our ranks grew we became a thorn in the side of the English. Eventually we had an army and the English left whole swathes of land lest we water the soil with their blood. At last people could see that there was another option to servitude and we have formed cantrefs where the English fear to tread. The movement increased and eventually the flames fed themselves culminating in the siege of Du Bere. I knew then the advance would only be stopped by death or victory and intended continuing the resistance but imagine my surprise when I found out about some lord in the north claiming the crown of Wales, someone who was yet to swing a sword in anger.’

  ‘A fair observation,’ said Madog.

  ‘And a great concern,’ said Cynan, ‘one which I was not about to leave unaddressed. The movement was too important to have it ruined by someone playing at kingship.’ He paused to take a drink while staring into Madog’s eyes. ‘However,’ he continued, placing the tankard on the table, ‘I am man enough to confess that I might have been hasty with my judgement. Your results so far are indeed impressive though truth be told, fortune has indeed been your bedfellow. I do not seek kingship, Madog but if my hand is forced then I will take it if there is no other option. To have a weak king is worse than to have no king for it invites infighting and that way leads to self-destruction. So, continue along the path you have chosen and if you turn out to be the man you appear to be, then I will be the first to kneel before your banner, if not, then I will just as easily wipe your men from the field of battle and claim the throne for myself.’

  Madog was silent for a few moments before replying.

  ‘In the circumstances, I feel that is the best I can expect.’ He picked up his own tankard and held it up toward Cynan. ‘Let us continue in this manner, Cynan,’ he said, ‘on different paths toward a shared goal and at the end of the journey, what will be will be.’

  Cynan picked up his own tankard again.

  ‘So be it,’ he said and both tankards clashed together in a toast, spilling ale upon the table.

  ----

  One of the servants brought over the chunk of pork and cut it in half before adding boiled vegetables to the platters. Both men ate hungrily but were only half done when the door barged open and a soldier burst into the room before removing his helm.

  ‘Owain,’ said Cynan, standing up ‘what
brings you with such angst.’

  ‘Sire, the flag of parley flies above the castle, they want to talk terms.’

  Cynan turned to stare at Madog in surprise.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it would seem they are in a worse state than I thought. Come, join me in the negotiations.’

  The two men donned their chain mail and helms before adding their side weapons. On the way out, Madog picked up the last of the pork to eat on the way up to the castle. Meat was too valuable a commodity to leave lying in waste.

  ----

  Ten minutes later, Cynan and Madog sat upon their horses before the castle. On either side were two heavily armed Sergeants, each weighed down with heavy plate armour and both known as ferocious warriors. Before them lay the drawbridge covering the spike lined ditch surrounding the fortress. The sound of the portcullis being raised echoed from within and eventually the double gates opened to reveal four riders waiting within. As soon as the way was clear, the English party rode out to meet the Welsh, reining their horses in when they were no more than ten paces apart.

  The leader was dressed in full ceremonial armour covered with a white tabard bearing the colours of Edward.

  ‘My name is Phillip of Lincoln,’ he said, ‘Castellan of Denbigh in the absence of our lord, Sir Henry De-Lacey. Who speaks on behalf of the Welsh?’

  ‘That would be me,’ came the reply, ‘Cynan Ap Maredudd, knight of Llewellyn and soldier of Wales.’

  ‘Llewellyn?’ repeated Phillip in surprise, ‘a man long dead as far as I am aware.’

  ‘Dead in the flesh but not in the memory. What do you want, Phillip of Lincoln?’

  ‘I seek compassion,’ said Phillip. ‘The people within the castle thirst and whilst it is the duty of men such as us to suffer such deprivations, it is a sad day when civilians die due to actions out of their control.’

  ‘Is that not the way of all wars?’

  ‘Perhaps, but they were out of our control. I have influence in this situation only and if you are a man of honour, then you will allow the most basic of human needs to those who do not choose the life of a soldier.’

  ‘How many civilians do you have?’

  ‘About a hundred. If you can let us have access to the well under a flag of truce then we will need no more than a day to fill our barrels and your conscience will be clear.’

  ‘Phillip of Lincoln,’ replied Cynan, ‘just in case it has escaped your notice, your castle is besieged by a superior army with the sole intent of wresting it from your hands. Why would we give succour to those charged with blocking that path?’

  ‘Because the civilians bear no fault for situations out of their control. If you were a man of compassion, you could avoid the suffering of the many for the actions of a few.’

  ‘You speak pretty words, Sire’, said Cynan, ‘but this is not a game we play. Men will bleed, people will die, this is the way of such things but your compassion does you merit. Any man, woman or child, needing access to the well will be granted passage. However, upon leaving the castle gates they will not be allowed to return. Civilians will go to their kin within the town but should armed men leave, then they will be detained under guard until the castle falls, then to be released to return whence you came.

  ‘If this is the case then you condemn men to die of thirst, where is the chivalry in this?’

  ‘Where is the chivalry in enslaving an entire nation?’ responded Cynan, ‘and I am confused at your request. This is a siege, Sir Knight, an assault upon the servitude you have imposed upon the people of Wales. We have already both lost many men and before this task is done, many more will die, whether from thirst or by the sword. Either you are stupid or you stall for time thinking your master will soon return to aid your plight. I suspect the latter so let me say this, the man alongside me has already routed The Earl of Lincoln and his army not ten leagues hence. His command lays scattered across the battlefield, already carrion for the crows and the head of Henry De-Lacey is on its way to Caernarfon to be displayed upon the gate towers of the town. Do not play games with me, Phillip of Lincoln, I am here to take this castle at all costs and if that is over your rotting corpse then so be it.

  ‘You insult me, Sir,’ shouted the castellan, struggling to control his horse, ‘and I would have redress.’

  ‘In the name of god,’ roared Cynan, ‘this is not some petty tournament to be fought for the favour of ladies, it is a war. Men will die and walls will fall, such is the way of things. You have had my response, Englishman, your civilians may leave, your garrison cannot, unless it is under a flag of surrender. You have until noon tomorrow and then the offer is withdrawn.’

  ‘It is not enough, said Phillip,’ I need more time.

  ‘It is all you have,’ said Cynan, ‘the lives of many now lie in your hands, both English and Welsh. You talk of a chivalric code so why not display that which you preach, surrender the castle and there will be no more bloodshed for the sake of mere masonry.’

  Phillip considered Cynan’s words for several moments before answering.

  ‘If we cede the castle,’ he said, ‘what guarantee do I have that your men will not fall upon us as wolves?’

  ‘You have my word,’ said Cynan, ‘and what’s more, you will be allowed to leave under your own colours carrying full arms, however, I promise you this. If there is any sign of trickery on your part and any blade is drawn in anger, then I swear by almighty god we will fall about you with a ferocity such has never been known and no quarter will be given until the last of your English blood stains the Welsh soil beneath our feet.’

  ‘I will think upon it,’ said Phillip, ‘in the meantime, I will send out the women and children.’

  ‘So be it,’ said Cynan. ‘My herald will be waiting here at dawn for your final decision.’

  The English knight nodded and turned to ride back into the castle. Cynan also turned and rode back down the hill.

  ‘Cynan,’ said Madog quietly, ‘De-Lacey yet lives and still heads a strong force.’

  ‘The castellan doesn’t know that,’ said Cynan, ‘and the thought that there is no possibility of relief will aid his thought process.’

  ‘Is victory using untruths as a weapon acceptable?’

  ‘Is war acceptable, Madog? I suggest that whatever weapon can bring conclusion to the conflict is a good one. Lies are just another weapon in our arsenal. ‘

  ‘Interesting perspective,’ said Madog, ‘what makes you think he will accept your terms?’

  ‘My sources have told me the well inside the castle dried up weeks ago and they rely on the one outside its walls for their water. Now it is in our hands, and strongly defended, there is no way they can hold out. I believe there is a strong garrison within the castle and ordinarily it would be an impossible task, but in this instance their strength is also their weakness.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘The larger their number, the more resources they use. A man can live without many things, Madog, water is not one of them. If I was him, I would save the lives of my command, give up the castle and return to fight another day.’

  ----

  The following dawn saw Madog and Cynan standing upon the town perimeter wall, a good viewing platform to see the triple towers of the castle gates on the hill above. For a while they thought that the castellan had decided to wait out the siege and hope for relief but eventually Madog pointed at the flag of Edward, slowly descending the flagpole above the gate.

  ‘They are lowering the colours,’ he said, ‘it looks like your terms have been accepted.’

  ‘The man has more sense than I credited him with,’ said Cynan, ‘come, we should prepare to accept the handover.’

  An hour later a column of English cavalry rode slowly out of the gates followed by a hundred foot soldiers. Each was heavily armed and wore whatever armour they possessed. As the castellan reached the far end of the drawbridge, one of Cynan’s men rode to meet him.

  ‘Sire,’ said the Welshman, ‘my master sends his r
egards and has asked me to accept the flag of the castle on his behalf.’

  ‘Where is your master?’ asked Phillip, ‘tradition demands a surrender is accepted by the victor in person. His absence places doubt into my heart regarding my men’s safety.’

  ‘Cynan Ap Maredudd is not known for following tradition, Sire but rest assured his word is his bond and as long as your command keep their weapons sheathed then there will be no blood shed this day.’

  ‘So be it,’ said Phillip and gestured for his second in command to approach. The flag was handed over without ceremony and the column continued down the hill. As they rode through the town, the people came to the windows to watch them go. Many were glad to see them leave but those of English descent quickly packed a few belongings and ran out into the street to join the exodus, fearing the rule of the Welsh.

  The main road through the town was lined with Welsh infantry, each bearing their own weapons from pike and bill hooks to swords and clubs. There were even those bearing scythes and pitchforks amongst their number, such was the diversity of the army’s composition. As they passed an old man spat toward the castellan and though his second in command’s hand flew to his sword, Phillip snapped out a command.

  ‘Hold,’ he said, ‘do not be drawn into conflict by the action of a peasant, it is beneath you.’

  ‘But Sire, he should pay the price of such an insult.’

  ‘He will pay soon enough, Fredrick, they all will.’

  As they reached the town walls the column halted before the closed gates. Phillip pulled his horse aside and looked up at Cynan on the gate tower above.

  ‘Well, Sir, he called, you have my congratulations, the castle is yours, however, it is worth pointing out that it fell not to force of arms but to unfortunate circumstance.’

  ‘A victory nevertheless,’ said Cynan.

  ‘Granted,’ said Phillip before adding, ‘of course, you do realise this is but a temporary set of affairs and if I have my way, we will meet again in the near future, and the situation will bear little resemblance to that which we now share?’