by Kevin Ashman
‘What do you intend to do?’
‘I intend to pay my dues, Tylor, I intend to join the fight and stop cowering like a frightened knave.’
For a few seconds there was silence but eventually another man stood to speak.
‘Your words are wounding, Edwyn yet truthful. We are treated thus because we allow it. It is time for that to stop and if there is indeed a Welsh army sweeping across the country, then there is no better time than now. What do you want us to do?’
‘I do not have detail about me,’ said Edwyn, ‘but propose meeting up away from the effects of ale and boastful talk to discuss what action we can take. There is a disused barn not two leagues hence, deep in the valley of Deer Fall. Let us all pledge to meet there at sunset on the morrow and agree our path.’
‘You realise you talk treason,’ said a voice, ‘and that is punishable by hanging.’
‘Treason or freedom, Selwyn?’ asked Edwyn, ‘which is your point of view?
‘I only say that which is on many minds, Edwyn, these things have to be faced.’
‘Granted but let us open them up to discussion when the rest of the townsmen are present.’
He looked around the room one last time.
‘So be it. Tomorrow at dusk bring an open mind and any fellows who harbour similar feelings of unrest but let it also be known that any man woman or child who brings this meeting to the attention of the castellan or his garrison, then that family will be exiled forever from Brycheniog.’
‘If any takes that path, Edwyn then the caress of a knife will be the reward, not exile.’
‘Aye,’ shouted the men and Edwyn nodded in gratitude. For an age longer the men talked amongst themselves and Edwyn finally stood to leave.
‘Until the morrow,’ he said but as he donned his cape, the door burst open and a young man came running in.
‘Alarm,’ he shouted, ‘look to your buckets and carts, the Fletcher house is ablaze.’
----
By the time the men reached the Fletcher’s house it was obvious there was nothing they could do. The flames from the thatched roof lit up the night sky and the sound of cracking stone pierced the night such was the intensity of the blaze.
Fire was one of the most feared disasters in the village and the call to help had already been heeded by many townsfolk but they now stood back in resignation, their buckets discarded as useless by their sides.
At the far end of the road, Gerald sat upon his horse alongside his soldiers, having enjoyed witnessing the fruitless attempts at extinguishing the fire. Edwyn approached the priest, breathing hard from the run.
‘Father Michael,’ he said, ‘is there anything we can do?’
‘No,’ said the priest quietly, ‘the building is beyond any intervention we can bring to bear. All we can do is watch the sparks do not set fire to those on either side.’
Edwyn looked at the groups of men already dousing the thatch of nearby houses.
‘What of the family?’ asked Edwyn, ‘are they still inside?’
‘No, luckily they had already gone but Gerald still saw fit to leave his mark.’ He looked down the road towards the English knight.
‘He did this?’ asked Edwyn.
‘He did,’ said the priest, ‘but it’s not the fact that he has fired a house that hurts so, it’s the look on his face that says he knows he can get away with it.’
‘Does he?’ replied Edwyn, ‘we’ll soon see about that.’
----
Deep in the heart of Wales, Garyn, Tarian and Geraint rode hard through the night, finally seeking shelter amongst the rocks of a craggy hill. Tarian set about making a fire while Garyn and his brother sorted out the horses.
‘This is still like a dream to me,’ said Garyn as they worked, ‘how can you now be alive when I thought you dead for so long?’
‘It is a strange story, Garyn and long in the telling but suffice to say I survived the sea voyage and settled in the north to fulfil a vow that now comes to fruition but you have to believe me, I only did so when I was told you had died as a brigand. Otherwise I would have scoured these lands from peak to vale in search of you.’
‘I believe you,’ said Garyn, ‘and truth be told, I too oft heard rumours of my death and did not seek to correct those who spoke in error. To be a corpse was a good defence against those who sought the bounty upon my head.’
‘So it is true, you are an outlaw?’
Garyn paused and considered his answer.
‘If you mean the words exactly, then yes we live outside the law of the king but we are not brigands and have our own morals to which we adhere.’
‘You talk of the Blaidd?’
‘I do, and am honoured to name them as comrades.’
‘They are often cursed amongst the people, Garyn, I struggle to balance your argument that you are not a brigand.’
‘It is a commonly held view, brother and one gladly spread by the English, or those who feel the sharpness of our blades. The facts are we have never taken as much as a morsel from the hands of the poor and indeed, oft distribute any spare we have to those in dire need, especially any who have suffered the loss of a husband or brother to an English rope for resisting their tyranny. But raiding the English supply lines was not our only means of survival and oft we sold our swords to the highest bidder as mercenaries.’
‘A role that could be viewed as dishonourable,’ suggested Geraint.
‘Perhaps so but don’t forget, the title of mercenary was also a mantle once worn by our father and though I am my own man, I would be doing him an injustice if I thought he was anything less than honourable.’
‘A point well made,’ said Geraint, ‘come, we are almost done here, let’s get ourselves to Tarian’s fire.’
They finished seeing to the horses and returned to join Tarian who had a small pot on the flames, already filled with water to make a stew.
‘It is no feast but will be hot and adequate,’ said Tarian, adding dried meat to the stock.
‘Tarian,’ said Garyn walking over, ‘we have ridden many leagues together this night and you fought on my behalf back in the castle, yet I know nothing of you and have not had chance to express my gratitude.’ He held out his hand and grabbed the man’s wrist.
‘If your brother’s description of you is true,’ replied Tarian, ‘then I suspect you would have done a similar thing for me had the situation been different.’
‘I hope you never have to suffer such an injustice,’ said Garyn, ‘but if so, and until such a day comes, I can only pledge my blade in your name should it be required.’
‘Appreciated,’ said Tarian sitting down upon a rock. ‘So,’ he said looking up at the two men, ‘have you two been getting acquainted?’
‘To an extent,’ said Geraint, taking his own seat, ‘but there is so much to tell, I fear we may need a scribe to record it all.’
‘A scribe I can’t provide,’ said Tarian, ‘but we do have a hot drink, a welcoming fire and a long night before us, so if that doesn’t warrant the telling of tales, I don’t know what does.’
Garyn joined them and looked across at his brother.
‘Well?’ he asked, ‘who’s first?’
----
Chapter Thirteen
Howarden
December 1294
Longshanks walked through the abandoned ruins of the castle, his rage silent within him as he witnessed for himself the devastation Madog’s army had wrought. Accompanying him was the constable of Howarden, the nearby town that had looked upon the castle as a refuge and focus of trade.
Most of the dead had been buried but evidence of the massacre still lay all around, a memory of the thriving community that had once graced the castle both in and outside of its walls. Clothing, weapons, cooking pots and even the occasional piece of burnt furniture lay scattered throughout the castle’s ward, all having been ransacked from rooms throughout the buildings and seemingly discarded when they were judged as having little or no value.
‘Who is he?’ asked Longshanks, ‘one of the Welsh?’
‘He was indeed Welsh, Sire’, replied the constable, ‘but not one of the rebels. He was a local man found looting the dead, days after the battle. My decision was to make an example of him to avoid others following his lead.’
‘I concur with your judgement,’ said Longshanks. ‘How many were killed?’
‘The Castle had a garrison of thirty, Sire but the slaughter did not end there. Madog sent a detachment into the town seeking any of English birth. Those not quick enough to hide were dispatched without mercy. Many were hung but as the rebels ran out of rope they simply slaughtered their victims with blade or axe and though the men rallied against them, they were no match, for the blood lust was high amongst the enemy and they were like rabid dogs. Over a hundred were buried over the following few days and never has this town suffered such devastation.’
‘Why did he take out his anger on the villagers?’’ asked Longshanks, kicking away a pile of snow to reveal the corpse of a dead dog.
‘I know not,’ said the constable, ‘and though there is talk that it was not by his command, it is a weak justification, the people were slain by those under his banner. As far as I am concerned the blood is on his hands and no other but Sire, that is only half of the problem. They emptied our granaries and meat stores to feed their armies. As well as burying those who fell by the blade we will soon be burying their children from hunger unless we get succour from those who can help.’
‘Have you sent word to Reginald De-Grey?’
‘We have but though he sent a cart of bread, he houses a vast army himself and needs every mouthful for his own soldiers.’
‘What about Wrexham?’
‘We have sent messages, Sire but winter is upon us and everyone is nervous about lowering their stocks, especially as there is war all about us.’
Longshanks stopped walking and looked around.
‘I have seen enough,’ he said. ‘I will arrange a scribe to attend you before this day is out. Tell him what it is you need to survive the winter and we will send a message to Wrexham under my royal seal, to provide the supplies you need.’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ said the constable.
‘One more thing,’ said Longshanks, ‘do you have word where this army now resides?’
‘No, though I know they oft use Dolwyddelan as a base. An army would do well to take a closer look.’
‘Noted,’ said Longshanks and turned to leave the castle. Outside, a patrol of four knights awaited him and as soon as he emerged through the damaged gateway he climbed astride his horse. ‘Tell the people of Howarden their loss is acknowledged,’ he said, ‘and rest assured, the deaths of their loved ones will be avenged.’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ said the constable as he watched the king ride away.
----
When Longshanks reached his encamped army he rode between the hundreds of tents before dismounting and walking into the farmhouse he had commandeered for the past few days. Around him were two and a half thousand men at arms and though at first glance the strength seemed modest for a king on campaign, everyone knew he had sent another fourteen thousand to Rhuddlan to set up a garrison from which to foray further into Wales.
‘Summon my officers,’ he said, discarding his riding cloak, ‘and bring me watered wine, I thirst from the ride.’
The servants scurried away to do his bidding and soon, two knights entered the room and bowed slightly before joining him at the table.
‘Sir Giles, Sir Warren,’ said Longshanks, ‘I have today witnessed the brutality of the man we pursue and I do not like what I have seen.’
‘I had heard rumours,’ said Sir Giles, ‘but like all such stories, I thought they may be embellished in the telling.’
‘Well these ones are not,’ said Longshanks, ‘the man’s heart is obviously poisoned against all things English and will not stop until there are none left this side of the border. He has to be stopped and stopped soon for every day we hesitate, more English blood stains his hands.’
‘Do you know where he lies, Sire?’ asked Sir Warren, ‘for our spies have not yet reported back and we only await confirmation.’
‘There is nothing more solid than that which we already know,’ said Longshanks. ‘He uses Dolwyddelan as a base but rampages from town to town across the north seeking out our brethren, pulling them from their beds and opening their throats for nothing more than the nature of their birth.’
‘Then what would you have us do, Sire, for we cannot pursue shadows?’
‘We will wait no more and take the fight to him. You will ride upon Dolwyddelan immediately and if it is in Welsh hands, lay siege upon it. Use every resource you can and if your numbers are found wanting, draw upon the garrison at Rhuddlan. Rip it from their hands, Warren and garrison it with a strong force of our own. Once done, send patrols to dominate the country thereabouts and deny them succour from any of similar allegiance.’
‘Aye Sire’, said Sir Warren.
‘Sir Giles,’ continued Longshanks, ‘ride to Chester with all haste. There you will obtain a fleet of ships and task them with sailing to Flint castle. Crew them with your command and sail along the coast to Ynys Mon. Your task is to assault the bridge there and secure a bridgehead for our army. Once done, defend it at all costs until I arrive. I will bring the rest of my column along the coast and will ride into Ynys Mon as we did when Llewellyn was the enemy. The island is a main source of Madog’s supplies and most of the burgages there are allied to his colours. In addition there is rumour that he receives supplies via the port in the north of the island, possibly from Ireland though this is not confirmed. Whatever the truth, if Ynys Mon is denied him then his movement is severely wounded.’
‘Aye Sire’, said Giles, ‘when is this strategy to commence?’
‘You are to ride immediately and I expect your assault to be made before the month is out.’
For the next hour they discussed the tactics in detail before the knights left and the king summoned his aid.
‘Prepare the men,’ he said, ‘we have wasted too much time. Tomorrow morning, we seek this Madog out and test the mettle of his claim.’
----
Two weeks later, three men sat at the side of a road, waiting for confirmation they could continue. Before them a guard of twenty blocked their path for though Geraint’s name was known to them, none knew him in person and they needed proof of his identity. Eventually a rider approached and gave orders to the soldiers at the roadblock.
‘Let them through,’ he shouted from his horse, ‘the prince will see them.’
Geraint, Garyn and Tarian remounted their horses and rode past the sentries toward the wooded slopes of the hills before them.
‘Follow me,’ said the rider and before long, the signs of a large body of men started to appear in the fields alongside the path. The evening was dark and as they reached the outskirts of the forest, the pace slowed as the going became more treacherous underfoot. Often branches whipped across their faces in the darkness but eventually they dropped into a valley and could see many trees had been cut down and tents erected amongst the stumps and debris of the fallen wood.
‘Wait here,’ said the rider and crossed a bridge over a swollen stream. Tarian looked around the clearing and though the night was now dark, he could see hundreds of fires just beyond the forest edge, a sign of a strong army taking shelter from the winter weather. Across the stream, the guide emerged from a tent followed by another man and Geraint grinned to see it was his old friend, Madog.
‘Hail, Geraint,’ called the prince, ‘well met. Get yourselve
s over here so we can celebrate your homecoming in the manner of men.’
The three riders dismounted and handed their horses over to the grooms sent from the command tents.
‘Geraint,’ said Madog, grabbing the man’s shoulders as they met on the bridge, ‘I feared you had fallen in your quest, you too, Tarian.’
‘We are both well, Madog,’ said Geraint ‘though for a while I was unsure whether we would emerge with our lives. This is Garyn, the brother I thought dead but not only is he alive and well, it seems he also leads the Blaidd.’
‘So I have heard,’ said Madog and held out his arm, ‘it is good to meet you at last, Garyn, the exploits of you and your men raise you to the ranks of fable in these parts. They say you have slain more Englishmen than Llewellyn ever did.’
Garyn grasped the Prince’s wrist to seal the friendship.
‘Tales are for the children, Sire and I would doubt most of what you hear but it is true we have managed to severely disrupt the English supply lines these past few years.’
‘A service I hope you will continue now you are freed,’ said Madog.
‘I have not ridden alongside my men for many weeks, Sire but I am confident that they continue without me for the Blaidd are bigger than one man.’
‘That’s good to hear, Garyn but I am being a poor host, please join me to eat and drink. We can discuss further at the warmth of the fire.’
----
Once the wet cloaks had been discarded and the offered food consumed with great relish, the three travellers sat around the central fire with the prince and discussed what had happened over the past few weeks. The fire smoke snaked upward to disappear through the hole in the apex as Madog told them of the astounding successes of the Welsh campaign so far. Geraint and Tarian were particularly pleased as they realised the boy who they had feared may struggle with the burden of leadership had embraced all it entailed and become a successful leader of men.
‘So what is next?’ asked Geraint, ‘will the army retire to their villages until the winter is over?’
‘No,’ said Madog, ‘we dare not. As we speak, Edward rides his columns into Wales. If we disband now, it is possible that he will gain the advantage and there is no guarantee my men at arms will return in the spring. If that happens then all this will have been in vain.’
