by Griff Hosker
“I thought I was to watch over Richard’s progress.”
“You were but that is superseded. When the coronation is over you will travel to Brittany with Geoffrey. Your presence will guarantee that Countess Margaret holds on to power until her daughter is of an age to be Duchess and marry my son.”
“And what of Richard?”
“My brother’s household knights, Richard le Breton, Sir Reginald Fitzurse, Sir Hugh de Morville, and Sir William de Tracy have sworn that they will be his mentors.”
I nodded, “They are good knights.” He smiled. “But Your Majesty, I would like to spend more time with my family.”
He smiled as though he was the most generous of men, “You have between now and June to be with your family. You will watch your children be married and, by then, you will be bored and ready for action, I have no doubt.”
He did not know me. I would not be bored for I was weary of war. It was not perfect but I would have six months and that would have to do. “Then, with your permission, Your Majesty, I would like to leave on the morrow.”
“So soon? But I had planned on a hunt.”
“It is winter, majesty and I need to get home. I have missed Christmas and there are two weddings planned in April.”
“Very well but I let you go reluctantly. I want you and your knights here for the first week in June. No later!”
That meant that I would have less than six months!
First, I had a feast to endure. It was hard to sit while young Henry took every opportunity to belittle my achievements and those of his brother. There was little love lost between them. At one point Eleanor intervened in the row which threatened to spill into violence. King Henry did nothing because I think he enjoyed the arguments. It kept them divided. The last thing he needed was a trio of sons who might unite and take his lands from him. When Samuel had been their age he had been my son’s squire and all that he had wanted to do was become a knight. He was not trying to gain allies and supporters. Richard and Henry were. I was glad when I was able to beg permission to leave. Eleanor retired and that afforded me the opportunity to head for my room.
She was waiting for me outside in the passage. “Do not be offended by my son’s comments. Young Henry means nothing. He is in awe of you and this is his way of showing it. Everyone says that you were the architect of my husband’s victories. My son thinks that reflects badly on him. He is young but he will mature.”
“My lady he is about to become King of England. If he is not grown then surely he should not be king.”
“Perhaps, and there is something else. He misses Thomas Becket. The Archbishop was his tutor before he fled. He has none other to look up to.”
“William Marshal?”
“He is teaching him to be a knight. We both know that William is a great knight but a leader? He needs someone, like you, to make him a King. The Earl is a good teacher of knights. You are a kingmaker.”
Despite my afternoon nap I found it hard to sleep that night for there was too much racing through my mind. Stockton was my sanctuary. Once I was in my valley then I would be able to think again. I would be able to breathe and I would be able to speak what I thought and not use guarded comments.
My men noticed my silence as we headed north through the shortest days of the year. We travelled along snow covered roads with hoods pulled around our heads. I had a small escort: my squire, my servants and a handful of archers and men at arms. I was not being deliberately silent I was thinking of the situation I had left. Things were not well between the King and the Queen. Worse, they were not well between the King and at least two of his sons. I now saw why he wished me to be in London for the coronation. I was the guarantor of peace. When would my work be done?
Roger de Pont L'Évêque, the Archbishop of York, was a courtly man. He was a handsome man who liked to surround himself with beautiful things and servants and was no friend of Thomas Becket. We were in agreement about that. We also had much more in common. He understood the role the Archbishop had to play. He was happy to ride to war. Archbishop Thurston had done so with me at the Battle of the Standards and, as I enjoyed a comfortable night in his palace in York, he assured me that he would be willing to do so again.
“Your son has had two fine victories and from what I have learned he did so with few knights of Durham.” I cocked my head to one side. He smiled and spread his hands, “I have visitors and I receive news from far and wide. Unlike the Bishop of Durham, I am well aware of my duties and responsibilities. King William has become cautious since you defeated him. He sent Balliol and Douglas to probe your defences. He thought that the west, because the Welsh were attacking Chester, would be weaker. He has seen your strengths and my information is that he is now training and building an army which can match yours.”
I shook my head, “My days of leading the men of the north to war are gone. My son has assumed that mantle.”
“I pray not for your name alone is worth a hundred banners. Your son can lead men but your presence on the battlefield cows our enemies even more and puts heart into our own men. You are the Nemesis of the Scots. You have had a longevity which is quite remarkable. The more superstitious of the common man believe that you are protected and cannot be killed. We both know that to be a fantasy but when the fyrd goes to war they want to see the Warlord leading them.”
I was not certain that, even if that were true, it was possible. My left arm still troubled me. I was not the warrior I had been even five years earlier. However, I took the compliment, “Thank you Archbishop. I have tried to be the servant of God and the King,”
I promised to return at the end of May and, leaving York, headed north through a blizzard. It was as though the land was trying to stop me getting home. We spent a night at Northallerton with Sir John Fitzwaller. He was more of a farmer and less of a knight but his manor was rich and his people happy. His young son Hugh spent the whole of our time asking me about the battles in which I had fought.
His father finally sent him to bed, “I am sorry for my son, Earl. He thinks me a dull father for I never go to war. He does not know yet that the reason for that is your son and his knights of the valley. I fear that if war came then I would be a hindrance rather than a help.”
“All it needs, Sir John, is the ability to lead men and be resolute.”
He nodded, “Those Durham knights who fled the field at the battle of Gretna have made me realise that I should attend to battle skills. It is just that life here is good.”
“Then be prepared to defend it for there is a thin line of knights twixt you and disaster. If the Scots ever cross the bridge at Piercebridge then believe me their wild warriors will pour through your land and it will be devastated.”
He looked surprised. “Will they come? King William has tried twice and both times you and your son have defeated him.”
“One day he will find a way to slip through our defences. If I led the Scots and wished to invade England then this would be the time of year I would do it. Every English knight is within his walls waiting out the winter.” I smiled at the look of fear on Sir John’s face. “I do not think that he will do it, not yet anyway but he is building an army and it will be an army such as ours with mailed horsemen. The fight is coming and so you must prepare.”
It was quicker to head up the old Roman Road and cross the Tees at Sir Philip’s manor where there was a bridge. The blizzard had blocked the road we would normally take. There was less drifting on the Roman Road. We did not stay long at Piercebridge; just long enough for a beaker of heated ale and to find out from Sir Philip about the battle. We reached the west gate at Stockton after dark. There were too few of us to send a rider to warn them of our arrival and we had to knock to gain entry.
Ralph of Bowness opened the gate. “Earl Marshal, had we known…”
I smiled, “I am home, Ralph, and that is all that matters.” We went directly to the stable. “Simon, when you have seen to the horses then fetch those two small chests from my horse
.”
“Aye lord.”
“When that is done I shall not need you for a while. You have done well. Enjoy some time to yourself. It must be dull with an old man for company all day. I know the roads are bad but if you wished to visit with your parents at Fissebourne?”
He smiled, “No, lord. I will stay here. I will see my parents at the wedding. I will stay with you for I learn much every day.”
The welcome I received warmed me more than the fire. Ruth and Rebekah sat me there and Alice brought me buttered, heated ale and fresh oatcakes. Their attention made me smile, “I am not a dotard. I travelled from Northallerton. It is not a long journey.”
Rebekah took my hand and rubbed it, “It is in this weather and when you are no longer a young man.”
“I forget that you come from a hot country. We are used to this.” I waved over Ruth and Samuel. “And I hear that you are to be married.”
They both stood and the looks on their faces made them look like children again. They were delighted at my interest. It warmed my heart. I saw that Simon had returned with the two chests. “You cannot begin married life without coin. Here is a little gift from me.” I shrugged, “Or the Welsh, it matters not. Use it for whatever you wish.”
Simon gave them the small chests. They were filled with coins; gold coins. The two of them hugged me and I saw a grateful smile on Rebekah’s face. She knew that beginning married life was always easier with coins. I needed no coins. When would I spend them? My life span could be measured on the fingers of one hand. I put those depressing thoughts from my mind. It was good to be home. William and I were left by the fire when the rest retired. We both spoke of our campaigns. He told me of the men who had fallen. I knew many of them and I was saddened by their loss. I told him what I had learned from the Archbishop about King William’s motives.
William nodded, “I did wonder about that, father. It was a good plan and a clever plan but the King was not with them and that made me suspicious. It will take time for the Scots to raise an army. We took much ransom. Balliol has even more cause to hate us for his ransom was high. I think King William will have to gather coin by fighting the men of the islands. He is probing us and he is learning how we defend. He is a clever man.”
“And we need to plan what we do about Sir Ralph, Sir Padraig and my grandson. They need manors.”
“Gainford is still vacant and Ralph would be close to his father. I always worry about Sir Hugh for he is exposed where he is.”
“And Padraig? I gave him Reeth but that was to give him an income. You need knights who are close to you.”
“Wulfestun has no lord. It is a small manor but…”
“It is close to here and Padraig could begin with nothing and grow. That is a good idea. And Samuel?”
“I have spoken to my son and he is happy to be as Sir Richard was and Sir John before him, a household knight.”
“And you and Rebekah would be happy about that? You will be losing your daughter and you would like your son close to you.”
William laughed, “You know me well. However, my son is happy to live here in Stockton.”
“That is good for a while but you know yourself that your son needs to be his own man or he will never be the knight to rule the valley when you are gone.”
“You are still teaching me even though there are grey hairs in my beard. I will think on your words. He smiled at me. “It is good to have you back even though it will be but a brief time.”
The weather kept me inside the castle and the town for eighteen icy days. I did not mind. I was able to spend time with my grandchildren. They might be grown but to me they were still bairns. With Eleanor in Yarm and Ralph at Barnard Castle the company of their grandfather made a welcome distraction. There was ice on the river and that prevented the ferry crossing the river. We were, to all intents and purposes, cut off. I had chosen the only way practical home across the Tees. When the freeze finished and the ferry could cross the river the first visitor was James of Acklam, Wulfric’s captain of the guard.
“You had better come quickly my lords; the priest has given the last rites to Sir Wulfric. I fear that my master is dying.”
We needed no urging and the three of us crossed the river along with Wilfred. Wilfred had fought as a man at arms alongside Wulfric. As we crossed the chilly and dark river James said, “He began to deteriorate some days ago. We would have sent word then but the weather…”
“I know James.” I put my hand on his shoulder for I could see that he was upset. “God has sent this break in the weather so that we can be there. He will not die without his friends around him.”
“I would have swum the river if I could.”
The faces of the servants and men at arms told their own story. The whole castle was in a state of shock. We were ushered into his chamber. It smelled of death. He had fouled himself. The priest shook his head as we approached. I thought, at first, that he was dead already. He was not and he opened his eyes as we approached. He gave a wan smile when he recognised me, “Warlord, you came! I told this fool that you would. Go priest. You have done your duty. I have been shrived. I can meet my maker, now let me speak with the Warlord!”
I could not believe how gaunt he looked. My son was also shocked. “Peace, old friend, I am here.” I took his hand in mine. It was icy. Death was crawling up his body.
He smiled, “And that is the greatest honour in my life. Not my manor, not my knighthood but that the Warlord called me his friend and unlike others, dissemblers and oath breakers, he meant it.”
“You have ever been my friend, comrade and staunch shield brother who was always by my side.”
“It has been a privilege to serve you and I am only sorry that I leave you early with a worm which eats me from the inside.” He closed his eyes and I saw that he was in pain. “It is times like this that I wish I was a pagan and that the afterlife was a Valhalla full of warriors with whom I had fought.”
“Aye that would be something.”
“My lord, I do not have long. I can feel neither my legs nor my lower body.” I nodded and squeezed his hand. It felt even colder now. “Swear that whoever is your new lord here will look after my people. They are all good folk and have served me well. Give my wealth to them equally. I have no one else. My sword I give to Samuel. I see him there and he is a fine warrior. I know he has a good one but he will have a son and it would please me if he bore this sword. I will be buried with my war axe. James of Acklam knows my wishes.”
I knew that he was waiting for my words, “I swear, Wulfric of Thornaby that your wishes will be carried out to the letter. The lord of this manor will treat all of your people well or will forfeit the manor. More, I say that I swear that once, each year, we will feast and remember all those who have died for this valley, you, Dick, Sir Edward, Roger of Lincoln, Ralph of Nottingham, Erre, all will be toasted. We will drink so much that our servants will need to put us to bed.”
“He smiled, “Thank you lord, I…” there was a soft sigh. His eyes were open but the spirit of Wulfric lay a little above our heads.
None spoke. Wilfred, James of Acklam, Samuel and my son, each of us had our own thoughts and memories. I was still holding Wulfric’s hand and I took it and placed it over the other. I took his sword and handed it to Samuel. He said not a word but I saw, man that he was, his eyes filling. Words would have broken the moment. I gestured towards the door and Wilfred, William and Samuel left.
“If you need aught, James then do not hesitate to ask. We have lost a great warrior this day.” He nodded. He was unable to speak. If he had he would have unmanned himself. “You will arrange the funeral as he said?”
He nodded and regained his voice, “Despite his words, lord he was fond of Father Nicholas. We will bury him in our church. We have a place prepared. Father Nicholas asked me to ask you when would be a good time for the burial?”
I gave him a wry smile and answered, “Never. But we must get him in the ground. I will send to my knights. Th
ey will wish to say farewell. Let us say the day after tomorrow.”
The others were waiting for me at the ferry. I did not notice the icy wind flecked with sleet. I felt almost numb already and it was nothing to do with the cold. Wulfric was almost the last of my first warband of warriors and he was gone. I had outlived them all save my first squire, Harold. I was remembering all the battles my former man at arms had fought at my side. He had been a rock. The wound from the Scots had been his undoing.
As we boarded the ferry William asked, “Who do you think should be the lord of the manor?”
“There is but one choice, for the time being; Samuel was given Wulfric’s sword. One day he will be Lord of Stockton and we will appoint another when that day comes but for the present let this be Samuel and Eleanor’s home. I know that my grandson will look after Wulfric’s people and he will guard the sword until his son is born.”
The burial of Wulfric was a sobering moment for all of us. Sir Harold was now the last remnant of the first retinue I had led. He had been my squire, Edward and Wulfric had been my men at arms and Dick had led my archers. We had been small in number but great in heart. Now there were just two of us left. When all the rest had left the church Harold and I knelt there. My wife was buried beneath our feet.
“Lord, do you think there is a heaven? I know that the priests tell us there is. I have told my children that if they are good then they will go to heaven but what if there is no heaven? Have we wasted the time we spent being good?” He turned and his face was serious. “I ask you, Warlord for, since Dick died, then you are the closest man I have to a father. Whatever you say I will believe.”
I had a great responsibility. Harold had known nothing save Sherwood and the life of an outlaw until I had made him my squire. He deserved honesty and he deserved the truth. I spoke from the heart. “You could not be bad, even if you tried. You and Dick were noble even when you lived outside the law. That is what divides men. It is not titles. You have a title. Dick had one and never used it. It is what is in your heart that decides if you are noble or villain. Would you have your sons as villains?”
