Authors: Martin Archer
Tags: #Historical Fiction
Then I assure Sir Wilfrid that Lord William and his men would be most certainly be honored to join John’s army and follow him against Richard’s supporters and to France in a heartbeat – except unfortunately they can’t because William’s fighting men are what some are now calling Marines or naval infantry, men who are trained to fight on both land and on ships - and they are already all off to the Holy Land to fight the Saracens and save the Christian refugees Richard abandoned.
Only Lord William’s new apprentice archers, I explain, are ever here in England and they’ll be leaving for the Holy Land as soon as they finish getting ready.
Unless, of course, we need them here as we certainly do.
“Indeed it is to help Prince John and the refugees that I have come to you, Sir Wilfrid.”
Then I go on to explain that Lord William is in possession of Restormel Castle in distant Cornwall and needs to keep it so as to have a place to train his Marines before they take ship to the Holy Land. Having such a castle for training purposes and using it to help maintain Prince John in control of England are so important that Lord William and the refugees would deem it an honor to contribute everything they have to Prince John, and cover your expenses as well, of course.
“All it requires,” I assure Sir Wilfrid, “is that Restormel permanently remain in William’s hands as its earl. Say fifty pounds for the castle and five for your trouble?”
Sir Wilfrid’s eyes light up and we begin to negotiate in a manner befitting the gentleman he is. We quickly spit on our hands and shake for fifty pounds of silver for Prince John and eight for Sir Wilfrid.
“I need eight,” Sir Wilfrid explains to me, for “the priests who will join me in praying for Earl William’s success.”
It’s all agreed. And because it is for such a good cause - he’ll drop everything and have the documents ready first thing in the morning so his men can accompany me to Southampton to get the coins.
And because Sir Anthony is a great gentleman, and didn’t become one by being slow to seize an opportunity, the first thing I do is send one of my men rushing back to Southampton in a hired carriage to make sure the cog is anchored away from the dock and the men remain on high alert.
Sir Wilfrid’s willingness to quickly sell Restormel and the earldom to William is explained by what I learn the next afternoon from a talkative old law reader in the alehouse where I am passing the time waiting for the return of the Papal Legate.
It seems the father of the late Earl’s wife is wasting no time in marrying her off again. He has found the poor widow a new husband, Henry FitzCount of Launceston Castle – and he is in London on the same mission as mine. Worse, goddamnit, he has been similarly successful by going to King Richard’s chancellor, William Longchamp.
I don’t have time to find out what FitzCount offered Longchamp and it really doesn’t matter. The reality is that there are now two people claiming to be the Earl of Cornwall – and we’ve got Restormel and Trematon and he has Launceston.
Oh shite. William will be pissed. Now we’ll either have to kill the bastard or leave more men in Cornwall.
Although I’d dearly like to stay I don’t have time to find out more from the talkative law man. So I buy the good man another round and take myself off to visit the papal legate to discuss the importance of having a bishop in Cornwall who understands the importance of collecting money for him to send to the Pope.
Maybe my new friend still be here when I return; I certainly hope so. He’s a purse full of news and information.
The papal legate is a seedy young Italian fellow with greedy eyes and a command of Latin even worse than mine. He listens to my tale with growing interest. And he quickly agrees with my lament that the bishop currently responsible for Cornwall is far away in Exeter and never visits. The result, I strongly suggest, is that the church is leaving a lot of Cornish coins uncollected that should be going to Rome
.
At least that’s my story and I stick quite firmly to it – in addition, of course, to offering a bit of a prepayment to help cover the good man’s expenses.
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While Thomas is gone we begin seriously training both our archers and our apprentices as to how to fight on foot with pikes. It is something we need to do - the Earl could have scattered us and won if he had come in behind us and attacked with a small group of either armored knights and men at arms on horseback or a highly organized group of men fighting the way Thomas says the Romans used to fight.
Indeed that’s what we are trying to teach our men, to fight as a group instead of individually; so they support each other and such like. What’s really difficult is teaching the men to march in step so they can stay close together and we can move them around in close packed groups the way Thomas says the Romans did. It’s slow going because they’re just as likely to start out on one foot as the other.
We spend hours every day practicing and I think they’re starting to get it. Some of the archers are becoming very good shots even when they are walking in step with their fellows.
A letter arrives from Yoram on Cyprus while I’m waiting for Thomas to return. It comes not on one of our ships but on a Bristol cog from Cyprus carrying spices and refugees.
Its captain refuses to deliver it until Harold hands him the one hundred silver coins Yoram promised we will hand to him when he does. It’s a high price but Harold pays it - and then gets to worrying that he might have done the wrong thing. So he sends it by galloper and offers to come himself in case he needs to explain his decision to pay so much.
Harold doesn’t have to come. He’s made a good decision and I immediately send back the galloper with a message thanking him for making it. And when I send it back I send it with questions – what does it mean that the letter came during the storm season? Is that when the pirates are in harbor so it’s safe for ships to sail? And, oh by the way, would he please ask around and find out when exactly is the storm season around Algiers?
What I don’t ask might be the most important question of all - why aren’t we earning these coins carrying messages instead of paying them?
Yoram’s letter is an encouraging letter. He reports that the six galleys we sent back to him all arrived safely and that they and our other galleys have already made a number of trips carrying refugees from the Holy Land ports to Cyprus.
His bad news is that poor Athol finally died and there are now so many refugees camping and working about our fort on Limasol that he doesn’t know what to do with them all. The second curtain wall is almost finished and unless he hears otherwise he’s going to start a third to keep the men busy.
His other bad news is even worse - one of the galleys we left with him has either been sunk in a storm or been taken by pirates. He suspects the latter but doesn’t know.
That’s worrisome because pirates rarely attack war galleys since they usually carry only fighting men.
Yoram reports the galley we left in Acre under Simon, Angelo and young Andy is doing quite well. But he’s worried about Randolph even though he’d heard indirectly from our men at Acre Randolph has been making profitable day trips. Apparently he is using his galley to move refugees up the coast whenever one of Yoram’s galleys is in port and can cover its absence.
He says he’s worried about Randolph because he hasn’t heard from him for a while and because the refugees report the Moslem priests are telling their people that God wants them to kill everybody who isn’t a good Moslem - the way the crusaders sometimes kill non-Christians when they come across them.
Chapter Seven
Trouble and Thomas return to Restormel on the same cold winter day. Thomas is no more than tucking into a good meal and telling me and George his news when a galloper arrives from Trematon. They are besieged by a large force and desperately need help.
Two minutes later and the men are jumping into their formations and horses are being saddled in response to a beating drum and atrocious bleats on some kind of metal horn we bought off a Falmouth merchant. Unfortunately no one knows how to blow the damn thing.
And yes we now have horses. Fourteen of them - some bought at the Falmouth fair; some from the peasants after the crops are in. Most them are barely usable.
“Thomas, you stay here with George and the boys. I’m going to leave you all of the apprentice archers in the training company and all the local men. Some of the new archers have become quite good and they’re all highly motivated. It will give you a strong force in case this is a ruse to draw us away. I’m taking Henry with me as my second and Robert will stay as your chosen man. Don’t take any chances. Bring in the men and livestock from the villages as well and keep the drawbridges up at all times.”
With that I send off our gallopers to scout ahead and we begin a forced march towards Trematon.
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We arrive in the middle of the morning and we’re too late. The castle is fallen. We know as soon as we come in sight and see the gates open and all the men loitering around it. I’m on horseback with the gallopers around me.
“Form your squares. Form your squares.” I shout over my shoulder. And a few seconds later begin to hear the order repeated by the sergeant captains of each of our five companies.
It only takes a few minutes before we are five companies of men marching forward in step to the cadence of the big drum each company carries. It’s an impressive sight. Let’s hope it works.
As we march forward we can see men beginning to pour out of Trematon in response to our arrival. Some of them are carrying things – the spoils of war it would seem. Some are mounted but most are not.
We are marching forward and I can see the men on horseback around Trematon chivvying the men on foot into a large group. Then three of them gallop over the field towards us.
“Who are you and what do you want?” one of them shouts.
We keep coming and I shout an answer back.
“I’m the Earl of Cornwall and I want you outlaws off my lands. Who are you?”
“I’m Sir Stanley of St. Emlion he answers in French and these are my fellow knights in the service of Henry FitzCount, lord of Launceston and Cornwall?”
“Have you seen the signature of King Richard or Prince John on FitzCount’s charter for Trematon and Restormel and Cornwall – yes or no?”
There is no answer and we keep coming. So I shout my question again as we close. Still no answer and two of the three knights turn their horses so as to stay ahead of us.
The third knight remains for a moment longer and raises his arm. He obviously wants to stop us for a parley. We do not and he finally turns away but keeps looking back as he retreats ahead of us. He wants to talk but he’s seen the bows my horsemen are carrying and is wisely staying out of range.
“What of Lady Dorothy and her children?” I shout after him; “are they alive and well?”
The look on his face tells me all I need to know.
“Any knight who participates in the killing of the children of an English or French noble will be excommunicated, lose all his titles and land, and be declared an outlaw. That is King Richard’s law and I am sworn to uphold it and I intend to.” I shout to him.
It’s all ox shit, of course, but if that’s not Richard’s law it should be; it’s certainly mine.
Sir Stanley starts to say something but then he turns away and begins trotting after his fellows before we reach him. They are headed towards a group of mounted men standing in front of a mass of foot soldiers assembling next to the Trematon walls.
“Ride away quickly, far away, if you are an honorable knight and do not raise your sword against children; stay and die in disgrace and purgatory if you do.”
That’s what I shout after him as I raise my arm to stop my men on horseback who are drawing their bows. In the distance I can see thirty or forty mounted men gathered around a standard. They are looking and pointing at us.
My gallopers and I stop our horses and wait as our columns pass by on either side of us to the beating of their drums. Twenty men wide and five deep they are.
And they’re in step and keeping straight lines; they look good by God.
Well of course their lines are straight; they have to be straight don’t they? – because each file of five is helping to carry two of the long Swiss pikes in their left hand and every man is carrying two quivers of arrows even though only three of each five has a bow. The other two are the pikemen. The pikes are straight so the men carrying them walk straight.
It looks damn impressive.
“Archers nock while marching”
That’s the order I shout as the marching men come past me. Our lines break up a bit as they come to a low stone fence but reform on the other side as the men come over it.