The Archer's Gold: Medieval Military fiction: A Novel about Wars, Knights, Pirates, and Crusaders in The Years of the Feudal Middle Ages of William Marshall ... (The Company of English Archers Book 7) (4 page)

       Raymond's outriders watch everywhere else along the river, of course, but because of the road and the ford this is by far the most likely way for an enemy to come.

       “Alright Andrew, you’re in command with young George here as your second. You and your men just rushed here on a forced march from Restormel because a report just came in suggesting a large enemy force is coming to attack Cornwall.  What orders have you two already given and what are you going to do now – and why?”

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       Three days later our "jester's war" is over and we’re all together and once again on the road.  It had been a good practice.  Peter and his sergeants initially tried to surprise us, and almost succeeded.  They launched a token attack with some of their men at the ford while Peter’s main body of men crossed further up the river. 

       It would have worked but Raymond had his outriders spread out and go across the river to find them.  The outriders saw Peter’s main body of men leave the road and march north. They galloped back and told us - so Thomas and I, of course, marched the men north to meet them.

       Even so, there was a lot of confusion and initially only our outriders and Horse Marines were nearby and ready with their longbows and reserves of arrows when Peter’s men tried to swim across well upstream of the ford where the rest of us had been waiting in vain for his token force to attack.

       Henry, as you might imagine since he commands our land forces and their training, was furious.  He thought Peter's main body of Marines should have gotten upstream faster to get across before we were ready and told their sergeants as much - and he thought I should have marched the Marines on this side up there faster to stop them.
 

       The boys and our sergeants are wide-eyed as they listen to Henry swearing at me and Peter for being too slow to get our men into place; they didn't see his wink. 

       After his first effort almost succeeded I sent Peter went back into Devon to try again.  This time Raymond’s outriders did an even better job and the boys and I weren’t at all surprised when Peter’s men tried to storm the ford after trying to gull us with diversions both upstream and downstream. 

       When it was all over we got together at Launceston with the senior sergeants and everyone agreed that we'd learned something important - that we might need more outriders to watch for the bastards coming to attack us and more quickly pilot our Marines to where they are needed most.

       Might need them, your arse; we need them and that means we need more horses and more archers schooled to ride them and shoot their longbows while they do.

                                Chapter Four

       We’ve reached the Roman road in Devon and are camping just past where a side road branches off to go north five or six miles to Okehampton Castle.  That’s when one of Raymond’s outriders comes galloping in to report a party of knights and men at arms on horseback approaching on the road that come in all the way from far off London. 

       The outrider is breaking off his patrol and coming in to report it, he says, because the knights don’t have their usual baggage train of servants and women and merchants – they’re a war party. 
That was a right smart decision; there’s a man to watch.

       “Raymond, that was a good decision your man just made.  What’s his name?”

       Normally we would not have paid much attention to the knights and their men, just given them a friendly wave as they ride past.  But while we were practicing war fighting at the ford there had been travelers coming through on the road, monks and merchants and such, who told us they’d seen similar bodies of knights and soldiers on the road from London.

       What was so interesting and caught their attention is that the knights and their men had all turned off the main road and gone up the side road towards a castle owned by Lord Courtenay instead of continuing on into Exeter on the main road or turning off on the track towards Cornwall. 

       Courtenay's castle itself is a well-located and rather strong motte and bailey fortress with enough manors and revenues to support six knights.  It's called Oakhampton.  The father of the current Courtenay lord got it when he married one of the Brereton widows after his first wife died.

       “Mainly from the north the knights seem to be,” said one of the monks we’d invited to join us for supper yesterday.

       “That’s strange,” Thomas had replied as he ripped off a piece of newly fried flat bread and stuffed it into his mouth with a gulp of new ale.  “What are they doing down here?”

       “I’m not sure, bishop, I’m not sure.  But I did recognize the banner of one of the de Braoses.  They’re marcher lords with some of the lands next to our monastery.  Nasty piece of work aren’t they? Evil shites for sure.  Tried to take back some of forest land their grandfather gave us years ago, didn't they?  It’s said that they and the other Gloucester lords are among the barons what are opposed to the king.”

        "Now they'll really be pissed, won't they?"  offered another of our priestly guests piously with a belch, "what with the king annulling his marriage to the Gloucester girl and keeping the lands she brought him."

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       We’d stopped early and the sun wasn't even starting to go down when the party of knights and their men finally appear on the road.  They started to go on past us, but then curiosity must have gotten the best of them for a couple of knights broke away from the main party and trotted over to where our men are lounging about and starting to build cooking fires and put up their tents.

       “You there. Who are these men?”one of them demanded rather arrogantly as I stood up and he pulled his great huge jousting horse to a halt in front of me.

       “Some of us are Captain William’s men from Cornwall, Sir Knight.  On our way to London to buy some wagons and sheep and such is what we are.  And you, Sir Knight?” 
I didn't tell him that I'm William himself.

       He didn’t answer.  Instead he asked a question. “Are any of you knights or gentry?” 

       “No Sir Knight.  Not a one of these men was born to the gentry, let alone be a knight,” I replied with a nod towards the men around me who are watching us talk and listening intently. 

       “But we do have a priest with us if you need to buy an indulgence or some prayers.”

       I offered him that bit of information with a motion of my hand toward Thomas - who promptly waved a piece of newly fried flatbread at the knights to acknowledge my introduction and his willingness to listen to their sins and forgive them for a price.

       Thomas’s boys sat around him listening attentively.  They’ve all heard about knights,of course, and George and four of the older boys had been in the church at King John’s coronation and seen a good number of them - but harmless old Sir Percy at Trematon is the only knight most of the younger boys have ever seen.

       The knight’s only response is to rather arrogantly snort in disdain, kick his horse in its ribs, and ride back to his fellow knights who have pulled up and are waiting about fifty feet from where we are talking. 

       They began talking intensely and waving their arms and looking back at us as they moved to rejoin their little column.

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       “I tell you it’s too good an opportunity to waste,” the gray haired man said later at the table in Oakhampton’s great hall. 

       “Cornwall isn't with us so it's probably with John and we’ve got to start somewhere.”

       “Lord Roger is right,” a knight added.“I looked around while he was questioning their leader.  Not a one of them was wearing armor or had a shield.  Some of them had bows and I saw a couple with short swords but that’s about it.

       Their tents are very shabby and not a one of them has a banner on it.  No knights at all, not even any men at arms." 

       "That's no surprise," said another with a belch.  "Most of Cornwall's land isn't good enough to support any except for what the church already has.  I saw lots of young boys, though; probably along to herd the sheep.  Serfs probably.”

       “It would be good sport for the men.  Get the new ones blooded, wouldn’t it? We could tell the men they're outlaws and use that as an excuse if anyone complains.”

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       Things are nowhere near so optimistic and cheerful at the Cornwall camp. 

       “I for one am damned concerned, William, damned concerned.  All these knights and barons from the north down here when they should be up there or over in France fighting with King John.  Something’s wrong for sure.”

       “Unfortunately I think you’re right.  That’s why I just sent Raymond and his outriders north to watch Oakhampton.  Even so, we need to be prepared in case they decide to attack us.  Getting ready will be a good practice even if our fears are for naught.”

       “Peter, get yourself over here.  You too Henry.   I need your counsel.”

       Everything quickly becomes a great confusion with lots of shouting and swearing sergeants as we rush to use the remaining daylight to get ready.  And the first thing we do is move our entire camp to a much more defensible position nearby and lay out our weapons and supplies.  Then we spend the rest of the night awake and waiting. 

       We don’t have to wait the entire night to know we might have a problem – an hour or so before the first early light of dawn two of Raymond’s outriders gallop into camp with news. 

       Oakhampton Castle’s courtyard is alive with activity.  Raymond's message is that the knights and their men are preparing to ride out.  He has no idea of where they are going or why.

       Long before sunup all of our Marine archers are in place and our relocated camp is feverish with the excitement of the unknown that the men have caught from their sergeants.  That’s when we hear horses’ hooves clattering in the darkness and Raymond and his outriders ride into camp.

       “They’re coming, Captain,” Raymond shouts even before he swings off his horse to dismount. 

       "Could be as many as several hundred of them from the lanterns we saw flickering in the castle courtyard and noise they were making.  Maybe more – we couldn’t really see them.  But I’m still not sure they’re coming for us.  They may just be getting an early start for Exeter or, God forbid, Cornwall." 

       "If they're headed elsewhere, they’ll pass us close, but they’ll pass us.”

       “Well, if they’re coming for us, Raymond, they’ve made a great mistake – we’re ready for them.” 

       It’s true and I said it loud enough for the men around me to hear; of course I did. 

       But being ready for a fight is not the same as winning it and winning it is not the same as surviving the victory.  I was lost in thought wondering how many of them we’ll face if they come at us and how they’ll come? 
And what should Thomas and I do about George and the boys?

       “Are you and the boys ready to ride for Launceston if it becomes necessary, Thomas?”

                                     Chapter Five

       Our new camp is much better because now we are in position in an open space that backs up against a stand of trees.  The trees are close enough together such that mounted men can, for the most part, only come at us from the front. 

      
Either there are not many people living hereabouts in Devon or the Courtenay lord is mean and watching closely, otherwise the forest would have been thinned for firewood.

       That we had to move over here from our original camp to improve our position is quite embarrassing for me, as I admit in front of the boys with a bit of self-loathing to Thomas, Peter, and Henry. 

       “This is where we should have camped in the first place both because we’re supposed to be practicing war fighting and because we are in another shire and on someone else’s land that we know very little about.  I was very foolish when I told the men to set up across the way - I assumed we could camp anywhere and be safe because of our numbers.”

       “Oh, it’s not all bad,” Thomas replied.  In the moonlight and flickering light of our one and only candle lantern I could see his big grin aimed at all three of us and the overly generous gesture he made with his hands. 

       “Look at it this way, William - you’ve given me a perfect example to teach the boys about where not to camp and what not to do on a real campaign.” 

       Even I had to laugh along with Henry and my other two lieutenants – and hearing us all roar with laughter seemed to please the boys and the men nearby though I don’t know why.

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       We’re as ready as we can be as the first early signs of dawn begin to lighten up our position.  Our limited supply of caltrops have been scattered, our stakes hammered in and resharpened, all of our horses are tied to trees along a path in the forest behind us, and the wagons are lined up close together to fill a gap through which mounted knights might otherwise ride.

       Our supplies and horsemen are ready too - the arrow bales have been opened and the extra arrows distributed; and Raymond’s Horse Marines and almost all of his outriders are in our ranks with their horses tied in the trees behind us.