El Campeador Read online

  El Campeador

  Book 2

  in the

  Reconquista Chronicles Series

  By

  Griff Hosker

  Published by Sword Books Ltd 2019

  Copyright ©Griff Hosker First Edition 2020

  The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  Historical Characters

  King Ferdinand of Castile, León and Aragon (1015-1065)

  King García Sánchez III of Pamplona, King of Navarre, King Ferdinand’s half-brother (1015-1054)

  King Sancho Garces IV of Navarre (1039-1076)

  Sancho, later King of Castile, son of King Ferdinand (1038-1072)

  Alfonso, later King of Aragon and Castile, son of King Ferdinand (1040-1109)

  Garcia, later King of Galicia, son of King Ferdinand (1041-1090)

  King Ramiro of Aragon, King Ferdinand’s half-brother (1007-1063)

  King Sancho Ramírez of Aragon (1042-1094)

  Al-Muqtadir- Emir of Zaragoza

  Al-Ma’mun – Emir of Toledo

  Abd al-Malik – Emir of Valencia

  Al-Mu'tamid ibn Abbad-Emir of Sevilla

  Abu Bakr Muhammad ibn Abdallah al-Aftas- Emir of Badajoz

  Al-Mutawwakkil- Emir of Badajoz,

  Abd Allah-Emir of Granada

  Yusuf al-Mu'taman ibn Hud- King of Zaragoza

  Spain at the time the book is set

  Prologue

  I am neither a great lord nor even a noble, yet I count great lords and nobles as my friends, and I have been at the heart of great and momentous events. I was born to a sword for hire and a camp follower, but I moved in the highest of circles both Christian and Muslim. Despite that I never changed. Now I am in my twilight years I wish to record the events of the past. I still have two of the servants who followed me when I served El Cid in those glorious days after Graus and they are able jog my memory when something slips from my grasp. This tower in which I write down my fading memories is comforting with its solid walls and the sentries who patrol the fighting platform; I had built well. When I served Rodrigo de Vivar, El Campeador, we did not always have such comforting protection. The good quill with which I make my spidery scratchings is loaded with ink and I am ready to write once more. Who would have thought that the son of a mercenary who grew up illiterate would be able to write down the story of El Cid? I had much to be grateful to the greatest knight in Christendom.

  When Prince Sancho and El Campeador, the man the Moors came to call El Cid, won the battle of Graus and killed King Ramiro of Aragon then the future of Spain changed irrevocably and there would be no going back. Of course, we did not know so at the time. We were warriors and just happy that we had won and we were alive. The retribution we extracted meant that all, even Iago, Juan and Pedro, the swords for hire who followed my banner, were rich and I headed back to the manor I had recently bought, satisfied and in good spirits. Briviesca did not make me a knight but it gave me a home and it gave my foster mother, Maria, and my shield brothers a home and I loved it.

  I had been wounded at Graus and my collar bone had been broken. Such a wound was not incapacitating but it hurt and that made me bad-tempered. I had to ride home with my arm bandaged and I felt it and the grating pain each time the healing bone was jolted on the road. It was more than just the pain for in those days warriors bore pain and did not complain. It was the fact that my arm was in a sling and men constantly asked me what was wrong. I hated that! I wanted to be alone with my wound and to think of the battle we had just fought and the future which lay ahead of me. My men were in high spirits for Iago had killed the King of Aragon and Prince Sancho and the Emir of Zaragoza had rewarded him especially well. As we had ridden home, I had asked him if he wished a place of his own for he was a rich man. His answer had surprised me.

  “Will, you are a good luck charm. I would not have had this reward if you had left us with Don Diego. For good or ill our lives are bound with yours and we are all happy to follow you. I may take a wife and I may buy a home, but I will not leave your service for to do so would upset the natural balance. Just as you follow El Campeador, so we follow you.” He had shrugged, “I can explain my decision no better.”

  My Norse ancestors helped me to understand his answer for they believed in fate and the bond which lay hidden, but which tied warriors together tightly and I was glad. Maria, my foster mother, was pleased to see me home and she fussed over me until my shoulder was healed. To be truthful the wound helped me to plan my gyrus and training camp all the better. Prince Sancho had asked me to train a band of warriors whom he would hire when he needed to go to war. It was a new concept and I was happy to oblige for I enjoyed working with and developing young warriors. While my wound healed I was able to oversee the completion of my training ring, my gyrus and to use my newfound wealth to make my home better and stronger. The result was that in the year after Graus, I did not see much of Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, El Cid and El Campeador but that was because I was too busy obeying the orders of Prince Sancho of Castile. He was ambitious and saw himself as the King of a Christian Spain. He needed me and he needed the warriors I would train.

  Chapter 1

  My wound had meant that, when we first arrived back at my mountain lair, I could do little lifting. Maria, my foster mother, thought that this was a good thing as, even without the spurs, I was Lord of Briviesca and should not labour like the others. However, that was not my way and I knew that as soon as the bones had knitted, I would begin to work with the others for I was a warrior and I needed a strong body. The fact that I could not use my body forced me to use my mind. I had a gyrus to build and having seen the one at Lion’s Den I had a model in my head. I also knew that while we were at peace with Navarre, Bureba was a stronghold of the Navarrese and lay just five miles up the road. We needed strong defences too! Briviesca was smaller than Prince Sancho’s estate and the rocky nature of my home meant that the training circle I would build had to be smaller. I was glad when the hair which had burned at the battle of Graus began to grow again. My wound was invisible, but my burned beard, eyebrows and hair had upset Maria.

  As my men began to labour, one of the young men I had hired to help Maria, Sebastian, asked why we were wasting time on such an enclosure which took up a piece of flat land which could have been cultivated. I took the time to explain for he was a new man and did not know me yet.

  “I am no farmer, Sebastian, I am a warrior and I train others to fight. This will become the home of young men who wish to fight and to follow my banner and that of Prince Sancho when we go to war.”

  “I can see that, lord, but we could use this land for winter vegetables!”

  “True, but if we are raided, in summer or winter, we have here within our strong walls, a place where we can keep our animals and protect them.”

  The cattle raids from Navarre were a constant threat and, coming from farming stock himself, he could understand that. He returned to his work cheerfully.

  In my hall we all ate together; I neither knew nor wanted any other way. Maria had wondered, as I was used to dining with El Campeador and other nobles, if I wished to eat separately from the servants. I knew that she would prefer to eat together and when I had been in Graus that had been the arrangem
ent. I did not change it for I was comfortable eating with all of the people of my manor. The main difference was that I usually sat at one end with Iago, Juan, Pedro, Abu and Geoffrey while the women sat at the far end around Maria. It meant that the conversations never overlapped for we spoke of war, Prince Sancho, Rodrigo and the royal family, while they spoke of more domestic matters.

  We had been home for four months and my wound was healing well when a rider dropped a letter off for me. It was unusual for any to write to me as I had only learned to read a year or so earlier. No one else on the estate could read either for I had yet to find a priest. It was not an unnecessary expense for priests tended to have knowledge of healing and when I began training men then there would be injuries and wounds. Maria asked if I would open and read the letter while we ate. I was not sure if that was a good idea but they all seemed so excited about the reading of a letter that I acceded to their request. In truth, I was also excited as, when I had turned it over, I had recognised the seal of Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, El Campeador.

  Seated at the head of the table I took the jewelled dagger which Iago had given to me when I had left Vivar to begin my life with Prince Sancho. That seemed the event of a lifetime ago. There was a hushed air of expectancy as every eye was upon me and all listened for the crack as the wax seal was broken by the razor-sharp blade. I recognised Rodrigo’s hand. I could barely write, and I envied him the flowing strokes which mirrored his own elegant swordplay. I suppose that reflected my style of fighting for I battered my enemies into submission, much as I butchered the quill nib on the parchment. I could read much better now and I quickly scanned it to see if the content was suitable for my audience. It was and so I read aloud.

  My Most Loyal Friend, William,

  I hope that you are well and recovered from your wound which was most honourably earned. Know you that both you and your shield brothers’ names are spoken by all those here at Prince Sancho’s court with honour and respect. Don Iago, Álvar and the others send their best wishes to you and the other heroes of Graus.

  For my part Álvar and I continue to train our knights as you trained me and both Prince Sancho and his father, King Ferdinand, are pleased with the progress we have made.

  To that end, you and your shield brothers are invited to Lion’s Den for, whilst we know that you will not have had the time to train men to follow your banner, the Prince has need of you and your men. More, I have need of you for war comes and I need the mail in human form that is William Redbeard, the Hero of Salamanca. Make all speed to come to my side and be prepared for war.

  Your friend,

  Rodrigo de Vivar.

  There were differing reactions at the two ends of the table. Iago and my men were delighted as it meant more booty while Maria and the ladies were dismayed. The two young female servants, Anna and Isabella whom I had engaged, had taken a shine to Iago and Geoffrey. Maria had hopes of marriages and, perhaps, children for she was not only like a mother to me but also to Anna and Isabella who had followed her from Vivar. She, of all people, knew the dangers of war for it had taken Alfonso my foster father, the only man Maria had known, and left her without the love of her life and any children. We were her children. She had to know that this was what we did and the four months of peace we had had were a luxury. The remainder of the meal was spent in speculation amongst my men as to the destination. For me it was irrelevant, and I was thinking of what we would need to do. Geoffrey had begged to be trained as a warrior so that he could not only watch our horses but also protect them and he was now able to do so. He had mail and a short sword. Abu, who was my one-armed translator, could also fight. We would not be travelling light as all of my men had two horses whilst I had three. Copper was the horse I would ride on the road while Berber and Killer would be the two horses I would ride to war. Each had different skills and the choice of animal would depend upon the circumstances.

  After the table had been cleared, I sat alone before the fire for it was cold at night in the mountains north of Burgos. Iago and Geoffrey had sloped off with Anna and Isabella while the rest of my men had gone to prepare our war gear. Maria brought me a goblet of the especially strong wine we drank after a meal. It was too strong to drink during a meal but it helped me fall asleep and seemed to aid my digestion. She handed me the goblet and sat in the other chair. I knew she wished to talk and I said nothing but waited for her to begin. I drank from the goblet which was one of my finest. I would have been happy with pewter, but she thought that the Lord of Briviesca deserved better. I sipped the wine which always seemed to warm me from within and I waited for her to speak.

  “I know that war is your profession, William, and I know from Iago of your skill but I thought that when we came here you would just train warriors.”

  I nodded, “And the purpose of the warriors I would train is to fight for Prince Sancho.”

  “But each time you go to war then you are hurt! What if you are maimed, like Abu?”

  “Then, dear Maria, foster mother, you would have your dearest wish for I would not be able to go to war. Abu only comes with me because he insists so you see, your fears are groundless. If I am maimed, I will stay here and become a fat old landowner like the Lord of Bureda.”

  “And if you were killed?”

  “Then all of this would be yours!”

  She shook her head, “And I would swap it all for you whole and me living in poverty!”

  “And you know that we can never go back. Ask yourself what Alfonso would have said. What would my father, whom you knew better than I, have said?”

  I had her there and, defeated, she shook her head and rose, “The same as you! Men!” She came over and kissed me on the forehead, “You take care of yourself and your men, Will, for Anna and Isabella have set their eyes on Iago and Geoffrey. Iago is not a young man and deserves happiness.”

  “I know, mother, I know, and I have told him that he can have his own farm and retire for he has done all that is expected of him. One day he will but, for now, he still wishes to go to war.”

  Left alone I contemplated her words. She was right and I had a great responsibility. A man could not and should not run from his responsibilities, no matter how much he wished it so.

  Lion’s Den had changed little since I had left it to fight the King of Aragon. The main difference was that it was Rodrigo and Álvar who now trained the sons of nobles flocking there to be trained by the warrior known throughout Spain as El Campeador! I took pride in that for I had trained him first! We finally reached León in the late afternoon and it says much about Rodrigo and his strict regime that the young warriors were only just leaving the gyrus. Rodrigo and Álvar, his cousin and closest friend, were watching them leave and saw us arrive. They rushed to greet us for my men and I had been with Rodrigo since he had been a child. We were, now, his family.

  “You came promptly!”

  I nodded as I clasped Rodrigo’s arm, “You asked me to hurry and I came. I am sorry I have not had time to begin recruiting the men I promised the Prince.”

  He shook his head, “You were wounded and, as I am discovering, it takes time to find and to mould the raw clay into fine pots. Fire them too quickly and they will break and shatter!”

  Álvar nodded, “Besides, it is you and your men that we need for the King goes to take Coimbra and the warriors there will remember you on the walls of Salamanca. El Campeador has a well-deserved reputation but the hero of Salamanca is no less famous in the most western of the taifa. King Ferdinand is no fool and he knows the value of a name. The Emir of Zaragoza never ceases of singing your praises and those of Iago, the king slayer.”

  Iago shook his head, “Do not remind me, lord, I still wake up wondering what riches and ransom I might have received if I had merely captured him.”

  I shook my head, “You were well rewarded! That was a groaning chest you were given.”

  He grinned, “I know, Will, but I can think of what might have been!”

  Rodrigo asked me, “And ho
w is the wound?”

  “The Emir’s healer was a good man. He not only eased my pain with draughts and potions he also told me how to make myself stronger. He advised me to build up my shoulder muscles to help make my body more resilient to such wounds. I have worked hard at the pel for the past two months and I feel more powerful than ever.”

  Iago nodded, “As my shield brothers and I can testify for he can almost break a man’s arm with a single blow now!”

  “Good, for I will need my right hand soon!”

  I did not stay with my warriors as I was housed with the knights. It felt strange to be parted from Iago and the others but they were quite happy to do so. I knew why. They were in the hall with the young nobles and the rich young men would have full purses and Iago, Juan and Pedro knew many games which would relieve them of some of their money. It would be part of their learning process. I had brought with me the silken garment which Prince Sancho had given to me for saving his life at the battle of Atapuerca. Hitherto, I had found little opportunity to wear it and now seemed appropriate. When I entered the dining hall, a little late for I was unused to dressing formally, I was applauded and cheered which made me colour. I did not think I had done anything special but Rodrigo told me that I was held in high esteem by all of the knights. Don Iago of Astorga and the other young knights who had followed me at Salamanca would never forget what I had done that day for it had earned them their spurs. I had trained many of them and they respected me.

  The talk around the table was, inevitably, of war and the coming campaign. Our scouring of the land south of Coimbra had made Coimbra weaker and King Ferdinand had decided the time was ripe, with the north and east of his lands secured, to make the south and west equally secure. He wanted taifa tribute from Badajoz for a full treasury was power in the land of al-Andalus. We would not try to take the whole taifa but if we could make the border the River Mondego then we could, eventually, take Badajoz. I did not relish a siege for Salamanca, whilst it had made my name, it had also cost me the lives of two of the warriors who had been responsible for making me the Hero of Salamanca, Alfonso and Ramon. I knew the dangers better than anyone.