Lord Edward's Archer Read online

  In an instant I had an arrow nocked, and I aimed it at Hugh. “One step towards me, Captain, and you will die!”

  He shook his head sadly as he backed away. He had seen me at work and knew my skill. “I had high hopes for you.”

  “Back off, Captain, and you too, Ralph. Lower your swords to the ground, or by God I will end your lives here and now. You know I can do so.”

  They complied.

  Sir Henry drew his sword. “Am I surrounded by cowards? I will end your wretched life myself.” I loosed one arrow and it went through his leg and into the ground. He squealed like a stuck pig. He could not move without tearing the arrow out. “You will die for this!”

  I had another arrow ready. I saw his squire and the two knights reaching for their swords. “If you wish to die, then draw your swords. On your knees and you shall live. I have twenty arrows, and I am the fastest archer in this castle.” The squire hesitated, and my arrow smacked into his left arm. I had another nocked before the scream had died. I began to back towards my horse. I think that Sir Henry thought he was going to live. He was not.

  “Sir Henry, you are a coward. You let others fight for you. You are ungrateful and do not deserve the men who follow you. I swore an oath to fight for you so long as you live. I am no oath breaker. My oath ends now!”

  I do not think any expected what I did. My arrow struck the knight between the eyes. He died instantly. I was already leaping onto the back of my horse as Hugh of Rhuddlan shouted, “Close the gates!”

  It was too late. Alf and John were old and slow. As I galloped over the wooden bridge they hurled themselves into the dry ditch to save being trampled. As I rode towards the wood and my hidden pony, I wondered just how long I would survive. I had cast the bones. I was now an outlaw.

  Chapter 3

  I knew I would be pursued. There were horses ready, but those horses belonged to the two knights. Hugh and Ralph would never dare ride his lordship’s horse. They would have to saddle their mounts and then follow me. Hugh and Ralph might have caught me. The knights would not. I had time. I did not thrash my horse. I knew that the two knights would. They would be affronted by the audacity of an archer slaying one of their own. I was a peasant and they were nobility. The road which led to the forest was straight for a mile or so. I turned in the saddle and saw them hurtling after me. Neither was wearing mail. They were equipped for hunting. They had boar spears and swords. I recognised both of them. One was Sir William Fitz Mortimer, and the other, his younger brother, Sir Richard Fitz Mortimer. Both were wastrels who just spent their days hunting, drinking and carousing with Sir Henry. I had taken away their livelihood. They would seek vengeance.

  Once the road turned, I stopped and dismounted. I tied the horse to a tree and drew two arrows. I could hear their horses and I drew my bow. As Sir William rounded the bend I sent an arrow deliberately into his leg. It went through and into the horse. The horse fell and knocked over Sir Richard. I saw his head strike the ground hard as he crashed to it. He did not move. I replaced the arrow and mounted my horse. I tore through some nearby branches and made my horse turn before diving into the forest. As soon as I found the path I joined it and rode more carefully. Ralph was a good tracker. I wanted him to follow me into the forest. I knew this forest well. There was an area of stone not far from the path. When I reached it I rode my horse along it, and then took him back through the forest. I avoided breaking branches. They would find my trail, but by then I would be long gone. Of course, if they knew me well, they would ignore the trail through the forest and they would be waiting on the road where I had left the pony. Then I would be hanged!

  I reached my pony and saw no one. Leading the animal, I galloped down the road. I needed to put as much distance between myself and my pursuers as possible. I planned on heading for Delamere forest. It was known as a refuge for outlaws and even Sir Ranulf was wary of entering. That was a good thirty-five miles away. I could not reach it in one journey. If I tried, I risked losing one of my animals. In a perfect world I needed all three animals. That way, I could have changed horses and outrun pursuit. Had I been on foot I would have been as good as dead. I planned on reaching the Dee by nightfall and hiding in the woods that lay along the river. I would swim the horses across just before dawn. From the River Dee it was just ten miles to the distant forest.

  However, I had two problems. One was Chester and Sir Ranulf. The other was Congleton and the powerful baron, Sir Roger de Lacy. I had to cross the river between the boundaries of their estates.

  I left the road just before it crossed the River Alyn and I swam my horse and pony. It was a narrow river, but it showed me that they could swim. I then made my way through an unknown wooded area. I was many miles from my home. I relied on the skills my father had given me. I used the sun and the moss to guide me as near to north and west as I could get. Each time I smelled woodsmoke I took a detour. I wanted to avoid people. It was not that they might harm me, but they would be able to identify me. I wanted to disappear. I knew that I had committed a crime. It would be called murder. I called it justice. I called it an eye for an eye, but I was just an archer. I had no powerful lord to support me. I would have to leave England, but first I had to find sanctuary.

  It was getting on for dusk. I wanted to find the river before darkness fell. It was my horse and pony who found it. Their ears pricked up and they hurried to get to the water. I dismounted and walked them, for I knew that the Dee had ships which used it. I was still trying to remain hidden. The bank was overgrown. There was no path, and that suited me for it meant that I would not be disturbed. I let my animals drink and I filled my water skin. I led them away from the river and found a bower where willows overhung the river and wild hawthorn and elder trees screened us. I risked no fire. I hobbled the animals where they were grazing. I sliced some hunks off the venison and grabbed handfuls of the sour elderberries. I spied a bramble bush and found some ripe blackberries. It was hardly a feast, but it would keep me going. By the time I had eaten and drunk it was pitch black. Darkness was my friend. I had not slept the night before and I was exhausted. I was asleep almost instantly.

  Archers know when to wake up. I know not why. Perhaps because we are in the woods so much that we are like the animals, and nature courses through our veins. Whatever the reason I woke before dawn. It was not long off sunrise and I saddled the horse and pony and led them to the river. When I had looked the previous night, it had appeared to be about thirty paces across. The Alyn had been barely eight paces. This was a faster river, and wider. I held onto the pony’s reins and led the horse to the river. We walked in. I allowed them to drink while I slipped my hand under the saddle of the horse. I clicked my tongue and they both walked into deeper water. We made it easily to about a third of the way across. Then they began swimming. As I had expected we were taken downstream. I was a strong youth and I held the pony’s reins tightly. The horse was a strong swimmer and the pony a game one. When their hooves touched the river bed we were just eight paces from the shore. I took my hand from beneath the saddle and grabbed the reins. I was across the Dee.

  After tightening the horse’s girths, I mounted him and began to ride, as the sun rose in the sky, north-west towards the forest. I saw it as it spread out ahead of me. It was ten miles away, and yet it seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon. Once again I was entering unknown territory. There was no assurance that the bandits and outlaws would accept me as one of their own. Every man would be my enemy. It was a daunting prospect.

  I halted half a mile or so from the forest. I saw a road enter the trees. That would not be the route I would take. I turned my horse to the north and rode across a recently harvested field. If there was a farmer nearby and he saw me, then so be it. I was close to my destination. If he reported it then it would not change my circumstance. I would lie low in the forest for a couple of days and then I would head east.

  As I neared the forest, I saw that its eaves had fewer trees than deeper within. I spied a stream coming
from the woodland. It was heading towards the Dee and I decided to follow the other way towards the forest. It did not look deep and would be a safe, if noisy, way to enter the hideout of the brigands. Within a few hundred paces the light disappeared and the forest became a gloomy and threatening place. The trees all strove for height and I saw that the ground was free of obstacles. I clambered from the stream. I stopped frequently, and I listened. There were no animal noises. That meant I was being watched and probably tracked. It was always easier to track someone than discover where your trackers were.

  I saw a lighter part of the forest and I headed for it. When I reached it I dismounted and, standing between the pony and the horse, shouted, “I seek sanctuary with the bandits of Delamere Forest. I am an archer, and I have skills. I would talk with your leader.” It felt foolish to be shouting thus, but I knew that there were men around. I could feel their presence. I allowed the horse and pony to graze, for there was a little grass, and I drank from my water skin. It seemed an age, and then I sensed movement. I hung the skin from the saddle and looked into the forest. I saw a pair of eyes peering between two branches. I scanned the trees and saw at least four others.

  I stepped from between the animals and laughed. “Are you so afraid of one archer that you have to hide in the trees? I have yet to reach for my bow.”

  A man as tall as I was stepped out. He had a bow in his hand. He wore a leather jerkin studded with iron. He must have once been a warrior. He smiled at me. “We were just wondering if you had a death wish to enter the forest of Delamere. Few men do so and live. What makes you think that you will be welcome here? The forest is a harsh place to live.”

  I now saw that there were five men. It was hardly a huge band. I had been led to believe that the forest teemed with bandits.

  “Perhaps I had no choice. In truth, I am passing through. My friend went to fight in France and I am following him.”

  “And you chose this route because you have committed a crime.”

  I hesitated. If I told them, they might turn me in.

  “Come, friend, I like you. You have courage, do not turn that to something else. You wish us to trust you, then trust us.”

  “I killed my lord, for he blinded and hanged my father.”

  “And who was your father?”

  “Gerald ap Llewellyn.”

  “The archer? I thought him dead years ago.”

  “You knew him?”

  “I knew of him. I served the Earl of Derby, we campaigned against the Welsh together. I heard he was a fine archer. You slew your lord?”

  “Baron Henry of Clwyd.”

  “I know not the name. It seems that you have all the qualifications you need to join us, save one.”

  “And that is?”

  “The price of membership. The horse.”

  I shook my head. “I need the horse to get to the east. That is too high a price.”

  “You have courage, for we could kill you and take them both.”

  “You could, but in doing so, at least two of you would die and your band would be even smaller.”

  He laughed. “Better and better. The pony then.”

  I put my hand out. “My pony it is!”

  “I am Roger of Talacre.”

  There was the slightest hesitation, and then I said, “And I am Gerald War Bow.”

  “Which is not your name, of course, but it is good that you honour your father by taking his name. Come, let us go to our camp.” He took the pony’s reins. “If you killed a knight then they will not rest until they have you. I know that the Clwyd is forty or so miles away but they will seek you out.”

  “By that time I will be gone, and you can tell them where I have gone. Once I am on the other side of the mountains they will never find me.”

  “You are confident for one so young. I look forward to talking to you. Do you have food?”

  “Salted venison.”

  “Good.”

  This was not what I had expected. I had expected larger numbers who hunted where they chose and ate well. I was glad I was not staying long. They led me to a dell. It was well chosen. The trees hid it until the last moment and then it was revealed. There was a pond or small lake, and I saw that they had a sort of vegetable plot. There were eight lean-to huts. I looked at Roger of Talacre questioningly. He shrugged. “Men come and men go. This life is not for all men.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Those three to the left are empty. Choose one. Wilfred of Eaton farts when he sleeps. I would choose one at the end, away from him.”

  I nodded and led my horse towards the last dwelling. I unpacked the horse and then returned to unpack the pony. Roger of Talacre helped me unload my arrows. “You are a true archer. These are well-fletched arrows.”

  “These were my father’s. Mine had red flights, but you are right. I know arrows. I am not boasting; I am a good archer.”

  Roger nodded and leaned in to me. “I know. Your arms and your chest speak as much. The others are bandits. You and I are the archers. It is why you live.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “You would have slain me?”

  “For a horse and a pony? In an instant and without even thinking, but I saw that you kept your bows in canvas sheaths. I saw your arms and knew that you were an archer. I told the others to refrain from slaying you.”

  “You know that at the first flight I would have drawn my bow and three, at least, would have died.”

  He laughed, albeit quietly. “That, too, influenced my judgement.” He put his arm around my shoulders. It was not an easy task. “Come, I have a feeling that you have been sent here for a purpose. I fear that you bring doom and destruction upon us. I will live with that. Your salted venison will be the best food we have had in a while. Where is it?”

  I took it from my saddlebag.

  “This will feed us tonight, and, with greens and some of the beans we grow, will give us soup for two more days.”

  This was not the paradise I had expected. It seemed I was their saviour and not the other way around. As I took the venison to the pot of water I noticed seven mounds. One had freshly turned earth. “What are they?”

  “Our dead. The last was Will Green Legs. He was the leader of the men of Delamere. We were hunted by knights from Chester, some two moons since. We lost four men, captured or killed. Will had a wound we thought had healed, but it had not. He wasted away from inside and died eight days ago. Two others left to find somewhere easier to live.”

  “It is not what I expected.” I hacked the meat from the bone.

  “No one chooses the life of an outlaw. All of us here suffered because of some lord or other. This is our punishment. This is our prison.”

  I dropped the bone into the water. “Then I shall leave sooner rather than later.”

  “I thought you might.”

  “What is your story?”

  The other four had been gathering greens and they began dividing them out onto four rough wooden platters. I did the same with the venison. What might have lasted me a few days would now be gone in one night. We sat by the fire on a hewn log.

  “Not as noble as yours, I am afraid. As I said, I served the Earl of Derby as a man at arms. I quarrelled with the sergeant at arms. It was over a woman. She was his and I thought she preferred me. It came to blows and should have ended there, but he pulled a knife, as did I. I was stronger and he died. I fled for my life. That was seven moons ago. I reached here after forty days and nights of hiding and stealing. I should have headed to Sherwood. There they are more organised, but this was closer.”

  “Why do you not hunt?”

  He pointed to my bows. “We are not archers. Oh, we can draw a hunting bow, but we are poor fletchers. When we do hunt we have to keep an ear out for the men of his lordship. Two months ago we hunted a fine stag. It would have lasted a long time. We brought it down, and before we could even begin to gut it, riders disturbed us, and we disappeared into the forest.”

  “Then before I lea
ve I will hunt with you. I will need food for my journey and a forest this size must teem with game.”

  I heard the others’ stories as we ate what was, for them, a feast. I examined them as we talked. They were all emaciated. James, son of John, had been whipped for failing to attend church. He had waited until dark and slit the throat of the man who had whipped him. Will Three Fingers had been a farmer. When he had lost two fingers and was unable to work his fields, the lord of the manor had taken his land and given it to another. Iago of Pwellhi had killed a man in Gwynedd. That was all he would say. The last, Peter of Euxton, was also the youngest. His family had died of the plague. He had survived, but the other villagers had burned his home and driven him hence. All their stories were sad, as were their mean lives. It made me all the more determined to find Harry and join him. Living outside the law was no life at all.

  The next morning I strung my bow and took some of my father’s hunting arrows. Roger of Talacre and the others might not be good at hunting, but they had lived in the forest long enough to know where the animals were to be found. I used them as beaters. I waited downwind and sent the five of them upwind to drive the herd of deer towards me. I readied my bow. I had two more arrows held next to my bow, and as I heard the thunder of hooves, I drew back. I could smell them as they approached. There were eight in the herd. I ignored the stag. A good hunter did not take the leader. He would sire more young animals. Instead I aimed at the older doe, which ran close to him. My arrow struck her chest and I switched to one at the rear of the herd. It appeared to be tiring. My arrow struck its head and, at twenty paces, was driven deep into her skull to kill her instantly.

  Roger had had the men prepare sharpened stakes. They ran up and rammed one through the deer which lay close to me. I retrieved my arrow. I would not reuse it, but it would be good enough for the others once I had gone. I turned and ran after the herd. The first deer I had struck had struggled on for forty paces. I knelt and put her out of her pain. I took out my arrow. Will and Iago brought the stake and, after they had the deer secured, picked it up.