Chapter 3

The skirmish was hardly worth being called a battle, of course, as it took less than an hour, by my reckoning, to seize the town hall and the houses of the local magnates. Said magnates were not hard to notice, from the aldermen to the town magistrate to the mayor. They were also not hard to impress with the seriousness of my claims of authority and power, as I wore the amulet over a monk’s robe and at least some of them probably believed my claim to be a defrocked friar.

“So, this is what you will do. Swear fealty to me, and to my new government, and in exchange, I shall let you live and keep your sinecures. Are we clear? I will have your allegiance! Kneel! Bend the knee!”

I emulated Daenerys Targaryen and Stannis Baratheon on purpose with some of my rhetoric, but that was handy enough.

“But ... what shall we call you, then? What name, what title?” the mayor asked, preparing to bend the knee.

At that moment, I knew that I must embrace a public regnal name or else muddle things dangerously. I didn’t wish to chance it, so I cast off the “Brother Aedan” alias forever. I had to sound properly Norman to frighten other Anglo-Norman barons, so here it went. Even if Norman French had fallen increasingly into disuse, the Norman heritage remained a sign of nobler blood at least among the elite in England, Wales, and Cornwall, put it mildly. I couldn’t be taken seriously as simply a defrocked Cornish friar. I had to act and now, as I did in taking the town in the first place.

“I used the name of ‘Brother Aedan,’ but my true name is Robert Bouchard of Hereford, and I’ve made an enemy of Adam Orleton, the bishop there. He is my adversary and I shall bring him low. But first, acclaim me, Robert Bouchard, Duke of Cornwall. Cornwall shall not submit to the rule of such corrupt men as Roger Mortimer! I do believe that I am the first such to be called ‘Duke of Cornwall’ instead of simply ‘Earl,’ am I not? So be it. That is my claim and I stake it now. Kneel and acclaim me as your Duke! Your fealty is to me, not to that She-Wolf of France and her son. Certainly not to that craven King Edward the Second!” I roared and the notables all knelt before me.

“It is as you wish, my dread lord. We shall hear and obey. What is your pleasure?” the mayor now inquired of me.

“I wish that every man who can bear arms assemble here at dusk, as suitably armed and armored as possible. We’re going to raid something! Also, present all of the taxes to me. I wish to see the contents of my ducal coffers,” I demanded imperiously.

I began to grow used to my new role already.

“Indeed, sire, it shall be done!”

The mayor quivered visibly as he hustled to comply with my whims.

It was good to be Duke, that much was clear, I thought. I then inspected the smithy and the tanner’s shop, to get myself a fine armor made of leather and mail, followed by a helm, a shield of steel and wood, a long spear, a warhammer (wishing to emulate Robert Baratheon), and a sword. I was soon well-armored, but not too heavily. I wished to avoid the cumbersome plate armor preferred in the late Middle Ages, which could apparently immobilize a man. The mail and leather were enough of a burden on me as it was. I need some mobility and speed, too, after all.

“Now, I just need a war horse, of course. The Duke should be a mounted warrior. Frankly, I think that being mounted will give us all the kind of swiftness we need for this campaign. My first, elite troops shall be light, not heavy, horse. Moving with incredible haste through the countryside, striking terror into the hearts of our foes. Wouldn’t you agree to this?” I insisted.

I got a clear nod from an already frightened mayor.

“May I ride with you, sire?” Kenal inquired, earning a smile.

“If Derwa can take your place in the shop, with Mellyn’s aid. Guaedret and Treave shall accompany me as well. Loyal companions, my chief squires and retainers, to say the least. Now, kneel, so that I may knight thee, and then I shall have thee take armor,” I commanded the three Cornish peasants.

They were only too happy to become knights of my new realm.

“In the name of Heaven, I give you the right to bear arms and mete justice. I dub thee Sir Kenneth, Sir Godfrey, and Sir Trevor. Those are your new names. Forget your past ones as peasants. Forget your old lives as smallfolk, commoners. You are knights now, vassals in service to your lord, the Duke of Cornwall,” I liberally borrowed from Excalibur and other films for guidance.

No one minded, least of all recent peasants too new to this to notice or care.

“Does this mark me a lady?” Derwa laughed softly, “I’ll still keep ye shops ... for now. Has to protect me town. And serve m’lord, of course.”

“As from this moment, not that it frees you from the smithy and tanner work until we can replace you. Still, you are, in fact, Lady Desiree of the newly christened town of Resmen, named for your brother. Mellyn is now Lady Melanie, just because I will it. Delen is now Lady Denise. Resmen is now posthumously declared a knight as well. Sir Richard of Resmen. Cenmin is now of noble birth and is called Cecil from this day forward. Now, take Cecil with you, as we have more work to do, work not fit for his innocent eyes, the bairn,” I decreed.

The newly minted ladies grinned at the thought of their exaltation and carried the boy out of my presence.

As soon as the men were assembled, and the coffers inspected (not nearly full enough to my taste, but that was a given due to the abject poverty of the town), I rode out to harangue my new troops. They were a rather motley assemblage, more of a war band than an army, but they would have to do for a start. Some had spears, some daggers, others their axes, hammers, spades, and the like. Most were on foot for now, but several were mounted as I wished. I sighed and told myself that when possible, I’d have the lot train in the equestrian arts to turn them into swift, light cavalry. We had a war to fight and speed would be one of my principal weapons, along with surprise.

“Men of Resmen, for that is the name of this town now, I am your lord and master, Robert Bouchard, Duke of Cornwall! I call upon you to follow me now and do my bidding. Join me in a raid that will make your mark, ours, in fact, in history! This, friends, is just the beginning of our great adventure, and we shall make all of Britain fear us! It is time to attack the Priory of St. Nicholas, bringing the monks there to heel. Once they’ve yielded, we will seize the city of Exeter itself! I hear that it has spring water and we will have some of that for us, along with the fealty of the town and the city fathers. From there, we will make all of Cornwall and Devonshire yield to us!” I commanded.