Chapter 31: Archeress

(Robin of Oaklea narrates)

At the foot of the hill rising up to the church, we halt and the Friars dismount and start tying thick woollen socks on the legs of each horse.

“So we can approach quietly,” Brother Canon Friar Ranulf explains, “the element of surprise is worth more than the element of gold.”

I have to agree.

We remount and trot slowly up the hill wary of discovery. At the top of the hill, Ranulf dismounts again and he and I, joined immediately by Lady Elinor (who could stop her?), crouch down and go on foot to the brow of the hill and peer down on what is happening in my village.

Laid out in front of us are about thirty dismounted soldiers and their horses, about two hundred paces from us. In the garden on the right behind the inn are about thirty archers, being faced with another thirty archers standing between the woods and the leet.

Turning back to what is immediately in front of us, I can see that in front of the dismounted troops, by about ten paces, is a lone man in a cloak. He is clearly my father, Will Archer, armed with a longbow and arrow pointing at a man who is holding Alwen down on a wooden block, with a knife at her throat. From my high vantage point, I can see that he is the Count. It would be a highly difficult shot, some 500 paces away, but a lofted arrow, could take him out without hitting Alwen. Question is, would I be confident in hitting him and missing Alwen? No, in my nervous state, I am not.

There are two grisly bodies close to Alwen, one looked like an executioner I remember seeing a drawing sometime, maybe at Sunday school, and the other was wearing a tunic like the one that the Inn Steward Stephen would wear on a workday.

I look at Lady Elinor, she is keenly taking in the whole scene. Ranulf touches my arm and indicates that we move back. We do so, walking backwards, watching for any sign they have seen us. I now see there are more Black Friars by the bridge in front of the Manor House. Looking again, I see that they are actually armoured Knights, better equipped for all-out war even than we are. The Augustinian Friars are suited for riding in quickly and joining the enemy in hand on hand combat, we certainly couldn’t live through a hail of arrows sent with any degree of determination to stop us, but the Knights, yes, they could withstand a hastily mounted volley or two.

Back at the horses, I say, “Lord Wellock is in charge of these men, I recognise his voice and heard him talking to my father.”

“They are the traitors,” Ranulf says, “I think we can take the men at arms in front of us out of the fight easily. Having the drop on them, they would be surprised and most would surrender immediately, knowing we had the upper hand. What worries me though are the archers on the right, they appear to be of two separate factions. But which is which?”

“The ones nearest the woods are on our side, I recognised some of the townsfolk. They have been trained by my father. He’s the lone man with the longbow, about ten yards ahead of the group in front of us.”

“I wondered if that is who he was,” grins Lady Elinor, “does he enjoy taking on impossible odds or is he just suicidal?”

“There’s no such thing as impossible odds when it comes to my father and his love for Alwen, and I suppose the feeling is mutual.”

“So, do you think your mother and father are mad or normal?”

“Oh, he’s mad, completely mad where Alwen is concerned, but in our family this is considered quite normal.”

She laughs.

“I don’t know who the men in black—” I started.

“They’re ours!” both Ranulf and Lady Elinor said together. Ranulf nods to Lady Elinor in deference, who continues alone. “The Knights in black are definitely on our side.”

“How?”

“Because I know, is my word good enough, Robin?”

“Yes.”

“Then mount up,” says Ranulf, “Let’s end this now.”

We ride at a walk, slowly over the brow of the hill, those with well-oiled swords remove them silently from their scabbards, ready for use. The horses’ hooves are still blanketed by the thick woollen socks, making our approach silent. Both Lady Elinor and I have fully loaded and drawn longbows. In no time we are immediately behind them.

Not having swords, Lady Elinor and I drift to the right, to keep out of the way and have a clear field of vision, with our bows ready to release our darts should they be needed. I remain on her left, between her and Wellock’s traitors.

The ragtag army assembled on the hill, give in almost without a fight in the confusion. Those on foot near the inn, though, draw swords and run towards the Clerics.

Next to me, Lady Elinor looses off her arrow, which whizzes past my father and hits the flighted arrow my father has just released, knocking it off target, enough so both whizz safely by The Count being no more harmful than a cool breeze.

The Count recovers his wits, grabbing Alwen and his knife. In front him, my father already has another arrow nocked and ready to fire. Next to me the Lady Elinor is a little slower and is still lining up her arrow.

“I think they are here to support me,” comes from the Count, crouching low behind Alwen, sawing at her bonds with his knife, “and you too, Sir William, if you truly are still with the King.”