Chapter 3

It was quite a relief when dinner was announced, and everyone was led to the formal dining room. Charles located me and steered me to a seat near the King. I actually recognized the man seated next to me, Baron Parr of Kendal, one of the two baronies of Westmoreland, and he had been one of the visitors the Earl had taken hunting last spring.

“You looked surprised at the ceremony,” he teased.

“I was, all I expected was to swear an oath of fealty to the King,” I answered. We talked throughout supper. It turns out that, like the Baron and me, his younger son was on the tall side, wasn’t adept with a sword, but had developed an affinity for and some expertise with the longbow. Towards the end of supper, he asked if I would consider taking his son as my squire. I admitted that I knew nothing of the requirements of the Knight-squire relationship but would find out and get back to him very soon. I also asked if he could recommend some graceful way to let everyone know I already had a first wife.

“Indeed, I do,” he answered, smiling.

“By the way, I understand you and your wife are expecting your first child soon,” he commented a little louder than we’d been talking before. I noticed odd looks from several people nearby at the pronouncement.

“Thank you,” I mouthed, and he grinned conspiratorially.

After supper, there was entertainment as the guests milled around talking. I quickly became bored listening to nobles talking seemingly just to hear themselves talk, found a quiet corner with a chair, and sat down, getting off my feet to help alleviate the throbbing from my wound.

“Are my gatherings so boring?”

I was jolted awake when I realized it was the King asking me the question and tried to stand up to apologize when he started laughing and pulled me back down into the chair. “Don’t worry; I’ve also been known to fall asleep before. Listening to people boasting about what they know, who they know, or what they’ve done recently gets rather tedious. Besides, I’m sure you are usually asleep by this time,” he consoled.

“You are right; I even fell asleep on my horse last night. Somehow, I managed to stay upright, and he continued on right to the gates of London,” I admitted. After laughing with me, the King suggested that I retire to my room and sleep. After all, I was still recovering from my wound.

I thanked him, excused myself with an appropriate bow, and did as he suggested. After checking and binding my wound, I fell asleep immediately.

Uncharacteristically, I slept late the next morning until Gregory woke me, suggesting that I might want to get up, so I didn’t miss breakfast. There was a set of new clothing waiting for me, a nicely matched pair of green pants and shirt set. My weapons were stored neatly on the wall by the door.

Most of the rest of the morning was uneventful. I managed to talk to several members of the Palace Guard about the responsibilities of having a squire. Finally satisfied that I knew what was expected of me, I sought out Baron Parr and agreed to have his son Jack as my squire. A short time later, the wide-eyed, grinning young man, not that I was much older, was carrying his belongings into my room.

Before lunch, my presence was requested at a planning meeting. It was decided that we would leave London tomorrow with two hundred mounted archers and twenty-five mounted cavalry, picking up more troops as we went north, ending up with fifteen hundred mounted archers and five hundred mounted cavalry. Fifty archers had already left this morning with four wagons full of arrows. After minor revisions and additions, my plan was agreed upon, and four expert hunters would accompany us in case we were able to sneak into some of the Baronies and assassinate the rebellion’s leaders.

I remembered to ask about the disposition of the families of the men involved in the attack on the Earl and in the plot to overthrow the King. “What do you propose?” the King asked.

“I propose that any found not to have knowledge of the plot or attack should spend the rest of their lives as slaves. Any children born to them while they are in slavery will become serfs when they come of age. Any family members who helped with or were in agreement with the plot or the attacks should be executed. Any we’re not sure of should be imprisoned for up to six months. If we come to believe in their innocence in that time, they would become slaves. Any that fail to convince us of their innocence would face execution.”

“And whom would you have make such a determination?” he asked.

“They could plead their case to Your Highness, one of your advisors, or a Bishop of your choosing,” I suggested. He looked at me while considering my suggestion. “As Earl of Lancashire, I appoint you to make the determinations for family members of anyone in Lancashire and for the family members of the men actually involved in the attack on Earl Fitzmoreland. Those you find eligible will spend their lives as your personal slaves. For the rest I will appoint someone to make the determinations and they will become personal slaves for the next Duke of York.” Stunned yet grateful that he would let me determine the fates of the family members, I thanked him.

Personal slaves differed from regular slaves in that they could not be sold or given away. This designation was usually given to someone who had grievously wronged the person who became their owner. Female personal slaves were also required to have sex with their male owner, and those who were able were required to bear children for their owner.

He also gave me back the £1,000 destined to be the dowry for the Earl’s daughter, and the £400 I took from the Duke of York’s men. “The gold and jewels were meant to fight the rebellion. If all goes well, they will also be returned. The dowry was the personal property of Earl Fitzmoreland. As he has no remaining heirs and you are assuming control of his property, these now belong to you. The other you earned rightly by taking it away from the Duke’s men,” he explained. Once again, I was stunned, barely managing to squeak out a thank you.

After lunch, I took some of the money and headed for London with Gregory and Jack in tow. My first stop was the shop of the man who made the silk bowstring currently on my bow. The strings were ten times as expensive as the hemp ones since silk was more expensive and the strings took slightly longer to make, but I bought his entire inventory of just over two hundred strings and consigned for five hundred more. He looked at me as if I was crazy until I produced the money to pay for them and to have them delivered. It would take a month to make them all, and he would deliver them to the Manor House in Lancaster when they were finished.

The Manor House. I hadn’t really even thought about it yet. We’d be living in the Manor House with servants to help. I wasn’t looking forward to having to tell my mother and sister that my father was dead, but at least I’d be able to provide for them. I knew my mother would insist that she and my sister continue to work, and so would Margaret. Like me, they would have a difficult time transitioning from the life of a full day of physical labor every day to the life of a noble.

I asked Jack to deliver twenty-six of the silk strings to Captain Weber, the man who would technically be in charge of the troops, a voice of experience to help temper my youth and enthusiasm. One was for the Captain, and the other twenty-five were for him to distribute to the twenty-five best archers going with us. I wanted them to practice with the new strings this afternoon and get used to the increased range. I also added a string for Jack to use on his bow suggesting that he get in some practice if he could. I knew the archers would keep the butts busy most of the rest of the day.

Next, we headed towards the waterfront where the blacksmiths were. The first three were too busy today, but the fourth was willing to put aside what he was working on to make me six grappling hooks, then deliver them to the north gate at Kensington before dawn tomorrow. Each hook was to have enough rope attached that it would have a knot every foot along the length and would be fifty feet long when done. Then I bought his entire inventory of small chain to be used as a sort of necklace for the male slaves. All personal slaves had to be either branded or chained around the neck, so it was easy to tell who they were. This would meet the legal requirement without being a constant embarrassment to the wearer.

The bowyer I visited was eager to make me another seven-foot longbow. He didn’t get much call for them quite so big, and had a bowstave he’d been saving. He also suggested a bow made from wild elm like the ones the Welsh made if I was a serious archer. Gregory tried to stifle a chortle and failed. “Begging your pardon, but Earl Miller put ten arrows in a row into the chest of a target at 450 yards in front of the King yesterday,” he explained.

“You’re the archer I heard about?” he gasped. I nodded, and suddenly he became very businesslike.

He offered to let me try a six-and-a half-foot wild elm bow and took me to the butts outside. It took a few arrows to get used to the uneven feel of the bow, but I could feel that it was more powerful, even if it didn’t look as nice as a yew bow. The wood was lumpy and rough, as they had followed the grain of the wood to make the strongest bow possible. I quickly ordered four new bows, one from the traditional yew and one from wild elm for me, both custom fit to my height and a wild elm bow at six feet even and one at 6’ 6” for when Jack was tall enough to use it. I told the bowyer to have them delivered by the merchant who was making the silk bowstrings for me.

Next, Gregory directed me to the mercer’s street, and we split up and queried each shop until we found two bolts of fine green cloth worthy of a noblewoman’s dress. We also got lots of embroidery thread, extra green thread, some fancy lace, and finally silk thread, all the silk thread that we could find, which wasn’t nearly as much as I’d hoped to buy. I hoped to find someone in Lancaster who could learn to make silk bowstrings.

Our last stop was the goldsmith’s street where I searched for a considerable time before finding exactly what I wanted, three nearly matching gold necklaces with a diamond on them and three matching strings of pearls. Even with as much money as I had available (mostly back at the castle), paying £35 for six pieces of jewelry made me a bit nervous, although I knew my wife, mother, and sister would adore them. As an afterthought, I bought a simple gold necklace with a cross on it for Margaret’s mother.

I also ordered a hundred feet of simple gold chain for the female slaves to wear as necklaces, in addition to the fifty feet the merchant already had.

Happy with my purchases, yet still overwhelmed by the big city, we made our way back to Kensington where I packed my belongings and retrieved Sniffy from the kennels. He was definitely happy to see me and gave Jack and Gregory a thorough sniff before approving of them. Captain Weber thanked me for the silk bowstrings and explained how unusual it was to take them into battle since they were so expensive.

I explained that I felt anything giving our archers a fifty-yard advantage in range was worth it and I was just sorry that I hadn’t been able to buy enough for everyone who would join us along the way. I also let the guards on duty at the north gate know I was expecting a delivery of grappling hooks sometime before dawn.

This morning I woke up on my own well before dawn. Waking Jack, we dressed and carried the few belongings not already strapped to packs out to the courtyard. Squires and grooms were stashing items onto packhorses and mounted troops were starting to arrive, most of them sent by nearby Barons and Earls south and east of London. The rest we’d meet on our way north. I hoped.

The King saw us off after the Bishop offered a lengthy blessing on our endeavor. Captain Weber rode next to me as we exited the gate with the men four abreast behind us, snickering about the two carriages accompanying us. Evidently, at least two of the girls who had presented themselves for my approval last night were still hoping to gain my approval and were willing to accept the position of second wife.

I purposely wore the clothes I had worn on my trip south rather than the formal garb of a Knight, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Captain Weber suggested that once we were up the road a ways, that I move back into the column so I wasn’t such a target.

Instead, I told him how Sniffy and I were able to sense trouble ahead and asked him to inform the men I might say something absolutely preposterous like, “Let’s finally stop for breakfast,” shortly after we had just started riding for the day, or about stopping for lunch right after finishing lunch. I left it to him to decide when and where to actually stop for meals or to camp for the night, but if I called for a break or a meal, it meant there was something wrong up ahead. I also told him about the grappling hooks for lookouts to use to get up into the trees rapidly.

For part of the morning, he worked his way back through the column letting everyone know what I’d said, assigning lookouts and scouting groups. They would cover the flanks or move forward to determine if a threat was just highwaymen lying in wait for unsuspecting travelers, or an ambush. He also passed out the grappling hooks to lookouts.

The tactic came in handy on our third day. We hadn’t been traveling long when I called a halt for a break. Captain Weber almost questioned my decision when Sniffy growled a low, threatening growl, his hackles standing straight up.

To me, everything looked the same as during every other break we’d taken, but a short time later several troops came back down the road with six men tied up securely and tied to each other to make running impossible. We packed their gear, tied them to their horses, and six of the troops each tied off one of the prisoners’ horses and led them.

When we didn’t stop for supper at a “reasonable” time, Baron Ryland rode up to the front of the column and asked why we hadn’t stopped for the night in the last village where there was an inn. Apologizing, I reminded him that this was a military column with a military objective. We would be delayed a day or more by stopping when it was convenient instead of when it was necessary. Duly chastened, he apologized and rode back to where the two carriages were. When we finally did stop for the night, his daughter, Claire, apologized explaining that she had sent him forward to ask why we didn’t stop. She was hungry and had assumed we would stop at the inn for the night.

At least she stayed out of our way while we set up camp and posted the first set of sentries for the night. She even helped prepare supper, such as it was. Brown bread, cheese, dried meat, and fruit didn’t take a lot of preparation. A few of the men had managed to shoot a couple of rabbits and squirrels and even a pheasant while they were riding today and had them cooking over a small fire. Claire and the other girl, Jocelynn, seemed to be having a bit of a competition trying to bring me my supper. Finally, though, reason seemed to prevail, and they shared the duty, making sure to ask permission to sit with me while we ate.

That was another story in itself as the two girls looked around for a chair or something appropriate to sit on in their fancy dresses. Two of the men finally came to their rescue and brought over two rocks big enough for them to sit on. Captain Weber and I shared furtive grins as we watched the poor girls try to find a comfortable and ladylike way to sit on the rocks.

“Ladies, Captain, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to turn in. We’re going to be leaving shortly after dawn,” I announced once I’d finished eating. The look of astonishment on the girls’ faces was hilarious, but I managed to stifle the laugh. They were even more astonished when they watched me drag my bedroll under a low-hanging fir tree already being shared by several other men.

In the morning, only one of the carriages continued with us. Jocelyn and her father headed back for London obviously deciding that I was too much of a commoner and not enough of a noble for her. What a shame. Claire took so long getting herself together that she missed breakfast. Realizing this, I had one of the men take my bowl back to her with some of the porridge they had made for breakfast, along with bread, cheese, and apples. I stuffed a few extra apples in my saddlebag, not sure how long it would be before we stopped for lunch.

Each day we met more troops waiting for us along the way. After lunch on the day after we caught the six men, we reached the town where I had left the horses. The blacksmith who had agreed to watch thirty-five horses for a young soldier several days ago was quite surprised to find the same young soldier returning at the head of a column of cavalry and archers nearly a mile long.

When we reached the turnoff, I sent two hundred men and three of the four hunters to follow my trail back to the camp where I had dispatched the bandits and the four soldiers. I wanted to know if the Duke of York had discovered what happened to the men yet, and I hoped to recover the saddles, arms, armor, and other supplies I had left in the cave.

We caught up with the wagonloads of arrows just before dusk. I was surprised at how quickly they’d covered the distance until I found out that they’d been traveling most of each day, only stopping to sleep briefly and to rest and care for the horses. Not wanting to slow them up, we continued with them well into the night until they called a halt for the night.

We reached the ambush spot early the next day. It was hard for me to return here, but I steeled myself and assigned a large group of men to bury the bodies while I recovered the rest of the gold, as well as the supply wagon and the carriage.

Yet again, we pressed on into the night before calling a halt, reaching Lancaster just before dusk the next day. I sent one group of men to find Jeffrey and take him to the Manor House under guard. I sent Claire and her father to the Manor House for the night and went to find my wife, and then my mother and sister. When we had stopped for lunch, I changed into my new clothes and cloak with the coat of arms, adding the white belt and gold spurs just before our arrival.

While the townspeople were busy gawking at me, they were also pointing to my mother’s house. When I got there, I found out that Margaret had gone into labor a short time ago. As the midwife tended to Margaret, after letting her know that I was back and waiting impatiently outside, I gave my mother and sister the bad news. Their grief was moderated somewhat by the news that I was now a Knight and the new Earl of Lancaster. Jack was unloading the saddlebags full of money and my belongings right in front of the house.

The sudden squalling of a baby interrupted us and both my mother and Abby rushed back into the cottage while I waited nervously outside for news. A few moments later Abby rushed out to let me know that Margaret had a boy and both mother and son were doing fine. It took a while before the women allowed me in to see them. Margaret’s reaction when she saw me told me that she hadn’t heard the news yet. I’m sure the look on my face at seeing the tiny pink head covered in scraggly black hair, and nursing at her breast, was pretty close to the surprised look on her face upon seeing me walk into the house dressed as I was.

Someone had moved the bed closer to the fireplace and the roaring fire therein and I knelt next to her head. “How is Lady Miller doing?” I asked as I stroked her face gently.

“What ... how...?” she asked eloquently.

While I told my tale, I watched, rapt, as our son continued to knead and suckle her breast. I guess my story was boring him since he finished his meal and went to sleep long before I finished telling it. Margaret gasped when I told of Jake’s involvement. She was aware of what would happen to his wife and daughter Gemma, her best friend. Apprehensively I told her that the King had graciously allowed me to offer life as my personal slave to any family members I felt were not involved in the conspiracy.

“How many are we talking about?” she asked nervously.

“Probably the families of at least thirty or so conspirators,” I answered more nervously than she had been when she asked. “I have no way of knowing how many of their families were involved, or how many didn’t know about or were against the attack,” I added quickly. “I will leave the final decision on any woman I feel should be spared to you. I’m only letting you know about the option. I don’t have to offer it to anyone,” I said, trying to be conciliatory.