The Archer's Return: Medieval story in feudal times about knights, Templars, crusaders, Marines, and naval warfare during the Middle Ages in England in the reign of King Richard the lionhearted (9 page)

       One reason the men look so harmless as they trudge up from the dock is that the men who get off the galley are in four man cargo carrying teams and each team is carrying a pallet of cargo into the city at the gate that serves the city’s market.  The pallets are actually cut down ladders from the construction underway on our third wall and the cargos under the rough cloth covers are swords and quivers of arrows and more longbows.

       There are a couple of guards standing in the shade near the gate who try to wave the first four men to a stop.   But the cargo carriers say something in a foreign language and keep right on going towards the market and its stalls.  They even ignore a somewhat shouted command to stop.  The other cargo carriers following them keep on coming in and go right on past the guards as well.

        It isn’t until the fourth or fifth team of cargo carriers passes through the gate and keeps going that one of the guards begins to get suspicious.  He walks out into the hot sunlight and grabs a passing cargo carrier by the arm to stop him.  He is shrugged off and the man keeps walking. 

       It isn’t until the gate guard pulls back the cloth covering the weapons of the next cargo litter that he jumps back and shouts a warning.  It’s just about the last thing he ever does and his shouting doesn’t last long - because the nearest cargo carrier promptly drops his corner of the cargo litter he is carrying and cuts the guard’s throat with a thrust of the knife concealed in his tunic sleeve.  He does it so quickly that the end of the cargo litter he drops doesn’t even have time to hit the ground.

     The men at the end of our long line of cargo carriers trudging toward the gate in the sun hear the guard’s scream and a loudly shouted order to hurry.  They begin running.  More and more of the sweating cargo carriers rush into the city after the alarm is raised – until we’re all in and we shut and bar the gate behind us.
We’re in by God!

       Weapons are snatched off the cargo litters and a few seconds later more than a hundred heavily armed and terribly overheated swordsmen and archers are running through Nicosia’s incredibly hot summer afternoon streets.  We’re running for the castle gate on the other side of the walled city, the gate that opens on the cart path that leads up to the king’ castle.

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       Before we left Limassol Henry and Harold found several men who know the city and brought them to me.  They’re former slaves and they lead us in a great puffing and gasping run along the cobblestoned streets to the city gate opposite the king’s castle on the hill above the city.  One of our men stops suddenly faints and falls down on the hot cobblestones and a little later another stops and leans against a wall with a pain in his side; we go on without them.

       As I follow our guides around a corner where the street turns I can see a small group men up ahead at the gate.  Several men who may or may not be guards are standing at the city’s castle gate.  They are obviously alerted by the shouts that follow us and the chattering sound of so many running sandals slapping on the cobblestones. 

       The men at the gate look intently towards us for a few seconds – and then they run.  It’s a good thing they do; we’re too tired to fight.  At least I am.  It’s damn hot running in the sun of a summer afternoon on Cyprus.

       Nicosia is a big city, almost ten thousand people.  It takes a while to run all the way through the city to reach the castle gate.  By the time I get to there my legs are tired and I’m sweating like a pig and totally out of breath, and so are the men who are running with me. 

       I watch and listen as the escaping and shouting guards run up the cart track to the castle while I’m leaning over trying to catch my breathe. 
Well it won’t be long now before the alarm sounds.  I wonder what the king will do.

       The men running to the castle are not the only ones scared into action.  There aren’t many people on the streets because of the heat that virtually shuts down Cyprus’s cities every summer afternoon.  But those that do see us watch with their mouths open and growing alarm as our big group of heavily armed and sweating men lumbers past. 

       There are a few shouted questions but no one waits to ask questions as we go by – children are shooed inside by anxious women, men dive into doorways, and all over the city doors and gates started being barred and merchant stalls begin closing.

       We quickly shut the gate in the city wall that leads to the king’s castle and leave several dozen men to guard it.  Then we lumber off to the other city gates to repeat the process.  Only when all the gates into the city are closed and barred will we begin hunting down whatever is left of the king’s men in the city.  Hopefully the information we have is correct and there won’t be many. 

      
But we’re in by God.  We’re in.

       The last gate in Nicosia’s city wall is being shut and barred by my exhausted men as Henry’s galleys arrive and begin rapidly unloading their men on to the dock.  So far there has been absolutely no resistance.  The king and his men are in the castle up above the city and by now they almost certainly know something is wrong even though they probably don’t know what it is.

       One of our men runs up some stone steps to the top of the city wall and shouts down that our galleys have arrived and are unloading at the dock.  I go up the steps two at time to see for myself.  Then I stand sweating in the shade of a stone pillar and watch Henry’s men as they unload.  It’s quite impressive. 
And I’m certainly glad that the man who trained them is bringing the first of the forces I’m marshaling.

       Within minutes after it docks each galley is emptied of its men and begins heading back to Limassol to pick up more men and supplies.  It will take it quite a bit longer to get back since a goodly portion of the rowers who got it here so quickly are forming up in ranks on the dock.

     A drum begins beating as each galley’s company finishes forming up into ranks.  Then the men begin marching off the dock with all them stepping to the beat of the drum just as they do when they are rowing.  It’s the first time I’ve seen men march like that.  I’ve never seen such a thing before and it’s very impressive. 

       Henry himself will lead the first four of our Marine companies to positions just out of arrow range in front of the castle’s main gate.  We could be wrong, of course, but it is likely that is where a sortie will come if there is one.  The other two companies will take up similar positions in front of each of the castle’s two smaller side doors until darkness falls.  Then they too will come join us in front of the castle’s main gate. 

       Our policy is simple – absolutely no one will be allowed to leave or enter the castle until Yoram and our men are released, not if we can help it at least.  What we don’t know is how much food and water is in the castle or if there are any secret entrances. 
Actually that’s not true – we’ll let women and children leave.  Only the king and his men will starve until our men are released.

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       Evan is the captain of the galley whose men are in the city.  He’s a Welshman, one of the archers we recruited in Acre.  He served in one of Richard’s English speaking companies of archers long enough to learn enough English to get by.  Henry and Harold selected Evan and his ship’s company to take the city so they must think he and his men are capable.  And so far it’s been proving to be a good choice.

        We had several long talks on the galley coming here so I’m pretty sure Evan knows what he and his men are expected to do now.  He’s got a former galley slave with him who speaks Greek in case he needs an interpreter for the local citizens.

       In any event, it’s time for me to join Harold so I shake Evan’s hand and congratulate him on a job well done.  Then I take Peter and Robert and my ten swordsmen and start walking back to the gate that leads to the dock. 

      
Evan and his men did a good job of getting us into the city.  They need to be recognized; I wonder if he’d be a good man to be in charge of an office in Beirut if we can find an acceptable scribe to do his writing and sums.

       Nicosia is extremely quiet as my fetchers and swordsmen and I walk back to the dock gate in the city walls.  No one is about.  And that’s a pity for I’m terribly thirsty.  I’d dearly love to have a drink of water or ale or some fruit to eat - and I’m sure the men feel the same.

       A dozen or so of men from Evan’s crew watch as we approach the city gate that opens on to the cart path to the dock.  They’re ranged along the wall in an effort to escape the relentless sun.  Several more are up on wall standing in what little shade there is up there.  They’re watching the dock and the cart track leading up to the gate.

       “Well done, Lads, well done.  We’ve got the city and so far no one’s been hurt except that one.”  That’s what I say to them as I walk up to them and point to the guard with the cut throat who is still lying on the ground near the gate. 

       “We’re going out, lads.  Bar the gate after we leave and guard it with your lives.  Don’t let anyone except our own men in.  No exceptions no matter what they say or promise.”

       With that we unbar the gate and start down towards the dock.  When we get part way down I realize that Henry’s main force is marching up from the dock towards us.  So I stop and wait. 

       “Hello Henry,” I shout from off to the side of the track as the first of his men come marching by to the beat of their company’s rowing drum. 

       “Your men look impressive.  Very impressive.  Did you hear the city is ours without losing a single man?” 
I want his men to know these things.

       When Henry reaches me he explains that since we’ve taken the city the fastest way for him to get his men to the king’s castle is to march them through the city streets.

       “Good thinking, Henry.  Good thinking.”

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      My little company of men joins Henry’s march through the city and I walk with him so we can talk.  Henry confirms that because it is the shortest route all of our companies will come through the town on their way to the King’s castle on the hill.  And that is exactly what is happening.

       More and more people come out to look as our companies march past to the beat of their booming drums – and more and more of them begin clapping and waving as they realize where we are headed.  It seems the new French king imposed by the Templars is not exactly popular with his Greek-speaking subjects.

       We pass through the city’s castle gate and the men of the first four of Henry’s companies begin to form up five deep just out of arrow shot of the castle walls.  The last two companies coming through the gate march off to their positions at gates elsewhere around the castle.  They’ll return to join the main force once it is in place. 

       Each file of five men is using their left hands to help carry two of Brian’s special Swiss pikes with a cutting blade and hook about a foot short of its metal point.  Carrying them in such a manner results in each file of five men standing in a very straight line as well as being shoulder to shoulder with the file on either side of it.  Hopefully carrying them thusly also means the men in the castle will not see the pikes and realize what they are until they are raised - and then it will be much too late.

       Henry tells his men to “stand at ease” and “use your water skins” as he and I walk past the four company formations to inspect them.  It’s hot in the summer sun so a few men from each company are given coins from Henry’ purse and sent back into the city to buy food and water.  Indeed it is so hot that a few minutes later Henry orders his companies to fall back to the city wall and sit in the shade.  Then we wait.

       We don’t have to wait very long.  Suddenly the gate in the castle’s curtain wall opens and an elderly priest begins walking down the cart track towards us.  Henry and I stand up and walk out to meet him.

       “Greetings brothers.  King Guy wants to know who you are and why you are here.”

       My response is very cold and menacing.

       “I am the Earl of Cornwall and I am here to fetch my men who are being held by the king for ransom.  And I will be here with my veterans until I get my men and the heads of those responsible and coins for my trouble and that of my men.” 

       And while I am saying that the priest is obviously counting how many men I have.  He’s such a dunce he’s moving his lips as he counts. 
Probably not a priest at all.

       “I will, of course, pass your lordships request to his majesty.”

       “It’s not a request,” I snarl in the most vicious voice I can manage.  “You can tell the king that I either get my men immediately or I’ll wait right here until he starves and take all the coins and all the heads in his castle – including his and yours.”

       The priest is aghast as listens but merely nods and says he’ll give the king my message.  Then he turns and trudges back up the hill. 

       The sun goes down without there being any response to my very just demands.

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       We’re munching on our bread and cheese in the cool of the early morning and the sun is still behind the castle towering above us when the castle gate opens - and a large force of mounted knights and running men comes hurrying out.  They obviously intend to form up and come straight down the hill at us. 

       We are expecting some sort of sortie.  It’s inevitable that the king test us to see if we are really a serious threat.  That’s why we slept and ate in our ranks and have been standing to arms since long before the sun came up.  Even so the sudden arrival of the king’s men is a surprise and there is a lot of shouting and running about as we all hurry to our places.

       The king’s men will have surprise and momentum going for them because of the relatively steep downward slope of the castle hill and their ability to determine when they are going to attack and where they will hit our line. 

       We have something going for us too – battle experience and the long days of intense training and the long Swiss pikes and long bows the French knights and their soldiers have never faced before.
I like our odds, yes I do. 

         “Use lights and then heavies when they come in range.” the sergeants begin to cry.  That’s followed by “prepare to set your pikes.  Prepare to set your pikes” when the mounted men begin moving down the hill towards us.

       We are closed up in five tight shoulder to shoulder lines with no gaps between our six companies when the pikes come up and our archers notch their arrows.  The first two lines are close upon one another so that our front will bristle with pikes like the quills of a hedgehog when we raise them. 

       The three archer lines behind them are each six paces back so that every archer has room to lay his arrows and sword on his shield lying in front of him and room to shoot.

       Every archer will initially use his lighter arrows that can fly farther and then switch to his heavier arrows when the king’s men get in range.  It is the heavy arrows that don’t fly as far that can punch right through the armor of knights and men at arms; the light ones can get the horses and the men’s unarmored parts and fly one hundred or more paces farther depending on the strength of the archer’s arm.  Coming out of our long bows both types of arrows fly faster and harder and several hundred paces further than similar arrows shot by regular bows. 

       Guy and his knights may have heard about long bows and pikes but they have obviously never faced them.  As they come out of the gate they move down the slope towards the city walls to form up where they think they will be out of arrow range.  Bad mistake.  They’ll be well within it.

       Knights and running men at arms are still coming out of the castle gate and beginning to form up when Henry’s shouted order is given and loudly repeated through our ranks by every sergeant and chosen man.

       “Notch lights.” … “Constant launch.”  … “Shoot.” … “Constant launch.” …  “Shoot.”

        Four hundred archers immediately begin dropping a continuous hailstorm of arrows on the King’s men trying to form up in front of the castle’s gate.  They raise their shields, of course, but there is consternation and confusion in their ranks as more and more men and horses are hit.

       Then the king or whoever is in command loses his head in response to the rain of arrows and makes another mistake – instead of backing up to get out of range he orders a head on charge even before the last of his men are out of the castle gate. 

       The knights who are still on their horses, and most of them still are despite our initial rain of arrows, begin galloping down the hill to attack us with their infantry support coming behind them and falling further and further back.

       Our archers instinctively turn their aim towards the on-coming horsemen.  The knights are coming particularly fast because their horses are fresh and they are charging downhill.   But they are riding through a heavy rain of arrows and more and more horses and knights go down and quite often take others down with them.

        Less than a minute later about twenty knights finally reach our lines and the pikes waiting for them.  Many of them don’t realize the length of the pikes on which they are about to impale themselves and their horses until the last second.  A few of see our pikes come up and try to turn away when they realize what it means.  None succeed.

       The surviving king’s knights and their horses crash into our line of heavy pikes and many of the horses are stopped dead in their tracks and thrown over backwards or to the side as they impale themselves.  Everywhere there are screams and battle cries and, almost simultaneously, many loud snaps as the weight of an impaled horse or rider breaks a pike despite its sturdy thickness.  

       One horse and rider actually breaks through and the knight’s swinging broad sword reaps havoc and casualties among the archers for a moment -until he is brought down by arrows shot at close range as a heavily swung archer’s sword slashes the horse’s right front leg so severely that it is almost severed.  The knight’s horse knocks over a number of archers as it collapses with a scream that it is so loud it can be heard above the din.

        “Stand firm.  Shoot at the infantry.”  … “Stand firm.  Shoot at the infantry.”  The cry goes up.

       And that’s what we do.  The men running behind the knights do not have time to reach our lines before our archers begin shooting at them and our pike men with broken pikes snatch up their swords and shields and kneel as they await the charge.  Now it’s the pikemen’s job to prevent the enemy infantry from reaching the archers.  They are kneeling and crouching low behind their shields so the archers behind them can shoot straight into the approaching enemy.  It’s something they’ve been practicing every day for weeks.

       None of the king’s infantry even reach our lines.  Our archers are good shots and instinctively concentrate on the thrusters - many go down with five or six arrows in them.  Those still lumbering down the hill increasingly throw their shields away and turn to run.  That leaves their backs unprotected – and many of them don’t make it back to the castle. 

       Within the space of just a few minutes the battle is over and the slope in front of us is littered with hundreds of dead and wounded enemy knights and men at arms.  Very few of the king’s men reach the safety of the castle gate before it swings shut and traps some of them outside.  After a minute the gate cracks back open and lets the desperate men rush in.

       “First line forward to take prisoners.  We need prisoners to exchange for our men in the castle.” 

       That is the order that comes down as the king’s men still living on the ground in front of us try to struggle to their feet to escape. 

      Our first line of pikemen slowly moves up the slope with their shields held up as they get within arrow range of the castle.  Every so often one of the king’s men tries to resist or is approached by one of our men who ignores the order.  The result is inevitably hysterical pleas followed by a final scream and a chopping sound.

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       Henry is on the far left with Samuel Farmer’s company from one of the galleys we took off the Tunisians and I am in the far right company with the archers and pike men of Albert’s galley.  We are with the companies at the opposite ends of our line in case the king’s men try to attack either of our flanks.  If such a flank attack happens someone will have to order our companies to quickly swing around to face in another direction instead of to the front.  Henry and I are there to give the order to swing around if the company captains do not. 

       Albert’s a steady man and he and the other company captain have trained and practiced such maneuvers, of course, but this is the real thing and real battles are never the same as practice battles. 

      
The men around me are obviously nervous and rightly so.  I know I am. I always seem to be nervous, and trying not to show it, before every battle even though the men around me are not.

       In the dark of the night before the battle starts I initially have a great deal of trouble finding a place to stand with my two assistants and my guards.  We can’t find a place to stand because the archers in Albert’s company are packed in tightly side by side in order to remain behind their pikemen. 

        It isn’t until dawn’s early light arrives I finally can see well enough to crowd us into the front line of Albert’s archers by ordering the men we replace to form a fourth line of archers behind the middle of the company.  

       Three of my guards and Robert and Peter are archers and, of course, so am I.  We lay our arrows out on our shields as all the archers do.  The others draw their swords, check their daggers, and get a good grip on their shields.  We barely have time to get into the line when there is a great shout and lots of pointing.  The castle gate is opening.

       For a few moments we watch the king’s knights and men surge out of the gate as if we’ve all been struck dumb.  But then the cries of the sergeants to notch our lights and shoot takes hold and we all begin delivering arrows at a tremendous pace.  At some point as the king’s knights begin their charge and get closer I remember switching to my heavies and watching the pikemen in front of me set the butts of their pikes and kneel as low as possible behind their shields so we can see the approaching attackers and shoot over their heads.

       There is much shouting and grunting all around me as the archers launch arrow after arrow from our longbows.  Very few of the king’s horsemen reach our line but those that do create havoc as they crash into our pikes and their horses are impaled.  One of the riders comes sailing through the air and knocks me to the side as he crashes straight into one of the archers behind me.

       In a trice Peter hauls me to my feet while Robert covers me with his shield.  As I struggle to my feet and begin searching for my bow I can see one of Albert’s archers behind me holding a dagger in both hands as he crouches over the fallen rider and chops downward with a mighty blow.

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       It’s over.  We all lean on our bows and watch as a couple of wounded men stagger up to the gate in the castle’s curtain wall and it once again opens to admit them.

       “Well done lads.  Well done.  That’ll learn the bastards.”  That’s what I keep saying loudly over and over as I lead my little band of assistants and guards out of Albert’s company and into the open area in front of our lines.

       Henry comes trotting over to where I’m standing as I watch our pike men strip the weapons and armor off the dead and wounded men in front of our lines.

       “Quick Henry,” I say as I watch a couple of our men finish off a screaming knight.  “Get out there and make sure we take some prisoners.  We may need them to exchange for Yoram and his men.” 

       Then over the protestations of Peter and Robert I lead my little command group out into field to look at the king’s men and horses.  They are strewn everywhere from our lines all the way up to the gate in the castle’s wall. 

       One knight whose eyes are still flickering must have particularly drawn the archers’ attention – arrows are sticking out of him and his horse everywhere.  He’s beyond any hope of repair so I take my sword and finish him with a soldier’s mercy into his left eye.  I can’t be sure because of his injuries and pain distorted features but he may be one of the Limassol castle knights who sailed with us to Alexandria. 

       Then I realize I’m terribly thirsty even though the sun is still not yet come over the hill and begun shining on the field.  And if I’m thirsty so must everyone else be also.

       “Peter, Robert, run back to the companies and tell their sergeant captains to send water parties into the city.”

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       Captured weapons and the clothes are in piles and the men are sitting in shade of the wall quietly talking and tending to our wounded when the castle gate opens.  Some of the men stand up to look when the old priest comes out and once again begins walking down the cart path towards us.  This time I stand up but I stay in the shade and don’t walk out to meet him.

       “Coming to count us again?” I inquire sweetly when the heavily sweating man reaches me.

       “I have good news,” he tells me as he wipes his brow.  “The king will accept your terms.”

       “I’m sure he’d like to.” I laugh.  “But now it’s much too late for that and you know it.  My offer was made yesterday for the purpose of avoiding a battle.  Your king rejected it and now some of my men have been killed or wounded - not too many of them thanks to their experience and training, and, of course, the stupidity of your king, but more than enough to change my terms.”

       Then I lay out my terms as I poke the priest on the chest with my pointing finger each time I name one:

       “if my men are alive and in good condition and immediately released I will let the king live in return for the heads of everyone involved in their capture, ten thousand silver coins so that each of my men can be paid five, one thousand bezant gold coins for me for my trouble and expenses, the permanent end of taxation on the city and merchants of Limassol, the ownership of the Limassol castle and all the abandoned mines on the island, and the right to take all the trees I want from the king’s lands.”