Medieval II - In Shadows of Kings Page 8

  ‘Misha,’ said Garyn as he approached. ‘What did Tom want?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, ‘just to talk. He asked how you were.’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to him properly since you both took Geraint to Caerleon. Have I offended him in any way?’

  ‘No,’ said Misha, ‘but we share a burden.’

  ‘What burden?’

  ‘I cannot tell you, Garyn, I swore I would not but the burden weighs him down and he seeks my company to lighten the load.’

  ‘I respect your oath, Misha,’ said Garyn, ‘but if you need to talk, then at least take Elspeth into your confidence. Nobody should struggle alone.’

  ‘I will remember that,’ said Misha. ‘Anyway, come in for I have prepared the meat but there are still turnips to boil. Tonight I will regale you with tales of my people.’

  ‘Sounds lovely,’ said Elspeth clapping her hands. ‘I can’t wait.’

  ----

  Chapter Eight

  The Coronet

  1276

  Geraint stood at the rear of the ship, looking back at the wake left behind as the vessel continued its journey south west. The Cog was quiet except for the creaking of the rigging and the stars shone brightly above. A few crewmen manned their stations around the deck, many dozing where they sat but would be awake in an instant should they be required.

  ‘Can’t you sleep soldier?’

  Geraint turned to see a large man sitting in the shadows.

  ‘Sleep has evaded me for many nights,’ said Geraint straining to see who it was.

  The man leaned forward and Geraint was shocked to see it was Tarian, the expedition leader.

  ‘Sleep is overrated,’ said Tarian. ‘A couple of hours are plenty.’

  ‘My Lord,’ stuttered Geraint, ‘I never meant to disturb you.’

  ‘Be calm, soldier,’ said Tarian. ‘I have watched you closely these past few weeks and have been meaning to talk to you. This is as good a time as any. I hear you saw action in England as well as the holy-land.’

  ‘I did, My Lord.’

  ‘And you were released from service?’

  ‘I was. I did no wrong but my brother bought my release as part of an oath to my family.’

  ‘And how do you feel about that?’

  ‘I respect his motives and would never dishonour him by voicing my regret but truth be told, I miss the calling of shared campaign.’

  ‘Spoken as a true soldier,’ said Tarian. ‘To the uninitiated, war is a brutal state of affairs but those who have experienced the demands, find it difficult to settle back into normality.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ said Geraint. ‘My mind is eased only amongst those who have shared similar experiences.’

  ‘Sit,’ said Tarian, indicating a pile of coiled rope. ‘It does me good to talk to my men sometimes. It reminds me of my time on campaign.’

  ‘Have you fought in many battles?’ asked Geraint.

  ‘Too many,’ said Tarian, ‘though this expedition is by far the most important.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Geraint.

  ‘Because it is the opportunity to change our world,’ said Tarian.

  ‘My Lord,’ said Geraint. ‘I am honoured you share your time with me but I have many questions. Are you at liberty to share your thoughts with a common man?’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Tarian. ‘The night is yet long and there is nothing better than sharing tales with comrades. Ask your questions young man for you are the first to show mettle amongst the men.’

  ‘Do you really believe we will reach this strange land we seek?’

  ‘I do,’ said Tarian. ‘The Captain is the best money can buy. His reputation is second to none and he has always come through. If he thought there was a risk of failure, he wouldn’t have set out.’

  ‘Has he been there before?’

  ‘No man alive has been this way before, at least none that have travelled and returned to tell the tale.’

  ‘So how does he know we are going the right way?’

  Tarian stared at Geraint for a while before standing up.

  ‘Come with me,’ he said and walked over to the aft-castle to climb the ladder. Geraint hesitated as it had been declared out of bounds but Tarian put his mind at rest.

  ‘Come,’ said Tarian, ‘there will be no retribution.’

  Geraint followed him up the ladder and within seconds, was on the highest part of the ship bar the masts. The area was similar to any castellated tower except that it was much smaller and made of wood. Around the castellations, many boxes were lashed to the timber walls and tied securely with heavy ropes. In the middle of the floor stood a pedestal covered with a waxed cloth. Two mariners manned the large arm controlling the steering rudder while a guard armed with a pike stood to one side. As they approached he lowered the pike to the challenge position.

  ‘State your business,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Stand down, soldier,’ said Tarian. ‘He is with me.’

  The man returned to his station but watched closely as they walked slowly around the wooden fortification.

  ‘It is right that no man alive has been this way,’ said Tarian, ‘nor has there been any since before the time of our grandfathers but men have travelled this way before and left us directions.’

  ‘How can that be?’ said Geraint. ‘There is nothing but open sea for reference. For all we know we could be sailing in circles.’

  ‘You may be no sailor’ said Tarian ‘but surely even you know how to navigate by the stars.’

  ‘Alas no,’ said Geraint. ‘I went the direction I was ordered and paid no heed to such sciences.’

  ‘But you have seen must the heavens circle around one point.’

  Geraint looked up and found the North Star.

  ‘I have,’ he said, ‘and know that star is the only one that maintains its position.’

  ‘Exactly and that is the secret. By using that star as a reference, we can ensure this ship is always pointing in the right direction.’ He walked toward the rear of the ship and pointed at a piece of flat wood fixed on top of the rail. In the board were two wooden dowels spaced about an arrow’s length apart.

  ‘By lining up these two dowels with the star, we know the ship sails true. There are always two men on duty as well as the guard. The guard’s job is to ensure those on navigation duty stay awake. All three are on pain of death should any fall asleep. Every few minutes they take it in turn to check the alignment and adjust the rudder if needs be. During the day we can do similar alterations using the sun as a reference though that is more complicated due to its travel across the heavens.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Geraint, ‘but often clouds fill the sky. How do you keep the course true on such days?’

  ‘That is where it gets clever,’ said Tarian, ‘and we have an instrument from the east to help us.’ He stepped toward the pedestal, removing the cover to reveal the box that had been brought aboard at Caerleon. ‘This is called a compass,’ he said casting aside the lid of the box to reveal a round instrument the size of an open palm. ‘That needle always points north so the same rules apply. By keeping the direction of the ship relative to north, we maintain our course so as long as we have this, we know we sail true.’

  ‘Nothing short of witchcraft if you ask me,’ said Geraint.

  ‘No witchcraft, boy, just eastern science. The oceans have opened up since the discovery of such things and the world has become a different place.’

  ‘But surely you have to know where you are going before you can set a course,’ said Geraint. ‘How do you know which way to go?’

  ‘Because we have maps from the time of Prince Madoc,’ said Tarian. ‘He sailed this way a hundred years ago and kept detailed logs of the journey. He eventually made landfall and was so taken by the bountiful land, he returned to Wales a few years later to recruit more settlers before making the journey once more, never to return. What he did do however, is leave a copy of his first logs and it is those that the Captain uses to
follow his passage.’

  ‘I don’t know much about Madoc,’ said Geraint, ‘but remember you used his name at the beginning of this quest. I assume it his treasure we seek?’

  Tarian paused before answering.

  ‘What is your name, boy?’ he asked.

  ‘Geraint ap Thomas. I hail from Brycheniog.’

  ‘Well Geraint ap Thomas from Brycheniog, to answer that question, first I must give you a lesson in history. What do you know of your heritage?’

  ‘I am well versed in our ancestry,’ said Geraint, ‘as are all men of my village.’

  ‘In that case, tell me. Who was the last King of Wales?’

  ‘Iago ap Idwal,’ said Geraint without hesitation. ‘He reigned over two hundred years ago and was the ancestor of our current Prince, Llewellyn ap Gruffydd.’

  ‘And what makes you say Iago?’

  ‘It is well known.’ said Geraint, ‘and tales are told of his rule in every tavern across our land.’

  ‘And like all laymen, the tales of poets and minstrels become the truth to your ears,’ said Tarian.

  ‘Why wouldn’t they be?’ asked Geraint. ‘It is the way our place in the world is remembered.’

  ‘It is the way certain people want you to remember,’ said Tarian, ‘but is far from the truth.’

  ‘You surprise me, My Lord,’ said Geraint, ‘for I know no other version.’

  ‘History is written by the victors, Geraint,’ said Tarian. ‘Always remember that and do not fear searching deeper for any truth. Iago was indeed a King of Wales and it is his lineage that has ruled most of our land in some way over the last two hundred years, especially through his grandson Owain Gwynedd and Owain’s grandson, Llewellyn ap Iorwerth.’

  ‘They were great leaders,’ said Geraint, ‘especially Llewellyn the Great.’

  ‘Indeed they were and if our current Prince displayed the same mettle as the forebear who shared his name, I would have no argument with his leadership. However, the truth is this. The courts of Llewellyn ap Gruffydd are rotten with petty squabbles as nobles jostle for position. Many such as I doubt his ability to lead, especially as he is known to sign treaties with Henry’s court at less than preferential terms. The houses of Wales are fragmented, Geraint and whilst we argue amongst ourselves, Longshanks looks toward Wales with conquest on his mind. However, I get ahead of myself. The line of Iago is undisputed but there is another line originating at the same time, that of Gruffydd ap Llewellyn.’

  ‘Gruffydd the Usurper,’ said Geraint.

  ‘Some called him that but he is recognised as a great leader and while Iago’s son was in exile in Ireland, Gruffydd earned the title King of Wales through conquest and political manoeuvring. He was a strong King and his lineage would have had lasting claim to the throne, however their fortunes died out through dissolution and petty squabbles. His line was closely linked to the English Kings and their blood became so diluted, their claim became weaker until any realistic chance of true Kingship was lost and Iago’s ancestors eventually regained that which had been lost to them.’

  ‘Through Llewellyn,’ said Geraint.

  ‘Yes, however, it is Gruffydd’s Kingship that many see as the true lineage and though his line is fragmented, many have claimed his blood as a sign of royal pedigree and garnered support to their claim to authority.’

  ‘That is ridiculous,’ said Geraint.

  ‘I agree,’ said Tarian. ‘Even if a true heir was proved, it would set brother against brother and Longshanks would just sit back in glee as he watched us tear each other apart.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘Longshanks is known for his love of conquest and hatred of Wales. His love of drinking is also common knowledge and during the times his tongue has been loosened by wine he has oft stated his intention of one day conquering our country. Subsequently, I and others like me fear that with the death of his father, that drunken boast has now become a certainty and Wales lies at the mercy of Longshanks’ experienced army. It is for that reason that I and a band of close comrades seek to unify Wales under a single banner, an attempt to join every family in common cause to guard our borders and if necessary, march on to London to unseat the incumbent ruler.’

  ‘Surely Llewellyn would balk at such ambition?’

  ‘Indeed he would,’ said Tarian, ‘and that is why he is not included in our plans.’

  Geraint stared at the Knight in astonishment.

  ‘My Lord, I fear we are talking treason.’

  ‘There is a thin line between a patriot and a traitor, Geraint depending on the outcome.’

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ said Geraint. ‘If we are in so much danger, why don’t the nobles just unite under Llewellyn’s banner?’

  ‘Because each has his own argument as to who should lead us and each is equally stubborn in his view.’

  ‘So how do you intend to unite the houses?’

  ‘By installing a figurehead to whom all can relate. A King with credentials so clear, that nobody can deny his lineage.’

  ‘Is there such a man?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Tarian, ‘otherwise, this quest has sailed in vain.’

  ‘We seek a man?’ gasped Geraint.

  ‘We do.’

  ‘I thought we sought a great treasure?’

  ‘Is not freedom from tyranny the greatest treasure of all?’

  ‘Yes but how do you know such a man exists?’

  ‘Because history tells us he does,’ said Tarian. ‘Cast your mind back to Owain Gwynedd, the grandson of Iago. Have we not agreed that he was a great and respected ruler?’

  ‘We have.’

  ‘He had many children, Geraint each of which has played a part in our history but he also had another son, Madoc ap Gruffydd. Madoc was born out of wedlock to one of Owain’s many mistresses and though he had a place in Owain’s household, he played no great part in his father’s Kingdom. When Owain died, Madoc could see he had no chance of succession and fearing for his safety, assembled a fleet of ships to find a new world across the sea.’

  ‘I fail to see the link,’ said Geraint.

  ‘Madoc’s mother was Anne Fitzroy, daughter of Henry Fitzroy. Are you aware of him?’

  ‘No, my Lord.’

  ‘Henry Fitzroy was the son of Nesta, Princess of Wales and King Henry the first and of course, you know who Henry’s father was?’

  ‘William the Conqueror.’

  ‘Correct, which means by direct lineage, Madoc has a true claim to the throne of England, should the current court fall but not only this, as his father was Owain Gwynedd, he also has a claim to the Welsh throne according to our own people.’

  ‘Thus making Madoc a potential ruler that would satisfy both camps in Wales,’ said Geraint.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Tarian, ‘and therein lies the nature of our quest.’

  ‘But he must have died many years ago.’

  ‘Obviously,’ said Tarian, ‘but hopefully he would have surviving heirs and as they have been isolated all this time they would not have been married off to other houses and thus diluting the lineage.’

  ‘How do you know that anybody has survived?’

  ‘We don’t but we know that Madoc found the place so acceptable he returned and took many hundreds more settlers with him. To me that says the land lends itself to easy living and there is no reason to believe they have died out.’

  ‘It is a fantastic story,’ said Geraint, ‘and indeed a worthy quest but leaves much to chance.’

  ‘Some things I can control,’ said Tarian, ‘the rest lays in the hands of God.’

  Geraint nodded.

  ‘My Lord, I thank you for your frank explanation.’

  ‘You will find me a fair and honest man Geraint of Brycheniog but as you have seen, I will suffer treachery off no man. The reason much of this has been kept private is that if we had to return without finding the new world, then such conversations have the power to lose people their heads. Now there is no chance of r
eturning alive unless we find land, the risk is no longer there.’ He paused. ‘The Captain reports you are a good worker with sense above most men, Geraint. I could use such a man when we reach land.’

  ‘To what end.’

  ‘There are over five hundred men on this quest,’ said Tarian. ‘Many have not met before embarking and need to be led. I also have fifty lancers and ten Knights. These men will need direction.’

  ‘I am no Knight, My Lord.’

  ‘I will lead the titled men as well as the lancers,’ said Tarian, ‘but seek men with clear values to lead the foot soldiers. You saw service in the ranks of Henry in England and again on Crusade in the holy-land. That is experience I cannot teach. What say you? Are you up to the task?’

  Geraint hesitated only momentarily before answering.

  ‘I believe I am, My Lord though would beg patience to fit the role.’

  ‘Time will be limited,’ said Tarian, ‘though I accept it will be strange to you. When we land you will be given a unit of fifty archers and fifty men at arms. Do well and you will rise to your true potential.’

  ‘An honour indeed,’ said Geraint. ‘I will try to meet your expectations.’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ said Tarian. ’Now I suggest you get some sleep before Spider has you mucking out the horses again.’

  Geraint climbed down the ladder as the sun was rising in the east. He headed down to the hold but as he did, a solitary voice echoed through the decks causing men to stir from their sleep in confusion and excitement.

  ‘What was that?’ asked a rower, looking over at Geraint. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Geraint, ‘but I think it was land ho.’

  Before he could say anymore the bell rang out summoning all off duty men to deck and Geraint knew he had heard correctly. After months at sea, the Coronet had finally reached land.

  ----

  A few days later, all four Cogs were anchored in a bay, rocking gently in the swell. They had sailed as close in to the shore as they dared and the side panels to the lower hold removed, leaving a gaping hole in each ship. The Captain gathered the men on deck.