England has a new King. Henry is the young son of King John. Guided by a Council of regents and the Earl Marshal he has a divided England to heal. When William Marshal gives Sir Thomas, Earl of Cleveland, the responsibility of making the young King a warrior, he sets in motion a series of events which, although they might begin to heal the kingdom will bring pain to the Earl and his family. ‘Welsh War’ takes the reader from the wilds of the north of England to the dangerous world of thirteenth century London and the dangers of war and siege in the Welsh Marches.
My latest book in the series which follows the exploits of the Warlord’s great grandson, Sir Thomas of Stockton, is set during the time of King Henry’s minority when a Council of Regents ran England. The novel also shows the growing family of Sir Thomas. We see castle life in thirteenth century England.
Excerpt
We reached the gate and William and I held our shields above the heads of the two men at arms as they began to hack at the door. I heard ladders strike the walls. There was a cry and a thud as an arrow plucked a defender from the walls and dropped him ten paces from us. Then I heard the sound I had been praying for. It was the sound of fighting and was coming from inside the walls. My men had gained access. William glanced up and said, “Sir William has made the top of the walls!”
Despite their best efforts Ridley and Padraig were not going to damage the gate, “Hold, we will rely on our men gaining access.” I had with me, my squire and ten men at arms. “Swing your shields around and when we gain entry we run for the inner gate, Sir Alfred will be hard pressed to hold it.” Even as I said it I did not know how many of my men had survived to reach the gates.
I heard the sound of heavy fighting on the other side of the gate. It seemed to be over quickly and then the bar was removed and the gate slid open. Sir William and Sir Fótr stood there. “Secure the gates! Well done Sir Fótr! My men, with me!” I led my men up the slope towards the other gate. I saw that the outer bailey had bodies upon it. I saw at least two of my men. The inner bailey could be seen through the opened gate. I saw Mordaf and his brother loosing arrows towards the hall. I saw that John the Archer was tending to Henry, my son’s squire, he had a wounded arm. The squire pointed his good arm. “Sir Alfred pursued Sir Hugh into the hall!”
The door to the keep was open and I threw myself through it. I heard the sounds of battle coming from the Great Hall. On the floor, just outside lay two of my men. As we burst in I saw Alfred with Thomas the Welshman and Sean Wild Eyes. The three of them were standing before a weeping girl. Sir Hugh and six men were trying to get at them. Even as we entered I saw Sean as he was stabbed in the leg. The Irishman fought on.
“Stockton!” I was angry but it was a cold anger. My son’s life was in danger and these men who sought to hurt him and the girl were little more than savages. As the man at arms raised his sword to end Sean’s life I rammed my sword deep within his guts and I twisted it out. Even as he fell I ran towards Sir Hugh. He was a big man and Sir Alfred had no armour. My son would have little chance. “Turn, you pathetic apology for a man, and face me!” I backhanded his squire away with my shield and exposed Sir Hugh’s side. He had no choice. He had to face me.
He wore no helmet and his face was a mask of pure evil. “King John always hated you! Do you know he hired more than ten men to kill you?” If he said it to upset and shock me then he failed. I, of all people, knew the evil that had been within his breast.
“Then they failed! And now you will die. I will not save you for the executioner’s block. You will die and your remains will be spread across this land. There will be no record of you so that men will wonder who it was who caused such pain and suffering.”
I saw, in his eyes, the sign that he was about to strike and I took the blow on my shield. My men had disposed of the others and so I had room to swing. I put every ounce of strength I had in the blow and when it struck his shield I saw him wince. I stepped forward, pulled back my arm and raised it. The blow this time came down diagonally and he barely had time to swing his shield around. This time my strike must have completely numbed his arm. The shield dropped. As I pulled back my right arm I punched with my shield and hit him in the face. He reeled. This was no warrior. This was a butcher, a killer. From what I had learned he was a predator who preyed on young girls. This was a knight who did not deserve the title. He abused his power and position on the weak and the innocent. He had been happy to attempt to slay my son for he had no mail but when he faced a real knight then all of his flaws were exposed. As he lay there I brought my sword from on high, “This is for Sir Henry and all the others whose lives you have ruined!” The sword tore through his throat and continued down to sever his head from his spinal cord. It rolled away and a lake of blood pooled around it.
There was silence in the hall save for the sobbing of the girl. I saw that my son had his arm around her and was giving her comfort. It was over.
