Robehod -A Medieval Outlaw 

 

                                      Chapter                                             Page                                                                 Chapter                                                 Page   

                                     INTRODUCTION                               3                                                                  BERNESDALE                                    222

                                     EVESHAM                                               8                                                                  CHESTERFIELD                               239

                                     SWANYNGTON                                12                                                                 KENILWORTH                                  244

                                     LEICESTER                                           24                                                                  SALCEY                                                 251

                                    GASCONY                                              56                                                                 TUTBURY                                            258

                                    KENILWORTH                                     88                                                                 RUTLAND                                           294

                                    THRENGSTONE                               110                                                                 NEWGATE                                          319

                                    PERFEDDWLAD                              146                                                                 SWANYNGTON                              326

                                    SCHERWODE                                   163                                                                  Glossary                                               342

                                    LONDON                                              182                                                                  Bibliography                                      348

                                   PEATLING MAGNA                         202

EVESHAM

A thunderstorm had been raging early that day. The whole world seemed to be soaked; the newly emerging sun glistened from all things wet. The field below Green Hill, was littered with the bodies of both Montfort and Edward's armies. The battle site was a green canvas, broken up by the bodies of men in muddied clothing, along with grey, chestnut, and bay horses. Some of them were still struggling on the ground. To save my life, I decided to run from the battle field. By a sheer stroke of luck, I escaped easily. I was out in the open, and running as quickly as I could. It had started raining again, and through the rainy haze, I could see a mounted knight hurtling toward me. I adopted a tactic that had been described to me by a veteran of the Albigensian Crusade. The old soldier had told me, that when mounted knights are attacking, few can kill at high speed. The horse and rider are inclined to slow down, to make the kill. Horses also tend to hesitate, or take avoiding action, if they think they are running into a human. As this happens, a man can get close to the neck of the horse, thus avoiding the swing of an axe or sword. I had little recourse to do anything else.  Fortunately, the charging horse did slow down; and it did hesitate as I stood in its path. As it passed, I grabbed the knight’s leg, and struggled to get the pommel of the saddle with my other hand. I dropped my dagger and held on in the hope that my weight would unbalance the rider. The horse kept going! My grasp was weakening. I struggled to keep hold of both man and horse. Suddenly the knight began to lean to one side; my side. The horse slowed down; our combined weight was further exhausting the horse; it began to stumble. The horse moved on a few more yards, before finally collapsing in a skid. Breathing painfully, and in short gasps, I saw that I had narrowly avoided being trapped under the weight of this awesome fighting beast. As I regained my breathing, I looked more closely at the knight, and his horse. All became clear. The knight had received a fatal blow, evidenced by the sharp dent in his helmet. He was also pinned to his horse by what appeared to be, an armour piercing arrow. As this was on the opposite side of my desperate grasp, it explained why I could not dislodge the warrior, and why the bleeding horse had weakened rapidly. Looking around, I was surprised to find myself a field and a half away from the battle. I ran to find cover!

SWANYNGTON

My name is Roger Godberd. I was born in a small manor house at Swanyngton. I will tell the story of my early life, my time with Simon de Montfort and my life as a Robehod.

Shams - A Medieval Soldier Princess 

Content                                              Pg                                           Content                                              Pg

Introduction                                     2                                              Tutbury                                                98

Arjona                                                  3                                              Tunis                                                   114

Granada                                              6                                             Qarawiyyin                                     118

Sierra Nevada                                21                                            Cape Vert                                        121

Ishbiliyah                                          34                                            Algeciras                                          130

Pyrenees                                           40                                           Alhambra                                         136

Paris                                                     51                                           Home Village                                 138

Toulouse                                             71                                         Glossary                                            140                           

Toledo                                                  79                                          Bibliography                                   142

Murcia                                                 92

ARJONA

It was late in the evening, and darkness had set in. There was an eerie atmosphere hanging over the town. There were no dogs whimpering, no people shuffling. The horses did not neigh, blow, or nicker. Only the pale-coloured buildings betrayed the fact that the town was there. All the inhabitants wondered why it was so quiet? On the veranda of a castle tower, a seated man looked up from his book. The pitch-black sky was spattered with diamond white stars. Venus was sparkling brightly by the side of a blindingly white crescent moon. It looked as if it was being nipped by the claws of the crescent. The man wondered, ‘is this an auspicious night?’ Suddenly the air was slashed, like a scimitar through black silk. There was a piercing shriek! An almost blood curdling cry. The man wondered what it was. ‘Is it human or animal, a cat, a lamb at the halal, or a baby’s cry?’ The silence returned. He paused and listened for a while, and then looked back at his book. He was reading the quatrains of Omar Khayyam. He read on:

Ah Moon of my Delight that know’st no wain

The moon of heaven is rising once again

Oh, oft hereafter rising shall she look

Through this same garden after me – in vain  

Days change to nights, ere you were born, or I,

And on its business ever rolled the sky;

See you tread gently on this dust-perchance

’              Twas once the apple of some beauty’s eye.  (Fitzgerald, E (1909)

I am Shams, and that was the night that I was born! I don’t really know if this version of the event is true. In subsequent years, I was told the story many times by the ladies of the harem. One story said that on that day, the man’s first wife entered his apartment and gave him the news that a daughter had been born to Yewande.  That was my mother, she died two weeks after my birth. I was brought up in a harem, but became Muslim only in name. Raheem, one of the Emir's royal guards, trained me as a soldier, I fought many conflicts in France and  Andalusia and eventually ended up in the Basque country where I married. My husband died and later I became a spy in the court of Alfonso. I went to Engle land and met a man called Roger Godberd- a robehod! Eventually, I went on a quest to find my mother's birthplace in Cape Verde.

Blacwin - a Medieval Welsh Archer

 

         Chapter                                            Page                             Chapter                                            Page

INTRODUCTION                          3                                 GASCONY                                        142

BOUVINES                                        8                                 KENILWORTH                               166

STRIGUIL                                         12                                 THRENGSTONE                           177

LINCOLN                                         23                                 PERFEDDWLAD                          188

STRIGUIL                                         36                                 NOTTINGHAM                             200

LEINSTER                                        42                                 LONDON                                          206

CAERDYF                                        58                                HAMPOLE                                        222

NANTES                                           68                                CHESTERFIELD                             238

MONTGOMERY                          80                               KENILWORTH                                241

CHESTER?                                        85                               TUTBURY                                          244

KILKENNY                                       92                               RUTLAND                                         265

ANGELSEY                                      96                               LAUNDE                                             283

TICKHILL                                         112                            Glossary                                              314                       

IBSTOCK                                          117                            Welsh words                                    321

CHARNWOOD                            124                            Medieval Day Time                      323

LEICESTER                                      130                            Bibliography                                     323

 

BOUVINES

It was a cloudy sky that cast shadows on the battle field. Mostly it was gloomy. Two armies opposed each other. A man stood poised ready with his longbow, one end resting on the ground. He was amongst tens of others. He wore a grubby cream linen shirt, and grey draws. Over his shirt he had a green woollen tunic tied with a belt at the waist. He wore a bracer on the inside of his left arm. His was simple leather but many of his fellow men had ornately decorated ones. His helmet was rusted and battered, but good enough for the job. Tucked into his belt was a short sword. He did not have a shield. Most archers did without, they were an encumbrance and sometimes lost if they had to run. It was not common for archers to engage in hand-to-hand fighting. As he took up battle position, he wore no shoes. He had taken his turn shoes off, and they were now in a canvass bag tied behind him at his belt. Being barefoot allowed a better grip on the ground. It needed a lot of power to draw the bow string, and sometimes the archer often had to wait a short while for the order to fire. Steady footing was necessary! When the power of the bow was unleashed, the archer could feel the recoil; it caused the whole of his body to jolt. He could easily slip on muddy or unsteady ground. The archers were now at the ready. The enemy were Franks, commanded by King Philip Augustus. The man and his fellow archers were with William Longespée, Earl of Salisbury on behalf of King John who was allied to the Holy Roman Emperor Otto IV. John had conspired with Otto but did not attend the battle. The sky was grey with the occasional glint of sunlight peeping through the clouds. In the field before him stood hundreds of men looking like a swarm of wasps resting on the grass. Then a whistle was heard. Almost in unison a hundred arrows went into the sky, evidenced by a swishing sound as they climbed into the air.  They looked like a swarm of starlings rising. Then at their zenith they began to fall, forming an almost perfect elliptical arc. The swarm became silent, but was soon followed by the sound of dozens of men either screaming in pain or groaning at the onslaught. Horses were heard grunting as they were hit. 

My name is Blacwin; this is one of the stories that my father told us children many times.  I will tell you of my early life as a boy on the Welsh Marches, how I fought at Lincoln. Leinster, Nantes, and Cymru, my life as a journey man with my brother, before meeting Roger Godberd. How I became an outlaw and my final years as a Cannon Regular at Launde Priory.