To Murder a King

By J P Holdstock

'Your son, saved mine. I owe him more than my life and can only show my gratitude by giving him a life repayment.’ One simple act changed the path of Tom's life forever. These words spoken by the greatest knight in the realm catapulted Tom, a Saxon boy, into a world of castles, sword fighting, jousting and not having to worry about where to find his next meal. His exciting new way of life is put at risk when his Lord, William Marshal, is framed for murder and thrown into the dungeons of the Tower of London. Can Tom clear the innocent Marshal's name with the help of a squire, a crazy haired Welsh hunter and the Marshal's son? How high up does the conspiracy go? Who would want to murder a King.... Immerse yourself in Medieval England and learn about the feudal system, castles and kings. This adventure story is set in The Tower of London in the year 1199 and features real historical figures that lived in England and built the society we have today. If you don't know why 'bad' King John signed the Magna Carta or which knight beat Richard the Lionheart in a joust, then start your journey here.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J P Holdstock
• Release date: Oct 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370224524

J P Holdstock

I have a passion for history and I'd like to share that especially with young people. So pick up your sword, axe, needle, quill and join me in living medieval times and adventures!

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To Murder a King: A Squire's Tale

J P Holdstock

To Murder a King: A Squire's Tale

Copyright © 2016 by J P Holdstock

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

To the most important thing I have,

My family

Author's note

Historical novels have the benefit of being able to draw on amazing characters that actually existed and built the world and culture we live in today. Sadly, we cannot interview or meet them to find out their views or what they were really like (until we build a time machine). We can rely on tidbits of information that chroniclers wrote at the time but even those will be influenced by a point of view.

In this novel there appear many characters that actually lived in England in the year 1199, they are listed on the final pages. This list is mainly there for reference as during the story they may be referred to by a shortened version of their name or their title which can get quite confusing. If you find any of these characters particularly interesting then there are many sources for you to find out more about them.

I have used information from historians and chroniclers to base the characters on but have then added my own interpretation for a more colourful tale. So please don't judge the historical figure by their actions in this tale.

They would have spoken Norman French at court and English at other times. I have tried to explain in the text when they are doing this but to convey the story the language is largely modernised. Where I have used words that have fallen out of common usage I have included them in a glossary at the end of the book.

As you are reading and hopefully immersing yourself in what medieval England was like, please remember that whilst this is a story, it could have happened......

The Royal Succession (Abbreviated)

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Author’s Note

Royal Succession 1066 – 1199 (present ruler)

Chapter One, The Tower

Chapter Two, The Tilt

Chapter Three, The Champion

Chapter Four, The Trail

Chapter Five, The Tradesmen

Chapter Six, The Feast

Chapter Seven, The Royal Presence

Chapter Eight, The Ins and Outs

Chapter Nine, The Passageway

Chapter Ten, The Scuffle

Chapter Eleven, The Fiery Bull

Chapter Twelve, The Oath

Chapter Thirteen, The Procession

Chapter Fourteen, The Grand Melee

Chapter Fifteen, The Squire

Glossary of historical terms

King’s council and relatives

Charities you have funded

About the Author

- Chapter One -

The Tower

Tom couldn't believe he was going to London. What's more, he was going to stay in the grounds of the Tower of London. Tom was a mere Saxon, certainly not one of the most important people around. Perhaps even the least! If a Saxon angered one of the Norman lords terrible things could happen to them, punishments worse than death, Tom had heard. So it was every Saxon's job to try and stay out of the way of the Normans and say 'yes sir', 'anything you want sir' when given orders. Unfortunately, Tom wasn't very good at this. As much as his mother told him not to get in the way, or leave the Norman's and their riding and hunting parties alone he couldn't help that he found them fascinating and that his curiosity made him follow them and watch from afar.

Now, in the winter of 1199, he was on the way to the Tower where almost everyone was Norman and most definitely more important than him. The Tower was one of the first Norman castles, and certainly the grandest according to William. William, was the son of William Marshal, one of the most revered knights and certainly a powerful man in the country. William had been to London before, even though he was younger than Tom by a year but he didn't have to worry about getting in the way as he was an albeit young, Norman lord and son to one of the most powerful barons. Whilst his father gave the young William a certain amount of social armour, this didn't extend to Tom.

The moment that Tom met William had changed his whole life. It was in the spring of that year, in the local cheaping which was where the town came together to buy and sell things. Tom had been helping his mother sell her leather wares. Tom's mother was a skilled craftswoman. Mostly she helped out doing odd jobs cooking for the community and working in the fields but sometimes she had a chance to get her hands on pieces of leather and made beautiful items with patterns on them that she could sell to passing knights, nobles and occasionally merchants, but she rarely got good prices for them. Tom imagined that she was hoping one of the knights or nobles would ask her to craft her patterns on all of their leather and pay her lots of money for her work. Unfortunately, cheaping after cheaping they went home with only a little money which Tom's mother used to treat them to some nice food rather than pottage which was oats with whatever leftovers there were, added to it and boiled for days. It was rather bland even though Tom's mother insisted it was good for him. This was why Tom assumed that things that were good for you did not usually taste nice and could be rather boring.

This cheaping though, something happened that changed everything for Tom. The land they lived on belonged to William Marshal, a very high up and successful knight of the realm. It's said, the only man to have defeated Richard the Lion-heart, who later became King, in a joust! Tom was only ten years old but he knew that William Marshal was a great knight and part of him was proud to live in the part of the world where he could catch glimpses of the Marshal when he was training, by hiding in hay or behind carts. Even though he was apparently a fifty year old man he didn't seem that way and he certainly didn't move that way when in training. Every couple of weeks the cheaping met outside Striguil castle, the Marshal's home, and Tom and his mother would travel down in the hope that the Marshal would be entertaining other rich knights that would buy pretty leather-ware. Tom would play with some of the other children of the village pretending to be rich, chivalrous Norman knights using sticks rather than steel swords and making the sound of horses. He was doing just this when from the gates of the castle came shouting and as Tom turned to see what this was, a huge black speeding horse burst out of the gates with a small rider who seemed to be clinging on for dear life! It was the biggest horse that Tom had ever seen and was galloping full tilt. He had seen horses bolt before but judging by its size, this horse must have been some kind of warhorse and had already reached a blistering pace.

What happened next, was a decision for Tom that he didn't even remember making, as he reacted instinctively. The hulking warhorse had obviously been upset by something and had bolted with the young Lord William Marshal's son William clinging on for dear life. Tom could see that the horse, if it carried on its current path would run out of track and might end up in the river. The horse was getting nearer so Tom climbed up onto the ledge of the building that he was leaning against and just in time he leapt, totally abandoning all thought of not getting in the way of the Normans. He hadn't had time to work this plan out but his intention was to shout to the young lord, inform him of his peril and provide an arm or hand for him to grab onto so he could safely dismount. What actually happened was that he pushed off the ledge, managed to gain a significant height whilst screaming at the young lord before they clashed in mid air.

Tom had felt like he would never breathe again. What was wrong, why couldn't he breathe let alone speak? Had the scream taken all of the air from his lungs? Before he knew it there were people around both him and the young Lord and they were all shouting loudly, presumably they wanted to offer Tom one of the punishments his mother had warned him about as in terms of not getting in the way of the Norman lords he had failed tremendously. Tom's mother was there and was trying to get to him but was stopped by armed men in leather armour and some chain mail. He had really done it. He seemed to have incurred the wrath of the whole town! Then he heard a voice that cut through all the noise and had such power that silence followed. William Marshal was standing there, a grand silhouette against the sky. But instead of stabbing him with his sword, blinding him, chopping off a leg or an arm, he offered Tom his hand to help him up. He also picked up his son William and put them both on a grassy hill. No one, not even Tom's mother dared cross the Marshal who was lord of the town. Tom expected the Marshal to berate him and possibly execute him for attacking his son. He still couldn't find any breath to feed words of explanation to try and weasel his way out of it, not that it ever worked with his mother. The Marshal checked his son, calmly, and apart from being winded as well, seemed fine and calm. Then he turned to Tom, and simply hugged him! Tom could not remember ever being hugged by a man but far from what he expected it was a calm and tender hug.

‘You saved my son’ said the Marshal to Tom. He had known exactly why Tom had leapt recklessly at his son.

‘Er, Yes my lord’ were the only words that Tom could muster at the time. He had never spoken to anyone more important than the tavern landlord before, let alone a Baron of the realm, mostly through fear and worry that he might say the wrong thing.

‘Look.’ The Marshal said as he gestured toward the scene further down the track where there was a crowd at the edge of the river. The horse must have slipped on the muddy bank and fallen in the river. Whilst the river was not particularly fast flowing there had been wooden boards where the horse had fallen and in its panic it had knocked itself against them. There was little hope of retrieving the horse and with his gesturing hand, the Marshal signalled to a scraggly looking man with a hedge of red beard and a long bow who, as fast as you could imagine shot two arrows into the horse.

‘That was one of my finest warhorses but he was as good as dead when he fell in the river. He knocked himself out and there isn't time to organise a crane or pulley to lift him out. It’s the kindest thing to do.’ The Marshal explained.

‘Where is your mother?’ The Marshal asked and before Tom could think of how to reply his mother had thrown herself at him, hugging and mollycoddling him. The Marshal continued with words that would change Tom's life,

‘Your son, saved mine. I owe him more than my life and can only show my gratitude by giving him a life repayment.’ It was obvious that Tom's mother realised that this was a good thing but was still confused as to what exactly it meant.

‘My castle estate needs a leatherworker and my son, clearly needs a squire to look after him.’ The Marshal stated as he glanced at his son, not in anger, but in relief.

From that point, Tom and his mother moved in to the Castle grounds and lived with the other workers. There was always good food and many jobs to do and Tom became the young Williams Page. Every day he leapt out of bed, even knowing that he would have to groom horses, shovel muck, fetch water and perform any task that anyone senior to him asked him to, which was basically every person and most of the animals inside the castle! Despite the boring and mucky tasks, he spent time with the young lord practicing fighting with wooden swords, learning how to fire arrows, riding daily, learning Norman French and could even now read a few words of Latin. He dressed more like a Norman now and even had his own steel dagger made in the castle forge that was the length from his fingertips to his elbow. He kept it sharp, carried it everywhere on his belt and used it for everything including eating and whittling wooden sticks. Tom's mother seemed happier too. Tom was glad that his mother had people to look after her as his father was not around. Tom had never met his father but didn't like asking his mother about him because he felt that it made her sad. It was one of the only things that curbed Tom's strong sense of curiosity, along with the threat of what punishment Normans might dream up for him should he get in the way. What he did know was that his parents had been happy together but his father had moved away. He supposed it was comforting to know that his father was out there somewhere. Many of the other village children had lost their fathers in the skirmishes that occurred every now and then between the Welsh and the Normans. He was sure, at least, that his father would be proud that he had helped look after his mother by having them moved into the safety of the castle. He looked forward every day to meeting his father and how he could tell him all the things that would swell him with pride. It was a hope that pushed him to do his best.

Now he had ridden over a hundred miles from where he lived, further than he could have imagined and was looking at the magnificent castle where the King of England lived. As they came out of the woodland and approached the top of the hill, what opened up before Tom was an incredible sight. Tom had seen views from hilltops before over land and sea but this was something else. Where there would be fields and forest there were buildings and rooftops. He could see down the river Thames and see the famous London Bridge right in front of him. He had never seen such a large bridge. It had so many buildings on it that he wondered if it housed more people than the village he came from.

He could barely see the river surface for the crowd of boats on it. There were small boats ferrying passengers across and large boats crossing their tracks. He couldn't understand how they weren't colliding. The riverfront on the North side was lined with Towers and small Castles. Then behind them there were more buildings than Tom could count up to, and he could actually count quite high as the weapons master had been teaching him so that he was able to coordinate mock ambushes when the young William was being taught battle skills.

In the city, where there would have been haystacks in a field, there were tall buildings, all as tall as the churches where he was from. The churches here were even bigger than in Wales and themselves towered over the sea of rooftops as if the crests of waves in a storm, looking down in judgement but also as shepherds overseeing their flock. As his gaze darted around he saw the biggest church which must have been St Paul's Cathedral, twice the height of any other church and taking up four times as much space.

As Tom looked over the rooftops and spires he spotted the crown of the city, the Tower of London. Tom could clearly make out the walls around it and the keep, home of the King and stronghold of England. The Tower rose like a mountain, strong and immovable. It looked impenetrable, as if a thousand warriors wouldn't be able to bring it down. It was separated from the city by a moat that only certain people, usually Norman, had the privilege to cross. Today, Tom was being granted that privilege.

As Tom stood admiring the view of London from the top of the hill, marvelling at the amount of people, boats and the magnificent Tower, he noticed a rider approaching at full speed. This man was obviously a very accomplished rider and was dressed in a rather bright and grand, red squire’s surcoat with three gold lions across it.

‘They're the King's colours.’ Hugh said, as the rider drew nearer. If a warrior, guard or herald worked for the King then he would wear the King's symbols. This marked him out as the King's messenger and no doubt meant people didn't trouble him with small matters.

Hugh de Picton was the Marshal's squire. He seemed everything that Tom thought a squire should be, fast and strong, a quick learner, but most of all, loyal. Hugh could always be counted on to carry out his masters orders immediately and only afterwards he might question them so he could better understand and anticipate the Marshal's wishes. He was quite tall and rather lean which seemed to allow him to move faster as if cutting through the air. He was not physically the strongest squire, but his strength of mind shone through and Tom thought this was how the Marshal picked his allies. Tom wanted to be a squire just like that for the younger William, only Hugh had thick locks of blonde hair that sat above his face while Tom had plain Brown hair.

The rider slowed down as he approached the group, the horse’s hooves slipping in the dirt because of the force that was being exerted. The horse was a well groomed black courser and Tom was surprised to see such a fine horse delivering messages. Out of Tom, William and Hugh, The rider locked eyes on Hugh and rode straight up to him, giving Tom the chance to blend into the background and not be noticed.

‘De Picton.’ He said in a slightly familiar but rushed greeting.

Hugh replied, again familiarly but could sense there was some urgency.

‘What is it Gerard?’

‘I have a message from the Marshal.’ The rider stated.

‘Speak, you are among his friends and servants.’ Hugh urged him.

‘Well firstly, I've been bid to tell you that you're very late! The jousting will start at midday and the Marshal has been drawn in an early slot.’

‘That seems to be good news at least.’ Hugh replied. ‘The Marshal likes to compete early.’

‘I'm not finished,’ continued the rider in a slightly more sombre tone as he tilted his head forward and continued in a quieter voice. ‘Secondly, the Marshal's opponent has not been drawn, but ordered.’ Hugh immediately responded but he was visibly confused

‘But only the King can 'order' a joust, it's the way of Chivalry.’

‘That’s just it,’ continued the rider, ‘King John did order it, with himself as the opponent.’

Hugh's mouth fell open, as did the young William's. Tom could tell this was surprising news even if he wasn't sure why.

With that news, Hugh spurred the group on with all speed, the horses were tired but they need not spare them as the jousting horses