Beausire: A Tale of Medieval Times

By Philip Brisse-Kenyon

The story is set mid 14th Century when England was periodically at war with both the French and the Scots. The 100 Years War.

The hero is Sir Philip Beausire, Earl (Lord) of Carleston together with his brother Charles and other companion knights, and takes place in both England and France..

Other than his support for King and Country against both the French (Calais, 1347 and Poitiers 1356) and the Scots (Nevilles Cross), at home his sworn enemies are Sir Ralph Pendalby (Black Ralph also known as the wolf), Jean de Corbeau and their associates. The dreaded plague, the Black Death features briefly.

In true knightly fashion he rescues a lady in distress, who happens to be the sister of his arch enemy (and later marries her).

He himself is brought near to death and is in turn rescued and restored to health by a peasant woman.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 18, 2006
• ISBN: 9781467016339

Philip Brisse-Kenyon

Uneventful early years including time in an orphanage unitl mid-teens. Conscripted into the British Army during WWII at 18, saw service in Europe during the war including taking part in the Normandy Landings (June 1944) at 19 and ending up in Germany. He returned to France (Calais) and served there until release in August 1948. Finding civilian life somewhat dull after the excitement of the war years he reenlisted to the Army (Royal Engineers) and spent the next 26 years in a widely travelled and interesting career in unusual one off appointments including the Royal West African Frontier Force (in Accra, Gold Coast/now Ghana) with the renowned Gurkhas in India (2 years) and later in Malaya (2 more years) and the last overseas posting with the HKMSC (Chinese soldiers) in Hong Kong (3 years) interspersed with two tours of duty in Germany. During this time he progressed from Driver/Private Soldier through the non- commissioned ranks until being commissioned as a Lieutenant and finally retiring as a Major. After time working with the Inland Revenue he was re-employed by the Defence Ministry as a Staff Officer (Movement Plans) during the Cold War period, retiring from this last in 1986. Since that time he has been occupied with DIY signs of which are evident throughout the house and gardening which has seen frequent innovations, pond, arches etc. He is married to a French girl who he met immediately after war. They have two daughters, one adopted, three grandchildren and three great grandchildren. The novel, Beausire (not the original name) was started many years ago but abandoned due to pressure of work etc., taken up recently and finished.

Book preview

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive, Suite 200

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

500 Avebury Boulevard

Central Milton Keynes, MK9 2BE

www.authorhouse.co.uk

Phone: [phone]

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations

are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual

persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

© 2006 Philip Brisse-Kenyon. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in

a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means

without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 10/11/2006

ISBN: 1-4259-4534-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-1633-9 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

1

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

24.

25.

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

A Message From

The Author Of Beausire.

1

THE WOLF

ON A CERTAIN BALMY SPRING AFTERNOON in the year of grace, 1345, the sun shone gently on the Keep of Appley and a slight breeze from the Epping Forest stirred occasionally the banner of the Devers family which otherwise drooped listlessly on its staff. \beneath the ensign of the Red Bull on its field of blue and gold, a man-at-arms leaned nonchalantly against a section of the battlemented walls, apparently lost in thought. Such was the scene of peace……….

The clink of metal on stone caused the watcher to leap up and gaze searchingly at the forest which grew to within two hundred yards of Keep. His eye caught the flash of the sun on burnished metal and away to the west at some distance sounded the mournful note of a mediaeval hunting horn. It was answered as a blast from the watcher’s own horn echoed and re-echoed round the walls of the old castle. Men-at-arms and archers emerged from their quarters and began to take up their places along the battlements.

A party of mounted men broke cover from the nearest clump of trees and advanced in stately fashion across the greensward. The suns rays caught and lit up the bright armour and brilliant heraldic colours of the various coats-of-arms but not withstanding the splendour of the scene, the figure of the leader stood out in its simplicity. No suns reflection shone from the dull black armour and only grey plumes ornamented the richly wrought helmet and visor. The black leather of the harness and saddle only served to enhance the beauty of the enormous white stallion which he rode. Beneath the shadow cast by his visor a pair of steely grey eyes took in all that passed about him and the young, tanned face bore the scars of battle. Although still in his twenties Phillip Beausire, Earl of Carleston had already earned himself the title of Le Sanglier the wild boar which was depicted in hiscoat of arms. With spacious lands in England and France, the Earl had to divide his time between the two countries during the troublesome times when both countries were over populated with land grabbing nobles and were from time to time at war from one reason or another. His presence was frequently required in one or the other to protect his properties from these raveners. Now on this spring day he was proceeding on an errand of retribution.

A certain Sir Ralph Pendalby, locally known as Black Ralph by the oppressed peasantry, had sadly mistreated an esquire of the Earl’s entourage and this was an affront to the Earl himself. In spite of warnings about Sir Ralph's power and the numbers of his retainers, Phillip had gathered together several knights and with these and about a hundred men-at-arms he had set out to do justice.

The Keep of Appley afforded an excellent stopover on the way to Pendalby Castle and it was here that the party was spend the night.

Meanwhile inside the castle all was astir as the Seneschal urged the servitors to greater efforts in preparing to receive the approaching company. As the clatter of hooves sounded on the drawbridge. Sir Arnold Devers appeared from his quarters. One glance sufficed to reveal the heavy Norman strain in the Devers blood With his jet black hair, he was darkly magnificent in the rich tunic of red velour ornamented with gold wiring, and a pale blue cloak bordered with the fur of the marmot.

He descended the steps to the main entrance followed by the Seneschal and two esquires. Already dusk had fallen and the courtyard was lit by blazing pine torches in their sconces around the inner wall and augmented by the flaming brands carried in the hands of servitors. When Devers appeared on the scene several of the knights assisted by their own men, had ahead)' dismounted and some were approaching the steps with the Earl in the lead.

Devers made a slight bow as the Earl reached the steps and bid him enter and enjoy the hospitality of the castle. The usual chivalrous greetings were exchanged between the parties and all made their way into the great hall.

In the main fireplace huge logs crackled and spluttered in the flames for the evenings of early spring were exceedingly chilly. Around the hail the pine torches flickered fitfully and cast their light on the magnificent tapestries which adorned the walls.

Down the centre of the floor a huge pine table groaned under the weight of victuals, the best that the kitchens and cellars of Appley could provide. Set obliquely to this a smaller table formed a T with it and was on a slightly raised platform. Although not so heavily laden as the larger table it contained all the choicer morsels likely to please the palates of the guests of highest rank.

At the lower end of the hall, esquires and pages were relieving their masters of their armour and carrying bowls of scented water and napkins among them to remove the stains of travel. As the knights completed their toilet they made their way to the tables and were assigned to places by the Seneschal, according to their rank or status. Soon all were seated and eating ravenously, washing down the viands and pastries with copious draughts of wine.

The Earl sat in the place of honour at the centre of the small table and facing down the length of the large one. To his right sat Sir Arnold Devers, his host, and Sir John Somers, a knight as young as Phillip himself and ever a faithful companion. To his left sat Baron Raoul DeBrocke who was Master of the Earl's household and had known him since childhood. He it was who had taught him the use of arms and knightly comportment. He was an ageing veteran but still a capable soldier and leader of men.

At the large table, English, French and Normans of the two house holds mixed together. Soon ample justice had been done to the board and with the breaching of further wine casks the main group assumed a merry air.

At the smaller table however, seriousness pervaded and as Baron DeBrocke spoke at length, Sir Arnold Devers stirred impatiently in his seat and gazed uneasily about him. The Earl and DeBrocke closed together in a moment of earnest conversation and Devers, signalling discreetly with his hand, caught the eye of someone standing just inside a curtained alcove. He gave an imperceptible nod with his head and the person slipped unobtrusively away. Devers turned once more and rejoined the general conversation. As the faint cry of the watchman calling the midnight hour came to their ears, De Brocke stood up and beat loudly on the table with a heavy wine tankard commanding silence. Then in a few sharp words with regard to the business of the morrow, he dismissed the company to their various quarters. The Earl and their host did not tarry overlong afterwards before they too, sought their beds and soon the Keep was enshrouded in silence.

Hardly had the watchman's cry announcing the second hour of morning died away, when the silence was disturbed by the creaking of a postern gate.

A single figure walked his horse slowly across a light plank bridge across the moat at the rear of the Keep. Once on the grass verge he quickly mounted and urging his horse forward was soon swallowed up in the blackness of the forest. Once in the cover of the forest, the rider reigned his horse and stopped, taking a quick look back at the Keep. All was still. He turned round and urged his horse forward once more. A plae moon shone through the branches of the trees as the rider rode with great haste down the forest trail bending low or swaying in his saddle alternately to avoid the branches which whipped past him. Thirty minutes ride brought him to a hard track of beaten clay and along this the rider urged his sweating horse, rowelling savagely with his spurs, to bring the beast to greater efforts.

The moon now shone fully on the rider and revealed him to be young but his dissipated looks spoke of years of easy, immoral life. His swarthy features and raven hair suited well to the night as did his garments which were of rich black velvet He was a night bird as his name betokened. Sire Jean Corbeau, the Crow. A true Norman this, he hated the Anglo-Saxon race and worked only for its destruction.

Corbeau now left the beaten track and his horse's hooves drummed along the turf of Pendalby Moor. As he rode on and on in the dim light he passed the gutted shells of burnt out cottages at ever decreasing intervals. They were the hallmarks of Pendalby country. Somewhere in the forest even at this moment were the homeless families of serfs who cursed the very name of Pendalby and its overlord. Black Ralph, but what cared Corbeau? As he topped a slight rise in the ground the rider saw the turrets of Pendalby castle, grim and forbidding in the grey light of early dawn. As minutes passed, the rider could dimly make out the flapping banner of Pendalby with its Wolfs head on a blood red field. It might almost have been real blood in the early light of dawn. The rider paused a moment as if arrested by the scene, then with a furious Norman curse, he clapped spurs to his horse and rode for the drawbridge.

From the watchtower a horn sounded and the approaching rider could make out the helmets of the men-at-arms in the early sunlight as they took up their places near the main gate.

The drawbridge was lowered and a knight followed by several mounted men rode towards the newcomer. Corbeau reigned in and waited for the others to approach. The knight rode up to him and demanded to know his business.

I am Sire Jean de Corbeau and I have urgent affairs with Sir Ralph and must see him at once. The other replied, You may enter Sir Knight but Sir Ralph must not be disturbed before noon.

The Crow eyed him sardonically and demanded Have you not heard of Le Sanglier? The knight from Pendalby paled visibly. Le Sanglier! he muttered hoarsely and then swinging his horse round he signalled the others to follow him and with Corbeau by his side, rode back to the Keep.

2.

THE WOLF’S LAIR

PENDALBY CASTLE STOOD ON A NARROW prom-ontory which jutted out into Pendalby Bay thus it was protected by the sea protected on three sides and on the remaining side a deep man made moat caused it to be almost inaccessible except by the drawbridge. Built some hundred and fifty years earlier, the castle consisted of two square buildings one inside the other. The outer square had four walls about forty feet high and one hundred and fifty yards in length being joined at each corner by a round tower which overlooked the length of the adjoining walls. At the centre of the wall on the land side stood the barbican with its six foot thick walls of granite and inside this the drawbridge and portcullis which gave access to the land. The inner building was formed on much the same lines as the outer wall but without the comer turrets and was higher than the outer wall to enable the defenders to overlook the outer walls in the event of these being taken by an enemy. A second, smaller ditch surrounded the inner stronghold which, with its own barbican, could be become independent of the rest.

Sir Ralph Pendalby, his family and fellow knights, lived in the inner castle where there was also quartered a selected company of men-at-arms. The remaining soldiers and servants were housed in barrack-like dwellings beneath the shelter of the outer wall.

At the time of Corbeau's arrival, Sir Ralph was stomping up and down the large tappestried chamber which served him and hiscompanions as a general meeting place. Three other men who were sat at a small table drawn up by the fireplace were listening to his tirade. It was obvious from their garments that they were men of quality. The young devil, stormed Sir Ralph, he went out against my orders. He went on, The fool should know that this is no time for petty raids and sorties. He continued, We need ail our strength for the graver vents which are imminent.

A timid knock sounded on the door. Enter, roared Sir Ralph. The Seneschal entered and after making an obeisance, said "A strange knight demands to see you, my Lord and insists that his business is urgent He speaks of Le Sanglier. Sir Ralph's jaw set into a grim line and he bid the Seneschal to bring in the knight.

Sire Jean de Corbeau entered and after treating Sir Ralph to a slight bow, he looked significantly towards the seated knights. Sir Ralph spoke first, Sacre bleu, Jean, I haven't seen you since we fought side by side near Orleans, against the White Duke. Ayes and lost, the other responded bitterly, However, he continued, I am here on different matters now, he lowered his voice, Phillip Beausire is on his way here to avenge the alleged insult to his honour and the sufferings of Gamelin Aveyard his favourite esquire whom you caused to be flogged not three weeks past, for thieving deer in your forest.

Sir Ralph laughed. Does he think he is Master here, also?. He went on, Tell me, how many men does he have with him and when can we expect to see them?. The other answered, He rides with several knights and esquires and about a hundred men-at-arms. Black Ralph's thunderous laughter drowned the following sentence concerning the projected arrival of the adversary. However, after the bout of laughter Sir Ralph became serious and he called for the officer of the guard.

On arrival of the latter he was given detailed instructions concerning the number of men manning the battlements and the keeping of an intensive watch for the impending arrival of Beausire. Two hours went by.

Suddenly the castle was stirred to life by the sound of a hunting horn. Pendalby hurried down to the main hall followed by Corbeau and the other knights. All had donned their armour and were completely accoutred for a fight.

In the main hall they were met by the officer of the guard. Well! Who or what is it? demanded the irate Pendalby. It looks like your brother, my Lord responded the other. What do you mean, it looks like my brother? Either it is or it isn't, you've been here long enough to know. The officer muttered something, saluted and left the hall.

They bad reached the courtyard steps by the time the hunting party rode in through the barbican. Suddenly Corbeau excitedly nudged Sir Ralph's arm. Look you? Why has brother James got his hands behind his back?. Oddsblood swore Sir Ralph but even as he raised his voice shouting the alarm, a rider darted away from James Peodalby's side and cut down the two men-at-arms by the drawbridge winches while the remainder of the invading party attacked the guards who were now running to the scene from all directions. James Pendalby urged his horse forward and quickly joined his brother. The latter cut his bonds snarling all the while. You young fool! What happened?

The other replied, I was out foraging with a party of our men when we were suddenly ambushed and overpowered by some knights and men-at-arms led by Sir John Somers. All right said Sir Ralph, Now do what you can to undo your folly, And he went on, By my troth! This time Beausire has bitten off more than he can chew. The barbican and outer courtyard now rang to the clash of arms and rising above the din of combat, shouts of A Beausire, Ho Sanglier or A Pendalby rallied the fighters to their respective leaders or guided them to a point of attack.