The Archer's Gold: Medieval Military fiction: A Novel about Wars, Knights, Pirates, and Crusaders in The Years of the Feudal Middle Ages of William Marshall ... (The Company of English Archers Book 7) by Martin Archer Page A
Authors: Martin Archer
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Windsor is huge and impressive as we come around the edge of a grove of trees and see it in the distance on top of a hill. It's been a long ride and my wet arse is aching. But at least I've had a chance to think about what I should tell the king - not much.
Sir William is well known to the guards and we pass through the castle gate without even slowing down. And then it happens - as we ride up the steeply inclined path from the gate to the keep above us my horse somehow slips on the wet cobblestones and goes down with a heavy thud and a horse scream.
My panicked horse struggles to her feet and bolts away to the side and then downhill towards the gate with one of Sir William's riders hot on her heels; I, on the other hand stay down with painful twisted ankle and my miter goes flying.
I stay down until a very solicitous Sir William and several of his men quickly dismount and help me to my feet - and I can only stand on one leg if I lean on my crosier. The other is numb and can't take the weight.
"Are you all right, Bishop? Can you stand?" he asks as one of his men hands me my miter and they all try to steady me while I clap it back on my head.
Twenty minutes later Sir William and his men are gone and I'm sitting on a stool in a little room in the keep.
After a while a dirty and incredibly smelly old monk claiming to be a barber and bonesetter is clucking over my damn painful ankle and sagely telling me what I already know - it's badly bruised and sprained.
My God, he must be one of those monks I've heard about who think Jesus never wiped his arse so they shouldn't either. Why would they ever think that?
@@@@@
My mood is foul and I start to say something to the monk a bishop would rarely say. That's when the king walks in with William Marshal and a half dozen or so of his courtiers trailing behind.
I try most manfully to get to my feet - and end up hopping a couple of times on my good leg and sitting back down while my miter falls off and hits the floor. What an embarrassment.
I think the king started to laugh but caught himself and put on a grave face instead.
"Please sit, Bishop. You have our permission under the circumstances." ...."I understand your horse went out from under you on the cobblestones; are you sufficiently gathered to speak with us?"
"Thank you, Your Majesty; you do me great honor by inquiring about my unexpected and sad condition. I am at your service and yours to command in any way you wish."
Lay the ox shit on with a trowel whenever you're with royalty; that's my advice. They think they deserve it though only God knows why.
@@@@@
"Sir William here has told me some of your news, Bishop Thomas, and I have, of course, read your letter and know you are close to the Earl of Cornwall as his religious advisor. What can you tell me about the events in Devon? You were there weren't you?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, I was there - and I saw God's work being done right before my eyes. If I hadn't seen it with my very own eyes I would not have believed it, Your Majesty. Your enemies rode their horses straight on to the stakes of the Earl's archers."
"It is undoubtedly the result of the God looking so favorably upon you and, of course, the Pope's special prayers that the Earl and his men not be stopped or slowed in their efforts to assist the pilgrims and refugees in the Holy Land."
"And Lady Isabella of Gloucester?"
"Happily married to a crusader your Majesty and all recorded proper-like in the local parish.
Then I charged on.
"No doubt her marriage to Lord Courtenay is God's will as well - since it provided God's validation of her annulment and enabled the earl to buy Oakhampton so he can block any attack on your
Sir William is well known to the guards and we pass through the castle gate without even slowing down. And then it happens - as we ride up the steeply inclined path from the gate to the keep above us my horse somehow slips on the wet cobblestones and goes down with a heavy thud and a horse scream.
My panicked horse struggles to her feet and bolts away to the side and then downhill towards the gate with one of Sir William's riders hot on her heels; I, on the other hand stay down with painful twisted ankle and my miter goes flying.
I stay down until a very solicitous Sir William and several of his men quickly dismount and help me to my feet - and I can only stand on one leg if I lean on my crosier. The other is numb and can't take the weight.
"Are you all right, Bishop? Can you stand?" he asks as one of his men hands me my miter and they all try to steady me while I clap it back on my head.
Twenty minutes later Sir William and his men are gone and I'm sitting on a stool in a little room in the keep.
After a while a dirty and incredibly smelly old monk claiming to be a barber and bonesetter is clucking over my damn painful ankle and sagely telling me what I already know - it's badly bruised and sprained.
My God, he must be one of those monks I've heard about who think Jesus never wiped his arse so they shouldn't either. Why would they ever think that?
@@@@@
My mood is foul and I start to say something to the monk a bishop would rarely say. That's when the king walks in with William Marshal and a half dozen or so of his courtiers trailing behind.
I try most manfully to get to my feet - and end up hopping a couple of times on my good leg and sitting back down while my miter falls off and hits the floor. What an embarrassment.
I think the king started to laugh but caught himself and put on a grave face instead.
"Please sit, Bishop. You have our permission under the circumstances." ...."I understand your horse went out from under you on the cobblestones; are you sufficiently gathered to speak with us?"
"Thank you, Your Majesty; you do me great honor by inquiring about my unexpected and sad condition. I am at your service and yours to command in any way you wish."
Lay the ox shit on with a trowel whenever you're with royalty; that's my advice. They think they deserve it though only God knows why.
@@@@@
"Sir William here has told me some of your news, Bishop Thomas, and I have, of course, read your letter and know you are close to the Earl of Cornwall as his religious advisor. What can you tell me about the events in Devon? You were there weren't you?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, I was there - and I saw God's work being done right before my eyes. If I hadn't seen it with my very own eyes I would not have believed it, Your Majesty. Your enemies rode their horses straight on to the stakes of the Earl's archers."
"It is undoubtedly the result of the God looking so favorably upon you and, of course, the Pope's special prayers that the Earl and his men not be stopped or slowed in their efforts to assist the pilgrims and refugees in the Holy Land."
"And Lady Isabella of Gloucester?"
"Happily married to a crusader your Majesty and all recorded proper-like in the local parish.
Then I charged on.
"No doubt her marriage to Lord Courtenay is God's will as well - since it provided God's validation of her annulment and enabled the earl to buy Oakhampton so he can block any attack on your
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