Flodden, p.1
Flodden, page 1
Flodden
Book 3 in the Tudor Warrior series.
By
Griff Hosker
Published by Sword Books Ltd 2023
Copyright ©Griff Hosker First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Thanks to Design for Writers for the cover and logo.
Dedication
To another new bairn come into the family, Sophia Craggs, welcome, little one.
Contents
Flodden
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Glossary
Historical Background
Other books by Griff Hosker
Historical characters
King Henry VII of England
Cardinal Wolsey
King Henry VIII of England
Queen Elizabeth (Woodville)
Jasper Tudor- Duke of Bedford and the uncle of King Henry VII
Margaret Beaufort- wife of the Earl of Derby and mother of King Henry VII
Margaret of York, the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy
Richard de la Pole- the last claimant to the Yorkist/Plantagenet crown
King Philip of Castile-Lord of the Netherlands and Duke of Burgundy
Sir Thomas Howard, - Earl of Surrey and later Duke of Norfolk
Sir Edmund Howard- His son
Sir Thomas Howard, Lord Admiral and the son of the Earl of Surrey
Lord Thomas Stanley- 1st Earl of Derby
Sir Edward Stanley, 1st Baron Monteagle-son of the 1st Earl of Derby
Sir Thomas Stanley, 2nd Earl of Derby- Son of the 1st Earl of Derby
King Louis XII of France
Sir Henry Clifford- Lord of Craven
King James IV of Scotland
Donald Dubh -Lord of the Isles
Lord Huntly- A Scottish noble
Lord Home- a Scottish Border lord
John ‘Bastard’ Heron of Ford- a Northumbrian knight
Sir Robert Kerr- a Scottish Border lord
Sir Marmaduke Constable – Sherriff of Yorkshire
Pope Leo X
Pope Julius II
Prologue
Ecclestone 1512
I am James of Ecclestone and no longer the wild child who had run away to join a company of billmen. I became a captain of billmen then a landowner. I served King Henry as I had served his father, the old King Henry. I had returned from my last efforts on behalf of the young king and his cardinal and I had buried my old friend Sir Edward. He had fought one battle too many and although his end was glorious it was not the end I would have chosen. He had allowed himself to become old and unfit. Both states were inevitable but Sir Edward had decided to serve the king and he died because of it. The former man at arms, elevated to the rank of knight had left his fortune to Sam, Stephen, Ned and to me. The king had given his manor of Hedingham to a new favourite but Sir Edward had been a successful warrior and he left a fortune. Added to my pay as a Captain of Billmen and my success as a farmer I was a rich man and, in a perfect world, I would have enjoyed the fruits of my labours and the good fortune which God had bestowed upon me. Soon I would have seen forty summers and that was when a man put away his billhook and spoke, instead, to old comrades in arms in the local inn. I knew that I was not destined for such a life. I had skills that the king and now the cardinal could use. I could speak French and Flemish. I could pass for a lord and, most important of all, I knew how to survive in a nest of vipers.
When I had returned it had been with the last of Sir Edward’s men at arms, Ralf. He had asked if he could serve me and be trained by me. He had seen, when we had fought in the shadow of Ford Castle, that he still had much to learn. I liked him and we had room in my hall. I felt I owed Sir Edward something for, despite his end, he had been the one who had changed my fortune. Jane, my wife, was a kind soul and she enjoyed having the young warrior around. My sons thought well of him for he was not far from being a knight. A brave deed on the battlefield might result in a dubbing. Ralf was polite, hard-working and charming. Many of the young women in the village fluttered their eyes at him but he was also a gentleman. I was pleased that he had come to share my home.
I hoped for peace, and that seemed likely as the only prospect for war lay in France. King Henry, flattered by a pope who loved to plot, had been induced to make war on our old enemy France. There was talk of an army being mustered and sent over to Calais, now one of the last foreign territories that England possessed. I understood the lure, for victory against France could bring England new lands and the men who fought the French, treasure, land and gold. When we fought the Scots, we had little recompense. The Scottish warriors we had slain had yielded poor weapons and purses that were paltry compared with those we had taken when we had fought the French the last time. I just hoped that the constant threat of raids from Scotland would mean we were not mustered to travel to France.
So, having returned from action, Ralf and I settled into life in Ecclestone where we trained the men each Sunday and spent the rest of the time riding, farming and sparring with each other. Despite the fact that I was a billman my time with Perkin Warbeck had given me training in the sword and I was a good man with a blade. Indeed the blade I wielded was fit for a prince. My life was good and I was at peace.
The manor of Lathom
Chapter 1
Lathom 1512
Each time I left my home in the fertile plains of Lancashire I never knew how long I would be away. The last adventure up by Ford Castle had been mercifully brief and it meant that I had not left my wife and children alone for long. I felt guilty when I did leave them. I had men I had hired who could fight and defend as well as farm but the raid from the brigands and pirates from Norway had been a warning. The nearest castles to us were Chester and Lancaster. There was not even a stronghold on the Ribble where my wife’s family lived. We visited the hall at Clitheroe once or twice but it was a long journey and when my youngest children were born too difficult. I visited the home of the Lord of Lancashire, Lord Stanley more often. Lathom was a mansion but there were no walls and the garrison there was a small one. The days when lords of the manor had kept household knights, men at arms and archers were long gone. The wars between York and Lancaster had been viciously self-destructive and so many men had died in that conflict that there were fewer men left to defend England. Castles had been pulled down on the orders of Henry Tudor and moats were filled in.
I was aware, especially after the raid on Burscough, that there was still danger and I did my part and made a point of riding my horse around Ecclestone, including the outlying farms that were a couple of miles away, to let the people there know that someone would look in on them. I spoke to everyone. There were old people, men who had fought alongside my father and they lived alone. Not every child stayed in the village. Some took themselves to places where the employment was not agricultural. Some wanted to live in the towns that were expanding. It meant men and women were left to fend for themselves in their old age and I did not think that was right. With the greatest crop being sheep we needed fewer men to work the farms. England was beginning to change.
When I rode my lands, I took James, my eldest son, with me. Walter sometimes came too, and when he did I walked. I could confidently have James on my horse behind me and he could even ride a horse himself but Walter was a lively boy. He was always safer when he was tethered to me by my hand. On those walks and rides, I came to know my sons. Both were clever boys and Jane had taught them their letters, numbers and prayers well. They would not be the wild child that their father had been. Even so, James was desperate to be a billman. He was a year or so shy of beginning his training when Ralf arrived. He was growing very quickly. When Ralf came his expectations changed for he liked the idea of becoming a man at arms rather than a billman like his father. Even though there was no war there might be the opportunity to be a knight. I had no such ambitions. Sir Edward had been used by the king once he was elevated to the peerage. Despite my skills and my service, I was mercifully overlooked by the king. I had been his spy but once my service was over then I was forgotten. It had been Sir Edward who had taken me to war the last time. I was happy to be an anonymous farmer living in the back of beyond.
“Can I be trained by Ralf, Father?”
I laughed. He had insulted me but James did not know that, “You know that Ralf came to me so that he would be a better man at arms. He is learning from me.”
“But he is a man at arms.”
I sighed, “If you wish those skills then I can teach you but you need to be proficient with a bill hook first.”
“Is not that the weapon of a common man?”
I shook my head for it was seen as a somewhat static and inglorious form of warfare by many. Men at arms, who were plated from head to foot and fought with expensive weapons, were seen as more heroic. “Once you learn to wield a billhook then a poleaxe, spear and other pole weapons are easier to use. A pole weapon keeps an enemy from being too close to you and fighting with your brothers in arms presents a solid wall that few can breach. When you use a sword, you are, perforce, working alone. The slightest mistake can cost you your life. Sir Edward discovered that up on the Tweed. He was the best man at arms I knew and became a good knight, yet because he did not keep up his training he died. You are still young. Spar with the pole and when you are big enough, I will let you use a billhook. You may watch me work with Ralf if that is your wish and learn that way.” He was happy with the bone I threw him.
Ralf and I worked for an hour after breakfast and an hour before evening. The rest of the time he worked with my labourers for he was building up his muscles and wished to earn his keep. There was no contract between us and he could leave whenever he wished. He still had the horse given to him by Sir Edward and he had taken money from the men we had slain. He had sword skills but I had been taught by mercenaries who lived and died by their skills. I knew more tricks than he did and I had fought in more battles and skirmishes than he had. We used two old-fashioned swords I had taken from some battlefield or other. They were not the fashionable flexible blades men used these days but they were far better for training. Their extra weight also helped. Walter and James would sit on one of my walls and watch us as we sparred. Sometimes we used swords and daggers. That was a test not only of skill but also reactions. Poor Perkin Warbeck had not enjoyed such natural reactions. He was the man least suited to being a warrior.
By the time we entered my hall, in the evening, we had earned our ale and our food. Jane had taken to Ralf for he was younger than we were and had become the little brother she never had. She was constantly trying to get him married to one of the many young women in the village. He seemed naturally shy and fought against her efforts, in the most polite manner, of course. She would invite young women to our home where they would sew. Such activities had been going on since the time of William the Conqueror. They had probably started before that time when women would gather to sew, weave and talk. Jane was a clever woman and the talk in our parlour as they sewed also gave her information about their lives. She was not nosey but the talk told her who were the old people that needed help or which children were going hungry. I was not the lord of the manor but Jane was certainly the lady of the manor. Men talked too but our words, when we were gathered on Sunday after church, were about the practice of war. Whenever she had the young women around then she made a point of sending for Ralf to ask for his help. He might have to measure the place where a new wall hanging would go or stand and wear some garment that they had made. My wife hoped for a reaction from either one of the young women or Ralf. The young women did react but Ralf just took it all in good humour.
The weeks passed and I wondered when Ralf would tire of life on the farm. It was rumoured that men at arms, billmen and archers were being hired in the south for service in France. The pay was good. Not that Ralf was ready yet but a captain could earn four shillings a day. Even a light horseman such as Ralf could earn nine pence a day and eight pence for every twenty miles marched whilst on campaign. With food provided then a man could make a small fortune while he fought for his king and country. That was without the purses that could be lifted if you were victorious. My old comrade in arms, Sam, had been successful and now ran an inn close to Hedingham. He was a good example of success. I know that Ralf was tempted.
I had been at home for some time when I was summoned to the hall of the Earl of Derby. As soon as I spied the eagle’s claw and the distinctive green and yellow livery of the Stanley family I knew what it meant. I realised, as I donned my finest garb and prepared White Star, my warhorse, that this would not be a social visit. The new earl did not hold me in the same high regard as his father had. I took with me Ralf who had become a sort of squire and James my eldest, as a page. Jane thought it a good idea as it was a sign of my importance. I was not lord of Ecclestone but the people for ten miles around regarded me as such. My efforts when we had sent the Viking raiders packing had made me something of a hero. Jane ensured that we were all appropriately dressed. She was not her mother but she had picked up on some of the values her mother, Mary de Clifton had. Mary aspired to be a great lady and while Jane did not, she was well aware of the differences between us and the great noble families of England. The Stanleys were the most important family in this part of the world.
When we reached the hall I discovered that it was not the Earl of Derby who had summoned me but his uncle, Sir Edward Stanley. While the 2nd Earl of Derby had little experience of warfare, Sir Edward did and after the Battle of Bosworth had been responsible for deterring the Scottish raiders who were intent on making mischief in the northern borders. He dismissed Ralf and James with an airy wave of his hand and he led me to a solar, a small chamber in the hall which faced south and had a pleasant aspect. It was the sort of room where he could speak privately and I was honoured to be admitted.
“Ecclestone, you are keeping well?”
“I am my lord, and yourself?”
He shook his head, “Once a man reaches fifty then his body becomes reluctant to obey even the simplest of commands.” He poured us each a glass of something. I took it and sipped it. It was a fortified wine from Portugal. He seemed to be looking for a way to begin the conversation. “I was sorry to hear about Sir Edward. He was a good soldier. He died well?”
I nodded, “He had a sword in his hand and he fought bravely but I would have been happier if he had died in his bed in Hedingham.”
“That is not the way warriors die.” He shook his head. “Word has come to me that you acquitted yourself well.” I shrugged. Whatever I said would be inappropriate. “It is because of that success and the manner in which you conducted yourself when my brother’s lands were raided that I wish to use your undoubted skills. You are a captain of billmen but I would like to increase your responsibility.” He hesitated, “I have been recently appointed as commissioner of array for Yorkshire and Westmoreland.”
I nodded. I knew the title. It meant he was responsible for ensuring that the two counties would be ready for war should it come.
“Congratulations, my lord.”
He snorted, “It is a poisoned chalice, Ecclestone. I have little power and if the Scots attack and are not defeated then I am blamed. It is a job for a scapegoat.” He leaned forward, “You are a warrior and I trust you. Nothing that is said in here shall be repeated, do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord.” In truth, I wished he would say nothing for I hated secrets.
“My nephew prefers London and the court. Lancashire is not as well defended as it should be. The raid on Burscough and the damage that was done was intolerable but my remit is further north. I will pay you, from our funds, to be captain of this part of Lancashire. I would have you ensure that the men are regularly trained. In this parchment,” he tapped the document which lay on his desk, “are the numbers of men you command and your responsibility. It also gives you limited authority.” That was not hard to do as I already met my own men each Sunday and it was not beyond the wit of man for me to visit each of the other manors and oversee their training. “I have instructed the steward to let the other captains know of your rank and their responsibilities.” He gave me a thin smile, “You are to become my scapegoat.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, “Let me understand this properly, my lord, where does my responsibility lie?”
“The Ribble to the north and the Mersey to the south, Wigan and Bolton to the east.”
“That is a large piece of land.”
“And that is why you are to be paid four shillings a day.” He took the parchment from a pile on the desk. “Here is your commission.”
