A kind of beginning

In those days, back in the year of our Lord 494, I was a young, newly recruited soldier in Lord Band’s garrison in Bedford. As I recall, we were twenty-five soldiers, and commanding us were five knights. Of course, by then, the concept of knighthood and the chivalric duties was not as it is now. What I call knights were really officers. Usually, when someone was called a knight, all that meant was that he was a mounted warrior, but the knights we had served as sergeants and captains. Some of us soldiers had horses too, but that alone didn’t make us officers.

As I understand it, we were quite prosperous compared to many others. Lord Band was not ungenerous and he had made something of a fortune from the smithies of villages. The goods from Bedford were renowned throughout Logres as being of good quality, and Band was a shrewd businessman. We, the soldiers, had ample food and good equipment, although not the best there was. Cured leather harnesses, a reinforced leather helmet, leather shoes, a tall oval shield, a dagger and a sword - that’s what we were given. The pay we earned sufficed well enough for buying clothes and small items, like better wine once in a while or a simple ring or other things like that.

Anyway, of those soldiers, only four need introduction here, since all others perished before the fateful events at the eve of St. Albans, well before the fires at Beale Valet and Hertford. Dafwydd was a refugee from Kent who had fled when the Saxons invaded his homeland. He had a lock of white hair on his hairline - a memory of an axe, he told me. He had been struck down and left for dead when defending his mother and sister, and when he regained his consciousness, he found his loved ones raped and murdered. Ever since then, his hate for the Saxons was immutable. Otherwise, he was calm and prudent, never getting into trouble or indulging in heavy drinking, although he enjoyed a tankard of ale as much as the next fellow. He had found a wife in one of the villages, and settled down in Bedford to wrestle with his inner demons. Tyngyr was a northman from the kingdom of Gorre. He was a cruel and vain man who spent a lot of time meticulously grooming his greying black beard, moustache and hair. He was good looking enough, but his proud manner and piercing eyes distanced many people. Nevertheless, he was a competent fighter, and could even handle a longbow well enough.

The last two were brothers: Ceredig and Owain. They came from somewhere in Wuerensis originally and had the lack of trust for overly religious people common in that area. Ceredig was the older one, as proud as Tyngyr and as temperate as Dafwydd. Like Tyngyr, his black eyes were piercing, but he was a lot more agile and strong. He was a very good swordsman, and showed a cunning understanding of tactics even then. Owain was the younger, and he was as handsome as a day, tall, well built and erect, with long black hair and noble features; their father was Roman and Owain could easily be mistaken for one. He was a friendly fellow, very popular among the women at the castle, and had a whole litter of children with three different mothers there. He was married to a kitchen maid, who had borne him a pair of twins. Strangely enough, he seemed unaware of his good looks and how they affected the women. He was very shy of them, which gave him some problems since they sought him out and tried to get him away from his wife. I am not really sure all the children were his, since he proudly acknowledged every claim of his fatherhood voiced by a fresh mother, but I believe it was true. I remember how shocked I was when overhearing two maids discussing how they had both, one after the other, crept into his bed when he was asleep and used him shamelessly, without him even awakening. All of his children, except the oldest son, would die in the fire that lay waste the castle of Bedford.

The affection the women held for Owain gave birth to the enmity to Maelgwyn that marred the relationship between them years later. Maelgwyn was one of our knights, and very proud of the fact. Having been born in a noble family, he held himself to be quite superior to us common soldiers and made the distinction between noble and commoner very clear to us all. So when at the spring feast he saw Lord Band’s two unmarried young daughters court Owain, he lost his temper. Straight up to Owain he walked and ordered him to leave the ladies alone. Owain, all innocence, assured his superior that he had done nothing wrong, for in truth it was he who was courted by the women, not them by him. Alas, Maelgwyn could not believe this, so he slapped Owain on the face and named him liar.

At that point Ceredig, the brother of Owain, threw himself between them. He had lost quite a sum to Maelgwyn when playing dice the night before, and was just waiting for an excuse to pick a fight with the man who had relieved him of all his earnings. Without a word he struck Maelgwyn down with one mighty blow. Others rushed to and held them, and Lord Band decided that the brothers would spend the rest of the night locked up in a storage shed. What only Ceredig knew was the petty surprise he had already arranged for Maelgwyn. By shamelessly bribing his brother’s eldest son and other children with apples stolen from the kitchen, Ceredig had made them promise to fill Maelgwyn’s boots with kitchen garbage before he rose from bed the next morning.

At that point Ceredig threw himself between them. Without a word he struck Maelgwyn down.

And so it was that when they were released, Maelgwyn was furious. When he saw the brothers escorted into the hall he threw himself at them and struck Ceredig down, screaming with rage and accusing them both of having filled his best boots with fish entrails. He was caught and held by two other knights, but after even calming somewhat he still maintained his accusations. Lord Band, who had witnessed it all, pointed out that the brothers had been locked up all night and thus could not possibly have come close to his boots. Grudgingly, Maelgwyn apologised, and Ceredig forgave him on the spot, knowing that he had already had his revenge. Owain, though, could not forgive the unfair treatment. Even years later, when he met Maelgwyn in a much more exalted office, Owain held on to his resentment.

*        *        *

Just one week later, a peasant from the easternmost of Lord Band’s villages came running to the castle. A group of Saxon warriors had ridden in at the break of dawn and were even now herding all the livestock, cattle and sheep alike, along the road east. Quickly, we armed ourselves and set out. As I was one of the fortunate soldiers who owned a horse - the surprisingly successful result of the first and only time I ever tried my hand at dice - I was put in the advance party, together with Ceredig, Owain and Dafwydd. We rode out with the knights, who were led by Maelgwyn, and the soldiers on foot came after. As we proceeded down the road, we were ordered to try to get ahead of the raiders by going through the forest. Meanwhile, the knights would charge the Saxons driving the herd. The plan was to press them into the animals from both directions, using the stolen herd to our advantage.

We set off into the woods, led by Dafwydd. It was no easy riding we faced, I can tell you. Owain and I soon lagged behind, but after a while we heard sounds of fighting ahead. As we came out on the road, we saw Dafwydd laying about himself in frenzy and with a mighty blow cleaving one Saxon from the top of the head right down to the groin. Ceredig fought with a cold and silently scary determination, but was hard pressed by two enemies. Owain rode to his aid, and I entered the mêlée too. We were outnumbered, but the narrowness of the road worked to our advantage, and they could not get by us. We were sorely tested, though, and soon we were all bleeding from many wounds. In a moment of quiet, I stole a glance at my companions, and saw that Dafwydd had fallen, and Owain looked so wounded that it seemed a miracle that he could still remain conscious. I felt weary too, and it was all I could do to defend myself. Of us four, only Ceredig still had strength in his arm, although he too was wounded. After killing a man who had given him a ugly cut in his side, he desperately lifted his horn and tried to sound a plead for aid, but so breathless was he that no sound came forth.

I had already given up all hope when there was a thrashing in the forest and three of our knights came out, swords at the ready. As they joined us, Owain fell back, got off his horse and promptly lost his consciousness. Ceredig and I joined him by the side of the road, and as we fetched Dafwydd’s unmoving body we found that he was still alive! Quickly, Ceredig did what he could for his wounds, and then he took care of his brother and me. On the road, the remaining Saxons were overcome and cut down, and soon villagers came to take care of the panic-stricken animals. A cart was brought, and we got to ride that back to the castle.

*        *        *

As an example of Band’s generosity, I can tell that the four of us who had almost perished when holding the forerunners back were named heroes of the day, and we were given good helmets with nose, cheek and neck guards and chainmails looted from the raiders. The mails were repaired and fitted for us by his own arms smith, as were the odd-looking helmets. Our losses were blessedly small, considering the fact that we had fought and killed seventeen raiders. Everybody had received much damage, but only five soldiers had died.

Furthermore, Maelgwyn had broken his hip in a manner that would not heal properly, according to old Madge, who was the one in Band’s household who was most skilled in the arts of healing. Somehow, he had let his lance drop when they charged the Saxons, and the tip caught in a root. Still holding on to it, Maelgwyn was lifted from his saddle and thrown high in the air, landing hard on his left side. As I recall, he left us with a trading caravan as soon as he was fit enough to travel. The poor man would never be able to walk without a cane or ride again. He left in shame and to tell the truth he was not missed. During his five years in Bedford he had only befriended Band’s only son, Brendig. Everybody else only thought of him as nothing but a pompous brute, lacking both humility and a hold on his temper. Only two years later he would show his potential to the world, and I remember how suspicious Ceredig and Owain became of his popularity in Hertford then.

Anyway, the fight had reduced our garrison, and Lord Band travelled to Huntington, to confer with his liege, Earl Robert in Beale Valet. Besides, he needed to recruit new soldiers and get a new officer to replace Maelgwyn. From what I heard, he wanted Earl Robert to give him an experienced officer from his own garrison and also give a hand in the recruiting. However, he did not get any help, and he parted from Beale Valet after a row with Earl Robert who, for reasons we didn’t know then, held little love for his liege in Bedford.

Nevertheless, Band managed to recruit two experienced warriors in Huntington. Oban and Gwyn were former mercenaries in their early thirties, and had seen more fights than I at the time believed I would ever do. When they joined us, some of our younger men started to brag about their powress and accomplishments, trying to establish where these two men would be placed in the pecking order. I remember well how Oban and Gwyn exchanged a look across the room, drew their daggers simultaneously and threw them at each other. As we gasped, they both calmly catched the other’s dagger in the air and threw it back, catching their own and sheathing it. After that, there was little bragging among the men when these two were around.

Gwyn was a good-natured fellow who soon became one of us. He enjoyed playing games and flirting, although he seldom went all the way with the girls and women. I think he just found it fun. He was good with almost any weapon: sword, lance, and spear, dagger, axe and even the longbow. Oban, on the other hand, kept to himself. He made it quite clear that he wanted to be left alone, and truth to tell many of us were afraid of him. With his broken nose, scarred face and air of cruel menace, nobody tried to befriend him. He seldom joined us in conversation and I never saw him indulge himself in wine, food or women. Only Gwyn could come close to him, it seemed. But we were thankful to have him with us anyway, since he was, as far as we could judge, in every bit as good as Gwyn when it came to handling weapons.

*        *        *

However good they were, though, Band still lacked the garrison he was obliged to keep. One officer and three soldiers were still needed, and Band decided to hold a contest in arms for his men. The winner would be knighted - given an officer’s rank. When he told us about this, we all found it hard to imagine anybody but the two new recruits to win, but they both rose and asked to be excused from the contest. Years later, we learned that Oban disliked knights and nobles alike, after a personal tragedy which would live on in a famous ballad, concluding as it ultimately did in a show of exceptional honour. Not wanting to loose his friendship, Gwyn declined too, although he offered to meet the winner to, as he put it, "Check the quality of the troops". We all assumed - and hoped - that he was only joking.

I will not bore you with the details of who defeated who. Let me just say that in both the joust and swordfight on foot, I lost in my first round. Dafwydd defeated Ceredig in the last round of the joust and was named victor of that event, but he was defeated quite early in the swordfight. In the semi-final of the swordfight we got a good laugh, however, because Ceredig met Owain. After exchanging a few blows without any of them loosing their balance or scoring a hit, Ceredig took a step back, looked at his brother and calmly said: "You know it would be better if I won".

To our astonishment, Owain thought this over, nodded and stood passively without defending himself as he received a blow that sent him to the ground. His brother helped him up and then went on to win the final.

Because he had won the swordfight and come second in the joust, Ceredig was proclaimed the winner of the contest. Lord Band had ordered a feast and put Ceredig on his right side that evening. I was one of the unlucky who were assigned guard duty, so I missed the ceremony when our newest officer got his rank, but it was far from as grand as it is nowadays, I have been told.


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Text (c) Örjan Westin 1999, art (c) Ann-Cathrine Loo 1999.