They didn’t want to take the hill-lands, not seeing the benefit as being worth the cost. So now the English borderlands bleed month after month to Welsh raids- usually not much blood, but a constant drain.
“The English made many deep expeditions into our lands. Their armies were met with ambush by warriors who disappeared into the trees, and raids on their camps. Many more English were killed than Welsh, again a constant day by day bleeding with ten or twenty bodies a day being sent back to England for burial. The fighting has always been savage, even when it was against the English. The English fear and hate the Welsh because they’re afraid of us. Afraid of the death-dealing arrows that come from ambush. Afraid of our raiding parties. What a man fears, so he also hates. There has been atrocity after atrocity, on both sides of the border. Men, women and children massacred, often horribly. Houses burnt and crops despoiled. It’s gone on for so long and both sides are equally at fault.
“Your expedition against Brycheiniog was perfect. Fast and with clear objectives achieved on the first day. Your men were well-disciplined and caused no physical harm to the villagers- which is unusual in any punitive expedition. Anybody can understand the… clout… given by many swords and spears. The swords speak very loudly. Frankly, if the Normans and English campaign in Gwynedd, even if they take Caernafon, I wouldn’t give a shit. My people hate the people of Gwynedd more than they hate the people of Herefordshire, as the English raid us less often!”
After this lecture on Welsh politics Alan was thoughtful and retired to consider the information he had received.
That evening Alan gave orders that two troops of horse, two squads of infantry and one of archers would march on the 29th May. One troop of horse would accompany him to Chester and the remainder of the men would go to Staunton. Anne would take over responsibility for his manors in Tendring Hundred, although she wouldn’t have to sit on the Hundred Court. Osmund and Brand would assist her at Thorrington, Hugh at Great Oakley and Roger at Bradfield. Twenty mounted men-at-arms, ten huscarles, thirty infantry and forty militia archers would remain to protect his estates, where no immediate danger was envisaged. Two wagons and seven oxen were to be bought at Colchester for what was expected to be a one-way journey to Staunton carrying the armour of the cavalry and infantry, tents and other equipment. There they could either be sold at a profit or used for transport between Staunton and Gloucester.
They rode out of the village to waves and shouts of encouragement. Alan, with the lad Leof as his personal servant, Owain, Edric and nine other green-clad Wolves rode to Chester via Northampton, Tamworth and Stoke, a journey taking four days through weather that had turned overcast with occasional showers. The men’s wolf-skin capes helped to keep them dry. The rolled-up armour, wrapped in oilskin cloth to keep it from rusting, tents, pots and other baggage were carried on pack horses.
They approached Chester from the east in the late afternoon. They had not pressed hard- the ride could have been accomplished in three days but there was no need to unnecessarily fatigue either man or beast with there being no immediate hurry. Chester was surprisingly quiet and after riding through the East Gate and presenting themselves at the castle they discovered fitzOsbern and his men, including forces belonging to Hugh de Grandmesnil and Roger de Montgomerie, both of whom held lands within a day’s ride, had marched into Flintshire two days previously. When Alan asked where they were bound he was told abruptly, “West. Just follow the smoke.” Alan insisted on having a note of hand to confirm the attendance of himself and his men, and also insisted on the provision of quarters in the castle for the night. The steward was reluctant to provide quarters, but finally agreed when Alan pointed out that space must be available as the castle was near empty. Alan saw no need to pay for bed and board for his men unnecessarily when they were on the service of the king.
The next morning, after breaking their fast on porridge and fresh fruit and obtaining provisions for a week from the commissary, they rode out over the wooden bridge over the River Dee and into Flintshire. The men were in full harness, wearing coats of mail and with helmets on heads and shields on shoulders, looking about themselves attentively. Even Owain and Leof had each been provided with a mail byrnie, helmet, shield and sword. Although Flintshire was not hostile territory, the path of the army was indeed clear to see. Perhaps there were no burnt farms or villages as yet, but the passage of a large number of men was obvious to the eye. The village of Buckley hadn’t been burnt, but a quick inspection of the tavern revealed that all food and drink had been requisitioned.
The land on the Welsh side of the border was sparsely populated, with few villages or farms. The fertile land in the river valley was heavily wooded with large stands of oak trees and tangled undergrowth. As they approached the hills to the west of Buckley they firstly met a number of horses carrying wounded men east, and then wagons carrying the more seriously injured. Close to the north could be seen a pall of smoke. Alan assumed this was, or had been, the village of Caerwys.
They came upon the army shortly afterwards in the first range of hills some ten miles west of Buckley and a little less than five miles from the village of Denbigh. The road proceeded down a narrow valley between the hills of the northern part of the Moel Famu, which acted as something of a watershed with streams running away both north and south down gullies cut by the ages through the hills. Both the valley and gullies were thick with vegetation, trees and bushes including gorse and bramble, with just a narrow defined track. In a small relatively clear area of valley were nearly a thousand men, mainly milling around with no apparent purpose or direction. A few small fires had been lit, around which men were sitting, some cooking food.
Alan stopped and asked one of the sentries for details of what had happened. Apparently, several hours before three groups of Welsh warriors had dashed out of the narrow side-valleys on their hill-ponies and attacked the middle of the Anglo-Norman column as it had moved ponderously forward, while at the same time men had appeared at close range from behind bushes, loosed half a dozen arrows each into the surprised invaders and then taken to their heels. The Welsh had come and gone in less than five minutes, leaving about 70 Normans dead or wounded. Alan looked at the sky and mused that unless the leaders got things moving soon the army would be stuck in the hills for the night, in a position that invited further attack as the dense vegetation and hilly terrain permitted stealthy approach at any time.
Alan instructed his men to dismount and eat, and rode towards the knot of men who were clearly the leadership group, although no banners flew. As he moved closer Alan could hear fitzOsbern shouting at a hapless underling. FitzOsbern glanced up to see who was approaching and gave up berating the poor man, who promptly took the opportunity to disappear. Still with a sour expression on his face, as Alan was dismounting fitzOsbern said, “Ho, Sir Alan! Well met! Hopefully now we’ll have somebody who knows what’s going on!”
“Good afternoon, Lord William,” replied Alan as he removed his helmet, pushed the mail coif back off his head and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his left leather gauntlet. “You seem to be having some difficulty.”
FitzOsbern snorted angrily, “The fucking Welsh won’t stand and fight! A little while ago there was a sneak attack on the column from both flanks at same time by men on horses, with the head of the column being hit by arrows coming out of nowhere- they’d let the vanguard go through unmolested. Now that prick, wherever he’s gone now, tells me that in the last hour we’ve lost three men standing sentry, throats cut or hit by arrows at close range!”
“Well, we did know that the Welsh are masters of ambush and raids, and avoid pitched battles against trained men. Unless caught unaware, they fight on their own terms, or not at all. Why didn’t your scouts find them?” asked Alan.
“We’ve stopped sending them out. This is the second day we’ve been on the move and we’ve sent scouts out each day. Hardly one returned- they just disappear. The men won’t go out anymore in less than troop strength. Also, our supply train is being attacked as they move west. We’ve got to put a strong guard on every damn wagon, but going east there’s no problem. I don’t understand it.”
Alan raised an eyebrow. Still this wasn’t his problem- fitzOsbern was an experienced campaigner, although clearly not in this type of campaign, and was being lavishly rewarded to be responsible for what was happening. Alan was just a minor lord here to do his forty days knight service. “Ah… presumably they prefer to spent their time attacking wagons full of supplies, rather than empty ones, or ones with wounded soldiers in them. The more wounded men in Chester, the more effort and resources have to be put into caring for them, and the greater the cost to their lords and England. Dead men require no effort or care, once they’re in the ground! If suitable, Lord William, I’ll take my men and join one of the cavalry squadrons. I think I saw the colours of Roger de Montgomerie’s men, although his lordship himself seems to be absent. I’d assume we’ll be moving soon, if we are to reach Denbigh by dark?”
