Stewart Binns: Lionheart

Then, without a moment’s delay, he kicked on.

I was used to forced marches – they were part of our training – but none had ever been as demanding as this one. The first hour was at a reasonable pace, and I felt comfortable. But it was only a placid beginning. We were soon up on the Downs of Hampshire, where Máedóc began to vary the pace. He chose the steepest of hills to climb and led me through streams and ditches. By midday, when he stopped to rest the horses, I was exhausted. But unlike the horses, which were able to enjoy fodder and water, I was denied any comforts and had to stand rather than sit.

Máedóc, relaxing with a leg of chicken in one hand and a flask of wine in the other, took the opportunity to goad me.

‘You seem a bit skinny to be a king’s bodyguard. In Ireland, men like you guard nuns and monks.’

I chose not to respond, which led him to throw his chicken leg at me. It bounced off my forehead, producing hoots of delight from his men. Mochán then walked over to me and told me to pick up the chicken remnant. Again, I did not respond, which led Mochán to aim a fist in my direction.

I was ready for him. During my morning’s exertions I had decided that, although I would succumb to the tests, I was not prepared to submit to physical abuse. I blocked his blow with my forearm and landed a solid punch of my own, before twisting his arm against his elbow joint and locking it behind his back. I then pushed him to the ground.

Máedóc smirked at me, but I was determined to make my point.

‘I am prepared to endure whatever has been prepared for me to examine my suitability for the task that awaits me. But if I am struck, I will strike back.’

Máedóc’s condescending smirk changed into a pitiless stare. He got to his feet and strode towards me, holding me in an unblinking gaze. He was half a head taller than I was. As he neared me, he bent his head slightly to look me in the eye.

‘Brave words, Englishman, but foolish ones. Mochán told you to pick up the chicken leg I so generously offered you. Do as you’re told, boy.’

I stiffened my resolve. ‘You pick it up; I believe it belongs to you.’

He did not answer. I knew a blow was coming, so I braced myself. But the retribution did not come as I thought it would. Although he resumed his leering expression, he put his arm around my shoulders in a mock sign of affection. It was a disconcerting experience. I felt I was in the grip of a huge bear, its arm weighing down on me like the bough of a large tree. He leaned on me, urging me to step towards his men, all of whom had adopted the same ominous sneer.

‘I like you; you are strong. Few men ever cross me. You must know that, but you did it anyway. I like that.’

His flattery was a feint. The arm that rested on my shoulders slowly tightened its grasp until I was ensnared in a headlock. His grip was so powerful I was unable to break free. I reached for my sword but his men grabbed my arms, rendering me helpless. They closed in on me, surrounding me, squawking like monkeys.

‘I am going to reward your bravery. I would normally let Mochán punish you for your impertinence, but I’m going to spare you that and give you a little treat. You’re going to be given a little exercise in the fresh air. It will do you good. You see how kind we are to you, even though you’ve behaved so badly?’

He let go of my head and began to walk away, leaving his men to goad me with taunts and insults. The blood rushed back into my ears and my eyes began to focus again. Then there was an appalling pain as I was catapulted backwards by an almighty blow to my temple. I did not see it coming, nor do I remember hitting the ground, but when my head cleared I realized that I had been poleaxed by Máedóc’s fist.

Mochán was looming over me, grinning inanely, chicken drumstick in hand.

‘Are you sure you don’t want a little bit of chicken?’

He forced it into my mouth; I was too weak to resist. He pressed my cheeks, encouraging me to chew, his stupid grin becoming a contorted snarl of anger.

‘You would be wise never to speak to Máedóc like that again. He has killed men for far less.’

Anger started to rise in me again, but I realized that, for the time being, I had to submit. My hands were bound again and, with the aid of a long piece of rope, I was attached to the pommel of the saddle of Máedóc’s steed.

For the next three hours I was put through hell. My arms soon felt like they had been dislocated at my shoulders, and I lost my footing several times. This left me helpless, to be dragged along the ground like a dead carcass. By the end of it I was unconscious, only coming round in my bed much later that night.

The first sensation I felt was warm water on my feet and sharp pains as the liquid seeped into deep lacerations on my soles and lower legs.

‘Lie still.’

The words, delivered warmly, came from a monk who was sitting on the side of my bed. He was a slight man in his early thirties with olive skin and hair that was almost raven black, but with contrasting piercing grey-green eyes. He had the look of a scholar and the soft hands of a monastic scribe.

I was in considerable pain and exhausted, but summoned sufficient energy to speak, if only with difficulty.

‘Who are you?’

‘I am Father Alun; the Earl is my patron and is helping me prepare to join the chapter at York. He has recommended me to Roger de Pont L’Évêque, Archbishop of York.’

‘So, what is your role in these tests? Do you read over me when I’m dead?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid that Máedóc’s methods are severe, too severe. You are only the second one to have made it this far. Sadly, the other knight died a few days later in an accident during weapons training. My role is to assess your ability in languages, your suitability to be at ease in the presence of noblemen and your ability to conduct intelligent conversation with them.’

I managed to raise myself on to my side and could see the pitiful state of my legs, which looked as if they had been flayed from the knees downwards. My elbows were also raw, and the front of my torso burned with the pain of countless lacerations.

‘I’m afraid my ability to behave in the presence of noblemen is soon likely to be an irrelevance. Unless the rest of the tests can be done from horseback, I doubt that I will be able to continue.’

‘I agree. I asked Máedóc for a week to help you recover, but unfortunately he would only give you until tomorrow morning. I have sent for the Earl of Huntingdon, but he’s in Salisbury and will not be back for three days.’

‘Does he know how these tests are being conducted?’

‘No, I’m sure not. Máedóc was recommended by King Henry, who recruited him in Ireland. The Earl wants the tests to be demanding, but I’m sure Máedóc is taking them too far.’

‘Well, the man is a killer; I can see it in his eyes. And he means to kill me. As soon as I can get on a horse, I am leaving for Westminster.’

‘I will help you as much as I can, but I can’t protect you from Máedóc until the Earl returns.’

‘I understand, but do what you can to heal my legs. Where are my weapons and armour?’

‘His men have them; I won’t be able to get them for you.’

‘Where is my horse?’

‘With the rest of the garrison horses. But Máedóc has given instructions that it is only to be released to him.’

‘Do you know what the next part of the tests involves?’

‘Yes, weapons.’

‘Very well, let’s see what tomorrow brings. By the way, do you have any idea what it is I am being tested for?’

‘I am sorry, Sir Ranulf, the Earl has not told me. But I do know that he cares passionately about England, as do I. Now that he is very old, he chose me to help him, an honour I accepted without hesitation.’