the forest and Saint Martin’s, laying siege to the Welsh fortress at Caer Cadarn. William invaded the town of Saint Martin’s with a force of five hundred knights and men-at arms with himself in the lead. There was no resistance. The invaders, discovering only monks there—most of them French, under the authority of an ageing Bishop Asaph— and a few wounded soldiers and frightened townsfolk with little enough food to supply those already there, simply declared the town conquered and effectively reclaimed for the king’s domains.
Caer Cadarn was not so easily defeated. The occupying Ffreinc troops quickly learned that they could not approach nearer than three hundred paces of the timber walls without suffering a hail of killing arrows. But as the old fortress itself seemed to offer no aid or support to King Raven and the rebels in the wood, William decided to leave it alone, and trust to a rigorous siege to bring the stronghold into submission.
Day gave way to day, and sensing a cold, wet winter on the near horizon, with no advancement in his fortunes and the time for his departure for France looming ever closer, the king decided to force the issue. He called his commanders to him. “Our time grows short. Autumn is at an end, and winter is soon upon us,”William announced. Standing in the centre of his round tent with his earls and barons ranged around him, he looked like a bear at a baiting, surrounded by wolves with extravagant appetites. “We must leave for Normandie within the fortnight or forfeit our tribute, and we will have this rebellion crushed before we go.”
Hands on hips, he glared at the grim faces of his battle chiefs, daring them to disagree. “Well? We will have your council, my lords, and that quick.”
One of the barons stepped forward. “My lord and king,” he said, “may I speak boldly?”
“Speak any way you wish, Lord Bellême,” replied William. A thick-skinned warhorse himself, he was not squeamish about any criticisms his vassals or subjects might make. “We do solicit your forthright opinion.”
“With all respect, Majesty,” began Bellême, “it does seem we have allowed these rebels to run roughshod over our troops.” The Earl of Shrewsbury could be counted on to point out the obvious. “What is needed here is a show of strength to bring the Welsh to their knees.” He made a half turn to appeal to his brother noblemen. “The savage Welshman respects only blunt force.”
“And yours would be blunter than most,” remarked a voice from the rear of the tent.
“Mock me if you will,” sniffed Bellême. “But I speak as one who has some experience with these Welsh brigands. A show of force—that will turn the tide in our favour.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Earl de Reviers of Devon, stepping forward, “you might tell us how this might be accomplished when the enemy will not engage? They strike out of the mists and disappear again just as swiftly. My men half believe the local superstition that the forest is haunted by this King Raven and we fight ghosts.”
“Bah!” barked Earl Shrewsbury. “Your men are a bunch of old women to believe such tales.”
“And yet,” replied Devon, “how is this show of strength to be performed against an enemy who is not there?” He offered the craggy Shrewsbury a thin half smile. “No doubt this is something your vast experience has taught you.”
Shrewsbury gave a muttered growl and stepped back.
“The rebels refuse to stand and fight,” put in Le Noir of Richmond. “That is a fact. Until we can draw them out into the open we will continue to fail, and our superior numbers will count for nothing.”
“To be sure,” agreed the king, “and meanwhile our superior numbers are eating through all our supplies. We’re already running out of meat and grain. More will have to be brought in, and that takes time. Time we do not have to spare.”William’s voice had been rising as he began to vent his rage. “My lords, we want this ended now! We want to see that rebel’s head on a pike tomorrow!”
“Your Majesty,” ventured another of the king’s notables, “I would speak.”
William recognized his old friend, the Earl of Cestre. “Lord Hugh,” he said, “if you see a way out of this dilemma, we welcome your wisdom.”
“Hardly wisdom, Sire,” answered Hugh. “More an observation. When facing a particularly cunning stag, you must sometimes divide your party in order to come at the beast from unexpected quarters.”
“Meaning?” inquired William, who was in no