The Stonegate Sword

by Harry James Fox

  “Oh? What happened there?” asked Blackie, with a surprised tone.

  “An English army defeated a much greater army using archers against heavy cavalry.”

  “Hmmm. So your books are actually good for something?” asked Blackie, with a grin. He gave Don an affectionate punch on the shoulder. “We will see if it works as well for us.”

  †

  The killing ground was ready, and the Diné scouts were providing a screen forward. Don had placed the Lances in the open just behind the hidden ditch. The crossbowmen were also ready. A group of Ariel scouts were on the mesa watching to the southeast, and the Blades were held in reserve on the mesa top. Danny was at the observation post by the signal flags. Then they waited.

  It began to appear the heavy cavalry of the enemy was not going to advance towards the mesa at all. The scouts began to shift their weight in their saddles, nervously. But then Don saw signal flags go up. Through his binoculars he saw the signal for a large force of heavy cavalry moving to the southeast. Don blew two blasts on his war-horn. Blackie and the Bows quickly took the steep trail down. They did not come any too soon. Leaving ten men to hold the horses, the rest of the Bows went through the grove of trees and took position with the crossbowmen in their hidden firing positions. Ten mounted scouts, armed with war spears, took position behind the grove in the edge of the meadow. They would be used to stiffen the line, should the enemy cross the hidden ditch.

  Besides the forty Diné scouts out to the front, their total force in the killing grounds amounted to one hundred horse troopers, fourteen scouts and twenty crossbowmen. Suppose they sent the entire force of a thousand? Worse odds than at Agincourt! Don went over the plan, trying to think of anything left undone. He rode around to take his position beside Carl and behind the Lances. The mounted horsemen stood nearly stirrup to stirrup across the fifty-yard wide choke point on the main trail.

  Then they could hear hoof beats as the first of the Diné approached. “Many horse coming,” one shouted. “Maybe two hundred.” Some of the scouts took the narrow trail through the rocks—others through the trees on their right. They had to avoid the ditch, of course. The open glade in front of them stayed empty for perhaps a dozen anxious minutes. Then a small group of Raiders ventured cautiously out, viewing the waiting troopers at the south end of the clearing. Several wheeled around and vanished. They were no doubt reporting to the main body.

  When the heavy cavalry appeared, they looked like a river in flood. A column of fours entered the clearing and spread both ways, as if on a parade ground, to form a wide rank, perhaps seventy to eighty strong. This was followed by another rank, then another, and finally a fourth. A small command group of about five took front and center. There were more than three hundred of them! Don examined them through his binoculars. The commander, with gilded helm and breastplate, looked back with binoculars of his own. A tall man was at his elbow. Don recognized him in an instant though he was three hundred yards away. He was Balek Brown.

  Chapter 27

  †

  The Floodgates Open

  Though an army deploys against me, my heart is not afraid; though a war breaks out against me, still I am confident. Psalm 27: 3 HCSB

  It will be over in a quarter-hour! That was Don’s thought as he watched the commanders talking. By their gestures, it was clear that Balek Brown wanted to lead the charge. His request was denied, since he was waved to the rear, and the man with the golden helm rode to the center of the line. He waved his hand forward. Bugles rang. Don knew that they could not resist launching a glorious charge—that the enemy expected would sweep through their puny foes like a war lance through parchment. Three hundred strong, they felt power in numbers. Don was wishing that his men had dug the ditch wider. Surely these mighty war horses could jump a four-foot ditch like a deer over a sagebrush. But it was much too late to worry about that!

  Like an arrow shot from a bow, the line of horsemen surged forward, pennants flying. It was all that Don could do to not fly as well. The horse’s hooves literally shook the ground, and their speed continued to increase. Their war-spears were pointed forward like a vast forest of steel. Closer they came, and Don braced himself for the impact, even though he and Snap stood in the second rank. He wished he had a spear, but he was armed only with his sword. Colin’s horse danced sideways, a movement shared by most mounts in the Lance Troop.

  “Steady … Steady!” Carl commanded from the right.

  The lead horses in the charge were only twenty feet away when the first rank literally disappeared. One minute they were in full gallop, but an instant later the first two ranks were transformed into a mass of struggling men and animals. The ditch was filled and seething. Many horses had turned complete forward somersaults. A dozen men from the first rank were thrown clear and were flung at the feet of the Lance troop who themselves were suddenly mounted on plunging, frightened horses. Still, they quickly dispatched their stunned foes. A dozen riderless horses somehow made it through the tangle. They galloped on, continuing the charge alone. The handful of enemy that made it through the tangle, and were still mounted, were surrounded and killed.

  The third and fourth ranks were able to skid to a stop for the most part. Some horses were pushed into the ditch by pressure from the rear. Some riders lost their seats from the sudden stop and were thrown onto the writhing heap. The others milled in confusion that was made worse by the hail of crossbow bolts from both flanks. Forty bow troopers on the defender’s right flank added their arrows to the hail of missiles. Some Lance troopers moved forward and began spearing the fallen cavalrymen like a boy would spear frogs. A score of dismounted Diné began dispatching the fallen in the ditch with their war axes while another score of Diné bowmen kept the mounted enemy at bay.

  The Bow troopers were using bodkin-tipped war arrows designed to defeat mail. Even so, only about one shot out of four could pierce the mail coats enough to seriously wound. But the enemy faces, necks, arms, and lower legs were vulnerable, as were the horses’ heads, necks and legs. Two heavy crossbows on each flank, with two-hundred-pound draw weight, could easily drive the bodkin points through any enemy breastplates and mail. They directed their fire at anyone that looked like a leader. A couple of the surviving enemy had crossbows as well, but they were quickly shot down.

  Some of the enemy attempted to ride their horses into the rocks to cut down the crossbowmen, but could not face the hail of bolts. An attempt to charge through the trees on the other flank met with the same results. Logs and war spears blocked that way, utterly. Even though well over one hundred enemy were mounted and unhurt, they milled in confusion. A few jumped the ditch, but were attacked on three sides and had no chance. Every minute, the quarrels and arrows were wounding, slaying, or killing their mounts.

  Don saw some Raiders at a distance moving on the far side of the grove of trees. They seemed to be trying to get behind the line. Don sent Colin back to warn the mounted scouts and the Bow Troop in the rear. He returned in a few minutes. “The Diné see them. They have them stopped,” he reported.

  Don looked at the signal flags on the mesa. Nothing had changed. He heard the Lance troopers complaining that they could not get at the remaining enemy cavalry. They wanted to test themselves against them, spear to spear, and sword to sword. But Don was glad that this was not possible. He wanted every one of his men to fight again another day.

  Don had been wrong about one thing. The battle had not been decided in fifteen minutes. From the time the charge had been launched, the battle was effectively over in two minutes. He noticed that a war horn was sounding from the enemy rear. He lifted his binoculars and could see Balek Brown and a score of Raiders. Balek was sounding his horn.

  Finally, the remaining eighty or so mounted cavalrymen turned and, without so much as a glance over their shoulders at their wounded comrades, galloped off the field to the northwest. The battle was over. It
took another fifteen minutes to send scouts forward and to form up the Bows, who followed cautiously to pick off any stragglers. The next hour was the ugly work that Don detested. He knew that most of his men felt the same way, but it had to be done.

  They rounded up the enemy horses that were still alive. About twenty were either unhurt or whose wounds were slight. The rest were destroyed. Don had to turn his head away. This bothered him almost as much as the quick deaths that the wounded enemy received. Only a handful of Raiders had fallen, but a few ponies were captured. Friendly losses were slight. A Diné warrior had been speared. A Lance Trooper had been hit by an enemy crossbow bolt in the throat. There were a number of other wounds, but most of them were minor. Well over two hundred enemy lay dead on the field. Four prisoners were taken alive, mostly those that had been stunned, and were spared out of pity. Several had been found under a pile of dead horses.

  Don ordered that as much of the arms and armor as possible be recovered from the field. The spears, swords, helms and mail shirts, or byrnies, would be of great value to the Bethuel and Ariel levies, if they could only get them back. The problem was the weight. The mail alone would weight over two tons, a load for twenty strong horses. The entire force began retrieving the dead and stripping the bodies. The captured war horses were put to use transporting the captured equipment up the steep trail to the mountain top.

  The enemy commander was discovered, crushed beneath his horse. The gold-colored breastplate and helm were taken as trophies, as well as the beautiful standard that bore what must have been his personal emblem. It was green with gold edges made from gold bullion threads. The image emblazoned thereon was a red wolf, lips curled in a snarl. Don was determined that this banner would hang in the Ariel fire-pit, as soon as possible. His binoculars were undamaged, and Don insisted that Blackie take them.

  Don was offered the gaudy armor, but declined. Then Carl offered him the enemy commander’s war horn, chased in pure gold with silver trim. He tried to decline, but the troopers took up the cry, “Take it. Take it, Sir Don!” He finally accepted and hung it over his shoulder. Carl was given charge of all the coin collected from the purses of the fallen. Clearly they had been paid well. The gold coins in the commander’s purse alone amounted to more than Don’s sign-up bonus. The grand total would be a great sum, that was for sure.

  The signal flags showed no change. Don sent a scout down to contact Blackie to find out what he was doing. Most of the Diné scouts had dispersed to provide all-around security, by this time. He sent another Lance Troop scout to give the news to Slim, still in reserve on the mesa top with the Blades. He advised him of the result of the battle and told him to be prepared to give cover for their retreat, should the rest of the enemy cavalry advance.

  Don’s thoughts kept returning to that one question. Where is the rest of the enemy cavalry?

  †

  It was nearly dark when they finally retrieved the last of the captured weapons and equipment. Another sad and short funeral service took a half hour. Then they ate their evening meal. The roast horse meat was delicious. Don ordered the shackled prisoners to be moved well out of earshot of the council that was held by a fire in front of Danny’s cabin. This time, the council included all of the mount leaders, as well as Carl, Blackie, Slim, Colin, Wilson, and Danny. Danny introduced another patrol leader named Nelson, of the Todichiinii clan. He was a handsome man with broad shoulders and a large head. In fact, all his bones were big.

  The other newcomer was the leader of the crossbowmen, a slender man known as Jenkins. Don called them all to order. He was surprised that the meeting started off with complaints. But there were none from Jenkins, who was obviously proud of his men.

  The mount leaders of Blade Troop were all frustrated that they had been left in reserve during the last two battles. They were chafing for action and worried that Don did not trust them. Don patiently explained that they were left out the first day, simply because it was the other troop’s turn to patrol down below. The way up the hill was steep, and it was best to rotate that assignment to save the horses. The second day seemed most likely to be lance and bow work. But he promised that the Blades would get their chance.

  Then the Lances raised a similar complaint. They had wanted to close with the enemy and test their skills in combat, but the ditch had prevented that. They admitted that the killing grounds were a clever trap, yet they somehow felt cheated. Again, Don showed them that he had good reason to preserve his little force as much as possible. They all finally agreed. Then the mood changed, and everyone began thanking God for His amazing blessings. They had won a lopsided victory, and that fact began to sink in.

  Don took a few minutes to praise everyone involved in the battle. He was pleased with everyone’s performance. He again emphasized that the reserves had done their duty and should feel no shame, that their role was also important. Then he moved to the main topic of the meeting.

  “Can anyone explain why the rest of the heavy cavalry did not attempt another attack?” asked Don. “They still have overwhelming numbers, yet they allowed the whole day to slip away.”

  “The survivors were in a panic, I think,” said Blackie. “We found a number of war spears thrown away. Five wounded were left to die along with six wounded war horses. Their retreat turned into a rout from the looks of it.”

  “Perhaps the panic was infectious,” suggested Slim. “Also, they had lost their leader, and they needed some time to reorganize.”

  “Raiders did not panic,” said Wilson, who had led the Diné scouts that had dogged the retreat. “Their leader kept them fighting good. They shot arrows at us and fell back. We shot arrows at them and advanced.”

  Don thought this over. Perhaps that did explain the sluggish reaction to this latest defeat. The first skirmish had stung them, clearly. The second battle, their Agincourt, had hurt them and seriously. But they still had overwhelming strength. It seemed clear that the enemy’s next move would be some kind of major attack, probably with infantry as well as cavalry. Balek Brown was still a threat.

  “How long can we hold this mesa?” asked Don. “I think we have done enough already to say that our mission is accomplished. Unless we did not get the latest message from the spy.”

  “No, Donald,” said Danny. “We recovered the message, and another one is not due for several days.”

  “We are not going to run away now, are we?” asked Bob, one of the Blade mount leaders. “I still want to say that I was in the fight.”

  “Everyone here will have bragging rights,” commented Blackie. “Don’t worry about that. You don’t seem to realize how big our victory was. I have never heard of such a thing in any of Ariel’s past battles, even going back to the elder days—or Bethuel’s either.”

  “What do you think, Danny?” asked Don.

  “I think it is best to let the young ones speak first,” said Danny. “If I speak now, they will be ashamed to talk. Tell us how long we can hold here, Nelson.”

  Nelson sat silent for several long minutes. Danny did not hurry him. The others began to look at each other, very uncomfortable at the long silence. Finally he spoke: “Sir Donald, and Mighty Danny, I should say nothing. But since you asked … I think we should finish moving our camp tomorrow. Let them come take this mesa. We do not need it. There are many other places that we can camp. Let them follow us. We can do what we always do and make them pay a price for every valley, hill and stream. That is my idea.”

  Danny asked again for comments. No one spoke.

  “We were able to get a message back to the marshall,” commented Slim, after a pause. “Perhaps he will have further orders.”

  “Perhaps,” said Don. “If so, that settles the matter. But he will probably let us decide when to pull back. Does anyone else have thoughts?”

  “We do have to be sure that we are not trapped here,” said Carl. “They cou
ld send that cavalry force to try to block our retreat, and then send an army up the western road. We could be caught between the hammer and the anvil.”

  “Clearly, we cannot defend this mesa with the forces that we have,” said Blackie. “I think we should do as Nelson said. We should transport all the supplies, as well as the captured arms and armor, at least part way back to Haven country. We should start tomorrow. We should keep two-day’s supply of food in our saddle bags. Everything else should go.”

  “Most of our stuff has already been moved except for the horse meat.” said Wilson. “So, I agree with Sir Blackie.” Danny nodded.

  “Very well,” said Don. “We will prepare to leave. Assign our scouts to take charge of the captured horses and ponies and take responsibility for moving the captured gear. The Diné are responsible for screening and scouting. Tell the troops that we will divide the captured coin according to the usual custom after we return to base. Commanders will oversee any sharing of captured weapons and armor. Make sure that no one overloads themselves or their mounts. Too much armor is worse than not enough!”

  There was some discussion, but Don had a hard time concentrating. A thousand details kept fluttering through his mind like a flock of doves. Finally, the meeting broke up. There was much to do before they could rest.

  Don snatched a few hours of sleep, then was up to see off the first pack train. They would travel north in the dark for two hours and cache the captured horse armor and saddles. They would then return and load up the rest and transport it north toward Ariel. They would not take the good road that diverted northwest to the Kolaroo Valley road, the Great Highway, but would instead swing farther east and link with the old road that went directly south from Ariel. Don would send a message and have wagons proceed south on that road to meet the pack train, and then return the captured horses and gear to Fort Baldy. If time permitted, they would return and recover the horse armor and saddles.