“Reckon not,” said Archibald. “We hain’t about to get back the way we came with Umfraville a’comin’ from that way, either!”
Robert thought.
John had the piece of pork from the grass completely downed and sucking on the rib bone. He was, once again, wondering how long it took for pig to cook.
“We’ll have to go by the Solway ford,” said Robert.
“Might run us down while we’re in the open,” said Archibald.
“We got a’plenty a’ horse,” returned Robert. “We’ll fight ‘em on the low ground!”
Archibald saw William near the pinfold and gave him a shrill whistle.
William turned to see his father waving for him to hurry forth. It took only seconds for him to close the gap.
“Pig cooked as yet, Milord?” asked John still hunkered on the ground close enough to the fire to get a good whiff of the cooking pig.
Archibald looked down at the lad saying, “Cooked now… eat!”
John smiled and reached for his reward. He burned his fingers before he realized he needed to get it on the point of his knife. Then he burned his lips.
“What?” asked William.
“Get us ready to head for the Solway,” answered Archibald. “We got Umfraville a’comin’ on us in short order!”
Soon the whole camp was busy saddling horses, packing kits and hitching what wains they had to haul the survivable wounded. The others would be left with a dagger to do with as they saw prudent.
Their prisoners were corralled and set off behind the great herd of animals walking north toward the Solway ford. The knights and men-at-arms would be on horses and remain the rear guard against any English army following them.
On the wall of Castle Carlisle old Ralph Neville watched and wondered, what are those sneaky Scotch fixin’ to do leavin’ in such a hurried manner.
He had no notion that his prayed-for relieve was so near by. But he would, soon enough.
August 21 - Afternoon
Castle Carlisle
“Twice in as many hours,” muttered Ralph Neville as he climbed the stone steps to the wall walk of Castle Carlisle again.
The old man laboriously reached the walk and his warden of the garrison greeted him with, “Milord, we have a new army at out gates.”
With no reaction to the warden’s say Neville pushed up on his toes and peered over the wall. What he saw was Lord Thomas Umfraville leading his knights, troopers, men-at-arms on horseback and footmen lining up outside his south gate. He smiled to himself as his eyes welled at the thought that Northumberland and the Umfravilles would come to save him.
“Get the goddamned gate open!” yelped Neville in a snap. “Do you not recognize the red and gold arms of Lord Umfraville!?”
“Yes, Milord!” replied the surprised warden, “The gate, Milord, yes… Right away, Milord!” The warden ran down the steps shouting orders to his men all the way to please his lord.
Sir Ralph turned to a nearby knight and ordered, “Accompany me to the bailey!”
After a ceremony inside the gate of prideful platitudes and no substance the two lords met on the dais in the great hall of the donjon over a hastily cobbled meal of fowl and beef saved back of late due to the fear of possible starvation during the siege.
“You understand, Henry Percy had us fightin’ in the night,” explained Thomas then plopped a piece of light colored breast meat into his mouth.
“At Otterburn?” asked Neville curiously.
“Two days back, ‘twas… Otterburn region, ‘twas,” continued Thomas.
“Did you win the battle?” asked Neville.
“Of course we won,” he said skimming the fantasized cream from the truth for he was long gone early in the conflict. “Just fightin’ the Scotch… we always win.”
“So, my grandson, Henry, was victorious?” said Neville from a deep breath of pride.
“And your namesake, Ralph, as well,” prattled Thomas. “All brave and chivalrous knights of England!”
“And Hotspur a’leadin’ them to victory,” added Sir Ralph pridefully accepting Thomas’ altered vision that was invented to keep any possible historical foot notes abated that implied he abandoned the battle before it even got fully started.
“I doubt if there’s a Scotchman alive on that hill this day,” continued Thomas in his politician manner. “All dead and gone from God’s green earth. Good riddance, says I!”
“There was a’plenty here’bouts,” said Neville anxious to tell his side of the trouble by the raiding Scots.
“Yes, I expected to come immediately to a fight, Lord Neville,” said the pontificating Thomas.
“They left soon back,” said Ralph. “Slow movin’, they were with that great selfish plunder of horse and beef.”
“Interesting,” said Thomas in a disinterested manner as he took another bite of food.
“You could catch them if you hurried,” encouraged Neville.
Thomas smiled at Ralph’s innocence. “And fight in the dark… again?!”
“You could chase them down a bit and fight in the morn,” suggested Ralph. I know where they’re bound… The fords at Burgh on Sands.”
“My dear Lord,” started Thomas tossing his head back and looking down his nose at his much older peer. “Have your garrison troops ready to be a’chasin’ the Scotch rabble at first light… like chivalrous men at arms ought to do! Your grandson, Hotspur, should take a lesson on that!”
“But he won, did he not?”
Thomas drank from his goblet for a chance to think. He replaced it back onto the table and into the same condensation ring from whence he got it then answered, “But fighting in the dark is so distasteful… and that part was all his fault,” Then he chose to end the subject of conversation before he slipped and hanged himself on his own fabricated rope.
Lord Thomas Umfraville was true to his word and ready to go at the first hint of light. He was bent on glory to cover his lies.
Lord Ralph Neville sallied his own garrison from the south gate inspired by the recent victory of his grandson, Hotspur, and bent on revenge for the siege.
“Where to Lord Neville?” asked Thomas as a courtesy more than any other reason.
“The Solway fords,” answered Neville and turned his horse toward the northwest.
August 22 - Early Morning
Burgh-on-Sands
The Solway Plains have a long and famous history. It was the site of a Roman fort that guarded the western terminal point of Hadrian’s Wall. Some propose the area to be the legendary land of Avalon where the sword Excalibur was forged and where King Arthur died. Oddly enough it was where King Edward I, an Arthurian enthusiast, also died in 1307 taking an army across the fords into Scotland to attack King Robert the Bruce.
Old man Jessup came from his clay dabbin and into his tool shed of no more than woven tree branches and a thatch to retrieve a scythe to be used to began his day of August harvest of his two furlongs of wheat.
As he left the shed he saw on the horizon a great herd of animals heading his way. Fear was his first thought. His second was anger for he knew his crop that was only a quarter cut was doomed by the many trampling hooves and hungry mouths headed his way.
He replaced his scythe on the wall of branches and went into his one room house to fetch his wife.
“Trouble this way, comes, wife,” he said trying to be calm.
She could tell, however, that it was serious and she immediately clamored to stuff clothes, a cook pot and a pan and wood-carved utensils into a gunnysack. “How far?” she asked.
“Comin’ over the Jones furlong now… normal walk for kine, it is,” he replied as he did his own packing of small tools. He continued to glance out his doorway at his oncoming disaster.
Soon Jessup and his wife were on their way to kin and neighbors down the lane and beyond for what they hoped would be out of harms way.
The herd that was made up of as many horses as there were bovines and oxen and few pigs was sl
ow traveling even though it had been only eight miles from Castle Carlisle to their destination of Burgh on Sands, it had taken yesterday’s afternoon and into the night and again that morn.
“There ‘tis,” happily said Sir William Douglas pointing down the hill and across the water at the low undulating countryside. “Scotland!”
His father rode up beside him and looked across the landscape. Some of the herd had already worked its way half way down the gentle green slope toward the water.
“Scotland’s there, ‘tis well,” replied Archibald, “‘ecpt we’re trapped… on this side.”
“Trapped?” said William.
“High tide ‘tis, son,” came back Archibald. “And ye just know Umfraville is behind us and bearin’ down at full gallop.”
“Ought not get caught on that mushy ground near the water when they get here, I think,” opined William pulling at his chin beard.
“Right ye are, son,” agreed Archibald. We ought to make our stand here on the high ground before it slopes off.”
Archibald stopped the herd from further travel and conferred with Earl Robert.
“We need to get a man to the water’s edge to see if it’s goin’ up or goin’ down,” advised Robert first off.
“Then we need to array for a full frontal attack,” advised Archibald. “Any word from the scouts we left along the trail?”
“Not heard as yet,” said Robert.
“That means they did not leave last evenin’,” replied Archibald.
“And if they left at first light they’ll be here by high sun,” calculated Robert shifting in his saddle to see where and how their army was spread out.
“All depends on the tide water,” said Archibald.
“I’ll go figure it,” said William cheerfully.
Archibald nodded his approval and William with a retinue of four close-by knights went on toward the water.
Robert looked at Archibald and then the landscape of mostly farm plots of growing food.
“Any way to use the herd?” asked Archibald.
“Ye mean to run them into the chargin’ knights?” asked Robert.
“I mean that,” replied Archibald.
“Not a’riskin’ what we bled to get,” said Robert seeming to be pragmatic.
“Might be bleedin’ more for the sake of the plunder,” gainsaid Archibald.
“I figure to take the herd down to the water edge and keep it there ‘til we can move across the ford at low tide,” snapped Robert narrowing his eyes.
“Then what?” asked Archibald.
“We’ll put some men in that wood yon,” he said pointing to his right at a close copse. “Then more in the wood over yonder,” he further explained.
“And we’ll stand here and suck them into the middle?” questioned Archibald.
“Aye,” replied Robert.
“I like it all except puttin’ the men on the left,” said Archibald. “‘Tis too far away from our position. Surprise flanking would not work.”
Robert grumped. He did not like to be rubbed against so roughly. “If we’re still here when Umfraville gets here,” he said meaning he was not conceding but if they were forced to fight he would agree with Douglas.
“Might as well feed the men while we wait,” said Archibald.
Robert wheeled his horse saying, “Reckon I’ll see about the tides myself.”
“Don’t trust my son?” questioned Archibald.
“Just don’t like the waitin’,” he said setting spurs to his destrier.
Archibald shrugged his shoulders and sent a squire to round up his knights to plan how they were going to defend their position if the English came before they could escape across the fords.
Along about high sun one of the expected spies came roaring into the camp from the back of his small nimble horse. Archibald stood in the open and waved his hands to let the spy know where to alight. There had been three other spies returned during the morning and so they well knew the Umfraville and Neville forces were on their way.
“Close, they are, Milord,” shouted the scout before getting his foot from his stirrup, “Half mile I’d figure, Milord!”
Archibald nodded as he caught the young man in mid fall from his saddle. “Ye in a hurry, laddie?” teased the earl.
The man smiled as he straightened himself up saying, “Aye, Milord. Hurry, I’m in… Them a’comin’ are a scary lot when yer by yerself.”
The two laughed, as well as the men within earshot.
Archibald looked behind him to see how the bed of the firth was drying out. It was close but not enough to get the herd across. “Reckon we’ll set for war!”
The whole field appeared to be a colony of ants as the word spread and the men went into their various directions according to Archibald’s plan.
Robert appeared beside the earl saying, “Everything ready?”
“Aye,” was the reply. “Ye be a’ridin’ by my side?”
“My honor,” said Robert seemingly having a change of attitude for no apparent reason.
“When will we be able to get across?” asked Douglas.
“We’re a’gonna have to whip the English fully ere we can leave,” answered Robert sullenly.
“No escape, ye a’sayin’?” asked Archibald.
“Run them off or die in the tryin’,” opined Robert.
Archibald gave the expected signal and the knights on horseback and the mounted men-at-arms who were well armed and well armored sallied forward toward mid field as the van battle.
The archers were easily within range of the front copse from where the combined army of Neville and Umfraville was expected to emerge according to the spy reports.
“Don’t reckon Umfraville would make an unexpected maneuver, do ye?” asked Robert casually.
“Umfraville’s a cockscomb,” replied Archibald. “He has no passion for anything out of the ordinary.”
Robert nodded and drew rein along with Archibald.
The rest of their army halted as well.
They were set and waiting for their enemy to appear out of the line of trees.
Just as expected the English army did emerge from the tree line and spread the field wide.
“Ye want the van?” asked Robert as they watched the English knights line up.
“I don’t mind suckin’ them in for ye,” answered Archibald. “Just be ready when we fade back.”
Robert smirked. “Bring them on to me. We’ll kill every whoreson English bastard that comes within reach of our blades.”
“Then yer job is set, my friend,” said Archibald.
“‘Tis, at that,” replied Robert as he wheeled his horse and with twenty of his closest knights l went to the edge of the crest before the land sloped off downhill to the firth, wheeled again and stood the ground.
“Why you reckon Fife went to the back?” asked Sir Ralph Neville suspiciously.
“Don’t know,” answered Umfraville. “The ones in front are the ones to worry about though.” He looked up and down his line to see that his men were all arrayed in good order.
Across the field Archibald and his horsemen sat stoically waiting.
It was Umfraville’s move.
The English archers were behind the knights and men-at-arms. They had one arrow nocked in the string and three more in their belt loops with their propped up shields in front of them.
Sir Thomas Umfraville raised his hand to give the order. Every man there standing was suddenly fully alert by the excited shiver that transformed their spines from ordinary bone to steel.
He dropped his hand with a loud war cry of “Percy!! – Percy!!” for the sake of Hotspur.
The line of warriors across both contingents started their van charge at each other.
The Scottish archers, knowing their counterparts on the English side were up to the same trick as they were, let loose their first sortie of arrows bound for the charging first line of knights. The three other arrows were shot in succession and before the first a
rrows were felt the last had left the string. They then grabbed up the shields, put them over their heads and squatted in the dirt. One sortie was targeting them and they were glad for their shields. Their part of the battle as bowmen had come and gone within a half moment’s time. Their loss in dead was no more than five with another seven wounded.
The knights poised their swords, axes and maces as they came close to one another.
Then crash!!
Weapons and blood were abundantly flying in every direction as the explosion of steel clashed hard at the first strike. Soon the men turned to one on one combat and glorious war cries turned to a sad cacophony of grunts and screams mixed with the small explosions of swords and other weapons striking in odd measures of cold anger and self preserving fear.
Archibald backed his horse from the line and blew a hard short double-blast on his hunting horn.
The Scottish archers turned and ran putting their shields on their backs.
The men-at-arms and the knights ceased their fight, wheeled their horses and ran away with Archibald leading them.
Umfraville seemed to be dazed in half motion as he saw the backs of famed warriors running from them.
“On them while they fail!!” shouted Umfraville to the top of his glory inflated lungs.
Neville was again suspicious and grabbed Umfraville by the arm to halt his radical decision but got nothing more from his excited Lord that a rude jerk to be unhanded in his moment of imagined triumph.
The English soldiery followed Thomas Umfraville across the field running down what they presumed were deserters.
They got within fifty yards of the crest line when Archibald turned and faced them again.
It was then that Umfraville was himself suspicious as the edges of the wooded area to the side poured more men-at-arms circling behind them cutting down the stragglers.
The English twisted around in confusion as horsed warriors were being dragged off their mounts with bill hooks, put on the ground and killed with short swords.
Umfraville decided to attack in front of him where Archibald’s fewest number were.
Earl Robert’s loud, crisp whistle brought a whole new contingent of Scots who had been waiting down the hill and out of Umfraville’s line of sight.
Games of Otterburn 1388 Page 31
