Games of Otterburn 1388 (18 page)

They rushed the worn and disillusioned knights killing them in as savage a manner as came to their opportunity to do.

Ralph Neville continued to watch while still balancing on the knight’s beleaguered head. From the wall walk he had seen his warden fall to Archibald’s hammer-axe and thought of how he would no longer need to put his good name in jeopardy with the king by submitting the name of Easley as a curried favor.

He then calculated his cost in lives to displeasure his enemy and get a message to his son-in-law, Earl Henry Percy, to come help save Castle Carlisle. As he came to a conclusion of his winning and losing with his early morning’s work, he was well satisfied.

There were moans coming from every part of the field from both English and Scots.

Montgomery
came to Archibald. Both of them were covered in the splatter and run of blood and sweat.

“They got a rider off toward the east, Milord,” advised
Montgomery
. “Want me to go after him?”

“
Nae
,” replied Archibald, “Be at least five days ere they get more men to here. We’ll be way gone by then.”

“How many we lose?” asked
Montgomery
.

“No notion but there’s
a’plenty
that’s been hacked a time or two and no more. Might mend, might not.”

“I think that was their thought,” he said in response. “Cut as many as they could so they would have to mend.”

“‘
Twern’t
honorable,” said Archibald, “I can tell
ye
that.”

“Sun’s
goin
’ to be up to full light soon,” said
Montgomery
. “Best move back a bit.”

“Yer right, I had no
reckonin
’ they could reach us with arrows.”

“Better longbows, they have, than we got,” opined
Montgomery
.

“They did their business good,” said the earl. “I don’t like what they did but we were mighty bad whipped.”

“How can we strike back?” asked
Montgomery
glancing across the field while wiping blood from a drying face wound.

“When I’m finished here they’ll ne’er do that again,” replied Archibald gritting his jaw muscles tight enough for
Montgomery
to easily see a bulge in the earl’s whiskers.

August 16 - Early Morning

Newcastle-upon-Tyne

The sentinel came from the West Gate guard tower onto the wall walk. It was the bare beginning of morning light but he was taunted with the smell of fresh bacon put to fire.

“You
smellin
’ pig?” asked his peer coming from a close smaller turret.

“Where ye reckon it’s
comin
’ from?”

“Out town, I reckon,” said the first man.
“
Gettin
’ up early this day.”

“Wind’s not
comin
’ from there.”

The first man peered up at the flapping Saint George flag atop the tower and saw that indeed the wind was coming from the west. He was suspicious and drew his sword setting it on the edge of the crenellated stone wall to look into the darkness. There before his eyes was a hundred or so little fires burning on the ground. He gasped, squinted and threw his body against the wall to see better and when he did he hit his sword and the last he saw of his weapon was the hilt as it made its way to the moat at the bottom of the wall.

“Damned luck!” he cursed when he heard the splash.

“Damned
bad
luck to lose yer sword,” warned his friend with little sympathy.

“What you reckon about those fires?!”

“They ain’t inside the walls, is all I say,” said the guard, “and I still got my sword.”

“Get the garrison warden!” ordered the man beginning to get a shiver of fear.

“Get him yourself if you want,” returned the second guard.

The first man stared at his cohort. “You know I’m your higher.”

“You ain’t and I know there’s
nothin
’ out there to be scared of, either!” was the quick jab back.

“Shit. I ain’t scared,” said the first, “let me borrow your sword. I can’t go to the warden without a sword.”

“Sword?” said the second getting more aggravated by the moment, “You’ll not be
a’gettin
’
my
good sword… You have a big dagger. Pretend!”

Suddenly there was a call that rang out loud and clear from the opposite side of the double towered gate, “Fires on the ground! Report to the warden!
There’s fires
on the ground among the serf huts!”

“See,” said the second man, “it got reported and ‘
tain’t
nothin
’ to it but serfs.”

“You could yell out that it smells like pig
cookin
’,” said the first guard.

“I’m not
yellin
’ out
nothin
’,”
said the second.

Just then the door opened on the tower and the warden stepped onto the wall walk. “What fires?”

“Yonder, Milord,” said the first befuddled guard pointing over the wall toward the huts.

“Where’s your sword, soldier?” snapped the warden.

“Moat… Milord,” said the man meekly.

“Get another and get back here right away!” he again barked.

“Aye, Milord,” he groveled as he made his way to the tower where the steps that lead to the ground floor were and not knowing what to do about his lost and only sword.

The warden then turned his attention to why he was primarily there. He stared hard into the bareness of the light and saw not only the hundred small fires but flapping in the light morning breeze and glinted by close burning fires was the war-banner of Earl James Douglas.

“Damned
stinkin
’ Scotch!” he barked aloud. His voice was somewhere between surprise and fear. “Ring the bell!”

The second guard ran down the wall walk to the tower where the bell was mounted and gave it a long, loud and frantic ringing.

The warden of the garrison then lit out for the keep to report to Adam Buckham and the burgesses and they in turn awoke Lord Henry Percy.

On the ground and outside the walls George Dunbar said, “Fair to say they know we’re here.”

“Fair to say,” agreed James Douglas so far pleased with his surprise cock’s call.

On the wall men-at-arms, with sleep still in their eyes, adjusting their clothing and weapons, ran fast up the tower’s circular steps and onto the wall walk. Within minutes the wall was well lined with bobbing heads staring into the darkness at the fires and smelling the cooking pig that began to give
them
growls in their stomachs.

The serfs who worked the fields surrounding the town and lived outside the walls in their hovels also were startled awake with the ringing of the bell. As they came out they were surprised to be within the company of Scottish warriors who made no attempt to harm them but did no more than huddle them up in a group.

The reticent workers had no thought as to how to respond and so did nothing but do as they were told.

“What ye reckon them in the castle
are
a’thinkin
’?
asked
Adara.

“Don’t know,” admitted Mungan whittling the branches off a stout stick making a spear shaft by the light of one of the fires. “Surprised, I reckon.”

Adara was excited but she dare not show it for fear her presence would be chaffing for the others after all she was the only woman among the contingent of warriors who had been away from home too long.

“Be lighter enough soon,” said George.

“I figure,” replied
Douglas
smiling.

“They’re
goin
’ to know
we
hain’t but about a thousand
layin
’ siege to their town,” came back George.

“We hain’t
a’layin
’ siege,” said
Douglas
.

“Ye might think as such but them in the castle are
goin
’ to be
a’thinkin
’ different. Wait ‘til
it’s
light and the arrows start
a’flyin
’,” remarked George.

“I fear they’ll start
shootin
’ arrows in the dark,” said
Douglas
.

“Then I don’t know what yer
thinkin
’ at all, Milord,” said George getting aggravated, “
Offerin
’ them some of our one last pig, I reckon!”

Douglas
smiled. “Keep yer shield handy.”

Hotspur Henry and his brother Ralph hurried to the West Gate tower, up the steps to the wall walk and peered over the thick wall. The daylight was showing more.

“We got bowmen on the wall?” asked Hotspur immediately.

Aye Milord,” answered the close standing warden who had just returned.

Hotspur did not ask more but stood and watched the morning light progressively reveal more about the enemy at his gate.

The tenseness on the wall walk made the men shiver with anticipation.

Soon Hotspur shouted in disbelief, “Ain’t but ten of the bastards!”

“Scotchmen are devious, Milord,” warned the warden.

Hotspurs own words rang back into his ears and he growled in confusion. He thought of what his father had said to him as a counter warning, too.

“Hot pig for yer morning repast, Lord Henry?” shouted out
Douglas
knowing Hotspur must be on the wall by then.

Anger flared in Henry’s head. His gauntleted fist pounded the stone that held him fast to respond in a physical attack. He calmed a bit and shouted back, “That you, Douglas?”

“
A’waitin
’ yer company, Lord Henry.