Games of Otterburn 1388 (50 page)

Thomas Waltham was of little help in bringing them any useful news as he
laid
out on the ground and involuntarily passed into sleep.

Because the Scots had trained to various scenarios John Dunbar knew James Douglas was about to break through Hotspur’s right flank. “
Douglas
!! –
Douglas
!!” he yelled as loud as he could hoping to create a diversion for
Douglas
’ ‘grand’ entrance.

 
Other men there fighting picked up the slogan and added to the repetitive chant.

The English countered with their own loud, “Percy!!
– Percy!!”

From the right flank
Douglas
knew John’s purpose as he came to the edge of the covering copse. He gave the order to his standard bearer, Davy Coleville, to unfurl his quartered banner.

Douglas
anxiously waited while the nervous lad twisted the staff. He at last got the cloth into the air.

Douglas
war cried with, “
Douglas
!! –
Douglas
!!” and his men followed the war cries as they swarmed Hotspur’s right flank.

Hotspur had had the advantage up to that point. He was expecting a surprise but had no thought as to anything of substance. He and his fighting men were at a complete shock. Suddenly he had two fronts that were attacking him and he wondered where Redman and Ogle were in the scheme of surrounding
Douglas
’ backside.

Hotspur’s spearmen turned to meet the new threat emerging out of the wood. The height of the moon in relation to the treetops shadowed much of the available light in that lower part of the land.

The madding mix of war cries heavily added to the darkened battlefield as the armies clashed head on from every direction.

Earl George heard the distinct hunting horn blast from his advanced guard.

The army of Lord Thomas Umfraville knew they were expected just as much as Earl George knew they were coming.

“Ready archers!” commanded George as he strained his eyes for the shadow army to top the crest.

The archers placed all of their arrows upright in the dirt before them except the ones they nocked in their bowstrings.

They were ready.

Adara saw the men in the wood fidgeting for action and knew it was time for her to be brave.

The English ready to ambuscade George heard only a rustle in the bush behind them then a vague silhouette crossing the field going toward the north barricade fast saying in a loud not yelling voice, “Milord, Milord!”

George turned toward the voice and saw her coming fast on him. One of his archers turned toward her and drew this bow.

“Hold yer shot,” said George sternly.

One of the Englishmen in the wood was an archer and drew back his own bow in the blind hope of killing her before she could tell.

The released barb was a fortunate flight for it clipped her left upper arm without sticking. The shock of the hit made her scream and the English archer thought she was killed. George got to her fast enough to hear the words, “Yon English in the wood mean ye harm, Milord,” then she went faint.

Redman’s men spurred their horses and were clear of the wood within three strides of their horses.

George cried out, “
Comin
’ to get us!! – This side!
This side!!”

Archers on the left side turned to retrain their missiles on the twenty or so English coming on strong.

They released their arrows at the dark quick riders and loaded another in their bowstrings.

The bowmen knew they were effective when they heard the screams of fallen men and the wild whinnies of their wounded horses as they thudded to the ground.

“More
a’comin
’ from this side!” shouted William Lindsay.

By her right arm George dragged Adara back to the barricade and saw the van force of Umfraville’s men riding hard for their position.

The archers drew back their bowstrings and waited for the order that was quick to come. “Loose!”

Barbs were released.

Evidence of their effectiveness was heard in both directions. The remainder of Redman’s renegades scattered when they realized more than half of them were on the dark ground either dead or moaning out desperate prayers. Their gambit to take high level prisoners was at an end. Then George and his men could concentrate on the larger part of Umfraville’s contingent as they were bearing down on them at a full gallop with little sense of the terrain ahead.

George was heated by the boisterous shouts of the, “
Douglas
!! –
Douglas
!!” down the hill from his position where he knew the main battle with James Douglas was taking place.

The archers grabbed their remaining arrows from the ground and backed away allowing the two rows of spearmen to man the logs when the attackers came close in.

The archers followed Sir Patrick of Dunbar, cousin to the earls, when he realized they had a certain advantage in the darkness. He placed the archers to the left flank of the aggressors and ordered them to shoot to kill as many men as they could clearly see silhouetted in the backlight of the rising moon.

They were deadly with straight shots rather than lofted volleys even at moving targets. They knocked many poor warriors from their mounts before they reached the wall of spears George had working as a schiltrom.

The barricade of logs thrown up quickly was not the ideal defense for horsed knights and men-at-arms but it did prove to be effective.

“They can’t see a damned thing!” said George watching the shadows coming toward them.

“We’re just as blind as they are,” commented William Lindsay holding up his sword in anticipation.

“Not quite,” growled George, “I can see plenty are
fallin
’ from
bein
’ arrow shot.

“Why in hell’s name did they decide to attack at night?” asked David Lindsay as he moved closer to the two commanders.

“Who
knows.
Their choice… not ours,” back said George.

“Here they come,” advised David as they heard the initial crush of horse flesh and bone suddenly hitting hard tree trunks they were not expecting.

The riders were thrown over the impediment and the second line made up of men-at-arms quickly killed the stunned first riders.

“Can we take these men as prisoners rather than kill them?” asked young David.

“And who can watch them?” gainsaid William as a second line not aware of the fate of the first thin wave met their own death except for one English knight who drew short rein and wheeled his horse quickly to avoid hitting the barricade or the outward pointed spears. That man retreated to where Lord Thomas Umfraville sat his horse ordering his men to senseless death.

“Milord,” started the knight, “We’re no good aboard our horses in this dark!”

“So you say?” answered Lord Thomas.

“Looks to me the van was swallowed up,” he explained.
“We’ve got dead and
dyin
’ from here to the Scotch lines!”

“Are you a coward, knight?” said Thomas snarling.

“What I’m
tellin
’ you is true, Milord,” said the knight drawing his eyes narrow.

Thomas was impressed but did not want to appear to be taking advice from the young knight so he said, “You lead the next van wave!”

The knight tightened his lips knowing Lord Thomas had ordered him to his death. “So be it, Milord!” he said angrily. He drew his sword and turned his horse to lead his charge of one against the Scots awaiting his arrival.

His stallion hit the barricade hard breaking both forelegs before a stout spear held in stout hands went through his neck spraying blood over the nearby Scots. The knight mercifully died quickly impaled on another spear held from the second rank.

“Huh,” was the Lord’s only expression to his knight’s involuntary gasp and the horse’s scream heard in the blackness.

He ordered his men to dismount and pursue the enemy on foot.

“Here comes more,” said a bowman to Patrick of Dunbar. The archers were still crouched close to the ground and keeping an eye on the rising moon that appeared to them to be the biggest moon they had ever seen, so they thought at that moment.

 
“How many arrows ye got left?” asked Patrick.

“‘Bout one to three each, I reckon,” he replied in a low voice.

“Rise up and see how many ye can kill with what’s left,” ordered Patrick.

“Aye,” said the archer getting to his feet and loosing his two last arrows. Two of Umfraville’s men fell.

The other bowmen took the cue and shot their last at the oncoming English foot.

“Draw swords,” said Patrick getting his own in the air.

The attacking English warriors got to the barricade swinging and whacking at the out thrust pike heads. Some Scots took men before they were forced to back away from their position tight behind the logs.

The second line started punching the English overrunning their fort with their long spears as they had come to the end of easy pickings. Dear blood would have to be paid to achieve more dead English.

The battle line broadened as neither side wanted to give up fought-for ground. More men were engaged as each tried to outflank the other.

The archers had given up their bows for their swords and attacked the right flank of the English.

The struggle to maintain life while meting out death became primary to the individuals.

The Scots were pushed down the slope.

“Suppose we’ve won as yet?” asked Lord Thomas loosing none of his sense of detachment from his fighters.

“Too dark to tell, Thomas,” said his
brother
Robert sitting high in his saddle beside him.

“We’ll go see,” said Thomas sallying his horse toward the din of the close skirmish.

Robert kicked his horse to follow.

The pair and their contingent of twenty more close yeomen came over the crest where the sounds of fighting and dying were considered very close at hand and Thomas without warning drew rein to listen.

“What you
a’hearin
’?” asked Robert coming to his side.

Lord Thomas was amazed and could not ascertain any meaning from the grunts and screams of the near part of the battle than he could a hundred paces back.

“Time to leave, Robert,” said he with no sympathy in his voice
nor
in his eyes for his fighting men. “No need to throw good others into the fray when you can’t tell a win from a loss.”

“What about Hotspur?” asked Robert as he wheeled with his
brother.

“Lord Henry Percy can save his own arse. We must save our remaining men for
Carlisle
,” replied Lord Thomas. “Our own Sir Ralph must be saved.”