Games of Otterburn 1388 (51 page)

“Tomorrow?” asked Robert.

“I figure to get as far away from this field as we can tonight,” he replied. “Two days it will take to get to
Carlisle
so we can take on Earl Archibald in
daylight
.”

And as it happened Lord Thomas and Robert rode back into the Otter Valley and turned southwest with the bulk of their army intact leaving those who were engaged in combat with the Scots to their own fate, which fast became puny to poor. Those who realized there was no help forthcoming yielded and were taken prisoners.

Earl George retained a good majority of his army. He left a small contingent of pickets in the outreaches of the battlefield’s north section while he went to the center of the camp to study out where best to apply his freshly released troops.

Douglas and his men loudly shouted their slogan, “
Douglas
!! –
Douglas
!!” as they strongly charged the right flank of Hotspur’s surprised contingent. The close English warriors of that flank had little chance of switching fronts and the first spearmen of the Scot’s line made short work of dispatching those unfortunate brave men.
Douglas
used the momentum of that first blow to push tighter with success.

The war cry slogan of a thousand dedicated men’s voices with such excited energy had a tendency to weaken the otherwise doughty English who were worn from their day’s journey, thrown immediately into the furnace of battle with Scots bent on their destruction at all cost.

John Dunbar was rallied by the chanting thousand and renewed his vow to press boldly onward. Sir John Sinclair and Sir John Maxwell trading hard blows with the English men-at-arms were also inspired and added renewed energy into their efforts.

From the English left flank near the servant’s camp the battle was lost for the Scots as the young, untrained men and boys had been out maneuvered and out numbered.

With twelve of his servants and only nine left of the regular spearmen sent to him earlier, Sir John Swinton decided to abandon the servant’s camp and join the main battle. Sir Alexander Ramsey agreed. The twenty-three men and older lads moved uphill to find a place of entry into the ongoing hot battle.

Much of Hotspur’s straggling foot army had caught up to one another and was backed up to somewhere east of
Otterburn
Village
. Thirty-two miles of walking in the heat of the day wearing sweaty, hefty armor and carrying several weapons up a road that was little more than a cow-path in the wilderness was all they could manage. Their wobbly legs could go no further without rest, water and food.

As they laid about resting in unruly clumps the townsfolk realized their relieving army was in need and began the distribution of foodstuffs as they had them and water to the weary men who were closest to the town.

Other hungry soldiers who got little or no attention took to raiding the few buildings and homes as they found them. The townsfolk worried it would get much worse come the dawn.

Some of the warriors went to the far end of the town to jump into the dark flowing river with all their clothes and armor on just to get cool.

As many buckets as could be found were stolen and used to ferry drinking water to friends still laying about along the road too sore and too ambitionless to move from their acquired sedentary spots.

The town fathers and warriors stayed buttoned in their stone tower. Through the narrow windows they heard the stories told by the citizens whose good intentions had gotten them their bad plight.

The fathers had no way to help against such overwhelming odds and thus the citizens were again forced to seek sanctuary in the copsewood taking with them whatever little food they had left.

As they soon enough found, the English common manners were no better than those of the Scots.

The moon, for whatever the wan light it provided, was suddenly taken from them when a thick cloud moved across the sky making the whole of the area as black as the darkest obsidian.

The intermixture of men in the heat of killing one another was immediately halted for fear of killing friends as well as foes. Everyone was then frozen in time and in place. The main battlefield became quiet and all that was heard were the moans of the wounded who were struggling with their agonizing pain.

As the moments wore there was heard snoring from the worn English taking advantage of the unanticipated respite.

James Douglas was heard saying prayers for a victory. He was joined by those who were close around him. He dared not shut his eyes for fear the moonlight would return to them at any moment or for the whole of the night be gone.

“Get to yer chore,
laddie
,” said Earl George giving the scout John a friendly pat on the back then he was approached by John Swinton and Alexander Ramsey. The men were not far into their discussion when the dark came upon them.

George looked up to see the last of the moon being stripped of her light. “That might just be the end of it,” he said.

There was nothing more to say than to agree with the possibility so Swinton blandly said, “Reckon it might,”

“What’s happened at the servant’s camp?” asked George.

“Got overrun, we did, Milord,” said Swinton. “It was Redman from Berwick. I recognized his banner… Don’t know who the other one was.”

“How many ye have left?” asked George who had been searching for an entry point for getting into the main fray.

“Just twenty-three of us are left,” interjected Alexander.

“Rest killed?” asked George.

“Run off mostly,” explained Swinton. “Too young and inexperienced, they were.”

“They were never meant to fight horsed men-at-arms anyway,” put in George. “Our herd still down there?”

“For now it is,” he replied then added, “Some of the English found our cache of whisky and are
gettin
’ drunk.”

“How’d ye do on the north side?” asked Swinton when George looked upward to see if any relief on the moon was forthcoming anytime soon.

“‘
Twas
Umfraville
come
to kill us from that side,” returned George. “Killed a good many and took a good many prisoner but from what I can figure, the most part ran off back into the valley.”

“How ye figure?” asked Swinton.

“
Talkin
’ to the prisoners,” George said matter-of-factly.

Within the main muddle of stinking men and gore from those who were prematurely forced from their ghost, the ones anxiously awaiting the repeal of the slow moving cloud played havoc with their minds.

One of the Scots hearing a close man in the dark speaking in what he took as an English accent thought to get ahead of the return to the killing and with his axe struck hard in the direction of the voice. There was the expected loud scream and the fall to the ground but the sinking surprise came when he heard the same voice call his name from the bloody grass and saying somebody had killed him and asking him to tell mother good bye.

In the dark the man dropped to his knees and with groping fingers felt for his dying brother and hugged him tight in his arms and with tears streaming begged forgiveness to the deaf ears of his life long companion he had so casually killed more on a whim than any other reason.

Sir James Douglas grew more set to win his battle the more he stood in the dark among his enemies. His patience grew short and the quiet gnawed at his mind that had been set for war and the opportunity for that war had been suddenly withdrawn. He fretted and fidgeted to get back to his ‘game’ as he considered it. He wondered what he could do to further his ambition while he had limited choices.

Knowing his good squires were close by as they always were, he spoke into the darkness, “Start the chant!”

Davy Coleville was the first to understand his near cryptic meaning and with his loud voice began, “
Douglas
!!
–
Douglas
!!”

James’ thousand were quick to add their voices to the darkened clamor.

Hotspur also caught to idea quickly by shouting, “Percy!!
– Percy!!”
Until the perception of the whole bloody land was changed from darkness to a din of rekindled anger and human will ready to impress themselves upon their enemy.

Douglas
looked to the heavens and prayed again that the cloud was alone and would quickly pass before the voices of his men and their spike of enthusiasm wilted from exhaustion.

The eyes of many of the men were beginning to adjust to the darkened conditions and they were seeing vague images maneuvering slowly.

“My long-handled axe,” ordered
Douglas
over the shouting.

With the head of the axe held down Davy passed it to where he figured his liege lord stood and bumped it on his forearm.

Douglas
sank his sword into its sheath and took the hefty double-headed axe with both hands. He looked again at the starless welkin and without rationalizing his thoughts reminded God of his prayer.

Whether it was for good or for ill, as suddenly as the light had been denied it was returned to the greater brightness.

Douglas
seemed to have had been forewarned of the light’s return for he yelped his war whoop as loudly as he could and started swinging his axe widely from one side to the other. The startled English caught the brunt of the strong blows as he walked straight into them.

The Scots were fully energized by the boldness of
Douglas
seizing the moment and his bravery for wading into the enemy so successfully. They ran behind him swinging their swords and other long handled weapons of their choice in the manner of their leader and much to the chagrin of those who were in the path of the hefty swings.

John Dunbar and his men were caught in the euphoric moment and pushed forward against the plentiful English warriors.

The Scots were shouting the loudest as they moved forward motivated by their beloved leader, James Douglas.

Earl George rushed to the wattle barricade to see the disposition of the Scots.

Swinton and Ramsey were tight on his heels.

“I see my brother’s banner yon,” he said as he pointed directly into the crowd. “Here is where we can best bring our eight hundred men and be effective against our enemy.”

The thin line of spearmen initially left along the wattle had since gone over and joined the mêlée. The barricade had served its purpose well in containing the rampant spread of English across the whole of the field.

When George left to fetch his men Swinton looked at Ramsey and the wordless question was mutually agreed upon. They both crossed the waist-high wattle together and their twenty men did not hesitate to follow.

Hotspur found he no longer was able to take forward steps but in fact was pushed backward by the press of his own men surrounding him which was mirrored by his spurts of enthusiasm countered by his lethargic moments. Yet within those highs and lows he persevered killing and maiming as many as came to him to try their fortune at capturing perhaps the grandest ransom prize on the whole field.

Douglas
’ Chaplain, Richard
Lundie
, picked up his lord’s banner high still chanting his slogan and supposedly following him into the heaviest part of the English knights and men-at-arms. He was, however, soon separated from Douglas and the others being swept along on a tide of war crying Scots who thought him to be the Douglas himself.