Games of Otterburn 1388 (54 page)

He fantasized that if he had waited ‘til first light before he left to report that he too would be dead. But what preyed heaviest on his mind was that he was the only one who could warn his countrymen at
Carlisle
that they were about to be set upon by Umfraville’s considerable force.

He glanced around again not believing that the English archers that kept watch over the movements of the army and killing scouts like him who could tell their secrets, would not wait for him to return to claim their second kill.

He took a last look at his friend and left him just as he found him. He got back aboard his horse and made tracks toward the River Tyne where he knew the English had to go to get to
Carlisle
efficiently.

To avoid them he knew he had to trust that their ultimate destination was
Carlisle
and take the far riskier and longer trail through the mountains in the hope he would reach
Carlisle
in time.

August 20 - Early Morning

Along the road from

Newcastle
to Otterburn

And so it happened that Walter Skirlaw did, later that night, get on the road toward Otterburn with about two thousand, five hundred troops. Some that came with him from the Bishopric of Durham and others from the northern portion of
Yorkshire
had run off in the early evening while they were camped outside the walls at
Newcastle
.

Before leaving he went through the streets of
Newcastle
spiritually brow-beating the lay-about soldiery left by Hotspur who had that very morning made his mad fly from the gates of the town without bothering to scoop those drunken military derelicts from their hiding holes.

The bishop had the moon to guide his way along the treacherous road but he grew weary after ten or so miles of riding his bony-backed horse and convinced himself that surely Lord Henry had to rest as well and would not be warring on the Scots before a sleep and a good hearty breakfast in the light of day.

So the moving army stopped for the night.

The early morning of the twentieth brought a harsh dose of reality when he and his men arose and after they had taken a bit of dried meat and hard biscuit the first of the fleeing warriors from the battle brought word of the disaster that had befallen Lord Henry Percy’s army.

“Do you think we should proceed?” spoke Skirlaw in hushed tones as he and Boynton turned their back to all of the others.

“This is but one man, your grace,” advised Boynton, “of course we must proceed… Hotspur needs these hearty men all the more.”

“I pray I was not wrong in tarrying here for a moment of sleep and victuals,” said Skirlaw overtoned by a thin layer of guilt.

“‘
Twas
as much my decision as yours, Your Grace,” said Boynton graciously alleviating the bishop from his remorse. He hoped God would look favorably on his useful lie.

“Yes, I remember your say,” spoke Skirlaw. “We must get to the business of saving Sir Henry… now!”

“Yes,
Your
Grace… We must!” replied Boynton climbing aboard his horse.

Skirlaw called a youth to his side to order him to offer his hands for the cleric’s foot so he could get into the saddle. The boy did such and when the pressure was put on his fingers he let out a loud grunt. Nobody dared laugh.

Walter Skirlaw got into his saddle.

The bishop imagined himself as a great Christian soldier wresting the
Holy Land
from the Saracens. “Glory for God and for us all!!” he dramatically shouted loud enough so that no more than fifty heard it. He drew his sword and raised it high over his head as he set spurs to his purple draped warhorse and waved for his men to follow him to a glory that was playing out in his own mind.

The already weary men followed not in a military order but more to a fashion of deviant pigs rummaging through an oak and chestnut wood rooting out the devil’s own exotic forbidden truffles.

August 20 - Early Morning

Blakeman’s Law

As the dawn light came to overwhelm the reflected moonlight used to perpetuate the unique overnight battle the warriors were still hard at their combat of spears alternatively rammed into each other’s semi organized lines stepping over a floor of dead bodies to get to their enemy. During the night it had been more of a ‘free-for-all mêlée but with added light the remaining English knights and nobles insisted on a more organized battle.

What the English may have wanted the Scots to think was a continued commitment to the battle, even though Henry and Ralph Percy had been captured, it was more likely to have been a ruse for a structured retreat from the rear ranks to save as many soldiers and material as would be possible.

The Scottish scouts, however, could easily see from the top of the hills overlooking the Village of
 
Elsdon that the great army of Sir Henry Percy was bleeding men from its core force for as far down the road to Newcastle as they could see.

It was William Lindsay who took to the Greenchesters wood to relieve himself. He then heard a whinny of a large horse deeper in the copsewood and as he hunkered he glanced downhill in that direction. He saw the swish of a horse’s tail but what he also saw was the gleam-star of the sun striking polished metal.

He smiled to himself and found a few close leaves. He stood and fastened his breaches then as casually as he walked into the wood he walked out. “There’s a knight with good-made armor in the wood and I’m
figurin
’ to catch him for the ransom,” said William when he came to David Lindsay.

“Ye want help?” asked David.

“Just wanted
ye
to know where I’ve gone in case I don’t come back,” replied William with a sneer to let David know he certainly did not need help for the sake of a single man.

David nodded and William went to the pinfold to fetch his horse.

All of the younger lads had been rescued from being intermixed with the cattle. None of them suffered any more than itchy midge bumps and the occasional misstep of a cow’s hoof on a small foot mashing it into the squishy ground.

Sir Matthew Redman’s men who destroyed the servant’s camp for the sake of inebriating spirits and an overabundance of victuals were set upon by a band of Scots led by Sir Walter Sinclair and they had made such a shambles of the tents and supplies that every Englishman guilty of creating the destruction thereof was slaughtered without mercy.

The fast growing ranks of prisoners that were generally kept in place on the hillside were fed and there was water distributed in buckets to drink from at their pleasure. Only those who refused to swear an oath concerning their state of being a prisoner were bound hands and feet and tied to a stob driven into the ground. Only a very few had to be tied in such a manner.

William saddled his horse from the pinfold and climbed aboard. His squire handed him his heavy spear.

“More needs for
ye
, Milord?” asked the squire looking up to his liege lord.

“When I come back full handed I’ll be
a’givin
’ ye a pretty pence,
laddie
,” promised William and he winked at the lad just before he set spurs to the destrier’s rib-flesh and hied through the open pinfold gate and off to the Greenchesters copsewood to catch him a rich prize, As much as anything, that’s what he hoped.

Sir Matthew Redman was the man who had returned to the killing scene of his renegade warriors to see if there was any salvation possible. It was him who awkwardly hid himself in the wood when William was taking a shit. He should have squatted and Lindsay would have never seen the glint.

But he was awkward and the next he knew Sir William was horse-bound and riding straight for him.

Redman ran fast for his horse that was tied to a tree branch downhill a bit. He jerked the reins from the branch with leaves flying and literally jumped into the saddle. He kicked the horse to run and so it did. Redman guided it uphill to the north not wanting to be slowed by the
Rede
River
to the south.

William smiled. He liked a challenge. He followed at a steady pace.

To the north was the
Otter
Valley
and Redman was hoping he could lose his pursuer in the dapple of trees, open grazing land and long morning shadows.

Redman’s horse was the faster in short bursts and William’s was a large
Chesnut
Belgian good for very short spates at a gallop.

Matthew drew up on the edge of a ridge to rest his mount. He thought he had lost William until he saw him trotting along as if he were out for a leisure trip.

William was coming straight for him so there was no hiding place. Redman waited until William had covered half the distance then he kicked his horse away from the ridge pocket of deep shadow and as he started up the hill he looked back to see William not changing his pace.

Matthew drew a deep breath and knew then if he could not catch up with the retreating English troops he would have to fight William.

William saw a prize and would not be assuaged.

Matthew got to a place in the road where he thought he would go no further. He turned and waited for William to arrive.

He heard the clops of the large hooves for at least a quarter of a mile back, he surmised.

Matthew waited.

When William came close and drew rein Matthew said, “You’d figure if you saw a man take a shit he wouldn’t be the one
a’chasin
’ you down to kill you.”

William laughed. “No need for a
killin
’,” said he, “A prisoner is what I want,”