Games of Otterburn 1388 (59 page)

“Looked to be about the size of yer feet,” said Mungan smiling.

She took the boots reverently and pressed them to her breasts. She could not hold back any longer as reality of what had happened on that very ground sank in. She burst into tears and involuntarily crumpled to her knees.

She wept bitterly.

Mungan was puzzled. He thought she was going to be pleased. He was silent as he stood over her and anxiously rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet hoping that whatever he had done was going to have temporary consequences.

August 21 - About
Noon

Carlisle

“Here’s yer Earl Douglas!” said one of the two outriding pickets who had saved John’s life.

“I thank
ye
, my friends,” said John as he slid from the rump of the picket’s horse and once on the ground, doffed his hat bowing low in appreciation for their timely saving of his life.

Archibald looked up to see the man and realized he had seen him before around
Southdean
Church
. “Ye went with
Douglas
?” questioned the earl as he got back to stirring in the fire to make it hotter.

“Aye, Milord,” said John coming from his saddle, “Scout for that side, I am, Milord.”

“What ye
a’doin
’
here’bouts
?” asked Archibald.

Robert Stewart walked up to see what was going on.

“Earl George Dunbar said to give
ye
a message,” replied John.

“Message?
What message?!” said Robert in a quick spit of words.

John’s head turned as quick as Robert’s words.

Archibald looked up at Robert wondering what he had going on in his head. “Let him speak,” he growled then turned to John and asked, “Fire cooked pork?”

“Hain’t
et
much but a turnip for three days… thank ye to have some, Milord,” answered John politely.

“Yer message, lad!” grumped Robert.

“Aye,” said John then paused to get his speech worked around in his head.

From under his brows, Robert gave the young man a restless stare.

Archibald skewered a portion of pork and set across the fire held by end stanchions.
 
The fire crackled as it licked the fat of the fresh meat.

“We’ve been in a terrible fight close to Otterburn, Milords,” started John.

Robert’s anxiety fell. “Ye come this far to say that?”

“Nay,” said John as he got his first whiff of the cooking meat. “I come to tell
ye
that Lord Thomas of…” he paused to think of the name, “Umfraville’s on his way here to make
ye’uns
skedaddle… Milords,” he blurted.

“When?” asked Robert back to being anxious.

“Any time, reckons me,” spoke John then added, “How
long’s
it take for pork to cook, Milord.”

Archibald smiled. “
Yon’s
a piece ready cooked on the ground if ye want to get started, lad.”

“How many?” again questioned
Robert.

John paused midway to the meat. He stood erect and looked at Robert. He tugged at his earlobe and twisted his fingers over it to scratch the imagined itch.

“How many?” repeated
Robert.

“A lot…?” replied John not knowing his counting.

“More
than’s
here?” asked Robert becoming agitated.

John looked around the field. He had never seen Umfraville’s army, just campfires. He figured several to a campfire and so said according to what he imagined rather than what he knew for fact, “More, Milord.”

“We can throw a barricade up on the edge of the copse,” said Robert.

“
Figurin
’ to fight, are ye?” asked Archibald standing from his fire.

“
Figurin
’ to, why?” replied Robert curtly.

“I figure we need to leave with what we got,” said Archibald, “and that’s just what I’m
a’goin
’ to do.”

“Well, hell, I hain’t
a’gonna
be able to go it alone,” groused Robert disappointedly.

“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.”