Games of Otterburn 1388 (61 page)

“I don’t mind
suckin
’ them in for
ye
,” answered Archibald. “Just be ready when we fade back.”

Robert smirked. “Bring them on to me. We’ll kill every whoreson English bastard that comes within reach of our blades.”

“Then yer job is set, my friend,” said Archibald.

“‘Tis, at that,” replied Robert as he wheeled his horse and with twenty of his closest knights
 
l went to the edge of the crest before the land sloped off downhill to the firth, wheeled again and stood the ground.

“Why you reckon
Fife
went to the back?” asked Sir Ralph Neville suspiciously.

“Don’t know,” answered Umfraville. “The ones in front are the ones to worry about though.” He looked up and down his line to see that his men were all arrayed in good order.

Across the field Archibald and his horsemen sat stoically waiting.

It was Umfraville’s move.

The English archers were behind the knights and men-at-arms. They had one arrow nocked in the string and three more in their belt loops with their propped up shields in front of them.

Sir Thomas Umfraville raised his hand to give the order. Every man there standing was suddenly fully alert by the excited shiver that transformed their spines from ordinary bone to steel.

He dropped his hand with a loud war cry of “Percy!!
– Percy!!” for the sake of Hotspur.

The line of warriors across both contingents started their van charge at each other.

The Scottish archers, knowing their counterparts on the English side were up to the same trick as they were, let loose their first sortie of arrows bound for the charging first line of knights. The three other arrows were shot in succession and before the first arrows were felt the last had left the string. They then grabbed up the shields, put them over their heads and squatted in the dirt. One sortie was targeting them and they were glad for their shields. Their part of the battle as bowmen had come and gone within a half moment’s time. Their loss in dead was no more than five with another seven wounded.

The knights poised their swords, axes and maces as they came close to one another.

Then crash!!

Weapons and blood were abundantly flying in every direction as the explosion of steel clashed hard at the first strike. Soon the men turned to one on one combat and glorious war cries turned to a sad cacophony of grunts and screams mixed with the small explosions of swords and other weapons striking in odd measures of cold anger and self preserving fear.

Archibald backed his horse from the line and blew a hard short double-blast on his hunting horn.

The Scottish archers turned and ran putting their shields on their backs.

The men-at-arms and the knights ceased their fight, wheeled their horses and ran away with Archibald leading them.

Umfraville seemed to be dazed in half motion as he saw the backs of famed warriors running from them.

“On
them
while they fail!!” shouted Umfraville to the top of his glory inflated lungs.

Neville was again suspicious and grabbed Umfraville by the arm to halt his radical decision but got nothing more from his excited Lord that a rude
jerk
to be unhanded in his moment of imagined triumph.

The English soldiery followed Thomas Umfraville across the field running down what they presumed were deserters.

They got within fifty yards of the crest line when Archibald turned and faced them again.

It was then that Umfraville was himself suspicious as the edges of the wooded area to the side poured more men-at-arms circling behind them cutting down the stragglers.

The English twisted around in confusion as horsed warriors were being dragged off their mounts with bill hooks, put on the ground and killed with short swords.

Umfraville decided to attack in front of him where Archibald’s fewest
number
were.

Earl Robert’s loud, crisp whistle brought a whole new contingent of Scots who had been waiting down the hill and out of Umfraville’s line of sight.

From across the field at the tree line Ralph Neville watched the whole development happen from his saddle. He had not gone headlong into the fight and was glad for his prudent decision. Only a few archers and knights had stayed by his side as the small isolated group watched the tragedy unfold.

But Umfraville was not defeated as yet. He wheeled his destrier and yelped his war cry once again meaning, follow him, and broke through the lines behind him and ran back to where Lord Neville was still sitting his mount.

“Got trapped, Milord?” asked Neville snidely.

Umfraville sneered back spitting, “I’ll not be
a’savin
’ your petty old arse ever again!”

“Did get the bastards off my castle lot,” gainsaid Neville. “For that I thank you!”

Umfraville growled and stared hard at his fellow lord.

“But,” continued Neville as the Scots were lining up for another run at the English, “I’m leaving and I’m taking my contingent with me!”

Umfraville was visibly shaken. He had been played for a fool twice by the Percys and their kin. He was seriously wondering how he could possibly have a gainful dog in the hunt, whatsoever.

From the firth side of the field they watched as the combined force turned tail and hied for
Carlisle
.

A great cheer went up on the side of the Scots.

The same cheer cringed the ears of Umfraville who already had his thoughts on licking his wounds at his manor house in Harbottle over a game of conflict he had little interest in from the beginning and even less since he lost.

- End -

Epilogue

The use of the word “
games
” in the title of this book is a philosophical viewpoint that in no way demeans the military of any nation or people. The life and death skirmishes, the tournaments, the Olympics, the games of all kinds are necessary to be prepared to save the liberty of any people when the homeland is seriously threatened. A blooded standing army has an indispensable worth to any nation determined to provide freedom for its people despite its dear cost to maintain in lives and personal pain. Such sacrifices are a terrible means to an end result for nations to stand for the rights that allow its whole population to seek that for which they most dearly cherish; life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

The Scots winning the battle of Otterburn was an enormous source of income for them in ransoms alone. It was considered the most worthwhile battle fought by the Scots since the battle of
Bannockburn
some seventy-four years earlier. The large herds of cattle and horses additionally were of great worth and considering the capture of the national hero, “Hotspur” Percy, the English pride was most severely wounded.

To the immediate disposition of the people involved, I offer the following:

John Stewart, Earl of Carrick, lost his position as the Guardian to his brother Robert, the Earl of Fife, when his strongest ally, James Douglas, the second Earl of Douglas and Mar, was killed at Otterburn.

John Stewart did keep from being in front of his brother for another two years at which time their father, King Robert II died and John, who probably did not want to be associated with King
John
Balliol and much to the chagrin of his brother, was crowned Robert III.

As for the
Douglas
family, Earl James was buried at Melrose Abbey where his ancestors were buried. Archibald Douglas, Lord of Galloway, the natural born son of the famed James “the Black” (or the Good)
Douglas
became the Third Earl of Douglas.

George Dunbar, Tenth Earl of Dunbar and Third Earl of March, was credited as being the real glue that held the Scottish forces together at Otterburn after Earl James Douglas went missing in the midst of the battle.

George’s
brother
John Dunbar, Forth Earl of Moray, continued his personal war against the English beyond Otterburn and was killed in that pursuit in 1391.

Henry “Hotspur” and Ralph Percy’s ransoms were eventually paid by King Richard II and the Lords Appellate. They both lived to fight for many another days.

The English falsely blamed Bishop Walter Skirlaw of
Durham
for losing the battle.

Hotspur, holding true to the nature of his sobriquet and because he thought it would be a rout easily accomplished within the last hour of sunlight of the day was the best reason for losing a battle that, with his far superior numbers, he may very well have won during daylight hours. There was, however, much more to the smaller Scottish contingent than he ever thought possible.

Sir Roger Clifford mysteriously died the following year. No one admitted to suspecting his wife, Maude, as a cause for his death but she was observed to have smiled much more after
hewas
underground.

King Richard did make a return to power with Anne at his side as his queen just as she predicted but what she did not predict were her worst fears that did come to pass as well.

A word about the time frame of the actual Otterburn battle adopted for this novel.

Many historians have ascribed the fifth of August as the date of the battle. I agree with Jean
Froissart
, a French historian, who actually interviewed warriors who fought on both sides in the battle of Otterburn within a year after the battle and placed the date on the nineteenth of August.

One considered look at a chart of the moon phases in 1388 convinced me that a warrior setting his sights on a raid into enemy territory in that day and time would most definitely consider the moon phases as an indispensably ally. The moon on the nineteenth allowed for the battle to continue for the long night. The full moon was on
the twentieth of August, 1388
.