[Norman Conquest 01] Wolves in Armour (5 page)

“What tipped the balance was that Lanfranc offered that Duke William promised to hold England as the pope’s vassal, expanding the power of the Holy See. I’m sure that’s one promise that will be quietly forgotten! Still, it means that the duke has received a papal ring, the flag of St Peter and a written edict blessing him as king of England- and promising excommunication to all who oppose him. These are quite considerable weapons in the duke’s armoury!”

Nothing happened for several days, to the frustration of the Norman army. Then an English monk rode out of the trees and was taken to William’s camp. A few hours later scouts rode in and word passed around the camp that a large English army had been seen amongst the trees of the Andreswald some ten miles to the north. Matters appeared finally to be moving to some sort of a conclusion. The English monk, accompanied by a French monk and with several knights as an escort, rode out early the following day- Friday 13th October.

Although without formal instructions and little to go on other than gossip, the Normans spent the day in camp in final preparations for battle, many attending the several large outdoor Masses that were being celebrated, hoping to increase their chances of Redemption if matters went against them in the coming battle.

That night Alan sat with Robert and Hugh near a camp-fire. “There’s plenty of firewood, and the horses can crop the grass. It’s a pity that we don't have much to eat- we can’t eat grass! Thanks for providing the hare, Hugh,” commented Robert, as he carefully broke a small stale loaf of bread into three and handed a piece to Alan and to Hugh.

Hugh used his knife to turn the carcass of a small hare that was roasting on the fire. “There’s going to be barely a mouthful of meat each, and the damn thing cost me a denier! Praise be to God that one way or the other something will happen soon, otherwise next week we'll have to start eating the horses! Turning an expensive destrier into stew is not a good use of resources!”

“What do you think is going to happen?” asked Alan.

Hugh shrugged. “If Harold has moved south we have to go to meet him. The land nearby here isn’t suitable for the sort of battle we Normans prefer- we need space to manoeuvre. Hopefully we’ll find a suitable battlefield somewhere, although from what I hear the land is thick woods most of the way to London. In the end we’ll fight where we must- and we must fight soon! If Harold is clever he’ll simply sit between wherever we are and London and refuse battle. We're getting weaker, while his army will be getting stronger. Still, that’s for the nobles to resolve- we just carry our lance wherever we're told!”

The following morning there was a waning moon in the sky as dawn broke and instructions were given that the army would march at sunrise, which that day was at seven in the morning. Other than the nobles, the army marched dressed for battle in full armour and with lances held aloft.

From Hastings to Caldbec Hill was a distance of seven miles along a winding and rutted track. William’s army stretched for three miles along the track, with the Normans at the rear. Hugh de Berniers’s squadron was located about four-fifths of the way along the column. Their view ahead was obscured by Telham Hill and the dust raised by thousands of feet. The column suddenly halted and word flashed back that the English army was on the next hill, Caldbec Hill- just 800 yards from the Norman vanguard. The Norman army was deploying for battle.

The time was a little after eight in the morning.

The Norman forces inched forward, first to the top of Telham Hill, where Alan could make out something of the next major rise in the ground, in front of which the Norman army appeared to be deploying. However, the dust and the intervening small rise of Starr’s Green made it difficult to make out details. When they eventually reached the rise of Starr’s Green the battlefield was suddenly revealed and the reason for the slow deployment became obvious.

“Sweet Jesus!” muttered Hugh de Berniers “I’ve never seen such a battlefield. There’ll be many dead before the end of this day! This isn’t a battlefield, it’s a killing field!”

The terrain was shaped like the letter ‘T’ with the top formed by a nearly level hill on which the English were deployed in a shield-wall. The hill was perhaps 800 yards wide with both flanks protected by steep ground falling away from the ends of the line, and also with a thick forest on the west flank. The English had formed a shield-wall below the brow of the hill just above the ground that had been cultivated. They were there in their thousands. There were perhaps 800 or 1,000 men in the shield-wall, but with the ranks eight or ten deep behind them there were probably 8,000 armed men in all, slightly more than William’s army.

The leg of the ‘T’ was a low ridge along which the road ran towards the position occupied by the English. What had caused Hugh de Berniers’s comment, and the delay in deployment, was the fact that the ridge on which the road was located acted as a water-shed. Streams ran south-west and north-east away from the road and parallel to the hill occupied by the English. The low-lying land at the foot of the hill was soft and marshy, particularly to the west, with the streams only some 150 to 200 paces from the English line.

Usually an army would deploy from column to line at least 500 paces from the enemy. Had William done so, the bulk of his army would then have to cross the marshes as they assaulted the hill. Instead he had taken the risk of passing beyond the streams and then had the Bretons deploy to the left and the French and Flemish deploy to the right, with the Normans occupying the higher ground in the centre of the Norman line. This was done little more than 150 paces from the English line.

The slope uphill from the position where the Norman army had deployed to that where the English shield-wall stood varied across the battlefield, from a moderate slope of one in thirty on the western end and centre, becoming much more steep on the eastern flank up which the French and Flemings must attack- there perhaps as much as one in six. The lower slopes, even above the marshy ground near the streams, would be difficult to traverse even on foot. For cavalry to use that ground risked the horses becoming mired in mud and potentially suffering injury to their legs. To make matters worse the first part of the land across which the invaders would be attacking had recently been ploughed. Rain had made the ground wet- even on the more level land the slope of the hill in the ploughed field would make the approach a hard slog for the infantry and a proper coordinated charge by the cavalry very difficult.

Remarkably, the English allowed the Norman deployment to take place without interference. Had an attack been made when William’s army was only half-deployed, with part on one side of the marshland deployed in line and the other part still in column on the road, the result could hardly have been anything but a crushing defeat for the Normans. But the English simply stood and watched, apparently satisfied to wait on the Norman army to assault the strong position held by them.

Alan wiped a cloth across his face, leaving the material wet and dirty from sweat and dust. Neither he nor Robert had fought in earnest before, and even the more experienced Hugh had never fought in a large battle. “Why are they just standing there?” Alan asked.

Hugh replied, “Harold has fought with Duke William in Normandy. He knows the way we fight. Here he has superb professional infantry- but with a large militia force of the fyrd, no cavalry and few archers. Perhaps he’s not confident his men, particularly the fyrd, can defeat knights on the open field. Perhaps he simply sees no need to take a risk and believes a defensive battle to be the better option. Attacking across that ground and up that hill is going to be a real bastard! If he forces us back and then sends his men down the hill they’ll squash us like cockroaches in the marsh near the streams. I think that St Peter will be a very busy man this day! May Jesus, Mary and Joseph protect us all!”

“Duke William has never lost a battle!” objected Robert.

“True. Neither has Harold!” replied Hugh. “Robert, turn around and I’ll check the buckles on your harness. Then you do the same for Alan. The battle will start shortly.”

The Red Dragon banner of Wessex, the nearest thing that the English had to a royal banner fluttered from the highest point of the English line, very near the centre. Alongside flew Harold’s personal banner of ‘The Fighting Man’, the silhouette in green of a helmeted man wielding sword and shield on a white flag.

Geoffrey de Mandeville’s cavalry were amongst the last to move into position. They were just on the west side of the middle of the leg of the ‘T’, level with the head of the stream that ran to the west. They covered the right flank of the men from Brittany, Anjou, Poitou and Maine, commanded by Alan Fergant of Brittany; their left flank required no cavalry support, being firmly anchored in dense trees and bushes.

Positioned on the left of the Norman section of the line, just to the left of the centre of Duke William’s army, Hugh de Berniers’ squadron was in the middle of the third line of de Mandeville’s cavalry, which was drawn up four ranks deep. Geoffrey de Mandeville’s men kept a close eye on the forces to the left, as the Bretons were not held in high regard by the Normans either for fighting ability or trustworthiness.

Alan saw three things that were notable about the battlefield, apart from the proximity of the opponents. One was its small size, less than 1,000 paces wide and between 200 and 300 paces deep. The second was the total lack of opportunity for manoeuvre, with both English flanks protected by terrain or trees. Like the English, the Normans were drawn up in ranks. Had they charged knee to knee there would have been room for perhaps 500 of the over 2,000 armoured horsemen to engage the enemy. The final item of note was the silence, except for the occasional shout of abuse or challenge from the English which the Normans ignored largely because they couldn’t understand the Saxon tongue.

The silence changed when, next to William’s personal standard of a gold leopard on a red background, was unfurled the large banner of St Peter with its two crossed gold keys on a white background, blessed by Pope Alexander and brought from Rome. At that moment came a roar from the throats of 6,000 Normans, Bretons, French and Flemings.

Those of the English who had not heard the rumour over the previous days were now aware that William fought with the approval and blessing of the pope. William’s men now felt less like wolves ripping at the living body of England and more like crusaders.

The English responded with the load drumming of sword and spear on shields and their ancestral battle chant of, “Out! Out! Out!”

After the papal banner was carried back to a position of safety the Norman assault began. As usual with armies from the continent, the Norman army was comprised of archers, armoured foot-soldiers carrying sword or spear and armoured cavalry. As usual with armies of Norse descent, the English fought solely on foot as infantry with sword, axe and spear.

Alan noticed one more thing. William had kept back no reserve of troops to either exploit a breakthrough or provide protection in case of a retreat. Clearly William saw this as a ‘win at all costs’ battle that would decide the fate of the invasion once and for all.

“Crunch time! May God the Father, Son and Holy Ghost protect us all! Let us place our trust in the Lord!” said Hugh piously.

“Now we earn our half-crown a day!” replied Alan with a nod, crossing himself and bending his head as he made a personal supplication to God for his safety in the coming battle.

“My pay is in arrears! Can I be excused now?” quipped Robert, to ease the tension they were all feeling. The others laughed at the jest and clapped him on the shoulders before standing next to the shoulders of their horses, ready to mount on order. They stood unmounted to avoid unnecessarily tiring their mounts, in what was likely to be a long day for both man and beast.

The Norman archers, mainly bowmen but with a sprinkling of crossbowmen, cautiously approached the English shield-wall and began to fire at close range. Some were over-confident and approached too close. They received a hail of spears, thrown hand-axes and rocks tied to wooden handles, causing some casualties before the Normans bowmen quickly retreated out of range of such thrown missiles, at a distance of 90 to 100 paces.

At close range it was nearly impossible to miss if the archer had a clear target- but few Englishmen were hit by the arrows as the flat trajectory of the shots and the fact that the bowmen were shooting uphill from positions lower than the Englishmen, meant that nearly every arrow fired hit a shield. The crossbowmen proved slightly more effective as some of the bolts were able to penetrate the shields and cause injury to those sheltering behind. The barrage proved to be much shorter in duration than was usual. Each archer carried three sheaves, each of twenty-four arrows; they ran out of missiles after ten to twelve minutes. Their usual method of obtaining reloads was to collect the arrows their enemies had fired in return, but they were denied this by the total lack of return bow-fire.

Behind the archers moved the Norman heavy infantry. Most were wearing chain-mail but a few wore jerkins of boiled leather and padded gambesons. All wore helmets and were armed with sword and spear. The Normans were carrying long kite-shaped shields, those of the infantry somewhat longer than those carried by the cavalry. The Anglo-Saxons carried a mix of similar kite-shields, and also round or even oblong shields- all locked tightly together in the shield-wall.

The Norman infantry plodded up the hill, gasping under the weight of their arms and armour as they struggled firstly across first the low-lying marshy ground, then uphill over the ploughed field and finally up the steep slope as they neared the top of the hill.