by Griff Hosker
The Moors defending against the Prince’s tower were now alerted to our presence and half of them turned to face us while a horn summoned help. “Face them!” I shouted. Our four fauchards now faced six men as they advanced. I chose my moment and ordered them, “Now!” and, as one the four weapons were pushed forward. My fauchard’s head sank deeply into the gut of a warrior wearing no mail. He screamed and grabbed hold of my shaft. I twisted and he screamed but, as he fell to the floor of the outer bailey his dying hands had the grip of death on my weapon and he pulled it from me. As he fell, he took the Moor who had been sparring with Juan out too and so I spun out of the line, drew my sword and allowed Juan to step next to Iago so that the three remaining fauchards still faced the foe and I joined Álvar and Rodrigo.
The fighting platform was not wide enough for five men and so Rodrigo said, “You two behind me”.
I naturally stepped to Rodrigo’s right while Álvar protected his shield side. Rodrigo raised his sword and as he presented his shield, he brought down his sword to split the helmet and head of the Moor who had raced at Juan. The Moorish spear slid along El Campeador’s helmet but the warrior was already dead. Stepping over his body we advanced beyond the fauchards. We would be protected on our right by them but it exposed us to more men.
I saw Don Raoul and four knights battling at the edge of the ramp. They were close enough to almost jump down to the fighting platform but to do so would be suicide as ten Moors faced them with spears and long swords. Even as I watched a Moor swung a club and hurled it at the knights. It hit Don Garcia who tumbled from the ramp to his death in the ditch below. I had to force myself back to the task in hand for my job was simple; when Rodrigo swung or lunged, I watched for the blade or the spear which would be sent towards his unprotected and exposed right side. As he back slashed at a mailed Moor a spear came towards him and I smashed it in two with my sword. My hands in those days were as fast as quicksilver and I turned the blade to strike the spearman in the chest before he had even noticed that his weapon was useless. As Rodrigo slew the mailed Moor who had held him up for a handful of strokes, I saw Don Raoul finally make the fighting platform, but he was alone. The Prince stood on the bridge with three knights close to him. While spears and pikes prodded and poked at the tower three Moors attacked Don Raoul.
I heard Rodrigo shout, “No!” and I knew that for perhaps only the second time since I had known him, he was losing his temper. The reason was simple: he was close to Don Raoul and the former armiger was in danger of being butchered. He leapt forward and it was fortunate that Álvar guarded his left for the sudden move exposed them to an attack from reinforcements who had been further down the wall. I was lucky and the three fauchards still protected my right and I was able to bring my sword to the aid of Rodrigo and Don Raoul. Tizona slashed sideways and I rammed the tip of my father’s sword at the men fighting Don Raoul. Even as one hacked into the knight’s right arm Rodrigo’s sword slashed through the Moor’s back and into the side of the next warrior while my sword went up, under the rib cage and into the heart of the third. That Don Raoul had a serious wound was obvious and it was Rodrigo who took charge.
“Álvar, Will, turn and protect Don Raoul! Don Iago, here and protect our flank! Don Raimundo, Get Don Raoul back into the tower!”
All of the training that we had done over the years paid off. We had to turn, whilst surrounded by enemies and face them to make a six-man wall of metal. That we did so was remarkable and made even more so by the fact that none of us were hurt as we completed the manoeuvre. Don Raoul was the most popular member of Price Sancho’s retinue and that fuelled our rage and our anger. The Moors who stood between us and the former armiger of Prince Sancho stood no chance. The fauchards proved to be deadly in the hands of my three men as they drove deep into bodies and, when they were torn out, left the warriors dead and dying, Álvar, Rodrigo and I slashed, hacked and chopped until there were none between us and the ramp. I saw that Don Raimundo had heeded the command of Rodrigo and Don Raoul had been taken back down the tower to the healers.
With a wall of warriors before him, Prince Sancho stepped on to the fighting platform. He looked up and down the walls as did Rodrigo. What we could all see was that, once again, Sancho the Strong’s warriors had achieved their objective and part of the walls were in our hands. Some of the other towers had their ramps down but warriors still battled to take the platform. Prince Sancho said, “El Campeador, what is your suggestion?”
Rodrigo’s quick mind had already weighed up the different options and he pointed to the tower we had ascended, “Prince Garcia and his men are struggling there. We will leave Don Juan to look for a weakness further along,” he pointed in the opposite direction, “your father, the King, looks to have a toehold on the wall. If we join up with him then we can take our men and go to the aid of Garcia with the gate in our hands.”
It was a good plan for the men who had pulled the towers were now climbing up and we would soon be reinforced.
“Good! I will join you at the fore. Álvar, Rodrigo, flank me. William Redbeard, you and your men can support us. Those strange weapons look to be effective.”
“Diego, go and tell Don Juan that he has to hold his section and probe for weaknesses in the Moors attacking Prince Garcia.”
“Aye, Don Rodrigo!”
When we returned home and told Maria of the battle and our part in it, she was amazed that we could stand on top of a fighting platform in an enemy stronghold and talk. The truth is that it was not as simple as that. While Prince Sancho and his armiger spoke the Prince’s knights who had ascended the tower were enlarging our toehold. Men on both sides were dying. Battles rarely involved fighting for the whole time. Men needed some rest, however brief. Iago, Juan and Pedro had rested their fauchards on the crenulations for they were heavy to use and I knew that their backs would be burning as muscles complained about an action that they were unaccustomed to.
We formed ourselves up and it was here that all of Rodrigo’s and, I suspect, my training came into its own for when Rodrigo shouted, “Break ranks!” the knights fighting the Moors, lunged forward as one, and then stepped back knowing that we would have left spaces in our ranks through which they could pass. It partially explained how we had achieved our objective and yet others had not. Before the Moors knew it, the Prince, his armiger and Minaya had stepped forward and brought fresher swords to batter already weakened arms. When Iago, Pedro and Juan thrust their fauchards through the gaps then we were able to take not one, nor even three paces forward but ten and the nearest of the King’s towers was soon within touching distance. I felt, behind me, the weight of fresh knights who had climbed the tower. It was comforting and I knew that if we tired, unlikely though that was, then we could rotate with those who were behind us.
The Prince had yet to fight and his arm moved as though operated by a machine but it was as nothing compared with Rodrigo who was able to keep his blows as smooth and regular as though at the pel. That was the skill of the man known as El Campeador; he seemed to have been born to fight. However, no matter how fit he was his blade would become blunted and so, after it had taken him two blows to remove the head from a Moor, he slipped Tizona into its scabbard and drew his second sword from over his back. Álvar’s sword, Fortuna, had already been replaced. Thanks to my use of the fauchard my father’s sword still had life left in it.
When we reached Don Sebastian, who led the survivors from King Ferdinand’s tower, Prince Sancho allowed them to bear the brunt of the fighting while he assessed the situation. “William Redbeard, Don Álvar take ten of our knights and clear the gatehouse below us. If the other towers are struggling to take the walls then we can ease their entry.”
Álvar nodded, “Yes, my Prince.” That he was less than happy to leave the side of Rodrigo was obvious but he obeyed. He turned to me, “Take your men down the ladder and hold it while I choose our men!”
I just nodded for words were unnecessary. As I had my sword out, I led the way do
wn the ladder with my men protecting me from behind with their fauchards. It was not easy for I had to walk down the ladder with my back to the rungs. I dared not expose my back to the archers and crossbowmen who were within the city walls. I used my left, shield protected hand to hold the ladder. I nearly came to grief halfway down, when I sensed, rather than saw, the bolt which came from the blue. It thudded into the shield and protruded by the length of my thumb. It had penetrated metal and wood. I was lucky that it had not embedded itself in my left arm.
Moors were racing to the bottom of the ladder and I then had the difficult task of fighting whilst trying to hold on to the ladder. When a spear was rammed at my boot, I chose another option; flight. I threw myself towards the Moors at the bottom. I whipped my shield around and held my sword before me. The Moors were not expecting such a move and I landed on three of them. My sword struck one in the middle and pinned him to the earth while my shield struck the other two and the weight of my body and mail drove the air from their lungs. As my three men descended to join me, I stood and took the lives of the winded warriors before they could recover.
Iago, Pedro and Juan also jumped the last few rungs but landed on their feet. Iago was laughing, “One day, William Redbeard, you will learn to walk down from the fighting platform!”
I had no time to reply as Moors ran from the Citadel to end our lives. Arrows, stones and bolts flew from the top, but our shields, helmets and mail held true and when the Moors reached us, we were not only ready but Álvar was leading the rest of the knights to come to our aid. My three men swung their fauchards before them and that had the effect of slowing the Moors down. One did not slow fast enough and Pedro’s fauchard tore open his middle. The warrior next to him made the mistake of glancing down and I made him pay the price when I hacked down across his neck.
Álvar insinuated himself between Iago and me and shouted, “The rest of you fan out at the sides. We clear these and then take the gate.”
The Prince and Rodrigo had now allied with the rest of King Ferdinand’s men and were ploughing their way across the top of the gatehouse. It was important to isolate it so that when we attacked, we could take it and have a safe entry for King Ferdinand’s men. All the work we had done since Graus now began to pay off for although I grew a little weary, I knew that I could keep going for longer than the men we fought. As the last of the Moors who had sortied from the citadel were despatched Álvar showed that he had learned much from Rodrigo.
“Now we take the gate. Will, have your men watch our backs. We need sharp blades for this.” It was as we backed to the gatehouse that I saw the Moor I had killed on the fighting platform. He lay on the ground where he had fallen and was still holding my fauchard. I sheathed my sword and pulled it from his corpse. It was sharper than the other three and had a better edge than my sword. We advanced to the gate. The gatehouse had an internal gate but Álvar had chosen some knights who had axes and they began to hack at the gates. They were neither as big or as robust as the outside gates that King Ferdinand and his men attacked and, while the four of us watched the outer bailey, the axes began to chip chunks of wood from the inner gates. There would be a small garrison within and they might outnumber us but Álvar led knights, knights who had been trained by Rodrigo. They would win!
“Looks like someone has seen what we are trying to do Will.” Iago pointed his fauchard at the citadel where men were pouring out to try to stop Álvar and the knights who followed him.
Without turning I shouted, “Better hurry, Don Álvar! We have company!” We had enough men to take the gatehouse and stop the attack from the citadel but most were on the fighting platform and would not be able to reach us in time. We had to take the gatehouse and hold it. “Spread out and let us use this weapon to its best effect. We keep them from us.”
“Easier said than done, Will. They have archers on the top of the citadel.” Juan nodded to the building which was three hundred paces from us. At that range, they would be lucky to hit and to penetrate the padded jubbah, mail and gambeson but they could, with a lucky bolt, take out an eye.
“And they risk their own men the closer they get to us. Keep your shields up until they close.”
Sure enough, the crossbows sent bolts towards us but many fell short while others missed. I knew how long it took to reload and I was just glad that they had few of them. Their archers sent hopeful missiles too, but they did not have the power at that range to hurt us and they soon shifted to the men on the wall yet to be taken by Prince Garcia. Don Juan of Burgos and Rodrigo’s knights had enabled them to gain a foothold but as their wall was less than two hundred paces from the citadel and many of the men were not armoured, they had more success.
Then the ragged line of angry Moors tried to hit us. I say tried because the four fauchards made a close approach difficult and their own spears were not long enough to penetrate our jubbahs, mail and gambeson. Pedro’s fauchard tore across the arm of one Moor so deeply that it hung by tendons and muscles. Iago’s eviscerated a second. Behind us, I heard a loud crack and then a cheer as the inner gate crashed in.
“Hold them but a little while, Will, and we will open the main gate.”
Iago shouted, arrogantly, “Take your time Don Álvar!”
I shook my head for it did not do to tempt the fates. Since I had learned of my Norse heritage, I was keenly aware of the power of fate and I would not risk the luck I knew I had enjoyed, hitherto.
In the event, we did not have to hold them too long. Don Juan sent men to aid us as Álvar and his hand-picked men slew the defenders and opened the gates. It took but an hour for the garrison to surrender, for with the gates in our hands and the bridge over the river destroyed we had the town. The most important town captured by the Moors had been recaptured and it was a significant victory. Once again, I had survived a siege and I knew that one day, my luck might run out.
Chapter 3
The Emir was not in Coimbra and so we waited for three weeks while emissaries travelled back and forth between the captured fortress and the capital of the taifa, Badajoz. It was worth the wait as King Ferdinand and his own men managed to claw back the land north of the Mondego river and, equally important, the Emir promised to pay tribute to Castile. Not only was the King richer, but we had also been richly rewarded, for the King shared half of the first payment amongst us.
My men and I were in a unique position. Normally men such as we were paid by a lord like El Campeador’s father, Don Diego, who did not wish to go to war and the arrangements were made privately. We, on the other hand, had been hired by Prince Sancho. When I found and trained men then they would be paid as well. The four of us did better than many knights. Rodrigo and Álvar were not surprised for, once again, our involvement had been crucial. I knew that our success would encourage more men to come and be trained by me. My father had been a mercenary, but it was I who made more profit from war.
It was as we waited for the first payment that news reached us which was not so welcome. Pope Alexander had first preached of a Christian emergency the year before as he felt the Moors in Spain had too much power. King Ferdinand had shown that this was not true. It was also preached in Burgundy, probably with the permission or participation of Hugh of Cluny, where the abbot's brother, Thomas de Chalon, led the army. There was a great deal of enthusiasm for this crusade and it spread elsewhere in France where many knights saw an opportunity for war and booty. The huge army which was present at the siege of Barbastro when it began in 1064 was made up mainly of Frenchmen and Burgundians, along with a papal contingent, made up mostly of Italo-Normans, as well as a local Spanish army made up of Catalans and Aragonese.
The leader of the papal contingent was a Norman by the name of William of Montreuil while the leader of the Spaniards was Sancho Ramírez, King of Aragón and Navarre. The largest component was led by Duke William of Aquitaine who led the army through the Pyrenees at Somport. They besieged Barbastro for forty days. The Emir of Zaragoza had been in an impossible situation. He
knew that King Ferdinand would not risk excommunication by sending men to fight soldiers who were acting on the Pope’s orders. To all intents and purposes this was a crusade. The Emir was used to fighting Spaniards who observed certain rules. The men who attacked his land obeyed no rules and thought that all Muslims were enemies regardless of age or sex. We learned all this after the event. Rodrigo was present when the emissary from Zaragoza explained all to the King and his sons.
As Rodrigo told us, “The garrison of the city surrendered and that should have been the end of it but the French and Norman knights broke their word and when the Muslims surrendered, they were butchered along with every Muslim woman and child!”
Don Juan of Burgos said, “But they were knights! They broke their word?” He was incredulous as Rodrigo trained knights who held the ideals of knighthood as paramount.
Rodrigo nodded and I saw real concern on his face, “They said that giving their word to a Muslim did not count. In God’s eyes, they had done no wrong.”
I could see that he did not agree with that in any shape or form. “But King Sancho of Aragón and Navarre, why did he go along with it? He was brought up at the King’s court. Surely he did not participate.”