El Campeador

by Griff Hosker

  “Aye, lord. The plan will work for we have seen it before. When men flee then the enemy follow. It is the same plan which we used when we were raiding Badajoz.”

  “I know and then we buried cubs.” I gave him a savage reminder of the price of failure.

  We rose early for we had to be in place before the knights. Rodrigo was hiding the knights. We formed up on the high ground which lay half a mile from the gully. The foot soldiers appeared before us and they planted pavise and spears. By the time the sun began to rise in the east my line of one hundred and ten expendables were spread out in a rough and loose looking line; we looked like a warband. The foot behind us would only be glimpsed. The knights were walking their horses and, as we began our reckless charge, they would walk through the pavise and mount, ready to counter charge. By then Rodrigo hoped that all attention would be upon him.

  As we readied ourselves before the men on foot, I looked down the line to see if our orders were being obeyed. It looked like they were and we had gaps between our riders as well as some who were ahead of others. We did not look like disciplined Christian knights; we looked like a warband of wild bandits. I transferred my gaze to the enemy. They had their askari in two blocks: one was closer to the sea and guarded the eastern flank while the other block was to the west. Before them, they had a thin screen of more than two hundred horse archers. I wondered how Rodrigo had known they would form up in that way. It made my task easier. We would charge the men on the western end of the line which would draw the Berber archers across towards us and some would arrive faster than others; that, in turn, meant that they would be more likely to follow us when we fled. I had chosen a spear, as had my three men. Most of the others had chosen lances but I wanted something that I could throw if I had to. Although the start of this battle was down to me, I had to ensure that I drew the enemy close enough to me so that the knights could quickly close with them as well as threatening the foot soldiers. As soon as we began our charge then all attention would be upon us and no one would worry what was happening behind us.

  I saw Álvar raise his sword and knew that all were in place. Raising my spear, I shouted, “For God and King Ferdinand! Let us drive these heathens from our land!”

  The roar which greeted my words impressed even me and I had been expecting it. I dug my heels into Killer and he leapt forward. I was not worried that any would overtake me for Killer simply would not allow it. I pointed towards the Moors left flank and glanced down the ragged line. Every warrior was playing his part and screaming as though he was a barbarian. Would they have enough control to obey my orders? Only time would tell but if they did not then they would be dead. Rodrigo’s plan only worked if every man obeyed his orders. The Berber horse archers reacted the quickest, as I had expected they would. Without using their hands, they urged their horses to ride to the aid of the two hundred askari warriors on the Valencian left flank. We were now a formation which resembled a hunting arrow. I was the tip and the two sides echeloned behind me. My three best warriors flanked me and I hoped that my seven young warriors along with Abu and Geoffrey were tucked behind the second rank.

  I heard the horn. That meant that El Campeador was on his way and, of course, we ignored the horn for it was a ruse. I slowed Killer a little for as much as I wanted the plan to work, I wanted as few losses as possible. Arrows came at us but I had chosen the enemy left to attack so that our shields were on our left and we had more protection. Arrows began to land, but as the Berber archers were riding at speed and they were not sending volleys it would have taken a really lucky strike to hurt us. Even so, one arrow hit my shield and another struck Killer’s tijfaf but neither did harm. It was almost time to begin to turn but I needed to hear Rodrigo’s voice to pull off the deception.

  And then it all began to go wrong. Of course, it was obvious that it could and that I would be unable to do anything about it. I had slowed Killer for I could hear those around me had slowed too. I raised my sword to halt the line and begin to turn us around but three of the young warriors from Bilbao were too excited or, perhaps, too reckless. Instead of slowing, they began to speed up and before I could order the line to turn around, I saw the three young warriors plough into the leading archers. I say three warriors, but it was their horses which did so for one was thrown from his saddle by two arrows and a second was hit. He and the last of the reckless warriors were cut down by the spears of the askaris. Even then it was not a disaster but when some of the warriors who had come from Bilbao tried to take their own vengeance on the killers of their friends then I knew I had to take command. Standing in my stirrups I shouted, “Fall back!”

  Even as I shouted, a shower of arrows came in my direction. Three hit my shield and four struck Killer’s tijfaf but none drew blood and I knew that I had been lucky. I turned a wilful Killer to begin the ride back to our lines, aware that Rodrigo was now almost next to me. As I turned, I saw that almost all of my men had obeyed me. I shouted to Iago, “Get them all back now and I shall watch with Don Rodrigo.”

  “Aye, lord!” Soon he would be a father again and Iago obeyed me. I could not abandon the foolish young men I had left and I wheeled Killer to try to save some of them. I lowered my spear and, instead of turning to ride to safety, rode at the askari who were skewering the reckless young warriors from Bilbao who had disobeyed me. Arrows thudded into my shield and Killer’s tijfaf but they lessened as I neared the askari who were so intent on butchering the young men that the first they knew of my arrival was when my spear was rammed into one’s back. I reared Killer whose hooves clattered onto a second and my spear found the face of a Moor who had turned to see whence came the danger.

  In the hiatus of the moment, I shouted to the three survivors, “Ride!”

  Even as they turned, I wondered if I had left it too late when suddenly Rodrigo and Babieca charged into the Moors and Tizona sent two from their saddles. I threw my spear into the chest of a plumed leader as Rodrigo slew another and then he shouted, “Now, we can go!”

  Our sudden frenzied assault had ignited the anger in the Valencian warriors and I heard their frenetic drumbeats as they ordered their charge. Babieca and Killer knew each other well and they took off like greyhounds. Soon we would catch the three Bilbaoans who were urging their weary horses back to safety. Two of the young warriors were wounded and I wondered if they would survive. I had more to worry about than them for the eager Moors were just ten paces behind Rodrigo and myself.

  Rodrigo seemed joyous and his eyes sparkled as he unloosed his ventail and shouted, “Well the plan appears to be working! It seems that they are keen to get the two of us!”

  I glanced under my arm and saw that not only were the askari and the archers chasing us but the men on foot had joined and were racing from the protection of the gully to get at us. I truly believe that had we ridden any other horses then we would have been caught but Peyre Pringos’ equine presents were the finest of horses. Ahead I saw that most of our men were through the knights which were reforming. There was a gap between Álvar and the Prince. I headed for it with Rodrigo close behind.

  I saw the Prince raise his lance and shout a command. The horn sounded and the two huge, long lines of knights began to move forward. I was already reining Killer in as I neared them and as we passed through, I wheeled him around. Rodrigo did the same with Babieca and when he followed the knights in the second line then I knew that I had to follow him. Iago was already reforming the men I had led and so I followed El Campeador and protected his left side as we joined the charge towards the Valencian army which, but a heartbeat ago, had thought they had us on the run. They would learn that day of the skill of Rodrigo de Vivar!

  Rodrigo turned to grin at me. “It is good to know that you are close, Will, for it helps me to fight knowing that I have another arm!”

  The Prince and Álvar had kept the line of knights largely intact and so when they struck the ragged mass of men which was the Valencian army the crack sounded like summer thunder. I saw lances splin
tered and heard the cries of men and horses as they were hit. Few of the Valencians had either lances or spears and it was they who were thrown from their horses and their bodies trampled as two lines of knights rode across them. As the Prince carved his way through the Valencians so the enemy began to split asunder. When they had chased my men, they thought they had taken the man they called El Cid and that would have been a worthy prize. Now even the humblest warrior knew that they had been trapped and they ran. It was their own defences which were their undoing. The gully they had planned on using to hold us at bay now became a death trap as horses tumbled and fell to its rocky bottom. It is one thing to pick your way down one side and up the other in perfect order when there is no enemy close by and quite another to hurtle down it with mailed men chasing you.

  The Prince wisely reined in and sent knights on foot to despatch the dying in the gully. Álvar led half of the knights along the top of the gully to sweep up the pockets of resistance that we saw. Rodrigo and I reined in our now weary horses next to the Prince and Don Juan of Burgos. They had lowered their ventails.

  “Well, El Campeador, your plan worked exactly as you said it would and you did well, William Redbeard, although I confess that I feared that it was too much to ask of men who are not knights.”

  Before I could retort Rodrigo spoke, “We have many such men in Castile, Prince Sancho, and we ignore them at our peril. Noble born knights fight well but so do ordinary Castilians for this is their land too.”

  He was not totally convinced, I could see that from his eyes, but he nodded, “And tomorrow we head down the coast into Valencia. Do you think we have defeated them well enough for them to speak with us?”

  Rodrigo was the thinker and the planner. That he was younger than Prince Sancho did not matter. All of us knew who the strategist was. He shook his head, “No, Prince Sancho,” he pointed to the other side of the gully where the survivors were reforming, not to attack, but to affect a more orderly escape. “If their leader can rally his men like that then they are not broken. They are hurt and we have some time before they will be able to meet us in battle but we have not done as we did with Zaragoza and Toledo and defeated them in one mighty battle.”

  “Then we will cross this barracho and camp on the other side where we can speak with my father about the next phase.”

  Rodrigo asked, “Surely that is obvious, Prince Sancho, we march to Valencia!”

  “My father is a little unwell for he is no longer a young man. The rain and the swampy ground through which we passed did his health no good at all. We will see how he fares over the next week!”

  I left the Prince and Rodrigo as they crossed the barracho for I saw Iago leading my men towards me. I was pleased to see that all seven of the young warriors had survived. Iago shook his head as he reined in. “How can your oathsworn protect you if you ride off alone like that?”

  I smiled as I took off my helmet, “I was not alone for I was with El Campeador!”

  “Who draws enemies to him like flies!”

  “Abu and Geoffrey, take two of the young warriors and fetch our horses and baggage for the Prince will camp on the other side of this battlefield. We can have the first choice.”

  “Aye lord, Sebastian, Christos, come with us.”

  As they rode off, I said, “The rest of you, this is your battlefield. Take from the men we fought and keep your eyes open for my spear!”

  We had taken the choicest treasures before the bulk of the army, which had stood and watched, reached us. With my precious spear back in my hand I led my company across the gully, choosing a crossing place close to the sea. There it was lower and there were no bodies to negotiate. I planned on a campsite as close to the sea as we could for the sea breeze would keep the flies from us. This desolate part of the coast was devoid of people but populated, instead, by flies and flying insects which plagued both man and horse. Many were blood-sucking creatures and warriors had died, not from a sword but an insidious bite from a tiny creature. It did not seem right to me.

  We only camped for one night and then moved south. The places we took were mean places with little to commend them and certainly no tribute. These lands were rarely fought over for there was little to be gained. I could understand why Rodrigo was so keen to get to Valencia. Men were suffering on the ride along the coast but the enemy was not the Moors, it was the land and the insects. Water was hard to find and there was little grazing to be had. The final straw came when King Ferdinand became so ill that priests were summoned to his bedside. Rumours ran around the camp that he was dying.

  I saw little of Rodrigo during those days but I was sent for after three days of waiting by the Prince. I did not see the King for he was within his tent with the healers. The Prince came directly to the point, “The King is unwell, William Redbeard, and we are going to head back to Castile. We will take the most direct route and that means crossing Zaragoza. We will be taking the King back in a wagon.”

  In my head I estimated that to be more than three hundred and fifty miles. It was now July and the heat would only grow. It would take some time to reach our home and who knew if the King would survive. Suddenly this campaign seemed to threaten the whole of King Ferdinand’s kingdom.

  “El Campeador believes that you and your men would be the best to scout ahead of the army as we cross Zaragoza.”

  I glanced at Rodrigo who smiled, “Álvar and I will be with you along with ten handpicked knights but I would be happier if you were with us.”

  I nodded, “I would be honoured and when do we begin?”

  Rodrigo said, “We will break camp today and head north and west. We need to choose campsites and towns with water and security, not to mention grazing.”

  The first week was the hardest for we had to pick our way through the mountains. When he became the Lord of Valencia this would be Rodrigo’s fiefdom but that first week saw him learning about the land. To me, I saw every narrow road and rocky outcrop as a hazard and obstacle, but Rodrigo was looking at them with a military eye and he saw them as an asset. That whole journey towards the taifa of Zaragoza was a revelation for him and I saw him, each night, writing down what he had learned. He kept a written record of what we had seen. He was the only man I ever knew who did this and it made him the legend he became for his enemies thought he must have had supernatural powers to know so much. I was the one who saw him learning as we picked our way home.

  Our only contact with the King came through others. Our days began before the rest of the army as we broke camp while it was still dark and cool. It was only when we stopped and the outriders from the main column caught up with us that we learned that the King was not becoming any worse but neither was he improving. Rodrigo was not fearful of an ambush. The Valencians would have retreated closer to their citadel of Valencia and they would not be able to catch us. The local lords would not be a threat as we were still a mighty host which had yet to lose many men.

  As we neared Zaragoza I was sent, along with Abu, to speak to the Emir. It meant a diversion but it was important that the Emir knew Rodrigo’s thoughts. The two of us slipped into the city almost unnoticed. I now rode like a Moor with a white cloak and hood. The sun had burned and burnished my skin and as there were Arabs who had a red beard, I could pass for one. The fact that I rode a Moorish horse helped with the illusion. When we neared the palace then there was more scrutiny and Muhammed ibn Hassan was summoned. This time we were taken through back passages to meet with the Emir in private. That he approved of our discreet approach was obvious from his welcome. What disturbed me was his depth of knowledge.

  “It is good to see you, Redbeard, and how fares the King? I would have sent one of my healers but I feared that those in my city who oppose me might catch wind of it.”

  “The King has not deteriorated, Emir, and I am sent by El Campeador to ensure that we can have safe passage through your land.”

  He smiled and turned to his lieutenant, “I think that our army might look north to Catalonia, eh,
Muhammed? I have heard the Count Berenguer seeks to ally with Valencia and to take our land.” By doing so we could pass through his land without a challenge from some general who thought we had no right to be there.

  Muhammed smiled, “A good idea, Emir, and it will keep our men occupied.”

  The Emir turned back, “If my army is north of the city then any movement south cannot be stopped.”

  “Thank you, Emir.”

  “You are a loyal warrior. El Cid is lucky to have someone he can trust so completely. Keep safe, William Redbeard.”

  Rodrigo was pleased with the news but, like me, concerned about the fact that the King’s illness was so widely known. He shook his head, “It is this snail’s pace we employ. There are spies who follow the baggage. It would be impossible to find them all and they can send messages both ahead and behind which are faster than we travel. I am pleased that the Emir has made it easy for us but I confess that I will be happier when we see León’s towers once more.”

  We reached León at the start of September and the army disbanded. Healers were sent for and we all hoped that the King would recover. The campaign had not been a failure nor had it been a success. Our prayers for his recovery, however, fell on deaf ears and anarchy was about to descend upon Castile and Christian Spain!

  Chapter 6

  We returned to Briviesca, but I could not settle for the King was obviously dying. I had the evidence of my own eyes as well as the words of those who were close to him. He had taken part in one campaign too many or perhaps the insects and biting things had done for him. I began to improve the defences of my home for if the King died then it would invite attacks from the Navarrese and Aragonese warriors! We were the borderlands and I did not want my people to suffer! My men set to work willingly for my seven warriors in training had been on a battlefield and survived. They now saw that what we did at Briviesca would make them better warriors and if that meant digging ditches and hauling stones from the mountains to make strong walls then that was necessary work. They saw that it made them better warriors and stronger warriors for they had to learn to work together. If one did not help to lift the huge stone then the others would fail. The lesson of working as one was soon learned and made them better warriors as well as workers.