El Campeador

by Griff Hosker

  Rodrigo was at the high table with Álvar and he had to wait until the King retired before he could join us. All attention turned to him, “Well, where do we fight and why do we fight in the middle of winter?”

  Rodrigo smiled, “The timing is all, we have to catch Alfonso unawares and besides, the ground will be hard making it easier for our horses. We head tomorrow for the River Pisuerga.”

  Don Iago shook his head, “And that tells us nothing! That is merely the border. Do not tell me this will be like the war against Garcia. Tell me that we will not have a pleasant ride say a few words and then the enemy surrenders for that is not war!”

  “That depends upon King Alfonso. We are merely travelling to the lands ceded to King Sancho by his brother, King Alfonso.”

  Don Ramon sighed, “I prefer the days of fighting the Navarrese or the men of the taifa!”

  In the silence that followed I merely said, “So long as we follow El Campeador then we know that we are doing the right thing.” I stared at Rodrigo. “That has helped me when I lost warriors I did not wish to lose, and I hope that I will continue to trust the judgement of El Campeador.”

  I had loosed a barb and Rodrigo felt it. I saw the hurt in his eyes. As he walked me back to my camp he said, quietly, “Is that what you think, Will, that I have put myself before the lives of your men?”

  “Of course not, but your misplaced sense of loyalty means that you will put kings before us. When we followed King Ferdinand and Prince Sancho then I was happy but the battle in Valencia showed me a different side to the man who is now King. We will all follow you but, if you are wrong, then it is you will have to sleep with the ghosts of the dead!”

  I knew I had shaken him, but I did not utter those words to hurt him, merely to warn him. He did not heed them, even though he tried.

  The road west was long and hard as well as cold. Our breath appeared before us as we tramped along wintery roads. I had never campaigned in the winter and I wondered at the wisdom of this invasion. There was little grazing and we had to gather firewood each night to build up the fires which would keep us warm. We were no longer riding just behind the King. He had his own knights and Rodrigo there to protect him. We were relegated to a place behind the last knights and before the men on foot. If he thought to insult me then the King had failed. I cared not for I preferred the company of my men to kings and princes. My mind was not idle as we rode and my journeys with Rodrigo meant I had a map in my head of the land. I knew that we were heading for the city of Santa Maria de Carrion. It was historically important and, more importantly, there was a river King Sancho could use. He was the better tactician of the two brothers especially as he had El Campeador to advise him. Alfonso should have used his prior knowledge of Sancho, but he did not. I knew that Rodrigo would have advised him well.

  Jorge now fulfilled the function of Iago and so I used Sebastian to carry the horn. I still did not use a banner but as my men were all distinctive with their red shields, identical helmets and blue cloaks, other Christians would know who we were. All of Spain would recognise me and my horse, Killer. Soon Killer would no longer be able to carry me to war but Geoffrey had bred from him and Hercules would be a fine warhorse when that day came. Half of my men rode war horses too. We had received many comments from other knights, not the ones I had trained, but the more ancient families. There was some resentment that mercenaries should ride a horse which was, in many cases, superior to theirs. I knew that many of the ancient families of Castile also resented Rodrigo for his father had not been a true knight but preferred money and business. That was especially true of the nobles from Léon and I think came from my enemies, the Ordóñez family. The best part of this war was that we would be taking from my enemies as well as King Sancho’s. For once we served each other’s purpose.

  The church was a place of pilgrimage and we knew that King Alfonso would not let us take it. He met us with his army nine miles south of the town. I knew that Rodrigo was making the decisions when I saw scouts across the river. By the time we crossed we were almost wading through mud. The King and the senior lords were relatively untarnished but by the time the baggage was over the river then their liveries would all be the same, muddy brown!

  King Alfonso’s army faced us but, as at the last battle, they were a good distance from us. There would be words and there would be no surprises. This would be a battle before God to see who had the right. I knew from my many conversations with Rodrigo that he would have done things differently had he been in command. Here, however, he obeyed King Sancho and the battle would be fought in a predictable way.

  As we sat around the much-needed fire, Carl, who was a newer member of my company asked, “Who will win tomorrow, lord, or is it just in the hands of God?” Carl came from Saxon stock and, like me, had the ancient superstitions in his heart.

  Men touched their crosses for every warrior believed strongly in God and none wished him to be insulted. I chose my words carefully. “We will win tomorrow because God will wish us to but the Léonese believe that too and I think it will come down to the men that El Campeador trained and leads.”

  Jorge smiled and said, “And you, lord, for all men speak of William Redbeard. He was the man who trained El Campeador.”

  I smiled at the compliment, “You may not have noticed, Jorge, but there are just twenty of you who follow me. I do not think that it is we who will make the difference.”

  “Yet have you not told us, often, that on the chessboard the humble pawn can sometimes decide a battle?”

  “Aye, Christos, and that came from El Campeador himself so it may be that we are important tomorrow. It does not alter the way that we fight. As yet we have not been told where in the line we will fight but I will decide our formation. Abu and Geoffrey will cross to the other side of the river and we will fight in two lines. Jorge and Christos will be next to me and Sebastian and the horn will be behind me.”

  “And that is all?”

  “It is, Rafa, for we stay together and fight as one. We may be just twenty-one men, but we protect each other. I know how knights who have not been trained well fight. They seek an enemy that they think they can defeat, and they ignore orders so that they ride into situations where they may be outnumbered, or they may leave gaps in the line. That is where twenty-one men can make the difference.” I was thinking back to the battle of Atapuerca where Prince Sancho had done just that, and I had had to rescue him. He had, of course, long forgotten the incident.

  Rodrigo and Álvar came over to speak with us. I stood and closed with them so that we were apart from my men. I would give them their instructions myself. “Well, Don Rodrigo, are we bait again?”

  He smiled and shook his head, “Let it go, William. I was in just as much danger that day in Valencia and besides this is not a battle against the Moors. You and your men will be on the extreme left of the line and will be behind the men of Salamanca. Don Diego of Salamanca commands them.”

  I frowned for I knew not the man, “And what do we know of him?”

  Álvar lowered his voice and said, “My cousin here has placed you behind them so that should tell you all that you need to know, Will. The King has spoken to El Campeador.”

  Álvar and I got on well and his words were clear. Rodrigo was Armiger Regis and, as such, had to follow all of the King’s commands. Don Diego was considered a risk. He might flee or he might try to disobey his orders. He would be less likely to do so with Will Redbeard’s spear in his back. “And what are the orders for Don Diego?”

  Rodrigo was on firmer ground and he carried on brightly, “We have more archers and crossbows than the enemy. The King will advance them to weaken the enemy. When we deem them sufficiently weak then we will sound the horn. The knights of Navarre who now follow our banner will charge on the right. The enemy will expect the left flank to advance too but it will be the centre who will attack. When three blasts on the horn are sounded then the left will advance.”

  “So we get to just watch?” He n
odded. “Then, by the time we actually fight there will be precious little for my men to take. We are not knights, Don Rodrigo, we are swords for hire.”

  “Do not worry, Will, you and your men will be paid. I believe that we will win and when we do, I will ensure that some of the tribute goes to you!”

  I heard the disappointment in Rodrigo’s voice. He was disappointed in my attitude. Rodrigo had many estates and lived well. His father had died, and he had inherited both his father’s and grandfather’s lands. I had just Briviesca and the mountain manor was not a rich one. If I was to train men to fight for Castile, then I needed an income from war. However, I was sure that we would make enough from this battle to hire more men. I nodded, “And I will ensure that the men of Salamanca obey their orders.”

  Rodrigo left us. Álvar said, “Will, you will get your spurs one day but even if you did not then you are more respected than many lords who have huge estates and are closer to the King!” He followed Rodrigo.

  I knew that we would have to be ready to war before Lauds, the earliest service. The Kings would meet as the sun rose and we would receive our absolution from the Bishop of Burgos. I told the men to get as much rest as they could. Geoffrey and Abu saw to the horses and I walked to the river which moved sluggishly for there were patches of ice forming in the icy night. It was as I was there that Don Diego of Salamanca came over to speak to me. He was an older knight and looked to be a similar age to Roger of Bordeaux whom I had met in Pamplona all those years ago. I wondered why I had not seen him on campaign before. Then I realised that Salamanca had been held by the Moors until King Ferdinand had recaptured it. Don Diego must have been with the King.

  “Will Redbeard, I am pleased that the hero of Salamanca fights close to my men but I am just surprised that you do not lead us. Why is that?”

  He seemed like an honest man and I wondered if King Sancho had misjudged him. “I am not a knight, lord, and I lead just twenty men.”

  “Yet you are the one who usually protects El Campeador.”

  “I am honoured that the King and El Campeador have faith in me.”

  He nodded, “If you feel that the men of Salamanca are not doing as they should, I pray that you will speak with me for we wish to help the King of Castile but more than that we wish to aid El Campeador and his right arm, you, Will Redbeard.”

  As I lay down in my oiled cloak and fur that night, I reflected upon his words. I did not know the knight and yet he knew me. More than that it was clear that he held El Campeador in higher esteem than the King. That was dangerous for I knew King Sancho. I had fought for him since he had been little more than a boy. He thought highly of himself and would walk in no man’s shadow. I hoped it did not bode badly for my friend.

  We woke to a mist on the river and a frozen ground. Rodrigo was correct; this would be good ground for horses until, that is, the sun rose, and the earth began to warm. Then it would quickly turn to mud and suck at hooves and boots! We ate a frugal and cold breakfast before we were shriven by the Bishop. My men and I did not mount our horses, we led them to stand behind the men of Salamanca. They were all mounted and when Don Diego saw that we were not, he ordered his knights to dismount. It was the difference between one who was a noble and a real warrior. Rodrigo and I were both warriors and knew that we had to conserve our animals. We watched the two kings, their champions and their bishops, walk to the ground between us. Unlike most of those who waited at Golpejera, I had been privy to such meetings and knew what would be said. King Sancho would demand that King Alfonso bend the knee to him and King Alfonso would refuse. They would then return to their armies having gone through the formalities which, as they were conducted under the eyes of the church, would absolve them of any blame for the deaths which would follow.

  The sun would not make an appearance that day; it was a grey day and whilst it did not rain, it threatened to. Added to the short days of January, I wondered how long the battle would last. I saw that Rodrigo carried King Sancho’s banner. That made my friend doubly a target. He would be easier to see and he would have no shield with which to defend himself. Of course, all those years ago I had prepared El Campeador for such a task when I had had Álvar fight him in my gyrus. Álvar had had a shield and sword and Rodrigo just a sword. He had learned well and although I was confident, I was still worried for the men of Léon did not like El Campeador.

  The horn sounded and the archers and crossbows from both armies advanced and they duelled. The result was that both elements were neutralised and weakened. When they withdrew neither side had an advantage. Now it was down to the strategies of the two kings. When the horn sounded twice the Navarrese knights advanced and then I saw that King Alfonso was going to advance in the centre. That would upset Rodrigo’s plans. The two centres advanced and we, on the left flank, watched. Don Diego said, “Do we mount, Will Redbeard?”

  I shook my head, “There will be time enough for that, my lord!”

  Unusually for me I was able to watch a battle in which El Campeador fought. The enemy knights swirled around the standard and I saw Rodrigo’s mighty sword as it kept them all at bay. He was helped, of course, by Babieca who snapped and bit at the horses around them. The attack by our Navarrese knights had taken King Alfonso by surprise and he was forced to withdraw. Don Diego looked at me and I shook my head. The two brothers knew each other well and this battle would not end quickly for there were too few bodies on the battlefield as yet. Neither side had suffered many casualties.

  King Sancho seemed quite happy to sit and wait for his brother to make the next move and, inevitably, he did for we were on his land and so long as we remained here, we had a moral victory. He ordered his men into line and I said, “Now, Don Diego!”

  Relieved he ordered the left flank to mount. King Sancho had been wrong about Don Diego and there was no need to doubt his courage. I could have been by Rodrigo’s side, where I belonged. Once mounted we had a better view of the battlefield. The Leónese men who fought on foot had yet to be touched while many of those who had protected King Sancho now lay dead. The King of León ordered his foot soldiers to march forward while his horsemen advanced behind them to give them support. King Sancho, advised no doubt by Rodrigo, sounded the horn three times and our whole line advanced. The horses on our left flank were the freshest and we were able to ride faster but the advance of the Leónese army meant that we would not be at full gallop when we collided.

  Although we were not in the front rank, I had managed to place my twenty men immediately behind Don Diego. I saw, ahead, the banners of the knights we would be fighting and recognised a few of them. I had fought alongside them before. That meant they knew me and it was not arrogance that made me think that they would be fearing the clash more than we were. None would believe that they could defeat Rodrigo one to one and I had trained him; that made me a danger. They would not come at me individually but would try to outnumber me. Our fresher horses and those of the Leónese right wing ensured that we were the first to collide. Spears and lances shattered and shook. Horses screamed as wood and metal found unprotected flesh. No matter how much skill a warrior had a charge like this involved as much luck as anything.

  The relatively slow pace of the collision meant that the two lines were soon at a standstill as horsemen threw away their spears and lances and drew swords. The exception were my men and me. We all used spears and had spent many hours, on horseback, practising and we moved together as one. I had ensured that we all had a rhythm to our fighting and ten spears came back and thrust forwards as one when I took us into the gap created by Don Diego’s fallen knights. My men were the only ones who had retained their spears. Most knights used a lance and when it broke it was both unwieldy and useless. Added to that was the fact that the Leónese saw William Redbeard and I was still one of the biggest men on the battlefield. Our collective thrust knocked three knights from saddles and speared three more. More importantly we enlarged the gap and while Don Diego and his men held their own we advanced. All of our
training paid off. We were not knights and we had practised every day, even in the depths of winter. Our arms were like young oaks and they would not tire. The spears came back and thrust as one again. The fact that some of my men’s spears struck fresh air mattered not for they were a wall of steel before us.

  Then I heard a voice, it was that of Gonzalo Ordóñez and he shouted, from the rear of the enemy line, “A hundred crowns for the man who brings me Redbeard’s head!”

  I shouted, even louder, “Come and take it yourself, coward!”

  It was a challenge which the despicable knight ignored, and he paid the price for it had the opposite effect. The knights before us fell back; if their leader was not willing to fight me then why should they? We were now pushing the whole of the Leónese right flank inexorably backwards. I think we could have rolled up the line but the horns of both kings sounded the fall back and we obeyed. However, while Don Diego and his knights returned immediately to the starting position, my men took the opportunity to search the enemy dead, whom they had killed, for swords, coins, rings and other treasure. We took the reins of riderless horses and headed back to our starting point. All the hours spent training were vindicated as we had lost not a single man.

  Geoffrey and Abu had crossed the river from the camp and were now waiting with honey and vinegar to heal any hurts we had incurred. We had been lucky and so they crossed back with the horses and booty.

  Don Diego rode his horse to me, “We could have ended the battle there and then, William Redbeard!”

  I shook my head. Don Diego was a good man, but he had little experience of war. I was much younger but in terms of battles I felt ancient; I had been a boy at Atapuerca. “We could not see the whole battle, Don Diego. El Campeador was close to the horn and he approved. I have learned that there is a time to be reckless and a time to be cautious.” I pointed at the sky. “We fight, not on a summer day which lasts longer but a cold and wintery one which will soon be over. It will soon be too dark to fight, and King Sancho wishes a victory.”