by H A CULLEY
Hugh left the young Scot in a cell at Otterburn for two weeks then sent for him when he returned there from the family’s main castle at Harbottle. Elliot Elwold looked quite different when two guards brought him into the great hall. Someone had obviously given him a good wash, and had done the same for his somewhat tattered tunic. The boy’s homely freckled face housed two intelligent eyes that bored into you as if trying the read your soul. His bare arms and legs were as pale as his face; presumably they had been protected from the sun by dirt in the past. Elliot stood in front of Hugh looking cocky, but he no longer looked as if he wanted to bite him. ‘We will need someone who speaks his dialect.’ Hugh turned to his uncle, John de Cuille, who was the constable at Otterburn.
‘You won’t need one, Hugh. He speaks and understands enough English to get by.’ Although, like all Normans, Hugh’s first tongue was a version of French, he also spoke the language of the Saxons and Anglo-Danes.
‘I have heard from your father, Elliot. He doesn’t seem that keen to exchange you for what he stole.’ The boy looked surprised, then confused. He had obviously never doubted that he would soon be returned to his own people. ‘He says that he has many other sons and your eleven-year old brother has now changed his name to Elliot.’ Hugh watched the boy carefully for his reaction. The Scot tried to hide his resentment, but failed.
‘So I have a dilemma. What do I do with you?’ Hugh paused. ‘I suppose that the simplest thing would be to hang you by the neck and watch you wriggle and squirm until your face turns blue as you struggle for breath and slowly die. Is that what you’d like?’ The boy shook his head despondently. ‘Umm; then what do you suggest I should do with you?’
The boy thought for a minute or so. ‘Ye could let me help ye to wreak havoc on the family that has abandoned me amongst my enemies.’ He spoke angrily in quite passable English.
Hugh looked at him. The fierceness was back, but this time it was not directed at Hugh and his men.
‘Very well. You will show us the way to Saughtree and tell us how it is guarded so we can take them unawares and recover what is ours. I don’t want to kill anyone but I will do if you betray us. And I’ll let the bailiff of Byrness hang you up by the balls after all. You understand?’
The boy shuddered. ‘Aye, my lord. I ken just fine.’
After Elliot had been taken away Sir John turned to Hugh. ‘Did the boy’s father really reply casting his son aside?’
Hugh laughed. ‘Not quite, uncle. The crafty old man offered me half the cattle back plus his twelve year old daughter to warm my bed in exchange for his son, but said he wouldn’t go any higher. I don’t think my wife would approve if I accepted the girl; but, in any case, if she looks anything like her brother, I can’t imagine a less attractive proposition.’
Two nights later Hugh, Elliot and twenty men, all experienced in border raids, left Byrness and rode on garrons with muffled hooves across Girdle Fell to the source of Kielder Burn. There was a moon but it was hidden by clouds most of the time. They turned north east under the shadow of Kielder Castle in the barony of Hexham, where the sentries had been warned to expect them, and crossed the border at Deadwater. From here Elliot led the way, riding beside Hugh as they neared Wauchope Forest. At this point it was only three miles to Saughtree, which lay in the valley between Saughtree Fell and Foulmire Heights but, instead of going down the valley, Elliot led them along the tops, just below the skyline, until they reached Larriston Fells from where they headed downhill to hit the track that led up Liddesdale from Larriston to Saughtree. Elliot had assured Hugh that there would be no sentries keeping watch on this approach.
When the clouds parted to let the moon shine down they could see sheep and cattle grazing on the slopes of Saughtree Fell to the north, where there was good, open grazing. Elliot had said that there would only be a couple of youths keeping guard over them so it should be easy to run the livestock off and back towards Deadwater. The problem was the horses, which were kept in a paddock under the tower that guarded the village on that side. Furthermore, Hugh was adamant that he wanted enough coin taken to pay for both the erection of a new mill and a tower to protect Byrness. The only way to do this was to seize the Elwold’s tower.
Elliot tapped at the stout wooden door at the base of the four storey tower. Like most similar structures in the borders it was built of stone. When challenged by a sleepy voice from inside Elliot told whoever it was that he had escaped. The bar was immediately removed and the door opened by a girl of perhaps fifteen. The boy pulled her too him and clamped his hand over her mouth whilst one of Hugh’s men bound and gagged her. Leaving her lying outside, Elliot led the men into the tower. The ground floor was full of men and women fast asleep, except for one rutting couple who were too intent on their lovemaking to notice the intruders until it was too late. Hugh had promised Elliot that there would be as little bloodshed as possible and so his men knocked out the amorous pair and then clubbed the rest as they slept to make sure they didn’t wake up until Hugh’s raiding party were long gone.
The next floor was his father’s chamber where Elliot said he kept his strongbox. Hugh crept inside the door and went over to the pile of furs on the floor that evidently served as the bed. A middle-aged man lay entwined in the limbs of a nubile young girl who was scarcely older than Elliot; evidently the man’s bed mate wasn’t Elliot’s mother. The two were roughly pulled apart and hands clamped over their mouths whilst daggers tickled their necks. Elliot came into the room, looked down at his father’s startled face and then spat in his eyes. The couple were bound and gagged, then two men lifted the heavy strongbox from where Elliot had pointed it out, hidden behind a panel in the wall.
Leaving the top two floors, which Elliot said housed his mother and his siblings, they left the tower quietly, emptied the strongbox of the sacks it contained until Hugh reckoned he had enough to pay for the mill and the tower, and then left the rest. Hugh wanted to teach the Elwolds a lesson and recover what they had stolen, not start a cross border war. He left five men at the horse paddock to pick out the stolen horses and put them on a leading rein whilst he led the rest onto the higher slopes of the fell above the village. Two boys guarding the animals shouted a warning and blew on a horn so Hugh’s line of men started to yell and drove the cattle and sheep down the slope towards the track to Deadwater. Three of the men at the paddock led the recovered horses out at a smart trot whilst the other two scattered the rest to delay the pursuit.
Several sentries sat round a fire at the side of the track a little way from the village but they ran for their lives when the saw the mass of animals coming straight for them at speed. A few of the cattle and sheep got scattered and left behind during the dash for Deadwater and the safety of Kielder Castle but Hugh was more than satisfied as they had recovered quite a few more than they had lost. By dawn they were safely back at Byrness. At first Hugh thought that they had succeeded in the raid without any losses, not even a minor wound. Then he realised that Elliot was missing. He didn’t particularly mind as the boy had served his purpose, and he wasn’t sure what to do with him now anyway; but he was surprised as the lad must have known that his clan would skin him alive for betraying them.
It wasn’t that Elliot had deserted Hugh: his horse had put its leg in a hole in the mad dash for the border and had broken it. The boy was thrown clear and suffered no more than cuts and bruises. As he got to his feet Elliot could hear the sentries yelling to each other and realised that they couldn’t be too far away. His garron was whinnying loudly because of the pain so Elliot pulled out his dagger – his only weapon - and cut its throat. The blood spurted out over his face, arms and freshly washed tunic; some got in his eyes, temporarily blinding him. He wiped the gore away and looked around him. In the dark he couldn’t see much but then the moon came out from behind a cloud and he saw four men running up the track in his direction.
He cautiously made his way to a nearby oak tree, keeping in the shadows then, jumping up to grasp a low branch, he
swung his legs up and around the branch. He pulled himself round until he was lying on the branch then rapidly climbed up until he was out of sight. The four men stood in a huddle about a hundred yards away debating what to do when his father and a dozen men came riding up. Elliot’s heart was pounding: he felt sure he would be found but then several riders went off to round up the cattle and sheep that had been left behind whilst his father led the rest towards Deadwater. Elliot shook his head in disbelief. They must have known that Hugh and his men would be beyond Kielder Castle by now and therefore safe from pursuit, even driving animals. Half an hour later they were back and he could clearly hear his father’s curses from where he hid. The worst of the man’s invective was directed at Elliot and the boy had no illusions about what would happen to him were he to be caught.
Then one of the men found his dead garron. Immediately the riders dismounted and tried to follow Elliot’s trail but it was too dark so, leaving three men behind, the rest went back to Saughtree. Once they had gone Elliot realised that he had to get as far away as possible before morning. The men would be back with dogs at first light and it wouldn’t take them long to find his scent.
He quietly climbed down the tree and made off along an animal trail through Wauchope Forest. He didn’t dare try to cross the Cheviots at Deadwater; his father was sure to have left men there. He would have to make for Carter Bar instead. Every time he came to a burn he walked through the water for a good distance. It wouldn’t stop the dogs finding where he had exited the stream but it would delay them.
Living on water from the many burns and grabbing handfuls of blackberries to eat, he managed to stay ahead of his pursuers throughout the next day. That evening he supplemented his meagre diet with a nice fat trout that he had managed to tickle. He had to eat it raw, not daring to try and light a fire. As evening faded into night he stopped for a much needed rest. He calculated that he was near the end of the forest and turned east, away from the setting sun, to climb up towards the open moorland above Carter Bar. He waited at the edge of the trees then, after darkness had fallen, he continued up across the border and dropped down into Redesdale. As he crested the skyline he heard shouts below him. His father’s men were only about a thousand yards behind him so he ran the last few miles to Byrness.
After the last raid Hugh had stationed six men-at-arms and two serjeants at the village. He had also started work on the small fortification that they would man. As Elliot ran into the village he started to yell a warning. He hadn’t gone more than a hundred paces when he ran into the arms of two sentries.
‘What have we got here? Where do you think you’re going, you Scots whelp?’
‘You’re on the wrong side of the border sonny. We’ve a fine rope that’ll fit your neck nicely.’ The two men-at-arms grinned at each other.
‘What’s going on?’ The bailiff and several villagers arrived on the scene, closely followed by the other members of the small garrison.
‘The Elwold clan are right behind me. I got cut off from Sir Hugh’s raiding party and they’ve been chasing me.’ Elliot cried out desperately in his Scot’s accented English.
‘Yes, it’s Elliot Elwold right enough. Let him go.’ The bailiff instructed and reluctantly the two soldiers did as they were bid, disappointed at losing their chance to see the young Scot dance at the end of a rope.
Just then the boy’s pursuers emerged out of the gloom and charged the group of soldiers and villagers. Three of the men-at-arms had bows and sent several arrows in quick succession towards the riders. Two horses and a man were hit and the rest beat a rapid retreat, scooping up the two unhorsed men but leaving the dead one behind. As Elliot left the next day on a borrowed garron and accompanied by one of the serjeants as escort, presumably sent by the bailiff to make sure he got his horse back, he saw that the dead Scot had been suspended by the neck from a tree as a warning to others. It was with a start that he recognised the man as his seventeen year old cousin.
Hugh was still faced with the problem of what to do with Elliot. He hadn’t reached any decision before Hugh’s elder son arrived. Richard was a tall boy for his age with broad shoulders that indicated the powerful man that he would become. His was an open honest face which was often lit up by an infectious smile. Richard had been a page at Alnwick Castle for the past five years but he was on a visit to his family before becoming the squire to Robert de Muschamp, baron of Wooler, when he turned fourteen.
Hugh was somewhat surprised when Elliot and Richard had got on well together from the start and soon became firm friends. Richard was home for a month so Hugh put off deciding what to do with the young Scot until after his son had left. The two boys developed a passion for hunting together. Richard was quite proficient with the bow and started to teach Elliot, though it would take the latter time to build up the muscle power needed to draw a bow properly. The Scot was a natural stalker with the patience that Richard lacked. Often they came home with nothing after a day out in the hills but sometimes they brought home a hare or two, or even the odd deer slung across a garron. In return Elliot taught Richard how to tickle trout in the River Rede which ran past Otterburn.
Eventually the day came for Richard to leave. Hugh had been intrigued by his son’s developing passion so the day after Richard left he went out with Elliot and the two men who had normally accompanied the boys. He had often hunted on horseback following his dogs in pursuit of a stag or the occasional pack of wolves that preyed on the sheep, but he had never stalked game on foot. It lacked the excitement of the chase but there was a different exhilaration to be had in stealthily creeping up on a quarry until it was within range of the bow. He was more than pleased when they came back to the castle with a small doe. He couldn’t remember a day when he had felt so satisfied with life and, when his wife, Alice, suggested it in bed that night, he decided that perhaps the solution for Elliot was to keep him on to fill the larder with game and trout and be his occasional hunting companion.
Elliot seemed happy with the idea and had even started to wash occasionally. Hugh gave him a new woollen tunic with long sleeves to replace the simple sleeveless one he had been captured in, but he refused to wear braies and insisted on going everywhere barefoot. Elliot’s one concern was that his vengeful father might find him, but he took comfort from the fact that Harbottle was a good ten miles across the tops of the Cheviots from the border and Otterburn, where Hugh and his family spent some of the time, lay fifteen miles down Redesdale from Carter Bar. He might have been less sanguine if he had known that his father had offered a sizeable reward for his head.
~#~
Robert of Locksley looked the man-at-arms facing him in the eye. ‘Just as a matter of curiosity, what made you follow me?’
‘You don’t remember me, do you? No reason why you should. But I remember you. I was in the escort of Lord William Peverel when he visited Sir Guy a few years ago. You were his squire then. That’s before you turned into a vicious killer. Now there’s a nice fat price on your head which I intend to collect.’
Robert had felt to one side with his foot whilst the man was talking and found the helmet of the man he had killed. As the soldier in front of him lunged with his sword he ducked to one side and thrust forward with his dagger, forcing his opponent to recover. As he did so Robert dropped to one knee and scooped the helmet up with his other hand. He threw the heavy metal object in the other man’s face and, as he recoiled in surprise, Robert leaped up and jammed his dagger in the man’s neck. The soldier dropped to the ground fatally wounded just as the other two men-at-arms came running up. Pausing only to scoop up the fallen sword in his other hand, Robert hared off down the alley.
There was a bend at the end and beyond it was an eight foot tall fence. Robert could hear his pursuers pounding down the alley behind him so he sheathed his dagger, threw the sword over the fence and leaped up, getting his elbows over the top. He just managed to swing his leg up so he could get his ankle on the top when the two men behind him came round the bend an
d yelled for him to stop. He pushed himself up and rolled over the fence to land the other side somewhat winded. A second or two later he lifted his head and looked around him. Thankfully he had fallen in a small manure heap, which had broken his fall. On the minus side he was now covered in horse dung and straw.
A stable stood to one side of the yard behind a prosperous merchant’s house, outside which stood a fat man with his mouth wide open and an older man, obviously a servant. The merchant had been about to mount a jennet, the reins of which the servant held in one hand.
Robert got to his feet and winced. He had strained something when he fell. He picked up the sword and waved it at the two men, motioning them away from the horse. The merchant did so whimpering in fear but the old man showed more backbone until Robert stuck the point of the sword under his chin. The men chasing him were trying to climb over the fence so Robert wasted no more time, mounted the horse, kicked the servant out of the way and cantered off down the alley to one side of the house and out into Castle Gate. He discarded the sword as he went. Carrying a naked blade through the town was bound to be noticed.
He was within a minute’s ride of the church where he had arranged to meet Marianne but he regretfully concluded that the prudent move would be to quit Nottingham before the sentries were told to stop and question everyone trying to leave. He decided not to retrace his steps to Chapel Bar but instead headed through the southern part of the English Borough and out onto the London road via the bridge over the River Leen. Smelling and looking as he did Robert attracted the odd strange look but had no trouble. Luckily the guards on the gate were having an argument with a carter, whose vehicle was partially blocking the narrow bridge after a wheel had broken. He trotted past the offending cart and rode down the London road until he was out of sight.