Lord Edward's Archer

by Griff Hosker

  When we had covered four hundred paces and were hidden by the trees and undergrowth, Ralph held up his hand. We stopped. We were far enough from the horsemen to be able to hear the forest. There was silence. That in itself was a warning. There should have been noise. Animals should have been skittering through the dead material on the ground, and there was nothing. Ralph waved to the west and we began to move towards the trail. Alan and Henry moved further apart. I scanned the ground. It had rained recently, and I saw footprints in the mud. Someone with bare feet had been over the ground. We wore boots. Often the Scots went barefoot.

  As we neared the trail Ralph stopped us again. This time we heard a noise. It was the sound of squabbling birds. From the sounds, they were magpies. It was the fluttering wings of a pair of the birds that alerted me. They were pecking at a dead archer. I saw his leggings with the black and white stripes. They were now besmeared with blood. They were his lordship’s archers. Ralph saw them at the same time. He gave a low whistle and waved for Alan and Henry to keep watch and then gestured me forward.

  There were seven dead archers. Of their horses, there was no sign. I saw that John of Warrington would insult us no more. From the blood at his groin, I guessed what had happened to him after he had died. It begged the question, where were the others, and where were the horses? I headed towards the trail and saw signs of a struggle. The bracken and the grass had been flattened and was bloody. I saw hoofprints that led north and west. I pointed to them.

  Ralph nodded. “The Scots are gone. Go back and fetch the column.”

  I nodded, and putting my arrow back in my quiver, slipped my bow over my back. It made running easier.

  “My lord, there has been an ambush. We have found seven dead archers. The captain, the others and the horses are not there.”

  He nodded and turned to the men at arms and knights. “Follow me.”

  Hugh of Rhuddlan said, “Fetch the ponies.”

  I mounted my horse, and taking the reins of the others, rode after the column. This was a disaster. We had had pitifully few archers to begin with. Now that the Scots knew we were coming we would find the task even harder. I guessed they had taken the four archers either as hostages or to extract information.

  When we reached the scene of the ambush I saw that Ralph was examining the ground. He was a good tracker. “They have headed deeper into the forest, lord.”

  Sir Ranulf looked at Hugh of Rhuddlan. “What think you, Captain, a trap?”

  He nodded. “They would draw us deeper into the forest. Your horses make much noise, lord, as does your mail.”

  “We have been sent to rid the forest of these raiders. I cannot let them wander at will.”

  “No, lord, but the path we were on comes out close to Craven, and there it splits into two. The Scots could go to Lancaster or head north towards Carlisle. I would wager it to be Carlisle. If we head up the road, then we can wait at the crossroads and turn the ambush onto them.” He pointed to us archers. “These four can track and trail the Scots.”

  “They are our only archers!”

  Hugh shrugged. “Then if we lose them, we have lost but four men. Better that than we end up like John of Warrington here!”

  The baron nodded. He pointed to Ralph. “Can you find them?”

  Ralph nodded.

  “Then find them, and meet us at the crossroads with news of their whereabouts.”

  As the men at arms and knights moved off, we slung our bows over our backs and prepared to move off. Harry grumbled, “So it is fine for us to die, eh? I have a good mind to join the outlaws in Delamere!”

  Ralph hissed, “I know that you are fooling, Harry, but words like that could cost you your eyes. We will not end up like John of Warrington. We are used to the forest. Gruffyd, you have the youngest ears and eyes. Even a blind man can follow this trail. You lead. If you sense danger then drop to a knee. No heroics!”

  “No, Ralph!”

  I jammed my hat into my belt. I needed to see, hear and feel as I ran through the forest. Ralph was correct. The trail was easy to follow. They had taken horses. Horse tracks are the easiest to follow. I ran but I did not run recklessly. I did not want to be out of breath, and I did not want to stumble into an ambush. After half a mile I stopped. I smelled something ahead. I left my sword in my scabbard and drew my knife. I crept towards the bole of a large elm and crouched. I saw a foot. As soon as I saw the black and white legging, I knew it was another archer from Chester. I stepped around the tree and saw the body of Alan Red Fletch. He had a wound in his leg and his throat had been cut. He must have been slowing them down.

  Ralph appeared behind me. I pointed. He nodded and gestured for me to carry on. Captain Jack now had just two archers with him. Would they survive? Had they been taken, and if so why? After another half a mile I became aware that the Scots were now following a wider trail than before. They must have known where it was. This had been part of Scotland for some years. It was only in the time of King Henry that it had reverted to England. The trail was a hunter’s trail. I moved a little faster. I saw ahead of me a stinking pile of horse manure. It was steaming. The horse that had dropped it had to be less than half a mile ahead of me. I was getting close and I slowed, waving Ralph forward. I pointed to the horse muck and he nodded. He waved Harry and Alan forward.

  He slipped his bow from his back and nocked an arrow. We did the same. He pointed to me and Harry and then to his right. Then he tapped Alan’s chest and led him to the left. We moved through the forest now and avoided the trail. It was obvious where the trail was going. I began to hear voices. It was the Scots. A horse neighed and I heard a slap as someone struck the beast to silence it. Harry and I crept. The sound of the neigh and the voices gave us an indication of where they were. Harry nodded towards the trail. We were now thirty paces from it. We moved diagonally so that we were closing alongside the trail but still moving in the forest. I caught the flash of black and white. It was an archer.

  Once I saw the archer’s leg I stopped and moved my eyes slowly upwards. I caught sight of bare flesh. Often Scots warriors did not bother with anything above the waist. It was, to them, a sign of their courage. Once I had seen this glimpse of flesh I soon saw others. It seemed the Scots had stopped to rest. Without looking at the sun I could not work out the exact time, but I guessed it was shortly after noon. They must have thought that they had lost us. I realised that there were many footprints surrounding the horse’s dung. They had waited. They would have been listening for pursuit. Men on horses make a noise; perhaps they had also been listening out when they had slain Alan Red Fletch.

  I looked at Harry. What could four of us do against an unknown number of Scots? He must have read my thoughts. He pointed further down the trail. Up ahead Sir Ranulf was waiting with forty men. Our job was just to keep watch. We continued to creep and I heard the voices of the Scots. Their words were unclear, for they were speaking quietly. The horses stamped their feet. I heard them tearing grass from beneath the trees. I caught the sound of a man making water against a tree. We moved another few paces and then Harry froze. Suddenly we saw men. We had reached the head of the Scottish column. I could see a mailed warrior and he was astride a horse. Harry squatted and I copied him. We waited. Archers are patient creatures. Most of us are hunters and know how to stalk. We were now stalking humans. It was no different.

  They did not stop long. I heard the warrior in the hauberk snap, “Move, we have fifteen more miles yet to travel.” I heard grumbling. “Scouts out!” I saw three half-naked men lope off to the north.

  They were not going to Lancaster. They were heading for the valley which led up past Coningeston. They could not possibly reach Coningeston. I knew they must be heading to a camp which was north of the Lancaster road. We moved as they moved. Acutely aware that sudden movements would make it easier for them to see us, we used the trees for cover. Only one of us moved at a time. Each time I moved I watched the column of men and animals. I spied Captain Jack. He had been beaten.
He had a bloodied head. I marked him and the two men who guarded him. I did not see the other two, but I suspected they would keep their three prisoners separate. No one had told me what we were going to do if it came to a fight, but saving the three archers would be a priority for the four of us. The knights and men at arms could deal with the others.

  Not knowing these woods, nor the distance we had to travel was unnerving. We had been told to follow, to track and trail. We had done that. What next? As the trees began to thin, I had my answer. There was a cry from the far side of the Scots. One of the mailed men was thrown from his horse. He shouted as he fell and his horse bolted towards the thinner trees. Suddenly every back was turned to us as the Scots faced this threat. I raised my bow, ready to end the life of any Scot who came within range, but Harry restrained me and nodded for me to follow him. He was my senior and I did as he instructed.

  Ralph and Alan were using their arrows well. Men fell and the Scots had to lift their shields to protect themselves. I heard the warrior shout, “After them! There cannot be many!” The numbers before us thinned as the Scots scattered. I saw that the prisoners were bound, but they had now brought the three of them them together. Tim and Walther looked as bloody as Captain Jack. Three men guarded them. I now knew what Harry intended.

  We moved silently. I saw Harry slip his bow over his back and take out his short sword. When we were just ten feet from the column of Scots, he pointed for me to guard his back. Harry was a killer and he was the toughest man I knew. He crept close to the Scot on the right and, in one motion, pulled back his head and slit his throat. I sent an arrow into the back of the one on the left, and even as the middle one turned to stab at Harry, I had drawn a second arrow, nocked it and sent it through the side of his head. Harry cut the bonds of the three archers. I had an arrow ready. There was too much noise for the three deaths to be noticed.

  Captain Jack and his two archers grabbed weapons from the dead Scots and moved back towards me. They were seen.

  “The prisoners! This is a trick!”

  Harry had his bow out, and the two of us ended the lives of the first two heroes who ran at us. Captain Jack led his two men deeper into the forest. They were not moving quickly, for they were wounded. I was pulling and nocking arrows as fast I could, but the Scots were now using the trees and their superior numbers. Had it just been Harry and me, we could have melted away, but the three wounded men would slow us down. Ultimately, they might just get us killed

  .

  Harry and I had been moving closer together as we moved back. Once we used our last arrows we would have to fight together with our swords. I sensed a movement to my left and I spun and loosed, almost without thinking. One of the Scots had sneaked around and was just ten feet from me. My arrow ripped into his chest, only the feathers protruded. Even so, he continued to run at me. I took an arrow from my quiver. I had no time to nock it, and so I rammed it through his eye and into his skull. The arrow broke but he died. I was down to three arrows.

  Then I heard a cry, “England!” It was Sir Ranulf, the knights and the men at arms approaching. We were still in danger. The men who pursued us had lost friends. Just as we would have done, so did they seek vengeance.

  “Back to us!” I heard Captain Jack’s voice. I sent another arrow towards the advancing men. My arrow hit one in the shoulder. He broke it off and continued to charge. These men were hard. I flicked a glance over my shoulder and saw that Captain Jack and his two men were between two oaks. They had their captured weapons ready and were making a stand. I used my penultimate arrow to end the life of the wounded Scot and ran back.

  “Get behind us.”

  “I have but one arrow left!”

  “Then use it well!”

  I stood behind them and saw the ten Scots who advanced towards us. Most were not mailed. They wore no helmets and most were bare-chested with wildly tattooed bodies. In their left hands they held small bucklers, whilst in their right, they held weapons ranging from axes to swords, clubs to small hammers. These were not warriors, but they were killers. One had a mail vest and I used my last arrow on him. At a range of ten paces my arrow would not be stopped by mail. He looked down as the arrow struck him in the chest. The strike must have hit something vital for he fell backwards, as though poleaxed.

  I dropped my bow and drew my sword and my hunting knife. It was sharp enough to shave with. I stood next to Tim. He gave a wan smile. “Nice arrows, archer!”

  “Thank you.” The fact that I was complimented by his lordship’s archer made me swell with pride.

  “I hope you are as good with that sword or it could all be in vain.”

  Harry had also used his last arrows and he stood next to Walther. There were seven of them and five of us. The fact that we had three injured men, and that my lack of beard made me look like a boy, must have given them encouragement, for they raced at us, swinging their weapons wildly. Had I not fought with a sword before I might have been intimidated. Because I was on the outside, two men came at me. One was ahead of the other. I had been taught to take the closest target first. The other would only be a heartbeat behind his companion. The first Scot had an axe held in two hands, while the one behind had a buckler and a short sword.

  I must have appeared like a frightened rabbit to the Scot with the axe, for as he swung and I didn’t move, he shouted, “Are ye filling yer breeks, Englishman?”

  In answer, I dropped to one knee, and as the axe cracked into the bole of a tree, rather than my head, I drove my hunting knife up between his legs and into his guts. I had gutted wild boar. This was easier. With the axe embedded, his hands went to his stomach. I stood and used my powerful shoulders to drive his body into the swordsman behind him. The dying man fell backwards and I slashed my sword sideways. It was more in hope than expectation, but the swordsman’s buckler was ineffective. His dying companion lay against it. My sword struck the swordsman’s thigh and, as I pulled it backwards, I saw that it was slick with blood.

  I was learning that, in a battle, you concentrated upon your own fight and didn’t worry about others. I heard screams and shouts from behind me but I ignored them. The man I had wounded could still fight. I had seen wild pigs, stuck with boar spears. They had still eviscerated an unwary hunter. The Scot seemed enraged that I had hurt his leg. Blood was pouring from the wound. It was not mortal, but it needed attention. He tried to strike me in the face with his buckler. His left leg did not give him the support he needed, and the blow was easily blocked by my knife. He swung his sword at me, thinking that my sword could not reach him. He was right, but he didn’t realise how strong I was. I hooked my left leg around his right, and as he swung, I pushed. With a weakened left leg, he tumbled to the ground. As I lay prostrate, I hacked my sword across his neck. It was a powerful blow and the head rolled away.

  “Gruffyd!”

  I turned in time to see Tim’s butchered body and both Harry and Captain Jack fighting two men each. I ran, screaming. It distracted one man who was fighting Captain Jack. He turned, but he turned too late. I swung my sword hard across his middle. Scraping off his ribs, it hacked deep into his body. He was dead, even as I withdrew my sword. I stabbed the other Scot in the arm, and that allowed Captain Jack to ram his sword deep into his body. Harry was struck, just as I turned to go to his aid. I saw my friend fall. He had been hit by a small war hammer. I stabbed with both knife and sword at the two men who had fought him. Both found flesh and made the men turn. Captain Jack’s sword hacked across the face of one man. That left one other . I had stabbed his left arm. He was bleeding but he was not willing to die.

  Swinging his sword from on high, he attempted to bring it down and split my head in two. Instinctively, I brought up my own sword. I was an archer. I had muscles as thick as young oaks. Our swords jarred together. My father had told me that it was a good sword, and the clash of steel proved it. The Scot’s sword bent. He looked up in surprise as I drove my dagger up between his ribs. As it scraped off bone I twisted. His eyes gl
azed over and blood oozed from his mouth.

  I looked around for more enemies. The battle at the path still raged, but we were now an island of the dead. Walther was lying, like Harry, unconscious. They had both been struck in the head by the small war hammer. I knelt to see to Harry and Captain Jack did the same for Walther. As he did so I heard him say, “Jack of Warrington could not have been more wrong about you, Gruffyd son of Gerald. I would offer you the chance to fight for his lordship.”

  I was too busy looking at the wound of my friend to take in the offer. I often wondered what would have happened if I had accepted. I just dismissed it. “Thank you, Captain, but I will serve Sir Henry a little while longer.”

  Harry groaned. Captain Jack said, “Your friend must have a harder head than poor Walther here. My archer, like Tim and the others, is dead.”

  I took Harry’s water skin and forced some between his lips. He coughed and said, with his eyes still closed, “Are you trying to poison me? You give a wounded man wine, or, at the very least, beer.”

  Captain Jack said, “He will survive. Now look lively and arm yourself. We are not out of danger yet.”

  As it turned out we were. Ralph and Alan came racing through the woods with swords drawn. Alan had a bandage around his head and a bloody face. They had fought hard too. Ralph grinned when he saw us both alive. “I thought to find two butchered bodies here. I am right pleased you live. And you too, Captain Jack. Come, the Scots are dead. Let us see what offerings these miserable vermin hold.”

  Captain Jack said, “Whatever is here goes to these two archers. But for them, I would be dead. They could not save my two archers, but this young Ajax slew four and wounded one. They deserve it.”