by Griff Hosker
As we approached each fire we heard the banter. That was always a good sign. They rarely grumbled. “You men have enough arrows?”
“Aye, my lord. We do not waste them like some.”
“Roger of Bath do you have enough vinegar and honey? We have few healers with us.”
“We can deal with anything other than an amputation lord and even then, we could probably save most limbs. All but the head eh, Earl?”
They all laughed.
“And our sentries are vigilant?”
“If they are not then they answer to me.”
We headed back to the tent of the Count. I found it sad that the other lords had not walked amongst their men. It was easier to lead men you knew well. I had seen, clearly, that they were in good spirits. The other lords would have to guess. The first sign that they were wrong would be when their men fled the field.
The King had not arrived by the middle watch. My men woke me before dawn as instructed. The Count of Caen also asked to be woken and when he came to speak, deferred to me. “What do we do it they attack?”
“If they see that the King’s banner is not here then they will attack., The simple answer is that we defend. We have the knights fight on foot. We have two blocks of men at arms on the flank and the knights in the centre. The archers will fill in behind.”
“They are few in number. Most are yours.”
“I know and I think that is why the King brought us. We do not have many knights but our archers make up for that.”
By dawn we were in position. Many of the men brought by the Count complained. I smiled as I heard my men at arms threaten them if they did not stop whining. They stopped. We had done the right thing for even as the sun came up the French advanced. How did they know that the King was not with us? Did they have spies in our camp? This was not the time to worry about such matters. This would be a hard-fought battle. I counted at least three hundred lances amongst the French. There could have been more for the walls of the town hid much from us. We had two hundred and fifty. Our King had fifty with him. Their knights advanced across the whole front. They sought to batter us with horse and steel. We all had our own spears but the French lances would help them to strike first. I was glad now that we had embedded stakes. They could get through them but they could not charge in a solid line.
I joined my men at the front. I left the Count of Caen with a reserve of twenty knights. They would counter any break through. Fitzwaller had betrayed us. If he had not gone for help then we might have captured Bourges as we had captured Vierzon and the King wold be in a position of power.
I stood between Alf and Padraig. Both were big warriors. The three of us stood a whole head above the rest of our line and I knew that we would draw attention not to mention swords and lances. A horn sounded and the French advanced. They came together. Unless the knights struck us at a walk there would come some point where they would charge and leave the men at arms and crossbows behind. We had but a hundred and twenty archers. It was nowhere near enough but it would have to do.
The French commander knew his business. He kept his knights knee to knee and advancing slowly enough to maintain the integrity of his line. I was not worried. My archers would unleash their hail of arrows when they were two hundred paces from us. Ralph of Lincoln had assured me that with the wind behind we had the range. A few of the horses which advanced had protection for their heads. Some even had caparisons but if my archers’ arrows fell amongst the horses they would be hurt.
Behind me I heard a horn in the distance, as the King and his men approached. It was too late to change our plans now. I locked my shield with those of Padraig and Alf. I had faced horses before and they held no fear for me. The horses would try to turn if they could. The French knights had stakes to negotiate and soon they would have an arrow storm as well. I heard them cheer as they were ordered to the gallop.
“Nock! Draw!” There was a wait of a heartbeat or two and then Ralph of Lincoln roared, “Release!” I felt the air above me move as the arrows made the sky briefly darken. Even as the first flight was in the air the second was on the way and the French were about to have a lesson in why we used bows and not crossbows. The third flight darkened the skies as the first flight struck. I saw horses fall. I saw men hit. Two even fell from their horses. The second and third flights opened more gaps and then the knights in the next ranks had to jump the fallen horses and men. In jumping some fell from their horses. Others collided with men to the side. To someone watching from the rear of the French lines it would not appear too bad but we saw gaps and there was no longer a solid line.
“Brace!” I leaned my spear against my shield and jammed my foot against the haft.
More arrows dropped and as the range had shortened more men and horses fell. I watched the knight with the blue shield and white cross charge towards me. He appeared to bear a charmed life. I saw an arrow sticking from his mail and his shield had three flights embedded but he came on and he was aiming his lance at me. Thomas held my standard behind me and my father’s reputation was enough to draw the spears and lances towards me. The knight had to slow to twist around and negotiate the stakes. He needed to be able to jump the first of the ditches and then skid around the second line of stakes before trying to jump the second ditch. It took the speed from his horse. Many of his companions had fallen but still they came for the son of the Warlord and his household knights.
The knight had a full-face helmet and I realised that he was struggling to see the obstacles but I knew when he saw me for his lance drew back and he spurred his horse to clear the ditch. I watched him land and then saw the lance as it came for my head. It seemed to come in slow motion. The knight knew his business for he kept it steady. He had won tourneys! I punched my shield towards it and trusted to the placement of my spear. The lance shattered and broke on my shield. My arm was driven back but I held. Then his horse was struck by my spear. I felt it drive into the beast and I let go lest I be dragged with it. The animal veered to my left, away from me, and I saw the knight struggling to keep his saddle. He was unbalanced and the horse falling for I had given it a mortal wound. He failed to keep his saddle and fell towards me. His shield was now a dead weight dragging him to the ground and as a defence, useless.
In one move I drew my sword and stepped from the line. I brought my sword over from behind my right shoulder. It was a sweep and I hit his arm between the elbow and the shoulder. My blade bit deep and grated off bone. I sawed it back and he screamed. The blood spurted and I stepped back into the protection of our line. I glanced down our line and saw that some of the French knights had managed to make inroads. Perhaps the shields had not been locked as tightly or the knights might have been unlucky. Whatever the reason some horsemen had broken our line. We had to stand firm.
A spear came towards Padraig. As he fended it off it veered towards me. I hacked into the spear as Padraig slashed his sword across the knight’s horse’s throat. The horse reared in its death throes. My household knights all held up our shields for protection. A knight whose horse had been struck by an arrow and was on foot sought to take advantage of our predicament and raced towards us. Sir James had quick reactions. Lowering his shield, he ran at the knight and stuck him bodily. James, who had been a scrawny squire, had grown in size since he had become Lord of Forcett. He was now more like his father Edward. He hit the knight with such force that he knocked him from his feet. Alf used his sword two handed to hit the horse of the knight next to him. He almost took the head of the beast. As the dying horse fell, crushing its rider we reformed our line and brought our shields down once more.
The French knight knocked to the ground by Sir James yelled, “I yield!”
Taking his sword Sir James gestured behind us. “To the rear!” The knight began to trudge and Sir James shouted to his son, who assisted his other squire, William, “Thomas, take this knight to the rear.”
There had been a hiatus as the French had reorganised their lines. It gave us time to cat
ch breath and adjust straps. Wounded knights and men at arms who could no longer fight were taken to the rear and fresh men stepped into their places. Along the flanks their men at arms were now engaged with ours as the archers continued to whittle down the French. Their crossbows, which had done some damage at first, now had no targets. Crossbows had to have line of sight to be used. Our archers sent arrows over our heads. Some of the knights with me still had their spears but most had swords in their hands. I took my broken spear and rammed the shaft into the soft earth so that the head faced the French. It would be another obstacle.
Sir James’ squire had helped Thomas through the lines and when he returned he shouted, “The King is come! I have seen his standard.”
We now had a good reserve. The word spread down the line that the King had come. Knights and men at arms who were not engaged with the battle began banging their shields and chanting King Henry’s name. A horn sounded three times and the French knights began to advance once more. They had lost too many horses in their first charge and they came on foot. The knights, with mail, helmets and shields held above them were safe from the arrows my archers continued to rain. The advance would be slower but they would arrive together. They had left their lances behind and came towards us with swords, axes and maces. The stakes and the dead gave us a barrier but the French would only be slowed a little. I saw that the French knights were four ranks deep. We had one rank to receive them with squires behind. If they broke our line then they would shatter our defence.
I shouted, “Brace and prepare to receive swords!”
The French maintained their cohesion right up to the moment where they reached the stakes. I watched one knight run and spring up onto a dead horse. Richard of Stockton did not panic and held up his shield as the French knight came through the air towards him. The French knight mistimed his blow and the flat of the blade hit Sir Richard on his shoulder. Sir Richard’s sword drove up between the Frenchman’s legs. The body landed with a thud before Sir Richard’s squire, Arthur. The squires cheered. Other knights tried the same move. It was a brave one and a risky one. If it succeeded then a hole would be punched in our lines. I had little time to worry about that for the next wave reached us. These had taken the more traditional route of picking their way through the stakes and the dead. Many sought the honour of killing the son of the Warlord. Now I understood what my father had endured these many years. The best of the French sought the Earl!
The two French knights who came for me must have been related for they had similar devices upon their shields. One had an axe and the other a long sword. The axe swung first and I took that on my shield. The sword hacked sideways towards my unprotected middle. My father had fast hands; so did I and I blocked the blow with my sword. As I saw the shield come towards my face I had to step backwards. When I did so I saw that a flying knight had managed to penetrate the line. Knights were fighting with our squires. The battle hung on the edge of a knife.
I stepped forward and punched my own shield toward the knight with the axe. I had to risk being struck by the sword of the other. I could not fight defensively. I was slightly taller than the swordsman and I brought my sword from on high. He could not bring his shield around fast enough and had to block the blow with his sword. Sparks rank but the knight reeled. He had been slightly off balance. My shield had connected with the axeman’s shield and he had stepped back. It was time for risk taking and I left the line to punch again before the axe man could recover and begin to swing his weapon. He had to take a long stride back to keep his balance and as he did so I swung my sword backhand at the swordsman. Two things happened at once. First, my sword bit into the side of the swordsman who had seen an opportunity to strike at the unprotected back of the Earl and secondly, one of my archers had had clear sight and sent an arrow into the face of the axeman as he stood.
The risk had paid off but the integrity of our line was gone for the French had broken our line in several places. A wedge of French knights now drove towards our baggage. They were between us and the river. We had to echelon back or risk being flanked. “Sir Gilles! Pull around at right angles! Shield wall!”
With me as the corner Sir Gilles stepped backwards as did Sir Padraig and their squires. Thomas of Piercebridge held my standard aloft so that all would see that the movement did not mean retreat. Then I heard a horn from the rear. A charge had been signalled. That would be the King who would be attempting to salvage victory from defeat.
Sir Gilles’ movement allowed more men through the gap but now they were attacked in the flank. The squires had spears. They lunged and stabbed over the shoulders of Sir Gilles and the others. The French could defend against one attack but not two and knights began to fall. A French knight led his retinue towards me. They came in wedge formation. There were just six of them at the fore but they would still have weight behind them. Thomas rammed the standard into the ground and took a spear so that he and Ralph could hold one over each of my shoulders. As I blocked the blow from the French sword the two of them jabbed their spears over my shoulder. One scored a hit on the side of the knight’s helmet while Ralph’s managed to stick his spear in the eye hole of the knight behind. I brought my sword up under the guard of the French knight. The blow to the helmet had distracted him. His own sword was already coming down towards my shield when the tip of my sword began to tear through the mail links of his hauberk. My two squires pulled back their spears for a second blow. Ralph’s was still caught in the helmet of the French knight and when it tore free the Frenchman lost his balance and fell backwards. As my sword worked its way into the body of the French knight Ralph and Thomas punched their spears again. The spears kept the French from closing too quickly with us and using their superior numbers.
I heard shouts and cheers from the right as the King and the Count of Caen led our horsemen into the French. Here the stakes helped us for they were facing the French and not our horses. Then there was the sound of battle being joined. We had our own battle for the French saw their chance to exploit the breach in our line. Padraig was fighting two men as was I. I had the advantage of two squires. He disabled one of his foes but the second managed to smash his mace against Padraig’s hand. He dropped his sword. His squire, Henry stepped forward and took on the knight. They fought as a pair. Padraig still had his left hand.
I faced two and one also had a mace. They had seen how Padraig had been hurt and they tried a similar tactic. The knight with the mace swung it backhand at my right hand while the other brought his sword from on high. When I had been training Wulfric had shown me how to use the long Norman shield offensively. I turned it from the vertical to the horizontal. I smashed it towards them and stepped forward. The mace glanced off my shoulder. It hurt but it did not disable me. I punched with the hilt at the helmet of the knight with the mace. Already stunned by my shield he reeled and I was able to swing my sword at his companion. He was slow to bring up his own sword and my blade bit into the mail at his shoulder. Ralph’s spear darted out and the knight with the mace was knocked to the ground. Thomas of Piercebridge bravely leapt into the gap and using the spear two handed, he drove it deep into the stomach of the knight. The scream as the spear entered his groin distracted the other knight enough for me to hit him in the face with my shield while I swung my sword at his knee. Chausse are never as strong as a hauberk and there was no gambeson beneath. I broke the mail and shattered the knee. He dropped to the ground.
“Yield or die! I care not which!”
“I yield! I yield!”
Ralph grabbed him and pulled him behind our lines. We had killed those before us and I looked for the next assault. It was then I saw King Henry rear his horse. Its flailing hooves crashed down onto the skull of a brave but hapless knight who was trying to skewer the King’s mount. As the knight fell the King slashed left and right. Our dismounted knights who had fallen back now rejoined the fight and I shouted, “Charge!” Thomas waved the standard and we ran at the French. We were still outnumbered but they had l
ost heavily and our charge decided the matter. They ran and we pursued.
We had little fighting to do for those we caught had often fallen or they were wounded. They yielded. There was little point in dying to a sword in the back! When we had lumbered for half a mile I shouted, “Halt!” The King and his horsemen were still pursuing the French towards Bourges. Enough of the French would make it within the walls to guarantee that we would have to besiege it but the King’s arrival had turned defeat into a small victory. We held the field and we had slain far more of them than we had lost.
We herded our prisoners, fifteen of them, back to our lines. A healer was already tending to Sir Padraig. My household knights had suffered minor wounds but we had lost none. Already my archers were searching the field for arrows and relieving the dead of their purses, their treasure and, if they were worth it, their weapons. That was what made this a victory. We had not lost the field. They had had superior numbers but we were stubborn and skilled enough to beat them. My father had trained us all well.
Chapter 8
It was dusk when the King and his knights returned. He had lost ten of the men who had set out with him but they brought back eighteen captured knights. He reined in as they neared the battlefield. His surcoat was blood spattered and I saw that his horse had been wounded. He shook his head, “I delayed too long at Vierzon. I am sorry Earl.” This was the first time I had heard the King apologise and I was taken aback. “You and the others held the line well. I am in your debt.”