He nodded, “Aye lord. We will hurry. I would like to catch these butchers of girls and old women.”
We were spurred on by the burned and devastated settlement. Wulfric said, “If they just wanted cattle and slaves they could have gone back without wasting time burning houses. They had to go out of their way to destroy the mill.”
“Perhaps they wanted the flour?”
Harold shook his head, “No, Tristan, the villagers do not keep milled flour. As soon as they have wheat, barley or oats, they grind it. The grain would have been at the farms. I agree with Wulfric. This is a punishment raid. The war is over and they are trying to hurt us while the Warlord is away.”
I turned, “They are that fearful of father?”
Dick nodded, “We have kept the patrols up and seen signs of scouts and spies. We should have realised. The Warlord will not be pleased at our lack of vigilance.”
I saw, from the looks on their faces, that they felt responsible. What could I have done with such warriors in the Holy Land?
The road passed between woods. There were fewer farms hereabouts. Their trail was clear for they had taken many animals. My father had managed to persuade the farmers to keep more animals over winter. The farmers had been rewarded by larger herds and flocks. The Scots were reaping the benefit. They had waited until the depths of winter when the days were short and there was darkness in which to hide. Had not Robert and his brother reached us as early as they did then the Scots might have had the darkness to hide them.
“They will head for the river crossing to the east of Cuneceastra. The river can be forded there. We have had little snow melt.”
“Aye Wulfric but it takes more time to ford the river. Will they not try Cuneceastra?”
“It is held by the Bishop of Durham’s men and there is a hall there. If they did not head to Durham then they will not risk Cuneceastra. The New Castle is but eight miles to the north of it.”
I looked at the sky. They would not make the New Castle before dark. The animals and the slaves would be tired. They would have travelled almost fifteen miles. Just then Aiden appeared, almost from nowhere.
“Lord, we have found them. They have camped north of the ford. Your African watches them.”
I smiled, “Masood is not an African, he is a Jew.”
“He is the blackest man I have seen. I will say this for him, he is as good a scout as I have seen.”
The sound of hooves behind us made me turn. It was the men who had buried the bodies. “Then take Edward and Edgar. Your horses are swifter than our war horses. We will approach quietly.”
Continuing north I said, “Dick, what say we use one of my father’s tricks. Take my archers and yours. Cross the bridge at Cuneceastra and get around the other side of them. I would have the captives saved.”
He smiled, “They say that an apple rarely falls far from its tree. You and your father have similar minds. Come archers, Sir William’s men, this will be an opportunity to see if you are the equal of my men!” They turned from our road and headed across country towards the Roman road which went like an arrow for the crossing of the river.
Without my scouts, we were almost blind. Dick and his archers had ridden before us. They were the masters at spotting an ambush. Sir Harold seemed to read my thoughts, “Do not worry, William. If Aiden said they are camped beyond the ford there will be no ambush. And I still have my ears and eyes.”
I had forgotten that Harold had grown up as an outlaw and an archer. My father’s first squire knew his way around the forests. The light was fading fast when Aiden appeared from the trees. I held up my hand and we stopped.
“Do they have guards?”
“They do lord. They have lords with them. They are not attired as you are. Yet they give orders and ride horses. They have shields with emblems on them.”
Wulfric asked, “How many are there?”
“There are six men on horses and they have fifty men on foot. Some have helmets and all have a weapon.” His voice hardened, “We heard screams.”
We had no time to waste. “Sir Wulfric prepare the men. Alf, tighten the girth on Alciades. Come Aiden and bring the other scouts.” We moved down the trail. I could smell the animal dung. Cows make a great deal and they had been moving slowly. Beyond the river I heard the sound of the camp. The animals were making noise and there was laughter and screams intermingled. They were confident and not hiding. The smell of animals being cooked drifted towards us. Masood rose from behind a bush and held up his hand, “No closer, lord. The river hides our noise here but any nearer?” He shook his head.
Through the gap in the trees I could see the black water. It was no more than twenty paces wide but I knew that it would be cold. “Could you four swim the river and use your knives to eliminate the sentries?”
Aiden said, “We could but your man?”
Masood gave a thin grin, “Do not worry, Englishman, I can swim as well as you and my knife has slain many of my lord’s enemies already.”
“Good. I will count to a thousand and then we will come. When the sentries are slain try to get to the captives. I would not have them harmed.”
I walked back to my knights and my men. “Alf, break out the spears and tie the sumpter to a tree. We swim the river and charge into their camp. I hope to surprise them. They are making much noise already.”
“Do we want prisoners?”
“We want the captives to be safe. A prisoner would be useful but it is not important.”
I mounted Alciades. In my head, I had been counting. I still had five hundred to go. Alf handed me my spear, “Stay close behind me.”
He nodded, “Will the river be cold?”
Wulfric heard him and laughed, “When you come out boy, your manhood will have hidden itself!”
I waved my hand and we walked down to the river. I did not want to make too much noise too soon. Once we reached the other bank there would be no option. I had not swum with Alciades before but, so far, he had never let me down. He stepped into the water. Once he lost the bottom I took my feet from the stirrups and laid flat along his back. Wulfric had been right. It felt as though I had been dropped into an icy bath. I kicked with my legs. Alciades was only swimming for a few paces and then his hooves found purchase. I wondered how many of the captives had survived the crossing. To their captors any losses would be seen as ridding themselves of the weak.
As Alciades scrambled up the bank I slipped my feet back into my stirrups and saw the dead sentry. Like many of the Scots, he was heavily tattooed. I pulled up shield and laid my spear across the cantle of my saddle. As I spurred Alciades I heard the rest of my knights and squires as they joined me. A cry from ahead told me that we had been spotted. Even as we galloped towards them I could hear orders being shouted. They would not run. Perhaps they did not know how many men they were facing.
A huge Scot wielding one of their long two-handed hammers raced at me. From his position and his gait, I deduced that he would hit my shield and hope to pulverise my arm. He did not know how agile and skilful my horse was. He was big but he had fast hooves. I whipped his head to the left and thrust with my spear as the Scotsman swung at fresh air. Even so the hammer missed Alciades nose by a hand span. With no armour to protect him the long, sharp head of my spear tore into him. I twisted as I did so and then pulled it back. A wriggling sea of guts spilled out. I allowed my arm to trail back so that his body slipped from the spear head. Pulling Alciades head around I looked for the lords on horses.
“Lord, watch out!”
Alf’s warning came just in the nick of time. The Scottish horsemen was very close and I managed to pull my shield up and block the blow just as the Scottish sword swung at head height. I was too close to make an effective thrust back at him and so I swung the long spear at the Scot’s head. He tried to duck but the haft of the spear rang against his head, making him unsteady. I dropped the spear and, continuing my turn, drew my sword. He had lost sight of me for his helmet had fallen slightly forward.
He had donned it in a hurry. He had quick reflexes and his shield, smaller than mine, came up just as I swung at him. Alciades now came into his own. He was a war horse. The Scot was riding a palfrey. Instinctively Alciades tried to bite the smaller horse of the Scot. Naturally it jerked away and I was able to swing my sword backhand as he tried to control his horse. My blade bit through his back and I felt it grate on his backbone. His back arced and he fell from his saddle.
Four Scots ran towards me shouting curses. I suspect I had killed their mormaer. Two of them suddenly pitched forward with arrows in their backs. A warrior darted alongside me and Alf thrust his spear into the screaming mouth of one of them. The other tripped over his companion’s body. There was a sickening crunch as Alciades hoof smashed into his skull.
Suddenly the survivors threw their weapons down and held up their arms. I saw why. There was a ring of archers behind them. Their chance to flee had gone. With their four lords dead, there was little point in fighting on. I turned and shouted, “Thank you Alf. Did we suffer wounds?”
He shook his head, “Not that I could see.” He picked up the banner which lay by the side of the dead lord and handed it to me.
“Then God has smiled on us. Let us pray that the captives have survived their ordeal.”
Chapter 4
There were just six Scots left without wounds. I saw my men at arms going around the wounded with Brother Peter. When he shook his head, they gave the wounded man a warrior’s death. Others he tended to. I dismounted and took a handful of grain from my saddlebag. It was from the alehouse and was the remains of the brew. Alciades loved it. He nodded his head as he ate. “You deserve this my friend.”
I saw Dick and his archers. They were gathered around the captives. I saw that there were four old men, fifteen women of varying ages and ten children. That seemed a lot for such a small place as Fissebourne. I took off my helmet, “I am Sir William of Stockton, the son of the Warlord. Henry and his sons found us. I am sorry that you had to suffer this ordeal. We will make the Scots pay for this.”
One woman, she looked to be twenty or so summers said, “Aye lord, and we thank you but that will not bring back our husbands, will it? Who will look after us?”
I saw Wulfric giving me a sideways look. He was comparing me with my father. This was an easy decision. I had heard my father utter these words more times than enough. “You will come to Stockton. None will have to return to Fissebourne who do not wish to. You are young enough to start new families and we have men who seek wives. We will camp here tonight and head back to Stockton in the morning.”
An old man said, “I am not certain that I will survive another dousing lord.”
“Fear not, we go back along the road.”
Wulfric came next to me, “You will do, William. I can see that you grew up while in that heathen land.”
“Meaning I was a pretty poor wretch before then?”
Wulfric was honest and many a man would have lied but not him, “If I am to speak true then I would say that you were. Whoring and carousing are not the acts of a married man. You have atoned and are the better for it.” He leaned in close to me, “But if you hurt that wife of yours, young William, you will have me to answer to.”
“You need not fear. My eyes became clear in the desert.”
We discovered that most of the animals had survived. That meant a long slow journey back home. Part of me wanted to head further north and make a reprisal raid on the Scots. Then I realised that would be the old William. I saw that the prisoners, wounded and fit alike, were being guarded by Ralph of Nottingham and my father’s men at arms. Six of the wounded had survived. They varied in age from boys of eleven summers to two greybeards. Brother Peter was just applying a bandage to one of the greybeards when I approached. “Where are you from?” The one with a bandage nodded north. “I know that. Answer me civilly or the others will watch me undo Brother Peter’s work. You raided English families. You killed them an abused their women. Will they go to heaven, Brother Peter?”
“Not until they have confessed their sins to me and received absolution.”
“As you see, your souls are in my hands.” I saw hands going to wooden crucifixes.
“Berwick.”
Berwick on Tweed was close to Norham. That had once been the northernmost bastion of England. They had come a long way. “Why raid down here?”
He shrugged, “We have had a bad winter. A man grows tired of fish. This was the closest we could get to England.” He smiled and I saw that he had lost teeth in the battle, “All the rest is now Scotland.”
Ralph of Nottingham drew his dagger, “Not for long! Now that King Henry is back we will retake it.”
I put my hand on Ralph’s arm. “There will be time for that later. And the lords we slew? Was one your mormaer?”
“Aye, his father will be angry that you have killed his two sons. He will seek revenge.”
“Then he knows where to come. Or perhaps we will visit him.”
The old man pointed north. “The land to the north is filling up with Scots. We are taking it back and cleansing it of you English.”
Sir Wulfric had wandered over, “Kill the old bastard. He is more trouble than he is worth.”
“It may come to that but we will take them home and let my father decide. This land is subject to his justice.”
The next morning, we rose early and headed south. We made the Scots drive the animals behind us. Dick and his archers rode behind them. When we reached Cuneceastra we halted to rest the captives and to speak with the commander of the Bishop’s garrison. He was a sergeant at arms. The garrison had but ten men and I suspect they were there to guard the valuables in the church rather than the tiny collection of huts, houses and farms.
He bowed when he saw my banner. He could do little else for we outnumbered his men many times over. “What is your name?”
“Richard of Elsdon, lord.”
“Who is the Bishop these days?”
“That would-be Hugh de Puiset, lord.”
The name seemed familiar, “Thomas, de Puiset do we know him?”
My knight nodded, “There was a family of that name related to Stephen of Blois.”
Of course. He was the nephew of King Stephen and, more importantly, Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester. This made sense and explained why the Scots had not tried to use the Durham Road. The Bishop was in a parlous position.
“I am Sir William of Stockton, the son of the Warlord and I am recently returned from the Holy Land. I would have you send one of your men and tell him that we have tracked Scottish cattle thieves and murderers who entered the Palatinate. I would remind him of his duty. He is here to guard the northern borders of my father’s land. I would hate to have to come to Durham to remind him.”
“Of course, my lord.” He looked around nervously. “May I speak in private with you?”
I was intrigued. I had met assassins before but this rather portly man did not seem to pose a threat. We walked away from the others and I sat on the wall which ran alongside the graveyard. “You have my attention.”
“Lord, did you live at Aqua Bella?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stuck up. How did he know that name? I had not mentioned it. “I did. Where did you hear it?”
“Seven days since, I was collecting some holy relics for the Bishop at Jaruum. A ship landed there and a monster of a Viking got off. He asked how he could get to Stockton. He said he had a message for the Warlord from William of Aqua Bella.”
That was Ralph of Bowness. “What happened to him?”
“Well, my lord, I told him where Stockton was but then a Scot, Mormaer Alexander Keith, visiting from the north, brought his soldiers and had him taken away. He must have overheard him ask for you. He had a loud voice.”
“He went peacefully with them?”
“No lord. He laid out four with his fists until he was hit on the head with a hammer.”
“Tell me, how did you escape?”
&nb
sp; “We were under the protection of the Bishop, lord. The Scots do not like us but they fear the church.”
“And do you know where this Mormaer lives?”
“He has been given the manor of Warkworth, lord. It is said he is building a castle there.”
I took a gold piece and gave it to the man. “This is for the information and for your silence.”
“Silence, lord?”
“Tell no one else of this.”
“Of course, lord.”
When I returned to my men I saw that they were intrigued. I waved Wulfric and my knights over. “I have just discovered that Ralph of Bowness has been taken prisoner and is being held north of the Tyne.”
Wulfric frowned, “Ralph of Bowness?”
“Let us say that I sent him on the errand which had him captured. I am honour bound to rescue him.”
“North of the wall?”
“Aye Tristan. I ask no man to follow me save my own men and those of Sir Thomas. We owe much to Ralph of Bowness.”
Wulfric said, “We will all come.”
“That you cannot and for two good reasons: firstly, we need to get these people home and secondly, you have to protect the valley until my father returns. You have families.”
“As do you!”
“And you, Wulfric, will protect my family.”
Dick said, “We will come with you. We know the land there. Sir Thomas is the son of one of our own. If he goes then we go.” I looked at him. He laughed, “William there will be no argument! I swore an oath to protect you when you were a child. I will do so again. Wulfric does not need us to watch the captives and drive the animals.”
And so it was decided. We took the spare horses and supplies and we turned around and recrossed the bridge to cross the Wear. My wife would understand; or so I prayed.
Masood did not know the land but he had good senses. I conferred with Dick and we decided to send him ahead with Aelric. Aelric was the most experienced of Dick’s archers. After we had crossed the river we headed north and west. “We should cross the Tyne by the old Roman bridge to the west of Hexham. Sir Hugh had a fort there and the Scots will have made sure that they keep a good watch over the bridge.”
The Welsh Marches (The Anarchy 1120-1180 Book 15) Page 5