“He’s right. From this point we could be goin’ for the West or the East March. We are well positioned for either way,” observed Robert.
“How do we know that this spy knows everything about what we’re fixed to do?” interceded Douglas.
“We don’t,” opined Robert.
The sixty year old Archibald who was also known by his English given name of ‘the Grim’ stood as best he could without hitting his head on the roof rafters of the lodge. The earl of Galloway liked his sobriquet for it seemed to match his dark complexion and course features masked partially by his long grey beard. He relished his reputation. “I’ve got dealin’s in Carlisle,” he said bluntly. “So that’s my intention!”
“This raid’s not bein’ called off ‘cause of this snivelin’ spy,” swore Robert. “Moreover they figure we’re headed for Northumberland… and we’re not!” He looked at James Douglas and gave a small victory smile.
Douglas frowned.
“Then what is the problem?” growled Archibald tightening his fists in frustration.
Sir William stood, “I’ll go with ye to Carlisle, Archibald.
“And I’ll be a’havin’ ye, son!” returned Archibald. William was not quite as large in frame as his father but had his same dark complexion. Fortunately he took more after his mother’s side on his facial features, that aside William was a fierce warrior that few volunteered to go against.
Suddenly Robert Stewart, who feared the Douglas family was taking his planned raid away from him, came to the center of the group and held both hands in the air shouting, “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Nobody here is backin’ off the raid!”
Archibald knew he had made a hopeless bid to rule the roost but did not care. “Carlisle is mine!” he bluntly and loudly stated.
Robert fumed under his brow. He did not like being manipulated but he was not about to let Archibald create a rift between the two families especially since James Douglas wanted to exercise his own plan. “A’right,” he agreed. “Ye and yers take Carlisle.”
Archibald returned to his bench having gained the political clout he wanted most.
William sat beside him to show solidarity.
Robert eased realizing he still owned the reins.
“I think we should not disappoint whoever is expectin’ or not expectin’ us,” announced James Douglas smugly.
Earl Robert again jumped to his feet. “What’s that meanin’?” he grumped.
“Means Northumberland is expectin’ us,” said Douglas, “and I don’t think he should be disappointed.
“Hotspur ye better mean,” retorted Robert.
“He is the warden of the East March, is he not?” answered James.
“Ye’re just wantin’ to see if ye can best him,” replied Robert.
“And I thought we wanted to punish the English to get the attention of King Richard,” said James sarcastically.
“I’ve not lost sight of our purpose,” barked Robert.
James Douglas looked at Robert Stewart for a half moment then delivered his say in deliberate measured words, “Nae, perhaps not the purpose but ‘tis on the point of the tactics to which ye will not bend, Milord.”
The hall became stone quiet. Each man letting the words sink in.
“I’ll take half the men and ye can take the other half,” James said pointing to Fife.
Fife laughed already knowing where the speech was headed. “Ye’ll not get command of my troops so readily.”
“But ye said yerself that it would be a fool’s errand to go east with only my portion of the gathered men.”
“Did ye not see here but a moment ago,” barked back Robert quickly, “it is I who hold the whip to this circle of men!”
“Archibald yon, is my cousin. My family. Will ye think yer whip will divide blood from blood?” he expressed pointing to the bench that held Archibald and William.
Robert glared at James from under dark brows. He did not like where James was going but concerned that there might be a war without moving his feet from the very spot where they then stood.
Douglas paused for a reflective moment then laid it out, “For the sake of King Robert the Bruce with whom our forefathers fought and died, this I will bargain… give me five hundred of yer men-at-arms with horse and I will go east attackin’ Durham and Newcastle and I will keep Northumberland and Hotspur from comin’ after ye while ye are a’raidin’ the west side.”
Secretly Robert agreed it was a good plan but he further bargained, “And a tenth of yer personal spoils, I would want.”
“And why would ye be askin’ for such?” said Douglas frowning.
“To come to yer rescue,” spoke Robert snidely.
“Rescue? Me? I durst think not!” said James standing as tall as he could.
“One tenth to insure yer arse from bein’ o’er run,” said Robert. “A message from ye would be all that would be required for us to come.”
Douglas’ blood boiled and he turned with a snarl, “Nay spoils!... Milord.” A pungent sense of pride and bravado was laced into his words. “Only to the king would I give a share!” He darted an eye to John the Stewart to show he recognized him as acting king despite his brother’s over bearing nature.
John nodded he understood.
Robert was infuriated and struck back saying, “Then nae yeomen from my ranks!” He sat back and smiled.
Douglas’ pride kept gnawing at him. He thought for a moment. He knew there would be some thousands of pounds of wealth to be garnered from a raid in the east and could not figure why Fife did not want to go in that direction unless his reason was to cater to Archibald to gain support then it was understandable.
“Seven hundred men-at-arms for the tenth,” goaded Robert to a higher level and sat back on the bench behind the table as if to say that was his last pawn to sacrifice.
Douglas knew if he wanted the Stewart’s blessings in the future he would have to give in… “I agree,” he snapped drawing his mouth to a scowl.
Robert Stewart, Earl of Fife, smiled. His counter offer and their mutual agreement set the stage for what was to come to pass.
August 9
The Forest of Jedburgh,
Scotland
The decision to split the army and move toward the East March of England simultaneously with the West March was made. It was also decided to leave as they had originally planned, at first light for fear of more spies in their midst who could get word to the English ahead of the Scot’s raid.
During the night the English spy’s throat was mysteriously sliced open by a very sharp blade. No one knew who did the deed and moreover no one cared. He remained tied to the tree where he had made his confession of being a spy for the Earl of Northumberland. That confession definitely caused the change in the course of the Scot’s already haphazard incursion.
It was before dawn when James Douglas mustered his two thousand five hundred men, lads and horses with an eye to a bright future. The number roughly amounted to about a fifth of the larger army.
Earl Robert had gotten an early start on his march west. Douglas, not wanting any lingering spies to tell his direction or composure organized his men as quickly as he could manage.
Douglas split his number into three contingents and each had a definite purpose. His first contingent was mounted and designed to move fast on the ground and strike like lightning. He and the earls Moray and March were to lead that contingent of almost one hundred knights, one hundred and sixty five esquires, and five hundred men-at-arms, and nearly four hundred archers.
His second contingent was also mounted and had thirty-three knights with esquires, more than one hundred archers and three hundred and fifty spearmen led by Sir John Swinton. Also there were many young lads carried ‘double’ on the backs of the warrior’s horses.
The third contingent led by a Midlothian knight, Sir Alexander Ramsey of Dalhousie, was twenty knights, six hundred spearmen and archers who went on foot. With the few camp followers and other servants mixed in
.
Generally Scottish soldiers were not nearly so well armed for battle as their English counterparts. About half of the men-at-arms had any chain mail at all but many had quilted jerkins with the interior stuffed with strips of linen cloth or tight twisted straw to abate sword blows. Their helms were usually of metal in a variety of designs. To identify themselves in the heat of battle they wore a rectangular patch of black or blue with two white strips of cloth stitched on indicating the Saint Andrew’s cross.
The knights usually had some variation of metal or hardened leather vambraces on their arms and chest armor covered by a surcoat. Others, particularly the higher nobles, had leg armor and gauntlets to cover their hands and fingers.
The three contingents knew their orders and set out from Southdean Kirk all at once moving south.
The Scot’s first contingent crossed the English border at the Redeswire well within the hour of their departure from the Kirk.
Douglas led his contingent south easterly over the Cheviot Hills through Redesdale passing Otterburn Village across the Ottercops Moss to Rothley Crags dropping down to Greenleighton and expecting to be in Durham in two hard days and meager nights of riding and without raiding a single farm, village or town along the way.
That was the plan of Sir James Douglas who had it in his mind far longer that the day it took to get the venture permitted by Earl Robert the Stewart and underway. He had finally found the right circumstances under which he could spring his well thought out strategy into a fully operational reality.
Conspicuously absent from any contingent or from either army was the Guardian of the Kingdom, Sir John the Stewart, who did for a fact return home to Carrick with forty of his household knights after feigning terrible trouble with his crippled leg. He also had no desire to stop by Dundonald to be additionally humiliated by his recluse father.
August 10 - Early Morning
Castle Warkworth,
Northumberland England
Warkworth Castle sat high on the southern bank of an acute loop of the River Coquet less than a mile from the shore of the eastern sea. It had been in existence in one generational form or another since the old Anglo-Saxon days. It was Earl Henry de Percy, First Earl of Northumberland, who had added the characteristic and imposing keep that overlooked the vicinity. The village hard to the south was the castle’s first line of defense to the only gate entering the bailey and castle.
Despite the coolness in the air the bright sun breaking from across the sea cast a warm glow over the already yellow ochre stones of which the castle was built.
Henry leaned against a merlon watching the sunrise through the space of a crenellation at the battlements of the Lion Tower. It was on that outer wall where his arms, emblazoned in bas-relief, was strongly displayed.
Henry was well satisfied with his building achievements that reflected masterfully in every part of his multifaceted life.
“Our spy’s not come,” said the earl’s twenty-four year old son known also as Henry but perhaps better known by his public persona as ‘Hotspur’ due much to his impetuous nature. His reputation as a warrior was famed far and wide.
“He was to tell us from which way the Scotch were a’comin’.”
“Give it time, Henry,” advised the father of forty-six.
“Last spy said there were thousands gathered across the border,” argued Hotspur. “You know they’re a’comin’ to Northumberland or somewhere this way!”
Henry turned quickly to look his son in the eyes, “I know nothin’ of the sort!”
“They’re comin’ to Durham and work their way back to their border,” retorted Hotspur. “They always go directly to Durham to show that they can get that far into England! It’s what the Bruce did those many years ago.”
“Durham ain’t ours to defend,” came back Henry.
“After they raid Durham it’s but a matter of time ere they’ll be in our country a’raidin’,” says I.
“What will you have me do, Henry?”
“I figure our spy was caught,” opined Hotspur. “I figure he was caught and they know what we know.”
“So, you reckon they’ll be a’comin’ or… changed their mind about it?”
Hotspur twitched his thinly bearded mouth a bit to think. “They’ll be a’comin’ a’right… just they’ll be tricky ‘bout it.”
“Tricky?” asked the earl.
“Unexpected… ‘twil be,” replied the son.
“And suppose they have their eye on Carlisle in the West March? That would be tricky, I reckon,” baited the earl as an alternative.
“Then my counter plan would be to invade southern Scotland,” said Hotspur, his one brow arched punctuating his clever statement. “They’d be a’runnin’ back from Cumberland fast to save their dearly got, high-hangin’, bacons.”
“Seems reasonable,” said the earl nodding. “And so how do we prepare for the unexpected?”
“You stay here in the castle,” started Hotspur, “I’ll take Ralph and a goodly part of the army to Newcastle where we’ll be closer to Durham and closer to Carlisle, too.”
Earl Henry looked at Hotspur for a long moment. He was proud of his oldest son who was young, brave and a national hero, who was already outsmarting an oncoming army of Scots.
“What do you think of that plan?” asked Hotspur anxiously awaiting approval.
“The Scotch are a wicked people, Henry,” said the earl turning to look seaward again. “Be very wary you don’t find yourself caught in your own web of trickery to their advantage.”
“Meanin’ what?” growled Hotspur.
“Meanin’ they could figure you would have an army in Newcastle and act on knowin’ that,” opined the earl. “With you and our army runnin’ hither and thither… south to north and south again it could easily happen.”
“Too much thinkin’. I don’t care,” growled Hotspur smacking his right fist into the palm of his left hand for emphasis, “We can still beat them!” His fist struck three more times as he imagined beating the Scots to pulp.
“Send out more spies… see where our enemy is and what they’re doin’. It will take the Scots days to get to Durham with their army the size reported by our spy,” advised the earl. “I can hold this citadel a’right with a small garrison but you will be exposed in the countryside and ripe for ambuscade.”
“I understand, father. One day, I want to teach spies how to better count figures.”
Earl Henry smiled at his son’s naivety. He should know spies are too stupid to learn numbers and that was why they were spies, he thought then he said, “Get your brother and hie for Newcastle this morn. When you get there send a message to the bishop in Durham, name’s Walter Skirlaw… just got put in there in April… and let him know about the Scotch a’headin’ his way… he ought to be able to raise a’plenty good army.”
“You know him?”
“He’s been around here and there,” said the earl, “I met him somewhere or ‘nother… I’m sure.”
“I reckon he knows your earldom at least,” replied Hotspur.
“Just send the damned message, Henry, and see if he sallies from his lock-hole with an army,” yelped Henry frowning. “You can do no more!”
Hotspur blinked in silence. He had a lot to learn but he did not yet know how much. He was rash and brave in the heat of battle but there were times when he lacked the political acumen or the rational thinking to deal with his peers and underlings.
Within the morning Hotspur left Warkworth with his younger brother Sir Ralph by his side and headed south to the walled town of Newcastle-upon-Tyne twenty-one miles from post to post to defend against whatever ‘wild’ Scots came his way in that region.
August 10 - Evening
Newcastle-upon-Tyne
It was coming to dark by the time Hotspur drew up to the walled city of Newcastle. He had sent a messenger ahead to inform the town mayor and burgesses of his intended arrival and that a great army of Scots was armed and sallying to their neighb
orhood with pillaging on their mind.
Newcastle was situated on the Tyne River and for many years was a thriving market and export center. Surrounding the multiple storied keep was a wall that was built during the reign of Edward I. It was two miles of twenty-five foot high stone seven feet thick with six main gateways, seventeen towers and many smaller turrets serving as lookout posts between the towers. The south wall fronted the river where an active quay was kept busy exporting many commodities among them being wool, millstones, dairy products, leather, lead, and coal.
At the center of the town was the great rectangular keep. Within its walls gathered the mayor, Adam Buckham, and the burgesses, the hierarchy of the East March including Sir Henry ‘Hotspur’ Percy and his brother Sir Ralph. Sir Matthew Redman, Governor of Berwick, Sir Robert Ogle, and Sir Ralph Lumley, seneschal of York all had hurried armies to Newcastle that day. They all were thankful for the opportunity to face the dragon and smite him gloriously.
Within the town walls the regular population of four thousand was pushed aside by the thousands of the newly-brought English troops who had been hastily gathered at Hotspur’s request. During the course of the day and into the night they came until there was little room to place them within doors. Some soldiers were necessarily left to the green areas of the town that they had to share with the many horses of the gathering army come to kill the marauding Scots. Fear and bravado were everywhere present as it manifested in an overall ambiance of excitement.
Hotspur threw a messenger’s pouch onto the table where the great lords of the realm had gathered for a war council. The pouch and shoulder strap turned as it slid across the smooth surface so that it slung the parchment contents out of its envelope and under the eyes of the lords and burgesses.
“‘Tis from our king,” spoke Hotspur as if he had the taste of poisoned food in his mouth.
Matthew was the first to reach for the folded message that had the broken red wax seal of Richard II impressed into it. He unfolded it and began to silently read.
“It says to wait!” groused Hotspur. “It says to wait for him and Arundel to arrive with more troops ere we go for the Scotch!”
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