by Griff Hosker
I was shocked that the King could even consider peace talks. “Peace, King Henry? Percy and his uncle are rebels and traitors! You do not negotiate with them!”
He laughed, “Ever telling a King what he may and may not do. His father, the Earl of Northumberland is bringing men from the north even as we speak. Glendower has had his nose bloodied but he may march to aid Hotspur. The men I have are all that there is. I am not certain that we can beat them for they have a greater number of archers.”
“We can beat them, King Henry, give us a chance.”
He looked at his son, “And those were the exact words my son used. We may well have to fight but we try peace first. We leave at dawn towards the Whitchurch Road. The abbots of Haughmond and Shrewsbury will ride to the rebels and negotiate with them. I have asked them to discover what are the grievances and demands of the rebels.”
“Surely you do not give in to demands?” I shook my head and remembered a brave young King Richard, younger than Henry was now, facing down Wat Tyler and his mob. He had not given in to demands. I did not mention that. His son also had affection for the dead King.
“Do not lecture me. That is not the reason I summoned you!” His face was angry; no doubt he had remembered King Richard and Wat Tyler. I saw Prince Henry shake his head. He would be a different king from his father. “If we have to fight tomorrow then you and your knights will be in the centre with me. My son will lead the left and the Earl of Stafford the right.”
I was torn for as much as I wished to fight with my son, I wanted to be there to protect England’s hope, Prince Henry!
“I also wish you to act in the role you performed so admirably for my cousin. I wish you to be my bodyguard.” He nodded and Sir Walter handed me a surcoat. “Tomorrow, you will wear my spare surcoat. I have another knight, Sir James of Stockton, who will also wear my surcoat. If we have to fight then I wish to confuse my enemies.” He smiled, “I understand that Sir James has done well in tourneys and none can best you in battle. It would be better if you wore a boar’s snout helmet too!”
I shook my head, “I will happily play the King but I fight in my own helmet.”
The King nodded, “So long as you fight to protect the royal person then I am happy. The number of archers which Percy commands means that we fight on foot. Have your squire use one of my shields.” He smiled, “Hopefully, we will be able to negotiate a peace and you will not have to draw a sword.”
I shook my head, “Hotspur will fight. You can put money on that, King Henry!”
The Prince left with me, “I confess Sir William, that I would have you at my side if I could but this may be for the best. There is much anger in the Percys. They will wish blood. We both know that arrows do not choose their victims. They cannot ask for ransom. Tomorrow will either be peaceful or a bloody day. I pray you to take care and live. If God allows me to live and to become King of England then I will need you by my side.”
When I told my knights of the King’s decision, they were angry both with the negotiations and the deception. Sir John said, “He expects Hotspur to try to kill the King! You will find the best of his knights trying to slay you!”
I nodded, “If that is my lot then so be it but you will not need to risk your lives.”
Sir Roger snorted, “Lord, I have spent half of my life fighting for you! No matter what surcoat you wear I will be protecting your back!”
My men chorused their agreement. I felt proud although I also felt dread. This could be the end of my family for despite my words I knew that Hotspur was a good general and even if we won there would be many good men who would die. After I had prayed that night and as I lay in my cot, I reflected that this could be my last night on earth. I would not see my new grandson and then I took heart. This would not be the end of my family! I had two grandsons. Even if Thomas and Harry died along with me my title was hereditary and Henry would inherit it! For some reason that made sleep come a little easier.
We left early in the morning and set up our baggage camp just half a mile north of Harlescott. It felt strange to be wearing a royal surcoat. I had a cloak about the surcoat so that I was hidden from the eyes of the enemy. Harry took Hawk to the baggage camp. I had left most of my valuables in Shrewsbury and did not have to use the tents erected for the purpose. The churchmen and their escorts left for Hotspur’s camp which was to the north of us. We were negotiating but we arrayed for war. Hotspur had set up his lines beyond the range of bows. Our archers would face the rebel archers. Prince Henry commanded our left and the Earl of Stafford our right. The two abbots returned and told the King that Hotspur was aggrieved that he had taken the crown illegally and that it should have gone to the son of the Earl of March. He also claimed that the King had sworn before he was crowned that he had no intention of claiming the throne. The letter the King had sent was also cited as a cause for the rebellion.
I was close to the King when he gave his reply, “My lords, ride back to Sir Henry and tell him that if he sends someone to negotiate, I will try to answer these charges for I am loath to spill English blood this close to Wales.”
The King was hopeful about the outcome and he laughed and joked with us while we awaited the return of his emissary. “We can settle this amicably and then head for the Tywi valley where Lord Carew has just defeated seven hundred Welshmen. This day may see the start of a time of peace in the realm.”
I knew when the emissary arrived that a battle was inevitable. It was Thomas Percy, the Earl of Worcester who came to deliver the rebels’ answer. His face showed the enmity he felt towards the King as he listened to the King’s answer to the charges the rebels had laid. “I will return to London and summon Parliament. We will ask Parliament if I have the right to be King. If they decide against me then I will abdicate in favour of whichever man they choose to take the crown. As for the ransoms then, to save bloodshed, I will allow Sir Henry to collect the ransoms from the Scots although, as I see the banner of the Earl of Douglas on the field, I think that there will be no ransom.”
Sir Thomas stood and said, “I will deliver your words!”
He was away so long that I thought we might have to camp a second night. Eventually, Thomas Knayton and Roger Salvayn, two of Hotspur’s esquires brought us his answer. “Sir Henry rejects your proposals for you lied to get the crown. You are perjured and false. Prepare to die at Sir Henry’s hands!”
All of us were shocked at the answer Hotspur had sent for King Henry’s words had been most reasonable. The reason for the battle appeared to be the past and I wondered why they had bothered to negotiate. We later learned that Sir Thomas had lied to his nephew. That lie cost almost four thousand men their lives. The King nodded, “Go to your battles. We fight this day!”
I looked west to the setting sun. We had just two hours before dark. We might be fighting at night and that was a hard thing to do when you were fighting your countrymen. I took off my cloak as Sir Walter gave the signal for us to move up. Once we were in range of arrows then the killing would begin on both sides. I turned to my sons and my knights. I held my hand out and each of them laid their right hand on top, “May God be with us and I pray that when this day is done, we are all here to meet again. If today is my turn to die then it has been a privilege and an honour to fight alongside each of you, your squires and your men!”
None wore helmets yet and I saw that each of them was too full to speak so they nodded. Sir Roger and Sir Wilfred had fought with me since I had served King Richard. Sir John had been my squire and my sons were dearer to me than my own life. We moved to the north. Our men at arms followed us. Captain Edgar was behind us but Captain Alan was with the other archers.
Bizarrely there was no formal command to fight. As soon as the archers were within bowshot they loosed as did the men of Cheshire. Harry had one of the King’s shields and he held it before us. Arrows rattled and smacked off it. Some hit my arms and my helmet but did no harm for I had plate and the arrows, in the main, were war arrows and then men began
to die. I saw our archers’ ranks thinned. I knew that the archers of Cheshire would also be suffering but some of those who were dying were my men. Both sets of archers were the best at what they did and they fought without even thinking about fleeing. Both sides began the battle with more than four thousand archers. Forty thousand arrows descending from the sky would kill and wound many men and kill they did. I was ten men from the King and Sir James of Stockton was ten men the other side of him. I was close enough, therefore, to hear the news when it was delivered to him, “Your Majesty, your son has been struck in the head by an arrow!” The King nodded. I could not see his face for he wore a boar’s snout basinet but I think he would have been upset and it might have sucked the heart from him.
More men fell and then I heard a wail. “The right has broken!” I turned and saw that the men on the right of us, under the command of the Earl of Stafford, had suffered many casualties and could bear no more. They ran. When Sir Edmund, the Earl of Stafford and his knights joined us I knew that disaster had struck us. With the Prince dead or out of the battle at least and our right wing in tatters then Percy could focus all of his attention on us. I heard his horns sound as he led his men to attack. The arrow storm would end and the butchery begin.
With Sir George and the Earl of Stafford close by the King he had the greatest knights in the land to protect him but it soon became obvious that he would be the focus of the rebel attack. Night would fall soon and having come so close to victory Hotspur and Douglas would want the battle ended before the King could escape. Although the arrow storm had ended, Cheshire archers still advanced with the knights and esquires. The arrows would be more deadly for they would be sent horizontally and with a bodkin tip could force their way into the visor of a helmet. I was a rarity. I used a sword and dagger while the rest used longer weapons such as pikes and poleaxes. Perhaps I was a relic of the past but it was the way I had been taught to fight and I felt more comfortable with a sword in my hand. My open helmet helped me too. It put me at risk of an arrow but allowed me better judgement to deflect pole weapons.
As soon as our flank was unprotected then Hotspur and his men ran at us. Already men were falling before us. The rebels were desperate to get to the King. I saw Hotspur as he hacked his way towards Sir James of Stockton. Now the winner of many tournaments would be tested for Henry Percy was a killer. I had to force my attention to the battle before me. I could not see the knights behind me but I had the King, Sir Walter, Sir George and Sir Robert Gousehill to my right. Between us were half a dozen knights I did not know save that they were young and keen to protect the King.
A half a dozen men launched themselves at me. A knight led his men at arms to garner the glory of killing the King. It was my son, Thomas, who took on the knight. We later learned that it was Harold’s tormentor, Richard de Ros and behind him came a man I recognised. It was Jean de Caen, the many who had almost ruined Gilles’ life. The mercenary recognised me and began to shout, “This is not the…”
He got no further for I could not allow the deception to be revealed. I shouted, “Killer of women! Today you pay for your crimes!”
The man had a double-handed axe and he swung it at me. He knew I was old and perhaps he thought I would be slow. I moved too quickly for him and I stepped inside the swing so that we were face to face and only the haft hit my arm. I slid my sword into his surcoat and it found the bottom of his breastplate. I sliced the sword through the mail and saw his mouth widen in pain. I stabbed upwards with my dagger and managed to find a gap so that the bodkin tip of the dagger went through his mail and into his elbow. He was hurt but he could still shout and reveal that I was not the King. I pulled my sword and pushed it up between our two bodies. He dropped his axe and grabbed the sword with his left hand for I had hurt his right arm. He was a strong man and he tried to stop the blade. I found a strength from I know not where and when the tip found his coif, I saw his eyes widen and he shook his head. I rammed it upwards and it went through his lower jaw and into his skull. I saw the light leave his eyes and when I stepped back, his body slid from my sword.
I saw that Thomas had despatched the knight he had been fighting and I shouted, “Back in line!” Sir Roger and Sir Wilfred had also moved forward and now they rejoined me.
It was Sir Archibald Douglas and his men who next came at me. The canny Scot allowed his younger knights to come at me and my men first. I saw a long spear, held by a young knight, hurtling towards my face. The young Scottish lord thought he had the King. I could see, for he had an open helmet, his mouth forming the cry of victory. It was premature. I flicked the head of the spear to slice through the borrowed surcoat as I brought my sword down on the weak part of his armour between his shoulder and his helmet. It broke the links, ripped through the jupon and then sliced through muscle, sinew, tendons and arteries. His head was shaking as he tried to lift an arm which would not obey his orders. He fell at my feet.
I had no time for self-congratulation for as Sir Archibald hacked into Sir Walter Blount, a second Scottish knight swung his poleaxe at my head. It was a powerful blow and neither my sword nor my dagger would slow it. I did the unexpected and dropped to my right knee. As the axe head slid over my head to hit my backplate I lunged upwards with my dagger. The bodkin tip tore through the mail and into his thigh. He too dropped to a knee and as I rose, I brought my sword down on his helmet. He still did not fall and I rammed my dagger through the eyehole of his visor. He still refused to die and so I swung my sword hard at the side of his head. This time he fell but, to make certain he was dead I placed my sword on his throat and put all of my weight on it.
A voice from behind warned me of danger. Sir Roger shouted, “Lord, ware right!”
I barely had time to block the blow from the pike which was thrust at my side. Sir Roger brought his war axe down on the man’s head but the Earl Douglas took advantage of Sir Roger’s distraction and hacked his poleaxe into his neck. As my knight and former captain of my sergeants died, a red mist descended over my eyes. I brought my sword around so hard into the side of the Earl of Douglas’ surcoat covered plate armour that I severed the leather straps holding it. As the plate began to come apart, I smashed my sword into the side of his head. He was stunned and he dropped his poleaxe and fell to his knees. I saw nothing but my dead knight and I raised my sword to end his life. He lifted his visor and shouted, “Quarter! Quarter! I yield!”
It was the King who saved his life. Even though King Henry was fighting for his life he still had the wit to shout, “Sir William! He has yielded!”
I nodded and it was in that instant that Hotspur slew Sir James of Stockton and, as he fell, a cry rang out, “The King is dead!”
The King did not answer and so I shouted, “The King lives! The King lives!” Harry grabbed the Earl and pulled him behind us. It was brave for others around the Earl had yet to surrender.
Hotspur saw not me but my surcoat and he tried to get at me. Sir George Dunbarre pulled the King away to safety. I heard him shout, “Come, Your Majesty! You must not be taken!”
We were losing the battle and we had to hang on until dark when night’s cloak would enable us to slip away. Until then we had to fight for our lives and I would be facing the most feared knight in England, Henry Percy. I was tired and I was much older than he was. It would be a foregone conclusion that he would win but I had to buy time for Sir George to get the King to safety.
Arrows still flew. One clanged off my armour and then I saw a second hit the Earl of Stafford full in the face as he raised his visor to see better in the increasingly gloomy twilight. He fell and lay still. Another brave knight had perished.
Sir Walter Blount was losing his battle with Hotspur. Sir Henry had already hacked into Sir Walter’s body three or four times and his last blow ended the matter. His pole axe found the gap between plate and helmet. As he died his grip on the standard slipped and the standard began to fall. If it fell then the remnants of our army would flee. My son, Thomas, ran forward and caught it
before it fell. Hotspur raised his bloody poleaxe to end my son’s life.
“No!” I threw myself between the poleaxe and Thomas. I was able to use my sword to block the haft of the axe. Thomas pulled the standard behind me.
Sir Henry shouted, “I have you!” Then he looked into my face and shouted, “Deceit! You are not the King!”
He was so shocked that I was able to swing my sword into his side. All of my anger, as well as the fear of losing my son, went into the strike and he reeled. I had not broken the skin but I hoped to have cracked a rib or two. I went into the offensive and brought over my sword to hit his head. He managed, somehow, to block the blow but he was on the back foot and I kept driving him backwards. It was a confused mêlée all around us. No quarter was sought or given. My son was, for the time being, safe. He had followed the King with the standard but once I died then Sir Henry would pursue him. I had to keep going as long as I could and pray that darkness came to save us.
Sir Henry had experience and to buy himself time to recover his balance he swung the end of his poleaxe at my legs. I jumped in the air but landed awkwardly on the leg of the body of Sir Walter Blount. I almost toppled and Sir Henry jabbed at me with the spike at the top of the poleaxe. It came for my eye. My reactions saved me and I flicked up my dagger to divert the spike which merely scraped along the side of my helmet. I regained my balance, as did Hotspur. My first blow must have cracked a rib for I could hear his laboured breathing. He lifted the visor on his helmet and I took advantage for he held his pole axe with one hand. I hacked into his side again. This time it was the opposite side and I saw his face as it contorted. I had hurt him.
I was aware, to my left, of a cheer and a cry of, “Prince Harry! Prince Harry!” Was it possible that he was alive? I had hope once more and often that can make all the difference. I prayed that Sir George had taken the King to safety. We could always find more men and fight another time.