in the neighbourhood of York again, and joined by his doleful cousin
John of Brittany, Earl of Richmond, with a new English army from the
south, the Scots had turned eastwards through the Pennine passes,
warily-for here they could, indeed should have been ambushed. But they
encountered no opposition, and proceeding down Wensleydale towards the
lowlands of Swale and Ouse, they saw once again the familiar sight of
burning towns, villages and farmsteads in the plain below, and
recognised that Douglas was there before them. So presently summoned
from blazing Northallerton, the now saturnine Sir James came cantering up to meet his liege lord on the Hill of the Standard, their first encounter in eight months.
Jamie, Jamie-what an executioner, what a brand of destruction, I have made of the gentle chivalrous youth once I knighted! Bruce said, clasping the other to him.
Wherever I go, I hear tell of you. Every prisoner brought before me whispers dread of the Black Douglas! My courtly friend has become the very Angel of Death!
Only to the Kings enemies, the younger man said.
And until such time as these proud and stubborn English acknowledge your kingship, and my right to be ruled by none other.
Aye. It is eight long years since Bannockburn, and still they will not learn their lesson. Nor ever will while Edward lives, I think.
Strange that so weak a man should, in this, be as obstinate as was his strong father. So different, yet both equally blinded with hatred and the lust to dominate other than their own. When they have so much. To the terrible cost of their own, as well as of ourselves.
Sombrely, Bruce looked around him at the fair but burning plain of Swale.
Harcla, Sire? What word of Harcla?
None. He has not emerged from Carlisle. He is holed up in that fortress like a fox in a cairn. Thomas, here, thinks that he sulks.
That Edward preferred the Despensers to command the Scots venture, rather than himself. He now will teach his silly liege a lesson!
He is a strange man, Moray said.
Able, but no more to be trusted by friend than by foe.
So I have sent him a message, the King went on.
Offering my lord of Carlisle … an accommodation. To Thomass much disapproval!
I
say that there is no good to come of dealing with traitors, his nephew averred.
He was Lancasters feudal vassal, yet betrayed him. Effected his death. Now he withholds his service from his king. Why should you trust him?
I do not. I would but inst il in his treacherous but nimble mind that it might pay him better not to offend both the King of Scots and the King of England at the same time! So that he does not seek to interpose his Cumberland army between us and Scotland. For such accommodation I am prepared to treat even with such traitor.
You are still too nice, Thomas-after all these years and bloodshed.
Unlike Jamie here, who has learned my lesson all too well! Praise your God that you are not King!
I do, Sire-I do!
So speaks Saint Thomas! Douglas laughed, but affectionately.
Praise, I say, the other saints that his niceness does not extend to his sword-hand! I have missed you of late, friend.
Moray nodded in stiff embarrassment, and found no words.
Bruce looked from one to the other of his two most brilliant captains, and most valued lieutenants.
What news have you for me of Edward, Jamie? he asked.
And this of John of Brittany, that soured fish! Where are they?
Yonder, Sire! Douglas pointed south by east.
Not far off. I have kept on King Edwards heels ever since Melrose. Never more than a score of miles behind him and his rabble. We are less than that, here. They say he bides at Rievaulx Abbey. Just behind those Hambleton Hills. Beyond the plain. Fifteen miles.
A-a-ah! Bruce gazed narrow-eyed at the smoke-hazed line of low green hills.
So near? Only two hours riding. Edward Plantagenet so near. He looked thoughtful.
Aye, Sire-but Richmond is in the way. The Lord John of Brittany. He occupies a strong position on the hill ridge.
How many?
His own force, some 20,000. The remainder of the Kings army-who knows? And local levies …
But not all up on this ridge?
No. Richmond holds the ridge, watching us. Or watching me hitherto. He has sat up there these three days, and seen me burn this Vale of Mowbray. Not ventured down, although many times my numbers. Therefore, I think, he but holds a line, behind which King Edward may rebuild his broken host. At Rievaulx in the Rye valley. He is but giving the King time.
Can we turn his flank? Richmonds? Reach the Kings horde behind.
Without taking the ridge. I do not know this country.
I think not. Northwards, these Hambleton Hills run into the Cleveland Hills. Where I campaigned before Boroughbridge. No route through for an army. South are more hills, to Ampleforth.
Not high, but steep escarpments, easily defended. Between, there is but the one gap, by Scawton and Helmsley, to the Rye. But my scouts declare it strongly defended.
Mmm. We are well used to mightier hills than these.
We have thousands of Highlandmen. It ought not to be so difficult
..
What would you, Sire? Moray asked.
A battle? Or just a stratagem?
I never fight battles, Thomas, unless I must If we can gain our ends
without a battle, that is best. Edward Plantagenet is but a few miles away. It is not likely that he, nor Richmond, yet knows that I am here. Jamie, yes-but not ourselves. If we struck swiftly, we might surprise Edward. Who knows, even capture him!
Capture the King!
It might be the quickest way to win our peace-treaty!
God in heaven-heres a ploy! Douglas cried.
Could we do it, Sire?
Who knows? But we could try. Only, it would have to be done swiftly. Today. By tomorrows dawn Edward will know that there is more than Douglas on his heels. He will flee southwards, I swear.
We have but four hours of light-and, not knowing the country, we cannot here fight well in the dark. Bruce was peering across the three-mile-wide Vale of Mowbray, south-eastwards.
Is that not a break in the escarpment? Yonder, south of that
village.
Beyond the knoll. A stream comes down there, for a wager. From the high ground.
I see it, yes, Douglas nodded.
It drives up towards the ridge.
Shallowy. A steep, dead-end valley, Id say. You think … ?
It is wooded in the lower parts, Id say. A plague on all your smoke, Jamie! I cannot see clear.
As neither can Richmond see clearly over here, Sire! To perceive your coming.
True. How far north of your gap through to Rievaulx is this break? This corrie? How far north of the defended pass by the place you named?
The Scawton Moor and Helmsley gap. But a couple of miles, Id say.
Less, it may be.
Good. Richmond, then, sits up on the ridge facing us, with this Scawton gap on his left. If an attack was mounted up the smaller valley, the corrie, directly on to his escarpment-what would be the result?
Massacre, Id say, for the attackers! Walter Stewart put in from behind, grimly.
Only if the attack was pressed home. To the end.
Ah! A diversion only? Douglas said.
More than that. A true attack. But in stages. And for special purpose. What result, I say? If Richmond believed it the main, the only attack?
I* faith-I see! He would withdraw his men out of the Scawton gap, to aid him and protect his flanks. I see it…
Only if he beli
eved his flanks threatened, Moray interposed.
And if he was sure that there would be no secondary assault, through the gap. By a larger force.
As you say, Thomas. But if he does not know that there is a larger force-my force-in this vale? And Douglas, whom he knows of, attacks with his full strength up this corrie? And nimble Highlandmen climb both flanks of the corrie, north and south?
And are seen so to do. What then?
It might serve …
There looks to be much woodland over there. If my main force was hidden in those woods. With scouts out to watch the Scawton gap. Then, if Richmond withdraws his people from it, I rush down and through with my cavalry, we are into the Rye valley behind him, cutting him off from the king. And Rievaulx is at our mercy.
Sweet Mary-Mother- a joy! A delight! Douglas slapped his thigh.
Scarce a joy for you, in that shallow valley, under Richmonds nose! Acting bait for this trap. And only possible if Richmond does not know Your Grace is here, the cautious Moray pointed out.
How can we cross an army to the shelter of those woods, over the open plain, without being seen? Which would ruin all.
Jamie has already shown us. His smoke. Even now it obscures the view. It is a west wind. If there was greatly more smoke, if Jamie set his torch men to fire everything that would burn down there, all along the vale-hay, straw, reeds, thatch, brush, scrub-then this would roll towards Richmonds escarpment, to the east, and he would see nothing of what went on below. If done skilfully.
He would guess that an attack was being mounted …
To be sure. But it would be Douglass attack. And when Douglas appeared indeed in this corrie below him, it would all fit well enough. He would have no reason to fear that another and much larger host was still lying below, in the woodland.
Moray had to admit that this was so.
Now, then. Time is our enemy, Bruce declared.
Only four or five short hours, to do so much. But tomorrow it will be too late. I fear we will be fighting in the dark, this night. You have it, Jamie?
Yours is the heavy weight of this task. You can have so many more men as you need. Richmond may charge down on you. It may be sore fighting, there in the bed of the corrie-although then, the Highlandmen on the heights could come down on his flanks. Are you content?
Content, Douglas nodded.
It is a ploy after my own heart. Save that it will not be I who
rides to capture King Edward! That I would wish to see.
That we none of us may see. Now-to work. The fires first…
Sire-you do not need me, in this, Moray said.
Your permission, I pray, to ride with Sir James?
The King looked quizzically at his nephew.
You consider his to be the dangerous part, and needs must share it?
The other shrugged.
I am like to see more fighting with him than with Your Grace, I
think!
Wryly Bruce grimaced.
How true, Thomas-if scarce your most courtly speech! Go, lad-go,
both of you. With my blessing. I will see you, I hope, at Rievaulx
Two hours later Bruce stood within the shelter of the last of the
trees, and gazed eastwards, upwards, blinking away tears from
smoke-reddened eyes. Visibility was still not good-although the billowing smoke-clouds had thinned greatly now-and the smarting did not help. All around him men were sniffing and coughing, and horses snorting and blowing through inflamed nostrils.
The viewpoint was as good as any they would get; yet it was markedly inadequate to see what went on up in the upper corrie of that southern spur of the Hambleton Hills. Indeed the King could see only the tail-end of Douglass force disappearing, for this hanging valley of the escarpment mounted in steps, and from his lowly position in the wide skirts of it, he could not see into the upper section. Though above and beyond it, the ridge itself was clear enough-or as clear as the smoke-haze allowed. Wide as it was down here, half a mile at least, up there it tailed away into a fairly narrow but shallowing gut, flanked by lofty and prominent green shoulders. At least he could see what went on up on these, where swarms of Highland clansmen climbed quite openly, their drawn broadswords glinting in the westering sunlight.
But that was the least of the glinting. Along the escarpment edge itself, just about a mile away, the afternoon was ablaze with flashing steel, reflecting from armour, helmets, lances, swords, maces, battle-axes. The Earl of Richmonds splendid southron host was drawn up there, in full view on the skyline, stretching as far as eye could see, from here, under a forest of banners, pennons and spears. It made a magnificent and daunting sight. Yet it was with satisfaction that Bruce eyed this part of the picture-for this was what he had visualised and planned for. What did make him anxious was not all that glinting steel and martial chivalry, but how many archers Richmond might have, and where, and what he might do with them. Archers were the great imponderable. Used to pick off those Highlandmen on the open shoulders, they could be enormously damaging to the entire strategy. And if the English chose to use such on Douglass packed host in the corrie below, once they came within effective range, there could be a terrible slaughter. Bruce was gambling that this they would not do not out of chivalry but out of a different kind of knightly pride. It was apt to be only up-jumped men like Harcla who would allow baseborn archers to steal the day when high-born knights stood by. In near-defeat or serious crisis it would be different. But this should look like neither.
Bruce had his thousands of light cavalry hidden in the scattered woodland which clothed all these hill foot skirts. Two miles to the south, still in the foothills, a small detachment under Walter Stewart were as well hidden on a wooded knoll at the western end of the road through the pass-like gap in the hill, which led over the Scawton Moor to Helmsley. From here they could see if and when the forces holding the gap were withdrawn.
The King rather envied Douglas and Moray. He too would have preferred to be riding up that corrie, even though in full view of the enemy and with the risk of unanswerable archery attack from above. It would at least be action, better than waiting here, a prey to the misgivings of the commander who plans a battle and then must leave its carrying out to others-and who may see all his visions and forecasts made nonsense of by events. Not that he feared greatly for his friends; he had sent them into a dangerous situation, admittedly-but they were as well able to look after themselves therein as any men living. And, because he knew John, Earl of Richmond, he did not believe that the worst would happen.
John of Brittany had been Edward the Firsts nephew, and onetime Lieutenant of Scotland, in 1305, the year of Wallaces death.
Even then he was a sombre, gloomy man, prematurely grey. Seventeen years later he was not likely to have become any more fiery or apt to take risks. No fool, but over-cautious, conservative, he was the sort of man who could be relied on to do the obvious, conventional thing; and if he erred in doing so, it would be on the side of delay, of prudence, of circumspection. Nor would he allow in others the rashness he himself abhorred-for he was inordinately conscious of his rank.
But he was no craven, and of a bull like stubbornness of purpose.Taking all this into account, Bruce had planned the day. He was jerked out of his introspection by the thin high ululation of trumpets blowing up there on the summit ridge, many trumpets, the first peremptory bugling taken up by others right and left along the escarpment. And before these had died away, the entire centre of the steel-clad line seemed to buckle and bend. Instead of a line, a front, it became slowly a moving wide V, as deliberately, without any excited charging, the English mounted chivalry surged forward and over the lip of the escarpment of Roulston Scar, and on down the steep slope, in perfect order. As far as could be discerned from below, not a single arrow had preceded them.
There rides a confident commander! Hugh Ross commented, at the Kin
gs side.
As well he might be. He has all the advantage.
Height. Ground. And four times the number of men. Can Douglas hold him, think you, Sire?
Would I have sent him up there if I did not believe so, man?
Bruce snapped.
Use your wits!
Abashed, Ross bit his lip, silent.
The King relented, more on edge than he hoped to appear.
See you, Hugh-that narrow place hems in Douglas, yes. But it also prevents Richmond from deploying, from bringing his superior force to bear. There is just no room on the floor of the corrie for large numbers. The very ground will force Douglas into a long schiltrom formation, a hedgehog of spears. The English will only be able to attack in any strength at the head of the formation. If they swing round the sides, they will be on steep and difficult ground. And Douglas will retire, slowly. My orders were that he retires down the corrie, drawing Richmond after him. The further the better.
It will be strange fighting for the Douglas!
Jamies turn will come. Bruce turned.
Young Campbell there. Colin-your turn now. Off with you! And Ranald MacRuarie.
God speed-and watch for their bowmen.
Nothing loth, the two young Highland chiefs, impatient this last half-hour, raced off, dismounted and in opposite directions. Right and left, but half a mile apart, their two large groups of clansmen waited, as eager as themselves.
For a little there was nothing to be seen from the Kings position, not only in new developments but in the main cockpit of the corrie.
For now the leading ranks of the English chivalry were low enough therein to be hidden, as were Douglass men. Only to be seen were the new and seemingly endless rank of advancing steel-clad horsemen, coming over the skyline and down the slope-a daunting enough sight.
Detachments of enemy infantry were now striking out along the shoulders of both flanking hillsides, to engage the Highlanders already up there. These, their part largely played, were falling back somewhat.
Dependent on their ears now, the King and those around him fretted. It was galling indeed not to be able to see the drama up in the corrie. But at least something of the noise of it came down to them, the shouts and screams, the clash of steel, the whinnying of horses, the trumpeting.
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