The Bastard's Son

by H A CULLEY

  The cavalry charge had broken the Scottish line all across the valley. The survivors began to flee leaving behind nearly two hundred of their countrymen dead and badly wounded. Hugo didn’t have to worry about ordering his men to chase them down; they were doing that without any encouragement. The routed men soon caught up with the slow moving column of carts and livestock and there was pandemonium as the rest of the group abandoned what they had stolen and joined the general flight northwards.

  Hugo left the recaptured goods and animals for the main body to deal with and continued chasing the Scots until dark.

  -X-

  Ten miles further north Tristan also broke off operations as night fell and withdrew into Otterburn. He was well aware that the raiders would use the night to make good their escape across the border but there was little he could do about it. Trying to fight a mobile battle at night was just too dangerous.

  Just before dawn the next day he set out with Fulk and their men to ambush the next crowd of Scots trying to make it home. They found evidence that men and livestock had passed during the night but there was no-one in Redesdale now. This puzzled both men and so they sent three scouts to the south to see if there were any more on their way.

  The scouts brought back interesting news. Five miles to the south the Scottish army, or what was left of it, had halted. The livestock, carts full of plunder and their captives were being guarded by two hundred men and boys whilst the rest had taken up battle positions facing their pursuers. The scouts had been too far away to see the English army clearly but one of them thought that he had seen the white chevron on black of de Cuille.

  After a hasty conversation, Fulk and Tristan agreed on a plan of action.

  Hugo estimated that the English army of some two thousand two hundred, allowing for the casualties sustained so far, were facing some five thousand Scots. Suddenly he felt apprehensive. Yves de Vesci was a powerful baron but he was inexperienced on the battlefield and headstrong; not a promising combination. He had made it abundantly clear that he held the Scots in low esteem and thought that all they had to do was to charge them and they would be routed. From his limited knowledge of them, Hugo doubted that it would be that simple; and so it proved.

  De Vesci ignored the archers and crossbowmen he had with him, insisting that he wouldn’t need them. His plan was to charge the Scots with his cavalry and disrupt them. His men-at-arms and the armed peasants would follow on and destroy the disorganised Scots.

  The opposing army was drawn up with their infantry in a continuous line, armed with spears and axes in the main, and their cavalry in reserve. The latter were mainly lightly armed men on garrons but there were a hundred knights and armoured serjeants as well.

  Instead of breaking apart, as Yves had expected, the line held firm and several destriers and coursers were killed in the first charge. Once unhorsed, men and boys darted out from the Scottish ranks to cut the knights’ throats. Hugo’s destrier was wounded but he managed to make it back to the where the foot waited. Simon came forward with his spare horse, a courser, and led the destrier away so that he could sew up the gash in its flank; not a task he was looking forward to. He would need the help of others to hold the horse immobile whilst he did it.

  De Vesci led a second charge against the taunting Scots and Hugo’s lance speared not one man but two this time as the second Scotsman was craning forward against the first, eager to get at the charging cavalry. He dropped his lance and pulled out his sword. His mace didn’t have the reach he needed. His courser reared up, striking down one man with his hooves and the others nearby moved out of range. This gave him the opportunity to slash down with his sword, killing one man, and then use the point to pierce the throat of another.

  He was so absorbed in the fight that at first he didn’t hear the order to withdraw. It was only when Roger de Muschamp rode up and yelled at him to get back that he realised that he was practically on his own. His courser kicked out once more to give him space to turn it and he followed Roger back to his own lines. It wasn’t until someone pointed it out to him that he realised that he was wounded in the right leg.

  Yves de Vesci had paid for his folly. He had been killed and his head had been hacked off and put on a spear as some sort of grisly trophy. The morale of the Scots was sky high whilst the English army were on the point of retreating. Ignoring his wound, Hugo railed at those who wanted to give up.

  ‘I’m sorry Ivo,’ he said looking at the twenty one year old knight who was now Lord of Alnwick. Your father was wrong to think that he could defeat the Scots using cavalry on their own; it was folly.’

  Ivo glared at him but said nothing. Many of the others muttered agreement.

  ‘Now I suggest that we send our archers forward, protected by our foot, and destroy the euphoria the Scots are currently enjoying. Only when they have been weakened sufficiently and their resolve is crumbling do we try another charge. Do you agree?’

  Hugo was one of the eldest there and most knew that he had fought at Senlac Hill near Hastings when King Harold was slain, something none of the others had done. Although he wasn’t the most important man left alive, the others listened to him and were happy to follow his lead.

  The archers advanced to within a hundred yards of the Scottish line and volley after volley of arrows and quarrels tore into their ranks. Most Scots only had a small round shield called a targe so, being unarmoured for the most part, they were very vulnerable. After fifteen minutes of suffering casualties without being able to retaliate, their rage overcame their discipline and some of them broke away to run at their tormentors. Others followed and then half the line had broken in their eagerness to get to grips with the archers.

  It was the moment that Hugo had been waiting for. He felt faint from loss of blood as Simon had only been able to bind the wound, not staunch it, but his elation that the plan was working buoyed him up. The archers retreated behind the footmen and they met the Scots disorganised charge, cutting them down easily as they reached the solid line of shields and spears piecemeal. However, more and more were arriving and the English infantry would soon be heavily outnumbered.

  A hunting horn blared out and two hundred knights and serjeants rode around their infantry and struck the Scots on both flanks. Meanwhile the remaining two hundred cantered towards the stationery band of mounted Scots.

  Malcolm Canmore knew when the day was lost and, although he had more mounted men than the English, who had now broken into a gallop and were approaching him swiftly with levelled lances, he knew that they would slaughter him and his men. He turned and ran.

  Hugo had managed to keep going until that moment but the knowledge that they had won meant he didn’t have to persevere anymore and he collapsed in the saddle from loss of blood.

  -X-

  Tristan and Fulk had been puzzled by the cessation of raiders returning home but then, as noon was approaching, a large band of horsemen rode into Redesdale travelling fast. They wisely decided to let them pass; there were too many for them to tackle and they had no plunder with them. An hour after that groups of Scots on foot stated to flee up the valley. Once again they had no livestock or laden carts with them and they were allowed to reach Carter Bar unmolested.

  It was getting towards dusk when the next group of men appeared. However, these weren’t Scots. Tristan’s heart soared with relief when he saw the de Cuille banner flying alongside that of de Muschamp. But he came down to earth with a bump when he couldn’t see his father riding at the head of the column beside Roger de Muschamp. Instead it was Bertram.

  Chapter Nine – The Battle for Cumbria

  1092

  William Rufus looked around the barons and leaders of the army he had assembled at York to take revenge on the Scots for the invasion the previous year. Hugo wasn’t there but Tristan was. The wound he had suffered had left him weak and then it started to fester. Edith and Simon had looked after him but he developed a fever and had nearly died. Gradually he had overcome the infection but it had
been a slow process. It had drained him of energy and his muscle had wasted away through lack of use. It had taken him months to get the use of his leg back again and he was still far from fit when the king’s summons came.

  Tristan had stayed at Otterburn with his father, paying visits to Harbottle and the other manors as necessary. He had also continued his courtship of Hièrru and they had become betrothed during the Christmas festivities. The wedding was planned for May but the king’s summons had put paid to that.

  ‘King Malcolm was taught a lesson last year and I congratulate all of you who were involved. However, it hasn’t stopped the wretched Scots from raiding across the border,’ William Rufus began. ‘Because he holds Cumbria it is like a dagger into the heart of northern England. From there he can invade my lord of Chester’s lands from the north.’ Here he nodded to Hugh d’Avranches. ‘And into Northumberland from the west.’

  He glanced at Odinel d’Umfraville as he said this as his lands lay due east of Carlisle. The main town in Cumbria.

  ‘My aim is to move the border back to a line from the Solway Firth to Carter Bar at the head of Redesdale in the Cheviots.’

  Now his gaze shifted to Tristan.

  ‘I’m sorry that Sir Hugo is not here to join with us in our enterprise.’ This was said as if Hugo was somehow to blame. ‘But I welcome Sir Tristan de Cuille in his place. I have been told of his valiant attempts to stop the Scots from returning up Redesdale with their booty.’

  Again this was said as if somehow what he and Fulk had achieved fell somehow short of his expectations. It left both men quietly fuming. Tristan noticed Robert de Mowbray, the Earl of Northumbria, smirking at d’Umfraville who smirked back. Men had blamed both of them for loitering at Newcastle instead of chasing the rest of the Scots when they abandoned the siege of Newcastle and fled up the coastal route to Norham and the border. However, the king had said nothing to criticize them.

  ‘I have decided to grant Ivo Taillebois a number of manors in southern Cumberland and I have also given Roger de Bellême several manors in Furness and Cartmel. They both have an excess of inhabitants of their present estates in Essex, Suffolk, Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, Lincolnshire, Hampshire and North Yorkshire who they can transport to their new estates once we have driven the Scots out.’

  Now de Bellême and Taillebois were smirking as well. Roger de Bellême, the son of the Earl of Shrewsbury, was fast becoming one of the most powerful barons in England, after his father and the Earl of Chester. He also had extensive lands in France thanks to his marriage to a wealthy heiress from Poitevin.

  ‘From there we will capture Carlisle and build a mighty castle to hold the surrounding area against the Scots.’

  ‘Who will the lands in the north of Cumbria be granted to, sire?’

  ‘Not to you, Humphrey!’

  This sally drew forth laughter from the sycophants and toadies who thronged Rufus’ court.

  ‘Carlisle will be put into the charge of Ranulph le Mechin on condition he builds me a strong castle there. As to the lands of north Cumbria, some will be granted to those who most distinguish themselves in the coming campaign; the remainder will be retained by me to recompense me for the expense of this campaign.’

  It was shrewd move. Viscount Ranulph Le Mechin, was the Earl of Carlisle’s brother-in-law so he could count on his support in the future. Together they would make it difficult for Malcolm to reconquer Cumbria if he lost it during this campaign. The current lord of Cumbria was Dolfin, the brother of the Earl of Lothian and the eldest son of the last Anglo-Saxon Earl of Northumbria. However prestigious his lineage, he was not known for his military prowess and was not greatly loved by his people, being avaricious and corrupt.

  The first part of the campaign went well with southern Cumbria falling to the English army fairly easily; but then Malcolm Canmore mobilised his own army and marched down Liddesdale and on towards the Solway Firth before heading due south to meet William at Caldbeck.

  -X-

  Anselm of Bec had waited for months for his audience with Pope Urban the Second at Clermont in Southern France. Urban had fled from Rome, ousted by the Holy Roman Emperor after an argument and now the emperor had installed an Anti-pope in the Vatican. The schism in the Church suited many of the monarchs in Europe, not least William Rufus who was currently benefitting from the income from the Archbishop of Canterbury’s estates. The last thing he wanted was for the Pope to intervene and insist that the post was filled.

  The choice of monks of Canterbury, who officially elected the archbishop, had fallen on Anselm, a former Benedictine monk and now a sixty year old ecclesiastical scholar held in great esteem in the Church. His appointment was supported by most of the bishops in England but the king had refused to recognise his election. Now Anselm had approached the Pope for his support.

  ‘I am happy to request that King William agrees to your installation in the See of Canterbury, I can’t afford to demand it. You must understand, my dear Anselm, that my position is precarious whilst Clement pretends to be the Bishop of Rome. The schism in the Church has weakened my authority and, until I have driven Clement out of the Vatican, I have to tread carefully. Indeed I seem to be more of a politician than a churchman these days.’

  ‘Your Holiness, I understand your position and I sympathise, but Rufus is faithless man who has no respect for religion. If he could he would seize all the property of the Church and use it for his own ends. I need to oppose his evil ways but I can only do that if I have the necessary authority and that means being the Primate of England. Only then can I defend our brothers in Christ there.’

  ‘You say he is an evil man and I have heard that you call him the spawn of the Devil. Is this true? How have you reached such a conclusion?’

  ‘His court is full of irreligious young men who are effeminate and are an abomination. They are an affront to all decent men, and yet he encourages them. They wear their hair long and take an inordinate pride in their appearance. He eschews the company of women and instead makes handsome young men his close companions.’

  The Pope looked shocked.

  ‘Are you saying that he indulges in unnatural practices with them?’

  Anselm shifted uncomfortably under Urban’s intense scrutiny.

  ‘I have no proof, Holiness, other than the fact that he has not yet taken a wife nor shows any interest in doing so.’

  ‘I see. Does he have a mistress perhaps?’

  Anselm shook his head. ‘Not so I’ve heard.’

  ‘Then perhaps he’s celibate,’ said Urban brightly.

  Anselm looked dubious but said nothing.

  ‘I will write to King William and urge him to agree to your enthronement. I was good to see you again, Anselm.’

  The other man looked frustrated but he realised that he had been dismissed with a platitude. The Pope might just as well have patted him on the head and said ‘there, there.’

  -X-

  Tristan sat proudly in the front rank of the conroy he’d been put in command of. Fulk sat beside him and, if he resented the fact that he was serving under his prospective son-in-law, he didn’t show it. In fact, he had learned to respect Tristan’s strategic sense and bravery the previous year when then had attacked the Scots fleeing up Redesdale. Bertram sat on his other side and Alain, one of the other knights in his father’s mesnie, sat behind him proudly holding the de Cuille banner up high.

  In addition to his father’s knights and serjeants he’d been allocated a dozen young knights from the mesnie of the Bishop of Durham. William de St. Calais had been ordered out of the safety of his city and now sat uncomfortably with the Archbishop of York and other churchmen safely in the rear with the baggage train. William Rufus might not be a devout man but he knew most of his soldiers were and it did no harm for them to think that God was on their side. Of course, he thought cynically, Malcolm Canmore’s priests were telling the Scots army the same thing.

  To the surprise of everyone, Robert Curthose and Henry Beaucle
rc, had come across from Normandy to support their brother. Of course, he’d had to bribe them; one with the promise of peace in Normandy and the other with a few manors in England. However, Rufus thought it was worth it. He was determined to settle the Scots problem and recover Cumbria and he didn’t want his brothers stirring up trouble elsewhere whilst he was doing so.

  The English army numbered some ten thousand, two and a half thousand more than the Franco-Norman army that Rufus’ father had brought with him to invade England a quarter of a century before. Of these a thousand were archers and crossbowmen and another thousand were knights and mounted serjeants. Arraigned against them were twelve thousand Scots, mostly on foot and without many archers. His mounted contingent numbered several hundred but most were borderers riding garrons. Less than a hundred were knights and nobles.

  The battle opened with the archers on both side firing volleys at each other. The English quickly drove the Scots archers back and then changed their target to the infantry. However, the Scots seemed to have learned a lesson and many had exchanged their small targes for larger wooden shields which they crouched behind.

  Seeing that this was getting him nowhere, King William gave the signal for his cavalry to charge. Tristan gripped his lance tight and tried to overcome his fear. He had fought in many a small scale skirmish before but this was his first real battle and the enemy facing him looked formidable. He was worried about the hedge of spears jutting out from the shield wall and couldn’t see how his destrier could avoid them.

  ‘Don’t worry lad,’ Fulk smiled at him. ‘Your lance has a greater reach than their spears. Once we knock the man in the first row back into the rest you’ll be able to use your sword or mace or, in my case, battle axe to kill the men behind him. Have you second weapon ready hanging from its strap from your wrist?’