Part X – War games
21st January 1084 – Winchester
Richard Neville was sweating in his leather gambeson despite the bitter cold. The sparring rounds with other squires were an important part of his education under Prince William. He was not the only young noble who was one of the Prince's wards. The young Earl could easily beat Turquetil de Mandeville, brother to the Duke of Essex, and Abelard de Harrenc, eldest son and heir of the Earl of Staffordshire.
The only one who regularly maintained the upper hand against him was Siward of Northumbria, heir to the Duchy of Mid Anglia. His father had already been Earl before King William conquered Anglietèrre and the monarch had made him Duke. Richard liked him, the two of them shared many interests and even though Siward sometimes seemed to daydream when they were having lectures he was a nice fellow.
As they were going at each other once more on the courtyard a lone rider careered through the gates. At the entrance to the castle he reared his mare and jumped from his horse. Then the rider hastened to the castle hall and went inside. The steed was covered in dirt and had foam around the mouth, it was clear the man was a messenger and he must have carried some very important news to ride down a beautiful horse like that.
“Richard, Siward, what do you think you're doing?” The voice of Prince William sounded across the castle yard and woke Richard from his thoughts.
“You are here to practise, not to laze around. Continue!”
The two turned their attention towards one another and kept on sparring, maybe he might beat Siward for once.
14th April 1084 – Coulogne near Calais, France
For two months they were now in France. Price William was commanding a part of the huge army his father had assembled in the defence of his homeland. The news the messenger had brought were indeed of serious nature. The French had invaded the Normandy soon after New Years Eve, pillaged and looted the smaller villages and laid siege to some bigger castles and cities. The King had immediately called his banners when he got note of this act of war and could muster more than 20000 men. No one in the army could recall having seen such a huge host of men ever before, at least no one that Richard knew of. He wouldn't want to stand over on the other side of the plain opposing such a massive force. Though the French army was quite sizable, the scouts said roughly 15000 men, they were still clearly outnumbered.
France declares war on Anglietèrre
Richard, just turned 12 a fortnight ago, was clad in some light armour, just as Siward next to him. They would accompany Prince William into battle and fight by his side. The Prince's armour was a lot heavier and he stood out with his colourful ornaments on shield and helmet. It was their duty to protect him and if need be free him from captivity or arrange for a burial.
The Prince took to battle like a duck to water, it was his natural element. One could see the bright grin on his face as he was preparing the lines for the upcoming battle.
“Men of Anglietèrre, Normans, Saxons. Today we fight for our home. The French are pillaging our land, they rape our women, murder our children and steal our cattle. But we will put this to an end. Today they die, and we will bath in the glory of victory. Remember this day, for you will tell the tales of the bloody battle at Calais to your grandchildren once you are old. For God! For the King! For Anglietèrre!”
The soldiers repeated the last sentences and a roar toned over the battlefield. Richard screamed as loud as he could, but his voice drowned in the many shouts all around him. Then the army got under way. But to great surprise the French did not remain in their defending position. They instead began to move; both armies would clash in the middle of the open plain.
The Prince had returned to the rear of the army from where he would lead his troops. Richard and Siward would most likely not partake in any action as long as the Prince stayed here. From the small hill he gave his orders from the group had a perfect view over the battlefield. Richard was fascinated by his guardian. The Prince gave commands loud and clearly even though one could see his blood was boiling.
Then the front rows of the infantry reached the enemy army and a massive fight was emerging. After a while the Norman troops slowly gained the upper hand, whether that was through numerical advantage or fiercer fighting, Richard could not tell. In the far distance, he could see clouds of dust.
“Your Grace, do you see that? I believe their cavalry is coming” Richard pointed with his finger in the direction of the dust.
“I have been watching them since they got under way a while ago” the Prince replied mockingly but with a warm smile.
“Ready my horse, we will counter engage them soon. Make sure everything is in order.”
The knights had been held as a reserve; since the French could muster more cavalry they could not meet them in battle on horseback, but would wait till the enemy had engaged in combat with the infantry. Once the Prince had made his way across and bestrode his horse they moved out. Unlike the Prince Richard and Siward did not own a war horse. They rode on lightly armoured hacks into battle.
All morning Richard had not been nervous but now that they finally set out to actually fight he could feel his hands shaking. The Prince must have noticed his pale face.
“Don't you worry Richard, we will show these French bastards who owns the Normandy. God is with us!” he said to him and with a laugh added
“Just remember to hit them with the pointy end.”
The knights around him burst out in laughter. Richard could feel his face blush. Angrily he replied:
“Oh I will show you what I've learned during sparring rounds.”
Then the Prince gave the command to advance. In front of them the enemy cavalry had passed the Norman troops and hit them in the exposed flanks. The Norman cavalry began charging once they were some 300 foot away and hit the hostile knights in the rear. For some reason the enemy commander had not seen them coming, or willingly ignored them until it was too late.
After the initial charge a melee ensued. Richard stayed with the Prince who threw himself in the thick of battle hacking and slashing like a madman through the enemy cavalry. He tried his best to keep up but William went deeper and deeper into enemy lines. Suddenly a dismounted Frenchman charged towards Richard, a spear in both hands, driving his weapon in the boys horse. With a loud neigh the horse collapsed, in its death throes throwing off its rider. Richard found himself in the mud and quickly got up.
The Frenchman had now drawn his sword and came closer. He started the fight with a powerful blow, that Richard parried with his shield. Hopefully the sparring would pay off now. Young Warwick retaliated with a quick stab towards the enemy's left knee however the man had seen it coming and simply stepped back out of reach. He was a lot taller than Richard and used that to his advantage. After he dodged Richards attack he quickly rushed forward again and performed a number of slashes that Richard had trouble with blocking. His left arm hurt terribly under the battering, the shield would not hold much longer. Desperate for a way to stop this onslaught of attacks Richard threw what was left of his shield at the man who ducked under it.
As he was ducking a small figure leapt at the French and drove his sword into his right leg. Siward could not have come at any better time. In agony the enemy screamed out and was distracted for a moment. Richard, lunging himself forward, wasted none of the scarce time and attacked the warrior. He aimed his sword below the armpit where the armour was the thinnest.
With a groan the man turned around again and stared right into Richard's eyes. Then he slumped down and Richard pulled out his weapon. Out of a strange instinct he stabbed the man again, and again until his arm grew tired. The body was gruesomely disfigured, terrible to behold. It was as if he awoke from a dream as Siward grabbed him at the shoulders and shook him thoroughly.
“Richard, he is dead. What are you doing?” Richard could see the shock in his eyes.
“I – I don't know what got into me, I just let my arms do all the work.” Richard replied. He had just killed for the first time, but he wasn't feeling remorse in the slightest if anything that what he felt was excitement. Was that something bad?
