The Rightful King
Cambridge, England - February 1091
Prince Uhtræd looked out over the field and watched as Yorkist forces gathered in the distance. He did not need to see him to know that his father’s old friend was out there somewhere. No one but that old veteran Beorhtmaer could willingly move an army so fast. The Yorkist horse and shield men seemed to outnumber Lord Skuli’s forces by double the figure. And while there were archers and spearmen aplenty, the Prince knew that Beorhtmaer would not waste the day on trickery. He would come straight forward as any good Saxon mind might.
It was only seven days since the Prince arrived in camp once more and was greeted kindly by the Lord Marshal. Skuli offered some misgivings about his presence but was clearly well met by Uhtræd as indeed, his wounds had yet to heal and he barked mightily about his leg every time he put pressure to it. While the Prince had made note to visit the siege as often as he might while his new child grew daily in strength, on the day of this past visit, he came bearing poor news. A note had arrived at the keep informing the Queen that Beorhtmaer’s Yorkist force was on the move and heading straight down the old road leading to London from the north.
Duke Skuli was apoplectic at the news and knowing the strength of his force was brittle, made orders that day to begin a move of their own to the south. He had said to the Prince that Uhtræd should return home at the now, but the young royal would not hear of it.
“Then you shall stay behind the line, my Prince. I would not have your blood on my hands!” the Marshal had shouted.
Looking out towards the men arrayed before him on this day, he began to wonder if he might have taken the Duke’s advice. At this late hour, however, he was not leaving Lord Skuli to such a grim fate if he had any way to help it.
To the credit of the Marshal, Skuli realized that battle was at hand and wasted little time in putting his men in order. Before even the first strike of arrow passed overhead, the Duke had his flanks arranged such that what horse he had left would be able to close as soon as both sides were met. Uhtræd marveled at the glorious sight of those wooden killers as they rained down before him and even more at the proficiency of the King’s own archers as they replied in kind.
Prince Uhtræd had correctly guessed at Beorhtmaer tactic as soon after the initial volley of archers, the old veteran sent in his strength. Horse from the right and shields from the left poured onto the field and were met with everything Skuli had. Even the Marshal himself was suited up and at the ready and spurred his own horse into the great melee in the center. Uhtræd watched on with a wince at every move the Duke made knowing how painful it must be for the man but Skuli fought with valor and no thought of his own misfortune.
It was at that moment that Prince Uhtræd caught the banner of the Duke of York himself running to the field. His great friend from childhood moved from the ranks and rode out into the middle of the crush surrounded by a great many of his own guard. Uhtræd could see that his standard was moving towards the position of Duke Skuli and could contain himself no more. He began to rush the field himself until he was stopped by Lord Mayor Eanberht.
“My Prince…you may not be a part of this battle!” the Lord Mayor cried out.
Prince Uhtræd barely heard the words. He was already suited for his safety and with his sword drawn; he made his way into the mix. He made quick work of the first two or three men he met but was challenged by the next as a young man at arms moved to him calling out for spears to follow. Uhtræd met his attacker readily, cutting at his legs as he turned to ward off two such spearmen that tried to take him out. He ducked one and spun to slice at the second. With only one man left, he turned with a ferocious glare and caused the man to back up into the waiting sword of another.
Uhtræd looked up and saw that Duke Eadgar was moving closer to Skuli’s position so he moved to find any horse that might be had. Luck favored him as he turned to spy one of Beorhtmaer’s cavalry rushing to greet him with malice. The Prince was able to duck and roll and was up with a slash to the man’s back taking him from his mount. The horse continued to run but in the din, it had little place to go. As it struggled fiercely, Uhtræd was able to take the beast and began a push towards the Duke of York.
Slicing down at every turn, he took out spears and swords alike in his push until he was in between the two Dukes. For his part, Duke Eadgar seemed to have a look of shock upon his face as he spied his old friend. Uhtræd returned the gaze with a grim stare.
The Duke of York shouted as he pulled on his mount to bypass the Prince, “You should not be here! Move aside!”
Uhtræd showed no fear and jumped from his own to confront the young Duke, “Neither should you!”
The battle seemed to move in slow motion as the two young nobles stood their ground. Many times during their childhood they had played at war games and the Prince knew exactly what the young Duke might do. He had always been easy to guess with no forethought in his actions. And so, when Duke Eadgar reined his mount to rush at Uhtræd, the Prince did as he always did…he took the blow and returned it twice as hard.
The young Duke’s horse nearly trampled Uhtræd, but he was able to slice down and take out the legs of the beast such that Eadgar fell to the ground right over its head. He lay sprawling and looked up with yet one more look of shock. His eyes seemed to plead as Uhtræd stood over him and the Prince looked down with great sorrow. He hesitated only long enough to see Eadgar look to his right and Uhtræd turned to take out one of the Duke’s retainers.
Turning back to his old friend, he saw the sword come at him and wasted no time on making his parry. Eadgar struggled to try again and it would be for naught. Prince Uhtræd ran him through. He would never forget that day but the continued commotion occurring around him caused that thought to wait for the now.
Time sped up again for him and he turned to see Skuli doing his best to care for his men but with a great limp. The Prince fought his way towards the Marshal and took his arm over the shoulder.
“We must get you from this field, my Lord!”
Skuli nearly threw a blow at the young Prince until he realized who it was and answered with a mix of horror and anger, “I would not!”
“I care not of your feelings!” Uhtræd yelled as he pulled Skuli from the battle and watched over his shoulder as Duke Eadgar’s banner men seemed to pause knowing that their liege was struck down.
In truth, a great settling was caused by the untimely death of Eadgar of Hwicce, he not but of nineteen summers in age. The Yorkist enemy began to disengage and both sides moved off the field and took stock of their ground. In the manner of the time, soon the gathering of the dead began and when before both sides were trying to kill one another, suddenly they were working together to expose the dead and the living side by side. Uhtræd sat off on a slight rise watching it all as he cradled the Marshal in his lap.
“You should not be here,” Skuli said as he winced at movement of his leg.
The Prince stared down at the Duke with a blank face, “I have heard that already this day, Lord Skuli. This truce will not last as I know my father’s friend well. Beorhtmaer will push sooner rather than later knowing we are already bested.”
The Prince was not wrong. Even as the day began to wane, shouts and jeers could be heard across the field of battle as they beat their shields to make a great noise. It was clear to all of the King’s men that this meeting was not yet done. By now, Uhtræd and Skuli were at the edge of the field and the Prince made a move.
“I will lead these men, Lord Skuli. You are in no shape.”
Duke Skuli stood with great difficulty but looked to Uhtræd with fierce eyes, “You will not do any such thing! You have already risked your blood!”
“I would be fine, my Lord,” Uhtræd returned the gaze.
Skuli wiped a hand at the young Prince’s head, “There be a cut right there. I will not lose both this battle and my Prince on the same day. You will take what force you can and move from this place at the now!”
Out of respect, Uhtræd gave nod but he seethed. He felt no anger towards Skuli. He was angry at the day. As well he might have been as soon after, Beorhtmaer sent everything he had towards the King’s side and most able bodied men still fighting for King Eadgar were cut down. The response from the Yorkist force was a massacre.
Prince Uhtræd did as commanded, however; and a few days later the Marshal limped into the camp of what meager forces were salvaged from the battle at Cambridge. Those few men were gathered around as he made his way into the middle and found Uhtræd. The two embraced and cheers were heard from them all at the return of their fearless leader.
Duke Skuli turned to his men and held up the Prince’s hand, “You all know of this man’s bravery! I need not recount them for you. He has saved you from a death that far too many have suffered! I would hear you all cheer for the Prince of England!”
Great cries of ‘For the Prince’ and ‘God save the King’ rang out among the soldiers.
Skuli kept them all in his gaze as he looked out over the assembly, “We have seen great loss and great victory. You men know full well the trials that we have weathered…our great suffering. One man is here to say that you need not find sorrow at our losses. He is here to tell you all that you fight for a wondrous King and a grand Kingdom if you would have it!”
More cheers rang out as Uhtræd looked to the Duke with apprehension.
“Men…” Skuli continued, “…I would ask you why you fight this war? I would tell you that it is for country! It is for the King! It is for God himself!”
As the men began to strike their shields in excitement, Skuli grabbed Uhtræd’s hand once more and held it high, “We shall never see a defeat as terrible as that which has befallen us just now. I will tell you why! Look to your Prince!”
Uhtræd was uncomfortable as he whispered to the Duke, “I have done nothing, my Lord.”
Duke Skuli yelled over the great din of noise ignoring Uhtræd’s modesty, “He has struck down our great enemy! He has traveled you all to safety! And some day, God willing, he will be your King!”
The ragged troops were all in a fit of excitement and all began to shout, “For the Prince! For the Prince!! For the Prince!!!”
The Marshal continued to hold Uhtræd’s hand high for a time as the soldiers cheered before finally leading him off to speak privately. “That…my Prince…is how you keep spirits up after a great loss.”
Prince Uhtræd had few words to say, “I have done little to none…”
“No, my Prince,” Skuli answered with a serious face, “You have done more than you know. You give them something to fight for.”
“I would think your own bravery enough for them to follow you onto any field, my Lord Marshal,” the Prince suggested.
Skuli offered a half smile even though the thought caused him some sadness when he answered, “Not after this battle, my Prince. Twice now as their leader I have failed in their eyes whereas you are young and fresh and killed the leader of our northern enemy. From this day forward, they follow your father…and you.”
Uhtræd looked to the sky for a time as he attempted to keep his eyes from welling with tears over the loss of his boyhood friend but he contained it as best you could and turned back to Duke Skuli, “Is it always this difficult?”
Skuli placed a hand on the Prince’s shoulder, “Aye. Every time. Especially when your foe is well known to you. Most especially when they are well loved.”
“I simply wanted to protect your flank, my Lord…and he came at me with his sword,” Uhtræd tried to explain but Skuli shook his head.
“You need offer no words, my Prince. The death of Morcar’s son is indeed a sad day for the realm, but he was no longer the boy who shared your childhood. He was a man grown, and a slow witted one at that. He made his choice and he chose poorly. That is none of your fault.”
“Father will be sore with me,” Uhtræd shared as he looked to the distance.
“Aye…” Skuli nodded, “…but maybe not as sore as you might think. You fought with great bravery and even in my failure; your actions may have helped to bring this war to a close that much sooner. Tis true that Beorhtmaer is a studied veteran who will continue to fight as long as his liege’s men tell him to, but that Duchy is now in the hands of a child barely one summer in age. It is a blow to all of our enemies and one the King should appreciate greatly.”
“He will surely return home at the now,” the Prince added, “And he will be very disappointed that he must end his campaign in Normandy.”
Skuli offered a kind smile, “That fault lies with me, my Prince. That was none of your doing. You may hear strong words from your father when he returns, but I am certain that the King will save the harshest ones for mine own ears.”
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